”Every story has a beginning, but it is never really where it begins. And on the same token, every story has an end, but not often does it truly end where the story left off. I would like to go on to tell you that this story is any different, but it isn’t. The only way it would be complete is if I were on my death bed, and thankfully I am not. I am sure Mr. Kraven would love to think he might put me there when we meet up at London Brawling, but sadly for him, he will live to see “his championship” around my fucking waist.
“As I left off last, I battled the images in the mirror pretty hard, and quite fortunately, I had been gotten by what I saw staring back at me. I saw a filthy mess of a man who had fallen into a stupor of drinking and lazing around rather than focusing on the amazing opportunity that I knew was right around the corner for me. When Misty left me at the altar, it screwed with my head… more than just a little I might add. I felt a lot of pent up rage, anger, depression, despair, anxiety, manic, mania all rolled up into a lead ball that rested in the pit of my stomach. I am not going to sit here and say that it is an excuse for trying to piss away an opportunity, but it certainly is the reason why I acted the way I did.
“I had a major wake up call right before leaving Paris to Berlin. Just because it came in the shape of a hallucination taking shape of my deceased ex-girlfriend doesn’t mean that it loses any validity, and I wanted to pretend it did. I wanted to set myself up for failure so that I could stay in a comfortable position of a regional legend. The pressure of going on to become a World Class legend was something that practically put me out of commission five years ago. Aside from a busted knee that I am lucky enough to have back at one hundred percent, I felt the pressure with a family and a fiancée, to stay out of the ring.
“When I woke up from that darkly devastating dream, I realized that I am a World Class legend, and I always have been. I am just waiting for my time to rise up above the stars so that I might shine beyond the others. But, before I could show the world that I am the next big time star, I had to prove a few things to myself. I had to prove that I am capable of attaining what I want, regardless of what others will think of me. I had to learn to do exactly what I want to do, and have no shame. This lesson would prove quite useful to me. Bare with me just a little longer here…”
-:{The Hangover}:-
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Drinking, partying, and surrounding myself with distractions didn’t seem to last quite long enough. I did everything I could not to think about Misty, and it just didn’t seem to last long enough. Everyone had a piece to say as if it made everything better by them bringing it up. Calling her a bitch just didn’t seem to do the trick for me. Believe me when I say that I wish it did. My brothers and the rest of my family tested this theory. Kittie did it, and just about every fan I encountered along the way did it too. The one person who understood that was the person I had least expected to. Misty’s sister Desiree approached me on my way out of the bar in Paris, the night before we left for Berlin, and she grabbed onto my arm as I tried to avoid the most awkward conversation I could imagine.
Desiree: Spike, I wanted to make sure you were okay…
”Great, ANOTHER one of these… Smile and act like it doesn’t phase you, Spikey boy…”
Spike: Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for a…
Desiree: Lying. I thought you gave that up in GXW… I sat back and watched as everyone badmouthed Misty to you and I saw how it hurt you. I know more than anyone what a terrible person she is. She put me through hell since the day I was born.
Spike: I promise, I’m okay. It’s been a month now.
Desiree: For what it’s worth, you were the reason I ever came back around her. Dixie and I are here for whatever you need. But, the one thing that would piss her off more than anything would be for you to go on and rise to the top. Show her that she held you back while you held her up. Everyone back at that table is rooting for you to win in London. Do us all a favor and don’t give up.
I was flabbergasted as to what to say in response, but she wrapped her arm around me, and gave me the first hug I’ve had since this European tour started. It was nice, but it was only another distraction…
I stumble through the streets of Paris, and here I walk alone. I see the young star crossed lovers curled up on a park bench watching the cityscape lit up by the bright moon. I stop and look at the very same sight. My face drains, making the “hangover” official. I look back over to the bench, and I see what could have, and should have been. The couple on the bench is Misty and I. We just act as if there is no one else in the world right now. We are content with the fact, and we don’t crave rings, or ceremonies, or anything material. We were never about that, but apparently that was a delusion I had created in my mind.
I watch as she leans her head back, and I place my hand gently under her chin. Our lips meet in a burning fury of passion, and I can’t help but look away from the mental flashback. I take a deep breath to put on a brave face when I realize the mask is cracking a bit. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I wrap my coat around me. With every bit of strength I possess, I choke back any further tears, because I swore I wouldn’t let her break me. I swore I wouldn’t allow my sadness or my anger to get the better of me. The man who never cries is one big fucking mess right about now, the tears glistening off of my cheek in the city of lights. Every happy couple I encountered walking through the park, near the canal, the Eifel Tower, and the city streets that stood between the club and my hotel room feels like one my knife to my heart. A sinister glare that is ever so familiar returns to my face as I imagine doing every single one of them a favor and put them out of their impending misery.
