02-12-2026, 08:13 AM
2 of 2
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February 7th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The private workout area beneath Glory Braddock’s Miami home felt cut off from the rest of the house. The basement ceiling was higher than expected, reinforced with exposed beams that gave the space an industrial honesty, as if this room had never pretended to be anything other than what it was. The lighting was bright but warm, set into recessed fixtures that eliminated shadows without making the room feel clinical. One wall was mirrored from floor to ceiling, streaked faintly with the marks of hands and shoulders that had brushed against it over time. Another wall was lined with shelves holding neatly organized equipment, resistance bands, taped wrists guards, water bottles, towels; the air carried the unmistakable smell of effort, sweat mixed with rubber mats and the faint metallic tang of iron. At the center of the room stood a wrestling ring scaled slightly smaller than regulation size but no less serious. The canvas was worn and scuffed, its surface bearing the subtle discolorations that came from years of hard landings and repeated drills. The ropes were taut, wrapped in clean white tape that contrasted sharply with the darker padding on the turnbuckles. The mat beneath the ring extended outward in all directions, thick and forgiving, evidence that this was a place designed not just for performance but for survival.
Glory leaned forward near one corner of the ring, hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath. Her long blonde hair had come loose during the session and now hung in damp strands around her face and down her back, clinging slightly to her skin. She wore a black sports tank that was darkened with sweat along the collar and spine, paired with compression shorts that allowed full movement without distraction. Her boots were unlaced now, the tongues folded outward, and her wrists were still taped, the white wrap smudged and fraying from repeated contact. There was a solid heaviness to her stance even in rest, the kind that came from years of training and instinctively knowing where her weight belonged. Her shoulders rose and fell steadily as her breathing slowed, muscles still taut as though they had not yet received permission to relax. Across from her, Sophie O’Brian stood upright, rolling one shoulder slowly as she stretched it out. She was Glory’s half-sister and mirror in some ways and her opposite in others. Her dark brunette hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that had loosened over the course of the match, strands escaping to frame her face and stick to her neck. She wore a deep green athletic top that clung to her torso, the fabric creased and damp, paired with black leggings that showed faint chalk marks from the mat. Her boots were a different style than Glory’s, more streamlined, with thinner soles that suggested speed over power. The tape around her hands was darker with sweat, molded to her knuckles like a second skin.
The space between them carried the quiet aftermath of controlled violence. The echoes of movement still seemed to hang in the air, the memory of bodies colliding, boots hitting canvas, the dull thud of practiced impacts. A towel lay abandoned near the ropes where it had been tossed aside mid session, and a water bottle had rolled onto its side, slowly leaking onto the mat in a thin spreading line. The mirror reflected the scene back at them, two women marked by exertion and familiarity, standing in a room that knew them intimately. Despite the heat of the workout, the basement remained cool, the temperature carefully regulated to prevent fatigue from becoming carelessness. A ventilation system hummed softly overhead, its steady rhythm blending with the sound of their breathing. From somewhere above, faint and distant, came the muted noise of the house settling, a reminder that this intense private world existed beneath a polished and public one. There was an ease between Glory and Sophie that came only from shared history and repeated trust. The sparring session had not been gentle, but it had been precise, each move delivered with intent and restraint. Bruises would bloom later, inevitable and familiar, but neither woman showed any concern for them now. Their bodies bore the language of their profession openly, the stiffening muscles, the reddened skin, the small abrasions that would fade only to be replaced by new ones.
“Thanks for the workout, mate.” Glory says as she wipes some sweat from her brow with a towel. “You always do seem to test me to my limits and bring out the best in me.”
“Every coin has two sides. Every mountain has a valley. For every strength there is a weakness. Every up has a down.”
“That doesn’t sound like Sun Tzu.” Glory says with a smirk. Sophie shakes her head.
“That’s because it was LR Knost. The point is, Gloria, your strengths are my weaknesses. My strengths are your weaknesses. We are complimentary. Together we make a formidable duo. You represent the goodness that I am capable of…whereas I represent the inner darkness you always feared would emerge.”
“I love you, Sophie, truly I do,” Glory chuckles “but I could do without the philosophy lessons right now.”
