Post by Andrew Jacobsen on May 13, 2012 1:16:43 GMT -6
Open on Andrew sitting at Joël Robuchon’s in the MGM Grand with Danielle, both of them dressed up in formal clothing, a surprising change for Andrew. Danielle smiles over at him, holding a glass of wine in her right hand, and leans in, speaking with a sultry, amused quality to her voice.
”So, A Night to Remember in Las Vegas. It’s been quite the year, Andrew. Ups and downs, highs and lows…and you’ve survived them all. I don’t know if I like the whole ‘eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow someone dies’ thing, but I do enjoy this place. I’m surprised you were able to get a reservation. How far in advance did you book this?”
Andrew, for his part, is looking somewhere into the distance, preoccupied with something. He looks up, startled out of his reverie by Danielle’s question.
”Huh? Oh…I was, uh…I booked it a long time ago. The moment I knew we were coming here. I, uh…didn’t know who I’d be going with…I’m glad it’s you, though. Looking back on the year, I’m really, really glad it’s you…”
Danielle pauses, not sure she wants to process what he’s just said, and moves on, smiling again.
”Yeah…I thought you’d be happier. I mean, you’ve been obsessing over Will, and you finally got your match with him. You should be excited. Hell, I’m excited for you and I’m not even involved in the match.”
Andrew shakes his head morosely.
”Yet. All it takes is Will getting desperate, and I could have to pull him off you…or Rick. God, if he sends Rick after you…I’m not going to let you get hurt, but what’ll he do if I stop Rick from following his orders? Lord, what happens when I win? I don’t want to put my brother out of work because Washington’s a petty son of a bitch. Dammit, this is gonna eat me alive…”
Danielle shakes her head, reaching over and taking Andrew’s hand comfortingly. She squeezes his hand, shaking her head.
”If Will fires Rick because he didn’t win, that’d be wrongful termination. You shouldn’t be so worked up. It’s a big match, but it’s not the end of the world. Relax, enjoy the food, and enjoy Vegas. Tomorrow is work. Tonight, we’re gonna have some fun. Okay?”
Andrew nods slowly, seemingly unconvinced, but he sits back, sighing. Danielle smiles, sipping her wine and indicating Andrew’s glass to him. He sighs, nodding, and picks it up, taking a sip. He blinks, nodding before taking another sip. Danielle smiles broadly, nodding.
”See? It’s good wine. Now relax. I bought tickets to the Blue Man Group after this, which should be fun. Have some good food, have a good time…I know you didn’t get to enjoy it last time, even if you spent One Night in Hyrule, but—“
Andrew’s head snaps up and he fixes Danielle with a murderous glare, a hasty explanation dying in Chase’s throat. He speaks to her in an icy tone, barely restrained rage straining to break through at any moment.
”Danielle, if you so much as make light of that again, I don’t care who you are, it won’t end well. You can enjoy the reservation, and the tab. I’m going to go try to get my mind off things…wouldn’t look good if I got arrested for creating a public disturbance. Enjoy the damn wine.”
He stands up, whirling on his heel, and walks away, several patrons watching him go and murmuring to themselves about the likely cause of such an outburst. A few of them look at Danielle, who’s still sitting there in stunned shock watching Jacobsen’s receding form. A whisper escapes her lips as we fade to black.
”Andrew…”
”The biggest night of the year on the nCw calendar is A Night to Remember. People wait all year for the chance to be on this show. It’s an event so huge, we had to have an entire Collision just to contain the madness of the preshow. And here I am, for the third time. Two years ago, I stole the show in Madison Square Garden. One year ago, I was consigned to Wired Hell. And this time, this time I’m here with purpose. This time, I come in with one thought on my mind, one ceaseless mantra etching itself into my skull.”
“Will Washington must suffer.”
“Why? It’s very simple, but for those who weren’t following, and let’s face it, it’s been inscribed thoroughly onto the psyche of a good chunk of the audience that Andrew Jacobsen is a bland cardboard cutout whose personal goings-on are about as interesting as watching switchboard operators take calls during a PBS telethon, here’s a recap. Will Washington came back to nCw and decided that I needed help. He wanted to make me, at least in his mind, better. Which meant more ruthless. Which meant more conniving. Which meant more underhanded. Which meant just. Like. Him.”
“And I resisted. Oh, I resisted every step of the way. I refused to listen to him when he called for the boot on the throat of anyone who stood in my way. I refused to take advantage when he interfered and kicked Steve Awesome in the head at Sovereign. I fought back. He’d say I cost him the main event slot. I say I paid him back for two months of hounding, two months of constant heckling from the sidelines. And so he decided, as is usual for that smarmy son of a bitch, to take it to the next level.”
“He went after my family.”
