[Mercedes Vargas]

 S|C|E|N|E| 001
[ A R R I V A L S | A N D | D E P A R T U R E S]

Carmen meets Helen in her office. She has her back turned to her as she stares out of the window.

Carmen: Hi, Helen. It's Carmen. You wanted to se -

Helen: Shut the door and have a seat, Ms. Reyes.

Carmen closes the door quietly, then sits in an office chair against the wall, tightening her leather jacket. She stares at the tiled floor, as gray as the afternoon with a dull sky and threatening rain.

Carmen: It's a little chilly in here. Maybe you should turn down the A/C.

Helen: That's how I like it. Do you have a problem?

Carmen: No. No, it's fine.

Helen still has her back to her.

Helen: How long have you've been working for me?

Carmen: Well, before you fired me, it was 37 months now, give or take a few leap years.

Helen: I really didn't ask you here to be amused, Ms. Reyes.

Carmen: Sorry.

Helen: Describe yourself in three words.

Carmen: Dependable. Trustworthy. Driven.

Carmen wondered where this conversation was going. She glances at her watch.

Carmen: Look, Hel, I really need to get going. So unless there's a point to all this, I guess I'll be on my way. I'm leaving the room now.

Carmen heads to the door. As she places her hand on the door knob, a noise prompts her to turn around. Helen reaches for a white-tipped cane and taps it against the floor.

Carmen: The desk is to your right.

Helen finds it. She feels around until she grabs hold of an upholstered office chair and pulls it back before she sits down at her desk.

Helen: This conversation isn't over until I say it is. Sit down.

Carmen: What do you want from me?

Helen: Well, for starters, I wouldn't mind hearing an apology.

Carmen stares across the broad maple desk at Helen's dark blue eyes, piercing through her like a laser beam. Her face belies her age, 10 years younger than her 39.

Carmen: An apology?

Carmen moves away from the door. She stood defiantly, facing Helen.

Carmen: I think I'm the one owed an apology, Ms. Shepherd. I want my job back. Or else I'm taking you to court for wrongful termination and emotional distress.

Helen: Emotional distress? Never in my wildest dreams have I felt so hurt and embarrassed at the movies the other night. Did your cousin think she was being funny asking me if I get into silent films for free because I'm blind? She is the most obnoxious, rude person I've ever met!

Carmen: I'm sorry.

She stares at the floor.

Carmen: Her parents, my uncle and aunt, raised her better than to pick on the disabled. She was visiting from New York and was staying with me for a couple of weeks. I know she can be a handful, but don't you think it was a coincidence that we all were attending the same theater that night? You have to give me the benefit of the doubt. I don't think I should be fired for something so trivial.

Helen: I can fire you at any time for any reason.

Carmen looks up at her and answers in an even tone.

Carmen: Well, it's a pretty shitty one at best. I was never late. I was the first one in, and the last one out. I did your grocery shopping. Why are you like this, Helen? We've known each other since grade school. You know why I took this job?

Helen says nothing.

Carmen: I did this as a favor for your grandfather. And for you to sit there and fire me out of retaliation because of some misunderstanding is downright insulting. (pauses with a questioning gaze.) Need I go on?

Helen slams her fist on the desk and stood from her chair, her face flustered.

Helen: Don't you dare put this on me, Carmen! My grandfather was a five-star general, and even he had the common decency to treat others with respect. Did you forget how you got a free ride through UCLA? He paid for your tuition. You wouldn't even know the first verse of Sons of Westwood if it wasn't for him. Hiring you again would bring back bad memories, and that's the last thing I need right now.

There is a knock at the door before it opens and a woman enters. She was a lot younger than Carmen and wore her hair short. She eyes Carmen and offers her a genuine smile, then turns to Helen.

Kathryn: Ms. Shepherd, it's Kathryn.

Helen: Yes. What is it?

Kathryn: Your 4:15 is here.

Carmen: Well, good talk, Helen. You'll be hearing from my lawyer soon.

Kathryn: Do you want me to lead you to the door, Ms. Reyes?

Carmen: No, I'll see myself out, thank you.

• • •

S|C|E|N|E| 002
[S U S P E N S E]

Open on Mercedes walking out of a shopping center with shopping bags. She is talking on her cellphone as she returns to her car.

Mercedes: I mean, Delia's probably going to kill me when her statement comes in, but that credit card was calling me. Once you go black, you'll never go back.

Mercedes continues her conversation as she reaches her car, putting down her bags before she glances at the front of the car. A parking ticket is beneath the windshield. She shakes her head as it takes time for her reaction to catch up with her emotions as it turns from surprise to shock to quiet anger.

Mercedes: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!! Hey, are you home? Yeah, I just got a parking ticket. I’m going to have to call you back.

