The crowds are cheering loudly in the low brow bar on the outskirts of Dallas. The floors are caked in dust, and the air is filled with smoke. It isn’t the kind of place you would expect to find kids, but lone behold, the young Spike and Jamie Staggs are sitting in the front row of wooden seats surrounding the ring. They are wearing t-shirts from the merchandise table, showing off some Staggs pride. The crowd surrounding the boys are going nuts as their local wrestling heroes come out to the ring to “Rock You Like A Hurricane”. They are decked out in semi-professional wrestling gear with tan tassels on their black cowboy boots, sunglasses, black cowboy hats, and two tacky looking Tag Team belts. They play to the fans, raising their arms in the air as they walk to the dirty looking ring. They pull themselves up onto the apron and enter the ring. They walk around, owning the ring to the best of their abilities by showing off their gold. Once they are settled in the ring, “Where Eagles Dare” by The Misfits begins playing. The audience gives off a mixed reaction until Robbie and Erik Staggs hit the stage in their punk rock attire. For the time, and the area, this is an immediate call for boos and distasteful shouts. Robbie and Erik look to each other and high five before running down the aisle. Robbie leapfrogs Erik and lands on the second rope, bouncing wildly. Erik slides under the bottom rope and jumps to his feet as Robbie enters. They work both sides of the ring, getting the fans riled up, and booing them at the same time. Erik makes a special stop to point out Spike and Jamie with a thumbs up and a wink to his nephews.
Jamie: It’s daddy and unkie Erik! Go daddy!
Spike is filled with an immediate sense of pride as a wide smile spreads across his face. He raises his arms up in the air and cheers as loudly as he can. The rough looking characters around them boo in their faces, but Jamie doesn’t back down a bit. She gets in the late thirties man’s face and shouts as loudly as possible. Spike joins him and tugs at his shirt to show off his support. Robbie smirks as he watches his boys get into the show. As the heat starts to die down, Robbie and Erik turn to their opponents. Erik steps outside of the ring, but their opponents have a different idea of how things are going down. Both men charge at Robbie and Erik, knocking Erik to the outside. They double team on Robbie, chopping at his back and knocking him down to the ground. They stomp away wildly as the referee allows it to go on. The fans cheer even louder, shouting words of encouragement to their hometown boys. Erik leaps up onto the apron and launches himself onto the top rope, hitting a double crossbody to his opponents. He gets up and helps Robbie to his feet. They circle around each other, locking arms as they stalk their opponents. Both good ole boys get up only to be leveled by a double dropkick, mosh pit style. Robbie picks up the blonde one and tosses him across the ring. Erik jumps onto Robbie’s shoulders and leaps off with a clothesline, taking him outside of the ring. Spike jumps up excitedly, his arms in the air.
Spike: GO ROBBIE STAGGS! Kick his butt!
Jamie: YEAH!
Robbie catches a surprise clothesline from his opponent. The brunette cowboy stomps down on Robbie, leaping into the air with a powerful elbow drop. The momentum exchange causes the crowd to burst into cheers. Spike and Jamie are the only ones booing. The opponent picks Robbie up and sends him into the ropes, catching Robbie with a big boot that levels him. Jamie tries climbing over the steel barrier to help his dad, but Spike holds him back. The brunette cowboy kneels down over Robbie for the pin.
1!
2!
KICKOUT!
Robbie surprises the audience by kicking out of the early finisher attempt. He is quickly put back on the mat by a punt to his chin by the brunette. Jamie and Spike rally behind their father, trying to work him up for the win.
Spike: Come on, dad! Show them how we fight in St Louis.
Jamie: Do The Drop! Do it, dad!
