Post by Ace Anderson on Sept 5, 2012 20:43:06 GMT -5
The lights in PCW arena go dim. With volume swelling, the opening riff of Disturbed’s “Pain Redefined” echoes off the walls. The PCW Faithful in attendance for the Wednesday night house show following Tuesday’s Trauma begin a battle of boos, jeers, and cries of surprise. Some know what to expect, some have only heard. As the tempo rises, the PCW-tron flashes alive with a high-speed sequence of dusty footage: a ghost of PCW’s past both near and distant delivering his finishing maneuver, the Exemplifier, to many of PCW’s competitors—some gone, and some who still remain. The lyrics begin, and Ace Anderson himself appears at the top of the ramp. He’s dressed to wrestle, in his straight-laced black boots and trunks, strapped for war. His head is still shaved to the scalp, and his freshest scars, not yet two years old, seem to stand out more than his full black beard.
Though obviously aging, he looks near yet not quite as fit as he was in his hay-day. The appearance of his large form swells the volume of the crowd, now competing with the heavy bridge of his theme music. He walks to the ring to two choruses, of “Pain Redefined” and of the crowd. The video at his back displays short clip memories of both hard-earned victories and soul-crushing defeats: pinning Loki, and raising the North American Championship; draping his arm across Slither in a pile of splinters to win his first World Championship; his battles with HHW; losing the World Championship to Lantlas; his attempt to regain it, and his failure; his feud with Al Laiman, and their near-fatal battle in Laiman’s Hardcore Hell Match; his return from retirement, more vicious than ever, handcuffing Lantlas and Grimm to a rising cage, leaving them suspended; coming as close as ever before but losing to Lantlas once more, the World Championship once again eluding him; his second return, and his battles with Mike Park; the chair shot first from Jason Scene and then the steel chair assaults of Thrillion Man March that seemed to cap his PCW career.
Yet Ace Anderson has returned. He climbs into the ring, calling for a microphone; few could believe he would return, some hardly knew who he was, but not long after the music cuts, the cries and shouts from the crowd turn to silence. Every fan in PCW arena, and surely a few PCW superstars as well, wait to hear what he has to say.
“The last time I walked into PCW arena, I left with cuts and bruises, having proved nothing. I was foolish, thinking that because I’ve felt and dealt so much pain, once commanded so much fear and respect, I was invincible. I was nothing but unprepared. The bitter truth is, I thought my fame was enough fuel to propel me once more to the top of this federation. A veteran making an amateur’s mistake, beset on the fool’s errand; I ensured victories but found only defeats. I promised to deliver pain, but only received it.
“I couldn’t advance in the tournament I myself had marked when I became the first ever Icemann Invitational winner—the apparent beginning of ‘Greatness’ as you knew him. I couldn’t fulfill my promise to punish Nacho Grande. In fact, he and the Thrillion Man March punished me—the apparent end of Greatness. Though the old pride of Ace Anderson would never admit it, the Ace Anderson before you is proud to say that Nacho Grande taught me a much-needed lesson. And so I stand in this ring before you as a man ready to swallow that old pride in order to prove that I can still spit fire.
“When I returned for PCW’s re-awakening, that old pride was in full swing. It, like PCW, had also risen from a deep sleep. I thought I’d dust off my gear without polishing my skills and find myself undoubtedly at the top of the pecking order. I’ve been arrogant for most of my career, but all I managed to prove a year and a half ago was my ignorance of what it takes to be a Pure Class competitor. I promised Greatness, still considered myself Beyond Greatness, beyond what I once was and thought I could still be. Yet I only embarrassed myself and my legacy—I added rust to my name, and my legend, though still intact, has begun to tarnish.
“So here I stand, though I will not posture. Here I speak, though I will not promise. Once upon a time I would have claimed to become the PCW World Champion once more, quick and easy, as if it were given. I would assure you all, as vehemently as I could muster, that I would destroy everyone to cross my path. But now, nothing is—nor will it be—given. Nobody here will hand Ace Anderson a PCW Championship or even a single victory without a fight for his life.
“But this time, I’ve come not only ready, but waiting for that fight. I’ve come looking for it, and I have no doubt I’ll find it. I don’t know who it will be, I don’t know when it will be, and at this point, I don’t care what it’s for. Because in the end, I’m now fighting for something more important than gold or glory—I’m fighting for proof. Proof for myself and for another, to show that while I may have wandered far from home in the pursuit of self-proclaimed greatness and a path marked by pain, I haven’t laid down to die.
“After recovering from the injuries many thought would end my career, I truly went back to work. I may be getting old, but I’ve spent the last year and half training for this moment and the ones to follow, training as hard as I ever have, and still I can’t ensure that I’ll defeat any man on this roster. As soon as I believe I’ve worked harder than any of you, that old pride, that ruthless arrogance, has already returned.
“I was once convinced that my arrogance was my strength, but I was wrong. My strength had only ever been my dedication to this sport and my determination to be the Greatest it has ever witnessed. And so the only posture I can take, the only promise I can make, is that we’ll all discover just how far my will can take me. Sean Hunter once made me realize that I had to change the game to find my way—now I understand it’s once again time for Ace Anderson to redefine himself.”
