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Post by Admin on Jan 20, 2020 16:28:03 GMT -6
 Number One Contendership Match
For The Ultimate Title
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal vs ReaperRoleplay Limit: ONERoleplay Deadline: Sunday, February 2, 2020 @ 1AM Central |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 1, 2020 23:53:37 GMT -6
“I think it’s about time to drop the facade…”
The voice reaches out before the visual does; a massive figure sits in an old wooden chair upholstered with black leather that, truly, has seen better days. Torn, likely from the claws of house pets as well as the ravages of time. Scratched from constant use and tarnished by innocuous efforts to use it. As a matter of fact, the man sitting within said chair appears to have seen better days. The world, and MHW, is too used to seeing Reaper as an overwhelming force: never stopped, never slowed, never beaten. He lives up to his moniker as the New Nightmare, a man who has yet to taste defeat other than via the slimmest of margins.
Yet in one moment, seeing his huge frame bent over, gloved hands hanging between his knees while his masked-and-hooded head is lowered… the monster looks old, tired… weathered, even. The leather of his long coat does not have the same shine, the mask does not bear the same luster. One would not go so far as to call him broken but clearly the monster is not feeling all that monstrous. If one did not know, they might assume that the tired, flat voice came from the masked man. But as ever, Aloysius Marcus Vance IV, the manager and lawyer for the New Nightmare, comes in to disabuse that notion.
“For months, in the midst of tearing apart everyone that MHW has thrown at us, the Reaper and I have been subtly searching for answer while undermining the efforts of some to obfuscate the truths we seek. None have been spared, neither champions nor contenders, white hats or black. Nor should they be. This is a world, after all, where none are truly innocent. And where it comes to wrestling? Well…
...shall we say the crimes are deserving of much worse punishments than are typically received. Put simply, you people are getting off light. If Reaper were to treat you as he typically treats liars, cowards and wastes of flesh beyond a wrestling ring, the local funeral homes would be packed to the rafters and every mortician in town would dress like yours truly.”
Only a faint smirk from the dapper AMV, now standing in the single beam of light that is allowed in this… chamber? The walls are bare save for chipped paint and places where racks and hooks once hung proud, the floor dusty old cement; though somehow it is familiar. Perhaps the grease stains on some parts of the flooring or remnants of old machinery are a clue? Hard to say.
Aloysius Marcus Vance IV is not concerned with such trivialities.
“But that isn’t the case, because this is a country of safe spaces, political correctness and participation trophies. Perish forbid people get what they deserve, that the punishment fits the crime. At least half the MHW roster would be missing a hand due to their thievery and several more would be hung as witches. No, not burned at the stake. Seriously, read some history.”
As though already expecting a retort from some smark, Aloysius cuts off the stupid thought before it has a chance to grow.
“Most of the rest? They’d be in the chair, the chamber or, if I had my way, a fucking firing squad. Are there exception? Aren’t there always? As a matter of fact? Bullet, you’re one of them. One of the precious few. Not pure, but someone who has answered for their sins and who fights to be something better, something proper. That is why this battle at Myrrhder She Wrote is…”
At this point, Reaper lifts his head slightly. As though sensing the motion, AMV turns to look at his charge. They exchange glances before Reaper tiredly shakes his head and lowers it once more. AMV rubs the back of his neck, nervously perhaps, and turns to the camera once more.
“...shall we say that the Nightmare’s heart isn’t in it?”
A shrug is given; AMV is truly not sure what to make of this himself. From an expression of uncertainty, however, comes a tight, imposing glare of anger.
“The title does not matter to my charge, Alex. Revenge does. Along with precious few others, you know why this is. You have glommed on to the reason why Reaper is here, though even you cannot fathom the endgame. The saying goes that what you know the best, you observe the least. People think they know Reaper. They think they understand his mission despite the air of mystery surrounding it. They know exactly two things:”
Vance holds up hid hand, two fingers extended.
“Jack. And shit.”
Clasping his hands behind himself again, the fourth-generation lawyer starts to pace.
