Glory Braddock vs. Cid Turner

[Braddock]

2 of 2
=====

==========
October 27th, 2025
Birmingham, England
Off Camera
==========

The late afternoon sun drifted lazily through the wide bay windows of the Taylors’ Birmingham home, painting the living room in warm, golden tones. The light caught the edges of crystal decanters on a sideboard and shimmered across the surface of the glass coffee table where three half-finished drinks sat. Outside, the trimmed hedges and quiet cul-de-sac gave no hint of the life and laughter inside; a cozy hum that came from the easy rhythm of old friends who had known one another far too long to ever need to pretend. Glory Braddock sat sunk comfortably into one end of the cream colored sofa, one leg propped over the other, her boot tapping absently to a rhythm in her head. She wore a simple black T-shirt, a flannel button-down hanging loosely over it, faded jeans, and a pair of trainers that had definitely seen better days. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face, giving her a rugged sort of charm. She looked relaxed, more than she had in months, her guard lowered just enough for the tomboy warmth beneath the steel of her usual composure to show through.

The air smelled faintly of whiskey and lemon, with a touch of expensive perfume drifting from the opposite armchair. Melody Murphy sat cross-legged, one arm draped along the back of her chair, the picture of comfortable sophistication. She hadn’t changed much since their teenage years in London, still radiating that effortlessly polished energy that used to make heads turn and teachers sigh. Her blonde hair was styled in soft curls that brushed her shoulders, and she wore a pale blue blouse that shimmered subtly in the light. Matthew Taylor sat beside her on the loveseat, glass in hand, brown hair slightly tousled. He was dressed in casual rolled sleeves, open collar, watch gleaming against his tanned wrist. His easy charm filled the spaces between the women’s words, his presence grounding the energy of the room the way it always had. The three of them made an unlikely but perfectly balanced trio: Glory, blunt and rough edged; Melody, poised and radiant; Matthew, smooth and steady. The years had stretched and reshaped their lives, but when they were together like this, the old rhythm returned; the teasing, the laughter, the way one could finish another’s thought without effort.

The living room reflected Melody’s taste entirely; spacious, elegant, and curated with the kind of quiet confidence that money could afford but warmth could not fake. Soft beige walls were broken by framed travel photographs each with Melody and Matthew smiling in the foreground. The furniture was modern, all clean lines and gentle curves, accented by the glow of a large chandelier above. A low fire flickered in the fireplace even though it wasn’t cold, more for the ambiance than the heat, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls. The clink of ice in a glass punctuated the murmur of conversation. Glory leaned forward, reaching for the bottle of Scotch on the table, her movements unhurried and sure, like someone perfectly at home despite the polished surroundings. She poured herself a modest measure, then topped off Matthew’s glass at his nod before settling back into her seat.

“You know, Glory, not that I’m complaining, I mean, I love having you back in England, but I find it odd that you are back here when you have a championship match coming up in Minneapolis?” Melody says after sipping on her drink. “Shouldn’t you be there training or something?” She winks. “Or is Cid Turner right? Are you overlooking him? Are you focused on something else?”

“Cid may be a good champion but he’s lost his bloody marbles if he thinks I have lost my focus.” Glory states boldly. “Just ask Matty. I do my best work here in England where I grew up. When the spotlight is at its brightest, when the pressure is on, I always come home here to train. I come here to get focused and get my mind right.”

“She’s right, babe.” Matthew says, downing a big gulp of his drink. “For big matches she always comes back to her old man’s stomping grounds to prep.”

“And there isn’t a bigger match than this one.” Glory reiterates. “I fought hard to earn this championship match, but I also took a big gamble. Sure, I got the title match, but it will be for nothing if I don’t win. I have to beat Cid Turner. It’s all or nothing.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Glory.” Melody says with a purr. “I know how good you are. I also know how much needless pressure you put on yourself. You’re just like your father.”

“Oh well that’s actually good to hear.” Glory snickers. “In fact, that’s part of why I wanted to come back to England in the first place; to reconnect with my father’s memory.”

“Liar.” Matthew quips. “You came back because you are clearly attracted to me.”

