[Giani Di Luca]

 {I got my speakers on wrecked}

{Cut Scene}

A green screen shows off the Vegas skyline underneath the Sin City Wrestling logo.  A lone canvas chair sits in front of the screen, left empty for a moment, that is… until “The Italian Stallion” Giani Di Luca comes stepping up to it.  He is wearing a fresh white hoodie with his “Italian Stallion” logo on the back with some studded blue jeans and some clean as ice white sneakers.  He flexes his bulky muscles, posing for a moment before sitting down in the chair.  He looks curiously into the lens reflection, picking something from his teeth before making sure his hair is pure perfection.  Once he is satisfied with his appearance, he chooses to further ignore our presence as he holds a finger up at the camera.  He pulls out his cell phone and runs his fingers over the screen quickly.  He continues this for nearly a full minute before a voice is heard clearing their throat from behind the camera.  Giani pauses where he is, slowly raising his eyes up to look into the camera.  His lips part slightly as his dark eyes register annoyance.  He sits there for a second before setting his phone down.

Giani:  Yo… You got a problem, dawg?

Giani waits as the cameraman remains silent.  He turns forward, giving the man behind the camera his complete and undivided attention.  His lips remain parted while the corners curl up into a little bit of a smile.  He stares for all of twenty seconds before chuckling to himself.

Giani:  Hey!  Are ya deaf, bro?  I just asked you a question.  Do… you… got… a… problem… DAWG?

Cameraman:  No, no problem, it’s just…

Giani shakes his head as he leans back in his seat.  He runs his fingertips over his temples slowly before smiling big, exposing his perfect teeth.  He claps his hands together, setting his elbows on his knees as he leans down a bit, sitting as informally as he can.  Finally, he shakes his finger at the cameraman, raising his eyebrows to let us know something’s about to go down, dawg…

Giani:  The way you was clearin’ ya throat and all, I thought you might have a problem with bein’ put as a second priority.  I was makin’ a point for ya, and everyone else who is watchin’ this.  Let me break it down for the dumbasses sittin’ at their computers in their crusty underwear, wishin’ they had this kind of swag.

Giani pauses long enough to raise both index fingers in the air.  He points to both sides of his head, nodding as he ever so slowly lowers them down to his fresh sneakers.  He shrugs his shoulders before getting serious.  He leans back in his seat just a bit, straightening his back so everyone watching gets acquainted with the “new” Giani.

Giani:  Now that you seen how serious this shit really is up in here, maybe you can comprehend with ya little minds exactly what my point was.  See, I made sure that y’all knew you was my last priority here.  My cell phone is more important than you.  My hair is more important than the viewers.  I used to run around backstage tryin’ to make the fans like me.  I hustled my shit as much as I could to earn TV time.  Why should I hafta do that?  I’m Giani Di Fuckin’ Luca.  I am the whole show.  I gave up a good thing to come to Sin City, and I turn into nothin’ but an errand boy for Spike Staggs?  I ain’t no one’s bitch.

Giani emphasizes his last statement by drawing out the last word, spitting a bit when he says it.  He lunges forward for a slight second, puffing out his chest and broadening his shoulders.  He is worked up, but he quickly calms himself down.

Giani:  Erik Staggs reminded me of where I came from.  When I signed that contract, and looked that smug bastard in the face, I thought I was gonna shine here all by myself.  I left a good thing to come here.  I was on my way to the top on the fast track in Bad Ass Championship Wrestling, in my own back yard.  I left that to be stuck at the bottom and I didn’t even realize it until Erik told me I would never go anywhere here unless things changed.  I always told peoples I don’t need to explain myself to nobody.  When I Jersey Turnpike’d that ass kisser, Spike Staggs, I was makin’ a statement.  Things are gonna change around here, bro.  This is just the beginning…

