Post by Mercedes Vargas on Sept 25, 2012 17:07:27 GMT -6
{Outside of the Izod Center, long after the Battlegrounds PPV}
Jake! Jake!
(Mercedes yells and runs up to The Ace, who turns around and waits for her to catch up. Right then, she could sense the mix of emotions on his face after the events of the night's pay-per-view. Even after a tough loss in her own match, Mercedes never imagined what was to come later. In her first match back in months, Kathleen suffered what appeared to be a serious injury. Never mind the outcome, it was the heinous actions of her opponent that led to this dire situation.)
Mercedes: Jake, how is she?
The Ace: Kat will be fine, just a minor injury, a torn tendon. The least amount of time she will miss is about a month, give or take.
Mercedes: Well, that's a relief, at least. Still, I can't believe what that...that BITCH, Alysson, did to her! I know she's losing her touch, she's been losing matches - and even after tonight, she took the coward's way out winning by count out - and now she's losing her damn mind.
(Mercedes cannot meet his eyes.)
Mercedes: If only I would have been there, Kathleen never would have been hurt. How could I have been so selfish?
The Ace: Even if you were out there, who knew if Alysson had back up of her own? Ayla, Emma, or both could have shown up. And after what happened, you were probably still going through the motions after, you know, your title match loss.
(Mercedes sighs deeply.)
Mercedes: Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Battlegrounds left a bitter taste in my mouth - again. With the Road to the Gold Tournament coming up, I may have made things even tougher on myself. I don't think anyone forgot how I got bounced from the first round last year.
The Ace: Hey, hey. Stop that now.
(Jake reaches out and put both his hands on her shoulders and Mercedes looked up at him in surprise.)
The Ace: We both know you're talented and have the ability to go far in this tournament, but only you can decide that. Who knows? If the stars align, maybe you will get a re-match with Jennifer?
Mercedes: I guess you're right. Listen, I'm going to take off. The moment Kathleen's injury improves, let me know?
The Ace: Sure.
(Mercedes turns and walks off as our scene fades with The Ace standing there, waiting a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction.)
What else needs to be said? 48 hours. 48 hours removed form that debacle in Joisy, what more else needs to be said?
That 24-hour diners and gym, tan, and laundry are the only things New Jersey is known for? That I was pinned by Jennifer Williams for the fourth time this year? That I don't have what it takes to capture the Women's Championship? That Jennifer is the end all, be all of the Starlets Division?
Or is it that she was what I thought she was?
If you haven't guessed it by now, Jennifer Williams is STILL a fluke. It doesn't matter how many times she beats me, or raises that title in the air, she's just a paper champion just waiting to happen. And now that her reign continues until the Road to the Gold pay-per-view, her days truly are numbered.
Jennifer, luck won't be on your side, sweetheart. Not this time. With the possible opponents you could be facing at the next pay-per-view, you really will have to step it up. It could be Emma Danielson. It could be Shelly Taylor-Jones. It could be Alysson. It could be Sydney.
Hell, it could even be me.
Nervous? Oh, you should be. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you are. It’s not everyday that someone takes times out to actually pay attention to you. And that could mean good things, or bad. You think crying about not knowing who your opponent was until A New Dawn was bad? Oh, you have NO idea just how deep you're in now.
So, you go on ahead, Jenny. You go on ahead and twittle your thumbs, which is probably around a game controller as I speak. You go ahead and ease up behind the desk in your office chair while this tournament plays out. When the pay-per-view comes around, you won't be just a paper champion, or a fluke for that matter.
You'll just be a statistic.
Don't put off for tomorrow what you can do today. I wonder who came up with that gem because they must have had a lot of enthusiasm. Most mornings, I can't even get out of bed.
(As our scene opens, we find Mercedes just waking up as she slowly sits up, yawning, and then stretching her body. Turning to her nightstand, she glances at the alarm clock. It read 8:30. She falls back against the pillows, trying to get back to sleep and groans.)
Even though I couldn't fall back to sleep, I didn't want to wake up either. Weekends are supposed to be relaxing, enjoyable, fun. And I want to have then all to myself, is that too much to ask? Well, forget about that.
(Giving up hope, Mercedes pulls off the covers, forcing herself out of bed as she slips her feet into a pair of slippers and heads for the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror, the expressionless reflection stares back at her.)
As long as I have the rest of my sentencing to carry out, there won't be any sleep-ins anytime soon. Oh, who am I to complain? I'm just doing my service to the community, I guess. But did it had to be so early?
Mercedes: Well, Merce, today is the first day of the rest of your life. Better get used to it. The sooner you get done with community service and that letter, the better it will be for having the weekend to yourself.
Wait a minute. Was I talking to myself? Only crazy people talk to themselves. And even then in the mirror. The last person I want to turn into right now is Crystal Hilton. God forbid this doesn't start to become temporary.
