A History Long Forgotten: Chapter 1

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“If only you knew how I spent my holidays.”

A chuckle. A laugh. A giggle. All of this to be followed by the contrary action, a frown. It wasn’t a frown of anger, sadness or discomfort, but a concoction of all three – unknowingness. For, what we don’t know, is what makes us most angry, sad and uncomfortable. What we don’t know does not hurt us, but does in fact haunt us. In the case of my beloved son Jameson, now aged four, there was a lot to haunt him. He doesn’t know much about his father’s existence, and I planned to keep it that way. You see, I knew all about my father’s existence, and that didn’t turn out well. I didn’t even have to look far, all I had to do was turn the corner from my house and see him sitting there, intoxicated as always.

My hands ran through my son’s coarse hair, grinding to a halt when I noticed an abrasion on the upper part of his forehead. Glancing up, and enjoying the view from my office, I muttered, “Do you get nervous frequently, my son?” No answer. 

You see, I haven’t necessarily been the hottest candidate for father of the decade. I’m a single parent who has made a fortune from doing three things: screwing people over (business work), wrestling, and pulling triggers. But through this, I have provided as much for my son as humanly possible. I have given him a house, a warm meal every night, and a great education. The one thing I have failed to give him, is my time, and for a child, that means most. Hopefully he is able to look back at this and his resentment will grow smaller.

However, it seems everything in my life is growing larger. Dathan Environmental Sciences Inc. has grown substantially. What started as a two man project, has finally blossomed into a multimillion dollar corporation which funds some of the most cutting edge science there is. Technology which has helped me in every aspect of my life, even helping prolong it past the point of normality. 

Leaping from my lap, Jameson, or “Jamie”, as I affectionately call him, sprints towards another destination. You may not know it by looking at me, but this is not my first child, nor will it be my last. I have had many children, all of which I have failed as a parent. I view Jamie as a chance to make up for that. Almost an act of redemption so to speak. I view Jamie as a path towards becoming a better man, both for myself, and for him. However, that boy has a mind of his own, making it a little bit harder for me to connect with him.

Rising myself, I saunter over to a cabinet where a bottle of red wine finds its way into my hands. In doing so, I pour myself a glass before returning to my desk, only to turn around and look out my window at the sky. “You know, Natasha, they say a glass of red wine once a day is the key to a healthy heart. I know you probably take that to heart, given your out of work activities, however, I’m sure you can appreciate a nice glass of wine.” Without turning around, I address my secretary, who I could sense in the doorway. 

Natasha Langley – where to begin? A young beautiful young woman, she is punctual, hard working and is a genius when it comes to history. For me, history is essential. For, without history, without written knowledge, we would continue to make the same mistakes, over, and over again. Natasha keeps records and tabs on just about everything for me, whether it’s the company’s numbers, or current events in the Middle East. Both are equally important to me. And Ms. Langley is the best in the business at that. The only two qualities

However, there is a block of history that she hasn’t begun to scratch surface of. That is, my history. This, of course, comes as very little shock, as there are only two men who know my full story. That is about to change.

“So when were you going to tell me about your unretirement? Huh? I would’ve gotten you a cake, saying: you’re crazy!” Slamming the card for Visionaries of Wrestling’s: Fate of the Gods onto my desk, Natasha leaned over as I swung around in my chair to face her. Honestly, I’m surprised it took her this long. “Why are you doing this? You have a son! A multi-million dollar company! That life’s behind you, why not live your life now, rather than living in the past?”

“Why does an antelope go to the watering hole? Why do men in Africa murder in cold blood for water? Because they’re thirsty. I’m thirsty, I have a desire – no – a need for chaos. The pro wrestling world is full of chaos. Chaos excites me, and I think, I just think, that I have enough left in me to do what I have to in order to run this wrestling world.” Sipping on the wine, I have a hankering for some sort of meat, it’s a shame I didn’t ask my secretary to bring some in. 

“Well, you may be in luck, because I guess your first match out is a comedian with no to very little prior knowledge.” Closing my eyes, I exhale upon hearing this. You would figure, that since VoW has one of the biggest stars, that they would put him against someone, you know, who has wrestling experience. “Well, either way, he courts a battle with me, and I will treat this jester like I would any knight.” 

