Deja Vu

[El Dragón]

The Spanish Countryside
Badajoz, Extremadura, Spain
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A purple Lamborghini effortlessly glided through the open road, leaving everything in its wake doused in a storm of dust. Inside the trusty and very expensive steed was the AXN World Heavyweight Champion, a man hailed by the Kingdom as a conquering hero, a man known as the Venomous Virtuoso, El Guapo, Julian Tijerina. With one hand on the wheel and the other on a phone to his ear, Julian's eyes were fixed on the distant horizon. Wherever he was going, he looked like he wanted to get there fast. There was no missing this beat.

"Yes," the woman on the other end continued to explain. "You will be debuting in FGA against another newcomer. Her name is Erin Gordon and she—-"

She got cut off by a confused Julian, "She?"

"Yes, she," the woman was left unfazed. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Julian's perfectly maintained eyebrows crashed against each other, furrowing at an unpleasant thought. He sighed, not amused.

"This feels like deja vu," he whispered to no one but himself.

But it wasn't low enough to not be heard on the other end, "What do you mean?"

"Do you still remember how I, we, debuted at AXN?" Julian posed a question he did not need to wait an answer for. "It was also against a female competitor. Do you remember how that feud ended?"

The woman on the other end did not hesitate to answer, "You ended her career at AXN?"

Julian grinned, though his mind is still not at ease.

"But before that, I lost so much," he quietly shared. "In the end, I won the war, but the battles took a lot of toll on me. The first time we clashed, I came out wrong. It was my greatest downfall. What if it happens again?"

A thick blanket of silence covered them both regardless of distance. The uncertainty in Julian's voice was not easily overcome. The woman tried her best to think of ways to placate him, to inspire his soul. She knew that it would not be easy. It has never been easy. The man was right. For all his victories, their victories, their beginning has never been good. They started horribly but this was not the end.

"It won't," the words slithered out of her mouth before she could think them through. "And if it does, what's the worst that could happen? You win gold at the expense of your soul? Your soul has seen better days."

———

Port of Vigo
Vigo, Pontevedra, Galicia
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It didn't take long for Julian to arrive at his destination. Sure, the traffic wasn't great, but he was driving a lamborghini. Everyone lets a Lamborghini go first. At least that was true tonight. He wished it was true every night.

Julian parked his car next to a private yacht. He had one of these but nothing German in make. It was a pretty stoic acquisition, all white and huge and cold. Gracefully, he made his way out of his car, careful not to slam the door on his way out. He fixed his suit, purple and white, mostly white, just as white as the intimidating vessel before him. Well, intimidating in the general sense. Julian hasn't been intimidated for quite a while. His ego and greed wouldn't allow it.

"Ahoy out there," yelled out a familiar face.

Despite his supposed welcoming intention, the blonde man wearing round glasses didn't look as welcoming as he'd probably hoped. On top of the yacht, he seemed cold and calm, steely eyes providing no information as to how he was really feeling. If Julian didn't know any better, he'd have assumed this man was not a man but a machine. He smirked to himself as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Come on, Karsten," Julian did not yell but instead spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard. "You really need to work on your impersonation of a human being."

Karsten Greiser let out a chuckle, or at least something resembling a chuckle, as Julian made his way up the stairs and right in front of him. The Spanish Sweetheart did not hesitate in giving his old friend a hug, a tight one, as the German Genius just stood there like a complete robot. He tried to hug Julian back but ended up patting his head.

Julian pulled away and grinned, "How are you, old friend?"

"I am well," came Karsten's dry reply, the driest Julian has ever been exposed to.

You'd think he was used to his old friend's attitude, but every now and then, it surprises him how that wasn't true.

"Glad to hear that," Julian laughed to himself, patting Karsten's shoulder. He puts both hands on his hips and looked out into the sea. "Nice yacht."

Karsten tilted his head to one side before reverting it back to its original position. He shifted his gaze from Julian to the sea as well, "Hasn't it always been? I've kept it at optimal efficiency, no room for any shortcoming when it comes to my ship."

