Sal Darius vs. Glory Braddock

[Braddock]

2 of 2
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June 24th, 2025
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The low murmur of conversation and the soft clinking of silverware blended with smooth jazz music drifting from a hidden speaker in the ceiling. The Ossobuco Miami Steakhouse wasn’t the flashiest restaurant in the city but that was precisely why Glory Braddock had chosen it. It was a rustic steakhouse housed in a squat, stucco building with ivy creeping up its weathered façade. Inside, soft amber lighting spilled from hanging Edison bulbs suspended above each table, their glow diffused by bronze mesh shades that gave the room a warm, nostalgic haze. The air carried a gentle aroma of garlic, basil, and aged wine, underscored by the faintest trace of salt carried inland by the ocean breeze that slipped through the slightly cracked windows. The tables, set close enough to foster intimacy but far enough to ensure privacy, were clothed in deep burgundy linens. Wine glasses caught the light, casting shimmering rings on the mahogany wood. Waiters in crisp black shirts moved with quiet efficiency. The place had a lived in charm, the kind only time and consistency could create.

At a corner booth Glory Braddock sat with the quiet poise. Her long blonde hair was pinned into a loose chignon, with just enough rebellion in the flyaways to hint that this was more for function than vanity. Her face, framed by a few gently curling strands, bore the faintest touch of makeup. She wore a silky sleeveless slate gray blouse tucked into high waisted black trousers that hugged her athletic frame, her choice of wardrobe effortlessly blending power and elegance. Kurt Logan was the contrast that completed her. Where Glory was sharp lines and calculated precision, Kurt was a study in grounded warmth. His jet-black hair was slicked back with a touch of product, and a trimmed beard framed a square jaw. He wore a navy button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled just below the elbows, revealing the lean strength in his forearms. His jeans, dark and well-fitted, were a nod to his Texas roots. The light glinted off the simple silver band on his left hand as he lifted a glass of red wine to his lips, his dark eyes watching Glory with a mixture of curiosity and affection. A candle flickered between them, its flame catching in their eyes like a shared secret. It had been too long since they’d sat like this, no business, no distractions, no one else to impress or defend against. Just two people trying to reconnect in the rare stillness between the storms of their separate ambitions.

Outside, the occasional whoosh of a passing car reminded them they were still in the city, still part of the world. But here, inside Ossobuco, time felt slower. Their server, a young Cuban man with a kind smile and practiced posture, approached the table with a bottle of chianti and a small grin. The wine had been Glory’s choice, another small act of letting her guard down. He poured with a flourish, offering a nod as he stepped back and left them alone once more. Glory tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but no longer guarded. Kurt leaned in, sensing the moment had finally arrived. Between the jazz and the candlelight and the comfort of something real, the silence between them shifted, not heavy now, but expectant.

“You know, it has been too long since we have been able to just go out and enjoy a night out, just the two of us.” Glory smiles warmly and lovingly at Kurt, who smiles back and nods his head.

“It is refreshing to see you like this; it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders.”

“The wine helps.” Braddock sips her wine. She sighs. “It also helps that I don’t have to worry about dealing with CHBK anymore. That little twat was a really big part of my stress, but Angelica can deal with him now.”

“Your cousin was a life saver, you know that? If you had continued pressing CHBK’s buttons the way you had been, that little verbal reprimand from the SCW Board of Directors could have been the least of your worries. Things could have become far worse for you.”

“What can I say? I guess I’m not that much of a diplomat.” Braddock snickers. “I prefer to do my talking in the ring with my fists and my feet. I don’t want to be constantly bothered by dealing with the COO. I would rather be in the ring making idiots like Sal Darius tap out. I want to be in the ring doing what I do best, winning. I’ve won three in a row since I decided to drop out of Taking Hold of the Flame, since I decided to bet on myself to earn my way back into championship contention. Beating Sal will be my fourth straight victory. Eventually CHBK will be forced to give me a title match of some sort.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” Kurt winks. “You still have to beat Sal.”

“Don’t worry, love, I never look past or underestimate any opponent.”

“I’m just glad you are relaxed. All that stress couldn’t be healthy.”

“I admit, the stress was taking its toll.” Braddock sighs, then sips her wine. “I couldn’t sleep, I kept getting distracted, I lost focus. But so much stress has been lifted off my shoulders thanks to my cousin helping me deal with CHBK while Aphrodite helps me take care of my company and my corporate rivalry with Frances Taylor.”

Kurt shifts uneasily in his seat. It was Angelica’s suggestion that Glory Braddock let Aphrodite Noel, a very influential woman in Glory’s life and a powerful woman within Glorious Golden Enterprises, manage the company on Glory’s behalf. Kurt Logan doesn’t like the influence Aphrodite has on his wife and he doesn’t particularly like the idea of letting Aphrodite have this much control over the company, even if it is to guard against Frances Taylor.

“You know, babe, I’m glad that you are so relaxed and no longer stressed out, but I’m not exactly happy that you’re letting Aphrodite take care of the company for you.”

