Post by Alexei Rykov on Jun 27, 2014 12:47:20 GMT
Soviet Kitsch
The scene opens in a busy St. Louis café, the Astoria Russian Bistro on Olive Boulevard. Sitting at a quant table, slightly too small for his frame, is ‘The Soviet Soldier’, Alexei Rykov. Dressed in a tight red t-shirt, emblazoned with the Soviet hammer and sickle and grey sweat pants, he leans forward on his seat, devouring his meal. With a large spoon, though still dwarfed by his large hands, Alexei scoops up the soup, vegetable and noodle dish and swallows the large portion, seemingly without savouring. Within a short few minutes, the bowl was drained with a frightening efficiency. A waitress strolls by the table, noticing the exhausted bowl and Alexei’s vacant expression. She turns and smiles while motioning to pick up the used dish and cutlery. Her smile exposes mostly impeccably shaped, white teeth, save for the canine tooth on the right of her top gum which is rather undersized. This adds a charm to her face, rather than an imperfection. Her eyes smiled also, large, doe-eyes with shades of brown and green swirled around her dark pupils. The dimples in her cheeks, and natural blonde hair completed her image of unquestionable beauty.
The scene opens in a busy St. Louis café, the Astoria Russian Bistro on Olive Boulevard. Sitting at a quant table, slightly too small for his frame, is ‘The Soviet Soldier’, Alexei Rykov. Dressed in a tight red t-shirt, emblazoned with the Soviet hammer and sickle and grey sweat pants, he leans forward on his seat, devouring his meal. With a large spoon, though still dwarfed by his large hands, Alexei scoops up the soup, vegetable and noodle dish and swallows the large portion, seemingly without savouring. Within a short few minutes, the bowl was drained with a frightening efficiency. A waitress strolls by the table, noticing the exhausted bowl and Alexei’s vacant expression. She turns and smiles while motioning to pick up the used dish and cutlery. Her smile exposes mostly impeccably shaped, white teeth, save for the canine tooth on the right of her top gum which is rather undersized. This adds a charm to her face, rather than an imperfection. Her eyes smiled also, large, doe-eyes with shades of brown and green swirled around her dark pupils. The dimples in her cheeks, and natural blonde hair completed her image of unquestionable beauty.
“I’ll get these out of your way sir. It is great to see a strong man such as yourself representing our homeland… Is there anything else I can get you? My name is Lucia. I saw you on the television Saturday night, you are… So strong.”
An obvious Russian twang can be heard in her words. Lucia leans down and touches Alexei on the shoulder, he is unflinching. In doing so, the cleavage inside her buttoned down blouse becomes visible. Her curvy figure catches her uniform skirt as she bends, causing it to tighten. She moves her dainty fingers down his arm in a flirtatious manner, towards his hand. In a swift movement, Alexei grabs her wrist and lifts it above the table, his expression remaining the same but his stare shifting to her now confused face. Lucia is startled by the gesture, she lets out an inaudible ‘eep’ and becomes flustered.
“I will have coffee, woman. Two, I am expecting someone. And you will not touch me again.”
He releases the waitress’ arm from his grasp, leaving redness. The golden complexion of her skin whitens to a haunted pale colour. Her previously innocently attractive eyes sink back and darken in her fright.
“Right away, sir. I meant no harm.”
The girl whips up the dishes and scurries off into the kitchen, clearly taken aback by Alexei’s cold demeanor. A man, balding, short, with an inflated gut reemerges with the coffee. he lays them on the table in a respectful manner, careful not to attract Alexei’s attention. He scampers off before Alexei begins to display agitation, though at his watch rather than the man. He repeatedly checks it while sipping at his coffee. His issue with the time serves to upset his cool facial expression, leading to angry lines appearing around his steely eyes. He finally looks somewhat relieved when the bell over the door twinkles, as the entrance opens. An impish man walks through, donning a handlebar moustache, combover greying hair and a ragged looking suit hugging his sleight build. Alexei rises to his feet as the man approaches him, they then share a firm, business-like handshake. Alexei retakes his seat, while the man positions himself across from him. He slurps at the now cold coffee, some of it catching in the wire of his facial hair.
