Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Sept 11, 2017 3:17:28 GMT
This week is a week I've known was coming for a long time. I've known it was coming since High Stakes, all the way back in March. I've known it was coming ever since Spike Kane's feet hit that floor, ever since it was official that I was going to the main event of Night of the Immortals. I knew I was going to be Imperial Champion. I knew he would earn a shot at it. And I have been preparing myself this entire time, and it still might not be enough, because when I look across the ring at Spike Kane...I still see the man that beat the tar out of me to stay the Man of Steel.
I see his cunning in the ring. I see his adaptability, born of decades of wrestling. I see his desire, eating him from the inside out as he yearns to be champion. I see his willingness to go to the darkest places in his soul to make it happen. In short, I see every component of the God of Steel. I saw it last Monday, as we stepped into the ring across from each other. I saw it again when Ryan Shane brought us down to have it out. I saw it when he laid me out with a Thunderstruck to set the stage for his shot, I saw it when he kicked me in the face last week. I see the blood-soaked destroyer that I have been unable to summit...and I do not fear.
Spike, you know more than anyone else what staying Man of Steel Champion meant to you. You raged that if it weren't for Warren, you would still BE Man of Steel Champion. You knew the places you were willing to go to keep that title, and if you hadn't lost it you would still be that twisted wretch of a man, triumphant but soulless. I haven't had the chance to see you with Pandora. I've heard the rumors, of course. But the only rumor that makes me stop and listen is the one that she makes you happy. The rumor that she means something to you, that she makes you a better person. And that rumor fills me with hope.
Hope that maybe I wasn't throwing myself at a brick wall in vain. Hope that maybe something good can come out of all of this. Hope that there was even a sliver of a chance I could see the Spike Kane I used to know, the one you were all too happy to proclaim never existed just a few short months ago. And I was ready to be done. I was ready to leave it behind. If it meant so much to you to be the Man of Steel, so much that you didn't care that your own son was safe again...then I gave up, because it meant that you were right. The Spike Kane I knew was dead, and he died in that cage against James Gilmore. I gave up on you because you had given up on yourself a long time ago.
You talk a lot about how Pandora makes you a better person. About how much you care about her. I've heard the stories of you doing things for people, seemingly out of the goodness of your own heart. I don't buy it. I don't buy it, and I don't buy you. You're cut from the same cloth as your pupil, Jake Conway: you're snakes who would sell their own souls if it meant a moment of glory. But you, you're worse than Jake. You'd harm innocents if it meant you could keep your blood-drenched hands on ten pounds of gold for just a little bit longer. I called Nighthawk and asked him to team with me last week to send a message: actions have consequences, Spike. Just because one good woman loves you, that doesn't undo all the evil you've done.
We open on Andrew and Danielle walking through the training center of one of New York's many, many wrestling promotions. Andrew is dressed to compete, and Danielle is talking at him, checking notes on her phone as she expertly weaves her way through the equipment and bodies. Andrew, for his part, is walking straight at the ring, eyes narrowed and focused. "...you've got more in-ring experience with Spike than just about anyone else on the roster, and recently too. Ultimately, you're the expert, but I think I've highlighted a few areas where you could take adva—"
Andrew cuts her off, voice quiet. "Dani, I don't want you at ringside this week."
Danielle stops in her tracks, looking up with a confused expression on her face. "...run that one by me again, because I could swear that you said—"
Once again, Andrew cuts her off, still looking ahead, voice still calm. "I don't want you at ringside this week." He looks back, face a stoic mask. "Hang in the back, watch on the monitors. I've got to take Spike alone. Nobody else, no excuses, nothing for him to lean on if—when I win." The brief slip is caught quickly by Andrew, who seems to brush it off.
Danielle, though, doesn't. Her eyes narrow back at him, and she snaps back fiercely, trying to keep her emotions from overrunning her voice and barely succeeding. "You think I'm going to be a distraction? After all of this, after everything we've done together, all the hell you've gone through in front of me, NOW you want to send me to the back like I just don't matter?!"
