Post by Ghost Spike on Mar 24, 2016 17:17:41 GMT
Did you know it’s been ten years?
Almost ten years to the exact date that I walked into the XHF Rumble as the “rookie” kid under the wing of AJ Phoenix and MGK, part of “Overdrive” a group of rebels, degenerates even, who didn’t like the way the place was run, we’d had a rough run, MGK and AJ fell out and I was forced to pick a side, but later decided to stand on my own. We didn’t like taking orders from people like the Young Guns, who made their way to nCw a lot later than us. I walked into that match a relative nobody, even still after a ten year career….which is longer than some people have..
I walked out a certified main eventer.
Ever since that day I’ve had this confidence about me. I’ve been able to walk with my head held high, and not pay attention to the peons around me who try to belittle me at every step. People who tell me I’m “just a hardcore wrestler” people who tell me I’ll “never make the big time” I walked out one step closer to the world heavyweight championship, I walked out one step closer to being a legend.
I have four hall of fame rings since that day.
Ever since that day, my name has become synonymous with main event talent. With match of the year, with superstar of the year…..with CHAMPION. People have been playing catch up almost their entire careers. People like Alex Jones, people like Jake Conway….I’ve known them for longer than ten years, wrestled around the world with them, against them….but neither of them can hold a candle to my flame still, to this day. Despite what bad blood their may be between Alex and myself over Ana? It’s always boiled down to jealousy, he wants what I have….and I understand that.
I’m a legend.
He’s a joke.
But, he isn’t the only one. Look around the roster, look at each person…..who can stand up to me? Jack Gaither? Please. He learned his lesson. Mike Laszlo? Don’t even get me started. There isn’t a wrestler on the roster who holds a candle to me. Not even the most dominant like Angel, or the most persistent like The Ace, not even the most powerful, like Roberto.
I am the best.
I’ve always been the best.
And I’ll always be the best.
~~~
Almost ten years to the exact date that I walked into the XHF Rumble as the “rookie” kid under the wing of AJ Phoenix and MGK, part of “Overdrive” a group of rebels, degenerates even, who didn’t like the way the place was run, we’d had a rough run, MGK and AJ fell out and I was forced to pick a side, but later decided to stand on my own. We didn’t like taking orders from people like the Young Guns, who made their way to nCw a lot later than us. I walked into that match a relative nobody, even still after a ten year career….which is longer than some people have..
I walked out a certified main eventer.
Ever since that day I’ve had this confidence about me. I’ve been able to walk with my head held high, and not pay attention to the peons around me who try to belittle me at every step. People who tell me I’m “just a hardcore wrestler” people who tell me I’ll “never make the big time” I walked out one step closer to the world heavyweight championship, I walked out one step closer to being a legend.
I have four hall of fame rings since that day.
Ever since that day, my name has become synonymous with main event talent. With match of the year, with superstar of the year…..with CHAMPION. People have been playing catch up almost their entire careers. People like Alex Jones, people like Jake Conway….I’ve known them for longer than ten years, wrestled around the world with them, against them….but neither of them can hold a candle to my flame still, to this day. Despite what bad blood their may be between Alex and myself over Ana? It’s always boiled down to jealousy, he wants what I have….and I understand that.
I’m a legend.
He’s a joke.
But, he isn’t the only one. Look around the roster, look at each person…..who can stand up to me? Jack Gaither? Please. He learned his lesson. Mike Laszlo? Don’t even get me started. There isn’t a wrestler on the roster who holds a candle to me. Not even the most dominant like Angel, or the most persistent like The Ace, not even the most powerful, like Roberto.
I am the best.
I’ve always been the best.
And I’ll always be the best.
~~~
The scene opens up at the IWF Performance Center in Chicago. A bunch of students are in the ring training, practising break falls, how to take a bump, and ring awareness all alike. Near one of the doors we see Spike Kane standing with his arms folded, leaning against the wall.
