04-23-2020, 11:58 PM
6:30 AM.
Those kids--no, those competitors. They brought it, and they called him on his bullshit. When he was backstage and he heard them speak, he chuckled. Devin wondered if Lyza heard him. Pina Coladas were spunky and they were driven. They told him that they heard what he said before, which was fair. They might not have entirely understood his point but he was entertained by their antics. And they beat him and Lyza.
Commendable.
The growing pains in his body were an annoyance, but Devin Brando was in the ring again, and he was alive.
Though when the time came for companies to die, Devin did not rush for something else. Instead, he kept away from the business that he was aiming to taint. He went home, to the coldness and loneliness. The solitude helped him because it forced him to confront his demons. Devin did not challenge them, no, he merely allowed them to stay with him. He found it hypocritical to try to kill them when he was the one to invite them in.
As he looked himself in the mirror, each time he got a chance to stare into his eyes, he did. A man could not walk through life without being to do so. Unfortunately, Devin found a bruise around his eye. It did not bother him as much as it tickled him. The injury was coupled with some wrinkles, and that fact almost made him laugh. It was probably a kick from Delilah. The point of the foot caught him flush, and he did not feel anything, due to the intensity of it. The thought removed him from any other self-reflection. And he was thankful.
It was disappointing to lose to the younger generation, but it was not the first time that it happened to the eleven-year veteran. In fact, it was promising, and it showed how the wrestling world would be shaped. In addition, he and Lyza padded their rough start with a win. They were still in the running, and it became a test of whoever could try to keep striving beyond 2nd place.
“What am I doing chasing some kids for first place?” Devin mumbled to himself.
When he drew the curtains, he was greeted by the now-familiar brightness of Puerto Rico. It still seared his eyes a bit. He would not get used to it; his eyes were accumulated to the darkness of Canada. Luckily, he had bought some shades prior to heading to the arena. He stretched his back, feeling a remnant of pain there. The mix of pain from the matches and nagging injuries came to haunt him early in the morning. He decided to go ahead and get his workout, perhaps it would alleviate some of the aching.
When he was done, the world began to wake up. Once it got its own stretches in, Devin had already packed his bags and was waiting for the time to leave. He was going from one bright place to another. Yet, in Puerto Rico, he had some history. Several rivals-turned-friends invited him out. It was not entirely unfamiliar to him. Jamaica was not a place he had ever dreamt of going to. The climate was not his interest nor was it a locale that he found he would thrive in. His phone buzzed with a notification. When he picked it up, he noted the time.
There was a text from Lyza. Seeing her name made him squint.
“Why did I let you talk me into this?”
He snickered at the message and attempted to stuff his phone back into his pocket. When he did, it felt it vibrate--a phone call. He took it back out, expecting to see Lyza’s name. That wasn’t the case. Instead, the name that he saw was one that sent shivers down his spine. Devin narrowed his eyes and answered it, regardless of how he felt internally.
“Hello, Sirena,” he greeted his former boss.
“Приветик,” Sirena van Dyne greeted Devin with a tone that he was unfamiliar with. It was too sweet, but he knew that it was her making fun of the situation already. She let out a light giggle. “It has been far too long,” she continued.
“Yes, it has been. For good reason,” Devin explained, opting to sit down in the nearest chair.
“I’m hurt, Devin,” Sirena’s voice returned back to what he was familiar with, the dry, stoic expression.
“No, you’re not,” it was an immediate retort, something he hardly thought about.
“Well, if I wasn’t before, I definitely am now. I see that playing with that young lady has gotten you a tad more brazen,” a veiled expression of hostility, “and I don’t know if I like it or not.”
“Right,” Devin said. “What do you need, Sirena? You’re not one to call someone to check in on them. You don’t even do that with your daughter.”
Sirena remained quiet but broke said silence with a sharp breath. “Devin, you don’t have to be so miserable about this. I’m not calling you to come back. I’m calling you because I’m honestly concerned.”
“Concerned? I’m fine.”
“No, for your well-being. There have been reports of some of your former co-workers being targeted by someone. We figured it out recently, and I need you to stay cautious. It’d be a shame if you were--” Sirena paused. Devin was about to reply, but soon enough, Sirena piped up. “I don’t want to find you dead somewhere for something that I did.”
“For something you did?” Devin addressed the most pressing statement. “Sirena, what did you do?”
Sirena van Dyne was a businesswoman in every sense of the word. Her pharmaceutical company, Blacklight, was always doing well. Though it came with its questionable decisions and its secrets that many people never heard of. Sirena never slipped up, Devin knew this much. Even if she did, no one would ever know because she was an expert at being able to bounce back at a moment’s notice. Small failures were merely audibles for her, and she made good on all of them in Devin’s experience of working for her.
Though his work wasn’t always so pleasant.
“Someone found out the truth.”
Those words struck Devin with a gravity he wasn’t expecting.
“What are you talking about, Sirena?”
Sirena did not answer, perhaps because she didn’t want to. “Be careful, Devin. And...keep your new friend safe. She seems like a good person.”
