Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2020 17:58:00 GMT -8
Location: Unknown
Time of Day: Sunset
Tren pulls the cherry red El Camino into an old access road, bumping along the dirt trail. He has one hand on the wheel. The other is on top of Katelin’s hand on her lap as he looks forward, focused. His face is painted, but he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses over his face to combat the setting sun. The Chevrolet comes to a stop at a chainlink fence with a locked gate. The sign, rusted, reads “Train Yard.”
Tren Descarrilado: Dis da place Kit Kat. Lemme get dat door for ya.
The big man climbs out of the truck, tossing his sunglasses into the seat. He walks around the front of the vehicle, coming around and opening the door for Katelin and offering her a hand. Arnett takes his hand and exits the vehicle. There's a slight amount of vigor to her, more so than anyone's ever really seen out of her. Not enough to make anyone think differently of her being a stoic bitch, but enough for anyone paying attention to be able to tell she's unusually happy with Tren. In casual garb, Katelin steps onto solid ground, looking towards the sunset. Tren keeps a hold of her hand, reaching into the bed of the hybrid muscle car/pickup truck, and taking out a pair of heavy duty bolt cutters. He leads her to the gate, snapping away the lock and chain like they’re nothing. He tosses the tool on the ground, pulling away the chain and tossing it to the ground as well.
Tren Descarrilado: I used ta live here, in dis place, ya dig? Back when I first got to da US, I wasn’ exactly what ya would call “legal”. I hopped a train from Juarez, hid in a tank car when we got to da border, and den ended up here after wanderin’ around wit nowhere ta go. I tink it should still be here. Come on.
Thankfully he’d told her to wear boots. Tren took the woman by her hand again, leading her carefully over uneven ground and old railway ties. Some of the older cars have what look like newer scrapes and scratches on them. A couple are dented. Several of the passenger cars have shattered windows. The painted monster continues walking, eventually stopping outside of a large shed with tracks leading inside. He kicks the door once, causing it to creak in it’s frame, before putting a boot to it again, the old wood splintering as the door falls in on itself. Descarrilado reaches into his pocket, taking out a heavy duty MagLite, turning it on and finding exactly what he remembered, exactly where it had been. An old passenger car, though this one was in better condition having been kept inside the shed. There was no graffiti on it, and the windows were all intact. The door was sitting in the open position.
Tren Descarrilado: Here we is Kit Kat. Dis used ta be home sweet home. How far I’ve come, huh?
The Japanese-American manager nods, looking around and taking in her surroundings.
Katelin Arnett: That's apparent. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm honestly astonished at what I'm seeing... it's like walking into a museum and finding a one-of-a-kind artifact.
Arnett's voice is a little more hushed than usual, but there's a hint of excitement in it. Of natural curiosity.
Tren Descarrilado: I found dis place on accident. I’m a little surprised dey replaced da door to da shed, to be honest. Let’s see if dey messed around wit my digs, yeah?
He lead her to the passenger cars stairs, grabbing her by the waist and effortlessly lifting her up and onto the platform before climbing up behind her. The rust on this car that should’ve been prevalent was not as thick anywhere, the only real thing showing the passage of time was a thin layer of dust. He led her inside.
Tren Descarrilado: I took a couple of da benches out. Broke da frames. Made a bed.
He points to the makeshift mattress, exactly where he left it. He continues, stopping and kneeling next to one of the booths. He reaches into his pocket, removing a large pocket knife, and sticking it into the gap between the wooden flooring. With a grunt, he pops the board away and grins. Reaching in with one hand, he extracts a metal lockbox, battered with wear, and opens it. Inside is a fistful of cash, an old photo of a very young Hispanic boy and a blonde girl wearing matching uniforms, along with various knick knacks from the different places he’d been.
Tren Descarrilado: Travelled all over da States, an’ I still always ended comin’ back here. Before NFW, anyways.
He takes the money, rolling it up and putting a rubber band around it before sliding it into his pocket. He takes the old photo in his hand, looking at it thoughtfully before putting that into his pocket as well.
Tren Descarrilado: So. Whatcha tink? Not quite as nice as da hotels we stay in, huh?
Tren chuckles as he looks up at her from his seat on the bench. A light exhale escapes Arnett's nostrils with a slight smirk crawling across her lips.
Katelin Arnett: That doesn't make this place any less interesting.
Katelin looks down for a moment, her smirk and slightly amused look becoming one of inquisitiveness again.
Katelin Arnett: Who... were those two in the picture?
Tren retrieved the photo, placing it into her hand. He frowned, looking down at the floor.
