Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Sept 25, 2011 3:37:14 GMT -6
“Lex…you talk an awful lot about manipulation. You talk about how I’m being used as a pawn by this immense conspiracy to hold down the free-thinkers and individuals in this company, all for the sake of making men like Steve Awesome and Rob Diamond top-of-the-heap perpetually. Lex, a history lesson, my friend. This very event, last year. This very match, in fact. The Warfare match. Being fought between the Front Office, led by Steve Awesome and endorsed by Leonard Fox for the sole purpose of perpetuating what management wants…and the Revolution, fighting against stagnation and the idea of a corporate champion…led by…oh, some bland upstart who hadn’t done anything people cared about at that point. Who was that? Oh, right…ME.”
“If you had ever paid attention to me and what I do, you’d know that corporate’s interests are pretty low on my priority list. But here you are, getting duped by Ricky Johnson into this whole ordeal. You’re being herded like a sheep, and you’re too willfully blind to see it. Ricky doesn’t care about you, or Jimmy, or the little guy. He just wanted a title shot, and you two happened to get roped into things. I don’t blame you. I mean, after the kerfuffle…did I really just say kerfuffle? After the shenanigans last month, people want closure. They want to see a definitive winner. And that’s what they’ll get when me and Rob take those belts from you and Jimmy.”
“Do I want to be teaming with Rob and Steve? Bluntly, no, I don’t. I would have told them to go screw themselves any other day of the week…but because it was you two, and because of what you did to Angel…I jumped at the chance. You attacked a retired wrestler and damn near crippled him. PERMANENTLY. I can’t stand for that. And before you mention that Glaswegian bastard, I didn’t intend to cripple him. Send him packing back to the bingo-hall hellholes he’s worthy of occupying? Sure. But I’m not the crippling type.”
“That was my problem: in the company of delusional revolutionaries, psychopathic mental patients and man-children…I was just a kid trying to act tough. You actually are that depraved and violent. You’d end a career if someone looked at you wrong. That’s why of all the men on that team, Ricky, Jimmy…you’re the one I’m most worried about, Lex. You’re the biggest threat, and don’t be surprised if I help Rob out with taking your ass out.
“I’ve wrestled the best this company has to offer. From Lance Ryan to Charlie Velez, Adam Knite to Steve Awesome, Rob Diamond to Gib, I’ve seen them all and I’ve wrestled them all. Have I beat them all? No. But consider this: every moment of my career, every match I’ve ever wrestled, has been for nCw. Everything I have done in this industry has happened in front of those cameras, in that ring, and for these fans. They’ve seen me come from nothing to where I stand today, and apart from the disaster of this summer, they have been the ones that will me to get up and keep going. I never quit. Not while I still hear them cheering me on. And I will not quit just because a few butthurt jackasses decided to hurl a few insults my way.”
“I’m prepared to look past my personal feelings regarding my teammates because at the end of the day, we’re still wrestlers, competing to prove that we are, in fact, the best in the world at what we do. We’re athletes, we’re fighters, and unlike what some people might think, you don’t just throw the ***damn match to ‘make a statement.’ You want to know how you make a statement? Well…just watch this Sunday. Watch what we do to the Young Bloods and Ricky Johnson. THAT…is how you make a statement.”[/color]
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We open on the outside of the Inzane-O-Sense Ice Cream Social with Awesomesauce, or rather the Radisson that it’s taking place at. Rob Diamond is still protesting to Jamal that he should be let in.
“Please, man, let me in! I have to punch Lex in the dick! Wait, no, let me try that again…”
Andrew Jacobsen walks up, pissed off but managing to rein it in enough to appear somewhat civilized. Jamal looks over to him, cocking an eyebrow.
“Name?”
Andrew glances to Rob, cutting him off before he can speak.
“Rob Diamond.”
Jamal checks the list, nodding and stepping aside.
“Welcome, Mr. Diamond. Enjoy the social.”
Rob practically has an apoplectic fit as Andrew walks in, smirking.
“OH COME ON!”
Andrew turns into the bar, where the social is still in full tilt. Leaning on the bar, flanked by an equally inebriated Lex Sense and Jimmy Zane, is the Face of the Franchise himself, Steve Awesome, mid-anecdote.
“…yeah man, the expression on his face when he saw who it was was priceless. I’m thinking of having T-shirts made to commemorate the occasion. I wouldn’t do that to you, I like you two…sort of…okay, so here’s my plan. We get Jimmy Turner and a goat, and we—”
Steve is cut off as a boot kicks the door open. Attached to the boot is a very irate Andrew Jacobsen, who strides in and immediately gets face-to-face with Steve. Steve’s expression never changes, staying as static as his cheery tone of voice.
“I’ll continue my little plan later…got to take out the trash.”
He sets down his drink and steps forward, throwing his arms wide.
“Andy! Son! What is it? How can Papa Steve help? Do you need help understanding the changes your body’s going through? See, men have these things called balls…”
Andrew snaps at Steve, pissed off.
