Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jan 16, 2017 5:25:36 GMT
Alex Jones.
I could bring all my hate to bear on you, Alex. I could spew venom from the bottom of my stomach and I could rail against you until the last drop of energy bled from my body. I could curse you, I could insult you, I could blame you for everything bad that's happened to me for the last year and a half. Hell, I could blame you for each downward swing my career has taken. My time as X Division Champion. The Young Guns. And the last one...I DO have words for you on that one. But you know what blaming you for all that does?
Nothing.
It does nothing. It would be a lie. Because the person that made those calls at the end of the day...that was me. You beat me fair and square that day in Madison Square Garden. I took the invitation from Venom to join the Young Guns. And I took your invitation. I listened to you when you offered me a place at your side. I believed you when you said that you were in this to overthrow a tyrant. I've always been a sucker for a revolution, and I do still believe in the things that we were supposed to be fighting for. But...the way we fought? Like cowards? Gang assaults, ambushes?
And what did we do? In the end, what did we really do? We shook the boat a little, but it didn't make a damn difference. We were all gone. You were gone, I got kicked out of the company, Kyle was gone, Aaron...hell, I still haven't heard from Aaron. I put my ass on the line for you, Alex. Because I believed. Because I wanted to believe in you. And we got left hanging because of it. You betrayed that faith that we all had in you.
Maybe it could have been different. Maybe, somehow, we could have actually changed something. But how were we going to change anything? We weren't going to oust the COO of the damn company by throwing tantrums. Maybe that would have worked on some weak-willed lifetime corporate stooge with a degree and a badly-tailored suit...but we were fighting something far worse than that. You thought we were fighting Leonard Fox again. But Leonard Fox was nothing compared to Roberto Verona.
And that's the tragedy. If we had stayed focused, then we might have been able to get under his skin. Maybe get him to put up his position against something. A career? The World Title? But by turning into a swarming annoyance, all we did was annoy him. He could ignore the gnats we'd become. And once we lost our direction, we splintered. Once it just became about us, we didn't have that drive. Because that's not righteousness. That's greed, and I don't know about you, but I want to be more than just a greedy jerk.
I got to think about my life while I was away, Alex. I got to think about my legacy, and I realized that I didn't want to leave things as I had. I didn't want the last title win I had to be a mercy switch from the Ace. I didn't want to have the last run I had in this company be a testament to all of the mistakes that I've made throughout my career. Let me put it this way, Alex. I didn't want to just be one more for the Body Count.
Andrew and Danielle sit across the table in Danielle's apartment from each other, a box of pizza sitting down the table from them. Andrew takes a bite of his pizza, oddly silent, and Danielle speaks to fill the void, concern written across her brow.
"Are...you okay, Andrew? No, scratch that, I know you. You're not. Wanna talk about it?"
Andrew swallows his bite, setting the pizza back on his plate and pausing for a moment. He looks up into Danielle's eyes, speaking very carefully, with measured syllables.
"It's Alex. I know what he's going to do. I know what he's going to say, and I'm hardening myself against it. But...there's still that anticipation."
Danielle nods, taking a sip from a glass of water, and she shuffles slightly in her seat, hair swaying in a ponytail behind her.
"Yeah. I know what you mean. It's not fun. But look at this way...why does what he thinks matter?"
Andrew tilts his head, confused, and Danielle presses forward on the conversation point, unconsciously slipping into a businesslike tone of voice.
"He's never had your best interests in heart. He's always been in this for Alex Jones. What's he going to say that you can really take away that's of value? Even Jake, at his core, saw something in you. That's why he would get so angry when you stumbled. That's why he was so pissed at you when you bought the Body Count manifesto. He wanted you to be better. Alex can't get anything out of you, so he's going to try to tear you down. When he tears you down, he makes himself feel better. He's probably more insecure than you are, really."
Andrew opens his mouth to protest, but shakes his head instead, taking another bite of pizza. He washes it down with a drink of his own water, voice laden with a weary resignation as he speaks.
"I know that. Objectively, I know that. I should be able to just shut his Texan ass out. But...he just gets to me. How long have I been wrestling? Seven and a half years? And what do I have to show for it? A month at the top. A brief gasp of greatness, and then a long trail of throwing it away. He's got more to show for his career than I do."
Danielle laughs at that, covering her mouth with a grin. Andrew blinks, looking a little offended, and Danielle shakes her head, letting her laugh die off a little before speaking again.
"He does? What, he's got some belts? I thought we established that title runs don't matter the same to you. We both know it. That's not what drives you. He's insulting you like that because it's what would hurt him the most. You've got plenty to show for your career, and you'll be able to make more moments than he'll be able to win titles, guaranteed. In the end, if we look at what matters most to each man, there's no way he'll ever be able to catch up to you."
Andrew cracks a smile, nodding, and polishes off his food, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.
"I...I'm still unlearning a lot of bad habits I picked up as a kid. Jesus, I came up in such a weird company, didn't I?"
Danielle reaches over, patting Andrew on the shoulder. She smiles fondly at him, running her thumb back and forth along his shoulder.
