The Boys, The Spyder, & The Lionheart: Part 1 - Co-Op
Aug 24, 2021 7:58:02 GMT -5
ROUND II | Ross Hanson likes this
Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2021 7:58:02 GMT -5
Moline, Illinois
Arriving at my awaiting airliner after XWF’s Warfare and seeing two identical planes, I’m quickly reminded of the events that took place prior to the show. I sent one of my planes with Ian Dream to pick up Ross Hanson, head to Key West and cause some havoc during the MIX. Tonight was a night for me, personally.
I set fire to the bromance of all bromances and burned it down on live television.
Corey Smith was my best friend, my tag team partner, my brother from another mother. I called his loyalty to me into question because he befriends a man that has made no secret about wanting me dead. There’s only so much a man can take and that shit hurt me deep.
“But Corey!” they protest me.
It’s easy to stand on the outside of my life and judge me on the surface of things I do. Loyalty though trumps all else. I’m a marked man inside and outside of the wrestling business and its those that I keep on both sides of that line that I expect the most from. Those are the ones that I expect to have my back always. For what it’s worth, Corey Smith had my back… but only when it was convenient for him to have it.
It’s possible that cooler heads might have prevailed had the fans too not showed me their disloyalty. Those things they used to cheer me for: the defiance, the kicking ass with a smile, my willingness to put my body on the line for them…they started booing me for.
I’ve noticed their attitude toward me changing for the last three or four months but I buried it. I chucked it away and swept it under the rug. Things started to reach critical mass at XWF’s War Games when I verbally castrated my best friend and they reached their breaking point tonight on Warfare in my Last Man Standing Hart Championship defense against Reggie Estrada. Throughout the match, the crowd went from about 75% cheering me, to about 85% booing me by the end of the match.
I noticed.
It was hard not to.
I-75 - Georgia
"Hey...Ian?" Ross calls out toward the Golden Age’s resident Dreamboat from the driver seat of Thaddeus Duke’s quarter million dollar custom Audi R8 Spyder.
"Yeah, Ross?" Ian replies, looking in his direction.
Ross honks the horn, pushing the speedometer well into triple digits. Ian leans back in his seat even farther than he thought he could, grasping the handle above his passenger window. "Is my driving okay?" Ross asks as he steers onto the inner shoulder of Interstate 75, passing a pair of sedans.
"Y-yeah, sure,” Ian replies unconvincingly. “Please don't kill us, please don't kill us, please don't kill us. Please don't kill us..." he mutters under his breath.
"I got you, Dreamboat,” Ross says as the speed increases in the German built supercar. “We'll be on the outskirts of Atlanta in a little while."
"Are we in a hurry?" Ian asks with sweat beads beginning to form on his forehead. The speed now reaches 150, with plenty of pedal left in the accelerator. Ross looks over at the radio, smiling and reaching for the volume knob. A road sign the pair sees blurs by so fast they couldn't possibly read it reads: Atlanta 75 Miles
"I don't think so, why?” Ross asks as the Golden Age theme comes on the radio. “Oh man! I love this song!" Ross cranks up the volume, then starts reaching around for a certain switch. Ian cringes a little at the extreme treble in the front speakers, while Ross starts singing along.
I don’t like feeling stung. I don’t like putting trust in people and watching that trust get violated time and time again. I don’t like bending over backwards to help people just to be cast aside like I didn’t mean shit to them anyway.
After War Games, Corey had every opportunity to reach out to me. He could’ve called. He could’ve showed up at my place in New York. He lives in Florida, he could’ve very easily chased me down for a chat in Key West.
He chose none of that.
Instead, he wanted violence.
So…
I gave him violence.
And I’m the bad guy for it.
He was set to defend his Xtreme Championship against Jim Caedus.
Corey Smith would not walk out of Warfare under his own power.
Corey Smith would not be successful in defending his title.
Corey Smith would not retain possession of his guaranteed title shot 24/7 briefcase.
I made certain of all three of those things.
It’s very possible that I ended Corey Smith’s career. That by itself makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable.
Yet I regret nothing.
"Doesn't the sunroof open up on this thing?" Ross asks Ian.
"Ross, can we slow down...just a bit?” Ian asks. “But I’m sure one of the switches will open the roof.”
Ross finds the switch, swerving just in time to avoid clipping a nearby SUV. Ross finds out that this car doesn't have a sunroof...because it’s a hard top convertible.
