Post by Spartan on Oct 10, 2019 18:01:45 GMT -5
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Spiritual, the Myrna Loy Statue stands behind Tristan Cross in jeans and a plan black t-shirt, and of course his resplendent ginger beard that is meticulously cared dominates his facial features. This is not Grease and Tristan Cross is not Danny Zuko. This is not Rydell High. This is Venice High School, the alma mater of Cross. He looks at the statue for a few moments before moving through the building’s double blue doors. Cross makes his way through the halls of the high school before eventually finding himself in the school’s basketball hall. Standing in the middle of the basketball court with a ball in hand, in a pair of black shorts and a school polo shirt in the navy blue of the Gondoliers. The man in the middle of the court looks like an older Tristan Cross, with grey hair and clean shaven. He is Gregory Cross, the father of Tristan Cross, and the coach of the Venice High Gondoliers Varsity Basketball team for time immeasurable. The junior Cross makes his way across the hardwood to the senior Cross. Father and son embrace.
“How you doing, son?” asks Gregory Cross of his son after the pair release their familial embrace.
“Good, Dad.” Tristan Cross says in as few words as possible, as he normally does.
“What took you so long?” never one to mince words, the senior Cross immediately pushes his son for answers as to why it has him so long to visit his father since returning to Los Angeles after the breakdown of his marriage.
“Getting myself right.” Cross answers back, while looking down at his feet, almost ashamed to look his father in the eye.
“You seen your mother yet?”
“Not yet, Dad?”
His father looks at him with the stern eyes that only a parent can impart on a child - loving but disappointed. “So, let me get this straight. You come back home, from the other side of the world, because your wife is a whore.”
“Dad...” Tristan Cross interjects.
Ignoring him, the senior Cross continues, “The first people you see are your friends. The lounge you sleep on is your friends. The job you get is with your friends and when you finally find the time to see your family you come and see me in the high school gym.”
“Dad…” Tristan tries to speak.
But on his soapbox and with momentum his father speaks over the top of him and continues on his rant. “Not only that, we find out that you have signed custody of our grandchildren over to the whore. And…”
“Dad!” The younger Cross raises his voice to try and speak over his father. It is not successful.
“...you started a whole new career as a wrestler and through all of this you couldn’t find the time to visit your mother. Despite the fact you staying in the same damn shitty city as where you grew up. Hell, forget visiting, you couldn’t even find the time to look up your contacts in your phone, find the family phone number that hasn’t changed for thirty years and call your mother. Son, where are your priorities.”
Finally, the older Cross stops to catch his breath and looks at his son with eyes burning brightly into his face.
“Dad…” Tristan Cross speaks, “I was ashamed.”
“What for? Ashamed, because your wife is a whore. Don’t be a fool.”
“I was ashamed because I failed. I am ashamed that I quit. I didn’t fight for my family. I should of done more.”
Tears well in the eyes of Tristan Cross and he stops talking as those tears run down his face. His father reaches into his pocket and hands him a handkerchief to wipe his face.
“Don’t be, Tristan. I heard what happened. Better than spending time behind bars. I heard what you did to the asshole that lacked any respect. And, Tris, I’m going to be straight up honest with you here. I would have done the exact damn thing had I been in your shoes and you know what I don’t know if I wouldn't have knocked your mother out either. That fact you didn’t do that - that shows your a good man, probably a better man than me.”
“But, Georgia and William…” Tristan Cross trails.
His father picks up the thought “Will know their father loves them. And I know the arrangement means you can’t see them until they turn fourteen. It’s bullshit, but if you do the right thing - like I know you will - then they will be waiting with open arms when you come to see me. And you know what? There is nothing to stop your Mother and I going to see them. We’ll make damn sure they know you love them. No matter what lies that whore tries to tell them about you.”
Tristan Cross hands the handkerchief back to his father, who returns it to the pocket from whence it came.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Gregory Cross reaches up and puts a hand on the shoulder of his son. “Anytime Tris. Now get home and see your Mother before she yells at me again because you haven’t been to see her will you.”
“Sure. Can I get a ball first?”
“Same place as always.”
Spartan sits on a new wooden stool in front of the Alpha Pro Wrestling banner in APW Headquarters in San Diego. The stylised font of the APW logo is dominant on the black backdrop. Spartan, himself, black sweatpants and a white “Spartan” t-shirt, that grips to his physique to highlight every muscular groove of his torso and upper arms. He sports the new black “Spartan” hat on the top of his head and the ginger beard of glory sits prominently on his jaw.
