Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jul 21, 2012 17:02:59 GMT -6
”Cyrus Daniels, you are a coward. I mean that in the most sincere of manners. You are a craven coward who puts up a tough front but when presented with real challenges, including a pair of champions, real champions…you immediately fall back on some half-baked rant about racism and the white man holding the black man down. You seem to have this narrative planned out in your head, where Xavier plants a kick between my eyes and leaves me to be picked apart by you two as revenge for a win…I dunno. I’d be pretty insulted if you implied that about me.”
“See, unlike you, I have faith in Black Jesus. I know that he’s a competitor first, and a fair, honestly fought win isn’t going to eat at him like it would with you. I had no qualms about shutting him down because we both know that every match matters, every moment is important between those ropes. You know what amuses me the most out of this whole routine you tried to run on us? You claimed that beating you would be worthless. So why the hell should I care if we beat you?”
“No, it’s a legit question. If you yourself have said ‘beating us means nothing’, then why should we care about you or take you as threats? Between that sort of talk from you and what I saw out of Kingsley, I’m starting to wonder if you’re really the toughest the Land Down Under could have sent…God knows you’re not the smartest. If you really want to be Tag Team Champions…some advice, from a former champion: don’t approach matches like this. Don’t underestimate your opponents in any way. I made that mistake last week, and I got my face driven into the canvas.”
“Cyrus, do you know what I see in my partner? I see an idol. I see a man I envy, someone I respect, because he has done something that I haven’t and I desperately want to: he was World Champion. He was the man, the king of the mountain, the top of the heap. I envy that every day of my life, and I strive to prove that I’m worthy of a shot each and every time I step between those ropes. I don’t see Xavier Williams as a stereotype. I see him as a fighter, a competitor…the sort of man I would take in my corner ten times out of ten.”
“I don’t see a stereotype or a fool. I see a man who’s here to kick ass and take names, plain and simple. You, however, see him as a victim of oppression. You’re trying to encourage him to rally against the perceived oppression of those in power…no no no, he’s not oppressed. It’s not even been a month, you morons. Everyone, even the best take time to get into their groove. That's why I see the man he is at heart, rather than his mistakes..."
“As for you two? I see an absentminded but overall cheery behemoth and a surly, nihilistic, self-defeating giant. You’re big men, the both of you. And that immediately warrants respect, as does how you’ve acquitted yourselves in the ring. But frankly put, we…we have more experience in the ring than you do. We’re used to wrestling, how it works, what you need to do to be successful…I have my faith in Xavier Williams. I have faith in myself. Do you have faith in yourselves? From where I’m sitting, it looks like only one of you does…”
“I don’t want to go into battle against a half-ready opponent. I want to be able to know I took on my enemies at 100% and was able to triumph. So for my sake and for your own, have a little faith. Nobody likes kicking someone while they’re down…well, you might, I don’t know what your likes and dislikes are. Give me a break, it’s a wrestling match, not the damn Dating Game. And Xavier? You bring your best. I’ll bring mine. And damn it, may the best men win.”
Open on Andrew Jacobsen in the gym, across a ring from what appears to be a sparring partner. Andrew moves in and locks up with the other man, quickly taking him down with a belly to back takedown and transitioning into an ankle lock. He has it hooked in for a few seconds, and the man is perilously close to tapping, when he instead releases the hold, flips the man onto his back, and transitions into the Sharpshooter. Almost before Andrew manages to lock in the hold, the other man begins tapping out, and Andrew releases it, standing in disgust as the other man rolls out of the ring. He looks over to him, speaking with the tone of an irritated and bored individual.
”Got anyone else, Sparky? Anyone that could actually give me a challenge?”
