Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Oct 29, 2011 15:52:32 GMT -6
Andrew Jacobsen is sitting at home, happily screwing around on his brand-spanking-new copy of Batman: Arkham City, when he sees a blip at the top of the screen:
PixelPrincess is online.
Andrew pauses his game, opening up a chat dialog.
northstar187: Hey Z, what’s up?
It takes a few seconds to get a response.
PixelPrincess: nm. Over w/ Adam and Kelly.
northstar187: Fun. Wanna play some BF3? Totally kick your butt.
PixelPrincess: Not in the mood, Drewpy. Gonna beat up Stupid McJackass for a few hours.
Andrew sighs, fishing out his headset and putting it on. He's about to type something when another window pops up.
ix Sanity xi: BF3?
Andrew facepalms.
northstar187: Not now, Seth. Kind of busy.
He turns his attention back to Zelda.
northstar187: Z, get your headset. Now. Ceiling Cat commands it.
He can practically hear her grumbling as her impending abuse of Rob Diamond is averted. After a few seconds, Zelda calls him and Andrew picks up.
“Zelda, you need to talk to someone about this. Not just beat the crap out of a virtual copy of Rob.”
She’s sullen in her response, uncharacteristically so.
“I appreciate the effort, Andrew…but that son of a bitch…he…making that bet…”
“If ever there was a time I wished I could just beat the unholy hell out of him, it would be now. But…Zelda, trust me. It’s killing him too. I’ve seen it ripping him apart…”
She snaps back at him, clearly not believing a word of it.
“Oh yeah? It really eats at him, doesn’t it? It just burns that he got me and when I found out what a jackass he really was I left him, doesn’t it? Whatever he’s paying you to say this for him…it’s not gonna work. I don’t buy it for a moment. So, if you’ll excuse me…”
Andrew cuts her off, annoyance etched on his face.
“Zelda...you might not buy it, but it’s the truth. Now I’m begging you, please…Rob’s a changed man. If anyone would have a hard time admitting that, it’d be me. He genuinely wants to make you happy…Zelda, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone this depressed in a long time. Please, give him another cha—”
He stops when he sees the notice blinking at the top of the screen again:
PixelPrincess is offline.
Andrew sighs, setting down the controller, and buries his face in his hands, muttering into them as we fade out.
“What the hell can I do?”
__________________________________
“I’m getting awful sick of this whole routine. People bitching and moaning that they’re being held back because management doesn’t like them, for whatever ludicrous reason or another. I think you folks might have forgotten just what we are: we’re wrestlers! We WRESTLE to earn our place! We don’t whine and bitch and moan our way to success! We get in that damn ring and we fight it out! Mano a mano! One on one! Now, guys like Joe Everyman and Ricky Johnson are bitching that they’re just not favored by management because they suck it big time. You two, though…”
“You think this is about your nationality? You think this is about race? I’d like to point out to you that nobody has a damn problem with you two being from non-American countries. I’ve got a problem with you two pinning your lack of success on racial bias. You think you can’t get ahead in this company without being white? I point you to a personal friend of mine, Tempestad. Two-time nCw Xtreme Champion. Xavier Williams, the former three-time X-Division, Honor Champion…oh yeah, and WORLD CHAMPION. As in, king of the mountain, top of the heap, crème de la mother-frakking crème. You’re not fooling anyone about who the real villains are here.”
“You’ve had middling success, and you think that should immediately translate into a shot at the Tag Team Championship. Eh-eh. Let me ask you, boys: do you think you’ve earned that opportunity? I mean, honestly? Name one notable team you’ve got a win over. What’s that? You pinned Rob in a freaking Godzilla costume? Bravo, I’m not impressed. The reason you’re here isn’t because management is having some revelatory moment regarding how international talent should be treated. No, it can be laid at the feet of one Bradley Kane. And for that, I say only this: that’s TWO things I need to kill you for. Unfortunately, I can’t get at you…so Bushido, Dragon, you’ll have to be my substitutes.”
