Aim and Ignite
May 12, 2016 17:37:45 GMT -5
Post by Lou on May 12, 2016 17:37:45 GMT -5
Times they are a-changin’!
I was never well liked, so the animosity now is nothing new to me. It bothers me now though. The fans’ approval...others’ approval of me, it matters. More importantly, Luke’s opinion of me matters. I know that’s probably shocking, but after all we’ve been through, I really do want us to develop into one of the most unforgettable tag teams in history. Unfortunately, some personal obstacles apparently still stand in our way.
He doesn’t trust me. Who could blame him? He hasn’t said so. He continues to voice his confidence in me. I see the doubt in his eyes. The uncertainty. I’ve done an awful lot to plant that skepticism in his heart. It’s going to take an awful lot to remove it.
But we have a title match to focus on, and an opportunity to build upon what we’ve started here. I’m confident in our ability to compete at the highest level, and I know Luke feels the same way. The Rising Circus poses a legitimate threat to our reign and to our legacy.
I still like our chances.
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First Academy of Grappling
Oberhausen, Germany
5/11/2016
The scent of baby powder and gym socks fills the air as we fade in on the training center for a pair of once-great German tag team wrestlers by the mildly insensitive names of Colonel Von Hatred and Captain Auschwitz. It’s a small complex in the center of the city of Oberhausen, hidden in the shadows of the CentrO shopping mall and König Pilsener Arena.
The duo, formerly known as Hate Personified, are physically shells of their former selves. Both in their late 40s, they are still clinging to their glory days. As a result, the students they train at the First Academy of Grappling have learned to prepare themselves for random outbursts of unpredictably brutal assaults. Fortunately--or unfortunately, that type of professional physical abuse isn’t really okay--the Academy does a wonderful job churning out phenomenal talents who have already begun to make their presence felt on the independent circuit.
Today is a different day for the Colonel and Captain, however, as they have a visitor they haven’t seen in years: Ricky Valero.
“Jesus Christ, do my eyes deceive me?” spews Col. Von Hatred in a thick German accent midway through a snapmare takedown on a young male student. The Colonel smirks as the man, perhaps in his early 20s, hits the mat.
“Indeed they do,” Ricky declares. He hops up to the apron of the ring and wipes his feet.
Over in the corner of the ring, The Captain leans against the turnbuckle with sunglasses over his eyes. He lifts them atop his gray-haired head. He can’t believe his eyes. “Look what the fucking cat dragged in!”
Dressed in a gray t-shirt, baggy black sweats and a fresh pair of Nike training sneakers, he slips between the ropes and into the ring. “Live and in color!” He shares niceties with the two old friends, shaking their hands.
But The Colonel eyes him up and down with a skeptical look. “I know I told you to drop in whenever you want, but I assumed you would never actually come unannounced. What are you here for, BJ?” Just as he asks this question, he spots a young blond in the background while peering over Ricky’s shoulder.
“You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“I just like to remind you of that awful gimmick whenever I have the chance,” The Colonel responds with a snicker.
Ricky just shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge his time wrestling for Rising Sun Wrestling under the name ‘Black Jack’. Instead, he turns toward his guest with a smile.
“This is my protégé, Jessica Sears,” Ricky starts. “I’ve been training her for two years now, but I think she could benefit from your help. She has a big match upcoming.”
Jessica steps forward and politely bows her head. “Hallo. It’s nice to meet you, Colonel, Captain.” The petite German girl smiles. “I’m scheduled for a First Blood Match this Monday in Chicago for Redemption.”
The Colonel smirks. You could just sense him in his head, licking his chops and rubbing his hands together like someone just dropped a juicy steak dinner in front of him.
“And I could use some work, too actually,” Ricky adds. “I have a huge match coming up with some gold on the line. I have been on a bit of a losing streak...think you can help me?”
“The blond, we can help,” The Captain suddenly interjects. “But you...it’s going to be hard to fix a 16-year losing streak, Rick.”
Jessica giggles slightly while Ricky rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”
“Well,” The Colonel motions for Jessica to enter the ring. “Let’s see what she’s got!”