"Of course," Julian nodded fervently, thinking to himself how extravagant buying a ship would be.

Karsten went on a lot of sea travel, so it wasn't as extravagant for him. From Germany to Spain to Italy to wherever else he fancied, be it in the middle of nowhere, the man couldn't stay out of the waters for too long. Compared to him, however, Julian preferred his feet on the ground, on God's green Earth, where the ladies are. There's not a lot of them in the sea, but there sure is plenty of fish.

Julian turned back to Karsten, "How's Enzo?"

Enzo Mazzaro was the third man in their trinity. While Karsten was the smart one and Julian took the role of the charmer, Enzo was all about physicality whether it was going on athletic pursuits or pummeling those who opposed him in the ring. Karsten, on the opposite end of the spectrum, took on a strategist point-of-view inside the squared circle. Julian himself had more time, and made more time, being flamboyant. Enzo cared neither for tactics nor artistry. The man just wanted to beat his opponents and get the win.

Karsten turned to him with a raised eyebrow, "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Between you and me, you're the one who's better at keeping in touch."

"Yeah," Julian chuckled. "Though we need to fix that, amigo. You can't be all alone forever."

Karsten sighed, clearly failing to realize the playful banter in the form of a hard truth, "Yes, well, I try."

The German gestured for Julian to finally enter the yacht. The Spaniard wasted no time in doing so, preferring the warmth over the night cold. Everything was illuminated inside Karsten's makeshift den. With a few exceptions, like the porthole of a window that showcases the majesty of the night sky and the cold sea mingling outside, the room defied the expectation of the stereotypical insides of a navy vessel. If anything, it looked more like one of those old timey dens fathers in the 18th century (or maybe older?) used to hide in from their families.

A ship in a bottle quickly caught Julian's eyes. He instinctively approached it and had only an inch separating his fingers from the glass surface when Karsten calmly called out to him, "Please be careful with that. I'd rather not have it broken."

Julian smirked, shook his head, and pivoted gracefully to face his closest friend, "I am very careful, you know."

"I know," came the reply without any hesitation. "You're second to me when it comes to being careful."

"And Enzo's the careless one?" Julian cut Karsten off.

Karsten just stared at him, not denying or agreeing to anything. In his heart, Julian knew he could do nothing else but agree to that statement. In all the years of their friendship, Enzo has not failed to drag them both in more trouble than what they were worth.

Julian walked closer towards a small shelf filled with books and started reading the titles over their spines, "He's leading a, for a lack of a better term, pack of friends in a promotion down south."

"More rebellious antics," Karsten rolled his eyes. "I wonder how long that will last. He's never been one to follow, which should be a prerequisite to lead. Those friends must really want to be in a stable with him."

Julian laughed, which made Karsten smile, "Yeah, I remember that's what Aurelie used to say about him..."

They both went quiet. Both men were flooded with nostalgia of a bygone era, of the long stretch of time in their respective histories when they were under the same stable, a family, with both Enzo and the High Queen Aurelie Tremaux. Their de facto leader, Aurelie, was unlike any other competitor they've ever encountered. Even without speaking, she could effortlessly get her message, her point, across. She was beautiful but she never had to resort to using that as a weapon. She could, and she would win the war even before it could start.

"She hasn't called me either," the words slithered out of Karsten's mouth without much effort.

Julian just stared at him, unsure of whether it was a slip, a first if it were, in which his words escaped his mind's filter or if he was just being as unfiltered as ever. It felt like it was the former. Karsten has never been one to share his feelings, at least not his more private feelings brought on by sensitivity, and this one sounded like it was loaded with a lot of sad feelings.

"Anyway," Julian continued to cut the awkwardness in the air. "I will be debuting in a new promotion—-"

Karsten, his back turned to his friend while preparing two mugs of lager, cut Julian off, "FGA... So I heard. It's a great place. Filled with talented competitors. You'll shine there."

