Glory Braddock vs. Kemal Yilmaz

[Konrad Raab]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Limit Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET THURSDAY, May 8, 2025 (The show still takes place on May 8)

[Braddock]

1 of 2
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May 3rd, 2025
Birmingham, England
Off Camera
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Rebirth definitely did not turn out the way Glory Braddock had hoped. She was pinned by Selena Frost, which means Selena got the prestigious number forty spot while The British Bombshell will now have to go the distance, starting at the number one spot, if she hopes to win Taking Hold of the Flame and earn a World Championship Match. The only solace she can take away from this is the fact that at least Syren will not get that number forty spot. Still, that is a very small bit of comfort. As much as she despises Syren, Braddock ultimately wanted that win for herself. She knows that having that number forty spot is a huge advantage that she could have used. Now she must go the distance. She must go bell to bell at Taking Hold of the Flame and prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that she really is what she claims to be; The Best in the World. Still, Taking Hold of the Flame is in the future and The British Bombshell cannot afford to look past anything or anyone on her road to the flame, and that includes her opponent for the next Breakdown; Kemal Yilmaz. This isn’t the first time she heard from Kemal. She knows he has wanted a piece of The British Bombshell since his arrival in SCW. Now he gets his opportunity but, unfortunately for him, it will be on her home turf in her home of London, England. She will have the decided homefield advantage. Glory Braddock looks to get some momentum back in her corner with an impactful victory on Breakdown.

The fact that this Breakdown is in London makes this very convenient for Glory Braddock. She gets to return home and visit friends and family still living in England. It also gives her the perfect excuse to take care of some business that just isn’t personal, it has become professional as well. Braddock learned that her friend and president of her company, Frances Taylor, has decided to quit the company and, with financial support from a new boyfriend, is going to try and run Glory Braddock out of business. A corporate war against Frances Taylor isn’t what concerns Glory the most. She knows that Frances is far more experienced in the cutthroat corporate world than Glory Braddock is but, at the end of the day, her company isn’t the most important thing. Glory is far more concerned with her friendship with Frances Taylor. The last time she spoke to Frances, her old friend sounded bitter and angry. It seemed as if their friendship was at risk. Braddock is convinced that Frances’s new boyfriend, Dominic Sterling, is somehow responsible for corrupting her, for twisting her mind against her. She wants to talk to Frances, to try and convince her that she is in over her head, that this path she is taking is not right. But Frances will not listen, she won’t answer her phone. She has cut off Glory Braddock. Luckily for The British Bombshell, she has another friend, a mutual friend of herself and Frances, whom Glory knows she can trust; Frances’s sister-in-law, Melody Murphy.

The late afternoon light spilled through the tall windows of the Murphy estate, casting soft golden streaks across the polished oak floor. Outside, a soft drizzle kissed the well-manicured hedges and wrought-iron gates that marked the boundary of one of Birmingham’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Melody Murphy’s home stood like a modern-day fortress of elegance: restrained but regal. Inside, the warmth of the house softened the cool English air. The parlor was awash in muted earth tones, burnt umber, moss green, the deep grey of river stones. Everything in Melody’s home was designed to project effortless affluence: original art hung in quiet conversation on the walls, a baby grand piano rested in the corner like a sleeping animal, and not a speck of dust dared settle on the glass coffee table between the women. Glory Braddock sat in an ivory armchair with one leg tucked under the other, her posture relaxed but alert. She wore faded denim jeans, scuffed tan ankle boots, and a simple black cashmere sweater. Her blonde hair was pulled back loosely, strands falling forward to frame her lovely face. Melody, seated across from her on a velvet chaise, had taken a different approach to casual comfort. Her flowing burgundy blouse shimmered slightly under the lighting, paired with slim ivory trousers and bare feet tucked neatly beneath her. Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and a diamond tennis bracelet caught the light every time she lifted her teacup. She moved with the graceful ease of someone who had been born to luxury.

“I am so happy and surprised to see you stop by.” Melody says cheerfully.

“Well Breakdown is in London next week.” Glory says. “Makes it convenient to stop by for an unexpected visit, you know?”

“Ah, well that explains how I missed it.” She chuckles. “I’m not exactly a big wrestling person.”

“You say that despite marrying a wrestler.”

“A semi-retired wrestler.” Melody points out regarding her husband, Matthew Taylor. Yes, Matthew is Frances’s younger brother. Glory Braddock and Matthew were far closer friends than Glory and Frances were. Glory and Matthew were almost like siblings.