(She splashes the cold water on her face and blinks twice, trying to get the sleep from her eyes.)
Well, this weekend was a total washout. I expected to walk out of Battlegrounds with a new accessory around my waist, but, alas, that did not happen. I am ashamed. I am ashamed to admit that the FLUKE continues. Le sigh. Next stop: The Road to the Gold Tournament, where I have a first-round match to win Saturday night.
(Raking a hand through her dishelmed hair, Mercedes smiles to herself in the mirror, turning off the faucet.)
And someone's dreams to crush along the way.
(The halls of the 115th Precinct smells of formaldehyde and some other chemicals Mercedes could not place as she makes her way down the hallway.)
But before I had my date with destiny....
(She stops at a door and we see the name of Scott Wagner, Colonel, painted in black on the glass window.)
I had a date with Colonel Scott Wagner. As a member of New York's Finest, he's the person I was assigned to work with for the duration of my time. There was one thing he hated more than the crime that plagued the city.
(As the door opens, we see the officer leaning against the front of his desk, arms crossed, and a stern expression on his face.)
Colonel Scott Wagner: You're late, Vargas.
Lack of punctuality.
(Mercedes enters the office and after mustering a nervous smile, closes the door behind her.)
Mercedes: I can explain.
Colonel Scott Wagner: What is it this time? You couldn't decide what to wear? Lost your keys? You got lost on your way? The stoplight was on red for the past three hours? You couldn't sleep so you started counting sheep and didn't know when to stop? (pauses with a questioning gaze.) Need I go on?
Oh, he was good, very good. All I can stand is in awe at some of my best lines. Somewhere stored in his desk, there's probably a composition book full of them.
(Mercedes turns to the wall, which were filled with a collage of awards, newspaper clippings of heroics, and a white-washed board which was already lined up like a baseball scoreboard. The Mets were playing Pittsburgh today as part of a three game series through Thursday and the final games of an 11-game home stand. Turning back to the officer, she looks him into his eyes, as grey as the steel nameplate that lined his desk.)
Mercedes: Well, not exactly, uh, sir. See, I'm a professional wrestler and I work for this company on the weekends and we had a pay-per-view in New Jersey, so I'm a little worse for wear.
Even as I went through my explanation, I don't think he showed one inch of empathy, not a one. Other than his duty to protect and serve, he also had a reputation to uphold.
Colonel Scott Wagner: Worse for wear, huh? (grabbing a manila folder from a tray next to him) I hope you feel much better after you complete your assignments.
(Colonel Wagner gets to his feet, showing what appeared to be a smirk on his face. When he walks pasts Mercedes, he pats her on the shoulder.)
Colonel Scott Wagner: It's going to be a long day.
(Mercedes watches him as he walks away, her eyes following him until he disappears, turning the corner. With the weight of the folder in her hand, it was not going to be a good day. Mercedes looks up and groans as she leaves his office.)
And look who will be on the Trauma Road to the Gold Tournament - again - facing an otherwise inferior opponent.
That would be me.
Of all the people they could have paired me with, I just didn't think it would be Malibu Stacy.
That would be you, Skye Armani.
And for you, this will be your first time as part of the field, congrats are in order. But don't thank me just yet, because I won't be in a mood to celebrate come Saturday. Far. From. It. I still have a lot of pent up aggression a mile wide from Battlegrounds, and I need an outlet to release my frustrations on.
You will do just fine.
Now, just in case you forgot what happened between us the last time we met, just in case, Skye, you might want to go over some of your mistakes you made a little over two months ago. You're still new, which means you're prone to making some more.
And possibly letting history repeat itself. Because that's exactly what is going to happen. Unless, of course, you prove me wrong. If you don't...
you'll prove me right. I like to think I usually am.
Well, most of the time, anyway.
But don't worry, sweetheart, this will be fun for the both of us - well, more so for me - and nothing would make me happier than dropping you on your head with the Black...Rose...Overdrive. Or maybe you're a screamer. Maybe you just love the sound of your voice. I have the perfect remedy for that, too. It's called the Peligro Rojo 2. Trust me, you'll be breaking the sound barrier in no time flat. Have you missed your last visit at the chiropractor? Need a little re-alignment in your spine? Well, say no more! After the Cortina Roja, you'll be begging for regular appointments from now on. Don't forget the humiliation you'll feel after you fall flat on your face following the STO backbreaker.
With so many choices, I know it will be difficult to pick just one, Skye, but you have plenty of time until our match to choose the finisher that will cause you the least embarrassment. Well, all of them will cause you the least embarrassment.
I guess you really don't have much choice at all.
If there is one thing I know - and I tend to know a lot of things - I wouldn't want to be you Saturday night. And the last thing I want to be is envious of anybody, especially you. Please, try to understand, Skye. I don't want to be you.
