The Adventures of the Misfits of Mayhem - Episode 3: The Interviews
Lady Molly of Scotland Yard dives deep into secrets, grudges, and half-truths across nine revealing interviews.
But the closer she gets to the truth, the more tangled the web becomes… and one name keeps surfacing: Ace MacDougall.
Scene: Interview 1 – Lady Molly & Madman Mason
Setting: A dimly lit lounge inside the NPCW Arena. A crackling fireplace casts long shadows over antique furniture. LADY MOLLY sits with her legs crossed, a leather notebook in one gloved hand, her dark eyes calm and perceptive. Across from her is MADMAN MASON, visibly shaken, his hair wild, his boots still muddy. He clutches a half-eaten fish plushie Flippers used to carry. His knee bounces. His eyes are red.
LADY MOLLY (gently)
Mr. Mason, thank you for meeting with me. I know this is difficult.
MASON (waving it off)
No-no-no, I need to talk. I need to find him. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—okay that’s a lie, I ate a lot, but only to keep my strength up. Flippers… he's my heart.
LADY MOLLY (softly smiling)
Your emotional support penguin. You’ve mentioned that he helps you… remain focused?
MASON (sighs, fidgeting with the plushie)
Focused, sane, grounded. I mean, Negropolis is great, but he doesn’t do the whole “emotions” thing. Flippers though? He chirps at me when I get too wound up. He nuzzles my hand when I’m sad. He’s got this little noise—meeep!—he makes when I talk too much, and it’s adorable and insulting at the same time!
LADY MOLLY (noting)
And the last time you saw him?
MASON
Right before the match with the Nutcracker Legion. I told him to be good, gave him a little snack fish, kissed his forehead... (voice cracks) and told him I'd be back for cuddles. When I got back, he was gone.
He clenches his fists. His entire posture stiffens.
MASON (his tone darkens)
Whoever took him… whoever touched him… I swear, Lady Molly, I’ll drop ‘em so hard they’ll bounce off the ice like curling stones. I'll lock ‘em in a freezer and play “Let It Go” on repeat ‘til their souls give up!
LADY MOLLY (calmly)
I understand your anger. But please, Mr. Mason, control is our ally right now.
He breathes in sharply, eyes darting around the room, before deflating and slumping back in the chair.
MASON (quietly)
Sorry. Sorry. Jack just wants his little buddy back.
LADY MOLLY (gently flipping a page)
Tell me, did Flippers ever seem… uneasy around anyone? Any signs of distress or fear in the last few days?
MASON (thinks)
No... but… Ace said something weird.
LADY MOLLY (intrigued)
Go on.
MASON
He said maybe the Polar Bears took Flippers for leverage. For a title shot. But they already had a rematch scheduled. So… why suggest that?
LADY MOLLY (pencils it in)
Interesting. Very interesting.
MASON (suddenly whispering)
Do you think it was him? Do you think… Ace?
LADY MOLLY (measured)
I think you’ve been through a great deal. And fear makes shadows out of everything. But shadows… can reveal just as much as they hide.
MASON (squinting)
That’s... either very profound or very British.
LADY MOLLY (with a smile)
Both, I should hope.
A long pause.
LADY MOLLY
One final question, Mr. Mason. If the person who took Flippers was standing in front of you right now… what would you say?
MASON (straightens up, grips the plush tighter)
I’d look them in the eyes… and say, “You messed with the wrong flightless bird, buddy.”
And then I'd hug Flippers… and thank him for waiting for me.
Lady Molly’s eyes soften. She closes her notebook.
LADY MOLLY
Thank you, Mr. Mason. That will be all… for now.
MASON (half-standing)
You’re gonna find him, right? I mean… you have to. You’re the lady with the Yard!
LADY MOLLY (with a wink)
Scotland Yard. And yes… I always find what I’m looking for.
As Mason exits the room—still mumbling promises of justice and revenge—Lady Molly leans back, thoughtful, pen tapping against her chin. A single phrase escapes her lips…
LADY MOLLY
“Fear makes shadows…” indeed.
Scene: Interview 2 – Lady Molly & Negropolis
Setting: A private study within the NPCW Arena. The walls are lined with faded maps of ancient cities and mysterious ruins, the windows fogged by the cold outside. LADY MOLLY sits in a high-backed chair, her posture flawless, notebook in hand. Across from her, standing with arms folded and jaw clenched, is NEGROPOLIS—the cryptic and deathly tag champion. His eyes are shadowed beneath a skull mask. He does not sit.
LADY MOLLY (with practiced calm)
Mr. Negropolis. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.
NEGROPOLIS (gruff)
Didn’t agree. Was told. Mason begged.
LADY MOLLY (ignoring the tone)
Fair enough. I’ll be brief. I want to ask you about Flippers.
A long silence.
NEGROPOLIS (flatly)
He’s missing. That’s unfortunate.
