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Climax Control Archives / ENDEAVOR LXV
« on: June 13, 2025, 12:53:17 AM »
Blog: Almighty Fire
semana del 9 al 15 de junio de 2025
How do you like me now?
Last week, I did what legends do—I retained the Bombshell Internet Championship, against the very woman who thought she could take this title from me. Bella Madison showed up, talked a big game, but when the bell rang? Reality hit hard. And spoiler alert: I’m still standing, still shining, still the one everyone’s chasing in this division.
You see, some people come back with all kinds of excuses—“what ifs,” “almosts,” and “destinies” that never quite pan out. But last week wasn’t about stories or second chances. It was about proving who belongs at the top. And I proved it. Again.
Last time, Bella said I caught her on a bad night. Honey, I catch people on their best nights, their worst nights, and every night in between. That’s what happens when you’re the standard—when you’re Mercedes Vargas. Let’s see what kind of excuse she invents now, after being humiliated twice in three weeks. She claimed she was coming for me with nothing left to lose. Well, I took her title, her pride, and her last shred of respect—and crushed it all under my stilettos.
Transitional champion? You’re damn right. I am the transition—the before, the after, and the always. I’m the bridge from forgettable to legendary. I’m the trend. I’m the headline. I’m the legacy everyone else is chasing. I paved the road she’s stumbling down, and last week, I reminded her exactly who’s in charge.
She wants to talk fate? Fate didn’t put her in the ring with me, and it sure as hell didn’t save her from the beating I delivered. And when she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the lights, she remembered and realized fate wasn’t her enemy — it just wasn’t on her side.
I’ve crushed Bella’s dreams, silenced her excuses, and now it’s time to turn my attention to the next in line. Because when you’re at the top, there’s always someone else coming for your crown. This week, it’s Lilith Locke.
Let's not pretend you’re the first to try and make a name for yourself at my expense, Lilith. Every few months, someone new creeps out of the shadows, convinced they’re the one to finally crack the code. They all come in with their own flavor of bravado—some loud, some mysterious, some just desperate for attention. You? You prefer the mysterious route. The cryptic tweets, the dramatic entrances, the way you linger in the background just long enough to make people wonder. I’ll admit, it’s a cute gimmick.
You call yourself the “Queen of Shadows,” as if hiding in the dark ever scared anyone. I’ve seen shadows before—they vanish the second the lights hit. And I am the brightest, most blinding light this division has ever seen. I’m the history-maker, the standard-bearer, the name etched on every accolade, every championship, every milestone that matters.
Some wrestlers build their legacies on moments; others, like me, build them on milestones. You’ve had your moments, Lilith—those flashes of brilliance, those “did you see that?” nights that get people talking. But when the dust settles, and the division needs a champion to carry it forward, they don’t look for the one who hides in the shadows. They look for the one who’s always there, week in and week out, setting the standard. Funny how that works, isn’t it?
You know, Lilith, it’s almost poetic how you’ve managed to build a name for yourself by being unpredictable. People talk about you like you’re some unsolvable riddle, a puzzle that no one’s managed to crack. But here’s a little secret—mystery only gets you so far. Eventually, the lights come on, the curtain falls, and the audience sees the act for what it is. And when that happens, all that’s left is what you can actually do in the ring. But let’s get real for a second. Last Sunday, you didn’t just try to make a statement—you took a cheap shot. Attacking me from behind? That’s not the move of a queen, or even a contender. You're just a girl, not yet a woman. That’s the act of someone who knows she can’t win face to face. We're going to be face to face this time. You will not make an example of me. You will not bully me. And you are certainly not going to sneak up on me again, mamita. You sent a message you say? No, no, no. You DISRESPECTED an SCW Hall of Famer. You know what I do with disrespect? I light a fire up under your ass.
I've been watching you for a while now. You move through this division like a rumor—whispered about, never quite proven, always lurking just out of sight. There’s a certain charm to that, I suppose.
Some people are content to be the question mark in the story, the mystery that never quite gets solved. I, on the other hand, prefer to be the headline everyone remembers. I’ll give you this—you’re talented. But you’re stepping into my world now. You bring chaos, I bring order. You play games? I end careers. When the bell rings, all the darkness you hide behind won’t save you. You’re not facing just another opponent—you’re facing Mercedes Vargas, and that means you’re facing the end of your story and the beginning of another chapter in mine.
So, Lilith, when you step into the ring with me, you’re stepping into the harshest truth of your career. No shadows, no secrets, just you—exposed, outclassed, and outmatched. The whole world will be watching as I tear down your illusions and leave you broken in the spotlight.
Because when it’s all said and done, the only thing anyone will remember is that you stood across from greatness—and the only shadow you’ll see is the one I cast as I walk away, champion as always, leaving you in the wreckage.
See you in the ring, Lilith. Try not to disappear before the lights go out.
