Bree Lancaster vs. Glory Braddock

[Kemal Yilmaz]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 word max limit

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Wednesday, October 7, 2026

[Braddock]

1 of 2. Not sure how this turned out but at least I did manage to post something lol

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October 3rd, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The sting of defeat never quite washed away with the hot water of a locker room shower. For Glory Braddock, the silence following the final three-count at Rise To Greatness had echoed louder than any roar from the packed arena crowd. It was supposed to be her night, the grand culmination of weeks spent sharpening her body and mind in the damp, honest air of her father’s London gym. She had returned to her roots, stripped away every distraction, and convinced herself that victory over La Pequeña Luz was the absolute prerequisite for earning another shot at the SCW World Championship.. Instead, she had walked out of the ring with empty hands and a heavy heart. The match itself had been an absolute war, an exhausting masterclass of technical counter-wrestling and raw intensity that had left both women broken against the canvas. Luz had been every bit the formidable force Glory anticipated, matching her power move for move and capitalizing on the briefest, microscopic lapse in Glory’s defense to secure the pinfall. It was a clean defeat, the kind that offered no easy excuses or comfortable scapegoats. Glory hadn't been screwed by corporate shenanigans or caught off guard by an unfair distraction; she had simply been outmaneuvered in the final seconds of a grueling contest. For a competitor who defined herself through victory, the loss felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest, threatening to undermine everything she had sacrificed over the preceding months.

Now, the calendar moved forward without pity, presenting her with an immediate, imperative chance for redemption on the upcoming edition of SCW Breakdown. Her opponent was Bree Lancaster, another competitor coming off of a loss at Rise To Greatness and desperate to turn things around. For Glory, this match against Lancaster was no longer just another obligation on the event card; it was an absolute must-win situation. A second consecutive loss would derail her title ambitions for the foreseeable future, banishing her from the championship conversation. Rebounding required an immediate return to the absolute focus that had built her reputation. She needed to prove to the SCW roster, to the fans, and most importantly to herself, that one setback could not break her resolve. As she sat alone in her Miami study waiting for Catalina, the looming threat of Bree Lancaster served as a constant background hum, reminding her that while the corporate wars were fought in mahogany boardrooms, her ultimate truth would always be decided inside the four posts of the wrestling ring.

The late afternoon light had begun to bleed into a bruised purple and burnt orange across the Miami horizon, casting long, dramatic shadows across the polished walnut floor of the private study. Outside the broad glass panels, the salt air moved through the fronds of the royal palms with a low, dry rustle, a constant ambient sound that usually brought a sense of quiet solitude to the Miami estate. Inside, however, the air was dense and completely still, holding the heavy, lingering heat of a tropical day that the air conditioning couldn't quite chase away from the corners of the room. Glory Braddock sat motionless behind her desk, a massive slab of dark timber lined with subtle grain patterns that had seen decades of quiet contemplation and hard choices. She wore a dark, sleeveless compression top and faded black pants, her long blonde hair gathered into a loose, functional twist at the back of her head. One arm rested casually along the leather armrest of her executive chair, while her other hand lay flat against the cool wood of the desk, her fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm that matched the ticking of the brass carriage clock on the nearby bookshelf. Her face was set in a mask of absolute, unreadable focus, her dark eyes fixed on the arched doorway at the far end of the room. The subtle hum of tires over the crushed stone driveway outside signalled an end to the waiting. A few moments later, the distant, muffled sound of a car door closing echoed through the main foyer, followed by the familiar, measured click of high heels advancing down the tiled hallway. The footsteps were steady and unhurried, carrying the smooth, unwavering confidence of someone who refused to let herself appear rattled, regardless of the circumstances.

Catalina De Luca appeared in the doorway, framed against the warm light of the corridor. She looked immaculate, dressed in a tailored, off white linen suit that seemed tailor made for the Florida heat, her dark hair falling in soft, flawless waves over her shoulders. A slender gold watch gleamed on her wrist, and she carried a dark leather briefcase loosely at her side, her posture effortlessly composed. She paused at the threshold for a brief second, her dark, perceptive eyes sweeping over the quiet study, taking in the deliberate layout of the room and the silent figure waiting behind the desk before she took her first step across the threshold.

“You’re a little late, Cat.” Glory remarks. That’s very…uncharacteristic of you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Cat laughs softly. “Traffic was horrible. But I’m not going to give up this opportunity to visit my very best friend who gave me this opportunity to escape my family’s criminal past and make an honest living.”

