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Climax Control Archives / Point Blank
« on: February 07, 2013, 11:28:48 PM »
Point Blank – With Sin City Wrestling Heavyweight Champion Spike Staggs
”You want raw? I’ll give you raw…”
When the Youtube sensation asked Spike Staggs to be a guest, he had his doubts. Where ever there is a camera, Spike always accepts the challenge. Spike is standing at the edge of the stage with a microphone in hand. He slowly lowers it from his mouth as he marches forward. As he walks, the triple chains on each side of him jingle with each step. He removes his leather jacket to better show off the SCW Heavyweight Championship belt wrapped around his waist. Due to his early entrance, it takes a few seconds, but his theme song “Get Up” by Korn and Skrillex begins playing. He stares up at the spotlight, reflecting it off of his sunglasses. He removes them, showing off his icy blue eyes. He is on a mission as he makes his way toward the short, pudgy red-headed host. With a proper handshake, Spike greets him before turning toward the cameras. He grins, showing off his perfect teeth that shine in the spotlight. He reaches behind him, taking the championship belt from around his waist and then he raises it into the air. The sound board director queues up the cheering audience audio file. Spike looks out into what is obviously an empty audience, but he treats it like a packed house. After posing for a few moments, he brings the belt back down to his side but points to his face. We freeze frame as he sticks his tongue out and a red target appears over his face and the Point Blank logo appears. After a moment of his theme and the clapping continues, the frame unfreezes and Spike turns back around toward the host who motions him over to his seat. Spike takes a seat, propping the belt on his shoulder and picking up the fresh and unopened bottle of water. He takes a few sips while the host winds down from the entrance. He adjusts the microphone on his dark blue sweater as he sits down in a chair across from Spike. The spotlight fades as the house lights come on, revealing a black curtain behind the lit up red panel that reads “Point Blank” in red neon lights.
Brett Samson: Thank you all and welcome to this edition of Point Blank. Let’s cut through the bullshit and get to the point… Spike Staggs is a man of many talents. Winning titles, getting gang attacked, and surrounding himself by losers so that he looks better by comparison. Oh, and making excuses. How could I forget that one? Thanks for being here today, Starfucker, Uh-huh-huh-I mean Spike.
Spike is caught completely off guard by the racy introduction. He does a double take, fire burning behind his icy eyes. He looks extremely pissed for a second while Brett smiles and presumably looks over to his security guys. Spike takes a deep breath through his nose and plasters on a genuine smile. He shakes his head, letting out a hearty laugh. Brett seems relieved as Spike rolls his eyes at the comment, pointing over to the host in a playful manner.
Spike: Oh… what’s-your-name… that… that right there is genuine and I respect you for that.
Brett: Ha, really?
Spike: Hell no, you idiot! I would respect it a lot more if you weren’t trying to get subscribes by having me attack you while your security team, which I would make short work of the lot, tries to reprimand me. You are about as much of a coward as I would have expected.
Spike says this while maintaining a joyous smile. He shrugs his shoulders as he watches the chubby cheeks of Brett’s turn a few shades of red. Spike looks over at the camera, shrugging his shoulders even higher as he holds his hands out to his side. Brett’s nostrils flare as he struggles to regain his composure. He holds up a cue card in front of him for a split second before clearing his throat.
Brett: I guess you are really in the spirit of the show. We are all about truths, folks. So, you are still trying to kick the dead horse known as the New X-Tremes. Why don’t you tell us why you just can’t admit defeat?
Spike: Before I do, please allow me to thank you for being a follower of mine on Twitter. For those of you not on my Twitter account, you can follow me @NXTSpikeStaggs. Go ahead and put the print right here…
Spike makes a rectangle down by his chest as his account name becomes visible inside of it. As if he is able to see it himself, he stops tracing the rectangle and returns his gaze to the somewhat confused and annoyed host.
Spike: I really do appreciate all of my followers. Especially the ones who read my every tweet and those related to them, like yourself, Brett.
Brett: But I do n…
Spike: Whoa there buddy, what happened to honesty? I thought we were in the circle of trust with the viewers, Brent.
Brett: It’s Brett…
Spike: Whatever. Next year, nobody will know your name anyway. See, I know you are full of shit, because you quoted word-for-word what “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward said to me just days ago. If you are going to be a dick, at least come up with original material. I think I at least deserve that much respect.
