Post by Spartan on Oct 16, 2019 5:02:12 GMT -5
Tristan Cross is in his workout gear in the middle of the rundown wrestling ring that he first started training in with Jerry Eisenhower early in two thousand and nineteen. Since that time, Tristan has gone on to become one of the hottest new stars in the industry - wrestling under the name, Spartan in the prestigious Alpha Pro Wrestling.
At this moment he is sitting on the dirty canvas, legs crossed and shirtless. He is fiddling with his glorious ginger beard. To another eye he would appear to be daydreaming, but the man is lost in thought. The thought of the past, the thought of the present and the thought of the future, all rolling into one indecipherable blur as he stares into the ceiling lights. He shaken from said thoughts by the unmistakable hoarseness of the voice of Jerry Eisenhower.
“Whaddya doin Son?” questions Eisenhower of Cross.
Jerry Eisenhower walks closer to the ring, he is accompanied by a friend, who looks very much like Justin Beiber before Beiber tried to grow facial hair and decided that cheap tattoos were a cool thing to do.
“Hey, Jerry. Welcome back.” Cross answers.
“Didn’t answer the question, Son.” retorts Eisenhower.
Cross shakes his head in disbelief. Despite having known this man for the last six months or so and walking hard to impress him in every aspect of training - he is still surprised the crotchety unreasonable attitude that Eisenhower always puts forth.
“Thinking, Jerry.” Cross answers the question. “Who’s that.”
Eisenhower and his associate stop as the reach the low apron of the ring in which Cross is sitting.
“This is Brooksy. Brooksy meet Cross. Cross meet Brooksy.” Eisenhower introduces with a certain degree of uncaring nonchalance.
“Hey.” says Brooksy with a wave.
Tristan Cross noos acceptance of Brooksy’s greeting.
“Say hello, don’t be rude, Son.” Eisenhower chastises Tristan.
“Hi.” says Cross.
“Hi” repeats Brooksy.
Brooksy is Alex Brooks. He was the original protege of Jerry Eisenhower and even though he is approaching thirty he stills keeps his boyish appearance.
“So, Son. Whaddya thinkin about?” pushes Eisenhower.
“Stuff.” Cross answers. He had no real clarity of his thoughts.
“Stuff? Stuff? What sort of answer is that. Are you twelve?” Eisenhower grills Cross as he sits himself on the ring apron. “Brooksy go into the office over there.” Eisenhower waves his hands in the general direction of his office door.
“Yeh. Stuff. I don’t know, Jerry. Just thinking, really. Maybe about staying on top of the game in the ring.”
Eisenhower snorts derisively. The sound makes Alex Brooks look back as he leaves the trainer and new trainee and enters the office. Cross looks at Eisenhower with a look of confusion. Eisenhower recognises this and talks.
“Top of your game, you say? You ain’t the top of anything, Cross. Nothing.”
“I just won the APW North American Title.”
“So. I just took a shit that took three flushes to get down.”
“You know that two titles in three months, right?
“Like I said I just took a shit. Son, you got nothing. Sorry to break it to you.”
“Jerry…” Cross tries to speak.
“No.” Eisenhower cuts him off. “You listen, It’s my turn to talk son. You’ve got nothing. Sure, you’re having a bit of success right now, Son. But, how long is it going to last, and when people work you out what are you going to do the, How are you going to adapt? Don’t answer that.”
Eisenhower takes a pause, and raises his finger to indicate he hasn’t finished talking and for Tristan Cross to remain quiet. “ You’re acting all proud of yourself because you’ve had a modicum of success early on. Please. Come to me in two years when if you are still dominating then you’ll have something.”
Eisenhower rolls under the bottom rope into his ring, and sits up facing Cross.
“I’ve watched you. You are the most impressive physical specimen in Alpha Pro right now,”
“Thanks.”
“Not a fucking compliment. But that will change, someone will come along and they will impose themselves on you. What are you going to do then?”
“Fight back.”
Eisenhower laughs.
“What with you bullshit I’m a warrior andI fight schtick. Please, it’s laughable. A man like you right now shouldn’t be standing in the ring calling for challengers. You should be walking around smashing people in the head and demanding they fight you. You’ve had Dean Wolf and Smith Jones use you as a pawn in your petty fuckin arguments over whether to you go hardcore or not. And what do you do?”
