1980 Havana, Cuba

Manuel Diaz smoked his Cuban cigar as he watched the orange sun set on the horizon, enjoying what was left of the warmth it was going to give before the earth rotated on its axis and made it shine, giving warmth to the other side of the world. The soft warm refreshing breeze blew at his sun kissed skin softly. The thirty year old male had age lines on his forehead and in the corner of his brown eyes. His short brown curly hair slowly turning gray as he grew older with time. He used his feet to rock himself softly back and forth in his old worn wooden chair on the old balcony painted a faded yellow which looked gray now from the weather. He raised his hand and pulled the cigar from his mouth and let the smoke out into the air watching the cloud vanish into the wind before putting it back in his mouth.

Manuel's ten year old son, Santiago, sat on the cold floor inside the cramped living room playing with his broken green army men toys which were the only things his family could afford to entertain him when he wasn't in school. Well they didn't exactly buy it. They kind of took it when the guy wasn't looking when they went on a trip to the market, something that happened often on the island. He had the same dark curly hair as his father and the same chocolate eyes. His left lateral incisor had fallen out a few weeks ago and it was slowly started to grow back. He wiggled his dirty bare toes as he felt the tingly feeling of them falling asleep but didn't bother much with it. It happened to him every time he played with his toys so he didn't really bother with it.

He sighed before he started shaking his leg regretting instantly letting his foot falling asleep. He pouted and stopped moving it when it started to tingle so much it hurt to move it. Why did he do this to himself? Maybe it was the laziness or maybe it was something else. As he waited for the tingles to pass he returned to playing with his toys quietly knowing well that if he made noises it would irritate his short tempered father.

Francisca Diaz stormed inside the small house and walked past her son who was still on the floor, going straight to the worn balcony where her husband gave her a two second glance before he turned his eyes back to the horizon. She had a grave look on her beautiful aging face. Like the majority of Cubans, her skin was deeply sun kissed and had long dark curly hair which she had tied up into a bun to keep it out of the way at work.

"What happened?" Manuel asked as he took another drag from his cigar and tapping the ashes away onto the floor dirtying it even more which annoyed Francisca to no means but she had other things in mind at the moment then a small pile of cigar ashes on her balcony. She opened her mouth to speak but the sound of marching footsteps made them both look down and Manuel stood up suddenly swearing under his breath. Fidel's men were here. They needed to get Santiago somewhere safe while they handled the situation. "Santiago, come here."

"What happened, Daddy?" Santiago asked as he got up and stood at the doorway to the balcony, clutching his toys tightly his heart racing thinking he had done something and he was now going to get into trouble.

"I want you to go to Maria's house and hide there. Don't let the soldiers see you." Manuel pointing his cigar warningly at his son who nodded and put on his sandals before rushing out of the house using the secret back door heading to his aunt's house, well she wasn't really his aunt but his godmother who he considered an aunt. Manuel sat back down in his chair stiffly not looking at his wife. "Act as if nothing happened and go prepare the food."

Francisca nodded and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"Santiago?" Maria asked in surprise as she looked down at the short skinny boy who was still clutching the toys tightly with watery eyes. The mid middle aged woman looked out her window and saw the soldiers kicking the Diaz's door down and storming in making her heart drop to her stomach, her blood running cold at the sight. "No."

"What is happening?" Santiago asked timidly and Maria gave him a sad smile before shaking her head, leading him into her guestroom. If they discovered Francisca and Manuel that would mean she would be discovered next and she needed to hide Santiago which was why his parents had sent him over in the first place. They knew that the chances of making it out alive were slim so they decided to safe their son instead of themselves. "Auntie?"

"Don't worry, Santiago. Stay quiet and don't move from here and remember that your parents love you very much." Maria sniffed as she wiped the tears running down her cheeks. Her dark caramel skin was wrinkly but not to the point were she was considered extremely elder but she definitely wasn't twenty anymore. She kissed his head before standing up silently praying to him. "May the Caridad del Cobre watch over you, boy."

