12-05-2025, 08:19 AM
2 of 2
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December 1st, 2025
London, England
On Camera
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The street outside the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School had always been a strange blend of pride and melancholy, and on this particular morning it felt even more so. The sky hung low and gray, the kind of London overcast that didn’t quite rain but hinted at it constantly, leaving the air thick with cool dampness. Puddles from the night before clung to the cracked pavement, reflecting the pale daylight in broken pieces. Glory Braddock stood just outside the school’s door, staring up at the weather beaten sign hanging above the entrance. The edges of the sign were chipped, and rust had crept into the metal brackets holding it in place. It looked like it had survived a war. Glenn would have loved that. He had insisted from the beginning that the school should never look pristine. The building itself lived up to his philosophy. The bricks were discolored in places, darkened from years of rain, smog, and the occasional careless trainee kicking mud onto the walls. The front door looked like it had endured more than a few frustrated slams from students who stormed out mid-training session. The small windows flanking it were clouded from age, their frames flaking paint. Glory shifted her weight, boots scuffing the pavement. Today, she wore dark denim jeans worn in all the right places, a fitted royal purple t-shirt, and a lightweight leather jacket thrown over it for warmth. Her long blonde hair was down, brushing against her shoulders and catching the faint breeze, though she reached up occasionally to tuck strands back behind her ears. Her face carried nothing but sheer determination. Coming here always brought it out of her. This place wasn’t just a school; it was the foundation of everything she’d built, everything she’d become. The years spent training here, the nights she’d argued with her father about technique or direction, the early mornings when she’d show up before dawn just to impress him.
“I know what you’re thinking…here she is again! Standing in front of her old man’s wrestling school!” The British Bombshell shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah! You got me! I came back to my comfort zone. I returned to what felt right. But can you blame a girl for wanting to return to her roots, to comfort, especially after a heartbreaking defeat at Under Attack…and yeah, I’ll address that in a moment…but first I want to talk about this building behind me. Usually when I come here I blab on and on about how it represents my heritage, my legacy, and so on. You’ve heard that before and since I don’t plan on quizzing any of you on it I won’t put you through another lesson about it. Instead I want to talk about the building itself. Does it look visually appealing? What about its aesthetics?” The British Bombshell snickers.
“I have to admit, my father was never the most visually appealing of individuals. He was the first to admit that he didn’t look like some Greek god. This building lives up to the very heart and soul of Glenn Braddock. This building and its aesthetics…or lack thereof…might look like some run down abandoned rat trap to some visitor but to the people of London, where the Braddock name is well known and widely respected, they know better. They know that this place is still living and breathing professional wrestling. It looks the way it does because my father didn’t want it to be visually appealing. My father was very much opposed to the glitz and glamour of professional wrestling. When I made my professional debut in 2008 this business had already long since changed into a big spectacle and my father hated it. ‘Wrestling is not a boutique business’ he would say, or ‘wrestling is not ballet or some other fancy art form’ is another of his sayings. ‘Wrestling is not supposed to be beautiful because while there is the thrill of victory there is always the agony of defeat.’” Braddock pauses, she lets the words sink in for a moment.
“That brings me to Under Attack. I had taken the ultimate gamble by dropping out of Taking Hold of the Flame and choosing instead to EARN my way to a title match by winning as many matches as possible. Hell, I almost got to ten in a row before I got my match against Cid Turner. I’m not too upset over not getting that magic number ten because, I mean, Syren was supposed to reach ten in a row before challenging for the world title but she was magically exempt simply for being Syren. Nevertheless, I was proud of what I achieved. I was proud that I ran the gauntlet and beat anyone and everyone SCW dared put in front of me. I proved to the world that you do not need Taking Hold of the Flame to get a title shot. I proved that the old fashioned way still works.” She pauses for a moment to sigh. “Unfortunately things did not end on a high note. In my ideal world this would have ended with me as the SCW World Champion. Wrestling is not a fairy tale and, as my father said, it is damn sure not beautiful. It is agony and in this case, Cid Turner was simply better on that night.” Glory shakes her head.
“But I am NOT finished! I am NOT done! I already proved that the old fashioned way is still relevant! I proved that you can work your way to the top, that you can earn title shots without taking shortcuts. I did it once and I will do it again. The road is clear; once again I go through any obstacle this promotion sees fit to put in my path. If that path runs through monsters, upstarts, the United States Championship, Adrenaline Championship, hell, the tag team championship…whatever comes my way, I am ready for it! I am ready for the challenge and I am ready to make this journey once again because I will not stop until I am the SCW World Champion!” The British Bombshell points a finger at the camera.