"Oh! Shit yeah!” Ross cries out excitedly. “Where was this in Key West?" Ross now pushes speeds approaching 180. Ian is too concerned with staying alive to retort. When the roof peels back, Ian is nearly picked up off his seat.
"Oh man sorry, I forgot to answer you,” Ross prefaces, remembering Ian asked him a question just a little bit ago. “No, we're not in a hurry. Why were you asking?"
“No reason at all!” Ian lies, trying to hang onto his sanity.
"Were you trying to stop at the bar or something? We can do that…" Ross offers.
“Actually, there’s a Slaughterhouse Gym location here in Atlanta since my dad was born here so I was hoping to stop by for a moment,” Ian suggests.
Ross has the car at 199mph, out of a top speed of 200….only to start slowing down, and turn the radio off.
Boarding the plane with my son by my side, and my business manager Paul, we take our seats and buckle in. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I make a call to Ross Hanson.
It rings and rings before finally going to voicemail.
“Hey Ross it’s Thad, call me back as soon as you get this,” I say before ending the call.
“I know you’re upset Thad,” Paul begins as he lifts the Hart title in one hand and Corey Smith’s guaranteed title shot briefcase in the other. “Tonight… you made one hell of a statement.”
“Forgive me if I’m not exactly sharing in your excitement,” I fire back at him. “It didn’t have to be this way.”
“It didn’t,” Paul agrees. “But he made the choice, Thad. Not you. Yes, you’ll be villainized for it because God King Lord Corey Smith can do no wrong.”
“It hurts,” I say to him.
“Because it was the right thing to do, even if you and everyone else can’t yet see it,” Paul tries to reassure me.
While Paulie does Paulie things, I try to reach the boys again. This time Ian. His phone though goes straight to voicemail.
“You mother fuckers better god damn get ahold of me and fast! I don’t know how you…” that message ran out of room so I wait a few seconds and call back again. “I dunno how you two manage to lose my plane and my fucking car when you were gone for like…” Out of room again.
“FUCK!”
“Thad?” Frankie calls out as the engines wind up and the plane begins its trek down the runway.
“What Bub?” I ask despondently.
“If your car isn’t on the plane then its obviously with Ross and Ian right?” he suggests.
"About that man, listen,” Ross begins, continuing the conversation about his past with Ian’s father. “There's something you gotta know...or already know, and figured it was going to come up sooner or later…"
“That we’re going to die in a fiery car crash?” Ian jokes. Well sorta.
"Nah, look, not a car on the road in front of us!" Ross tries to reassure Ian. Everyone is pulled over onto the outer shoulder of the road. "No, about your dad. And my dad. And what happened between them."
“Oh yeah, I’m sorry that happened,” Ian begins. “I apologize on behalf of my dad. You know how he is. I love him, but he’s crazy.”
"Not your fault. You weren't in on any of it,” Ross says to Ian. “I'm gonna be completely honest with you, Ian," he begins as he slows down to a paltry 90 miles an hour.
"I hate my dad,” he continues on. “I hate him for hiding it from the world that he gave me up for adoption as a child. I hate him for never finding me when I lost my adoptive family and had nobody to take me in. I hate him for all of a sudden wanting to have a relationship with me only after he finds out his uncle trained me to wrestle, and I hate the manipulative piece of shit that he was and is."
Ian just stares at Ross in disbelief, who just looks ahead and drives on.
"Your dad took things too far when he kidnapped my son, trying to get some kind of advantage over my dad in a title match. However...he didn't know that was my son, and neither did I at the time...again, because my dad kept it from me. So yeah, if you want to see your dad...we should do that. I just wanted you to know, I got no hard feelings for anyone but my dad."
“Thank you,” Ian replies sincerely. “Once again I’m sorry that happened, I don’t want to be my dad. I’m just bein’ Ian and I want to be your bro.”
Ian smiles at Ross. "Want no more, my dude. I got you, whatever comes up." Ross reaches over, throwing a hand out for a bro-shake. Ian pulls Ross into one of Thad’s classic bro-hugs.
"Thank you, man. Also, can we slow down a bit?" Ian asks.
"Yeah, definitely,” Ross agrees. “Sorry about that. I was trying to get out from behind that semi."
"You passed him about half an hour ago, Ross…" Ian protests.
"There was another one?" Ross asks, playing innocent. Ian shakes his head at Ross, who shrugs in response. "You sure you don't wanna drive?"
