Post by Jack Hammond on Mar 19, 2009 14:54:20 GMT -6
The scene opens on Jack, striding confidently into shot, 'How Hard Can It Be?' paraphernalia in place. He seems to be walking with purpose towards the camera from a fair distance away down the end of a busy New York street as he begins to talk, a grin set upon his face.
"New York. Quite possibly one of the most exciting and prosperous cities in the entire world. The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps...when people wanted to come to America in the old days, when this place was still growing, their first glimpse of this prosperous nation that they would have would be this city; Where the streets were said to be paved with gold, where everybody was a somebody."
He continues his confident strut down the street, casting his gaze upward at the city's skyline.
"But of course, many of those dreams were shattered when they finally saw this city up close, stuck under the shadows of the skyscrapers that towered overhead. Their hopes of an easier life, of riches and luxury often becoming tales of hardship and despair..."
Jack chuckles as he looks back at the camera.
"Now before some of you wonder where I'm going with this, if you could just try to stick with me; this city and those tales can be awfully close to the stories of the business I'm in."
He frowns slightly, still walking towards the camera down the bustling street.
"Over a year ago, when I came into nCw, I was wide eyed and full of hope. I'd made it to the 'promised land' and had dreams of victories and glory...but within weeks, I'd been brought back down to earth with a rather uncomfortable bump in the form of loss after loss. Each time I thought I'd gotten a level head, those fleeting dreams came back and I'd get all starry eyed."
Jack pauses in his speech, wincing.
"And, as is well documented, I paid the price dearly with each and every loss where I didn't want them...in grudge matches I’d vow to triumph, in stable wars where I didn’t want to let people down, in title matches I was lucky enough to find myself in...”
He grimaces at the memories, letting a wistful sigh pass his lips.
“But each and every loss was as important as each and every victory; each match was a lesson that I could take away and learn from. And I’ve learned from some of the best, some of those who have been in this industry for years longer than me. Fate, Dark Prophet, Christian Kane, Jackhammer, Trent Helms, AJ Pheonix, Xavier Williams...”
Jack pauses with a smirk.
“...The Ace.”
He sighs again, grinning again.
“Now before I get ahead of myself and try to pass myself off as some young Grasshopper, I’ve still got a ways to go. Sure, I have a belt around my waist that claims I’m the best that nCw’s got to offer, but these past couple of months, it sure hasn’t seemed like I’m the worthy champion I try to make myself out to be.”
Jack’s grin grows broader as he shrugs.
“Now I wasn’t expecting to be somehow magically ‘empowered’ by the World Title as if it were some sort of power pack when I wore it.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“Maybe it was my kryptonite? I was getting an inflated sense of ego that had an adverse effect on my ‘powers’ with each passing hour that I held the belt or some such.”
Jack rolls his shoulders in a casual shrug once more still drawing ever closer to the camera.
“Maybe this Sunday it will be my final downfall? That The Ace will stand victorious this time, realising his own dream, a dream he had been nurturing since the day he arrived here.”
Jack finally arrives infront of the camera with a grin.
“Well, let me try to put it in a way that seems more Ace’s language. What are my odds of walking out this Sunday, still World Champion?”
He holds up his hands disarmingly, shaking his head.
“As much as I hate to repeat myself, I will put my hands up and say once again; I have never beaten Ace in a singles match, and to be honest I haven’t done that well in most of my other matches with him. Perhaps it was just luck that saw me getting to raise the belt over my head at Crossroads?”
Jack smirks at the camera, folding his arms across his chest.
“If we do go by records and history, two things I feel I’ve had to listen to in these past few weeks, I shouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. If we follow statistics and odds, The Ace should feel safe in the fact that the numbers are quite firmly on his side.”
A frown comes across Hammond’s face, one that betrays an annoyance, helped only by a hint of irritation in his voice.
“But if I’m being quite frank, bollocks to statistics, facts, figures and all that ruddy nonsense. Having to be told that my defeat is inevitable thanks to some maths makes me begin to see red and the only way I feel I can get through it is by imagining my maths teacher being forced to endure a marathon of Age Of Revolution promos, joined with special director’s commentary from Kelly Fox until his head explodes.”
Jack pauses for a second, his eyes glazing over for a moment as that image seems to settle in his head, a satisfied grin coming across his features. He manages to catch himself, clearing his throat, muttering a sheepish 'sorry'.
“Now Ace, I think it’s rather sweet and all thinking that I’m some sort of superhero. If anything it brings images to mind of me flying through the skies, saving fair damsels in distress and defeating hideous monsters in epic battles, but I’m not sure if that’s a gimmick I’d pull off well. Being the shortest competitor in the nCw means that I’d have to buy a kid’s costume and look a bit of a berk and as for the hideous monsters, I think if I were to try to punch out Kelly Fox, I’d be out on my ear.”
