MD 150 - Triple X versus Mikey Stormrage

Mikey Stormrage


Is he my biggest challenge yet? I’d be remiss to view him any differently than that, if I’m honest.


Former Tag Team Champion, more than once, former Eurasian Champion……and of course, former World Heavyweight Champion. Belts held by multiple hall of famers and legends of the industry of professional wrestling. And, in truth, Mikey Stormrage deserves to be in such company.


More than that; he had been one of a very few people I'd come to know as a friend, both in wrestling and, more specifically, WZCW. Its been some time since we spoke, but his Lottery appearance had been a genuine shock.


More than that, his part in my elimination felt like it ripped my soul out. Not because it was him necessarily. But just because he'd ended my chances of becoming the number one contender. Something I've worked towards since returning.


I honestly can’t help but wonder…..is this all a step too far for me?​

‘Ladies and gentleman, we will be touching down at Charles de Gaulle airport in about ten minutes. Please take the time to make sure your seatbelts are fastened and that your tray-tables are returned to their upright position-‘

‘About time.’

Triple X opened his eyes and turned to Talia. Even on a flight that had lasted nearly seven and a half hours, she still managed to look more beautiful than he could find the words to describe.

‘What time will it even be in Paris?’

‘About 5:45 I think.’

‘Geez. Good think I don’t suffer with jet lag.’

She turned to face him, but he was looking out of the window. The majority of the flight all that could be seen was the vastness of the ocean, but finally, near journeys end, they were now above France. The host country of Meltdown 150 in a few days time. And yet, it wasn’t the beauty of the country below that captivated his attention. No, she could tell by his body language; it was something else.

‘You okay, Xander?’

He paused for a moment before reacting. ‘Sorry yeah, just…just taking in the view.’

‘Babe, I know you well enough to know when somethings horseshit. I’ll give you a pass but you tell me what’s up.’

X smiled. ‘No fooling you, is there?’

He sighed and stretched his arms up high. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. I’m just thinking ahead to Meltdown. And reflecting on a few things.’

‘You’re worried about facing Mikey?’

He turned and shot her a look of annoyance.

‘Okay fine, not worried about that then…’

‘Being in wrestling; I’ve only ever had a handful of people I’d consider close friends. Red is one of them. And there’s a few more, but, honestly they’re few and far between. Mikey was someone who I always thought was genuine, and I rated highly as a person. In WZCW, whether I did it a lot or not, I always knew he was someone who I could go to.’

‘And now…you don’t see it that way.’

‘That’s just it. Mikey…..hasn’t changed. He’s the same guy I’ve known since I first came in here and yet…now I feel disdain for that genuineness. For the person he is. And there isn’t anything different about him to warrant that feeling. Yet I still feel it.’

X looked back to the window, the darkness of the night giving way to the morning sun over the foreign land of France.

‘It’s something I don’t recognise.’

THE NEXT DAY​

‘Merci.’ Talia handed over her Euro’s in exchange for the bottled drinks, and headed out into the Parisian sunshine. Xander was sat on a wall next to the shop, staring into his phone.

‘Here.’ She threw the bottle to him, almost knocking him off the wall with surprise. He took one look at it and sighed.

‘Diet?’

‘It’s all they had.’

‘Lame.’

He took a swig and hopped off the wall. Talia drank form her bottle before taking her map out, searching for their location. ‘Straight down here, then if we follow it to the left, cross the bridge and keep going we should get there.'

‘Cool.’

They began walking through the sun-soaked French streets.

‘What did Andrey's message say?’

‘Just confirming what time I need to get to the arena. The man’s insistent that they go through him as my agent.’

‘Well, at least he cares.’

‘True. He keeps going on about my match with Lynx-‘

‘Well, it was a damn good match.’

‘You’d say that no matter what.’

‘Not true.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. You sucked when you debuted against Jack O’Lantern-‘

‘Oh, OH! You’re really going to invoke Jack O’Lantern??’

‘Yep. Yes I am.’ She laughed and slapped his arm. ‘But you should be proud of it. It was a good performance, and you avenged one of your toughest losses since you came back.’

She was right, Xander thought. Ever since he’d been back, Lynx had been the only person he’d not been able to put away in some way, shape or form. Hell, he’d beaten John Constantine and even had a winning record against Titus. But now he’d avenged his other main loss and, even he had to admit, it felt really good.

‘One more step on the path.’

Talia stayed silent for a moment, before tentatively saying ‘You should be really proud of what you’ve achieved since you came back, X. I mean it. You’ve managed to slot right back in where not many people would have been able to. That says a lot about you and your abilities in that ring.’

‘Doesn’t say anything if there isn’t a belt involved.’

