Post by Jack Hammond on Mar 22, 2009 5:46:13 GMT -6
Night envelops the Big Apple, but light seems to bleed from every possible place in the city, making it glow like a beacon in the darkness. The noise from the day only seems to grow louder, cars still honking, people bustling on the streets, the entertainment districts buzzing with activity. In one of these particular areas we find the nCw World Heavyweight Champion, Jack Hammond. Perched precariously on a barstool, 'How Hard Can It Be?' t-shirt on his chest, beer in hand, he positively beams at the camera set up behind the bar’s counter, leaning forward slightly to be heard over the noise of the people, most of them wearing a variety of nCw branded paraphernalia, crowding the cosy establishment.
“So here I am. In the heart of things, rubbing shoulders with fans, having a drink and generally enjoying myself. Perhaps it’s not the most ideal thing to do, only one night away from a match that determines if I walk away still nCw World Champion, and perhaps I should be gearing myself up, doing some serious concentrating, or heaving away at some weights instead. I am, after all, trying to set a good example as a ‘serious’ champ.”
Jack nods sagely to himself, casually taking a swig of his beer, finishing it off before signaling for another.
“However, as many of you may have noticed, being all serious and frowny isn’t exactly my strong suit. Tends to be I can only bang on about the brass-tacks stuff for so long before I send even myself to sleep.”
He lowers a hand to the smooth countertop as a mug of beer slides into shot, casually catching it and bringing it up to his lips as he keeps yammering away into the camera.
“I’ve also had a few disparaging comments from of a few of my ‘drinking buddies’ here tonight, saying that there’s nothing wrong with sticking with the whiny-emo-bullcrap before launching into a full-frontal assault on an opponents’ ego.”
Hammond glances over his shoulder at the heaving mass of nCw fans, all chattering away, a couple raising their glasses with some typical slurred yells of indistinguishable noise. Jack chuckles and shrugs at the camera.
“So what’s wrong with giving the people what they want?”
He leans forwards on the counter, that cheeky grin of his spreading across his face.
“Now, I’m not a godfearing man...well I’m not even that religious, aside from the usual collection of taking the Lord’s name in vain whenever I stub my toe, ding my Porsche against another car or are forced to endure a family reunion so sappy, even my wife, a romance fanatic would have trouble stomaching it.”
He clears his throat not too subtly as he continues.
“Needless to say, the thought of some large, bearded being somewhere above me running the shots is about as appealing to me as shaking Kelly Fox’s hand.”
Jack arches an eyebrow.
“I mean, honestly, who knows where it’s been?”
He shudders to emphasize the point, taking a calming swig of beer before sighing.
“Though speaking of large, bearded beings, I did see Mike Honcho around here somewhere. I think he was wearing a t-shirt I’ve seen being slung around that bears a rather...interesting message about our fair general manager.”
Jack tries to suppress a chuckle before holding up his arms disarmingly, putting on his best ‘innocent’ face.
“Honestly, I have no idea where they’ve been coming from and quite frankly it’s just mean. Who on earth would stoop down to such a level?”
He tries to look disapproving just as a fan wearing a licensed fake Mike Honcho mustache sidles up, tapping Jack on the shoulder.
“Uh, sorry man. You got any more of those Kelly Fox tees for sale?”
Jack freezes up, looking at the camera and swallowing with a nervous smile.
“Uh...hmm? Sorry, I don’t think you’ve got the right man.”
The other man blinks, looking slightly confused before pointing over to someone.
“But you sold one to my pal earlier though. Look.”
Jack cranes his neck over, the crowd ‘magically’ parting to reveal a person sitting at just the right angle for the camera see that they are indeed wearing a t-shirt with big bold lettering reading ‘I’ve Been In Kelly Fox And All I Got Was This Nasty Itch’.
“...oh. Uh...”
A silence seems to settle over the bar as Jack pauses, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. He sputters and looks around for a few seconds before deadpanning and looking at the man and muttering.
“Okay, but give me 15 minutes.”
The fan nods happily as the crowd fills back up, the hubbub quickly rising, Jack turning back to the camera, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a fit of giggles, managing to mask it by bringing his mug of beer to his lips. After he seems to have them under control he lets out an exasperated sigh.
“Okay, I suppose I’ve had my fun there, as well as a killing in the profits. But I was hoping that it shows how confident I am about putting one up the nose of those who like to believe that I’m still someone to be underestimated. That I’m just a ‘transitional’ Champion and I will be forgotten so fast, it’ll make my head spin.”
