Pedro Gonzales and the Conversation.
Apr 5, 2016 12:35:28 GMT -5
Post by Anna on Apr 5, 2016 12:35:28 GMT -5
At five-foot-five and a hundred fifty pounds, nobody could consider Anna Mathews to be a threat. The way she spoke never helped matters with any of her opponents accusing her of being retarded or crazy before shrugging her off as just another easy win. Most of the time, it didn't seem to effect her. Those comments only gave her more of a reason to pummel people into oblivion. Often than not, she would gain the victory in whatever match was in front of her. And if she didn't? Well, the motherfuckers knew better next time anyway. So when she showed up at the apartment of Pedro Gonzales, he knew it would be wise to let her in.
But that didn't stop the nauseous feeling in his stomach.
A thousand questions ran through the head of Mexico City's Favorite Son. About half of them, he knew she would answer with a smirk. It wasn't all that long ago that they had met. He was still a cashier stocking up the store and putting the items on shelves when she stepped in for the first time, sucked on an Uno Peso Mystery Slushee, and (aside from the times when she had to wrestle) never really left until that fateful day his life changed.
"Tell mii sumthin," Anna started while plucking his thought process from out of thin air, "was itt four the better oar the worst?"
Pedro sighed as his body took up the other side of a plain brown couch in his sparsely decorated living room. "I won't lie. Some days, I don't know."
"Just addmit dat joo missed me alredy."
He nodded. He nodded his head because it was the truth. Even with his attempts to remain himself in this universe, a part of him couldn't lie that he almost missed the chaos. For every bit of high school cliches that became fairly routine at the LDFC, sometimes he wished for a room to explode or a calamity to occur...
"Oar a common enemy to fyght?"
Looking over at her, Pedro smiled. "Si. It's ridiculous, isn't it, Señora? After everything we've been through with Fox News and Kalis--"
"Und her." The ranting stopped as he stared. Anna smirked. "Admitt it. Dat stray tweet frum the Skylar cunt maid ya fink ov her. Thee hole fing abowt 'yif yoo join thee Systemic, ur slave name'll bea washed awai' oar whatever."
Pedro folds. "It does. It all fits, Señora. The blonde hair, the inflated sense of self, the cult. And before we know it..."
"Gudbai, Diskneeland." There's a long, painful silence after that, broken only by common sense. "But tat wuz inna galaxy far awai. And Skylar, Butcher, Darby, nor thee rest gots enuff menace in dere bonez two create dat kinda camaraderie even yif they tried."
"Yet.", Pedro was quick to point out.
"Mayhaps itt's tyme joo boot Malo in the ass an quit waiting four sumthin to push you in the rite diwrecktion. Kay, sew you lost that whole thing with tha shinys. Now what?"
And the gears turn.
____________
"I watched a promo from Señorita Becky once that proclaimed that while Señor Malo and I are great individuals, we're not necessarily a great team. And I'll admit that that is true."
With this, Pedro gets up from his chair and walks away. The promo seems to end right here. But a few seconds later, he comes right back.
"But then again, who is she to say what makes a good team? Who am I to believe her? Sometimes, you can throw a team together out of people who don't know or utterly despise each other and it manages to click. Some teams are made from amigos that you like right off the bat. Most of the people I can trust with my life I have shared experiences with that were..."
A beat.
"...unpleasant." He shifts in his seat. "What I am trying to say is that life's is made of many different bonds. Bonds forged in the heat of battle, bonds of trust, bonds of love, Chris Bond, James Bond, and in the case of the Systemic, bonds over the ideal.
I am quite sure if I ask them, they will say that they are not enslaved. They are doing this out of their own free will. But the shackles are on you still, Señor Dos and Señora Tres. The name changes and hero worship can't change that. Sneak attacking people for no reason only shows how trapped you are.
'My past was horrible' is an excuse.
Doing it for Skylar is an excuse.
In the end, it doesn't matter if you two have the courage to meet us head on or from behind. There will be a fight."
Pedro smiles.
"That's a Bueno Club guarantee."
But that didn't stop the nauseous feeling in his stomach.
A thousand questions ran through the head of Mexico City's Favorite Son. About half of them, he knew she would answer with a smirk. It wasn't all that long ago that they had met. He was still a cashier stocking up the store and putting the items on shelves when she stepped in for the first time, sucked on an Uno Peso Mystery Slushee, and (aside from the times when she had to wrestle) never really left until that fateful day his life changed.
"Tell mii sumthin," Anna started while plucking his thought process from out of thin air, "was itt four the better oar the worst?"
Pedro sighed as his body took up the other side of a plain brown couch in his sparsely decorated living room. "I won't lie. Some days, I don't know."
"Just addmit dat joo missed me alredy."
He nodded. He nodded his head because it was the truth. Even with his attempts to remain himself in this universe, a part of him couldn't lie that he almost missed the chaos. For every bit of high school cliches that became fairly routine at the LDFC, sometimes he wished for a room to explode or a calamity to occur...
"Oar a common enemy to fyght?"
Looking over at her, Pedro smiled. "Si. It's ridiculous, isn't it, Señora? After everything we've been through with Fox News and Kalis--"
"Und her." The ranting stopped as he stared. Anna smirked. "Admitt it. Dat stray tweet frum the Skylar cunt maid ya fink ov her. Thee hole fing abowt 'yif yoo join thee Systemic, ur slave name'll bea washed awai' oar whatever."
Pedro folds. "It does. It all fits, Señora. The blonde hair, the inflated sense of self, the cult. And before we know it..."
"Gudbai, Diskneeland." There's a long, painful silence after that, broken only by common sense. "But tat wuz inna galaxy far awai. And Skylar, Butcher, Darby, nor thee rest gots enuff menace in dere bonez two create dat kinda camaraderie even yif they tried."
"Yet.", Pedro was quick to point out.
"Mayhaps itt's tyme joo boot Malo in the ass an quit waiting four sumthin to push you in the rite diwrecktion. Kay, sew you lost that whole thing with tha shinys. Now what?"
And the gears turn.
____________
"I watched a promo from Señorita Becky once that proclaimed that while Señor Malo and I are great individuals, we're not necessarily a great team. And I'll admit that that is true."
With this, Pedro gets up from his chair and walks away. The promo seems to end right here. But a few seconds later, he comes right back.
"But then again, who is she to say what makes a good team? Who am I to believe her? Sometimes, you can throw a team together out of people who don't know or utterly despise each other and it manages to click. Some teams are made from amigos that you like right off the bat. Most of the people I can trust with my life I have shared experiences with that were..."
A beat.
"...unpleasant." He shifts in his seat. "What I am trying to say is that life's is made of many different bonds. Bonds forged in the heat of battle, bonds of trust, bonds of love, Chris Bond, James Bond, and in the case of the Systemic, bonds over the ideal.
I am quite sure if I ask them, they will say that they are not enslaved. They are doing this out of their own free will. But the shackles are on you still, Señor Dos and Señora Tres. The name changes and hero worship can't change that. Sneak attacking people for no reason only shows how trapped you are.
'My past was horrible' is an excuse.
Doing it for Skylar is an excuse.
In the end, it doesn't matter if you two have the courage to meet us head on or from behind. There will be a fight."
Pedro smiles.
"That's a Bueno Club guarantee."