The Prince and His Knights - Part 4: Final Round

Crestfallen, the tecnicos gathered at ringside to discuss their losses. Bandito took it up upon himself to tend to Lazuli’s injury by providing with a shoulder massage (even though the pain was in the young fighter’s legs). El Amante Intoxico, unusually glum, couldn't help but spread his sore emotions to his compadres, which didn’t help matters. As the younger fighters licked their wounds, the veteran King Temo scowled, more disappointed than furious.

Which, for Laz, was arguably worse.

“I’m…so sorry, my King,” Laz said, wearily. “I got ahead of myself.” He eyed the rudos gathering in the corner of the ring, celebrating their triumph with a slew of taunts and self absorbed muscle flexes.

Temo sighed. “Perhaps,” he said. “Or…perhaps my age is starting to show after all.”

“I cannot believe I let that scoundrel get to me!” El Amante lamented, unconsciously striking a dramatic pose (a bad habit of his). “I was far too emotional!”

“Wow, they really exploited your weaknesses, huh.”

The three fighters, all surprised, looked to their comic relief valet. The roguish Bandito blinked. “What? I am just saying! I may be a thief, but I am no liar. I am actually quite blunt.”

Temo scratched his neck and looked askance. “Pink Bandito is right. The rudos targeted our insecurities. A brilliant tactic, to be sure, and just as devious as effective.”

“Divided and conquered,” El Amante added, pounding his fist into his palm for emphasis. "Trying to all play the role of the main character didn't seem to work. I attempted to be like the suave, sexy, hero in a telenovela...but I was usurped by my evil twin!" El Amante clutched his head (still dramatically) in feigned agony. "HOW COULD I POSSIBLY BE SO BLIND!?"

“But…” Laz added, ignoring El Amante's antics, “if we stand united together, we can play to each other’s strengths.” He looked over at the rudos, who all still appeared to be engaging, intimidating, or posing for the crowd in their own fashion. At least they were easily distracted. “See? Those idiots can’t get along. They’re all in it for themselves. They may try to cheat, but they can’t coordinate.”

The mood had shifted. Temo placed his hand on Laz’s shoulder. “Now, you are thinking like a fighter.”

“And a lover,” Bandito added, wiggling his eyebrows. “No, but seriously, you each do your own thing very well. Now string your moves together together…” Bandito did a little two-step to demonstrate. “Like a saucy, Argentine tango.”

Laz blinked. “But we’re in Mexico.”

“No, no, I understand his vision” El Amante, completely serious, said. He patted his bumbling valet on the back. “Bandito may be a clown, but is it not always the fool who tells the truth!? Now, my handsome friends, come huddle…we shall concoct a plan.”

It had been a strange match for King Temo, but as he stood back and took in this new generation of spellbreakers, hatching strategy, his heart filled with pride. Maybe these two young hotshots can pull this off after all.

Round 3.

It was a standoff worthy of a cinematic western. The haughty, bad boy bull on one side; and the young her--in lapis blue--on the other. Minotaur flexed his bicep. The crowd booed him.

“Your countrymen have no taste,” Fernando snorted. “Which is why I am going to take out my frustration on you now.” The Minotaur Matador licked his lips with a long tongue. “I was going to send you to the slaughter house, but perhaps I will turn you into one of my little bull boys after all.”

Laz gagged. “You’re so gross, dude!”

The bull charged. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Once again, Laz was caught in a tight headlock, with his face smashed up against the bull’s smothering pectoral.

“Now, you will drink my muscle milk or be suffocated by my heaving, heavy, HARD pectoral!”

But he’s a male bodied dude, he can't produce m–you know what, I don’t want to find out And as Laz formulated these thoughts–and not wanting to ponder Fernando’s body composition or glandular composition any further–he quietly channelled his magick into the space just above the bull-headed brute’s head. 

“Jsshspptt.”

Fernando cranked the headlock on harder. “What was that, little brat? I couldn’t hear you as my boobacious, man-meaty, thick, juicy grade-A, chest is covering your snotty mouth.” He let the hold go, just slightly. “Well?”

Laz smirked. “Jackpot.”

“Huh?”

Fernando didn’t even see it coming. Laz’s lapis stone slammed into his head at full force.

CRACK!

