Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Mar 27, 2017 4:58:50 GMT
Spike...I brought this on myself.
I know I brought this on myself. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't know what I was doing. They say I'm walking into the ring with a madman, a completely remorseless psychopath. They say there's no humanity left to reach, that you've walled yourself behind a barricade of blood and steel that nobody can break. I know differently. I know the truth. You're still in there, Spike. The Spike Kane I once knew. The Spike Kane we used to be able to call friend, idol...brother. The Spike that fought his way into the Hall of Fame and into our hearts.
Do you know how I figured that out? That moment of hesitation when I called you out again. If you were really given over to this path of destruction that you say you're locked on, you would have accepted the chance to end another career in a heartbeat. But you demurred, because it's not about rage to you. It's not about grief. It's about gold. More accurately...it's about steel. You can't let go of the Man of Steel Championship, and you didn't want to take the chance that you wouldn't be able to drop me from the top of that cage with the Blood God's Wrath again.
But then I threw out the bait that was too tempting for you to refuse. Your match. Your rules. All or nothing. And yeah, the Board of Directors gave me a God of Steel Match when they denied you that stipulation. You know why? They want to see this end as much as I do, Spike, and they know that this is the only way to do it. You either need to put me six feet deep, or I need to do what I've set out to do, and that's free you...because your walls have become a prison.
You've trapped yourself in your own head, Spike. You have this...sick, obsessive need to prove yourself to be the best, the bloody God of Steel, and you're letting it consume everything else about you. You used to be so much more, and now all you see yourself as is a titleholder. Not a champion, not a Hall of Famer who holds a title...a titleholder. You've put so much of yourself into the Man of Steel Championship that you've turned into a shell of yourself. You may destroy everything in your path, Spike, but the time will come when you see nothing before you to conquer, you'll turn to look at the road that led you there...and you will look upon your works, Oh Lord, and you will despair.
And that's what I'm trying to save you from. I'm trying to break the grip you have on that title, or that it has on you, before you get so twisted by it and the thought of having it that you're not you anymore. That flicker on Sacrifice, that was all I needed to confirm it. You're still in there, Spike. Fight it. Fight, Spike, fight. You've always been a fighter. For your entire life, for the two decades and counting of your career, we've always been able to count on you to get back up and keep swinging...and for you to keep fighting, you're going to have to know when to stay down.
If you get back up, if you keep clinging onto that title, you surrender to it. If you let yourself stay the God of Steel, you throw away Spike Kane. I'm trying one last time to reach you, here and now...but if this doesn't work, if you refuse to let anything through the jail that this self-appointed sobriquet's locked you into, then I give up. If I can't bring you back with your own flesh and blood, if you're willing to give up your last. Begotten. Family...for the sake of being a "legend"...then you can stay in your personal hell, and I will let you burn.
Andrew climbs off the ring mat, sweat pouring from his forehead. He looks up as he clutches his shoulders, the dull, pounding ache of a long day's workout popping sharply as he unconsciously tenses his muscles and lets them fall slack again. Andrew's training partner for today, his frequent sparring partner and IWF developmental prospect Isaac Everett, is still flat on the canvas, clutching his back and groaning. Andrew shakes his head, walking over and offering him a hand up. Isaac barely makes it back to his feet, even with the assist, and staggers about on rubber legs. Andrew chuckles to himself, looking Isaac over. "What's wrong, Isaac? You're in insane shape, how are you dropping so soon?"
Isaac looks Andrew in the eyes, a disbelieving expression on his face, and shakes his head slowly. "Dude...you must be joking. We've been going for, like, an hour grappling, and you know that ain't my wheelhouse. Of course I'm gonna be worn down."
Andrew nods, taking a deep breath. "Okay, so we've been going at it pretty hard. I know you push your cardio. What's on your mind?"
Isaac shakes his head, leaning against the turnbuckles. "Andrew, you've been grinding yourself trying to get ready of this match. You been grinding me too, so don't say that you can take it, 'cause at this point I don't know if my ass can take it anymore. What are you hoping to get out of this? You're not going to be exchanging wristlocks with Spike, you're going to damn war."
