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Working Out; Getting in shape for the big match
Topic Started: Mar 12 2005, 06:10 AM (39 Views)
BobPalindrome
Unregistered

[The scene opens in a busy gym. Sweaty men and women grunt and breathe heavy as they work out on Nautilus machines, lifting weights, doing curls. We switch to a long line of baggy-clothed people running in place on treadmills, some looking at TVs just above their heads or listening to iPods.

We come upon El Lobo Loco and settle on him. He’s running, wearing a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants. A white towel is wrapped around his shoulders and, oddly enough, he wears a sweatband, despite the fact that he’s wearing his mask under it. Earphones grip his head as he moves at a frantic pace, his muscles tensing as he feels his blood replaced by battery acid. He grimaces as he goes harder and faster, pushing his endurance farther and farther.

Suddenly, a puzzled look comes over his face.]


Lobo: Wait, a minute!

[He stops and steps off the treadmill, pushing a button to turn it off as he does so. He grabs a bottle of water sitting on the floor nearby and takes a long gulp. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.]

Lobo: I’m fighting Max Corona!

[He shakes his head in disbelief a few more times before toweling off his face and heading out of shot. The camera is soon on him again, walking down a hallway toward the exit. He turns, looking over his shoulder, and addresses the camera.]

Lobo: Here I was trying to condition myself for my match this week, and it just dawned on me. I’ve wrestled this guy before… and I wiped the floor with him!

[Lobo comes to the door and swings it open. The camera follows him out into the parking lot and to his car, the same Cadillac from the earlier promo. Lobo gets in the driver’s side and the cameraman gets in the passenger door.

Now we’re looking at Lobo from inside the car, very Cops-like. As he backs out, he looks over his shoulder again and talks sideways to the camera.]


Lobo: Yeah, I heard him running his mouth. Talking about his luchador past. You think you’re a luchador, Max? You never were. A stupid gringo can never know what it really means to be a part of the Mexican wrestling tradition. You were an outsider while you were in Mexico and you’re an outsider to lucha libre still. This is my life. This is who I am. And I am never suffering the indignity of having my mask removed… Because this is the face of El Lobo Loco. Now and forever.

[As Lobo drives out onto the main street, he takes a cigarette from a pack sitting on top of the dash. He lights it with the car lighter, takes a drag and rolls down the window.]

Lobo: And then this puta says he lost to Sam Kinloch on purpose, to try and trick me. You think I didn’t already know you were a loser, Max? I knew that after I destroyed you in our match. Your losing to a woman only backed up what I’ve been saying to all the chicas who used to be so in love with you… That you’re all show and no delivery. Not just in the wrestling ring either, I’d wager. Who’s the most macho man in wrestling? Who’s your papi? You’re looking at him.

[Lobo lets out a light chuckle as he puffs a thick cloud of smoke into the air.]

Lobo: And the crap about my name and my not understanding the tape delay… That’s just racism. He’s threatened that there’s a Latin sex symbol moving in on his territory. Well, I’m sorry, Max, but chicks dig scars, and I have my share. I guess if women have the choice between an empty-headed pretty boy who can’t do anything and a half-man, half-amazing specimen of spicy flavor, they’re going to abandon your vanilla ass every time.

Look, Max, I’m not scared of you or any of your moves. The reason why I didn’t respond to your challenge earlier is because, well, I had beaten you already. If you were my position… having tasted victory at not only my Throwdown debut, but my pay-per-view debut… would you not concentrate on completing that victory? Kuriyama is still my main target, Corona, and don’t you forget it. The time will come eventually when there will be no more silly tag rules and I will face Bill in the middle of the ring and finish what I started at Déjà Vu. You’re just a stepping stone, Max. You should be grateful I’m agreeing to this grudge match when I’ve got… How you say?… “bigger fish to fry.”

[Lobo smirks at his idiom, taking another drag on his cigarette. He turns the car off the street and into another parking lot, but we don’t see what kind of building it’s for just yet. El Lobo turns his full attention on the camera now, his face becoming stern and his voice slow and precise.]

Lobo: Hit the gym, Max. Get yourself ready. Exercise all you like… Practice all you want. Because, in the end, it will come for nothing. I am the best damn high-flyer in the F.I.W. right now… Excluding Sam and Kennedy, but hell, they’re women. I am the real macho talent the public pays to come and see. And this Thursday they will feel ripped off, because they will witness a repeat of our last encounter. No matter what you do, Max, you’ll be left feeling defeated, helpless… impotent.

[He says the last word with emphasis, smiling wide. He gets out of the floor and the cameraman faithfully follows him towards the brick building barely in the shot. We still can’t see any signs identifying the place, though.]

Lobo: And while you’re straining, hurting, crying over the agony that’s about to come… I’m going to exercise here… working on my elbow-raising muscle.

[Lobo winks as he opens the door of the building and goes inside. The camera then moves upward, revealing a sign that says “Frank’s Bar.” Fade to black.]
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