Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Sept 18, 2017 2:11:13 GMT
All I could think when that bell rang last week was...is this it?
I had beaten Spike Kane. I had finally, finally made the man who, more than anyone, defined the Man of Steel Championship as his own, submit. He made the belt as much as it made him, he was the measuring stick against which everyone else was inevitably measured...and I beat him. But as I let go of that Sharpshooter, finally stood up, I asked myself a question. Is this it? Is this the moment of vindication that I had hoped for, prayed for? I know it's been said that all I cared about was the title, but I've said it time and again: I would have given anything to see Spike be the man I knew he could.
And then he spun me on my heel, and I felt all of that uncertainty swell. That was a moment that could have gone a thousand ways. Was he going to do what I thought he would, what the whole world expected him to do? Or was he going to show that no matter what certain golden-eyed monsters think, hope was still alive and well? I knew what I thought was going to happen. I knew what I hoped would happen.
And then Michael Patrick Kane showed me that hope never dies.
Not even Ryan Shane blasting me in the face with the Imperial Championship that we had just gone to war over can taint that. Nothing could taint the fact that he had a choice. He could walk away, and let the man who denied him the prize that he so desperately hungered for get bludgeoned down...or he could do what he did. He could ignore the fact that his back was screaming in agony, he could ignore the scars that the absolute trial by fire we had been through had left, and he could come back and try to stop Ryan. He did. And I have never been happier to be wrong.
Make no mistake, Spike's got a lot to answer for, but he doesn't have to answer to me anymore. Nothing demanded that he do what he did but honor. Decency. The little things in life, right? But the point is, Spike made a choice. He refused to be a slave to his darker urges, to the impulses whispering in his ear that above all, the most important thing in the world was himself. He was selfless in that moment. And I, selfishly, thank him for that. Thank you for proving me wrong, Spike.
Now...what about the three of you?
Andrew blinks, forcing his eyes back open. "How long is this going to take? Like, I swear the scanning took less time last time..." The young woman working the facial capture equipment flashes a pained smile at Danielle, who plants her face in her hand as Andrew keeps talking. "Is this to do with the new graphics engine? 'cause I know that might take longe—"
Danielle cuts him off. "Andrew, it'll take less time if you shut up and stop throwing off the capture." She flashes a grin at Andrew, who blushes sheepishly before looking forward again. Pleased, the capture artist continues her work, and Danielle winks at her boyfriend. Andrew stares ahead, trying to breathe as imperceptibly as possible, and Danielle's grin grows wider. "Aww, come on. It's for a good cause, Andy. They wanted to make sure you were as up-to-date as possible for the Night of the Immortals DLC, and this was the best chance they had after the international tour."
The capture artist stands up, looking to Danielle. "I think we can take a break here. You two look like you have to have a bit of a conversation. We mostly needed touch-ups from the on-disc model. Besides, I have a few things to take care of."
Danielle nods, and the other woman leaves the room, picking up speed as she does. Andrew looks over to Danielle, sighing. "I know it is, but...we're a week and change from Extreme Endurance. Is now really the time to do this stuff? Can't it wait?"
Danielle smirks. "One, you know how they like having these things out for the Black Friday rush. Two, you don't really get an off-season, pretty-boy. Like I said, this was the best opportunity we had. Besides, you love doing promo work for the games...and we've talked about it. You need to stop worrying about training all the time. You have a life too. Why shouldn't you be able to live it?"
Andrew sighs. "I just...I don't know. I'm afraid if I stop training the way I do, I'm going to backslide, and when I do I'm going to have things blow up in my face." He looks to Danielle, a bit of a rueful grin on his face. "But you're right. I do need to take things a little easier. Maybe only a little, though. Not every challenger is going to be Ryan Shane."
Danielle clears her throat, a playful grin spreading on her own face. "That's the King of Detroit to you, you barbarian peasant...but I'm glad I could sway you to my way of thinking. And this time, I didn't even have to shake you by the shoulders or start crying."
Andrew opens his mouth to protest, but as he does, the capture artist walks back in, a chipper smile on her face. "Alright, now that that's taken care of, Miss Chase, could you grab a seat for me? This is going to take a bit longer, there's more they want to do with you. You haven't had an update in a while."
Danielle opens her mouth to protest, but as she looks back to Andrew she can see that his own grin has spread into what can best be described as a Cheshire cat grin. "Oh, you bitch, you knew about this."
Andrew merely quirks an eyebrow at his girlfriend, humor in his voice. "Dani, it'll take less time if you sit down and stop holding up the capture." Danielle opens her mouth to protest but, recognizing her own words being thrown in her face, merely turns and walks to the capture chair, sitting down and trying to force her irritated expression down. It's not very successful, and Andrew bursts into laughter as we fade away on his amusement and Danielle's fuming.