Eisenhower stands up and looks down upon Cross.
“You do nothing. That’s what. You get into a little fucking sing-a-long with the crowd. Pathetic, Son, fucking pathetic. What you should be doing is demanding they get into the ring with you and proving themselves against the greatest athlete in the building. Pity you’re so weak of fucking mind. Because, one day those athletic gifts of yours they are going to fade away. And then what do you have. A nice guy attitude and a nice guy losing streak. You’ll be like Jaice Wilds with a six pack and a ginger beard.”
Cross just stares at Eisenhower as he continues to talk down to him.
“I’m sixty three years old and I’ve been doing this shit for forty five years, Son. I’ve seen enough bright fucking stars light up the sky and explode quicker than Challenger. And I see your face all upset there, but if you don’t face these home truths you are going to be one of those dead bodies, Son. I know, you ain’t even been a lifer like me. Or even Brooksy. But you have to know that nice guys finish fucking last eventually because they lack the balls to take what they want let alone what they deserve.”
Eisenhower stops walks and stands right over the top of Spartan looking down on him from a position of dominance.
“Look at you! Right now, I have been speaking to you like you a piece of fucking shit and still you sit there and take it. You should be on your feet getting ready to fight, at the very least if not already have slammed on into my jaw to shut me the fuck up. With your weakness - how do you expect to ever do anything.”
Cross looks up at Eisenhower and he stares down at him, “”I’m not that, Jerry. And I don’t think I need to be like that.”
“Well you’re wrong. Look around, you crazy woman obsessed with conspiracies and meth heads wearing World Titles. Even look in your own backyard in Alpha Pro - the World Champion would cut anyone to pieces who tries to take his title and you think giving bro hugs to losers makes you cool. Newsflash, son. It don’t. It makes you another chump that is a good news story occasionally. Fodder to the real champions.”
Cross finally stands up, his muscled frame towers over Eisenhower.
“Jerry - you’re wrong.”
Eisenhower now looking up at Cross takes a couple of steps back and starts circling him.
“No I’m not. You are going to lose your jump you are going to get figured out and everyone is going to beat you like they beat Allen Anderson, because you are afraid to take what you want - fucking coward.”
“I ain’t no coward.” Cross says, the anger rising in his voice as he pivots to follow Eisenhower. “I’ll fight anyone.”
“You’re a fucking coward - you are afraid just to beat someone. You’ll fight the good fight and you’ll be honorable. TRISTAN - look at you! You are a beast, no one should touch you. But you need to find a mean streak. Don’t be like Brooksy and be so fucking nice that everyone takes advtantage of you.”
Eisenhower stops and punches Cross in the gut. Cross lets a loud ‘oomph’ sound go.
“See, doing nothing. Weak. Pathetic. Coward.”
Cross grabs Eisenhower on the shoulder and stops him walking he speaks through clenched teeth. “Not a coward and I will fight anyone. And I will not quit.”
Eisenhower knocks Cross’ hand off. “Not my point, Son. Ya not getting it. But whatever. Tell me, you’ve got Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze this week in a triangle match. What are you going to do?”
“Win.”
“How?”
“By taking them front on and winning.”
“You’re thinking too simple, Son. Men like Dave and Blaze - you shouldn’t even be thinking of it even being a fight, A man like you shouldn’t even be thinking about the, They are nothing to you, and that’s how you should be thinking. But, you won’t because you are a coward. You lack killer instinct. You rely on your physical tools and you’ve got nothing else.”
“They are opponents and competitors - they deserve respect.”
“NO! No, they don’t. That is where you are wrong, Son. Jobber Dave is second rate bum fighter who steals food so he can eat. He crawls around dumpsters lookin for the leftovers of the important parts of society. He is the shit on the bottom of my shoe. He doesn’t belong in the ring with you. He doesn’t even belong in the same building as you. And you have to treat him as such.”
“No I don’t. He’s an earnest fighter and always give his best.”
“Would you just listen to yourself, here, Son. I don’t give if Dave always gives his best. His best is shit compared to you. But, again, men like Dave will beat you and embarrass you because you won’t go for the jugular. But, if you’re not going to listen to me, Son. What am I to do. Keep you honorable warrior shit going but don’t come crying to me like a baby looking for its mama's tit when you staring at lights.”
