La Pequena Luz vs. Glory Braddock

[Kemal Yilmaz]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Saturday, August 8, 2026

[Braddock]

1 of 2
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July 27th, 2026
London, England
Off Camera
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The dark SUV rolled to a stop along the quiet residential street, its tires crunching softly against the curb. Glory Braddock killed the ignition and sat still for a few seconds, looking out the windshield at the three story Victorian house standing before her. This was the place where she had spent her childhood, where the floorboards used to creak in predictable patterns and the smell of her father’s damp canvas gear seemed perpetually trapped in the hallway walls. But even from the outside, the house looked drastically different. The old, chipped wooden door had been replaced by a sleek, dark oak entrance with polished chrome hardware. The original sash windows were gone, swapped for expansive, spotless panes of glass, and the front garden, once a chaotic patch of lawn kept barely contained by Glenn Braddock, was now a manicured display of slate paving and structured, modern greenery.

Glory opened her door and stepped out into the cool London air. She was dressed in her usual, uncompromisingly practical style, wearing a pair of faded, relaxed fit denim jeans that had seen plenty of miles, tucked into a pair of worn leather work boots. Over a plain dark gray crewneck t-shirt, she wore a heavy flannel overshirt with the sleeves pushed casually up to her forearms, revealing the strong, muscular lines of her arms. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a simple, loose ponytail, free of any product or styling. She looked ready to lift a stack of crates or step directly into a training ring, a stark contrast to the refined residential lane around her. She walked up the short stone path and reached out to press the sleek, modern doorbell button. Instead of the familiar, metallic clatter of the old chime, a soft, electronic chime sounded from deep within the house. Within moments, the heavy door swung smoothly open.

Julia Braddock stood in the entryway, framing a picture of effortless, high end sophistication. Glory’s younger sister had inherited their father’s tall frame, but that was where the obvious physical similarities ended. Julia’s dark blonde hair was styled into smooth, flawless waves that rested neatly over her shoulders. She wore a tailored ivory silk blouse that caught the ambient light of the hallway, paired with a fitted, high waisted pencil skirt in deep burgundy that fell just below her knees. On her feet were a pair of pristine leather pointed toe heels that added to her poised, immaculate posture. She looked as though she had just stepped off the set of a high fashion photo shoot or out of a private corporate boardroom, completely at ease in an environment defined by elegance. For a brief second, the two sisters simply looked at one another, the contrast between Glory’s tomboyish, utilitarian appearance and Julia’s refined femininity sharp and obvious in the soft afternoon light.

“Glory!” Julia said happily, a warm smile breaking across her polished features. She stepped forward, her heels clicking crisply on the floor, and wrapped her arms around her sister in a light, affectionate embrace. “I heard you were back in town for a few days!”

“The rumors are true.” Glory smirks knowingly.

“I’m happy they are.” Julia chuckles. “I’m glad to see you.”

“Likewise.” Glory replied with a faint smirk, pulling back to look Julia over. “Though I can't say the same for Dad's house.” Glory looks on at the childhood home judgingly. Julia laughed, a light, melodic sound, and gestured with a manicured hand for Glory to step inside.

“It's my house now, remember? And it was long overdue for an update.” She steps aside, allowing Glory easy access. “Now enough debate about the decor. Come in, come in.”

Glory stepped over the threshold, her heavy leather boots coming down on immaculate, light oak hardwood floors that had replaced the dark, scuffed planks of their childhood. She stood in the entryway, slowly taking in the transformation. Where there used to be a cramped coat rack overloaded with wet coats and leather gym bags, there was now a minimal floating console table crafted from dark marble, topped with a geometric vase filled with fresh white lilies. The air no longer smelled of Glenn’s old pipe tobacco or damp leather; instead, the space carried a subtle, clean fragrance of vanilla and crushed linen.

Glory followed her sister into the massive, open plan living area at the back of the house. Sun poured through floor to ceiling glass doors that overlooked a freshly landscaped patio. The old, sagging leather couches where they used to watch old wrestling tapes were gone. In their place sat a sweeping, modular sectional upholstered in light cream fabric, arranged around a low profile marble coffee table stacked with art books and pristine design journals. The old brick fireplace, once stained with soot and surrounded by piled firewood, had been refitted with a clean, ventless gas insert framed by smooth grey slate. Glory walked over to the edge of the sectional, running her hand along the back of the smooth fabric, hyper aware of the faint layer of road dust on her flannel shirt.

“It looks like a museum, Jules. Or a hotel.”

“It looks like a home built for adults,"

Julia countered gently, walking over to a built in wet bar in the corner. She poured two glasses of sparkling water from a glass carafe, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. She turned back and offered one glass to Glory, her pencil skirt shifting gracefully with her movement.

“Dad loved this place, but he lived like he was running a barracks. I wanted something clean. Something that felt like mine.”

Glory took the glass, taking a slow sip as her eyes swept over the room. High up on the main wall, where their father’s giant, framed regional championship banner used to hang, there was now a large piece of abstract modern art in soft tones of gold and slate. Below it, on a narrow floating shelf, sat three small, carefully selected silver picture frames. Glory stepped closer to look at them. One was a recent photo of Julia at a gala in London, looking stunning in a black evening gown. The second was a photo of their father from his later years, smiling warmly during a family holiday. The third was a small, faded black and white shot of Glory and Julia as young girls, sitting on the front steps of this very house, Glory dressed in oversized hand me down shorts with scraped knees, and Julia wearing a bright yellow dress that was already immaculate.

“It really is beautiful, Julia,” Glory admitted softly, her voice losing its defensive edge. “Different. But beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Julia smiled, leaning her shoulder lightly against her sister's arm, completely unbothered by the rough flannel fabric touching her pristine silk blouse. “Now, sit down on my impossibly clean sofa and tell me what you've been doing to yourself in the ring.”

“Wrestling is fairly straightforward.” Braddock states plainly. “It’s Rise To Greatness. And you know what that means?” The British Bombshell follows her sister towards the sofa. Julia sits down first followed by Glory herself.

“For you it means the same thing it always does; a must win situation.” Julia shakes her head. “You always were like dad in that sense. He viewed every match as a must win.”

“This is serious.” Glory states. “I’m taking on La Pequina Luz. I need to win if I want to keep any hopes of remaining in the world title discussion alive.”

“You could have just entered and won Taking Hold of the Flame.” Julia counters with a smirk.

“No, absolutely not.” She shakes her head. “It’s a shortcut and I am not about shortcuts. I am defined by competition. I want to earn my way into the title picture by defeating the best. Luz is among the best competitors in SCW. So yes, I need this win.”

“You will do fine, Glory.” Julia reassures her. “You always do. You perform at your best when you put yourself under such pressure.” She smirks. “That’s another trait you picked up from dad.”

“Well as fun as it is to see what you’ve done to dad’s house and listen to you tell me about the bad traits I picked up from dad, there is another reason I stopped by for a visit.” Glory sighs. “I definitely could use your advice.”

“Oh?” Julia arches a brow. “Something amiss with the great Glory Braddock?”

“Hush.” Glory states with a grin. “It’s about Cat.”

“Cat?”

Julia Braddock’s face suddenly goes from playful to serious. She knows Catalina De Luca all too well. She knows the De Luca Family just as well as Glory does, having grown up around them. Julia was one of many who had warned her older sister about bringing Catalina into the fold, hiring her to be her chief of staff and help her run the company.

“We’ve run into some problems, Jules.” Glory explains. “You know I went to great lengths to try and broker a peaceful co-existence between myself and the Alan Family loyalists on the Board of Directors. But recently I learned that Cat has been using her own tactics to force them out. Even Matthew Alan’s sister, Aurora Alan, has sold her minority share of the company back to me.”

“Ouch.” Julia winces. “So much for a peaceful co-existence.”