“Active, semi-retired, retired, does any of it really matter?” Braddock asks with a wry grin. “Fact is wrestling is in his blood. Besides, it isn’t just him. There’s your good friend who happens to be competing on Breakdown next week.”

“What good friend?” Melody asks playfully. Glory chuckles.

“Me, you dolt.”

“I know.” She smirks. “I’m just messing with you. But, uh, do I have to pay for my own tickets to go see you wrestle or will you gift me with some tickets?”

“Don’t worry, mate, I got both you and Matty covered.”

“Good to hear.” Melody nods her head. “I am fairly certain this will be the first time I’ve ever actually watched you in a professional wrestling match. I look forward to it.”

“I’m fairly certain it is NOT the first time you have watched me compete,” Glory winks “but that’s not important. What’s important is that I get to be right here in my home, England,, with all of my family, all of my longtime friends and supporters.” Glory sighs. “It is really good to see you, Melody. I mean that.”

“You’re being sentimental.” Melody arches a brow out of curiosity.

“So?”

“You’re never sentimental, especially when you talk about your…work.” Melody frowns. “Is something wrong? Has work been treating you bad?”

“If you mean SCW, yes.” Glory shrugs her shoulders. “The guy in charge…goes by CHBK…is being a real prick in terms of his booking. He put me in a decided disadvantage when challenging for the Adrenaline Title. Then he overlooked me and ignored me, refusing to book me. I had to call my own shot to even get on the most recent Rebirth card and even then he had to add a twist to the match that screwed me over in the end.” Braddock shakes her head. “But I can handle all of that. That’s not my real problem.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Frances.”

“Huh?” Melody is taken aback at the mention of Frances Taylor. Frances is Melody’s sister-in-law by marriage but growing up, she and Frances and Glory were close friends. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I think the biggest problem with her is her new boyfriend. Have you heard about him?”

“Yes, she mentioned him to me once or twice.” Melody nods her head. “Dominic, I think.”

“Dominic Sterling.” Braddock says, nodding her head. “He’s wealthy too but his wealth comes from inheritance. He never actually earned a dime. But the real issue is what he’s been whispering into Frances’s ear.”

“What do you mean?” Melody asks curiously.

“She quit.” Glory states plainly. “She quit Glorious Golden Enterprise.”

“What?!” Melody instantly places her teacup down and stares in shock upon hearing this news. This isn’t just a matter of personal friendship now. Melody has invested a great deal of money in Glory’s company. The fact that Frances quit has certainly raised some red flags. “Why?!”

“Because I won’t let her have unchecked power to run the company as she sees fit.” Braddock rolls her eyes. “Apparently Dominic has her convinced that she can do far better than what I give her credit for, he has convinced her that if I won’t give her the unchecked power to run the company, that she should rebuild and restructure Taylor Enterprise and try and put ME out of business.”

“I hate to say this, Glory,” Melody says slowly, cautiously “but she has a point.”

“Are you kidding?!” The British Bombshell is surprised to hear this from Melody.

“Calm down, just hear me out. Frances is far more experienced in the corporate world than you. It’s what she was born to do. Compare it to yourself; you are one of the best wrestlers in the world because you were born into that life and raised to be a great wrestler. Frances was born into the corporate world and was expected to be a great businesswoman. She has all the knowledge and skill necessary to make Taylor Enterprise succeed. Had it not been for some bad luck and some economic downturn, she might have succeeded and not NEEDED to take on the role of president of YOUR company, working for YOU.”

“That’s a fair point. I had to learn about the corporate world in a trial by fire.” Braddock points out. “But still you do understand why I cannot trust her with unchecked power, right? She’s a friend but…” her voice trails off. Melody nods her head.

“I get it. You were betrayed multiple times by so many people since you started this company. It got to a point where you cannot trust anyone with that much power, even your friends. So yes, I understand.”

“Thank you.” Glory sighs. She looks away from Melody for a moment. This next question is going to be painful but it must be asked. “Melody, I hate to ask this, but if Frances does follow through on her threat to try and run me out of business…I mean, you are a friend to both of us. So whose side are you going to be on if this war does come to pass?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, but…”

“No need to apologize.” Melody smirks. “It isn’t like I have always been the symbol of moral purity. It is fair…and smart…for you to be skeptical. But I can assure you, Glory, that Frances never told me about any of this or any of her plans. This is the first time I have ever heard about it.”

