Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Apr 16, 2011 10:30:21 GMT -6
“Four men. Three contenders, one champion, and a whole lot of unresolved anger...most of which, at least from my part, is self-directed. If I had won, if I had been good enough...would this match be happening? I can almost guarantee it wouldn't have. And if I had won, would I have had that T-shirt handed to me? Would that specter be hanging over my head, and would I be trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do? Not a chance. But that all happened. And now, here I am trying to pick up the pieces and figure out just what the hell's going on, and how can I walk out of Sovereign with my head held high. Nothing else matters...I have to win. I have to.”
“Especially against Freakke. No offense, man, but you've fallen far, and that's pretty difficult when your schtick is that you're a wrestling clown. No, changing your name to Carnival King doesn't change the fact that you're still out there in facepaint and a dumb coat trying to be a semi-serious competitor. Teaming with Sephiroth du Suckass didn't change that, and when the going got tough he got shown the door by our own mini-exorcist, Tempestad. You? I figure all I need to do with you is tell you that you're showing up on the wrong day. After all, the Shriner Circus is gonna be in the house on Monday. Might want to wait until then to show up.”
_____________________________
We fade in on Andrew Jacobsen sitting on a bench in the relatively warm city of Memphis, Tennessee. He folds his hands behind his head and waits patiently for...someone, grinning to himself. Andrew hums a few bars of an unfamiliar tune as he waits, speaking to himself.
“Well, at least she answered the phone this time...we've got a lot to talk about, and I want her sober for this...if she'll show up sometime in this decade. Oh, there we go.”
He stands up, grinning as Emma Danielson walks into the shot. They hug each other, and Andrew pulls back, sitting down. Emma sits down across from him, and AJ clears his throat.
“Okay, first off...about a few weeks ago...emotions were running high, it was the heat of the moment, and, well...we're friends, right?”
Emma nods, knowing where he's going, and cuts him off.
“Yeah, we are. We both kind of overreacted to everything. You panicked, I had three in me already...on that note, I still owe you a drink for the chairshot. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn't mean to rattle around that packing peanut you call a brain too much.”
Andrew rolls his eyes, playfully swatting Emma across the back of the head. She grins at him, Andrew returning the warmth.
“So, on to more pressing matters...my match at Sovereign. I've got to deal with Venom and Freakke. Freakke I can beat, but Venom...I don't think I've had an opponent like him since Steve. The man's just that damn good. He offered me a spot in the Young Guns, even when he could have just beat me down and left me lying there. To top it off, we have a unifying factor in our mutual dislike of a certain Texan woman...but the fact remains that he's my opponent, and I have to find a way to beat him. Me and Cross do. I just don't know what to do about this whole Young Guns thing...”
Emma snorts, rolling her eyes derisively at Andrew's indecision. He looks at her oddly as she chuckles to herself.
“Blow 'em off. You're part of the Rat Pack, and Ander and Roxxxie have done good by you. You need to focus on the fact that you can beat both of your opponents, and you HAVE beaten both of them. Add in that you've got Cross on your team, a fine wrestler by any measure, and I think you've basically got a recipe for guaranteed victory. Come on, man. It's Freakke. The man couldn't wrestle his way out of a paper bag, much less a match like this.”
Andrew chuckles, nodding. He looks over at her, a bit amazed.
“How do you just snap off those decisions like that? I mean, it's like bam-bam-bam, you're rattling off courses of action and advice like it was nothing. You're always so sure, so determined, o focused...how the hell do you pull it off?”
Emma laughs again, patting Andrew's back and putting an arm around his shoulders. She pulls him in, speaking in an almost conspiratorial tone to him.
“It's not that hard, Andrew. All I do is take things one day at a time, one match at a time. I'm a very laid-back person, and it helps my stress management. I jut focus on one thing at a time and don't let anything get to me that much. It's not perfect, I'll admit. I can get hung up on stuff...like that little bitch who must not get free publicity...but in general, it's kept me mostly sane throughout the years.”