‘Xander, you’ll get there.’

‘I should already be there.’

‘I know, I know. Just don’t rush your life away, that’s all.’

‘I’m not. I’m lamenting what should already be mine-’

X stopped for a moment, looking at Talia. ‘What do you mean, rushing your life away?’

‘I just think that you have an opportunity to do so much that you don’t want to push everything into one pocket.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Just…..look, since you’ve been back you’ve been focused on that World Title. And your chance was at the Lottery, and you got eliminated.’ Talia could slowly start to see the vein on Triple X’s head begin to bulge with anger. ‘…which was unfair, and shouldn’t have happened, sure. But you don’t have the shot you feel you deserve. So, why not regroup and look for something else? There’s more than one Championship in WZCW-‘

‘-yeah, and none of them mean a damn thing in comparison.’ X walked a few steps onto a bridge nearby, looking over onto the river in the middle of Paris. ‘You don’t think I’ve earned it yet, do you?’

Talia took a moment, before approaching him. ‘You earned it when you faced Ricky Runn and Ty Burna. You’d even earned it when they threw you into the Hell in a Cell at the last minute, and had you not already wrestled that night, things may be very different. But all of that…was four years ago.’

‘And since I’ve been back I’ve proven to everyone that I am better than anyone they put in front of me.’

‘Then can I ask you a question without getting mad?’

X took a breath, realising how worked up on the subject he was getting. ‘Sure.’

‘Then how come you aren’t both the Eurasian Champion, and the number one contender for Kingdom Come?’

Xander looked out onto the river for a moment, before smiling and looking down.

‘Ask yourself Xander. Cut through all the bitterness and ask yourself. Why do you think you deserve a title shot?’

He looked her in the eye, touching her face, before kissing her.

‘What was that for?’

‘Lending me perspective. And grounding me.’ He put his arm around her. ‘Come on, lets keep moving.’

. . . . . . . .​

The Notre Dame de Paris. A cathedral that had stood in France since the mid 1300’s; it towered over everything in the surrounding area with it’s gothic design and its classic design. Xander looked up at it in awe, having never seen anything quite like it.

They went inside, each being handed a candle. Each set of columns had lights in between, softly adding to the natural light that the stained glass windows were letting through. The stone walls themselves had carvings and statues built in. The room itself was packed; what must have been hundreds of people were seated, as down near the front, a man sat at what looked to be an ancient Organ, preparing to play.

‘This is really something, isn’t it?’

‘Sure is.’ Xander smiled.

Talia grabbed his arm. ‘I’m sorry for what I said before.’


‘You were right.’ He looked down to her and smiled. ‘I can’t look too far back and think I’ve automatically earned my shot. Even when I have beaten some top-tier quality. I need to look forward. Look more at what I can do to earn it.’

The organ started to play, as X looked at the candle he was handed. Where they had walked to, people had lit their candles in a symbolic gesture pertaining to people making wishes. ‘You want to know why I obsess over the World Championship? Why I feel like I deserve it?’ He looked back up at her. ‘Because no-one else sees what I see when they look out at the audience. Those people don’t appreciate the person who holds that championship; all they see is the title, not the person holding it. They don’t appreciate anyone.’ X took a box of matches that were placed to the side of the candles, and lit his own. ‘They don’t deserve a World Champion, let alone one they can manipulate.’

‘You want it…so they don’t have their favorites holding it.’

X smiled. ‘I want it, so it has someone worthy, who isn’t strung along by the hordes of leeches as I once was, holding it up high.’

X looked down at the flame on his candle, as he set it down. Talia took the matches out of X’s hand, staring at her own unlit candle. ‘It’s a shame that Mikey Stormrage has to be in your way. But he made his choice when he caused you to be eliminated at the Lottery. If he didn't rake your eyes and left you vulnerable for attack by Matt Tastic…who knows what might have happened.’

‘Can’t live in maybe’s, Tal. You taught me that.’

‘But still, you can at least avenge that in some manner here.’ She lit her candle. ‘And continue on.’

She placed it down, walking back to Xander and putting her arm around his waist.

‘I realised what had changed. When thinking of Mikey Stormrage. I wish that he’d seen what I’ve seen and realised these people have played him for a fool for all of his career but, poor Mikey needs their cheers for validation. That’s the change. Not in him though; in me. I realised that I didn’t need it, and unlike most, my hatred, my disdain for him isn’t through hating them playing up to the crowd…’

‘…it’s that you wish he could see past them.’

Xander and Talia looked at both of their flames respectively.

‘If he doesn’t see past them-‘

‘-then he won’t get past me.’

 

Do you ever wish you were somebody else?