Andrew puts his hands up, a brief look of resignation flashing across his face. "Look, I know. I know this isn't going to be a normal match, but what am I supposed to do? Go out and start bar fights? I need to be grounded. I need to be focused. And this is helping me get into a better place. I can't go in there carrying any hate."
Isaac chuckles, shaking his head. "You mean you've been taking out your hate on me? Andy, I feel so loved. So you've been purging your hate. What you gonna do, go into things with love and peace? It's Spike Kane, he ain't gonna lie down for a fruit basket. You gotta have some fire."
"I know." Andrew replies quickly, almost a little too quickly. "I know he is. I've wrestled him more times than you have, kid. But...I've tried to fight him with hate, and I never use hate well. It's not in my nature. I need to go into things looking to build, not to destroy. I'm building my regrowth, and I'm building Spike's sanity back up, brick by damned brick."
"That really what you're doing, though?" Isaac shakes his head again, rolling his wrists and forcing himself back out of the corner. "You sure you're not just using this opportunity to get another shot at the title? Seems like an easy angle. Play the sympathetic friend so you can get another shot at glory?"
"That's what Spike's said too." Andrew sighs, leaning against the ring ropes. "Look, if I could divorce things from the title, I would. But...he's put himself into the Man of Steel Championship so much that I can't pull him back up without yanking it from his hands. He can't climb back up the ladder if he's clutching onto it so tightly."
"Yeah, keep saying that." Isaac nods, shaking his arms out. "But you know how this is gonna be seen. You gotta know. You've been doing this too long to not know." He walks over, patting Andrew on the shoulder. "You sure you gonna be alright?"
"No." Andrew replies, quietly. "No, I won't be alright. I have to hurt my friend to save him. I can hurt people I don't like, I can hurt people I hate, but...my friend? It's going to take everything I have."
Isaac nods, patting Andrew on the back again. "Tell you what, man. You want to be in a better place? Get your ass out of this ring. Go home. Spend some time with your girl. Stay safe. You wanna go in there with a clear head, don't lose yourself in this ring. We got lives beyond this business."
Andrew holds for a long moment before taking a deep breath, nodding slowly. He pushes him up off the ropes, exhaling slowly, and nods back to Isaac again. "...you're right. You're right. I...I have to go home. I...thank you." Isaac tosses a salute at Andrew, who steps between the ropes and drops to the floor. Andrew winces, twitching his neck briefly as he lands, and takes another long moment before walking out of the training area.
Isaac watches him go, leaning against the ropes as Andrew walks away, and he speaks under his breath, watching the receding figure of the North Star. "God bless...stay safe, brother." With that, Isaac walks over to the turnbuckle, grabbing the towel hanging there and beginning to wipe himself down as we fade to black.
But I can't cast you off now. I can't walk away without trying one last time, because that's the kind of messed-up I am. I can't just walk away and call you a lost cause. I can't stop until I know I've tried everything. This is my last shot at saving you from yourself. And yeah, Spike. I want to be the Man of Steel Champion. But I don't want to just be the Man of Steel. I want to be the North Star. I don't want to be the Steel Star, I don't want to be the Blood God or anything...I just want to be Andrew Jacobsen, dammit.
Spike, I see you hurting, and I don't know how to help you. I've tried to reach out. I've tried to fight you. And I've run out of ideas. I don't know where else to go with you, and I won't throw myself away after you. I have this one last chance, and then...Christ, I need to find another way. Maybe I'll chase the Invictus Title. Maybe I'll win the Roulette. Maybe my future doesn't hold titles. But I know this...this may be our final hand together, Spike, but I'm not folding until all the cards are on the table.
You were my friend. You still are, on some level. And that's what makes this so hard, but...it's also what makes this the most natural thing in the world. I walk into this hellscape without a second thought because I know the things that lie on the other side, the chance to be a champion again and the chance to bring a hero back from the brink, are both worth everything. And yeah, I'm still trying to save Warren. If I had known where to find him, I would have charged in to save him from Eternity the moment I could. I don't hate him for what happened, Spike, just like I don't hate you. I want to help you, man. I want you to be better.
And for you to get better, you have to relearn that the hardest part of being a champion, a true champion...is letting go.
