(ARCHIVE) La Guerra Presents: Lucha POWER

La Guerra de Sangre Presents: Lucha POWER
Episode 2
“Doctor Dorado”
Orig. Air Date: June 18th 2019



“Hefe, this is like the fourth message I have sent you eh? Llamame. Por favor.”

Doctor Dorado was a nervous wreck. For weeks he had been asking El Macho for a match with ZDM rudo El Descosido. Weeks. But the recent developments of Lucha POWER had changed everything, and now suddenly he was looking at a three on one handicap match with all of ZDM. This was no bueno.

As Dorado paced the halls waiting for El Macho to call him back he overheard commotion coming from the locker room. As he turned the corner he could see a rowdy game of cards getting rowdier.

Ugh, Los Rudos Terribles. Actually… maybe that’s the answer…

Pantero Negro Jr. and Lobo Muerte. Cousins on their mother’s side, Pantero and Lobo suffered from an extreme love hate relationship. As kids Lobo looked up to Pantero, and Pantero in turn helped break Lobo into the wrestling business. Fiercely loyal to each other from outsiders, they’re competitiveness have often times pitted them against one another leading to the bloodiest of brawls. Over his long career Doctor Dorado had seen both ends of the Rudos Terribles relationship, and the breaking point was very often over a game of cards. As he cautiously approached the table he saw that the cousins had a third participant, none other than El Hijo De Choque.

“This fucking guy sits his fat ass down and doesn’t lose a fucking hand.” Lobo Muerte was steaming mad. Dorado openly wondered if his recent string of losses had something to do with his mood. “Hey El Culon, are you cheating? Mira. Are you cheating my cousin and I?”

“Answer mi primo fat man.” Pantero Negro Jr. was not a loud spoken man, but his words generally held violence behind them. El Hijo seemed unafraid to Dorado. That’s because he doesn’t know either of these men like I do.

“Amigos, lets calm down eh? This is not the proper way to make a first impression to our new roster eh?”

“Hola Dorado. This is not your concern.” Pantero’s eyes stayed fixed on the cards he was shuffling. “The fat man owes us money. Don’t you fat man?”

“I don’t owe you nada. Pleasure playing with you both.” At that El Hijo De Choque stood up, neatly stacked the bills in front of him and shoved the wad in his tights. As he turned to leave, Lobo Muerte shot out of his chair and blocked the way. Several painful seconds passed in silence as all three men began to get the look of each other.

“Amigos! Stop this now. We have more important things to discuss.” Both Lobo and Pantero looked at Dorado with curiosity. “Ahora por favor.” With that Lobo reluctantly stepped aside, as the large luchador made his way to the door. “Adios amigos. Buenas dias hehe…”

“Vete a la chingada. This isn’t over fat man” Lobo turned back to Dorado. “This better be good Dorado or you owe both of us money.”

“I need your help.” Dorado was almost whispering. With what had gone down, with the rumors of what Mr. Bonilla was capable of, Doctor Dorado wasn’t sure what was and wasn’t safe anymore.

“Why would we help you?” Lobo was still steaming, and with Hijo de Choque gone, Dorado seemed like a good alternative.

“Calmate primo. Let’s hear him out.” Lobo, reluctantly, quieted and waited for Dorado to speak.

“We’re getting railroaded. All of us. The show this week is stacked against Lucha Power- we need to do something to even the odds eh?”

“Ah Primo, it seems Senor Dorado would like our help in his match. Against those rudos ZDM.”

“Si. We need to stick together, all of us eh? If we let them pick us off one by one…”

“You don’t care about that. You just don’t want to get your ass kicked.” Lobo Muerte seemed unmoved and was visibly losing patience.

“My cousin brings up a good point. There seems to be very little estimulo.” Dorado could tell that the conversation was not going his way. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have competing rudos coming after him. Wait. That’s it…

“Fine. If you’re too scared to help me that’s fine. I suppose I’ll go find Nightmare Clown, he might be crazy enough…”

Without warning Pantero Negro stood up, grabbed the table and chucked it at the closed door that exits the locker room. The table crashed and splintered on impact. Lobo seemed to be smiling under his mask.

“Amigo. You are walking a very dangerous path right now.” Pantero’s voice stayed quite bit it was now salted with menace.

