Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Oct 27, 2012 17:24:04 GMT -6
”This is the match that they wanted to see. Does anyone honestly think that the fans wanted to see Adam Knite swaggering into Road to the Gold, proclaiming that the King would take back his rightful crown? Did they want Lex Sense, portentiously shouting that he is the future and I was soon to be the past? Or how about Mike Laszlo, with his egocentrism proclaiming that all anyone was interested in was him? Alex Jones, screeching about what’s owed him and how much of a horrendous person I am? Of course not. This…this is the culmination of a roller-coaster ride that began eighteen months ago.”
“So for the third month in a row, I’m walking in the underdog. Everyone from the matchmakers to the popular consensus in the locker room holds that this is the end of the line for Andrew Jacobsen: World Champion. I’m sure that there are certain people that would love nothing more than to see me topple and crumble under the Florentine power of Roberto Verona, to see the revolution come full circle. He’s the lesser of their two evils, because they’d rather have him on top, even with his promises of flushing out the corruption in NCW’s veins, than suffer through another second of the Boy Scout.”
“We both have nasty reputations to overcome. For you, it’s a legacy of being a choker. It’s that nasty sensation that you might never be able to get the job done on the big stage. Well…you have. You’ve won big matches in your career: your National Title match against Jones, last week, you’ve stepped up and proven yourself when called upon. For me, it’s much the same…but a bit more specific. See, I don’t know if you’ve had your head under a rock for the last month, but apparently, I won this title…in a less-than-legitimate manner. Apparently, pinning someone’s shoulders to the mat in a one-on-one situation…it’s not enough for some people. But hey, according to some people pinning someone in a tag match while your partner holds onto their ankle is totally legit. Go figure.”
“I wanted this match. I wanted it because I knew that the only way I’d ever have a chance of shutting up some of the persistent doubters would be to take on a man who they had zero doubts about. You’ve unquestionably earned this opportunity. You’ve beaten the best of the best…and Mike Laszlo. So for me to be able to beat you, pin you down or make you tap that mat because you just can’t take it anymore…they’ll have no ability to question me. They won’t be able to say a damn thing. Because this is you and me, one on one. No excuses, no questions. Just two athletes, and one chance to prove our superiority.”
“I know some people would question what’s going on with you, Hannah and the Knites. Me? I don’t. Because I know what I’m seeing. I don’t think you’re capable of the sort of duplicity they’ve accused you of. You’re an honest man. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. Maybe Hannah has some sort of other ideas, but you’re the same revolutionary you’ve been from Day One. I’d like to think I know you well enough, from the time we’ve spent together and everything we’ve done, both as allies and enemies, to know that you’re not the sort of man that’d sell his soul for the World Title, and certainly not to her.”
“This match is much more than just a pay-per-view. It’s a tipping point. This match isn’t one I can call. I’d like to be able to say that I know I’ll win. Everything in my mind says that I’ll win. But you’re…that damn good. You’re good enough that I can’t write you off. With everything I know about you, because of everything you’ve done…you’re just as much of a challenge as Xander was. I know I can rise to this occasion…but that’s not what I need. I don’t need to rise only to fall again. I need to rise and stay there. I have to cement my place as a true champion. So when that bell rings, and we’re looking across the ring at each other…know that you’ll be getting nothing less than my best. This is war, Roberto. This is a war we both need to win…and neither of us can afford to lose. Good luck. We’ll both need it.”[/i]
Open on Andrew Jacobsen sitting alone, in his hotel room, staring at the wall. The NCW World Title is next to him on the bed, and he stares into the distance, haunted. The stubble on his face clearly indicates he hasn’t shaved for several days, and his bloodshot eyes and weary demeanor suggest that he hasn’t slept well for the same period. He shakes his head slowly, mournfully, and looks over to the World Title. Andrew takes it in one hand, chuckling hollowly as he brings it over and sets it in his lap.
”This was supposed to be it…this was supposed to be everything I ever wanted. I’m the best, right? Nope…can’t be the best with Alex Jones and Adam Knite and Mike Laszlo and Lex Sense and all the people running around who think they’re better than me. I guess that Gib was right…y’know, maybe I did get lucky…”
Andrew falls back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He’s distantly aware of a dull ache in his lower back, but he pushes it out of his mind, trying to refocus. He rubs his eyes, clearly in pain, and forces himself to stand back up, dropping the title on the bed and walking into the bathroom. Andrew idly flips the light switch on, looking up into the mirror. He stares at the haggard visage that confronts him, and shakes his head slowly.
