The arena’s audience was full of good cheer and excitement (and tequila). It had been some time since the Great and Noble Cuauhtémoc had taken to the ring, and many of his fans–young and old alike–eagerly awaited his appearance.
Other fans, however, had their doubts.
It was the top of the night. The ring crew had finished clearing up from the last fight, a grudge match between the spooky, water-using spellbreaker La Llorona, and her highly absorbent opponent La Esponja (who did most of the cleaning up, in the end). The night moved on with expected punctuality, befitting the professionalism of a lucha libre spellbreaking match.
And so, all the audience’s eyes once again turned towards the entrance arch. The spotlights overhead suddenly blinked out, throwing the whole colosseum into sheer darkness. An evil, red light bloomed from the backstage, illuminating three, imposing figures, cloaked in shadow.
Shining, green, snake-eyes burned through the black. “Boys...it’s time to give this fairy tale a bad ending. Mwahahaha!!!!”
The sinister, heavy metal anthem kicked on just in time for the pyrotechnics. Geysers in neon green, bright red, and burnt orange, bloomed in fire. The colors matched the three, vicious physiques on stage.
First was the leader: the venomous Serpent, muscles oiled, and covered in his signature, snakeskin gear and mask. He stuck his long tongue out at the crowd, tasting their fear. Serpent was the spellbreaker that everyone loved to hate. Not only was he a devious menace and former rival of beloved gringo Colt the Bolt, but he was also head of the rudo academy called 'Los Venoms'. He posed alongside his two lackeys. Only a hefty penalty, built into his contract on behalf of the spellbreaking management, prevented the evil snake from bewitching the audience into bowing for him.
Still, Serpent was mostly happy just to intimidate–licking his lips with his uncomfortably long tongue. “Time to put this so-called King back in the nursing home where he belongs.”
Indeed, having been beaten by Cuauhtémoc before, the wicked Serpent still had bad blood with the ol’ wind drake.
The massive man behind Serpent threw off his blood-rade cape, shoulders adorned with the skulls of some prehistoric beasts. “RAWWWR!” the beastial Tirano Rex growled, shaking the rafters. His scarred body, large and muscular, was as imposing as the rest of him. As he stalked savagely down the aisle, sniffing the air, bearing his fangs, and showing off his claws, a group of children right across the barrier burst into tears.
“HEHEHE,” Rex laughed. “My favorite sound.”
Of course, not all of the children in attendance acted the same way. Right across the aisle, a bunch of snot-nosed kids wearing dinosaur hats cheered. “YESSS! Go eat ‘em, T. Rex!”
“Roaar! Also my favorite sound!” T. Rex grinned, but his momentary lapse of judgment earned him a knock on the head from the wily serpent. “Ow!”
“Pay attention,” Serpent scowled. “What kind of rudo are you?”
T. Rex wouldn’t let himself be bullied, not even by his so-called superior. Already showing cracks in these dark triad, the dino bore his fangs at Serpent. “YOU MAY BE FELLOW LIZARD, BUT I WON'T HESITATE TO CRUSH.”
“And I won’t hesitate to renege on your pay,” Serpent snarled. “Remember who’s show this is, Tirano, unless you want to be yesterday’s news.”
“Grr…” Annoyed, but just happy with the prospect of crushing heroes, T. Rex relented and bit his tongue.
Trailing behind them, and taking too long of a time admiring himself in a golden hand mirror (adorned with rose motifs) the towering third member of the rudo trio took in the sight of his own arms, handsome face, and…horns?
“Wow,” the fans in the front row whispered to each other, “his mask is so realistic.”
“He’s so dreamy,” the scantily-clad hype girls (and boys) at the aisle squeed as Fernando Velasque paid them zero attention, too caught up in his own irresistible visage.
“Oh yes, Fernando, you are soooo beautiful!” the ‘Minotaur Matador’ cooed to his reflection. He blushed. “Yes, thank you, Fernando. No, thank you. Oh, stop. Are you hitting on me? Oh, but you are the most handsome, muscular, fighter in this whole arena–of course!”
