Glory Braddock vs. Cid Turner

[Konrad Raab]

SCW World Championship

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm Saturday, November 1, 2025

[Cid]

PART ONE

[Braddock]

1 of 2
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October 25th, 2025
Roslin, Scotland
Off Camera
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The time for talk has ended and the time for action has come. Glory Braddock has fought, scratched, and clawed since Taking Hold of the Flame to prove her point; that she did not need to take any perceived shortcuts, that she could earn number one contender status by going on a tear through the entire SCW roster. After defeating anyone and everyone placed before her, and winning some challenging contests against some up and coming stars like Waylon Creek and Ryan LeCavalier, The British Bombshell Glory Braddock has now earned a chance to compete for the SCW World Championship at Under Attack against the cinderella like champion Cid Turner. It would be easy to overlook the champion. He has been on an unlikely run, one that arguably should have been over long ago. Some might even say that his reign never should have happened in the first place, let alone continue on through Rise To Greatness, past Apocalypse, and now to Under Attack. The unlikely underdog of a champion has gone through Giovanni Aries, Xander Valentine, Selena Frost, and Amelia Nevdo. Perhaps those other challengers did overlook the veteran? Unlike them, Glory Braddock overlooks no one. The British Bombshell takes every opponent seriously and, despite the accusations from Cid, Braddock is and always has been entirely focused on the one goal; defeating Turner to become SCW World Champion. Braddock has had multiple opportunities to become champion in SCW but has always come up short. Her one SCW World Title reign came as a result of a Trios Cash In and didn’t last but a few minutes thanks to that very same Trios Cash In. Why would Glory Braddock overlook Cid Turner when she really has no reason to? The pressure is on her to prove that she can win the big one when it counts. The pressure is on her to finally put an end to Cid’s cinderella run and she does not intend to mess this one up.

In times like these, when The British Bombshell is in a big match with high stakes, she always returns home to her roots. It is here, in her native home of the United Kingdom, where she can get her mind straight, where she can get fully focused and ready for the task and challenge at hand. It is good, therefore, that Braddock had already moved back to England with her husband Kurt Logan. The move wasn’t just for professional reasons, though. Glory Braddock had made this move for deeper, more personal reasons. The British Bombshell had long been doubting herself. She had long thought that she had forgotten who she really was, that she lost a piece of herself. Perhaps here, in her home, she could remind herself of who she was? Perhaps here she could remember what really makes her Glory Braddock? She intends to fully immerse herself in her old lifestyle that she grew up in order to reclaim that fire, that passion, and that intensity that made her who she was. Part of that included living in a far simpler home with a far simpler lifestyle than the current lap of luxury she and Kurt are used to in her adopted home of Miami, Florida. In the process of getting to know her old neighborhood Glory and Kurt ran into a young homeless kid named John, being bullied by other neighborhood kids. Something deep in Glory’s heart tugged at her, voices in her heart and soul told her to get involved and help the kid. Despite Kurt’s reluctance, Glory did get involved and she did help John.

That one act of kindness made her feel good and, what’s more, it made her feel a little closer to her old self. It helped her reconnect to her roots. Being Glory Braddock is about more than just being a great wrestler, it’s about helping people. Helping John certainly made her feel good but it wasn’t enough. Braddock cannot help but feel that more needs to be done to help John. Finding one homeless kid on the streets of London, England is damn near an impossibility. Yet Glory is not without resources. She knows of one person who might could help; her younger sister, Julia Braddock, who owns and operate an organization headquartered in Roslin, Scotland that helps with the homeless and those with addictions. If anyone can potentially help locate this kid, it is Julia. Besides, it is high time that Glory paid her younger sister a visit.