Andrew shakes his head slowly, turning away and beginning to walk again. "Trust me. That's not it at all. Please, Dani. I'm asking you this as a favor. Stay in the back. Let me finish this with him. I'll make it up to you."
Danielle picks up the pace, grabbing Andrew's wrist and spinning him around again to face her. "The hell do you mean, make it up to me?! You're not giving me a goddamn answer, Andrew. Stop walking away and please, even if you have to pretend, act like I matter!"
Andrew yanks his wrist free, the stoic mask shattering, and his voice jumps in volume, not to shouting, but a far cry from the low, almost monotonous tone he was using. He's forceful, but there's a pleading in his tone as he speaks to Danielle, eyes firmly locked on hers. "I said that wasn't it at all, and I meant it. You matter. You matter a lot, Dani. You matter so much, and that's why I don't want you out there. I don't want Spike seeing you and using you as a target. I know you can defend yourself against most people, but you said it yourself: I'm the expert here. I have seen Spike Kane at his worst, and I know how much he wants to beat me. I don't want you in that firing line. Please...don't be at ringside."
Danielle pauses, taking in Andrew's words as he slumps back against a ringpost, seemingly drained from his words. Danielle takes a step forward, looking up at Andrew again, and when she speaks, her words are just as forceful as Andrew's, leveling a finger at him like it was loaded. "I know how dangerous Spike is. I was the one in the trainer's room with you each time you ended up on the wrong side of that raging bull. I have seen firsthand the damage he can inflict, and if you think I'm going to let you do some alpha male Spartan "with your shield or on it" martyr crap. I'm going out there with you knowing full well I could be in the crosshairs. And you are going to kick the ever-loving SHIT out of Spike Kane."
Danielle pauses, lowering her finger. "And then you're going to leave behind a piece. Just a little piece, but you're going to leave it behind, because you don't own vanquishing the God of Xtreme. No, he wrote that note when he broke into the Wrestle Factory and threw the man that made YOU a Man of 1,000 Holds down a stairwell." She sighs, nodding. "So. Request noted. Request denied. Anything else?"
Andrew pauses, hands shaking slightly with emotion. He nods, swallowing hard, and when he speaks his voice has a waver to it. "...understood. I'm worried. I just...I don't know what I'd do if he got his hands on you." His voice cracks slightly, and Andrew swallows hard again, exhaling slowly and trying to compose himself. "So, uh...I'm supposed to be teaching a seminar. Should we...?"
Danielle nods, and Andrew moves to walk forward again. Her hand goes out, though, and stops him, gently pressed against his chest. She takes a step in, looking up at Andrew as her gaze softens. "Andy...I know you wouldn't shut me out. And I know how dangerous this is. But I want to be there for you just as much as you want to be there for me. You may be the wrestling expert, but I've always been better with people. Trust me. I love you too much to do this if it weren't the right thing."
Andrew nods mutely, cracking a brief smile again. Danielle grins fondly back up at him, patting his shoulder, and she turns, gesturing ahead. Andrew nods, stepping forward again, and the two continue walking towards the back of the training area. Danielle reaches over, taking Andrew's hand, and Andrew gives her a brief squeeze, the couple walking away hand-in-hand as we fade away.
While you were making doe eyes at Pandora Freeman, you were gleefully trying to cripple a man who posed no threat to you so badly he could never walk again. You're a man of two faces, Spike, and I don't even know if it matters which is the real one anymore. If that goodness is a mask, then you're playing with the emotions of a woman who deserves so, so much better. If the evil is a mask, then you're so committed to playing the part of the God of Xtreme, you're so obsessed with living up to its title, that whatever bits of your soul you've scraped back together are ready to go out the window if it means reminding the world why they fear you.
