Blog: Almighty Firesemana del 9 al 16 de marzo de 2025I used to think that I was a loner, that I never even had fans. As it turns out, I was very wrong. See, you learn eventually that haters are literally your biggest fans. They go out of their way. Without even following you, to see everything you do. Talk about you. Obsess over you. It’s a win either way, no?
Let’s talk about those imitators for a second. They watch my every move, study my every word, and try to replicate what I do in that ring. But here’s the thing: you can copy the moves, but you’ll never have the magic. You’ll never have the presence, the poise, or the power that comes with being me. Because what I have? It’s not something you can teach. It’s not something you can learn. It’s something you’re born with—and trust me, I was born to be great.
And don’t think I haven’t noticed all the little whispers backstage. ‘Mercedes is losing her edge.’ ‘She’s been on top for too long.’ Sweetheart, if being on top for this long bothers you, then maybe it’s time you stopped aiming so low. The truth is, I’ve been at the peak of this mountain for so long that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to look up at anyone else. And that’s not arrogance—it’s just reality.
They all want what I have—the accolades, the spotlight, the legacy. But here’s the thing: wanting it and earning it are two very different things. And while they’re busy running their mouths, I’m busy running my business.
Not many people can say they've had a legendary Hall of Fame career, won so many championships, be known as one of the most decorated wrestlers in the company, have seen people come and go, but still manage to maintain their place in the Bombshell Division. Some give excuses, others criticize the company. But those who stay and work hard definitely become legend. I'm at a place in life where I'm most happy and could not win another title and still be more relevant than I am now.
The women's division is so deep. You really have to show up now. There's no longer matches that are going to be a sure walkthrough. To be in Sin City Wrestling for well over a decade is to experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Sometimes, it hurts. But I take it and move forward
They said I was done. They said Mercedes Vargas had nothing left to prove. But here I am—still standing tall while others have come and gone. This isn't just about proving them wrong—it's about reminding everyone why I’m still the standard in this company.
At Climax Control 416, I silenced the doubters once again by defeating Crystal Zdunich and earning my spot in the Bombshell World Championship Elimination Chamber match. It wasn’t just a victory, it was a statement. Crystal brought her A-game—hell, her entire alphabet—but I brought something more: experience, resilience, and the will to win. This isn’t my first rodeo, and it won’t be my last.
Losses are part of this business. They’re humbling, frustrating, and sometimes infuriating—but they’re also opportunities. Climax Control 419 last weekend didn’t go as planned. Teaming with Cassie Wolfe was never going to be easy, and the tension between us showed in the ring. But let me be clear: one match doesn’t define me, nor does it define my legacy.
Cassie might think this loss proves her point—that I’m past my prime, that I don’t belong at the top anymore. But here’s the thing: setbacks don’t break legends—they build them. Every great wrestler has faced defeat, but what separates champions from pretenders is how they respond to it. And trust me, I’ve responded to worse than this.
Andrea Hernandez and Kayla Richards may have won this battle, but they haven’t won the war. Andrea’s reign as Bombshell World Champion is still on borrowed time, and Kayla’s arrogance will be her undoing sooner or later. As for Cassie? Maybe now she’ll understand that respect isn’t given—it’s earned. She has potential, but potential without discipline is just wasted talent.
Teaming with Cassie Wolfe wasn’t ideal—she’s young, brash, and clearly has a lot to learn about respect in this business. She might think she’s clever with her digs about my past reigns or calling me irrelevant, but I’ve been where she is now—and I’ve surpassed it. You don’t become a Grand Slam Hall of Famer by being carried—you do it by carrying this division on your back.
I don’t need to justify my career to Cassie or anyone else. She can talk about my past reigns, throw shade about me teaming with Goth, or bring up Harper’s win over me all she wants—it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still here, still winning, and still making history while she's busy trying to make a name for herself.
Cassie clearly has a chip on her shoulder when it comes to me. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my career, it’s how to adapt. I’ve been in this business longer than Cassie’s been alive—I’ve seen it all, done it all, and faced every challenge thrown my way. So if I had to drag her kicking and screaming to victory against Andrea Hernandez and Kayla Richards, then so be it.