You are fat

You have a drinking problem

You can't keep a relationship

You are the weakest multi-time World Champ in history

I kept scribbling notes as the reporters around me spoke. Nearly every trip to Paris before this had been great. Excellent food, beautiful women, delicious wine, wondrous sights. This time though, it felt different, like something was off.

No one loves you

You are the worst sidekick

The Jason Todd of Robin's, but without the breakout role later as Red Hood

Fuck, that last one cut deep. No one hated Mikey Stormrage more than myself.

"Mr. Stormrage, the question?"

I shifted my glance upward, the interpreter that was translating the local media into English for me was giving me a look.

"I'm sorry, what was the question again?"

"How does it feel to be back in WZCW full time and be traveling the world again?"

I took a moment before I answered.

"Oh yeah, its great. You get to see places most never will, entertain crowds of thousands all over the globe. Super awesome feeling."

You are a liar

That one seemed too obvious, but I put it anyway.

The French media asked more questions, but my French was limited to ordering croissants and la petite mort. That reminded me.

You use sex to fill a void for companionship in your life

Fuck, my life sucked.

"What games are on your Summer playlist?"

"Battletoads."

You are a liar

Fuck, I already had that one. The crowd laughed and the reporters motioned toward the interpreter, urging him to get more out of me. He looked at me and forced a giggle.

"State of Decay Two, Vampyr, and Shaq Fu Two."

The confused looks on their faces lead me to believe the legend of Shaq Fu hadn't been told in France.

You aren't funny

I sort of stared off into space a bit, watching the clock on the wall as it ticked away. Each passing second another wasted moment. I heard one of the reporters mention 'Triple X' and my mind snapped back to attention. I looked at my interpreter, almost with an unhealthy anticipation. I was ready for this one, I had my answer all lined up, I had been thinking this one over for days. Finally he turned to me to speak.

"What do you remember about teaming with Triple X a few years back?"

Wait? That was the big question? We weren't even a team, we just got paired up on a European house show tour to be the big act before intermission. We maybe teamed up seven or eight times in total over the course of two weeks. This was their hard hitting question? This is how I was supposed to hype the first ever solo meeting between Triple X and Mikey Stormrage? I grabbed my pen.

No one cares about your opinion

"Mr. Stormrage?"

I exhaled.

"You know what I remember? I remember when Triple X was the next big thing in WZCW and Mikey Stormrage was just some fat chump who used James Howard to get some decent tag team wins. I remember when management decided we would be a fun act for the fans, to amp them up before intermission so they would rush to the merchandise and concession stands. I remember standing behind that curtain, debating what sort of crazy flip X could pull off that night or how far into the crowd I could throw a guy, because WZCW brass didn't even think enough of us to pair us against actual WZCW talent. They hired local tag teams to step in against us. No, we weren't good enough to wrestle a Steven Holmes or Blade or Black Dragon. Hell, we weren't even good enough to wrestle Johnny Scumm, or Mick Overlast, or Stevenson Marquel. No we had to wrestle guys off the streets who didn't even get entrance music and wore plain black trunks. Each night, after our match, we would just leave and head to whatever pub we could find. Management didn't even care enough about us to make sure we stayed the whole show. We would get the pin, slap some fives, pose for a couple pictures along the barricade, change, and hop in X's rental. Of course he didn't drink, straight edge and all, so he always drove, but we just up and left. Go grab a burger and a beer, or a Pepsi for X, then dick around in whatever city we were in until curfew. Oh, those same agents who were supposed to make sure we didn't leave the arena early made damn sure we weren't out too late. Curfew applied to us, but the big stars, they stayed out all night. We bonded over the disrespect from the suits in Las Vegas and the appreciation from the fans. Everyone who wanted an autograph who saw us out, they got it. You wanted a picture, you got a whole camera roll. Wanted to wave and say hey, we acknowledged you back. People may have been paying money to see Titus or Constantine or Barbosa main event a show, but you bet your ass the fans left happiest because of us. It's why it pisses me off that X thinks the fans are to blame for him being held back. The same fans that drove us to work harder than the entire roster. The same fans that made those tours memorable. The same fans that are the lifeblood of WZCW, and he turns his back on them. Could you be anymore fucking cliche X?"

The crowd let out a gasp, they may not have spoke English but they spoke swear words. The interpreter told me to watch the language and tried to move me to a new topic.

