Ojo Del Tigre

This wasn’t supposed to happen. When Carmen came to the arena during a Tension episode, she had no intention of starting anything or making any trouble. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have been anywhere near the arena - one of the perks about being the 24/7 Champion was that she didn’t have to attend any of the live shows, and she was never scheduled for any matches.

Granted, the downside was that her opponents sought her out and fought her in the streets at random, but at least her schedule had a good opening in it. Time she could spend doing other things.

The only reason she was at the arena was to finish up some business with the main office, settling a deal with Cassandra Sellers on one of the rare times the woman was actually around to be talked to. It was a quick thing to be done, and once Carmen was finished, she was well on her way to the parking lot, hoping to get out before the show ended and she had to contend with traffic.

That idea was promptly forgotten when she passed a television screen and saw Soledad Vega.

Carmen had been walking down the hall when her eyes looked onto the screen, just above the food court. It was Soledad, no question, having a wrestling match with some kid in a silly getup. Calling it a ‘match’ was perhaps being a bit too generous, since the young Puerto Rican was easily dominating him in more ways than one, unquestionably winning.

She didn’t think much of the display itself. All she knew was that this was the same woman who’d ambushed in her own home, wrecked her property, and nearly stole her belt. She had more than a few words to share with her fellow Latina, and tonight was the perfect time to do it, while Carmen knew she was around.

The match ended, another match happened, and in the meantime Carmen found the Tension stage director and convinced him to give her a promo spot. It took a little strong-arming, but her belt gave her enough push to get it done. The damned thing had its uses.

Sure enough, the second match ended, and Carmen’s music started up not long after that. She didn’t come out and high-five the crowd, she didn’t make a big show of getting the audience behind her. She simply stormed down the ramp, the 24/7 Title on her shoulder, wearing nothing but her jeans, a red and black striped tank top, and her sandals. Clearly not dressed for action. The crowd was understandably confused, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

Carmen grabbed a microphone from the announcer’s table and made her way into the ring. She laid the 24/7 Belt in the middle of the squared circle, letting its shimmering clockface glisten in the lights, and stepped back. Her eyes locked on the entrance, totally focused, and then, finally, she spoke. Only a few simple words, but filled with heat and venom.

”Soledad Vega!” The audience came to life as soon as the name left her lips, easily figuring out where this was going. ”Stop whatever you’re doing and get out here, right now. Right now.”

Soledad Vega could never get over that initial rush, that came with a victory.  From getting her teeth kicked in on the streets of Puerto Rico as a youth, to getting her first taste of actual wrestling competition in a grungy gym, to fighting in front of countless screaming fans in a large Japanese stadium, it was always the same.  Heart threatening to pound out of her chest, chills running up and down the back of her neck, the sensation was the greatest thing she'd ever felt in her life.

Pulling a towel quickly off the shoudler of some passer-by, Soledad began dabbing her skin vigorously.  Not a substitute for a full shower, at least not yet, but the victorious Puerto Rican youth wanted to spend a little more time in the backstage halls of Tension before hitting those showers.

Still, Soledad tugged at her top, trying to get some fresh air on her hot skin.  The match she'd just finished had been as one-sided as a ball, but it was still a great deal of work.  The physical exertion, the hot arena lights and the body heat of a thousand screaming fans.  There was no wonder professional wrestling demanded so much of its competitors, if simply stepping into the ring took so much out of them!

Still, the teenage street fighter had much more in mind for her career than simply competing in the ring.  Soledad had goals.  Dreams.  Dreams that inolved making more of a name for herself than helping to usher an adorable young rookie into manhood.  Tonight was a fun change of pace, leaving her more flush and breathless than sore and aching.  But it was nothing compared to what she'd faced, before.  Walking into Carmen Rodriguez's own home, nearly ripping the 24/7 Championship out of her hands.  Standing up to Killer King in her debut match, and actually managing to get a win against one of the most sadistic competitors in all of Tension.  The Youkai Kid was great fun, but not the level of competition Soledad was looking for.

Looking for a water bottle to steal, a voice coming off the monitors roused her out of her thoughts.  
"Eh?" she muttered, hearing her name come off a monitor surrounded by gawking crew and talent.  She could see Carmen on screen, the 24/7 Championship slung around her shoulder.  There stood the champ, the first time Sola had seen her, since their last encounter ended in handcuffs- not as much fun as that sounded- and frustration.  And, sure enough, Carmen had the audacity to call her out!