“If Reaper has his way, and truly who could stop him or change his mind when even I cannot, he would turn and walk away from this match, Alex, and be satisfied that you are receiving the opportunity to deal with whichever overhyped, slack-jawed idiot walks out of the main event with the gold. But I think we all know which one will, don’t you? So that, to us, is a moot point. You, who actually have a future, who have something to fight for, should have the opportunity. Reaper has… other concerns.”
Was that a cough from behind the mask? It was a rough one. The big man’s shoulders shake and, for a moment, a trace of worry runs across Vance’s handsome face.
“Should we-”
Firmly shaking his head, Reaper angrily and impatiently gestures for AMV to get on it… which the lawyer does reluctantly.
“Some will look at this as an act of cowardice. Some will wonder what the plot is. Others still… well, why worry about the rest? A hundred people with a hundred different opinions would put their own spin on the situation whether they knew the truth or not. Let us simply say that Reaper sees the writing on the wall where most people have not even the faintest inkling. He is a pragmatic monster, and when the ends comes he will face it with a large amount of peace. Unfortunately, that peace will come via the suffering of others. Well-deserved suffering, but suffering nonetheless.
You need not be caught up in that, however, Alex. Again: you have a future. Fight for that. Fight for your sisters and extended family. Fight for gold and glory. Don’t get yourself drawn into something that could compromise that. This is not a threat from Reaper to you with myself as a proxy; that would do no good anyway. As stated before, you have more knowledge than most of what is going on. I know you understand me. And I know you want this fight. You and your fellow Maidens have warrior hearts and it would be insulting to you to suggest that you run. That is not what I am saying. That is not what Reaper wants. Show up… but do not come expecting Reaper’s heart to be in it.”
It seems funny even to Vance himself to suggest that the New Nightmare has any heart to speak of, though his smirk of amusement is flimsy. Reaper pushes up and out of the chair, standing at full height. He sets a heavy hand on AMV’s shoulder, almost upsetting the lawyer’s posture, causing Vance to turn and look up at him.
“...is it time already?”
The big man’s head lifts until he’s staring right at the camera, the light catching the lenses and metal of the mask, giving them a sharp gleam. Reaper stares, silently, coldly, at the camera… and shakes his head.
“You know we could just-”
Another shake of the monster’s head. With a last glare, he turns and walks out of sight as another barrage of hacking coughing emits from behind the mask. AMV looks after him, but instead of concerned, he looks determined.
“I know what you’re thinking. All of you. From the Coven to the Shieldmaidens, to Bullet to Skrabz to Jansen and all the rest. You’re wondering what the plot is, whether or not your legs are being pulled. Rest assured, ladies and gentleman, that if I wanted to fool you, if Reaper wanted to you to be left curious and wondering, reaching out to touch the inferno just to see how close you could get? It wouldn’t take much. Each and every one of you have a weakness that we could exploit to the fullest if the opportunity were presented. Jansen, you’re drunk on the idea that you’re the new messiah around here, that you and your ragtag group of malcontents somehow have the system on lock, that your destiny is nigh. Allow me to educate you young lady: gang warfare and the flush of success are not enough. There is a reason that Skrabz has been on top for nearly the entirety of MHW’s existence: because no one has figured him out yet. You’re just walking into his world, drunk on early success, destined to become yet another notch on his mic stand.
And speaking on the champion himself? Skrabz is a little inebriated himself. The longer a championship reign, an era of dominance, continues? The more difficult it is to maintain. You’re a gambler at a slot machine, champ, and so far you’ve been running up bars and 7s so much that you’re running out of places to spend your coin. You’re starting to feel fat… you’re starting to see yourself as what you were instead of what you have become. The young neophyte with potential, talent and drive is no more. You have nothing left to achieve in MHW and you know it. Complacency, boredom, laziness… you are not immune. Having conquered music and wrestling, at least in this company, what is left for you? Only the fall. Even if you get by Myrrh at the pay-per-view… your time is short. Your reign is ending soon by forces beyond your ken. Is that force named Reaper? Maybe. It might be Bullet, too. It might be something or someone else entirely. But you can count on that gold going away sooner rather than later. Look at the bright side, though: you’ll have new material that will still see you several notches below Eminem. So there’s that.”
