Post by fdcm on Mar 23, 2007 0:15:11 GMT -6
The lights go down in the arena as the intro to "YYZ" begins to play. As the guitar kicks in, the arena is filled with red and gold spotlights as two scantily clad women appear and roll out an impossibly long red carpet down the aisle. The crowd doesn't know what to make of it until a familiar figure appears...FDCM, flanked by two more women in short dresses and spike heels.
But something is different about him. The eager, aggressive spring is gone from his step and his ever-present grin is completely gone. He wears a red suit with a long white fur coat over top of it, and mirrored sunglasses embedded with diamonds. His ears, too, bear gigantic diamond studs. Around his neck is a platinum chain with a huge platinum "BANG!" logo on it. And of course, around his waist, the most important ornament of wealth and power he owns...the UWL World Championship.
FDCM looks boredly left and then right at the crowd, who don't seem to know if they should boo or cheer him, before putting an arm around each of his women and strolling nonchalantly down the aisle. He heads up the ring steps where the first two girls are already holding the ropes open for him. He steps calmly through the ropes as the lights come back up in the arena. FDCM stands silently in the center of the ring, turning slowly in a circle, taking in the crowd for a moment. One of his girls walks over and hands him a mic, which he accepts. Another walks over carrying a plastic trash can and sets it at FDCM's feet. With one hand, FDCM removes the UWL Championship from around his waist. With the other, he raises the mic to his lips.
FDCM: I know what you want me to do with this...
Teasingly, FDCM dips the belt down into the trashcan, but never releases it.
FDCM: Out with the old, in with the new...pull an Alundra. Drop it in the garbage and stick it to the promotion that treated me so bad. Kill the last remnant of the old UWL, and cry out "Yeah!! I'm POW for life! Let's kick ass!" ...well guess what, you short-sighted idiots?
With a smirk, FDCM pulls the title out of the can, which he punts into the audience with a laugh.
FDCM: I'd sooner die then give this title up!
FDCM hoists the belt up onto his shoulder before continuing. Far from tossing it in the trash, he's raising it to greater heights than ever before.
FDCM: You see...I'm sick...and tired...of laying down titles. I'm sick...and tired...of putting a company's needs before my own. And I'm sick...and tired...of being a god damned "team player."
Y'see, three times now, I've won a world heavyweight championship. Three times in my entire, nearly two-decade long career! And all three times, it's been taken from me. Not by a superior competitor. Not in a clean fight. No, not even in a screwjob. Three times, I've had a company representative simply come to me and say "it's over, FDCM. We're moving on. You aren't the champ anymore."
As he becomes more incensed, FDCM throws off his shades, revealing the crazy blue eyes beneath. One of his girls, who have been standing silently to the side through his speech, scrambles over and picks up the discarded sunglasses. FDCM takes no notice.
FDCM: Well what f**king sense does that make, ladies and gentlemen!? I was under the impression we had a rule in this business, laid down by one of the alltime greats..."To be the man, you gotta beat the man." Well I've beaten the man. I've beaten him three times. Just a couple of months ago, I beat the man...YOUR man...Tito Capaci, clean, two out of three falls in a ring an awful lot like the one I stand in at this very moment. And as bad as my memory may be getting in my old age, I sure as HELL don't remember anyone subsequently beating ME!
Yet I look at the website. I look in the magazines. I look at the leaderboard. And who's the world champion? Who's the cream of the crop?
Shawn. f**king. Stevens!?
I really want someone to explain it to me. I want someone who truly understands the rules of this business to come and explain to me how it all works. How am I, a man who has NEVER been pinned or made to submit, all of a sudden not the heavyweight champion of the world? Because of some insignificant company closing? Because some asshole in Tennessee is a shitty businessman? THAT is what ended my world title reign?
Well I've laid down too many times in my life, too many times in my career, for the good of others. I'm here tonight to say to each and every one of you...NO!!
I won't do it again! On that fateful February night I went to sleep the heavyweight champion of the world, and I woke up the next morning heavyweight champion of the world, no matter what Jay Jefferson, or Tito Capaci, or Shawn Stevens, or anybody else has to say about it! And this title...this belt that you selfish fools would have me throw away for your f**king amusement...is what proves it.
FDCM stares down at the belt on his shoulder with an almost loving gaze, before turning a glare back to the audience he is berating.
FDCM: This championship...a TRUE championship...like any championship, it isn't really much. A couple pounds of gold and leather. On its own, it is meaningless. So why do I cling to it like it's my child? What makes it legitimate? What makes it so special?
I'll tell you...it's the competition. Wars have been fought over this belt I hold. Men, great men, the best of the best, have fought, bled, sweated, and cried over this belt. Teddy Davis. Tito Capaci. Jay T. Nitro. Josh Eagles. Cody Cross. Shawn Stevens...and yours truly. Night after night, we came out and we lived and died by who got to go home with THIS prize...and that is what made it the most coveted title in all the world.