“Look, I get it, you don’t approve of my friendship with her. You think she has too much influence on me. But face facts, I cannot continue to fight this corporate war against Frances, a war that SHE declared, by the way. You and Angelica both agreed, I have had too much on my plate, too much stress. I need to delegate some of these responsibilities. Angelica is the perfect person to handle my issues with CHBK because she’s already dealing with him on behalf of Kim. So I need someone capable of being ruthless enough and cunning enough to fight Frances. Who better than Aphrodite? Name one person more capable.”

“I admit that I cannot really think of anyone.” Kurt sighs and shakes his head.

“Frances is willing to use any and all means necessary to try and undermine me, to ruin me, to bring me down. I need someone who can be equally as ruthless to defeat Frances.” Braddock shakes her head. “I cannot be that person otherwise I risk losing myself, I risk becoming some sort of monster I do not want to become. But Aphrodite already is that kind of person willing to do whatever necessary. She’ll take down Frances.”

“Oh you have no disagreements from me there.” Kurt shakes his head. “My concern is that Aphrodite might want something in return. She might ask a favor of you later. Are you prepared for that?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when and if it comes.” Glory nods her head. She reaches out and takes Kurt’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “But right now I don’t want to focus on any of my problems; I don’t want to talk about SCW or Frances. I just want tonight to be about you and me, about us.”

“Very well.” Kurt smiles warmly. “It’s all about us.”

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June 25th, 2025
Cleveland, Ohio
On Camera
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Glory Braddock stands confidently in the middle of a quiet, sunlit urban street, her poised and elegant demeanor at stark contrast with the industrial backdrop of an older, semi-residential part of Cleveland, Ohio, the setting of SCW Breakdown this week. Brick buildings with tall black-framed windows lined one side of the road. The midday sun lit the scene warmly, casting soft shadows across the asphalt and lending a golden sheen to the edges of Glory’s blonde hair, which fell in soft, voluminous waves around her shoulders. The street was nearly deserted save for a few parked cars and the long, faded lines of the sidewalk stretching into the background. Her attire was both casual and sharply coordinated; she wore a vibrant purple button-up shirt, cleanly pressed and crisply tailored to hug her frame without ever appearing tight. The shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of high-waisted, form fitting blue jeans that accentuated her long legs and athletic build. The denim was a mid wash, neither distressed nor flashy, giving her a grounded, modern look. On her feet were matching purple canvas sneakers with white soles, the laces tied precisely, continuing the color theme with a touch of laid-back charm. Her facial expression was one of calm self-assurance. With her back straight, shoulders relaxed, and hands gently at her sides, Glory projected a natural command of her surroundings, as if she were the anchor point in the flow of the day. Her eyes, highlighted by subtle but effective makeup, were fixed forward with quiet purpose, and her lightly glossed lips carried the trace of a confident smile. There was a breeze in the air, enough to stir the edge of her hair but not enough to break her posture. Behind her, the street gently curved out of frame, suggesting motion, change, and unseen destinations, much like Glory herself, whose story never stays still for long.

“When I dropped out of Taking Hold of the Flame I raised some eyebrows. It was a controversial decision that certainly left many people upset. But it wasn’t my intention to offend anyone, to make enemies, to make anyone angry. That was never my intention. My intention in dropping out of Taking Hold of the Flame was to bet on myself and my wrestling ability that I could wrestle my way into contention for a championship; Television Title, Underground Title, Adrenaline Title, United States Title, or the World Title. I was betting on myself that I could earn my way to a title match through the old fashioned way, before all the fancy gimmick matches, before all of the glitz and glamour. I was betting that I could get the job done by WINNING match after match. I was betting that, with my own wrestling ability, I could force SCW to sit up and take notice of me, who I am, and what I am capable of by going on winning streak like no other. It may take one win, two wins, or twelve wins, I don’t know, but at some point I know that my record would speak for itself and I would be granted an opportunity. I know that at some point I would earn the chance to be called champion again.” The British Bombshell holds up three fingers.

“Three up and three down…Kemal Yilmaz, I beat him. David Striker, I beat him. Amelia Nevado, I beat her. And if you look at those names you will note that they are not some journeymen, they are not some enhancement talent sent to make me look good. Kemal, Striker, and Nevado are all three very good wrestlers. They are damn good wrestlers. But they were not good enough to take down The British Bombshell. But this is what I wanted when I backed out of Taking Hold of the Flame. This is what I envisioned when I turned down that number one spot in Taking Hold of the Flame. I pictured me running the gauntlet of SCW wrestlers, the best wrestlers on the planet, and wrestling and defeating as many of them as I had to until I proved to the powers that be that I was worthy of challenging for a championship. I beat three and now I am onto number four.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.

