*Steamboat Ricky sits in the rWo's private dressing room before the MD/AS Supershow. He sits by himself, looking into the oversized mirror. He spins the compass on his Real World Heavyweight Championship Belt. He spins it some more...and some more...round and round it goes...round....and round....it goes. Ricky is not in the peppiest of moods, it seems as though something has him down. Then all of a sudden, a voice comes from the mirror.*
Look at you...
Wh....what? Wh...what are you doing here?
*Ricky looks up and he sees himself talking from the mirror.*
Face Ricky: I'm always here. I'm part of you...whether you like it or not.
Present Ricky: Nobody wants you here...you're history, bra.
Sure, nobody wants me in here...but they want me out there...to bring grog to the kids before the match...to hand out toy steamboats and talk smack to El Guerrero. The fans love me. We used to be about the fans, Ricky. About doing what was right, honest, and good. Now look at us.
Hey, man. I had to do what had to be done, brother. Pleasing the fans wasn't getting me anywhere.
So you sacrificed all of your morals…everything you believed in…for what? What hadn’t we already accomplished in this business? Look at the record books! Who has held more titles than any other person in WZCW history?
Steamboat Ricky.
Who was the first EVER WZCW King for a Day?
Steamboat Ricky.
Invented the Mayhem division?
Ibid.
We’ve done it all. Why would you do that?
BECAUSE MAYBE I HAD TO! Maybe I didn’t have a choice. You lost your edge, brother!
Lost my edge? I won the WZCW Heavyweight Title…with the help of alllll of them!
Yeah, but then you lost it dude. LOST IT.
We were going to get it back! It was only one loss. We’ve made a career out of bouncing back!
MAYBE I DIDN’T THINK WE HAD WHAT IT TOOK ANYMORE, MAN!
*Present Ricky looks around to see if anyone is looking.*
-whispers-Maybe I felt like I needed a little help, brother.
More help than all of them?
What’s done is done. There’s no going back now.
You can always go home, Ricky.
*Present Ricky throws a chair at the mirror and it shatters into thousands of pieces, many falling to the floor. Ricky then stands over the pieces of broken glass and looks at them with an intense glare.*
I am home. Long live Ricky. Long live the rWo.
*Ricky grabs the REAL World Heavyweight Championship, throws it over his shoulder and begins to walk out of his dressing room. As he walks out of the room, we see that his rWo shirt is not tucked in his tights. Out from the bottom of the shirt, a red plaid piece of fabric sticks out.*