Open Challenge: Jason Long // King Nothing
Feb 24, 2022 14:14:26 GMT -5
Steve Awesome, terras, and 2 more like this
Post by Spike Kane on Feb 24, 2022 14:14:26 GMT -5
He sits there, on a throne. A throne many people in the XHF Network may never have seen, but those who have know it’s lore. They know the meaning behind it, and they know the man who rightfully sits atop it.
A throne made of skulls.
Atop it sits Spike Kane.
“I was taken aback when this open challenge of mine was answered. A part of me expected nobody to step up to the plate. Another part of me expected every Nighthawk, AJ Phoenix, Donzig, or Nelly Angel would come crawling out of the woodwork to try and make a name for themselves….but I never expected arrogance….I never expected ignorance.”
He is lit up by the many candles surrounding the throne, giving him an almost Holy presence, but the sneer and the smirk defy that almost instantly.
“Though that is perhaps a failing on my part, no? Because I’ve been met with nothing but ever since I returned to the hallowed halls of the Xtreme Hardcore Federation……network. Everyone from Anthony Caffrey to Evan Valentine Junior, Bloodied Fox to Dylan Black, has done nothing but dismiss my legacy, shit on my name, and pretend that nothing I’ve done is worth a sack of shit, which….is idiotic really. I mean, the only reason these places ever became part of the XHF Network, is because they can’t quite cut it on their own.”
There is a glint in his eyes as he smirks towards the camera, his arms hanging lazily on the arms of his throne.
“Y’all need the big bad might of Mongo to help pull you out of the dirt….yet every single one of you seems to keep forgetting. I didn’t go running to Mongo for help, I didn’t go begging that piece of shit for a job - no no no….they came for me. Remember? I never begged for my release, I never made a sketchy deal, instead I turned out to be the subject of some sketchy deal. I figured my time was done, I figured the sun had set on the Spike Kane Legacy…”
With a nonchalant gesture, Spike reaches to his right and pulls a drinking horn seeming out of nowhere but the darkness. He slowly takes a sip, doing his absolute best to take as much time as he can, before letting out a satisfied sigh after his sip.
“Alas, here we are, almost a year later and Spike Kane did exactly what he said he was going to. He captured the X*Crown Championship, and added the FIRESIDE Spark Championship to the already incredible legacy I have built over the past two and a half decades….but still, I am looked down upon. I am disrespected. I am dismissed ....”
Now He slowly rises out of his throne, the light from the candles adding that menacing touch that makes Him look on the edge of snapping.
“No. More.”
He reaches out towards the camera and lifts it up ever so slightly to focus on his face.
“I don’t care who stands opposite me, I am going to get the respect I fucking deserve, one way….or another…”
With a sick grin, and a slight chuckle….we fade.
The journey has taken them a long time, if he was honest, Spike had forgotten how long they’d been gone. It took him a lot of effort at times to pull his head out of the idea that he was still stuck in hell. He was journeying with a talking red panda, who could mind read and do magic, as well as a talking giant turtle who had some serious anger issues. Not to mention his Daughter from the future who had returned to meet him before he died, only to find out her timeline had been aborted when she tried to return. Now she was travelling with Spike, and still, the God of Xtreme didn’t know what to make of any of this.
Tomo: Are we there yet?
Hope: What do you mean are we there yet, isn’t this your portal? You’re the one who said you knew a shortcut!”
Tomo: Well yeah, but….I’m also 3.
The journey was clearly taking its toll on the group's dynamic, and Spike was doing his best to not lose control.
Spike: ….is it taking us where we need to be or not?
Tomo: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand done.
With an almost too abrupt sudden stop, the four of them seem to be inside a whirlwind one moment, and then outside of a very plain looking two story house with a simple plain black door.
Dax: Wait, ‘dis is it? It don’t look like no Hell I ever saw.
Tomo: Well, there’s more than one Dax.
Hope: Wait, there is?
Tomo: Come on, would you not call where you came from “a” Hell?
The three of them bicker and talk amongst themselves as Spike slowly begins to walk away from them and towards the door. As he looks, a faint glimmer of light falls across the door, and reveals the Number “666” in black on the front, almost hidden in plain view.