Andrew nods, sighing, and looks down. He holds his head up with his hands, looking off into the distance.
“I guess so...I hope this works. If I lose...no, I won't. I can't lose. Not to Venom, not again. We're going to make this happen, Em. I can feel it. And this match is just the beginning...the start of something great. Now, let's go get those drinks.”
Andrew grins at Emma, who smiles back. They stand up and walk off, chatting back and forth. Fade to black.
_____________________________
“My partner, Xavier Cross...X-Man, how've things been? Still lonely out there in the big bad world? God, it's been ages. Last time I saw you, you were running off Steve Awesome in the Warfare match. My, how time does fly. You're a great partner for me to have. Former National Champion, former Xtreme Champion...but right now, none of that matters. One thing matters to me: you're my partner, and that means we've got to be on the same damn page.”
“I don't want you showboating to get across that you should be challenging for the title. I just want to win this match. You can screw around all you want, but if you lose, then you just look like a dumbass. We can save the celebration for the aftershow. At the moment, we have two concerns, and they're named Venom and Freakke. I trust you to be able to hold your own in the ring. Just don't try to play the hero. If you need to tag out, tag out. If you think I'm better matched up against one or the other of our opponents, we play to our strengths. Just...for the love of God, don't screw up. Please?”
_____________________________
We fade back in, this time on the exterior of an opulent mansion somewhere that's distinctly not Memphis. Andrew drives his rental car up to the gate, pausing as the security cameras register who he is. After a few moments, the guard buzzes him in, and he drives through, up to the door. Andrew gets out, wearing a relatively nice outfit, and grabs a bag from his passenger seat before walking up to the door, ringing the bell. After a second, the door opens, and the face of Will Washington, the long-absent nCw wrestler, appears in the crack. He looks at Jacobsen silently before shaking his head.
“What possessed you to drive all the way out here, Andy? Isn't the pay-per-view in Memphis?”
Andrew nods, grinning slightly.
“Yeah, it is. I just felt like I needed to drop by...get some advice from an old friend.”
Will shakes his head, opening the door enough for Andrew to walk in.
“We're not friends, Junior, but I'll let that slide. What do you need advice about? A match? Your finances? Whatever it is, it better be quick. I had a whole lot of nothing planned for today, and I intend to get around to it.”
Andrew walks in and sits down on one of the rather comfortable chairs in the entrance hall. Will sits across from him, folding his hands in his lap.
“Well then? You come to me on this, the day of my daughter's wedding, to interrupt my routine. Why are you here?”
AJ sighs, nodding. He shifts the bag around and opens it, pulling out the Young Guns shirt Venom offered him two weeks ago on Collision. Will blinks, and Andrew lays it over the arm of his chair, nodding to Will.
“I need to make a decision. Do I stick with the Rat Pack or do I take Venom up on his offer? I mean, on the one hand—”
Washington cuts Andrew off with an upraised hand. He rubs the bridge of his nose with his other hand before looking back up at AJ. The former Tag Team Champion settles back in his chair, stretching a bit.
“Well, Little AJ, the way I see it is...look at who you've got in each group. With the Rat Pack, you've got Ander “Less Charisma Than You” Carvetti, who's a perpetual failure—in that sense you're perfect for each other—and Roxxxie, who takes the term slut and elevates it to new levels of leg-spreading never seen before. On the other hand, she's got the Women's Title, so you three can be lonely and circle-jerk over that. If you go to the Young Guns, you've got Venom, the current National Champion and a man who's handed you your ass twice in a row now. Roberto Verona's a promising young kid, and I think he's got a good shot at taking the X Championship from Todd Williams—love that guy anyways—and on the ovary-having side of things, you've got Trish Newborn, who beat the hell out of your ex for the Women's Title back in December. Hmm...tough call, tough call.”
