04-17-2026, 01:56 PM
2 of 2
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April 14th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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Miami International Airport moved with its usual restless rhythm, a constant flow of motion that never quite slowed no matter the hour. The wide terminal stretched out in long polished corridors, the floors gleaming under bright overhead lights that reflected every passing figure. Announcements echoed at regular intervals, voices calm and practiced as they listed arrivals, delays, gate changes. The sound blended with the rolling of suitcases, the murmur of conversations in a dozen different accents, and the occasional burst of laughter from travelers relieved to have reached their destination. Large glass windows lined one side of the terminal, letting in the bright Florida daylight. Beyond them, planes taxied slowly across the runway, their engines humming in the distance. Inside, the air was cool and controlled, a contrast to the heavy warmth waiting just beyond the sliding doors.
Glory Braddock stood near the arrivals area, positioned just far enough back from the main crowd to avoid being swallowed by it. She leaned lightly against a metal railing, one foot resting slightly ahead of the other, her posture relaxed but attentive. Her eyes moved occasionally toward the doors where passengers were beginning to filter through, scanning faces without appearing impatient. She was dressed simply in dark comfortably fit paired with a fitted short sleeved shirt in a muted gray tone. The fabric moved easily with her, practical and unrestrictive. A lightweight jacket was tied loosely around her waist, ready for later but unnecessary in the controlled temperature of the terminal. Her sneakers were well worn but clean, the kind built for standing and walking without discomfort. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, though a few strands had escaped and framed her face. The overhead lights caught in the lighter pieces of her hair, giving them a faint glow.
Next to her, Kurt Logan stood with far less ease. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his stance never quite settling into stillness. His arms crossed briefly over his chest before dropping again to his sides, then one hand moved to the back of his neck in a small, absent gesture. The movement repeated itself in different forms, subtle but constant, as though his body refused to fully relax. He wore dark jeans and a black T shirt; a light jacket hung open over the shirt, unzipped and shifting slightly each time he moved. His boots were planted firmly on the polished floor, though even they could not quite ground the nervous energy he carried. His hair looked as though he had run his hands through it more than once, leaving it slightly uneven. His jaw was set, though not in anger. It was the kind of tension that came from anticipation, from not quite knowing what to expect. His eyes flicked toward the arrivals doors, then away, then back again, never lingering too long in one place.
Around them, people gathered in small clusters, some holding signs, others standing on their toes to catch a first glimpse of someone emerging from behind the frosted glass doors. A child darted past, weaving between legs before being called back by a parent. A couple embraced tightly near the edge of the waiting area, their reunion drawing brief glances from those nearby before the moment passed.
Glory remained steady amid it all. She noticed Kurt’s movement without turning her head fully, her gaze still directed toward the doors. There was a quiet awareness in the way she stood, the same grounded presence she carried in every setting. She shifted her weight slightly, adjusting her stance, her shoulder brushing lightly against his arm in a small, almost absent contact.
“You seem nervous.” Glory states.
“I am.” He nods his head admittedly. “Honestly, you should be too.”
“Why should I be nervous?” Glory asks. “She’s my friend.
“Friend or not she sounds like nothing but trouble.”
“You didn’t have such concerns about my other friends; Frances and Melody. Remember them? We were a terror when we were younger.”
“That’s different and you know it.” Kurt says bluntly. “Melody and Frances were bullies. They were simply a bad influence and nothing more. But this friend seems downright criminal.”
“She’s not a criminal.” Glory shakes her head.
“Her family certainly is; according to you.”
“You’re right.” Glory nods her head. “Her family was involved in some criminal activities. Catalina De Luca…her friends call her Cat…”
“So I should call her Cat?”
“It would be nice.” Glory smirks. “But anyway, Cat is the daughter of a Sicilian mafia gangster. Cat and I first met on one my father’s wrestling tours in Italy.”
“Let me guess, her dad’s ‘family business’ had something to do with wrestling?”
“That’s how they made their money. They would influence booking, sponsorships, venue deals, gambling; just about everything in the European promotions, they were involved in it. Lots of shadowy business politics.”