LADY MOLLY (head tilted)
You never particularly liked him, did you?
NEGROPOLIS (voice low)
I don’t “like” things. I tolerate what serves a purpose.
LADY MOLLY
And what was Flippers’ purpose?
NEGROPOLIS
He keeps Mason from combusting. That’s useful… to me.
She jots something down.
LADY MOLLY
You say “useful,” but Mason described him as “family.” You don’t consider him family?
Negropolis turns his gaze toward the window. There’s a flicker—small, but real—of discomfort in the silence.
NEGROPOLIS (quietly)
Family… doesn’t last long where I’m from.
LADY MOLLY (softly)
And yet… here you are. Staying. Fighting. Mourning. You may be more sentimental than you let on.
Negropolis doesn’t respond. He only exhales—slow, measured. He steps forward, now standing closer to her.
LADY MOLLY
Let’s change tracks. Count Vlad. How long has it been since you last spoke?
NEGROPOLIS (firmly)
Months. Since HCW. Since we were… discarded.
LADY MOLLY (raising a brow)
No contact since?
NEGROPOLIS (pauses)
No. Not until—
LADY MOLLY (interrupting, eyes narrowing)
—until the text you sent two weeks ago. After you and Mason won the NPCW Tag Team Titles.
Negropolis stiffens slightly. It's subtle… but it's there.
NEGROPOLIS (mutters)
You know about that?
LADY MOLLY
I make it a point to know everything. Why send it?
NEGROPOLIS (shrugs)
To rub it in. He cast us out. Told us we were failures. I wanted him to see what he threw away.
LADY MOLLY
And how did he respond?
NEGROPOLIS
He didn’t. Not a word. Just silence. As always.
LADY MOLLY (carefully)
But silence can be loud, can’t it? Especially when you expect noise.
A long pause. Negropolis’s eyes flick to her, reading her.
NEGROPOLIS
You think Vlad’s behind this?
LADY MOLLY (coolly)
I think… people don’t take betrayal well. Especially egomaniacal wrestling moguls.
Negropolis’s lips twitch—almost, almost a smirk.
LADY MOLLY
Last question. Ace MacDougal. What’s your take on him?
This time, Negropolis doesn't hesitate.
NEGROPOLIS
He talks too much. Eats too loud. Forgets too easily. Something’s… off.
LADY MOLLY (leaning in)
Off… how?
NEGROPOLIS
I’ve asked him about that night. Three times. His story shifts like shadows. Different details. Wrong orders. Small things… but I notice them.
LADY MOLLY (closing her notebook)
As do I.
She stands. Negropolis doesn’t move. The two of them stand facing one another like statues in a mausoleum—one carved of ice, the other of iron.
LADY MOLLY (gently)
Thank you, Mr. Negropolis. If you think of anything else—anything at all—you know where to find me.
NEGROPOLIS (gravelly)
Don’t worry. If I find anything… I will.
He turns and walks out, cloak trailing behind like smoke. Lady Molly watches the door close. Then, with precise motion, she writes one note in her book:
“He lied. But not about the penguin.”
Fade to black.
Scene: Interview 3 – Lady Molly & Edie
Setting: A quiet garden patio outside the NPCW arena café. Snowflakes drift through the air, melting softly on wrought-iron furniture. EDIE sits with a mug of hot cocoa in both hands, her scarf bundled around her neck, cheeks pink from the cold. LADY MOLLY sits across from her, notebook resting on the table, gloved hands folded neatly.
LADY MOLLY (with warmth)
Thank you for meeting me out here, Ms. Edie. I thought a bit of fresh air might be good for the nerves.
EDIE (smiling kindly)
I appreciate that. Though, to be honest, nerves are all I’ve had lately. Poor Jack’s a wreck.
LADY MOLLY
I’ve seen. The bond between him and Flippers… it’s quite remarkable.
EDIE
Oh, it is. That little penguin is more than just a mascot. He grounds Jack. Keeps him balanced. That bird waddled into his life and brought out a side of him even he didn’t know he had.
LADY MOLLY (jotting a note)
You and Mr. Mason—how long have you been together?
EDIE (smiling softly)
Almost two months now. But it feels longer. Jack… he’s intense, unpredictable, a little chaotic. But there’s so much love in him. So much heart. And when he cares, he really cares.
LADY MOLLY
And lately?
Edie pauses. Her hands tighten around her mug.
EDIE
He’s different. Since Flippers was taken. It’s like… the Jack I know is slipping away … meaner more intense. I see it in his eyes, the way he talks—like the world’s on fire and he’s the only one with a bucket. He wants to hurt someone, and it scares me.
LADY MOLLY (gently)
Do you think he would?
EDIE (after a beat)
Only if he truly thought it would bring Flippers back. He’d move mountains… or throw people through them.
