The Nuclear Family Pt. 04

While the focus was on Stephen and me, the referee was close by watching our moves, the crowd and cameras were on us. Before anyone could stop it, a lone figure climbed into the ring and took a defensive stance. The person was not a fighter; they didn't have the background for it. Indeed, his clothes looked tired and worn, the grey hair showing a man well past his prime. No, there was no threat from the man who had entered the ring himself as a fighter. However, the gun he held was a threat, and of course, it was pointed at me.

My father.

Stephen and I had separated, looking at Brad Other Sr as he stood holding the gun on me. My father snarled at both the referee and my opponent, "Get out!" Stephen looked briefly at me. I saw the thought pass through his mind but shook my head. He nodded and helped the ref out of the ring. The entire crowd had gone silent.

"So," my father snarled. "You think you can walk away from your family just because you're some hotshot fighter?"

There were thousands of people in the arena, and while there was security, they were spaced around the place. No one usually wanted to climb into the ring around an active fight, so finding a gap looked like my father had seized an opportunity. I had turned and slowly paced so that my back was to the entrance runway, presenting the least amount of victims behind me. If my father went crazy, which I believe he was going to, I could minimise the body count.

I had nothing with which to defend myself, a pair of spandex pants and taped hands. Without the gun, I could demolish him in seconds. I had nothing that could protect against bullets, though.

I looked at my father, his snarling face and knowing that I wasn't likely to leave the ring alive, I felt a calm descend upon me.

"Dad," I said calmly, letting the rage of the years go for a few minutes. The pain of the family that threw me away disappeared. I spoke in a voice of how a young child addresses his father in wonder. My father's eyes wandered the room, looking at the TV cameras, focused back on me and his eyes narrowed.

"Dad," I repeated in the same tone, spreading my arms wide but keeping my arms down and conscious of not stepping towards the crazed man with a gun. "Are you alright, Dad?" I asked calmly.

He laughed bitterly, his hand and eyes never wavering. "Really, that's your question? You're asking if I'm alright? Here, the world is watching as I threaten to end your life, and you're asking if I'm alright. Seriously, Robert, you can do better than that."

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to keep calm, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through my veins. I could see security was trying to push people back; surprisingly, there were no hysterics. The entire crowd was trying to overhear our discussion. Panic would come later with gunshots.

I had no idea where Amy was, but I hoped that she stayed out of the way.

"I guess there is not much to ask after everything, is there?" I responded to my father's question.

His face fell for a moment, "No, not really." He looked at me, his mask of pain momentarily replaced by sorrow. His voice softened. "You know, I really wanted you to get past your brother and Georgia all those years ago. I wanted you to stay in the family. We needed you, son."

I was surprised by my father calling me his son. Since that night, I had only ever heard him call me 'Robert'. I had no idea what was happening outside of the ring, the lights were bright, and I kept my focus on my father. I turned slightly to my left, letting Dad think I was letting myself get caught in memory. When I turned back to him a moment later, I had glanced at Darren, Toni and the panicked face of my wife right behind a row of security guards. I had also slightly changed my footing.

"Honestly," I tried to say soothingly. "Putting aside the emotion, all the disagreements and the pain, Dad, if you think logically, how did you think I would have reacted?" Trying to keep calm was hard. I wanted to again scream at his betrayal. He cuckolds both my brother and me, and I had a younger half-brother. I wanted to tell him what a prick he was. I wanted to blast him for breaking the family. Sure, I walked away all those years ago, but my father's actions caused our entire family to melt down.

For a couple of moments, Dad regarded me, not saying anything. He quickly glanced at the crowd and then back to me, "Honesty Robbie, setting aside everything, I understand," he paused and raised the gun. His face contorted into a snarl again, "But you betrayed the family, you betrayed me. I told you I was going to destroy you, but if I can't make you crawl in the gutter like a maggot, then I'll have to settle with killing you and making you sleep with them!"

I heard a scream in the background as Dad cocked the gun. It was Amy'svoice, the words "NO!" being yelled. It provided a momentary distraction as my father glanced toward the sound.

