Santa Cuerva Luchadora Mágica: V - La Luchadora Infinita

The Luna Cosmetica event was a success. People lined up well into the night outside the truck for free makeup consultations and samples. Some walked away with bags of cosmetics that they had been convinced to buy. One thing was certain, Luna Cosmetica was here to stay.

Marumina walked down the streets alone. Though it was night, the crowd and the ambience made it almost feel like carnival season. Still, there was a chill wind in the air. It pulled at her jacket and at the hombre desaparacido sign with the picture of Fernando Delacova and the words “¿ME HAS VISTO?” along the bottom. She watched as the crowds packed in around the Luna Cosmetica trucks, the people with new faces and new outlooks on life, enjoying the present.

She couldn't enjoy the present. She felt as if a part of her future had been stripped away. She walked past a Spanish woman wearing a gitana dress eating a churro. She had a mane of curly black hair and violet eyes. Each of her nails was pristinely manicured and filed to a point. “Buenas,” she said as Marumina passed.

Marumina walked into the wind, wondering what to do with her life. She knew she had a duty to the city, as one of Las Luchadoras Mágicas, but at the same time, she knew that she'd give it all up to follow Kenichi. She leaned against a building and looked up at the moon, at the shape of a rabbit looking down at her. She thought about Calavera Mariachi, and even he didn't make her want to stay.

“There you are,” said a voice at her feet. She looked down. It was Tochi.

“Did you have a good nap?” she said. She scooped him up.

He ignored her. “Why are you out here all alone?”

“I was just thinking,” she said.

“Thinking about what?” he said.

She ignored him.

“It's about that Pendichi, isn't it?”

She looked at him with scolding eyes. “Don't call him that,” she said. “He's not as bad as you make him out to be.”

“He's trouble,” Tochi said. “I can tell.”

“You're just jealous,” she said.

Tochi ignored this. “I get the feeling that something is going to happen,” he said.

“Me too.”

“The city needs you,” the rabbit said.

“But what about Lupe and Tina?” she said.

“It needs all of you,” he said.

The wind was blowing stronger. It ruffled Tochi's ears. Then he pulled them back.

“It's coming,” he said.

She set him down on a nearby table, where he hopped to the seat then down to the ground.

“You'd better transform,” he said from behind the base of the table.

She nodded. She pulled out the crow mask. “¡El poder de la cuerva brilla!” she said. Energy burst forth from the mask and surrounded her. In a sudden transformation, her feet were covered by black boots, her body by a black sequined leotard; a black feathery cape landed upon her shoulders, carried by a pair of crows, and finally, two green eyes peered out from behind a black luchador mask with the beak of a plague doctor mask. She landed on the ground, ready to face the ill wind.

The wind kicked up, blowing litter through the streets and Luna Cosmetica bags out from the grips of the people gathered there.

Then, from the sky descended a slim man dressed in clothes more suited for going to the opera. He wore a black tuxedo with a deep purple vest, and his cloak was black with a red interior. He wore an opera mask, and had wild hair. The cloak billowed around him as he slowly descended to the top of a nearby Luna Cosmetica truck.

“I am El Viento Triste,” he declared to those around him. “And I will conquer this town in the name of Ixchelaraña.”

“By my plumas oscuras ¡te derrotaré!” “ shouted Santa Cuerva with a flying kick toward Viento Triste.” He got knocked off the truck, slammed into the wall of a bodega, but after pushing himself back up and brushing the dust from his clothes, he stood tall and strong.

“Santa Cuerva,” he said. “They send little girls after me?” He laughed. As he laughed, the wind blew. It pulled at Santa Cuerva's feathered cape. It grew in intensity until it started moving her backward, the soles of her boots skidding across the street. She tried to anchor herself, but the wind was too strong.

The howl of the wind, however, was interrupted by a different howl. Another luchadora stood atop a nearby building. She howled at the moon before jumping down into the street. Her hair was a wild mane, and her mask looked like the face of a wolf.

“¡Lupa Guerra!” Santa Cuerva said.

The feral luchadora moved through the wind, the only indication of its effect being her hair trailing behind her. She picked up Viento Triste and after spinning him around three times, tossed him into the side of the Luna Cosmetica truck. “If it's a howling match you want,” she said, wiping her hands on each other, “then you'll lose to the wolf.”

Viento Triste extricated himself from the makeup truck. The makeup had exploded onto him, making him look like an exotico. He was less imposing with dark eyeshadow and glossy ruby lips. “Still,” he said. “I can handle two whelps. I am numero uno to mi reina.”

“How about three?” said another voice. Clinging to the top of a street lamp was another lunchadora. She had a black mask with a yellow stripe, and her scaly leotard had thick bands of red and black separated by thin bands of yellow. She slid down the street lamp and stood defiantly beside her companions.

“Culebra Coralina, I'm glad you're here,” Santa Cuerva said.

Viento Triste smiled a grim smile. “So, I must face all the Luchadoras Mágicas in one go? ¡Es pan comido!” He cracked his knuckles and adjusted his mask. “¿Listas?”

The three luchadoras leapt into action. Viento Triste would block one attack, but leave himself open to another. An elbow to the shoulder here, a sweep of the legs there, until Santa Cuerva was able to get him into a suplex. He slammed into the pavement, leaving a noticeable dent.

