Hate By Design [Birthday Bash #1]
Jul 1, 2021 21:50:51 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dylan, and 2 more like this
Post by Spike Kane on Jul 1, 2021 21:50:51 GMT -5
Look at me.
Look me in the eyes.
Do I have your fucking attention now?
Why Spike, why did you have to do what you did? Dylan never did anything to you, neither did Jesse or his son. You’re a horrible son of a bitch who deserves everything that’s coming your way! Well….the last bit isn’t wrong really, is it? I am a horrible son of a bitch….but I don’t do things without a reason behind them. Dylan and Jesse might claim innocence, but we all know that’s far from the truth, don’t we?
A baseball bat to the face says so.
Threatening me outside of the match Jesse?
What, did you think I was just going to let that slide?
It’s just the first example of neither of you having the smallest clue who the fuck you’re going to be facing in the ring at the XHF Birthday Bash. Although to me? It honestly doesn’t matter when and where the match is, what matters is you both are in for a rude awakening, because not only have you pissed me off, you’ve awoken the most violent motherfucker to ever step foot in a wrestling ring full stop.
Not just XHF.
Wrestling. Period.
You both like to think you hold that title, you both like to think you’re the next level, or the next evolution or some shit, but the truth of the matter is, you have no idea who I really am. You have no idea what I’ve done, and you have absolutely no idea what I’m capable of. What you wish you were? I’ve been for two and a half decades. So when I look at you both? I don’t see the person to take that title from me, no no no….All I see?
Is two Spike Kane wannabes.
Oh don’t be surprised, I’m an egotistical piece of shit, because let me break it down for the both of you. If it wasn’t for Spike Kane? If it wasn’t for the God of Xtreme, ushering in my style of wrestling, and FORCING people to pay attention as I climbed to the top of federation, after federation? There would be no Dylan Black, there would be no Jesse Jamester.
You’re welcome.
~~~
THEN
We open up inside Hell Itself© as Spike Kane stands in a dark room, illuminated by the flames almost everywhere outside the large window. As Spike walks to look out the window, the camera pans around and it reveals what seems to be a studio apartment, all decked out in black and red of course. The bed clearly hasn’t been slept in, Spike winces as a large burst of flames erupts outside, and he turns away heading into the room.
‘Well shit….who the fuck thought Hell did studio apartments?’
Spike picks up a TV remote off a table and flicks the TV on the left wall on, it fires to life with wrestling, because of course it does. Spike’s eye twitches, as on the TV screen he sees his best friend, Rob Diamond.
‘Fuck.’
With a deep sigh, Spike lowers his head and closes his eyes, before looking back up to the screen again. Rob seems to be talking to a stuffed toy, a bear….and he keeps calling it Spike.
‘God damn….I hope he’s ok….’
Without Spike touching the remote the channels start to flicker and change on their own, Spike blinks before he sees Pandora Freeman and Astrid Hall comforting each other in their grief.
‘Stop’
He can’t seem to take seeing his lovers so broken on his screen, he presses the buttons on the remote but nothing happens, then suddenly the flickering and changing speeds up, flicking from Warren, to Dawn, to Jake Conway, to Abigail, to Eternity.
Spike: FUCKING STOP IT!
He launches the remote across the room, and it smashes into the TV screen becoming imbedded in it as it does, the screen cracks and shatters, but it still shows the image of Rob Diamond talking to the bear.
“Spike”
“Spike”
“Spike”
It echoes around him, and Spike simply curls up into a ball, leaning against the wall, and begins to rock back and forth.
“This is still Hell, after all, brother….”
The voice immediately grabs Spike’s attention, as he looks up to see his twin brother, Brad “Reckless Jack” Kane standing over him, with a big smirk on his face. Spike’s eyes are wide with shock, and we fade away.
~~~
How is poor Julius doing Jesse?
