To The Stars - 5. Easter (A)

Good Friday, March 30th

"I'm telling you, it's criminal, having us work on Good Friday," Rachel sighed, sitting patiently in the chair while Jeanette tugged and pulled at her hair, running a straightening iron through it. She was making her triumphant return back into relevance tonight, at the first quarter pay per view. She wanted to look her best. Everyone wanted to look their best for this show, even Diego, who was letting Gloria herself tease and spruce up his mop of short dark-brown curls on his head.

"You miss your family?" Pearl Nakata asked, sitting in the third of the three chairs on Rachel's other side. Her short, straight black hair was being teased and spiked by Jeanette to give her a menacing appearance. It was hard on the mellow beautician to do two at once, but the girls were patient.

"Of course!" Rachel replied emphatically. She didn't have her phone with her right now. She was actually making an effort to talk with everyone. "I miss my cousins! And my dogs, of course."

"Where do they all live?" Pearl asked.

"Oof, outback Alberta," Rachel replied coolly. She never seemed to enjoy talking about her childhood. She may as well have been raised by reptilians. Diego had never heard her speak fondly of her upbringing or parents, and he saw why the one time he went up to visit them with her. Cold and detached. It wasn't a secret where she learned that from. "It's lovely up there this time of year. I've been in the States for six years, but I'll always be a Canada girl."

"Will you be seeing your family for Easter, Gloria?" Pearl turned her attention to the tall, gothic looking girl behind Diego.

"No, love. Jewish. We'll be doing Passover later on this month," Gloria explained, running her fingers and nails gently through Diego's hair and scalp, giving him goosebumps. Her gentle touch felt amazing and he wondered if his leg would begin kicking the way the stray dog did when Diego used to pet him long ago in Fortaleza.

"Diego?" Pearl eventually asked the only male in the small group.

"No, I try to avoid visiting as a general rule," Diego replied coolly.

"Oh? Do your family live in Brazil?" She asked, uncomfortably shifting. Hinata Nakata always went by her stage name Pearl. She was a very heavy-set Japanese woman, unique in professional wrestling. Nearly all the female wrestlers were of two builds, either slim like Rachel or powerful like Gloria. Pearl was obese, and this niche set her apart from everyone else, as well as giving her a supportive fanbase all her own.

"Actually they live in Dayton," Rachel broke in, tattling on her boyfriend. "He just doesn't like visiting them."

"She's right," Diego laughed. "My family isn't like the Bradys. We don't get along. I went to Canada with Rachel once, but her family talks funny. Worse than Rachel does!"

"That's rude! Yours doesn't even speak English!" Rachel protested, kicking at Diego with her shoe.

"They do," Diego was giggling to himself now. "They just don't like to."

"What about the kids, Di?" Jeanette asked, her tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on ironed Rachel's locks. At the same time, Gloria was satisfied he was looking spunky enough and took a seat on the spare space on the bench. Diego looked in the mirror and raised his eyebrows. It wasn't so bad. His hair was too difficult to keep in line, so he usually just cut it short, but Gloria did a good job.

"Sometimes I spend it with Audrey and Nina unless they go down to Florida," Diego responded, turning away from his reflection. "Not the twins, though. Zoey likes to keep them for herself, which is fine by me, I suppose. I'm always working on Easter weekend anyway, and they'd only be backstage being pests."

"You don't take the kids to their grandparents?" Gloria asked, using a hand mirror to frown and tsk over the slightest hints of wrinkles starting to appear on her brown face. Nobody, even Gloria, seemed to know what her background was. She seemed to be of Middle Eastern heritage, but a pious Jewish family adopted her from infancy.

"Hell no!" Diego scoffed, and Rachel agreed with him. "They think all my kids are bastards born out of wedlock."

"Isn't that true, though?" Gloria teased him, and Diego snickered.

"Of course it is, but my family's very heavy on the conservative values. They don't want to know my kids, so I don't want to know them," he answered, summing it up with a nice bow on it. Pearl nodded sadly, and Diego felt bad for her. "How about you, Pearly? What plans do you have?"

"None!" She laughed, putting her frown away. "All my family lives in Japan, so I only see them once in a while or maybe they'll come to visit."