I just want to beat you.
Jake! Jake!
(Mercedes yells and runs up to The Ace, who turns around and waits for her to catch up. Right then, she could sense the mix of emotions on his face after the events of the night's pay-per-view. Even after a tough loss in her own match, Mercedes never imagined what was to come later. In her first match back in months, Kathleen suffered what appeared to be a serious injury. Never mind the outcome, it was the heinous actions of her opponent that led to this dire situation.)
Mercedes: Jake, how is she?
The Ace: Kat will be fine, just a minor injury, a torn tendon. The least amount of time she will miss is about a month, give or take.
Mercedes: Well, that's a relief, at least. Still, I can't believe what that...that BITCH, Alysson, did to her! I know she's losing her touch, she's been losing matches - and even after tonight, she took the coward's way out winning by count out - and now she's losing her damn mind.
(Mercedes cannot meet his eyes.)
Mercedes: If only I would have been there, Kathleen never would have been hurt. How could I have been so selfish?
The Ace: Even if you were out there, who knew if Alysson had back up of her own? Ayla, Emma, or both could have shown up. And after what happened, you were probably still going through the motions after, you know, your title match loss.
(Mercedes sighs deeply.)
Mercedes: Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Battlegrounds left a bitter taste in my mouth - again. With the Road to the Gold Tournament coming up, I may have made things even tougher on myself. I don't think anyone forgot how I got bounced from the first round last year.
The Ace: Hey, hey. Stop that now.
(Jake reaches out and put both his hands on her shoulders and Mercedes looked up at him in surprise.)
The Ace: We both know you're talented and have the ability to go far in this tournament, but only you can decide that. Who knows? If the stars align, maybe you will get a re-match with Jennifer?
Mercedes: I guess you're right. Listen, I'm going to take off. The moment Kathleen's injury improves, let me know?
The Ace: Sure.
(Mercedes turns and walks off as our scene fades with The Ace standing there, waiting a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction.)
_______≈₪≈______
What else needs to be said? 48 hours. 48 hours removed form that debacle in Joisy, what more else needs to be said?
That 24-hour diners and gym, tan, and laundry are the only things New Jersey is known for? That I was pinned by Jennifer Williams for the fourth time this year? That I don't have what it takes to capture the Women's Championship? That Jennifer is the end all, be all of the Starlets Division?
Or is it that she was what I thought she was?
If you haven't guessed it by now, Jennifer Williams is STILL a fluke. It doesn't matter how many times she beats me, or raises that title in the air, she's just a paper champion just waiting to happen. And now that her reign continues until the Road to the Gold pay-per-view, her days truly are numbered.
Jennifer, luck won't be on your side, sweetheart. Not this time. With the possible opponents you could be facing at the next pay-per-view, you really will have to step it up. It could be Emma Danielson. It could be Shelly Taylor-Jones. It could be Alysson. It could be Sydney.
Hell, it could even be me.
Nervous? Oh, you should be. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you are. It’s not everyday that someone takes times out to actually pay attention to you. And that could mean good things, or bad. You think crying about not knowing who your opponent was until A New Dawn was bad? Oh, you have NO idea just how deep you're in now.
So, you go on ahead, Jenny. You go on ahead and twittle your thumbs, which is probably around a game controller as I speak. You go ahead and ease up behind the desk in your office chair while this tournament plays out. When the pay-per-view comes around, you won't be just a paper champion, or a fluke for that matter.
You'll just be a statistic.
_______≈₪≈______
Don't put off for tomorrow what you can do today. I wonder who came up with that gem because they must have had a lot of enthusiasm. Most mornings, I can't even get out of bed.
(As our scene opens, we find Mercedes just waking up as she slowly sits up, yawning, and then stretching her body. Turning to her nightstand, she glances at the alarm clock. It read 8:30. She falls back against the pillows, trying to get back to sleep and groans.)
Even though I couldn't fall back to sleep, I didn't want to wake up either. Weekends are supposed to be relaxing, enjoyable, fun. And I want to have then all to myself, is that too much to ask? Well, forget about that.
(Giving up hope, Mercedes pulls off the covers, forcing herself out of bed as she slips her feet into a pair of slippers and heads for the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror, the expressionless reflection stares back at her.)
As long as I have the rest of my sentencing to carry out, there won't be any sleep-ins anytime soon. Oh, who am I to complain? I'm just doing my service to the community, I guess. But did it had to be so early?
Mercedes: Well, Merce, today is the first day of the rest of your life. Better get used to it. The sooner you get done with community service and that letter, the better it will be for having the weekend to yourself.
Wait a minute. Was I talking to myself? Only crazy people talk to themselves. And even then in the mirror. The last person I want to turn into right now is Crystal Hilton. God forbid this doesn't start to become temporary.
