Part 1 - Hearing Voices
Mark Cross can be seen sitting at a computer screen, booking himself some flights online. An arm draped loosely across his shoulders from behind, sending with it a cascade of blonde hair that fell randomly around him.
Amanda: What's in Russia?
The Dragon: Just this show Octane and Andy got me wrestling on. We'll be there and back in a couple of days.
His hand came off the mouse to meet the arm that was embracing him, brushing it lightly.
Amanda: Aww, I was just getting used to having you home every day!
The Dragon: Same! Don't worry I won't make a habit of it...Hey not so tight…
Mark’s eyes closed for a moment or two as he felt the arm squeezing around his neck. When they reopened, his computer and desk were long gone, and had been replaced by a dimly lit, dingy room that looked more akin to a padded cell. The chair below him had been replaced by cold, hard concrete. He struggled to no avail as a male arm took the place of his wife’s much more dainty version, which was much stronger than hers. Amanda’s soft Midwestern accent faded away into the distance, replaced by the maniacal cackling of what sounded like a madman, in this case one that had been left more than a little worse for wear as he was exploited in the name of entertainment.
The Dragon: AAAAAAAAAAH!
The Underground champion sat bolt upright from his bed, a cold sweat running down from his brow as a sweet dream turned to a beautiful nightmare real quick. He made a grab for his phone.
[She poured coffee over your head literally yesterday you idiot, don’t wake her up at 4am]
The Dragon: Oh yeah…
[Remember how these nightmares were way less frequent before Russia got brought up again?]
The Dragon: Yuuuuuup. Octane you motherf-
The scene fades to black.
Part 2 - Memory Lane
The bandstand, really? Canterbury was full of iconic landmarks, the city wall, it's cobbled high streets, quirky shops and unique Roman architecture. The new Marlowe Theatre, a perfect place for a show, infamously more than £1m over budget before they finally realised they’d forgotten to put a ticket office on the plans, and of course, the majestic Canterbury Cathedral. It was a surprise when Evie suggested the thing he used to kick footballs against, which he had described it to her as too, was the place they’d deliver their message to the Sin City Wrestling fans. He just didn’t see it. Maybe it was her attempt to bring back some nostalgia for him, who knows. That was pretty thoughtful by her standards if it was.
The Dane John Gardens was walking distance from where our school was, and so it happened to be the best place in the City for a kickabout, especially in the summer. So much is taken for granted in our everyday lives, especially in the people and the places we see so regularly, and for us that bandstand was just the place where a bag and a blazer made a goal, and as long as you hadn’t left your shooting boots at home, would save you having to run a mile to retrieve it. As he thought about it some more, maybe the Aussie had seen some hidden beauty in it, who knows, but it had become their location of choice.
This meant they were speaking of course, and that was something, a coffee or two and a rough plan involving a camera crew, a bandstand, and not much else. His laid-back and casual demeanor still posed as an obstacle between them, and Mark had done his best to tone it down, but he was human, and a creature of habit, and male, and therefore not able to achieve sheer perfection, but he was trying. He thought maybe Evie was starting to recognise that too, and cutting him at least the slightest bit of slack, but he couldn’t tell. Would this small sign of progress blossom into a friendship? The jury was out - Mark wasn’t holding out much hope. The negotiations were fragile, an this definitely wasn’t the time to bring up the Fire Dragons 2.0 t-shirts, that was for damn sure.
As the pair headed up the path towards the bandstand, a football can be seen moving along with them at Mark’s feet. Not an American one, where he made his fortune, not an Aussie rules one, which seemed barbaric even by wrestling standards, but an English one. The original. The best. A long black wool overcoat swung around by his knees as he dribbled the ball along. Evie, not wanting any part in the ball games, made a bee-line for the bandstand, where she could see the camera crew getting ready to receive them. Mark on the other hand, feeling he was finally in range, knocked the ball forward onto the grass, took a short run-up, and rifled a shot in the direction of the structure.
The Dragon: Ooooooh he’s still got it!
Mark watched in delight as his free kick smacked satisfyingly against one of the metal uprights of the bandstand, once again taking a trip down memory lane for the hometown hero as it once again became target practice for smashing footballs against. The euphoria is short-lived as he followed the trajectory.