{End Cut Scene}


Wild Ones

The music pulses through the speakers of Zona Rosa Night Club in Bogota, Columbia.  The walls are shaking with the heavy house music.  Despite the smaller size of the club, it is packed inside with several of SCW’s most important talents… Erik Staggs, James Huntington-Hawkes, Simpson, and Roxanne are all present in the club, sitting next to Giani Di Luca in the VIP Lounge.  A sexy senorita is grinding over Erik Staggs as he grins at her.  James looks a bit awkward as Giani slides a bill in another scantily clad woman’s belt loop.  She walks over to James and turns around, bending over so he might play a game known as “Peephole.”  Giani laughs, but can’t be heard as the woman begins her corruption of James.  Erik tosses out a few bills as money hungry woman nearly ravage each other to get at the bills.  Erik motions over to Simpson and Roxanne as the two woman smirk at each other and work their way over to the two.  A third woman stuffs a small wad of cash in her top and works her way over to Giani who politely declines.  She shrugs her shoulders as she clicks her heels against the ground, walking away so that he can see what he is missing.  Erik gives him an odd look, but Giani just shrugs his shoulders.  He pulls out his phone, seeing nothing on the screen.  He contemplates making another attempt, but decides against it.  Erik leans over, whispering words of encouragement to Giani, but that doesn’t make the hearty Italian feel any better.  Instead, he walks over to the edge of the balcony overlooking the dance floor.  The house music fades out slowly as the roar of the club can be heard.  Giani leans down with his elbows on the railing.  For the first time ever, Giani looks as if he were in a general depression.  Rather than joining the mob for a dance as we are used to seeing, Giani just sits there, watching the crowd have their fun.  “Wild Ones” by Flo Rida and Sia comes on over the speakers, starting out slowly as couples pair off and singles bounce up and down to the beat.  A hint of a smile comes over Giani’s face as he rests his chin in his hands, allowing his platinum iced out cross dangles from his neck.  He is dressed to impress tonight with a black and silver Ed Hardy tattoo design t-shirt and studded jeans, looking perfect as always.  His deep brown eyes stare across the dance floor, scanning for something.  On the edge of the floor, he finds it.  He spots dark brown locks, olive skin, ample top and back, in a red party dress, dancing alone.  Red is a sign of desperation, and Giani reads it loud and clear.  However, he doesn’t even move, let alone try to approach her.  He watches her attempt at blending in with the happy crowd, but he can tell she is feeling the same way he is.  As if destiny had worked its magic, her eyes wander up to him and from all the way across the club, her bottom lip quivers.  As much as they try to break their stare, they can’t.

Giani can’t avoid it any longer.  As much as he tries to play a jerk on TV, he is still human, and who is he to slap destiny across the face?  As the music continues to progress, he feels like he is moving in slow motion as he walks down the steps to the lower level.  As he reaches the bottom, he sees the gorgeous Latina trying to weave in through the crowds toward him.  A man grabs onto her wrist, forcing her to turn around and dance with him, and Giani’s face turns to anger as he spins the guy around.  Their heated words are masked by the music, but the short, skinny guy hauls off and punches Giani across the face.  Giani’s head remains ajar for a moment as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  A smile comes over his face as he grabs onto the kid’s shirt, lifting him up high in the air with one arm while tossing him into a pillar.  He follows after the guy, punching across his face as the beauty chases after him.  Giani cracks a bottle over the pillar, holding the point up to the man’s neck in a rage.  The fiery senorita grabs at his arm, doing what she can to pull him away.  She pleads with him, but even if the music weren’t so loud, he still wouldn’t understand her words.  He does understand her eyes, and the passionate kiss that she lays on him before security shoves him along.  She waves at him, exclaiming something as he reaches back toward her.  The five bouncers shove him out of the door and when he hears the word “policia” he knows it is time to move along.  He shuffles along the sidewalk on his long journey back to the hotel with a strong buzz going on.  His face is dripping sweat as he calms down from the adrenaline rush, but it is covered with regret that he didn’t get a chance to get to know this Columbian seductress that he can’t get out of his mind.  The city streets blur at his side as he tries to make it to his destination.

About half way there, he hears a loud voice calling off in the distance.  “Senor Di Luca!  Giani! Espera por favor!”  He stops dead in his tracks.  A faint tear is seen in the corner of his eyes as he looks up from the ground.  He slowly turns his head back to see that red beauty doing her best to run at him in heels.  He charges at her in slow motion.  The gap between them slowly decreases until finally, they reach each other.  She falls into his arms as he lifts her up, spinning her around in a full circle, looking into her deep, dark eyes.  As he holds her there, the moon shining behind her, casting an angelic glow upon her, she leans down and kisses him.  The streets of Bogota cheer for them as they both smile widely for one another.  He sets her down on her feet and they hold hands as they run off.  She giggles, speaking in Spanish as they reach the hotel…

