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+----- Thread: Sal Darius vs. Glory Braddock (/showthread.php?tid=4446)
Sal Darius vs. Glory Braddock - Konrad Raab - 06-22-2025
2 RP Limit for singles
3500 Word Limit Per RP
Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET THURSDAY, June 26, 2025 (to ensure lots of time to post)
RE: Sal Darius vs. Glory Braddock - Braddock - 06-23-2025
1 of 2
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June 21st, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Glory Braddock continued her winning ways, increasing her winning streak to three straight. It wasn’t easy; she was doing battle with a familiar foe in Amelia Novado. They had battled one on one for the Television Title and several times over the SCW World Tag Team Championships. But The British Bombshell did manage to get the win over Novado to continue building momentum, continuing to prove that she could win her way back into championship contention and that dropping out of Taking Hold of the Flame was not necessarily a mistake. Unfortunately not everyone is happy with The British Bombshell. Ryan Lecavlier still has a beef with Braddock and yet again attacked her post match. Glory got a measure of revenge one week later by distracting Ryan and causing her to go down to defeat against La Pequina Luz. Ryan already has been driven crazy with the fact that she lost to Amelia Nevado, now she lost to both members of Light in the Darkness, thanks in part to Glory Braddock. It was not Braddock’s intentions to seemingly drag Amelia and Luz in the middle of this problem between herself and Lecavalier, but she was not going to sit idly by and let The Lost Monarch get away with these blindside attacks. The British Bombshell will fight back. Her problems with Ryan Lecavalier, and potentially more problems with Light in the Darkness, are not the only things Glory Braddock has to deal with. In one week she looks to add a fourth win to her winning streak by taking on Sal Darius. Ordinarily Braddock would not be too concerned over this match. It isn’t arrogance, she just knows that she is capable of beating anyone on the SCW roster. Unfortunately she knows that she still has to look over her shoulder knowing that Lecavalier could strike back at any time; she has proven that she is not above blindside attacks. The British Bombshell also has ongoing problems with management, namely the COO CHBK.
She also has ongoing problems outside of SCW involving her company, Glorious Golden Enterprises. Her best friend, Frances Taylor, quit the position of president of the company so that she could challenge Braddock and try to bring her to ruin. Frances has already tried to poach Glory’s talent from wrestling to modeling. Glory Braddock is convinced that Frances is being manipulated by her new boyfriend, Dominic Sterling. This puts The British Bombshell in a tough situation; she is competitive and wants to save her company, thus she knows she needs to defeat Frances. At the same time, after learning that Sterling may be deceiving and manipulating Frances, Glory wants to somehow protect Frances, she wants to save her. She isn’t sure she can do both. With all the chaos going on in the life of Glory Braddock, both professionally and personally, she now seeks advice and, hopefully, some assistance from her family.
The evening sun dipped low over the Boston, Massachusetts skyline, casting a golden hue across the glass windows of the high-rise apartment. Warm light filtered through sheer curtains, softening the edges of the tastefully modern living room. The air carried a faint blend of blooming roses from the fresh bouquet on the polished coffee table and the lingering scent of cinnamon tea. Everything in the room radiated calm sophistication; plush velvet cushions, a faint hum of string music in the background. The kind of serene domesticity that was completely and utterly alien to Glory Braddock. She sat stiffly at first on the velvet couch. Her presence brought a subtle contrast to the room’s elegance; not jarring, but grounded, real. Glory wore a pale chambray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled casually to her forearms, its neat structure hinting at her disciplined upbringing. The shirt was tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, the hem slightly frayed at the ankles, worn with clean white sneakers. It was a practical outfit, unassuming yet stylish.
Beside her sat her cousin, Angelica Jones, a vision of effortless femininity and calm resolve. Angelica wore a flowing, pale lilac dress adorned with a soft floral print in green and yellow hues. The dress hugged her slender frame gently, dipping into a subtle V at the neckline, then flaring out into a ruffled skirt that danced lightly around her knees. Her red hair was brushed to silky perfection, cascading in soft waves over one shoulder, her lipstick a shade deeper than the roses on the table behind her. Angelica’s poise, elegance, and domestic surroundings stood in striking contrast to the more rugged energy of her cousin, though the familial resemblance was unmistakable in their shared grace and intensity. The room was silent for a moment longer than comfortable, the weight of years and unspoken feelings sitting between them like a third guest. A fireplace flickered in the distance, unneeded but casting a cozy ambiance.
“Thanks for making time to see me, mate.” Glory says in a friendly tone. Angelica laughs softly.