This is the same story Braddock has heard before and knows all too well. Catalina De Luca is the daughter of a mobster who was heavily involved in trying to fix outcomes of certain sporting events. The crime family even involved themselves in professional wrestling. The only matches they did not involve themselves with were Glenn Braddock’s matches. He was such a well respected and admired person throughout Europe that even this crime family agreed to leave him alone and allow him to win, or lose, on his own merit. Catalina grew up around this but she wanted nothing to do with it. She wanted to make an honest living, and as luck would have it, Glory Braddock needed someone to help manage her corporate empire so she could focus on her one true passion; professional wrestling. Braddock thought that by hiring Cat to perform that function, she would kill two birds with one stone.

Yet ever since Cat got this power, she has been using her new influence to make decisions that Glory does not agree with. She has forced Glory’s opposition on the Board of Directors out. She has forced a minority owner out. She recently tried to completely renovate the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School right under Glory’s nose. The British Bombshell has had enough and she plans to confront De Luca right here and right now.

“Have a seat, Cat.”

Glory says, sternly. The tone in Braddock’s voice catches Cat off guard. She genuinely thought that this would just be two good friends catching up, or at worst Glory had asked her to come down here so that she could praise her. But this is starting to sound like something very different from what she expected.

“Wow, ok.” She chuckles softly. “Now it sounds like I’m being dragged into the principal's office.”

“It’s not the principal’s office, Cat,” Glory said, her voice dropping into a low, even register that carried far more weight than a yell ever could. She gestured toward the leather armchair opposite the desk. “Sit down.”

Catalina hesitated for a fraction of a second, her sharp eyes scanning Glory’s face, measuring the distance between them. The easy, casual warmth she usually brought into the room evaporated, replaced by the cool, calculating instinct of a woman who knew when a trap had been set. She set her briefcase down beside the chair with a deliberate, soft click and smoothed the front of her off-white linen suit before sinking into the leather cushion. She crossed her legs gracefully, resting her hands in her lap, but her posture was rigid, every muscle coiled beneath her pristine attire.

“You’re taking a tone with me, Glory,” Cat said, leaning back just enough to project an air of unbothered composure. “If this is about Charlotte, or the board members again, I thought we established that I was doing what was necessary to secure your position. You can’t build an empire if you’re constantly defending yourself from people who want to tear it down.”

“What we established,” Glory replied, her hands unspooling from the desk as she slowly stood up, her broad frame towering over the dark timber, “was that you were hired to execute my vision. Not your father’s vision, not your family’s playbook, and certainly not a vision where my name is attached to backroom threats and forced resignations.”

Glory walked around the edge of the desk, her heavy training pants whispering in the quiet room. She leaned back against the mahogany edge, folding her arms across her chest as she looked down at her Chief of Staff. The setting sun behind her cast her face in deep shadow, making her dark eyes look unyielding.

“I brought you in because I trusted you,” Glory continued, her tone measured, stripped of any residual hesitation. “I wanted to give you a legitimate life, and in return, I expected you to honor the way I do business. My father earned his respect because he refused to take shortcuts. He didn't need muscle, intimidation, or quiet payouts to command a room. And neither do I.”

Catalina’s jaw tightened slightly, the mask slipping just enough to reveal the sharp, defensive pride beneath. “Let’s be honest with ourselves, Gloria. The company is stable. Political threats are neutralized. Financial projections are strong. The company couldn’t be in a better position right now and you are safer than ever. Thanks to me eliminating the threats, there is no way you could ever be ousted from your own company again.” She nods her head. “Yes, I know how your enemies ousted you once before but you fought and clawed to win it back.”

“I remember.”

“Well now you won’t have to worry about that. The threat is neutralized. You are safe. I protected you.” Cat insists.

“You protected your control,” Glory corrected softly. “You insulated me until the people who worked for me didn't even recognize me when I walked through my own front door. You thought because I didn't want the headaches of the corporate world, I’d be blind to what you were doing. But that stops today.”

“So what do you want?” Cat asks curiously. “I thought you wanted me to run this show so you can do what you could focus on being the best professional wrestler alive today. Furthermore, I thought you wanted me to run this company because you were afraid of what this company turns you into.” Catalina watches her carefully. Glory nods her head.

