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La Envidia Mata RP
Topic Started: Mar 13 2010, 04:44 PM (41 Views)
The Corporation
sVo Icon
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One can only imagine the amount of paperwork that gets stacked on Manuel A. Diaria's desk. Each manila folder contains a crucial matter that will determine the success or failure of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. It's not hard to imagine one clear starry night Manuel A. Diaria sitting with his reading glasses on, shuffling through folders at his desk in his 21st floor office with a big glass window for a fourth wall. How wonderful to have a window that people can see him through, we are all sure he thinks. It is thoughts like this that make us all wonder how big of a window Asesino is permitted to have.

But Manuel reads diligently, closely scouring all of the intricate details, devising plans of attack. And as the years have progressed, as this man has become more and more prominent as one of professional wrestling's most respected owners, the paperwork continues to grow. Suddenly, the folders are no longer manila. All of the paperwork is stacked and color coded based on priority. It was one of the final efforts made by the almost forgotten Mindy, no doubt. And how well the system seemed to work, for Manuel that is.

Down at the bottom of the red pile, oppressed by the mound of other priorities, was the wonderfully flawed attempt at an Xtreme Wrestling Federation wellness policy. This policy was not generated by the wrestling mastermind of Manuel A. Diaria, for when asked of the health of his wrestlers some months before the policy was presented, a spy peaking through a peephole overheard Manuel say 'the hell with them.' Manuel would take no credit or responsibility for the policy, believing deep down in his narrow heart that everyone, including those that were thought to be safe, could be replaced.

Had there been a dagger amongst the papers on the desk, and had he known that Manuel secretly plotted a plan B in case the God of Wrestling could no longer fulfill his obligations to The Corporation, La Envidia Mata surely would have swiped the dagger and gleefully stabbed it through Manuel's heart.

Or at least tried.

For you see, the task of stabbing Manuel through the heart would be difficult for anyone. Not only is his breast impenetrable by years of indifference, underneath his ribs lies a careful and calculated labyrinth that leads to the center of his being. And at the center of Manuel's being is another labyrinth, this one even more complex and stretching much wider and farther than the previous. Only the privileged few can reach the end, and even then, a carefully guarded fortress with intricate traps and complicated hallways awaits. So it is maddening and all too complicated for someone wishing to calculate a swift vengeance.

La Envidia Mata knew this was true, and decided that if he were ever to find it necessary to exact revenge on Manuel A. Diaria, he would not waste time with a dagger to the heart. Rather, he would find the nearest pistol and blow his brains out.

Such was the raw anger that was incited in the God of Wrestling as he sat in the back of the limousine.

“Where is the World Title?” La Envidia Mata asks, his face hidden behind his stringy hair, a peculiar shade of gloom that radiated inward.

“It is safe.” David Mata replies, pretending to read through his clipboard of priorities, believing in the dull pangs of his stomach that the upcoming Showdown would be his last.

La Envidia Mata leaned his head against the back of the cold leather seat. La Envidia Mata was sure that after consulting with Chris Wrestling, Mr. Diaria ordered a “random” drug test that would confirm the God of Wrestling, whom everyone had expected was altering his reality for quite some time, was in fact abusing drugs. So it was clear that the company would spare no expense, even in the light of recent economic uncertainty for XWF, to test the God of Wrestling and ensure it's complete accuracy of results.

The investors were so hell bent on accuracy that they ordered this particular test to be comprehensive and include urine, blood, and hair samples.

No matter how brilliant David Mata's reasoning was, La Envidia Mata would not stand for taking any sort of detox pills or fix-a-test shampoos.

“You'll lose the World Title Tournament in SVO if they hear that you failed the test!” David Mata had pleaded.

La Envidia Mata held David by the throat, foaming at the mouth, seething with anger, and David Mata knew that no opportunity existed to alleviate the slightest possibility that La Envidia Mata was using illegal substances.

So the limousine's course was mapped, headed straight for the red “X” that would seal La Envidia Mata's fate forever. David Mata was helpless, and had come to terms with his fate. La Envidia Mata was helpless too, but for other reasons.

La Envidia Mata is on the verge of experiencing a “what have I become” moment, when the limousine suddenly shakes violently, and throws him to the floor. David Mata's clipboard flies from his hands, and a storm of papers rains down, as if to say that bureaucracy was burying the both of them.

La Envidia Mata pushes off the floor, only to experience another violent shake, and the disturbance presses La Envidia Mata down on his belly. A great stillness surrounds the two men as they lye on the floor of the limousine. Only the sound of papers crashing to the floor can be heard. And once the last paper drops to the floor, La Envidia Mata carefully raises his head. A loud honk penetrates the air from the car behind them, stretched out as if to scream “Damn!”

Suddenly, the black screen begins to roll down, churning and crunching as it does. A black hand pushes it all the way down. The limousine driver, an elderly black man, looks back with blood gushing from his nose. “Are you two alright?”

La Envidia Mata gets up to his knees, then stands, hunched over. He immediately rushes over to the driver and grabs him by his suit jacket.

“What the hell just happened!?”

“I don't know. Someone hit us from behind!”

La Envidia Mata lets go of the driver's suit and walks back to the door. He opens it, and steps outside. There, surveying the damage of his broken down, paint chipped, half snow covered white Lebaron 94 is a rather pasty albino-looking 22 year old male wearing a semi-sophisticated blue plaid overshirt and jeans.

“I'm so sorry.” The man says, placing his head on his hands, thinking that the damage to his car was the most of his problem.

“Sorry? You think you're sorry?” La Envidia Mata asks.

