Alberto's laying behind the table, referees immediately swarming him, when he hears something that somehow sounds both far away and really close all at once, desperate screams of pain that revives him more quickly than a bucket of ice water splashed over him ever could've. Stumbling to his feet, he fights dizziness and soreness, pushing through the few referees who hadn't mysteriously disappeared from his side when the horrible yells had begun, his body resting against the cool support of the post. He can just see the area of the ring near the ramp, where all of the referees are at, and he thinks that's where Ricardo had...
Everything clicks into place and all of his own pain becomes meaningless as he pushes himself away from the post and forces himself the rest of the way to the ramp, stopping short when he finds his pale ring announcer leaning against the ring, screaming at the referees not to touch his leg. Alberto is only frozen for a moment before he rushes into action, kneeling down- completely ignoring the stab of pain up his knee- and grabbing his best friend, trying to comfort him with soft murmurs in Spanish, allow the referees to do what they need to do. He's still out of it from how roughly he'd been handled as well, not wanting to even think about what Swagger more than likely did to Ricardo's ankle while he was out of sight. He cups Ricardo's face, squeezes his hand, whatever he can think to do to try to comfort the younger man. "Let them work, just breathe, por favor, amigo-" He's not sure if his words are cutting through the haze of pain Ricardo's lost in or not, but continues trying, only reluctantly moving aside when the emergency staff prepares to move him onto the stretcher they'd rolled in.
His heart sinks as he watches Ricardo try to hold back further cries of pain, biting his knuckle, pressing his fingers to his lips in a praying motion once he's settled. Struggling to keep up with the stretcher as they guide it to the back, he rests a hand by the ring announcer's head, wanting to make his presence felt in one way or another. When they finally come to a stop in the trainer's office, some of the crowd disperses, giving Alberto more room to move around in, and he walks around so he can look the younger man in the eye. "Oh, amigo," he breathes out.
Eyes dark with pain, Ricardo shudders and stares blankly ahead as the trainer prepares for transport to the nearest ER, this a little beyond what equipment he has on hand. "El Patron," he finally whispers, and Alberto's heart skips a beat.
"I'm here," he says softly, resting a hand on the ring announcer's forearm. "Right here. It's going to be fine, mi amigo. I'll be by your side- I'll make sure of it..."
"I'm scared," Ricardo whispers, eyes slipping shut. "Before-"
"No, no, no, you're going to be just fine," Alberto insists, shaking his head as he realizes what his best friend must be thinking about. He had read his file over thoroughly when he'd hired him, well aware of all of his past health issues. Had been impressed by all that he'd survived. "Don't think about the past. It was a long time ago, and you have me now. I'll call in any specialist you might need, do all that I can to make sure you have a full recovery, quickly." Forcing a smile onto his pale, tense lips, he rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder. "Por favor, just relax."
Ricardo sniffs and nods, eyes locked on the reassuring face of his employer. "Si, El Patron. I'll- I'll do my best."
Alberto sighs, his smile wavering slightly. "That's all I ask of you. Leave everything to me. I'll take care of it all." Though his body tingles with the desperate hunger to make Swagger pay, first and foremost is making sure that the traumatized ring announcer gets the care he deserves. Everything else can come later.