Post by Ricky Sanchez on Aug 29, 2024 7:56:59 GMT -5
The kitchen of the Sanchez family home in East Los Angeles. Dawn is just breaking, and the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains. The kitchen is a simple, humble room filled with the warmth of family history a worn wooden table, faded photographs on the walls, and the faint smell of fresh coffee. Alejandro Sanchez, a stern middle-aged man with graying hair, sits at the kitchen table with his wife Rosa and his father, Don Hector, a stoic, elderly man with deep lines etched on his face. Rosa looks tired and anxious, her eyes swollen from crying. The air is thick with tension as they wait for Ricky's return.
The front door creaks open with a loud groan. Ricky Sanchez, 20, stumbles in, smelling of smoke and alcohol, his leather jacket draped haphazardly over one shoulder. His hair is a tangled mess, and his eyes are red from a night of heavy partying. A firm voice barely containing its anger.
Alejandro Sanchez: Ricky, dónde diablos has estado? It 's almost morning!
Smirking, leaning against the doorframe
Out.
Ricky Sanchez: What’s it to you?
His mother Rosa's Voice trembling, trying to stay calm.
Rosa Sanchez: Mijo, we’ve been waiting all night. You had a match today, an important match we arranged for you with one of your father’s old friends from Mexico. We did this to help you
Ricky interrupts.
Ricky Sanchez: To help me? Is that what you think? I'm tired of all this crap about ‘family’ and ‘honor.’ I never asked for this, never wanted it!
His grandfather speaks with a Stern, deep voice, almost a growl.
Don Hector Sanchez: Mira como hablas, niño. You dishonor us with every word you say. You’re throwing away everything, your heritage, your opportunity. You’re nothing but a disgrace!
Rick shouts back, his eyes blazing.
Ricky Sanchez: Disgrace? What about you, viejo? You’re stuck in the past, always talking about what you did, como si importara! No one cares about your old stories or your old friends! Wrestling has moved on, but you all just want to keep me trapped here, playing by your rules!
His father, furious with rage, Pounded his fist on the table, rising to his feet.
Alejandro Sanchez: Enough, Ricky! We have sacrificed everything for you! Everything! Your grandfather and I, we gave our lives to this sport, and you spit on it! On us!
Ricky just laughs with a little bitterness.
Ricky Sanchez: Oh, please, don’t act like you did it for me. You did it for yourselves! Because you love being the big men around here, the ones everyone respects. You love the way the people idolize you like god but not me! I see past all that and I don’t want your life! I’m going to do it my way, make a name for myself, sin ustedes!
His mother desperately stepped toward Ricky.
Rosa Sanchez: Please, Ricky, por favor, just listen. We only want what's best for you. Your father and abuelo, they’ve done so much to set this up for you, to help you succeed. Don’t throw it all away..
Ricky shakes his head as he snaps on them.
Ricky Sanchez: Why can’t you all get it? I don’t want your help! I don’t want any part of this family’s image! I don’t want to be your puppet, smiling for the crowd, making you proud. I want to live my life my way!
Don Hector: Estás ciego, niño. You don’t understand what you’re giving up. You’re turning your back on everything we’ve built, everything we’ve sacrificed for.
Ricky snarls his face up.
Ricky Sanchez: Sacrificed? You mean what you forced me to sacrifice! My childhood, my freedom, everything I ever wanted gone because you wanted me to be your perfect little wrestler! Well, I’m done being your puppet. I’m done with all of you!
Ricky turns, heading for the door, but Rosa moves quickly, grabbing his arm, her face stricken with desperationVoice-breaking, tears streaming down her face
Rosa Sanchez: Ricky, don’t do this! Don’t leave us like this. We love you. We want to help you.
Ricky jerks his arm back roughly, causing Rosa to stumble back and fall against the kitchen counter with a sharp cry. The room falls silent as her body hits the wood with a thud. His father Roared with fury, rushing toward Ricky.
Alejandro Sanchez: ¡MALDITO SEAS! How dare you lay a hand on your mother!
Alejandro slaps Ricky hard across the face. Ricky’s head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t flinch. He slowly turns back, a dark look in his eyes. Ricky responds Venomously, eyes filled with hatred as he locks on his father.
Ricky Sanchez: I’m done with all of you. This family is dead to me.
Ricky spits on the ground near his father's feet, the tension palpable in the air.
Ricky Sanchez: The next time I see any of you, it’ll be at your funerals.
