Re:
Chapter 7: Into the Spider’s Web
There are a few occasions in one’s life that cause you to take a moment and think about everything that brought you there. Your wedding day. The birth of a child. Standing across a wrestling ring from a sweaty psychopath with scars all over his face. For Showtime, this was the third one.
As pleased as he was with his performance in his round 2 match against Jace Gryphon, Showtime’s trainer and tag team partner Proteus noticed several cracks in his game that could be exposed by someone of Joey Melton’s experience and ability. It was time to get serious – at least, as serious as possible for two guys who one challenged an opposing team to a Chuck E. Cheese Ball Pit Death Match.
That’s what brought them to the Spider’s Web, a mostly-empty gym located in the middle of nowhere containing a few weight sets, a heavy bag, and a wrestling ring as well as all the worst bodily odors humanity has to offer. This facility is run by a former wrestler named Spider Murphy. At 6’3 and 250 lbs, Spider was one of the great “could have been” champions in wrestling’s recent history. His unforgiving, no-BS physical style allowed him to mow through competitors who were more technically skilled than he was. He wasn’t exactly a master of Greco-roman takedowns, but he made up for it with a genuine desire to beat his opponents into submission with his fists. His face was criss-crossed with scars, as were his calloused knuckles. He was legendary for the time he suplexed his opponent onto a porcupine.
“F—ker barely even got any quills in him,” Spider sneered, “But then there was the lawsuit from the ASPCA, an’ also people didn’t wanna work with me any more ‘cuz I’m dangerously unstable or whatever.” To hear Spider tell it, reckless endangerment of animals was just a step he was willing to take to succeed, one that other wrestlers didn’t take because they were “big wet pussies.” In any case, antics like that resulted in him being unofficially blackballed from wrestling: hence, “could have been champion.” Since then, he had opened up a school to properly train the next generation of deadly hoodlums. “Hey,” Spider said, “E’ryone wants to leave their mark on the world, right?”
Proteus had cooked up the idea that Spider could be Showtime’s new sparring partner. As proud as Showtime was of his in-ring arsenal, he was aware that as the tournament wore on, not only would he expose more of his tricks, but he would encounter tougher and tougher opponents. Nobody Showtime had faced in this entire tournament had the kind of credibility that Joey Melton brought, and he wasn’t about to be taken off guard. Proteus was hoping that he by finding a way to use his flashy, airborne offense against someone as violent and dangerous as Spider Murphy, he could prevent Showtime from creatively stagnating.
Showtime didn’t even know the sparring match had been set up when they arrived that morning, and he got in the ring with some reluctance. As eager as he was to remain at the top of his game, getting in there with someone like Spider Murphy meant risking his well-being. And usually, well-being is something you want when you’re about to have one of the toughest matches of your career.
As the two men warmed up in the ring, Proteus was asked by Penny Pickett, their reporter friend (and current chauffeur): “Why don’t
you just train with him?”
“Showtime and I have known each other for a long time,” Proteus answered, “We know each other like the back of a hand you’ve been punched by a lot. He needs to hone his abilities on someone whose every move he can’t anticipate.”
The sparring started innocently enough. Despite his reputation, Spider was a capable training partner. The two locked up, traded a few chain holds, got a feel for each other. Showtime took the opportunity to wipe the cobwebs away on some of his faster-paced opening moves, working Spider over in the corner with a few high kicks followed by a standing huracanrana. With Spider on the ground, Showtime came off the top rope with a split-legged moonsault. There was a referee in the ring to keep up the feel of a real match, and to count falls – in this case, a two.
The pair continued a while, with Showtime constantly pushing the tempo faster and faster in order to see how much he could outpace an opponent, how to cut off attempts to slow the momentum back down. He rebounded off the ropes with high kicks and flipped through back body drops to keep running. When Spider whipped him into the corner, he backflipped off the top turnbuckle to land behind Spider, transitioning quickly into a German suplex for a two count.
Back on his feet, Spider whipped Showtime, Showtime came back with a clothesline, which Spider ducked, catching Showtime on the rebound with a big spinebuster. As things progressed, Spider began to work more and more aggressively on his offence and Showtime found himself fighting him off with even more erratic counters and hasty split-second decisions on how to reverse a suplex into a neckbreaker.
Soon, Spider began to heap on the punishment, cutting Showtime off quicker and quicker on his reversals, grounding him and holding him in rear chin locks and targeting his joints with stomps. Showtime fought back with a few well-timed European uppercuts, but Spider stopped him cold by delivering his finishing move, the Black Widower double underhook DDT.
The referee counted: ONE...
TWO...
Showtime managed to get the shoulder up.
“What the hell is going on?” Penny said, “I thought they were just supposed to spar!”
“Hey, these are top-level wrestlers,” Proteus said, “You don’t get there without pushing yourself. Spider’s doing a good job testing Showtime’s limits.”
Spider rolled out of the ring, apparently frustrated. As Showtime propped himself up in the corner, Spider reached under the apron and pulled out an iron monkey wrench. He banged it against the ring post to hear a satisfying “
clangg!”
In the ring, Spider swung the wrench, but Showtime dodged and managed to kick Spider’s hand, knocking the wrench out of the ring.
