Smith Young vs. Diego de la Vega

[Russ]

1 roleplay per person and a 2,000 word limit. Good luck!

Deadline is Saturday June 30th at the following times...

GMT - 23:59
North Australia - 09:29 (Next Day)
West Australia - 07:59 (Next Day)
CST - 17:59
EST - 18:59
PST - 15:59

[Chris Shields]

(Smith Young walks through the hallways of the Luxor Casino Arena, dressed in a simple navy suit, white shirt, and yellow tie. The SCW crew is busy taking down all of the Experts banners, signs, and promo material while slapping the SCW stuff back up there including a promotional poster one of his soon to be opponents, Adrien Specter. For now though, he did not want to think about that, he only wished to vacate the arena, the hotel, the city, and the entire state for that matter. Luckily for him, he could fly back to his beloved Utah in a relatively short matter of time. However his exodus from the decadent metropolis was delayed as he ran right into Becki Sugar-tits and a nearby cameraman.)

SY: You there, are you affiliated with the Experts?

Becki: Seriously, I interviewed you like yesterday?

SY: Not you harlot, the camera man.

Cameraman: Uhm.

SY: Are you an employee of the Experts?

Cameraman: Uhm.

SY: Are you paid by the Experts or SCW to work the camera?

Cameraman: Experts.

SY: Splendid, begin recording.

(Smith turns and goes over to a blank white wall making sure that Becki is out of focus.)

SY: Hello, my name is Smith Young. At this time I would like to address my match with one Keaton Saint. In this match, the referee counted the one, two, three for mister Saint, but he should never have done so. If the referee would have been doing his job properly, he would have noticed that Mister Saint had passed out due to the lack of oxygen that my submission maneuver inflicted. The simple fact is, Mister Saint did not pin me. He simply became dead weight, and fell forward rather then backward. I was unable to lift his weight off of my person within three seconds, and he was rewarded the match. I am not bitter about the loss, and I will give Mister Saint credit where credit is due. He is a fine wrestler, but if he accepts those points with the knowledge that I made him pass out, he is exactly what I called him earlier this week, a charlatan. What kind of man are you Mister Saint? Remember, God knows the truth.

(With that Smith Young turns from the camera and walks away quickly trying to leave the arena.)

++++++++++++++++++++

(Chicago Illinois, home of six NBA championships, nine total NFL championships, five World Series titles, four Stanley Cup wins, and of course what has become synonymous with the city, failure. Those NBA, NFL, and World Series titles are a distant memory, and even the NHL title came after a long drought. In a city like this, it's no surprise that criminals, derelicts, and bums are everywhere you can turn yours eyes. Unfortunately for Smith Young, one of those criminals has targeted him. All he wanted to do was spread the Word to the city and give them hope, but instead he is being accosted by a small man in dirty jeans, a black t-shirt, a White Sox hat, and long scraggly hair. The man points a gun that is almost two big for his hands, right at Smith as he stands there reaching for the wallet in the right pocket of his khakis.)

SY: You know, you do not have to live like this. The Lord provides for all his true followers.

Criminal: Shut up, and give me the money.

SY: I can promise you this sir. If you will turn from this life of crime, the Lord will take care of you.

Criminal: I said shut up, and give me the fucking money.

(The man twitches a little and with his free hand he scratches his head right above his ear. Smith pulls his wallet out slowly, and begins to open it for the man.)

SY: The Lord can help you overcome your addiction as well.

Criminal: Shut the fuck up, give me the money, and go hump a bible you Jesus freak.

(Smith pulls out all the money in his wallet, and hands it over to the man who greedily snatches it away and starts counting.)

Criminal: Thirty bucks? THIRTY FUCKING DOLLARS! That's not gonna buy me shit.

(Suddenly the man raises his gun, and smacks it across the face of Smith. Smith goes down to the ground hard, but the small dirty man isn't done yet. He starts kicking Smith hard in the ribs, and raises the gun to shoot. Luckily for Smith, the cops must have been called and the last thing he sees is the man running off as the sirens get closer.)

++++++++++++++++++++

(If ever there was a more disturbing sight to wake up to then the face of Larry Smith, Smith Young did not know it.)

SY: What are you doing here?

Larry: I'm Larry Smith, I'm the interviewer for

SY: I know who you are, that's why I asked what you're doing here.

Larry: Oh well, we had a scheduled interview for last night but you never showed up. I called your hotel, and then the arena, and then I found out that you were here.

SY: And where exactly is here?

Larry: Northwestern Memorial Hospital. You were mugged and then

SY: Beaten, yes I remember now.