“Oh come off it, Glory. We’re family. You’re always welcome here. Do you want me to get you some wine?”
“No thanks.” Glory shakes her head. “I’m probably going to leave here and drive up to see your sister later and check on the modeling agency while I’m here. I don’t want to have alcohol on me.”
“Understood.” Angelica nods her head. “Though I will save you the trouble…nothing is wrong with the modeling agency. Kayla has everything under control.”
“No poaching?” Glory asks with an arched brow. Angelica shakes her head.
“None. The models are perfectly happy, no signs of outside interference. Trust me, my sister has everything under control. There’s no need for you to run up here and check on her all the time.”
“I know.” Glory sighs and shakes her head. “It’s just difficult, you know? I’ve had to deal with corporate takeovers before. I learned the hard way how ruthless the corporate world can be. But I never thought I would be going to war with someone I thought was my best friend.”
Angelica gazes deep into the eyes of her younger cousin. She can see the sadness, almost grief, the grief of someone who lost a loved one. For Glory Braddock, this is almost true. She does feel as if she lost Frances Taylor, she fears that their friendship may be gone for good. She fears that there is no salvaging what they once had. Angelica pats Braddock on the back in order to provide some comfort.
“I understand. I really do. Just try to understand that if Frances really is your friend, then she will not go through with this insanity. If she does? Well,” she sighs “I hate to say it, but maybe she wasn’t your friend to begin with?”
“I fear you may be right.” Glory nods her head. “Still, I can’t help but think that Frances was deceived by that little twat she’s dating. I want to believe that her new boyfriend is just stringing her along, that he is the one driving a wedge between us.”
“New boyfriend?” Angelica asks curiously. “I don’t think you mentioned this before.”
“His name is Dominic Sterling.” Glory answers instantly. “Everything seemed fine initially. He makes her happy and of course I want my friend to be happy. But then she pulled this stunt, she quit my company, restarted Taylor Enterprises, and is determined to run me into the ground.”
“You think Sterling is behind it?”
“Damn right I do.” Glory nods her head. “Melody did some digging into this bloke’s background. Turns out he got all of his wealth through some very suspicious, fishy means.”
“He stole it?” Angelica seems rather surprised. Glory nods her head.
“It can’t be proven but we think he fraudulently stole his family’s wealth. His family has caught onto his little schemes and he can’t steal from them anymore. So Frances is his new target.” Braddock shakes her head. “And I feel helpless, I cannot do anything to help her.”
“You’re stressed.” Angelica says with a smirk, realizing that she is just stating the obvious. “Are you sure you don’t want some wine?”
“Sure.” Glory chuckles softly.
Angelica Jones rose gracefully from the couch. She walked to a discreetly placed cabinet nestled against the far wall, its lacquered finish catching a glint of the setting sun. Inside, behind a pair of frosted glass doors, sat a modest but well-curated collection of wine bottles. She selected a deep red vintage without hesitation. Her fingers moved with practiced ease as she retrieved two tall-stemmed glasses from the upper shelf and uncorked the bottle with a quiet pop that broke the stillness of the room. The wine flowed smoothly, a dark crimson ribbon swirling into crystal, the sound soft and rhythmic. Once filled, she took a moment, her hand hovering briefly over one glass before lifting both and turning back toward the couch. Angelica lowered herself back onto the couch with practiced grace, handing Glory one of the glasses.
“Thanks…” Glory sips on the wine. Angellica smirks.
“Feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Good. Now let’s take care of this stress of yours and the best way to do that is to leave it to other people, namely people you trust.”
“I tried trusting France and look where that got me.”
“But you can trust family.” Angelica winks.
“What are you suggesting?” Glory asks curiously.
“You are trying to take on the world all by yourself.” Angelica states. “Your wrestling career, your personal life, your corporate commitments to Glorious Golden Enterprises, it is running you ragged. Now your personal life, that’s got to be all you, but your wrestling career and your professional career can be taken care of, some of that stress can be lifted off of your shoulders. Let’s start with Supreme Championship Wrestling. Me and everyone else backstage can’t help but notice the ongoing feud between you and CHBK.”
“If you’re suggesting that I apologize to him, that I back down, then you are crazy.” Glory shakes her head. “Look at what that idiot has done…he helped screw me out of the Adrenaline Title, he won’t give me a rematch, he screwed me over again by adding Syren to my match against Selenna Frost. That decision right there is the reason I lost and was forced to be the number one entrant.”
“Yet you backed out of Taking Hold of the Flame.” Angelica points out. “You could have competed, tried to win.”
