14th October 2018
Louisville, Kentucky
The clattering of metal did a surprisingly good job of drowning out my cry of anguish as the top-rope elbow drop made short work of mangling my right arm, the very same arm that had been sandwiched between the two parts of the ring steps as I was held in place. Number one contendership battle royales or not, putting stablemates in the same ring always spelled trouble, and when it came to targeting one of the biggest threats, it didn’t take much for them to pull in a third accomplice into their scheme.
The medical staff, to their credit, knew right then and there that I was done, their immediate presence on the scene saving me from any further punishment. I walked out under my own power of course, both of my legs were working, and at that moment I was almost relieved. I was working a lighter schedule, I had other things on my mind, being put out of action wasn’t on the agenda. It soon passed, the relief I mean. The Doctor met me just behind the curtain, knowing I’d want to carry on if I could. As he began his diagnosis, I took calm, deep breaths, finding my centre…
Did I fuck. The rage was building with every passing second, as it all clicked into place. Not only did they want to take me out of the match, they wanted to take me out of the game for months while I recovered. Why? Because I was a threat. It wasn’t malicious, I hadn’t stolen anyone’s girlfriend, or run over anyone’s cat, or even really said much bad about any of my opponents in the build-up. Had I done any of those things? Well hey maybe I deserved that broken arm, it’s like a receipt, we give them all the time, but they were scared of me. A brutal act of violence sure, stemming from a feeling of pure cowardice.
Doctor: Well, it’s not broken, although that arm is gonna be dead for half an hour or so.
The Doc had been squeezing and poking it for the last couple of minutes, I figured if anything was broken, I’d have been screaming like a little girl on contact. I could look forward to some gnarly bruising though, and another conversation with my (now ex) wife about whether I should still be doing this. Payback would be swift and unrelenting.
The Dragon: I’m going back in then.
Doctor: Dragon you'll be fighting with one hand I've gotta pul-
The Dragon: Nope.
Doctor: Hey!
With one solid shove with my good arm, the Doc was sent staggering backwards and out of my way as I burst back through the curtain to cheers from the crowd. I was relatively new here, still trying to win some of the fans over, but a man out for revenge usually made for spicy viewing.
Talbot: Is that Cross coming back out to ringside?
If it was any consolation, I'm left-handed, so if I was going to try anything too wrestling-related out there, at least my dominant arm was still working. The first to see me coming was the poor kid that’d been roped into holding my arm a couple of minutes before, and to his credit, he did come running to try and shut me down. Straight into a big left hand.
Bates: And Cross now lining up the SUPERKICK, sending Anderson flying over the barrier and into the fans!
Talbot: It doesn’t look like he’s moving down there either, he could be out!
I was an advocate of Japanese Strong Style and predominantly, the approach involved powerful, technical suplexes and throws that could change the course of an encounter in one swift move. Given my condition, that was pretty much out of the question. Luckily, there was another prominent feature of Strong Style. Kicking people in the face. Hard.
The two stablemates responsible for the arm now dangling limply by my side were facing mixed fortunes. One was taking a beating inside the ring by the company’s former World champion, on his comeback trail from injury, the other doing the damage on the outside. The recipient of the abuse floor side finally managed to wriggle free, heading for the safety of the ramp, and right into my path. My one good arm was all I needed to hold him in place for a crushing knee to the face.
Bates: Cross just CLEANED HIS CLOCK with that knee!
Talbot: Brutal stuff from the Dragon, and now he comes face-to-face with one of the 99Damage boys, both of squaring up now.
I didn’t pay any attention to what he said, I was too stuck in my own thoughts of revenge, anger, frustration all at once. Pain probably would have snapped me out of it, but I had none. I was blissfully unaware of how much was coming when the feeling started coming back into my arm, but that wouldn’t be until my job was already done. My own reflexes surprised me though as he swung.
Bates: Cross just plucked that punch outta mid air!
I needed to work quickly, having little means to defend myself from another punch or kick. I dug my heels in, pulling back like I was in a tug o’ war, angling myself around the corner of the ring. Before he was able to react, my opponent found himself off-balance, brought onto his toes and as his speed picked up, he came face-to-face with the ring post. Three down.
Bates: Namen Hammer looks about ready to launch his man all the way to Cincinnati!