Happily obliging, Ricky sits down on the middle rope and holds it open so she can join them in the ring. Jessica hops onto the ring apron and smiles at Ricky before she enters the ring through the middle and bottom ropes. She moves into a defensive stance, the same stance of the “Strong Style Saint” Jaime Alejandro.
“I’m ready!” She says.
In the background, we see Ricky’s...I guess we’ll just call her a friend, for now...Mayu Ito, and their good friend “The Harlequin” Melissa Ramsey. Both have come along to enjoy the trip and provide support for their friends.
The Colonel sizes Jessica up with an evil grin on his face. He slowly starts to circle the ring, stopping only to place his hand on the one male student remaining in the ring. “Training’s over, son. Get out of my ring now.” The student nods his head and quickly exits the ring, leaving The Colonel to return his attention to the 5-foot-5, blonde standing in the center of his ring.
“They’ll let anyone wrestle these days, won’t they?” He literally spits on the mat. “When me and Auschwitz were running things, wenches like you couldn’t get near a ring unless you were on the arm of a champion. But now? Now they let you compete with the men. They allow you to call yourselves ‘Heavyweight’ Champions. How despicable.”
From the sidelines you hear a loud scoff from Melissa as she stands to approach the ring. “Size ain’t everything, big boy. Trust me.”
The Colonel peers out from the ring and stares directly at Melissa. “Your friend’s right. THAT’S why BJ brought you here,” he says, once again shooting a sly grin Ricky’s way. “You’re a midget playing in a giant’s yard. The only way you’re going to get out alive is to know how to use that giant’s size against him. And then pound his fucking head into the mat until he stops breathing.”
Melissa leans on the mat with a sinister smile. “Ooh, I like the way you think. See, Jess, you could learn a thing or two. I’d pay attention. Personally I--” Behind her, Mayu pats a hand against her shoulder.
“Do not make me have to call Beck… Back up, please.” Her eyes drift down to Melissa stomach then up. “ You know how he worries with you around wrestling rings.” Mayu tugs her friend away.
“Yes, Preggers, please get your paws off my ring and keep your mouth shut,” The Captain mutters and receives a middle finger.
“Jesus…” Ricky gasps as he runs his hand across his face and drops down off the mat to try and position himself between Mel and the ring.
“Hey! Be nice to my friend.” Jessica huffs in the Captain’s direction and refocuses her defensive stance. “The wrestling industry has evolved. You need to respect that.”
“How cute,” The Colonel says. Suddenly, he shoots a swift kick toward Jessica’s gut, but she manages to dodge it, keeping focused and on her feet. Unfortunately, she’s forgotten The Captain for a moment, and that lands her a swift club to the back of the head that drops her to her knees.
“The industry may have ‘evolved’ as you say, but the game is still the same. Isn’t that right, Ricky?”
“By any means necessary. Take no punches. Take no bullshit. Do everything you have to do to win. That’s the only way I’ve ever known,” Ricky agrees.
“And that’s why you’ve accomplished all you have, BJ. Ruthless aggression. You’re a heartless son of a bitch with one thing and one thing only in mind,” he smirks. “Victory.”
That statement settles deep in Ricky’s gut. Nearly 16 years of competing in the ring, and for the first time in his life, he actually felt like he’s playing the game the right way. The clean way. Learning to adapt and continue to be as successful as he had been before had become the tricky part for him.
Jessica takes in a quick breath and suddenly jumps onto her feet. She readjusts her defensive stance and grins. “C’mon!”
Ricky watches as the training continues inside the ring from ringside with his chin planted atop the apron. While he still enjoyed his time inside the ring, his success with the Valero Fight Club, training up-and-coming wrestlers, had become such a pleasing experience for him. He was heavily invested in the success of Jessica and his other students. That’s why today was so important. This moment with her training with two individuals he trusted would help her improve...he was putting all his energy into making it all work.
And then suddenly, he collapses to the ground.
.
.
.
Minutes later, Ricky rests on the hardwood floor with his head leaned back against the concrete wall. His right index finger and thumb are pressed into his temples and his eyes are shut firmly as he groans.
“It’s just these damn migraines I’ve been having,” he says. “They’ve really been kicking my ass lately.”