“Is that so?” Sophie grins. “Did you really bring me all the way from Belfast just to help you prepare for a wrestling match against Kemal Yilmaz, an individual you already beat rather decisively once before?”
“Anything can happen.” Glory states. “Anyone can beat anyone else on any given day. I am not going to get caught sleeping on Yilmaz. He seems hell bent on submitting me. So I wanted to spar with someone who could match me in submissions.” She points at Sophie. “You are my equal in the ring in terms of technical expertise and submission wrestling.”
“It does bring pride to my heart to finally hear you say that.” Sophie shakes her head. “But believe me, your fear of Yilmaz ‘catching you’ on an off day are unfounded. I tested you and you passed with flying colors just like I knew you would, just I suspect YOU knew you would. So tell me, dear Gloria, what is your agenda? What is on your mind?”
“I have no agenda, Sophie.” Glory sighs out of frustration as she walks past Sophie and sits down on the mat. Sophie grins as she walks over and then joins her, sitting down next to The British Bombshell.
“Very well. You leave me no choice.”
“What?”
“Face it…sister,” she smirks “you still fear the darkness, the corruption that twisted you once before taking hold of you once again. So while yes, you did wish to take advantage of my wrestling skills to help you prepare for this match against Mr. Yilmaz, your underlying agenda is that you wanted to pick the brain of the Yin to your Yang, the darkness to your light.”
“Bloody hell…” Glory chuckles “...fine, I admit that I am a little nervous. When I spent a few months back home, in London, living a far more simplistic lifestyle, it really got me back in touch with my roots. It reminded me of who I am and why I wanted to do this job. It reminded me that right and wrong are not arbitrary, they are not subjective, and that right IS worth fighting for.”
“You always did have a strong moral compass.” Sophie states. “That annoyed me to no end, once upon a time.”
“And those months being back home helped me to relax. It helped me realize that I do not need to take everything so bloody serious…”
“Ah yes, the jovial prankster Glory. I remember her quite well from our childhood.” Sophie shakes her head. “You never did prank me.”
“I was afraid of how you’d react.” Glory smirks. She pauses and sighs. “But Sophie, after that time back home, living a simplistic life, it made me feel like MYSELF again, not like the fake, the fraud that this luxurious lifestyle created.”
“A fraud? A fake?” Sophie arches a brow out of curiosity. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Obviously you were not listening closely to the words of LR Knost. The two sides to every coin, it doesn’t just refer to you and I, dear sister. It means each of us are capable of good and bad, right and wrong. No one individual is a flat one dimensional character. We all have multiple layers to our personalities. I once thought like you, that I WAS one dimensional, that I was ONLY capable of darkness. It took me quite a long time to realize the flaw in my thinking. Only recently did I finally accept that I am capable of being good, of being just as heroic as you.” Sophie chuckles softly. “You wish to believe that the period when you displayed ruthlessness, arrogance, and your own darkness was due to corruption; you blame it on this life of luxury, you even blamed it on your association with one Aphrodite Noel, but you are wrong.” She shakes her head. “That capacity for darkness always existed within you. That version of Glory Braddock always existed. The trick is learning how to control that darkness.”
“You think I can control it?” Glory asks.
“I am learning how to control mine, it isn’t easy but I am managing. I am quite certain that you will control it, because you are and always have been stronger than me. And you do not need a bloody chief of staff to help you.”
“It just makes more sense.” Glory remarks. “Sure, maybe I always had the potential to be that monster, but you cannot deny that certain outside influences nudged me in that direction. If I had someone in place to keep me AWAY from those outside influences, that would help.”
“Your logic is sound.” Sophie admits with a nod of her head. “I am simply saying that you do not need it. Furthermore, you may be creating yet another crutch you will have to lean on for support rather than learn how to manage it by yourself.”
“Its easy for you to say, mate. I have witnessed what my own dark side is capable of and, honestly? I am afraid of it.”
“Yes, you are correct, it is easy for me to say because I have lived my darkness all my life. There is nothing it can do to frighten me. Believe me, Gloria, you ARE stronger than you give yourself credit for. There is no need to fear your inner darkness. You CAN control it.”
