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.”

[Braddock]

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December 9th, 2025
Roslin, Scotland
Off Camera
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The morning in Roslin carried the kind of quiet that always felt older than the village itself, soft, gray light stretched thin across the rooftops, a faint mist rolling low along the street, and the damp chill of Scottish air clinging to everything it touched. The Julia Foundation looked almost solemn in the muted light, its stone exterior cool and dignified, the carved lettering above the door slightly darkened by the lingering moisture. Inside, though, warmth waited; light, movement, and the gentle hum of an organization built on compassion rather than spectacle. Glory Braddock paused at the entrance, one hand on the doorframe, exhaling a slow breath that billowed faintly in the crisp air. She looked casual, more casual than someone of her notoriety ever appeared in public. A soft gray hoodie hung loosely over a white tank top, her worn black jeans fitted and comfortable, and her boots scuffed from miles of walking across unfamiliar sidewalks. Her blonde hair, tied back in a low, messy ponytail, carried hints of the rainy morning in a few damp strands clinging to her forehead. She pushed them away absently with the back of her hand as she turned to the boy standing beside her.

John stood half a step behind her, shoulders slightly drawn inward, as if still unsure whether he belonged anywhere at all. He was skinny in the way kids get when they’ve spent too much time on their own, hands tucked deep into the sleeves of an oversized coat Glory had insisted he take. It hung off him awkwardly, but he wore it with a certain pride, the way someone wears something given with genuine kindness. His dark hair fell into his eyes, unbrushed but clean, and his shoes, too big, a mismatched pair Glory and Kurt had cobbled together from their house, scraped lightly against the floor as he shifted his weight. Being here was a big step for him. Glory knew that. And she could feel the tension radiating off him in small, nearly invisible ways. They’d spent the past few weeks trying to give him some sense of normalcy but Glory knew she couldn’t give him what he truly needed. Not the way her sister Julia could. Not the way this place could. She loved the kid already, more than she’d expected to, but she understood her own limitations. Her world, full of chaos, travel, conflict, and constant pressure, wasn’t built for someone fragile and still trying to rebuild himself from the ground up.

The Julia Foundation, though… this place was.

“Are you sure about this?” John asks.

“I am positive.” Glory says, a warm smile on her face. “I mean, this is my sister after all. I know she can help. And if she can’t…” she winks playfully “...I’ll put her in a choke hold.”

John chuckles uneasily to break the tension he, himself, is feeling. He has never had a permanent home. Has always bounced from place to place. He had some semblance of stability with Glory Braddock and Kurt Logan but he knew it couldn’t last forever. He just hopes that The Julia Foundation really can help and it isn’t just another temporary place. Glory led him inside, the warmth of the building wrapping around them immediately. Soft fluorescent lights glowed overhead. The lobby was modest but bright. John’s eyes brushed over the images with a sort of reverence, his gaze lingering especially on the photos of people around his age. Glory watched him quietly, noticing the way hope tugged faintly at the corners of his expression despite his efforts to remain stoic. When they reached the hallway leading to Julia’s office, Glory slowed her pace. Her boots clicked softly against the polished floor. John’s footsteps hurried once to keep up, then steadied. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch this time. That alone felt like progress.

Julia’s office door was slightly ajar, warm yellow light spilling into the hallway. Inside, the room looked exactly as Glory remembered: soft tartan rug, heavy wooden desk. A mug of tea sat near a stack of handwritten letters. The air held the faint, comforting scent of lavender, the same scent Julia always carried. Julia Braddock herself stood at the window, flipping through a folder, her posture relaxed but focused. Her blonde hair was pulled loosely into a bun, and a soft cream sweater draped over her shoulders. She looked exactly as she always did; calm, grounded, compassionate in a way that both humbled and strengthened everyone around her. Glory paused with John just outside the doorway, letting him take in the room, letting him breathe for one more moment before the next step in his life began. His shoulders rose and fell once. He swallowed. It was enough. Glory lifted her hand and nudged the door open the rest of the way. Julia looked up, her expression immediately softening into a warm, welcoming smile as her eyes landed on them.

“So that’s John!” Julia says with a warm smile of her own. The younger Braddock holds out her hand and John hesitates before accepting the handshake. Julia is used to hesitation such as this. “It’s ok, John. I know you’ve had a hard life but things will be different now.”

“She means it.” Glory chimes in.

“Yes, here at The Julia Foundation we will do everything we can to help your life started on the right foot.” Julia insists. “We are in touch with employers all over Europe, not just the United Kingdom, who could use employees like you. But Glory tells me you already have a possible career choice in mind.”

“Yeah…” he answers slowly, cautiously “...I, uh, I’d like to be a wrestler.”

“That’s easy, because I know both the owner of a wrestling school and trainer.”

“I’m the owner of The Glenn Braddock Wrestling School.” Glory answers and then points at Julia. “And she is a part time trainer.”

“As far as housing goes, we are not going to bounce you from shelter to shelter, although we do work closely with all of the homeless shelters. We have nice living facilities out back on these grounds. You can stay here for as long as you need until you are making enough money to buy or rent your own place.”

