Post by Ghost Spike on May 6, 2017 20:11:01 GMT
Words failed me.
Me.
Spike fucking Kane.
Do you get that? I could give a lecture on why I’m better than every single person on this roster, I could make an entire curriculum on Spike Kane…..but the moment those lights came up, and Warren was standing there in front of me?
There were no words.
And if I’m truthfully honest? Deep, and brutally honest, like I’ve never really been?
There still aren't any….
---
Did she really know what she was getting into. Could he really put her in the middle of this? She was so innocent, so pure. She’d seen him, the real him, when nobody else did. Came to him, and found him drowning in his sorrow and pain. Earlier that day she’d mentioned the rumours, rumours about them being together. A slight, soft smile spread across his face as he thought of those, because he didn’t care about those rumours, no…..those rumours he liked, those rumours he didn’t mind at all.
It was the rumours that he was corrupting her, changing her. Those were the rumours that were keeping him up at night. Those were the thoughts keeping the God of Steel from his slumber. He looked at her, and saw everything he wanted in the world right now, everything his heart sang for, and he knew, oh, he knew, he was falling hard for the blue haired wonder, but there was that voice inside him that nagged, and nagged.
“Everything you touch turns to shit”
The voice wasn’t wrong. Of course, the voice was his own, it was guilt. How could he be falling in love with someone mere months after the death of his wonderful little boy? How could he allow himself to be happy after that innocent little child was ripped from the world? He felt like he didn’t deserve it, and his memory made sure he felt it…..by reminding him of the hurt he’d felt in the past, of River, of Ana Valentine, of Alysson Gardner, of Nola, of Tara Fenix, of Tanya Bird, of SaPhire….and lastly, of Anne Kidd…...no, she didn’t deserve to end up like those. She didn’t deserve any of the mud that was being slung at her. He’d said as such to her, and she almost punched him in the face, boy, he sure knew how to pick them.
“She’ll end up just like you.”
That, however, was something he didn’t want. The truth of it all, the truth that he hadn’t voiced in almost a year. A truth he’d kept to himself, those nearest and dearest to him, he’d pushed away, often in ways he couldn’t even explain why, because he feared that they would become just like him. A horrible, twisted, reflection of the man he once was. Spike Kane used to be a hero, he used to be the kind of person you could look up to, but not anymore….Spike Kane was the kind of man you feared. Whilst a lot of the time he relished that, when he stood in the middle of the ring, he adored the reaction he got…..when people like Warren and Pandora looked at him that way? It’d break his heart.
“Mmmurbple...smarp…”
She mumbled non-words in her sleep as she adjusted her position, it jerked Spike out of his thoughts, and he realised that he was losing himself in his mind again. The same way he always did when shit was about to hit the fan. Perhaps, just maybe, instead of trying to decide what was right for her, he should leave it up to her? He should give her the choice, instead of making it for her. He’d spent an entire life of doing it the other way round, and it never ended well, so maybe…..just maybe, it was time to let go of the reigns, and allow fate to take its course. The guilt he felt was coming to haunt him regardless, perhaps the timing was fitting with Warrens return, an actual living embodiment….regardless, if he was going to have to fight for her?
Then he was going to fight for her.
She blinked open an eye and saw him, sleepiness in her smile as she took in his posture. He leaned forward and put a hand on her forehead.
“You should be sleeping”
She said in almost a whisper, he managed to smile at her, his thoughts were immediately replaced with nothing but those of her, and her smile.
“I had some things on my mind, plus, you’re adorable when you sleep.”
She buries her face in the blanket for a second, pretending to be embarrassed, but Spike climbs to his feet, as he shifts around the room, he climbs over her and lays down on the bed behind her, placing an arm around her and cuddling up to her. She closes her eyes and smiles as he nestles his head into hers, and closes his eyes, at least for the moment shutting out all the dark thoughts, and thinking of nothing but this moment.
---
I don’t know why you asked for this match with me Jack. I don’t pretend to understand how your mind works. I could guess, should I? Maybe it’s some skewed view of vengeance for what I “did” to Johnny boy several (and I really do mean several) months ago, when he walked up to me and punched me in the face days after my son died. Then when I didn’t hit him back? He hit me again, and again, and again, and again….so I snapped, and beat him within an inch of his life…
All well within the rules of the match he signed up for.
But the Gaither Klan feels validated in their rage, right? I’m evil, after all.
Perhaps you’re here to fight for Johnny’s cause? He done fucked up by slinging some racist mud on the old twitter machine, but it’s OK, because Fifi Mcflaps said it was, right? I mean, she’s Irish but she’s also Johnny boys friend, so if she says everything is fine, then it is…..right?
Far fucking from it.
This company has more than its fair share of Irish and Irish decent talent, and when your padawan took his stubby little fingers and tapped away at his keys, it was no accident, it was no “slip of the tongue” he lashed out at someone who is far superior to him, in every single way. He lashed out at Tristan in a way he knew would hurt him, because he knows that Nighthawk is a better wrestler than he ever could be. He knows that Nighthawk is a better speaker than he ever could be, hell, the fact that the fans voted him Hero of the Year tears him up inside. Because deep down inside, Johnny thinks he’s better than all of us, every single one of us….and beneath it all, Jack? I don’t even think it’s his fault….no, ironically, bringing it full circle to the silly little star wars reference I made….just like Darth Vader was Obi Wan Kenobi’s fault….Johnny Gillmen?