“I spoke to Cat and, honestly, I thought we had everything smoothed over, I explained to her what her role was meant to be, that she was just to enforce my vision and that was that. Nothing more and nothing less. I assumed that we had an understanding.”

“Based on how frustrated you sound, I am guessing that things didn’t work out?” Julia asks. Glory shakes her head.

“Nope. Did you hear about what happened at our dad’s wrestling school?”

“Sophie told me.” Julia nods her head. “Repair crews, painters, and new equipment being brought in. Was that all Cat?”

“Yes, all of it.” Glory says, sounding rather annoyed. “Instead of going to the trainers, the coaches, or even the manager I have installed there, to remodel and redo our dad’s legacy.” She shakes her head. “And it isn’t just the fact that they tried to paint over and redo our dad’s school. It’s more than that. These people are going straight to Cat for everything.”

“From what I heard, people at your company have been bypassing you a lot lately and going to Cat for everything.” Julia points out. “And with dad’s school under your corporate umbrella, it would stand to reason that Cat would try to influence it.”

“But it’s wrong!” Glory exclaims angrily. “Dad’s school! It is ours, Jules! Mine and yours! Our legacy!”

“To be fair, Glory,” Julia points a finger at her older sister “you wanted this. You wanted someone to handle business for you, you wanted someone to manage all of the corporate work not just so you could focus on your one true passion of professional wrestling but so you could avoid being corrupted by corporate politics.”

“But…”

“No…you brought in Cat and she is doing exactly what you asked her to do.”

“I’m a figurehead now.” Glory says quietly. “I’m no leader.”

“Again, that’s what you wanted.” Julia states plainly. “You wanted to just be a figurehead so you could focus on wrestling. If that’s what you want then just leave well enough alone, Cat is handling your dirty work for you. If you don’t like what she’s doing or if you don’t like the arrangement anymore and you want to take charge? Fire her.”

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July 31st, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
==========

The late afternoon Florida sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the private home office, casting broad, warm golden beams across the dark mahogany desk and the polished hardwood floor. Outside, the lush palm trees of the Miami estate swayed gently in the coastal breeze, a stark and vibrant contrast to the gray skies and cool mist Glory had left behind in London just days earlier. Glory sat back in her heavy leather executive chair, framed by the quiet luxury of the room. Built-in bookshelves lined the walls, filled with a mix of business literature, classic wrestling biography hardcovers, and framed memorabilia from her career. She had traded her travel attire for a simple, comfortable gray tank top and black athletic shorts, her long blonde hair gathered into a loose, low bun at the nape of her neck. On the desk before her sat an open laptop, surrounded by scattered notes, flight itineraries, and corporate financial summaries. Her elbows rested on the smooth wooden surface, her chin propped lightly on her hands as her dark eyes stared intently at the glowing screen, her mind still navigating the tangled web of company politics and upcoming title opportunities.

The heavy timber door to the office pushed open without a sound, breaking the absolute quiet of the room. Kurt Logan stepped inside, his quiet, grounded presence instantly filling the doorway. He was dressed casually in a fitted black short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans, highlighting his broad frame. His short black hair was neatly kept, and his calm, observant eyes immediately locked onto his wife. Taking in the tense line of her shoulders and the weary focus on her face, he let out a soft, understanding breath and crossed the room with easy, deliberate steps, coming to a stop just beside her desk.

“Everything ok, babe?” Kurt asks. “You’ve been stuck in her all morning and most of the afternoon.”

“I know.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

“I thought you hired Cat for that?” He points out with a knowing smile.

“Don’t talk about her right now.” Glory sighs out of frustration. “Honestly? I’m not cooped up in her just for that; I have split my time between corporate stuff and wrestling stuff.”

“Studying tape?” Kurt asks. Glory nods her head.

“Yep. I’m doing as much research as I can on Luz ahead of Rise To Greatness. I wanted to dissect every match, find her weaknesses, try to find something I can exploit when we meet one on one in the ring.” Braddock sighs. “But…I’ve been distracted…”

“Oh, I see.” Kurt smiles sheepishly. “Should I apologize for distracting you?”

“No, not at all, love.” Glory shakes her head. “It’s just that…” she casts a look over at her iphone, resting on the desk, and then back up at Kurt “...I received an e-mail just now.”

“From who?”

“A longtime employee.” Glory states. “Someone who had been with the company at its founding under Matthew Alan, when it was much smaller.”

“Is this another Matthew Alan loyalist Cat has decided to purge from your life?”

“That’s the thing, he wasn’t a loyalist of mine or Matt’s.” Glory shakes her head. “He was just an employee trying to make an honest living. He was just loyal to the company regardless of who was in charge.”

“So what happened?”

“He resigned.” Glory states.

“He quit? Why?”

“That’s the thing, I have no bloody clue.” Glory throws her arms up in the air out of frustration. “I got no letter of resignation, I got no call, nothing except the e-mail stating they were gone.” She narrows her brow. “Apparently he thought it was more proper to send his letter of resignation to Cat.”

“Oh…” Kurt’s voice trails off “...yeah, I see why that would sting a little.”

“Something feels off here, Kurt.” Glory insists. “When I ran things people came to me. If people quit, whether they got a better opportunity or whatever the reason, I wanted to speak to them personally, I wanted to thank them personally for their service to the company. When people had ideas for new projects they came to me. When employees disagreed with me they still came to me to air their grievances but now they don’t come to me for anything.” She shakes her head. “They go to Cat for everything.”

“But Glory…” Kurt gently places a hand on her shoulder “...you told them NOT to come to you. You placed Cat in the role she’s in to do exactly this, to serve this purpose, because you didn’t want to handle all of this. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I…” she sighs “...I thought it was. I’m not sure anymore.”

The silence that followed Kurt’s words felt heavy, settling over the sun-drenched office like a thick layer of dust. His hand remained a steady, comforting presence on her shoulder, but the truth of what he had spoken hung in the quiet air between them. Glory lowered her eyes back to the glowing laptop screen, staring at the terse resignation email that had shattered her focus. For weeks, she had convinced herself that stepping away from the corporate day-to-day was an act of preservation; a necessary defense mechanism to keep her mind clear, her spirit untainted by power, and her body ready for the brutal demands of the ring.

Yet, looking at the screen, the stark reality of her choices had finally caught up with her. In her desperate bid to avoid becoming a tyrant like those who came before her, she had inadvertently abdicated her throne entirely. The authority she thought she was merely delegating had been systematically swallowed up. Catalina had not just managed the business; she had quietly reshaped it, replacing Glory's carefully built culture of open dialogue and mutual respect with a cold, shielded bureaucracy where loyalty was bought, forced, or maneuvered. The employees no longer saw Glory as the leader who fought in their corner; they saw her as a distant figurehead, comfortably insulated while her Chief of Staff executed the dirty work in the shadows.

A cold, sharp clarity washed over Glory, cutting through the haze of frustration that had plagued her from London to Miami. The realization hit her with the force of a firm blow to the chest: you cannot hold the crown if you are afraid to touch the sword. By insulating herself from the ugly realities of leadership, she had relinquished the right to complain when those realities were handled by someone else’s ruthless hands. Catalina was doing precisely what she had been hired to do, operating in the gray areas that Glory had been too proud—or too terrified—to walk herself.

Glory reached out, her fingers slowly pressing the button to close her laptop. The screen went dark, reflecting her own resolute expression in the black glass. She leaned back against her chair, taking a deep, grounding breath of the warm Florida air. Her path forward was no longer about choosing between the ring and the boardroom, nor was it about hiding behind the legacy of her father or the calculated armor of Catalina De Luca. If she wanted her company to reflect her values, she would have to stand in the heat and command it herself, regardless of the personal cost.