“Thanks.” John says. “This means a lot…” Julia goes over to her desk and pushes a call button on her phone. “Sarah? Could you come in here please?”

John, Glory, and Julia all wait. A few moments later another woman, this time older, perhaps in her fifties, wearing a navy blue pantsuit, emerges, standing attentive, ready for her next orders. Julia smiles warmly and then motions to John.

“This is John. John, this is Sarah Walker. She will give you the grand tour of our facilities. I will meet up with you two when I’m done here with my sister.”

John nods his head and follows Sarah out of the door. Once the pair are gone Glory Braddock shuts the door so that she and Julia can have a little privacy. Part of this visit is definitely about John and ensuring he gets in with The Julia Foundation and gets the help he needs. There is another motive here; Glory Braddock needs to talk to her sister Julia about another problem that needs to be taken care of; one that cannot be left alone and ignored any longer. Glory turns and sits down in one of the office chairs. She watches as Julia Braddock steps back over towards her desk. She prepares to sit down but stops. She looks over at Glory and glares.

“You didn’t do anything to this, did you?”

“What? Me?” Glory smirks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play innocent with me.” Julia snaps. “Last time you were here I nearly hit the floor trying to sit in my chair. You also hacked my computer and put all sorts of embarrassing pictures on there.”

“Oh but you were an adorable baby…”

“Stop it.” Julia says. “You didn’t prank me today, did you?”

“Promise.” Glory crosses herself like any good Catholic girl would. “The Queen of the Pranks is not here today. I came here today on serious business and part of that serious business was John.”

“Good.” Julia sighs as she sits down at her desk. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. I will take good care of him.”

“I know you will. That’s why I brought him here.”

“What else did you want to see me about?” Julia asks. “If you want to get some sparring sessions in I’m definitely free. I know you have a match coming up against Amelia Nevado. I have a match of my own coming up soon and could use the reps.”

“That’s a good idea, actually.” Glory nods her head. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Amelia comes from that same school of British style wrestling that you and I are familiar with. So wrestling YOU will basically be like wrestling HER. Great preparation for Shattered Reality.”

“See? I am good for something.” Julia grins. “A human punching bag.”

“Except I want you to punch back. Don’t make it easy on me.”

“Right.” Julia states.

“But there is one other thing you and I need to talk about.” There is a pause, a hint of tension in the air, as if the sisters know that this will be a touchy subject, and it will be. “Sophie.”

“Oh God, not her.” Julia rolls her eyes.

“She is our half-sister.”

“Don’t remind me!”

“What’s so bad about that?” Glory asks. “We were friends with her and her half-brother Mark growing up. We never knew that she was our half-sister. Dad kept that from all of us. But that doesn’t change that we were close, we were friends.”

“Yes, Sophie O’Brian is the product of an affair that dad had.” Julia states coldly. “But that’s not what bothers me. What bothers me is how quickly you are ready to forgive and forget everything Sophie did. That woman has always been a sociopath and a narcissist. She was convinced that she and she alone knew what our father believed in, that she understood our father’s teachings better than us, but all she believed in was total war, scorched earth policy, burning everything to the ground if it meant getting what she wanted. And she did some unspeakable things all in the name of achieving whatever her goal of the day happened to be.”

“I know all of that.” Glory nods her head. “And yes, I am ready to forgive…not forget, just forgive.”

“Why? How can you?”

“Because I have needed forgiveness myself.” Glory states plainly. “I lost myself. I went too far and became someone I hated. It took me a long time to find myself again.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Gloria.” Julia states. “Sophie isn’t like you.”

“How do you know?” Glory asks. “All I know is that Sophie appears to be making a genuine attempt to change her life for the better, trying to make herself a better person.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yes, I do, because she is my sister. I have thought of her as a sister even before I knew we were biologically related. I also believe her because she has known that we were sisters for over a year before you and I knew. She could have used that information to ruin our reputation, to ruin our dad’s reputation, but she kept it quiet. She never said anything and still has kept quiet about it out of respect for YOU, because she knows you don’t want it public. I think that says a lot.”

“Maybe you’re right…” Julia sighs and shrugs her shoulders “...what do you want from me?”

“All I want is you to give her a chance.” Glory states. “She is OUR sister. Accept her, embrace her, and not just in private, don’t keep her like a skeleton in the closet that you are ashamed of, because we have no reason to be ashamed of her. Let’s make it public. Let’s quit hiding this.”

“You trust her?” Julia asks. Glory nods her head.

“I do.”

“Fine…” Julia sighs and nods her head “...I give. We can make it public.”

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December 13th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera
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“The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock stood alone beneath the unlit marquee of the TD Garden, boots planted on the wide concrete plaza that, on most nights, would have been a river of jerseys and noise. Tonight it was nothing but wind-tossed ticket stubs skittering across the ground like dead leaves and the low hum of the city keeping its distance. Night one of SCW Shattered Reality has just concluded. Night two is now just twenty four hours away. She had her hands shoved deep into the pockets of an old black Carhartt jacket. The jacket hung open over a faded royal purple hoodie. Her jeans were dark, worn soft at the knees, tucked into scuffed brown boots. A single silver chain disappeared beneath the collar of her hoodie, the only hint of anything delicate on her. Long blonde hair spilled out from beneath a black beanie pulled low over her brow. Strands lashed across her face whenever the wind gusted, and she didn’t bother brushing them away. She just narrowed her eyes against them, pale blue irises catching the orange glow of the streetlights like winter sky over open water. The arena loomed behind her, dark and cavernous. Nothing left to see tonight, nothing but the hollow echo of her own breathing and the occasional metallic creak of the building settling into itself.