"Nah. You just came up in a harsh business. A lot of people end up like this. You're just lucky you have me to bail your ass out. Now...he comes at you with that bull, what're you going to do?"
Andrew shrugs, flashing a soft grin at her.
"Tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm going to let it roll off my back and kick him so hard he flies back across the Gulf to Dallas where he belongs. Black Dragon my ass. Call me St. George, 'cause I'm going dragonslayer on him."
Danielle crows, grinning and clapping. She takes a bite of her own pizza, sitting back slightly with a contented look on her face.
"That's what I wanted to hear. Now let's finish this pizza, this place reheats terribly."
Andrew pauses, shrugging, and grins, reaching over and taking two slices of pizza. Danielle rolls her eyes, grinning, and we fade to black on the two of them exchanging a held glance over the plates.
I don't expect your empathy. It's never been something you've been good at. You don't build, Alex, you tear down. You hate. It's your gift. You tear from others and you build your throne on their blood, tears and sweat. All I really expect from you is that you're going to come into this looking for the same Andrew Jacobsen you've always seen. The one who lets his doubts and fears control him. The one who's so afraid of losing what he's got that he blunders into it in the name of protection. I'm not that man anymore. I learned my lessons. I took my time. I focused up. I'm stronger than I was. Not necessarily physically, but emotionally. I was a kid when I started wrestling. Fresh out of college with a smile on my face and a hope in my heart. I got into the business based on my father's name and what I'd done while I studied. I needed that time to mature, and I've learned from the mistakes I've made along the way.
You know what the greatest thing I can do with my career is, Alex? I can leave a legacy that others can follow. I can show them what to do, what not to do, and when it's all said and done I can hope that I foster the same love in their heart that led me into this ring in the first place. I believe in that, more than I've ever believed in anything before. More than I've ever believed in myself before. It's not about titles...it's about the love of the game. That's what I've rededicated myself to. I don't want to fight for glory's sake. I want to fight for honor. I want to fight for what's right, the right way.
I don't like you. Deep down, I never really have. At our cores, we're opposites. You're willing to sacrifice everything and everyone if it means you can be the one atop the flaming rubble when it all settles. You want to be the king even if it means you have to raze the kingdom. Me? I realize that without the people to watch, without their remembrance, it means nothing. I will not look on my works and despair. Will you? At the end of the day, Alex, will those titles fill the hole in your heart? I hope they will. I really do...
But I think we both know the truth. And I weep for you, man. But I won't show pity. You say you've turned over a new leaf. There's only one way to know for sure. Step into that ring and prove it.
I could bring all my hate to bear on you, Alex. I could spew venom from the bottom of my stomach and I could rail against you until the last drop of energy bled from my body. I could curse you, I could insult you, I could blame you for everything bad that's happened to me for the last year and a half. Hell, I could blame you for each downward swing my career has taken. My time as X Division Champion. The Young Guns. And the last one...I DO have words for you on that one. But you know what blaming you for all that does?
Nothing.
It does nothing. It would be a lie. Because the person that made those calls at the end of the day...that was me. You beat me fair and square that day in Madison Square Garden. I took the invitation from Venom to join the Young Guns. And I took your invitation. I listened to you when you offered me a place at your side. I believed you when you said that you were in this to overthrow a tyrant. I've always been a sucker for a revolution, and I do still believe in the things that we were supposed to be fighting for. But...the way we fought? Like cowards? Gang assaults, ambushes?
And what did we do? In the end, what did we really do? We shook the boat a little, but it didn't make a damn difference. We were all gone. You were gone, I got kicked out of the company, Kyle was gone, Aaron...hell, I still haven't heard from Aaron. I put my ass on the line for you, Alex. Because I believed. Because I wanted to believe in you. And we got left hanging because of it. You betrayed that faith that we all had in you.
Maybe it could have been different. Maybe, somehow, we could have actually changed something. But how were we going to change anything? We weren't going to oust the COO of the damn company by throwing tantrums. Maybe that would have worked on some weak-willed lifetime corporate stooge with a degree and a badly-tailored suit...but we were fighting something far worse than that. You thought we were fighting Leonard Fox again. But Leonard Fox was nothing compared to Roberto Verona.
And that's the tragedy. If we had stayed focused, then we might have been able to get under his skin. Maybe get him to put up his position against something. A career? The World Title? But by turning into a swarming annoyance, all we did was annoy him. He could ignore the gnats we'd become. And once we lost our direction, we splintered. Once it just became about us, we didn't have that drive. Because that's not righteousness. That's greed, and I don't know about you, but I want to be more than just a greedy jerk.
I got to think about my life while I was away, Alex. I got to think about my legacy, and I realized that I didn't want to leave things as I had. I didn't want the last title win I had to be a mercy switch from the Ace. I didn't want to have the last run I had in this company be a testament to all of the mistakes that I've made throughout my career. Let me put it this way, Alex. I didn't want to just be one more for the Body Count.
Andrew and Danielle sit across the table in Danielle's apartment from each other, a box of pizza sitting down the table from them. Andrew takes a bite of his pizza, oddly silent, and Danielle speaks to fill the void, concern written across her brow.