I hope he’s doing well….actually, that’s a lie. I think we both know I don’t give a flying shit. I don’t even look at your son and see a person, I simply saw a message, a message I could send directly to you, and there was absolutely no way you could miss it. No way you could misinterpret it. It’s real simple, to be honest, it’s more of a commandment than anything, people found it out the hard way back in the OG XHF….before all this network bullshit…
Thou Shalt Not Fuck With The Spiked One.
I could have let it go, I could have taken your snub from the CTA match, and taken it for what it was. After all, BANG! Bros came out on top…..you? Not so much. But the thing is, I’m not the type of person to let shit go. You disrespect me? I’ll cave your skull in, and now the message has been sent, and I’m pretty sure it was received as intended too….you’re gonna come to the GUN Show all cylinders blazing, all fired up, desperate for revenge…..you’re gonna want my blood, probably more so than Dylan does….which is amusing to me really, because emotions make us stupid JJ. Emotions cause us not to listen to that voice of reason in our head, and instead we lash out….
So while you’re swinging for vengeance?
I’ll be plotting every single move to manifest your downfall.
Look at me Jesse, I don’t care if you’ve ever watched one of my promos, I don’t care if you’ve ever watched a single match of mine. I put my own son in the hospital, to prove a point….what I did to yours? That was simply childs play, and in all honesty, it was only a precursor to what I’m going to do to you at the Birthday Bash…
Twenty Years of XHF….
Still doesn’t touch Twenty Five Years of the God of Xtreme.
Twenty five years of dealing with people like you Jesse, people who think they’re so much better than me, look down their nose at me. I’ve spent a career proving people wrong, and I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. I don’t care how big you are, how scary you think you are, or what you’ve done…..I’m taking you out, one way or another. You see, my quest for the X*Crown isn’t being placed to the side, no not at all….everyone sees you as a future X*Crown Champion…
I’m just eliminating my competition.
That’s the closest thing to a compliment I can give you JJ.
Why?
Because you are competition Jesse, you’re someone capable of rising to the ranks of X*Crown Champion, especially given how it’s been handed around more than Steve Awesome in a post show party. I look at you, and there aren’t many people in any of the federations across the XHF Network who are as imposing or intimidating as you, let alone as violent. See….people like to think they are, they talk themselves up...then they step into the ring with the God of Xtreme, and realise how desperately wrong they were. I’ve dealt with it everywhere I’ve gone JJ….I imagine it’s been starting to happen to you too, huh?
Old man.
Past his prime.
Can’t wrestle.
Chair swinging moron.
They just don’t understand, do they? What we do? It isn’t a gimmick, it isn’t masking our faults, and it definitely isn’t for the faint of heart. We live this lifestyle, and we deal with the downfalls, the injuries, the pain, but people don’t seem to understand why. Why can we go out there, wrap ourselves in barbed wire, set ourselves on fire….and then do it again next time. The rush, the pain, the roar from the crowd, the shock on their faces, and the utter destruction left in our wake….
We fucking live for it.
We’re addicted to it.
I know you more than you think Jesse, because when I made that comment about you being a Spike Kane wannabe? It’s purely because I got here first. I blazed the trail, and people like you and Dylan followed suite. Not the only ones of course, I’ve had plenty of protoges and enemies in the past who felt they could take my moniker and become the new God of Xtreme, Price was one of them….didn’t work though, did it?
There is only one Spike Kane.
Do what you will come the Gun Show, throw whatever barbs and threats my way, they’ll slide right off my back, because I know you, and I know that this Deathmatch is the only match capable of containing the carnage the three of us are ready to throw at each other….shit, they had to put it as the main event because quite frankly?
Not a single match on Overheated, or the Gun Show comes close.
A future X*Crown Champion, The Greatest X*Crown Champion (Don’t worry, I’ll get to you soon sweet cheeks) and the motherfucking LEGENDARY Spike Kane…..a shitty disqualification, or a count out, would just ruin this….and we both know we wouldn’t stop even if such a call was made. People like us, we don’t stop until our opponent is down and out cold. Done for. If you’re not prepared to do that Jesse? I’ve got some bad news for you….because that is how I roll. I plan on putting you down for good…
Fuck it, I’ll end your career if I have to.