The rain had come and gone in Roslin, leaving behind a sky the color of pewter and streets that shimmered faintly under the dim afternoon light. The Julia Foundation sat on the edge of the village, its sandstone façade warmed by the occasional break in the clouds. The building was modest but elegant, an old parish hall converted into offices and community rooms, a place that felt lived in, hopeful, and human. From the outside, one could hear the faint hum of life: the laughter of volunteers, the scrape of chairs, the low buzz of a kettle boiling somewhere down the corridor. Inside, the scent of fresh coffee mingled with paper and rain-damp wool. Glory Braddock stood by the window of her sister’s office, arms folded loosely over her chest, watching droplets roll down the glass. She looked out toward the distant line of trees that marked the beginning of the woods, their leaves now golden and bronze, bowing under the wind. Her reflection stared back faintly in the windowpane; blonde hair slightly tousled, her expression thoughtful, maybe even restless. She looked nothing like the powerhouse executive or battle hardened wrestler and perhaps future SCW World Champion most of the world knew. Today, in her worn jeans, dark green hoodie, and trainers, she could have been mistaken for a hiker waiting for the weather to clear.

The office itself was warm and inviting. A soft tartan rug stretched beneath a large oak desk with a computer, and the walls were lined with photographs of smiling faces, each one capturing a story of recovery, of lives pieced back together through the Foundation’s work. On one side, a corkboard overflowed with handwritten thank you notes and letters from people who’d found shelter or purpose here. Behind The British Bombshell, Serena Grace sat perched on the edge of a cushioned chair, flipping absently through a stack of pamphlets on the desk. At twenty, Serena was the picture of poised youth, long chestnut hair falling in soft waves, a cream-colored dress that caught the light when she moved, and a string of pearls that seemed almost too old-fashioned for someone her age. She had an air of practiced grace about her, the kind that came from both Julia’s guidance and her own quiet determination to be seen as capable and kind. Her movements were delicate; crossing one leg over the other, adjusting a bracelet, glancing at her reflection in the window’s faint glare. Every detail of her posture spoke of composure, but there was curiosity in her eyes whenever she glanced toward Glory. The contrast between them couldn’t have been sharper: the tomboy aunt in her casual clothes and rough-edged demeanor, and the polished, feminine niece who could have stepped out of a magazine cover for kindness and charity. The low hum of rain against the roof seemed to echo their silence. Somewhere down the hall, a kettle clicked off, followed by the soft chatter of volunteers in the break room. The sound of footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway outside; heels, quick and light, a rhythm Glory knew immediately. She straightened subtly, pushing her hands into her pockets, her face settling into the neutral calm she always wore before serious talks. Serena noticed too, glancing toward the door, her fingers tightening on the pamphlet she held.

“You better get going, Serena.” Glory remarks with an urgency in her voice. Serena’s face drops, seemingly disappointed.

“Awwww but I wanna watch!”

“But your mom is going to be pissed.” The British Bombshell smirks. “Do you want her mad at you?”

“No…”

“Then you better leave.” Glory winks. “Don’t worry, though, you’ll get to see everything. I got my camera phone ready to record it all.”

“Awesome!” Serena exclaims. “Thanks Aunt Glory!”

“No, thank YOU!” Glory approaches Serena as she stands up and they hug. “Thanks for helping me set this all up!”

“Glad I could help.”

“Now run along before you get caught.”

Serena Grace quickly nods her head before turning and making her hasty retreat through the frosted glass door. The British Bombshell, meanwhile, returns to her seat and waits patiently for her sister’s imminent arrival. Braddock smiles briefly before quickly wiping that smile off of her face. To pull this off, she knows she has to act casual, act normal, act as if nothing is wrong.

Then the door handle turned with a soft click, and the warm light of the corridor spilled into the office. Julia Braddock entered with her usual brisk energy, a folder tucked under her arm and a smile already forming on her lips. The scent of lavender trailed faintly behind her, a comforting note amid the faint chill that lingered in the air. Glory shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the corner of her mouth curving in the faintest suggestion of a grin.

“Gloria, I was told you had stopped by for a visit.” Julia smiles warmly. Glory stands up and greets her sister with a hug. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“No real reason, really.” Glory lies. “I just wanted to see my favorite sister.”

“Glad to know I outrank Sophie.”

“Sophie is my favorite half-sister.” Glory snickers. Julia rolls her eyes.

“Funny.”

“You can’t deny she is our sister, Julia.” Glory points out. Julia shakes her head.

“Wrong. I can deny it all I want and you can’t stop me.” Julia steps away from her older sister and approaches her desk. “But I seriously doubt you came here to my workplace just to debate our feelings about Sophie?”

“Well I do wish you would accept her as the sister that she is and be willing to let it become public knowledge, but that is a debate we can have another time.”