“Shut your ***damn mouth, Bates. I don’t want to hear the routine. I don’t want to hear the same tired jokes about your sex life, or my being a boy scout, and least of all about you ****ing my mother. I don’t want to hear you running me down, calling me a screwup, mocking me for getting punched out when you set me up—and for the record, Manny Pacquiao is FILIPINO, you brainless man-whore!—or calling me Rob’s pet project. I’m ****ing tired of it, and it stops now.”
Awesome smirks, cooing obnoxiously as Andrew fumes at him.
“Aww, ain’t it cute! Little Andy finally went and got a pair of balls from his tranny buddy! Congratulations!”
His face goes deadly serious in a heartbeat, and Steve shoots back a glare at Andrew, pushing him back a few steps.
“Now, I might stop saying those things if they weren’t true. Maybe. But you ARE Robby’s pet project. I’ve been resistant to you being called INfamous the entire way. Why? You said it yourself: you’re a boy scout. You couldn’t jaywalk without having to go to confessional. You get altitude sickness even thinking about the glass ceiling. I don’t give a **** if Manny’s Mexican, Filipino or Iranian. Andy, you’re not INfamous. You never have been, you aren’t, and you never will be. Stop trying to be me. You’re not good enough to even be mentioned in the same sentence as me, much less be the Face of the Franchise. Now turn around and walk away before I make you cry for your daddy again.”
Jacobsen takes another step forward, eyes hard as steel, and his frame tenses, ready to strike if he has to.
“Do that, Steve. Go ahead and put me out. Make that title defense of yours a handicap match. That’s real smart. See, I hate your guts. If I could, I’d just let Ricky pick you apart and leave you lying. But I don’t like to lose.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Andrew’s fist draws back slightly, but he manages to calm himself down, shaking his head and continuing on.
“But even if I don’t like the idea of you wearing that World Title around your waist still, I dislike the idea of Ricky Johnson holding it even more. Moreover, I want those Tag Team Titles and I want some closure. So I’ll make this quick. I’m sure you have something real important to get back to. You and I. We work together here. But after that, I could frankly care less if you died in a fire. You ruined my family. You tore my parents apart. And one of these days, hopefully sooner rather than later, I’ll pay you back for it. This week? I’d rather pound the crap out of Johnson and your two new drinking buddies. Can we agree to behave like adults for once here?”
He offers a hand for a handshake. Steve regards it like Andrew’s just extended a radioactive pile of dog crap to him. After a few dead moments, Andrew retracts his hand, shaking his head. Steve chuckles.
“You expect me to shake hands with you? In front of all these people? Think what it’ll do to my reputation? I could be deemed seriously uncool if I—”
Andrew cuts him off with a huge right hand that dumps Steve back over the bar, as we hear the crashing of glasses. Andrew shakes his head, groaning, and looks to the Young Bloods, glaring daggers at them.
“I’ll see you in the ring.”
He turns and walks away, the camera lingering on Steve Awesome pulling himself back to his feet. He growls at Andrew’s receding form.
“That son of a bitch…I’ll show him!”
Steve vaults the bar as we smash cut to black.
“If you had ever paid attention to me and what I do, you’d know that corporate’s interests are pretty low on my priority list. But here you are, getting duped by Ricky Johnson into this whole ordeal. You’re being herded like a sheep, and you’re too willfully blind to see it. Ricky doesn’t care about you, or Jimmy, or the little guy. He just wanted a title shot, and you two happened to get roped into things. I don’t blame you. I mean, after the kerfuffle…did I really just say kerfuffle? After the shenanigans last month, people want closure. They want to see a definitive winner. And that’s what they’ll get when me and Rob take those belts from you and Jimmy.”
“Do I want to be teaming with Rob and Steve? Bluntly, no, I don’t. I would have told them to go screw themselves any other day of the week…but because it was you two, and because of what you did to Angel…I jumped at the chance. You attacked a retired wrestler and damn near crippled him. PERMANENTLY. I can’t stand for that. And before you mention that Glaswegian bastard, I didn’t intend to cripple him. Send him packing back to the bingo-hall hellholes he’s worthy of occupying? Sure. But I’m not the crippling type.”
“That was my problem: in the company of delusional revolutionaries, psychopathic mental patients and man-children…I was just a kid trying to act tough. You actually are that depraved and violent. You’d end a career if someone looked at you wrong. That’s why of all the men on that team, Ricky, Jimmy…you’re the one I’m most worried about, Lex. You’re the biggest threat, and don’t be surprised if I help Rob out with taking your ass out.
“I’ve wrestled the best this company has to offer. From Lance Ryan to Charlie Velez, Adam Knite to Steve Awesome, Rob Diamond to Gib, I’ve seen them all and I’ve wrestled them all. Have I beat them all? No. But consider this: every moment of my career, every match I’ve ever wrestled, has been for nCw. Everything I have done in this industry has happened in front of those cameras, in that ring, and for these fans. They’ve seen me come from nothing to where I stand today, and apart from the disaster of this summer, they have been the ones that will me to get up and keep going. I never quit. Not while I still hear them cheering me on. And I will not quit just because a few butthurt jackasses decided to hurl a few insults my way.”
