Post by LAZERADE! on Sept 23, 2015 6:18:49 GMT -6
Note: Do me a favour, and just assume that all speech in this is in Spanish. It’ll save us both a lot of time.
As he stepped off the bus, he instantly felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Only a dozen or so miles away from San Diego, there was a quality to the Mexican sun that was… different, to the sun in the US. Hotter, probably. More intense. Or maybe that was just the weight on his mind. Adjusting the weight of the bag on his shoulder, Robbie Rodríguez, the young man better known to many fans of (R)Evolution Wrestling as Explosivo, eyed the exit of the bus terminal, before taking a few shaky steps forward, his legs still waking up from the long bus ride. However, a few shaky steps is all he needed, before a voice stopped him dead, chilling the blood in his veins.
?: Roberto.
Rapid calculations fired in his brain, synapses firing at incredible speed. Roberto. A common enough name, especially down here. Might not be him. The voice though. Familiar. Very familiar. Not good. Voice is female. That reduces the options. Young sounding. Further reductions. Leaves… maybe 3 options. Accent definitely Mexican, not Brazilian. 2 options. Please be the good option. He turned. His heart sank. The woman stood before him, one of his elder sisters, is clearly not the one he hoped to see. Her hair was dark, her make-up also dark, her clothing… minimal. She was seemingly oblivious of the stares of the individuals swarming around the pair in the terminal.
Robbie: Oh. Um, hi, Rosa.
She smiled. His mind flashed back. The years stripped away, and he was back home, sat in the living room, playing with his action figures. Back to a time when that smile was his world. The youngest of an… extensive family, he remembered when his sister, only a few years older than him, was the caring, doting face of the mother he never knew. He remembered never being happier than when he saw that smile. And as quickly as he was dragged back to his childhood, he’s brought back, as she steped forward, looking to place a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, he pulled away, spurning the contact. In a split second, the smile drew cold, the light in her eyes fading in resignation. He felt a stab, of what? Of guilt? He’s not sure.
Rosa: Roberto…
The hurt she felt was palpable. He could feel it. Could taste it. It took everything he had not to break down there and then, to beg her forgiveness. He could remember a time when he would have done just that. But not today. After everything he had seen, only a few hours ago, not today. He reflected on how much she had changed in those scant few hours. Her hair already darkened. Her attire… reduced, seemingly. He shook his head. Stay strong, Roberto.
Robbie: How did you know I was going to be here, Rosa? And more so… why are you here?
Rosa: Roberto, you announced your plans on Twitter. It’s hardly the most covert of communication methods. And as for the other…
She seemed genuinely conflicted for a moment. She looked away as she spoke.
Rosa: Family should always be there to greet family when they come home. And you’re my brother. I wanted to be the one to greet you.
Sorrow and anger fought in him, his anger at his family’s antics duelling with the memories of good times with his sister.
Robbie: … How is father?
The anger was instantly apparent on his sister’s face.
Rosa: Is that it, Roberto? Really? Truly? Do I now mean so little to you, that when you see me for the first time in years, you can only ask about your father?
“Your” father. Interesting turn of phrase. He ignored it, filed it for later.
Robbie: Rosa, I am not interested in having this fight right now, and especially not in a bus station. Unless you forget, OUR father was attacked only hours ago, by a man who I have never seen before, seemingly under orders from OUR brother. OUR father is not a young man, and I am concerned for him. Aren’t you?
The hurt, once more, is palpable. The uncertainty flashed across her eyes.
Rosa: I… I don’t know.
Robbie: You don’t know? Or don’t care?
Anger. So much anger. More even than before.
Rosa: I don’t care? I DON’T CARE? DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE HERE IF I DID NOT CARE? WHAT ABOUT YOUR BROTHERS? YOUR OTHER SISTER? DO THEY CARE? THEY’RE NOT HERE, ROBERTO! Fuck you, Roberto. Just… fuck you.
Guilt.
Robbie: Rosa, I…
She ignored him.
