Posted by Red Axis on July 6, 2004, 9:38 pm, in reply to "Re: - 2"

Slava paced, past the chair and between the wall and the table of the hotel room, mumbling angered tones under his breath as he sporadically tapped his knuckles on the wall as he passed by it. Journalist Earle Shaw had just left just moments before, following what turned out to be an interview most surprising. “I don't get it.” he muttered through clenched teeth. Joshua Peterman was standing off to the side of the living room Slava was pacing in, calmly sipping on a glass of cranberry juice, looking at the artwork on the walls. “Get what?” he questioned, with out drawing his attention from a painting. Slava stopped, noticing that Josh wasn’t paying attention. “This choreographed circus called professional wrestling.” “What's there not to, 'get' about it?” his left eyebrow craned into a signature look no one knew too well, “Two people get inside of a ring and beat the living piss out of each other to a scripted outcome, in front of hundreds in the arena and even more so at home.” Almost as if he was in an art gallery, Josh side stepped to the next painting on the wall. “You know.” He added under his breath, “Van Gogh was under appreciated as an artist. Slava, obviously ignoring Josh’s subtle attempts to change the subject, resumed cutting his torrent path through nothing and stamping down the carpet “What about the storylines?” He fumed, turning around once again to see Josh’s back still turned from him, “There has to be some quality about wrestling that keeps the people coming back.” Finally acknowledging Slava with eye contact, Josh paused his perusing of the paintings and looked left over his shoulder, “Well, once you get beyond the degrading sex factor of the business, you do have angles and feuds.” “All scripted?” “Yes.” Slava glanced down, almost like the thought of Svetlana pained him. “Then why hasn't Argus or someone informed me of this kidnapping angle?” “. . .” Josh was silent, edging on the brink of saying something, but opting not too. Slava resumed. “It doesn't make sense, you say that this game is totally scripted and choreographed, yet no one has told me the details regarding this kidnapping angle between Svetlana and Argus.” Josh finally broke his silence. “Slava.” He said in a cold-hearted stare. “Yes.” “What's your stance on Americans?” he smiled. “I'd like to decapitate them.” Slava sarcastically smiled back. Josh’s grin faded as he promptly turned around, “And it's because of this stance that you're taken as tough to approach by,” he walked towards Slava clapping his hands together, “well,” he paused and grinned, “pretty much anyone in the CAL. Being that they're all American and or anti-Communist.” “What are you getting at?” Slava questioned. “People think you're going to kill them if you look at them funny!” He exclaimed with a laugh. “For the most part, I would, if I were presented the opportunity and the means of getting away with it.” The little annoyance bolted around Slava and landed looking at a different painting, “See!” he started, making it look like he wasn’t paying attention, “It's exactly that mentality there that's getting you into trouble and making it tough to work with you.” “Then what about a phone call?” Slava turned to face the back of Josh, “Or written contract?” he took one step forward, “If Argus was going to do this, he should have at least warned me in some way.” And another. “Argus is scared shitless of you!” Josh yelled, while stepping to another painting, “If I were him I wouldn't want to face you either!” Slava followed Josh, getting a step closer, “Then why the angle? Why would he kidnap Svetlana with out telling me if he was scared of the outcome and my impending rage.” “I don't think he was much scared of you when the angle started.” He sounded inquisitive, almost smart. “Why is that?” “Because you hadn't given him a 'hammer and sickle' over the top ropes when he first kidnapped her.” “Then why doesn't he release her or something? This 'angle' doesn't need to end in a huge blaze of guts and glory. I just want her back and if it has to be some type of off of camera exchange then so be it.” Slava edged a little closer. Josh sidestepped to yet another painting, again not paying attention to the now annoyed Russian behind him. “I don't think Argus wants to do that though. He'll lose a lot over this if he gives her back with out some sort of climax.” Slava turned towards Josh and took another step. “But if he's scared of me, then how am I going to go about getting her back?” “Have you ever thought of toning it down a little? Not going out for ‘intent to injure’ every single match?” Josh laughed at his own question, already knowing the upcoming answer. “No,” Slava yelled, “I haven't. I'm not in this because I want to show boat. I do this for the paycheque and to extract a little bit of pain towards every person I'm up against. I'm quite happy with this little combination, I get paid to hurt people.” “But,” he raised a finger, “if everyone is afraid to go against you, because you keep on hurting all the star players, then you're not going to go anywhere in this game, because no one will want to fight you.” And promptly brought the finger onto the painting, creating an oily slash mark across its center, “You're promoting a very vicious cycle Slava and you're not going to come out on top of it.” “Then what do you suggest I do?” Josh sidestepped to yet another painting, “Your upcoming match against Alternative 2.0, try to show boat a little.” Unimpressed with the works of Picasso, he was quick to dispatch to the second last painting in the room, “Don't just go out and try to hurt your opponent. Then, maybe if you're lucky, enough people will see this subtle attitude change and Argus will come to you about Svetlana and you can eventually work towards getting her back.” “You're making it sound like she's being dangled above my head like a little toy for a kitten and if I don't swoon the audience I'm not going to get her back.” Slava edged a little closer still, this time a look of intention glancing across his face. “Actually,” Josh moved closer to the painting, investigating the bottom left corner where he thought he saw something, “getting her back depends as much on Jack as it does on you.” Slava’s eyes instantly went wide. “What!?” He thundered. Josh turned around and backed against the wall “. . . Umm. . .” he stuttered. Slava edged closer, a look of murder growing in his eyes. “What is it Josh!” his voice grew progressively louder, “What does that sneaky little bastard have to do with this.” Josh in an act of desperation attempted to move to the middle of the room, putting himself between the door and Slava, “Nothing!” He yelled back in retort, “He's just your tag team partner, that's all.” Slava took one more step forward, this time standing over the frightened Canadian. “I don't think you're not lying too me!” he yelled, shoving the words out of his mouth in a rushed fashion. Josh was quick to react, “No, I'm not. . .” After a brief pause his eyes widened, realizing the error he just committed, “YES!YESIAM!” he corrected, “You know, I’m going for a walk.” He spun around and took a step forward. A second step was prevented by a hand clapping down on the young mans shoulder. “You and I.” Slava yelled, taking a few steps forward, “Are going for a walk.”