The CEO hung up the phone, leaving Devin with only a palpable silence to comfort him.
It was pointless to try to process it anymore. Yet, it left him with some pause about staying within the hotel. If Sirena called him and knew what Devin was up to, he wasn’t safe. It was an annoyance if anything. He didn’t get to try the cuisine that the driver told him to when he got into town. Frustrations aside, Devin Brando scooped up his bags and made his way for the airport.
He could only hope that there wasn’t anyone after him.
She never doubted the potential from rookie competitors in the past, yet she was able to come out on top in the end. What was different about The Pina Coladas? Their natural talent along with the teachings of decorated wrestlers permeated through them. If she were to recommend wrestlers to follow when the current talent retires, it’d be them.
Despite the outcome, she had no intention of giving up on the team she formed with Devin as there was room for improvement. She knew there was something from the moment she had a sparring session with him. Being a successful team also entails to each member having the capacity to challenge the other. Redemption was achieved on night two after defeating Honourable Win, a team consisting of seasoned wrestlers. The added pressure of needing to be on the scoreboard may have lit a spark within her to keep pushing forward. Raise a shoulder, kick out, do whatever was needed to stay alive and that she did along with her partner.
There’s a side that Miss Reyes has masterfully maintained under wraps from the general public and even her loved ones. She hides in plain sight, often coming off as non-threatening and inviting, but behind her charm and bright smile, there was an added layer of mystery. Some sleuths have attempted to unveil what was beneath, but to no avail - thanks to her ability to stay a few steps ahead.
With disease supposedly being at every turn and corner, she seems relaxed walking on Water Street in downtown, Manhattan. Rather than an over-the-top costume as an alternative to protective gear, she dons a tan trench coat and knee-high boots. Rather than wearing a face mask, her face remains covered with a scarf. She stood out from the scattered joggers and bike riders that were out for their evening exercise in athletic gear.
She finds her destination on a cobblestone road, which at one point was filled with benches and chairs for patrons to sip and eat next to their restaurant or bar of choice. The Dead Mouse Grocery and Frog, a bar she has frequented in the past looks abandoned from the outside. A sign on the front says, “Delivery & Takeout Only. This includes frozen margaritas and any beer that’s not Corona.”
She scoffs at the sign before opening the door with a gloved hand. There’s a young woman behind the bar packing to-go goods in a paper bag and a male in a bike helmet waiting to take the order for delivery. Lyza steps to the side, leaving the path clear for the gentleman to exit. She then walks up to the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to acknowledge her after making a quick run to the kitchen with a new online order that came in.
“Hey, there. What can I get for ya?” The bartender asks in a cheery tone.
Lyza unwraps the scarf and leans in slightly, citing the following,
“Pablo Neruda, he’ll accept that. Meet me at the end,” the young woman instructs.
Lyza turns to her left to walk over to the end of the bar. The bartender extends her hands to take Lyza’s coat, showing off a navy blue cocktail dress underneath. She then leads the way to the kitchen, walking past the prep area and the cook who remains focused on his job as he dips a basket of breaded calamari in a deep fryer.
They reach the end of the kitchen and enter the walk-in refrigerator. Lyza shivers a bit while looking around the room, seeing the usual array of vegetables and boxes of assorted meats and seafood. The bartender stops at the end of the storage area and reaches down to pull a handle from the floor. She raises the disguised door from beneath, and points over to Lyza to make her way.
There was no point in turning back. She carefully makes her way over to the hole, stepping inside to reach a set of stairs going downward. A dim light guides her as she makes it to the bottom. She looks behind her, seeing the bartender lower the door from the food storage area.
Alone, Lyza walks past the empty cellar until she reaches another door that takes her through a narrow hallway. The music blaring was indicative of how close she was to reaching point b in this evening venture. She turns to her right and pushes the double doors ahead of her to find a decorated room filled with dozens of individuals dressed to the nines, dancing, and mingling against New York state orders. Servers circulated the room with trays of appetizers and champagne. Upon taking a closer look, some of the guests’ faces were recognizable from TV and social media. Celebrity chefs, plastic surgeons, musicians, actors, and so forth are gathering as if a global pandemic was nonexistent.
“I bet some of these pendejos posted pictures of themselves in pajamas with sad expressions adding a ‘stay home’ hashtag,” she says to herself in a sarcastic tone.
“Watch out!” yells a man, who gently moves Lyza out of the way to catch a roll of toilet paper that was thrown at him like a football.
“Hello, fellow non-essential,” Lyza quips, noticing the man’s athletic ability and physique. She keeps it moving, maintaining her destination in mind. It fascinated her that as soon as she would step out of this establishment, the vibe would be the complete opposite. Being surrounded by individuals with uncovered faces, laughing, and exchanging words within inches of one another felt...wrong.
She spots a round table with four middle-aged men smoking cigars and walks towards them with purpose. She pulls an empty chair towards her and takes a seat to join them. The man across from her snaps his fingers for the remaining individuals to clear the area. Once they leave, the man proceeds with greeting her.
“Lyza. It takes the world going to hell for you to pay you number one fan a visit?”