“Matty, mate, the only thing about you that I am attracted to is making your life miserable.”

The two old friends share a laugh. Melody shakes her head in disbelief. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“It’s all in good fun, love.” Glory answers. “This is how me and Matty always interact.”

“It’s true!” Matthew answers as he finishes the last big gulp of his drink and slamming it down on a nearby table. “Our friend the corporate mover and shaker best wrestler in the world here used to be quite the practical joker growing up. We would prank each other all the time.” He snickers. “It was great!”

“Yeah, it was.” Glory nods her head in agreement. “Maybe it will be again after I rediscover myself?”

“I hope so.” Matthew says. “The current version of you is boring. So tell us, how is that rediscovery thing going?”

“Well…” Glory’s voice trails off and a wide ear to ear grin, a look of mischief, forms on her face “...how many glasses have you had, mate?”

“Several.” He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “Why do you…” as if on cue his eyes grow wide, bulging out of his head. Glory points at him playfully as his eyes seemingly grow even bigger and a look of disgust form on his face.

“And there it is.”

Matthew leaps up and charges out of the room. Melody looks genuinely concerned for his well-being but Glory Braddock, his best friend, is laughing her ass off. Melody looks over at Glory, thoroughly confused.

“What was that?!”

“Oh he’ll be fine.” Glory insists. “But he’ll be in the bathroom for a moment. Those laxatives are kicking in.”

“Laxatives?!” Melody seems stunned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I supposed I will have to look over my shoulder now. Ol’ Matty will be looking to pay me back. That’s how it works.”

“You two have an odd friendship.” Melody sighs. “But I do love seeing you like this.”

“Making your husband shit his pants?”

“No! Not that!” Melody motions to Glory herself. “This! Your clothes! Jeans and a tee…you as a tomboy just seems right.”

“You know, you used to make fun of me for being a tomboy.” Glory winks.

“And I was wrong.” Melody admits. “The thing is, I was jealous of you. You always were comfortable enough in you brown skin to just be whoever the hell you wanted to be and didn’t give a damn about society’s standards. You didn’t let wealth define who you had to be.”

“Funny you should say that,” Glory sighs and shakes her head “I fear my own wealth, specifically the success of my company, I fear it has gone and corrupted me.”

“Nonsense.” Melody shakes her head.

“I’m serious. I fear I’ve lost my way. That’s why I came back to England. I need to rediscover myself. Hell, I’ve even thought of selling my company, selling my home in Miami, and just staying here in England.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Why not?” Glory insists. “Obviously this brief stint so far in England has brought out the best in me, the old me; the tomboy, the prankster, the practical Glory Braddock. Maybe I should just stay here and live this more simplistic lifestyle permanently.”

“You can if you want.” Melody sips on her drink. “But I wouldn’t rush to judgment, I wouldn’t make any rash decisions if I were you.”

“Now you sound like Kurt.” Glory chuckles.”

“Your husband is right, though.” Melody says. “Money is not the root of all evil. The LOVE of money is the root of all evil. Money can do great things. Just look at what your sister did with her wealth; she created The Julia Foundation and helps homeless people and addicts all over Europe.” She points at Glory. “And you use your money to keep your father’s wrestling school alive, specifically focusing on people who need a chance, who need an opportunity.”

“My dad’s wrestling school…” Glory muses out loud. Melody nods her head.

“Yes, the best. And so many people have benefited from the opportunities he, and now you, have gifted them through the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School. You really want to throw all of that away?”

“I suppose you make a good point.” Glory nods her head. “You also gave me an idea.”

“Oh really?”

Before Glory can proceed, Matthew comes staggering back into the room. He is panting, heaving, and clutching his ass cheeks in pain. Glory starts laughing hysterically. The sight of her husband in this predicament even brings Melody to laughter. Matthew looks at Glory and, despite it all, smirks.

“Just watch yourself, Glory…I will have my revenge…”

“Bring it on, mate.” Glory answers. “I’ll be waiting.”