Spike flashes a smile at the flustered host. Brett clears his throat as he knows he is caught in the act. He quickly recovers as he adjusts himself in his seat.
Brett: For being the top face of Sin City Wrestling, you sure are an asshole. This isn’t the first time you have proved this. I guess I just don’t understand how people can possibly like someone like you.
Spike: I cut through the bullshit, Brent. I do everything I say I am going to do. I told the world I would win the NWA World Heavyweight Championship last year and I did. I told the world that I would be winning the SCW Heavyweight Championship, and I did. If I don’t like someone, I’m not going to sit back and bullshit you. I don’t like you, and that is very obvious. I don’t like Blade Alexander, and I don’t mince words when I let it be known.
Spike adjusts the SCW Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder, allowing it to be fully visible. As he is doing so, Brett holds up a finger to say something. Spike’s eyes shoot at him like daggers when he holds a hand up as if trying to block them. He starts to mutter something when Spike continues on with his rant.
Spike: I’m sure you want to bring up the fact that I was a heel for the majority of my career. Congratulations on doing one big of research on me, but that is not exactly my best kept secret. You see, I used to be the kind of creature that would shit on anyone just to get ahead. But I assure you, those days disappeared once my beautiful baby daughter was born. I found purpose. I wanted to be someone that she could look up to. I didn’t want to be a monster anymore, so I did everything I could to make amends for the wrongs I have done in life. Am I a Saint? Hell fucking no I’m not. Am I a big piece of shit? In some ways, I’m sure I am.
Spike looks over to Brett with an intense look on his face. His eyebrows lower, casting a bit of a shadow over his eyes. He picks up the bottle of water and brings it to his lips for a big swig. With the distraction provided for him, Brett loudly clears his throat as he shuffles through his cards once more.
Brett: Now, before I get accused of plagiarism again, allow me to take a moment to clarify that I am in fact paraphrasing your opponent for this Sunday at Climax Control, Blade Alexander. He seems to think…
Spike: Let me be the first to tell you that I don’t give a damn and two shits about what that fuckbag has to say about me. It is always the same thing, and frankly, I’ve proven that he is full of it already. Unlike Blade Alexander, I am not a broken record. I don’t need to spew the same madlib of a promo at the world. “I’m Blade Alexander, and Sin City Wrestling is useless. Everyone should like me because I am true wrestling. I have it in my blood and ‘insert name here’ is a loser. ‘Insert name here’ is what is wrong with SCW…” Blah blah blah. Piss off if you don’t like it. Does it get his little tic tac hard when he thinks he is *air quotes* putting us in our place? Does he get a sexual sort of thrill out of making us feel like we are worthless? I hate to break it to him or anyone who actually buys his pathetic bullshit, but that lasted all of one month for the majority of Sin City Wrestling. Part of the reason I wanted to sign with SCW was so that I could get the opportunity to fight a worthy competitor like I thought Blade was. I saw him tear up the competition early on, and I was ecstatic. The challenge excited me until I watched my brother Jamie defeat him. Not to say that my brother is a terrible wrestler, but he spent half of the match stealing nachos from the fans and toasting beers at the announce table, fucking off every chance he got and he still defeated Blade. It was a sad say.
Spike lowers his eyes in disappointment. He takes a deep breath, recalling the day he is speaking of. Brett nods his head with a smile spread across his face. He is obviously geeking out about the reference, but he does his best not to break his patented online persona. He straightens up and loosens his muscles, acting nonchalant about things.
Brett: There are many things I wanted to ask you about, including rumors of posing for Playgirl? I mean, who would want to see you naked?
Spike: Judging by the question I would say you do. My girlfriend does. Misty and Roxanne did and likely still do. Everyone has their crowd. I am sure there are some women out there that have fetishes for an overweight Seth Rogen type like you.
Brett: Well, I guess Twilight is pretty popular right now amongst fourteen year old girls and their hipster moms, so you might do pretty good for them. Is there any truth to the matter?
Spike shrugs his shoulders with a smile. He adjusts the belt once more and then he leans forward in his chair.
Spike: I am not allowed to discuss the matters of a contract that may or may not exist between myself and Playgirl magazine. But I would like to know… Why are you asking about me posing naked over this big *air quotes* Dream Match between myself and Blade Alexander? Does the thought of my naked body excite you more than the match?
