The sound of a heart beating is heard echoing in the blackness. It is slow at first, but it becomes more rapid with each passing moment. A deep gasp can be heard as the crimson takes over the screen. With each beating sound, the blood vessels expand for the slightest of seconds before contracting. We slowly pan out, catching the sight of a beating heart. We freeze on it for a second the opening screech of a guitar puts us back in motion. We pan out of the body to see an overweight, balding man sitting back in a black chair as “Pussy Liquor” by Rob Zombie begins playing. He moans in time with the music as he wipes a few beads of sweat from his eyebrow. As we pan out further, we see the room is almost completely black except a couple red neon signs in the background reading “The Wet Spot” accompanied by Budweiser, Busch, Jack Daniels, and Jagermeister neon spots above the bar. There are also the white stage lights. Turning around, we see a middle aged blonde walk out on stage with tight leather daisy duke shorts on and a black sports bra with a fishnet shirt over it. Her thigh high black stiletto boots click against the stage as she struts over to the center of the stage. She completely ignores the pole and walks straight up to the man. Once she is at the edge of the stage, she sticks her long leg over the edge and wraps it around the back of the man’s neck, pulling him in deep as she grinds on his face. Once she is satisfied, she pulls her leg off, running the heel of her boot across the man’s jugular vein. He runs his hungry fingers across her leg until it is out of reach. She winks at him, licking her lips as she runs her tempting fingers down her stomach. She stops shy of her unbuttoned short and lifts up the fishnet. She slides it off and flings it at the man.
”I thought these kinds of dive bars were exclusive to the Midwest where I am from… I guess there are dirty freaks everywhere you go.”
The stripper hugs onto the pole as her money-hungry eyes search the crowd for the next sucker. Her lips part as she lets the bottom one quiver. Her eyes roll back as she moans. Her victim is in sight, but he is nowhere near the stage. His eyes are on her, and hers on his. She does a generic spin around the pole before leaping up and holding on tight. She grinds on it, leaning backward, extending her tongue to the gentleman in the corner booth who is nursing a Budweiser longneck. She runs it over her lips once before closing her eyes. She lets go of the pole and slides down it, her hair sweeping the floor first. She leans back, picking up a pile of ones before releasing her legs, forming a V with them. After posing, she drops them to a flamingo position before sliding over onto her stomach. She stuffs the money into her string before starting to slide her shorts off. She holds them on her index finger, strutting around, looking for the biggest buyer. One man fans three one hundred dollar bills at her and she snatches them out of his hands. She counts them slowly as she lowers down to her knees. She stuffs them into her top and drops the pants on the floor in front of the young hillbilly looking man in a red flannel. She turns around and he slaps her on the behind. She rolls her eyes as she struts to the edge of the stage. In an unprecedented manner, she steps off the stage and puts her index finger to her lips, gently licking. She runs it down her bust line and to the edge of her g-string. She walks over to the dark corner of the bar and snatches the money from the peons giving it to her for absolutely no reason. Her mission is made clear when she gets to the table. The shadows keep the identity of the man in question a secret other than his ring-clad hand, adorned with a black middle finger nail, wrapped around the Budweiser. She mouths the words to the song.
”Yeah I like to get fucked up, fucked up.”
“Yeah I like to get fucked up too.”
“Yeah, I bet you do…”
She pulls the bottle out of the hand and puts it up to her lips, killing it and tossing it to the ground behind her. It comes crashing down, breaking into pieces as she grabs onto the hand. She presses it firmly against her breast, and just as quickly, it retracts. She looks a little upset as she pouts her lips out. The audience boos and shouts various defaming words at the man, also upset for him taking their main attraction away from them. She reaches over and slaps the man, forcing his face into the slightest display of light. His steel eyes stare up at her, his jaw clinched. The black rings around his eyes almost send a shiver down her spine. She gasps at the sight of SCW Heavyweight Spike Staggs. She takes a step back, watching as he gets up from his booth. She is like Sookie to his Eric-like gaze. She takes one step back for every two he takes forward. She is in a daze induced by fear and lust simultaneously. He grins and bypasses her, leaving her chest heaving as the music stops. Spike walks up to the bar and slides a bill to the bartender before pushing his way through the black metal doors. He adjusts his black duffel bag where the SCW Heavyweight Championship belt is sticking out as he walks down the street.