==========
November 1st, 2025
Minneapolis, MN
On Camera
==========

The morning air in Minneapolis carried a quiet chill, the kind that hinted winter wasn’t far behind even though the sun was bright and clear. The sky above the city was a flawless pale blue, vast and cold, stretching over the angular silhouette of the US Bank Stadium like a piece of glass. Its dark steel panels and immense sheets of reflective glass towered behind her, catching the sunlight in sharp glints that shimmered across the empty plaza below. The hum of the city was distant and the air smelled faintly of metal, concrete, and the crisp bite of autumn. Glory Braddock stood near the edge of the plaza, the shadow of the great building falling partly across her. She looked both small and striking against the modern architecture, an unmistakable figure of confidence and quiet authority. Her hands rested loosely on her hips, shoulders squared, the faintest breeze tugging strands of blonde hair free from her ponytail. She wasn’t dressed for glamour. Her look was casual but purposeful, every piece chosen for practicality and comfort rather than polish. She wore a fitted black leather jacket, slightly scuffed at the edges, over a gray V-neck T-shirt that clung softly to her athletic frame. Her jeans were dark, well-worn, and tucked neatly into a pair of brown ankle boots that had clearly seen their share of travel. Around her wrist, a simple silver watch gleamed faintly in the sunlight. No jewelry otherwise, no makeup meant to impress.

The wind brushed lightly through her hair, lifting it just enough to catch the light. Behind her, the massive glass walls of the stadium reflected the city skyline. The plaza beneath her boots stretched wide and empty, its pale stone tiles glinting faintly where thin puddles from last night’s rain still lingered. Each step she took echoed softly, swallowed quickly by the open air. The setting felt monumental, almost sacred in its stillness. The massive purple “Vikings” signage loomed high above, a silent emblem of spectacle and competition. It was fitting somehow—Glory, the woman whose life had been built on competition, whose journey to this championship match at Under Attack was a competition unlike any other, standing alone before an arena that embodied everything she understood. A gust swept across the plaza, tugging at her jacket and stirring the hem of her shirt. She exhaled slowly, her breath visible for a fleeting moment before it vanished. The sunlight shifted slightly as a cloud passed overhead, softening the hard edges of the stadium’s steel and glass. Shadows lengthened across the ground, and for a brief instant, everything seemed still; the wind, the light, even the city itself. Glory’s expression barely changed, but there was a subtle tension in her stance now, the faint tightening of her jaw, a readiness in her eyes.

“I love how our SCW World Champion Cid Turner is trying to frame this narrative about me supposedly overlooking him. I laugh my ass off thinking about the mere notion of me, not focusing on him, not focusing on the actual SCW World Champion, and instead choosing to focus on the Snow Queen who suddenly thinks she’s God’s gift to professional wrestling.” Braddock feigns innocence, covering her hand with her mouth. “Oops, sorry about that, Cid. I didn’t mean to offend you by mentioning ol’ whatshername.”

“Actually, I take that back, I DO mean to offend you, because you clearly have no problems with offending me. I mean, you stand there all high and mighty with that championship and claim that I don’t have my head in the right place? Do you even know who the hell you are talking to? My name is Glory Braddock and I was born and raised in professional wrestling. My father taught me everything I needed to survive and thrive in the cutthroat world of professional wrestling. He is THE reason that I had the skills and knowledge to become a Supreme Champion in SCW. He taught my many things, Cid, and among those hard lessons he taught me was that you were only good as your last match and that anyone can beat you at anytime on any given night. No one is unbeatable, no one on this roster is untouchable.” The British Bombshell points a finger at the camera. “You would think YOU, of all people, would understand that. I mean, I KNOW you understand it because that is one of the biggest stories behind your fairy tale comeback in this company. First you made your surprise return at Taking Hold of the Flame. At this stage of your career no one would have expected you to win but you did!” Glory claps her hands. “Congratulations, Cid! That alone is a huge moment, but you didn’t stop there did you?”