He nods, scrambling to the locker room and beckoning someone out. A taller, bulkier man, easily six-four and 250 pounds, walks out, cracking his neck and grinning. Andrew nods, running a hand through his hair and backing into a corner. The big man walks into the ring, slipping between the ropes. The third man acting as a referee signals them to start, and once again, Andrew moves in for a lock-up. This time, however, the bigger man is able to use his strength and wrench him into a side headlock. Andrew backs up to the ropes, shoving him off. He drops down beneath the man as he charges back, jumping up and catching him with a beautiful dropkick as his opponent returns. Andrew hits the ropes, delivering a flying forearm that drops the man as he rises, and kips to his feet, climbing the turnbuckle and leaping off with a diving elbow drop straight to the chest. He hauls him up and hooks a leg, bringing him over for a Perfect-Plex! The referee counts! 1! 2! 3! He signals the end of the ‘match’, and Andrew lets the man go, rolling to his feet with annoyance etched on his face.
”Okay, that’s what, four people? Come on! Give me a real challenge! Feed me more!”
A ripple of mocking laughter comes from behind him, and he turns angrily to see both Emma Danielson and Danielle Chase standing about fifteen feet from the ring. Andrew slides under the bottom rope, eyeing them both suspiciously as he walks over.
”And what’s so funny?”
Emma replies flippantly, as if she’s ignoring his anger.
”How ‘bout that you’re in there shouting stuff like ‘Feed me more’ and sulking over one mistake as usual? If you want to win, that ain’t the way to go about it, Skippy. Try, y’know, pulling your crap together and focusing instead of throwing a fit. Sound like a plan?”
Andrew opens his mouth to protest, but Danielle cuts him off, shrugging apologetically.
”She’s right, Andy. You flipped your lid…it’s one match. Get a grip. You wanna beat Criminal Intent? You wanna start climbing the ranks again? Then you better get your act together. Beating up rookies is not going to fix any problems you’ve got. There’s nothing you can do right now but…please, for the love of God, calm down and stop freaking out.”
Emma grins at her friend, and says the two magic words recognized the world over.
”I’m buying.”
Andrew looks over to her at that, and after a few moments of hesitation, a grin spreads across his face.
”…dammit, how do you know how to calm me down? Alright, let’s grab a drink…but next time you want to talk, mocking me ain’t a great way to go about it.”
Emma grins, walking over and ruffling Andrew’s hair, which he annoyedly fixes.
”Got your attention, didn’t it? Come on, I don’t like how that one guy is leering at me.”
Emma grabs Andrew’s arm, hauling him towards the door against his protests. He yanks his arm away, walking towards the locker room with obscenities under his breath. Emma grins, patting Danielle on the back as the two ladies walk towards the door. Fade.
“See, unlike you, I have faith in Black Jesus. I know that he’s a competitor first, and a fair, honestly fought win isn’t going to eat at him like it would with you. I had no qualms about shutting him down because we both know that every match matters, every moment is important between those ropes. You know what amuses me the most out of this whole routine you tried to run on us? You claimed that beating you would be worthless. So why the hell should I care if we beat you?”
“No, it’s a legit question. If you yourself have said ‘beating us means nothing’, then why should we care about you or take you as threats? Between that sort of talk from you and what I saw out of Kingsley, I’m starting to wonder if you’re really the toughest the Land Down Under could have sent…God knows you’re not the smartest. If you really want to be Tag Team Champions…some advice, from a former champion: don’t approach matches like this. Don’t underestimate your opponents in any way. I made that mistake last week, and I got my face driven into the canvas.”
“Cyrus, do you know what I see in my partner? I see an idol. I see a man I envy, someone I respect, because he has done something that I haven’t and I desperately want to: he was World Champion. He was the man, the king of the mountain, the top of the heap. I envy that every day of my life, and I strive to prove that I’m worthy of a shot each and every time I step between those ropes. I don’t see Xavier Williams as a stereotype. I see him as a fighter, a competitor…the sort of man I would take in my corner ten times out of ten.”
“I don’t see a stereotype or a fool. I see a man who’s here to kick ass and take names, plain and simple. You, however, see him as a victim of oppression. You’re trying to encourage him to rally against the perceived oppression of those in power…no no no, he’s not oppressed. It’s not even been a month, you morons. Everyone, even the best take time to get into their groove. That's why I see the man he is at heart, rather than his mistakes..."