“I’m prepared to look past my personal feelings regarding my teammates because at the end of the day, we’re still wrestlers, competing to prove that we are, in fact, the best in the world at what we do. We’re athletes, we’re fighters, and unlike what some people might think, you don’t just throw the ***damn match to ‘make a statement.’ You want to know how you make a statement? Well…just watch this Sunday. Watch what we do to the Young Bloods and Ricky Johnson. THAT…is how you make a statement.”[/color]
_________________________________
We open on the outside of the Inzane-O-Sense Ice Cream Social with Awesomesauce, or rather the Radisson that it’s taking place at. Rob Diamond is still protesting to Jamal that he should be let in.
“Please, man, let me in! I have to punch Lex in the dick! Wait, no, let me try that again…”
Andrew Jacobsen walks up, pissed off but managing to rein it in enough to appear somewhat civilized. Jamal looks over to him, cocking an eyebrow.
“Name?”
Andrew glances to Rob, cutting him off before he can speak.
“Rob Diamond.”
Jamal checks the list, nodding and stepping aside.
“Welcome, Mr. Diamond. Enjoy the social.”
Rob practically has an apoplectic fit as Andrew walks in, smirking.
“OH COME ON!”
Andrew turns into the bar, where the social is still in full tilt. Leaning on the bar, flanked by an equally inebriated Lex Sense and Jimmy Zane, is the Face of the Franchise himself, Steve Awesome, mid-anecdote.
“…yeah man, the expression on his face when he saw who it was was priceless. I’m thinking of having T-shirts made to commemorate the occasion. I wouldn’t do that to you, I like you two…sort of…okay, so here’s my plan. We get Jimmy Turner and a goat, and we—”
Steve is cut off as a boot kicks the door open. Attached to the boot is a very irate Andrew Jacobsen, who strides in and immediately gets face-to-face with Steve. Steve’s expression never changes, staying as static as his cheery tone of voice.
“I’ll continue my little plan later…got to take out the trash.”
He sets down his drink and steps forward, throwing his arms wide.
“Andy! Son! What is it? How can Papa Steve help? Do you need help understanding the changes your body’s going through? See, men have these things called balls…”
Andrew snaps at Steve, pissed off.
“Shut your ***damn mouth, Bates. I don’t want to hear the routine. I don’t want to hear the same tired jokes about your sex life, or my being a boy scout, and least of all about you ****ing my mother. I don’t want to hear you running me down, calling me a screwup, mocking me for getting punched out when you set me up—and for the record, Manny Pacquiao is FILIPINO, you brainless man-whore!—or calling me Rob’s pet project. I’m ****ing tired of it, and it stops now.”
Awesome smirks, cooing obnoxiously as Andrew fumes at him.
“Aww, ain’t it cute! Little Andy finally went and got a pair of balls from his tranny buddy! Congratulations!”
His face goes deadly serious in a heartbeat, and Steve shoots back a glare at Andrew, pushing him back a few steps.
“Now, I might stop saying those things if they weren’t true. Maybe. But you ARE Robby’s pet project. I’ve been resistant to you being called INfamous the entire way. Why? You said it yourself: you’re a boy scout. You couldn’t jaywalk without having to go to confessional. You get altitude sickness even thinking about the glass ceiling. I don’t give a **** if Manny’s Mexican, Filipino or Iranian. Andy, you’re not INfamous. You never have been, you aren’t, and you never will be. Stop trying to be me. You’re not good enough to even be mentioned in the same sentence as me, much less be the Face of the Franchise. Now turn around and walk away before I make you cry for your daddy again.”
Jacobsen takes another step forward, eyes hard as steel, and his frame tenses, ready to strike if he has to.
“Do that, Steve. Go ahead and put me out. Make that title defense of yours a handicap match. That’s real smart. See, I hate your guts. If I could, I’d just let Ricky pick you apart and leave you lying. But I don’t like to lose.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Andrew’s fist draws back slightly, but he manages to calm himself down, shaking his head and continuing on.
“But even if I don’t like the idea of you wearing that World Title around your waist still, I dislike the idea of Ricky Johnson holding it even more. Moreover, I want those Tag Team Titles and I want some closure. So I’ll make this quick. I’m sure you have something real important to get back to. You and I. We work together here. But after that, I could frankly care less if you died in a fire. You ruined my family. You tore my parents apart. And one of these days, hopefully sooner rather than later, I’ll pay you back for it. This week? I’d rather pound the crap out of Johnson and your two new drinking buddies. Can we agree to behave like adults for once here?”
He offers a hand for a handshake. Steve regards it like Andrew’s just extended a radioactive pile of dog crap to him. After a few dead moments, Andrew retracts his hand, shaking his head. Steve chuckles.
“You expect me to shake hands with you? In front of all these people? Think what it’ll do to my reputation? I could be deemed seriously uncool if I—”
Andrew cuts him off with a huge right hand that dumps Steve back over the bar, as we hear the crashing of glasses. Andrew shakes his head, groaning, and looks to the Young Bloods, glaring daggers at them.
“I’ll see you in the ring.”
He turns and walks away, the camera lingering on Steve Awesome pulling himself back to his feet. He growls at Andrew’s receding form.
“That son of a bitch…I’ll show him!”
Steve vaults the bar as we smash cut to black.