In another place, in another time, I was just a simple little kid with a dream. My parents couldn't afford to send me to a private school, so I wasted away in the public school system in my hometown, heavily de-funded by "No Child Left Behind". The resources simply weren't there, and in this world and time, no college degree wasn't going to get me any spectacular job.

I didn't have any marketable work skills, or was I a particularly dedicated workhorse. My attitude of always trying to have fun and make pop cultural references didn't endear me to the working stiffs in the monkey suits, so most interviews and resume-building sessions were failing affairs.

Beef and Quesa brought me into Taco Bell and introduced me to Eggers. That pencil-necked geek might be a pain in the ass, but he's the one who got me started at the job that allowed me to achieve my dream. Without it, I doubt I'd have made it this long without going completely insane.

It was 2004, and the three of us were attending an independent show. A guy named Nacho Grande was performing that night, and when he came out to New Kids on the Block's "Hangin' Tough", I was instantly drawn to his quirky personality and overt geekiness. We went back to the show every month for almost two years, and each time I would talk to Nacho. He would never take off his mask or break character, and he encouraged me to attend the training facility that was located only a few blocks from my Taco Bell.

Training was absolutely brutal, especially coupling it with 40-plus hours a week standing on my feet. I loved my day job, but it sapped my energy. I would then spend three hours a night getting thrown for every move in the book, but the one I could never perfect was the arm drag. No matter how many times I tried it, it didn't come out right. I figured something was wrong with me, as this was supposed to be such a simple move, but I had to change it to a Japanese arm drag just to make it work.

It was May of 2006, and Nacho Grande came out for his regularly scheduled match. I'd been in training for several months, and was getting noticed by the staff. Not so much for my technical ability, but for making everyone else laugh when I cut promos. That's the big secret that everyone would know in future years. No matter how good of a wrestler I would become, it would be the laughter that would ensue for which I would be remembered.

Nacho hopped to the floor from the ring apron, and his knee went out. Hopping on one foot the whole way to the back, I knew something wasn't right. A few seconds later, my trainer came out and grabbed me, yanking me back behind the gorilla position. I saw Nacho's face for the first time, and realized he was about twenty years older than I expected. He wasn't the glamorous young superstar I had always pictured him to be, but a broken down, mediocre-looking guy who looked like he worked at Wal-Mart.

Before I had the chance to analyze the situation, he handed me his mask. "I'm done, kid," he told me. In my hand, I held an orange mask, under which I had placed my hopes and dreams as a wrestling fan turned wrestler wannabe. Everything I idolized about the business was now a leather keepsake just slipping between my fingers, useless, powerless.

"Hey kid, you've been training, right?" The guy next to my trainer was looking me up and down like Chris Hansen on a mad pussy hunt. "He's about Nacho's size. Hey kid, put the mask on."

I shrugged and pulled the sweaty orange mask over my face. Wearing my Taco Bell shirt and Superman pajamas, it was definitely not the most intimidating wrestling outfit ever assembled, but they were desperate. A tag team match had just begun, and nobody wanted to believe that the great Nacho Grande wouldn't be a part of it.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Go be me, but you," the former Nacho instructed. "I'm passing my legacy to you, but make it your own."

I hit the curtain and nearly tangled myself in it, and when the crowd saw me returning, they went BANANA! Obviously assuming that the real Nacho just had a wardrobe change, nobody really thought twice about it. A few seconds later, I was tagged in, and the guy Nacho was facing came running at me. I threw an arm drag, and it was perfect. He charged me again, and I hit an arm drag even better than the second one. The third time was the charm, because I hit the arm drag, didn't let go, cradled it into an armbar, and won the match. What did everyone remember about it? My pajama bottoms.

I now sit here in the locker room, Iron Man pajamas decorating my heavily bruised legs. Feeling like Tony Stark and being rather isolated due to my own actions and obsessions, Living a Legacy seemed like a long journey finally concluding with a lonely ending, regardless of the outcome. It was then that I heard a familiar voice this way comes.

"Mr. Grande," the voice of... Jeff? Really? Jeff was talking to me? He emerged with an eye-patch and a badass suit. "I'm here to talk to you about the Chipotle Initiative."

...

