Forgotten Memories

[Atlas Adams]

Helsinki, Finland
Overdrive Locker room
Present day

Standing underneath a scalding hot shower head, the water pelting his freshly bruised body, Atlas Adams sighed. He greatly appreciated the relief the water gave to his body, but at the same time, he had forgotten how painful getting tossed around the ring could be.

Although he was victorious in tonight’s match, he felt rusty and it showed. Granted, the match wasn’t very long; only about 10 minutes but after Atlas hit fall from grace, the adrenaline slowed down. He felt every punch to the head. Every well placed kick to the ribs. It wasn’t his worst beating, not by a long shot.

Mad Mumf was clearly off his game, but as Atlas scrubbed his head with soap, he wasn’t quite prepared for this again.

After an hour, Atlas mercifully cut the water off and stepped out of the shower stall. All the training in the world cannot prepare you for an opponent trying to kill you in that ring. Sparring can only go so far and considering Atlas trained alone, he should have known what to expect.

He didn’t.

Shaking his head as he toweled off, Atlas thought of what his Dad must think if he was still alive. He looked up at the cracked mirror behind him and tried to grin. He doubled over, coughing holding his stomach to look up again.

“I look and feel like shit… Get your head in the game, Atlas.”

He had dedicated his life to three things, one he chose to leave, the second he was forced to leave. He had to be better prepared and he would be.

Walking over to his bag, he picked up a piece of paper next to it and scanned it. A dark shadow came over his face.

“Overdrive is heading to Moscow next week… Just what I need, another reminder of the past,” Atlas muttered softly. He picked up the paper and went to stuff it in his bag.

As he did so, Atlas cursed and took his hand out of the bag. It was filled with shaving cream up to his wrist. His blue eyes widened as he discovered that the shaving cream covered all his clothes inside the bag.

After a second, Atlas couldn’t help but smile. This was typical hazing. The new guy comes in and the veterans of the promotion, usually one of the top dogs comes in and does something to the new guy’s gear, or travel bag. Whatever they can find that belongs to the new guy.

Atlas remembered this one time when someone super glued a guy’s wrestling boots together.

In fact, it was Atlas who did it.

Luckily for Atlas, he was prepared for this. He shrugged, put his sweaty wrestling gear back on that was untouched thankfully and headed to his rental car. He had an extra change of clothes in the car. He’d throw away the bag. It had no sentimental value. His passport, wallet and photo of his daughter were in the car.

He nodded to the janitor as he left the arena and soon Finland behind. Fifteen minutes later, he was headed to the airport; headed to Moscow and remembered a different kind of hazing, a different life ago.

***
Somewhere in Virginia
An I.S.A compound; classified
Eight years ago

Atlas hit the ground hard. His face dug into the mud. A man stood over him, His boot on the back of Atlas skull.

“You have enough, Adams? Just say the word and we’ll get you a nice desk job at Langley!” The man laughed heartily; he found humor in the strangest situations.

Trying not to breath in the mud, Atlas felt humiliated, but he refused to show any weakness. If he did, he would be like all the others who came here with him, never to be seen again. He had come this far. Failure was not an option.

“Well, Adams? What is it going to be?” Atlas’ superior asked calmly while easing his boot off of Atlas skull.

Feeling the pressure subside, Atlas gritted his teeth. He knew what he had to do. A simple nod either way would have just continued his torture. The daily lashings would continue. The disorienting darkness in a box would be prolonged. No, this had to end. He had to prove himself to his superior and thus prove himself worthy of the job.

Or die trying.

Turning his head to the right, Atlas spotted the man’s boot and took some mud into his mouth. With no warning like an angry pit bull attack, Atlas spun in the mud, picked his superior’s ankle, spit the mud up into the older man’s face and punched him in the nuts.

The man above did as expected any man would; He groaned and grabbed for his manhood. That gave Atlas the chance he needed.

He shifted his weight and elevated the man’s ankle and let physics take its natural course. The man fell backwards into the mud with a thud.

Atlas pounced.

Mounting his superior much like a ground and pound style, Atlas rained down his elbows. However, the older man, seasoned from combat knew what to do. He grabbed a handful of mud and threw it towards Atlas’ eyes.

“Ugrhh,” Atlas grunted, but instead of pawing at his face, he turned off of his superior. Thinking he had the upper hand, the older man decided to get up with Atlas writhing on the ground.

That was a mistake.

With his back turned, the older man didn’t see Atlas stand behind him, calmly. Suddenly, Atlas was on the man’s back, his thick arms wrapped around the man’s neck. Fruitlessly, the older man fell to the ground, clawing at Atlas’ eyes.

When that failed and Atlas could sense his opponent’s oxygen was getting low, he snarled into the man’s ear.

“This is over. I won. No more torture. I passed.”

A few more seconds went by, then special ops solider from the gulf war, by the name of Tim Stonewell nodded against Atlas shoulder, utterly defeated.