The German turned around and offered Julian one of the mugs. Julian spent a few seconds just staring at it, debating on whether he should take the offer. His last encounter with a lager didn't exactly go well. Let's just say he got so wasted, he regretted the entire day the next day. But that was at a party. This was on his own with an old friend. Maybe nothing will go wrong? He did have to drive all the way back to Badajoz, though. Then again, this was exactly what Maria was for. One call and she could come up with a plan to get his drunk butt home. It wouldn't be that bad. Just one mug.

"Yeah," he took a small sip of the German beer and felt all his insides wince with him. "My debut will be against another newcomer, Erin Gordon."

The name immediately froze Karsten into place. Truth be told, he knew no one by that name. It was the association of the name that made him feel strange. Karsten stared deep into Julian's eyes, violating the very notion of personal space. He was trying to figure out whether the Venomous Virtuoso was kidding. If he was, it was a terrible joke. He didn't seem like he was joking, which in itself was still no welcomed respite.

"Erin's a girl's name," came the unfiltered response as Karsten took his own sip of the lager, his neutral expression never breaking.

Julian chuckled, shaking his head at the blatant twist of fate, "Yes, yes, Erin's a girl's name..."

Karsten took a moment of silence before responding, this time double-checking his words, "Do you remember the last time you debuted against a girl?"

Julian scowled. Memories of that exact moment rushed his mind like a barrage of bullets in slow motion. He could feel every contact they made on his skin, though only mentally. He remembered every single time he took to the skies, every single time she took to the skies, every time he was taken out of the sky, crashing and burning to the mat, every time he had to look her in the eye and see Maria and hate himself and feel his body, his anger, his totality betraying his very existence, the things he said he stood for.

"I do. I remember everything about it," Julian swallowed air, placing the mug of lager on top of a circular table near him. It housed a spherical steel thing he didn't know what. Karsten eyed the table with utmost concern. The Spaniard ignored his own curiosity and continued, "It's exactly why I'm having terrible feelings about this debut. The first time this exact scenario was laid out in front of me, I had to do things I would never want to do again. I won that war but the cost was too high and the losses were too painful to be satiated by the eventual victory."

Karsten took another sip of his lager. Julian noticed the mug was now only half-full. It didn't seem to have any effect on the German, however. Karsten's facial expression still remained on neutral.

"You know it doesn't matter, right?" Karsten stared him in his eyes dead-on. "It shouldn't matter."

"What? What do you mean?"

Karsten took one more sip of his lager and the mug looked more empty than full, "It doesn't matter if it's a male competitor or a female competitor. They're all in that ring to compete, to fight. When it comes down to it, we all need to take down every single one of our opposition if we want to get what we want."

Julian heaved a sigh as he walked outside the sanctuary that was Karsten's makeshift den. The night air welcomed him with a cool blanket from the sea, making the Spaniard smile the widest since earlier this day. Karsten made his way out of the room as well, and together, with Julian walking first, the pair made their way down into solid ground once again.

"Nice Lamborghini," Karsten unexpectedly said.

Julian flashed his friend a grin as he took his keys and opened the door, "I could say the same about your yacht."

"No, my friend," Karsten replied, responding with a modest grin. "My yacht isn't nice. It's glorious."

They both laughed. It has been a long time since these old friends laughed together. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to realize Julian laughed a lot while Karsten was more private with his enjoyments. They were two opposite sides of the coin yet they would always find a way to see eye to eye. It was their friendship. It was how they've been able to foster the feeling throughout the years, despite the distance and the long stretches of silence. It helped that they took to each other as brothers, not by blood but by choice.

"You should visit more often," Julian smirked as he gracefully entered his vehicle.

Karsten wouldn't let him have the last word, "You should make your way up north when you can."

Inside the car, Julian laughed, making sure Karsten saw it. He honked his horn to say goodbye. In response, Karsten waved his hand. Julian turned his car around while Karsten made his way back onto his yacht. It would be another long while before they'd see each other again. Thankfully, they both took enough from the meeting to make it through a few more years of no contact. It was their way of life. It was their friendship. Nothing, not even the dissolution of their once-dominant stable, could change any of that.

