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May 23rd, 2020
Southampton, UK
Off Camera
==========
There is an old saying that should you do not learn
from history then you are doomed to repeat it. It is wise to recall
some lessons from history, it is wise to learn from experience and to grow from
them. However, in some rare instances, it may be better to just let the
past remain in the past. In some instances it may be best to just forget
about the past altogether. Some painful memories should never be brought
back up to the surface.
In the case of one Clyde Sutter, painful memories
of his past should be kept silent. Though to be fair, these memories
cannot really and truly be painful because he has few memories of his past. The
earliest he recalls about his past was living in an orphanage. He has no
memory of his parents, his real biological parents. His earliest
childhood memories were of growing up in an orphanage. The orphanage
itself was a painful memory, though. Those in charge of the orphanage did
not care about him or any of the other children they were charged with caring
for. They were mistreated and malnourished. Clyde knew that his
only hope of survival and of a true life was to run away from the orphanage as
soon as he could and make a life for himself on the streets.
And that is what he did throughout his late teenage
years. He made a living for himself as a drug enforcer, beating up those
who refused to pay drug dealers. At age twenty three he decided to
attempt a legitimate career, and since the only thing he knew how to do was
beat people up, he figured he would do it for a living by becoming a
wrestler. He enrolled at the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School and trained
there for a brief period until he was kicked out by Glory Braddock herself for
being too violent and too brutal. It was a stinging blow to The
Assassin. First the orphanage tried to keep him held back and then Glory
Braddock tried to hold him back.
Luckily he got his way into the wrestling business
thanks to Mason Van Stanton. Mason worked his magic to get Sutter a
contract to wrestle for Supreme Championship Wrestling and the rest is
history. His win/loss record may not be the best but he has been quite impressive
even in defeat. He knows he can win the big one if he just has the
opportunity and the biggest opportunity of them all is coming in the form of
Taking Hold of the Flame. The winner of this forty person rumble match
will main event Rise To Greatness for the SCW World Championship.
Unfortunately Sutter’s chances of entering Taking
Hold of the Flame hinge upon whether or not he is willing to confront his past;
a past he wishes would stay dead and buried. The psychiatrist he has been
seeing, as well as his own agent Mason Van Stanton, will only allow him to
compete if he confronts his past and finds out about the identity of his
parents and why they abandoned him. They believe that their abandoning
him is what has led to Sutter being so angry but nothing could be further from
the truth. Sutter doesn’t give a damn about his family or his past.
He wants it all to remain dead and buried. He wants to remain focused on
the present and the future.
But if he must do this in order to enter Taking Hold
of the Flame, if this is what he must do in order to be cleared to compete,
then he will do it.
There stood a lone structure, reaching the sky...it
was left disregarded with no one near it. overtime the bricks had weakened, the
paint wore off and layers of dust coated over it. The building surely looked
aged. It had been abandoned but was taken over by pigeons fluttering in the
rooms and nesting by the windows, spiders building webs and bats sheltered here
for the night. The edges of the broken glass were as the coastline of a small
country, perhaps one long ago under the night sky, before the time of neon
lights. The glass itself was a grey-brown, inviting the mind to see the settled
dust even at a distance. Around it was the brickwork, perfect beneath the dirt
of years and rising upward to the sky and cloud. It must have been abandoned
for some time, a building waiting for a reason to remain standing.
From the street it looks like nothing. There's just
weary double doors painted racing green. They're closed, which means nothing;
each door has a closer on top. The door has some bullet holes in it. This
building that was once a beacon of its age now resembles something that has
been through a war. Nothing so dramatic has befallen it, just more years that
can be counted without feeling the loosening of the mind. This old
abandoned building, a former orphanage, stands gaunt in the shell that was
downtown, amid the plants that swallow them back into the ever thickening
boreal forest.
Stepping inside the daylight of mid-spring is
replaced by the shadows that cast the walls even more grey and the air that
should be dank is still fresh. It has the feel of an old castle with none of
the charm. Long ago this floor must have been a polished marble, even now there
are patches that show through the encroaching mud and leaf detritus. The
chalky paint fell in fragments leaving the splintered door a bare tarp. It
whined on its amber hinges as my palm pressed gingerly against its moist frame.
Ivy gnarled its way through broken windows, tangling its leathery shape
throughout the wistful abode. The undefinable source of darkness draped over
the walls like a tapestry as I took a wary step over the rotting oak floors.