Kurt gave her shoulder one last gentle squeeze before stepping back, sensing the shift in her energy without needing a single word of confirmation. Glory looked out the broad glass windows toward the swaying palms, her dark eyes narrowing with unbreakable resolve. The battle for her company’s soul would have to wait for another day, but the line was drawn.

[Braddock]

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August 3rd, 2026
Charlotte, NC
Off Camera
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The heavy glass doors swept open, welcoming “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock into the vast, gleaming atrium of the corporate headquarters. She wore a deep navy blue blazer, unbuttoned, over a simple black fitted crewneck shirt, paired with dark, tailored trousers that broke cleanly over heavy leather boots. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a slick, low ponytail, tight against her scalp, leaving the sharp, uncompromising angles of her face entirely exposed. The lobby was an expansive space framed by exposed white marble, floating steel staircases, and soaring glass walls. Usually, the main floor was a hive of controlled energy, filled with the steady hum of low conversations, the clatter of keyboards, and the purposeful movement of staff moving between floors. The moment Glory stepped across the threshold, a sudden, palpable hush fell over the room. The security guard behind the main desk, an older man who had worked the front desk since the early days under Matthew Alan, froze mid movement, his hand lingering over his logbook. His brow furrowed in genuine surprise, his dark eyes widening as he registered the sight of the company’s owner standing in the main lobby without a swarm of assistants or a scheduled arrival time on the master board. He swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably behind the desk, completely unsure of whether to offer a standard greeting or simply stay silent.

Glory did not pause. She adjusted the dark leather strap of her purse resting over her shoulder and began her walk across the polished marble floor toward the central bank of glass elevators. As she moved, the reactions of the surrounding staff rippled through the open atrium like a cold draft. A pair of junior executives standing near the espresso bar stopped their conversation instantly, their coffee cups hovering halfway to their lips. One of them, a young woman in a sharp gray suit, blinked in sheer confusion, her eyes darting quickly toward the side corridors as if looking for Catalina De Luca or a corporate handler to explain why Glory was here unannounced. The other, a young man who had joined the marketing division only months prior, looked visibly nervous, his posture stiffening as he instinctively took a small step backward, clutching his leather binder tightly against his chest. The shift in the room was subtle yet profound. These were the people who had grown accustomed to Glory being a ghost in her own building, a legendary name spoken in boardrooms and seen on promotional banners, but rarely a physical presence walking the halls. For months, Catalina had served as the buffer, the enforcer, and the sole face of executive decision making. Glory’s sudden, solitary appearance was an unexpected disruption to the rigid, quiet hierarchy that Catalina had established.

Two mid level accountants coming off the open mezzanine staircase slowed their pace, watching her from above with guarded, wide eyed curiosity. Whispers began to rustle along the edges of the room, faint and hurried, passed beneath breath between cubicles and glass walled conference rooms. The employees looked at her not with the familiar warmth of a leader who regularly walked among them, but with the cautious, uncertain tension reserved for an unpredictable force. They were confused by her unannounced visit, nervous about what her presence signaled, and deeply uncertain of where the real power in the building actually rested.

“Well hello everyone.” Glory says, her voice bright and warm. “Everyone doing well?”

“Uh, yeah, great Ms. Braddock.”

“Fi…fine. Just great.”

“Yea…yeah. Just…just fine.”

The British Bombshell can tell based on their stuttering that they are not fine or great. This was unexpected. She caught them off guard, which is what she had planned. And if she caught them off guard, then she likely caught Catalina off guard. Glory Braddock smiles knowingly as she approaches a secretary’s desk. The secretary, a young woman with brown hair, looks up at Braddock; she, like the others, seem surprised and nervous.

“Hello, Mary.”

“Uh, hi, Ms. Braddock.”

“Glory.” Braddock says. “Call me Glory.”

“Right, Glory.” Mary says, correcting herself. “What can I do for you?”

“Is Cat in her office?”

“Ms. De Luca?”

“Yes, her. Is she in?”

“Yes, but…”

“Great.”

Mary started to raise a hand, her lips parting as if to offer a warning or check an official schedule, but Glory didn't wait to hear the rest of the sentence. With a smooth, dismissive nod, she bypassed the desk entirely, her heavy leather boots clicking with rhythmic, uncompromising authority against the polished floor. The surrounding staff watched in stunned silence as the company’s owner glided past the administrative checkpoint, carving a path through the top-floor corridor toward the corner office at the end of the hall.

The frosted glass doors of Catalina’s executive suite stood closed, a symbol of the quiet, insulated power De Luca had cultivated over the past few months. Glory didn't bother to knock. Reaching out with a firm grip, she pushed the heavy double doors open, letting them swing wide without hesitation. The sudden movement broke the muted hush of the room, instantly commanding the space before she even stepped across the threshold.

Inside, the grand corner office was immaculate, flooded with bright North Carolina sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Charlotte skyline. Catalina sat behind an expansive, clutter-free glass desk, looking every bit the poised executive in a tailored cream suit. At the unexpected intrusion, De Luca’s dark eyes flashed with a brief, sharp flicker of surprise before her practiced corporate mask smoothly slipped back into place. She slowly set down her gold pen, leaning back in her leather armchair as Glory stepped inside, letting the heavy doors settle quietly behind her.

“Glory?!”

“That’s my name, Cat.” She smirks as she walks over and sits down on Cat’s desk. “Don’t wear it out.”

“Well, I…” Cat is shocked, speechless, to see her friend turned employer sitting here in her office “...uh, yeah, it’s great to see you, Glory. But you could have called or let me know you were coming.”

“Do I need to do that kind of thing from now on?” Glory asks curiously. “I mean, this is MY company still. I didn’t think I had to get permission from anyone to visit my own company.”

“Yes, well…”

“Speaking of permissions, from what I have heard through the grapevine, just about every single person out there has to run everything by you now.”

“It’s a structured communications setup, that’s all.” Cat explains nervously. “Every major decision goes through me first, it keeps messaging unified and prevents confusion.”

“But does it keep MY vision from going forward?” Glory asks. “Back in London I happened to stumble upon some contractors who were trying to paint and remodel my dad’s wrestling school.” She snickers. “And lo and behold I found out YOU authorized that.”

“Right…” Cat sighs and nods her head “...I admit, I did authorize a renovation of the Braddock Wrestling School, but…”

“No!” Glory snaps back. “That building has a particular feel and character to it, a character my dad built. He would never have wanted it remodeled as drastically as you planned, Cat.”

“Would you shut up and listen to me for a second?!” Cat exclaims. “The renovation wasn’t my idea.”

“Huh?” Glory looks confused. Cat shakes her head.

“Someone brought it to my attention that it might need an upgrade and a remodeling and presented some ideas. I gave it the green light but that’s it. And I signed off on it only because I thought you might like it.” She sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Ok, fine, I can excuse the crap at the Braddock Wrestling School.” Glory snaps back. “But you still have been overstepping your bounds.”

“Have I?” Cat asks. “I recall you telling me how the corporate life overwhelms you and, at worse, corrupts you. You wanted someone to take on the corporate life in your stead and maintain your vision for the company so that you can focus on your true passion: professional wrestling. That is ALL I have been doing. Now apparently I have been making a few mistakes and have not been getting your vision exactly right…”

“You ran off the Alan Family loyalists. You agreed to have my dad’s wrestling school remodeled.” Glory shakes her head. “Definitely NOT my vision.”

“I know and I apologize, I know I need to learn your vision so that I can better execute it. But face it, Glory, you were right. You WERE overwhelmed.”

“I wasn’t overwhelmed, was involved.” Glory insists.

“You were drowning.” Cat states. “You hired me because you didn’t trust yourself with power.” Glory flinches and Cat sees it. “I removed the temptation, Glory. I removed the chaos and I removed the threats. Your company is cleaner and more efficient than it has ever been.”