He can’t help but let slip a cheeky grin before he carries on.
“But if I’m honest, I was never really that much of a comic book kid, so most of those references you made, I had to spend a few hours trawling Wikipedia to get any of what you were saying.”
He scratches his head, for a second, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.
“Now I’m not a simple man...”
There’s a cough from behind the camera and Jack deadpans before sighing in exasperation.
“Okay, it’s debatable, but I wouldn’t mind in future if you tried to put your terms in a less...geeky way. You wouldn’t like it if I started rabbiting on about my cars now, would you? For instance, if I were to liken myself to my Porsche 911 in that because the engine is in the back, somewhere you wouldn’t expect, you don’t know which way I’m going to come from. All I have to do is stamp on the accel-”
A rolled up ball of paper sails into shot, aimed at Jack’s head, breaking his mind-numbingly boring line of rant before it started. He grins.
“Y’see?”
He sighs again before tossing the paper ball back out of shot of the camera.
“Ace, you say you don’t want to be humiliated. That’s fair enough, I don’t want to go out on Sunday and give you a purple nurple or pull your pants down in the middle of Madison Square Gardens...no matter how grin-inducingly tempting it may be.”
Jack grins confidently.
“So how about I just pin you? We wrestle a match and if it’s fine by you, I put your shoulders to the mat and pick up the three count, and you leave with your dignity intact? Sure, it may seem you’re getting the short end of the stick, being beaten by a man to whom you’ve never lost one-on-one, having that dream of yours dashed, knowing that I am truly the better man?”
He pauses, tapping a finger to his chin thoughtfully.
“Actually, now that I think about it, that probably wouldn’t be a very graceful way to end your night, would it?”
That cheeky grin of Hammond’s slips through again.
“So, Ace. I leave it to you to decide how I’m to be dealt with. Am I just a statistic, or can you open your eyes and see me for what I really am? A wildcard, an outside runner, the underdog...someone whose determination and passion for this business you will feel full force this Sunday in the ring.”
His grin only grows as he points and walks past the camera, the angle panning around to follow him, alighting on a certain building.
“Madison Square Garden. It’s just two men and all of those screaming fans the nCw World Heavyweight Championship on the line...and all bets are off, Ace.”
Jack turns to look at the imposing structure, arms akimbo as he stares at the stage for this Sunday. The scene fades out to black.
"New York. Quite possibly one of the most exciting and prosperous cities in the entire world. The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps...when people wanted to come to America in the old days, when this place was still growing, their first glimpse of this prosperous nation that they would have would be this city; Where the streets were said to be paved with gold, where everybody was a somebody."
He continues his confident strut down the street, casting his gaze upward at the city's skyline.
"But of course, many of those dreams were shattered when they finally saw this city up close, stuck under the shadows of the skyscrapers that towered overhead. Their hopes of an easier life, of riches and luxury often becoming tales of hardship and despair..."
Jack chuckles as he looks back at the camera.
"Now before some of you wonder where I'm going with this, if you could just try to stick with me; this city and those tales can be awfully close to the stories of the business I'm in."
He frowns slightly, still walking towards the camera down the bustling street.
"Over a year ago, when I came into nCw, I was wide eyed and full of hope. I'd made it to the 'promised land' and had dreams of victories and glory...but within weeks, I'd been brought back down to earth with a rather uncomfortable bump in the form of loss after loss. Each time I thought I'd gotten a level head, those fleeting dreams came back and I'd get all starry eyed."
Jack pauses in his speech, wincing.
"And, as is well documented, I paid the price dearly with each and every loss where I didn't want them...in grudge matches I’d vow to triumph, in stable wars where I didn’t want to let people down, in title matches I was lucky enough to find myself in...”
He grimaces at the memories, letting a wistful sigh pass his lips.
“But each and every loss was as important as each and every victory; each match was a lesson that I could take away and learn from. And I’ve learned from some of the best, some of those who have been in this industry for years longer than me. Fate, Dark Prophet, Christian Kane, Jackhammer, Trent Helms, AJ Pheonix, Xavier Williams...”
Jack pauses with a smirk.
“...The Ace.”
He sighs again, grinning again.
“Now before I get ahead of myself and try to pass myself off as some young Grasshopper, I’ve still got a ways to go. Sure, I have a belt around my waist that claims I’m the best that nCw’s got to offer, but these past couple of months, it sure hasn’t seemed like I’m the worthy champion I try to make myself out to be.”
Jack’s grin grows broader as he shrugs.
