Post by fdcm on Jun 7, 2007 22:57:14 GMT -6
We find ourselves in a crowded room of the Dover Air Force Base, where a rabid crowd of reporters from various media outlets are all fighting to "scoop" one another at a press conference promoting the biggest event of the...well...the week, at least: POW Over In Dover!
A huge banner reminds us so at the head of the room, in front of which are seated numerous POW New England superstars and their attendants. Surprisingly, JR Zevon is not among them.
Each worker has his chance to say his peace and hype his match. However, it isn't until the conference begins winding down that the majority of the reporters get what they're waiting for...
Randall Lovejoy: Alright ladies and gentlemen of the press, here to promote our MAIN EVENT...POW New England is proud to welcome the Power On Wrestling WORLD...HEAVYWEIGHT...CHAMPION...Flying Diamond Cutter Man!
Despite themselves, several of the reporters break into fanboyish applause along with the crowd of spectators as FDCM saunters up to the main microphone at the center table, Rosenberg on one side of him and a Flying Diamond Cutter Girl on the other. The girl dutifully tests the microphone (despite the fact that it was just being used) while FDCM shakes Lovejoy's hand with a broad grin, much to the delight of a photo op-seeking media.
After FDCM and Lovejoy stop posing and the FDC Girl seems satisfied with the mic, the champ finally leans down to speak.
FDCM: ...well gentlemen, let's make this quick, shall we? I've got a lot of preparing to do still for my very qualified opponent...who didn't even see fit to attend this conference.
FDCM offers a good-natured wink that gets a light laugh out of the crowd, before beginning to take questions.
Reporter: Kind of on that note...it's very odd of Zevon to miss a conference like this. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?
FDCM: Not I. As I understand it, he only talks to that Lee Cash fella anyway...but last I heard, the poor guy was still trying to get his keys out of his car. Or dig up some Arby's, or something.
Another Reporter: You seem pretty relaxed for a guy that's about to have his first ever World Title defense. You feel that well prepared, champ?
FDCM: You seem to be forgetting that this is the third world title I've held in three promotions. It's not like I've never had to defend a major championship before, you know? And against much bigger and badder than Junior Zevon, quite frankly.
Another Another Reporter: Harsh words, FDCM. You're pretty serious about dropping the "nice guy" act, even though your opponent has remained respectful?
FDCM: Don't misunderstand. I have no personal qualms with Junior. We have some differences in opinion, some differences in ideology, but at the end of the day we're both just guys trying to do our job. And more than that, we're both still champions. And that's something I'll emphasize...after Over In Dover, we will BOTH still be champions. You can rest assured of that.
Female Voice: How do you respond to Zevon's claims that your so-called "pegging" of him is completely off in left field?
Everyone turns to face the source of the new voice, who has just entered the room from the back. It's none other than...
FDCM: Ahhh, Miss Campbell! I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance.
Stephie: Couldn't miss another opportunity to report on you making an ass of yourself, now could I?
FDCM: Ooooohohoho....your words sting, but I kinda like it! Now then...about Junior's inane babbling...who is he to say what I do or do not know about someone? He claims to be new-school? Claims to be all about a new era? Yet that's MY shtick...and I've heard several people say that I stand for all he hates...really, it's just an enigma wrapped in a conundrum inside of a pickle! It doesn't make any sense whatsoever!
So, here's Dr. Diamond Cutter Man's diagnosis of the situation...Zevon is contradicting himself. When do men contradict themselves? When they're backed into a corner. When they're scared. When they're looking for any lifeline they can grab hold of to save themselves from oblivion.
Well Junior, there's nothing that can save you from FDCM now. I've got you in my sights. I've got you locked down. And you can say what you want about me, about my lifestyle, about my methods, hell, even about my DIETING habits since you've seen fit to speak on that for some strange reason.
But take a look at my track record, Zevon. Take a look at the men I've taken down. Jay T. Nitro. Tito Capaci. Rich Morrison. And so many more! What did they all have in common? They all thought they had our match won before it even began.
You know...I sit here and I say it right to your faces. "Don't underestimate me." "Don't count me out." "Don't make the same mistake so many others have made." Yet you go out and that's exactly what you do. He's a joke. He's a crazy old man. He's totally wrong about me. And then, match night comes...and BANG!!! ....you're history before you even realize what's hit you.
You're nothing special, Zevon. You're no Nitro. You're no Capaci. What makes you think you'll fare any better than they did? What makes you think you've got a shot in hell...where men you aren't worthy of standing in the same room with have failed miserably?
I'll be keeping this one short and sweet, ladies and gentlemen: I have got Zevon right where I want him. And in just a few short days, you'll all see that once again, I speak nothing but the truth. And it'll be Flying Diamond Cutter, BANG-2-3, Mission Accomplished. STILL...Heavyweight...Champion...of the WORRRRRLD...The Friendly Neighborhood FDC Man. Place your bets now.
Having said his peace, FDCM puts on his shades and walks off the stage and out the door, much to the distress of the many, many reporters that haven't even gotten to ask a question yet. One ballsy reporter tries to run and shove a mic in his face. He grabs FDCM's arm, who looks down at it with a look of horror as if he's been touched by a leper. Backhanding the young man away, the journalist is then immediately restrained and thrown to the ground by one of FDCM's titanic bodyguards.
With a smug smile, FDCM resumes leading his entourage away from the conference. In the chaos, Stephie stands transfixed in the back of the room.