“Let me ask you point blank, Gloria.” Kurt says. “Did her family fix any of your father’s matches? Did they help him in any way?”
“No, not like that.” Glory shakes her head. “They certainly wanted to but Glenn requested specifically that they keep out of his business and his matches. He did not want them helping him or hindering him in any way. Dad wanted to win or lose on his own merit.”
“How much did it cost him to convince the Sicilian mafia to keep out of his business?” Kurt asks, smirking. Glory shakes her head.
“Not a thing.”
“Seriously?” Kurt seems stunned. Glory just nods her head in affirmation. That’s surprising. I didn’t think the Braddock name carried such weight and respect that even the mafia obeyed Glenn Braddock.”
“It’s not quite like that.” Glory begins. “They did ask that, if the Braddock family could do them a favor in return one day, they would greatly appreciate.”
“Sounds like The Godfather.” Kurt chuckles. “One day I might call upon you to do a favor.”
“It was more of a request than a demand.” Glory states. “And this is my way of paying off that debt. Catalina wants to get as far away from the family business as possible. She doesn’t want to follow in her father’s criminal footsteps. She wants to make an honest living and so I am giving her that opportunity and, in return, this is me paying off my father’s debt.”
The arrivals doors slid open again with a soft mechanical sound, and another wave of passengers began to step through. Suitcases rolled behind them, conversations picked up mid sentence, and the steady flow continued. Kurt exhaled slowly, though the tension in his shoulders did not entirely fade. His hand returned briefly to the back of his neck before dropping again. His eyes fixed on the doorway now, more focused than before. Glory leaned forward just slightly, her attention narrowing, her posture tightening in a way that suggested the moment they had been waiting for was drawing closer. The terminal carried on around them, loud and busy and indifferent, while the space between the two of them held something quieter. Expectation. Memory. The weight of an old connection about to step through those doors and into the present.
Then Glory saw her.
Catalina De Luca stepped through the doorway with a presence that immediately separated her from the crowd around her. She moved with an effortless grace, each step measured without appearing deliberate, as though she had always carried herself that way without needing to think about it. Her dark hair fell in soft, glossy waves over her shoulders, rich and deep in color, catching the overhead light with a subtle sheen. It framed her face in a way that softened her features while still drawing attention to them. She wore a fitted dress in a warm ivory tone that contrasted beautifully against her complexion. The fabric was smooth and elegant, tailored closely at the waist before falling cleanly along her legs. The sleeves were light and refined, ending just above her elbows, and the neckline was simple but flattering, revealing just enough without feeling excessive. A slim belt accentuated her figure, its detail understated but intentional. Her shoes were heeled, not overly high but enough to give her posture a natural lift. The sound of them against the polished airport floor was soft but distinct as she walked. A structured handbag rested neatly in the crook of her arm, its leather immaculate, complementing the rest of her outfit without competing with it. There was something unmistakably feminine about her, not only in the way she dressed but in the way she moved, the way her hands adjusted a strand of hair behind her ear, the way her posture remained poised even as she scanned the crowd. She carried herself with quiet confidence, a kind of elegance that felt natural rather than performed.
Her eyes moved across the waiting area, searching. And then they found Glory. For a brief moment, everything else seemed to fall away. The noise of the terminal softened, the constant motion around them fading into the background as recognition settled between them. Catalina’s expression shifted instantly, her face brightening with warmth that felt genuine and unguarded. Glory straightened from her relaxed stance, the subtle tension in her posture giving way to something more immediate. She stepped forward without hesitation, closing the distance between them. Catalina did the same. They met just beyond the flow of arriving passengers, and the greeting came naturally, without awkwardness or pause. Catalina reached for Glory first, her arms wrapping around her with an ease that spoke of familiarity and history. Glory returned the embrace just as firmly, one hand resting against Catalina’s back, the other steady at her shoulder. The contrast between them was striking even in that moment. Catalina’s refined elegance against Glory’s grounded simplicity. Soft fabric against worn denim. Polished grace against quiet strength. Yet neither seemed out of place beside the other.
