Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2013 22:20:31 GMT -6
Kronin lifted KOP up and held him. Both men knew what was coming and as Kronin showcased his strength, he muttered what he thought was the final word to the former Marine. “Goodnight, Jarhead.” With that, Kronin brought his opponent down and, like so many before, heard the ring shake with the impact, heard the breath driven from his opponent’s body. It was a done deal. Kronin made the cover.
What he didn’t hear was the referee counting. Glancing over, he saw Jesse Styles arguing with the ref. It was then that the German did something he rarely did. He lost his temper. Getting up, he charged and decked Jesse and knocked him off the ring apron, pointing to the man. “Stay the hell outta the match.” He said to Jesse as he walked over and covered KOP again. The ref dropped down and at 2, KOP kicked out.
Kronin let out an exasperated sigh. As he had told KOP, he was a commando and commandos were used to being outnumbered. Dixie was at the hospital with Al. Scarlet, Omega and Slater were preparing for Terrordome. Kronin knew he was alone in this match. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched KOP roll out to the ring and talk to Jesse. A thought crept into his mind. The name of the event was Kamikaze, right? Kronin smirked and charged, diving over the top rope... the look of sheer surprise and even some terror in Jesse and KOPs eyes made the pain of all three of them crashing into the guardrail worth it.
Worth losing the match? Maybe. KOP caught Kronin and drove him into the ring post. Kronin was rolled back into the ring. His shoulder hurt, both from the dive and from being rammed into the ring post. KOP locked on his cobra clutch and took Kronin to the mat. Kronin knew the Cobra Clutch. He had never tapped to it before. But yet the bell rang and now in the books it *said* that Kronin did. Kronin looked over and saw Jesse with a smug smirk on his face. KOP got up and bent down and smirked as he said. “Marines always have a plan... bitch.”
Back in the States, NEW fans were already getting unhappy with what they were already labeling ‘The Kamikaze Screwjob’ or the ‘Tokyo Screwjob.’ Every member of United had apologized for not being there for Kronin, but it didn’t bother him. The Styles Mafia had a plan, they executed it. Good for them. They were on borrowed time.
For now, though. There was another way to make the Styles Mafia pay. Dethrone the self-proclaimed greatest tag team ever, legends in their own minds, Hunter Valentyne and Johnny Stylez and become tag champs. Kronin and Slater had completed round 1 of team building and getting on the same page. As a make up for Kronin getting stuck in the rubber wall portion and a sign of trust, Slater had allowed Kronin to choose the next portion. That had led to... one of the numerous soccer fields in and around Chicago. At the moment, there was a pickup game going on, mostly Mexicans playing with their families watching on the sidelines. Slater walked up and looked out at the field. “A... football field. With Mexicans playing. Is there a Valora metaphor coming?”
Kronin smirked. “Did you know our sociopathic friend received athletic scholarships to USC for both Soccer as well as Track and Field? I assume she took one of them, because she went there and played both sports. What’s that tell you about her?” Kronin said, deciding to see how his partner could analyze and evaluate a threat. Slater sat down and thought for a second. “Well. People say Cera is fast. I know Cera, I’ve been in the ring with her but Valora is damn fast. Given her build, I’ll guess she was a sprinter. Helps her given how Latin America and South America prefer to play football.”
“Soccer.” Kronin said with a smile. Slater sighed and shook his head. “Football. Just because the Americans call it soccer doesn’t mean I have to.” Kronin patted his partner on the back, laughing. “The English coined the phrase soccer, though!”
Slater nodded. “Yes. An unfortunate mistake on our part and we prefer to just pretend mistakes like that never happened. Speaking of Valora. I was doing research. You and Judas teamed a bit, didn’t you?”
Kronin knew that was coming and nodded. “Yeah, we did. Briefly. Until we lost to Valora and Apathy and/or Judas got tired of his girlfriend hitting on me.” Slater blinked and took a few seconds to try and scrub his mind of the image. Kronin nodded. “Trust me dude. It was worse actually going through it. So when the English make a mistake, they don’t admit it? I guess England vs. Germany in the 2010 World Cup count? 4-1.”
