Sins of the Father VI: The End Justifies the Means

[Gerard Angelo]

The plan had some odd routes to get to the end game, but it almost couldn’t have gone any better.

At least that’s what Anthony Angelo thought as his limo left the final debate for the New York senate race. The New York primaries were less then three days away and the former CEO of AngCorp was running for the New York senate seat basically unopposed. Now the GOP had someone to fill in but it was too little too late. The murder of Bill McGrogan was a blow to them. Tony was basically all but guaranteed to become Senator Angelo.

In the debate, which Tony basically obliterated GOP fill in Tom Jones, he gave his most “heartfelt” condolences to Bill’s family and promised to crack down on crime, not only in New York, but across the country. Tony’s approval rating was through the roof. Hell, if he could carry this momentum the next couple of years he would be President with almost little effort.

The only small problem was the sloppy way Bill was murdered. Semenov’s guy was suppose to make it look like he died from natural causes. Instead a sixty-eight year old man put up such a fight that the man got caught choking the life out of him and it was being treated as a political assassination. It’s something that could come back and bite everyone involved in the ass. Tony wasn’t worried about himself though. But the time anything could come up about him, he would be entrenched as a U.S. Senator.

And he would gladly give up Semenov and the entire Russian mafia to further his own agenda. But that was only a matter of when, not if.

Tony sip slowly from his glass of scotch as his limo made its way to JFK so he could get on his private plane. In a few days Tony will be one step closer to his goal of being the most powerful man in the world. One step closer to getting everything he thought. nay, knew he deserved.

A double vibration inside his suit jacket pocket snaps the billionaire from his thoughts. The double vibration happens again and Tony reaches into his left inside jacket pocket and withdraws an old style black flip phone. A “burner” if you will. Tony doesn’t even check the caller ID. He knows who it is.

“Hello, Vladimir.” Says the Angelo patriarch.

“Hello, Senator Angelo,” says a cold voice that belongs to Vladimir Semenov, “Or is it too early to call you that?”

“Nothing is a given except for death.”

A mirthless laugh that was as cold as Siberia answered Tony. “Yes, indeed. That is a good saying. I will use that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t call to exchange pleasantries,” Tony says, trying to move the conversation along, “What can I do for you?” He didn’t like being on the phone with the mobster longer then he had to. It was bad for business.

“You are a man of business, Angelo. I like that. I was calling to make sure you remembered our agreement, yes?”

“I did not forget, Vlad”, Tony said, trying not to sound annoyed, “You will get your due.” Why was he asking this now? Tony has never forgotten a debt that was owed. Never. They were going to ruin everything.

“Just reminding you my friend.” Click. He hung up. Tony closed the phone and put it back in his suit pocket, staring out the window. Not for the first time he wondered if getting involved with the Russian mafia was worth it. But of course it was. You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. And you couldn’t become President of the United States with out stepping on a few people.

Tony took another drink from his scotch, draining the glass.

The end justified the means.

Always.

============


My life has always been a busy one.

Since I was a child I nearly always had something to do. From playing Pop Warner to little league, when I was young free time had been a luxury I didn’t know too often. Even when I was older the free time I had between sports was mostly filled with traveling between my parents houses and after that there always seemed to be a girl or three I spent my time on.

I guess you could say it prepared me for the life of being a professional wrestler. If I wasn’t traveling, I was training. If I wasn’t training, I was watching film. If I wasn’t watching film, I was trying to stick to my strict diet. And when I wasn’t doing all of that I was filming my television show and/or filming a movie. Not mention every appearance and promotion I do for both my jobs.

It was a thankless job being Gerard Angelo. But somebody had to do it. And I do it well.

My point is I busted my ass week in and week out for over fifteen years for the business. I’ve sacrificed more then my share. I’ve ruined relationships, personal and professional, in the hunt to be the best damn wrestler in the world. Which is why I think it’s hilarious guys like Justin Michaels and Crazy Boy have soooo much to say about me.

It’s hilarious Michaels says I don’t have an original thought, yet he’s the one copying a seven year old promo from another wrestling company to start off an episode of Trauma. Except unlike the first “pipe bomb” yours had all the impact of a fly hitting the side of a tank. Hell you weren’t even man enough to talk shit like an adult. You needed a bunch of goons to protect you. Proving my point that Justin Michaels is the biggest pussy walking the face of the planet. Next time we cross paths I’m gonna break your jaw. And that’s a promise.

But all of that is for another week. This week I have to deal with Tyrone Smith. Another guy who thinks I’m an “undeserving rookie”. That bit is getting super annoying guys. It’s 2018. I’m like seventy-five percent sure you have a smart phone.

So here’s what you do. Grab your phone. Open up the web browsing app. Go to Google or Yahoo, or whatever search engine you fancy and type my name into it. I promise if you do a little research you guys will realize I’m no a “rookie” as you all like to say. I’d tell you everything I’ve done in the beautiful little business of ours but I don’t have the time and I’m not one to do your work for you.

Now Tyrone, I’m sure you were this big deal back in the day. You probably won a whole bunch of titles and such. Now you’re pretty much the guy they book on a card because you can do some cool flips. It’s awesome you found a little niche for yourself but I have much bigger goals then to keep jerking the curtain with you each week. I beat you last week. Now I’m sure you’ll attribute that to Grimm, but you did have the regining, “defending”, North American Champion on your team so I guess we are at a stalemate.

I could bitch and moan about having to face you again this week, but that would be pointless. So I’m just gonna roll up my preverbal sleeves and come to Trauma and do my job, which is beating you.

I’m moving on to bigger and better things, Tyrone. You’re merely a speed bump. You can say my ego is out of control. You can say it’s cocky, not confidence.

But, it’s not when it’s true.

=======

Gerard Angelo turned his television off in frustration. He had just watched his father spit out lie after lie in his debate between New York senate candidates. That wasn’t even the worst part. Since his opposition was dead he was basically a shoe in to become a Senator in November. Gerry rubbed his eyes before picking up what was left of his Michelob Ultra and pounding it, slamming the bottle back on his coffee table.

He leaned back into the couch, hands clasped behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know how much worse this week could get. The stuff with his father aside, Gerard thought he had finally turned the corner in his PCW career. He had won an Icey for Breakout Star. Back to back weeks he staged with Stormm and Grimm. Things were going great. This week his was back to curtain jerking. Against Crazy Boy, the guy who shows up when ever he felt like it.

Maybe he was wrong, but Gerry thought he was above these things at this point. The Hollywood Hero felt like he had done more then enough at this point to be able to wrestle the upper echelon of PCW. Not guys who only show up when their bank accounts run dry for a pay check. Hell, Gerard has been here for months and hasn’t even had an Underground title shot even though he has more high profile wins then some of the last few challengers. What does one have to do for proper respect, Gerry was asking himself. Did he have to make an example of Tyrone Smith? Did the front office want Gerard to lay the bloody and battered corpse of Crazy Boy at their feet for Gerard to get noticed?

If that’s what they wanted, then that’s what Angelo would do. He was going to make an example of the Crazy One and show the whole world once again why Gerard Angelo was The Man Without Peer.

The bing of a text message cut through Gerry’s thoughts. He reached into his pocket and removed his iPhone. It was a text from his manager, Jimmy Rothenberg. He opened it and the text was very simple.

PARAMOUNT PICKED UP IRON HORSE

Gerry leaped to his feet and let out a loud cheer, nearly knocking over his coffee table. Gerard didn’t care though. Finally some good news this week. He finally was going to be able to film his movie. The Hollywood Hero ran through his massive house, yelling at the top of his lungs in excitement.

Maybe it was finally gonna be his time.

Finally.