Moments later, they come crashing through the hotel room door, going at it like teens on Prom night.  She paws at his torso, ripping his shirt over his head.  Between kisses, he leans down, pulling her dress of slowly.  Before pulling it over her head, he kisses her passionately.  Once the dress is off, and the black lace underwear is all she is wearing, she rips off his belt.  She tosses it to the side, kicking her heels off as she leans back on the bed.  Giani leans down over her, his massive frame almost eclipsing her beauty.  She runs her hands down the small of his back before sliding his Italian flag boxers down low, caressing him against her as she wraps her legs around him.  Their eyes lock onto each others, and the rest is hours of pure ecstasy…

Once the passion subsides momentarily, they both lie under the plush comforter, concealing what is only for their eyes.  Giani wipes away at his forehead slowly, letting out a sigh of relief before letting out a low chuckle.  His seductress, come to find out is named Daniela, nestles her head against his chest, running her crimson red nails across his chest.  Her body quivers against Giani’s well toned, tanned chest.

Daniela:  Usted es un amante… fantástico!

Giani raises an eyebrow as he reaches over to find his translator dictionary.  He thumbs through a few pages, finding out what she meant.  He pieces it together and smiles, running his fingers through her dark black hair.  With his other hand, he thumbs through the pages carefully trying to piece together a response of his own.

Giani:  Let’s see… how do ya say “Make me a sandwich or get the f*ck outta my bed…?”

Cluelessly, Daniela continues to run her fingers over his chest, favoring his nipple momentarily.  He softly chuckles to himself   She purrs gently in his arms as his smile widens.  He always wondered if he would get an opportunity to say that in another language.  After all, it had been a busy day for him and the rest of Team Erik, and his cardio work out just now has him ready to go to sleep.  He grins as he leans down, gently lifting her chin up so that he looks down into his eyes.  He leans down close to her lips, teasing her with his soft lips.  He reads her vulnerability, and for the slightest of seconds, he almost doesn’t want to say it, but…

Giani: Me hacen un sándwich o vete a mi cama!

She tilts her head to the side, slowly understanding through his bad linguistics.  Even once she gets it, she chuckles a little as if it were a joke.  Giani smirks, and she leans up to look him in the eye.  He shrugs his shoulders before thumbing through the pages once again.

Giani:  Uhhhh… Me esta, er, muchos serioso.

She narrows her eyes at him, trying to discern the truth, until she realizes he really means it.  She shoves him hard as she begins speaking at light speed.  She shrieks at him as he sits there, taking it all in stride.

Giani:  I don’t understand a single word of it, but I assume it’s somethin’ like “Oh, Giani, why are you such an asshole?  First ya rip me open like a bag of chips, and then ya toss me to the side like trash?”  You’re the slut who spread ya legs for me sweetie.  Move along because I’m done usin’ that up.

She slides her dress on, collecting her undies as she slips her shoes on.  She is fuming as she approaches the door.  She turns around with a furious look on her face, holding her fingers apart about an inch.

Daniela:  Un poco, Giani…

Giani: You wasn’t sayin’ that for the last three hours, trick.  Go on before I call la policia to put ya in el jail cell… Psycho

Giani slowly waves at her as she slams the door behind her.  His slick grin fades when he cracks up laughing.  He stops, shaking his head slowly as he tries to stop his laughter.  He pulls on his jeans, carefully zipping them up as he feels proud of himself for tonight’s escapades.

Giani:  What?  Did she think I was like some pussy whipped Spike Staggs kinda guy who wants to talk or cuddle afterwards er somethin’?

Giani looks out the window, seeing the woman throwing things up toward his window in anger and he just shakes his head.  He closes the curtains before turning around to head toward the bathroom.  He lets out one last laugh before shutting the door and we fade.


{Cut Scene}

Once again, we switch to Giani in the green screen booth, this time we are showing off the night life of Lima, Peru in the background underneath the SCW logo.  Giani is chuckling to himself once again, shrugging his shoulders as he adjusts himself in the canvas chair.

Giani:  What did ya expect from me?  Did ya think I was gonna magically find love in Columbia?  This ain’t a fairytale.  I’m Grade A Italian Beefcake.  That’s too much for an ordinary woman to handle.  It’s gonna take a real woman to tame this stallion, and Daniela wasn’t woman enough.

