”As much as I hate to admit it… we’re too much alike. Don’t get me wrong, the differences are immense, but I see something inside of you that seems all too familiar. I just can’t seem to put a finger on it. It’s almost as if we are kindred spirits or something.”
{Sabotage}
I sit in this crappy basement in the middle of nowhere. He called it some sort of spiritual journey, but I think it’s some kinda sadistic form of torture. Only the elderly and meth addicts actually enjoy being in the Midwest. I mean, who travels to St. Louis, let alone the suburbs of this shitty town? It’s not even baseball season, and the choke artists known as the St. Louis Cardinals have already left this boring ass town, so there is literally nothin’ to do… There’s not even a television down here. I guess I’m supposed to be thinkin’ about… stuff? Fuck if I know. All I can do is watch the clock. I swear the fucker is laughin’ in my face. Why am I even here? I look around at this poor excuse for a finished basement. The carpet is stained from Kool Aid spills, and there is crayon drawings on the wall. God damn! I’ve gotta get outta here…
I stand up from the couch and walk over toward the stairs when I hear the sickening female groaning followed by the indistinct French bedroom talk from Vixen. I shake my head and realize I haven’t had any in like… two weeks?! I haven’t been so sexless since I was in middle school. This makes me want to track down the nearest club that isn’t overtaken by country music and douchebags in cowbow boots and trucker hats. I get to the top of the steps when I hear something bang into the basement door. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t a little bit surprised by it. I hear the loud groaning followed by some sick form of love makin’ that makes my stomach churn a bit. I fight the urge to puke as I tip toe down the steps. I collapse back on the couch and pout, wishing I had tried to make a run for it fifteen minutes sooner.
“It’s okay, bro. You could always climb out the window er somethin’.”
Who said that? I remove my hands from my face in frustration. I look over to my left to see… me, with the SCW Tag Team Championship draped over my shoulder. Me’s got a grin on his face from side to side, and I gotta admit, he’s lookin’ pretty damn fresh right about now in those white sneakers and skinny jeans. Those sunglasses is overdoin’ it a bit though. I just roll my eyes, wishing I could at least blame this on some drinks or somethin’.
Present: Seriously, bro? It’s kinda too late to try changin’ my mind like that, dawg.
Past: Yo, kid… I’m sittin’ here tryin’ to figure out why you would think that I care. Ya lookin’ at ya prime, dawg. This is as good as it gets. If ya wanna leave me, go ahead.
Present: Hahaha! You… you can’t be serious. I’m already doin’ better than you. I’m the Number One Contender to a title that people actually care about. That’s like ten steps ahead of those worthless titles.
Past me lifts his sunglasses up, laughing silently, slapping his knee to rub it in a bit more. This act goes on for a minute before he looks right into my eyes, gasping for air as he shakes his head.
Past: Ya… ya kiddin’ right? At least when you was a Tag Team Champion, people actually gave a shit about Sin City Wrestlin’. Now? Nobody gives a shit. The second “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward fired Drake Green for like no reason, everyone stopped watchin’. I mean, they lost their favorite star, and the title went from someone respectable to… Hahahahaha…. Goth…
I suck in my upper lip, biting on it in protest, but it is also an attempt at avoiding responding to the obvious truth. I take in a deep breath through my nostrils, shaking my head in disagreement.
Present: I guess I need to take that title off of Goth then. Give it some kinda meanin’. Then people will pay attention again. Most of the reason I won the Number One Contendership was cause I was driven by the idea of takin’ the title off of Drake Green. I will hafta settle for Goth, who I’ve already beaten like a hundred times.
Past: Dawg… You don’t get it. No one is gonna care. No one watches. SCW has taken some serious hits lately. Face it, this title…
Past me lifts the Sin City Wrestling Tag Team Championship belt from his shoulder, lettin’ me get a good look at it.
Past: … is the best it’s ever gonna get for ya. I mean, I’m an arrogant prick, and for me to admit that I hit the ceilin’ of my career is hard for me to do. Do ya really think I would do it if it wasn’t the truth?
Present: But…
Past: Don’t do this to ya’self, kiddo… Don’t set ya’self up for failure. Not again. You remember when ya did that right before ya joined NXT the first time? And don’t forget when you was preparing to face James Huntington-Hawkes the third. You got ya hopes up, and when ya failed, ya nearly lost ya shit, dawg. This company is dead as Thatcher Rex’s career.