The big Bulgarian had been the company’s top star, until a broken ankle halted his reign as World champion, and was now on the comeback trail. At 6’7” he was rangey and powerful, but he lacked a lot of technical ability. Around these parts, he had the number on most, making him the favourite to become number one contender and win back his title. I could have made him look ordinary of course, having worked at higher levels where good technical grounding was almost a must, but I was on a part-time schedule, my full attention on the development of Fa...Royal Purple...and had little interest in a title run. Of course, most everyone involved in the business knew that too.
Talbot: He’s cleared the ring with that Gorilla Press.
Bates: But here comes Cross!
A heavy boot to the back of his knee sent the big man tumbling, a cheap-shot from behind, but I was running on limited options. Hammer dropped to one knee, his scream of victory quickly turning to a cry of pain as I wasted no time, hitting the ropes in front of him, leaping up into a…
Bates: SHINING WIZARD! Dragon’s laid him out!
Talbot: Going for the cover! One, two, THREE! CROSS WINS!
Announcer: Here is your winner, and number one contender for the World Heavyweight Championship, Mark...The Dragonnnnn....Cross!
Sometimes in this business, all you need is the right motivation. Why is it that wrestlers who go on to become champions, usually become multi-time champions? Why are Twitter biographies too small to contain all their achievements? Capability. It takes a special kind of person to win a tournament like Blast from the Past, to bring it week in, week out, at the highest level. It takes a different sort to defend a title for three months or more. It requires a certain calibre of competitor to step in against five other guys and gals with your arm held up in the air at the end. Someone like...me.
We never lose it. Even in this tournament, look at Evie last year, Despy this year, it doesn’t matter how long you’re away, clutching up when we need it most is what we do.
I didn’t want a World title shot. I didn’t want a World title run. I had other priorities back then, I was a “bigger name” in a developing company, there to mentor some of the younger guys, sell tickets, and keep my ring sharpness up for as-and-when I needed it...like jumping in with my protege if she needed a tag partner, that kind of thing. I made a conscious choice to throttle back for a while...and that’s totally allowed.
It’s okay to take a breather. Going full-throttle every week for years on end takes a toll on your body, your mind, and your spirit. It’s what burns you out. If you had the skills before, it’s there. If you honed your craft, your muscles will remember what to do. Just gotta push the right buttons. Deliberately going out of their way to hurt me? Those fans got to see a side to me that *they* hadn’t seen before, even if thousands of wrestling fans had in the past. Tournaments like Blast from the Past? They’re taken down by people who can quite literally win matches with one arm tied behind their back. People with character. People with class.
Time to prove I belong one more time.
28th February 2021
New York City, New York
The scene opens to a small conference room, virtually all of the space taken up by a wooden desk planted in the centre. Mark “The Dragon” Cross sits on one side, dressed in shorts and jeans, opposite two representatives in suits and open collars, no ties. Sitting in front of Cross is a small stack of papers, a contract.
The Dragon: Yeah I’m going to end up spending time in New York more regularly, it makes sense to work more matches here. Flying to Vegas and back every week gets kinda draining after a while.
Rep 1: Well it’ll be great to have some more experience on the ros-
A phone ringtone echoes around the room. Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer.”
The Dragon: Sorry guys, let me just get rid of them.
He slips the Samsung Galaxy out of his pocket and slides to accept the call.
The Dragon: Hey Chris, listen I’m gonna have to be quick...uh huh...no I’m not busy…yup...
As the conversation continues, the two suited representatives look at each other, their faces an equal blend of surprise and frustration at the audacity of the Brit in front of them..
The Dragon: Put me in coach! I’ll see you at the show on Sunday.
He hangs up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket.
The Dragon: Sorry guys, something’s come up. I’m going to have to sign this in a couple of weeks.
Mark picks up the contract, ripping it down the middle in one swift movement, before flinging it on the table.
Rep 2: You could have just...signed it and started with us in a couple of weeks...
The Dragon: Ah...fuck. Has anyone got any tape...or anything…
Rep 1: Uhh...
The Dragon: ...some staples or?
Rep 2: We’ll print another one, look, when you’re ready to work, call us okay?
The Dragon: Sorry for wasting your time guys, I will, for sure.
Rep 1: Well, to be honest you were the one that flew into NYC for this. We were already here.
The Dragon: Good point.
Rep 2: Have a nice flight!
As Mark reaches out to shake hands with the two representatives in turn, the scene fades to black.
Monday 1st March 2021
Saxon Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada
The scene opens to Mark “The Dragon” Cross, perched on the edge of his bed at the Saxon Hotel. He would have stayed anywhere else if he could (no offense Brooke!) but after being cooped up there in quarantine for a time, it reminded him of the claustrophobia...or cabin fever, he guessed they were much the same. Still, his arrival was short notice, and at that point he’d take whatever he could get.