It was a complete mess, to put it nicely. From outside
the boarded windows, the shabby wood paneling and the pealing door that was
bolted with iron rods, all looked scary and threatening enough to keep the
limited number of villagers away. However behind the scary exterior the innards
where equally destroyed, if not worse off.
There were no doors separating the rooms on the
ground floor yet they could be found a few feet into each room often with large
chunks torn out of them, large scratch marks creating cross hatched patterns
and occasionally there was still paint left clinging to the worn wood.
Surprisingly most of the furniture had survived with minimal damage, only a few
scratches and chips to their name. There was only one rickety staircase leading
to the first floor, again the same long scratch marks could be seen all the way
us the wall opposite the worn, beaten banister. The first floor was in a
considerably better state than the ground floor with all doors still in their
rightful places, however the paint clinging to them, once colourful, now many
shades of yellow. A thick layer of dust settled on every thing in sight giving
the place an atmosphere of being untouched for many years, unlike downstairs
where the dust hung in the air clearly disturbed at a regular occurrence.
The only light source for the dank, dark building
were the cracks within the roof and barricades over the windows throwing
stripes of light into the near destroyed building, that every month housed a
beast so ferocious that it rips and tears at it's own skin.
Even in this dilapidated state, The Assassin
recognizes this place that he now gazes upon; this run down abandoned building
is the orphanage where he grew up. He spent his formative years here,
learning about how life isn’t fair and the only way to get by was through brute
force. He learned his lessons well and ran away to dictate his own
path. Now he has returned to meet a historian from Southampton area in
the United Kingdom. It is someone whom Mason Van Stanton has tracked down
and who claims to know all the information Clyde Sutter needs to know about his
parents.
So where is he? Where is this
historian? Sutter was angry the moment Van Stanton told him he would be
coming here back to Southampton, back to his old stomping grounds. He
never wanted to return and yet here he is, all just to satisfy some stupid
psychiatrist. Just so he can enter the Taking Hold of the Flame battle
royal. But this historian he is supposed to meet isn’t here yet.
And the longer he waits the angrier he gets. And The Assassin is already
fuming.
“Where the fuck is this guy anyway?” The
annoyance in Sutter’s voice is clear and evident. A low growl escapes his
lips. This is the place he wants to spend his Saturday afternoon. “Piece
of shit. I bet Mason sent me on a fucking wild goose chase. I mean,
he didn’t even show a picture of the fucker so I’d know who to look for.
I swear if this idiot stands me up I’m gonna take it out on Van Stanton.”
The Assassin’s anger grows and grows to a boiling
point. He gazes up into the bright blue sky and shouts as loud as he can.
“Where the hell are ya?!”
“You’re an impatient young man.” The
voice startles Sutter to an extent. It quickly turns to anger. Who would
mock him? Who would dare mock him? The Assassin turns to the direction
of the voice and he spots a male figure making his way towards him. The
man that enters can't be more than thirty-five or so, but walks with a cane.
His right leg has the fluidity of youth but the other is jagged like he can't
control it. His curls were midnight black and his eyes were dark brown, framed
by graceful brows. His skin was tanned. He had prominent cheekbones and a
well-defined chin and nose but was always obscured by his fuzzy, thin
beard. He has a manilla folder with him. Sutter’s anger slowly
fades away as he begins to wonder if this is the man he was supposed to
meet. He decides to greet this stranger but keeps his guard up.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I am Jack, a local historian from the area.
Your agent, Mason Van Stanton, spoke with me.”
“Oh he did?” Sutter
smirks knowingly, a sinister grin at that. “What did the crooked bastard
tell ya?”
“Only that you needed to know some information
about your parents. Excuse me but, you are Clyde Sutter, correct?
Or am I making a fool of myself?”
Sutter chuckles. “I like you old man, and while
ya may be making a fool of yourself, I can honestly say ya got the right
guy. I am Clyde Sutter in the flesh.”
“Very good.” Jack
motions to a black rod iron bench a few feet away. “Do you wish to sit down
so we can discuss your parents?”
