Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Feb 26, 2018 5:21:42 GMT
The battle never ends.
I pinned Angel Blake in the middle of that ring. One-two-three. And Angel decided that he wasn't done with me. He said he had a lesson to teach me and the world. He said that I needed to learn that good doesn't always win, that evil is sometimes necessary. He promised fire and ruin for me, interjected himself in a match he had no business in, and he worked with Dean Harper to topple myself and Bob Pooler last week. From where some people might be sitting, it looks like I've been dealt a bad hand. Maybe he's right, they say. Maybe good can't always win. But...I've got just a few problems with that, Angel.
The first problem is that I know that evil wins sometimes. I've known that for a long, long time. I've had it thrown in my face for years, ground into me by person after person: evil wins. Good loses. Why try to fight it? Join the winning side. Understand that villains triumph, because the world is harsh and uncaring. That's the message that everyone from Rob Diamond to Steve Awesome to Jake Conway tried to teach me: nice guys finish last, bastards succeed and get ahead.
I guess I'm just a bad student.
I've fallen victim to those words before. I've been weak. I've tried to walk the darker paths that you've preached. They. Never. Work. They're a betrayal of who I am, and someone else's lie is weaker than your own truth. It took me years to learn that lesson, the real lesson of my career. What works for Rob Diamond or Jake Conway or Angel Blake won't work for Andrew Jacobsen. I have to live my own life, the way I want to...and now that I've got the confidence to do so?
Look at what I've become.
Longest reign in company history. Most title defenses in history. Since winning the Roulette, I have found myself in a way that I never had before, and now more than ever, I need to hold to that truth. I cannot abandon myself now, I cannot abandon the people that have given me the strength to find myself now, of all times. This crisis of faith that you have imposed on me will pass, Angel, and it will pass with the words that you fear most of all ringing in your ears...
"Here is your winner, and STILL IWF Imperial Champion...Andrew. Jacobsen."
Andrew sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the bedside stand, nodding at the early hour, and stood up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. As he did, though, the light clicked on. Andrew blinked, covering his eyes and wincing as the light assaulted him. Silhouetted in the hotel doorway stands Danielle Chase, hands on her hips. Andrew reached over, flicking the light on near the bed. As Danielle's face is lit up, her expression is anything but pleased. "Andrew."
"Danielle." Andrew groaned, clutching the back of his neck. "What's going on? Why are you up?" He staggered around the side of the bed, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.
"I could ask you the same thing, Andrew." Danielle's hand went up, shaking an orange prescription bottle. "This is a new prescription, Andrew. You said you were done. What's the deal?"
Andrew sighed, shaking his head, and put up a hand as he walked towards Danielle. "It's...it's just to get me through the Mexico tour. Once we get back to the States, those go in the medicine cabinet and they don't come out. I promise." Andrew looked at Danielle with a plaintive expression on his face. "I just need to take a shower, work some of the tension out."
"Sure you do." Danielle deadpanned. "You're just going to knock back a handful of these babies and take another late-night ride, right?" Andrew's eyes widened, and Danielle smirked humorlessly. "Yeah, don't think I haven't figured out what you've been doing. You go out late, the car's gone, and you sometimes forget to take the bottle with you."
Andrew took a deep breath, sighing. "...yeah, I'm hurting. A lot." He looked up, eyes steely. "And I'm trying to take care of myself. I need to beat Angel, Dani. I can't let him win. I can't let him spread his message with the platform that winning the Imperial Title gives him."
Danielle sighed, shaking her head. "Andrew, I want you to slow down. I want you to spend your free time in rehab, and I want you..." she rattled the bottle in her hand again. "...to stop popping these. You need to learn how to manage your pain without this level of medication. It'll take you off your game." She shook her head again, tossing the bottle into the corner of the room and walking up to Andrew. Danielle reached up to caress Andrew's face, sighing. "You're better than this, baby. I know you are. Please, don't do this to yourself."