“Sal Darius, you’re up next. Now I give my previous three opponents all of the credit in the world but you? I look at you and I am finding it very difficult to give you much credit, if I am being completely honest with you, mate. When I look at you, I don’t see a violent technical marvel like Kemal. I do not see an experienced grappler like Striker. I do not see a decorated former champion like Amelia. When I look at you I see a sleazy, slimy, harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen. When I look at you, I see man with anger management issues whose temper has already cost him victories and could cost him his job if he’s not careful…just ask my future son in law Clyde Sutter about what happens in this company when you lose your temper one too many times. Having a decision reversed and losing to a twat like Chase Upshaw is bad enough, Sal. That’s rather humiliating. But if you keep losing that temper of yours, someone will grow tired of dealing with your nonsense and throw you out.” Glory shakes her head.

“I’m not here to judge you and I am definitely not here to lecture you, Sal. Quite frankly, your future in SCW is none of my business and I do not really care to begin with. You are not exactly the ideal role model the fans of SCW need to be looking up to, you are not the kind of person people need to be modeling their lives after, so what happens with you if your temper continues to get the best of you or if you just drop off the face of the earth, it wouldn’t cause me to lose a bit of sleep. What does concern me about you, Sal, is that you are my opponent here in Cleveland for Breakdown. You are set to be my fourth opponent since I decided to bet on myself and I intend to make you my fourth straight victory. And for me it is a must win scenario which is bad news for you.” The British Bombshell smirks knowingly.

“Now some might look at you, your past within this company which, even you have to admit, is rather spotty. You have won some, you have lost some, you have dropped off the map only to return, you won some again, you lost some, and you lost to Chase Upshaw of all people because you couldn’t control your temper, all of this has led to you being unable to break through into the upper echelon of competition here in Supreme Championship Wrestling. And some might look at all that and think that you are not a threat. People like the Syrens, the Selena Frosts, and yes, even the Ryan Lecavaliers of the company might look right on past you, thinking that you are no threat to them. But unlike some, I never look past an opponent. I never ever underestimate my competition…even someone with as spotty and shady of a record as you. Even someone like you is capable of shocking the world on any given day in any given match. That is one of many lessons my father taught me growing up, one I will never ever forget. So if you’re hoping that I’ll make that kind of monumental mistake of underestimating you, then think again. Get another strategy, Sal, because that one won’t fly with me.”

“It’s like I told Amelia two weeks ago, I NEED this win…I need this and every other win in every single match I am booked in; I need as many wins as I can get because I took the gamble of a lifetime by backing out of Taking Hold of the Flame. I took a huge risk by refusing that opportunity and choosing, instead, to bet on myself. Taking Hold of the Flame, as difficult as it is to win, is still a shortcut to a world title match. I gambled that I could earn my way into a title match through the old fashioned way of winning matches. I’m already turning heads with three straight wins but that’s still not good enough. I need to keep going, I need to keep winning, and that means I NEED to defeat you, Sal. I cannot afford anything else.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.

“You’re equally as dangerous and I recognize that fact. You are in what is, arguably, an enviable position of having everything to gain and absolutely nothing to lose. If I beat you on Breakdown, you don’t lose much in terms of standing. You have yet to really break through in SCW so what does it really mean if you lost to a Supreme Champion? Not much. But if you were to pull off the shocker and win? Oh that would certainly be a breakthrough for you, THE breakthrough you have needed. That makes you dangerous, very dangerous, and someone not to be taken lightly. So on Breakdown, Sal, you are going to be treated the same way I treated Kemal…the same way I treated Striker…and yes, the same way I treated Amelia Nevado two weeks ago. I am treating you as if you are my toughest opponent to date. I am treating you like the threat that you are. And like the others, I will put you down. I will defeat you.” Glory holds up four fingers. “You will then become number four.”

“Now I want to address a certain someone who has been my shadow, my little stalker recently.” She nods her head. “Yes, I am talking about Ryan. I still can’t wrap my head around you and why you decided to make it your personal mission in life to be a pain in my ass. You attacked me twice now. Is it really all because I chose not to compete in Taking Hold of the Flame? Hell, you would have had to overcome thirty nine other competitors regardless of whether it was me in the match or not. Me bowing out changed very little for you. I don’t believe that’s it. I think there’s more to it. Maybe you want to make a name for yourself at my expense? Unfortunately you have the same problem ol’ Sal Darius has; you have a bit of a temper. You still haven’t gotten over the fact that you couldn’t beat Selena Frost. You’re pissed that you couldn’t beat Amelia Nevado. I wonder how it feels now that you lost to La Pequina Luz, the other member of Light in the Darkness? But you just can’t let anything go. If you want a match all you have to do is ask, mate. These blindside attacks are not necessary. I’ve said it from the very beginning, all I want is competition. You may have lost to Selena, Amelia, and Luz, but you have taken them all to their limit. You are also a former Television Champion. I find you extremely annoying but I still give credit where it is due, you are damn good in the ring, and you just the kind of competition I want. You never needed to jump me from behind. All you needed to do was ask. But consider this a warning; keep out of my business. Otherwise our match, when it does happen, will not end well for you.” Braddock shuts her eyes.

“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”