Steve. I want to start by saying I'm sorry. I don't know all the details of what's going on, but I know this is tearing you apart. It's your family, for Christ's sake. No man deserves to have their family ripped apart like this. Someone, hellbent on making themselves feel better about the wreck that is their own life, comes swooping in and systematically takes everything from you. Hurts the people you love. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and I wouldn't wish it on you.
But I wouldn't be human if I didn't confess that there's a little dark part of me that sees what's been said about this, sees how many people point the finger at what you did to me all those years ago...there's a part of me that's glad you're hurting. You're facing the end result of all those years ago when you preyed on my mother's insecurities for the sake of a cheap laugh. You're taking the karmic consequences of almost putting your feet through my father's chest when he stepped up to try to avenge the wrong you did to him, man to man. You're reaping what you decided to sow when you saw an up-and-comer, not even eighteen months as a professional wrestler, and you decided to rip his life apart because you were BORED. That part of me is laughing at your pain, Steve...and I hate myself for it.
I hate that I can find anything to enjoy in watching things be done to you that you did to me, to my father, with a grin on your face and blackness in your heart. I reached out to you, Steve, not because I like you, but because it's the right thing. I'll never really like you. I know none of my family will ever forgive you. My father, my brother...my mother...they're probably loving this. Me? I just want it all to stop.
This isn't how I wanted you to answer for what you've done, Steve. None of this is right. And the worst part? The thing that bothers me more than anything, Steve? I still forgive you. I forgive you because I have seen beneath the mask of Steve Awesome. I've seen how much you want to be loved, I've seen how lonely you are, and no matter how much satisfaction it brings those worst parts of me to see you suffer, I will never let that satisfaction win. So I forgive you, Steve...but as you're going to find out Monday, I will never forget.
I hate that I'm agreeing with the man that Xavier Cross has become. Xavier...you and I have been places. Scary places, dark places where brave men fear to tread, and we did it shoulder-to-shoulder as brothers in arms. But the man that I've seen in IWF...that's not the man I knew. No matter how much you hurt, you wouldn't have done what you're doing now. Or maybe you would. Maybe I wanted to feel for you so badly that it clouded my judgment. That's my gift and my curse. I care. Too much sometimes. And just like Steve, just like Spike, no matter what you do, I can't stop caring.
And I don't want to stop caring, Cross, because I've seen what happens when you stop caring in this business. You become nothing but calluses and fear, collapsing in on all of your flaws like a black hole. To get back to your heart, you have to cause so much pain, stab so deep that you don't know what else you take out on the way there. I saw those calluses forming, Xavier. I wanted to help you. I thought if we got something to fight for, we could find our ways that we'd lost. I saw how hard you worked, I saw how hurt you were. I never wanted you to hurt like that again. That's why I went to IWF talent relations, over and over again, telling them they had to sign you. I wanted to bring you home, or as close to home as we could get. I wanted you to succeed the way I KNEW you could.
But this...just like Steve, this isn't right. It's like looking into a funhouse mirror and seeing a warped version of reality. You can see where things are supposed to be, you can see what's right, but it's twisted, it's wrong...and it can't be real. Look at yourself in the mirror, Xavier. Is this the person you want to be? Is this ever going to let you be that man? I can't see that road, Xavier. And I don't know what to tell you to do. All I can tell you is what my gut and heart say: this isn't right. And maybe you and I are going to have it out when we get in that ring, because that's who we are. That's what we do. Maybe you'll remember that...I can only hope.
And before I go...a few words for my partner this week, Ryan Shane. Make no mistake, what you did last week was low. It was cowardly. It was unbecoming a man who thinks he's the kind of champion you think you were. You could have done so much better. You could have really been the man you think you ought to be. But you took the same easy, lazy path they all do. Cheap shots. Hiding behind a manager. Refusing to stand up and fight, refusing to be the man you so loudly crowed about being...hardly the kind of behavior I'd identify as Imperial Champion material.
But for this week, I'm putting that aside. We have a match to win. WE...have a match to win. Not "I have a match to win while you sit on the sidelines." WE. You're going to put work in, same as I am, because it's how a tag match goes. So bring your working boots, Ryan. Our title match is next week. Right now? Right now, we're allies. That may only last until that last bell rings, but it's going to last for the moment...or you're going to regret your life choices even more than you already do.
