Walking through an electronics store, in middle America is a masked man. The man is watching as people browse for things, until he sees me buying a camera. It's not even a fancy camera, just a regular camera. I'd be slightly disturbed had this not been the town that it is, and the times we're living in. These AntiFa guys are protesting and rioting everywhere, and all of them in masks. You get used to things like this, wish we didn't, but we do. The man is slightly taller than I am, and lean. Aside from his mask, he's wearing a black turleneck, black jeans, with black boots, and black leather gloves. This guy probably wanted to riot and destroy the store or loot it. He slips something in my pocket as I'm busy paying the guy for the camera, then slides away. I imagine this will be the last time I see him, so I ignore it and head out to my car. I wish I was right about not seeing him again, he's out there looking at my car, waiting.

"Dude, can I help you?" I manage to get out. He responds by pointing to my pocket, and saying nothing. Switching the bag to my left hand, I use my right to dig into the pocket, and retrieve his note. I read it, it's hand typed and simply says:

"My name is Kropotkin, and I need a camera man. I don't speak to the public, as such you'll need to be my voice when I need to say things. Will you do this?"

This Kropotkin nods to me as I read over his words, which gives me a slight chill.

"Hold on, why don't you talk? And why do you need a camera man?" This response is a gesture to turn the note over. There's more written on the back.

"I am a professional wrestler as of today. I must allow my fans to see what I do. Speaking detracts from the cause. Speaking takes away from my actions."

"Interesting. And why me? What makes me special?" He just shrugs and turns away. I guess I'm in. "Fine, Kropotkin, I'm in. My name is William, by the way. William Castro." He turns back, and nods at me. Three steps and I'm at my car, I left it unlocked, and demonstrate this by opening the back door, and putting my bag in. Kropotkin shakes his head, and grabs the camera box. It's opened and set up on my dashboard before I know it. He points it at himself as he straps himself in my passenger seat. I strap myself in the driver's seat, and turn the car on. Hoping I'll get some information on where we're going soon. He just points left, and I assume that's where I'm going. We pull out and head left, he then directs me by hand signals to his motel room. I follow him up to his room, it's spotless, the only things out of place are a book on the nightstand, it's old and well read. He picks it up, and hands it to me.

"The Conquest of Bread? By Piotr Kropotkin? Huh, was this a relative of yours?" He shakes his head. The next book he hands me is in German. Das Kapital, by Karl Marx. I guess he reads a lot, since both of them are well read, and dog eared through out. "Do you want me to read these?" A nod to answer my question. I wonder if I'll ever hear him speak. I slide Kapital in my pocket and hold the other one in my free hand as he picks up a bag, and gestures for me to leave the room. We're back at the car loading it up, and he hands me a piece of paper. It just says Anaheim on it. Guess that's where we're going. The drive is long, and silent, as he just reads a book the entire time. If this is the feed he's supposed to show the people watching, it's going to be a very slow one.

In California we find a place to stay, and check in. It's not a nice room, but it'll do. Kropotkin goes into the bathroom to shower, and I lay on the bed reading the book he gave me. It's long winded and political. I'm trying to understand it, but it's not my strong suit. "Hey, Krop. What's this book about?" I yell to the bathroom for him, hoping he'll answer. Instead I'm greeted with a man in red pajamas covering his entire body, and that same mask covering his face. He stares at me, and gestures with his hands, I guess this is sign language. Which I don't speak. "I don't speak sign language I don't understand." This causes him to retrieve a notebook and write something. When he finishes he hands it to me.

"The book is important to the understanding of modern Socialist ideals. You'll need to be well versed in them as we we move forward, as they play a role in my life, and my speeches. Your speeches. The speeches you will give for me. I do hope you can understand the books, and learn the value of what it is we do. I'm going to sleep, and we will film tomorrow." As I've been reading, Kropotkin has laid himself out a spot on the floor to sleep, with a single pillow and a thin blanket. "Do you need more than that? You can sleep in the bed, the chair is fine for me." He just shakes his head, and goes to sleep. I lay awake all night reading the book, it's hard, but important. The sun eventually shines through the window, and I manage to doze off.

Some time later, and several weird dreams included, I wake up to find that Kropotkin has gone out and gotten some food for us. He's sitting in the chair reading, and there's a half eaten box of donuts on the table, which I finish off before showering and walking out. "Did you sleep well?" I manage to ask, as I pull my shirt over my head. He nods politely when I lower the shirt, and then with his palm up he gestures to me, in what I assume is a question of how I slept. "Yeah, I slept ok. I've been reading that book, it's ok. I'm having trouble understanding it. But, I'm going to keep working on it." He gives a slight nod that indicates his approval. He gestures to his camera, which has been facing him the entire time. I walk over and pick it up, noting the script next to it. "You want me to read this? While I film you?" He nods politely again. "Ok. I'll do that, just let me get set up. Want me to set the camera to film you sitting there and me next to you?" He nods, and brushes off the chair. I set it up, and walk over beside him holding the script. A quick cough clears me throat, and I begin to speak.

"Hello, I am William Castro speaking for Kropotkin, and I'd like to discuss something with you. On Saturday, the 4th of March, 2017, Kropotkin will enter into the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, and he will face off with Bobby Blackcoat. This will be a standard wrestling match with one fall determining the winner. The winner, of course, will be Kropotkin. Now, Bobby this is not a knock on you, or an insult to your skill. Just a fact. Kropotkin will walk out of the arena as the winner, and move on to face the champion for the belt at a later date. This is backed up by the words of Karl Marx, From Each according to his ability, and to each according to his need. Now, Bobby, it is from your ability to lay down and be pinned that we draw this conclusion, and to Kropotkin's need to win in order to secure a shot at the title that we verify the conclusion. Don't feel bad, because Kropotkin assures me, in writing, that you'll be allowed a chance to compete for his title, after he wins it, should you prove a fitting challenge. He believes you'll do well in your assigned job of laying down and submitting to him. Please, before you react to this video in anger, consider that Kropotkin has not come at you in anger, nor has he come to you with rudeness. Simple pragmatic thoughts, and a good praxis put forth. If you choose to ignore this and react angrily, he assures me that he will have no choice but to engage in proper fisticuffs with you at the time of your match. He promises that the decision to engage in fisticuffs is one you will regret. Please consider your options, and respond wisely. Do not make yourself into an embarrassment, or more of an embarrassment than you already are. And please consider the name Blackcoat, and its striking resemblance to Mussolini's military. Remember what happened to those gentlemen when they engaged a stronger force. That will be you, should you choose to react angrily. Good night"

And with that, I shut off my camera, and laid down to read.