Post by The Ace on Feb 4, 2017 22:22:53 GMT
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Metamorphosis 2017
01/29/17
Backstage in a private luxury suite at the American Airlines Arena, The Conways and Tiffany Jones are sat watching the show in anticipation of the next match, something that promised to be an absolute bloodbath on paper - a God of Steel Rules Match for the IWF Man Of Steel Championship between two twenty year veterans of the business - Spike Kane and Falcon.
No sooner had Falcon begun to make his way to the ring for the match than Jake raised a knowing eyebrow in his eldest daughter's direction. Solitaire knew exactly what it meant and what was now expected of her, but it didn't stop her from pouting in protest, as he hands her back her pre-paid cell phone.
Solitaire: Awww, come on dad, please!
Jake: Sorry baby, you know the rules...
Solitaire: Mom?!
Kathy: We'll call you when it's safe for you guys to watch the rest of the show...
Tiffany gets up, grabbing Domino by the hand and almost herding a reluctant Solitaire out of the door, not happy that she was outnumbered by her parents on this issue.
Tiffany: Come on guys, we'll be back soon, I promise.
If what Spike Kane had already done to Johnny Gillmen less than a month ago was any indication, Tiffany could very well be right, only this time Jake had no intention of rushing out to stop Spike Kane like he had then. As far as Jake Conway was concerned, any man who had the absolute gall and extraordinary hubris to consider himself immortal deserved what happened to him each and every single time that his belief was proven demonstrably false.
Solitaire: You guys never let me watch the really good stuff!
With that last declaration, the ten year old is gone, held entirely to her parents' blanket ban on their children watching matches they both deemed much too violent for their consumption, sometimes even preemptively as was the case with a vast majority of Spike Kane matches.
"Crushed" by Parkway Drive plays throughout the arena as Kathy watches Falcon waiting monitor with an unusually keen interest.
Kathy: I knew it. I knew it! He's not going to show up...again!
Jake: Well, I can't say I blame him...after what happened...
Jake's voice trails off as the ghost of a long lost love laying in a hospital bed, crying, appears in his memory. Jake had never lost a living, breathing child, but he knew the pain of a new life denied. In another life, a life in which he never came to know Kathy, he would have settled with Alena Knight and she would have born their twin daughters without any of the genetic complications that ended up claiming their lives mid term.
Kathy: I'm sorry, but as far as Spike Kane goes, I'm a big believer in reaping what you sow. You can't go around being an asshole your whole life and not expect any of that shit to catch up with you eventually. Besides, if he really wanted to do the right thing, wouldn't he have marched into Verona's office, surrendered his Championship and gone home to grieve properly?
Now, she caught Jake's attention as he snapped his head in her direction, looking her dead in the eyes.
Jake: And how the fuck do you grieve properly for losing a fucking child, Kat?
Kathy is startled by the sudden anger that laced her husband's voice. She did not expect to have touched such a tender nerve. As she held his gaze, she knew there was a story there, buried deep, locked away from even her prying eyes. The silence that hung between them like an uncomfortable chill in the air was broken only by the ratting of knuckles at their door.
Jake looked over at the door, silently thankful for the interruption. He didn't want an argument, not tonight.
Jake: Come in...
A smiling Steve Awesome enters, the characteristic swagger seeming to have returned to his gait as he walks in, still basking in the glory of his triumph earlier in the night. Rob Diamond was gone from the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and Steve knew that was something everybody in this room right now would want to celebrate.
The couple stand up, and Steve first embraces Kathy Conway, and then Jake Conway, the two share a laugh.
Jake: Thank you, brother...
Steve: Hey, no problem dude, it was my pleasure. Rob won't be getting anywhere near Kathy ever again, I guarantee it.
Jake wasn't usually one to leave it to others to handle his affairs in the wrestling business, but if there was one man he had fostered a special trust and bond with over the years when it came to taking care of things inside a wrestling ring, it was the man the world knew as movie star and wrestling icon, Steve Awesome, but he knew as his best friend and long time partner in crime, Steve Bates.
Jake: That Chickenwing Crossface really was a thing of beauty...
Steve: Not as beautiful as hearing Rob scream for his life. So, come on guys, if we're going to do this, let's do it properly...
Jake and Kathy exchange quick glances. Steve chuckles as he quickly grabs a bottle of champagne and pops the cork from the table, determined to celebrate in style. He then pours out a few glasses.