==========
February 7th, 2026
Miami, Florida
On Camera
==========
The basement workout area had grown quieter as the evening settled in, its earlier intensity softened into something almost reflective. The lights were dimmed slightly now, no longer blazing with the same purposeful brightness they had during sparring. The ring stood empty and still at the center of the room, its ropes slack with rest, the canvas marked by impressions that would fade by morning. The air felt cooler, cleaner, carrying only a faint trace of sweat and rubber, as if the room itself were slowly exhaling after the work it had witnessed. Glory Braddock remained there alone, occupying the space in a very different way than she had earlier. She had shed her training gear and with it the aggressive readiness that came from physical combat. In its place was something more subdued, more personal. She wore a loose fitted long sleeve royal purple top, the fabric worn thin in a way that spoke of comfort rather than neglect. The shirt draped naturally over her frame. Her jeans were dark and practical, sitting low on her hips and fitting comfortably through the legs. On her feet were simple white sneakers.
She stood near the mirrored wall, though she was not looking directly at her reflection. Instead, her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the familiar outlines of equipment and memory. One hand rested absently at her side while the other hooked a thumb into her pocket, her posture relaxed but never careless. Even at rest, there was a sense of weight to her presence, a solidity that came from years of discipline and responsibility.
“I am not very pleased right now.” Glory shakes her head. “Not even going to try to hide it. I am a competitor at heart. I want to get in the ring and take on the very best in this business. I want to prove myself against the very best in the world. So do you really think I would be happy about sitting on the sidelines and having to watch everyone else compete at A Taste of Things To Come? So much happened that night I would have killed to have been involved with. Shot of Adrenaline? Two of the semi-finalists, Kimmy and Dexter, throughout most of the tournament didn’t even want to be a part of it. Yet they were semi-finalists. But someone like me? The British Bombshell? A woman who prides herself of being one of the best wrestlers in the world today? A former two time Adrenaline Champion in my own right? I would have LOVED to have been a part of that tournament. And a big congratulations to Deanna Frost for managing to run the gauntlet and win the whole thing without taking even one loss.” Braddock chuckles lightly.
“Then there’s the SCW World Championship. Congratulations to Syren for ending a desperate, broken down Cinderella’s World Title run.” Braddock shakes her head. “You think you have everyone fooled but not me. You may have won that title on your own but you have NOT changed. You are still the same corrupt, awful human being you always have been. You are a snake in the grass and I look forward to the day I finally earn my next shot at the SCW World Championship and I can be the one to expose you as the fraud that you are and END your reign.”
“La Pequina Luz retained the United States Championship. Colleen retained the Television Title. We have new World Tag Team Champions. So much went down at A Taste of Things To Come but me? Nothing.” The British Bombshell shakes her head. “I don’t like sitting on the sidelines watching opportunities pass me by, watching championship opportunities handed out like candy. Last year I promised that I would EARN a world championship rematch the old fashioned way, by beating anyone SCW puts in front of me, and I did just that. I promised that I would do so again if necessary. I promised I would go another tear, going through the roster again to earn a title match, and I will, because I don’t need to beg for a title match, I don’t need to whine until I get a title match. I EARN title matches by defeating the very best this company has to offer.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.
“Which brings me to YOU, Kemal Yilmaz.” She smirks knowingly. “I want opportunities, but you want something too; you want a piece of The British Bombshell. You seem obsessed with getting your hands on yours truly. You know what? I admire that kind of fighting spirit. We are a lot alike in that respects. I want to fight the very best and so do you. You want to take on the best and YOU KNOW, you HAVE TO KNOW, that you will be facing the very best in the world by taking me on. You want to test your submission skills against the best submission wrestler in this company. That takes guts, Kemal, so fair play to you.” Braddock nods her head.
“I admire that you are willing to step up and call your shot, Kemal; I admire that you don’t want to take the easy way, that you don’t want to take shortcuts, I admire that you want to prove yourself by wrestling only the best and let’s face it, you can’t find many out there better than me, a former Supreme Champion. That’s what makes us alike, mate, we want to test ourselves, we want to take on the best. So yes, there is some respect, but make no mistake about it my European Fiery Friend, we have been here before. We have had this dance before. Believe me, Kemal, this dance will end in the exact same way it ended the last time.” Glory nods her head.
