Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jan 30, 2017 5:59:47 GMT
When you ask the average fan what the face of technical wrestling in the modern era looks like, they'll tell you it looks like Nighthawk and Andrew Jacobsen. We put each other through our paces every time we step into the ring together. We push ourselves to the limit each and every night we step in the ring, and we make our opponents dig deeper than they ever have. The people recognized you and how amazing you are this year. They called you their Hero of the Year. And you were their Hero of the Year.
But this is a new year, Nighthawk. And I want to be their hero once more.
You almost had me, man. You almost had me in the center of that ring. I was ready to tap out. I was ready to acknowledge that you had me beat. And I got saved by the bell. I admit it. You had me. And do you know what that does to me?
Who the hell am I kidding? Of course you do. You know that it eats me alive.
I lie awake at night knowing that specter hangs over my neck, like the sword of Damocles. It judges me, and people judge me for its presence. I'm better than that. I know I can beat you. I've beaten you before. I can do it...but I have to do it twice now. I have to put you down twice in one night. And there's no bell to save me. There's no time limit to end things. We have to have a winner. We have to find a better man between the two of us, even if for one night. And while if you win, I will be happy to shake your hand and acknowledge the achievement you've completed...
I know I can do this.
I know that I can beat you again, I know that I can vanquish that specter properly and fairly. I don't want to be the man that drives you to the hospital because I've lost my self-control. I don't want to cheat to beat you. As far as I'm concerned, Andrew Jacobsen hasn't beaten you. Not the Andrew Jacobsen I am at heart. I want to set that right. Wipe the scales right here and right now, we are at 0-0. By the end of the night, one of us will own two victories over the other...and I know in my bones that it will be me.
It's only appropriate that we're meeting at Metamorphosis, Hawk. An event that's lived through the death of companies, an event that's hosted some of the bloodiest and most brutal matches to ever be inflicted upon a screen...an event whose very name is synonymous with change and evolution. Ever since I set foot back in the doors of IWF late last year, I have been dedicated to transforming myself and my legacy. On this night, in front of the world, I will live up to that promise that I carry on my shoulders and I will emerge stronger.
But pride's not all that's on the line. The Man of Steel #1 contendership. A chance to either lock up with the man whose reign upon the top of the wrestling world heralded my first steps into this business...or a man who has seen every extreme of emotion in his two-decade bloody trail of destruction. I'll be honest, I hope Falcon doesn't take this. Not because I wish him ill. Far from it, I want him to find success in his life as well. But because I need a baptism by fire the likes of which can only be delivered by a man who saw himself slipping into the dark and didn't try to hold on. Hell, he pushed off.
He can write a trail of gore and devastation through all of IWF, but Spike Kane will know that even gods can be laid low and made mortal. I will burn in his eyes, unyielding and unmoving like the star that gives me my name, and I will show him that even the most lost souls can find their way again. All they need to know is where to look...and what path to follow.
But that's in the future, and a future that may not even come to pass. If I take my eyes off tonight, then all of that talk of idols and grandstanding about being right will be for nothing. I can't build a road without stones to pave it, and I can't build a bridge without the steel to lay down. This match is the final tempering that will set one of us on that collision course. I know you're a good man, Nighthawk. I know that if you end up across that ring, you'll do well. But...I need this chance. And I will fight hardscrabble to get it.
This is a formality. You always do this. But if I don't say it, I won't be able to live with myself...Nighthawk? Bring your best. I'll bring mine.
And the best man will win. Good luck.
Andrew takes a deep breath, looking up at the imposing structure of the American Airlines Arena. Danielle steps out of the taxi next to him, leaning back in to grab her purse and pay the driver. Andrew shifts his duffel bag, smiling broadly as Danielle steps back up next to him and the taxi pulls away. She taps him on the shoulder.
"Hey Andrew, can we talk about something?"
Andrew nods absentmindedly, half in a reverie, unable to break his eyes from the large sign reading IWF PRESENTS METAMORPHOSIS IV, LIVE JANUARY 29 @ 7:00.
"Yeah? What do you want to talk about, Dani?"
She reaches up, snapping her fingers in front of his face to break the haze, and Andrew jumps a bit, looking over and down at the much smaller Chase. Danielle looks up at him, her expression half irritation and half worry.
"I want to talk about you trying to schedule multiple matches without consulting your agent. You're trying to get in there for one of the most grueling matches in all of professional wrestling, one you've never competed in I might add, against a man who took you to your limits, and THEN get into it with the Imperial Champion and two other men? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to shorten your career?"
