Post by The Ace on Aug 28, 2015 17:53:37 GMT
Jake Conway is sat in his room at Hotel & Villas Panamà in Mexico City. He is the middle of a Skype call with his eldest daughter, Solitaire. If there was one thing being on this international tour with IWF had confirmed for him, it was the fact that he would always miss being at home with his girls infinitely more than he ever missed being on the road for most of the year.
Roberto Verona had allowed him to simplify his travel schedule significantly since he first joined the company two years ago by letting him work a limited 'Legends' Contract and by letting him fly directly from his family home in Las Vegas, Nevada to wherever he needed him to be in the US.
The problem was that being on an international tour outside of America meant that he had been forced to travel and be away from home for months for the first time in a while. His responsibilities as the Man Of Steel Champion were in direct conflict with his responsibilities as a father, and he was juggling it all as best he could.
If there was a silver lining to being in Mexico for this leg of the tour, it was that he was still relatively close to home and that the time difference was only two hours making calling home a lot easier now than it would be next month when they began their tour of Japan.
Jake: So how was school?
Solitaire shrugged.
Solitaire: The usual, I guess.
Jake could read his daughter's face, his instinct told him something was bothering the usually happy eight year old.
Jake: Is Auntie Lou looking after you and Min?
Solitaire nods.
Jake: Okay, what's wrong sweetie?
Solitaire: Nothing, daddy...
Jake is unconvinced. He knew his baby girl better than that.
Jake: Are you sure? You're not talking very much...
Solitaire shrugs.
Solitaire: I don't know what to say. You said you wouldn't do this any more...
Now she had his attention, he raised an eyebrow.
Jake: Do what, pumpkin?
Solitaire: Fight Uncle Andy...did you lie to me, daddy?
Jake is taken aback by his daughter's question. He had always known that Andrew Jacobsen was one of her all time favourite wrestlers, he was okay with that, but what he was not okay with, what he could not handle was the thought that his daughter would ever think of him as a liar.
Jake shakes his head.
Jake: No...no, absolutely not. I would never lie to you sweetie, not on purpose. It isn't up to me who Bertie makes me fight. I'm a Champion, I have to defend my belt against somebody...
Solitaire: I know daddy, but why Andy? You two shouldn't be fighting, you guys are supposed to be friends...
Jake: That's what I thought too, sweetie, that's what I thought too...
Jake sighs and shakes his head, torn apart by all the questions written on Solitaire's face. Questions he couldn't answer for her, or himself.
Damn you Andrew, he thought, damn you for making me do this again...
The Ace is stood under the Legacy 2015 banner in front of the camera in a slim fit white shirt and black trousers. The top three buttons are undone, and the Man Of Steel Championship rests on his right shoulder.
Congratulations, Andrew.
What? This is what you wanted, isn't it?
Some recognition, a pat on the back, somebody to stand up and take notice of everything you've been doing for years in this business. It's taken longer than I thought it would, but finally the bright incorruptible North Star's light has been dimmed and now he's just as dull and uninspired as the every other piece of trash that has ever littered this company.
Well done, you ungrateful little shit, you've sold the only thing that made you different from all of your competition in this industry completely down the river, and for what?
Alex Jones?
Alex fucking Jones?
Are you serious, kid? I mean, if you wanted to throw away everything you are and have ever been to your fans that badly, the least you could have done is made sure it was for somebody worth a damn first. Callie? Maybe. Emma? Perhaps. Danielle? Sure, I could see it...but Alex?
The Ace shakes his head and sighs.
I just don't get it Andrew, and deep down I don't think you do either. By all means explain it to me, I'll be really impressed if you can make any of this make any kind of sense, because right now I honestly don't get it, I really don't. As far as I'm concerned all you've done in trying to escape the stigma of being considered a worthless joke by your peers is turn yourself into an even bigger one by throwing your lot in with the Joneses.
It would almost be funny if it wasn't all so God damned pathetic.
And the biggest irony about all of this is that even as their apparently trusted new ally, you'll never be able to keep up with them. They know that, hell, why else do you think Alex picked you to fight for his cause? It isn't because he respects you, it isn't because he believes you're worth anything to this business and it damn sure isn't because he considers you an equal in any sense of the word.
No, he picked you because he doesn't consider you a threat to his authority. As far as Alex Jones is concerned, he is better than you and that makes him your leader by default. You, Aaron and Kyle, you're all nothing but glorified lackies at best and disposable bodies at worst.