I don't get to see behind the curtain, Spike. I don't get to see that gentle man. All I get to see is the man who disowned his own son, his own family, because he wasn't enough like his old man. He wasn't enough of a monster for you, Spike, so you refused to acknowledge him. I lie awake at night, knowing what you were willing to do to Warren, and it makes me worry for every single innocent who puts their trust in you. I don't want to think about it, Spike, but you make me. You make me assume the worst, because every single time I've seen you have a choice between what's right and what's wrong, you dove headlong down the wrong path with glee in your eyes and a smile in your heart.
This isn't a two-man affair, Spike. Ryan Shane still gets to be the one to seal one of our fates. But I'm treating him just like any other referee. He's the one wearing the stripes, but he's not the one I have to beat. I have to beat you, Spike. And Ryan? Call this down the middle for your own sake. You screw me over, you get to deal with Spike Kane ready to go to the darkest places in his heart in order to keep the Imperial Title and the retribution I'm going to want out of your hide. You screw him over, you have to deal with me AND a vengeful God of Xtreme ready to beat your brains out. Let us do what we have to, Ryan. For your own sake.
Spike, six years ago Monday night, we met in the ring. My partner that night was Rob Diamond, a man you call a friend. A man who was willing to answer your call last week. Your partner was...I don't need to remind you. I'm not going to drag Brad's name into this. I hadn't even been in the big time for two years, and I got into the ring with a veritable legend. And it was my side that won out. Here we are, six years later. If it weren't for the name, I wouldn't recognize the man across the ring from me as the one I locked up with all those years ago. I've been hurt by this business, Spike. My family's been hurt. It's made me slow to trust. And deep in my heart, I want to be wrong about you, I really do. But I'm not holding my breath.
I'm coming into this with a mountain on my shoulders. The terrible privilege of being a champion, the need to pay back every single sin you've inflicted on me and the people I care about, and the desire to not let this be the end. It's not going to be about how much of a monster you can be, Spike. I don't think there's enough of the man you were in you anymore to win. Prove me wrong. Prove the world wrong. Prove her right. Or do what you've tried to do before: break me. Go ahead, try it...and I'll remind you, one more time in front of the world, that I.
Am.
UNBREAKABLE.
I see his cunning in the ring. I see his adaptability, born of decades of wrestling. I see his desire, eating him from the inside out as he yearns to be champion. I see his willingness to go to the darkest places in his soul to make it happen. In short, I see every component of the God of Steel. I saw it last Monday, as we stepped into the ring across from each other. I saw it again when Ryan Shane brought us down to have it out. I saw it when he laid me out with a Thunderstruck to set the stage for his shot, I saw it when he kicked me in the face last week. I see the blood-soaked destroyer that I have been unable to summit...and I do not fear.
Spike, you know more than anyone else what staying Man of Steel Champion meant to you. You raged that if it weren't for Warren, you would still BE Man of Steel Champion. You knew the places you were willing to go to keep that title, and if you hadn't lost it you would still be that twisted wretch of a man, triumphant but soulless. I haven't had the chance to see you with Pandora. I've heard the rumors, of course. But the only rumor that makes me stop and listen is the one that she makes you happy. The rumor that she means something to you, that she makes you a better person. And that rumor fills me with hope.
Hope that maybe I wasn't throwing myself at a brick wall in vain. Hope that maybe something good can come out of all of this. Hope that there was even a sliver of a chance I could see the Spike Kane I used to know, the one you were all too happy to proclaim never existed just a few short months ago. And I was ready to be done. I was ready to leave it behind. If it meant so much to you to be the Man of Steel, so much that you didn't care that your own son was safe again...then I gave up, because it meant that you were right. The Spike Kane I knew was dead, and he died in that cage against James Gilmore. I gave up on you because you had given up on yourself a long time ago.