“But at what cost?” Glory asks. “I am just a figurehead, Cat! An employee recently quit and I found out much later. They told YOU first!” She sighs. “I admit, I am nervous about what this place does to me. I do fear that it could corrupt me. And I admit I hated the backstage politics.”

“And that’s what I am protecting you from.” Cat insists.

“But the friendships and true bonds I created with my employees…” Glory’s voice trails off “...I enjoyed that. And I miss that. And I’m also no longer a leader.”

“But you don’t get your hands dirty anymore.” Cat points out. “Seriously, Glory, you are my friend, I would do anything for you. But you need to make up your mind here; do you want me to do this job for you? Do you want me to handle the company for you or do you want to take back over and micromanage it again?”

The silence stretched thin between them, heavy with the weight of an ultimatum that had been building since London. Catalina sat back in her plush chair, her expression cool, guarded, and entirely reasonable on the surface. Yet, beneath that polished exterior lay a clear, unspoken challenge: step into the mud and risk becoming everything you feared, or hand over the keys and stay clean. Glory looked down at the smooth glass surface of the desk beneath her hands, then slowly slid her feet back onto the carpet. She stood at her full height, the unbuttoned navy blazer framing her broad, powerful frame as she straightened her spine. In that brief, deliberate pause, the remaining doubts that had followed her from Miami vanished. The fear of being corrupted by power had kept her trapped on the sidelines, allowing Catalina to turn her sanctuary into a cold, transactional machine. But hiding from power was not the same as mastering it.

She walked slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the Charlotte skyline before turning back to face her Chief of Staff. Her dark eyes, usually locked in intense focus when studying tape or stepping into the ring, held a calm, terrifying clarity. She did not raise her voice, nor did she lean into the dramatic, volatile anger that Catalina was likely expecting. Instead, a cold, unwavering resolve settled over her features; the same absolute stillness she carried right before a bell rang. Catalina’s confident posture flickered for just a fraction of a second. She had expected Glory to hesitate, to retreat into the comfortable safety of being just an athlete, or to react with reckless emotion. She had built a maze of corporate red tape designed to make herself indispensable, convinced that Glory lacked the stomach for the throne. But standing there in the pale office light, Glory looked less like a hesitant owner trying to avoid politics and more like a champion reclaiming what was hers by right.

Without offering a single word of rebuttal or validation to Cat’s ultimatum, Glory simply adjusted her blazer and turned toward the heavy frosted doors. The conversation was over, not because an agreement had been reached, but because the dynamic had fundamentally shifted. Glory didn't need to answer the question, because her very presence in the building had already answered it. She pushed the doors open and stepped back into the corridor, her heavy boots striking the floor with absolute, measured authority. The uncertain, nervous eyes of the staff met hers yet again but this time, Glory didn't smile or offer easy reassurances. She carried herself like the owner of the building, ready to face whatever political fires lay ahead. The British Bombshell was no longer asking for permission to lead her own company, and Catalina De Luca was about to learn exactly what happened when Glory Braddock decided to take the wheel.

==========
August 7th, 2026
Detroit, Michigan
On Camera
==========

The camera rolls and we are met with the lovely image of “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock with her long blonde hair styled in loose waves standing outdoors on a concrete paved area in Detroit, Michigan. She is dressed in a sleek, monochromatic black outfit consisting of a tailored, double-breasted black blazer worn open over a low-cut black top, paired with matching black slim-fit trousers. She completes the look with black leather pointed-toe ankle boots featuring prominent silver buckle details, a delicate gold necklace, subtle rings, and a small black leather handbag tucked under her right arm.

Directly behind The British Bombshell stands the prominent facade of Ford Field, recognizable by its large glass windows and red brick construction with blue branding. In the background, modern city skyscrapers rise into a clear sky, and several parked and moving vehicles, including cars and SUVs, are visible across the open roadway.

“What do you want? And what lengths are you willing to go in order to get there?” Glory Braddock asks out loud to no one in particular. The British Bombshell then briefly casts a quick glance at Ford Field and then back at the camera. “Behind me is Ford Field. Home of the Detroit Lions and, let’s face it, up until recently the Lions have only had very painful very bad memories here. No championships. The closest thing to a happy ending they could hope for was playing spoiler to one of their NFC North rivals. But despite the tremendous amount of setbacks and difficulties facing them, they never took their eyes off the prize. They never lost focus and, more importantly, they never quit believing that one day they could win a championship. Now? Now in recent seasons they have been quite a formidable force. They came oh so close to having that magic cinderella season and making a Super Bowl.” She points a finger at herself.

“I know damn well what I want; competition. I want to compete against the very best talent in professional wrestling today. That’s why I compete for Supreme Championship Wrestling and that is why my journey has brought me to Rise To Greatness. I have a lot of memories at this particular event. Some good, some not so good. Last year I beat Ryan Lecavalier. The year before, myself and Brittany Lohan came up short in our bid to win the SCW World Tag Team Title. I won my first of two Adrenaline Championships at this event. I was in the main event of my very first Rise To Greatness challenging for the SCW World Championship. Yes, this event challenges me like no other, but that’s the whole point of professional wrestling; it is all about being tested and being challenged. It is about the best wrestlers getting into the ring and going head to head to see who is the best in the world. And now I find myself here in Detroit, Michigan, Ford Field, ready to compete at another Rise To Greatness against someone who I can honestly say is one of the best wrestlers on the SCW roster; one of the best United States Champions in recent memory and obviously one of the best tag team champions in recent memory; La Pequina Luz. Someone I respect. She may think I’m full of it, she may want to smash my head open with a rock, so why do I even bother with the whole respect thing if no one believes me?” Glory shrugs her shoulders. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall at times. But I do respect you whether you believe me or not.”

“The competition is just one thing I want, because testing myself against someone like you with your talent and ability is what I crave. It is my passion. That’s what keeps me coming back for more. That spirit of competition is why I continue to wrestle week after week, month after month, year after year.” She holds up one finger. “But there is one other thing I want, something that I am willing to go to great lengths to get. It is something that I have tasted once before and I have never lost hope, never lost my focus, and I never once kept my eyes off that prize…the SCW World Championship. I have my ups and my downs, my victories and my defeats just like every other competitor here in this company, but the determination to become SCW World Champion again is what keeps me going. My ability to stay focused on what really matters and keep my eyes on that prize is why, on that long road to earning a title shot, I end up with more wins than I do losses. So believe me, Luz, when I say that I am coming into our match with a clear mind, focused, and determined on doing everything within my power to outwrestle you and defeat you clean in the center of the ring in Ford Field at Rise To Greatness, taking one more giant step closer towards EARNING a shot at the SCW World Title.” Braddock pauses and then points a finger at the camera.

“But what about you, Luz? What do you want and what lengths are you willing to go in order to get there?” A look of mischief forms on Glory’s face. “Do you really want to be champion, Luz? Or are you more concerned about AMELIA NEVADO’s dreams aspirations? I mean, it is pretty damn clear what SHE wants and what SHE is willing to do in order to get there. She may have won that title on her own, I will grant that and give credit where its due, but she sold out to a tyrant in order remain champion and to become the face of the company. She sold out to Frank Delatosso in order to earn his protection.” Glory shakes her head. “I would like to think that you’re not that kind of person, that you still believe in competition. If you do then I know for a fact you and I will steal the show at Ford Field, because whether we like each other or not, whether there’s respect there or if we want to tear each other’s lungs out, no one can deny that we are kindred spirits when it comes to competition and professional wrestling. So if you think I bring up Amelia and her sins simply to accuse you falsely then get that thought out of your head. That isn’t my concern regarding you.” She shakes her head.