“That’s just the cherry on top of everything else. I’m here to tell you that I’m done with this game of ping pong, Glen. I need to get in touch with your superior,” she says, calmly.
“I’ll see what can be arranged,” he says, putting out the cigar over an ashtray. “You know, you must be special considering the amount of patience that is required in dealing with you through the years. How’s young Diana doing?”
Lyza’s heart nearly broke at the memory of the little girl she fostered. Diana was another kept secret as she didn’t want to exploit the circumstances. She just wanted to help out a family in need while they sorted their immigration status.
“Better, now that she’s reunited with her family,” Lyza replies. She scans the room quickly in search of vigilant eyes, including the surveillance system. “I meant what I said. The surprise visits, the cryptic shit - all of that has to go. I’m not the weapon or whatever it is that the higher-ups want to call it.”
“That’s where it gets complicated. You are close to becoming what my superior envisioned, and you were one of the few to survive the process to date. I’d say you were born to do this.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t even believe that my mother’s doctor was transparent” she says, shaking her head “no” at one of the servers offering her a drink. Feeling defeated, she lets out a sigh. “Let me get through the remainder of spring. I need to at least feel something other than what’s happening here.”
There was no reason for her to stick around unless the person she actually wanted to speak with would agree to meet. She gets up from her seat and walks away from Glen and the COVID Party. She gets to the narrow hallway en route to the main level of the venue. On the opposite side, there’s a rotund man in a pinstripe suit and a fedora who approaches her.
“Leaving already? C’mon, it’s not like you have anywhere else to be. I could really make it worthwhile for you,” he says, running a finger over her gloved hand.
“Nah,” she says, pulling away. She steps to the side to distance herself further as she continues walking. The man turns around, catches up to her again, and places his hand on the small of her back. Lyza hits him with her left elbow and quickly turns around to knee him in the midsection. As he hits the ground, the hallway goes pitch black. She kicks him while he’s down several times until she can no longer feel him attempting to fight back.
“AY! ‘Cha doin’?” a voice echoes from the party room entrance. The lights come back on in the hallway. Glen and his associates rush over to see the man in the pinstripes laid out on the cold concrete floor seemingly stunned by what just happened to him.
“One of our VIP’s. This is a problem,” Glen says as his associates try to help the fallen man.
“Greetings and salutations to the viewers and listeners. I hope you’re all safe and sound! My associate and I are delighted to be here before heading to Jamaica and Cuba for the World’s Best: Tag Team Tournament.”
She nods reassuringly while Devin maintains a neutral expression.
“With some downtime between rounds, of course, there was an opportunity to properly reflect and let things marinate in our heads after what happened on nights one and two of the tournament. Between night one and two, there was that brief period of hurt after coming up short against The Pina Coladas. Much like an energetic toddler bumping into something, I took the fall and had no choice but to get up without hesitation as night two was still in the cards. Losing back to back would be devastating and would be a disservice to my partner, the fans, and anyone with expectations of us putting forth an excellent fight.
For the amount of content received and hours spent reviewing talent footage, SCW narrowed it down to six tag teams. Mind you, there were likely to be entrants with years of experience working as a unit, but they chose Devin and yours truly. So for me to throw it away like that? I wasn’t going to let it happen. And if you were to believe that our victory against Honourable Win was nothing else but a fluke? Then I don’t know what to tell ya.”
There was a brief silence as Lyza looked away from the camera to gather her thoughts.
“Nights one and two clearly set the tone of what to prepare for. There’s no denying the flaws and miscalculations that were displayed. Synchronization and receptivity were slightly delayed which I take responsibility for. I pride myself on being an easy person to work with and I’m all for collaborating when the reward is high. Obviously I had a moment of weakness where I wanted to prove that I was more than capable when instead I overcompensated. Rest assured that this isn’t habitual or something I’m known for. If anything, I was told in the past that I needed to come out of my shell more. Imagine me holding back? Balance. It always comes back to finding a balance between complacency and chaos.
And that’s where I get to test things out with The Dresser Boys. Marcus V. Lopez and Violator’s reunion from what I was told was something you’d see in a James Franco and Seth Rogan project. Marcus being a casual-cool cat with trying to get the band back together, you couldn’t help but cheer for the guy! And in a moment where the camera focused on Violator, capturing his expression as the viewers clenched to their seats wondering if he would say yes or no. I’ve seen prom proposal videos and that was nothing compared to the interaction between The Dresser Boys at the Devil’s Lettuce Shop in New Joizy!”
Her sarcastic nature shines as she makes devil horns with her hands. Devin shakes his head, not saying anything. Yet, there’s a sliver of a grin on his face that he’s trying to hide.
“It’s going to take more than war paint and channeling a furry friend to get one over us. Granted, I did notice the creativity of Marcus in using the ropes as a weapon for his opponent Jamarcus. This allowed Violator to capitalize on his submission hold on Faustina, which will not happen in round three. So if you’re still feeling crafty, make sure to have plans B, C, and D on deck.”
