That day in Atlanta seems so far away almost another me. Tony put me in the hands of his greatest tag team, Major Uras and Demon 'Dogg' Rage 'The World Powers'. Nicholi Vladimir Uras was a 6' 8" over 350 pounds of pure Proud Russian American muscle. He knew how to fill a ring and dominate an audience. From his blonde spiked hair to his cheesy russian accent his one true love was wrestling and blunt force trauma. The only person who shared his passion was his high flying 5' 8" 236 pound partner, Micky Anthony Rage, whose ability to turn anyplace into a very bloody grinder left most opponents riding out on a stretcher. There is a rumor that on the day they meet it was at a bar that was later condemned due to damages. But that is neither confirmed nor denied and all I got for my questions was more torture... I mean Training.
I really can't complain their school of match tactics was a very long course of pain with a thirteen point review in all edges angular. I had spent years in the shoot fighting circuit and never had pain inflicted on me like they showed. Nicoli was a natural at keeping control of the body while inflicting massive amounts of body pain he was skilled at all kinds of slams with the flair of an artist. He almost seemed to throw an opponent around with the easy of a baby and their favorite toy. Micky was an aerial artist with more then a few surprises of his own he was able to match the ferocity of his partner with moves out of nowhere, one commentator once said 'Give him a shoe string and he'll give you a show'. His high flying style was fierce but what most of his opponents fear was the submission attack he was known for off balancing his opponent then swooping in and snapping them into a bone crushing submission that few rarely escaped.
the train stops in a town and I grimace in pain as the hustle and bustle of the train station gives me focus to gripe about then I listen as people walk by my cabin and wondered upon what stages of their life they where on then what they might think of mine. I try and laugh as I recall my last night in their training...
The street lights illuminate the evening as The taxi stops in the middle of the street. All manner of people are jostling each other for elbow room to reach there destination. In front of us was a club with a faded sign that announced it was called 'The Pirates Brew'. We climb out of the cab and enter through an unlit door. The interior had the feel of a real dive bar you know the one that the locals don't even frequent. Bartender has his own professional bodyguards behind bulletproof glass kinda homey. All eyes were on Uras as he barreled through the crowd leading us to the back where a dimly light table sat. The bar grew loud with many a pained complaint. The Faded molding of carved bar wenches seem extra crummy as We close on the table and it groaned as Uras Squeezed his massive frame onto the aging wood and with a glare he quieted the bar to murmured complaints.
Uras(cheesey russian accent)- Hear that. Why you Americans like such flimsy stuff, It's like you build for tiny children. In Mother Russia wood is built very strong very Durable like Russian men....a contented look appeared on his hardened features.
Rage- Alright don't get your ego in a spacesuit. American power is fast and devastating like me. We're built for style, but I'll teach ya. ...and then both men start to laugh and bang on the table. An aged bar wench sidles up to the table and planted some suspicious mugs of frothing liquid in front of us and then leaves US staring at the things she left on our table...
Wayne- OK, what is this all about? ...as I eyed the Brew I was sure ways causing smoke to rise from the table... I mean if its a drinking contest again this is not my Idea of a promising spot.
Uras- Actually we're here to congratulate you on passing Basic Tactics. Tony says you leave tomorrow for your next training ground.
Rage- You take a train to the coast, catch a flight for Dublin,Ireland to train with Eurotrasher and Grimswolf they run a bunch of underground clubs all over Europe.
Wayne- You mean the 'Eurotrasher' as in Multi Time Champion from the DarkSide Wrestling has fought in over more countries than any other champion, and won. I hear he has beat even you Nickoli. ...Uras loses the joviality on his face and his words are clipped and cold..
Uras- Be careful of him he is extreme as in walking on sun extreme. I respect that, but tell him one thing for me when you see him tell him 'I am not young boy I will see him again.'
Rage-I remember that match, Isn't that the one where he took the chains to you and left you hanging from the rafters?
Uras- Way to go Michail, remind me of that moment, I don't go around telling how your Ex, put you in the hospital, in critical care.
Rage- She hit me with a seventy-eight Ford, Solid metal. I was only out for a week. he looked shocked and mortified at the mention of his ex.
Uras- Da! and Eurotrash had chains, as you americans say same difference. But enough of that Grimswolf is trash, He wouldn't last two weeks in a Russian girl scout troupe. He can't take a beating. This man, I wouldn't throw against a baby seal.
Rage- Umm.. Nikolai, better remember he helped to chain you to the rafters, his only problem is he don't know when to win. He wears himself out droppin a beating but has no follow through.
Uras- Da! Thats what his lady friend told you after you unchained me, Moy Drug. They break down into another thumping round of laughing as Rage wipes the tears from his eyes he calms and begins to speak...
Rage- Now seeing how this is your last night with us me and Uras arranged a sorta graduation. ...Both men begin to giggle like hyenas over a kill, and Urass' big frame made the table shake causing more of the strange brew in the cups splash on the table causing more smoke I was sure to rise... Now you can drink what's in the cups or turn around and deal with the guy who's about to hit you..
The hit slams me from the right side of my face tossing me into the wall. Bracing off the wall with my leg, I grab his waist and flap jacked him into the wall. Then as he recoils off the wall and flies away from me, I realized I misjudged his weight and he bounced harder than I thought. He lands on his two buddies that had been rushing in after knocking all three to the ground. Quickly grabbing a chair by the legs, and swinging it into the first moving mass I can find. The chair shatters...and upon hearing the cry of cartilage damage, thinking to myself hope its an ear buddy, I want you be able to hear me tomorrow. Out of nowhere I felt the tread of a boot on my head and the impact has me staggering towards the now empting bar. I am amazed at the intricate woodworking on the bar. Suddenly he shoulder blocks me in my mid section. As my ribs collide hard against the reinforced counter they scream in and give a cry of protest. I reached out grabbing a large bottle and bringing it down hard into my stomach and the back of his head. The bottle disintegrates and he collapsed under the blow, except for me holding his head. Smiling I lift him up and bring his head slamming down off the bar. Looking up into the mirror behind the bar shows two more stalking towards me out of the chaos. Snatching a mug in each hand and turning around to give a meeting of the minds to both. Suddenly I am being grabbed and forcefully thrown out the window, as I prepared for the impact with the concrete the last thing I saw was red and blue.
I wake on the train with a photos of me splayed across a police car angled in the road,shot from various angles and a couple dozen photos of a totally destroyed bar and I'm betting it's very angry owner. A note stated that 'I had done good and because I had flipped off the officer whose car I landed on They'd pick up the bill signed, WP.'The Whistle announced that its time to roll and the car jerked from the initial motion then began to gently gain speed. I realized I have no clue what was in those glasses and now my broken ribs make sense. I'd laugh but it hurts.
Fade to black
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