The Lord works in mysterious ways. One minute you're in NYC, putting pen to paper on the deal that'd allow me to travel with my partner and keep working at the same, the next you’re tearing up that contract in front of their very eyes and getting another shot at glory. It’s been a voyage of discovery for me, seeing the choices I was making, the way they made me feel. I began to understand how my priorities were starting to shift, and finally, where it all went wrong.
You know, up until now? I never really understood why my marriage fell apart. I mean, it was the perfect arrangement right, we both had our own careers, we both travelled a lot, neither one of us ever really left at home with the fear of missing out. We had our own separate lives, we understood how important work was to us both, and it was great, it never caused an argument, and we cherished the moments we were able to spend together, always making it a special time, like an occasion.
Yet, there I was, I'm sitting in an office, about to ink the deal. My new partner kept her New York apartment, so she could see friends, and family. My next career move meant shows near to my partner's apartment, so when she travelled back, I could tag along. That was the difference, so subtle, but so pivotal. I was making a career fit around our lives, not making our lives work around our careers like I did in our marriage. They were still priority one and priority two, but their places switched.
We were happy, to the point where we let ourselves drift apart slowly over a decade or more until suddenly, Amanda didn’t need our relationship anymore. It was like she didn’t care if I was in it or not, and of course I was completely oblivious. I’m sure none of you want to hear about my relationship issues though, so let’s get on topic for a while.
Wrestling is all about motivation, of some sort. Nobody wants to live out of a suitcase, or sleep in a car, or be away from loved ones for weeks, months on end, train every day until your muscles burn and get thrown around like a ragdoll every night you compete. NOBODY wants to put themselves in a situation where they’ll get hurt. Not without a payoff. Even those that seem to crave pain...it’s usually only because it’s an escape. The pain helps take them away from something in their mind is far, far worse. We all work for something. Fame, fortune, to be successful, all three. Or maybe, to defend your crown.
Let’s address the elephant in the room right now. The Dragon and the Wolfe lost, bounced out in round one, and yet here I am, back with a second bite of the cherry. It’s true, I’ve never been pinned in five Blast from the Past matches, and it’s super tempting to hold on to that fact for dear life. I’m sure that’s exactly what my opponents are expecting of me too...so no, not today. There’s a theme to this week, admitting I was wrong, and I made a mistake.
One person can’t put a whole team on their back and carry Blast from the Past. That’s a statement I’ve agreed with in the past. In fact, the words have probably come out of my own mouth on occasion too. I don’t disagree, but yet…
Climax Control #262
York, England
Simone: It looks like Travis is looking to end it.
Evie smirks and starts to walk up the ramp, but Cross wiggles out, he spins Travis around, kicks him in the gut. He hooks up both Travis arms before dropping him with the Tiger Driver 91!
Simone: Ketteiteki Desaki
Adams: Erm.... That move he does!
Cross hooks the leg and Jasmine drops down for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
Evie smirks as she walks up the ramp.
Justin: Here are your winners.... Mark Cross and Evie Jordan!
Evie face changes as she looks back at the ring, but Mark Cross says something to Justin.
Justin: Correction, Here are your winners, Fire Dragons 2.0![/i]
One person can’t carry Blast from the Past, but they can take the brunt of it every now and then. I should have looked at that rookie in my corner, trying maybe a little too hard to force that first win, maybe not terrified of Amber by the time we got out, but certainly still a little scared, and said “let me handle this one”
Despayre...I get it. The unpredictability, the creativity, the kind of flair that you appreciate watching from afar, but respect the hell out of when you see it up close. The kind where you think that hey, this dude is the real deal. He is, he’s still sharp, he still has it, as we continue that long-running theme of the day. I hoped for rust, I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t see it. He tested me, I tested him right back, high-octane, entertaining wrestling, thinking on-the fly and adapting. Despy’s record around here is pretty breathtaking, and having seen him work first-hand? I hope I get the chance to blemish it sometime, one-on-one. Maybe I can bribe the right people and make it happen. That’s the kind of contest that could blow the lid off a packed arena.
