Sunday, November 17th at the MGM Grand here in fabulous Las Vegas it's going to be Pandemonium!
Dick turns off the TV and thinks to himself how it feels good to be in a promotion advertisement again. He then picks up the info sent over about his debut FWF match and opponent, skimming it for what has to be the tenth time.He just lets out a sigh.
"'The King of Extreme' The Executioner.. Daniel 'Logan' Lewis..."
Who has three nicknames? Really.
"Lets see here...About the same size and weight... No advantage there."
He continues down the list, his finger tracing the words.
"Singer and world class caterer who is kind, friendly, caring.. likes puppy dogs and shit... but.."
".. in the ring is brutal, unstoppable, and will execute anyone who faces him."
Dick just stares at the sheet and shakes his head before tossing the report back down to the table beside him. He rises out of his recliner, standing. Looking down at the papers he just read, Fury sighs heavily again before turning and walking through the house. As he comes to the room he set up to shoot promo videos, Fury just holds onto the doorknob. He can not shake the feeling of frustration at the thought of the best of the best not being the first to be contracted with FWF for the debut show. Another groan as he turns the knob and enters the room.
Walking in, Dick flips on the light switch and takes a moment to look around. He ensure the green screen is up and flat, and that the camera across from it, on a tripod, has a charged battery. He ensures that the camera is pointed correctly and hits the record button before walking over to the screen and turning around. Dick takes a breath and gets ready, before he begins. Looking into the camera, Dick cocks a grin.
"This Saturday, live in Dick's back yard.. Sin City... the Fans Wrestling Federation invades the MGM Grand and it's going to be Pandemonium!"
Dick pauses for a moment. He places his hands on his hips and shakes his head, disappointed in himself.
"Look. There's not enough sugar coating that Dick can do to make his upcoming match seem like a reason to get your tickets. But he also can't just sit here and parrot the same cornball marketing hype you see on TV either."
Using his hands as he speaks, Fury continues.
"Dick doesn't want to be THAT guy that comes out and doesn't put his opponent over in some form or fashion. He doesn't want to be that guy who just knows that he is the better of the two when he faces someone..."
He slightly shakes his head.
There's always a 'but' isn't there?
"..when you book someone with the.. abilities.. such as Dick Fury.. the history and prestige... against a kitten hugging, food serving, vocalist who kisses his grandma on the cheek before putting on twenty nicknames and heading out the door to pretend he's a tough guy..."
Dick pauses, actually scoffing this time.
".. it's kind of hard for Dick to take him seriously. And Dick knows a thing or two about taking things hard..."
"Wait. That doesn't sound right, does it?"
He replays the sentence quietly to himself a few times.
"The magic of video editing will need be used here."
Fury re-positions himself and continues.
"To The King of Extreme... The Executioner... Logan... It doesn't matter what you decide to call yourself Daniel Lewis, all signs point the same direction.."
"That when it's all said and done.. when you have tried to take Dick on but realized how hard that would be.. when your body has hit the canvas and your pinned down by Dick..."
He leans in.
"You will then known what it is like to have felt..."
Leans in even more.
".. the Fury..."
Dick waits for a moment and then heads forward, shutting the camera off.
"Well, that was a shit show."
Shrugging, he thinks to himself how he needs to edit the video and post it later.
"What a joke."
Dick begins to head toward the door, but stops.
"Just can't do it. That was terrible."
He turns around and heads back, turning the camera back on and clicking record again before reclaiming his place in front of the backdrop. Fury doesn't bother with repositioning himself, or getting into 'Dick mode' as he likes to call it. He just begins to go.
Just saying his name leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
"Don't bother even showing up Saturday. Stay at home with your thoughts of rainbows and unicorns and everything pleasant cause Dick doesn't play this tough guy bullshit that you are trying to spew."
He grows more aggravated.
"You want to call yourself King of Extreme.. The Executioner... fine. But Dick will not stand for you calling yourself a world class caterer!"
Wait.. what? That took a weird turn.
"You catered for Dick once back in 2016 and it was fucking terrible. The shrimp cocktail was warm and the lobster cold. How fucking dare you try to pass peas as capers on the cod. DICK KNOWS CAPERS AND THOSE WERE NO FUCKING CAPERS!"
His heart beat is elevated, his breath shortened.
"Do yourself a favor and just call it quits now. Cause just like that make believe shit Dick just came up with about you ever catering for him.."
"..you're full of shit too. From the info provided by the FWF.. the official information source... Dick can tell about you everything he needs to know."
He uses his fingers as he list items, pointing at them one by one.
"You obviously have no business in a pro wrestling ring."
"Dick is pretty sure you've never been properly trained as your bio reads like a second grader shit a crayon out on the class guinea pig."
"And lastly.. you haven't seen extreme until you've stepped into the ring with Dick.. fucking.. Fury."
Pointing to the third finger, he bends it and the first, leaving only his middle one up for a moment.
"See you at Pandemonium dip shit."
Dick walks out of the scene and through the door, forgetting to stop the recording. If only he had paid attention he would have realized that instead of 'record' he clicked 'stream' both times and that his unedited, unfiltered message had been delivered to the world and is already racking up comments with the views. He probably would have also seen later when he went back to edit, that wearing a green shirt in front of a green screen tends to make you look ridiculous your chest and torso is missing. But Dick doesn't care about the details or ensuring that they are perfect.
Why bother with trying to be professional or at least legible?
Because looking at the run down sheet for Daniel Lewis it's abso-fucking-lutely obvious no one else cares about those types of details. If they did, his inquiry about the FWF would have never made it out of the File 13 pile.
Fuck it though. Saturday will come faster than Daniel's mom when she's riding Dick, and he'll be out the door and onto other places, embarrassed at the loss to Fury when all he wanted to do was be taken seriously.
No one is ever going to take you seriously Daniel. You could type a letter to the whole roster and use every color in the rainbow, and even the other simpletons won't buy for one section you're a threat.. or that you were ever a good vocalist.. or ever a world class caterer...
Ugh. Just repeating that makes me feel nauseated and I'm just the narrator.
... or some shit like that.
"I NEED CHEESEBURGERS"
- Kentucky Tarzan