Post by The Ace on Dec 1, 2012 16:12:42 GMT -6
You know Cross, there are times when you can be quite challenging, quite perceptive, quite thought-provoking. Times that make even a cynical old bastard like me rub my chin and think you know, maybe the kid has a point here, it's just a shame that those precious moments of competence are so few and far between for anybody least of all me to take you seriously.
I know why these idiots boo me Xavier, you don't need to tell me, it's because I have made a career out of taking their heroes, men like Nathan Webb and Roberto Verona and either breaking them and relegating them to the undercard on a semi-permant basis in the first instance or just plain showing them their true colours in the second.
But I cannot for the life of me understand why they cheer you, why they've taken you to their hearts and accepted you as their true red white and blue hero, self proclaimed Saviour of the masses number four, after men like Verona, Webb and Williams have all tried that schtick recently and ultimately realised the futility of their agenda, and its either by coincidence or by design depending on if you ask Xavier or somebody actually smart enough to acknowledge me as more than enough of a worthy opponent for your precious title, that in two of those three cases I have been the critical factor in making these men reconsider their choices.
You see Xavier, maybe Roberto Verona does have an alterior motive for influencing Kelly to give me another shot at you, maybe he thinks I'm the best person on the roster to punish you for stealing his gimmick - oh that's right, Mr "Ace is so unoriginal" -take a look in the mirror sunshine, behold the fact that you are just Roberto Verona Zero, all of the same gas, none of the same ability. Add to that that your particular brand of flat, tasteless soda comes in a red white and blue can and I think we can all see that not only are you a pale imitation of a man who would be Revolutionary but you're also a condensed version of Team America - but here's the 411 on that particular deal.
If these people wanted a daily dose of patriotism to brighten up their otherwise dull little lives, why would they choose the Xavier Cross single shot pack, when for the same money they can get the Gib and Simon Daye double shot value pack? Fifty percent extra flavour, fifty percent extra lame jokes. I may not proudly wave the stars and stripes like you do Cross, but after almost a decade of working in this country and after almost five years of being married to a beautiful American woman, I've come to realise that this is a country where bigger is better, if these people can get something in XXL or Supersized compared to the regular they will, what I'm saying here Cross is compared to men like Gib and Simon, you sir are just small fries. That's right, not even regular.
But I digress, like I said maybe Roberto just wants me to punish you, or maybe he just wants to keep me distracted with something so I don't get the crazy idea in my head of challenging him for that World Heavyweight Championship, I don't know, as far as I'm concerned I got the rematch because somebody in management wanted to see justice done. They could not allow a false call to stand. As a true-blooded American, you can appreciate that, can't you Xavier?
Truth. Justice. And The American Way. That's how it goes right? That's what you're all about isn't it? Maybe not, you see from my days as a teenager running fixed card tricks and scams conning marks out of some of their cash to make some easy money, if there's one thing I've developed an eye for, its spotting a flim-flam artist, and you Xavier are no finer example of one of the best I've ever encountered.
You've fooled these people that cheer you beyond all reason and logic that you're a proud patriot and you've done it through cheap jokes and offensively stereotyping me as a caricature of my home nation.
Congratulations good sir, bravo, I applaud you for it, no really, look...
The Ace mockingly claps for a few moments before stopping rather abruptly.
...as I'm sure all these people do too. Jolly good show old chap, they've bought what you're selling, they buy you as a plastic patriot and a proud hero of the people simply because after men like Roberto Verona, Nathan Webb and Todd Williams have let them down, their options are somewhat limited. And because I'm supposed to be the bad guy here, let me tell you the truth Xavier, the truth as only an honest man like me can.
You're only a hero to them so long as that National Championship is around your waist. You're only a proud patriot as long as that title allows you to be. It allows you to be somebody, it defines you as important in this company. Without it you will lose all form of identity. When you lose that title, and it doesn't matter if you lose it to me this Sunday at Breaking Away, or seven years from now in a bathroom stall match to Jimmy Turner after he goes on a psychotic rampage with his mop and bucket of warm goat spit still seeking revenge for botching that piledriver on me and breaking my neck, the veil shall fall and all of a sudden you will not feel so gosh darn proud of bein' a good ol' 'Merican, born and raised, boy howdy.