Fernando’s eyes swivelled back into his skull. “My…beautiful…head…”

The Spanish rudo stumbled backwards, giving Laz some breathing room. The Prince, shocked his technique worked, looked over to El Amante–and Temo–who nodded approvingly.

“You need to stop bathing in cologne,” Laz said, running up and flipping in the air. “IT SMELLS TERRIBLE. GET A BETTER BRAND, CHEAPSKATE!”

Laz jumped into the air, grabbing onto Fernando’s horns, and used them as a vaulting horse to pivot upwards and over to El Amante, tagging him in. El Amante jumped up onto the ropes, defying gravity, flashing his beautiful smile at the audience, and eliciting cheers of “HE’S SO HANDSOOOOOME!”.

“Really took the bull by the horns, chico!” the luchador winked. “Now, it’s time to take HIM to the slaughter house!”

“That’s…my…line,” Fernando said, still punch-drunk.

El Amante jumped into the air, weathering himself in pink light. “Cupid’s Arrow Dive!”

The human missile hit its target, sending up a mushroom cloud of pink rose petals and hearts. Fernando, with hardly any life left in him, just managed to pull himself over and tag in Serpent. Rex did the rest, ripping Fernando’s body out of the ring and dumping him onto the ground–where the crowd completed his undignified defeat by pelting him with garbage.

Laz, breathing heavily, gave his two bigger pals a thumbs up. “Thanks, dads!”

“Dads!?” El Amante and Temo said, in turn, looking at each other and blushing. But the luchador of love did not linger on the subject for long–he had more important matters to deal with–namely, Serpent staring him down.

The demon’s eyes brightened, flashing emerald green. “We aren’t so different, you and I. Come. You can still join me, you know. Just like your–”

BAM!

El Amante’s elbow collided with Serpent’s jaw, nearly twisting his head 180 degrees around.

“...Fa…jsther…” Serpent said, as he spit out his own bloody fang onto the canvas. Before he could fall, El Amante grabbed him by the neck and brought him to his feet.

“You are a cliché,” El Amante snorted. “Cliché is predictable. It is also a French word, so I am nto 100% what it means. The difference between you and I, serpent? Well, there’s many. But for one, I fight for love, not for hatred. And NUMBER TWO…I am very unpredictable. LIKE THIS!”

SMOOCH!

Laz and Temo’s eyes bugged out of their head, as the crowd gasped. “Oh my goodness, he kissed him.”

El Amante kept the lip-lock on tight, causing Serpent’s eyes to transition from alien green to rosy pink.

Now, let’s see what you truly hide in your heart. What is your desire, mi amor? I shall turn it into your downfall! Ah…what is THIS?

El Amante’s gifts invited him into a vision of Serpent’s most romantic desires. A handsome, broad shouldered, muscular man with long, blonde hair–naked save his white briefs, flung his ponytail back in the water of an outdoor shower. Looked like a barn, or a stable, by El Amante’s reckoning.

OOOOH. Who is this most studly of studs, this most muscular of muchachos…BUT NO! Can it be? It’s…el jefe himself! Colt! 

In the monochrome vision (reminded El Amante of a badly produced perfume commercial) the coquettish cowboy winked at the viewer. “What you starin’ at, partner? You wanna ride th–”

Ahhhhh okay, that’s MORE than enough. My goodness! So, this scoundrel's hatred of Colt has only masked his TRUE intentions: LUST! Not that I blame him, of course. Colt is a delicious, FIERY, meaty piece of Texas BBQ. But he is a father! And besides, he loves Varla Montes. And also, Serpent is EVIL. He would be a TERRIBLE match for Colt! He probably leaves the toileT seat up and takes his shoes off on the plane, and that's not the sort of partner one of my best friends–AND EMPLOYERS--should be dating. No, this will not do. Huh. I think I am overthinking this. I should probably stop kissing Serpent and get back to the match. For now, I–THE WARRIOR OF LOVE–know the dastard’s weakness.

…Vaqueros ;)

El Amante removed his mouth from Serpent (now drooling and delirious). “You need a mint!”

