Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jun 9, 2013 5:35:44 GMT
Xavier Cross…you’ve left me in a very awkward position.
You left me in the position of being in the corner of a man who, for the last three and a half years, has run down me, everything I am, and everything I stand for. I hated Alex Jones’ guts, and it was clear he despised me. He loathed that I had become what I had in the time it took me, and I hated that he would just sit on the sideline, whining about what a despicable and awful human being I supposedly was. But at the end of the day, he earned that World Title shot. He earned that main event, he earned the RIGHT to be in the last match of NCW, and you decided to piss on it all. And why?
Doesn’t seem you know why, because you keep changing your story the moment interest falls cold. First it’s for revenge…over losing completely fair and square five years ago. Then it’s because you wanted to give your new girl her moment. Oh, speaking of that? Good luck, Xavier. I sincerely hope she doesn’t tear you apart the way she’s done so many others. And I hope it was worth it. I hope it was worth every moment.
The sad part is, despite all that I want to respect you, Cross. You profess to turning over a new leaf, and your charity work’s admirable. But there’s always that lingering doubt, that question I can’t shake. How much of this is sincere? How much of what you say and do is really because of you turning over some new leaf? It just…eats at me. I want to take everything you’re saying and doing at face value, because I do believe people can change. I just…this business has forced me to second-guess everything, sometimes to my own detriment. Prove me wrong, Xavier. Prove you’re better than that.
As for you, Mike…I owe you a receipt. For all the times you ran your mouth, for all the times I couldn’t back up what I said, I owe you an ass-kicking. And more than ever, now that we’ve got the IWF Heavyweight Championship up for grabs in just one week, just one week from Sunday, six days after we’re going to tear into each other in the middle of that very ring, I need to beat you down. Anything I can do to get that momentum heading into Bloody Assizes…and that includes dropping you flat on the mat, locking you in the Sharpshooter, and hauling back until you tap out.
This match is our chance to redeem ourselves. We’ve had some rough showings the last few weeks. Talked a big game, but we never brought it home like we have to. I know you’re one of the best. I know I’m even better. And I know that the performances we’ve put on over the last few weeks? They’re nothing near our best. Bring it, Mike. Bring your best. I’ll bring mine. And I’ll show you exactly what the difference is between us. You’re good…I’m better.
And then there’s my partner. Because unlike you, Mike, I understand the importance of a partner in a tag team match. Matter of fact, my old partner was spearing you out of your boots last week. You can’t win a tag team match on your own. Luckily for me, I’ve got a more reliable partner than John Rherring. I have a friend on my side. More than that, I have a supremely underrated competitor backing me up. Seth Evans is one of the best wrestlers ever to step between these ropes. He can take the greatest this industry’s ever seen to the limit. And I wouldn’t pick anyone else to be in my corner here if I could. Mike, you and Xavier are just two wrestlers thrown together. Me and Seth? We’re a team.
Seth…make no mistake, come pay-per-view time, it’s every man for himself. You’re just as big a threat as Cross, Laszlo, or Conway is. But for now, we have to be united. I know you want this win just as much as I do. We need to work together. It’s not just about the show. It’s not just about the performance. It’s about being able to stand in the middle of that ring and have your hand raised. At the end of the day, this is a competition. And why would you compete if you don’t want to win?
We open on Andrew Jacobsen sitting in what appears to be a hotel room, rubbing his eyes as he looks at the screen of a laptop, upon which is playing the footage of his triple threat match from Sacrifice. Next to him, Danielle Chase watches critically, shaking her head as Jake Keeton spears Andrew and covers him for the three count. She stops the video and looks over to Andrew, arching her eyebrow as he sighs and looks down.
”What was that? Where did all this prima donna attention-whore showboating come from? Did you get knocked out in the back and replaced with your evil twin or something? You screwed around out there and acted like a whiny child, and you lost. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Andrew looks down for a few moments, unable to rebut anything she said. After a few moments, he speaks from between his fingers, still looking down.
”If it were my evil twin, he’d have a goatee.”
Danielle opens her mouth to protest, but just stares at Andrew with a combination of confusion and irritation written across her face. Andrew looks up at her, speaking contritely.
”I don’t know. I got caught up in the moment, I guess. I was still riding the wave off of that interview and…I don’t know. I’ve got nothing, Danielle. I’m…I’m just going to take my matches more seriously. I know it sounds lame, but…”
Chase cuts Andrew off, irritation seething in every syllable.