(She splashes the cold water on her face and blinks twice, trying to get the sleep from her eyes.)
Well, this weekend was a total washout. I expected to walk out of Battlegrounds with a new accessory around my waist, but, alas, that did not happen. I am ashamed. I am ashamed to admit that the FLUKE continues. Le sigh. Next stop: The Road to the Gold Tournament, where I have a first-round match to win Saturday night.
(Raking a hand through her dishelmed hair, Mercedes smiles to herself in the mirror, turning off the faucet.)
And someone's dreams to crush along the way.
* * * * *
(The halls of the 115th Precinct smells of formaldehyde and some other chemicals Mercedes could not place as she makes her way down the hallway.)
But before I had my date with destiny....
(She stops at a door and we see the name of Scott Wagner, Colonel, painted in black on the glass window.)
I had a date with Colonel Scott Wagner. As a member of New York's Finest, he's the person I was assigned to work with for the duration of my time. There was one thing he hated more than the crime that plagued the city.
(As the door opens, we see the officer leaning against the front of his desk, arms crossed, and a stern expression on his face.)
Colonel Scott Wagner: You're late, Vargas.
Lack of punctuality.
(Mercedes enters the office and after mustering a nervous smile, closes the door behind her.)
Mercedes: I can explain.
Colonel Scott Wagner: What is it this time? You couldn't decide what to wear? Lost your keys? You got lost on your way? The stoplight was on red for the past three hours? You couldn't sleep so you started counting sheep and didn't know when to stop? (pauses with a questioning gaze.) Need I go on?
Oh, he was good, very good. All I can stand is in awe at some of my best lines. Somewhere stored in his desk, there's probably a composition book full of them.
(Mercedes turns to the wall, which were filled with a collage of awards, newspaper clippings of heroics, and a white-washed board which was already lined up like a baseball scoreboard. The Mets were playing Pittsburgh today as part of a three game series through Thursday and the final games of an 11-game home stand. Turning back to the officer, she looks him into his eyes, as grey as the steel nameplate that lined his desk.)
Mercedes: Well, not exactly, uh, sir. See, I'm a professional wrestler and I work for this company on the weekends and we had a pay-per-view in New Jersey, so I'm a little worse for wear.
Even as I went through my explanation, I don't think he showed one inch of empathy, not a one. Other than his duty to protect and serve, he also had a reputation to uphold.
Colonel Scott Wagner: Worse for wear, huh? (grabbing a manila folder from a tray next to him) I hope you feel much better after you complete your assignments.
(Colonel Wagner gets to his feet, showing what appeared to be a smirk on his face. When he walks pasts Mercedes, he pats her on the shoulder.)
Colonel Scott Wagner: It's going to be a long day.
(Mercedes watches him as he walks away, her eyes following him until he disappears, turning the corner. With the weight of the folder in her hand, it was not going to be a good day. Mercedes looks up and groans as she leaves his office.)
_______≈₪≈______
And look who will be on the Trauma Road to the Gold Tournament - again - facing an otherwise inferior opponent.
That would be me.
Of all the people they could have paired me with, I just didn't think it would be Malibu Stacy.
That would be you, Skye Armani.
And for you, this will be your first time as part of the field, congrats are in order. But don't thank me just yet, because I won't be in a mood to celebrate come Saturday. Far. From. It. I still have a lot of pent up aggression a mile wide from Battlegrounds, and I need an outlet to release my frustrations on.
You will do just fine.
Now, just in case you forgot what happened between us the last time we met, just in case, Skye, you might want to go over some of your mistakes you made a little over two months ago. You're still new, which means you're prone to making some more.
And possibly letting history repeat itself. Because that's exactly what is going to happen. Unless, of course, you prove me wrong. If you don't...
you'll prove me right. I like to think I usually am.
Well, most of the time, anyway.
But don't worry, sweetheart, this will be fun for the both of us - well, more so for me - and nothing would make me happier than dropping you on your head with the Black...Rose...Overdrive. Or maybe you're a screamer. Maybe you just love the sound of your voice. I have the perfect remedy for that, too. It's called the Peligro Rojo 2. Trust me, you'll be breaking the sound barrier in no time flat. Have you missed your last visit at the chiropractor? Need a little re-alignment in your spine? Well, say no more! After the Cortina Roja, you'll be begging for regular appointments from now on. Don't forget the humiliation you'll feel after you fall flat on your face following the STO backbreaker.
With so many choices, I know it will be difficult to pick just one, Skye, but you have plenty of time until our match to choose the finisher that will cause you the least embarrassment. Well, all of them will cause you the least embarrassment.
I guess you really don't have much choice at all.
If there is one thing I know - and I tend to know a lot of things - I wouldn't want to be you Saturday night. And the last thing I want to be is envious of anybody, especially you. Please, try to understand, Skye. I don't want to be you.
I just want to beat you.