“Don't do it Envidia Mata.” David Mata says stepping out of the limo. “You know they're watching you.”

Watching him? The words ring deep into La Envidia Mata's skull as he turns back around to see David adjusting his suit jacket. La Envidia Mata charges his way over to David and pushes him up against the limo.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

David Mata gulps, then a sign of faux-strength, crafted by one of the finest actors of all time, shines through.

“You are La Envidia Mata, the God of Wrestling of SVO. And I am David Mata, the man that Manuel A. Diaria handpicked to watch over you. And right now, I am advising you to not take your anger out on that young man. And I'm also advising you to get your hands off of me, and not make a scene before that police officer over there arrests the both of us..”

La Envidia Mata leans in and looks at the reflection in the black tinted window of the limousine. Sure enough, one of Chicago's finest is striding his way over to the limousine. La Envidia Mata curls his upper lip, snarling. He turns around abruptly, eying the police officer in attack mode.

“Envidia Mata...” David says condescendingly under his breath, as if to call off a small child from drinking bath water.

“May I help you officer?” La Envidia Mata says, menacingly.

“Officer Mullaly. It seems like you've got yourself a problem here.”

“It was all my fault officer. I accidentally hit a patch of ice and slid into their limousine.” The young man confesses.

“And what is your name?”

“Matt Moxon, sir. This has never happened to me before.”

“I'm sure it hasn't” The officer replies, as he pulls out a notepad. “And may I have your name sir?” The officer turns towards La Envidia Mata.

“La Envidia Mata.”

“I'm sorry?”

“La Envidia Mata” he replies, agitated at the necessity to repeat himself.

“Can you spell that for me?”

La Envidia Mata turns back to David Mata, who steps up in front.

“Excuse me officer. My name is David Mata. This man is my client. He is a professional wrestler for the Sanctioned Violence Organization.”

“Oh yeah?” The officer replies, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“We were just on our way to an employer mandated drug test. So if it isn't any of your trouble, we would like to make this as quick as possible.”

“Sir. I understand that you two are probably busy men. But there is standard procedure we must go through in cases like this. If you cooperate with me, these things tend to go fairly quick. I suggest you two sit tight.”

The officer walks away from La Envidia Mata and David Mata, and begins taking the information from the young driver. David looks down at his watch, impatiently.

“Damn it. It's 4:45. We're going to be late. They won't accept late.”

La Envidia Mata rears his foot back and kicks the limousine as hard as he can, leaving a foot sized dent in the door.

David Mata, seeing the perfect opening, begins to rub the back of his neck.

“Ahhh... owe...” David says. La Envidia Mata looks on at David in bewilderment. “Come on Envidia Mata. Sell it.” David whispers. “Ahhh, owe my neck...” David moans loudly.

“My neck!” David groans again. “Oh God.” David drops down to his knees, moaning and groaning, and wincing in pain as he holds the back of his neck.

La Envidia Mata rears back and kicks David in the ribs as hard as he can.

“Ooomph!” David screams, then falls down on his side coughing.

“Get the hell up off the ground.” La Envidia Mata says. The officer overhears, and looks over to La Envidia Mata and David Mata. The officer begins to suspect something, and rushes over to David's aid.

“What happened?” The officer asks.

“I think something happened to his ribs.” La Envidia Mata says, pointing at the blood David is coughing out of his mouth in vicious globs.

“We're going to need an ambulance.” The officer says.

“Oh God! No! Is he hurt! Oh God! What have I done?” The young driver screams, placing his hands on his head, and screaming in hysterics.

“Sir. I need you to calm down.” The officer says, as he pulls out a radio from off his belt buckle.

“This is Officer Mullaly. I'm going to need an ambulance dispatched immediately.”

And as if the moment was not too surreal already, a bullet zooms past La Envidia Mata's head and blasts through the back window of the limousine, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Chaos ensues, screaming, running, and La Envidia Mata holds his hand up to his eyes, blocking the sun as he looks at a tall building in the direction from which the bullet came. There, perched half in and half out of the building, is a sniper with his gun pointed right at La Envidia Mata.

“Get down!” Officer Mullaly shouts.

La Envidia Mata turns about face and begins sprinting down the icy sidewalk. The sniper shoots another bullet, barely missing La Envidia Mata's left foot. La Envidia Mata manages to sidestep yet another bullet, as he dodges his way down another street, and out of the path of the sniper.

And La Envidia Mata kept running, not with the slightest care for the safety of David Mata or any of the other characters that had been cast for this most peculiar of times. He even tries to outrun the hand of change, that hand that seeks to turn him into something different than what he desires to be. And now, at this crucial moment, he sees David Mata for what he really is: baggage.

How could he have let this happen? How could he become subservient to an advisor and let Manuel A. Diaria place him with a man to make sure he's alright, and to guide him? Did not La Envidia Mata guide himself, destroying all that were in his path, converting others to nothingness?

But David Mata held La Envidia Mata back on Showdown last week, he would not permit him to attack and eliminate Billy Ransom as it should have been.

It was David Mata, he was sure, that had talked to Mr. Diaria and demanded La Envidia Mata to be tested because he knew La Envidia Mata would fail. It was David Mata who had been working with Xtreme Fusion. It was David Mata who had brought this ridiculous obsession of paperwork, policies, and envy of office space. It was David Mata that had planted the sniper in the window. It was David Mata who needed to be eliminated.

So La Envidia Mata stops running, and stares at the big glass building, the glass building where he will offer the pieces of himself to confirm or deny his continuing destruction upon the world of SVO.

Tobias Devereux, the question is, will he be destroyed at Showdown?
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