L O S A N G E L E S • C A L I F O R N I A
INT. LOCAL DINER – EVENING
[The neon sign outside the local diner flickers, casting a restless blue glow through the window and onto the worn linoleum floors. It’s the kind of place where the coffee is always hot, the waitresses know your name, and the booths have seen more secrets than most confessionals. Mercedes Vargas sits in a battered booth near the back, her championship belt tucked securely in her gym bag at her side. She traces the rim of her coffee mug with a tired finger, eyes distant, caught somewhere between the present and the next match.
[A waitress—MARLENE, late 50s, with a kind smile—passes by, topping off Mercedes’ coffee.]
MARLENE
Rough night, champ?
[Mercedes offers a tired half-smile.]
MERCEDES
Just thinking, Marlene. Thanks.
[Marlene gives her a knowing wink, wipes a spot on the table, and moves on.]
[The bell over the door jingles. Ricardo enters, shaking off rain, runs a hand through his hair, and slides into the booth across from Mercedes. He sets his phone down, eyes the gym bag.]
RICARDO:
You know, if you keep winning, you’re gonna need a bigger bag.
[Irma arrives, umbrella in one hand, phone in the other. She drops the umbrella, flicks raindrops off her sleeve, and slides in beside Ricardo.]
IRMA:
You’re trending again. Half the comments think you’re invincible, the other half think Lilith’s gonna end your reign. Gotta love the internet.
[Hugo enters calmly, folds his umbrella, hangs coat, and sits beside Mercedes, placing a notepad on the table.]
HUGO
Mercedes, you look like you could use a vacation.
[The door swings open again. Tomas bursts in, drenched and grinning, bakery box in hand. He slides in beside Irma, nudging her as he sets the box on the table. They settle in, some offering tired smiles, others simply grateful to be off their feet. For a moment, silence and the scent of coffee and fried food mingles with the low hum of conversation from the other booths and a jukebox playing.]
TOMAS
I brought pie! Figured if Mer’s carrying gold, the least I can do is bring dessert.
[The group laughs. Marlene brings over extra plates and napkins, setting them down with a wink. Irma opens the box, Tomas hands out slices, and Ricardo immediately snags a fork.]
MARLENE
On the house tonight. You all look like you could use it.
[They thank her. For a moment, the group settles, the only sound the rain tapping the glass and the sizzle from the kitchen. Mercedes stares out the window, her voice low and thoughtful when she finally breaks the quiet.]
MERCEDES:
Funny thing about being on top—nobody tells you how lonely it gets. You win, you shine, but you also paint a target on your back.
[Ricardo leans forward, grabbing a chipped mug and wrapping his hands around it as if to warm himself. He glances at Mercedes, then at the belt.]
RICARDO:
That’s the price, right? I caught Lilith’s promo. She’s not just coming for your title, Mer. She wants your whole legacy.
[Irma’s tone is dry, almost biting. She taps her phone, then sets it face-down, crossing her arms.]
IRMA:
Legacy’s a funny word. Bella Madison wanted it too. Now she’s just another name on the list.
[She rolls her eyes, reaching for a slice of pie.]
IRMA:
Half these challengers talk big until they’re flat on their back. Social media’s already moved on.
[Hugo nods, his voice quiet but steady.]
HUGO:
You made her tap, Mercedes. But Lilith—she plays a different game. Shadows, mind tricks. She’s not like the rest.
[Mercedes manages a half-smile, though her eyes betray her exhaustion.]
MERCEDES:
Shadows only work if you’re scared of the dark. I’ve fought monsters, queens, ghosts from my own past. I’m still here. Still the one they chase.
[Tomas grins, trying to lighten the mood. He waves his fork for emphasis.]
TOMAS:
If I had that belt, I’d use it to skip the line at the bakery. Or at least get free pie. Maybe scare off the bill collectors. You ever think about just wearing it everywhere, Mer? Like, to the grocery store?
[The group chuckles. Ricardo sneaks a bite of Tomas’s pie; Irma nudges him.]
IRMA
You’d just get frosting on it.
[Mercedes’s smile fades. She pushes pie with her fork, voice soft.]
MERCEDES:
It’s not the gold that weighs you down. It’s the eyes. The ones waiting for you to fall. Every week, someone new wants to make a name off me. But I’m still here, still shining.
[She glances up, catching Irma’s supportive smile and reaches across the table, her touch gentle but firm. Ricardo drums his fingers on the table, lost in thought. In the background, a waitress refills their coffee, pausing to offer Mercedes a knowing nod.]
IRMA
You’re not alone, Mer. Out there, maybe. But here? You got us. I’ll bring the snacks. And the first aid kit.
[Ricardo nods in agreement, tapping his mug.]
RICARDO:
I’ll bring the hype. Remind you who you are when the lights get too bright.
[Hugo offers a reassuring smile.]
HUGO:
I’ll keep you grounded. Remind you to breathe.
[Tomas smirks.]
TOMAS:
And I’ll make sure you never take yourself too seriously. Someone’s gotta keep you honest.
[Mercedes looks at each of them, gratitude flickering in her eyes. She takes a breath, the weight on her shoulders a little lighter.]