You know, I was hoping Cassie finally realized that teaming with me wasn't a punishment—it’s an opportunity. An opportunity to learn from the best, to see what greatness looks like up close and to maybe—just maybe—pick up a thing or two about what it takes to be a true legend in this business. But if she's too blinded by her own ego to see that, then maybe she's not as smart as she thinks she is.
This loss isn’t the end of my story—it’s just another chapter. Blaze of Glory XIII is around the corner, and when I step into that Elimination Chamber, I’ll remind everyone why Mercedes Vargas is still the gold standard in SCW. Legends don’t stay down—they rise stronger.
Maybe I’m closer to the end of my career than the beginning—but that only makes every match mean even more. I may not be who I was at my peak—but even now, I'm still better than most of the roster, I'm still a threat and I'm still good enough and smart enough to compete at a very high level. So while Andrea and Kayla celebrate their win, I’ll be preparing for what’s next. Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this: you can knock me down, but you’ll never keep me there.
Blaze of Glory XIII is coming—and it doesn’t matter who steps into that chamber with me. Andrea, Kayla, Cassie—they’ll all learn what I already know: Mercedes Vargas isn’t just a name; she’s the gold standard in SCW.~~~
[The wrestling gym hums with the rhythmic sounds of effort—grunts, heavy breathing, and the occasional squeak of sneakers against the mat. The ring dominates the center of the room, an imposing square surrounded by workout equipment and scattered weights. Under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, Mercedes Vargas moves with precision and intensity, her body a blur of controlled power.
She lunges forward, gripping an imaginary opponent. Her muscles flex as she executes a flawless grapple, her movements fluid and deliberate. It’s almost artistic, the way she transitions seamlessly into a strike. Her fists slice through the air with purpose, each motion refined by years of practice. Sweat glistens on her brow, dripping down her temple as she pushes herself harder. This isn’t just training—it’s a ritual. A fight against doubt. A fight for resilience.
Her thoughts swirl like a mantra: Resilience. Creativity. They’re not just for the ring—they’re for life. Wrestling forces her to adapt, to think on her feet when the odds seem insurmountable. It’s not about brute strength alone—it’s about strategy, finding beauty in chaos. And sometimes, life throws her into matches she didn’t expect.
Mercedes pauses, leaning against the ropes as her chest heaves with deep breaths. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand and gazes across the gym, momentarily lost in thought. The ring is her sanctuary—a place where she confronts fears and insecurities head-on.
The lights dim slightly as she steps out of the ring, ready to face whatever challenges await beyond its confines.]
~~~
[The art gallery buzzes with quiet activity. The faint hum of conversation blends with the soft shuffle of footsteps on polished floors. Paintings and sculptures are scattered throughout the space, each piece carefully arranged to draw the eye. In the center of it all, Irma adjusts a canvas perched on an easel, her brow furrowed with concentration. She steps back, tilting her head as if trying to see the painting from a new perspective.
The door swings open, and Mercedes Vargas strides in, still flushed from her workout. A towel hangs around her neck, and she uses it to dab at the sweat on her face. Her presence is electric, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere of the gallery.]
MERCEDES
You should’ve seen me in the ring today—I was on fire.
[Irma glances over her shoulder and offers a faint smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She sighs, turning back to the canvas.]
IRMA
I wish I felt that way about this show. I don’t even know if my work says anything anymore.
[Mercedes walks over to examine one of Irma’s paintings. The colors are bold and raw, each brushstroke heavy with emotion. She tilts her head slightly, taking it in.]
MERCEDES
It’s raw. It’s real. That’s what people connect with. Trust me—wrestling or art, it’s all about putting yourself out there.
[Irma hesitates, her fingers brushing against the edge of the easel.]
IRMA
But what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?
[Mercedes steps closer and places a reassuring hand on Irma’s shoulder. Her grip is steady, grounding.]