LADY MOLLY
Has he ever spoken of enemies? People who might want to hurt him through Flippers?
EDIE
Well… he blames the Polar Bears, of course. But honestly, I think that’s more anger than logic. He and Ace have gone back and forth on a few theories. Negropolis just watches. Always watching. Honestly, that’s unnerving in a whole other way.
LADY MOLLY
Do you trust Ace MacDougal?
EDIE (frowns)
I want to. He’s sweet, funny… eats too much deli meat. But I’ve seen Negropolis watching him lately. Quietly. Like he’s piecing something together. And Jack said something strange too—Ace keeps changing parts of his story. Not huge things, just… off.
Lady Molly nods, the corner of her lip tightening ever so slightly.
LADY MOLLY
Sometimes, the smallest lies are the most telling.
EDIE (tilting her head)
Do you think Ace had something to do with this?
LADY MOLLY (closing her notebook)
I think… truth has layers. And I plan to peel them all back.
Edie looks down into her cocoa, her voice smaller now.
EDIE
Just find Flippers. For Jack. For all of us.
LADY MOLLY (rising, placing a hand gently on Edie’s shoulder)
I will. I promise. One stitch at a time.
As she walks away into the swirling snow, the camera lingers on Edie—alone on the patio, her scarf fluttering in the wind as she watches Lady Molly disappear into the mist.
Scene: Interview 4 – Lady Molly & Dave "The Brute" Kent
Setting: A dim conference room inside the North Pole Arena. Metal folding chairs, one fluorescent light buzzing faintly overhead. LADY MOLLY sits poised, unbothered by the bleak surroundings. Across from her is DAVE "THE BRUTE" KENT, arms crossed, scowl fixed, notebook untouched. He wears his commentator’s blazer but clearly resents being pulled away from his chili.
LADY MOLLY (gracefully)
Mr. Kent, thank you for agreeing to this—
DAVE KENT (cutting her off)
Didn’t agree. Got told I had to come in or “it’d look suspicious.” My contract doesn’t cover Sherlock Holmes cosplay, but here we are.
LADY MOLLY (ignoring the jab)
Let’s begin then. Your commentary was… absent during a large portion of Chill Factor. Where were you?
DAVE KENT (snorts)
Getting a sandwich. You ever try announcing for three hours with nothing but throat lozenges and cold water? I came back for the main event. Same time Flippers vanished, apparently. I had nothing to do with that, by the way. I don’t hurt animals. Even ridiculous ones in scarves.
LADY MOLLY (pen poised)
Noted. Did you see anything unusual during your time away?
DAVE KENT (pauses, stroking his chin)
Now that you mention it… yeah. There was something weird. Out back near the loading zone.
LADY MOLLY
Go on.
DAVE KENT
There was a black car. Classy model—chrome bumper, tinted windows, running engine. Just sitting there. No driver in sight. This was maybe thirty minutes before I got back to ringside.
LADY MOLLY (sharp)
Did you recognize it?
DAVE KENT (shakes head)
Never seen it before. But as I was heading in, I saw someone walk up to it. Guy in a long coat. Top hat. Cane. You know—full Dickens villain vibe.
LADY MOLLY
Scrooge?
DAVE KENT (nods)
That’s the one. Ebenezer himself. Just strolled up, tapped on the window. Someone let him in. Car drove off maybe five minutes later. Quiet as a ghost.
Lady Molly scribbles quickly.
LADY MOLLY
And no one else noticed?
DAVE KENT (shrugs)
It’s NPCW. We’ve got snowmen that fight vampires. A black car in the parking lot doesn’t raise eyebrows.
LADY MOLLY
Yet you remembered it.
DAVE KENT (gruffly)
I’m old, not blind. And something about that car—it didn’t belong. Felt… wrong. Like a rattlesnake under silk sheets.
LADY MOLLY
And Mr. Scrooge?
DAVE KENT (leans forward, more serious)
He’s always been a weasel, but this? This ain’t petty title shenanigans. This smells like plans. Plans someone like Vlad might make.
LADY MOLLY (raising a brow)
You believe Count Vlad is involved?
DAVE KENT
Let me put it this way. If I were still betting—and I’m not, for legal reasons—I’d say this has Dominion stink all over it. Only question is whether Ace knows more than he’s saying.
LADY MOLLY
You don’t trust Ace?
DAVE KENT (snorts)
I don’t trust anyone who calls their third helping of potato salad “light snacking.”
LADY MOLLY (smiling faintly)
Duly noted.
She rises, offering her gloved hand. Dave looks at it like it’s a snake before shaking it.
LADY MOLLY
Thank you, Mr. Kent. If anything else comes to mind…
DAVE KENT
I’ll yell into a microphone like I always do.
LADY MOLLY
I imagine you will.
As she exits, her expression turns thoughtful. She whispers under her breath:
LADY MOLLY
“A black car… and a ghost from Christmas past.”