Spartan turns the hat around, so it sits backwards on his head and back is on the front.
“Same. Same. But different.”
“It’s a remarkably common saying in this day and age. But it really rings true for me when it comes to this upcoming edition of Alpha Pro Wrestling’s Monday Night Metal. Because once again I find myself standing across the ring from the Xtreme Aerialist, Jaice Wilds. First time, it was a triangle match with Road Dawg.. Second time, was just a few weeks ago, in a straight up battle of wills. This third time, it’s a tag team match, with myself teaming with Tsukiko and Jaice Wilds teaming with one half of Fourgasm, Kylie Moore.”
“Spartan versus Jaice Wilds.”
“Same. Same. But different.”
“See, Jaice - while this seems to be the start of a budding rivalry between you and I. Once again standing across the ring from one another the circumstances of each battle has been completely different in its etymology. The first time our paths crossed you caught me in my second match ever - after battling through what is known as the most violent match in wrestling’s history - One Big Brawl. You won, didn’t pin me - pinned Road Dawg - but the result was the same as if you pinned me. You won, I lost.”
“Can’t change those facts, can I?”
“The coming around to our second meeting - you know the one, where there Xtreme Aerialist went mano-e-mano with Spartan. No distractions, no fluff, no white noise. Just two men battling it out with nothing but pride on the line. The result of that one was a little different to the last one. I won. You lost. Which brings us to this week - the third go around the merry-go-round. Like children on a water slide we just keep getting back to the top and start our little journey again. I can handle that. Ideally, you and me would be going all out with the peripheral, but they are there and that won’t change Wilds. Still, one of us is going to come out ahead in the win loss column in what could be called our rubber match.”
Spartan pauses.
“Remind me never to say that to Steven Osbourne.”
“Once again, we find ourselves on a different trajectory in this match - right Jaice? This is what makes our third fight more like our second fight than our first fight. Who’s on the rise and who’s on the slide. Round one - it started with me coming so close without any biscuits. Sure you jumped in the same Brawl that I did - but you had momentum from your weeks of ‘mystery’ hype as X. Then again, you avoided a good chunk of that Brawl hiding out on the commentary table - only coming in at the end. Whereas I was there in the thick of the action from the first bell until the last bell. But come the finish and the aftermath it would be you in that surge of energy. And that could be seen when we fell into the ring. You took the momentum and you took the match.”
“Flash forward to our second match. The tides had turned. I was the one flying high on a wave of momentum and you, you were the one that was struggling. On that day we through fists and feet with the best of them - but it was my turn to be victorious, right Jaice? I don’t know about you, but in my mind the losses burn brighter than the memory of any victory possibly could. That day I used the memory of defeat to ensure that I wasn’t going to feel it again - not in the ring with you.”
“Of course, we come to this upcoming Metal - tag team action - I am still riding high, like a surfer on the peak of an incoming tsunami. You, Jaice, I’ve lost count of how many you’ve lost in a row. Are you going to use those burning memories of defeat to defeat me?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“But, you’ve always said you are legend - built not on your successes, but on your ability to rebound from your setbacks. At least that’s what you told the Provocateur anyway. Which sort of stuck in my mind. It made me think that I needed to do a compare and contrast between you and I, since we seem to be linked like conjoined twins in this early history of Alpha Pro.”
“What did I do when you got the better of me if I first battle. I walked into Alpha Showdown against the Hardcore Champion, Dean Wolf and a bonafide legend, Zombie McMorris and shocked the shit of out the world by walking out Hardcore Champion.”
“I lost the Hardcore Title back to Dean Wolf at Ascension in the match of the night - possibly match of the year. I came back to Allen Anderson apart at Jubeilation and then I took the North American Title from Road Dawg - who at the time was Alpha Pro’s longest reigning champion.”
“Now let’s look at you. And I we’ll just go back to Ascension when you beat Allen Anderson. The next Metal you came out and lost to Noris Cranley - who has already faded from existence. How did you respond?
“Jubeilation II. Pinata Scramble. You lost.”
“Monday Night Metal. You lost - but I’ll give you a pass on that one.”
“We know what the next one was - I beat you, remember. Revolutionizer. One. Two. Three.”
“Supremacy. You lost. Again.”
“Metal. Contenders Tournament. You lost.”
“And you say you built your legendary career on the way your rebounded from when you were knocked down. At this stage you’re going to have to call Coach K and the Redeem Team to even get back to the surface.”