Hope: That’s not really the same though, is it?
Dax: I went to a hell once.
Tomo: For all I know, I’m from one!
Hope: What?
Tomo: Lady, I can shoot magic bolts out of my hands, I can read people's minds and I can do other scary things too. I’m three years old!
Dax: Yeah someone made a deal somewhere I guess.
Hope: Wait, where’s my Dad?
The three of them quickly turn to look for Spike, as we see the door to the house slowly closing with a sound that makes it seem like the door is closed for good.
Dax: Oh balls…
Tomo: Not a door! My one weakness!
Hope: Dad? Dad!? DAD!
She ran towards the door, as Dax and Tomo tried to stop her. Hope ran full pelt and was just about to begin hammering on the door, when an unseeable force pushed not just her, but Dax and Tomo flying backwards, while the door remained closed.
The voice echoed through the corridor of the small house, bouncing off of every wall. Spike stood with his back to the door, trying to assess the threats before him, fists raised, eyes darting back and forth.
“You know damn well it was!”
He shouted out to the disembodied voice. Laughter began to fill the small house, which as Spike looked around ever so slowly in the dim light, was a reflection of the home his family had. The small cottage near the cliffs, not too far away from Belfast itself. As Spike walked through the hall, the photographs lined on the walls shifted and changed. The images of his mother and father shifting and looking wrong. Just wrong.
“My brother, really? You make out that I’m only out of here because Mongo the fucking Destroyer made some bullshit deal over a decade ago, and how I had to win the X*Crown Championship to be free, but him? He just walks, because, what? Just because?”
“Not a fucking chance. I am the one who carved the name Kane into wrestling legacy. I am the one who went out there week after week, night after night, show after show, year after fucking year! I’ve excelled everywhere I’ve gone!”
The voice almost seemed to form a shadow, before the shadowy smoke began to form in place, and there in front of Spike Kane, stood Bradley Allen Kane.
“I’m done being fucked with. You’re not him and we both know it…”
As the words left Spike’s mouth, the figure changed shape first to River Maddison, then to Nola, then to Zell Kane, the son Spike lost due to his heart condition, before stopping on the image of Xander Aiden Kane. The son Spike lost weeks after losing his own brother, exactly ten years to the day that Zell died. Xander, who had found his mothers gun that she had bought after a home invasion….stood in front of Spike, with a hole right through his head.
“I’ll kill you.”
Tears streamed down Spike’s face as he was forced once again to relive the moments of finding his poor boy, his fists were clenched so tight blood was beginning to trickle from his hands.
“SO WHY AM I HERE!?”
Flames burst from Spike’s eyes as the anger encompassed his body.
“I never was free…”
“So…what’s the catch?”
The laughter returned as the smokey image shimmered and then turned into a cloud of smoke before rushing past Spike, forcing him to turn around and see his reflection in the mirror. Before him was a reflection with large burning horns growing out of his head, and a dark black aura around him.
“No…”
“....I’m a demon”
“NO!”
As Spike slammed his fist into the mirror, the house twisted, it turned into a skyscraper filled with businessmen, then a very large white house filled with “businessmen” then a large dungeon, before finally Spike was hurtled outwards through the door, only to land a few feet in front of his friends and daughter.
Tomo: Holy shit, are you OK?
Hope: Dad! Dad!? Are you ok!? What happened?
Dax: …ugh. Did anyone else see the house disappear!?
Breathing deeply, trying to calm his emotions, Spike looked up at his daughter. The tears were still stinging his eyes but had mostly dried. He looked up with her and his heart sank as the voice’s words echoed in his mind.
He pulled Hope into him and buried his face in her shoulder as he held onto her, as if both of their lives depended on it, the laughter echoing through and through his brain.
Skull Throne. Candles. You know the drill, King Edgelord at his finest.
“I have to say, in all my time in this business, it has actually been quite rare to come across a fellow Irishman in the ring, competitively of course. Those pathetic Americans whose great-great-great-grandpa's best friend was Irish, so they claim our heritage….like Nighthawk, you know as well as I do that they don’t count. I trained an Irishwoman, Shea O’Hara, she went on to become a fantastic success, in all honesty, probably one of my greatest students….but to actually stand across the ring from someone who takes pride in their home the same as me? That’s something new…”
He shifts his body weight atop the throne, slowly running a hand through his beard.
