The Next Generation: Part 3

It’s morning again in SCW!

Sorry for borrowing that line, Mr. Reagan, but it seemed appropriate, all things considered, seeing as Tactical Warfare has concluded and order and peace has been restored to Supreme Championship Wrestling.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…

Sic Semper Tyrannis…thus always to tyrants…tyrants like Katya and Dork Fantasy were destined to fall.  Good always triumphs over evil.  It’s called karma and karma is a bitch.

Katya and Dork Fantasy losing wasn’t the only reason or my excitement.  I’m exceedingly happy that Sasha’s team was victorious, because it was Sasha who recognized my talent, she was the one who signed me to this SCW contract, she brought me on board. Now I get to show her that her trust in me was not in vain.

Katie Steward, I’m coming for you next.  And if you want to know what to expect, just ask Casterillo or Alistaire Allocco.  Both of them ran from me.

Hopefully you’ll have the guts to at least stand your ground.

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March 16^th, 2019

London, England

Off Camera

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It's a bar, but everyone is attempting to appear proper in their high end suits and attire.  The bar is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere. Conversations swirl in a dirty cloud of smoke, the stagnant stench of cigarettes hides within the collaboration of mephitic odors. A sharp smell of drink wafts towards a blonde haired beauty sitting in the corner; dressed in a black leather skirt, black high heeled strappy sandals, and a hot pink blouse.  It’s Glory Braddock, the British Bombshell.  The odor she smells is like black plumes bellowing from the windows of a burning house. There’s even a hint of sick tainting the fragrance of the room.

The smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles.  Braddock is still waiting on the arrival of her friend, Sophie O’Brian.  Seeing as the sociopathic Irishwoman hasn’t arrived yet, Glory decides to get some more beverage.  She raised a shaky finger to call the server and the bar-tender was there to take her order in a flash, eyes dropping only momentarily to her low-cut neckline.

“My eyes are up here, mate.” Glory motions with her hand and the bar tender looks up and blushes. “That’s a good boy.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Glory shakes her head. “Just fetch me a glass of water.”

“Will do.” The bar tender nods and walks off to fill the order.

Glory Braddock spends most of her days in her new home of Miami, Florida.  That, combined with her other duties as a professional athlete for both Supreme Championship Wrestling and Global Championship Wrestling have made it impossible for her to live in London, England and maintain her father’s wrestling school.

Someone has to maintain the school.  Someone has to keep it up and running; otherwise it will shut down and then who will teach the next generation of wrestlers?  Who will keep the Glenn Braddock legacy alive?

Luckily her good friend, Sophie O’Brian, agreed to run the school temporarily until a permanent replacement could be found.  Sophie is an ideal choice to run the school.  She is one of Glenn Braddock’s original students who, alongside Glory herself, graduated from this same wrestling school.  Sophie has a deep respect for the Braddock legacy.  Sophie would keep it alive and well.

“Looking for someone?”

Braddock is startled at first but quickly regains her composure as she looks up to find her friend, Sophie O’Brian, approaching the table.  The Irish Sociopath is wearing a knee length leather skirt, black pumps, and a teal blouse.  Her long black hair hangs unrestrained to shoulder length.  A sly grin spreads across Glory’s face.

“Took you long enough, Sophie.”

“Traffic was a bitch and Mark wouldn’t leave me alone.” Sophie answers as she finds a seat at the table with Glory.

“You speak as if Mark is your child.”

“Sometimes he acts that way.”

The server returns with Glory’s water, which he places in front of her.  Then the server turns to face Sophie.

“Bring me a Scotch.  On the rocks.”

“Right away.”

With that, the server walks away to fill the drink order.  Sophie turns back to face Glory with a grin on her face.

“At least I came, Glory.”

“True enough.”

“And at least I’ve been good enough to run your father’s wrestling school.”

“Right again.” Glory takes a sip of her water. “Speaking of which, how are things at the school?”

“The school is running like a well oiled machine, as they say.” Sophie remarks with a wink of her eye. “Trust me, mate, I have everything well under control.”

“Oh I trust you, Sophie.  It’s just that…” Braddock’s voice trails off.  The server returns with Sophie’s scotch.  Sophie takes the glass, tips the server and takes a sip.

“That school is your dad’s baby.  It’s your family legacy and you want to make sure it’s well taken care of.”

“Yeah.” Glory says meekly, nodding her head.