Somehow, we all knew that eventually it would all come down to this, didn't we gentlemen?
You see if there's one thing I've learned better than anything else in my nearly fourteen years in this business, it is the fact that professional wrestling at its heart is a giant and mostly futile game of eventualities. A point which, due to my recent battles with Roberto Verona, has been hammered home for us both.
If you're a part of this business for long enough, you will inevitably begin to see the cracks start to appear in anything and everything that this business has bred and fostered and paraded out in front of thousands in every arena across the country and the millions more watching at home every week.
Over the last decade and a half, I have personally witnessed the demise of so many 'sure things' and 'safe bets' in this industry, that I have developed quite the sixth sense for knowing when things are starting to go south for somebody or something, be they an inexperienced and cocky rookie getting way too big for his boots, or the latest dominant force sweeping through this company.
The House of Howlett just so happened to give us a little bit of both.
I don't know if its funny or just plain sad that so many people in the Imperial Wrestling Federation have to be reminded so often of that one universal truth that underpins this line of work, but for all of you still struggling to keep up with where I'm going, here it is one more time:
Nothing lasts forever, especially in the business of professional wrestling.
Hot streaks, firm friendships, dominant champions, and historical records, all of them have an end.
It's only a matter of time and patience, and unlike most of my colleagues, I have both in spades.
Believe me, you won't get very far in this business if you can't exercise a little patience.
Wait for your moment, learn to pick your battles, and eventually you'll end up exactly where you need to be in this company.
Rush in like a stubborn and arrogant fool however, and the only certainty you'll ever come to know is failure. Trust me on this, it took me the better part of a decade to truly understand how to get the most out of this business. Before I realised my own potential and appreciated my own value as one of the best pure athletes to ever compete in between a set of ring ropes, I was every bit as arrogant as the current Imperial Champion, Cable Arcane and I was every bit as ignorant as former Invictus Champion, Noah Field.
It's easy, far too easy, to get swept up in some absurd notion of being some lone all conquering hero. It's easy, far too easy, to rush into a battle outnumbered and outgunned, all the while hoping that you'll be hailed as the man who saved the Imperial Wrestling Federation from the scourge of the House, single-handed.
How did that work out for Dre Cutler?
How did that work out for Jayson Matthews?
How did that work out for Nighthawk?
How did that work out for Todd Williams or Andrew Jacobsen?
The Ace shakes his head.
Each of these men let their pride and their need to be acknowledged as some kind of saviour of professional wrestling utterly consume them, and in doing so they played right into the hands of The House and as each of them fell away, they lent some credence to this prevailing idea that The House always wins. Now far be it from me to deny the marketability of such a slogan, but as far as I'm concerned, that's all it is, and all it ever will be.
A slogan.
A tagline.
Something fan friendly for people to quote whenever they reminisce amongst themselves about that one time a pretty blonde thing thought she ran a multi-million dollar wrestling promotion just because she had some controlling interest over a few of its current champions.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Now I really wouldn't be much of a gambler if I didn't accept the fact that you never bet against the House...
At least, not until you're sure that the odds are in your favour.
It's been a long time coming boys, but here we are.
With a couple of former Imperial Champions by my side this week, the odds are finally in my favour, so Cable, Noah, you can bet both your piddly asses that at Sacrifice, I'm going all in against the House for the first time...
But not the last.
See what I meant about the importance of picking your battles?
I knew the tides would turn eventually, and now the numbers are clearly not in The House's favour. The greatest advantage all of Miss Howlett's men ever had has been neutralised by one man's unbridled confidence and another man's unshakeable grief. The masters of the numbers game are for once themselves outnumbered, and now the rules have changed and the cracks have started to appear.
Whilst its true that Mike Laszlo, Alex Jones and myself may never be the best of friends, there is something that I know that I rely on to unite us when the bell rings on Monday Night, and as luck would have it, the one thing which will bring Mike, Alex and myself together is also the very thing that now hangs in the air above Noah Field's head - the chance he has been waiting for ever since he stepped into this company...
The chance to leave one hell of an impression on the very best that the Imperial Wrestling Federation has to offer.
That's you, isn't it Cable?
That is the one fact that you make sure to remind us all about at any given opportunity, isn't it?
