SCW Underground Championship Breakdown Turmoil (Open to everyone)

[Braddock]

2 of 2
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February 14th, 2026
London, England
Off Camera
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The Braddock Wrestling School sat on a narrow London side street that most tourists would never bother walking down. The brick exterior was weathered and slightly darkened from years of rain, the sign above the entrance simple and practical rather than flashy. Inside, the building felt older than the name suggested. The hallway floors creaked in certain spots, and the faint scent of disinfectant mingled permanently with the smell of canvas, metal, and old sweat that had long since seeped into the bones of the place. The main training hall was wide but not polished. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting an honest white glow that left no shadows to hide in. The walls were painted a plain off white that had dulled over time, scuffed in places where equipment had brushed against them. At the center of the room stood the ring. It was full size, sturdy, and unmistakably built for real work rather than display. The apron bore the school’s name in bold black lettering that had cracked slightly along the folds. The ropes were tightly wound and wrapped in tape that had been replaced countless times. The turnbuckles were padded but worn, their corners softened by years of impact. Beneath the ring, thick black mats stretched outward, functional and slightly faded. The canvas itself carried faint stains and darker patches that told the story of drills, mistakes, victories, and long afternoons that stretched into evenings.

Glory Braddock stood inside the ring near one corner, her boots planted firmly against the canvas as she adjusted the tape around her wrists. She wore a fitted black athletic tank that hugged her frame without ornament, paired with dark wrestling shorts that allowed freedom of movement without distraction. Her boots were a deep charcoal color, laced tightly up her calves, the leather creased from years of use. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, practical and secure, though a few strands had already loosened and brushed against her neck. Across from her stood Sophie O’Brian, rolling her neck slowly from side to side as she loosened up. She wore a deep forest green sports top that contrasted with her dark brunette hair, which was braided neatly down her back to keep it from interfering once they began. Her leggings were black and form fitting, the fabric matte and unadorned, tucked cleanly into her boots. Her boots were black as well but trimmed subtly in white along the laces, giving them a crisp edge. Her hands were already taped, the white wraps bright against her skin. Mark O’Brian stood a few steps away from them, leaning back briefly against the ropes before stepping forward again. He was taller than both women, his presence filling the ring in a different way. He wore a sleeveless dark gray athletic shirt that revealed broad shoulders and well defined arms, the fabric clinging lightly to his torso. His wrestling tights were black with a simple silver stripe running down the outer seam of each leg, understated but sharp. His boots were solid black, heavier in appearance than Sophie’s, the soles thick and grounded. His long black hair was tied back loosely, though it still brushed against his upper back. The faint beard along his jaw and the defined goatee at his chin gave his face a rugged edge, contrasting with the concentration in his eyes.

“I think you’re crazy.” Mark says.

“Crazy like a fox, you mean?” Glory says with a smirk on her face. “Seriously, this is precisely the kind of thing that my dad would have had me do.”

“For once I agree with The Missing Link over here.” Sophie remarks cooly, motioning to her half-brother Mark. “This sparring session you have cooked up is preposterous.”

“No, it’s perfect.” Glory remarks. “I am going to enter that Underground Title Open Invitational. So I need to be ready for anything. I need to be prepared for complete chaos. So many people will be in this bringing a variety of styles to the table.” She motions to Sophie and then to Mark. “You two represent basically the full spectrum of styles. Speed, technique, intelligence, power…”

“Obviously Mark does not bring intelligence to the table.” Sophie quips.

“...and on top of that, with so many people involved, the possibility of having to take on multiple opponents at once is high. So why not fight the greatest tag team I know? Total War!”

“Well when ya put it that way…” Mark starts to agree but Sophie then smacks him in the back of his head “....OWWW!”

“Your opinion is not needed you evolutionary mistake!” Sophie snaps. Then she turns to Glory. “Look, dear sister, your idea is indeed wise, and yes, if our father were alive he likely would have suggested such a course of action. BUT I also do not think our father would think you voluntarily entering yourself into that melee is a good idea.”

“It actually makes perfect sense.” Glory remarks, nodding her head. “I want to be challenged, what bigger challenge is there than placing myself into an environment where I am at my weakest and seeing if I can prevail? And on top of that, Kemal Yilmaz still wants to fight me in an ultimate submissions match. If that match ever does come to pass, this Underground Division will certainly help me prepare for a match where the ONLY WAY TO WIN is by submissions, hence no disqualifications.”

“You have beaten Kemal twice now.” Sophie holds up two fingers. “Don’t you think that perhaps he has learned his lesson?”

“You don’t follow The European Fiery Nation that much do you?” Glory smirks knowingly.

“I don’t think we’re gonna be able to talk her outta this, Sophie.” Mark says.

“I fear you are right.”