“That isn’t the point.” Glory shakes her head. “If I had the one on one match against Selena that I had wanted, and Selena beat me one on one, I would have accepted the loss, I would have accepted the stipulation, and I would have gladly entered as number one. Syren had no business being in that match. CHBK was trying to screw me over and help his best friend in the process.”
“Calm down.” Angelica laughs softly. “You don’t have to go off on a rant right here with me. And if you want my honest opinion? I agree with everything you said. You should get an Adrenaline Title Match. CHBK had no right to put Syren in that match. But sometimes you need to be diplomatic and compromise.” She winks. “Being a diplomat isn’t your strong suit. That’s where I come in.”
“Wait…” Glory furrows her brow in confusion “...are you suggesting…”
“Yes.” Angelica nods her head. “If you want, I will serve as your advocate. I will represent you backstage in front of CHBK the same way I advocate for Kim.”
“I don’t know…” Glory’s voice trails off.
“It’s perfect. You hate dealing with CHBK but I have no problems dealing with him. I already deal with him for Kim, I can deal with him for you too. And that would take one big stress off of your shoulders. All you would have to do is take care of your business in the ring, and that’s all you want, right?”
“Right.” Glory nods her head. “I just want to wrestle, I want competition. That’s it.”
“Then let me help you. Let me be your voice backstage when dealing with CHBK.”
“Fine…” Glory sips on her wine again “...but what about Frances and her crap? Are you suggesting that I hand control of that to you?”
“No way. The corporate world isn’t for me.” Angelica chuckles. “But I can advise you. First I need to know, what is the situation currently involving you, Frances, and this corporate feud?”
“The board of directors are getting antsy.” Glory states. “They want a resolution and quickly. They want a new president to replace Frances and I have yet to hire one.” She sighs “I guess I’m holding out hope that I can talk some sense into her.”
“And what about Frances?”
“Surprisingly she did make an offer to return…” Glory’s voice trails off “...but her terms are steep. Glorious Golden Enterprises would absorb Taylor Enterprises but Frances would get near unlimited powers in the merger.”
“You’re not too keen on giving her that much power.” Angelica states. Glory shakes her head.
“No, and I fear that Frances may try to go over my head and convince the board to approve the merger against my will.” Glory sighs. “I’m tempted to just accept the offer and hope and pray Frances won’t take advantage of me.”
“Bad idea.” Angelica shakes her head. “Do not accept the merger on her terms.”
“No?” Glory seems surprised by Angelica’s answer. “Then what do you suggest I do? You said yourself, I need to get some of this stress off of my shoulders. I cannot continue fighting this war with Frances.”
“It’s like I said, get someone else to help. In other words, have someone you trust fight the war for you. And if I recall, there is already someone with significant power and influence within your company that is ruthless enough and cutthroat enough to make sure nothing is done that you do not approve of?”
Braddock thinks about what Angelica said for a few moments before she suddenly realizes it. It’s like a light bulb goes off over the head of The British Bombshell.
“Aphrodite.”
“Yes. Let Aphrodite Noel handle this…at least temporarily. You know she would do anything for you. So let her.”
“Honestly, mate, I’m surprised you suggested that.” Glory answers.
“Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire. Whether its all Frances or whether its her boyfriend Dominic influencing her, the fact is that you need someone ruthless enough to stop them, or at least stall them temporarily. Aphrodite Noel is the perfect person for that job.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Glory says, skepticism dripping from her voice. “But I’m not so sure.”
“It is easy.” Angelica states. “Let me handle your CHBK problem so you can focus on doing what you do best…wrestle. And as far as Frances goes? I know your company can compete with Taylor Enterprises. You just don’t need to bother yourself with that right now; let someone like Aphrodite handle it. Besides, if what you told me about Dominic is true, it is very possible that Taylor Enterprises might already be poisoned.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone like him, committing fraud, stealing money; odds are that authorities are already investigating him. If he has his hands on Taylor Enterprises now, albeit through Frances, then that company might come under investigation. It might fall. That’s why you should not accept the merger.” Angelica shakes her head. “Let it die on its own.”
Glory Braddock leans back and thinks about what Angelica just said, all of the words, all of the advice. There is some skepticism still there but the more she sits, the longer she thinks about it, the more it all makes sense. The British Bombshell has been stubbornly trying to take on the entire world all on her own. She is stubbornly trying to take on everything from Ryan Lecavlier, CHBK, and Frances Taylor without any help. But Angelica is right; Glory Braddock has friends, allies, and family who are willing to assist her. Why not accept the help? Why not let Aphrodite deal with Frances Taylor? Why not let Angelica deal with CHBK? This frees Glory Braddock up to get back to the basics of what she was born and bred to do; wrestle. She can focus on taking down Sal Darius on Breakdown and, when the time comes, taking down Ryan Lecavalier. Braddock leans over and embraces Angelica in a hug, which causes Angelica to laugh softly.