”I can’t believe this was the only place to get a drink around here… And after tonight, I definitely needed one…”
Spike looks from side to side as the blustery winds whip at his face. He holds his jacket close to his chest to protect himself from the cold air rushing past him. He watches as a piece of newspaper flies past him, sticking to a pole decorated in green pine garland, bows, and white lights.
”It all started back in the ring, when I was getting my ass kicked, five on one. The thoughts running through my head were…
Spike is seen getting pounded into the mat by Nick Jones, Jordan Williams, Tom Dudely, Big B, and Tony. His eyes staring down at the ground as the blood begins pouring out of his mouth and onto the mat. His vision blurs heavily as his head bounces off once more.
“They say I’m not there for them. I’m selfish, and only promote myself?”
As the blurriness subsides temporarily, Spike is rolled over onto his back, and he tries to escape, but to no avail as Jordan says something Spike can’t hear. The boos of the audience fade into a ringing sound that takes over everything. He sees Nick lean down to pick him up, unable to understand what he is even saying.
“Do they think I have forsaken them? Do they think I’m not there for them? Is that why this is happening? Is that why I am out here on my own getting kicked around like a soccer ball?”
As Spike is slammed up against the ropes, his eyes fade back for a moment as he feels the wind knocked out of him by Tom’s knee. He struggles to take a deep breath, hearing the wind whistle through his empty chest. He claws for dear life at this point.
“Derek… Vixen… Jamie… Where are you? If for nothing else…”
His head throbs with each jolt as his eyes roll back to see it is now three on one. He goes to pummel Tony, but falls short, being ripped back by the hair by Tom. He coughs and a spurt of blood flies from his lips. He swings, connecting with Tom, but the other two grab onto him so that Tom can speak to him. He still doesn’t hear it because of the ringing, and he spits in Tom’s face before Tom slaps him hard.
“Little bitch… The issue was always between the two of us, and you had to call for back up. You only strike when your friends are around and mine are not. Instead of doing this man-to-man… Such a bitch move…”
Spike looks up, getting drilled in the face once more, collapsing to the ground. Every ounce of fight seems to be gone in this losing battle. He lies there for what seems like an eternity as he punches keep rolling.
“Since day one, the universe has shit on me. The second I entered a major wrestling promotion with any amount of credibility, I was a curtain jerker. Plenty of potential, but never pushed. I am the quintessential underdog. I have always had a soft spot for the underdogs. It all started with a very select group of misfits, nearly a decade ago. Painted freaks. Mental freaks. Freaks of nature. It all started with a Vision. Vision Black…”
Spike’s vision fades completely as he catches a faint glimpse of Casey, Jamie, and Derek rushing into the ring.
“When the freaks united, we took the place by storm. We won championships, we won respect, and we won respect. We were the nobodies, but look at me now. Not much has changed, except my loyal freaks are nowhere to be found. Perhaps it is my own paranoia, but I feel like someone is waiting to stick a knife in my back at any moment. I trust my brothers, both of blood, and of spirit. Jamie wouldn’t stab me, nor would Derek. When I look at Vixen, deep into her eyes, I know she would never dream of hurting me, knowing what we have been through in our own lives. Odette carries the NXT badge like a badge of honor. She is like a dear friend to me.”
Spike catches a glimpse of Derek patting Spike on the back. That damned ringing muffles Derek’s words, but Spike can’t seem to keep fully conscious. Derek gets pummeled from behind as Spike grips at the bottom rope, trying his best to get to his feet… for his brother.