The sarcasm practically drips from Will's voice on the last sentence. Andrew groans, looking down with a completely crushed look on his face.
“Okay...first off, how did you know she's my ex?”
Will shrugs.
“Magic of the Internet, little buddy.”
Andrew nods, not wanting to press the question any further.
“Okay, so apart from that...I understand that on paper, the Young Guns make the most sense. But I committed to Roxxxie and Ander. I don't want to back out on them. And I spent the entire summer fighting the Guns. What sort of a hypocrite would I look like if I signed on with them? Honestly, I don't know...”
Will cocks an eyebrow at the former X-Division Champion, shaking his head. He stands up, jerking his thumb at the door. Andrew puts the shirt back in his bag, walking towards it.
“Thanks for wasting the last five minutes of my life. Tell Cross I said hi. And sorry about your mother.”
Andrew nods, turning to walk out the door. As he does so, he's caught in the back of the head with a Cambridge Calling superkick, sending him flying into the asphalt next to his car. The camera pans to show Will standing there with a disapproving look on his face.
“And believe me...if you know what's good for your career, you'll make the right choice. Might not be the one you WANT to make, but you'll make it.”
Washington turns around, shutting the door. Andrew stands up, holding the back of his head and groaning.
“Son of a bitch...last time I come here for advice...”
He opens his passenger door and throws the bag in, then shuts it and staggers around to the driver's side. He gets in, starting the car back up, and drives off as we fade to black.
_____________________________
“And finally I get to my other opponent...Venom. V, you've been weighing on my mind a lot lately. From my frustration about not being able to beat you to the...offer...you extended to me after the match, you've been a lot of my troubles lately. I'm glad this match got made, though. I get another shot at redemption. With this match, in this moment...I get my shot at revenge.”
“Venom, I heard you rattling about the “path of obscurity” and “pieces to the puzzle.” What I'm going to do to you this Sunday isn't any puzzle. It's nice and simple. So simple, even Lex Sense could understand it. We're going to get in that ring and have a wrestling match. Holds will be exchanged. Strikes will be traded. And in the end, one thing is going to be certain: I'm going to be standing with my hand raised high. Don't like it? Who cares what you think? Venom, you want my answer? Well, I'm going to give it to you loud and clear. Just be sure to listen for once.”
“Especially against Freakke. No offense, man, but you've fallen far, and that's pretty difficult when your schtick is that you're a wrestling clown. No, changing your name to Carnival King doesn't change the fact that you're still out there in facepaint and a dumb coat trying to be a semi-serious competitor. Teaming with Sephiroth du Suckass didn't change that, and when the going got tough he got shown the door by our own mini-exorcist, Tempestad. You? I figure all I need to do with you is tell you that you're showing up on the wrong day. After all, the Shriner Circus is gonna be in the house on Monday. Might want to wait until then to show up.”
_____________________________
We fade in on Andrew Jacobsen sitting on a bench in the relatively warm city of Memphis, Tennessee. He folds his hands behind his head and waits patiently for...someone, grinning to himself. Andrew hums a few bars of an unfamiliar tune as he waits, speaking to himself.
“Well, at least she answered the phone this time...we've got a lot to talk about, and I want her sober for this...if she'll show up sometime in this decade. Oh, there we go.”
He stands up, grinning as Emma Danielson walks into the shot. They hug each other, and Andrew pulls back, sitting down. Emma sits down across from him, and AJ clears his throat.
“Okay, first off...about a few weeks ago...emotions were running high, it was the heat of the moment, and, well...we're friends, right?”
Emma nods, knowing where he's going, and cuts him off.
“Yeah, we are. We both kind of overreacted to everything. You panicked, I had three in me already...on that note, I still owe you a drink for the chairshot. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn't mean to rattle around that packing peanut you call a brain too much.”
Andrew rolls his eyes, playfully swatting Emma across the back of the head. She grins at him, Andrew returning the warmth.