MERCEDES:
In the ring, it’s just me and whoever wants my spot. But out here? I got a team. That’s how you survive. That’s how you win.
[They raise their mugs in a silent toast, the clink of ceramic a quiet promise to face the battles ahead—inside the ring and out—together.]
[Hugo glances at his watch and grins, stretching his arms.]
HUGO:
Speaking of battles, did you guys catch the game last night? That final play was insane.
[Irma smirks, shaking her head, tucking her phone away.]
IRMA:
You and your sports. I swear, you’d talk football all day if you could.
[Hugo chuckles, reaching for another slice of pie.]
HUGO
Better than wrestling promos.
[Tomas laughs, mouth full, nearly dropping his fork.]
TOMAS
Hey, maybe next time we bring in some sports talk. Mix it up a little.
[Mercedes laughs, the tension finally breaking.]
MERCEDES:
Only if you promise not to steal my spotlight.
[The group settles into easy conversation, the moment shifting from the weight of titles and legacies to the simple joy of friendship.]
HUGO:
Speaking of spotlights, you all are still coming to The Floating Penalty Box this weekend, right? I need honest opinions on the new menu—plus, I could use some help bailing out Tomas if he gets seasick again.
[Tomas groans, shaking his head, waving his fork.]
TOMAS:
It was one time, Hugo. One choppy night, and you’ll never let me live it down.
[Irma grins, nudging Tomas.]
IRMA:
You know he’s got that story laminated and ready for every new customer. “Welcome aboard, did I ever tell you about the time Hugo turned greener than my guacamole?”
[Ricardo laughs, brushing crumbs off his shirt.]
RICARDO:
I’m just glad you finally fixed the leak near table three. Last time I ate there, I thought I was going to need a life jacket with my burger.
[Tomas holds up his hands defensively, then grabs another napkin.]
HUGO:
Hey, it’s all part of the nautical charm. Where else can you get fish tacos and the thrill of possibly going overboard?
[Mercedes grins, reaching for another slice of pie, the tension of earlier forgotten.]
MERCEDES:
Honestly, Hugo, The Floating Penalty Box is the only place I know where you can order a “Powerbomb Platter” and have to duck when the mast swings by. You’ve got style, I’ll give you that.
[Hugo beams with pride, jotting something in his notepad.]
HUGO:
Not just dinner, an experience. Wait till you try the “Submission Sundae.” Three scoops, hot fudge, and a little umbrella—because you’ll need shade after tapping out.
[Irma laughs, shaking her head, sipping her coffee.]
IRMA:
If your food doesn’t finish us, that dessert will. But I’ll be there. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t poison the whole harbor.
[Hugo sets his mug down and leans back, a sly smile spreading across his face. Outside, the rain has stopped, and the neon sign glows steady.]
MERCEDES:
Wouldn't miss it for the world. After this week, I could use a night where the only thing I have to wrestle is a crab cake.
[The group laughs, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. Marlene passes by, topping off their coffee one last time as the camera pulls back, the diner a warm island of light in the rainy night.]
[END]
Present Day ♦ C O L O R A D O S P R I N G S • C O L O R A D O
[REC•]
[The sun is just beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the towering red rock formations of Garden of the Gods. The wind stirs, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Mercedes Vargas stands atop a boulder, her championship belt slung over her shoulder, her posture regal and commanding. She’s dressed in a sleek, form-fitting jacket with bold, gold accents, and her hair catches the fading light, shimmering with every confident move.
[She surveys the landscape, the city of Colorado Springs visible in the distance, the mountains standing sentinel behind her. A few hikers pause nearby, drawn by her undeniable presence, but Mercedes pays them no mind. She’s focused, magnetic, and ready to speak her truth.
Mercedes takes a slow, deliberate step forward, boots crunching on the gravel. She raises her chin, her expression a blend of challenge and allure. She inhales deeply, grounding herself in the moment, before turning her gaze directly forward, as if locking eyes with her opponent miles away.]
“Lilith Locke, I hope you’re watching. Because this—”
[She sweeps her arm out, gesturing to the ancient, unyielding rocks.]
“—this is where legends stand tall. This is where the earth itself remembers every step, every battle, every victory. And come Sunday, it’s going to remember mine.”
[She paces along the edge of the boulder, her movements fluid and purposeful, every bit the superstar. Her voice is smooth, sultry, and sharp—her signature charisma woven into every syllable.]
“You call yourself the Queen of Shadows. Cute, really. But shadows only matter when no one’s watching. When the sun rises, shadows vanish—and baby, I am the sun. I don’t hide in the dark—I set the world on fire. I don’t whisper threats—I make promises. And I always keep them.”
[Mercedes pauses, letting her words hang in the air. She runs a hand along the championship belt, her nails glinting.]
“You want to play mind games? Honey, I invented the game, and then I changed the rules. I’ve stared down monsters, toppled queens, and rewritten history. I’m not just a champion—I’m the standard. The blueprint. The reason every woman in this company dreams a little bigger, fight a little harder, and believe that maybe, just maybe, they could one day reach my level. But let’s be honest, there is only one Mercedes Vargas, and the rest are just trying to keep up."