He is your fault.
Everything Gillmen does, falls squarely on your shoulders. You “trained” him, you sent him into this world and told him that he could be a professional wrestler. So when he steps into the ring with a GOD and gets his ass handed to him because he simply just is NOT good enough? That, old friend, is on you. When he sends out a spiteful and hurtful racist jab because in TRUMPS AMERICA he feels validated? That is the person you sent into this world, that is the person you thought was ready to carry on your legacy, to fly the Gaither flag….and the worst part of it all is Jack?
He makes you look better by comparison.
So here we are, Open Fight Night rebranded as Orange Fight Night as some pathetic attempt by the company to save face after your protogé fucked everything up. Does it work? Does it help? No. It’s yet another slap in the face? ORANGE!? Are you fucking kidding me? I was born and raised in Belfast City. Do you fuckers know the history of that town? Do you know the blood shed over fucking religion? Over two ever so fucking slightly different variations of the same fucking belief?
Oh it goes much deeper than that, trust me….but I am not here to give you redneck pieces of shit a history lesson about a country you couldn’t fucking point to on a map if you were given directions.
Orange Marches were something that brought instant hatred into my household, violence, death…..everything you can imagine, my old man was in the IRA, and as fucked up as he was, as much as I hate his guts to this day…...there are certain things that stick in the mind. Bloody Sunday being one of them, you don’t know? Do some fucking research. The potato famine, William of Orange, the list goes on…..I’m from Northern Ireland, sure….but I do not identify as British, and I never will….in fact, I’ve broken people for ever suggesting the fact…....and here I stand, supposed to smile and accept that Orange Fight Night is supposed to make Johnny Gillmens racist attack on Nighthawk and the Irish Community okily dokily. …..yet, I’m the bad guy throughout all of this. I’m the evil person who does this and that…..yet the things I do? I do in a wrestling ring. The things I do? I do because I’m fucking trained to do them….I am the god damn best there is at what I do...and I’m sick of saying it, of telling you all, time and time again, but you never listen.
What I do, ain’t nice.
If the IWF had such a problem with what I’ve been doing as their God of Steel Jack, Johnny, Fiona, Andrew, hell, Warren, and anyone else who wants to throw their two cents in…..why haven’t they stepped in to stop me? Why haven’t they done something to change the status quo?
They made me fight Andrew Jacobsen the same night as the Roulette…
I retained my title.
They made me fight Devlin Raine AND Andrew Jacobsen and defend my championship two times in one night, which nobody else has ever done..
I retained my title….
You don’t get it, do you? I am making this company more money than you could ever understand. I am bringing them more media attention - good media by the way, not the negative shit your Klan keeps bringing with nudey pics and racist comments - and I’m keeping you sons of bitches employed. I am, and always have been, the fucking workhorse that keeps IWF going.
So tell me now Jack, tell me….why did you want this match?
Listen to what I’ve said. Listen long and hard, and justify to me, why you wanted this match.
It’s never been about improving yourself, and it can’t possibly be about Johnny’s “debt” I owe him, or don’t owe him, depending on the week….because, hey - where the fuck have either of you been for the past several months? ….so tell me, honestly, tell me?
Why do you want to do this to yourself?
I’m better than you, in every single way Jack. I’ve proven it, I’ve shown it. I’ve beaten you when I was barely even trying, and I’m quite clearly at the peak of my career once again, so do you really think you stand a chance? Shit, when was the last time you even stepped into a ring? Do you think Fiona can carry your load? ….I don’t, hell, I really don’t think she can….because My Girl?
My girl hits like a fucking tank.
I’m aware you trained Fiona, I’m no idiot, but let’s be honest here Jack. You’re a fucking cowboy, I’m a world travelled, world schooled, multi time world champion, multi time hall of fame, living legend. I was training the next generation of IWF superstars in developmental, I have an aptitude for finding raw talent, don’t believe me? Look at the likes of people I’ve discovered or helped in the past….The Ace, Rob Diamond, Joe Everyman, The Brothers Holland, Shea O’Hara, hell, even Warren…..so when I trained Pandora? I’m sorry, that’s rude of me, when I offered Pandora EXTRA training? It took her to that next level? And what did she do with that? She upped her game. She brought that fire, and she hasn’t looked back….
Fiona won the Iron Maiden last year, and she coasted on that achievement for an entire year and did sweet fuck all with it, she had more championship opportunities than I think the entire male roster put together did…..and did absolutely nothing with any of them, but Pandora? I see her, I see her like nobody else does….and I see what the future holds for her. She took the title of Iron Maiden away from her figuratively by winning the match itself, and when the four of us step into the ring come Sacrifice?
When you’re left on your back, in agonising pain, wishing you’d stuck to your rocking chair and stories?
She’s going to take the title of Iron Maiden from Fiona literally.
Just remember Jack, you too Fifi….
You wanted this.
Well howdy there pardner.