Blog: Almighty Firesemana del 1 al 8 de junio de 2025Alright, let’s talk. Let’s really talk. Because this Sunday at Climax Control, the world’s about to see something special. Something unforgettable. And I’m not just talking about another match—I’m talking about a moment that’s gonna be written in the history books. A moment where Mercedes Vargas reminds everyone why she’s the one to beat.
But before we get to Sunday, let’s rewind a little. Two weeks ago, in Paris—the city of lights, the city of love, and, as it turns out, the city where dreams come to die for anyone who steps in the ring with me. Into the Void. That’s where it all went down. That’s where Bella Madison thought she had a shot. That’s where she realized—too late—that she was in way over her head.
Let me tell you something about Paris. It’s beautiful, but not everyone gets to leave with a souvenir. Bella tried, but the only thing she took home was another lesson—courtesy of yours truly. And honestly? She should be thanking me. Not many people get a front-row seat to greatness. Most just get a free lesson in humility. But Bella? She got both.
That night, I showed the world what I’m made of. I showed Bella what it takes to be a champion. And when the dust settled, when the crowd was on their feet, when the lights were shining down on me and that title was around my waist—that’s when she knew. That’s when everyone knew. Mercedes Vargas is the real deal. The rest? They’re just playing catch-up.
But here’s the thing about being at the top: you never get to rest. There’s always someone nipping at your heels, always someone thinking they can take what’s yours. And this time, it’s Bella again. She wants a rematch. She wants another shot at the title. And you know what? I get it. I’d want another shot too, if I were her. But wanting ain’t getting, and getting ain’t keeping. And this title? It’s not going anywhere.
Let’s talk about Bella. She’s got heart, talent, and a legion of fans behind her. She’s got the passion, the drive—and after tasting defeat in Paris, she’s hungrier than ever for redemption. That hunger makes her dangerous, but it still won’t be enough to take this title from me. Not now, not ever. Bella’s story is one of perseverance. She’s been in this business for years, grinding, fighting, always coming up just short. She’s had her share of wins, but the big one has always eluded her. That’s why she wanted this match so bad. That’s why she gave everything she had in Paris. And that’s why she’s coming back for more. But let’s be real—sometimes, being the people’s champ is just a fancy way of saying you’re still chasing the real thing. And honey, I am the real thing.
I get it, everyone wants a second chance. But sometimes, the story’s already been written. Bella’s looking for redemption, but she’s still trying to figure out the ending.
Bella’s been grinding for years, and I respect that. I really do. But respect doesn’t win matches. It just reminds you how far you still have to go. And for Bella, that journey isn’t over—it’s just getting longer. Because every time she thinks she’s close, I’m there to remind her that the top is still out of reach. I’ve seen the way she trains, the way she talks, the way she carries herself. She’s all heart, all effort, all the time. And that’s admirable. But at the end of the day, effort doesn’t put titles around your waist. Skill does. Determination does. And a little bit of that Vargas magic—that’s what gets it done.
People ask me, “Mercedes, why are you so sure? Why are you so confident?” People love to call me arrogant, but let's face it—I've earned the right to be. I’ve fought and beaten every kind of challenger, and Bella is just another name on that list. She thinks she can walk in and take what’s mine, but this Sunday, she’ll learn again: you don’t just step up to Mercedes Vargas—you have to earn it. And so far, Bella hasn’t earned a damn thing.
This title is more than a trophy—it’s a symbol of everything I’ve fought for and overcome. I’ve been counted out and underestimated before, but I always come back stronger. This Sunday, I’m not just defending my title—I’m defending my legacy. And I’m not about to let anyone, especially not Bella Madison, stand in my way.
This Sunday, I’m not just looking to win—I’m looking to dominate and prove, once and for all, that Mercedes Vargas is the best. This is about respect, legacy, and showing I belong at the top. The stakes are high. For Bella, it’s about redemption. For me, it’s about proving that I’m still the best in the world. The fans are split—some want to see Bella finally get her moment, others want to see me continue my reign. The tension is real, and you can feel it in the air. But let’s be real: this isn’t about what the fans want. It’s about what I want. And I want to remind everyone why I’m still the one to beat.