Taking the chair for himself, one leg crossed over the other, AMV steeples his fingers and reorients on the camera.
“And you, Bullet?”
He hesitates, looking beyond the camera briefly, then sighs and continues.
“Your weakness is that you know, but cannot speak of what you know. You are the modern-day Cassandra… and if any of you idiots watching don’t know who that is, look it up. I don’t have the time or patience to educate you drones. I have someone and something more important to address.”
Snapping briefly at those watching, AMV is back on Bullet.
“You know how this is destined to end, Bullet, speaking of beyond the ring rather than inside of it in this case. Where it comes to the match, you could very well be the person who beats Reaper and puts a true blemish on the record of his short-lived career. You have the skill, determination and ferocity to do it. But your heart, young lady, can and will get in the way. Because you know the same as any opponent up until knows that Reaper simply does not stop. Even if the match ends, even if his opponent’s hand is held up high in the end, this monster does not stop his forward motion. The Juggernaut himself couldn’t bowl Reaper over, if I might toss in a little pop culture here. And you are in a position to know that better than any save a precious few.
Think about what would happen if you were in his spot for a moment, Alex. Think about what you would do if you were fighting for what Reaper is fighting for; something beyond mere blood or pride. Something beyond righting a wrong or ensuring a proper future. You might comport yourself differently, perhaps take a different tack on the situation, but you would likewise turn into an unstoppable force all your own… the difference being that you would accomplish this with an army at your back, ready to fight and die for the cause if it came to that. Reaper does not have that army, Alex. He does not have a backup plan, either. It is vengeance or bust in the case of the New Nightmare. Gold is but a trinket. Victory is a luxury. Neither will bring Reaper what he wants, nor will hurting you.”
AMV lowers his hands, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair. Cupping his chin in that raised hand, he chuckles dryly.
“If they only knew.”
But rather than elaborate on that, AMV instead rises to his feet, straightening his jacket and tie, making sure he looks just right.
“I’m sure the world is wondering what happens now. I have essentially told them that the end is coming, if not just for Reaper but for everyone spoken of this evening. They’re wondering why, they’re wondering how. They want the rest of the story, the fine details… but not for satisfaction or to shed light on the mystery. No, they want to run to Twitter with cheeto-stained fingers, being the first to tweet about it for those precious likes. They will scurry to their Facebook dirt sheets with trite opinions and speculation, wanting to be known as the one who cracked the case before anyone else. And to what end? It won’t make them special. It won’t make them important, either. Reaper has never cared about their ilk and never will. They don’t matter.
People like you, Alex, matter. To a lesser extend, people like Jansen and Skrabz matter… if only to facilitate the advocation of the forthcoming climax. The latter two are mostly warm bodies and placeholders. You, Alex… you’re more. But you know this. Soon, so will the rest of the world. Myrrhder She Wrote is where the, and I hesitate to use the word, legacy of Jansen and the Coven ends. Your glory literally ends with the pay-per-view bearing your name; something I find quite poetic. You claim to be the glue, the messiah, Jansen? When you crumble, your little group of ingrates will shatter right along with you. It’s the same logic as a team’s star player going on the IR; when you base your entire mission and chances of success around one person and that person-”
As he speaks, he takes an ordinary pencil out of his pocket and snaps it in two.
“-breaks? Everything goes straight to hell. As for you, Skrabz? Yours might end just a little later, so lucky you, having another week or two to savor the glory if it comes to that. But you’re getting unplugged, skin-top. What’s the best way to diminish a man like you? You remove his voice. You unplug him. You take away his audience. Defeat is something you have tasted before, champ, but it has always been temporary. This time, it is forever. Either at Myrrhder She Wrote or at ThrowDown. One way… or the other. The show’s over, the mics are unplugged and you have nothing left but a smoke-scented room at the back of an old bus, a couple pictures to remind you of old times and perhaps some ink to run your fingertips over as you recall a time when your name and presence meant something. Maybe they’ll play your tune in a ‘Where Are They Now?’ article in some grocery store wrestling mag. Maybe you’ll hear one of your old hits on some radio station. And for a moment, you’ll remember when your name meant something.”