“Sure…” the
anger returns as his parents are yet again brought up. For some reason
which he cannot put his finger on he feels anxious about this moment. It
is as if some unseen force wishes him to avoid this topic at all costs and he
is growing angrier and angrier the closer he gets to the truth. A part of
him feels he should walk away from this man. But he knows that walking
away now means walking away not only from Taking Hold of the Flame but potentially
from wrestling itself. His psychiatrist and agent have both made it
perfectly clear that Sutter needs to deal with whatever underlying mental
issues he may have before they will allow him to compete in a wrestling ring
again.
So despite his reluctance, despite these negative
feelings he has right now, The Assassin approaches the black bench. Jack
the historian has already found himself a seat on the bench and Sutter sits
down next to him. Jack looks up at Sutter and a stoic gaze forms upon his
face.
“Are you prepared for the truth, Mr. Sutter?”
“Yeah…”
“Are you sure?”
“Damn it I said I was, didn’t I?!”
Sutter remarks angrily. “Do I need to fucking repeat myself?!”
“I heard you, Mr. Sutter.”
Jack sighs. He can feel the anger from Sutter. As far as Clyde is
concerned, he can tell something is wrong. Whatever it is that Jack
knows, it can’t be good. Clyde can tell that Jack is reluctant to let him
know the truth. The Assassin, however, is insistent.
“Look, Jack, I don’t particularly care about my mom
and dad one way or the other but if I don’t find out about them and at least
attempt to convince some fucking suits that I give a damn then I don’t get what
I want. They won’t let me do what I want. So in order to get what I
want I have to play their little game. So just tell me about my mom and
dad so we can get this bullshit over with. Ok?”
“Fair enough.” Jack
reaches into his folder and produces a picture of a man with long stringy, oily
black hair. He hands it to Clyde. “This is Ethan Lawrence Sutter. He
is your father.”
“Yeah? Looks like an ugly fuck. What’s
his deal?”
“Ethan Lawrence Sutter was born in 1964 to Raymond
and Juliette Sutter, a wealthy and well-off couple living in London. Raymond
was a businessman and Juliette was content to be a housewife. They only
had the one child...Ethan...and they lived the ideal lifestyle.”
“Yeah?” Sutter
chuckles at the irony of all this. He always hated and detested the
wealthy and well off. He hated them because he felt they never cared
about anyone else but themselves. And from what little experience he’s
had with the lifestyle of the wealthy, he realizes it is a terribly boring
lifestyle. The fact that his father was born into that lifestyle is
definitely ironic to say the very least. It also raises some questions.
The Assassin hands the photograph back to Jack. “So what happened to my old
man?”
“All seemed well, and to be honest with you it
should have gone well. Ethan lacked for nothing. His parents used
their considerable wealth to spoil him as much as they could. If he
wanted something, they bought it for him. Nothing was outside of their
reach. Nothing was too big of a request. Most would kill for a life
like that, but Ethan grew bored with the lifestyle. He felt his life was
meaningless.”
“So the fucker was depressed?”
Sutter asks. Jack shakes his head.
“No, not quite.” He reaches back into his folder
and produces a photocopied paper. He hands it to Clyde. “This is the note
he left for his parents when he ran away in 1982. As you can see he told
his parents that he felt he could find a more meaningful life outside of the
protections of their wealth and privilege. Their parents used all of
their considerable resources to track down their son but were
unsuccessful. Ethan was quite resourceful himself and managed to stay one
step ahead.”
“So he lived on his own?” This
is another irony that does not escape Sutter. His father, much like him,
ran off at the age of eighteen. The parallels are stacking up and
impresses even Sutter, who before this meeting didn’t care. Now he is
intrigued and wishes to know more. He listens in as Jack continues.
“Ethan spent over a year on his own before he met
up with someone known as Aaron Locklear. Aaron was the leader of a very
small cult, so small that it was not even on the radars of English
authorities. They viewed them as a non-threat, nothing worth even
investigating. It was a very twisted bastardized version of Christianity
that espoused Satan and Jesus as siblings, equals even, and that life itself
was a constant battle between the two warring factions of good and evil.
They believed a war was coming and that they were to fight on the side of
good. They were known as The Christ Conquest Movement. It is
unclear if their specific beliefs were attractive to Ethan or if it was the
sense of belonging and community that attracted Ethan, or perhaps a combination
of the two? Whatever it was, Ethan would eventually become a member of
this organization.”
“So wait…” Sutter
furrows his brow in confusion “...my dad is a culty religious freak?”