Scene: Interview 5 – Lady Molly & Slick Ricky Vega
Setting: A cluttered media lounge behind the North Pole Arena. Music posters from the 1980s line the walls, and a lava lamp flickers on a desk that smells vaguely of hairspray. SLICK RICKY VEGA lounges across a pleather couch, jacket unbuttoned, aviators still on indoors. LADY MOLLY stands elegantly at the edge of the room, notebook poised, visibly unsure if she should sit anywhere.
SLICK RICKY VEGA (grinning wide)
Whoa-hoh! If it ain’t Lady Sherlock herself! You here to solve the Mystery of the Missing Mascot? Let’s crank it up to eleven, babe!
LADY MOLLY (coolly)
Mr. Vega, thank you for making time between… air guitar solos.
SLICK RICKY VEGA (flicks his hair back)
Anything for a backstage VIP like yourself. Call me “Backstage Ricky,” queen of clues. Lay it on me.
LADY MOLLY
Very well. I’ll be direct. The night Flippers went missing… did you notice anything unusual?
SLICK RICKY VEGA (leans back, squints thoughtfully)
Well, y’know, I did see a guy messing with the electrical panels. Said he was maintenance, but he wasn’t one of our regular spark-jockeys. Wore a beige jumpsuit—no badge, no name tag, just a walkie and a bad attitude. Grunted when I said, “Hey, bro, rock on.” Super sus.
LADY MOLLY (jotting)
And you didn’t report that?
SLICK RICKY VEGA
Look, people come and go back here all the time. Sometimes it's catering, sometimes it’s a guy dressed as a turkey. I didn’t think it was penguin-napping serious.
LADY MOLLY
Fair enough. Did you see Dave Kent, Scrooge, or Ace MacDougal backstage that evening?
SLICK RICKY VEGA
Oh, totally. Big Dave was stomping around all night like a bulldog that missed breakfast. Heard he was ticked over Hammer Washington calling him out about the Truth Hurts episode. Had a serious grumble energy.
LADY MOLLY
And the others?
SLICK RICKY VEGA (leans in with sudden drama)
Now this is where it gets spicy. I saw Ace—“Big Mac Attack” as I call him—talking to Ebenezer Freakin’ Scrooge right before the Misfits cut their promo. They were huddled up near the loading dock. Ace handed him some papers—looked official. Scrooge pocketed them and dipped out the side door like a bat outta Dickens.
LADY MOLLY
You’re certain?
SLICK RICKY VEGA
As sure as I am that “Cherry Bomb” is still the greatest rock anthem ever written.
LADY MOLLY (calmly)
And the backstage security cameras—why weren’t they operational that night?
SLICK RICKY VEGA (rubbing his chin)
Now that is weird. The tech guys said something about a systems reboot—maybe tied to that mystery repairman. Whole west wing of the building was dark on the grid. Cameras, lights, even the vending machines went haywire. Total blackout.
Lady Molly closes her notebook and gives a small nod. Her expression, however, is more thoughtful than ever.
LADY MOLLY
Thank you, Mr. Vega. You’ve been most… illuminating.
SLICK RICKY VEGA (winking)
Any time, Lady M. Next time you need backstage access to the truth, you know where to find the Sultan of Scoop.
LADY MOLLY (as she walks away)
Let’s just hope the truth doesn’t need a pyrotechnics budget.
As she exits, Ricky pulls out a comb, fluffs his hair, and hums "Rock You Like a Hurricane" under his breath.
Scene: Interview 6 – Lady Molly & Eddie Ellington
Setting: A narrow hallway behind the NPCW media room. Framed photos of past NPCW champions line the walls. LADY MOLLY stands with perfect posture, her notebook in one gloved hand. Across from her leans EDDIE ELLINGTON, looking smug in his trademarked sunglasses, T-shirt and jeans.
EDDIE ELLINGTON (grinning)
Well, well, Scotland Yard comes to NPCW. What’s next, a murder mystery dinner during the Battle Royale?
LADY MOLLY (pleasantly aloof)
No hors d'oeuvres, I’m afraid. Just questions, Mr. Ellington.
EDDIE ELLINGTON
Then allow me to answer them with all the charm and class I’m known for—which is to say, more than Dave Kent could muster with a cue card.
LADY MOLLY
Speaking of Mr. Kent, you were called in to replace him after his… abrupt departure from the commentary desk?
EDDIE ELLINGTON (snorts)
He stormed off after Hammer Washington poked at his “legacy.” Poor Dave—can dish it out but can’t take a little jab. I was the emergency call, like a fire extinguisher in a tuxedo.
LADY MOLLY
And yet you didn’t appear on commentary for the night.
EDDIE ELLINGTON
Krampus had the headset already, bless his grumbling soul. Then Brute Kent comes stomping back in, red in the face, still chewing on Hammer’s insult. I figured, “Let him have his moment.” Why waste gold commentary on an audio feud?