“Hey, hey, hey,
what is going on here? ULTRATITLE isn’t no-DQ. I’m not gonna have to defend against someone trying to brain me with a friggin’ wrench!”
“You dips—t!” Spider snarled, “I don’t wanna be your f—king sparring partner. I should be the one out there kicking the crap outta Melton. I’d rather blow my brains out than let you wrestle that match.”
“First of all, cool it with the swearing,” Showtime said, “There’s a lady present. And she’s British. Second of all, I’m sorry you’re not in ULTRATITLE, but beating me to near-death isn’t going to change anything for you.”
“Thought you might say that. And maybe you’re right,” Spider said, “So I got a deal for you. You and me finish our match right here. I win, I take your place in ULTRATITLE, I get the shot at Joey Melton.”
“And what’s in it for me if I accept the challenge?”
At the entrance to the gym, two of Spider’s largest, most imposing students stepped in front of the doors, wielding baseball bats.
“You win? I let you leave,” Spider offered.
“Well... I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”
The two resumed wrestling. This time, there was no pretense of being a training exercise. The two traded furious blows, blocking and countering whenever possible. Showtime bounced off the ropes, using momentum and gravity, with a heavy dose of panache as always, but Spider Murphy was not playing around either. It was hard for Showtime to put him away long enough to deliver a top rope move like a moonsault or a missile dropkick. The powerful Spider could catch a Showtime crossbody and transform it into a walking backbreaker, before throwing him over his shoulders like a ragdoll for a Samoan drop.
Spider covered. Only a two count. He pulled Showtime up, pinning him into the corner with shoulder thrusts. Showtime leapt over with a sunset flip, but didn’t hold even go for the cover. He transitioned into a low dropkick, then went to the top rope.
Showtime came off the top rope with his finishing move, the corkscrew moonsault known as the Final Curtain... and Spider rolled out of the way.
Spider capitalized by stretching Showtime out with a surfboard. “I’ve been studying up, Show. All these years, I got even better at delivering punishment. Submit and it can all end. You go home and a real deserving champ takes yer place.”
“Eat... my.... shorts.” Showtime said.
Spider released the hold and continued to hold Showtime to the ground, delivering a series of heavy-handed punches. He turned Showtime’s mask sideways to obscure his vision, then held his shoulders down. ONE... TWO...
No, Showtime wriggled free. He escaped to the corner and fixed his mask. Spider rushed in after him, and Showtime tried to catch him off guard with his trademark superkick, the Standing Ovation – but Spider caught the leg, tripping Showtime, and swinging him around the ring with a giant swing.
“See... that’s yer problem,” Spider said to his fallen foe, “Yer a performer. All about the big moves. I saw that kick comin’ a mile away, an’ e’ryone who fights you knows it’s comin’ too. That’s why yer gonna lose. An’ this is why I’m gonna beat you. An’ Joey Melton too.”
Spider pulled Showtime to his feet and hooked his arms, preparing to deliver the Black Widower again.
But in a flash, Showtime reversed the positions of the arms and slipped around to go back-to-back with Spider, pinning his shoulders to the mat using that time-honored roll-up move: A
backslide. The ref counted:
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!
The two men both sat up. Spider’s face wore an expression of shock and anger. Showtime, under his mask, wore a grin.
Breathlessly, he said, “Did you like that? Came to me in a dream last night. Calling it the Spoiler Alert.”
“BULLS—T!” Spider cried out, pounding the mat. “You’d never try to win a f—king match with a roll up! You’re all about impressing the audience!”
“I did impress the audience,” Showtime said, gesturing to Proteus and Penny , who looked on in silent elation. “You’re bigger, tougher, meaner than me, and you had all my best moves scouted. And I
still got your shoulders to the mat for three count. My world is wide open, more than it’s ever been. Whatever Joey Melton is expecting to get from me, he’s still gonna be surprised. Thanks, Spider.”
As the three made for the door, Spider called out.
“It’s a shame... I coulda used that ten G’s.”
Showtime stopped in his tracks. “What ten G’s?”
“What do you mean
What ten g’s? The ten thousand dollar bounty Melton placed on his own head. Whoever beats him gets the money. I got a lotta legal fees... or I could’a bought a lotta beer.”
“I never heard about this bounty,” Showtime said. “I just wanted to fight Melton for the glory of it.”
Spider paused a moment, then began to laugh loudly, “Glory! Ha, hahaha, hahaha! The f—k does that even mean? You fought that hard, an’ you didn’t even know about the money? Holy s—t, brother, you’re even crazier than I thought. Hahahaha,
what ten G’s, he sez. All for the glory. Get the f—k outta here.”
The three got back in Penny’s car for the long drive back to civilization. It was night, and the windows were rolled down so a cool desert breeze could blow in and revitalize Showtime’s exhausted body. They didn’t say another word, just bobbed their heads along to the song on the radio. Penny’s love of 90’s rock had brought them a strangely appropriate soundtrack: “If I Had A Million Dollars” by the Barenaked Ladies.
But Showtime still couldn’t focus on the money, now that he knew about it. He couldn’t help but repeat a phrase Spider had said earlier:
“Everyone wants to leave their mark on the world, right?”
