Post by fdcm on Jun 8, 2007 0:58:26 GMT -6
Just minutes after the Over in Dover press conference, FDCM's private dressing room door is shut tight. Luckily, through the magic of cinematography, we are able to pass through it and into the room itself.
The scene is much the same as usual...all the furniture, the posters, FDCM's insane amenities. But something's different. There is no music playing, no drinks being passed around or loud laughter. In fact, the only light in the room comes from the big screen TV, in front of which sits FDCM, looking uncharacteristically serious, and next to him an oddly fully clothed Flying Diamond Cutter Girl with a blonde ponytail. Rosenberg and several other girls sit quietly in a corner, with FDCM's trusty bodyguards standing in front of the door.
Zevon: You are lucky that my security system has been conveniently incapacitated. Now, since you are comfortable Mr. Cash it would be your honor to commence the journalism.
FDCM: What the f**k did he just say? I can't even understand him. Fast forward through this.
Dutifully, the blonde seated next to FDCM picks up the remote and fast forwards a bit to what is apparently a whole different clip.
Cash: Your performance Sunday put even Vlade Divac to shame!
Zevon: Xenophobic bastard!
Cash: Xenophobic?
Zevon: Serbs are dishonest? You sicken me, Cash.[/color]
FDCM: What...the hell is he talking about?
FDCGirl: I dunno. What's a Serb?
FDCM: You're joking, right?
FDCGirl: ...
FDCM: *sigh*...just get to the wrestling.
With a click, we fast-forward again to clips of Zevon's actual matches.
FDCM: ...tag team match? When's this from?
FDCGirl: A couple of weeks ago.
FDCM: Exiting the ring...stepping into the ropes...standard mind games. Nothing special.
FDCGirl: You good?
FDCM: One minute.
FDCM stares intently at the screen a few moments more, watching Zevon's every move. How he walks. How he positions himself. How he ties up.
FDCM: Got it. Let's move on.
Suddenly, there's a light knock on the door. When no one immediately responds, it's suddenly pushed open and in steps Stephie Campbell!
FDCM: Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell is this? Didn't you see the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door?
Stephie: Sorry "champ," but I'm afraid your much-lauded "press conference" turned out to be kind of a joke. I'm going to need more than that to do a story!
FDCM: Are you under the impression I give two shits? What does this look like to you!?
Stephie: Now that you mention it, it looks suspiciously like a strategy session, which is odd for a man whose entire strategy consists of hiding behind prostitutes and going for the Diamond Cutter...
FDCM: YES, it's a strategy session. And it just so happens that strategy sessions are supposed to be PRIVATE! So make like a velociraptor and get the f**k out of here!
FDCM's looming bodyguards begin to move dangerously close to Stephie, but she keeps them at bay with a simple sentence:
Stephie: OK, first of all FDCM, what the hell does that even mean? Velociraptor? What the hell? And second of all, it just so HAPPENS that you gave me "exclusive all access" press rights, remember? I have every right to be in this room if I choose to!
FDCM: B...ut...LAWYER!!!!
Frantically, FDCM looks to Rosenberg for help. But the pastel-suited attorney just nods solemnly.
Mouth agape, FDCM turns back to Stephie, who offers a satisfied smile and pulls up a chair.
FDCM: Fine. Stay if you want to. #3, next match please.
With a short glare at Stephie, the blonde ponytailed girl turns the VCR back on, fast forwarding through some more Zevon footage.
FDCM: Stop! This is what I wanted, the championship match. See how long he keeps Cormack in this f**king armbar? He's got no answer for it.
FDCGirl: Yeah, he never gets out of it until Zevon hits the move he was setting him up for.
FDCM: Look at how he's got his hands...where he's applying pressure on the elbow...
FDCM continues muttering to himself while Stephie looks back and forth, jotting down a few notes before snickering to herself.
Stephie: So like...is this serious?
FDCM sighs wearily to himself before turning back to her.
FDCM: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Stephie: C'mon...you don't do this. You're FDCM! You yell BANG and run out to the ring and do a million Diamond Cutters! And then one of your broads gives somebody a low blow or flashes the ref and you find a way to win! You expect me to report that you study this much?
FDCM: You know Miss Campbell, I gave you permission to stay, not to be annoying.
Stephie: Yeah, well that kinda goes along with the whole "press" thing...
FDCM: You know something? That does it.
FDCM picks up the remote and turns off the TV. With the same control, he turns on some sort of strobe light and a weird sort of loud techno music from the nearby stereo.