Slater rolled his eyes and groaned. “Don’t remind me. That was so bloody painful to watch. What happened with you and Judas, though?”
Kronin sat and thought about this for a second and nodded. “Well. Judas is predictable. MMA. Amatuer Wrestling. You know how he’s going to come at you. He likes to play the sociopath, but I think he’s just trying to copy people like Valora and Cera. He better find a way to win though, because Valora has very little patience for losing with tag team partners. If she finds out what Judas is really up to... it won’t end well for him. How’s the knee?”
Slater glanced to the field and noticed it was clearing and he looked back to Kronin. “Can you play football?” Kronin frowned as he stood up and looked over Slater as he stood. “I’m German. I played soccer since about the time I could walk. I was in the stadium in 2010 watching Miroslav Klose and the German National team decimate the English team...”
Slater stands and smirks, looking up at Kronin and smirks. “My knee is good enough to be in goal. Will be a good test for it, anyways. I just asked because I thought you were a hockey player.” Kronin grinned and grabbed the soccer ball he brought with him and the two men walked on the field as Slater took up a spot in the goal and Kronin set the ball on the ground.
Kronin grinned and pointed to the left. “I’m going to shoot left first. High.” Slater rolled his eyes and Kronin dribbled the ball, kicked it up into the air, alternating it from knee to knee and then caught it perfectly with his foot, kicking high and to the left, right where he said he would. Slater, dove right and the ball went into the net. Slater got up slowly, a stunned look on his face. Kronin grinned and shook his head. “Told you where it was going, dude.”
Slater nodded. “No one ever kicks it where they say they will though. I was expecting deception.” He then looked back at the ball and then to Kronin. “Why did you announce the shot?” Kronin shrugged. “Because this isn’t about whether or not I can get the ball by you. This is about me trying to help you test your knee. This is about trust. That mistake there? Could call match. Now you know if I say I’m going left, I’m going left. If I say Valora is coming behind you, you know she is. If we’re gonna make this work, and we got a great chance of pulling the upset trust and companionship are a must..”
“Companionship? Asking me out on a date?” Slater asked with a wry smile. Kronin laughed and shook his head. “Uh, no. Firstly, I don’t swing that way and secondly, I’m pretty sure Lilly would hit both of us with a gypsy curse that would be like... horror movie level. What I meant was we have one thing that our opponents don’t have. Trust and the potential to be friends as well as a common cause.”
“Uhh.. I think I see what you’re trying to get at with some parts of that, but I think both teams we’ll be fighting have at least one component of that puzzle.” Slater said, grabbing the ball and heading down the sidewalk with Kronin, who smiled. “Nope. Look at it this way Slater. Take the ‘champs’ You’ve already picked apart how their Hall of Fame spot is a fraud and about as well deserved as Jesse Styles’ latest reign as World Champ. But let’s look at them deeper. Hunter Valentyne. The weak link. A man who guaranteed to win Terrordome and failed. A man who is almost totally focused on you and Valora, completely discounting Judas and myself. He’s great at running his mouth, not so great at backing it up. I know why he gifted Johnny with that shovel. Because Johnny has to constantly dig the team out of the holes Hunter’s mouth gets them into. Its gotta be wearing on him. The big problem with the Styles Mafia is ego. With the possible exception of Hazard, EVERY member of the Mafia thinks they’re the greatest fighter ever, the very best, whatever you wanna call it. Problem is. Most of them aren’t. So Common cause? Yeah, they wanna keep the belts, but beyond that, they got nothing.
Potential to be friends? Nope. You have Johnny and Hunter, aka Johnny’s fan boy and parrot. He’s the kid standing behind the bully saying ‘YEAH!’ to every threat the bully makes. Some people dig that. But a tag team is a unit. You need two people that can function together and I don’t think Johnny can trust Hunter to keep up his end of the team.”