Well, congratulations, Champ - in the dog eat dog world of our sport, you're about to find out how loyal a hungry dog really is.
And whilst I may not yet have cause to refute such a claim personally, believe me sunshine...
It's just a matter of time and patience...
No sooner had Falcon begun to make his way to the ring for the match than Jake raised a knowing eyebrow in his eldest daughter's direction. Solitaire knew exactly what it meant and what was now expected of her, but it didn't stop her from pouting in protest, as he hands her back her pre-paid cell phone.
Solitaire: Awww, come on dad, please!
Jake: Sorry baby, you know the rules...
Solitaire: Mom?!
Kathy: We'll call you when it's safe for you guys to watch the rest of the show...
Tiffany gets up, grabbing Domino by the hand and almost herding a reluctant Solitaire out of the door, not happy that she was outnumbered by her parents on this issue.
Tiffany: Come on guys, we'll be back soon, I promise.
If what Spike Kane had already done to Johnny Gillmen less than a month ago was any indication, Tiffany could very well be right, only this time Jake had no intention of rushing out to stop Spike Kane like he had then. As far as Jake Conway was concerned, any man who had the absolute gall and extraordinary hubris to consider himself immortal deserved what happened to him each and every single time that his belief was proven demonstrably false.
Solitaire: You guys never let me watch the really good stuff!
With that last declaration, the ten year old is gone, held entirely to her parents' blanket ban on their children watching matches they both deemed much too violent for their consumption, sometimes even preemptively as was the case with a vast majority of Spike Kane matches.
"Crushed" by Parkway Drive plays throughout the arena as Kathy watches Falcon waiting monitor with an unusually keen interest.
Kathy: I knew it. I knew it! He's not going to show up...again!
Jake: Well, I can't say I blame him...after what happened...
Jake's voice trails off as the ghost of a long lost love laying in a hospital bed, crying, appears in his memory. Jake had never lost a living, breathing child, but he knew the pain of a new life denied. In another life, a life in which he never came to know Kathy, he would have settled with Alena Knight and she would have born their twin daughters without any of the genetic complications that ended up claiming their lives mid term.
Kathy: I'm sorry, but as far as Spike Kane goes, I'm a big believer in reaping what you sow. You can't go around being an asshole your whole life and not expect any of that shit to catch up with you eventually. Besides, if he really wanted to do the right thing, wouldn't he have marched into Verona's office, surrendered his Championship and gone home to grieve properly?
Now, she caught Jake's attention as he snapped his head in her direction, looking her dead in the eyes.
Jake: And how the fuck do you grieve properly for losing a fucking child, Kat?
Kathy is startled by the sudden anger that laced her husband's voice. She did not expect to have touched such a tender nerve. As she held his gaze, she knew there was a story there, buried deep, locked away from even her prying eyes. The silence that hung between them like an uncomfortable chill in the air was broken only by the ratting of knuckles at their door.
Jake looked over at the door, silently thankful for the interruption. He didn't want an argument, not tonight.
Jake: Come in...
A smiling Steve Awesome enters, the characteristic swagger seeming to have returned to his gait as he walks in, still basking in the glory of his triumph earlier in the night. Rob Diamond was gone from the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and Steve knew that was something everybody in this room right now would want to celebrate.
The couple stand up, and Steve first embraces Kathy Conway, and then Jake Conway, the two share a laugh.
Jake: Thank you, brother...
Steve: Hey, no problem dude, it was my pleasure. Rob won't be getting anywhere near Kathy ever again, I guarantee it.
Jake wasn't usually one to leave it to others to handle his affairs in the wrestling business, but if there was one man he had fostered a special trust and bond with over the years when it came to taking care of things inside a wrestling ring, it was the man the world knew as movie star and wrestling icon, Steve Awesome, but he knew as his best friend and long time partner in crime, Steve Bates.
Jake: That Chickenwing Crossface really was a thing of beauty...
Steve: Not as beautiful as hearing Rob scream for his life. So, come on guys, if we're going to do this, let's do it properly...
Jake and Kathy exchange quick glances. Steve chuckles as he quickly grabs a bottle of champagne and pops the cork from the table, determined to celebrate in style. He then pours out a few glasses.
Somehow, we all knew that eventually it would all come down to this, didn't we gentlemen?