“Cat!” Glory exclaims. “God I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Glory!”
They held the embrace for a moment longer than what would have been expected between acquaintances. This was not a casual reunion. There was weight behind it, something carried from years before that had not faded with distance or time. When they pulled apart, Catalina’s hands lingered briefly on Glory’s arms, as if confirming that she was really there. Her smile remained, warm and genuine, her eyes studying Glory with a quiet intensity.
“How long has it been?” Catalina asks. “Sixteen years?”
“Has to have been longer.” Glory states. “Dad had his career ending injury when I was sixteen and that meant no more traveling, no more wrestling, no more shows.”
“Right.” Catalina nods her head. “How is your father these days?”
“He, uh…he passed away, Cat.”
“Oh I’m so sorry.” Catalina says quietly. “I had no idea.”
“It’s ok.” Glory nods her head. “Dad is with me in spirit.”
“And I just know he’s so proud of you.” Catalina says, beaming from ear to ear. “Me and the family have impressed with what you have accomplished. Seventeen world championships, eclipsing anything your dad accomplished. And we heard you run your own company now. Is that right?”
“That’s right.” Glory nods her head. “And that’s partly why I need your help and why I have flown you here to Miami. I need your help, Cat. It will be a tough job, but…”
“Anything at all.” Catalina shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, I will do anything to get away from the ‘family business’ so to speak.”
A few steps away, Kurt watched the exchange. He remained where he was, his posture still carrying that underlying tension, though now it had sharpened into something more focused. His gaze moved between the two women, taking in Catalina’s presence, her composure, the ease with which she had stepped into Glory’s space. His hands settled at his sides, still for the moment, but his shoulders remained slightly tight. The terminal continued to move around them, unaware of the shift that had just taken place in that small pocket of space. Announcements carried on overhead. Travelers passed by without a second glance. But for Glory and Catalina, the reunion stood apart from all of it. Two lives reconnecting in the middle of a place built for constant arrivals and departures, the past stepping forward into the present with a familiarity that needed no explanation.
=====
==========
April 14th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
==========
Miami International Airport moved with its usual restless rhythm, a constant flow of motion that never quite slowed no matter the hour. The wide terminal stretched out in long polished corridors, the floors gleaming under bright overhead lights that reflected every passing figure. Announcements echoed at regular intervals, voices calm and practiced as they listed arrivals, delays, gate changes. The sound blended with the rolling of suitcases, the murmur of conversations in a dozen different accents, and the occasional burst of laughter from travelers relieved to have reached their destination. Large glass windows lined one side of the terminal, letting in the bright Florida daylight. Beyond them, planes taxied slowly across the runway, their engines humming in the distance. Inside, the air was cool and controlled, a contrast to the heavy warmth waiting just beyond the sliding doors.
Glory Braddock stood near the arrivals area, positioned just far enough back from the main crowd to avoid being swallowed by it. She leaned lightly against a metal railing, one foot resting slightly ahead of the other, her posture relaxed but attentive. Her eyes moved occasionally toward the doors where passengers were beginning to filter through, scanning faces without appearing impatient. She was dressed simply in dark comfortably fit paired with a fitted short sleeved shirt in a muted gray tone. The fabric moved easily with her, practical and unrestrictive. A lightweight jacket was tied loosely around her waist, ready for later but unnecessary in the controlled temperature of the terminal. Her sneakers were well worn but clean, the kind built for standing and walking without discomfort. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, though a few strands had escaped and framed her face. The overhead lights caught in the lighter pieces of her hair, giving them a faint glow.
Next to her, Kurt Logan stood with far less ease. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his stance never quite settling into stillness. His arms crossed briefly over his chest before dropping again to his sides, then one hand moved to the back of his neck in a small, absent gesture. The movement repeated itself in different forms, subtle but constant, as though his body refused to fully relax. He wore dark jeans and a black T shirt; a light jacket hung open over the shirt, unzipped and shifting slightly each time he moved. His boots were planted firmly on the polished floor, though even they could not quite ground the nervous energy he carried. His hair looked as though he had run his hands through it more than once, leaving it slightly uneven. His jaw was set, though not in anger. It was the kind of tension that came from anticipation, from not quite knowing what to expect. His eyes flicked toward the arrivals doors, then away, then back again, never lingering too long in one place.
