03-09-2021, 01:08 PM
03-13-2021, 12:21 PM
==========
February 27th, 2021
Bloomington, Minnesota
Off Camera
==========
“You have to be a special kind of bastard to wanna get your bloody ass kicked week in and week out for a living. So why do you wanna do this? What makes you wanna step into this ring and fight for a living?”
That was one of the first few questions Glenn Braddock would ask new students upon arrival at his wrestling school. The grizzled veteran knew he could be intimidating and he always used his intimidating presence to his advantage as he would always get in the faces of his new students and grill them, interrogate them to find out just what brought them to his doorstep. Why did they want to become a professional wrestler? Because for Glenn Braddock, wrestling was not just a job. It was not just a career. It definitely wasn’t about thrills and entertainment. For Glenn Braddock, professional wrestling was his life and he wanted to make sure that anyone who dared set foot into his life would respect it and uphold its values and principles the same way he did.
This lesson was not lost on his oldest daughter, “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. During her years in training and in her first few years as an active competitor, Glory Braddock knew exactly why she wanted to be a wrestler. She knew why she put her body on the line in this manner. But perhaps her success went to her head? Or perhaps it was due to the loss of her father, and thus the loss of his constant passionate voice in her ear that caused her to stumble? Whatever it was, The British Bombshell had lost her way. She had become lackadaisical and took too much for granted.
The last time she had any kind of fire in her eye was at Rise To Greatness when she defeated Peyton Rice to become the SCW Adrenaline Champion. Since that point it had been a series of failures; failure to capture the SCW World Championship at Apocalypse, losing the SCW Adrenaline Championship to Shilo Valiant at Last Grasp of Reality, losing to the Psychonauts in the semi-finals of the tag team league.
But Braddock has rediscovered her passion. She has rediscovered her motivation. That passion helped her defeat Asher Hayes and then dethrone Bree Lancaster to become SCW World Champion in the gauntlet match on Breakdown, even if it was for a few minutes. Braddock is now confident and ready to fix one of her previous mistakes and take back the SCW Adrenaline Championship from Shilo Valiant at Retribution.
And she has one person to thank: Fiona Osbourne.
Fiona is one of the models working for Kayla Jones’s modeling agency. Braddock’s company, now renamed Glorious Golden Enterprises, has acquired the modeling agency in an attempt to keep it afloat and branch out into modeling. It was Fiona’s passionate speech about her desire not to model for the rest of her life but to eventually train to become a professional wrestler. Many of her peers mocked Fiona but she ignores them, she continues to pursue her true passion. With those words and the passion in her voice Braddock was reminded of why she chose to follow in Glenn Braddock’s footsteps.
In short, her passion for the sport has returned. And that’s not all; along with the passion, another thing Glory Braddock has been missing out on is the reaction from the fans. She has always had a strong, solid fan base who backed her no matter what. Unfortunately Glory Braddock has been ignoring that fan base for far too long. Breakdown was two days ago but The British Bombshell decided to stick around in Minnesota for a scheduled autograph signing.
Autograph signings used to be something Glory Braddock detested. In her mind they just took away from her training and preparation time. But her fans have supported her through some of the most difficult times of her professional career, her fans have remained loyal even when she would betray her own principles and values. It is time she rewarded those loyal fans and gave back to the sport she loves.
We are inside of the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota. A simple brown table is set up and already there are throngs of people waiting to speak with the visitor, who happens to be none other than Glory Braddock herself. Several security personnel are standing in between the fans and the table. Behind the table we find Glory Braddock and her husband Kurt Logan. Braddock is wearing a black tight skirt, a white silk blouse, black patent leather high heel shoes, and a black leather jacket. Kurt is wearing sneakers, denim jeans, and a plain white button up shirt. Kurt has a grin on his face as he leans to whisper to his wife, hoping the fans do not hear him.
“So is it official?”
“Is what official?”
“Has hell frozen over?” Kurt asks with a smirk upon his face. Glory looks at him with obvious confusion written across her lovely features.
“What the hell do you mean, love?”
“Well I know how much you love these autograph signings.” The sarcasm in Kurt’s voice is clear and evident. Braddock just simply rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, mate.”
“Sorry, babe. I can’t help but tease you. Still, it is rather surprising to see you here doing this...willingly at that… usually companies you worked for would just about have to force you to do these.”
The blonde haired beauty lets a small chuckle escape her lips. “You’re right, and I won’t deny that a small part of me wishes I were in a gym somewhere getting ready to shove my foot up Shilo’s ass, but…” her voice trails off.
“But?”
“...but it is worth it. These fans are worth it.”
Kurt leans in and kisses his wife on the cheek. Just then a younger brown haired woman wearing a navy blue pantsuit and white button up blouse approaches the table. She holds out her hand to greet Kurt and Glory, both of whom accept the handshake.
“Hi, I’m Ruby and I work for the Mall of America. You must be Glory Braddock?”
“That’s right, mate. And this is my husband, Kurt Logan.”
“Nice to meet you Ruby.” Kurt says with a nod of his head.
“I am so glad you both are here for this. As you can see the fans are excited to see you.”
“I’m sure they are. So why keep them waiting any longer?”
“You sure?”
“Go on. Open the floodgates.”
Ruby smiles warmly as he walks away from the table and approaches the crowd of people. Kurt leans in to whisper into his wife’s ear. “You are a saint…”
“I know.”
Braddock and her husband turn their attention to Ruby, the Mall of America staff worker, who begins with her introductions.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out today to the Mall of America! Two nights ago Minneapolis hosted SCW Breakdown. Most of the SCW wrestlers have already moved on but at least one has decided to stick around for a few more days to greet you the fans right here at the Mall of America.”
The fans cheer loudly, many of them begin chants of ‘Glor-Y’ over and over again. Call it ego, call it whatever you want, but The British Bombshell will never grow tired of hearing this, as evidenced by the wide grin on her face as she soaks in the adoration of the fans waiting patiently to see her.
“Now Supreme Championship Wrestling, and the Mall of America, presents to you a fifteen time World Champion, ‘The British Bombshell’ Glory Braddock!”
Braddock stands up as the fans applaud, cheer, and continue to chant. She waves at the many fans in attendance, acknowledging their cheers. The blonde waits for the cheers to die down and when they do she addresses the crowd.
“I look out into you lot and I see so many fans; passionate, die hard, wrestling fans. Y’know, I used to be one of you once upon a time. I used to be just a wrestling fan. I would travel with my dad to every single one of his matches just to watch him compete. And I knew that he would win. I knew it not because he was my dad and I had to support him, even though that did play a big part of it. I knew it because I was a fan and he was amazing. Now what many of you may not know is that my dad was beaten only twice in his career. Once to a very young Andreas Lasiewicz and later to Thomas Van Stanton. That last time, the loss to Van Stanton, that match left him with a career ending back injury and forced him to retire. Can you imagine the emotional damage done to yours truly? My father was my hero, my idol, and I watched his career end before my very eyes. Do you know what that did to me though?” Braddock pauses as she gives the fans time to think about her question.
“It increased my passion for professional wrestling tenfold. Previously I had only joked about following in my father’s footsteps but I was never ever serious until that night of his last match. Not only did my passion for wrestling increase but I had new motivation; a motivation to continue my father’s legacy. He was a wrestler and he wanted to prove that he was the best. So that’s what I wanted to do; I wanted to become a wrestler and prove that I was the best. But proving that you are the best is a never ending journey. Furthermore it is a journey that you are destined to fail. For starters there will always be someone there to challenge your supremacy. And when you retire, someone will inevitably come after you who will top your achievements and accolades. So why bother?” Braddock shrugs her shoulders. “Because I’m a wrestler. That’s my life. That’s what I do.”
“Now some of you may have heard me make a bold declaration leading into the gauntlet match for the SCW World Championship a couple weeks ago on Breakdown. I said that if I did not become SCW World Champion then I would quit. I said I would leave SCW for good…” fans begin to boo, making it clear that they do not want Glory to leave. Braddock again pauses to let them think about it. A grin forms on her face.
“Don’t worry, I am not going anywhere!” The crowd cheers loudly. Braddock shakes her head. “Some on the SCW roster may want to see me gone but I am not leaving on their terms. I leave on my terms. And even though I did not win the gauntlet, I did make good on my promise to become SCW World Champion, even if it was for a few minutes. But that few minutes, that little taste, was enough of a taste to spark something deep inside my soul, something I have been missing for a long time, and that is a warrior’s drive to compete. So yes, I am sticking around! Besides, I have unfinished business with Shilo Valiant. He has my property and at Retribution I’m taking it back.”
The fans in attendance cheer again. Braddock smirks as she soaks in the adulation. “Now then, I’m pretty sure you lot didn’t come here to listen to me ramble on and on, now did you? So I’m gonna sit down and visit with as many of you as I can get to today. How’s that sound?”
Again the fans roar with approval. Glory Braddock returns to her seat at the table next to her husband Kurt. The security lets one of the fans through, the first is a young man in his early twenties. He is wearing denim jeans, sneakers, and a black SCW t-shirt. “Hi, Glory! I’m Jake!”
“Jake from State Farm?”
“Uh...no?” Jake seems genuinely confused at Glory’s attempt at humor. Braddock just chuckles.
“Sorry, I’m terrible at comedy.”
“Oh, uh, no prob. Can you sign um…” he fumbles around in his pockets but quickly realizes he forgot something “...forgot my Glory Braddock Trading Card!”
“They still make those?!”
“Yep. But I left it at home. Damn.” He thinks quickly and looks at his arm. “Would you sign my arm?”
“Sure.” Glory takes a black marker and presses it against his flesh, writing her name on his arm. “There.”
“Awesome! I’m never washing this arm again!”
“Not advisable mate!” Glory says as Jake hurriedly walks away. Kurt and Glory both get a bit of a laugh out of that as the next individual steps forward; this time it is a young black haired Philipino female.
“I’m Cheryl.”
“Nice to meet you Cheryl.” Glory says, accepting the photo Cheryl presents to her; it is a photo of Glory Braddock posing in her wrestling gear and holding the SCW Adrenaline Championship title belt. Braddock looks down at it and smirks. “Hopefully I’ll have that back again.”
“I’m cheering for you.”
“Thanks, mate.” Glory signs the photo and then hands it back to Cheryl. Braddock looks up towards the line of fans to see who is coming next. Her eyes grow wide with what she sees...or rather WHO it is that she sees. He is dressed far more casually in khakis and a navy blue polo shirt, but the arrogant facial expression is unmistakable; this is Ronald Duane Kennedy.
“Oh my God! Or OMG as the kids say today!” The arrogant RDK says as he strides over towards the table. “I am in awe! I am actually getting to visit the great Glory Braddock!”
“RDK?!” Glory exclaims angrily. “What the bloody hell do you want?!”
“What? I thought you enjoyed being with your fans? I mean, you seemed to eat it up earlier when you were giving that inspiring speech.” RDK stops right in front of the table and winks at Braddock. “Looking good, by the way.”
“What do you want?”
“I already told you. I am a fan of your work, not as a wrestler but as a cutthroat businesswoman. I mean, I had that modeling deal wrapped up. Me and Francis were going to make serious money off of that piece of crap your cousin owns. But then you managed to steal the agency right out from under my nose. And I applaud you for that.” RDK gives a sarcastic, mock applause for Glory Braddock.
“I did not steal anything. You were the one with designs to steal, you were going to steal it from Kayla. But I’m not like you, I wanted to help her and so I did.”
“All you did was put her on life support. Her agency will die, even if it is under your company’s banner, and you wanna know why? Because I am going to be the one to kill it.”
“If you mean those rumors you’ve been spreading amongst the models…”
“Oh those ‘rumors’ are very much the truth. You see, I told you that I was a fan. In fact, you inspired me to start my own modeling agency. My own agency with MY vision at the helm. And yes, thanks to some convincing many of your models are leaving for my new agency. Eventually we’ll put you out of business, Braddock.”
“Are you threatening my wife?” Kurt asks sternly. “This is an autograph signing, Kennedy. You are obviously not a fan so you should just leave.”