[She descends from the boulder with a graceful leap, landing lightly on the path below. A group of tourists glance over, sensing the energy radiating from her. Mercedes flashes a dazzling, knowing smile.]
“You see, Lilith, you think you’re going to walk into my world and turn it upside down. You think you’re going to haunt me, rattle me, break me. But let me remind you: I don’t break. I bend the rules, I set the pace, and I always—always—come out on top. You think you can shake the foundation I’ve built? Sorry to break it to you, mamita, but this isn’t just a foundation—it’s bedrock. Built on everything you wish you had and everything you’ll never take from me.”
[Mercedes leans in slightly, her eyes narrowing with a knowing smirk.]
"You know what I love about challengers like you, Lilith? You come in thinking you’re a mystery, a riddle no one can solve. But I’ve cracked codes tougher than yours before breakfast. All that darkness you wrap yourself in? It’s just a curtain, and I’m about to pull it back for the world to see. When the lights are brightest and the pressure’s at its peak, that’s when I do my best work. That’s when the truth comes out—and the truth is, most can’t handle it. You’re stepping into a spotlight that burns hotter than you’re used to. Let’s see if you melt, or if you even make it long enough to cast a shadow."
[Mercedes turns and begins walking along a narrow trail winding through the rocks. Her movements are fluid, almost dance-like, each step measured and deliberate.]
“This place? It’s seen centuries of storms, earthquakes, and time itself. Still standing. Just like me. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. Unforgettable. That’s what you’re up against, Lilith. Not just another opponent, but a force of nature.”
[Her smile fades, replaced by a steely glare that could cut through stone. She taps the championship belt twice, the metal ringing sharply.]
“Lilith, I see you. I see the way you try to get inside people’s heads, twist the narrative, make them doubt themselves. You want to know what real power looks like? It’s not hiding in the shadows. It’s standing in the open, letting the world see you, flaws and all, and daring them to try and take you down. So, Lilith, when you step into the ring with me, you’re stepping into the truth. No shadows, no secrets, just you and me and the whole world watching.”
[She strolls along the path, her stride confident, her gaze unwavering. The wind picks up, swirling her hair around her face, but she doesn’t miss a beat.]
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my career—arrogant, relentless, even impossible. But you know what I’ve never been called? Afraid. I don’t need to play tricks or hide behind smoke and mirrors. I walk into every battle with my head held high, because I know who I am. I know what I’ve done. And I know what I’m about to do to you.”
[She traces her fingers over the championship plate, her expression softening for a moment.]
“This title? It’s more than gold and leather. It’s proof. Proof that hard work pays off. That heart matters. That no matter how many times they try to count you out, you get back up. You fight. You win.”
[Mercedes stops at the base of a massive rock spire, placing her hand against the ancient stone. She closes her eyes for a moment, drawing strength from the earth itself.]
"Maybe you’ll surprise me, Lilith. Maybe you’ll last longer than the rest. But when the dust settles, you’ll learn why they say Latinas do it better."
[Mercedes pauses at the edge of the trail. The fading light catches the gold of her championship belt. She turns, her gaze sharp and direct, as if she can see Lilith Locke standing right there among the ancient stones.]
“This is my time. My mountain. My moment. And there’s not a shadow in this world big enough to block out my shine. So bring your best, bring your worst. Bring your darkness, your parlor tricks, your nightmares, Lilith. Because when you step to me, you step into the light. And I’m the brightest light this business has ever seen.
“So when the dust settles and the shadows fade, the only thing left will be my name—carved in stone, shining in the sun, echoing through these mountains. Mercedes Vargas. The one who does it better. The one who does it best.”
[Mercedes stops at a natural arch, the red stone framing her like a doorway to something greater. She stands tall, shoulders back, chin lifted.]
“You want a throne, Lilith? You want a crown? You’ll have to climb higher than you ever have before. And up here, the air’s a little thin for pretenders. Up here, there’s nowhere to hide and no shortcuts—just a view you only get if you’ve earned it. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
[She turns, facing the camera with a look that’s equal parts challenge and invitation.]
“You’re not just facing a champion—you’re facing the altitude, the pressure, and the weight of expectation. I hope you’re ready to breathe rarefied air, because only the strongest survive at this elevation.”
[Mercedes pauses at the edge of a narrow ledge, the drop below revealing a sprawling vista of pine forests and distant mountain peaks. She looks down for a moment, then back up with a sly smile.]
“Take it all in, Lilith. This is what the top looks like. Most people just visit—very few stay. It’s a long way down, and trust me—the fall is unforgettable. When you lose your footing, don’t worry, the landing is soft… for everyone but me."
[She opens her eyes, fire burning in them.]
“I hope you packed more than riddles and run-ins for this trip, because you’re about to find out what it means to stand in the presence of greatness. And when you’re left picking up the pieces, remember: you asked for this.”
[She turns, facing the horizon as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and reds.]
“See you soon, Lilith. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. And may the odds be ever in your favor.”