Andrew looks down at her, shoulders slumping slightly. He inhales slowly, unconsciously putting his hands out as he tries to placate his irritated manager and paramour.
"It's not that, it's just...I know what kind of opportunistic leeches were going to try to throw their names in to compete. I wanted to make sure I was on the radar so someone of integrity had enough profile to get noticed. If I even have a snowball's chance of bringing the highest prize in this industry out of the clutches of that egomaniac Cable Arcane, then I'm taking it, no question about it."
Danielle snorts, shaking her head, and gestures for him to walk with her.
"So that's it? It's your goddamn martyr's complex acting up again? Jesus on a pogo stick, Andrew, you need to get that thing looked at. Alright. Let's take this step by step. You go into your match with Nighthawk. You manage to pull out the win. You have to expect that he'll be able to take a fall at some point. You'll have wrestled three matches that night. And then you want to go into it with up to three fresh men? What do you think's going to happen?"
Andrew opens his mouth to speak, but Danielle cuts him off.
"You're going to be beat to hell. You're going to be exhausted. You're going to be the immediate target. Do you think you'll win like that? You're going to play to that martyr complex to the hilt, and you will DIE ON THAT HILL! Andrew...you're not going to walk out of here if you go into that match. You're getting stretchered out."
Andrew takes a deep breath, nodding slowly, and he speaks again, conviction radiating from his voice.
"No. I'm not. I'm walking out under my own power. I'm walking out with my head held high. And I'm walking out with that Imperial Championship around my waist. You can push yourself hard and fast. You can push yourself to the wire, and it can WORK. I can do this. I've gone to hell and back before. I've wrestled marathons before. I've pulled double duty before. I've wrestled for an hour a night, seven days a week. And I'm in the shape of my life. I'm at the best I've been in my entire career. I put the specter of Body Count behind me, and I'm going to put the nightmare that has been my IWF tenure behind me at Metamorphosis. Sunday's my night, Dani. Things are going to change...I can feel it."
He looks deep into her eyes, and Danielle fights to maintain a neutral expression for a few seconds before melting into a wry grin.
"Dammit, you're sexy when you're passionate."
She pulls him in for a deep kiss, and they hold it for a few seconds before breaking. Andrew grins back at Danielle, a huge smile on his face.
"Damn. I need to give speeches more often. So, uh, what d'you say we head inside and get the lay of the land?"
Danielle shakes her head, sighing, and reluctantly nods.
"I don't get your obsession with this...alright, let's go."
With that, they head inside as we fade to black.
But this is a new year, Nighthawk. And I want to be their hero once more.
You almost had me, man. You almost had me in the center of that ring. I was ready to tap out. I was ready to acknowledge that you had me beat. And I got saved by the bell. I admit it. You had me. And do you know what that does to me?
Who the hell am I kidding? Of course you do. You know that it eats me alive.
I lie awake at night knowing that specter hangs over my neck, like the sword of Damocles. It judges me, and people judge me for its presence. I'm better than that. I know I can beat you. I've beaten you before. I can do it...but I have to do it twice now. I have to put you down twice in one night. And there's no bell to save me. There's no time limit to end things. We have to have a winner. We have to find a better man between the two of us, even if for one night. And while if you win, I will be happy to shake your hand and acknowledge the achievement you've completed...
I know I can do this.
I know that I can beat you again, I know that I can vanquish that specter properly and fairly. I don't want to be the man that drives you to the hospital because I've lost my self-control. I don't want to cheat to beat you. As far as I'm concerned, Andrew Jacobsen hasn't beaten you. Not the Andrew Jacobsen I am at heart. I want to set that right. Wipe the scales right here and right now, we are at 0-0. By the end of the night, one of us will own two victories over the other...and I know in my bones that it will be me.
It's only appropriate that we're meeting at Metamorphosis, Hawk. An event that's lived through the death of companies, an event that's hosted some of the bloodiest and most brutal matches to ever be inflicted upon a screen...an event whose very name is synonymous with change and evolution. Ever since I set foot back in the doors of IWF late last year, I have been dedicated to transforming myself and my legacy. On this night, in front of the world, I will live up to that promise that I carry on my shoulders and I will emerge stronger.
But pride's not all that's on the line. The Man of Steel #1 contendership. A chance to either lock up with the man whose reign upon the top of the wrestling world heralded my first steps into this business...or a man who has seen every extreme of emotion in his two-decade bloody trail of destruction. I'll be honest, I hope Falcon doesn't take this. Not because I wish him ill. Far from it, I want him to find success in his life as well. But because I need a baptism by fire the likes of which can only be delivered by a man who saw himself slipping into the dark and didn't try to hold on. Hell, he pushed off.
