Los Jóvenes y el Agitado

After Carmen got Soledad back to the infirmary, she had to wait outside while the doctors did their thing, giving the newcomer a checkover. From what they’d told her, it didn’t seem like any major damage was done, but they had to be sure. Had to be careful. When it came to King, caution was a must. She didn’t mind, really. Carmen needed a moment to think.

She pulled up a chair and sat outside the office, staring at the 24/7 Belt in her lap, with only the occasional glance up when one of the crewmembers walked by. She traced her finger around the edge of it, weird looking thing that it was. Carmen couldn’t imagine too many belt had the face of a clock, after all, and she was willing to bet not many of them had a dent from where they’d been slammed against someone’s head.

There it was, hanging right on the edge of the belt. It wasn’t a big dent, barely bigger than a dime. Easily fixed. Carmen was a bit more concerned with what had made it in the first place: King’s skull. The head of a man that probably wasn’t going to let this sort of thing go.

She’d heard the horror stories about King before she even joined the AFW. She’d thought they were just that: stories. Exaggerations. Stuff that wrestlers told other wrestlers to keep them up at night. She’d seen a lot of that when she hung around her father’s gym. Chest-thumping, trying to scare the newcomers with war stories to put a little fear in their blood. Nothing new.

But it wasn’t fake with King. This nightmare was very real in Tension, and Soledad was just the latest one to experience it.

Carmen brought her hand to her head and groaned, thinking it over. King was persistent, and while he was a stupid, stupid man, he had a long memory. He’d come after her again, and she wasn’t worried about that. She could handle him, she was sure of that. Her main concern was with Vega. She had a lot of potential, but she had a lot of problems, too. If she was to survive an attack from the beast again, those gaps would need closing.

Right as Carmen was thinking this, the door to the infirmary opened and the doctors came out, taking a cart of their tools with them. One of them gave Carmen a quick nod on the way out, which meant that Soledad was good enough to be spoken with, something that she was increasingly eager to do.

Carmen slung the belt over her shoulder, stood up and poked her head into the infirmary through a crack in the door. ”Perdóneme, senorita.” She gave the door jamb a quick knock. ”How are you feeling?”

Soledad had registered nothing, as she was rushed backstage. The young latina fighter could only register vague sensations: the arena lights, the sounds of the crowd. Voices alternatively cheering and booing the timely rescue of the fighter, who had been just seconds away from having her career severely shortened. The general sensation of the strong figure, carrying her to the back.

Even as she'd been passed over to medical staff and situated in recovery, Soledad took awhile to really start to get her bearings. The sounds of doctors talking over her condition, nurses getting her situated in bed. Laid out under a thin blanket, a thick pillow situated under her neck for support. With the doctor checking over her pupils, and the nurses laying out a tray of light pain relievers and water, Sola began to shift restlessly. They asked her perfunctory questions, about where she was, who she was. She felt disconnected, but her answers seemed to satisfy them. When she shrugged off their attempts at further conversation, they seemed to be willing to leave her alone. Sola stared them down, as they took their leave.

The latina scowled, and tried to sit up. The sharp pain in her neck made her rethink that, settling back down onto the bed with a frown. "Hnn," she hissed, "god dammit ..." Reconstructing events in her mind, her mood only darkened. She'd had it all in hand, she thought to herself: big AFW debut, with a win over one of the biggest, baddest men in the whole league. It hadn't been easy, and it was close as hell, but it was still her win. Her victory, her glory. And all of that had been snatched away from her.

In fact, King had kind of humiliated her, after it was all said and done. Nailed her from behind, planted her with a King's Throne, and went awful damn close to finishing her off while all she could do was roll around on the mat looking weak. The record books would show she'd gone out of the ring victorious, but how did it look to the fans in attendance?

Feeling hot, Sola threw the blanket off. She still couldn't get herself up off the pillow, but she could at least reach for the water. And then, she wasn't alone in the room again. The voice made her pause, trying to see if she could place it. "Stupendous," she said, irritation coming through loud and clear in her voice. "Best night of my life." Sola winced as she stared at the door, trying hard to place the face. Maybe not all of the pieces were all quite put together, just yet. "Who the hell are you?" she asked, voice bleary and tired.