"What are you doing tonight, darl?" Rachel asked her, playing with the ends of her freshly straightened hair only to have Jeanette smack her hand. "Would you like to come and hang out in our room tonight? Just my favourites. Diego, Sean, Gloria and me, just having some fun, some drinks and probably some pizzas." Diego liked Pearl well enough, but he wished Rachel asked him first. Although he had grown closer to Gloria and Sean of late, it had taken him a while to get used to them being in his space. Pearl wasn't part of the group. He would have liked some notice to get used to the idea of her being there.

"Hmm, maybe," she said hesitantly. "Can I bring Lance? We were going to hang out later today."

"Lovecraft?" Diego's eyes widened in both horror and disbelief.

"If Lance feels comfortable, he is more than welcome to come as well," Gloria spoke for everyone without missing a beat.

Without giving us a chance to say no, Diego thought bitterly. Rachel looked to him, eyes open in disbelief. Some weeks ago, Lance said some very nasty things about the whole friendship group. Since the disciplinary meeting with Margaret though, support for the British born boy had begun to blossom. People apologised for leaping to such unfair conclusions about Lance's character, and Pearl was the first to officially befriend him. Once that happened, Gloria made her peace with him, and Jimmy decided the boy had proven himself. Nearly three months in Coventry was a long time, and Lance Lovecraft still did not quit. Nor, Diego thought privately, did he tell anyone that I broke our most sacred locker room code by knifing Sean's career to advance his own and turn the mob against the red-haired fellow. Maybe I was wrong about him.

"Are you sure?" Rachel frowned, and Gloria shrugged.

"I know I've been ready to bury the hatchet for weeks now. If you guys weren't such stubborn bitches, the locker room might be a better place," she explained with a sour look. She gave Diego an especially acidic glare, one that threatened to turn him to stone if he dared give her any attitude.

"You don't like Lance?" Pearl seemed surprised. "I thought you were best friends or something! At least, you look so natural together on camera."

"Erm well, not exactly," Diego felt uncomfortable. All four girls were now eyeing him off. He didn't know what to say. Was he supposed to lie and be diplomatic? Or was he supposed to tell the truth and be a jerk? Both options seemed to represent a one-way trip to the doghouse. He shrugged. "I'm alright. Invite him. I'll make it work somehow," he faked a charming smile as though he'd just stepped through the curtain. "It's Easter, right?" Hmph. It was an easy decision when he remembered that Lance would never willingly spend time in a place with him. Ever since the kid had cornered him and threatened him, the two only ever saw each other if they were about to walk into their segment. Their feeling was mutual. Loathing and contempt. Lance no longer had any intentions of trying to forge a positive relationship between them, and that suited Diego fine.

"Alright!" Pearl's smile was nothing short of adorable. "I'll run it by him when I see him next! Or you could?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Jeanette talked so sporadically that Diego kept forgetting she was a person and not just a prop. "If you have a poor relationship, Lance is only going to be suspicious. Can you blame him? Perhaps let Pearl or Gloria be the one to reach out if you want to extend the olive branch."

"Do it after the main event," Rachel suggested, bringing out her phone for the first time since they sat down together. It had been nice with her actively participating in a conversation. He'd started to miss her even when she was in the room with him. "He'll be on a high from the championship win."

"Oh Di, you must be so excited," Gloria reached across and squeezed his shoulders with her hands. "The King of the locker room in just a few hours!"

"Please don't! I've been nervous for weeks!" Diego beamed, before leaning on his hand. "I've been dreaming of being the one to beat Big Bad Jimmy Vause for months, and now it's finally happening. I don't know if I'm ready. It's not even effectively my push."

"Oh, you wrestlers overthink everything!" Jeanette scolded him. "All night I hear about nothing except management, pushes, the locker room, that bitch Margaret. I watch the show with my sons, and they think all of you are terrific, I'll have you know. They don't seem to care who is in the main event or who only makes a twenty-second appearance in a backstage segment; they just enjoy the show. You could learn a lot from my boys, I think. If Margaret, Jerry and Michelle didn't think you were ready for the main event, they wouldn't have pushed you there."

"That's a goddamn brilliant point there, Jean!" Gloria smacked her thigh. "Do your best. You do your job, the job you've been doing for nearly half your whole life! Jimmy will do his part and Lance will do his. The three of you will knock it out the park, I know it."

"It should be Sean," Diego mumbled, holding his hand to his head. "I can't believe he didn't even make the card at all."

