Clyde Sutter vs. Amelia Nevado

[Kemal Yilmaz]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Tuesday, February 3, 2026**

[The Assassin]

1 of 2
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January 24th, 2026
Birmingham, England
Off Camera
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The orphanage sat at the edge of a forgotten stretch of Birmingham, tucked away from the newer developments and polished streets as though the city itself had chosen to look past it. Time had not been kind to the building. Its brick exterior was darkened and uneven, stained by decades of soot, rain, and neglect. Ivy crept along the lower walls and climbed toward the windows, some of which were boarded over, others left exposed with cracked glass that caught the light at odd angles. The structure loomed quietly, not collapsing, not alive, simply enduring, stubborn in its refusal to disappear. The grounds around it were enclosed by a rusted iron fence that leaned in places, sections bent outward as if someone had once tried to escape rather than enter. The gate hung open, its hinges frozen mid complaint, leaving the path to the front door unobstructed. Weeds pushed through broken pavement, reclaiming the walkway in uneven patches. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and old stone, layered with something harder to define, the lingering suggestion of abandonment that seemed to cling to the place no matter how long it stood empty.

Clyde Sutter stood near the front of the building, his presence calm and grounded against the decaying backdrop. He was dressed in dark, understated clothing, practical and restrained, as though anything too polished would feel out of place here. A fitted coat hung open over a simple shirt, the fabric heavy enough to offer warmth against the cool air but worn without ceremony. His trousers were dark and clean, sturdy rather than fashionable, and his boots were scuffed just enough to suggest use rather than neglect. There was no effort to impress in his appearance, only function and intent. His long black hair was pulled back loosely, strands catching the breeze and brushing against his neck. His expression was unreadable, composed to the point of stillness, but there was weight behind his eyes that did not come from the present moment alone. This was not just a building to him. It was history made physical. Every cracked brick and broken window carried memories that did not need to be named to be felt. He stood straight, shoulders squared, not in defiance of the place, but in acknowledgment of it.

Lilith Sutter stood beside him, slightly removed but unmistakably connected. She wore a long dark coat tailored sharply to her frame, its clean lines cutting against the disorder of the environment. Beneath it, her clothing was equally refined, dark fabrics layered with intention, each piece fitted and deliberate. Her boots were sleek and well kept, heels clicking softly against the uneven ground when she shifted her weight. She looked composed, powerful, and entirely out of place in the way only someone utterly self possessed could be. Her black hair fell smoothly around her shoulders, untouched by the wind that tugged at the ivy and scattered leaves across the yard. Her posture was confident, chin lifted slightly, eyes scanning the building with a mixture of curiosity and calculation. This was not her home, not in the way it was Clyde’s, but she carried herself as though she belonged wherever she chose to stand. The contrast between her polished appearance and the decaying surroundings only sharpened her presence.

Behind them, the orphanage rose in silent observation. The front door hung crooked on its frame, wood swollen and cracked, paint peeling away in long strips. Inside, darkness waited, broken only by thin slivers of daylight slipping through damaged windows. The faint sound of something shifting inside drifted out, possibly the wind, possibly something else, impossible to tell. The building felt hollow, emptied of voices yet still heavy with the impression that it had once been full. Around them, the neighborhood was quiet. Distant traffic hummed somewhere beyond the abandoned streets, a reminder that life continued elsewhere, indifferent to this forgotten corner. A crow perched on the fence nearby, watching without fear, then took flight with a sharp beat of wings that echoed briefly against the brick walls. Clyde did not move toward the door. He simply stood, rooted in place, as though stepping inside required more than physical readiness. The orphanage had shaped him in ways no one could see, carving lessons into silence and survival. Lilith remained close, her presence steady and deliberate, not offering comfort but offering solidity.

“What are we doing here?” Clyde asks in a cool, demanding tone. Lilith shrugs his tone off with a light chuckle.

“Right to the point, eh dear brother?”

“I do not like having my time wasted.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then we are in agreement.” He answers back sharply. “Now tell me, why are we here of all places? This place, a now abandoned institution, where I grew up? Where I spent my formative years?”

“I would argue that you spent your formative years on the streets as a drug enforcer but that’s beside the point, dear brother.” Lilith states. “Nevertheless, this is the place you were dropped off at as an infant. You never knew our father, you never knew Ethan Sutter. You spent your time here at this place.”

“And?”

“And I want you to tell me everything you remember about your time here.”

The Assassin directs his attention away from his sister and up towards the massive building, the now abandoned orphanage that he once called home. All of the once forgotten memories quickly return like a tidal wave.