“I am not confident that your head is in the right place. I do not think that you are currently focused. Your eyes are not on the prize, Luz. You WERE the SCW United States Champion. Then look at all of the troubles that started creeping in…Amelia’s World Title reign and association with the CEO…The Glimmer Sisters and their ridiculous antics…a tag team title match against Selena and Deanna…you have had all of this going on all around you, serving as a distraction, making you lose focus on the person standing in your path at Rise To Greatness, the person ready to pull the trigger and put an end to whatever goals you might have had.” She nods her head. “That’s right, Luz, when the time comes and that bell rings, and we go face to face at Rise To Greatness, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger because unlike you my mind is focused. My eyes are on the prize. I know exactly what I want at Rise To Greatness.”

“I want to win. I want to defeat you, not just as a stepping stone to bigger and better things, but because you are a great wrestler, you are a great competitor, and beating you MEANS something.” She nods her head. “And yes, beating you is a feather in my cap and gets me closer to an opportunity at the SCW World Championship. That’s MY goal and I am aiming for Apocalypse. You just happen to be in my way and if you are not focused, if you are still distracted when the bell rings, then you will get pinned or you will tap out. Simple as that. Just ask Amelia, even at her BEST she has not been able to beat me.” She winks. “So if you’re NOT at your best, you WILL FAIL just like she has.” She shuts her eyes.

“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”

[Wisteria Waltz]

Luz was no stranger to the grand stage of Rise to Greatness…

It was on this stage where she and Amelia had proposed to one another, officially becoming engaged before their very first match at SCW’s biggest event.

Rise to Greatness marked the beginning of arguably their defining reign as World Tag Team Champions, finally overcoming the team of Brittany Lohan and Glory Braddock in the process.

Last year, it was where Luz prevailed in an intense four way to become the undisputed United States Champion and arguably prove she truly was worthy of holding that gold.

And yet, despite being in Detroit, Rise to Greatness was the last thing on her mind right now.

It had nothing to do with the roles being reversed this year, with Amelia being the one with a marquee title match while Luz had a challenge with potential World Title implications ahead of her.

No… Luz was preparing for war, just not against Glory Braddock.

In a way, it almost felt like an ironic echo of two years ago, where Glory had called into question Luz and Amelia’s focus and drive after they’d spiraled hard following an abrupt change to the Tag Title picture for Rise to Greatness that almost excluded them entirely. Glory had seen fit to repeat the tactic, aiming to take advantage of Luz trying to focus on making things right and pulling Amelia back from the brink just so she could claim a single win to shortcut her way back to the World Title picture, even after all her boasting about wanting to earn it.

Still, while Luz would love to earn a chance at the World Title herself, regardless of whether it was her wife or one of her best friends waiting there to meet her, right now the greater priority was earning not just Amelia’s freedom, but her own as well.

As she sat in her Detroit hotel room trying to mentally prepare herself for what she was about to walk into, she couldn’t help but check her phone, hopeful that there would be any word from Amelia even if she knew it would pose a risk to her wife to contact her right now. She shouldn’t have been surprised to find nothing, but her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the photo still saved as her wallpaper: a shot of her and Amelia on their wedding night, decked out in their Día de Muertos attire and happily standing before her father’s ofrenda, letting his spirit bless their new matrimony.

“Papá…” Luz sighed as she lowered her head, closing her eyes in prayer. “Siento lo que estoy a punto de hacer. I just… I can’t let Caleb keep haunting us like this. He orchestrated taking you from me, he’s trying to take Amelia, he wants me… I fear there is no other way to end this…”

Luz felt a tear forming in her eye, but she fought against it, trying to stay strong even though she knew this was probably one of the hardest things she was ever about to do. Wrestling against Glory, even at her best, was nothing compared to knowing she had no choice if she finally wanted to be rid of the hypocritical holy man who had been haunting her entire life. She swore she felt a presence with her, embracing her from behind, telling her it was alright… she chose to believe it was her father’s spirit, even with her emotions running high in the face of what she was about to do.

“Luz?” She looked up and saw Avery standing in the open doorway, nodding down the hall. “It’s time to go.”

Luz could only take another deep breath before looking at her phone wallpaper one more time, determined to bring about happy moments like that once again. It was the least she and Amelia deserved after everything they’ve been through.

“I’ll see you soon, Ames… and I’ll bring you home,” she said to reassure herself before kissing the picture and following Avery.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Luz?” Avery asked, not wanting to put any more doubt in her head, but also knowing that Luz had never done what she was planning to do while Avery, for better or worse, had experience in this department.

“I wish I didn’t,” Luz honestly admitted, her voice shaky before she tried to steel her resolve. “But Caleb can’t be allowed to keep looming over our lives and acting like he’s a god we’re supposed to bow to and beg to be saved by. He’s ruined everything he touches and we know he won’t stop… it has to be me. Me and Amelia… the last two people his ego would ever suspect to go through with this.”

Avery mulled over Luz’s words, clearly not fully agreeing but knowing the hour was nigh and Luz had a point. The trust she even maintained in Amelia throughout everything… Avery had struggled to believe it when Luz revealed everything Amelia had told her, even if it all made sense, but they couldn’t ignore the golden opportunity Amelia had given them. If all went as planned, then no one would have to fear The Empire ever again, and if Luz and Amelia were willing to sacrifice a part of themselves to make it happen…

Before they descended the final staircase down to the lobby, Avery stopped Luz. She looked at the NCA agent curiously before Avery proceeded to pull something off of their belt, and Luz’s jaw dropped when she saw what it was. The dagger may have looked simple, but she could tell by the wear on it that it had seen use several times over the years and probably ended its fair share of lives.

“If you’re going to do this, then you need the right tool for the job,” Avery told her firmly. “This dagger has served me well in both the FBI and NCA whenever I’ve needed to get up close to take out a target. If you’re sure this is the only way, then I promise you that monster will never see it coming.”

Luz hesitantly took the blade, taking a moment to get a feel for it. Clearly, she was out of her element wielding it, but Avery was handing her the perfect tool for the job and she was hellbent on making it work for her.

“Gracias,” Luz smiled at Avery as she safely tucked the dagger away, probably the last real bit of genuine joy she was going to show until she had Amelia back in her arms.

“You’ve got this, kid,” Avery nodded with a confident grin to help bolster Luz’s spirits as they made their way through the lobby to meet up with everyone else outside most of whom were piling into an SUV Marilyn had rented, but some were clearly insistent on riding with Luz in her rental car.

“We’ve got contact from our agents back home,” Darius informed the both of them as well as the others as he finished up with a call. “Amelia’s tip helped immensely… we’ve got confirmation that members of The Empire have been using secret tunnels leading to somewhere underground beneath the old Blythe family castle.”

“No doubt Vladimir’s design,” Avery confirmed, being intricately familiar with the designs and tactics of their former FBI co-worker.

“We’ve got men in position ready to raid,” Evie confirmed. “We gave them a time to strike… if we know Caleb’s ego as well as we think we do, we can time this right and take him out.”

“Then let’s not keep him waiting any longer,” Luz said, her voice emitting raw determination to finally have a future to look forward to at long last… one without The Empire lurking over their shoulders.

No one argued with Luz as they all piled in and made the drive over to the abandoned parking garage Caleb had scouted out and deemed the perfect location to do this, because of course he would after what Luz had gone through last year at another one of these places. She recalled last year around this same show, when the head of The Empire’s splinter cell had attempted to kill both her and her family. She had fought back but was hesitant to stain her soul taking the life of another, even to defend herself against a lunatic who deserved it. Stephen Crane had ultimately died, and Luz had a strong feeling Caleb might have saved her back then, both to resolve his own problem and to build up to this moment.

Luz didn’t engage in any of the chatter during the drive, simply keeping her focus on the road and the task ahead of her, but she still acknowledged the love and support from her closest friends that were going to be the key to pulling the trigger here, especially since there was one very important face missing from this picture and Luz was not ending this day without that face properly by her side once again.