“I know this is an autograph signing and I am a fan of your wife’s. You know your wife, Glory Braddock, the only successful one in the family? She is a successful wrestler, successful businesswoman, and you…” RDK smirks knowingly “...you are a retired hack of a professional wrestler who barely did anything noteworthy. Glory here is busy taking on the world while you play Mr. Mom.”
Kurt is agitated now, and it shows with the angry glare on his face. He stands up and gets in RDK’s face. Glory is nervous now, concerned at what may happen. Unfortunately, RDK is not done provoking Kurt.
“As a matter of fact, looking at you right now it is painfully obvious that Glory’s only failure is in her choice of men. You are a pathetic loser in life, Kurt. Maybe Glory should dump you and hook up with a real man like RDK?”
Kurt has had enough. His anger boils over to the point where it cannot be contained any longer. Kurt rears back and throws a right hand, which connects to the jaw of Ronald Kennedy, knocking him to the ground. The British Bombshell for her part was worried about the escalating tensions but she was not expecting this. RDK scrambles back to his feet and starts laughing, despite the stinging pain in his jaw.
“You are so easily played, Kurt. Now…” he points a finger at Kurt “...now I’m going to sue you for everything you and that bitch of a wife of yours has!”
Kurt attempts to lunge forward again but this time he is held back by security who flocks over. RDK is also taken away by security. Glory watches RDK being escorted away. She sighs and shakes her head.
“Kurt...why did you do that?”
“I’m sorry, Glory, but what did you want me to do?”
“I expected you not to strike him in public. He’s going to file assault charges and sue us. This is the last thing we need right now, especially now that he’s made it clear that he’s going to be competing against us.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
One of the security guards firmly pulls on Kurt’s arm. “Come with us, Mr. Logan.”
Kurt sighs and nods his head, walking away with the security guards. Glory Braddock bows her head, ashamed of what happened, and worried about what will happen next.
==========
March 2nd, 2021
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
==========
It has been several days since Kurt Logan lost his cool and punched the arrogant overbearing wannabe businessman Ronald Duane Kennedy at an autograph signing at the Mall of America in Minnesota. One cannot argue that RDK didn’t have it coming. He was working for Kayla Jones, Glory’s cousin, in her modeling agency as part of finance but he was later found to be secretly sabotaging the agency hoping that when Braddock’s company bought it out, he would be named as the new head of the agency. RDK has also been provoking the pair behind the scenes, politically, using his sleazy charm and tactics akin to those used by a snake oil salesman or a used car salesman to try and pick off models that were working with Glory and Kayla, convincing them to work with RDK instead, all to get revenge against Braddock and Jones for forcing him out of the agency. The autograph signing was his opportunity. He had been trying to provoke “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock for much of the time and when that didn’t work he turned his attention to Kurt Logan and provoked him. Tensions and emotions between RDK and Glory were already peaking. But things have boiled over now that Kurt Logan assaulted him in public, in front of many witnesses.
This presents two concerns for The British Bombshell; first, and most obvious, is will her husband Kurt face criminal assault charges? Kennedy is certainly within his legal right to ask for charges to be filed against Kurt. Secondly, will Kurt and Glory face any lawsuit stemming from the incident? Kennedy threatened a lawsuit but then again, it was just one punch. Technically that may be an assault but how much could Kennedy expect to get from that? All of those legal questions will be answered by Glory and Kurt’s attorney, Bob Odom, as they meet with him today in Miami. But the third concern Braddock faces is the one that troubles her the most: how will this incident impact their reputation?
Glory Braddock has tried to grow and mature away from being someone overly concerned with their reputation. But in this case, Glory isn’t concerned with her reputation for selfish reasons. She is worried that her damaged reputation could lead to further damage being done to the modeling agency she just acquired. Braddock is certain that this was the end game all along for RDK. He wanted a way to make the models and other staff at the modeling agency doubt the leadership of Glory Braddock and her cousin Kayla and thus leave them. Kennedy wanted to be the one who ran the modeling agency but Glory refused to keep him on board. Now RDK has decided that if he can’t have the agency then he will just destroy it himself by any means necessary.
Braddock’s office in Miami, Florida is typically clean as a whistle and organized, due in large part to the fact that she is rarely in the office. She tries to let her company president, Francis Taylor, handle the day to day operations. Today is different. Glory Braddock is facing a crisis that only she can handle, for she is the head of the company and she, along with Kurt Logan, are facing potential assault charges and a lawsuit from Ronald D. Kennedy. Thus the office is in disarray, looking like a disorganized mess.
In another unusual change of pace, Glory Braddock isn’t dressed for the corporate life. Whenever she is in the office she dresses the part; but today she is sitting at her desk wearing a pair of denim jeans, flip flops, and a purple blouse. Kurt sits next to her wearing khaki shorts and a tropical themed t-shirt. Sitting across from them is their family attorney, Robert Odom. The grey haired attorney is dressed in khaki pants, a white button up short, and a navy blue blazer.
“Thanks for helping us on such short notice, Bob.” Glory says to the elderly attorney. Odom nods his head, acknowledging The British Bombshell.
“It isn’t a problem, Ms. Braddock.”
“I should be the one thanking you.” Kurt says with a note of frustration in his voice. “I’m the one responsible for this crap.”
“It isn’t your fault, Kurt. Kennedy provoked you.”
“Yeah, I know. But the fact that he played me like a god damn fiddle is what pisses me off.” Kurt shakes his head and sighs in disgust, disgust with himself mostly. “I can’t believe I let him sucker me into that, one of the oldest tricks in the book.”
Braddock reaches out and pats her husband gently on the shoulder. “It’s ok, love. We’ll get it sorted out, ok?” Braddock turns and looks questioningly at the attorney. “We CAN get this sorted out? Right?”
“I did try to reach out to Mr. Kennedy himself but I was forwarded to his attorney, a woman by the name of Connie Josey.”
“What did she have to say?”
“The good news that Mr. Kennedy does not wish to press any criminal charges against Mr. Logan.”
“Well that’s good.” Glory says with a sigh of relief.
“However, they are prepared to go on with a civil suit if we do not settle.”
“How much do they want?” Glory asks, arching her brow curiously.
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Five grand?!” Kurt exclaims, rising from his chair and pacing the floor like an angry lion, with an enraged look on his face. “Five hundred thousand for one damn punch to the face?!”
“Yes.”
“We’re not paying!” Kurt shouts angrily, shaking his head furiously. For Glory, watching her husband with understandable concern, it almost seems like flames were shooting out of Kurt’s head. “This is outrageous!”
“Of course it is, love, but losing your temper isn’t helping matters.” Braddock remarks in a calm tone, hoping her husband will take the cue and also calm down. “Kennedy had it coming, but you know he wants to provoke you so he can use this against us.”
Kurt finally realizes that his wife is right. He sighs deeply out of frustration before sitting back down. “Yeah...you wanted to take on this modeling agency for Kayla, you wanted to help her out and now because I allowed myself to get manipulated by RDK, because I lost my temper, he’s going to try and take us for everything we have.”
“I seriously doubt he will get everything he is asking for, Mr. Logan.” The gray haired attorney remarks. “Five hundred thousand for a, as you said, one simple punch to the jaw is outrageous. Any judge worth their salt should see this for what it really is.”
“So do you think a judge might drop the case altogether?” Braddock asks hopefully. Odom shrugs his shoulders.
“That’s a different question entirely. If you were to ask my unbiased opinion of the matter, Mr. Logan did technically ‘assault’ Mr. Kennedy. Is Ms. Kennedy entitled to compensation? Perhaps, but how much? For one punch to the jaw I doubt a judge would give him very much.”
The British Bombshell looks very frustrated at this answer, as it was not the one she was hoping for. “That’s good I suppose. But you know damn well that Kennedy will use this as bad publicity against our company. I doubt RDK really cares much about the five hundred grand. He probably just wants to use this as another way to run down the company.”
“Fiona and Kayla did say that he was trying to convince the other models to leave the agency and sign with him, right?” Kurt asks. Glory nods her head.
“Unfortunately that is exactly what the bloke is doing. And now after this incident, he will have another example of why the models should leave. He doesn’t intend to ruin us by taking our money or beating us in court, he wants to ruin us by destroying our public image and reputation.”
Kurt shakes his head as further guilt washes over him. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, Glory. I just couldn’t stand there and take it anymore. I…”
“It isn’t your fault, love. To be honest, I probably would have done the same thing.” The British Bombshell leans over and plants a gentle kiss on her husband’s cheek. Braddock then turns back to face her attorney.
“So what do you think, Bob? How would you recommend we proceed with this?”
“If I am perfectly honest with you, I think you are actually in a better situation than you may believe. Grant there is nothing much I can help you with regarding you reputation or public image, but legally there is nothing Mr. Kennedy or his attorney can do. A judge would have to be out of their mind to award him five hundred thousand dollars worth of damages for one punch. I believe I can convince a judge that this suit is a waste of time. If you wish I can reach out one final time to Ms. Josey and try to convince her that her client is unlikely to get what he wants out of this lawsuit. Surely she knows this as well as I do and hopefully she can convince him to ask for a smaller settlement, if not withdraw the suit in its entirety.”
“And if you can’t talk them down?”
“Like I said, I believe we can win in court if necessary.” Odom says with a grin that is rare from the gray haired attorney. Braddock is satisfied with this answer and nods her head.
“Sounds good, mate. Make it so.”
“Very well then.” Robert Odom rises up out of his chair. “In that case, I will take my leave. I am sure you and Mr. Logan have a few more things to discuss. I will return to my law office and make some calls to Kennedy’s attorney.”
“Thank you, Bob.” Glory says. Odom nods in acknowledgement before turning and walking away. He opens the door and exits the office, shutting the door behind him. Once he is gone Kurt again sighs deeply out of frustration. Braddock can tell that guilt is still overwhelming her husband as she reaches out and clasps his hand tightly.
“What is it Kurt?”
“That bastard RDK had it coming.” He shakes his head. “But this is on me. I let him pull my strings, I let him provoke me, and now he’s using this as an attempt to run us into the ground.”
“No, he isn’t trying to run us into the ground.” Braddock says, shaking her head. “He doesn’t even care about you. He’s just using you to get to me.”
“And that’s why this is my fault. I lost my cool and because of that I gave him the perfect way to run your name and your reputation through the mud. I’m sorry.”
“I already told you that you have nothing to apologize for; you punched him in the mouth, but anyone with pride and dignity would have done the same damn thing in your position. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and yes, of course we wish we could take it back but we can’t. What’s done is done and now we just have to fight this. And you heard what Bob said, legally we are in a very good situation.”
“Yeah, legally we’re going to be fine, but you know he’s going to use this to damage the reputation of your company and to further damage the reputation of the modeling agency you just purchased. He’s already been in the ear of some models, trying to convince them to leave. He’ll use this to convince more models to leave your agency. All of the money in the world and the corporate backing your company provides will be worth nothing to your agency if there are no models.”
“I know that Kurt, I realize that RDK will be bringing the fight to us but I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to keep the dream alive. Modeling has never been anything I ever really cared much about, but it is something my cousin Kayla cares about, so I want to fight to keep her dream alive. Fiona also wants to use modeling as a springboard into her real dream, the dream of becoming a wrestler. I want to help her dreams come true. People like Kayla and Fiona, they are passionate about their dreams and will fight for their dreams. And I’m not going to give up on them, Kurt. So yes, we will fight this, and we will fight anything else RDK is prepared to throw at us. And we will win. By hook or by crook, we will win.”
Kurt had been upset, angry, and depressed ever since arriving here today for what he knew would be a tense meeting about his newfound legal problems after he assaulted Ronald Duane Kennedy. But now, for the first time all day, Kurt Logan sports a genuine grin as he gazes deep into the passionate eyes of his lovely wife. He and Glory lean in and kiss passionately on the lips. As for Glory Braddock herself, she knows that the coming fight with RDK may prove challenging but this is a challenge she has to endure. Too many people depend upon her, people such as her cousin Kayla Jones and model Fiona Osbourne. Their dreams may very well hinge upon Glory Braddock’s success in fending off RDK. And Glory Braddock, at her very best, is someone who not only fights for what is right but fights out of passion and for her dreams.