The Dragon: Nonononono…
The ball had shot from his right leg like it’d been fired out of a cannon, and even bouncing on the wet ground it was moving well. We see Mark set off towards it at a sprint, the camera revealing that the ball is heading in the direction of a running water fountain that the path through the park ran around. The ball was back to bouncing on the path now, and although Mark got close, he was only able to give himself a front row seat to witness the ball splash into the water.
He’d been here before. He’d also been IN here before. It was difficult to know what technique was best, either to stand on the edge and hook it out with your foot, or get on all fours and try to grab it. One of his friends had given Mark a helpful shove once, sending him straight into the drink. They were going to be out here a while, and it was getting cold. Getting drenched wasn’t an option, he was going to call for backup.
The Dragon: HEY SCOTT! I need to get ready - Mind grabbing my ball for me?
Scott: Sure thing Mr. Cross!
The pair cross on the way to and from the bandstand respectively, exchanging a friendly handshake on the way. Watching over his shoulder for any potential comedy moments, he sees Scott immediately adopt the on-all-fours technique, deftly scooping the ball out of the fountain without putting himself in there with it. Equal parts impressive and disappointing, he thought. While the final preparations were made, Mark chatted idly away to Scott and the cameraman, holding his dripping football gingerly out in front of him.
Cameraman: Two minutes guys, then we’ll be ready.
[[If you haven’t already, this is probably a good time to go and read Evie’s account of the evening. Trust me, it’ll be worth it!]]
Evie: Are you getting to step up and say something? Or am I going to have to carry this fucking team again?
The Dragon: Alright alright…
Mark pushed himself up from the railing he’d been resting on, sliding his coat from his shoulders as he took position centre stage. He threw the garment roughly in Evie’s direction, where it rested with a thud on the handrail. He cheered internally as it stuck, not falling limply over the edge to the muddy ground below. His partner, impressively, didn’t even flinch at the impact next to her, but less impressively, didn’t seem to share in his excitement.
The Dragon: Well that...was pretty sweary, thanks to Evie for getting this video demonetised everybody, I’ll try and tone it down, but no promises. Now you know what I miss more than being able to say what the FUCK we want online? The good old days. Remember those? I sure do. Before social media became king, you didn’t have 24/7 access to your favourite wrestlers, oh no. The time to see them was usually every morning you woke up, when you hung their poster up on your wall and once a week, on TV, as they stood in the centre of the ring and delivered a speech of epic proportions. You hung on their every word of course, and they’d turn every dial up to eleven because they knew it was the only chance they were going to get before the next show. That was where it was at. Our two opponents? That is probably the wrestling they grew up watching, getting home after school, excited about the prospect of cheering for their heroes...well let me bring back some of those memories for you Jack and Tally, I'm here to inspire you, so you can just sit back, idle and admire for a few minutes.
Mark hitched up the sleeves of his navy sweater, beginning to pace around as he addressed the camera.
The Dragon: Now I don’t know what it feels like to come through the ranks of a prestigious wrestling school like you guys did. Getting things handed to me on a plate has never really been my forte, I mean what do you learn from that, really? Take a prize-fighting boxer. They get put in against chumps first off, guys who will never, in a million years have the same level of talent. It’s a chance to get a taste of the sights and sounds of a fight night, get some rounds under their belt, little confidence boosters. A few more of these, racking up comprehensive victories, so then send in the grizzled veterans, masters of the ring, know all the tricks of the trade. It’s the same story of course, they haven’t got the speed, the power, or the stamina to *really* trouble this new superstar with their advancing years, but they’ll be awkward, unorthodox, drag the contest out longer and as it starts to get boring watching worthless opponents get destroyed, where are we now? Oh...two years into their professional career and they haven’t even seen the slightest THREAT of someone that could drop their entitled ass on the canvas. They get looked after. They get babied. They will beat anyone and everyone in the world eventually, just...don’t rush the kid alright? He’s got a lot of growing up to do. Not in wrestling. Not after Jack and Tallyn get thrown to the wolves for match number two of theirs.
The back of his hand smacks into his other palm.
The Dragon: Less than one month into their professional wrestling careers here in this company and they find themselves up against a current singles champion, not some flash-in-the-pan-can’t-defend-a-belt-to-save-his-marriage-paper-champion like Teddy whatever the hell he’s calling himself these days, but a real one, who defends his title with honour, who flies all the way to Romania to demolish a bunch of SCU rejects that call themselves GRIME, and still makes it back in time to finish off Jack Russow last week. He’s a hot prospect, old Russow, starting to make a name for myself, undefeated, until he comes up against me. I send him scurrying away, putting him back in his place. One day he’ll be great, sure, but let’s not forget that I’m great now.