Rosa: I do not know, Roberto, because no-one knows. He is missing. Sometime after the cameras stopped, he… was gone.
Confusion.
Robbie: What do you mean, nobody knows? Someone must.
Rosa: No. Nobody knows.
Robbie: Well? Why aren’t you searching? Who is looking?
Rosa shrugs.
Rosa: I don’t know. Crash has been setting up for his biker friends to arrive. Our sister has been fighting with her husband, understandably. As for daddy’s favourite… who knows.
Robbie: I have to go…
He moved. Even quicker than he could run, however, her hand gripped his forearm. The grip was strong… far stronger than he remembered.
Robbie: Let me go… I have to find him.
Rosa: Roberto… listen. When I said I wanted to be the one to greet you… that’s because there was a choice. He wanted to send the twins.
His blood ran cold. Where he’d been fighting her grip, he suddenly went limp.
Robbie: Rosa…
Rosa: Roberto. If there was another way, I would. But it’s not possible.
She moved her head subtly, indicating a jet black town car parked to the side of the terminal. He knew that car. His father’s car. Not the family car, the one they went shopping in, the one he drove him to soccer practice in. This was his father’s car. The one that would drive to the house, and collect his father in the middle of the night. The one that would come to the soccer game late, ushering his father, full of remorseful words.
Robbie: Father’s…
Rosa: Not anymore.
Slowly, almost motherly, she guided him towards the town car, through the throng of people. He tried to resist. Mentally, he did, at least, although his body, weak, was seemingly unable to. As they reached the door, she opened it. He glanced to her, imploring her not to… and she stared back, seemingly apologetically? And then he was in the car, his bag taken off of him as he entered. And it was moving. In the shadows opposite him, the glow of a large, Cuban cigar lightly illuminated the silver edging of a pitch black mask. The words spoken by the darkness were almost spat out, as if the speaker found the words distasteful.
Miedo: Explosivo.
He looked away from the shadow.
Miedo: You can not run, Explosivo. For once in your life, there is nowhere to run.
He stared back into the darkness.
Robbie: Jo-
Miedo: Stop.
Silence.
Miedo: I. Am. Miedo.
Robbie: No, you are Jo-
Miedo: I. AM. MIEDO.
Robbie: What, you think you’re too good for names now? Have you grown that insane?
The speck of light flared a moment, as the shadow drew on his cigar.
Miedo: I disinherited that name, when father disinherited me. You will not disrespect me by using it. Understand?
He scowled. He regretted it instantly.
Miedo: Explosivo…
Robbie: My name is Roberto!
Miedo: Explosivo, this is a time of upheaval for our family. Father chose his heir. His heir… was found wanting. The family has decided. Your brother’s foolish “ascent” is over. And now, we enter a new era. My question to you is… where do you stand? Do you stand with me? With the majority of your family? With your sister?
The pang of guilt as he realises he spoke of Rosa.
Miedo: Or do you stand with them? With the psychopath? With the egotist? With the whelp?
He looked to the floor.
Robbie: No.
The cigar flared.
Miedo: Excellent. I’m glad you see…
Robbie: Jo-… Mie-… Brother. You do not understand. I do not stand with either of you. This petty squabble between you and Pe… our brother has gone too far. It threatens the family. It threatens the company our father built for us. It seemingly has already claimed our father. And I will be no part of it, do you understand? You ask if I stand with you or him? Well I say neither. I stand with my family. I stand with my father.
Silence. Only the occasional flare of the cigar. The car drew to a halt. The door opened.
Miedo: So be it.
And he was outside. Back at the bus terminal. His bag at his feet. The car already departing. Rosa nowhere to be seen. He looked down. A ticket was placed on the top of his bag. He inspected it closely… “Destination: San Diego”. He turned it over. Just one word on the back.
“Adiós”.
His sister’s flowing handwriting as obvious as anything, he clenched the ticket in his fist. The bus due for the morning. No family. No home. He’d have to find a hotel for the night, before returning the San Diego.
