Post by Andrew Jacobsen on May 31, 2010 0:06:26 GMT -6
"I don't get it.”
Four words echo through the weight room of nCw's training facility. The camera reveals that they are spoken by none other than Andrew Jacobsen, who sits at a military press bench in exercise gear, loaded barbell on the rack. He looks off into the distance, as if transfixed by something on the horizon...but since he's indoors, all there is for him to see is the blank wall. Andrew shakes his head slowly, looking down as if the weights on the bar are laid across his shoulders.
“I...just don't get it. I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I trained hard. I lived a clean life. I was a nice guy to everyone I met. Everything I've ever been told says that those things should add up to me being successful...but instead, it means that I get suckered by Venom and DDTed by Karn. The old adage was wrong. Cheaters prosper. Especially in this business.”
Andrew looks back at the weight rack, shaking his head as the strains of “Swagger Like Us” echo in the background. He leans back, grabbing the bar and beginning to press the weight over his head. AJ grimaces with the exertion, not counting how many reps he does, just going as long as he physically can. He speaks through clenched teeth, the strain beginning to show on his face.
“Venom...I called you out. I asked for this match. And you know what? I think, of all your punk friends, you're the one who's least likely to rely on shortcuts to get the win. I think this, but I know it probably isn't true. See, I've learned something about the Young Guns. You're all talented as hell, yeah. You've got incredible potential. I think that all of you have already held gold multiple times in other promotions. But you never learned the rule that with great power comes great responsibility.”
Andrew sets the weights back down on the rack. He breathes heavily, sweat rolling down his forehead. Andrew looks to the wall one more time...straight across at a poster of Rob Diamond. The mocking, menacing laugh of Diamond bounces back and forth in his head, prompting him to almost growl at it. Andrew stands up, hauling the bar over to a bench press setup, and lays down, starting to lift there.
“I'm starting to think that my detractors are right. Maybe I am just a pretty-boy who doesn't belong here. I can't win. I can't hold onto titles. Nothing I do ends in success...***damnit, why am I listening to that? Why, in the name of all that makes sense, would I ever believe that? I belong here just as much as you do, Venom. Just as much as Adam Knite or Steve Awesome or Brad Kane does. I belong here because I WANT to be here. I belong here because I decided, at a very young age, that I was going to do this with my life. I worked my entire life to get to where I am now. And I'll be damned if I let some pricks with an ego problem drive me away!”
Andrew lifts the bar one final time, letting it drop onto the rack with a resonant thud. He stands up, a fire burning behind his icy blue eyes. Andrew walks over to a dumbbell rack, grabbing two sixty-five-pound weights and lifting. He tries to not show any real exertion, speaking clearly but with conviction.
“Venom, I don't care who the hell you think you are. I don't care how much better you think you are than me. The fact of the matter is, I was only the third man to ever become a repeat X-Division Champion. I have defeated a former World Champion and bona fide legend. I have spent my entire career here in nCw, and already I've achieved things that most men can only dream of. And you know what? I've got decades ahead of me. I'm still employed here, so I must be doing something right, eh?”
He grins, shaking his head. Andrew sets down the dumbbells, picking up a large plate and lifting it from behind his head in a French curl. AJ lifts again and again, staring at that poster of Rob Diamond as he does so...but shifting his gaze to one of Venom, smirk on his face. This just inspires Andrew to work even harder.
“I love this company, Venom. It's the only one I've known, and I'll most likely end my career with that fact remaining true. And if you think you can just walk in here with your buddies and take it over, you've got another thing coming. Because four on one or not, I will fight with everything I've got to make sure you don't go another step further. Kelly Knite—and I don't want to keep harping on this—she said I should be the sort of person that represents nCw. Do you hear that, Venom? Could you bear that? What would it do to you if you saw my name up in lights as part of a World Title match, and not one of your goons or yourself? You say you're the future? Screw you! You had your chance! You, sir, are quite literally yesterday's news. Me? I'm the REAL future of nCw. I'm the one who's got everything going his way...I'm tomorrow's man, today.”