Mark gives that a moment to sink in, looking out across the near deserted park as the light begins to fade.
The Dragon: Jack Washington...now there goes someone with some swagger and gusto huh? I became a champion in my first match and they had to change the game to get rid of me. They couldn’t contain you, so they closed their doors, is that what it is? How about you couldn’t SUSTAIN them huh? This is the wrestling BUSINESS first and foremost. I hate that it’s like that, I really do, but more money has to come in than there is going out. As a champion you have to represent the brand, peddle the merch, put people on seats. You seem to think that the whole charade was below you and maybe, in part, you’re right, but I can’t help but wonder if you neglected your duty to them. Blast from the Past is a team competition Jack, are you maybe the type to let people down?
He steps closer to the camera, lowering his voice to compensate.
The Dragon: Your man was right to tell you that signing with Sin City was a solid bed. Wrestling federations that stand the test of time have a few things in common. Sensible money management. Great leadership. A product the audience wants to see and talented guys in the locker room to back it up. Professional, hard-working, capable guys that know how to pack out an arena, and blow the roof off it by the end. To get in a company like this, that’s the baseline, the absolute bare minimum to even get a contract. What percentage of the losers you faced when you had that title would we even allow to build the ring here, let alone compete in it? This is not me telling you that you don't belong here by the way. Remember number two, great leadership, I'm sure they made the right choice with you...but just where do you fall in the pecking order? That’s the big question.
Mark clears his throat, stepping back from the camera once again.
The Dragon: As an outsider looking in you probably wonder why some Development territory guy like me is killing it on the main show, maybe if I can do it you can come in and clean house, and you’ve got something kid, you’ve shown that...but that doesn’t set you apart one iota from the next guy in that locker room. I succeed on the main show because I'm better than a lot of the guys on the main show. It’s not for my comedy act, nobody finds me funny, it’s not for my good looks...wait...OK it might be IN PART because of that, but I’m in that position on merit first and foremost. I'm beating guys multiple times, night in and night out, who are fighting hard to get within touching distance of my level and they’re FAILING Jack. Good guys, former champions, you name it, watching one, two, three smacks on the mat, followed by my hand raised in victory.
He takes a moment to breathe, stretching out his back.
The Dragon: Like so many who have faced me before, you’ll find that I’m on a different astral plane to you, Jack, and from where I sit right now, you don’t have anything you can touch me. Be brash, cocky, I’ll know you’ve underprepared and underestimated. Advantage me. Be coy, humble, respectful, I know that mentally you’re already admitted you’re out of your depth. Advantage me. Come out and say you have what it takes to go toe-to-toe with me, I say prove it, the ball is back in your court, oh, and then it’s all about wrestling. Think we can call that advantage me too. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, I have more in the locker, I have more big matches under my belt than you’ve had in total training sessions and while I know you’ve come through a great system, they can’t keep you in the gym long enough to prepare for all the weapons I have to throw at you. Eventually they have to throw you in at the deep end and let you find this out for yourself...
Amanda: Octane told me all about what he and Andy had to do in Russia by the way...what you did…
The Dragon: I didn’t do anyt-
Amanda: Other than lie to me.
The Dragon: When did I-
Amanda: I remember the exact words when I asked you how it went, tough match, good pay day.
The Dragon: Both true?
Amanda: Just decided to miss out the part where you found someone that so obviously needed help, all of those patients did, and you left them there to DIE.
Mark’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as the last word reverberated around inside his skull, bouncing off every available part of his brain. He took in a big gulp of air as he shook his head from side-to-side, as if to shake cobwebs away. Determined not to come across rattled in front of the camera, he pressed on.
The Dragon: So then we throw things over to his partner - Now in the words of the almighty Wyclef Jean, just cause she dances go-go, it don’t make her a hoe, no. He’s right. He’s absolutely right and let me get this out of the way early. I’m not going to throw someone under the bus for a career path they chose to help their family out.. Plus, too easy - that’d be like shooting fish in a barrel, like I said...not the handed to me on a plate kinda guy...but if I call up my Mama because I’m in love with a stripper, yo, it’s gonna be a cute redhead. When it comes to what Tallyn’s trying to sell...well I just ain’t buying one bit of it.