“Good, because…” Julia sits down in her plush swivel chair at her oak desk, or at least she attempts to. As soon as Julia puts any weight on the chair, it plummets all the way to the floor “...woah! What the heck?!” Julia looks befuddled and confused. Then she hears the laughter, namely her older sister laughing. Julia narrows her eyes in an angry glare.

“You!”

“Me!” Glory takes a playful bow. “The Mistress of Mayhem, Glory The Prankster is back!”

“Just what I need in my life.” Julia shakes her head. “Another headache…” Julia reaches up to her computer. Currently the screensaver is on so she wriggles the mouse. Instantly Julia’s eyes grow wide, first with shock then with anger. Her wallpaper has been replaced with baby pictures. Again she turns her anger towards Glory, who again is busting a gut in laughter “...again!”

“You were such a beautiful little baby!”

“I assume you did this too?!” Julia accuses her. Glory nods her head.

“Bloody right I did!” The British Bombshell says proudly.

“Do you realize how much of a pain in the ass you are?” Julia asks. “This practical joker persona of yours, its a pain in the ass.”

“Yes, I have heard that before.” Glory winks playfully.

“So is that why you ventured back to Europe?” Julia asks. “I heard you were trying to find yourself. If all you found was your love of pissing people off then congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

“Well I DID come back to find myself but it wasn’t just to find my old practical joker persona.” Glory sits back down. A snicker escapes her lips. “Though I gotta admit, I forgot how much fun it is!”

“Yes and I forgot how annoying it was…until now. I certainly remember now.” Julia remarks sarcastically.

“Oh calm down, Julia. You know I love you. Right?” Glory says, smiling warmly. “Its all in good fun.”

“Yes, I do.” Julia sighs. “I’m sorry. I know how important this is for you. I know how important it is for you to find yourself and part of that is finding that…annoying prankster.” Julia smiles warmly. “I also remember that you always were happier when you were this fun loving tomboyish prankster, long before the corporate wars and the cutthroat wrestling industry sort of drove it out of you.”

“It wasn’t driven out of me, I just forgot.”

“Well don’t forget about it again.” Julia says. “You are clearly happy again and I like seeing you happy.”

“Even if it is at your expense?” Glory says playfully. Julia sighs and nods her head.

“Yes, even at my expense. Though I would prefer you target the people you work with. Don’t you have a World Title Match coming up against Cid Turner?” Julia asks. Glory nods her head. “Brilliant. Make something…brownies, muffins, something…lace them with strong laxatives, make sure he eats one.”

“Now who is the prankster?” Glory smirks. “Not gonna happen though. First, Cid isn’t dumb enough to fall for that.”

“He allowed himself to be strung along by Holly Adams and Asher Hayes, wasn’t he?”

“Trust me, he’s NOT that dumb.” Glory insists. “And secondly, I want to beat Cid Turner legitimately, inside the ring, without any excuses. I definitely don’t want him or anyone whining that I became SCW World Champion for a second time because Cid shit himself in the center of the ring.”

“I don’t know, Glory,” Julia shrugs her shoulders, “you could just say you scared the shit out of him.”

The sisters share a hearty laugh. This definitely feels right, not just for Glory Braddock but for Julia. Even the younger Braddock sibling can sense a distinct difference in Glory Braddock. She does seem happier, more relaxed, and confident. This is the old Glory Braddock she grew up with.

“I’m just happy you are getting this title shot.” Julia remarks. “I know you worked hard for it.”

“I took a big risk to get it.” Glory says. “I stepped away from Taking Hold of the Flame, which some have argued is the quickest and easiest path to a title match. I pissed off the locker room in doing so but I did it because I bet on myself, I knew I could earn a shot at the SCW World Championship by simply winning my way to a title match and I did just that. Even one loss along the way could have ruined my reputation and standing in SCW. I might have never got a title shot again.”

“So make this one count.” Julia says.

“You bet I will.”

“Well I know you will, because you are too stubborn to quit, you won’t quit until you get what you want. I know that from growing up with you all your life.” Julia smirks knowingly. “I also know that you rarely, if ever, stop by to visit just to simply ‘catch up’ anymore.”

“I could.” Glory says, smiling sheepishly.

