Post by hammerstein on Jun 19, 2017 20:10:31 GMT -8
I am El Temerario and I am a free man.
Typing that in his Twitter bio was easy. Saying it, however, was something altogether different.
“I am El Temerario and I am a……..”
A pause, a deep breath, and another attempt.
“I am El Temerario and I am a………”
Temerario leans back away from his laptop, his hand on his chin. His mask off, he runs his hands through his long black hair as he reads those words aloud, but cannot finish the sentence when it comes to proclaiming his freedom.
He was, for the first time in his career, truly free. No longer under the thumb of his manager, Manuel Villalobos, he could make all the decisions that pertained to his career. He'd even stayed in Kingston, Ontario after the Lion’s Road show on June 8th. When it came to his career, he had the authority, he had the freedom.
But with this freedom came a sense of worry, bordering on dread.
What would he do? Where would he go? Villalobos’ last act of tyranny was to demand Temerario’s immediate release from his Lion’s Road contract, even before he had brushed all the splinters from the guitar Temerario had shattered over his head. How would he make a living in lucha libre? More importantly, how would he be able to financially care for his ailing mother?
Charlie Buchanan had been kind enough to offer him several roles in commercials to help supplement his income, but it would have been just that, supplemental income. Luckily, he was contracted for the Gods of War ladder match for the GoL promotion and a win there, however doubtful it was, would mean a major financial windfall. But this was just one match. All the thoughts, concerns for his mother and for his career kept piling upon the young luchador, until finally, the Luchador Without Fear felt an overwhelming wave of fear crash over him.
It was at this time that Temerario’s Twitter notification sounded. The legendary masked warrior Nirvana, El Rey de Medianoche himself, had made the proclamation: Carny Pro Wrestling had risen from the dead. Already wrestlers of all cuts and from all corners of the world were making their way to the Carnival.
Temerario recalled stories he had heard of Carny Pro’s previous incarnation, stories that drew parallels to the tales his Grandfather told him of dark carnivals of Lucha that took place in what he called “The Outlands.”
The tales of the dark carnivals and Carny Pro had the same underlying themes:
Bloody battles, full of violence, chaos, and foreboding evil. Good men fought to remain steadfast against the darkness, only to give in and be engulfed by its power. Other, more sinister, beings loved the darkness, giving themselves over to it.
But a few men didn't give in to the darkness. Temerario’s predecessors fought valiantly against the evil in The Outlands.
Temerario’s Abuelo had spent time in the dark carnival, even defeating its demonic champion, though it cost him the use of his legs.
Temerario’s Padre won several battles in the dark carnival, battles that ended up killing him before his time.
It all made sense to Temerario.
The simple ping of the notifications tone may as well been his Abuelo and his Padre calling him to battle. The dark carnival was rising again, but this time it was not in The Outlands. It was in the cities. This time, it was not in tales or stories from the past. It was real, and it was happening now.
Temerario pulls his mask on over his head. It was his time to pick up the family sword and fight the darkness. He wouldn't fight it on Villalobos’ terms. He wouldn't fight it on the dark carnival’s terms. This battle he would fight on his terms. He would fight, and die if need be, on his feet, and not live on his knees.
He looks in the mirror, his eyes flaring with fire.
I am El Temerario and I am a free man
Typing that in his Twitter bio was easy. Saying it, however, was something altogether different.
“I am El Temerario and I am a……..”
A pause, a deep breath, and another attempt.
“I am El Temerario and I am a………”
Temerario leans back away from his laptop, his hand on his chin. His mask off, he runs his hands through his long black hair as he reads those words aloud, but cannot finish the sentence when it comes to proclaiming his freedom.
He was, for the first time in his career, truly free. No longer under the thumb of his manager, Manuel Villalobos, he could make all the decisions that pertained to his career. He'd even stayed in Kingston, Ontario after the Lion’s Road show on June 8th. When it came to his career, he had the authority, he had the freedom.
But with this freedom came a sense of worry, bordering on dread.
What would he do? Where would he go? Villalobos’ last act of tyranny was to demand Temerario’s immediate release from his Lion’s Road contract, even before he had brushed all the splinters from the guitar Temerario had shattered over his head. How would he make a living in lucha libre? More importantly, how would he be able to financially care for his ailing mother?
Charlie Buchanan had been kind enough to offer him several roles in commercials to help supplement his income, but it would have been just that, supplemental income. Luckily, he was contracted for the Gods of War ladder match for the GoL promotion and a win there, however doubtful it was, would mean a major financial windfall. But this was just one match. All the thoughts, concerns for his mother and for his career kept piling upon the young luchador, until finally, the Luchador Without Fear felt an overwhelming wave of fear crash over him.
It was at this time that Temerario’s Twitter notification sounded. The legendary masked warrior Nirvana, El Rey de Medianoche himself, had made the proclamation: Carny Pro Wrestling had risen from the dead. Already wrestlers of all cuts and from all corners of the world were making their way to the Carnival.
Temerario recalled stories he had heard of Carny Pro’s previous incarnation, stories that drew parallels to the tales his Grandfather told him of dark carnivals of Lucha that took place in what he called “The Outlands.”
The tales of the dark carnivals and Carny Pro had the same underlying themes:
Bloody battles, full of violence, chaos, and foreboding evil. Good men fought to remain steadfast against the darkness, only to give in and be engulfed by its power. Other, more sinister, beings loved the darkness, giving themselves over to it.
But a few men didn't give in to the darkness. Temerario’s predecessors fought valiantly against the evil in The Outlands.
Temerario’s Abuelo had spent time in the dark carnival, even defeating its demonic champion, though it cost him the use of his legs.
Temerario’s Padre won several battles in the dark carnival, battles that ended up killing him before his time.
It all made sense to Temerario.
The simple ping of the notifications tone may as well been his Abuelo and his Padre calling him to battle. The dark carnival was rising again, but this time it was not in The Outlands. It was in the cities. This time, it was not in tales or stories from the past. It was real, and it was happening now.
Temerario pulls his mask on over his head. It was his time to pick up the family sword and fight the darkness. He wouldn't fight it on Villalobos’ terms. He wouldn't fight it on the dark carnival’s terms. This battle he would fight on his terms. He would fight, and die if need be, on his feet, and not live on his knees.
He looks in the mirror, his eyes flaring with fire.
I am El Temerario and I am a free man