AMV smirks, tossing the rest of the broken pencil aside.
“And Reaper?”
That brief look of concern… then…
“He is the catalyst. He brings this down, one way or the other. No more gold and no more glory for the lot of you. You will see just what this monster is capable of and, as we have known since the start, none of you will be prepared when the moment comes. The only difference comes from whether Bullet triumphs over him and whether Skrabz or Jansen exit the show with the gold.
And all that changes is the amount of blood on his hands when the end happens. Welcome… to the FINAL nightmare.”
Turning and walking out of sight, AMV lets the scene fade.
However, a moment later, the screen twists and turns, static and scrambled images playing out for a few moments before the chair is shown anew… with Reaper’s mask sitting upon it.
”The end…”
Darkness.
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Post by Bullet on Feb 2, 2020 0:33:43 GMT -6
Off-Camera
Friday, January 31, 2020
Church Room
Shieldmaidens Clubhouse
New Orleans, Louisiana
8:11 AM CST
War councils seemed to be a more common occurrence lately for the Shiedlmaidens. Even if this was technically considering being “at war” when it’s not another club or gang, for the officers involved, it certainly felt like they were at war. With a small cadre of ten officers in multiple law enforcement agencies, different squads involved, and deaths having happened, war seemed to be upon them whether it was officially declared or not.
President Alex “Bullet” Carbajal sits at the head of the table in the church room, her fellow officers, Vice President Angelqiue “Angel” LeRoux and Treasurer Jocelyn “Tibs” Thibault to the right and Sergeant-At-Arms Essentia “Sangre” Carbajal and Secretary Leonie “Queenie” Laveau to the left.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Hospital?
Sangre exhales as if delivering what could be both bad and good news at the same time much as she does in her day job as a nurse.
Essentia "Sangre" Carbajal: Vargas was reassigned. Detective LeBeauf is still in charge but now Deocán St. John is working in his place and Rikki Patel is along with him as his partner.
Tibs can’t help but smile as she hears this news.
Jocelyn "Tibs" Thibaullt: They’re both friendlies! That’s good for us, right?
Queenie nods slowly yet hopefully.
Leonie "Queenie" Laveau: You would think, especially since… Detective… LeBeauf is such a dirty fuck!
The collected group all smirk at the continued emphasis on getting LeBeauf’s rank correct as it become a running joke amongst many organizations including both the Shieldmaidens and Chrome Dragons’ MCs, the Devils Queens MC, the Congo Square Tribe MC, the Medillín Cartel, the Russians, the Italians and even the newly arrived in the area San Nicolás Cartel. All of them laugh at how angry Detective Antoine LeBeauf becomes if somebody forgets to address him with his rank in the proper place.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We have the run today for the vice squad of Los Tombos, do we have any news on Marchand?
Angel shakes her head.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: Same as before. Bruiser is champing at the bit to take him down.
Sangre shakes her head.
Essentia "Sangre" Carbajal: Demasiado…
Angel and Bullet both nod their agreement while Tibs and Queenie ponder for a second before nodding as well.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Bruiser will get her chance in due time. I know she does not wish to wait, but tonight she will take a step in that direction and then we go to London and that will occupy her for the weekend. We can return to planning things on Marchand and the others next week after we come back from London. What kind of list have we built up on friendly cops?
Queenie nods slightly.
Leonie "Queenie" Laveau: Deocán St. John, William Gray, Rikki Patel, Jack Addison and Derrick Khouri. On the other side we have Marchand, LeBeauf, Treadwell, Dufour, Williamson, Westphal, Maddox, Vargas, Sarkozi and the other St. John brother. Are Treadwell and Dufour still of-limits?
Bullet nods.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: They are reserved for later. Maddox, Vargas and Sarkozi will be taken care of tonight if things go as planned. Have we found any outside helpers besides Lester Maddox?
Angel shrugs.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: I have heard rumors of a woman that St John favors.