I fight for Roberto because he respects me as a competitor and a man, you fight for Alex because nobody with an iota of common sense will.
It wasn't that long ago Andrew that you were the undisputed moral centre of this business. It wasn't that long ago Andrew that you were the one guy in the back we could all count on to keep us on the straight and narrow in an industry where forsaking your integrity and character is the easy thing to do, the normal thing to do.
I don't mind admitting that you've saved my ass more times than I can count just by being the one person who I could rely on to keep me in check. Whether it was something as simple as watching my drinking whilst we were out on the road together so I didn't come back to the hotel at 4 am completely rat-faced or it was just reminding me of just how much I stood to lose if I ever fell back in with the rest of the boys and entertained a couple of willing ring rats who didn't care that I was happily married and actually found it kind of a turn on.
The point is Andrew, you were my moral compass when mine was skewed by desire or inebriation. No matter how hard the situation was, somehow you always knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do, to put it all into perspective for me. No matter how far I tried to drift from the shore, The North Star always brought The Ace back.
No matter what, Andrew Jacobsen always brought Jake Conway home again.
To Kathy, to Min, to Soli...
Yeah, Soli...you remember her, don't you? The beautiful little girl who has been a fan of yours forever.
Tell me Andrew, what did she ever do to you to earn your betrayal?
I wouldn't care if this was just about sticking a knife in my chest out of some misplaced sense of jealousy, but I'll be damned before I let you ever stab my baby in the back without any rhyme or reason. She idolises you, she always has and she has no idea why we're fighting - and I've got to be honest here, Andrew, neither do I.
After everything I have done for you and everything my wife has done for Emma, the least you could do is show a little gratitude to us after we went out of our way to make sure this company resigned you not so long ago. Hell, I even convinced Roberto that you deserved my Roulette spot more than I did, and even when you blew that, he gave you another shot at redemption in the Heir To The Throne tournament...and now this is the man you want revenge against?
Really?
Okay. Let's suppose for a moment that you really are as petty as you seem right now, you know what would have been an even more effective way to stick it to Roberto Verona than selling yourself to a cause as impetuous as Body Count?
Winning the Roulette and then winning the Imperial Championship.
Winning the Heir To The Throne and then winning the Imperial Championship.
In short, making the most of one, just one, of the chances he gave you to prove that not only were you one of the best pure wrestlers in this company, but also the most important morally pure Champion this company deserves.
This company doesn't need another group of misguided anarchists at its core, we've had enough of that with men like Lex Sense, Spike Kane and Angel Blake at the top. No, what this company desperately needs is an Imperial Champion with an unshakeable set of core principles, somebody who can inspire and somebody who can be a wholesome role model to the generations that will follow us.
In short Andrew, the Imperial Wrestling Federation needs somebody just like the man you used to be, not so long ago.
You could have been that Champion Andy, you could have had it all, the right to call yourself the best AND retribution for what Roberto put you through in NCW, if only you had a little more patience, a little more faith and the ability to see the bigger picture for yourself instead of being seduced by the whispers of a Black Dragon who has convinced you that the only reason you haven't achieved anything in this company is because of the man who runs it.
Short of handing you the Imperial Championship, the best Roberto can do for you is the same he's done for all of us. He's opened the doors for you to come and live your dreams Andrew, it's up to you to walk through and capture them without tripping over your own piddly ass.
Don't blame him if you can only make it so far, and no further, Andrew.
The man you march so defiantly in the shadow of now will go out of his way to keep you there sunshine, especially if he ever achieves his goal of once again regaining the Imperial Championship. Have you ever considered that Andrew? Have you ever thought about what happens to all the bodies that lay themselves before the Joneses just for them to climb their way back to the top?
They're buried.
They're forgotten.
They become the very footnote that you're fighting against becoming.
Is that all you are?
Is that really going to be the legacy that Andrew Jacobsen leaves behind?
A disgruntled mess who lost his way and threw away all of his potential for a man as selfish as Alex Jones?
Tell me now Andrew, my daughter deserves to know exactly why daddy says she shouldn't cheer for you any more. I don't care about what else you say about me or this match or how winning my Man Of Steel Championship isn't personal and just a message to Roberto Verona, I only care about what you say to my daughter.
Go ahead, tell her why her faith in you has never been rewarded.
Tell her why she's no longer worthy of your time or respect.
Tell her why you don't care about how much she loves you.
