Charlie "The Ghost" Rossi :"Paying the Price of Being Me" Jan 30, 2018 16:38:48 GMT -5
Post by charlietheghostrossi on Jan 30, 2018 16:38:48 GMT -5
“Death comes to us all; we can only choose how to face it when it comes.”
― Robert Jordan, The Dragon Reborn
Confessions of a Killer
Charlie "The Ghost" Rossi Chronicles
Journal entry 3 dated: January 30th,, 2018.
SO, today was like any other. I had just come off working a match for Wrestling Championship Federation my current employer, I also will be splitting my time with Action Wrestling where I will be working there in a weeks time as well. We were in New Jersey live this week and I worked a match with a mute and a alcoholic by story line wise. While Samuel is mute and autistic he was very easy to work with in the ring. The spots and the finish went off with out to much trouble from both parties. Sam, by nature takes instructions well and did his very best to make me look good while I gave him the rub to ensure that he to came out looking strong in the end too. From the agents back stage and the John Rabid as well were happy with the product and was happy in general with the finish. I currently, hear there are plans for me to work a program with Jack Smith. Now, I don't have to many reservations what so ever working the kid but my hopes are that he listens well while were out there. As a twenty year plus veteran of the sport of sports entertainment it's my job to see to it that we go out there and put on the best match possible in our tag team match so that we both come out with spectators happy with the outcome and build interest in Jack Smith and I doing future business together and helping build our gimmicks up and the Wrestling Champion Federation brand in general.
When I get the free moment I will have to call the front office and get the kids cellular number so that I can feel him out and see where is head is and weather he is a team player or someone I may have to teach a lesson to. Either way I will get my point across no matter what it takes. As a father of three and one that relays on this sport to put money and food on the table for my family it is all about what I can do to get over and being on the road three hundred nights of the year while it be exhausting its the sacrifice that I have made in order to live out my dream and make a name for myself. I know the marketing department has me booked for two autograph signings and a few radio interviews for Wrestling Championship Federation and you add Action Wrestling to the plate and you have a full meal of things to keep me busy and entertained. This is much needed in my life so that I do not become fixated on "The Hunter". He is someone that I so desperately try to hid but the nature of who I am and "The Code" I live by does not allow me to discourage his antics when he sees injustice. As, careful as I maybe and have become I worry at times that someone or anyone could spoil the fun. That's why I have to be careful and calculated in the decisions I make and in the actions that I take. There is a lot on the line if I were to make a mistake. More the reason not to.... -Charlie "The Ghost" Rossi
A Look in the past CatLake, South Carolina (A Return to the Scene of a crime commited by Nameless)
Several Years Ago.....
It was the first night that he’d spent the night in the loft of the old barn. A broken deck of scud was left over from the four days of mid- June rain. The low hanging clouds took slow turns with bright stars and a rising moon, competing to determine how much of the night’s influence would be dispelled. The closest man made light was more than a mile to the west a single dim bulb dangling from a cord outside an abandon gas station. In the evenings, just after dusk, Wedgwood -gray shadows would materialize at the edge of the wooded brake. The crunching noise of tires on gravel came to the loft, waking him in time to see the opening of the drama. As soon as Charlie heard the sounds he rolled over and crawled away from the loft opening. He pulled down the scowl of his jacket low and pressed his face to a place where a narrow strip had been broken off the barn’s sliding, getting positioned in time to watch the car pass in front of the empty gas station and move the last few yards towards the old barn. Below him, at the base of the ladder where the stalls were, a young girl murmured that she was awake. The man whispers for her to stay quiet.
The car came to rest in front of the barn’s only door, its lights pointing at the edge of the muddy field where the road ended. Charlie stayed still. He couldn’t see into the car, but he could feel its driver staring at the blank field. Scattered skeletons of last year’s cotton stalks stared back. After a long moment, the car backed and turned, starting back the way it came. Half a mile west of the old barn lay the lifeless body of Pedro Morte in a crumpled mess. Outside the barn and beyond the Cat Lake, the clouds were over powering the moon again, winning the war of darkness. He was almost in the woods when Charlie heard the groaning of a man. He could see well enough to see that the man was in real bad shape and the figure was broken. Charlie quickened his pace intent on getting to where he needed to be. Until now, the beaten man in front of Charlie held no significant relationship to him until the man groans his name.
Pedro Morte: Charlie, help me.
Highway 49 West branched off from Highway 61 up in Summerville. The closest hospital lay three hundred miles outside of Salem. The young frail man lay broken and beaten lacerations on his arms and bare chest. Young Cierra weeps silently as she presses gauze and rubbing alcohol to the open wounds on the man’s broken torso. Her father, Charlie places his weapon of choice his silver magnum Colt forty-five in his waste band and looks on his broken soldier with contempt in his heart and anger in his eyes. The chiming of his cellular comes alive as on the ID Nameless shows. Flipping open a text message simply reads:
“You have something of mine, now I have something of yours. Trade off in Washington. Oh and Pedro sung like a caged bird when that drill touched his flesh. One days left.
Written in thy own blood,
More words came to Charlie from the darkness, interrupting his discordant thoughts.
Cierra Ross: Stay real still Mister Morte.
The cold trembling hand of Rossi slid past Pedro’s head to his neck. Charlie held his friend’s injured arm close and tucked his friend’s chin to his chest. Fire worked its way up his arm and across the man’s face, brining him closer to reality, and he stifled a moan…. Charlie watched as he saw the bone in Pedro’s arm pressing against the skin and forced down the bile that rose from the man’s throat. He heard wet sounds near his head, the voice of Pedro Morte came to his ear again.
