Bait and Switch

If only there was someone he trusted, who he could talk to about this madness. A person who not only understood what he was feeling but had come out on top. He could only think of one person: Crash Jackson. He could have been a friend. It was funny how two people’s trajectories could be so different and yet, so similar, not just in wrestling, but perhaps even, sometimes, in life. Bryan had helped Crash. He had seen the depths of his despair with Violent Purple. How his heart had broken and his anger had surged. He wouldn't dare tell anyone, but Bryan wished that Crash was here now.

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For weeks, she was missing, and the opportunity to find her was impossible. It was a pipe dream, the likes of which Bryan had no means to fulfill.

Funny how one sentence from Ivan Stanislav can change things. Funny how he wielded so much power within his own sphere. It was subtle, but something was weighing on Stanislav. Something he dared not show anyone else. Did it have something to do with the change in heart?

"You leave tomorrow for Kai."

That was all it took.

Next thing he knew, he was on a plane back to Japan, where he met with the Special Forces team assigned to carry out the day’s events. Their leader, an absolute unit of a man named Dmitry, met Dawkins at the hangar. He towered over Bryan, having a good five inches and forty pounds on the Hawaiian.

Following a cold, firm handshake, Dmitry offered a quick debrief. “Helicopter in. Thirty minutes on ground. Acquire target. Back to helicopter and return. No funny business. In and out.” Bryan nodded, knowing he was just along for the ride. No input was expected (or wanted) from him.

A black duffel bag appeared at Bryan’s feet. “Suit up.” Just like that, Dmitry was gone.

A short time later, Bryan emerged sporting a full suit of blacked out fatigues and combat boots. A far cry from his usual apparel, for sure.

Dmitry tossed supplies into the helicopter and barked “Go time! Five minutes!” The team around Dawkins went into overdrive, almost like the universe hit the fast forward button. Agents swarmed around the hangar loading supplies, checking the helicopter and preparing for the night’s events.

It felt like it took Bryan an hour to move the twenty feet toward the chopper. To be honest, he had no idea what he was even doing there. But he did know why he was there.

For her.

As he buckled himself into the seat, he took one last look at the hangar before clamping his eyes shut and focusing on his own breath.

He wouldn’t open them again until touchdown.

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About halfway through his excursion, Nico lost track of whether he was in a museum dedicated to the Soviet Union’s favorite son or simply Ivan Stanislav’s personal office. The room smelled of fresh pine and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found in the office. Much like everything else in the retreat, it was immaculate. Not a blade of grass was longer than the others - everything was absolutely picture perfect.

The boy’s eyes widened as he took in the walls filled to the brim with superlatives and dedications to the Russian Bear’s decades of dominance both inside and out of the squared circle. Military commendations, articles detailing his dominance in both PCW and OSW, even the stray human interest piece about Ivan Stanislav the man were plentiful.

There were more recent items, too…like the Russian news article detailing Ivan’s dominance in the Manhunt match. It was front page news for whatever paper this was - Nico couldn’t read it even if he tried - but there, smack dab it the middle of the front page was the photo of Ivan “pinning” Dawkins. Nico fought the urge to tear the article from the wall but ultimately lost to his inhibitions.

Reaching up, he yanked the framed article from the wall, fully intent on turning it into a pile of wood and shattered glass.

“You should not be here.” He recognized her voice, which sent a shiver down his spine and covered his skin with goosebumps.

‘At least it’s not Alexei,’ he thought before turning to face Arina, whose normally kind face was contorted into a disappointed frown. “I take this.” She held out her hands with the hope that the article would end up there instead of in a million pieces on the floor.

He bristled. “Why should I? This is all bullshit, don’t you know?!”

Typical teenager. Blowing things out of proportion.

“You have seen Starshy Praporshchik angry, Nico. I not think I need to say more.” Without much hesitation, he relented and gave up the frame.

“The door was hanging wide open. I didn’t see any ‘DO NOT ENTER’ signs or anything. What’s the big deal?”

The big deal is if Ivan would have caught him snooping around his office, Red Bear Retreat would have had its first documented casualty. But Arina knew she couldn’t tell him that. Instead, she smiled. It was time for damage control.

