Post by Jesse Jamester on Sept 24, 2021 0:17:20 GMT -5
Ontario, Canada
Days following NPW Honor ending; after the attack by Spike Kane on Jesse Jamester’s son Julius, we are in Campbellford Memorial Hospital in Ontario, Canada.
Standing bedside, Jesse looks over his son laying there wearing a neck brace, tubes down his throat and an IV in his arm. The sight was grim. While doctors were confident Julius would recover, it was a painful experience Jesse wished his son didn’t have to go through.
Spike’s attack was a message, loud and clear. Spike wanted chaos & destruction. By provoking Jesse using his family. In doing so he would open Pandora’s box of horrors for harming his kin.
Walking out of the room, Jesse’s face told the story. A father’s revenge was nothing to shake off. His long brunette muddied black hair overflowing over his shoulders, a gnarly beard on his face, and the sapphire eyes staring a hole through every door he passed through.
Jesse was tranced, in his own head as he finally stepped outside the front hospital doors and onto the sidewalk.
New cameras from XHF headquarters and Ontario’s channel 4 were on waiting with film ready to roll, the boom stick microphones shoved into Jesse Jamester’s face.
“Spike’s a fuckin’ dead man! He took my son out by nearly crushing his windpipe! Spike Kane has signed his own death certificate! Spike, if you think you're walking away from the XHF Birthday Bash in anything less than a body bag you’re in denial - so here’s the reality check!
Wicked comes the revenge of a father for his son. Wrath’s knockin’ on the door Spike!
What you call a God I call a punk ass attempt at finding relevance again!
You coward, thinking this was going to do anything but motivate me! You made it obvious Spike -- You see me as a threat!
Why go through the trouble of mixing it up with Dylan Black and myself, if not to eliminate the competition from the X*Crown division? It’s a smart move… but poorly executed. You should’ve taken me out when you had the chance at Call to Arms.
But Dylan beat you with a bat.
Then he got me.
No Dilly, I didn’t forget that.
Spike -- You talk of me making mistakes because of emotions. I’m not angry any more Spike. ’m far past angry-- I left angry on I-79 in a ditch off the road with the rest of empathy I have for this world a long fucking time ago!
All Spike did was unleash the chains.
Instead of giving a fuck what I did to you because of the repercussions, the XHF gave me a match that I could do whatever my imagination can think of…
That’s a dangerous thought Spike.
To allow me every means to your end, and to pay me for it… It’s about fuckin’ time someone read my resume and realized the gold mine they were sitting on.
All this time I have spent here in the XHF as a part of the Northern Pro roster. I have played by their rules.
This deathmatch has no rules Spike.
If I shred your forehead like a cheese grater...
If I wrap you in barbed wire and play human pinata with you…
If I treat you like a human pin cushion and slam you on a bed of nails…
If I light your ass on fire….
All legal.
You underestimate your opponent Spike.
You underestimated the malicious intent I have been harboring for over a decade!
Like a coward does, Spike hypes himself up to be something he’s not.
I don’t give a fuck where you’re from, what you’ve done, or who you’ve beat Spike Kane. You have never stood in a ring with a cerebral mind like mine.
My words will paint the picture. My actions will tell the story.
Dylan Black made an offer. Take out Spike together. Then we can focus on one another. Finally, it will be mono-y-mono, like I’ve always wanted. Dylan knows what that means. This is the young lion versus the old lion, but with some half inbred hyena that Mongo decided deserved some attention. Nothing more than sizzle before the real fire Spike. A cunt hair of a cockroach that somehow found his way under the door and into my life.
I don’t care for bugs, nor men who claim they are the God of Extreme. Pfft...
Spike is another flavor of forgotten violence that the XHF was built on. He’s that mix of gore and guts without any brains. Spike thinks of himself as some higher power. Spike, your amatuer hour with a chair on stage wasn’t even a two on my scale of violence. Dylan’s got you with a four with his bat and that’s because he knows how to make a statement - go straight to the source!
You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into Spike. Dylan Black and I -- on the same page! For however long that holds up - it’s still longer than you’ll hold up from the ping ponging of your head and every item I can wrap in barbed wire from here to the GUNS arena!
Where this goes, you can rest assured, it’ll pale in comparison to the Hell you came from. Mark my words Spike, I’ll make Satan’s worst nightmares look like a daydream before GUNS XHF Birthday Bash is over!”
Walking right through the thick of the reporters and camera crew, Jesse Jamester heads across the parking lot and out of view. Not one of the reporters dared to approach him after his words he spoke about Spike Kane this evening.
Calgary, Alberta
3 days later.
Panning up from a dirt pile, we see the front barn doors open, and the black mouth of the barn looking ominous. A sizzle noise is heard before the lights wake up, and like a neon bar sign, the letters XHF appear above the barn doors, wrapped in barbed wire and Christmas lights.
From behind the camera a noise is heard, before the back of Jesse Jamester walks past. The view of his dirty boots and black stained jeans flicker, as the video does a static transition into the barn itself.
There we see Jesse Jamester push a saw table on wheels out of the way, uncovering a hidden floor door. He takes a wooden slat out, and then grabs a handle, lifting it open to reveal a set of steps that go into a basement.
