Xander Valentine vs. Glory Braddock

[Kemal Yilmaz]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET WEDNESDAY, April 15, 2026

[Braddock]

1 of 2
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April 9th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The restaurant sat on a corner just far enough away from the busiest parts of Miami to avoid the constant rush of tourists, but close enough that the faint hum of the city never really disappeared. From the outside it looked unremarkable, a low building with wide windows and a simple sign that had probably been replaced more than once over the years. The paint along the trim had faded slightly under the Florida sun, and the door creaked faintly when it opened, as though it had greeted thousands of customers without ever being replaced. Inside, the space felt warm and lived in. The floors were tiled in a pattern that had gone slightly uneven with age, and the tables were solid wood, their surfaces marked with the small scratches and dents that come from constant use rather than neglect. The chairs did not match perfectly, some a shade darker than others, but they were sturdy and comfortable. Ceiling fans turned slowly overhead, stirring the air just enough to keep the heat from settling. The lighting came from a mix of overhead fixtures and small lamps along the walls, casting a soft yellow glow that made the room feel inviting without trying too hard. The place smelled of grilled meat, citrus, and something faintly sweet that lingered in the background. Plates clinked in the kitchen, and the low murmur of conversation filled the room without ever becoming overwhelming. A television mounted in one corner played quietly with subtitles on, ignored by most of the people seated beneath it.

Glory Braddock sat at a table near the back of the restaurant, away from the windows and the busiest foot traffic. She had chosen the spot without making a show of it, instinctively picking a place where she could see most of the room without being directly in the center of it. Her posture was relaxed, one arm resting on the table while the other draped casually over the back of her chair. She wore dark jeans that fit comfortably, a shirt that was a simple short sleeved top in a muted gray, it sat easily across her shoulders, outlining her frame without drawing attention to it. The sleeves ended just above her arms, revealing the quiet strength there without making it the focus. On her feet were worn sneakers, clean but clearly used, the kind that suggested she valued comfort and practicality over appearance. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, loose enough that a few strands had escaped and brushed against her neck.

Across from her sat Kurt Logan. He leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand resting near his glass while the other drummed lightly against the edge of the table in an absent rhythm. He wore dark jeans similar to Glory’s, paired with a plain black T shirt that fit comfortably across his chest and shoulders. The fabric was slightly worn at the collar, suggesting it had been a favorite for some time. His boots were sturdy and practical, scuffed at the edges but well cared for. His hair was short and slightly tousled, as though he had run a hand through it more than once since they arrived. There was a relaxed confidence in the way he sat, his posture easy but not careless. He looked at home in the setting, as if this kind of place suited him far better than anything more polished ever could. Between them sat a pair of plates that had clearly already been worked on, portions eaten, utensils resting where they had been set down mid conversation. A basket lined with paper held the last pieces of bread, one corner torn away. Condiment bottles stood nearby, slightly sticky from repeated use, their labels worn but still readable. The sounds of the restaurant carried on around them. A group at a nearby table laughed loudly at something that had just been said. A server moved past with a tray balanced carefully in one hand. The kitchen door swung open and closed, letting out brief bursts of heat and noise before settling again.

“I just don’t know what has gotten into her…” Glory says, her voice trailing off. The ‘her’ in question is Amelia Nevado, who seems to have cast her lot with CEO Frank. It was his influence that got her added to the number one contender’s match, the match Amelia won to earn a shot at the SCW World Championship now held by Gavin Taylor.

“She’s frustrated.” Kurt answers.

“But to align herself with that guy? With the CEO?”

“I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate here…”

“Yet somehow I get the feeling that you are about to.”

“You know me too well.” Kurt says with a smirk on his face. “But face it, not a lot has gone her way lately. And when it comes to you in particular, you have always had her number in one on one matches. You earned your Supreme Championship at her expense.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see how frustration can lead one to making some questionable judgment calls.” Braddock answers with a sigh. “I guess I can’t judge her. God knows there was a time I would have done the same thing in her position.”

“Honestly, babe? I wouldn’t worry too much about Amelia.” Kurt shakes his head. “You already have enough on your plate as it is.”

“Don’t I know it.” The British Bombshell nods her head. “Kemal Yilmaz still wants his bloody submissions match.”

“I wasn’t even referring to him.” Kurt answers. “I was referencing a more pressing problem for you. Someone who has had YOUR number in the past.”

“Oh yeah,” Glory snickers “Xander…”

The British Bombshell is set to take on The Executioner on Breakdown. She is not unfamiliar with Xander Valentine. They went one on one shortly after Rise To Greatness in 2021. The British Bombshell does not like to think back to that moment, for she passed out in his Fade To Black submission. No, she didn’t tap out, but still, it was a humbling experience, one that she is looking forward to erasing with this opportunity on Breakdown. She has a chance to make it all right by defeating Xander Valentine one on one and, perhaps, even get one over on him with her Shekhinah Glory submission.