Brett: Ugh, no!
Spike: You’re lying! I am not questioning your sexuality, but I bet that a million straight men would agree that me posing for Playgirl is more exciting news than me defending my title against Blade Alexander in a Main Event at Climax Control. And do you want to know why?
Brett: After your Twitter war of words, this match is very anticipated. NeWA, SCW, and ACW are all sponsoring it. It is one of the biggest matches being talked about in the indy wrestling circuit.
Spike’s cheeks become a slight shade of red as he straightens his back out. He rolls his shoulders around as he listens to Brett continue speaking about the hype of this match. Once Brett finishes, Spike can’t help but laugh. He sighs as he continues shaking his head back and forth slowly.
Spike: The only reason the match is being talked about is because I am in it. I draw attention. I put asses in seats because I work my ass off for my promotion. I go above and beyond the call of duty as a champion. Instead of sitting back and being happy with one championship, I am finally giving in and going back to competing in the NWA circuit, on a World Television level. I am doing it because it is what I do. I get the crowd going. I wrestle at the top of the game, and it isn’t because I am some Hollywood bastard who comes up with stupid little catchphrases. It isn’t because I pull my sunglasses off and raise an eyebrow. It isn’t because the masses have seen me in the fucking Tooth Fairy and Escape to Witch Mountain. The come to see me because I am excellent at what I do. I have trained in the US, Germany, Sweden, England, and picked up a few tricks on our Asian Invasion tour. I’m not some flash in a pan wrestler who was shat out of the womb of some dumb wrestling groupie, calling myself a Second Generation Wrestler. I spend hours in the gym every day working on my stance, my form, my balance, my agility, my execution. I spar three times a week to keep on the top of my game.
Brett: You give such eloquent speeches.
Spike: Funny. Now, seriously, I do everything I can to stay at the top of my game. On top of that, I promote the hell out of every match I am in. I sign autographs in ten degree weather. I do photo shoots in all areas of the world. I have so many damn frequent flyer miles, I could go to Hawaii on a daily basis if I wanted to. I am a good public speaker, because that is part of what you do when you are the face of a company. Not that Blade Alexander would know anything about that. I don’t have star power because the fans like me. I have star power because I perform at the top of my game ninety-nine percent of the time. Blade Alexander picks and chooses when he wants to put any effort into anything. He makes his snarky comments from a hundred miles away as if he is going to hurt my feelings, but the fact of the matter is that he is nothing but an annoying little mosquito that I have to keep batting away from my face. I can’t stand the constant buzzing in my ear because he can’t keep my name out of his jealous mouth.
Brett looks over at Spike with a stunned look on his face. He begins feeling useless as host because Spike doesn’t give him any room to speak. He rolls his eyes as Spike huffs and puffs during his rant. Spike could go even further, but Brett interjects himself quickly to have some sort of importance on his own show.
Brett: Someone obviously watched Blade Alexander’s promotional video for your match. There were a lot of raw things said in there, and a lot of people feel like maybe he broke your spirit. What do you have to say about that?
Spike snorts at the idea. He scrunches his eyebrows up as his jaw drops. He stares at Brett for literally almost a minute, silently, just looking him up and down. After Brett only returns the stare, Spike scoffs at him in return.
Spike: Seriously? You are asking me if I am broken by that? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. If I let assholes like that stop me from wrestling, I never would have made it into my second month of wrestling. Just because some fucking sycophant recycled his usual speech calling me a loser, and recycled something someone else came up with to make his own judgments of me doesn’t mean I am going to tuck my tail between my legs and run away. I hate repeating myself, but this guy is a fucking moron. He wants to sling all of these accusations at me to make me feel like a low-life piece of shit, when the truth is that he knows absolutely fuck all about what he’s saying. For instance, he said something akin to ‘Spike Staggs wonders why everyone turns their backs on him after working with him for a few months.’ What kind of bullshit is that? On the surface, maybe it seems that way because I work my ass off for what I have while certain others have not. I did my best to avoid the Heavyweight title scene in SCW so that I could help push people like Casey Williams and Jordan Williams toward it. Both men stepped up to the plate, and fell short. I worked with Casey for a number of months, but he just couldn’t seem to beat the likes of Nick Jones. Is that my fault? No, really… am I to blame for that?
Brett: I guess not.