He can write a trail of gore and devastation through all of IWF, but Spike Kane will know that even gods can be laid low and made mortal. I will burn in his eyes, unyielding and unmoving like the star that gives me my name, and I will show him that even the most lost souls can find their way again. All they need to know is where to look...and what path to follow.
But that's in the future, and a future that may not even come to pass. If I take my eyes off tonight, then all of that talk of idols and grandstanding about being right will be for nothing. I can't build a road without stones to pave it, and I can't build a bridge without the steel to lay down. This match is the final tempering that will set one of us on that collision course. I know you're a good man, Nighthawk. I know that if you end up across that ring, you'll do well. But...I need this chance. And I will fight hardscrabble to get it.
This is a formality. You always do this. But if I don't say it, I won't be able to live with myself...Nighthawk? Bring your best. I'll bring mine.
And the best man will win. Good luck.
Andrew takes a deep breath, looking up at the imposing structure of the American Airlines Arena. Danielle steps out of the taxi next to him, leaning back in to grab her purse and pay the driver. Andrew shifts his duffel bag, smiling broadly as Danielle steps back up next to him and the taxi pulls away. She taps him on the shoulder.
"Hey Andrew, can we talk about something?"
Andrew nods absentmindedly, half in a reverie, unable to break his eyes from the large sign reading IWF PRESENTS METAMORPHOSIS IV, LIVE JANUARY 29 @ 7:00.
"Yeah? What do you want to talk about, Dani?"
She reaches up, snapping her fingers in front of his face to break the haze, and Andrew jumps a bit, looking over and down at the much smaller Chase. Danielle looks up at him, her expression half irritation and half worry.
"I want to talk about you trying to schedule multiple matches without consulting your agent. You're trying to get in there for one of the most grueling matches in all of professional wrestling, one you've never competed in I might add, against a man who took you to your limits, and THEN get into it with the Imperial Champion and two other men? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to shorten your career?"
Andrew looks down at her, shoulders slumping slightly. He inhales slowly, unconsciously putting his hands out as he tries to placate his irritated manager and paramour.
"It's not that, it's just...I know what kind of opportunistic leeches were going to try to throw their names in to compete. I wanted to make sure I was on the radar so someone of integrity had enough profile to get noticed. If I even have a snowball's chance of bringing the highest prize in this industry out of the clutches of that egomaniac Cable Arcane, then I'm taking it, no question about it."
Danielle snorts, shaking her head, and gestures for him to walk with her.
"So that's it? It's your goddamn martyr's complex acting up again? Jesus on a pogo stick, Andrew, you need to get that thing looked at. Alright. Let's take this step by step. You go into your match with Nighthawk. You manage to pull out the win. You have to expect that he'll be able to take a fall at some point. You'll have wrestled three matches that night. And then you want to go into it with up to three fresh men? What do you think's going to happen?"
Andrew opens his mouth to speak, but Danielle cuts him off.
"You're going to be beat to hell. You're going to be exhausted. You're going to be the immediate target. Do you think you'll win like that? You're going to play to that martyr complex to the hilt, and you will DIE ON THAT HILL! Andrew...you're not going to walk out of here if you go into that match. You're getting stretchered out."
Andrew takes a deep breath, nodding slowly, and he speaks again, conviction radiating from his voice.
"No. I'm not. I'm walking out under my own power. I'm walking out with my head held high. And I'm walking out with that Imperial Championship around my waist. You can push yourself hard and fast. You can push yourself to the wire, and it can WORK. I can do this. I've gone to hell and back before. I've wrestled marathons before. I've pulled double duty before. I've wrestled for an hour a night, seven days a week. And I'm in the shape of my life. I'm at the best I've been in my entire career. I put the specter of Body Count behind me, and I'm going to put the nightmare that has been my IWF tenure behind me at Metamorphosis. Sunday's my night, Dani. Things are going to change...I can feel it."
He looks deep into her eyes, and Danielle fights to maintain a neutral expression for a few seconds before melting into a wry grin.
"Dammit, you're sexy when you're passionate."
She pulls him in for a deep kiss, and they hold it for a few seconds before breaking. Andrew grins back at Danielle, a huge smile on his face.
"Damn. I need to give speeches more often. So, uh, what d'you say we head inside and get the lay of the land?"
Danielle shakes her head, sighing, and reluctantly nods.
"I don't get your obsession with this...alright, let's go."
With that, they head inside as we fade to black.
Well howdy there pardner.