(Smith Young moves to sit up in his bed, but the attacker did quite a number on his ribs. Finally he rises to a seating position and looks right at Larry.)

SY: So how did you get in here?

Larry: Well VWF has some connections, and since they're the host for the tournament his week.

SY: Right, false philanthropy so they can get in to interview wrestlers who have been hurt. Well you're here now, and you've got your camera man, let's go ahead.

Larry: Are you sure you want to do the interview in your current state.

SY: Yes.

Larry: Okay.

(Larry motions for his camera man, and stands up from his seat smoothing out the jacket of his charcoal suit, and fixing his green tie making sure it looks good on his simple white shirt. He moves away from Young's hospital bed just enough to get it out of the shot, and then signals for the camera man to begin.)

Larry: Hello Extreme tournament viewers. This is Larry Smith, Experts interviewer extraodinaire. Today I am here at Northwestern Memorial Hospital to interview tournament participant Smith Young. Earlier this week Mister Young was mugged and beaten by an unknown assailant. We are asking all Chicago residents to go to the police if they know anything about the incident. Now would you like to tell us what happened Mister Young?

(Larry now moves over to the bed, and Smith is in the shot sitting up in his hospital bed just staring a hole through Larry.)

SY: No, I would not.

Larry: Uhm okay, well how are you feeling?

SY: I was hit in the head with a gun and then kicked repeatedly in the ribs, how do you think I'm feeling?

Larry: Will you be ready for your tournament match?

SY: Yes.

Larry: Good to hear. Speaking of the tournament, you had some harsh words for Keaton Saint earlier this week, anything else you would like to say to him?

SY: By now I am sure Mister Saint has already heard my comments.

Larry: Well all right. How about your upcoming match? You're going against Diego De La Vega who, like you, had an impressive showing, but came up just a little bit short.

SY: Larry, if you saw my comments towards Keaton Saint, you know that I did not come short. I won that match, but the referee was too much of a dullard to realize it. That is the past though, now my focus is on Mister De La Vega. This is a man that, similar to me, claims to be a follower of the Lord. Now he practices a false doctrine that does not have the whole truth, and he is at best an occasional follower. As a matter of fact, he disrespects his religion more than he embraces it. It is well known that he lives in sin with his girlfriend. It is also well known that he regularly imbibes alcoholic beverages. As a matter of fact, him and his CRW buddies were spotted partying all around Las Vegas after the tournament. Not only are those actions deplorable for a man of faith, they are deplorable for a person who lost his match.

Larry: Well his friends won their matches.

SY: Then let them be the ones to celebrate. I rightfully won my match, but because the victory was awarded to Mister Saint, I spent my night studying tapes of Mister De La Vega. I was preparing for this match while he was out galavanting. I would guess that he has not prepared for this match one bit. As a matter of fact, I would not be surprised to learn that the mugger was working for him, He has no respect for his religion, and he clearly has no respect for competition. He was a thieve when he was younger. It would not surprise me if he still had criminal connections.

Larry: Do you really believe that Diego could have had something to do with your attack?

SY: I would not have said so if I did not believe it to be possible. I am not accusing him, but I also would not be surprised to learn that he was involved in some way. You can not trust a man who hides his face at all times.

Larry: He wears the mask because he's a luchador. It's a matter of pride for them.

SY: Proverbs sixten, verse eightteen. "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." If Mister De La Vega were a true man of faith, he would no this verse. You see, I take no pride in myself or titles or accomplishments. I know that it is only through the will of the Lord God that I have anything. Satan will always attempt to stop those who follow the Lord, as evidence by the outcome of my match with Mister Saint, but if we hold strong and true in our beliefs, our reward will be great. Mister De La Vega does not hold strong or true in his beliefs, and for this his punishment will be even worse than those who do not claim the name of the Lord God.

Larry: So you think you're going to win because it's the will of God?

SY: I know I am going to win so that I can glorify God. I know I will win because I am a true servant, and my victory will show the power of the Lord. Now, Mister Smith, if you would be so kind as to leave me alone. I would like to rest and hopefully leave this hospital room very soon.

Larry: All right, well thanks for your time.

(Larry signals for the camera man to cut, and they both start making their way out of the room as Smith Young lays down.)

Larry: What a freaking whack job.