His body shimmered, surrounded by a strange energy. The wind whirled around him, carrying bits of debris and litter into a swirl. Then, as if being pulled up by strings, he rose. He looked different. His arms and legs were more muscular. He towered over the luchadoras. He wore a new mask, the one with a large circle on the forehead with two arms opposite each other, giving the impression that it was twirling. Viento Triste had transformed into El Huracán.

He threw out his arms, sending gusts of wind. Both Lupa Guerra and Culebra Coralina were sent flying. Santa Cuerva was safe currently, but only because she was safely protected from the winds by the Luna Cosmetica truck.

When the wind had passed, she saw that both Lupa Guerra and Culebra Coralina had been thrown into the sides of buildings. They looked like they were both out cold.

She did her best to assess the damage. El Huracán could control the winds with a higher intensity than his previous form. It started to rain, and it rained hard. She pulled the hood of her cape up over her head. She would have to give it all she had.

She stepped out from behind the Luna Cosmetica truck. “You think you're a powerful force of nature,” she said defiantly. “But you're just una depresión.”

She did a flying leap, planting a boot on his back. This staggered him, but not for long. He turned and faced her. “Your masks will decorate the hall of mi reina,” he said.

He threw a fist at her, and with it came a gust of wind and water. She dodged it, and it made a massive dent in the side of the truck behind her.

She ran toward him, dodging more blasts, and, hopping off a nearby car, kicked him across the face once more. He spun, but did not fall. Instead, he picked up a discarded broom. He flung it at her. She just barely dodged, but the makeshift spear caught her cape. It pinned her to the wall of a bodega. Immobilized, she stood there, struggling against the embedded broom handle that stuck her to the wall. El Huracán sauntered over to her, victory on his face. “Now,” he said, “¡to unmask La Santa Cuerva!” He reached out his hand to pull off her crow mask.

A few chords played on a guitarron and a marigold dart flew through the air. It knocked aside El Huracán's hand and obliterated the broom handle. Santa Cuerva was free.

While El Huracán nursed his injured hand, a slow melody played on a guitarron began to arise from the rain. Stepping into view was Calavera Mariachi, playing a rondo as he stepped forward. His sombrero deflected most of the rain, keeping his skull makeup intact as the water poured down around them.

He continued his song as he approached El Huracán. “Your wind is a gentle breeze,” he said. “Your rain is like teardrops.” As he played, a flicker of color popped through the rain, purples and yellows and oranges, all light, all shining through the gloom. The lights began to orbit Calavera Mariachi, spinning around him until they were a blur. He continued to play his rondo.

“But you've made a girl cry,” he said. “And that is unforgivable.” He pointed the neck of his guitarron at El Huracán, and with a great flourish, finished his song, sending the wave of lights down the neck of his guitarron and out toward the luchador. The lights struck him in an explosion of sound and color, leaving him prone. Calavera Mariachi stood over his defeated foe. Santa Cuerva stood beside him. He gestured to El Huracán. “You do the honors,” he said.

She nodded. She reached down and unmasked him. However, instead of revealing a very confused man, the face below the mask melted into nothingness, and his bones crumbled to dust, only to be carried along on the winds until there was nothing left but a ragged leotard.

“You have defeated the second-in-command,” said a voice behind them. They turned. It was the masked matadora, her violet eyes shining in the dark.

Tochi hopped out from where he was hiding. “La Gatadora,” he said. “I had a feeling you were around.” She scratched his shoulder with his back foot.

She nodded to the rabbit. “It is nice to see you again, Metztlitochtli,” she said. She looked up at the moon, hanging full in the night sky. “If we hurry,” she said to Santa Cuerva and Calavera Mariachi, “we can defeat Ixchelaraña before she has time to rebuild her armies.” She pointed at the moon.

Santa Cuerva looked over at the others, at Lupe Guerra and Culebra Coralina. They were both out cold. “I can't leave them behind,” she said.

Tochi stopped scratching himself. “I'll take care of them.” He twitched his nose and flopped his ears, and then in a whirl of light and color, he was a man in a white suit. Aside from a pair of rabbit ears, he looked like a handsome fellow, albeit with white hair and red eyes. He leaned over Lupe Guerra and checked her for serious injuries. “You should listen to La Gatadora,” he said. “Go now while she's weakened.”

Calavera Mariachi looked up at the moon. “How are we supposed to get there?” he asked.

Santa Cuerva pulled a flute out from within her cape. It was carved from a large, hollow bone. She played a short song upon it. Moments later, the sky was black with feathers and they could hear nothing but the commotion of a murder of crows. They flew like a whirlwind of a shadow until they coalesced into a single form. Before them stood a massive crow. It stood taller than Calavera Mariachi. It looked at Santa Cuerva and bowed its head low, spreading its wings.

“We're going to ride that?” Calavera Mariachi said.

“Don't join MENSA yet, menso,” Tochi said, not looking up from Culebra Coralina.

Calavera Mariachi glowered at the rabbit man. He helped Santa Cuerva step onto the crow's back, and then climbed up himself, sitting behind her.

“There's room for one more,” said La Gatadora. Calavera Mariachi held out his hand and helped her onto the crow's back as well, where she sat behind him.

“¿Listos?” Santa Cuerva said. The others nodded. She gripped onto some feathers, and the crow started flapping its wings. Soon it was airborne, and she guided it into the sky, where it sped on toward the moon.