Post by kosm0s on Jun 12, 2020 17:42:26 GMT -5
Sat amid a flurry of activity, he shifted uneasy in the black folding chair he’d been given. Adjusting his mask for what had to be the thousandth time, he just couldn’t seem to get comfortable.
Assistant producers, technical, and lighting crews were running the final cables and doing their last minute checks. This would be his first recorded piece for the company. He was less than thrilled about the whole process. This wasn’t him. It didn’t feel natural.
He’d been in a foul mood ever since ShowCase, turning down any and all promotional opportunities for the Pay Per View. Vanessa had all but begged him to reconsider. Proper hype and advertising leading up to his pay per view debut on an even bigger stage than HBO offered could do amazing things for his profile and both of their careers. But still, the stubborn rookie luchador refused.
In fact, he didn’t even want to show up for this. Only Vanessa’s insistence on him honouring the booking caused him to get out of bed at all. It was eat, sleep, train.
In his mind, not only had he been robbed of the Pureblood Championship, worse yet was that Sahara had gotten away clean…again. That was twice now.
What the hell was security doing? Where the hell were they? Fans could just buy a mask and be allowed ringside?
A slightly winded young man dressed in black ‘OPW Staff’ attire and red in the face from running through the entirety of the backstage area thrusts a cold bottle of water dripping with condensation in his direction. “Here’s the bottle of water Vanessa asked for.”
Taking the bottle with a simple, “Gracias amigo.” Vanessa had been a marvel to watch from the moment they had arrived on set.
Everything she had done had given the impression that she was a seasoned professional. She controlled the atmosphere around her. Everything from her impossibly short black skirt to the blazer that showed just enough cleavage to distract from the skirt had been chosen with purpose. Designed with the intent to give her an advantage within the male dominated sport of professional wrestling.
It didn’t stop at her appearance, Vanessa handled everything, he wanted for nothing. He never seen anything like it. The petite Latina had these gringos tripping over themselves left and right just to get him water. It was borderline embarrassing. Her accent wasn’t even that thick when she spoke English, but these over sexed Americans ate it up.
It certainly wasn’t his style, and he didn’t completely approve…but following Showcase, he didn’t much care how things went now.
“How’s my favourite client?” She was hoping to pull him out of this funk. He knew very well that he was her only client.
“Not in the mood Vanessa.” He was cold, upset and rightfully so. He had been mere moments away from victory, only to have it taken from him. “How much longer will this be? I just want to get back to the gym.”
That was supposed to be it. The moment.ShowCase was ‘it’. Winning that match and capturing his first title was to be the moment he pointed to when he said, “Papa, I should be Tiranosaurio Junior.”
And it was gone, his reward? Nothing. Not even a direct rematch. A sham of a triple threat involving the very person who cost him his chance. Management was actually rewarding Sahara for interfering in the match!
It didn’t make sense to him then and the days passing since had failed to add clarity. Vanessa made the calls she could, but nothing came of it. He hadn’t been able to move on.
“I’m sure it won’t be long now. The last producer I spoke to said they were changing backdrops and logging and you were next. Just relax.” She was pleading with him, she knew what came next and she was doing everything in her power to calm him, nothing worked.
“Look, you have options. I am not in favour of this but if you really want to, you have an option.” This option she spoke of had been agreed upon at his signing, he would stay until the PPV, one full event cycle. Highway to Hell fulfilled that commitment.
She saw the light go on in his head and her head sunk as he stood. She knew the answer, but had to ask. “Where you headed? Set’s that way.” She said, pointing behind her.
Looking over his shoulder, he said the only thing he could.
“I’m going to go out there and go through the motions, that’s it. Do my job. Then figure out what comes next afterward. Some Pay Per View debut huh? He laughed at the oddity of his situation. “Because that’s all I can do…then hope I do better next time. C’mon, let’s get out of here Vanessa. They probably wouldn’t want to air anything I taped today anyways.”
Staring him down, he didn’t look away. He meant it. “Ok Dinosaurio, if you really feel that way. There’s probably no coming back from this, you know that right?” When he didn’t move a single muscle, she sighed; at least he was honouring his booking.
Letting him walk off a few steps, Vanessa turned to her disappointed pack of assistants and interns. “Sorry boys. Tell the crew I can only bring the Dino to the water, I can’t make him drink. He doesn’t want to do it. My apologies.”
