Post by Guernica on May 28, 2015 18:11:12 GMT
The scene opens up into one of the many backstage locker rooms of Imperial Wrestling Federation. This particular one is oddly decorated, with gold, white and red. The room almost looks rather Aztec or Incan, with all of the symbols embroidered onto the banners which hang along the walls. There is no visible door, so it must be behind the camera.
Straight down the middle of the camera’s view, there is a banner which stands out among the rest because of its purple colour. It’s a banner advertising ‘Night Of The Immortals’, specifically the match between Guernica, Eddie Black, Alexander Atwater and Andrew Jacobsen. The words ‘Ultimate X’ seem to stand out on the poster.
Then from behind the camera, emerges Guernica, in full ring attire. There is a certain energy in his step as he seems eager to get back into action following a week’s absence due to travel issues. He walks away from the camera before quickly jumping around one-hundred and eighty and crouching down, looking dead into the camera lens. He begins to speak:
‘For eighty days I have set foot inside this company. It really does not seem like that long ago since I entered these doors for the first time, but it’s been that long. For eighty days I’ve been trying hard to set the tempo for everybody else, making promises to come out of the gates faster than my fighting opponent, fighting for a chance to break away from the pack and make it alone.’
‘And for eight days, I have failed’
‘Day eighty-one, I’m here talking to you; because you people are the ones that make me feel alive. It has worked out in the past; with people chanting my name behind my back I could do anything. But unfortunately, in Imperial Wrestling Federation, it hasn’t quite worked out as well as in the past, even ten days ago. May 18th I was ‘the’ one you all were rooting for, and I let you all down.’
There is a sudden silence. Guernica starts pacing up and down the room; hyperactive; full of energy that’s been waiting to get out for the last week. Visibly, Guernica is struggling to contain himself and then he starts to talk again, still walking.
‘On the eighty-fifth day, things will change. On the 31st of May, on ‘the’ Night Of The Immortals, I will break away, whether I come out victorious with an Invictus Championship #1 Contender spot, or simply with my pride undamaged.’
‘But who do you think would be better walking out of Night Of The Immortals than the one person who knows the true meaning of survival...?’
/---------\|/---------\
Bold + Italics = S.A.H
Bold + Italics = S.A.H
Plain Bold = Guernica
The scene with Guernica in the locker rooms fades to a new scene. The now familiar streets of Tijuana that has appeared in many of Guernica’s promotions. It’s the same every time. Dirt roads, beggars on the sides of the roads and down alleyways, this is definitely not ‘down-town’ Tijuana. This is the district where the bells don’t ring.
The camera slowly pans down to Guernica walking along the side of the path, with somebody else keeping up with him. Large, round, old. Santiago Abano Henriquez, the main inspiration and drive of the young luchador.
What the two men are exactly saying remains a mystery until the camera moves in really close. Even then, the subject of the conversation isn’t exactly clear.
‘You know, Jose Leron; they haven’t had the same kind of fortune you’ve had. That’s for absolute certain.’
‘I realise that; that’s why I do everything I can to help them’
‘Well, judging from what’s around us, ‘everything you can’ isn’t exactly a lot. I know you’re not exactly a filthy rich crook, but you’re by far the most successful person to come out of my academy since your father before you. That’s a lot’
‘Yeah, because that’s got him so far now...’
‘Jose...look. I don’t know the exact details why he’s gone from Luchador to Chuntaro-‘
‘Chuntaro? You’d go as far to call your own son that despite all he’s done!?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like...nickname. How well do you think he’s treated behind bars?’
There is an awkward silence as the two continue to walk. Guernica doesn’t speak, remembering all about his father, the taxes, the arrest. Santiago thinks it’s time to change the subject.
‘So, we were on about the sin hogar...‘
‘The Homeless, Santi...’
‘I was telling you about the fortune you have and that they don’t-’
‘And I was telling you that I do everything I can...’
‘And I never told you the reason to try harder...’
'If you say what I think you'll say, then you're lying'
'If you say what I think you'll say, then you're lying'
There is another silence as Santiago turns to Guernica, waiting for him to say something else. Guernica takes a while to decide, but simply nods, allowing Santiago to start.
‘Would you believe me if I told you I was like that once...’
‘Santi; you tell that story probably once a month. You used to be homeless, you were taken in by a man when you were thirteen, shortly after your parents’ house was taken away. His name was Jorge Castillon-‘
‘And he took me in, with the wealth he had, and made the man who I am.’