Andrew reached back up, cupping Danielle's hand with his own. "I'm going to try." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's hard. It's so hard. Every time it aches, every time I land and I feel that jolt run through my neck, I think of Dad. I ask myself 'what if this is it? What if this is the last time I land and can get back up?' It's..." he exhaled slowly, choking up a little. Danielle patted him on the cheek, nodding, and Andrew took a breath in before continuing. "I can't stop worrying about it...I can't stop worrying that the moment I lose the title, it all goes away."
Danielle nodded, biting her lower lip for a second before she spoke again. "Yeah. I get that. You hit a hot streak, and you don't want to get off the ride. But...they'll always love you, Andy. You've given so many people so much inspiration, you keep fighting for what's good and what's right...do it the right way." She smiled softly. "And if nothing else, at the end of the day I still love you. And I will keep loving you no matter what. Imperial Champion or not, wrestler or not, as long as you're still Andrew Jacobsen that'll never change."
Andrew nodded slowly again, pulling Danielle into a tender kiss. The two held each other for what could have been hours, neither wanting to let the other go. Finally, slowly, reluctantly, Andrew pulled away, meeting Danielle's gaze again. She smiled at him, an awkward smile more at home on a teenager than a woman of Danielle's professional capacity. Andrew's return grin was equally nerve-wracked, and he let out a nervous chuckle. Danielle smiled again, looking back to the door. "Alright. Tell you what. I'm going to use the bathroom, then you take that shower...and leave the door unlocked? I might have to..." she paused, grinning again. "Come back in for something?" Danielle winked at Andrew, taking a few steps back.
"Yes ma'am." Andrew grinned, and Danielle returned the grin, turning and walking into the bathroom. The door swung shut, and Andrew watched for a few long seconds before turning and quickly walking over into the corner of the room. Andrew knelt down, hands closing around something on the floor, and as he stood back up, he sighed, looking at the pill bottle. He looked around the room, a guilty expression flashing across his face, and slipped the bottle into his pocket, walking back over to the bed and sitting down again. Andrew watched the bathroom door, shoulders slumped and a guilty expression on his face as we fade to black.
There's one more flaw with your argument, Angel. I still have breath in my lungs, I still have life in my body. I can still fight, and as long as I can still fight, I get to shape my own story. If you want to defeat me, Angel, you'll need to take all of that from me. You'll need to sap me of all of my breath, drain every ounce of energy and every drop of blood from my body if you want to put me down. Angel, if you want to beat me, you're going to have to kill me...
Because that's the only way I'll stay down.
I've defied every obstacle in front of me thus far. I've beaten a man who many thought was unassailable, I've conquered the demons of my past, and I've put away the man who thought he was the future. Now, I stand in front of a man who thinks himself the Creator and the Destroyer, the Alpha and the Omega, He Who Is Called I Am. You're not God, Angel. I refuse to believe the world is run by you. The universe is not so badly designed.
You've slain heroes before. You broke Mason St. Croix and buried him alive. The thing that walked out of that grave wasn't Mason St. Croix, it was a shell wearing his face. You want to make an example of me the same way you made an example of him, striking down the wayward son and the defiant child who would stand against the Creator. I refuse to bend my knee to you. I refuse to let your gospel ring out and reign supreme, because you are not God. You are not my ruler. No matter the lies you tell yourself, the way your brain's warped, I reject them. But I can't shake your delusions. That's fine...
You can call yourself God, and I will show the world that a god can bleed.
This match is called an Angel of Death Match. It's a brutal combination of some of the most vicious match types in IWF. I know I will leave a part of myself in Mexico, and I accept that. But I will not leave this title in your hands. I will not bow down, I will not let evil triumph, because I know that I can beat you. You know it, I know it. I proved it to the world last month at Metamorphosis. And this month, I prove it once and for all.
I will win, Angel. I will triumph over your hatred, as I have triumphed over every wicked man that has crossed my way in the last year. And no matter the sacrifice, no matter how much it takes from me, I will stand tall, and you will learn, a god learning from a mortal as so many before you have...