The truth is, despite all the differences Mr. Oddmin and myself share, we share one similarity. We’re both artists of deception. He is a comedian, he is able to hide his emotions and masquerade new ones at the drop of the hat. Myself? I’m a pathologic liar, but more on subject, I’ve been told that I’m quite the magician. I’m able to use the art of misdirection to stun even the sharpest of audience members. He and I are two birds of the same feather. Except one difference, I’m lethal with my hands, and he’s just some awkward, failed court jester. And here’s the punch-line: when he steps into the ring with me, I’m going to make him beg for mercy.

“Well, I’m assuming you didn’t want to talk about your wrestling career, so why did you call me in here?” That was a good question, however, it was important that I could confide my history with one person, and who better than her? 

“You see, Natasha, we all wear masks. It’s all part of both deception and life. We all have our dirty little secrets, our moments of weakness that we aren’t proud of. We also have a fake persona that we try to emulate. We envision ourselves as someone that we are not. Each and every individual wears a mask and is hiding something. I am no exception to this, I’m simply better at hiding all my secrets.” At this point, Natasha had taken a seat before I asked my next question. “How old do you think I am?” Natasha answered late thirties, she couldn’t be more wrong.

“I’m a little over seventy. After fifty, the years kind of meshed into one, I stopped keeping track. I was born in Armenia, years after the genocide, but it was still crippled. We lived in the shadows, in the shambles of the Ottoman Empire. My father was a drunk Turk, and my mother was an Armenian prostitute. I used to get beat up every day at school because of this, so I learned magic, I tricked the bullies, or entertained them. As I grew older, I began finding my way into science. I loved the growing field of chemistry; however, I would follow in my father’s footsteps. I would become a soldier, a marksman who specialized in sniping and hand-to-hand combat. I pulled triggers, and people died.”

“B-but, how are you- how do you look this young?” Sitting at the edge of her chair, Natasha looked absolutely shocked. She wasn’t quite sure if she could believe it, I could tell, but I continued on with my ‘auto-biography.’

“In time, I made a friend, he would be my eventual business partner before we split up. His name is Niles Bahadir, a soldier who was a brilliant chemist. After our service, we went into chemistry, we believed that we could find the key to immortality. We believed we could turn back the clocks of time. You see, because ever since the dawn of humanity, humans have set out to defeat both nature and God. We have set out to find ways to live longer, and destroy the evolutionary process.” Putting several leaves on the table, I stare across at Natasha, a grin creeping across my face. “You can take the oil from these leaves, created in a laboratory using multiple ingredients and radiations, and put it in a syringe. In doing this, you can live a longer life, we weren’t sure how long. We went into business and Niles was looking to sell this immortality to others. But for me, you cannot put a price on immortality and only a select few deserve it.”

“So you killed him?” She said, an involuntary gasp escaping her.

“Niles was like a brother to me, I could not do such a thing. He had one weakness, he was desperately in love. His wife was a good woman, so it pained me to have to pull a trigger and kill her, but it was necessary, to keep balance and order in mankind. I disappeared as he mourned, taking the only sample with me.  Her case was closed, he fought for me to be put on trial, but it’s impossible to put a ghost on trial. I left Armenia, changed my name and began my corporation. We began replicating it in this very factory.” I took another sip of wine, knowing that Natasha probably despises me for confiding in her, however, I knew that it would stay between her and myself. 

“Who gave you the authority to choose who has immortality and who does not?” Glaring in my direction, her finger following suit, Natasha looked furious. This only prompted me to smile, as that was exactly what Niles asked me.

“No one did, but I am saving humanity. I am using it for selfish purposes, however, by not releasing it to the public, I am making sure it does not fall into the wrong hands.” 

“What if you are the wrong hands?” A good question. What if I was the wrong hands? What if, after all, I was the bad guy? I had lied about who I was my entire life, I had deprived the world of immortality while making myself a god. These injections, they not only virtually freeze the aging process, but also make me quicker, stronger and have enhanced reflexes. “You see Natasha, that’s not for you or myself to decide, I was smart enough to create it, therefore, I am the only one worthy of its great potential.” 

“Why are you telling me all this? Are you going to kill me too?” As she frantically spoke, I began to trace the outline of the corner of my mouth with my index finger. Just as I started doing that, my son ran in the room and gave her a big hug. Momentarily interrupted, I put my hand behind my son’s ear and pulled out a quarter to his amazement. As he laughed, I glanced at Natasha. 

“Two reasons: first, I need someone to know my history. Secondly, I need to find Niles Bahadir. I’ve heard whispers of his existence, which means he must have created the formula. The fact he hasn’t changed his name speaks to levels of stupidity or arrogance, and that man is not stupid. I need you to talk to anyone who has information on where he is. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a clown to kill.”