The boys watch on in disappointment as the cowboys got the better of the Staggs Brothers. Spike feels a nervous rumbling in his stomach caused by the extreme disappointment. His eyes widen as he shouts out loud. He and Jamie jump up and down in support, but the memory is a bit shaky. Spike only remembers feeling the biggest disappointment of his life, watching the Cowboys shut down any momentum his father and uncle try to build. His shouts seemed to d no god as Erik is caught in mid air and dropped down hard against the mat. Time slows down for Spike as the cheering seems to fade. Only Spike’s heartbeat can be heard, speeding up in the excitement. He watches as Erik gets up from the mat ever so slowly. He remembers turning to see his uncle’s eyes, widening as he takes a deep breath. Spike watches as the blonde cowboy connects with a hard boot, knocking the spit from his uncle. He watches it fly in slow motion as Erik’s eyes roll back and he slowly falls toward the mat. The blonde cowboy shouts something, but Spike doesn’t hear it, or anything. The cowboy falls to his knees in a sweaty mess, hunching over Erik. The referee rushes to his knees, pounding the mat.
1!
Spike looks around, a tear forming in the corner of his eyes. He almost couldn’t bare the thought that his father could be defeated. He watches the men and women throw their hands in the air with excitement. He doesn’t understand why these people would cheer for these men.
2!
Spike growls out as the man he and Jamie had been arguing with points to them and laughs. The image engrained in his mind forever as the toothless, bearded redneck points and taunts the boys. Jamie turns and shouts fearlessly in the man’s face. Spike grips onto the barrier as he looks out into the ring. His uncle was down for the count, and he couldn’t bare to watch it happen. He stares at his white knuckles before slowly clinching his eyes closed, seeing only the referee’s hand descending upon the mat. He stands up in aggravation, ready to shout out in anger, that is… until he hears the booing all around him. He looks over to see Jamie jump up in the nearby redneck’s face.
Jamie: HA!
Spike looks back into the ring to see his uncle getting up to his feet as the referee holds up two fingers. Robbie hunches over the blonde cowboy, pounding at him viciously. The referee forces Robbie out of the ring. With the distraction, Erik hits a surprise Blood Mist to the cowboy. He stalks around the ring, gloating over it before picking up the blonde cowboy, putting him in a Torture Rack. He wrenches the hometown boy a few good times before dropping him down Samoan Drop style. The brunette cowboy tries to move in, but Robbie hits a Hurricanrana to him, sending him sliding outside. Erik drops down for the pin after his patented Goodnight Ladies maneuver.
1!
2!
3!
The audience boos, but Spike and Jamie are ecstatic as they jump up and down. Robbie and Erik yank their title belts from the referee and rub them in the audience’s faces. A miniature riot starts to form as chairs go flying. Robbie cuts the celebration short as he and Erik go outside. They scoop up Spike and Jamie, moving quickly up the aisle and toward the bar’s exit. Erik and Robbie let down the boys as they scoot out of the exit quickly. A chair collides with the door frame as the door closes. Outside, Erik lets out an excited shout for joy. Robbie lifts his title in the air victoriously as Spike grabs onto his side for a celebratory embrace.
Erik: We did it, bro!
Robbie: I know I should be worried about getting the hell out of here right now, but I can’t believe we pulled that off!
Erik and Robbie give a “bro hug”, patting each other on the back as the kids go crazy in excitement. They are celebrating in a loud mixture of indistinct talking and hollering. Just then, the door flies open and an elderly man with a big belly and an even bigger silver mustache waddles outside with an angry look on his face.
Man: You two degenerates weren’t supposed to walk out with them there belts, and you know it. I suggest you do what’s right and get back in here and lose them in a “rematch”.
Erik: Like hell we will, old man. We won these belts fair and square. We can’t help it if your boys aren’t up to par.
Robbie looks down to Spike. He didn’t realize it then, but now he knows the fight was scripted. His father and uncle couldn’t bare to lose in front of Spike and Jamie, so they pulled the old switcheroo and booked it out of there, just to give their boys a good showing. They were successful in that, and started something. As much as Robbie wanted to avoid it, the end result was a second World Heavyweight title reign in the most prestigious wrestling company on Earth, and a successful regional title reign on top of that. Even though Robbie Staggs didn’t want this for his sons, he is most likely looking down on Spike with a sense of pride. This very moment in time sticks out as Spike’s fondest memory of the wrestling business, and his greatest inspiration that made him realize this was the career he was destined to embark upon.Spike’s dilated eyes soon adjust to the spotlight shining upon his face as he walks through the door of his hotel room. He has both of his title belts sticking out of his duffel bag as he sets it down on a black leather padded chair next to the door. He sets down a second bag next to it. Vixen walks in behind him with her phone pressed against her ear. She looks to Spike apologetically as she walks over toward the bathroom. She rolls her eyes as she converses with someone in French. Spike studies her with a bit of a frown as he listens to her voice getting louder and more impatient. She leans against the door frame and looks back to Spike with an apologetic look. Spike closes the door to the Manhattan room and his stern look overtakes his face. She doesn’t feel like getting attitude from both sides, so she turns away from Spike.
