Post by Derek Brooks on Jul 24, 2017 4:44:46 GMT
DRIP! DRIP! DRIP!
The sounds of sweat dripping down into a puddle formed on the cement in front of him were the only thing that could be heard. One after another they fell, some wonder if this is actually sweat while others might argue that it is the fountain of youth bottled up in a man, but regardless, that’s for another time and another place. He sits there, his hands folded in front of him as he replays his last match against Jake Conway in his head. He sees himself getting the upper hand, but he sees where it all went wrong and he raises his brows upward, his eyes now piercing into the camera.
It was one moment. A moment that should have never happened. It was a single moment in time where I let the emotions and the momentum carry overboard, swinging away at old man Conway until my heart was content, only to miss the final blow, the one that would have knocked that old man into next week.
It was then he showed that even the oldest of dogs have tricks up their sleeve. He ducked, planted me, hit me with a FameAcer, and just like that, the whole thing was over, and unto that I say to you Jake Conway, congratulations. You showed that when push came to shove, on that night, you were the better man, and that will have to be tested once more in the near future my friend, I assure you of that.
He throws his hand out to the side.
But that was then, and it’s time to move onto the present, time to switch things up a bit, and it’s time to focus on THE MAN!
A bit of a snicker crosses over his lips. He found this all amusing to be fair.
You see, Andrew Jacobsen, Champ, last week I told Jake Conway that he was merely a lion. He led nothing, he was quite simply, just there. I said YOU were THE lion. You were the leader of the pride, the king of the jungle, all that crap. You were the end goal, and he was just a step to getting there. He was the means and you sir, were the end.
He shakes his head, the disdain clear on his face.
Now I didn’t win last week, but apparently, someone, somewhere heard those remarks and they thought it a good idea for me to step in the ring with you and see if I could indeed knock off the king of this jungle known as the IWF.
He points toward himself.
But I’m no fool...no, no, no, that would be the goofy ass barber who gave you your haircut. Unlike him who couldn’t see a straight line from a curve, I can see plain as day what’s going on here. I can understand the booking, and it’s not just based on what the man before you had to say, it’s about comparison. This committee of bookers wanted to give the talking heads a little something to talk about. They wanted them leading up to your match with Conway at Lineage to have a bit of a “He did this, he did it better” sort of thing, and quite frankly I don’t like being used like a sock puppet on Sesame Street...or under your blanket for that matter.
That being said, I want you to listen real clear Andrew. I want you to understand this with the clarity of a hooker knowing it is her role to give a blowjob for “x” amount of dollars. There will be no compare and contrast leading up to Lineage. There won’t be a game of one up between you and the Ace.
There will be between me and myself.
He stands from the chair, ready to take a stand both literally and figuratively.
You see you punkass bitch, I know what I did last week. I know the exact moment the train went off the rails, and I’ll be hot damned if I’ll let that happen again. I said last week was the biggest match of my young career, and at the time it was, but this match, a match against the man who holds the Imperial Championship, live in front of the world...it’s so much bigger.
Andrew, a win last week would have put me in the conversation for a shot at your championship, a win this week all but guarantees I get a shot at you with the title on the line, and pretty boy, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell on it’s hottest of days that I let that opportunity pass me by.
He points into the camera.
You’re the Imperial Champion, the man who won the Roulette and went on to achieve his dream at Night of the Immortals. You’re an inspiration to a mass of people who wish they could be just like you. The problem is Andrew, I’m not one of those people.
I don’t need the Hollywood good looks, though I have them, and a better haircut I might add. I don’t need the feel good story, because I guarantee you my life is anything but, and I don’t need the Goddamn happy ending, just an ending is perfectly fine.
So bring the shiny belt on Sacrifice. Bring the bad haircut, and damn it, bring your “A” game. I want the test of a lifetime, just as I got last week from Conway. I want to say I beat the best of the best, and I will settle for absolutely, positively nothing less.
You bring it Andrew...JUST...BRING IT!
Things Just Got Serious - Part 6: A Crew
Last you saw, I had just escaped Shane’s abandoned warehouse. It was a place I had taken many a person to interrogate them, rough them up, and pretty much what was done to me, was done to them. I got free, escaped, and left Shane a little message that basically told him he chose “or else” from our little conversation weeks earlier.
Now out, and of my own free will, it was time to act. I didn’t want it fast though, because let’s face it, that would be too good for that fat piece of shit. Not only that, but he was dragging my own punishment out over time, and that just needed to be repaid in full.
After getting away, I set up shop in an area of the city I knew Shane’s men didn’t operate, and I got a hold of my friend Brett. I told him what was done to me, and I told him I was done with this shit and Shane needed to go down. I told him I would heal a few days from the multiple wounds inflicted upon me, and now those few days were up and after some solid meals, and rest, I was almost a new man again. I picked up the phone and called Brett. ”How many do you have?”