‘But I’m not going to do that with, what? Hundreds of different people? It won’t make a difference!’
The duo comes to a corner, and turn it. But on the corner, Santiago stops for a moment. He fishes into his pocket and takes out a not a few coins, but many notes and tosses them into a recycled pizza box that the sin hogar was using as a money box.
‘It made a difference to him...’
Guernica’s face is a mix of amazement, disbelief and then fades into realisation. Santiago and Guernica exchange a glance before they continue walking off, the camera stopping and watching them walk over the horizon and behind the curvature of the Earth.
\---------/|\---------/
‘So, to my three opponents, I’d like to say that this Guernica is different. But that would be a lie. This Guernica is exactly the same as the one you faced many times. Same man, but with a different attitude. Actually, that’s sort of a lie aswell. Very similar attitude. I don’t know if words can explain, but I’m coming a new- no. Not a new Guernica.’
Guernica silences again, and continues pacing up and down the room. He rubs his hands through the face of his mask and onto its cap and towards its strap. Guernica grabs the strap for a moment, before letting go. He begins to talk once more:
‘Eddie Black. Let’s start with the T-Rex of the ring. The hunter, the brutal one and the power of the pack. I’ll admit, when you first said I wasn’t ready for you; you were right. When you say now that I’m not ready to be in that ring with you and Atwater in a collision course, you’re most likely right again. I know where to stand, and I’ll decide in the ring whether it’s on you, Atwater, Jacoben or on the X.’
‘But really, you show great lust for two completely different things. A championship; and blood. The things that can really tell a lot about a man’s personality is the things he loves, and that combination is nothing words can describe’
‘Speaking of words themselves, many people have talked about you in different ways. Dark, brutal and powerful are some of the words people tell you. Other words, by more daring competitors would be insane, nightmarish and simply not alright. But the truth is, Black, words simply cannot describe you. You’re actions do the talking for you.’
Guernica is now more confident and powerful in his speaking. He is still jumping around quite vigorously however.
‘Now moving from the depths of hell to The North Star. Andrew Jacobsen. I never truly got the chance to discuss you before the tables match ten days ago. That was rather unfortunate, because I had a lot on my chest. Now it’s going to come out.’
‘Before I do that, let me briefly point out. I agree that is doesn’t matter who got put through a table ten days ago. Yes, it was you; but that says nothing. Atwater is an accomplished competitor. You’re an accomplished competitor too. Everybody competing at Night Of The Immortals is accomplished. No less than a natural born fighter.’
‘We have our strengths, Jacobsen. I have speed and agility. Black has raw power, and cahonas. You have technical prowess in making a man give up. Atwater has two mighty fists. We are going to play to our strengths, and since this is Ultimate X, mighty fists and raw power isn’t going to help you get some air. It will in a match like the tables match all that time ago, but not now.’
‘We will be the ones to dominate. So the chances are, it’s going to me and you fighting it out for a finish. So good luck’
The lights in the locker-room flash out for a moment, before returning, this time slightly dimmer than before. Guernica looks up at the light before returning to his talking.
‘So finally, onto those two big fists. Alexander Atwater. Before I start, as I said to Jacobsen, the tables match does not matter. You won, and I’ll hand you that, but it does not mean anything on May 31st. Different match, and a new prospect in the form of Eddie Black’
‘Like Jacobsen, I could not talk directly to you before that match. However, unlike Jacobsen, I don’t have a lot to say. I did then, but not now. Why not, you might ask?’
‘Well, during the eighty days I’ve been here I’ve talked a lot about one particular subject. A subject that has yet to be mentioned in this conversation. I’ve been giving out my respect, rather prematurely. I’ve been giving it out and it’s simply being thrown out by others. So at the start of this I couldn’t decide whether I am a different Guernica or not. I’ll tell you right now, one thing is different. You’ll have to earn any respect you get off of me’
‘You’re about thirty or forty percent there. The tables match was a good start. But I’m going to be particularly tough for this time. Regardless of whether or not I win, I will shake the hand of the man who earns my respect. Not thirty or forty percent. One hundred percent. Anybody honourable and courteous enough to earn my respect will know it. Because if they haven’t, something else is coming. Think of this not as a challenge, but rather a test to see if you are worthy of either my ally or enemy radar.’
‘Good luck, and as always. May the best man win’
Well howdy there pardner.