Story time.

[Ed/RD/LD]

{ We open on the Combat Wrestling Heavyweight Championship swaddled in an old black blankie being rocked slowly back and forth in a old wicker crib. A dry and calloused hand holds the side of the crib moving it from side to side. }

Killian: Hush little baby don’t say a word… Dad-dy Spike is going in the dirt…

{ Slowly we draw back in the dimly lit room to see Killian Kold crouched over the crib, a deranged smile spread across his face. }

Killian: If Dad-dy don‘t die… Then papa’s gonna stab him in the eye…

{ He looks lovingly down on the championship belt, gently rubbing the center medallion with his free hand. }

Killian: And if that eye doesn’t go blind… Then Dad-dies getting crucified…

{ Killian leans back in awe of the child like title firmly nestled in the crib as he seems to notice the camera watching him for the first time. }

Killian: Shhhhh… Don’t wake the baby.

{ Suddenly Killian lunges forward, his hand presumably grabbing the throat of the person holding the camera as all we can see for the moment is the Heavyweight Champions shoulder. }

Killian: Don’t. Wake. The. Baby.

{ We hear a muffled “Ok” as Killian pulls back, slowly back tracking toward a near by rocking chair. Killian takes a seat and seems relaxed for the moment as he closes his eyes. }

Killian: Once upon a time there was a little boy who dreamed to be a professional wrestler. Despite the protests of his parent he would watch all the wrestling he could. He would order video cassettes, watch through blurry pay per view lines, go to friends houses and use their parents credit cards. He yearned for it. He needed it. Professional wrestling became he’s inescapable dream.

{ Killian smiles as he starts to rock back and forth. }

Killian: As he got older he would wrestle with his friends. They would create their own little feuds and stores in their heads. They even made fancy names and gimmicks. Once he took a chair shot to his head in his friends backyard and earned himself a permanent scar. It was all so very cute…

{ His eyes open slowly. }

Killian: When he got older he decided to pursue this dream. He moved on from backyards and joined a real life professional wrestling school. He started to learn how to wrestle but unfortunately for our hero a heart problem cut that dream short. You see this boy was born with a weak heart. One that would need constant monitoring for the rest of his life. But like the fighter he was he wouldn’t let that stop him, no. With the little training he had he took to the indy circuit. Starting off as a hardcore specialist, someone who wasn’t afraid to risk his life for a cheap pop, he made a name for himself.

{ Killian audibly chuckles. }

Killian: The idiocy of youth. He put his body on the line for pennies. Earning scars instead of dollars but his hard work paid off. As the internet rose so did our hero. His matches became easily shareable and promotions started to take notice. Hard core wrestling was all the rage in the late nineties after all and our hero? He was hard core.

{ Killian’s rocking stops. }

Killian: His passion burned bright. He wouldn’t let his short comings stop him. For every dumpster fire of a hard core match he had he spent twice that amount of the time with trainers, perfecting his wrestling ability. Eventually he surpassed the style of wrestling he created, Xtreme wrestling. He became something of a god. But he desired more. He found more. He became a World Champion in countless promotions. A legend in countless promotions. He became a living god…

{ The smirk starts to fade now as Killian takes on a more serious demeanor. }

Killian: And then the God died…

{ A sort of rage spreads across the face of Kold. }

Killian: He found looooooove…

{ Killian seems to gag. }

Killian: He hung up the barbed wire for wedding bells. He stepped away from his passion to observe. He ceased to be the God of Xtreme and simply became a man who used to be.

{ Killian falls back into this chair and begins to rock again. }

Killian: And that is why Ethan King defeated him. That is why he lost half his company to a man I defeated as an after thought. That is why I’m the Combat Wrestling Heavy Weight Champion, calling my shots, doing as I wish and there is nothing he can do about it.

{ Killian points at his chest. }

Killian: My passion BURNSSSSSS. My passion thrives. This is all I ever want to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do. I will never stop, I will never relent, I will never become Daddy Spike, the neutered bitch of professional wrestling. I will never allow my dream to be co opted by an invading force. I will never allow my baby to be held by a psychopath. I. Will. Never.

{ His rocking stops. }

Killian: Become Daddy Spike…

{ He stands up. }

Killian: At Fury, Daddy Spike ceases to be the master and becomes the dearly departed. I will not mourn you. I will not shed a tear for you. I will simply continue as I always have ripping through every obstacle in my path. As for you?

{ Killian leans into the lens. }

Killian: You will finally understand Daddy’s greatest lesson.

{ His breath fogs the camera as he speaks. }

Killian: Weakness cannot be tolerated.

{ Fade. To. Black. }