“Shame I’m from the North, eh? Christ, where I grew up that was enough for some folks like you and me to go to fucking war, instead, we’re aiming our aggresion inside the squared circle. On the one and only GUN Show.”
Despite the surroundings, Spike still has time to flash a wink at the camera and a cheap plug thumbs up.
“Jason Long, the man who would be King…..like so many useless, boring, ineffective, unoriginal morons before him. A man who would be Spike Kane two point oh, for all intents and purposes, no? Please Jason, enlighten me, tell me and the viewers around the world why you aren’t just another Spike clone, why you aren’t just someone trying to be something they are not….you see, you spout from your mouth - which I get, I’m the same, don’t worry - about being the King of Wrestling….”
Air quotes, in case you didn’t get that part.
“I was never a King, no….apart from that one time I became XHF’s ONLY King of the Hill….but I digress, no, why would I need to be a King, when I was an EMPEROR! I lead an Empire, not once, but twice, and both of those times I lead as a true leader does, I lead with the World Championship around my waist. I ruled with an iron fist, and I literally crucified those who stood against me.”
That sick grin keeps finding its way back to his face.
“....good times, good times. See, we can stand here and measure dicks if you want to Jason, I genuinely don’t care. You see, for you, this is the final run. This is the endgame. This is your long road into the sunset. Do you know what mine was? My final year, my road into the sunset? ….it ended with a briefcase to the skull…but I was on top of the world when it happened. I died as the Imperial Champion, I guess technically, I still should be the Imperial Champion, no? You’ve had a five year career…..five. It’s been stellar, don’t get me wrong. Real recognises real, but if you honestly think your five years stack up to my TWENTY five? You’ve got to be kidding me. Jason, I’ve been doing what you’ve been doing for five years, for the last two and a half decades. I’ve been at the top of every federation, and I’ve left a mark, a legacy….shit….I did in one year more than you did in five….”
As Spike sneers this down the camera, the light behind him kicks on and illuminates an entire wall full of plaques, trophies, shields, medals, awards for everything from Match of the Night to Hall of Fame. Immediately around the throne however, is an elaborately decked out trophy cabinet, with a replica of every belt Spike has ever won. The 16 World Titles either side of the throne. The 30 tag team titles lining the outside, and everything else in between, with the X*Crown positioned right above the throne.
“I don’t need to stand here and list my accomplishments. I don’t need to tell you how many world titles I’ve won, how many times I’ve been inducted into a federations Hall of Fame, I don’t even need to tell you how many fucking Match of the Year, or end of year awards I’ve won because realistically Jason? I am the one who has seen it all, done it all, but you know that don’t you Jason? You know, because deep down inside? You’re just a Spike Kane fan, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Once I kick your ass at the GUN Show? I’ll be sure to sign whatever cast you end up in.”
Another wink, and a thumbs up, but this time with a more sinister chuckle.
“Now I demand you all, each and every one of you, pay me the respect I am due. I don’t care if I have to stomp your face into the ground until you can’t breathe anymore, I don’t care if I have to put you into the hospital and get you set on a lovely liquid diet through your broken jaw. I am the God of Xtreme Jason, and not because I choose to be, not because I found some nifty little label to affix to myself, no….because that name was bestowed upon me during my reign of terror, during my absolute destruction of BLW which in the first instance actually led me to XHF…..”
As he talks, Spike gestures to his side, almost absent mindedly, as the BLW Total Violence Championship he beat Rat Bastard for lights up, shortly after the BLW World Title follows suit. Spike just has a shit eating grin on his face.
“A few years later, with a Rumble win, a US Title win, King of the Hill, and two XHF Championship reigns? I left. I bailed because I stood here as a two time XHF Champion and I still got treated like shit. I still got looked down on by my peers. I still was just the chair swinging idiot from Ireland with the really bad childhood….my talents? My abilities? My fucking worth ethic? My dedication to this craft, my absolute commitment to being the best? It all meant nothing to these fucking pissants….so I took that XHF Title….”
