Post by Cyrus Daniels on Sept 14, 2013 23:37:36 GMT
IWF GO! App Exclusive
09/09/13
Ohio
Bernard De Montford walks through the curtain, followed by two male Emergency Medical Technicians either side of him. Head Physician Nicole Kingsley follows closely behind, instructing her team to help him to the fitness room at the Nationwide Arena, but the stubborn Englishman is having none of it.
Bernard pushes passed them and refuses medical assistance point blank. Nicole is about to call after him, but she is side-tracked by a voice behind her.
"Nic..."
Nicole looks over her shoulder as the big man and her lover, Cyrus Daniels stumbles slowly through the curtain. She rushes back, and he throws his arm around her shoulder, walking with him. Daniels moves slowly, still feeling the effects of the shot to his groin. Thankfully, the stinging pain was beginning to dissipate. There was blood seeping slowly from a small cut across his forehead from the wild chair shot of a determined and resilient Joe Everyman. A man he had underestimated, and paid the price for.
Nicole: Please, don't be as stubborn as your mate about this, I'm gonna clean ya up, okay?
Cyrus just grimaces and nods as he allows her to help him to the back.
Cyrus Daniels stands in front of a camera, wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans and the signs of his last match in the form of a band aid across the cut on his forehead. Cyrus is also chewing a stick of gum as he smirks at the camera, a picture of arrogance in spite of looking a little worse for wear.
Well mates, here we are. Once again I don't really know if I'm bein' punished by the ol' man De Montford who is tryna find ways ta keep me n' his boy in line before we really run roughshod over his company or if I'm bein' rewarded by Roberto Verona for takin' the man who was the first Imperial Champion and showin' his Everymaniacs just how desperate their hero really is.
I'm sure everybody has an opinion on why a man like me is even in this match. If you ask Xander Famularo, he'll probably tell ya that I don't deserve ta be in this match with him because he is the undisputed Alpha Male of the company and no one can measure up ta him one on one. Once, in another time and another place, it was true and it was undisputed. It was before my time but I still heard the stories of what it was like ta stand opposite the ring from Xander Famularo. The stories of the men ya dominated in that ring were legendary at the time. Now however, we have a little problem, and it is a problem ya are either too ignorant or proud ta admit ta.
Now I'm not stupid enough ta even suggest that the time of your dominance is over, it isn't. If it were ya wouldn't be Heavyweight Champ right now, but we both know that though it may not be over, it has already peaked. Ya are still good Xander, but ya are not at the level ya once were. At the real height of your peak ya were not simply one of a small group of Juggernauts, ya were THE Juggernaut. Nobody could touch ya, few even tried, the rest just trembled when they saw ya standin' across the ring from ya, but as I say that was another time and another place entirely.
The time was 2011.
The place was New Championship Wrestling.
Unfortunately for ya though, we're neither in NCW or 2011 anymore, are we mate? This is 2013. This is IWF, and in the here and now, things are just a little bit different, for both of us, aren't they Xander? So when you go see your ol' man for advice and he tells ya all sorts of stories about how I'm nothin' ta worry about and regales ya with tales about how even as a man north of fifty he still managed ta make whippin' boys outta the Crocodile Hunter and I, I'd remind him "Hey Pops, I love ya but this ain't 2012 either". I'd take the ol' bloke's war stories with a pinch of salt mate, if I were ya, but of course, ya don't havta take my advice.
Not if ya are happy with where ya are right now, and honestly why wouldn't ya be? Ya have the gold ya set out ta get, ya have a damn sexy wife who I can only imagine must be more committed ta ya than she once was ta this business and ya have you're own gang. Life is pretty sweet if ya are Xander Famularo these days, most of the boys in the back would still step over their own mothers ta have all ya have. Do ya know why? It isn't because you're the best, it is because even at eighty-five percent, you're still better than most of them. There's a reason ya haven't operated at your peak efficiency in between those ropes for over two years, and we both know why, don't we Famularo?
It is because ya haven't needed ta.
Ya haven't needed ta be at one hundred per cent.
Ya have done just enough and that's been good enough ta overcome most challenges, hasn't it mate?