“It’s about time you showed up. Usually it doesn’t end well when people keep Alexei Rykov waiting. You caught me in a good mood.”
“This is you in a good mood? I can’t wait to see you in a bad mood! Hah.”
“Please, no jokes. I come for interview, you do interview. You got it?”
The man is stunned by the seriousness in Alexei’s tone and readjusts his posture to a more attentive position.
“Uh, of course Mr. Rykov. Sorry I was late, it’s just hard to get all the way across town to this place. Why did you pick this joint anyway? It’s a dump.”
“It serves the only decent Gulash in this mess of a city. Still, these insults are not interview, and my good mood is fading.”
“Sorry, sorry Mr. Rykov! I know your time is valuable, I am sorry for wasting it. Let’s start, shall we?”
The man reaches into his suit pocket and produces a journeyed tape recorder, laying it on the table and pressing the red record button.
“Hello Missouri! This is Larry Stinson for Mizzou Talk Radio’s ‘Sport City’. This week we’ll be focussing on the revival of independent professional wrestling in St. Louis, in anticipation of WrestleFest III taking place this weekend in this very city. My guest today is an emerging force in Missouri Wrestling Experience, ‘The Soviet Soldier’ Alexei Rykov! Why don’t you say howdy to the people Alexei?”
“Pfft, I am not here to greet the capitalist Americans, I am here to talk about my motherland and my work.”
“Some of our listeners might find that kinda talk insulting Mr. Rykov, what do you hope to achieve by speaking in this manner?”
“I hope that the fat, dumb, commercially driven liberals will come to their senses and see that the old ways of the Soviet Union is the only way to make sense in this world. If my message do not convince them, maybe my might will.”
“Your might… You are obviously referring to you in-ring work, right?”
“Most of the time.”
“That’s ominous. We’ll stick with what happens in the ring, though. You have two very big matches coming up, right?”
“This is correct. I will compete for the UWL Missouri Heavyweight title on Saturday, then at WrestleFest III on Sunday.”
“Let’s talk about the first match.”
“Tiger Town Massacre. And it will be a massacre. At least for Xavier Serikas and Kyle Lyons. I showed on Throwback that I am the most dominant force in MWE. I displayed the raw power of the Soviet Union when I laid them both out. I displayed the anger of the Soviet Union when I executed the Hammer and Sickle. And I displayed the pride of the Soviet Union when I raised the belt above my head, just like I will on Saturday.”
“So assuming you’re fit enough to compete on Sunday, you will walk into another match as the UWL Missouri Heavyweight champion, or so you say. Tell me about that one?”
“At WrestleFest III I will take on a scourge even worse than the filthy Americans. A worthless Mexican. Defecto, calls himself a glitch, is a man who hides his face to mask the coward under it. He sneaks around, spraying mist, using his lapdogs to do his bidding and stealing victories in countless companies. He’s met his match in Alexei Rykov. A man with my raw, intense power will have no problem destroying this deluded border jumper.”
“Strong words, indeed. Now tell me, if you are the champion going into WrestleFest, are you willing to put it on the line against Defecto?”
“I thought I said no jokes. I am fighting champion. I will defend when I am told. If I’m told to defend at WrestleFest, it ends the same way. With Defecto destroyed.”
“Is that a yes then?”
“If Mr. Kennedy throws his dog this bone, then yes. But don’t expect a new champion at WrestleFest, Alexei Rykov does not lose.”
“Interesting, interesting. Well, thank you for your time Alexei. Do you have any signing off message?”
“I have one more thing to say Larry. I want to let you all know that now that the ‘Soviet Soldier’ is here, America and your ‘freedom’ is coming to an end. You will see just how strong I am.”
With that, Larry clicks the red record button on the device.