Mark reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He holds the back up to the camera, revealing a metallic purple case back with Prince’s symbol emblazoned on it in bright white.
The Dragon: Now it's absolutely fine to have people you look up to, we all have our idols, but there's paying homage, and then there’s writing Jurassic World by taking a Jurassic Park script and a piece of tracing paper level shit going on. The same superior attitude, no doubt developed at a young age so they could stroke their own ego, all because their parents didn’t cuddle them enough Commendable, but predictable. Same hair, same mannerisms, well HEY MIKAH, LOOKS LIKE YOU’VE GOTTEN YOUNGER, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT ANTI-AGING PRODUCT YOU’VE BEEN USING BECAUSE I WANT TO BUY A WHOLE BARREL!
Mark turned, smashing the football that had been retrieved for him with a vicious right foot that sends it sailing off the handrail and off into the distance.
The Dragon: It’s going in the fountain again isn’t it...Ah dammit...Evie, would you mind? No? Scott - Little help?
Scott: Uh yeah, sure thing Mr. Cross!
Mark’s attention returns back to the camera.
The Dragon: I almost struggle to tell the two of you apart these days I’ve gotta admit. You’ve even come to the same company where your inspiration managed to garner so much success, but Tally there’s one thing you have that Mikah doesn’t, that sets you apart - A self-confidence shortage. Second ever professional match huh, must be pretty nerve-racking. I mean Jack Washington, from what you know, he’s got some skills...but how much do you two really know about each other? He’s good and I admit that, but is he THIS good, is he me good? The turn up at a Supershow, defend my Underground title, then come up and wail on some main roster guys too because one win per night isn’t enough to keep me satisfied kind of level? If you believe that 100% then you’re lying, you’re deluded, or just plain ignorant. It might be true, but how can you know? Sucks to be you right, you’re already under sooooo much pressure since you’re so new to this, still finding out how hot studio lights can get, learning the hard way as you suffer through the blisters from that new pair of ring boots that you forgot to break in as they cut your feet to shreds...and you realise that maybe, just maybe, your partner is already in trouble, and you might have to pick up some slack out there too.
Mark indicates behind.
The Dragon: Against Evie Luna Jordan, no less. You may not have wanted this moment to come just yet but it’s here nonetheless. To get to the very top in this business you have to beat the best, and there is nobody in Blast from the Past history better than my partner out there. That's an indisputable fact unfortunately. You suspect I have your partner outgunned. You suspect you’re outgunned too. That must be a terrible realisation to come to, but let me give you the good news - You’re right. This isn’t your year, it’s too soon, you still have much to learn...but within a few days, it’ll all be over. You have a bright future, and we’ll be sure to put on a masterclass so you can watch it back and pick up a few tips...
Amanda: Here’s the thing with you Mark - You always had a selfish streak. I loved you regardless and I was almost never on the receiving end of any coldness from you, but sometimes you can be so blind to what’s going on around you.
The Dragon: Is that why you left?
Amanda: I left because I was tired of waiting for the next phase of “us” to begin. First it was football then it was wrestling, it’s like we were in a holding pattern until you finally decided to give it all up.
The Dragon: You could have said something…
Amanda: Tell you to quit? No I couldn’t, you’d have been straight on the phone asking to terminate your contract, the second I asked.
The Dragon: Exactly my point...
Amanda: And been miserable for it. You’d have gone stir crazy in weeks. I couldn’t do that to you, and I couldn’t stick around any longer so I left, and I started the next phase on my own.
The Dragon: You couldn’t tell me what you needed...so you break my heart, disappear, end up halfway across the country and still don’t get what you need? Now that’s what I call a communication breakawfph…
His speech becomes muffled by a torrent of coffee being launched into his face from Amanda’s mug, snapping him straight back to reality.
The Dragon: You can hang lamely to whatever notion you like about her heart not being in it but I understand my partner a little better than you all think I do and here’s the thing - Evie...she thought she had everything before Blast from the Past came back into her life, she was 100% completely happy, and I get the desire to keep it that way, don’t change a winning formula, makes sense. See, I did have everything I ever wanted too. I had the perfect house, the car I’d dreamt of so many times, the chance to make a career out of something I loved, the perfect student in Faith, and the love of my life waiting for me when I came home at the end of a long day. That’s all gone, I’ve lost everything...everything but the wrestling really. The car, the house, the financial security, none of that has gone anywhere but trust me - When your heart is shattered into a million tiny pieces, no amount of money puts that back together again. If we’d met at Tallyn’s old club? Maybe a different story, but I didn’t marry a materialistic girl.
