Post by The Ace on May 11, 2012 11:22:43 GMT -6
The scene opens on Jake Conway walking through a cemetary, he is dressed in a white shirt, with a black tie and blazer. His blonde hair is neatly tied back, and he has some shades on as he addresses the camera.
Curtis, you took what happened to GQ and Obsidian a little too personally, perhaps it was because the line between what is strictly business and what is more personal has always been a little bit blurred for you, or perhaps it was because of something far more basic, far more human. Perhaps it scared you Curtis just how easily I could take the remnants of the entourage you've always surrounded yourself with and cripple them - not to make a point, more simply because they were there, and because I could and it amused me.
It was nothing personal Curtis, I was just being a rabid dog of this 'war' you're now fixated upon fighting and unfortunately for you, I had no leash up my ass keeping me from doing whatever the hell I wanted. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, and if you insist on going to war with me, that was nothing more than simply your first lesson:
You cannot pick the victim.
In times of war Curtis, you cannot pick the casualty, you cannot decide who lives and who dies. Some call it fate, others call it destiny, I call it simply luck. If you want to wage a war with me Curtis, then you better arm yourself. A War Game is a game of chance like any other, and if that's the game you want to play Curtis, take your chances, roll the dice, spin the wheel...
Is that really the game you want to play Curtis?
If all this ever was to you was a game, you wouldn't have gone to the lengths you did, if all this was was just another match to you, you'd have slapped on that blonde little wig of yours and laughed yourself silly about how you were going to bang me over and over again and that would have been enough to get you through until the next paycheck. But it isn't, is it Curt? This isn't just a match, this isn't just about the two hired guns of two power hungry sister in laws going at it to win favour with the corporate suits in their comfy little offices. This isn't about the politics of who runs this company, we couldn't give a damn...at least not anymore...
No, now it really is personal.
So personal infact that you went out of your way to track down and find my youngest brother last week, you knew that he'd be in town and you knew that just like the rest of my family, he's going to be in the front row this Sunday cheering me on as I return to my home away from home - the city where I made my nCw debut five years ago - Las Vegas. You made a tactical decision, you came up with a gameplan and a strategy for this war against me, and that's something your alter ego would never do. It was then that I realised this wasn't about being a wrestler to entertain the masses for you, this wasn't just another day at the offices of the Dirty Deal Protection Agency for Diamond Dallas Kanyon...
No, this was about being a man for Curtis Kanyon.
But why? Why now? What's changed? What nerve could I have possibly struck with you Kanyon for you to go so desperately and deliberately out of your way to guarantee that you had my attention. That I would indeed listen to you this time and not just randomly dismiss you as the court jester in the Knite family kingdom as I usually do?
The Ace stops and raises a quizzical eyebrow at the camera.
Then it hit me like a lead pipe to the gut...
The Ace drops to one knee infront of a grave, and then reaches into his left pocket inside his blazer and pulls out a familiar photograph....
This wasn't about wrestling anymore, this was about remorse...
The Ace takes off his shades and just stares at the picture of himself and his youngest brother Jason as he speaks.
This was the picture that started it all. This was the picture that hit you - Curtis Kanyon - harder than any roulette rake that I could ever wield. This picture reminded you of a brotherhood you have since lost, I remember your Enterprise Curt, I remember how extensive a social network you used to have in this business, and over time some of them did trickle their way into this company, but have since faded...
Ron Gibson...
Gone.
Obsidian...
Crippled.
GQ...
Comatose.
Christopher Kanyon...
Dead.
The Ace suddenly smirks as he looks up from the photo at the camera...
Consider this lesson number two, Curtis:
If you're going to make business personal, be prepared to go all in...
You didn't think I'd remember, did you? After all you've done a pretty bang up job of making sure nobody remembers your bigger brother, Christopher these last two years, but I remember. I remember because that insufferable son of a bitch almost broke my neck seven years ago in that Annhiliation Complex, not that I'm one to hold a grudge of course....