LADY MOLLY (eyebrow raised)
So where did you go instead?
EDDIE ELLINGTON
Backstage. Hung around catering, snagged a fruit cup. Talked shop with the Big Bad Wolf—which, yes, was a little unusual. The Wolf Pack wasn’t on the card, but Wolf said he had business with management. We traded insults, gossiped, you know… “broadcaster bonding.”
LADY MOLLY (scribbling)
Did you see anything suspicious?
EDDIE ELLINGTON (shrugs)
Just the usual NPCW madness. A snowman rehearsing promos, someone spray-painting candy canes on a yeti. Oh—and my replacement yogurt went missing, but I’ve learned to live with betrayal.
LADY MOLLY
You’ve made your dislike of Flippers rather public. Did you have any involvement in the penguin’s disappearance?
EDDIE ELLINGTON (mock offended)
Heresy! Yes, I hate Flippers. He’s a waddling disgrace to the industry. But I respect the grift. Stealing him? No, no, no. That’s amateur hour. I want Flippers retired, not kidnapped. If I ever do something, it’s on pay-per-view, with a monologue and a confetti cannon.
LADY MOLLY (dryly)
Reassuring.
EDDIE ELLINGTON (leans in conspiratorially)
You want my two cents, Duchess? Someone’s playing mind games. This whole thing stinks of performance—smoke and mirrors. And if you're sniffing around Scrooge and Ace... well, those two are as tight-lipped as a locker room during flu season.
LADY MOLLY (closes notebook)
Thank you for your time, Mr. Ellington.
EDDIE ELLINGTON (smirking)
If you solve the case, I want exclusive rights to the made-for-TV movie. Title: "Penguin Gone: The Flippers Fiasco."
LADY MOLLY (over her shoulder as she walks away)
I’ll be sure to consult your agent… after I consult the truth.
Fade out as Eddie whistles an off-key version of the NPCW theme and strolls off toward catering, brushing imaginary dust from shoulders.
Scene: Interview 7 – Lady Molly & Big Bad Wolf
Setting: A dimly lit locker room in the NPCW arena. The sound of a distant power tool echoes through the hallway. LADY MOLLY stands at the center of the room, posture graceful and unwavering. Across from her, slouched against a row of lockers in his leather vest and gold chain, is the Big Bad Wolf — chewing a toothpick, sunglasses still on, arms crossed with amused disdain.
BIG BAD WOLF (grinning)
Well, well, well. You must be the classy little bloodhound they got sniffin’ around for that snowball with flippers.
LADY MOLLY (unbothered)
Lady Molly. Scotland Yard. And the “snowball” is a beloved mascot, abducted during a championship event. I’m here to ask why you were at Chill Factor when you and your Pack weren’t on the card.
BIG BAD WOLF (tilts his head)
Tough crowd. Alright, listen up, Duchess. I came to talk business. Nothin’ more. I’m a wrestler. I go where the matches are—and where the money is.
LADY MOLLY (pen ready)
Business with whom, specifically?
BIG BAD WOLF
Ebenezer freakin’ Scrooge. Everyone knows he’s the one really callin’ the shots from the shadows. Not that grinning elf they parade out at pressers. I wanted a sit-down. Two things: a rematch between the Misfits and the Howlers... and a one-on-one match with Rudolph. Been itching for that for a long time.
LADY MOLLY
And how did Mr. Scrooge respond?
BIG BAD WOLF (snorts)
He barely looked at me. Said the Misfits' title defenses were “fully booked for the next few months.” Kept mumbling about scheduling chaos and budget approvals. The guy looked like his sleigh hit a blizzard. Totally distracted.
LADY MOLLY
So he denied both requests?
BIG BAD WOLF
Didn’t even listen. Brushed me off like I was some rookie in a reindeer mask. You know what I think? He was worried. Not about me—but something else. Maybe someone leaned on him. Maybe he got cold feet.
LADY MOLLY (measured)
You made several threats against Flippers on broadcast. Mocked him. Called him "future mittens." Some thought they were more than jokes.
BIG BAD WOLF (leans forward, eyes narrowed)
Let’s be clear, sweetheart. I hate that little ice cube. Makes a joke of this business. But I don’t kidnap. I maul things—in the ring, not out. If I wanted Flippers gone, I'd do it in front of the fans, live on Pay-Per-View, while posing for the cover of NPCW Illustrated.
LADY MOLLY (carefully watching him)
So you're denying any involvement?
BIG BAD WOLF
Denying? No, darling. I’m promising. I don’t hide. I don’t sneak. That ain't the Wolf way. But if you ever do find out who clipped the chicklet, tell 'em this: I want the first bite when he’s found.