Slater thinks as the two walk and nods. Kronin seemed to be perceptive and able to analyze opponents. From a different angle and experience than Slater, but it came to about the same result. “And Valora and Judas?” Kronin smirked. “Valora doesn’t trust anyone. Well.. maybe her and Apathy trusted each other but outside of that... Valora doesn’t trust. She also has no patience. As soon as she perceives that Judas is costing the team matches, she will turn on him. Now, they might claim they’re friends, but they also want us to think they’re sociopaths and thus they are incapable, by definition, of forming any sort of human connection, including friendship. Common cause? They got nothing. They’re both glory hounds that need to be the center of attention. I get the feeling you and I are different. It doesn’t matter which one of us gets the pin as long as we win the match. The mafia stole two belts from us at Kamikaze. I think its time we took a belt back.”
“So, how do we improve trust on our side?” Slater asks, looking back to the soccer field. “Not more football?” Kronin smirks as the duo round the block, walking around the edge of the park and the field. “No. I’m going to ask you something. But before I do, I’m going to tell you that you have the right to ask me something as well. I’m also going to tell you something that I’ve only told one other person... and she’s engaged to me or umm... hopefully will be when I ask her. I suspect you have a question about it anyways... so go ahead and ask and then I’ll tell you.”
Slater raised an eyebrow and regarded Kronin. Granted Germans were noted for being serious by nature but Kronin was even more so than usual. As it turns out, Slater did have a couple of questions for his new tag team partner. “‘I heard you played hockey, right? East Germany? Why didn’t you stick to that?”
Kronin scratched his chin and cleared his throat. “I umm can’t. Back when I played it was my job. 10-12 hours a day, every day. I played hockey, ran drills. Kept myself in shape. In return, I was given a living stipend. A very spartan like apartment. Food. Stuff like that. The downside, of course, that the Communists expect a return on their investment. You’re supposed to be the best and if you’re not the best, they aren’t shy about ‘helping’ you. We got a steam room.. What I and most of the team didn’t know... the trainers were pumping steroids into the steam mix. Apparently, it was believed that the ‘drawbacks’ would be less noticeable. For a time, it seemed they might be right. But we still ran into trouble. For me, the end came when I got leave and went home to visit my family. I found that two Soviet guards had beaten and raped my sister. I beat them to death. Obviously, while I was in jail, exams should I had Steroids in my system.
When Germany reunified, I was pardoned, but the hockey teams were aware of what the Communists pulled. No hockey teams were interested in signing me. I tried to make a run at the NHL, but they considered me too big. Soo... the military.”
Slater was dead silent. A man that could understand Slater’s own problems and yet a man that Slater couldn’t risk telling. Slater decided to do the next best thing and ask another question. “About your military.. umm first of all, thank you. Granted we come from different countries and all but.. our countries are allies and I respect people willing to do what you did but I always wonder...”
Kronin knew what question was coming and nodded. “Did I kill people? Did I enjoy it? If so, how am I different than Valora and Judas and Cera? Would I serve again if I could do it over? Why did I leave? Those are the common questions.” Slater nodded, indicating he meant to ask at least some of them and Kronin let out a long breath and looked down at the ground. “Ever read ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’?” Slater nodded and Kronin continued. “Its amazingly accurate. At first glance, it would seem I’m not much different. The ‘enemy’ is dehumanized. Makes them easier to kill, you see. Its all very surgical. Very precise. You’ve killed someone before you’re even consciously aware of it some times. The difference... comes after the killing. I never enjoyed ending a human life. I’m not allowed to say where all I’ve done it, but I have ended enough human lives that, were it outside of combat, I’d be considered a serial killer/mass murderer. I regret every one. I’m proud to say that each one was a last resort issue or to defend someone that couldn’t protect themselves. Valora and Cera? They... don’t feel anything or worse, enjoy it. Judas? He’s a poser trying to fit into Valora and Cera’s club. Eventually, he will fail one of their tests and he will be ripped apart.”
