Blog: Almighty Fire
semana del 22 al 29 de abril 2 0 1 8
Another Sunday, another Climax Control and where do I find myself this week? In the main event, as I should be. Mercedes Vargas, the only one in Sin City Wrestling who can claim the title of #ChampionofChampions, gets her first championship match of 2018 and I’m pretty excited. Sunday, I get to do what I do best under the bright lights and on the biggest stage. I’m no stranger to game changing matches or significant moments and I was making history before making history became a thing. I’m like the Los Angeles La – No, the Boston Celtics of SCW. So it’s no surprise to me that I have a golden opportunity in front of me and I intend to make it count against Crystal and Diamond.
Everyone knows that Crystal Hilton is a two-time World Bombshell Champion, but something you should know is her first reign never should have really happened. And I think it’s relevant because we’re in Blast From the Past season. The rules clearly state that the winners of the mixed tag team tournament get their title shots at the next supercard. Now, let’s take this back two years ago. It’s 2016, Crystal and Despayre won the tournament at Blaze of Glory. One month has come and gone and now it’s Into the Void. It’s the World Bombshell Championship match. I was the champion at the time; you had Sam Marlowe who I beat for the title due to Crystal and her then-husband’s shenanigans, and then Crystal herself. Just as a reminder, this would be her World Bombshell Championship title opportunity. Anyway, long story short, Sam won the match and the title, my reign was over, and Crystal and Despayre made history becoming the first pair of Blast From the Past Tournament winners to fail to win the Bombshell and World Heavyweight Championship, respectively. But a funny thing happened along the way to the milestone 150th Climax Control.
Crystal got a rematch for the title against Sam Marlowe, and I was left out in the cold. Let me repeat that: Crystal Hilton, who got pinned by Sam Marlowe two weeks earlier, got a rematch for the title because Christian Underwood believed that she deserved a one-on-one match. Well, correct if I’m wrong - and I’m rarely am - but Brandi Shotze never got a rematch when Delia Darling screwed her out of her title match against Electra Styles four years ago. The closest thing I ever got to a one-on-one rematch was four months after I lost the Bombshell Title, but the match wasn’t against Sam. It was against Crystal. Granted, she won, I won’t deny that, but in the grand scheme of things, her reign lasting 200-plus days is 200-plus days too long.
I think I’m Crystal’s kryptonite. I’m the worst possible matchup she can ask for.
Except, she didn’t ask for this.
I’ve already beaten her three weeks in a row this month alone in one company. God, I hate for that to continue Sunday night because while she hates having to hear, I love repeating it. And if Sunday sees me beat her again then she should just hang up her training bra and boots and call it a career. Crystal knows all too well that I’m a threat to her title. I’m a threat to any Bombshell holding a title right now, from the World Bombshell Champion right on down the pipe line. Adding Diamond to the match makes it worst for her. I’m not the one who acted like an idiot and attacked her because reasons. And Crystal won the Bombshell Internet Championship by luck, or maybe the decision was only made for shock value, and if I’m not walking out of Climax Control 203 with gold around my waist, then Diamond will regain the title.
That isn’t to say Crystal isn’t a great competitor because she is. She rose through the ranks of SCW just like I did. She’s slayed the likes of Mikah, Melody Grace and Sam Marlowe (who, as a reminder, have been World Bombshell Champions themselves in SCW). She won the Bombshell Roulette Championship before the age of 30. She was voted the 2016 Most Improved and Woman of the Year. She’s a Blast From the Past Tournament Winner. She even went on to win the first-ever Summer XXXtreme Bombshell main event in history in the Chamber of Fate match. And she’s held on to the World Bombshell Championship a combined 273 days when you consider her two reigns. Odds are she’ll probably go on some tangent on being disrespected again or why no one speaks of her accolades, but it’s true. But while it took me four months to win my first title, Crystal didn’t win her first until nine months after her debut. While I have gone on to become only the third female Grand Slam Champion in history, not to mention a three-time World Bombshell Tag Team Champion, she won that championship a grand total of never. Never mind the only way she wins the Grand Slam now is going for the new tag titles coming into the company.
I may not remember the results of every match involving Crystal Hilton, though she sure loves calling me a stat book now and again, but I DO remember what she did on Sunday nights: fall short of expectations. The night she defended the Bombshell Roulette Championship at Mayhem in Morocco, she lost it on the same night, to Keira Fisher, of all people. Her foolproof plan to take the World Bombshell Championship off of me at Into the Void in 2016 blew up in her face when Sam Marlowe pinned her that night. She lost the World Bombshell Championship at Summer XXXtreme last year after a 56-day reign.