“Now I wasn’t expecting to be somehow magically ‘empowered’ by the World Title as if it were some sort of power pack when I wore it.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“Maybe it was my kryptonite? I was getting an inflated sense of ego that had an adverse effect on my ‘powers’ with each passing hour that I held the belt or some such.”
Jack rolls his shoulders in a casual shrug once more still drawing ever closer to the camera.
“Maybe this Sunday it will be my final downfall? That The Ace will stand victorious this time, realising his own dream, a dream he had been nurturing since the day he arrived here.”
Jack finally arrives infront of the camera with a grin.
“Well, let me try to put it in a way that seems more Ace’s language. What are my odds of walking out this Sunday, still World Champion?”
He holds up his hands disarmingly, shaking his head.
“As much as I hate to repeat myself, I will put my hands up and say once again; I have never beaten Ace in a singles match, and to be honest I haven’t done that well in most of my other matches with him. Perhaps it was just luck that saw me getting to raise the belt over my head at Crossroads?”
Jack smirks at the camera, folding his arms across his chest.
“If we do go by records and history, two things I feel I’ve had to listen to in these past few weeks, I shouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. If we follow statistics and odds, The Ace should feel safe in the fact that the numbers are quite firmly on his side.”
A frown comes across Hammond’s face, one that betrays an annoyance, helped only by a hint of irritation in his voice.
“But if I’m being quite frank, bollocks to statistics, facts, figures and all that ruddy nonsense. Having to be told that my defeat is inevitable thanks to some maths makes me begin to see red and the only way I feel I can get through it is by imagining my maths teacher being forced to endure a marathon of Age Of Revolution promos, joined with special director’s commentary from Kelly Fox until his head explodes.”
Jack pauses for a second, his eyes glazing over for a moment as that image seems to settle in his head, a satisfied grin coming across his features. He manages to catch himself, clearing his throat, muttering a sheepish 'sorry'.
“Now Ace, I think it’s rather sweet and all thinking that I’m some sort of superhero. If anything it brings images to mind of me flying through the skies, saving fair damsels in distress and defeating hideous monsters in epic battles, but I’m not sure if that’s a gimmick I’d pull off well. Being the shortest competitor in the nCw means that I’d have to buy a kid’s costume and look a bit of a berk and as for the hideous monsters, I think if I were to try to punch out Kelly Fox, I’d be out on my ear.”
He can’t help but let slip a cheeky grin before he carries on.
“But if I’m honest, I was never really that much of a comic book kid, so most of those references you made, I had to spend a few hours trawling Wikipedia to get any of what you were saying.”
He scratches his head, for a second, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.
“Now I’m not a simple man...”
There’s a cough from behind the camera and Jack deadpans before sighing in exasperation.
“Okay, it’s debatable, but I wouldn’t mind in future if you tried to put your terms in a less...geeky way. You wouldn’t like it if I started rabbiting on about my cars now, would you? For instance, if I were to liken myself to my Porsche 911 in that because the engine is in the back, somewhere you wouldn’t expect, you don’t know which way I’m going to come from. All I have to do is stamp on the accel-”
A rolled up ball of paper sails into shot, aimed at Jack’s head, breaking his mind-numbingly boring line of rant before it started. He grins.
“Y’see?”
He sighs again before tossing the paper ball back out of shot of the camera.
“Ace, you say you don’t want to be humiliated. That’s fair enough, I don’t want to go out on Sunday and give you a purple nurple or pull your pants down in the middle of Madison Square Gardens...no matter how grin-inducingly tempting it may be.”
Jack grins confidently.
“So how about I just pin you? We wrestle a match and if it’s fine by you, I put your shoulders to the mat and pick up the three count, and you leave with your dignity intact? Sure, it may seem you’re getting the short end of the stick, being beaten by a man to whom you’ve never lost one-on-one, having that dream of yours dashed, knowing that I am truly the better man?”
He pauses, tapping a finger to his chin thoughtfully.
“Actually, now that I think about it, that probably wouldn’t be a very graceful way to end your night, would it?”
That cheeky grin of Hammond’s slips through again.
“So, Ace. I leave it to you to decide how I’m to be dealt with. Am I just a statistic, or can you open your eyes and see me for what I really am? A wildcard, an outside runner, the underdog...someone whose determination and passion for this business you will feel full force this Sunday in the ring.”
His grin only grows as he points and walks past the camera, the angle panning around to follow him, alighting on a certain building.
“Madison Square Garden. It’s just two men and all of those screaming fans the nCw World Heavyweight Championship on the line...and all bets are off, Ace.”
Jack turns to look at the imposing structure, arms akimbo as he stares at the stage for this Sunday. The scene fades out to black.