Stephie: Something's off...
With a determined nod, Stephie pushes through the crowd and heads after the escaping crew...
A huge banner reminds us so at the head of the room, in front of which are seated numerous POW New England superstars and their attendants. Surprisingly, JR Zevon is not among them.
Each worker has his chance to say his peace and hype his match. However, it isn't until the conference begins winding down that the majority of the reporters get what they're waiting for...
Randall Lovejoy: Alright ladies and gentlemen of the press, here to promote our MAIN EVENT...POW New England is proud to welcome the Power On Wrestling WORLD...HEAVYWEIGHT...CHAMPION...Flying Diamond Cutter Man!
Despite themselves, several of the reporters break into fanboyish applause along with the crowd of spectators as FDCM saunters up to the main microphone at the center table, Rosenberg on one side of him and a Flying Diamond Cutter Girl on the other. The girl dutifully tests the microphone (despite the fact that it was just being used) while FDCM shakes Lovejoy's hand with a broad grin, much to the delight of a photo op-seeking media.
After FDCM and Lovejoy stop posing and the FDC Girl seems satisfied with the mic, the champ finally leans down to speak.
FDCM: ...well gentlemen, let's make this quick, shall we? I've got a lot of preparing to do still for my very qualified opponent...who didn't even see fit to attend this conference.
FDCM offers a good-natured wink that gets a light laugh out of the crowd, before beginning to take questions.
Reporter: Kind of on that note...it's very odd of Zevon to miss a conference like this. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?
FDCM: Not I. As I understand it, he only talks to that Lee Cash fella anyway...but last I heard, the poor guy was still trying to get his keys out of his car. Or dig up some Arby's, or something.
Another Reporter: You seem pretty relaxed for a guy that's about to have his first ever World Title defense. You feel that well prepared, champ?
FDCM: You seem to be forgetting that this is the third world title I've held in three promotions. It's not like I've never had to defend a major championship before, you know? And against much bigger and badder than Junior Zevon, quite frankly.
Another Another Reporter: Harsh words, FDCM. You're pretty serious about dropping the "nice guy" act, even though your opponent has remained respectful?
FDCM: Don't misunderstand. I have no personal qualms with Junior. We have some differences in opinion, some differences in ideology, but at the end of the day we're both just guys trying to do our job. And more than that, we're both still champions. And that's something I'll emphasize...after Over In Dover, we will BOTH still be champions. You can rest assured of that.
Female Voice: How do you respond to Zevon's claims that your so-called "pegging" of him is completely off in left field?
Everyone turns to face the source of the new voice, who has just entered the room from the back. It's none other than...
FDCM: Ahhh, Miss Campbell! I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance.
Stephie: Couldn't miss another opportunity to report on you making an ass of yourself, now could I?
FDCM: Ooooohohoho....your words sting, but I kinda like it! Now then...about Junior's inane babbling...who is he to say what I do or do not know about someone? He claims to be new-school? Claims to be all about a new era? Yet that's MY shtick...and I've heard several people say that I stand for all he hates...really, it's just an enigma wrapped in a conundrum inside of a pickle! It doesn't make any sense whatsoever!
So, here's Dr. Diamond Cutter Man's diagnosis of the situation...Zevon is contradicting himself. When do men contradict themselves? When they're backed into a corner. When they're scared. When they're looking for any lifeline they can grab hold of to save themselves from oblivion.
Well Junior, there's nothing that can save you from FDCM now. I've got you in my sights. I've got you locked down. And you can say what you want about me, about my lifestyle, about my methods, hell, even about my DIETING habits since you've seen fit to speak on that for some strange reason.
But take a look at my track record, Zevon. Take a look at the men I've taken down. Jay T. Nitro. Tito Capaci. Rich Morrison. And so many more! What did they all have in common? They all thought they had our match won before it even began.
You know...I sit here and I say it right to your faces. "Don't underestimate me." "Don't count me out." "Don't make the same mistake so many others have made." Yet you go out and that's exactly what you do. He's a joke. He's a crazy old man. He's totally wrong about me. And then, match night comes...and BANG!!! ....you're history before you even realize what's hit you.
You're nothing special, Zevon. You're no Nitro. You're no Capaci. What makes you think you'll fare any better than they did? What makes you think you've got a shot in hell...where men you aren't worthy of standing in the same room with have failed miserably?
I'll be keeping this one short and sweet, ladies and gentlemen: I have got Zevon right where I want him. And in just a few short days, you'll all see that once again, I speak nothing but the truth. And it'll be Flying Diamond Cutter, BANG-2-3, Mission Accomplished. STILL...Heavyweight...Champion...of the WORRRRRLD...The Friendly Neighborhood FDC Man. Place your bets now.
Having said his peace, FDCM puts on his shades and walks off the stage and out the door, much to the distress of the many, many reporters that haven't even gotten to ask a question yet. One ballsy reporter tries to run and shove a mic in his face. He grabs FDCM's arm, who looks down at it with a look of horror as if he's been touched by a leper. Backhanding the young man away, the journalist is then immediately restrained and thrown to the ground by one of FDCM's titanic bodyguards.
With a smug smile, FDCM resumes leading his entourage away from the conference. In the chaos, Stephie stands transfixed in the back of the room.
Stephie: Something's off...
With a determined nod, Stephie pushes through the crowd and heads after the escaping crew...