"Sean's not your problem," Rachel reminded him. "Yeah, it sucks for him, but keep your head in the game, babe. He's happy for you. There's nothing you could do about it but make the most of the opportunity, yeah?"

Diego nodded, but he couldn't help but think so glumly about the situation. Months ago, he made a call to Marg and pleaded his case, asking to get in the main event in place of Sean. It didn't take long to convince her, because she was thirsty to have Lance Lovecraft on television as much as she could get away with. Having Lance act as a valet for the champion put dollar signs into her eyes, and she rang up Michelle and changed the plans to put Sean's rise to main event status on hold. It wasn't a bad plan, he thought at the time. Everyone would blame Lance - and they did. Now all he felt was remorse. Not only did he cause most of the drama backstage, but he also betrayed his new friend, and he pinned it on an innocent newbie - even if it was Lovecraft. He didn't deserve this push, but it was too late to back out.

~

Easter Sunday, April 4th 1994 - Rachel

"Hello munchkin," Del gently shook her awake. "Munchkin? It's wakey time. Come on! Let's not take all day, hmm?"

"Mmm?" Rachel purred and stretched in the comfort of her bed, groggily opening an eye to see her mother beaming down at her, sitting on the side of the bed. Del set down the mug and saucer on the bedside and ran her hand through the girl's long sun-coloured locks.

"It's nearly nine o'clock!" Del exclaimed, pointing her watch to Rachel's eyes and tapping it. "You're a sleepyhead, and do you know something about sleepyheads?"

"What?" Rachel pouted, covering her eyes with her arms. It was too bright in the room. Far too bright.

"The Easter Bunny thinks she doesn't want the eggs he's left for her, and he comes to take them to another little girl who can be bothered to get out of bed on time," Del winked at her, and Rachel gasped. Easter! She couldn't help sleeping in today, because she'd been up half the night being too excited to let the Sandman do his job.

"No!" Rachel protested, scooting up and grabbing at the mug, burning her mouth as she tried to guzzle the hot chocolate to show her enthusiasm for getting out of bed and keeping that pesky rabbit away from her eggs. She squealed and spat it back into the mug, and Del shook her head.

"They call it a hot chocolate for a good reason, little munchkin!" Del scolded her, putting her hand on the young girl's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yescanwegettheeggs?" Rachel spat through a mouth full of shooting pain. Del furrowed her brow and drew the girl into a warm hug, but Rachel wasn't interested in a hug. She wanted chocolate for breakfast - real chocolate, not that hot lava Del was trying to feed her. The girl slipped out and her feet touched the floor. She shoved her feet into her slippers, ignoring the protests of the older woman and flew out the door.

"Munchkin! Get back here, please!" Del shouted at her, following her to keep up. Rachel made it to the back door, but it wouldn't open. The damn thing was always locked. She grunted in frustration and turned around to Del, frowning at her. "I'm one step ahead of you," Del winked, then beckoned with her fingers. "If we're going out, you're going to be dressed. It's still a bit snowy out."

"Alright," Rachel sighed, letting the woman bring her back into the warmth of the kitchen. Warm in temperature, but it was so... cold in there. There wasn't a hint that anyone lived in there except for the fruit in the bowl - yet the grapes weren't even real. Everything was wax. Everything was white and pristine. Rachel hated the kitchen. Something about how empty it was just... creeped her out. Most of the house was the same way. The only place she felt safe and happy was in her bedroom.

"Arms," Del ordered, and Rachel slid her arms into her warm coat. "Hands," Rachel pulled on some red knitted gloves. Del made them herself for her little munchkin. "Legs." Rachel let Del help her on with her socks and her big, tall rainboots she'd gotten recently. She was big enough to do it all herself, but both girls weren't quite ready to let the tradition slide just yet. "Kiss?" Del asked, and Rachel happily kissed her on the cheek. Del giggled with joy and lifted the girl up. "You're getting big, munchkin. I'll have to start calling you Rachel one day."

"No, you won't!" Rachel told her as she was carried slowly to the back door. "I'm your munchkin."

"The biggest munchkin!" Del unbolted the top of the back door and stepped outside, Rachel on her hip. It wasn't too cold out, but Del was right. There was still remnants of snow on the grass and the pool looked like it wasn't going to be accessible for a little bit longer yet. The massive house looked positively beautiful in the morning sun. How did it look like a palace but feel like jail, Rachel thought sadly. "Now, the Easter Bunny told me this morning that he's left five eggs for you in this backyard," Del's eyes were shining as she explained the game she'd set up for her little girl. "If you can find all of them, I think I might have a little prize for you!"