”You’re a damn wreck…she’s done this before. She’ll be back…why are you letting this get to you so much, man? What the hell’s wrong with you? Clean yourself up, for the love of God. You’re the World Champion. You’ve got appearances to maintain.”
He chuckles to himself again, reaching over and grabbing a razor from a travel kit left sitting on the counter. Andrew sets about shaving, muttering to himself as he carefully trims up, getting back to the familiar clean-cut look we’re used to from the North Star.
”Listen to yourself. World Champion and you’re sitting in a hotel room, all alone, moping about how people are mean…is this really how you want to live your life? Of course not, y’moron. Get over it. You screwed up, and sometimes there isn’t any coming back from that. Just gotta focus on Verona…”
Andrew finishes trimming off the last bit of excess facial hair, reaching over and toweling off his face to reveal his usual appearance underneath. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing, and grabs a small squeeze bottle of hair gel, dispensing a bit and pushing his hair into something resembling a normal style. Andrew washes the excess off of his fingers, looking into the mirror again. Apart from his very tired eyes, Andrew looks every bit the part of the man he normally is. As he leans against the wall and rubs his eyes, a knock comes at the door. Andrew walks out of the bathroom, waving his hand dismissively as he opens the door.
”Give me a second, will ya…”
Andrew opens the door, and standing outside is Emma Danielson. Emma, in a stark contrast to her usual attire, is wearing a nice black blouse and formal tan pants. Her hair’s loose, and she has a paper grocery bag in one hand, with what appears to be a messenger bag slung over a shoulder. She smiles at Andrew, holding up the bags slightly.
”Hey, buddy. Heard about what happened with Chase, and I figured you might need some cheering up. Mind if I come in?”
Andrew blinks, shaking his head, and steps aside, gesturing for Emma to come in. She does so, and Andrew closes the door behind her. Emma looks around the comparatively small room, walking to the table and setting the bags on it. He shrugs apologetically, closing the bathroom door as he notices her confused expression.
”Booked it months ago. I had no idea I’d be in the World Title hunt, much less World Champion, so this was what made sense.”
Emma nods, pulling out the two chairs at the table. She pats the seat of one, looking to Andrew. AJ walks over, sitting down, and Emma sits in the other one. She starts reaching into the paper bag, pulling out two packages of Double Stuf Oreos. Andrew can’t help but crack a grin at that, and Emma smiles, pulling out two-liter bottles of Coke and Mountain Dew. Andrew lights up at the second, and Emma can’t help but snort at his reaction.
”What, did all those months of having to indulge Sydney’s Mello Yello habit send you into Mountain Dew withdrawal? Glad to see that sort of smile on your face again…I don’t like depressed Andrew.”
He chuckles, looking to the computer bag and raising an eyebrow.
”So what’s the plan, we eat Oreos, drink soda…Em, if you brought a bunch of wrestling DVDs, I appreciate it, but right now I just need a break…just a day or two when I don’t have to think about wrestling. I know, alert the media…”
Emma blinks, a sly grin slipping across her face. She unlatches the bag, speaking with a mischievous tone to her voice.
”Oh, who said anything about wrestling? I’ve got four words for you, buddy…”
She reaches into the bag, withdrawing several DVDs. All of them are various releases from the cult TV series Mystery Science Theater 3000. Andrew grins, and Emma grins back at him, finishing her sentence.
”We’ve got movie sign!”
Andrew shakes his head, groaning, and looks over to her, arching an eyebrow at the grin Emma’s wearing on her face.
”Em, tell me the therapist hasn’t broken you. I mean, nice clothing, breaking out Mystery Science Theater 3000, relentless cheering-up efforts…where’s the Emma I used to know?”
She shrugs, pulling out a laptop, and boots it up, grabbing a pair of plastic cups from the bag.
”Andy, if you mention that freakin’ therapist again, I promise you I’ll powerbomb you out the window. Every time I go there it’s like I stepped into a bizarro world where everything is all pastels and cheeriness. He can’t be human. My current theory is that he’s some freakish government experiment to create a human without any negative emotions. He escaped into the wild and is living undercover as an occupational therapist. Besides, I would have brought booze, but apparently when I wasn’t looking the terms of my contract were amended. I can’t drink 24 hours before a television broadcast, 48 before a pay-per-view. What kinda crap is that?”
Andrew grins, reaching over and grabbing the Mountain Dew bottle. He opens it, shaking his head.
”Yep, she’s back…hey, Em? Thanks. I’m pretty sure I would have done something I’d regret if I stayed cooped up here this entire time.”
Emma smiles at him, opening the disc drive on the laptop.
”No problem, Andy. After all, what’re friends for? Now, your pick. Do we start with Space Mutiny or Godzilla vs. Megalon?”