“Quite dangerous indeed.” The unfamiliar voice brought a pause to the tension in the room. All three men looked around in an attempt to find its source.

“Sigh. Ahem Senores.” Paco Pequeno, all three and a half feet of him, stood next to Pantero Negro, well dressed as was his custom, hands behind his back.

“Carajo! Who the fuck are you?” Lobo’s question seemed equal parts curiosity and annoyance.

“Me llamo Paco Pequeno. I speak for Senor Bonilla. And I can assure you, he will not appreciate seeing the two of you interfering in a scheduled match. Especially you Lobo Muerte. You have already earned a shot at La Mascara de Choque, let us not ruin that by defying orders. Si?”

Both Lobo and Pantero stood dumbfounded staring back at Paco. Dorado figured this might be the first time anyone had been brave enough to speak that directly to the two cousins in some time. Dorado braced for what he assumed was witness to the horrible beating of a tiny man.

Instead, both rudo’s broke the silence with laughter, immediately turning to leave the room. “You’re a funny man Senor Paco” called out Lobo on the way out. As they approached the exit, Lobo held open the door for Pantero, and turned back to Paco- “You tell Senor Burrito that Rudos Terribles do not take orders. If we want to help Doctor Dorado we will. If we want to watch him get destroyed, we will. And if we want to pick up his tiny assistant, throw him in our car, and leave him in the middle of the Mexican desert, Comeremos.”

“I will be sure to relay the message to Senor Bonilla senores.”

As Dorado stood there, taking in the exchange, he could feel his anxiety getting worse. As cordial and courteous as Paco Pequeno sounded, there was only thing the veteran lucha could think as the tiny messenger exited the locker room…

This cannot end well…

La Guerra de Sangre Presents: Lucha POWER
Episode 4
“Lobo Muerte”
Orig. Air Date: June 27th 2019


Esto no Bueno.

This was definitely a first. Growing up on the streets of Mexico City, Lobo Muerte had been known to run with a rough crowd and had been forced to deal with the consequences of that decision on more than one occasion. He had heard of people getting a bag thrown over their head and shoved in the trunk of a car, but this was his first encounter with the situation. He had decided at some point during the ride that he did not like it.

I knew there would be blow back from running out in that match. I knew the little man would be pissed. I just assumed I’d get fined, maybe fired. Now it seemed like the end game would be much worse. It didn’t help that right next to him in the trunk was a shovel and a roll of garbage bags. Mierda. I could have just stayed home today. I could have messed around downtown. I didn’t even have a match. I should have-

The car slowed down and came to a stop. Lobo couldn’t tell if he was relieved or terrified. Either way, at least I’ll find out what’s next. He could hear the muffled sounds of the passengers, car doors opening and closing, and a key working the trunk door.

“Hola Senor. We are here.” Lobo could hear the voice of Paco Pequeno and see the sunlight spill through the hood on his head. Instinctively he reached back to take a swing at the undersized La Guerra executive but the follow through met nothing but air. What came next felt like a tree trunk connecting with his head to make a sickening crunch that sent him all the way back to the bottom of the trunk.

“Are we done?” Lobo only managed a small moan in response. Paco’s tree trunk lifted Lobo out of the car and dragged him what felt like twenty feet before throwing him on the ground. Still trying to get his wits about him, Lobo managed to get to his knees before the bag was removed from his head. He’s wished the bag had stayed on.

Images were blurry as his eyes adjusted to the increase of light, but one thing was crystal clear, Dungeon Dominguez was standing over Lobo with a gun pointed at his head.

“This is not how I would prefer to do business Senor. I would much prefer to relay my orders to you and your colleagues, and they would in turn follow those orders. This would appear to me a simple plan. But I seem to be meeting a certain level of resistance. And I assure you, Senor Bonilla does not appreciate resistance.”

“Si, si.” As his eyesight returned, Lobo looked around for potential escape options, but it was slim pickings. They were in the middle of the Mexican desert. He could get up and run, but even if he avoided getting shot- where was he running to? He estimated he was at least an hour out of town based on the car trip.

“Lobo Muerte. What an odd name to give yourself. Is there honor in a dead wolf I wonder? Perhaps we should find out?” A short nod from Paco and Dungeon cocked the gun.

“Ok ok ok. Mira. We can work this out. There has to be something.”