At his side are Jessica and Melissa, each with concerned looks on their faces. Standing in front of him is Colonel Von Hatred with an amused look on his face.
“I always knew you were a pussy, BJ.”
“Piss off,” Ricky responds with a chuckle. He turns toward Mel. “Where’s Mayu?”
“Oh, you know she saw you collapse, called you 'dramatic' and walked out.” She continues before he can respond, though his facial expression makes her chuckle, “She went to get you some water.”
Right on cue, Mayu hurries back into the room with a water bottle and cloth in hand. Kneeling down besides him, she dumps some water onto the washcloth wetting her pants some, handing the bottle to Ricky shakily. Her hand presses the cool rag to the back of his neck and he can feel her shaking. “Y-you should really watch it, dummy.” Mayu forces laughter.
There’s a gaze of deep thought on Jessica’s face. She’s seen this before, once upon a time. She closes her eyes, a violent shudder going through her body, and she slowly opens her eyes again. “...migraines…?”
He nods slowly. “I never used to have them, but I’ve been having these horrible migraines for like, four months or so now? They’re getting worse. I guess I should get them checked out.” He kinda laughs it off, instead focusing on Mayu’s lovely face in front of him. She gives him a smile before muttering something about having migraine medicine. As she leaves, Melissa reaches over to punch Ricky in the shoulder.
“Ricky, sweetheart, would you please stop being a bitch and bite the bullet already? I was all for the ‘giving her time’ and whatever… Now? It’s time to either move forward or move on. Those side glances, flirty tweets and trip to Italy are cute… but c’mon. You two obviously still love each other. What’s the hold up? Are you waiting for someone else to take her so you can fight for her? Or are you waiting to fuck up again? It’s annoying at this point.”
Ricky is caught off guard by Mel’s blunt interrogation, but he shouldn’t be. Anyone who knows Mel knows she doesn’t play any games. Her words sting, but it’s because he knows every single one of them was true. Still with the cool washrag pressed against his forehead, he’s speechless at this moment. “What?”
Jessica presses her lips together in a thin line. There’s a soft glint in her eyes as she sighs and offers him a weak, warm smile. “Come on, Ricky-sama… Time heals all wounds. I’m sure you and Mayu are ready to get back together again. Follow your heart. If your heart leads to her… Go for it.” Slowly she rises to her feet, leaning against the wall with a far-away look on her face.
Melissa shakes her head giving his shoulder another hit. Their conversation ends there when Mayu comes back in and offers Ricky two small pills. Ricky smiles at her as he takes the pills from her gentle fingertips. He can feel the heat coming from Jessica and Mel as they stare at him from both sides.
“Thank you,” he mutters.
He tips his head back and tosses the pills down, following it with a big sip of water from his bottle. Slowly, we fade to black.
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(rec)
We fade in on the smiling, confident face of Ricky Valero, one half of the reigning FGA World Tag Team Champions. After a strong start to his FGA career, Ricky has dropped two straight singles contests, and the disappointment has taken an evident toll as he seems more focused than ever before standing before the camera.
“Be careful what you wish for, my friends. We all think we know what we want until we’re actually faced with the opportunity to capture it. Then, suddenly, our knees get weak. We lose focus. And we get knocked firmly on our backsides. It’s easy to claim you have great aspirations, but when it’s demanded of you that you step onto the tracks and take a train head-on, more often than not the average individual shits her drawers and runs off with her tail between her legs.
That’s what happens when you step into the ring with Luke Jackson and Ricky Valero. You talk a big game. You say all the right things and hit all the right buttons during the week. You’ve got the look. You’ve got the attitude. But you don’t have enough heart. Not enough heart to outlast us inside that ring. Because when that bell sounds, there is not a team in the world better than us. This piece of gold right here...this is proof of that.”
Ricky lifts his half of the FGA World Tag Team Championships to the camera with conviction.
“We’ve already overcome so much to get where we are today. But this is when the fun begins. Now the target is placed directly on our backs. Every Tom, Dick and Harry wants a piece of the action, and they’re going to bring us 110 percent and more to strip us of all we’ve earned. We're ready. We're prepared for a fight and welcome anyone to step up to the plate and take their best shot.
