09-02-2025, 04:37 PM
2 of 2
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August 31st, 2025
London, England
Off Camera
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It’s been twenty-four hours since Glory Braddock and her husband, Kurt Logan, moved back into her old home neighborhood of London, England. The plan is to stay temporarily, until Braddock can find what she came here to find. The British Bombshell wants to rediscover her old persona, a side of herself that she fears is long gone. Braddock is convinced that the only way to potentially rediscover that old persona is to return to her roots, return to the lifestyle she grew up with, and the neighborhood she grew up in. Flooding herself with the memories and landmarks of her youth might be the one way The British Bombshell can find herself.
The streets of South London carried with them a certain heaviness that Glory Braddock had not felt in years. The terraced houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their brick faces worn and weather-stained, patched here and there with mismatched repairs that told stories of hard times and stubborn resilience. Narrow pavements ran along either side of the road, cracked in places, weeds pushing through. The air was cool, tinged with the smell of exhaust from passing cars and the faint trace of fried food drifting from a corner shop. It wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t polished, but it was home; Glory’s former home. This was the neighborhood she grew up in. Glory walked with measured steps, her heels tapping against the pavement in a rhythm that felt almost too sharp for these familiar streets. She was dressed in a simple coat over simple denim form fitting jeans, her blonde hair neatly tied back, yet there was something in her stride that revealed both pride and unease. Years of life in America dealing with the spotlight of being a successful professional wrestler, the corporate boardrooms during her entry into the cutthroat businessworld, international flights, all toughened her exterior, but here, surrounded by the echoes of her childhood, that polish felt out of place. Every corner carried a memory, even if the faces had changed.
Beside her, Kurt Logan cut a different figure. Broad-shouldered and tall, with the unmistakable bearing of a grizzled retired professional wrestler himself, he looked like he belonged more in a sports arena than these working-class streets. His dark jacket and jeans were casual enough, but there was no hiding the confidence in his posture, the steady way his eyes moved over the surroundings. Unlike Glory, he had no history here. He was an outsider, and yet he walked close to her, protective without being overbearing, absorbing her past through the landscape she showed him.
“You seem a little distant.” Kurt points out, finally breaking the silence after what seemed like ages.
“I might be a little distracted.” Glory admits with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Figured.” Kurt nods his head. “Careful, though. I know you’ve beaten him before, but your next opponent is Konrad Raab, he is big, he is dangerous, and he can be a real threat if you overlook him.”
“I would never overlook anyone.” Braddock remarks definitely, shaking her head. “If anything, I am more determined than ever heading into Breakdown. I have won six straight matches. I admit I was disappointed hearing that Amelia was cashing in her Trios for a shot at the SCW World Title, meaning I have to wait at least until after Apocalypse, but I am seeing this as just another opportunity to prove myself. The more matches I win, the more opponents I put down, the stronger my case for a SCW World Title Match becomes.” Glory smirks. “No one will deny me.”
“You were gutsy to drop out of Taking Hold of the Flame, knowing the backlash you would receive.” Kurt kisses her on her forehead. “But you have so far proven the critics wrong and I have no doubt you will beat Raab.”
“Thanks, love.”
“So why are you distracted then?” Kurt asks curiously. “If you’re so confident, what’s gotten in your head?”
“Its just all of this…” she waves her arms as she and Kurt continue to walk down the streets of her old neighborhood “...so many memories…”
And they continue their march. The neighborhood had aged. The corner store where kids once crowded for sweets now had barred windows and a fading sign. The small park across the street, where Glory had learned to ride her first bike, was still there, though the swings squeaked with rust and the grass grew uneven. A row of shuttered shops hinted at decline, while just beyond them, new cafés and flats signaled the creeping push of gentrification. It was a strange mix of what had been and what was becoming, and Glory felt caught between both. They moved past a familiar pub with hanging flower baskets spilling tired blooms, the scent of stale ale and cigarette smoke drifting from the doorway. Glory slowed for a moment, her hand brushing against the brick wall, as if touching the past could anchor her. Kurt noticed, his pace easing to match hers, though he didn’t press her with words. The sound of a passing bus roared by, shaking the ground beneath their feet before fading into the distance. For a moment, the only sound was the echo of their footsteps, two figures walking through streets that had shaped one of them and now opened themselves to the other.