[***Fade***]
semana del 9 al 15 de junio de 2025
How do you like me now?
Last week, I did what legends do—I retained the Bombshell Internet Championship, against the very woman who thought she could take this title from me. Bella Madison showed up, talked a big game, but when the bell rang? Reality hit hard. And spoiler alert: I’m still standing, still shining, still the one everyone’s chasing in this division.
You see, some people come back with all kinds of excuses—“what ifs,” “almosts,” and “destinies” that never quite pan out. But last week wasn’t about stories or second chances. It was about proving who belongs at the top. And I proved it. Again.
Last time, Bella said I caught her on a bad night. Honey, I catch people on their best nights, their worst nights, and every night in between. That’s what happens when you’re the standard—when you’re Mercedes Vargas. Let’s see what kind of excuse she invents now, after being humiliated twice in three weeks. She claimed she was coming for me with nothing left to lose. Well, I took her title, her pride, and her last shred of respect—and crushed it all under my stilettos.
Transitional champion? You’re damn right. I am the transition—the before, the after, and the always. I’m the bridge from forgettable to legendary. I’m the trend. I’m the headline. I’m the legacy everyone else is chasing. I paved the road she’s stumbling down, and last week, I reminded her exactly who’s in charge.
She wants to talk fate? Fate didn’t put her in the ring with me, and it sure as hell didn’t save her from the beating I delivered. And when she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the lights, she remembered and realized fate wasn’t her enemy — it just wasn’t on her side.
I’ve crushed Bella’s dreams, silenced her excuses, and now it’s time to turn my attention to the next in line. Because when you’re at the top, there’s always someone else coming for your crown. This week, it’s Lilith Locke.
Let's not pretend you’re the first to try and make a name for yourself at my expense, Lilith. Every few months, someone new creeps out of the shadows, convinced they’re the one to finally crack the code. They all come in with their own flavor of bravado—some loud, some mysterious, some just desperate for attention. You? You prefer the mysterious route. The cryptic tweets, the dramatic entrances, the way you linger in the background just long enough to make people wonder. I’ll admit, it’s a cute gimmick.
You call yourself the “Queen of Shadows,” as if hiding in the dark ever scared anyone. I’ve seen shadows before—they vanish the second the lights hit. And I am the brightest, most blinding light this division has ever seen. I’m the history-maker, the standard-bearer, the name etched on every accolade, every championship, every milestone that matters.
Some wrestlers build their legacies on moments; others, like me, build them on milestones. You’ve had your moments, Lilith—those flashes of brilliance, those “did you see that?” nights that get people talking. But when the dust settles, and the division needs a champion to carry it forward, they don’t look for the one who hides in the shadows. They look for the one who’s always there, week in and week out, setting the standard. Funny how that works, isn’t it?
You know, Lilith, it’s almost poetic how you’ve managed to build a name for yourself by being unpredictable. People talk about you like you’re some unsolvable riddle, a puzzle that no one’s managed to crack. But here’s a little secret—mystery only gets you so far. Eventually, the lights come on, the curtain falls, and the audience sees the act for what it is. And when that happens, all that’s left is what you can actually do in the ring. But let’s get real for a second. Last Sunday, you didn’t just try to make a statement—you took a cheap shot. Attacking me from behind? That’s not the move of a queen, or even a contender. You're just a girl, not yet a woman. That’s the act of someone who knows she can’t win face to face. We're going to be face to face this time. You will not make an example of me. You will not bully me. And you are certainly not going to sneak up on me again, mamita. You sent a message you say? No, no, no. You DISRESPECTED an SCW Hall of Famer. You know what I do with disrespect? I light a fire up under your ass.
I've been watching you for a while now. You move through this division like a rumor—whispered about, never quite proven, always lurking just out of sight. There’s a certain charm to that, I suppose.
Some people are content to be the question mark in the story, the mystery that never quite gets solved. I, on the other hand, prefer to be the headline everyone remembers. I’ll give you this—you’re talented. But you’re stepping into my world now. You bring chaos, I bring order. You play games? I end careers. When the bell rings, all the darkness you hide behind won’t save you. You’re not facing just another opponent—you’re facing Mercedes Vargas, and that means you’re facing the end of your story and the beginning of another chapter in mine.
So, Lilith, when you step into the ring with me, you’re stepping into the harshest truth of your career. No shadows, no secrets, just you—exposed, outclassed, and outmatched. The whole world will be watching as I tear down your illusions and leave you broken in the spotlight.
Because when it’s all said and done, the only thing anyone will remember is that you stood across from greatness—and the only shadow you’ll see is the one I cast as I walk away, champion as always, leaving you in the wreckage.
See you in the ring, Lilith. Try not to disappear before the lights go out.
~~~
L O S A N G E L E S • C A L I F O R N I A
INT. LOCAL DINER – EVENING
[The neon sign outside the local diner flickers, casting a restless blue glow through the window and onto the worn linoleum floors. It’s the kind of place where the coffee is always hot, the waitresses know your name, and the booths have seen more secrets than most confessionals. Mercedes Vargas sits in a battered booth near the back, her championship belt tucked securely in her gym bag at her side. She traces the rim of her coffee mug with a tired finger, eyes distant, caught somewhere between the present and the next match.
