Post by Spartan on Jun 21, 2020 20:18:34 GMT -5
No one sees him.
No one cares.
Fire
No one cares.
Fire
Tristan Cross sits in the darkness of his apartment surrounded by nothing but the constant hum of the city in the background. The blackout curtains that adorn his double glass doors onto his balcony keep the light out except for the faintest polluted glow around their edges.
His legs crossed in front of him on the edge of his mattress. He wears nothing but a pair of black shorts and leaves his mammoth torso free of cloth. The dim glow hides the fire that burns in his eyes. That naked frame protects the rage that boils within the acids of his stomach. His shallow breathing his all that shows he is still of the mortal realm. His firsts are clenched and rest peacefully on his knees.
Peace is shattered.
Cross lifts his fists from their place of rest and starts pounding them into the side of his head, inflicting pain upon himself. Each ham hock sized hand slams against its sickening thud against its corresponding temple with a sickening thud, left after right after left. Each brutal blow seems to bring a smile to the face of Cross as the physical pain, and bodily hurt continues it seems to quell the beast of emotional damage that wracks the mind of the man that wrestles as Spartan.
Slowly the fury subsides.
Slowly.
Cross rises to his feet.
He stares at the bare drywall.
He slams his fist into the gyprock.
He slams it again.
Again.
Again.
The anguish floods the face of Tristan Cross until the adrenaline fades, and he collapses to the floor in a mess of tears, shame, and bloodied knuckles.
He hates her.
“You know, Jason Ryan, you come into Action Wrestling with a loudmouth, a lot of talk but not a lot walk. You came in, you lost, you lost, you lost again and then you lost some more. But, then something happened, your mouth talked yourself into a World Title shot. You lost the first time, but you learned something for probably the first time in your career, and you beat Damon Warrens to capture the Alpha Pro World Title. Let me give you credit for that Jason. But that is the last piece of praise I will give you. From this moment forward, Jason I will supply you with the same disrespect that you give this business. You are a pitiful lowlife piece of shit that exploits the life force of others for your own self aggrandization. You are precisely the type of person I can’t stand. You are the type of person that gives humanity a bad name. You are…
No.
There isn’t an adequate enough word in any language on this planet to describe you. Just let me say that we need people in this world that are better than you if we are ever going to heal.
I hate you, Jason Ryan.
I don’t know you well enough, Zaigon Carter, to say that I hate you the I hate Jason. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t find a reason to channel a fire from deep within my soul and expel it against you like Drogon destroying the Iron Throne. Luckily for you, though, I have been predisposed within my issues to pay much heed to you.
That’s poor on my part - I accept that.
I don’t even know how many matches you have won or how many you have lost. Shit, I don’t even know who you have wrestled. That lack of knowledge won’t stop me coming after you the same I will go after the petulant little fool we are fighting on Metal.
But…
I will still destroy you in that ring.
Just it won’t be personal. Not yet.”
Water
The first time he heard her voice it was like icy water traveling through his body freezing ever artery in their place while she asserted her wishes into his mind. He had acquiesced to her arrangement in his frightened and desperate state.
He was frozen by his fear.
Not his fear of her, but by the fear of what was found but out of reach. Fear of his children being gone from his life forever.
He made the deal with, Irina Ivanova the Russian Ice Queen herself.
It was against his better judgment but it was at a time in his life where he was more concerned with what he wanted than by how he would be judged.
Each meeting with her, the gaze of the icy gaze of her eyes froze him in situ, like the Weeping Angel of Science Fiction lore, unable to move until she turned away. Each time her perfectly manicured finger traced his jawline, he felt his veins turn to ice, shaking with a full-body shiver that seemed to delight her in a way that bordered the line between psychotic and erotic.
He hated it.
He didn’t hate her.
But he hated what she had done to him.
“Ebbs and Flows, Jason. That’s what the wrestling world is, an environment that is in a constant state of flux. People come, people go, sometimes they make instant noise, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes people ride incredible waves of momentum to reach a peak they’ll only reach one. Not many stay the course, but those that do, like Odin Balfore, like Corey Black, like Alex Richards, like Bonnie Blue, riding the waves of our industry for eternity and everyone who speaks of them speaks of them in hushed reverie.
I’d hope you reach their echelon.
You won’t.
You made noise on your entry to this world. Lots of drum banging, tire kicking, window-smashing, pointless FUCKING yelling.
I guess it worked.
People noticed you.
They came to despise you.
But something happened.
You found yourself in a one in a million event and you somehow captured the title that you lusted over from the moment you started to fellate yourself in our general direction. But it won’t last when the next wave comes it will be a fucking tsunami and it will wash you away with detritus of society and you will be forgotten.
Where you belong.
And once again, Carter. I am neglecting to place you on the waves of the world, but I’d be a hypocrite to suddenly paint you with the same brush as Jason Ryan when I told you I don’t know well enough to paint you with anything.
But I do know of your plots and plans to hook yourself to the coattails of our champion and ride in his wake. You are a fool if you think he won’t try and drown on a rocky outcrop once he has taken care of me.