“Fair.” Glory sighs with a hint of relief. “But are you going to remain committed to me, or…”

“Don’t worry. I made a financial commitment to your company, a company I believe in. I plan to keep that commitment and keep my word. Besides,” Melody smiles warmly “you are my friend and I swear to you that I will not betray you.”

“Thank you, mate.” Glory Braddock breathes a sigh of relief. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Don’t mention it. And hey, just because she’s mad at you for whatever reason doesn’t mean that she is mad at me. I will try and reach out to her and see what she will tell me. Maybe I can talk her down from whatever cliff she’s on.” Melody holds up one finger. “But I do have ONE question about that Dominic guy.”

“Shoot.” Glory says. “Though I don’t know how much I can tell you.”

“It’s just that…Taylor Enterprises is really in the dumps, last I heard. And according to you, this Dominic guy is wealthy. Is Frances REALLY being funded by him? If so, how is he getting all of that money if it’s just from his inheritance? Does he have a company of his own or something?”

“According to Frances…” Glory shakes her head “...no, just his inheritance.”

“That makes no sense.” Melody furrows her brow. “I’ll look into it, see what I can find out. This Dominic guy sounds like bad news.”

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May 5th, 2025
London, England
Off Camera
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The sun had barely begun to rise over the rooftops of London, England, casting a faint pink blush across the horizon as fog clung low to the streets like a reluctant memory. Glory Braddock pulled into the gravel lot beside the Braddock Wrestling School, the tires of her charcoal-gray car crunching softly beneath her. She cut the engine and sat still for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the building that had shaped so much of her past. Glory stepped out of the car, drawing her denim jacket tighter against the early chill. Her blonde hair was pulled into a practical ponytail, strands catching the golden light just beginning to filter through the fog. She wore plain black leggings, trainers, and a dark grey zip-up hoodie. She pulled out a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. The heavy steel protested with a groan as she pushed it open. Inside, the scent of old sweat, canvas, and liniment hit her like a memory too familiar to ignore. The fluorescent lights flickered to life above her, buzzing softly, illuminating the wide training space. There were two full-size wrestling rings set on opposite sides of the floor, their ropes slightly frayed and padding creased from years of punishment. Weight benches lined the far wall, flanked by squat racks and racks of free weights. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the padded floor, eyes drifting upward to the rafters where the ceiling. She moved toward the office in the back, its frosted-glass door cracked open and faint light spilling from inside. It was then that she heard movement from the ring nearest the office. Glory turned and smiled. Mark O’Brian stood barefoot inside the ring, hoodie tied around his waist, black tank top clinging to a lean, muscular frame honed by decades of brutal matches and even rougher training routines. His long black hair was tied back into a messy tail, damp with sweat from his morning warm-up. He looked like a man born in the wrong century; eyes dark and defiant, built like a gladiator.

“You’re here early.” Mark remarks pointedly with a gravelly voice. “You’re just like your old man, ya know?”

“Thanks for that compliment.” Glory says beaming. “Dad always taught me to be the first one in the gym and the last to leave.”

“And that’s why you became the best.” Mark points out. “But come on, do ya really need this kind of extra training to beat some temperamental bitch named Kermit The Frog?”

“That’s Kemal Yilmaz.” Glory says, correcting him. “And dad also taught me to never take any match or any opponent for granted. So yes, I want to get in as much training and prep time as I can, especially for this match against Kemal. In case you haven’t noticed, luck has not exactly been on my side lately. I am fighting in my home, Mark, and the pressure is on to pick up a much needed win.”

“Ok, ya make a good point.” Mark says, nodding his head. He watches Glory as she slowly approaches the ring and then steps up onto the apron and then steps through the ropes and into the ring. Braddock instantly walks over and embraces him in a tight hug.

“God I’ve missed you, Mark!”

“Back at ya, Glory.” He says smiling. “And whatever ya did for my sister, for Sophie, thanks. Whatever it was that ya did, it helped. She’s been in much better spirits.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Glory considered telling him everything she now knows about Sophie but she opted not to. Yes, she learned a big secret about Sophie, that Sophie and Glory are half-sister with the same father, which also means Sophie and Mark are only half-siblings with the same mother. But Glory is fairly confident Sophie has yet to tell Mark this. Glory will keep her sister’s secret for now, at least until Sophie is ready to tell. Besides, Glory is here for a different purpose. She wants to work with Mark, get some sparring in before her match on Breakdown against Kemal.

