Post by ktotheb on Feb 5, 2017 3:02:59 GMT
It had been quick, it had been violent, and it had been everything he’d planned on it being. An easy victory, a dominant one that brooked no room for argument. He was better than the Twin-Nisher, and while he’d kept some semblance of humility in admitting that there was something more to the Finnish staple of Phoenix Wrestling, he’d known he was the superior competitor long before he’d ever reached the venue.
So why did he feel cheated somehow? Why was it that as he sat backstage, passively observing the goings-on of his new home promotion’s annual Iron King tournament, his legs bounced restlessly? His hands shook with unspent energy? His stomach - hollowed out with anticipation when he’d first entered the locker room and started gearing up for his inaugural match - still yearned, hungrily.
“Heh…”
The dry chuckle leaves his mouth and is immediately followed by a sigh. Turning away from the monitor, Leoncio de Soto resignedly starts stripping his wrestling gear off. The thought had occurred to him that he could have probably went out sometime later in the show and made a larger impression - one that was televised - but for how confident he was in his abilities, the self-professed pirate still had something of a pragmatic, cautious approach where it concerned his new employer.
Better to get a feel for the place first, not make too many waves. The time would come to make his face known, but for now? He could just be content that he’d done what he set out to do.
That still wouldn’t keep him from grudgingly wishing his match hadn’t been off-screen or that he hadn’t taken more time to settle into the match, though.
As he bites the tape away from his wrists the good mood that had held him until he’d finally walked back up the ramp after having his hand raised in victory returns with a sideways grin, the realization that it was solely the fault of his ego that had put him in a dour mood amused him.
It had taken him years to cultivate that self-centered aura of confidence, when he didn’t get the chance to really stretch it out and show WHY Rugido was a man that warranted that attitude it felt akin to robbing a cat of its recent kill.
“There’s always next time”
It’s stated with a simple air of finality, no shred of doubt entering his head that there could be any adversity to that goal. Leoncio de Soto would be willing to put someone else’s hard-earned money down on that ’next time’, and with that thought, he grabs his towel, shuts his locker, and walks to the showers, whistling the shanty ’Drunken Sailor’ off key and working through his mental rolodex to figure out which nightclub in San Diego was best suited for his reveries.
The camera opens to reveal Leoncio de Soto reclined on his bed at the Motif Seattle Hotel, he’s clad in a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, and a pair of silver thin-framed reading glasses are perched on the edge of his nose.
“Hello, Phoenix Wrestling fans! ¿Que es la que hay? I hope well, I do need all of you to come and watch me ply my trade at the coming show tomorrow so I can get paid, si?”
He laughs, bringing his hands up behind his head to rest on the mountain of pillows propping him up.
“I hear Seattle’s a beautiful city, though I’m thinking the people I’ve heard it from must have come through during the summer, because it’s a bit too frigid for my Latin blood, ay? Ah well, that’s not to say that I haven’t found time to enjoy myself building up to my second match within Phoenix Wrestling; saw a movie, went on a couple dates with some mujer bonita... and even stayed in last night, eating bala fria and getting fat, as one does”
He sighs and rubs his belly before sitting up, his expression turning serious as he stares into the camera.
“Wait… I think I can hear some of you out there who’ll be watching my chiseled, masculine features and wonder aloud: ’Second match in Phoenix wrestling, Rugido? ¡Ni di coña! This is only your first, I watch every show and I’ve never seen you before!’[/b]. Then, you fall all over yourself to type up that you’ve found an error in someone’s statement on your ergonomic keyboard, hoping in vain that you’re the first one to point out what is no doubt your keen and edgy observation online, so you can appear clever and whip-smart to the fifteen other chavos on your chosen message board… six of whom will actually care…”[/font]
He scratches his chin a moment before his serious expression twists into a rogue-ish grin again.
“Really though, I can’t be too hard on you, metaphorical internet fan. This IS my second match in the confines of a Phoenix Wrestling ring, it’s just the first one that will be televi- er… posted online for the world to see. I stated very firmly in my last promotional video that I thought it was a waste to be put into a dark match when I’m so obviously a made-for-television personality, but alas I don’t book the shows, I just wrestle on them!”
He swings his legs around the side of the bed before coming to a stand, stretching his arms above his head we hear him grunt as a few satisfying pops emanate from his shoulders.
“So then, what is Leoncio de Soto, the new Terror of Phoenix Wrestling’s high seas to do? Well that’s very simple, I cast sail in La Broma Negra and I wreak havoc the only way a true Buccaneer like my great ancestor Benito knew how! I draw blood, I pillage and plunder and I cast down those who think they’re untouchable, I sink their aspirations and their attempts to thwart my private, free enterprise and I leave them stranded on the shores of obscurity, surrounded by the other castaways and the ruins of their wrecks”
The young Latino man winks into the lens.