“You don’t think he’s actually a sociopath?” Slater asked. Kronin shook his head. “He’s searching for an identity. Valora intrigues him so he’s going to try and be like her. He may BECOME a sociopath because of that, but he’s not one currently. He’s a more dangerous version of Hunter Valentyne. That should answer the first few. As for serving again? I’d do it in a heartbeat. I left... because the KSK requires a certain outlook that I couldn’t maintain anymore. I guess I didn’t want to end up dehumanized, cold and numb and callous and so I left. I served honorably. Did everything I wanted to do. It was time to try something else.”
The two turned and headed back into the park, heading back to the soccer area as Kronin sighed. “Alright, man. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors backstage. Given what happened in Terrordome... I have to ask.... are you juicing now?”
Slater narrowed his eyes. Kronin, in typical German fashion did not beat around the bush but came right out and nailed Slater with the question. Part of Slater wanted to tell him what happened. Kronin would understand, right? But no... Slater couldn’t risk it. Fortunately, Kronin had given Slater wiggle room and the man nodded. “Yeah... I know how it looks. But I promise. I’m not taking anything now.” It was true enough. He hadn’t been taking anything since Falcon spiked his water and he wouldn’t be taking them in the future. Slater just had to make it a couple more weeks...
Kronin, meanwhile, examined Slater carefully, looking signs of deception. But either Slater was a damn good liar or he was telling the truth because Kronin didn’t see any. “Good. See how easy the trust thing can be? Tell you what, man. Take a load off that knee, I’ll go get us something to drink and we do some workouts when I get back.”
Slater sat down and handed Kronin some money. “You paid last time. My turn now and no jokes about Englishmen.” Kronin hesitated for a long moment before sighing and taking the money. “Fair enough...” He said as he walked off. Slater sat down and massaged his knee and watched Kronin walk off and sighed. He had just lied to his tag team partner. There’d be hell to pay if it came out. Kronin hid it well, but Slater suspected that there was a way to piss the German off and God help anyone unlucky enough to be in the way if that happened. Slater just hoped it was Hunter, Johnny, Valora and Judas taking the brunt of the big man’s anger... not Slater himself..
What he didn’t hear was the referee counting. Glancing over, he saw Jesse Styles arguing with the ref. It was then that the German did something he rarely did. He lost his temper. Getting up, he charged and decked Jesse and knocked him off the ring apron, pointing to the man. “Stay the hell outta the match.” He said to Jesse as he walked over and covered KOP again. The ref dropped down and at 2, KOP kicked out.
Kronin let out an exasperated sigh. As he had told KOP, he was a commando and commandos were used to being outnumbered. Dixie was at the hospital with Al. Scarlet, Omega and Slater were preparing for Terrordome. Kronin knew he was alone in this match. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched KOP roll out to the ring and talk to Jesse. A thought crept into his mind. The name of the event was Kamikaze, right? Kronin smirked and charged, diving over the top rope... the look of sheer surprise and even some terror in Jesse and KOPs eyes made the pain of all three of them crashing into the guardrail worth it.
Worth losing the match? Maybe. KOP caught Kronin and drove him into the ring post. Kronin was rolled back into the ring. His shoulder hurt, both from the dive and from being rammed into the ring post. KOP locked on his cobra clutch and took Kronin to the mat. Kronin knew the Cobra Clutch. He had never tapped to it before. But yet the bell rang and now in the books it *said* that Kronin did. Kronin looked over and saw Jesse with a smug smirk on his face. KOP got up and bent down and smirked as he said. “Marines always have a plan... bitch.”
Back in the States, NEW fans were already getting unhappy with what they were already labeling ‘The Kamikaze Screwjob’ or the ‘Tokyo Screwjob.’ Every member of United had apologized for not being there for Kronin, but it didn’t bother him. The Styles Mafia had a plan, they executed it. Good for them. They were on borrowed time.