So do you want to go into Extreme Endurance riding the wave of a victory over two of the most skilled competitors in IWF? Or do you want to go into Extreme Endurance throwing another log on your funeral pyre? The choice is in your hands, Ryan. Don't choose poorly. Steve, Xavier...I'll see you at Sacrifice. Good luck. We're all going to need it.[/i]
I had beaten Spike Kane. I had finally, finally made the man who, more than anyone, defined the Man of Steel Championship as his own, submit. He made the belt as much as it made him, he was the measuring stick against which everyone else was inevitably measured...and I beat him. But as I let go of that Sharpshooter, finally stood up, I asked myself a question. Is this it? Is this the moment of vindication that I had hoped for, prayed for? I know it's been said that all I cared about was the title, but I've said it time and again: I would have given anything to see Spike be the man I knew he could.
And then he spun me on my heel, and I felt all of that uncertainty swell. That was a moment that could have gone a thousand ways. Was he going to do what I thought he would, what the whole world expected him to do? Or was he going to show that no matter what certain golden-eyed monsters think, hope was still alive and well? I knew what I thought was going to happen. I knew what I hoped would happen.
And then Michael Patrick Kane showed me that hope never dies.
Not even Ryan Shane blasting me in the face with the Imperial Championship that we had just gone to war over can taint that. Nothing could taint the fact that he had a choice. He could walk away, and let the man who denied him the prize that he so desperately hungered for get bludgeoned down...or he could do what he did. He could ignore the fact that his back was screaming in agony, he could ignore the scars that the absolute trial by fire we had been through had left, and he could come back and try to stop Ryan. He did. And I have never been happier to be wrong.
Make no mistake, Spike's got a lot to answer for, but he doesn't have to answer to me anymore. Nothing demanded that he do what he did but honor. Decency. The little things in life, right? But the point is, Spike made a choice. He refused to be a slave to his darker urges, to the impulses whispering in his ear that above all, the most important thing in the world was himself. He was selfless in that moment. And I, selfishly, thank him for that. Thank you for proving me wrong, Spike.
Now...what about the three of you?
Andrew blinks, forcing his eyes back open. "How long is this going to take? Like, I swear the scanning took less time last time..." The young woman working the facial capture equipment flashes a pained smile at Danielle, who plants her face in her hand as Andrew keeps talking. "Is this to do with the new graphics engine? 'cause I know that might take longe—"
Danielle cuts him off. "Andrew, it'll take less time if you shut up and stop throwing off the capture." She flashes a grin at Andrew, who blushes sheepishly before looking forward again. Pleased, the capture artist continues her work, and Danielle winks at her boyfriend. Andrew stares ahead, trying to breathe as imperceptibly as possible, and Danielle's grin grows wider. "Aww, come on. It's for a good cause, Andy. They wanted to make sure you were as up-to-date as possible for the Night of the Immortals DLC, and this was the best chance they had after the international tour."
The capture artist stands up, looking to Danielle. "I think we can take a break here. You two look like you have to have a bit of a conversation. We mostly needed touch-ups from the on-disc model. Besides, I have a few things to take care of."
Danielle nods, and the other woman leaves the room, picking up speed as she does. Andrew looks over to Danielle, sighing. "I know it is, but...we're a week and change from Extreme Endurance. Is now really the time to do this stuff? Can't it wait?"
Danielle smirks. "One, you know how they like having these things out for the Black Friday rush. Two, you don't really get an off-season, pretty-boy. Like I said, this was the best opportunity we had. Besides, you love doing promo work for the games...and we've talked about it. You need to stop worrying about training all the time. You have a life too. Why shouldn't you be able to live it?"
Andrew sighs. "I just...I don't know. I'm afraid if I stop training the way I do, I'm going to backslide, and when I do I'm going to have things blow up in my face." He looks to Danielle, a bit of a rueful grin on his face. "But you're right. I do need to take things a little easier. Maybe only a little, though. Not every challenger is going to be Ryan Shane."
Danielle clears her throat, a playful grin spreading on her own face. "That's the King of Detroit to you, you barbarian peasant...but I'm glad I could sway you to my way of thinking. And this time, I didn't even have to shake you by the shoulders or start crying."
Andrew opens his mouth to protest, but as he does, the capture artist walks back in, a chipper smile on her face. "Alright, now that that's taken care of, Miss Chase, could you grab a seat for me? This is going to take a bit longer, there's more they want to do with you. You haven't had an update in a while."
Danielle opens her mouth to protest, but as she looks back to Andrew she can see that his own grin has spread into what can best be described as a Cheshire cat grin. "Oh, you bitch, you knew about this."
Andrew merely quirks an eyebrow at his girlfriend, humor in his voice. "Dani, it'll take less time if you sit down and stop holding up the capture." Danielle opens her mouth to protest but, recognizing her own words being thrown in her face, merely turns and walks to the capture chair, sitting down and trying to force her irritated expression down. It's not very successful, and Andrew bursts into laughter as we fade away on his amusement and Danielle's fuming.