[PapaPancho]

A Flame Ignites

Diego steps out of the cab tipping the driver well.  He stands outside Bruno’s Gym in Brooklyn where he regularly trains for all his Code Red Wrestling matches.  Diego walks in to see different types of athletes training for their events: weightlifters, boxers, wrestlers, mixed martial artists.  Diego nods to all the men as he has become a celebrity for the guys there.  It wasn’t too long ago that he was one of them, an unknown hungry to prove himself.  Diego remembers entering Code Red Wrestling a hungry young wrestler wanting to live his dream.  He made a mark on the company overtaking the fan base and become a huge fan favorite.  Now he was back to phase one in the Experts.  Despite all of his success in Code Red Wrestling that didn’t matter at all in the Extreme Tournament.  It was time for Diego to prove himself all over again, to overtake the fan base, to start winning.

(Bruno): Close the door behind you.

Diego walked into the office of gym owner and his own trainer Bruno.  He dropped his gym bag and sat across from the old man’s desk. Bruno was a 60 year old black man who had seen more battles than his body would have allowed. His hands were massive, covered in scars and sporting all kinds of calluses.  When he spoke it was a deep voice on par with Barry White. 

(Bruno): Diego what’s going on with you?

(Diego): I didn’t know something WAS going on with me.

(Bruno): Well something better be going on because I don’t recognize the man sitting across from me.

(Diego): Bruno is this about the losses?

Diego was going through a “rough patch” this past week Diego had been eliminated from the Trans-Atlantic Cup Tournament; he had failed to regain his Apex Championship, and had lost his first round matchup against Adrian Specter.  It had been a long time since Diego had tasted victory.

(Bruno): This has nothing to do with winning or losing and everything to do with you.

Bruno grabbed a green folder and flung it across his desk.  Diego picked it up and realized what Bruno’s gripe was.  In the folder was a stack of editorial articles about Diego de la Vega.  Behind them was printouts of Diego’s tweets.  Every tweet he had made over the past few weeks and finally the last paperwork was a transcript of the day after Las Vegas where Diego had experience his own Hangover story.

(Bruno):  So this is who you are now?  Laughing stock of the entire tournament.

(Diego): Wait a minute Bruno that’s not fa-

(Bruno): FAIR?  Since when is wrestling EVER FAIR!!

Bruno slams his hands down on his desk cracking the cheap IKEA wood.  He gets up from his aluminum chair; the only thing creaking louder than his knees.  Bruno had been retired for decades because of his health.  His body had broken down on him but his mind was as sharp as ever, it’s what made him such a good trainer.  He plants his frame in front of Diego sitting on his desk.

(Bruno): This business is tough.  It eats away at your body, breaks down your will, and concusses your mind and for only an outside shot at the glory and greatness that hundreds of thousands strive for.  I saw you had that chance for greatness.  I saw a hunger in you that would keep pushing past the emotional and physical pains that wrestling loves handing out.

Bruno reaches across his desk for his heart pills and swallows a few with a gulp of water.  Diego leans in to listen closer to his trainer.

(Bruno): But that file.  That person … is not the Diego de la Vega I met.  That man doesn’t show any hunger.   I don’t know who this impostor is that is sitting in front of me.  You wear the mask and you talk like him but you don’t have his eyes.  The Diego I knew had a fire in his eyes that trainers dream of finding in their pupils.  You … your eyes are empty.

Diego buries his head into his hands pulling at his mask.  He takes a deep breath in.

(Diego): I’m still that same guy Bruno.  I’m still starving for more.  I’m not happy to ride the middle of the road in Code Red Wrestling and I’m not happy just showcasing my talents in the Extreme Tournament.  Lo quiero ganar.  I want to win.

Bruno reaches into the file and pulls out a piece of paper.  He holds it up in Diego’s face for him to see.  It is his Biography and Q & A that he filled out for the Extreme Tournament.

(Bruno): You remember this don’t you?  You know what I see when I read this.  It’s not hungry, it’s weak.  Happy to be nominated? Weak.  Family over titles? Weak.

(Diego): Esperace un momento! Now I may have been in a rut but you watch your mouth about my family!! 

Diego stands with an accusing finger pointed at his own trainer a smile across his face.  Diego is breathing hard his muscle tensed as he stands in front of his trainer fuming underneath his luchador mask.  A slap on the shoulder breaks the silence as Bruno lets out a quick laugh.

(Bruno): GOOD.  The fire isn’t totally extinguished.  But not every man is going to insult your family and spark that flame.  You’ve got to find a way to tap into that fire on your own.  That packet right there?  It’s absolutely meaningless.  The TMZ contract out on your head?  Background noise.  Only one thing matters right now and that’s the next match you have against Smith Young.

(Diego): What’s to say?  I’m going to train as hard as I ever do because that’s exactly what I do.  Smith Young might be misguided by his beliefs but he’s going to do the same.  Words are absolutely meaningless when the competition is this close.  Does it matter if I humiliate my opponent before the match only to lose in the ring? 