Carmen stepped in and looked around, taking in the scene. Beige walls. Very beige. A painting that looked like a random splotch of colors. Probably trying to put the patient in a relaxed state, but with Soledad, it clearly was not working.

”Yeah, I bet. Got real tough out there.” Carmen had a quick sigh as she ran the events through her head. ”Sorry about that. It never should’ve happened.”

Carmen turned her attention and handed her the bottle of water she was reaching for, passing it as she shifted the 24/7 title on her shoulder. Time for introductions.

”Carmen.” She managed a soft smile, trying to keep things as light as possible. ”Carmen Rodriguez. Glad to meet another lady from home.” She extended her hand, looking for a quick shake. ”Welcome to Japan.”

Soledad quirked an eyebrow, as the new woman entered the room. At first, there was something familiar about her. Something that brought up half-formed memories of her time out in the ring. The woman had been out there, Sola was able to piece that much together.

Sola eyeballed the title belt slung around Carmen's shoulder, as she accepted the water bottle. "Yeah, well, 'never shoulda happened' happens a lot, in the ring," she said. There was a bitter note in her voice. "Never should have let my damn guard down, that's all."

Soledad quirked an eyebrow, though, as the stranger introduced herself. Carmen's name was one that got tossed around a lot, in the Puerto Rican scene. Socal girl done good, her and her brother were practically legends in the eyes of her peers and friends. And right there, slung over her shoulder, was the 24/7 title that was part of that legend. Sola slipped from her water bottle, face flushed, a bit, avoiding eye contact with Carmen as she made her introduction.

"Yeah, hey," she said, finally, leaning back and settling on the bed. "So, what brings out in here, Miss Carmen Rodriquez? 'Cuz if you're just part of the Japanese welcome party, I think I had enough of that out there, when that bastardo enmascarada tried handing me my ass out there ..."

Carmen let her hand hang out there for a moment, looking for a shake that never came. She pulled it back, tried not to read too much into it, but there was a little tension in the air. She didn’t think it completely came from nearly being snapped in two by a psycho wearing a leopard mask, either.

It wasn't a surprise when Soledad’s eyes went to the belt. While Carmen wasn't the type to show off too much, it was required that she carry the belt around whenever possible, especially when she was the arena. The title had to be ready to change hands in every meaning of the words.

”You were having a moment, got a little taken with the crowd. Happens. Nothing wrong with it.” Carmen sat the belt aside on a nearby chair. ”And King’s stealthier than he looks.”

Vega’s tongue was a bit sharp for her tastes, but really, Carmen was glad to be speaking with someone else who had a familiar accent. She’d gotten used to Japan, didn't hate it, but have a little more of home wouldn’t hurt. Vega was probably feeling about the same.

”Just Carmen’s fine, Miss Soledad Vega.” Carmen leaned against the door, making some distance between them. ”And I don’t know about a welcoming party, but I thought we could talk. Read a little about you and your father while your match was going on - you’ve got a lot of talent, with some pedigree on top. What brought you all the way out here?”

Soledad pouted a bit, and settled down into the bed. She glanced away, self-consciously, as Carmen reacted to her. Sola had been caught staring, and she knew it. She hated this, flat on her back in bed, unable to do more than just seethe while the Carmen Effing Rodriguez was standing there with the 24/7 title. What the hell kind of first impression was she going to make, all gimped like this?

"That crowd was eating it up," Sola said, turning her face to the other wall. "Guess they never saw something like that before, huh?" She put a bit more emphasis on that 'huh' than seemed necessary.

Turning back, Soledad set her jaw. "So, Miss Carmen Rodriguez, 24/7 Champion, what would you like to talk about? Because if you've been doing some reading, then there's not gonna be much more I can tell you about my papi that you won't already know. And as for my talent," her eyes narrowed, a bit, "I already know plenty about that. You got something to tell me about it, though," Sola lifted her head, winced in pain, and put it back down, "I'm not going anywhere ..."

