Victorious and Shelby Marx created by Dan Schneider.
Shelby Marx (Yin)/ Tori Vega (Yang)
(Spanish Translation)
ESPN Current Events Desk: Special Report
The camera cuts to two female sportscasters Linda Cohn and Erin Andrews. Both are blonde and gorgeous, with Linda wearing a short-sleeved red blouse, and Erin in more professional attire. As soon as the iconic music ended they both looked up and smiled into the camera.
Linda was the first to speak, while she continued to smile, "Welcome and thank you for tuning in to this ESPN Special News Bulletin, Erin."
"Thank you, Linda," Erin smiled warmly, yet professionally, before turning to the camera, "Shocking events are taking place in the world of woman's mixed-martial arts. Where current undefeated, featherweight, champion, Shelby Marx has just announced her retirement from the world of MMA."
"Yes, the young lady, who was the youngest champion in the history of the sport, sited disillusionment, and loss of appetite for the sport, as reasons for her sudden abandonment of professional fighting. She stated, 'I don't want to be known for hurting people anymore,' has for the past 18 months divested herself of all her endorsement deals, even willing to take a loss and fines. She has only appeared in the mandatory title defenses, where she was able to defeat all of her opponents handily, is set to be formally stripped of her title in two weeks…"
Tori Vega's bedroom Sherwood, CA – 6 months later
Tori Vega lay in her bed, going over the events of the last week or so. When she retired from mixed-martial arts, as the youngest champion in history, Shelby Marx, born Victoria (Tori) Dawn Vega, was fully prepared to embrace obscurity, and be forgotten. While she was Shelby Marx, Tori moved away from her parents, and older sister, Catrina (Trina), her maternal grandmother from Seattle became her legal guardian - which is where the name Marx came from - and adopted a completely different personality. She forced down the bubbly, vibrant little girl that used to sing with her sister on long car rides. While she was Shelby, the parts of her personality that she brought out, were aspects that showed her as the tougher than nails, even-tempered – unless you insult or hurt her grandma (Carly Shay) – MMA champion. It got so bad that she no longer recognized the woman staring back at her from her mirror.
Hence, when it came close to renewing her contract with CFC she declined, she told them she no longer had the drive to compete. She started declining endorsement deals, and began giving her entourage the boot. She waited long enough to give her manager, trainer, and other employees time to look for work elsewhere. Tori's since of honor refused to allow her to shirk on her responsibilities, so the only fights she accepted were those required to fulfill her current contract; another aspect of honor and pride meant that she never fought at anything less than her best, which is why she was able to retire and still retain her title until it was stripped from her the night she retired.
Her grandmother legally returned guardianship rights to her parents, and moved to Florida. Shelby Marx faded into the mists, and Tori Vega reappeared moving back in with her parents and returning to a real high school, Sherwood High. She kept up with her training, who needs to diet, when you train as a professional martial artist, which even she believes has made her quite attractive. Her martial arts training is one of the few abilities she cherishes, so she trains every day, returning to her roots since it was her father's Filipino Martial Arts training that allowed her to be Shelby Marx
In the six months since leaving the fighting world, she has relished the obfuscation of being Tori Vega. She never had any plans to return to the spotlight until Trina's Big Showcase…
It all started two weeks ago, when I was doing a science project on mold. I was holding a plastic binder, and making notations regarding the tree of moldy food. "Let's see," I said, moving forward, laying the binder down on my kitchen table, "the bread mold."
"Bread mold," my partner Matt repeated, typing it on his pearpad.
"Furry," I say, and upon closer inspection, added, "mushy," stepping back and quickly wiping my hands off. Matt repeated my words as he added them to our science project database. "Now," I move around closer to him, acting professional, "the fish mold."
"Fish Mold," he repeated.
I lean down and with a grimace knowing what I'd smell, took a big whiff, "stinky," I say, my tone expressing my distaste.
Suddenly, the door opened and, "I AM SO UPSET," came from the door, followed by a slamming door. At the door was my one-year older sister, home from her school Hollywood Arts. Matt and I turned to regard my sister with a mixture of surprise and concern. Dropping her purse and keys onto a living room chair, she marched over in a huff, "You won't believe who I got partnered with for the Big Showcase."
"Who," I asked taking a step forward?
"Andrew Harris, a tenth grader," she answered indignantly.