Alone.
A man, without family, without a home.
El Orfanato.
As he stepped off the bus, he instantly felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Only a dozen or so miles away from San Diego, there was a quality to the Mexican sun that was… different, to the sun in the US. Hotter, probably. More intense. Or maybe that was just the weight on his mind. Adjusting the weight of the bag on his shoulder, Robbie Rodríguez, the young man better known to many fans of (R)Evolution Wrestling as Explosivo, eyed the exit of the bus terminal, before taking a few shaky steps forward, his legs still waking up from the long bus ride. However, a few shaky steps is all he needed, before a voice stopped him dead, chilling the blood in his veins.
?: Roberto.Rapid calculations fired in his brain, synapses firing at incredible speed. Roberto. A common enough name, especially down here. Might not be him. The voice though. Familiar. Very familiar. Not good. Voice is female. That reduces the options. Young sounding. Further reductions. Leaves… maybe 3 options. Accent definitely Mexican, not Brazilian. 2 options. Please be the good option. He turned. His heart sank. The woman stood before him, one of his elder sisters, is clearly not the one he hoped to see. Her hair was dark, her make-up also dark, her clothing… minimal. She was seemingly oblivious of the stares of the individuals swarming around the pair in the terminal.
Robbie: Oh. Um, hi, Rosa.
She smiled. His mind flashed back. The years stripped away, and he was back home, sat in the living room, playing with his action figures. Back to a time when that smile was his world. The youngest of an… extensive family, he remembered when his sister, only a few years older than him, was the caring, doting face of the mother he never knew. He remembered never being happier than when he saw that smile. And as quickly as he was dragged back to his childhood, he’s brought back, as she steped forward, looking to place a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, he pulled away, spurning the contact. In a split second, the smile drew cold, the light in her eyes fading in resignation. He felt a stab, of what? Of guilt? He’s not sure.
Rosa: Roberto…
The hurt she felt was palpable. He could feel it. Could taste it. It took everything he had not to break down there and then, to beg her forgiveness. He could remember a time when he would have done just that. But not today. After everything he had seen, only a few hours ago, not today. He reflected on how much she had changed in those scant few hours. Her hair already darkened. Her attire… reduced, seemingly. He shook his head. Stay strong, Roberto.
Robbie: How did you know I was going to be here, Rosa? And more so… why are you here?
Rosa: Roberto, you announced your plans on Twitter. It’s hardly the most covert of communication methods. And as for the other…
She seemed genuinely conflicted for a moment. She looked away as she spoke.
Rosa: Family should always be there to greet family when they come home. And you’re my brother. I wanted to be the one to greet you.
Sorrow and anger fought in him, his anger at his family’s antics duelling with the memories of good times with his sister.
Robbie: … How is father?
The anger was instantly apparent on his sister’s face.
Rosa: Is that it, Roberto? Really? Truly? Do I now mean so little to you, that when you see me for the first time in years, you can only ask about your father?
“Your” father. Interesting turn of phrase. He ignored it, filed it for later.
Robbie: Rosa, I am not interested in having this fight right now, and especially not in a bus station. Unless you forget, OUR father was attacked only hours ago, by a man who I have never seen before, seemingly under orders from OUR brother. OUR father is not a young man, and I am concerned for him. Aren’t you?
The hurt, once more, is palpable. The uncertainty flashed across her eyes.
Rosa: I… I don’t know.
Robbie: You don’t know? Or don’t care?
Anger. So much anger. More even than before.
Rosa: I don’t care? I DON’T CARE? DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE HERE IF I DID NOT CARE? WHAT ABOUT YOUR BROTHERS? YOUR OTHER SISTER? DO THEY CARE? THEY’RE NOT HERE, ROBERTO! Fuck you, Roberto. Just… fuck you.
Guilt.
Robbie: Rosa, I…
She ignored him.
Rosa: I do not know, Roberto, because no-one knows. He is missing. Sometime after the cameras stopped, he… was gone.