“The climb to the top of the mountain in professional wrestling is long and it is difficult but oh boy is it worth it. In arenas like the one behind me, the TD Garden in Boston, Massachusetts, you get to compete against the best this sport has to offer in front of thousands of roaring fans, all just to see who is the best. This evening the fans were treated to such a spectacle. Shattered Reality certainly has thus far lived up to its billing as a major event for Supreme Championship Wrestling. This evening some people’s realities were very much shattered. Other people kept their dreams very much alive and well as they continue to climb the proverbial mountain in SCW.”

“We are very much familiar with this climb, aren’t we Amelia? We are cut from the same cloth of British style wrestling. Both of us believe that this sport is based upon hard work, dedication, and pure competition. Maybe that’s why we keep gravitating towards one another? Maybe that’s why we end up, someway somehow, always fighting each other? We are mirror images of one another. Therefore we end up in each other’s orbit. Whether we have tag team partners and we’re fighting for the tag team championship or whether it’s just you and me one on one, you and I always find a way to meet each other along this climb to the top. And it doesn’t end there. Hell, we both tried to dethrone Cid Turner and we both came up short. Now both of us want to make this climb again, both of us want to earn another opportunity at the SCW World Championship, and I suppose that could be one explanation for why we are going to be clashing one more time in Montreal, Quebec, Canada tomorrow night at Shattered Reality; we know that our paths will have to cross at some point since we both want the same thing, it just so happens that our paths are going to cross tomorrow night.” The British Bombshell shakes her head.

“Oh but I don’t think that’s the reason. Unlike my bozo soon-to-be brother-in-law, I do not believe in Fate. I don’t believe Fate keeps pushing us together. I also don’t believe in happenstance or coincidence. What I believe is that you feel like you have something to prove. You need to prove to the world, and more importantly to yourself, that you still have what it takes. What better way to do that than by taking out the ONE PERSON you have yet to beat one on one?” She winks. “That’s me, by the way. Yes, you hold victories over me, but those were in tag team action. One on one, when the chips were down and the pressure was on, I always have come out on top. You need this. You are putting the pressure on yourself to finally go out there and get your White Whale.”

“That is where you are making your mistake, Amelia. I respect the hell out of you and, to be perfectly honest, you have nothing to prove to anyone. And you may deny that this is about proving something but let’s face it, who issued the challenge? You did. I have said it once and I will say it again, my climb back to the top is going to go the same way it did last time; I will wrestle anyone SCW decides to put in front of me. If they wanted me to wrestle Religious Wright in a dark match before Shattered Dreams went on the air I would have been fine with it. No complaints from me because, the way I see it, I need to work my way up by taking on all comers. But you specifically requested a match with me. You made the challenge. You want to take on The British Bombshell…because you need to prove that you are still at the top of your game.”

“Light in the Darkness has taken a bit of a hit lately. You lost the tag titles. Luz lost the United States Championship. You had a Trios Contract but then you lost your cash in match against Cid Turner. And hey, I get the feeling of disappointment. I won two Trios Cash Ins and failed both of my attempts. But never once did I feel as if I needed to prove anything to anyone after it was over. I knew that, despite those disappointments, that I was STILL one of the very best professional wrestlers in the world today. Even after my recent loss to Cid Turner, I KNOW that i am one of the best in the world. And I know that, tomorrow night at Shattered Reality in Canada, I will be facing one of the very best in the world. I know how good you are but you don’t seem to believe it yourself.”

“Unless you can figure that out, Amelia, you will NEVER beat me.”

“I appreciate the challenge, Amelia. I really do. Wrestling you is always an honor and a privilege. But for all of our similarities, the one glaring difference is that disappointments and setbacks have seemed to make you question yourself whereas me, no matter the setback and no matter the disappointment, I always know how damn good I am. I do not need to prove anything to anyone. I KNOW that, at some point, my own climb back to the top will eventually result in another world title shot. I just need to be patient and take on all comers. I need to defeat each and every single person put in my path. Right now, you put yourself in my path, and tomorrow night, I will defeat you again.” She smirks. “But regardless of what happens tomorrow night at Shattered Reality, I promise you one thing; the respect will always be there, Amelia, and when it is all over, I will shake your hand. So good luck. You’ll need it.”

[Wisteria Waltz]

OOC: In terms of reading order regarding my characters for this PPV, read Amelia's CD (this one) first and Luz's second. While they chronologically take place at the exact same time, something that happens in this CD will be referenced in Luz's to tie the two together.
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It was once said that the definition of insanity is doing the exact same thing over and over again, expecting different results.

If there was truth to those words, then one might think that Amelia Nevado was starting to go insane.