Tibs nods as well.
Jocelyn "Tibs" Thibaullt: I’ve heard a rumor that I need to check on regarding Marchand.
Sangre and Queenie both turn to look at Tibs, Angel and Bullet doing likewise.
Essentia "Sangre" Carbajal: Marchand?
Queenie shakes her head.
Leonie "Queenie" Laveau: I didn’t think that man favored anything…
Angel groans in disgust.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: I’m not sure I would want to know what he favors…
Tibs nods her agreement with Angel.
Jocelyn "Tibs" Thibaullt: Me either, but if there’s a chance we can find it?
Bullet sits back in her chair.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: We must find it if at all possible. He drove three members of our charter out of town and killed another. He’s not getting away no matter how long it takes us to find the way. He will pay for what he has done!
She pauses and then looks around the table.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Is everything in place?
The other four nod and Bullet smiles with satisfaction.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Then I will go get Bruiser and Psycho and when the calls comes in, we’ll go… make sure the vans are ready.
The other four nod and take their leave while Bullet stands and glances at her phone to make sure it’s charged. She heads off to the warehouse gym, knowing the call to act could come at any minute now.
Off-Camera
Friday, January 31, 2020
Church Room
Shieldmaidens Clubhouse
New Orleans, Louisiana
11:51 AM CST
With the strike executed and completed, Bullet walks back into the church room and takes her seat at the had of the table again. Calls would need to be made to the heads of the other major groups in town. Reports made about what was done.
But that would be taken care of later.
As Bullet starts to settle into her seat, her girlfriends, Angel as well as Jackie “Bandit” Layton, along with her younger sister, the prospect Gabriela “Taza” Carbajal, walk into the room followed closely by another prospect in Antonia “Firefly” Zendejas. The four take seats at the table as well, Angel and Bandit sitting on the right while Taza and Firefly sit on the left.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: You all did well today. We have taken our first steps…
She pauses and then nods to Taza and Firefly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: You, Snow and Burnout, I am proud of you. Your first taste and you did not flinch!
Angel and Bandit nod their agreement.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: You guys were great.
Firefly shrugs.
Antonia "Firefly" Zendejas: All we had to do was clean and burn a car…
She pauses and then nods mildly guilty acknowledgement.
Antonia "Firefly" Zendejas: Well, two cars.
Taza snickers along with Firefly.
Gabriela "Taza" Carbajal: Es la verdad…
Angel shakes her head.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: You did not just clean and burn two cars. You helped right a wrong in the familia. The people we hit tonight, they had done things, unspeakable things. They worked with and for people who have done worse things and you did your part to close that chapter.
Bullet nods in agreement with Angel.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: What you did was a public service, but also a familial service. We have two honored on the walls in these two clubhouses that were helped put there by these people. You honored those two tonight.
Angel stands and motions at the two prospects to follow her before leading them out into the main room of the clubhouse.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Where they going?
Bullet nods at the door.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Angel wanted to have a talk with all the prospects at once so she takes them outside before Snow has to go to her day job.
Bandit nods slowly.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: So, how long until we need the plane to be ready?
Bullet glances at her watch.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Hour, maybe two? Zombie was basically ready to go before we went on that run. Lexa is apparently a slave driver when it comes to such things.
Bandit laughs.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Rumor or known fact?
Bullet smiles and Bandit nods knowingly.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Bruiser, Psycho, Banshee and Hairicin?
Bullet nods.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Should be ready in the next twenty minutes. So long as we’re ready…
Bandit nods.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: So what’s the problem then, Ale?
Bullet frowns at her longest held friend.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: ¿No sé a qué te refieres?
Bandit crosses her arms as she sits.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Yes you do...
Bullet’s mouth opens but no sound comes out as she stares at Bandit in wide-eyed wonder. Bandit simply stares back, her eyes telling Bullet all she needs to know.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I’ve known you since we were twelve years old, Ale, I know when something is bothering you, now spit it out!
Bullet shakes her head and Bandit stands up, pounding her fist onto the table.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Dammit, Ale! What the fuck is going on here? I know killing those four rat bastards didn’t fuck with you like this so… what the fuck?