“You were in the main event of Rise To Greatness against three of the best to ever do it; Giovanni Aries, Xander Valentine, and the woman whose name we shall NOT bring up in fear of offending you again. No one expected you to win and no would have looked down on you had you failed that night. Yet you won. You became SCW World Champion again and kept your fairy tale alive. That could have been it, that could have been the end for you and no one would have blamed you for stepping away but you didn’t. You wanted to defend that title like any proud champion should. Who was ready to step up? None other than Amelia Nevado. I know how damn good she is because we have went against each other before many times. She had the advantage with the Trios Contract of naming the time and place. By all rights your fairy tale should have ended then and there at Apocalypse but you beat her. You remain SCW World Champion.” Braddock chuckles softly.

“Now let me get this straight; you won Taking Hold of the Flame AND you turned back the challenge of not one, not two, not three, but four of the very best in SCW right now, and you think I am going to overlook all of that, overlook you, not focus on you?” Glory shakes her head. “You’re either crazy as hell or you just do not know who the hell I am. Anyone willing to allow themselves to be drug along the proverbial leash like a pet by Holly Adams might very well be crazy, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you really don’t know who I am? It’s fair. You seem to gravitate towards that SCW World Title conversation anytime you are active in this company whereas me? I admit that I am all over the place. I compete against anyone and everyone willing to take me on. I am willing to take on any challenge. Unfortunately I haven’t had nearly the amount of time in the World Title conversation as you. So allow me to take this time to fill you in on who the hell I am and just who the hell is going to defeat you at Under Attack, take that SCW World Championship away from you, and maybe, just maybe, send you packing for good.”

“I am the woman who took the biggest gamble of anyone else here in this company by betting on herself. I went against the grain, I went against the wisdom of the day, I opted out of Taking Hold of the Flame and chose the long and more difficult path to a World Title Match rather than the perceived quicker and easier option. If I had to run a gauntlet anyway, I would rather the damn gauntlet one match at a time. I told CHBK to throw as many people as he wanted to at me, that I would win my way to a championship match. From The European Fiery Nation to The Fall of Man and others, I went through them all. Even the supposedly unstoppable Waylon Creek was beaten by yours truly. Even ONE loss along this road would have ruined not only my reputation but my opportunity to become champion. I still took the risk because I believed in myself! Guess what, Cid? My gamble paid off because here I stand as the number one contender to the SCW World Championship. Yet the gamble isn’t over, because there is still the one single most important match, the one at Under Attack between me and you for that championship. Yes, THAT is the most important match, THAT was the goal, THAT was always the finish line. Everyone else I fought along the way was merely preparing me for this moment. See, Cid, if I lose to you, if I fail to become champion, then my gamble will have been for nothing. Everything I did, all the work, the blood, the sweat, and tears, all for nothing if this does not end with me crossing that finish line first as the NEW SCW World Champion.” Braddock glares at the camera.

“Why the hell would I not be focused entirely on you? Why would I be putting my time, energy, and focus on anyone else other than you? I pass many people in the locker room. I talk to them. I interact, sometimes positively sometimes not so positively. Sometimes I have to throw a punch, just like in the case of whatshername, but you can rest assured that ever since the announcement was made that I would be challenging you at Under Attack for the SCW World Title, that YOU had my full attention. Once I knew it would be me and you for the title, there was nothing else more important in my life at that moment than you, me, and that match. Do you think I want to be known as the person who had one of the shortest SCW World Title reigns in history? Do you think I want to be content with having busted my ass off to earn this title match only to come up short against you when it counts?” Glory shakes her head.

“No! I am done with having just that one short reign to my name and after all the hard work I put in to work my way here to this point I refuse to come up short again! So believe me, Turner, I am one hundred percent focused on you, on this match, and I will do absolutely anything it takes to put you down and become SCW World Champion for a second time! So does it sound like I care, Cid? Does it sound like I’m focused? Believe me, I am focused. I am more determined than ever before. I am ready to end your fairy tale run, I am ready to close the book on your comeback story.” She nods her head. “It has been an admirable run, it has been inspirational, but every story has to have its end, and not all of them end with a happily ever after. Your story ends with me choking you out and Phillips announcing AND NEW SCW WORLD CHAMPION…” she winks at the camera “...Glory Braddock.”

“Sic Semper Tyrannis, bitch.”