“Well, yes. But this is where it gets even
stranger. Remember how I told you that CCM never was viewed as a threat
by English authorities? The fact is that Aaron was often uninspiring and
a very poor leader. His ideas never panned out. Under Aaron’s
leadership they were stagnant. They may as well have been just a support
group that met in secret locations and wrote fan fiction. The few that
did know of their existence viewed them as ridiculous and nonsensical.
Things began to change when your father joined. Your father also viewed
Aaron’s leadership within the group as poor. Ethan had ideas of his own
of how the group should operate and his ideas caught on quickly. His
ideas were also successful whereas Aaron’s were unsuccessful. Remember,
Ethan was the son of a wealthy and successful businessman. He may not
have enjoyed the lap of luxury but he learned a great deal about leadership from
his father. The followers in CCM saw Ethan’s natural leadership abilities
and it didn’t take long before they began following him instead of Aaron.
Aaron eventually had no choice but to step down as leader of the organization.”
“My dad took over?”
Sutter asks. Jack nods his head.
“Yes but it went beyond that. His followers
were so impressed with his leadership ability that they became convinced he was
God made flesh. And Ethan…” Jack
sighs “...it is unknown whether he actually believed it himself or if he was
just using it to manipulate them, but he went with it and ran with it. He
declared himself to be God. That’s when things became worse for the
organization. When people think you are a living god then you can almost
do anything you want and they would accept it. You can tell them to do
anything and they would do it. What was once a militant religious
organization quickly descended into a sex cult for your father’s own
pleasure. All of the female members were more than happy to give their
bodies, hoping to become the concubine for god himself.”
“So you’re saying one of the bitches in this group
was my mom?”
“Most likely, yes. It is unknown which one
because, to be honest with you, the cult is still not on anyone’s radar.
No one knows where the group operates...or if it still operates...that’s
another thing your father decided to do. He took the group off the grid
so no one could find out about them. Once he ‘became’ god he decided to
destroy any and all connection to his past. He even changed his
name. The last recorded reference to the Christ Conquest Movement was
that the leader was a man named Constantine. It is likely Constantine was
Ethan Sutter, who had simply changed his name. After that they went
completely off the grid and no one heard from them since.”
“So what about me?!”
Sutter demands angrily. “If they just fucking disappeared how do you know
he’s my father?!”
“More than likely he got one of his concubines
pregnant. He probably forced to abandon the child...you...and that is how
you ended up at the orphanage. Records from the orphanage show that a
woman known to belong to CCM had dropped you off. No one bothered to find
out her name, unfortunately.”
The Assassin sits for a long time staring down at
the ground. He is trying to take in everything he was told. It is
not every day you find out that your father was the leader of a cult. How
does this change him? How does he take this? Eventually The
Assassin looks up at Jack.
“You said this cult was still active…”
“Possibly. Truth is no one knows for
certain. They went off the grid.”
“So my dad could still be alive? My mom?”
“Maybe but it is impossible to know.”
“That’s enough for me.”
Sutter stands up. He starts to walk away but Jack calls out after him.
“Mr. Sutter!” Jack
shouts. The Assassin turns around and faces Jack who is now standing. “Please,
do not try to find them. It is not worth it. Let the past stay in
the past.”
“Yeah? If you don’t learn from history you’re
doomed to repeat it, old man.”
Sutter turns and storms angrily away.
==========
On Camera
==========
The camera begins recording in what appears to be a
back alley. The lighting is poor, just good enough for this promo to air
and just good enough to see that this place is dirty, and not the kind of place
you want to hang around for too long. It definitely looks like an unsafe
place where the common criminals of the underworld would gather to do their
dirty deeds. Except at this time it is the host for someone rather
different. A few moments later Mason Van Stanton emerges into view.
Van Stanton is wearing a black suit coat and dress pants along with a black
silk button up shirt. Mason looks rather clean cut and has a confident
smirk written across his face as he stares into the camera.
“Taking Hold of the Flame has come upon us yet
again. This is a very special time, not only because it begins the Rise
To Greatness season but also because in this one match any one individual can
catapult themselves to stardom. It doesn’t matter how well you may have
done throughout the previous year or how poorly you may have done throughout
the previous year. In this one night you can make a name for
yourself. And that’s why I love Taking Hold of the Flame.”