Stephie: ...what's this?
FDCM: You want "all-access?" You want "raw?" Well you're about to get it, baby! #3, assume the position!
In one swift, fluid movement, the blonde that had been seated next to FDCM stands, rips off her sweatsuit, and bends over a nearby couch. Another FDC Girl in some black leather getup walks in and hands FDCM a huge paddle. A third girl in the same outfit leads in a donkey wearing a leather mask. FDCM walks to a chest in a corner, and from inside produces the oversized head of a pink bunny mascot costume, which he puts on. Stephie's jaw drops as the scene unfolds.
Stephie: Wh...wh.....what!?
FDCM's voice is somewhat muffled by the bunny head as he replies:
FDCM: Well, I decided that after all this hard work, a little recreation was in order! You DID want to stay and see what goes on inside the FDCM locker room...right?
Still wearing the bunny head, FDCM saunters over towards the prone blonde, swinging the paddle merrily. But before he has a chance to do anything...
Stephie: You know what? I'm out. Good luck on Sunday!
As she almost literally FLIES out of the room, Stephie can be heard shouting down the hallway:
Stephie: Why does the World Champion have to be so WEIIIIIIIRD!?!?!?
Solemnly, one of the bodyguards shuts the door. FDCM stands still for a moment before asking.
FDCM: ...is she gone?
Bodyguard: Long gone, sir.
FDCM: Good deal.
Lifting the remote, FDCM shuts off the lights and music. He takes off the bunny head and tosses it aside along with the paddle. The blonde gets up and goes and puts her clothes back on. The donkey HEE-HAWs loudly as it is led back out of the room. FDCM offers Rosenberg a slightly confused look.
FDCM: ...when the hell did we get a donkey?
Rosenberg just shakes his head with a somewhat incredulous look on his face.
FDCM: ...I gotta stop drinking.
Elsewhere, Stephie is high-tailing it down the hall. She seemingly gets miles away from FDCM's dressing room before she finally stops to catch her breath. What the hell WAS all that?
: Don't tell me you let him get to you.
Leaning against the wall nearby stands a young man in a cheap-looking suit, holding a notepad like Stephie's.
Stephie: What's that supposed to mean?
The newcomer chuckles before responding.
: Look, my name's Nick Davis. I've covered FDCM a long time...I think I have some information that might help you with your story.
Meanwhile, back in the dressing room, FDCM's attendants seem to be packing his things.
Rosenberg: You sure this is necessary?
FDCM: Surer than sure, Lawyer old pal. The confidentiality of this operation has been compromised! Eventually she'll be back, and we've got a lot more work to do. And we need to do it where prying eyes won't interfere.
Rosenberg: Well, if you're sure...
FDCM: Lawyer, I can read all these people like books. Trust me on this. Nothing surprises me anymore...
Elsewhere, Stephie and Nick seem to be sitting in some sort of cafeteria.
Nick: ...long story short, he's done it for years, and he's still doing it today. It's how he beat Tito Capaci, it's how he beat Jay T. Nitro, it's how he beat Rich Morrison...all his major victories, throughout his entire career, were attained through a simple form of misdirection.
Stephie: I'm not sure I understand...
Nick: Well, it's just like that Diamond Cutter move of his. You think you're in control of the match, victory in hand. Then, in a split second, BANG!!! You're face-first in the mat and his hand is being raised. It's the same with his strategy. FDCM is a master of the mind game. He spends the weeks leading up to a match convincing you he's nothing but an incompetent, overconfident, drunken old fool. Then, it's fight night, and all of a sudden, CLICK. He turns it on. By the time you're in the ring with him, he knows everything about you. All your habits, all your tendencies. And you don't have shit on him. By the time you realize it, it's too late.
Stephie: It seems so simple...
Nick: Sure, but it works. What, you didn't think he was REALLY a three-time world champ because he knows 7,000 Diamond Cutters, did you?
Stephie: ...dammit. He did it to me, too!
Nick: Chased you away so you wouldn't report on his REAL strategizing?
Stephie: CRAP!!!
Stephie gets up to leave, but Nick grabs her arm.
Nick: Compensation. For the info I just gave you, I want access to your notes from the exclusive meetings you had with him.
Stephie: ...we'll talk later.
With that, Stephie high-tails it back to FDCM's dressing room. But by the time she gets there, it's completely empty, save a note pinned to the door:
"Stephie -
So sorry to stand you up, but I had some REAL work to do.
See you Sunday.
- FDCM"
Stephie: CRAP!!!!