“No Senor. Senor Bonilla does not work things out. Anyhow you seem past charity. Actions have consequences amigo.” With that Paco gave another nod to Dungeon who turned and pulled the trigger.


click


Lobo, who had closed his eyes and said a silent prayer slowly opened one eye, then the other. The gun was still pointing at him.


click


The smallest of smiles creeped onto Dungeon’s face. Underneath his lucha mask, Lobo fumed.

“You are a potential La Guerra champion Lobo Muerte- you earned that chance when you beat Sal De Roca. But you do not act like a champion. That must change. We hope you reflect on that during your journey.”

Journey?

Paco and Dungeon turned and walked back to the car, Dungeon opening the passenger side door for Paco before getting into the driver’s side and starting the engine. Lobo tentatively followed, and as he approached the car Paco rolled down the window.

“Consider this your only ‘lesson’. Cross Senor Bonilla again in any way, and your punishment will have bullets in the chamber.” Paco reached out and handed Lobo a gallon jug of water. “I suggest you move quickly, once the sun sets there are more than one danger in these parts. Plus, you have a championship match to get to, and I would not suggest being late. Adios Senor, and buena suerte.”

With that the car peeled off down the road. Lobo stood and watched as the dust trail slowly faded away till he was all alone.

Mierda.

La Guerra de Sangre Presents: Lucha POWER
Episode 6
“Warriorversary”
Orig. Air Date: July 29th 2019


Sitting in Tank McDaniel’s office, it was hard not to stare at the walls. Tank was obviously the sentimental type, the walls covered in pro wrestling history. There was a framed picture of Tank’s first championship over Baron von Baron back in the Texas territories. There was a picture of him and his brother, Gorilla McDaniel, wrestling in a tag match for now defunct World Federation of Wrestling. There was Tank’s framed lucha mask the first time he appeared in Lucha POWER. Countless pictures of stars from all over the world, covering all kinds of promotions both past and present. It was a painful reminder to El Macho of all he had lost.

“You looked 20 years younger out there Hector.” Tank was one of the only people in the business that referred to El Macho by his non-lucha name.

“Si. El Macho felt like a man made of steel tonight. It was a glorious match against strong opponents.” Both men were still in their wrestling gear, stained with blood from their physical match. The show had ended hours ago but the two old war horses had continued their tradition of sharing a bottle of tequila anytime they had a match together. El Macho got up from his chair and poured the remains of the bottle into two glasses, handing one over to Tank. The return decent to his chair reminded Macho that he was not in fact made of steel. As the adrenaline continued to wear off, the realities of his age were starting to creep back in.

In the corner, a TV that had been broadcasting Warriorversary played an ad for the upcoming La Guerra show, announcing the main event of Cicatrices vs Lucha POWER’s own Lobo Muerte. Sensing the awkwardness, Tank grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

“Think Lobo has a chance in that one?”

“Si. Lobo is a future champion. But maybe he is not ready for Cicatrices, who is in his prime. It will be an excellent match. I will be pulling for Lobo Muerte…” Macho’s mind trailed off to his last moments in Lucha POWER, which unceremoniously ended with a chair shot to the head. But as he recalled the memory, it wasn’t Dungeon he saw swinging, but rather Sal de Roca, his former friend.

“So what’s the plan now Hector? You gonna go back to Mexico? You know you’re more than welcome to stick around here in San Jose. Warrior Pro could always use more guys like you. We’re filled with young kids who think they know how it is, would be good to have a few more guys from the old days to keep them in line.”

Macho took a long sip from his glass and contemplated the offer. The reality was, he hadn’t thought about his next move. A trip to California to clear his head turned into a match offer from Tank. He was enjoying being around a wrestling promotion that didn’t have gun toting maniacs walking around at all times (though he had noted to steer clear of that Machine Gun fella). But he had unfinished business in Mexico, and at some point staying in the states felt like running away.

“El Macho appreciates your offer amigo. You have been a good friend for many years. We have done good business together. But I cannot stay here. El Macho is needed in Mexico. My dream, since as long as I remember, was to own my own promotion. To run my own shows, my way. That cabron, Bonilla, has stolen that from El Macho. That bendejo, Sal, has taken that from me. I must return to take back what is mine.”

