Post by irobin on Aug 19, 2011 10:42:25 GMT -5
The scene opens with Jason Ambrose stood in front of a blank wall. He is dressed casually in a pair of denim jeans and a loose-fitting white sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He is sporting some designer stubble, but the most striking feature is the way that he is staring directly into the camera.
“Warrior, it’s time that you started taking me seriously.”
Jace stares down at the floor, takes a breath and then returns his steely gaze to the camera, and the viewer.
“That might sound strange, given the Hell that you’ve put me through, but all along this has seemed like some kind of game to you. Almost as if this was just entertainment to you. As if this was all just a bit of fun for when you’re bored. Even when we’ve fought, you haven’t shown me any respect, nor have you ever acknowledged my abilities as a competitor. I’m not asking you to, this isn’t some kind of desperate plea to be noticed, because I never expected you to show me any respect, but if you want to have any chance of beating me, and keeping your career going, then you had better start taking me seriously.
Your career is on the line and you still don’t seem to care. You haven’t been seen training, nor have you spoken to any reporters or anything, it’s as if you aren’t even interested in this match. Why is that? Are you bored now? Has this game that you created took a sour turn that you dislike? Is it because all of a sudden, you find yourself on the back foot? Your allies seem to be deserting you, Rivera now favours Roy as his chosen disciple over you, and, well, what do you have left? No friends, no family, it’s just you. Warrior. Warrior, and no-one else.
Maybe you prefer it that way, but I’ve heard the rumours. We all have. The ones that say that you want to retire and that you won’t even bother to show up for this one, disappearing quietly into the night instead. No fanfare, no fans, no big announcements, just one final vanishing act, so that you won’t have to be ashamed of losing this fight. So that you can claim you were never ‘retired’, simply that you chose to quit instead. Then you can come back again if you fancy it.
Once more, it’s as if it’s all just a game to you. The results don’t matter, the rules aren’t important and no-one remembers a match that never happened.”
Jace shakes his head slowly.
“Well, it’s too bad for you that I do remember. I remember our first direct encounter, on the Vengeance after Back 2 Roots. A match that was declared a ‘no contest’ due to double count out. A ‘no contest’ meaning not only that there was no result, but that the match itself never technically took place. It means that there was no contest between us on that night and that we never fought it out, and that’s how it is recorded in the history books. Of course, we did fight, we fought hard, I was still bandaged up, you were expecting an easy win and I surprised you by proving myself to be more than just a pretty face and a cocky smile. Then it ended up in a situation where you couldn’t win, so you took the easy way to preserve your pride by cancelling the match. Not literally, but that count out suited you well. No-one had won, you hadn’t lost to some rookie, that’s what it meant. People could debate the possible outcomes forever and it wouldn’t change the fact that a count out result preserved your dignity.
Will you do that again? Save yourself the shame of a loss by not actually competing? Take away my chance of being the man that retired Warrior? Take away my chance of proving once and for all, that I am better than you?”
Jace wags his finger back and forth in front of his face.
“Too bad.
I won’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen again.
You refused to take me seriously.
You worked to ruin my life, and the lives of those around me.
You sought to be my downfall.
And now you want to quit, because you don’t like the outcome?”
Jace squats down and leans straight into the camera now, a close up on his face, the sheer intensity of the fire in his eyes only now truly becoming apparent.
“Too bad.
Too fucking bad.
I’m here, I’m going nowhere and we will have a fight. Not a match, but a fight. We don’t need title belts, or stipulations, or even a ring, because we won’t use it. There will be no high flying acrobatics, or chain wrestling on the ground to impress the purists. I won’t be showing off by bench pressing your flabby gut, nor will we be showcasing a master class of technical reversals. This will be a straight up fight. Punches, kicks, elbows, knees… These will be our bread and butter when we meet. There will be blood and bruises and broken bones, and we will have our own war in the centre of the ring.”
Jace steps back, grabbing a bottle of water from the floor as he stands up in his original position.
“And if you don’t bother to show up?”
Jace takes a swig from the bottle.
“I’m going to track you down.”
Jace takes another swig and fastens the cap on the bottle, holding it as he speaks.
“You see, I was thinking about quitting too. May wanted me to get out whilst I still could, I didn’t listen to her. Should I have done? It’s hard to say, but I didn’t, and I sure as Hell won’t be quitting now. I have too much to do here yet, I have to prove to the doubters that I am capable of greatness, and that I’m not just some good looking guy with a body made of glass. You see, I haven’t won a “big” match before. I’ve never won a title, or even at a PPV, and I certainly haven’t won any matches that got the world talking, so it’s about time I changed that. You, Warrior, you will be my World Title. I’m going to make the world sit up and take notice. Make them see that Jason Ambrose has finally arrived, and he means business.