Tren Descarrilado: Dat’s me an’ my frien’ Angelita from da orphanage back in Chihuahua. She… she died about two months after I paid ta have somebody snap dat Polaroid. I used ta look after her. She had dat ting where no matter how much sun she’d get, her hair and skin stayed real pale, ya dig?
Arnett nods, pursing her lips.
Katelin Arnett: I dig... and I'm very sorry.
Tren just shrugs, sliding the photo back into his pocket before standing up. He looks around with a faint grin before taking her hand.
Tren Descarrilado: I jus’ wanted ta say goodbye to dis place. I don’t tink I’m gonna come back dis time. Plus? Issa real great place to talk about how hard I’m finna kick somebody’s ass up between dey shoulderblades.
Tren chuckles, leading her down the stairs and to the ground, and back out of the shed.
Tren Descarrilado: See dat boxcar, in da distance? Da rusted one wit da open door? Dat’s my shit. Imma talk, an’ you can film it for me. Dat okay Kit Kat?
Katelin takes her phone out and opens up the camera app. She points the back of that phone towards Tren before silently giving him a thumbs-up, then pointing at him as if to say "go for it."
Tren Descarrilado: Reckoning Day. Gonna be a cage match. No rules. Three people in da ring. Me versus a couple of rejects dat tink da Devil is cool and dey should worship him while dey suck on each others tongues and shit or whatever da fuck dey do.
Tren lifts Katelin up into the box car, quickly following her in. He kicks a crate over for her to sit on before he begins to pace back and forth.
Tren Descarrilado: Darius Crowley and “Vain” Vanita Thompson. Apparently dese motherfuckers don’t really understand da bees nest dey decided ta kick. See, ya looking at da motherfucker who speared Eric Lee off da second level of seating into da equipment area. Walked away from explosions and gettin a shock ta boot. See, when I say dat I don’t feel no pain, I ain’t tryin’ ta be a tough guy. It’s facts, motherfuckers. Doctor’s call it Congenital Analgesia. Not dat it matters. Wouldn’t matter if I busted nuts gettin hit like Lash Donny Hooch, or get all riled up and ready ta fuckin’ go like Eric Lee. I asked for dis match, dig? Because I know what I can do. Dat, and I know dat even inside of dat cage, I got back up.
Tren winks at Kat before continuing to speak.
Tren Descarrilado: Da other ting? I got an equalizer wit me everywhere I go. I’m bigger dan a both of ya by what? Tink I got about thirty pounds on you Crowley? An’ your BITCH is a hunnit pounds lighter dan I am. I’m taller den da both of ya. An any damage ya try to inflict? I won’t. Stay. Down. Ya kicked da wrong dog, motherfuckers. I was already tryin’ ta bite ya. Now I’m tryin ta leave ya motherfuckers layin’ in a puddle of blood dats gonna come from all three of us.
Descarrilado smirks, popping his neck and cracking his knuckles.
Tren Descarrilado: See, here’s how dis works. I’mma get in da ring wit you two Devil Dipshits. Yer gonna try yer hardest ta beat me, and den I’mma stack ya up on top of one another, lock in da Railroad Crossing, and put both ya asses ta sleep. Dat, or…
That scary smile of pure insanity comes to Tren’s face as he begins to chuckle, shoulders shaking as he does.
Tren Descarrilado: I could jus’ let Lola out ta play, and beat both you motherfuckers straight into a hospital room afta da show. Don’t worry. I’m sure dat ol’ Calloway will make sure yer in a room wit two beds since y’all is attached mouth ta asshole.
Tren holds his arms out wide, the muscles in his biceps and forearms flexing a bit as he stares into the camera.
Tren Descarrilado: I am THE most Hardcore motherfucker in NFW. You two motherfuckin’ idiots accepted a one way ticket straight into da stupidest fuckin’ place you could’ve taken a vacation to, an’ I’mma bout ta make sure it’s a vacation you never forget. See you stupid motherfuckers in the ring. I’mma make dis pay-per-view live up to it’s name. It’s gonna be yer motherfuckin’ Reckoning Day.
Tren laughs, nodding to Kat to cut.
Tren Descarrilado: How was dat Kit Kat? Tink dey got da message?
Arnett clicks her tongue as she gives Tren an "OK" gesture, putting her phone into her left rear pocket.
Katelin Arnett: Devil's Dipshits was a classic line. Honestly, you're already halfway to winning the match with that one alone.
Tren laughs, putting an arm over Kat’s shoulder and leading her back to the car. He grins at her.
Tren Descarrilado: I’mma bout ta put us on da map wit dis one Kit Kat, just you wait and see.