Rachel scrambled to get out of her grips and hit the ground, sprawling onto her hands and face. Ignoring the cry of concern from Del, she got back to her feet and zipped from bush to bush, tearing across the vast backyard. She found three colossal chocolate eggs with ease. They hadn't been well hidden. The fourth took some time; the Easter Bunny had drawn some funny eyes and a mouth on the cream-coloured foil with what appeared to be Rachel's crayons and left it among the group of gnomes. Rachel and Del laughed together when she finally caught on. The fifth one needed Del's help - it was sitting in the wedge where one tree trunk split into two. Rachel didn't think to look that high.

"Can I have them now Mommy?" Rachel tried and failed to carry all five in her arms at once. Each one was nearly the size of her head.

"I think that's a bad idea!" Del was laughing near hysterically at seeing the youngster try to get all the eggs inside at once just in case that thieving bunny was going to come back and pinch them while she wasn't looking. "You can have one for breakfast, but only if...?"

"It's our little secret," Rachel beamed at her. She and Del had a lot of secrets that they shared. It was like having her own best friend, except Del was thirty years older than her. Rachel wasn't very good at shovelling chocolate into her mouth. It was all over her fingers, her coat and her face by the time she decided she'd overdone it and felt a little sick.

"What would you like to do today, little munchkin?" Del asked her, rinsing off the chocolate in the sink to prevent a stain. "Would you like to watch the wrestling again?"

"I wanna play with Donny," Rachel's grin was full of chocolate covered teeth. "Can we go and see Donny?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, darling," Del's smile faded.

"Who takes care of Donny while you're here, Mommy?" Rachel frowned, wondering all of a sudden why Del was always away from her little boy. Donny was a brat, but Rachel liked him well enough. It was so lonely in this big empty house, with only Del for company. She wanted to have fun with her brother.

"You need to stop calling me that, munchkin," Del reminded her, combing back a frizzy orange lock of hair that escaped her tight bun. "Donny is looked after by my Mommy."

"I wanna see Donny!" Rachel whined. "Please Del? He's my brother!"

"He's not your brother," Del said, gently but firmly. Still, she sighed. "Alright, I don't see why it could hurt. Let's go and see Donny and Grandma. There isn't any reason why we should be here all day, is there? I'm sure Mommy and Daddy will understand."

"I get to see Donny!" The words burst from Rachel like bullets from a machine gun. She was so excited. "Can I bring my eggs?"

"I think it's better if I keep the eggs at my house," Del told her with a smile, fondly tickling the girl's cheek as she walked past to start flicking lights off. "I'll make sure Donny and that bratty bunny don't steal them. Just remember, Mommy and Daddy don't need to know that munchkin got some eggs, okay?"

"You're my real Mommy, Del," Rachel followed her, nearly bouncing off the walls from a sugar-induced high. She was seeing her brother today! Maybe he wasn't her real brother, like Del wasn't really her Mommy, but they were the best she had.

~

Good Friday, March 30th

James Vause was a very intimidating fellow. Massive, thick arms, a muscular chest, thighs as round as little Sean's torso. He had creamy alabaster skin, a sprinkling of dark chest hair, a mane of chestnut brown hair and fierce blue eyes. He embodied what it meant to be a strong, imposing threat. Diego was one of the more muscular guys, but he had a softer appearance. He made a mean heel, but nothing close to the terrifying, ruthless giant Jimmy played on camera. In stark contrast, Lovecraft was by his side. He would never want to wrestle a match against Lance Lovecraft. Never in a hundred years. He was awful. Simply awful. Dangerous, even. As graceful and enchanting as he was when he danced or when he supported Diego from the ringside, everything fell apart for him when he was actively wrestling. Slow to react. Scared of taking bumps. Afraid to put his body on the line. He just wasn't meant for this kind of business. Jimmy knew it. Sean knew it. Diego certainly knew it. However, as bitter as Diego still felt about the British lad being by his side every week, he did have to admit the truth. When Lance was in his element, he knew exactly how to provoke and please the audience. He was a born entertainer. It's too bad that he was wasting his talents in the professional wrestling industry.