“What was that for?”
“Thanks…thank you for reminding me that I do not have to take on the entire world all by myself…thank you for reminding me that it isn’t shameful to ask for help.”
“Pride and stubbornness. Those are traits you get from OUR side of the family, not your father’s.” Angelica winks. “Because I was once like you, stubbornly refused to back down, stubbornly refused to accept any help.”
“Is there any hope for me?” Glory asks, laughing. Angelica smiles knowingly.
“Of course. Today was just the first step.”
“I admit, it does feel like a weight has been lifted. I don’t have to worry about CHBK breathing down my neck if I have you defending me on my behalf. I don’t have to worry about my company knowing Aphrodite will fight back against Frances’s nonsense. All I have to do is focus on making Sal Darius tap out on Breakdown and bringing my winning streak up to four in a row.”
“And I look forward to watching you.”
The past several months have been trying, they have been very difficult for The British Bombshell. Between her dispute with CHBK, Ryan Lecavalier constantly blindsiding her, and the ongoing corporate war with a woman who was once her best friend, Frances Taylor, Glory Braddock has felt as if she was spreading herself too thin. But now, thanks to her cousin Angelica Jones, Glory Braddock finally sees some light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps a solution has finally presented itself at the most opportune of moments?
RE: Sal Darius vs. Glory Braddock - Braddock - 06-25-2025
2 of 2
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June 24th, 2025
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The low murmur of conversation and the soft clinking of silverware blended with smooth jazz music drifting from a hidden speaker in the ceiling. The Ossobuco Miami Steakhouse wasn’t the flashiest restaurant in the city but that was precisely why Glory Braddock had chosen it. It was a rustic steakhouse housed in a squat, stucco building with ivy creeping up its weathered façade. Inside, soft amber lighting spilled from hanging Edison bulbs suspended above each table, their glow diffused by bronze mesh shades that gave the room a warm, nostalgic haze. The air carried a gentle aroma of garlic, basil, and aged wine, underscored by the faintest trace of salt carried inland by the ocean breeze that slipped through the slightly cracked windows. The tables, set close enough to foster intimacy but far enough to ensure privacy, were clothed in deep burgundy linens. Wine glasses caught the light, casting shimmering rings on the mahogany wood. Waiters in crisp black shirts moved with quiet efficiency. The place had a lived in charm, the kind only time and consistency could create.
At a corner booth Glory Braddock sat with the quiet poise. Her long blonde hair was pinned into a loose chignon, with just enough rebellion in the flyaways to hint that this was more for function than vanity. Her face, framed by a few gently curling strands, bore the faintest touch of makeup. She wore a silky sleeveless slate gray blouse tucked into high waisted black trousers that hugged her athletic frame, her choice of wardrobe effortlessly blending power and elegance. Kurt Logan was the contrast that completed her. Where Glory was sharp lines and calculated precision, Kurt was a study in grounded warmth. His jet-black hair was slicked back with a touch of product, and a trimmed beard framed a square jaw. He wore a navy button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled just below the elbows, revealing the lean strength in his forearms. His jeans, dark and well-fitted, were a nod to his Texas roots. The light glinted off the simple silver band on his left hand as he lifted a glass of red wine to his lips, his dark eyes watching Glory with a mixture of curiosity and affection. A candle flickered between them, its flame catching in their eyes like a shared secret. It had been too long since they’d sat like this, no business, no distractions, no one else to impress or defend against. Just two people trying to reconnect in the rare stillness between the storms of their separate ambitions.
Outside, the occasional whoosh of a passing car reminded them they were still in the city, still part of the world. But here, inside Ossobuco, time felt slower. Their server, a young Cuban man with a kind smile and practiced posture, approached the table with a bottle of chianti and a small grin. The wine had been Glory’s choice, another small act of letting her guard down. He poured with a flourish, offering a nod as he stepped back and left them alone once more. Glory tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but no longer guarded. Kurt leaned in, sensing the moment had finally arrived. Between the jazz and the candlelight and the comfort of something real, the silence between them shifted, not heavy now, but expectant.
“You know, it has been too long since we have been able to just go out and enjoy a night out, just the two of us.” Glory smiles warmly and lovingly at Kurt, who smiles back and nods his head.
“It is refreshing to see you like this; it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders.”