“Jessie is young and impressionable. She has loyalties, but could go either way. Aleksei has taken a beating for us, and I trust him with every fiber of my being. Giani is hungry, young, and very self-absorbed. Since day one, I have had to keep him in line, and I feel like the line of trust there is disintegrating. It is worth saving, because this young one could be our rabid pitbull. And that leaves us with Casey… Casey, Casey… Casey…”
Spike looks up to see Casey’s hand extended. Spike looks at it for a second, reading the anger dancing in Casey’s eyes. He grabs onto it, and Casey pulls him up while Spike goes back to battle with his foes. NXT clears the ring, staying dominant. Spike looks back to Casey as the two share a mutual angry stare. Casey starts to leave the ring. Derek looks over to Spike, patting him on the back. He looks almost afraid of Spike’s reaction, but Spike brings his brother in for a hug. They slap each other on the back as Derek helps Spike over to the ropes. Giani leans in, breathing heavily, also patting Spike on the back.
Jamie: Those assholes blocked us in the locker room. Billy James let us out, or else who knows what they woulda done to you. We gotta get them back so hard next week…
Spike: Thanks a lot, Jamie. I had it when it was three on one, until those jerk offs got involved.. Say, where is everyone else?
Derek: We wouldn’t allow the ladies to come down and get involved. Such beautiful roses have no business being around the scum that was out here.
Jamie: Yeah. Not to mention we didn’t want the girls to get hurt. But I don’t know what is up with Giani and Aleksei.
Spike looks forward as they walk up the ramp. The fans give their shouts of approval and Spike does his best to show his appreciation, but he is distracted by Casey who is walking ahead of them, disappearing behind the curtains quickly. Spike takes a deep breath as they reach the top of the ramp just a moment later. They walk through the curtains and Vixen, Odette, and Jessie all hug onto Spike. Odette whispers into Spike’s ear.
Odette: You’re going to get them back so hard, I just know it Spikey.
Spike nods his head as Odette rubs his upper back. Derek’s eyes are fixed on Odette as she steps back. Jessie reaches her arms up around Spike’s neck. She plants an innocent kiss on his cheek and looks up into his eyes.
Jessie: Just know that what they did was low, and NXT doesn’t stoop to that level. We fight fair. You guys will prove it the next time you face them.
Spike nods his head and brings Jessie back in for another hug. He holds her there for a moment before noticing the blood is starting to dribble down his lip again. He releases the embrace, and goes to find a towel, only to be met by one from Vixen. She holds it up against his lips. Spike’s jaw is clinched so tightly that it makes it nearly impossible for him to stop reopening the wound in his mouth. However, Vixen moves his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. She holds him there, and all of the aches and pains seem to go away. After what had apparently been several minutes, she removes the cloth from his lips. His tongue plays around a bit, but notices the bleeding has stopped. He takes a swig from his water bottle, swishing it around and swallowing. He tilts Vixen’s head back and plants a kiss on her lips. He ignores all of the ooh’s and ahh’s from the present NXT members. He is even able to ignore the gyrating from Jamie as he stands behind Vixen. He feels her bottom lip quiver against his top lip. Her breaths waiver as she looks into his eyes. She pulls back, brushing Spike’s messed up hair out of his face. Just as she is about to speak, Casey comes walking up, his loud voice booming. Spike’s jaw clinches slightly again as he closes his eyes. It isn’t until he hears the British accents of ACW’s Ben Jordan and Mickey Carroll that his attention comes back…
Spike opens his eyes as he bumps into a smaller guy dressed in a Santa suit, ringing a bell. He raises his hand in apology, then digs through his pocket, pulling out a bill. He slides it, along with some loose change into the red bucket slot. The man hands him a miniature candy cane, and with a jolly laugh sends him on his way with warm wishes.
”Santa”: Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas kind sir, thank you for your generosity!
Spike flashes a well meaning half smile to the man as he waves. Spike turns back around, lifting his bag off of the slightly wet ground, slinging it over his shoulders once more. He takes another deep breath, sliding the candy cane into his mouth, long end first. He sucks on it as he walks down the street. He gets many awkward stares as he walks through the crowd.
