Our scene quietly opens in the dismal...darkness. A consuming shadow of a nearly emptied locker room. Lightly the room illuminates at the flick of a light switch,bringing moderate light to the room. An emptiness in the air as lightly in a black and white tint a shape is made out in the corner, facing a 3 ft by 1ft mirror branded into a locker area. He appears roughly 5'10, some light brown hair. His face a mystery, hidden as it's hung low. His feet planted firmly onto the concrete floor, his white looking wrestling pants with unseen writing on it...in a low voice he mutters to himself.
Man: "Do I have it anymore? The heat, the talent, the skill?"
A voice emerges from behind the mysterious man, obviously a wrestler as the camera pans back to a man, roughly 5'8, with a medium build and adorned in a black "Santa Fe Snake" tank top,jean shorts and some nike shoes. His ethnicity is mexican, his long blackish brown hair roughly shoulder length, similar to a mullet. He speaks his heavy mexican accent to the other mexican man.
Other Man: "¿Su es dudarlo Hugo?"
The other man, obviously Hugo Marinez II doesn't turn to respond, his face still facing toward the floor as slowly a bit of color enters the picture,he responds monotonly, his accent not so heavy, more of a texas/american flavor to it.
Hugo: "Siete meses Jorge que he estado en el sideline. ¡Después que ese caer a Riptide yo sólo llevé la máscara una vez más y eso era para mi un apperance de tiempo en la televisión de MCW. 7 de junio ..and yo tengo que encarar al hombre que es el legado que falló de apoyar, el cinturón él prided tanto y ahora es perdido a algún gringo que puede no aún lucha!"
Quietly Hugo sighs in silence as his brother Jorge looks down, sympathy for his younger brother.
Hugo: "I'm a failure to our tradition, just like our father."
Jorge's face explodes in rage as he yells as his brother, as he begins to walk out...
Jorge:"¿Un fracaso? Usted emparejó Kakuma en su propio juego. Olvídese a su mortal que cae. ¡Usted no puede sentarse aquí y para poder estar melancólico acerca de es como usted se llama un fracaso! ¿Me dice, cuándo usted mira en ese espejo, qué usted ve? Usted ve la vergüenza innecesaria. Ponga esa máscara en, y eche una mirada alrededor aquí.."
Jorge storms out of the locker room,slamming the door as Hugo's left, staring at the mirror. His face hidden as the camera as if looking through Hugo's eyes glare down at duffel bag, black. Slowly his hands unzip it,fishing through the darkness of it as he pulls out a beautiful leather luchador mask, more specifically his. The Santa Fe Snake. It glows a silver shine and black outlingins upon white slashes as he stares upon the logo, a snake stencil with a crooked crown atop it's head. He slowly pulls the mask up to his face, the camera fading to a back shot as it slowly slides over his face..a glance into the mirror as it rests loosely upon his face. Suddenly the camera backshots into the room, filled with colors. His eyes open as they show desire... a flame slowly re-igniting within his soul. A gap filled that was missing for such a long time. He stares into the mirror, a grin upon his face as he tightens his mask from behind his head.
Hugo: "Ssseven months Kakuma. Ssseven long, tidious months of recovery, rehabilitation and training. Thessse days my dearest friend where do we ly? We are back to square one essse. You and I, Marinez and Sying, The Lucha libre versusss the technico. Their is no X divissssion title this round. No Raine Ssssteele. You sssee Kakuma, even after your leave to TWF and your embarasssing loss to Logan, I've watched you. I've watched you train your asssss off. To return to a healthy point in your careeer. I did thissss as your friend Kakuma. As a sssstudent, a brutal cheerleader I guessssss. Yet you now have changed. You can't sssspeak for yoursssself. Yet again you've let otherssssss like this ignorant Blake get in the way of what you really want, blinding you of your quessst to be a legend."
Hugo stands up out of his chair and and turns to face the camera, face to face. He slowly walks closer to it, his walk almost a prowl of sorts as he rested low and looked at it, staring into it, his eyes speaking millions of words, of fire, of pain, of glory.
Hugo: "Lassssst Halloween when you handed me that beautiful golden belt with the crestend crimssssson "X" upon it you told me three wordsss that haunt me to this day. You remember them? Or doessss your fodder of a manager Crevan even care of even know of me? Keep it close. Keep it clossse you told me. And I'm going to admit it to you, man to man asssss we meet next Saturday. I failed you, I failed to maitain that legacy. Where I failed to uphold Kakuma'sssss legacy, you failed to up hold yoursss! You failed to be Kakuma, the man you bled, sweat and cried to exissst as. You losssst him. He's nothing but a myth. You hear of people sssspeak of "the legend of kakuma". How bad doessss that kill you to know that they speak about him, not you Lei-Yu Ssssying. Don't deny it. Lei-Yu Ssssying could never match up to be Kakuma. It isssn't a disssspute of namesss. It'sss of pride. A matter of two men of myths, two oppossssssing heroes who sssstand face to face with each other. Kakuma and mysssself!"
Hugo's eyes intensifty with pure desire, hate, love, passion. He stands closer, glaring deep into it, a tear sliding down his eyes and into his mask as he slithers his tongue a bit, ever so slowly sinking back into what made him the santa fe snake.
Hugo: "We meet in what sssshall
be not our lasssst match. A new beginning. The Ssssanta Fe Snake meets
China's Sssshining Shinobi. The last Marinez Luchador meets The old mask
of Lei Pao Pong. We each ssstand firmly by our countriesss flag. Yourssself
China. Myssself will represent Mexico. Both of ussss are so well versssed
in the other'sss style. Where you know how to keep up with the art of lucha
libre I know how to match your technical fever. At the sssstampede will
elevate the bar, ssssset a new sssstandard for what two wresssstlers can
do! And then when one of usssss holds the others flag we shall await for
the othersss to arrive, to begin thisssss lethal lottery. Doessss it crosss
your mind Sying what happensss when we are left in the ring. Two men who
share no love losssss yet unmeasureable amountsss of resssspect are assssked
week in and week out to set that asssside and try to be partnersss? To
try and be a team. No need for Crevan to sssspeak for you on thisss one.
It'ssss impossssible. You sssseee at Black Dawn we begun ssssomething.
Not a feud, not a rivalry, a war. A battle which's woundsss will not heal
until one of usssss is gone. We cannot work assss team ever. And ssssso
shall it be ssssaid by the Santa Fe Ssssnake. Till another day."
Fade to Black