“My time here was not a pleasant experience.” He says solemnly. “How do you think a child feels? Being here means you have been abandoned. It means no one wants you. Truthfully, the very people who worked here, who were paid to take care of us, they did not truly want us there, either. We were but a burdon on them. We were trouble. It was here that I learned that society does not care, that your fellow man and woman does not care.” The Assassin chuckles softly. “It was also my first introduction to the harsh realities of Fate. Fate is no respecter of persons…not even of little children. All are at the mercy of Fate, including orphans.”

“Always the dramatic one, aren’t you brother?” Lilith smirks. Clyde shoots her an angry, nasty glare.

“You asked the question. I answered. What more do you want?”

“I do not want your usual philosophical ramblings.” She snaps back. “I want straight answers. I want you to tell me specifics.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for instance, were you treated any differently than the rest of the children at this place?”

He pauses again to consider her words. He looks back up at the massive, abandoned institution and lets out a sigh.

“I was given psychiatric treatment. Few other children ever had as much attention from the psychiatrist as I received and, to be completely transparent, I had no idea what was wrong with me…at the time…”

“WAS anything wrong with you?” She asks.

“Of course there was.” Clyde answers. “To this day I see a therapist for my anger and rage issues.”

“True but at the time, when you were still a little child, did you have problems that required anger management? Did you truly have a problem serious enough that required a psychiatrist? Dear brother, did you not find it the least bit strange that you received this special treatment while others did not?”

“What are you implying, sister?”

“Do the math.” She says flatly. “There was nothing wrong with you. You always were a normal child.” She motions to the building before them. “The psychiatrist and the other staff working at this place, all of them along with the orphanage itself changed you.”

“You are speaking like a delusional fool. You speak of conspiracy theories.” He scoffs. “You mock my philosophy of Fate but even I do not buy into your implications and suggestions of some conspiracy involving this orphanage. This was not my most pleasant of periods but these people were merely guilty of being neglectful and uncaring. Nothing more.”

“You sound confident.” She reaches into her coat and produces a large envelope. She passes it to Clyde. “Perhaps you might change your tune after seeing this.”

“What is this?”

“Documentation, donor lists; proof that this orphanage was funded by wealthy private donors. Also included in these documents are medical records proving that Clyde, along with other children, were being closely observed at the behest of these wealthy donors.”

“This means nothing!” Clyde exclaims. “Just more conspiratorial nonsense! Is this all you have to show me?!”

“Oh no, dear brother.” She shakes her head. “I still have much more to show you.”

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January 24th, 2026
Birmingham, England
Off Camera
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Later that same day, the city shifted around them as they moved away from the abandoned orphanage and into a different pocket of Birmingham, one that wore its age and neglect openly. The streets here were narrower, the buildings pressed closer together, brick darkened by years of exhaust and weather. Streetlights flickered rather than glowed, casting uneven pools of yellow light that left long stretches of pavement in shadow. The air felt heavier, tinged with stale smoke, spilled alcohol, and damp stone. The pub came into view at the end of the block, squat and worn, its sign hanging slightly crooked above the door. Whatever name it once proudly displayed had faded, the lettering chipped and dulled until it blended into the wood behind it. The windows were clouded with grime, light bleeding through them in a muted haze that hinted at noise and movement inside without revealing any detail. The door bore scratches and dents from years of careless use, opening and closing for people who passed through without ever truly staying. Clyde Sutter slowed as they approached, his presence steady and deliberate. In this environment, his calm felt almost severe, a quiet contrast to the disorder around him. Lilith Sutter walked beside him, her appearance as polished and precise as before.

Just outside the pub, curled against the wall near the doorway, lay an elderly homeless man. He was wrapped in layers of mismatched clothing, coats and blankets piled over one another in an attempt to hold warmth. His shoes were worn thin, soles separating at the edges, laces tied in uneven knots. A grey beard covered most of his face, his features slack in sleep, mouth slightly open as he breathed shallowly. His possessions were gathered close to him in a small cluster, a battered bag, a rolled blanket, a plastic bottle resting near his hand. He lay directly beneath the pub’s window, where the muffled sounds of laughter and raised voices drifted out through the glass. The contrast was stark. Inside, life carried on in familiar rhythms of drink and conversation. Outside, the man slept undisturbed, pressed against cold brick, his presence seemingly unnoticed by those passing through the doorway above him. The street accepted him as part of its landscape, just another fixture beneath peeling paint and flickering light. The pavement around him was cracked and uneven, darkened by old spills and rain that never quite washed away the stains. Cigarette butts clustered near the door, ground into the concrete by countless feet. Somewhere down the street, a bottle shattered, the sharp sound echoing briefly before being swallowed by distance. The pub’s light spilled outward just enough to illuminate the man’s still form, casting shadows that made him appear smaller, more fragile against the wall.