“As for you two? I see an absentminded but overall cheery behemoth and a surly, nihilistic, self-defeating giant. You’re big men, the both of you. And that immediately warrants respect, as does how you’ve acquitted yourselves in the ring. But frankly put, we…we have more experience in the ring than you do. We’re used to wrestling, how it works, what you need to do to be successful…I have my faith in Xavier Williams. I have faith in myself. Do you have faith in yourselves? From where I’m sitting, it looks like only one of you does…”
“I don’t want to go into battle against a half-ready opponent. I want to be able to know I took on my enemies at 100% and was able to triumph. So for my sake and for your own, have a little faith. Nobody likes kicking someone while they’re down…well, you might, I don’t know what your likes and dislikes are. Give me a break, it’s a wrestling match, not the damn Dating Game. And Xavier? You bring your best. I’ll bring mine. And damn it, may the best men win.”
Open on Andrew Jacobsen in the gym, across a ring from what appears to be a sparring partner. Andrew moves in and locks up with the other man, quickly taking him down with a belly to back takedown and transitioning into an ankle lock. He has it hooked in for a few seconds, and the man is perilously close to tapping, when he instead releases the hold, flips the man onto his back, and transitions into the Sharpshooter. Almost before Andrew manages to lock in the hold, the other man begins tapping out, and Andrew releases it, standing in disgust as the other man rolls out of the ring. He looks over to him, speaking with the tone of an irritated and bored individual.
”Got anyone else, Sparky? Anyone that could actually give me a challenge?”
He nods, scrambling to the locker room and beckoning someone out. A taller, bulkier man, easily six-four and 250 pounds, walks out, cracking his neck and grinning. Andrew nods, running a hand through his hair and backing into a corner. The big man walks into the ring, slipping between the ropes. The third man acting as a referee signals them to start, and once again, Andrew moves in for a lock-up. This time, however, the bigger man is able to use his strength and wrench him into a side headlock. Andrew backs up to the ropes, shoving him off. He drops down beneath the man as he charges back, jumping up and catching him with a beautiful dropkick as his opponent returns. Andrew hits the ropes, delivering a flying forearm that drops the man as he rises, and kips to his feet, climbing the turnbuckle and leaping off with a diving elbow drop straight to the chest. He hauls him up and hooks a leg, bringing him over for a Perfect-Plex! The referee counts! 1! 2! 3! He signals the end of the ‘match’, and Andrew lets the man go, rolling to his feet with annoyance etched on his face.
”Okay, that’s what, four people? Come on! Give me a real challenge! Feed me more!”
A ripple of mocking laughter comes from behind him, and he turns angrily to see both Emma Danielson and Danielle Chase standing about fifteen feet from the ring. Andrew slides under the bottom rope, eyeing them both suspiciously as he walks over.
”And what’s so funny?”
Emma replies flippantly, as if she’s ignoring his anger.
”How ‘bout that you’re in there shouting stuff like ‘Feed me more’ and sulking over one mistake as usual? If you want to win, that ain’t the way to go about it, Skippy. Try, y’know, pulling your crap together and focusing instead of throwing a fit. Sound like a plan?”
Andrew opens his mouth to protest, but Danielle cuts him off, shrugging apologetically.
”She’s right, Andy. You flipped your lid…it’s one match. Get a grip. You wanna beat Criminal Intent? You wanna start climbing the ranks again? Then you better get your act together. Beating up rookies is not going to fix any problems you’ve got. There’s nothing you can do right now but…please, for the love of God, calm down and stop freaking out.”
Emma grins at her friend, and says the two magic words recognized the world over.
”I’m buying.”
Andrew looks over to her at that, and after a few moments of hesitation, a grin spreads across his face.
”…dammit, how do you know how to calm me down? Alright, let’s grab a drink…but next time you want to talk, mocking me ain’t a great way to go about it.”
Emma grins, walking over and ruffling Andrew’s hair, which he annoyedly fixes.
”Got your attention, didn’t it? Come on, I don’t like how that one guy is leering at me.”
Emma grabs Andrew’s arm, hauling him towards the door against his protests. He yanks his arm away, walking towards the locker room with obscenities under his breath. Emma grins, patting Danielle on the back as the two ladies walk towards the door. Fade.