“Amelia Novado, I heard what you had to say on Breakdown. You had your own disappointment against Cid Turner. You have your own designs to work your way back to the top. And you want to face yours truly one on one. Well, in case you didn’t catch my response on social media…I ACCEPT!” She smirks. “You’re right, I can count on you to give me a fair fight, and that’s ultimately what this sport is about; fair competition, two warriors in the center of the ring seeing who is the best. You have that same mindset and that’s why I respect you. So if you want to dance one more time, let’s do it. I accept your challenge. We are each on our own journeys back to the top of the mountain. Our paths will cross and I look forward to it.” She smirks.
“But my journey back to the top starts with you, Gavin Taylor.” She chuckles. “Now we have done this dance before, haven’t we? Under Attack 2020, I beat you to retain the SCW Adrenaline Championship. Do you remember what happened that night, Mr. All Star? If you don’t, I forgive you. I mean, you DID lose consciousness after I choked you out with Shekhinah Glory. Then we wrestled again last year in March. Do you remember THAT match, Gavin? You might not because once again I cut the oxygen to your brain when I CHOKED! YOU! OUT!” Braddock grins sadistically and holds up two fingers.
“Two matches…twice I choked you out with Shekhinah Glory. And there’s no amount of propaganda you can do to wipe that one away, big shot. That’s not fake news, that’s real. That’s reality. The reality, the statistics, the experts, every single talking head you can find says the same exact thing…you CANNOT beat me. How is that going to work with your little spin, Gavin? How will your propaganda machine play this one? How can you possibly make two straight SUBMISSION LOSSES to The British Bombshell sound like a good thing? You might want to get your new pal, the spiritual leader of yours, Religious Wright to say few dozen prayers for you, because it will take true divine intervention for you to finally do what you have yet to do; defeat Glory Braddock one on one.”
The British Bombshell turns and gazes back behind her at the run down building that is her father’s legacy, The Glenn Braddock Wrestling School. Glory then turns back to face the camera. A confident grin is formed across her face.
“This building behind me serves a dual purpose. It doesn’t just represent my journey back to world title contention, it also symbolizes this fight between you and me. You and I couldn’t be any more different, Gavin. I have always been the blue collar workhorse veteran, I am the one who chose to ditch the fancy shortcuts and gimmicks and instead fight one match after another to earn a world title match the old fashioned way. Whereas you have always been one to take any shortcut you can think of, even the outright delusional ones. Seriously, who the hell told you that your little contract…greatest contract ever, a splendid contract…is something legitimate? Who told you that parading around with a fake piece of paper made you a contender? That is the lamest shortcut ever, especially because so far it has gotten you nowhere. You surrounded yourself with a spin machine consisting of Jenni Anderson, bodyguards, and a spiritual advisor to help you get, what? The United States Championship…of the World?” She snickers. “How has your spin machine worked out for you? Not too good from where I stand. You don’t have any title. You are still stuck in neutral. You are still going absolutely nowhere.” Braddock shakes her head.
“You hold your silly little rallies. You come up with your stupid little catchphrases…Make America Gavin Again…newsflash, Gavin, no one is buying it. No one cares. And once again, that glitz and glamour of your Make America Gavin movement is getting you and your career absolutely nowhere. Sure, this new shtick of yours has gotten you noticed, it has gotten you some spotlight. But somewhere deep down in that delusional little head of yours, you have to realize that the only ‘spotlight’ it has gotten you is that of the joke. People are not laughing with you, they are laughing at you.” Glory smirks knowingly.
“Hell, I’m not surprised, not in the least. This Make America Gavin Again crap might be your latest fixation but you have always been caught up in being some charismatic idealogue wrapped up and obsessing o ver the glitz and glamour of the wrestling spotlight. In the five plus years I have been kicking your ass, I have known you to use countless monikers; The All Star isn’t enough for you, is it? Franchise Player? Real World Jedi? MVP of Life? Obscenely Naturally Talented?” She shakes her head. “You are obscene alright, mate, but not in your natural talent. You are obscene at how many nicknames you can give yourself. And your most recent is America’s Favorite Wrestler.” Braddock points at the camera and then back at herself.