Ya are undeniably the product of some of the best genes in the business, of superior breedin', and that's why I'm lookin' forward ta bein' in the ring with ya, not ta test ya but ta test myself. I won't ask much from ya Xander, all I want is ta face the Xander of 2011, the Xander of NCW right here and now in 2013 and in IWF. I want the Xander Famularo who didn't just yap about bein' the Alpha Male every week, but just shut up n' stepped through the curtain every week ta prove it - and did it on his own. Most people watchin' right now probably think I'm stupid for askin' this of ya because they expect ya ta pound me in ta the canvas. Let 'em. This isn't about them, and I've never once claimed ta be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I have defied other people's expectations of me...
IWF's Head Physician, Dr Nicole Kingsley helps Cyrus Daniels to hop up onto the bed in the fitness room. He adjusts himself slightly to sit on it.
Nicole: Okay?
Cyrus nods. Dr Kingsley then smiles at him before turning to one of her team, a young Chinese man.
Nicole: Doctor Chang. Could you get an ice pack please?
The young man nods. Nicole then turns to the other member of her team, a young African American man.
Nicole: Ya, Doctor Willis. Get me some antiseptic ointment and some cotton swabs.
Dr Willis: Yes, Ma'am.
Daniels: Well at least now I know I'm not the only bloke ya like ta boss around...
Nicole chuckles, as her two assistants return with all the speed and efficiency she had come to expect from them.
Nicole: Thank ya. Ya two may go now. I can handle this.
The two men nod and smile at her. Dr Willis turns to his colleague as they head out of the door, Dr Chang following.
Dr Willis: Hey Chang, how about we go grab some noodles?
Dr Chang: Sounds good to me.
The rest of their conversation is beyond us as they close the door behind them, leaving Nicole and her patient alone together. Cyrus holds the ice-pack to his groin as Nicole dabs his cut lightly with a cotton swab, cleaning blood from the wound. She whispers in his ear with a smirk.
Nicole: Alone at last...
Cyrus' eyes move down to the ice-pack across his groin. Nicole follows his gaze.
Nicole: Oh, I hope that ain't too sore...
An unspoken moment passed between them as they locked eyes and a question formed in her mind.
Did he want kids? She did...one day.
She had not brought up the subject with him because she secretly feared Cyrus would be against the idea, and she didn't want to ruin whatever it was they had. She was in this for the long haul and she was patient. For now it was all about the sex, and it was enough...for now. It had been for months now, and she hadn't complained because for what it was, it was fantastic. She was confident there was more to the man she loved and to their relationship, and maybe Cyrus would eventually come around...
One day.
Daniels: I'm sure it'll be okay...all it needs is a little tender love n' care from a certain sexy little nurse...
Daniels smirks.
Nicole: Excuse me? Sexy little nurse? I'm a sexy little doctor, mate...n' don't ya bloody forget it!
Having cleaned the wound of blood, Nicole now disinfects the wound and Cyrus winces slightly in reaction to the sting. Nicole giggles.
Nicole: Serves ya right.
Nicole then gently applies the band aid before removing her plastic gloves. Setting them aside, she then cups the side of his face with one hand and looks into his eyes. In response he mirrors her, with one gloved hand as he brushes her blonde hair aside. He then firmly grabs her by her hair and pulls her in for a kiss that was as intense as his touch. After the slight recoil from his force that had become part of their passion, she surrendered just as she always did.
There is a cough which neither of them react to, being lost in the moment. There is another cough and this time Nicole opens her eyes and moves them to look in the direction from where it came. Seeing Bernard De Montford standing there, arms folded across his chest, she suddenly breaks the kiss. Cyrus turns to look at his partner who looks quite amused.
Bernard: And I thought my doctor was being too personal every time he cupped me and asked me to turn my head and cough...don't suppose I need to ask how you're feeling?
Daniels: Bloody hell mate, don't ya ever knock?
Nicole responds by grabbing one of her gloves and throwing it at Bernard, it hits him in the face and the three of them share a laugh.
Haven't I Spike?
Ya know mate, I haven't quite decided whether ya annoy me or just amuse me. Either way, ya are a classic example of somebody whose been at this way too long. How long have you been in this business now? Seventeen years...
Cyrus lets out an impressed whistle.