“One….DROP! …..Two….DROP!”
The shouts come from the trainers, trying to whip these recruits into shape, train them up to become IWF superstars, or at least, that is the goal. The dream, so to speak. Spike is watching the whole class train, as he begins to move around, not talking to anyone, but quite clearly paying attention. He passes a small group working on the free weights, and notices that one of them is doing something wrong.
Spike: Don’t lean to the side like that, you’ll end up doing damage to your muscles and probably pre-emptively end your career before you even start.
He steps in and grabs one of the weights, leaning down and showing them how to do it.
Spike: Try it like this, it offers more resistance, but at the end of the day that is what you want. Helps you build the muscle.
The trainee nods at Spike, clearly intimidated by him but grateful for the advice no less. Spike continues walking around the hall before heading towards his office. As he does so, he stops and a slight smirk spreads across his face before he shouts out into the hall.
Spike: Oliver Banks…..my office.
There’s a sort of hush over the room after Spike shouts out, and on the other side of the room one of the guys inside the ring rolls out and begins to jog towards the office, his face red and flushed.
Ollie: Shit….shitshitshit.
Spike: Close the door, take a seat…
Ollie does as Spike says, sitting down opposite the God of Xtreme, clearly intimidated right now. Spike pulls out a folder with all of Ollie’s details in it and begins to look over it before looking Ollie right in the eye.
Spike: You know we have pretty high standards here, right?
Ollie: o-o-of course. I mean, it’s why I’m here….sir.
Spike nods his head and makes an “ummhmm” sound, clearly not paying attention to Ollie’s response.
Spike: Thing is, you’ve been here for a while Banks, and you’ve plateaued, you haven't really been making any progress. I mean we've had Shea O’Hara join the program and get promoted to the main roster in the entire time you’ve been here…
Ollie: I...I’ve been trying, I’ve been doing everything….I’ve been going to the shows, getting advice from the talent…
Spike: But it isn’t enough is it Oliver? I’m afraid I have bad news, we’re letting you go…
There’s a moment of silence as the words sink in. Ollie is looking down at his clenched fists before he looks right into Spike’s eyes, with fire burning inside them.
Ollie: This is because your son is in love with me isn’t it?
Spike: Oh, is he? I hadn’t even noticed. My sons romantic partners are of no consequence to me…
Ollie stands up abruptly, flipping his chair backwards and down to the ground. Spike doesn’t even flinch, he just looks up at him.
Ollie: You’re full of shit! You’re just doing this to be an asshole! You know as well as I do, that I’m one of the best you’ve got here, and you’re just trying to fuck with Warren! What kind of man are you? What kind of parent does this!? ...you wanna cut me? FUCK YOU! I QUIT!
With that Ollie slams his way out of the office, to quite a big scene. Everyone seems to stop what they are doing and watch him storm out of the hall to get his things and then storm out of the building all together. Back in his office, Spike leans back on his chair, and simply grins.
~~~
There’s been an ongoing war within IWF. Bertie made his call to arms, and some answered, others didn’t….nethertheless, they’ve been fighting the same war. Adapt or perish, survival of the fittest. I am a key example of those phrases. I’ve been around for so long that I’ve touched almost everybody's career at some point, from the likes of Vertigo Dirtmurder, to Trent Helms, from Dave and Milo Holland, to Rob Diamond…..in some way, I’ve impacted the careers and lives of almost everyone in this business.
That is longevity.
Thing is, I’ve learned over the years that certain things just don’t cut it anymore. Cutting a promo a certain way, is considered dull and boring….so I change. Performing certain moves in the ring are considered stupid, so I change. I evolve my style on a constant basis, it’s one of my most important tenets of this business. You can’t become stale, you can’t become one dimensional, or you’ll simply fall to the way side. Thing about the likes who have come and gone, who just simply couldn’t get to that next step, think of the likes of Jackhammer, Sexy Jason, Davey Ortega, Lex Sense, Joe Everyman, and even more that I just simply don’t give enough of a shit about to remember.