[A waitress—MARLENE, late 50s, with a kind smile—passes by, topping off Mercedes’ coffee.]
MARLENE
Rough night, champ?
[Mercedes offers a tired half-smile.]
MERCEDES
Just thinking, Marlene. Thanks.
[Marlene gives her a knowing wink, wipes a spot on the table, and moves on.]
[The bell over the door jingles. Ricardo enters, shaking off rain, runs a hand through his hair, and slides into the booth across from Mercedes. He sets his phone down, eyes the gym bag.]
RICARDO:
You know, if you keep winning, you’re gonna need a bigger bag.
[Irma arrives, umbrella in one hand, phone in the other. She drops the umbrella, flicks raindrops off her sleeve, and slides in beside Ricardo.]
IRMA:
You’re trending again. Half the comments think you’re invincible, the other half think Lilith’s gonna end your reign. Gotta love the internet.
[Hugo enters calmly, folds his umbrella, hangs coat, and sits beside Mercedes, placing a notepad on the table.]
HUGO
Mercedes, you look like you could use a vacation.
[The door swings open again. Tomas bursts in, drenched and grinning, bakery box in hand. He slides in beside Irma, nudging her as he sets the box on the table. They settle in, some offering tired smiles, others simply grateful to be off their feet. For a moment, silence and the scent of coffee and fried food mingles with the low hum of conversation from the other booths and a jukebox playing.]
TOMAS
I brought pie! Figured if Mer’s carrying gold, the least I can do is bring dessert.
[The group laughs. Marlene brings over extra plates and napkins, setting them down with a wink. Irma opens the box, Tomas hands out slices, and Ricardo immediately snags a fork.]
MARLENE
On the house tonight. You all look like you could use it.
[They thank her. For a moment, the group settles, the only sound the rain tapping the glass and the sizzle from the kitchen. Mercedes stares out the window, her voice low and thoughtful when she finally breaks the quiet.]
MERCEDES:
Funny thing about being on top—nobody tells you how lonely it gets. You win, you shine, but you also paint a target on your back.
[Ricardo leans forward, grabbing a chipped mug and wrapping his hands around it as if to warm himself. He glances at Mercedes, then at the belt.]
RICARDO:
That’s the price, right? I caught Lilith’s promo. She’s not just coming for your title, Mer. She wants your whole legacy.
[Irma’s tone is dry, almost biting. She taps her phone, then sets it face-down, crossing her arms.]
IRMA:
Legacy’s a funny word. Bella Madison wanted it too. Now she’s just another name on the list.
[She rolls her eyes, reaching for a slice of pie.]
IRMA:
Half these challengers talk big until they’re flat on their back. Social media’s already moved on.
[Hugo nods, his voice quiet but steady.]
HUGO:
You made her tap, Mercedes. But Lilith—she plays a different game. Shadows, mind tricks. She’s not like the rest.
[Mercedes manages a half-smile, though her eyes betray her exhaustion.]
MERCEDES:
Shadows only work if you’re scared of the dark. I’ve fought monsters, queens, ghosts from my own past. I’m still here. Still the one they chase.
[Tomas grins, trying to lighten the mood. He waves his fork for emphasis.]
TOMAS:
If I had that belt, I’d use it to skip the line at the bakery. Or at least get free pie. Maybe scare off the bill collectors. You ever think about just wearing it everywhere, Mer? Like, to the grocery store?
[The group chuckles. Ricardo sneaks a bite of Tomas’s pie; Irma nudges him.]
IRMA
You’d just get frosting on it.
[Mercedes’s smile fades. She pushes pie with her fork, voice soft.]
MERCEDES:
It’s not the gold that weighs you down. It’s the eyes. The ones waiting for you to fall. Every week, someone new wants to make a name off me. But I’m still here, still shining.
[She glances up, catching Irma’s supportive smile and reaches across the table, her touch gentle but firm. Ricardo drums his fingers on the table, lost in thought. In the background, a waitress refills their coffee, pausing to offer Mercedes a knowing nod.]
IRMA
You’re not alone, Mer. Out there, maybe. But here? You got us. I’ll bring the snacks. And the first aid kit.
[Ricardo nods in agreement, tapping his mug.]
RICARDO:
I’ll bring the hype. Remind you who you are when the lights get too bright.
[Hugo offers a reassuring smile.]
HUGO:
I’ll keep you grounded. Remind you to breathe.
[Tomas smirks.]
TOMAS:
And I’ll make sure you never take yourself too seriously. Someone’s gotta keep you honest.
[Mercedes looks at each of them, gratitude flickering in her eyes. She takes a breath, the weight on her shoulders a little lighter.]
MERCEDES:
In the ring, it’s just me and whoever wants my spot. But out here? I got a team. That’s how you survive. That’s how you win.
