Post by Ace Anderson on Apr 17, 2006 17:34:58 GMT -5
**OOC Note: The following roleplay takes place on April 14, 2006**
I’ve been out here for what seems like an eternity. It has really only been a few hours, but it seems like forever. It seems like I’ve done a million pushups, a billion sit ups, and jumped rope for days on end. How I’m not tired would remain a mystery to the world. I have to be ready for Geno. I have to be in the best shape of my life for any match, no matter who the opponent is. Preparation is sixty percent of the battle. Whoever is more ready for the match, has a good chance of winning the match. Anything can happen while you’re in that ring, but if you’re ready for anything, if you’re ready to be pushed to the limit, then you have a good chance of surpassing that limit. Whatever the limit happens to be. As if it was some eerie fate, the music playing in the barn couldn’t be more fitting. This seems to happen to me a lot.
Push it to the limit
Walk along the razor's edge
but don't look down, just keep your head
and you'll be finished
I know what that’s like, to walk along the razor’s edge. I’ve been there. Against David Van Dam. Against Grimm. Against The Prophet. Now, in just two days, I may have to walk along that edge once more against Geno. He is Mr. HHW, after all. That may not mean anything to me, but I’m sure it means something to somebody. That’s why I’m going to have to be prepared. I may not fear Geno, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give him credit. I gotta keep my head on straight, no my objective. Not let Al Laiman distract me into losing the match, that’s what he would want.
Hit the wheel and double the stakes
throttle wide open like a bat out of hell
and you crash the gates
(crash the gates)
It makes me think of when I started here in PCW. I had no idea what to expect of the competition, and they had no idea what to expect of me. It didn’t take long before I opened up the throttle and charged the gates, that being the top tier talent in this business. I charged like a demon, no regard, and ended up at the top. I haven’t let up since then. In my mind I’ve gone a bit soft, but it’s not hard to change that. Not hard at all.
Going for the back of beyond
Nothing gonna stop you
there's nothing that strong
So close now you're nearly at the brink
so, push it
I’ve been to the limit before. Or so I think. I don’t know, it could be greater than I anticipated. I don’t actually know how far I can go, but I do want to find out. That way I know what I have to pass next. In my mind there is only one limit, and that’s the sky. I’m not even close to the sky, not yet. There is so much farther to go. I’d hate to think that I’ve been to my own personal limit, because then I’d have nothing to strive for. Nothing’s going to stop me, there’s nothing strong enough. I’ve just got to keep on pushing myself, that’s what I’m doing here. I’m pushing it.
Welcome to the limit
(The limit)
Take it maybe one step more
The power game's still playing so
you better win it
Once I get there what will happen? Will it really be over? Will I win the battle against myself, to be the best that I can be, even for a split second? What will it feel like? Could it match winning the PCW World Title? Could it match defeating David Van Dam when people felt I couldn’t? Would it match winning the Icemann Invitational, as the underdog? The man nobody thought would make it past Sean Hunter? He was the top dog. Now I’m the top dog in the business. Geno thinks otherwise, Laiman thinks otherwise, the term “paper champion” is being thrown around. Well if I’m a paper champion, I’m not sure what my opponents have been, the ones that I’ve decimated. That isn’t saying much for Pure Class Wrestling, not at all. So many questions, no answers, yet. Maybe I’ll reach the limit at Hostile Takeover. Maybe next time I can take it one more step. Who knows. Eventually there will have to be nowhere to go, that’s for certain, and by that time, I’ll have defeated everyone, wiped out everything in my path.
