Darkness (Showcase/GXW)

[Spike Kane]

I always seem to allow myself to forget, after a while you just get on with your life and don’t let it bother you. You’re day to day doesn’t differ much, but everyone around you tends to blur into one big menagerie of people, but it’s still there, deep, beneath it all, the arrogance of it all….

The ignorance of Americans.

Oh, I remember how rife it was back in the “Good Old Days” of XHF. How everyone would pat each other on the back because we “stuck it to the brits!” yeah, nobody else was laughing, nobody else cared - but you always have to be the biggest and loudest in the room don’t you? ...the thing is, Michael Storm? You’re pathetic attempts at humour, are so ass backwards - like that giant part of your country, and don’t even get me started on your piece of shit President….

I’m not English.

I don’t live in England.

I’m Irish you racist piece of shit.

“Oh but Spike, a black man can’t be racist!” …..yeah, sure. Whitey over here looks paler than most, and he talks funnt….so he has to be from England, right? Says the gun toting black man shooting at his friend. Though, again, that’s kinda funny too….you know the term “friendly fire” pretty much synonymous with the United States of America. But here’s a brief history lesson Storm….I’ve lived in America ever since I was signed to EBCWF, years before I came to XHF. Why? ….where the fuck else was I gonna wrestle?

I escaped a life that was hell. The only way I could do that, was fighting. Was wrestling, I started out in the backyards, and somehow - some way, this fucked up little orphan from Ireland became one of the worlds most premier athletes. I trained, and made the effort to make myself better. I went to mexico, I went to Japan, I ran my own companies….but it wasn’t the same. I missed that thing that made me stand out, so I delved into what you would call the “hardcore” realm….but for me, it was Xtreme. It was, and always has been…..my way of life.

You go that one step further.

You push that one mile longer.

You break people that one bone more.

But not you Mikey, oh no, you’re content with who and what you were, aren’t you? It’s funny, because back before I came to XHf I was labelled as “just a hardcore wrestler” and I did everything I could to fight against that. You , you seem to love that label and would be happy to just sit and rot, because you have no intention of bettering yourself, no intention of being something more.

Do you even understand what the wrestling business is about?

Storm, if you never wanted to be a world champion, then what the fuck are you even doing here? Every person who walks into any lockeroom, anywhere across the world, wants to be the best. They want to be seen as the best, and reap the rewards that being the best brings. Not you though, right? You’re happy to just make up the numbers, you’re happy to just take part.

You’re just here for your participation medal.

---

It’s raining, literally pouring with rain, as the scene opens up on a small graveyard. A man walks through the rain, donning a hoodie with a cut off vest over the top with “InFamous” spray painted diagonally across the back. The rain beats down hard on him, and even dribbles from his beard. The man approaches two small gravestones in amongst the others, one looking a little weathered, and the other…..almost brand new.

“Hello darkness my old friend….”

The man, who is quite obviously Spike Kane squats down on the edge of one of the gravestones, and places his hand on it. The rain disguises the tears that fall from his eyes. The man who would proclaim himself to be the God of Xtreme, the Blood God, weeped openly, because this was the first time he had summed up the courage to visit his sons grave.

[Here lies Xander Aiden Kane

Fly with the Angels]

Spike: I’m so sorry that I haven’t been here, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t bring it upon myself to come and see you son. Losing you, it….it opened everything I went through with your brother….and I barely held it together…

He slumps down to the ground, not caring that the rain had turned it to mud. A bottle of whiskey slips from his jacket pocket, and he picks it up, looking at it, almost longingly.

Spike: I’ve carried this bottle since that day….I know, that one sip will send me off the edge….and I’m not going to lie son, a big part of me has wanted to do just that. Since you were taken...I’ve done things, things you wouldn’t be proud of me for. I’ve hurt people, not the way daddy used to, not in the name of entertainment….but out of rage, anger, grief….no. That’s a lie, I used you as an excuse….and I’m so fucking sorry.

With an almost sloshing move he pulls himself up to his feet, looking down at the graves, but picking up the bottle of whiskey.