“You could but you don’t.” Julia folds her arms over her chest. “So let’s get down to business. What do you really want?”

“Uh…” Glory snickers “...you do realize how hard it is to take you seriously when you’re practically on the floor?”

“GLORY!”

“Sorry!” Glory chuckles softly. “Uh, you’re right, though, I did come here with some ulterior motives. I need your help, something only you can help me with.”

“The great Glory Braddock needs help, huh?” Julia says sarcastically. “I can’t wait to hear it.” Julia reaches over and finds a bottle of water. She pops the cap off and starts to drink, anxiously anticipating this story. Glory sighs.

“Look, it’s like you said, I came here, back to England, to find myself. The cutthroat corporate world, even the cutthroat wrestling world that we both grew up in, all of it managed to change me, and I’m not sure if it was for the better. I needed to come home and find myself, find out what really makes me…well…me!” She laughs softly. “The jokes came easy.”

“Obviously.” Julia rolls her eyes.

“But there’s more to me than just being a tomboy, or being a practical joker, or even being a professional wrestler. I help people. I go out of my way to help people.”

“Let me guess, you found a new hopeless cause?”

“He isn’t hopeless.” Glory shakes her head. “But he is homeless. Kurt and I were walking through a park and we saw him being bullied by some other kids. We stepped in and helped him.”

“Did saving him from the bullies help you find yourself?” Julia asks. Glory nods her head.

“It did. It really did. I really felt good. I felt accomplished. But I just have this gnawing feeling that I’m not done.”

“So you want me to find him?”

“Can you?” Glory asks. “This is obviously your field. The Julia Foundation deals with this kind of situation all the time. Surely you have connections that could lead you to finding him and helping him.” Glory sighs. “Or at least you could show me some areas where he might be and I can look myself.”

“You really are worried about him, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” Glory’s voice trails off. Julia sighs and nods her head.

“Look, obviously this is important to you but you fail to realize what you are getting yourself into. The homeless population is immense. There’s no way to save them all. As much as this organization would like to save them all, even I have to admit that we can’t.”

“Just this one kid.” Glory asks pleadingly. “That’s all I ask.”

“Fine. What’s his name?”

“John.”

“That’s it?” Julia asks. “That’s all you got for me?!”

“Sorry.” Glory says, smiling sheepishly. “I can give you a description if you like?”

It would help, yes, but even then I doubt I can find him.” Julia shakes her head. “I want to brace you for a probable disappointment because it is highly unlikely that we will find him. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“I get it.” Glory sighs as she slumps over in her chair, placing her head in her hands. “Thanks for at least attempting, though.”

“Like I said, I will try but I make no promises.” Julia remarks. “Where did you find this kid anyway?”

“South London.” Glory says. “Near a park.”

“Well if you want my expert opinion, I would suggest starting in that neighborhood.” Julia states. “Many homeless are transient, they move from place to place depending on changes in their situation. But how long has John been there? Obviously we don’t know. It might be a good idea to at least eliminate that area right away. You and Kurt could look around, see if you can find him again. If, after a few days he doesn’t turn up, we could logically eliminate South London as his location and I could start looking elsewhere.”

“That makes sense.” Glory sighs as she leans back in her chair. “Kurt doesn’t like this idea. He thinks its dangerous.”

“It is.” Julia points out bluntly. “You never know who you might encounter.” Julia smirks. “Just ask your future son-in-law.”

“Clyde?!” Glory exclaims. Julia snickers and nods her head.

“He was once homeless. He roamed those streets. He knows all too well of the dangers. Hell, he might be able to help you find this kid better than I could.”

“I’m going to use that bloke as a last resort.” Glory retorts.

“You do have another option or two.”

“What’s that?” Glory asks curiously.

“All of our wealthy friends. You know? Your mean girl clique, Frances and Melody?”

“Frances and I aren’t exactly on good terms.” Glory shakes her head. “But Melody…”

“Is wealthy. Very wealthy. Actually, she’s doubly wealthy because she married Matthew Taylor, Frances’s brother, and that family is very wealthy. Melody and Matthew, both childhood friends of yours, are a very wealthy couple and have tons of resources at their disposal, probably more than what I have.”