Our first challengers for these FGA World Tag Team Titles? The very team we beat to win them two short months ago: Rising Circus.”
Ricky cracks a smirk.
“Mistress Ai, Mr. Rottentreats, they know exactly what I’m talking about. They learned it the hard way. They had all that swagger. They had all that confidence. But in one fell swoop, everything they hoped for and everything they were banking on, we took it from them like it was always ours.
They thought this gold would define them, and in a way, it has. The absence of these belts around their waists is proof of their inferiority. They pale in comparison to Luke and myself, something nobody would’ve predicted heading into the Joker’s Wild Tag Team Tournament. It eats at them. You could see it in Rottentreats’ eyes. You could sense it in Ai’s voice. They WANT to be World Tag Champs, but that will never happen as long as Luke and myself are tag team partners, because there is not a team in the world better than we are right now.
This match is far more important to us than it is to them. The Joker’s Wild tournament was about silencing the critics. We accomplished that. We were more cohesive than any of our detractors could have imagined, and we disposed of every obstacle that stood in our path. This title match in Johnson City though, it’s a proving grounds. Were we a one-hit wonder? Was our success a fluke? Luke and I, we know the truth, but at Vertigo, it’s our job to prove it to everyone else who still doubts us. We’ve been on a bit of a rough stretch individually, and this is our chance to get back on track and remind everyone that we are to be taken seriously. We have no choice but to get into that arena and walk out with the belts still clamped firmly around our waists.
Ai and Rottentreats, they’re going to do everything they can to keep that from happening. Like I said, they WANT to be champions. But that’s where this gold ends for them. For me...for Luke...these tag team championships are like blood to us. Without them, we are nothing. We NEED these belts, and we’ll do everything it takes to ensure they come back home with us.”
Ricky pauses for a moment, shaking his head as his eyes travel to the floor. He scoffs.
“Don’t let the rumors fool you either. There seems to be this growing assumption, again, that there is some dissension between myself and Luke over what went down during the Gold Rush Rumble. Everyone has been doing their best to drive the wedge between us since it happened, and yet here we still are, united, cohesive, unstoppable. Nobody on this roster has the right to question my integrity, the way I handle business or the means by which I’ve had success in the past. We’re in the here and now, and while I’m not happy with how things went down for us at the Gold Rush Rumble, make no mistake about it, Luke and myself are stronger than ever. We’re closer than ever. Because for us, it’s not about all this drama that everyone wishes to stir up. For us, it’s about our legacy. It’s about leaving our imprint on the FGA forever and placing our names among the greatest wrestlers to ever grace this promotion’s ring.
Do we have our problems? You bet your ass we do. We deal with them everyday. But we are no worse than anyone else in that department. We’re certainly no worse than our opponents this Saturday.”
He chuckles.
“Mr. Rottentreats needs no introduction, at least when discussing what’s wrong with him. The list of what isn’t would be far shorter and even he would tell you that. To call him a joke would only be an ironic low blow at his physical appearance. The guy is far from it. He’s unpredictable. He’s a loose cannon capable of going off at any moment, and it would be foolish of Luke and myself to overlook him.
Meanwhile, Ai is the spawn of one of the most evil men in professional wrestling history. I experienced it firsthand. I saw the damage HAN did to the GFP, and I’m happy to see that our company has survived his overdue removal under a new banner. But that evil that HAN bears, Ai carries that within herself. I love the girl, but I know she could cut me in my sleep if she so pleased. Top that off with an unbelievably decorated professional career in Japan that has made her global phenomenon, and you have the second half of duo that is among the most formidable in the world, believe it or not.
But Luke and I, we get that. We knew these two were not to be taken lightly the first time around, and we know even better now. We’ve been studying the film. We’ve been training for the expected and unexpected.
So prepare yourselves, Ai, Rottentreats, because Round 2 isn’t going to be as friendly and civil as the first round was. You’re coming for our babies now, and we have all the ammo necessary to send you two back to the stone age. These World Tag Titles, they mean everything to us. Nobody will take them for us. Nobody will keep us from cementing ourselves as the all-time greats we know we are.
“Are you ready?”