"What's the Big Showcase," Matt asked?
"It's a performance they put on at her school…" I started explaining.
Trina interrupts me and grabs Matt's hand, "…they invite agents and directors and producers, and other super-powerful people, and it's extremely important, which why I am extremely upset and good-bye," she drags Matt to the door, all the while talking extremely fast, and getting more agitated, so that by the time she shoves him out the door, she is practically roaring.
"Hey, he and I have a science project due tomorrow," I said angrily, "now who's gone help me with my mold bush," I shout?!
Trina had calmed down enough to look apologetic at her behavior, "Well, I need you to help me pick a song for the showcase," she said as we move over to the piano at the bottom of our staircase, "I definitely want to sing." Then slamming her hands down on the keys, she belts out an operatic, where the only thing going for it was that it was loud. "How was that," she asked with a grin?
"Loud," I reply in sarcasm, leaning on the instrument.
"Awesome," she says missing my sarcasm completely.
DING, DONG," the bell says
Sighing in exasperation, Trina says, "He's here," she said while sauntering to the door, I get up to follow, but she turns to me and says, "Stay," holding up a hand, like I'm a dog. I must fight my inner Shelby to remember that this is my beloved sister, that I love, and who loves me, so I don't pummel her face. Vega rule number one, do not use your skills on family. Reaching the door, she drags it open with a 'come in,' and a roll of her eyes.
An African-American kid with dreadlock down to his chin walks in with his hands in his pockets, and an incredulous expression walks into the living room. He's wearing an untucked, gray-fading-to-purple shirt, a sky-blue hoodie, with black sleeves and purple cuffs with a back pack slung over his left shoulder, dark blue-jeans, and sneakers.
"Tori, that's Andrew," Trina said, making irritated introductions, yep, that's my sister.
"André," he corrected.
"Hey," I wave with a smile.
He smiles, "You go to Hollywood Arts, too?"
"Oh, no, I'm not a performer," I say quickly, and immediately point my thumb at Trina, "just my sister." Who looked as though I was giving her due.
"Yep," Trina said, "I got the talent and she got the strong teeth," she said, voice dripping to condescension and conceit, while she cupped my jaw.
She's my sister, she's my sister, can't knock her teeth out, no matter how much I want to, I am thinking as she does this, keeping a tight rein on my temper.
"You know, she's never even had one cavity," Trina confides conspiratorially to André.
"I try not to brag about it," I say acting demure.
André looks beyond my sister and me, and spies our piano, his eye alighting with glee, "Oh, nice piano," quickly moving around us to sit down. He begins playing a short tune, which pleasantly surprises me, and lights the fires of ambition in Trina's eyes.
I step over to sit down next to him, "Oh my God, you're fantastic," I say in astonishment.
Trina however rolls her eyes, "He's okay," continuing her long campaign of refusing to give praise to anyone.
André suddenly starts sniffing the air as if smelling something awful. He picks up my arm and sniffs it. I cringe in embarrassment and unable to hide it, close my eyes in shame say, "Fish mold," with an embarrassed grin, which prompts him to drop my hand in disgust.
Tori Vega: 5 DAYS helping Trina and André rehearse. Trina is driving me INSANE. Tori via TwitFlash – 5 min. ago
André at TheSlap: I hear ya
A week later, I find André out on our patio yelling into his cellphone. I like André, we became good friends during the week, bonding by our shared misery, under the tyranny of the primadonna, that is my sister. We were taking a rare break while Trina gargled some 'miracle cure' that she heard about from some friends at her school that was supposed to make you sing better. If all it took to be able to sing good was some mouthwash, then everybody could sing like a superstar. I was bringing André a drink of water, when I heard him shouting into his cellphone. "No grandma," he yelled, voice dripping with frustration, "listen there's no way you can drown at my school!" She obviously didn't believe him because he couldn't get a word in edgewise, until his frustration finally built until he pulled his phone away from himself and shouted, "Call you later," and hung up with relief!
I looked at him with raised curious eyebrows, and a wide smirk as I handed him his drink. "Your grandmother's coming to the Big Showcase?"
"Yeah," he said with a smirk, "it'll be the first time she's left the house in six years."
"Six years," I eye him incredulously, and with curiosity?