Compare that with this...this joke of a title Shawn Stevens carries in this promotion. What is it, a month old? Even that? And who has he beaten to claim it? Rich Morrison!? Don't make me laugh. Three of the women standing in this ring are more legitimate world title contenders than that whiny scumbag. Calling any title you pin him to earn a "world championship" is insulting to the very terminology.
Which brings me to my next point...the obligatory "why I jumped that asshole" speech. I've made plenty, I'm a seasoned pro. Quite simply...when Rich Morrison got anywhere near the so-called "World Title Picture" of this pathetic embryo of a would-be wrestling company, I took it as a personal insult to myself, and to every TRUE world champion who has ever worn gold. And I took it upon myself to show that little punk what a REAL world champion can do. It's really that simple.
And I understand that now, we probably have to have a match. I see that I'm scheduled to debut against him next week. Well let me tell you, that's fine. I'm more than happy to step into this ring and show anyone why I'm the one worthy of bearing the weight of this championship belt...even a pathetic wuss like Rich. But if you think I'm putting my title on the line against a wretch like him, you can forget it. He's not worthy of a title shot...but he may be worthy of an ass kicking and a lesson by the Friendly Neighborhood FDC Man!
And once that...ugly little order of business is taken care of, understand this. I am here for one reason, and one reason only. To eliminate the ATROCITY that is being committed by this company. The TRAVESTY, of Shawn Stevens carrying around a fake world title. A title they tell YOU good people is worthy of paying money to see contested. Know this. Just as there is only one true God, there is only one true World Champion...and ladies and gentlemen, he's arrived. So fear not! Because I am here to cleanse this company of the lying, perpetrating, dishonest men trying to convince you who the world champion is. Because you know, and I know, that there's only one...REAL World Champion...and his name is FLYING...DIAMOND...CUTTER...MAN!!!!
And I will not rest, until EVERY pathetic imitation, every second-rate scum, every substitute championship, has been wiped off the face of Power On Wrestling. And I will take my rightful place back atop the world of professional sports...as Heavyweight Champion of the World.
And if you don't like that...what are you gonna do about it!? I'm the champ!
Without another word, FDCM drops his mic to the ground. The valet who picked up his sunglasses quietly brings them over and extends them to him. Wordlessly, he snatches them out of her hand and replaces them over his eyes.
But until the moment they are covered, his eyes are striking. They are the eyes of a man possessed. The eyes of an egomaniac, a lunatic.
The eyes of madness.
But something is different about him. The eager, aggressive spring is gone from his step and his ever-present grin is completely gone. He wears a red suit with a long white fur coat over top of it, and mirrored sunglasses embedded with diamonds. His ears, too, bear gigantic diamond studs. Around his neck is a platinum chain with a huge platinum "BANG!" logo on it. And of course, around his waist, the most important ornament of wealth and power he owns...the UWL World Championship.
FDCM looks boredly left and then right at the crowd, who don't seem to know if they should boo or cheer him, before putting an arm around each of his women and strolling nonchalantly down the aisle. He heads up the ring steps where the first two girls are already holding the ropes open for him. He steps calmly through the ropes as the lights come back up in the arena. FDCM stands silently in the center of the ring, turning slowly in a circle, taking in the crowd for a moment. One of his girls walks over and hands him a mic, which he accepts. Another walks over carrying a plastic trash can and sets it at FDCM's feet. With one hand, FDCM removes the UWL Championship from around his waist. With the other, he raises the mic to his lips.
FDCM: I know what you want me to do with this...
Teasingly, FDCM dips the belt down into the trashcan, but never releases it.
FDCM: Out with the old, in with the new...pull an Alundra. Drop it in the garbage and stick it to the promotion that treated me so bad. Kill the last remnant of the old UWL, and cry out "Yeah!! I'm POW for life! Let's kick ass!" ...well guess what, you short-sighted idiots?
With a smirk, FDCM pulls the title out of the can, which he punts into the audience with a laugh.
FDCM: I'd sooner die then give this title up!
FDCM hoists the belt up onto his shoulder before continuing. Far from tossing it in the trash, he's raising it to greater heights than ever before.
FDCM: You see...I'm sick...and tired...of laying down titles. I'm sick...and tired...of putting a company's needs before my own. And I'm sick...and tired...of being a god damned "team player."
Y'see, three times now, I've won a world heavyweight championship. Three times in my entire, nearly two-decade long career! And all three times, it's been taken from me. Not by a superior competitor. Not in a clean fight. No, not even in a screwjob. Three times, I've had a company representative simply come to me and say "it's over, FDCM. We're moving on. You aren't the champ anymore."