Jack shrugs, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.
“Now have these people been living under a rock for the past few months? Perhaps they were too caught up in their own self-satisfied orgy of power and evil that they blinked and missed what’s been going on in this company. Perhaps issues at home have been clouding their judgement and leads them to rather overarching opinions about themselves?”
Jack pauses before sighing and shaking his head.
“Okay, I’ll admit that was a bit of a low blow...well, a high blow if you consider the height difference, but quite frankly, Ace has the ability to get right up my chuff like nobody’s business. Not only does he go over my every word with a fine tooth comb to try to bring up the best comebacks, but I can’t tell if he’s trying to frighten me or gain my trust.”
Hammond scratches his head for a moment before looking at one hand as he begins switching to the other with each pause.
“First he respects me. Then he threatens me. Then he taunts me. Then he respects me again. Then he talks about Jesus for a while, and quite frankly I get enough of that back home with the local Jehovah's Witness headquarters just around the corner. Then he wants to be friends, then he wants to wipe the canvas with me, then he wants to kiss and make up and then I saw a squirrel playing outside and I lost interest.”
Jack frowns and sighs with exasperation.
“Can the man could just make his mind up, or is he trying a clever ruse to confuse me to death?”
He deadpans and takes a swig of his beer, looking over his shoulder at the fans, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
“Okay, perhaps I’ve been a little too vague in this promo. Perhaps I’m trying to get a few cheap laughs in order to calm myself down, to make myself try not to think about the one thought that has been running through my head these past few hours...”
Hammond looks up at the camera with a genuine look of concern on his face.
“I’m scared.”
Jack pauses, frowning to himself for a while, trying to gather his thoughts as it seems the hubbub of the crowd behind him dying down little by little.
“We all try to hide it when we are afraid and I suppose my automatic reaction is to try to crack a joke, pull a funny face and laugh it off. I can have a few beers or lock myself away in my car and fool myself into believing everything will be okay. I can poke fun to make people ignore my own weaknesses and flaws but there is always that little lump sitting in my stomach, clawing at me, trying to drag me down.”
He stares down into his beer, a pained expression crossing his features.
“I mean, what if? What if this Sunday I do prove what a world-class cock up I really am? What if everything that’s been said about me comes true? What if the dream becomes a nightmare and I fall into obscurity?”
Hammond frowns to himself.
“Perhaps this is my penance for winning a title on someone else’s terms, that I deserve to be punished for my pride and complacency. Perhaps I should have never won this title at all and keep my head down like I’ve been told to. The pressure, the stress, all the people staring at my back and the target that I’ve painted there, just waiting for me to slip up.”
Jack lowers his head, shaking slightly, trying to hide his face and his shame.
“It just makes me wonder...why me? I’m just some short bloke who wanted to have some fun and look where I’ve gone? I open my eyes, I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light. I can’t remember how, I can’t remember why I'm in here tonight. And I can’t stand the pain and I can’t make it go away...No I can’t stand the pain...”
There’s a pause, perhaps giving some people some time to see where exactly those fateful words come from before Jack raises his head, with what appears to be some hastily and badly applied makeup on his face as he, and most of the other people in the bar raise their voices in chorus.
“How could this happen to me?!”
The words hang in the air before Jack sniggers and bursts out laughing, joined quickly by the ‘patrons’ of the bar, a light smattering of applause rippling through them. Hammond turns to shakes a few hands before the hubbub rises again and he turns to the camera again, grinning broadly.
“They say that laughter is the best medicine, and despite those niggling doubts, I’m proud to say that I’m the nCw World Heavyweight Champion. Maybe I will lose tomorrow, but unlike some, it won’t crush me. If I can still crack a joke and have the pride of having been at one time in my career been called the Champ, then that’s fine by me. And despite what I’ve said, Ace, I can’t think of anyone else I’d be happier to lose to. So long as we give each and every one of our fans something to remember tomorrow night, so long as we can leave with our dignity intact, so long as it annoys The Age Of The Resistance, it will be, at the very least, a great laugh.”
However, a cheeky Hamster grin appears on his face.
“Though that said, perhaps being the Champion for a little while longer wouldn’t hurt. After all, in order for what we’re promising these fans to happen, I do have to put a bit of effort into it, mate. I mean, how hard can it be?”