He storms out, slamming the door so hard it rattles the frame. Rosa begins to sob uncontrollably, clutching her arm where she fell. Alejandro is frozen in place, breathing heavily, his face a mix of anger, heartbreak, and disbelief. Don Hector closes his eyes, a single tear running down his weathered cheek.
The sound of Ricky’s footsteps fades into the early morning as he walks away, leaving behind the only home he’s ever known, a family shattered by his rage and defiance.
A luxurious poolside party at a private villa in Los Angeles. The sun is shining brightly, reflecting off the shimmering water of the pool. The sound of music fills the air, and Ricky Sanchez is lounging on a deck chair, surrounded by a group of beautiful Latina women in swimsuits. A few are dancing, others are chatting and laughing, all enjoying the party. Ricky is wearing sunglasses, a gold chain, and his signature leather jacket, unzipped and hanging loose over his shoulders. A margarita is in his hand, and he has a confident, almost arrogant smirk on his face.
Ricky's phone rings. He glances at the screen, sees it's his agent, and puts the call on speaker for everyone to hear. Lifting the phone, grinning
Ricky Sanchez: Yo, what’s up, man? This better be good. I'm kinda busy here.
Agent: Ricky, I got news for you. Your debut match for WGWF… you’re facing off against Lightning. One half of ‘The Wrath of the Storm.’
The women around Ricky pause, curious to hear what he’ll say. Ricky chuckles and leans back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses. Confident, dismissive laugh.
Ricky Sanchez: Lightning, huh? Oh, you mean one of the guys who couldn’t even get on the Summer Madness card?
He laughs again, the women around him giggle.
Ricky Sanchez: So, let me get this straight I’m supposed to be worried about some dude who couldn’t win the number one contender's match four weeks ago on Smash?
He smirks as he looks back at the women and waits for his agent's response.
Agent: He’s not just anybody, Ricky. Lightning’s quick, experienced, and he’s got a lot to prove. You can’t take him lightly…
Ricky cut him off, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
Ricky Sanchez: Oh, I’m sorry, is his name Lightning or Lightweight? Because that’s what he sounds like to me.
Leans forward, addressing the women around him.
Ricky Snachez: Ladies, you hear that? They’re giving me some washed-up tag team guy who couldn’t even make it to the big show!
The women laugh and cheer Ricky on, a few of them clink their glasses together in celebration. Standing up, pacing a bit, still on the phone as he looks at the camera.
Ricky Sanchez: Lightning, let me tell you something, hermano. While you were out there playing in the rain, hoping for your big shot, I was making waves. And now, I’m stepping into WGWF to make it all about me. You? You’re just the first step, ese. The first notch on my belt. You have the honor to be the first one to take an L to the new sensation in the WGWF, you no longer have to wear the shame of being one half of a bottom-feeder tag team.
He looks around at the crowd, soaking in their admiration.
Ricky Sanchez: And Lightning… you know what happens to lightning when it hits the ground?
Pauses, smirking.
Ricky Sanchez: It fizzles out. Just like you’re gonna fizzle out the moment you step in that ring with me. You’re gonna wish you stayed in the storm, because the heat I’m bringing… it’s gonna burn you out, by cause you are about to learn that you can't handle the heat!
He takes a sip of his margarita, raising the glass to the camera.
Ricky Sanchez: So go ahead, Lightning, bring thunder, your storm, whatever you got. But come Smash, when the bell rings, it’s gonna be you lying flat on your back, looking up at the lights, wondering what the hell just hit you.
Ricky hands his phone to one of the women, who takes it while smiling at him admiringly. He steps closer to the camera, pulling off his sunglasses.
Ricky Sanchez: Welcome to the real show, Lightning. I’m Ricky Sanchez, and this…
Gesturing around him.
Ricky Sanchez: This is just the beginning and lucky for you that you get to be part of the rise of Slick Rick and I'm going to do whatever it takes to get to where I want to be because I wrote my own ticket a long time ago and bet on myself. There is nobody got me to fall back on like you do with Thunder and honestly how worried should I really be of someone that can't hang in the ring by himself. You're in a tag team because you are too weak to stand on your own two feet, always needing Thunder to help make you whole but even as a unit you aren't worth the money they're paying you. I know how much lack of faith this company has in you and Thunder because if they really saw you as top stars, you two would be in the WGWF World Tag-Team Titles #1 Contenders Match.
Ricky smirks a little.
Ricky Sanchez: Instead they gave you to me in my debut match, a stepping stone for me to go over and I will be successful and do this company a favor by taking out the trash.