And after you're done explaining yourself Andrew, after you're done pissing away your legacy and after you're done breaking her little heart, I will step into that cage and forge a new chapter in my own legend by being the shield that left Andrew Jacobsen every bit as broken physically as he is morally.
Roberto Verona had allowed him to simplify his travel schedule significantly since he first joined the company two years ago by letting him work a limited 'Legends' Contract and by letting him fly directly from his family home in Las Vegas, Nevada to wherever he needed him to be in the US.
The problem was that being on an international tour outside of America meant that he had been forced to travel and be away from home for months for the first time in a while. His responsibilities as the Man Of Steel Champion were in direct conflict with his responsibilities as a father, and he was juggling it all as best he could.
If there was a silver lining to being in Mexico for this leg of the tour, it was that he was still relatively close to home and that the time difference was only two hours making calling home a lot easier now than it would be next month when they began their tour of Japan.
Jake: So how was school?
Solitaire shrugged.
Solitaire: The usual, I guess.
Jake could read his daughter's face, his instinct told him something was bothering the usually happy eight year old.
Jake: Is Auntie Lou looking after you and Min?
Solitaire nods.
Jake: Okay, what's wrong sweetie?
Solitaire: Nothing, daddy...
Jake is unconvinced. He knew his baby girl better than that.
Jake: Are you sure? You're not talking very much...
Solitaire shrugs.
Solitaire: I don't know what to say. You said you wouldn't do this any more...
Now she had his attention, he raised an eyebrow.
Jake: Do what, pumpkin?
Solitaire: Fight Uncle Andy...did you lie to me, daddy?
Jake is taken aback by his daughter's question. He had always known that Andrew Jacobsen was one of her all time favourite wrestlers, he was okay with that, but what he was not okay with, what he could not handle was the thought that his daughter would ever think of him as a liar.
Jake shakes his head.
Jake: No...no, absolutely not. I would never lie to you sweetie, not on purpose. It isn't up to me who Bertie makes me fight. I'm a Champion, I have to defend my belt against somebody...
Solitaire: I know daddy, but why Andy? You two shouldn't be fighting, you guys are supposed to be friends...
Jake: That's what I thought too, sweetie, that's what I thought too...
Jake sighs and shakes his head, torn apart by all the questions written on Solitaire's face. Questions he couldn't answer for her, or himself.
Damn you Andrew, he thought, damn you for making me do this again...
The Ace is stood under the Legacy 2015 banner in front of the camera in a slim fit white shirt and black trousers. The top three buttons are undone, and the Man Of Steel Championship rests on his right shoulder.
Congratulations, Andrew.
What? This is what you wanted, isn't it?
Some recognition, a pat on the back, somebody to stand up and take notice of everything you've been doing for years in this business. It's taken longer than I thought it would, but finally the bright incorruptible North Star's light has been dimmed and now he's just as dull and uninspired as the every other piece of trash that has ever littered this company.
Well done, you ungrateful little shit, you've sold the only thing that made you different from all of your competition in this industry completely down the river, and for what?
Alex Jones?
Alex fucking Jones?
Are you serious, kid? I mean, if you wanted to throw away everything you are and have ever been to your fans that badly, the least you could have done is made sure it was for somebody worth a damn first. Callie? Maybe. Emma? Perhaps. Danielle? Sure, I could see it...but Alex?
The Ace shakes his head and sighs.
I just don't get it Andrew, and deep down I don't think you do either. By all means explain it to me, I'll be really impressed if you can make any of this make any kind of sense, because right now I honestly don't get it, I really don't. As far as I'm concerned all you've done in trying to escape the stigma of being considered a worthless joke by your peers is turn yourself into an even bigger one by throwing your lot in with the Joneses.
It would almost be funny if it wasn't all so God damned pathetic.
And the biggest irony about all of this is that even as their apparently trusted new ally, you'll never be able to keep up with them. They know that, hell, why else do you think Alex picked you to fight for his cause? It isn't because he respects you, it isn't because he believes you're worth anything to this business and it damn sure isn't because he considers you an equal in any sense of the word.
No, he picked you because he doesn't consider you a threat to his authority. As far as Alex Jones is concerned, he is better than you and that makes him your leader by default. You, Aaron and Kyle, you're all nothing but glorified lackies at best and disposable bodies at worst.
I fight for Roberto because he respects me as a competitor and a man, you fight for Alex because nobody with an iota of common sense will.