”Possibly the biggest underdog I have taken under my wing was the man I found out I am facing in exactly one week. The man who I am positive wants nothing more than to take the SCW Heavyweight belt from me. Loyalties were undoubtedly thrown out of the window the second he saw that little present Mark left for him. Unfortunately for Casey, I have worked way to damn hard to go into this match half cocked.”
Spike continues walking down the dark streets. The multi-colored lights shine in his eyes as the Christmas spirit is getting stronger around him. The spirit does not seem to impact him in the slightest as he imagines himself alone on the streets. He takes a deep breath as his boots click against the pavement as each person surrounding him seems to evaporate.
”I need to be alone with my thoughts about as much as I need a hole in my head, but damn do both sound appealing at the moment. Hmmhmmhmmm…”
Spike chuckles to himself as he gazes down this strip. His eyes lock onto a tattoo parlor several paces ahead, and that is all he can think about. He flicks his tongue out against his lips, running the center along his upper lip when a half smirk takes over his face. He works his way over to the door, pulling it open in his own sort of excitement. Apparently this tattoo shop is desperate for business based on the “Buy One, Get One” and “Give them the gift that truly lasts forever!” signs plastering the windows almost entirely. Spike walks inside and looks around at the various artwork displayed everywhere. The feel of the décor gives off an industrial/meat factory sort of feel. Spike inspects it curiously, noticing the grime on the floor, as well as images of trash imprinted on the ground. He shrugs his shoulders.
”I don’t know anyone in their right mind that would want to come here for body mods when they are trying to look dirty… Luckily, I’m not in my right mind.”
He smirks as he looks up to the young kid flipping through the Killbot EP, approaching him softly until the dubstep buzzing blares out of the speakers. He clinches his eyes uncomfortably, watching as the red begins blurring his vision. He stumbles up to the counter, looking up to the kid in an almost desperate sort of manner. The kid’s face starts to melt away from his skull and every time he opens his mouth to speak, pieces of flesh land on the counter. Spike clinches his eyes closed, hoping to get rid of the image. When he opens them back up, the skeleton face flicks a snake tongue at Spike. Spike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask, drowning it with the seasonal Peppermint Schnapps. When he looks back to the kid, the music is turned down a few notches, and he is back to normal. The kid looks at him very quizzically.
Kid: Sir, are you… okay? Do you need help or something?
Spike blinks his eyes for a moment, returning to reality. He looks around at his surroundings and notices a Vixen poster hanging up on the wall. He stumbles over to it and gets up close, looking into her eyes. The kid starts to pick up a phone when Spike turns back around, completely with it.
Spike: Sorry, I have ummm… a condition. Dizzy spells; it’s not really a thing.
The kid raises an eyebrow at Spike, moving his eyes between him and the Vixen poster. He moves his jaw curiously before slowly putting the phone back on the hook. He shrugs his shoulders as Spike moves back to the counter. He folds his hands across the counter, leaning down to the kid’s eye level.
Spike: I’m here to get my tongue pierced.
Kid: We have a buy one, get one holiday special. Would you like something else.
Spike: Sure.
The kid stands there for a second, waiting for Spike’s choice. He taps a pen against the counter, looking at Spike for another moment, almost seeming intimidated by Spike based on his size and his state of mind. Spike smiles back.
Kid: Ohhhkay… What would you like for your second piercing?
Spike: Surprise me.
With that, Spike takes a step back toward the empty seating area. He takes a seat in the far corner as the kid hits a few keystrokes on his computer. His eyes stay locked on Spike until he walks to the back. Spike takes a deep breath as he tucks his hands behind his head.
