Glory Braddock vs. Amelia Nevado

[Konrad Raab]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: WEDNESDAY, December 17, 2025 at 11:59:59 pm ET (NOTE THE DEADLINE – this is for both shows)

[Braddock]

1 of 2
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December 8th, 2025
London, England
Off Camera
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A couple of days ago in Dallas, Texas Glory Braddock damn near ripped Gavin Taylor’s arm off and, in the process, fulfilled her campaign promise to Make Gavin Tap Again. It was entertaining and quite fulfilling to make the obnoxious jerk eat his own words and shut him up, but most importantly defeating Gavin Taylor means that The British Bombshell is back to her winning ways. She may have come up short in her quest to become SCW World Champion at Under Attack but she is not giving up. She won her way to a title shot once and she knows she can do it again. Defeating Gavin was just step one; step two is a very familiar foe in the form of Amelia Nevado at Shattered Reality.

Nevado, one half of Light in the Darkness, is no stranger to The British Bombshell. Glory Braddock took the SCW Television Title and SCW World Tag Team Title from Nevado, both of which she needed to complete the Supreme Championship. They exchanged the tag titles leading up to Rise To Greatness. They battled again in Glory Braddock’s quest to earn a world title shot the old fashioned way after bowing out of Taking Hold of the Flame. While Amelia, along with Luz, has gotten the best of The British Bombshell in tag action, Braddock has seemingly had her number in singles action. There is a deep respect there and Glory Braddock knows full well that she is in for a big fight at Shattered Reality.

The rain had been falling for three straight days, a soft, relentless London drizzle that turned the narrow street outside into a slick ribbon of reflected streetlight and made the old sash windows of the terraced house weep like they were mourning something. Inside, the living room felt almost too small for everything it now contained: the faint smell of damp brick, the low crackle of a coal-effect gas fire, the clutter of half-unpacked suitcases still lining one wall, and the three people who had somehow become an accidental family. Glory Braddock stood by the fireplace with one boot propped on the hearth, the way she used to when she was nineteen and still thought the world owed her something. She wore faded black jeans and a charcoal hoodie that had once belonged to her husband Kurt, sleeves pushed up to the elbow, revealing the faint white scars across her knuckles from nights she no longer talked about. Her hair, long and the color of pale wheat, was twisted into a careless knot. London had done its work on her quickly. The manicured Miami woman who glided around South Beach in linen dresses and oversized sunglasses had vanished almost the moment their plane touched down at Heathrow. Here, in a house that used to belong to her mother, the old Glory had come stalking back: shoulders squared, chin lifted, eyes sharp and wary like she expected trouble to come through the door at any moment. The softness Kurt had grown used to, the gentle laugh lines, the languid way she used to cross her legs, was gone, replaced by the restless energy of someone who had learned early that stillness was dangerous.

Glory Braddock finally felt more like herself again.

Kurt Logan sat sprawled in the single armchair that wasn’t broken, long legs stretched out, one cowboy boot tapping an absent rhythm against the rug. He wore dark denim, faded plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled high enough to show the roped muscle of his forearms, and the kind of easy posture that made the cramped English room feel larger just by occupying it. His hair had gone more salt than pepper in the last year, and the lines around his eyes had deepened, but he wore them well. He watched Glory the way he always did, like she was a storm he’d decided to stand in the middle of and enjoy getting wet. Between them, curled on the sagging sofa with his knees drawn up under a threadbare blanket, was John. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, it was hard to tell. His dark hair fell into his eyes no matter how many times he shoved it back, and his hoodie swallowed the thin wrists that stuck out like snapped twigs. There were still faint yellow-green bruises along one cheekbone, remnants of the night when Glory and Kurt, had waded into a park and chased off three older boys who had ill intent, who were bullying John. Then again Glory, this time with her son-in-law Clyde Sutter, found John and rescued him from bullying. This time she would not let him out of her sight. Braddock felt it was her mission to protect him, or at least get him some help. John hadn’t said much since. He ate when food was put in front of him, slept in the box room upstairs, and followed Glory around the house with the wary gratitude of a stray that wasn’t sure the bowl wouldn’t be snatched away. Tonight his eyes kept drifting to the rain-streaked window, as if he expected those boys to materialize out of the dark and drag him back to whatever life he’d been running from.

The room itself was a patchwork of temporary living. The wallpaper curled at the corners. A small flat screen television sat on a pine unit that looked like it had been rescued from a skip, its cables snaking across the floor like ivy. On the coffee table: three mismatched mugs, an open bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps, and Glory’s old leather jacket slung over the back of a dining chair like it was standing guard. A single lamp with a fringed shade cast a warm, amber pool of light that didn’t quite reach the corners, leaving shadows to gather around the stack of unopened posts. Somewhere down the street a siren rose and fell, the sound muffled by brick and rain. Inside, the gas fire popped softly. Glory turned from the mantelpiece, arms folding across her chest, and looked from Kurt to John and back again.

“Tha…thanks again for…uh…taking me in…” John still sounds unsure of himself. He sounds unsure of how to take in all of this kindness and compassion that Glory has been showing him. The British Bombshell smiles warmly at him.

“Where were you sleeping before?” Kurt asks curiously.

“Uh…just…” he shrugs his shoulders “...wherever.”

“What does that mean?” Glory asks.

“It means I didn’t really have anywhere to sleep.” He sighs. “I mean, sometimes under a bridge. Sometimes I might get taken in for a day two by someone but not for long. Usually it was on the streets if I could find somewhere safe and warm.”

“You don’t find safe OR warm on the streets of London.” Glory states pointedly.