Spike: No, it is not my fault. Jordan is supposed to be this icon. We parted ways respectfully so he could hunt the title, and he fell short. That is also not my fault. He salted my wounds by joining forces with the man ho helped put him in a lower league than he deserved. That’s his choice. My point is that I did not step on anyone to get to where I was. I avoided it until I couldn’t stand seeing Nick Jones prevail over every person Sin City Wrestling threw at him. If that is what Casey Williams, Jordan Williams, Giani Di Luca, and Misty thought, then I am sorry that you felt the need to stab me in the back instead of talking to me about it. If it makes me a piece of shit because I stepped up my game when none of you could, then it is what it is.
Spike shrugs his shoulders as he looks directly into the camera. He gets up from his seat, eliciting a curious/worried buzz from Brett who tries to quietly communicate to his team to cut. Spike grabs onto the webcam and he brings it close to his face, stopping anyone from ending his rant. He raises a hand in the air to stop them before bringing it up to his face.
Brett: Would somebody please get that camera away from him, for Christsake?
Spike: I am NOT finished yet! Not by a longshot! If Blade wants to bring up my personal life and dissect it for the masses, then that is fine. He is right about one thing. I do live my life in front of the camera. I am in front of them at all times because I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I live, eat, breathe, dream, and shit this sport. I might not be the model of sanity. I might not be a good role model for the children watching at home, but I am who I am. If Blade would bother to do his research on me before talking out of his ass, then he would know that ninety percent of what he said in his promo was purely and utterly ill-informed bullshit. The other ten percent was twisting reality to make me look like an idiot. Sadly, anyone who really knows fuck all about anything would know that the only one who looks stupid between the two of us is you…
Spike offers a wink to the camera as he readjusts it. His eyes narrow as he looks deep into the camera, staring there for just a moment as he tries to comprehend some thought lingering in the back of his mind. He grunts as he shakes his head from side to side once more, unable to come to terms with what is going on in his mind.
Spike: How dare you… How fucking dare you question my love for my children, or the women of my life. Roxanne and I had a beautiful child together despite the fact she decided to abandon me and make my life a living hell. And you can’t seem to comprehend that Misty walked out on me, and pulled a copycat move of Roxanne. I had love for both women and I never exploited anything they weren’t comfortable doing in front of a camera. Vixen and I are a couple in and outside of wrestling. We are both top notch competitors, and ferocious, uninhibited lovers. We live the industry, and feel no need to hide what we have from others. I understand that no woman would want to admit to letting you put your disgustingly unkempt, sweaty body over hers as she lets you violently thrash into her for five seconds of *air quotes* glory. I can see that, so if anyone is lonely enough to put up with that, my condolences. I truly feel sorry for you, and I respect your desire to remain anonymous. But, Blade… my friends, family, and loved ones were never only a storyline to me, you prick. They just shared the spotlight with me.
Spike spits into the lens as he speaks toward the end of his rant. His eyes show his intensity as he ends it. His nostrils flare up as he looks deep into the camera as if they were Blade’s eyes. The camera shakes with his intensity as he tries to calm himself down. It takes him a moment of silence to collect his thoughts, but eventually the camera stops shaking and Spike’s eyes widen to normal once again. He blinks his eyes a few times before returning his eyes to the camera once more and continues.
Spike: When I said the word storyline, I was referring to something, anything in your life that distinguishes you from everyone else around you, something that makes you marketable. Something that the fans can follow. Being an ignorant sycophant doesn’t distinguish you from anyone. Misty is an ignorant sycophant. Mark Ward is an ignorant sycophant. James Huntington-Hawkes… the third… is an ignorant sycophant. Giani Di Luca, “Primetime” Matthew Kennedy, Roxanne, Daniel Tyler, Goth, Nick Jones, Kain, Thatcher Rex, Angel Kash, Amanda Cortez, Casper Grey, Amy Marshall, and Necra Octavian Kane… are all ignorant sycophants. That doesn’t make you distinguishable. That makes you generic and boring. What do you have going for you? You choose to pick on people who have gone the route of distinguishing themselves, such as myself, Misty, Hawkes, and Hope Heelcum for stepping aside from the heard, and you call us circus sideshows? Do you really think sliding a little bit of guy-liner on your eyes makes you distinguishable? Are you trying to prove something? It seems more and more each day that you are trying to copy off of me and call it original.