==========
March 13th, 2021
Dallas, Texas
On Camera
==========
We open inside of the American Airlines Center in Dallas, Texas. This grand building will soon be full of professional wrestling fans ready for the spectacle that is SCW Retribution. Currently it sits quiet, empty, and almost desolate. Preparations have been made for tomorrow’s event; signs and banners advertising the event are hanging high in the air, the stage is set up as is an entrance ramp, and there is a wrestling ring in the center. The camera pans around to get a good look at the entire setting until it comes a shot at the entrance. Then we spot “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. The former fifteen time world champion is dressed in tight fitting denim jeans, black boots, and a royal purple silk blouse. Her long blonde hair hangs straight and unrestrained to past the shoulders.
“We’re here in Dallas Texas, the American Airlines Center, and tomorrow night twenty thousand plus will be crammed into this place.” She motions to the many seats, from the front row, to the middle sections, all the way up to the nosebleed sections and even the luxury skyboxes reserved for the rich. “Most of that twenty thousand plus will be here, in these seats. They have bought a ticket for a show whose roots go back as old as human history itself.”
“Roman Emperors would host gladiatorial games pitting gladiators against wild animals and gladiators against other gladiators, all for the entertainment of the Roman masses watching safely from their seats in the coliseum. Emperors loved to do this because it was a sure fire way to endear themselves to the public during times of upheaval or unrest. The people would forget about whatever problem the empire was facing, they would forgive any crime committed by the Emperor, all because of the love they had for the games. All they desired out of these games was entertainment.”
Braddock begins a steady, determined march down the entrance ramp, heading towards the ring. As she approaches the squared circle she motions towards it “But if you ask the gladiators themselves, if you ask the warriors who went to battle, putting their own lives on the line, this wasn’t about entertainment. The gladiators weren’t so shallow that entertainment was the singular reason they did this; these games, this was their lives. It was their livelihood. These gladiators who did battle in the confines of the coliseum were defined by their performance in the games. It was about being the best, being the strongest, being the most worthy of all gladiators.”
The British Bombshell rounds a corner and approaches the steel steps. She ascends the steps and then steps onto the ring apron. Braddock steps through the ropes and into the ring. She stands in the center of the ring. “And that very divide between Roman and gladiator is what separates you and me, Shilo. You came back to SCW and why? Because they hurt your pathetic ego when they wouldn’t recognize your so-called reputation? I’m not so sure about that because you shouldn’t have had to worry about your reputation. You were a Supreme Champion. You’ve done it all here in SCW and there was nothing for you to prove. Not a damn thing. So reputation? No, that’s not it. You drug your sorry ass out of bed and returned to SCW because you were bored. At least that’s what you tell everyone.”
“Whether it was Blackbourne, me, or whoever you happened to cross paths with, whoever was willing to listen to your mindless prattling, you told them that this was about entertaining yourself. Entertainment, is it?” Braddock’s face turns into a fierce and angry sneer. She is glaring hatred into the camera. “If you’re doing this just to be entertained, if you’re doing this because you’re bored and you got nothing better to do, then quit. Just quit, take your ego with you, because the men and the women on the SCW roster, the gladiators who come to this ring week in and week out busting their asses for this business, for this SPORT, they don’t want you here and they don’t need you here.”
“And as for me? Well you’re pissing me the fuck off because you are disrespecting the sport of professional wrestling. You are spitting upon a legacy of combat that has been around far longer than your pathetic little ass. But that’s fine, wrestling will outlive you and your precious little reputation. This great sport will still exist long after the name Shilo Valiant has become a distant memory. So continue to make a mockery of this sport that I love, because you are digging your own grave.”
“This isn’t about entertainment, you damn fool. This is about competition. This is WRESTLING and WRESTLING is what I do best. The fans who watched my father compete called him Britain’s Best, because in their eyes there was no better wrestler than Glenn Braddock. And there are many fans who call me the Best in the World because in their eyes there are few wrestlers who can measure up to me. And you know that as well as I do. Now I make no excuses for what happened at Last Grasp, you became Adrenaline Champion, but you cannot deny the fact that I did all the heavy lifting. I kicked your ass, I kicked Dylan Howell’s ass, and I was on my way to retaining the title. You merely took advantage of my work. Just further shows how pathetic you have become, Shilo.”
“This time at Retribution it will be one on one. No Dylan Howell to get in the way. Just you and one of the all time best wrestlers walking god’s green earth. And I can say that with confidence knowing it is true, and I can say with confidence that at Retribution I will make you remember that professional wrestling is not some game, it isn’t about your entertainment, it is a competition. It is a sport, a sport that you have made a mockery of. And I will make you pay for that mockery.”
Braddock points out to the empty seats. “If you want to be entertained by a god damn ticket! If you want to be entertained watch a fucking movie! But if you step through those ropes and enter this ring you become a gladiator. And do you know what happened to gladiators during the time of the Roman Empire, Shilo? Well, they definitely took their combat far more seriously than you, because for them it truly was life or death. With few rare exceptions, it was a fight to the death. You either won or you died. So if you choose to step into this ring and face me as the clown that you are, then I can guarantee you that I will either humble you and make you give up or I will choke your ass out. Either way, at Retribution I am coming to reclaim the SCW Adrenaline Championship.”
Braddock shuts her eyes. “Sic Semper Tyrannis…”
February 27th, 2021
Bloomington, Minnesota
Off Camera
==========
“You have to be a special kind of bastard to wanna get your bloody ass kicked week in and week out for a living. So why do you wanna do this? What makes you wanna step into this ring and fight for a living?”
That was one of the first few questions Glenn Braddock would ask new students upon arrival at his wrestling school. The grizzled veteran knew he could be intimidating and he always used his intimidating presence to his advantage as he would always get in the faces of his new students and grill them, interrogate them to find out just what brought them to his doorstep. Why did they want to become a professional wrestler? Because for Glenn Braddock, wrestling was not just a job. It was not just a career. It definitely wasn’t about thrills and entertainment. For Glenn Braddock, professional wrestling was his life and he wanted to make sure that anyone who dared set foot into his life would respect it and uphold its values and principles the same way he did.
This lesson was not lost on his oldest daughter, “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. During her years in training and in her first few years as an active competitor, Glory Braddock knew exactly why she wanted to be a wrestler. She knew why she put her body on the line in this manner. But perhaps her success went to her head? Or perhaps it was due to the loss of her father, and thus the loss of his constant passionate voice in her ear that caused her to stumble? Whatever it was, The British Bombshell had lost her way. She had become lackadaisical and took too much for granted.
The last time she had any kind of fire in her eye was at Rise To Greatness when she defeated Peyton Rice to become the SCW Adrenaline Champion. Since that point it had been a series of failures; failure to capture the SCW World Championship at Apocalypse, losing the SCW Adrenaline Championship to Shilo Valiant at Last Grasp of Reality, losing to the Psychonauts in the semi-finals of the tag team league.
But Braddock has rediscovered her passion. She has rediscovered her motivation. That passion helped her defeat Asher Hayes and then dethrone Bree Lancaster to become SCW World Champion in the gauntlet match on Breakdown, even if it was for a few minutes. Braddock is now confident and ready to fix one of her previous mistakes and take back the SCW Adrenaline Championship from Shilo Valiant at Retribution.
And she has one person to thank: Fiona Osbourne.
Fiona is one of the models working for Kayla Jones’s modeling agency. Braddock’s company, now renamed Glorious Golden Enterprises, has acquired the modeling agency in an attempt to keep it afloat and branch out into modeling. It was Fiona’s passionate speech about her desire not to model for the rest of her life but to eventually train to become a professional wrestler. Many of her peers mocked Fiona but she ignores them, she continues to pursue her true passion. With those words and the passion in her voice Braddock was reminded of why she chose to follow in Glenn Braddock’s footsteps.
In short, her passion for the sport has returned. And that’s not all; along with the passion, another thing Glory Braddock has been missing out on is the reaction from the fans. She has always had a strong, solid fan base who backed her no matter what. Unfortunately Glory Braddock has been ignoring that fan base for far too long. Breakdown was two days ago but The British Bombshell decided to stick around in Minnesota for a scheduled autograph signing.
Autograph signings used to be something Glory Braddock detested. In her mind they just took away from her training and preparation time. But her fans have supported her through some of the most difficult times of her professional career, her fans have remained loyal even when she would betray her own principles and values. It is time she rewarded those loyal fans and gave back to the sport she loves.
We are inside of the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota. A simple brown table is set up and already there are throngs of people waiting to speak with the visitor, who happens to be none other than Glory Braddock herself. Several security personnel are standing in between the fans and the table. Behind the table we find Glory Braddock and her husband Kurt Logan. Braddock is wearing a black tight skirt, a white silk blouse, black patent leather high heel shoes, and a black leather jacket. Kurt is wearing sneakers, denim jeans, and a plain white button up shirt. Kurt has a grin on his face as he leans to whisper to his wife, hoping the fans do not hear him.
“So is it official?”
“Is what official?”
“Has hell frozen over?” Kurt asks with a smirk upon his face. Glory looks at him with obvious confusion written across her lovely features.
“What the hell do you mean, love?”
“Well I know how much you love these autograph signings.” The sarcasm in Kurt’s voice is clear and evident. Braddock just simply rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, mate.”
“Sorry, babe. I can’t help but tease you. Still, it is rather surprising to see you here doing this...willingly at that… usually companies you worked for would just about have to force you to do these.”
The blonde haired beauty lets a small chuckle escape her lips. “You’re right, and I won’t deny that a small part of me wishes I were in a gym somewhere getting ready to shove my foot up Shilo’s ass, but…” her voice trails off.
“But?”
“...but it is worth it. These fans are worth it.”
Kurt leans in and kisses his wife on the cheek. Just then a younger brown haired woman wearing a navy blue pantsuit and white button up blouse approaches the table. She holds out her hand to greet Kurt and Glory, both of whom accept the handshake.
“Hi, I’m Ruby and I work for the Mall of America. You must be Glory Braddock?”
“That’s right, mate. And this is my husband, Kurt Logan.”
“Nice to meet you Ruby.” Kurt says with a nod of his head.
“I am so glad you both are here for this. As you can see the fans are excited to see you.”
“I’m sure they are. So why keep them waiting any longer?”
“You sure?”
“Go on. Open the floodgates.”
Ruby smiles warmly as he walks away from the table and approaches the crowd of people. Kurt leans in to whisper into his wife’s ear. “You are a saint…”
“I know.”
Braddock and her husband turn their attention to Ruby, the Mall of America staff worker, who begins with her introductions.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out today to the Mall of America! Two nights ago Minneapolis hosted SCW Breakdown. Most of the SCW wrestlers have already moved on but at least one has decided to stick around for a few more days to greet you the fans right here at the Mall of America.”
The fans cheer loudly, many of them begin chants of ‘Glor-Y’ over and over again. Call it ego, call it whatever you want, but The British Bombshell will never grow tired of hearing this, as evidenced by the wide grin on her face as she soaks in the adoration of the fans waiting patiently to see her.
“Now Supreme Championship Wrestling, and the Mall of America, presents to you a fifteen time World Champion, ‘The British Bombshell’ Glory Braddock!”
Braddock stands up as the fans applaud, cheer, and continue to chant. She waves at the many fans in attendance, acknowledging their cheers. The blonde waits for the cheers to die down and when they do she addresses the crowd.
“I look out into you lot and I see so many fans; passionate, die hard, wrestling fans. Y’know, I used to be one of you once upon a time. I used to be just a wrestling fan. I would travel with my dad to every single one of his matches just to watch him compete. And I knew that he would win. I knew it not because he was my dad and I had to support him, even though that did play a big part of it. I knew it because I was a fan and he was amazing. Now what many of you may not know is that my dad was beaten only twice in his career. Once to a very young Andreas Lasiewicz and later to Thomas Van Stanton. That last time, the loss to Van Stanton, that match left him with a career ending back injury and forced him to retire. Can you imagine the emotional damage done to yours truly? My father was my hero, my idol, and I watched his career end before my very eyes. Do you know what that did to me though?” Braddock pauses as she gives the fans time to think about her question.
