I have nothing but... [Hostile Intent Pt. 2]

[Spike Kane]

One day maybe someone will say something that isn’t regurgitated shit I have heard from every bingo hall superstar, never was, and never will be across this wonderful world we call professional wrestling.

Then again, none of you are smart enough to come through on that, are you?

You’ll sit there and tell the world how Spike Kane is an old man past his prime, who isn’t relevant, or is a shadow of his former self. Meanwhile, I’m expected to step to the side while everyone blows Seth Dillinger?

Get fucked, the lot of you.

There’s this …feeling around the XHF Network, it's ... .let's call it what it is, it’s cliquey bullshit, but then that would be continuing the long lasting legacy of the XHF. It used to be the Young Guns, now it’s the “Former AWF” wrestlers.

….did y’all forget I helped launch that piss pot company?

I am a 16 time world heavyweight champion, but please let’s put that to one side so we can figuratively suck the dick of someone who doesn’t even come close - neither do you by the way Fox, which I know is odd of me to say after the respect I’ve shown you these past few months, but I’m so over your “woe is me” drama.

Fuck you.

Fuck Seth Dillinger.

…and Cage? If you’re really ready to hand over the title, rather than defend it like a champion? It’s real simple kid.

Get on your knees and bow down.

~~~

“What’s wrong Dad?”

Hope’s voice calls out, but it feels so distant to Spike. He tries to climb to his feet and walk towards the field where Dax, Tomo, and Hope are playing, but every step he takes seems to be him, in place.

“When will you understand?”

The other voice cut through the air, the laughter stopped, and Spike’s vision all but blurs for a moment as he rounds on the source of the voice. There stands a mirror, with Spike Kane staring back at him.

Spike: This isn’t real!

“Wow! He finally caught on!”

Spike: …wait…

With a trembling finger, Spike points to Tomo - the reflection nods.

“I think he’s getting it…”

Now he points to Dax, the reflection nods once more. As his finger moves to point towards Hope, his bottom jaw goes, and Spike is doing everything he can to fight back tears. He points at Hope, and the reflection nods.

“Mike…you need to snap out of it.”

Spike: I can’t. I can’t lose her….why? WHY!?

“Do you remember when you met Dax and Tomo?”

He stares back at the mirror, fists clenched, nodding.

“In Hell, right? You met a talking Red Panda and a stoner Tortle in hell….Michael…”

All of a sudden the world around Spike spins and whirls, and blends, before he finds himself sat in a large stuffy office, his long time psychiatrist sat in front of him.

“Do you remember, Michael? ..you told me you’d tortured your father for hours, taking absolute glee in it, before finding out it never was your father, it was your mother you’d been taking your anger and rage out on…it caused severe trauma Michael…”

Spike: No! Fuck this! Fuck you!

With a lunge, Spike is on his feet, shoving the doctor out of the way, and storming out of the office.

~~~

It takes a lot to be a champion. You know what I mean, not a figurehead, not someone to boost the company's sales, or ratings, or merch sales, or any of that absolute bullshit, you know what I mean…

A real champion.

Someone who understands the burden they carry when they have that weight around their waist. Someone who understands what it means to lead by example, and lead in that ring, night after night, show after show. I’ve done this, time after time. I left XHF and I wrestled for nCw, right into IWF…and I had more matches than any other member of either roster. I’d defend my title twice in one night, I’d defend my title whenever I was asked or challenged to, but NLW?

What’s the point of a world champion who isn’t around?

See…me? I don’t vibe that way, if I’m the champion, you’re going to know about it. You’re going to respect me, and you’re going to do it whether I earn it from you personally, or I beat it into you ... .personally.

I understand why my opponents want to play down the threat I offer, I understand why they’re trying to bluff the world into believing they both stand a chance against The God of Xtreme, and aren’t scared, but people are much easier to read than they think they are. Delude yourselves as much as you want, tell the world I don’t deserve to be here, call me a blunt instrument, call me a hired GUN, call me BB’s weapon, it doesn’t fucking matter.

Thespian seems to underestimate me too, but that’s okay….I’ve made a career out of people underestimating me. It’ll be quite fun educating you in the ring come Hostile Intent, showing you that I am far greater, and far more dangerous than a chair swinging maniac. I am the Blood God, the God of Xtreme…

…but finally, there’s Keahi Sparks.

Stay out of my way, that’s the only advice I can give you, it’s the only warning you’ll get, because if you do get in my way Keahi? You’ll be singing the same tune as Eli Dresden sooner rather than later.

I have no real beef with any of you, no real grudge, no real anger towards you…

You just need to know that I’m the best at what I do.

What I do ain’t nice.

All.

Bloody.

Hail.