“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks.
“These shops…all from my childhood, some are closed up and shuttered, some still open and going strong. That pub over there,” she smirks “me and my friends used to raise hell over there during my teenage years.”
“I can imagine.” Kurt chuckles. “You used to be quite the prankser.”
“Just being here around these places, these landmarks of my childhood, already its making me feel like the old me, the person I’m trying to recapture.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Kurt asks with a raised eyebrow. “That was the whole purpose of our vacation?”
“Yes, it is, but…” she sighs “...I am worried that this is just temporary. Once we leave to return to the United States, to return to Miami, I’ll regress.”
“I think you’re worrying yourself over nothing.” Kurt says as he places his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you have overcome greater obstacles and beaten tougher challenges than this in your life and career. You can beat this, Glory. You can do this. But…”
“But?”
“...you are a beautiful, kind, and compassionate woman as you are. If you think you need to change, you are crazy, because I love you as you are.”
As Glory and Kurt passed the rusted gates of a small park, their attention was drawn to a commotion near the swings where a group of teenagers had surrounded a smaller boy. The boy’s backpack lay tossed in the dirt, its contents scattered, while the others jeered, shoving him back and forth with careless cruelty. One of the bigger, larger kids snatched the boy’s cap and dangled it just out of reach, laughing as the others egged him on. The sharp, mocking voices carried easily in the stillness of the late afternoon, cutting through the hum of traffic. Glory’s jaw tightened as she slowed her pace, her eyes narrowing on the scene, while Kurt’s broad frame stiffened beside her, his instinctive protectiveness flashing across his face even before they exchanged a glance.
“Uh, babe?” Kurt whispers, sensing an anger rising up within his wife.
“Sorry, love, but I can’t stand here and watch this.”
“Wait…” Kurt says, unfortunately Glory doesn’t listen. She marches her way over to the group of teens with Kurt sighing out of frustration following her closely behind. The British Bombshell’s eyes are fired up, she is intense, almost as if this were one of her wrestling matches. Except she isn’t fueled by the desire to win. She is fueled by a desire to fight for what she feels is right. This feeling is very familiar to Braddock. This is who she used to be; this is much more like the Glory of old. Kurt can sense it, he can see it as she approaches the crowd of teenagers. He stands back and folds his arms over his chest and watches her.
“What’s going on here?” There is a sharpness and anger in Glory’s voice. “Is this the losers club collective? I mean, I see a bunch of fools with absolutely no self-esteem picking on some kid just to feel better about themselves.”
The bullying teens do not react to Braddock’s burst of righteous indignation. Instead they instantly disperse, running off in all different directions to get away from The British Bombshell, leaving only the one kid, the bullied child, behind. Glory just sighs and shakes her head.
“You lot are a disappointment.”
“Disappointment?” Kurt chuckles as he approaches. “What exactly did you want them to do?”
“I don’t know.” Glory shrugs her shoulders.
“Hey, you stopped them without having to break a sweat. I’d call that a win.” He winks.
“Fair enough.”
Kurt embraces Glory with a hug. Then he notices that the kid is still there, watching on, creating a bit of an awkward scene. Glory and Kurt break their embrace and they turn to face the child.
“Are you ok, mate?” Glory asks.
“Not really.” He sighs. “But I’ll be fine. Thanks for helping me.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m not one to sit idly by while bullies try to throw their weight around.” Glory remarks. She extends her hand. “My name is Glory Braddock.”
“Wait a sec…” the kid’s voice trails off as his eyes grow wide “...Braddock?” His awe is noticeable. Glory chuckles and nods her head.
“So you’ve heard of me?”
Who hasn’t heard of you?” He says excitedly. “Your family is legendary! Glenn Braddock’s wrestling school is a favorite hangout.”
“You really are a fan, then?” Glory smirks. “Tell you what, obviously with what we just saw go down here it wouldn’t hurt to learn a few defensive moves. Would you like me to teach you how to defend yourself?”