He gestures again, and this time the space for the XHF Championship lights up, the burnt, crispy, slightly melted remains on show for all to see.
“I threw it in the trash, and I set that bitch on fire, live on global television, on some shitty federations TV Show, just to send a message. It’s funny to me still, because I STILL have to send that message on a regular basis. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you. I didn’t need the XHF, no, they needed me! I didn’t need FIRESIDE, nope….I proved my point, and I bounced from shithole because I am not some young hot blooded rookie trying to please the boss man to climb the ladder….no, motherfucker, I AM the ladder!”
In a flash of motion, Spike bolts from his throne, the trophy case, the wall of fame all dim back to darkness as Spike’s snarling face moves closer to the camera, his demeanour completely different to before.
“I am the fucking benchmark, and I have been for at least a decade. You take a look at other federations with a 16 Time World Champion, and you tell me how differently they are treated to me. So yeah, Jason….I have a chip on my shoulder, I always have, and lately? Perhaps I haven’t been feeding that part of me enough, perhaps it’s time to abandon the niceties. Abandon the act of trying to push the new boys in the right direction, give them the advice they need, give them the matches to put them on the map….no, not anymore.”
He shakes his head as he slowly turns from the camera, taking a few steps back to his throne.
“Fuck everyone.”
Double birds for good measure.
“Either you acknowledge me, or I’ll be forced to make you, but have no second thoughts or doubts, because I will be more than happy to force you. In fact I’ll do it with a smile on my face in a state of glee, because causing people pain makes me happy. It’s one of the only things I have ever excelled at, and fucking boy do I excel at it. I’m going to put you through your paces Long, I’m going to push you harder and further than anyone you have ever shared the ring with, on that I can guarantee. Dismiss my “Godhood” all you like, I don’t claim to be a God, I simply AM The God of Xtreme, The Blood God, the Bloodthirster, I am your reckoning Jason, and it seems to be like it’s about time you faced one….”
Spike looks at the camera, smirking just like The Ace would.
“You call yourself the man who won’t die….”
He slowly sits back down on his throne, assured of himself once again.
“....I say it’s time we put that to the test.”
He delivers the words almost like a thinly veiled threat, but it seems more like a plan of action. He extends both of his arms, either side of him, as the flame begin to grow bigger and brighter.
“All. Bloody. Hail.”
Fade on the image of Spike smirking, arms outstretched, head raised, as he looks down his nose at the camera, and therefore you….reading this. Yes you.
A throne made of skulls.
Atop it sits Spike Kane.
“I was taken aback when this open challenge of mine was answered. A part of me expected nobody to step up to the plate. Another part of me expected every Nighthawk, AJ Phoenix, Donzig, or Nelly Angel would come crawling out of the woodwork to try and make a name for themselves….but I never expected arrogance….I never expected ignorance.”
He is lit up by the many candles surrounding the throne, giving him an almost Holy presence, but the sneer and the smirk defy that almost instantly.
“Though that is perhaps a failing on my part, no? Because I’ve been met with nothing but ever since I returned to the hallowed halls of the Xtreme Hardcore Federation……network. Everyone from Anthony Caffrey to Evan Valentine Junior, Bloodied Fox to Dylan Black, has done nothing but dismiss my legacy, shit on my name, and pretend that nothing I’ve done is worth a sack of shit, which….is idiotic really. I mean, the only reason these places ever became part of the XHF Network, is because they can’t quite cut it on their own.”
There is a glint in his eyes as he smirks towards the camera, his arms hanging lazily on the arms of his throne.
“Y’all need the big bad might of Mongo to help pull you out of the dirt….yet every single one of you seems to keep forgetting. I didn’t go running to Mongo for help, I didn’t go begging that piece of shit for a job - no no no….they came for me. Remember? I never begged for my release, I never made a sketchy deal, instead I turned out to be the subject of some sketchy deal. I figured my time was done, I figured the sun had set on the Spike Kane Legacy…”
With a nonchalant gesture, Spike reaches to his right and pulls a drinking horn seeming out of nowhere but the darkness. He slowly takes a sip, doing his absolute best to take as much time as he can, before letting out a satisfied sigh after his sip.
