The Last Song I Will Ever Sing
February 27th, 2015; Stockholm, Sweden
The music fades in, but is indistinct at first. The image of the feed takes a moment to catch up with the audio, but eventually it does. We find ourselves looking at Erik Staggs who is seated on a blue suede sectional sofa with a red and white painting behind him. He is sipping on a glass of champagne, with a half eaten platter of sushi before him on a black ottoman style table. For those who are well traveled, they might recognize this room, but for those who are not familiar with the world famous chain of Karaoke bars, he is occupying one of the many private rooms at K Karaoke. The song playing in the background is "Gold Coins", originally by Charli XCX, but done by a much more amateur singer. Their voice comes on through the speakers in all four corners of the room, as well as an LCD display of their performance. Erik admires the lovely Swedish woman who is clearly having a good time with her performance. Her short blonde tresses bouncing as she moves across the stage Erik's eyes are drawn a bit further south to what hides beneath her black and white cardigan as he lets out a curious sigh. He brushes it off with a chuckle before standing up from his seat, acknowledging the camera in front of him.
Erik: Yes, yes... how cliche, I know... A karaoke bar isn't exactly an original concept, is it?
Erik chuckles once more as he licks his thumb, brushing it across his bangs, styling them quickly before he shrugs his shoulders. He almost dances around the table as he comes up to a display on the wall, a small booklet with a large silver button next to it. He pushes the book open as he slowly begins scanning the pages from the corner of his eye as he turns slightly toward the camera.
Erik: I pride myself on original thought, but there is also something to be said about improving upon a tried and true method, right?
Pausing for a moment, we can hear the Emcee in the background as the song ends. He introduces the next socially lubricated woman, though his Swedish tongue isn't understood, except that we pick out "I'm With You" by Avril Lavigne. Erik simply shakes his head before lifting his icy blue eyes back to the camera.
Erik: Come on, lady... you're not helping my cause here... And, to be honest, if I may? The Karaoke bar method hasn't been exactly successful in driving a point across, has it? Well, that is because a Staggs has not done it yet. You see, we could cut a promo watching paint drying on a wall, and leave you hanging on every second of it. You see, I'm not going to torture you with Five Finger Death Punch, or some flash in a pan death metal diddy that you've never heard of. Nor will I torture you with some cliche rendition of "Rocketman". No... I want you to feel it. I want you to savor it. I want to rock your world. But, above all of that, I want to bleed my heart dry for you.
Erik gives an assuring nod as he flips the page, scanning it up and down quickly, before repeating this on the next page. He sighs and shakes his head as he almost feels like this could be a lost cause. He rolls his eyes before looking back to us once more.
Erik: I hope this extensive list gets better, because I might have to scrap this and find another way to say exactly what I need to say... Now, you might be asking yourselves, why is this so important to me? Why do am I so obsessed with finding the perfect diddy for tonight? Why, it's simple. This match, like every one I've participated in over the last few weeks, could very well be my last match ever. Each victory I've gotten has put the pressure on me, and has made each match that much sweeter. I've taken out two promising stars here in SCW, in Joey Harris and Sebastian Hardin. I've assisted Necra Octavian Kane in getting a few steps closer to her ultimate goal of becoming Bombshell Champion by taking out Darknyss and Candy Overton. To call these victories sweet... pun intended... would be an understatement.
Erik smirks proudly as his eyes wander off of the book and across the room as if he is searching for something specific. Or, perhaps his eyes have landed upon another Swedish hottie, though the seriousness of his face suggests otherwise.
Erik: Just like every other match I've participated in over the last month, there is no guarantee of victory. As a matter of fact, the odds seem to be stacked against me more and more each week. Unfortunately, it wasn't until I saw the card for this week that such a sinking realization struck me. Call it weakness, or call it realism. Call it what you will, but the arrogance faded when I saw the names we were booked against for this show. For all intensive purposes, I am facing family. Not by law, or by blood, but by fate.
Erik stares seriously into the camera, letting his cold eyes linger in the lens for a moment as he gently licks at the corners of his mouth.
Erik: I have not always had the strongest bond with my family, but that is not from a lack of trying. My nephew, Spike, and I... we've had a rocky past. He is more like a son to me than a nephew. I raised him practically from the womb. I helped raise his son. I am very involved with the care of his daughter... the mutual daughter of the woman standing across the ring from me in a few short days, Misty. Ohhhhhhhhhh Misty... what a path we've been down, hm?
Erik almost smiles, reminiscing of the memories, closing his eyes for just a moment to recall the many instances their paths had crossed over the years, with and without Spike. However, before he can get but few steps down memory lane, his eyes shoot open and he gently covers his mouth, muffling an "Oops" before removing it to show pursed lips. His tongue comes out slightly, running across his bottom lip as he sighs.
