On the Road From Gethsemane to Golgotha

The old, battered Volkswagen Beetle pulled up to the cemetery gates. It wasn't much, as cars went, especially to someone who had spent years used to sparing no cost to travel in the utmost luxury. But, if you were in hiding, it didn't do to go driving around in a flashy car like a BMW. It would draw too much unwanted attention.

Cadiz opened the door and unfolded himself from the small vehicle. He was not sure what had possessed him to come out here to the graveyard at this hour of the morning, but he was in need of guidance and this was the only place he could come to for that these days.

He stalked the rows of graves as the crimson light of dawn broke on the horizon. Eventually he found what he was looking for.

"Mama, papa," he said as he cleared the weeds away from the two headstones. "I'm sorry I haven't come to visit in a while. Thing have been a bit...complicated." Guiltily he glanced to the side of his parents' graves and saw a fresher stone. "Here lies Ruben Ricardo Léon..." he read aloud before trailing off.

Ruben took a moment to compose himself, and thought about the poor bastard who actually lay in that grave. It had taken him forever to find a suitable candidate to take his place. The man had been terminally ill, was about Ruben's height and build, had no family who would be suspicious of the lack of burial and was willing to take part in his plan.

Ramon Diego, his name had been. His cancer so painful that a bullet to the brain had been a blessed relief. The tattoos were a genius touch, and Ramon's idea. Ruben had actually grown to quite like the man in the couple of months between the hatching of the plan and the execution, for want of a better word.

The bit in the papers about the cartel link was partly true. Ruben didn't have it in him to pull the trigger himself, and he cashed in a favour a local drug lord owed him for getting his son tickets to a big lucha libre event.

And so there lay Ramon Diego, not Ruben Ricardo Léon.

"What do I do?" he asked the headstones. "My cover has been blown. If Casey can find me all the way down here then other people can too. Someone doesn't know how to keep their mouth shut and if I'm found down here I'll be a joke. My life will be over."

Ruben got up from his knees and wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was almost up now and it sweltering heat already. He didn't know what he had expected to find here in this dusty old churchyard on the outskirts of Villahermosa.

Standing, disconsolate amongst the rows of headstones, he was startled by a voice behind him.

"You ok there, boy?" It was a voice that sounded old and weary. Ruben turned around and was confronted with its owner, a small, squat man who was easily in to his 80s.
"Yes, sorry. Who are you?" Ruben asked.
"Caretaker," the man replied.
"I was just...I came to visit someone."
"Odd time of the day for it," the caretaker observed. "Don't usually get anyone in here until 9 or 10. Who are you here to see?" The short man craned his neck to see the headstones behind Ruben, who did his best to get in the way.
"No one important..." he blurted out.
"Then why are you here to see them? Stands to reason they must be important for a young man such as yourself to trek all the way out here at such an ungodly hour."
"It's...complicated," Ruben offered by way of explanation.
"Ah," the caretaker said, bustling past Ruben. "The Léons. Ain't no one been out to see them for a good long while. Not since the son died."
"Is that so?" Ruben asked.

Since the transition to his new life as the owner of Bar Guapo, Ruben had not given much thought to his legacy. The reasons for ending it all had been simple.

His marriage had broken down after Maria could not cope with his depression and spiralling alcoholism. Since leaving America and returning to his homeland to wrestle the opportunities had not come as thick or as fast as had been promised which only served to further depreciate his mental state. Things were going downhill fast, and Ruben had seen the writing on the wall. This was how it was going to end for Ruben Ricardo Léon either way and so he had jumped before all of the factors had actually pushed him in to an early grave.

He knew Maria was comfortable now - she had been all too happy to take his money even if she wouldn't come identify the body - but beyond that he had tried to think as little about the past as possible. Somehow it shocked him that nobody had come to visit. He thought that at least one fan might have made the trip down to see it.

Casting back to his childhood, and the first time he ever went to a lucha libre event in Villahermosa with his father, he remembered the wonder that he felt at the situation, the admiration he had for the men in the ring; for his heroes. If he had found out that one of them had let him down in such a way, would he have visited their grave? Probably only to spit on it. His shoulders sank.

“You OK, boy?” the old caretaker asked, a bushy eyebrow raised.
“I... I have to go.” Ruben blurted out, taking off at a run towards his car.