Giani nods his head to accentuate his point.  Suddenly, he notices a hair or two out of place.  He licks his thumb and index finger, gently fixing them until they are perfectly in place.  He clicks his jaw with a quick thumbs up gesture before continuing.

Giani:  Sorry honey, but it’s the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts.  I ain’t met anyone who was enough for me.  Kinda like inside of the ring.  Two losses in my entire year long career, and neither one was a clean win for my opponent.  That dumbass Jamie Staggs cost me a match against Michael Barnes in BACW and then my lil bro, J-Fly Hawkes, only beat me by rockin’ me with the ring bell.  Last I heard, Erik Staggs cleared that loss from my record, so I’m technically undefeated here in SCW.

Giani grins while he thinks about it for a second.  He has a gleeful look in his eyes while he reminisces in his own greatness for a moment before getting serious again.

Giani:  When I get to Peru, I will prove to everyone in SCW, and the fans, that I belong here in the Main Event.  I don’t care if I gotta beat Thatcher Rex and Argento all by my damn self to prove it.  Of course, since I ain’t Spike Staggs or Nick Jones, I’m gonna get stuck fightin’ Trevor Irons or some other shit wrestler who is happy with anything Mark and Christian throws at them.  Fuckin’ idiots…  Get ready to see the biggest, best thing to hit the ring since Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka.

Giani stares on for emphasis once more before getting up from his seat.  He walks off, and seconds later, the screen cuts to black before sizzling with fuzz.

{End Cut Scene}

{I got my speakers on wrecked}


Politics

The first class flight from Bogota to Lima was tiresome with all of the complaining going on amongst the members of Team Erik shy of Misty and Roxanne, who had split off for ACW 11 Live, and “Primetime” Matthew Kennedy who went to Manhattan for Grinder.  Giani remembers hearing it all from the time the show in Bogota had started, all the way until they split up at the hotel.  Not that any bit of it was undeserved of course.  Giani isn’t one to complain too much, so he kept his own thoughts to himself the entire time.  Now it is time for a lunch meeting between Erik Staggs, Kevin Carter, and Giani himself.  If there is one positive thing about Giani other than his God-like physique and chiseled face… it is his punctuality.  He has arrived to the restaurant considerably early for the meeting.  He looks a bit bored as he types away on his phone.  We come around to see a small icon in the corner of his phone that is a picture of Misty, but he quickly puts his phone away as Erik Staggs walks up toward the table.  Erik has a big grin on his face as he holds a fist out, waiting for it to get bumped.  Giani raises an eyebrow and then laughs as he obliges Erik.  Giani lowers the hood of his “Italian Stallion” hoodie and unzips it, no doubt plugging his Fuhgeddaboudit T-shirt.  Erik pulls out a chair, ready to sit down as he verbally greets Giani.

Erik:  So nice to see you found this little place.  It is the best restaurant in Lima.  Of course… that doesn’t say much.  But, it beats McDonalds.

Erik takes his seat, looking around with a slight hint of disgust at the tiny, dark café.  Giani nods his head, agreeing with Erik as he looks around at the clientele.  The sweaty businessmen coming in on their lunch break leaves a foul smell circulating with the bad air conditioning.  Giani fans his face, not quite used to the temperature difference at the end of their summer.  He picks up a menu, studying the Spanish words to see if anything sounded good.

Giani:  I’m not sure about that.  They got anything good here that ain’t on a stick, or looks like hog feed?

Erik:  No…

Giani waits for Erik to smile, or hint that he is joking, but it never comes.  After a few seconds of waiting, Giani’s eyes lower down toward the menu and he sighs, feeling disgusted with the choices presented in front of him.  Erik thumbs through the menu quickly, deciding for himself already despite his own look of detest.  The waiter comes by with a pad and pen at the ready.

Waiter:  Lo que me da para usted señores hoy?

Erik:  Estamos a la espera de una persona más antes de que nos fin.  Para beber, por favor nos traen su mejor cerveza, no cal por favor?

Waiter:  Sí, enseguida.

Erik sets the menu down on the table as Giani looks at him curiously.  Erik taps his fingers on the table slowly until Giani sets the menu down on the table in frustration.