“Don’t I know it.” John chuckles. “So yeah, thanks.”

“Of course, mate, but really, you don’t need to keep thanking us.”

“Yeah,” Kurt chimes in “we’re just doing what’s right, what’s humane.”

“Yes but you’re a Braddock.” John points out. “You’re GLORY Braddock. You got a wrestling career to focus on. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on me.”

“Oh pffft,” Glory scoffs “maybe you did forget that I AM Glory Braddock and that I am one of the best in the world to do this?” She winks. “At least, I was trained by the best and my seventeen world championships seem to argue that I am one of the best. And I do have an opponent coming up at SCW Shattered Reality. Her name is Amelia Nevado.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks. Glory nods her head.

“Yes and she’s really good. I should know because we have gone to war many times in tag team action and in singles matches. But when it comes to singles matches I have had her number. I have beaten her before and I will beat her again.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t.” Glory shrugs her shoulders. “That’s the nature of the beast. I just have to trust in my abilities.”

“But you should really be preparing for her, for that match, not worrying about me.”

“Nonsense.” Glory pats him on the back. “One thing my dad taught me is that there are some things even more important than wrestling. And my dad, being as obsessed as he was with the sport, that’s quite a statement for him to say.”

“I’m not that important.” John remarks quietly, sullenly. Glory shakes her head.

“Stop it with that talk, mate.” Glory states sharply. “You ARE important. Just because you are forgotten out there by society doesn’t mean you are not important. It doesn’t mean you are not worth it.”

“I know and I get that but…” he sighs and shakes his head “...I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden.” Glory shakes her head. “And as long as Kurt and I are here, you WILL have a place to stay and a place to sleep, I can guarantee that.”

“No, absolutely not.” John says emphatically. “I mean, thanks for helping me and all, but I don’t want a handout. I have nothing in life but I…I have my pride.”

The British Bombshell can sense a bit of intensity in his voice. He may have been pushed around and bullied by other kids, by society in general, but he is still a fighter. He doesn’t want to give up and, furthermore, he doesn’t want anyone to just give him anything. He wants to earn his way. Braddock cannot help but sense a bit of her father’s spirit in this young teenager.

“Good because I am not offering handouts.” She states. “I am offering a helping hand.”

“What do you mean?”

“First of all let’s begin with how I found you. Twice I found you getting pushed around by one or more than one bloke trying to throw his weight around. One valuable lesson you need, John, is how to defend yourself.”

“You mean…like…martial arts?”

“Yeah, basically.” She smirks. “I mean, the only martial arts I know is wrestling and I happen to know and maybe even OWN a particular wrestling school here in London.” She winks playfully. John’s eyes light up.

“Seriously? The Glenn Braddock Wrestling School?”

“The one and only.” She nods her head. “Not only can you learn how to defend yourself but you can prepare yourself for a career in professional, where you can make real money and earn yourself a place in society. You can put a roof over your head. Earn a real living. I can even pull some strings and land you a job wrestling somewhere once you have completed your training.”

“That’s…that’s incredible!” John exclaims. “But…I…I still don’t have anywhere to stay…”

“Like I said, you got Kurt and myself.” Glory winks again. “Besides, I also have a sister who can help out. Have you heard of The Julia Foundation?”

“Yeah, the place that offers housing, food, and…” his eyes grow wide “...wait, your sister owns that?”

“Of course. Julia Foundation named for JULIA Braddock.”

“Wow, I had no idea…”

“Most people don’t.” Glory says. “My sister likes to keep it under wraps. Same with me. Us Braddocks, we like to help people when we can but we do not take the credit or the glory…” she snickers “...pun intended, of course. Now why don’t you get cleaned up before we eat, ok?”

“Yeah, sure.” John gets up. He seems happy, excited to finally have someone who genuinely cares. He exits the living room area. Once he is gone Kurt looks over at his wife and chuckles.

“Are Melinda and Fiona getting a new brother?”

“No.” Glory rolls her eyes. “I know where you’re going with this Kurt…”

“I’m just saying, you wanted to ‘help’ Fiona and you ended up legally adopting her as your daughter.”

“That was a different situation.” Glory remarks. “Here John has someone who can realistically help him.”

“Your sister?”

“Exactly. Well, her foundation to be precise. Julia’s organization specializes in helping people just like John. It’ll be perfect for him.”

“Good.” Kurt nods his head. “And what about you? How does it make you feel to help this poor lost soul?”

“It feels good, Kurt.” A broad smile crosses her face. “It feels like I am really making a difference.”

“Helping one kid doesn’t fix the poverty problem.” Kurt answers. “But someone with your kind of wealth CAN make a significant difference.”

“Again I know where this is going.” She shakes her head. “I just fear that returning to Miami, returning to that life of luxury we once lived, maintaining control over my company, all of that returning to my life will transform me back into that monster I used to be.”

“You were never a monster.”

“Wasn’t I?” Glory asks. “I hired someone…Meagan Collins…who I KNEW had connections to the mafia, to organized crime, to be an enforcer for me when I felt threatened by Matthew Alan’s family.”

“Matthew Alan has mafia ties.” Kurt points out. “Your actions might not have been ethical but they were justifiable.”

“I just don’t like who I became when I came into that wealth and power.” Glory shakes her head. “But living here, in my hometown of London, living a simple life like my dad used to live, it has made me into the kind of person I want to be. Don’t make me go back, Kurt.”

“I won’t.” Kurt sighs. “I’m just saying, don’t make any rash decisions.” He smiles warmly and kisses her on the lips. “You are a good person. Whatever version of you we are talking about, all of you is a good person.”