Without that strap to define you Cross you will slink into the very same place I found you two years ago, obscurity, and the very same people who cheer you now will be wondering how they ever bought your T-Shirts and baseball caps and wrist bands. They'll all wonder how they ever cheered for a man who openly wishes death by cancer or AIDS on an opponent rather than just lacing up his boots and going out there like a man to face his destiny, to play the cards he has once again been dealt.
It's not funny Cross, its not entertaining, its just sad and pathetic, sure you'll catch a temporary ratings spike not because people agree with you about how epic that burn was but simply because of the shock value of such a bold statement. After that wears off, the initial shock I mean, they'll see it as nothing more than just plain offensive, as somebody who's lost loved ones to cancer, I'm offended by your crass stupidity cross and I'm sure all those in your fanbase who have lost loved ones to cancer and AIDS feel the same, or at least I hope they do, because even as the villain I still give them much more credit than you do to know where the line is between cutting a guy down for entertainment's sake and just being a Grade A colossal douchebag for no reason. If that's the kind of hero people cheer these days then quite franky I'm glad I'm not one, and as long as that mentality exists, I don't ever want to be one.
Like I've said already Xavier, I know why these people hate me, but I have no idea why you hate me so damn much, not even Charlie Velez caught this much pathetic heat off you and he took a sledgehammer to your dead wife's tombstone live on National television before he whooped your piddly ass to retain the National Championship. Maybe your mad that you never got even for it and you see me as some sort of surrogate for all that pent up rage, whatever it is, win or lose this Sunday, Cross, mentally you are in shambles, and if I see an opening because of it, its the only advantage I'll need.
Maybe you hate me because you thought our story was done, maybe you saw me as one of the biggest threats to your title reign and when you saw a way passed me you scrambled for the pin and you took it, you didn't care about how tainted it was, you survived and now you try and take that fear that shakes you at your very core, knowing what I can do, knowing what I am capable of, knowing that I could just snap and put you on the shelf on the roll of a dice if the mood strikes me, you try and deflect all that worry, all that fear, all that concern into a rage because that's ultimately what you think it will take to beat me.
It's almost funny, all this time I thought you were trying to be Captain America, now it turns out you're just trying to be The Hulk, how ironic it is than that out of the two of us the only person who's truly been able to avenge a devastaing loss by hulking up and smashing the tar out of somebody is me...
The scene opens as a rather beat up old 1996 Ford F-150 midnight blue truck pulls into the drive of the Conway family home, looking very out of place in all the luxury.
The Ace stands on his doorstep, with Solitaire by his side, and Domino on his hip as he wrinkles his nose at the very idea of having that worn out truck in his drive way.
Emma Danielson emerges from the driver's side and Kathleen Conway emerges from the passenger side, and as she does so Solitaire rushes out to greet her, the widest, cutest grin on her face.
Kathy shuts the door to the truck and scoops her daughter up in her arms, kissing her on the cheek, before carrying her back towards the house.
The Ace: Honey, you should have called me, I could have picked you up from the gym...
Kathy: I figured I'd save you the bother babe, since you have your own match to prepare for.
The Ace: That rusty old thing doesn't look very safe. Not to mention it spoils the general ambiance around here being parked in our driveway like a dreadful eyesore...
Emma approaches The Ace after shutting the door on her side of the truck.
Emma: Well, gee Mr Conway, you're most welcome. Sure it was no problem training your wife and dropping her back home safely. Glad to do it...
The Ace ignores the comment with a flippant remark.
The Ace: Yeah, yeah, I owe you one, I get it. I hope you didn't wear her out too much, I would appreciate some of that strength and stamina for later...
Kathy glares at her husband who smirks, Emma turns to Kathy.
Emma: Gee Kathleen, I see what you mean, The Ace is quite the catch, how lucky you are to be married to the big ol' teddybear...he's just so gosh darn adorable...
Emma rolls her eyes and Kathy laughs.
Kathy: Oh I know...
Kathy then kisses Domino on her forehead as she is in her father's arms, and a quick kiss to her husband on the lips, before she turns back to Emma.