“So, on to more pressing matters...my match at Sovereign. I've got to deal with Venom and Freakke. Freakke I can beat, but Venom...I don't think I've had an opponent like him since Steve. The man's just that damn good. He offered me a spot in the Young Guns, even when he could have just beat me down and left me lying there. To top it off, we have a unifying factor in our mutual dislike of a certain Texan woman...but the fact remains that he's my opponent, and I have to find a way to beat him. Me and Cross do. I just don't know what to do about this whole Young Guns thing...”
Emma snorts, rolling her eyes derisively at Andrew's indecision. He looks at her oddly as she chuckles to herself.
“Blow 'em off. You're part of the Rat Pack, and Ander and Roxxxie have done good by you. You need to focus on the fact that you can beat both of your opponents, and you HAVE beaten both of them. Add in that you've got Cross on your team, a fine wrestler by any measure, and I think you've basically got a recipe for guaranteed victory. Come on, man. It's Freakke. The man couldn't wrestle his way out of a paper bag, much less a match like this.”
Andrew chuckles, nodding. He looks over at her, a bit amazed.
“How do you just snap off those decisions like that? I mean, it's like bam-bam-bam, you're rattling off courses of action and advice like it was nothing. You're always so sure, so determined, o focused...how the hell do you pull it off?”
Emma laughs again, patting Andrew's back and putting an arm around his shoulders. She pulls him in, speaking in an almost conspiratorial tone to him.
“It's not that hard, Andrew. All I do is take things one day at a time, one match at a time. I'm a very laid-back person, and it helps my stress management. I jut focus on one thing at a time and don't let anything get to me that much. It's not perfect, I'll admit. I can get hung up on stuff...like that little bitch who must not get free publicity...but in general, it's kept me mostly sane throughout the years.”
Andrew nods, sighing, and looks down. He holds his head up with his hands, looking off into the distance.
“I guess so...I hope this works. If I lose...no, I won't. I can't lose. Not to Venom, not again. We're going to make this happen, Em. I can feel it. And this match is just the beginning...the start of something great. Now, let's go get those drinks.”
Andrew grins at Emma, who smiles back. They stand up and walk off, chatting back and forth. Fade to black.
_____________________________
“My partner, Xavier Cross...X-Man, how've things been? Still lonely out there in the big bad world? God, it's been ages. Last time I saw you, you were running off Steve Awesome in the Warfare match. My, how time does fly. You're a great partner for me to have. Former National Champion, former Xtreme Champion...but right now, none of that matters. One thing matters to me: you're my partner, and that means we've got to be on the same damn page.”
“I don't want you showboating to get across that you should be challenging for the title. I just want to win this match. You can screw around all you want, but if you lose, then you just look like a dumbass. We can save the celebration for the aftershow. At the moment, we have two concerns, and they're named Venom and Freakke. I trust you to be able to hold your own in the ring. Just don't try to play the hero. If you need to tag out, tag out. If you think I'm better matched up against one or the other of our opponents, we play to our strengths. Just...for the love of God, don't screw up. Please?”
_____________________________
We fade back in, this time on the exterior of an opulent mansion somewhere that's distinctly not Memphis. Andrew drives his rental car up to the gate, pausing as the security cameras register who he is. After a few moments, the guard buzzes him in, and he drives through, up to the door. Andrew gets out, wearing a relatively nice outfit, and grabs a bag from his passenger seat before walking up to the door, ringing the bell. After a second, the door opens, and the face of Will Washington, the long-absent nCw wrestler, appears in the crack. He looks at Jacobsen silently before shaking his head.
“What possessed you to drive all the way out here, Andy? Isn't the pay-per-view in Memphis?”
Andrew nods, grinning slightly.
“Yeah, it is. I just felt like I needed to drop by...get some advice from an old friend.”
Will shakes his head, opening the door enough for Andrew to walk in.
