Blog: Almighty Firesemana del 9 al 16 de febrero de 2025Wrestling isn’t just a sport. It’s a battlefield where your worth is measured by every win, every loss, every scar. And believe me, I’ve got plenty of all three. They used to call me “The Argentine Assassin,” “The Black Rose Bombshell.” Back then, those names meant something. They carried weight. They struck fear into my opponents and pride into my heart. But now? Now they’re just echoes of a past life. These days, people don’t even bother with the nicknames. They just call me washed up.
It hurts to hear it, but what hurts more is that sometimes... I almost believe them. Almost.
But they don’t see what I see when I look in the mirror. They don’t feel the fire that still burns inside me, even when the world tries to snuff it out. That fire has been my constant companion—through injuries, defeats, and the whispers behind my back. It’s still there, flickering, reminding me that I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot.
This isn’t just about proving them wrong anymore. Sure, I’d love to shut up the critics and the doubters—the ones who think I’m too old, too slow, too broken to matter in this business anymore. But this fight? It’s bigger than them. It’s about proving something to myself.
I need to know that I can still rise... even when the tides keep pulling me under. Because if I can’t rise now, when everything feels like it’s stacked against me, then what was all of this for? The years of sacrifice, the blood and sweat poured into every match, the nights spent nursing wounds both physical and emotional—it has to mean something.
Like I said, wrestling isn’t just a sport. It’s a battlefield where every match tells a story, and every rivalry leaves a mark. And if there’s one name that’s left its mark on me—both as an opponent and as a reminder of my own journey—it’s Crystal Zdunich.
Crystal and I have crossed paths more times than I can count. Each time, it’s been a war. She’s the kind of opponent who forces you to dig deep, to find something within yourself that you didn’t even know was there. We’ve traded victories, insults, and respect over the years. But this time... this time feels different.
I still remember our first encounter like it was yesterday. Back then, she was the rising star, the one everyone had their eyes on. I was already established, but she pushed me to my limits in ways I hadn’t experienced in years. She was fast, unpredictable, and had this knack for getting inside your head. She won that night, but it wasn’t easy—and I knew then that she wasn’t just another name on the roster. She was special.
Of course, we’ve both changed since then. Crystal went on to become a multi-time champion, carving out her legacy in promotions all over the world. She’s stood toe-to-toe with some of the best in the business. But she’s also stumbled—just like I have. I’ve seen her at her highest highs and her lowest lows: losing matches she should’ve won, doubting herself, only to rise again with that same fire that makes her so dangerous.
And now here we are—two veterans with everything to prove and nothing left to lose.
This isn’t just another match for either of us—it’s a crossroads. If I win, maybe I can remind everyone who Mercedes Vargas really is: a fighter who doesn’t quit, a woman who defies the odds time and time again. If I lose... well, I don’t even want to think about that right now.
This match is also personal. Crystal knows how to get under my skin better than anyone else in this business. She knows my weaknesses because she’s exploited them before. But I know hers too. I know how much she hates being underestimated, how much it eats at her when people write her off as "past her prime."
Sound familiar?
This match isn’t just about settling old scores or adding another win to our records. It’s about legacy—hers and mine. It’s about proving that we’re still here, still capable of stealing the show and reminding everyone why our names mean something in this industry. Crystal wants to prove she’s still the star she’s always claimed to be, and I want to prove that my time isn’t over yet—that I still have what it takes to stand at the top of this business.
Crystal Zdunich may be one of my greatest rivals, but this weekend? This weekend she’s just another obstacle standing between me and redemption. Crystal may think she knows what I’m bringing to this fight—but she has no idea how far I’m willing to go to win this time.
She’s beaten me before—and yes, those losses still sting—but last time, one-on-one? I’ve beaten her before, and I’ll do it again—not because I have to... but because I need to.
All I know is that when that bell rings, it won’t be about flash or flair or who gets the loudest reaction from the crowd, it won’t be about age or reputation or what anyone thinks of me. It’ll be about grit and who can dig deeper when everything is on the line. It’ll be about heart—mine versus hers—and I refuse to let mine stop beating before hers does.
So here’s to one last climb up the mountain. Here’s to rising tides and burning fires and proving that sometimes... the past isn’t done writing its story.