“Well you could run it yourself, if you’re that bloody worried about it.”

“And I told you that it’s impossible.” The British Bombshell shakes her head vehemently. “I already wrestle for SCW and GCW.  I have no time to devote to running that school.”

“Fair enough.” Sophie remarks, nodding her head. “But you could still drop in every now and then and show your support. I mean, it is YOUR school after all.”

“I’m sure you don’t need me.” Braddock shakes her head.

“Of course I don’t need you.  I have the wrestling knowledge to run that school myself.  But your presence means a lot to those students, Glory.  Your last name and your presence mean more than you could ever realize.”

“You give me too much credit, Sophie.” Glory takes another sip of her water and then sets the glass back down on the table. The gorgeous blonde shakes her head. “You give me far too much credit.”

“You’re too humble.  You have no idea how much those students look up to you.” Sophie rolls her eyes. “It’s disgusting, in a way.”

“Gee, thanks mate.” Glory says with a snicker.

“Seriously, though, you need to find out just how important your presence is to those young kids trying to learn this skill.  Why don’t you come by for a day?  Since you’re here in London anyway.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.” Glory sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “I have a full schedule coming up in SCW.”

“Like what?” Sophie folds her arms over her chest and frowns skeptically.

“Sasha’s Team won Tactical Warfare.  She’s in charge of SCW now and she has me booked against Katie Steward on the next Breakdown.”

“Which isn’t until the twenty-seventh.”

“Fine…” Glory sighs out of frustration and nods her head, relenting to Sophie’s request “…if it means that much to you then I’ll show up tomorrow.”

“It isn’t a matter of how much it means to me.  It’ll mean a hell of a lot to those kids I’m training.”

“Says you.”

“You’ll see the proof for yourself.” Sophie takes one final swig of her scotch.

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March 17^th, 2019

London, England

Off Camera

==========

We are met by the grunts and groans of a female who is hard at work, sticking and moving as she pounds away at a heavy bag dangling from the ceiling at a workout facility. This particular facility just so happens to be the Glenn Braddock Wrestling School.

The concrete floor is gray and the walls are painted an off-white color, at least the walls that still have paint on them, as most of the paint on the walls has begun to peel. There is a standard wrestling ring set up in the center, weights scattered all over the floor.  At one of the far ends of the room is a red heavy bag.  Sophie O’Brian, wearing a pair of purple sweatpants, white tennis shoes, and a white t-shirt with her long black hair pulled into a ponytail in the back, is lacing furiously into the bag with rights and lefts, and even a few kicks for good measure while some female students watch on and take mental notes.  Sophie’s brother, Mark O’Brian, is in the ring, working with a tall, lanky young man on some wrestling holds.

Standing not too far away, watching all of this from afar, is the owner of this school; Glory Braddock.  The blonde beauty has a wide smile of approval on her face as she watches on.  She likes what she sees from the next generation of wrestlers under the tutelage of Sophie O’Brian.

“I’ll be right back.” Sophie tells her female students before turning and walking away.  The Irish Sociopath makes her way over towards Glory.  A satisfied look is on Sophie’s face. “So, I take it you like what you saw?”

“I did.” Glory admits, nodding her head. “You and Mark are doing a hell of a job with them.  If anything, this proves that you and Mark don’t need me to be here.”

Sophie sighs out of frustration. “Still hanging onto that flawed logic, are you mate?”

“It’s not flawed logic.  It’s fact and the evidence is all around you.  You and Mark are molding some great young wrestlers.”

“Have it your way then.” Sophie says with a knowing grin.  Glory, for her part, isn’t quite sure what to make of that grin on Sophie’s face.  The Irish Sociopath then turns towards the ring and calls out to her brother.

“Mark!” Mark O’Brian and the tall lanky young man he was working with both turn to face Sophie. “Get your ass over here!  Bring Clyde!”

Braddock watches as Mark O’Brian exits the wrestling ring, followed by the tall lanky young man, whose name is apparently Clyde.  The British Bombshell is quite astonished at the size of the man as he approaches.  Or it could just be his build?  He is lanky yet built like a solid rock.  Mark and Clyde stop right next to Sophie who motions to Clyde.

“Clyde, I’d like you to meet my best mate and the owner of this fine school, Glory Braddock.”

“Nice to meet you, Clyde.”

“Clyde Sutter.” The young man answers with a respectful yet stoic look on his face. “It is an honor to meet you, Ms. Braddock, you are a legend are here.”