I just find it all rather sad that you choose not to remember your brother, at least not willingly, not until somebody steps up and reminds you of the fact that all the surrogate brothers you've tried to put in his place since, to fill the void he left behind, none of them have ever come close. You've done your best to ignore the harrowing loneliness of it all, you've tried to put on a brave face, slap on a blonde wig and march through the rest of your hollow life convincing yourself more than anybody else that you've truly put all that grief behind you...and just when you think you're happy with your station in this company and how well you've managed to turn your life around being hired as the personal bodyguard of the CEO of this company, some bastard with a brother who is still alive and well flaunts a photograph in your face and you snap...
How dare I remind you of a tragedy you just want to forget?
How dare I take each of your brothers in arms out?
You've made it your mission to try and get under my skin Kanyon, all in some vain attempt at retaliation, you've tried to dig deep and to find a noose with which to suffocate me, all because of a simple family photograph. A simple family picture of two brothers - two brothers who represent everything to you that you and Christopher used to be. He was the linchpin to your whole entourage, and you figured that if you took Jason out that I'd crumble, that I'd falter, that like you my only coping mechanism for dealing with tragedy would be to sink deeper into some previous incarnation, some previous alter ego that you could beat without breaking a sweat.
But I'm not like you, Curtis.
I don't hide from tragedy, I embrace it.
Perhaps you've always been a little jealous of the strong, stable family unit I have behind me, I can understand how such a thing can make a man like you envious of someone like me Curt, how it would make you want to hurt me, to break me down, to snap me back into that naive young rookie you remember from seven years ago. The one who didn't have a family of his own, the one who was chasing tail and getting nowhere fast, the one who was the running joke of an entire wrestling promotion...
In short the one who was more like you are now, Curtis.
See Kanyon, the difference between you and I is simply how far we're willing to go to exploit somebody's weakness, if I was like you and I wanted to sting you just enough to get your attention, I'd tell the world that DDK was just your way of trying to avoid the tragedy of losing a brother, and I'd leave it up to a team of psychiatrists to mull over how your other personality surfaced and how the conflict between the two that you've suffered at times is just a manifestation of you wrestling with your own grief even now two years down the line, but since I have the tools to dig a bit deeper, to really make it personal and to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, I'm not going to make it that easy for you Kanyon...
You wanted to make this personal sunshine, so let's get personal.
I could have gone after the easy targets, I could have gone after Esmerelda and your son Pablo, but since neither of us are joking around anymore, let me ask you this:
How long has it been since you've been here, Kanyon?
How long has it been since you've put flowers down here? How long has it been since you've come home to talk to your brother? Do you even care anymore? Do you even care that you've left him spinning in his grave? Does he know you were nCw World Champion at one point? Does he know that ever since that night you kissed Kelly in the ring, you've secretly been hoping she'd wake up and light that little torch you're carrying for her - the wife of your oh so very best friend, Adam Knite? Oh yes, don't think I haven't seen it in your eyes buddy, there's a reason why you take your job as her appointed protector so seriously, isn't there? The dirty little secret you've buried even deeper than the memory of your dear departed brother...but here's the kicker...you've got no chance in Hell with a woman as beautiful as that, no, not just because she's married, but rather because you're just a great lumbering five foot seven, two hundred sixy pound oaf who sometimes swings a lead pipe around and occassionally manages to hit something with it...
The Ace laughs as he sets the picture aside and reaches once again into the inside of his blazer and pulls out a single playing card, which he places face up but upside down on the grave, signalling he was about to deliver the death blow to the Kanyon family once again this Sunday.
Maybe you'll get lucky Kanyon, maybe Christopher will be looking down on you this Sunday and he'll reach out from the great beyond to stop the wheel just as it happens to spin to something that would work to your favour, or maybe just maybe, he just doesn't give a damn if you die either...