I’m ready for this.
.~~~
[INT. GYM – DAY
A dimly lit gym hums with the sound of clanging weights and faint echoes of grunts. The camera pans over a row of championship belts and framed photos of Mercedes Vargas in her prime, displayed proudly on a shelf.
Mercedes is in the center of the ring, delivering a series of sharp kicks to a heavy bag. Her movements are precise, but there's a weight in her eyes—determination mixed with doubt. She finishes another set of sharp kicks against the heavy bag, her breathing heavy but controlled. She leans on the ropes of the ring, wiping sweat from her brow as Irma approaches. She carries a water bottle and towel.
IRMA
You’re here earlier than usual.
[Mercedes doesn’t look up, her hands methodically wrapping the tape around her knuckles.]
MERCEDES
Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d put the time to good use.
[Irma sets the clipboard down on a nearby chair and leans against the wall, watching Mercedes.]
IRMA
You’ve been putting in extra hours all week. What’s eating at you?
[Mercedes pauses for a moment, then resumes taping.]
MERCEDES
It’s not what’s eating at me. It’s who.
[Irma raises an eyebrow, intrigued.]
IRMA
Let me guess—Crystal again?
[Mercedes chuckles dryly, finishing her wraps and standing to test her grip.]
MERCEDES
Not this time. Someone else—Harper Mason. She thinks she’s earned it already—thinks she’s worked harder than you me last year.
IRMA
No wonder you’re pushing yourself hard today.
[Mercedes takes the towel from Irma without looking up, wiping her face.]
MERCEDES
Harder than yesterday. Not hard enough for tomorrow.
[Irma smirks, crossing her arms as she leans against the ropes.]
IRMA
You keep this up, you’ll burn out before you even step into the ring with Crystal.
[Mercedes drops the towel onto the apron and sits on the edge of the ring, staring at her reflection in a cracked mirror across the gym. For a moment, she says nothing, her fingers gripping the ropes tightly.]
MERCEDES
I can’t afford to slow down, Irma. Not for her. Not for anyone.
[Irma climbs into the ring and sits beside her, studying Mercedes with a mix of concern and admiration.]
IRMA
You’ve faced Crystal before. Hell, you’ve beaten her before. What’s different this time?
[Mercedes hesitates, gripping the towel tightly in her hands.]
MERCEDES
It’s not just about beating her this time. It’s about everything she represents—every person who’s ever told me I’m past my prime... that I should’ve walked away while I was still on top.
[Mercedes hesitates, her gaze fixed on the mirror as if searching for an answer in her own reflection.]
Irma tilts her head slightly, watching Mercedes carefully.
IRMA
And what do you think?
MERCEDES
I think they’re wrong. I think I’ve got one more fight left in me—one more chance to show them that Mercedes Vargas isn’t done yet.
[Irma nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.]
IRMA
You’ve got the heart, Mercedes. You always have.
[Mercedes looks back at the mirror, seeing not just her reflection but the championship belts displayed behind it.]
MERCEDES
Heart’s not enough against someone like Crystal. She knows me too well—knows how to get inside my head.
IRMA
Then don’t let her in. You’ve fought bigger battles than this one, Mercedes. Crystal Zdunich is just another name on your list—another chapter in your story.
[Mercedes smirks faintly at that.]
MERCEDES
Yeah... my story isn’t finished yet.
[Irma pats Mercedes on the shoulder and stands.]
IRMA
Damn right it isn’t. Now get back in there and show me some fire before I start thinking *you’re* washed up too.
[Mercedes chuckles despite herself and stands, rolling her shoulders as she steps back into the ring.]
[The camera lingers on Irma watching from outside the ropes as Mercedes begins sparring with renewed intensity, determination etched into every movement.]
~~~
INT. MERCEDES' APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT
[The kitchen table is now cleared of contracts and clutter, replaced by two steaming plates of stir-fry. Mercedes and Ricardo sit across from each other, the glow of the TV in the background casting a soft light over the room. On the screen, an old wrestling match plays—Mercedes in her prime, locking in a submission hold on a much younger opponent. The crowd roars as the opponent taps out.