Enclosed in a dark room, a small light soon lit up my chest. It shone bright enough to allow me to observe the costume I was now wearing. Red and gold through and through, someone had given me a tights version of the Iron Man get-up. There was something inherently awesome about this.

Another light emerged on the other side of the room. This one was in the shape of a star. "It's been a long night," the star-figure proclaimed. It was the voice of Zoey, and I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

"Been a few decades since you've been around, Mr. Rogers?"

"It's Captain Zoey to you, Nacho," Captain Zoey walked into full illumination in his Captain America costume.

"Where the hell have you been?" I demanded.

"We've all been trying to figure out what to do with you, Nacho! You're off in your own little world, obsessed with the parody that went wrong. I get it, but you went way off the deep end, and we had to do something about it," Captain Zoey explained.

"So you taught Jeff some new words, had everyone kidnap me, stripped me... Oh god, you didn't give me a roofie, did you?"

"Contrary to popular belief, DnD nerds don't fuck anything they're allowed to touch," Captain Zoey snarked. "We knew this was the only way we could get a hold of you and bring out the real Nacho, because that's the only way you're going to have a chance against the two best that PCW has to offer."

"And why should I believe that? The old Nacho didn't get world title shots. The old Nacho wasn't recognized and given what he wanted. This Nacho is in the main event of possibly the biggest Pay-Per-View in PCW history."

"But you got there by being yourself," the voice of Beef Supreme emerged. A long flowing blonde wig peered out of his mask, and he held a giant inflatable hammer in his hand.

"A blow-up hammer, really Thor Supreme?" Zoey muttered.

"I work at Taco Bell, it was the best I could afford," Thor Supreme snapped. He then turned in my direction. "We all know you were justified to react the way you did, but we also know that you are loved because you are Nacho Grande. Not because you're the super serious guy who takes everything obsessively. You are Nacho Grande, the Master of Parody, and the best friend any of us have ever had."

"QUESA SMASH!" Hulka Dilla slid into the room in a fully green version of his usual outfit. "And we know you couldn't do this alone, for the evil of LoKi has transformed you into something dark and unrecognizable."

"Hey, how about that, we don't even have to change his name for this," Thor Supreme remarked.

"Then it was meant to be," I stated in a tone I hadn't used in some time.

"Finally, you all have figured it out." Jeff Fury walked in the middle of all of us, silently applauding our actions. Everyone else stared at him unbelievably, but having been recruited as such, the shock factor had worn off.

"I still haven't figured out how you got me here," I laughed.

"That was me," Agent Snuggy Coulson popped up in the background. "I told you guys, a Snuggy is a terrible thing to waste."

"It is time to accept the Chipotle Initiative," Jeff Fury announced.

"Why is it called the Chipotle Initiative?" asked Thor Supreme. "We all work at Taco Bell."

"The same reason they didn't call the Manhattan Project the Albuquerue Experiment, genius," Jeff slammed the stupid question in return. "Great care had to be taken to arrange this, and with Nacho's recent instability, we had to make sure that even he didn't suspect it."

I looked at my friends, and looked down at my suit once again. In the red and gold, I suddenly saw the flannel Superman pajamas, barely gripping my legs as I threw that first arm drag. I saw the original Nacho, grimacing in pain as his wrestling career was over and he knew it. I knew he would be sitting front row at Living a Legacy IV. I knew he was never able to walk without a limp again. And I know he'd been following my career ever since the legacy of the Nacho Grande name was passed on to me. The way I'd acted since LoKi's betrayal was effective, but it was no longer acceptable. It was time for a change, and what better way to do it than winning the world title.

"Jeff Fury, assemble the Taco Bellers. We're going to win a world championship."

A huge cheer went up among my friends, and we all walked side by side out of the room as an epic, enhanced version of "Hangin' Tough" played us out. In my mind, I once more saw the original Nacho's face, smiling and nodding at my actions. Once more, I looked forward, and anticipated the eyes of Thor Supreme's evil demigod brother, LoKi. Lantlas was not a concern of mine, for my true vengeance lay with the one who committed the ultimate betrayal months ago, and it was time to lay that downtown street fight to full scale warfare.

"Mr. Nacho," Jeff Fury noted, "I do believe you have entered your new element."

I laughed, and looked back as I pressed the light button for the Iron Man mask eyes. "Yes, and I'm about to add gold to the collection."