He pauses, holds the microphone as if prepared to say more, but knows he has said enough. He drops it to the mat and looks out at PCW’s Faithful, soaking in the shower of familiar boos, the few welcome cheers, and what could even be a very slight round of applause. “Pain Redefined” once more fills the arena as Ace Anderson walks to the back, disappearing behind the curtain.
Though obviously aging, he looks near yet not quite as fit as he was in his hay-day. The appearance of his large form swells the volume of the crowd, now competing with the heavy bridge of his theme music. He walks to the ring to two choruses, of “Pain Redefined” and of the crowd. The video at his back displays short clip memories of both hard-earned victories and soul-crushing defeats: pinning Loki, and raising the North American Championship; draping his arm across Slither in a pile of splinters to win his first World Championship; his battles with HHW; losing the World Championship to Lantlas; his attempt to regain it, and his failure; his feud with Al Laiman, and their near-fatal battle in Laiman’s Hardcore Hell Match; his return from retirement, more vicious than ever, handcuffing Lantlas and Grimm to a rising cage, leaving them suspended; coming as close as ever before but losing to Lantlas once more, the World Championship once again eluding him; his second return, and his battles with Mike Park; the chair shot first from Jason Scene and then the steel chair assaults of Thrillion Man March that seemed to cap his PCW career.
Yet Ace Anderson has returned. He climbs into the ring, calling for a microphone; few could believe he would return, some hardly knew who he was, but not long after the music cuts, the cries and shouts from the crowd turn to silence. Every fan in PCW arena, and surely a few PCW superstars as well, wait to hear what he has to say.
“The last time I walked into PCW arena, I left with cuts and bruises, having proved nothing. I was foolish, thinking that because I’ve felt and dealt so much pain, once commanded so much fear and respect, I was invincible. I was nothing but unprepared. The bitter truth is, I thought my fame was enough fuel to propel me once more to the top of this federation. A veteran making an amateur’s mistake, beset on the fool’s errand; I ensured victories but found only defeats. I promised to deliver pain, but only received it.
“I couldn’t advance in the tournament I myself had marked when I became the first ever Icemann Invitational winner—the apparent beginning of ‘Greatness’ as you knew him. I couldn’t fulfill my promise to punish Nacho Grande. In fact, he and the Thrillion Man March punished me—the apparent end of Greatness. Though the old pride of Ace Anderson would never admit it, the Ace Anderson before you is proud to say that Nacho Grande taught me a much-needed lesson. And so I stand in this ring before you as a man ready to swallow that old pride in order to prove that I can still spit fire.
“When I returned for PCW’s re-awakening, that old pride was in full swing. It, like PCW, had also risen from a deep sleep. I thought I’d dust off my gear without polishing my skills and find myself undoubtedly at the top of the pecking order. I’ve been arrogant for most of my career, but all I managed to prove a year and a half ago was my ignorance of what it takes to be a Pure Class competitor. I promised Greatness, still considered myself Beyond Greatness, beyond what I once was and thought I could still be. Yet I only embarrassed myself and my legacy—I added rust to my name, and my legend, though still intact, has begun to tarnish.
“So here I stand, though I will not posture. Here I speak, though I will not promise. Once upon a time I would have claimed to become the PCW World Champion once more, quick and easy, as if it were given. I would assure you all, as vehemently as I could muster, that I would destroy everyone to cross my path. But now, nothing is—nor will it be—given. Nobody here will hand Ace Anderson a PCW Championship or even a single victory without a fight for his life.
“But this time, I’ve come not only ready, but waiting for that fight. I’ve come looking for it, and I have no doubt I’ll find it. I don’t know who it will be, I don’t know when it will be, and at this point, I don’t care what it’s for. Because in the end, I’m now fighting for something more important than gold or glory—I’m fighting for proof. Proof for myself and for another, to show that while I may have wandered far from home in the pursuit of self-proclaimed greatness and a path marked by pain, I haven’t laid down to die.
“After recovering from the injuries many thought would end my career, I truly went back to work. I may be getting old, but I’ve spent the last year and half training for this moment and the ones to follow, training as hard as I ever have, and still I can’t ensure that I’ll defeat any man on this roster. As soon as I believe I’ve worked harder than any of you, that old pride, that ruthless arrogance, has already returned.
“I was once convinced that my arrogance was my strength, but I was wrong. My strength had only ever been my dedication to this sport and my determination to be the Greatest it has ever witnessed. And so the only posture I can take, the only promise I can make, is that we’ll all discover just how far my will can take me. Sean Hunter once made me realize that I had to change the game to find my way—now I understand it’s once again time for Ace Anderson to redefine himself.”
He pauses, holds the microphone as if prepared to say more, but knows he has said enough. He drops it to the mat and looks out at PCW’s Faithful, soaking in the shower of familiar boos, the few welcome cheers, and what could even be a very slight round of applause. “Pain Redefined” once more fills the arena as Ace Anderson walks to the back, disappearing behind the curtain.
