Post by Spike Kane on Mar 16, 2022 12:54:18 GMT -5
I feel like no matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how much I prove myself, and no matter how much I eclipse those who came before me, or those who claim to be my peers….I’ll never get the respect I deserve.
As if I’d ever expect respect from the likes of you El Rey.
Lord knows your old man never gave me an ounce of respect, so why would the apple fall any further from the tree? I mean, as far as wrestling goes, it’s true right? I’m not naive, or stupid enough to try and say your pops wasn’t a legend of this business. He was, and probably always will be, especially with someone like you carrying on his legacy.
Or leeching off it, whichever is the flavour of the month.
Thing is, as far as I’m concerned champ? You’re exactly like your old man. You reek of arrogance, and you stink of disrespect, just like him, I guess being a cunt runs in the family. I’m not stranger to that, but you’re doing the same thing everyone else does….you’re looking past me, you’re underestimating me, and you’re dismissing me out of hand.
That never seems to work to well.
In my earlier days, it helped me in the ring a lot. You see, when people expect so little of you, when you hit them in the face with exactly what you’re capable of? It takes them down a notch. You catch them off guard, and you make them fucking suffer for looking down their noses at you. I’ve been doing it for twenty fives years kid….I’ve had a lot of people look down their nose at me, dismiss me, and ignore my ability, my legacy….it doesn’t matter to me if you’re Venom, or Anthony Caffrey, Angel Blake or JFK, Bradley Allen Kane or Dylan fucking Black.
You owe me respect.
Half of you jumped up little pricks wouldn’t even have a company to wrestle in, if it wasn’t for me and people like me. I kept the flame of XHF burning long after the doors were closed, I kept our brand of violence alive, and I did it while at the top of every single fucking mountain I’ve ever come across.
Even here, Rey.
Even the XHF.
I’d say twice, but it’s really three times now isn’t it? Two time XHF Champion, one time X*Crown Champion.
….for now.
~~~
It was late, and the weather really had gone to shit. What felt like the start of spring had suddenly slapped everyone in the face with the remnants of winter. Cold, that bitter cold that stabs at you, and windy, the kind of wind that blows right through you. Spike pulled his beanie down tighter, as he gave up pulling the hood on his jacket up, the wind would only blow it off right away again. As he walks down the road, he nears a corner and begins to slow down.
“The Kerryman”
The sign outside reads, there’s muffled noise coming from inside, sounds of laughter, talking, and music. Spike cracks his neck once before he enters the Pub. Instantly a wave of noise washed over him as he shuffled amongst the people towards the bar, the feeling inside was one of warmth and to a certain extent, joy.
“What’ll ye be havin?” the barmaid asked.
“Guiness” Spike replied monotonous.
She looked him up and down, taking in his strange accent, even with just one word. Having been born in Ireland, raised in England, and spending most of his adult life in the United States of America, Spike’s accent had taken a beating. Spike turned to look around the bar, and that’s when he made eye contact with someone who clearly recognised him. He tried to turn but the young man was already making his way to the bar, excitement in his eyes.
“Oh my god, are you that Spike Kane fella?” the excited young man asked.
“The only and only kid.” Spike grumbled back.
“No way, what are you doing here!? Ain’t you s’posed to be on some mad ass adventure, or a quest to hell or some shit?” he rambled.
“....look man, I just wanna be the shitty paddy everyone expects me to be, and have a few pints to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day” he turned sideways as he spoke while the barmaid placed the now finished pint of Guinness on the counter, and Spike held his phone up to the device to pay.
“Hey, we can do better than that….come on….bring yer pint!” the young man wondered to a corner of the room where his friends had been sitting.
Spike slowly picked up the glass and took a long sip before closing his eyes and sighing. Real Guinness. Proper Guinness. No substitute. He looked over to the direction the man had gone only to realise he’d gone to a very small square stage that had a drumkit and some microphone stands on. A flute began playing, and instantly Spike was hit with a wave of memories and nostalgia as the song wormed it’s way into his ear.
“We’re on the one road, sharing the one load.