“Enter my brother, Rick. He got laid off back in late January, and he’s been having trouble finding a job. I offered to help him with his problems, but he shut me down. Rick’s a proud guy. He wanted to earn the money. The moment that heartless parasite found out about it, he pounced. Hired him as his bodyguard…just so he could taunt me. I don’t begrudge Rick. I’m sure Uncle Pennybags is paying him well. I’m pissed at Will, because seeing what he puts Rick through this is all just to screw with both of us. Rick can’t do anything about it. His family needs the money. Me? That’s a whole different story.”
“And there isn’t a ***damn thing I wouldn’t do to Will Washington right now. See, he wanted me to get mean. He wanted a ruthless, angry, cutthroat Andrew Jacobsen. Well by God he’s getting it. He wants me to be a vicious son of a bitch? You got a taste of that last week. Because even with Rick to hide behind, even with all of your preparations, I got you. I made the boy who would be king bleed. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to put you out of your misery and out of my family’s lives.”
“That’s why this is so important to me. If you had just kicked me in the head, I’d be irate, but I wouldn’t have gone to these lengths. You took it that step further. You went after family. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve never been above bringing someone’s family into things. I don’t want to dredge up names that should be left in revered peace, but…Cari Cross. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“My point is this. Will, you’re a sick motherf*cker. You do what you want, when you want, with no regard for who gets hurt, all to fuel your own ego. You act like you’re some tortured martyr, when time and time again you’ve shown that the act you put on is that of the decent man. I’m the exact opposite. I tried being the blackheart once. I tried to act like the sort of man you are: cutthroat, not caring who I hurt, willing to do anything to win. It didn’t work. Because that’s not the part I’m meant to play. I’m not the villain, Will…and you’re not the hero.”
“That’s one thing I always loved about professional wrestling: there’s a hero and there’s a villain. A good guy and a bad guy. Someone you can pull for. Yeah, I’m the kind of guy that likes it when I can find someone who isn’t an asshole with a thin veneer of crowd-pleaser. It’s why I’m the guy I am today. I want to be someone who rises above. You want me to embrace this hateful ideology, and I just can’t. It’s not who I am, deep down inside. But this stopped being about ideology a long time ago. Now it’s just you twisting the knife for your own amusement.”
“I promise you, with God, the entire MGM Grand Arena and each and every person watching at home as my witnesses, I will beat ten kinds of tar out of you. This isn’t for me. This is for Rick. This is for everyone who’s ever had their family screwed with like this. And this is for everyone who needed a hero and only got a bastard like you, Will. So bring your best…I’ll bring mine…and I promise you, the best man will win.”
Andrew walks back down the hall towards his hotel room, the dim lights of morning beginning to filter in through the constant neon glow of Vegas. He fishes his room key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and slipping in quietly. He looks around, not seeing Danielle anywhere. Confused, Andrew steps fully in, closing the door behind himself. He walks into the room, seeing a piece of paper folded on Dani’s bed. Andrew walks over, grabbing the paper and sitting down. He unfolds it, reading the note.
Dear Andrew,
By the time you read this I’ll probably already be out of Las Vegas. For months now, I’ve noticed an increasingly erratic pattern of behavior in you. You’ve gotten more impulsive, more vindictive, more angry. It’s a disturbing trend, and one I tried to combat. I spent more time with you, trying to get you to relax and not take everything so seriously.
Obviously, I was unsuccessful. So while you’re out partying it up in whatever manner you choose, I’ve decided that I don’t need this sort of undue stress in my life. Andrew, you’re my friend, but I’ve tried to help you and you clearly don’t want to be helped. If this is the sort of life you want, then there’s nothing I can do to dissuade you from it.
Henceforth, I, Danielle Chase, officially tender my resignation as your image and business consultant. No further payments need to be rendered, and no further communications or documents need to be exchanged. As of today, Sunday, May 13, 2012, the working agreement between Chase Consulting, Ltd. and Andrew Jacobsen is rendered null and void, pursuant to Section 5, Subsection 4a, regarding Premature Termination of Services.
I’ll be watching, Andrew. Maybe you’ll become a better man. I certainly hope so. But I can’t waste any more time trying to make something impossible happen.
Good luck,
Danielle Chase[/color]
Andrew looks at the letter, rereading it in disbelief. His hand flies to the room phone, dialing the front desk.
”Hello? Hi, this is Andrew Jacobsen in room 381, I was wondering if the other person in my room checked out…when?...last night…did she say anything?...sir, please tell me this is some sort of sick joke. Tell me Ashton Kutcher’s gonna jump out of the closet and tell me I’ve been Punk’d or something…okay…thank you for your help…sorry for bothering you…”
Andrew slams the phone back on the cradle, falling back onto the bed. He stares at the ceiling, guilt etched across his face, and rolls onto his side, staring out the window at the strip below. The shot pans behind him, Andrew silhouetted against the Las Vegas skyline. After a moment, he begins shaking silently, his free hand clenching tightly into a fist, and we fade to black on one word, whispered in an agonized, emotionally unstable voice.