There’s a difference between those who are great, and those who claim to be. Crystal might be enough of a “Silver Screen Queen” to warrant attention and all the praise, but the match results scream anything but royalty. She’s proven in her career that she can’t compete under pressure. She can’t come through in the clutch or in crucial moments. You only need to look at how she faired against Evie Baang for that. She practically didn’t show up. When it came time to prove she was the best woman in SCW, when her fans needed her most, she failed to stand and deliver. She needed to win the non-title matches. She couldn’t do it. And most anybody remembers of that 200-plus first reign was her disappearing acts and her sudden case of bad Tex-Mex or whatever. Her second reign, she played the victim card and surrounded herself with enablers because everybody already figured out she was a god-awful champion.
In another universe, being a former two-time World Bombshell Champion and Roulette Champion, it should be she and I – not Amy Marshall or Jessie Salco – who should be claiming the title for most championships. Her three titles don’t even scratch the surface. She can win the titles, and maybe she becomes a different person when she actually has gold, but as we’ve come to know by now, it really doesn’t matter.
Just as it won’t matter Sunday.
Whether Crystal wants to show up in Sparks, Nevada or send in her alter ego makes no difference to me. Look at her, trying herr best to act all modest and everything, it’s almost cute. The thing is, if that was herr best attempt in trying to convince me, she sure isn't doing a good job of it. I don’t think anyone isn’t being fooled here. She was more believable when she masqueraded under a mask for two months. You remember La Paloma, right? “The Dove”? Unlike Crystal, I don't have to worry about having an identity crisis. I know who I am. What you see is what you get. No more, no less.
Crystal or Christina or Supercalifragilisticexpialidocius, is going to be in for a long night and a lonely flight. So, if it’s Crystal Hilton: Paparazzi princess. Sassy socialite. Star of stage and screen. The legend, icon, and household name in professional wrestling, then I hope that her girlfriend will be ready to comfort her at home with some ice packs, Netflix, Ben & Jerry’s and a good cry because I’m about to embarrassing her again this month. And if it’s Mark Ward’s mild-mannered personal assistant, he might have to search for a new one. I don’t think he’ll mind much because I’ll be doing him and, well, SCW, a favor. Crystal’s Clark Kent charade isn’t fooling anybody because the bloom off this rose faded a long time ago. Whatever novelty act she’s got going on now is just a sad and pathetic attempt at keeping herself relevant. After all, who knows Crystal better than yours truly? Who has been a part of her career practically at every step of the way? There’s a reason why Crystal was hesitant trying to talk her way out of putting her title up against me.
Crystal knows me.
Crystal fears me.
Crystal can’t stop me.
And she’s not even going to try.
And if she does, she’s only going to fail.
She always used to say that perfection never fails. I was always taught that Perfection is never real and Reality is never perfect, but if there's anyone who has perfected the art of failing, nobody does it better than Crystal Hilton.
Her days as champion are numbered, so she'd better enjoy it while it last.
~ ~ ~
The Excuse or The Reason
Present Day • L A S V E G A S • N E V A D A
As our scene opens, we hear the short sound of a janitor's cart being pushed on a glossy floor. The camera pulls back and we see a janitor hard at work, whistling a tune as he is hard at work long after hours. He dips the rag mop twice in a bucket filled with cloudy water, rinses, and goes over the same area using a figure 8 motion. As he roams backstage a small voice calls out to him.
Mercedes: Hey...
Mercedes sat with her back against the door of the women's locker room a few feet away from where Jimmy stood, looking up at her.
Mercedes: You missed a spot.
She kept her head down and her wavy, dark brunette hair fell into her face as Jimmy bears down on the mop and scrubs at the spot and then walks past her.
Jimmy Turner: You staying late again, Vargas?
Mercedes briefly looks up.
Mercedes: How did you know my name?
Janitor: I've been here for the last five years.
He wrings the mop as he smiles.
Jimmy Turner: I know where all the bodies are buried. They call me Jimmy Turner, Sanitation Specialist.
He extends his hand to introduce himself. Mercedes doesn't even move to accept the handshake.
Mercedes: I would shake your hand, but I don't know where they've been. Sorry.
Jimmy leads the cart elsewhere as the mop touches the floor again.
Jimmy: Tough loss out there tonight, huh?
Mercedes: What do you care? You're only a janitor.
Jimmy: I'll have you know that I also competed in the ring.
Mercedes: Is that right?
Mercedes chuckles.
Mercedes: Now why do I find that hard to believe? You, a wrestler?