That's impressive, it really is, and I can take nothin' away from everythin' you've given ta this business over nearly two decades. Spending on average three hundred days of each of those seventeen years on the road, performing in the ring and dropping pipe bombs for the entertainment of all those sell out crowds around the world, it was all gonna catch up ta ya eventually. It was inevitable. Because, fame, notoriety, glory, and infamy, it all has a price. Even an infamy as great as yours.
The legendary Spike Kane.
The Master Of The Spike Impaler.
The God Of Xtreme.
It doesn't matter what they call ya. I call ya confused, a glory hog, somebody who doesn't know when ta step aside.
But as I said, it was inevitable. The mental cataracts that has clouded you're mind's eye has probably been building for years, long before I came in ta the business n' has finally begun ta settle in. Years of cuttin' promos and cuttin' down your opponents, exposin' their flaws both mental and physical n' generally scramblin' ta find the words when ya have little ta say but a lotta air time ta fill and finally its happened. You've ran your mouth for far too long that you've become numb ta your own words or perhaps ya really don't put as much thought in ta 'em as ya used ta.
Spike Kane is stuck on autopilot, and he's flyin' high, and because so many people around here like ya, respect ya and envy the mythos you've managed ta build around yaself, they just sit there dumbfounded and in awe thinkin' that after seventeen years ya have still got it - only they're wrong. They're as blinded by their own nostalgia as ya are by your own ego. Tell me Spike, is there anythin' in this business ya won't try and take credit for? When it suits ya, when ya need ta puff out your chest a bit more n' make yaself seem a bit more Billy Badass? Honestly, is there?
I stomped ya inta the canvas on my own here in IWF and I did that whilst I was still carryin' around over three hundred pounds of deadweight...n' rather than give me the credit I deserve for it, ya wanna make it all about ya. Ya wanna sit there n' tell the world that you're responsible for sparkin' my career, that without ya I'd be nothin'. Fine, mate, if that's the game we're playin' n' ya insist on bein' my salvation, then I guess ya won't mind if I go ta the well one more time n' continue ta build my career on the diminishin' flame of your storied career, will ya?
Greater blokes than me have tried ta take the torch from ya n' failed. That's not my goal. It never has been. I don't need ta take it from ya to extinguish its flame. Ya can keep your mantle n' your moniker, I want none of it. I simply wanna reduce everythin' around that mantle ta ashes n' leave just enough breath in your body ta make ya feel how far the fall from grace really is.
Why? Why not? It would amuse me though admittedly not as much as watchin' ya scramble ta find the words ta fulfill your obligations. I cannot speak for Xander but I find it funny as hell that when either Xander or myself beat someone like Stephen Kingsley or Joe Everyman, it means we're nothin' but cowards and bullies but when Infamous do it, its suddenly somethin' worth shoutin' about. Unlike the sheep ya call fans, I actually remember that it wasn't so long ago ya were milkin' the dissolution of Criminal Intent for all it was worth n' a timev when ya were honored ta step in the ring with Joey. Apparently beatin' someone only matters when ya or Rob do it, does it mate? Well, I guess they say history is written by the winners, and when you're Spike Kane, history is not only written, but rewritten, regardless of whether ya win or lose.
Tell me again about how ya suddenly have the right ta criticise anybody else's God Complex when ya have built your entire career on the premise of bein' the God of Xtreme? What does that even mean anyway? Havin' looked back at some of your matches mate, as far as I can tell it means ya have jumped off a few ladders and crashed through a few tables in your time. Wow, I'd be impressed if I wasn't so busy tryna stifle a yawn.
That's all I seem ta do these days whenever somebody mentions your name around me, Spike. Fact is mate, whether ya wanna admit it or not, the days of ya bein' the man on your own are well n' truly over. Ya may be a little too starry-eyed right now because ya think the Imperial Championship is well within ya reach, but we both know the truth, don't we mate? When Rob ain't there ta watch ya back, ta preserve what little shine remains on your apple n' still make ya look good, ya fall apart...
I have proven it before.
And so has Lex Sense.
And I see no reason why I can't do it again this week.