‘Yeah, I could do that…” Glory nods her head, clearly she is giving this serious consideration.

“Besides, it helps you in another matter; you want to help find yourself, right? The real you? Melody was a huge part of your life. So was Matthew. It would be good for you to reconnect with them.”

Glory Braddock nods her head in agreement. She rises up to her feet, holding out her arms for a hug. Julia tries to get up but a loud tear is heard. She looks down at the chair and then at her skirt. A large blotch of black double sided tape that matches the chair is attached to her skirt. Julia looks back at Glory who is doubled over in laughter.

[Cid]

TWOOOOOO

[Braddock]

2 of 2
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October 27th, 2025
Birmingham, England
Off Camera
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The late afternoon sun drifted lazily through the wide bay windows of the Taylors’ Birmingham home, painting the living room in warm, golden tones. The light caught the edges of crystal decanters on a sideboard and shimmered across the surface of the glass coffee table where three half-finished drinks sat. Outside, the trimmed hedges and quiet cul-de-sac gave no hint of the life and laughter inside; a cozy hum that came from the easy rhythm of old friends who had known one another far too long to ever need to pretend. Glory Braddock sat sunk comfortably into one end of the cream colored sofa, one leg propped over the other, her boot tapping absently to a rhythm in her head. She wore a simple black T-shirt, a flannel button-down hanging loosely over it, faded jeans, and a pair of trainers that had definitely seen better days. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face, giving her a rugged sort of charm. She looked relaxed, more than she had in months, her guard lowered just enough for the tomboy warmth beneath the steel of her usual composure to show through.

The air smelled faintly of whiskey and lemon, with a touch of expensive perfume drifting from the opposite armchair. Melody Murphy sat cross-legged, one arm draped along the back of her chair, the picture of comfortable sophistication. She hadn’t changed much since their teenage years in London, still radiating that effortlessly polished energy that used to make heads turn and teachers sigh. Her blonde hair was styled in soft curls that brushed her shoulders, and she wore a pale blue blouse that shimmered subtly in the light. Matthew Taylor sat beside her on the loveseat, glass in hand, brown hair slightly tousled. He was dressed in casual rolled sleeves, open collar, watch gleaming against his tanned wrist. His easy charm filled the spaces between the women’s words, his presence grounding the energy of the room the way it always had. The three of them made an unlikely but perfectly balanced trio: Glory, blunt and rough edged; Melody, poised and radiant; Matthew, smooth and steady. The years had stretched and reshaped their lives, but when they were together like this, the old rhythm returned; the teasing, the laughter, the way one could finish another’s thought without effort.

The living room reflected Melody’s taste entirely; spacious, elegant, and curated with the kind of quiet confidence that money could afford but warmth could not fake. Soft beige walls were broken by framed travel photographs each with Melody and Matthew smiling in the foreground. The furniture was modern, all clean lines and gentle curves, accented by the glow of a large chandelier above. A low fire flickered in the fireplace even though it wasn’t cold, more for the ambiance than the heat, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls. The clink of ice in a glass punctuated the murmur of conversation. Glory leaned forward, reaching for the bottle of Scotch on the table, her movements unhurried and sure, like someone perfectly at home despite the polished surroundings. She poured herself a modest measure, then topped off Matthew’s glass at his nod before settling back into her seat.

“You know, Glory, not that I’m complaining, I mean, I love having you back in England, but I find it odd that you are back here when you have a championship match coming up in Minneapolis?” Melody says after sipping on her drink. “Shouldn’t you be there training or something?” She winks. “Or is Cid Turner right? Are you overlooking him? Are you focused on something else?”

“Cid may be a good champion but he’s lost his bloody marbles if he thinks I have lost my focus.” Glory states boldly. “Just ask Matty. I do my best work here in England where I grew up. When the spotlight is at its brightest, when the pressure is on, I always come home here to train. I come here to get focused and get my mind right.”

“She’s right, babe.” Matthew says, downing a big gulp of his drink. “For big matches she always comes back to her old man’s stomping grounds to prep.”

“And there isn’t a bigger match than this one.” Glory reiterates. “I fought hard to earn this championship match, but I also took a big gamble. Sure, I got the title match, but it will be for nothing if I don’t win. I have to beat Cid Turner. It’s all or nothing.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Glory.” Melody says with a purr. “I know how good you are. I also know how much needless pressure you put on yourself. You’re just like your father.”