Clyde and Lilith stood framed by the scene, their silhouettes cutting clean lines against the disorder of the street. The neighborhood felt rough and unpolished, a place shaped by survival rather than comfort. The pub loomed behind the sleeping man like a silent witness, offering warmth and shelter to some while ignoring others entirely.

“This isn’t exactly your kind of neighborhood, nor is it the type of establishment someone of your stature would frequent.” Clyde states pointedly, glaring at his sister. Lilith nods her head in agreement.

“Quite an astute observation and yet here we are.”

“So what are we doing here?” He asks cooly. “More riddles from you, I assume?”

“Perhaps.” She smirks knowingly. “Just have faith, brother, we are here for a good reason, and yes, it does have to do with our father, with Ethan Sutter.”

“I am growing impatient with your cryptic talk.” Clyde states bluntly with a note of frustration in his voice. “Why can you not just tell me outright what you know about our father? Why must we bounce around the truth?”

“Because this truth is a difficult one to fathom, a challenging truth to come to grips with.” She points a finger at Clyde. “You must learn this truth the hard way, the same way I learned it, otherwise you will not understand. Worse yet, it might destroy you.”

“You think I am weak?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But I AM trying to protect you.”

“I do not need protection.”

“We shall see.” She states cooly.” Now then, I must introduce you to someone.”

The Assassin nods his head and makes his way over towards the entrance to the pub. Lilith reaches out with her arm to stop him dead in his tracks. He turns and looks at her quizzically.

“Are we not going inside?”

“No, we are not.” She shakes her head. “The man you need to meet is right here.”

She motions to the homeless man, the man whom Clyde had barely taken any notice of until just now. Lilith approaches first, followed by Clyde. He watches as his sister roughly kicks him to wake him up from what was a sound sleep.

“Get up.” She says sharply. The homeless man is startled awake and sits up quickly.

“Huh, wha…?” The homeless man looks at Lilith and then at the imposing, intimidating figure of Clyde Sutter “...do I know you?”

“No, you do not.” She shakes her head. “But perhaps you have heard of our name…Sutter.”

The Assassin watches as the homeless man thinks long and hard about what he just heard. Sutter notices a look of recognition wash over his face, as if the name does seem to ring a bell. The homeless man nods his head slowly.

“Yes…I…I think I remember someone like that…but this bloke was, well…” he shakes his head “...he was something very different.”

“What was his name?” Lilith asks.

“Ethan. Ethan Sutter.”

There it is. The name that Clyde knows all too well. Ethan Sutter was his and Lilith’s father. Apparently this homeless man, this man completely forgotten by society, knew him. This man knew their father. Before Clyde can chime in, Lilith speaks up and provides a piece of information that sparks fear into the man.

“That’s interesting because we are his children.”

“You are?!”

He is suddenly very frightened. The homeless man tries to get back to his feet but he cannot scrambles as quickly as he once could in his younger years. Clyde can see that he is panicking and obviously wants to flee. The Assassin does not understand why. Why does this connection to Ethan Sutter cause such fear? It just creates more questions than answers. Still, The Assassin must get him to calm down. He places a firm hand on his shoulder, not just to calm him but to keep him from running.

“Silence yourself.” Clyde says strongly. “Calm down!”

It does no good. The homeless man still struggles. Lilith chuckles softly.

“You are too intimidating, brother. Let me try.”

“By all means.” Clyde states. “You did create this mess.”

Lilith steps in and gently rubs his cheeks.

“There, there, calm down, my dear.” She says soothingly. “We are not here to hurt you. We want to talk, that is all, and perhaps we can help you in the process.” She produces some cash. The homeless man looks at the money, then back up at her. Despite still being a little anxious, he accepts the cash. Lilith steps away, satisfied that he is calm enough not to run off. She looks over at Clyde. “He’s all yours.”

The Assassin rolls his eyes. He cautiously steps to the homeless man.

“Tell me what you know about my father.”

“Ethan?” The homeless man sighs. “Well he was violent…quite often, in fact. Yet he was still charismatic and extremely persuasive. That bloke could get you to buy into anything. He could convince you to believe anything he said was gospel.”

“And what did he speak to YOU about?” Lilith asks.

“Uh, well, he spoke in riddles a lot.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Spoke about destiny and inevitability.”