Bruno reaches for his bottle of water and takes another gulp. 

(Bruno):  Don’t let your humility get in the way of your hunger.  Your hunger is what’s going to take you far in this tournament and maybe … just maybe … to the True Experts Title but first things first you have to get a win in your match against Smith Young.  A loss would cripple your chances in advancing from the Group Stage while a draw would mean we would have to sweep the next matches.  A win is the only acceptable result this time.

(Diego): I understand.

(Bruno): Good.  But something tells me you wouldn’t be so timid if you saw what Smith Young had to say about you.

Diego sees Bruno take out a transcript of Smith Young’s interview.  Diego reads it over reacting each time to Smith Young’s outlandish accusations. 

(Diego):  He actually said these things? Esta loco este pendejo?  I feel bad that he got mugged but that does not excuse his words in this interview.

Diego just stares down at the transcript trying to understand what would make a man of God make such wild accusations about someone he knows little about.  Out of frustration he slams the transcript on the desk and leans in staring right into Bruno’s eyes.

(Diego): This culero doesn’t even know me.  Yet all of a sudden he’s a true expert on Diego de la Vega?  Well I don’t want to make the man a liar.  He’s going to become a true expert on Diego de la Vega.  He’s going to learn exactly who I am and what I do.  He’s going to realize that he’s not better than me; neither as a wrestler or a man. 

Diego stops speaking and just stares into Bruno’s eyes who doesn’t react to the pissed off Diego de la Vega.    Once again, a smile cracks across the wrinkled face of Bruno as he simply nods and tells Diego to get ready to train.  Diego removes his hand from the desk and grabs his gear heading out of the office.  As he closes the door behind him he can hear his trainer whisper …

(Bruno): it’s about damn time.

Diego closes the office door behind him his adrenaline running high.  He passes by his training partner Keith Evans and heads to the locker room, Keith following behind him.  Diego drops his gear down and asks Keith to pull out his phone.

(Diego):  Keith I’m gonna want you to record this for me.  This is a message for Smith Young.  I hope you wrestle better than you preach because for a man that worships and follows God as much as you do you have forgotten God’s greatest quality; love.  God’s love and forgiveness are his greatest qualities because we are not defined by our moments of weakness spent in sin we are judged for the good we do in our lives.  The only thing you seem to love is the sound of your own voice.

You have a problem with me celebrating with my friends in Las Vegas?  Do you have any idea the work it takes to not only start your own wrestling company but to establish it and get it noticed.  Thanks to Talon Wilkinson, Donovan Davenport, Gravedigger, Carlisle Cain, William Draconis, Buck Dempsey we have already put Code Red Wrestling on the map.  Together with our blood sweat and tears we built Code Red into the threat it is now.  Our hard work, our backs, our Code Red and excuse me Mr. Holier than thou if we took a minute to reflect on how far we have come. 

But our match isn’t about me partying in Vegas, it’s not about you getting mugged, it’s about two men who believe without a shadow of a doubt that they are the better man and the better wrestler.  You want to question my work ethic?  Eres un imbecil!!  I have lived and survived through everything.  I escaped war, death, and murder in Juarez and came to the United States in order to live the American Dream.  I made it all the way to New York City into Code Red and now I will be in Chicago wrestling in front of thousands.  Do you even understand how much work, courage, heart, determination it takes to leave your home, your country, your people in order to chase a dream that everyone tells you isn’t attainable?  Does that kind of hard work and effort exists in your little bubble world?

And as if you haven’t pissed me off enough you insult me by saying I hide behind my mask.  You riff of a bible quote about pride but don’t see your own pride that clouds your judgment.  You believe yourself superior to everyone around you and I’m sorry to be the one to prove to you that you are NOT better than ANYONE!!  You are not God and you are not fit to judge anything!! 

You’re in for a very rudo awakening Smith Young.  A war is already here in EFK.  Men are in a mad grab for power and you believe yourself to be their savior.  You believe yourself a Messiah.  I mean after all, everyone will play their role que no?  But against me on Saturday June 30th your role will not be that of a savior your role this Saturday will be of my whipping boy as I make it a point to humble you.  You will learn to shut your perverted and twisted views on God.

God loves and he forgives always.  This Saturday … I don’t.

Diego heart is racing a mile a minute his adrenaline on full blast.  His breathes are short and quick.  Keith uses the zoom function on his phone to close in on Diego’s face and just for a moment Keith swears he sees the flicker of a flame in Diego’s eye.