I know I brought this on myself. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't know what I was doing. They say I'm walking into the ring with a madman, a completely remorseless psychopath. They say there's no humanity left to reach, that you've walled yourself behind a barricade of blood and steel that nobody can break. I know differently. I know the truth. You're still in there, Spike. The Spike Kane I once knew. The Spike Kane we used to be able to call friend, idol...brother. The Spike that fought his way into the Hall of Fame and into our hearts.
Do you know how I figured that out? That moment of hesitation when I called you out again. If you were really given over to this path of destruction that you say you're locked on, you would have accepted the chance to end another career in a heartbeat. But you demurred, because it's not about rage to you. It's not about grief. It's about gold. More accurately...it's about steel. You can't let go of the Man of Steel Championship, and you didn't want to take the chance that you wouldn't be able to drop me from the top of that cage with the Blood God's Wrath again.
But then I threw out the bait that was too tempting for you to refuse. Your match. Your rules. All or nothing. And yeah, the Board of Directors gave me a God of Steel Match when they denied you that stipulation. You know why? They want to see this end as much as I do, Spike, and they know that this is the only way to do it. You either need to put me six feet deep, or I need to do what I've set out to do, and that's free you...because your walls have become a prison.
You've trapped yourself in your own head, Spike. You have this...sick, obsessive need to prove yourself to be the best, the bloody God of Steel, and you're letting it consume everything else about you. You used to be so much more, and now all you see yourself as is a titleholder. Not a champion, not a Hall of Famer who holds a title...a titleholder. You've put so much of yourself into the Man of Steel Championship that you've turned into a shell of yourself. You may destroy everything in your path, Spike, but the time will come when you see nothing before you to conquer, you'll turn to look at the road that led you there...and you will look upon your works, Oh Lord, and you will despair.
And that's what I'm trying to save you from. I'm trying to break the grip you have on that title, or that it has on you, before you get so twisted by it and the thought of having it that you're not you anymore. That flicker on Sacrifice, that was all I needed to confirm it. You're still in there, Spike. Fight it. Fight, Spike, fight. You've always been a fighter. For your entire life, for the two decades and counting of your career, we've always been able to count on you to get back up and keep swinging...and for you to keep fighting, you're going to have to know when to stay down.
If you get back up, if you keep clinging onto that title, you surrender to it. If you let yourself stay the God of Steel, you throw away Spike Kane. I'm trying one last time to reach you, here and now...but if this doesn't work, if you refuse to let anything through the jail that this self-appointed sobriquet's locked you into, then I give up. If I can't bring you back with your own flesh and blood, if you're willing to give up your last. Begotten. Family...for the sake of being a "legend"...then you can stay in your personal hell, and I will let you burn.
Andrew climbs off the ring mat, sweat pouring from his forehead. He looks up as he clutches his shoulders, the dull, pounding ache of a long day's workout popping sharply as he unconsciously tenses his muscles and lets them fall slack again. Andrew's training partner for today, his frequent sparring partner and IWF developmental prospect Isaac Everett, is still flat on the canvas, clutching his back and groaning. Andrew shakes his head, walking over and offering him a hand up. Isaac barely makes it back to his feet, even with the assist, and staggers about on rubber legs. Andrew chuckles to himself, looking Isaac over. "What's wrong, Isaac? You're in insane shape, how are you dropping so soon?"
Isaac looks Andrew in the eyes, a disbelieving expression on his face, and shakes his head slowly. "Dude...you must be joking. We've been going for, like, an hour grappling, and you know that ain't my wheelhouse. Of course I'm gonna be worn down."
Andrew nods, taking a deep breath. "Okay, so we've been going at it pretty hard. I know you push your cardio. What's on your mind?"
Isaac shakes his head, leaning against the turnbuckles. "Andrew, you've been grinding yourself trying to get ready of this match. You been grinding me too, so don't say that you can take it, 'cause at this point I don't know if my ass can take it anymore. What are you hoping to get out of this? You're not going to be exchanging wristlocks with Spike, you're going to damn war."