Bullet looks down and away from Bandit, closing her eyes in shame as she does so. Bandit moves up the table and puts her hand on Bullet’s on the table.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Ale… what?
Bullet shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. As Bandit squeezes Bullet’s hand, Angel comes walking back in. Seeing Bullet in tears and Bandit holding her hand, Angel can’t help but frown in confusion.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: What’s going on?
Looking between Bullet, Bandit and then back to Bullet,
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: ¿Que es esto?
Bandit shrugs.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I don’t know, she won’t tell me!
Angel frowns at Bullet.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: Ale? Are you still nervous about the match?
Bandit steps back, seemingly weirded out.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: The match?
She cocks her head in shock.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: This is about the match? The Reaper match?
Bandit steps back, releasing Bullet’s hand.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I don’t understand?
Angel shakes her head in equally stunned disbelief.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: Me either.
Bullet looks up, wiping away her own tears.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Estoy bien…
Her hands raise up and she shakes her head.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Estoy bien…
Bandit and Angel both just stare at her.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: You don’t look… or sound… bien.
Angel’s face says she’s thinking similar thoughts.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: Es las verdad…
Bandit nods pointedly.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Why would this match mess with you like this?
Bullet just shakes her head.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Estoy bien.
Bandit sighs heavily.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: Dammit, Ale…
Bullet looks up, shaking her head.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Jack… I’m… fine…
Bandit is about to retort when Angel steps in.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: It’s alright, Jack… leave her be…
Bandit sighs heavily again.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: This doesn’t make any sense, Ange. You know it doesn’t make any sense. Bruiser fought Reaper and all she did was talk shit to him. Zombie talked the same way and God knows Sam looks at everybody like that too, even Ohio. Psycho even…
Angel grabs Bandit’s hand.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: None of them are Ale…
Bandit nods knowingly.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I know, and she’s never been scared of a match before! Why does this one stand out? What about Reaper makes you nervous?
Bullet shakes her head.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: No tengo miedo.
Standing up, Bullet just waves her hand.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Let’s just get the plane ready and go to London. I’m fine. We go to London, we finish what we started here with the next two shows and then we finish what we started here. It’s all about family…
Bullet places one hand on Bandit’s shoulder and the other on Angel’s.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: ¡Se trata de la familia!
Bandit and Angel nod in unison.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: I’ll be here when you get back.
She smiles warmly for her girls.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: Knock ‘em dead in London!
Bullet and Bandit both smile back.
Jackie "Bandit" Layton: I love you, Ange!
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Te amo… los dos.
Angel’s smile broadens.
Angelique "Angel" LeRoux: I love you too.
On-Camera
Saturday, February 1, 2020
Wolf’s Lair Gym
London, England
5:21 PM local time
The camera opens upon Alex “Bullet” Carbajal standing all alone in this gym wearing a pair of blue jeans, running shoes, a black metallica t-shirt and her Shieldmaidens kutte.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I have to admit, this is a fight…
Looking away, almost ashamed, Bullet’s gaze slowly falls to the floor.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I never expected to have.
Her hands come together almost like she’s going to fall to her knees and pray.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Reaper is a man…
Trailing off, she shakes her head and backs up, leaning against the wall behind her. She takes a deep breath, nods to herself and then looks back into the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: This match is for a chance to get the last Mile High World Championship match in the history of the company. Now that might not mean anything to many people as they would say..
She pauses to shrug.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Who wishes to win a dead championship for a dead company but I am not one of those people!
She taps herself on her chest with both hands.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I came to Mile High as a rookie who had never had a real wrestling match in my life. The closest I had ever gotten were a few practice matches in a gym in Las Vegas with El Martillo and a short time managing for what was a girlfriend at the time. I was nothing, I was a former girlfriend of somebody who had never even heard of Mile High herself and would not step foot in this company until it started its second run and even then it was just a one off.