Vixen: No!
Vixen sighs in frustration before finally handing the phone out toward Spike. Spike looks a bit surprised and nods his head as if to ask if it is truly meant for him. When she nods her head in an irritated fashion, Spike takes the phone from her. They exchange a glare between the two that is almost completely uncommon for them. They share an awkward silence as Spike holds onto the phone. Vixen breaks the awkward silence by stating the obvious.
Vixen: It is Devlin.
Spike: Yeah… I kinda got that.
Spike clears his throat as Vixen gives him a dirty look. The whole Grinder event has put a strain on him and Vixen to a point he had never expected. He takes a deep breath and brings the phone closer to his mouth, speaking in a low, calm tone.
Spike: Hello?
Spike sits there silently, listening to the desperate arguing of his girlfriend’s brother. His face doesn’t lighten up a bit as he simply nods his head. He closes his eyes, taking in every word that comes his way. As he sits there deep in thought, he hears the bathroom door close. The bath water begins running from within, and Spike becomes just a tad bit more impatient.
Spike: Yes, yes I know…
That should suffice. Spike’s mind is somewhere entirely different right now, and the sound of Devlin’s voice almost had the effect of fingernails on a chalk board right now. Spike nods his head with more and more authority, spindling his fingers as if to silently tell him to wrap it up.
Spike: I am aware of her decision, and there isn’t a whole hell of a lot that I can do about it, Dev.
Spike is officially annoyed as his eyes and nostrils flare open. He stares at the bathroom door as if it were Devlin himself, and he balls up his fists.
Spike: Don’t you dare challenge my manhood, buddy! It isn’t like I don’t realize she is in for one hell of a beating. I would do anything… ANYTHING… to avoid that, Dev! I am not some chauvinist that can just tell her to get in the proverbial kitchen. This is 2013 and she is welcome to do anything her little heart desires.
Spike grits his teeth at the end as Devlin remains silent on the phone. Spike is on an unusual rampage that is just as common as he and Vixen arguing. He paces back and forth in front of the bathroom door as he hears Vixen mutter something from the bath tub. He tosses his head back, taking a deep sigh.
Spike: Hey, here’s an idea, Devlin… How about you tell me something I don’t already know. How about YOU give me some sort of magical idea that will solve this entire dilemma? *pause* Yeah, I’m a little edgy. *pause* Oh, could it be because I am not on the best of terms with Vixen because I want to protect her, and then I have her brother bitching incessantly at me to do exactly what I am already trying to do? Yeah, that’s probably it, bud…
Spike rolls his eyes as he falls back on the bed. He stares up at the ceiling quietly fuming as Devlin responds. Spike just tries to send it out of his head so that the real issue doesn’t come up. Of course, it wasn’t that kind of day. Devlin mutters a few short words that sends Spike back into his mood.
Spike: Yes, that has something to do with it too. You try giving respect to someone, and they wipe their ass with it? Maybe I am a bit naïve, but does anyone adhere to anything traditional in this sport anymore? *pause* Yeah, I didn’t think of that. “Oh, how about you just kick his ass because of it?” That’s the plan, Captain Obvious. Why don’t you give me some other bit of “vital” information that only a retard wouldn’t think of…
Spike rolls his eyes in annoyance as he props the phone against his shoulder and ear. He places his hands behind the back of his head, getting comfortable. His eyes wander across a tiny, almost inconspicuous crack in the ceiling, following it for several feet before he stops dead in his tracks. He looks as if he wants to retort with another smartass comment, but then it hits him… This idea is actually genius. A sly smile spreads across his face as he nearly becomes giddy.