“We're not friends, Junior, but I'll let that slide. What do you need advice about? A match? Your finances? Whatever it is, it better be quick. I had a whole lot of nothing planned for today, and I intend to get around to it.”
Andrew walks in and sits down on one of the rather comfortable chairs in the entrance hall. Will sits across from him, folding his hands in his lap.
“Well then? You come to me on this, the day of my daughter's wedding, to interrupt my routine. Why are you here?”
AJ sighs, nodding. He shifts the bag around and opens it, pulling out the Young Guns shirt Venom offered him two weeks ago on Collision. Will blinks, and Andrew lays it over the arm of his chair, nodding to Will.
“I need to make a decision. Do I stick with the Rat Pack or do I take Venom up on his offer? I mean, on the one hand—”
Washington cuts Andrew off with an upraised hand. He rubs the bridge of his nose with his other hand before looking back up at AJ. The former Tag Team Champion settles back in his chair, stretching a bit.
“Well, Little AJ, the way I see it is...look at who you've got in each group. With the Rat Pack, you've got Ander “Less Charisma Than You” Carvetti, who's a perpetual failure—in that sense you're perfect for each other—and Roxxxie, who takes the term slut and elevates it to new levels of leg-spreading never seen before. On the other hand, she's got the Women's Title, so you three can be lonely and circle-jerk over that. If you go to the Young Guns, you've got Venom, the current National Champion and a man who's handed you your ass twice in a row now. Roberto Verona's a promising young kid, and I think he's got a good shot at taking the X Championship from Todd Williams—love that guy anyways—and on the ovary-having side of things, you've got Trish Newborn, who beat the hell out of your ex for the Women's Title back in December. Hmm...tough call, tough call.”
The sarcasm practically drips from Will's voice on the last sentence. Andrew groans, looking down with a completely crushed look on his face.
“Okay...first off, how did you know she's my ex?”
Will shrugs.
“Magic of the Internet, little buddy.”
Andrew nods, not wanting to press the question any further.
“Okay, so apart from that...I understand that on paper, the Young Guns make the most sense. But I committed to Roxxxie and Ander. I don't want to back out on them. And I spent the entire summer fighting the Guns. What sort of a hypocrite would I look like if I signed on with them? Honestly, I don't know...”
Will cocks an eyebrow at the former X-Division Champion, shaking his head. He stands up, jerking his thumb at the door. Andrew puts the shirt back in his bag, walking towards it.
“Thanks for wasting the last five minutes of my life. Tell Cross I said hi. And sorry about your mother.”
Andrew nods, turning to walk out the door. As he does so, he's caught in the back of the head with a Cambridge Calling superkick, sending him flying into the asphalt next to his car. The camera pans to show Will standing there with a disapproving look on his face.
“And believe me...if you know what's good for your career, you'll make the right choice. Might not be the one you WANT to make, but you'll make it.”
Washington turns around, shutting the door. Andrew stands up, holding the back of his head and groaning.
“Son of a bitch...last time I come here for advice...”
He opens his passenger door and throws the bag in, then shuts it and staggers around to the driver's side. He gets in, starting the car back up, and drives off as we fade to black.
_____________________________
“And finally I get to my other opponent...Venom. V, you've been weighing on my mind a lot lately. From my frustration about not being able to beat you to the...offer...you extended to me after the match, you've been a lot of my troubles lately. I'm glad this match got made, though. I get another shot at redemption. With this match, in this moment...I get my shot at revenge.”
“Venom, I heard you rattling about the “path of obscurity” and “pieces to the puzzle.” What I'm going to do to you this Sunday isn't any puzzle. It's nice and simple. So simple, even Lex Sense could understand it. We're going to get in that ring and have a wrestling match. Holds will be exchanged. Strikes will be traded. And in the end, one thing is going to be certain: I'm going to be standing with my hand raised high. Don't like it? Who cares what you think? Venom, you want my answer? Well, I'm going to give it to you loud and clear. Just be sure to listen for once.”