“That’s YOU…but me?” She smirks. “I have never needed that many nicknames or monikers to justify myself. Hell, I don’t need any nicknames to justify how good I am. While you have a few dozen nicknames that you bestowed upon yourself, I only have TWO nicknames and both them were bestowed upon me by wrestling fans around the world…The British Bombshell is one because I am explosive inside of the ring. No one can stop me when I catch fire. And the other is Best in the World and I earned that one through eighteen world championships and four professional wrestling halls of fame. I earned that through hard work and dedication. I earned all of it myself. That’s something you will never be able to say, just like you will never be able to say that you beat Glory Braddock.” She shuts her eyes. “Sic Semper Tyrannis…”
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December 1st, 2025
London, England
On Camera
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The street outside the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School had always been a strange blend of pride and melancholy, and on this particular morning it felt even more so. The sky hung low and gray, the kind of London overcast that didn’t quite rain but hinted at it constantly, leaving the air thick with cool dampness. Puddles from the night before clung to the cracked pavement, reflecting the pale daylight in broken pieces. Glory Braddock stood just outside the school’s door, staring up at the weather beaten sign hanging above the entrance. The edges of the sign were chipped, and rust had crept into the metal brackets holding it in place. It looked like it had survived a war. Glenn would have loved that. He had insisted from the beginning that the school should never look pristine. The building itself lived up to his philosophy. The bricks were discolored in places, darkened from years of rain, smog, and the occasional careless trainee kicking mud onto the walls. The front door looked like it had endured more than a few frustrated slams from students who stormed out mid-training session. The small windows flanking it were clouded from age, their frames flaking paint. Glory shifted her weight, boots scuffing the pavement. Today, she wore dark denim jeans worn in all the right places, a fitted royal purple t-shirt, and a lightweight leather jacket thrown over it for warmth. Her long blonde hair was down, brushing against her shoulders and catching the faint breeze, though she reached up occasionally to tuck strands back behind her ears. Her face carried nothing but sheer determination. Coming here always brought it out of her. This place wasn’t just a school; it was the foundation of everything she’d built, everything she’d become. The years spent training here, the nights she’d argued with her father about technique or direction, the early mornings when she’d show up before dawn just to impress him.
“I know what you’re thinking…here she is again! Standing in front of her old man’s wrestling school!” The British Bombshell shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah! You got me! I came back to my comfort zone. I returned to what felt right. But can you blame a girl for wanting to return to her roots, to comfort, especially after a heartbreaking defeat at Under Attack…and yeah, I’ll address that in a moment…but first I want to talk about this building behind me. Usually when I come here I blab on and on about how it represents my heritage, my legacy, and so on. You’ve heard that before and since I don’t plan on quizzing any of you on it I won’t put you through another lesson about it. Instead I want to talk about the building itself. Does it look visually appealing? What about its aesthetics?” The British Bombshell snickers.
“I have to admit, my father was never the most visually appealing of individuals. He was the first to admit that he didn’t look like some Greek god. This building lives up to the very heart and soul of Glenn Braddock. This building and its aesthetics…or lack thereof…might look like some run down abandoned rat trap to some visitor but to the people of London, where the Braddock name is well known and widely respected, they know better. They know that this place is still living and breathing professional wrestling. It looks the way it does because my father didn’t want it to be visually appealing. My father was very much opposed to the glitz and glamour of professional wrestling. When I made my professional debut in 2008 this business had already long since changed into a big spectacle and my father hated it. ‘Wrestling is not a boutique business’ he would say, or ‘wrestling is not ballet or some other fancy art form’ is another of his sayings. ‘Wrestling is not supposed to be beautiful because while there is the thrill of victory there is always the agony of defeat.’” Braddock pauses, she lets the words sink in for a moment.
“That brings me to Under Attack. I had taken the ultimate gamble by dropping out of Taking Hold of the Flame and choosing instead to EARN my way to a title match by winning as many matches as possible. Hell, I almost got to ten in a row before I got my match against Cid Turner. I’m not too upset over not getting that magic number ten because, I mean, Syren was supposed to reach ten in a row before challenging for the world title but she was magically exempt simply for being Syren. Nevertheless, I was proud of what I achieved. I was proud that I ran the gauntlet and beat anyone and everyone SCW dared put in front of me. I proved to the world that you do not need Taking Hold of the Flame to get a title shot. I proved that the old fashioned way still works.” She pauses for a moment to sigh. “Unfortunately things did not end on a high note. In my ideal world this would have ended with me as the SCW World Champion. Wrestling is not a fairy tale and, as my father said, it is damn sure not beautiful. It is agony and in this case, Cid Turner was simply better on that night.” Glory shakes her head.
“But I am NOT finished! I am NOT done! I already proved that the old fashioned way is still relevant! I proved that you can work your way to the top, that you can earn title shots without taking shortcuts. I did it once and I will do it again. The road is clear; once again I go through any obstacle this promotion sees fit to put in my path. If that path runs through monsters, upstarts, the United States Championship, Adrenaline Championship, hell, the tag team championship…whatever comes my way, I am ready for it! I am ready for the challenge and I am ready to make this journey once again because I will not stop until I am the SCW World Champion!” The British Bombshell points a finger at the camera.