Confusion.
Robbie: What do you mean, nobody knows? Someone must.
Rosa: No. Nobody knows.
Robbie: Well? Why aren’t you searching? Who is looking?
Rosa shrugs.
Rosa: I don’t know. Crash has been setting up for his biker friends to arrive. Our sister has been fighting with her husband, understandably. As for daddy’s favourite… who knows.
Robbie: I have to go…
He moved. Even quicker than he could run, however, her hand gripped his forearm. The grip was strong… far stronger than he remembered.
Robbie: Let me go… I have to find him.
Rosa: Roberto… listen. When I said I wanted to be the one to greet you… that’s because there was a choice. He wanted to send the twins.
His blood ran cold. Where he’d been fighting her grip, he suddenly went limp.
Robbie: Rosa…
Rosa: Roberto. If there was another way, I would. But it’s not possible.
She moved her head subtly, indicating a jet black town car parked to the side of the terminal. He knew that car. His father’s car. Not the family car, the one they went shopping in, the one he drove him to soccer practice in. This was his father’s car. The one that would drive to the house, and collect his father in the middle of the night. The one that would come to the soccer game late, ushering his father, full of remorseful words.
Robbie: Father’s…
Rosa: Not anymore.
Slowly, almost motherly, she guided him towards the town car, through the throng of people. He tried to resist. Mentally, he did, at least, although his body, weak, was seemingly unable to. As they reached the door, she opened it. He glanced to her, imploring her not to… and she stared back, seemingly apologetically? And then he was in the car, his bag taken off of him as he entered. And it was moving. In the shadows opposite him, the glow of a large, Cuban cigar lightly illuminated the silver edging of a pitch black mask. The words spoken by the darkness were almost spat out, as if the speaker found the words distasteful.
Miedo: Explosivo.
He looked away from the shadow.
Miedo: You can not run, Explosivo. For once in your life, there is nowhere to run.
He stared back into the darkness.
Robbie: Jo-
Miedo: Stop.
Silence.
Miedo: I. Am. Miedo.
Robbie: No, you are Jo-
Miedo: I. AM. MIEDO.
Robbie: What, you think you’re too good for names now? Have you grown that insane?
The speck of light flared a moment, as the shadow drew on his cigar.
Miedo: I disinherited that name, when father disinherited me. You will not disrespect me by using it. Understand?
He scowled. He regretted it instantly.
Miedo: Explosivo…
Robbie: My name is Roberto!
Miedo: Explosivo, this is a time of upheaval for our family. Father chose his heir. His heir… was found wanting. The family has decided. Your brother’s foolish “ascent” is over. And now, we enter a new era. My question to you is… where do you stand? Do you stand with me? With the majority of your family? With your sister?
The pang of guilt as he realises he spoke of Rosa.
Miedo: Or do you stand with them? With the psychopath? With the egotist? With the whelp?
He looked to the floor.
Robbie: No.
The cigar flared.
Miedo: Excellent. I’m glad you see…
Robbie: Jo-… Mie-… Brother. You do not understand. I do not stand with either of you. This petty squabble between you and Pe… our brother has gone too far. It threatens the family. It threatens the company our father built for us. It seemingly has already claimed our father. And I will be no part of it, do you understand? You ask if I stand with you or him? Well I say neither. I stand with my family. I stand with my father.
Silence. Only the occasional flare of the cigar. The car drew to a halt. The door opened.
Miedo: So be it.
And he was outside. Back at the bus terminal. His bag at his feet. The car already departing. Rosa nowhere to be seen. He looked down. A ticket was placed on the top of his bag. He inspected it closely… “Destination: San Diego”. He turned it over. Just one word on the back.
“Adiós”.
His sister’s flowing handwriting as obvious as anything, he clenched the ticket in his fist. The bus due for the morning. No family. No home. He’d have to find a hotel for the night, before returning the San Diego.
Alone.
A man, without family, without a home.
El Orfanato.