Atlas released his superior and stood. He waited for a minute until Tim caught his breath and extended his hand.

“Thank you, sir. You trained me well,” Atlas grinned as the weary man below took his hand.

****
Moscow, Russia
A bar
Two days until Overdrive

Atlas Adams hated Russia. For a multitude of reasons, one of them being that it is freezing most of the time. The chill in the air was nothing compared to the chill in Atlas’ heart when he walked around the city.

He had been here before, for professional reasons in another life. Now, he was back again and it felt like the nightmare in his head would never end.

Atlas shrugged in his bomber jacket as he stepped inside the Russian pub. He didn’t care to know the name. He didn’t plan on being back. Like last time, he was in this dreary, cold city on business. Only this time, it was APW business.

The president of APW, simply known as Jeff wanted Atlas to do an interview for the upcoming show. He said a news station in Russia personally requested him.

Normally, Atlas would be glad to help, albeit uncomfortable the whole time. Atlas didn’t like talking to the wrestling press or even worse, press that didn’t give a shit about wrestling, but covered it when it was in town.

This however was different; he was in Russia, a place he shuddered to think about and not only that, he was requested for an interview by a news station? That was highly unusual. Especially considering that he had been off the wrestling scene for over a year until last week’s return.

It made his spine tingle, something wasn’t right here.

Nonetheless, Atlas had to do his job. He wasn’t here to kill anyone and he shouldn’t look at everything as a potential threat. He was out of that type of business for good.

Even still, Atlas checked for exits in the smoke filled establishment, making himself aware of his surroundings. While he was looking over the crowd, a feminine perfume filled his nostrils.

Atlas turned around and found his blue eyes staring back at a gorgeous, young woman. Dark, black hair pulled into a bun, her pale, grey blue eyes highlighting her figure in the light. Atlas let his gaze fall to see her wearing a v-neck, cream blouse, a dark, knee high skirt and accompanied with short heels.

She was stunning and the confidence she exuded as she extended her hand told Atlas that she knew it and loved the attention his eyes and every guy in the pub were giving her.

“Well, hello Mr. Adams. Or do you perhaps prefer Atlas?” Asked the Russian woman, in perfect English; albeit with a heavy accent, tilting her head slightly as she waited for a response.

Atlas was not affected by many women. Eva, his ex-wife was the only one that left him speechless the first time they met.

That is until now. Atlas gathered his thoughts and shook the woman’s hand with a cautious smile. “You must be the reporter. I wasn’t expecting someone so…” His words failing him at that very moment, he just shrugged at the woman, helpless.

The woman smiles seductively, clearly enjoying Atlas’ struggle. “So… Hot as you Americans would say, Mr. Adams?” She laughed softly as Atlas turned red, hooking her arm through his. “Let’s find a table where we can converse privately, Mr. Adams.”

They found a booth for four at the end of the bar. Composed once again, Atlas made sure he faced the exit. Guiding the attractive woman to the opposite side, he helped remove her coat for her and slid into the booth.

She smiled at him warmly, “such the gentlemen, Mr. Adams. My parents would be impressed.”

“You don’t need to call me Mr. Adams. Atlas will be fine.” He replied coldly, trying to shake off the attraction he had for her. “Before we start, I’d like to know your name.” He finished as she eyed the menu.

She held up her hand as to shush Atlas and suddenly the waiter appeared. The attractive women ordered a Russian beer and Atlas chose a glass of whiskey. It was silent the whole time they waited. Both staring at each other intently, like sizing each other up for battle.

Once the drinks arrived, Atlas repeated his question. “What is your name and what do you want with me?”

The Russian beauty took a sip of her beer and reached and touched his hand. “You don’t need to know my name, dear. I know yours and really, I’m a harmless reporter. I won’t bite, I promise.”

She smiled back at Atlas that told him she would bite if he asked her again. He decided to drop it.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t really care for news reporters poking in my business. So please ask APW related questions and this will go smoothly.”

Atlas pulled his hand away like it was on fire.

The young lady scoffed, taking a long swig of beer, she smiled once again, all business. “Okay fine, if that’s how you want it.”

“I do,” replied Atlas curtly.

A series of APW questions followed, rapid fire and Atlas answered them the best he could or would to appease the reporter.

“Why did you decide to join APW?”

“Well, I was at a point in my life where I had to make a real go at this wrestling thing. APW seemed like the best fit. Its worked out so far.”

“What are your goals in APW?”

“To be the best there is in APW. If you’re not out to be the best, why bother being in this sport?”

“Who in your opinion is the best in APW? Are you gunning for their spot?”

“Well, I think it’s obvious that would be T-Marv. He’s been world champion for over a year. Then there is Level one, the current top dog of Overdrive. I’m on that brand and yes, I’m gunning for his spot, but I will earn it.”

