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

(Well, isn't that lovely? Caprice wants to get into a game of "Let's Insult the Other Person's Home"! Oh, when will they ever learn? And what about Charlie Dream? He pulls off a lucky win at EOI, and now all of a sudden he seems to think his sh*t don't stink. Sorry, buster, that bird don't fly with The Icon. And speaking of The Icon, what exactly does he have to say about everything that's been said so far? Well, as Shawn Stasiak once said, "Shut up, listen, and learn.")

(As your TV flickers to life, the only visual you're treated to is a plain, black screen. Eventually, the sound of one pair of hands clapping is heard. As the picture fades in, we find ourselves focused on Jim "The Icon" Daher. The Icon has the Falconer Title belt slung over his left shoulder, and he's currently offering up a round of mock applause, a smile spread across his face. He stops applauding, then chuckles and speaks.)

Jim "The Icon" Daher: Bravo, Caprice! In one fell swoop, you managed to bring yourself down from the level of worthy competitor...to laughable footnote. I gotta say, I never thought you would stoop to the level of insulting and berating my home town. However, Miss DeLioncourte, if that's the game you wanna play...then let's play.

(The camera zooms out, revealing the setting: a classroom at Wooddale High School in Memphis, Tennessee. Judging from the pull-down maps over the blackboard, I'd say this classroom usually houses a World Geography class. The Icon walks over to the blackboard and reaches up to the maps, then pulls down a map of...)

The Icon: Australia. World reknowned for being the most laid-back country on the face of the Earth. All right, Caprice, you wanted to make fun of my home? Fine. Let's make fun of yours. Now, first, let me say this. I have nothing at all against the Australian people. In fact, some of my best friends are Aussies. Come to think of it, you're the first Aussie I've met that I didn't immediately like. But I digress. Okay, back to the point: my home vs. your home. You actually had the testic...ovarialogical fortitude to call my home town, ahh...what were your words? Oh, yeah. You called it a "filthy backwards-ass pisshole". Coming from you, I just have to laugh. You wanna talk about homes that are backwards? Let's look at yours. First, the whole country started as a prison camp for Great Britain, so right there ya got one strike in the books. Second, half the freakin' continent is plain desert, or "The Outback" as you Aussies call it. That makes half the place undesirable for living, and that makes strike two. Now, ya wanna know what strike three is? Just take a look at the general populace, a nice little mixture of ingredients. Start with all the stereotypes and cliches about the southeastern United States. Throw in a generous helping of laziness. Stir in a warped British accent, then drown in beer and serve. Presto! Strike three, Caprice. Congratulations, 'cause you happen to hail from a place that makes "The Beverly Hillbillies" look like "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous". Aren't you just eaten up with pride?

(The Icon chuckles, then tugs down on the map and releases it, letting it spring back into place with the rest of the maps. He then pulls down a second map, this one of the city of Memphis, Tennessee. He clears his throat, then continues his speech. Or lesson, if you prefer that term.)

The Icon: Now, then, continuing this little lesson. Memphis, Tennessee. Population as of the 2000 Census: 650,100 people. Not large by New York or L.A. standards, but still very much a bustling metropolis. Highways, interstates, expressways, skyscrapers, factories, apartment complexes, businesses, houses, motels, hotels...ah, hotels. Are you familiar with the Peabody? What's it, like a 4 or 5-star hotel? Yeah, that's in Memphis. And guess what? We even have our own professional sports team! Or haven't you heard of the Memphis Grizzlies? And what about our entertainment and landmarks? Graceland, the Memphis Zoo, the Pink Palace Museum of Memphis, Beale Street, the Pyramid, the list goes on and on. What's Australia got? An opera house and some weird animals? Yes, I'm proud to call Memphis my home. Oh, and since you decided it'd be fun to pick on that little kid, I'm gonna make sure you don't consider it "fun" anymore...by takin' your actions right outta your ass! And no, I'm not trying to be intimidating. I'm simply telling you a few facts. FACT! It's quite clear by the evidence that however backwards Memphis may be, it's backwardness absolutely pales in comparison to how backwards your homeland is. FACT! You don't stand a snowball's chance in hell of taking my Falconer Title away from me, not because you're a woman and I'm a man, but because however good you may be, I am simply...better. And FACT! Unless you intend to live the rest of your life in the hospital with a crushing loss to yours truly as your only thing to think about, then you would probably be well advised to consider changing your name and moving to Zanzibar. You offend me, Caprice, and your name's leavin' a foul taste in my mouth, so I'm moving on to someone marginally more important, Charlie Dream.

(The Icon lets the map of Memphis up, then moves behind the podium and bends forward, resting his forearms against it. He chuckles, then resumes speaking.)

The Icon: Ah, Charlie Dream. Charlie, let me introduce two words into your vocabulary: beginner's luck. Yes, you heard me. Your win at End of Innocence was a fluke, and it means absolutely nothing. A bit cliche, I know, but true nonetheless. I'm curious, Chuck. Mind if I call you Chuck? Great. Anyway. I'm wondering...has it ever occured to you to ask why I'm still the Falconer Champion after winning the belt at Avalanche on November 28th? No, it's not because of pitiful competition, so throw that out as a possible answer. And no, it's not because I haven't defended it often, because the same day I won it, I laid out an open challenge to defend my belt anywhere, anytime, against anyone, in any kind of match. So you can throw that out as a possible answer as well. What answer does that leave? The one no one around here wants to admit: that no matter how much you'd like everyone to believe otherwise, I really am the best Falconer on the planet, and this belt resting here on my shoulder proves it. Every Falconer that's openly disrespected me, I've destroyed. Kasey Chambers? Bounced on out to another federation as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Thurston Edward Marshall III? Beat him twice. Ryosuke Mitsurugi? Dumped him off the rafters, ending his career. Jack Otis? Beat him in a TLC Match to win my first Falconer Title. The list goes on and on. Chuck, you should be happy. You're about to be added to a very prestigious list: Falconers That Were Taught Not to Disrespect The Icon. Straighten up, son. You're about to become famous...because you're about to be given the privilege of losing to the man, the myth, the legend, the only Falconer that matters, the summation of every man's aspirations, and the object of your girlfriend's masturbations, I'm talkin' about your hero and role model, the undisputed Falconer Champion, Jim "The Icon" Daher.

(The Icon smiles, then straightens up and heads for the door, he opens it, then stops in the doorway. He turns slightly, looking at the camera with a serious expression on his face for the first time during this interview.)

The Icon: A word of advice. Don't f*ck with an Icon, 'cause all you'll get in return...is a one-way ticket to the Intensive Care Ward. I'll see you both later, so make sure your Wills are up-to-date...and have a nice FRICKIN' day.

(The Icon smiles, then turns and leaves the classroom, shutting the door behind him. The scene fades to black, then to an advertisement about GWA Wednesday Insurrection.)

If this Roleplay is above average, Click the logo Above.