“It increased my passion for professional wrestling tenfold. Previously I had only joked about following in my father’s footsteps but I was never ever serious until that night of his last match. Not only did my passion for wrestling increase but I had new motivation; a motivation to continue my father’s legacy. He was a wrestler and he wanted to prove that he was the best. So that’s what I wanted to do; I wanted to become a wrestler and prove that I was the best. But proving that you are the best is a never ending journey. Furthermore it is a journey that you are destined to fail. For starters there will always be someone there to challenge your supremacy. And when you retire, someone will inevitably come after you who will top your achievements and accolades. So why bother?” Braddock shrugs her shoulders. “Because I’m a wrestler. That’s my life. That’s what I do.”
“Now some of you may have heard me make a bold declaration leading into the gauntlet match for the SCW World Championship a couple weeks ago on Breakdown. I said that if I did not become SCW World Champion then I would quit. I said I would leave SCW for good…” fans begin to boo, making it clear that they do not want Glory to leave. Braddock again pauses to let them think about it. A grin forms on her face.
“Don’t worry, I am not going anywhere!” The crowd cheers loudly. Braddock shakes her head. “Some on the SCW roster may want to see me gone but I am not leaving on their terms. I leave on my terms. And even though I did not win the gauntlet, I did make good on my promise to become SCW World Champion, even if it was for a few minutes. But that few minutes, that little taste, was enough of a taste to spark something deep inside my soul, something I have been missing for a long time, and that is a warrior’s drive to compete. So yes, I am sticking around! Besides, I have unfinished business with Shilo Valiant. He has my property and at Retribution I’m taking it back.”
The fans in attendance cheer again. Braddock smirks as she soaks in the adulation. “Now then, I’m pretty sure you lot didn’t come here to listen to me ramble on and on, now did you? So I’m gonna sit down and visit with as many of you as I can get to today. How’s that sound?”
Again the fans roar with approval. Glory Braddock returns to her seat at the table next to her husband Kurt. The security lets one of the fans through, the first is a young man in his early twenties. He is wearing denim jeans, sneakers, and a black SCW t-shirt. “Hi, Glory! I’m Jake!”
“Jake from State Farm?”
“Uh...no?” Jake seems genuinely confused at Glory’s attempt at humor. Braddock just chuckles.
“Sorry, I’m terrible at comedy.”
“Oh, uh, no prob. Can you sign um…” he fumbles around in his pockets but quickly realizes he forgot something “...forgot my Glory Braddock Trading Card!”
“They still make those?!”
“Yep. But I left it at home. Damn.” He thinks quickly and looks at his arm. “Would you sign my arm?”
“Sure.” Glory takes a black marker and presses it against his flesh, writing her name on his arm. “There.”
“Awesome! I’m never washing this arm again!”
“Not advisable mate!” Glory says as Jake hurriedly walks away. Kurt and Glory both get a bit of a laugh out of that as the next individual steps forward; this time it is a young black haired Philipino female.
“I’m Cheryl.”
“Nice to meet you Cheryl.” Glory says, accepting the photo Cheryl presents to her; it is a photo of Glory Braddock posing in her wrestling gear and holding the SCW Adrenaline Championship title belt. Braddock looks down at it and smirks. “Hopefully I’ll have that back again.”
“I’m cheering for you.”
“Thanks, mate.” Glory signs the photo and then hands it back to Cheryl. Braddock looks up towards the line of fans to see who is coming next. Her eyes grow wide with what she sees...or rather WHO it is that she sees. He is dressed far more casually in khakis and a navy blue polo shirt, but the arrogant facial expression is unmistakable; this is Ronald Duane Kennedy.
“Oh my God! Or OMG as the kids say today!” The arrogant RDK says as he strides over towards the table. “I am in awe! I am actually getting to visit the great Glory Braddock!”
“RDK?!” Glory exclaims angrily. “What the bloody hell do you want?!”
“What? I thought you enjoyed being with your fans? I mean, you seemed to eat it up earlier when you were giving that inspiring speech.” RDK stops right in front of the table and winks at Braddock. “Looking good, by the way.”
“What do you want?”
“I already told you. I am a fan of your work, not as a wrestler but as a cutthroat businesswoman. I mean, I had that modeling deal wrapped up. Me and Francis were going to make serious money off of that piece of crap your cousin owns. But then you managed to steal the agency right out from under my nose. And I applaud you for that.” RDK gives a sarcastic, mock applause for Glory Braddock.
“I did not steal anything. You were the one with designs to steal, you were going to steal it from Kayla. But I’m not like you, I wanted to help her and so I did.”
“All you did was put her on life support. Her agency will die, even if it is under your company’s banner, and you wanna know why? Because I am going to be the one to kill it.”
“If you mean those rumors you’ve been spreading amongst the models…”
“Oh those ‘rumors’ are very much the truth. You see, I told you that I was a fan. In fact, you inspired me to start my own modeling agency. My own agency with MY vision at the helm. And yes, thanks to some convincing many of your models are leaving for my new agency. Eventually we’ll put you out of business, Braddock.”
“Are you threatening my wife?” Kurt asks sternly. “This is an autograph signing, Kennedy. You are obviously not a fan so you should just leave.”
“I know this is an autograph signing and I am a fan of your wife’s. You know your wife, Glory Braddock, the only successful one in the family? She is a successful wrestler, successful businesswoman, and you…” RDK smirks knowingly “...you are a retired hack of a professional wrestler who barely did anything noteworthy. Glory here is busy taking on the world while you play Mr. Mom.”
Kurt is agitated now, and it shows with the angry glare on his face. He stands up and gets in RDK’s face. Glory is nervous now, concerned at what may happen. Unfortunately, RDK is not done provoking Kurt.
“As a matter of fact, looking at you right now it is painfully obvious that Glory’s only failure is in her choice of men. You are a pathetic loser in life, Kurt. Maybe Glory should dump you and hook up with a real man like RDK?”
Kurt has had enough. His anger boils over to the point where it cannot be contained any longer. Kurt rears back and throws a right hand, which connects to the jaw of Ronald Kennedy, knocking him to the ground. The British Bombshell for her part was worried about the escalating tensions but she was not expecting this. RDK scrambles back to his feet and starts laughing, despite the stinging pain in his jaw.
“You are so easily played, Kurt. Now…” he points a finger at Kurt “...now I’m going to sue you for everything you and that bitch of a wife of yours has!”
Kurt attempts to lunge forward again but this time he is held back by security who flocks over. RDK is also taken away by security. Glory watches RDK being escorted away. She sighs and shakes her head.
“Kurt...why did you do that?”
“I’m sorry, Glory, but what did you want me to do?”
“I expected you not to strike him in public. He’s going to file assault charges and sue us. This is the last thing we need right now, especially now that he’s made it clear that he’s going to be competing against us.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
One of the security guards firmly pulls on Kurt’s arm. “Come with us, Mr. Logan.”
Kurt sighs and nods his head, walking away with the security guards. Glory Braddock bows her head, ashamed of what happened, and worried about what will happen next.
==========
March 2nd, 2021
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
==========
It has been several days since Kurt Logan lost his cool and punched the arrogant overbearing wannabe businessman Ronald Duane Kennedy at an autograph signing at the Mall of America in Minnesota. One cannot argue that RDK didn’t have it coming. He was working for Kayla Jones, Glory’s cousin, in her modeling agency as part of finance but he was later found to be secretly sabotaging the agency hoping that when Braddock’s company bought it out, he would be named as the new head of the agency. RDK has also been provoking the pair behind the scenes, politically, using his sleazy charm and tactics akin to those used by a snake oil salesman or a used car salesman to try and pick off models that were working with Glory and Kayla, convincing them to work with RDK instead, all to get revenge against Braddock and Jones for forcing him out of the agency. The autograph signing was his opportunity. He had been trying to provoke “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock for much of the time and when that didn’t work he turned his attention to Kurt Logan and provoked him. Tensions and emotions between RDK and Glory were already peaking. But things have boiled over now that Kurt Logan assaulted him in public, in front of many witnesses.
This presents two concerns for The British Bombshell; first, and most obvious, is will her husband Kurt face criminal assault charges? Kennedy is certainly within his legal right to ask for charges to be filed against Kurt. Secondly, will Kurt and Glory face any lawsuit stemming from the incident? Kennedy threatened a lawsuit but then again, it was just one punch. Technically that may be an assault but how much could Kennedy expect to get from that? All of those legal questions will be answered by Glory and Kurt’s attorney, Bob Odom, as they meet with him today in Miami. But the third concern Braddock faces is the one that troubles her the most: how will this incident impact their reputation?
Glory Braddock has tried to grow and mature away from being someone overly concerned with their reputation. But in this case, Glory isn’t concerned with her reputation for selfish reasons. She is worried that her damaged reputation could lead to further damage being done to the modeling agency she just acquired. Braddock is certain that this was the end game all along for RDK. He wanted a way to make the models and other staff at the modeling agency doubt the leadership of Glory Braddock and her cousin Kayla and thus leave them. Kennedy wanted to be the one who ran the modeling agency but Glory refused to keep him on board. Now RDK has decided that if he can’t have the agency then he will just destroy it himself by any means necessary.
Braddock’s office in Miami, Florida is typically clean as a whistle and organized, due in large part to the fact that she is rarely in the office. She tries to let her company president, Francis Taylor, handle the day to day operations. Today is different. Glory Braddock is facing a crisis that only she can handle, for she is the head of the company and she, along with Kurt Logan, are facing potential assault charges and a lawsuit from Ronald D. Kennedy. Thus the office is in disarray, looking like a disorganized mess.
In another unusual change of pace, Glory Braddock isn’t dressed for the corporate life. Whenever she is in the office she dresses the part; but today she is sitting at her desk wearing a pair of denim jeans, flip flops, and a purple blouse. Kurt sits next to her wearing khaki shorts and a tropical themed t-shirt. Sitting across from them is their family attorney, Robert Odom. The grey haired attorney is dressed in khaki pants, a white button up short, and a navy blue blazer.
“Thanks for helping us on such short notice, Bob.” Glory says to the elderly attorney. Odom nods his head, acknowledging The British Bombshell.
“It isn’t a problem, Ms. Braddock.”
“I should be the one thanking you.” Kurt says with a note of frustration in his voice. “I’m the one responsible for this crap.”
“It isn’t your fault, Kurt. Kennedy provoked you.”
“Yeah, I know. But the fact that he played me like a god damn fiddle is what pisses me off.” Kurt shakes his head and sighs in disgust, disgust with himself mostly. “I can’t believe I let him sucker me into that, one of the oldest tricks in the book.”
Braddock reaches out and pats her husband gently on the shoulder. “It’s ok, love. We’ll get it sorted out, ok?” Braddock turns and looks questioningly at the attorney. “We CAN get this sorted out? Right?”
“I did try to reach out to Mr. Kennedy himself but I was forwarded to his attorney, a woman by the name of Connie Josey.”
“What did she have to say?”
“The good news that Mr. Kennedy does not wish to press any criminal charges against Mr. Logan.”
“Well that’s good.” Glory says with a sigh of relief.
“However, they are prepared to go on with a civil suit if we do not settle.”
“How much do they want?” Glory asks, arching her brow curiously.
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Five grand?!” Kurt exclaims, rising from his chair and pacing the floor like an angry lion, with an enraged look on his face. “Five hundred thousand for one damn punch to the face?!”
“Yes.”
“We’re not paying!” Kurt shouts angrily, shaking his head furiously. For Glory, watching her husband with understandable concern, it almost seems like flames were shooting out of Kurt’s head. “This is outrageous!”
“Of course it is, love, but losing your temper isn’t helping matters.” Braddock remarks in a calm tone, hoping her husband will take the cue and also calm down. “Kennedy had it coming, but you know he wants to provoke you so he can use this against us.”
Kurt finally realizes that his wife is right. He sighs deeply out of frustration before sitting back down. “Yeah...you wanted to take on this modeling agency for Kayla, you wanted to help her out and now because I allowed myself to get manipulated by RDK, because I lost my temper, he’s going to try and take us for everything we have.”
“I seriously doubt he will get everything he is asking for, Mr. Logan.” The gray haired attorney remarks. “Five hundred thousand for a, as you said, one simple punch to the jaw is outrageous. Any judge worth their salt should see this for what it really is.”
