Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jun 18, 2010 0:18:39 GMT -6
Open on Andrew Jacobsen rubbing his head and groaning. He looks up, clearly weary, and flashes a quick smile at the camera as if to reassure what must be a dwindling fanbase that he's still enthusiastic as ever about his craft. That excitement he shows in his expression is undermined by his voice, which makes him sound like he just ran from one end of Minnesota to the other.
“Hey everyone. So, I woke up the other morning and apparently I've been fired...by the way, Leo, not to question the judgment of the almighty Front Office...well, yeah I'm going to question it, 'cause it's fun, but what sort of hash were you smoking when you installed Rob motherlovin' Diamond as the GM? You just know he's going to abuse that power like a red-headed stepchild. I mean, he's already booked Falcon up in a hardcore handicap match with Black Jesus and this Max Myers goon and I honestly don't know whether Rob meant to fire me or not. Rob, I think you've decided that mentioning me in every promo is your new gimmick. Why in the hell would you keep bringing me up otherwise? Also, quick update on Emma: she's trying to home detox, and I managed to talk her out of breaking her self-promise. We figure she'll be back in the ring sometime in later July. But I'm getting off track...not that I had a track in the first place...SO!”
He cracks his neck, trying to shake off some of the fatigue he's feeling. Andrew reaches over and grabs a cup of coffee from off-screen, also to help with his fatigue problem. He sips the drink, grinning.
“Doc's my opponent this week. Tough luck, Doc me boy. After taking the loss at Reborn to Tommy freakin' Victor, you're obviously on a bit of a downtrend. You have a few edges over me: one, you didn't have to wrestle last week, and two, you didn't lose to a man whose guts you hate last week. On the other hand, I beat Venom on Wired in the main event, so that's got me feeling good. I'm aiming to bag each of the Young Guns. First was Venom. Then comes you. After that, JFK...and then, maybe, just maybe, I can get my shot at Charlie Velez. Doc, I know what you think you are. You think you're better than any given member of the roster. And on a good day, maybe you are. But you've been having a string of bad days recently, and I think that's going to continue when I make you tap out in front of millions of viewers. I have a message to send to each and every one of the Young Guns and the Front Office, and you're going to be what I write that message on.”
Andrew shifts a bit, revealing that he's on a park bench in Milwaukee. He looks around where he is, grinning to himself.
“I'm so close to home I can feel it...it's good to have that home-field advantage, Doc. It's good for me to know that there are people that could be driving in from the Twin Cities to see me wrestle. Even if this is Cheesehead country, it's still the Midwest. It's still the closest to home I've been since I signed with nCw. And it's the perfect time for me to prove that I've still got it by taking down a former Xtreme Champion. In front of an audience that'll probably be on their feet the entire match—and just because I want to spite Kelly Knite for not having any faith in me—I'll do you in and remind people WHY I won the X-Division Title twice.”
He stands up, coffee cup in hand, and looks up to the cloudy gray sky, shaking his head and taking a sip of his coffee.
“Doc, your lack of communication entertains me. It's nice for once to have someone that knows when to shut up and just take their beating like a good little stooge. You're a stooge, Venom's a stooge, JFK's a smug stooge, and Velez is a corporate stooge. I swear to God and all that is holy, if I see so much as a SIGN of that witch Christina Karn's fingerprints over anything that happens on Collision, or if I see ANY of your Young Guns or Front Office buddies at ringside, I'll give them an ass-whooping too. I'm gonna prove that old-school good guy doesn't mean I'm a defenseless worm. No, you want that, you can go talk to...what was his name, Jack Wilde? Something like that. Doc, bring your fighting gear and be ready to take as well as you supposedly can dish, because the North Star's comin' crashing down on you.”
Andrew walks around a bit, looking at his disheveled appearance. He's wearing a wrinkled Brad Kane T-shirt, and he flashes a quick grin at the camera as it captures this fact.
“Yeah, I'm all the way a supporter of our World Champ. Why shouldn't I be? Enemy of my enemy and all that. Besides, he hasn't done anything to wrong me. The man fought hard to get that World Title, and I respect him for it. Hey, Brad? I'll be sure to help deal out a little bit of punishment for that Firing Squad you took. And consider me watching your back during the main event. I don't want any bullcrap going down. Steve wants that belt, he's gonna have to fight himself a war to get it.”
Andrew sits back down again, draining the coffee cup. He grins to himself as he can feel it kicking in, bringing energy back to the previously weary Jacobsen.
“Coffee solves all energy problems...you know, Doc, a famous man once said “all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” I firmly believe that. That's why I got involved with your little gang, Doc. Not because I thought I could get myself a shot at the National Title. No, it seems that honor is going to go to Xavier “I screwed it up last month, but since I'm the boss's lapdog, I get another shot” Cross or some crap like that. I got involved because I try to hold myself to a higher moral code than guys like you. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be associated with guys that destroy the gravestone of a man's wife in public to make a point about a freakin' wrestling match. Seems a little unstable upstairs to go to those lengths, but that may just be me. Who knows? Maybe defiling memorials is the “in” thing to do. In which case, me and Mr. Lincoln have an appointment with a few cans of spray paint...”
Andrew chuckles at his bit of absurd humor, setting the coffee cup down. He cracks his knuckles, flexing his fingers so they can get their entire range of senses back fully. Andrew nods, looking down briefly before looking back into the camera with a patented Jack Hammond cheeky grin.
“I know this little crusade of mine might not end well for me. But what the hey. Might as well have fun with it while I'm going. So Doc, bring your best. I'll bring mine. And may the best man win. I don't expect anything less, and anything less won't impress. Special thanks to my brother Rick—”
“Yo. Oh, and hi Mom!”