I continue to walk on, and it feels like a blink of an eye brings me to the streets of Berlin. The sobriety had become so foreign to me, and it felt like a medicine that goes down slow, painful, and bitter. I walk into the nearest pub to my hotel. The real test awaited me. I put a smile on my face as I walked in to meet my family members. I spent several hours there laughing, chit chatting with my family, and getting built up for to perform in front of every single one of them like my uncle Erik, my cousins Sebastian, Gunter, and Selena, and about a dozen others, and make a fool of myself. Of course I didn’t know that yet. I figured if I sobered up, things would fall into place. As you know, they certainly did not.
Finally it is time for me to say my goodbyes with hugs and handshakes. Tommy and Jamie stay behind as they are introduced the newest member of the Staggs family, Kittie. I felt it best to spare myself the impending jokes at Kittie’s non-German heritage and her backlash, and I hit the streets of Berlin once again. In another flash that feels so surreal, I am leaving the hall, embarrassed and covered in barbeque sauce. I walked past the masses who want to shower me with their pity, but I need that about as bad as I need another drink. Then there was the word vomit… No, real vomit… in the middle of the street like it was Mardi Gras and I was a dumb drunk blonde with a hundred sets of beads around her neck.
As my guts wrench, I feel the hangover really set in. I fell down to my knees, and I prayed to God for the first time in about… well ever. I prayed for him to help me change my ways, to give me guidance, or just put me out of my misery. For what it is worth, my prayers were answered as I stand before you today. The lights in the street seem to point me forward, and I get back up and I keep walking. As I pass a fountain, I dip my head into it and wash off the sauce, and run my fingers through my hair to get it back to the way I like it. I ripped my shirt off, and walk in my stained undershirt. I would swear it was right then and there that I walked on to London. In my mind, I didn’t stop until I was there.
I blinked my eyes, and in front of me was the biggest reality check imaginable. Big Ben stood so majestically in front of me. Not only did it let me know I was in London, but as it struck midnight, it felt as if it were telling my that my time was… is now. This sign that felt like fate, it sent shivers up and down my spine, and eventually throughout my entire body. I stood there for a good twenty minutes, completely in awe. It was then that I realized something further. My eyes felt on fire as if I hadn’t slept in days, but I saw it clear as day, that I must shamelessly go after everything that I want out of life, rather than repressing it. So I marched on through the streets of London and on my way to the hotel. I had been so consumed by my own self pity, and the pity of others, I lost sight of anything other than the gold…
Then there was him… This young man was standing in front of the hotel, smoking a cigarette, sporting red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. As I passed by, our eyes locked, and instantly we understood the other’s pain. His was just as intense as mine, and obviously much fresher than mine. I pass him up and place my hand on the door to the hotel when I feel a warm breath on my neck. I start to turn my head when I feel the wet tongue rolling up my earlobe, and I hear her whisper.
Roxanne: You know misery loves company. Talk to the poor guy. It might make you feel better.
I turn around and she is gone. I look back to the guy standing there in a suit. Underneath his feet is a bouquet of roses smashed and scattered underneath his feet. I sigh as I slowly walk up to him. Why did I want to butt into this guys business, because I certainly didn’t appreciate others doing that to me? Honestly, if a stranger would have come up to me, I would have wound up with an assault charge. As I approach him, he looks down to the ground and takes a long drag from his cigarette. Uncomfortably, he runs his hands over his closely trimmed light brown hair, then he looks at me, and in a light British accent, he mutters in my direction.
Man: What you starin’ at, mate? Lookin fer a good fuckin’ kickin’?
This was the BBC version of what I would have said in the same situation, so I can’t help but smile and let out a bit of a chuckle. I lean against the same wall as him and look up at the stars.
Spike: You got a cigarette I could I could bum from you, man?
Man: Why the bloody 'ell would I do that, ah? I don't know you, and I ain't no pissing shop!
He stifles back his tears as he straightens up his posture. He wipes away at his face, masking it with a yawn as if to try convincing me he is just really tired. I shrugged my shoulders but I stay exactly where I am. He shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette case and extends it to me. I pull one out, and as I fumble in my pockets for a lighter, he lights it for me in a surprisingly friendly gesture.
Spike: Thanks bud. I’m Spike by the way.
Man: Liam…
We shake hands for a second, and we spend a lot of time resenting the beauty of the city with many words unspoken. I suppose curiosity gets the better of him as he turns around with a forced sly smile on his face as if he is trying to convince himself that he is okay.