She glances over at Devin, nudging him gently to take his turn. Devin doesn’t talk at first until Lyza’s nudging becomes a tad harder. Soon enough, he lets out a low groan. The Last King isn’t dressed in any ceremonial, no, he let Lyza handle that front. He stares at the throne with a questionable expression before letting his focus settle on the camera and the promotional material at hand.
“Sadly, Violator decided to get into my face.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Unlike Pina Coladas, I don’t have the respect for people who lose themselves to the hype. Maybe there was something in the air. Maybe the return to the ring got the man a little too jumpy, but he decided to mouth off to me. And well, I take umbrage with that. If I recall his exact words--”
Devin clears his throat unceremoniously. Earlier, he had been quiet and non-attentive. Yet, his cold glare settles on the camera, invoking the feeling of clear hostility.
“My ass was next?”
Narrowing his eyes, Devin allows the quote to linger in the air.
“Momentum is a powerful thing, I know from experience. In this game of chasing the first place position, it’s the momentum that will begin to tell the story of the victors. For me, though, it always helps to have some agitation fueling your punches. I don’t particularly care for people that don’t know when to keep walking.”
For a moment, the quiet visage Devin had faded into something more aggressive. Though, Devin’s attention trickles over to his tag team partner. Lyza stands there, twirling around her specter. The act makes Devin drop his vicious stance, and he lets it go with a sigh.
“So then, what are you going to do to ensure that my partner and I lose to you two? See, I’m a dosage of reality. Lyza stated that your entire purpose here is the comeback tour, the buddy stoner movie, and possibly a feel-good story. But when you step to us, the script is going to change a bit. I’m not going to say there won’t be a happy ending. I find that to be crass. You two have plenty of the tournament left to succeed.”
He offers the camera a smirk.
“This match, though? It’s the bump in the road that every protagonist has to go on to change themselves. Maybe this coming loss will tell you all that what you bring to the table isn’t enough. Maybe it tells you both to get your act entirely together. It may just tell you that you made a mistake in trying to antagonize people. I’m not sure what conclusion you’re going to find, but it will be just like how it was with Honourable Win.”
“However, as always, there’s someone else. We have Seduction. They’re another team with unfinished business,” Devin says, arching an eyebrow. Perhaps the amount of teams with that inspiration gets to him. “The first time that I’ve seen them, they presented their resume to me. Although it was impressive, I couldn’t do anything but ignore it. Because this is a tournament where anyone can win. Pina Coladas are a testament to that statement. So, in this realm, what do resumes provide for us?”
“Nothing but wasted time.”
The corner of Devin’s mouth tugs downward.
“And you’ve spent additional time speaking on your sex lives, minor political stances, and any other things that derailed what you were speaking on.”
“Now beyond some statistics that don’t really matter, what do you offer?”
Devin looks as if he was about to say something egregious. However, with a soft chuckle, he changes paths.
“That’s the advantage you have. Lyza and I aren’t as close as you two,” Devin briefly looks over to his tag partner and back, “and that’s beautiful in a way. Though, how fleeting can that unity be in the face of hungry competitors like Lyza and myself? If we go back to the idea of momentum, yours got shot when you fell to Pina Coladas. So, you’re chasing what we already have--you want what we have. And like the Dresser Boys, we have no time to waste giving you two that chance.”
With that being said, Lyza looks at the camera matter-of-factly.
“He’s got a point there, ladies. What good is a two-page resume when you’re getting passed on for upstarts fresh out of their graduation ceremony? Having unfinished business can be a bit of a pain because all you want to do is move on. Being married, adopting a child, surely there’s a picket fence somewhere. ‘Unfinished business’ is such a drag. Wouldn’t Dr. Grace Morningwood be of better use at the ‘front lines’ or somewhere around that? But hey, do you. Nobody’s stopping you from aspiring to be the top team. And with being as close-knit as you two are, it’s nice to have that shoulder to cry on and openly express concerns to one another. Take that as some sort of consolation if you must.”
She shrugs lightly.
“And we offer our condolences,” Devin says leaning forward. Lyza does her classic wink and finger gun gesture as the scene fades to black.
Devin Brando’s eyes snapped open upon hearing the first note of his alarm. He did not respond with a groan or a tired attempt to hit the snore button. He rose, cracking his shoulder as he often did. When he did, he felt a glimmer of pain on his side, nestled underneath his ribs. When he looked down, he saw a bruise had formed. Without a second thought, he pressed his fingers against it, and it was fresh. It was the result of his work earlier but instead of wincing, Devin could only smile.
Those kids--no, those competitors. They brought it, and they called him on his bullshit. When he was backstage and he heard them speak, he chuckled. Devin wondered if Lyza heard him. Pina Coladas were spunky and they were driven. They told him that they heard what he said before, which was fair. They might not have entirely understood his point but he was entertained by their antics. And they beat him and Lyza.
Commendable.
The growing pains in his body were an annoyance, but Devin Brando was in the ring again, and he was alive.
