Congratulations, loser.

[ramirez]

-The footage begins in a dimly lit bar. The sound of "Country Boy Can Survive" by Hank Williams Junior can be heard in the background and is soon joined by the sound of billiards balls smacking together. To the right of the room are two rather large males, both with heavy beards and wearing full suits of leather, focusing on a billiards table between. The center of the room is spread with round wooden tables and chairs while to the left is the entrance, an unfinished wooden six panel door. The angle begins to widen to reveal a shot of a countertop that stretches across the view. Suddenly, the figure of Emilio Ramirez is seen. He is sitting on the other side of the counter, his elbows resting on the surface with his left hand clinging to a clear glass filled with a red liquid. His eyes focused into the center of his glass; an emotionless expression covering his face. The shot begins to zoom in on Ramirez, but is stopped by the sudden appearance of a hand on his shoulder. When the screen is readjusted the hand is seen to belong to one of the men in leather seen at the beginning of filming-

Biker: Hey buddy, you've been hanging around here for the past couple hours and to be honest with ya, I don't think I like your attitude.

-Ramirez glances over his left shoulder at the man with a stern glare-

Emilio Ramirez: What are you saying? You want me to leave?

Biker: I guess I'm sayin that I'm tired of seeing your sad clown face.

Emilio Ramirez: And?

-There is a sudden silence in conversation between the two men as the biker leans down closer to Ramirez' face-

Biker: And if you plan to stick around, you'd better shape up.

Emilio Ramirez: You gonna throw me out?

Biker: Yer damn right.

-The biker inches even closer to Emilio's face, this time with an increased look of intensity in his eyes-

Emilio Ramirez: I'll try to cheer up a little bit.

-The response from Emilio creates a look of confusion on the face of the biker and after a couple seconds of delay, he begins to nod in accomplishment before turning around and walking away. Suddenly, Emilio's attention is caught by the sound of an unrecognized voice-

Voice: That's a step in the right direction.

-Emilio immediately turns and the camera angle with him to reveal the figure of Paul Galvan, owner of the Gulf Coast Wrestling Alliance Training Academy. A smile crosses Ramirez' lips as he stands to his feet to share a handshake with the man-

Emilio Ramirez: How ya doin' Paul?

Paul Galvan: I'm good. How about yourself?

Emilio Ramirez: I've been better.

Paul Galvan: I've noticed. It's been a tough several weeks hasn't it?

Emilio Ramirez: You know it.

Paul Galvan: You have no idea how far you've made it.

Emilio Ramirez: What do you mean?

Paul Galvan: Well, for starters, I saw what just happened. A couple of years ago someone would have got their ass kicked. You wouldn't have thought about it. You would have nailed that guy. No questions. But things have changed.

Emilio Ramirez: Gee Paul. You basically just said that I've lost my edge. Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.

Paul Galvan: That's where you're wrong Emilio. You see, before you were a fighter, now, you're a wrestler.

-Galvan's thought is met with a look of contemplation from Ramirez before he responds with sarcasm-

Emilio Ramirez: Maybe. But definitely not a very good one.

Paul Galvan: Ah. You're not in the circuit anymore Emilio. You're in the big time. You're facing some of the best in the world.

Emilio Ramirez: Two losses in a row Paul. It's hard to accept.

Paul Galvan: And you won't.

Emilio Ramirez: Yea. I hope not.

Paul Galvan: Come on. I told the wife I wouldn't be back for a week or so.

Emilio Ramirez: Why?

Paul Galvan: Why? Triple Threat match Emilio. We've got some work to do.

-A grin covers the lips of Ramirez as he claps his hands together and slings his arm over the shoulder of Galvan. The two men exit the bar as the view fades to black-