Steph's outburst causes a third fold to fall out from beneath the note, with more writing on it:
"P.S. - You NEVER saw it coming! BANG!!!!"
The scene is much the same as usual...all the furniture, the posters, FDCM's insane amenities. But something's different. There is no music playing, no drinks being passed around or loud laughter. In fact, the only light in the room comes from the big screen TV, in front of which sits FDCM, looking uncharacteristically serious, and next to him an oddly fully clothed Flying Diamond Cutter Girl with a blonde ponytail. Rosenberg and several other girls sit quietly in a corner, with FDCM's trusty bodyguards standing in front of the door.
Zevon: You are lucky that my security system has been conveniently incapacitated. Now, since you are comfortable Mr. Cash it would be your honor to commence the journalism.
FDCM: What the f**k did he just say? I can't even understand him. Fast forward through this.
Dutifully, the blonde seated next to FDCM picks up the remote and fast forwards a bit to what is apparently a whole different clip.
Cash: Your performance Sunday put even Vlade Divac to shame!
Zevon: Xenophobic bastard!
Cash: Xenophobic?
Zevon: Serbs are dishonest? You sicken me, Cash.[/color]
FDCM: What...the hell is he talking about?
FDCGirl: I dunno. What's a Serb?
FDCM: You're joking, right?
FDCGirl: ...
FDCM: *sigh*...just get to the wrestling.
With a click, we fast-forward again to clips of Zevon's actual matches.
FDCM: ...tag team match? When's this from?
FDCGirl: A couple of weeks ago.
FDCM: Exiting the ring...stepping into the ropes...standard mind games. Nothing special.
FDCGirl: You good?
FDCM: One minute.
FDCM stares intently at the screen a few moments more, watching Zevon's every move. How he walks. How he positions himself. How he ties up.
FDCM: Got it. Let's move on.
Suddenly, there's a light knock on the door. When no one immediately responds, it's suddenly pushed open and in steps Stephie Campbell!
FDCM: Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell is this? Didn't you see the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door?
Stephie: Sorry "champ," but I'm afraid your much-lauded "press conference" turned out to be kind of a joke. I'm going to need more than that to do a story!
FDCM: Are you under the impression I give two shits? What does this look like to you!?
Stephie: Now that you mention it, it looks suspiciously like a strategy session, which is odd for a man whose entire strategy consists of hiding behind prostitutes and going for the Diamond Cutter...
FDCM: YES, it's a strategy session. And it just so happens that strategy sessions are supposed to be PRIVATE! So make like a velociraptor and get the f**k out of here!
FDCM's looming bodyguards begin to move dangerously close to Stephie, but she keeps them at bay with a simple sentence:
Stephie: OK, first of all FDCM, what the hell does that even mean? Velociraptor? What the hell? And second of all, it just so HAPPENS that you gave me "exclusive all access" press rights, remember? I have every right to be in this room if I choose to!
FDCM: B...ut...LAWYER!!!!
Frantically, FDCM looks to Rosenberg for help. But the pastel-suited attorney just nods solemnly.
Mouth agape, FDCM turns back to Stephie, who offers a satisfied smile and pulls up a chair.
FDCM: Fine. Stay if you want to. #3, next match please.
With a short glare at Stephie, the blonde ponytailed girl turns the VCR back on, fast forwarding through some more Zevon footage.
FDCM: Stop! This is what I wanted, the championship match. See how long he keeps Cormack in this f**king armbar? He's got no answer for it.
FDCGirl: Yeah, he never gets out of it until Zevon hits the move he was setting him up for.
FDCM: Look at how he's got his hands...where he's applying pressure on the elbow...
FDCM continues muttering to himself while Stephie looks back and forth, jotting down a few notes before snickering to herself.
Stephie: So like...is this serious?
FDCM sighs wearily to himself before turning back to her.
FDCM: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Stephie: C'mon...you don't do this. You're FDCM! You yell BANG and run out to the ring and do a million Diamond Cutters! And then one of your broads gives somebody a low blow or flashes the ref and you find a way to win! You expect me to report that you study this much?
FDCM: You know Miss Campbell, I gave you permission to stay, not to be annoying.
Stephie: Yeah, well that kinda goes along with the whole "press" thing...
FDCM: You know something? That does it.
FDCM picks up the remote and turns off the TV. With the same control, he turns on some sort of strobe light and a weird sort of loud techno music from the nearby stereo.
Stephie: ...what's this?
FDCM: You want "all-access?" You want "raw?" Well you're about to get it, baby! #3, assume the position!