April 13th, 2020 - San Juan, Puerto Rico (OFF CAMERA)
The last time he was in the ring, he carried fifteen extra pounds of gold with him. He had fashioned his face with striking white paint to tell the story of a monster. He was resolute in his ideals to be one, and he had lost himself there. He drove spikes into the head of his victims. He tried to end the careers of anyone who came up close to him. Devin Brando was a tumor a year ago, and he was malignant. Worst of all, the acts did not bring him any sort of happiness. Instead, it filled a hole in the pit of his soul with something fraudulent.
Though when the time came for companies to die, Devin did not rush for something else. Instead, he kept away from the business that he was aiming to taint. He went home, to the coldness and loneliness. The solitude helped him because it forced him to confront his demons. Devin did not challenge them, no, he merely allowed them to stay with him. He found it hypocritical to try to kill them when he was the one to invite them in.
As he looked himself in the mirror, each time he got a chance to stare into his eyes, he did. A man could not walk through life without being to do so. Unfortunately, Devin found a bruise around his eye. It did not bother him as much as it tickled him. The injury was coupled with some wrinkles, and that fact almost made him laugh. It was probably a kick from Delilah. The point of the foot caught him flush, and he did not feel anything, due to the intensity of it. The thought removed him from any other self-reflection. And he was thankful.
It was disappointing to lose to the younger generation, but it was not the first time that it happened to the eleven-year veteran. In fact, it was promising, and it showed how the wrestling world would be shaped. In addition, he and Lyza padded their rough start with a win. They were still in the running, and it became a test of whoever could try to keep striving beyond 2nd place.
“What am I doing chasing some kids for first place?” Devin mumbled to himself.
When he drew the curtains, he was greeted by the now-familiar brightness of Puerto Rico. It still seared his eyes a bit. He would not get used to it; his eyes were accumulated to the darkness of Canada. Luckily, he had bought some shades prior to heading to the arena. He stretched his back, feeling a remnant of pain there. The mix of pain from the matches and nagging injuries came to haunt him early in the morning. He decided to go ahead and get his workout, perhaps it would alleviate some of the aching.
When he was done, the world began to wake up. Once it got its own stretches in, Devin had already packed his bags and was waiting for the time to leave. He was going from one bright place to another. Yet, in Puerto Rico, he had some history. Several rivals-turned-friends invited him out. It was not entirely unfamiliar to him. Jamaica was not a place he had ever dreamt of going to. The climate was not his interest nor was it a locale that he found he would thrive in. His phone buzzed with a notification. When he picked it up, he noted the time.
8:26 AM.
There was a text from Lyza. Seeing her name made him squint.
“Why did I let you talk me into this?”
He snickered at the message and attempted to stuff his phone back into his pocket. When he did, it felt it vibrate--a phone call. He took it back out, expecting to see Lyza’s name. That wasn’t the case. Instead, the name that he saw was one that sent shivers down his spine. Devin narrowed his eyes and answered it, regardless of how he felt internally.
“Hello, Sirena,” he greeted his former boss.
“Приветик,” Sirena van Dyne greeted Devin with a tone that he was unfamiliar with. It was too sweet, but he knew that it was her making fun of the situation already. She let out a light giggle. “It has been far too long,” she continued.
“Yes, it has been. For good reason,” Devin explained, opting to sit down in the nearest chair.
“I’m hurt, Devin,” Sirena’s voice returned back to what he was familiar with, the dry, stoic expression.
“No, you’re not,” it was an immediate retort, something he hardly thought about.
“Well, if I wasn’t before, I definitely am now. I see that playing with that young lady has gotten you a tad more brazen,” a veiled expression of hostility, “and I don’t know if I like it or not.”
“Right,” Devin said. “What do you need, Sirena? You’re not one to call someone to check in on them. You don’t even do that with your daughter.”
Sirena remained quiet but broke said silence with a sharp breath. “Devin, you don’t have to be so miserable about this. I’m not calling you to come back. I’m calling you because I’m honestly concerned.”
“Concerned? I’m fine.”
“No, for your well-being. There have been reports of some of your former co-workers being targeted by someone. We figured it out recently, and I need you to stay cautious. It’d be a shame if you were--” Sirena paused. Devin was about to reply, but soon enough, Sirena piped up. “I don’t want to find you dead somewhere for something that I did.”
“For something you did?” Devin addressed the most pressing statement. “Sirena, what did you do?”
Sirena van Dyne was a businesswoman in every sense of the word. Her pharmaceutical company, Blacklight, was always doing well. Though it came with its questionable decisions and its secrets that many people never heard of. Sirena never slipped up, Devin knew this much. Even if she did, no one would ever know because she was an expert at being able to bounce back at a moment’s notice. Small failures were merely audibles for her, and she made good on all of them in Devin’s experience of working for her.
Though his work wasn’t always so pleasant.
“Someone found out the truth.”
Those words struck Devin with a gravity he wasn’t expecting.
“What are you talking about, Sirena?”
Sirena did not answer, perhaps because she didn’t want to. “Be careful, Devin. And...keep your new friend safe. She seems like a good person.”
The CEO hung up the phone, leaving Devin with only a palpable silence to comfort him.
