Roman Cripate: Road to Redemption 4

[Roman Cripate]

Looking out at the Muscovites from behind the curtain Roman Cripate smiles to himself sheepishly as he bobs back and forth betraying the nervousness that’s rattling him; Ewan Jakeway and Ethen Bonelo, off this evening, standing behind him. Turning around to face them he smiles.

Cripate: “I can’t do this guys.”

Jakeway: “You never could. That’s why you sat behind Ethen and let him do everything.”

Bonelo: “You’ll do fine Roman. You were the best before we teamed, you beat the best, you nearly toppled everyone a couple weeks ago. It’s just Brandon Young, it’s not like you’re stepping into the ring with Scorpion.”

Roman nods his head before turning back, still jittery.

Cripate: “I’ve never done well with success before though. It changes you, it makes people expect things: it wasn’t what this entire thing was about. It was supposed to be fun, just going out and do what we wanted without having to worry about people expecting greatness from us. Now look at me.”

Bonelo: “Just don’t worry about it. Go out, do your thing, and everything will work out for the best. It’s your turn to shine, you deserve it.”

Jakeway: “And if you burn out again and go off the deep end at least no one knows it really was you.”

Roman guffaws as he turns around and smiles at Ewan.

Cripate: “Thanks.”

Leaping down from the perch he heads towards the gorilla position as Ewan and Ethen head towards the back to watch the match.

Roman Cripate: Origins
2.2.

“Seriously?” he said as he stared at him literally bouncing off the wall. “This is what you spend your money on?” I shook my head in disbelief at the both of them as he drop kicked the wall and it sent him tumbling backwards before he back rolled to his feet. “We’re talking about someone who plastered his face on the front of a helicopter though” I responded. He chuckled slightly to himself as he remembered his first encounter with the helicopter, setting down in front of his beach house and the subsequent circular chase straight out of a Walt Disney film that ensued.

“It really is a Mickey Mouse operation with him around isn’t it?” He questioned as finally the frenzy ended and our partner walked towards us. “Why don’t you give it a try? It’s like a bouncy castle but not some lame generic bouncy castle: It’s not one you’d see at a Jeofism convention, or comic con, or a bar mitzvah, no, it’s the …” The immediate sideways glance at him set the both of us off laughing, drowning out the rest of his impassioned speech before he glared at us.

“Jeofism isn’t something to laugh at, it’s …” Once more we couldn’t contain ourselves as we broke down again into a fit of laughter as he crossed his arms in front of himself and stared at us as we tried to collect ourselves. “Sorry … it’s just, the memory of …” I said before taking a deep breath and straightening up. I looked to the right and nodded towards him as he sat on the chesterfield. Looking back at the crazy Cuban, he flopped into an overstuffed chair and leaned back with a smile.

“So, what’s the story? All I remember you saying was that he was getting old or something and couldn’t keep up in the ring so you needed someone who could carry you this time?” I glared at him as my partner chuckled to the right and he tapped his head before raising his hand. “Sorry, that wasn’t it. It’s that he’s getting old and his personality consists of yelling at the neighbour kids to get off his lawn and you needed someone with a little bit of charisma.” The frown that had previously been on my face was wiped off and replaced by a small smirk as it was his turn to grimace before the Cuban held up his hand once more. “No, know I remember. Secretly you wanted me to take him out once and for all so you could get back in the sack with her. What’s the story here? Who’s sloppy seconds is she?”

This time both of us growled at him as he leaned back in his chair with a mock, shock expression on his face before raising both hands in front of him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We’re all cool here, all friends, we’re partners that’s what we do. You make fun of Jeofism, I make fun of your guys’ orgy’s at a beachside condo.” Turning to his left towards me he shook his head. “Tell me why we’re putting up with him again?”

“’Cause …” before I could finish, the Cuban interrupted me. “Because without me it would just be the two of you and where’s the fun in that? You guys have done everything together, including ...” It was his turn to get interrupted. “Don’t say it.” Raising his hands in protest he continued on. “,winning championship’s all over the globe. You guys were looking for a new challenge and what’s a greater one than trying to keep track of me. Plus I promised him a ride in the ‘copter if he let me party with you guys” he said pointing towards me.