So, you can run, yes, but as the old saying goes, you can’t hide.”
Jace takes another swig, fastening the cap tightly and dropping the bottle to the floor.
“I wasn’t on your radar, but you’re firmly in my sights.
You see, Warrior, I’m going to make you suffer. I’m going to beat you into a bloody pulp and as you crawl across the ring, begging me to end it, I’ll refuse. It’s a good job that this isn’t an I Quit match, because that gives you a chance at ending things. You seem to lead a shadowy existence, staying away from the media and the press, you seem to be the guy that lurks around the corner waiting for an ambush. Basically, Warrior, you live in the dark.
Now I’m not so ridiculous as to suggest that I am the light. This ongoing war between us has proven that I am by no means the embodiment of light and purity that some might think I would claim to be. You drove me to that same darkness, and I stooped to your level and showed you just what I’m really capable of, if pushed to my limit. However, there is one problem for you now, because whilst you live in that darkness, believing that it will shroud you and protect you, I have embraced it too. Not to the same extent, but I willingly stepped into it myself, and it has given me one benefit for doing so.”
Jace takes a moment, sighing heavily, and returning to the camera, his stare less intimidating or fiery now, more a gaze of loss, his eyes decidedly empty.
“You live in the dark, Warrior. It is your best defence, it is your ally.
The problem is that I can see in the dark. I see you. I do not see any aura of strength, or power, or intimidation, I just see you. In fact, amidst the darkness, you are the only thing I can see.
And do you understand what that means? It means that you cannot escape. Run if you want to, but I won’t lose sight of you, and I will find you with precision accuracy, and when I do, I will be the one to see you fall. I don’t need an audience, or a referee, or bright lights or any of this to do what I need to do. All I need are my fists.”
Jace lifts his hands in front of his face and clenches them tightly, his forearms bulging as he stares at the two fists.
“And I have them.”
Jace lets his arms return to his sides as he looks back into the camera.
“There will be no accidents, no mistakes… Just pain. Something that you claim to have in-depth knowledge of. Do you draw your strength from the pain of others? Is that what this all comes down to? Each time we’ve fought, has my own physical and emotional pain caused the blood to pulse through your veins? Were May’s screams and protests the source of your greatest power? The cry of an innocent woman in pain? Is that why you don’t want to fight me now?
Is it because I’m not afraid of you any more? Is it that I won’t react to your attacks with winces of pain and screams of agony? Have you lost your power? In truth, you spent weeks… Months… Lurking around each corner, hiding in each dark alley, ready to attack me, for no given reason. Now I see that you are the archetypal bully, living off of intimidation and reputation, rather than anything more substantial. Did you target me on a whim, and then feed off of my own apprehensions and worries? Did my fear of what you might do to May feed your desire? Or was it my own weakness that fed you?
Have I created this nightmare myself by giving you what you wanted each time I reacted? I see now that since I took the initiative and attacked you, you have been far quieter, in fact, other than during our match on the last Vengeance, I haven’t seen you anywhere. I finally understand what happened here, I see that I made you this… Unstoppable monster… By painting you as such in my own mind, and by listening to those others that said the same. In reality, you’re alone and you have little to offer. This match will be bloody and brutal, the likes of Mr. Luck might need to wave a chair around to draw blood, but you and I are capable of doing such things on our own, without the need for such weapons.
So, Warrior, take me seriously. Come down to the ring, and fight me as an equal… As a man. In all of your career, have you ever done the “right thing”? It seems that enough times, you have done what was right for you; you have sought out every possible advantage and taken it, but have you ever actually stood up straight and been a man? Perhaps, as commissioner in the distant past, you were, and maybe you worked hard and treated people fairly, but I don’t know. I wasn’t around then, but I can’t see you having changed so greatly since then. You strike me as being an opportunist, the sort that always looks for a weakened opponent, or a chance to sneak in and cause havoc when no-one is really watching.
I’m calling for you to stand tall and face me, one on one, and to not just show me some respect, but to show yourself some too. This is the last night of your career, there will not be another pay-per-view for Warrior, so make this one count. Stand tall, act with dignity and leave yourself something to be remembered. Something to be proud of. Rather than ending an illustrious career like yours on a feeble event to beat a newcomer by cheating your way to victory. Even if you refuse to acknowledge me, then do it for your own career, and leave with your pride intact that you gave it your all in a fair fight, rather than losing because you resorted to chair shots or low blows.”