Ricky shoots the camera a wink and a smirk, and we fade to black.
I was never well liked, so the animosity now is nothing new to me. It bothers me now though. The fans’ approval...others’ approval of me, it matters. More importantly, Luke’s opinion of me matters. I know that’s probably shocking, but after all we’ve been through, I really do want us to develop into one of the most unforgettable tag teams in history. Unfortunately, some personal obstacles apparently still stand in our way.
He doesn’t trust me. Who could blame him? He hasn’t said so. He continues to voice his confidence in me. I see the doubt in his eyes. The uncertainty. I’ve done an awful lot to plant that skepticism in his heart. It’s going to take an awful lot to remove it.
But we have a title match to focus on, and an opportunity to build upon what we’ve started here. I’m confident in our ability to compete at the highest level, and I know Luke feels the same way. The Rising Circus poses a legitimate threat to our reign and to our legacy.
I still like our chances.
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First Academy of Grappling
Oberhausen, Germany
5/11/2016
The scent of baby powder and gym socks fills the air as we fade in on the training center for a pair of once-great German tag team wrestlers by the mildly insensitive names of Colonel Von Hatred and Captain Auschwitz. It’s a small complex in the center of the city of Oberhausen, hidden in the shadows of the CentrO shopping mall and König Pilsener Arena.
The duo, formerly known as Hate Personified, are physically shells of their former selves. Both in their late 40s, they are still clinging to their glory days. As a result, the students they train at the First Academy of Grappling have learned to prepare themselves for random outbursts of unpredictably brutal assaults. Fortunately--or unfortunately, that type of professional physical abuse isn’t really okay--the Academy does a wonderful job churning out phenomenal talents who have already begun to make their presence felt on the independent circuit.
Today is a different day for the Colonel and Captain, however, as they have a visitor they haven’t seen in years: Ricky Valero.
“Jesus Christ, do my eyes deceive me?” spews Col. Von Hatred in a thick German accent midway through a snapmare takedown on a young male student. The Colonel smirks as the man, perhaps in his early 20s, hits the mat.
“Indeed they do,” Ricky declares. He hops up to the apron of the ring and wipes his feet.
Over in the corner of the ring, The Captain leans against the turnbuckle with sunglasses over his eyes. He lifts them atop his gray-haired head. He can’t believe his eyes. “Look what the fucking cat dragged in!”
Dressed in a gray t-shirt, baggy black sweats and a fresh pair of Nike training sneakers, he slips between the ropes and into the ring. “Live and in color!” He shares niceties with the two old friends, shaking their hands.
But The Colonel eyes him up and down with a skeptical look. “I know I told you to drop in whenever you want, but I assumed you would never actually come unannounced. What are you here for, BJ?” Just as he asks this question, he spots a young blond in the background while peering over Ricky’s shoulder.
“You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“I just like to remind you of that awful gimmick whenever I have the chance,” The Colonel responds with a snicker.
Ricky just shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge his time wrestling for Rising Sun Wrestling under the name ‘Black Jack’. Instead, he turns toward his guest with a smile.
“This is my protégé, Jessica Sears,” Ricky starts. “I’ve been training her for two years now, but I think she could benefit from your help. She has a big match upcoming.”
Jessica steps forward and politely bows her head. “Hallo. It’s nice to meet you, Colonel, Captain.” The petite German girl smiles. “I’m scheduled for a First Blood Match this Monday in Chicago for Redemption.”
The Colonel smirks. You could just sense him in his head, licking his chops and rubbing his hands together like someone just dropped a juicy steak dinner in front of him.
“And I could use some work, too actually,” Ricky adds. “I have a huge match coming up with some gold on the line. I have been on a bit of a losing streak...think you can help me?”
“The blond, we can help,” The Captain suddenly interjects. “But you...it’s going to be hard to fix a 16-year losing streak, Rick.”
Jessica giggles slightly while Ricky rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”
“Well,” The Colonel motions for Jessica to enter the ring. “Let’s see what she’s got!”
Happily obliging, Ricky sits down on the middle rope and holds it open so she can join them in the ring. Jessica hops onto the ring apron and smiles at Ricky before she enters the ring through the middle and bottom ropes. She moves into a defensive stance, the same stance of the “Strong Style Saint” Jaime Alejandro.
