Ricardo Rodriguez stares blankly at the inky dark, October sky. Rob Van Dam had just left him in the lurch, taking his promises and all of his claims of Numero uno amigo with him, taking away all of his options in the business. Alberto Del Rio's idea to free him, Rob's decision to leave to get his head on straight, leaving him now with nothing: no employer, no prospects as he's rarely gotten booked in wrestling matches in the past three years, and no idea where to go from here.
He buries his face in his hands, glumly breathing in the cool air, when footsteps move towards him, his lips twitching slightly as he recognizes the sound- then the feel as someone sits down next to him, a warm arm wrapping around his shoulders and squeezing softly. "Mi valiente." He doesn't respond immediately, Alberto's presence not leaving him, but eventually he twists around and presses his face against Alberto's shoulder, the older man's fingers carding through his hair softly. "It's going to be ok. You were too good for Rob Van Dam anyway. He just proved that tonight," he tells him softly.
Ricardo winces, not truly wanting to discuss the highflyer with Alberto, pulling away slightly. "El Patron, would you... um..." He stalls, uncomfortable in even asking such a thing, though he knows it needs to be asked now if he's going to convince the Mexican aristocrat to follow through with what he had been considering since Rob had made his intentions known.
"Would I what?" Del Rio asks, cupping his jaw and making him look up, their eyes locking. "What is it, Ricardo?"
His eyes start to fill with tears as he considers, yet again, the weight of what he's about to request of the man before him. "Take me out tomorrow on Raw," he says shakily. "However real you feel like you have to make it, just... just do something so it's an easy sell for people to think I'm injured." Alberto looks truly startled, nearly sick at the request, but Ricardo leans forward and looks him in the eye. "I don't want to be Ricardo Rodriguez anymore. I want... I want to try to get booked, as El Local. Something, anything..."
Del Rio releases a faint, pained groan as he holds onto Ricardo tighter, shaking his head. "Is it really that bad, mi valiente? You don't... see any other way...?"
Ricardo scrambles to his knees, forcing Alberto to face his desperation and weariness directly. "I really don't," he whispers, shaking his head grimly as he strokes Del Rio's arms. "Por favor, El Patron... if I thought any other way would work, if I could find another possibility without making you do this, I would, but... I can't think of anything else." He falters at the level of pain in Alberto's eyes and grimaces, kissing him quickly. "Never mind, never mind. I'll find someone else to do it, I'll think of something-"
"No," Del Rio says rigidly, clinging to Ricardo's wrists before he can try to move away. "I trust no one but myself with anything of this nature... The others won't bother to try to protect you the way I will... I can... at least do that much. So you can try to get booked, if we play this correctly."
Ricardo sucks in a deep breath and stares at him adoringly. "Are you sure, El Patron? If it's too much-"
"I would do anything for you, mi valiente. Even this... if it's what you truly think needs to be done." He pats the younger man's face and tries to smile through the pain of what the next night will thus bring them. "But if I truly start to hurt you, give me a sign. Pinch me, or say something in Spanish, whatever you can think of to get through to me. I don't want to take things too far ever again." He rests his hand on Ricardo's mostly mended arm and massages it lightly through his sleeve, smiling sadly at the ring announcer as he nods, nervously.
"Si, El Patron," he murmurs, leaning against him so they can take in the sky for awhile longer before they have to go inside and prepare their plans for Raw. "Muchas gracias."
As it happens, Vickie makes things a little easier for them- throws Ricardo in a match against Del Rio, and then angers the Mexican aristocrat by announcing his returning rival, Cena, and his opportunity at the World title at the following PPV. Alberto is angry, more so when Ricardo takes the opportunity, playing their act to the hilt, and rolls him up into a pin. The beat down that follows is brutal, and Ricardo isn't sure that Alberto remembers their goal sometimes, though he never quite gets scared enough to pinch him. The entire chair thing worries him, yes, but he knows as soon as Alberto clicks it into place that it's adjusted just so that it won't actually snap his arm, just pinch his flesh enough to look painful. No matter how many times he stomps and Ricardo writhes, no serious damage is caused, just minor bruising.
Alberto sneaks into the trainer's office not long afterwards, and smiles sadly down at him as he holds ice to his arm and another is pressed against his back where he'd slammed into the table with so much force. "I didn't go too far, did I?" he asks softly, ruffling Ricardo's hair as he sits down next to him on the cot.
"No, I'm fine," he says, leaning into the older man. "Gracias, I knew you would do exactly what I needed you to."
"I hope it works out the way you wish for it to, mi valiente," Del Rio tells him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead while they listen to the bustle of the arena beyond those doors. "Neh, Cena."
"Lo siento, I didn't know she was going to use that against you during our match," he tells him. "If I had, perhaps..."
"No, mi valiente, it's fine. What better way to go out as Ricardo Rodriguez than with a victory against the World Heavyweight Champion, hm?" He smiles slightly, patting the younger man's back gently. "I hope you find all the success you're looking for as El Local."
"Gracias," Ricardo whispers, smiling as he leans against his former employer's side, both man's thoughts heavy with what they've orchestrated this evening, and what it might or might not bring.
That Friday, Ricardo arrives at the arena alone in his El Local gear and stares up at the building, nervousness gnawing at his stomach as he drags himself out of the vehicle and walks inside, trying not to succumb to his anxiety. He's only taken a few steps down the hall when he notices Alberto a few feet away, lips twitching up into a smile as the older man nods discreetly at him. He's not sure he'll be booked tonight, but he's here to catch someone's eye, and perhaps it'll be a start, build to something more in the weeks to come. He's playing with his wrist tape, wondering when exactly he'll need it, when the locker room door opens. Silence reigns through the room until finally Vickie's voice breaks into his thoughts once more, causing him to tense up.
"You, in the red," she calls out to him, shocking him. "Come here." He blinks rapidly as he stands and turns towards her, muted in shock that perhaps she had already figured him out. "Yes you, get over here." He joins her and she peers up at him shrewdly. "What's your name?"
"El Local. I... I've competed in NXT mostly," he says, hoping that the mask distorts his voice enough that she won't recognize him.
"I see," she says, seeming unimpressed with him. "Well, find a tag partner. I need opponents for Los Matadores and everyone else here is booked, so you'll do."
It's not a ringing endorsement, but he thinks it'll do. For now. "Si, gracias," he chokes out, quickly leaving to do as she'd suggested. But instead of actually taking the time to look for a tag partner for the evening, he instead ventures into the quieter part of the arena, knocking quickly on the door of the World title holder's locker room. When Alberto answers, he slips inside, smiling up at his true partner. "I've been booked into a match tonight." He laughs as Alberto's entire face lights up, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. "I never expected it to happen this quickly..." He tugs at Del Rio's suit and sighs.
"Maybe this all was worth it then, hm?" the Mexican aristocrat asks him softly, beaming down at him as he gently rubs his arm, remembering all of the bruises from Monday still there, hidden by his sleeves and elbow pads.
"Maybe," Ricardo agrees. "I miss traveling with you and spending every hour with you, but this... this will be good, I think. It's a start anyway." He grips Alberto's hand and squeezes gently, eyes shining behind his mask. "I don't know if I'll win, I don't even know who my partner will be, but I just... I wanted to share this bit of luck with you."
Alberto leans in and kisses him, smiling. "I'm happy you're happy, mi valiente. Win or lose, I know you'll do your very best tonight, and that's the important thing."
Ricardo chuckles softly and rests against him, happy to remain as close to him for as long as possible until he has to go figure out who his tag partner is going to be.