The moment she drove up to the old parking garage where this was supposed to go down, Luz immediately spotted them: Caleb White front and center, his remaining elites all proudly lined up behind him… and Amelia standing right beside him, trying to maintain her proverbial mask for just a little longer. As Luz quickly stepped out of the car, knowing everyone else was right behind her, she also took careful note of all the Empire goons hiding in plain sight, clearly securing the perimeter and prepared to try anything if the NCA had an ambush planned. There was a plan alright, as Avery, Darius and Evie had scouted this location a week ago once Caleb confirmed it, but that was for The Empire to find out.

Right now, Luz was focused on making sure Caleb took clear note of the sheer disdain she had for him. Catching Amelia’s gaze, she saw the concern and sorrow over her needing to be this way, but she saw the same dark fire burning in her beloved’s eyes, confirming they were on the same page for this even if they both wished there was another way.

“I commend you for your punctuality,” Caleb complimented, sounding sincerely impressed. Everything about it already made Luz’s skin crawl.  “Now, I know that the parties of interest here have important business to prepare for, so shall we make this quick and seamless? I’m sure you, Luz, will greatly appreciate the help I can offer you to erase the blight that is the Braddock name from this Earth for good, just as I’ve helped prepare Amelia to erase the plague that is another-”

“Don’t even dare to utter Deanna’s name, you sick monster,” Luz growled fiercely. She was not about to stand here and let this religious psychopath insult their friend.

“Yes, I do recall seeing her at your wedding the night I was justly freed,” Caleb smugly gloated. “A pity that things between her and Selena don’t seem to have worked out… it is to be expected with such abominations of love, I’m afraid, as you and Amelia here have discovered.”

“Can we get this over with?” Amelia snapped. The cold outburst briefly took Luz aback, but as she chances a subtle glance into Amelia’s eyes, she could see the truth: her impatience was part of the mask she was trying to wear, hoping to move this along to a point where maybe, if they were lucky, Luz could have an opportunity to strike.

“What… have you done to her?” she heard Henry demand, his voice trembling with barely-restrained rage as she glanced over and saw his fists tighten. She quickly took note of the way everyone around her was reacting before she realized what they were referring to. They hadn’t seen Amelia’s wrist uncovered since she disappeared, not like Luz had in the locker room a few weeks ago. She was the only one among their found family who was aware of what Caleb had started doing, that Amelia was now scarred with The Empire’s sigil for life, and she couldn’t blame their horror and disgust at the sight. Even now, seeing Amelia’s sacrifice with her own two eyes only made her more determined to put an end to this nightmare once and for all.

“What I felt I had to do in order to avoid any more… complications,” Caleb spoke with a tone that sounded almost insulted at the implication that branding those that followed him was wrong, especially as he glared at the NCA agents behind her. “I couldn’t afford any more attempts to infiltrate and corrupt my holy cause that would escape the watchful eye of God. So those truly devoted to our divine mission prove themselves by being marked as proof of their loyalty and devotion, just like my elites… and just like Amelia here.”

“You sick son of a-” Luz heard Evie growl as she began to pull out her gun, but that immediately drew clicking sounds from every Empire cultist surrounding the area, a show of force meant to warn her against what she was about to do. She glanced back to see Darius, despite his own disgust at this revelation, trying to calm her down.

“I notice you don’t have one,” Marilyn jabbed, clearly looking to instigate. “What’s the matter, bozo? Not loyal to your own preaching?”

“My loyalty to God is unquestioned,” Caleb frowned, but maintained a level head in the face of the antics of someone he’d been haunting for just as long as he’d loomed over Amelia and Luz’s families. “He has guided my hand in judging and cleansing every filthy, unworthy soul I have met throughout my life, from my own brother to the witch who led him astray.” He grinned at Marilyn’s furious reaction before turning that grin to Henry before his eyes ultimately landed on Luz and her family. “And that includes the man who donned a mask and proclaimed himself an angelic spirit when your people are the most corruptive influence this world has ever suffered from.”

It took a herculean effort on the part of Luz’s willpower to not just reveal her dagger and rush Caleb in a blind rage, wanting so badly to just lose herself in rage at the vile things this man had to say about her father, a man who didn’t deserve to have his life ended by Caleb’s twisted machinations. She did have to grab her mom before she attacked for Luz, though she was shocked at the absolutely harsh but deserved torrent of Spanish her mom threw Caleb’s way for his comments. Even Amelia seemed to be struggling to restrain herself, which further proved that Caleb didn’t have the control he thought he did.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this conversation,” Caleb continued, brushing all of this off as if he was above it all, “it’s not why we’re gathered here today. Luz… shall we make our exchange so that I can begin making amends for your father’s existential failures and prove that even you are truly worthy of a place in Heaven if you try?”

“Let’s do this,” Luz spat in disgust, refusing to let Caleb ramble on any further about her father or anything ‘holy’ he thought he was doing with all of this. As she glanced at Amelia when the two of them and Caleb moved to meet halfway, she saw the emotionless expression her wife was trying to maintain, but it was clear Luz had been convincing enough to create the illusion that she truly was willing to give herself up if it meant Amelia could truly come home. Genuinely, she would if that’s what it would take, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind on that, but while the rest of their family had stayed back to not risk being fired upon, Luz tried to focus on Amelia, using this precious time to make sure they were on the same page here.

Thankfully, the gift that Amelia had left with her weeks ago had proven invaluable in setting the stage for this exact moment.

Before the two could exchange places, the moment was interrupted by Caleb’s phone ringing. To say he looked irritated would be an understatement, but he tried to play it off all the same.

“My apologies,” he insisted before answering the call. “This had better be important, because I’m in the middle of-” He trailed off as whatever news was being broken to him destroyed his composed control entirely. “What do you mean our base has been discovered? That’s impossible! The NCA should have no… knowledge… of…”

Caleb’s stunned gaze slowly turned to Amelia, and knowing that Luz had just given her the perfect opening, she watched as Amelia revealed a dagger of her own and attempted to slash at Caleb’s throat with it. Unfortunately, Caleb dropped his phone and caught her wrist, twisting it to try and force his dagger from her hands. Luz wasn’t going to allow him to disarm her wife, however, pulling out the dagger Avery had given her and lunging, aiming right for Caleb’s black heart. Caleb, however, managed to block her efforts as he seized her wrist with his free hand.

“You two… truly are beyond salvation…” Caleb grunted as he tried to use his legendary wrestling prowess to disarm them, but Luz and Amelia were not going to be stopped. He still knew exactly how to end this stalemate as he yelled to his minions, “Kill them all and let God sort them out!”

While Luz felt a momentary pang of PTSD at the familiar cry that had been the wary cry of The Empire’s splinter cell, Caleb soon found his order going up in smoke as the small turret-wielding drones the NCA had hidden around the area in preparation for this moment revealed themselves, firing upon the cultists and either ending them or driving them into retreat. Luz saw the elites prepare to move in and back Caleb up, but the others quickly rushed past the three of them to keep them from interfering, thanks to a serious numbers advantage.

This didn’t deter Caleb, however, as he surprised his two biggest thorns by rolling back and expertly throwing them into one another. It didn’t disarm either of them, but that didn’t stop Caleb from revealing another dagger and aiming right between Luz’s eyes, but Amelia quickly moved in front of Luz and blocked the strike with her own dagger.

“I had such high hopes for you… both of you…” Caleb growled in disappointment, still trying to rip away at Luz’s kind nature and Amelia’s self-worth even now. “All I wanted was to save you both from damnation… to make things right…”

“For yourself!” Luz spat. “All you’ve ever cared about was false redemption because you can’t stand the idea of going to Hell where you belong!”

“My soul has always belonged in Heaven,” Caleb sternly continued. “I have always been better than every other wretched soul corrupting this world, God himself has decreed it. That is why I know you will not strike me down… you aren’t strong enough to stain your souls-”

“Enough!” Amelia yelled as she grabbed Caleb’s wrist and rolled underneath his blade, kicking his leg out from under him. Luz didn’t hesitate to kick his dagger out of his hands, disarming him before Amelia continued. “Luz and I have had to live our lives with your shadow looming over us, making us fear you. Just like my parents, you’re done trying to dictate our lives for your selfish gains!”