"Nice belt Jimmy," Diego teased the big man, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder and running his finger across the shiny golden Heavyweight Championship belt. Jimmy had been the champion for nearly eight months now, and it was going to be weird to see him without it. "I'm sure it'll look great on me."

"Better you than Fox, I suppose," Jimmy chuckled, unhooking the belt from his tree trunk waist and having another happy look at it. "I don't think the belt can buckle up tight enough not to fall off Sean's skinny hips."

"He's got a big ass, it'll sit," Diego quipped, and Jimmy laughed. Lance looked up and gave a smile of his own.

"Can I have a look?" Lance asked, meekly approaching the bigger lads. Jimmy looked up at him, the smile disappearing, but Diego supposed that compassion won out in the end and he nodded. Jimmy did not despise Lance anymore. He'd gotten over the terrible match - mostly, and formally let Lance out of the doghouse.

"If you promise me you'll spend every free minute of your life training at the performance center, you can touch it, kid," Jimmy said, passing it over to Lance, who flushed with joy and took the belt with a gasp.

"It's heavy!" Lance exclaimed with a grin, and Diego couldn't be sure, but it certainly looked like Lance was checking out his reflection in the shiny gold.

"Yeah, it's always a shock," Jimmy snickered, taking it back and hooking it back around his waist. "You get your act together Lovecraft, and you might even get a turn with it. Keep my boy Diego afloat out there, will you?"

"I always do," Lance shot a smile at the lads and locked his eyes on Diego. The contacts he were white today, like the rest of his outfit. They were a little spooky. It occurred to Diego that he had no idea what colour the boy's eyes were. He'd never seen him without contacts before.

"You know your jobs tonight?" Diego asked. He always wanted to make sure Lance knew the bullet points - things he had to do and when he had to do them. This time it wasn't personal. Lance was a newbie and ring psychology was something that could only be taught through experience. Even Sean was still perfecting things like timing and pacing. It was a big reason why Gloria was often working with the new girls - she was a twelve-year veteran and had a wealth of experience and knowledge to teach them. Perhaps Lance could get help from someone like that. Gloria could teach a puppy to knit, he was sure.

"I do," Lance nodded. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Good man," Jimmy nodded, before pointing up to the monitor. Rachel and Pearl had finished their savage beatdown of the Women's Champion Irina after Pearl failed to get the championship, setting up Rachel to become Irina's new rival. Good for her, Diego thought happily. Maybe being out of this depressing rut she'd been in at work would make her more emotionally and physically accessible to him.

"Hey, Diego?" Lance whispered, getting close to him. Diego looked across at him. He'd changed up his look for tonight, less showy and more classy. His red hair was brushed and neat, falling across his face. His eye makeup was subtle and he was wearing an elegant white waistcoat without a shirt and very tight white skinny jeans, strappy white stilettos on his feet. He'd become used to Lance wearing loud and very elaborate outfits. Tonight's outfit was... underwhelming. Diego almost found himself being disappointed. Lance appeared subdued today.

"What's up?" Diego asked coolly, keeping himself at arm's length.

"What happens if I mess everything up again?" He asked. Diego cocked his head in surprise. Where did that come from? Lance had never done anything but ooze confidence and charisma since the moment he got here.

"You'll be fine," Diego whispered back to him quietly so that Jimmy wouldn't overhear and lose the limited faith he had in the kid. "Don't panic. We've got your back, and so does the ref. Just do what you always do. It's kind of hard to make a lot of problems from your position." Hearing the commentators beginning to hype the important title match now coming up, Diego and Lance took their place in front of the curtain. They would be out first. The challenger usually was.

Diego didn't much like his music. He'd had it for a very long time, ever since he first debuted. Perhaps it was because the silence of the apathetic crowds in most cities he performed in made it sound so loud and insulting. Still, having Lance coming out to his theme with him in recent months had begun to pay off, slowly but surely. A cheer rippled through the audience, and Lance's fearful frown dissolved into a stunning, toothy smile as he strode through first, Diego close on his heels.

"Introducing first, from Tulsa, Oklahoma, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-six pounds, Diego Silva!" Why did Sherrie still announce him as a Tulsa native? He'd been living in Columbus for nearly seven years now, and he'd been born in Fortaleza. Lance suddenly went sprawling on the entrance ramp in front of him, and Diego's heart stopped in his chest. He'd strayed close to the crowd barricade to engage with them, and someone violently shoved him over. He looked to his right and there was a man, middle-aged, bearded and spewing some of the vilest homophobic trash that Diego had ever heard.