"Are...you okay, Andrew? No, scratch that, I know you. You're not. Wanna talk about it?"
Andrew swallows his bite, setting the pizza back on his plate and pausing for a moment. He looks up into Danielle's eyes, speaking very carefully, with measured syllables.
"It's Alex. I know what he's going to do. I know what he's going to say, and I'm hardening myself against it. But...there's still that anticipation."
Danielle nods, taking a sip from a glass of water, and she shuffles slightly in her seat, hair swaying in a ponytail behind her.
"Yeah. I know what you mean. It's not fun. But look at this way...why does what he thinks matter?"
Andrew tilts his head, confused, and Danielle presses forward on the conversation point, unconsciously slipping into a businesslike tone of voice.
"He's never had your best interests in heart. He's always been in this for Alex Jones. What's he going to say that you can really take away that's of value? Even Jake, at his core, saw something in you. That's why he would get so angry when you stumbled. That's why he was so pissed at you when you bought the Body Count manifesto. He wanted you to be better. Alex can't get anything out of you, so he's going to try to tear you down. When he tears you down, he makes himself feel better. He's probably more insecure than you are, really."
Andrew opens his mouth to protest, but shakes his head instead, taking another bite of pizza. He washes it down with a drink of his own water, voice laden with a weary resignation as he speaks.
"I know that. Objectively, I know that. I should be able to just shut his Texan ass out. But...he just gets to me. How long have I been wrestling? Seven and a half years? And what do I have to show for it? A month at the top. A brief gasp of greatness, and then a long trail of throwing it away. He's got more to show for his career than I do."
Danielle laughs at that, covering her mouth with a grin. Andrew blinks, looking a little offended, and Danielle shakes her head, letting her laugh die off a little before speaking again.
"He does? What, he's got some belts? I thought we established that title runs don't matter the same to you. We both know it. That's not what drives you. He's insulting you like that because it's what would hurt him the most. You've got plenty to show for your career, and you'll be able to make more moments than he'll be able to win titles, guaranteed. In the end, if we look at what matters most to each man, there's no way he'll ever be able to catch up to you."
Andrew cracks a smile, nodding, and polishes off his food, wiping at his mouth with a napkin.
"I...I'm still unlearning a lot of bad habits I picked up as a kid. Jesus, I came up in such a weird company, didn't I?"
Danielle reaches over, patting Andrew on the shoulder. She smiles fondly at him, running her thumb back and forth along his shoulder.
"Nah. You just came up in a harsh business. A lot of people end up like this. You're just lucky you have me to bail your ass out. Now...he comes at you with that bull, what're you going to do?"
Andrew shrugs, flashing a soft grin at her.
"Tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm going to let it roll off my back and kick him so hard he flies back across the Gulf to Dallas where he belongs. Black Dragon my ass. Call me St. George, 'cause I'm going dragonslayer on him."
Danielle crows, grinning and clapping. She takes a bite of her own pizza, sitting back slightly with a contented look on her face.
"That's what I wanted to hear. Now let's finish this pizza, this place reheats terribly."
Andrew pauses, shrugging, and grins, reaching over and taking two slices of pizza. Danielle rolls her eyes, grinning, and we fade to black on the two of them exchanging a held glance over the plates.
I don't expect your empathy. It's never been something you've been good at. You don't build, Alex, you tear down. You hate. It's your gift. You tear from others and you build your throne on their blood, tears and sweat. All I really expect from you is that you're going to come into this looking for the same Andrew Jacobsen you've always seen. The one who lets his doubts and fears control him. The one who's so afraid of losing what he's got that he blunders into it in the name of protection. I'm not that man anymore. I learned my lessons. I took my time. I focused up. I'm stronger than I was. Not necessarily physically, but emotionally. I was a kid when I started wrestling. Fresh out of college with a smile on my face and a hope in my heart. I got into the business based on my father's name and what I'd done while I studied. I needed that time to mature, and I've learned from the mistakes I've made along the way.
You know what the greatest thing I can do with my career is, Alex? I can leave a legacy that others can follow. I can show them what to do, what not to do, and when it's all said and done I can hope that I foster the same love in their heart that led me into this ring in the first place. I believe in that, more than I've ever believed in anything before. More than I've ever believed in myself before. It's not about titles...it's about the love of the game. That's what I've rededicated myself to. I don't want to fight for glory's sake. I want to fight for honor. I want to fight for what's right, the right way.
I don't like you. Deep down, I never really have. At our cores, we're opposites. You're willing to sacrifice everything and everyone if it means you can be the one atop the flaming rubble when it all settles. You want to be the king even if it means you have to raze the kingdom. Me? I realize that without the people to watch, without their remembrance, it means nothing. I will not look on my works and despair. Will you? At the end of the day, Alex, will those titles fill the hole in your heart? I hope they will. I really do...
But I think we both know the truth. And I weep for you, man. But I won't show pity. You say you've turned over a new leaf. There's only one way to know for sure. Step into that ring and prove it.
Well howdy there pardner.