"She's afraid of everything," he answers with a small smirk, "rabbis, bikinis, umbrellas, breakfast foods…"
I nodded with a smirk, "So, if she saw a rabbi in a bikini eating pancakes…" I quip?
André fires back, "…the woman would lose her mind."
Hearing the Wicked Witch of the Vegas, bellowing from my living room, André and I trudge back in to get back to work. Well, we would've if I didn't see the train wreck of a dress on my sister. Even Puckett has better fashion sense than my sister. It looked more like a birthday cake than a dress. It was floor-length, strapless, with white and sky-blue horizontal stripes running from her chest down. I stopped and just stared at Trina, perplexed that she would wear something so ugly.
Trina was doing vocal exercises next to the piano, but stopped when we entered. She saw us eying the dress, but totally misread our expressions. "Do you like it, this is the dress I'm wearing to the showcase," she asked excitedly?
If you can't say something nice, say nothing at all, the saying goes. André and I shared a look to see if we had anything nice to say. "Let's get back to rehearsal," he said turning away, and heading to the piano. Thanks, pal, I thought sarcastically.
Since I didn't have anything nice to say about my sister's dress, I asked, "Why are you wearing it now, we've still got a week 'til the show." I stopped in front of Trina as I asked.
She reached up to cup my face, "Oh, my baby sister," she said in her most condescending voice, "you have to live the part, to be the part." I narrowed my eyes in annoyance, giving her a warning look. She let go of my chin, not out of fear, but in shame at her behavior. Trina is no slouch at fighting, in fact if she ever competed, she could give me a run for my money, and I was never defeated. My sister never sought fame in the octagon, which makes me admire her, because she's taking a less sure route to achieve glory. My glare however, says, there are limits to admiration. Turning to André, "Time to practice, Andrew," she orders.
"It's André," he yells in exasperation.
"Who cares," Trina replies?
"Trina," I yell, "I think he cares, his parents care," I admonish her, then pressing a hand to my own chest "I am sure that his friends care about his name."
"Fine," Trina, "his name is André, can we please practice the song I wrote?"
"You mean the song I wrote," André corrects.
"Nobody cares who wrote the song," Trina snaps. André looks at me in exasperation, I got the distinct impression that if he didn't need this showcase for a grade, he would have washed his hands of my sister. I give him an apologetic look, apologizing for my sister has become my new pastime. He turns back to the piano, slamming his hands down in frustration, he takes a breath before calming down. He begins to play, 'Make It Shine' the song he wrote. "And, I'll make it shiiine," my sister's voice screeches out, off key, out of tune, and so out of harmony with the musical prodigy's beautiful music it gave me a headache!
André scrunches his nose, jerking away from the strangled cat that is my sister. He looks at me in pain, "Do you have any aspirin?" I smirk at him and pull a huge bottle of pain relievers and hand him a couple. This is far from the first time both of us have needed them this week.
Tori Vega: Ditching school… for the SHOWCASE.
Tori via TwitFlash – 30 min. ago
My family, my mother, Dr. Holly Vega (nèe Marx), MD, and father, LAPD Detective, David Vega, are sitting to my right side, near the front of the auditorium. All the acts we watched have been awesome. There was a pretty, red haired girl, introduced as Cat Valentine, paired with a blonde, Lindsey Graham, doing a series of skits, ranging from comedy routines, to poignant ballads. Lindsey was a gifted actress, but Cat had a voice that angels envied. The acts ranged from duos and trios and solo acts, with bands, and dance routines thrown in the mix.
One of the weirdest and funniest acts, was the ventriloquist act of Rex and Robbie. Rex was the dummy, Robbie the puppeteer. Robbie played the part of the comedienne that couldn't tell a joke, the nerdy outcast, and Rex was the slick and confident ladies man, who was dismissive of his human partner. The act culminated with them getting into a heated argument on stage, and Robbie throwing the doll, stage left. That wasn't the end of the act, however because not only was Robbie a gifted ventriloquist, he also seemed to be a master at throwing his voice, because Robbie would try to continue his act by playing a harmonica, and the audience would hear Rex heckling Robbie from the left wing. They got so into it that Robbie literally threw his harmonica off stage, presumably at Rex. When Robbie started to walk back to the center of the stage, a huge case came lofting out at Robbie. Apparently, Robbie saw it in time, and with reflexes, and a surprising amount of strength, for his skinny-looking frame, caught the case in midair, by the handle. He looked surprised for a moment looking off stage, to the instrument, then the audience. Robbie set the case on the stage deck, opened it and like a soldier assembling his rifle, put together a saxophone. After, placing the sax over his shoulders, Robbie closed the instrument case, and launch it right back off into the left wing, where it presumably nailed Rex causing him to cry out. Then, Robbie tested the saxophone playing various scales and drills, that highlighted his skill with the instrument, then looking at the audience, he bowed and said, with a grateful smile, "Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience," and began playing a beautiful orchestral instrumental while he danced off stage. I was amazed at how talented he was, at not just one thing but at multiple, and his agility and dexterity were on par with, or exceeded some of the best MMA fighters, I had met.