“I will prove you this week, Jerry, you’ll see.”
Eisenhower puts his hands to his face.
“Are you listening?”
“I’ve heard every word, Jerry,” says Cross his face beetroot red.
“Exactly, you fucking heard. You haven’t listened. It’s not about this week, it’s not about next. But there will come a time when you have nothing left and you will lose because you will only go so far as the honorable warrior and then you are going to get found out, but now I am fucking repeating myself because you either stupid or blind to the facts. In fact, you are a bit like Johnny Blaze - just fucking lost.”
“Blaze isn’t lost.”
“Yes, he is, Son. He fights in the memory of a father who didn’t want to know him. Like you he refuses the facts that are in the mirror. He’s another one you shouldn’t barely be acknowledging but instead you give respect and bring them up to your level when they don’t deserve to be there, Son.”
“Another reason you are a loser.”
Cross sees red. His face burns bright and he grabs Eisenhower by both shoulders and lifts him to his eyeline, holding his face close to his own. “I AM NOT A LOSER, JERRY!”
Eisenhower smiles. “There it is.”
“WHAT!?”
“The fire, Son. the desire to find the next level.”
Cross drops Eisenhower to the mat. Cross looks down at Jerry “You did this to make me angry?”
Eisenhower looks up at Cross, half sitting, half on his side looks up at Cross, “No, Son. I need you to find the killer instinct because I watch everything you do, Son. You give far too much credit to the men and women you face. Men like Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze who lack the talent, the heart and anything else you can think of, to even belong in the ring with you, Son.”
Eisenhower pushes himself to his feet. “Men like Jobber Dave who make a living being other people punching bags. Men like him belong on the bottom rungs of the ladder with you feet on his head pushing him down, not holding your hand while you lift him up. Men like Johnny Blaze who should be eating the scraps that you discard, not sharing a meal at your table.”
“Everyone deserves a fair go.”
“Not in this business, Son. And you got to realise that. The sooner, the better. Every time you step into the ring you have to imagine your opponent if either that guy with his dick in your ex wife's mouth or if your ex-wife with his dick in her mouth and they are denying you access to your kids. You have treat Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze like the pieces of shit that they are. You have to make people like Dean Wolf and Smith Jones know they can’t just throw your name around without repercussions.”
Cross steps forward to Eisenhower, “It’s not the way I am, Jerry.”
“The you are a bigger coward than I thought.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No. I’m not.”
Eisenhower doesn’t allow Cross time to respond as he turns walks out of the ring across the office when he sent Alex Brooks to wait. Tristan Cross stands there staring at Eisenhower with eyes of fire and clenched fists. He seems to have stopped breathing when he makes a decision to follow after Jerry. Cross jumps out of the ring and runs to catch Eisenhower.He shows him in the back, sending him crashing into the wall next to his office door. Cross turns Eisenhower around and wraps his hands around his throat.
“YOU. ARE. WRONG.” Cross tells Eisenhower with a ferociousness not normally seen coming from his voice.
Eisenhower struggles against the chokehold of his trainee.
“I will show you that I am more than what you say I am Old Man. I will show you that I have the killer instinct! If I have to start by taking Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze apart in that ring. I will show you. I will show them. I will show everyone. All it will take is one Revolutionizer and it will be all said and done, just like everyone before them and you will be be wrong, Jerry. You will be wrong.”
Eisenhower reaches out and starts bashing on the office door, his face seems to be turning blue from the power of Tristan Cross’ chokehold. This bashing brings Alex Brooks running out of the office who grabs the arms of Tristan Cross and pulls him away. Eisenhower slumps to the ground, leaning against the wall to catch his breath while Alex Brooks stands between Cross and Eisenhower. Tristan Cross raises his arms to indicate he is not a threat to Brooks, but he looks down at Eisenhower the anger still in his eyes and still in his voice.
“If you ever mention my family again Jerry, I will fucking end you.”
“Go home, Dude. Go home.” Brooks tells Cross as he starts pushing him away from Eisenhower.
“See you tomorrow, Son.”
“Fuck you, Jerry. Fuck you.”