Around them, people gathered in small clusters, some holding signs, others standing on their toes to catch a first glimpse of someone emerging from behind the frosted glass doors. A child darted past, weaving between legs before being called back by a parent. A couple embraced tightly near the edge of the waiting area, their reunion drawing brief glances from those nearby before the moment passed.
Glory remained steady amid it all. She noticed Kurt’s movement without turning her head fully, her gaze still directed toward the doors. There was a quiet awareness in the way she stood, the same grounded presence she carried in every setting. She shifted her weight slightly, adjusting her stance, her shoulder brushing lightly against his arm in a small, almost absent contact.
“You seem nervous.” Glory states.
“I am.” He nods his head admittedly. “Honestly, you should be too.”
“Why should I be nervous?” Glory asks. “She’s my friend.
“Friend or not she sounds like nothing but trouble.”
“You didn’t have such concerns about my other friends; Frances and Melody. Remember them? We were a terror when we were younger.”
“That’s different and you know it.” Kurt says bluntly. “Melody and Frances were bullies. They were simply a bad influence and nothing more. But this friend seems downright criminal.”
“She’s not a criminal.” Glory shakes her head.
“Her family certainly is; according to you.”
“You’re right.” Glory nods her head. “Her family was involved in some criminal activities. Catalina De Luca…her friends call her Cat…”
“So I should call her Cat?”
“It would be nice.” Glory smirks. “But anyway, Cat is the daughter of a Sicilian mafia gangster. Cat and I first met on one my father’s wrestling tours in Italy.”
“Let me guess, her dad’s ‘family business’ had something to do with wrestling?”
“That’s how they made their money. They would influence booking, sponsorships, venue deals, gambling; just about everything in the European promotions, they were involved in it. Lots of shadowy business politics.”
“Let me ask you point blank, Gloria.” Kurt says. “Did her family fix any of your father’s matches? Did they help him in any way?”
“No, not like that.” Glory shakes her head. “They certainly wanted to but Glenn requested specifically that they keep out of his business and his matches. He did not want them helping him or hindering him in any way. Dad wanted to win or lose on his own merit.”
“How much did it cost him to convince the Sicilian mafia to keep out of his business?” Kurt asks, smirking. Glory shakes her head.
“Not a thing.”
“Seriously?” Kurt seems stunned. Glory just nods her head in affirmation. That’s surprising. I didn’t think the Braddock name carried such weight and respect that even the mafia obeyed Glenn Braddock.”
“It’s not quite like that.” Glory begins. “They did ask that, if the Braddock family could do them a favor in return one day, they would greatly appreciate.”
“Sounds like The Godfather.” Kurt chuckles. “One day I might call upon you to do a favor.”
“It was more of a request than a demand.” Glory states. “And this is my way of paying off that debt. Catalina wants to get as far away from the family business as possible. She doesn’t want to follow in her father’s criminal footsteps. She wants to make an honest living and so I am giving her that opportunity and, in return, this is me paying off my father’s debt.”
The arrivals doors slid open again with a soft mechanical sound, and another wave of passengers began to step through. Suitcases rolled behind them, conversations picked up mid sentence, and the steady flow continued. Kurt exhaled slowly, though the tension in his shoulders did not entirely fade. His hand returned briefly to the back of his neck before dropping again. His eyes fixed on the doorway now, more focused than before. Glory leaned forward just slightly, her attention narrowing, her posture tightening in a way that suggested the moment they had been waiting for was drawing closer. The terminal carried on around them, loud and busy and indifferent, while the space between the two of them held something quieter. Expectation. Memory. The weight of an old connection about to step through those doors and into the present.
Then Glory saw her.