Lilith nods her head. She turns to Clyde and winks. “Sound familiar?”

“Indeed it does.” Clyde then turns to face the homeless. “We are done here.”

And with that, Clyde Sutter turns and walks off, intending to leave the homeless man alone. He and his sister Lilith already caused the man enough emotional distress by merely mentioning the fact that they were Ethan Sutter’s children. The fear that this stranger had by hearing Ethan’s name was enough to stir up confusion within Clyde himself. What is it about Ethan that sparked so much fear in this individual? There is also the other disturbing reality; the fact that the way this homeless man described Ethan, being violent and spoke of destiny and inevitability, so much comparisons that match up Clyde to a T.

“Clyde, wait…” Clyde can hear his sister calling out to him but he keeps walking. Eventually she does manage to catch up to him “...I apologize if that was distressing for you but believe me, it was necessary that you hear it from him and not me.”

“You knew.” Clyde states coldly. “You knew he would likely say this and you did not tell me.”

“I did warn you it would be difficult.” She says. “But it would be far more difficult if I just told you everything I knew outright. Trust me, this is for the best.”

“So how much longer, sister?” He asks. “How much longer until I get the full truth?”

“There are a few more things I must show you.” Lilith says. “Just have some patience. The truth is coming.”

“Lilith, I already told you that my patience is wearing thin. I am especially angered that we are playing games with my past.”

“OUR past.”

“Fair enough.” Clyde states. “Fine, I will give you a little more time. But something like this, a day like this,” he shakes his head “it will NOT happen again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, crystal clear.”

[The Assassin]

2 of 2
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On Camera
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“The Assassin” Clyde Sutter and his lovely fiance, “The Third Generation Goddess” Melinda Braddock, stand close together as if grounded by the same quiet confidence, outdoors with soft natural light washing over them. The Harbinger of Fate’s dark hair hangs long and loose around his shoulders, slightly tousled as though stirred by a mild breeze, giving him a rugged, and quite the intimidating presence. Sutter wears a sleeveless black top that fits snugly across the chest and shoulders, the fabric emphasizing his physical strength without any need for excess detail or ornamentation. Beside him is Melinda Brraddock, her light blonde hair falls just past the shoulders in loose, natural waves, catching the outdoor light in a way that softens her otherwise serious expression. The top she wears is minimalist and form-fitting, accentuating clean lines rather than curves, paired with an overall look that feels modern, restrained, and quietly strong. Together, dressed in nearly matching black attire, they appear unified and composed.

“Well isn’t this awkward?” Melinda has a wide, ear to ear grin on her face. “I mean, you have been like Captain Ahab chasing your white whale who happens to be my mother Glory Braddock and you have been chasing her for a couple of years now and yet you cannot seem to get the job done; at least, not in singles competition. In tag team action Light in the Darkness certainly has the edge over Twisted & Sadistic. Let’s face it, every single downward spiral you have had in your career began with my mother. She became Supreme Champion at YOUR expense, taking both the Television and Tag titles from you. You wanted a quick rebound after failing in your Trios Cash In, you challenged my mother, and you failed again. In the famous words of Thanos from Endgame, where has all that brought you? Right here, back to me, or at least back to the Braddock family at least.” She pats The Assassin on the back.

“Because whether my mother likes it or not, The Harbinger of Fate IS a part of this family now. So here you are, Amelia, in need of another rebound, in need of some momentum, and you are again trying to get that momentum at the expense of the Braddock name. Now I will let you in on a little secret, Amelia; my mother truly does respect you. Hell, she respects you to a fault. Despite her victories over you, she views you as one of her all time toughest opponents. You may not believe it but it is true, she does respect you a great deal and had you beaten her that last time, she really would have raised your hand and given you your flowers.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“C'est la vie! My mother shows respect because she is weak but unlike Glory Braddock, me and Clyde are NOT weak. We will tell you the truth, even if the truth hurts, and the truth is that you are NOT on the level of my man Clyde Sutter. The truth is that you can kiss your ass goodbye when SCW rolls into Phoenix, Arizona for A Taste of Things To Come. The truth is that Fate will bitch slap you back to reality and force you to accept your proper place in the grand scheme of things.”

Melinda Braddock steps back. The Assassin steps forward and faces the camera. His expression stoic and cold; emotionless.

“People spend their whole lives fighting something they don’t understand. They claw and scrape and pray for control, for choice, for the illusion that tomorrow bends to their will. But Fate doesn’t ask for permission. Fate doesn’t negotiate. Fate writes the script, plans every step, every fall, every rise. We are all just players in its grand design. Some of us scream against it. Some of us break under it. And some of us… accept it.” Sutter motions to himself. “ I know the role I was given. I don’t question it. I don’t resent it. I carry it out. I am not here to change destiny. I am here to enforce it.” He points a finger at the camera, as if pointing at Amelia herself.