Andrew chuckles, fond memories of watching both with Emma in high school flooding back through his mind. For a minute, the exhaustion vanishes from his eyes. He smiles at her.
”I don’t care. You pick. I just…I just need some time with you.”
Emma blinks, shrugging off the brief oddity of the statement, and pops in one of the DVDs. She scoots around to the same side of the table as Andrew, opening one of the packages of Oreos as we fade to black.
”This is our reckoning. This is the time when we find out what kind of men we are. One of us will be elevated. Either a reign will be vindicated or a revolutionary will seize the throne he has fought so hard to claim. Roberto, I know what you can do. I have zero doubt that anyone else would fall before you and really, truly rest in peace. But I can’t let you be the one to stop me. Not here, not now. This is my moment of vindication, my instant of truth. This title, this chase…this is three years worth of toil and effort. My blood, my sweat, my tears, EVERYTHING has gone into this road, and I cannot, I WILL NOT yield! Not now!”
“Roberto, you can fight. You can hit me with anything you can, cut corners, damnit, do whatever you think you have to. I want you to leave it all out there, because I know that neither of us is going to be satisfied unless we know that both people in this match did everything they could to win. At the end of the day, we’re two sides of the same coin. We want the best for NCW, but we have different ideas as to what that best interest really is. You’ll have your day in the spotlight, your chance to be atop this mountain and holding this belt…but it’ll have to wait.”
“The wait’s agonizing. I know. But the journey is only half of it. The destination, whether it takes you five months or five years…no matter what they said, no matter how anyone tried to devalue it, that moment of triumph when the ref’s hand slapped the mat the third time and that bell rang is something I’ll never forget as long as I live. Keep fighting. Never let that dream die. But know that I will never give up. Not as long as my lungs draw breath, not as long as I can push myself even an inch further, I won’t stop fighting to hold onto this title.”
“I could see you winning the Riot. I could see you becoming NCW Champion. I can see a lot of things happening…but one thing I can’t see, no matter how hard I try…is you beating me Sunday. I can’t. Not for your sake, not for my sake. I’ve let my doubts and my fears and everything that’s been said about me eat away at me like a parasite for three years. I’ve let the people who said “no, you can’t” affect everything I did and how I behaved. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t matter anymore. I’m here to entertain, and I’m here to prove to them that I’m the champion they deserve…even if you think I’m not the champion they need. We're both missing something. That one win, that one moment that erases all those lingering questions about our worth. So Roberto…bring your best. I’ll bring mine. And Sunday night, in the middle of that ring…may the best man win.”[/i]
“So for the third month in a row, I’m walking in the underdog. Everyone from the matchmakers to the popular consensus in the locker room holds that this is the end of the line for Andrew Jacobsen: World Champion. I’m sure that there are certain people that would love nothing more than to see me topple and crumble under the Florentine power of Roberto Verona, to see the revolution come full circle. He’s the lesser of their two evils, because they’d rather have him on top, even with his promises of flushing out the corruption in NCW’s veins, than suffer through another second of the Boy Scout.”
“We both have nasty reputations to overcome. For you, it’s a legacy of being a choker. It’s that nasty sensation that you might never be able to get the job done on the big stage. Well…you have. You’ve won big matches in your career: your National Title match against Jones, last week, you’ve stepped up and proven yourself when called upon. For me, it’s much the same…but a bit more specific. See, I don’t know if you’ve had your head under a rock for the last month, but apparently, I won this title…in a less-than-legitimate manner. Apparently, pinning someone’s shoulders to the mat in a one-on-one situation…it’s not enough for some people. But hey, according to some people pinning someone in a tag match while your partner holds onto their ankle is totally legit. Go figure.”
“I wanted this match. I wanted it because I knew that the only way I’d ever have a chance of shutting up some of the persistent doubters would be to take on a man who they had zero doubts about. You’ve unquestionably earned this opportunity. You’ve beaten the best of the best…and Mike Laszlo. So for me to be able to beat you, pin you down or make you tap that mat because you just can’t take it anymore…they’ll have no ability to question me. They won’t be able to say a damn thing. Because this is you and me, one on one. No excuses, no questions. Just two athletes, and one chance to prove our superiority.”
“I know some people would question what’s going on with you, Hannah and the Knites. Me? I don’t. Because I know what I’m seeing. I don’t think you’re capable of the sort of duplicity they’ve accused you of. You’re an honest man. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. Maybe Hannah has some sort of other ideas, but you’re the same revolutionary you’ve been from Day One. I’d like to think I know you well enough, from the time we’ve spent together and everything we’ve done, both as allies and enemies, to know that you’re not the sort of man that’d sell his soul for the World Title, and certainly not to her.”