Cross walks away while Alex Brooks tends to Eisenhower. The blood flows return to normality through his body as the anger that coursed like electricity through his body just mere moments earlier starts to subside and he regains his composure as he walks away, Tristan Cross knows he will be back tomorrow.
At this moment he is sitting on the dirty canvas, legs crossed and shirtless. He is fiddling with his glorious ginger beard. To another eye he would appear to be daydreaming, but the man is lost in thought. The thought of the past, the thought of the present and the thought of the future, all rolling into one indecipherable blur as he stares into the ceiling lights. He shaken from said thoughts by the unmistakable hoarseness of the voice of Jerry Eisenhower.
“Whaddya doin Son?” questions Eisenhower of Cross.
Jerry Eisenhower walks closer to the ring, he is accompanied by a friend, who looks very much like Justin Beiber before Beiber tried to grow facial hair and decided that cheap tattoos were a cool thing to do.
“Hey, Jerry. Welcome back.” Cross answers.
“Didn’t answer the question, Son.” retorts Eisenhower.
Cross shakes his head in disbelief. Despite having known this man for the last six months or so and walking hard to impress him in every aspect of training - he is still surprised the crotchety unreasonable attitude that Eisenhower always puts forth.
“Thinking, Jerry.” Cross answers the question. “Who’s that.”
Eisenhower and his associate stop as the reach the low apron of the ring in which Cross is sitting.
“This is Brooksy. Brooksy meet Cross. Cross meet Brooksy.” Eisenhower introduces with a certain degree of uncaring nonchalance.
“Hey.” says Brooksy with a wave.
Tristan Cross noos acceptance of Brooksy’s greeting.
“Say hello, don’t be rude, Son.” Eisenhower chastises Tristan.
“Hi.” says Cross.
“Hi” repeats Brooksy.
Brooksy is Alex Brooks. He was the original protege of Jerry Eisenhower and even though he is approaching thirty he stills keeps his boyish appearance.
“So, Son. Whaddya thinkin about?” pushes Eisenhower.
“Stuff.” Cross answers. He had no real clarity of his thoughts.
“Stuff? Stuff? What sort of answer is that. Are you twelve?” Eisenhower grills Cross as he sits himself on the ring apron. “Brooksy go into the office over there.” Eisenhower waves his hands in the general direction of his office door.
“Yeh. Stuff. I don’t know, Jerry. Just thinking, really. Maybe about staying on top of the game in the ring.”
Eisenhower snorts derisively. The sound makes Alex Brooks look back as he leaves the trainer and new trainee and enters the office. Cross looks at Eisenhower with a look of confusion. Eisenhower recognises this and talks.
“Top of your game, you say? You ain’t the top of anything, Cross. Nothing.”
“I just won the APW North American Title.”
“So. I just took a shit that took three flushes to get down.”
“You know that two titles in three months, right?
“Like I said I just took a shit. Son, you got nothing. Sorry to break it to you.”
“Jerry…” Cross tries to speak.
“No.” Eisenhower cuts him off. “You listen, It’s my turn to talk son. You’ve got nothing. Sure, you’re having a bit of success right now, Son. But, how long is it going to last, and when people work you out what are you going to do the, How are you going to adapt? Don’t answer that.”
Eisenhower takes a pause, and raises his finger to indicate he hasn’t finished talking and for Tristan Cross to remain quiet. “ You’re acting all proud of yourself because you’ve had a modicum of success early on. Please. Come to me in two years when if you are still dominating then you’ll have something.”
Eisenhower rolls under the bottom rope into his ring, and sits up facing Cross.
“I’ve watched you. You are the most impressive physical specimen in Alpha Pro right now,”
“Thanks.”
“Not a fucking compliment. But that will change, someone will come along and they will impose themselves on you. What are you going to do then?”
“Fight back.”
Eisenhower laughs.
“What with you bullshit I’m a warrior andI fight schtick. Please, it’s laughable. A man like you right now shouldn’t be standing in the ring calling for challengers. You should be walking around smashing people in the head and demanding they fight you. You’ve had Dean Wolf and Smith Jones use you as a pawn in your petty fuckin arguments over whether to you go hardcore or not. And what do you do?”
Eisenhower stands up and looks down upon Cross.