As he becomes more incensed, FDCM throws off his shades, revealing the crazy blue eyes beneath. One of his girls, who have been standing silently to the side through his speech, scrambles over and picks up the discarded sunglasses. FDCM takes no notice.
FDCM: Well what f**king sense does that make, ladies and gentlemen!? I was under the impression we had a rule in this business, laid down by one of the alltime greats..."To be the man, you gotta beat the man." Well I've beaten the man. I've beaten him three times. Just a couple of months ago, I beat the man...YOUR man...Tito Capaci, clean, two out of three falls in a ring an awful lot like the one I stand in at this very moment. And as bad as my memory may be getting in my old age, I sure as HELL don't remember anyone subsequently beating ME!
Yet I look at the website. I look in the magazines. I look at the leaderboard. And who's the world champion? Who's the cream of the crop?
Shawn. f**king. Stevens!?
I really want someone to explain it to me. I want someone who truly understands the rules of this business to come and explain to me how it all works. How am I, a man who has NEVER been pinned or made to submit, all of a sudden not the heavyweight champion of the world? Because of some insignificant company closing? Because some asshole in Tennessee is a shitty businessman? THAT is what ended my world title reign?
Well I've laid down too many times in my life, too many times in my career, for the good of others. I'm here tonight to say to each and every one of you...NO!!
I won't do it again! On that fateful February night I went to sleep the heavyweight champion of the world, and I woke up the next morning heavyweight champion of the world, no matter what Jay Jefferson, or Tito Capaci, or Shawn Stevens, or anybody else has to say about it! And this title...this belt that you selfish fools would have me throw away for your f**king amusement...is what proves it.
FDCM stares down at the belt on his shoulder with an almost loving gaze, before turning a glare back to the audience he is berating.
FDCM: This championship...a TRUE championship...like any championship, it isn't really much. A couple pounds of gold and leather. On its own, it is meaningless. So why do I cling to it like it's my child? What makes it legitimate? What makes it so special?
I'll tell you...it's the competition. Wars have been fought over this belt I hold. Men, great men, the best of the best, have fought, bled, sweated, and cried over this belt. Teddy Davis. Tito Capaci. Jay T. Nitro. Josh Eagles. Cody Cross. Shawn Stevens...and yours truly. Night after night, we came out and we lived and died by who got to go home with THIS prize...and that is what made it the most coveted title in all the world.
Compare that with this...this joke of a title Shawn Stevens carries in this promotion. What is it, a month old? Even that? And who has he beaten to claim it? Rich Morrison!? Don't make me laugh. Three of the women standing in this ring are more legitimate world title contenders than that whiny scumbag. Calling any title you pin him to earn a "world championship" is insulting to the very terminology.
Which brings me to my next point...the obligatory "why I jumped that asshole" speech. I've made plenty, I'm a seasoned pro. Quite simply...when Rich Morrison got anywhere near the so-called "World Title Picture" of this pathetic embryo of a would-be wrestling company, I took it as a personal insult to myself, and to every TRUE world champion who has ever worn gold. And I took it upon myself to show that little punk what a REAL world champion can do. It's really that simple.
And I understand that now, we probably have to have a match. I see that I'm scheduled to debut against him next week. Well let me tell you, that's fine. I'm more than happy to step into this ring and show anyone why I'm the one worthy of bearing the weight of this championship belt...even a pathetic wuss like Rich. But if you think I'm putting my title on the line against a wretch like him, you can forget it. He's not worthy of a title shot...but he may be worthy of an ass kicking and a lesson by the Friendly Neighborhood FDC Man!
And once that...ugly little order of business is taken care of, understand this. I am here for one reason, and one reason only. To eliminate the ATROCITY that is being committed by this company. The TRAVESTY, of Shawn Stevens carrying around a fake world title. A title they tell YOU good people is worthy of paying money to see contested. Know this. Just as there is only one true God, there is only one true World Champion...and ladies and gentlemen, he's arrived. So fear not! Because I am here to cleanse this company of the lying, perpetrating, dishonest men trying to convince you who the world champion is. Because you know, and I know, that there's only one...REAL World Champion...and his name is FLYING...DIAMOND...CUTTER...MAN!!!!
And I will not rest, until EVERY pathetic imitation, every second-rate scum, every substitute championship, has been wiped off the face of Power On Wrestling. And I will take my rightful place back atop the world of professional sports...as Heavyweight Champion of the World.
And if you don't like that...what are you gonna do about it!? I'm the champ!
Without another word, FDCM drops his mic to the ground. The valet who picked up his sunglasses quietly brings them over and extends them to him. Wordlessly, he snatches them out of her hand and replaces them over his eyes.
But until the moment they are covered, his eyes are striking. They are the eyes of a man possessed. The eyes of an egomaniac, a lunatic.
The eyes of madness.