I. Am. Unbreakable.
I pinned Angel Blake in the middle of that ring. One-two-three. And Angel decided that he wasn't done with me. He said he had a lesson to teach me and the world. He said that I needed to learn that good doesn't always win, that evil is sometimes necessary. He promised fire and ruin for me, interjected himself in a match he had no business in, and he worked with Dean Harper to topple myself and Bob Pooler last week. From where some people might be sitting, it looks like I've been dealt a bad hand. Maybe he's right, they say. Maybe good can't always win. But...I've got just a few problems with that, Angel.
The first problem is that I know that evil wins sometimes. I've known that for a long, long time. I've had it thrown in my face for years, ground into me by person after person: evil wins. Good loses. Why try to fight it? Join the winning side. Understand that villains triumph, because the world is harsh and uncaring. That's the message that everyone from Rob Diamond to Steve Awesome to Jake Conway tried to teach me: nice guys finish last, bastards succeed and get ahead.
I guess I'm just a bad student.
I've fallen victim to those words before. I've been weak. I've tried to walk the darker paths that you've preached. They. Never. Work. They're a betrayal of who I am, and someone else's lie is weaker than your own truth. It took me years to learn that lesson, the real lesson of my career. What works for Rob Diamond or Jake Conway or Angel Blake won't work for Andrew Jacobsen. I have to live my own life, the way I want to...and now that I've got the confidence to do so?
Look at what I've become.
Longest reign in company history. Most title defenses in history. Since winning the Roulette, I have found myself in a way that I never had before, and now more than ever, I need to hold to that truth. I cannot abandon myself now, I cannot abandon the people that have given me the strength to find myself now, of all times. This crisis of faith that you have imposed on me will pass, Angel, and it will pass with the words that you fear most of all ringing in your ears...
"Here is your winner, and STILL IWF Imperial Champion...Andrew. Jacobsen."
Andrew sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the bedside stand, nodding at the early hour, and stood up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. As he did, though, the light clicked on. Andrew blinked, covering his eyes and wincing as the light assaulted him. Silhouetted in the hotel doorway stands Danielle Chase, hands on her hips. Andrew reached over, flicking the light on near the bed. As Danielle's face is lit up, her expression is anything but pleased. "Andrew."
"Danielle." Andrew groaned, clutching the back of his neck. "What's going on? Why are you up?" He staggered around the side of the bed, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.
"I could ask you the same thing, Andrew." Danielle's hand went up, shaking an orange prescription bottle. "This is a new prescription, Andrew. You said you were done. What's the deal?"
Andrew sighed, shaking his head, and put up a hand as he walked towards Danielle. "It's...it's just to get me through the Mexico tour. Once we get back to the States, those go in the medicine cabinet and they don't come out. I promise." Andrew looked at Danielle with a plaintive expression on his face. "I just need to take a shower, work some of the tension out."
"Sure you do." Danielle deadpanned. "You're just going to knock back a handful of these babies and take another late-night ride, right?" Andrew's eyes widened, and Danielle smirked humorlessly. "Yeah, don't think I haven't figured out what you've been doing. You go out late, the car's gone, and you sometimes forget to take the bottle with you."
Andrew took a deep breath, sighing. "...yeah, I'm hurting. A lot." He looked up, eyes steely. "And I'm trying to take care of myself. I need to beat Angel, Dani. I can't let him win. I can't let him spread his message with the platform that winning the Imperial Title gives him."
Danielle sighed, shaking her head. "Andrew, I want you to slow down. I want you to spend your free time in rehab, and I want you..." she rattled the bottle in her hand again. "...to stop popping these. You need to learn how to manage your pain without this level of medication. It'll take you off your game." She shook her head again, tossing the bottle into the corner of the room and walking up to Andrew. Danielle reached up to caress Andrew's face, sighing. "You're better than this, baby. I know you are. Please, don't do this to yourself."