“Really” came from the corner in an accusatory tone, “you’re putting up with him just to get a ride in that thing?” I shrugged my shoulders before I smiled at him and uttered one word. “Jeofism.”

Immediately we burst into laughter as the Cuban shook his head.

I use to give a fuck, now I give a fuck less
What do I think of success?
It sucks. Too much stress.
--Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter

The words of Jay-Z mirror the seemingly recurring pattern of success and the inevitable fall of those who attain it. Heavy the head that wears the crown, At Scars and Stripes Roman Cripate nearly did the unthinkable, overcoming twenty three other men in the Royal Rumble. Unfortunately he was unable to beat the twenty fourth as Brett ‘King’ Cross knocked him off the apron straight into a second place finish while booking his ticket to Prestige and the main event.

For many Roman’s performance was a success, outlasting such names as Jack Bull and Danny Tenfold, eliminating Scorpion and Bane, and finally making his mark on The Asylum. No longer would he be able to sneak up on the competition out of nowhere, instead he was a name brand, success seemingly taking away one of his great advantages, being unknown. Now he was a marked man, all eyes were on him to continue forward, to continue his pursuit to the top and back up his boisterous rhetoric of being the best that no longer seemed so farfetched.

Past success does not preclude future success however, and with a match against Brandon Young, who’s showing at Scars and Stripes was similarly impressive, captivating the Washington crowd with his high-flying attacks, Roman Cripate found himself in tough. He was essentially facing himself from a month ago, a man with all the potential to make a name for himself, just needing the right opportunity to emerge from the shadows. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain, the exact opposite of Roman’s current predicament.

Success? It sucks.

The sounds of ‘Otis’ by Jay-Z and Kanye West fill the small personal gym as Roman Cripate lies on a declined bench with about two hundred pounds on the rack. Not an exorbitant sum by any stretch of the imagination, but as he pulls it down and pushes up effortlessly with flawless form, the quiet strength of the masked man is exposed. After fifteen reps he pulls himself up and shakes out his arms as he looks back towards Ethen Bonelo in the spotter’s position.

Cripate: “How’d that look?”

Bonelo: “Too good. You’ve got to rack some more on the stick or you’re just standing still.”

Roman gets up from the bench and pulls a set of twenties off the plate stand and passes one off to Ethen who racks it up on one side as he does the other. Suitably rested he lowers himself on the declined bench and grips the bar before inhaling, holding his breath for a second and then exhaling as he pushes the bar off the supports and begins to lift once more. Five reps in he begins to slow down and eventually caps out at nine with Ethen grabbing hold of the bar and helping him put it to rest. A light sweat has begun to form on Roman’s head and he reaches out and grabs a towel. Wiping at his brow, he turns towards Ethen.

Bonelo: “You’re taking this seriously.”

Roman stares at him without saying anything, breathing in moderate bursts as he wipes his brow once more, the machinations of his mind slowly coming together.

Cripate: “I’ve got to make the best of this. I can’t look back and do the ‘what-if’s’ again. I can’t play the blame game over and over. Eventually I knew we were going to end up back in the spotlight but I just didn’t think it was going to be like this. I thought it was going to be us on top of the world, or you, never me.”

Ethen nods his head as he studies Roman from beneath his mask before grabbing hold of the weight bar for a moment.

Bonelo: “I know but this proves it. If you hadn’t worked hard you wouldn’t have got back to where you are. You’ve become so quick to deflect, to run away from everything because of what’s happened that people no longer appreciate, or in this case know, what you’re capable of. I’ve always said you could do this if you wanted too.”

Cripate: “Exactly. I don’t want this, it was forced on me.”

Bonelo: “I don’t believe that for a second Roman. I know you, possibly better than you know yourself. I knew what was going on long before you two came out and told me remember. If you hadn’t wanted this at some level you wouldn’t have competed at Scars and Stripes. If you didn’t want this opportunity to make a name for yourself you wouldn’t be down here doing this. It’s not how you expected it to happen but you’re getting exactly what you, sorry, what we wanted.”