Andrew puts his hands up, a brief look of resignation flashing across his face. "Look, I know. I know this isn't going to be a normal match, but what am I supposed to do? Go out and start bar fights? I need to be grounded. I need to be focused. And this is helping me get into a better place. I can't go in there carrying any hate."
Isaac chuckles, shaking his head. "You mean you've been taking out your hate on me? Andy, I feel so loved. So you've been purging your hate. What you gonna do, go into things with love and peace? It's Spike Kane, he ain't gonna lie down for a fruit basket. You gotta have some fire."
"I know." Andrew replies quickly, almost a little too quickly. "I know he is. I've wrestled him more times than you have, kid. But...I've tried to fight him with hate, and I never use hate well. It's not in my nature. I need to go into things looking to build, not to destroy. I'm building my regrowth, and I'm building Spike's sanity back up, brick by damned brick."
"That really what you're doing, though?" Isaac shakes his head again, rolling his wrists and forcing himself back out of the corner. "You sure you're not just using this opportunity to get another shot at the title? Seems like an easy angle. Play the sympathetic friend so you can get another shot at glory?"
"That's what Spike's said too." Andrew sighs, leaning against the ring ropes. "Look, if I could divorce things from the title, I would. But...he's put himself into the Man of Steel Championship so much that I can't pull him back up without yanking it from his hands. He can't climb back up the ladder if he's clutching onto it so tightly."
"Yeah, keep saying that." Isaac nods, shaking his arms out. "But you know how this is gonna be seen. You gotta know. You've been doing this too long to not know." He walks over, patting Andrew on the shoulder. "You sure you gonna be alright?"
"No." Andrew replies, quietly. "No, I won't be alright. I have to hurt my friend to save him. I can hurt people I don't like, I can hurt people I hate, but...my friend? It's going to take everything I have."
Isaac nods, patting Andrew on the back again. "Tell you what, man. You want to be in a better place? Get your ass out of this ring. Go home. Spend some time with your girl. Stay safe. You wanna go in there with a clear head, don't lose yourself in this ring. We got lives beyond this business."
Andrew holds for a long moment before taking a deep breath, nodding slowly. He pushes him up off the ropes, exhaling slowly, and nods back to Isaac again. "...you're right. You're right. I...I have to go home. I...thank you." Isaac tosses a salute at Andrew, who steps between the ropes and drops to the floor. Andrew winces, twitching his neck briefly as he lands, and takes another long moment before walking out of the training area.
Isaac watches him go, leaning against the ropes as Andrew walks away, and he speaks under his breath, watching the receding figure of the North Star. "God bless...stay safe, brother." With that, Isaac walks over to the turnbuckle, grabbing the towel hanging there and beginning to wipe himself down as we fade to black.
But I can't cast you off now. I can't walk away without trying one last time, because that's the kind of messed-up I am. I can't just walk away and call you a lost cause. I can't stop until I know I've tried everything. This is my last shot at saving you from yourself. And yeah, Spike. I want to be the Man of Steel Champion. But I don't want to just be the Man of Steel. I want to be the North Star. I don't want to be the Steel Star, I don't want to be the Blood God or anything...I just want to be Andrew Jacobsen, dammit.
Spike, I see you hurting, and I don't know how to help you. I've tried to reach out. I've tried to fight you. And I've run out of ideas. I don't know where else to go with you, and I won't throw myself away after you. I have this one last chance, and then...Christ, I need to find another way. Maybe I'll chase the Invictus Title. Maybe I'll win the Roulette. Maybe my future doesn't hold titles. But I know this...this may be our final hand together, Spike, but I'm not folding until all the cards are on the table.
You were my friend. You still are, on some level. And that's what makes this so hard, but...it's also what makes this the most natural thing in the world. I walk into this hellscape without a second thought because I know the things that lie on the other side, the chance to be a champion again and the chance to bring a hero back from the brink, are both worth everything. And yeah, I'm still trying to save Warren. If I had known where to find him, I would have charged in to save him from Eternity the moment I could. I don't hate him for what happened, Spike, just like I don't hate you. I want to help you, man. I want you to be better.
And for you to get better, you have to relearn that the hardest part of being a champion, a true champion...is letting go.
Well howdy there pardner.