Erik: Of course, you likely do not remember any of it. It's sad to say, because you were very good at what you did. You were quite the wicked bitch, if I do say so myself. I say this as a compliment, of course. People can say what they want about you, but you knew how to elicit any reaction you wanted. That is one of many qualities I admire about you. You were ruthless. You were vindictive. You were one of my most loyal associates during the rebellion. Without you, who knows where our rebellion would have been? Your five title runs here in SCW do you no justice, Misty. I respect the hell out of you. As much as my partner might not want to hear that, it's true.
Erik's eyes wander back over to the book pinned against the wall. He fumbles through the pages quickly, glancing at the available tracks as he continues.
Erik: I know, this is where I'm supposed to talk all big and bad about how I'm going to defeat you and Andrew Watts, and tell you what pieces of shit you guys are... but, I can't.
Erik takes a deep breath as he probably shocks the majority of the viewers. They wait for him to crack some sort of cocky smirk, or give any implication that he's joking, but that does not come. He simply nods his head as he flips another page.
Erik: I am a straight shooter. I spent hours trying to figure out a way to hate you both, even if it were just temporary. I wanted to find something to fuel my anger, because that has lead me toward two victories thus far. Sure, I could bring up the fact that you embarrassed Spike in the middle of the ring on what was supposed to be your wedding day. I could talk about the fact that you racked him in the nuts and spit on him in front of his children and everyone watching from home... but, that would be somewhat hypocritical. I can't count how many times I've knocked my nephew out in the ring for various reasons over the years. What else is there, Misty? We've been friends for a very long time. I'm sure Necra has plenty of malice-filled words for you, so I will leave that to her.
Erik turns the pages again, shaking his head in a bit of annoyance as he pinches the bridge of his nose. When all hope seems lost, Erik's eyes shoot wide open as a smirk comes over his face. He scans the number next to the song he's chosen, and he enters it on the keypad by the door. He returns his attention back to the camera as "Save the Last Dance For Me" as made famous by Michael Buble begins to play, eliciting a groan from Erik.
Erik: Could I rip into Andrew Watts here then? Sure. I could laugh at the pathetic attempt to garner support from a bunch of fickle little girls who run off at the first sign of trouble, save for his little girlfriend, Alex Kaelin. I could talk about how arrogant he is, and how this is his greatest weakness... but again, both of those would be hypocritical of me. Maybe I'm being humble for the first time in my life here, and it's clouding my judgment, but I've fallen victim to overconfidence a time or fifty... and we all saw how quickly the rebellion fell apart when Mark and Christian offered title opportunities as readily as candy in the dish on their desks. I saw so many metaphorical middle fingers, I assumed that was the new way of saying hello. Facts are facts here... Andrew Watts and I have drawn many parallels here in Sin City Wrestling. We have both made it to the semi-finals of the Blast From the Past tournament. We are both undefeated in SCW. We carry factions to notoriety in SCW. We are both considered to be attractive men by the ladies around here.
The camera zooms in slightly on Erik's cocky grin as he slowly nods his head.
Erik: Yep, I've still got it...
Erik chuckles as if to drive his point across. He quickly shakes this as he returns to his main point.
Erik: The list goes on and on. Andrew Watts has a longer list of victims in SCW, and many names are names that I would have figured would be Main Eventers. Maybe this is where the idea that I might not make it to the finals has settled in. Far be it from me to doubt myself, but this time around... there is a fifty-fifty chance that this ride could end for me on Sunday. It is a case of the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object. There will be an explosion inside of that ring on Sunday... this I can guarantee beyond the shadow of a doubt. But, don't take this as me lying down for you, Watts. I don't intend to make it easy for you. I've got my sights set firmly on that trophy, and the title shot that comes along with it. I'm not ready to call it quits just yet. To make it to the finals, the winner of our match has to work for it. We have to earn our spot in the finals. It is an honor to headline the next Super Card, Andrew. I will not cheapen your possible spot in the finals by giving up so easily. You will be bringing everything you have, as will I.
Erik nods his head as there is a beep over an intercom by the door. Erik presses the button on the wall, muttering something in Swedish before removing hsi finger. He smirks as he walks over to the door, opening it with a twitch of his head, signaling for the camera to follow him.
Erik: It's time...
Erik walks through the doorway and into a long, narrow hallway. He passes many rooms, the inhabitants loudly partying within as they enjoy the privacy of their lounges. He looks straight ahead with a serious look on his face as he makes it toward a set of curtains. He walks through them and stands be the edge of a stage, looking out into the large crowd. The gentleman singing Michael Buble takes his bows as Erik runs his finger across his neck, signaling that he's done for. He points to Erik and nods his head in a friendly sort of rivalry. Erik walks past the man on the platform as he makes his way to the stage. He takes his place in front of the microphone, raising it up to meet his tall stature before resting both hands on top of it, waiting as the Emcee introduces him in Swedish. Again, all we are able to make out is the song, "Carry On" by Fun.
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A curious selection for the man who is normally most fond of heavier, older music. The piano gently starts up as the crowd claps and cheers for the selection. The prelude seems to almost haunt as Erik sits there, eyes closed, and completely in tune with the music.