Jace picks the bottle back up, taking another swig, a few slight beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead, he re-caps the bottle and returns his gaze on the camera.
“Warrior, I know a bit about loss, I know how it feels to come close to winning and then have it snatched away at the last second, and I know what it is to lose friends… Lovers. I don’t claim to know how it feels to lose a child, but over the last few months, you have taken the most important person in my life. Now, it may be the case that I drove her away myself in the end, but it’s clear to see that you had a hand in it. You sowed the seeds, even if I was the one to finally reap their unholy produce. And we both know that you enjoyed seeing it, would you claim it as your own handiwork even if it wasn’t, simply because you enjoyed every minute of it? I wouldn’t put it past you.
In truth, I thought I had lost everything, but I have come to see that I still have plenty going for me, that whilst my brief moment of darkness may have cost me dearly, it did not take all that I had.
Unfortunately, it seems that the darkness took everything from you. What do you have left now? All you have is your career, and your legacy. You were inducted into the Hall of Fame whilst still an active competitor, that in itself is quite an achievement, and you have a number of title reigns under your belt, along with an impressive unbeaten streak. So allow me to ask the same question that everyone has been asking for months now… What happened? How did the once-great Warrior end up wallowing in mediocrity like this? You’ve dragged out your career too far and now your achievements are being tarnished by the memories of an old man struggling to cling to his glory days, despite being long past his best, and long past capable.
So maybe I’ll do you a favour here. Maybe you haven’t watered down your own legacy too much by keeping it on life support for one last run, so that when I retire you, people will remember you more for what you did in the past, and less for what you couldn’t do in the present. Like beat me. You may have beaten May into submitting, but we both know that I wasn’t at my best for that match, I was distracted, to say the least. As it is, you removed those distractions one by one, so that now, I can face you at full strength, and with only one thing on my mind – beating you.”
Once more, Jace steps towards the camera, squatting down and staring into it, the emptiness in his eyes being replaced by a look of iron-clad determination.
“So, run, Warrior, run and cling to what little strength there is left in your ancient body. You will need it, because if you step into the ring with me, I will put an end to this charade now.”
Jace nods.
“Yes, Warrior, a charade. This isn’t a game, and the rules have certainly changed.
So take me seriously, and take this match seriously, because unlike a game, you don’t get a re-roll if you’re unhappy with the results. You don’t even get a blank screen with the words “Game Over” written on it. You just get a feeling of emptiness.
Although I suspect you already know that…”
Jace steps back as the fade cuts out to black.
“Warrior, it’s time that you started taking me seriously.”
Jace stares down at the floor, takes a breath and then returns his steely gaze to the camera, and the viewer.
“That might sound strange, given the Hell that you’ve put me through, but all along this has seemed like some kind of game to you. Almost as if this was just entertainment to you. As if this was all just a bit of fun for when you’re bored. Even when we’ve fought, you haven’t shown me any respect, nor have you ever acknowledged my abilities as a competitor. I’m not asking you to, this isn’t some kind of desperate plea to be noticed, because I never expected you to show me any respect, but if you want to have any chance of beating me, and keeping your career going, then you had better start taking me seriously.
Your career is on the line and you still don’t seem to care. You haven’t been seen training, nor have you spoken to any reporters or anything, it’s as if you aren’t even interested in this match. Why is that? Are you bored now? Has this game that you created took a sour turn that you dislike? Is it because all of a sudden, you find yourself on the back foot? Your allies seem to be deserting you, Rivera now favours Roy as his chosen disciple over you, and, well, what do you have left? No friends, no family, it’s just you. Warrior. Warrior, and no-one else.
Maybe you prefer it that way, but I’ve heard the rumours. We all have. The ones that say that you want to retire and that you won’t even bother to show up for this one, disappearing quietly into the night instead. No fanfare, no fans, no big announcements, just one final vanishing act, so that you won’t have to be ashamed of losing this fight. So that you can claim you were never ‘retired’, simply that you chose to quit instead. Then you can come back again if you fancy it.
Once more, it’s as if it’s all just a game to you. The results don’t matter, the rules aren’t important and no-one remembers a match that never happened.”
Jace shakes his head slowly.
“Well, it’s too bad for you that I do remember. I remember our first direct encounter, on the Vengeance after Back 2 Roots. A match that was declared a ‘no contest’ due to double count out. A ‘no contest’ meaning not only that there was no result, but that the match itself never technically took place. It means that there was no contest between us on that night and that we never fought it out, and that’s how it is recorded in the history books. Of course, we did fight, we fought hard, I was still bandaged up, you were expecting an easy win and I surprised you by proving myself to be more than just a pretty face and a cocky smile. Then it ended up in a situation where you couldn’t win, so you took the easy way to preserve your pride by cancelling the match. Not literally, but that count out suited you well. No-one had won, you hadn’t lost to some rookie, that’s what it meant. People could debate the possible outcomes forever and it wouldn’t change the fact that a count out result preserved your dignity.