Mercedes looks him up and down, shaking her head at the bulge that was his gut.
Mercedes: What did you do to your opponents, big boy, eat them alive?
Jimmy: It's true! Being a wrestler, I mean.
Mercedes: Sure, Jimmy. Whatever you say.
Mercedes again shakes her head as she stands up and starts to leave.
Mercedes: Anyone who dared to face you must have really been a glutton for punishment. And you got a face only a mother could love. Too bad she too hates it.
Jimmy looks sad as Mercedes realizing that she may have gone too far.
Mercedes: Looks like I went below the belt, there. Oops, (covers her face in embarrassment) I did it again.
Jimmy sighs as he gets back to work.
Jimmy: It's alright. You're still upset after your match.
Mercedes: No. No, it isn't. I had no right to talk to you that way. I'm sorry.
Jimmy: Don't worry about it. You're not the first to poke fun at me, and you sure won't be the last.
Mercedes: Really, I didn't mean anything I said.
Jimmy: It's not like I haven't tried to go on a diet. I've tried them all. South Beach. Mediterranean. Onion. Well, that one, I lost none of the weight...and all of my friends.
Mercedes: Aww...you poor thing. How about a hug?
Jimmy goes eagerly towards her, but Mercedes stops him with an outstretch of her arm.
Mercedes: I think that's close enough.
• • •
A ceiling fan spins lazily above her, barely able to bring air into the bedroom. Disheveled and sans makeup, an exhausted Mercedes lays sprawled across the bed covering her eyes with her arms. It’s been another one of those months; Crossing back and forth between three time zones, being told twelve hours before a show that a promotion closed down, suffering an injury that could possibly set her back in the next matches in the few days to follow. If April showers brought May flowers which was quite possible in the realistic sense, she was still waiting for the rain this month but how long this drought would last remains to be seen.
Mercedes uncovers her eyes and sits up, only to fall back against the pillows and groans in annoyance. As long as she had the rest of her roadtrip to carry out, there won't be any sleep-ins anytime soon. She slowly sits up, yawning, and raises her arms up stretching. Turning to her nightstand, she glances at the alarm clock. It read 11:40. Eight more hours then she really needed, but a godsend if she wanted to end this trip at least with her sanity intact. Six matches down, only one more to go this month. Saving the best for last, she hoped she had enough to even give her best this weekend at Climax Control. Championship matches come far and few, but Mercedes has been spoiled rotten with plenty over the years. Not because she begged for them; rather she had proven herself to earn every one. If she wanted to walk out of another main event with gold around her waist – and making history as she’s wonts to do – then she knew that she had better get back to championship form.
The Blast From the Past Tournament was a failure, though it was no fault of her own. It did it really matter in the end. She was one-and-done just like the other eliminated teams now forced to watch the tournament like everyone else. For the most part, Mercedes at least had other distractions, but SCW's main event was on top of her to-do list.
Despite her shortcomings two weeks ago, she had two choices.
She can make it an excuse, or a reason to learn from it.
The choice was simple.
• • •
~ ~ ~
Blog: Reminder
semana del 22 al 29 de abril 2 0 1 8
You know, I used to think that when you found a group of people who liked you for being, well, you, that that friendship, that pact, that bond would last a lifetime.
How stupid could I be?
I used to think that “Best friends forever” were exactly just that, best friends forever. Someone you can confide in and hang out and talk with about whomever whatever whenever. Sure we don’t have to see each other every day and maybe we don’t talk often, but if you needed someone just to rant, they would drop everything and be there to lend an ear, or a shoulder, because that’s what BFFs do.
How stupid could I be?
There was I time where I thought joining a stable was the cool thing to do. Here I am, sharing common interests with like-minded people such as myself working towards a common goal. After all, that’s what all stables do. Mean Girls were the most iconic group in SCW. Even now, people still love to hate them. But what made it so great wasn’t just the name. No, it was the people behind it. Delia Darling was the world champion, Liz Smalls and Veronica Taylor thrived in the tag title scene and I was dominating the mid-card championship. Dare I say it, we were a pretty effective unit. But looking back, I also thought Mean Girls would never break up.
The stable already broke up twice since I was a part of it.
How stupid could I be?
Delia. Liz. Vero. Angie. Holly. Tessa. Mandy. Celelste.
You know their names.
You know their stories and legacies.
You know they’re no longer in SCW.
There’s just the one.