“I’d love to!” The boy says excitedly. “But…” he sighs “...I wouldn’t be able to pay you anything. I’m…homeless…”
This adds a whole new layer to the situation. But Glory doesn’t flinch, not one bit. She shakes her head.
“It doesn’t matter, mate. We’ll work something out.” Glory she shakes his hand again. The boy is grinning from ear to ear; he is obviously starstruck at seeing a celebrity like The British Bombshell.
“That would be great…my name is John.”
“Nice to meet you, John.”
Braddock watches the boy, John, walk off. What started out as a nightmare for him, being bullied by those kids, turned into a bright and shining moment for him because he got to meet a celebrity, a hero in London. Glory Braddock feels proud that she could play her part in giving this kid, a homeless kid, something to be happy about. Kurt wraps his arm around her shoulder which snaps her out of her trance.
“Did that make you feel good?”
“It made me feel tremendous.” Glory answers. “This is exactly what I am talking about, love, this is what the old me would do. Is chasing championships important? Of course. Is winning important? Yes. But sometimes there are things far more important than winning and this right there, helping a kid like that, that’s one of them.”
“It runs in the family.” Kurt winks.
“Right. Dear old dad had a reputation in England for helping people just like that kid. He took in Sophie and Mark O’Brian when they were about his age, maybe older, and trained him. What few know is that dad would often ignore the fee to train people to wrestle if they had financial troubles. Dad had his flaws, for sure, but I think in all, his positives outweigh the negatives.”
“I get the sense that you want to be more like your dad, then?”
“Why not?” Glory asks. “I spent years trying to run away from my dad’s legacy when all I could see were his flaws. It’s time I focus on what really made him a great man, what made him a good person, and try to be more like that.” She nods herr head. “That is what Glory Braddock is all about.”
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September 3rd, 2025
Philadelphia, PA
On Camera
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The camera begins to roll and immediately we spot none other than “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock, who stands confidently in the heart of Philadelphia. Her blonde hair, golden and sun-kissed, falls neatly around her shoulders, catching the afternoon light that filters down between the tall buildings. Her face is calm yet radiant, with soft but determined features, a faint smile resting on her lips as if she’s fully at ease in the bustling city around her. She wears a rich purple crew-neck t-shirt tucked neatly into fitted dark blue jeans, the color adding a vibrant pop against the more muted tones of the city street. Over her shirt, she sports a casual dark gray overshirt, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled down. The jeans fit snugly, emphasizing her athletic build while maintaining a practical, everyday appearance. Her hands rest casually at her waist. Behind her, Philadelphia hums with life; cars line the street, their metallic bodies catching the afternoon sun, while the domed architecture of a historic building rises proudly in the background, a reminder of the city’s storied past. The autumn air carries a clarity, the sunlight crisp against the brick-lined streets, adding warmth to the scene.
“April.” This is the one word that comes out of the mouth of The British Bombshell and she lets it hang there in the air for a few moments before saying anything else, all to let the viewers think about its deeper meaning. “April, at SCW Rebirth, was the last time I ever lost a match. Ever since then I have been motivated like never before. Ever since Rebirth I have been on a tear, going through each and every opponent SCW puts in front of me. It didn’t matter who the opponent was, it didn’t matter how far up or down the card I was on, I never complained once. I went out there week in and week out ever since Rebirth and took on all comers, I took on anyone willing to step up to The British Bombshell and I have put all of them down.” A smirk forms across. “That includes the newest incarnation of The Fall of Man…Waylon and Ryan…I put them down too, with my most recent victory over Ryan’s arrogant ass coming on the show of shows, the grandest stage, at Rise To Greatness.”