Andrew reached back up, cupping Danielle's hand with his own. "I'm going to try." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's hard. It's so hard. Every time it aches, every time I land and I feel that jolt run through my neck, I think of Dad. I ask myself 'what if this is it? What if this is the last time I land and can get back up?' It's..." he exhaled slowly, choking up a little. Danielle patted him on the cheek, nodding, and Andrew took a breath in before continuing. "I can't stop worrying about it...I can't stop worrying that the moment I lose the title, it all goes away."
Danielle nodded, biting her lower lip for a second before she spoke again. "Yeah. I get that. You hit a hot streak, and you don't want to get off the ride. But...they'll always love you, Andy. You've given so many people so much inspiration, you keep fighting for what's good and what's right...do it the right way." She smiled softly. "And if nothing else, at the end of the day I still love you. And I will keep loving you no matter what. Imperial Champion or not, wrestler or not, as long as you're still Andrew Jacobsen that'll never change."
Andrew nodded slowly again, pulling Danielle into a tender kiss. The two held each other for what could have been hours, neither wanting to let the other go. Finally, slowly, reluctantly, Andrew pulled away, meeting Danielle's gaze again. She smiled at him, an awkward smile more at home on a teenager than a woman of Danielle's professional capacity. Andrew's return grin was equally nerve-wracked, and he let out a nervous chuckle. Danielle smiled again, looking back to the door. "Alright. Tell you what. I'm going to use the bathroom, then you take that shower...and leave the door unlocked? I might have to..." she paused, grinning again. "Come back in for something?" Danielle winked at Andrew, taking a few steps back.
"Yes ma'am." Andrew grinned, and Danielle returned the grin, turning and walking into the bathroom. The door swung shut, and Andrew watched for a few long seconds before turning and quickly walking over into the corner of the room. Andrew knelt down, hands closing around something on the floor, and as he stood back up, he sighed, looking at the pill bottle. He looked around the room, a guilty expression flashing across his face, and slipped the bottle into his pocket, walking back over to the bed and sitting down again. Andrew watched the bathroom door, shoulders slumped and a guilty expression on his face as we fade to black.
There's one more flaw with your argument, Angel. I still have breath in my lungs, I still have life in my body. I can still fight, and as long as I can still fight, I get to shape my own story. If you want to defeat me, Angel, you'll need to take all of that from me. You'll need to sap me of all of my breath, drain every ounce of energy and every drop of blood from my body if you want to put me down. Angel, if you want to beat me, you're going to have to kill me...
Because that's the only way I'll stay down.
I've defied every obstacle in front of me thus far. I've beaten a man who many thought was unassailable, I've conquered the demons of my past, and I've put away the man who thought he was the future. Now, I stand in front of a man who thinks himself the Creator and the Destroyer, the Alpha and the Omega, He Who Is Called I Am. You're not God, Angel. I refuse to believe the world is run by you. The universe is not so badly designed.
You've slain heroes before. You broke Mason St. Croix and buried him alive. The thing that walked out of that grave wasn't Mason St. Croix, it was a shell wearing his face. You want to make an example of me the same way you made an example of him, striking down the wayward son and the defiant child who would stand against the Creator. I refuse to bend my knee to you. I refuse to let your gospel ring out and reign supreme, because you are not God. You are not my ruler. No matter the lies you tell yourself, the way your brain's warped, I reject them. But I can't shake your delusions. That's fine...
You can call yourself God, and I will show the world that a god can bleed.
This match is called an Angel of Death Match. It's a brutal combination of some of the most vicious match types in IWF. I know I will leave a part of myself in Mexico, and I accept that. But I will not leave this title in your hands. I will not bow down, I will not let evil triumph, because I know that I can beat you. You know it, I know it. I proved it to the world last month at Metamorphosis. And this month, I prove it once and for all.
I will win, Angel. I will triumph over your hatred, as I have triumphed over every wicked man that has crossed my way in the last year. And no matter the sacrifice, no matter how much it takes from me, I will stand tall, and you will learn, a god learning from a mortal as so many before you have...
I. Am. Unbreakable.
Well howdy there pardner.