You talk a lot about how Pandora makes you a better person. About how much you care about her. I've heard the stories of you doing things for people, seemingly out of the goodness of your own heart. I don't buy it. I don't buy it, and I don't buy you. You're cut from the same cloth as your pupil, Jake Conway: you're snakes who would sell their own souls if it meant a moment of glory. But you, you're worse than Jake. You'd harm innocents if it meant you could keep your blood-drenched hands on ten pounds of gold for just a little bit longer. I called Nighthawk and asked him to team with me last week to send a message: actions have consequences, Spike. Just because one good woman loves you, that doesn't undo all the evil you've done.
We open on Andrew and Danielle walking through the training center of one of New York's many, many wrestling promotions. Andrew is dressed to compete, and Danielle is talking at him, checking notes on her phone as she expertly weaves her way through the equipment and bodies. Andrew, for his part, is walking straight at the ring, eyes narrowed and focused. "...you've got more in-ring experience with Spike than just about anyone else on the roster, and recently too. Ultimately, you're the expert, but I think I've highlighted a few areas where you could take adva—"
Andrew cuts her off, voice quiet. "Dani, I don't want you at ringside this week."
Danielle stops in her tracks, looking up with a confused expression on her face. "...run that one by me again, because I could swear that you said—"
Once again, Andrew cuts her off, still looking ahead, voice still calm. "I don't want you at ringside this week." He looks back, face a stoic mask. "Hang in the back, watch on the monitors. I've got to take Spike alone. Nobody else, no excuses, nothing for him to lean on if—when I win." The brief slip is caught quickly by Andrew, who seems to brush it off.
Danielle, though, doesn't. Her eyes narrow back at him, and she snaps back fiercely, trying to keep her emotions from overrunning her voice and barely succeeding. "You think I'm going to be a distraction? After all of this, after everything we've done together, all the hell you've gone through in front of me, NOW you want to send me to the back like I just don't matter?!"
Andrew shakes his head slowly, turning away and beginning to walk again. "Trust me. That's not it at all. Please, Dani. I'm asking you this as a favor. Stay in the back. Let me finish this with him. I'll make it up to you."
Danielle picks up the pace, grabbing Andrew's wrist and spinning him around again to face her. "The hell do you mean, make it up to me?! You're not giving me a goddamn answer, Andrew. Stop walking away and please, even if you have to pretend, act like I matter!"
Andrew yanks his wrist free, the stoic mask shattering, and his voice jumps in volume, not to shouting, but a far cry from the low, almost monotonous tone he was using. He's forceful, but there's a pleading in his tone as he speaks to Danielle, eyes firmly locked on hers. "I said that wasn't it at all, and I meant it. You matter. You matter a lot, Dani. You matter so much, and that's why I don't want you out there. I don't want Spike seeing you and using you as a target. I know you can defend yourself against most people, but you said it yourself: I'm the expert here. I have seen Spike Kane at his worst, and I know how much he wants to beat me. I don't want you in that firing line. Please...don't be at ringside."
Danielle pauses, taking in Andrew's words as he slumps back against a ringpost, seemingly drained from his words. Danielle takes a step forward, looking up at Andrew again, and when she speaks, her words are just as forceful as Andrew's, leveling a finger at him like it was loaded. "I know how dangerous Spike is. I was the one in the trainer's room with you each time you ended up on the wrong side of that raging bull. I have seen firsthand the damage he can inflict, and if you think I'm going to let you do some alpha male Spartan "with your shield or on it" martyr crap. I'm going out there with you knowing full well I could be in the crosshairs. And you are going to kick the ever-loving SHIT out of Spike Kane."
Danielle pauses, lowering her finger. "And then you're going to leave behind a piece. Just a little piece, but you're going to leave it behind, because you don't own vanquishing the God of Xtreme. No, he wrote that note when he broke into the Wrestle Factory and threw the man that made YOU a Man of 1,000 Holds down a stairwell." She sighs, nodding. "So. Request noted. Request denied. Anything else?"
