Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Dec 1, 2015 4:03:35 GMT
Five titles. Five champions. Five opportunities to see history made in one match. You don’t get these kinds of nights every week. There’s a reason Survival of the Fittest should be marked on every wrestling fan’s calendar…and it’s this match. Every champion in this match could be on the outside looking in by the end of the night.
This is the opportunity of a lifetime. People overuse that phrase, but it’s true. After all, how many nights a year can you say we could have four potential World Champions coming out of one match? There are more potential outcomes here than even the Roulette match can offer. This is a showcase, this is a centerpiece, and this…this is THE night!
Every challenger in this match has an obligation, a burden from on high that they owe themselves and everyone who’s gone before and who will be after us.
Some people might just call me irrationally optimistic. After all, look at our team. We’re a ragtag bunch of misfits and one supremacist asshole. How could we possibly stand up to the elite and coherent slate of champions we’ve got arrayed against us?
Oh. Right.
The Diamonds…there’s nothing I can do there. Honestly, it’s not my place to comment. I won’t have any influence on the way their part of the match plays out. All I can do is wish Fiona and Esperanza the best of luck. Kayla Richards is full of herself and Alexis Caffrey is…well, going utterly up the wall. What is it with the Diamonds Championship and crazy? Do we need to get Elijah Wood to huck that thing into Mount Doom?
…wait. No. I don’t give up that easy. There’s ALWAYS something you can do.
Esperanza Serranto and Fiona McFly have all the talent that it takes to shock the world. Honestly, and this might not be popular but I’m kind of riding a wave of “do the wrong thing” and damned if I’m gonna stop now, I think Esperanza Serranto is the single most underrated person on the IWF roster. Period. Not Diamond, person. Alexis and Kayla can beat their chests all they want, but if there’s anyone else in this match that knows how valuable this match is it’s Esperanza. Prove my hope right. Shock the world. Make the dream come true.
And Fiona? I don’t like Jack Gaither, but the man’s got talent, and he’s trained Fiona well. You don’t get into this kind of spot just because you look good, and Fiona is one of the most steel-spined and fleet-footed people I’ve ever met. She works hard, she throws herself into everything she does, and neither champion she’s going to be across from can take her lightly. Fiona, don’t let them get you down. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not up to the job. You can do this. I believe in you.
Nighthawk. The Man of 1,000 Holds, and…well, someone who probably doesn’t exactly have much love lost for me. I hurt you. I tried to send a message using your body as my canvas, and I can’t take that back. But look at you. It hasn’t slowed you down an inch. You can’t be put down that easily. And I…I’m glad.
I’m glad that a fit of pique isn’t enough to extinguish the flame of the man who, no matter the pressures, has lived up to what I once did. I’m not the man I was. I never will be again, barring a miracle. But that’s fine. I don’t need to be a role model anymore. You’re better at that than I was, Hawk. You’ve never wavered, you’ve never succumbed to temptation, you’ve never sold your soul for a cheap date and a moment of spotlight.
Never do it. Be stronger. Be the champion I know you are deep down. Show the world what I re-learn every single time we step between those ropes. Bring your best…but I don’t have to tell you to. You always do.
I might not be able to fight their battles for them, but I can remind the world that no matter how much others might want to put them down, they damn sure can.
We open on Andrew sitting at a table in a café, several folders of material in front of him and several empty coffee cups beside him. He looks exhausted at first glance, but as his eyes flick over the pages there’s an alertness that’s been missing for a while in them. His intent gaze wavers, though, when Danielle sits down across from him, professional as always.
“Doing your homework. First time in a long time, I’ll bet.”
Andrew snorts, closing the folder in his hands and setting it aside. “You’re talking like I fell to pieces when you left.”
Danielle replies evenly, folding her hands together. “From where I’m sitting, you did. Erratic alliances, desperately looking for comfort from whoever would take it, injuring other wrestlers to make a point? You wouldn’t have done any of those things when I knew you.”
“It’s been a while. People change, Danielle.” Andrew snaps back testily, temper rising. “Don’t sermonize at me.”