Without hesitation and with years of training, I exploded from my spot towards my father when the first shot rang out. My shoulder flared in pain as I sprinted, his first shot aiming for my head but going wide. I dodged to the side slightly, and my father's arm tried to track me as another shot rang out. This one caught my collarbone. Another second passed, and I leapt. A third shot rang out, my momentum in the air had the bullet catch me in the gut, but that didn't matter now. My leg was extended, aiming for its target. I wasn't stopping. The final second and a fourth shot rang out, grazing my left arm being used as a counterbalance to my extended right leg.

Brad Sr received the full force of my signature kick like his son before him. My foot connected with his head, and before anyone could take a single breath, the snarl of a man trying to murder his own son turned into surprise and shock as his face caught the full blow of kinetic energy transferred from my kick to his face.

His head led a slow flight across the ring as his body followed like a rag doll. As my father's feet left the ground, the surprise still on his face, the gun he was holding dropped from his hands. As he crashed into the side of the ring, the gun hit the ground, and I completed the touchdown from the momentum of my kick, coming into a crouch position.

The entire stadium was silent except for the echo of the gunshots. Without thinking, I stood quickly, looked at the gun, then at my father, whose eyes were wide and unfocused. The danger had passed. Then I collapsed to my knees and started vomiting blood as the entire stadium erupted in chaos.

In moments Security was in the ring, kicking the gun away from the potential reach of my father. They rolled him onto his stomach, pinning his hands behind his back. Not ten breaths later, Amy was beside me, hysterical. She was sobbing, trying to hold me even while Toni was trying to get her to hold back while Darren was trying to ease me onto my back, applying pressure to my wounds.

I was surprised that it was the shot into my shoulder and my collarbone that hurt the most. My arm stung, but the one in my gut, though bleeding the most, hurt the least.

"Relax, Robbie, the ambulance crew will be here in a moment," Darren told me calmly, though his eyes told me he was worried as he looked around for them.

Amy was again leaning over me, kissing me while swearing at me.

"You brave, fucking stupid man, what the hell were you thinking," she sobbed at me.

I tried to shrug, but I winced in pain.

"He wasn't going to stand down," I said quietly as my wife dabbed the side of my mouth, wiping up a spot of blood with the edge of her shirt. "So I tried to ensure his focus was on me and keep as many people safe as possible. I just needed to make sure you were safe."

Amy kissed me again.

"You didn't expect to leave alive, did you, my love? You were going to sacrifice yourself, weren't you?"

"Yeah," I said. I was starting to feel tired now. I could sense movement as both Police and Ambulance people made their way into the ring.

"I'm sorry Amy, but as long as you were safe and I could stop him from hurting anyone else, I saw that it was a reasonable exchange," I told her.

Through her tears, I saw a rueful smile, and she nodded.

"You're a bloody amazing man, my love," Amy replied, warm tears falling to my chest.

Amy, Darren and Toni kept talking to me for another minute as the ambulance crew set the stretcher up and began checking me out; they worked with the stadium medical crew to check my wounds and prepare me for transport.

After loading me, Stephen the Magnificent came over and placed a hand on my uninjured shoulder. He told me he was withdrawing from the fight in his heavily accented Russian accent because he had never seen a more brave and magnificent move than my final action.

I managed to stay semi-conscious in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, Amy there holding my hand the entire way. When we arrived, the hospital was ready for me, and I was immediately wheeled in for surgery. Amy gave me a final kiss, worry lining her face. I smiled and told her I would see her soon.

I awoke sore and stiff two days later. The surgery had been successful in removing all three bullets. Fortunately, the gutshot wasn't as bad as it could have been. The gun was a low calibre then limited its power. The gut bullet had been lodged in my intestine, but they were able to repair the damage. My shoulder was going to be a challenge. The bullet had fractured my collarbone where it struck. That would take time to heal. My arm where the fourth bullet was bandaged and itchy.

Overall I felt lucky to be alive.

Amy was there when I woke up, and our reunion was tearful. I felt like I would suffocate from her kisses or drown from her tears as I woke; she smiled playfully and then slapped me when I told her that, causing me to wince, which upset her again.