Andrew pauses, hands shaking slightly with emotion. He nods, swallowing hard, and when he speaks his voice has a waver to it. "...understood. I'm worried. I just...I don't know what I'd do if he got his hands on you." His voice cracks slightly, and Andrew swallows hard again, exhaling slowly and trying to compose himself. "So, uh...I'm supposed to be teaching a seminar. Should we...?"
Danielle nods, and Andrew moves to walk forward again. Her hand goes out, though, and stops him, gently pressed against his chest. She takes a step in, looking up at Andrew as her gaze softens. "Andy...I know you wouldn't shut me out. And I know how dangerous this is. But I want to be there for you just as much as you want to be there for me. You may be the wrestling expert, but I've always been better with people. Trust me. I love you too much to do this if it weren't the right thing."
Andrew nods mutely, cracking a brief smile again. Danielle grins fondly back up at him, patting his shoulder, and she turns, gesturing ahead. Andrew nods, stepping forward again, and the two continue walking towards the back of the training area. Danielle reaches over, taking Andrew's hand, and Andrew gives her a brief squeeze, the couple walking away hand-in-hand as we fade away.
While you were making doe eyes at Pandora Freeman, you were gleefully trying to cripple a man who posed no threat to you so badly he could never walk again. You're a man of two faces, Spike, and I don't even know if it matters which is the real one anymore. If that goodness is a mask, then you're playing with the emotions of a woman who deserves so, so much better. If the evil is a mask, then you're so committed to playing the part of the God of Xtreme, you're so obsessed with living up to its title, that whatever bits of your soul you've scraped back together are ready to go out the window if it means reminding the world why they fear you.
I don't get to see behind the curtain, Spike. I don't get to see that gentle man. All I get to see is the man who disowned his own son, his own family, because he wasn't enough like his old man. He wasn't enough of a monster for you, Spike, so you refused to acknowledge him. I lie awake at night, knowing what you were willing to do to Warren, and it makes me worry for every single innocent who puts their trust in you. I don't want to think about it, Spike, but you make me. You make me assume the worst, because every single time I've seen you have a choice between what's right and what's wrong, you dove headlong down the wrong path with glee in your eyes and a smile in your heart.
This isn't a two-man affair, Spike. Ryan Shane still gets to be the one to seal one of our fates. But I'm treating him just like any other referee. He's the one wearing the stripes, but he's not the one I have to beat. I have to beat you, Spike. And Ryan? Call this down the middle for your own sake. You screw me over, you get to deal with Spike Kane ready to go to the darkest places in his heart in order to keep the Imperial Title and the retribution I'm going to want out of your hide. You screw him over, you have to deal with me AND a vengeful God of Xtreme ready to beat your brains out. Let us do what we have to, Ryan. For your own sake.
Spike, six years ago Monday night, we met in the ring. My partner that night was Rob Diamond, a man you call a friend. A man who was willing to answer your call last week. Your partner was...I don't need to remind you. I'm not going to drag Brad's name into this. I hadn't even been in the big time for two years, and I got into the ring with a veritable legend. And it was my side that won out. Here we are, six years later. If it weren't for the name, I wouldn't recognize the man across the ring from me as the one I locked up with all those years ago. I've been hurt by this business, Spike. My family's been hurt. It's made me slow to trust. And deep in my heart, I want to be wrong about you, I really do. But I'm not holding my breath.
I'm coming into this with a mountain on my shoulders. The terrible privilege of being a champion, the need to pay back every single sin you've inflicted on me and the people I care about, and the desire to not let this be the end. It's not going to be about how much of a monster you can be, Spike. I don't think there's enough of the man you were in you anymore to win. Prove me wrong. Prove the world wrong. Prove her right. Or do what you've tried to do before: break me. Go ahead, try it...and I'll remind you, one more time in front of the world, that I.
Am.
UNBREAKABLE.
Well howdy there pardner.