“Rebirth truly is an appropriate name because it was the beginning of a rebirth for yours truly. I needed that loss, I needed that wake up call, and you know, despite the differences we have had, maybe I needed that figurative slap in the face from CHBK to help light a fire under my ass, to help me realize that something has been wrong with my game. That isn’t to say that my game was lacking. In one year’s time I achieved Supreme Champion status by capturing the SCW World Tag Team Titles and then later went on to become a two time Adrenaline Champion. The problem is that I was too content. I was satisfied with what I had when I knew I could achieve so much more if I tapped into that old school wrestling mindset that once defined my entire being, that defined my father, the man known as “Britain’s Best” Glenn Braddock and who passed his teachings onto me. Rebirth was when I realized that I forgot those lessons and I forgot who I really and truly am. So I dropped out of Taking Hold of the Flame.” She shakes her head.
“But it wasn’t about entitlement or ego. It was me wanting to do things the old school way. It was about me choosing to bet on myself and bet on my abilities that I could earn my way back into title contention by beating as many opponents SCW decides to throw at me. That is what wrestling is all about. And I have been justified and vindicated with my big gamble by betting on myself, because I have been unbeaten since April. I have not lost a match since Rebirth.” Glory Braddock points a finger at the camera. “Now Rise To Greatness has ended and I move onto my next opponent, a familiar foe named Konrad Raab.”
“How’s it going, Konrad? Black Ice, Burned in Blood, leader of the European Fiery folks, by any other name you are still that same old violent bloke I recall from our many combats, whether it be singles or tag, we have had this dance before. I respect what you can do and I respect what you are capable of. So know that I am not looking past you when Breakdown rolls into town tomorrow night here in Philadelphia. Quite the contrary, looking past someone as dangerous as you would be insane and while I admit to making a few questionable judgment calls in my day, I am not crazy enough to look past any opponent. I would never look past any opponent. And when I am in the position I am in, on a winning streak that I don’t just want to see continue, a winning streak that I absolutely NEED to see continue, then oh yes, I will be taking you and the threat that you pose very seriously, Raab.”
“See, Konrad, I bet on myself that I could earn a shot at the SCW World Championship by beating anyone and everyone put in front of me. Let SCW line them up and I’ll knock them all down. I haven’t lost since I chose to bet on myself and what I have accomplished so far has been impressive. I have beaten some top guys including one of your European pals, the supposedly unstoppable Waylon Creek, Ryan LeCavalier, and even the current number one contender to the SCW World Championship Amelia Nevado. I don’t think it’s arrogant for me to say that kind of a winning streak is impressive. But as impressive as it is, it all would be for nothing if I slip up even one time and lose. Which means you, Konrad, are just like the others I have took on and put down since April; an opponent, an obstacle that I absolutely MUST overcome if I hope to get to where I want to be.” Her intense stare turns into a smirk.
“There’s something else you have in common with them, Raab. Well, something you have in common with at least one of my former opponents, namely the most recent one from Rise To Greatness, Ryan LeCavalier. You know what that is, Raab? You’ve both been choked out by The British Bombshell. Do you remember, mate, because I do; it was Tabula Rasa 2019. You lost your damn mind, got disqualified, and tried to destroy anyone in your path, including the referee and yours truly. But not only did you completely and utterly fail in your attempt to destroy me that night…” the intense glare returns to her face “...I CHOKED YOU OUT!” Glory nods her head.
“So you should remember damn well what I am capable, Konrad. Out of all of our previous encounters, despite everything you’ve thrown at me, I have always been able to walk away; maybe not always unscathed but I have always been able to walk away. You, on the other hand, I have proven that I can put you down to the point that you cannot walk away, that you need to be carted out on a stretcher. So if that’s the kind of violence you want then that’s the kind of violence I am capable of bringing to the game. That’s what makes me one of the best, Raab; adaptability. Technical wrestling may be my strength but I can adapt to any fighting style my opponent decides to throw at me, its why I have been able to overcome the odds and win again and again and again since April. I have taken opponents with a diverse background of styles and strategies and abilities and I have beaten them all.” Braddock shakes her head. “You will be no different and if I have to choke you out again then so be it.” The British Bombshell shuts her eyes.