“You’re right, I was afraid. I know what running this company can do to me, so I hired you as a shield. But I realized that I made a mistake. Instead of fixing the problem I ran away from it like a coward. I am a Braddock, we are fighters, but I chose to let you do the fighting for me. And in the process I became diminished. I became an owner who doesn’t show up to do her job.” She sighs and shakes her head. “No one in my own company bothers to consult me about anything anymore. They just assume you speak for me and, based on some recent decisions of yours, that is definitely not the case.”

“You wanted insulation.” Cat points out.


“I wanted discipline. Not distance.” Catalina tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing as she met Glory’s gaze directly.


“And what does that mean, exactly? Are you firing me?”

“I’m not firing you.” Glory smiles for the first time since this tense meeting began. “Why would I fire on my oldest friends? Furthermore, why would I fire someone who is genuinely trying to go straight and make an honest living away from her family’s criminal empire? I’m not a monster, Cat.”

“Then what does this mean?”

“It means the leash just got pulled all the way back,” Glory stated, her voice ironclad as the final crimson light of the Florida sunset faded into twilight outside. “You keep your title, and you keep managing the day-to-day operations. But the role is changing. There will be no more back-channel influence. No more pressure politics. No more bypassing her. All major decisions will require my presence. my voice. MY accountability. Every decision, every memo, every contract, and every board interaction goes through me first.”

“You realize that this will make you vulnerable.” Cat points out. “You won’t be as safe as you once were.”

“Vulnerablity isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” Glory states. “Being protected at all times from danger tends to make one weak. I refuse to become weakened, Cat. Even if it means having to confront my own fears.”

“Fair enough.” Cat nods her head. “You’re taking the hard way. Just like your father.”

“Yes, well, I get it honestly.”

The quiet that settled over the Miami study as Catalina left was different from the heavy, suffocating silence that had preceded her arrival. The final crimson rays of the sun had surrendered entirely to the deep indigo of the Florida night, leaving the room illuminated only by the warm amber glow of a single desk lamp and the soft moonlight filtering through the palm fronds outside. Glory remained standing by the edge of the mahogany desk for a long moment, listening to the fading rhythm of Cat's heels as they clicked down the tiled hallway, followed by the quiet closure of the front door and the distant crunch of tires pulling away down the gravel driveway. The confrontation had been a long time coming. From the quiet streets of London to the sleek corporate atrium in Charlotte, Glory had spent months watching the edges of her life fray under the weight of delegated authority. In her desire to protect her spirit from the corrupting influence of power, she had inadvertently created a vacuum, allowing Catalina’s pragmatic, grey-area methods to define the Braddock name. She had sought insulation, but in doing so, she had traded away her leadership, becoming a stranger in her own company and a ghost in her father's wrestling school.

Now, the line had been drawn. Glory had not destroyed the bridge between herself and her oldest friend, nor had she cast Catalina back into the cold shadow of her family’s criminal history. Instead, she had asserted the one thing that had been missing from her executive tenure: true accountability. By pulling the leash back and demanding that every decision, contract, and corporate policy flow directly through her own hands, Glory had accepted the full burden of leadership. She was no longer running from the messy realities of the business world, nor was she hiding behind a Chief of Staff to do her dirty work. If her company was going to succeed, it would do so on her terms, bound by the rigid, honest ethics her father had taught her.

The personal shift echoed the resolve she needed for her career inside the squared circle. The defeat against La Pequeña Luz at Rise To Greatness had cut deep, stripping away her illusions of invincibility and forcing her to confront her own vulnerabilities. But as she had told Cat only moments before, vulnerability was not weakness unless one allowed it to be. The hard road was the only road worth walking. Tomorrow, she would return to the gym, push her body through the grueling physical demands of training, and prepare to face Bree Lancaster on Breakdown with the single-minded ferocity that had made her a champion. Glory walked around her desk and slowly lowered herself into her executive chair. She reached down, picked up the thick leather binder containing the company's master financial reports, and opened it beneath the warm light of the lamp. There was no hesitation in her posture, no trace of the lingering anxiety that had haunted her in London or Charlotte. The corporate battles were far from over, and the path back to the SCW World Championship would be paved with relentless opposition, but "The British Bombshell" was no longer a spectator in her own life. She was grounded, focused, and fully in control, ready to fight for her legacy both in the boardroom and beneath the blinding lights of the ring.