Kathy: You're welcome to come in if you like. Have a drink?
Emma: Oh go on then, if you insist, nothing alcoholic though, gotta drive back n' all y'know...
Kathy smiles and nods.
Kathy: Of course...
Emma follows Kathy into the house and The Ace rubs his hands together with a sly smile as he watches both ladies enter. Kathy leads Emma into the family room, whilst The Ace, Domino, Caleb and Tiffany stand in the hall way suddenly engaged in hushed whispers.
The Ace: Well Caleb, I guess that's two hundred dollars you owe me. Emma Danielson is here, I got her into the house, no alcohol involved...
Caleb: Technically it was Mrs C who -
The Ace: Technically, how about I just whoop your piddly ass...
Tiffany: Don't forget the hundred he still owes you since that birthday bet, Jake...
Tiffany smiles innocently as Caleb scowls at her.
Caleb: Just who's side are you on, anyway?
Tiffany: Just pay the man, Caleb.
Caleb sighs and shakes his head as he fishes out his wallet and opens it.
Caleb: Unbelievable...
Caleb then counts the notes out into The Ace's open palm.
Caleb: One...two...three hundred dollars, there you go Mr C...
The Ace smirks as his fingers close around the notes.
The Ace: Pleasure doing business with you, Lockwood.
Caleb closes his wallet with another shake of his head as he tucks it back into his back pocket.
Suddenly Kathy pops out into the hall way, and whispers herself.
Kathy: What's going on out here? We have a guest in our house and you're all stood out here.
Kathy then sees the money in her husband's hand, and she reaches out and takes it from him.
Kathy: I believe this is mine, I brought Emma into the house, and besides you owe me some shoes and for that little incident last week...
The Ace shakes his head, as he carries Domino and both he and Tiffany follow Kathy into the family room. Caleb meanwhile heads to the kitchen to fetch the drinks.
The Ace whispers to his daughter.
The Ace: Who knew exchanging a little saliva with a slimy fish would turn out to be so expensive, hey, Min?
I guess I should be happy, I guess I should be thrilled, you finally get it Cross, or at least you appear to get something about all of this, unless of course you're just trying to pander to management, telling them what you think they finally want to hear from you, just like you pander to everbody else. It's only taken you what? Two months to realise that the belt you have been carrying, the symbol of hope and national pride that you so woefully want to wield like a dead trout and slap me in the face with, hasn't been worth spit as of late and needs its prestige restoring.
I won't be so bold as to declare myself to be just the man to do it, because unlike you Xavier, I am not accustomed to setting myself up for a potential embarassment on any grand stage, but are you Cross? Last month you clearly weren't bothered by how lacklustre that belt had become, perhaps if you had been, Roberto Verona wouldn't have recommended I get a rematch at all as some half-hearted concedence on his part for that cheap shot to the old crown jewels.
Perhaps if you had shown Kelly and Roberto that you were the man to make that belt matter again, you'd be the horse they were backing and not me, perhaps if you had convinced them two months ago of just how gosh darn proud you really were when you first won the right to call yourself the National Champion, they'd have believed you and told me and my quest for a rematch to go screw myself. Screwjobs happen after all, this isn't the first time in NCW that a referee has blown a call and allowed a wrong decision to stand, and it won't be the last - and believe me Cross - nobody around here is pretending that it is, least of all me.
I've always known the system could be tweaked, hell it could be argued that I've made an entire career out of exploiting the loopholes in the system to get myself victories - that is part and parcel of being the classic bad guy in professional wrestling - and any other self-righteous asshat might actually tell me it was poetic justice, that I deserved to be screwed, but not you Cross.
No, instead you want to prattle on about how corrupt the system is and how you as the Saviour will fight against it and all the injustices it represents, why then do you dismiss fighting me as torture, as some kind of punishment for some unpardonable sin, some crime? The corrupt system as you see it Cross benefits me, I am the hand-picked symbol of it, by all rights, you should be champing at the bit to take me down. To prove you can quench corruption and holding up the beating that you will give me as proof to the people that tyranny will not be allowed to stand. But you don't want to face me, you don't want to fight me, you'd rather face anybody else but me, you've made your list, you've checked it twice, and I'm not on it. I'm just the naughty boy who doesn't deserve the nice shiny title shot. Well I'm sorry X, I'm sorry that your Christmas wish to face the Cookie Monster, Xander Famularo has yet to be granted...