“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”
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August 31st, 2025
London, England
Off Camera
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It’s been twenty-four hours since Glory Braddock and her husband, Kurt Logan, moved back into her old home neighborhood of London, England. The plan is to stay temporarily, until Braddock can find what she came here to find. The British Bombshell wants to rediscover her old persona, a side of herself that she fears is long gone. Braddock is convinced that the only way to potentially rediscover that old persona is to return to her roots, return to the lifestyle she grew up with, and the neighborhood she grew up in. Flooding herself with the memories and landmarks of her youth might be the one way The British Bombshell can find herself.
The streets of South London carried with them a certain heaviness that Glory Braddock had not felt in years. The terraced houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their brick faces worn and weather-stained, patched here and there with mismatched repairs that told stories of hard times and stubborn resilience. Narrow pavements ran along either side of the road, cracked in places, weeds pushing through. The air was cool, tinged with the smell of exhaust from passing cars and the faint trace of fried food drifting from a corner shop. It wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t polished, but it was home; Glory’s former home. This was the neighborhood she grew up in. Glory walked with measured steps, her heels tapping against the pavement in a rhythm that felt almost too sharp for these familiar streets. She was dressed in a simple coat over simple denim form fitting jeans, her blonde hair neatly tied back, yet there was something in her stride that revealed both pride and unease. Years of life in America dealing with the spotlight of being a successful professional wrestler, the corporate boardrooms during her entry into the cutthroat businessworld, international flights, all toughened her exterior, but here, surrounded by the echoes of her childhood, that polish felt out of place. Every corner carried a memory, even if the faces had changed.
Beside her, Kurt Logan cut a different figure. Broad-shouldered and tall, with the unmistakable bearing of a grizzled retired professional wrestler himself, he looked like he belonged more in a sports arena than these working-class streets. His dark jacket and jeans were casual enough, but there was no hiding the confidence in his posture, the steady way his eyes moved over the surroundings. Unlike Glory, he had no history here. He was an outsider, and yet he walked close to her, protective without being overbearing, absorbing her past through the landscape she showed him.
“You seem a little distant.” Kurt points out, finally breaking the silence after what seemed like ages.
“I might be a little distracted.” Glory admits with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Figured.” Kurt nods his head. “Careful, though. I know you’ve beaten him before, but your next opponent is Konrad Raab, he is big, he is dangerous, and he can be a real threat if you overlook him.”
“I would never overlook anyone.” Braddock remarks definitely, shaking her head. “If anything, I am more determined than ever heading into Breakdown. I have won six straight matches. I admit I was disappointed hearing that Amelia was cashing in her Trios for a shot at the SCW World Title, meaning I have to wait at least until after Apocalypse, but I am seeing this as just another opportunity to prove myself. The more matches I win, the more opponents I put down, the stronger my case for a SCW World Title Match becomes.” Glory smirks. “No one will deny me.”
“You were gutsy to drop out of Taking Hold of the Flame, knowing the backlash you would receive.” Kurt kisses her on her forehead. “But you have so far proven the critics wrong and I have no doubt you will beat Raab.”
“Thanks, love.”
“So why are you distracted then?” Kurt asks curiously. “If you’re so confident, what’s gotten in your head?”
“Its just all of this…” she waves her arms as she and Kurt continue to walk down the streets of her old neighborhood “...so many memories…”
And they continue their march. The neighborhood had aged. The corner store where kids once crowded for sweets now had barred windows and a fading sign. The small park across the street, where Glory had learned to ride her first bike, was still there, though the swings squeaked with rust and the grass grew uneven. A row of shuttered shops hinted at decline, while just beyond them, new cafés and flats signaled the creeping push of gentrification. It was a strange mix of what had been and what was becoming, and Glory felt caught between both. They moved past a familiar pub with hanging flower baskets spilling tired blooms, the scent of stale ale and cigarette smoke drifting from the doorway. Glory slowed for a moment, her hand brushing against the brick wall, as if touching the past could anchor her. Kurt noticed, his pace easing to match hers, though he didn’t press her with words. The sound of a passing bus roared by, shaking the ground beneath their feet before fading into the distance. For a moment, the only sound was the echo of their footsteps, two figures walking through streets that had shaped one of them and now opened themselves to the other.
“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks.
“These shops…all from my childhood, some are closed up and shuttered, some still open and going strong. That pub over there,” she smirks “me and my friends used to raise hell over there during my teenage years.”