Giani:  Screw it, dawg.  I ain’t eatin’ any of this trash.  Get me some alcohol right away.

Erik:  That has already been taken care of, Giani.  Might I recommend the causa?  It is quite delectable if I might say so myself.

Giani:  Okay.  Might I recommend you let me in on what this meeting’s all about?  I mean, one of the few good things about this disgusting place is that it is summer, and the hotel’s got a pool.

Erik clasps his hands together, finally stopping the annoying finger tapping.  He stares at Giani for a moment as if he had just asked what color the grass was.  Once he realizes that Giani is serious, he scoffs out loud.

Erik:  I always thought you broke the typical Italian stereotype of being an imbecile, but apparently the joke was on me… Let me ask you this; who paid for the hotel before I threw in the extra cash to upgrade us all?  Hm?  Was it Mark Ward Jr. and Christian Underwood?

Giani:  Yeah, so?

Erik:  So… don’t you think that they might be hanging around there with ears on us to find out what we are planning so they can get the jump on us?  Whether they admit it or not, each week we back them further and further into a corner and this is only the third show with us being exposed.  Desperation will rear its ugly head again, and I refuse to give them any more leverage than they already have on us.

Giani:  Okay, okay… ya don’t gotta be such a douchebag, Staggs.

Giani almost seems to pout as he lowers his eyes.  He looks back down to his phone, smirking a bit as he rapidly runs his fingers over the screen in response.  He makes it quick and puts the phone back into his pocket before looking back up at Erik.

Giani:  Its nice to know that ya got plans to make this show go our way.  Carter’s gonna walk out as Heavyweight Champion, Amy, Laura, or Becky’s gonna be facin’ Misty at the next Supercard so we keep that title no matters what.  Ace is gonna pound Jordan’s tired ass skills into the mat.  Necra and Amanda will knock the hell outta what’s her face and NXT’s metal tits.  And I could take Thatcher Rex and Argento out all by myself if I wanted to.  But my question is this; what is so important that ya needed to call a meetin’ with me and Kevin?

Erik:  Like you said, we are running the Bombshell Division, and this show won’t make a damned bit of difference in that fact.  I am expressing a strong interest in Joanne Canelli and The Fallen, taking all but two titles from SCW.  Kevin will be taking up one of those titles very soon.  Since James is not allowed to go after the Roulette Championship due to Mark and Christian protecting Thatcher Rex… I need you to go out there and beat the top contender in that division along with the champion.  I want you to prove that the last title we have yet to claim could easily be taken away by any of our men.

The waiter comes back with both of their beers, popping the top off of the longnecks right at the table.  Giani quickly scoops his up and sucks on it like a baby sucking on a bottle, holding up his finger for the waiter to bring him another.  Erik looks amazed at how quickly Giani downs the first.  Once Giani kills it, he smacks his lips and sighs as he slams it down to the table, causing the whole restaurant to look at them.

Giani:  Let me make somethin’ clear here.  When I came to SCW as a fun little party boy from Jersey, I woulda settled for this kinda competition.  I woulda went out there and hustled my skills and picked apart someone like Thatcher Rex.  Then, I woulda worn the Roulette Championship until I got tired of it, several months down the line.  That’s where I was then.  Now, I’m pissed that they threw this garbage at my feet.  They expect me to make them look good, but it’s impossible.  You saw how I Jersey Turnpike’d Rex in the parking lot.  I picked that old fucker apart with that and a couple fists.  Imagine what I will do when it’s an actual match.

Erik nurses the beer like a gentleman, slowly sipping on it as he listens to Giani go on about Rex.  He is loving the fire in Giani’s eyes and in his spirit, even as Giani snatches the beer out of the waiter’s hand like a “typical Peruvian”.  Erik nods a polite “gracias” to the waiter as Giani takes a long sip from the second bottle.  He is about to say something when Giani cuts him off.

Giani:  The sad part is that Rex is the biggest threat on the other team!  That Florence jerk-off who calls himself a true Italian?  He’s too pale and blue eyed to have the power of Sicily runnin’ through his veins.  I feel sorry for the kid because he is gonna look black and blue by the time me and whoever the hell ya got lined up as my partner are done with him.  It’s the way it’s gonna be since he ain’t sided with us yet.  He would be smart to, cause then we could teach him a thing or two.