LADY MOLLY
I’ll keep that in mind. If you remember anything else—anyone suspicious backstage, unfamiliar faces, unusual activity…
BIG BAD WOLF
There’s always something suspicious in NPCW. Snowmen, witches, gingerbread mutants. But nah. That night? Just Scrooge looking like he’d seen a ghost. Or maybe was about to.
Lady Molly nods slowly, notebook closing with a quiet snap. She turns to leave.
BIG BAD WOLF (calling after her)
Hey, Molly?
LADY MOLLY (pauses, turns her head)
Yes?
BIG BAD WOLF (grinning again)
You ever get tired of chasing shadows… come watch me work sometime. You’ll learn more from the ring than any clue.
LADY MOLLY (without missing a beat)
Only if you promise not to eat the evidence.
She exits. The Wolf flicks his toothpick into a trash can and chuckles darkly.
Scene: Interview 8 – Lady Molly & Hammer Washington
Setting: A quiet media lounge with dark wood paneling and framed posters of historic NPCW matches. A vintage NPCW microphone sits on the table beside an open notebook. HAMMER WASHINGTON, poised and relaxed in a charcoal sport coat, sits with the posture of a man who's seen it all. LADY MOLLY enters, elegant as ever, notebook in hand, her demeanor respectful.
LADY MOLLY
Mr. Washington—thank you for taking the time. I know this has been a long week.
HAMMER WASHINGTON (warmly)
Always got time for a proper conversation, ma’am. And please, just Hammer. Everyone else does.
LADY MOLLY (smiles softly)
Very well, Hammer. I’m following up on an incident during Chill Factor. Specifically, your exchange with Mr. Dave Kent that led to his abrupt departure from the commentary desk.
HAMMER WASHINGTON (nods, measured)
Ah, that. Yes, well... I might’ve ruffled old Dave’s feathers a bit. Wasn’t trying to run him off, mind you. Just giving him a bit of his own medicine.
LADY MOLLY
You were referencing his recent appearance on The Truth Hurts—the HCW program?
HAMMER WASHINGTON (chuckles)
That’s right. Truth Wayne gave Dave a rough ride—called him out on some of his usual nonsense. Nothing too serious, just one of those “gotcha” moments the kids love. Before the show, Ace MacDougal was showing the clip around on his phone. Had some of the boys laughing. That’s what reminded me of it, to be honest.
LADY MOLLY (scribbling)
So you hadn’t planned the remark?
HAMMER WASHINGTON
Not a bit. Just figured I’d slip in a jab or two, the same way Dave’s been doing for years. Didn’t expect him to take it so personally. He’s usually got thicker skin.
LADY MOLLY
Did you see Mr. Kent at all after he left the desk?
HAMMER WASHINGTON
Not until the Main Event. He came back, grabbed his headset, and went right back to work like nothing happened. Didn't say a word to me. I figured, let sleeping bears lie.
LADY MOLLY
Did you notice anything else unusual that night? People out of place? Suspicious activity?
HAMMER WASHINGTON (shakes head gently)
Truth be told, I was locked into the matches. Commentary takes full focus, especially with a card that stacked. I didn’t see anything strange... outside the usual NPCW flavor.
LADY MOLLY
But you can confirm—Ace MacDougal was showing the Truth Hurts footage backstage before the show?
HAMMER WASHINGTON
Yes, ma’am. Laughin’ it up with a couple of wrestlers, like it was part of the pre-show entertainment. Nothing mean-spirited... just locker room ribbing. Though, now that I think about it, Ace seemed a little too proud of that moment.
LADY MOLLY (closing notebook)
You've been most helpful, Hammer. I appreciate your insight—and your candor.
HAMMER WASHINGTON (nods respectfully)
Anytime, Lady Molly. I hope you find that little penguin. Might not be my favorite mascot, but... the crowd loves him. And right now, this place could use a little heart.
LADY MOLLY (softly)
Yes. Heart—and truth.
She exits the room. Hammer leans back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully toward the door, as the sound of the arena echoes faintly in the distance.
Scene: Interview Interlude – Lady Molly & Victoria Deschamps
Setting: A modest NPCW office tucked just behind the main production hallway. The walls are lined with case files, photos, and a detailed corkboard full of tacked-up notes, strings, and diagrams. At a small desk, LADY MOLLY sits gracefully, pen in hand, her notebook open. A steaming cup of tea rests beside her. She reviews her notes on Flippers’ disappearance—each page a step deeper into a strange and tangled web.
A firm but polite knock breaks the stillness.
LADY MOLLY (without looking up)
Enter.
The door swings open and VICTORIA DESCHAMPS steps inside—confident, poised, and dressed in a sleek navy blazer with gold buttons. Her striking red hair is pinned back, and her eyes scan the room with focus. She walks with the air of someone who both commands and conceals.
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS
Lady Molly. I hope I’m not intruding.