Mercedes watches the screen intently, her fork hovering over her plate. Ricardo takes a bite of her food, glancing at Mercedes.]
RICARDO
You know, I still remember that night. You were unstoppable. The way you carried yourself in that ring… no one could touch you.
MERCEDES
Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. Back when I didn’t have to ice my knees after every match.
[Ricardo chuckles but quickly grows serious.]
RICARDO
You still have that fire, Merce. I see it every time you step into the ring. It’s not about how fast you move or how high you can jump anymore—it’s about how smart you are, how much you’ve learned. That’s what these kids like Harper don’t get yet. They’re all flash and no substance.
[Mercedes leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she watches herself on the screen.]
MERCEDES
Maybe. But Crystal’s got something I don’t anymore—momentum. She’s riding this wave of attention, and people love to buy into her story. Me? Every match feels like I’m fighting uphill just to prove I still belong.
[Ricardo sets his fork down, leaning forward with a determined look.]
RICARDO
And that’s exactly why you’re still here—because you know what it takes to fight uphill and win. Crystal might have momentum now, but she doesn’t have what you do: resilience. You’ve been through wars she couldn’t even imagine. She’s fighting for validation—you’re fighting for legacy.
[Mercedes looks at Ricardo, her expression softening as she absorbs the words.]
MERCEDES
Legacy... it feels final, like it’s already written. But mine isn’t done yet.
RICARDO
(leaning back)
Your legacy isn’t finished until you say it is. And if Crystal Zdunich thinks she can write the final chapter for you? She’s got another thing coming.
[A comfortable silence settles between them as they both turn their attention back to the screen. The match on TV shifts to a post-match promo—Mercedes standing in the center of the ring, championship belt slung over her shoulder, addressing the crowd with fiery confidence.]
TV MERCEDES
(to the camera) You think I’m done? You think this is the end of Mercedes Vargas? Let me tell you something—you don’t get to decide when my story ends. I do.
[Mercedes chuckles softly at her younger self on-screen.]
MERCEDES
Damn, I was cocky back then.
RICARDO
You weren’t cocky—you were right.
[Mercedes glances at Ricardo, surprised by the conviction in her voice.]
RICARDO
You’ve always known who you are and what you bring to that ring. Don’t let someone like Crystal make you question that now.
[Mercedes nods slowly, a flicker of determination returning to her eyes.]
MERCEDES
You’re right… again. I’ve been through too much to let someone like Crystal Zdunich rewrite my story for me.
[Ricardo raises his glass of water in an impromptu toast.]
RICARDO
To unfinished stories—and making damn sure they end on our terms.
[Mercedes picks up her own glass with a smirk and clinks it against Ricardo's.]
MERCEDES
To that.
[They both take a sip before turning back to watch more of Mercedes’ old matches. The camera lingers on Mercedes’ face as she watches herself in action—her younger self full of fire and confidence—and then shifts back to present-day Mercedes, who looks just as determined now as she did then.]
RICARDO
You're going to be fine tomorrow, Merce. Just remember—you're not out there alone. I'll be there to offer moral support by telling you how great you used to be, same as always.
[Mercedes smiles faintly and nods, leaning back in her chair.]
MERCEDES
Oh, wonderful. Just what I need: a ringside seat to my own roast. Maybe you can bring a slideshow of my greatest defeats while you're at it.
[She gestures toward the shelf where her Hall of Fame rings are displayed.]
MERCEDES: But hey, maybe you can wear one of these tomorrow while you narrate my 'glory days.' You know, just to really sell the nostalgia."
[She smirks, tossing a napkin at him playfully.]
MERCEDES: Just kidding. Mostly.
[She stands slowly, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the years, her movements deliberate but steady.]
MERCEDES
Thanks for everything tonight... for reminding me why I do this.
[Ricardo pats her arm affectionately before stepping out into the hallway, his voice light but sincere.]
RICARDO
Anytime. Now get some rest—someone’s gotta remind Crystal why you’re a Hall of Famer.
[As Ricardo walks away down the hall, Mercedes closes the door behind her and leans against it for a moment, exhaling deeply. She looks over at the shelf where her championship belts gleam faintly in the dim light of the apartment.
She walks over to them slowly, running her fingers over one of the belts with a small smile on her face—a mixture of nostalgia and renewed determination.]