”No buts, Andy. You screwed up. I want you to look at what you did wrong—and there’s a whole lot you did wrong—and figure out how you’re going to improve. You’ve got a title match in a week, and you haven’t won a match yet. If you want a snowball’s chance in hell of walking out with that Heavyweight Title, you need to work for it. Matter of fact, when we’re done here, you give Seth a call, see where he is. Maybe you two can get a training session in before Sacrifice.”
Andrew nods, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t expecting the kind of chewing out he was receiving, but all he can do at the moment is roll with things.
”I don’t know what it is with you, but you seem like you’re taking a lot more interest in my career recently. Like…you really want to be involved 24/7 instead of just answering when I call. Why’s that, can I ask?”
She looks at Andrew over her glasses, cocking an eyebrow as she shifts her seating to face him more fully.
”Let me tell you why that is, Andrew. You’re my client. As my client, I get a small percentage of whatever contracts and deals I negotiate for you. The more successful you are, the more money I make. That’s just how it goes.”
The cold-blooded bluntness of Danielle’s answer seems to hit Andrew in the face. He blinks, shaking his head, and sighs, sobering realization dawning upon his face.
”Right. I’m sorry. I…I guess I’m used to anyone who my actions would affect not really staying around me very long. But…it’s not like I don’t care. I just…I’ve been hearing the same voices telling me that I’m wrong for being me for so long, and I thought IWF might be a clean slate…and there they are, right as if nothing had changed. ”
Danielle’s glare softens, and she reaches over, taking Andrew’s hand and smiling at him. She speaks calmly and reassuringly, looking into his eyes.
”That's the thing...if you've ever tried to clean a slate, you know that what was written on them doesn't completely go away. Andrew, you can’t act like the last four years of your life didn’t happen. What you can do is not dwell on them. You’re right, this is a new start. But by that same token, you have to remember that you’re not the same person you were when you walked into NCW. You’re older. I would hope you’re wiser. And frankly, you’re a miserable wreck when you lose. If you get back to your winning ways, it’ll be easier on both of us.”
Andrew chuckles, shaking his head. He pulls out his phone, flipping through the contact list.
”That it will…I’m going to call up Seth. Maybe I can tear him away from his vital 54th round of Halo to get a few points ironed out before our match…”
Danielle nods, grinning confidently.
”That’s more like it. And no showboating this time, you hear me?”
Andrew grins, mockingly saluting Chase as he dials the phone.
”Yes ma’am.”
He puts the phone to his ear and taps his foot impatiently, Danielle stealthily repurposing the laptop as we fade out.
You left me in the position of being in the corner of a man who, for the last three and a half years, has run down me, everything I am, and everything I stand for. I hated Alex Jones’ guts, and it was clear he despised me. He loathed that I had become what I had in the time it took me, and I hated that he would just sit on the sideline, whining about what a despicable and awful human being I supposedly was. But at the end of the day, he earned that World Title shot. He earned that main event, he earned the RIGHT to be in the last match of NCW, and you decided to piss on it all. And why?
Doesn’t seem you know why, because you keep changing your story the moment interest falls cold. First it’s for revenge…over losing completely fair and square five years ago. Then it’s because you wanted to give your new girl her moment. Oh, speaking of that? Good luck, Xavier. I sincerely hope she doesn’t tear you apart the way she’s done so many others. And I hope it was worth it. I hope it was worth every moment.
The sad part is, despite all that I want to respect you, Cross. You profess to turning over a new leaf, and your charity work’s admirable. But there’s always that lingering doubt, that question I can’t shake. How much of this is sincere? How much of what you say and do is really because of you turning over some new leaf? It just…eats at me. I want to take everything you’re saying and doing at face value, because I do believe people can change. I just…this business has forced me to second-guess everything, sometimes to my own detriment. Prove me wrong, Xavier. Prove you’re better than that.
As for you, Mike…I owe you a receipt. For all the times you ran your mouth, for all the times I couldn’t back up what I said, I owe you an ass-kicking. And more than ever, now that we’ve got the IWF Heavyweight Championship up for grabs in just one week, just one week from Sunday, six days after we’re going to tear into each other in the middle of that very ring, I need to beat you down. Anything I can do to get that momentum heading into Bloody Assizes…and that includes dropping you flat on the mat, locking you in the Sharpshooter, and hauling back until you tap out.
This match is our chance to redeem ourselves. We’ve had some rough showings the last few weeks. Talked a big game, but we never brought it home like we have to. I know you’re one of the best. I know I’m even better. And I know that the performances we’ve put on over the last few weeks? They’re nothing near our best. Bring it, Mike. Bring your best. I’ll bring mine. And I’ll show you exactly what the difference is between us. You’re good…I’m better.