“So do you think a judge might drop the case altogether?” Braddock asks hopefully. Odom shrugs his shoulders.
“That’s a different question entirely. If you were to ask my unbiased opinion of the matter, Mr. Logan did technically ‘assault’ Mr. Kennedy. Is Ms. Kennedy entitled to compensation? Perhaps, but how much? For one punch to the jaw I doubt a judge would give him very much.”
The British Bombshell looks very frustrated at this answer, as it was not the one she was hoping for. “That’s good I suppose. But you know damn well that Kennedy will use this as bad publicity against our company. I doubt RDK really cares much about the five hundred grand. He probably just wants to use this as another way to run down the company.”
“Fiona and Kayla did say that he was trying to convince the other models to leave the agency and sign with him, right?” Kurt asks. Glory nods her head.
“Unfortunately that is exactly what the bloke is doing. And now after this incident, he will have another example of why the models should leave. He doesn’t intend to ruin us by taking our money or beating us in court, he wants to ruin us by destroying our public image and reputation.”
Kurt shakes his head as further guilt washes over him. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, Glory. I just couldn’t stand there and take it anymore. I…”
“It isn’t your fault, love. To be honest, I probably would have done the same thing.” The British Bombshell leans over and plants a gentle kiss on her husband’s cheek. Braddock then turns back to face her attorney.
“So what do you think, Bob? How would you recommend we proceed with this?”
“If I am perfectly honest with you, I think you are actually in a better situation than you may believe. Grant there is nothing much I can help you with regarding you reputation or public image, but legally there is nothing Mr. Kennedy or his attorney can do. A judge would have to be out of their mind to award him five hundred thousand dollars worth of damages for one punch. I believe I can convince a judge that this suit is a waste of time. If you wish I can reach out one final time to Ms. Josey and try to convince her that her client is unlikely to get what he wants out of this lawsuit. Surely she knows this as well as I do and hopefully she can convince him to ask for a smaller settlement, if not withdraw the suit in its entirety.”
“And if you can’t talk them down?”
“Like I said, I believe we can win in court if necessary.” Odom says with a grin that is rare from the gray haired attorney. Braddock is satisfied with this answer and nods her head.
“Sounds good, mate. Make it so.”
“Very well then.” Robert Odom rises up out of his chair. “In that case, I will take my leave. I am sure you and Mr. Logan have a few more things to discuss. I will return to my law office and make some calls to Kennedy’s attorney.”
“Thank you, Bob.” Glory says. Odom nods in acknowledgement before turning and walking away. He opens the door and exits the office, shutting the door behind him. Once he is gone Kurt again sighs deeply out of frustration. Braddock can tell that guilt is still overwhelming her husband as she reaches out and clasps his hand tightly.
“What is it Kurt?”
“That bastard RDK had it coming.” He shakes his head. “But this is on me. I let him pull my strings, I let him provoke me, and now he’s using this as an attempt to run us into the ground.”
“No, he isn’t trying to run us into the ground.” Braddock says, shaking her head. “He doesn’t even care about you. He’s just using you to get to me.”
“And that’s why this is my fault. I lost my cool and because of that I gave him the perfect way to run your name and your reputation through the mud. I’m sorry.”
“I already told you that you have nothing to apologize for; you punched him in the mouth, but anyone with pride and dignity would have done the same damn thing in your position. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and yes, of course we wish we could take it back but we can’t. What’s done is done and now we just have to fight this. And you heard what Bob said, legally we are in a very good situation.”
“Yeah, legally we’re going to be fine, but you know he’s going to use this to damage the reputation of your company and to further damage the reputation of the modeling agency you just purchased. He’s already been in the ear of some models, trying to convince them to leave. He’ll use this to convince more models to leave your agency. All of the money in the world and the corporate backing your company provides will be worth nothing to your agency if there are no models.”
“I know that Kurt, I realize that RDK will be bringing the fight to us but I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to keep the dream alive. Modeling has never been anything I ever really cared much about, but it is something my cousin Kayla cares about, so I want to fight to keep her dream alive. Fiona also wants to use modeling as a springboard into her real dream, the dream of becoming a wrestler. I want to help her dreams come true. People like Kayla and Fiona, they are passionate about their dreams and will fight for their dreams. And I’m not going to give up on them, Kurt. So yes, we will fight this, and we will fight anything else RDK is prepared to throw at us. And we will win. By hook or by crook, we will win.”
Kurt had been upset, angry, and depressed ever since arriving here today for what he knew would be a tense meeting about his newfound legal problems after he assaulted Ronald Duane Kennedy. But now, for the first time all day, Kurt Logan sports a genuine grin as he gazes deep into the passionate eyes of his lovely wife. He and Glory lean in and kiss passionately on the lips. As for Glory Braddock herself, she knows that the coming fight with RDK may prove challenging but this is a challenge she has to endure. Too many people depend upon her, people such as her cousin Kayla Jones and model Fiona Osbourne. Their dreams may very well hinge upon Glory Braddock’s success in fending off RDK. And Glory Braddock, at her very best, is someone who not only fights for what is right but fights out of passion and for her dreams.
==========
March 13th, 2021
Dallas, Texas
On Camera
==========
We open inside of the American Airlines Center in Dallas, Texas. This grand building will soon be full of professional wrestling fans ready for the spectacle that is SCW Retribution. Currently it sits quiet, empty, and almost desolate. Preparations have been made for tomorrow’s event; signs and banners advertising the event are hanging high in the air, the stage is set up as is an entrance ramp, and there is a wrestling ring in the center. The camera pans around to get a good look at the entire setting until it comes a shot at the entrance. Then we spot “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. The former fifteen time world champion is dressed in tight fitting denim jeans, black boots, and a royal purple silk blouse. Her long blonde hair hangs straight and unrestrained to past the shoulders.
“We’re here in Dallas Texas, the American Airlines Center, and tomorrow night twenty thousand plus will be crammed into this place.” She motions to the many seats, from the front row, to the middle sections, all the way up to the nosebleed sections and even the luxury skyboxes reserved for the rich. “Most of that twenty thousand plus will be here, in these seats. They have bought a ticket for a show whose roots go back as old as human history itself.”
“Roman Emperors would host gladiatorial games pitting gladiators against wild animals and gladiators against other gladiators, all for the entertainment of the Roman masses watching safely from their seats in the coliseum. Emperors loved to do this because it was a sure fire way to endear themselves to the public during times of upheaval or unrest. The people would forget about whatever problem the empire was facing, they would forgive any crime committed by the Emperor, all because of the love they had for the games. All they desired out of these games was entertainment.”
Braddock begins a steady, determined march down the entrance ramp, heading towards the ring. As she approaches the squared circle she motions towards it “But if you ask the gladiators themselves, if you ask the warriors who went to battle, putting their own lives on the line, this wasn’t about entertainment. The gladiators weren’t so shallow that entertainment was the singular reason they did this; these games, this was their lives. It was their livelihood. These gladiators who did battle in the confines of the coliseum were defined by their performance in the games. It was about being the best, being the strongest, being the most worthy of all gladiators.”
The British Bombshell rounds a corner and approaches the steel steps. She ascends the steps and then steps onto the ring apron. Braddock steps through the ropes and into the ring. She stands in the center of the ring. “And that very divide between Roman and gladiator is what separates you and me, Shilo. You came back to SCW and why? Because they hurt your pathetic ego when they wouldn’t recognize your so-called reputation? I’m not so sure about that because you shouldn’t have had to worry about your reputation. You were a Supreme Champion. You’ve done it all here in SCW and there was nothing for you to prove. Not a damn thing. So reputation? No, that’s not it. You drug your sorry ass out of bed and returned to SCW because you were bored. At least that’s what you tell everyone.”
“Whether it was Blackbourne, me, or whoever you happened to cross paths with, whoever was willing to listen to your mindless prattling, you told them that this was about entertaining yourself. Entertainment, is it?” Braddock’s face turns into a fierce and angry sneer. She is glaring hatred into the camera. “If you’re doing this just to be entertained, if you’re doing this because you’re bored and you got nothing better to do, then quit. Just quit, take your ego with you, because the men and the women on the SCW roster, the gladiators who come to this ring week in and week out busting their asses for this business, for this SPORT, they don’t want you here and they don’t need you here.”
“And as for me? Well you’re pissing me the fuck off because you are disrespecting the sport of professional wrestling. You are spitting upon a legacy of combat that has been around far longer than your pathetic little ass. But that’s fine, wrestling will outlive you and your precious little reputation. This great sport will still exist long after the name Shilo Valiant has become a distant memory. So continue to make a mockery of this sport that I love, because you are digging your own grave.”
“This isn’t about entertainment, you damn fool. This is about competition. This is WRESTLING and WRESTLING is what I do best. The fans who watched my father compete called him Britain’s Best, because in their eyes there was no better wrestler than Glenn Braddock. And there are many fans who call me the Best in the World because in their eyes there are few wrestlers who can measure up to me. And you know that as well as I do. Now I make no excuses for what happened at Last Grasp, you became Adrenaline Champion, but you cannot deny the fact that I did all the heavy lifting. I kicked your ass, I kicked Dylan Howell’s ass, and I was on my way to retaining the title. You merely took advantage of my work. Just further shows how pathetic you have become, Shilo.”
“This time at Retribution it will be one on one. No Dylan Howell to get in the way. Just you and one of the all time best wrestlers walking god’s green earth. And I can say that with confidence knowing it is true, and I can say with confidence that at Retribution I will make you remember that professional wrestling is not some game, it isn’t about your entertainment, it is a competition. It is a sport, a sport that you have made a mockery of. And I will make you pay for that mockery.”
Braddock points out to the empty seats. “If you want to be entertained by a god damn ticket! If you want to be entertained watch a fucking movie! But if you step through those ropes and enter this ring you become a gladiator. And do you know what happened to gladiators during the time of the Roman Empire, Shilo? Well, they definitely took their combat far more seriously than you, because for them it truly was life or death. With few rare exceptions, it was a fight to the death. You either won or you died. So if you choose to step into this ring and face me as the clown that you are, then I can guarantee you that I will either humble you and make you give up or I will choke your ass out. Either way, at Retribution I am coming to reclaim the SCW Adrenaline Championship.”
Braddock shuts her eyes. “Sic Semper Tyrannis…”
03-14-2021, 11:20 PM
Send in the Clown
Chapter 4: Some ‘Treasure’ was Meant to Stay Buried…
You know… when this was all happening, at least with the events I’m about to tell you, I found myself craving spaghetti and meatballs…
Yeah, I know it’s a weird way to start off. I mean, you would think I would wanna talk about relevant topics like acquiring the Adrenaline championship – my first championship title in, oh Lord, 4-5 years? No, it was less than that, wasn’t it? There was a television title of some sort, wasn’t there? One which I lost to Amy Chastaine? That was the last one… when was that again?
See?! It’s been so long, I can’t even recall. So, if I can’t even remember it, why dwell on it, other than the fact that it was a real long time ago. Instead, why wouldn’t I start off this particular chapter of my story not with something that I didn’t even recall, but instead to more pressing issues? Like the fact that I was craving spaghetti and meatballs?
Actually, now that we’re back on track, I think I’ll take this opportunity to say thank goodness for delivery services. Because I am not a chef by any stretch of the imagination. You have to understand that, when you live most of your life in a hole underneath the city of Toronto, it’s very difficult to get an oven or a freezer down that many floors below. I mean it’s possible – we had a few but there were certain things that were just difficult to do. On top of that, whatever we could find constantly broke down and repairs were difficult to acquire even with my finances.
“Oh please, Mr. Repairman! Come on down and check out this broken down freezer – I think it’s a coiling issue – what’s that? Where is it you ask? Oh, well, the freezer itself is about a couple hundred or so floors down that way…” and you point to the ground to emphasize your point. You ever see a fucking fat-ass mechanic look at you like you were the one taking the drugs in the back of his big van?
