Post by Ghost Spike on Mar 25, 2018 16:56:35 GMT
Sacrifice….
It’s a word that gets thrown around in this business a lot. The things people have had to sacrifice to get where they are who and what they’ve left behind. Everyone has their own story, their own tale of how they got here, of what it took to make it to the big time…..everyone has their own take…
But nobody has sacrificed more than me to be here.
I toot my own horn, I’ve never shied away from that. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, and what I’ve overcome to be here. I’m proud of the things I’ve done, and who I’ve proven wrong over the last two decades. You see, you people don’t get it….I was never supposed to make it. I was not supposed to be a superstar. I was never supposed to be a household name, let alone a hall of famer. I was never supposed to transcend that “xtreme” moniker, I was labelled, pushed into a box and forever expected to stay there, because in some small minded assholes brain?
I was just a hardcore wrestler.
Over the years, I’ve proven booker after booker wrong. I’ve shone brighter than the supposed “best wrestlers” in the business, and I’ve had more moments that will live on in infamy than almost anyone in this business ever could have. I’ve toyed with the fans, as well as the boys in the back, I’ve probably had more complaints filed against me than any other superstar in the history of this beautiful sport…..but I’m still here, people like Roberto Verona still employ me. People like Leonard Fox still employed me, people like Mongo the Destroyer still employed me…..why?
Because I’m a fucking cash cow.
I bring main stream attention. I bring fans, whether they want to cheer me, or they want to see me get my head kicked in, they show up in droves. So I get to go out there and do exactly whatever the fuck I want, and do you know what? I deserve it….
Because of my sacrifice.
Wrestling has given so much to me, but in the same vein, it has taken so much from me. MY family, my sons, my loves, my brother, anything I love….anything I care about dies….the only thing that is persistent is my wrestling career. So can I really be persecuted for putting it first? When I’m dead and buried, will my estranged son and daughter mourn for me? Not fucking likely…
But the fans?
They’ll remember.
They’ll remember Spike Fucking Kane.
The God of Xtreme.
---
Everything changed after that day. They way I was treated by the other kids, by the staff, even the catering staff. You wanted some extra chips? Sure thing Mr Kane. It was like something out of a movie.The downside was, it meant more fighting, more blood, more bruises, more trips to the emergency room with stories like “falling down the stairs” and “walking into a door” the same kind of shit you’d expect from a domestic abuse case, but then….it kind of was that, wasn’t it?
Conrad Jones was Christopher Kane all along.
After a while it became kind of obvious that he knew, that I knew, you know? He kept putting me in more and more “prestigious” fights and it seemed like he’d gotten the wrestling bug, started making things more and more like wrestling. I guess it’s the closest thing I ever got to basic training. I don’t really remember much about how I got out of there, it’s kind of a blur, I know I hit him. Hit him as hard as I fucking could and just ran, ran as far as I could for as long as I could. I slept rough for a few days, stole fruit and bread from the market stalls just to survive. It was way before the days of coffee shops and being able to sit in there for hours on end after buying just a coffee, or a tea. It wasn’t long before I ended up with the bikers, and slowly but surely, found myself in the backyard wrestling trade.
The so-called “training” helped after all.
I remember meeting Kronic. I remember him talking up his WDWF and about how great it was going to be. About how he and I were “underused talent” in WDW and that the sky was the limit. Of course I didn’t know any better, I didn’t know this business was full of sharks, full of politicians, but I learned pretty damn quickly. Once I was under contracted he pulled me in and I remember that meeting so well, I’ll never forget it, he told me exactly what he thought of me, exactly what my position in the company was. Labelled with the bullshit “Bonesmasher” gimmick, I was “just a hardcore wrestler” and in his mind hardcore wrestling was “below the womens division” because that’s the kind of misogynistic prick he was. Don’t get me wrong, back then? Women’s wrestling wasn’t anything like it was now, but part of that was because of people like him….and I was relegated to being below the likes of bra and panties matches….fuck, I was furious.
I was determined to prove him wrong.
I remember doing a show, it was some program with a guy called Insane Fan. He was supposed to jump the barrier, obsessed with me and wind up being my tag team partner, there was an American bloke there, he liked what he saw. Despite WDWF moving away from the whole backyard thing for a more polished product….this guy, Little Simon Dynasty, he offered me a job, a job in the United States of America for EBCWF The Extreme Backyard Championship Wrestling Federation. Of course I fucking took it. Get out of this shithole job, get out of this shithole country, get as far away from Conrad fucking Jones as I could….I was off to America baby…
The land of opportunity.
I took Simon’s deal, but I asked for only one thing. Legitimate training. I was fine smashing glass tubes over peoples heads, wrapping myself in barbed wire, and lighting myself on fire…..but I wanted to be more. I was determined to be more. Simon took the deal, on one stipulation; he didn’t want the appy smiling family friendly “Bonesmasher” nah….he wanted “Spike” and he wanted me to be the meanest, sickest, son of a bitch on his roster, because, as I distinctly remember him telling me…..those are the guys people remember. So that day, I swore to myself, I’d do anything I could to get over, I’d do anything I could to get better, travel the world, learn as much as I possibly could, and no matter what….no matter WHAT….make sure that I would be remembered….