Santiago's eyes widened as his godmother shut the door and rushed out of the house and started walking away. A soldier who stood guard in front of her neighbors house looked at her suspiciously before he called out to her. She pretended to not hear him and kept on walking which was her mistake because another soldier came and started yelling that she was an accomplice of the Diaz's. She broke out into a fast run but then fell to the floor dead with a bullet hole in her head.

Back in the house Santiago hugged himself as he heard more gunshots which made his ears ring even though he was far from where it was and his mother's piercing scream. His felt heavy as he resisted the urge to rush back into his house but he knew that would anger his father if he did so he stayed put like he was told but he was struggling to do so.

Silence.

Santiago got up and walked out of the old room his aunt had left him in. Walking to the window he perched himself up on the counter and peeked out of the window. A truck came and they carried three bodies towards it. Some of the soldiers were laughing smoking cigars while others were stoic and speechless... The bodies belonged to his parents and his aunt.

He immediately fell to the floor crying hugging himself as sorrow overcame him. He felt as if someone had reached into his chest, past his rib cage and slowly started to rip his heart out of his chest. Tears burned his brown eyes and blurred his visions as he rocked himself back and forth on the cold floor. He tried to keep them quiet so the soldiers wouldn't hear him but he couldn't control the sobs. His parents had been killed in cold blood along with his aunt. All the civilians living near them had shut their doors and windows not even bothering to peek through the window because he knew the sight that would be awaiting them if they looked.

Santiago laid there on the floor crying for what seemed like hours before he felt it. The heat coming around him. He removed his hands from his bloodshot eyes and gasped in horror when he saw the flames that had caught on the house and quickly looked for an escape and he only saw one. The window. Without thinking twice he jumped on the counter and squeezed through the rusty iron bars, thankfully being skinny enough to slip through them and fell outside of the burning house onto the cement pavement which scraped his skin terribly making it bleed but he didn't pay mind to it as he rushed away from the house but much to his horror he saw that his own house was set on fire as well.

The soldiers didn't just leave Santiago an orphan but homeless as well. They left him absolutely nothing and just when he thought he had little to begin with. He ate small portions of rice and mangos everyday since they had barely any money but it was all they could afford. 

Three days later Santiago wandered the streets of Havana, dirty, starving and droopy eyed. He tried to stay in the shadows and ignore the pitying stares he got but no one dared to help him, afraid of helping the child of a dead rebel. Santiago walked behind a restaurant and rubbed his arm looking around before going to the dumpster and started looking around for any decent scraps of food that wasn't rotten or infested with bugs. He winced when his fingers brushed the dirty fur of a rat but in reality he's dealt with worse creatures while living in the streets.

"Hey boy, what are you doing?" Santiago jumped in shock as he heard a deep voice of a man standing behind him. His brown eyes widened as he looked up at the six foot tall muscular male wearing a white and black suit, his face cleanly shaved and his graying black hair was slicked back. "I asked you a question."

"I'm looking for something to eat." Santiago whispered making the man's dark eyes widened in shock. He was pale but Cuban's could be any skin tone since they were a combination of Africans and Spaniards. "Please don't call the soldiers-"

"Chico, if there is something I hate it's those sons of bitches." The man snorted in disgust spitting on the dirty pavement at the thought of Castro's men. "What's your name?"

"Santiago and you?" He asked timidly.

"Diego, tell me Santiago, where are your parents?" Diego asked cautiously.

"The soldiers killed them along with my aunt then they set my house on fire along with my aunt's." Santiago sniffed wiping his dirty nose making Diego set his jaw in anger. Many people believed Castro would be the salvation of Cuba but they didn't know the kind of man he was. The murder he and Che really were. He remembered when he was younger and his mother could get raped everyday by his father who worked for Castro. He remembered getting beaten himself and his father killing his mother one day. He remembered living in the streets and no one helping him until he learned himself to make money making cigars and selling them to toothless old men. Diego took a deep breath looking around before nodding to himself.

"Well I'll give you two options. One, stay here and keep looking for food in a nasty garbage can or you can come with me and I'll show you how to avenge your family. It's up to you." Diego offered and Santiago was quiet for a really long time before he nodded.

"I'll go with you."