"Oh, no. No way," the silver haired super villain insists.
"Come on, man. I'm sure he's got insurance on this car, right? I got my license, we can learn to drive the rest of the way to your dad's place .."
Fact is, I’ve had two “best friends” throughout my career. One of them is Corey Smith. The other is Dolly Waters. I sent the boys to wreak havoc in the MIX in my absence. I strongly suggested they ensure she advances in the MIX. They did their job but as luck might have it, Dolly Waters, my sister from another mister, has a 'sense' when things are… off. Before Ian and Ross even realized what was happening, Dolly darted right past them in the back of the OCW Arena and pretty much stole my plane.
At cruising altitude, I retreat to my secure office onboard and pull my phone out again before loading the Audi app. After a few selections, I activate the GPS locator on my Spyder. A few seconds later, my Audi pops up on Interstate 75 in Georgia.
Convinced its the boys, I send a text to my pilot to change course to Atlanta before calling the pilot of my other plane still sitting in Illinois.
“On what fucking planet did you think it was okay to strand Ian and Ross and let Dolly steal my fucking plane!?” I shout into the speaker phone just as he answers.
The pilot stammers for several moments.
“Sir!” he protests defensively. “It was Dolly fucking Waters! We assumed that…”
“You assume NOTHING!” I shout back angrily. “She was supposed to be in Key West! Not god forsaken Moline fucking Illinois! Do you have any fucking idea how much shit this caused!?”
“But it was Dolly! She’s your friend and we just assumed that you sent her,” he protests nervously. I can hear the engines winding up on the other plane as they’re taxiing to the runway for takeoff.
“YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” I shout out. “I HAD NO FUCKING IDEA SHE WAS IN MOLINE! SHE GOT INVOLVED WHEN I LAID OUT SMITH AND I HIT HER BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW SHE WAS THERE!”
In a fit of anger, I throw my phone like a fucking fastball at the wall. The phone, like its owner, is indestructible. Pacing for a few moments, I finally calm myself enough to finish my call. By now, I’m sure the other Lionheart One jumbo jet is airborne.
“Mack, when you land at J.F.K,” I begin coldly but calmly. “Don’t you even think about leaving. Put the plane in the hangar and you sit the fuck tight until I get there. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” the pilot replies quietly.
"Fine,” Ian replies to Ross and his request to teach him to drive. “But when Thad kills us if something happens to his car, he's starting with you."
"All right,” Ross replies back. “This looks like as good a spot as any. I'm going to find a turnaround spot, we can switch places, and let's just take it easy the rest of the way. Sound good?"
"I think so,” Ian replies with a sigh of relief.
"You got this bro,” Ross says, trying to glow up Ian’s confidence. “You know you got this. Don't psych yourself out, psych yourself up! Positive attitudes and shit!" Ross takes the next off ramp, goes straight through it, and pulls over on the onramp back onto the highway. He puts the car in neutral and applies the brake, not shutting it off, then gestures to Ian to switch places.
“I can’t do the whole Quicksilver bit, so we gotta do this the old fashioned way,” Ross says with a laugh.
While switching seats, Ross begins to give advice to Ian, who prepares himself to drive a vehicle for the very first time.
"Now the thing to remember is, you're in control. Nobody else can give you advice on what to do when you're driving. It's entirely up to you how this goes. Whatever feels right, go with that instinct. Ease off the clutch and om the gas."
“Go with your gut,” Ian surmises. “You got it, Ross Handsome!”
Ian neglects to use a turn signal, and attempts to merge left back onto the onramp. A pickup truck blasts by, honking its horn. Ian barely gets the Audi back onto the shoulder just in time, slamming the brakes.
“That was close,” Ross says quietly.
“Not close enough to get us…” Ian laughs nervously at his attempt at humor...and Ross joins in. Soon, both Ian and Ross are laughing rather heartily.
“See? We’re gonna be just fine, man!” Ross assures his newfound brother.
A semi flies by on “fine, man” and when it passes, a loud pop is heard followed by a crashing sound. As the car rocks back and forth from the semi’s air drag, Ross' face looks like he just watched the video of the elephant getting hit by a bus in Thailand for the first time while Ian shields his face as if a nuclear explosion just went off beside him.
"What...what was…" Ross says wide eyed.
Ian looks outside the car to see the pieces of the driver's side mirror scattered about the road. "Fuck!" Ian exclaims uncharacteristically.
To be continued...