The Ace laughs as he collects the family picture from the side of the Kanyon grave and gets up, he sighs, bows his head in respect and puts his shades back on before walking off, just another mourner to everybody else, and we are left to focus on the headstone before it all inevitably fades away:
Curtis, you took what happened to GQ and Obsidian a little too personally, perhaps it was because the line between what is strictly business and what is more personal has always been a little bit blurred for you, or perhaps it was because of something far more basic, far more human. Perhaps it scared you Curtis just how easily I could take the remnants of the entourage you've always surrounded yourself with and cripple them - not to make a point, more simply because they were there, and because I could and it amused me.
It was nothing personal Curtis, I was just being a rabid dog of this 'war' you're now fixated upon fighting and unfortunately for you, I had no leash up my ass keeping me from doing whatever the hell I wanted. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, and if you insist on going to war with me, that was nothing more than simply your first lesson:
You cannot pick the victim.
In times of war Curtis, you cannot pick the casualty, you cannot decide who lives and who dies. Some call it fate, others call it destiny, I call it simply luck. If you want to wage a war with me Curtis, then you better arm yourself. A War Game is a game of chance like any other, and if that's the game you want to play Curtis, take your chances, roll the dice, spin the wheel...
Is that really the game you want to play Curtis?
If all this ever was to you was a game, you wouldn't have gone to the lengths you did, if all this was was just another match to you, you'd have slapped on that blonde little wig of yours and laughed yourself silly about how you were going to bang me over and over again and that would have been enough to get you through until the next paycheck. But it isn't, is it Curt? This isn't just a match, this isn't just about the two hired guns of two power hungry sister in laws going at it to win favour with the corporate suits in their comfy little offices. This isn't about the politics of who runs this company, we couldn't give a damn...at least not anymore...
No, now it really is personal.
So personal infact that you went out of your way to track down and find my youngest brother last week, you knew that he'd be in town and you knew that just like the rest of my family, he's going to be in the front row this Sunday cheering me on as I return to my home away from home - the city where I made my nCw debut five years ago - Las Vegas. You made a tactical decision, you came up with a gameplan and a strategy for this war against me, and that's something your alter ego would never do. It was then that I realised this wasn't about being a wrestler to entertain the masses for you, this wasn't just another day at the offices of the Dirty Deal Protection Agency for Diamond Dallas Kanyon...
No, this was about being a man for Curtis Kanyon.
But why? Why now? What's changed? What nerve could I have possibly struck with you Kanyon for you to go so desperately and deliberately out of your way to guarantee that you had my attention. That I would indeed listen to you this time and not just randomly dismiss you as the court jester in the Knite family kingdom as I usually do?
The Ace stops and raises a quizzical eyebrow at the camera.
Then it hit me like a lead pipe to the gut...
The Ace drops to one knee infront of a grave, and then reaches into his left pocket inside his blazer and pulls out a familiar photograph....
This wasn't about wrestling anymore, this was about remorse...
The Ace takes off his shades and just stares at the picture of himself and his youngest brother Jason as he speaks.
This was the picture that started it all. This was the picture that hit you - Curtis Kanyon - harder than any roulette rake that I could ever wield. This picture reminded you of a brotherhood you have since lost, I remember your Enterprise Curt, I remember how extensive a social network you used to have in this business, and over time some of them did trickle their way into this company, but have since faded...
Ron Gibson...
Gone.
Obsidian...
Crippled.
GQ...
Comatose.
Christopher Kanyon...
Dead.
The Ace suddenly smirks as he looks up from the photo at the camera...
Consider this lesson number two, Curtis:
If you're going to make business personal, be prepared to go all in...
You didn't think I'd remember, did you? After all you've done a pretty bang up job of making sure nobody remembers your bigger brother, Christopher these last two years, but I remember. I remember because that insufferable son of a bitch almost broke my neck seven years ago in that Annhiliation Complex, not that I'm one to hold a grudge of course....