I’ve seen the social media posts, the polls, the predictions. Some people think Bella has a shot. Some think I’m unbeatable. The truth is, anything can happen in that ring. But I know one thing for sure: I’m ready.
Let’s talk about the spotlight. It’s not for everyone. Some people crumble under it, some people chase it, and some people—like me—own it. I’ve seen what happens when the lights get too bright. I’ve seen challengers who talk a big game, but when the cameras roll and the crowd roars, they shrink. Bella’s got heart, I’ll give her that. But heart doesn’t make you a star. It doesn’t make you unforgettable. And it definitely doesn’t make you a winner.
I know what it’s like to have everyone watching, waiting for you to slip up. I know what it’s like to have the pressure of an entire arena on your shoulders. But here’s the thing: pressure doesn’t break me. It fuels me. It sharpens me. It reminds me why I’m still here, why I’m still the one to beat. And it reminds everyone else, too.
Bella’s hungry, sure. She’s got the drive, the passion, the fans. But hunger isn’t enough. Not against me. Not when I’m at my best. Not when I’m the one standing between her and everything she wants. I’ve seen her hunger before. I’ve seen her determination. And I’ve seen it crumble, every single time.
So bring your best, Bella. Bring your fans. Bring your excuses. It won’t matter. Because at the end of the night, you’ll still be looking up at me, wondering what it takes to be a real champion. And I’ll be happy to show you—again.
That’s why I’m still here. That’s why I’m still the one to beat. And that’s why, no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to take this from me.
Prepare for the worst.
Hope for the best.
And may the odds be ever in your favor.~~~
L O S A N G E L E S • C A L I F O R N I A[Carmen and Malcolm sit together in their patrol car, engines idling as the city outside blinks awake. Neon lights fading and replaced by the pale glow of dawn. Inside the car, it feels like another round of the same old dance.
Malcolm’s voice breaks the quiet, dry as the desert heat outside.]
MALCOLM:
Another day, another dollar… and another ride with you.
[Carmen shoots him a look, half-amused, half-exhausted.]
CARMEN:
Complaining already? We haven’t even started.
[Malcolm smirks, eyes flicking to the rearview. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, nervous energy bubbling under his calm exterior.]
MALCOLM:
Just saying, last time you let your cousin tag along, we ended up chasing a stolen ice cream truck.
[Carmen shakes her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. She remembers the absurdity of it all—the flashing lights, the wailing siren, the bewildered driver with a cone in his hand.]
CARMEN:
That was a one-time thing. And we caught the guy, didn’t we?
[Malcolm leans back, feigning dramatic regret. He clutches his chest as if wounded, eyes rolling skyward in mock despair.]
MALCOLM:
Bean's Scene closed for renovations.
CARMEN:
You’re kidding. That diner’s been our breakfast spot since the academy.
MALCOLM:
I had to drink gas station coffee. I can still taste the regret.
CARMEN:
And just for $1.49.
[Her phone buzzes—a message from the universe, or maybe just her family, ready to throw another curveball. Carmen sighs as she reads the text, already bracing for impact. The screen’s blue light flickers across her tired face, casting shadows under her eyes.]
***
HOLLENBECK DIVISION, LAPD § L O S A N G E L E S • C A L I F O R N I A[Outside the LAPD station, Mercedes waves from her beat-up hatchback, grinning like a kid before a school trip. The car is a riot of bumper stickers and faded paint, a testament to her free spirit. Carmen and Malcolm step out of the patrol car, stretching their legs in the cool morning air. The station looms behind them, a fortress of brick and glass.]
[Mercedes calls out, voice bright and eager, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot.]
MERCEDES:
Hey, cuz! Ready for another adventure?
[Carmen arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. She eyes her cousin with a mix of suspicion and affection, already steeling herself for whatever chaos Mercedes might bring.]