“Do you remember? In case you forgot let me enlighten you and everyone else who may have forgotten what happened in our very first encounter. It was May 8th of 2025, you and I went to war and it ended with me putting you in Shekhinah Glory. It ended with me choking you out. It ended with you passed out on the mat and me standing tall announced as the winner. You see, mate, you already had your shot at The British Bombshell and you couldn’t get the job done. In fairness, you never tapped out, so I’ll give you that, and I’ll give you credit for coming back for more despite me choking you unconscious in front of the whole damn world. Most would slink away in embarrassment not wanting another taste of that kind of humiliation. But you want to redeem yourself. You still want to fight with me. You still want this grand submission war against the best to do it. Lucky for you, I am not known for backing down from any challenge. Lucky for you, I really do want to fight my way back into championship contention and proving to the powers that be that yours truly deserves an opportunity at gold, whatever gold that may be.”
“So if it’s a fight you want, Yilmaz, you got one. It will be you and me in Atlanta at the State Farm Arena and I will do to you what I did to you back in May…I will lock in the Shekhinah Glory and you will once again have that same choice I gave you back then…you can either tap out or get choked out. Those are your ONLY options when you go face to face with Glory Braddock. So congratulations are in store for you too, Kemal. Your entire reason for being thus far has been to go one on one with The British Bombshell and now you get to do it not just once but for a second time. Your goal has been achieved. But I have goals too and my goals go beyond just one wrestling match. I have goals to get championship gold back around my waist and right now you are just ONE obstacle standing between me and my goals. So in Atlanta we will clash again and AGAIN I will put your lights out with Shekhinah Glory. Then you will be in my rearview mirror as I continue to advance forward along my path to being champion again.” Braddock shuts her eyes.
“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”
======
==========
February 7th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
==========
The private workout area beneath Glory Braddock’s Miami home felt cut off from the rest of the house. The basement ceiling was higher than expected, reinforced with exposed beams that gave the space an industrial honesty, as if this room had never pretended to be anything other than what it was. The lighting was bright but warm, set into recessed fixtures that eliminated shadows without making the room feel clinical. One wall was mirrored from floor to ceiling, streaked faintly with the marks of hands and shoulders that had brushed against it over time. Another wall was lined with shelves holding neatly organized equipment, resistance bands, taped wrists guards, water bottles, towels; the air carried the unmistakable smell of effort, sweat mixed with rubber mats and the faint metallic tang of iron. At the center of the room stood a wrestling ring scaled slightly smaller than regulation size but no less serious. The canvas was worn and scuffed, its surface bearing the subtle discolorations that came from years of hard landings and repeated drills. The ropes were taut, wrapped in clean white tape that contrasted sharply with the darker padding on the turnbuckles. The mat beneath the ring extended outward in all directions, thick and forgiving, evidence that this was a place designed not just for performance but for survival.
Glory leaned forward near one corner of the ring, hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath. Her long blonde hair had come loose during the session and now hung in damp strands around her face and down her back, clinging slightly to her skin. She wore a black sports tank that was darkened with sweat along the collar and spine, paired with compression shorts that allowed full movement without distraction. Her boots were unlaced now, the tongues folded outward, and her wrists were still taped, the white wrap smudged and fraying from repeated contact. There was a solid heaviness to her stance even in rest, the kind that came from years of training and instinctively knowing where her weight belonged. Her shoulders rose and fell steadily as her breathing slowed, muscles still taut as though they had not yet received permission to relax. Across from her, Sophie O’Brian stood upright, rolling one shoulder slowly as she stretched it out. She was Glory’s half-sister and mirror in some ways and her opposite in others. Her dark brunette hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that had loosened over the course of the match, strands escaping to frame her face and stick to her neck. She wore a deep green athletic top that clung to her torso, the fabric creased and damp, paired with black leggings that showed faint chalk marks from the mat. Her boots were a different style than Glory’s, more streamlined, with thinner soles that suggested speed over power. The tape around her hands was darker with sweat, molded to her knuckles like a second skin.