“I like the respect.” She shakes her head. “But I’m hardly a legend.

“You’re wrong, Ms. Braddock.” Clyde retorts. “What you do means a great deal to me and everyone else here at this school.”

Glory reluctantly nods her head. “Yeah, thanks, Clyde.”

“Mark, why don’t you take Clyde and continue to work on sparring?”

“Sure.”

With that, Mark and Clyde walk away, leaving Sophie and Glory alone.  Sophie turns to face Glory and smirks knowingly.

“Clyde is damn near ready to make his debut.”

“How old is he?” Glory asks inquisitively.

“Hard to say.  Twenties, at least.  He keeps a lot of secrets, though, and that’s the one thing I don’t like about him.”

“Secrets?” Glory arches a brow out of curiosity. “What kinds of secrets?”

“Who says I know?”

“I know you better than anyone else, mate.” Glory retorts, placing her hands on her hips and staring down her friend.  “If you wanted to know, you would find out.  Am I right?”

Sophie sighs and nods her head. “You’re right, of course.  Clyde was orphaned at an early age.  His parents were too young and too crazy to bother caring about a child so they abandoned him.  From the best of my knowledge he’s been bouncing from place to place, wherever and whoever will grant him a place to stay.  Now he’s here, hoping that professional wrestling will provide him with an avenue to make something of himself.”

“Interesting.” Glory smirks knowingly. “That reminds me of two people I know…”

“I know, it’s the story of me and Mark all over again.  That’s why I was going to gently let him know he wasn’t welcome anymore.”

“What?!” Glory exclaims. “Why would you do that?!  What has he done wrong?”

“Nothing, yet.” Sophie shakes her head. “But trust me, I know all about people like Clyde because I was once in his situation.  We’re broken, Glory, and no one can fix us.”

“My father did a pretty damn good job of fixing you.”

“Did he?” Sophie asks. “Can you honestly say that Mark and I turned out as model citizens?”

“Maybe you didn’t, but you’re different.  You’re…”

“A sociopath?” Sophie suggests, finishing Glory’s sentence for her.

“You said it, mate.  Not me.”

“Well it’s the truth.” Sophie states matter of fact. “And I sense a lot of that same sociopathic tendency in Clyde.”

“You don’t know that.” Glory answers, shaking her head. “How can you possibly know that?  We should give the kid a chance.  Everyone deserves a chance.”

“Listen to yourself, mate!” Sophie exclaims. “You’re willing to take a chance on this kid when Mark and I both agree that he is dangerous.”

“Yeah, I am willing to take a chance on him.” Glory answers, nodding her head. “Just like daddy took a chance on you and Mark.”

“Fair enough.” Sophie nods her head reluctantly. “You do own this place, I just run it for you.  I’ll let him stay, against my better judgment.”

The Irish Sociopath turns and casts a gaze into the ring at Mark and Clyde sparring. “I just hope I’m wrong about him.”

“You will be proven wrong.” Glory remarks as she walks over and wraps an arm around Sophie’s shoulder. “Fact is that everyone, regardless of their station in life, good or bad or indifferent, everyone wants to be treated according to the golden rule.”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you?” Sophie answers, rolling her eyes.  Glory responds by nodding her head.

“You treat that young man with the same respect that you’d give any of these other students and trust me, he’ll turn out ok. I can see it in his eyes, I can see into his soul; he just wants a chance to make something of himself, just like you and Mark wanted a chance.”

“Therein lies your one great flaw, Glory.” Sophie says with a note of disappointment in her voice. “You’re just too damned trusting.”

“Says the woman who doesn’t trust anyone.” Glory says with a snicker.

“True enough, but I’m far better off by not trusting anyone than you are by just giving anyone and everyone a chance.  You trusted that Van Stanton fellow enough to hire him as president of Global Championship Wrestling and what happened?”

“Hostile takeover…”

“That’s right, you lost the company to him.  You trusted Aphrodite Noel and what happened to your sister?  Oh, that’s right, you HAVE no sister anymore.”

“Sophie…” Glory’s voice trails off.

“Hell, it’s risky business for you to trust me to run this wrestling school, but you’re desperate and you know that I respect your father too damn much to ruin this place and ruin his legacy.” Sophie sighs and shakes her head. “I’m just trying to protect you from making another mistake.”

