Post by Spartan on Feb 9, 2020 5:13:22 GMT -5
“Everyone has a plan until they’ve been hit.” – Joe Lewis
***
Tristan Cross is alone in his apartment.
He has just recently made the cross-country trek back from Florida to California. He is still nursing injuries from the brutal beating he received from the hands of Voshon ‘The Ghost’ Jackon at APW’s Omega pay-per-view event. As Spartan, he knew he should have put together a better fight, but as Tristan Cross he felt his heart wasn’t in the fight. As Christmas approached, Cross found his thoughts had been wandering to his estranged children more and more. He enjoyed his wrestling career, but found that his blood was worth more than any gold to him, cheers from the crowd or recognition from the media. Cross was still internalising the loss of the North American Title to Steven Osbourne at Horrorkore when he came into contact with bravado of Jackson. He had to fight - but he failed. Now that he was home, he realised that finding a way to become part of offspring’s life was more important the World Heavyweight Title. So, while he was recovering from injuries that Jackson had inflicted upon him at Omega he penned his resignation letter to Irina Ivanova.
Right now, Cross was alone in his apartment. He is laying on the floor just staring at the ceiling. He allowed his mind to dance between the memories of his young children from playing in the yard, to making a mess just to annoy him to reading them bedtime stories to put to sleep - which was always followed by a sudden dehydration and a notoriously weak bladders. He smiled. They were happy memories
But his mind wandered, his mind wandered as it always did when he was alone - it wandered to the day he left work early and came home to find his wife with another man’s dick lodged in her throat. He remembered the beating he laid on that man. He remembered his daughter’s face when he struck her mother - it was a pure accident - but it should never have happened. He cried. He was full of regret. The tears ran down his face - it was in these moments that Tristan Cross needed to get out, to get away to be in the ring - training. To be on a basketball court - just playing. It was these moments that he just wanted to find that one bullet. But two things dragged always dragged him back from the precipice - the two smiling faces of Georgia and William. It was then he realised he was a mere few weeks away from Christmas and he wouldn’t feel the warmth of their arms around his body, he wouldn’t here the joy in the voices. He wouldn’t see the world light up in their eyes.
And once again he wishes he had that one bullet.
It was a vicious circle. The squared circle gave him temporary relief from darkness. But he needed something more than temporary. His relief had to be permanent, or his pain had to end.
He lay there alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. The silence was deafening until it was not. His circle of thought was broken by the generic ringtone of his cellphone. Cross rolled over to see who was calling him in Alpha Pro’s end of year break - it was Irina Ivanova. He didn’t feel like talking to her at this moment of time. He let her call go to voicemail. In the end, she was probably just ringing to acknowledge his resignation. His phone finally alerted him to the fact that he had received voicemail. He lazily reached over and slapped the combination of the touch screen and then his mailbox code to hear her a voice tell him that he was being wish all the best in his future endeavours. He put the phone on speaker, primarily because he was too lazy to hold it to his ear.
The wonderfully cultures tones of Russian aristocracy emanated from the phone as the subtly erotic voice of Irina Ivanova filled the apartment’s empty air space. “Comrade Spartanskiy, while I have your letter of resignation on my desk. I must inform you that I will be unable to accept it. However, I have a solution to your problem that will be mutually beneficial to both my company and the situation involving your offspring.”
The message ended with a click. There was no instruction to call back.
Tristan sat bolt upright, the message from Ivanova had woken him from his stupor. What was he to do?
Burning the world down.
That’s the easy part.
The hard part.
That comes next.
It’s the rebuilding. It’s taking everything that you hated, everything that you destroyed and building it into an empire that is worthy for everyone.
But, most of the time - all that happens - is that we have another pathetic self indulgent man in charge that is satisfying his own ego rather than leading the people to glory. Why do you think the Architects will be any different?
Truth is, I wholly don’t think they will - even if they get that far. A man like Damon Warrens will eventually clash with the rules of a man like Smith Jones and it will be glorious when they fail in their mission before it has even started. Or maybe that is why we have the wandering Lex Collins in the middle to balance the two ends. Either way, while I am standing in my current position - I will not allow this triumvirate to burn Alpha Pro down. I have made my commitment - while it may be a deal with a devil - it’s commitment. And come Monday Night Metal, my opponents - and my partner, if need be, will learn that rules have been laid down and rules will be enforced.
I will see to it. By any means necessary.
Tristan Cross was sitting in the middle of the floor of his apartment. The night has passed into the early morning, the early rays of the sunshine piercing through gaps in the curtains like delicate fingers reaching out and grabbing the solitary man than is Cross. In his hand, his cellphone. He replays the message he received from Irina Ivanova.
“Comrade Spartanskiy, while I have your letter of resignation on my desk. I must inform you that I will be unable to accept it. However, I have a solution to your problem that will be mutually beneficial to both my company and the situation involving your offspring.”