Static… the video cuts out.
Machinery begins running, the noise was like a motor and a chain that was off the timing belt. Repeating a cch-cch-CHNK as it rotated around. Growing louder and louder, but the video was still static.
Finally a view appears and we see the Canadian Nightmare in full gear, with his back to the camera. Holding an extension cord, Jesse plugs it in, but this is out of view. Just as he does the room lights up with the same decorative theme as the XHF sign outside, barbed wire and Christmas lights. However, hanging from the walls, the ceiling, and littering the floor - was barbed wire weapons.
Turning to his side, the thorned shoulder spikes glimmered under the Christmas lights as his black scaly mask showed just the bearded mouth. The sight was like watching a demon lizard who had just brewed the perfect plan for world domination. Licking his lips, ever so slightly shifting his chin, he looked up.
“When I made my first appearance back in 2020, some of the die-hards called it the return of the dead. Their warrior had finally risen. The prized prince of pain had finally come home… (inhales deeply) I felt the connection, that feeling of the fans -- god it felt great! I knew then, what I'd known my whole life - and that is I am born to be doing this. See, I have always wanted to be a wrestler, not just act like one. I knew a long time ago, before I ever dropped out of school, before I ever had children, this was the path for me. It felt so right, I couldn't leave it, I couldn't imagine doing anything else!"
Stepping aside, Jesse grabbed the end of a singapore cane wrapped in barbed wire hanging to his right.
“Yet I knew nostalgia is a bitch, that given too much credence can be a weakness for an old mind. I saw that the man I was famously known for, would need to evolve to carve out his spot in today’s world. I knew the hardcore fanatics, they wished for that ruthless son of a bitch to make his claim somewhere in Japan. I did not. Instead I chose to stay loyal to my home country... Northern Pro.”
Holding the cane up to his face, Jesse petted it like an animal.
“While Spike was in the ass crack of Hell and Dylan Black was defending his X*Crown Championship, I was molding my new journey to be one of the most dominant men in Canada. Skip ahead some months of carrying the Syndicate on my back, and somebody gets me riled up to join the XHF Rumble…”
Letting the cane slide from his hands, Jesse turns to face the camera. His right arm that was not exposed is wrapped in tape from wrist to shoulder.
“Dylan Black. You were that man. You were the pinnacle of professional wrestling in this world. I watched you take men like Eric Dane and break them down, limb by limb. I saw the meticulous surgeon that you were in that ring, and I knew… I needed to face you. Of all the people I had been studying, you were the total package. What’s that old saying Dylan, you gotta beat’em to be’em, or you die tryin’?”
Pulling a small bench up, Jesse sits down in front of the camera, so his face is nearly the only thing you can see. In the background, you hear metal being clipped, as Jesse’s mask adjusts slightly so only the left side is seen.
“Once I knew that the Rumble would afford me the opportunity to take something you deemed the holy grail, I signed up. If I could take that X*Crown, I knew, I’d get to face “The Messiah” Dylan Black. Ah, but the world doesn’t give us what we want Dylan -- we have to take it. Just as it did for you, when you lost the X*Crown. Maybe it was distraction? Maybe the tour of Dylan Black was finally over? Maybe, when you took that loss to Adrien Cochrane, you lost some of that spring in your step… On any given Sunday Dylan, it can happen to the best of’em.”
Leaning back just a bit, we see Jesse’s chest and neck area, but the right arm is still out of view.
“While I’ve pondered the ways I would break you down; dissecting your arsenal of moves, tripping you up and toying with you in my ring… I got the gift that keeps on giving when I was granted this triple threat match. Now we get to dance with all the dangers, like real warriors, leaving it all on the battlefield.”
Turning from the bench, Jesse stands up and kicks the bench out of frame. Turning to face the camera, he exposes the barbed wire wrapped around his taped right arm. Lifting it up, his taped hand held the end of a piece, as it weaved its way around his fist multiple times.
“Dylan Black and Spike Kane have the laundry list of accolades to prove themselves to be the threats they claim. A Messiah and a God of Extreme. Here you have a warrior, a nightmare, a mayor of madness… (laughs briefly) I’m not making this shit up as I go Spike, it’s not my funeral I’m attending this XHF Birthday. No, I promise the both of you, you’ll witness a whole different animal on July 9th. This far exceeds the boundaries of respect for your peers. This is a match with a license to kill, and I’ve had a lot of shit on my back I’ve been waiting to get off.”
Snatching a violin wrapped in barbed wire from the wall, Jesse turned and struck a cord, seeing the strings bust after just one swipe.
“When the music stops, the violence will be all that will be remembered. No Gods, no Messiahs, no Nightmares, just violence. As far as I see it, the X*Crown championship may not be on the line, but the pride of three men, that has no price that can be measured in gold. We are the symbolism of excellence in that ring, and come June 9th, I’m going to prove I’m the King of Violence personified in the XHF!”
The camera pans out, showing the full room, which has a piano also wrapped in barbed wire, a motorcycle that looks to have been made for an apocalypse, and a sickle wrapped in barbed wire. Stepping on a button, the room immediately bursts bright with flames appearing on everything that was wrapped in barbed wire.