For now, though. There was another way to make the Styles Mafia pay. Dethrone the self-proclaimed greatest tag team ever, legends in their own minds, Hunter Valentyne and Johnny Stylez and become tag champs. Kronin and Slater had completed round 1 of team building and getting on the same page. As a make up for Kronin getting stuck in the rubber wall portion and a sign of trust, Slater had allowed Kronin to choose the next portion. That had led to... one of the numerous soccer fields in and around Chicago. At the moment, there was a pickup game going on, mostly Mexicans playing with their families watching on the sidelines. Slater walked up and looked out at the field. “A... football field. With Mexicans playing. Is there a Valora metaphor coming?”
Kronin smirked. “Did you know our sociopathic friend received athletic scholarships to USC for both Soccer as well as Track and Field? I assume she took one of them, because she went there and played both sports. What’s that tell you about her?” Kronin said, deciding to see how his partner could analyze and evaluate a threat. Slater sat down and thought for a second. “Well. People say Cera is fast. I know Cera, I’ve been in the ring with her but Valora is damn fast. Given her build, I’ll guess she was a sprinter. Helps her given how Latin America and South America prefer to play football.”
“Soccer.” Kronin said with a smile. Slater sighed and shook his head. “Football. Just because the Americans call it soccer doesn’t mean I have to.” Kronin patted his partner on the back, laughing. “The English coined the phrase soccer, though!”
Slater nodded. “Yes. An unfortunate mistake on our part and we prefer to just pretend mistakes like that never happened. Speaking of Valora. I was doing research. You and Judas teamed a bit, didn’t you?”
Kronin knew that was coming and nodded. “Yeah, we did. Briefly. Until we lost to Valora and Apathy and/or Judas got tired of his girlfriend hitting on me.” Slater blinked and took a few seconds to try and scrub his mind of the image. Kronin nodded. “Trust me dude. It was worse actually going through it. So when the English make a mistake, they don’t admit it? I guess England vs. Germany in the 2010 World Cup count? 4-1.”
Slater rolled his eyes and groaned. “Don’t remind me. That was so bloody painful to watch. What happened with you and Judas, though?”
Kronin sat and thought about this for a second and nodded. “Well. Judas is predictable. MMA. Amatuer Wrestling. You know how he’s going to come at you. He likes to play the sociopath, but I think he’s just trying to copy people like Valora and Cera. He better find a way to win though, because Valora has very little patience for losing with tag team partners. If she finds out what Judas is really up to... it won’t end well for him. How’s the knee?”
Slater glanced to the field and noticed it was clearing and he looked back to Kronin. “Can you play football?” Kronin frowned as he stood up and looked over Slater as he stood. “I’m German. I played soccer since about the time I could walk. I was in the stadium in 2010 watching Miroslav Klose and the German National team decimate the English team...”
Slater stands and smirks, looking up at Kronin and smirks. “My knee is good enough to be in goal. Will be a good test for it, anyways. I just asked because I thought you were a hockey player.” Kronin grinned and grabbed the soccer ball he brought with him and the two men walked on the field as Slater took up a spot in the goal and Kronin set the ball on the ground.
Kronin grinned and pointed to the left. “I’m going to shoot left first. High.” Slater rolled his eyes and Kronin dribbled the ball, kicked it up into the air, alternating it from knee to knee and then caught it perfectly with his foot, kicking high and to the left, right where he said he would. Slater, dove right and the ball went into the net. Slater got up slowly, a stunned look on his face. Kronin grinned and shook his head. “Told you where it was going, dude.”
Slater nodded. “No one ever kicks it where they say they will though. I was expecting deception.” He then looked back at the ball and then to Kronin. “Why did you announce the shot?” Kronin shrugged. “Because this isn’t about whether or not I can get the ball by you. This is about me trying to help you test your knee. This is about trust. That mistake there? Could call match. Now you know if I say I’m going left, I’m going left. If I say Valora is coming behind you, you know she is. If we’re gonna make this work, and we got a great chance of pulling the upset trust and companionship are a must..”