LADY MOLLY (standing, composed)
Not at all, Ms. Deschamps. Please—do come in. To what do I owe this… unexpected pleasure?
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS (smiling warmly)
I’ve been following your progress. Quietly, of course. Your reputation precedes you, and I must say… you’ve caused quite the stir.
LADY MOLLY (measured tone)
Stirring is rarely my aim, but I do appreciate results. The penguin's disappearance is no small matter here.
VICTORIA (nods, circling the office slowly)
Indeed. But sometimes the smallest of things lead to the greatest of revelations. I believe you’re due to interview Ebenezer Scrooge next?
LADY MOLLY
Yes. His name has come up several times—always indirectly, always conveniently out of reach. There’s something evasive about him. And I do hate evasive men.
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS (pausing, then softly)
Then I would ask—off the record—that you pay close attention during your talk. Look deeper. I suspect Mr. Scrooge’s… connections go beyond what most realize.
LADY MOLLY (eyes narrowing)
You’re speaking in riddles, Ms. Deschamps. Connections to what—or whom?
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS (lightly, carefully)
Let’s just say there are forces at work trying to steer this company—and perhaps the world beyond—toward darkness. I believe Mr. Scrooge knows more than he lets on.
LADY MOLLY
And you would like me to find out just how deep those connections go?
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS (with a sly, knowing smile)
Precisely. I’ve... employed outside assistance to look into one particularly troubling name, but the trail remains elusive. You, however, have a talent for peering behind the mask.
LADY MOLLY (cautious)
And what exactly is the name you’re hunting?
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS (steps closer, lowers her voice)
You may not find it in your records yet… but it’s whispered in places most don’t dare to tread. Vlad.
A brief silence. Lady Molly stiffens—she’s heard the name mentioned once or twice, always shadowed, always avoided.
LADY MOLLY (evenly)
I see. And you believe Scrooge is linked to this… Vlad?
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS
I know he is. But I need something concrete. Your discretion is, of course, assumed.
LADY MOLLY (calmly closes her notebook)
I am many things, Ms. Deschamps. Indiscreet is not one of them.
VICTORIA DESCHAMPS (smiles, reassured)
I had a feeling. Good hunting, Lady Molly.
Victoria turns and exits with purpose, her heels clicking softly down the hall. Lady Molly lingers a moment, her hand resting on the closed notebook.
LADY MOLLY (to herself, quietly)
Vlad… Let’s see what secrets old Scrooge keeps in his dusty ledger.
She gathers her notes, straightens her posture, and prepares for her next interview.
Scene: Interview 9 – Lady Molly & Ebenezer Scrooge
Setting: A private boardroom inside the NPCW corporate office. Rich mahogany walls, frosted glass windows, and a roaring fireplace set the stage. EBENEZER SCROOGE sits at the head of the long conference table—dressed in a finely tailored black waistcoat, pocket watch chain gleaming. His demeanor is cool, polished, but never without a calculated twinkle of self-interest. A half-empty glass of sherry rests beside a meticulously kept leather portfolio. LADY MOLLY enters with the quiet confidence of a woman not easily impressed.
LADY MOLLY (gracefully taking a seat opposite him)
Mr. Scrooge. I do appreciate you making the time.
EBENEZER SCROOGE (smiling thinly)
Time is money, my dear Lady Molly. But I’ve always had a soft spot for the constabulary—particularly when they dress it up in class and curiosity.
LADY MOLLY (smiles politely)
I shall take that as a compliment. I’m sure you’re aware of the reason I’ve requested this meeting.
SCROOGE (fingertips steepled)
The tragic vanishing of the Misfit’s … waddling little mascot. Yes. Shocking stuff. And during a main event, no less. Terrible for morale. And merchandising.
LADY MOLLY
Your presence at Chill Factor that night has raised some questions. Particularly, as your official duties usually don’t involve live events.
SCROOGE
A fair observation. However, I was contacted—quite urgently, I might add—by Mr. Ace MacDougal. He needed assistance ensuring the validity of a title match contract between the Misfits and the Polar Bears. You know how chaotic these locker rooms can be. The paperwork is usually as organized as a polar bear picnic.
LADY MOLLY
And was the contract legitimate?
SCROOGE (smirks)
Oh, indeed. Once I’d reviewed it, of course. Can't have champions making excuses later, can we?
LADY MOLLY
You left shortly after that?
SCROOGE
I did. One look at the Misfits’ antics and the… what do you call it? Flippersmania? Yes. I felt my time could be better spent with the quarterly reports.
LADY MOLLY (turning a page in her notebook)
And your relationship with a certain Count Vlad?
SCROOGE (a brief pause—calculating)
Ah… Vlad. A friend. A man of… intense vision and peculiar tastes. But I find value in working with strong-willed individuals. He’s helped me connect with talent, as you’ve seen.