Jack winks at the camera, taking another swig of his beer, slamming down the empty mug and signaling for another beer, a bottle being pushed his way this time. He pauses before raising the bottle to the camera.
“This one’s to your health, Ace.”
He takes a short swig before grinning confidently and raising it again.
“And this one’s to me.”
Jack chuckles before turning from the camera and hopping off the stool to mingle with the crowd, the scene fading out to black on the merry revelers.
“So here I am. In the heart of things, rubbing shoulders with fans, having a drink and generally enjoying myself. Perhaps it’s not the most ideal thing to do, only one night away from a match that determines if I walk away still nCw World Champion, and perhaps I should be gearing myself up, doing some serious concentrating, or heaving away at some weights instead. I am, after all, trying to set a good example as a ‘serious’ champ.”
Jack nods sagely to himself, casually taking a swig of his beer, finishing it off before signaling for another.
“However, as many of you may have noticed, being all serious and frowny isn’t exactly my strong suit. Tends to be I can only bang on about the brass-tacks stuff for so long before I send even myself to sleep.”
He lowers a hand to the smooth countertop as a mug of beer slides into shot, casually catching it and bringing it up to his lips as he keeps yammering away into the camera.
“I’ve also had a few disparaging comments from of a few of my ‘drinking buddies’ here tonight, saying that there’s nothing wrong with sticking with the whiny-emo-bullcrap before launching into a full-frontal assault on an opponents’ ego.”
Hammond glances over his shoulder at the heaving mass of nCw fans, all chattering away, a couple raising their glasses with some typical slurred yells of indistinguishable noise. Jack chuckles and shrugs at the camera.
“So what’s wrong with giving the people what they want?”
He leans forwards on the counter, that cheeky grin of his spreading across his face.
“Now, I’m not a godfearing man...well I’m not even that religious, aside from the usual collection of taking the Lord’s name in vain whenever I stub my toe, ding my Porsche against another car or are forced to endure a family reunion so sappy, even my wife, a romance fanatic would have trouble stomaching it.”
He clears his throat not too subtly as he continues.
“Needless to say, the thought of some large, bearded being somewhere above me running the shots is about as appealing to me as shaking Kelly Fox’s hand.”
Jack arches an eyebrow.
“I mean, honestly, who knows where it’s been?”
He shudders to emphasize the point, taking a calming swig of beer before sighing.
“Though speaking of large, bearded beings, I did see Mike Honcho around here somewhere. I think he was wearing a t-shirt I’ve seen being slung around that bears a rather...interesting message about our fair general manager.”
Jack tries to suppress a chuckle before holding up his arms disarmingly, putting on his best ‘innocent’ face.
“Honestly, I have no idea where they’ve been coming from and quite frankly it’s just mean. Who on earth would stoop down to such a level?”
He tries to look disapproving just as a fan wearing a licensed fake Mike Honcho mustache sidles up, tapping Jack on the shoulder.
“Uh, sorry man. You got any more of those Kelly Fox tees for sale?”
Jack freezes up, looking at the camera and swallowing with a nervous smile.
“Uh...hmm? Sorry, I don’t think you’ve got the right man.”
The other man blinks, looking slightly confused before pointing over to someone.
“But you sold one to my pal earlier though. Look.”
Jack cranes his neck over, the crowd ‘magically’ parting to reveal a person sitting at just the right angle for the camera see that they are indeed wearing a t-shirt with big bold lettering reading ‘I’ve Been In Kelly Fox And All I Got Was This Nasty Itch’.
“...oh. Uh...”
A silence seems to settle over the bar as Jack pauses, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. He sputters and looks around for a few seconds before deadpanning and looking at the man and muttering.
“Okay, but give me 15 minutes.”
The fan nods happily as the crowd fills back up, the hubbub quickly rising, Jack turning back to the camera, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a fit of giggles, managing to mask it by bringing his mug of beer to his lips. After he seems to have them under control he lets out an exasperated sigh.
“Okay, I suppose I’ve had my fun there, as well as a killing in the profits. But I was hoping that it shows how confident I am about putting one up the nose of those who like to believe that I’m still someone to be underestimated. That I’m just a ‘transitional’ Champion and I will be forgotten so fast, it’ll make my head spin.”
Jack shrugs, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.
“Now have these people been living under a rock for the past few months? Perhaps they were too caught up in their own self-satisfied orgy of power and evil that they blinked and missed what’s been going on in this company. Perhaps issues at home have been clouding their judgement and leads them to rather overarching opinions about themselves?”