“I get you, Jaice - you keep coming. Got to pay that respect. And I’m not naive enough to think this hot streak of mine isn’t going to end one day. Maybe sooner. Maybe later. But Jaice as for right now - I am going to ride this rocket to Smith Jones and unfortunately - I am going to send a little bit further down that slippery slope you are on.”
Spartan repositions himself on his stool, and stretches before leaning forward just a little bit.
“Now, Kylie - I know you are on the same side of the ring as Jaice and I wasn’t ignoring you. But fact is; Jaice and I we have shared history and that needed to be addressed before I turned my attention to you.”
“Now I could go the Fuckin A route and just dismiss you. Oh and Kylie Moore I guess she is teaming with Jaice Wilds. Meh.”
“But I won’t do that. While I don’t know a lot about you Kylie Moore and times I have seen you in Alpha Pro you have held yourself with aplomb. You and your partner, Lili Rose stole the Party Bus from under the nose of Luke Force’s goons. And there is no shame in dropping one to the team of Smith Jones and Dean Wolf. But you managed to drop a match to Alex Scott in there is well.”
“So I can’t really say where that puts you in the whole order of things. But, what I can tell you is that when you step into the ring on any day is that you have to give me your full attention, you can’t allow distractions to overcome your mind. Because if they do - I will, without a doubt hoist you upon my shoulders and send your spiralling down to the canvas with the Revolutionizer and that’s right after I take the wind from your lungs with a powerful spear right into your diaphragm.”
“See, I’m a little bit like your tag team partner. I don’t know when to quit and I have to be damn near to be killed to keep me down for a three count - go back, watch Ascension if you don’t believe me. And you still have doubts; pick up the phone, dial Dean Wolf and ask him exactly what it takes to keep me down for those three important seconds.”
“And you will struggle to do that with nothing on the horizon. Let alone, now, when you are watching the Bad Moon Rising.”
“Undoubtedly, Kylie - you are talented. But are you focussed. I haven’t seen it - but I have heard of the domination you and Alyssa Jenkins enjoyed… before her… well, suicide. I can’t speak for the events leading to the events - don’t know them. But, the rumours are you spiralled into oblivion, you lost the fire, you lost the focus. And that still hasn’t returned. Sure, we see glimpses, like at Jubeilation - but we haven’t seen that Alliance domination - well I haven’t anyway. Why? I don’t know - Not my judgment to pass, but when it comes to Monday Night Metal - I do have a judgement to pass.”
“My victory, your defeat.”
Spartan rolls his neck.
“See, I get your desire to compete, Kylie. It’s the same desire that drives me every time I step into the ring. It’s the same desire that’s driven in every venture I have ever undertaken. From hardwood of High School Basketball to canvas of Alpha Pro Wrestling everything I do is underwritten by the unquenchable thirst of competition. So I understand why you returned to the ring. But let me tell you something for free here, Kylie. Just because you crave competition doesn’t mean that you will succeed. Too many elements out of your control - and one Metal there is one important element that you can’t control no matter what you try.”
“That element?”
“You guessed it.”
“Me.”
“I can wish you all the best, But on Metal there is something I wish to see more than anything else. And that’s your failure and I will be the one to bring it upon you.”
“In the ring - I will strike hard and without mercy and if you are the one that is standing in the way than you will be the one to fall to your knees before me. That’s not a promise. That’s not a threat. It’s just the outcome of the fight.”
“Nothing personal, Kylie. Just the way I am. I come to the ring with an intensity that threatens people. Just ask Road Dawg - he told me to calm down and enjoy myself. Why? I really don’t know - I am guessing because he was afraid of the force he expected me to hit him with.”
“Are you afraid?”
“I hope not - because when you let the fear overcome you - you rarely bring everything have. And when I beat you, if you have down without giving it your all. My victory will have a degree of hollowness to it.”
“Don’t let my victory be hollow, Moore.”
Spartan stands from his stool.
“Sure on paper this looks like a mish-mash of mixed up personalities on paper. But when you really look at it, both teams have a lot more in common than you think. You got Kylie Moore and Jaice Wilds - veterans with a modicum of success. They love the competition and they keep coming back for more after every defeat. Then you have me, Spartan and Tsukiko, the Fox. Two warriors that will always go to war. To warriors that will always seek the greater challenge - just to push their limits.”
“Jaice Wilds and Kylie Moore - your losers.”
“Spartan and Tsukiko - your winners.”
“Yeh that sounds harsh, but the truth often is.”
“In the end it’s…”
“Same. Same. But different.”
Spartan walks off leaving on the dominant Alpha Pro Wrestling Graphic. Fade Out.