“Follow me.”

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The sound of footsteps up ahead served as his guide through the darkness. The overcast sky eliminated the chance of the moon providing any light to aid the mission and served as cover as the group creeped through the alley.

Bryan followed the train of agents ahead of him and briefly glanced back to ensure the rest of the group followed. This was supposed to be a quick thing - in and out and back in the helicopter before anyone knew they had been there. It felt like they had been on the ground for hours; in reality, it had only been about ten minutes.

The group moved swiftly, their combat boots barely making a sound with each step.

They rounded the corner and approached a manicured traditional Japanese home with an unfortunately well-lit exterior. Dmitry communicated with the rest of the team via hand signals, prompting half the team to scatter to other locations.

It was organized chaos - there were agents scaling the neighboring buildings, others assigned to ground cover, with the rest of the team huddled around Bryan awaiting the next command from their leader. It felt like Bryan was in the middle of a Mission Impossible movie.

Bryan’s earpiece crackled as it came to life with the sound of another agent’s voice. He spoke calmly in Russian, but the tone told another story. The communication came from one of the teams on the rooftop. Their surveillance was done using the scopes attached to their sniper rifles.

At the head of Bryan’s pack, Dmitry quietly responded but yet again, Bryan couldn’t understand the words but was very fluent with the tone. They’re coming up empty. Bryan’s heart sank.

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Ivan Stanislav’s assistant took several moments to tidy up the office. She moved with practiced efficiency, knowing where everything was meant to be and in what state. She even went out of her way to adjust a small Soviet flag that had been crinkled slightly in the move to Red Bear Retreat and smiled at her handiwork.

She looked around the room once more and nodded to herself, and then smiled at Nico. “There. Now. We go.”

The crisp Minnesota air greeted them in its chilly, awakening embrace. Somehow, it seemed the sky was bluer in America than in Russia, and a golden glow danced along the landscape, reflecting dewdrops in a kaleidoscope pattern. Timofeyevna’s boots squelched in the grass as she stepped off the gravel walkway and looked over her shoulder. “Come. We walk off-road.”

The boy who spent the first seventeen years of his life living in the Pacific Northwest was not prepared for springtime in the wilds of Minnesota. His hoodie didn’t do much to combat the chill and his sneakers were designed for basketball courts, not hiking. He opted to not respond.

It was an illusion. As free and open as the air was, occasionally, Nico could see the odd guard or sentry meandering about the grounds. They were in the distance, far enough to not impose, but present enough to be known. Arina didn’t seem to mind or notice them, and as she glanced over her shoulder once more, she jerked her head to compel Nico to walk next to her.

“How you doing?” she asked softly and looked him in the eyes.

“How do you think I’m doing?” He avoided eye contact like all seasoned teenagers do. Some say it’s this generation, but others know that teens have been experts at this for centuries.

His words stung but Arina didn’t show their impact, at least not externally. She kept her face forward as she walked and tightened her jaw. She deserved that. Her voice, however, was firm.

“There were many times I wish someone would take time to ask me how I was doing, especially when I was hurting…” she said softly, but there was a tinge of… frustration?

The teen pondered that for a minute. “Yeah, but I get the feeling that nobody actually wants to hear how we’re doing. So most people don’t even ask anymore.”

Oof. Heavy words. Then again, if there was a word to describe what had happened in the boy’s life over the past four months, ‘heavy’ was a pretty good one.

She stopped, suddenly, to the point where Nico almost walked past her, and she grabbed his arm tightly and spun him around. He was tall, and able to easily look her in the eyes. They were intense, honest, and perhaps slightly vulnerable.

“I do.”

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It’s funny how someone who has no problem going out and competing in front of tens of thousands of people on a regular occasion can find themselves paralyzed by a situation like this. The longer they sat there, the more Bryan was convinced he made the right decision in never considering a career in the military. The silence was deafening, although Bryan was distracted by the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his head.

Another check in, this time from the team on the other rooftop. This one was short and to the point.

“Nyet.”

The gravity of the moment hit him like a freight train. There he was, in combat fatigues somewhere in Japan with a Russian Special Forces team, mere minutes away from hopefully rescuing and reuniting with Kai.