I expect the same from you, hell, I pushed the right buttons to expect that, right? It’s ok though, once your career gets put in the dirt at the Birthday Bash, you can be home with your boy, attempt to recover together, maybe even be his personal coach or manager….but you won’t be stepping foot in the ring again. Some people might see that as an over reaction for what you did and said in the prison….but not me. You, like your son….are a message for me to send to the entire XHF Network.
I am Spike Kane.
The God of Xtreme.
I am more than willing and able to mow through you fucking all to get that X*Crown Championship.
See you soon Jesse…
Real fucking soon.
~~~
NOW
We open up on a pretty run down roadside diner, probably somewhere outside of Boston, it’s night time and there’s a light drizzle. The bell above the door rings as Spike Kane enters, a tall blonde waitress who has just finished serving someone turns to face Spike, a pot of coffee in her hand.
“Sit where you like honey, I’ll be with you in a few, can I get you some coffee?”
Spike winces a touch from the fluorescent lights, before nodding to the waitress, eyeing up a booth near the window as he does.
Spike: A whole pot if you’ve got enough.
She looks him up and down and takes in his appearance, rationalising his need in her own head however she must.
Snake: She probably thinks you’re a drug addict.
The hunchbacked demon form of Snake appears from behind Spike once more, but Spike doesn’t even acknowledge him, as he heads to the booth to sit down. Snake takes the seat opposite, Spike begins to read the laminated menu.
Snake: Ooh, do they do waffles?
Spike: You don’t even eat…
Snake: Yeah but I could at least smell them…..
Spike: No.
Snake: I miss waffles….
Spike casually looks around the diner, people don’t seem to be paying him any mind, but he understood if people heard him they’d think he was crazy, or maybe just a struggling addict. As Spike puts the menu down the waitress walks over to him with a mug and a fresh pot of coffee, she places them both down and then flips open her notebook and pulls a pen from behind her ear.
“Y’alright honey?”
She asks with a hand on her hip as Spike pours the coffee and begins to drink it immediately, pure black.
Spike: I’m ok thank you.
“What can I getcha?”
Spike: Bacon, if you can….just a shit load of bacon.
“Er...I’m sure we can do that, you want anything else?”
Spike: No, thank you, just as much bacon as you can fit on a plate. Like, when you think it's enough? Double it.
“Okay dear, we’ll sort you out.”
She turns towards the kitchen without even writing anything down, Snake looks really upset that Spike didn’t order any waffles.
“IRV!! A SLAB OF BACON!”
As she walks off, Snake leans across the table to get into Spike’s face.
Snake: You won’t order waffles, but a shit ton of bacon!?
Spike: Yeah.
Snake: Why?
Spike: Because American bacon is shit. So I need loads to make up for it.
As Spike snaps back at Snake, he notices an old man a few booths behind him, looking at him like he just shat in his cereal.
Spike: The fuck you looking at!?
As Spike glares at the man, flames almost seem to erupt in Spike’s eyes. The man almost stumbles as he tries to get to his feet as quick as he can, and runs out of the diner. Spike scowls after him, Snake doesn’t even seem to address it at all.
Snake: But why bacon?
Spike: Because I’m fucking starving. I haven’t eaten in two years.
He runs a hand through his hair, before taking another big swig of coffee, looking at the form of Snake in front of him.
Spike: May as well get comfortable dickhead. We’re gonna be here for a while. I’m gonna eat my entire body weight in bacon. Then, I’ll move onto burgers….maybe some nachos…
Snake: …..and then waffles?
Spike: If you weren’t already dead, I’d kick your ass.
Snake: You wish.