[They raise their mugs in a silent toast, the clink of ceramic a quiet promise to face the battles ahead—inside the ring and out—together.]
[Hugo glances at his watch and grins, stretching his arms.]
HUGO:
Speaking of battles, did you guys catch the game last night? That final play was insane.
[Irma smirks, shaking her head, tucking her phone away.]
IRMA:
You and your sports. I swear, you’d talk football all day if you could.
[Hugo chuckles, reaching for another slice of pie.]
HUGO
Better than wrestling promos.
[Tomas laughs, mouth full, nearly dropping his fork.]
TOMAS
Hey, maybe next time we bring in some sports talk. Mix it up a little.
[Mercedes laughs, the tension finally breaking.]
MERCEDES:
Only if you promise not to steal my spotlight.
[The group settles into easy conversation, the moment shifting from the weight of titles and legacies to the simple joy of friendship.]
HUGO:
Speaking of spotlights, you all are still coming to The Floating Penalty Box this weekend, right? I need honest opinions on the new menu—plus, I could use some help bailing out Tomas if he gets seasick again.
[Tomas groans, shaking his head, waving his fork.]
TOMAS:
It was one time, Hugo. One choppy night, and you’ll never let me live it down.
[Irma grins, nudging Tomas.]
IRMA:
You know he’s got that story laminated and ready for every new customer. “Welcome aboard, did I ever tell you about the time Hugo turned greener than my guacamole?”
[Ricardo laughs, brushing crumbs off his shirt.]
RICARDO:
I’m just glad you finally fixed the leak near table three. Last time I ate there, I thought I was going to need a life jacket with my burger.
[Tomas holds up his hands defensively, then grabs another napkin.]
HUGO:
Hey, it’s all part of the nautical charm. Where else can you get fish tacos and the thrill of possibly going overboard?
[Mercedes grins, reaching for another slice of pie, the tension of earlier forgotten.]
MERCEDES:
Honestly, Hugo, The Floating Penalty Box is the only place I know where you can order a “Powerbomb Platter” and have to duck when the mast swings by. You’ve got style, I’ll give you that.
[Hugo beams with pride, jotting something in his notepad.]
HUGO:
Not just dinner, an experience. Wait till you try the “Submission Sundae.” Three scoops, hot fudge, and a little umbrella—because you’ll need shade after tapping out.
[Irma laughs, shaking her head, sipping her coffee.]
IRMA:
If your food doesn’t finish us, that dessert will. But I’ll be there. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t poison the whole harbor.
[Hugo sets his mug down and leans back, a sly smile spreading across his face. Outside, the rain has stopped, and the neon sign glows steady.]
MERCEDES:
Wouldn't miss it for the world. After this week, I could use a night where the only thing I have to wrestle is a crab cake.
[The group laughs, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. Marlene passes by, topping off their coffee one last time as the camera pulls back, the diner a warm island of light in the rainy night.]
[END]
~~~
Present Day ♦ C O L O R A D O S P R I N G S • C O L O R A D O
[REC•]
[The sun is just beginning to set, casting a golden glow across the towering red rock formations of Garden of the Gods. The wind stirs, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Mercedes Vargas stands atop a boulder, her championship belt slung over her shoulder, her posture regal and commanding. She’s dressed in a sleek, form-fitting jacket with bold, gold accents, and her hair catches the fading light, shimmering with every confident move.
[She surveys the landscape, the city of Colorado Springs visible in the distance, the mountains standing sentinel behind her. A few hikers pause nearby, drawn by her undeniable presence, but Mercedes pays them no mind. She’s focused, magnetic, and ready to speak her truth.
Mercedes takes a slow, deliberate step forward, boots crunching on the gravel. She raises her chin, her expression a blend of challenge and allure. She inhales deeply, grounding herself in the moment, before turning her gaze directly forward, as if locking eyes with her opponent miles away.]
“Lilith Locke, I hope you’re watching. Because this—”
[She sweeps her arm out, gesturing to the ancient, unyielding rocks.]
“—this is where legends stand tall. This is where the earth itself remembers every step, every battle, every victory. And come Sunday, it’s going to remember mine.”
[She paces along the edge of the boulder, her movements fluid and purposeful, every bit the superstar. Her voice is smooth, sultry, and sharp—her signature charisma woven into every syllable.]
“You call yourself the Queen of Shadows. Cute, really. But shadows only matter when no one’s watching. When the sun rises, shadows vanish—and baby, I am the sun. I don’t hide in the dark—I set the world on fire. I don’t whisper threats—I make promises. And I always keep them.”
[Mercedes pauses, letting her words hang in the air. She runs a hand along the championship belt, her nails glinting.]
“You want to play mind games? Honey, I invented the game, and then I changed the rules. I’ve stared down monsters, toppled queens, and rewritten history. I’m not just a champion—I’m the standard. The blueprint. The reason every woman in this company dreams a little bigger, fight a little harder, and believe that maybe, just maybe, they could one day reach my level. But let’s be honest, there is only one Mercedes Vargas, and the rest are just trying to keep up."