So yeah - I let Krystal down. I stood toe-to-toe with one of the best to ever step in a six-sided ring, and I knew I had a fair shake of beating him, but I was selfish. I wanted to prove myself to be the great mentor as well as the tough competitor, to prove that in just a few short weeks of Skype calls and WhatsApp messages, I’d turned a flailing rookie into a winner. That was probably my biggest claim of all, I wanted that to come true even more than I wanted to advance in the tournament. Just like how Evie pulling on a Fire Dragons 2.0 shirt meant even more to me than the win itself. Ridiculous, right? Well, like I said, everyone has the things that motivate them to step in the ring. Working a show to score their cocaine for the week could be pretty ridiculous, it depends on who you ask. It’s not my place to judge.
Same problem with Ruby, right? Another rookie, why is the result going to change? Do I feel more confident with her in my corner? Yeah, I do. She already has a few ‘dubs under her belt. Getting that monkey off your back early is a real weight lifted. It clears your mind, raises your confidence, something she certainly isn’t lacking. Plus, stylistically? Krystal’s more well-rounded, even more than Amber Ryan to be fair...but being technical relies on execution. Ruby’s quickness? That can be enough to keep even the best on their toes, Mikah’s gotta catch her first. Plus, you know what my favourite thing of all is, about speed demons? Back them in a corner, they just might find a way to slip away. My hand will definitely be there, waiting.
Real champions scrap like wounded bears, fight tooth and nail to defend their title, protect their legacy, and when they take a loss? It throws fresh fuel on their fire, they come back hitting harder, hungrier for blood than ever before. Winning the title and calling it a job well done? Well I’m sure Wolfslair are more than happy to take on new members if that’s your game and now we get to welcome Lachlan Kane, the man of few words, and one of their newest recruits, to the hot seat.
Team Eggplant should have changed its name to Team Self Doubt a long time ago. I thought opposites attract, but it seems like you and Sierra like to copy from each other’s scripts with a piece of tracing paper. It’s always a “what if” or a “but” with you two, constantly on the look-out for some kind of validation, some pat on the head, and since wrestlers aren’t known to be the most sensitive of souls, you’re probably not gonna get it from your peers.
Lachlan you don’t dip your toe into Blast from the Past. You don’t use this as a trial run, and you don’t treat it like an experiment. Hey, a World title shot at the end of it if everything goes well, that’d be nice! I swear to fucking God you’d better just struggle to convey your emotions or something, as your build-up to match number one was ridiculous. I would have hoped all sixteen slots would have gone to guys chomping at the bit for a chance. The opportunity to beat some of the biggest names in the company’s history, and carry that momentum forward into a shot at the grand prize. Instead it looks like we’ve gotten a “yeah alright I’ll have a go”. I guess my wife won something so I should too. Fuck me, how about a bit of charisma?
I’ve seen you in action in title matches before, of course. On a boat, above a swimming pool, where you and your brother were too busy kicking lumps out of each other to care about the match, no less. I’ve seen how you react when there’s a title on the line, you don’t care enough. You distract yourself with some other agenda, or have something else on your mind, or to see if you want to come back to Sin City Wrestling full-time, and we all have to play along while you work all this stuff out.
Big problem there buddy. Let me give you a demonstration. So this is me, sitting at my level right now…
Mark tilts the camera up, until he is out of shot.
Now as you can see, above me? You’re not there. You’re not going to get there either, by thinking it’d be nice to win Blast from the Past. Someone bringing me a coffee right now, that would be nice, but this opportunity is something guys work years for, sleep in the backs of vans, seedy motels or even on locker room benches, and would give their right arm for just to walk through those ropes. You’re not motivated enough for this. It’s in your voice. It’s in the things you say, the way you behave, and if I sound a little irritated by you, you’re right. It’s a little disrespectful to be honest. You could be great Lachlan. Hell, you’ve been great, in this very ring, more than once. You and Sierra made one heck of a team, and it’s a shame the original Fire Dragons didn’t get to take you guys on as champions, when you were really flying. That would have been a battle, one worth turning up for.
So I guess the question really is...am I worth turning up for? Am I worthy of your full attention, long-standing Underground champion, two-time tag champion, former Blast from the Past winner, or is this match another thing you just have to mosey on through until your next thing comes along? I’m fine if the answer’s no. I’m quite happy to leave Mikah on the sidelines, she’s been looking for an opportunity to shut me up for over a year, and I figure she knows in the ring is where I’ll feel it the most.
I want you to bring it Lach, to live up for your name and scrap for it, but I feel like you’re going to disappoint me. Let’s move on.