Spike: Did I say retard? I meant *whisper* genius! Why didn’t I think of that myself?
Spike sits up, taking hold of the phone once again. He goes to the edge of the bed, setting his feet against the ground. He grabs onto his knee, excited as if he had just learned the meaning of life. He nods his head as Devlin continues. His smile grows wider as he listens on. If only Devlin had started out this way in the first place, Spike might have been able to avoid the slight tension headache forming.
Spike: I think I officially have a man crush on you right now… No, seriously though, that is an amazing plan. I will see what I can do about that. Oh, and promise me one thing, man… Don’t tell Vixen about it. I think she might have something to say about it if she found out, and neither one of us want to give her the chance. *pause* Don’t worry, I will deal with the aftermath myself. At least this way, we know she will be safe. We might need a sedative to make this work though…
Spike snickers at his joke. Devlin is heard chuckling through the phone. Finally, the two had cooked up something that would help remedy the situation at hand. Spike listens as Devlin wraps up the conversation. He nods his head, throwing in an occasional “Okay” in response. He hangs up the phone quietly and sets it on the nightstand next to the bed. He rolls to the edge and stands up, stretching a bit. His smile is still present, but he reaches his hand up to wipe it off. He sits there and practices a solemn face in the mirror before “sulking” over to the bathroom door. He gently opens it and looks over to Vixen in the tub.
Spike: I’m… sorry, Vix. I shouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it. You knew what you signed up for when you joined BACW, and I knew what I signed up for when we first kissed. It was… foolish of me to think I could talk you out of this.
Vixen: Yes it was.
Vixen splashes around a bit in the tub, but is blocked from view by Spike’s body. Spike bows his head, presumably trying to conceal a bit of a smile. He takes a couple steps inside of the bathroom, looking over toward the tub, still blocking Vixen from view.
Spike: In case you didn’t know what you signed up for, I will always do my best to make sure you are safe, properly cared for, and loved. If that is a crime, then put the cuffs on me right now…
Vixen: Maybe later, Spike…
It doesn’t take Spike long to catch onto that one. His smile returns to his face and he lets out a sultry sort of chuckle in response. He peels off his shirt and begins unbuttoning his pants, as he invites himself in to the bath tub. He shuts the door behind him and we fade out.
”The last man who brought up my children in their promo wound up on the early retirement list…”NWA World Heavyweight Champion Spike Staggs mutters to himself as he walks into the studio booth. In the background he hears “Numb/Encore” by Linkin Park and Jay-Z. He shrugs his shoulders at it until he peers around the room. It is riddled with Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, and Maroon 5 posters and stickers. He takes a deep breath when he notices the aging wannabe hipster in the backwards hat sitting in the chair, eyeballing him with the same sense of surprise. Spike puffs out his chest a bit, pushing through the leather jacket t reveal his red graffiti print New X-Tremes shirt. He runs his hand over his black, messy spiked hair, and his icy blue eyes stare back at the bushy browed man. He takes a few steps forward, but the New Yorker stops him dead in his tracks.
JJ: Whoa-ho-ho… The Edward Cullen look-a-like contest is bein’ held in the other building across the street, bro.
Spike: Ha, that’s funny because I haven’t heard that one before. Note the sarcasm… Yeah, anyway. I am Spike Staggs, set up for a 4:30 interview with JJ on Z100, but I guess they forgot to tell me they replaced him with Randal from Clerks?
JJ: Heheh, I like you kid! Come on in and have a seat. You must be that wrestling guy everyone around town is makin’ fun of?
Spike grins in a sort of oddball way. He should be somewhat upset by the fact that he is going into a second town with the NWA title where people want to see him fail, but it almost seems endearing. There was a time where Spike thrived on such emotions from the public. He steps forward and shakes hands with JJ. He pulls out a seat and sits down across from JJ, putting a set of headphones over his ears.
JJ: So once this song is done playin’, I will introduce you and we will bounce around with an intro and you can answer a few calls, okay?
Spike: Yeah, it’s not my first radio show, buddy.