“People change, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.” Danielle matches him word for word, gaze unwavering. “Honestly, Andrew, quit being so defensive. You can make mistakes. They can flame out and in the end gain you nothing. The sooner you admit that to yourself, the sooner you can move on and actually make something of yourself.”
Andrew’s jaw tenses, and he glares daggers at his manager. “What, so the last six years of my career are nothing? Everything I’ve accomplished is nothing?”
Danielle’s response is swift and blunt. “Keep acting like this and it might as well be. Got me?”
Andrew pulls back slightly, shocked. His eyes waver for a brief moment, and Danielle reaches out to him, gently resting her hand on his. Andrew’s eyes flick to the point of contact, and her expression softens, glare fading into a look of worried concern. When she speaks again, the authoritarian edge has bled back out of her voice, replaced by a tone of concern.
“It’s not too late to turn things around, Andrew. It’s never too late. I came back to help because I wanted to open that door.” Danielle can’t help but keep a fond smirk from her face. “Tell the truth, I missed you. Boxing, MMA…they’ve got their appeal, sure, but I kind of loved the rush around pro wrestling.” Her smirk turns into a bit of a shamefaced grin. “You…you brought a thrill into things that nobody else did.”
Danielle pauses, taking a deep breath. “And you…you stood for something. You were always there when people looked to you. Like the North Star, I guess.” She chuckles. “I’m glad you picked that nickname. It always made so much sense. I guess…I guess I want it to again.”
Andrew pauses, taking in her words. After a few long moments, he looks up at Danielle with a grin. He takes her hand, squeezing it briefly. “I won’t tell anyone that the über-agent is actually a grinning thrill junkie. Scout’s honor.”
Danielle groans, reaching over and swatting the side of Andrew’s head. “Break the tension…scout’s honor. Do you have any of that anymore, Boy Scout?” Danielle teases him, seemingly unaware of the razor edge underlying the jibe.
Andrew winces slightly, nodding for a moment before speaking with a more sober tone in his voice. “I sure hope so.” He runs a hand through his hair, coughing and forcing a smile on his face. “So, how about that coffee?”
Danielle grins, nodding as Andrew grabs the empty cups. He walks towards the trash can, grin fading as soon as his back’s turned, and tosses them away as we fade to black on Andrew’s concerned expression.
Every title in this match means something to me.
They’re all important. Every one of them could change my life. And each one of them feels like it’s part of my career, in a weird way.
The Invictus Title. The championship that was founded to be contested by the young up-and-comers. The Invictus Title builds legacies, the Invictus Title sets you blazing towards the main event, and it makes the stars of the future. Warren Kane…Warren Kane SCREAMS “future star.”
His lineage includes some of the most brutal and skilled wrestlers I’ve ever known. He’s dedicated himself to living up to the family name. And he’s dedicated himself to being remembered as more than just “the son of Spike Kane.” Warren, I truly believe you’re going to be the future of IWF if you keep up like this. But I don’t get to worry about your future. I don’t have that luxury.
I have to worry about my present.
I have to be concerned with the fact that I’ve put myself at the bottom of a mine shaft, and I have to haul myself out before the weight of my mistakes crushes me beneath a mountain that I can’t move. I refuse to let the last note in my career be one of short-sighted desperation.
I’m not done yet. And Warren? You’re the opponent that’ll make the world see that.
I’ve never wrestled you, and I wanted to even before the world discovered who your father was .Warren Kidd was just as skilled and athletic a competitor as Warren Kane, and that Invictus Championship symbolizes a new start. Whether it’s men like you, at the start of their career…or men like the first Invictus Champion, an old enemy of mine. Kristoff Liam Bates got one more lease on life with the Invictus Championship. It can do that for me. And I would be proud—PROUD!—to be the Invictus Champion and hold that title high.
One last thing. Warren? Never sell yourself short. You’re a champion, goddammit. Hold your head high, and if someone ever claims that doesn’t matter, make like your father and make them PAY!
Next…I want to make a plea to management. Not on my own behalf. I’ve torched my bridges there, and that’ll be another day. No, my plea is for the sake of one of my opponents.
Someone, for the love of God, help Rob Diamond.