Regardless, it was my love, Marina, that had done most of the cooking in our relationship – still out on how base to label that in this story. I know we’re married, but I still think of her as my soulmate – hell, I can’t even remember when filled out the damn marriage certificate at city hall, but I sure as hell remember our Solgemia: date, time, what we wore, even who I was feuding with at the time – Gable Winchester, chance for me to get the United States title for a second time. Yeah, suffice it to say, it was the most important moment in my life – still is, along with a few others – and was definitely more important a tradition.
I’ll tell you that, over the last few weeks, I found myself coming back to such thoughts and memories. The things that meant the most important to me. My Solgemia with Marina, the day Gwynplaine was brought into our lives, the birth of my son and, once again, due to the current issue, my craving for spaghetti and meatballs. I don’t remember which company I used. Maybe it was Boston Pizza or something nearby – East Side Mario’s perhaps? No matter, I made the arrangements through my phone and, when it finally arrived, I took the heaping helping of noodles and balls of meat – yeah, I know Ace Marshall would have had a giggle at that, or maybe Cid Turner or Asher Hayes?
Anyway, I felt that it hit the spot in my appetite at least, my physical one, but again as with all my issues in life, when one task is finished, I found myself asking myself, “OK, now what do I do?”.
Well, I’ll set something else up for you while I dwell on that. It was the week before the pay-per-view and SCW taking its traditional pre-PPV break- Actually, can I ask what is so hard about prepping for an arena that a full week of is necessary? You pack a truck, drive the truck down the road several miles, stop at the next place, unpack the truck, setup, takedown, rinse and repeat, right?
Still, a company that once had every week filled with shows, including additional house shows on top of that, apparently, now, required a week off to prepare for a big event like this, which just meant one more show that I could have been on but not given the chance or – more accurately – one more show where I wasn’t really wanted that I could invade!
I’ll admit that I’ve become a little bit of a Vagabond, guys, with my ‘antics’ of sorts. The whole ‘invading shows’ when possible to tease and mock certain individuals – don’t worry, I’ll get to that at the end here, just keep your eyes out for the promo… or skip to it. Either way, really, you’ll get to it.
But back to the ‘invading’ that took up a number of my ‘appearances’ within SCW. My strategy was often foolproof, which was good as I was often dealing with fools. See, you had this staff supposedly guarding the doors of SCW and they expected some kind of limousine entrance or some kind of big display of Shilo Valiant coming in a car decked out in masks, perhaps, or perhaps coming in via a stagecoach – oh, how about this one! – perhaps a horse drawn buggy! And there I am on top with a top hat, coattails singing a little bit of the greatest showman – that musical film starring Hugh Jackman. I think I would sound really good if I sang that one that he sings “From now on”? That big number, and I’d do the dance stuff – yeah, I think I think I could pull that off even with my bad knee…
But see, that was the problem with SCW! They kept trying to predict what I would do if it was four or so years ago! And let’s face it, they were just wasting resources rather than doing what they should have been doing all along, which was just leaving the front door open for me to walk on through. I mean, you’d think that after so many months of giving them more viewers, giving them more chances of entertaining matches, giving them just plain more money, they’d be grateful! Instead, they were still trying to keep me out, still trying to keep me controlled…
I will not lie to you guys, there were moments of frustration that dwelling on such thoughts, dwelling on such moments and realities, that, alone with my thoughts, led to a grumpy Shilo, which I can tell you right now, you would not appreciate in the slightest. The last time I was “grumpy”, as it were… well… I wore a mask and didn’t say more than a few words for about a year.
Yeah, remember that guy? That Shilo was no fun. Effective, but no fun.
Still, SCW was not considering the true nature of my abilities in their efforts to deal with me – which made it difficult for me to assign blame. Was it the staff for being incompetent, or was it Sasha that didn’t seem to care enough to make the effort?
Because here’s the truth, guys, the magic behind the curtain: there was no break-in that I had to do.
Honest. There was no Mission Impossible ‘enter through the vents option’. All I had to do was just get into my car, drive the necessary miles to the nearest airport in Toronto from my place in Guelph, take a plane ride on commercial or economy class, if you will, fly all the way to the city where Breakdown was going to be held, buy myself a ticket if I hadn’t already, and the rest was easy.
Sure, it was a little costly to keep doing this every single show but, let’s face it, for the pay-per-view appearances I was making – oh I’m sorry, let me correct. For the PPV appearances that SCW was, quote, ‘forcing me to’, not to mention now a bit of a bonus with being a champion, I was coming out ahead and I was having fun too, so who was I to complain?
See, people don’t understand this, but if you have a job you love? Something that fills your time with enjoyment, and yes, entertainment. If you have that, then how much you make doing that job isn’t always a factor. Don’t get me wrong, there have been a number of times that I found myself missing the certain ‘high class’ that my position when at the top of my game allowed me to have. There have been times where I missed living in Toronto in both the Kings of Shadows and in the suite of the Sovereign – excuse me, the Empress, as she had been known after her father – but would I have loved my position as the Entertainer of SCW back then any less if I was making a little bit less money doing it? No, I don’t think so.
There’s something liberating about being the most entertaining person in SCW, and for a moment, the briefest of moments, when I felt that title in my hands, I felt just like that again. Like my old self. I felt like that little boy running into an arena, finding his way through the wrestling world, winning a title within his first two months or so, becoming a dual champion a month later, rising faster than practically any other superstar had done at the time – I am curious about this Alistair Allocco fellow and how he did it in three months (becoming world champion and all. That was fun to watch).
I felt that way again holding the championship in my hands. Looking at that title, remembering where I was, and how the world, now, thought nothing of me in this world of SCW. Thought I could achieve nothing – I felt so damn good being able to throw it back in their faces with a simple yet immature “Na-na-na-na-na! I told you so!”
Ha ha! It felt right – it felt so good!
I cannot say that I wasted much time at the hotel after the match. In fact, there was no hotel for me. While everyone was having their post pay-per-view party to celebrate there, I was back in a cab, being driven back to the airport, hoping on the first available flight home to Toronto and so on and so forth. So while most of the people that thought me a relic were still sleeping off a hangover in the late hours of the morning/early afternoon, I was already home with my family.
After that, I fell into a sort of routine with my time in SCW. I would go to a show, arrive home, place the championship on the desk in my office – small space but enough for me to answer phone calls, emails, chat with people, prepare my promo material, if any, and make fun searches on Chrome for things that I thought could be useful. Speaking of which, do you know what the thing that I have researched the most often for SCW? The thing that I’ve looked into the most to use? You’ll never guess.
Fireworks.
Yeah, everything from the little sparklers you hold in your hand to the little poppers you can toss and they pop a few feet away from you. I don’t know why I still haven’t developed a plan for using such things, but the website is bookmarked – oh, sorry. ‘Spoiler warning’ if it even comes to that. I’m still thinking about that.
But back to the matter at hand. The title rested on my table in my office, only moving whenever Breakdown would occur and I had decided to make an appearance. That would be the only time I moved the title, picking it up, placing in my bag, and traveling to Breakdown, then return home, put it back on the desk –
Rinse and repeat.
I was happy to be the Adrenaline champion and to throw the new ‘Supreme Champion’ status in their faces was also a little fun. A little cherry on top. But did I love being the champion? Did I love having another championship in my list of accolades?
Would you surprised if I said no?
The title was a means to an end. A way for me to insert myself back into the game. To deal a blow to the SCW management that have felt so rightly in banishing me into exile, as it was having no work for me, taking pay-per-view names based off of my abilities, my gimmicks, my styles, my work – taking one of their titles seemed a fitting punishment after all they had taken from me.
But the first night as champion was the hardest. Once again, I woke up to excruciating pain and stiffness in my body that was all too familiar. Familiar enough so that I didn’t scream out in pain as I woke up in bed with Marina next to me (still asleep). All I could do in order to keep it that way was simply keep quiet and let the pain pass as it always did.
That was the price I paid for becoming adrenaline champion and I knew it would always be the price I would have to pay whenever I stepped into the ring.
The fear is still there, you know, the last moment I shared with you? Me in my family room before the last PPV? My knee seized up and forcing me to question everything in that moment? Fearing the losing of something very precious to me? That hasn’t magically vanished, guys, just because I hold a strip of leather with metal plates screwed into it.
Because, reality check, I’m not like others in SCW. I don’t just magically recover from all my injuries the next show after a big match or the next time you see me. I’m not suddenly ‘healed by the power of entertainment’.
Pain lingers in me. Almost as constant a companion as Marina has been. It has stayed with me for many years and every time you think Shilo Valiant has hurt himself or been hurt by someone, you are probably right. You won’t hear me lie about that like that fraud Bree Lancaster or the never changing, always complaining rival of mine, Syren. I don’t pretend my injuries don’t exist and I don’t just magically recover from them.
I know that every blow, every strike against me ticks the clock down – not my ‘retirement’ time. I went through that already, but something else I’m too terrified to fully contemplate/comprehend even now as I speak to you.
Of course, I have no need to be humbled by this information but if I did – if becoming Adrenaline champion had put me in a sense of arrogance and made me delusional into thinking I was untouchable… all I would need to do to shatter that delusion was look in my bag where that title resided when I was traveling.
I’d find something that I couldn’t show to Marina. Something that I couldn’t put on top of my desk and leave there like my title.
It was a small compartment. A box no bigger than two feet long and two feet wide. A wooden square with a metal-dial combination lock. A combination that only I know. And when I say only me, I mean only me. Not even Marina knows it. Hell, I’m not even sure she knows the box exists. I never open it until I arrive at the arena and not until I’ve entered a space where I know no one is and I’ve locked the door. When I know nobody is watching me.
It’s only then that I will put in the combination, open the box, and take out that metal knee brace.
I wish I could describe it to you, but the only word that comes to my mind is a large bear trap, probably something you would see in the twisted world of Saw. A demented, gnarled form of metal and compression meant to keep my knee – my injury, the parting gift from my old friend Masquerade – locked in place to allow proper movement. To make it compatible to wrestle and competitive to win.
Once it’s on, I do my best to hide it from everyone. It’s one thing to tell the world that you have sore knees and a sore back. It’s another to tell the world just how damaged they actually are. Does that make me a hypocrite for saying one minute that I display my injuries but then hiding what I use to keep myself functioning? Maybe it does. Maybe I don’t care. You can be as judgmental as you want as you take this in stock.
But I’ll ask you: What good would the revelation of such a thing do me?
Do you understand what would happen if I were to open my mouth and say that I am wearing a metallic, high industry grade knee brace? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I revealed that information? Do you have any idea what would go through the mind of each superstar that stepped into the ring with me it? I do.
Because it would no longer be about wrestling. No, to them it would be about being ‘the one that truly retired and crippled Shilo Valiant’.
Now, is it right for me to think so highly of myself? Heh heh… Three words for you. Hall of Famer. I have every right to think highly of myself, or have you forgotten that the person I’m soon to face is content to brag about a two minute run with the world championship?
People here, in SCW, as desperate as that would not hesitate to add ‘crippled the entertainer’ to their poor list of accolades. Hell, Gable Winchester once bragged that he scared me. Period. No that he beat me, not that he made me submit, just that he, apparently, scared me. No idea what he means but for three or four years, he had that on his list of accolades.
For me, I know that, if exposed, this bear trap on my knee instantly transforms into a bullseye to everyone else over fickle egos and desperate accolade-seekers! You know it just as I know it. Or should I throw in opportunists like Ravyn and Syren?
Yeah, exactly. So why risk it? Why risk so much? Just for one last run in SCW?
Truth is, there are some days where I don’t know the answer to that question. Entertainment is one thing. Respect is another. Anger and frustration were also always was at play as well, but if you were to ask me if these are more important than being able to run and play with my son, I would tell you no. I’d tell you that none of those things was more important than me being able to go for walks with Marina, than making sure that I’m around and capable for as long as I am able to be alive.
Still, I can’t tell you why I still return to SCW and why I pushed myself to become a champion in spite of the risks. Or why I continue on the path that I’m going but I know that if I drop now… if I simply disappear again like I did years ago – I don’t think I could live with that. The fear of what I can lose as a father and husband is one thing, but there is a deeper fear inside of me. A feeling that this last trek – this last journey, this last leg of what my career was supposed to be on my terms…
What that fear is based upon in terms of the end goal, what I fear to lose out on by dropping off the face of the earth again I’m not sure yet. I can’t say if it’s another run with the world title or perhaps one last headline at Rise to Greatness or something else entirely. For a time, I will say, I thought that acquiring the Adrenaline championship could fulfill that end – that perhaps for someone like me, who’s done it all to simply do the one thing I hadn’t done in becoming Supreme champion would fill that gap…
We all know now that is not the case or you should know now. Have you been watching Breakdown? I don’t know. I don’t know specifically who watches.