"Washington..."
”So, A Night to Remember in Las Vegas. It’s been quite the year, Andrew. Ups and downs, highs and lows…and you’ve survived them all. I don’t know if I like the whole ‘eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow someone dies’ thing, but I do enjoy this place. I’m surprised you were able to get a reservation. How far in advance did you book this?”
Andrew, for his part, is looking somewhere into the distance, preoccupied with something. He looks up, startled out of his reverie by Danielle’s question.
”Huh? Oh…I was, uh…I booked it a long time ago. The moment I knew we were coming here. I, uh…didn’t know who I’d be going with…I’m glad it’s you, though. Looking back on the year, I’m really, really glad it’s you…”
Danielle pauses, not sure she wants to process what he’s just said, and moves on, smiling again.
”Yeah…I thought you’d be happier. I mean, you’ve been obsessing over Will, and you finally got your match with him. You should be excited. Hell, I’m excited for you and I’m not even involved in the match.”
Andrew shakes his head morosely.
”Yet. All it takes is Will getting desperate, and I could have to pull him off you…or Rick. God, if he sends Rick after you…I’m not going to let you get hurt, but what’ll he do if I stop Rick from following his orders? Lord, what happens when I win? I don’t want to put my brother out of work because Washington’s a petty son of a bitch. Dammit, this is gonna eat me alive…”
Danielle shakes her head, reaching over and taking Andrew’s hand comfortingly. She squeezes his hand, shaking her head.
”If Will fires Rick because he didn’t win, that’d be wrongful termination. You shouldn’t be so worked up. It’s a big match, but it’s not the end of the world. Relax, enjoy the food, and enjoy Vegas. Tomorrow is work. Tonight, we’re gonna have some fun. Okay?”
Andrew nods slowly, seemingly unconvinced, but he sits back, sighing. Danielle smiles, sipping her wine and indicating Andrew’s glass to him. He sighs, nodding, and picks it up, taking a sip. He blinks, nodding before taking another sip. Danielle smiles broadly, nodding.
”See? It’s good wine. Now relax. I bought tickets to the Blue Man Group after this, which should be fun. Have some good food, have a good time…I know you didn’t get to enjoy it last time, even if you spent One Night in Hyrule, but—“
Andrew’s head snaps up and he fixes Danielle with a murderous glare, a hasty explanation dying in Chase’s throat. He speaks to her in an icy tone, barely restrained rage straining to break through at any moment.
”Danielle, if you so much as make light of that again, I don’t care who you are, it won’t end well. You can enjoy the reservation, and the tab. I’m going to go try to get my mind off things…wouldn’t look good if I got arrested for creating a public disturbance. Enjoy the damn wine.”
He stands up, whirling on his heel, and walks away, several patrons watching him go and murmuring to themselves about the likely cause of such an outburst. A few of them look at Danielle, who’s still sitting there in stunned shock watching Jacobsen’s receding form. A whisper escapes her lips as we fade to black.
”Andrew…”
”The biggest night of the year on the nCw calendar is A Night to Remember. People wait all year for the chance to be on this show. It’s an event so huge, we had to have an entire Collision just to contain the madness of the preshow. And here I am, for the third time. Two years ago, I stole the show in Madison Square Garden. One year ago, I was consigned to Wired Hell. And this time, this time I’m here with purpose. This time, I come in with one thought on my mind, one ceaseless mantra etching itself into my skull.”
“Will Washington must suffer.”
“Why? It’s very simple, but for those who weren’t following, and let’s face it, it’s been inscribed thoroughly onto the psyche of a good chunk of the audience that Andrew Jacobsen is a bland cardboard cutout whose personal goings-on are about as interesting as watching switchboard operators take calls during a PBS telethon, here’s a recap. Will Washington came back to nCw and decided that I needed help. He wanted to make me, at least in his mind, better. Which meant more ruthless. Which meant more conniving. Which meant more underhanded. Which meant just. Like. Him.”
“And I resisted. Oh, I resisted every step of the way. I refused to listen to him when he called for the boot on the throat of anyone who stood in my way. I refused to take advantage when he interfered and kicked Steve Awesome in the head at Sovereign. I fought back. He’d say I cost him the main event slot. I say I paid him back for two months of hounding, two months of constant heckling from the sidelines. And so he decided, as is usual for that smarmy son of a bitch, to take it to the next level.”
“He went after my family.”
“Enter my brother, Rick. He got laid off back in late January, and he’s been having trouble finding a job. I offered to help him with his problems, but he shut me down. Rick’s a proud guy. He wanted to earn the money. The moment that heartless parasite found out about it, he pounced. Hired him as his bodyguard…just so he could taunt me. I don’t begrudge Rick. I’m sure Uncle Pennybags is paying him well. I’m pissed at Will, because seeing what he puts Rick through this is all just to screw with both of us. Rick can’t do anything about it. His family needs the money. Me? That’s a whole different story.”