“The wine helps.” Braddock sips her wine. She sighs. “It also helps that I don’t have to worry about dealing with CHBK anymore. That little twat was a really big part of my stress, but Angelica can deal with him now.”
“Your cousin was a life saver, you know that? If you had continued pressing CHBK’s buttons the way you had been, that little verbal reprimand from the SCW Board of Directors could have been the least of your worries. Things could have become far worse for you.”
“What can I say? I guess I’m not that much of a diplomat.” Braddock snickers. “I prefer to do my talking in the ring with my fists and my feet. I don’t want to be constantly bothered by dealing with the COO. I would rather be in the ring making idiots like Sal Darius tap out. I want to be in the ring doing what I do best, winning. I’ve won three in a row since I decided to drop out of Taking Hold of the Flame, since I decided to bet on myself to earn my way back into championship contention. Beating Sal will be my fourth straight victory. Eventually CHBK will be forced to give me a title match of some sort.”
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” Kurt winks. “You still have to beat Sal.”
“Don’t worry, love, I never look past or underestimate any opponent.”
“I’m just glad you are relaxed. All that stress couldn’t be healthy.”
“I admit, the stress was taking its toll.” Braddock sighs, then sips her wine. “I couldn’t sleep, I kept getting distracted, I lost focus. But so much stress has been lifted off my shoulders thanks to my cousin helping me deal with CHBK while Aphrodite helps me take care of my company and my corporate rivalry with Frances Taylor.”
Kurt shifts uneasily in his seat. It was Angelica’s suggestion that Glory Braddock let Aphrodite Noel, a very influential woman in Glory’s life and a powerful woman within Glorious Golden Enterprises, manage the company on Glory’s behalf. Kurt Logan doesn’t like the influence Aphrodite has on his wife and he doesn’t particularly like the idea of letting Aphrodite have this much control over the company, even if it is to guard against Frances Taylor.
“You know, babe, I’m glad that you are so relaxed and no longer stressed out, but I’m not exactly happy that you’re letting Aphrodite take care of the company for you.”
“Look, I get it, you don’t approve of my friendship with her. You think she has too much influence on me. But face facts, I cannot continue to fight this corporate war against Frances, a war that SHE declared, by the way. You and Angelica both agreed, I have had too much on my plate, too much stress. I need to delegate some of these responsibilities. Angelica is the perfect person to handle my issues with CHBK because she’s already dealing with him on behalf of Kim. So I need someone capable of being ruthless enough and cunning enough to fight Frances. Who better than Aphrodite? Name one person more capable.”
“I admit that I cannot really think of anyone.” Kurt sighs and shakes his head.
“Frances is willing to use any and all means necessary to try and undermine me, to ruin me, to bring me down. I need someone who can be equally as ruthless to defeat Frances.” Braddock shakes her head. “I cannot be that person otherwise I risk losing myself, I risk becoming some sort of monster I do not want to become. But Aphrodite already is that kind of person willing to do whatever necessary. She’ll take down Frances.”
“Oh you have no disagreements from me there.” Kurt shakes his head. “My concern is that Aphrodite might want something in return. She might ask a favor of you later. Are you prepared for that?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when and if it comes.” Glory nods her head. She reaches out and takes Kurt’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “But right now I don’t want to focus on any of my problems; I don’t want to talk about SCW or Frances. I just want tonight to be about you and me, about us.”
“Very well.” Kurt smiles warmly. “It’s all about us.”
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June 25th, 2025
Cleveland, Ohio
On Camera
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Glory Braddock stands confidently in the middle of a quiet, sunlit urban street, her poised and elegant demeanor at stark contrast with the industrial backdrop of an older, semi-residential part of Cleveland, Ohio, the setting of SCW Breakdown this week. Brick buildings with tall black-framed windows lined one side of the road. The midday sun lit the scene warmly, casting soft shadows across the asphalt and lending a golden sheen to the edges of Glory’s blonde hair, which fell in soft, voluminous waves around her shoulders. The street was nearly deserted save for a few parked cars and the long, faded lines of the sidewalk stretching into the background. Her attire was both casual and sharply coordinated; she wore a vibrant purple button-up shirt, cleanly pressed and crisply tailored to hug her frame without ever appearing tight. The shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of high-waisted, form fitting blue jeans that accentuated her long legs and athletic build. The denim was a mid wash, neither distressed nor flashy, giving her a grounded, modern look. On her feet were matching purple canvas sneakers with white soles, the laces tied precisely, continuing the color theme with a touch of laid-back charm. Her facial expression was one of calm self-assurance. With her back straight, shoulders relaxed, and hands gently at her sides, Glory projected a natural command of her surroundings, as if she were the anchor point in the flow of the day. Her eyes, highlighted by subtle but effective makeup, were fixed forward with quiet purpose, and her lightly glossed lips carried the trace of a confident smile. There was a breeze in the air, enough to stir the edge of her hair but not enough to break her posture. Behind her, the street gently curved out of frame, suggesting motion, change, and unseen destinations, much like Glory herself, whose story never stays still for long.