In the time she's been with SCW, she had crossed paths with the woman known as Glory Braddock on several occasions, and in the vast majority of those encounters, Glory would manage to prove she was the better wrestler on that night. The few times where Amelia had managed to prevail? Well, people loved to put asterisks on things just to claim they 'technically' weren't wrong, and Amelia's few victories over Glory was one of those things.

Twice, Amelia had beaten Glory, but everyone, including Glory herself, had refused to accept it because they were multi-team matches and Glory's team was never pinned.

The one time where that wasn't the case, where Amelia and Luz had asked for an elimination-style match to remove any and all doubt once and for all, people still didn't want to accept it because while Glory was the one pinned at Rise to Greatness XXI, it was Luz who had scored the pinfall, not Amelia.

Never mind the fact that Amelia had somehow found just enough life after falling victim to Glory and Lohan's Hell on Earth maneuver to initiate the Wisteria Waltz with her wife.

One fact that hadn't changed was that Amelia had yet to defeat Glory in a one-on-one setting... yet.

While many people believed that Amelia had perhaps lost her mind when she dared to issue a challenge to Glory for the Shattered Reality pay-per-view, Amelia saw it differently. Maybe she was a little insane, but one kind of had to be to make it as a pro wrestler given some of the crazy challenges that could stare you down in your career. For wanting another dance with Glory, though? No, Amelia wasn't insane for that.

As she had made clear when she issued the challenge, she saw Glory as one of her measuring sticks. A challenge she had yet to overcome on her own, but one she knew she would have to if she ever wanted to make a serious case for belonging in the main event scene of SCW. Glory was a former World Champion, she had become a Supreme Champion at the expense of Amelia and her wife, she had managed to outwrestle the Blythe-born prodigy time and time again utilizing her superior experience. On paper, this truly looked like the kind of challenge that was going to end the same way her efforts against Cid Turner and Syren had.

Amelia believed otherwise, and she had her own experiences to back it up.

Despite how often people loved to make up reasons for why it doesn't count, the fact that The Light In The Darkness had pinned Twisted & Sadistic, cleanly, on the biggest stage SCW had to offer and in one of its marquee matches of that night proved that Amelia could defeat Glory. She was no different than Amelia's own father, another extremely proficient British wrestler who had owned her number for years as a sign of dominance in an effort to keep her under his thumb. It may not have been in a traditional setting, but Amelia had made him tap to his own submission hold, the one he had used to choke her out countless times just to show her 'how it was done,' conquering a challenge she'd been told she couldn't overcome in the process.

In a twisted sort of way, Glory had a lot in common with not only Aleister Blythe, but also Caleb White.

There was the obvious, like all of them being Britain born and bred and all of them being highly regarded in-ring technicians and masters of the European style of grappling, but there were the equally obvious contrasts like Glory not being an absolutely irredeemable individual who was evil beyond words. To Amelia, however, there was a deeper connection: pride. Her father had believed his youngest daughter, despite being his prodigy “put on this Earth for the sole reason of being the perfect wrestler,” could never submit him, let alone outwrestle him in any capacity. Caleb had so much pride in his belief that he could transcend his wrestling legend and literally change the world that an entire religious cult now existed around him because of it, and it made Amelia question at times if she and Luz could even truly stop him before his lunacy reached biblical proportions.

Glory was a woman who claimed to respect Amelia, and yet in the same breath, her pride had also led her to point out time and time again that Amelia had never beaten her one-on-one, to the point where she truly believed such an outcome was impossible. Deep down, Amelia knew otherwise, and she was perhaps more motivated, now more than ever, to turn the tables for once and prove that all her efforts could yield the result she was looking for.

That was why she found herself in a gym, training her heart out as footage of her past encounters with Glory played on small TV screens set up around the training ring. Sure, they were all matches she had studied so thoroughly she could walk you through every minute of what happened from bell to bell in perfect detail, but right now? Much as James Evans sought to use a match he created to reflect “the real Cid Turner” in his pursuit of the World Title, these TVs reflected every setback Amelia had faced in her previous encounters, reminding her of exactly where she had faltered so she could learn from those mistakes and truly become better in the process. If she found herself in a certain hold, she could take one look at how Glory had applied it on her in the past and adjust.

For this endeavor, she truly couldn't think of anyone better suited to help than Darius and Henry. The former was serving as a referee of sorts, watching everything play out carefully and offering his two cents. While he admitted he was nowhere near as skilled as her father was, he was still a former wrestler and his ability to read people and offer adjustments had only heightened since he joined the NCA. Henry was probably the closest style match to Glory she was going to find among her found family, as Caleb had trained him much in the same way Aleister had trained her, and his technique was just as flawless and made for the perfect sparring partner to feel like she was actually training against the real deal herself.

“Forgive me, but I just don't understand why Luz isn't here helping.”

Amelia and Henry were moving into position for him to replicate the Shekhinah Glory hold for Amelia to work against when the comment was registered from the fourth person who had joined them today. In the time since they had welcomed Paul into their little found family, The Empire seemed to have backed off on their efforts to try and abduct him for whatever reasons no one still seemed to know. Part of Amelia thought it was a little odd they'd gone back to being so quiet again, but since the few members they'd crossed paths with lately seemed to be insistent on Caleb ordering that they be left alone for now, she wouldn't put it past the deranged zealot to be trying to rework his plans to account for having to deal with his most prominent enemies again over some guy who didn't seem to think he was all that important, but if Amelia agreed with her wife on one thing, it's that no one else would be losing their lives due to The Empire while they could do something about it.