“And there isn’t a ***damn thing I wouldn’t do to Will Washington right now. See, he wanted me to get mean. He wanted a ruthless, angry, cutthroat Andrew Jacobsen. Well by God he’s getting it. He wants me to be a vicious son of a bitch? You got a taste of that last week. Because even with Rick to hide behind, even with all of your preparations, I got you. I made the boy who would be king bleed. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to put you out of your misery and out of my family’s lives.”
“That’s why this is so important to me. If you had just kicked me in the head, I’d be irate, but I wouldn’t have gone to these lengths. You took it that step further. You went after family. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve never been above bringing someone’s family into things. I don’t want to dredge up names that should be left in revered peace, but…Cari Cross. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“My point is this. Will, you’re a sick motherf*cker. You do what you want, when you want, with no regard for who gets hurt, all to fuel your own ego. You act like you’re some tortured martyr, when time and time again you’ve shown that the act you put on is that of the decent man. I’m the exact opposite. I tried being the blackheart once. I tried to act like the sort of man you are: cutthroat, not caring who I hurt, willing to do anything to win. It didn’t work. Because that’s not the part I’m meant to play. I’m not the villain, Will…and you’re not the hero.”
“That’s one thing I always loved about professional wrestling: there’s a hero and there’s a villain. A good guy and a bad guy. Someone you can pull for. Yeah, I’m the kind of guy that likes it when I can find someone who isn’t an asshole with a thin veneer of crowd-pleaser. It’s why I’m the guy I am today. I want to be someone who rises above. You want me to embrace this hateful ideology, and I just can’t. It’s not who I am, deep down inside. But this stopped being about ideology a long time ago. Now it’s just you twisting the knife for your own amusement.”
“I promise you, with God, the entire MGM Grand Arena and each and every person watching at home as my witnesses, I will beat ten kinds of tar out of you. This isn’t for me. This is for Rick. This is for everyone who’s ever had their family screwed with like this. And this is for everyone who needed a hero and only got a bastard like you, Will. So bring your best…I’ll bring mine…and I promise you, the best man will win.”
Andrew walks back down the hall towards his hotel room, the dim lights of morning beginning to filter in through the constant neon glow of Vegas. He fishes his room key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and slipping in quietly. He looks around, not seeing Danielle anywhere. Confused, Andrew steps fully in, closing the door behind himself. He walks into the room, seeing a piece of paper folded on Dani’s bed. Andrew walks over, grabbing the paper and sitting down. He unfolds it, reading the note.
Dear Andrew,
By the time you read this I’ll probably already be out of Las Vegas. For months now, I’ve noticed an increasingly erratic pattern of behavior in you. You’ve gotten more impulsive, more vindictive, more angry. It’s a disturbing trend, and one I tried to combat. I spent more time with you, trying to get you to relax and not take everything so seriously.
Obviously, I was unsuccessful. So while you’re out partying it up in whatever manner you choose, I’ve decided that I don’t need this sort of undue stress in my life. Andrew, you’re my friend, but I’ve tried to help you and you clearly don’t want to be helped. If this is the sort of life you want, then there’s nothing I can do to dissuade you from it.
Henceforth, I, Danielle Chase, officially tender my resignation as your image and business consultant. No further payments need to be rendered, and no further communications or documents need to be exchanged. As of today, Sunday, May 13, 2012, the working agreement between Chase Consulting, Ltd. and Andrew Jacobsen is rendered null and void, pursuant to Section 5, Subsection 4a, regarding Premature Termination of Services.
I’ll be watching, Andrew. Maybe you’ll become a better man. I certainly hope so. But I can’t waste any more time trying to make something impossible happen.
Good luck,
Danielle Chase[/color]
Andrew looks at the letter, rereading it in disbelief. His hand flies to the room phone, dialing the front desk.
”Hello? Hi, this is Andrew Jacobsen in room 381, I was wondering if the other person in my room checked out…when?...last night…did she say anything?...sir, please tell me this is some sort of sick joke. Tell me Ashton Kutcher’s gonna jump out of the closet and tell me I’ve been Punk’d or something…okay…thank you for your help…sorry for bothering you…”
Andrew slams the phone back on the cradle, falling back onto the bed. He stares at the ceiling, guilt etched across his face, and rolls onto his side, staring out the window at the strip below. The shot pans behind him, Andrew silhouetted against the Las Vegas skyline. After a moment, he begins shaking silently, his free hand clenching tightly into a fist, and we fade to black on one word, whispered in an agonized, emotionally unstable voice.
"Washington..."