“I can imagine.” Kurt chuckles. “You used to be quite the prankser.”
“Just being here around these places, these landmarks of my childhood, already its making me feel like the old me, the person I’m trying to recapture.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Kurt asks with a raised eyebrow. “That was the whole purpose of our vacation?”
“Yes, it is, but…” she sighs “...I am worried that this is just temporary. Once we leave to return to the United States, to return to Miami, I’ll regress.”
“I think you’re worrying yourself over nothing.” Kurt says as he places his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you have overcome greater obstacles and beaten tougher challenges than this in your life and career. You can beat this, Glory. You can do this. But…”
“But?”
“...you are a beautiful, kind, and compassionate woman as you are. If you think you need to change, you are crazy, because I love you as you are.”
As Glory and Kurt passed the rusted gates of a small park, their attention was drawn to a commotion near the swings where a group of teenagers had surrounded a smaller boy. The boy’s backpack lay tossed in the dirt, its contents scattered, while the others jeered, shoving him back and forth with careless cruelty. One of the bigger, larger kids snatched the boy’s cap and dangled it just out of reach, laughing as the others egged him on. The sharp, mocking voices carried easily in the stillness of the late afternoon, cutting through the hum of traffic. Glory’s jaw tightened as she slowed her pace, her eyes narrowing on the scene, while Kurt’s broad frame stiffened beside her, his instinctive protectiveness flashing across his face even before they exchanged a glance.
“Uh, babe?” Kurt whispers, sensing an anger rising up within his wife.
“Sorry, love, but I can’t stand here and watch this.”
“Wait…” Kurt says, unfortunately Glory doesn’t listen. She marches her way over to the group of teens with Kurt sighing out of frustration following her closely behind. The British Bombshell’s eyes are fired up, she is intense, almost as if this were one of her wrestling matches. Except she isn’t fueled by the desire to win. She is fueled by a desire to fight for what she feels is right. This feeling is very familiar to Braddock. This is who she used to be; this is much more like the Glory of old. Kurt can sense it, he can see it as she approaches the crowd of teenagers. He stands back and folds his arms over his chest and watches her.
“What’s going on here?” There is a sharpness and anger in Glory’s voice. “Is this the losers club collective? I mean, I see a bunch of fools with absolutely no self-esteem picking on some kid just to feel better about themselves.”
The bullying teens do not react to Braddock’s burst of righteous indignation. Instead they instantly disperse, running off in all different directions to get away from The British Bombshell, leaving only the one kid, the bullied child, behind. Glory just sighs and shakes her head.
“You lot are a disappointment.”
“Disappointment?” Kurt chuckles as he approaches. “What exactly did you want them to do?”
“I don’t know.” Glory shrugs her shoulders.
“Hey, you stopped them without having to break a sweat. I’d call that a win.” He winks.
“Fair enough.”
Kurt embraces Glory with a hug. Then he notices that the kid is still there, watching on, creating a bit of an awkward scene. Glory and Kurt break their embrace and they turn to face the child.
“Are you ok, mate?” Glory asks.
“Not really.” He sighs. “But I’ll be fine. Thanks for helping me.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m not one to sit idly by while bullies try to throw their weight around.” Glory remarks. She extends her hand. “My name is Glory Braddock.”
“Wait a sec…” the kid’s voice trails off as his eyes grow wide “...Braddock?” His awe is noticeable. Glory chuckles and nods her head.
“So you’ve heard of me?”
Who hasn’t heard of you?” He says excitedly. “Your family is legendary! Glenn Braddock’s wrestling school is a favorite hangout.”
“You really are a fan, then?” Glory smirks. “Tell you what, obviously with what we just saw go down here it wouldn’t hurt to learn a few defensive moves. Would you like me to teach you how to defend yourself?”
“I’d love to!” The boy says excitedly. “But…” he sighs “...I wouldn’t be able to pay you anything. I’m…homeless…”
This adds a whole new layer to the situation. But Glory doesn’t flinch, not one bit. She shakes her head.