In one swift, fluid movement, the blonde that had been seated next to FDCM stands, rips off her sweatsuit, and bends over a nearby couch. Another FDC Girl in some black leather getup walks in and hands FDCM a huge paddle. A third girl in the same outfit leads in a donkey wearing a leather mask. FDCM walks to a chest in a corner, and from inside produces the oversized head of a pink bunny mascot costume, which he puts on. Stephie's jaw drops as the scene unfolds.
Stephie: Wh...wh.....what!?
FDCM's voice is somewhat muffled by the bunny head as he replies:
FDCM: Well, I decided that after all this hard work, a little recreation was in order! You DID want to stay and see what goes on inside the FDCM locker room...right?
Still wearing the bunny head, FDCM saunters over towards the prone blonde, swinging the paddle merrily. But before he has a chance to do anything...
Stephie: You know what? I'm out. Good luck on Sunday!
As she almost literally FLIES out of the room, Stephie can be heard shouting down the hallway:
Stephie: Why does the World Champion have to be so WEIIIIIIIRD!?!?!?
Solemnly, one of the bodyguards shuts the door. FDCM stands still for a moment before asking.
FDCM: ...is she gone?
Bodyguard: Long gone, sir.
FDCM: Good deal.
Lifting the remote, FDCM shuts off the lights and music. He takes off the bunny head and tosses it aside along with the paddle. The blonde gets up and goes and puts her clothes back on. The donkey HEE-HAWs loudly as it is led back out of the room. FDCM offers Rosenberg a slightly confused look.
FDCM: ...when the hell did we get a donkey?
Rosenberg just shakes his head with a somewhat incredulous look on his face.
FDCM: ...I gotta stop drinking.
Elsewhere, Stephie is high-tailing it down the hall. She seemingly gets miles away from FDCM's dressing room before she finally stops to catch her breath. What the hell WAS all that?
: Don't tell me you let him get to you.Leaning against the wall nearby stands a young man in a cheap-looking suit, holding a notepad like Stephie's.
Stephie: What's that supposed to mean?
The newcomer chuckles before responding.
: Look, my name's Nick Davis. I've covered FDCM a long time...I think I have some information that might help you with your story.Meanwhile, back in the dressing room, FDCM's attendants seem to be packing his things.
Rosenberg: You sure this is necessary?
FDCM: Surer than sure, Lawyer old pal. The confidentiality of this operation has been compromised! Eventually she'll be back, and we've got a lot more work to do. And we need to do it where prying eyes won't interfere.
Rosenberg: Well, if you're sure...
FDCM: Lawyer, I can read all these people like books. Trust me on this. Nothing surprises me anymore...
Elsewhere, Stephie and Nick seem to be sitting in some sort of cafeteria.
Nick: ...long story short, he's done it for years, and he's still doing it today. It's how he beat Tito Capaci, it's how he beat Jay T. Nitro, it's how he beat Rich Morrison...all his major victories, throughout his entire career, were attained through a simple form of misdirection.
Stephie: I'm not sure I understand...
Nick: Well, it's just like that Diamond Cutter move of his. You think you're in control of the match, victory in hand. Then, in a split second, BANG!!! You're face-first in the mat and his hand is being raised. It's the same with his strategy. FDCM is a master of the mind game. He spends the weeks leading up to a match convincing you he's nothing but an incompetent, overconfident, drunken old fool. Then, it's fight night, and all of a sudden, CLICK. He turns it on. By the time you're in the ring with him, he knows everything about you. All your habits, all your tendencies. And you don't have shit on him. By the time you realize it, it's too late.
Stephie: It seems so simple...
Nick: Sure, but it works. What, you didn't think he was REALLY a three-time world champ because he knows 7,000 Diamond Cutters, did you?
Stephie: ...dammit. He did it to me, too!
Nick: Chased you away so you wouldn't report on his REAL strategizing?
Stephie: CRAP!!!
Stephie gets up to leave, but Nick grabs her arm.
Nick: Compensation. For the info I just gave you, I want access to your notes from the exclusive meetings you had with him.
Stephie: ...we'll talk later.
With that, Stephie high-tails it back to FDCM's dressing room. But by the time she gets there, it's completely empty, save a note pinned to the door:
"Stephie -
So sorry to stand you up, but I had some REAL work to do.
See you Sunday.
- FDCM"
Stephie: CRAP!!!!
Steph's outburst causes a third fold to fall out from beneath the note, with more writing on it:
"P.S. - You NEVER saw it coming! BANG!!!!"