I’m serious. You’d think I would hate him. After all, he beat me for the Man of Steel Championship. He beat Kyle to retain it. He’s been a dead albatross around my neck for years. Wouldn’t I want to see him spiral into a self-destructive, imploding catastrophe? Shouldn’t I be enjoying this all?
No. Because, as I was recently reminded, I’m the better man. I don’t drop to that level. I want what’s best for IWF, and someone like Rob Diamond running around vandalizing property and raising havoc in the way he has? That’s not best for IWF, that’s not best for the bottom line…and it’s not best for Rob Diamond.
I can be angry at him all I like, but he needs to have the burdens taken off of him. He needs time away to recuperate, to get the help that he so desperately needs.
Do I want to beat him into that place of healing? Oh, you bet your ass. Anyone who can get away with wishing that his opponents would commit suicide that many times, anyone who can be that DISGUSTING of a person over and over…he needs to go.
And Roberto, you owe it to yourself and this dream of an IWF that can stand on its own two legs to make sure that lunatic doesn’t walk out with the Man of Steel Championship. Let me do us all a favor. Let me help you for once.
Let me help him.
But…you aren’t inclined to listen to me, Roberto. I’m not surprised. You’ve got no reason to. After all, no matter how many issues I might have with Rob Diamond, I sold my soul under the auspices of getting even with you.
You want me to say I screwed up? I don’t have to. Open your window and listen to the chorus. I finally had to be thrown head-first through that window, and once my head stopped ringing, it was deafening.
End of the day, I want to be Imperial Champion. Shocker, right? But this match is an opportunity that I might not get for a long, long time. Certainly it won’t be easy. I can’t waste this shot. I can’t, I won’t, and…and maybe that’s what you want. You’ve been telling me to be selfish for a long time, Verona. Maybe this is the night.
Maybe I tag in and steal the moment from one of my teammates. If that’s what it takes, then at this point I’ll do it, because being a champion is that important. The title means everything, and the Imperial Championship? That’s the one that means the most of all.
This match is the opportunity that, frankly, some are going to say I don’t deserve. And maybe I don’t in an objective world. That doesn’t matter. I have the chance. I have the opportunity. And I will not let it slip through my fingers.
No more. Not again. This is my night. No matter the wounds I’ve inflicted on myself…
I will survive.
This is the opportunity of a lifetime. People overuse that phrase, but it’s true. After all, how many nights a year can you say we could have four potential World Champions coming out of one match? There are more potential outcomes here than even the Roulette match can offer. This is a showcase, this is a centerpiece, and this…this is THE night!
Every challenger in this match has an obligation, a burden from on high that they owe themselves and everyone who’s gone before and who will be after us.
Some people might just call me irrationally optimistic. After all, look at our team. We’re a ragtag bunch of misfits and one supremacist asshole. How could we possibly stand up to the elite and coherent slate of champions we’ve got arrayed against us?
Oh. Right.
The Diamonds…there’s nothing I can do there. Honestly, it’s not my place to comment. I won’t have any influence on the way their part of the match plays out. All I can do is wish Fiona and Esperanza the best of luck. Kayla Richards is full of herself and Alexis Caffrey is…well, going utterly up the wall. What is it with the Diamonds Championship and crazy? Do we need to get Elijah Wood to huck that thing into Mount Doom?
…wait. No. I don’t give up that easy. There’s ALWAYS something you can do.
Esperanza Serranto and Fiona McFly have all the talent that it takes to shock the world. Honestly, and this might not be popular but I’m kind of riding a wave of “do the wrong thing” and damned if I’m gonna stop now, I think Esperanza Serranto is the single most underrated person on the IWF roster. Period. Not Diamond, person. Alexis and Kayla can beat their chests all they want, but if there’s anyone else in this match that knows how valuable this match is it’s Esperanza. Prove my hope right. Shock the world. Make the dream come true.
And Fiona? I don’t like Jack Gaither, but the man’s got talent, and he’s trained Fiona well. You don’t get into this kind of spot just because you look good, and Fiona is one of the most steel-spined and fleet-footed people I’ve ever met. She works hard, she throws herself into everything she does, and neither champion she’s going to be across from can take her lightly. Fiona, don’t let them get you down. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not up to the job. You can do this. I believe in you.