“You do nothing. That’s what. You get into a little fucking sing-a-long with the crowd. Pathetic, Son, fucking pathetic. What you should be doing is demanding they get into the ring with you and proving themselves against the greatest athlete in the building. Pity you’re so weak of fucking mind. Because, one day those athletic gifts of yours they are going to fade away. And then what do you have. A nice guy attitude and a nice guy losing streak. You’ll be like Jaice Wilds with a six pack and a ginger beard.”
Cross just stares at Eisenhower as he continues to talk down to him.
“I’m sixty three years old and I’ve been doing this shit for forty five years, Son. I’ve seen enough bright fucking stars light up the sky and explode quicker than Challenger. And I see your face all upset there, but if you don’t face these home truths you are going to be one of those dead bodies, Son. I know, you ain’t even been a lifer like me. Or even Brooksy. But you have to know that nice guys finish fucking last eventually because they lack the balls to take what they want let alone what they deserve.”
Eisenhower stops walks and stands right over the top of Spartan looking down on him from a position of dominance.
“Look at you! Right now, I have been speaking to you like you a piece of fucking shit and still you sit there and take it. You should be on your feet getting ready to fight, at the very least if not already have slammed on into my jaw to shut me the fuck up. With your weakness - how do you expect to ever do anything.”
Cross looks up at Eisenhower and he stares down at him, “”I’m not that, Jerry. And I don’t think I need to be like that.”
“Well you’re wrong. Look around, you crazy woman obsessed with conspiracies and meth heads wearing World Titles. Even look in your own backyard in Alpha Pro - the World Champion would cut anyone to pieces who tries to take his title and you think giving bro hugs to losers makes you cool. Newsflash, son. It don’t. It makes you another chump that is a good news story occasionally. Fodder to the real champions.”
Cross finally stands up, his muscled frame towers over Eisenhower.
“Jerry - you’re wrong.”
Eisenhower now looking up at Cross takes a couple of steps back and starts circling him.
“No I’m not. You are going to lose your jump you are going to get figured out and everyone is going to beat you like they beat Allen Anderson, because you are afraid to take what you want - fucking coward.”
“I ain’t no coward.” Cross says, the anger rising in his voice as he pivots to follow Eisenhower. “I’ll fight anyone.”
“You’re a fucking coward - you are afraid just to beat someone. You’ll fight the good fight and you’ll be honorable. TRISTAN - look at you! You are a beast, no one should touch you. But you need to find a mean streak. Don’t be like Brooksy and be so fucking nice that everyone takes advtantage of you.”
Eisenhower stops and punches Cross in the gut. Cross lets a loud ‘oomph’ sound go.
“See, doing nothing. Weak. Pathetic. Coward.”
Cross grabs Eisenhower on the shoulder and stops him walking he speaks through clenched teeth. “Not a coward and I will fight anyone. And I will not quit.”
Eisenhower knocks Cross’ hand off. “Not my point, Son. Ya not getting it. But whatever. Tell me, you’ve got Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze this week in a triangle match. What are you going to do?”
“Win.”
“How?”
“By taking them front on and winning.”
“You’re thinking too simple, Son. Men like Dave and Blaze - you shouldn’t even be thinking of it even being a fight, A man like you shouldn’t even be thinking about the, They are nothing to you, and that’s how you should be thinking. But, you won’t because you are a coward. You lack killer instinct. You rely on your physical tools and you’ve got nothing else.”
“They are opponents and competitors - they deserve respect.”
“NO! No, they don’t. That is where you are wrong, Son. Jobber Dave is second rate bum fighter who steals food so he can eat. He crawls around dumpsters lookin for the leftovers of the important parts of society. He is the shit on the bottom of my shoe. He doesn’t belong in the ring with you. He doesn’t even belong in the same building as you. And you have to treat him as such.”
“No I don’t. He’s an earnest fighter and always give his best.”
“Would you just listen to yourself, here, Son. I don’t give if Dave always gives his best. His best is shit compared to you. But, again, men like Dave will beat you and embarrass you because you won’t go for the jugular. But, if you’re not going to listen to me, Son. What am I to do. Keep you honorable warrior shit going but don’t come crying to me like a baby looking for its mama's tit when you staring at lights.”
“I will prove you this week, Jerry, you’ll see.”
Eisenhower puts his hands to his face.
“Are you listening?”