“Oh well that’s actually good to hear.” Glory snickers. “In fact, that’s part of why I wanted to come back to England in the first place; to reconnect with my father’s memory.”

“Liar.” Matthew quips. “You came back because you are clearly attracted to me.”

“Matty, mate, the only thing about you that I am attracted to is making your life miserable.”

The two old friends share a laugh. Melody shakes her head in disbelief. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“It’s all in good fun, love.” Glory answers. “This is how me and Matty always interact.”

“It’s true!” Matthew answers as he finishes the last big gulp of his drink and slamming it down on a nearby table. “Our friend the corporate mover and shaker best wrestler in the world here used to be quite the practical joker growing up. We would prank each other all the time.” He snickers. “It was great!”

“Yeah, it was.” Glory nods her head in agreement. “Maybe it will be again after I rediscover myself?”

“I hope so.” Matthew says. “The current version of you is boring. So tell us, how is that rediscovery thing going?”

“Well…” Glory’s voice trails off and a wide ear to ear grin, a look of mischief, forms on her face “...how many glasses have you had, mate?”

“Several.” He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “Why do you…” as if on cue his eyes grow wide, bulging out of his head. Glory points at him playfully as his eyes seemingly grow even bigger and a look of disgust form on his face.

“And there it is.”

Matthew leaps up and charges out of the room. Melody looks genuinely concerned for his well-being but Glory Braddock, his best friend, is laughing her ass off. Melody looks over at Glory, thoroughly confused.

“What was that?!”

“Oh he’ll be fine.” Glory insists. “But he’ll be in the bathroom for a moment. Those laxatives are kicking in.”

“Laxatives?!” Melody seems stunned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I supposed I will have to look over my shoulder now. Ol’ Matty will be looking to pay me back. That’s how it works.”

“You two have an odd friendship.” Melody sighs. “But I do love seeing you like this.”

“Making your husband shit his pants?”

“No! Not that!” Melody motions to Glory herself. “This! Your clothes! Jeans and a tee…you as a tomboy just seems right.”

“You know, you used to make fun of me for being a tomboy.” Glory winks.

“And I was wrong.” Melody admits. “The thing is, I was jealous of you. You always were comfortable enough in you brown skin to just be whoever the hell you wanted to be and didn’t give a damn about society’s standards. You didn’t let wealth define who you had to be.”

“Funny you should say that,” Glory sighs and shakes her head “I fear my own wealth, specifically the success of my company, I fear it has gone and corrupted me.”

“Nonsense.” Melody shakes her head.

“I’m serious. I fear I’ve lost my way. That’s why I came back to England. I need to rediscover myself. Hell, I’ve even thought of selling my company, selling my home in Miami, and just staying here in England.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Why not?” Glory insists. “Obviously this brief stint so far in England has brought out the best in me, the old me; the tomboy, the prankster, the practical Glory Braddock. Maybe I should just stay here and live this more simplistic lifestyle permanently.”

“You can if you want.” Melody sips on her drink. “But I wouldn’t rush to judgment, I wouldn’t make any rash decisions if I were you.”

“Now you sound like Kurt.” Glory chuckles.”

“Your husband is right, though.” Melody says. “Money is not the root of all evil. The LOVE of money is the root of all evil. Money can do great things. Just look at what your sister did with her wealth; she created The Julia Foundation and helps homeless people and addicts all over Europe.” She points at Glory. “And you use your money to keep your father’s wrestling school alive, specifically focusing on people who need a chance, who need an opportunity.”

“My dad’s wrestling school…” Glory muses out loud. Melody nods her head.

“Yes, the best. And so many people have benefited from the opportunities he, and now you, have gifted them through the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School. You really want to throw all of that away?”

“I suppose you make a good point.” Glory nods her head. “You also gave me an idea.”

“Oh really?”

Before Glory can proceed, Matthew comes staggering back into the room. He is panting, heaving, and clutching his ass cheeks in pain. Glory starts laughing hysterically. The sight of her husband in this predicament even brings Melody to laughter. Matthew looks at Glory and, despite it all, smirks.