Erik:  All I am asking you to do is to think about trying to take that title away from Rex since James is ineligible.  Suck up your pride for one damned minute and think about what this could mean for us, for our cause!

Giani:  Like I said.  Ya just a little too late for that one, Staggs.  Instead of this bein’ like my forth match in SCW, two of which was bullshit cause of illegal weapons, and a stupid ass rookie trained by Spike Staggs as my partner, you, Mark, and Christian shoulda booked me more.  Ya shoulda used the best talent in SCW instead of throwin’ rookies at him once every couple months and expectin’ him to be happy with that.  In my free time, which has been way too much lately, I realized I’m done goin’ for a second rate title.  I’ll show off and stampede over anyone they throw at me in the ring, but when it comes to the title hunts, I ain’t lookin’ at the second best.  To steal a line from my opponent, I won’t settle for second place.  I’m gonna do somethin’ I ain’t never done before, boss.

Giani picks up his beer and takes another sip of it while Erik looks at him curiously.  He thinks about it for a second and then speaks up.

Erik:  If you don’t want the Roulette title, then what exactly do you want?

Giani:  Aside from provin’ why I’m the best by beatin’ anyone they throw at me, I’m sayin’ I want to go one of two ways, see?  Forget the Roulette.  I wanna go for the top prize, or I’ll get me a partner, and we’s gonna go for the tag gold, bro.

Erik:  But, after Sunday, both of those will belong to Kevin Carter.

Speaking of Kevin, Erik looks down at his watch, noticing how early both men had arrived at the café.  He sighs, looking at the door as if expecting Kevin to walk in any minute as Giani leans back in his seat.  Giani laces his fingers behind his head, smiling the cheesiest grin he possibly can.

Giani:  Tell ya boy there ain’t no need to be greedy with the gold, then.  Make him challenge me for one of them.  I respect the hell outta Kevin, but the truth is that if it came down to it, I would jump on the chance to take one of them belts away.  Either one, dawg.  I ain’t satisfied with bein’ stuck in one spot, and Kevin’s already jumpin’ all over the place here.  Just remember who the first person to join ya cause was.  Just remember the first person who stood by ya side in public and didn’t hide fuck all from the fans or Mark and Christian.  Just remember who is gonna be loyal to ya until ya done with him.  I’m like a pitbull.  I am ride or die, Staggy.  Just keep that in mind.

Giani picks his beer up and begins slowly sipping on it.  The potency of South American beer surprises Giani, giving him a buzz already.  The tension he was feeling about being in the armpit of the world has faded away now, and he starts to breath a little more freely now.  Erik is loving the attitude and the fire burning inside of Giani.  He, too, leans back in his chair, taking a second or two to admire it.

Erik:  I understand where you are coming from, Giani.  I really do.  You are driven, and you have spent too much time being put on the back burner in this organization.  As much as I want us to promote unity within our alliance, it would go against our fundamental beliefs if I asked you to give up your dream and settle for less than you deserve.  I would be no better than Mark and Christian if I asked you to do that.  Rest assured that getting you near any other title will be very difficult right now, though.

Giani:  I guess I gotta go out there and do what I do best.  I’m gonna go out there and embarrass the competition and put another mark in the W column.  This time, I ain’t goin’ out there just to show my loyalty to you, Erik.  I’m goin’ out there to show Thatcher Rex that he ain’t even in my league, and that it was a big mistake to turn down sidin’ with us.  Not to mention our little war of words on Twitter where he called me out, sayin’ I ain’t a threat to him when I’m a threat to all of SCW.  The prehistoric piece of crap is gonna learn a lesson.  Siding with Team SCW will not guarantee him protection from us, because we are unstoppable.  That mixed with my little vendetta will lead me to my third win in SCW.

Giani nurses down the rest of his beer before spotting Kevin Carter outside of the restaurant. Giani looks back to Erik with a smirk on his face as he slowly stands up from his seat.  Erik looks a little surprised to see Giani leaving so soon.  Giani reaches into his pocket, pulling his wallet from his hoodie.  Erik shakes his head.

Erik:  No need to worry about it.  I’ve got this one taken care of as a business expense.

Erik winks as Giani shrugs his shoulders.  He tucks his wallet back into his pocket and pushes his chair against the table.  Giani nods his head before looking toward the door, ready to make his escape.