It was pointless to try to process it anymore. Yet, it left him with some pause about staying within the hotel. If Sirena called him and knew what Devin was up to, he wasn’t safe. It was an annoyance if anything. He didn’t get to try the cuisine that the driver told him to when he got into town. Frustrations aside, Devin Brando scooped up his bags and made his way for the airport.
He could only hope that there wasn’t anyone after him.
◼◼◼
Frustration was the first emotion Lyza felt after night one of the World’s Best: Tag Team Tournament. Being used to working for herself under her own terms, never consulting with anyone had caught up to her in Puerto Rico. As opposed to a prior tag team endeavor with a “green” partner, it would seem like her alliance with Devin would be fool-proof, but even then, there was always that .01% chance and it came in an unusual way.
She never doubted the potential from rookie competitors in the past, yet she was able to come out on top in the end. What was different about The Pina Coladas? Their natural talent along with the teachings of decorated wrestlers permeated through them. If she were to recommend wrestlers to follow when the current talent retires, it’d be them.
Despite the outcome, she had no intention of giving up on the team she formed with Devin as there was room for improvement. She knew there was something from the moment she had a sparring session with him. Being a successful team also entails to each member having the capacity to challenge the other. Redemption was achieved on night two after defeating Honourable Win, a team consisting of seasoned wrestlers. The added pressure of needing to be on the scoreboard may have lit a spark within her to keep pushing forward. Raise a shoulder, kick out, do whatever was needed to stay alive and that she did along with her partner.
April 16, 2020, NYC (Off Camera)
Days after round two took place, Lyza returned to her apartment in New York City. It seemed impractical to fly back to the mainland when she could wing it in the Caribbean until necessary. Other than wanting to do laundry and pack different clothing, she wanted to handle a personal affair.
There’s a side that Miss Reyes has masterfully maintained under wraps from the general public and even her loved ones. She hides in plain sight, often coming off as non-threatening and inviting, but behind her charm and bright smile, there was an added layer of mystery. Some sleuths have attempted to unveil what was beneath, but to no avail - thanks to her ability to stay a few steps ahead.
With disease supposedly being at every turn and corner, she seems relaxed walking on Water Street in downtown, Manhattan. Rather than an over-the-top costume as an alternative to protective gear, she dons a tan trench coat and knee-high boots. Rather than wearing a face mask, her face remains covered with a scarf. She stood out from the scattered joggers and bike riders that were out for their evening exercise in athletic gear.
She finds her destination on a cobblestone road, which at one point was filled with benches and chairs for patrons to sip and eat next to their restaurant or bar of choice. The Dead Mouse Grocery and Frog, a bar she has frequented in the past looks abandoned from the outside. A sign on the front says, “Delivery & Takeout Only. This includes frozen margaritas and any beer that’s not Corona.”
She scoffs at the sign before opening the door with a gloved hand. There’s a young woman behind the bar packing to-go goods in a paper bag and a male in a bike helmet waiting to take the order for delivery. Lyza steps to the side, leaving the path clear for the gentleman to exit. She then walks up to the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to acknowledge her after making a quick run to the kitchen with a new online order that came in.
“Hey, there. What can I get for ya?” The bartender asks in a cheery tone.
Lyza unwraps the scarf and leans in slightly, citing the following,
“Leave me a place underground, a labyrinth,
where I can go, when I wish to turn,
without eyes, without touch,
in the void, to the dumb stone,
or the finger of shadow.”
“Pablo Neruda, he’ll accept that. Meet me at the end,” the young woman instructs.
Lyza turns to her left to walk over to the end of the bar. The bartender extends her hands to take Lyza’s coat, showing off a navy blue cocktail dress underneath. She then leads the way to the kitchen, walking past the prep area and the cook who remains focused on his job as he dips a basket of breaded calamari in a deep fryer.
They reach the end of the kitchen and enter the walk-in refrigerator. Lyza shivers a bit while looking around the room, seeing the usual array of vegetables and boxes of assorted meats and seafood. The bartender stops at the end of the storage area and reaches down to pull a handle from the floor. She raises the disguised door from beneath, and points over to Lyza to make her way.
There was no point in turning back. She carefully makes her way over to the hole, stepping inside to reach a set of stairs going downward. A dim light guides her as she makes it to the bottom. She looks behind her, seeing the bartender lower the door from the food storage area.
Alone, Lyza walks past the empty cellar until she reaches another door that takes her through a narrow hallway. The music blaring was indicative of how close she was to reaching point b in this evening venture. She turns to her right and pushes the double doors ahead of her to find a decorated room filled with dozens of individuals dressed to the nines, dancing, and mingling against New York state orders. Servers circulated the room with trays of appetizers and champagne. Upon taking a closer look, some of the guests’ faces were recognizable from TV and social media. Celebrity chefs, plastic surgeons, musicians, actors, and so forth are gathering as if a global pandemic was nonexistent.
“I bet some of these pendejos posted pictures of themselves in pajamas with sad expressions adding a ‘stay home’ hashtag,” she says to herself in a sarcastic tone.
“Watch out!” yells a man, who gently moves Lyza out of the way to catch a roll of toilet paper that was thrown at him like a football.