Mikah...well I’m gonna enjoy this one at least. Let me give you the summary of what Mikah’s going to say about this next match, so you can save having that screechy little voice in your eardrums. I’m one of the best to ever do it. My record is second to none. I’m a Hall of Famer. In the ring I’m better than every single one of you put together, look at me, nobody can do what I do. Cross is annoying. Ruby can also be annoying, sometimes. Maybe as often as I’m nice to Kris, maybe more, whatever. They kind of suit each other honestly. Her mentor is uhh...me...so she’s already gonna be really good and stuff but she’ll probably never be as good as I am right now. Oh and Lachlan don’t mess it up for me please. I’ve just saved you ten minutes of your life, you’re welcome.
I’m bored now. I’m actually bored of it. When I came to Sin City for my first interview I spoke to a few people, asked around, got a feel for the place, and I wanted to know about who really lights it up on camera around here. A couple of people said Mikah and you know what, the first few times, I maybe would have agreed, she knows how to dig into people, but it’s the same rinse/repeat level garbage every week. It’s tired, it’s predictable, it’s lame, and it’s stating the obvious. It doesn’t count as winning the war of the words when the opponents are beating THEMSELVES up before they even step in the ring.
Despayre - Oh no. Mikah - Ah fuck. Mark “The Dragon” Cross - Help me Jesus. Amber Ryan - She’s in HOW MANY Hall of Fames? Four names that have earned their reputations around these parts, all still a part of this tournament. Four names that, when you see they’re on the opposite side of the draw, you’re already starting to fear for your chances, and in the case of Amber especially, fear for your life. Despy? I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about most of the time. Mikah? Broken record. Me? I’m boring and annoying. Amber? If the only thing she had to do on-camera was kick people in the face, she’d be happy. So...why are we all opponents you’d rather avoid?
In ring ability. I’m not stupid enough to discount Mikah’s capabilities under the bright lights. Is she one of the best female wrestlers I’ve ever come across? Probably. Should that command respect? Absolutely. It already does, and that’s what annoys me about her the most. Most everybody knows what she’s done. We can read it. Most everyone knows how good she is. We can watch it. Most everyone knows you need your partner to help you out in a tag match. We’ve wrestled in them. The few that don’t, well that’s going to backfire in the worst of ways, it won’t end well. Mikah is incredible, she’s gonna never let me live it down for saying it, but what does her telling us that every week do exactly, reinforce it? Nope. It just tells us what we already knew.
Anyone that walks in the ring against Mikah full of fear of what she does, and what she’s done in this company, and in this business as a whole? They don’t need to hear her voice, or read her Tweets. They’re already expecting to lose. It isn’t because of what she says now, it’s because of what she’s done in the past. She can take that to the bank for as long as she keeps winning, and she doesn’t have to say a single word. In fact, we’d almost rather she didn’t.
See Mikah and I - We cancel each other out. We’re both better inside a ring than we are out of it. We both, if you go on results, experience, and recent form, have the edge over our respective opponents. The real battle here is Ruby and Lachlan, even though they won’t even lay a single hand on each other. Which of them wants it more, which one is hungry for taking their career to the next level, which one is more confident, which one is more slippery. Honestly? I only see one winner, and they sure ain’t Irish.
Real champions have bouncebackability. Boing. The defending champion crashing out in round one was a colossal failure, hold my hands up for that, but remember what this is. Random partnerships. A random draw. Lots of new faces. The format is the same, sure, but the complexion is so completely different to 2020. Does it suck, hell yes it does, but let me tell you there is NOBODY more deserving of another try, and nobody more capable of proving exactly why. Semi-Finals - Here I come.
The screen fades to black, but the scene continues, with the sound of a ringing phone.
Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. *BEEP* is not available. At the tone, please record your message.
Hey Amanda? It's Mark. Listen...I know we haven't spoken since you left for Utah, and I get it. I get everything, finally, after all this time it dawned on me. I'm sorry you had to go to the dance, I should have made it come to you. I'm sorry I didn't make wrestling around Miami work, I know I was always more focussed on the road, but I should have changed my mindset. You still never told me why you asked for the divorce but...I figured it out...and you were right. I always put myself first. I always have. I would have quit wrestling in a heartbeat if you'd asked me to, but you'd never want to put me in that position, probably thought it would have broken my heart, which it wouldn’t, but you never should have had to. This isn’t some come back to me plea by the way, and you don’t have to call back. I just wanted you to know that you were right. Again. As always. Do one last thing for me, be happy. You deserve it.