“Just watch yourself, Glory…I will have my revenge…”

“Bring it on, mate.” Glory answers. “I’ll be waiting.”

==========
November 1st, 2025
Minneapolis, MN
On Camera
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The morning air in Minneapolis carried a quiet chill, the kind that hinted winter wasn’t far behind even though the sun was bright and clear. The sky above the city was a flawless pale blue, vast and cold, stretching over the angular silhouette of the US Bank Stadium like a piece of glass. Its dark steel panels and immense sheets of reflective glass towered behind her, catching the sunlight in sharp glints that shimmered across the empty plaza below. The hum of the city was distant and the air smelled faintly of metal, concrete, and the crisp bite of autumn. Glory Braddock stood near the edge of the plaza, the shadow of the great building falling partly across her. She looked both small and striking against the modern architecture, an unmistakable figure of confidence and quiet authority. Her hands rested loosely on her hips, shoulders squared, the faintest breeze tugging strands of blonde hair free from her ponytail. She wasn’t dressed for glamour. Her look was casual but purposeful, every piece chosen for practicality and comfort rather than polish. She wore a fitted black leather jacket, slightly scuffed at the edges, over a gray V-neck T-shirt that clung softly to her athletic frame. Her jeans were dark, well-worn, and tucked neatly into a pair of brown ankle boots that had clearly seen their share of travel. Around her wrist, a simple silver watch gleamed faintly in the sunlight. No jewelry otherwise, no makeup meant to impress.

The wind brushed lightly through her hair, lifting it just enough to catch the light. Behind her, the massive glass walls of the stadium reflected the city skyline. The plaza beneath her boots stretched wide and empty, its pale stone tiles glinting faintly where thin puddles from last night’s rain still lingered. Each step she took echoed softly, swallowed quickly by the open air. The setting felt monumental, almost sacred in its stillness. The massive purple “Vikings” signage loomed high above, a silent emblem of spectacle and competition. It was fitting somehow—Glory, the woman whose life had been built on competition, whose journey to this championship match at Under Attack was a competition unlike any other, standing alone before an arena that embodied everything she understood. A gust swept across the plaza, tugging at her jacket and stirring the hem of her shirt. She exhaled slowly, her breath visible for a fleeting moment before it vanished. The sunlight shifted slightly as a cloud passed overhead, softening the hard edges of the stadium’s steel and glass. Shadows lengthened across the ground, and for a brief instant, everything seemed still; the wind, the light, even the city itself. Glory’s expression barely changed, but there was a subtle tension in her stance now, the faint tightening of her jaw, a readiness in her eyes.

“I love how our SCW World Champion Cid Turner is trying to frame this narrative about me supposedly overlooking him. I laugh my ass off thinking about the mere notion of me, not focusing on him, not focusing on the actual SCW World Champion, and instead choosing to focus on the Snow Queen who suddenly thinks she’s God’s gift to professional wrestling.” Braddock feigns innocence, covering her hand with her mouth. “Oops, sorry about that, Cid. I didn’t mean to offend you by mentioning ol’ whatshername.”

“Actually, I take that back, I DO mean to offend you, because you clearly have no problems with offending me. I mean, you stand there all high and mighty with that championship and claim that I don’t have my head in the right place? Do you even know who the hell you are talking to? My name is Glory Braddock and I was born and raised in professional wrestling. My father taught me everything I needed to survive and thrive in the cutthroat world of professional wrestling. He is THE reason that I had the skills and knowledge to become a Supreme Champion in SCW. He taught my many things, Cid, and among those hard lessons he taught me was that you were only good as your last match and that anyone can beat you at anytime on any given night. No one is unbeatable, no one on this roster is untouchable.” The British Bombshell points a finger at the camera. “You would think YOU, of all people, would understand that. I mean, I KNOW you understand it because that is one of the biggest stories behind your fairy tale comeback in this company. First you made your surprise return at Taking Hold of the Flame. At this stage of your career no one would have expected you to win but you did!” Glory claps her hands. “Congratulations, Cid! That alone is a huge moment, but you didn’t stop there did you?”