“I know that my judgment hasn’t always been sound, but most of the time my judgment has been proven solid.  People are capable of good, Sophie.  Everyone is capable of good.  It’s the human condition that causes us to make mistakes, to sometimes choose the wrong path.”

The British Bombshell points to the ring at Clyde and Mark still sparring. “Clyde very well could prove to be a dirty rotten scoundrel like you said, mate. But it won’t be because he’s inherently evil.  It’ll be because he made the wrong decisions.”

“And yet you still want me and Mark to give him the tools necessary to make him a deadly weapon, despite the fact that you know that he could easily go down the path of darkness just as he could go down the path of righteousness?”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Glory remarks.  “Clyde has a right to learn just like anyone else.”

“Just remember that your father gave both of us the same skill set.  Your father gave both of us the same weapons.  You used them to become the best wrestler in the world.  Me?” Sophie snickers nastily. “I used them to destroy people’s lives.”

“Not everyone is like you, Sophie.  And life isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.” Glory answers back. “Give Clyde a chance.  That’s my final statement on the matter.”

“Right, I’ll let him stay.” Sophie answers with a nod of her head.  “But there is one other matter we should discuss.”

“What’s that?”

“Melinda.”

“Mel?” Glory asks quizzically, referring to her daughter, Melinda Braddock.  Sophie nods her head. “What about my daughter?”

“She’s been bugging me lately.  She wants to know what it takes to be a wrestler.  To be perfectly honest, I think she wants to follow in your footsteps.”

“Well she’s not going to.” Glory states definitively.

“Wow, you didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

“I don’t need to hear any explanation.  I can easily see where this is going and you are not to train my daughter.  Is that clear?”

“So I can train this big boy over there,” she motions to Clyde “despite the fact that he could be a dangerous sociopath, but your daughter, who is as good as gold, I can’t train.  Am I right?”

“If you want to put it that way, fine.” Glory sighs with frustration. “Just do not train her.  This sport is just…” Braddock shakes her head “…it’s just too dangerous for her.”

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On Camera

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Call me naïve, call me an optimistic dreamer, but I do believe in miracles.  I believe anything is possible if you set your mind to it.  But there is a limit to my belief.  I do not believe in fairy tales, I do not believe in Queens or Goddesses, and no, Katie Steward, I do not believe in you.

This isn’t Mother Goose and Grimm, and not everyone lives happily ever after.    Those are fantasies, those are fairy tales, and they are fake, much like your claim to goddess status is fake and fraudulent.  Just because you say something is true doesn’t make it true.  You have to make it real by proving it week in and week out on the proving grounds of the squared circle.

And that’s why so many of my peers call me The Best in the World.  It isn’t because I just decided it was a catchy title, the way you apparently thought it sounded catchy and hip to call yourself a Goddess or a Queen.  People call me the best because I have beaten the best.  That’s reality, Katie.  Not a fairy tale, not a fantasy, but REALITY…

…reality, it’s a frightening place for people like you.  People like you would rather live in the fantasy land where you are a goddess or a queen, just like some people would rather live in a fantasy land where they are better than everyone else.

Fantasies do not last forever, Katie.  They are temporary.  Just like dreams, you are destined to wake up from them eventually.  And if you don’t wake up from those dreams, that just means you’re dead.  Retribution was a wake up call to many with fantasies and delusions.  Now you will wake up from your fantasy on Breakdown when I introduce you to the harsh reality that goddesses and queens do not exist.

Just fighters. Warriors.  And I’m not going to be arrogant and say that I am THE best warrior in the land, but I can tell you that I was trained by the best. I have all of the tools and knowledge necessary to get me through any fight with anyone.  And there is nothing you can do to make me quit, nothing you can do to make me give up.

Reality is that on my debut in SCW, I took the challenge of Alistaire Allocco, a former WORLD CHAMPION, and he ran away with his tail tucked between his legs.  Reality is that Casterillo, another big mouth with the maturity level of a child, ran away with his tail tucked between his legs when he realized he couldn’t keep up with me.

Allocco, a big mouth who thinks he’s god’s gift to wrestling.  Casterillo, a big mouth who thought he was a bad ass, both of whom ran away from me.

Now I face you, another big mouth who thinks she’s something special.  You think you’re a goddess.  The reality is that you’re no more a goddess than I am Barbara Streisand.  So it’s time for you to wake up and face reality.  And your reality is that you have a choice to make…

…you can either tap out or you can pass out.  Either way is fine by me.