“When I dropped out of Taking Hold of the Flame I raised some eyebrows. It was a controversial decision that certainly left many people upset. But it wasn’t my intention to offend anyone, to make enemies, to make anyone angry. That was never my intention. My intention in dropping out of Taking Hold of the Flame was to bet on myself and my wrestling ability that I could wrestle my way into contention for a championship; Television Title, Underground Title, Adrenaline Title, United States Title, or the World Title. I was betting on myself that I could earn my way to a title match through the old fashioned way, before all the fancy gimmick matches, before all of the glitz and glamour. I was betting that I could get the job done by WINNING match after match. I was betting that, with my own wrestling ability, I could force SCW to sit up and take notice of me, who I am, and what I am capable of by going on winning streak like no other. It may take one win, two wins, or twelve wins, I don’t know, but at some point I know that my record would speak for itself and I would be granted an opportunity. I know that at some point I would earn the chance to be called champion again.” The British Bombshell holds up three fingers.
“Three up and three down…Kemal Yilmaz, I beat him. David Striker, I beat him. Amelia Nevado, I beat her. And if you look at those names you will note that they are not some journeymen, they are not some enhancement talent sent to make me look good. Kemal, Striker, and Nevado are all three very good wrestlers. They are damn good wrestlers. But they were not good enough to take down The British Bombshell. But this is what I wanted when I backed out of Taking Hold of the Flame. This is what I envisioned when I turned down that number one spot in Taking Hold of the Flame. I pictured me running the gauntlet of SCW wrestlers, the best wrestlers on the planet, and wrestling and defeating as many of them as I had to until I proved to the powers that be that I was worthy of challenging for a championship. I beat three and now I am onto number four.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.
“Sal Darius, you’re up next. Now I give my previous three opponents all of the credit in the world but you? I look at you and I am finding it very difficult to give you much credit, if I am being completely honest with you, mate. When I look at you, I don’t see a violent technical marvel like Kemal. I do not see an experienced grappler like Striker. I do not see a decorated former champion like Amelia. When I look at you I see a sleazy, slimy, harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen. When I look at you, I see man with anger management issues whose temper has already cost him victories and could cost him his job if he’s not careful…just ask my future son in law Clyde Sutter about what happens in this company when you lose your temper one too many times. Having a decision reversed and losing to a twat like Chase Upshaw is bad enough, Sal. That’s rather humiliating. But if you keep losing that temper of yours, someone will grow tired of dealing with your nonsense and throw you out.” Glory shakes her head.
“I’m not here to judge you and I am definitely not here to lecture you, Sal. Quite frankly, your future in SCW is none of my business and I do not really care to begin with. You are not exactly the ideal role model the fans of SCW need to be looking up to, you are not the kind of person people need to be modeling their lives after, so what happens with you if your temper continues to get the best of you or if you just drop off the face of the earth, it wouldn’t cause me to lose a bit of sleep. What does concern me about you, Sal, is that you are my opponent here in Cleveland for Breakdown. You are set to be my fourth opponent since I decided to bet on myself and I intend to make you my fourth straight victory. And for me it is a must win scenario which is bad news for you.” The British Bombshell smirks knowingly.
“Now some might look at you, your past within this company which, even you have to admit, is rather spotty. You have won some, you have lost some, you have dropped off the map only to return, you won some again, you lost some, and you lost to Chase Upshaw of all people because you couldn’t control your temper, all of this has led to you being unable to break through into the upper echelon of competition here in Supreme Championship Wrestling. And some might look at all that and think that you are not a threat. People like the Syrens, the Selena Frosts, and yes, even the Ryan Lecavaliers of the company might look right on past you, thinking that you are no threat to them. But unlike some, I never look past an opponent. I never ever underestimate my competition…even someone with as spotty and shady of a record as you. Even someone like you is capable of shocking the world on any given day in any given match. That is one of many lessons my father taught me growing up, one I will never ever forget. So if you’re hoping that I’ll make that kind of monumental mistake of underestimating you, then think again. Get another strategy, Sal, because that one won’t fly with me.”