She gives the citation a glance before she rips it out from under the windshield wiper and slowly looks over it. The time on the ticket was 2:35 pm. Thirty minutes since she parked her car. It was also for $65 for illegal parallel parking. She glances around for the parking attendant but sees no one. Turning the ticket over, there is something written in bold letters on the backside.

Mercedes: Why did you do it?' Was the hell is that suppose to mean?

Shortly after, Mercedes starts up her car and pulls out of the parking lot in a squeal of tires.

Times passes as our scene shifts to a fancy restaurant later that evening. Mercedes is sitting across the table from her blind date. She is smiling and laughing and enjoying herself.

Date: So, tell me about yourself.

Mercedes: Well, I'm single. 35. Model, actress, and I kick people's asses for a living. Of course, that pales in comparison to being a DJ.

Date: It's not all it's cracked up to be. The crowd. Music has to be right. The occasional shootout, but, you know, comes with the territory. So, a professional wrestler, huh? Interesting. So, what's a pretty girl like you...

Mercedes: Doing in a male-dominated sport like that? Well, I've won more than I lost, and I have a couple of championships under my belt. You know, can't help being that good.

As the waitress comes around with the bill, the waitress chats it up with Mercedes's date. Reaching for the bill, Mercedes isn't too concerned with the pricing– just south of 100 dollars – but a message written far below the bill. The same message on the parking ticket: “Why did you do it?” The coincidence leaves Mercedes flummoxed as we're left with this scene before fading away...

Time passes, this time a few days later to Sunday. We find Mercedes decked out in New York Giants gear, wearing an Eli Manning jersey while watching the Giants-Texans game on her laptop.

Announcer: Eli in trouble...on the run...throws to his right to..VICTOR CRUZ....AND HE IS GONE! NOBODY IS GOING TO TOUCH HIM!

As per usual, number 80 does his famous salsa dance to the delight of the home crowd.

Announcer: TOUCHDOWN GIANTS! TOUCHDOWN VICTOR CRUZ! FREE SALSA FOR EVERYONE!

Mercedes is all smiles as she mimics the touchdown celebration. Suddenly, the laptop bleeps out, leaving her confused. She barely got on her laptop so the battery life wasn't the problem, the outlet was empty, so there was no accidents ripping out the power cord. Five seconds later, the laptop hums to life, followed by an eerie blue screen, shortly followed by a matrix-like pattern as letters and numbers rain down on the screen.

Grabbing her cellphone, she punches in a phone number, then brings the phone to her ear.

Mercedes:  Yes...I need to speak to Detective Walters, please. It's urgent....

Inside Precinct 17, we find a heavy-set officer behind his desk, absorbed in the sports pages of the New York Times. The phone rings three times before he picks up.

Kurt Walters: Officer Walters speaking.

Mercedes: Officer, it's happening again. The parking tickets, the dinner bill. My twitter account. Someone's is after me. I don't know who it is, but it's borderline stalking.

Officer Walters pays rapt attention as he jots down the information over the phone.

Kurt Walters: Ms. Vargas, don't panic. We've taken everything you told us into consideration and my team has been reviewing what you've told us. As it turns out, I think we've got your mole.

Mercedes: You do? Well what are you waiting for, an invitation? Spill it?

Kurt Walters: The mole is -

The phone line goes dead as Mercedes desperately tries to get back the officer, but gets a busy signal. The matrix than goes into binary code as a string of numbers appears on the screen.

Mercedes writes down the numbers as she sees them.

Mercedes: 23-8-25 4-9-4  25-152-2 4-15 9-20.

It finally make sense to her now as these numbers are of the alphabet. She writes them out, which reveals the hidden message.

Mercedes: Why did you do i?t! WHY DID YOU DO IT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?!

_______≈₪≈______

S|C|E|N|E| 003
[A B S O L U T I O N]


[REC•]

“You ever had one of those days where it seems no matter what you do, its not ever enough?”

Mercedes is sat on the steps of the quaint chapel.

“I mean, I get it. No good deed goes unpunished, but there has to be somebody who at least appreciates it. Two weeks ago, the Mean Girls did the unthinkable, we did the impossible, but let's face it, it was only inevitable. In the weeks leading up to Violent Conduct, I said that win, lose or draw, there would be no excuses – either for us or our opponents. But that's exactly what we've been hearing following the supershow. Since two Sundays ago, we haven't heard a peep from Vixen, who is probably sulking in her tent right about now. Amy Marshall had to go take care of some family emergency back in Juneau, Alaska, Jessie Salco...well, who knows with her? Someone told me she was at some karaoke bar singing a power ballad after costing her and Amy the tag titles, but don't quote me on that. And there is Necra, which I'll get to in a second.