“You want to know why me and Rob got our shot at the titles before you did? Easy: we had scores to settle. Zane and Sense had been dragging my name in the mud. Rob was looking for revenge on behalf of Angel. That’s a little better than “we beat a few makeshift tag teams on Trauma, can we get a title shot please.” I’m perfectly fine with defending the titles against anyone that’s willing to step up and take a crack at ‘em. I’d just prefer if you guys had, I dunno, maybe had a #1 contender’s match beforehand. I’ve got Team Evil Demolition bitching about no opportunity too…hmm, maybe that much negativity in one place would have imploded the ring.”
“Rob’s fed up with being honorable. Thing is, he was never all that good at it. Me, I live and breathe honor. That’s who I am. I’m the Boy Scout of nCw. And I’m not going to abandon that just because you two are irritating me. My principles are not compromisable. You two claim to be restoring honor to the nCw Tag Titles by taking them out of the hands of some Americans like me and Rob? Nice try, boys. We will defend these titles with every ounce of energy in our bodies. And if you’re afraid management will shuffle you back into obscurity after Sunday, fear not…for your names will live in INfamy forevermore.”[/i]
__________________________________
We open on Rob and Andrew at a bar. Andrew’s sticking to Coke, remembering the last time he went out drinking with Rob. Diamond, on the other hand, is drowning his sorrows in anything he can get his hands on. Andrew looks over at him, shaking his head.
“Dude, no offense, but you look like crap.”
Rob smirks at Andrew, nodding and sighing.
“I feel like crap. I mean, I made that bet months ago. Back when her and Bird-Boy were still going at it. I never thought that son of a bitch Steve would mention it to her…”
Andrew nods, getting a brief grin.
“Technically I beat all three of you to the punch…yeah, bad timing. Rob, you’ve gotta say something to her. There’s got to be some way you can convince her you’re being honest. You’re Rob Motherloving Diamond! You can do anything!”
Diamond looks weary, sitting up a bit straighter and slugging back another measure of his drink.
“Andy, I appreciate it, but that’s the problem. I’ve got that well-deserved reputation as a liar, a womanizer and a bastard. Not that I usually mind that, it’s just a bit inconvenient when you’re trying to convince the woman you love that you sincerely care about her. She’s more than just another notch on the bedpost, y’know? She’s…she’s special. She’s funny, and she’s awesome, and she’s geeky…”
Andrew nods, shaking his head ruefully.
“You’re drunk, this is starting to sound like a speech I’d give. Rob…I’m definitely not the first guy to turn to for relationship advice. Hell, I’m having trouble with how I feel about Danielle. Just…as long as I’ve known her, Z’s had zero tolerance for bull****. Be 100% honest with her. About how you feel, what you did…basically, throw yourself upon the mercy of the court. I can’t think of much else you could do…maybe talk to Adam and Gib?”
Rob snorts.
“You kidding me? They’d take my damn head off, and then Gib would probably do something disturbing to my corpse. Dude…I don’t know. I probably won’t remember a damn thing that’s going on here in the morning. I just needed to vent. I…I can’t imagine what’ll happen if I can’t get her back. I envy you, man. You don’t have any of this **** to go through.”
Jacobsen grins at his partner, shaking his head and chuckling.
“It’s a bit ironic, you and Steve giving me crap for not being in a relationship and having this happen…look, man. You show up on Sunday, and we’ll take out our frustrations on Bushido and El Dragon de Overspending, alright? Right now, I think you should go home, get some rest, and be ready to do what only INfamous can do on Sunday. Deal?”
Rob sighs, nodding his head and waving Andrew off.
“Deal…see you Sunday, man.”
Andrew stands, glancing back at Rob, and sighs, shaking his head as he walks off into the night. He mutters one last thing as we fade out on him.
“God, let her listen…”