“Hello, fellow non-essential,” Lyza quips, noticing the man’s athletic ability and physique. She keeps it moving, maintaining her destination in mind. It fascinated her that as soon as she would step out of this establishment, the vibe would be the complete opposite. Being surrounded by individuals with uncovered faces, laughing, and exchanging words within inches of one another felt...wrong.
She spots a round table with four middle-aged men smoking cigars and walks towards them with purpose. She pulls an empty chair towards her and takes a seat to join them. The man across from her snaps his fingers for the remaining individuals to clear the area. Once they leave, the man proceeds with greeting her.
“Lyza. It takes the world going to hell for you to pay you number one fan a visit?”
“That’s just the cherry on top of everything else. I’m here to tell you that I’m done with this game of ping pong, Glen. I need to get in touch with your superior,” she says, calmly.
“I’ll see what can be arranged,” he says, putting out the cigar over an ashtray. “You know, you must be special considering the amount of patience that is required in dealing with you through the years. How’s young Diana doing?”
Lyza’s heart nearly broke at the memory of the little girl she fostered. Diana was another kept secret as she didn’t want to exploit the circumstances. She just wanted to help out a family in need while they sorted their immigration status.
“Better, now that she’s reunited with her family,” Lyza replies. She scans the room quickly in search of vigilant eyes, including the surveillance system. “I meant what I said. The surprise visits, the cryptic shit - all of that has to go. I’m not the weapon or whatever it is that the higher-ups want to call it.”
“That’s where it gets complicated. You are close to becoming what my superior envisioned, and you were one of the few to survive the process to date. I’d say you were born to do this.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t even believe that my mother’s doctor was transparent” she says, shaking her head “no” at one of the servers offering her a drink. Feeling defeated, she lets out a sigh. “Let me get through the remainder of spring. I need to at least feel something other than what’s happening here.”
There was no reason for her to stick around unless the person she actually wanted to speak with would agree to meet. She gets up from her seat and walks away from Glen and the COVID Party. She gets to the narrow hallway en route to the main level of the venue. On the opposite side, there’s a rotund man in a pinstripe suit and a fedora who approaches her.
“Leaving already? C’mon, it’s not like you have anywhere else to be. I could really make it worthwhile for you,” he says, running a finger over her gloved hand.
“Nah,” she says, pulling away. She steps to the side to distance herself further as she continues walking. The man turns around, catches up to her again, and places his hand on the small of her back. Lyza hits him with her left elbow and quickly turns around to knee him in the midsection. As he hits the ground, the hallway goes pitch black. She kicks him while he’s down several times until she can no longer feel him attempting to fight back.
“AY! ‘Cha doin’?” a voice echoes from the party room entrance. The lights come back on in the hallway. Glen and his associates rush over to see the man in the pinstripes laid out on the cold concrete floor seemingly stunned by what just happened to him.
“One of our VIP’s. This is a problem,” Glen says as his associates try to help the fallen man.
Days later (On Camera)
The scene opens up in the same location Devin Brando recorded his previous promo, yet this time he is not alone. Lyza Reyes is beside him wearing a long majestic red and gold robe. She is balancing a scepter over the palm of her hand while Devin looks on from the throne. She catches the red light of the camera from the corner of her eye and sets the accessory to the side before speaking.
“Greetings and salutations to the viewers and listeners. I hope you’re all safe and sound! My associate and I are delighted to be here before heading to Jamaica and Cuba for the World’s Best: Tag Team Tournament.”
She nods reassuringly while Devin maintains a neutral expression.
“With some downtime between rounds, of course, there was an opportunity to properly reflect and let things marinate in our heads after what happened on nights one and two of the tournament. Between night one and two, there was that brief period of hurt after coming up short against The Pina Coladas. Much like an energetic toddler bumping into something, I took the fall and had no choice but to get up without hesitation as night two was still in the cards. Losing back to back would be devastating and would be a disservice to my partner, the fans, and anyone with expectations of us putting forth an excellent fight.
For the amount of content received and hours spent reviewing talent footage, SCW narrowed it down to six tag teams. Mind you, there were likely to be entrants with years of experience working as a unit, but they chose Devin and yours truly. So for me to throw it away like that? I wasn’t going to let it happen. And if you were to believe that our victory against Honourable Win was nothing else but a fluke? Then I don’t know what to tell ya.”
There was a brief silence as Lyza looked away from the camera to gather her thoughts.
“Nights one and two clearly set the tone of what to prepare for. There’s no denying the flaws and miscalculations that were displayed. Synchronization and receptivity were slightly delayed which I take responsibility for. I pride myself on being an easy person to work with and I’m all for collaborating when the reward is high. Obviously I had a moment of weakness where I wanted to prove that I was more than capable when instead I overcompensated. Rest assured that this isn’t habitual or something I’m known for. If anything, I was told in the past that I needed to come out of my shell more. Imagine me holding back? Balance. It always comes back to finding a balance between complacency and chaos.