The space between them carried the quiet aftermath of controlled violence. The echoes of movement still seemed to hang in the air, the memory of bodies colliding, boots hitting canvas, the dull thud of practiced impacts. A towel lay abandoned near the ropes where it had been tossed aside mid session, and a water bottle had rolled onto its side, slowly leaking onto the mat in a thin spreading line. The mirror reflected the scene back at them, two women marked by exertion and familiarity, standing in a room that knew them intimately. Despite the heat of the workout, the basement remained cool, the temperature carefully regulated to prevent fatigue from becoming carelessness. A ventilation system hummed softly overhead, its steady rhythm blending with the sound of their breathing. From somewhere above, faint and distant, came the muted noise of the house settling, a reminder that this intense private world existed beneath a polished and public one. There was an ease between Glory and Sophie that came only from shared history and repeated trust. The sparring session had not been gentle, but it had been precise, each move delivered with intent and restraint. Bruises would bloom later, inevitable and familiar, but neither woman showed any concern for them now. Their bodies bore the language of their profession openly, the stiffening muscles, the reddened skin, the small abrasions that would fade only to be replaced by new ones.
“Thanks for the workout, mate.” Glory says as she wipes some sweat from her brow with a towel. “You always do seem to test me to my limits and bring out the best in me.”
“Every coin has two sides. Every mountain has a valley. For every strength there is a weakness. Every up has a down.”
“That doesn’t sound like Sun Tzu.” Glory says with a smirk. Sophie shakes her head.
“That’s because it was LR Knost. The point is, Gloria, your strengths are my weaknesses. My strengths are your weaknesses. We are complimentary. Together we make a formidable duo. You represent the goodness that I am capable of…whereas I represent the inner darkness you always feared would emerge.”
“I love you, Sophie, truly I do,” Glory chuckles “but I could do without the philosophy lessons right now.”
“Is that so?” Sophie grins. “Did you really bring me all the way from Belfast just to help you prepare for a wrestling match against Kemal Yilmaz, an individual you already beat rather decisively once before?”
“Anything can happen.” Glory states. “Anyone can beat anyone else on any given day. I am not going to get caught sleeping on Yilmaz. He seems hell bent on submitting me. So I wanted to spar with someone who could match me in submissions.” She points at Sophie. “You are my equal in the ring in terms of technical expertise and submission wrestling.”
“It does bring pride to my heart to finally hear you say that.” Sophie shakes her head. “But believe me, your fear of Yilmaz ‘catching you’ on an off day are unfounded. I tested you and you passed with flying colors just like I knew you would, just I suspect YOU knew you would. So tell me, dear Gloria, what is your agenda? What is on your mind?”
“I have no agenda, Sophie.” Glory sighs out of frustration as she walks past Sophie and sits down on the mat. Sophie grins as she walks over and then joins her, sitting down next to The British Bombshell.
“Very well. You leave me no choice.”
“What?”
“Face it…sister,” she smirks “you still fear the darkness, the corruption that twisted you once before taking hold of you once again. So while yes, you did wish to take advantage of my wrestling skills to help you prepare for this match against Mr. Yilmaz, your underlying agenda is that you wanted to pick the brain of the Yin to your Yang, the darkness to your light.”
“Bloody hell…” Glory chuckles “...fine, I admit that I am a little nervous. When I spent a few months back home, in London, living a far more simplistic lifestyle, it really got me back in touch with my roots. It reminded me of who I am and why I wanted to do this job. It reminded me that right and wrong are not arbitrary, they are not subjective, and that right IS worth fighting for.”
“You always did have a strong moral compass.” Sophie states. “That annoyed me to no end, once upon a time.”
“And those months being back home helped me to relax. It helped me realize that I do not need to take everything so bloody serious…”
“Ah yes, the jovial prankster Glory. I remember her quite well from our childhood.” Sophie shakes her head. “You never did prank me.”
“I was afraid of how you’d react.” Glory smirks. She pauses and sighs. “But Sophie, after that time back home, living a simplistic life, it made me feel like MYSELF again, not like the fake, the fraud that this luxurious lifestyle created.”