Pedro Morte: They know everything Charlie.
Charlie was now trembling and near throwing up and frightened of the information that was given out. The critical information given was of life and death.
Charlie “The Ghost” Rossi: “No talking friend. I will take care of everything I promise. Stay quiet you need you rest. His voice trembled in time with his hand. “ I will kill him for this.”
The smallest actor in this drama was preparing herself on her promise to take care of this man. The dynamics of what was taking place here on this current road were about to change.
Cierra Rossi: “Father I have to go back. There has been to much blood shed. This has got to stop. I cannot bare to see anyone get harmed anymore. Father please I am pleading with you take me back and this stops.”
Charlie smirked as he started to raise to his knees, but something tugged at his heart. Making no more sound than the clouds, the darkness on his left seemed to change shape. The man swiveled his head slowly and stared hard into the nearby night.
Charlie “The Ghost” Rossi: “I cannot. My dear daughter to give up hope is to die an uncertain death. I will not allow that monster to prevail. Death my come to me Cierra but as your father I cannot allow my daughter to be brain washed no more. I give up hope on your mother Cierra but I have yet to loose hope with you. I am you father and I shall fight to my end. A price will be paid in crimson as it will be the color that stains Washington painting a picture of carnage and the massacre of the “Nameless.”
Cierra Rossi: “Father, you’re in way over your heard. The voice lectured.
Charlie “The Ghost” Rossi: Well, well, well looks like we are going to have to separate the men from the boys. The average man, if he kills someone, does it because he’s scared. The tone changes from contempt to anger. “If I have to kill some here it’ll be them.” His voice returns to his normal neutral tone. Nameless is to stupid to make a good decision I may have to kill him. After he’s dead, you can still choose. Whether you die or not, this time next week everyone in the nation is going to know what happened. If you have any brains, you’ll will make a run for it as soon as you get loose. But I’m backed in a corner here and it isn’t my choice it’s yours. Know where to put your loyalty, but either way there will be death on this night.
It had been a wet spring, and the highway which leads out of the town of Salem was suffering through its fifteenth month of a one-year repair job was no more than a wide, muddy track, complicated by poorly marked detours. Sometime around three in the morning as all is finally at rest at the edge of the barn. Resting at its entrance with his silver Colt forty-five is the guardian of valor. Brow wrinkled and a mask of emotionless feelings Charlie “The Ghost” Rossi rests.
Charlie "The Ghost" Rossi's Intrnalized Monolog
Stacking the odds against you. A betting man will look at his hand and will always know that the house at some point will win. The beauty of the gamble. This action and the consequences that will prevail the betting man will always play the odds.. But what happens when the odds are stacked against them. Its like a hand around your throat Jack Smith unconsciously you have put your neck on the line and as my hand tightens around your throat you will come to realize that the serpent has constricted and caught his prey red handed. I am reminded of a childhood game called "Pick up Jacks". A rubber ball is bounced and the player tries to snatch as many jacks as they can before the ball bounces once. Jack. While youth is on your side, its the cunning predictor in me that looks at you as a gazelle on the pride and me the lion hunting you slowly but surely I watch you in the distance waiting for you to take your eyes away for one moment. BAM!!!
Your caught in the jaws of the king of the pride. Like the fly buzzing around you tire from the flight and land on a plant that looks friendly and quaint. Yet again, Jack Smith looks are deceiving you young man have fallen in the trap of the Venus fly trap. Again, your caught in the clutches of nature's cycle. From the beginning of time from the grass that grows, to the seeds that are scattered across the plains to the gazelle that eats the grass to the lion that feasts on the gazelle they all have a place in the cycle of life. While I am high on the food chain Jack you are the grass that the bottom feeders eat and I am the lion that see you as a side dish on his way to greater heights and glory. Does that mean I take you for granted? No, you fool it just means the obvious. I do not respect your talents and I sure do not consider you a threat in the least. This week were in a tag team competition where we both have to rely on our partners as well. I can assure you that I have full faith in my counterpart to help assist me in getting the job done and moving forward and you and I coming face to face one on one. This is something just a short week ago I earned.
Life full of regret, remorse and sorrow. A man most go through the valley if he wants to reach for the height of the mountains. Here and now we are in a time that placement is everything. Were he or she sits is what its all about. Will it be on the right hand or the left? Will it be man that wins or woman. Much is left for you to wonder who will sacrifice in order to win. I look into my past and cannot help but see the future. You know they say its not the size of the dog in the fight but its the size of the fight in the dog. So, it falls onto even more of not only what will I sacrifice but also the taste of hunger that is on my lips. Like an animal I was given the taste of that sweet nectarine and from here there is no turning back. I was given a choice in the beginning to leave this world of shame and live a life full of happiness and satisfaction. But, you see the wise man would have taken such a great deed of a life full of gratitude and ran with it. But, you see I choose the opposite side of the spectrum. I choose the business over family, friends and love. This life is what I have dreamed of and this the life that I choose.
So, by choice I became him. Very simple the logic was easy to take my mask off and place a more complete person in front of it. No longer a man of emotion, but in its place stands a machine. I was given instructions to succeed at all cost. Sacrificed love for the pursuit of success I did. No man woman nor child stands in my way. In a ring men and women with fight for the chance of being a name in this business. No simple task will it be to with standing the punishment, that comes when you are thrown into a den of ravenous animals but time will tell when a king will split the sea of bodies and take his thrown among the giants of this business. War is known to have its causalities. But a hunter will submerge as he has in the past a champion. My name will further be known for the risk of life in order to reach the depth that only the righteous go. Nothing personal just strictly business.