Push it to the limit
(The limit)
With no one left to stand in your way
you might get careless, but you'll never be safe
while you still feel it
Careless? Me? Pfft. Ace Anderson doesn’t get careless. Jason might get careless, but when it comes to the ring Jason doesn’t exist. It’s only Ace Anderson, feeling the hatred pump through his veins, hating back just as much. The crowd is the fuel that runs the motor. The doubt is the power that turns the crank, that pushes me toward this limit. Sometimes I get there, sometimes I don’t. It all depends on if I have to. If I reach the limit, and then I still need to go farther, will I be able to? Of course I’ll be able to. I’m Ace god-damn Anderson, the man who would spit in the face of Jesus Christ, the man who would make fat jokes at Buddha, the man who would look God himself in the eye and tell him he sucks. Limit my ass. There is no limit to the power of Greatness in the Flesh. The sky can fuck itself. The limit can fuck itself. Ace Anderson goes until there is nothing left but total chaos. Nothing left but Ace Anderson in the middle of the ring, laughing at the foolishness of the rest of the world.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I finish another set of pushups. I jump to my feet, and I get into my personal ring. I start running off the ropes. Back and forth. Going faster and faster. I eventually start to slow down until I come to a stop in the middle of the ring. I drop down to my knees, and take in a deep breath. Geno thinks he’s clever. I saw his promo. His “masterpiece” theater. What’s this asshole trying to prove? Nothing, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe I should tell him exactly what I think of his little masterpiece. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I climb out of the ring and grab the camera that I had sitting on a table off to the side, just in case something struck me to tape a promo. Something usually comes to mind when I’m out here. Pay dirt once again.
I set the camera up on the turnbuckle, and turn it on. I walk to the other side of the ring, so I’ll be in view of the camera.
“Geno, I saw your little promo. Masterpiece theater? How cute. You must think you’re so creative. You and your buddy Neo Anderson, talking like retards wearing robes and smoking pipes. Haven’t you prepared for your meeting with Ace Anderson? Or is Mr. HHW too good for Greatness in the Flesh. Legend in the making. Fuck you, Geno. At Hostile Takeover you’ll feel the wrath of a true legend in the making, and you’ll feel yourself slowly breaking until there is nothing left for you but pain, and a three second meeting between your shoulders and the mat. Maybe even a five second meeting. Could Ace Anderson be that cocky, and request a five count? You bet your ass he could. Humiliating you is right next to the top of the list, Geno, right under beating you to a pulp. A big, retarded, over-confident pulp. You truly are going to meet your breaker Geno. You are the one and the only, everyone else is a toy? Just try to play with Ace Anderson, Geno. It’s like playing with fire. Or bombs. Or a loaded gun. You’re going to get hurt, or worse, killed.” I end off that little spit on a hard note, as I walk across the ring and shut off the camera. I’ll send that in later. Right now, I have to get back to my training. Number one priority, right there.
As I get down to start another set of sit ups, I hear my phone ring.
“Who the fuck could that be?” I ask myself aloud. I walk over to my phone, and I answer it. “Hello?” I say, sounding annoyed.
“Hey, is this Jason? Did I call at a bad time?” the voice on the other end was sweet. It took me a second to clue in. Katelyn.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I say, my voice instantly changing to a soft tone, as opposed to the gruff and slightly angered tone I answered with.
“Nothing...I just decided to call you since you gave me your number and all...but you don’t sound too pleased.” she says back. Hopefully I didn’t scare her or some shit.
“Well, I’m just working out. Getting ready for my match at Hostile Takeover.” I tell her. I haven’t had much chance to work out or watch tapes or anything. Been busy with other things. Now is the best time I have.
“Oh, well I was just wondering if you’d like to go out for some coffee or something...the only thing is we’d have to go soon because I have places to be tonight.” she tells me. What to say? I need this time. I need to get ready. I make my decision.
“Sorry, gotta keep getting ready for this match. Maybe some other time, though. Good bye.” I say, half wanting to kick myself in the ass.
Her voice is the sound of sheer disappointment. “Oh, alright then. Maybe I’ll call some other time. Good bye, and good luck.” I hang up the phone, throw it off to the side, and get down on my back for some sit ups. After this, I’ll go inside and watch some HHW tapes of Geno’s old matches. One thing, however, is for certain.