LADY MOLLY
A friend who sends rather… unconventional talent north to your company?
SCROOGE (chuckling)
My dear, in wrestling, “unconventional” is conventional. The more frightening the façade, the better the ticket sales. And as Special Advisor, I only want what’s best for business.
LADY MOLLY
I’m sure. Tell me—did you see anything unusual that night? Perhaps an unfamiliar face? Or someone acting… out of place?
SCROOGE (shrugging with theatrical indifference)
Unusual is relative. This is NPCW, after all. No, I was only there briefly, signed what I needed, and left. I saw MacDougal, a few wrestlers, even bumped into the Big Bad Wolf—I believe he was seeking a rematch. Persistent lad.
LADY MOLLY
He said you seemed distracted.
SCROOGE (eyebrows lift)
Did he now? Must’ve been the lighting. Or perhaps I was already halfway out the door in my mind. Business tends to consume one’s focus.
LADY MOLLY (pauses, lowers her pen)
And do you care about what happened to Flippers?
SCROOGE (leans back, hand to chin)
I care about the implications. Mascots move merchandise. Happy fans stay loyal. Champions with emotional stability keep the ratings up. So yes—purely from a business perspective—I'd like to see the penguin returned. Safe and squawking.
LADY MOLLY
I see. That will be all for now.
SCROOGE (standing slowly)
Of course. If you need anything else… I do so love a good mystery. Though I imagine the one you’re unraveling is far larger than just a missing bird.
LADY MOLLY (meeting his eyes evenly)
Perhaps. But even the smallest feathers can point to a hawk overhead.
SCROOGE (smirking as he exits)
Do let me know if I’m the hawk. I'd hate to be underdressed for the hunt.
Scrooge exits. Lady Molly watches him go with the faintest narrowing of her eyes. She picks up her pen again.
LADY MOLLY (softly to herself)
Charming. Deceptive. And absolutely hiding something.
Closing Scene – Lady Molly's Revelation
Setting: Late evening. Lady Molly’s office is dimly lit, save for the warm glow of a brass desk lamp. The desk is a sea of papers, photos, and folders arranged with precision. A storm whispers faintly outside, tapping rain against the frosted windowpane. Lady Molly sits at the center of the chaos, poised, focused—her detective’s eyes scanning every detail.
She pulls a leather-bound case file labeled: CASE #019 – “Operation: Snowbird”. Inside are her interview notes and evidence photos from the scene of Flippers’ disappearance.
The camera lingers over each image as Molly turns the pages with gloved fingertips:
A photo of the dressing room door, splintered outward. A handwritten note reads:
“Door jam unbroken?”
“Door smashed… after opening?”Close-up photo of a blood smear on the doorframe. A red marker circles it.
Label: Sample 1 – Blood trace. Species TBD.A muddy footprint on tile.
Label: Sample 2 – Boot size 13. Partial tread match.Images of overturned furniture—chairs splintered, but a table barely scratched.
Scribbled note:
“Some of this looks staged… broken but deliberate?”A clear fingerprint on a mirror.
Label: Sample 3 – Latent. Lifted clean.A small clump of coarse hair, grey and matted.
Label: Sample 4 – Animal or synthetic? DNA pending.
Lady Molly leans back in her chair, fingers steepled, deep in thought. The classical music playing on her phonograph fades out as a soft knock taps at the door.
LADY MOLLY (without looking up)
Enter.
The door creaks open, and in walks a young, enthusiastic elf in NPCW security blues. It’s Constable Noel Jinglemark, barely five feet tall, his cheeks flushed with excitement, a manila envelope in hand.
NOEL JINGLEMARK
Afternoon, Lady Molly. Got the lab results you requested.
LADY MOLLY (smiling with genuine warmth)
That was quick, Constable. I’m impressed.
NOEL (grinning proudly)
Well, ma’am… we all love Flippers. Everyone in the department pitched in. Even Officer Nutters worked through lunch.
LADY MOLLY (taking the envelope)
You may thank them all for me. I’ll see to it the penguin knows he’s got friends in high places… should he return to us.
She flips open the folder, eyes scanning the first few results. A slow, knowing smile curls on her lips.
LADY MOLLY (to herself)
Very interesting indeed…
She sets the envelope down and reaches beneath the desk for a new folder—this one marked with a bold black nameplate:
INTERVIEW SUBJECT #10 – ACE MACDOUGAL
A photo clipped to the front shows a jolly, disheveled man with a crooked bowtie, holding Flippers in one arm like a proud uncle at a christening. The smile is wide… perhaps too wide.
LADY MOLLY (whispers to herself, eyes narrowing)
Well… Mr. MacDougal…
It’s time to hear your story.
She taps the folder twice against her palm as the camera slowly pulls back, the shadows growing deeper behind her.
To Be Continued in Episode 004 – “Ace’s Story”
Go get em Lady Molly.
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