“—for being the cameraman this week. I might see you all later. If not, have a great time and make sure to tune in to all the exciting nCw programming, including Suspense's second finale. It's gonna be great TV, guys. See ya on Sunday!”
He waves, the video ending abruptly rather than fading out as it usually does.
“Hey everyone. So, I woke up the other morning and apparently I've been fired...by the way, Leo, not to question the judgment of the almighty Front Office...well, yeah I'm going to question it, 'cause it's fun, but what sort of hash were you smoking when you installed Rob motherlovin' Diamond as the GM? You just know he's going to abuse that power like a red-headed stepchild. I mean, he's already booked Falcon up in a hardcore handicap match with Black Jesus and this Max Myers goon and I honestly don't know whether Rob meant to fire me or not. Rob, I think you've decided that mentioning me in every promo is your new gimmick. Why in the hell would you keep bringing me up otherwise? Also, quick update on Emma: she's trying to home detox, and I managed to talk her out of breaking her self-promise. We figure she'll be back in the ring sometime in later July. But I'm getting off track...not that I had a track in the first place...SO!”
He cracks his neck, trying to shake off some of the fatigue he's feeling. Andrew reaches over and grabs a cup of coffee from off-screen, also to help with his fatigue problem. He sips the drink, grinning.
“Doc's my opponent this week. Tough luck, Doc me boy. After taking the loss at Reborn to Tommy freakin' Victor, you're obviously on a bit of a downtrend. You have a few edges over me: one, you didn't have to wrestle last week, and two, you didn't lose to a man whose guts you hate last week. On the other hand, I beat Venom on Wired in the main event, so that's got me feeling good. I'm aiming to bag each of the Young Guns. First was Venom. Then comes you. After that, JFK...and then, maybe, just maybe, I can get my shot at Charlie Velez. Doc, I know what you think you are. You think you're better than any given member of the roster. And on a good day, maybe you are. But you've been having a string of bad days recently, and I think that's going to continue when I make you tap out in front of millions of viewers. I have a message to send to each and every one of the Young Guns and the Front Office, and you're going to be what I write that message on.”
Andrew shifts a bit, revealing that he's on a park bench in Milwaukee. He looks around where he is, grinning to himself.
“I'm so close to home I can feel it...it's good to have that home-field advantage, Doc. It's good for me to know that there are people that could be driving in from the Twin Cities to see me wrestle. Even if this is Cheesehead country, it's still the Midwest. It's still the closest to home I've been since I signed with nCw. And it's the perfect time for me to prove that I've still got it by taking down a former Xtreme Champion. In front of an audience that'll probably be on their feet the entire match—and just because I want to spite Kelly Knite for not having any faith in me—I'll do you in and remind people WHY I won the X-Division Title twice.”
He stands up, coffee cup in hand, and looks up to the cloudy gray sky, shaking his head and taking a sip of his coffee.
“Doc, your lack of communication entertains me. It's nice for once to have someone that knows when to shut up and just take their beating like a good little stooge. You're a stooge, Venom's a stooge, JFK's a smug stooge, and Velez is a corporate stooge. I swear to God and all that is holy, if I see so much as a SIGN of that witch Christina Karn's fingerprints over anything that happens on Collision, or if I see ANY of your Young Guns or Front Office buddies at ringside, I'll give them an ass-whooping too. I'm gonna prove that old-school good guy doesn't mean I'm a defenseless worm. No, you want that, you can go talk to...what was his name, Jack Wilde? Something like that. Doc, bring your fighting gear and be ready to take as well as you supposedly can dish, because the North Star's comin' crashing down on you.”
Andrew walks around a bit, looking at his disheveled appearance. He's wearing a wrinkled Brad Kane T-shirt, and he flashes a quick grin at the camera as it captures this fact.
“Yeah, I'm all the way a supporter of our World Champ. Why shouldn't I be? Enemy of my enemy and all that. Besides, he hasn't done anything to wrong me. The man fought hard to get that World Title, and I respect him for it. Hey, Brad? I'll be sure to help deal out a little bit of punishment for that Firing Squad you took. And consider me watching your back during the main event. I don't want any bullcrap going down. Steve wants that belt, he's gonna have to fight himself a war to get it.”
Andrew sits back down again, draining the coffee cup. He grins to himself as he can feel it kicking in, bringing energy back to the previously weary Jacobsen.
“Coffee solves all energy problems...you know, Doc, a famous man once said “all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” I firmly believe that. That's why I got involved with your little gang, Doc. Not because I thought I could get myself a shot at the National Title. No, it seems that honor is going to go to Xavier “I screwed it up last month, but since I'm the boss's lapdog, I get another shot” Cross or some crap like that. I got involved because I try to hold myself to a higher moral code than guys like you. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be associated with guys that destroy the gravestone of a man's wife in public to make a point about a freakin' wrestling match. Seems a little unstable upstairs to go to those lengths, but that may just be me. Who knows? Maybe defiling memorials is the “in” thing to do. In which case, me and Mr. Lincoln have an appointment with a few cans of spray paint...”
Andrew chuckles at his bit of absurd humor, setting the coffee cup down. He cracks his knuckles, flexing his fingers so they can get their entire range of senses back fully. Andrew nods, looking down briefly before looking back into the camera with a patented Jack Hammond cheeky grin.
“I know this little crusade of mine might not end well for me. But what the hey. Might as well have fun with it while I'm going. So Doc, bring your best. I'll bring mine. And may the best man win. I don't expect anything less, and anything less won't impress. Special thanks to my brother Rick—”
“Yo. Oh, and hi Mom!”
“—for being the cameraman this week. I might see you all later. If not, have a great time and make sure to tune in to all the exciting nCw programming, including Suspense's second finale. It's gonna be great TV, guys. See ya on Sunday!”
He waves, the video ending abruptly rather than fading out as it usually does.