But hey, chin up, wipe away those tears young Xavier, if you make it out of Breaking Away with your National Championship, feel free to try again to make that wish come true in a few weeks when it is much closer to Christmas and the power of your wishes is that little bit stronger...until then, you're fighting and defending your title against The Ace...
Deal with it, codsack.
The scene opens with Jake and Kathy in their family room, long after Emma Danielson had gone and the kids were in bed, Kathy was sat on the luxurious leather couch, whilst Jake Conway was laying there with his head in her lap. She was gently stoking his hair, he smiled.
Jake: So Kingsley was checking you out last week, huh?
Kathy smiles down at her husband.
Kathy: Jealous?
Jake: Extremely.
Kathy: Awww. See that's how I know that Mercedes is full of crap, you don't think of her or that kiss too much do you?
Jake smiles up at his wife.
Jake: Honey, if after over four years of marriage and two beautiful little princesses, you still think I have it in me to cheat on you, then I need to remind you only of one thing...
Kathy: Of how much you love me and would never leave me?
Jake: Okay, two things.
Kathy giggles, clearly teasing her husband.
Jake: First, I need to remind you that I love you more and more with each passing day, more than mere words can express and I would never, ever, ever, ever leave you...
Kathy: And second?
Jake: Second, I need to remind you just how influential and inspirational your love has been to me over the years. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be the who I am, you've stuck by me through so much. You've inspired me to grow and change who I was so much. So much that the very essence of that change you've inspired in me Kat is at the heart of my own personal evolution as a man, worthy of your love, as a husband worthy of your trust, and as a father worthy of the children you have blessed me with. For Jake Conway there is is no greater apex to his evolution than that...
Kathy then leans down and their lips meet, and the kiss was every bit as sweet as it was intense, and as the lovers let their tongues frolic playfully in the hollows of each other's mouths, their passion and heart rates accelerate steadily with each gentle brush of lip against lip.
And you all thought it was just a T-Shirt slogan.
How little you all know me.
And yet how much you all presume to know...
I know why these idiots boo me Xavier, you don't need to tell me, it's because I have made a career out of taking their heroes, men like Nathan Webb and Roberto Verona and either breaking them and relegating them to the undercard on a semi-permant basis in the first instance or just plain showing them their true colours in the second.
But I cannot for the life of me understand why they cheer you, why they've taken you to their hearts and accepted you as their true red white and blue hero, self proclaimed Saviour of the masses number four, after men like Verona, Webb and Williams have all tried that schtick recently and ultimately realised the futility of their agenda, and its either by coincidence or by design depending on if you ask Xavier or somebody actually smart enough to acknowledge me as more than enough of a worthy opponent for your precious title, that in two of those three cases I have been the critical factor in making these men reconsider their choices.
You see Xavier, maybe Roberto Verona does have an alterior motive for influencing Kelly to give me another shot at you, maybe he thinks I'm the best person on the roster to punish you for stealing his gimmick - oh that's right, Mr "Ace is so unoriginal" -take a look in the mirror sunshine, behold the fact that you are just Roberto Verona Zero, all of the same gas, none of the same ability. Add to that that your particular brand of flat, tasteless soda comes in a red white and blue can and I think we can all see that not only are you a pale imitation of a man who would be Revolutionary but you're also a condensed version of Team America - but here's the 411 on that particular deal.
If these people wanted a daily dose of patriotism to brighten up their otherwise dull little lives, why would they choose the Xavier Cross single shot pack, when for the same money they can get the Gib and Simon Daye double shot value pack? Fifty percent extra flavour, fifty percent extra lame jokes. I may not proudly wave the stars and stripes like you do Cross, but after almost a decade of working in this country and after almost five years of being married to a beautiful American woman, I've come to realise that this is a country where bigger is better, if these people can get something in XXL or Supersized compared to the regular they will, what I'm saying here Cross is compared to men like Gib and Simon, you sir are just small fries. That's right, not even regular.