But I will let it go for now.
Because I believe in giving everyone a chance.
Perhaps too many.
But understand this, Carter, when you meet me in the surf. I will be that Great White sent to devour you for stepping into my domain.
I might not get you the first time.
Or even the second.
But I will get you.”
Earth
William and Georgia were his rocks. The fruits of his loin, the foundation upon which his world was built. Everything has done in this life he has done for them.
He has made mistakes, sure. But has always thought to build up what is around them not tear things down.
Foundations need to be strong.
Support needs to be rigid.
And no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the conditions they can’t fail.
You can’t build a house on quicksand.
So to speak.
You need to ensure everything that you build is built in such a manner that it can withstand all the elements. And when the calm returns it is still standing. It doesn’t need to be prettiest, the newest, the fanciest. It doesn’t need grandeur.
It just has to be strong.
He was always ensuring that he was building on bedrock. It was all for William and Georgia.
No matter what anyone else tried to do.
They were his grounding reason for existence.
“I carry this company on my shoulders, Ryan. Not from the first day, but close enough to it. Each day I step into the ring, I ensure that I am the man who keeps things going. So many have come and gone before me. I have watched them all. Some showed promised.
Some showed nothing.
But all have come and gone.
Look around.
Who has stood longer and as committed as I to the cause of Alpha Pro Wrestling? Steve Osbourne? A man who is more concerned with the color of the condom than hard work. Masuda Jubei? A man who is more interested in the sojourns of self-discovery.
Not men you want to do the hard work.
Then there’s you.
Coming into my world and making a ruckus Shaking the trees to see what falls out. Throwing around petty insults like a blind man throws darts just hoping one will find the target.
But soon enough you will fall like the rest.
And you will be gone like the rest.
And I will be here, holding world of Alpha Pro Wrestling like Atlas of legend.
The Architects came and threatened to destroy this place and refashion in their own image.
They are gone.
You should know, like a scavenger you have profited from the rubble they left behind, you picked the carcass of Warrens clean for the trinket you hold so close. But Alpha Pro still stands on my shoulders. And soon enough you will soon join the carrion you picked clean.
Under my feet.
What becomes of you, Zaigon Carter? As a newcomer, you could become the next pillar of Alpha Pro, or could become another crumbled concrete block, covered in graffiti and gathering dust.
The choice is really yours.
But, Carter, no matter what choice you make, you need to know that I will not crumble like all those who have crumbled in the past. I may bend. I may bow. But
I will not break.
Make your choices carefully.
Wind
Coming and going, toing and froing, pushing and pulling. He can stare into the sky on a clear and watch the wind move the clouds into position and alter their shape, he can watch them moved away and gone into the ether. Only his memory left to say what was once left behind.
From the gentle breeze to the gust of the hurricane. The wind is as silent as it is loud and it achieves what it needs without ever showing itself in the first place.
It is invisible.
But you feel it when it is there.
And you can feel when it is not.
Winds of change have washed over Tristan in the past few years of his life.
Like a whirlwind.
He was married.
He moved across the world.
He had children.
He got divorced.
He moved home.
He found Alpha Pro.
Gust after gust pushed him to his next point.
But now he was still and everyone else was blowing by him at a rate of knots.
“Full of hot air and bluster, that was how you blew into Alpha Pro, Jason. It was effective for you and has lead to achieve more success than I have managed in this place. But the speed of which you move, you will never call this place home the way I do. Something new and shiny and you will ride the next gust out into the ether. Because that’s what you do, Ryan. It’s obvious you look to cause as much chaos and confusion as you can before you disappear into nothing and you are nothing but a forgotten annotation in a dusty long unread storybook. You lack the substance to become anything more. Your attention span lacks the ability to look for anything other than social media scores.
I pity you for your own insignificance.
I hate for your own stupidity.
But you bought most of that on yourself. I must apologize to you though, Jason. I misspoke when I called the title you hold a trinket. It is more than that. Men like Jubei, Jones, Warrens, and dare I say Wolf made it some to value, but unfortunately in your hands it is being tarnished quicker than sands through the hourglass.
But that will change.
Because when the wind blows next you will lose that title.
And when the wind blows again.
You will be gone.
How long before the winds of change take you away, Zee? I’ve seen men and women with bigger reputations pass through quicker than you. And I have seen other men and women with nothing but a pair of shoes and a poor grasp of the language of the ring turn up week after and week and tough it out.
Are you weak?
Or are you strong?
Tell me Zee.
Or don’t.
I will find out of my own accord when our paths cross on Metal.
In true sincerity, I hope you can stay and fight.
Become something more than a fragile kite torn apart in a hurricane.
I can’t dictate thought. Only you can do that. Only you can become what you can become. I am only here in the ring as your opponent to defeat you this week on Metal. And when that changes may you make the next steps on your own road.”
Tristan Cross rises from his position slumped against the wall.
He opens his curtains and stares out into the abyss of artificial light below him.
No one sees him.
No one cares.