MERCEDES
You are. Believe me, I’ve been there—doubting myself before every match. But you fight through it because your passion deserves to be seen.
[Irma’s fingers trail along the edge of the canvas, her gaze lingering on the bold streaks of color she once painted with such confidence.]
IRMA
It’s just… sometimes I feel like I’m shouting into a void. What if no one hears me? What if no one even cares?
[Mercedes crosses her arms, leaning casually against a nearby wall, but her expression is anything but casual. Her eyes soften as she watches Irma wrestle with her insecurities.]
MERCEDES
You know, I used to think the same thing. Every match, I’d wonder—what if I lose? What if no one remembers me? But then I realized something.
[Irma glances at her, curiosity flickering in her eyes.]
IRMA
What?
[Mercedes pushes off the wall and steps closer, her tone growing more animated.]
MERCEDES
It’s not about them. It’s about you. Your work—your art—it’s your voice. Even if only one person hears it, even if it’s just you, that’s enough. Because it’s yours.
[Irma exhales slowly, as if trying to let go of the weight pressing down on her chest.]
IRMA
Easier said than done.
[There’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.]
MERCEDES
Of course it is. If it were easy, everyone would do it.
[Mercedes gestures toward the painting in front of them.]
MERCEDES
But look at this. You’ve already done the hard part—you’ve put yourself out there. That takes guts.
[Irma studies the painting again, this time with a different perspective. The chaotic swirls of color that once seemed uncertain now feel deliberate, almost alive. She tilts her head slightly and lets out a soft laugh.]
IRMA
I guess I do have guts.
MERCEDES
Damn right you do! And don’t forget it.
[For a moment, they stand in comfortable silence, both women staring at the painting as if seeing it for the first time.]
[Later that evening, laughter and conversation fill the air as guests mingle and admire Irma's artwork during her show. Mercedes enters again, dressed casually but exuding confidence as she spots Irma across the room and waves.]
MERCEDES
Look at this place—it’s packed!
[Irma laughs nervously as Mercedes approaches.]
IRMA
I can’t believe it… people actually showed up.
[Mercedes places a reassuring hand on Irma's shoulder.]
MERCEDES
Of course they did! You’re amazing—and so is your work.
[Mercedes glances at one of IRMA's paintings—a bold piece with jagged lines and vibrant colors that seem to radiate energy.]
MERCEDES
This one’s my favorite. It reminds me of a match—messy but full of heart. Just like life.
[Irma looks at the painting thoughtfully as confidence grows in her expression.
[Later that night, after everyone has left, Mercedes stands alone in front of Irma's boldest painting—a piece symbolizing resilience and growth through its chaotic yet striking design.
Mercedes’ phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and reads a text from Tomas about a getaway weekend on his boat. She smiles faintly and pockets her phone and studies the painting one last time before stepping out into the night, ready to face whatever battles lie ahead—inside or outside the ring.]
~~~
[A warm, modest dining room. The table is neatly arranged with plates and silverware. A simple family meal is laid out in the center. Mercedes sits across from her brother Jorge while their mother Estelle moves quietly around the table, refilling glasses and serving dishes.
Jorge sets his fork down, his eyes narrowing as he addresses Mercedes.]
JORGE
So, still chasing that wrestling dream? When are you going to settle down and get a real job?
[Mercedes stiffens, her jaw clenched in anticipation of a fight. She pushes her chair back slightly, her eyes locked intensely on her brother.]
MERCEDES:
Wrestling is my job, Jorge.
[Mercedes stiffens but doesn’t respond immediately. Estelle intervenes softly.]
ESTELLE:
Jorge, leave her be.
[JORGE crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t drop his gaze from Mercedes.]
JORGE:
I just don’t see how it’s sustainable. You can't live off passion forever.
[Mercedes stiffens, ready to argue, but Estelle interrupts before she can speak.]
ESTELLE:
You know, I had dreams once too—before family became my whole world.