Tell me Spike, how would ya feel if I just left enough of ya for Lex ta repeat history next week? Will ya finally concede that he and I are the newest monsters ta walk among the ruins of giants and Gods in this business? Or will ya continue ta tell me I'm just a tag team guy all whilst ignorin' the blissful irony of the turn your career has taken? Ya came inta this business as a tag team guy Spike, n' now months later you're still a tag team guy. The fact that ya have managed ta hold onta that tag team title for as long as ya have only means that it'll be a lot easier ta console yaself when Lex takes your last shot at glory from ya next Sunday. But then, that's nothin' new is it mate?
That precious fifteen pounds of gold has already consoled ya through so much hasn't it? Tell me, how many of your tears have evaporated in the golden sheen of that belt after Alysson Gardner left ya? How many more will that leather strap dry after the God of Xtreme is proven ta be just a man, every bit as broken as the fanciful dreams of recapturin' his glory days one more time he's nuturin' in the splinters of his fractured mind?
Cyrus then points to the band aid across his forehead as he speaks.
Ya have been lucky ta get ya shot Spike, just as lucky as your good friend Joe was last week when he got this shot. Savour it for this is a reminder ta both of us that even the old dogs and the underdogs get lucky enough ta draw first blood from the monsters they face sometimes. Ya will realise, sooner than ya think, that drawin' blood from n' killin' the monsters ya face are entirely different propositions, mate.
Cyrus lowers his hand.
Lex and Bernie will have the best seats in the house as they watch Xander and I bounce ya around the ring for ten minutes before makin' the old guard a non factor in a real clash between fighters of a new breed n' a new generation, n' then ya can look back at your ol' mate Jake n' finally understand why he doesn't do this anymore. He doesn't have a place in this business anymore. When ya walk down the ramp on Monday soakin' in the cheers with him by your side, take a moment ta ask him why he really came back. Was it really ta save ya, or was it ta wage war against the Juggernauts after they cost the blonde with the big titties her shot at the big one?
Go ahead, ask him. The answer might surprise ya...
Jake Conway might be a good friend, but he's a better husband.
He'll always save her.
He'll never save ya again.
Even if I let him.
Which I won't.
Bernard De Montford walks through the curtain, followed by two male Emergency Medical Technicians either side of him. Head Physician Nicole Kingsley follows closely behind, instructing her team to help him to the fitness room at the Nationwide Arena, but the stubborn Englishman is having none of it.
Bernard pushes passed them and refuses medical assistance point blank. Nicole is about to call after him, but she is side-tracked by a voice behind her.
"Nic..."
Nicole looks over her shoulder as the big man and her lover, Cyrus Daniels stumbles slowly through the curtain. She rushes back, and he throws his arm around her shoulder, walking with him. Daniels moves slowly, still feeling the effects of the shot to his groin. Thankfully, the stinging pain was beginning to dissipate. There was blood seeping slowly from a small cut across his forehead from the wild chair shot of a determined and resilient Joe Everyman. A man he had underestimated, and paid the price for.
Nicole: Please, don't be as stubborn as your mate about this, I'm gonna clean ya up, okay?
Cyrus just grimaces and nods as he allows her to help him to the back.
Cyrus Daniels stands in front of a camera, wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans and the signs of his last match in the form of a band aid across the cut on his forehead. Cyrus is also chewing a stick of gum as he smirks at the camera, a picture of arrogance in spite of looking a little worse for wear.
Well mates, here we are. Once again I don't really know if I'm bein' punished by the ol' man De Montford who is tryna find ways ta keep me n' his boy in line before we really run roughshod over his company or if I'm bein' rewarded by Roberto Verona for takin' the man who was the first Imperial Champion and showin' his Everymaniacs just how desperate their hero really is.
I'm sure everybody has an opinion on why a man like me is even in this match. If you ask Xander Famularo, he'll probably tell ya that I don't deserve ta be in this match with him because he is the undisputed Alpha Male of the company and no one can measure up ta him one on one. Once, in another time and another place, it was true and it was undisputed. It was before my time but I still heard the stories of what it was like ta stand opposite the ring from Xander Famularo. The stories of the men ya dominated in that ring were legendary at the time. Now however, we have a little problem, and it is a problem ya are either too ignorant or proud ta admit ta.