Walking away, she could feel the heat of their stares rushing over her. Catching up to him, she couldn’t believe he was really leaving. “So, do you have a plan?”
He smiled, “Nope.”
Assistant producers, technical, and lighting crews were running the final cables and doing their last minute checks. This would be his first recorded piece for the company. He was less than thrilled about the whole process. This wasn’t him. It didn’t feel natural.
He’d been in a foul mood ever since ShowCase, turning down any and all promotional opportunities for the Pay Per View. Vanessa had all but begged him to reconsider. Proper hype and advertising leading up to his pay per view debut on an even bigger stage than HBO offered could do amazing things for his profile and both of their careers. But still, the stubborn rookie luchador refused.
In fact, he didn’t even want to show up for this. Only Vanessa’s insistence on him honouring the booking caused him to get out of bed at all. It was eat, sleep, train.
In his mind, not only had he been robbed of the Pureblood Championship, worse yet was that Sahara had gotten away clean…again. That was twice now.
What the hell was security doing? Where the hell were they? Fans could just buy a mask and be allowed ringside?
A slightly winded young man dressed in black ‘OPW Staff’ attire and red in the face from running through the entirety of the backstage area thrusts a cold bottle of water dripping with condensation in his direction. “Here’s the bottle of water Vanessa asked for.”
Taking the bottle with a simple, “Gracias amigo.” Vanessa had been a marvel to watch from the moment they had arrived on set.
Everything she had done had given the impression that she was a seasoned professional. She controlled the atmosphere around her. Everything from her impossibly short black skirt to the blazer that showed just enough cleavage to distract from the skirt had been chosen with purpose. Designed with the intent to give her an advantage within the male dominated sport of professional wrestling.
It didn’t stop at her appearance, Vanessa handled everything, he wanted for nothing. He never seen anything like it. The petite Latina had these gringos tripping over themselves left and right just to get him water. It was borderline embarrassing. Her accent wasn’t even that thick when she spoke English, but these over sexed Americans ate it up.
It certainly wasn’t his style, and he didn’t completely approve…but following Showcase, he didn’t much care how things went now.
“How’s my favourite client?” She was hoping to pull him out of this funk. He knew very well that he was her only client.
“Not in the mood Vanessa.” He was cold, upset and rightfully so. He had been mere moments away from victory, only to have it taken from him. “How much longer will this be? I just want to get back to the gym.”
That was supposed to be it. The moment.ShowCase was ‘it’. Winning that match and capturing his first title was to be the moment he pointed to when he said, “Papa, I should be Tiranosaurio Junior.”
And it was gone, his reward? Nothing. Not even a direct rematch. A sham of a triple threat involving the very person who cost him his chance. Management was actually rewarding Sahara for interfering in the match!
It didn’t make sense to him then and the days passing since had failed to add clarity. Vanessa made the calls she could, but nothing came of it. He hadn’t been able to move on.
“I’m sure it won’t be long now. The last producer I spoke to said they were changing backdrops and logging and you were next. Just relax.” She was pleading with him, she knew what came next and she was doing everything in her power to calm him, nothing worked.
“Look, you have options. I am not in favour of this but if you really want to, you have an option.” This option she spoke of had been agreed upon at his signing, he would stay until the PPV, one full event cycle. Highway to Hell fulfilled that commitment.
She saw the light go on in his head and her head sunk as he stood. She knew the answer, but had to ask. “Where you headed? Set’s that way.” She said, pointing behind her.
Looking over his shoulder, he said the only thing he could.
“I’m going to go out there and go through the motions, that’s it. Do my job. Then figure out what comes next afterward. Some Pay Per View debut huh? He laughed at the oddity of his situation. “Because that’s all I can do…then hope I do better next time. C’mon, let’s get out of here Vanessa. They probably wouldn’t want to air anything I taped today anyways.”
Staring him down, he didn’t look away. He meant it. “Ok Dinosaurio, if you really feel that way. There’s probably no coming back from this, you know that right?” When he didn’t move a single muscle, she sighed; at least he was honouring his booking.
Letting him walk off a few steps, Vanessa turned to her disappointed pack of assistants and interns. “Sorry boys. Tell the crew I can only bring the Dino to the water, I can’t make him drink. He doesn’t want to do it. My apologies.”
Walking away, she could feel the heat of their stares rushing over her. Catching up to him, she couldn’t believe he was really leaving. “So, do you have a plan?”
He smiled, “Nope.”