“A fraud? A fake?” Sophie arches a brow out of curiosity. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Obviously you were not listening closely to the words of LR Knost. The two sides to every coin, it doesn’t just refer to you and I, dear sister. It means each of us are capable of good and bad, right and wrong. No one individual is a flat one dimensional character. We all have multiple layers to our personalities. I once thought like you, that I WAS one dimensional, that I was ONLY capable of darkness. It took me quite a long time to realize the flaw in my thinking. Only recently did I finally accept that I am capable of being good, of being just as heroic as you.” Sophie chuckles softly. “You wish to believe that the period when you displayed ruthlessness, arrogance, and your own darkness was due to corruption; you blame it on this life of luxury, you even blamed it on your association with one Aphrodite Noel, but you are wrong.” She shakes her head. “That capacity for darkness always existed within you. That version of Glory Braddock always existed. The trick is learning how to control that darkness.”
“You think I can control it?” Glory asks.
“I am learning how to control mine, it isn’t easy but I am managing. I am quite certain that you will control it, because you are and always have been stronger than me. And you do not need a bloody chief of staff to help you.”
“It just makes more sense.” Glory remarks. “Sure, maybe I always had the potential to be that monster, but you cannot deny that certain outside influences nudged me in that direction. If I had someone in place to keep me AWAY from those outside influences, that would help.”
“Your logic is sound.” Sophie admits with a nod of her head. “I am simply saying that you do not need it. Furthermore, you may be creating yet another crutch you will have to lean on for support rather than learn how to manage it by yourself.”
“Its easy for you to say, mate. I have witnessed what my own dark side is capable of and, honestly? I am afraid of it.”
“Yes, you are correct, it is easy for me to say because I have lived my darkness all my life. There is nothing it can do to frighten me. Believe me, Gloria, you ARE stronger than you give yourself credit for. There is no need to fear your inner darkness. You CAN control it.”
==========
February 7th, 2026
Miami, Florida
On Camera
==========
The basement workout area had grown quieter as the evening settled in, its earlier intensity softened into something almost reflective. The lights were dimmed slightly now, no longer blazing with the same purposeful brightness they had during sparring. The ring stood empty and still at the center of the room, its ropes slack with rest, the canvas marked by impressions that would fade by morning. The air felt cooler, cleaner, carrying only a faint trace of sweat and rubber, as if the room itself were slowly exhaling after the work it had witnessed. Glory Braddock remained there alone, occupying the space in a very different way than she had earlier. She had shed her training gear and with it the aggressive readiness that came from physical combat. In its place was something more subdued, more personal. She wore a loose fitted long sleeve royal purple top, the fabric worn thin in a way that spoke of comfort rather than neglect. The shirt draped naturally over her frame. Her jeans were dark and practical, sitting low on her hips and fitting comfortably through the legs. On her feet were simple white sneakers.
She stood near the mirrored wall, though she was not looking directly at her reflection. Instead, her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the familiar outlines of equipment and memory. One hand rested absently at her side while the other hooked a thumb into her pocket, her posture relaxed but never careless. Even at rest, there was a sense of weight to her presence, a solidity that came from years of discipline and responsibility.
“I am not very pleased right now.” Glory shakes her head. “Not even going to try to hide it. I am a competitor at heart. I want to get in the ring and take on the very best in this business. I want to prove myself against the very best in the world. So do you really think I would be happy about sitting on the sidelines and having to watch everyone else compete at A Taste of Things To Come? So much happened that night I would have killed to have been involved with. Shot of Adrenaline? Two of the semi-finalists, Kimmy and Dexter, throughout most of the tournament didn’t even want to be a part of it. Yet they were semi-finalists. But someone like me? The British Bombshell? A woman who prides herself of being one of the best wrestlers in the world today? A former two time Adrenaline Champion in my own right? I would have LOVED to have been a part of that tournament. And a big congratulations to Deanna Frost for managing to run the gauntlet and win the whole thing without taking even one loss.” Braddock chuckles lightly.
“Then there’s the SCW World Championship. Congratulations to Syren for ending a desperate, broken down Cinderella’s World Title run.” Braddock shakes her head. “You think you have everyone fooled but not me. You may have won that title on your own but you have NOT changed. You are still the same corrupt, awful human being you always have been. You are a snake in the grass and I look forward to the day I finally earn my next shot at the SCW World Championship and I can be the one to expose you as the fraud that you are and END your reign.”