“This match is much more than just a pay-per-view. It’s a tipping point. This match isn’t one I can call. I’d like to be able to say that I know I’ll win. Everything in my mind says that I’ll win. But you’re…that damn good. You’re good enough that I can’t write you off. With everything I know about you, because of everything you’ve done…you’re just as much of a challenge as Xander was. I know I can rise to this occasion…but that’s not what I need. I don’t need to rise only to fall again. I need to rise and stay there. I have to cement my place as a true champion. So when that bell rings, and we’re looking across the ring at each other…know that you’ll be getting nothing less than my best. This is war, Roberto. This is a war we both need to win…and neither of us can afford to lose. Good luck. We’ll both need it.”[/i]
Open on Andrew Jacobsen sitting alone, in his hotel room, staring at the wall. The NCW World Title is next to him on the bed, and he stares into the distance, haunted. The stubble on his face clearly indicates he hasn’t shaved for several days, and his bloodshot eyes and weary demeanor suggest that he hasn’t slept well for the same period. He shakes his head slowly, mournfully, and looks over to the World Title. Andrew takes it in one hand, chuckling hollowly as he brings it over and sets it in his lap.
”This was supposed to be it…this was supposed to be everything I ever wanted. I’m the best, right? Nope…can’t be the best with Alex Jones and Adam Knite and Mike Laszlo and Lex Sense and all the people running around who think they’re better than me. I guess that Gib was right…y’know, maybe I did get lucky…”
Andrew falls back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He’s distantly aware of a dull ache in his lower back, but he pushes it out of his mind, trying to refocus. He rubs his eyes, clearly in pain, and forces himself to stand back up, dropping the title on the bed and walking into the bathroom. Andrew idly flips the light switch on, looking up into the mirror. He stares at the haggard visage that confronts him, and shakes his head slowly.
”You’re a damn wreck…she’s done this before. She’ll be back…why are you letting this get to you so much, man? What the hell’s wrong with you? Clean yourself up, for the love of God. You’re the World Champion. You’ve got appearances to maintain.”
He chuckles to himself again, reaching over and grabbing a razor from a travel kit left sitting on the counter. Andrew sets about shaving, muttering to himself as he carefully trims up, getting back to the familiar clean-cut look we’re used to from the North Star.
”Listen to yourself. World Champion and you’re sitting in a hotel room, all alone, moping about how people are mean…is this really how you want to live your life? Of course not, y’moron. Get over it. You screwed up, and sometimes there isn’t any coming back from that. Just gotta focus on Verona…”
Andrew finishes trimming off the last bit of excess facial hair, reaching over and toweling off his face to reveal his usual appearance underneath. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing, and grabs a small squeeze bottle of hair gel, dispensing a bit and pushing his hair into something resembling a normal style. Andrew washes the excess off of his fingers, looking into the mirror again. Apart from his very tired eyes, Andrew looks every bit the part of the man he normally is. As he leans against the wall and rubs his eyes, a knock comes at the door. Andrew walks out of the bathroom, waving his hand dismissively as he opens the door.
”Give me a second, will ya…”
Andrew opens the door, and standing outside is Emma Danielson. Emma, in a stark contrast to her usual attire, is wearing a nice black blouse and formal tan pants. Her hair’s loose, and she has a paper grocery bag in one hand, with what appears to be a messenger bag slung over a shoulder. She smiles at Andrew, holding up the bags slightly.
”Hey, buddy. Heard about what happened with Chase, and I figured you might need some cheering up. Mind if I come in?”
Andrew blinks, shaking his head, and steps aside, gesturing for Emma to come in. She does so, and Andrew closes the door behind her. Emma looks around the comparatively small room, walking to the table and setting the bags on it. He shrugs apologetically, closing the bathroom door as he notices her confused expression.
”Booked it months ago. I had no idea I’d be in the World Title hunt, much less World Champion, so this was what made sense.”
Emma nods, pulling out the two chairs at the table. She pats the seat of one, looking to Andrew. AJ walks over, sitting down, and Emma sits in the other one. She starts reaching into the paper bag, pulling out two packages of Double Stuf Oreos. Andrew can’t help but crack a grin at that, and Emma smiles, pulling out two-liter bottles of Coke and Mountain Dew. Andrew lights up at the second, and Emma can’t help but snort at his reaction.
”What, did all those months of having to indulge Sydney’s Mello Yello habit send you into Mountain Dew withdrawal? Glad to see that sort of smile on your face again…I don’t like depressed Andrew.”