CARMEN:
How did you even get my schedule?
[Mercedes shrugs, all innocence and mischief. She hops out of her car, her sneakers scuffing the pavement as she bounces on her toes, energy radiating from every pore.]
MERCEDES:
I have my ways. Besides, Aunt Estelle said you needed company.
[Carmen turns to Malcolm, weary but resigned. She throws her hands up in a gesture of surrender, a silent plea for backup that Malcolm only answers with a knowing smirk.]
CARMEN:
Tell me again why I can’t just arrest her for loitering?
[They pile into the car. Mercedes wedges herself between the seats, buzzing with questions. She leans forward, elbows on the center console, eyes darting between Carmen and Malcolm like a kid at a magic show.]
MERCEDES:
So, Carmen, you ever catch any real bad guys? Like, bank robbers or something?
[Carmen rolls her eyes, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She glances at Mercedes in the rearview, her reflection a blur of excitement and mischief.]
CARMEN:
Mostly just traffic stops and noise complaints. Exciting, huh?
[Malcolm smirks, remembering wilder days. He drums his fingers on the wheel, a faraway look in his eyes as he recalls chases and close calls.]
MALCOLM:
And the occasional ice cream truck.
[The radio crackles to life—a call out to the streets: shoplifting, 4th and Main, blue hoodie. Carmen answers, voice steady. She sits up straighter, her posture shifting from relaxed to alert in an instant.]
CARMEN:
Copy that. We’re en route.
[Mercedes claps her hands, eyes shining. She bounces in her seat, unable to contain her excitement, as if she’s just won front-row tickets to her favorite show.]
MERCEDES:
Yes! This is what I’m talking about!
***
STOREFRONT, 4TH AND MAIN, LOS ANGELES • CALIFORNIA – DAWN[At the store, Carmen and Malcolm move in, Mercedes trailing behind, trying to look official. The storefront is a patchwork of neon signs and sale banners, the glass doors reflecting the morning sun. Inside, the aisles are narrow and crowded, the scent of fresh bread and cleaning supplies thick in the air. Carmen leans close to Malcolm, voice low, her eyes scanning the room for trouble.]
CARMEN:
Keep an eye on her, will you?
[Inside, the suspect bolts—right into Mercedes’ outstretched foot. He stumbles, caught off guard, his arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance. Mercedes stands there, grinning, her arms crossed triumphantly.]
MERCEDES:
You’re welcome.
[Carmen sighs, rubbing her temples. She pinches the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin, but a hint of a smile tugs at her lips despite herself.]
CARMEN:
Mercedes, you can’t just trip people!
[Mercedes shrugs, unrepentant. She dusts off her hands, as if she’s just completed a difficult task, her grin never fading.]
MERCEDES:
It worked, didn't it?
[Back in the car, Mercedes brags about her “police work.” She leans forward, her voice animated, gesturing wildly as she recounts her heroic tripping of the suspect. The car is filled with her laughter and the faint hum of the engine.]
MERCEDES:
See? I’m a natural. Maybe I should join the force!
[Carmen groans, slumping in her seat. She rests her head against the window, the cool glass pressing against her temple as she tries to tune out Mercedes’ enthusiasm.]
CARMEN:
No. Just… no.
[Malcolm laughs, shaking his head. He glances at Carmen in the rearview, his eyes twinkling with amusement, then turns his attention back to the road.]
MALCOLM:
I don’t know, Carmen. She’s got potential.
[Carmen shoots him a look, her eyebrows raised in warning. She points a finger at him, her expression a mix of exasperation and affection.]
CARMEN:
Don’t encourage her.
[Mercedes' phone rings—Aunt Estelle, checking in. Mercedes answers, her voice loud and cheerful, filling the car with chatter. She nods along, her free hand gesturing as she recounts the morning’s events.]
MERCEDES:
Hey, Aunt Estelle! Yeah, we caught a bad guy. Well, I helped anyway.