I remember that now, as clear as day, as I look into her eyes. Her neon blue hair set against the darkness. Her eyes burrowing into me. I know she’s angry, I know she’s hurt, and I know she’s disappointed in me, but how to I express this to her? I love her so much, I love her more than I’ve loved anyone in this life, but she doesn’t know. How do I tell her? This….
This is my last chance….
I just don’t know how to break that to her.
---
By now you’ve probably had enough talk of who is going to win, and why their words mean more than someone else’s, right? You’ve got the likes of Mike Laszlo spouting their rhetoric, the likes of Dean Harper and their vitriol, and of course the “dark horses” like Devlin Rain, Nighthawk, and Pax Stormcrow poking their heads out of obscurity. The truth is, we all know there’s only a handful of men with the skill and the ability to come out the other side of this match with the victory.
One of those men is Andrew Jacobsen.
Why am I giving him the props? Because he’s done it before. At my expense too. Yeah, Andrew’s pretty pissed, and he’s determined to stop me from winning, even if it means he doesn’t win either. Which, in my mind? Is pretty narrow minded. Surely he’d want to win, right? Want to truly earn that rematch with Angel? Isn’t that the boy scout way? Or have I really got under Captain America’s skin and begun to corrupt him like only Spike Kane can? It’s no secret that I single handedly brought out the best in Andrew Jacobsen, he even admitted it himself. If it weren’t for Spike Kane? Andrew Jacobsen never would have won the Imperial Championship, hell he never would have won the Roulette.
The same could be said for Devlin Raine, in a fashion.
If it weren’t for Spike Kane, Devlin Raine never would have had his moment in the spotlight at Night of the Immortals. You see, all these “heroes” of yours? They only stand up and make themselves count when there’s a worthy cause to fight against. They rise to fight the big bad, why? Because it’s something they can make a name off of. It’s something, someone, they can use to catapult themselves into the limelight with. What happened when Spike Kane turned a new leaf? Huh?
Devlin faded into obscurity.
Andrew got more and more boring.
These kinds of people? They aren’t who they proclaim to be. They’re fake, they’re liars, they use you and your emotions to ride them to the top for their own selfish gains. Yeah, I manipulate people, yeah I hurt people, yeah I’m basically a cunt….but at least I’m honest about it. You might hate me, but at least I stand up to those reasons as to why, allow you to feel those feelings, and give you something to fight back against. I don’t lay in the shadows for weeks or months on end, and then pop up when something comes along for me to make a name for myself no, no no no….that’s not how Spike Kane works.
I make a name for myself week after week.
It’s those supposed “heroes” of IWF bide their time, that disappear from your TV screens for weeks or months on end only to show up as some kind of supposed badass ready to put the big bad nasty Spike Kane down once and for all. Threatening to end me, threatening to take my title away, threatening to do everything they can to stop me from winning. If that means they don’t win themselves, or they walk away from the company if they don’t win the roulette themselves….but the fact of the matter is this….they proclaim to be the “good guys” they proclaim to be the “heroes”...
But who is the one here week after week, show after show, breaking his fucking back for this company!?
I’ll be fucking frank right here…
IWF WOULD NOT EXIST WITHOUT SPIKE KANE!
I have carried this company on my back time after time. When the failed experiement that was Joe Everyman bailed, who stepped up? When Lex Sense took his ball and went home? Who stepped up? When Davey Ortega couldn’t handle the pressure? Who stepped up!? When Mike Laszlo proved to be a one trick pony? Who stepped up!? When the Council tried to wage war on IWF? Who stepped up? When the Pack tried to replicate what so many factions tried in the past?
WHO
STEPPED
UP!?
It certainly wasn’t Andrew Jacobsen, glad handing everyone backstage. Chumming it up with the likes of Xavier Cross while proclaiming to stand for truth, justice, and the American way. It certainly wasn’t Devlin Raine, who was...I don’t know, in some love hate relationship with Dean Harper, when he managed to get booked. It CERTAINLY wasn’t Mike Laszlo….because it simply didn’t benefit the piece of shit. It was me. Time and time again. When IWF needed me? I was there, when IWF was failing? I was there. When IWF’s outlook was bleak!?
I WAS FUCKING THERE!
So throw your barbs at me peasants. Tell me how much of a badass you are, make your idle threats, and tell the world how you’re going to put an end to “old man Spike” like the hundreds of people before you have done, because soon enough you’ll realise what every single person who has come before you has…..there are hundreds of you…
There is only one Spike Kane.
...and I’m still fucking here.
I look at what I’ve done, and what is left in front of me. I know I’m not going to win the Joker in the Pack, I know I’m not going to win the Heir to the Throne, because Spike Kane is too “big” a name for those, but the Roulette? ….that is something I want, that is something I need, and despite what everyone out there would have you believe? Not a single one of you has what it takes to put me out to pasture, and though you might boast and shout it from the rooftops? You’ve had plenty of chances. I’ve never backed down from a fight. Like I tell Gillmen every other week on Twitter, I’m not a hard man to find. Just like at High Stakes, during the Roulette, I will not be a hard man to find, I’m going to be smack bang in the middle of that ring holding this company up, DEFENDING my title, and doing what I do better than anybody else in this game…..being the last man standing, outlasting you all, and when the dust settles when that final entrant is thrown over the top rope? I’ll be proclaimed the victor and STILL the IWF Extreme Champion and everyone will have no choice but to accept it, to bow down, on your knees, before you God…
And all…
BLOODY!
HAIL!!!!
Well howdy there pardner.