“Why do you have this respect for all your competitors, when from what I’ve seen, they don’t show you that same respect. Like Felipe Delorean and Johnny Rebel from last week’s Overdrive.”

“It’s simple. I was taught that respecting your opponent, even those who don’t deserve it demonstrates that they can’t get to you on an emotional level. Delorean and Rebel wanted me to join their ill-fated cause and when I refused, they lashed out in anger like I knew they would.”

“But doesn’t that show to other wrestlers that you will take anything and not care?”
“No. I’m like a hibernating bear. When I go to the ring, I wake up an angry bear. Point is if the other guys in the locker room leave me alone, don’t poke the bear, they’ll be fine.”

“Have Delorean and Rebel poked the bear?”

“No comment.”

“Okay, so what about your next opponent, Leon ‘The virus’ Roberts?”

“I saw his match in Sweden. It disgusted me. He’s on my hit list and his name will be crossed out this Thursday. I can’t give away too much of my game plan you know?”

“I understand, now Atlas, one final question. Have you ever been to Russia?”

Atlas’ relaxed face suddenly contorted, he reached over and pressed stop on the recorder.

“No further questions,” Atlas whispered, quietly.

The young lady at first looked startled at the sudden change of tone, she glanced down her recorder for a moment, but when returned her gaze up at Atlas, all he saw was ice in her eyes.

“When was the last time you were in Moscow specifically, Atlas Adams?” Asked the Russian woman, a touch of curiosity mixed with venom.

“This interview is over.” Was all Atlas could say. He couldn’t say the truth and even if he wanted to, the look in this woman’s eyes told him he had to get out of there, now.

The woman stood, blocking Atlas’ path “Hey, you wanted my name didn’t you? I would like to tell you my name now.” She grabbed her jacket off the booth and came close to Atlas’ ear. “My name is Alex, but you can refer to me as Alexandria Petrov, daughter of General Mikhail Petrov.”

With that, she winked and walked briskly towards the exit. The recorder gone, Atlas slumped down in the booth, confused and then horrified that he remembered the name of Mikhail Petrov

The first man he ever killed for the I.S.A. The true reason he hated coming to Russia.

***
Moscow, Russia
Seven Years ago

The security guard for General Petrov didn’t know he would be dead in two minutes. He didn’t even think about the possibility; after all, his boss was partaking in a massage. There was no likely danger at a place filled with women. The security guard was of course a fool, as he was shocked to feel the hot burn of lead fill his body. Too late to do anything but die.

Atlas watched the fat security guard fall to the floor. In this secluded area of the massage spa, No one would have heard the muted bullet discharge. Even still, Atlas cautiously looked behind him before closing in on the door that was now washed in the security guard’s blood. Easing the guard away from the door, Atlas turned the knob and peered in.

What he saw didn’t shock Atlas. A pretty, petite Asian woman was sitting on top of an old, grey haired man. The girl was dutifully moaning for the man who clearly was exerting a lot of energy to keep going.

Atlas decided to put the man out of his misery.

He stepped forward, extended the Beretta and over the young woman’s shoulder, fired a bullet into the General’s brain.

Naturally, as the man underneath went limp, the Asian woman screamed.

That was bad for Atlas.

Even worse was when she turned to see Atlas’ emotionless face, he hadn’t been able to run away just yet. The shock of his first kill still fresh, he did what he had to in that moment.

Later, on the flight home, all Atlas could see was that woman’s face before she died at his hand.

***

“As I live and breathe, I have one thought going on in my head. A virus to me is an infection that needs to be taken care of before it gets out of control. Kinda like when your dog gets rabies and they have to be put down before they hurt someone. That is what you are, Leon. You call yourself the virus but all I see is a guy that needs to be put down before he hurts someone. Again.”

“I say again because you hurt Mad Mumf in Sweden. It was clear your intention was to maim and destroy the guy’s career. Now, I’m not sticking up for Mad Mumf, he gave me a good fight last week, but he wasn’t one hundred percent.”

“Now, you might be wondering, ‘why isn’t this guy thanking me for the easy win?’ Well Leon, I would thank you if I wanted the easy win. I don’t. I want to know that I beat my opponent’s best because that means I was better than them on that night. I crave that feeling and you subdued that feeling.”

“So no, I’m not going to thank you. What I’m going to do is eradicate the virus. Get rid of your human condition that makes you the sick human being you are. You won’t be laughing or smirking when I hit you. There won’t be an opportunity for you to hurt me, I won’t give you one.”

“I will be totally focused on you and while you have my respect already as a competitor, if you choose to distract yourself and take your eye off of me, I will take that as you don’t respect me. For your sake, I hope that’s not the case. I assure you, if you show me respect, I will shake your hand and help you up after your fall from grace. The clock is ticking, welcome to my hit list, Leon Roberts. I hope you enjoy your short stay.”

“Adams out!"