The dastardly rudo came-to faster than anticipated. “Curse you, BOY. My enchantments may have no power over you, but I can still out-muscle you any day of the week!” Serpent grabbed El Amante and whipped him into the ropes, but El Amante merely rode the momentum, flipped over Serpent’s head (stopping to blow a kiss to the crowd, slo-mo style as he did) and latched onto his back, threading his legs over Serpent’s thighs and yanking his arms back painfully.

“IT’S SUNDAY!” El Amante declared. “And now I will ride you like a cowboy!”

Serpent broke out in a hot, red sweat. “N…not a Pallo Special. N…no!”

“I will ride you like you are a bull!”

From ringside, Fernando, an ice-pack on his head, groaned. “I…resent that remark.”

“This is it!” Lazuli declared, white-knuckling the rope. “Come on, ref! Get over there!’

The ref, still delirious from before, wobbled over to check Serpent’s submission. “I…am doing my best.”

“He is doing his best,” Bandito echoed, from ringside, with a nod. Shivering with anticipation, and ecstatic to see the tide of battle changed, El Amante’s protege’s terrible attention span served him for the better–his eyes were drawn to the hulking form of T. Rex stalking the ring like a predator.

Bandito gasped. “A shark in the water! Or a dinosaur, rather. Ref, watch out!” 

Unfortunately, Bandito didn’t know the Spanish for ‘watch out’, and so the ref had no idea what the gringo was saying as he asked Serpent for the submission.

“What do you say, Serpent?”

“NEVER!” Serpent hissed, maniacally. “Back away, you old fool!”

“Okay, wow, I have feelings too.”

El Amante clamped the hold on tighter. “Apologize to him! He is a working man.”

Serpent growled in agony. “I…WILL NEVER APOLOGIZE TO THE WORKING MAN!!”

But just as El Amante felt his powers replenish, and was ready to turn all of Serpent’s pain into instant pleasure (no doubt causing him to moan in an entirely different way) the world was ripped out beneath the Warrior of Love’s feet! T. Rex’s claws sank into El Amante’s meaty calves, forcing him down into the mat.

“GOT YOU!” T. Rex snarled.

El Amante lost the grip on Serpent and fell backwards. T. Rex used the leverage and pulled himself up into the ring, just as he activated his powers and ‘super-sized’ himself anew. He grabbed the ref–by the head–and tossed him over his shoulder. The poor man fell into the commentator's table, knocking the whole staff into the horrified crowd.

It was anarchy! Even worse, Fernando had managed to dust off his head wound and re-enter the ring. All three rudos circled El Amante, rising up from the ground.

“Normally this many muscular men leering down at me is my idea of a fun evening,” El Amante said, eyeing each villain. “But something tells me, you guys don’t have a safe word.”

Lazuli looked over at Temo, whose face had fallen into despair. “We gotta get in there, dude!”

Temo glared at his young apprentice. “First off, do not call a ‘king’, ‘dude’. Second, the ref is out! We cannot enter the ring and take advantage of the situation. We are heroes!”

“If we don’t, El Amante is gonna get his amazingly toned butt KICKED! And then his boyfriend, Iggy, is gonna’ to blame us and…” Lazuli gulped. “Look, Iggy Astro is scarier than those three doofuses combined. And besides that, my King, sometimes heroes have to bend the rules too. I understand you come from a clean-fighting generation. Believe me, I prefer a fair fight…mostly because it’s less stressful. But we need to stick up for our friend.”

Temo lowered his head. “Perhaps you are right. This game has changed. Well, my young friend, don’t just stand there…” 

The wind magi summoned a gale from below, and the graceful man rode it to the top rope. “Can you keep up with this old man?” He extended his hand to Laz.

Smiling, and trying not to get emotional, Lazuli took the hint, grabbed Temo’s hand, and allowed the stronger man to throw him into the air. As he did, Lazuli twirled around, encasing his body in glittering, radiant crystal. He’d turned himself into a weapon.

And just in the nick of time too. As T. Rex and Serpent wound up for a double kick to El Amante’s head, Lazuli crashed into Rex, knocking the energy out of him and reverting the giant man to a (less) giant size. 

“What the devil?” Serpent spat, looking over at Temo coming at him hot. “I don’t think so, grandpa!”

Serpent jumped out of Temo’s path. But it was only then that Serpent noticed that Temo wasn’t aiming to crash into him at all. He was aiming for his feet.

