[b]10:45 PM June 4th, Mexico City[/b]
 
On a black rubber gym mat, Bane was currently laying down firmly on the ground. This particular gym was open twenty four hours which was nice and because of the time that Bane decided to head to this gym it was relatively empty of other patrons, and there was only a small amount of staff present. The other customers who were here were mostly focused on the machines, primarily the treadmill and the elliptical. Bane however did not care to use a machine at this moment but rather he wished to do something simpler.
 
This was why Bane was laying firmly down on the black rubber mat below. He had his knees pointing up and kept both of his feet firmly in place and had his arms crossed over his chest. Bane curled up as he performed a sit-up before curling back down onto the mat shortly before immediately rising up again. Upwards then back downwards, it was a simple and easy pattern to complete. Upwards then back downwards, it was a steady rhythm that Bane was keeping. Occasionally he would look up towards the television monitor that hanged above him but the colorful commercials did not keep his attention for long. His attention was focused on more sit-ups.
 
After many sit-ups, Bane stood up and began stretching to loosen his body a bit. He first began with a side trunk to the left, his eyes focused onto the television as the programming shifted from commercials and into the news. He held this position for a bit, watching as the late night news welcomed themselves to the audience as they returned from a commercial break. As the newscast team was preparing to delve into another segment, Bane switched his stretch from a left side trunk to a right side trunk. Cutting to the weatherman, Bane once again kept his position before returning back up just as the broadcasting duo returned from this side tangent. Spreading his legs apart and raising up his arms, Bane began performing jumping jacks as the broadcasters motioned to some news regarding foreign soil.
 
Apparently in United States, earlier yesterday there was a break in at the International Museum of Crime. This drew Bane's attention as he kept his focus on the television while he continued to exercise. This robbery was concocted by a man dressed as a skeleton, the symbol of death. This man passionately lamented the fate of what happened to crime while he was away. While he was still doing jumping jacks, Bane slowed down as he tilted his head slightly ever focused on the screen.
 
Here the proclaimed headmaster of Lord Deathman spoke of spreading the style of sensualized crimes. At this point Bane stopped exercising all together as he focused solely on the television. The luchador watched wordlessly as the skeletal goons began collecting all the money from those upperclass, and of course how Lord Deathman spoke of how to be a proper super-criminal. After that recap the broadcasters switched topics, but Bane was no longer interested in the television.
 
Heading to the locker-rooms Bane opened up a locker and retrieved a duffelbag before exiting the gym. He slowly opened the bag and began to carress a cylinder containing a bright green liquid before zipping the bag shut.
 
Bane knew what he had to do.
 
___________________________________________
[b][b]5:36 AM, June 5th, El Tajin [i][i][i](Southern Ballcourt)[/i][/i][/i][/b][/b]
 
[color=662d91][b]"BIENVENIDO!"[/b][/color] howled out Bane as he stood on the stands glancing down upon the eight assembled warriors that he would subject to perfection. They were an eclectic bunch to be certain but Bane knew they had the heart of the warriors that other roster talent lacked. Alongside this the promoter he talked to before about the tournament was very insistent on whatever needed to happen to not lose the mask to another promotion, and allowed Bane some free reign to assemble a top notch team of warriors in order to best the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling. 

They were an eclectic bunch to be certain but Bane knew they had the heart of the warriors that other roster talent lacked. Alongside this the promoter he talked to before about the tournament was very insistent on whatever needed to happen to not lose the mask to another promotion, and allowed Bane some free reign to assemble a top notch team of warriors in order to best the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling.
 
The first mighty contestant that was chosen by Bane was a fairly tall and twitchy looking electrician who had a greasy shirt with a single name tag indicating he was "Lucas". This man earned the honor by possessing the van that was needed to collect and transport the other warriors and the "ceremonial hoods", well at least Bane referred to them as such, in which to cover these warriors' faces in before they were unleashed in the game. It would most likely be a longshot for this man to win, but perhaps he had a sharpened instinct that would allow him to win.
 
Numbers two through four were more properly trained luchadors, a trio known as "The Liquidators". Well they used to be a trio before one of the partners was recently betrayed. The betrayed partner in this former alliance was known as 'Agent Big', he was a Mini-Estrella or through a more common colloquialism, "midget wrestler". Agent Big stood at four feet and two inches, and was still dressed in his canary yellow suit and ivory colored dress shoes. He was the tactical mind behind The Liquidators and the daredevil who would risk life and limb to get any asset possible for victory. Unfortunately recently the Liquidators were suffering a losing streak despite that and the other two Liquidators, Salvage and Snatch blamed Agent Big for making them look bad. Salvage and Snatch were a pair of brothers who looked identical, tall darker skinned lads with bleach blonde hair. Salvage dressed fairly similiar to Agent Big, wearing a suit combo but Salvage's was a dark brown that looked more worn out. Snatch on the other hand was the odd man out as he was a luchador who followed in the traditions of 'exoticos', male luchadors who fought in drag, and looked more like a prostitute wearing tight shorts, fishnet stockings and a crop top. Certainly this was a moment that could redeem them and kickstart a new era of success...
 
