Post by Fiona McFly on Jun 1, 2015 13:54:52 GMT
As I head into Maryland, I'm having a wide range of feelings.
Yet coming into the biggest night of the Imperial world, I realise that it is best to throw everything off to the side and concentrate on one thing: ending on the longest championship reigns in IWF. I understand that there's a rush to competing in front of 90,000 strong that is unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I can't let the butterflies of the moment get the best of me. Despite the shenanigans of certain elements worth of haters, I have managed to prove everyone wrong.
This is what I was born to do.
**********
Yet coming into the biggest night of the Imperial world, I realise that it is best to throw everything off to the side and concentrate on one thing: ending on the longest championship reigns in IWF. I understand that there's a rush to competing in front of 90,000 strong that is unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I can't let the butterflies of the moment get the best of me. Despite the shenanigans of certain elements worth of haters, I have managed to prove everyone wrong.
This is what I was born to do.
**********
Episode VIII
WHAT YOU LEAVE BEHIND
WHAT YOU LEAVE BEHIND
April 15, 2001 – 1:00 PM
DR. THOMAS ANDERSON: Do I have a motion for reconsideration?
We find ourselves inside a ballroom that's been transformed into a makeshift conference room. At a table on the northern side, we find nine people--mostly older--sporting a wide range of multi-colored business outfits--debating amongst themselves.
DR. ANDERSON: I'm sorry, but unless there is a motion and a second, the decision must stand.
The group's leader, a 65-year-old named Thomas Anderson, solemnly shakes his head as Dr. Peter Wilkins, the 60-year-old administrator of the test that bears his family's name, ekes out a sly grin as he looks toward Fiona McFly, who we find sitting at a smaller table with Angie Johnson and academic advisor Dr. Patrick Stewart. Fiona solemnly shakes her head, for she has apparently lost her claim with the Board of Inquiry; yet the troika confers among themselves before coming to a decision.
FIONA MCFLY: I'm afraid you leave me no choice but to bring in my attorney.
Entering from the back of the room, we see another figure--a man sporting a white suit with matching tie along with a receding hairline--stepping into the picture. Angie grins from ear to ear as she whispers toward her girlfriend.
ANGIE JOHNSON: That's my dad.
The attorney, wearing a small nametag that reads "D. JOHNSON," steps up to the front of the room and asks for some documents, which the Board gives him. One of those documents is Fiona's original WIA scores.
MR. DON JOHNSON: Dr. Anderson, as counsel for Ms. Fiona McFly, I'm here today to set forth your legal options so that you can make the best possible decision for all parties concerned.
DR. ANDERSON: Mr. Johnson...this isn't a legal proceeding.
MR. JOHNSON: I know that, but I can assure you it will be real soon.
The lawyer slowly walks around the room, holding the WIA brochure up high.
MR. JOHNSON: For generations, the Wilkins International Assessment has challenged and motivated students to do their absolute finest under the most stressful conditions. To most, it is the ultimate “no-win scenario”--a living hell that has tested the patience of takers from all over the globe. To those who've passed it, the reward is beyond their scope of imagination.
The Irishwoman smirks as she watches Angie's father pull out her test scores, which were invalidated on cheating allegations the previous day.
MR. JOHNSON: But this exam is also a binding contract upon the signature of its taker—an acceptance by Ms. McFly. The scores that she received cannot be voided without cause which I GUARANTEE you have none. Should you decide to pursue their cancellation, I will slap you with an injunction and tie this matter up in court for years—until long after this young lady starts enjoying her life.
Don slams the documents down on the Board's table, looking into the eyes of each member.
MR. JOHNSON: And I will collect damages. I will win, and do you want to know why? 'Cause I'm very, very good. Why's that, you might ask? I had a good education—you gave it to me. And you're gonna do the same for Ms. McFly.
Fiona, sporting her academic outfit, smiles as she whispers into Angie's ear.
FIONA: Your father's good...
ANGIE: Oh, he's just getting' warmed up hun...