Nighthawk. The Man of 1,000 Holds, and…well, someone who probably doesn’t exactly have much love lost for me. I hurt you. I tried to send a message using your body as my canvas, and I can’t take that back. But look at you. It hasn’t slowed you down an inch. You can’t be put down that easily. And I…I’m glad.
I’m glad that a fit of pique isn’t enough to extinguish the flame of the man who, no matter the pressures, has lived up to what I once did. I’m not the man I was. I never will be again, barring a miracle. But that’s fine. I don’t need to be a role model anymore. You’re better at that than I was, Hawk. You’ve never wavered, you’ve never succumbed to temptation, you’ve never sold your soul for a cheap date and a moment of spotlight.
Never do it. Be stronger. Be the champion I know you are deep down. Show the world what I re-learn every single time we step between those ropes. Bring your best…but I don’t have to tell you to. You always do.
I might not be able to fight their battles for them, but I can remind the world that no matter how much others might want to put them down, they damn sure can.
We open on Andrew sitting at a table in a café, several folders of material in front of him and several empty coffee cups beside him. He looks exhausted at first glance, but as his eyes flick over the pages there’s an alertness that’s been missing for a while in them. His intent gaze wavers, though, when Danielle sits down across from him, professional as always.
“Doing your homework. First time in a long time, I’ll bet.”
Andrew snorts, closing the folder in his hands and setting it aside. “You’re talking like I fell to pieces when you left.”
Danielle replies evenly, folding her hands together. “From where I’m sitting, you did. Erratic alliances, desperately looking for comfort from whoever would take it, injuring other wrestlers to make a point? You wouldn’t have done any of those things when I knew you.”
“It’s been a while. People change, Danielle.” Andrew snaps back testily, temper rising. “Don’t sermonize at me.”
“People change, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.” Danielle matches him word for word, gaze unwavering. “Honestly, Andrew, quit being so defensive. You can make mistakes. They can flame out and in the end gain you nothing. The sooner you admit that to yourself, the sooner you can move on and actually make something of yourself.”
Andrew’s jaw tenses, and he glares daggers at his manager. “What, so the last six years of my career are nothing? Everything I’ve accomplished is nothing?”
Danielle’s response is swift and blunt. “Keep acting like this and it might as well be. Got me?”
Andrew pulls back slightly, shocked. His eyes waver for a brief moment, and Danielle reaches out to him, gently resting her hand on his. Andrew’s eyes flick to the point of contact, and her expression softens, glare fading into a look of worried concern. When she speaks again, the authoritarian edge has bled back out of her voice, replaced by a tone of concern.
“It’s not too late to turn things around, Andrew. It’s never too late. I came back to help because I wanted to open that door.” Danielle can’t help but keep a fond smirk from her face. “Tell the truth, I missed you. Boxing, MMA…they’ve got their appeal, sure, but I kind of loved the rush around pro wrestling.” Her smirk turns into a bit of a shamefaced grin. “You…you brought a thrill into things that nobody else did.”
Danielle pauses, taking a deep breath. “And you…you stood for something. You were always there when people looked to you. Like the North Star, I guess.” She chuckles. “I’m glad you picked that nickname. It always made so much sense. I guess…I guess I want it to again.”
Andrew pauses, taking in her words. After a few long moments, he looks up at Danielle with a grin. He takes her hand, squeezing it briefly. “I won’t tell anyone that the über-agent is actually a grinning thrill junkie. Scout’s honor.”
Danielle groans, reaching over and swatting the side of Andrew’s head. “Break the tension…scout’s honor. Do you have any of that anymore, Boy Scout?” Danielle teases him, seemingly unaware of the razor edge underlying the jibe.
Andrew winces slightly, nodding for a moment before speaking with a more sober tone in his voice. “I sure hope so.” He runs a hand through his hair, coughing and forcing a smile on his face. “So, how about that coffee?”
Danielle grins, nodding as Andrew grabs the empty cups. He walks towards the trash can, grin fading as soon as his back’s turned, and tosses them away as we fade to black on Andrew’s concerned expression.
Every title in this match means something to me.