The audience members stared at each other in confusion. Who was the strange luchador in the tight, green matador pants and bolero jacket? And why was his bull-like mask so lifelike? It was practically the size of his head!
“Must you look at yourself constantly,” Serpent snarled, pushing the broad-shoulder bull man forward.
Fernando snorted–fogging up his own hand mirror. “Oh, but you have ruined it! My handsome visage.” He tossed the mirror aside. It collided with one of the cleaning crew, knocking him out, instantly. The bull man took notice, laughed at the unconscious fool, and bounced his pecs. “Perhaps if you drank more muscle milk, you would be as strong as me–and not such a little weakling. Now, clean my mirror, peasant, if you know what’s good for you!”
The three, wretched rudos took over the ring in their own fashion. Serpent stared down the ref, making sure to intimidate him into giving his team a favorable result. T. Rex preoccupied himself with chewing and gnashing on the ring ropes, activating the runes woven between them and making the turnbuckles sparkle.
The crowd booed his showboating and self-indulgent antics.
The Matador huffed, turning to Serpent. “Do these peasants not have taste, or is this merely how you treat Spaniards–the progenitors of your own language?”
The crowd booed louder at that.
As the rudos jeered at the audience and made a mess and mockery of the ring, a heroic, techno bachata came on over the loudspeakers, as rose petals descended from the rafters. The tecnicos appeared from behind the entrance curtain, all lined up on equal footing. Temo, in his regal, feathery robe, stood between his two scions. El Amante, of course, did his signature, sexy two-step for the crowd, and Prince Lazuli waved with an earnest sincerity that made everyone take notice of the newcomer.
“Wow, he’s cute!”
“He could be El Amante’s little brother! Adorable!”
El Amante winked at his trainee. “My prince, I think they like you.”
Behind his lovely mask, Lazuli blushed.
As the three heroes shook hands with the audience–Temo getting the most love of all, and El Amante sending men and women alike into swoons of passion–a pink-clad figure tripped out from behind the curtain, landing face down. Bandito hopped up, no worse for the wear, and placed his hands on his hips in triumph.
“And their trusted valet, Bandito! Yayyyy!” Pink Bandito cheered for himself and joined his friends by the ringside, somewhat confusing the audience.
Temo approached the ring. Above, Serpent sneered down at him.
“So, we meet again,” the noble king of the spellbreakers said.
Serpent flashed his evil eyes. “And this time, you will suffer in the fangs of defeat.”
“Hmph.” The regal veteran nodded to his two companions. “Keep your eyes on the prize, boys. This fight has yet to begin, but these rudos need to be taught a lesson.”
Pink Bandito continued to fawn over the three tecnicos. “They are all so sexy. I don’t know which one I could pick. Hahaha! But of course, I, the Pink Bandito], will take all three!” Spying a handsome audience member making eyes at him, the distracted valet immediately sprung to his new crushs’ side. “Mmm. Or...perhaps I shall take this opportunity to practice my Spanish.”
Across from El Amante, Fernando sized up his erstwhile rival (in his head anyway) and crossed his bulging arms. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my nemesis.”
El Amante blinked, scratching his mask. “What? But I am nobody’s nemesis.” With that, he proudly declared his intentions, puffing out his chest heroically. “El Amante Intoxico–The Guardian of Love–is a friend to all!”
“Hmph!” Smoke coming out of his bull nostrils, Fernando struck a pose and RIPPED off his tight, matador pants, flinging them into the crowd on his side of the ring–who proceeded to simultaneously faint in unison. Fernando, unable to stop flexing and showing off, mimicked El Amante’s signature arms-behind-the-head himbo stripper pose.
The Matador’s little, golden briefs were barely legal!
