Post by danfierce on Sept 29, 2011 17:56:38 GMT -6
Dan Fierce walks into the WPW arena and takes a good look around. He looks rather unimpressed as he takes in the backstage scenery. A stagehand approaches him, they exchange some small talk and the man points Dan towards his appointed locker room down the hall. As he walks down, he notices how empty the place looks compared to how things looked when he was on his initial tenure in the XWF. He stops at a door with an obviously hand-made paper cut out of a star with his name spelled out in some glitter glued haphazardly to it for the effect of importance. He smiles and shakes his head as he turns the knob and enters. As he swings the door wide, the odor of chlorine mixed with a faint smell of various deodorants evacuates the room. Dan reluctantly sets his Gucci duffle bag on what could only be labeled as a barely kempt wooden bench set in front of a row of lockers, the green paint peeling in places.
“Wow. THIS is certainly no trade-up,” he thinks sarcastically. A television monitor sits in one corner of the room with a DVR alongside it. He collects the remote control and brings the television to life. After a few more selections, he finds his opponents’ promos for the match he is here specifically for; the All-Around TV Title. He watches the brief intros and pauses just after the second one is done. It was some kid named Robbie Milano. The only other combatant entered so far was another kid named Kevin Strife. He stops to formulate his words carefully, finally giving the cameraman the nod to go ahead and begin recording.
“Well, here I am. In the WPW. For those who don’t know me, and I’m not so damned arrogant to assume everyone does, my name is Dan Fierce. Perhaps we could do like Kevin Strife and waste a whole promo introducing ourself. Or, we could waste the cameraman’s time for a self-indulgent fit of back-patting. But the truth is, that isn’t why I’m here. Hell, all cards on the table, I’m not REALLY even here for the All-Around TV Title, or whatever it is. I’m simply here to prove a point. You see, I come from the XWF, and I wear that label proudly. It may make me popular here, or it may not. It’s really no skin off my nose either way. The point I’m here to prove is to a couple of the other WPW boys by the name of Marquee and Firebomb that I’m not scared of them on my turf OR theirs.
“Frankly, from the vacant and lonely looks of things around here, I’d say this place is struggling more than I’ve been led to believe. Oh, I could do like Firebomb and Marquee, and prattle on about how my presence here is going to make ratings shoot through the roof. Let’s be honest. We ALL know that’s not necessarily the case, in my case or theirs. Anyhoo… Enough about the poster children for Dumb and Dumber-er-er. I have a couple of boys I need to talk to for THIS match.
“I’m not entirely certain if either of you boys have experience, Robbie and Kevin, but I’m not afraid to pop your cherries.” He looks down, his huge grin growing wider, and then looks back at the camera. “I’m talking about your ring action. What did you think I meant? Get your mind out of the gutters. Honestly, I feel like that nasty old man with the windowless van creeping around a playground with candy to offer. Are either of you even dry behind your ears? Ugh. You are both little cuties, but I think wrestling you is likely to have NAMBLA knocking on my door wanting me to join their perverted ranks. The XWF isn’t all that much better. Hell, there I’m wrestling a kid who’s even younger than the two of you. Christ. I don’t mind the energetic youth, but am I a wrestler or an uncle with a shiny quarter and a sly grin? Where are all the REAL men at? I don’t mind passing the torch, but for God’s sake, can’t they at least be old enough for a beer at a club first?
“Suffice it to say, boys, that I’m here to take that belt to the XWF as proof to the jokers who reside here that I am every bit as good as I say I am. Take me seriously, or don’t. Either way, at the end of the day, the both of you will fall short of this gold at this particular time. I will walk out with the TV Title just so I can showcase it to the two who claim to be top tier stars of this wrestling federation. I’ll do it, not to put another notch on my bedpost, but rather to demonstrate that the very titles they flaunt so vainly are simple to obtain, and even simpler to keep in the WPW. This is the first step to regain my credibility, not just in the WPW, but in the whole of wrestling. So step in, step out, or get stepped on, Robbie and Kevin. Life is fabulous, fun, and Fierce… And so am I!”
“Wow. THIS is certainly no trade-up,” he thinks sarcastically. A television monitor sits in one corner of the room with a DVR alongside it. He collects the remote control and brings the television to life. After a few more selections, he finds his opponents’ promos for the match he is here specifically for; the All-Around TV Title. He watches the brief intros and pauses just after the second one is done. It was some kid named Robbie Milano. The only other combatant entered so far was another kid named Kevin Strife. He stops to formulate his words carefully, finally giving the cameraman the nod to go ahead and begin recording.
“Well, here I am. In the WPW. For those who don’t know me, and I’m not so damned arrogant to assume everyone does, my name is Dan Fierce. Perhaps we could do like Kevin Strife and waste a whole promo introducing ourself. Or, we could waste the cameraman’s time for a self-indulgent fit of back-patting. But the truth is, that isn’t why I’m here. Hell, all cards on the table, I’m not REALLY even here for the All-Around TV Title, or whatever it is. I’m simply here to prove a point. You see, I come from the XWF, and I wear that label proudly. It may make me popular here, or it may not. It’s really no skin off my nose either way. The point I’m here to prove is to a couple of the other WPW boys by the name of Marquee and Firebomb that I’m not scared of them on my turf OR theirs.
“Frankly, from the vacant and lonely looks of things around here, I’d say this place is struggling more than I’ve been led to believe. Oh, I could do like Firebomb and Marquee, and prattle on about how my presence here is going to make ratings shoot through the roof. Let’s be honest. We ALL know that’s not necessarily the case, in my case or theirs. Anyhoo… Enough about the poster children for Dumb and Dumber-er-er. I have a couple of boys I need to talk to for THIS match.
“I’m not entirely certain if either of you boys have experience, Robbie and Kevin, but I’m not afraid to pop your cherries.” He looks down, his huge grin growing wider, and then looks back at the camera. “I’m talking about your ring action. What did you think I meant? Get your mind out of the gutters. Honestly, I feel like that nasty old man with the windowless van creeping around a playground with candy to offer. Are either of you even dry behind your ears? Ugh. You are both little cuties, but I think wrestling you is likely to have NAMBLA knocking on my door wanting me to join their perverted ranks. The XWF isn’t all that much better. Hell, there I’m wrestling a kid who’s even younger than the two of you. Christ. I don’t mind the energetic youth, but am I a wrestler or an uncle with a shiny quarter and a sly grin? Where are all the REAL men at? I don’t mind passing the torch, but for God’s sake, can’t they at least be old enough for a beer at a club first?
“Suffice it to say, boys, that I’m here to take that belt to the XWF as proof to the jokers who reside here that I am every bit as good as I say I am. Take me seriously, or don’t. Either way, at the end of the day, the both of you will fall short of this gold at this particular time. I will walk out with the TV Title just so I can showcase it to the two who claim to be top tier stars of this wrestling federation. I’ll do it, not to put another notch on my bedpost, but rather to demonstrate that the very titles they flaunt so vainly are simple to obtain, and even simpler to keep in the WPW. This is the first step to regain my credibility, not just in the WPW, but in the whole of wrestling. So step in, step out, or get stepped on, Robbie and Kevin. Life is fabulous, fun, and Fierce… And so am I!”