Glory glanced briefly toward the front of the restaurant, her eyes moving across the room before returning to the table. The habit was subtle, almost unconscious, but consistent. She took a sip from her glass, then set it down with a soft tap against the wood. Kurt shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward just enough to rest his forearms on the table. The overhead fan cast a slow moving shadow across his shoulders as it turned. The light caught the edge of Glory’s hair as she tilted her head slightly, listening to the rhythm of the room around them as much as anything else.

“Perhaps you should take some of your own advice.” Kurt states “Don’t get frustrated. Don’t lose sight of the real prize.”

“I know.” Braddock nods her head. “That last match Xander and I had, it still stings, and I admit that beating him by submission would be bloody brilliant, but at the same time I recognize that winning is what is more important here. Even if it means settling for a pinfall victory as opposed to a submission. If I can beat Xander, that will be a huge feather in my cap and will help make the case for me to get another title match.”

“You still chasing the SCW World Championship?”

“Honestly? I just want to compete against the best.” Glory states. “Xander is among the best there is to do it in SCW so I am happy to be facing him and it gives me the chance to right that wrong.”

“You dodged my question.” Kurt winks.

“Fine.” Glory nods her head. “Of course, who wouldn’t want to be SCW World Champion? And honestly, looking at the current field, the SCW Title picture needs help; Gavin Taylor of all people is the champion but look at the alternatives…ANYONE is better than Syren. Ordinarily I would think Amelia Nevado would make a great champion but after throwing her lot in with the CEO I’m beginning to doubt her. That leaves Selena Frost, of all people, as the only credible and worthy competitor among the group, and that’s saying something considering what she did with Deanna’s title shot.”

“So the SCW World Title needs Glory Braddock?” Kurt asks. Braddock snickers.

“The old me might have said that but I’m not that kind of narcissist anymore.” She shakes her head. “I will earn my way to a title shot and beating Xander Valentine will be a great step closer towards that goal.”

“You sound confident.”

“I’m confident because finally, after so long, I am back to being who and what I need to be.” Glory grins confidently. “I just need to maintain it.”

Glory takes another sip of her drink. Kurt studies her closely, trying to get a read on his wife. Finally he speaks up.

“So, does that mean you’re still going to hire a Chief of Staff to help you run your…well…run your life?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

“That’s essentially the job description.” Kurt remarks.

“There are certain aspects of my life that tend to corrupt me, that have a negative effect upon my personality. The company, the fame, all of it, it can be poisonous. It can make me into someone I hate, someone I don’t recognize. I need to insulate myself, I need someone to keep it all away from me.”

“You’re just running from the problem.”

“Now you sound like Sophie.” Glory answers flatly.

“She’s right.” Kurt states. “You should tackle these problems yourself instead of hiring someone to keep you protected from them.”

“It sounds so easy but it is much more difficult in practice.” Glory states. “I tried to be that good person, that benevolent person I want to be and run the company, and handle the fame and fortune that comes with it, but I couldn’t manage it.”

“So you’re tapping out?” Kurt smirks knowingly. Glory frowns, looking clearly annoyed at the wrestling analogy he just used.

“Shut up.”

“Fine.” Kurt nods his head. “But the next question is, have you even come close to finding a good hire for this…Chief of Staff position?”

“That’s the problem…” Glory sighs and shakes her head “...I have read their resumes, each and every one of them, and all of them flawed.”

“No one is perfect, babe.” Kurt answers. “The idea of making any hire is choosing the BEST FIT for the job, not the perfect fit because the perfect fit doesn’t exist.”

“I understand that, Kurt, but these candidates are just…they’re…”

“They’re what?”

“Well there’s this one young woman named Jennie. She has ZERO corporate experience.”

“Ok, definitely not a good choice.”

“Oh and Greg…he has great experience except he is a convicted felon, white collar crimes, even.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Gloria.”

“He got out of prison once before, was given a job at a business, and then got thrown back into prison for committing the exact same crime.”

“Oh…” Kurt chuckles “...yeah, might not want to take a chance on him.”

“It gets better.” Glory says. “Corey.”

“Who is Corey and what’s his problem?”

“Eighteen year old, high school drop out, thinks that I am a goddess.”

“Obsessed fan.” Kurt flinches. “Yikes.”

“No, not just an obsessed fan.” Glory shakes her head. “This weirdo thinks I am a literal goddess.”

“Oooookaaaaay…” Kurt’s voice trails off “...he’s definitely a few beers shy of a six pack.”

“See what I mean?” Glory asks.

“I get it. A lot of these people are…flawed…” he sighs “...but not everyone can be that bad. Like I said, not everyone is perfect and you cannot expect perfection. Surely there is someone in the list who you can work with. You don’t necessarily need perfection.”