Spike runs his fingers over his eyes and then points with two fingers into the camera, holding them there for just a second before moving them up and down to emphasize his point. He smiles and licks his bright white teeth as he brings his hand down to the side. Behind him, the host of the show tries to approach him from behind, but Spike turns just in time to avoid having the camera snatched out of his hands. The guy tries to reach over Spike’s shoulders to grab the camera, but his attempt is no good. Spike reaches back with his free hand and keeps the host at bay. He looks back to survey the situation before turning back to the camera to continue.
Spike: See, we should be friends. We both shoot straight. We don’t candy coat things. We are second generation superstars. But there is something about you where you think you have to be this ignorant asshole all of the time. It’s fine, I get it. That is the one thing that you do have going for you is that you are equally as demanding on the microphone as I am. We are like yin and yang, except there will never be harmony between us because I despise you as much as you despise me. I will not let you walk out of Laughlin, Nevada as the SCW Heavyweight Champion for a multitude of reasons. The biggest one is that you would not do it any justice. You would be a lazy champion and SCW would crumble with you representing it. You say that I am a piece of shit and that SCW failed last week because of me being the champion. If you were so damn concerned about it, why didn’t you come out to the ring, or contribute in any real way to making it a better show? If you think you can head this company so much better than me, then why don’t you do anything? Half the time, you just show up to the ring. If you are put in a tag match, you seem to think you are better than the rest of us, and you throw a fucking fit and storm out on your partner. That is NOT the makings of an SCW Heavyweight Champion. It is not the makings of a future NWA Heavyweight Champion. It is the makings of a diva or a prime donna. I will be damned if I let you take my championship, Blade.
Spike’s face trembles with rage as he looks deep into the camera. His eyes show off an intensity that has yet to be seen by Spike thus far. He steadies his glare on the camera, sending chills down our spines. He bites down onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw a small trickle of blood. It drips down from his front tooth as he pushes his bottom lip out. The trickle runs down his chin.
Brett: Dammit, can I get some help here? This is my fucking show, and this jackass is running all over the place with my camera… He’s having a breakdown here… Why does this always happen to me?
Spike lets out a sadistic chuckle before wiping off the blood from around his labret ring. He slowly flicks it tongue across the cut, lapping up the little bit of blood. A hand reaches around and wrestles with him for the camera. After a moment of this, they finally succeed and Spike stomps his feet in aggravation. He steps forward, but the security man moves back just as quickly. Spike gives up the chase and spits his words with a venomous sting.
Spike: Now hold on a damn minute, I’m not finished yet. You wanted raw, so I’m giving you something more raw than any of you could ever put together. See, Blade… you can say whatever you want, trying to cut me into pieces, but the fact of the matter is that I beat your ass right in the middle of the same ring we will be fighting in on Sunday. You can use the lame cop out that you weren’t ready for me. You can say you had a bad day, but when we get down to the facts of the matter, it has no bearing on the outcome of our last match. You simply could not out-wrestle me. You lost! I beat you right after coming off of a tough match where I dealt with getting triple teamed. None of your excuses will matter because I am more hell-bent on walking out with a second singles victory over you, going into WrestleClassic where I WILL walk out as a Double Crown Champion. This will be something you will never do until you can get off that pedestal of yours and do what you are supposed to do. Once you truly give a shit about the business, then you will have some kind of weight behind your words, Blade. Until then, you are just another bottom feeder who thinks he deserves to be at the top. If you are going to say your head is in the game, then fucking get with it and make sure it is.
Spike rolls his eyes as he slowly finds his way back to his seat. Brett confers with Spike briefly, calming him down. He looks to the camera, almost embarrassed as he finishes bringing Spike back to planet Earth. Spike takes several drinks from the bottle of water on the table between the two seats and takes a few deep breaths as Brett returns to his seat. He tosses the note cards behind him, feeling the point of the interview has been lost. His eyes wander over to Spike as the camera furiously tries to readjust to the focus. Once it settles in on the two on stage, Brett looks back over to Spike.
Brett: So… your match against Blade Alexander is coming up, and you are obviously stoked for it. Ummm, yeah so do you have any last words for your opponent?
Spike: Nope, not really. That fuck bag botched any shots he should have had at a title shot so I have no idea why they gave it to him. I’m happy to kick his ass again, because just like his daddy said, when I whoop the hell out of him, it makes me look better. Unfortunately, his dad didn’t have the heart to tell him that I look better than him because I AM better.
