AF17: El Califa Dragon vs. Barbosa

[Viola Moonlight]

For what is being dubbed as a "first-time ever" encounter between these two stars, the newest sensation from the south El Califa Dragon will be taking on the fully-recovered Barbosa who will be looking to get into the swing of things following his match with SHIT at Unscripted. Nothing is on the line however, Callahan's recent snooping around near El Califa may prove to be a worry as well as Bowen & Cooper competing as the same show as Barbosa. However, until Aftershock comes and gives us proof, its all speculation.

Deadline is 11:59pm Central Time, Tuesday 22nd January. Extensions as per thread.​

 

[Барбоса]

*Light. Bright light. Piercing light.

That is the only thing that makes up Barbosa's world.

That, and the feint ringing in his ears.

And the pain.

And a strange smell.

Suddenly, a muffled voice is added to that rather miserable existence.*

???: So who do we have here? Wait a minute… He was in here a few months ago berating one of our coma patients…

*He was in hospital. That made sense. He was clearly broken in some way.*

Nurse: It seems that his madness finally got him into physical trouble.

*With that, things came flooding back to him in ever increasing detail.

Direction.

SHIT.

The Killing Fields of Unscripted.

A barbed wire wrapped, C4 exploding Texas Death Match that he was not even sure who won.

The last thing he remembered was hoisting that mechanical monstrosity up for a powerbomb. After that, nothing until the bright light of the hospital ceiling just now.

Such a memory lapse suggests that the succeeding few seconds had not gone particularly smoothly. Well, that and the pain.

However, even in his burnt and charred, dazed and confused, battered and bruised state, his drug-adled brain was able to recognise how apt it was that a quest of destruction that had begun with an Apocalyptic powerbomb, had ended with an Unscripted one.

Wait, there was something else coming back to him…

A song. Not either of his own. Something new.


At the sheer memory of that song, Barbosa begins to grow angry and restless, the adrenaline washing away the full-body pain he was feeling just moments ago. Fleeting memories of interference and attempted homicide pass before his eyes but he is unable to focus on them. He tries to reach out to grab them but both his arms are strapped down by his sides.

Another person-shaped blur appears in the periphery of his vision but he can not turn his head towards it due to the neck brace that someone had put on his.

And then a different feeling washes over his body. A relaxed feeling. Like he is floating on a cloud.

Sedation takes him and the last thing he sees is the bright light.*

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*Barbosa awakens some time later still in the same hospital bed, although, he is far more compos mentis and while he is still sore, he is able to move. However, as he tries to sit up and get out of bed, he finds that that is impossible.

He is handcuffed to the bed.

While he did not entirely appreciate being shackled like an animal, part of him felt somewhat reassured that the hospital had gotten a copy of his medical records - not surprising that it had taken them longer than usual as his records must be the size of a telephone directory - and taken the appropriate action for someone of his past behaviour.

To his right, a nurse was changing the bandaging on the rather nasty C-4 burn on his shoulder and upper right arm. It was probably the sting of disinfectant that had woken him up.*

Nurse: I am sorry to have to tell you, Mr Barbosa, but despite the bandaging and treatment, it is likely that you will be left with at best some permanent discolouration around the burn site. At worst, it will be a rather nasty scar.

*Barbosa did not care. It was a war wound inflicted in the heat of battle, a battle that he had wanted.*

Nurse: And what did you say caused these awful burns, Mr Barbosa?

Barbosa: C-4.

Nurse: Oh dear, are you in the mining business?

Barbosa: I'm in the wrestling business.

Nurse: You got these injuries in a wrestling match?

Barbosa: Yes.

Nurse: It does not sound like the wrestling my grandmother used to watch…

*In truth, the nurse was partially correct. As far as Barbosa could remember, his Unscripted showdown with the Man in the Box had not been much of a wrestling contest. It certainly had not involved too many flying mares, wristlocks or armbars.

Given the use of weapons, barbed wire and explosives, a "war" might be an overused but no less accurate description of that match.*

Barbosa: It was…

Nurse: Barbaric? Gruesome? Illegal?

*A smile creeps into the sides of Barbosa's mouth.*

Barbosa: Fun.