Present Day ♦ S A N T A M O N I C A, C A L I F O R N I A[REC•][Across from the iconic El Rey Theatre on Wilshire Boulevard, the Ace Gallery was a hidden gem in Mid-City Los Angeles, celebrated for its contemporary art exhibits and free public access. Its vibrant installations made it a favorite spot for selfies, blending art with accessibility.
Mercedes Vargas, clad in leopard prints and bootcut jeans, stands confidently before her favorite piece—a striking wall of neon pink circles. Her brunette curls cascade beneath cat-eye sunglasses, exuding effortless aplomb as the camera pans back to capture the Sin City Wrestling Hall of Famer in her element.]
[The camera transitions from the neon-lit gallery to Mercedes Vargas, now addressing the lens with her trademark confidence. She adjusts her sunglasses and begins, her tone calm yet cutting.]
"This Sunday at Climax Control 416, it’s the Elimination Chamber qualifier—the kind of match that defines careers and separates contenders from pretenders. And you know what? It feels right. It feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be. Out of all the qualifying matches this weekend, I’ve drawn the toughest challenge—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Crystal Zdunich is no pushover—she’s a Hall of Famer, just like me.
"But while she’s busy trying to remind people of who she was, I’m out here proving who I still am. I’m not just walking into this match as another competitor—I’m walking in as a two-time Hall of Famer and a multi-time champion. For over a decade, I’ve thrived under pressure, delivering results every single time I step into that ring. That’s the difference between us—I don’t need to remind people of my greatness because my accomplishments speak for themselves. For someone like me, matches like this aren’t just about winning; they’re about reminding everyone why my name is etched in history.
[Mercedes turns slightly, her gaze sweeping over the gallery as if surveying her domain.]
"I’ve built my career on moments like this—thriving when the pressure is highest, delivering when it matters most. That’s why my name is etched in history, while others are fading into obscurity.
"Don’t get me wrong—I respect what Crystal has accomplished in her career. She’s done things most people can only dream of—just like I have. That’s why we’re both Hall of Famers. But here’s the thing: being a Hall of Famer isn’t just about what you’ve done—it’s about proving you still belong at the top. And that’s where Crystal and I couldn’t be more different.
"I know what Crystal's thinking right now. She's probably sitting somewhere, convincing herself that this match is her moment. That this is her chance to remind the world who she is. And look, I have to hand it to Crystal – she's still hanging in there."
[Mercedes pauses, a barely perceptible flicker of amusement in her eyes.]
“It’s… remarkable, really, given how long she's been doing this.”
[A slight pause, barely perceptible.]
“It’s a testament to her career.”
[She steps closer to the camera, her voice steady but with a veiled edge.]
“You know, Crystal loves to reinvent herself—one day she’s Crystal Zdunich, the next she’s Christina Rose, or maybe ‘La Paloma or La Rosa Ardiente’ if the mood strikes her. Honestly? Watching her try so hard to stay relevant is exhausting—I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to live it."
[She gestures toward one of the gallery pieces—a chaotic swirl of colors—and smirks.]
"Reinvention is cute and all, but it doesn’t erase the past. And Crystal’s past? Let’s just say it reads more like a soap opera than a success story—burned bridges, broken promises, and retirements that never seem to stick. Honestly, if her career were a TV show, it’d be canceled by now… or at least stuck in syndication."
[She adjusts her sunglasses, her expression calm but cutting.]
"While Crystal spins sob stories about how nobody respects her anymore, I’ve been out here earning respect the only way that matters—by winning. She chases validation with her endless reinventions, but me? I just do what I’ve always done: show up, deliver, and win. No theatrics, no melodrama—just results."
[Mercedes steps forward again, her boots clicking against the polished floor as the camera tracks her movement. Her tone grows sharper now, more focused.]
“Crystal likes to call herself a ‘legend,’ but legends are supposed to command respect — not eye rolls. And let’s be real—how much respect does Crystal really have in that locker room? Between her excuses and constant need for attention, it’s clear she cares more about being noticed than being remembered.”
[She stops in front of another piece of art—a fractured mirror installation—and glances at her reflection before addressing the camera again.]