It wasn't that long ago Andrew that you were the undisputed moral centre of this business. It wasn't that long ago Andrew that you were the one guy in the back we could all count on to keep us on the straight and narrow in an industry where forsaking your integrity and character is the easy thing to do, the normal thing to do.
I don't mind admitting that you've saved my ass more times than I can count just by being the one person who I could rely on to keep me in check. Whether it was something as simple as watching my drinking whilst we were out on the road together so I didn't come back to the hotel at 4 am completely rat-faced or it was just reminding me of just how much I stood to lose if I ever fell back in with the rest of the boys and entertained a couple of willing ring rats who didn't care that I was happily married and actually found it kind of a turn on.
The point is Andrew, you were my moral compass when mine was skewed by desire or inebriation. No matter how hard the situation was, somehow you always knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do, to put it all into perspective for me. No matter how far I tried to drift from the shore, The North Star always brought The Ace back.
No matter what, Andrew Jacobsen always brought Jake Conway home again.
To Kathy, to Min, to Soli...
Yeah, Soli...you remember her, don't you? The beautiful little girl who has been a fan of yours forever.
Tell me Andrew, what did she ever do to you to earn your betrayal?
I wouldn't care if this was just about sticking a knife in my chest out of some misplaced sense of jealousy, but I'll be damned before I let you ever stab my baby in the back without any rhyme or reason. She idolises you, she always has and she has no idea why we're fighting - and I've got to be honest here, Andrew, neither do I.
After everything I have done for you and everything my wife has done for Emma, the least you could do is show a little gratitude to us after we went out of our way to make sure this company resigned you not so long ago. Hell, I even convinced Roberto that you deserved my Roulette spot more than I did, and even when you blew that, he gave you another shot at redemption in the Heir To The Throne tournament...and now this is the man you want revenge against?
Really?
Okay. Let's suppose for a moment that you really are as petty as you seem right now, you know what would have been an even more effective way to stick it to Roberto Verona than selling yourself to a cause as impetuous as Body Count?
Winning the Roulette and then winning the Imperial Championship.
Winning the Heir To The Throne and then winning the Imperial Championship.
In short, making the most of one, just one, of the chances he gave you to prove that not only were you one of the best pure wrestlers in this company, but also the most important morally pure Champion this company deserves.
This company doesn't need another group of misguided anarchists at its core, we've had enough of that with men like Lex Sense, Spike Kane and Angel Blake at the top. No, what this company desperately needs is an Imperial Champion with an unshakeable set of core principles, somebody who can inspire and somebody who can be a wholesome role model to the generations that will follow us.
In short Andrew, the Imperial Wrestling Federation needs somebody just like the man you used to be, not so long ago.
You could have been that Champion Andy, you could have had it all, the right to call yourself the best AND retribution for what Roberto put you through in NCW, if only you had a little more patience, a little more faith and the ability to see the bigger picture for yourself instead of being seduced by the whispers of a Black Dragon who has convinced you that the only reason you haven't achieved anything in this company is because of the man who runs it.
Short of handing you the Imperial Championship, the best Roberto can do for you is the same he's done for all of us. He's opened the doors for you to come and live your dreams Andrew, it's up to you to walk through and capture them without tripping over your own piddly ass.
Don't blame him if you can only make it so far, and no further, Andrew.
The man you march so defiantly in the shadow of now will go out of his way to keep you there sunshine, especially if he ever achieves his goal of once again regaining the Imperial Championship. Have you ever considered that Andrew? Have you ever thought about what happens to all the bodies that lay themselves before the Joneses just for them to climb their way back to the top?
They're buried.
They're forgotten.
They become the very footnote that you're fighting against becoming.
Is that all you are?
Is that really going to be the legacy that Andrew Jacobsen leaves behind?
A disgruntled mess who lost his way and threw away all of his potential for a man as selfish as Alex Jones?
Tell me now Andrew, my daughter deserves to know exactly why daddy says she shouldn't cheer for you any more. I don't care about what else you say about me or this match or how winning my Man Of Steel Championship isn't personal and just a message to Roberto Verona, I only care about what you say to my daughter.
Go ahead, tell her why her faith in you has never been rewarded.
Tell her why she's no longer worthy of your time or respect.
Tell her why you don't care about how much she loves you.
And after you're done explaining yourself Andrew, after you're done pissing away your legacy and after you're done breaking her little heart, I will step into that cage and forge a new chapter in my own legend by being the shield that left Andrew Jacobsen every bit as broken physically as he is morally.
Well howdy there pardner.