The heartbeats only continued to get louder.

Surely they’ve messed up.

His heart was pumping jet fuel through his body.

She’s got to be there - Ivan’s intel said so!

The moment suddenly felt way too big. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“You’ve gotta keep checking! She’s gotta be in ther–”

Bryan didn’t get a chance to finish his plea.

Instead, the wind was stolen from his lungs thanks to Dmitry. As the much larger Russian held him against the exterior of the house they were using as cover, Bryan wheezed.

“QUIET.”

This wasn’t a request. Rather, a demand.

All Bryan could do was nod his head as he silently fought to refill his lungs with air. Dmitry responded in kind with a look that could have killed, and for a brief second, Bryan thought he might do just that.

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The next few moments of the walk were filled to the brim with silence. In another lifetime, walking in nature with a beautiful girl a few years his senior would have been the thing of dreams.

Too bad the last few months had been an absolute nightmare. Young love was the last thing on his mind.

They crested a small hill to reveal a small lake. A few groups of ducks dotted the surface of the smooth water, which reflected the sky like a mirror. There was nothing else around for miles. Just nature.

“I’m okay, I guess.” He nearly died with embarrassment as his voice cracked with the final word.

She allowed the silence to envelope them again while they skirted around the lake, to a section that would grant the ducks their peace. She pursed her lips and looked down at the mix of mud and stones, and produced a flat rock.

“Ever skip stone?” she asked as she lifted the stone for him to see.

That teenage urge to flaunt in front of the fairer sex took over. He picked up one of his own and slung it, side-arm style, across the surface of the lake. He cracked a grin that mimicked his father’s. The same grin that used to make female PRIME fans swoon.

She smirked back at him and side-armed her own rock. It plopped straight into the water, never to be seen again. “That not how it work in Russia…” She blinked to herself and pushed out her lips as an awkward silence surrounded her. Then, she laughed, and Nico laughed with her.

It was nice to see the youth smile, and understandable that he had little reason to do so. She motioned toward a stump that rose from the earth, and patted it. “Come, sit.” She said.

The teen had been lied and misled for months, by those he trusted, and those he wanted to trust. He deserved to look her in the eyes, despite her shame, and she afforded him that respect.

“I am sorry,” she said, “Yes, I knew about mother Kai. I cannot say or do anything to make you trust me again.” She looked out at the lake and sighed. “Your Papa has done everything he can to get her back and it is not his fault.”

There was no hesitation. “If he never dragged us to Australia with him, he wouldn’t have to…”

“Do you think he is not suffering, Nico?” Arina’s voice was pointed, it had a certain slavic edge to it. “Do you think he not cry every night wishing things be different? I know it is hard to see who fights for good, but believe me, your Papa and Ivan, they are trying.”

He fought like hell to hold back the tears. He’d already embarrassed himself once in front of her, he wasn’t trying to do that again.

A single tear ran down his cheek, signaling he’d lost that battle. He choked down the emotion but couldn’t find the words. She mistook his tightened jaw and frustrated expression for anger, and nodded. “I will go.”

But as she rose, the youth shifted his weight and pulled a familiar object from his hoodie pocket: Arina’s Russian nesting dolls. She froze and stared at them, realizing he hadn’t thrown them away, or destroyed them, or defiled them. He had kept them and, after a moment, she settled back down on the stump next to him.

His frustration caused him to buckle, and she wrapped her arm around him and allowed him to lean against her. Together, they stared at the lake, and wondered what the future would bring. 

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Bryan was still fighting to inflate his lungs after the swift assault at the hands of Dmitry when he heard the update. It sounded much more positive than the first couple. Not only did the inflection in the voices differ, but also the entire team sprung to action after Dmitry’s response.

The rooftop teams held to their posts, but the ground teams swarmed the target house like ants to a melting popsicle in the summer sun. One of the ground teams tossed a grappling hook to the second floor window ledge and anchored it to a sturdy tree below. One of the smaller members of the team scaled the rope and attached a rope ladder to the ledge.