Brett: I love how you say “Nope…” but then you go ahead and say more about him. It’s just awesome and not at all contradictory.
Spike: Do you want to get your ass beat on Youtube? I would be more than happy to do it if you don’t shut your mouth.
Brett looks a little shocked, somehow. Despite the fact that Spike is acting no different from how he has been the rest of the “interview”, you would think he had done something earth shattering. Spike shakes his head and looks back to the camera.
Spike: See, the sad part is that people are focusing on this match between Blade and I as if it were some sort of unheard of match made in heaven when, like I said before, I beat him already. Effortlessly, I might add. Nobody seems to want to give credit to a real match that will be taking place at Blaze of Glory II. It will be me defending the SCW Heavyweight Championship against the Sin of Wrath, Rage.
Brett: Only if you defeat Blade Alexander this week, though…
Spike: Oh shove it, pal. I WILL be defending my championship against Rage in just over three weeks. That match is exciting. That is a match I am looking forward to, because Rage has beaten Blade Alexander a few times, AND he was able to do so once while teaming with my brother, Jamie. That is like a handicap… no offense brother, but it’s true.
We cut to the side stage where Jamie is seen nodding his head, looking guilty of what he is being accused of. He flashes a devious smile as his ADHD interrupts his focus and he begins gyrating at Vixen who is in front of him, unaware of what is going on. The camera swings back around to Spike who is smirking widely.
Spike: Unlike Blade, Rage will be a challenge that I just can’t wait to be a part of. I have had very few dealings with Rage, but he seems like a decent guy behind the anger issues. He and I will lock up in the Main Event, and the best man will walk out with this belt. Rage is someone who does his share of work. He carries his own weight instead of bitching and moaning about everything. He is someone who is a worthy champion. Not someone of the likes of Blade Alexander.
Brett: How can you say that? Rage lost the title to Nick Jones before you defeated him for the belt.
Spike: Same reason I lost the first time I faced Nick Jones. Nick uses his connections to help him in matches. The Seven Deadly Sins and the New X-Tremes only watch the backs of their members. We even numbers when it is necessary. Jones used sneaky tactics to win. Once we neutralized the illegal interferences, we both defeated him. It is another reason I look forward to that match.
Brett looks at Spike with a sort of disbelief, raising an eyebrow. He holds that pose for a moment before looking back to the cameras with a shrug. He slaps his hands against his knees and opens his mouth to speak, pausing for just a second before saying anything.
Brett: Whatever… Well, it has been… nice? Having you on the show, I mean. And by nice, I mean a real nightmare.
Spike: Well, I was glad to be here tonight, and then you started talking.
Spike flashes a playful wink at Brett before chuckling to himself. Brett snaps his fingers and points to Spike for a minute. He nods his head, keeping his fingers at Spike when he turns to face the camera.
Brett: I hate to admit, but I love this crazy motherfucker right here. However, I don’t think I want to ever do this again.
Spike: Agreed. I can only take so much of a condescending asshole, which is another reason I can’t stand watching Blade’s promos… Anyway, I am Spike Staggs…
Brett: And contrary to popular belief, I am your host Brett Samson and this has been another edition of…
Unison: … POINT BLANK!
The generic indy rock style music plays as the cameras shut down and Brett gets up from his seat. Spike follows suit and the two meet in the middle of the stage to shake hands as the cameras go off. Spike walks off stage after a moment of quieted banter with Brett. He rejoins Vixen and Jamie on the side of the stage. He shakes hands with Jamie who bounces around ecstatically. Afterwards, he hugs onto Vixen.
Jamie: Dude, that was freakin’ awesome. You tore him apart.
Vixen: You proved to everyone why you are the Heavyweight Champion, darling. You can go toe to toe with the best of them.
Spike: We will see about that come Sunday… Just kidding, the kid stands no chance of beating me. He doesn’t have what it takes, like I said. He is just another hungry wrestler who is angry he hasn’t been able to make it to my league, and we all know it. I don’t think there is one person out there who would disagree…
Spike joins hands with Vixen and they walk toward the exit together with Jamie stalking menacingly behind them. They walk through the door, sending a bright glowing light through. As the three of them disappear outside, and the door closes, the scene fades… to BLACK!