“Oh but I do need perfection, love.” Glory nods her head. “I need it in order to keep the corporate life, as well as any other distractions, as far away from me as possible so that I can focus on my true passion…professional wrestling.”

“Then you won’t be able to hire anyone.” Kurt points out. “No one can meet your lofty standards because you only just met them. The trust isn’t there yet. Don’t you see what I mean?”

The British Bombshell starts to talk but then stops. She furrows her brow, as if thinking about something. Kurt can tell that she just had an idea and he is afraid to ask what it is.

“You know something? Thank you, Kurt.”

“Uh…you’re welcome?”

“Thank you.” Glory grins from ear to ear. “Because you just gave me a bloody brilliant idea, a great solution to my problem.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“My father owed someone a favor.” Glory states. “It is time that I pay back my father’s debt.”

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April 11th, 2026
Nashville, TN
On Camera
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I have made no secret that I consider myself to be one of the very best professional wrestlers in the world today. I also make no secret that I do this job not for the fame or for the money. I am a professional wrestler because I am passionate about this industry and, most importantly, I am passionate about competition.

What do I see right now when I look at the SCW World Championship picture? I see Syren who, despite her claims otherwise, we all know will stoop to any lows to become SCW World Champion. We have Selena Frost, who has likely conned her way into another championship match. We have Amelia Nevado…

..yeah, Amelia. I’m not sure what to say about you, to be perfectly honest. Despite what you may think, I do respect you. I would very much be happy for you if you were to become World Champion. But I’m not sure what to think about you right now considering what you may or may not have done, and what you might do in the future, just to get over that hump and become champion.

Lastly we have Gavin Taylor. The reigning champion. Congratulations, it took you an army to get the job done but damn it if you finally won the big one. And no matter how many delusional fantasies your “people” tell you, you have to know deep down inside that your days as champion are numbered. Because if Syren, Amelia, or Selena doesn’t get the job done, I damn sure will be coming for you next, because what I see right now in the SCW Title picture isn’t competition, it’s a game of one-upsmanship, a game of who can pull the most strings and play politics the best to get an unfair advantage.

But that’s not who I am and that’s not what I am about. I won’t pretend that I have always been a saint because then I would be lying and I am no liar. I have done things that I am not very proud of; but one thing that I have consistently represented in my entire career as a professional wrestler is the principle of competition. This business is built upon competition. Everything about this business should be simple and pure competition. You put two wrestlers in the ring and see who is the best.

And the VERY best should be the SCW World Champion. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that is the case right now.

I would say “no offense” but I definitely mean great offense to you, Gavin.

While the world title scene explodes into anarchy and politics, I will do what I have always done; work my way up, earn a title shot the hard way, the old fashioned way, by beating anyone and everyone this company decides to set in my way. Anyone who is put in my path is an obstacle that I need to overcome in order to earn another opportunity at the title. And that brings me to none other than Xander Valentine.

I have to admit that I am definitely looking forward to this; I want to take on the best SCW has to offer and there isn’t anyone much better than you. Former World Champion. Taking Hold of the Flame winner. Right To Greatness Main Eventer. You already have enough of a record that warrants hall of fame consideration.

Now then, I’ve given you your flowers. It’s time to tell you what I intend to do on Breakdown in Los Angeles, California.

You are going to get beaten. You are an obstacle standing in my way that I have to overcome and I will overcome it, I will overcome you, and it doesn’t matter if it is by pin or submission. I am not going into this with tunnel vision. I am not going to be some one-dimensional submission only wrestler. I will use every single tool and resource that I have in my arsenal to bring you down.

I will do it because I have to. And those words mean much more to me than simply needing to climb up that ladder and earn another title shot. Because I remember all too well what happened the last time you and I went one on one. No doubt you remember too and will bring up and gloat, so allow me to save you the time.

You choked me out. No shame in losing to Fade To Black. At least there shouldn’t be. But to me? I am a warrior. More importantly, I am a competitor. I don’t let losses like that go so easily. You are one of the few mountains I have been thus far unable to climb here in SCW. It is one of the few regrets I have in my SCW career. And not to take anything away from your victory that night, but I did not go into that match with my whole heart. I did not go into that match with any will or determination.

I was simply going through the motions.

Things are different now. I am not the same person I was back then. I am better and I am more determined than I have ever been in my entire career. I have found that heart and that drive once more. Now I am ready to march into LA and right that wrong. I am ready to finally do what I should have done years ago…

I will fight with heart, fight with determination, and fight like who I know I am…one of the best wrestlers in the world today. Not many people get the chance to turn back the clock, to go back in time and right a wrong. But I do have that rare opportunity and you had better believe that I will not waste it, I will not squander this chance.

Defeating you means redemption.

Defeating you means me getting one step closer to another title shot.

This is what competition means to me. It is my passion. It is who I am.

Sic Semper Tyrannis.

[Braddock]

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.