Soledad’s attitude here wasn’t exactly unexpected. If anything, this conversation was going a bit more pleasant than she’d hoped. From what she could gather off Wikipedia - always a reliable source - Vega had run into some trouble with a controversial match, and she was considered by some to be a stain on the family name.

Carmen thought talking about it might’ve helped to clear some air between them. Apparently, she was wrong. It was worth it to keep going, though.

”Something like that.” Carmen hunched forward, elbows on knees. [color=#400000]”You have a lot of talent, I can tell that right away. You move fast, you hit hard, you have pretty good instincts and you’re in great shape.”[color]

Carmen held up a finger. ”But. But.” That finger turned into a cautious hand. ”You’re rough. You need a hand. The AFW can be a tough place to settle into, especially if you’re in Tension, and especially if you’re a woman in Tension. I haven’t been here too long, but I’ve seen plenty of women come and go. Fizzle out after a few months of bad losses and pack it up.”

Carmen brought that finger down and pointed it Soledad’s way. ”That doesn’t have to be you.”

Even with the stiffness in her neck, Soledad tried to nod along with Carmen's speech in a 'heard it all before' manner. Her face was still visibly reddened, as she lay back and ruminated on how she would have wanted this encounter to go down under any other possible circumstances.

Sola kept herself looking flippant, as Carmen said her piece. The odd eye roll, blowing her hair back with single gusts of breath. She even tried to run her fingers down each side of her abs, when Carmen commented on her being 'in great shape.' Sola didn't know if any of this was coming off as cool and collected as she wanted, but it was worth the effort.

"Bit rough, huh?" Soledad said, finally. "So, what's your answer to that, then? You going to help 'smooth me out,' are you?" As she talked, Sola found her face flushing, but in a different way. Getting a bit hotter, she continued. "Going to help the skanky little street chica get rid of all those nasty, rough edges, till she's a fit and pretty fighter, huh? Somebody daddy can be proud of? Somebody that gets to carry around a big fancy belt, that what you're pitching me?"

Carmen was a patient woman. She liked to think so, anyway. It had taken patience to get to where she was as a woman’s boxer in a male dominated field, it had taken patience to learn wrestling on top of boxing, and it had taken patience - extraordinary patience - to babysit Army and change his dirty diapers.

But her patience has limits. And getting smart-mouthed by someone who was a fetus when Carmen was having her first matches? That was pushing those limits.

”Pájaro bebé.”Carmen took a moment to consider her next words. ”You're hearing, but you're not listening.” Carmen rubbed her eyes and leaned back, allowing an annoyed grunt to slip through her veneer. There was some growing base in her voice, and she was caring less and less about hiding it. ”You're talented, but talent’s only getting you so far when you're giving up thirty, forty, one hundred pounds to some guy you're fighting. Yeah, you're rough, but everyone starts out that way. You just need some help, and there's nothing wrong with needing help .”

Carmen noted that she was pointing at Soledad with her mother’s finger. That was worrying.

Soledad's skin was reddening and burning hotter and hotter with every word that went between the two of them. Bit by bit, the pressure she felt at meeting someone who'd been a big name, a legit one in her eyes, was lifting. Replaced by wounded pride, and anger.

"OH?" she asked, voice rising. Sola began to lift her head off the bracing pillow. It forced her to wince in pain, but she pushed through. She could use that pain. "And what kind of help are you
going to suggest, abuela? Bit bad Carmen Rodriguez going to save the poor little street rat, huh?

"Tell me more, por favor!" Sola continued, swinging one leg over the edge of the bed. She had no aims to actually get up, and no idea what she'd try to do, if she actually got out of bed. Still, the fiesty latina teen was on a roll. "So, tell me, Miss Carmen Rodriguez, how do you propose to help, huh? Watch me work out? Make sure I say my prayers and eat my vitamins? Or do you have something a bit more ... hands on, in mind?"