While the doctors checked me over, Amy called Toni and let them know I was awake, Daren and Toni were looking after the kids, and with the doctor's approval, they would all come and see me tomorrow morning.

I'd awoken around lunchtime, so the rest of the afternoon was tests and catching up on the fallout of what I now knew was the last fight I would ever do.

Since the entire confrontation was live through sports TV, reporters, daytime television shows, news and commentary shows, everyone was going insane. Apparently, I had become some type of heroic icon to those that had struggled with their family around the world. In three separate countries, current affairs shows were running stories on me, the sordid history of my family, and anything they could find on me. There was a gaggle of reporters camped outside the hospital waiting for news.

Amy had hired private security through ALRO for the family and guards at ALRO Homes. Since I was already known, thanks to my previous fights, everyone was in a frenzy to learn more about me.

My father had been marched out in handcuffs moments after the ambulance crews wheeled me out on a stretcher. He had been charged with attempted murder, and George, who happened to be in the crowd at the fight, already had the legal wheels turning. Brad Sr was currently in isolation, as yesterday, one of the other prisoners took exception to him harming me and proceeded to beat him in their shared cell.

The other challenge we had was an end to Amy's anonymity as CEO of ALRO. While Amy was never quite hiding, as the wife of one of the most famous people on the planet, it didn't take the media long to connect all the dots. Amy had her marketing team release a statement about our history, the founding of ALRO & ALRO Homes, as well as a request for privacy while her husband recovered from the grievous wounds inflicted. When other sports celebrities worldwide echoed the sentiment, most reporters took a respectful step back, waiting to hear something.

I was in the hospital for nine days. I could have been released home for bed rest after five. However, the doctors wanted to ensure I wouldn't tear my stitches or be hounded by the media.

When I got home, it was with strict instructions that I was to minimise movement and bed rest was paramount. After two days at home, I was going insane with no movement. Amy would only let me get out of bed to go to the bathroom or shower. The latter she always insisted on helping me with, so it wasn't all bad. At least I had a great view of the ocean from our home.

It was interesting being the celebrity of the moment. I was used to being reported on as a fighter. However, the notoriety I received as the world watched me take bullets while destroying my father was a level of fame I would be happy to have fade sooner rather than later.

After a week at home, I was doing much better; my doctor told me I could move around again, and my gut wound was healing well. The wound on my arm had mended, and while sore still, my shoulder and collarbone injuries were also recovering, though the doctors made me wear a sling.

Amy and I had numerous requests from media worldwide, big US talk shows wanted to interview us, bloggers were writing articles, and we had even received requests from three Hollywood studios to do moves or a television series about my life. It was all a little surreal.

My life had been on a dramatic trajectory since I came home early that Friday evening. I reflected on another Friday evening as I sat alone on our balcony. My drink of choice, a Kraken and coke in my hand. I was staring out over the ocean, and I could see a storm brewing over the mountain ranges to the left, the dark clouds heavy with rain and hints of sheet lighting flighting throughout the entire horizon as the sun faded quickly. The storm would hit us in around half an hour, but up until then, I had a great view to appreciate the beauty of the storm.

I felt movement beside me, and Amy's hand slipped into mine as she took the seat beside me, her drink in hand.

"You okay there, baby?" she asked.

"Yeah, just reflective," was my reply.

She nodded her head.

"We've been through a lot, haven't we?" she asked, somehow knowing my contemplation.

"It was a Friday night, a lot like this, when everything started to happen," I said to my wife. "I don't know if I ever told anyone about it, but that Friday night, I had just been through a storm on the flight home like the one coming over now. That night, as I walked down the street away from my parents as the storm passed over the Gold Coast, I thought my life was over as the rain started pouring.

Amy nodded again, taking a sip of her drink.

"I mean," I continued, watching the storm roll over the mountain range. "The people I trusted most in the entire world had just told me that I had to get over the fact of a cheating wife and didn't give a shit about what I was feeling."

"What about now?" Amy asked, sipping her drink.

I smiled, I pointed over at the storm as lightning flashed in the clouds, and we could see the shadow of rain begin to fall.

