Ricky Valero CD Post-4CW SnuffFest Round 2

[Lou]

Staples Center

Los Angeles, CA
07/25/2019

The backstage area inside Los Angeles’ Staples Center is abuzz following the captivatingly brutal matchup between Ricky Valero and Skull Kid 2 in the second round of the 4CW Snuff Fest deathmatch tournament. Already an entertaining evening, Valero and SK2 added their own wrinkle to the highlight reel, bringing the fans to their feet in dueling chants for each competitor. But in the end, only one competitor could come out victorious, and he did so in dramatic fashion.

“Who’s next?!” Valero quips as he emerges through the curtains to a round of applause from some of the present crew members.

Though he wears a menacing smirk, the limp in his step tells a different story. His body is covered in cuts and bruises from his first two matches in this hellacious tournament, his eye is still half shut, and he reeks of processed cheese. He clings to his ribs with his left hand and his fiance, Kekepania Lee, sprints up to him just as he’s searching for something to hold onto with his right.

“I did it,” he whispers with a smile as he falls into her arms.

“Yes you did Ku'uipo,” Keke’s soft bright voice calling him sweetheart in Hawaiian. “But you know you can do anything you put your mind to.” She pauses and gives him a tiny look, but he can’t see it, she’s standing too close. “Don’t know why it had to be this though.”

Valero winces again though and nearly crumbles to the floor. Keke’s teeth are clenched as her fiance has the deathgrip on her hand.

“Ricky,” she mutters.

He releases her hand when he realizes what he’s doing but collapses to the floor in the process, smacking his skull against the block wall behind him.

“Sorry,” he says while rubbing the back of his head.

The “Good Guy” gasps for air. He can’t stop clutching his ribs in pain and he’s becoming more and more frustrated with his inability to see out of one eye. Fortunately, a member of the staff recognizes his debilitated state.

“Mr. Valero,” he interjects. “It may not be a bad idea to go see the trainer. He’ll help you out.”

Keke’s crouched down with him, looking upset because she hadn’t been able to keep him from smacking his head on the wall when he dropped. He’s just too big, and while she’s in fantastic shape for a new mother - and also pregnant again, she just couldn’t hold him those extra seconds. She nibbles her lip, showing all her emotions on her face as she looks to the staff member.

“Okay, we’ll go, just where do we find the trainer? Do they have an EMT on site?” Despite keeping herself out of the industry, Keke did know a few things about how it worked due to her sister Vivian. She keeps her voice soft, even though there’s a tremble in her lips and worry in her eyes.

The staff member directs them where to go and Keke helps Ricky back to his feet. He smiles as his one open eye locks with hers and lets out a sigh of relief. Her gentle smile calms his nerves. Her touch eases the pain in his bones.

When they arrive at the trainer’s room, they’re met by a member of the medical staff who gets Ricky set up on a table. The female attending appears to be in her late 20s, deep olive toned, and seemingly a bodybuilder or something of the sort in her free time because she’s in better physical shape than even Ricky is. On the front pocket of her navy blue scrubs, he notices a name tag with “Dr. Jamie Tarr” engraved in white letters.

“Tough match out there,” she says while starting to check his vitals.

Ricky notices the television monitor in the corner of the office and chuckles.

“All that matters is the win,” he fires back with a smug grin.

“Eye still bothering you?” she asks.

“No, honey, I always look like Popeye. What do you think?”

“Ricky…” soft, not chiding but with that sweetness Keke uses to interject before Ricky can get outrageous.

“Okay, okay. No need for an attitude,” she laughs, shining her otoscope in Ricky’s other eye. “We’ll have to flush it out just to make sure there’s been no damage to your cornea or anything worse.”

“Worse?”

“We’ll check all our bases and make sure you don’t need better care at a local hospital. How’s that sound?”

“Fantastic,” he mutters.

As she grabs the blood pressure monitor, the trainer notices him favoring his ribs.

“What would you say your pain level is?” Dr. Tarr asks while continuing to write the monitor tightly around his arm.

He cringes as she forces his arm up and away from his chest. He breathes heavily.

“Come on. Your body took a beating out there. If you don’t tell me what you’re feeling, I can’t help you.”

“I guess,” he mumbles. It’s bad enough to be in this much agony right now. It’s worse to have to admit it. Keke steps a bit to the side to make sure she’s out of the way, but keeps her left hand on his wrist - so he can glance down and see it, the light sparkling off the ring he put there.

“On a scale from 1-10,” she continues.

He sighs. “I don’t know. A 2.”

Keke’s lips pursed to pouty, giving him a pointed look as she murmured. “That’s more than a hard 2, Ricky Valero…”

“Ricky, are you sure it’s just a 2?” Dr. Tarr adds.

“Yes, a 2. I said it’s a 2, it’s a 2.”

“Okay, if you say it’s a 2...it’s a 2. Just know, Mr. Valero, that while it’s something we would prefer to avoid, we do have permission to prescribe medication to assist with any pain needs if necessary. Your pain level would have to be higher than a 2, however.”

“I don’t need any medication,” he retorts with fire in his one open eye and bite in his words. “I suffer worse injuries in regular matches. This is a 2. So please, if we could just please flush out my eye and send me on my way…”

The pain in his ribs forces him to pause for a moment as he clenches his teeth. He squeezes the table beneath him so hard he leaves claw marks in the leather.

“If we could just flush out my eye, that would be great. We have a flight to catch.”

Keke can hear the creaking of the leather and she leans in. “I can wrap your ribs Ku'uipo.” soft, a whisper so that Dr. Tarr doesn’t hear her while she messes with getting the eye kit together. “You’re not burbling, so it’s probably just… just a strain or bruise.”

She’s not medically trained, Ricky would know this, beyond basic CPR and things they made tour guides learn at her old job. But she gives him a hopeful look, she’s trying to blunt his temper even if it hasn’t clicked why he had the outburst.

Dr. Tarr, meanwhile, is hesitant and still a little frozen where she stands after Ricky tore her a new one. But when Ricky’s smile for his beloved fiance fades to a scowl and a snarl, Dr. Tarr has no choice but to oblige to Ricky’s request. The Staples Center trainer instructs the “Good Guy” to lean forward on the table and another trainer enters the room to assist. Ricky takes Keke’s hand in his again and sits strenuously patient, battling through deep, punctuated gasps.

“Let’s get this over with.”