The whirlwind sprouted from Temo’s collision into the mat, like a shockwave of wind, and picked Serpent clean off the ground.

“Grandpa?” Temo asked, straightening his back and cracking his neck. “No. More like…daddy.” 

Lazuli’s crystalline cocoon shattered, embedding chunks of rock in Rex’s back. “GAAAAAAH!” the dino yowled. 

The three fighters, Prince Lazuli, Temo, and El Amante, stood back to back, facing down their foes–three generations of heroes.

“Let’s do this.”

The Matador Minotaur snorted. “I’ve had enough of you (frustratingly attractive) Mexicans BUTCHERING MY LANGUAGE! THIS IS FOR THE GLORY OF THE KINGDOM OF SPAIN!” 

Out of graceful tactics, Fernando went for a dirty head-butt, aiming his horns right for El Amante’s chest. El Amante was quicker–he dove right underneath Fernando and hoisted him up with all his strength, making the bull airborne.

El Amante looked up. “Fine. Grathias!”

SLAM! 

Fernando twitched at El Amante’s feet. “D….de nada…”

Temo locked up with Serpent, whose arms and legs were already sore from El Amante’s submission attempt. “I will take everything you hold dearly,” Serpent snarled at the veteran.

Temo rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what I like.”

This time, Temo took a page out of Prince Lazuli’s book. He used his force of wind to push himself away from Serpent’s clutches, into the ropes, where he bounced off and jumped into air, wrapping his legs around Serpent’s neck.

Prince Lazuli gasped, as did the audience. “Is he…going for it?”

“An old favorite,” Temo said, mid-air. “A hurricane hurricanrana!”

Temo and Serpent found themselves in a twisty dance, spinning and tumbling again and again in the air, with Temo’s wind storm keeping them aloft. Temo, unaffected, had no problem with the move. But Serpent’s head was scrambled by the dizzying motion. All the better, as Temo used the momentum of his wind storm to SLAM Serpent right into the ground, next to T. Tex.

“Two down,” Lazuli said. He looked up to see T. Rex removing shards of rock from his back.

The monster flicked a piece away and bore his fangs at Lazuli. “I WILL EAT YOU!”

“Which part first?” Lazuli said, slipping under Rex’s legs again. He went for the ropes. This time, however, he grabbed onto the top rope, like a gymnastic bar, and used it to flip himself over and through the ropes. Lazuli’s boots took on a strange transformation, shifting from rubber to solid lapis–veined with streaks of golden pyrite. The Prince’s boots began to glow with radiant intensity.

“ULTRAMARINE SHOCK!” Lazuli said, driving the force of his feet into T. Rex’s gut.

The monster’s eyes bulged out of his head, as the dinosaur reared back and spit the wind knocked out of him. Onto his back, the great east fell, joining his knocked out comrades.

Meanwhile, at the ringside, Bandito yanked the ref and pushed him onto the ring apron. “I’m not kissing you again,” he said, slapping the man gently across the face with his signature rose. “Wake up, abuelo!”

The man groaned. “I’m only thirty-five!” he said, crawling over into the ring. “Gotta…do…my…job.”

ONE! TWO! THREE! DING DING DING.

The crowd erupted into applause. El Amante, exhausted and disbelief, let his hair fly over his face as he leaned forward. Lazuli and Temo were all-too happy to give their friend a hand, and raised his arms on either side, in triumph. 

“Holy crap, I can’t believe that worked,” Lazuli, dripping with sweat, said, just as Bandito fell to the canvas in front of the three heroes, and struck a pose with a rose in his mouth.

“And I helped!”

“You…didn’t really do anything,” Lazuli started, before El Amante covered his mouth.

“Ah, let him have his moment,” the man in the purple mask said. 

With the adoration of the crowd secured, the three heroes raised each others hands in triumph and bowed. El Amante and Temo found it right to lift Laz up on their shoulders and walk him out of the aisle.

"It feels good to be the prince," he said, winking towards the audience.

The End

  

The Prince and His Knights - Part 3: Round 2

The bad blood between the infamous rudo, Serpent, and the warm-hearted (and big muscled) tecnico, El Amante Intoxico, was legendary. Like something out of a telenovela, their past was an intertwined drama of betrayal, passion, and--potentially--murder. El Amante was third in a line of masked spellbreakers, and though his father was meant to take on the mantel (or mask) of Victor's heroic grandfather, the man travelled a much darker path when he joined in with Serpent's insidious stable...