“You’ve tried to break us for years, all because you couldn’t cope with the truth that everything you’ve done locked you out of Heaven a long time ago!” Luz added.

“You don’t understand!” Caleb tried to plead. “We’re better than all of them! We don’t belong in the fiery pit! I don’t belong-”

As Caleb ranted, Luz saw him try to lunge for her once more, but she wasn’t about to let him win… not this time. She thrust the dagger forward, her aim true as the blade pierced Caleb’s chest, driving straight through whatever was left of his twisted heart. She felt her blade make contact with Amelia’s, realizing that her wife had mirrored the attack from the back as Caleb gasped between them, blood oozing from his mouth.

“If we’re hellbound, then so be it…” Luz fiercely declared.

“...as long as we go down together,” Amelia finished with just as much ferocity.

Caleb had nothing more to say… he tried, but the blood rising from his throat refused to allow words to form. They both let go and stepped aside, collapsing against one another as the man who had tormented them for most of their lives fell to the ground, his death as undignified as he deserved.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, they felt their loved ones surrounding them, checking on them, questioning Amelia specifically about what she’d pulled, but Luz made sure she was right by her side to keep her grounded, staring deep into her wife’s eyes as the realization dawned on them of what they’d done. Even still, though, they took solace in the fact that it was necessary.

Their souls may have been stained, but they were finally free.

Without its self-righteous leader, The Empire would crumble, especially once the brainwashing was broken and the truth of Caleb’s intentions finally sank in.

Luz was finally free to pursue a brighter future, alongside the woman who meant everything to her.

[Wisteria Waltz]

The first thing we hear is the sound of water flowing, and perhaps it's no surprise when we find ourselves moving along the Detroit River. Specifically, we're along the promenade stretching for miles along the waterfront known as the Detroit Riverwalk, filled with plenty of activities for anybody to enjoy right alongside the spectacular view of the river that runs through the Motor City. We appear to be here quite early as the sight of the sun rising in the distance casts a beautiful golden glow across the Riverwalk and the city as a whole, bathing it in the light of a brand new day. Almost as if embracing this, we find La Pequeña Luz standing at a railing along the river's edge, taking in the dawn with a smile that we haven't seen in quite some time from the radiant luchadora... a smile that indicates she's at peace. Clearly something's happened, but what exactly seems to have helped eased the burden resting on her shoulders isn't quite clear right now. She even lets out a pleasant sigh of contentment as she begins speaking, not quite turning to look at us just yet.

“The dawn of a brand new day... there are many meanings people have attached to it over the years. A fresh start, a turning point, a reason to be optimistic, a symbol of hope... experiencing this is just one reason I like waking up so early in the morning and watching the sun rise, feeling it bathe me in its light to remind me of the light I chose to be the moment I donned this mask. The path hasn't always been easy... I'm not going to stand here and admit that I haven't had my moments of serious doubt or frustration where I've questioned if I truly belong here, in SCW, among the very best athletes in the whole world bar none. I've had my major setbacks, I've had my losing streaks, I've made some questionable decisions. The thing is... that's what makes me human. The ability to make mistakes, feel guilty or frustrated, want to figure out how I can do better, they're all proof that even though I'm supposed to be some larger than life presence as far as the fans are concerned, in reality, I'm no different from any of you out there. The same can be said of any wrestler in this business, though some tend to forget that more than others, choosing to hide behind the image and legacy they've built because the concept of failure is supposed to be foreign to them.

Speaking as someone who was practically born into this business, someone who immersed herself in a rich and vibrant culture built around treating wrestlers as these larger-than-life personalities on par with actual superheroes, I speak from experience when I say this business is not an easy one. Sure, the physical toll it takes goes without saying, but what often goes unspoken is the mental toll it takes on us all. None of us are perfect, yet there are some people out there who expect us to be, and even more who believe this is the reality they have to live. When you spend so much time pushing yourself beyond your limits, trying to get better only for the results to paint a picture of no progress being made at all, you're left questioning if any of this is worth it, if you need to make a drastic change just to get the results that your best efforts haven't been producing. On the flip side, maybe you start believing in your own hype, let all the success go to your head, and then when you do hit a rough patch, you struggle to figure out why everything is suddenly going wrong, why you aren't getting the results you believe you deserve. You can't accept that maybe it's yourself, because you're already perfect, so clearly it has to be someone else's fault.

Wrestling takes it toll on the minds of the best of us, and I'm not going to stand here and act like I'm any different. Back when I returned to SCW, there was a period of time where I couldn't seem to get a win on the board outside of tag team matches no matter how hard I worked. By comparison, Amelia had earned a Television Title reign and was knocking at the door of a potential U.S. Title reign as well. With our paths diverged, there was a moment where the stress of this business started winning out, where I felt jealous that her stock was rising while mine couldn't even get out of the gate. For that reason, I understand exactly why Amelia spent so long struggling when the roles were reversed, why she felt like the path she ultimately chose was the only way. But she never gave up on me back then... it's why I ultimately secured a TV Title reign of my very own, why I earned several reigns as U.S. Champion, and why I returned the favor and gave her an anchor to pull her back before she drifted too far. Most wrestlers define their time in this business by how many championships they've held or how long they've held them, it's why so many of them can't stop talking about gold at any given chance. But championships aren't everything... to me, and to Amelia deep down? Just as important is being able to get in that ring and do something we both absolutely love, giving those fans the show they paid to see and getting to test ourselves to see how far we've come and how much farther we still have to go. It's simple, and it's something most people would scoff at, but that's because I think they've forgotten the value of simple joys like living your dreams in favor of being consumed by the need to prove themselves because in their minds, if they aren't champions... they're nothing.”

Luz lowers her head, her eyes watching the water as it splashes against the wall of the promenade beneath her feet. It's clear that she's thinking of the woman she loves, who fell into that same darkness and has only recently shown signs that she might finally be fighting her way back out, but that description could also apply to another wrestler Luz is all too familiar with. Knowing this, she sighs before she turns her back to the river, letting the sun rise at her back as her expression turns a little less joyful.

“The problem with this mindset is that it begins to warp your personality, make you believe in things that just aren't true. But it doesn't matter, because as long as they're true in your mind, then that's the reality. You are the best, you're already the pinnacle and don't need to improve anymore because no one else is supposed to be able to hold a candle to you, and worst of all, you start to lose the sense of self-awareness that allows you to see the cracks in the mirror that leave you looking at a reflection that, deep down, you know isn't you... you just don't see it.

I think that's part of why everything leading up to Rise to Greatness has felt so frustrating for me personally. Sí, I've been devoting more time than some people believe I should have towards trying to help guide my wife back from the abyss she'd fallen into, and I've even been called out on it because of this belief that I'm sabotaging my career just to focus on her... is that right, Glory? Is my relationship nothing more than a distraction and caring about someone who I want in my life even beyond the day when I finally hang up my mask and boots is such a distraction that you've convinced yourself that I'm wasting a spot on this roster and you're doing everyone a favor by kicking me to the bottom of the mountain and taking the easy way towards the prize my wife currently holds?

Make no mistake about it Glory... you've been talking for months now about earning your way back to the World Title, proving that you deserve to have one more run with it that lasts for longer than just a few minutes. It's gotten to the point where you talk down about opportunities like the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal, calling it a waste of time that doesn't prove anything. And yet, I was the runner-up in that very endeavor, and between that and my wife being the World Champion, all of a sudden that match means enough that you want to walk up to me and try to manipulate me into a match where you truly believe a win will guarantee you the title match you want so badly, even after two straight losses that, if I'm remembering right from Breakdown, had you declaring that this very match we're about to have now means nothing to you.