“Now before ya kick me, punch me, or collar and elbow tie up me, or whatever the heck ya wanna do,” Mark begins “there is something else I wanna talk to ya about.”

“Oh?” Glory arches her brow out of curiosity.

“It’s some bad news about the school. Several students have dropped out.”

“So?” Glory shrugs her shoulders. “Stuff like that happens; we have our busy times and our slow times. It’s likely a phase.”

“No, this is different.” Mark shakes his head. “Cause see, I got this source…a student who really trusts me…now when these students were dropping out, like you I wasn’t bothered at first, but this student of mine recently came to me and told me that most of those leaving are all leaving for the same reason.”

“Why?”

“Someone is promising them a quicker and easier path into the wrestling business.” Mark states. “Quick, easy, less work, more money. The only one who have stuck it out and are sticking with us are those who actually respect the business and respect your old man’s name.”

“Damn!” Glory exclaims. “It’s Frances.”

“Frances?!” Mark asks curiously. “Frances Taylor? Your snobby pal? What does she have to do with this? Why would she sabotage us? She WORKS for you.”

“She DID work for me.” Glory says. “She recently quit and promised to run me out of business.”

“Bloody hell!” Mark exclaims. “How the hell can she do that when her own company is on the rocks?!”

“Let’s just say she has a new and very wealthy donor.” Glory rolls her eyes. “But this tracks, she promised to bring this company down and this wrestling school is under my corporate umbrella. So of course she would try and sabotage, she would target it. She is likely going to target anything and everything my company is involved with.”

“Sounds like you have a bigger problem on your hand than just a match on Breakdown you need to win.” Mark states.

“Fighting for my professional life both inside and outside the ring.” Braddock sighs and shakes her head.

“Well one thing at a time.” Mark places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll survive this, ya always do. And I’ll still work with ya this morning, I will prepare you to break this Kermit…”

“Kemal.”

“Whatever.” Mark rolls his eyes. “I’ll get ya ready to rip his damn head off. But afterwards, maybe YOU should start taking the initiative and take the fight to Frances.”

“That’s the problem, Mark. She’s my friend.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to fight her.”

“But she IS fighting you.” He points out. “You are going to have to defend yourself at some point.”

[Braddock]

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May 7th, 2025
London, England
On Camera
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The camera begins to roll and we open on a chilly morning in London, England. The streets of London stretched out in a mosaic of old-world charm and modern bustle, a city in perpetual conversation with itself. Cobblestones peeked through patches of worn asphalt in certain pockets, especially near the older boroughs where history clung to the architecture like ivy. The sidewalks, uneven in places, bore the scuff marks of countless commuters, tourists, and residents alike. Along the edges, cast-iron lampposts stood sentinel, their dark green paint chipped in places, revealing the iron beneath, an aged elegance that blended seamlessly with the soft, amber glow of their lanterns, still flickering against the lingering morning haze. Narrow alleys snaked off the main roads. Some were lined with independent bookshops and tucked-away cafés, their awnings faded by years of rain and sun, their windows steamed from the warmth inside. Others led to hidden courtyards or opened into unexpected pockets of greenery; urban gardens with wrought iron gates and benches dusted with early dew. Double-decker buses rumbled by with their distinct crimson flare, brakes sighing as they paused to swallow up clusters of passengers wrapped in coats and scarves. Cyclists zipped between cars, weaving through the dense traffic with the reflexes of seasoned navigators, their neon vests flashing like flags against the slate-grey backdrop of the city. Storefronts offered a parade of life. Overhead, the sky was a soft, uncertain gray, not yet rain, but not promising sun either; a typical London indecision.

Just then we see Glory Braddock moving into the scene from the right. Her golden blonde hair, left to hang straight and cascading past the shoulders, caught the pale sunlight in strands of soft gold, glinting with each step. She was dressed simply, but deliberately: a dusky rose knit sweater that hugged her figure with effortless charm, paired with high-waisted jeans that flattered without trying too hard. A cropped beige trench coat trailed open behind her, brushing the tops of her boots with each stride, and a delicate silver pendant bounced gently at her collarbone, catching the occasional gleam from a passing car’s headlights. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the passing faces and familiar storefronts with a detached sort of fondness. She’d lived here long enough to recognize the layers of the city; the historical ghosts in the brickwork, the subtle shifts in neighborhoods where tradition clashed with gentrification, and the unspoken stories in every passerby’s glance. A bus rumbled by, drowning the chirp of a distant bird, and the scent of fresh bread drifted out from a nearby bakery, warm and nostalgic. Glory’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile, a flicker of sentiment breaking through the cool composure that usually framed her features.

