North board, roleplay 21

Viewing a semi well populated suburban area from high above it is easy to confuse it with any other similar setting, as many houses as the landscape allows, swimming pools in half, if not just about every back yard, basketball hoops in the front driveway and a park, always a park, located right near the center of the small community. We’re not talking houses of over 20,000 square feet here, just nice, well to do people living their lives to the fullest extent they now how, enjoying the luxuries they can afford. From the left a black Ford SUV creeps slowly around a corner, this would normally be alarming in the Huntington Beach community, a black car with windows tinted almost opaque, driving suspiciously slowly down the street, but not in this particular neighborhood, not on this side of the tracks. It would be hard pressed to even find anyone home on a Tuesday afternoon other than perhaps an old couple or two enjoying their retired years in the comfort of their well earned abode, most young couples in this area are motivated business people or entrepreneurs looking to find their piece of the pie shortly after graduating from their respective colleges, and busy at work.

Back to the SUV, virtually climbing through the observably opaque windows we find ourselves sitting directly next to A.J. Trinidad, the DWO World Champion. His head is set on an invisible swivel as he slowly rotates his vision along his slow drive missing not one inch of the scenery. Strange a man who completely ignored the mountainous wonders of Colorado would be so taken with an everyday white collar middle class community, but he can’t seem to even muster up a wink, for missing a second would be extremely arduous to relive with the same fulfillment.

A.J. (thinking) – “ It’s been so long, so very long since I’ve even imagined the setting in which I was raised, let alone to be driving through it. Being here again brings back so many fond memories of my young years in California, so very different from my years spent in South America growing into a man. The park where my friends and I used to venture every summer afternoon to play football or basketball, the neighbor’s house we used to frequent for barbeques, the corner down the road from my house where we all used to knock around the kick bag after a long day of classes at Logan High School. Things were so very simple back then, responsibilities never rose above enjoying each day and being home in time for dinner, and then for curfew.”

Pulling up in front a particularly old house on the block, not run down old, but the style of the build would reflect a house assembled in the late 70’s, maybe perhaps re-sided once since, A.J. pulls his car to a halt, peering through his black sunglasses onto the property where he once called home. Just as he scans the house the front door opens and he notices a woman in a wheelchair, grown old terribly, she slowly makes her way down the ramp to the driveway, A.J. hadn’t noticed the ramp before but he watches on as she makes her way towards him. Parked on the opposite side of the street it is obvious that she doesn’t notice his presence as the decrepit old woman stops at the mail box, and removing it’s contents she turns back to the house and slowly climbs back up the wide concrete driveway. With possibly her only trip outside all day she retrieved the mail, that is obviously not A.J.’s mother, she loved the outdoors and last A.J. had heard she was doing very well. There’s no possible way the woman he knew as mom could have turned into that feeble shell of a person.

A.J. (thinking) – “ Mom must have sold the old house after dad passed away, that must be the only explanation, because that absolutely could not be her. Maybe she moved into a retirement community somewhere off the coast, or moved in with Aunt Sally up in Oregon, but that most certainly wasn’t her, was it? No……. impossible.”

Shifting his car back into gear A.J. slowly pulls away from his childhood home and heads off to Los Angeles, to the arena where the RPG 3 tournament was to be held.

- Four hours later, in front of the Arena –

Standing tall out from his now parked car A.J. Trinidad takes a moment to enjoy just why he has found himself in L.A., and with a deep breath, perhaps out of nervous energy, he begins his long walk towards the arena. People swarm madly around the outer realm of the arena, reporters and fans alike looking to catch a glimpse of their favorite wrestlers from numerous federations. Winding through cars and eventually moving into the madness A.J. finds his anonymity comforting, as he is left to walk alone, unnoticed through the small mass of people that is growing larger every minute. Only a couple days away from the opening matches and already the frenzy has taken the shape of an NBA or NHL playoff game.

A.J. (speaking to a man with a staff shirt on) – “ Excuse me sir? Could I bother you for a minute?”

Staffer – “ I’m kind of in a hurry here, make it quick.”

A.J. – “ I am involved in the RPG 3 tournament and I was wondering where the personnel entrance was located?”

Staffer – “ Riiiiiiiighttttttttttt…… I’m supposed to believe that you are in the tournament? You know how many times I’ve fielding that request today?”

A.J. – “ Look sir, if you have a roster of the matches scheduled please take a look. My name is A.J. Trinidad, here’s my RPG 3 ID, and I assure you I’m in the tournament.”

Staffer (flipping rapidly through his roster and information pamphlet) – “ Oh my god, I’m really sorry Mr. Trinidad, I guess I just didn’t recognize you. I’ve had every Tom, Dick, and Harry telling me every story you can imagine to try and get in to see the competitors, I hope you understand and accept my apology.”

A.J. – “ Yeah sure (looking to the staffers name tag) , Bob, no problem, just point me in the right direction please.”

Staffer Bob (motioning with his hand to the left, around back) – “ It’s right over there sir, just around back and have your ID card ready, they’ll check you there too.”

Thanking the man and making his way towards to door he was directed to he is stopped again, by the same staffer.

Staffer Bob – “ Mr. Trinidad, I’m sorry to bother you, but, my son’s a huge wrestling fan, and I was wondering…..well……do you think……you could a………”

A.J. (catching the hint) – “ Yeah, sure thing, no problem. What’s his name?”

Staffer Bob – “ Jonna, his name is Jonna.”

Scribbling down his autograph on a piece of paper torn from Bob’s pamphlet A.J. gestures goodbye and walks through the door to the competitors locker room area, stopping only to notice the ring crew working rapidly to assemble the squared circle where the event would be taking place. The men worked with practiced precision, efficiently putting together the ring piece by piece, and this is really the first time A.J. has noticed the butterflies in his stomach begin to flutter. Showing his ID one last time to a PR rep, he finds his way to the locker area where he notices only a couple of the other wrestlers making their way around, some speaking to friends and making friendly with the others they may not know, but the way they are looking to A.J. it is apparent they assume he is nothing but another staffer, possibly one who just lost his way.

Finding the locker room marked with his name, which was a little breath taking to say the least, he enters still unnoticed by the other competitors, and setting his bag down on the floor takes a seat with in the inner sanctum of this magnificent atmosphere.

A.J. (thinking) – “ So this is what it’s all about, the main eventers, the headliners and showstoppers all coming together for their chance at one-upping everyone else in the industry. It’s defiantly a huge bite to swallow, but my energy is more than I can remember it ever peaking at and the world of wrestling better be prepared for one hell of a show.”

Fading out A.J. lays back for a quick nap before possible introductions to the other wrestlers in his bracket, and just what secrets does the man named Karep hold, maybe the dream world will supply more answers.