Now, the act on stage was performing a break dance number, to a rap song. I was enjoying myself, music has always been my achilles heel. Mostly pop, rock, and even a little country, if a song inspires me I'll listen to it until I know it by heart, then sing it without a care in the world. The act currently on stage was kickin' it old school, when we suddenly began to hear cries of distress and indignation. They sounded familiar to me, like I had heard those same screams before, they sounded a lot like Trina. I was ready to dismiss that observation when a school official came up the aisle to speak to my parents. "Are you the parents of Trina Vega," he asked?
"Yes, we are," my father responded, some worry creeping into his voice, "what's wrong?"
Instead of answering, "please, come with me, we'll explain when we get backstage," the educator responded.
My parents and I, didn't waste anytime getting backstage. While the urgency of my sister's plight tempered my enthusiasm, I couldn't help but marvel at the sights and sounds that greeted us when we got back there. There was quite a hive of activity taking place back here. There were acts waiting to go on stage, or just coming off it. I saw most of the acts I had seen so far, I even saw Robbie and Rex milling around backstage.
We got to where my sister was, she looked alright with her hair done, and that monstrosity she was wearing. We saw André pacing back and forth, hands in his pockets, looking agitated. There was a lady with a school nurses' uniform standing close to Trina, with a mouth probe, and a penlight considering my sister's mouth. I finally saw what the problems was; something was in her mouth, and it took me a full 30 seconds to realize… it was her tongue. She was chattering a mile a minute, but with swollen appendage, the words were unintelligible. She was, however able to communicate with tone and facial expression.
My mom was in doctor mode, and asked for the nurse's diagnosis, "what have we got, nurse," she said in her best doctor voice?
The nurse turned and in a professional tone replied, "I don't know for certain, doctor Vega, but it appears to be some kind of allergic reaction to something."
"That would only make sense if she came into contact with something unusual," Mom replied, "she didn't eat or drink anything unusual today…"
"Yes, she did," I chime in, "that gargle she's been using, to supposedly help her sing better."
They all looked at me in surprise, "What are you talking about, Victoria," my mother demanded?
Ignoring the use of my full name which I hate, and mom only uses when she wants a straight answer, so I answer, "Trina sent away for this Chinese herb, that's supposed to help you sing like a nightingale. She's been gargling that stuff for a week, now. Could that have cause the swelling?"
My mother was glaring at her oldest daughter now, who cringed a little, "Catrina Danielle Vega, I thought I taught you better than that," our mother's voice snapped like a whiplash. Trina looked up at our parents, our dad shaking his head in disappointment, then dropped her head in disgrace, mom looked over at the school nurse, "my daughter needs a strong antihistamine to bring down the swelling, but she won't be able to perform tonight."
The school officials looked deflated, Lane a light skinned, African-American, kept talking about having to fill the hole that just opened up in the schedule. He mentioned that not only would it mess up the Showcase, but give André, her partner a failing grade which was a big part of his average for the semester. André was depressed, but nodded in acceptance, he sighed, "people are more important than showcases or grades."
My parents were stunned and even Trina managed to look even more ashamed than before. I walked over to give my new friend for a week a hug, which he accepts and returns, but Lane is not finished speaking, "If we could only find someone, who knows the act as well as Trina we could send them on instead," he stated, thinking out loud. Andre's arms suddenly tighten around my waist.
André steps back holding me at arm's length, looking beseechingly into my eyes, then says, "There's her sister."
My eyes go wide, as I begin shaking my head, "No, nononono," I stammer breaking his grip quite easily, "I am not the performer in the family, that's Trina's domain," I exclaim.