Spike: But you’re with your brother now….Zell, I miss you buddy….please look after him….

As he passes the second grave he places a hand on it, before walking down the pathway a little, reaching a larger grave one that reads “Bradley Allen Kane”

Spike: …..we hated each other, but you were always there when I needed you. I’m going back Brad….back to where all of this between us began, and I’m going to do you justice….on this, I promise…

He then pulls out the bottle of whiskey, knowing full well his struggles with drugs in the past, and Brad’s trouble with drinking. He opens the bottle and pours the whole thing out on the ground.

Spike: ….in your name, I’ll never touch this stuff again. Too little, too late, I know, but at least you had a positive effect on my life brother….I love you….

With one last sad look, and bow, he turns to walk away, wiping the tears from his eyes, but they’re soon replaced with more rain that just beats down on a man who is desperately trying to heal his wounds.

---

I’m not like most other people, and if you don’t know that now? You soon will. You see, I honed my craft, I trained harder than anyone else, and I became a somebody. I learned the hard away that friends mean shit in this game. I’ve been stabbed in the back, and in turn have stabbed so many myself. Maybe that is why I am the way I am? Maybe that is why I enjoy hurting people so much? Maybe…

Maybe I’m just a sick fuck.

When I talk about who I am, and what I’m capable of Storm? It’s not bragging, it’s a warning. I want you to know exactly who you’re getting into the ring with. I’ve powerbombed someone through a flaming barbed wire table, just for fun. I’ve wrapped myself in barbed wire and hit a moonsault on some poor bastard, just because I could. I took over a faction, by force - because I knew I could do it better. I’ve gone to war with some of the biggest names in this business, and I’m still here to talk about it.

I crucified a man for standing against me.

I cut off my best friends finger for standing against me.

I beat down my own son and put him in hospital.

Shit Storm, I told the world I had inoperable lung cancer, just to watch their faces drop when I told them it was all lies as I stood over my fallen son. Then I went on that company's longest championship reign in history.. Two hundred and forty five days Mike. When was the last time you did anything even close to that?

So talk your shit, tell me that I’m a penny and your a dollar….

More like a dollar store version of Goldbear.

While you’ve slipped into your stereotypical cookie cutter ways, I’ve excelled. I’ve moved on in the world, and left the shadow of XHF behind me. The man who walked out of XHF with that title in his hands? He’s a pale comparison to the GOD who stands before you. I know what you’re thinking, and I know what you’ll say. Who are those people? Whats to say they’re not a bunch of jobbers? Trust me when I tell you this Michael Storm.

You wouldn’t last a month.

I don’t wrestle in companies that don’t challenge me. I don’t work for companies that can’t draw the top talent in the world, because that is who I test myself against, that is who I’ve been proving myself against….year after year, for an entire decade since XHF shut its doors, and a decade before that leading up to XHF. Twenty long years I’ve been doing this Mike. Twenty bloody, brutal, years. Don’t mistake that for me being tired, or past it, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m as hungry now, as I was when I walked into the doors of XHF, sizing up AJ Phoenix.

Oh, I’ve beaten him quite a few times too.

You mistake my words for arrogance, you mistake my warnings as bragging, but you’re not wrong when it comes to pride, because I am so very proud of what I’ve done. I could show you my trophy cabinet Mike, perhaps then the words would sink in? Perhaps then you’d realise that I’m not blowing smoke, that I’m not like the rest who talk a big game, and fail to deliver….no, I’ve always followed through on my comments, always delivered on my threats...and I still look at you, and I still see a nobody.

Worse than that…

I see a joke.

I see a man who could have been anything, but was happy to sit back and watch everyone else surpass him. Do you really think you stand a chance? Do you really think you have what it takes? ….you make jokes about me, you try and ignore everything I’ve said, and people have done that before, many, many, times. The end results is always the same.

Them on their back, looking at the lights, while my hand is raised victorious.

History has a habit of repeating itself Michael, so don’t be too upset when it happens to you.

All. Bloody. Hail.