“I’ve heard every word, Jerry,” says Cross his face beetroot red.
“Exactly, you fucking heard. You haven’t listened. It’s not about this week, it’s not about next. But there will come a time when you have nothing left and you will lose because you will only go so far as the honorable warrior and then you are going to get found out, but now I am fucking repeating myself because you either stupid or blind to the facts. In fact, you are a bit like Johnny Blaze - just fucking lost.”
“Blaze isn’t lost.”
“Yes, he is, Son. He fights in the memory of a father who didn’t want to know him. Like you he refuses the facts that are in the mirror. He’s another one you shouldn’t barely be acknowledging but instead you give respect and bring them up to your level when they don’t deserve to be there, Son.”
“Another reason you are a loser.”
Cross sees red. His face burns bright and he grabs Eisenhower by both shoulders and lifts him to his eyeline, holding his face close to his own. “I AM NOT A LOSER, JERRY!”
Eisenhower smiles. “There it is.”
“WHAT!?”
“The fire, Son. the desire to find the next level.”
Cross drops Eisenhower to the mat. Cross looks down at Jerry “You did this to make me angry?”
Eisenhower looks up at Cross, half sitting, half on his side looks up at Cross, “No, Son. I need you to find the killer instinct because I watch everything you do, Son. You give far too much credit to the men and women you face. Men like Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze who lack the talent, the heart and anything else you can think of, to even belong in the ring with you, Son.”
Eisenhower pushes himself to his feet. “Men like Jobber Dave who make a living being other people punching bags. Men like him belong on the bottom rungs of the ladder with you feet on his head pushing him down, not holding your hand while you lift him up. Men like Johnny Blaze who should be eating the scraps that you discard, not sharing a meal at your table.”
“Everyone deserves a fair go.”
“Not in this business, Son. And you got to realise that. The sooner, the better. Every time you step into the ring you have to imagine your opponent if either that guy with his dick in your ex wife's mouth or if your ex-wife with his dick in her mouth and they are denying you access to your kids. You have treat Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze like the pieces of shit that they are. You have to make people like Dean Wolf and Smith Jones know they can’t just throw your name around without repercussions.”
Cross steps forward to Eisenhower, “It’s not the way I am, Jerry.”
“The you are a bigger coward than I thought.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No. I’m not.”
Eisenhower doesn’t allow Cross time to respond as he turns walks out of the ring across the office when he sent Alex Brooks to wait. Tristan Cross stands there staring at Eisenhower with eyes of fire and clenched fists. He seems to have stopped breathing when he makes a decision to follow after Jerry. Cross jumps out of the ring and runs to catch Eisenhower.He shows him in the back, sending him crashing into the wall next to his office door. Cross turns Eisenhower around and wraps his hands around his throat.
“YOU. ARE. WRONG.” Cross tells Eisenhower with a ferociousness not normally seen coming from his voice.
Eisenhower struggles against the chokehold of his trainee.
“I will show you that I am more than what you say I am Old Man. I will show you that I have the killer instinct! If I have to start by taking Jobber Dave and Johnny Blaze apart in that ring. I will show you. I will show them. I will show everyone. All it will take is one Revolutionizer and it will be all said and done, just like everyone before them and you will be be wrong, Jerry. You will be wrong.”
Eisenhower reaches out and starts bashing on the office door, his face seems to be turning blue from the power of Tristan Cross’ chokehold. This bashing brings Alex Brooks running out of the office who grabs the arms of Tristan Cross and pulls him away. Eisenhower slumps to the ground, leaning against the wall to catch his breath while Alex Brooks stands between Cross and Eisenhower. Tristan Cross raises his arms to indicate he is not a threat to Brooks, but he looks down at Eisenhower the anger still in his eyes and still in his voice.
“If you ever mention my family again Jerry, I will fucking end you.”
“Go home, Dude. Go home.” Brooks tells Cross as he starts pushing him away from Eisenhower.
“See you tomorrow, Son.”
“Fuck you, Jerry. Fuck you.”
Cross walks away while Alex Brooks tends to Eisenhower. The blood flows return to normality through his body as the anger that coursed like electricity through his body just mere moments earlier starts to subside and he regains his composure as he walks away, Tristan Cross knows he will be back tomorrow.