“It’s like I told Amelia two weeks ago, I NEED this win…I need this and every other win in every single match I am booked in; I need as many wins as I can get because I took the gamble of a lifetime by backing out of Taking Hold of the Flame. I took a huge risk by refusing that opportunity and choosing, instead, to bet on myself. Taking Hold of the Flame, as difficult as it is to win, is still a shortcut to a world title match. I gambled that I could earn my way into a title match through the old fashioned way of winning matches. I’m already turning heads with three straight wins but that’s still not good enough. I need to keep going, I need to keep winning, and that means I NEED to defeat you, Sal. I cannot afford anything else.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.
“You’re equally as dangerous and I recognize that fact. You are in what is, arguably, an enviable position of having everything to gain and absolutely nothing to lose. If I beat you on Breakdown, you don’t lose much in terms of standing. You have yet to really break through in SCW so what does it really mean if you lost to a Supreme Champion? Not much. But if you were to pull off the shocker and win? Oh that would certainly be a breakthrough for you, THE breakthrough you have needed. That makes you dangerous, very dangerous, and someone not to be taken lightly. So on Breakdown, Sal, you are going to be treated the same way I treated Kemal…the same way I treated Striker…and yes, the same way I treated Amelia Nevado two weeks ago. I am treating you as if you are my toughest opponent to date. I am treating you like the threat that you are. And like the others, I will put you down. I will defeat you.” Glory holds up four fingers. “You will then become number four.”
“Now I want to address a certain someone who has been my shadow, my little stalker recently.” She nods her head. “Yes, I am talking about Ryan. I still can’t wrap my head around you and why you decided to make it your personal mission in life to be a pain in my ass. You attacked me twice now. Is it really all because I chose not to compete in Taking Hold of the Flame? Hell, you would have had to overcome thirty nine other competitors regardless of whether it was me in the match or not. Me bowing out changed very little for you. I don’t believe that’s it. I think there’s more to it. Maybe you want to make a name for yourself at my expense? Unfortunately you have the same problem ol’ Sal Darius has; you have a bit of a temper. You still haven’t gotten over the fact that you couldn’t beat Selena Frost. You’re pissed that you couldn’t beat Amelia Nevado. I wonder how it feels now that you lost to La Pequina Luz, the other member of Light in the Darkness? But you just can’t let anything go. If you want a match all you have to do is ask, mate. These blindside attacks are not necessary. I’ve said it from the very beginning, all I want is competition. You may have lost to Selena, Amelia, and Luz, but you have taken them all to their limit. You are also a former Television Champion. I find you extremely annoying but I still give credit where it is due, you are damn good in the ring, and you just the kind of competition I want. You never needed to jump me from behind. All you needed to do was ask. But consider this a warning; keep out of my business. Otherwise our match, when it does happen, will not end well for you.” Braddock shuts her eyes.
“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”
RE: Sal Darius vs. Glory Braddock - Sal Darius - 06-25-2025
Sal Darius stormed into his lavish home, adorned with shiny mirrors and extravagant furniture. The sound of the door unlocking echoed through the empty halls. As soon as the door opened, he hurled his bag to the floor in a fit of rage.
“MOTHERFUCKER! This whole SCW management is rubbing filth on me, making me lose against these nobodies!” he shouted, breathing heavily. He began tearing off his clothes in frustration, stomping through the house in nothing but floral boxers.
“These fuckers! Fuck this clean lifestyle…” he muttered angrily, before heading upstairs.
He climbed the steps and opened the door to the only room on the upper floor. Inside, he approached a shelf and pulled back a white sheet, revealing a small packet hidden beneath. He stared at it—white powder. A ghost from his past. A phase that had once nearly destroyed him. He stood there, breathing harder, locked in a battle with temptation. “LET’S DO IT!” he yelled suddenly, only to throw the packet carelessly back into the sheets. He rubbed his head in frustration, torn between relapse and resolve. Stumbling into the bathroom, he turned on the shower. Steam quickly filled the space like a thick fog. With one hand on the wall, he shut his eyes, letting memories crash down on him.
The pain. The betrayal. The failure.
He opened his eyes, rage boiling over, and slammed his hand against the wall—twice. The second hit was too much. He grabbed his hand with the other, wincing and shouting in pain.
Water continued to pour down over his body as he stood there, screaming—not just from the injury, but from everything building inside him. The pain, the pressure, the past. All of it. Flooding out like the water around him.
He sat down below the shower and cried his eyes out. After he gets down processing the emotions. Sal gets up, he dries himself properly and looks at himself in the breath. Taking a huge breath. He talks to himself ‘maybe pro wrestling is the only thing that has saved me from that party life, I need to be extra committed to myself and this profession… IT'S TIME!’ Sal goes to bed and switches off.