Without missing a beat, the teenage street fighter turned on her heel and rushed her way to the entrance ramp.  Still flush from her match, Soledad's face was even more red at the prospect of Carmen- in her jeans and tank- literally just waiting for her to come out.  Sola shouldered past the gorilla position crew, and emerged once again onto the entrance ramp.  Sola sashayed her way down the ramp, stepping hard, her body swaying side to side while the light caught the sheen of sweat across her skin, highlighting the tension in her muscles.  The crowd cheered, her recent win fresh in their minds.  Sola stood at the foot of the ramp, staring into the ring.  Lifting her chin, Sola put her hands up at either side, curling her fingers as if to say, "I'm here, what do you want?" Still, despite her flippant demeanor, Soledad glared hungrily at the title, laid out across the mat.

This was hardly a new thing Carmen was doing, calling out someone and expecting them to appear. In her case, she had a bit of an advantage, in that she knew Soledad was still in the building and that there’d be a high likelihood she would see her on stage. They’d only met a couple of times, but Carmen knew Vega’s type. She’d grown up with that type all her life.  She would come.

That knowledge didn’t make Carmen any less anxious, though, as she started circling the ring, fuming all the way. ”I know you can hear me, Vega.” She jabbed her finger towards the exit. ”You can either come out here, or I’m coming back there. Either way-”

Luckily for both her and the audience, she didn’t have to wait very long, as Soledad came storming down to the ring like Carmen was the one trespassing on her personal property. She clenched the microphone tight as the crowd egged them both on, but she managed to keep her rage in check. For the moment.

”You’re got a lot of nerve, perra.” Carmen took a step towards Sola and pointed that same finger down at her. ”You come here, you come to my house, my own home, you cheapshot me in the middle of the night, and why? Where do you get off?”

Carmen followed Soledad’s gaze down to the belt, then looked up and locked fiery eyes with her, as the arena started to sizzle with Latin heat. ”Is that it? You think you deserve that title?" Carmen pointed at her chest. "My title? What makes you think you earned it? Huh?”

Soledad tossed her hair off to one side, and stood at her full height. She presented her body proudly, projecting to the crowd that she was confident. Bold. Not about to take any shit off of the woman in the ring, calling her out. Even if she was a champion, a veteran, and one of the most dedicated fighters that Puerto Rico had ever produced.

Still, Sola's breath caught in her throat as Carmen addressed her. The teenage street fighter felt almost insulted, as Carmen laid out her grievances. Her abs tensed, as her breath caught in her body. She let her breath out slowly, taking her time before she spoke.

"Deserve it?" she said, at the top of her lungs. Her tone was level, but Sola wanted to speak up loud enough that the nearby mics could pick up her voice. "Maybe, chica, that's because I do deserve it. Maybe because I did earn it!

"Maybe because I had you beat down, dead to rights, and ready to lose that pretty belt, huh? Maybe because if the policia hadn't shown up, and pulled me off of you, it would have been me, coming in here tonight with the Championship, huh? It should have been me coming in here, with that championship!"

Soledad's voice got higher toward the end of her rant, her composure coming undone at bit as she got into it. The Puerto Rican street fighter stood there, at the base of the ramp, chest heaving as she tried to calm herself down, glaring her rival up and down.

Standing there, watching Soledad talk, it was hard for Carmen not to see some of her younger self in her fellow feisty Latina. She could respect the desire to prove herself, wanting to pit yourself against the best and come out with a title around your waist. If the roles were reversed…

...on second thought, no, Carmen quickly let that notion slip away. She wouldn’t have done it like Soledad did it. She wouldn’t have violated someone’s privacy to get a title belt, and she wouldn’t have been so bratty and annoying about it. All reasons that Carmen wanted to plant her fist squarely in the middle of this little upstart’s face.

”Excuses, excuses, excuses.” Carmen shook her head, looking Soledad’s way like she was an unruly child. ”You had your chance, and you lost your chance, complaining about it doesn’t change a thing.” Even if she did have a slight point. Maybe Carmen could’ve kicked out. Maybe she couldn’t have, and the police’s intervention saved her. It wasn’t a question she liked dwelling on.