Spike walks through the hallways backstage after the last Climax Control. His eyes are focused on the doorway at the end. As he gets closer, his vision clears, seeing the name “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward plastered all over the door. His eyes narrow as his pale face is accented with an angry, volatile shade of red. He laces his fingers together in front of him, stretching them out until ten loud, consecutive pops echo off of the walls. He thrusts his neck to one side, inciting another loud pop. He moves it to the other side, getting a small one. Before he can get within twenty feet of the door, Erik Staggs comes walking out in front of Spike, stopping his nephew dead in his tracks. He adjusts his tie and looks up a couple inches to look into Spike’s eyes. Spike’s nostrils flare up in rage.
Erik: You don’t want to do that, Spike…
Spike: Move!
Erik opens his mouth to speak, but instead Spike shoves him hard against the wall. He starts to move along until Erik grips his wrist and wrenches his arm behind his back. Spike growls as Erik locks on the hold precariously.
Spike: Get… THE FUCK… off of me!
Erik: If you turn around and walk in the other direction, I might be persuaded to let you go.
Spike: Fuck you and your master Mark. How could you let this go on? You’re a spineless coward. You have no balls. PUSSY!
Spike uses his free hand to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. He shoves it into his uncle’s face, literally rubbing it in. Erik pulls it away, skimming the paper with an annoyed look on his face. He finds his way to the Main Event and his eyes lower a bit. He chuckles to himself, inciting another growl from Spike.
Erik: If you’re going to kick some ass, I suggest you start with me, then move on to Christian, because we all voted unanimously for that match. Casey is a top contender, and…
Spike: Ex-CUSE ME?
Spike stops dead in his tracks, his struggle immediately ending as he slowly turns around. Erik lets him go as Spike stares intensely at his uncle. Spike cups a hand over his ear as if asking Erik to clarify. He narrows his eyes, waiting to hear it again. He lets out a laugh as he steps up to his uncle.
Spike: I’m not trying to be an asshole, but come again? Casey is a top contender? For the SCW Heavyweight Championship? Seriously??? Are you trying to be funny, because if you are, I’m about in fucking stitches here!
Erik: I don’t understand what is so funny. Casey is the biggest competitor in SCW, he has been making an impact lately against Jordan Williams. He’s a legitimate challenger.
Spike: Oh cut the bullshit, Erik! Casey Williams challenging me for the title is about as legitimate as the floor babies I left in the shower stall when I was a teenager!
Erik’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops in pure shock. He almost seems speechless after what Spike has just said. Not only because he doesn’t want to hear about his nephew’s exploits, but because he abruptly downed his friend. Erik slowly blinks his eyes as he watches an evil smirk overtake Spike’s face.
Erik: I really… honestly can’t believe you right now. Do you even hear yourself, or…?
Spike: Oh gee, I wonder where I got my amazing empathy skills from? It must be a family trait… But I want you to tell me how Casey is a valid challenger. Make me believe that this isn’t some ploy to put strain on NXT. I honestly want to hear it, unks.
Erik: He is making waves, and…
Spike raises his hand and puts it in his uncles face, silencing him immediately. Spike is showing no fear, and no mercy right now.
Spike: No he’s not. Besides that, I’ve been making waves around here since before I ever signed a contract with Sin City Wrestling. If that were the case, why did I not get a title shot as my first match? See, making waves doesn’t make you a valid challenger. Beating opponents and getting results does.
Erik: Ahem… Did you not challenge Blade Alexander last week because he was making waves?
Spike: That was a wager between me and that loudmouthed sonuvabitch. Neither Casey or myself agreed to this, it was forced on us. And the sad fact is that I am going to make Casey’s world come crashing down all around him. I’m going to slay him in the ring. The last time we were opponents, I defeated him. Do you know how badly that is going to piss him off when I humiliate him in front of the entire viewing audience? Wait, nevermind. Don’t answer, because I know you do. And that is exactly why you booked this match. You know? It’s just too bad I don’t have a boss in my back pocket like Nick Jones did, because I am already defending this belt more in the last two weeks that he did in his entire year of holding it. But it’s okay, because I am a fighting champion.
Erik starts to speak again, but Spike is just as quick to put his hand up in front of Erik’s face again. This time, Erik gets annoyed by it and gently removes it. He throws it down to Spike’s side and begins to speak again, but Spike doesn’t allow it.