Will you do that again? Save yourself the shame of a loss by not actually competing? Take away my chance of being the man that retired Warrior? Take away my chance of proving once and for all, that I am better than you?”
Jace wags his finger back and forth in front of his face.
“Too bad.
I won’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen again.
You refused to take me seriously.
You worked to ruin my life, and the lives of those around me.
You sought to be my downfall.
And now you want to quit, because you don’t like the outcome?”
Jace squats down and leans straight into the camera now, a close up on his face, the sheer intensity of the fire in his eyes only now truly becoming apparent.
“Too bad.
Too fucking bad.
I’m here, I’m going nowhere and we will have a fight. Not a match, but a fight. We don’t need title belts, or stipulations, or even a ring, because we won’t use it. There will be no high flying acrobatics, or chain wrestling on the ground to impress the purists. I won’t be showing off by bench pressing your flabby gut, nor will we be showcasing a master class of technical reversals. This will be a straight up fight. Punches, kicks, elbows, knees… These will be our bread and butter when we meet. There will be blood and bruises and broken bones, and we will have our own war in the centre of the ring.”
Jace steps back, grabbing a bottle of water from the floor as he stands up in his original position.
“And if you don’t bother to show up?”
Jace takes a swig from the bottle.
“I’m going to track you down.”
Jace takes another swig and fastens the cap on the bottle, holding it as he speaks.
“You see, I was thinking about quitting too. May wanted me to get out whilst I still could, I didn’t listen to her. Should I have done? It’s hard to say, but I didn’t, and I sure as Hell won’t be quitting now. I have too much to do here yet, I have to prove to the doubters that I am capable of greatness, and that I’m not just some good looking guy with a body made of glass. You see, I haven’t won a “big” match before. I’ve never won a title, or even at a PPV, and I certainly haven’t won any matches that got the world talking, so it’s about time I changed that. You, Warrior, you will be my World Title. I’m going to make the world sit up and take notice. Make them see that Jason Ambrose has finally arrived, and he means business.
So, you can run, yes, but as the old saying goes, you can’t hide.”
Jace takes another swig, fastening the cap tightly and dropping the bottle to the floor.
“I wasn’t on your radar, but you’re firmly in my sights.
You see, Warrior, I’m going to make you suffer. I’m going to beat you into a bloody pulp and as you crawl across the ring, begging me to end it, I’ll refuse. It’s a good job that this isn’t an I Quit match, because that gives you a chance at ending things. You seem to lead a shadowy existence, staying away from the media and the press, you seem to be the guy that lurks around the corner waiting for an ambush. Basically, Warrior, you live in the dark.
Now I’m not so ridiculous as to suggest that I am the light. This ongoing war between us has proven that I am by no means the embodiment of light and purity that some might think I would claim to be. You drove me to that same darkness, and I stooped to your level and showed you just what I’m really capable of, if pushed to my limit. However, there is one problem for you now, because whilst you live in that darkness, believing that it will shroud you and protect you, I have embraced it too. Not to the same extent, but I willingly stepped into it myself, and it has given me one benefit for doing so.”
Jace takes a moment, sighing heavily, and returning to the camera, his stare less intimidating or fiery now, more a gaze of loss, his eyes decidedly empty.
“You live in the dark, Warrior. It is your best defence, it is your ally.
The problem is that I can see in the dark. I see you. I do not see any aura of strength, or power, or intimidation, I just see you. In fact, amidst the darkness, you are the only thing I can see.
And do you understand what that means? It means that you cannot escape. Run if you want to, but I won’t lose sight of you, and I will find you with precision accuracy, and when I do, I will be the one to see you fall. I don’t need an audience, or a referee, or bright lights or any of this to do what I need to do. All I need are my fists.”
Jace lifts his hands in front of his face and clenches them tightly, his forearms bulging as he stares at the two fists.
“And I have them.”
Jace lets his arms return to his sides as he looks back into the camera.
“There will be no accidents, no mistakes… Just pain. Something that you claim to have in-depth knowledge of. Do you draw your strength from the pain of others? Is that what this all comes down to? Each time we’ve fought, has my own physical and emotional pain caused the blood to pulse through your veins? Were May’s screams and protests the source of your greatest power? The cry of an innocent woman in pain? Is that why you don’t want to fight me now?