Bryan fought the urge to sprint up the aforementioned ladder - the daggers thrown from Dmitry’s eyes reaffirmed his decision. Other agents were assigned to each of the entrances to the home, firearms ready to discharge at a moment’s notice. It felt to Bryan as if they’ve already done this mission before - the truth is, they had. This was old news to them.

Just another Tuesday.

This was anything but that for Bryan.

More Russian chatter echoed through the earpiece in hushed tones until Dmitry’s voice rang loud and clear.

“Target found.”

Bryan was awash with relief as he realized this was the end. This was where he would find Kai and move on from this.

“I need to go in,” he whispered. He knew the response before it escaped Dmitry’s lips.

“No. You stay on ground. We bring her to you. You identify.”

Dmitry was right. Who knows what the hell they were walking into? Bryan Dawkins was a lot of things but experienced in military combat was not one of them. Jiu Jitsu may have helped in hand to hand, but wouldn’t do much against a firearm or other weaponry.

He watched as the agent pried the window open and slipped inside without a sound.

Bryan watched intently, looking for the slightest indication that Kai had been found. When Dmitry’s voice entered his earpiece, his stomach dropped.

“Get up there.” He gestured toward the ladder that he was previously forbidden from ascending. Without so much as a thought, he strode to the ladder and scaled the side of the wall.

He wasn’t prepared for what was on the other side of the window.

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“What the…?”

Bryan saw many things in that room.

An Asian man, jacked to the gills and wearing a skin-tight black silk kimono, was backed into the corner of the room. He clung desperately to a body pillow as he stared down the barrel of one of the agent’s guns.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man trembled as he spoke. “You…you know who I am.”

As Dawkins scanned his memory bank, he cocked his head as he stared at the body pillow. This wasn’t just any body pillow, but one shaped like a waifu. With a disgusting red toupee stapled to its…head?

Bryan tried to place his face. Was it from his time in Bang!? This guy had the size for it…but no, that wasn’t it. He just couldn’t figure it. Honestly, it didn’t matter.

“Where is Kai?”

One of the agents stepped closer to the cornered man. He gripped the body pillow even tighter.

Another agent spoke up. “Comrade Dawkins. You should see…”

His blood pressure skyrocketed as he turned to the agent only to see a crimson red suit staring back at him.

Yes, that crimson red suit. The one attached to the one and only Maximillian Wilhelm Kael…

…well, a cardboard cutout of him.

Attached to his lapel was a button with a crudely written post it marked “PUSH ME”. Dawkins approached the cutout and didn’t think twice before slamming the button…causing a handful of the agents to hit the deck in anticipation of an explosion.

This allowed the musclebound man to swiftly exit the scene without issue. A familiar voice projected from somewhere behind the cardboard.

“You gotta be quicker than that…heh-heh.”

WHAM

Dawkins’ fist knocked cardboard Max’s head clean off his shoulders before he tore through the home. He left no stone unturned from the kitchen to the bathrooms and bedroom. We won’t talk about the…alarming…things he found there, but they had nothing to do with Kai and were of no importance.

He never found the man and more importantly, never found Kai.

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The helicopter ride back to the hangar should have been routine…that is, until the team rounded the last corner before arriving to the chopper to find the kimono man yielding dual samurai swords. He caught the first two agents by surprise, taking the first’s head clean off his shoulders with a single swing. The second agent was slightly more lucky, instead losing only his right arm to a flick of the blade.

This caused complete chaos with the regime, sending them on a beeline for their getaway flight while some of the agents sent gunfire in the swordsman’s direction.

Bryan was in pure fight of flight mode, and flight was winning in dominating fashion. He dove into the body of the helicopter as the rest of the unscathed members of the team piled in. The pilot lifted them into the air as they sped away from the crime scene, leaving two of their own behind - one already dead and another well on their way there.

“The FUCK was that?”

Bryan didn’t have the answers. In fact, he left Japan with far more questions than answers.

But Crash was the reason for all of this happening.

He dragged Bryan into the struggle with Max, didn’t he?

Crash was the reason he met the Heralds and became entangled in this web of violence and chaos.

He wouldn’t have won the Alias Championship.

He wouldn’t have lost Kai.

As he sat in the helicopter and stared out the window at the darkness, with so little power in his life, Bryan realized he had control over one thing: ReVival 67.