[Braddock]

2 of 2
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October 4th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The rhythmic, heavy thud-thud-thud of leather striking leather echoed off the smooth concrete walls of the subterranean gym. Down here beneath the main floor of Glory Braddock’s Miami home, the space bore almost no resemblance to the weathered, historical charm of the Braddock Wrestling School back in London. This was a private sanctuary built for modern, elite athletic performance, fully climate controlled with state of the art air filtration that kept the space cool and crisp, entirely free of the damp humidity clinging to the Florida air outside. Recessed LED panels lined the bright ceiling, casting a clean, shadowless white light across sleek rubberized flooring, high end selectorized weight machines, custom power racks with gleaming chrome barbells, and an expansive wall of floor to ceiling mirrors. A wall mounted digital monitor flickered quietly in the corner, displaying heart rate metrics and workout intervals, while a subtle surrounding sound system hummed with a low, driving beat.

“The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock was entirely locked into her rhythm, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. She stood in front of a heavy, hundred pound black leather striking bag suspended from a reinforced steel beam overhead. She was drenched in sweat, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight, damp braid that whipped across her shoulder with every violent movement. She wore dark blue athletic compression shorts and a black athletic top, her knuckles wrapped tight in white sport tape that was already fraying around her wrists. Each combination was delivered with crisp, terrifying power, her breathing sharp and measured through her nose as she drove her fists and elbows into the dense leather, making the heavy bag swing and sway on its thick steel chain. The physical exertion was her outlet, the raw, repetitive impact allowing her to burn off the lingering frustration of the past few weeks, clearing her head after the exhausting meeting with Catalina and the bitter taste of her recent defeat.

Near the base of the open timber staircase leading down into the basement, Sophie O’Brian stepped quietly into the room. Her presence was a striking contrast to the sterile, high tech athleticism of the gym. Bearing an uncanny resemblance to her sister with her delicate, highly expressive features, rounded facial structure, and rich, wavy dark hair, Sophie looked as though she had just arrived from a completely different world. She was dressed in an elegant, feminine outfit featuring a high waisted, pleated cream skirt that fell gracefully just below her knees and a light pastel blue fitted knit sweater with three quarter sleeves. On her feet were a pair of smooth, low heel leather shoes that clicked faintly against the polished floorboards of the landing before being swallowed by the dense rubber matting of the gym floor.

Sophie carried a gym bag with her and held a bottle of cold water in her hand. She stood near the bottom of the stairs for a moment, her bright, observant dark eyes watching Glory work with a mix of quiet respect and sisterly concern. She didn't call out or make a sudden movement to startle her, knowing better than to interrupt a Braddock in the middle of a heavy striking drill. Instead, she simply leaned back against the smooth, chrome railing of the staircase, content to wait until Glory caught her breath and finally noticed she was no longer alone in the room.

“So, are you just going to stand there in awe all day long, mate?” Glory remarks quickly, stopping to turn to face Sophie. The Art of War remains stoic for a brief moment before smiling herself.

“You were in a zone, as my brother so eloquently puts it. I did not wish to interrupt you.”

“Well you’re right, I was in a zone.” Glory nods her head. She reaches over, grabs a towel, and wipes some sweat from her face. “I lost to Asher. Then I lost to Luz at Rise To Greatness. Seriously, Sophie, if I want to EARN my way back to an opportunity at the SCW World Championship, I need to wrestle better than I have been lately. So I’ve been spending more time in the gym.”

“A victorious warrior is always ready for battle.” Sophie remarks. “Being prepared is wise, so if you wish I could get changed and spar. I did bring my gear.” Sophie drops her gym bag on the floor. Glory grins knowingly.

“I might take you up on that, mate. My next opponent is Bree Lancaster. I know I have beaten her once before, I beat her to win my first and only SCW World Championship. But I also know she’s still very ruthless and aggressive.” She points a finger at Sophie. “Two traits that describe you all too well.”

“I shall take that as a compliment, Gloria.” Sophie looks around the room. “I must admit, some of this equipment appears to be new.”

“It is.” Glory admits. “Some of it is equipment Cat had tried to install in the Braddock Wrestling School. You know? How she tried to go over my head? We could have just sent them back and got our money back but instead I personally purchased the equipment for my personal gym here in Miami. I figured there’s no use letting it go to waste.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You seem to find value in the equipment. And yet you do not wish to see them used by the students at our father’s wrestling school.”

“That’s different.” Glory remarks, shaking her head. “I wanted to preserve dad’s vision and legacy.”

“Times change and evolution will stop for no one.” Sophie states cooly. “I believe even the great Glenn Braddock would have understood that. But I think there is an underlying reason why you wouldn’t let this new equipment be installed at the school.”