Mark’s eyes rise up from the ground where they’d dropped solemnly for a moment, coming back up to meet the camera.
The Dragon: Now this may have taken a turn but don’t...don’t pity me, not for one second. I may have tumbled off of Cloud 9 but I’m still riding high. I’m telling you this as a warning, because this is a dangerous time to stand against me. I’ve had a lot of things on my side for years, a technical ability that is the stuff of legend in modern day wrestling. Over a decade of experience, a level of self-confidence built off the back of victory after victory...but one thing held me back. Could I have given it all up? Flash back twelve months ago absolutely yes. It’s a medical miracle, my wife can have children after all, in three months a legend, my son will be born...and I’d have been done. I’d have stopped caring about Shining Wizards and put all my energy into bringing up my shining star...but that dream is over. Guys that could give it all up in a heartbeat aren’t World champion material, and so with my divorce, as one door closes, another door opens. Take wrestling away from me now and it’s like sucking the life blood from my veins. My reason for getting up in the morning would be erased, and since my biological clock is so hard-wired for 6:30am I WANT a good reason to be up at that hour. So Jack and Tally, I will be up at 6:30am every morning, preparing for you. I will think about nothing else other than how I can leave you both thinking what your next move is going to be, and whether you are actually cut out for this level of competition or not. People will tell you that you are, try and build you back up again, and a year or two down the line we’ll look back at this moment and how it showed you how steep the learning curve really is. Try and get in our way if you want. Hey, even try and make it an interesting match if you’re really feeling daring, but you are nothing more than two stepping stones on our way to a level more fitting of where we deserve to be. Watch carefully - We’ll show you how to do it for next year.
Part 3 - Melting the Ice Caps
Amanda: Well this is the worst hotel I've ever stayed in.
The Dragon: Yuuuuup. Wouldn't have had to deal with this with the Raiders huh?
Amanda: We miss you Raider nation!
We are taken to one of the worst hotels you could possibly ever stay in. We’re not treated to a full tour of the room, but the drab red bed linen, combined with a headboard that had several large chunks out of it at least gave the hint. Mark Cross is laying back on the bed, lightly running his fingers through the blonde locks of his companion, who had curled up with him, her head resting on her chest.
The Dragon: Manda?
Amanda: Yeah?
The Dragon: Don't ever leave me please.
Amanda: Awwww you little cutie! I'm not gonna leave, marriage is forever silly!
The Dragon: Haaaaaa! There's no escape!
Amanda: Nuh-uh. Say do you still remember when I came to watch you play Denver that one time?
The Dragon: Not again.
Amanda: You'd scored three rushing TDs but instead of partying with the guys all you wanted to do was come back to the hotel and lay here like this.
The Dragon: Stop…
Amanda: And then you started crying because of how much you loved me and how happy you were?
The Dragon: Dammit, you always ruin my tough guy image!!
Amanda: Ha. Tough guy.
Amanda punched him in the arm playfully. Upon impact Mark found himself springing awake. He wasn't in a horrible hotel, but in his Canterbury apartment. He was no longer stroking the hair of his professional dancer turned teacher ex-wife, but the stuffed polar bear that had been one of her Valentine's day presents one year, and had taken permanent residence at their...his...home base in the UK.
He picked up the soft toy in one hand, making moves to launch it across the room, but he stopped himself mid-motion, instead sitting it next to him, lightly stroking the fake fur.
The Dragon: Well it looks like it's just you and me huh Percy?
The bear's upbeat, open-mouthed perma-smile shone like a beacon as Poseidon, Percy for short, looked completely unburdened by life's struggles, and if anything was pleased to have the company. He'd be equally happy when Mark rolled on to the next leg of the tour, and that thought left the Underground champion wondering what life would be like if more people in it were like Percy.
The Dragon: Well I'm not feeling lonely, I know that much for sure, but it's definitely been a while since I've been this alone. It’s a good job I enjoy having my own company, my own time, and my own space, isn’t it? I guess the most important thing at a time like this is to keep myself busy, create distractions for myself. You know something that’d work great for that? Embarking on a run as World Champion I reckon. It’s my turn to lead from the front on the main brand as well as represent the Underground. It’s going to be one tough run, but I’m always game for pushing myself. Challenge accepted.
The scene fades to black.
