Post by Fiona McFly on Dec 7, 2016 2:27:36 GMT
~DISCLAIMER: The opinions/statements expressed in this segment DO NOT in any way, shape, or form reflect the views of the writer of this seg, IWF, or its fellow handlers.~
WARNING: This segment contains strong language which may not be suitable for a family audience. Parental and viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised.
{ Thirty minutes after Sacrifice went off the air, we find ourselves deep within the corridors of Raleigh's PNC Arena. Our Fallout camera stops just outside the locker room that is normally used by the ACC's North Carolina State men's basketball program; we see that the door is partially opened. Upon entering the locker room, we see a pair of gentlemen wearing black suits, one heavyset, bald-headed man and another slimmer-looking man with slicked-back black hair, sitting on a bench like frozen statues. We then see Fiona McFly standing tall above them, her face beet-red and her hair frazzled beyond recognition, ready to lose her normally mild-mannered temperament. }
Fiona McFly: ...I could fucking care less if I get sacked or not, but I'm going to tell you two "gentlemen" one fucking thing...I hope I get fucking hotter than shite, just to stuff it down the fucking throats of youse people whose sole purpose in life is to objectify the women in this gig as some fucking sick form of wank-banking material, not a professional athlete.
{ Fiona paces around the room, getting into the men's faces while folding her arms in disgust. }
Fiona McFly: I did the fucking job for you because I fucking love this fucking profession, because it was my fucking duty to see it through to its conclusion, but don't you EVER come back at me when I'm shouting at you through the fucking crowd that pays to see people like MYSELF perform and not act like some fucking slut out there for show. 'Cause as far as you two blokes are concerned, I'm going to keep on performing my fucking craft 'til I'm told otherwise by the...
{ The ex-Badger clears her throat, not keeping an eye off the suits on the bench for a second. }
Fiona McFly: ...the fucking circus upstairs! 'Cause if I EVER have to fucking take part in another degrading match like the bra-and-panties variety, or ANY other type that tries to fucking capitalise on a fucking accident that could have easily have happened to Miss Sawyer, or your own wife or whatever, instead of me, without consulting me OR an opponent I work with, then the whole lot of you in the brass will fucking hear from my fucking attorney! And given how I'm fucking feeling now I'm seriously considering giving the whole fucking lot up there fortnight's notice and bringing you to court, because that clusterfuck was the straw the broke the camel's back, and so long as I'm in this locker room, so long as the OTHER Diamonds are in this locker room, I will NOT tolerate or stand for it any longer--full stop.
{ Fiona scowled as she took a quick swig from her favorite drink of choice before getting back into the faces of the suits. The two men look absolutely bewildered at the sight in front of them as they continue to experience the Diamond's wrath. }
Fiona McFly: But since you two are so fucking uptight, so fucking intent about trying to degrade the value of women's grappling and its participants instead of giving them the proper respect they deserve--especially considering the new talent coming into the fucking company, to which I will GLADLY put them over to give them lots of credibility because I care DEEPLY about this organisation. And the fucking reason I fucking care--buzzword, lovelies--is called "loyalty." Loyalty to my chosen profession means more to me now than you'll EVER fucking realse now that Jack's retired--and I partly blame youse for the shite I had to see him go through every fucking week, just for the sake of entertainment.
{ Fiona angrily points her right index finger at both men. }
Fiona McFly: So you, ya little cunt, when you've got some crazy idea to push my way you ask me first, and you, ya fat-arsed cunt, when you've got the same idea as the other bloke you do the same thing. If I've got some crackpot whopper of an idea that would help me out as a performer I'd send it your way, and I'd expect the same fucking courtesy from you whenever you've got something that would make me more believable. But if you EVER pull another stunt like the one you pulled, I'll take the lot of you straight to fucking court--where you can fucking pair up if you like--and when I'm through with you, you'll be begging somebody else for money so you can buy a bunch of cans of Spaghetti-O's from the fucking grocer. I'll see you two "darlings" in a fortnight, where we better NOT have this fucking discussion again.
{ Quickly turning around, Fiona storms out of the dressing area, slamming the door shut behind her. We hear a faint audio pick-up of the cameraman saying "daaaaamn, she's lost her Vulcan mind," followed by a slight chuckle, as we cut to black. }