“I’m throwing up my Jolly Roger, and I’m going to show everyone that you cannot ignore the likes of me, you cannot drown out Rugido no matter how hard you try. I know it, and soon you the fans, and the company itself will know, that I’m far too much of a treasure to be held out of the spotlight”
Leoncio runs a hand through his hair, expression turning bashful, although it appears to be somewhere between feigned and genuine.
“The first step in doing so? Well that’s on Monday. See I’ve been booked in the opening round of Tag Gauntlet Qualifier, which puts me at - if you’ll forgive the expression - unknown water becarios. I’ve never done much in the way of genuine tag matches during my time in smaller companies, I’ve never wrestling Seth or Veronica - my announced opponents - and I’ve certainly never had the privilege of sharing the ring with a señora atractiva like Faith before”
He bites his lip as he mulls something over.
“So I’m somewhat apprehensive, my first step towards posting up the infamy that exists within my family name is a tough one, and the reason for all of that lies entirely on me. That’s not to detract anything from Iser or Valiant, as I’ve watched enough to know that they’re quality in that ring, and it’s certainly not Faith’s fault, as vexed as she appeared to be that my attempt at levity came off more as being one of those loca chavos hitting on anything with a set of breasts… I know I couldn’t request a better partner in this match given her wealth of experience in the company”
He points at his chest.
“The onus of how this match goes down rests entirely on me, on not letting Seth or Veronica cut me off on one side of the ring and pick me apart as the weak link. It’s on me to make sure that I’m ready to mesh with mi compañero instead of prove a hindrance, and it’s ESPECIALLY on me to make sure that my… well I’ll put this bluntly, I haveta make sure that I keep a reign on my overt charms so as not to cause Faith to piedra and lose interest in us working as a team”
De Soto nods into the lens
“Faith niña, there isn’t a pirate living or dead that could make their name and spread their notoriety by sailing alone. Trust me when I say that I am not seeking to upset you, and that together, with your well-rounded abilities and my submission skills, we should be able to sail far, and leave a wake of wrecks and fables about us in our wake. This monday is the maiden voyage, let’s make sure Seth Iser and Veronica Valiant take a long walk off a short plank... “
He cants his head to the side, a boyish grin gracing his face.
“¿Suena como un plan? I hope so, Faith, the only thing I wanna see by the time the final bell rings is Valiant and Iser swimming back to shore”
With that we fade to black.
So why did he feel cheated somehow? Why was it that as he sat backstage, passively observing the goings-on of his new home promotion’s annual Iron King tournament, his legs bounced restlessly? His hands shook with unspent energy? His stomach - hollowed out with anticipation when he’d first entered the locker room and started gearing up for his inaugural match - still yearned, hungrily.
“Heh…”
The dry chuckle leaves his mouth and is immediately followed by a sigh. Turning away from the monitor, Leoncio de Soto resignedly starts stripping his wrestling gear off. The thought had occurred to him that he could have probably went out sometime later in the show and made a larger impression - one that was televised - but for how confident he was in his abilities, the self-professed pirate still had something of a pragmatic, cautious approach where it concerned his new employer.
Better to get a feel for the place first, not make too many waves. The time would come to make his face known, but for now? He could just be content that he’d done what he set out to do.
That still wouldn’t keep him from grudgingly wishing his match hadn’t been off-screen or that he hadn’t taken more time to settle into the match, though.
As he bites the tape away from his wrists the good mood that had held him until he’d finally walked back up the ramp after having his hand raised in victory returns with a sideways grin, the realization that it was solely the fault of his ego that had put him in a dour mood amused him.
It had taken him years to cultivate that self-centered aura of confidence, when he didn’t get the chance to really stretch it out and show WHY Rugido was a man that warranted that attitude it felt akin to robbing a cat of its recent kill.
“There’s always next time”
It’s stated with a simple air of finality, no shred of doubt entering his head that there could be any adversity to that goal. Leoncio de Soto would be willing to put someone else’s hard-earned money down on that ’next time’, and with that thought, he grabs his towel, shuts his locker, and walks to the showers, whistling the shanty ’Drunken Sailor’ off key and working through his mental rolodex to figure out which nightclub in San Diego was best suited for his reveries.
***
The camera opens to reveal Leoncio de Soto reclined on his bed at the Motif Seattle Hotel, he’s clad in a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, and a pair of silver thin-framed reading glasses are perched on the edge of his nose.
“Hello, Phoenix Wrestling fans! ¿Que es la que hay? I hope well, I do need all of you to come and watch me ply my trade at the coming show tomorrow so I can get paid, si?”