Jack pauses before sighing and shaking his head.
“Okay, I’ll admit that was a bit of a low blow...well, a high blow if you consider the height difference, but quite frankly, Ace has the ability to get right up my chuff like nobody’s business. Not only does he go over my every word with a fine tooth comb to try to bring up the best comebacks, but I can’t tell if he’s trying to frighten me or gain my trust.”
Hammond scratches his head for a moment before looking at one hand as he begins switching to the other with each pause.
“First he respects me. Then he threatens me. Then he taunts me. Then he respects me again. Then he talks about Jesus for a while, and quite frankly I get enough of that back home with the local Jehovah's Witness headquarters just around the corner. Then he wants to be friends, then he wants to wipe the canvas with me, then he wants to kiss and make up and then I saw a squirrel playing outside and I lost interest.”
Jack frowns and sighs with exasperation.
“Can the man could just make his mind up, or is he trying a clever ruse to confuse me to death?”
He deadpans and takes a swig of his beer, looking over his shoulder at the fans, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
“Okay, perhaps I’ve been a little too vague in this promo. Perhaps I’m trying to get a few cheap laughs in order to calm myself down, to make myself try not to think about the one thought that has been running through my head these past few hours...”
Hammond looks up at the camera with a genuine look of concern on his face.
“I’m scared.”
Jack pauses, frowning to himself for a while, trying to gather his thoughts as it seems the hubbub of the crowd behind him dying down little by little.
“We all try to hide it when we are afraid and I suppose my automatic reaction is to try to crack a joke, pull a funny face and laugh it off. I can have a few beers or lock myself away in my car and fool myself into believing everything will be okay. I can poke fun to make people ignore my own weaknesses and flaws but there is always that little lump sitting in my stomach, clawing at me, trying to drag me down.”
He stares down into his beer, a pained expression crossing his features.
“I mean, what if? What if this Sunday I do prove what a world-class cock up I really am? What if everything that’s been said about me comes true? What if the dream becomes a nightmare and I fall into obscurity?”
Hammond frowns to himself.
“Perhaps this is my penance for winning a title on someone else’s terms, that I deserve to be punished for my pride and complacency. Perhaps I should have never won this title at all and keep my head down like I’ve been told to. The pressure, the stress, all the people staring at my back and the target that I’ve painted there, just waiting for me to slip up.”
Jack lowers his head, shaking slightly, trying to hide his face and his shame.
“It just makes me wonder...why me? I’m just some short bloke who wanted to have some fun and look where I’ve gone? I open my eyes, I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light. I can’t remember how, I can’t remember why I'm in here tonight. And I can’t stand the pain and I can’t make it go away...No I can’t stand the pain...”
There’s a pause, perhaps giving some people some time to see where exactly those fateful words come from before Jack raises his head, with what appears to be some hastily and badly applied makeup on his face as he, and most of the other people in the bar raise their voices in chorus.
“How could this happen to me?!”
The words hang in the air before Jack sniggers and bursts out laughing, joined quickly by the ‘patrons’ of the bar, a light smattering of applause rippling through them. Hammond turns to shakes a few hands before the hubbub rises again and he turns to the camera again, grinning broadly.
“They say that laughter is the best medicine, and despite those niggling doubts, I’m proud to say that I’m the nCw World Heavyweight Champion. Maybe I will lose tomorrow, but unlike some, it won’t crush me. If I can still crack a joke and have the pride of having been at one time in my career been called the Champ, then that’s fine by me. And despite what I’ve said, Ace, I can’t think of anyone else I’d be happier to lose to. So long as we give each and every one of our fans something to remember tomorrow night, so long as we can leave with our dignity intact, so long as it annoys The Age Of The Resistance, it will be, at the very least, a great laugh.”
However, a cheeky Hamster grin appears on his face.
“Though that said, perhaps being the Champion for a little while longer wouldn’t hurt. After all, in order for what we’re promising these fans to happen, I do have to put a bit of effort into it, mate. I mean, how hard can it be?”
Jack winks at the camera, taking another swig of his beer, slamming down the empty mug and signaling for another beer, a bottle being pushed his way this time. He pauses before raising the bottle to the camera.
“This one’s to your health, Ace.”
He takes a short swig before grinning confidently and raising it again.
“And this one’s to me.”
Jack chuckles before turning from the camera and hopping off the stool to mingle with the crowd, the scene fading out to black on the merry revelers.