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*Barbosa had been checked out of the hospital for a few days now but was back for a check up on his burns and other wounds and, due to numerous members of the Creative staff being desperate to get him back in the ring due to what was perceived as a lack of high level talent, he was also there to get final clearance for his return to the ring.

His doctors and nurses had been somewhat reticent to agree to such a speedy return, complaining of the potential for an infection but a trademark Barbosa stare and a 'promise' to not expose himself to unsanitary conditions or a the kind of brutality that had landed him in hospital in the first place had changed their minds.

He could not afford any more time away. Not out of any worry of losing his edge or his 'spot' within the hierarchy but for the simple fact that he was not willing to let such a physical slight as that which had befallen him at Unscripted go 'unaddressed.'

He could also afford not to look weak.

Now, he doubted that few would have viewed him as weak given the circumstances of his time off but in Barbosan terms, 'weak' was a comparative term - in the past he had not taken any time off from a broken jaw or after any of the other brutal matches he had survived - and for him to be still laid up when his defeated opponent had been able to leave whatever auto repair shop he had been carted off to in order to collect an award in person was something that Barbosa took seriously.

It made him look weaker than SHIT.

There was something else motivating him to get back in the ring sooner rather than later.

It was not jealousy at SHIT winning an award or even disappointment that Barbosa had not been on hand had he won the Superstar of the Year award he had been nominated for - it was that Bowen and Cooper, who he had since discovered were who his brain was trying to remember with the song early in his recovery, had collected his Match of the Year award on his 'behalf'.

It was literally adding an insult to injury.

He now knew that he would be sharing a show with this newly formed Empire and while he had no plans for them, he thought that those would change rather rapidly once he caught sight of them. He might even consciously not have a plan for them just to see what his maelstrom of a subconscious could come up with.

The only thing that everyone knew about empires is that they fall. This one would be no different.

However, his lack of planning for Bowen and Cooper was not just down to some perverse hope that not planning would make things worse for them. He was also being distracted by the main reason for his presence on Aftershock - his opponent.

A mysterious newcomer who dresses in dark colours, hides behind a mask and about whom there appears to be very little published information…

Despite him being a newcomer, that description did not sound all that 'new' to Barbosa. He had 'shared' a dressing room with such a character mere weeks ago. They even had a name in common. They were even the same weight.

The only obvious difference, aside from a couple of inches in height, was that one of them spoke Spanish.

That is about as far as Barbosa's knowledge of his opponent went anyway.

The real distraction though was that there was something familiar about him…

It was not just that he reminded Barbosa of Black Dragon but whatever it was, he could not tie it down.

Perhaps he would do so on Aftershock when he stood across the ring from El Califa Dragon.*

Nurse: There you are, Mr Barbosa. That is as good a protective bandage as we can give you. And I must state again that we would rather you did not return to the ring so soon.

Barbosa: Noted.

Nurse: But not accepted... Promise me though that you will not get involved with barbed wire or explosives.

Barbosa: I promise.

*However, as Barbosa left the hospital, passed fit for in-ring duty, part of him knew that he could unconsciously break his own promise as he would have little or no control over his actions depending on his mental reaction to Bowen and Cooper.

He might be back here sooner than he would like…*

 

[Ty Burna]

We open to the backstage area once Aftershock 17 has ended. Various crew members run around cleaning up and packing equipment up. The camera pans around to show Ricky and Califa conversing before they shake hands and Ricky takes off down the hall. Califa turns and pushes the door to thelocker room open. He walks over to his stuff, ignoring the sound of others packing up as well before unwrapping the tape around his hands and arms before discarding them to the side. He leans over and removes his mask before replacing it with a fresh one, albeit with a different color scheme. He throws on a white tank top and some jeans to complete the change. A few moments pass and soon he has all his gear collected and shoved into his bag. He sits down and takes a deep breath, looking around the locker room and realizing that all the others had taken off already. He shakes his head and sighs quietly to himself, leaning back against the wall as his hands come up to the sides of his head, a grunt of pain escaping him.

Califa: Victory, yet El Califa does not feel quite so victorious this evening.