And it cost him dearly.

And so, most in the audience were keenly aware of the tension between the two fighters when, at the start of the second round, Serpent jumped into the ring and met El Amante head on.

"You." El Amante scowled, his attractive eyes beneath his mask forming an intense, penetrating glare (and not the kind of penetrating El Amante was fondly known for, either). The ‘Warrior of Love’ loved almost everyone, but Serpent was another story.

The snake-themed rudo flicked his tongue at El Amante. Seduction or intimidation, it was hard to tell. “Well, well. If it’s not Dark Sabre’s prancing, sissyboy of a son.”

El Amante rebuffed him. “A sissy with muscles!” He proclaimed, showing off his biceps and causing at least two or three audience members in the front row to faint on the spot. “Sure, I have sugar in my tank–but it’s the tank of a mighty locomotive that’s about to RUN YOUR WICKED SELF DOWN.”

Serpent glowered. “Just like the car that ran down your father?”

Lazuli gasped. Temo tightened his grip on the rope. At least three audience members dropped their elote and gasped.

El Amante felt his heart crack. He was no doubt one of the strongest men in the arena–but his strength and weakness were his emotions. For in addition to being extremely strong, undeniably attractive, and extraordinarily brave...El Amante was also absurdly sensitive. It felt like he had just been slapped in the face. It was not that Serpent had said it to him that hurt El Amante the most, but the sheer concept that someone could say something that terrible to anybody!

Lazuli grew angry on his behalf. “That…bastard.”

It was just as Serpent had hoped. Distracted by the cruel remark, Serpent jumped up and drop kicked El Amante right in the gut, knocking him into the ropes and sending him backwards. Serpent made sure to arch his back, causing El Amante to trip and fall over onto his face.

“Now we’re talking,” Serpent said, getting up and giving Fernando the signal. Serpent took the opportunity to deliver a series of stomps to El Amante’s muscular, prone body.

The bull-man at ringside wiggled his sultry eyebrows seductively at the ref. “Oh, hello. Fernando did not see you there. Ah, but you are…so handsome.”

“N-no…” the humble, gentlemanly ref said, blushing. “You can’t be talking about little old me. Hehehe.” He coughed. "Could you?"

The Matador drew closer. “Allow me to kiss your hand as as sign of profound admiration,” he said. The ref offered it to him, willingly, and Fernando did just that.

“Heh.”

Then, the bull-headed man’s eyes flashed silvery white. The ref’s blood pressure dropped on the spot, and his eyes went every-which-way. 

"FOOL!" Fernando laughed (his pectorals bouncing to the time of his mocking laughter). "The Matador Minotaur admires NOBODY but himself!"

Temo sniffed out the magick right away, and was shocked at what he saw. “That’s…the glyph of Vitalis,” he said.

Lazuli, distracted by Serpent attacking El Amante, whipped his head towards Temo. “What? The Life glyph? You mean…Fernando is a healing magi?”

“Life can be given,” Temo said, gravely, dashing towards the cheating bastard. “Just as it can be taken!”

“Oh, si si si si,” the Minotaur from Madrid laughed, as the ref went limp in his arms. “And once eyes are fixed on my glorious visage, all it takes is a single touch to drain the energy from my fans. Or victims..."

Just as Temo went down to assist the ref, Fernando’s beefy hand grabbed his chin and forced his gaze upwards.

“OR BOTH! Hohohohohooo!” 

Temo’s back stiffened, and his world went dark. The King collapsed and fell off the ring apron, along with the ref. Fernando gleefully posed above them, blowing kisses at the booing crowd.

"Hahaha, you silly little locals with your inferior basterdizations of the mother tongue...do you not know that your boos only make Fernando more powerful!? As if your silly opinions matter. You cannot comprehend the true beauty that is this study bull before you! Hahahaha!"

This wasn’t good. Prince Lazuli swallowed, wondering how he could tag in and rescue El Amante. With the ref knocked out, the rudos could easily have their way with all of them. El Amante was in peril, and Temo was knocked out. Lazuli didn’t know which man to try and rescue.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get the chance. Feeling hot breath on his neck, Lazuli turned around and looked up into the lizard eyes of T. Rex, all fangs and very hungry.