“As I've told you before Paul,” Darius glanced over to the man as he sat on the bench outside the ring, watching as the sparring played out, “Luz is doing something with her family today that she feels is important.”

“Besides, Luz and I don't have to be attached at the hip for everything,” Amelia added. “Yeah, we love and support one another, and we'll probably have a moment to train together before she wrestles on Saturday, but if I'm going to finally beat Glory, I need someone who can replicate her style flawlessly.”

“And you're entrusting that to... him?” Paul replied, nodding his head towards Henry. “Are you quite sure he can be trusted? I believe you said he's the nephew of The Empire's leader, and... I apologize, I'm just trying to make sense of all of this.”

“I am Caleb's nephew,” Henry told Paul, perhaps a bit more of an edge to his voice than he might've intended, but the reminder and the doubt that accompanied it had struck a nerve. “But that man has used and abused me my whole life all so he could claim he 'saved' me from my father. I was nothing more than a puppet to him, something Amelia sympathizes with, and the least I can do to pay her back for giving me a chance to figure out who I want to be is to help her prepare for this match.”

Paul nodded as he slowly started to understand the bizarre dynamic that seemed to form the found family he was now a part of.

“I am sorry to hear you went through that, Henry,” Paul noted. “This Caleb White fellow certainly has his issues, by the sounds of things.”

“Understatement of the century,” Henry mumbled, though his brain fixated a little more on the odd tone he swore he heard in Paul's voice. It didn't sound like his words were sincere... then again, it was probably just in his head. Caleb had permanently tainted his ability to trust in others, and Paul was still trying to find his place among their little group as he adjusted to a dynamic that even Henry had to admit could get a little chaotic and hard to comprehend at times. Having to alter your entire life and adjust to something entirely new all in the name of safety from a madman... it was a difficult change to get used to, and he could sympathize with the man on that.

“Perhaps we can take a short break,” Amelia noted, feeling the sudden tension in the air. “I think I need a moment to step back and process what we've covered so far, and it seems like we could all use a moment.”

“Are you sure that's wise?” Paul couldn't help but ask.

“I'm just starting to fully grasp the value in taking a break so I don't go overboard or push myself too hard,” Amelia noted. “Probably for the best if I keep that up to avoid any ugly relapses.”

“It's not going to set you back to take a breather, Amelia,” Darius noted. “I'm sure if even Glory saw how hard you pushed yourself sometimes, she would be begging for you to pause for a moment. I doubt even she trains every waking moment she has available. It's not healthy, and I still curse your parents for thinking such a routine was going to make you unbeatable. If anything, it's a miracle you didn't suffer some sort of severe injury a lot sooner.”

“Would Glory care, though?” Paul chimed in once again as he stroked his bushy beard. “I'm sorry, but even though I've seen all your encounters so far, I'm still struggling to understand this respect you claim exists between you and her Amelia.”

“What about it?” Amelia asked as she grabbed her water bottle and took a drink from it. “We're both very talented wrestlers, we both come from very established wrestling families... even if I wish I wasn't such a 'disappointment' to my parents and their impossibly high standards. We both leave everything in that ring when we face off...”

“All true, don't get me wrong,” Paul held up his hands as if pleading innocence. “It's just... you make it clear you respect her, but I can't recall the last time I've seen her truly show you the same courtesy. I mean, she says she's happy to face you any time, but then she goes on and on about how inferior you are to her, holds it over your head that you've never beaten her. I'm pretty sure she also rubbed it in that your lack of... killer instinct, I believe it was? Lacking that was why you failed to become World Champion, according to her, and she's never seemed to have an issue with bending the rules if it gives her that slight edge over you. Kind of hard to be an objective fan of yours and believe her when she says she respects you in return.”

Amelia opened her mouth to respond... and promptly shut it. She hated to admit it, but Paul had a point. Glory had said, time and time again, that she respected Amelia, but while Amelia always made that respect clear with a clean match and nothing less than her absolute best every time, Glory almost seemed to shelve that respect whenever the time came for them to dance, almost as if her pride needed her to remind Amelia that she had yet to beat her to build this pedestal of superiority to stand on and mock Amelia without having to outright say it to her face. Glory respected her... perhaps only in the way that Amelia always felt like such an easy win she could fall back on whenever she needed something, and Amelia had offered herself up on a silver platter to give Glory the bump she needed to chase after the World Title once more.

“With all due respect,” Darius chimed in, keeping his voice stern to cut through any doubt that was starting to creep into Amelia's mind, “pride is a powerful and dangerous thing, and plenty of wrestlers who are serious about the respect they say they have for someone lose sight of it in the heat of competition. Both Amelia and Glory want the same thing, and Glory clearly has a lot of pride in her abilities and maybe doesn't realize what she's saying and doing in the moment.”

“I hardly believe that makes it alright,” Paul pointed out.