“I’m ready!” She says.
In the background, we see Ricky’s...I guess we’ll just call her a friend, for now...Mayu Ito, and their good friend “The Harlequin” Melissa Ramsey. Both have come along to enjoy the trip and provide support for their friends.
The Colonel sizes Jessica up with an evil grin on his face. He slowly starts to circle the ring, stopping only to place his hand on the one male student remaining in the ring. “Training’s over, son. Get out of my ring now.” The student nods his head and quickly exits the ring, leaving The Colonel to return his attention to the 5-foot-5, blonde standing in the center of his ring.
“They’ll let anyone wrestle these days, won’t they?” He literally spits on the mat. “When me and Auschwitz were running things, wenches like you couldn’t get near a ring unless you were on the arm of a champion. But now? Now they let you compete with the men. They allow you to call yourselves ‘Heavyweight’ Champions. How despicable.”
From the sidelines you hear a loud scoff from Melissa as she stands to approach the ring. “Size ain’t everything, big boy. Trust me.”
The Colonel peers out from the ring and stares directly at Melissa. “Your friend’s right. THAT’S why BJ brought you here,” he says, once again shooting a sly grin Ricky’s way. “You’re a midget playing in a giant’s yard. The only way you’re going to get out alive is to know how to use that giant’s size against him. And then pound his fucking head into the mat until he stops breathing.”
Melissa leans on the mat with a sinister smile. “Ooh, I like the way you think. See, Jess, you could learn a thing or two. I’d pay attention. Personally I--” Behind her, Mayu pats a hand against her shoulder.
“Do not make me have to call Beck… Back up, please.” Her eyes drift down to Melissa stomach then up. “ You know how he worries with you around wrestling rings.” Mayu tugs her friend away.
“Yes, Preggers, please get your paws off my ring and keep your mouth shut,” The Captain mutters and receives a middle finger.
“Jesus…” Ricky gasps as he runs his hand across his face and drops down off the mat to try and position himself between Mel and the ring.
“Hey! Be nice to my friend.” Jessica huffs in the Captain’s direction and refocuses her defensive stance. “The wrestling industry has evolved. You need to respect that.”
“How cute,” The Colonel says. Suddenly, he shoots a swift kick toward Jessica’s gut, but she manages to dodge it, keeping focused and on her feet. Unfortunately, she’s forgotten The Captain for a moment, and that lands her a swift club to the back of the head that drops her to her knees.
“The industry may have ‘evolved’ as you say, but the game is still the same. Isn’t that right, Ricky?”
“By any means necessary. Take no punches. Take no bullshit. Do everything you have to do to win. That’s the only way I’ve ever known,” Ricky agrees.
“And that’s why you’ve accomplished all you have, BJ. Ruthless aggression. You’re a heartless son of a bitch with one thing and one thing only in mind,” he smirks. “Victory.”
That statement settles deep in Ricky’s gut. Nearly 16 years of competing in the ring, and for the first time in his life, he actually felt like he’s playing the game the right way. The clean way. Learning to adapt and continue to be as successful as he had been before had become the tricky part for him.
Jessica takes in a quick breath and suddenly jumps onto her feet. She readjusts her defensive stance and grins. “C’mon!”
Ricky watches as the training continues inside the ring from ringside with his chin planted atop the apron. While he still enjoyed his time inside the ring, his success with the Valero Fight Club, training up-and-coming wrestlers, had become such a pleasing experience for him. He was heavily invested in the success of Jessica and his other students. That’s why today was so important. This moment with her training with two individuals he trusted would help her improve...he was putting all his energy into making it all work.
And then suddenly, he collapses to the ground.
.
.
.
Minutes later, Ricky rests on the hardwood floor with his head leaned back against the concrete wall. His right index finger and thumb are pressed into his temples and his eyes are shut firmly as he groans.
“It’s just these damn migraines I’ve been having,” he says. “They’ve really been kicking my ass lately.”
At his side are Jessica and Melissa, each with concerned looks on their faces. Standing in front of him is Colonel Von Hatred with an amused look on his face.