But let me take you back too a few days after I won the Adrenaline championship. It was not difficult to hide the pain from Marina, simply because I didn’t really have to hide it too much. She was already knew that I would return home injured.
She didn’t say anything to me about it…
Didn’t chastise me for being wrong and her being right again, which we all know that that was going to be the case…
She just looked at me with an expression that I hate to see on her face. An expression of worry, of frustration, and eventually, quiet surrender.
She knew she couldn’t have changed my mind… And part of me hates her for that. I know that’s unfair but I partly wish she could change my mind. Could convince me to leave all this behind. To truly make me believe that I don’t need SCW anymore. I don’t need to be there. To convince me that I can move on…
Like I said, I know it’s unfair to want that from her. I know it’s unfair to want her to be the one to change my mind – that of an adult – but I know what I feel and part of me wishes that she had the power to do that… just so I wouldn’t have to witness that look on her face every time I came through the door.
Back to the story: a few days after I won the title and after hiding the pain which I could from Marina, I visited my physiotherapist/ my doctor. Despite retiring from wrestling when I did, I still sought out professional help to try and fix what lingering brokenness remained in my body. The recent aforementioned issue of my knee had pushed another consultation further forward.
It was he that recommended the knee brace to me, his words echoing in my brain… Not that this brace would ‘offer me better mobility’. Not that this brace would ‘make things better’. No…
“You need this brace, Shilo…” he had said.
Need this apparatus of metal like it was an iron lung or something. And if I didn’t use it, if I didn’t wear it during my matches in the arenas, my knee could lock up again. And in a sport where every moment, every second, every instant could lead to an injury…
I haven’t felt helpless since the day my face burned… lying in that room eight years ago. Blind from the flash for a few days, but grateful for it because I was too afraid of looking at my face. Because I knew it had been scarred. That’s how helpless I felt what he brought me that brace and it’s how I feel every time I look at it. Every time, I have to put it on. Every time I move and feel it pressing against my joint, keeping it locked in place properly.
And yet, like an addict, I can’t stop even as he was telling me that information. I knew that I would not be stopped by this. I couldn’t stop even as he showed me that damn thing and had me fitted with it. I knew I would not stop.
But it wasn’t all easy mindset from there on out. There was a moment when I had a near scare that my secrets would be revealed to Marina…
Let me explain, because the pandemic, my boy Memphis could not enjoy as much outdoor time with his friends as he use to. We couldn’t invite them over as much as we used to and there were less neighborhood parties that Marina, Memphis and I could attend. In short, we had to make our own fun for the boy. Our own games.
And his favorite game was the scavenger hunt. Nothing exorbitant, but when you’re as creative as I am, you find ways to make entertainment for your children. For Marina as well.
But this was a simple game. You write down some clues, you make a map out of your yard backyard, front yard, and inside the house. You scatter clues throughout the area and the kid tries to find said clues and solve the riddles until finally he reaches his destination, which is usually a plateful of cookies or maybe a new toy, some kind of treasure that he could enjoy.
Like I said, it’s his favorite game. But one day, just a few days ago, actually, we were playing it and he disappeared to the house. The clue he was on had told him that he would have to ‘seek the place where he finds comfort from nightmares’. Not to hard to figure out for a boy his age. It’s my and Marina’s room, where he would often be allowed to stay and sleep since he was scared. The clue was on top of the bed, easy to find. You’d have to be blind as a bat to miss it…
And yet 15 minutes went by and he didn’t emerge from the house to find the next clue, where I was waiting. I was outside in the backyard by the little play-set with a swing I had gotten for him when we had moved to this place. A place where he could play and still stay safe. The next clue was waiting for him on the swing beside, yet he did it come out of the house…
And when 15 minutes turned into 20…
When 20 became 25…
When 25 became thirty – that was when I was worried.
Marina was at work it would be home in a few hours, but the matter was mine to resolve. I remember entering the house, calling his name or simply referring to him as ‘kiddo’. He had to be in my room, he had to be. There was no reason for him not to be. The clue was not cryptic – I made it simple for a boy his age of figure out…
I should have known better, though. Should have known that I hadn’t anticipated how he would think. Because what was the most obvious place to look to a boy like him… was often the last place to look.
Soon as I opened the door and entered my room, you could imagine my horror when I saw him standing there holding that wooden box in his hands.
“I found it! I found it!” he proclaimed loudly, his eyes bright as he looked at me. “I found the treasure!”
…
I will tell you that I am not proud of what followed. In a mad panic, I grabbed the box from his hands and ripped it away in a rush. Frantically, I checked the dials, ensuring the damn thing was still locked (which it was) before turning back to look at him. I was ready to simply tell him that the box wasn’t the treasure but what he had found was a private item of mine that wasn’t meant to be opened by anyone but me. Something simple – some simple explanation once my reasoning had kicked back in, but I didn’t have the chance.
For looking back at my son, I wasn’t prepared to see the look of horror on his face as he regarded me. How his little voice trembled as he stammered my name. “Dad…”
“What is it?” I asked my whole frame locked in place.
“I’m sorry if I’m messed up…am I in trouble?”
Why was this boy apologizing to me? I couldn’t figure it out. He had done nothing wrong. He had simply looked in the wrong place and grabbed the wrong thing and made the wrong assumption. It was a common habit in guessing games like these! How often had the individual thought it was Mr. Plumb in the Conservatory with a lead pipe when it was actually Mr. Green in the ballroom with the revolver? Why was he apologizing to me?
As I turned my frame just a little, my eyes caught sight of the reflection in the mirror that decoratively hung on the wall and what I saw explained to me why he was afraid… because it terrified me too. My features, locked from the previous panic, the wild expression that my features were locked into, the raised cheeks, the burning eyes, the wideness of my gaze. I’m quite certain that this was the kind of look that could have even have startled Xander Valentine. It was reminiscent of the look of a caged, trapped animal. A look augmented by the scars on the side of my face from my ‘playing with fire’ incident.
I can’t tell you how much I willed myself to exile the expression from my face. How I tried desperately to return my expression to something of a normal bearing. Something that my son could recognize despite the scars of SCW and the panic I had felt in that moment.
Slowly, with only marginal difficulty, I lowered myself to a kneeling position, keeping my bad knee up while the weight set on my left. “Memphis…” I tried. “Kiddo…” I added trying to reach him past his sudden spike of fear. “It’s okay.” I told him. “You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you look so angry then?” he asked innocently enough, and he had every right to ask that question.
“I wasn’t angry.” I told him, trying to explain. “I was afraid. You see, this box…” I held it towards him a little, still keeping it out of his reach. “It’s very dangerous.” I told him. “It’s is very important to me but it is not meant to be handled by children or even other adults like mom.”
His head gave a little tilt as he still remained a little ways away from me. “Even mom?”
“Especially your mother.” I told him. “This is something that was built especially for me.” I added. “I’m the only person who knows fully how to operate it how to use it. How to understand it.”
“Oh like a special weapon?” the boy asked, referring to his Star Wars TV shows or some other stuff he’d been watching on TV recently – something like that.
I simply nodded my head, not quite sure if he was right or not but settling on the tension-breaking topic.
“I need you to do me a favor.” I stated, causing his head to tilt in the opposite direction and the inquiring gaze in his eyes to fully meet mine. “I need you to keep this between you and me, okay?” I told him. “Because if your mother found out, she would probably try and use it, mostly out of concern for me.” “Why?” he asked.
“Well…that’s just how your mother thinks.” I settled on replying. “And I don’t wanna see mommy hurt. Do you want to see mommy hurt?”
He quickly shook his head, giving me the answer I knew I would get but had been still hopeful for it nonetheless.
“Of course you don’t.” I replied. “So I need you to keep this between you and me, OK?”
It took him a moment to process what I’d been telling him. A moment for his childlike brain too bring all the factors together and formulate a response. But eventually, he gave a slow nod of his head.
“I need I need you to promise me, OK?” I leaned over forward over my knee, doing my best not to aggravate it.
He looked at me and nodded his head again, followed by the two words I needed to hear. “I promise.”
I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. “Good boy”. I told him. “I think the clue you were looking is on the bed.” I added, pointing towards the mattress. And the large wooden frame that stood behind him. Turning around. He was quick to grasp the paper and rush out of the room, the event hopefully, for my sake, forgotten.
And for my part, I simply stood there. And when I say that, I mean I slowly and irritatingly pushed myself through the discomfort to actually stand again. A part of me wanted to unlock the box in my hands. To open it and reveal the folded-up metal thing that was affecting my life so much. A part of me wanted to finally smash it to pieces.
To be Shilo Valiant of the old days. Much like I smashed masks, smashed glass. Defied every notion that I had been thrown my way. Notions that said I couldn’t or I shouldn’t. That youthful naivete, the kind that I had felt defeating Glory Braddock, and Dylan Howell that night, was roaring in my ears! Demanding that I rebel, demanding that I defy the orders of the doctor. Even if they had my best interest at heart.
Because I was not just a mortal man! I was not just a father of two! No! I was Shilo Valiant. The man that survived death itself, the flames of hell grasping at me, to not only return to the world that I was told I would never return to, but to conquer it in the grandest way. The kind of comeback that made David Helms’ look like a damn joke. Every crevice and thought in my brain ordered me to. And for every memory flashed into my cerebellum, my thumb would flick the dials to their proper place until I got to the 5th and final number.
All that was needed was one more number to unlock it and to expose the metal contraption that was both my ally and my greatest liability.
Louder and louder, my mind screamed at me. Show me visions of what I had been. The rolling sentons that I could perform. The swinging from ladders, dancing across the floors that were laden with alligators. Showing me the man that had waged war against the Coalition – where I had brought all but one of them to their knees inside the elimination chamber. The man that had been strong enough to defy the flame, grasping it in his hands for the entire duration. Screw beating six people to become world champion. I defeated 31!
The images continued to assail me, my thumb trembling against the dial. I saw myself holding the World Championship, the United championship, the tag, every title, sometimes even simultaneously. Holding the World and US as Bree Lancaster had done – I told you she was simply a copycat.
Finally, in came the latest memory. Me standing there with the Adrenaline Championship in my hand, raised to the world as they were booing me because I had made them all fools. Made them all look like morons because they had all believed that I was unworthy. Unworthy of accomplishing such a task. That I was unable to perform past their expectations. They were booing because I had made them look wrong.
I felt the power resonating through my body as the memories assailed me, buzzing through my arms and my torso. But it could not reach my knee. It could not reach the centre of my pain. Of my fears.
And that was the thick of it, wasn’t it? The old-young Shilo may have done what it wanted me to do.
The old-old Shilo couldn’t…
With a long sigh, all I could do was simply tuck the box away. Back into the bag and into the closet, and close the door.
My pride was untouchable. My ego was immaterial and thus was unbreakable. But I knew my body was neither of those things. I knew that, in order to survive – to have a chance to do whatever it was I needed to do in SCW, I had to relent. I had to listen. I had to have that contraption on me and had to keep it hidden from the rest of SCW. Keep it hidden from my son, keep it hidden from my darling Marina.
Would you have done any different? To achieve the impossible dream that you cannot quite define yet, what would you have done differently? I knew then what I know now. And that is that I don’t have the time to act differently. I don’t have the time to defy what my body is telling me.
My time, dear audience is running out. And pretty soon, it will be gone…
Oh, I should tell you one last thing, just in case you were wondering:
The meatballs and spaghetti were delicious.
Bravo, glorious one. Such spirited words.
I hope you understand in some form or fashion just how powerful words can be. You have entertainers like me that could wow a crowd into a frenzy over a few phrases or keep them entertained for hours on end with a good story laced with clever wordings.