"Those neon circles behind me? They’re bright and flashy—just like Crystal used to be. But eventually, they flicker out and fade away. That fractured mirror over there? It reminds me of her career and legacy —cracked under pressure but still trying to reflect something that isn’t there anymore, or maybe just trying to hold together what little pieces are left.
[Mercedes pauses, brushing a strand of hair from her face and a subtle smile playing on her lips. Her tone shifts slightly—still confident but tinged with finality.]
"Crystal loves to call herself ‘The Rose That Refused to Wither.’ But even roses have their limits—thorns can only protect you for so long before they snap under pressure. Every time she loses, there’s always an excuse: ‘I wasn’t at my best,’ ‘I had too much going on,’ or my personal favorite, ‘I didn’t get the opportunities I deserved.’ It’s the same tired story every time, wrapped up in her underdog narrative. Cute, sure—but I’ve been in this business long enough to know exactly how this story ends. Last time Crystal and I went one-on-one, we both know how that ended. This Sunday won’t be any different—it’ll just be another chapter in the same story.
“But hey..."
[Mercedes raises both hands as if offering Crystal some credit before lowering them slowly.]
"maybe I’m being too harsh. I’ll give credit where it’s due. Crystal's got heart. She's got determination. And she's got… well, let’s call it an
impressive ability to bounce back from failure. Crystal does have a knack for surviving—barely scraping by just enough to keep herself relevant. But survival isn’t enough in the Elimination Chamber—it never has been. You don’t just survive in that match; you dominate, you destroy, and you outlast everyone else. And domination? That’s what I do best.”
[She stops at a crosswalk, glancing at the traffic before turning back to the camera with a sly grin.]
"Not ashamed to say it, not ashamed to repeat it."
[As the light changes and she crosses the street, her tone softens slightly but remains cutting.]
"This Sunday isn’t just about qualifying for the Elimination Chamber—it’s about separating those who still belong at the top from those who are desperately clinging to what they used to be. The Elimination Chamber isn’t just another match—it’s where legends are made, careers are defined, and pretenders are exposed. And Crystal? You’re about to find out which side you belong on."
[Mercedes turns fully to face the camera now, removing her sunglasses and locking eyes with the lens. Her voice drops slightly, becoming even more deliberate.]
“This Sunday, when we step into that ring, I know what's on the line. Do I ever wonder if I've done enough, if I can still measure up to my standards? Sure, there's doubt. But, let me tell you, Crystal, as soon as that bell rings and I get a good look at you, all those doubts fade away and I know, more than anything else, I'm a legend and you're in my way.
"This is about me reminding you—and everyone else—why I’m still at the top of my game while you’re busy trying to convince people you’ve still got it. Bring your best—or bring your excuses. Either way, when it’s all said and done, I’ll be walking into that Elimination Chamber while you’re left sitting at home wondering where it all went wrong."
[Mercedes reaches her car—a sleek black sports car parked perfectly along the curb—and pauses before opening the door. She leans against it for a moment, addressing the camera one last time.]
"You know, Crystal, people like to throw around the word ‘legend’ as if it’s just a title you can claim. But being a legend isn’t about what you’ve done in the past—it’s about proving, every single day, that you still belong at the top. And that’s where we’re different. You’re busy clinging to what you used to be, while I’m out here showing everyone what I still am, and proving why I’m still everything you wish you could be."
“Crystal Zdunich versus Mercedes Vargas—two Hall of Famers, one qualifier match. On paper, it sounds like a dream match, doesn’t it? But in reality? This isn’t about two equals battling it out for glory. It’s going to be a wake-up call for you and everyone else who still thinks you’re on my level.”
[She slides her sunglasses back on, her smirk widening as she delivers her final words.]
“You’ve had your time in the spotlight, Crystal—your moments, your accolades, your stories. But this Sunday? That spotlight shifts back where it belongs—to me. This Sunday, I’m not just taking my place in the Elimination Chamber—I’m taking back what’s mine: respect, glory, and my rightful spot at the top."
[Mercedes opens the car door and slides inside. The engine roars to life as she pulls away from the curb, leaving nothing but tire tracks and anticipation behind her. The camera lingers on her retreating car before fading to black.]
***FADE***