But I digress, like I said maybe Roberto just wants me to punish you, or maybe he just wants to keep me distracted with something so I don't get the crazy idea in my head of challenging him for that World Heavyweight Championship, I don't know, as far as I'm concerned I got the rematch because somebody in management wanted to see justice done. They could not allow a false call to stand. As a true-blooded American, you can appreciate that, can't you Xavier?
Truth. Justice. And The American Way. That's how it goes right? That's what you're all about isn't it? Maybe not, you see from my days as a teenager running fixed card tricks and scams conning marks out of some of their cash to make some easy money, if there's one thing I've developed an eye for, its spotting a flim-flam artist, and you Xavier are no finer example of one of the best I've ever encountered.
You've fooled these people that cheer you beyond all reason and logic that you're a proud patriot and you've done it through cheap jokes and offensively stereotyping me as a caricature of my home nation.
Congratulations good sir, bravo, I applaud you for it, no really, look...
The Ace mockingly claps for a few moments before stopping rather abruptly.
...as I'm sure all these people do too. Jolly good show old chap, they've bought what you're selling, they buy you as a plastic patriot and a proud hero of the people simply because after men like Roberto Verona, Nathan Webb and Todd Williams have let them down, their options are somewhat limited. And because I'm supposed to be the bad guy here, let me tell you the truth Xavier, the truth as only an honest man like me can.
You're only a hero to them so long as that National Championship is around your waist. You're only a proud patriot as long as that title allows you to be. It allows you to be somebody, it defines you as important in this company. Without it you will lose all form of identity. When you lose that title, and it doesn't matter if you lose it to me this Sunday at Breaking Away, or seven years from now in a bathroom stall match to Jimmy Turner after he goes on a psychotic rampage with his mop and bucket of warm goat spit still seeking revenge for botching that piledriver on me and breaking my neck, the veil shall fall and all of a sudden you will not feel so gosh darn proud of bein' a good ol' 'Merican, born and raised, boy howdy.
Without that strap to define you Cross you will slink into the very same place I found you two years ago, obscurity, and the very same people who cheer you now will be wondering how they ever bought your T-Shirts and baseball caps and wrist bands. They'll all wonder how they ever cheered for a man who openly wishes death by cancer or AIDS on an opponent rather than just lacing up his boots and going out there like a man to face his destiny, to play the cards he has once again been dealt.
It's not funny Cross, its not entertaining, its just sad and pathetic, sure you'll catch a temporary ratings spike not because people agree with you about how epic that burn was but simply because of the shock value of such a bold statement. After that wears off, the initial shock I mean, they'll see it as nothing more than just plain offensive, as somebody who's lost loved ones to cancer, I'm offended by your crass stupidity cross and I'm sure all those in your fanbase who have lost loved ones to cancer and AIDS feel the same, or at least I hope they do, because even as the villain I still give them much more credit than you do to know where the line is between cutting a guy down for entertainment's sake and just being a Grade A colossal douchebag for no reason. If that's the kind of hero people cheer these days then quite franky I'm glad I'm not one, and as long as that mentality exists, I don't ever want to be one.
Like I've said already Xavier, I know why these people hate me, but I have no idea why you hate me so damn much, not even Charlie Velez caught this much pathetic heat off you and he took a sledgehammer to your dead wife's tombstone live on National television before he whooped your piddly ass to retain the National Championship. Maybe your mad that you never got even for it and you see me as some sort of surrogate for all that pent up rage, whatever it is, win or lose this Sunday, Cross, mentally you are in shambles, and if I see an opening because of it, its the only advantage I'll need.
Maybe you hate me because you thought our story was done, maybe you saw me as one of the biggest threats to your title reign and when you saw a way passed me you scrambled for the pin and you took it, you didn't care about how tainted it was, you survived and now you try and take that fear that shakes you at your very core, knowing what I can do, knowing what I am capable of, knowing that I could just snap and put you on the shelf on the roll of a dice if the mood strikes me, you try and deflect all that worry, all that fear, all that concern into a rage because that's ultimately what you think it will take to beat me.