You see if there's one thing I've learned better than anything else in my nearly fourteen years in this business, it is the fact that professional wrestling at its heart is a giant and mostly futile game of eventualities. A point which, due to my recent battles with Roberto Verona, has been hammered home for us both.
If you're a part of this business for long enough, you will inevitably begin to see the cracks start to appear in anything and everything that this business has bred and fostered and paraded out in front of thousands in every arena across the country and the millions more watching at home every week.
Over the last decade and a half, I have personally witnessed the demise of so many 'sure things' and 'safe bets' in this industry, that I have developed quite the sixth sense for knowing when things are starting to go south for somebody or something, be they an inexperienced and cocky rookie getting way too big for his boots, or the latest dominant force sweeping through this company.
The House of Howlett just so happened to give us a little bit of both.
I don't know if its funny or just plain sad that so many people in the Imperial Wrestling Federation have to be reminded so often of that one universal truth that underpins this line of work, but for all of you still struggling to keep up with where I'm going, here it is one more time:
Nothing lasts forever, especially in the business of professional wrestling.
Hot streaks, firm friendships, dominant champions, and historical records, all of them have an end.
It's only a matter of time and patience, and unlike most of my colleagues, I have both in spades.
Believe me, you won't get very far in this business if you can't exercise a little patience.
Wait for your moment, learn to pick your battles, and eventually you'll end up exactly where you need to be in this company.
Rush in like a stubborn and arrogant fool however, and the only certainty you'll ever come to know is failure. Trust me on this, it took me the better part of a decade to truly understand how to get the most out of this business. Before I realised my own potential and appreciated my own value as one of the best pure athletes to ever compete in between a set of ring ropes, I was every bit as arrogant as the current Imperial Champion, Cable Arcane and I was every bit as ignorant as former Invictus Champion, Noah Field.
It's easy, far too easy, to get swept up in some absurd notion of being some lone all conquering hero. It's easy, far too easy, to rush into a battle outnumbered and outgunned, all the while hoping that you'll be hailed as the man who saved the Imperial Wrestling Federation from the scourge of the House, single-handed.
How did that work out for Dre Cutler?
How did that work out for Jayson Matthews?
How did that work out for Nighthawk?
How did that work out for Todd Williams or Andrew Jacobsen?
The Ace shakes his head.
Each of these men let their pride and their need to be acknowledged as some kind of saviour of professional wrestling utterly consume them, and in doing so they played right into the hands of The House and as each of them fell away, they lent some credence to this prevailing idea that The House always wins. Now far be it from me to deny the marketability of such a slogan, but as far as I'm concerned, that's all it is, and all it ever will be.
A slogan.
A tagline.
Something fan friendly for people to quote whenever they reminisce amongst themselves about that one time a pretty blonde thing thought she ran a multi-million dollar wrestling promotion just because she had some controlling interest over a few of its current champions.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Now I really wouldn't be much of a gambler if I didn't accept the fact that you never bet against the House...
At least, not until you're sure that the odds are in your favour.
It's been a long time coming boys, but here we are.
With a couple of former Imperial Champions by my side this week, the odds are finally in my favour, so Cable, Noah, you can bet both your piddly asses that at Sacrifice, I'm going all in against the House for the first time...
But not the last.
See what I meant about the importance of picking your battles?
I knew the tides would turn eventually, and now the numbers are clearly not in The House's favour. The greatest advantage all of Miss Howlett's men ever had has been neutralised by one man's unbridled confidence and another man's unshakeable grief. The masters of the numbers game are for once themselves outnumbered, and now the rules have changed and the cracks have started to appear.
Whilst its true that Mike Laszlo, Alex Jones and myself may never be the best of friends, there is something that I know that I rely on to unite us when the bell rings on Monday Night, and as luck would have it, the one thing which will bring Mike, Alex and myself together is also the very thing that now hangs in the air above Noah Field's head - the chance he has been waiting for ever since he stepped into this company...
The chance to leave one hell of an impression on the very best that the Imperial Wrestling Federation has to offer.
That's you, isn't it Cable?
That is the one fact that you make sure to remind us all about at any given opportunity, isn't it?
Well, congratulations, Champ - in the dog eat dog world of our sport, you're about to find out how loyal a hungry dog really is.
And whilst I may not yet have cause to refute such a claim personally, believe me sunshine...
It's just a matter of time and patience...
Well howdy there pardner.