[She descends from the boulder with a graceful leap, landing lightly on the path below. A group of tourists glance over, sensing the energy radiating from her. Mercedes flashes a dazzling, knowing smile.]
“You see, Lilith, you think you’re going to walk into my world and turn it upside down. You think you’re going to haunt me, rattle me, break me. But let me remind you: I don’t break. I bend the rules, I set the pace, and I always—always—come out on top. You think you can shake the foundation I’ve built? Sorry to break it to you, mamita, but this isn’t just a foundation—it’s bedrock. Built on everything you wish you had and everything you’ll never take from me.”
[Mercedes leans in slightly, her eyes narrowing with a knowing smirk.]
"You know what I love about challengers like you, Lilith? You come in thinking you’re a mystery, a riddle no one can solve. But I’ve cracked codes tougher than yours before breakfast. All that darkness you wrap yourself in? It’s just a curtain, and I’m about to pull it back for the world to see. When the lights are brightest and the pressure’s at its peak, that’s when I do my best work. That’s when the truth comes out—and the truth is, most can’t handle it. You’re stepping into a spotlight that burns hotter than you’re used to. Let’s see if you melt, or if you even make it long enough to cast a shadow."
[Mercedes turns and begins walking along a narrow trail winding through the rocks. Her movements are fluid, almost dance-like, each step measured and deliberate.]
“This place? It’s seen centuries of storms, earthquakes, and time itself. Still standing. Just like me. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. Unforgettable. That’s what you’re up against, Lilith. Not just another opponent, but a force of nature.”
[Her smile fades, replaced by a steely glare that could cut through stone. She taps the championship belt twice, the metal ringing sharply.]
“Lilith, I see you. I see the way you try to get inside people’s heads, twist the narrative, make them doubt themselves. You want to know what real power looks like? It’s not hiding in the shadows. It’s standing in the open, letting the world see you, flaws and all, and daring them to try and take you down. So, Lilith, when you step into the ring with me, you’re stepping into the truth. No shadows, no secrets, just you and me and the whole world watching.”
[She strolls along the path, her stride confident, her gaze unwavering. The wind picks up, swirling her hair around her face, but she doesn’t miss a beat.]
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my career—arrogant, relentless, even impossible. But you know what I’ve never been called? Afraid. I don’t need to play tricks or hide behind smoke and mirrors. I walk into every battle with my head held high, because I know who I am. I know what I’ve done. And I know what I’m about to do to you.”
[She traces her fingers over the championship plate, her expression softening for a moment.]
“This title? It’s more than gold and leather. It’s proof. Proof that hard work pays off. That heart matters. That no matter how many times they try to count you out, you get back up. You fight. You win.”
[Mercedes stops at the base of a massive rock spire, placing her hand against the ancient stone. She closes her eyes for a moment, drawing strength from the earth itself.]
"Maybe you’ll surprise me, Lilith. Maybe you’ll last longer than the rest. But when the dust settles, you’ll learn why they say Latinas do it better."
[Mercedes pauses at the edge of the trail. The fading light catches the gold of her championship belt. She turns, her gaze sharp and direct, as if she can see Lilith Locke standing right there among the ancient stones.]
“This is my time. My mountain. My moment. And there’s not a shadow in this world big enough to block out my shine. So bring your best, bring your worst. Bring your darkness, your parlor tricks, your nightmares, Lilith. Because when you step to me, you step into the light. And I’m the brightest light this business has ever seen.
“So when the dust settles and the shadows fade, the only thing left will be my name—carved in stone, shining in the sun, echoing through these mountains. Mercedes Vargas. The one who does it better. The one who does it best.”
[Mercedes stops at a natural arch, the red stone framing her like a doorway to something greater. She stands tall, shoulders back, chin lifted.]
“You want a throne, Lilith? You want a crown? You’ll have to climb higher than you ever have before. And up here, the air’s a little thin for pretenders. Up here, there’s nowhere to hide and no shortcuts—just a view you only get if you’ve earned it. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
[She turns, facing the camera with a look that’s equal parts challenge and invitation.]
“You’re not just facing a champion—you’re facing the altitude, the pressure, and the weight of expectation. I hope you’re ready to breathe rarefied air, because only the strongest survive at this elevation.”
[Mercedes pauses at the edge of a narrow ledge, the drop below revealing a sprawling vista of pine forests and distant mountain peaks. She looks down for a moment, then back up with a sly smile.]
“Take it all in, Lilith. This is what the top looks like. Most people just visit—very few stay. It’s a long way down, and trust me—the fall is unforgettable. When you lose your footing, don’t worry, the landing is soft… for everyone but me."
[She opens her eyes, fire burning in them.]
“I hope you packed more than riddles and run-ins for this trip, because you’re about to find out what it means to stand in the presence of greatness. And when you’re left picking up the pieces, remember: you asked for this.”
[She turns, facing the horizon as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and reds.]
“See you soon, Lilith. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. And may the odds be ever in your favor.”
[***Fade***]