“Companionship? Asking me out on a date?” Slater asked with a wry smile. Kronin laughed and shook his head. “Uh, no. Firstly, I don’t swing that way and secondly, I’m pretty sure Lilly would hit both of us with a gypsy curse that would be like... horror movie level. What I meant was we have one thing that our opponents don’t have. Trust and the potential to be friends as well as a common cause.”
“Uhh.. I think I see what you’re trying to get at with some parts of that, but I think both teams we’ll be fighting have at least one component of that puzzle.” Slater said, grabbing the ball and heading down the sidewalk with Kronin, who smiled. “Nope. Look at it this way Slater. Take the ‘champs’ You’ve already picked apart how their Hall of Fame spot is a fraud and about as well deserved as Jesse Styles’ latest reign as World Champ. But let’s look at them deeper. Hunter Valentyne. The weak link. A man who guaranteed to win Terrordome and failed. A man who is almost totally focused on you and Valora, completely discounting Judas and myself. He’s great at running his mouth, not so great at backing it up. I know why he gifted Johnny with that shovel. Because Johnny has to constantly dig the team out of the holes Hunter’s mouth gets them into. Its gotta be wearing on him. The big problem with the Styles Mafia is ego. With the possible exception of Hazard, EVERY member of the Mafia thinks they’re the greatest fighter ever, the very best, whatever you wanna call it. Problem is. Most of them aren’t. So Common cause? Yeah, they wanna keep the belts, but beyond that, they got nothing.
Potential to be friends? Nope. You have Johnny and Hunter, aka Johnny’s fan boy and parrot. He’s the kid standing behind the bully saying ‘YEAH!’ to every threat the bully makes. Some people dig that. But a tag team is a unit. You need two people that can function together and I don’t think Johnny can trust Hunter to keep up his end of the team.”
Slater thinks as the two walk and nods. Kronin seemed to be perceptive and able to analyze opponents. From a different angle and experience than Slater, but it came to about the same result. “And Valora and Judas?” Kronin smirked. “Valora doesn’t trust anyone. Well.. maybe her and Apathy trusted each other but outside of that... Valora doesn’t trust. She also has no patience. As soon as she perceives that Judas is costing the team matches, she will turn on him. Now, they might claim they’re friends, but they also want us to think they’re sociopaths and thus they are incapable, by definition, of forming any sort of human connection, including friendship. Common cause? They got nothing. They’re both glory hounds that need to be the center of attention. I get the feeling you and I are different. It doesn’t matter which one of us gets the pin as long as we win the match. The mafia stole two belts from us at Kamikaze. I think its time we took a belt back.”
“So, how do we improve trust on our side?” Slater asks, looking back to the soccer field. “Not more football?” Kronin smirks as the duo round the block, walking around the edge of the park and the field. “No. I’m going to ask you something. But before I do, I’m going to tell you that you have the right to ask me something as well. I’m also going to tell you something that I’ve only told one other person... and she’s engaged to me or umm... hopefully will be when I ask her. I suspect you have a question about it anyways... so go ahead and ask and then I’ll tell you.”
Slater raised an eyebrow and regarded Kronin. Granted Germans were noted for being serious by nature but Kronin was even more so than usual. As it turns out, Slater did have a couple of questions for his new tag team partner. “‘I heard you played hockey, right? East Germany? Why didn’t you stick to that?”
Kronin scratched his chin and cleared his throat. “I umm can’t. Back when I played it was my job. 10-12 hours a day, every day. I played hockey, ran drills. Kept myself in shape. In return, I was given a living stipend. A very spartan like apartment. Food. Stuff like that. The downside, of course, that the Communists expect a return on their investment. You’re supposed to be the best and if you’re not the best, they aren’t shy about ‘helping’ you. We got a steam room.. What I and most of the team didn’t know... the trainers were pumping steroids into the steam mix. Apparently, it was believed that the ‘drawbacks’ would be less noticeable. For a time, it seemed they might be right. But we still ran into trouble. For me, the end came when I got leave and went home to visit my family. I found that two Soviet guards had beaten and raped my sister. I beat them to death. Obviously, while I was in jail, exams should I had Steroids in my system.