“Maybe not,” Henry noted as he climbed out of the ring and stared Paul down. “But that also doesn't mean Amelia has to stoop to that level if she's not comfortable. This is her match, her career, and she should be free to wrestle her way. What happens if Glory pulls these same tricks again, but this time Amelia beats her? Pretty sure if Glory wasn't genuine in her respect, she will be after that.”

“Does Amelia truly believe that, though?” Paul asked, and almost immediately he started to realize that might've been the wrong thing to say as Henry was almost immediately in his face.

“Do you have a problem?” he demanded of the man. “You've said you're a fan of Amelia and Luz, yet here you are doubting that Amelia can win all because of a difference in approach?”

“Is it really so wrong of me to worry because I'm a fan when Amelia is just letting someone claim respect and then walk all over her because of it?” Paul retorted, both him and Henry starting to grow more heated as Darius quickly stepped through the ropes to try and mediate so cooler heads could prevail.

Anything that was said between them at that point failed to reach Amelia's ears, because the only thing she could hear was the heavy sound of her own breathing, the intense pounding of her heart, and familiar voices that she knew she shouldn't be hearing ever again if she could help it.

“He has a point, dear... Glory doesn't respect you, and she's made a fool of you for far too long.”

“You're a Blythe. Deny it all you want, but you know I raised you to forcibly earn respect, and you've failed to do that with this one opponent whose family could never hold a candle to the legacy I built for you to inherit.”

Amelia wanted to tell the voices of her parents to shut up, that they were wrong, but she couldn't get her jaw to work. She leaned against the ropes, teetering on the edge of a panic attack as she heard her parents berating her over and over again in her mind, deeming her a failure for never being able to defeat Glory one-on-one. The mental criticisms eventually spiraled, turning to claims that if she had just followed the path that they had laid out for her, or if she had just accepted Caleb's welcoming hand and put her faith in The Empire, she wouldn't be in this position. She would be respected, feared, hailed as the greatest wrestler walking the Earth today. The World Title would have easily been hers and no one, not Cid, not Glory, not James, not even Luz would've been able to stop her.

She tried to cry out, wanting to beg the voices to stop because she knew they were wrong, but her body had long since stopped responding to her. Her spiral went unnoticed as Darius was too busy trying to keep Henry and Paul from getting into it as their own argument over what was and wasn't right about Amelia's approach from their respective perspectives kept heating up... her parents' voices blamed that on her, too, claiming that if she hadn't been so much of a failure then maybe her so-called support system was realizing she was suffering. She tried her best to tune it out, she even swore she heard Luz's voice trying to speak through the cacophony and reassure her, but the doubts were being especially loud this time.

“If you were such a failure, cariño, then you wouldn't be where you are today. Don't ever lose sight of that, and don't ever let anyone take that away from you. Not your parents, not Caleb, nobody.”

Amelia's eyes snapped open, tears dancing on the edges of her eyelids as those words cut through the noise loud and clear. It was a familiar voice, one that she had never heard in-person but one she had imagined countless times as she embraced the spiritual aspects of her wife's culture. She may not have had a father who actually cared for her, but she just knew that Luz's father's spirit was watching over her, showing her love and support even though he wasn't even alive anymore.

His voice had silenced the doubts that manifested as her parents' cruel criticisms, and she could finally hear it loud and clear: the voice of her wife, telling her that she could do this and she deserved to be able to finally have her time to reach the top. The voices of her siblings, her friends, all cheering her on, reminding her that if she could survive everything she's gone through at the hands of her parents and The Empire in general, then she could find a way to win this match her way.

Most importantly, though... she heard her own voice. She felt the shock run through her system as she couldn't recall the last time she had truly heard her own voice in her head, not speaking her thoughts, but telling her on behalf of her inner self that she believed she could do this. She had overcome her parents, she had built a life and a career that was all her own... The Empire did not dictate who she was, nor did anybody on the roster. Only Amelia Nevado defined who Amelia Nevado truly was, and that was the person she needed to believe in the most.

“Paul.”

Things between Paul and Henry were just about to boil over when Amelia's voice calmly cut through the chaos. All eyes turned to her, and Paul's lips briefly twitched into a hidden smirk when he saw how rattled Amelia seemed to be.

That smirk, however, vanished when she finally looked up, almost seeming like she was at peace with herself.

“You're not wrong to be concerned as a fan of mine, and I appreciate your opinion,” she stated. “But I know I can beat Glory... I've proven I can do it before, and I firmly believe now I can do it again. It's just like when I finally freed myself from my parents once and for all, or when I've found a way to overcome Caleb's schemes. If she wants to try anything, then let her... I will prove I can beat her and anybody else on my terms, because that's what makes me who I am.”

Darius and Henry both smiled and nodded, relieved to see that Amelia had achieved some sort of breakthrough as they climbed back into the ring and apologized for ignoring her. Paul also apologized for pushing her too far and letting his opinions as a fan cross the line... once the training resumed, however, he couldn't help but look away and curse Amelia for somehow patching the cracks in her confidence he thought he was exploiting.

Unfortunately for him, Henry caught this reaction out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn't ignore the iffy vibes it left him with.