The Roulette though, is a chance for all of that to change. It’s a chance where anybody on the roster can either break through that glass ceiling, or establish their dominance, or even remind the world exactly who they are. Obviously I’m planning on doing the latter. You see, since I came back I’ve been bothering myself with trying to rid IWF of it’s garbage, that’s why I went to war with Mohammed Al Thani, and then once he was destroyed decided to snip off the tweeting fingers of IWF’s biggest loudmouth in Jack Gaither. Do you see how he broke? How he all of a sudden “respects” me? I dropped his fucking woman on her head, and now nobody cares, nobody gives a shit. Nobody has the balls to step up to me and even attempt to question my actions, because I always back up everything I say. Everything I do has a reason, a purpose, and I never fail to drive that point home every time.
I’m a force of fucking nature.
So I’m going into the Roulette, with my sights firmly set on being the last man remaining, and earning myself a shot at the Imperial Championship at the biggest night in the history of this company. It’s my right to be there, IWF wouldn’t exist without me….I deserve it, but I’m more than happy to cut a bloody and brutal path to that championship. Whoever holds it, has no meaning, because I’ve decided that the time to sit in the background is done, and it’s time to remind everyone exactly what happens when Spike Kane has a goal in mind, the carnage that will unfold….it’s not on my conscience.
I’m going to be a two time Imperial Champion.
One way…
Or another….
There’s been an ongoing war within IWF. Bertie made his call to arms, and some answered, others didn’t….nethertheless, they’ve been fighting the same war. Adapt or perish, survival of the fittest. I am a key example of those phrases. I’ve been around for so long that I’ve touched almost everybody's career at some point, from the likes of Vertigo Dirtmurder, to Trent Helms, from Dave and Milo Holland, to Rob Diamond…..in some way, I’ve impacted the careers and lives of almost everyone in this business.
That is longevity.
Thing is, I’ve learned over the years that certain things just don’t cut it anymore. Cutting a promo a certain way, is considered dull and boring….so I change. Performing certain moves in the ring are considered stupid, so I change. I evolve my style on a constant basis, it’s one of my most important tenets of this business. You can’t become stale, you can’t become one dimensional, or you’ll simply fall to the way side. Thing about the likes who have come and gone, who just simply couldn’t get to that next step, think of the likes of Jackhammer, Sexy Jason, Davey Ortega, Lex Sense, Joe Everyman, and even more that I just simply don’t give enough of a shit about to remember.
The Roulette though, is a chance for all of that to change. It’s a chance where anybody on the roster can either break through that glass ceiling, or establish their dominance, or even remind the world exactly who they are. Obviously I’m planning on doing the latter. You see, since I came back I’ve been bothering myself with trying to rid IWF of it’s garbage, that’s why I went to war with Mohammed Al Thani, and then once he was destroyed decided to snip off the tweeting fingers of IWF’s biggest loudmouth in Jack Gaither. Do you see how he broke? How he all of a sudden “respects” me? I dropped his fucking woman on her head, and now nobody cares, nobody gives a shit. Nobody has the balls to step up to me and even attempt to question my actions, because I always back up everything I say. Everything I do has a reason, a purpose, and I never fail to drive that point home every time.
I’m a force of fucking nature.
So I’m going into the Roulette, with my sights firmly set on being the last man remaining, and earning myself a shot at the Imperial Championship at the biggest night in the history of this company. It’s my right to be there, IWF wouldn’t exist without me….I deserve it, but I’m more than happy to cut a bloody and brutal path to that championship. Whoever holds it, has no meaning, because I’ve decided that the time to sit in the background is done, and it’s time to remind everyone exactly what happens when Spike Kane has a goal in mind, the carnage that will unfold….it’s not on my conscience.
I’m going to be a two time Imperial Champion.
One way…
Or another….
Well howdy there pardner.