Spike listens as the latest Lady Gaga tune progresses. He catches himself slowly bopping to it while JJ snickers and points it out to the producers. Spike catches on and slows it down, resisting the urge of commercialized pop music. He clears his throat as the music tempts his feet. He desperately waits until the song finally comes to an end. It goes directly into a brief sound byte.
*GET READY FOR THE SMACK DOWN!*
JJ: That’s right New York, we got the opportunity to have the National Wrestling Alliance’s own WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… Spike Staggs… sitting in for some Spectre smack talk, and then he will answer a few questions from our listeners! Yeah, you heard it right. So, Spike, welcome to the Tri-State area.
Spike listens on with a smirk spread across his face. Once he hears his cue, he clears his throat with authority, leaning forward against the table.
Spike: Thank you, JJ. It is great to be here, even if I had to go into New Jersey to reach out to New York.
JJ: Ooooh, harsh bro.
Spike: I kid, I kid! The smog is only half as bad as the Midwest rumors it to be. ANYWAY… I look forward to appearing at the Madison Square Garden which I hear is sold out for the biggest Bad A$$ Championship Wrestling show of the year, Grinder! Spectre and I have been given the task of pumping the crowd up for the bloodiest match in the history of BACW, and I think we will do exactly that.
JJ: C’mon! Maybe in little old St. Louis, Missouri, that is how they trash talk, but New York wants to hear you rip Spectre apart, or at least try…
Spike spreads a sly grin across his face as he has been given the green light. He takes a sip from a nearby water bottle, wetting his throat down. JJ gives him an eye motion, telling him to go at it. Spike lets out an almost sadistic laugh as he obliges.
Spike: You see, I really… really don’t see a point in telling New York that I will slaughter Spectre. Why the f*ck should I go on about how my c*ck is bigger than his, or some other macho bullsh*t? I am tired of hearing all of it. Person A says Person B is a piece of sh*t wrestler, then Person B retaliates with some menial garbage about how Person A sucks worse. I was the bigger man when I stated on a national level that I respected Spectre. He chose to slap me in the face as if I were some sort of b*tch who would just sit back and take it. The sad fact is that I am the NWA Heavyweight Champion because I don’t play your typical smart a$$ big c*ck macho man. I have a brain, and I use it.
Spike nods his head, letting JJ know that his short rant is now over. JJ claps his hands and points at Spike as if the listening audience could see it. He lets out an obnoxious laugh before turning in his seat to face the prompter.
JJ: There you have it! Now let’s get some callers. We got Javier calling in from Newark. Javier, you are on the air.
Javier: Hi Spike. Welcome to New Jersey. I am a big fan of you, but I am worried. Are you at all afraid that Spectre transcended the big c*ck macho man “bullsh*t” in his early airing promo? He brought up some legitimate claims saying that you put your family and friends in the line of fire for your opponents to use against you.
Spike: Let me bring up some facts that the world might not know about me and y family. I am a second generation wrestler, along with my brothers Jamie and Tommy Staggs. We lived our lives under the wrestling spotlight. I haven’t known life to be any other way. When some dumbass tries to drag my brothers into it, they are capable of handling themselves. I expect in the next few years, my son will also enter the wrestling world. In twelve or so years, my daughter will probably enter the sport. It is in our blood. I don’t regret showing them off to the world because I am proud of my greatest creations. Just don’t let that fool you. I understand the wrestling world isn’t built around integrity anymore. If some piece of trash wants to exploit my children, or threaten to harm them, then you will see a real monster come out of me.
Spike gives a nod to JJ once more to signal he is done with the topic. JJ scrolls back to the prompter and turns his headset back on.
JJ: Well said. Let’s welcome Sam from Staten Island to the air. Sam, you are live.
Sam: Yeah, I was wondering why you’re such a smug bastard, Spike Staggs. I ean, you walk around like a rock star, but Spectre said it straight when he called you out on ya short title run last summer.
Spike: Awesome. I guess this is a case of opinions and assholes, right? Everyone’s got one. Well, Sam… Sometimes people reach for things that make them feel safe. Excuses and misinterpretations of facts are the main safety nets people fall back on. Spectre is right in the fact that I did fail to retain the NWA title belt for very long last summer. I felt a duty to help rebuild my home region after a few things went on, and they needed me. I didn’t feel like it was in my best interest to split my priorities.