And that’s where I get to test things out with The Dresser Boys. Marcus V. Lopez and Violator’s reunion from what I was told was something you’d see in a James Franco and Seth Rogan project. Marcus being a casual-cool cat with trying to get the band back together, you couldn’t help but cheer for the guy! And in a moment where the camera focused on Violator, capturing his expression as the viewers clenched to their seats wondering if he would say yes or no. I’ve seen prom proposal videos and that was nothing compared to the interaction between The Dresser Boys at the Devil’s Lettuce Shop in New Joizy!”
Her sarcastic nature shines as she makes devil horns with her hands. Devin shakes his head, not saying anything. Yet, there’s a sliver of a grin on his face that he’s trying to hide.
“It’s going to take more than war paint and channeling a furry friend to get one over us. Granted, I did notice the creativity of Marcus in using the ropes as a weapon for his opponent Jamarcus. This allowed Violator to capitalize on his submission hold on Faustina, which will not happen in round three. So if you’re still feeling crafty, make sure to have plans B, C, and D on deck.”
She glances over at Devin, nudging him gently to take his turn. Devin doesn’t talk at first until Lyza’s nudging becomes a tad harder. Soon enough, he lets out a low groan. The Last King isn’t dressed in any ceremonial, no, he let Lyza handle that front. He stares at the throne with a questionable expression before letting his focus settle on the camera and the promotional material at hand.
“Sadly, Violator decided to get into my face.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Unlike Pina Coladas, I don’t have the respect for people who lose themselves to the hype. Maybe there was something in the air. Maybe the return to the ring got the man a little too jumpy, but he decided to mouth off to me. And well, I take umbrage with that. If I recall his exact words--”
Devin clears his throat unceremoniously. Earlier, he had been quiet and non-attentive. Yet, his cold glare settles on the camera, invoking the feeling of clear hostility.
“My ass was next?”
Narrowing his eyes, Devin allows the quote to linger in the air.
“Momentum is a powerful thing, I know from experience. In this game of chasing the first place position, it’s the momentum that will begin to tell the story of the victors. For me, though, it always helps to have some agitation fueling your punches. I don’t particularly care for people that don’t know when to keep walking.”
For a moment, the quiet visage Devin had faded into something more aggressive. Though, Devin’s attention trickles over to his tag team partner. Lyza stands there, twirling around her specter. The act makes Devin drop his vicious stance, and he lets it go with a sigh.
“So then, what are you going to do to ensure that my partner and I lose to you two? See, I’m a dosage of reality. Lyza stated that your entire purpose here is the comeback tour, the buddy stoner movie, and possibly a feel-good story. But when you step to us, the script is going to change a bit. I’m not going to say there won’t be a happy ending. I find that to be crass. You two have plenty of the tournament left to succeed.”
He offers the camera a smirk.
“This match, though? It’s the bump in the road that every protagonist has to go on to change themselves. Maybe this coming loss will tell you all that what you bring to the table isn’t enough. Maybe it tells you both to get your act entirely together. It may just tell you that you made a mistake in trying to antagonize people. I’m not sure what conclusion you’re going to find, but it will be just like how it was with Honourable Win.”
“However, as always, there’s someone else. We have Seduction. They’re another team with unfinished business,” Devin says, arching an eyebrow. Perhaps the amount of teams with that inspiration gets to him. “The first time that I’ve seen them, they presented their resume to me. Although it was impressive, I couldn’t do anything but ignore it. Because this is a tournament where anyone can win. Pina Coladas are a testament to that statement. So, in this realm, what do resumes provide for us?”
“Nothing but wasted time.”
The corner of Devin’s mouth tugs downward.
“And you’ve spent additional time speaking on your sex lives, minor political stances, and any other things that derailed what you were speaking on.”
“Now beyond some statistics that don’t really matter, what do you offer?”
Devin looks as if he was about to say something egregious. However, with a soft chuckle, he changes paths.
“Unity.”
He says with finality.
“That’s the advantage you have. Lyza and I aren’t as close as you two,” Devin briefly looks over to his tag partner and back, “and that’s beautiful in a way. Though, how fleeting can that unity be in the face of hungry competitors like Lyza and myself? If we go back to the idea of momentum, yours got shot when you fell to Pina Coladas. So, you’re chasing what we already have--you want what we have. And like the Dresser Boys, we have no time to waste giving you two that chance.”
With that being said, Lyza looks at the camera matter-of-factly.
“He’s got a point there, ladies. What good is a two-page resume when you’re getting passed on for upstarts fresh out of their graduation ceremony? Having unfinished business can be a bit of a pain because all you want to do is move on. Being married, adopting a child, surely there’s a picket fence somewhere. ‘Unfinished business’ is such a drag. Wouldn’t Dr. Grace Morningwood be of better use at the ‘front lines’ or somewhere around that? But hey, do you. Nobody’s stopping you from aspiring to be the top team. And with being as close-knit as you two are, it’s nice to have that shoulder to cry on and openly express concerns to one another. Take that as some sort of consolation if you must.”
She shrugs lightly.
“And we offer our condolences,” Devin says leaning forward. Lyza does her classic wink and finger gun gesture as the scene fades to black.