It was almost no wonder Rufio grew up to idolize them so much. Daydreaming about them in classes in the church (to the dismay of the catholic preist who would often scold him for this). Pretending he was one when he would tussle about with the other boys in the town. And eventually as he got older and would go to school, get into more than enough trouble sticking up for people who were being pushed around. To the point where he had faced expulsions once or twice for fighting with the bullies (never fairing all that badly, but sometimes he'd have his share of bloodied noses and busted lips). While at home his parents would scold, ground, and find as many possible ways to punish him that they could think of for fighting (while his father would sneak to his room at night, with food if he was sent to bed without dinner, and tell him he was proud for being so honorable).
And was it even more of a surprise that when he left high school he packed up his clothes and the little bit of money he had saved and wished his family good bye and went to Dallas to take lessons from some of the most famous Luchadors known to the industry, and then later to Atlanta and the Power Plant where he further learned the rest of the trade that he had wished to enter into.
On the weekends and at night he would do what ever work he could to maintain having a place to live, and pay for his tuition through the acadamies. Sometimes either not sleeping or sleeping very little and eating about as much, but never giving up as he strove to reach to the top.
After a year or so he did manage to get that break. The big shot from one of the major pro leagues was in talking shop with the guy who owned the Power Plant and was watching some of the young talent as they trained. His eye falling every so often on Rufio who was working out with a bigger guy who would pick him up and toss him up onto a stack of tables to jump down on him from a turnbuckle.
Rufio was signed that night, over dinner, to a trial match for next Monday at the Atlanta arena. He ran home that night and called his folks. Promised them a victory and then that Monday night, delivered as promised in the unscripted match. What sealed it for him, according to the General Manager, was not just how he got the crowd behind him with his charisma (masked or not), and his seeming disregard for his own saftey to deliver on a match (evident when he tossed his opponent off a balcony and then followed him down for the pin and the three count).
He was in, and he was hot. They gave him better costumes and a nicer mask and he sent his old mask home to his father who was his constant inspiration. Although how was he to know that that year would end with tragedy. Midway through June after he had left from his sister's graduation party to make an arena date, he recieved the call that his sister had been murdered and raped by a group boys who'd drugged her and dragged her into a locked room. She was found around midnight by the parents of the girl who hosted the party.
And after that it would only go further down hill. Mid-November, and Rufio had won the Cruiserweight belt shortly after his sister's death (in her name). The General Manager (according to storyline) was steaming that his goons were always loosing to Rufio would name some new person to defend the belt for in their name. So he got in his face in the middle of the ring and announced the main event for the up coming pay-per-view. A brawl for it all. 15 guys against Rufio (who was going by Torcido, spanish for "Twisted") in a no holes barred no disqualifications falls count anywhere match.
And then the world came crashing down for Rufio. He spit on the mat and accepted. This of course pissed the GM off who chased him into the back of the house. Rufio beating feet to his dressing room, ranting GM in tow. As he pushed open the door to his locker room he saw another wrestler "Dropkick Murphy" they called him. Standing up after leaning over his gym bag. Seeing Ruifo, then the GM he coughed, made up some bullshit answer and bolted. Rufio moved over and stuffed his hand in the bag. As the camera cut out the last thing the crowd in the arena (and across the globe) heard was "You're fired!".
That was three years ago. Since then Rufio had been moving around. His father spit on him when he came home, his mother was so ashamed she didn't look him in the eye. The pain from the loss of their daughter still sharp and then that. Rufio was no better to them then anyone else who would do those deeds. Wether or not he was that person.
He'd spent time in no place in particular, ending up for awhile in New York City where he ran across some family that he hadn't known about. Only to learn even worse news. He was Kinfolk, and werewolves were real. Getting a few pointers he left there as soon as possible. Now he's in Cactus Flats... who knows what's next?