[Carmen rolls her eyes. Some things never changed. She watches the city blur past the window, the familiar streets a comforting backdrop to the chaos of her life.]
[At the end of their shift, Carmen and Malcolm walk Mercedes to her car at the station. The sun is higher now, casting long shadows across the asphalt. The air is warm, the scent of gasoline and pavement mixing with the faint aroma of coffee from a nearby cart. Mercedes bounces ahead, her energy undimmed by the long morning.]
MERCEDES:
Same time next week?
[Carmen shakes her head, her expression stern but her eyes soft. She crosses her arms, her posture relaxed, the tension of the morning finally easing.]
CARMEN:
Absolutely not.
[Mercedes grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She throws her arms around Carmen in a quick hug, then hops into her car, slamming the door with a satisfying thud.]
MERCEDES:
You say that every time. See you next week!
[She drives off, honking the horn, laughter trailing behind her. The sound echoes across the parking lot, a bright note in the quiet morning.]
[Malcolm watches her go, a smile tugging at his lips.]
MALCOLM:
You know, she’s kind of growing on me.
[Carmen smiles despite herself, shaking her head. She watches the hatchback disappear around the corner, the morning sun warm on her face.]
CARMEN:
Don’t tell her that.
[Malcolm and Carmen share a look—exhausted, amused, and somehow, ready for whatever comes next. Around them, the city pulses, endless and alive, as another shift ends—another day in the life, another round with family, another story to tell.]
[END]
~~~
Present Day ♦ P R E S C O T T V A L L E Y • A R I Z O N A[REC•][Camera opens at Watson Lake Park in Prescott Valley, Arizona. Mercedes Vargas sits on a smooth granite boulder by the water’s edge, the late afternoon sun casting golden light across the rugged landscape. Her championship belt rests across her lap. She gazes out at the horizon, then turns toward the camera, her eyes sharp, her tone confident and playful.]
"Alright, let’s get into it. Two weeks ago in Paris—Into the Void—I showed the world exactly what I’m made of. I stepped into that ring against Bella Madison, and I walked out champion. Not by luck. Not by fluke. Because when the lights are brightest—that’s when I shine."
[Mercedes grips the title belt, her knuckles whitening for a moment. She exhales, shaking her head with a playful grin.]
"Now, this Sunday at Climax Control, Bella wants her rematch. She wants another shot at this title, at me. And let’s be real—who wouldn’t? But here’s the thing: beating me once was never in the cards for her, and beating me twice? That’s a fantasy.
But let’s talk about what’s really going on here. Alexandra Calaway—Queen for a Day, huh? Booking this match like you’re doing me a favor. Let’s be honest, you’re just setting Bella up for another fall. No bet, just faith? That’s not faith, it’s fear. You won’t even bet a dollar on Bella, and that says everything. You’re all hype and no guts, Alexandra. You’re not just booking a match—you’re booking a disaster. For Bella. For yourself. For anyone dumb enough to doubt me."
[Mercedes runs a hand through her hair, a confident smirk playing at her lips as she stands up, slinging the title belt over her shoulder. She steps down from the rock, the crunch of gravel under her boots echoing in the quiet park.]
"Don't worry, I’ll make Bella’s loss so legendary, you’ll be apologizing to her for ever believing she had a chance—and to me for ever wasting my time. Seriously, Alexandra, if you had a dollar for every time you made a bad call, you’d be richer than the champ. But here you are, still betting on the wrong horse."
[She chuckles, shaking her head.]
"It's easy to see why you're rooting for Bella with nothing to lose. That’s because you’ve already lost your dignity. I’ll make sure both of you regret ever stepping into my spotlight. Bella’s going to wish she never met me—and you, Alexandra, are going to wish you never opened your mouth. I’ll be sure to win so hard, you’ll wish you’d cashed in on my name. I’ll make Bella’s defeat so brutal, even your support will need a refund. Watch and learn, darling."
[She walks closer to the camera, her boots kicking up a small cloud of dust. She points at the lens, her voice dropping to a determined growl.]