[Mercedes looks at Estelle in surprise. The room falls silent except for the faint clinking of silverware against plates. Estelle sits down and smiles sadly at Mercedes.]
ESTELLE
Don’t let anyone tell you to stop fighting for what you love.
[The room remains quiet after Estelle’s heartfelt words. Mercedes lowers her gaze to her plate, deep in thought as the weight of Estelle’s words sinks in. Estelle begins serving herself food again, breaking the silence.]
JORGE
Well, I just think it’s time to be practical. Dreams are great, but they don’t keep the lights on, Mercedes.
[Mercedes lifts her head, her jaw tightening as she glares at Jorge.]
MERCEDES
And what would you know about chasing dreams, Jorge?
[Estelle raises a hand, her voice calm but firm.]
ESTELLE
Enough. This is a family dinner, not a debate.
[The tension lingers for a moment before Jorge sighs and turns his attention back to his plate. Mercedes leans back in her chair, crossing her arms defensively.]
MERCEDES
You act like wrestling isn’t a real job… but it’s everything to me.
[Estelle looks at Mercedes with a soft smile, her tone gentle.]
ESTELLE
I know it is, sweetheart. And I admire that about you.
[Mercedes glances at Estelle, surprised by the support in her voice. Estelle reaches across the table to place a hand over Mercedes.]
ESTELLE
Just promise me one thing—don’t lose yourself along the way. Dreams are important, but so is remembering who you are and where you come from.
[Mercedes nods slowly, her defensive posture softening as Estelle’s words sink in.]
JORGE
You can’t live off passion alone. At some point, you’ll have to grow up and face reality.
[Mercedes exhales sharply, her patience fraying.]
MERCEDES
Reality? You think I don’t know what reality is? Every time I step into that ring, I’m putting my body on the line. Every bruise, every broken bone—that’s my reality. And it’s more real than anything you’ve ever done sitting behind a desk.
[Jorge sets his glass down with a loud clink, his jaw tightening.]
JORGE
Don’t you dare lecture me about hard work. I’ve sacrificed plenty for this family—
MERCEDES
And what do you think I’m doing? Wrestling isn’t just some hobby for me, Jorge. It’s my life. It’s who I am.
[Estelle steps in again, her voice calm but firm as she tries to diffuse the escalating argument.]
ESTELLE
Enough. Both of you.
[Her words carry weight, silencing the room for a moment. She looks at Jorge first, her expression sharp.]
ESTELLE
Jorge, your sister is not asking for your approval. She’s asking for your respect.
[Jorge leans back in his chair, crossing his arms but saying nothing. Estelle then turns to Mercedes, her gaze softening.]
ESTELLE
And you… I know how much wrestling means to you. But don’t let your anger blind you to the people who care about you.
[Mercedes looks down at her plate, her shoulders slumping slightly as Estelle’s words sink in. The room falls into another uneasy silence before Jorge finally speaks again, his tone begrudging but less harsh.]
JORGE
I just don’t want to see you get hurt… or waste your time chasing something that won’t last.
[Mercedes looks up at him, her eyes narrowing.]
MERCEDES (quietly but firmly)
Getting hurt is part of it. And so is the risk. But I’d rather fail doing something I love than spend my life wondering what could’ve been.
[Jorge studies her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighs and picks up his fork again. Jorge mutters under his breath, his tone laced with frustration.]
JORGE
Stubborn as ever.
[Estelle smiles faintly and places a hand over Mercedes’ on the table.]
ESTELLE:
That stubbornness is what makes her who she is.
[He shifted slightly, his voice dropping to a quieter murmur.]
JORGE
Well, I still think—
[Estelle shoots him a sharp look, cutting him off mid-sentence.]
ESTELLE
Jorge. Not another word.
[Jorge grumbles under his breath but says nothing more. The room falls into an uneasy silence as everyone continues eating. After a moment, Mercedes speaks softly, her gratitude evident in her gentle tone.]
ESTELLE
You know, Jorge… Mercedes isn’t wrong.
[Jorge looks up, his brow furrowing slightly as Estelle continues.]