Mark stretched his arms across his chest, then rotated his shoulders, testing the space around him. The ropes dipped slightly under his weight when he leaned into them, then snapped back into place. His movements were slower than the women’s but no less precise, as though he were conserving energy rather than lacking it. When he looked at them, it was not casual. It was the look of someone preparing to collide with family and knowing that restraint would matter as much as strength. The air felt charged with anticipation, not loud or dramatic but steady and real. The ring ropes framed them against the worn walls. In this unpolished space, surrounded by history that did not need embellishment, they prepared to test one another, boots anchored, muscles warm, eyes sharp, ready to let the canvas speak for them.

Mark and Glory come together in a collar and elbow tie up. This doesn’t last very long before Sophie comes from behind and clips her leg, bringing The British Bombshell to her knees. Sophie kicks her in the ribs, stiff but not too stiff, just enough to knock her down. Mark goes for an elbow but Glory rolls out onto the apron.

“Hey! Bloody hell, what was that?!”

“You wanted to face Total War.” Sophie remarks cooly. “Two on one. Be careful what you wish for.”

Glory pokes Mark in the eyes and then grabs him by the head and drops down, hanging him neck first across the ring ropes. Sophie snickers in approval.

“That’s better…this is a no disqualification affair you are preparing for…so to hell with the rules.”

Glory grabs hold of Sophie and goes for a suplex to the outside but Sophie blocks. Mark comes to his sister’s aid and grabs hold of Glory. The half-siblings go for a suplex but Glory, using her great agility, lands on her feet. She chop blocks Mark’s legs, bringing him down to his knees. A knee strike knocks Mark down to the canvas.

“See? You don’t always have to use weapons to get ahead in the Underground.” Glory beams with a sense of pride. She spins around in time to spot her half-sister Sophie with that familiar lighter of hers, the one she uses to shoot her infamous fireball, The Scorched Earth Policy as she calls it. Glory flinches, bracing herself for the worst…

…but the fireball never comes. What does come, however, is laughter from Sophie O’Brian.

“You are correct, dear sister, weapons are not necessary, but LIMITING yourself by not using them is unwise. A cunning warrior will use everything at her disposal. If you limit yourself to just one method of attack, your enemy will know how to prepare for you.”

“So you think I should resort to weapons?” Glory sighs.

“I am suggesting that you learn how to wield them in case it becomes necessary. And considering the complete and utter chaos and anarchy that will be present on Breakdown for the Underground Championship, I imagine you WILL need it at some point.”

“You may be right.” Glory sighs. “Kimberly is in it and I know she will use weapons. The CEO has sent Polly on a mission to win that title and Polly has shown she has no problem using weapons. And that’s just confirmed entrants. Who knows who else might enter this thing?”

“Exactly.” Sophie says.

“So, uh,” Mark slowly and gingerly makes his way over “does this mean Glory wants us to hit her with chairs now?” Sophie smacks him in the back of his head. “OWWW!”

“No, we are NOT going to hit her with chairs, you ambivalent beast of burden!”

The British Bombshell chuckles. She enjoys spending time with Sophie and Mark O’Brian. These three grew up together. They were inseparable, the best of friends. They trained together. They made their professional wrestling debuts together. Little did she know that she and Sophie were sisters. Having them here with her again as support means the world to Glory Braddock.

“You know what’s funny? This isn’t even about the championship for me.”

“Oh?” Sophie arches her brow out of curiosity. “My Gloria, miss best in the world, doesn’t care about a title?”

“Don’t get me wrong, winning the Underground Title, even if just once during this whole debacle, would be incredible, as it would mean I held literally every title available to a wrestler in SCW. Technically I would have gone above and beyond just the Supreme Championship. But honestly? This is more about testing myself. I already know that I can outwrestle anyone. I already know I am one of the best submission wrestlers. I already know that I can survive against any number of wrestling styles as I have had to wrestle them all. But rarely have I voluntarily set foot into this kind of hardcore environment. Can I survive, or maybe even thrive, in an environment against some Underground greats?”

“If anyone can do it, Gloria, it is you.” Sophie smiles warmly. “You are one of the best to do this. You are the best of the three of us. I have no doubt that you will not only pass the test, you will WIN the Underground Championship.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Glory chuckles. “I’m glad someone believes in me.”

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On Camera
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The training hall at the Braddock Wrestling School was dark except for the lights directly above the ring. They cast a hard white glow downward, leaving the corners of the building in shadow and turning the squared circle into a stark island of brightness in the middle of the room. Inside the ring, the canvas was barely visible beneath what covered it. Steel chairs lay scattered in careless angles, some folded, some twisted open, their legs jutting upward like broken limbs. The metal reflected the overhead light in sharp glints that hurt the eyes if stared at too long. A few chairs bore dents deep enough to tell their own stories, seats warped inward, backs slightly bent from repeated impact. Barbed wire bats rested among them, their wooden handles scuffed and darkened from use. The coils of wire wrapped around each barrel caught the light in cruel, glittering lines. Tiny barbs protruded at irregular intervals, small and wicked, designed to tear rather than bruise. One bat had a faint stain near the tip, dried and brown, impossible to ignore once noticed.