He sits back up and stares at his bags for a few moments before standing up and grabbing them. He walks towards the door and opens it, taking one look back into the empty locker room before shutting the lights off and closing the door. In the same direction a door opens up and a light flicks on, this time revealing a small one bed hotel room. A 20" old style TV sits upon a rickety dresser, a small table in the corner with the usual furnishings for a hotel room. Califa looks across the room, not even a window to look out into the city skyline. A sigh escapes him as he drops his bags on the ground before falling face first onto the bed, not even wasting time removing his mask. A few moments pass with no movement from Califa, and snoring can be heard through the Dragon's mask. We shift towards the side of Califa, his masked face pointed towards the camera. He stirs and shifts, curling up before wildly grabbing the blankets and throwing them on top of himself. Suddenly a whisper, almost like a breeze enters the room, the light flickers briefly but not enough to draw attention. A soothing voice, almost hypnotic in nature yet with a prominent accent shatters the silence of the room. The voice almost sing song like calls out the Dragon's name:

??? El Califa, it's time to wake up my dear.

Califa doesn't stir, the video squaring directly on his mask. The call continues over and over again, growing louder with each passing moment. Califa's head stirs briefly, and suddenly a high pitch noise fills the airwaves, just barely audible enough for humans but enough to cause pain. Califa grabs his head and sits straight up in bed, the camera shaking in the process as well. As Califa looks out the scenery suddenly changes in front of him, no longer the dingy hotel room but a city park at night, the crescent moon hanging like an ancient scepter among it's starry peers. Califa now sits upon an iron bench, a cobblestone path surrounded by grassy fields directly in front of him. A large light post sits next to the iron bench. He sighs and shakes his head before standing up and begins walking towards the path, not a sign of bewilderment within his body language.

Califa: El Califa grows weary of these dreams.

The alluring voice calls out once more, this time responding to him directly.

???: Have you not grown to love our meetings El Califa? It is such a beautiful night this evening.

Califa looks to the sides of the cobblestone path, not noticing anything in particular. As he walks he rubs his right arm, wincing in pain, the very arm that was damaged significantly many years ago.

Califa: And yet it won't last long.

???: Oh my dear, why must you always resist when I come calling? All you must do is indulge me and answer my questions.

Califa: The past shall remain dead, this Dragon's soul grows tired and needs rest.

Almost child like laughter can be heard echoing around Califa, the sky itself rippling as if a drop of water falling into a puddle. As the laughter continues, the rippling in the sky intensifies, now surrounding Califa. The scenery gives way to a nothingness, one which Califa strides directly into. For a brief moment Califa disappears before appearing again, and before him sits another iron bench, a lithe figure with silver hair sitting upon the bench. Her legs are crossed in front of her, a long black dress covering every part of her body and her bangs hanging over her eyes. Her arms unfurl from in front of her and pats the part of the bench next to her, beckoning Califa to sit down. Califa obliges her, taking a seat next to her. Darkness surrounds the bench, except for another light post next to the bench. Not even the previously starry sky can be seen.

???: Have you decided yet El Califa?

The woman coos towards him, leaning towards the masked Dragon. Califa shakes his head, not embracing nor pushing away the figure. He clasps his hands in front of him as he leans his elbows on his thighs.

Califa: I have told you many times what happened.

???: So you have, but will you tell me the truth my dear Califa?

The figure leans closer, her hands running along the sides of Califa's mask, her lips pursing as her bangs sway away from her eyes, revealing striking silver irises. Califa doesn't move, his face squared directly with hers.

Califa: El Califa has told you the truth every time you have brought me here.

???: Is it so hard to admit what happened then? Can you not feel the pain you carry within your heart every moment you deny this fact?

The woman takes Califa's head and cradles it against her chest, her fingers caressing the intricate designs of the dragon's mask with an absolute delicateness. Califa seems to be under the woman's spell, his every moment wilting under her touch.

Califa: It was about six year ago today wasn't it?

???: Indeed it was, though it has seemed just like yesterday my dear Califa.

The woman looks down somberly at Califa, her eyes growing heavy with what perceives to be sadness. Califa tilts his head up briefly before lowering it once more.

Califa: Six years ago......