“GET OVER HERE!!!!” Rex said, grabbing a fistfull of Lazuli’s hair and YANKING him over the top rope–pulling the Prince into the beast’s den.

Serpent, wiping his brow, looked over as their new captive, just as he kicked El Amante into the gut and sent him, near unconscious, through the ropes. “Looks like your knights aren’t here to save you anymore, my sweet prince. Now, I can feed you to my monsters! How sad. Such a short-lived career. Such wasted potential. That is...unless you join my crew?”

Fernando and T. Rex leered over the dizzy Prince Lazuli, caught in the shadows of the two hulking beasts. "Never!" Lazuli spat, trying to find his stamina. "You're all weird and you smell bad too!"

Meanwhile, at ringside, the clumsy Bandito finally managed to pull himself away from his flirting long enough to see Temo’s lifeless body propped against the ring ropes.

“Fear not, handsomes!” Bandito said, rushing to Temo’s side. “I’ll wake you two up…with the power of love!”

With that, Bandito planted a kiss on Temo’s lips (and…perhaps held it longer than necessary). Imbued with a soft, pink light, Temo’s eyes flickered open. “Tastes like…cinnamon and chocolate.”

“Whoops!” Bandito blushed. “Forgot I had churros before the show. Now, onto YOU, big boy!” 

The heroes trusty valet grabbed the ref and planted a wet one on his face. The humble man, upon realizing what was happening, turned red and pulled away. “Don’t…don’t tell my wife.”

Bandito responded with a flirty wink. “Once again, the day is saved!”

However, contrary to what the oversexed luchador trainee might have thought, the day was most definitely NOT saved. Not for Prince Lazuli, anyway. With only his command over minerals at his disposal, Lazuli conjured a shard of lapis and brandished it in defense of the preening, pec-bouncing bull man.

“Oh, how cute,” the cow-headed narcissist cooed. “Is that a gift for me?”

Lazuli sucked on his teeth in frustration. He was out muscled. “No. And also, your nipples are oddly shaped.”

“All the better to feed you my muscle milk, my studly calf.”

Minotaur pulled Laz into a tight headlock, smashing the poor, young luchador’s face into his meaty pectorals. “Gross!” Laz squealed.

“Hmph! How insulting. I was going to make you into one of my mindless, muscle-bull boys and add you to my stable, but since you’re being so RUDE, I will instead feed you to the dinosaur!”

Fernando easily scooped Lazuli up into his arms, and then slammed him down–painfully–into the canvas, before the Prince could even hope to turn his conjured weapon against the Minotaur Matador (he’d hoped to break it over his horns). The blow to Laz’s back was intense. This definitely wasn’t friendly sparring. Still, he couldn’t give up. He reached for his shard of lapis…

Only to see it crushed under foot of T. Rex’s thick boot! The jewel shattered into dust…as did Lazuli’s hope.

“Hehehe…LUNCH! And PAIN IS ON THE MENU, MY TASTY LITTLE PRINCE!”

The next thing Prince Lazuli knew, he was inverted, his hair dangling over Rex’s knee, his arm clamped tightly under the big brute’s arm pit, and his legs bent to the point of snapping off, over Rex’s head. 

“Little luchador wussies like you call this the shield hold,” Rex growled, drinking in the site of Laz’s suffering. “But I prefer the raptor jaw hold!”

The name was stupid as hell, but all Laz could think of was his tendon snapping off! “I…give!” he cried out, weakly to the ref. Better to live to fight another day.

Rex was happy to keep the move on just a but longer, before the ref demanded otherwise. Though the Big Bad Dino Daddy snarled at the arbiter, he allowed the stretched out and bent Prince Lazuli to fall to the mat.

“Well done,” Serpent leered from his corner. And, with the way Fernando preened and posed for the fans, any viewers at home who’d just flipped to the spellbreaking channel might have thought the bull-headed matador had clinched the victory all on his own!

Their weaknesses targeted, and unable to form a cohesive unit, it looked as if the heroes were quite literally on the ropes. With one more round to go, how would the Prince and his knights defeat these fairy tale villains?

To Be Continued...

The Prince and His Knights - Part 2: Round 1

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