Spike: I will fight Casey at Climax Control next week. I said I would never back down from any challenge, because I will prove myself to be better than Nick Jones ever could have been. I would fight anyone you could think to throw at me. Make me face a friend in Casey? I’ll do it. Make me face my own brother, Jamie? I’ll do it. My own son? I’d fucking do it! Make me face Vixen, Odette, and Jessie in a handicap match, I’ll do it. Stoop as low as you want, but I won’t back down from any challenge. And when I beat Casey’s ass in the ring next week, you will know that I’m not fucking around here… Pass that little message on to your boyfriend, Mark, for me, would ya?
Spike reaches up and pats Erik on the face, getting in a few hard pats before picking up his duffel bag and walking down the hallway. Erik mutters something under his breath, but Spike refuses to pay attention. His sadistic smile creeps onto his face as he leaves distance between him and Erik.
As Spike continues walking down a tight, filthy looking hallway, the specialist in front of him leads him into a room that is ten times as filthy looking. The “specialist” looked like a member of Avenged Sevenfold as he showed Spike to the barber chair in front of the mirror. The man pulls on a pair of rubber gloves and unwraps the tongs. He slides a rubber band over the edge of the tongs.
Artist: Go ahead and stick your tongue out for me brah.
Spike complies immediately as he slides his long, thick tongue out of his mouth. The artist opens the tongs and claps it onto Spike’s tongue. He unwraps the needle and Spike’s eyes focus on it, excitedly dancing all the way to the gleam on the very point. His tongue even quivers in excitement as his lips curl into a smile.
Artist: Okay, take a deep breath and get ready.
Spike takes the deep breath, but he has been ready for this one for longer than he ever could have known. The artist presses the needle to Spike’s tongue and holds it there for a second as he pulls Spike’s tongue out. Spike moans a little as the artist starts a count. 1… 2… 3… The needle slides through Spike’s tongue and his eyes rolls into the back of his head. He moans in what almost seems to be a display of pure ecstacy. The artist places the tongue ring at the end tip of the needle and slides it on through. He lifts Spike’s tongue up to screw the bottom on as Spike’s tongue trickles just a slight bit of blood. Once the ring is in place, Spike allows his tongue to dangle out for a moment, taking a deep breath. The artist hands Spike a paper cup with Listerine in it and Spike swishes it around. He leans over to spit it out into the trashcan next to the chair. As he does, the artist notices something on Spike’s left upper arm.
Artist: Nice ink, man.
The camera focuses in on a black and white image of the boy from Spike’s hallucinations. His deep, piercing Staggs’ eyes and his short raven black hair stare at the artist as if speaking to him. The wings behind the face almost seem to move as Spike looks over at it. He thoughtfully rubs the tattoo and nods his head as we fade out… TO BLACK!
(Or does it?)
P.S. w/Spike Staggs
The computer screen clicks on to show Spike Staggs sitting in his home office. The tunnel vision is clearly from his webcam. His hair is scattered in messy spikes, and he is wearing a black a-shirt with the NXT graffiti logo printed on the front. He looks deep into the camera silently for a moment as he props the SCW Heavyweight Championship up on his shoulders. The expression on his face shows that he is all business as he leans forward toward the screen.
Spike: Good evening ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise. All fans of Sin City Wrestling are very aware of the fact that I will be locking horns with Casey Williams, a dear friend of mine, in the main event at our show in San Jose, California on the 16th. To make things more interesting, they have decided it should be No Disqualifications. I guess Marky Mark thinks he is going to intimidate me that way… He must have forgotten who I was when he met me. I specialized in hardcore bloodbaths. Still to this day, the thought of putting someone through a flaming table gets me… sexually excited. Hey! They don’t call me “The Most Sadistic Bastard” for nothing…
Spike shrugs his shoulders. In doing so, the belt slips just a little off of the center of his shoulder, and he adjusts it.