“Lately it seems as if the entire world is conspiring against The British Bombshell. Well, maybe ‘the entire world’ is a bit of an exaggeration, but at least Supreme Championship Wrestling. CHBK let Dexter Grant get away all sorts of crime in order to rob me time and time again of MY Adrenaline Championship. Then he ignored me, would not book me for weeks on end in favor of giving opportunities to that undeserving cancer of SCW Syren. I had to call my own shot to even get on the Rebirth card and when I did, CHBK once again showed favoritism towards Syren and bias against me, granting Syren an opportunity she did not deserve. Now, as a result of his impractical, insane booking practices, my back is against the wall in Taking Hold of the Flame. I had planned on entering the Flame in an attempt to earn my way to Rise To Greatness, to earn my way to a World Title Match. But now thanks to CHBK, in order to earn my way I will have to win the Flame by starting from the number one position. Those are seemingly impossible odds but I am The British Bombshell, I am The Best in the World, and I have beaten the odds on so many occasions in my career. Could I start from number one and win it all? Damn right I can.” Braddock shrugs her shoulders. “Then again, why should I give CHBK the pleasure of watching his little plans come together? Why should I allow anyone to dictate my fate?” The British Bombshell shakes her head.

“Unlike my daughter’s boyfriend, I do NOT believe that fate controls my life. I hold a semblance of control over my own destiny. I do not have to accept being the number one entrant in Taking Hold of the Flame, because I do not HAVE to enter Taking Hold of the Flame. I still have some power, some control, and some choice in my career. Rise to Greatness season is coming up. There won’t be many world title opportunities left until then and Taking Hold of the Flame will determine the final world title contender of the season. I know the importance of the Flame and of course I would love nothing more than to go bell to bell, win the whole damn thing, and make CHBK eat crow. But I can also afford to wait. I have a lot of years left in my career and I can afford to be patient and wait until the situation favors me, benefits me, or at the very least I am on an even playing field. Right now is definitely not an even playing field. So do I play CHBK’s game or do I play the long game and wait? Do I try and run the gauntlet or do I pull out of the Flame?” She smirks knowingly. “That is MY decision. I have at least that much power and I will wield it to the max. I will let you know when I am damn good and ready to let you know and you can’t do anything about it, CHBK.”

The British Bombshell takes in a deep breath of the English air and then lets it out. A warm, pleasant smile forms across her face as the intensity on her face dissipates ever so slightly; not by much, but enough to be noticeable. She focuses back on the camera and smirks.

“It is a very big decision to make and that is one reason why I am so glad to be back here in my home of London, England. When I am at a crossroads in my life, when I am in trouble and need help, when I have big personal or professional decisions to make, life or career altering decisions, I return home. It is right here in London where my father, Glenn Braddock, worked with me and trained with me from my early teenage years to follow in his footsteps. Right here in London and all over Great Britain, my father wrestled and became popular as Britain’s Best but he didn’t just keep his presence centered to just the United Kingdom alone. Glenn Braddock wrestled all over Europe. He made the Braddock name famous in France, Germany, Poland and so many other countries here all over Europe. Wrestling was his passion and he kept wrestling until he literally could not wrestle anymore. He wrestled until a back injury forced him into retirement and yet, even that injury would not keep him from his passion. He trained the next generation of wrestlers to carry on his legacy and mantle.” She pats herself on the chest.

“Yes, that’s me, I am his legacy. I carry on his mantle. I also inherited his passion for professional wrestling, which is why I get absolutely disgusted when I see people like Syren and CHBK and others trying to ruin this great sport with their filth. Letting idiots like Dexter Grant act like a deranged fool and make his own matches is not what this sport is about. Letting Syren have anything she wants just because she’s Syren is not what this sport is about. CHBK showing favoritism and bias is not what this sport is about. This sport is about two competitors, two WRESTLERS, stepping into the squared circle and fighting to see who is the best. I apologize if I sound salty, but I cannot stay quiet and just be a good little trooper all the while the sport my father loved is being made a mockery of.” She shakes her head.

