Coming Up Trumps

[Ace Andrews]

Coming Up Trumps
An Official Ace Andrews RP

APW Meltdown September 9th
Live From Toronto Canada
Ace Andrews VS Ryan Collins VS Tommy Bartlett

The scene opens up on a shot of the clouds from above. The blue sky outside bringing a sense of serenity and peace to anyone who is watching the clouds. After a few moments we see the camera has been filming through a jet window and looking out at the clouds. There's a few more moments of serenity, and then the camera turns to reveal the interior of the jet. The jet is pimped out, with red plush carpet, a massive plasma screen TV, a leather lounge seat instead of your typical tight airplane seats, and even air hostesses in skirts that seem an inch or two too short (or too long, you dirty perverts). The focus of this setup though is the blonde haired man currently laying on the lounge seater though, his feet up one end, his head on the other arm, and an ice pack resting on his forehead, the only sound currently coming from him being the slight wheezing which tells us he is dozing.

This man is Ace Andrews.

Andrews is dressed a little haphazardly right now, his trousers crumpled, his belt undone, his button-up collared shirt has half the buttons undone, and the sleeves are rolled up over his elbows. And just to add to his appearance, he's only wearing one shoe. Go figure. However if this entire scene was to watch Ace nap, it would be entirely too boring, and we can't have that. Thankfully the scene saver is on her way, as into the scene walks the blonde haired goddess Ace hires to basically run his life, Jessica Lodge. Miss Lodge is all smiles as she walks in, a glass of scotch in her right hand, and some folders in her left. Lodge stops a few feet away from Ace, seemingly waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, and when he doesn't, she lashes out with her boot, catching Ace on the ankle.

Jessica Lodge: “Wake Up Call. Please sit your ass up now, so we can talk business.”

The man on the couch jumps a little, and then groans in pain, clutching at his head again.

Ace Andrews “Oh god. You couldn't just shoot me and save me the trouble of waking up, could you?”

Jessica Lodge: “A tempting thought, but No. Besides, after all the drinking you did last night, you deserve the pain.”

Ace Andrews “Not my fault Terry wanted to make our catch up on the same night he was celebrating being APW Undisputed Champion.”

Jessica Lodge: “But it was your suggestion to go fly from France to Vegas to continue the party when the French Authorities tried to shut you down.”

A grin crosses Ace's face as he remembers that and then sits up, his smile fading into a grimace as the movement sees his head bouncing again. However as he sits up, Lodge passes him a glass of scotch, once again returning a smile to Ace's face.

Ace Andrews “Ahhh Scotch. The nectar of the Gods. You're a god-send, Jess.”

Jess smiles a little at Ace's comments, sitting down beside him on the sofa as he sits up. And before Ace can speak again and ruin her mood, Jess hands him across the folders she has.

Jessica Lodge: “I did what you asked. Did a little digging around on Bartlett and Collins for you. I wasn't able to get much, but it should help some-what.”

Ace takes the folder from her, and places it into his lap, now just looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

Ace Andrews “Do we have to be all business right away? Can't a guy get a little drunk before you throw all these folders at him? What id I just wanted to relax today?”

Jessica Lodge: “Ace, you got plenty drunk last night. And you relax every day. This is going to help you with your match at Meltdown, so the least you can do is take the folder, say thank you, and then go and do your little video of hype for your match. This is a big chance for you, so I don't want to see you blow it.”

Silence reigns in the jet for a few moments, and then Ace nods his head with a smile.

Ace Andrews “Thank you Jess. I'll get onto it right away. Is the room ready?”

Jessica nods at Ace with a smile, and Ace immediately stands up, walking toward a door in the back of the cabin, scotch in one hand and folder in the other. The view now switches to the well-lit room Ace has walked into, a leather armchair situated in the center, and a bar across one wall. Ace ignores the bar though, instead heading to the armchair and sitting down. He places the folder on his lap, flipping it open, and glancing down at the page, reading through the info slowly. He flicks a couple of pages, allowing the moment to drag on a little, before he glances up at the camera, a smirk stretching his lips wide.

Ace Andrews “Hello APW, and welcome to my little video room. A few years ago, when I was at the peak of this business, flying high as the Undisputed Champion of ELITE, I had this room built into my jet. The concept is rather simple, this room is almost like a diary room inside a Big Brother house. It allows me to sit down, relax, and vent a little on my future opponents. And most importantly, it allows me to do all this while still running my own enterprise, owning a few casinos, and having a daughter I visit whenever possible in Chicago. One moment, I can go from sealing a business deal over sake in Tokyo, and the next I can be breaking some jackass's kneecap in Toronto. And the best bit is, everything I do with my life, I do it better then everyone else.”

“See, usually by now you'd see me venting over the idiots I'm assigned to wrestle against this week. But this is the first time I've had a chance to speak to you alone, so I wanted to tell you a little about me. And believe me, when I start talking about my favourite subject, it becomes a fascinating tale, an enthralling fable full of love, mystery, gold, money, sex and power. And so for tonight alone, I'll allow you to hear my story, as told by the greatest man available to tell it....me.”