He pulled out the flyer that Corey had given him as he got in to the driver's seat of the Beetle. Turning it over he read the event card.

“Ruben Ricardo Léon vs Jason Hawk vs Anna Stone vs James Shark vs Stygian," he read aloud. A scrawl on the bottom of the flyer caught his eye. It was a flight and a gate number. Casey must have scribbled it on before he handed it over. How long had he said before his flight left? 8 hours? And that was a couple of hours ago.

Ruben turned the key in the ignition and hit the gas.


Ruben spent the whole car ride wondering what he was going to say to Casey when he got to the airport. Would he say yes to the match, to coming back to IWF, which had been his home for so long, which had been so good to him, one last time? Or would he tell him to shove his offer up his ass and hurt him for breaking his cover.

At the end of the day Ruben knew that his life had been irrevocably changed by Casey's visit. Corey was many things, but he was honourable enough to not blow things for Ruben if he did not take the offer up. But it would only be a matter of time until someone else followed the same path that Corey had and uncover him for real. And then, then there was no way back that made him look anything but a piece of shit.

The only way he was coming out of this in any positive fashion was if he managed his return himself. There was no other way.

Ruben found Corey Casey dozing in a plush armchair in the first class lounge at Villahermosa International Airport. Security had stopped him on the way in and so he had needed to purchase a ticket to gain access, draining his reserve funds somewhat, but he was in and that was all that mattered.

“Ey, Casey,” Ruben said.
“What is it?” Corey asked without opening his eyes. “I told you not to wake me until we were ready to board.”
“I'm not your valet, puto. It's Ruben.”
Corey opened his eyes and sat up in the chair. “Took you long enough,” he said.
Ruben shrugged. “Reversing the faking of your own death is the sort of decision that you need to give a little thought to before you jump in head first, you know?”
“Sure. We've all done it,” Casey replied, a serious look on his face. “So, what? Are you here to tell me you're in or are you just looking to earn some extra money polishing my shoes?”

Ruben clenched his fist and pushed thoughts of violence from his mind, at least temporarily. He and Corey had only ever tangled in the ring once, and it hadn't ended well for Ruben. Add to that the fact that he had not been keeping anywhere near as in shape as he had when he was still in the prime of his career and he figured that Corey would have him on the ground in no time. If he was really going to do this he would have to live at the gym if he wasn't going to get squashed.

“I accept,” he said. “I'll fight.”
“Good,” Corey replied, closing his eyes again. “I knew I hadn't wasted my time coming down here. I'll see you in March.”

Ruben stood in silence for a few moments, watching his former opponent attempt to catch up on his beauty sleep. Eventually Corey opened his eyes again.

“Are you still here?” he asked.
“I need you to do me a favour,” Ruben said.
“What?”
“Don't tell anyone. That you were here. At least for the moment. If I'm coming back I'm going to play this my way. I want to handle my own return to the spotlight. I let a lot of people down and I want to make it right.”
“Sure,” Casey said. “Whatever.” This time he closed his eyes and did not open them again, so Ruben took his leave.



The Mexican people were shocked yesterday to discover that former IWF World Heavyweight Champion and national hero Ruben Ricardo Léon, who was thought to have died at the hands at a drug cartel, is alive and well in his home town of Villahermosa, in the centre of the country.

Initial reports suggest that he was living a secret life as a bar owner in the city, using the anonymity provided to him by his life under a mask to escape detection. It is understood that he had, in conjunction with a local drug lord, faked his own death to escape a life in the public eye.

The deception was unveiled on Wednesday night when Léon revealed himself at a press conference called by the city's mayor. Léon himself looked to be in good health.

“I have come forward now because a visit from an old friend prompted me to rethink my choices over the last couple of years, and I have decided at this moment to come clean about my situation,” said Léon. “I understand that this is a difficult time for everyone involved, and that I have hurt many with my actions, for which I unreservedly apologise.

“I would also like to take this opportunity to confirm the rumours that have been circulating that I will be competing at the IWF One Last Stand show in Boston. I know that I have a long road ahead of me to atone for my mistakes, but I hope to go some way to redeeming my character by performing to the best of my ability.”