“I always knew you were a pussy, BJ.”
“Piss off,” Ricky responds with a chuckle. He turns toward Mel. “Where’s Mayu?”
“Oh, you know she saw you collapse, called you 'dramatic' and walked out.” She continues before he can respond, though his facial expression makes her chuckle, “She went to get you some water.”
Right on cue, Mayu hurries back into the room with a water bottle and cloth in hand. Kneeling down besides him, she dumps some water onto the washcloth wetting her pants some, handing the bottle to Ricky shakily. Her hand presses the cool rag to the back of his neck and he can feel her shaking. “Y-you should really watch it, dummy.” Mayu forces laughter.
There’s a gaze of deep thought on Jessica’s face. She’s seen this before, once upon a time. She closes her eyes, a violent shudder going through her body, and she slowly opens her eyes again. “...migraines…?”
He nods slowly. “I never used to have them, but I’ve been having these horrible migraines for like, four months or so now? They’re getting worse. I guess I should get them checked out.” He kinda laughs it off, instead focusing on Mayu’s lovely face in front of him. She gives him a smile before muttering something about having migraine medicine. As she leaves, Melissa reaches over to punch Ricky in the shoulder.
“Ricky, sweetheart, would you please stop being a bitch and bite the bullet already? I was all for the ‘giving her time’ and whatever… Now? It’s time to either move forward or move on. Those side glances, flirty tweets and trip to Italy are cute… but c’mon. You two obviously still love each other. What’s the hold up? Are you waiting for someone else to take her so you can fight for her? Or are you waiting to fuck up again? It’s annoying at this point.”
Ricky is caught off guard by Mel’s blunt interrogation, but he shouldn’t be. Anyone who knows Mel knows she doesn’t play any games. Her words sting, but it’s because he knows every single one of them was true. Still with the cool washrag pressed against his forehead, he’s speechless at this moment. “What?”
Jessica presses her lips together in a thin line. There’s a soft glint in her eyes as she sighs and offers him a weak, warm smile. “Come on, Ricky-sama… Time heals all wounds. I’m sure you and Mayu are ready to get back together again. Follow your heart. If your heart leads to her… Go for it.” Slowly she rises to her feet, leaning against the wall with a far-away look on her face.
Melissa shakes her head giving his shoulder another hit. Their conversation ends there when Mayu comes back in and offers Ricky two small pills. Ricky smiles at her as he takes the pills from her gentle fingertips. He can feel the heat coming from Jessica and Mel as they stare at him from both sides.
“Thank you,” he mutters.
He tips his head back and tosses the pills down, following it with a big sip of water from his bottle. Slowly, we fade to black.
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(rec)
We fade in on the smiling, confident face of Ricky Valero, one half of the reigning FGA World Tag Team Champions. After a strong start to his FGA career, Ricky has dropped two straight singles contests, and the disappointment has taken an evident toll as he seems more focused than ever before standing before the camera.
“Be careful what you wish for, my friends. We all think we know what we want until we’re actually faced with the opportunity to capture it. Then, suddenly, our knees get weak. We lose focus. And we get knocked firmly on our backsides. It’s easy to claim you have great aspirations, but when it’s demanded of you that you step onto the tracks and take a train head-on, more often than not the average individual shits her drawers and runs off with her tail between her legs.
That’s what happens when you step into the ring with Luke Jackson and Ricky Valero. You talk a big game. You say all the right things and hit all the right buttons during the week. You’ve got the look. You’ve got the attitude. But you don’t have enough heart. Not enough heart to outlast us inside that ring. Because when that bell sounds, there is not a team in the world better than us. This piece of gold right here...this is proof of that.”
Ricky lifts his half of the FGA World Tag Team Championships to the camera with conviction.
“We’ve already overcome so much to get where we are today. But this is when the fun begins. Now the target is placed directly on our backs. Every Tom, Dick and Harry wants a piece of the action, and they’re going to bring us 110 percent and more to strip us of all we’ve earned. We're ready. We're prepared for a fight and welcome anyone to step up to the plate and take their best shot.
Our first challengers for these FGA World Tag Team Titles? The very team we beat to win them two short months ago: Rising Circus.”