It's almost funny, all this time I thought you were trying to be Captain America, now it turns out you're just trying to be The Hulk, how ironic it is than that out of the two of us the only person who's truly been able to avenge a devastaing loss by hulking up and smashing the tar out of somebody is me...
The scene opens as a rather beat up old 1996 Ford F-150 midnight blue truck pulls into the drive of the Conway family home, looking very out of place in all the luxury.
The Ace stands on his doorstep, with Solitaire by his side, and Domino on his hip as he wrinkles his nose at the very idea of having that worn out truck in his drive way.
Emma Danielson emerges from the driver's side and Kathleen Conway emerges from the passenger side, and as she does so Solitaire rushes out to greet her, the widest, cutest grin on her face.
Kathy shuts the door to the truck and scoops her daughter up in her arms, kissing her on the cheek, before carrying her back towards the house.
The Ace: Honey, you should have called me, I could have picked you up from the gym...
Kathy: I figured I'd save you the bother babe, since you have your own match to prepare for.
The Ace: That rusty old thing doesn't look very safe. Not to mention it spoils the general ambiance around here being parked in our driveway like a dreadful eyesore...
Emma approaches The Ace after shutting the door on her side of the truck.
Emma: Well, gee Mr Conway, you're most welcome. Sure it was no problem training your wife and dropping her back home safely. Glad to do it...
The Ace ignores the comment with a flippant remark.
The Ace: Yeah, yeah, I owe you one, I get it. I hope you didn't wear her out too much, I would appreciate some of that strength and stamina for later...
Kathy glares at her husband who smirks, Emma turns to Kathy.
Emma: Gee Kathleen, I see what you mean, The Ace is quite the catch, how lucky you are to be married to the big ol' teddybear...he's just so gosh darn adorable...
Emma rolls her eyes and Kathy laughs.
Kathy: Oh I know...
Kathy then kisses Domino on her forehead as she is in her father's arms, and a quick kiss to her husband on the lips, before she turns back to Emma.
Kathy: You're welcome to come in if you like. Have a drink?
Emma: Oh go on then, if you insist, nothing alcoholic though, gotta drive back n' all y'know...
Kathy smiles and nods.
Kathy: Of course...
Emma follows Kathy into the house and The Ace rubs his hands together with a sly smile as he watches both ladies enter. Kathy leads Emma into the family room, whilst The Ace, Domino, Caleb and Tiffany stand in the hall way suddenly engaged in hushed whispers.
The Ace: Well Caleb, I guess that's two hundred dollars you owe me. Emma Danielson is here, I got her into the house, no alcohol involved...
Caleb: Technically it was Mrs C who -
The Ace: Technically, how about I just whoop your piddly ass...
Tiffany: Don't forget the hundred he still owes you since that birthday bet, Jake...
Tiffany smiles innocently as Caleb scowls at her.
Caleb: Just who's side are you on, anyway?
Tiffany: Just pay the man, Caleb.
Caleb sighs and shakes his head as he fishes out his wallet and opens it.
Caleb: Unbelievable...
Caleb then counts the notes out into The Ace's open palm.
Caleb: One...two...three hundred dollars, there you go Mr C...
The Ace smirks as his fingers close around the notes.
The Ace: Pleasure doing business with you, Lockwood.
Caleb closes his wallet with another shake of his head as he tucks it back into his back pocket.
Suddenly Kathy pops out into the hall way, and whispers herself.
Kathy: What's going on out here? We have a guest in our house and you're all stood out here.
Kathy then sees the money in her husband's hand, and she reaches out and takes it from him.
Kathy: I believe this is mine, I brought Emma into the house, and besides you owe me some shoes and for that little incident last week...
The Ace shakes his head, as he carries Domino and both he and Tiffany follow Kathy into the family room. Caleb meanwhile heads to the kitchen to fetch the drinks.
The Ace whispers to his daughter.
The Ace: Who knew exchanging a little saliva with a slimy fish would turn out to be so expensive, hey, Min?
I guess I should be happy, I guess I should be thrilled, you finally get it Cross, or at least you appear to get something about all of this, unless of course you're just trying to pander to management, telling them what you think they finally want to hear from you, just like you pander to everbody else. It's only taken you what? Two months to realise that the belt you have been carrying, the symbol of hope and national pride that you so woefully want to wield like a dead trout and slap me in the face with, hasn't been worth spit as of late and needs its prestige restoring.