Giani:  I’m gonna go work on my tan so I look my best when I’m putting Thatcher Rex back in his place.  Go ahead and give your little pep talk to Kevin.  Make sure he don’t strain a muscle carrying both of them titles out of this God forsaken city, will ya?

Giani nudges Erik playfully as he chuckles.  Erik pats Giani on the back as Giani walks toward the door, flipping his hood up over his head and sliding on his iced out sunglasses.  He puffs his chest out as he pushes through the door, exiting the restaurant as we fade out.


{I got my speakers on Wrecked}

In My Head Pt III


”The fans of Sin City Wrestling were in complete and utter shock when it was announced just moments before Climax Control went on the air live from Lima, Peru that the match of Argento and Thatcher Rex versus Giani Di Luca and a mystery opponent, was cancelled.  Everyone expected to hear from Thatcher Rex, Argento, Giani Di Luca, and an unnamed person.  No one said a word leading up to the match, and even worse, no one showed up for the match.  The only person who showed up to the arena at all was Giani Di Luca, and the fans have had their fill of this egotistical jerk off running around the ring, butting into other people’s business.  They were ready to see him step back in the ring in hopes of seeing him get his ass kicked.  Much to my delight, that did not happen.  However, much to my own dismay, no one put any effort into that match, including my own team members.  I am sorely disappointed in both of them, but there will be a match to make up for it three times over.  Live from the Movistar Arena in Santiago, Chile, Giani Di Luca, James Huntington-Hawkes, and a different mystery partner of my choosing will be taking on Thatcher Rex and… Sinful Obsession in one of the first big Team Erik versus Team SCW matches.  I have faith in my men to show up and make me proud in what will be one of our biggest wins to date.”

-Erik Staggs via Wrestling Source Online

Giani stared at the words for what seemed like an eternity.  Disappointment fills his eyes as he reads between the lines, noticing Erik Staggs has scolded him in his public address.  Giani has never settled for less than his best in any aspect of his life, and to have failed an opportunity to advance both himself and Erik Staggs’ cause makes him angry with himself.  He wipes away some of the white face paint he was wearing from his stunt with Erik Staggs and Kevin Carter earlier on in the night.  As he looks up from his phone and into the mirror, he starts wiping more of the make up off until he sees someone staring back at him.  His own face has transformed into Spike Staggs, shaking his head in disappointment.  Giani growls and looks away, but that doesn’t make his conscience disappear.

”Spike”:  You are worthless, Giani.  You are so worthless that you couldn’t even seize the opportunity to walk into the ring for an easy win.  Even Kevin Carter had enough brains to do that… Are you really comfortable being a thug for anyone who thinks you have even just a minute amount of talent?

Giani’s jaw clinches as he turns away from the mirror all together.  Deep down, his own disappointment in himself continues to eat away at him.  “Spike” smirks back at him, shaking his head even more.  Spike chuckles, ringing inside of Giani’s head, getting louder and louder before Giani finally turns around to confront his demons.

Giani:  Shut up, dawg, or else I’m gonna break ya face!

”Spike”:  Oh?  Do you mean the same way you broke Thatcher Rex’s face?  The same way you broke Argento’s face last week?  If so, I don’t have a damn thing to worry about then.

Spike’s smirk only makes Giani’s grimace even bigger.  Giani balls up his fists, ready to break the mirror, but he controls himself.  Who really wants scars on a body as perfect as Giani’s?

Giani:  Get over ya-self kid.  You got absolutely no room to talk considerin’ I had to show up for you to your match.  So don’t come at me like that, bro, cause you are fightin’ a losing battle.

Spike:  That is very funny.  Almost too funny, Giani.  You always were a comedian alongside Jamie.  You know, in your comfort zone?  Surrounded by people who made you look better only by comparison.  It’s safe, I totally get it.

Giani:  You USED me to make yourself look better, Spike!  You did that with every member of NXT, and I got tired of livin’ in your shadow.  I ain’t doin’ it no more.

Giani feels a bit of victory over his conscience, but that doesn’t last long as Spike just shakes his head.  Giani raises an eyebrow in curiosity as Spike leans forward.  His blue eyes pierce through the glass through the black eyeliner.