Present: Don’t expect me to believe that shit. I can save SCW. I can make them all pay attention. They didn’t like you, but they’re startin’ to love me again. Even though I coulda taken that belt at any time I wanted, they’re gonna look at it like a true underdog story. It’s why I rejoined NXT. It’s why I’m seekin’ redemption. I have never once come close to my true potential, and I’m not gonna let some… some freakin’ douchebag like YOU tell me I’m not gonna ever get better! FUHGEDDABOUDIT!
I spit venom in past me’s face, tensing up as I try to intimidate him. He sits still, propping his sunglasses up on his forehead, grinning from ear to ear again. Of course my own worst enemy is me…
Past: When nobody in a company gives a flyin’ fuck about anythin’ other than themselves, the fans ain’t gonna pay attention no more. Not one piece of shit in Sin City Wrestlin’ cares about anythin’ beyond themselves. Maybe Jon Dough? But since when has one selfless person ever really changed anythin’?
Present: Then ya got me and Spike.
Past: Oh puh-lease! Do ya hear him upstairs? He said he was takin’ ya on a spiritual journey, but he just wanted to bone his fiancée without the rugrats gettin’ up in their biz-nass! Face it, best case scenario, ya wind up bein’ the last champion of this company. Worst case scenario, ya lose to Goth, again, and ya go out in embarrassment.
I just can’t accept either of these scenarios. There is no way I’m gonna let Goth get the better of me again. I’m not going to have a deadbeat partner draggin’ me down the next time we meet. I look at him with a newfound determination, fire in my eyes as I push the tag belt from my face.
Present: Even if I’m the only motherfucker in this company who cares about the place, even if it is minimal… I got enough talent and charisma to carry this place on my back. Ever since that title left Spike Staggs’ waist, it has been nothin’ but a disgrace. He was the last person to successfully defend the belt at least once before losin’ it or havin’ it stripped from him. It has been disappointment after disappointment, and THAT is why he company is in bad shape. Once I get my hands on that belt, I’m gonna rival the longest reign in this company, maybe even better than Spike Staggs.
Past: Hahahahaha! Ya really expect me to believe that, bro? Dawg… Nick was right last week when he said you lost the one and only thing that made ya a somebody. Look at ya tryin’ to play a boy scout. If I knew I would turn into this after James cost us the belts, I woulda off’ed myself a couple months ago, for real… Ya nothin’ but a kiss ass to the fans, to Spike, and to anyone ya ever stepped over to get where ya are now. You just did what they woulda done to you, only ya got them first, bro. It’s all part of the game, but ya choose to feel bad about bein’ the smart one…
I finally see why people can’t stand me. I’m a real douchebag! It’s takin’ everythin’ in me NOT to send a big STFU message in the form of a bitch smack. I shake my head in frustration as I turn away from past me. I can’t stand the idea of what he’s saying could be right.
Present: I got somethin’ that every single champion over the last several months don’t have. Goth is a slacker who only puts it all out there when he wants to add another title to his repertoire. He don’t care about anythin’ but tryin’ to recapture his glory days… Kevin Carter was so fuckin’ full of himself, he got it in his head that there was some conspiracy against him that he went bat shit. Drake Green let him get inside of his head and fucked up his chances of bein’ worth a damn around here. Jordan Williams already had a foot out the door when he won the title, so he was just a flash in the pan here in SCW. Hell, even Nick Jones has lost his step. For someone who thought I was some punk ass kid from Jersey who wasn’t worth a damn, he sure as hell wasn’t hard to defeat…
As if it were some sort of inside joke between me and past me, I look over with a bit of a smirk and a wink. Past me is too vapid and self absorbed that he doesn’t seem to get it. I chuckle a bit under my breath as I roll my eyes.
Present: I don’t know what the point of my upcomin’ match is, cause Simon Jones is the worst of the bunch. He fought so hard to prove he was worth all the hype he earned by winning the Battle Royale several months ago. He truly was the underdog who shocked the world by beatin’ Jordan Williams. He earned respect around SCW, and they was proud to see him in the spotlight. But what happened? He got in the spotlight, and he froze. He got scared of the fame. For someone who is almost old enough to be my father, he wasn’t ready for the fame, and it showed immediately. He lost the Six Pack Challenge match at Summer Xxxtreme II, and then he realized he screwed up, and he tucked his tail and tried to run away. On his way out the door, he got smacked by Casey Williams, and that’s the only reason he’s still around. Deep down, only seen with a microscope, Simon’s got some balls, and he can’t let that ogre talk shit on how Casey put him outta commission.