I won't be so bold as to declare myself to be just the man to do it, because unlike you Xavier, I am not accustomed to setting myself up for a potential embarassment on any grand stage, but are you Cross? Last month you clearly weren't bothered by how lacklustre that belt had become, perhaps if you had been, Roberto Verona wouldn't have recommended I get a rematch at all as some half-hearted concedence on his part for that cheap shot to the old crown jewels.
Perhaps if you had shown Kelly and Roberto that you were the man to make that belt matter again, you'd be the horse they were backing and not me, perhaps if you had convinced them two months ago of just how gosh darn proud you really were when you first won the right to call yourself the National Champion, they'd have believed you and told me and my quest for a rematch to go screw myself. Screwjobs happen after all, this isn't the first time in NCW that a referee has blown a call and allowed a wrong decision to stand, and it won't be the last - and believe me Cross - nobody around here is pretending that it is, least of all me.
I've always known the system could be tweaked, hell it could be argued that I've made an entire career out of exploiting the loopholes in the system to get myself victories - that is part and parcel of being the classic bad guy in professional wrestling - and any other self-righteous asshat might actually tell me it was poetic justice, that I deserved to be screwed, but not you Cross.
No, instead you want to prattle on about how corrupt the system is and how you as the Saviour will fight against it and all the injustices it represents, why then do you dismiss fighting me as torture, as some kind of punishment for some unpardonable sin, some crime? The corrupt system as you see it Cross benefits me, I am the hand-picked symbol of it, by all rights, you should be champing at the bit to take me down. To prove you can quench corruption and holding up the beating that you will give me as proof to the people that tyranny will not be allowed to stand. But you don't want to face me, you don't want to fight me, you'd rather face anybody else but me, you've made your list, you've checked it twice, and I'm not on it. I'm just the naughty boy who doesn't deserve the nice shiny title shot. Well I'm sorry X, I'm sorry that your Christmas wish to face the Cookie Monster, Xander Famularo has yet to be granted...
But hey, chin up, wipe away those tears young Xavier, if you make it out of Breaking Away with your National Championship, feel free to try again to make that wish come true in a few weeks when it is much closer to Christmas and the power of your wishes is that little bit stronger...until then, you're fighting and defending your title against The Ace...
Deal with it, codsack.
The scene opens with Jake and Kathy in their family room, long after Emma Danielson had gone and the kids were in bed, Kathy was sat on the luxurious leather couch, whilst Jake Conway was laying there with his head in her lap. She was gently stoking his hair, he smiled.
Jake: So Kingsley was checking you out last week, huh?
Kathy smiles down at her husband.
Kathy: Jealous?
Jake: Extremely.
Kathy: Awww. See that's how I know that Mercedes is full of crap, you don't think of her or that kiss too much do you?
Jake smiles up at his wife.
Jake: Honey, if after over four years of marriage and two beautiful little princesses, you still think I have it in me to cheat on you, then I need to remind you only of one thing...
Kathy: Of how much you love me and would never leave me?
Jake: Okay, two things.
Kathy giggles, clearly teasing her husband.
Jake: First, I need to remind you that I love you more and more with each passing day, more than mere words can express and I would never, ever, ever, ever leave you...
Kathy: And second?
Jake: Second, I need to remind you just how influential and inspirational your love has been to me over the years. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be the who I am, you've stuck by me through so much. You've inspired me to grow and change who I was so much. So much that the very essence of that change you've inspired in me Kat is at the heart of my own personal evolution as a man, worthy of your love, as a husband worthy of your trust, and as a father worthy of the children you have blessed me with. For Jake Conway there is is no greater apex to his evolution than that...
Kathy then leans down and their lips meet, and the kiss was every bit as sweet as it was intense, and as the lovers let their tongues frolic playfully in the hollows of each other's mouths, their passion and heart rates accelerate steadily with each gentle brush of lip against lip.
And you all thought it was just a T-Shirt slogan.
How little you all know me.
And yet how much you all presume to know...