Tank sat in silence for a minute, seemingly taking in what El Macho had to say. “If you need help Hector, you don’t even need to ask. I owe a large part of what I have today to you. Whatever it is- money, muscle, ugh bourbon. Damn I never could get use to this stuff.” He eyeballed his glass with curious contempt. “I’m hear to help.”

“Gracias amigo. But no, I cannot ask you for this. El Macho must figure this out for himself. El Macho stood up and finished his glass before slowly making his way to the door, his joints now annoyingly stiff. “Now I must leave you, I have a cold shower and a warm bed to get to.”

“Hector. You don’t have to go to war by yourself. Remember you got people on your side.”

“I know. Gracias. We shall speak soon.”

As he closed the door behind him, Tanks parting works stuck in his head. Instinctively he reached for his phone. Texts from countless former employees were present, most sending congrats on his match. Macho scrolled through, smiling. Then he navigated to his phonebook and paused, suddenly second guessing his next move. Maldita he whispered to himself before placing a call. It took a few rings before the person on the other side of the phone picked up.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Senor Harley. We need to speak.”

La Guerra de Sangre Presents: Lucha POWER
Episode 8
“Rumors”
Orig. Air Date: August 20th 2019



Fuck its quiet.

Lobo Muerte sat in front of his locker reflecting on the past couple of weeks and noticed that the Lucha POWER section of the locker room was remarkably empty. It had only been a couple months ago that his cousin and him were playing cards, joking with the entire roster, and actively wondering what the merger of two of the oldest lucha companies in Mexico would mean. And now? El Macho, Viper Lopez, and his cousin- Pantero Negro- were all fired. Hexagon was never around. Doctor Dorado was laying low after interfering in Lobo’s match. Fearing retribution from Bonilla probably thought Lobo. Even Dungeon Dominguez was absent, off with that snake Paco Pequeno looking into David Harley rumors.

Lobo’s eyes moved to his gym bag, where the handle of a gun sat partially exposed. His mind wandered back to that afternoon in the desert with Paco and Dungeon, then to last week when again Paco pointed a gun at him. There will not be a third time, that’s for sure, he thought. Lobo was fully intent on killing the next man to point a gun in his face.

“Senior Lobo! Que pasa amigo!”

“Fuck off Sal.” Sal de Roca was a lumbering lucha, and the fact that he had entered the room without Lobo noticing startled him. But he wasn’t in the mood for whatever Sal wanted, which was likely a favor or an order from Bonilla. Besides being a grade A bootlicker, Sal’s double cross of El Macho was the reason Lucha POWER was in this dump, and why Lobo needed to carry around a gun in the first place.

“Ahh come on, don’t be like that. You know, that took some cojones walking into El Hefe’s office and demand a rematch. For El Masque too! You’re a real tough guy now aren’t you? Say, where’s that primo of yours?”

“None of your fucking business culon. You need something, spit it out or vete al carajo. I don’t have time for this.” Something was wrong, Lobo could tell. Despite the tough talk Sal seemed agitated. He kept surveying the room like he expected to find something- or someone- in the shadows of the locker room.

“Ok ok, sheesh. You Lucha POWER guys are all dicks, no wonder you all keep getting shit canned.” Lobo let the insult slide, but he was about four seconds away from finding out if he could flatten Sal with one punch. “I assume you’ve heard the David Harley rumors?”

“Sure. Though they’re just rumors. And even if they weren’t, who cares?”

“Senor Bonilla. Senor Bonilla always cares. Let’s just say he doesn’t have a taste for competition.”

“Get to the motherfucking point Sal. Harley is not some Chupacabra or something, and I’m the last person to know where that gringo is.”

“Have you heard from El Macho?” Bingo. Sal didn’t give two shits about David Harley. But Macho.. well he was a man that Sal stole his company out from under, then sold it off to a drug lord. That man might have some beef to settle. And while the rumors of Harley maybe or maybe not being back in the country were interesting gossip, the rumor Lobo found more intriguing was that of his former boss.

“Directly? No. But Dorado and him have always been tight, I hear they still talk.”

“Doctor Dorado has been MIA.”

“I would be too, given Paco and Bonilla’s…er… management style for those that interfere in matches.” Sal glared at Lobo, trying to decide if he believed Lobo or not. Eventually, Sal started to move to the door before stopping. “Do you know if Macho is in Mexico?”