Steve. I want to start by saying I'm sorry. I don't know all the details of what's going on, but I know this is tearing you apart. It's your family, for Christ's sake. No man deserves to have their family ripped apart like this. Someone, hellbent on making themselves feel better about the wreck that is their own life, comes swooping in and systematically takes everything from you. Hurts the people you love. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and I wouldn't wish it on you.
But I wouldn't be human if I didn't confess that there's a little dark part of me that sees what's been said about this, sees how many people point the finger at what you did to me all those years ago...there's a part of me that's glad you're hurting. You're facing the end result of all those years ago when you preyed on my mother's insecurities for the sake of a cheap laugh. You're taking the karmic consequences of almost putting your feet through my father's chest when he stepped up to try to avenge the wrong you did to him, man to man. You're reaping what you decided to sow when you saw an up-and-comer, not even eighteen months as a professional wrestler, and you decided to rip his life apart because you were BORED. That part of me is laughing at your pain, Steve...and I hate myself for it.
I hate that I can find anything to enjoy in watching things be done to you that you did to me, to my father, with a grin on your face and blackness in your heart. I reached out to you, Steve, not because I like you, but because it's the right thing. I'll never really like you. I know none of my family will ever forgive you. My father, my brother...my mother...they're probably loving this. Me? I just want it all to stop.
This isn't how I wanted you to answer for what you've done, Steve. None of this is right. And the worst part? The thing that bothers me more than anything, Steve? I still forgive you. I forgive you because I have seen beneath the mask of Steve Awesome. I've seen how much you want to be loved, I've seen how lonely you are, and no matter how much satisfaction it brings those worst parts of me to see you suffer, I will never let that satisfaction win. So I forgive you, Steve...but as you're going to find out Monday, I will never forget.
I hate that I'm agreeing with the man that Xavier Cross has become. Xavier...you and I have been places. Scary places, dark places where brave men fear to tread, and we did it shoulder-to-shoulder as brothers in arms. But the man that I've seen in IWF...that's not the man I knew. No matter how much you hurt, you wouldn't have done what you're doing now. Or maybe you would. Maybe I wanted to feel for you so badly that it clouded my judgment. That's my gift and my curse. I care. Too much sometimes. And just like Steve, just like Spike, no matter what you do, I can't stop caring.
And I don't want to stop caring, Cross, because I've seen what happens when you stop caring in this business. You become nothing but calluses and fear, collapsing in on all of your flaws like a black hole. To get back to your heart, you have to cause so much pain, stab so deep that you don't know what else you take out on the way there. I saw those calluses forming, Xavier. I wanted to help you. I thought if we got something to fight for, we could find our ways that we'd lost. I saw how hard you worked, I saw how hurt you were. I never wanted you to hurt like that again. That's why I went to IWF talent relations, over and over again, telling them they had to sign you. I wanted to bring you home, or as close to home as we could get. I wanted you to succeed the way I KNEW you could.
But this...just like Steve, this isn't right. It's like looking into a funhouse mirror and seeing a warped version of reality. You can see where things are supposed to be, you can see what's right, but it's twisted, it's wrong...and it can't be real. Look at yourself in the mirror, Xavier. Is this the person you want to be? Is this ever going to let you be that man? I can't see that road, Xavier. And I don't know what to tell you to do. All I can tell you is what my gut and heart say: this isn't right. And maybe you and I are going to have it out when we get in that ring, because that's who we are. That's what we do. Maybe you'll remember that...I can only hope.
And before I go...a few words for my partner this week, Ryan Shane. Make no mistake, what you did last week was low. It was cowardly. It was unbecoming a man who thinks he's the kind of champion you think you were. You could have done so much better. You could have really been the man you think you ought to be. But you took the same easy, lazy path they all do. Cheap shots. Hiding behind a manager. Refusing to stand up and fight, refusing to be the man you so loudly crowed about being...hardly the kind of behavior I'd identify as Imperial Champion material.
But for this week, I'm putting that aside. We have a match to win. WE...have a match to win. Not "I have a match to win while you sit on the sidelines." WE. You're going to put work in, same as I am, because it's how a tag match goes. So bring your working boots, Ryan. Our title match is next week. Right now? Right now, we're allies. That may only last until that last bell rings, but it's going to last for the moment...or you're going to regret your life choices even more than you already do.
So do you want to go into Extreme Endurance riding the wave of a victory over two of the most skilled competitors in IWF? Or do you want to go into Extreme Endurance throwing another log on your funeral pyre? The choice is in your hands, Ryan. Don't choose poorly. Steve, Xavier...I'll see you at Sacrifice. Good luck. We're all going to need it.[/i]
Well howdy there pardner.