Past: That’s what I like to hear… Read that sonuvabitch like a text book, bro…
Present: I’m sorry. It just don’t get why they thought it was a good idea to put me up against him. Especially when there is a small chance we could be stable mates soon. If I beat him, everyone’s gonna remember that I made Simon Jones my bitch, and they’re never gonna take him seriously. Then, I’m gonna have to apologize to him for ruinin’ his career… Maybe they thought it would make me look better by gettin’ an easy win over Simon again. I can’t say for sure, but there is one thing I know for a fact. I’m gonna whoop the shit outta Simon, but it’s gonna be strictly business. I’ll try not to disable him, cause I’m not gonna lie… I wanna see him whoop that bald ape to a pulp at December 2 Dismember.
I look over to past me, and I can’t help but realize that I’m starting to sound like him, the thing that I have been trying so hard to change. For a second, he seems to smile, knowing exactly what I’m feeling. He can sense my digression, and he is eating it up. He’s already won over me, and he knows it. I look away from him and to that damn Kool Aid spot on the carpet, trying my best not to look at him.
Present: There’s a difference, ya know? At least I feel some remorse for havin’ to step over someone to build momentum.
Past: It’s a weakness, dawg… You’re gonna fail with an attitude like that.
Present: Then let me fail with dignity…
I close my eyes for a second, feeling another set of eyes resting on me. I look over to my right, toward the basement steps to see Spike Staggs standing there in a pair of torn black jeans with frayed plaid patches randomly placed on them, and his NXT graffiti tee. I try to hide the results of my daydream, but the beginnings of a smile forming on his face let me know that he has an idea.
Spike: Seems like you really have changed?
Me: Yeah, I guess so, but how did ya know?
Spike chuckles as he comes over to my left side, sitting on top of past me, crushing him while making his disappear in an instant. He puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a couple pats.
Spike: It was hard not to hear you down here, shouting like a madman. Vixen said I should have come down sooner, but I thought you needed that… I needed to hear that. All of my doubts are gone now.
Me: That makes one of us, dawg… I can’t lie, I still wonder how much I actually changed, but all I can do is what I think is right, and this feels right.
Spike smirks, nodding his head as he takes a deep breath. As if looking at some invisible watch on his wrist, he looks over to me with a wary expression on his face.
Spike: I’m sure you know I’m a bit worn out right about now… Besides, we have a flight to catch tomorrow. Hollywood awaits…
I nod my head, giving a complimentary stretch and a yawn. Spike gets up from the couch and starts to walk off. I reach to the side of the couch and pick up a few pillows and a blanket at once. I pull them to the arm of the couch, and as soon as the pillows leave my grip, Spike grabs onto my hand. He gives me one single look, but it says a millions things. I can see his pride, his own sense of belonging, and genuine happiness. He gives my hand a solid shake before letting go. He walks to the stairs, looking back at me once more as I begin setting up my “bed” for the night.
”I can see all the ways I went wrong in my career… in my life… I see an opportunity to make things right. As much as I doubted you, I feel like I owe it to all of those that I hurt in the past, to stop you from making the same mistakes that I made. I see the same monster that I still have to this day. I see it’s scaly wings fluttering in anticipation behind your eyes. I can hear the stirring and the scratching as it digs into your brain. Sometimes, I almost wonder if it’s worth controlling. I don’t mean to return to old ways… I mean… I wonder what would happen if we totally surrendered to it. It would be total anarchy. But then I realize that this would be surrendering our humanity. So I’ve made it my mission to help you keep it in check, but you have to want it too… Do you?”
{We R Who We R}
We focus in on Giani’s eyes, catching a glimpse of what seems like bat wings, fluttering around behind the milk chocolate pools of his irises. His pupils dilate slightly as we pan out just a bit to see his face. It’s true, he can feel the clawing, and it is starting to give him a headache. He holds onto the side of his head, shaking it off. We pan out further to see Giani in full wrestling gear. His wrists are taped as he jogs, keeping his arms at his side, tensing them up to slightly stretch the NXT arm band on his right arm. He is wearing black tights with the Italian flag printed on the back as well as the “Stallion” emblem on his crotch, with black knee pads and white boots. His body glistens with sweat from the work out he’s receiving at the hands on Spike Staggs, who has been sparring with him. Spike is wearing black track pants with red and white stripes on the side, along with a newer print of an NXT shirt. His pale skin is damp with sweat, and his faint “guy liner” is melting away from his eyes. Both men are inside of a four-sided ring with red ropes. The surrounding looks more like a boxing training room rather than a wrestling training room. There are two other rings, both of which are empty. Off to the side is a sparring body bag and a rusty weight bench. Giani seems to be soaking in the surrounding for the first time, even though he has been in this room for many hours.