“Alas, here we are, almost a year later and Spike Kane did exactly what he said he was going to. He captured the X*Crown Championship, and added the FIRESIDE Spark Championship to the already incredible legacy I have built over the past two and a half decades….but still, I am looked down upon. I am disrespected. I am dismissed ....”
Now He slowly rises out of his throne, the light from the candles adding that menacing touch that makes Him look on the edge of snapping.
“No. More.”
He reaches out towards the camera and lifts it up ever so slightly to focus on his face.
“I don’t care who stands opposite me, I am going to get the respect I fucking deserve, one way….or another…”
With a sick grin, and a slight chuckle….we fade.
—
THEN
—
The journey has taken them a long time, if he was honest, Spike had forgotten how long they’d been gone. It took him a lot of effort at times to pull his head out of the idea that he was still stuck in hell. He was journeying with a talking red panda, who could mind read and do magic, as well as a talking giant turtle who had some serious anger issues. Not to mention his Daughter from the future who had returned to meet him before he died, only to find out her timeline had been aborted when she tried to return. Now she was travelling with Spike, and still, the God of Xtreme didn’t know what to make of any of this.
Tomo: Are we there yet?
Hope: What do you mean are we there yet, isn’t this your portal? You’re the one who said you knew a shortcut!”
Tomo: Well yeah, but….I’m also 3.
The journey was clearly taking its toll on the group's dynamic, and Spike was doing his best to not lose control.
Spike: ….is it taking us where we need to be or not?
Tomo: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand done.
With an almost too abrupt sudden stop, the four of them seem to be inside a whirlwind one moment, and then outside of a very plain looking two story house with a simple plain black door.
Dax: Wait, ‘dis is it? It don’t look like no Hell I ever saw.
Tomo: Well, there’s more than one Dax.
Hope: Wait, there is?
Tomo: Come on, would you not call where you came from “a” Hell?
The three of them bicker and talk amongst themselves as Spike slowly begins to walk away from them and towards the door. As he looks, a faint glimmer of light falls across the door, and reveals the Number “666” in black on the front, almost hidden in plain view.
Hope: That’s not really the same though, is it?
Dax: I went to a hell once.
Tomo: For all I know, I’m from one!
Hope: What?
Tomo: Lady, I can shoot magic bolts out of my hands, I can read people's minds and I can do other scary things too. I’m three years old!
Dax: Yeah someone made a deal somewhere I guess.
Hope: Wait, where’s my Dad?
The three of them quickly turn to look for Spike, as we see the door to the house slowly closing with a sound that makes it seem like the door is closed for good.
Dax: Oh balls…
Tomo: Not a door! My one weakness!
Hope: Dad? Dad!? DAD!
She ran towards the door, as Dax and Tomo tried to stop her. Hope ran full pelt and was just about to begin hammering on the door, when an unseeable force pushed not just her, but Dax and Tomo flying backwards, while the door remained closed.
So you’ve returned?
Was the façade too much?
He shouted out to the disembodied voice. Laughter began to fill the small house, which as Spike looked around ever so slowly in the dim light, was a reflection of the home his family had. The small cottage near the cliffs, not too far away from Belfast itself. As Spike walked through the hall, the photographs lined on the walls shifted and changed. The images of his mother and father shifting and looking wrong. Just wrong.
I wonder what was the straw that broke the camel's back?
You fear he’s better than you.
….yet here you are?
“I’m done being fucked with. You’re not him and we both know it…”
As the words left Spike’s mouth, the figure changed shape first to River Maddison, then to Nola, then to Zell Kane, the son Spike lost due to his heart condition, before stopping on the image of Xander Aiden Kane. The son Spike lost weeks after losing his own brother, exactly ten years to the day that Zell died. Xander, who had found his mothers gun that she had bought after a home invasion….stood in front of Spike, with a hole right through his head.
“I’ll kill you.”
Tears streamed down Spike’s face as he was forced once again to relive the moments of finding his poor boy, his fists were clenched so tight blood was beginning to trickle from his hands.
No you won’t, we both know that. If you could, you would have done it by now.
Flames burst from Spike’s eyes as the anger encompassed his body.
You’re here to realise the truth.
Oh, you’re free alright.