Mason chuckles nastily, a creepy grin forms upon his handsome features.
“There is no need for spin or propaganda, let us be
honest with ourselves. My client, ‘The Assassin’ Clyde Sutter, has not
had the most stellar of win loss records since his debut in Supreme
Championship Wrestling. What no one can deny is that he is a fighter, he
is a warrior, and he is no quitter. He has taken James Evans, Selena
Frost, and many other main event level stars and pushed them to their physical
limits. How can he do that? Simple. Because Mr. Sutter has
one quality in excess, more so than anyone else on this roster; sheer,
unmitigated, brutality. Is my client a dark house? Perhaps.
Is he an underdog? Maybe he is. But after it is all said and done,
he will also be the winner of the 2020 Taking Hold of the Flame.”
There is a pause and a few moments later “The
Assassin” Clyde Sutter himself steps into full view of the camera. The
vile Sutter is wearing denim jeans, black boots, no shirt, and a long black
trenchcoat. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, and those of you unfortunate
souls entering Taking Hold of the Flame, feast your eyes upon the man who will
be your judge, jury, and executioner, the man who will assassinate you and your
dreams of being in the main event of Rise To Greatness. Feast your eyes
upon and listen to the next winner of Taking Hold of the Flame, ‘The Assassin’
Clyde Sutter.”
Mason steps back into the darkness allowing what
little light there is to be had by The Assassin himself. Sutter chuckles
lightly. “Y’know, Mason likes to makes things sound all nice and pretty with
metaphors and flowery language. That’s good for him and, to be honest, a
lot of what he said is true. Taking Hold of the Flame is the one night a
guy like me can come outta nowhere and make each and every one of you fuckheads
sit up and take notice of me.”
“Let’s be real, if the braintrust at SCW had its
way, the Rise To Greatness main event would have some sorta dumbass storybook
ending. Blake Mason wins Taking Hold of the Flame and lo and behold Bree
retains the title so that those two love sick bitches can beat the hell outta
each other in some sorta bitch ass version of The Young and the Restless.
Who the hell wants to see that bullshit? Those two should just get over
their fucking selves, have some damned hate sex, and then forget about
it! Spare the rest of us from having to deal with your god awful
unimportant sexually deprived drama!”
“Or maybe Aaron Blackbourne gets to main event his
very first Rise To Greatness main event against his good friend Owen
Cruze. Awwww, how sickeningly sweet isn’t it? It makes me want to
fucking vomit. Those two fucking goodie-goodie corporate kiss ass fucks
do not belong anywhere near the main event. And who wants to see two smiley
low lives like them anywhere near the main event anyway? Or maybe we
could see Syren in her millionth main event or Sienna Swann in her millionth
fucking time.” Sutter shakes his head. A low
chuckle then escapes his lips.
“Y’see, I’m not as bad a guy as you dumbasses like
to make me out to be. I’m doing you shitheads a favor. Instead of
seeing the same old tired bullshit retread over and over again year after
fucking year I’m gonna give ya something fresh, something new, something brutally
honest.” An evil glint enters the eyes of The Assassin. “And
when I mean brutal, I truly do mean brutal. You may not think I got a
chance in hell to win, but like Mason said, in one night a guy like could shock
the world, and this match itself plays to each and every one of my
advantages. Taking Hold of the Flame isn’t about strategy, it is a god
damn fight for survival and I have had to fight and claw for survival all of my
damn life! Some of these clowns in this match...Alistaire Allocco...David
Helms...Jake Starr...they were either born into this business or handed this
business on a silver fucking platter just because of who they are! They
don’t know a god damn thing about having to work hard for everything that you
have! They don’t know a damn thing about having to fight to survive!” The
Assassin is intense as he beats upon his chest.
“So is Mason right by saying that on any given
night a guy like me could take this opportunity given to me, Taking Hold of the
Flame, and run with it straight to the main event of Rise To Greatness?
Damn right. But y’know, whereas Mason prefers to use flowery language I
just tell it like it is. So here is all I’m gonna say about this year’s
Taking Hold of the Flame.” A sinister grin forms upon Sutter’s evil
face. “I’m going to kick the ever living shit out of thirty nine other
worthless pieces of garbage, throw them all over the top rope, and win Taking
Hold of the Flame. I will main event Rise To Greatness. I will
become YOUR SCW World Champion.”
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