Near the center of the ring, several small piles of thumbtacks had been poured directly onto the canvas. Thousands of tiny silver points faced upward in chaotic clusters, each one no larger than a fingernail, each one capable of turning a single misstep into agony. The light above them made the piles shimmer almost beautifully, like scattered jewelry, until the mind caught up with what they truly were. Closer to the ropes, shards of glass had been spread in uneven patches. Some pieces were jagged and long, others crushed into smaller fragments. They sparkled faintly, translucent and deceptive. A few larger shards still bore the faint green tint of broken bottles. The canvas beneath them was scratched and marked, faint streaks where glass had already been dragged or ground under pressure.

And in the middle of all of it sat “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. She was seated cross legged on a relatively clear section of canvas that had been left open, though not by much. Steel chairs surrounded her within arm’s reach. Thumbtacks lay only a foot away from where her boots rested. A barbed wire bat lay diagonally behind her, close enough that she could reach back and touch it without leaning far. She wore her ring gear. Royal purple tights fitted securely against her hips. A matching top that left her arms and shoulders bare under the harsh lights. Her boots were laced tightly, dark leather creased along the ankles, the soles resting flat against the mat. Her wrists were taped, white against her skin, though the tape had already begun to loosen slightly at the edges.Her long blonde hair fell freely around her shoulders and down her back, not tied back this time. Her expression was calm, almost distant. Not angry. Not excited. Focused.

“I know what you’re thinking… ‘Glory Braddock, what the hell are you thinking? Why are you going to risk your body, your well being, and potentially years of your career in one of the most insane matches thought of by Supreme Championship Wrestling? A gauntlet for the SCW Underground Championship?’” Braddock shrugs her shoulders. “Well that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? And before anyone tries to say it…Polly, you and your gal pals Colleen and Aisling use this same song and dance every time we meet, maybe because you cannot think of anything better to say, and you are in this match so I expect to hear it again…NO, I am NOT doing this just to win a championship.” She motions to herself. “I mean hell, do I look like the kind of girl who wants to be champion if an insane chaotic division like the Underground on a daily basis? That’s my cousin Kimberly’s playground, not mine.” Braddock shakes her head.

“And let me shoot down theory number two while I’m at it…NO, I am NOT doing this to help my family. Kimberly Williams is a big girl and if she wants to be Underground Champion she can win it on her own. Quite frankly, if I know Kim the way I think I do, I know she would NOT want me to help her cheat her way to the title. Kimmy may not want to admit it but she is like me deep down, she is a competitor, she wants to win the right way.”

“So that brings me to the real reason why I am throwing my name into this chaotic match. Once upon a time I called myself the best in the world and to this day I do consider myself to be one of the very best wrestlers walking God’s green earth. But one thing my father taught me is that you can never truly call yourself the best unless you are constantly tested, unless you continue to take on they very best the business has to offer, and you prove you are the best by taking on those challenges and overcoming them. This is what I have been about since last year when I backed out of Taking Hold of the Flame. I wanted to prove I was the best by taking on the best. I wanted to face the greatest of challenges and prove my worth by overcoming them. But after beating Kemal last week on Breakdown I came to realize something disturbing…” she pauses briefly.

“...I had grown content. I was happy thinking that I was the best, thinking that I was taking on the very best wrestlers in the world, when in reality there were challenges I had yet to face. Now our beloved CEO may think that the style of wrestling you find in the Underground isn’t a legitimate style, and some may agree, but they are wrong. That is a legitimate stye, even if it is a style that happens to play to my weaknesses. If I want to truly say that I am one of the best wrestlers in the world, I need to be able to say that I have taken on all challenges from all parts of the wrestling world. I have said that I wanted to take on new challenges and there is no greater challenge than placing myself at risk in an environment where I am at my weakest.” The British Bombshell slowly stands up, carefully so as to avoid stepping on any of the sharp objects surrounding her.

“So if I want to be that person who never backs down from a challenge, then why wouldn’t I take on arguably THE greatest challenge for me personally, a match that I damn sure am not favored, in an environment that is completely and entirely foreign to me?” She laughs. “It actually makes perfect sense when you think about it. And you know what? It may not be about the championship but I may just very well walk out of Cleveland as the new SCW Underground Champion. I may go above and beyond Supreme Championship status by winning literally every title currently available to a SCW wrestler right now. And if I DO become Underground Champion, then I will carry it with pride, I will defend it with honor, and I will bravely take on anyone who wants to take a shot at me.” She points a finger at the camera.

“That includes you, Kemal. You want a piece of me so damn bad. You want me in a submissions match. Well, mate, maybe we’ll meet up one more time in this Underground war? And maybe I will make this thing between us even more interesting by WINNING the Underground Title? You DO love that style, right mate?” She nods her head. “I know you do. In fact, I am willing to bet you will find your way into this match. If we do meet, best of luck, because you will need it. And that goes to anyone else who throws their name into the hat. Good luck, you will need it, because I am Glory Braddock, and I test myself against the very best, I take on the toughest challenges, and this is one challenge I intend to pass…with or without the Underground Title, I GUARANTEE that I will pass this test.” She shuts her eyes.

“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”