André shook his head, "Tori you can sing too," he said in his most convincing, but sincere voice. "I've listened to you sing over the last two weeks, you know the song, the routine, even the choreography," then he leans in dropping his voice to a whisper, "and your voice is better than your sister's, on her best day."
My eyes go even wider at that revelation, there's no way that's true. I think about all he has said, and wonder if its true. Then I shake my head, it doesn't matter if it's true or not, there is one huge reason why I can't go on stage tonight. I was Shelby Marx, I was the youngest, undefeated, CFC champion in the history of the sport, there are bound to be cameras out the in the audience ready to beam my likeness all over the internet, these last six months I've been trying to get away from that kind of attention. Going on stage would derail all my progress. "I can't, André," I say my eyes starting to water, "I'm sorry, but I can't do it."
"Why not," he asks in exasperation?!
"There's a reason," I reply in a pleading voice, hoping he'll understand, "I can't tell you what it is, you'll just have to believe me," I shout back, close to tears!
"Creo que deberías hacerlo, niña. (I think you should do it, baby girl.)" came a deep voice from behind. We whip around and see my father standing several feet away.
"¿Papi," I ask in surprise?
"Debes tomar el lugar de tu hermana en la Showcase, (You should take your sister's place in the Showcase,)" David Vega advised his baby girl.
"No, papá. Sabes por qué no puedo salir, (No, Daddy. You know why I can't go out there,)" I shake my head. He walks over me and caresses my cheeks, then leans down to kiss my forehead.
"Sí, entiendo la razón por la que crees que no puedes salir al escenario, mi preciosa hija, (Yes, I understand the reason why you believe you can't go out on stage, my precious daughter,)" he replied looking into my eyes. "Pero, hay dos razones, igual de importantes, por las que deberías ..., (But, there are two reasons, equally important, why you should...)" he added. I looked up curious, "En primer lugar, Vegas nunca dejó que otros pagan por nuestros errores, (First, Vegas never let others pay for our mistakes,) he said, looking back over at Trina, "y, en segundo lugar, usted ha ocultado usted lejos durante demasiado tiempo, Tori, (and, second, you have hidden yourself away for too long, Tori)" he said in a concerned voice. "Has escondido tu luz debajo de un arbusto, y pesó mucho sobre ti, (You have hidden your light under a bush, and it has weighed heavy on you,)" he said with determined eyes, "my daughters have always been meant to shine, honey," my papa said returning to English, "I believe it is time for you to come out into the light again, Tori."
André remained there for the entire exchange, but I ignored him as I look down and lean my forehead against my father's chest. I began thinking about what daddy said to me, we Vegas have a great sense of honor, that my father has tried to instill in me and my sister. We take pride in our family, and set great store in meeting the world with our heads held high. Its why I got so mad at Carly Shay, over what she was perceived to have said about hurting my grandma. Luckily, we cleared that up before I made her dental bill higher than normal, I shuddered when I remembered that creepy boy, Nevel. Now, with Trina's screw up, the honor of our family was at stake.
If that wasn't enough to get me to do it, what dad said about hiding my light, was the kicker. I had thought I was doing good, transitioning back into Tori Vega, I was enjoying just going to school like a normal kid. Going to class, not having to wake up at four in the morning to begin training for my next bout, before going to a tutoring session so I can get an education. I still train like I'm about to face my next opponent, but now I get up at 5 am, and train after school too. I even had a boyfriend for a couple of months, before I ended it because I felt guilty for not trusting him enough to tell him about my past.
My father has obviously seen my behavior in a different light than I have. In many ways dad knows me, and Trina better than we know ourselves, he trained both of us in our family's martial arts styles, so it was no surprise that he has observed something about me that I didn't realize was happening. He said, I have been hiding my light under a bush, a quote from the Bible, meaning he believes The Lord was calling me to this opportunity. The thing is, I enjoyed helping Trina with the song she was supposed to sing tonight. While sitting in the audience I was wondering if I could do what they were doing, bring joy and happiness, instead of right hooks and roundhouses to entertain people.
That's when I had an epiphany, one that shocked me to my core and I realized what dad meant, it wasn't the fights that I loved about CFC, it was the spotlight that I craved. My eyes suddenly filled with joy, I stepped back and lunged, throwing my arms around my father, and kissing his cheek. I stepped back and whirled around grabbing André's hands, "I'll do it!"