The how many was in reference to the number of guys he could muster up that wanted to take on the task of taking out one of the biggest game runners in the city. ”I got up to ten right now.”
”Good, bring them over. We have to start this war here and now. See you in twenty? Good.” I hung up the phone. Most of the guys Bret could get a hold of were those who were in a similar position to himself. Those who owed Shane money, but couldn’t afford to repay it due to their excessive gambling, need for drugs, or whatever other reason they may have.
I knew the best way to get to Shane was through mind games. It wasn’t that Shane was an idiot. That was by far the farthest thing from the truth. What was true about Shane is the fact that he was a giant hothead. It was easy to get under his skin, as I exploited in our brief encounters after I turned on him. I knew how to push his buttons, and the first step in the plan was sabotage.
I waited the twenty minutes until I heard a knock at the door. I looked through the peephole, and once I was sure of who it was, I opened the door and let them in. They stood around as I closed the door behind me. ”Gentlemen, I understand that you’ve all been wronged by Shane in the past.”
They grumbled their grievances. ”Shhh, I get it. The man is a hardass who uses people, and exploits them until he has no need for them anymore, then casts them aside like trash on a curb. I was one of those men, and he went to great lengths to bring me back to the city...though throwing him through glass might have exasperated those efforts quite a bit.”
There was a laugh shared. ”The man hung me in a warehouse and tortured me, not for information, but because he’s a sick twisted asshole, and I think he needs to be taught a lesson.”
There was clear agreement as I continued. ”Not only does he need to be taught a lesson...he needs to be shut down.”
This got a bigger reaction. ”The way to do that is to get inside his egotistical head. The best way to do that is to piss him off, and the best way to do that is screw things up for his organization, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
One of the men spoke up. ”How?”
”I have an inside man. He’s with us through and through, and he just so happens to be close to the inner circle. He’ll let us know when something is going down, and we’ll figure out the best way to screw it up royally but also to the point where it’s untraceable. This needs to be done right, or else it won’t succeed. When I hear from him, we’ll reconvene here, and that’s where we’ll make our move. Understood?” They all nodded in agreement. ”Good, now go, and wait for the call.”
They filed out one after another, each nodding, showing a sign of respect, as well as a symbol of their devotion to our cause. Step one was complete...I had backers to my cause...step two was next...execution.
The sounds of sweat dripping down into a puddle formed on the cement in front of him were the only thing that could be heard. One after another they fell, some wonder if this is actually sweat while others might argue that it is the fountain of youth bottled up in a man, but regardless, that’s for another time and another place. He sits there, his hands folded in front of him as he replays his last match against Jake Conway in his head. He sees himself getting the upper hand, but he sees where it all went wrong and he raises his brows upward, his eyes now piercing into the camera.
It was one moment. A moment that should have never happened. It was a single moment in time where I let the emotions and the momentum carry overboard, swinging away at old man Conway until my heart was content, only to miss the final blow, the one that would have knocked that old man into next week.
It was then he showed that even the oldest of dogs have tricks up their sleeve. He ducked, planted me, hit me with a FameAcer, and just like that, the whole thing was over, and unto that I say to you Jake Conway, congratulations. You showed that when push came to shove, on that night, you were the better man, and that will have to be tested once more in the near future my friend, I assure you of that.
He throws his hand out to the side.
But that was then, and it’s time to move onto the present, time to switch things up a bit, and it’s time to focus on THE MAN!
A bit of a snicker crosses over his lips. He found this all amusing to be fair.
You see, Andrew Jacobsen, Champ, last week I told Jake Conway that he was merely a lion. He led nothing, he was quite simply, just there. I said YOU were THE lion. You were the leader of the pride, the king of the jungle, all that crap. You were the end goal, and he was just a step to getting there. He was the means and you sir, were the end.
He shakes his head, the disdain clear on his face.
Now I didn’t win last week, but apparently, someone, somewhere heard those remarks and they thought it a good idea for me to step in the ring with you and see if I could indeed knock off the king of this jungle known as the IWF.
He points toward himself.
But I’m no fool...no, no, no, that would be the goofy ass barber who gave you your haircut. Unlike him who couldn’t see a straight line from a curve, I can see plain as day what’s going on here. I can understand the booking, and it’s not just based on what the man before you had to say, it’s about comparison. This committee of bookers wanted to give the talking heads a little something to talk about. They wanted them leading up to your match with Conway at Lineage to have a bit of a “He did this, he did it better” sort of thing, and quite frankly I don’t like being used like a sock puppet on Sesame Street...or under your blanket for that matter.