“It doesn’t matter, mate. We’ll work something out.” Glory she shakes his hand again. The boy is grinning from ear to ear; he is obviously starstruck at seeing a celebrity like The British Bombshell.
“That would be great…my name is John.”
“Nice to meet you, John.”
Braddock watches the boy, John, walk off. What started out as a nightmare for him, being bullied by those kids, turned into a bright and shining moment for him because he got to meet a celebrity, a hero in London. Glory Braddock feels proud that she could play her part in giving this kid, a homeless kid, something to be happy about. Kurt wraps his arm around her shoulder which snaps her out of her trance.
“Did that make you feel good?”
“It made me feel tremendous.” Glory answers. “This is exactly what I am talking about, love, this is what the old me would do. Is chasing championships important? Of course. Is winning important? Yes. But sometimes there are things far more important than winning and this right there, helping a kid like that, that’s one of them.”
“It runs in the family.” Kurt winks.
“Right. Dear old dad had a reputation in England for helping people just like that kid. He took in Sophie and Mark O’Brian when they were about his age, maybe older, and trained him. What few know is that dad would often ignore the fee to train people to wrestle if they had financial troubles. Dad had his flaws, for sure, but I think in all, his positives outweigh the negatives.”
“I get the sense that you want to be more like your dad, then?”
“Why not?” Glory asks. “I spent years trying to run away from my dad’s legacy when all I could see were his flaws. It’s time I focus on what really made him a great man, what made him a good person, and try to be more like that.” She nods herr head. “That is what Glory Braddock is all about.”
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September 3rd, 2025
Philadelphia, PA
On Camera
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The camera begins to roll and immediately we spot none other than “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock, who stands confidently in the heart of Philadelphia. Her blonde hair, golden and sun-kissed, falls neatly around her shoulders, catching the afternoon light that filters down between the tall buildings. Her face is calm yet radiant, with soft but determined features, a faint smile resting on her lips as if she’s fully at ease in the bustling city around her. She wears a rich purple crew-neck t-shirt tucked neatly into fitted dark blue jeans, the color adding a vibrant pop against the more muted tones of the city street. Over her shirt, she sports a casual dark gray overshirt, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled down. The jeans fit snugly, emphasizing her athletic build while maintaining a practical, everyday appearance. Her hands rest casually at her waist. Behind her, Philadelphia hums with life; cars line the street, their metallic bodies catching the afternoon sun, while the domed architecture of a historic building rises proudly in the background, a reminder of the city’s storied past. The autumn air carries a clarity, the sunlight crisp against the brick-lined streets, adding warmth to the scene.
“April.” This is the one word that comes out of the mouth of The British Bombshell and she lets it hang there in the air for a few moments before saying anything else, all to let the viewers think about its deeper meaning. “April, at SCW Rebirth, was the last time I ever lost a match. Ever since then I have been motivated like never before. Ever since Rebirth I have been on a tear, going through each and every opponent SCW puts in front of me. It didn’t matter who the opponent was, it didn’t matter how far up or down the card I was on, I never complained once. I went out there week in and week out ever since Rebirth and took on all comers, I took on anyone willing to step up to The British Bombshell and I have put all of them down.” A smirk forms across. “That includes the newest incarnation of The Fall of Man…Waylon and Ryan…I put them down too, with my most recent victory over Ryan’s arrogant ass coming on the show of shows, the grandest stage, at Rise To Greatness.”
“Rebirth truly is an appropriate name because it was the beginning of a rebirth for yours truly. I needed that loss, I needed that wake up call, and you know, despite the differences we have had, maybe I needed that figurative slap in the face from CHBK to help light a fire under my ass, to help me realize that something has been wrong with my game. That isn’t to say that my game was lacking. In one year’s time I achieved Supreme Champion status by capturing the SCW World Tag Team Titles and then later went on to become a two time Adrenaline Champion. The problem is that I was too content. I was satisfied with what I had when I knew I could achieve so much more if I tapped into that old school wrestling mindset that once defined my entire being, that defined my father, the man known as “Britain’s Best” Glenn Braddock and who passed his teachings onto me. Rebirth was when I realized that I forgot those lessons and I forgot who I really and truly am. So I dropped out of Taking Hold of the Flame.” She shakes her head.