“I will not remain quiet. This sport is about seeing who is the best and on any given day, on an even playing field, I can beat anyone on this planet. I am not demanding title shots, I am not demanding special treatment. I just want a fair opportunity. I also want the opportunity to showcase what I can do. I want the opportunity to compete in the squared circle, something that, lately in SCW, CHBK has been reluctant to give me…air time to compete in the ring. The last several matches I have had, I had to practically demand. I had to call him out. Except for this next Breakdown from my home of London, England.” She chuckles. “But let’s face it, he HAD to book me. This is London, I am The British Bombshell, and leaving me off the card would be insanity. Apologies if that sounds a tad arrogant, but it is also fact. The Braddock name is well known and well respected here. It is revered and respected all over Europe.” She points a finger at the camera.

“Which brings me to Kemal Yilmaz. You have your little foreign fraternity group running around making very little noise in SCW, following Konrad Raab around like lost little puppies. It’s the blind leading the blind. Since you are a part of this little fraternity, maybe you should ask Raab for some pointers on how to fight me? If he’s honest with you then he’ll tell you that you have no chance. He’ll tell you of the many times I already beat him in the center of the ring, and he is supposed to be your leader. So what could I possibly do to his followers? Add to the fact that I have the home field advantage. People all over Europe respect the Braddock name but in London? In London the Braddock name is revered. You will be fighting me and the thousands upon thousands of fans gathered in the 02 Arena backing me up, cheering me on, urging me to choke you out.” Braddock nods her head.

“Yes, I WILL choke you out…unless you tap out first, that’s the ONLY decision I am going to let you have. I will lock the Shekhinah Glory in tight and you will either tap out and give up or you will be choked out. EIther way is fine by me.” The British Bombshell chuckles. “It’s funny, you would think that we would get along, Kemal. We actually have quite a lot in common. We are both mat technicians. We are both Europeans. Although the way you and your boy band carry yourselves, how high and mighty you act about your European nationalism, I have to wonder what’s wrong with me? Am I not European enough for you? I was born here, raised here, got married here…BOTH TIMES…started my career here…all of my children were born here…I own a wrestling school here in London…how much more European can you get? Or do you just not like the fact that I am British?” She shrugs her shoulders.

“I do think that your exclusion of the English makes your moniker ‘The European Fiery Nation’ ever so dubious and questionable, but ultimately that is beside the point. It doesn’t matter because I don’t want to join your boy band. I don’t want to join you and your little European fraternity brothers. I am coming to the 02 to put on a show for my fans, for all of my friends and family who have supported me since the beginning. I am here because at the end of the day I am a WRESTLER and this great sport of WRESTLING is about competition. Two wrestlers, leaving everything in the middle of the ring, and you are my opponent. That’s all you are to me, an opponent. Besides, from what I hear the feeling is mutual.” Braddock nods her head. “I have heard the chatter. I might have been distracted these past few months with Dexter, Selena, Syren, and CHBK, but I am not deaf. I am not dumb enough to ignore everything that goes on around me. I heard that you have been itching for a fight with me. I have heard that you want to take your best shot at the best in the world.” The British Bombshell nods her head.

“And THAT, Kemal, is the one thing I will credit you for. I give you your props for targeting the best pure wrestler you know…namely me…and that you want to test yourself against me. That’s what wrestling should be. I respect you for that. So congratulations, Kemal, you get your wish. You get to test yourself against the best pure wrestler on this roster.” She holds up her finger. “But this is your ONE chance to make a statement, to show the world what you can do, so you had better make it count. Still, do not get things confused. You might have a good showing. Hell, you might have a damn good showing against me. In fact, I have no doubt that you and I will put on a clinic in front of these great ENGLISH wrestling fans. We will show the world watching at home what this business is all about. I have no doubt that you will do your best, you will use every move you know, every submission you know, and I will come back at you with every counter move I know, with submission I know, and maybe we’ll get a few dozen stars or whatever rating these kids give out nowadays. Yes, Kemal, I’ll give you your flowers and say that this will be a true wrestling classic.” She shakes her head.

“Unfortunately for you, all you get is the knowledge you will be part of a wrestling classic because beating me is not in your future. When the final bell rings Phillips will still utter the words you do not want to hear, the words you are destined to hear…” a wide smirk forms on her face “...the winner of the match, VIA SUBMISSION, Glory Braddock.” She shuts her eyes. “Sic Semper Tyrannis.”

[Kemal Yilmaz]

A day before Kemal's life changes forever and finally getting an opponent Kemal's always wanted since the day he got to SCW.