Now I'm not stupid enough ta even suggest that the time of your dominance is over, it isn't. If it were ya wouldn't be Heavyweight Champ right now, but we both know that though it may not be over, it has already peaked. Ya are still good Xander, but ya are not at the level ya once were. At the real height of your peak ya were not simply one of a small group of Juggernauts, ya were THE Juggernaut. Nobody could touch ya, few even tried, the rest just trembled when they saw ya standin' across the ring from ya, but as I say that was another time and another place entirely.
The time was 2011.
The place was New Championship Wrestling.
Unfortunately for ya though, we're neither in NCW or 2011 anymore, are we mate? This is 2013. This is IWF, and in the here and now, things are just a little bit different, for both of us, aren't they Xander? So when you go see your ol' man for advice and he tells ya all sorts of stories about how I'm nothin' ta worry about and regales ya with tales about how even as a man north of fifty he still managed ta make whippin' boys outta the Crocodile Hunter and I, I'd remind him "Hey Pops, I love ya but this ain't 2012 either". I'd take the ol' bloke's war stories with a pinch of salt mate, if I were ya, but of course, ya don't havta take my advice.
Not if ya are happy with where ya are right now, and honestly why wouldn't ya be? Ya have the gold ya set out ta get, ya have a damn sexy wife who I can only imagine must be more committed ta ya than she once was ta this business and ya have you're own gang. Life is pretty sweet if ya are Xander Famularo these days, most of the boys in the back would still step over their own mothers ta have all ya have. Do ya know why? It isn't because you're the best, it is because even at eighty-five percent, you're still better than most of them. There's a reason ya haven't operated at your peak efficiency in between those ropes for over two years, and we both know why, don't we Famularo?
It is because ya haven't needed ta.
Ya haven't needed ta be at one hundred per cent.
Ya have done just enough and that's been good enough ta overcome most challenges, hasn't it mate?
Ya are undeniably the product of some of the best genes in the business, of superior breedin', and that's why I'm lookin' forward ta bein' in the ring with ya, not ta test ya but ta test myself. I won't ask much from ya Xander, all I want is ta face the Xander of 2011, the Xander of NCW right here and now in 2013 and in IWF. I want the Xander Famularo who didn't just yap about bein' the Alpha Male every week, but just shut up n' stepped through the curtain every week ta prove it - and did it on his own. Most people watchin' right now probably think I'm stupid for askin' this of ya because they expect ya ta pound me in ta the canvas. Let 'em. This isn't about them, and I've never once claimed ta be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I have defied other people's expectations of me...
IWF.com Exclusive
Monday Night Sacrifice
Behind The Curtain: CYRUS DANIELS GETS CHECKED OUT
IWF's Head Physician, Dr Nicole Kingsley helps Cyrus Daniels to hop up onto the bed in the fitness room. He adjusts himself slightly to sit on it.
Nicole: Okay?
Cyrus nods. Dr Kingsley then smiles at him before turning to one of her team, a young Chinese man.
Nicole: Doctor Chang. Could you get an ice pack please?
The young man nods. Nicole then turns to the other member of her team, a young African American man.
Nicole: Ya, Doctor Willis. Get me some antiseptic ointment and some cotton swabs.
Dr Willis: Yes, Ma'am.
Daniels: Well at least now I know I'm not the only bloke ya like ta boss around...
Nicole chuckles, as her two assistants return with all the speed and efficiency she had come to expect from them.
Nicole: Thank ya. Ya two may go now. I can handle this.
The two men nod and smile at her. Dr Willis turns to his colleague as they head out of the door, Dr Chang following.
Dr Willis: Hey Chang, how about we go grab some noodles?
Dr Chang: Sounds good to me.
The rest of their conversation is beyond us as they close the door behind them, leaving Nicole and her patient alone together. Cyrus holds the ice-pack to his groin as Nicole dabs his cut lightly with a cotton swab, cleaning blood from the wound. She whispers in his ear with a smirk.
Nicole: Alone at last...
Cyrus' eyes move down to the ice-pack across his groin. Nicole follows his gaze.
Nicole: Oh, I hope that ain't too sore...
An unspoken moment passed between them as they locked eyes and a question formed in her mind.