“Ms. Nevado… Fate has not been smiling on you.” He chuckles nastily.

“You’ve chased Glory Braddock and come up empty every time. You’ve stood across from her, believing that this time would be different, believing that effort alone could rewrite the ending. But the ending stayed the same. Then Fate opened another door for you. A Trios Contract. A straight line to the SCW World Championship. A moment that was supposed to change everything. And Fate closed that door just as quickly. Cid Turner stood in your way, and once again, you failed.” He sneers.

“That frustration you carry? It’s not anger at your opponents. It’s not bad luck.” He shakes his head slowly, deliberately. “It’s the quiet realization that the world is moving forward without your permission. While you stumble, your partner thrives. La Pequina Luz stands tall as the SCW United States Champion. The gold looks good on her. It fits her destiny. And every time you look at that title, you’re reminded of what you don’t have. What you can’t seem to hold on to. But Fate is merciful… sometimes. Fatal Fortunes gave you another path. A chance to be a champion again. A tag team champion. Not by standing on your own, but by holding on to Luz, riding the momentum she created. And that’s the lesson Fate is trying to teach you.”

“This is where you belong. Fate is putting you in your place, Ms. Nevado. Stripping away the illusion that you are in control. That you decide when you rise, when you win, when you matter. And that’s why you’re frustrated. That’s why you’re angry. Because deep down, beneath the bravado and the excuses, you already know the truth. You are not in control. Fate is.” He smiles coldly, cooly, with great confidence.

“At A Taste of Things To Come, you step into the ring with me. And if you think this is where you blow off steam, where you take out your frustrations and grab a cheap, easy win, then you will fall just like you always do.” Sutter holds up one finger. “There is only one hope for you. One. That you finally grasp what Fate has been trying to show you all along. That your life, your career, your destiny… belongs to something greater than you. But make no mistake about it, I will not take it easy on you. I don’t show mercy. I don’t bend. I am the Harbinger of Fate. I am its Assassin. I exist to carry out its will. And Fate wants to teach you a harsh lesson. At SCW’s A Taste of Things To Come, I will execute that will. I will teach that lesson. Whether you accept it… or not.”

[Wisteria Waltz]

OOC: Chronologically, read Luz's CD before you read Amelia's for this match, as the events of Luz's CD basically lead into the events of this one.
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Just when Amelia didn't think she could feel any lower than she already did, Fatal Fortunes had to prove her wrong.

She had walked into that pair of Breakdowns, fully ready for whatever the random draws had to throw at her, determined to show the world that for as much as they openly respected her wife, she was just as worthy because she had worked just as hard and would only push herself harder to make 2026 her year. Even if she didn't get drawn for a title shot or a chance to earn one down the line, a win to start off the year and reverse her fortunes would go a long way in smothering the flames of her frustration from the past few months.

Instead... she had been humiliated, and by someone she could very well be crossing paths with again very soon down the line.

Facing one of the Glimmer Sisters in and of itself wouldn't have been an issue. Amelia owed them for the shenanigans they pulled to literally steal a win by disqualification to eliminate her team from the Trios Tournament a few months ago, so she was game to actually make Gina properly earn a win over her this time. Unfortunately, Fatal Fortunes almost seemed to spite her yet again, just as it did with the infamous Selena Frost no-show incident a few years ago, conveniently rolling that this particular match was “sponsored by KABLAMia” which apparently meant any of the 'goodies' Derek Adonis was selling for his brand were legal. Amelia had expected some twin trickery and was ready for it this time, considering her older siblings were twins and she was all too familiar with their tactics and had proven so in the past... she hadn't expected getting lube squirted into her eyes, the offer of a vibrator to be used on her, and especially Gina's top 'conveniently' ripping so she could roll Amelia up, stacking her up just right to practically shove her bra into Amelia's face and steal yet another win over her.

The dejected look on her face as the Glimmers danced their way to the back like they'd actually earned anything spoke volumes that were far more deafening than the fan reaction in that moment.

Fatal Fortunes hadn't been a total loss for The Light In The Darkness, though... Luz had stood strong against Clyde Sutter in an Ironman Match to retain her U.S. Title, and then overcame Alex Belmont in a Biker Chain Match to earn the two of them a future shot at the World Tag Team Titles, meaning one more chance to pay the Glimmers back for all of their bullshit... or a chance to prove herself against two wrestlers she knew very well and respected in hopes of reaffirming the respect they had for her, even if Selena and Xander couldn't stand each other.