"What the hell?" Diego shouted, rushing over to Lance, who was wincing in pain. He was an athlete and he knew how to fall safely, but it never felt good when you hit the ground. Especially when some human trash was the one who pushed you.

"Are you alright?" Diego crouched down, and the members of the security team were already there. "Get this hick trash out of here!" He shouted, pointing a finger at the man who lay his hands on Lovecraft.

"Suck me, Mexican fudgepacker!" The man flipped him off.

"I'm Brazilian, you dumbass!" Diego snapped back at him, moving towards the man with the intention of teaching him a lesson, and the female member of the security team stood between them, blocking his view while the men confronted the racist homophobe.

"We're dealing with him," she said firmly. "Are you alright, Lovecraft?" Lance was back on his feet. He looked shaken.

"I... yeah," Lance stammered. By now the crowd had turned on the aggressor with a vengeance. They'd even begun a chant.

"Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!"

"You're okay to keep working the show?" The woman asked, and Diego remembered that he was a professional. The show did need to go on, and he could have seriously ended up in trouble had this woman not intervened.

"Yeah... I broke my shoe," Lance muttered sadly, putting weight on his left foot to show how wobbly the heel had become. Great. That's all we need.

"Get up there, get the show back on track. We'll deal with everything else," she instructed him and hopped the barricade to assist in removing the twat. Diego didn't see him again. He'd spit on him if he had the chance.

"Lose the shoes," Diego told him, before beckoning with his fingers. "Up an at 'em, Lovecraft. We still have a job to do."

Lance was a ballsy little brat. If Diego wasn't ready to admit his growing respect for the boy by now, the way he sprung back into action at Diego's instruction certainly did it. He put the assault behind him, smiled at the crowd, unbuckled his expensive white shoes and proceeded to finish their entrance together barefoot. Diego had no idea what that crazy fan was trying to do, but the crowd was so behind Lance right now, and Diego too for that matter. He didn't know whether the backstage crew had been instructed to keep the music and lights going for longer than usual, but they had been in the ring together soaking in the admiration from the Atlanta crowd.

Jimmy's music eventually hit, and the crowd erupted into some of the loudest boos that Diego had ever heard in his life. This whole attack might have been a blessing in disguise, he realised. It gave Lance a ton of sympathy, and Jimmy was going to have so much heat later on when he harassed and humiliated Lance as a way of getting under Diego's skin. The more heat Jimmy had, the better received Diego's eventual win would be. The cameras would likely miss it, the fans certainly did, but Jimmy gave Lance a private little wink as he climbed the steel steps. It was sweet of him.

Everyone will tell you how fake wrestling is. It's all acted, they say. Pretend. Hah. Diego would like to challenge any of them to go through the amount of punishment he did in the next thirty minutes. The chairs, tables and ladders were not props. More often than not, they were purchased at hardware stores around the town they were performing in. Jimmy was a savage and perhaps a little rougher than he needed to be, but every time Diego watched a replay of his match with Jimmy, it looked fantastic. It was worth the pain. He was hungry for it, and so was the big man. Extreme Rules was a scary match to work because no matter how safely the competitors worked through it, it was going to hurt. You were going to hit each other with things that, even if scripted, did not feel good. Yes, the show was scripted and acted out. That didn't mean it was fake. It was real to him. There was no way to dive off the top rope and land on the canvas of the ring without it hurting like a bitch, and Diego knew he would have welts on his back from the smacks with the kendo stick Jimmy gave him.

After a nasty chair shot to the face failed to secure Jimmy the victory, Lance hopped up on the ring apron to do his signature tactic - distract Diego's opponent by drawing the attention of the crowd onto himself with a provocative dance. It didn't matter whether the fans wanted to see an excessively feminine gay boy dance and flex and talk trash. It always worked. It invariably got a booming reaction. It nearly always lead to Diego stealing the victory from his confused and angry opponent, but that wasn't the case in this match. Jimmy had been ready for this chicanery and caught Diego's foot, sending him crashing back down to the canvas with a vicious spinebuster and turning his attention to Lance. Diego's prediction was right, and excitement rippled through the audience. Jimmy was rough with the boy, pulling him around by his red hair and making a mockery of him.