Spike: *Ahem?* I said… Do you?
Giani snaps back to reality, blinking his eyes before looking directly at Spike, as if paying attention to him for the first time in a while. The words ring through the room, and through Giani’s ears as he shrugs his shoulders, scrunching his face up in confusion.
Giani: Do I what?
Spike: Do you pay attention, or are you just going to let someone… Simon… come up with a roll up that will embarrass you going into December II Dismember?
Giani shrugs his shoulders as if to apologize, but also to express his slight bewilderment by such a random question. Spike rolls his eyes, refusing to give up his defensive stance, although he does loosen up his muscles a bit.
Spike: Did you not hear a word I just said?
Giani: Yeah, yeah, yeah… pay attention to ya opponent. Got it, boss…
Spike: Jesus H. Christ, Giani… Do you want me to help you maintain and control your beast?
Giani pauses, giving Spike an almost fearful, defensive glare. He stops dead in his tracks, freezing as he emits a long “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” sound. He laughs nervously as he backs up a few paces, against the ropes.
Giani: I definitely don’t need ya to control my beast. I’m sure I can find someone who is less… uhhh… manly, to help me out in that department, yaknowhatimsayin? Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but…
Spike: What? No! You have a lot less boob than I tend to like, even if your wrestling skills are more suited for the Bombshell Division…
Giani’s eyebrows furl as he flicks his fingers under his chin and toward Spike. Spike sticks his tongue out in a playful sort of manner, psyching Giani out at the same time as he lunges forward, catching Giani in a headlock, bringing him down in a make-shift Crossface hold. Giani struggles as hard as he can to get out of it, but he seems to be having a bit of trouble with this.
Spike: You gonna cry like a little bitch, now? That should make you feel awfully confident going up against a former World caliber champion, as well as a former SCW Heavyweight champion.
Giani struggles a bit, prying at Spike’s tight grip under his nose. He doesn’t seem to have any luck with this method, so he turns his head slightly, bashing it straight into Spike’s bottom rib, getting a bit of leeway.
Giani: Gah! Yeah, ya just said it… FORMER is the key word there, bro. I already know I’m supposed to get that title and show the circuit that we don’t mess around in Sin City. The same way I’m… grrrrr…. supposed to go into the title match with all eyes on me. What better way to do that than to beat Simon?
Spike: For someone who thinks so highly of their skills, you sure need to brush up on them. There’s no way that you could defeat Simon with such sloppy techniques like this. If you’re just going to waste my time…
Giani: I’m… NOT!
Giani is able to pry Spike’s grip from under his nose, getting away as Spike swipes at him. He grabs onto the ropes, quickly pulling himself up to a standing position. He gathers himself quickly, putting his fists back up as Spike gets up to his feet. The two circle one another.
Giani: If ya didn’t get the point that I’m serious after I pinned Nick Jones, a man who has nearly beaten you a number of times by himself, then I dunno what to tell ya, Spike. I’m more focused on buildin’ steam against Goth by beatin’ Simon than I am on you. So sue me…
Spike: Simon and Goth are both men who are full of surprises. Plus, both men have been in the ring with you a time or two, so they know what you are expecting. Whose to say that they won’t tweak their styles to gain the upper hand? Simon won a contest that you competed in. Even if he didn’t eliminate you, he still won and you lost.
Giani darts to the side, catching Spike by surprise. He rolls behind him, bringing him over with a powerful German Suplex. Spike holds onto his back, wincing a bit in pain. Giani wraps his legs around Spike’s upper body, locking on the Body Scissors that seems to stretch Spike past his limits.
Giani: They’re full of surprises? I’M full of surprises, bro! I’ve learned so much in my two years of wrestlin’, and I’m always learnin’ more. The second someone thinks they figured me out, I can hit a Moonsault like a pro. I can make a season ring veteran like ya’self tap out with a Body Scissors. Then I can land a three hit combo that will earn a K.O. That’s just what I do. Nobody thought I would be the one goin’ on to face Goth at December II Dismember. Everyone thought Simon or Nick would be in my spot, but what did I do?