“Sorry amigo, I couldn’t tell you either way. But I did work up in California a few months back and still keep in touch with a few guys. As far as I know, no one’s seen him since the PPV last month.” Sal gave a reluctant nod and continued to walk towards the door. Before he reached the threshold, he seemed to shake off the nerves and smile.

“Well if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll steer clear of here.”

“Sal. If El Macho ever ends up in the same room as you, he’ll fucking kill you.”

La Guerra de Sangre Presents: Lucha POWER
Episode 10
“Finale Part One”
Orig. Air Date: October 31st 2019




“Where the fuck is Paco?”

The question wasn’t meant to be rhetorical, seeing as it was being posed to Dungeon Dominguez it might as well have been. The stoic Lucha POWER champion’s dead eyes stared back at Adalberto Bonilla without any hint of an answer to the question.

“Forget it.” Bonilla had bigger worries than where his top lieutenant had run off to, but the question lingered. Paco was sent off to find David Harley and El Macho- and yet the two former owners showed up in his show and forced him into a match that could ruin everything. Everything. Seriously- where the fuck is he?

He decided it was best to concentrate on the event. Tonight was the first of a two-night event: Sangremania. Held at the famous Hotel de la Lucha, Bonilla had been planning this event for months. A coronation of sorts as the “King of Lucha”. Paco or no Paco, he was going to take every precaution that the night would be flawless- and that meant Sal de Roca beating the crap out of El Macho and softening him up for their 6 man match the following night.

“Dungeon- go find me Sal, I need a word with him before his match.”


Los Gringos vs Hexagon Jr and Diego Guererro


Quick Results:




Bonilla stared blankly at the television in his office as it showed the ending to the opening match, half paying attention to the result. In the back of his mind he had his match for Night Two running over and over in his head. The fact that it was distracting him from enjoying the show made him angry. And his anger boiled over as he thought more and more about how this show’s card came to be. I didn’t even book these putos, fucking Macho did. Because everyone around me are traitors and idiots.

“You’re the traitor.”

“What?” Bonilla looked up to see a tall lanky gringo with a beard standing at the entrance to his office. “Who the FUCK are you? And what did you call me?”

“What? Me? I didn’t say a word. But I’ve been knocking at the door for ten minutes. My name is Left McDaniel, my uncle runs Warrior Pro Wrestling out in California. I spoke to you on the phone earlier this week?”

“Si, si. Come in, sit. How can I help you Senor McDaniel? Is your uncle interested in cross promoting?”

“Not exactly. See I came here because-“

“You fat fuck”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME??” Bonilla was on his feet, gun drawn right at the head of the startled gringo. “HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT.”

“WOAH!! Wait a minute!!! Say what?? What the fuck is wrong with you??”

“Idiot.”

“WHAT??” Was he going crazy? Unless this Lefty American was a ventriloquist, he definitely didn’t say just that. But if not him, then who? They were the only two people in the room.

“What the fuck is going-“ Bonilla cocked the gun and put a finger to his lips. In silence both men waited.

“Heh heh, fat idiot.” Bonilla whirled his gun around. The voice… it seemed to be almost coming from inside his desk. Which was obviously impossible..

“Who fucking said that??”

“Said what??”

“You didn’t just hear that? The mierdo that called me a fat idiot?”

“No. Dude its just me and you in the room.” Lefty McDaniel slowly got up, palms facing out in an attempt not to further agitate Bonilla. “Listen- this was a courtesy visit. As a part of the original purchase of Lucha POWER, one of the things not included in the deal was Arena Antiguo, presumably because it was a shit hole and El Macho didn’t own it outright. That has changed. Tank is investing with Macho in the arena.”

“Senor- you came all the way out here just to tell me that?”

“No. That’s not the only reason. Good luck with the show.” Quickly, Lefty proceeded to exit the office, leaving whatever extra motivations the nephew of a now arch rival promoter had, a mystery. There are too many mystery’s going on right now, Bonilla thought.

“You’re too dumb to figure them out.”

Bonilla stood in horror. There was no mistaking it, the sound was definitely coming from the desk. More specifically, the locked drawer where La Mascara de Choque sat idle. Unknowingly dropping the gun, Bonilla rushed out of his office toward the locker room. “SAL. Where the fuck are you?”