———

The Spanish Countryside
Badajoz, Extremadura, Spain
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The drive home was quiet. Julian played an album by Childish Gambino. It was the rapper-comedian's latest album, but Julian didn't really care much about rap to put any emphasis on that. Julian wasn't that big on rap, despite the fact that he prides himself on being more cultured than the average man. Maybe it was because of the strange way he got hung-up on the more violent and lustful side of rap. Maybe it was because of the hard-to-explain way he ignores the side of rap that was mostly just honest emotions and the love for the melody. It wasn't even his CD, to be honest. It was a gift from this girl he met online, who won't stop chatting with him despite the implications he would send her, excuses. She was relentless and a part of him actually loved that.

"Relentless..." he murmured to himself.

His thoughts soon wandered to that debut in question, when he first appeared on another promotion with Maria. He was cocky, arrogant, and pretty much disgusting. He believed he was the best there was, a gift to that promotion, which wasn't really far off yet if he had learned anything from that experience, it's that just because it's the truth doesn't mean you have to rub it in everyone's faces.

That debut was met with much fanfare. People were curious. People loved him. He responded to their love by Superkick-ing a camera man, and it soon became apparent that this handsome devil wasn't a hero but another demon sent to make their lives a living hell. The first person who opposed him, who made it her mission to teach him a lesson, was a deranged clown. It became a war of worlds, of opposites: Julian stood as a handsome villain while that woman bit at the camera like a strange-looking anti-hero of sorts. With Julian, you could see the beauty of temptation. With the other person, all you could see was chaos that served to free everyone from the illusions of the elite.

Their first match ended up badly for Julian. He not only lost the pay-per-view match, he also lost Maria. He didn't seem that affected, however, at least not until Maria showed signs of succumbing to the deranged clown's influence. From there, Julian tried to "rescue" Maria and the battles became more absurd, more supernatural, more dangerous. In the end, Julian persevered, thanks primarily to his better attitude. Maria would choose to leave his side, however, returning only after a few months of rehab. It wasn't a happy victory for him. Not where it should've mattered.

Julian scowled as the memories started to die down. In his mind, he could feel everything, every pain, every suffering. But as the negativity started winding down, the Spanish Sweetheart stumbled upon a realization, a silver lining, the bright side of all that tragedy. That experience, that war, did pave the way for him to be twice the champion in that promotion. He won his first championship beating the same deranged clown in the ring, sending her out of the promotion, never to be seen again. Almost immediately after losing that title a few months later, Julian regained a bigger title, the world championship in that promotion. He has seen his fair share of losses but every time he bounced back, he bounced back with better blessings.

Julian grinned as he felt determined that his debut will be just as "beautiful."

———

Tijerina Residence
Badajoz, Extremadura, Spain
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Maria stood on the second landing of the massive stairs of the Tijerina Residence, looking out into the night through the giant window that showed her a purple Lamborghini entering the yard. She was wearing only a pink nightgown and a very seductive grin. The Spanish Spitfire quickly made her way to the bedroom as the car vanished into the parking lot, where she could no longer see anything.

Maria was already on the bed sleeping when Julian entered the room. He quickly but gracefully undressed himself, slithering into bed next to Maria, wearing nothing else but his underwear. The scent of him stirred his redhead companion who, with a smile, moved around to face him. They stared into each other's eyes longingly, relishing in their embrace. Maria tucked a stray hair behind Julian's ear.

Mouthing his feelings for her, and immediately after, with Maria nodding her head in agreement, Julian kissed her passionately. She kissed him back with the same fire he felt inside him. Effortlessly, their bodies became one, joined together by the same passion that inspired them every single day of their lives.

"This time," Julian subconsciously thought to himself as he showered Maria with kisses. "I won't lose. Not the match. Not Maria."

Everything was dark, with only the moon illuminating the room. Everything was quiet, with only the two lovers stirring in the silent comfort of the night. Everything was going to be all right, if not better. In the morning, they will make sure of that, both of them working together to realize the dream they've always shared with each other. If anything else, things will only get more guapo.

FGA better be ready. Erin Gordon better be ready. The Spanish Sweetheart, the Venomous Virtuoso, El Guapo, is coming home, and he's not going to be an easy prey for anyone.