The scene quickly shifts to outside an arena in Mexico, a number of fans surrounding the exit area of the arena. A younger El Califa Dragon walks out of the arena and the fans flock around him. A teenage girl follows behind him, carrying a bag of her own. Califa nods his head towards the fans and signs a number of autographs while the girl watches on annoyed. He looks back towards her and nods his head towards her before waving to the crowd. The two walk over to a slightly older vehicle, Califa in the driver seat and the girl in the passenger seat. As they take off the feed shifts to inside the car. Califa looks toward the girl and flashes a thumbs up sign to her. The girl smiles and laughs.

Califa: Shay, I'm so glad Mama allowed you to come down to México and join me on tour. I know I should be home fighting off all the hermanos off of my sister.

Califa begins laughing and Shay gets an annoyed look on her face crossing her arms in front of her.

Shay: Look at you with your bad ass attitude. You know I can handle myself, I don't need to run to my big brother for help all the time.

Califa: No, perhaps you don't. But you can indulge me at least and let me think I'm needed.

A laugh escapes him once more and the two siblings continue conversing until the feed jumps forward, Shay now having fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Califa looks towards her and nods his head. He focuses on driving, though his head dips down briefly. He shakes his head and takes a drink from a soda in the cup holder. After setting it down he yawns slightly, his head dipping down again. This passes for a few moments when a loud honk wakens him up. He grabs hold of the wheel and pulls it back to his lane. He lifts his hand up to his forehead for a brief moment before putting it back on the wheel. His head drops down once more, only this time the loud honk from the other side doesn't awaken him and lights fill up the windshield before going black, a loud crash can be heard in the background. The darkness slowly dissipates back to the previous scene, Califa lowered and sniffling can be heard behind his mask, clearly sobbing his eyes out.

Califa: Shaylina....I'm....I'm so sorry.

The silver haired woman looks down at Califa with evident sorrow now. She slowly sits him back up and takes his head in her hands, her eyes staring right through his mask and into his eyes. Califa tries to turn away but the woman shakes her head and keeps his head straight forward.

???: It's time for you to stop hiding Califa. This mask is your pride and joy, but it is also your mark of shame and guilt. It is time to come away from the shadows.

The woman tries to pull the mask off, succeeding a little before Califa is able to pull back, his head shaking.

Califa: This is all I have left of my family, this is all I have left of me. This is all I have left as the Dragon! I wear this mask to hide my shame. I also wear it to honor those that I have harmed because of my mistake! You will not take this away from me!

The woman looks stunned at Califa's outburst, her sorrowful face suddenly contorting into anger as she places her hands on his mask once more, the camera panning to behind Califa as she yells out at him.

???: Your facade will falter soon El Califa! This mask is nothing more then a barrier to those around you! Soon they will all see who the real El Califa Dragon is!

Suddenly the mask seemingly shatters all around Califa's head, falling to the ground like glass as Califa quickly covers his face up. A sudden shift happens and Califa sits up startled, now back in his hotel room, sweat pouring down his neck and chest. His mask is back on his face, though he quickly slides it off, his hands in front of his face as tears stream down and his sobbing commences once more as the scene goes black for a moment.

The scene reopens to Califa waking up once more in his hotel room, a cell phone can be heard in his bag across the room. He sits up and walks haggardly over to the bag, the back of his head to the camera the whole time, zipping through a number of pockets before retrieving it, fumbling to open it and answering.

Califa: Hola?

Dave: El Califa, this is Big Dave.

Califa: Sí, señor, how can I help you?

Dave: I was very impressed with your performance last night.

Califa: Thank you sir, though Ricky was the one that picked up the victory.

Dave: No matter, I want to push you to your limits Califa. Aftershock 18, I'm putting you up against Barbosa.

Califa: Entendido. (Understood.) I will not disappoint you.

Califa hangs the phone up and tosses it on the bed, collapsing in a seated position on the edge of the bed. He covers his face with his mask before lifting it up and staring at the design on it. He turns it around and slips it over his face, tying the strings tight before lowering his hands.

Califa: Barbosa.....

Califa looks down at his right arm, the prominent scar seemingly pulsating as he rubs it with his left hand. A shiver runs down his spine before standing up.

Califa: Shaylina.....This victory will be in your honor, mi hermanita querida (my dear little sister). Even if I must carry this mark of shame, forever brandished over my face.

The scene fades out.