Number five of these warriors was sicario, a hitman and soldier for the cartel, known as "Standman" Hernandez. He was a lean and mean tattooed covered killing machine. And of course he was a rather curious soldier of the Tijuana Cartel. His moniker was earned from his previous life work as a hot-dog vendor in the States. However that didn't pan out well at all for him so Hernandez found himself back in his stomping grounds of Tijuana, where he got involved with the Tijuana Cartel. Hernandez was certainly a proficient killer, certainly had the skills of a warrior, but did he have the heart of one?
 
Number six of these warriors was another criminal, this one by the name of Enrique Molina. He wasn't a pretty looking man, had a nasty scar running down his face and was an obese man. But he made up in his lack of charms with business acumen, as he held a decent sized cock-fighting circuit that netted him a good amount of profit. Of course he was fine watching these animal warriors fight for their survival, but could Enrique survive when he was put in a similar situation?
 
Number seven of these warriors was 'chop shop' mechanic by the name of Fabio Santiago, and by jove did he earn the right to actually be named Fabio. He was tall, had chiseled abs, a great chin and eyes that reminded you a refreshing fall breeze. He was a spot on impersonator for many male leads in a variety of romance novels, but despite that somehow he was reduced to having to making a living by stealing car parts instead of women's hearts.
 
And rounding up this batch of warriors was a money launderer known as Pete Schneider. This man was a launderer for the Milenio Cartel, who just happened to be in Mexico City for a rare face to face interface. He was a simple looking man, had a combover and most always had a defeated looking air about him. Perhaps it was from his marriage of twenty years, or perhaps from dealings with the Milenio Cartel, or perhaps it was all a ruse in order to hide a more dangerous beast from unsuspecting gazes. The answer would surely be seen after the result of the game.

Bane's arms were outstretched to both sides while he looked down into the court watching confused luchadors removing bags from their heads. Bane allowed these warriors to glance around in confusion at the scenery they found themselves in and get some proper footing for their situation. As the drugs began to get closer to finally revitalizing themselves in his body, Bane continued on with his speech.
 
[color=662d91]"¡Ustedes deben sentir mucho honor estar aquí! Es obvio que ustedes estén confudidos pero responderé a sus preguntas. Estamos en El Tajín. Este es un zona con a historia rica y aquí estaré enseñando ustedes mucha en la arte de violencia."[/color] As Bane explained that he was there with these chosen eight in order to explain to them the art of violence; he grabbed a thick, rubber ball with his left hand and just held onto it for a moment.
 
[color=662d91]"Esta es la bola usado en [b]El Juego[/b]."[/color] Most of the luchadors seemed unaware of what Bane was speaking of, but there was one in the audience who let out a gulp. Explaining the significance of the ball Bane began chucking it up and down peering down at the confused crowd who still didn't seem to understand what their purpose was here. It was a shame that some of these men, these uneducated warriors, some of them could've been among the men who would be defending the honor of Mexico against the Japanese.
 
[color=662d91]"Hay cuatro miembros por cada equipo. El objetivo de [b]El Juego[/b] es impedir la bola de cae en el suelo."[/color] After explaining this basic format of the game's structure, Bane knew that he had to do something else in order to make sure these luchadors knew proper procedure. Letting go of the ball with his left hand, Bane carefully watched its descent before thrusting his hip to smack against the ball. The ball itself flew from this trajectory and struck one of Salvage in the chest. With a loud yelp, the luchador collapsed onto the ground before he was picked back up by Snatch. 
 
[color=662d91]"Usarás tus caderas solamente."[/color] Again Bane thrust his hip to demonstrate the rules of this ancient bloodsport. But now with that explained Bane simply needed to finish up the rest of his dialogue.
 
[color=662d91]"[b]El Juego[/b] durará hasta un solo equipo permanecen. ¡Los perdedores son sacrificar sus vidas a Huitzilopochtli!"[/color] It was at this point the other luchadors had come to realize the exact situation that they found themselves in. [b][color=662d91]"¡Los Japonés no pueden ganar!"[/color][/b] howled out Bane as that neon green solution that was his drugs [i]finally[/i] entered into his bloodstream.
 
Spying one of the eight, in particular Enrique Molina, he had assembled was trying to leave, presumably he did not sign into a tournament in order to be taken hostage by a mad man nor did he wish to compete in an ancient blood sport to survive. Bane gingerly took a small rock that was near him from the stands and hopped down in front of that luchador.
 
[color=662d91]"Ahora."[/color] Bane spoke fairly calmly before crushing the rock in his bare hand while staring at Enrique. [color=662d91]"[i]Lucha[/i]."[/color] With a gulp the luchador returned to the other three who were closest to form a team. As the teams began to gather Bane made his way back to the stands in order to watch and observe the first of many games. Only the finest and mightiest of those souls were going to make it to that tournament, Bane would make sure of it.