Mr. Johnson walks back to Fiona's table.
MR. JOHNSON: Now some of you in here might be arrogantly snobbish enough to believe that Americans are far superior to foreigners when it comes to the world of academia. If that was the case, then why don't at least 47 percent of American folks know the words to our own national anthem? The point is real simple: you are dead wrong.
Dr. Wilkins can only muster a facepalm as Fiona's counsel points directly at him.
MR. JOHNSON: You want to talk about bringing in the best minds from all over? Well...there's a bright young lady who sits in this room that can put each and every one of you on this board to shame.
Dr. Stewart, sitting alongside Fiona and Angie, whispers into the former's ear.
DR. PATRICK STEWART: I taught him everything there is to know about ethics...
FIONA: I can see that—he is that good.
Mr. Johnson points out the aging academic sitting between the two ladies.
MR. JOHNSON: A long time ago, there was a man from across the pond who also beat the no-win scenario, and he sits in this room as well. Unfortunately certain elements managed to get away with foreign discrimination sity years ago because there was a war going on, but you won't get away with it now—not in the 21st century. Therefore...I demand that you reinstate Ms. McFly's WIA scores—not just for her benefit, but for yours as well.
The Inquiry Board takes a few moments to confer amongst themselves, knowing full well that what they do in the here and now could potentially lead them to a long and drawn out process in the courtroom. Realizing they have very little choice, a woman--whose nameplate reads "DR. MARGERET REAGAN," speaks up.
DR. MARGERET REAGAN: I move that Ms. Fiona McFly's Wilkins scores be reinstated.
DR. ANDERSON: Is there a second?
An African-American male on the nine-person board raises his hand, causing a murmur within the packed ballroom.
DR. ANDERSON: All in favor?
As someone whispers "well, we have no choice," the other Board members raise their hands including Dr. Wilkins, who sheepishly raises his hand--if only in an effort to protect his own image rather than risk his family's reputation.
DR. ANDERSON: Ms. McFly's WIA scores reinstated.
The room breaks out into cheers and applause, but Fiona can only take in the moment to simply sigh in reflief instead of joining in on the cheers. Angie quickly scurries off to meet her dad as the ballroom quickly empties out, leaving Fiona with Dr. Stewart, who proudly nods his head.
DR. STEWART: It's all settled now.
FIONA: I know, and I'm very happy that they did this. On a side not, I'm going to take the Ethics course next year.
DR. STEWART: I'm very pleased to hear you say that—except I won't be teaching it. I'm retiring after spring finals.
Fiona gasps, raisiing her eyebrows as the old professor gently pats her on the shoulder.
DR. STEWART: If I may say something: if your new adviser insists that you should not reach for higher things than what you're given...
FIONA: Ignore him. I intend to.
The two people clasp their hands together in a professional handshake.
FIONA: It has been an honour to work with you.
Fiona watches as Dr. Stewart makes his exit, but not before the Englishman turns out, eliciting a slight wink.
DR. STEWART: The honour was mine.
**********
I hope, for my own sake, I come up with the right words to say as I get closer and closer to traveling to Landover.
Ms. Everett, there is a part of me that thinks that you hardly care about who you're going up against for the Ruby Championship. There's that inkling in my very soul that tells me that your “whatever” attitude towards your longest reign comes about as a result of a certain lack of competition that exists within the division itself. There's a little slice of my heart that's telling me that, for all intensive purposes, you've lost your way just becamse you've held onto said trophy for longer than anyone else, but you know what? That would be a major mistake on my part.
I would be wrong—dead wrong.
In fact, you're better than that.
You really DO care about that Ruby Championship, and you really DO care that you've managed to last longer than anyone else despite being forced to “share” with Ms. Hilton at some point in time, and you know what darling...that is a very admirable thing. Yet there's a big problem that you have yet to realise: you act as if you're immortal—that you have no rival, that no one can be your equal. And you would be wrong. You see, you might be very intelligent, but so am I. In the sporting world, nothing is "a typical day at the office"--things tend to happen when you least expect them to, even in the most mundane of situations. Think of it as a chess match, where we match each others wits move from move until two possible outcomes happen.