Did he want kids? She did...one day.
She had not brought up the subject with him because she secretly feared Cyrus would be against the idea, and she didn't want to ruin whatever it was they had. She was in this for the long haul and she was patient. For now it was all about the sex, and it was enough...for now. It had been for months now, and she hadn't complained because for what it was, it was fantastic. She was confident there was more to the man she loved and to their relationship, and maybe Cyrus would eventually come around...
One day.
Daniels: I'm sure it'll be okay...all it needs is a little tender love n' care from a certain sexy little nurse...
Daniels smirks.
Nicole: Excuse me? Sexy little nurse? I'm a sexy little doctor, mate...n' don't ya bloody forget it!
Having cleaned the wound of blood, Nicole now disinfects the wound and Cyrus winces slightly in reaction to the sting. Nicole giggles.
Nicole: Serves ya right.
Nicole then gently applies the band aid before removing her plastic gloves. Setting them aside, she then cups the side of his face with one hand and looks into his eyes. In response he mirrors her, with one gloved hand as he brushes her blonde hair aside. He then firmly grabs her by her hair and pulls her in for a kiss that was as intense as his touch. After the slight recoil from his force that had become part of their passion, she surrendered just as she always did.
There is a cough which neither of them react to, being lost in the moment. There is another cough and this time Nicole opens her eyes and moves them to look in the direction from where it came. Seeing Bernard De Montford standing there, arms folded across his chest, she suddenly breaks the kiss. Cyrus turns to look at his partner who looks quite amused.
Bernard: And I thought my doctor was being too personal every time he cupped me and asked me to turn my head and cough...don't suppose I need to ask how you're feeling?
Daniels: Bloody hell mate, don't ya ever knock?
Nicole responds by grabbing one of her gloves and throwing it at Bernard, it hits him in the face and the three of them share a laugh.
Haven't I Spike?
Ya know mate, I haven't quite decided whether ya annoy me or just amuse me. Either way, ya are a classic example of somebody whose been at this way too long. How long have you been in this business now? Seventeen years...
Cyrus lets out an impressed whistle.
That's impressive, it really is, and I can take nothin' away from everythin' you've given ta this business over nearly two decades. Spending on average three hundred days of each of those seventeen years on the road, performing in the ring and dropping pipe bombs for the entertainment of all those sell out crowds around the world, it was all gonna catch up ta ya eventually. It was inevitable. Because, fame, notoriety, glory, and infamy, it all has a price. Even an infamy as great as yours.
The legendary Spike Kane.
The Master Of The Spike Impaler.
The God Of Xtreme.
It doesn't matter what they call ya. I call ya confused, a glory hog, somebody who doesn't know when ta step aside.
But as I said, it was inevitable. The mental cataracts that has clouded you're mind's eye has probably been building for years, long before I came in ta the business n' has finally begun ta settle in. Years of cuttin' promos and cuttin' down your opponents, exposin' their flaws both mental and physical n' generally scramblin' ta find the words when ya have little ta say but a lotta air time ta fill and finally its happened. You've ran your mouth for far too long that you've become numb ta your own words or perhaps ya really don't put as much thought in ta 'em as ya used ta.
Spike Kane is stuck on autopilot, and he's flyin' high, and because so many people around here like ya, respect ya and envy the mythos you've managed ta build around yaself, they just sit there dumbfounded and in awe thinkin' that after seventeen years ya have still got it - only they're wrong. They're as blinded by their own nostalgia as ya are by your own ego. Tell me Spike, is there anythin' in this business ya won't try and take credit for? When it suits ya, when ya need ta puff out your chest a bit more n' make yaself seem a bit more Billy Badass? Honestly, is there?
I stomped ya inta the canvas on my own here in IWF and I did that whilst I was still carryin' around over three hundred pounds of deadweight...n' rather than give me the credit I deserve for it, ya wanna make it all about ya. Ya wanna sit there n' tell the world that you're responsible for sparkin' my career, that without ya I'd be nothin'. Fine, mate, if that's the game we're playin' n' ya insist on bein' my salvation, then I guess ya won't mind if I go ta the well one more time n' continue ta build my career on the diminishin' flame of your storied career, will ya?