El Amante gasped. Trembling, he pointed an accusatory finger at the bull-man. “You…YOU! Nobody tears their pants off in the ring, save El Amante!” And with that said, El Amante did the same, ripping off his own, purple-pleather pants and tossing them to the crowd on his side of the ring (who likewise proceeded to simultaneously faint in unison).
With a baseball catcher’s ambition, Bandito leaped up and caught El Amante’s trusty pants. “I’ll hold your gear, mi amigo!” the plucky valet said. As soon as the camera weren’t on him, he snuck a quick sniff…
Back in the ring, the Matador and the Hunk stared each other down, threatening to ignite the space between them on fire. Fernando spat vitriol. “If you were really as sexy as you claim to be, you wouldn’t hide your no-doubt hideous face behind that stupid mask.”
“My mask represents a legacy of love and admiration for this sport.” El Amante said, tossing his prettyboy hair back. Behind him, Lazuli and Bandito both clutched their hands together and squealed in adoration. Temo rolled his eyes. “You seem to only love yourself, Minotaur–and your heart is ugly as sin!”
The ref signalled to both teams that the fight was about to begin. Either side would need to choose the first fighter.
Lazuli pumped the air with his fist. “I’ll go first.”
“No,” Temo said, sternly. “You should hold back while El Amante and I wear these bad boys down.”
El Amante shook his head, thumbing his piled up chest. “But Boss, it is I who should go first and teach that self-absorbed bull man a lesson in love!”
The three heroes were at an impasse. Neither wanted to budge. Finally, Lazuli sighed. “Temo is right. He should go first.
The bell rang. Temo tossed his feather cape, caught and pulled along by his wind spell, and carried over to Bandito. Without eve looking behind, Temo warned, "Sniff it, Bandito, and I’ll head-lock you so hard your eyes will fall out of your pretty, gringo skull.”
That out of the way, Temo hopped straight over the ropes and faced the bull head on. “Letting your henchman do your dirty work again, Serpent? You're just like your gear. You never change!”
Fernando flexed his biceps for the seasoned spellbreaker. “I am very hench, but certainly no man!” he said, charging forward, horns pointed directly at Temp.
“Hmm.” The great king smirked. He waited. Bandito bit his fingers. Then, at the last second, Temo bounded into the air and grabbed onto Fernando’s horns, using them as leverage. While Fernando reacted, Temo summoned an updraft beneath the bull man, using both the force of the pull and the gale below to toss the Matador Minotaur into a cyclone suplex!
Wham. The bull hit the man, tongue lolling out of his head. El Amante and Lazuli grabbed their masks in shock, before turning and high-fiving each other.
Temo brushed off his shoulders, staring down at his first opponent. “Talk about ground beef.”
At ringside, Serpent’s eyes glowed with rage. He gripped the rope tightly in frustration and pointed at T. Rex. “Get in there and TAG HIM OUT you fool, before gramps pins him.”
“As if I would ever claim victory that quickly!” Temo barked back.
“No no no,” Lazuli and El Amante stammered. “We want that! Please!” The beefy man in purple sighed and consoled his younger ward. “That’s the problem with the King. He’s too proud to go for a pin that quickly.”
“But what about strategy!” Laz squeaked back. Then, noticing T. Rex sneaking around the ring with stealth and speed, the Prince pointed out the danger. “My liege–look out!”
“GAHHHHHHR!!!!” T. Rex roared, sailing through the air, jumping into the top rope, and throwing himself towards the unwitting Temo.
“Huh?” The wind magi, considering clamping his boot down on top of the minotaur’s (large) chest and claiming a win, looked over his shoulder at the final second, just before the force of T. Rex’s boots collided with his back.
“AGGHHH!”
The crowd–including El Amante and Prince Lazuli–winced, feeling Temo’s pain. The older man buckled and collapsed to the mat, right alongside Fernando. Serpent sneakily plucked the minotaur’s legs while the ref was distracted, and dragged him beneath the bottom ropes to safety.