Luckily Spike seemed to learn his lesson from the old man listening in to his private conversation, and keeps his voice down as he taunts the demon shadowing him on Earth. He spins the coffee in his mug with his index finger, before flicking some of it off his finger at Snake. The tiny droplets of coffee pass straight through him and hit the seat behind him. Spike simply “hmphs” shaking his head before finishing off that mug, and pouring some more coffee as we fade away once more.
~~~
I’ve got to admit….
I’m surprised you’re even able to stand.
What were you expecting though Dylan? Were you expecting me to just be all sportsmanlike, oh, it’s all in the spirit of the match buddy! It’s all good, well played, good job…
You weren’t even in the fucking match.
So, as I sat there and replayed events, over and over….the words of Caffrey stuck in my head. The jumped up prick wanted me to EARN an X*Crown shot….like I wasn’t doing that in the rumble, or in the Call to Arms match…..but it sowed the seeds in my mind. Of course, he was wrong, but also there was a slither of truth to it. You see, I’ve paid my dues, over a long fucking time. I’ve earned everything that has ever come my way, but when the Battle of the Best was taking shape, I saw my opportunity, I signed a contract with Fireside one the condition I got to go out there and do what I wanted to do…
Revenge is a dish best served on live television.
You can’t honestly expect to clock someone like me in the head with your bat, and expect no repercussions? I don’t think you’re that naïve, not in the slightest….hell, it was probably bait, right? I mean what else is this cyborg piece of shit going to do now that he’s lost the X*Crown Championship? Find the nastiest fucker in the yard and try and take him out, fair play….I applaud it, if I’m honest. Hell, like I said to Jesse….you’re competition, and I’ll step on your neck if it gets me one step closer to that crown. However, what happened at the Battle of the Best?
That was just the beginning.
The difference between us Dylan, is that people heap praise on you for what you’ve done - and rightfully so, I’m not trying to diminish anything you’ve done. They call you the greatest X*Crown Champion of the network era, but I beg to differ….in my eyes, you’d go down as the greatest X*Crown champion of all time….until I hold the belt that is, because I have a tendency to eclipse the reigns of champions who come before me….and you can bet your cold robotic ass that the fact so many undeserving pricks have held that championship, and I haven’t gets right under my skin….even taking away my real reasons for wanting that belt.
You set the standard.
That, I can respect.
Yet another thing we have in common, eh? I dunno Dylan, I expect you to do your homework. While I imagine you’re pissed off because I broke your ass in the ring, and cost you the Battle of the Best tournament, you’re not going to be as wildly emotional as Jesse. Hell, can you even feel emotions!? I do have this image in my head that I just really want to come true, and no it has nothing to do with victory, or championships…
I want to rip your arm off and beat the shit out of you with it.
That’s definitely on my bucket list.
I know crossing you is bringing a war to my front door, but look at me Dylan. Look real close, and pay attention, the man standing across from you, the man who you’re willing to team up with Jesse Jamester to take out - because you know you can’t do it on your own. Tell me Dylan…
What the fuck do I have to lose?
That is the thing, I’m not sure either of you seem to understand. I don’t have anything else Dylan. I have wrestling, and that is it. I’ve lost absolutely everything I ever had, and now I have to swim through the muck that is the XHF Network, filter my way through all the little jumped up pricks who think they can make a name off toppling me, re-earn everything I ever did….because I did Dylan. Federation, after federation. Time after time. I earned my way to the top, and one way or another I’m going to earn my way to that fucking X*Crown, and if taking you down helps my chances? You bet your fucking ass I’m going to go as hard as I can. Bring everything I have within me, until my hand is raised as the victor…
The future X*Crown Champion, and the Greatest X*Crown Champion defeated at my feet.
You’ll understand then, both of you…
That I am the God of Xtreme.
Often imitated, never replicated….
All. Bloody. Hail.
“All they wanted was violence.
To plant their seeds and divide us.
If you want the worst that’s inside us?
Well bring on the violence!
The violence!”