[Wisteria Waltz]

The first thing we notice is the presence of mirrors all around us. Maybe that causes some confusion, considering we're certain this isn't something pertaining to a match where mirrors are actually going to be involved. The more we think about it, the more we perhaps begin to understand that the idea behind that match could apply elsewhere as well, and Shattered Reality certainly marks a pivotal night for the career of one wrestler in particular. The sound of footsteps echo all around us, and for a moment, we see things reflected in the mirrors surrounding us: a British flag, the SCW World Championship... a little girl, battered and bruised. A familiar young woman with an expression so cold you'd expect the glass to freeze over on the spot. An older version of that same woman happily embracing an equally familiar luchadora whole they hold championship gold high. All of these images have one common denominator, and she finally steps into view in the middle of this maze of mirrors.

Amelia Nevado takes a moment to glance at all the mirrors surrounding her, the memories we can still see reflected in them. Some bring a smile to her face, others feel like the mirror has broken and its shards are embedded into her body, but each one of them evokes some sort of reaction from her. We're used to seeing Amelia get passionate when it comes to the wrestling business and the things that matter to her, but what we're seeing now almost feel more akin to her wife, La Pequeña Luz. Eventually, her gaze finds it's way to us, a solemn expression finally taking prominence on her face.

“Shattered Reality... in a way, it almost feels a little too on the nose for me to think about. I know everyone will be talking about the World Title match, the steel cage lined with mirrors where Cid Turner will attempt to keep his reign alive against a man I know firsthand is more dangerous and twisted than he cares to admit half the time. And yet, mirrors can operate like windows to the soul, allowing you to come face to face with memories of the past with a little imagination. I know there are many out there who aren't fond of looking at themselves in the mirror, and often the reason is because they can't handle the person they see staring back at me.

Once upon a time, I used to be one of those people.

I've told you all, time and time again, about my upbringing. About the heavy expectations hanging over my head because I was meant to be the prodigy of one of the most elite and prestigious wrestling families in not just England or all of Europe, but in the entire world. Some, like Glory Braddock, were likely given the option to decide whether or not they wanted to follow in the footsteps of the legends that brought them into this world... I was never afforded that luxury. The decision was made for me from the moment I was born, and as soon as my parents were certain I was old enough, big enough, to withstand the path they would make me walk to get here, they began torturing me. You probably thought I was say it was 'training' and I won't deny that it was, but for every hold that I learned, I had to be broken and reforged over and over again until I didn't just get it right, but I had it perfected. If my father, a man so much older and bigger than I was, could break free of it, then it wasn't good enough yet.

For as often as I've told you all about my upbringing, no one ever seems to look beyond my words and fully understand the psychological damage hidden within. I was just a little girl, not even allowed to decide if I really wanted to be a pro wrestler just like my parents or not, and I wasn't just told I had to be a great wrestler... for the Blythe name, I had to be perfect. If there was someone out there who could outwrestle me, I was a failure. If I wasn't draped in championship gold, I was worthless. You will find no scars adorning my body, because I always had to look as pristine and immaculate as I had to wrestle... I have been on this Earth for 28 years, and for 19 of them, I had to be more than perfect because that's what was expected out of me for the sake of my family.

Answer me honestly... if you were in my position, endured everything that I did growing up, had parents like mine who set obscene goals to earn their praise and affection only to move the goalposts for every step you took towards it... wouldn't you still be plagued by this overwhelming need to prove to everyone else that you're good enough?”

Amelia lets that question hang in the air for a moment, her shaky breaths the only sound we're afforded in this space. She slowly glances over towards one of the mirrors, seeing a reflection of an Amelia Blythe that was maybe about 10 years old, covering her own wounds with makeup so no one would ever suspect that she was anything less than perfect. An image of perfection mattered above all else when you were a Blythe, after all. Amelia can't help but reach out and stroke her fingers against the glass, as if trying to comfort her younger self and reassure her that everything will get better.

“I'm not going to stand here and try to convince anyone that I'm not a flawed human being. I have my ups and downs just like anybody else, and I can't help that my brain has been hardwired by this point to take those downs even harder than most. My life has gotten so much better since that point... I met the woman who showed me that it's alright to be imperfect, I learned how to smile and actually enjoy myself, how to take pride and feel passion towards things I loved and wanted for myself. I've made new friends, rebuild old bridges, earned the respect of names that I know would have never cared for me as the woman I used to be. Wrestling used to be a chore, an expectation, something I had to do just because... now? Now there's nowhere else I'd rather be than in the ring, making my career my own and earning everything with my bare hands not for the Blythe name, but for me.

For all the similarities between us Glory, that is probably the biggest difference between us... and I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy you a little bit for it.

Maybe that's not fair of me to say. After all, you've been in SCW, wrestling in general, for so much longer than I have. I still have plenty of time to reach the heights you've spent so long establishing yourself at... but unlike me, you had the luxury of wearing this passion, this love for the wrestling business since day one. You honed your craft on your terms, with guidance from someone who supported you and wanted to see you succeed, where I was never seen as good enough and had to constantly be remolded further and further away from whoever I may have wanted to be until I was the spitting image of whatever my parents decided I needed to be.