The scene opens in a medical institute where Sal was having a conversation with a problem.
Doc: Soo, how far is your next fight?
Sal: About a week. Do you think I can recover by then?
Doc: Hard to say. Let the X-rays come. May I ask how this happened?
Sal: Well, I just slipped from the stairs and landed right on my hand.
Doc: Smirks... Come on? I mean, okay sure.
Sal: What's the smirk for?
Doc: Well, I do understand that pro wrestlers go through injuries all the time, and it's not an easy job. But to me, this looks a bit more than that.
Sal: More than that? What do you mean?
Doc: See, Sal, I am a professional, and I know the difference between suicidal injuries and match injuries.
Sal: You think I did this (While raising the injured hand) on purpose?
Doc: Well, I have some meetings to attend at the moment. But consider your mental health a bit more seriously. (Sal gets alert after listening to that.) We will WhatsApp you your X-rays, and don’t compete if you’re not okay.
The Freaky Darius was forged in hardship, and he’s convinced that adversity is something to embrace, not escape. He sees himself as a warrior, hardened by life, and views vulnerability as weakness. In his eyes, therapy is for the fragile—his only way forward is to fight. Time, he believes, builds the strength needed to battle inner demons. While this mindset reflects a classic case of toxic masculinity, it’s also the only approach that’s ever seemed to work for him. But Darius, the self-proclaimed King of the World of Hearts, has yet to realize that pro wrestling is just a stage—real life demands more than brute strength. If he doesn’t learn to separate his persona from his personal reality, he may end up fighting the wrong battles.
He places a palm over his face, eyes shut tight, sinking into a heavy cloud of regret, frustration, and confusion. Sal drifts inward, lost in thought, almost slipping into a dreamlike trance.
A vivid memory surfaces—he sees himself as a child, dressed in a school uniform, the heat of summer break just around the corner. A gang of bullies surrounds him, laughing as they smear glue into his hair. He comes home humiliated, the sticky mess clinging to his scalp like a reminder of helplessness. His mother helps clean it, but instead of comfort, she blames him. His father, cold and firm, tells him to fight back. That day, a belief was etched deep into young Darius’s soul: no one’s coming to save you—you fight, or you fall.
After the summer break, he returned with a new instinct. When he spotted one of the bullies, he struck—spinning his school bag with its wheels straight into the kid’s head. Again. And again. He didn’t stop until other children pulled him away.
The final frame of that memory snaps him back. Sal blinks, hand still on his face, realizing he’s sitting in a clinic, haunted by something that happened over two decades ago.
He mutters to himself, “Phew... I get it now. Even if that fire isn’t in me the way it used to be, I still have to keep moving. This isn’t the end of the world. I’ve still got to get that X-ray... and honestly, I’ll probably rip this damn wrap off my hand sooner than later.”
The dreadful night finally gives way to morning. Sal wakes from a deep, heavy sleep. Light filters through the curtains as he slowly sits up, eyes locking onto his wrapped hand resting on the blanket. He stares at it in silence, then mutters under his breath, voice low and cracked:
“You better heal up quick, my boy… ’Cause I’m taking you with me—healed or broken.”
He exhales sharply, the kind of breath that carries both pain and resolve. Then he throws the sheets off and gets up.
The day unfolds in a haze until a notification lights up his phone. He checks it absentmindedly—until he sees the headline:
“SCW: Taking Hold of the Flame – Entry #20: Sal Darius.”
For a second, time stands still. He rubs his eyes, double-checks the screen… it’s real.
Sal clenches his jaw, feeling the throb of pain in his hand as he grips the phone tighter. He swallows it—just like he always has. No complaints. No fear. Just forward. As soon as Sal sets his phone aside, it buzzes again, vibrating against the table like an unwanted reminder. He glances at it but doesn’t reach. He refuses to let bad news shake his focus before a match.
The screen lights up: Dr. Adam.
Sal’s jaw tightens. Fuck.
He picks it up, hesitates, and finally taps to open the message. A snapshot of his X-ray loads slowly on the screen. He studies it, fingers instinctively zooming in to examine the knuckles—dark shadows, slight swelling, but no fracture lines through the joints. The hand’s battered, yes. But not broken.
The doctor’s message reads: “Mild Boxer’s Fracture. Rest recommended, but no long-term damage if protected. Up to you.”
Sal stares at the screen, then at his hand. The wrap feels tighter now, but his focus is sharper. He locks the phone, sets it down, and whispers, “Good enough.” Because pain doesn’t scare him. Distraction does. And nothing, not even a hairline fracture is pulling him out of this match.