And yet... in her brain, that was the problem. Luz had won both of those matches, Luz had won the Tag Title opportunity for them given the unique stipulation for the match she'd been drawn for, Luz was still undefeated at Fatal Fortunes despite always running one of the most impressive gauntlets throughout the entire event. Damon Cage was eager to challenge Luz for the U.S. Title at A Taste of Things to Come, Meghan Strader was eager to face Luz in the ring one more time and get a definitive answer on who was better between them.

Luz.

Luz.

Luz.

Amelia grabbed the pillow off of her bed and practically tried to smother herself with it, as if that would somehow tone down the negative thoughts rampaging through her mind like a hurricane. She genuinely hated that she was even thinking this way. Luz was the love of her life, the light that had guided her towards the person she truly wanted to be. Once upon a time, their roles had been reversed, with Amelia being the first between them to win singles gold and even coming very close to winning the very title Luz has now held three times while her beloved was struggling to even really get out of the blocks when they weren't teaming together. Luz had, rightfully, been frustrated about it, but they had talked it out and ultimately come away far better together as a result.

So why was it so hard now to let Luz in and admit to her frustrations face-to-face instead of resorting to what she knew were potshots behind her wife's back when she spoke her piece for Fatal Fortunes?

'It's because you're a Blythe, and you know if Luz helps you solve this problem, that proves how weak you've become.'

“Leave me alone...” Amelia groaned beneath the pillow as that familiar voice decided now was the perfect time to plague her thoughts. At least if it was the haunting remnants of her parents still trying to claim any power over her, she could persevere, but knowing it was her own voice in her head, claiming to be the 'real' her and trying to undo years of working to free herself from every terrible practice her parents had drilled into her skull... it wasn't a voice she could easily ignore, and the fact that it wasn't exactly wrong made her sick to her stomach.

'You have no one but yourself to blame for that embarrassing defeat, Amelia,' the haughty voice she had despised using in the earliest days of her career taunted her. 'You were far too aggressive, far too desperate... you played right into her hands, let her flaunt her goods and make a fool out of you instead of making her play your game, one you know she would've lost. But hey, at least she actually had a bra on this time, unlike that incident from Rise to Greatness last year...'

“Stop trying to make me feel like I'm just some useless lesbian,” Amelia spat as she sat up before hurling the pillow at the wall, hoping it would at least make her feel a little better.

'I don't need to do anything for you to embarrass yourself like that,' her inner voice teased once more. 'Just as I don't need to do anything for you to get riled up by the unfortunate truth that seems to have become the talk of the locker room now. I mean, it didn't take much for Clyde Sutter to make you take his bait, considering he probably sees you as a stepping stone straight back to Luz and her title.'

“You think I care?” Amelia snapped. “Let him think he's got me right where he wants me... he still has to actually back up his words in the ring. I've beaten him before, I was at ringside when he faced Luz, I know what he's capable of and I know I can beat him and start turning all of this around.”

'Can you, though?'

Three simple words, but they were enough to pierce the proverbial armor Amelia was trying to protect herself with. Deep down, she knew that she had what it took to beat Clyde, and she'd proven just that around this same time last year. Clyde had been hired like the assassin he claims to be by the Fall of Man for the sole purpose of trying to soften her up for them, and his efforts had ultimately failed. And yet... once again, that voice in her head had a painfully good point. She had been far too aggressive and desperate against Gina, and she'd come off looking no different when she accepted Clyde's challenge for the pay-per-view. That wasn't the Amelia Blythe that had been raised to be the perfect wrestler, nor was that the Amelia Nevado who represented the technical brilliance that balanced her wife's fast and furious aerial assault.

For a brief moment, Amelia felt grateful that, guided by her frustrations, she had insisted on having a room separate from her wife when they arrived at this hotel in Phoenix, because the last thing she wanted was for Luz to be any more worried about her than she already was if she saw Amelia practically arguing with the air around her as far as it looked. That moment didn't last long, though, as she was almost immediately consumed by a crippling sense of loneliness, left only with her own thoughts to torment her with this belief that she just wasn't good enough, especially when compared to Luz.

Maybe, just maybe... getting her head screwed back on straight and beating Clyde would turn everything around. Maybe she could somehow build her own winning streak, look just as unstoppable as Luz seemed to according to the commentary team, maybe find a way to earn the same opportunities Luz had been making the most of going forward.