"I have a different perspective. That night, as the rain fell, it started the process of washing the dirt away from my life. If I had accepted what my family wanted to do, I wouldn't have the love I have around me today.

"Yes, I lost a mother, father, brother, sister and wife that night. But out of that, I gained a soulmate I got to marry." Amy smiled at me, "I got to travel the world, I have two amazing kids, and I have fought on the international stage. I've done things I would never have dreamed of.

"Yeah, there has been pain," I said as I rolled my shoulder, feeling the wince of pain from my fractured collarbone. "But Amy, my love. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world if it meant I didn't get to have you or the kids in my life."

We chatted about the past for the next hour as we watched the storm roll in, enjoying the show. We even stayed out on the balcony as it broke over the house, Willam came out sitting on Amy's lap, and Toni, who was staying with us with Darren, brought little Sarah out while Darren brought Carla out. By the time we went inside, all of us were laughing and soaked to the bone.

After showers and some hot chocolate all around, we got the kids settled, then retired ourselves. In bed, Amy and I snuggled as we listened to the storm, watching the occasional flash of lighting through our bedroom window. I'd say it was around two in the morning when I woke to the feeling of my wife inhaling my cock, she was gently sucking me as the rain outside continued to fall, and I maneuvered her womanhood over my face and pulled her down to me gently licking her moist folds as she continued to apply gentle pressure to my shaft.

Even after two children, my wife was a beautiful woman. I enjoyed the feeling of her wetness on my tongue and the moan she made when my tongue teased her clit. She was trying hard to put no pressure on my shoulder, spreading her thighs wide, but that opened her further to my ministrations, and she was soaking wet within minutes. After a few minutes of mutual stimulation, she gently turned around and sank onto my shaft, grinding herself and grinning at me. In turn, I brought my hands to her ample bosom, and she lent down a little, so I could cup her without strain while continuing her gyrations.

We must have stayed like that for almost fifteen minutes. There was no rush for release, no push of pressure that caused us to erupt. In the end, Amy had a very small and gentle release as I flooded her womb. The gentleness of our lovemaking reinforced my love for this woman who took a chance with a wounded man.

"I love you, Robbie Other," she whispered as we fell asleep later.

The following year was a whirlwind. Amy and I hired a publicist as well as an Agent to handle the media. We became the darling child within the media, both of us having to stand back from our executive positions within ALRO and ALRO Homes. We hired well and maintained a place on the boards of both companies. However, just by association, both companies flourished.

We also had a permanent security detail now as well. Almost anywhere we went, we were recognised. For about six months after getting out of the hospital, Paparazzi were everywhere, and our photos often turned up in gossip mags and online blogs. We learnt quickly to mind our surroundings. The largest issue was that both of us got propositioned regularly. Often a woman offering me a dalliance would do so right in front of Amy. The first couple of times, Amy just about tore their arms and legs off, wanting to beat them over the head until they were bloody stumps. But security stepped in, and over time, we developed ways to gently move the person away and thank them for their interest but deny them their desire. Amy's incident in New Zealand years ago taught us that.

One day, It surprised me when I received a letter from Joanna out of the blue. I must admit I felt a little uneasy about communication with my sister. I know I told her I had forgiven her, but forgiving what she did and wanting to be in the same room as her were two different things.

In the letter, she conveyed her sympathies and sorrow for the destruction of our family. She told me that she was finding herself in Melbourne and again apologised for her role in everything. She also let me know if I ever needed a witness in the trial against Dad, she would be firmly on my side.

Speaking of my father, he was sentenced to twenty-five years in a medium-security prison. It was actually the same prison as Brad Jr was in. I think you can understand that I have never visited either of them.

William and Sarah were growing quickly, and I was happy that as they moved from infants to toddlers, they were with us everywhere we went. Following the advice of our publicist, we went on a world tour. We sat on a couple of the big talk shows, talking about our history without criticising my family overmuch. We spoke through my fighting career along with how we both dealt with the shooting. We also reached an agreement with one of the studios to do a small mini-series around our story. It was to be called "The Nuclear Family". When it was released, it became one of the highest-grossing dramas of the year. Everyone fell in love with a man standing on his morals and finding his soul mate.