The laughter returned as the smokey image shimmered and then turned into a cloud of smoke before rushing past Spike, forcing him to turn around and see his reflection in the mirror. Before him was a reflection with large burning horns growing out of his head, and a dark black aura around him.
“No…”
There’s only one way you escape Hell dear boy.
IN ONE! Ha ha ha ha….you’re darkness embodied my boy, and you corrupt everyone you meet. Everything you touch, long before you had my darkness in you. The Kane Curse, bestowed upon your family line by the deal your father made…..you were always mine, no matter what you did with your life.
You’re all mine.
Every.
Single.
KANE.
Every.
Single.
KANE.
As Spike slammed his fist into the mirror, the house twisted, it turned into a skyscraper filled with businessmen, then a very large white house filled with “businessmen” then a large dungeon, before finally Spike was hurtled outwards through the door, only to land a few feet in front of his friends and daughter.
Tomo: Holy shit, are you OK?
Hope: Dad! Dad!? Are you ok!? What happened?
Dax: …ugh. Did anyone else see the house disappear!?
Breathing deeply, trying to calm his emotions, Spike looked up at his daughter. The tears were still stinging his eyes but had mostly dried. He looked up with her and his heart sank as the voice’s words echoed in his mind.
You corrupt everyone you meet. Everything you touch…..ha ha ha….hahaha….
—
Skull Throne. Candles. You know the drill, King Edgelord at his finest.
“I have to say, in all my time in this business, it has actually been quite rare to come across a fellow Irishman in the ring, competitively of course. Those pathetic Americans whose great-great-great-grandpa's best friend was Irish, so they claim our heritage….like Nighthawk, you know as well as I do that they don’t count. I trained an Irishwoman, Shea O’Hara, she went on to become a fantastic success, in all honesty, probably one of my greatest students….but to actually stand across the ring from someone who takes pride in their home the same as me? That’s something new…”
He shifts his body weight atop the throne, slowly running a hand through his beard.
“Shame I’m from the North, eh? Christ, where I grew up that was enough for some folks like you and me to go to fucking war, instead, we’re aiming our aggresion inside the squared circle. On the one and only GUN Show.”
Despite the surroundings, Spike still has time to flash a wink at the camera and a cheap plug thumbs up.
“Jason Long, the man who would be King…..like so many useless, boring, ineffective, unoriginal morons before him. A man who would be Spike Kane two point oh, for all intents and purposes, no? Please Jason, enlighten me, tell me and the viewers around the world why you aren’t just another Spike clone, why you aren’t just someone trying to be something they are not….you see, you spout from your mouth - which I get, I’m the same, don’t worry - about being the King of Wrestling….”
Air quotes, in case you didn’t get that part.
“I was never a King, no….apart from that one time I became XHF’s ONLY King of the Hill….but I digress, no, why would I need to be a King, when I was an EMPEROR! I lead an Empire, not once, but twice, and both of those times I lead as a true leader does, I lead with the World Championship around my waist. I ruled with an iron fist, and I literally crucified those who stood against me.”
That sick grin keeps finding its way back to his face.
“....good times, good times. See, we can stand here and measure dicks if you want to Jason, I genuinely don’t care. You see, for you, this is the final run. This is the endgame. This is your long road into the sunset. Do you know what mine was? My final year, my road into the sunset? ….it ended with a briefcase to the skull…but I was on top of the world when it happened. I died as the Imperial Champion, I guess technically, I still should be the Imperial Champion, no? You’ve had a five year career…..five. It’s been stellar, don’t get me wrong. Real recognises real, but if you honestly think your five years stack up to my TWENTY five? You’ve got to be kidding me. Jason, I’ve been doing what you’ve been doing for five years, for the last two and a half decades. I’ve been at the top of every federation, and I’ve left a mark, a legacy….shit….I did in one year more than you did in five….”
As Spike sneers this down the camera, the light behind him kicks on and illuminates an entire wall full of plaques, trophies, shields, medals, awards for everything from Match of the Night to Hall of Fame. Immediately around the throne however, is an elaborately decked out trophy cabinet, with a replica of every belt Spike has ever won. The 16 World Titles either side of the throne. The 30 tag team titles lining the outside, and everything else in between, with the X*Crown positioned right above the throne.