Roman looks at Ethen and cocks his head sideways in a questioning gesture.

Bonelo: “We wanted to get back to the top. We said that we were going to prove that we were the best in this business no matter what our reputation was, we were nobodies coming into The Asylum and Ewan and I still are but you’re a household name now. You’ve always wanted this. You thought you’d blown your opportunity years ago and you wanted that one chance to make up for it, a second opportunity and you’ve got it. That’s the success you want Roman. It’s not in-ring, it’s not tangible, it’s not what anyone else will consider the reason you’re successful but you are already. You did something that no one expected you to do when you fought and brought me back. No one expected you, either of you, to get here but sure enough look at you! You beat Scorpion, you beat Jack Bull, you beat Tom Roberts and Meltdown; if that isn’t what you wanted then there’s no reason why you’re down here doing this for Brandon Young.”

Roman takes a deep breath as he pulls himself up off the bench, foregoing his final set on the bench. He leans up against the wall and nods his head towards Ethen who gives him some space, the weight of his words visibly weighing on his partner. The room stays quiet before slowly the foot of Roman begins to tap slowly, almost in perfect timing as if he were coming off the ropes back and forth.

Cripate: “I’ve got the speed to compete but I don’t know about the strength. If I was a little bit stronger maybe I could’ve had Cross. I could’ve knocked him off the apron instead of having to flip him off.”

Bonelo: “And that’s why we work at it. It’s not going to come over night, it might not even come but the only way you find out is to give it a try.”

Cripate: “So how do I go about taking down Mr. 'Flip's n' Shit', Brandon Young? Been a long time since it’s just been me against some ugly mug.”

Ethen chuckles to himself, the brevity of the situation not extinguishing the humour of his partner. Plopping down onto the edge of the bench he rubs at his temple for a moment before looking at Roman.

Bonelo: “I think junior showed a lot of talent at Scars and Stripes and he’s going to be hungry. I can’t imagine he’s not looking at you as an opportunity to really cement himself, but also potentially with a modicum of jealousy. Logically, he could very well feel like you stole his spot. You both wrestle a very similar style, he has a bit more flair but technically you both rely on aerial’s more than anything else. I think your best bet though is to take him down and keep him down.”

Cripate: “Been a long time since that was my job. Usually you’re responsible for that riv’.

Ethen chuckles slightly.

Bonelo: “That’s one I haven’t heard in a long time.”

Cripate: “Since the Illinois days I imagine.”

Bonelo: “Yeah, probably. We can work on that though, knock some of the rust off and if push comes to shove you can go back to flying around the ring like a chicken with your head cut off.”

Cripate: “Just like you blindly wandering in and starting fisticuffs with the champions butt buddy.”

Bonelo: “Exactly like that.”

Roman and Ethen chuckle slightly as Roman gets back to his workout, picking up a dumbbell and reverse curling it as Ethen looks on.

Bonelo: “It’s a big match for you though. You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders at the moment and it’s not to your advantage. You’re not Danny Tenfold where the fans live vicariously through him and support him all the way. Instead you’ve got expectations, you’ve got people who want to see you succeed but aren’t so heavily invested in you that they’re going to power you forward when you need it most. You’ve brought the calamitous effect of success upon yourself, you’ve got so much to fight against that it almost seems like Brandon Young should be the least of your concerns.”

Cripate: “It’s back to the way things were before the mask.”

Bonelo: “And it’s the way things will be long after the mask is gone. You’re not going to change who you are. We’ve had this goal and you’re close to achieving it. You might think you’re not ready but you are prepared for this. Remember when I gave you that blazer moons ago?”

Roman nods his head in the affirmative as he pauses after his set.