Some things, never change.
The lyrics used were taken from the theme to the movie "Scarface."
I’ve been out here for what seems like an eternity. It has really only been a few hours, but it seems like forever. It seems like I’ve done a million pushups, a billion sit ups, and jumped rope for days on end. How I’m not tired would remain a mystery to the world. I have to be ready for Geno. I have to be in the best shape of my life for any match, no matter who the opponent is. Preparation is sixty percent of the battle. Whoever is more ready for the match, has a good chance of winning the match. Anything can happen while you’re in that ring, but if you’re ready for anything, if you’re ready to be pushed to the limit, then you have a good chance of surpassing that limit. Whatever the limit happens to be. As if it was some eerie fate, the music playing in the barn couldn’t be more fitting. This seems to happen to me a lot.
Push it to the limit
Walk along the razor's edge
but don't look down, just keep your head
and you'll be finished
I know what that’s like, to walk along the razor’s edge. I’ve been there. Against David Van Dam. Against Grimm. Against The Prophet. Now, in just two days, I may have to walk along that edge once more against Geno. He is Mr. HHW, after all. That may not mean anything to me, but I’m sure it means something to somebody. That’s why I’m going to have to be prepared. I may not fear Geno, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give him credit. I gotta keep my head on straight, no my objective. Not let Al Laiman distract me into losing the match, that’s what he would want.
Hit the wheel and double the stakes
throttle wide open like a bat out of hell
and you crash the gates
(crash the gates)
It makes me think of when I started here in PCW. I had no idea what to expect of the competition, and they had no idea what to expect of me. It didn’t take long before I opened up the throttle and charged the gates, that being the top tier talent in this business. I charged like a demon, no regard, and ended up at the top. I haven’t let up since then. In my mind I’ve gone a bit soft, but it’s not hard to change that. Not hard at all.
Going for the back of beyond
Nothing gonna stop you
there's nothing that strong
So close now you're nearly at the brink
so, push it
I’ve been to the limit before. Or so I think. I don’t know, it could be greater than I anticipated. I don’t actually know how far I can go, but I do want to find out. That way I know what I have to pass next. In my mind there is only one limit, and that’s the sky. I’m not even close to the sky, not yet. There is so much farther to go. I’d hate to think that I’ve been to my own personal limit, because then I’d have nothing to strive for. Nothing’s going to stop me, there’s nothing strong enough. I’ve just got to keep on pushing myself, that’s what I’m doing here. I’m pushing it.
Welcome to the limit
(The limit)
Take it maybe one step more
The power game's still playing so
you better win it
Once I get there what will happen? Will it really be over? Will I win the battle against myself, to be the best that I can be, even for a split second? What will it feel like? Could it match winning the PCW World Title? Could it match defeating David Van Dam when people felt I couldn’t? Would it match winning the Icemann Invitational, as the underdog? The man nobody thought would make it past Sean Hunter? He was the top dog. Now I’m the top dog in the business. Geno thinks otherwise, Laiman thinks otherwise, the term “paper champion” is being thrown around. Well if I’m a paper champion, I’m not sure what my opponents have been, the ones that I’ve decimated. That isn’t saying much for Pure Class Wrestling, not at all. So many questions, no answers, yet. Maybe I’ll reach the limit at Hostile Takeover. Maybe next time I can take it one more step. Who knows. Eventually there will have to be nowhere to go, that’s for certain, and by that time, I’ll have defeated everyone, wiped out everything in my path.