When Germany reunified, I was pardoned, but the hockey teams were aware of what the Communists pulled. No hockey teams were interested in signing me. I tried to make a run at the NHL, but they considered me too big. Soo... the military.”
Slater was dead silent. A man that could understand Slater’s own problems and yet a man that Slater couldn’t risk telling. Slater decided to do the next best thing and ask another question. “About your military.. umm first of all, thank you. Granted we come from different countries and all but.. our countries are allies and I respect people willing to do what you did but I always wonder...”
Kronin knew what question was coming and nodded. “Did I kill people? Did I enjoy it? If so, how am I different than Valora and Judas and Cera? Would I serve again if I could do it over? Why did I leave? Those are the common questions.” Slater nodded, indicating he meant to ask at least some of them and Kronin let out a long breath and looked down at the ground. “Ever read ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’?” Slater nodded and Kronin continued. “Its amazingly accurate. At first glance, it would seem I’m not much different. The ‘enemy’ is dehumanized. Makes them easier to kill, you see. Its all very surgical. Very precise. You’ve killed someone before you’re even consciously aware of it some times. The difference... comes after the killing. I never enjoyed ending a human life. I’m not allowed to say where all I’ve done it, but I have ended enough human lives that, were it outside of combat, I’d be considered a serial killer/mass murderer. I regret every one. I’m proud to say that each one was a last resort issue or to defend someone that couldn’t protect themselves. Valora and Cera? They... don’t feel anything or worse, enjoy it. Judas? He’s a poser trying to fit into Valora and Cera’s club. Eventually, he will fail one of their tests and he will be ripped apart.”
“You don’t think he’s actually a sociopath?” Slater asked. Kronin shook his head. “He’s searching for an identity. Valora intrigues him so he’s going to try and be like her. He may BECOME a sociopath because of that, but he’s not one currently. He’s a more dangerous version of Hunter Valentyne. That should answer the first few. As for serving again? I’d do it in a heartbeat. I left... because the KSK requires a certain outlook that I couldn’t maintain anymore. I guess I didn’t want to end up dehumanized, cold and numb and callous and so I left. I served honorably. Did everything I wanted to do. It was time to try something else.”
The two turned and headed back into the park, heading back to the soccer area as Kronin sighed. “Alright, man. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors backstage. Given what happened in Terrordome... I have to ask.... are you juicing now?”
Slater narrowed his eyes. Kronin, in typical German fashion did not beat around the bush but came right out and nailed Slater with the question. Part of Slater wanted to tell him what happened. Kronin would understand, right? But no... Slater couldn’t risk it. Fortunately, Kronin had given Slater wiggle room and the man nodded. “Yeah... I know how it looks. But I promise. I’m not taking anything now.” It was true enough. He hadn’t been taking anything since Falcon spiked his water and he wouldn’t be taking them in the future. Slater just had to make it a couple more weeks...
Kronin, meanwhile, examined Slater carefully, looking signs of deception. But either Slater was a damn good liar or he was telling the truth because Kronin didn’t see any. “Good. See how easy the trust thing can be? Tell you what, man. Take a load off that knee, I’ll go get us something to drink and we do some workouts when I get back.”
Slater sat down and handed Kronin some money. “You paid last time. My turn now and no jokes about Englishmen.” Kronin hesitated for a long moment before sighing and taking the money. “Fair enough...” He said as he walked off. Slater sat down and massaged his knee and watched Kronin walk off and sighed. He had just lied to his tag team partner. There’d be hell to pay if it came out. Kronin hid it well, but Slater suspected that there was a way to piss the German off and God help anyone unlucky enough to be in the way if that happened. Slater just hoped it was Hunter, Johnny, Valora and Judas taking the brunt of the big man’s anger... not Slater himself..