Erik: Well I woke up to the sound of silence and cries... were cutting like knives in a fist fight. And I found you with a bottle of wine, your head in the curtains and heart like the Fourth of July...
Erik's eyes open slightly as he stares out into the crowd, his intensity radiating off of him as he slowly looks up toward the ceiling.
Erik: You swore and said "We are not... we are not shining stars." This I know... I never said we are. Though I've never been through hell like that, I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back.
His eyes open the rest of the way as he looks out into the audience, taking the microphone into his hands as he tilts his head back.
Erik: If you're lost and alone, or you're sinking like a stone. Carry oh-oh-oh-oh-on... May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground. Carry oh-oh-oh-oh-on. Carry on carry on!
Erik begins to sway gently to the music as the tempo picks up for a brief interlude. He removes the microphone from the stand and walks away from the stand as he walks closer to the edge of the stage. He reaches out into the crowd, shaking hands with a couple people in the front row.
Erik: So I met up, with some friends at the edge of the night, at a bar off 75. And we talked and we talked about how our parents will die, all our neighhhhhhbors and wives. But I like to thiiiiink, I can cheat it aaaalll, to make up for the times I've been cheated ooooooooon. And it's nice to knowwwww, when I was left for deaaaad, I was found and now I don't roam these streets. I am not the ghost you are to me...
Erik stands back up as his voice picks up volume. His normal monotonous voice has disappeared as emotion takes over. He walks across the stage pointing out to the audience as he continues singing the song.
Erik: If you're lost and alone, or you're sinking like a stone. Carry oh-oh-oh-oh-on. May your past be the sound, of your feet across the ground. And carry oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-on. Whoooooooooooooa...
Erik tilts his head back as he practically screams into the microphone, pure emotion driving right now.
Erik: My head is on fire, but my legs are fine! After all, they are mi-i-i-ine. LAAYYYY your clothes down on the floor. Close the door, hold the phone. Show us how no one's ever gonna stop us now...
The guitar interlude comes on and Erik plays to it, doing a little Angus Young strut with an air guitar as he goes across the stage, spinning in a complete circle until the lyrics return. He stops where he is and he grips his hands around the tip of the microphone and brings it to his mouth as he looks down into the crowd again.
Erik: Because here we arrrrre, we are shining stars. We are invincibllllllle. We are who we are, on our darkest day. When we're miles awaaaaaaaay, the sun will come. We will find our way ho-oh-oh-oh-ome...
Erik has a surge of energy that gets the crowd pumped up and into the song as well as they sway and sing along with him. He holds the microphone out to them as he shouts out the lyrics for all to hear throughout the entire club.
Erik: If you're lost and alone, or you're sinking like a stone, then cary oh-oh-oh-oh-on. May your past be the sound, of your feet upon the ground and, carry oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh ohhhhh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh-oh ohh whoa whoa-oh oh oh oh.
Erik has the microphone back to his lips, a bit of sweat coming over his forehead from the lights, his navy blue suit and tie, and the energy he is exuding here tonight. He tilts his head back, holding the microphone about a foot above it as he shouts into it.
Erik: Oh oh-whoa-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh... No one's ever gonna stop us now-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow. No one's ever, no one's ever, no one's ever gonna stop us, stop us, stop us, stop us now, now, now now. No one's ever, ever, ever, gonna stop us, stop us now, now, now....
The music slows down a bit as the crowd goes wild, cheering for Erik. He smiles as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. The lyrics of the song swim through his entire body, bleeding through his pours in the form of sweat as he breathes in and out deeply. The crowd, and the viewers watching at home, can't believe the amount of energy that came from Erik Staggs just now. He walks over to the microphone stand and takes a bow as he continues to catch his breath. The Emcee announces the next person as Erik walks past them, giving them a daring look that says "Beat that..." He wipes at his forehead as he reaches the curtains of the empty hallway. The camera follows through and comes to a stop as Erik leans against the wall.
Erik: I've faced many challenges in my life. I've felt the crushing weight of defeat. I've tasted the sweetness of victory. I've gained more than I can handle. I've lost enough to make someone break ten times over. Yet, here I stand before you. That song is my story. It is my farewell, whether it be this week, or three weeks from now. If I lose to Andrew Watts and Misty, I will be alright with this. I will carry on. I just hope that if Necra and I do win, that Andrew Watts can carry on, knowing he got his ass kicked by someone old enough to be his grandfather...
Erik winks at the camera with a chuckles. He shakes his head for a second before his eyes rest back on the camera.
Erik: With all due respect, Mister Watts... good luck. May we steal the show on Sunday... and may the best man win?
Erik extends his hand as if offering Watts a sign of respect with a handshake. He pauses there for a moment, letting it linger before he slowly retracts it, looking down at the hand before raising his eyes for one last stare down. After a few seconds, Erik slowly turns around to walk back toward his private lounge. The camera follows him for a second before it fades out... TO BLACK!
