(rec)Our scene opens up outside the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport. A collection of people can be seen exiting the building, all in search of cabs, limos, and family members.
Finally, the camera focuses on a man leaning against the wall just outside the automatic sliding doors. It’s Ricky Valero. Dressed in a long-sleeved, green and black flannel shirt with jeans and a fresh pair of Oregon Air Jordan 5s, he puffs away on a cigarette pressed firmly between his lips and his fingertips. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, seem to peer off into the Birmingham sunlight.
He smiles, almost like he can sense the camera focus on him, and begins to speak without order.
RICKY: “This match was a long time coming. Ricky Valero. Ryan Kidd. One on one with nothing but pride and respect on the line. We’ve wrestled in a lot of the same companies, but the doors on those places always seemed to slam shut before we ever got the chance to go head to head. Believe me when I say this, Kidd, I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
He smirks.
RICKY: “You and I...we’re pretty similar inside the ring. We’ll put our all on the line for the sake of simply putting on a show. Leaving the people in awe. Their jaws on the floor. We thrive in high-pressure situations with the spotlight shining bright on our faces and another chance to make our name unforgettable in our grasps. Unfortunately for you, that latest endeavor entails wrestling the most difficult opponent you’ll ever meet inside the squared-circle.”
He lets out a bone-chillingly evil chuckle.
RICKY: “Kidd, you call yourself the “Evel Knievel” of professional wrestling. And in doing so, you’ve essentially put out a death wish. Say hello to your grim reaper. I am an icon who relishes the opportunity to put an end to foolish daredevils such as yourself, hoping to cash in and make yourself relevant merely by stepping into the ring with me. But when I’m through with you, it’s not that people will remember you fondly when they hear your name, but rather, people will shudder at the memory of the damage I did to you en route to an unforgettable victory inside the Bartow Arena here in Birmingham at PWP 14. They will weep at the shambles in which I left you as I stood over your useless carcass with my arm held high. They won’t remember the spectacular stunts you pulled in the ring as you prove to be some attention-seeking never-was, but rather, unlike your apparent role model, you died doing one too many stunts when you should’ve just laid down your bike.”
Ricky takes a long pull of his cigarette now, peering off into the distance.
RICKY: “Forgive me if this comes off rude or arrogant. I’m confident in my abilities and know that in order to make an impact here in PWP and start turning some heads, I must force people to take notice. I put myself out there at PWP 12 with a big win in my debut triple threat match. But my opponents, they were nobodies. To some, you are somebody. You’ve garnered success most places you’ve gone and people tune into watch you do your thing. People are going to tune into PWP 14 to watch me shut that shit down.
“Because as I said, this match...it’s about pride and respect. It’s about earning opportunities and leaving people in awe. What better way to do that then to lay waste of the person dumb enough to call me out and put his own life on the line by doing so? I’m not any of your homies from 2CW or PWX. I’m not John Pariah, Jason Richards, Jordan Caliban, or that bitch ass Adam Stryker. I’m going to knock you the hell out and have no bones about it.”
He smirks again, taking a moment to check out the gorgeous blonde jumping into a cab in front of him.
RICKY: “This match is NOT about you and me. It’s NOT about two stars bringing the house down, stealing the show. Hell no! This match is about Ricky Valero and his climb to the top of the PWP mountain. You’ve firmly entrenched yourself in my path and now, you suffer the consequences. Congratulations, son, you’ve just become another stepping stone.”
He pauses for a moment now, waving down a cab that has just pulled into the lot.
RICKY: “By all means, Kidd, try to prove me wrong. Putting you out of your misery will only be that much more fun should you try to fight it. Just remember that you asked for this match. You requested the death penalty, and I will have no issue carrying out the assignment. It’s over, Kidd. Any level of relevance you might still be clinging to. Any sense of purpose you have here. Your career, I won’t guarantee it’ll end when I’m finished with you, but you can bet a monkey’s vagina that shit will be on life support with no room for improvement. You’re entering my world now. Prepare for a fight.”
He smirks once more.
IT’S GAME TIME BABY!
He cocks his head down a little bit and peers out over his sunglasses, winking for the camera.
RICKY: “Are you ready?”
He chuckles as he takes one last drag from his cigarette and tosses it aside. He winks at the camera before walking off, dragging his suitcase behind him as he hops into a cab. We fade to black.