ESTELLE
Passion doesn’t always make sense to everyone. But it’s what keeps us alive. You may not understand her world, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less valid than yours.
[Mercedes glances at her mother, surprised by the quiet strength in her voice. Estelle turns to Jorge with a knowing smile.]
ESTELLE
And let’s not forget, you weren’t always practical either. Remember when you wanted to be a musician?
[Jorge shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression softening as he lets out a reluctant chuckle.]
JORGE
Yeah… but that was a long time ago. I had to grow up.”
[Estelle leans forward, her tone gentle but firm.]
ESTELLE
Growing up doesn’t mean giving up on what makes you happy. It just means finding a way to make it work.
[Jorge looks at Mercedes, his gaze less critical now. There’s a flicker of something—perhaps understanding—in his eyes.]
JORGE
I guess I just don’t want to see you get hurt… or end up disappointed.
[Mercedes straightens in her chair, meeting his gaze head-on.]
MERCEDES
I get hurt every day, Jorge. That’s part of the job. But disappointment? That only happens when you stop trying.
[The room falls silent again, but this time it feels less tense. Jorge nods slowly, as if conceding the point.]
[Estelle smiles warmly and pats Mercedes’ hand before returning to her meal.]
[The lights dim slightly as the family continues their quiet dinner, leaving them in a reflective tableau.]
~~~
Present Day ♦ L O S A N G E L E S, C A L I F O R N I A[REC•][The camera pans over the vibrant, rainbow-colored Micheltorena Steps in Silver Lake, Los Angeles. Mercedes Vargas stands at the bottom, dressed in a sleek black outfit that contrasts with the bright surroundings. She looks up at the stairs, a confident smirk on her face.]
"You know, I’ve waited long enough to address everyone about Climax Control 420, the go-home show before Blaze of Glory."
[Mercedes begins walking up the stairs, her heels clicking against the concrete as she speaks.]
"And trust me, the wait was worth it. Why? Because reacting out of emotion is so basic. That’s not me. That’s not Mercedes Vargas. I don’t do petty; I do power moves."
[She pauses halfway up, turning to face the camera with a dramatic flourish.]
"I have a splitting headache, my hand hurts, my body hurts. But what hurts the most is that I know it, those stupid fans know it, all those idiots in San Francisco knows it. I had that much won last weekend. It would’ve been so easy to come here and whine about Andrea Hernandez and Kayla Richards getting lucky last weekend or Cassie Wolfe dropping the ball. But let’s be real—luck is fleeting, and mediocrity is forever."
[Mercedes continues her ascent, her voice echoing off the surrounding building.]
"In two weeks, we step into the Elimination Chamber, and let me tell you something, history has a funny way of repeating itself. Andrea Hernandez knows all too well how cruel history can be. December 2 Dismember 2019? She walked out empty-handed in her first ever Elimination Chamber match—and while she wasn't the defending champion at the time, or the one to win the title that night, but she still walked out with nothing but regret. Sure, she eventually won the title at Blaze of Glory the next year, but Evie Jordan snatched that title faster than her reign could even matter in the main event of Into the Void. And now, five years to the day she won her first Bombshell Championship? Andrea’s scared—scared of losing her title without being pinned, scared of history repeating itself like it did when Evie dethroned her at Into the Void.
"But not to worry; I’ll make it easy for Andrea. Because at Blaze of Glory, history will repeat itself again like it did in her first chamber match at December 2 Dismember, like it did at Into the Void when she lost the title to Evie. Andrea will be staring down another avalanche of failure inside the Elimination Chamber—and I’ll be the one to bury her under it. And as for Kayla Richards? If I don’t leave as champion, she won’t leave at all."
[She turns back to the camera, her expression serious.]
"But let's put everything into perspective when it comes to my opponent this weekend. Now she may more concerned about glitter, but Candy is a former Bombshell Roulette Champion. She had a 154-day reign! Did it help change anyone's opinion that she's a threat in division? Probably not, but let's get this back to where it should be.
