Young Gun

[Warren Kane]

Being a Young Gun used to mean something, once upon a time. A long time ago, in a galaxy far away. See, my mentor, the great and powerful Spike Kane made me do my homework on this industry we all love and care about so much. He made me study the people who came before us. The groups who rose, and fell before us, the people who left their marks, and those who tarnished them also. I’d be honored to be called a Young Gun, to be counted amongst their names, before they were tarnished by the likes of Jimmy Zane and Lex Sense that is…..to be considered an equal along the likes of Doc, James Mueller, Venom, and Charlie Velez? Well…...I realised very recently, that’s exactly why I do this. That is the very reason why I stand in the middle of that squared circle week after week, win or lose, and I stare out at the crowd and soak it all in. I live my dream, and I hope that I can make it, and prove to the world…..that I belong.

I belong amongst the greats.

I’ve had a mixed run in IWF so far. Stop start. I do great things, and then fall at the next hurdle. Maybe I’m not cut out to hit the big time, or maybe the pressure is getting to me? Maybe I just need to find my stride? I’m learning. Every single time I climb through those ropes I’m learning. I’m adapting, and I’m evolving. If I learned anything more than anything from my teacher I learned that I need to evolve with this business, and I plan on doing that. I’m getting used to being at the bottom of the rung, I’m getting used to being a small fish in a big pond, to life on the road, to people not giving two shades of shit about me…..and the scary thing about all of it is?

When I’m finally ready?

Nothing is going to stop me from rising to the top of this company.

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The sky was typically overcast like it usually was on a British summers day, the streets were busy as people hurried about their lives bumping into each other but barely making eye contact. They ignored each other, lost in their own worlds, in their own little lives, as two men walked up from the tube station, Spike Kane and Atreyu, both former wrestling superstars, one a legend and one the former protoge of that legend. Spike pulled his cell phone out of his leather jacket pocket and turned back on himself, looking a little confused, Atreyu sighed as he moved out of the way of an angry looking businesswoman who almost charged right through him.

”We’re lost aren’t we?” he questioned Spike, his toned reeked of annoyance, but Spike didn’t answer right away. He was checking something on his phone. ”We’re not lost Wade. Give me a break, I haven’t been to London in years, let alone to Little Simon’s old place…..christ. I left that place over a decade ago.” Seeming to get his bearings Spike starts to walk off and reluctantly Atreyu follows him. The two start walking down some side alleys as the overcast sky begins to allow a slight drizzle to fall, not quite rain, but not dry either. Eventually the two come to a small warehouse looking building with a blue neon sign reading “EBCWF” over the shutter. The two men look at each other, Atreyu cocks an eyebrow at his friend, but Spike chuckles and shrugs before walking through the small door to the side.

”Come on ya buncha idjits! I taugh ya better than that!” for those fans with the knowledge, the voice cuts through the air, the unmistakable tones of tag team legend, and hall of famer, Milo Holland. He’s busy shouting at some kids who are busy running drills in the middle of the ring, out of the corner of his eye he spots Spike and Atreyu walk into the building, and he turns to great them with a huge grin on his face. ”SPIKEY MIKEY!!!” Milo grabs Spike Kane in a huge bear hug, making the six foot four man look like a child. Spike begins to turn a shade of red as Milo squeezes him, Spike taps him on the head. ”Milo…….breathing…..I need to do that…..” Milo looks confused for a second. ”Oh, my bad….sorry. Hey Wade” He nodded to Atreyu as he let go of his old friend. Spike bent over onto his knees to take in a deep breath. Atreyu walked further into the room, taking in the batch of kids training.

”So this EBCWF place?” turning to face Milo and Spike, arms outstretched, Milo answered him. ”Extreme Backyard Championship Wrestling Federation. Was owned and ran by a dude called Little Simon Dynasty. Gave Spikey boy here is shot at the big time, then split. Gave him the rights to the company. Spike never sold it, used it to train people and give them the same chance we got. Every now and then one of the old guard pops in and checks on the place, me, Dave, Xcon, Triple D, hell…..even Kronic. I think you even asked The Ace right?” Milo turned to Spike who was busy coughing and trying to get his breath back so just nodded in response to the question. Eventually he walked up to Milo and Atreyu looking at the kids doing their training. One of them seemed to stand out, nailing some high impact moves, at high intensity, and also from what they called “high risk” spots. ”Is he the kid you called me about?” Spike asked Milo as he pointed to the boy, Milo folded his arms in response and nodded. ”Yup. Warren Kidd. He’s got potential Mike. He could go all the way, probably the only one here who could make it in the states, but he’s got something about him, some serious issues…..home problems.” Spike moves forward ahead of Atreyu and Milo who hung back, allowed Spike his room to watch Warren work in the ring. ”Ok…..I’m interested…...what’s his story?”

~~~

Is there any point going through my opponents one by one? Trying to list off the things that each of you will say to try and throw me off my game? The things that I can say about you to try and throw you off yours? All you can say is that this is our chance. The chance for each and every single one of us to show the entire world on such a grand scale who we are. What we are capable of, and what we are willing to do to succeed in this business. Some people will call this match a clusterf*ck, others will call it a match where the odds are always in your favours…..me? I live by the creed that anybody can beat anybody on any given night. I mean that. I’d bleed by that. Put the World heavyweight champion himself in front of me and I’d die on my feet trying to beat him!

I roll over for no man.

I’ve been trained by two men who have put their lives on the line for this business. One of them is a bona fide legend, a hall of famer in FOUR different companies, the God of Xtreme who doesn’t train people in the usual context….he tends to think, well….outside the box isn’t really a strong enough phrase to do it justice, but we’ll have to leave it there for now. Spike Kane is a man who carried two companies to greatness, and I stand here his protege, his hand chosen student ready to climb the ranks of the company he helped build, the company he once ruled, but alongside him was one of the greatest technical wrestlers this business has ever seen. The man who once brought about the era of Honor, Wade “Atreyu” Summers. I’ve been trained for greatness, by greatness…..can any of you say the same? Can any of you even begin to boast anything near this? I’m aware that I reak of arrogance right now, but it finally hit me last week that I need to start accepting that I’m not the green idiot that people seem to think I am.

I was trained for destruction.

I was trained for chaos.

I was trained to become great.

I will be the greatest thing to ever come from the Hellview school of Wrestling, and I’ll be the greatest wrestler to ever step foot in Imperial Wrestling Federation, it’s just a matter of time, and with my youth, time is something I have plenty of. I have it in abundance. To learn. To adapt. To grow. To take everything I can from everyone on this roster, to become better, week after week, month after month, year after year if it takes that long. I don’t look at the roster as my enemies, I simply look at them as teachers. Each one of them as someone who can teach me something to better myself.

So when I look across the ring at October Revolution, and I see each of you in our Young Gun showcase…..I’ll see a pale reflection of what the Young Guns once were, of what we COULD be…..of the names we COULD make for ourselves if we fulfill our potential and live up to those names, and I’ll learn from each and every one of you. I’ll give my all, I’ll give everything I’ve got, and I’ll give you the best match you’ve ever been in…...I’ll just warn you now boys…

I’m walking out with the victory.

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