”I know about you, Sola.” Carmen’s eyes narrowed into slits. ”I know about your father, and I know that arrogant head of yours shouldn't have a hair on it. Running out on the apuestas stipulations wasn’t enough for you, so you’ve came here, and you’re starting the cycle all over again.”

That one drew some mixed reactions from the audience - cheers, boos, confusion. The more savvy among them seemed to get what Carmen was implying, realized why not living up the apuestas stips was such a big mark of shame. Others didn’t seem to get it or care, firmly coming down on the side of the fresh new face in Tension.

”You’re a good wrestler, Vega. But you’re arrogant, and you think the world owes you something. It doesn’t, and I sure as hell don’t.” She picked up the belt and held it up, making sure she could get a nice, long look at it beside her face. ”But if you want to fight me for this belt, I don’t have the right to stop you. Name your place and name your time, and I’ll be there, if you agree to one extra condition for the match.”

Sola stood there, hip cocked to the side, hair tossed over one shoulder. The young fighter looked cocky, staring up at the ring. She looked Carmen up and down, hoping the veteran was squirming under her words. Soledad hadn't won the title, that night, but she'd come close enough. Close enough that it seemed she'd gotten under Carmen's skin. Or at least, that's what she was hoping.

There seemed to be a moment of silence, then, that Sola hoped would mean she had the celebrated fighter on the hook. She could feel the anger radiating off the champion. That desire Carmen had to get this thing rolling. It fed Sola's ego. She'd managed to find her mark, she felt, got under Carmen's skin.

"Yeah, yeah," Sola said, eye-rolling Carmen so hard she turned her entire head, as the champion started her rebuttal. "I'm the one with excuses ..." What came after that, however, was entirely different. And caught Sola completely off-guard.

Soledad's jaw dropped, the moment Carmen said the word "apuestas." In Soledad's mind, Carmen had hit the big leagues, and didn't pay any attention to the comparatively shallow waters of the Puerto Rican wrestling scene. Particularly not to one little match with some fiesty rookie, wagering her hair against some bastard luchador ... and losing.

Self-consciously, Soledad's hand crept up to her lock locks, the half not braided tightly against her scalp. "I- how ...?" Not knowing what else to say, Soledad trailed off. Sola's eyes darted from one side of the arena to the other.

Shifting side to side, Soledad's ears were filled with the reactions of the crowd. There were fans jeering her, fans confused ... and others, who actually still seemed to be supporting her! Still, none of that drowned out the echo of what Carmen had just laid on her.

With a sudden movement, Sola released her long black hair, and ran her hands down her curvy figure. If there were some fans still in her corner, she had to keep them there. She hated to admit it, but their support was needed, right now. She only hoped none of them noticed the bright red flush in her face, which ran nearly down the length of her neck to her upper chest. She needed some kind of rebuttal. Or redirection. Anything to have a comeback, and not be left stuttering. Soledad took a moment, and dug deep.

"Well, Carmen," Sola said, biting her lip, "I'm surprised you heard about that. You know, it being way back home, after you left for the big leagues, and all. Tell me, when you went and looked me up on the Google, there, did you have to do another search to remember what 'apuestas' meant? I don't know if they do those up here, in the fancy big leagues!"

After two years in the AFW, Carmen had gotten most of her wrestling game down. She’d expanded her moveset, gotten an outfit that better suited the ring and her style, competed in a variety of different matchups, met and trained with wrestlers in numerous styles.

But the talking was something that she’d never gotten that much into. This was only her third promo, a rarity for someone who’d been at this long.

She wasn’t confident about her microphone skills. The Rodriguez smack-talking genes tended to run on the male side of the family, and she liked to just get her point across and leave. But when her words finally took some air out of the cocky Latina’s sails, she had to admit it: it was a good feeling. Soledad liked to throw junk people’s way, but apparently wasn’t too keen on it in her own yard.

”’The fancy big leagues’.” Now it was Carmen’s turn to eyeroll. Something she rarely indulged in. ’You mean the Olympics? And yes, Vega, they do have matches like that here, which you might have known if you bothered to learn about the promotion you signed up for.”

Didn’t get much reaction with that, but it made Carmen feel better. She was about done trading barbs with Soledad, anyway. It was time for the pitch.