“You’re right…” Glory sighs “...it was Cat. I cannot let her get by with going over my head. If she had actually approached me about this then maybe I would have agreed.”

“Therein lies your problem.” Sophie remarks as she approaches her sister. “For the longest of times, for years even, you have wanted to have it both ways, you wanted to have your cake and eat it too. You wanted to be the owner of a massive organization yet you did not want the responsibility of making the decisions. You pawned that off onto De Luca under the guise of helping her escape her family’s dark past and the moment she makes a decision you disagree with, you freak out.”

“You’re right, Sophie.” Braddock nods her head. “I did freak out.”

“Huh…that is odd, I was half-expecting an argument from you…”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Braddock smirks. “But I get it now; I understand what you, Kurt, Julia, and everyone else have been trying to tell me. I cannot hide from my responsibilities. Cat can help do some of the heavy lifting when it comes to running the company but ultimately the decisions have to be mine if the company is to be mine and to follow my vision. So Cat and I had a nice heart to heart conversation yesterday and sorted everything out.”

“Did you fire her, by chance?” Sophie asks curiously. Glory shakes her head.

“No, I didn’t fire her. I still need her to help run the company so I can focus on what I truly want to do; wrestle. But at the same time I am prepared now to take responsibility when the time comes and make the hard decisions that I need to.”

“So Ms. De Luca is on a tighter leash now?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Glory answers.

“Good.” Sophie places a hand on her shoulder. “As long as this distraction has been eliminated, you can now focus on what truly matters to you.”

“That’s right. And speaking of which,” Braddock kicks Sophie’s gym bag “get changed. I need to spar and you’re the most vicious sparring partner I know.”

“Consider it my civic duty, Gloria. Though if I end up tearing a seam in your fancy new matting, you are answering to Kurt.” Sophie chuckled softly, the delicate sound echoing off the smooth concrete walls before she bent down to unlace her smooth leather shoes.

Glory let out a genuinely warm laugh, the lingering tension in her shoulders finally melting away. She walked over to the wooden bench lined with fresh towels, unwrapping the fraying sport tape from her knuckles and tossing the scraps into a nearby bin. For the first time in months, her mind felt completely clear. The oppressive shadow of the boardroom, the doubts about her legacy, and the fear of her own authority had all been dragged into the light and stripped of their power. She was no longer running from the crown she wore, nor was she letting anyone else decide how heavy it should be.

She watched as Sophie disappeared into the adjacent changing room, leaving the modern subterranean gym in a momentary, peaceful stillness. The quiet hum of the air filtration and the steady pulse of the wall monitor were no longer reminders of an overwhelming corporate weight; they were simply the tools of her trade. She had confronted Catalina, reclaimed her voice, and accepted the full, unvarnished weight of being a leader.

When Sophie stepped back out onto the rubberized floor, now clad in dark sparring tights and a fitted athletic top with her dark hair swept up into a high, practical ponytail, her demeanor had shifted completely. The elegant, soft-spoken half-sister was gone, replaced by the sharp, dangerous focus of a seasoned combatant. She slipped on her gloves, tapped them together with a dull, heavy thud, and stepped onto the central mat with a predatory, effortless grace.

Glory grinned, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped up to meet her. The road ahead was long, fraught with corporate landmines and the dangerous threat of Bree Lancaster waiting in the ring on Breakdown. But as she raised her guards and locked eyes with her sister, Glory Braddock knew she was finally ready. The British Bombshell was back in her element, fully grounded, completely in control, and prepared to fight for every single inch of her empire.

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October 7th, 2026
Pittsburgh, PA
On Camera
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High above the bustling city streets of Pittsburgh, the golden light of late afternoon washed over the rooftop balcony, casting long shadows across the weathered stone railing. “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock stood commanding the space, framed by the hazy, classic facades of surrounding brick and limestone apartment towers. Her presence was striking and deliberate: hands resting firmly on her hips, blonde hair effortlessly swept back, and piercing eyes fixed forward with total composure. She wore a rich, tailored tweed blazer in dark brown and off white patterns, layered over an olive green silk blouse. Below, an intricate mustard yellow patterned mini skirt was adorned with a layered gold chain belt that glimmered in the sun, catching the warm light. Standing against the backdrop of Pittsburgh, Braddock seemed entirely in control of her surroundings.