Time of Day: Sunset
Tren pulls the cherry red El Camino into an old access road, bumping along the dirt trail. He has one hand on the wheel. The other is on top of Katelin’s hand on her lap as he looks forward, focused. His face is painted, but he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses over his face to combat the setting sun. The Chevrolet comes to a stop at a chainlink fence with a locked gate. The sign, rusted, reads “Train Yard.”
Tren Descarrilado: Dis da place Kit Kat. Lemme get dat door for ya.
The big man climbs out of the truck, tossing his sunglasses into the seat. He walks around the front of the vehicle, coming around and opening the door for Katelin and offering her a hand. Arnett takes his hand and exits the vehicle. There's a slight amount of vigor to her, more so than anyone's ever really seen out of her. Not enough to make anyone think differently of her being a stoic bitch, but enough for anyone paying attention to be able to tell she's unusually happy with Tren. In casual garb, Katelin steps onto solid ground, looking towards the sunset. Tren keeps a hold of her hand, reaching into the bed of the hybrid muscle car/pickup truck, and taking out a pair of heavy duty bolt cutters. He leads her to the gate, snapping away the lock and chain like they’re nothing. He tosses the tool on the ground, pulling away the chain and tossing it to the ground as well.
Tren Descarrilado: I used ta live here, in dis place, ya dig? Back when I first got to da US, I wasn’ exactly what ya would call “legal”. I hopped a train from Juarez, hid in a tank car when we got to da border, and den ended up here after wanderin’ around wit nowhere ta go. I tink it should still be here. Come on.
Thankfully he’d told her to wear boots. Tren took the woman by her hand again, leading her carefully over uneven ground and old railway ties. Some of the older cars have what look like newer scrapes and scratches on them. A couple are dented. Several of the passenger cars have shattered windows. The painted monster continues walking, eventually stopping outside of a large shed with tracks leading inside. He kicks the door once, causing it to creak in it’s frame, before putting a boot to it again, the old wood splintering as the door falls in on itself. Descarrilado reaches into his pocket, taking out a heavy duty MagLite, turning it on and finding exactly what he remembered, exactly where it had been. An old passenger car, though this one was in better condition having been kept inside the shed. There was no graffiti on it, and the windows were all intact. The door was sitting in the open position.
Tren Descarrilado: Here we is Kit Kat. Dis used ta be home sweet home. How far I’ve come, huh?
The Japanese-American manager nods, looking around and taking in her surroundings.
Katelin Arnett: That's apparent. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm honestly astonished at what I'm seeing... it's like walking into a museum and finding a one-of-a-kind artifact.
Arnett's voice is a little more hushed than usual, but there's a hint of excitement in it. Of natural curiosity.
Tren Descarrilado: I found dis place on accident. I’m a little surprised dey replaced da door to da shed, to be honest. Let’s see if dey messed around wit my digs, yeah?
He lead her to the passenger cars stairs, grabbing her by the waist and effortlessly lifting her up and onto the platform before climbing up behind her. The rust on this car that should’ve been prevalent was not as thick anywhere, the only real thing showing the passage of time was a thin layer of dust. He led her inside.
Tren Descarrilado: I took a couple of da benches out. Broke da frames. Made a bed.
He points to the makeshift mattress, exactly where he left it. He continues, stopping and kneeling next to one of the booths. He reaches into his pocket, removing a large pocket knife, and sticking it into the gap between the wooden flooring. With a grunt, he pops the board away and grins. Reaching in with one hand, he extracts a metal lockbox, battered with wear, and opens it. Inside is a fistful of cash, an old photo of a very young Hispanic boy and a blonde girl wearing matching uniforms, along with various knick knacks from the different places he’d been.
Tren Descarrilado: Travelled all over da States, an’ I still always ended comin’ back here. Before NFW, anyways.
He takes the money, rolling it up and putting a rubber band around it before sliding it into his pocket. He takes the old photo in his hand, looking at it thoughtfully before putting that into his pocket as well.
Tren Descarrilado: So. Whatcha tink? Not quite as nice as da hotels we stay in, huh?
Tren chuckles as he looks up at her from his seat on the bench. A light exhale escapes Arnett's nostrils with a slight smirk crawling across her lips.
Katelin Arnett: That doesn't make this place any less interesting.
Katelin looks down for a moment, her smirk and slightly amused look becoming one of inquisitiveness again.
Katelin Arnett: Who... were those two in the picture?
Tren retrieved the photo, placing it into her hand. He frowned, looking down at the floor.