Sam: Well, ain’t that what you’re doin’ now, jerkoff?
Spike pauses for a moment. Deep down, he wants to read this guy his constitutional rights, but he simply takes a deep breath. An arrogant smile comes over his face, but he does his best to choke it all back. JJ silently cheers, throwing his arms up at the ratings being drawn to the broadcast.
Spike: The difference is that I realized I am capable of such greatness. I proved it when I defeated Chris Xtreme, just days before defending my regional title two weeks ago against Rage at SCW’s Blaze of Glory II. I defeated both men in a matter of days, and then I realized I can carry both my region and my alliance on my shoulders, and lead them into greatness. Spectre can blind himself by exploiting my past insecurities, but the fact is that I have defeated enough BACW legends to prove my worth as the head Champion of the NWA.
JJ: A lot of initials there! Is everybody at home following? Anyway, we got another caller. Christy from… Las Vegas… calling? Christy you’re on the air!
Christy: Oh my god, HI! Spike. I wanted to ask… will you let me have your third Staggs love child?
Spike can’t help but burst out into laughter. The absurdity of his own local fan sends him over the edge of professionalism. JJ joins in on the laughter as Spike tries his best to catch his breath.
Spike: I am afraid I have to decline. I am happily paired with Vixen, and I don’t think she would be open to that. Why don’t you try for Jamie? Next caller?
JJ: Alright then. Looks like we have time for one last caller. We got Jeffrey from Manhattan. Jeffrey, what you got?
Jeffrey: Hey, yeah I wanted to tell Spike something… YOU SUCK! Get outta here!
JJ: Oh-ho! That’s not a question. One more, bring it on folks. Looks like we got… Tony from the Bronx. Tony, you’re live bro.
Tony: First off, welcome to New York, Spike. I’m an objective kinda guy. I was just wonderin’s if ya had any words on Spectre’s claim that ya really don’t respect him.
Spike folds his hands in front of him on the table after taking a quick sip from the water bottle. He nods his head, appreciative of someone who can actually stay on topic.
Spike: Well, thanks for the welcome, Tony. I didn’t really think much of it, actually. This sport is filled with back stabbing and lies, so it is to be expected that some would come at it with a skeptical view. The thing that gets me is that I am not your typical wrestler, like I said before. I enjoy friendly competition just as much as I enjoy an all-out brawl. Something about a friendly bout helps one sleep easier at night… Well, at least for me it does. When you are occupied by anger and rage, you don’t truly get a chance to show off your skills, and show why you are the best. I sit up and wish I would have done something differently, whereas when it is a friendly fight, I go in with a clear head, and leave with no regrets win or lose. I truly meant it when I said I respected Spectre. I am not just a Sin City guy. Fed boundaries mean nothing when you are serious about being a WORLD tier champion. Anyone competing on the World level aren’t defined strictly by their region in my eyes. Competition is competition. I am the champion for a reason. I missed my throne, and I will stop at nothing to stay in it, but Spectre should know better than to assume that I am a liar. Respect or not, a fight is a fight. Integrity is always present with me, even if I am a bit unorthodox. I stand by the fact that I truly respect The Spectre, even though I like him a whole lot less now. I still wish him luck at Grinder… March 31st, live on Pay-Per-View. Check your local listings *AHEM* Cheap plug.
JJ: Well, that’s all the time we have, folks. Big thanks to Spike Staggs for joining us today. Like he said, you can find out who wins now that the war of words is over, and the fists will fly… March 31st, BACW Grinder comes at you from Madison Square Garden, and we got four free tickets to this sold out event for caller number 100! In the meantime, thanks Spike, it has been great.
Spike: Yeah, wonderful… Good day New York slash New Jersey.
With that, the “Smack Down” by Thousand Foot Krutch plays as they lead to a commercial break. The phones light up as Spike removes his headset. He stands up from the seat and shakes hands with JJ and the producer, chatting with them as we fade out.;.. TO BLACK!