'That's an awful lot of maybes in that line of thought,' her so-called 'true' self chimed in again. 'Last I checked, a Blythe never dealt in maybes, a Blythe dealt in absolutes.'

Amelia found herself growling, her hands moving to grab at her hair as if pulling on it would silence this persistent demon in her brain or solve anything. Thankfully, she was stopped from actually attempting anything by a knock at the door. Thinking it was Luz coming to try and check on her for the billionth time, she opened her mouth to claim she wanted to be left alone, but she was beaten to the punch by a different voice calling through the door.

“Amelia?” she heard Darius ask. “Can you open up, please? I was hoping to talk with you.”

'Ah, the man you may as well have turned to as a replacement father,' the inner Amelia crooned. 'Surely he can help you about as well as he's been able to make any progress in stopping The Empire from intervening in your life.'

Amelia huffed at that assessment as she stood up and made her way to the door. So what if part of her wanted to see Darius as a replacement father? He'd been far better to her than Aleister ever had, and he'd once been her father's friend and knew him well enough to absolutely know what he'd put her and her siblings through all in the name of a family legacy was wrong. As for The Empire... despite the certainty of this 'other self' haunting her thoughts now, The Empire had been a slippery pack of eels for a very long time and had given every law enforcement group across the globe headaches at this point trying to take them down.

'It's just such a shame that they've fallen silent all of a sudden and left you and your better half alone,' the inner Amelia taunted.

“Be quiet,” Amelia growled under her breath before she opened the door, locking eyes with Darius as he stood patiently out in the hallway. After a moment, she decided to step out and join him, closing the door behind her. “What's up, Darius?”

“I just wanted to check on you,” he stated, and the words immediately caused Amelia to wince. It wasn't a voluntary action on her part, but given the argument she'd just been having with herself, there was still some mental wounds that felt way too fresh. Thankfully, he seemed to notice and cleared his throat. “Luz didn't send me, if that's what you're worried about. I came of my own volition because you've kind of been confined to your room all day, and I wanted to see if you might consider clearing your head with some training for your next match.”

'He's pitying you,' her inner self decided to provide commentary. 'Perfect pick for a brand new father figure.'

Amelia let out a shaky breath at how annoying the voice in her head decided to be right now. “I'll... consider it. Will Luz be joining us?”

“Only if you want her to be,” Darius told her. “I know that things have been... tense, between the two of you for a little bit now. If you need someone to talk to, I swear on my badge I won't share a word of it to Luz if you don't want me to. Or, if you'd feel more comfortable talking to Dr. Bolton, I can see when she'd be available again.”

“I...” Amelia started before she cut herself off with a groan, leaning her head back against the door. “Maybe I should have a session with Celine again? I don't know... I just know that I'm struggling while Luz is succeeding and I hate that part of me hates her for it, but I hate myself more for not being able to rise to her level no matter what I try. I don't-”

“Hey,” Darius cut her off, placing a firm yet comforting hand on her shoulder to try and help ground her. “I get it... more than you may think. I faced my own setbacks when I wrestled and had to watch as your father ascended to a level he then claimed I could never reach. Even now, I'm frustrated by the fact that The Empire continues to be one step ahead of us, slipping through our fingers no matter how closely we watch them. None of this is easy... but when you finally make it happen, that's what's going to make it oh so satisfying when you finally prove that doubt in your head wrong.”

Amelia trembled for a moment, taking deep breaths as she tried to lead Darius's words sink in. She knew he was right, just as she knew Luz had been right this whole time about this just being a rough patch and all she needs is a solid win to regain her footing and turn it all around. If she can beat Clyde on Sunday, then maybe she can really start making some progress again, just like the NCA can keep making progress if they could just nail down where these delusional cultists were hiding and what they were up to now.

'They'll never be able to catch them,' that nagging voice decided to chime in once more.

'And how do you know?' Amelia tried to mentally retort, growing fed up with herself when she never remembered being this smug and arrogant when she was the perfect pride and joy of her family name.

'It's so painfully obvious, I'm almost embarrassed you haven't figured it out yet,' the 'other her' decided to prod once more. 'Then again... maybe you're just refusing to admit it because you don't want to hurt Luz's feelings when she's done nothing but rub her success in your face for months now, accidental or otherwise.'

Amelia couldn't suppress a growl at that, which got Darius raising an eyebrow.

“Amelia?” he gently asked, which seemed to snap her out of it.

“Sorry...” she bowed her head, quietly cursing at herself for immediately slipping back into old habits her parents forced upon her. “You're right, though... I just need to get my head back in the game and-”

“Kick the ass of some fate-obsessed fool like Luz did!”