Spike wiggles around, trying to get free, but Giani’s thighs are locked on like a vice. Spike grunts as he tries to spin over, but Giani holds on tightly, stretching out Spike’s neck, which causes him to fall down on the mat, belly first.
Spike: I can’t tell a lie… you know how to wear down an opponent. But, you can’t just go into a match assuming that you’re going to win. The end result shouldn’t even be a factor. Figuring out how to break them down, piece by piece… that’s how you win matches.
Giani: I won the SCW Tag Team Championships with James by goin’ in and focusin’ on beatin’ the man I’m gonna beat for the Heavyweight belt. I told everyone I was gonna do it, and wait, what happened?
Spike: That’s not the point!
Giani: That’s exactly the point! Confidence! Aren’t ya supposed to be the teacher here? I kept my eyes on the prize, and I beat the very freak I’m gonna beat to get the SCW Heavyweight Championship. Goin’ into this match with Simon is just a way for me to warm up before I beat Goth. It is that simple.
While Giani is making his point, Spike finally flips Giani off of his back. He gets up, gaining some distance between them as he takes his turn to gather himself. He stumbles a bit as the long training session is starting to wear on the slightly rusty Spike. Giani gets to his feet, ready to take the offense once more.
Spike: Right there, you aren’t even focusing on Simon. You’re so worried about Goth that Simon could very well slide right past you, getting the victory. With a loss like that, it could very well effect you going into the Super Card, and I’m not sure three losses in a row would be very good for your self esteem. You might return to old ways…
Giani and Spike circle one another, fatigue showing on both of their faces. However, this seems more like a mental fatigue than anything. Giani takes in a shallow breath, wiping at his mouth before taking another very visible breath. Spike matches the breath, but remains a stone-like figure.
Giani: No matter what, I’m not returning to that life. Even if I do decide one day that I’m just an unapologetic asshole, at least I can say then that I’ve beaten the best this company has to offer.
Spike: So, you’re saying that you’re going to be a raging dick who actually deserves to have such a high opinion of yourself?
Giani nods, smirking at the thought before quickly shaking it away in shame. Spike gets a half smirk upon his face, letting out a chuckle. Spike looks up at the clock and sighs, pulling a white rag from his back pocket. He tosses it on the ground.
Spike: It looks like you won this one on a technicality. I think three straight hours of sparring is more than enough for today. I don’t want to wear you out too quickly. After all, you have to make it through tomorrow.
Giani sighs as he leans down to snatch the rag from the mat, holding it like a prized trophy. However, he seems a little nervous upon hearing Spike’s last words. He sighs and then leans against the turnbuckle, relaxing his body as much as he possibly can.
Giani: I thought you said tomorrow we was gonna hit up the clubs here in Hollywood…
Spike: I did… You are the “Italian Stallion”, are you not? And last I heard, you have been abstinent for two and a half weeks… Those starfuckers are going to sense that right away, and they’re going to eat you up like bitches on a raw steak…
Spike grins at Giani almost sadistically. Giani looks relieved by this news, even sparing a relieved laugh. He stuffs the rag under his arm as he leans under the top rope, preparing to exit the ring. He gets one leg on the apron before Spike grabs onto his shoulder. Giani stops just in time to see Vixen walk into the room, dressed in her street clothes of camouflage pants and an NXT babydoll tee. She stares at Giani suspiciously for a moment before Spike leans down, almost whispering into Giani’s ear.
Spike: One last thing… Don’t apologize for being the next big thing, and don’t apologize for being a beast. If these assholes can’t see that, then they deserve a rude awakening. If Simon wants to try to steal your thunder, then maybe he deserves a special kind of ass kicking…
Vixen catches just a fraction of what is said, but it is enough for her to get a sly grin on her face. Spike quickly exits the ring, coming beside her as they engage in a passionate kiss. These words resonate with Giani, making him think for a moment. He stays straddling the middle rope as Spike retires with Vixen to the door reading “Men’s Locker Room”. He seems a little unsettled by this bit of advice as we fade out.
{I got my speakers on WRECKED!}
”I never said to contain the beast, Giani… I said that you need to learn to control it. Make it work for you, rather than being a slave to it. You have so much potential, and the lot of Sin City Wrestling is going to see this, starting on Sunday when you take down Simon Jones…”
{fin}
