Post by Ghost Spike on May 25, 2018 12:56:29 GMT
Before this tag team world cup was even announced, the Age of Gods laid claim to this company. We put the entire roster on notice, and we struck down your symbol. The beacon of hope, the pedestal of “good hard working innocent men” a man who sat upon a throne of lies. I could sit here and talk about Andrew Jacobsen for hours, his lies, his corruption, the true shade of his soul….but I don’t need to. You see, God and myself, we took down Andrew, the mightiest amongst you…
Where has he been since then?
Oh sure, the “Masters of a Thousand Holds” tried to band together to fight for everything that is good, bland, dull, and boring, right? That worked out so well….I mean, Andrew is a phenomenal athlete, but how do you expect to do anything with the world’s heaviest anchor tied around your leg? He needs to learn that, I mean….
Jayson did, didn’t he Tristan?
Even the combined power of Roberto Verona and Cable Arcane wasn’t enough to take down the Age of Gods. You see, it doesn’t matter how skilled you think you are, it doesn’t matter how much pull you have backstage, because at the end of the day? We have more. We have more skill, we have more power, we have more experience, we have more desire…
We simply have more.
Angle Blake and Spike Kane have defined what it means to be a professional wrestler for at least a decade. Two sides of the same coin, and we’ve never, ever, seen eye to eye, nowhere near as much as we do now. You all thought that we were scary on our own, you all thought that we were intimidating on our own….but now?
The so-called Saints of Bourbon Street….a second chance hope, a whiffed chanced coming back to try and chase that fairy tale dream. This will be your toughest match in your entire career, it’ll be the one you tell your grandkids every time they come to visit you. About that one time the spotlights truly shone down, as you faced off against two men, the likes of which will never be seen in this industry again, and you played your part in a massacre, as they dominated you, and went on to win the glory of the tag team world cup, just like they promised they would. You, much like the Scottish football team, were just happy to be there. Happy for the spotlight, happy for the payday, happy for the chance to make a memory…..as they broke you, live on television.
Saints…..it’s funny, because do you want to know something….brothers?
Even God can’t save you.
Where has he been since then?
Oh sure, the “Masters of a Thousand Holds” tried to band together to fight for everything that is good, bland, dull, and boring, right? That worked out so well….I mean, Andrew is a phenomenal athlete, but how do you expect to do anything with the world’s heaviest anchor tied around your leg? He needs to learn that, I mean….
Jayson did, didn’t he Tristan?
Even the combined power of Roberto Verona and Cable Arcane wasn’t enough to take down the Age of Gods. You see, it doesn’t matter how skilled you think you are, it doesn’t matter how much pull you have backstage, because at the end of the day? We have more. We have more skill, we have more power, we have more experience, we have more desire…
We simply have more.
Angle Blake and Spike Kane have defined what it means to be a professional wrestler for at least a decade. Two sides of the same coin, and we’ve never, ever, seen eye to eye, nowhere near as much as we do now. You all thought that we were scary on our own, you all thought that we were intimidating on our own….but now?
The so-called Saints of Bourbon Street….a second chance hope, a whiffed chanced coming back to try and chase that fairy tale dream. This will be your toughest match in your entire career, it’ll be the one you tell your grandkids every time they come to visit you. About that one time the spotlights truly shone down, as you faced off against two men, the likes of which will never be seen in this industry again, and you played your part in a massacre, as they dominated you, and went on to win the glory of the tag team world cup, just like they promised they would. You, much like the Scottish football team, were just happy to be there. Happy for the spotlight, happy for the payday, happy for the chance to make a memory…..as they broke you, live on television.
Saints…..it’s funny, because do you want to know something….brothers?
Even God can’t save you.
---
THEN
“Michael?”
The voice rung through his head, half asleep Spike struggled to find the lamp and turned it on, swinging his legs to the side of the bed. The house is noticeably dark, moonbeams try to penetrate the curtains but barely make a dent. Spike looks tired, he looks dishevelled, but as he looks up in the mirror he sees a reflection of himself - clean cut, smartly dressed, with a smart overcoat. The image doesn’t shock Spike, he knows exactly who he is talking to.
“Michael….we need to talk.”
Spike: Does it really have to be at this time of night dude? Come on man. I know you don’t sleep, but I need to. I….like...I really need to.
The reflection’s head drops a little, a glimmer of sadness.
“It is because of me that you feel this way. Michael…..it is time.”
Spike rises to his feet in a humph, throwing his arms in the air, and letting out a loud sigh.
Spike: For crying out loud man. I’m sick of this routine, we go back and forth, back and forth…..every time we always come to the same conclusion.
“But you are dying…”
Spike stops for a moment, he folds his arms raising his left hand to rub his beard. He looks right at the reflection who simply hesitates.
Spike: I promised you I’d help you find your father. After everything I’ve done in this life, it’s the one good thing I can do. The only thing that would ever actually be considered good….rather than selfish….
The reflection places a hand against the mirror, staring intently at Spike.
“I never intended for this to happen. The battles you’ve found yourself in. The lives you’ve lost. I came to you in a moment of grief, and now…..my friend, I must leave you in a moment of grief, because if I do not…..you will not last the year.”