You want to know why I've questioned the respect you say you truly have for Amelia and I, Glory? Take a moment to listen back to the things you've said to me, not just leading up to this match, but along this entire road that led us here to Detroit. Listen back to everything you've said to Amelia every time you've crossed paths, all the times you've put her down or claimed she was obsessed with getting that one win over you while you constantly gloat in her face that she can't beat you, no matter how hard she works or how much better she gets. Is that respect, Glory? Because it comes off to me like you're confusing respect with arrogance hoping nobody calls you out on it because you want to hear those fans cheer your name instead of seeing the truth. It is possible to respect someone's skills but not their attitude Glory... I'm not going to stand here and say that you aren't a great wrestler, and we've shared that ring plenty of times over the years for me to claim otherwise. But when you claim to respect me, respect my wife, and then talk down to us as though we're inferior, as though we don't have the same drive and passion as you do when I literally wear the passion of this sport born from my culture every hour of every day, it takes a lack of self-awareness that may as well be the size of a black hole to not be able to see why Amelia and I have reason to question whether or not you actually do respect us.”

Luz raises her hand, running her fingers along her mask as if to ground herself for a moment, taking some deep breaths. It's clear that Luz is fired up and determined to get her point across, and she wants to make sure that Glory understands that.

“Like I said, Glory, we've done this dance before, though you and I have never really met one-on-one until now. Fatal Fortunes pit us against one another in a triple threat match during my interim U.S. Title reign, and I'd be willing to bet you were frustrated at the fact that I won that match without pinning you. Then there was the tag team rivalry between The Light In The Darkness and Twisted & Sadistic, where you proved how badly you wanted to be a champion by any means necessary when you and Brittany refused to let Amelia and I negotiate a fair compromise regarding a rematch for the two of you and instead felt the need to bulldoze through the entire division in one fell swoop because earning it didn't matter to you back then... not when you felt you'd already earned it and the rules no longer applied to you. Yet, in the face of that, you feel the need to prod at me and try to convince me that Amelia is a lost cause and can't redeem herself when you acted no different and just expect people to forget any of that ever happen?

You want to know the tragic irony in all of this? Just like you've been doing with Amelia lately, you've spent years calling out the likes of Selena Frost and Syren for the way they've acted, putting down Syren especially because you refuse to accept that she could possibly change from the woman she was during the Infamous days a long time ago. But when I look at you, Glory... I see Selena Frost as the Blue-Eyed Devil. I see Infamous-era Syren. I see Amelia Blythe, the incarnation of my wife enslaved so deeply by her family name that she had to act like she was the perfect wrestling machine because anything less was unacceptable. You freely spout the words 'sic semper tyrannis' without looking in the mirror and realizing who the real tyrant is in this exact scenario. Don't believe me? Look back on every time you've walked up to me and tried to gaslight me over my efforts to dive into the abyss and help pull Amelia back from the brink, tried to position yourself as more worthy of a World Title shot because you refuse to comprehend just how hard I will fight, no matter what it takes, to save someone who means just as much to me as this business and the prize of championship gold. If you don't reflect back on everything you've said to me leading up to this Sunday night and see the very same person you've criticized so many for being because 'they can't change' and 'redemption isn't possible,' then you deserve the reality check you're going to get at Rise to Greatness when I defeat you Glory.

And make no mistake... I am going to beat you.

For someone who claims to want to do everything the right way and properly earn her opportunities, you've done an awful lot of work trying to move the goalposts and redefine what 'properly earning it' truly means, Glory, and believing you know better than I do on that front is the part that I think disrespects me just as much as the ego you don't seem to think you have. In my eyes? A real wrestler, someone who actually cares about this business and wants to get in that ring and compete night after night, will throw themselves at any challenge put in front of them and tackle it to the best of their abilities. It's why I walked into the Thunderdome earlier this year despite it being a more violent match than I'm used to engaging in. It's why I stepped up to the plate for Taking Hold of the Flame and almost won the battle royal, and that was on top of wrestling just beforehand in arguably the most humiliating stipulation I have ever had to endure in my entire career. It's why Amelia didn't hesitate to try her hand at that turmoil match that earned her an Underground Title reign, even if only for a few minutes.

And yet... you act like the battle royal doesn't matter and the efforts of the forty men and women who try their hand at it are a waste, but you go straight for the runner-up believing that a win over me means instantly being rewarded with the title shot you want so badly.

You obsess over becoming World Champion again by any means necessary because you want to erase a minutes-long run with that title from years ago... but it's alright for you to accept a similar reign with the Underground Title because you stepped outside your comfort zone by competing in that turmoil match? And that kind of match means more than a battle royal where you actually have to stand your ground and fight instead of running and hiding until you run out the clock?”

Luz audibly sighs as she turns her head to glance back at the sun that's now crept higher into the sky, her silhouette really starting to stand out in the golden glow now. After a moment of thinking, she turns back to us once more.

“You asked what lengths I'm willing to go to get what I want, believing that my head isn't in the game because I'm not obsessing over the World Title like you are, all because of whoever could hold it coming out of Rise to Greatness. You fail to acknowledge that I've proudly fought Deanna before, even as recently as two weeks ago with the Tag Titles on the line, just as you fail to acknowledge how Amelia and I have said for years we've faced each other in that ring multiple times and wouldn't mind doing that dance again in an SCW ring, maybe with the World Title in the picture. Well, let me answer that question right here and now for you Glory, because I challenge you to agree to a little stipulation for our match to add some more stakes to it:

Whoever loses this match will never be allowed to challenge for the World Title for the rest of their SCW career.

It's a stipulation I know you won't accept, Glory... despite trying to paint a picture where you will do anything to win and that losing to me is not an option, you've become defined at this point by your obsession with being World Champion again. To agree to this when there's even the slim chance you might lose, in your mind, would be a death sentence for your career. I'm not afraid, though... yeah, it would mean I could never ultimately try to become a Supreme Champion someday, but as I've been saying, there's more to wrestling than just being World Champion. I have a wife I'm proud to see standing at the top of that mountain, I have fans who enjoy everything that I do for them in that ring, and I have plenty of other titles I could fight towards if I really want to hold gold again. Being World Champion isn't the end all, be all for me Glory, especially not when I still have a long career ahead of me to get there, and that's why I'm willing to take that risk.

That's what this business means to me Glory... and why you've already lost the moment you made this challenge.

Rise to Greatness is a night unlike any other, and we both know exactly what it means to meet on that stage and do battle. Two years ago, the pride of Twisted & Sadistic became their undoing as The Light In The Darkness proved that we could defeat Glory and Brittany if we pushed ourselves hard enough to get better. This year, over at Ford Field, will be no different. I'm sorry Glory... I do respect what you bring to the table, and I acknowledge that you are going to be my toughest test to date, but I need to be the one to show you, through the sacred art of wrestling, exactly why you need to be saved from yourself if you truly respect me the way you say you do. Just like the rising sun behind me brings a brand new day to Detroit, on Sunday night, I will be the symbol of your fresh start Glory. You can either take it by shaking my hand and reflecting on everything I've said after I prove, once again, that you are not as infallible as you think you are when our past does not define our future.

Or you can let yourself keep falling down the same abyss that nearly swallowed Amelia whole because, just like her, you let one little losing streak eat you alive and you can't understand why.”

Luz closes her eyes and lowers her head, quietly saying something that anybody who understands Spanish might recognize as a prayer. When Luz finishes, she looks up at us again, that fire still burning brightly within her, but currently tempered by the genuine smile that implies brighter days are truly ahead for the luchadora whose name literally translates to “Little Light,” and in her mind... Rise to Greatness truly will be the dawn of a brighter tomorrow in SCW, and she'll fight like hell to make that a reality.