“But it wasn’t about entitlement or ego. It was me wanting to do things the old school way. It was about me choosing to bet on myself and bet on my abilities that I could earn my way back into title contention by beating as many opponents SCW decides to throw at me. That is what wrestling is all about. And I have been justified and vindicated with my big gamble by betting on myself, because I have been unbeaten since April. I have not lost a match since Rebirth.” Glory Braddock points a finger at the camera. “Now Rise To Greatness has ended and I move onto my next opponent, a familiar foe named Konrad Raab.”
“How’s it going, Konrad? Black Ice, Burned in Blood, leader of the European Fiery folks, by any other name you are still that same old violent bloke I recall from our many combats, whether it be singles or tag, we have had this dance before. I respect what you can do and I respect what you are capable of. So know that I am not looking past you when Breakdown rolls into town tomorrow night here in Philadelphia. Quite the contrary, looking past someone as dangerous as you would be insane and while I admit to making a few questionable judgment calls in my day, I am not crazy enough to look past any opponent. I would never look past any opponent. And when I am in the position I am in, on a winning streak that I don’t just want to see continue, a winning streak that I absolutely NEED to see continue, then oh yes, I will be taking you and the threat that you pose very seriously, Raab.”
“See, Konrad, I bet on myself that I could earn a shot at the SCW World Championship by beating anyone and everyone put in front of me. Let SCW line them up and I’ll knock them all down. I haven’t lost since I chose to bet on myself and what I have accomplished so far has been impressive. I have beaten some top guys including one of your European pals, the supposedly unstoppable Waylon Creek, Ryan LeCavalier, and even the current number one contender to the SCW World Championship Amelia Nevado. I don’t think it’s arrogant for me to say that kind of a winning streak is impressive. But as impressive as it is, it all would be for nothing if I slip up even one time and lose. Which means you, Konrad, are just like the others I have took on and put down since April; an opponent, an obstacle that I absolutely MUST overcome if I hope to get to where I want to be.” Her intense stare turns into a smirk.
“There’s something else you have in common with them, Raab. Well, something you have in common with at least one of my former opponents, namely the most recent one from Rise To Greatness, Ryan LeCavalier. You know what that is, Raab? You’ve both been choked out by The British Bombshell. Do you remember, mate, because I do; it was Tabula Rasa 2019. You lost your damn mind, got disqualified, and tried to destroy anyone in your path, including the referee and yours truly. But not only did you completely and utterly fail in your attempt to destroy me that night…” the intense glare returns to her face “...I CHOKED YOU OUT!” Glory nods her head.
“So you should remember damn well what I am capable, Konrad. Out of all of our previous encounters, despite everything you’ve thrown at me, I have always been able to walk away; maybe not always unscathed but I have always been able to walk away. You, on the other hand, I have proven that I can put you down to the point that you cannot walk away, that you need to be carted out on a stretcher. So if that’s the kind of violence you want then that’s the kind of violence I am capable of bringing to the game. That’s what makes me one of the best, Raab; adaptability. Technical wrestling may be my strength but I can adapt to any fighting style my opponent decides to throw at me, its why I have been able to overcome the odds and win again and again and again since April. I have taken opponents with a diverse background of styles and strategies and abilities and I have beaten them all.” Braddock shakes her head. “You will be no different and if I have to choke you out again then so be it.” The British Bombshell shuts her eyes.
“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”
![[Image: qyA5u6K.png]](https://i.imgur.com/qyA5u6K.png)
SCW World Champion 1x
SCW United States Champion 1x
SCW Adrenaline Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
SCW World Tag Team Champion 1x (w/Brittany Lohan)
Supreme Champion
2019 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Regan Street & Kellen Jeffries)
2020 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Ace Marshall & David Helms)
SCW Adrenaline Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
SCW World Tag Team Champion 1x (w/Brittany Lohan)
Supreme Champion
2019 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Regan Street & Kellen Jeffries)
2020 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Ace Marshall & David Helms)