Spike turns to confront the mirror, slamming his fist into it, as he does the mirror cracks and the reflection breaks into several different images of Spike. A Spike with long bleach blonde hair, a Spike with matted long brown hair, a Spike with a clean shaven head, a Spike with short black hair, and the Spike standing before us, but the smartly dressed image disappears.
Spike: LEAVE ME NOW!? I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR!
“Yes. You do.”
Spike: I’VE LOST ANOTHER SON! HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT TO ME!? NO MATTER WHAT I DO, EVERYTHING SHITS ON ME!
He drops to his knees, his fists and even his forearms, shaking with rage.
“I cannot in good conscience allow you to forfeit your life on this fool’s errand. I will find God myself Michael, you…..you must heal, both inside and out.”
A bright glow spreads around Spike as he kneels in front of the broken mirror, the glow reaches out and a silhouette of large angelic wings can be seen. Spike’s eyes glow blue, before fading. He sobs for a moment, burying his face into his hands.
“I leave you a gift, Michael. I have healed you…..now go to her. She is the light in the abyss, your light, in your abyss….and she means so much more than you could ever know.”
Then just like that…..the room goes dark again, and Spike Kane kneels on the floor, feet away from him the Man of Steel belt catches the light from the moon and gains Spike’s notice, he focuses on it and his sobbing stops, he simply clenches his fists….and we fade.
---
I’ve been listening to what the masses have been saying about this whole tag team world cup thing. People praising the BSS for making it to the final. People claiming they’re the “only tag team” in IWF, so they deserve their spot by right.
I listen to mass ignorance on a daily basis.
Everyone is so quick to forget, that God and myself were a team before we were entered into this thing. Everyone is always so quick to heap praise on others because they just can’t bring themselves to actually admit that we are right. That we deserve the respect and adulation we demand. The Bourbon Street Saints made it to the final, good for them, that IS an achievement. The Age of Gods? They made it to the world cup final without losing a match.
But nobody wants to talk about that, do they?
Does it matter how, or why we even got here? Do people care? Or was it such a foregone conclusion that we would make it to the final that everybody had already expected it? I mean, I know we did. I know the Age of Gods expected to be here, but did you all? Did you actually listen, because it didn’t look like it, and it most certainly didn’t sound like it. No, everyone has been too busy turning the blind eye, trying to hide from what is happening. Everyone is trying to turn the spotlight away, because they fear what they cannot defeat. Everyone would rather praise a bunch of green idiots who fluked their second chance match after being knocked out, than understanding the truth…
Dominance always prevails.
Shine the light, on your tag team prowess. On how you’re the “only tag team” on how you’re the only ones who are JUST a tag team. Don’t let anybody else’s credibility dampen that. Don’t let the fact that I have held the >>IWF<< Tag Team Championships, alongside Rob Diamond, as InFamous…..and we dominated SO MUCH, we went undefeated….
So now there are no tag titles.
Don’t worry about the fact that I am a twenty…..nine….time….tag team champion. Let that sink in for a minute boys, I know you young bloods have a pretty damn short attention span. Maybe I’ll make some mobile app that comes up with an ad every thirty seconds to remind you once you’ve taken a selfie….twenty fucking nine times. Have you even had twenty nine matches? Between you? I know, I know, it doesn’t matter how much experience you lack right? You have the hunger to make up for it. You’ve got that desire, that chip on your shoulder…..now, what, for one moment, makes you think we don’t still have that?
What makes you think you’re special?
Your bond? I’ll give you that, hands down. The two of you care for each other, and that is plain for us all to see. A lot of people would agree that caring is an integral part of a tag team, and how they operate. You two trust each other explicitly, you know that you have each others backs without question. The thing is, I know this business, I know how easily it corrupts people, and that trust? That bond?
It’s only going to make things hurt so much more when that knife is plunged into someones back.
So don’t get me wrong Saints, I respect your abilities, I really do. I have an eye for talent, always have, I’ve tried to nurture it in the past. Hell, I train people as well as going out there and leading by example. I train the next generation of IWF wrestlers at the performance center, and I have my own school too. So don’t think that I’m just looking past you, because I’m not. I recognize you both, do you hear that? I get it. You two deserve to be in this final, the only problem is…
You just don’t stand a chance against the combined powers of God and myself.
A part of me wishes it was a different story, that you two could have your fairytale ending - Angel knows - there’s been enough people who have had their fairytale moments against me, from Davey Ortega, to Devlin Raine. From Lance Ryan, to Joe Everyman. Even the likes of Johnny Gillmen and Nighthawk have TRIED to get those moments out of, but do you know what they all have in common boys? Every single one of them?
It never made a difference.
Where the fuck are they now?
Devlin Raine’s mouth wrote a cheque he couldn’t cash, Nighthawk has always been a poor excuse for a “master of a thousand holds”, Gilmore? Please...like I need to say anything. Ortega? Ryan? Everyman? Gone. They’ve hung up their boots, moved on…..but there’s still one constant Nick….Nate..am I getting through to you yet? There’s still one continuing thread.
ME!
The IWF has never seen a team as powerful and dominant as the Age of Gods, this tag team world cup….was pretty much made for us. Created by design to showcase our dominance, to show the entire roster that we are not playing games. That we mean business, and nobody….not The Pack, not the Masters of a Thousand Holds, not any mix-match team, and certainly not some so-called “saints” can stand in our way.
Mine eyes have seen the glory.
The Age of Gods marches on.
Well howdy there pardner.