If all those years of suffering, fighting to keep from losing sight of who Amelia truly is, struggling to make my own way in this world, have taught me anything Glory, it's that for all the cracks I see whenever I look in the mirror, I'm so much stronger than I truly am... I don't always believe it. Every now and then I hear that nagging voice in the back of my head, the criticisms of my parents, telling me that I should have beaten you every single time we've danced up to this point because as far as they're concerned, that's just the way things were meant to be. But if Luz, that lovable light of my life, proved anything to me in my first year of being a wrestler, it's that sometimes... the best thing for your career is a rival who can push you to heights that you never thought you could reach before, someone who isn't afraid to test you and make you understand that there are better wrestlers out there, that you're not perfect and you still have room to grow and improve.

That is how I see you, Glory, and that is why I felt now was the perfect time to step up to the plate and challenge you once again.”

As Amelia turns her full attention back to us, we see a flash of light in the mirrors before various other reflections greet us, each one of them painfully clear. Each and every one depicts a moment in time where Glory Braddock defeated Amelia Nevado in the middle of an SCW ring, and even the one moment that is clearly from when The Light In The Darkness finally prevailed over Twisted & Sadistic at Rise to Greatness last year is instead focused on the moment where Amelia was driven into the mat by the Hell on Earth, a moment that would have probably spelled the end had Amelia been the legal competitor at that moment.

“That experience of yours, Glory... that has been the difference maker. That is why you can take a loss and still call yourself one of the best to ever do this, even when so many others are happy to cast doubt on that claim. You've been there before, you know what it takes to get there again. Me? Yeah, I've been a champion all over the world, I've reached the very top of the highest mountains and earned the right to call myself a World Champion, but to do that in a company like SCW, where only the very best show their craft? You know as well as I do that's an entirely different feeling, especially for someone who's never had any idea how to truly feel about being considered the best because it was never meant to be an honor for me... it was the bare minimum expected of me if I was to even call myself a wrestler.

I want to make something clear Glory, something that I haven't said up until now but something I probably should have said a long time ago. I respect you, Glory Braddock... I respect the heck out of you, I thrive on the fact that every setback I have suffered at your hands has only pushed me harder to reach that level you always see yourself on. But for as much as you say you respect me in return... I'm sorry, but it doesn't feel like it sometimes. If anything, I feel like I'm talking to the Glory Braddock I had to call out last year for the lengths you went to just to get a Tag Title rematch from me and Luz only to show it was more about the titles than actually facing us as soon as we were upset for them by someone else.

Don't believe me? What happened the last time we faced off, aside from the fact that you beat me? That night, Luz and I were showing support for a friend who had just come back, standing by her side as she talked with CHBK... and you accused the man of giving me tips just to beat you, all because you had this vendetta of trying to prove to him that you didn't need to jump through the same hoops the rest of us did to earn our opportunities. When the bell actually rang, I gave you a clean match armed with nothing but the best I had to offer at that point in time, and you had to resort to a few extra tricks just to get that win by the very end. When I failed to win the World Title from Cid Turner, what was the very first thing you said when you knew he would be the one you would challenge for that belt? You said you would succeed where I failed because you had the killer instinct I lacked... if you truly respected me, then why feel the need to put me down like that just to bolster your own morale?

Believe it or not, Glory... I'm not mad. I'm frustrated that it doesn't seem like you truly see me as the potential equal you claim I can be, but I'm not mad over it. That's why I challenged you to this match at Shattered Reality... because we both have something to gain. If you win, you're back on your way towards the World Title, like I know you want more than anything else. As for me? I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can beat you in Montreal. I know because I've proven that it's possible once before, and if you want to get technical about it being a tag team match or that it was Luz who pinned you, then that just gives me a reason to step into that ring and truly earn your respect the only way I know I can... by beating you, by proving that Amelia Nevado is finally a step ahead of Glory Braddock, by reversing those roles so that you're the one chasing me. Why wait until the inevitable happens when I can finally look myself in the mirror and say with confidence that I may be flawed, I may not be perfect... but I am one of the best damn wrestlers walking this Earth today, and I earned that right by giving every last inch of myself to this business and meaning it every single time.

I've taken that good long look in the mirror Glory... and I see the woman I can be, the woman who will defeat you at Shattered Reality, the woman who will go on to become a World Champion someday. The question is... when you meet that Amelia Nevado this Sunday in Montreal, will you be able to shake her hand and truly acknowledge her as an equal?

I guess we'll find out on Sunday, because no matter what you feel you have to do to get the win this time, Glory... I will defeat you.”

The raw passion and confidence that Amelia speaks those words with not only echo throughout this hall of mirrors, but we can feel them resonate within our very souls. Perhaps Amelia truly has looked in the mirror and finally found whatever she was missing all along, or maybe knowing that a woman she considers her rival will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to stay one step ahead of her has finally ignited a fire we've only seen sparks of up to this point. Either way, we watch as the mirrors all now reflect Amelia Nevado, as she is now, with the kind of smile and determination that she deserves to wear, and as we start to fade away, we can only hope Glory is ready for the fight that Amelia plans to bring to her come Sunday night.