I just find it all rather sad that you choose not to remember your brother, at least not willingly, not until somebody steps up and reminds you of the fact that all the surrogate brothers you've tried to put in his place since, to fill the void he left behind, none of them have ever come close. You've done your best to ignore the harrowing loneliness of it all, you've tried to put on a brave face, slap on a blonde wig and march through the rest of your hollow life convincing yourself more than anybody else that you've truly put all that grief behind you...and just when you think you're happy with your station in this company and how well you've managed to turn your life around being hired as the personal bodyguard of the CEO of this company, some bastard with a brother who is still alive and well flaunts a photograph in your face and you snap...
How dare I remind you of a tragedy you just want to forget?
How dare I take each of your brothers in arms out?
You've made it your mission to try and get under my skin Kanyon, all in some vain attempt at retaliation, you've tried to dig deep and to find a noose with which to suffocate me, all because of a simple family photograph. A simple family picture of two brothers - two brothers who represent everything to you that you and Christopher used to be. He was the linchpin to your whole entourage, and you figured that if you took Jason out that I'd crumble, that I'd falter, that like you my only coping mechanism for dealing with tragedy would be to sink deeper into some previous incarnation, some previous alter ego that you could beat without breaking a sweat.
But I'm not like you, Curtis.
I don't hide from tragedy, I embrace it.
Perhaps you've always been a little jealous of the strong, stable family unit I have behind me, I can understand how such a thing can make a man like you envious of someone like me Curt, how it would make you want to hurt me, to break me down, to snap me back into that naive young rookie you remember from seven years ago. The one who didn't have a family of his own, the one who was chasing tail and getting nowhere fast, the one who was the running joke of an entire wrestling promotion...
In short the one who was more like you are now, Curtis.
See Kanyon, the difference between you and I is simply how far we're willing to go to exploit somebody's weakness, if I was like you and I wanted to sting you just enough to get your attention, I'd tell the world that DDK was just your way of trying to avoid the tragedy of losing a brother, and I'd leave it up to a team of psychiatrists to mull over how your other personality surfaced and how the conflict between the two that you've suffered at times is just a manifestation of you wrestling with your own grief even now two years down the line, but since I have the tools to dig a bit deeper, to really make it personal and to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, I'm not going to make it that easy for you Kanyon...
You wanted to make this personal sunshine, so let's get personal.
I could have gone after the easy targets, I could have gone after Esmerelda and your son Pablo, but since neither of us are joking around anymore, let me ask you this:
How long has it been since you've been here, Kanyon?
How long has it been since you've put flowers down here? How long has it been since you've come home to talk to your brother? Do you even care anymore? Do you even care that you've left him spinning in his grave? Does he know you were nCw World Champion at one point? Does he know that ever since that night you kissed Kelly in the ring, you've secretly been hoping she'd wake up and light that little torch you're carrying for her - the wife of your oh so very best friend, Adam Knite? Oh yes, don't think I haven't seen it in your eyes buddy, there's a reason why you take your job as her appointed protector so seriously, isn't there? The dirty little secret you've buried even deeper than the memory of your dear departed brother...but here's the kicker...you've got no chance in Hell with a woman as beautiful as that, no, not just because she's married, but rather because you're just a great lumbering five foot seven, two hundred sixy pound oaf who sometimes swings a lead pipe around and occassionally manages to hit something with it...
The Ace laughs as he sets the picture aside and reaches once again into the inside of his blazer and pulls out a single playing card, which he places face up but upside down on the grave, signalling he was about to deliver the death blow to the Kanyon family once again this Sunday.
Maybe you'll get lucky Kanyon, maybe Christopher will be looking down on you this Sunday and he'll reach out from the great beyond to stop the wheel just as it happens to spin to something that would work to your favour, or maybe just maybe, he just doesn't give a damn if you die either...
The Ace laughs as he collects the family picture from the side of the Kanyon grave and gets up, he sighs, bows his head in respect and puts his shades back on before walking off, just another mourner to everybody else, and we are left to focus on the headstone before it all inevitably fades away:
Christopher Kanyon
Beloved Brother
January 4th 1970 - April 2nd 2010
Beloved Brother
January 4th 1970 - April 2nd 2010