He looks directly into the camera, grinning confidently.
Ricky Sanchrz: Get ready, WGWF. Because I’m coming, and I’m bringing the heat.
He gives a wink and then turns back to the women, who cheer as the camera fades out, capturing the lively, celebratory atmosphere of the pool party.
The front door creaks open with a loud groan. Ricky Sanchez, 20, stumbles in, smelling of smoke and alcohol, his leather jacket draped haphazardly over one shoulder. His hair is a tangled mess, and his eyes are red from a night of heavy partying. A firm voice barely containing its anger.
Alejandro Sanchez: Ricky, dónde diablos has estado? It 's almost morning!
Smirking, leaning against the doorframe
Out.
Ricky Sanchez: What’s it to you?
His mother Rosa's Voice trembling, trying to stay calm.
Rosa Sanchez: Mijo, we’ve been waiting all night. You had a match today, an important match we arranged for you with one of your father’s old friends from Mexico. We did this to help you
Ricky interrupts.
Ricky Sanchez: To help me? Is that what you think? I'm tired of all this crap about ‘family’ and ‘honor.’ I never asked for this, never wanted it!
His grandfather speaks with a Stern, deep voice, almost a growl.
Don Hector Sanchez: Mira como hablas, niño. You dishonor us with every word you say. You’re throwing away everything, your heritage, your opportunity. You’re nothing but a disgrace!
Rick shouts back, his eyes blazing.
Ricky Sanchez: Disgrace? What about you, viejo? You’re stuck in the past, always talking about what you did, como si importara! No one cares about your old stories or your old friends! Wrestling has moved on, but you all just want to keep me trapped here, playing by your rules!
His father, furious with rage, Pounded his fist on the table, rising to his feet.
Alejandro Sanchez: Enough, Ricky! We have sacrificed everything for you! Everything! Your grandfather and I, we gave our lives to this sport, and you spit on it! On us!
Ricky just laughs with a little bitterness.
Ricky Sanchez: Oh, please, don’t act like you did it for me. You did it for yourselves! Because you love being the big men around here, the ones everyone respects. You love the way the people idolize you like god but not me! I see past all that and I don’t want your life! I’m going to do it my way, make a name for myself, sin ustedes!
His mother desperately stepped toward Ricky.
Rosa Sanchez: Please, Ricky, por favor, just listen. We only want what's best for you. Your father and abuelo, they’ve done so much to set this up for you, to help you succeed. Don’t throw it all away..
Ricky shakes his head as he snaps on them.
Ricky Sanchez: Why can’t you all get it? I don’t want your help! I don’t want any part of this family’s image! I don’t want to be your puppet, smiling for the crowd, making you proud. I want to live my life my way!
Don Hector: Estás ciego, niño. You don’t understand what you’re giving up. You’re turning your back on everything we’ve built, everything we’ve sacrificed for.
Ricky snarls his face up.
Ricky Sanchez: Sacrificed? You mean what you forced me to sacrifice! My childhood, my freedom, everything I ever wanted gone because you wanted me to be your perfect little wrestler! Well, I’m done being your puppet. I’m done with all of you!
Ricky turns, heading for the door, but Rosa moves quickly, grabbing his arm, her face stricken with desperationVoice-breaking, tears streaming down her face
Rosa Sanchez: Ricky, don’t do this! Don’t leave us like this. We love you. We want to help you.
Ricky jerks his arm back roughly, causing Rosa to stumble back and fall against the kitchen counter with a sharp cry. The room falls silent as her body hits the wood with a thud. His father Roared with fury, rushing toward Ricky.
Alejandro Sanchez: ¡MALDITO SEAS! How dare you lay a hand on your mother!
Alejandro slaps Ricky hard across the face. Ricky’s head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t flinch. He slowly turns back, a dark look in his eyes. Ricky responds Venomously, eyes filled with hatred as he locks on his father.
Ricky Sanchez: I’m done with all of you. This family is dead to me.
Ricky spits on the ground near his father's feet, the tension palpable in the air.
Ricky Sanchez: The next time I see any of you, it’ll be at your funerals.
He storms out, slamming the door so hard it rattles the frame. Rosa begins to sob uncontrollably, clutching her arm where she fell. Alejandro is frozen in place, breathing heavily, his face a mix of anger, heartbreak, and disbelief. Don Hector closes his eyes, a single tear running down his weathered cheek.
