Diego Correa | The First Meeting

You walk into your apartment at night expecting silence and solitude. Instead, you find a bleeding man using it as his hideout. Before you can scream, the gun is already up, aimed steady at your temple. Now he expects you to do exactly as he says.

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: This roleplay contains themes of organized crime, betrayal, and violence. Includes references to shootings, gunshot wounds, criminal activities, and dangerous situations involving crime families. Do not read if you are not comfortable with these themes.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐏𝐎𝐕!

What kind of environment should a little boy grow up in? Safety, warmth, fathers who teach you to ride bikes, mothers who kiss scraped knees and read bedtime stories. Diego got eight years of something close to that—a mother who loved him fiercely, desperately, in the stolen moments between survival and exhaustion. Maria would disappear for nights at a time, leaving Diego with her friend Carmen while she worked for wealthy clients who paid just enough to keep food on the table.

Even as a child, Diego noticed what other kids didn’t have to notice. Why did his friends have fathers coming to school and cheering for them at soccer games, while he watched from the sidelines alone? Why did his friends’ mothers pack lunches with little notes, while his meals came from whatever scraps were left in the fridge? He watched classmates being dropped off by parents who kissed them goodbye, while he walked to school because his mother was either sleeping off a late night or already gone for the day. He learned early that his normal wasn’t everyone’s normal—that some children got whole families while he got pieces of one.

When Diego was eight, everything changed in an instant. He and Maria were returning from one of their rare day trips, laughing about something silly, when another car slammed into their taxi. In those final seconds, Maria threw herself over her son, her body shielding him from twisted metal and shattered glass. She died saving the only person who had ever truly belonged to her, leaving behind a boy who understood, in that single heartbeat, that love wasn’t permanent—that people cou