Spike:  I inspire the younger generation and give them the tools to succeed.  I was forced into a very tough decision, and either way I knew I was going to let people down.  You just got lazy.  Where you might have stood a chance defeating Thatcher Rex and Argento, you have to take on World Champions as well as the Roulette Champion.  How else do I say this other than… you’re fuuuucked…

Giani:  I ain’t afraid of some five and a half foot retard or a magician who wears more make up than you.  Putting them in the place of some wannabe Giani Di Luca, who could use a serious spray tan, don’t bother me at all.  Especially when I get to team with James.

Spike:  You don’t get to be a World Champion by being so easy to beat.  Look at me.  I mean, God knows I am no easy feat.

Giani takes this time to laugh in Spike’s face.  He holds onto his stomach, slamming his big fist against the table as he tries to get a hold of himself.  He takes a deep breath, but can’t help erupting into a second round of laughter.  Spike taps on the glass to get Giani’s attention, but Giani doesn’t afford him the luxury.

Giani:  You… you ain’t makin’ ya case, bro!  If I really wanted to, I could take ya out.  Easy.

Spike:  Then why haven’t you?  The truth is, when I approached you to join New X-Tremes, I saw a lot of raw potential in you.  If trained long enough, you might have been able to.  But don’t think for a second that you could take me out the way you are going right now.  You are lazy, unfocused, distracted, and still new to the game.

Giani:  I was an undefeated Empire State Champion in BACW ‘til I jumped over to Sin City.  I lost the belt as a formality, or else I would still own that belt.  I just saw myself gettin’ passed up so that you could run the Men’s Division.  They knew I was too good for the Roulette title, so they kept me back for you.  Why am I even havin’ this conversation with a mirror like a crazy ass fool like you?

Spike closes his eyes, rubbing his temples in frustration.  Giani seems satisfied with himself as he watches Spike stressing out in the mirror.  Spike takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before clasping his hands together.

Spike:  The truth is that you are too fucking dense to see the reality of it, Giani.  You did great things in BACW considering you were a rookie, but you haven’t done anything but beat some punk who wanted to prove a point, and then pissed off the second you beat him.  That hardly makes you worthy of being put into the Heavyweight title run.  When we were still working together, I told you what you had to do, and you were too lazy or too scared to go out there on your own.  You proved it by joining up with my uncle.  You traded one Staggs for another.  Other than trying a little harder to piss people off, you still haven’t done a damn thing, and you know I’m right or else I wouldn’t be saying this.  I am in your head after all…

This makes Giani think a little harder about things.  As much as he wants to tell his conscience that he is the best in the world, he knows that he has some room to improve.  “Spike” nods his head, letting Giani know that he sees this doubt.  Giani snaps his head back, looking up at the mirror.

Giani:  I don’t care what ya say, bro.  Even if there might be some truth to it, I ain’t gonna sit back and let this kill my swag.  I’m gonna go out there on Sunday, and I’m gonna prove that I got what it takes to be the best in this company.  If by that time you are still champion, then we can work out our beef with that belt on the line.  If not, then I’m gonna be in your spot soon enough.  I’m sure that beatin’ two “World Champions” will earn me some cred in this business and in this company.  I will go out there next week and I will fight with James and whoever Erik’s got lined up, and I’m gonna give it everything I got.  I’m gonna make my real return this week, and ain’t nobody gonna stop me.  Not Despayre and his teddy bear.  Not Gabriel and his little magic tricks.  Not Thatcher Rex with his, I don’t know, dusty dinosaur ass?

”Spike”:  Weak, bro.  So weak.

Giani:  Shut it!  You ain’t even real.  You couldn’t be bothered to show up for ya fans or ya team of idiotic, hypocritical loyalists.  All of my opponents are on ya side, so beating them ain’t gonna be as hard as ya think.  Team SCW thinks we are B-list worthless pieces of shit, so they are already at a disadvantage.  They all gonna learn when they see our arms raised up in the air.  All of you.

Spike starts to speak up, but Giani doesn’t give him the chance.  He begins washing off the paint as quickly as he can.  With each swipe of the rag, Spike’s face starts to fade from his line of vision.  Giani gets his face completely cleaned off, staring himself in the mirror as he starts to calm down.  After a deep breath, he turns around toward the showers as we fade out.

{I got my speakers on, speakers on, speakers on, speakers on, speakers on… I got my speakers on wrecked!}

{fin}