Both Amelia and Darius turned to see Paul pumping his fist, though the scene honestly just looked as awkward as it felt. Amelia could feel herself cringing a bit inside, even if part of her wanted to appreciate the supportive effort... and the bitter scars deep in her psyche didn't sound too happy at being directly compared to Luz's successes yet again. Darius, however, didn't hide his displeasure.

“I thought I made it clear downstairs that this was to be a private conversation between Amelia and I, Paul,” he sternly stated.

“And yet, you're having it out in the hallway,” Paul pointed out, and the comment actually set something off in Amelia's brain because the next thing she knew, she'd taken a step towards him in a rather threatening manner, only really realizing it had happened when she saw him backing off with his hands raised in innocence. “My apologies, I'm still struggling a bit with all of this.”

“Then maybe you can explain why you came up here when it sounds like Darius told you not to?” Amelia questioned.

“Right, I, um, actually had a very good reason for that...” Paul admitted awkwardly. “Luz is kind of falling apart down in the lobby. She got a phone call from somebody and it got her to snap something fierce. I'll be honest, I didn't even think she was capable of yelling the way she did.”

“And what would've provoked such a reaction?” Darius prodded.

“I'm not quite sure, I couldn't exactly catch the other end of her phone conversation,” Paul admitted. “I think she knew who it was that called her though... someone named Caleb?”

The hallway went so quiet, a pin could drop and you'd hear it echo even through the carpet. Darius's eyes went wide with concern while Amelia grit her teeth, feeling her fists clench until she could hear the knuckles crack.

“Caleb White...” Darius growled.

“Is The Empire finally making a move again?” Amelia asked under her breath.

“Caleb White?” Paul suddenly looked more shocked. “You said that's the leader of The Empire, correct? Does he just... have a way to contact you?”

“Amelia, let me know whenever you're ready to train,” Darius suddenly said. “Right now, though? I think anything happening with The Empire that's back on the table needs to be addressed urgently.”

Amelia didn't even get a chance to respond before Darius was running for the stairs, not wasting a second to go and find out what on earth Caleb could have called Luz about. Amelia felt her skin crawling at the thought of whatever that snake could've said if it got to Luz that badly, and her own feet were moving to follow after Darius without a second thought.

“It's weird, isn't it?” Paul suddenly said, stopping Amelia dead in her tracks.

“What is?” she asked, maybe sounding a little more irritated than she intended, but her wife was probably having a meltdown because of whatever that deranged zealot was up to now and no amount of frustration suffocating her was going to override the far greater problem that still threatened them day after day.

“The Empire's leader suddenly decides to resurface after he's, according to you, been far too quiet for far too long,” Paul noted. “And the first thing he does is target Luz? I mean no offense when I say this, but if I were in his shoes, I would've preyed upon you given everything you're dealing with right now. But I'm thankfully not some kooky cult leader... and maybe Luz's success is more of a burden than we realized.”

With that, Paul walked past her, seemingly taking his sweet time before he began jogging back towards the stairs he'd come up from. Before he turned that corner, though, Amelia caught it: the subtle grin, as if Paul had accomplished something and was laughing to himself about pulling it off. In a situation like this, even if Paul was still so new to the situation with The Empire he was apparently caught up in, something like this wasn't an issue to be taken so lightly.

'Is it sinking in yet?' the 'perfect' Amelia chuckled from deep in her thoughts. 'As I said, it's been so painfully obvious, I actually feel sorry for you. Think about it... some random guy is suddenly targeted by The Empire while you're all left alone by them when you and Luz have been Caleb's top priority for years now. The way this guy acts, the subtle jabs, the smug expressions when he thinks nobody's looking... if that interaction didn't spell it out for you, then it's no wonder why The Empire will keep being a step ahead of everyone.'

Amelia knew the answer her thoughts were trying to dictate to her, she knew it was more obvious than ever now... but she also knew the repercussions of the truth if this was it, and how devastated Luz would be if she realized the mistake she had made. And yet, as much as she didn't want to consider the thought, as much as admitting it made her want to empty her stomach right here in the hallway, there was no denying it... especially if her 'better version' was so confident about figuring this out already.

“Paul is a spy for The Empire...” she numbly admitted to no one but the air around her and that teasing voice in her mind.

'Congratulations, Mrs. Nevado.' She could practically feel the smug grin burning a hole in her head from her self-professed 'true self.' 'Now the question becomes... what are you going to do about it?'

Amelia hated that she didn't have an immediate answer to that question.