Catalina De Luca stepped through the doorway with a presence that immediately separated her from the crowd around her. She moved with an effortless grace, each step measured without appearing deliberate, as though she had always carried herself that way without needing to think about it. Her dark hair fell in soft, glossy waves over her shoulders, rich and deep in color, catching the overhead light with a subtle sheen. It framed her face in a way that softened her features while still drawing attention to them. She wore a fitted dress in a warm ivory tone that contrasted beautifully against her complexion. The fabric was smooth and elegant, tailored closely at the waist before falling cleanly along her legs. The sleeves were light and refined, ending just above her elbows, and the neckline was simple but flattering, revealing just enough without feeling excessive. A slim belt accentuated her figure, its detail understated but intentional. Her shoes were heeled, not overly high but enough to give her posture a natural lift. The sound of them against the polished airport floor was soft but distinct as she walked. A structured handbag rested neatly in the crook of her arm, its leather immaculate, complementing the rest of her outfit without competing with it. There was something unmistakably feminine about her, not only in the way she dressed but in the way she moved, the way her hands adjusted a strand of hair behind her ear, the way her posture remained poised even as she scanned the crowd. She carried herself with quiet confidence, a kind of elegance that felt natural rather than performed.
Her eyes moved across the waiting area, searching. And then they found Glory. For a brief moment, everything else seemed to fall away. The noise of the terminal softened, the constant motion around them fading into the background as recognition settled between them. Catalina’s expression shifted instantly, her face brightening with warmth that felt genuine and unguarded. Glory straightened from her relaxed stance, the subtle tension in her posture giving way to something more immediate. She stepped forward without hesitation, closing the distance between them. Catalina did the same. They met just beyond the flow of arriving passengers, and the greeting came naturally, without awkwardness or pause. Catalina reached for Glory first, her arms wrapping around her with an ease that spoke of familiarity and history. Glory returned the embrace just as firmly, one hand resting against Catalina’s back, the other steady at her shoulder. The contrast between them was striking even in that moment. Catalina’s refined elegance against Glory’s grounded simplicity. Soft fabric against worn denim. Polished grace against quiet strength. Yet neither seemed out of place beside the other.
“Cat!” Glory exclaims. “God I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Glory!”
They held the embrace for a moment longer than what would have been expected between acquaintances. This was not a casual reunion. There was weight behind it, something carried from years before that had not faded with distance or time. When they pulled apart, Catalina’s hands lingered briefly on Glory’s arms, as if confirming that she was really there. Her smile remained, warm and genuine, her eyes studying Glory with a quiet intensity.
“How long has it been?” Catalina asks. “Sixteen years?”
“Has to have been longer.” Glory states. “Dad had his career ending injury when I was sixteen and that meant no more traveling, no more wrestling, no more shows.”
“Right.” Catalina nods her head. “How is your father these days?”
“He, uh…he passed away, Cat.”
“Oh I’m so sorry.” Catalina says quietly. “I had no idea.”
“It’s ok.” Glory nods her head. “Dad is with me in spirit.”
“And I just know he’s so proud of you.” Catalina says, beaming from ear to ear. “Me and the family have impressed with what you have accomplished. Seventeen world championships, eclipsing anything your dad accomplished. And we heard you run your own company now. Is that right?”
“That’s right.” Glory nods her head. “And that’s partly why I need your help and why I have flown you here to Miami. I need your help, Cat. It will be a tough job, but…”
“Anything at all.” Catalina shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, I will do anything to get away from the ‘family business’ so to speak.”
A few steps away, Kurt watched the exchange. He remained where he was, his posture still carrying that underlying tension, though now it had sharpened into something more focused. His gaze moved between the two women, taking in Catalina’s presence, her composure, the ease with which she had stepped into Glory’s space. His hands settled at his sides, still for the moment, but his shoulders remained slightly tight. The terminal continued to move around them, unaware of the shift that had just taken place in that small pocket of space. Announcements carried on overhead. Travelers passed by without a second glance. But for Glory and Catalina, the reunion stood apart from all of it. Two lives reconnecting in the middle of a place built for constant arrivals and departures, the past stepping forward into the present with a familiarity that needed no explanation.
![[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 Underground 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 Underground 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)