The sound of Ricky’s footsteps fades into the early morning as he walks away, leaving behind the only home he’s ever known, a family shattered by his rage and defiance.
A luxurious poolside party at a private villa in Los Angeles. The sun is shining brightly, reflecting off the shimmering water of the pool. The sound of music fills the air, and Ricky Sanchez is lounging on a deck chair, surrounded by a group of beautiful Latina women in swimsuits. A few are dancing, others are chatting and laughing, all enjoying the party. Ricky is wearing sunglasses, a gold chain, and his signature leather jacket, unzipped and hanging loose over his shoulders. A margarita is in his hand, and he has a confident, almost arrogant smirk on his face.
Ricky's phone rings. He glances at the screen, sees it's his agent, and puts the call on speaker for everyone to hear. Lifting the phone, grinning
Ricky Sanchez: Yo, what’s up, man? This better be good. I'm kinda busy here.
Agent: Ricky, I got news for you. Your debut match for WGWF… you’re facing off against Lightning. One half of ‘The Wrath of the Storm.’
The women around Ricky pause, curious to hear what he’ll say. Ricky chuckles and leans back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses. Confident, dismissive laugh.
Ricky Sanchez: Lightning, huh? Oh, you mean one of the guys who couldn’t even get on the Summer Madness card?
He laughs again, the women around him giggle.
Ricky Sanchez: So, let me get this straight I’m supposed to be worried about some dude who couldn’t win the number one contender's match four weeks ago on Smash?
He smirks as he looks back at the women and waits for his agent's response.
Agent: He’s not just anybody, Ricky. Lightning’s quick, experienced, and he’s got a lot to prove. You can’t take him lightly…
Ricky cut him off, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
Ricky Sanchez: Oh, I’m sorry, is his name Lightning or Lightweight? Because that’s what he sounds like to me.
Leans forward, addressing the women around him.
Ricky Snachez: Ladies, you hear that? They’re giving me some washed-up tag team guy who couldn’t even make it to the big show!
The women laugh and cheer Ricky on, a few of them clink their glasses together in celebration. Standing up, pacing a bit, still on the phone as he looks at the camera.
Ricky Sanchez: Lightning, let me tell you something, hermano. While you were out there playing in the rain, hoping for your big shot, I was making waves. And now, I’m stepping into WGWF to make it all about me. You? You’re just the first step, ese. The first notch on my belt. You have the honor to be the first one to take an L to the new sensation in the WGWF, you no longer have to wear the shame of being one half of a bottom-feeder tag team.
He looks around at the crowd, soaking in their admiration.
Ricky Sanchez: And Lightning… you know what happens to lightning when it hits the ground?
Pauses, smirking.
Ricky Sanchez: It fizzles out. Just like you’re gonna fizzle out the moment you step in that ring with me. You’re gonna wish you stayed in the storm, because the heat I’m bringing… it’s gonna burn you out, by cause you are about to learn that you can't handle the heat!
He takes a sip of his margarita, raising the glass to the camera.
Ricky Sanchez: So go ahead, Lightning, bring thunder, your storm, whatever you got. But come Smash, when the bell rings, it’s gonna be you lying flat on your back, looking up at the lights, wondering what the hell just hit you.
Ricky hands his phone to one of the women, who takes it while smiling at him admiringly. He steps closer to the camera, pulling off his sunglasses.
Ricky Sanchez: Welcome to the real show, Lightning. I’m Ricky Sanchez, and this…
Gesturing around him.
Ricky Sanchez: This is just the beginning and lucky for you that you get to be part of the rise of Slick Rick and I'm going to do whatever it takes to get to where I want to be because I wrote my own ticket a long time ago and bet on myself. There is nobody got me to fall back on like you do with Thunder and honestly how worried should I really be of someone that can't hang in the ring by himself. You're in a tag team because you are too weak to stand on your own two feet, always needing Thunder to help make you whole but even as a unit you aren't worth the money they're paying you. I know how much lack of faith this company has in you and Thunder because if they really saw you as top stars, you two would be in the WGWF World Tag-Team Titles #1 Contenders Match.
Ricky smirks a little.
Ricky Sanchez: Instead they gave you to me in my debut match, a stepping stone for me to go over and I will be successful and do this company a favor by taking out the trash.
He looks directly into the camera, grinning confidently.
Ricky Sanchrz: Get ready, WGWF. Because I’m coming, and I’m bringing the heat.
He gives a wink and then turns back to the women, who cheer as the camera fades out, capturing the lively, celebratory atmosphere of the pool party.