The Man
The Myth
The Legend
Your Undisputed Falconer Champion
Jim "The Icon" Daher

(Unbelievable. Thurston is presented with the complete, unabridged, true story about the life of his opponent, Jim "The Icon" Daher, and he still has the audacity to claim that the whole story was a complete lie, attempting to back up his claim with even more false information from his group of paid actors. I'm just curious about The Icon's reaction to this. Let's look in.)

(The scene opens up at the Desoto Village Park in Horn Lake, Mississippi. A red sand box sits on the ground nearby, with a swing set near that, and a big baseball field nearby, a little league game in progress on the field. Seated on a swinging, turquoise-colord park bench is the GWA's own Jim "The Icon" Daher, the GWA Falconer Title belt folded up neatly and laying beside him on the bench. The Icon is not swinging in the bench, but is instead leaning back in the seat, his two index fingers raised and pressed together in steeple formation while an expression of deep thought resides on his features. Eventually, he takes in a breath and speaks, the serious, thoughtful expression never leaving his face.)

Jim "The Icon" Daher: Once again, I find myself in...somewhat less than a good mood. The reason for this? The slanderous lies being perpetrated against me by one Thurston Edward Marshall III. I have presented to him and the entire world the complete, unabridged, true story of my life to this point, yet he still has the audacity to claim that my entire story was just that...a story, and an exceedingly boring one at that. However, his only back-up for this claim was to bring in yet another of his so-called "sources," the integrity of whom I have already called into question by asserting that they would more properly be referred to as "paid actors" rather than as "sources". Thus, in order to put this matter to rest for good, I took a good, long, hard look at the all the fine print of the GWA contracts. It states simply that anything which happens within the confines of a GWA arena is completely and absolutely legal, however moral or immoral it may be. But in this sentence, you will notice one small, tiny, insignificant little loophole that not many people notice: the phrase "within the confines of a GWA arena". As I'm sure you astute GWA fans have noticed, Thurston's supposed documentary has each time occured outside the confines of a GWA arena, and is therefore subject to all the laws and legal penalties inherent in the United States Judicial System. Thurston, I tried to ask you nicely, but you wouldn't listen, so I am forced to resort to this wimpy, though nearly always successful, tactic: If you do not cease and decist your supposed documentary on what is clearly not my true past and use other means to try to get under my skin, then I will be forced to drag you into court, where you will answer to charges of slander and defamation of character, as will your gang of paid actors. And Thurston, rich or not, you will lose, for I can easily obtain testimony from everyone that was a resident of Horn Lake, Mississippi, between 1981 and 1997, as well as everyone I've met during my stay in Memphis between 1997 and the present. You have only your word to back you up, the integrity of which has already been placed in high doubt. And for the record, that house you were at...was not my family's residence in Horn Lake. One more word, Thurston. One more slanderous word, and you'll earn yourself a court date and a battle that you cannot win. And I just dare you to say I won't do it. I really don't want to resort to the legal system, but if you force the issue, I will. And besides! You've got a 162 IQ, or so I'm told. I'm sure a smart lad like yourself can come up with some other, more original means to get to me.

(He chuckles, satisfied, as the old confident smirk reappears on his face.)

The Icon: And what about the other man in this equation, Azra'il Rosuto? Well, I hear Fury's thinkin' about takin' ol' Azzy outta the match, leavin' it just me and Thurston. Hell, that'd suit me just fine, especially if the hardcore stipulation is kept in the match. That means I would be free to break Thurston's scrawny little neck in any manner I desire without having to keep Azra'il Rosuto out of my business and splitting my concentration two ways. You see, Azra'il, I got nothin' against you. You seem to be an all right guy. You just happen to suck ass as a wrestler. Thurston, on the other hand, has managed to do something that no one in this company has dared to even try to do since GWA To The Max: He pissed me the hell off. And how'd he do that? By spreading lies about my past and thus making it...personal. This is more than just a simple Falconer Title defense. This is a matter of instilling respect...and fear. I don't care if I win or lose this Wednesday. I'm not comin' to win, Thurston. I'm comin' to beat your monkey ass from here to Cancun and back again! This match will not stop at a simple pinfall or submission. This match will stop only when you can't even breathe on your own anymore. This match will stop only when I leave you crippled forevermore. This match will only stop when I, as Johnny Storm often said, leave you face down, ass-up...in a pool of your own f*cking blood. I'll see you this Wednesday, Thurston, so make out your Last Will and Testament...and have a nice FRICKIN' day.

(With that, The Icon stands, scooping up the Falconer Title belt on the way up. He makes his way to his 'Vette and gets in, then backs out of the little cove and roars on down the street. The scene then slowly fades to black.)

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