Pteroid Posted November 29, 2017 Share Posted November 29, 2017 It was a balmy day in...well somewhere in Mexico, I wasn't briefed on exactly where. It was definitely on the coast because the palatial mansion I was being hustled through was overlooking the ocean...which ocean I wasn't exactly sure of. The perks of traveling with a bag over your head. By the way, name's K.P- K.P Avatar, AKA Dr. Funkenstein, AKA Dr. Crunkenstein, AKA Karl Phillip Avatar when my Mama's mad at me Now I would certainly like to relate to whoever's reading this exactly what the events were leading up to me getting a job offer and summarily being whisked away on a redeye flight to somewhere south of the border were but if I'm being honest (and Mama Avatar always stressed being honest) I hadn't the foggiest clue. Frankly for all I knew at that point some cartel boss had decided it'd be funny to stuff my jovial self into a plane and fly me down to his villa to just toss me into the...whichever ocean was crashing at the bottom of the cliffs below. Thankfully for me, that wasn't the case. Not so thankfully, a much more absurd fate awaited me. With the bag off my head I was marched into an expansive office with a view of the ocean below directly opposed to a wall housing one of the largest tv screens I'd ever seen outside of a movie theater. Seated at a desk across from the door I'd entered to was a man who looked at me with a calculating glare as intense as his choice of suit... Seriously, guy dressed like a funeral director. "Mr. Avatar," He growled in a voice so deep I could've sworn he was possessed, "Do you know who I am?" "Uh...no?" I admitted, dancing on eggshells as far as this conversation went, "I mean you're clearly a big shot considering the way you got me here and the..." I gestured to the room at large and the two men in security getups standing on either side of me. "No need for flattery," The man leaned in, regarding me like a hawk would a particularly juicy lizard, "I prefer to remain anonymous to the public at large, my name is Herb Mackintosh." "Wait, the mail-order appliances guy? My mom got my granny one of those Air-Fryers for Christmas from your com-" "Yes yes, I am a genius, thank you," Mackintosh cut me off, "You're not here to lavish praise on me, I get that enough from the vultures I call my children." "Oh uh...actually if I could ask, why exactly AM I here Mr. Mackintosh?" I asked, tilting my head. "Well young man, for quite a while I've been wanting to embark on a little venture, a sort of vanity project if you will, and I've been needing someone with the proper credentials to take the reins for me," Mackintosh pressed a button and the screen to my left came alive. "LUUUUUCHAAAAA!!!" The Semi-Main Event of South of the Border Wrestling's Feliz Navidad show, the ultimate showdown between World Champion Multimillionario and his ex-partner Pharaoh King, played out before both me and Mackintosh. The businessman's gaze never left me as I watched the whole match, every flip, every death-defying maneuver, every arm drag (there was a lot of those) that made up the bout that was every bit as good as the main event clash between the teams of Soul Taker and El Leon against El Fuerza and El Demonio. In the ending seconds, with both men bloodied and drained, Multimillionario dragged the referee to his side, complaining of a possible injury. This kep the ref distracted even as the crowd roared in anger at the appearance of the man who'd become Millionario's benefactor and mentor: RICH MONEY! Armed with a steel chair, the nefarious mercenary American who'd infamously betrayed two companies in one year's time leapt the barricade and bashed Pharaoh King's face with the foreign object. With the challenger dead to the world, the champion was quick to pick the bones and pick up the pin and win. "LA RUDA LA RUDA LA RUDAAA-!!!" Click. "Hell of a thing, ain't it?" Mackintosh asked as the screen switched off the image of Millionario and Money standing tall in the ring, "That event was broadcast not only in Mexico, but across the entire United States. Granted, MySelect isn't as popular as the SWF's broadcasters or Reverie, but it's opened the gateway for SOTBPW-Jesus that's a mouthful-to put its product on screens all over America." "Uh...huh? And what? This is where you tell me you bought South of the Border?" I asked, still not cottoning on to what exactly his deal was. Mackintosh steepled his fingers and locked in, "Mr. Avatar I've been a follower of pro wrestling since the days of Sam Strong and Rip Chord, when the truth that it was predetermined hit me I began to look at it as a medium akin to a tv show that was singularly beholden to the ebb and flow of its fanbases' interest. Certainly in massive dramas like RomeWorld or European Terror Tale the writers can see and react to plot developments that their fanbase finds particularly appealing or insulting to their intelligence but in the case of Professional Wrestling the audience is THERE, in the seats right in front of the performers grading their every move and passing judgement on every single word laid out by the characters before them." He spread his arms out in a wide gesture, "It is the ultimate test of a true performer, a mixture of athleticism and theater we haven't seen since the barbaric days of ancient Rome!" With the first grin I'd seen him flash since he'd brought me before him he finished his speech with a simple, "But no, I didn't buy them, I have something else in mind." "What? Your own lucha company?" I asked. "Yes indeed, don't you see? The market in America is clamoring for something different than the archaic jingoistic stylings of USPW or the crude 'edginess' of SWF or even what Japan has to offer us! Lucha Libre brings forth a mixture of what those guys on the West Coast do in the ring with the characters Eisen and Packer put on the screen every week. There's a wave coming and I am offering you the unique chance to ride it," He leaned in, staring intently at me. "So you're proposing..." I began, "We start our own lucha company?" "Not just any lucha company, a distinctly American one!" Mackintosh slapped his hands together, "One that will latch itself onto underbelly of SOTBPW and ride it to success and acclaim! We'll be seen as trailblazers in the American scene, blending the cartoonish world people stateside know with the new flavor everyone's excited about. We'll be to wrestling what sriracha was to...well basically everything for a while, I swear they put in cereal at one point. Point being, we'll have the market cornered in the states with the likes of OLLIE and EMLL still working to make themselves relevant in Mexico. I have it all planned out, my boy, all I need is someone to do the creative heavy lifting and run the place while I provide the money from back here in Mexico." "Wait, why don't you run i-" "Taxes, always the taxes," Mackintosh growled out the side of his mouth, "But enough about that my boy, do I have your support?" "..." I thought about what this crazed loon who'd all but kidnapped me said, was he really right? Was there really going to be boom for lucha in America? And even if there was what was a guy from Detroit going to do to run a fed based in it? And yet...this guy, nut he may have been, seemed to be onto something. And seriously, Mama Avatar'd been on my ass to get a job for a while now. "Yeah screw it, I'm in." "Excellent, I'll be in touch with you when you land in Florida!" Herb spun around in his chair and began tapping into a computer keyboard behind him. "Wait Florida-?" I began to ask. Then the bag went over my head again. "You're going to do great, Mr. Avatar," Herb called after me, "I can feel it!" FIERCE ACTION LUCHA LIBRE: UNITED WE FALL Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.