He drops the plate on the ground, dropping to the ground and starting up with crunches. The entire time, he keeps his eyes locked on Venom, reminding himself who he has to deal with...what sort of man he has to face on Sunday. Andrew scoffs, grinning.
“You're no man, Venom. You're a coward. Real men don't use chicken**** tactics to cost other men matches. Grow a pair of balls and step up, man! You want to be the future? Then seize the damn moment! Oh, wait, I'm sorry. You're the one on the webshow, while all the other Guns are on the actual pay-per-view, because two of them have titles to defend. You obviously CAN'T seize the moment, or YOU'D be the one defending the National Title, you jackass!”
Andrew stands up, flipping off the poster, and walks to a leg press, putting on at least 550 pounds of weight. He sits down at the machine, working even harder. He closes his eyes and tries to let everything go...but Diamond's laugh comes back again, ringing mockingly in his ears, and his eyes snap back open.
“I have nothing to lose, Venom. How about you? What can you lose here? Only any respect anyone would have had for you. Only your momentum. Only everything. I really don't care about being nice with you, Venom. You won't show me respect, so I damn sure won't reciprocate. I'm not going to worry about things like being courteous in the ring. I'm just going to beat your ass until you can't walk. I don't really want to deal with the Young Guns. I could just as soon not have to see you all ever again and be ecstatic. But since you're here, I might as well vent some rage on you.”
He stands up from the machine, walking towards the door on sore legs. He stops at the doorway, leaning against the wall with a grin on his face.
“Venom, I can do anything in the ring. I can be whatever I want to. One moment I can be all happy-go-lucky and friendly, and the next I can be deadly. You're not going to get anything but me at my most vicious and merciless. I won't leave anything out of the playbook. You want to fight unfair? I can do that. So, go ahead and bring your best if you want to. I don't give a damn anymore. Just come so I can demolish you. Come and get some...if you dare.”
He hits the lights, effectively cutting to black.
Four words echo through the weight room of nCw's training facility. The camera reveals that they are spoken by none other than Andrew Jacobsen, who sits at a military press bench in exercise gear, loaded barbell on the rack. He looks off into the distance, as if transfixed by something on the horizon...but since he's indoors, all there is for him to see is the blank wall. Andrew shakes his head slowly, looking down as if the weights on the bar are laid across his shoulders.
“I...just don't get it. I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I trained hard. I lived a clean life. I was a nice guy to everyone I met. Everything I've ever been told says that those things should add up to me being successful...but instead, it means that I get suckered by Venom and DDTed by Karn. The old adage was wrong. Cheaters prosper. Especially in this business.”
Andrew looks back at the weight rack, shaking his head as the strains of “Swagger Like Us” echo in the background. He leans back, grabbing the bar and beginning to press the weight over his head. AJ grimaces with the exertion, not counting how many reps he does, just going as long as he physically can. He speaks through clenched teeth, the strain beginning to show on his face.
“Venom...I called you out. I asked for this match. And you know what? I think, of all your punk friends, you're the one who's least likely to rely on shortcuts to get the win. I think this, but I know it probably isn't true. See, I've learned something about the Young Guns. You're all talented as hell, yeah. You've got incredible potential. I think that all of you have already held gold multiple times in other promotions. But you never learned the rule that with great power comes great responsibility.”
Andrew sets the weights back down on the rack. He breathes heavily, sweat rolling down his forehead. Andrew looks to the wall one more time...straight across at a poster of Rob Diamond. The mocking, menacing laugh of Diamond bounces back and forth in his head, prompting him to almost growl at it. Andrew stands up, hauling the bar over to a bench press setup, and lays down, starting to lift there.