Ricky cracks a smirk.
“Mistress Ai, Mr. Rottentreats, they know exactly what I’m talking about. They learned it the hard way. They had all that swagger. They had all that confidence. But in one fell swoop, everything they hoped for and everything they were banking on, we took it from them like it was always ours.
They thought this gold would define them, and in a way, it has. The absence of these belts around their waists is proof of their inferiority. They pale in comparison to Luke and myself, something nobody would’ve predicted heading into the Joker’s Wild Tag Team Tournament. It eats at them. You could see it in Rottentreats’ eyes. You could sense it in Ai’s voice. They WANT to be World Tag Champs, but that will never happen as long as Luke and myself are tag team partners, because there is not a team in the world better than we are right now.
This match is far more important to us than it is to them. The Joker’s Wild tournament was about silencing the critics. We accomplished that. We were more cohesive than any of our detractors could have imagined, and we disposed of every obstacle that stood in our path. This title match in Johnson City though, it’s a proving grounds. Were we a one-hit wonder? Was our success a fluke? Luke and I, we know the truth, but at Vertigo, it’s our job to prove it to everyone else who still doubts us. We’ve been on a bit of a rough stretch individually, and this is our chance to get back on track and remind everyone that we are to be taken seriously. We have no choice but to get into that arena and walk out with the belts still clamped firmly around our waists.
Ai and Rottentreats, they’re going to do everything they can to keep that from happening. Like I said, they WANT to be champions. But that’s where this gold ends for them. For me...for Luke...these tag team championships are like blood to us. Without them, we are nothing. We NEED these belts, and we’ll do everything it takes to ensure they come back home with us.”
Ricky pauses for a moment, shaking his head as his eyes travel to the floor. He scoffs.
“Don’t let the rumors fool you either. There seems to be this growing assumption, again, that there is some dissension between myself and Luke over what went down during the Gold Rush Rumble. Everyone has been doing their best to drive the wedge between us since it happened, and yet here we still are, united, cohesive, unstoppable. Nobody on this roster has the right to question my integrity, the way I handle business or the means by which I’ve had success in the past. We’re in the here and now, and while I’m not happy with how things went down for us at the Gold Rush Rumble, make no mistake about it, Luke and myself are stronger than ever. We’re closer than ever. Because for us, it’s not about all this drama that everyone wishes to stir up. For us, it’s about our legacy. It’s about leaving our imprint on the FGA forever and placing our names among the greatest wrestlers to ever grace this promotion’s ring.
Do we have our problems? You bet your ass we do. We deal with them everyday. But we are no worse than anyone else in that department. We’re certainly no worse than our opponents this Saturday.”
He chuckles.
“Mr. Rottentreats needs no introduction, at least when discussing what’s wrong with him. The list of what isn’t would be far shorter and even he would tell you that. To call him a joke would only be an ironic low blow at his physical appearance. The guy is far from it. He’s unpredictable. He’s a loose cannon capable of going off at any moment, and it would be foolish of Luke and myself to overlook him.
Meanwhile, Ai is the spawn of one of the most evil men in professional wrestling history. I experienced it firsthand. I saw the damage HAN did to the GFP, and I’m happy to see that our company has survived his overdue removal under a new banner. But that evil that HAN bears, Ai carries that within herself. I love the girl, but I know she could cut me in my sleep if she so pleased. Top that off with an unbelievably decorated professional career in Japan that has made her global phenomenon, and you have the second half of duo that is among the most formidable in the world, believe it or not.
But Luke and I, we get that. We knew these two were not to be taken lightly the first time around, and we know even better now. We’ve been studying the film. We’ve been training for the expected and unexpected.
So prepare yourselves, Ai, Rottentreats, because Round 2 isn’t going to be as friendly and civil as the first round was. You’re coming for our babies now, and we have all the ammo necessary to send you two back to the stone age. These World Tag Titles, they mean everything to us. Nobody will take them for us. Nobody will keep us from cementing ourselves as the all-time greats we know we are.
IT’S GAME TIME BABY!
“Are you ready?”
Ricky shoots the camera a wink and a smirk, and we fade to black.