Is it because I’m not afraid of you any more? Is it that I won’t react to your attacks with winces of pain and screams of agony? Have you lost your power? In truth, you spent weeks… Months… Lurking around each corner, hiding in each dark alley, ready to attack me, for no given reason. Now I see that you are the archetypal bully, living off of intimidation and reputation, rather than anything more substantial. Did you target me on a whim, and then feed off of my own apprehensions and worries? Did my fear of what you might do to May feed your desire? Or was it my own weakness that fed you?
Have I created this nightmare myself by giving you what you wanted each time I reacted? I see now that since I took the initiative and attacked you, you have been far quieter, in fact, other than during our match on the last Vengeance, I haven’t seen you anywhere. I finally understand what happened here, I see that I made you this… Unstoppable monster… By painting you as such in my own mind, and by listening to those others that said the same. In reality, you’re alone and you have little to offer. This match will be bloody and brutal, the likes of Mr. Luck might need to wave a chair around to draw blood, but you and I are capable of doing such things on our own, without the need for such weapons.
So, Warrior, take me seriously. Come down to the ring, and fight me as an equal… As a man. In all of your career, have you ever done the “right thing”? It seems that enough times, you have done what was right for you; you have sought out every possible advantage and taken it, but have you ever actually stood up straight and been a man? Perhaps, as commissioner in the distant past, you were, and maybe you worked hard and treated people fairly, but I don’t know. I wasn’t around then, but I can’t see you having changed so greatly since then. You strike me as being an opportunist, the sort that always looks for a weakened opponent, or a chance to sneak in and cause havoc when no-one is really watching.
I’m calling for you to stand tall and face me, one on one, and to not just show me some respect, but to show yourself some too. This is the last night of your career, there will not be another pay-per-view for Warrior, so make this one count. Stand tall, act with dignity and leave yourself something to be remembered. Something to be proud of. Rather than ending an illustrious career like yours on a feeble event to beat a newcomer by cheating your way to victory. Even if you refuse to acknowledge me, then do it for your own career, and leave with your pride intact that you gave it your all in a fair fight, rather than losing because you resorted to chair shots or low blows.”
Jace picks the bottle back up, taking another swig, a few slight beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead, he re-caps the bottle and returns his gaze on the camera.
“Warrior, I know a bit about loss, I know how it feels to come close to winning and then have it snatched away at the last second, and I know what it is to lose friends… Lovers. I don’t claim to know how it feels to lose a child, but over the last few months, you have taken the most important person in my life. Now, it may be the case that I drove her away myself in the end, but it’s clear to see that you had a hand in it. You sowed the seeds, even if I was the one to finally reap their unholy produce. And we both know that you enjoyed seeing it, would you claim it as your own handiwork even if it wasn’t, simply because you enjoyed every minute of it? I wouldn’t put it past you.
In truth, I thought I had lost everything, but I have come to see that I still have plenty going for me, that whilst my brief moment of darkness may have cost me dearly, it did not take all that I had.
Unfortunately, it seems that the darkness took everything from you. What do you have left now? All you have is your career, and your legacy. You were inducted into the Hall of Fame whilst still an active competitor, that in itself is quite an achievement, and you have a number of title reigns under your belt, along with an impressive unbeaten streak. So allow me to ask the same question that everyone has been asking for months now… What happened? How did the once-great Warrior end up wallowing in mediocrity like this? You’ve dragged out your career too far and now your achievements are being tarnished by the memories of an old man struggling to cling to his glory days, despite being long past his best, and long past capable.
So maybe I’ll do you a favour here. Maybe you haven’t watered down your own legacy too much by keeping it on life support for one last run, so that when I retire you, people will remember you more for what you did in the past, and less for what you couldn’t do in the present. Like beat me. You may have beaten May into submitting, but we both know that I wasn’t at my best for that match, I was distracted, to say the least. As it is, you removed those distractions one by one, so that now, I can face you at full strength, and with only one thing on my mind – beating you.”
Once more, Jace steps towards the camera, squatting down and staring into it, the emptiness in his eyes being replaced by a look of iron-clad determination.
“So, run, Warrior, run and cling to what little strength there is left in your ancient body. You will need it, because if you step into the ring with me, I will put an end to this charade now.”
Jace nods.
“Yes, Warrior, a charade. This isn’t a game, and the rules have certainly changed.
So take me seriously, and take this match seriously, because unlike a game, you don’t get a re-roll if you’re unhappy with the results. You don’t even get a blank screen with the words “Game Over” written on it. You just get a feeling of emptiness.
Although I suspect you already know that…”
Jace steps back as the fade cuts out to black.