He laughs, bringing his hands up behind his head to rest on the mountain of pillows propping him up.
“I hear Seattle’s a beautiful city, though I’m thinking the people I’ve heard it from must have come through during the summer, because it’s a bit too frigid for my Latin blood, ay? Ah well, that’s not to say that I haven’t found time to enjoy myself building up to my second match within Phoenix Wrestling; saw a movie, went on a couple dates with some mujer bonita... and even stayed in last night, eating bala fria and getting fat, as one does”
He sighs and rubs his belly before sitting up, his expression turning serious as he stares into the camera.
“Wait… I think I can hear some of you out there who’ll be watching my chiseled, masculine features and wonder aloud: ’Second match in Phoenix wrestling, Rugido? ¡Ni di coña! This is only your first, I watch every show and I’ve never seen you before!’[/b]. Then, you fall all over yourself to type up that you’ve found an error in someone’s statement on your ergonomic keyboard, hoping in vain that you’re the first one to point out what is no doubt your keen and edgy observation online, so you can appear clever and whip-smart to the fifteen other chavos on your chosen message board… six of whom will actually care…”[/font]
He scratches his chin a moment before his serious expression twists into a rogue-ish grin again.
“Really though, I can’t be too hard on you, metaphorical internet fan. This IS my second match in the confines of a Phoenix Wrestling ring, it’s just the first one that will be televi- er… posted online for the world to see. I stated very firmly in my last promotional video that I thought it was a waste to be put into a dark match when I’m so obviously a made-for-television personality, but alas I don’t book the shows, I just wrestle on them!”
He swings his legs around the side of the bed before coming to a stand, stretching his arms above his head we hear him grunt as a few satisfying pops emanate from his shoulders.
“So then, what is Leoncio de Soto, the new Terror of Phoenix Wrestling’s high seas to do? Well that’s very simple, I cast sail in La Broma Negra and I wreak havoc the only way a true Buccaneer like my great ancestor Benito knew how! I draw blood, I pillage and plunder and I cast down those who think they’re untouchable, I sink their aspirations and their attempts to thwart my private, free enterprise and I leave them stranded on the shores of obscurity, surrounded by the other castaways and the ruins of their wrecks”
The young Latino man winks into the lens.
“I’m throwing up my Jolly Roger, and I’m going to show everyone that you cannot ignore the likes of me, you cannot drown out Rugido no matter how hard you try. I know it, and soon you the fans, and the company itself will know, that I’m far too much of a treasure to be held out of the spotlight”
Leoncio runs a hand through his hair, expression turning bashful, although it appears to be somewhere between feigned and genuine.
“The first step in doing so? Well that’s on Monday. See I’ve been booked in the opening round of Tag Gauntlet Qualifier, which puts me at - if you’ll forgive the expression - unknown water becarios. I’ve never done much in the way of genuine tag matches during my time in smaller companies, I’ve never wrestling Seth or Veronica - my announced opponents - and I’ve certainly never had the privilege of sharing the ring with a señora atractiva like Faith before”
He bites his lip as he mulls something over.
“So I’m somewhat apprehensive, my first step towards posting up the infamy that exists within my family name is a tough one, and the reason for all of that lies entirely on me. That’s not to detract anything from Iser or Valiant, as I’ve watched enough to know that they’re quality in that ring, and it’s certainly not Faith’s fault, as vexed as she appeared to be that my attempt at levity came off more as being one of those loca chavos hitting on anything with a set of breasts… I know I couldn’t request a better partner in this match given her wealth of experience in the company”
He points at his chest.
“The onus of how this match goes down rests entirely on me, on not letting Seth or Veronica cut me off on one side of the ring and pick me apart as the weak link. It’s on me to make sure that I’m ready to mesh with mi compañero instead of prove a hindrance, and it’s ESPECIALLY on me to make sure that my… well I’ll put this bluntly, I haveta make sure that I keep a reign on my overt charms so as not to cause Faith to piedra and lose interest in us working as a team”
De Soto nods into the lens
“Faith niña, there isn’t a pirate living or dead that could make their name and spread their notoriety by sailing alone. Trust me when I say that I am not seeking to upset you, and that together, with your well-rounded abilities and my submission skills, we should be able to sail far, and leave a wake of wrecks and fables about us in our wake. This monday is the maiden voyage, let’s make sure Seth Iser and Veronica Valiant take a long walk off a short plank... “
He cants his head to the side, a boyish grin gracing his face.
“¿Suena como un plan? I hope so, Faith, the only thing I wanna see by the time the final bell rings is Valiant and Iser swimming back to shore”
With that we fade to black.