We'll either have ourselves a stalemate.
Or somebody makes the right move and garners “checkmate.”
And as someone dear to me would say, I prefer door number two.
Nothing lasts forever, no matter how you might spin things to suit your fantastical needs. Look at Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, as an example. She has served on the throne of the United Kingdom since 6 February 1952—over sixty years—but eventually, someone else will ascend to the throne whilst she fades into history's brightest memories. Then the next person will take over, and so on and so forth. That is not grandstanding, love.
It is simply a mere fact of life—you cannot escape it, no matter what you have to say.
Your Ruby Championship reign, no matter how long it has lasted, will be coming to a crashing end before you know it. After all, you can talk about “saving” the Ruby Championshiip scenario from its own short-sightedness, but you haven't beaten everyone yet. You haven't beaten me; in fact, you don't even realise that I am fully capable of holding my own out there on the Imperial world's biggest stage—no matter how things turn out. You may be driven to compete, but so am I. You can try as you might to use any means at your disposal to get what you want, and I welcome it wholeheartedly. In the end, however, you will learn very quickly that I didn't bitch or moan for anything—that I earned this standing, and whether the doubters like it or not, I shall capitalise on this chance of a lifetime and take the entire IWF to places it has never been.
After all, Firenze my sweetheart, nothing will last forever—not on my watch.
I guarantee it.
I hope, for my own sake, I come up with the right words to say as I get closer and closer to traveling to Landover.
Ms. Everett, there is a part of me that thinks that you hardly care about who you're going up against for the Ruby Championship. There's that inkling in my very soul that tells me that your “whatever” attitude towards your longest reign comes about as a result of a certain lack of competition that exists within the division itself. There's a little slice of my heart that's telling me that, for all intensive purposes, you've lost your way just becamse you've held onto said trophy for longer than anyone else, but you know what? That would be a major mistake on my part.
I would be wrong—dead wrong.
In fact, you're better than that.
You really DO care about that Ruby Championship, and you really DO care that you've managed to last longer than anyone else despite being forced to “share” with Ms. Hilton at some point in time, and you know what darling...that is a very admirable thing. Yet there's a big problem that you have yet to realise: you act as if you're immortal—that you have no rival, that no one can be your equal. And you would be wrong. You see, you might be very intelligent, but so am I. In the sporting world, nothing is "a typical day at the office"--things tend to happen when you least expect them to, even in the most mundane of situations. Think of it as a chess match, where we match each others wits move from move until two possible outcomes happen.
We'll either have ourselves a stalemate.
Or somebody makes the right move and garners “checkmate.”
And as someone dear to me would say, I prefer door number two.
Nothing lasts forever, no matter how you might spin things to suit your fantastical needs. Look at Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, as an example. She has served on the throne of the United Kingdom since 6 February 1952—over sixty years—but eventually, someone else will ascend to the throne whilst she fades into history's brightest memories. Then the next person will take over, and so on and so forth. That is not grandstanding, love.
It is simply a mere fact of life—you cannot escape it, no matter what you have to say.
Your Ruby Championship reign, no matter how long it has lasted, will be coming to a crashing end before you know it. After all, you can talk about “saving” the Ruby Championshiip scenario from its own short-sightedness, but you haven't beaten everyone yet. You haven't beaten me; in fact, you don't even realise that I am fully capable of holding my own out there on the Imperial world's biggest stage—no matter how things turn out. You may be driven to compete, but so am I. You can try as you might to use any means at your disposal to get what you want, and I welcome it wholeheartedly. In the end, however, you will learn very quickly that I didn't bitch or moan for anything—that I earned this standing, and whether the doubters like it or not, I shall capitalise on this chance of a lifetime and take the entire IWF to places it has never been.
After all, Firenze my sweetheart, nothing will last forever—not on my watch.
I guarantee it.
Well howdy there pardner.