“I don’t need to stand here and list my accomplishments. I don’t need to tell you how many world titles I’ve won, how many times I’ve been inducted into a federations Hall of Fame, I don’t even need to tell you how many fucking Match of the Year, or end of year awards I’ve won because realistically Jason? I am the one who has seen it all, done it all, but you know that don’t you Jason? You know, because deep down inside? You’re just a Spike Kane fan, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Once I kick your ass at the GUN Show? I’ll be sure to sign whatever cast you end up in.”
Another wink, and a thumbs up, but this time with a more sinister chuckle.
“Now I demand you all, each and every one of you, pay me the respect I am due. I don’t care if I have to stomp your face into the ground until you can’t breathe anymore, I don’t care if I have to put you into the hospital and get you set on a lovely liquid diet through your broken jaw. I am the God of Xtreme Jason, and not because I choose to be, not because I found some nifty little label to affix to myself, no….because that name was bestowed upon me during my reign of terror, during my absolute destruction of BLW which in the first instance actually led me to XHF…..”
As he talks, Spike gestures to his side, almost absent mindedly, as the BLW Total Violence Championship he beat Rat Bastard for lights up, shortly after the BLW World Title follows suit. Spike just has a shit eating grin on his face.
“A few years later, with a Rumble win, a US Title win, King of the Hill, and two XHF Championship reigns? I left. I bailed because I stood here as a two time XHF Champion and I still got treated like shit. I still got looked down on by my peers. I still was just the chair swinging idiot from Ireland with the really bad childhood….my talents? My abilities? My fucking worth ethic? My dedication to this craft, my absolute commitment to being the best? It all meant nothing to these fucking pissants….so I took that XHF Title….”
He gestures again, and this time the space for the XHF Championship lights up, the burnt, crispy, slightly melted remains on show for all to see.
“I threw it in the trash, and I set that bitch on fire, live on global television, on some shitty federations TV Show, just to send a message. It’s funny to me still, because I STILL have to send that message on a regular basis. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you. I didn’t need the XHF, no, they needed me! I didn’t need FIRESIDE, nope….I proved my point, and I bounced from shithole because I am not some young hot blooded rookie trying to please the boss man to climb the ladder….no, motherfucker, I AM the ladder!”
In a flash of motion, Spike bolts from his throne, the trophy case, the wall of fame all dim back to darkness as Spike’s snarling face moves closer to the camera, his demeanour completely different to before.
“I am the fucking benchmark, and I have been for at least a decade. You take a look at other federations with a 16 Time World Champion, and you tell me how differently they are treated to me. So yeah, Jason….I have a chip on my shoulder, I always have, and lately? Perhaps I haven’t been feeding that part of me enough, perhaps it’s time to abandon the niceties. Abandon the act of trying to push the new boys in the right direction, give them the advice they need, give them the matches to put them on the map….no, not anymore.”
He shakes his head as he slowly turns from the camera, taking a few steps back to his throne.
“Fuck everyone.”
Double birds for good measure.
“Either you acknowledge me, or I’ll be forced to make you, but have no second thoughts or doubts, because I will be more than happy to force you. In fact I’ll do it with a smile on my face in a state of glee, because causing people pain makes me happy. It’s one of the only things I have ever excelled at, and fucking boy do I excel at it. I’m going to put you through your paces Long, I’m going to push you harder and further than anyone you have ever shared the ring with, on that I can guarantee. Dismiss my “Godhood” all you like, I don’t claim to be a God, I simply AM The God of Xtreme, The Blood God, the Bloodthirster, I am your reckoning Jason, and it seems to be like it’s about time you faced one….”
Spike looks at the camera, smirking just like The Ace would.
“You call yourself the man who won’t die….”
He slowly sits back down on his throne, assured of himself once again.
“....I say it’s time we put that to the test.”
He delivers the words almost like a thinly veiled threat, but it seems more like a plan of action. He extends both of his arms, either side of him, as the flame begin to grow bigger and brighter.
“All. Bloody. Hail.”
Fade on the image of Spike smirking, arms outstretched, head raised, as he looks down his nose at the camera, and therefore you….reading this. Yes you.