"This is your hero?" Jimmy yelled at the nearby fans with a fistful of Lance's long locks. "A showboy? A rejected actor?"

This was Diego's cue. He wasn't ready for this spot. He'd been dreading it in fact. He was terrified of heights, a dirty little secret of his. Going up high on the ropes made him sweat and feel dizzy, and he'd managed to avoid ladder matches for this reason. Sean wouldn't be scared. Sean would do it. He's a worthy champion. So are you. Just do it. Make Sean proud. Diego, taking a deep breath, ran to the ringside, jumped up on the ropes and launched himself at Jimmy. Sean wouldn't have been proud. Diego knew he'd botched it the moment his feet connected with the rope. He'd been scared. His legs turned to jelly halfway through the spring and he didn't go as far as he needed to. He should have landed on Jimmy, who was ready, but instead, their heads cracked together.

Both men fell to the ground. Diego was dazed. No matter how hard he blinked or tried to make sense of what was going on around him, the arena seemed to spin counterclockwise.

"Silva? Can you continue?" The referee asked him. "Silva?"

"Yes," Diego panted quietly. He was determined not to let one small accident come between him and the championship. "Stall." What happened in the next few seconds was a mystery, but when Diego finally shook the cobwebs from his head and managed to get to his feet, Jimmy was being held back by the referee and Lance holding his arm, helping him get up while still in a war of words with the champion. Diego slithered in the ring. Christ, where are we up to? What spots do we have left? Jimmy seemed to realise that Diego was still a little stunned by the mishap and was smart enough to lock him in a rest hold to give him a chance to fully get back to form. Diego was grateful for the break, even if the crowd wasn't as keen on the slower pace. They could never be patient for the long game, it seemed. They wanted climactic action all the time. It just wasn't possible for thirty minutes, not at the rate they'd be happy with.

The match finally neared its crescendo, and Diego was utterly exhausted. Stamina was something he'd have to get better at if he was frequenting the main event. Matches tended to be five or ten minutes longer than he was used to, and he was feeling every second of it. Jimmy failed to put Diego away with nearly every signature move in his arsenal, and he had climbed to the top rope while Diego lay motionless below, secretly enjoying the few seconds he had to catch his breath. Jimmy stood high up on the turnbuckle, teasing to jump down and squash Diego like a bug underneath him. Where the hell was Lovecraft? Diego looked around to see him completely out of position. What the hell, Lance? Don't blow this! Lance was supposed to shove Jimmy off the top rope, but it wasn't happening. Jimmy had already stalled for entirely too long. God-freaking-dammit, Lance! He said he knew what his jobs were!

Suddenly, a white shoe flew from the other side of the ring. What a shot! It hit Jimmy square in the face, and Diego almost broke character to laugh at Lance's ingenuity, quick thinking and terrific aim. Whether it knocked a screw loose in Jimmy's head or he was selling the hell out of it was unclear, but he teetered and fell flat on his face like a redwood being cut down. The crowd roared to life. Diego sprung to his feet and hauled Jimmy up. He hoped he had enough gas in the tank to deliver the biggest Silva Spiral he'd ever done. He grabbed the man's arm and hooked his huge leg, hauling the massive, heavy man up over his shoulders with a genuine cry of anguish. His whole body was on fire under the strain and fatigue. He gritted his teeth and fought through the pain, spinning the monstrous champion off his shoulders and slamming him down on the strategically placed garbage can with an earth-shattering crash. The fans were on their feet as Diego pinned Jimmy for the one, two, three and the match was over.

Diego's music hit and the crowd exploded in appreciation and applause. It was like no reaction Diego had ever had in his life. Never before had he received so much love or hate, no matter how hard he tried to win them over.

"Here is your winner and the new Heavyweight Champion, Diego Silva!" Sherrie shouted into the microphone, as excited and charged as any of the hardcore fans in the stands.

The referee helped Diego to his feet and presented him with the beautiful title belt he'd been coveting for years and raised his hand. Lance wasted little time in running at Diego and leaping at him for a celebratory hug, hooking his legs around the bigger man's waist and his arms around the shoulders like a damn octopus, and the two of them soaked up the energy from the fans. The combination of all these things proved to be too emotional for Diego, and he began to cry joyful tears in the middle of the ring.