They’re all important. Every one of them could change my life. And each one of them feels like it’s part of my career, in a weird way.
The Invictus Title. The championship that was founded to be contested by the young up-and-comers. The Invictus Title builds legacies, the Invictus Title sets you blazing towards the main event, and it makes the stars of the future. Warren Kane…Warren Kane SCREAMS “future star.”
His lineage includes some of the most brutal and skilled wrestlers I’ve ever known. He’s dedicated himself to living up to the family name. And he’s dedicated himself to being remembered as more than just “the son of Spike Kane.” Warren, I truly believe you’re going to be the future of IWF if you keep up like this. But I don’t get to worry about your future. I don’t have that luxury.
I have to worry about my present.
I have to be concerned with the fact that I’ve put myself at the bottom of a mine shaft, and I have to haul myself out before the weight of my mistakes crushes me beneath a mountain that I can’t move. I refuse to let the last note in my career be one of short-sighted desperation.
I’m not done yet. And Warren? You’re the opponent that’ll make the world see that.
I’ve never wrestled you, and I wanted to even before the world discovered who your father was .Warren Kidd was just as skilled and athletic a competitor as Warren Kane, and that Invictus Championship symbolizes a new start. Whether it’s men like you, at the start of their career…or men like the first Invictus Champion, an old enemy of mine. Kristoff Liam Bates got one more lease on life with the Invictus Championship. It can do that for me. And I would be proud—PROUD!—to be the Invictus Champion and hold that title high.
One last thing. Warren? Never sell yourself short. You’re a champion, goddammit. Hold your head high, and if someone ever claims that doesn’t matter, make like your father and make them PAY!
Next…I want to make a plea to management. Not on my own behalf. I’ve torched my bridges there, and that’ll be another day. No, my plea is for the sake of one of my opponents.
Someone, for the love of God, help Rob Diamond.
I’m serious. You’d think I would hate him. After all, he beat me for the Man of Steel Championship. He beat Kyle to retain it. He’s been a dead albatross around my neck for years. Wouldn’t I want to see him spiral into a self-destructive, imploding catastrophe? Shouldn’t I be enjoying this all?
No. Because, as I was recently reminded, I’m the better man. I don’t drop to that level. I want what’s best for IWF, and someone like Rob Diamond running around vandalizing property and raising havoc in the way he has? That’s not best for IWF, that’s not best for the bottom line…and it’s not best for Rob Diamond.
I can be angry at him all I like, but he needs to have the burdens taken off of him. He needs time away to recuperate, to get the help that he so desperately needs.
Do I want to beat him into that place of healing? Oh, you bet your ass. Anyone who can get away with wishing that his opponents would commit suicide that many times, anyone who can be that DISGUSTING of a person over and over…he needs to go.
And Roberto, you owe it to yourself and this dream of an IWF that can stand on its own two legs to make sure that lunatic doesn’t walk out with the Man of Steel Championship. Let me do us all a favor. Let me help you for once.
Let me help him.
But…you aren’t inclined to listen to me, Roberto. I’m not surprised. You’ve got no reason to. After all, no matter how many issues I might have with Rob Diamond, I sold my soul under the auspices of getting even with you.
You want me to say I screwed up? I don’t have to. Open your window and listen to the chorus. I finally had to be thrown head-first through that window, and once my head stopped ringing, it was deafening.
End of the day, I want to be Imperial Champion. Shocker, right? But this match is an opportunity that I might not get for a long, long time. Certainly it won’t be easy. I can’t waste this shot. I can’t, I won’t, and…and maybe that’s what you want. You’ve been telling me to be selfish for a long time, Verona. Maybe this is the night.
Maybe I tag in and steal the moment from one of my teammates. If that’s what it takes, then at this point I’ll do it, because being a champion is that important. The title means everything, and the Imperial Championship? That’s the one that means the most of all.
This match is the opportunity that, frankly, some are going to say I don’t deserve. And maybe I don’t in an objective world. That doesn’t matter. I have the chance. I have the opportunity. And I will not let it slip through my fingers.
No more. Not again. This is my night. No matter the wounds I’ve inflicted on myself…
I will survive.
Well howdy there pardner.