The last ex-Mean Girl standing and, let’s face it, maybe the most successful. Longevity in this company is hard to come by these days. They say 80 percent of success is showing up, right? It turns out that saying holds true in SCW, where you’re expected to compete night-in and night-out against the best in the world. Most people are lucky to make it their first match, much less their first week. Even few make it out of their first month. Every member of the Mean Girls have come and gone, and I’ve gone on to surpass them. Some have gone on to greener pastures, others have retired and disappeared into obscurity. And yet, here I am. Still standing, still winning and, yes, still talking
Ever since the Mean Girls broke up, I no longer have to be labeled as anyone’s lackey. I’m not the rah-rah girl or the person who made every loss look good with a reasonable explanation. I’m now as focused and competitive as I’ve ever been and I can succeed on my own terms. Crystal and Diamond are not facing the Mercedes Vargas: Mean Girl. They’re not facing Mercedes Vargas: Delia or Celeste’s lackey. No, they’re facing somebody entirely different. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m the #ChampionofChampions, the most decorated wrestler – not just Bombshell, but wrestler – in company history.
And Sunday won’t be an audition. It’s going to be a reminder.
It’s necessary.
~ ~ ~
Not Ready to Play Nice
Present Day • L A S V E G A S • N E V A D A
[REC•
Mercedes sits outside on the terrace of her Los Angeles residence. There was nothing to worry about other than the match in front of her in no less than forty-eight hours from now. Clarity. Nothing to cloud her mind like tournament losses or her detractors and naysayers, opinions be damned, yet she seems pensive. She takes a deep breath and exhales before closing her eyes, then opens them. Alone with her thoughts, she looks into the distance, on either side, straitens hair. She shields her eyes away from the horizontal glare of the sunlight, then begins to speak, as if realizing that the camera is there catching her reflective moment.
“So we meet again. Somehow, Crystal, I knew we would. Like a meth addict, the fans can’t get enough. We’ve ran at each other, been at each other’s throat so many times that it’s kinda ironic that we’d end up paired against each other this weekend. Yeah, I said on Twitter not too long ago that I hope that we didn’t have to face each other for a while since our trilogy of matches in Honor, but that’s neither here or there. So many times our paths have crossed over the years but this Sunday…”
Mercedes lowers her head, putting her chin into her folded hands. Her eyes shine in the light as she stares forward right into the on looking camera. She gives a faint smile before nodding her head slightly.
“This Sunday is going to be special. You know why it’s going to be special? – It’s going to be special? - Chrissie why don’t I just tell you why it’s going to be special? I get to become a ten-time champion."
Mercedes shows ten fingers and smiles again..
"And we compete in our 50th match together. Well, 42nd if you take away the right times we were teammates. But, yeah, you get my point. 50 matches. How did we get here? Sometimes I wonder that myself over the last nine years since this rivalry began because anyone who has followed our careers are probably wondering the same thing, but it seems like destiny wants us to fight forever and I’m telling myself when that’s ever going to end. Sunday, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove once again why I am that damn good, and all it takes is three seconds. Oh, I haven’t forgotten about Diamond now. I know she’s just rearing to go and get back at the title that was once yours, but to be fair, you caught her slipping. If you didn’t, pretty sure this triple threat wouldn’t be happening now, would it?"
She wags her finger at the camera matter-of-factly, then runs her fingers through her hair.
“Just goes to show how The Fallen have fallen in recent months that it’s entirely possible that the only reason Diamond is in this match is to remind us that she’s still on the roster. Don’t get me wrong, The Fallen are legendary. Rattle off the Bombshell Division’s biggest names and their name has to be in the top ten, at best. Raynin was here since Day One. Gothika was one of the original members here during the first ten shows. You just became a champion recently. How The Fallen aren’t in the Hall of Fame is beyond me, but that’s another story for another day. In less than forty-eight hours, pen will be put to paper and the newest chapter to my legacy will be written. And two new names will be added to my checklist. Guess who? That’s right, you and Diamond. And don’t worry, I did all the work for you. See?
As she said this, Mercedes presents her clipboard. We see that it's a brand new edition of her checklist. And with it, Crystal and Diamond’s names are written in cursive one under the another in red felt-tip marker. Mercedes makes it a point to point to said names with a manicured nail as she nods.
"Crystal and Diamond will be ready for me, the fans will be ready for me. Me? I won’t be ready to make nice.”
Mercedes lifts her head, she slowly and eerily turns to face the camera.
“What I will be is ready to make history. Again.”
Mercedes now speaks in Spanish, with her translation being highlighted.
"Estar preparado para lo peor, esperar lo mejor."
"Prepare for the worst, hope for the best."
She pauses for effect, lowering her voice just above a whisper.
"Y que la suerte está siempre en su favor.”
"And may the odds be ever in your favor."
***Fade***