Greater blokes than me have tried ta take the torch from ya n' failed. That's not my goal. It never has been. I don't need ta take it from ya to extinguish its flame. Ya can keep your mantle n' your moniker, I want none of it. I simply wanna reduce everythin' around that mantle ta ashes n' leave just enough breath in your body ta make ya feel how far the fall from grace really is.
Why? Why not? It would amuse me though admittedly not as much as watchin' ya scramble ta find the words ta fulfill your obligations. I cannot speak for Xander but I find it funny as hell that when either Xander or myself beat someone like Stephen Kingsley or Joe Everyman, it means we're nothin' but cowards and bullies but when Infamous do it, its suddenly somethin' worth shoutin' about. Unlike the sheep ya call fans, I actually remember that it wasn't so long ago ya were milkin' the dissolution of Criminal Intent for all it was worth n' a timev when ya were honored ta step in the ring with Joey. Apparently beatin' someone only matters when ya or Rob do it, does it mate? Well, I guess they say history is written by the winners, and when you're Spike Kane, history is not only written, but rewritten, regardless of whether ya win or lose.
Tell me again about how ya suddenly have the right ta criticise anybody else's God Complex when ya have built your entire career on the premise of bein' the God of Xtreme? What does that even mean anyway? Havin' looked back at some of your matches mate, as far as I can tell it means ya have jumped off a few ladders and crashed through a few tables in your time. Wow, I'd be impressed if I wasn't so busy tryna stifle a yawn.
That's all I seem ta do these days whenever somebody mentions your name around me, Spike. Fact is mate, whether ya wanna admit it or not, the days of ya bein' the man on your own are well n' truly over. Ya may be a little too starry-eyed right now because ya think the Imperial Championship is well within ya reach, but we both know the truth, don't we mate? When Rob ain't there ta watch ya back, ta preserve what little shine remains on your apple n' still make ya look good, ya fall apart...
I have proven it before.
And so has Lex Sense.
And I see no reason why I can't do it again this week.
Tell me Spike, how would ya feel if I just left enough of ya for Lex ta repeat history next week? Will ya finally concede that he and I are the newest monsters ta walk among the ruins of giants and Gods in this business? Or will ya continue ta tell me I'm just a tag team guy all whilst ignorin' the blissful irony of the turn your career has taken? Ya came inta this business as a tag team guy Spike, n' now months later you're still a tag team guy. The fact that ya have managed ta hold onta that tag team title for as long as ya have only means that it'll be a lot easier ta console yaself when Lex takes your last shot at glory from ya next Sunday. But then, that's nothin' new is it mate?
That precious fifteen pounds of gold has already consoled ya through so much hasn't it? Tell me, how many of your tears have evaporated in the golden sheen of that belt after Alysson Gardner left ya? How many more will that leather strap dry after the God of Xtreme is proven ta be just a man, every bit as broken as the fanciful dreams of recapturin' his glory days one more time he's nuturin' in the splinters of his fractured mind?
Cyrus then points to the band aid across his forehead as he speaks.
Ya have been lucky ta get ya shot Spike, just as lucky as your good friend Joe was last week when he got this shot. Savour it for this is a reminder ta both of us that even the old dogs and the underdogs get lucky enough ta draw first blood from the monsters they face sometimes. Ya will realise, sooner than ya think, that drawin' blood from n' killin' the monsters ya face are entirely different propositions, mate.
Cyrus lowers his hand.
Lex and Bernie will have the best seats in the house as they watch Xander and I bounce ya around the ring for ten minutes before makin' the old guard a non factor in a real clash between fighters of a new breed n' a new generation, n' then ya can look back at your ol' mate Jake n' finally understand why he doesn't do this anymore. He doesn't have a place in this business anymore. When ya walk down the ramp on Monday soakin' in the cheers with him by your side, take a moment ta ask him why he really came back. Was it really ta save ya, or was it ta wage war against the Juggernauts after they cost the blonde with the big titties her shot at the big one?
Go ahead, ask him. The answer might surprise ya...
Jake Conway might be a good friend, but he's a better husband.
He'll always save her.
He'll never save ya again.
Even if I let him.
Which I won't.
Well howdy there pardner.