Stepping forward on her right foot, Bullet glares defiantly into the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I was a rookie who had accomplished nothing at all and I did not exactly set the world on fire in my first match here either. I was in a group match and while we won, it was not because of my own greatness that we won that match. My teammates carried me to a win because I had no idea what I was doing and I probably had no business stepping into a ring professionally at the time.
She nods slowly, a smile coming across her face.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: But I learned…
The smile fades back into an almost angry glare.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: And on my fifth match ever, I won the first ladder match in the history of this company to become the inaugural Phoenix Champion! I held and defended that championship until the company closed down and then I carried with pride until Tyke Index finally tripped me up. He was the first one to catch me and it took that far into this company’s second run for somebody to get me. I defeated the likes of Azurine Vebbins, Samantha “Titaness” Hamilton and Skrabz and there are still only two opf us who can say we’ve actually managed to straight up defeat Skrabz in Mile High!
She steps back, her arms spreading out and her hands waving to the encompassing world again.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: So do I see winning this match as getting a chance to win a dead championship for a dead company?
She shakes her head, a severe grimace on her face.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I see it as being given the chance to compete for the highest honor in the company that gave me the greatest opportunity I have ever received in my life! This company took an immigrant girl who had no real idea what she was doing, gave her a platform to learn, grow and change and become a champion. It gave me the chance to show the world what i could do, who i could be and it let me show the world and everyone living in it that if you really want to make something of yourself, you can do it!
She pauses to point to herself.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: I was not supposed to be anything. My older sister is a doctor in a small clinic that barely manages to make ends meet. My brother is in prison and we have no idea if he will ever see the light of freedom again. My father works at a casino in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi serving people who all constantly look down on him for having an accent that tells them he was definitely not “from around there.” My mother works in the same place cleaning up after those same people who all look down on her for being willing to clean up after them and I work as a mechanic at a garage owned by a man who wrestled here that you all constantly shit on his name because he had the balls to walk out in solidarity with his fired wife!
Biting her bottom lip, her eyes start to glisten and moisten.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: A man I love like a second father for how he gave me a chance when I was sixteen. He gave me a job and took me into his familia and allowed me to become a part of it. That man is my familia and I will forever be in his doubt! I love him no matter what he does or where he goes! He will always be my second Papi!
The anger creeps in further as her right hand balls into a fist.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: That is who I am and where I was starting from and this company said I could walk in that door and give it my best to rise above and be better than where I started from! It never cared that sometimes the way I pronounce things sounds funny, that sometimes I get words wrong or that my family never had money. It never cared that I had no experience and that all of my formal training was in a converted warehouse that two Irish fighters named Maguire were living out of in Las Vegas. Mile High said come here and you can try to be whoever and whatever you want to be. It gave me a platform and a stage to rip off the mask I am forced to wear everyday and piss on it!
She pounds the fist against her chest.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: This company is mi familia! Sometimes family fights but we always come back together in the end. When this company fired RJ, it asked if I was going with her, if the Maidens were leaving and I refused to abandon it then and I refuse to abandon it now!
Standing defiantly, Bullet points to the floor angrily.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Mile High may be closing its doors again, but it will always be mi familia and I will always fight for mi familia!
Stepping back to the wall she slaps it viciously.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: That is not a dead championship yet and if I get the chance to stand in the ring with whomever the champion is after this show, I will step inside with pride, knowing that I am getting the chance to prove myself to mi familia all over again! Getting the chance to prove that my being on all of those posters and banners, that my being the center of promotion for the company was neiterh a mistake nor a fluke! It was mi familia recognizing how much I love it and how much it loves me and I do not turn that aside just because somebody calls it dead. They do not know what it means or what we have all been through to get this far!
Walking away from the wall, Bullet steps to her side and nods pointedly.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: That is what this match, this fight is about and I do not take it lightly. You will not fuck with mi familia!
She points accusingly into the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Do you hear me?
She takes that same finger and points emphatically, violently to the floor.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: You will not fuck with mi familia!
Holding out her arm, Bullet forms her hand into the shape of a gun, pointing it to the camera.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: Para mi familia…
She nods.
Alex "Bullet" Carbajal: ¡Dios es una bala!
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