Liam: So why were you blubberin’ like a little bitch? Got your knickers in a twist something?
Spike: Or something… How about you? Football team get their arses stomped?
I knew the answer to that was about the same as my own answer, especially as I watched him try to kick away the flower pedals without me noticing. As he gazed over to me to see me looking down, he takes a long drag from his cigarette. As if to give me a “fuck it” gesture, he shrugs his shoulders as he exhales. He reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out a little black box. He tucks it back into his pocket quicker than he had pulled it out and he goes back to staring up at the stars. I nodded my head and pulled out Misty’s engagement ring that I had been keeping in my pants pocket. I held it up to gleam in the moonlight, and his expression softens up just a bit.
Liam: Yer bird said no, too?
Spike: Bird isn’t the animal I would use to describe her. More like a snake. And no. She said yes. We were going to get married a month ago, seems like ages though… Was standing at the altar, looking into her bright eyes, and she kicked me in the balls, and threw the ring down at me in front of our families. We have a daughter together and she just vanishes, leaving me to clean up the mess… Second time, I swear. At least this time, I kinda knew what to do.
Liam: Huh… Well ain’t that a shitter? Fuck them birds anyway, mate. I need to get bloody wankered, I mean pissed as a fart. Care to join?
I would have in a heartbeat, but I looked back to the door of the hotel. I caught a glimpse of Roxanne giving me a dirty look and shaking her head from side to side. I reached over and patted Liam’s shoulder and brought him in just a step closer.
Spike: I appreciate that, bud… But I am off the booze at the moment. This isn’t so fresh to me anymore like it is for you. Look, I’m in town for the Sin City Wrestling show at the Royal Albert Hall fighting Jack Kraven
Liam: Bloody ‘ell, I thought you looked familiar. That Staggs bloke, erm, not the stupid one, not the old one, not the Schwarzenegger one, and not the new one… Spike! Spike Staggs standin’ right in front of me face.
Spike: In the flesh. Going to take the NWA World Heavyweight Championship from Jack Kraven, and you won’t have to struggle to remember my name then.
Liam stepped back and I could see a bit of surprise and joy on his face as he perked out his chest. He gave me a sort of “bro bump” style hug and exclaimed out into the streets in a manner I could barely understand. He ran around the empty streets whooping it up better than any fan I’ve ever seen. Once he was winded enough, he came back around and leaned down to let out a howl that elicits screams from everyone else around.
Liam: AWW BUGGER OFF YA MISERABLE TITS! I’m meetin’ Spike FUCKING Staggs out here!
And it was then that the young man was on his way to getting the cops on us, so I figured we could bring the party off of the streets. In the back of my mind, I knew what I wanted, and as much as I tried to hide it, I couldn’t keep it down forever. As we walked through the halls of the hotel, I could feel that little voice inside of my head coaching me on. The excited young man’s words began to fade into the background as we approach the elevator. The joy in his eyes caused me to fight back even harder as we get to my floor. I could feel my heart pounding in my head, and that is all I heard. I closed my eyes, trying to fight it back, but when the elevator door opens, the urges from my past came back, and my eyes opened up with an extreme intensity. I grit my teeth as we walk forward, and I try to shout out for him to leave, but the sinister glare of Roxanne as she nods her head seems to almost choke it out of me.
Roxanne: Do it. You know you want… You know you want to look deep into his eyes and…
She was right, I wanted to… And as we approached my door, my hands humbled for the room key, shaking and as I picked it up and raised it toward the door, I dropped the key, and before I knew it, my hands are on his shoulders, tossing him into the door. He looks shocked as do I, but I cannot control taking exactly what I wanted. Our eyes met, and then… Our lips met in a strange mixture of passion and fury. He grabs my face and pulls me in further. Out of the corner of my eyes, Roxanne nods before disappearing down the hallway. He finally pulls away, looking a bit confused.
Liam: I ain’t no bender…
Spike: Never said either of us were…
I reached down and picked up the key to my room and quickly popped open the door. We backed inside, back to our prior business as I shoved the door closed behind us. I could give you more details, but the point is that I discovered that if something is there, and attainable, that I should go and grab it. Seize the opportunity, and show no shame for it.
The next morning when I woke up to Liam shuffling about to pull the rest of his clothes on, I laid back with a free smile on my face. This is not to come out and say that I am making a lifestyle change, but rather to illustrate that I wanted something and I went after it. I did so without the slightest bit of shame. I didn’t even feel ashamed when Liam slipped his shoes on and rushed over toward the door. I lit a cigarette and pressed it firmly between my lips to take a deep drag. He hadn’t learned the secret yet, but I certainly did. Liam looked back to me, but lowered his eyes to the floor.