“Amelia Novado, I heard what you had to say on Breakdown. You had your own disappointment against Cid Turner. You have your own designs to work your way back to the top. And you want to face yours truly one on one. Well, in case you didn’t catch my response on social media…I ACCEPT!” She smirks. “You’re right, I can count on you to give me a fair fight, and that’s ultimately what this sport is about; fair competition, two warriors in the center of the ring seeing who is the best. You have that same mindset and that’s why I respect you. So if you want to dance one more time, let’s do it. I accept your challenge. We are each on our own journeys back to the top of the mountain. Our paths will cross and I look forward to it.” She smirks.
“But my journey back to the top starts with you, Gavin Taylor.” She chuckles. “Now we have done this dance before, haven’t we? Under Attack 2020, I beat you to retain the SCW Adrenaline Championship. Do you remember what happened that night, Mr. All Star? If you don’t, I forgive you. I mean, you DID lose consciousness after I choked you out with Shekhinah Glory. Then we wrestled again last year in March. Do you remember THAT match, Gavin? You might not because once again I cut the oxygen to your brain when I CHOKED! YOU! OUT!” Braddock grins sadistically and holds up two fingers.
“Two matches…twice I choked you out with Shekhinah Glory. And there’s no amount of propaganda you can do to wipe that one away, big shot. That’s not fake news, that’s real. That’s reality. The reality, the statistics, the experts, every single talking head you can find says the same exact thing…you CANNOT beat me. How is that going to work with your little spin, Gavin? How will your propaganda machine play this one? How can you possibly make two straight SUBMISSION LOSSES to The British Bombshell sound like a good thing? You might want to get your new pal, the spiritual leader of yours, Religious Wright to say few dozen prayers for you, because it will take true divine intervention for you to finally do what you have yet to do; defeat Glory Braddock one on one.”
The British Bombshell turns and gazes back behind her at the run down building that is her father’s legacy, The Glenn Braddock Wrestling School. Glory then turns back to face the camera. A confident grin is formed across her face.
“This building behind me serves a dual purpose. It doesn’t just represent my journey back to world title contention, it also symbolizes this fight between you and me. You and I couldn’t be any more different, Gavin. I have always been the blue collar workhorse veteran, I am the one who chose to ditch the fancy shortcuts and gimmicks and instead fight one match after another to earn a world title match the old fashioned way. Whereas you have always been one to take any shortcut you can think of, even the outright delusional ones. Seriously, who the hell told you that your little contract…greatest contract ever, a splendid contract…is something legitimate? Who told you that parading around with a fake piece of paper made you a contender? That is the lamest shortcut ever, especially because so far it has gotten you nowhere. You surrounded yourself with a spin machine consisting of Jenni Anderson, bodyguards, and a spiritual advisor to help you get, what? The United States Championship…of the World?” She snickers. “How has your spin machine worked out for you? Not too good from where I stand. You don’t have any title. You are still stuck in neutral. You are still going absolutely nowhere.” Braddock shakes her head.
“You hold your silly little rallies. You come up with your stupid little catchphrases…Make America Gavin Again…newsflash, Gavin, no one is buying it. No one cares. And once again, that glitz and glamour of your Make America Gavin movement is getting you and your career absolutely nowhere. Sure, this new shtick of yours has gotten you noticed, it has gotten you some spotlight. But somewhere deep down in that delusional little head of yours, you have to realize that the only ‘spotlight’ it has gotten you is that of the joke. People are not laughing with you, they are laughing at you.” Glory smirks knowingly.
“Hell, I’m not surprised, not in the least. This Make America Gavin Again crap might be your latest fixation but you have always been caught up in being some charismatic idealogue wrapped up and obsessing o ver the glitz and glamour of the wrestling spotlight. In the five plus years I have been kicking your ass, I have known you to use countless monikers; The All Star isn’t enough for you, is it? Franchise Player? Real World Jedi? MVP of Life? Obscenely Naturally Talented?” She shakes her head. “You are obscene alright, mate, but not in your natural talent. You are obscene at how many nicknames you can give yourself. And your most recent is America’s Favorite Wrestler.” Braddock points at the camera and then back at herself.
“That’s YOU…but me?” She smirks. “I have never needed that many nicknames or monikers to justify myself. Hell, I don’t need any nicknames to justify how good I am. While you have a few dozen nicknames that you bestowed upon yourself, I only have TWO nicknames and both them were bestowed upon me by wrestling fans around the world…The British Bombshell is one because I am explosive inside of the ring. No one can stop me when I catch fire. And the other is Best in the World and I earned that one through eighteen world championships and four professional wrestling halls of fame. I earned that through hard work and dedication. I earned all of it myself. That’s something you will never be able to say, just like you will never be able to say that you beat Glory Braddock.” She 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)