Push it to the limit
(The limit)
With no one left to stand in your way
you might get careless, but you'll never be safe
while you still feel it
Careless? Me? Pfft. Ace Anderson doesn’t get careless. Jason might get careless, but when it comes to the ring Jason doesn’t exist. It’s only Ace Anderson, feeling the hatred pump through his veins, hating back just as much. The crowd is the fuel that runs the motor. The doubt is the power that turns the crank, that pushes me toward this limit. Sometimes I get there, sometimes I don’t. It all depends on if I have to. If I reach the limit, and then I still need to go farther, will I be able to? Of course I’ll be able to. I’m Ace god-damn Anderson, the man who would spit in the face of Jesus Christ, the man who would make fat jokes at Buddha, the man who would look God himself in the eye and tell him he sucks. Limit my ass. There is no limit to the power of Greatness in the Flesh. The sky can fuck itself. The limit can fuck itself. Ace Anderson goes until there is nothing left but total chaos. Nothing left but Ace Anderson in the middle of the ring, laughing at the foolishness of the rest of the world.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I finish another set of pushups. I jump to my feet, and I get into my personal ring. I start running off the ropes. Back and forth. Going faster and faster. I eventually start to slow down until I come to a stop in the middle of the ring. I drop down to my knees, and take in a deep breath. Geno thinks he’s clever. I saw his promo. His “masterpiece” theater. What’s this asshole trying to prove? Nothing, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe I should tell him exactly what I think of his little masterpiece. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I climb out of the ring and grab the camera that I had sitting on a table off to the side, just in case something struck me to tape a promo. Something usually comes to mind when I’m out here. Pay dirt once again.
I set the camera up on the turnbuckle, and turn it on. I walk to the other side of the ring, so I’ll be in view of the camera.
“Geno, I saw your little promo. Masterpiece theater? How cute. You must think you’re so creative. You and your buddy Neo Anderson, talking like retards wearing robes and smoking pipes. Haven’t you prepared for your meeting with Ace Anderson? Or is Mr. HHW too good for Greatness in the Flesh. Legend in the making. Fuck you, Geno. At Hostile Takeover you’ll feel the wrath of a true legend in the making, and you’ll feel yourself slowly breaking until there is nothing left for you but pain, and a three second meeting between your shoulders and the mat. Maybe even a five second meeting. Could Ace Anderson be that cocky, and request a five count? You bet your ass he could. Humiliating you is right next to the top of the list, Geno, right under beating you to a pulp. A big, retarded, over-confident pulp. You truly are going to meet your breaker Geno. You are the one and the only, everyone else is a toy? Just try to play with Ace Anderson, Geno. It’s like playing with fire. Or bombs. Or a loaded gun. You’re going to get hurt, or worse, killed.” I end off that little spit on a hard note, as I walk across the ring and shut off the camera. I’ll send that in later. Right now, I have to get back to my training. Number one priority, right there.
As I get down to start another set of sit ups, I hear my phone ring.
“Who the fuck could that be?” I ask myself aloud. I walk over to my phone, and I answer it. “Hello?” I say, sounding annoyed.
“Hey, is this Jason? Did I call at a bad time?” the voice on the other end was sweet. It took me a second to clue in. Katelyn.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I say, my voice instantly changing to a soft tone, as opposed to the gruff and slightly angered tone I answered with.
“Nothing...I just decided to call you since you gave me your number and all...but you don’t sound too pleased.” she says back. Hopefully I didn’t scare her or some shit.
“Well, I’m just working out. Getting ready for my match at Hostile Takeover.” I tell her. I haven’t had much chance to work out or watch tapes or anything. Been busy with other things. Now is the best time I have.
“Oh, well I was just wondering if you’d like to go out for some coffee or something...the only thing is we’d have to go soon because I have places to be tonight.” she tells me. What to say? I need this time. I need to get ready. I make my decision.
“Sorry, gotta keep getting ready for this match. Maybe some other time, though. Good bye.” I say, half wanting to kick myself in the ass.
Her voice is the sound of sheer disappointment. “Oh, alright then. Maybe I’ll call some other time. Good bye, and good luck.” I hang up the phone, throw it off to the side, and get down on my back for some sit ups. After this, I’ll go inside and watch some HHW tapes of Geno’s old matches. One thing, however, is for certain.
Some things, never change.
The lyrics used were taken from the theme to the movie "Scarface."