Liam: I’ll uhhh… I’ll call ya mate.
Spike: No you won’t. You don’t even know my number. It’s okay, you can go on without regret, bud. Your ticket will be at the Will Call Center tomorrow.
Liam nodded his head and then he walked out of the room, closing the door behind himself quietly. As I enjoyed my freedom, and my cigarette, Roxanne walked into my room with a smile as big as my own. She said nothing, but her eyes said enough. She all but handed me a pan cookie with big, bold, colorful letters saying “CONGRATULATIONS SPIKE!” And I all but hugged her…
******************************************************
We fade to the present where Spike is seen in front of a bright spotlight against a blue background. His face is the only visible space as the light flashes off of his sunglasses. He sits there silently for a moment, taking a deep breath. He leans forward, and the camera follows as he speaks into a microphone.
Spike: And that is the end of this story. But do not mistake this for the end of my story. I would truly like to think that my story is just beginning.
Spike clasps his hands in front of him as he stands in front of a podium. He blinks his eyes as the cameras flash intensely in his face. He reaches up to adjust the red and black striped tie hanging over his black dress shirt to allow him a bit of room to breath. He fans out his black suit jacket a bit as he opens his eyes to stare out amongst the crowd of reporters lined up in front of him. His eyes wander upward to look at the NWA banners hanging throughout the rafters, forming almost an arrow that points directly at him intentionally. His almost solemn expression brightens up as he switches out to a joyful smile that is practically infectious amongst all of the reporters and fans coming in closer. Spike nods his head and holds his hand out in front of him.
Spike: I ask that you please save your questions for the very end, because the story served as merely an introduction, like a “This is Spike Staggs” background story. That tells but a mere percentage of what I have to say to the “champ”. I prepared a nice and tidy little speech that stated my diverse feelings on Jack Kraven’s content of character…
Spike holds up a small stack of papers for the audience to see. The camera zooms in to see scribbles and typed words blurring together. Spike raises his eyebrows before he flings the papers out into the crowd. The fans and reporters scramble to pick up the pieces as Spike continues.
Spike: I am not a neat and tidy person, so to hell with that. I don’t read prepared statements blankly in front of an audience of blood hungry reporters, and I don’t wear fucking ties and suit jackets!
Spike pulls off the jacket and lays it over the podium as a sort of cushioning as he slowly leans forward. He pulls the tie from around his neck and tosses it out into the audience as well. He grabs his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and he slides them over his eyes as his bright white smile gleams in the lights.
Spike: I want to just cut to the chase because I have training to do, and fans to meet in London. The idea of Jack Kraven representing the NWA as their World Heavyweight Champion is simply laughable. Had you asked me two weeks ago, I would have given you an honest opinion that differs heavily from this one. After the actions of Kraven on Climax Control in Berlin, he proved to be no different than any of the other jackasses running around in boots too big for them, like children imitating grown ups. The concept simply is laughable, almost adorable.
Spike unbuttons the top button of his shirt as he takes in a deep, stifled breath. He leans off of the podium a bit and lifts his head away from the microphone, as if looking to the very back of the auditorium.
Spike: If I have a problem with someone, I have the balls to bring it to that person’s face, and I do it mano y mano. I don’t play into the politics of inviting friends to fight your battles for you. Had I wanted to be a big fucking prick, I could have invited my fellow New X-Treme’s out to the ring to manhandle Jack’s sorry ass! … I could have pulled out a steel chair and smashed his fucking head in, but I didn’t. I carry myself with a true sense of decorum, of the World Class caliber. But let us not mistake my complaints against the champion for his actions to be purely personal. I take issue with a man who smiles in your face while knifing you in the back.
Spike reaches to his side and pulls out a water bottle. He quickly takes a drink of it and places it back underneath the podium. As the reporters jot down their notes and flash pictures, Spike breathes in through his nose, flaring out his nostrils in the process.
Spike: If Kraven had a problem with my brother, it is his responsibility to take that up with my brother. If my brother offended him so badly, my brother has been in his home region for a while now, giving plenty of opportunities to get his hands on that squirrely, spitfire sonuvagun, but he didn’t. And to take that point just one step further, if he had a problem with me, he should have come out there and told me like a real man. He chose to stab me in the back simply because he knows I am a threat. Rather than demoralizing me, he simply showed me that he knows exactly what he is up against, and that puts a smile on my face from ear to motherfucking ear. What it also shows is that your current, and I do emphasize the word CURRENT, World Heavyweight Champion is nothing but an opportunistic coward who has held onto that belt long enough. It is time that someone graces the belt with a name that can proudly represent the entire NWA’s combined rosters.
