The bar area of the Sapphire Princess was going strong on this Thirsty Thursday night, with big shots men and scantily clad women reflecting neon blue and pink strobe lights on their glistening bodies. There was alcohol a plenty to be passed around and a dance floor to gyrate around in hopes that doing so might score you a chance to “dance” a different sort of tango with one of the fine women crowing this small area. Tonight, though, many of these young and wild party-goers crowded around a table in the center of the room where, in an odd battle of mental and physical fortitude, T-Pain and El Trébol Jr were about twelve shots into a drinking contest.
The pair were standing around a high table, with Trébol using a stool to stand at eye level with the rapper to experience the full-effect of this encounter that only the UTA International Tour could facilitate. Trébol had gone full Toby Maguire Spider-man tonight with his mask pulled halfway up, his thin, pink lips pressed against his seventh shot like it was Mary Jane Watson. Downing the tequila like his life depended on it, Trébol slammed the empty shot glass down on the wooden table alongside the two dozen others already resting on it. He swayed a little in the stool, but maintained his balance nonetheless. For goodness sake, he had been an Irish lad wrestling in Mexico for two years; he learned to scale the top-ropes drunk a long time ago.
A full-shot was carefully passed to T-Pain, who lifted it in between unsteady fingers before finally shaking his head in defeat. “You win, man. I gotta wake up in the morning.” For a moment, El Trébol though T-Pain had spoken to him in Auto-Tune, but that was probably just the depressing effects of the alcohol kicking in. Of course, in the next moment, he realized he had won; then there was nothing depressing about this little guy.
“YEAH!” El Trébol exclaimed as he climbed onto the table, knocking shot glasses to the rocking floor below. “I owned you, T-Pain, so I better make it in your next single. Because I’m [Redacted] El Trébol Jr and you can’t have a real party without a [Redacted] midget!”
And then, unsurprisingly, El Trébol passes out from the alcohol, falling off the table in an unconscious heap, as the party resumed around him. The screen blacks out to emphasize this effect.
The scene fades back in come sunrise the next morning as El Trébol wakes up with shot glasses surrounding him in a quasi-chalk outline detailing his death in some way. No, he was very much alive, though the hang-over did give him a sluggish, zombie-like demeanor to him as he rose to his feet. A sharpie mustache had been drawn on the exposed part of his face by a bitter T-Pain, but that was quickly hidden away after Trébol pulled the mask back down. He also, oddly enough, wore a blonde wig atop his head unknowlingly as he stepped out of the bar onto the patio area of it, where the sun was just peaking over the horizon in the east.
Grabbing a chair as he sluggishly moved towards the railing, causing an audible scrape, scrape with each heave. Finally reaching the edge, Trébol climbed into the chair so he could see over the railing to the crystal blue ocean beyond. In the distance, viewers could make out in the morning haze an island that was steadily growing as the Sapphire Princess moved towards it. El Trébol stared out for a while, hands on the railing while the morning breeze rustled the blonde wig atop his head.
"That sure is a Lonely Island."
In actuality, it was the Isle of Kyushu, which was by no means "lonely;" it was hard to find such an island in an archipelago with over six thousand islands. Of course, one didn't not let the truth get in the way of a good pop culture reference. With that done, Trébol turned his attention to the camera as he rested his butt against the railing.
"I'm on a boat."
Okay, now he was done.
"I had never been on a boat before this. Born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, a city best known for the time we natives dressed as natives and had ourselves a little party on a boat. But I had never been on one until now." Trébol nods. "Indeed, I've been given a chance by a UTA to accomplish quite a few things already in the short amount of time I've been signed to the company, and come November Ninth, I'm given another such opportunity: to wrestle my first match with an American company since I began my career two years ago."
One of Trébol's hands drifted up to his head, as if to rub his bald scalp. Instead, he brushes the hair back behind his ear, finally noticing the strange object that had attached it to him. "You could say, like my opponent has already, that I'm thankful," he states as he reveals himself to the UTA universe, throwing the wig overboard to land in the water, floating endlessly until a shark came along and mistook it for a seal or a hairball or some shit.
"Thankful, Sabrina, and by no means underestimating you, despite what you seem to think. I cannot help but see what you are, there's no dismissing that, but I'm also the kind of the guy who doesn't assume the world over a perons, shall say, stature." Trébol gestures with both hands to himself as he continues. "So yeah, I see the Sabrina Baker who is smiling and throwing around phrases like 'good luck' and 'I'm thankful' like this perpetual ray of sunshine or positivity. You're a doll and I'm a midget in a business where chiseled men are the norm; so of course I know to look past that, to look at the root of our being in this business, to know exactly how capable they are. So no, Sabrina, I'm not underestimating you." A long, suspenseful pause. "I simply think what you've done doesn't justify me to worry over the outcome of our match."
Trébol shrugs his shoulders, no forgiveness or "no offense intended" by his demeanor. "Because you name drop these opponents you've faced, these Zhalia Fears and Quinlans, these Kendrixes and Abdul Ahads, but you don't tell me anything more. And that's all for the show, right Sabrina? You hope I simply accept this recognizable names as accomplishments without knowing the full story." Trébol grins from beneath the mask "Because when I do look, I see three losses against names who have been booked to fight in the Tokyo Dome and a single win over a man whose was injured and not even sure if he should still be in the company. A bunch of names that all compile together to yield this next equation: El Trébol Jr at Proving Grounds, the show where rookies and those unfit to make it on the PPV, compete. So please, Sabrina, flip your hair back and practice your smirks some more and try to honestly tell me that there's more about you than I've already laid out."
El Trébol points to his eyes, waving his finger around as if to circle them. "Because all I see is a girl trying to be big and bad when it doesn't suit her, both as a person and as a competitor. You should try and appeal to these fans, Sabrina, so that they will love to see your name every time it’s booked; because as a wrestler, you've done nothing but give people breaks on the main shows and filler talent for nobodies like me to throw around. You try to be this dark chick who dishes out these 'harsh realities' that, to this day, is still undefined and you're going to just alienate yourself from the UTA universe; couple that with wrestling ability that has stayed stagnant since arriving in this company, what really do you have?" Another pause as Trébol stares back across the ocean. "So stick to smiling, Sabrina, because your smirk is atrocious."
Trébol nods. "And try not to lose yourself amongst the changing landscape, Sabrina, even when your track record in that ring doesn't. You can be someone in this business, the sweetheart of the UTA locker room, and I can guarantee you that success will follow. But to threaten to throw a man overboard simply because he is small? That's low, Sabrina very low. More so, you're just not capable of doing that just yet."
Trébol drops off the chair to the solid wood floor below, as if to emphasize his point that he was firmly grounded on the ship. "I reiterate, Sabrina, that the only person you've defeated in the UTA was a crippled man who didn't want to be here, but I am neither lame nor looking to go elsewhere. Nope, I just got here and and looking to do so many things here in the UTA for the first time. Come November 9th, that will be my first victory with an American company, and there is nothing you can do about it."
El Trébol nods as the scene slowly fades out, his final words lingering after the screen goes black.
"Indeed, I'm on this boat until I choose to get off of it, not before."
"I'll cut him down to size. Be sure of that."
- La Flama Blanca