Spike: I love making people bleed. It satisfies something deep down inside of me. My “Dark Passenger” if you will. That little thing in the back of my lizard brain that claws away at me, and makes me crave violence and chaos. It just won’t leave me alone until I hear the helpless screams of my victims. Unfortunately, I’m in a bit of a rough spot by having to face The Freight Train of Pain. This man has been with me for a very long time. Next to me, he has been the longest member of New X-Tremes. He has been very loyal to me, and for that, I am grateful. But please don’t take my kindness as weakness, Casey.
Spike leans in just a little closer, staring deep into the camera lens. The instability shines through especially now that the circles under his eyes are visible. It is apparent he hasn’t slept in days.
Spike: You and I both know that I am no laughing matter here in Sin City Wrestling. I transcended the regional level to capture the NWA World Heavyweight Championship earlier this year. I put SCW on the map within the NWA. Everyone stood up and took notice when I rectified myself and beat Jack Kraven. No one ever thought I would win that belt, just like they never thought that I would come home and snatch the SCW Heavyweight belt from Nick Jones. I’ve done both. People still call me a joke, and that’s fine with me, because in the end, the joke will always be on them… Ohhhh, but not you, Casey. You are the first opponent I’ve had in a while that doesn’t take me as a joke. You will be bringing everything you’ve got to fulfill your dream of being me. I know you will. But deep down, in the back of your mind, you know it won’t be enough. You’re going to have to reach deep down and find that inner beast that you are too weak to drag out.
Spike leans back in his seat. He reaches over and picks up a glass of water. Pressing it to his lips, he takes a few small sips to moisten his throat. He exhales in refreshment as he sets it back down next to him.
Spike: Let’s be honest here, friend. I have been working on trying to get you to bring out that beast for a long time now. I have watched as you got close, and then… then you let it slip right through your fingers. Opportunity after opportunity passes you by, and you just let it. You wait for me to push you harder. And for what? The NWA World Television Championship match against Gaetan LeValle, you choked. You won the SCW Tag Team Championships with Jordan Williams, and you choked in your first defense. The same thing happened when you won the SCW Roulette Championship. I’ve defeated Gaetan. When you step into the ring with me on Sunday, Casey… You are stepping into a whole new world. There won’t be any cheesy roulette wheels to determine the special stipulations. There won’t be some mid-carder waiting for you. I’m on a totally different level, son. You want a fair fight? Then I will go toe to toe, hold for hold, jab for jab. If you want to put on a show and get creative with weapons, I’ve picked up several tricks in my day. It will just be you, me, this belt, and whatever we feel like throwing at each other.
Spike taps the Heavyweight belt a few times to emphasize his point. Spike barely blinks throughout his entire rant, making his eyes almost appear to be glazed over. He flicks his tongue out to wet his lips, showing his new tongue ring in the process
Spike: I didn’t win this belt to just give it up that easily. Friendship or not, I’m bringing my best to the ring, just like I do with every other match. I hope you are prepared for what I’ve got in store for you. There is no way you WON’T learn a lesson or two when I’m finished with you. Bring a pen and take notes, buddy. Class is in session…
Spike picks up a pen and notepad and waves it at the camera, emphasizing his point.
Spike smirks as he adjusts himself in his seat. He continues staring into the camera for another moment before Vixen comes walking onto the scene. She runs her hands over Spike’s shoulders gently. He tilts his head back, allowing the camera to capture one soft, yet passionate kiss. She giggles a little as she moves her hand down his arm, taking his hand in hers. Her other hand is tightly gripped onto his left shoulder.
Vixen: Spike… Would you care to join me in the hot tub? The water just warmed up.
He looks away from the camera, like a child mesmerized by the sight of a bottle. His bottom lip drops just a bit and he begins nodding his head slowly. His hungry eyes dance over her black and silver swimsuit. He looks back over to the camera, raising his eyebrows up and down rapidly. The last thing we see is Spike reaching up and shutting off the camera. Now we fade… TO BLACK!
(For real this time…)