Spike puts his fingers under his chin, stroking it before he raises his sunglasses to his forehead. He looks out into the crowd as if making eye contact with each and every reporter, fan, and camera staring at him. His eyes flash out an air of confidence, near arrogance, which is not synonymous with the Spike Staggs we all have grown to know. As quickly as it flashes, it fades even quicker as he regains his composure.
Spike: Your champion should not soil the name of this company, and it is about time someone stands up for the virtues and values, however loose they may truly be, that this company stands for. I am no saint by any means, but I carry honor, respect, sportsmanship, star power, physical power, and a mental prowess that has gone unmatched to this very day. Kraven has got a strategy mapped out, and he made one major mistake. He read it out loud in front of a camera. In Vegas, we know when you have a good hand; you hold it close to your chest. If you have a shit hand, you bluff the hell out of it and make everyone thing you got a royal flush. I will do Kraven a favor, and say something publicly, in front of everyone here today, and those watching from home. Allow me a moment to have a heart to heart with you now, because the next time I see you it will be several boot to ass moments… I have a royal flush in my hand. I go into every single one of my matches with the winning hand. Don’t make the mistakes of my past opponents and think of me as the underdog, because it will only end tragically for you.
Spike lightens up his glare as he breaks the staring contest he was having with the main camera. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. As his look of disgust fades, and his eyes open, he attains a professional look once again.
Spike: With that said and on public record, I feel I may continue. Any NWA champion has a duty to give back to the profession in some way, shape, or form. Your NWA World Tag Team Champions have done this by travelling to every NWA promotion to call for more participation in their respective division. They have succeeded in pulling the interest of several SCW tag teams, as well as PRA. Your NWA Television Champion, Gaetan LaValle has gone on to do the same within his own division, and drawn out the interest of every active NWA promotion. For these actions, I would like to take a moment to commend them for this. You have my respect, and as a fellow wrestler, you have my gratitude. What has Jack Kraven done to promote the Heavyweight Championship? What has he done to give back to the wrestling community? He has put on some phenomenal matches, but that isn’t much out of the way of our job as professional wrestlers…
Spike pauses for a brief moment to emphasize his point. He looks around the room again, drawing in the interest of each and every person in the room.
Spike: Wouldn’t you like to see someone who goes above and beyond the expectations, instead of a prim donna with a rock star attitude? I am a rock star, but… Hey, I promise, I do have a point here… I would like to take a moment to make a major announcement. Last week, I purchased a property in Las Vegas, Nevada where Sin City Wrestling is based out of. With the help of my family back in the proud nation of Germany, I have people working hard to change the abandoned warehouse into a beacon of hope for those breaking into the business… I am transforming it from a rundown eyesore to a top notch training facility…
The crowd almost comically gasps in astonishment as a smile of pure joy spreads across Spike’s face. He soaks it up for a moment as the audience begins clapping briefly. He holds his hand up in a polite gesture for silence, and after the crowd hushes, Spike lowers his hand back to the podium. He leans forward toward the microphone once more.
Spike: That is right. Once I return to Vegas, I will be inspecting the improvements of the facility and if all goes well and everything is up to code, The Staggs Dungeon will be open for business, and I will begin molding OUR FUTURE!!!
Spike raises his arms in the air and the crowd continues their previous round of applause. Spike stunts it like a rock star as he tosses his sunglasses off into the crowd. He goes back to the podium as if his outburst hadn’t happened, even though the grin on his face stays otherwise. He raises his hand in the air in a presidential manner as the cheering finally starts to die down.
Spike: There will be no votes on this matter, but I promise I will come out of this match with a landslide victory. I will hoist that belt up high in the air with pride. I will wear it with honor, pride, dignity, and integrity as I represent the National (e)Wrestling Alliance. I will go on to prove to every person that ever told me I would be nothing, that they were wrong. I will go on to show everyone who ever told me I could be anything I wanted to be that they were right. I will go on to make them proud, while teaching the next generation all of the things that were taught to me. This victory will be dedicated to all of them, especially my fallen friend, Apocalypse. And with that said, the talking is over. The next time you see me, the words will be gone and the actions will speak ten times louder… Thank you all for coming today. And tune in to London Brawling for the true beginning of my story, and much, much more.
Spike bows his head as he replaces the microphone back down into the stand, and he steps away from the podium. The audience applauds him as he slowly steps away from the spotlight. He walks toward the curtains, but rather than exiting, he walks down the stairs and begins mingling with the audience as they crowd around him. The scene fades… TO BLACK!!