Doctor Dorado vs El Descosido


Quick Results:




As Bonilla made his way to the stage entrance he stopped in his tracks at what he saw. Both Doctor Dorado and El Descosido were… friendly. It made his blood boil.

“Hey, what is this? You LOST. La Guerra LOST. And now you stand here chatting with the enemy? Explain yourself.”

Descosido barely looked up. “It was a good match, a good end to a good rivalry.”

“Yeah, we finished it en el anillo. And besides, we are not the enemy, you are eh?”

“Cabrons! I should fire you right here and now!” Instinctually Bonilla reached for his gun before realizing it wasn’t with him.

“You cannot fire them Senor! You must know that by now. That was part of our…deal.” At first Bonilla didn’t move, staring at both Descosido and Dorado to see if the voice was also in their heads. They seemed to pay no attention to Bonilla or the voice, walking off, Dorado adding a chuckle as he passed by. From behind stepped El Macho, which both relieved and enraged Bonilla.

“El Macho.”

“Senor Bonilla! What a grand event this is turning out to be! The matches, the crowd. And on Dia de Muertos Tambien! Ahh, excellente no?”

“I’m going to take everything from you tomorrow Macho. Your company, your career, your entire existence will be mine by tomorrow night. And tonight? Tonight- Sal will take whatever is left of your pride. You are pathetic.”

“Ha ha! You are a man of big talk Senor. But El Macho is a man of big actions. Tonight, I will defeat Sal de Roca. Tomorrow I will defeat you. But now, I have another match to enjoy- adios…amigo”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At the edge of the entrance curtain, Pantero Negro Jr prepared for the signal that his match would start. For four months, he’d been tortured and attacked by the mysterious Nightmare Clown. Finally. Finally, he would get a chance to take out a measure of revenge. He could hardly contain his excitement.

“Primo.”

Pantero turned around to see his cousin, Lobo Muerte, standing beside him.

“Primo.” The two rudos had a complicated and long history. But on the eve of two of their most important matches, blood ran thicker than any potential personal grudge. Lobo put a hand on Pantero’s back, the signal was given, and Pantero started his walk to ringside…



Pantero Negro Jr vs “Happy” Nightmare Clown


Quick Results:




When he reached the back, Pantero and Lobo shared a short embrace, before locking eyes and giving each other a small nod. From across the room Bonilla watched this in curiosity, wondering what the rudos were up to. By the time he realized what, it was too late. Both men sprinted over to Dungeon Dominguez, who had been fetching Sal, and immediately attacked the big man. Chaos ensued, with the rest of the locker room separating the three men, but not before local police arrested all three men.

“What do you mean they won’t release Dungeon?”

“Perdon Senor, but these aren’t our guys. El Macho changed out la policia working the event.” The event staff member was practically peeing himself having to give the news to Bonilla. Normally he’d pistol whip the little shit, but he was running out of time. This first night had turned into a disaster….

Waiting in his office was Sal de Roca, in full ring gear and stretching for the main event.

“Where the fuck have you been Sal.”

“Getting ready for the match?” There was something in the answer that worried Bonilla. Sal wasn’t being completely up front. But Bonilla was also uncomfortable. The last place he wanted to be right now was his office. Something weird was definitely going on.

“I don’t need to stress how important it is that you win. We cannot go into Night Two with you having already lost to El Macho. Do you understand?”

“Yeah sure. But we still have Dungeon as a backup in case things go south right?”

“No. Dungeon has been arrested by policia that are not mine. You are on your own.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? You are not striking me with confidence Sal.” Out of the corner of his eye Bonilla spotted someone else in the room. Wait… that’s not… Choque? As he spun around the image vanished, leaving Bonilla halfway to a panic attack.

“Senor Bonilla?”

“Just fucking win Sal.” And with that Bonilla stormed out of the office.



El Macho vs Sal de Roca


Quick Results:



Because he had no where else to watch, Bonilla slipped back into his office to watch the main event, taking long pulls of tequila straight from the bottle the entire match. When the finish happened, Bonilla took the newly emptied bottle and hurled it at the TV, the set exploding on impact.

He was now alone and desperate. But that’s fine. Its not the first time his enemies underestimated him. Tomorrow was a new day. He would still be king. His eyes moved slowly back to the drawer in his desk…

“Idiot.”