We’re on the road to God knows where.
We’re on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we’re together now who cares!”
In time with several people in the Pub, Spike raised his glass and joined in.
“North men! South men!
Comrades all!
Dublin! Belfast! Cork! And Donegal!”
What had been a calm place mere moments before was now filled with grown adults standing up, singing at the top of their lungs, hugging each other and singing the songs of their people, and smack dab in the middle, smiling for what seems like the first genuine reason in a long time, is Spike Kane.
~~~
I don’t like you. I don’t. You come from a wrestling family, and it shows. It’s probably the same way people feel about all eight thousand of my kids, and everyone else who wants to leech off my name, but you? The absolute smugness of you, the just pure undiluted douchebag that you are, it’s so bad that people will be cheering my name come game time.
Me.
The guy who nearly killed his brother.
The guy who hospitalised his own son.
The guy who chopped off his best friend's finger.
The guy who crucified Xavier Cross.
The guy who ended Joe Everyman’s single solitary world championship reign, and his career.
The literal guy from hell.
Yet it’ll be me they cheer, egging me on to kick ten shades of shit out of you, and let’s be frank here kid, I don’t need much egging on. You see, your link to your old man is all I need. All I need to want to smash your face in, is see Venom staring back at me. Venom and the Young Guns, always putting me down, always treating me like shit, always dismissing my accomplishments, and no matter how things change, they still stay the same right? Everyone running around the insane asylum that is the XHF Network says the same tired, old, worn out schtick that they did.
I left the XHF, and it crumbled to pieces.
In it’s place I played an integral part in building nCw.
I left, and it crumbled to pieces.
In it’s place I played an even more integral role in building IWF.
The less we say about it’s current state the better, y’know?
I am a sixteen time world champion kid. Do you know how many others there are in our wonderful world who boast such a legacy? They’re certainly treated with a lot more fucking respect than I am. I’ve been everyone, I’ve done everything, there’s nothing you can do to me, that hasn’t been done before….and I’ve survived it all, I come out the otherside, smarter, stronger, better.
You’re too busy looking down your nose at me to realise what is standing in front of you.
Let’s be real though El Rey, we both know I have no intention of saving Dylan Black from an ass whooping, I was half tempted to join in….I just heard on the grapevine there was a supposed X*Crown defence for St. Patricks Day….and well, as the proud Irishman that I am, I offered my services….in the only way I know how.
You think it’s cheap?
I call it smart business shithead.
Everywhere I go, I light it up, and you are the X*Crown Champion. Who in their right mind is NOT going to tune in to see El Rey vs Spike Kane, live ONLY on the GUN Show!
That’s my one per promo.
Like so many others you seem to be obsessed with me taking the X*Crown, not from you - because you understand how that’s going to happen - but from GUNS. Like I’m just some one and done piece of shit. I signed a contract with GUNS before I signed for NLW, I am a GUNS wrestler with freelance options. When you get to be a big enough star that you can walk into literally any main event, these things tend to happen. Then again, the politics of the wrestling world have always been it’s seedy underbelly. Forget people trying to kill each other, or themselves in the ring, forget the rampant drug and alcohol abuse, forget the “hazing” forget the fact that there’s probably more STD’s in the wrestling business than there are brain cells….
Politics ruins wrestling.
But hey, you’re a son-of-a-GUN, so you’d know all about that, right?
You can mock me Kid, you can dismiss me all you like. You can play the pity card, about how the whole world is against you, but trust me you little fuck nugget, you haven’t seen anything close to what having the world against you is like, but don’t worry kid. You’re young, you’re flash, you’ve got talent, and you’ve got that aura about you…..just like your old man. Embrace it, feed off it, use it to propel you to the next level, fuck what anyone else thinks. Fuck their jealousy, because you’re the champion kid. You’re the fucking bullseye, and every motherfucker worth their salt wants what you have.
So make the most of it while you can.
I’ve done it for two and a half decades, kid.
Hard work pays off, dreams come true, bad times don’t last.
But bad guys do.
But bad guys do.
All Bloody Hail.