And then there’s my partner. Because unlike you, Mike, I understand the importance of a partner in a tag team match. Matter of fact, my old partner was spearing you out of your boots last week. You can’t win a tag team match on your own. Luckily for me, I’ve got a more reliable partner than John Rherring. I have a friend on my side. More than that, I have a supremely underrated competitor backing me up. Seth Evans is one of the best wrestlers ever to step between these ropes. He can take the greatest this industry’s ever seen to the limit. And I wouldn’t pick anyone else to be in my corner here if I could. Mike, you and Xavier are just two wrestlers thrown together. Me and Seth? We’re a team.
Seth…make no mistake, come pay-per-view time, it’s every man for himself. You’re just as big a threat as Cross, Laszlo, or Conway is. But for now, we have to be united. I know you want this win just as much as I do. We need to work together. It’s not just about the show. It’s not just about the performance. It’s about being able to stand in the middle of that ring and have your hand raised. At the end of the day, this is a competition. And why would you compete if you don’t want to win?
We open on Andrew Jacobsen sitting in what appears to be a hotel room, rubbing his eyes as he looks at the screen of a laptop, upon which is playing the footage of his triple threat match from Sacrifice. Next to him, Danielle Chase watches critically, shaking her head as Jake Keeton spears Andrew and covers him for the three count. She stops the video and looks over to Andrew, arching her eyebrow as he sighs and looks down.
”What was that? Where did all this prima donna attention-whore showboating come from? Did you get knocked out in the back and replaced with your evil twin or something? You screwed around out there and acted like a whiny child, and you lost. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Andrew looks down for a few moments, unable to rebut anything she said. After a few moments, he speaks from between his fingers, still looking down.
”If it were my evil twin, he’d have a goatee.”
Danielle opens her mouth to protest, but just stares at Andrew with a combination of confusion and irritation written across her face. Andrew looks up at her, speaking contritely.
”I don’t know. I got caught up in the moment, I guess. I was still riding the wave off of that interview and…I don’t know. I’ve got nothing, Danielle. I’m…I’m just going to take my matches more seriously. I know it sounds lame, but…”
Chase cuts Andrew off, irritation seething in every syllable.
”No buts, Andy. You screwed up. I want you to look at what you did wrong—and there’s a whole lot you did wrong—and figure out how you’re going to improve. You’ve got a title match in a week, and you haven’t won a match yet. If you want a snowball’s chance in hell of walking out with that Heavyweight Title, you need to work for it. Matter of fact, when we’re done here, you give Seth a call, see where he is. Maybe you two can get a training session in before Sacrifice.”
Andrew nods, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t expecting the kind of chewing out he was receiving, but all he can do at the moment is roll with things.
”I don’t know what it is with you, but you seem like you’re taking a lot more interest in my career recently. Like…you really want to be involved 24/7 instead of just answering when I call. Why’s that, can I ask?”
She looks at Andrew over her glasses, cocking an eyebrow as she shifts her seating to face him more fully.
”Let me tell you why that is, Andrew. You’re my client. As my client, I get a small percentage of whatever contracts and deals I negotiate for you. The more successful you are, the more money I make. That’s just how it goes.”
The cold-blooded bluntness of Danielle’s answer seems to hit Andrew in the face. He blinks, shaking his head, and sighs, sobering realization dawning upon his face.
”Right. I’m sorry. I…I guess I’m used to anyone who my actions would affect not really staying around me very long. But…it’s not like I don’t care. I just…I’ve been hearing the same voices telling me that I’m wrong for being me for so long, and I thought IWF might be a clean slate…and there they are, right as if nothing had changed. ”
Danielle’s glare softens, and she reaches over, taking Andrew’s hand and smiling at him. She speaks calmly and reassuringly, looking into his eyes.
”That's the thing...if you've ever tried to clean a slate, you know that what was written on them doesn't completely go away. Andrew, you can’t act like the last four years of your life didn’t happen. What you can do is not dwell on them. You’re right, this is a new start. But by that same token, you have to remember that you’re not the same person you were when you walked into NCW. You’re older. I would hope you’re wiser. And frankly, you’re a miserable wreck when you lose. If you get back to your winning ways, it’ll be easier on both of us.”
Andrew chuckles, shaking his head. He pulls out his phone, flipping through the contact list.
”That it will…I’m going to call up Seth. Maybe I can tear him away from his vital 54th round of Halo to get a few points ironed out before our match…”
Danielle nods, grinning confidently.
”That’s more like it. And no showboating this time, you hear me?”
Andrew grins, mockingly saluting Chase as he dials the phone.
”Yes ma’am.”
He puts the phone to his ear and taps his foot impatiently, Danielle stealthily repurposing the laptop as we fade out.
Well howdy there pardner.