"I know Bella. I know what she brings. I’ve felt her best, and it wasn’t enough. And let me tell you, Bella wanted it. She wanted it bad. She came at me with everything she had. Heart, soul, grit, you name it. She’s got heart, she’s got fans, and she’s got something to prove. But guess what? So do I. I’ve got a legacy to build, a title to defend, and a reputation to uphold. And I don’t plan on letting anybody—especially not Bella—get in my way."
[Mercedes pauses, tapping the championship belt against her thigh, her eyes narrowing as the wind picks up. She leans in, voice dripping with confidence.]
“You hear that, Bella? That’s the sound of your window slamming shut. Paris was just the beginning. At Climax Control, I’m not just closing the door—I’m locking it. And you’re on the outside looking in.”
[Mercedes tilts her head, smirking at the camera.]
"You know, Bella, I've been thinking... You say you got a family waiting for you back home. That you're living your dream, like you're some kind of superhero. And I respect that. I really do. I love how you walk around like you're the first woman to juggle a family and a career. Yes, you CAN have it all!
"But, see, Bella, I'm not threatened by your story. I'm not threatened by your little girl, your husband, or your highlight reel. I've seen it all before. I've crushed fairy tales and rewritten endings. You think motherhood makes you strong? That somehow juggling a family and a career gives you an edge? Sweetheart, I've been carrying the weight of this entire division on my back. When you were learning to walk, I was running circles around the competition. While you were dreaming, I was making dreams come true."
[Her gaze sharpens, voice dripping with venom.]
"Real talk? Here it is: You're out of your league. You're playing in the big girl's sandbox, but you don't have the claws to survive the fight. While you're busy trying to prove you belong, I'm busy trying to remind the world why I own this division. You're fighting for acceptance; I'm fighting for immortality.
"You want your rematch, Bella? You got it. But remember what happened in Paris. Remember how I broke down every ounce of confidence you had and left you begging for mercy. Remember who walked out with the gold. And get ready, because this Sunday, I’m about to do it all over again—bigger, better, and more dominant than ever before.
"And to Alexandra—keep talking. Keep doubting. Because every time you open your mouth, you just remind everyone why I’m the champion. You’re not just betting against me—you’re betting against history. And history has a way of repeating itself."
[Mercedes turns away, looking out at the lake, the wind catching her hair. She takes a deep breath, then spins back to the camera, her expression fierce.]
"Bella, you’re chasing a dream. I’m living your nightmare."
[She paces along the water’s edge, the championship belt glinting in the sunlight. She stops, turning to face the camera, her eyes locked on the lens. Mercedes locks eyes with the camera, her voice low and intense.]
"You want to know what’s coming for you, Bella? Pain. Humiliation. And another trip to the back of the line. I don’t just beat my opponents—I break them. And at Climax Control, you’re about to learn that lesson all over again. The way I see it, I'm glad this match is happening. At Into the Void, you didn't just lose your title, you lost your place in this company. This time, after I win, I'll never have to see your face again. You'll be a cautionary tale. A warning to every girl who thinks she can step up and take what belongs to me.
"Paris remembered that night, Bella. Not that you walked in as champion, but that you walked out empty-handed. Because you walked into a storm, and the storm swallowed you whole. Because you stood across from greatness and you realized you were never ready for this level."
[She slaps the championship belt against her shoulder, the sound sharp and clear. She takes a step toward the camera, her eyes locked on the viewer.]
“So when the lights go out, when the crowd falls silent and you're left staring up at the ceiling - again - remember this feeling. Remember the taste of defeat. Because it's the taste of reality. And reality is spelled M-E-R-C-E-D-E-S.
"This Sunday at Climax Control, I’m not just defending my title—I’m making it clear: this is my era. And Bella, you’re just living in it. Long before you knew. And long after you'll remember."
[Mercedes leans back, a satisfied smirk on her face. She pats her championship belt and winks at the camera. The screen fades to black, leaving only the echoes of her words and the anticipation for Sunday’s showdown.]
[***Fade***]