"Candy—sweet little Candy. Congratulations on your big win over Miss Manners at Climax Control 418 and for earning your golden ticket into the Elimination Chamber match, courtesy of Christian Underwood himself."
[Mercedes descends the stairs now, her eyes locked on the camera.]
"I mean, really, it must feel like a dream come true for you. But let me be the first to wake you up because this isn’t Candyland, sweetheart—this is Sin City Wrestling, and you’re stepping into my world now."
[As she reaches the bottom, Mercedes pauses for dramatic effect.]
"You see, Candy, while you were busy sprinkling glitter and cupcakes all over the ring, I’ve been out here doing what I do best: cementing my legacy as the most decorated Bombshell in SCW history. That’s not just a title; it’s a responsibility. It’s why I don’t dwell on losses like last week’s match against Andrea Hernandez and Kayla Richards. No, I think about the bigger picture—the war, not the battle—and that war culminates inside the Elimination Chamber at Blaze of Glory.
"But before we get there, you and I have some unfinished business at Climax Control 420. You know how they say pick your battles? Well, this match wasn't my choice, but fighting is. I’m not Miss Manners, and I’m not here to play nice. When we meet in San Francisco, I’ll show you what happens when glitter meets grit. Because while you’re dreaming of rainbows and unicorns, I’m focused on one thing: domination. You may have earned your way into that Chamber match with a little win here and a little favor there, but when you stand across from me this Sunday? This isn't all about fun and games. No, I’m about making statements. And my statement is simple: no one—and I mean no one—uses me as a stepping stone to Blaze of Glory.
"Candy, let me remind you what’s at stake here. You’re walking into an Elimination Chamber match with some of the most dangerous women in this company: Andrea Hernandez, Kayla Richards, Necra Octavian Kane and yes—me. Do you really think cupcakes and glitter are going to help you survive that? Andrea is already shaking in her boots knowing she could lose her title without being pinned. Kayla Richards? She’s on borrowed time if I have anything to say about it. And you? Well, let’s just say that after Climax Control 420, your sweet little dreams of glory might just melt away faster than frosting in the sun."
[The camera follows Mercedes as she walks away from the Micheltorena Steps, her heels clicking against the pavement with every confident step. The bright colors of the stairs fade into the background, replaced by the bustling streets of Silver Lake. Mercedes stops near a mural painted on a nearby wall, its vibrant imagery providing a striking backdrop to her commanding presence.]
"These steps? They symbolize my climb—the victories, championships, and defining moments that built my legacy. And as I leave these steps behind—just as I’ve left countless opponents behind in my career—I’m reminded of what drives me forward: resilience and determination. And Candy? You’re just another step for me to conquer on my way to the top."
[Mercedes stops in front of another mural—a depiction of a phoenix rising from the ashes—and smirks as she gestures toward it. She gestures toward the mural behind her, its bold colors reflecting her intensity.]
"This mural? It’s not just paint on a wall—it’s a testament to my journey. Every stroke, every color, every detail tells a story of resilience, dominance, and legacy. Much like this city, I’ve built myself brick by brick, moment by moment, and match by match. And just like this mural stands tall amidst the chaos of Silver Lake, I stand tall in Sin City Wrestling, ready to remind everyone why I’m the most decorated Bombshell in history."
[She begins walking again, her pace deliberate and purposeful as she moves through the streets of Silver Lake. The camera keeps up with her, capturing every word as she speaks with unwavering confidence.]
"Blaze of Glory is coming, and I’m walking into that Chamber with one goal in mind—to walk out as Bombshell World Champion. As for you? Consider our match your first taste of reality because when it comes to Mercedes Vargas versus Candy... well, darling, there’s only one winner here—and it isn’t going to be you."
[Mercedes steps closer to the camera now, filling the frame with her presence as she delivers her final words.]
"So enjoy your moment in the spotlight while it lasts, Candy. And trust me when I say this: at Climax Control 420, the only thing sweeter than victory will be watching your sugar-coated dreams crumble at my feet."
***Fade***