The tone and the content had left Cross in shock when he first heard it, even several hours after first receiving the message he is still somewhat dumbfounded. He had a plan, he was going to follow it out, now he has been hit by another shot. He’s been blindsided by an option he hadn’t considered. Now his mind is racing, his mind is confused. The grey cloud of indecision has descended over his mind. He does the only thing he can think to do.
He plays the voicemail again.
Damon Warrens.
The story goes that you consider yourself a man with an abject distaste for those in authority. Someone who prides themselves on being anti-establishment. An anarchist if you will. Yet, you find yourself in a group with Smith Jones and Lex Collins - The Architects. Men who would fashion the downfall of mankind to rebuild in their own image. To create their own establishment so to speak.
That seems hypocritical in the least.
But to err is to be human.
Hell, I know I have had my fair share of errors in my time. I can’t keep a title once I win it. It’s a pretty fatal flaw when it comes to industry where success is built on one’s ability to not only win titles, but to keep them. For now, I will just call it a rookie mistake - an inability to assess the situation in front of me when I am not chasing the prize. Or something like that.
No.
Scratch that.
I’m not making excuses. I lost my titles to men who beat me. I am not out to look for conspiracy theories. That would be weak.
I own the shame of my past. It has led me down this path.
So, Damon, while you are looking to usurp an establishment that in your own mind is holding you down. I will be here upholding the rules and the values of the order. We don’t need your brand of chaos. Chaos is not beneficial to anyone. Chaos does not bring the people up. It only brings the people down, because people as a general rule seek their own power. How long before you undermine Smith Jones because you crave the glory of the World Heavyweight Championship. People like you speak a certain way and tell a certain story but in the end people like you are exactly the same as the overlords as you supposedly seek to overthrow for the benefit of all. When the truth is, you only speak the power for the benefit of you. Well, Damon, let me assure you, that in Alpha Pro wrestling the ruling class will not destabilize their establishment.
I will do what is necessary to stop you - Villain.
Not because I am a hero, I am anything but, Damon. But I have a job to do. And your history and your words have put you on my radar. As such, I must stand in your way to ensure that you don’t get the chance to enact what I think you are capable of. It’s just one of those things when it comes to this business.
It’s nothing personal… yet.
Day has once again passed to night and Tristan Cross has forgotten to eat or drink over the course of time. He has been pondering the unsolicited offer that has been put in his lap by Irina Ivanova. He is tired, but his mind will stop moving - for feels like the millionth time over the last twenty four hours, Cross replays Irina’s voicemail once more.
“Comrade Spartanskiy, while I have your letter of resignation on my desk. I must inform you that I will be unable to accept it. However, I have a solution to your problem that will be mutually beneficial to both my company and the situation involving your offspring.”
Do you really think you can trust them, Lex?
Sure, Smith seems a man of values, but he only called you AFTER he lost his title to Dean Wolf? He wanted and needed backup to regain the thing he values more than anything else in this world. Even more than his son. Think about that for a minute, Lex. Then when those thoughts have flowed their course - think about how much your daughter means to you. Could you really put the ring above her. If you can, then I guess you and the World Heavyweight Champion are a good match for each other. But if you can’t how do you rationalise, as a human being, as parent standing next to a man that doesn’t have those same family values as yourself.
Truthfully, to me, it's irrelevant, you gotta do what’s right for you. But me, I’m not sure I could do that. I haven’t seen my children for over a year and that’s on me. But, I have constructed a path to change that narrative. All things going to plan… my daughter and my son will be my arms sooner rather than later. But that’s not the story for now. The story for now - that’s how you stand as an Architect. We already know that you and Smith don’t place the same value on family.
But you and Damon Warrens. I see nothing in common.
Maybe I have tunnel vision, maybe I am blinkered because it suits my argument. Maybe I just don’t know enough but everything I know of you sees you standing the opposite corner to Warrens. Yet, here you are standing arm in arm like a newlywed couple. The man who has built his career, nay, built his life in the ring. And still fights for his daughter. Next to the man who wants nothing more than to see Rome burn.
Maybe opposites to really attract.
Time will tell.
See you in the ring.
Tristan Cross plays the message one more time, completely unaware that it is the midnight hour.
“Comrade Spartanskiy, while I have your letter of resignation on my desk. I must inform you that I will be unable to accept it. However, I have a solution to your problem that will be mutually beneficial to both my company and the situation involving your offspring.”
As the message comes to an end he waits for the little pre-recorded voice to tell him to press five to call back. When he hears her voice he presses five on his touch screen. He allows the phone ring. He takes the phone off speaker and holds it to his ear. It answers and allows the seductive Russian on the other end to speak, then he speaks.
“I think I want to know about this offer, Irina.”