“Pittsburgh. The Steel City. A city of champions if you ask fans of the Pittsburgh Steelers, although these past few seasons that team has definitely not looked like a championship team, and I’m sure even their fans would agree with me on that. And in the past few months I have not looked like the seventeen time former world champion and four time hall of famer that I am. In the past few months I have not looked like arguably one of the best professional wrestlers in the world today. And that’s entirely on me. I wanted to once again bet on myself and earn my way back to a shot at the SCW World Championship, not through a shortcut like Taking Hold fo the Flame but by winning matches, by beating anyone and everyone SCW puts in front of me. I am not here to take sides in a war between CHBK and Frank. I am not here to curry anyone’s favor. I just want to wrestle. I want to compete against the very best and prove that I deserve to be in title contention.” Braddock sighs and shrugs her shoulders.

“Yet lately things haven’t gone my way. I lost to Asher Hayes in the buildup to Rise To Greatness. Then at Rise To Greatness I was beaten by Luz. Now there’s no shame in losing to either. Both are great talents. Both are incredible wrestlers. But history only remembers the winners and the winners are the ones who are rewarded. Some might argue that I needed to be humbled.” She snickers. “Funny, I never thought of myself as arrogant, conceited, or overbearing. You have people in this company like Syren, Gavin, even my opponent on Breakdown, Bree, who think they are entitled to the main event spot just because they walk across the threshold of an SCW arena. But week in and week out I specifically state that I am not entitled to a damn thing and I consistently preach that I want to EARN my opportunities. Yet I’m the one everyone thinks is conceited? Seriously, who thought of that script?”

“No one is entitled to anything in this business. It doesn’t matter if your name is Cruze or Frost or Lancaster. It doesn’t matter if you are the SCW World Champion herself Deana Frost. Congratulation, Deanna. I mean that. I am genuinely happy for you. But I think even you would agree that, as champion, you are not truly entitled to anything, because that championship reign could end just like that.” She snaps her fingers. “Because there are many hungry competitors on this roster looking to fight, scratch, and claw to earn the right to challenge for that title and to one day become SCW World Champion. And I am one of those hungry competitors. Despite the run of bad luck, despite the bumps in the road, despite the string of losses, I am not going to quit betting on myself. Just the great fans here in Pittsburgh still believe in their beloved Steelers no matter how hard the times get, I still believe in myself. I still believe that I can defeat anyone on this roster on any given night.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.

“That includes you, Bree. You should know that I can beat you because I did beat you. I beat you to end your reign as SCW World Champion. I humbled you once before and damn it I can do it again. But what’s even more interesting about this is the fact that you also are coming off of a tough loss at Rise To Greatness. You lost to Syren.” Braddock chuckles. “If its any consolation, I’m not fan of Syren’s, either. But the fact is that you lost. You lost and so did I. Which means both of us have had some big setbacks on our march back to title contention, which makes this match between you and I on Breakdown from Pittsburgh all the more important.” She holds up one finger.

“ONE OF US will get a much needed win. ONE OF US will build some momentum. And the other will take yet another tough loss. The other will take a very big step backward. You just returned, to much fanfare, but how is that grand return going to look when your record shows a loss to Syren and a loss to The British Bombshell in two back to back must win matches?” Glory smirks knowingly. “In fact, I wonder what Frank might think about you losing to The British Bombshell right here in Pittsburgh?”

“I will admit that my cousin Kimmy is an oddball. Hell, she’s downright as insane as she claims. But she’s not dumb. And I recall how she has often warned the likes of Dawn Lohan and Polly and others about what will happen if and when Mr. Delatosso decides that one of his assets no longer serves a purpose? So I put that question to you, Bree. If you continue to lose, if you continue to fail when it matters most, you not only risk the obvious possibility of losing your spot in title contention, but you risk losing favor with the man who has rolled out the red carpet for you, who has brought about this pomp and circumstance for your return, you risk losing favor with the man who has gifted you with these opportunities. Eventually he will no longer view you as an asset. He will view you as a liability. And yes, if you continue to fail, he will drop you like a bad habit.”

“So let’s face facts, Bree. This is a match that neither of us can afford to lose. I can’t speak for you but despite everything that has gone wrong for me lately, I still believe in myself. I refuse to let a few losses get me down. No matter how many times I get beaten, I will always keep fighting back. And I KNOW that I have what it takes to defeat you on Breakdown tomorrow night in Pittsburgh. Can you honestly say the same thing?” She shuts her eyes. “Sic Semper Tyrannis.”