“You were in the main event of Rise To Greatness against three of the best to ever do it; Giovanni Aries, Xander Valentine, and the woman whose name we shall NOT bring up in fear of offending you again. No one expected you to win and no would have looked down on you had you failed that night. Yet you won. You became SCW World Champion again and kept your fairy tale alive. That could have been it, that could have been the end for you and no one would have blamed you for stepping away but you didn’t. You wanted to defend that title like any proud champion should. Who was ready to step up? None other than Amelia Nevado. I know how damn good she is because we have went against each other before many times. She had the advantage with the Trios Contract of naming the time and place. By all rights your fairy tale should have ended then and there at Apocalypse but you beat her. You remain SCW World Champion.” Braddock chuckles softly.

“Now let me get this straight; you won Taking Hold of the Flame AND you turned back the challenge of not one, not two, not three, but four of the very best in SCW right now, and you think I am going to overlook all of that, overlook you, not focus on you?” Glory shakes her head. “You’re either crazy as hell or you just do not know who the hell I am. Anyone willing to allow themselves to be drug along the proverbial leash like a pet by Holly Adams might very well be crazy, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you really don’t know who I am? It’s fair. You seem to gravitate towards that SCW World Title conversation anytime you are active in this company whereas me? I admit that I am all over the place. I compete against anyone and everyone willing to take me on. I am willing to take on any challenge. Unfortunately I haven’t had nearly the amount of time in the World Title conversation as you. So allow me to take this time to fill you in on who the hell I am and just who the hell is going to defeat you at Under Attack, take that SCW World Championship away from you, and maybe, just maybe, send you packing for good.”

“I am the woman who took the biggest gamble of anyone else here in this company by betting on herself. I went against the grain, I went against the wisdom of the day, I opted out of Taking Hold of the Flame and chose the long and more difficult path to a World Title Match rather than the perceived quicker and easier option. If I had to run a gauntlet anyway, I would rather the damn gauntlet one match at a time. I told CHBK to throw as many people as he wanted to at me, that I would win my way to a championship match. From The European Fiery Nation to The Fall of Man and others, I went through them all. Even the supposedly unstoppable Waylon Creek was beaten by yours truly. Even ONE loss along this road would have ruined not only my reputation but my opportunity to become champion. I still took the risk because I believed in myself! Guess what, Cid? My gamble paid off because here I stand as the number one contender to the SCW World Championship. Yet the gamble isn’t over, because there is still the one single most important match, the one at Under Attack between me and you for that championship. Yes, THAT is the most important match, THAT was the goal, THAT was always the finish line. Everyone else I fought along the way was merely preparing me for this moment. See, Cid, if I lose to you, if I fail to become champion, then my gamble will have been for nothing. Everything I did, all the work, the blood, the sweat, and tears, all for nothing if this does not end with me crossing that finish line first as the NEW SCW World Champion.” Braddock glares at the camera.

“Why the hell would I not be focused entirely on you? Why would I be putting my time, energy, and focus on anyone else other than you? I pass many people in the locker room. I talk to them. I interact, sometimes positively sometimes not so positively. Sometimes I have to throw a punch, just like in the case of whatshername, but you can rest assured that ever since the announcement was made that I would be challenging you at Under Attack for the SCW World Title, that YOU had my full attention. Once I knew it would be me and you for the title, there was nothing else more important in my life at that moment than you, me, and that match. Do you think I want to be known as the person who had one of the shortest SCW World Title reigns in history? Do you think I want to be content with having busted my ass off to earn this title match only to come up short against you when it counts?” Glory shakes her head.

“No! I am done with having just that one short reign to my name and after all the hard work I put in to work my way here to this point I refuse to come up short again! So believe me, Turner, I am one hundred percent focused on you, on this match, and I will do absolutely anything it takes to put you down and become SCW World Champion for a second time! So does it sound like I care, Cid? Does it sound like I’m focused? Believe me, I am focused. I am more determined than ever before. I am ready to end your fairy tale run, I am ready to close the book on your comeback story.” She nods her head. “It has been an admirable run, it has been inspirational, but every story has to have its end, and not all of them end with a happily ever after. Your story ends with me choking you out and Phillips announcing AND NEW SCW WORLD CHAMPION…” she winks at the camera “...Glory Braddock.”

“Sic Semper Tyrannis, bitch.”