Bonelo: “That’s exactly what this is like. It’s your chance to step out from what you are. Scars and Stripes was the beginning of the journey and Brandon Young is the next step. He sees this match as an opportunity to step into the limelight but for you it’s an opportunity to continue down your path. You’re going to be nervous, no doubt about it but that’s normal. All you’ve got to remember is that Brandon Young is the same as you. Anything you know that can beat you can beat him. You’re talent, the same natural talent that is the reason everyone in The Asylum should care about you, can carry you through and will make you better off in the long run. He’s a tough opponent, definitely worthy of your respect in the ring and the time spent preparing for him, but not someone who should deflate you.

He might be Jack Bull but he certainly isn’t Danny Tenfold.”

Roman laughs at the last remark with a smile as he continues his next set as the scene fades away.

The question that was asked was why the big wigs should have cared about me at Scars and Stripes and I think the results show exactly why they should have. I predicted the fact that Jack Bull would over look me just like he did Danny Tenfold moons ago, just like he did Scorpion. I predicted that Roy Viper would be too busy being a conniving cunt that he’d get chucked over the top rope. It was plain and simple, I went in with a game plan. I stayed under the radar, I struck when the time was right and I was so close to winning. Scars and Stripes was my coming out party. There’s a new name in the hierarchy of The Asylum, there’s someone else in the discussion of who’s a threat to TITAN’s strap and its Roman fucking Cripate.

Brandon Young, it’s really too bad that you have to face me this week. Your performance at Scars and Stripes was truly impressive. You should’ve been allowed to build momentum off of it, you should’ve been allowed to put on a show and get everyone in your corner. Instead you must have pissed into Mark Rivera’s cheerios’ because you got thrown into a ring with a buzz saw. I’m not going to pull any punches on Sunday, I’m not going to give you a chance because I feel you deserve better. Instead I’m going right through you like a hot knife in butter.

Sure you probably know all about me now. You’re not going to be ignorant to the fact that I am what I say I am and that is the best wrestler in The Asylum. You’re going to come into this match prepared for me like no one in The Asylum has before. My past successes are no longer indicative of what is to come because you don’t see me in the same way you would have before. You’re not going to approach a match against me as a walk in the park, instead you’re going to train like you never have before in order to stand a chance against me and I welcome that. It’s still not going to be enough though.

And at the end of the day I’m going to revel in that. Simply put you’re everything that I’ve tried to turn my back on. You’re an arrogant little twat, boisterous in your proclamations and at the end of the day you still haven’t accomplished shit. I don’t care what you’ve done in the past, I don’t care that you and Nat-Bizzle do the nasty on her big green tractor, I don’t care if every time you step into the ring you violate the laws of gravity. You’re nothing yet and in my opinion you’ll never be anything.

At the end of the day the two of us, we’ll fit success to a ‘tee’. You’re going to be Lindsay Lohan, coked out and a laughing stock after you’re five minutes of fame are finished while I’m atop the world, looking down from my throne. Some people are pre-disposed to constant success, some people are given an opportunity and let it flounder away. Some people simply can’t handle success and implode. It’s just the way things are, it’s one of those life lessons you never thought you’d have to worry about but guess what Brandon, schools back in session.

You present an obstacle to my success Brandon, and I’m not going to take that lightly. I’m going to give you everything I’ve got come Sunday and it’s going to be enough to set you down. It’s going to be enough to set everyone else who stands in my path until I get another shot at Brett Cross, and then he’ll fall, and then it’s on too Titan and eventually the World Heavyweight Championship. It’s kind of funny because this entire scene reminds me the Wizard of Oz. My yellow brick road is laid out before me, my path is set and what’s blocking my path back to Kansas, a fucking flying monkey.

Climbing the steps up to the top of the ramp, but still in the back Roman Cripate takes a deep breath. Primed and ready, the nerves firing on all cylinders. Instead of being destructive however, reducing him to a blithering mess, they empower him. From nothing, from the ashes he has begun once more to rise towards the top. Bouncing back and forth, Roman hits the curtains with yet unseen enthusiasm from him as ‘Afterlife’ by Avenged Sevenfold hits the loudspeaker and the Muscovites rise to their feet.