“La Pequina Luz retained the United States Championship. Colleen retained the Television Title. We have new World Tag Team Champions. So much went down at A Taste of Things To Come but me? Nothing.” The British Bombshell shakes her head. “I don’t like sitting on the sidelines watching opportunities pass me by, watching championship opportunities handed out like candy. Last year I promised that I would EARN a world championship rematch the old fashioned way, by beating anyone SCW puts in front of me, and I did just that. I promised that I would do so again if necessary. I promised I would go another tear, going through the roster again to earn a title match, and I will, because I don’t need to beg for a title match, I don’t need to whine until I get a title match. I EARN title matches by defeating the very best this company has to offer.” Braddock points a finger at the camera.
“Which brings me to YOU, Kemal Yilmaz.” She smirks knowingly. “I want opportunities, but you want something too; you want a piece of The British Bombshell. You seem obsessed with getting your hands on yours truly. You know what? I admire that kind of fighting spirit. We are a lot alike in that respects. I want to fight the very best and so do you. You want to take on the best and YOU KNOW, you HAVE TO KNOW, that you will be facing the very best in the world by taking me on. You want to test your submission skills against the best submission wrestler in this company. That takes guts, Kemal, so fair play to you.” Braddock nods her head.
“I admire that you are willing to step up and call your shot, Kemal; I admire that you don’t want to take the easy way, that you don’t want to take shortcuts, I admire that you want to prove yourself by wrestling only the best and let’s face it, you can’t find many out there better than me, a former Supreme Champion. That’s what makes us alike, mate, we want to test ourselves, we want to take on the best. So yes, there is some respect, but make no mistake about it my European Fiery Friend, we have been here before. We have had this dance before. Believe me, Kemal, this dance will end in the exact same way it ended the last time.” Glory nods her head.
“Do you remember? In case you forgot let me enlighten you and everyone else who may have forgotten what happened in our very first encounter. It was May 8th of 2025, you and I went to war and it ended with me putting you in Shekhinah Glory. It ended with me choking you out. It ended with you passed out on the mat and me standing tall announced as the winner. You see, mate, you already had your shot at The British Bombshell and you couldn’t get the job done. In fairness, you never tapped out, so I’ll give you that, and I’ll give you credit for coming back for more despite me choking you unconscious in front of the whole damn world. Most would slink away in embarrassment not wanting another taste of that kind of humiliation. But you want to redeem yourself. You still want to fight with me. You still want this grand submission war against the best to do it. Lucky for you, I am not known for backing down from any challenge. Lucky for you, I really do want to fight my way back into championship contention and proving to the powers that be that yours truly deserves an opportunity at gold, whatever gold that may be.”
“So if it’s a fight you want, Yilmaz, you got one. It will be you and me in Atlanta at the State Farm Arena and I will do to you what I did to you back in May…I will lock in the Shekhinah Glory and you will once again have that same choice I gave you back then…you can either tap out or get choked out. Those are your ONLY options when you go face to face with Glory Braddock. So congratulations are in store for you too, Kemal. Your entire reason for being thus far has been to go one on one with The British Bombshell and now you get to do it not just once but for a second time. Your goal has been achieved. But I have goals too and my goals go beyond just one wrestling match. I have goals to get championship gold back around my waist and right now you are just ONE obstacle standing between me and my goals. So in Atlanta we will clash again and AGAIN I will put your lights out with Shekhinah Glory. Then you will be in my rearview mirror as I continue to advance forward along my path to being champion again.” Braddock shuts her eyes.
“Sic Semper Tyrannis.”
![[Image: qyA5u6K.png]](https://i.imgur.com/qyA5u6K.png)
SCW World Champion 1x
SCW United States Champion 1x
SCW Adrenaline Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
SCW Underground Champion 1x
SCW World Tag Team Champion 1x (w/Brittany Lohan)
Supreme Champion
2019 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Regan Street & Kellen Jeffries)
2020 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Ace Marshall & David Helms)
SCW Adrenaline Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
SCW Underground Champion 1x
SCW World Tag Team Champion 1x (w/Brittany Lohan)
Supreme Champion
2019 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Regan Street & Kellen Jeffries)
2020 Trios Tournament Winner (w/ Ace Marshall & David Helms)