(On the night of the show, before the show has gone on live.)
The lights flicker and Davids is stood in the centre of the ring walking around the ring looking at all of the ice that is prepared for all of the odd matches that are set for the night ahead. Steve is suited up and he grins. He looks around at the crowd, and most of them are cheering but it seems as though Steve plans on changing that immediately. Steve speaks in jest, he is less serious that usual.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?! This place is even worse than fucking Canada. Seriously though, a winter Olympics themed show? What genius has come up with that? No body gives a shit about the winter Olympics. Winning a winter Olympics medal is like being baked cookies by someone with herpes. Jesus Christ, and how is things over here anyway? Is it all still very rapey and perverted for no apparent reason? Things did get really kinky over here though didn't they, underground sex dungeons all over the place. I just find it even stranger that Vladmir Putin is the one running half of these brothels. Some of these birds are even more hideous than the infamous Rose Smith and that truly is saying something.”
The crowd are no longer cheering. The reluctant cheers have changed to passionate jeers. Steve usually sets out to be liked but he clearly is not impressed with his surroundings.
“We're out here in the fucking sticks and the shitty ice and I am expected to put on a show for a load of people who I couldn't care less about. I mean seriously, things were so much better when Khrushchev was close to bombing the shit out of the United States and Kennedy was on the verge of bombing the shit out of Russia. It's a shame that it's more than likely the whole planet would have died really because you have to wonder just how much fucking better this planet would be without the Earth's Hitler... Although if we're going for psychotic dictators I suppose now would be more of an appropriate time to run with Stalin right? Right. Why is it all Russians sound like the vampire from fucking sesame street as well. One dead polish man ahaha. Two dead polish men ahaha. Yeah that's too far. Gotta draw that line there.”
The crowd are really booing now and Davids is simply laughing. He's loving it and just continues to walk around the ring with the X-treme Championship over his shoulder.
“Please, please. Forgive me if I have taken things too far there, us Brits are renowned for a dark sense of humour whereas... Well let's just say the Russian's aren't exactly known for their comedy now are they? Tri Bute loves his comedy I am sure but he won't be making a laughing stock out of Steve Davids. He's going to get future destroed. Anyway, I am bored of you people. See you later, ass holes.”
Davids smirks, and drops the microphone casually. Many jeers continue to be shouted towards him but Steve simply shrugs them off and continues to head up the ramp and to his backstage locker room where he find Stewart sitting in a chair just shaking his head at Steve. The old man stands up, wearing casual jeans and a grey shirt, and he looks at Steve with a puzzled expression on the face. Neither one of them say anything, Steve sits on the black leather sofa still suited and grasps the X-Treme Championship tight. He looks down at the belt that glistens in the light. Eventually, Steve speaks but his eyes remain fixed on the gold.
“You know Stewart, if I defeat Tri Bute here tonight then I can make a real name for myself. You see, Shawn Michaels once said: it's not the belt that makes the man, it's the man that makes the belt. Now that idiot said a lot of daft shit in his time but that is one thing that I truly believe. This week is going to be the week that I will be remembered for. This is the week where I could just be another name in history or I could become a name that no one will ever forget. I plan on making that happen. This championship will be worth something once more.”
“I am sure it will be, Steve. Honestly though, why did you feel the need to go out there and ridicule Russia like that? You've made yourself an enemy for the evening, but why?”
“Do you think I need these people on my side? Tonight, I prove that Steve Davids alone can make this Championship mean something once more. I do not avoid battles and I do not skip fights. I was lucky, indeed, that Morbid Angel wanted non-title match against me last week. He will of course regret that though you see this week I will hold a briefcase AND a championship. This belt means something once more, it is no longer passed about like a city whore from the Netherlands. You see though Stewart, I am of the opinion that this championship is worth more than others believe. You see Stewart, people don't understand what this belt means. It means that if you are skilled and talented enough to hold it for six weeks that you get the opportunity to hold a 24/7 briefcase. It means just that, OPPORTUNITY. Every single champion will have to look out for me all of the time and yet I will still be looking out for everyone else to defend this bad boy. It means more than anything else now could, it is the only thing that can replace the ones I once loved.”
“You are a foolish man Steve. To put so much love into an object is foolish, whether you choose to admit it or not. You'll find someone else in your life, everyone always does.”
“I'm not like everyone.”
“That much might be true, but this is a universal truth I am afraid.”
“It doesn't matter. What matters is getting that briefcase and holding on to this damn belt.”
Davids looks up at Stewart and nods, smiling. The shot fades.
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