T. Rex, clawing the air, loomed over his opponent. “How’s your back feel…OLD MAN!?”
Lazuli thought he was seeing things. There was no way T. Rex was taller and heavier than Temo, who could easily eat him for breakfast. But then, suddenly, T. Rex was twice the size, growing larger. This was his power, Lazuli thought. Super size.
Temo struggled to recover, but didn’t get a chance–T. Rex SLAMMED his boot onto the King’s broad back, crossed his legs over each other, and dug his nails into the King’s chin, causing him to groan in pain. The super-sized dino hunk threw himself backways, pulling Temo up into a painful bow-and-arrow hold!
“Gaaaaah!” Temo cried out. Even the ref was shocked to have to ask him if he meant to surrender.
El Amante leaned forward over the ropes. “Come on,” he whispered. “You can hold out. I know you can.”
Lazuli threw his hand out threw the ropes, but even he knew it was too far. “C-come on, King! Tag me.”
El Amante whipped his head to the Prince. “No, my Prince! T. Rex will eat you alive. He has an appetite for twinks.”
“Grrr…” Laz looked up into El Amante’s soft, understanding eyes. “Then when will you two let me DO MY JOB and tag in? You can’t just protect me. I gotta’ get in there, man!”
El Amante bit his (very kissable) lips, and looked between eager-eyed Lazuli and Temo, struggling not to give up. It was a testament to the King’s fortitude that he hadn’t yet surrendered.
Concentrating, Temo exhaled. A gust of wind knocked T. Rex to the side, destabilizing his balancing act of aggression, and allowing Temo–limbs and tendons thoroughly outstretched–to crawl towards his compadres.
El Amante sighed. “Go get ‘em, my handsome,” he said, leaning in and giving Prince Lazuli a gentle kiss on the neck.
Suddenly, Lazuli’s adrenaline, strength, and spirits all rose exponentially. “WOO!” he cried out, emboldened by El Amante’s shot-to-the-heart. The spirited Spellbreaker flipped over the ropes, impressing all in-attendance, and tagged Temo just as T. Rex was about to snatch his boot and drag him into defeat.
But Lazuli didn’t stop there. Zeroing in on T. Rex’s animalistic, hunched up movement, Lazuli flipped yet again in the air. This time, he channelled his mineral-enhanced ability, turning his mask diamond-hard. Sailing like a battering ram, Lazuli SMASHED into the dinosaur, who collapsed to the ground, stunned.
Lazuli flipped his hair back out of his face, righting himself on the landing, and emboldened by the crowd’s positive reaction. Ringside, El Amante beamed with pride. Temo, more subdued, nodded with fatherly approval. Bandito, naturally, was too busy flirting with the concession stand guy to notice.
The ‘Big Bady Dino Daddy’ had shrunk back to normal size–which was still twice the size of most, full grown men anyway. Nevertheless, as he jumped back onto his feet, Lazuli was compelled to take a careful step back out of his reach.
A prince vs a dragon. Nice. Classic matchup. I can do this.
The giant, muscle beast looked down at Lazuli like one of the churros Pink Bandito was currently stuffing his face with at ringside. “So tasty tasty,” Rex said, licking his lips. “I will eat you.”
Rex went for the lunge. Laz was quicker. The young luchador with the pretty, blue mask slid beneath T. Rex’s legs (a risky tactic) and sprung up behind him, crawling up the confused bruiser's back like a spider monkey. The Prince jumped onto Rex’s shoulders and wrapped his arms around his neck, going for a choke.
Temo growled. “That’s way too dangerous. He could crush him.”
“My friend,” El Amante said, placing a gentle hand on his former mentor’s shoulder, “We must trust our small companion.”
Rex grabbed Laz's arms, trying to pry them off. “Gruk!” He choked. “Your…arms…too…puny to put down…Rex.”
“Not when I do this,” the young luchador grunted. Eyes flashing lapis blue as his forearms became the same, solid blue stone of his namesake. T. Rex’s eyes bugged out.