"And this mother fucker wants to act like his life is so hard. I haven't met anyone not named Mikey Stormrage who fucks himself over harder with his shitty attitude. He has a girlfriend who supports him without question. He has an agent who sticks by him through all the negative PR he brings himself. Despite the played out dark and brooding act he likes to put on, the fans still want to cheer him. He is insanely fucking wealthy. Yet he wants to run around and play the victim, when in reality he is everything he claims to be against. He is John Lennon advocating for giving peace a chance and then voicing support for the IRA. He is Henry David Thoreau praising being an isolationist and advocating environmentalism, then burning down half a forest and going into town for his mom to do his laundry. Look that shit up if you don't believe me. He is Scott Summers wanting Mutants to have equal rights and be treated fairly, then refusing to accept Captain America's olive branch after AvX. Triple X is a hypocrite and the only one who doesn't realize it.

The assembled crowd was pretty shocked, they knew enough of those words and could read my body language and tell from the tone of my voice I was on some shit. My interpreter tries to move onto something else.

"No, you tell them word for word exactly what I just said. I want everyone in America, everyone in France, everyone across the globe, to know the truth about Triple X."

He looked uneasy, stumbled a lot at first, but eventually he got the words out.

You are an asshole

You are a major asshole

You are a giant fucking asshole and this is why no one can stand to be around you for more than ten minutes without being a drunk star fucker

That last one seemed better. I looked over, ready for a new questions, when someone new in a suit stepped onto the stage. He was followed by a fairly well built man in a tight fitting polo, he was clearly some sort of security. He ushered the interpreter and myself off the stage. The man in the suit uttered something in French, likely some sort of apology. The security guard was rather pushy with me, odd considering I had a couple of inches and at least a hundred pounds on him. He took us away from the media area, the man in the suit soon followed.

"Do you have any idea how off the rails you just went? This was supposed to be a softball fluff interview designed to generate the company some good press, and you go on an expletive filled rant against one of WZCW's brightest up and comers, just because you feel like he has an attitude issue. The fans respond to him, he is marketable, he has a unique look. He has the ability to go far in this business if..."

"If what? If the machine pushes him? If he gets just one more chance? If he learns to play by the rules? If he gets just another last chance? If he puts on a mask and hood and fights crime at night? If he continues to play up how shitty his life is and how awful his existence can be? If he just gets one more last chance for real? How many times can you fail and still get the handouts that he gets?"

"Given your own history, you think you would be more accepting of those given multiple chances."

"I may have gotten more than my share of chances to succeed in this company, but I did everything that was asked of me and I never made it a point to complain. I went to the ring, night in and night out, no matter what was going on in the outside world. When I stepped in that twenty by twenty square, the world outside just disappeared and I did my job. I wrestled anyone put in front of me, I suffered through some of the most inconsistent booking of my time, I was dragged down by awful opponents and even worse partners. I wrestled a match with Derek fucking Jacobs as a tag partner and didn't raise a fuss! I may have been a shit champion every time I had gold around my waist, but I never gave up on the fans. I never walked out of the company in anger. I never quit without notice. I never filed complaints when people liked my opponent better than me. I never pissed and moaned my way to the top. I never caught a lucky break that shot me to the top of the ladder. I scratched and clawed my way week in and week out, slowly gaining ground on nothing but my own determination. I was a joke when I walked through those doors to sign my first contract. I was the man who was the weak link in tag teams. I was the constant underachiever when I set out on my own. I was the paper champion. I was the fluke. I'm still a goddamned joke, I know it. I shill for a fast food company that doesn't pay me a dime, I reference memes that are two years old, I make jokes about subjects that aren't funny anymore. Despite that, I never fucked off to enjoy my millions because I got upset. I worked hurt, it took a fucking broken back and the fear of never walking again to drive me to the sidelines. Was I ever praised for my longevity? Was I ever viewed as a key player in this company? Did they even punish the man who put me on the shelf? For fuck sake, when Justin Cooper had you all fooled with his little 'I'm a changed man' routine, I didn't let the wool be pulled over my eyes. I never asked for vindication, I never asked for one more shot at him, even though he took the coward's way out before I got a chance. All I wanted was to come back to WZCW, to come back to my home, the only place I ever felt like I fit in. I would bust my ass in any spot you give me, but I'm a two time World Champion doing media work in a fucking Best Western conference room, while others get to go out and do interviews in front of the Eiffel Tower or inside The Louvre or The Bastille Opera House. Why can't I get media time at Le Chateaubriand, I clearly like to eat? We could go to the Experimental Cocktail Club for an interview, I like to drink. I'd even settle for that New York inspired bar in all the tourist pamphlets!"

"We will make sure that you get a better spot when we make media appointments in Newcastle, but you are on thin fucking ice. You pull another stunt like this and there will be consequences."

I looked down and smiled at the man, who was at least eight solid inches shorter than me, and patted him gently on the head. I reached down into my pocket and grabbed my notepad.

You know how to get shit done.