Tren Descarrilado: Dat’s me an’ my frien’ Angelita from da orphanage back in Chihuahua. She… she died about two months after I paid ta have somebody snap dat Polaroid. I used ta look after her. She had dat ting where no matter how much sun she’d get, her hair and skin stayed real pale, ya dig?
Arnett nods, pursing her lips.
Katelin Arnett: I dig... and I'm very sorry.
Tren just shrugs, sliding the photo back into his pocket before standing up. He looks around with a faint grin before taking her hand.
Tren Descarrilado: I jus’ wanted ta say goodbye to dis place. I don’t tink I’m gonna come back dis time. Plus? Issa real great place to talk about how hard I’m finna kick somebody’s ass up between dey shoulderblades.
Tren chuckles, leading her down the stairs and to the ground, and back out of the shed.
Tren Descarrilado: See dat boxcar, in da distance? Da rusted one wit da open door? Dat’s my shit. Imma talk, an’ you can film it for me. Dat okay Kit Kat?
Katelin takes her phone out and opens up the camera app. She points the back of that phone towards Tren before silently giving him a thumbs-up, then pointing at him as if to say "go for it."
Tren Descarrilado: Reckoning Day. Gonna be a cage match. No rules. Three people in da ring. Me versus a couple of rejects dat tink da Devil is cool and dey should worship him while dey suck on each others tongues and shit or whatever da fuck dey do.
Tren lifts Katelin up into the box car, quickly following her in. He kicks a crate over for her to sit on before he begins to pace back and forth.
Tren Descarrilado: Darius Crowley and “Vain” Vanita Thompson. Apparently dese motherfuckers don’t really understand da bees nest dey decided ta kick. See, ya looking at da motherfucker who speared Eric Lee off da second level of seating into da equipment area. Walked away from explosions and gettin a shock ta boot. See, when I say dat I don’t feel no pain, I ain’t tryin’ ta be a tough guy. It’s facts, motherfuckers. Doctor’s call it Congenital Analgesia. Not dat it matters. Wouldn’t matter if I busted nuts gettin hit like Lash Donny Hooch, or get all riled up and ready ta fuckin’ go like Eric Lee. I asked for dis match, dig? Because I know what I can do. Dat, and I know dat even inside of dat cage, I got back up.
Tren winks at Kat before continuing to speak.
Tren Descarrilado: Da other ting? I got an equalizer wit me everywhere I go. I’m bigger dan a both of ya by what? Tink I got about thirty pounds on you Crowley? An’ your BITCH is a hunnit pounds lighter dan I am. I’m taller den da both of ya. An any damage ya try to inflict? I won’t. Stay. Down. Ya kicked da wrong dog, motherfuckers. I was already tryin’ ta bite ya. Now I’m tryin ta leave ya motherfuckers layin’ in a puddle of blood dats gonna come from all three of us.
Descarrilado smirks, popping his neck and cracking his knuckles.
Tren Descarrilado: See, here’s how dis works. I’mma get in da ring wit you two Devil Dipshits. Yer gonna try yer hardest ta beat me, and den I’mma stack ya up on top of one another, lock in da Railroad Crossing, and put both ya asses ta sleep. Dat, or…
That scary smile of pure insanity comes to Tren’s face as he begins to chuckle, shoulders shaking as he does.
Tren Descarrilado: I could jus’ let Lola out ta play, and beat both you motherfuckers straight into a hospital room afta da show. Don’t worry. I’m sure dat ol’ Calloway will make sure yer in a room wit two beds since y’all is attached mouth ta asshole.
Tren holds his arms out wide, the muscles in his biceps and forearms flexing a bit as he stares into the camera.
Tren Descarrilado: I am THE most Hardcore motherfucker in NFW. You two motherfuckin’ idiots accepted a one way ticket straight into da stupidest fuckin’ place you could’ve taken a vacation to, an’ I’mma bout ta make sure it’s a vacation you never forget. See you stupid motherfuckers in the ring. I’mma make dis pay-per-view live up to it’s name. It’s gonna be yer motherfuckin’ Reckoning Day.
Tren laughs, nodding to Kat to cut.
Tren Descarrilado: How was dat Kit Kat? Tink dey got da message?
Arnett clicks her tongue as she gives Tren an "OK" gesture, putting her phone into her left rear pocket.
Katelin Arnett: Devil's Dipshits was a classic line. Honestly, you're already halfway to winning the match with that one alone.
Tren laughs, putting an arm over Kat’s shoulder and leading her back to the car. He grins at her.
Tren Descarrilado: I’mma bout ta put us on da map wit dis one Kit Kat, just you wait and see.