Ace pauses now, taking a slow sip of his scotch to draw out the moment, and wet his throat, before he speaks up again.

Ace Andrews “Many years ago, on a night when the planets aligned, and the moon was full. When the birds were singing, and the universe was crying, into this great planet of ours popped the single greatest baby to ever live. And as I slipped from that passage into this realm, for a single moment the entire universe gasped in shock, adjusting itself to accommodate the greatness that had just arrived. The doctor came in his pants, the nurses creamed their legs, and my parents wept in joy at the parcel of joy they now held in front of them. And as I looked upon my mother and father for the first time, I adjusted my crotch, aimed it right, and pissed all over them.

“Because I wanted it understood right away, as far as I was concerned, they were nothing to me. They brought me into this world, their only job was to make sure I lived long enough to achieve my greatness. Feed me, house me, and then just sit back and watch as I broke the mold on what true greatness really is. And from that day until the time I turned 18 and left, my feelings never changed. And if you need a true example of how great I am, when I first walked into a Las Vegas casino, I slipped the $500 I had on me on the 13 at Roulette. Want to take a guess what number came up?”

“Okay, you, dumbass in the back right corner. If you say number 7 again, I'm going to bitch-slap you.”

“For those of you playing along properly, that number was indeed 13, and I was rich. But it wasn't enough for me. Oh, don't get me wrong, I wasn't suddenly hooked on gambling. I'm too clever for that. I just meant it wasn't enough money. I knew I wanted to be something better then anything ever before, and in order for that to happen, I needed to be richer. So I played the odds, I bet again and again. Poker. Blackjack. Horses. Whores. I bet it again and again, and every single time, I came up trumps. I raised enough to buy into the Montecito Casino. Within six months, I owned it. Then I formed Wildcard Enterprises, and started going into Real Estate, and soon, I was a Billionaire.”

“See, the morale of the story here kids, is that everything I lay my hand upon, I turn to gold. I have the best training money can buy, the intelligence to spot and exploit any weaknesses, and the money to get all the intelligence I need beforehand. Its why I can sit here and talk about myself with no fear of being out-foxed. Because I already know what I need to. I know Bartlett truly is a psychopath. I know he's from a New York mental institution. I know his doctor has gone missing. And I know that he's a big dude that can wrestle well. And thats a scary prospect. But worse of all, is that I don't think he believes what he does is wrong. The man has no moral compass, no true sense of what is right and wrong.”

“Here's a hint Tommy Boy. My entire existence? Right. Your breath? Wrong. Your face? Wrong. That dead hooker in your trunk? Well...okay, she probably deserved it for over-charging. But the simple morale lesson for you, is that I'm a better man then you. You could be Bigger. You could be Badder. You're definitely Uglier. But it doesn't matter whatsoever, as your just not smart enough to beat me this week. Its the same as walking into a Texas Hold-Em game waving monopoly money. Now, I could do that, and walk out having cleared the table. But you would end up under the table, kneecaps shattered, nose to your left, balls to your right, and a glock to your head. You've been out-matched even before the bell rings, so do yourself a favour Crippler, and lose any thoughts you had on winning tonight.”

“And as for you Collins, do you know how many times I've seen your type in this business? You take this cocky little strut into the company. You talk up your skills, you have this little grin on your face like your actually worth a damn. And the truth is, your worth about the same as the excrement I flush after every bowel movement. See, you've got the ego. You've got the pride. But unlike me, you don't have the skills or experience to back it up. I'm coming into APW with my future already set. I'm already locked on for greatness. It's just a matter of time. And so I can walk in, I can talk myself up, and I can tell everyone exactly how good I am. Because I have the history and the refrences to back it up. I'm a Seven Time World Heavyweight Champion. I went undefeated for 6 months, not a single damn person able to pin me. I'm a Billionaire, a husband, and a father. And throughout it all, I've done it with the belief that I'm the best.”

“Maybe one day you can reach that level Collins, but your first step won't be on Meltdown. See, your just coming back from a neck injury. Just stepping back between those ropes after a lengthy healing process. And your doing it to face one man who can snap your neck and then eat his lunch over your corpse, and not feel anything resembling emotion over it. And your facing a man who specialises in finding weak-points and exploiting them. I know where you hurt, Collins. I know how to take you down. And at Meltdown, I'm going to do just that. This week won't be Instantly Classic, because the only replay you'll see of yourself, is losing like the chump you are.”

“The truth is boys, I already know I'm better then you. And all the bravado and hype in the world won't help you at all. Because your going to step between those ropes, and come up against a man with a plan. A man of greatness. A man of pure talent. A man...”

Ace reaches down beside the chair and pulls out a single Ace card, turning it to face the camera, the cocky smirk in place.

Ace Andrews “with The Trump Card. Congratulations boys...You've Just Been Aced!!!

And with that, Ace tosses the card at the camera and the scene cuts to black.