That being said, I want you to listen real clear Andrew. I want you to understand this with the clarity of a hooker knowing it is her role to give a blowjob for “x” amount of dollars. There will be no compare and contrast leading up to Lineage. There won’t be a game of one up between you and the Ace.
There will be between me and myself.
He stands from the chair, ready to take a stand both literally and figuratively.
You see you punkass bitch, I know what I did last week. I know the exact moment the train went off the rails, and I’ll be hot damned if I’ll let that happen again. I said last week was the biggest match of my young career, and at the time it was, but this match, a match against the man who holds the Imperial Championship, live in front of the world...it’s so much bigger.
Andrew, a win last week would have put me in the conversation for a shot at your championship, a win this week all but guarantees I get a shot at you with the title on the line, and pretty boy, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell on it’s hottest of days that I let that opportunity pass me by.
He points into the camera.
You’re the Imperial Champion, the man who won the Roulette and went on to achieve his dream at Night of the Immortals. You’re an inspiration to a mass of people who wish they could be just like you. The problem is Andrew, I’m not one of those people.
I don’t need the Hollywood good looks, though I have them, and a better haircut I might add. I don’t need the feel good story, because I guarantee you my life is anything but, and I don’t need the Goddamn happy ending, just an ending is perfectly fine.
So bring the shiny belt on Sacrifice. Bring the bad haircut, and damn it, bring your “A” game. I want the test of a lifetime, just as I got last week from Conway. I want to say I beat the best of the best, and I will settle for absolutely, positively nothing less.
You bring it Andrew...JUST...BRING IT!
Things Just Got Serious - Part 6: A Crew
Last you saw, I had just escaped Shane’s abandoned warehouse. It was a place I had taken many a person to interrogate them, rough them up, and pretty much what was done to me, was done to them. I got free, escaped, and left Shane a little message that basically told him he chose “or else” from our little conversation weeks earlier.
Now out, and of my own free will, it was time to act. I didn’t want it fast though, because let’s face it, that would be too good for that fat piece of shit. Not only that, but he was dragging my own punishment out over time, and that just needed to be repaid in full.
After getting away, I set up shop in an area of the city I knew Shane’s men didn’t operate, and I got a hold of my friend Brett. I told him what was done to me, and I told him I was done with this shit and Shane needed to go down. I told him I would heal a few days from the multiple wounds inflicted upon me, and now those few days were up and after some solid meals, and rest, I was almost a new man again. I picked up the phone and called Brett. ”How many do you have?”
The how many was in reference to the number of guys he could muster up that wanted to take on the task of taking out one of the biggest game runners in the city. ”I got up to ten right now.”
”Good, bring them over. We have to start this war here and now. See you in twenty? Good.” I hung up the phone. Most of the guys Bret could get a hold of were those who were in a similar position to himself. Those who owed Shane money, but couldn’t afford to repay it due to their excessive gambling, need for drugs, or whatever other reason they may have.
I knew the best way to get to Shane was through mind games. It wasn’t that Shane was an idiot. That was by far the farthest thing from the truth. What was true about Shane is the fact that he was a giant hothead. It was easy to get under his skin, as I exploited in our brief encounters after I turned on him. I knew how to push his buttons, and the first step in the plan was sabotage.
I waited the twenty minutes until I heard a knock at the door. I looked through the peephole, and once I was sure of who it was, I opened the door and let them in. They stood around as I closed the door behind me. ”Gentlemen, I understand that you’ve all been wronged by Shane in the past.”
They grumbled their grievances. ”Shhh, I get it. The man is a hardass who uses people, and exploits them until he has no need for them anymore, then casts them aside like trash on a curb. I was one of those men, and he went to great lengths to bring me back to the city...though throwing him through glass might have exasperated those efforts quite a bit.”
There was a laugh shared. ”The man hung me in a warehouse and tortured me, not for information, but because he’s a sick twisted asshole, and I think he needs to be taught a lesson.”
There was clear agreement as I continued. ”Not only does he need to be taught a lesson...he needs to be shut down.”
This got a bigger reaction. ”The way to do that is to get inside his egotistical head. The best way to do that is to piss him off, and the best way to do that is screw things up for his organization, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
One of the men spoke up. ”How?”
”I have an inside man. He’s with us through and through, and he just so happens to be close to the inner circle. He’ll let us know when something is going down, and we’ll figure out the best way to screw it up royally but also to the point where it’s untraceable. This needs to be done right, or else it won’t succeed. When I hear from him, we’ll reconvene here, and that’s where we’ll make our move. Understood?” They all nodded in agreement. ”Good, now go, and wait for the call.”
They filed out one after another, each nodding, showing a sign of respect, as well as a symbol of their devotion to our cause. Step one was complete...I had backers to my cause...step two was next...execution.
Well howdy there pardner.