”Here’s the deal - I’ll meet you any place you want. Name it. But on one condition: the loser have to have her hair shaved. All the way down to the fuzz, for as long as she’s wrestling in the AFW.” She pointed Soledad’s way, specifically to the asymetrical mop on top of her head. ”And this time, if you try to skip out, the whole world will know. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.”

Despite her best efforts, Soledad was still fuming. Legs twitching, slightly, Sola didn't know if she wanted to burn her anger pacing, or if she wanted to rush the ring right now, take that title belt and bring it right against Carmen's pleased little face.

Scowling, Soledad listened to everything Carmen had to say. She'd spit her words out with venom, but she could tell the champion was taking the insults in stride. Making the AFW newcomer's jaw tense as her frustrations and humiliations mounted. She felt exposed, not thinking for a moment that the mistakes of her past were going to follow her all the way here.

The continued insults were one thing, Carmen had done her damage, that way. It was the challenge that she laid out, that felt like a slap on the face. Finally, Sola broke from her cocky stance, pacing the ringside area. She shook her head, hard, before turning her face back to Carmen.

"You want me to meet you again, huh?" she said, jutting her chin forward defiantly. "And you want to try and take off my hair? That what you're telling me? What's to stop me from coming up to that ring, kicking your ass again, and just taking that belt home with me, tonight?

"But you know what?" Sola said, backing away, "You've got it. Because you seem to think you know so much about apuestas, because you think you want this fight? You've got it. You want to act all high and mighty, act like I don't know anything? Act like I'm stupid? We'll see who looks stupid, culo, when I get to take that razor to your damn hair, chica! You can see how it looks in the reflection on that shiny new championship, you'll be giving me!"

The crowd was a confused mess now, getting worse and worse the longer Carmen and Soledad spoke. It almost seemed like an even split at first, but then it started fluctuating, and it almost seemed like the people were just getting behind whatever they were saying at the moment. On top of that, a good few of them didn’t speak English. But then, the look on their faces and the tone of their voices was probably enough to break through the language barrier

At any rate, they were clearly going to get the fight they wanted, so they were happy. Carmen, however, was decidedly not.

She briefly considered just coming up the mat and starting this off, right here and now, but she knew better. ”What’s to stop you? Don’t play dumb, chica.” Carmen wagged a finger her way. ”Maybe I don’t know too much about apuestas, but I know you, Sola. I know your type. If we had this fight now, you’d use your glorified hentai match as a reason for losing. I’m not playing that game - I want you 100%. At your best. No excuses.”

Carmen raised her title high in the air, a prize she’d never let Sola get near so long as she could stand. ”Someday, somebody will beat me for this title. But it won’t be you, and it won’t be the next time we meet. You’ve got a lesson in humility that’s long overdue, and I’m more than happy to teach it to you.”

She lowered it back down as she huffed, trying to control her breathing and rage levels. Not an easy task, since Sola excelled at raising them.

Soledad scoffed. She then scoffed again, making certain that as many people in the crowd could see it, as possible. The crowd was in a state of disarray, with Sola unable to judge who they were getting behind. If anyone. The teenage street fighter cocked a hip out, put her chest forward and tossed her hair to one side. If nothing else, she was determined to come out looking better from this encounter, in at least one sense of the word.

Despite her posturing, however, it was taking everything she had to keep from completely blowing her top. Carmen had struck a nerve, and Sola's reddened face showed it. She scowled up at the ring, lip curled into a sneer the entire time her eyes ran up and down Carmen's body. Sizing her up, weighing her options. Carmen had a point, though. However one-sided, Sola had just expended some energy in a previous match. Taking on the 24/7 champ, right after? Not fighting smart. Sola rarely cared about fighting smart, but the fact that it was Carmen Rodriguez, of all people, gave her pause.

"Fine, chica," Sola said, after she'd waited a moment for the din of the crowd to start dying down, again. "We're gonna do it your way. I can kick your ass anywhere in this city, just as well as I can kick it right there, in that ring. I can hold off. Give the AFW a chance to promote this one, get the word out that Soledad Vega and Carmen Rodriguez are gonna throw down for the belt! Maybe even let the folks back home see how far you've come, and how far you're gonna fall!

"So, you just wait, polish my belt for me, and I'll let you know exactly where and when we are finally gonna do this thing. Don't worry, I know where to send the invitation," Sola said, lips curling into a wicked grin. "You just take care of getting yourself ready. Buy yourself a nice hat."