You have your politicians like Sasha and Katya, the modern-day Helens of Troy, who can bring down armies of wrestlers with but a few choice words to their recruited. You have idealists, like yourself, who believe that if they say something enough times – if they yell enough or use the right phrasing over and over again, they can achieve wonders or make people forget the words they said the week before.
No, I do not wish to be coy, Glory. I am indeed talking about you in that last one. Because I couldn’t help but notice the words you chose. Words that spoke of love for this sport, about honor in your name while saying words like mockery, unprofessional, and cowardly spewed in my direction…
Well. If we are going to talk about words, my dear, let us get the biggest one out of the way before we begin, shall we? The fact that by your own words, this match shouldn’t even be happening.
Do I speak such a thing because I’m afraid. Do I speak such a thing because I don’t want this match to happen? No, Glory. I say that this match should not be happening because of your own words. By your own decree!
For there you stood, a few weeks ago, and brazenly told the world on the eve of the Great Gauntlet match created by the Shilo-wannabe Ace Marshall. There you stood. Looked the world in the eye and said that you were a gambling woman. That you were all in on this gauntlet match and that if you did not conquer Mount Everest, Conqueror SCW and conquer the world championship, you would leave SCW.
And yet here we are. You are not the world champion. You did not conquer SCW. You did not conquer Mount Everest by defeating the best of the best. You, like so many others, were simy lost in the crowd, your presence in that match only because of my voice… my songfull words…
And yet here you are. Still in SCW. How is that possible, Glory? How is such a thing possible? For, if you were the honorable woman that you say you are, if you were the supposed gladiator of honor and integrity, while I am the miserable, cowardly emperor that demands people bend the knee to me, then how are you still here?
Because Glory Braddock does one thing that she is the best in the world in. And it isn’t wrestling. She lies. She flip flops her speeches over and over again, changing her mind one week into the next, spewing together a slew of pretty words, but never following through on a damn thing.
How many times did you use that Trios contract gifted to you by your teammates to try and capture the World Championship? How many times did you do that and guarantee…nay! Promise the world championship to be in your possession? To prove that you were the best in the world.
How many times Glory? And how many times did you fail? How many times did you come short?
No. What happened in that Gauntlet match was the same thing that’s happened every time you have failed. You went back on your word, you twisted your words into something ugly. “Oh oh. I didn’t win the match, but I won the championship for a mere two minutes. And that was what I really meant, so I can still stay in SCW!”
So that was it Glory? The honorable Glory Braddock, supposed daughter of “Britains Best”, though I imagine he was as delusional and as much a liar as you – it had to come from somewhere, didn’t it? -, the mighty Gladiator… that was your Mount Everest? That was you conquering SCW? Holding the World Championship for a breath.
You talk about me making a mockery of this place. Spitting on hard work and risks you “gladiators” partake in. And here you are. Turning your gamble of everything to achieve the greatest goals and into a Welch’s bet!
You fooled them. You deceived them, you lied to them, Glory. You denied them the entertainment that you promised. You owed them a farewell speech. You owed them a confession of your failures. An admittance that you are too much of a coward to be without SCW. To walk away and be forgotten just like your father!
But why should I be surprised at your hyhypocrisy? At your double standard? After twisting of the word and your disrespect of the value of a promise. Say what you will about me Glory. I really have heard it all before, but when I said that I would quit SCW years ago if I failed to win the shot of adrenaline tournament, I meant it.
I didn’t just smile, shrug my shorts and go oops. I didn’t go back on my word. I had failed. And I owned up to my vow. Because words mean something here. Wars are fought in this ring and at the table of the negotiations. Destinies are forged in the path of vowsse and promises.
But I look at you. I look at you and see a woman who said in her last match that she wasn’t the best in the world, then the match before that when she faced me, she said that she was the best in the world and I was unworthy of a title shoto… and now here we are and not only do you say you are a gladiator, you are once more proclaiming yourself the greatest there is.
Well, which one is it Glory? Which one is it that you are today? Am I going to face the best in the world supposedly? Or am I going to face the whining, little person that doesn’t think she is the best in the world this week?. Or am I going to see a flip flop in between the match when you realize what will happen to you, what you went against with me last time was not a fluke.
Because while you pretend to be one thing or the other, I have and always will be the entertainer. But you see that as cowardly. You see my tactics as mocking SCW… a slander on what SCW reoresents.
It’s funny that you would care so much about that, Glory. That you would draw comparisons between the Gladiator and the Emperor. It’s amazing that you would compare me to the latter and you to the former with words of honor and integrity. For what did I do? In that match Glory. Did I break the rules? Did I twist the facts. Did I employ underhanded, cheap tactics? What did I do that was so wrong in your eyes that you declare me to be the thief and you the one that did the heavy lifting?
All I did was I picked my moment. Waited for the right chance to make my move and when I did it worked.
He he he… There’s no rule that I broke Glory. There’s not a move that I did that would be considered illegal. There was nothing that I did that would make this match tainted. And you wish to condemn me for it? You of all people.
Tell me child does the date September 30th, 2020 ring a bell to you. No? No clue? Little hazy on the details perhaps? Well, given your inconsistencies with your own analysis of yourself, that doesn’t surprise me, but let me refresh your memory.
Gavin gets to ringside and picks up the Adrenaline title. He looks down at it in his hands. Meanwhile, Selena drags herself up. She looks out to the referee outside, who is just beginning to stir.
Sharper: “Selena still checking on the official, I don’t think she even knows Gavin is here.”
Knots: “What’s Gavin doing out here? You have to imagine Selena doesn’t want his help to beat Glory.”
Gavin slides into the ring with the belt in hand. He stands near Glory, looking down at her as she begins to pull herself up.
Knots: “Either way, Gavin’s about to get some revenge for last week!”
Selena turns around and Gavin suddenly turns and nails her in the head with the Adrenaline Championship. The crowd boos as Selena drops to the mat.
Sharper: “What the hell?!”
Gavin quickly slides out of the ring. As Glory gets up, she sees Gavin putting the title back into the corner and backing up to the ramp. Glory looks on in confusion as Gavin just smirks and shrugs. Glory shakes her head and looks outside the ring, where she sees the referee getting up on the apron. The referee rolls into the ring as Glory drags a knocked out Selena closer towards the corner. Glory goes through the ropes and climbs up the turnbuckle, standing on the top rope. She leaps up and drops down hard on Selena, hitting her with Blaze of Glory. The crowd continues to boo.
Knots: “Blaze of Glory!”
Sharper: “And Glory’s going to steal one here thanks to Gavin Taylor, of all people!”
Glory bounces off Selena and sits up, holding her stomach while wincing. She falls forward and covers Selena as the referee groggily begins the count.
1!
2!
3!
“When Legends Rise” begins to play as the bell sounds.
Philips: “Here is your winner, via pinfall, Glory Braddock!”
Well now... How about that?
Did you see that Glory? Do you think the world didn’t see that? You standing in the ring, knowing what had just transpired, knowing what had happened. Where was your integrity then? Where was your honor then, oh mighty gladiator? Where was your code? Where were your ethics? Where was that shining ambition of words that you threw at me just recently about upholding SCW? Respecting the work that so many others put in “each and every day”?
Because from what I just saw, you knew what happened. Yet still, you continued on and took the win. You took the outside interference. You took the cheap way out. And then you mock me for doing a similar tactic. The difference is though, is that mine never broke a rule. mine never twisted and disrespected my opponent.
But what else am I to expect from such a person as you? After all if you couldn’t keep your word of leaving SCW, why should I be surprised that you are two faced and hypocritical and would take a shortcut and only whine about it when such a thing didn’t benefit you. That is why I laughed at you when you won the championship and then as soon as you had it, you dropped it 2 minutes later to Chris Cannon!
Because I knew - I knew how your mind was working. I knew that along with the emotion of joy, you were feeling relief! Relief that you had your safety net so that even if you failed in the true goal, your want to conquering SCW, you would not have to leave SCW when you inevitably failed. Because you could just fall back on that wordplay, fall back on that excuse - that twisted phrase of notion. Fall back on challenging me.
That is why I’ve enjoyed tormenting you as I have. Why I’ve enjoyed just pushing your buttons from afar for so long. Because I hear you and I listen to you. And I can’t help but be infuriated. Infuriated that I need to now use the phrase former World champion when I address you. That you share something with me in that regard. Infuriated that you would lie to these people, lie to the world and deny them such entertainment for your own ego, for your own sake. That you hypocritically hold all these faults against me when you display them like a peacock’s feathers!
So where does that leave us now? The hypocritical gladiator and the emperor as you call me. It’s funny Glory ‘cause I’m pretty sure you meant to insult me when you said that. But truthfully, I think you are right. You see there are hundreds of gladiators in the war zone in the Coliseum. There are many soldiers that risk their lives, fight tooth and nail - something you truly have no idea about. You have never risked it all. Truly, you have never fought with life or death as I have. And if you want proof of that from me, all you need to do is look at the side of my face.
Never in your entire time here have you risked a damn thing. Because you’ve always hidden behind your lies, you’ve always had your little millions of dollars in your corporations to fall back on. Yes, we all know the story. But you are a gladiator Glory. You are a woman who will fight, right? And you are also one of the dozens and dozens of gladiators that fill up a Coliseum.
But there is only one emperor. There’s only one being of absolute power. Absolute authority. One being that every gladiator before they battle turn to and praise and salute. This is a being that every gladiator fights tooth and nail for, not for honor, not for fame and glory. No, they fight to win the eye of the emperor there. Hail Caesar!
They fight to garner his praise, to gain his favor because that is the true prize because that man to them is a God!
So when you call me an emperor, Glory, you could not give me a better compliment. Because what are you doing now? But fighting to get my attention, fighting for my favor to shine upon you. So you can shine once more in the spotlight. What are you doing now other than scratching and clawing… All to entertain me.
Don’t you see Glory? You have done nothing but play right into my hands. Right into my game, my world, my Empire of Entertainment. An empire where I, much like the politicians and entertainers can control all with a few words. A need gesture of the hand the decide whether you lived or died.
That is the difference between us Glory. You are quite right in that, but the difference lies in our significance. For I’m a man who lives by his word. I’m a man who lives by the value of a promise. I’m a man who knows that his every word, his every action controls an entire federation. The Empire of Entertainment lives and dies with me. On my every whim on my every decision.
And you are indeed the gladiator. The creature crawling around in the sand and the mud swinging her stick like a madman. Swearing and cursing the gods above for your misfortune and blaming everyone around you except for yourself. Pity the gladiator. Pity the poor soul who must risk certain things. Pity the individual who comes up short because she is not strong enough. Pity her circumstances because she was not granted the opportunities of the emperor. How tiring. How pathetic YOU truly are. Yet you wish to address me as pathetic. After seeing the depths you will go to for your own ego, the people you will cheat to acquire your wins. The times you have flip flopped the script. Changed allegiance at the drop of a dime. Simply because it suited you too. Sold your morals to the highest bidder…
The difference in you and I, Glory, is not a matter of honor or code or ethics. Deep down you truly have none. The difference in us is resolve. The difference in us is that I don’t need to flip the script, I don’t need to go back on my word because I know how to wield such power. I know how to use it, I know how to achieve the promises I make.
So whether it was you against me or you, and I with Howell thrown in, the result would not have changed. Because any tactician would know that it's not the strongest, bravest or as you put it most honorable that wins the fight.
It is the smartest, the one that uses all that they have to compensate for their shortcomings and utilizes strategy to overcome their opponent.
A gladiator would know that.
The best in the world would know that.
So why doesn't glory Braddock know that?
Well. I can assure you that when we are finished in our entertaining match tonight, you will learn that. You will learn the true difference between me and you, little gladiator. You will learn the true difference in our status. As your emperor comes down to battle, you.
So please Glory.
Supposed idol.
Supposed hero.
Supposed righteous person of SCW.
Check off the hypocrisy that the audience sees in you. Shake off the double standard that you try so desperately to hide. Continue the facade that you have painted for yourself over and over again and altered in broken vows, lies and deceit. Simply to face me once more.
Do all this gladiator as you prepare to face me. Salute your emperor. Draw your blade. Fight for my praise. Fight for my attention. Fight for my favor. Fight for my amusement – for my entertainment…
And try - just try Glory Braddock… To make me laugh.