He chuckles, looking to the computer bag and raising an eyebrow.
”So what’s the plan, we eat Oreos, drink soda…Em, if you brought a bunch of wrestling DVDs, I appreciate it, but right now I just need a break…just a day or two when I don’t have to think about wrestling. I know, alert the media…”
Emma blinks, a sly grin slipping across her face. She unlatches the bag, speaking with a mischievous tone to her voice.
”Oh, who said anything about wrestling? I’ve got four words for you, buddy…”
She reaches into the bag, withdrawing several DVDs. All of them are various releases from the cult TV series Mystery Science Theater 3000. Andrew grins, and Emma grins back at him, finishing her sentence.
”We’ve got movie sign!”
Andrew shakes his head, groaning, and looks over to her, arching an eyebrow at the grin Emma’s wearing on her face.
”Em, tell me the therapist hasn’t broken you. I mean, nice clothing, breaking out Mystery Science Theater 3000, relentless cheering-up efforts…where’s the Emma I used to know?”
She shrugs, pulling out a laptop, and boots it up, grabbing a pair of plastic cups from the bag.
”Andy, if you mention that freakin’ therapist again, I promise you I’ll powerbomb you out the window. Every time I go there it’s like I stepped into a bizarro world where everything is all pastels and cheeriness. He can’t be human. My current theory is that he’s some freakish government experiment to create a human without any negative emotions. He escaped into the wild and is living undercover as an occupational therapist. Besides, I would have brought booze, but apparently when I wasn’t looking the terms of my contract were amended. I can’t drink 24 hours before a television broadcast, 48 before a pay-per-view. What kinda crap is that?”
Andrew grins, reaching over and grabbing the Mountain Dew bottle. He opens it, shaking his head.
”Yep, she’s back…hey, Em? Thanks. I’m pretty sure I would have done something I’d regret if I stayed cooped up here this entire time.”
Emma smiles at him, opening the disc drive on the laptop.
”No problem, Andy. After all, what’re friends for? Now, your pick. Do we start with Space Mutiny or Godzilla vs. Megalon?”
Andrew chuckles, fond memories of watching both with Emma in high school flooding back through his mind. For a minute, the exhaustion vanishes from his eyes. He smiles at her.
”I don’t care. You pick. I just…I just need some time with you.”
Emma blinks, shrugging off the brief oddity of the statement, and pops in one of the DVDs. She scoots around to the same side of the table as Andrew, opening one of the packages of Oreos as we fade to black.
”This is our reckoning. This is the time when we find out what kind of men we are. One of us will be elevated. Either a reign will be vindicated or a revolutionary will seize the throne he has fought so hard to claim. Roberto, I know what you can do. I have zero doubt that anyone else would fall before you and really, truly rest in peace. But I can’t let you be the one to stop me. Not here, not now. This is my moment of vindication, my instant of truth. This title, this chase…this is three years worth of toil and effort. My blood, my sweat, my tears, EVERYTHING has gone into this road, and I cannot, I WILL NOT yield! Not now!”
“Roberto, you can fight. You can hit me with anything you can, cut corners, damnit, do whatever you think you have to. I want you to leave it all out there, because I know that neither of us is going to be satisfied unless we know that both people in this match did everything they could to win. At the end of the day, we’re two sides of the same coin. We want the best for NCW, but we have different ideas as to what that best interest really is. You’ll have your day in the spotlight, your chance to be atop this mountain and holding this belt…but it’ll have to wait.”
“The wait’s agonizing. I know. But the journey is only half of it. The destination, whether it takes you five months or five years…no matter what they said, no matter how anyone tried to devalue it, that moment of triumph when the ref’s hand slapped the mat the third time and that bell rang is something I’ll never forget as long as I live. Keep fighting. Never let that dream die. But know that I will never give up. Not as long as my lungs draw breath, not as long as I can push myself even an inch further, I won’t stop fighting to hold onto this title.”
“I could see you winning the Riot. I could see you becoming NCW Champion. I can see a lot of things happening…but one thing I can’t see, no matter how hard I try…is you beating me Sunday. I can’t. Not for your sake, not for my sake. I’ve let my doubts and my fears and everything that’s been said about me eat away at me like a parasite for three years. I’ve let the people who said “no, you can’t” affect everything I did and how I behaved. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t matter anymore. I’m here to entertain, and I’m here to prove to them that I’m the champion they deserve…even if you think I’m not the champion they need. We're both missing something. That one win, that one moment that erases all those lingering questions about our worth. So Roberto…bring your best. I’ll bring mine. And Sunday night, in the middle of that ring…may the best man win.”[/i]