“I'm starting to think that my detractors are right. Maybe I am just a pretty-boy who doesn't belong here. I can't win. I can't hold onto titles. Nothing I do ends in success...***damnit, why am I listening to that? Why, in the name of all that makes sense, would I ever believe that? I belong here just as much as you do, Venom. Just as much as Adam Knite or Steve Awesome or Brad Kane does. I belong here because I WANT to be here. I belong here because I decided, at a very young age, that I was going to do this with my life. I worked my entire life to get to where I am now. And I'll be damned if I let some pricks with an ego problem drive me away!”
Andrew lifts the bar one final time, letting it drop onto the rack with a resonant thud. He stands up, a fire burning behind his icy blue eyes. Andrew walks over to a dumbbell rack, grabbing two sixty-five-pound weights and lifting. He tries to not show any real exertion, speaking clearly but with conviction.
“Venom, I don't care who the hell you think you are. I don't care how much better you think you are than me. The fact of the matter is, I was only the third man to ever become a repeat X-Division Champion. I have defeated a former World Champion and bona fide legend. I have spent my entire career here in nCw, and already I've achieved things that most men can only dream of. And you know what? I've got decades ahead of me. I'm still employed here, so I must be doing something right, eh?”
He grins, shaking his head. Andrew sets down the dumbbells, picking up a large plate and lifting it from behind his head in a French curl. AJ lifts again and again, staring at that poster of Rob Diamond as he does so...but shifting his gaze to one of Venom, smirk on his face. This just inspires Andrew to work even harder.
“I love this company, Venom. It's the only one I've known, and I'll most likely end my career with that fact remaining true. And if you think you can just walk in here with your buddies and take it over, you've got another thing coming. Because four on one or not, I will fight with everything I've got to make sure you don't go another step further. Kelly Knite—and I don't want to keep harping on this—she said I should be the sort of person that represents nCw. Do you hear that, Venom? Could you bear that? What would it do to you if you saw my name up in lights as part of a World Title match, and not one of your goons or yourself? You say you're the future? Screw you! You had your chance! You, sir, are quite literally yesterday's news. Me? I'm the REAL future of nCw. I'm the one who's got everything going his way...I'm tomorrow's man, today.”
He drops the plate on the ground, dropping to the ground and starting up with crunches. The entire time, he keeps his eyes locked on Venom, reminding himself who he has to deal with...what sort of man he has to face on Sunday. Andrew scoffs, grinning.
“You're no man, Venom. You're a coward. Real men don't use chicken**** tactics to cost other men matches. Grow a pair of balls and step up, man! You want to be the future? Then seize the damn moment! Oh, wait, I'm sorry. You're the one on the webshow, while all the other Guns are on the actual pay-per-view, because two of them have titles to defend. You obviously CAN'T seize the moment, or YOU'D be the one defending the National Title, you jackass!”
Andrew stands up, flipping off the poster, and walks to a leg press, putting on at least 550 pounds of weight. He sits down at the machine, working even harder. He closes his eyes and tries to let everything go...but Diamond's laugh comes back again, ringing mockingly in his ears, and his eyes snap back open.
“I have nothing to lose, Venom. How about you? What can you lose here? Only any respect anyone would have had for you. Only your momentum. Only everything. I really don't care about being nice with you, Venom. You won't show me respect, so I damn sure won't reciprocate. I'm not going to worry about things like being courteous in the ring. I'm just going to beat your ass until you can't walk. I don't really want to deal with the Young Guns. I could just as soon not have to see you all ever again and be ecstatic. But since you're here, I might as well vent some rage on you.”
He stands up from the machine, walking towards the door on sore legs. He stops at the doorway, leaning against the wall with a grin on his face.
“Venom, I can do anything in the ring. I can be whatever I want to. One moment I can be all happy-go-lucky and friendly, and the next I can be deadly. You're not going to get anything but me at my most vicious and merciless. I won't leave anything out of the playbook. You want to fight unfair? I can do that. So, go ahead and bring your best if you want to. I don't give a damn anymore. Just come so I can demolish you. Come and get some...if you dare.”
He hits the lights, effectively cutting to black.