Temo was summarily impressed. “He knows his magick well,” he said. “Perhaps there is hope for this young rookie, yet.”
On the opposite side of the ring, Serpent grunted with disdain, looking down at the overly dramatic Fernando, still icing his sore head. “Tch. I refuse to be shown up by a sniveling little pup and his idiot masters!” The Serpent leaned over the ropes, mindful of the ref, and locked eyes with Lazuli. “Yes…good boy. Look at me…look deep into my eyes...”
Straining with all his might to choke the life out of Rex, and keep his magick stabilized, Prince Lazuli glanced upwards as he took in a deep breath. It proved a fatal error.
Serpent’s eyes glowed green. So did Lazuli’s. He was under his entrancement!
The next thing Lazuli knew, he had been flipped down by an angry, roaring, muscle monster. T. Rex, righting Lazuli, locked his massive, tanker truck arms around T. Rex’s back and squeezed down tight, like a living trash compactor. “NOW YOU GO SQUISH!”
Lazuli couldn’t even groan or yelp. The air had already been squeezed out of him. And besides, he was still caught in Serpent’s trance–unable, or unwilling, to fight back. His spine might break and he wouldn’t even be aware!
His tag partners exchanged concerned glances. “It’s that bastard’s magick,” El Amante said.
Temo nodded. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Wait,” El Amante cautioned, holding out his hand. “I have dealt with Serpent before.” He leaned forward, into the ring. “Hey, handsome!”
“Gr?” T. Rex looked over.
“No…not you. The young ‘handsome’!” El Amante’s eyes glowed a soft pink, and all around him was an aura of rosy calm. The masked, muscle man blew a (visible) kiss towards Prince Lazuli.
Whatever he did, Lazuli snapped out of his trance, already fully aware that his organs were about to become tooth paste in T. Rex’s grip. Laz thought quickly, summoning a crystalline, blue shard between him and Rex–it hurt like hell, but the rock between the hard place broke T. Rex’s sweaty grip.
Breathless and sore, Lazuli managed to flip backwards from T. Rex and tag in El Amante, who jumped over the ropes and charged straight for the demonic dino. “Hey, quit picking on my little friends, you big, delicious brute!”
WHAM!
A deadly scissor kick from El Amante’s giant legs knocked T. Rex flat on his back, just where El Amante wanted him. Flipping his hair, and blowing another kiss to the audience, El Amante went for his Scorpion’s Kiss leglock, picking up Rex with ease and twisting his legs and back into such a painful position that it would have made anybody else black out.
But pain was not El Amante’s weapon of choice, especially against a heartless fiend like T. Rex. El Amante turned on his power, converting pain into intense pleasure.
“OhhhhGGGGHH!” T. Rex groaned, drooling green onto the canvas, as his eyes went back into his skull. “Feels…too….nice! I am…full…of….gentle emotions. I CANNOT TAKE IT ANYMORE!”
The dinosaur tapped the canvas. Lazuli jumped into Temo’s reluctant arms in victory. El Amante, of course, celebrated by doing his little stripper routine in the arena, gyrating his hips and giving the crowd a peek of his ‘lucky’ red thong just beneath his trunk line.
Steaming under his mask, Serpent planted his palm against his face and sighed. “Idiots. I am surrounded by IDIOTS!"
With the second round on the horizon, Serpent looked over at his useless lackies. He knew he should have brought one the other boys into the situation. Buck wasn't yet ring ready, however, and this was not the right match in which he could unleash him upon the world. Serpent had expected better from the Matador, but it was Tirano Rex who disappointed him most of all. The man was a wild brute, but there was too much joy in his heart. He wasn't truly evil, jut chaotic.
Tightening his grip on the ropes, Serpent tapped into his dark mind and conjured up a dirty scheme.
"Fine…I’ll do this MY WAY.”
To Be Continued
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