“In the four-way survival match, Natalie's dreams were crushed, even more so since Violent Conduct II also happened to be her last match in SCW. I almost feel bad for her. Almost. Joanne Canelli...oh sure, she talked the talked, something we know all too well, but she couldn't walk the walk. I happened to do both, and have something to show for it. And then there's Necra. See, Necra falls in a special category because unlike Vixen and Amy and Jessie, she didn't exactly had to be pinned to lose her title. She just wasn't fast enough to retain it.”

She pauses.

“It's not my fault she has ADD.”

Well, that's one way to look at it, anyway. Mercedes was way too quick and took advantage of the situation before her. It wasn't her fault that the former champion wasn’t able to save her title hopes at Violent Conduct II. Nonetheless, Mercedes and Necra would be meeting in a return match, and this time there would be no excuses for Necra to make when she fails once again.

“And I see that look in your eyes, Necra. That faraway look that tells me that you think you're going to win back that title. Perhaps this is your Plan B, right? Maybe you thought, 'I didn't have to win the four-way when I can always beat Mercedes and get back the title I never should have lost.' Unfortunately, for you, sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out as much as we would like. Maybe you think this is even a mismatch. This is going to be as easy as, well, climbing a ladder?"

She shrugs and turns away.

“Well, unfortunately for you, that's not going to happen. And no, before you say anything, it's not because the Mean Girls have my back. You know as much as anybody that I am capable of taking care of you without their help, and I don't think you can name one time where I ever had to cheat in a match. It's no wonder you tabbed me as your most dangerous threat on the last Climax Control...you remember that time you stood in that ring and called somebody out but no one answered because they could care less? Right. In the countless matches we had, yes, you've had my number, yes you've climbed many a ladder and celebrated your victory, but it still didn't matter one bit, because at the end of the day, neither of us have a pinfall over the other. I'm hoping that the roulette wheel will change that. We need to know who is the better woman in that ring. I like to think I am, and you like to think that you are.”

She turns back with a huge smile.

“It's sad that you, just like the rest of the Jealous Janis, has to attribute my victory to luck, but then you would be absolutely right. It was a degree of luck why I'm holding this here title, and bad luck why you won't be winning it back anytime soon. I'm almost sure this is the same excuse you had when your first reign ended at Summer XXXtreme II. You remember that night right, Necra?..your fourth title defense?"

Mercedes pauses again, removing her trench coat and puts it across her lap.

“Tell me, was it luck that you lost to someone who wasn't even a part of SCW at the time? Was it luck that you lost to someone who lasted longer than a cup of coffee? I find it funny that the very title you claimed as worthless following that title match and defeated Emma for last supershow, is the same title you're going after for a fourth reign.”

Her tone is overly enthusiastic.

“I'm sure you stayed around for the rest of Violent Conduct II, yes? Did you think Delia was lucky that she won the Bombshell Championship, a title you have been chasing since forever now, or that Liz and Ronnie beat the MPC for the Bombshell Tag Titles, something that you want to claim for yourself for a second time? Necra, luck would mean I needed to cheat to win, luck would mean that the Mean Girls would need interference to help me win. Only problem is none of that happened. You lost in yet another multi-person match, and I know what you're thinking. It was a desperate attempt by SCW to have three opponents at once when you should have taken us down one by one.”

Blow off wave at the camera.

“But see, luck is a hell of a lot different than divine intervention, isn't it, Necra? My God? Oh, I've been praying to my God, alright. I pray everyday, and I'll be praying twice on Sunday. Praying that whatever I do to you this Sunday isn't going to result in me being behind bars, little girl. Tell you what, Necra. You bring your cryptic speeches and your nursery rhymes and your petty little death threats. Bring everything you got. And you best believe I will bring it and I will bring this.”

She holds up her title.

“But I won't be handing it over to you or leaving it at your feet. I'm walking in Bombshell Roulette Champion the same way I walked out of of Yuma, Arizona and will again Sunday night in St. Louis....STILL CHAMPION.

“Nothing will change at Climax Control 94. Misty WILL be put in her place when Veronica beats her, Delia WILL seek retribution for the night she had at the supershow, and I WILL be making history while you become a footnote. And when I beat you, that's it. It's over. You...are...done. I beat you, Cryptkeeper, and you're out of my hair for good. You'll just be another body, just another face in the crowd, and just another name on my checklist. After I beat you, you can go back to playing Magic the Gathering...Dungeons and Dragons...whatever it is you do in your free time. I'm sure it will be time well spent.”

She goes quiet again, a small chuckle as she slightly looks down before raising her head again at the camera.

“I guess it wouldn't hurt if I say a little prayer ahead of our match.”

Mercedes gazes into heaven.

“Father, forgive SCW, for they know not what they do. And forgive me for what I'm going to do to Necra Octavian Kane at Climax Control.”