Ijitu Quartz, after entering the ring, grabbing a mic and quickly removing his PRISTINE SUNGLASSES and placing them in the corner of the ring, brings the mic to his face and holds it there, before lowering it again to the appluase.
The crowd's pop has changed from angry chanting 7 weeks ago. The OCW Universe applauds the Riot superstar.
Eventually, after taking it in. Quartz brings his left hand up, still holding the mic, and observes his padded bandages, his hand still injured from the attack 3 weeks prior.
After some time, he twists his wrist, places his smug grin on his face and moves the mic to his face.
Quartz: "What's going on, Madison Square Garden?"
He again lowers the mic to bring in the modest admiration he could not enjoy last time he held a mic inside the ring.
Quartz: "I hope everyone is having a great night here for the Riot after. I know I am, gah' dammit."
Quartz: "After all, I am standing in front of you..."
The arrogant madman stares down at his golden white khakis and around his beaten body.
He shakes his left wrist and left knee before staring into the camera, showing off his less, but still bruised eye.
Quartz: "...as your beaten, bruised, and broken champion."
Quartz: "Sure... I may not have a golden strap to validate me, but I know and YOU know... That I am your champion!"
Quartz continues to admonish the people in the crowd, stammering around the ring, staring into the upper decks, all while grinning ear to ear.
Quartz: "But I couldn't do this alone, you know. I want to thank Dimsmore's ruler, Mr. Jayson Sensation for providing me the opportunity to put on the greatest show in television history for all of you out there."
Quartz: "I want to thank Natoli Joe, for sacrificing himself to the greater good and giving me somewhere to start."
Quartz: "I want to thank Rust Cohle, for making you all believe 500 would be a competitive match."
The crowd pops, as Quartz walks over to the turnbuckle, staring down at Cyborg, enjoying his beer.
The moment is interrupted by yet another sign of gratitude from the proud superstar.
Quartz: "...But most importantly, I want to thank a man who I haven't been completely honest with.
Quartz:
I want to thank a man who has been by me from the start.
Quartz:
I want to acknowledge the man who has led me here, since I was a very young boy."
Quartz grin turns to stone as he lowers the mic once more, revealing his face to be one of focus and anger.
His voice turns from playful to raspy, from lighthearted to determined.
Quartz: "I want to thank someone who I have always counted on. Someone YOU all have taken for granted.
Quartz:
Someone I MYSELF have taken for granted.
Quartz:
The ONLY one that has ever had my back."
Quartz: "You see, some of you might know who this is. Who this person is who has been pushing me from the very start.
Quartz:
Who this person is behind the wild success that is Ijitu Quartz.
Quartz:
I don't think you really understand though.
Quartz:
I don't think anyone really understand how much appreciation this man deserves."
Quartz lowers the mic. The crowd has lost their initial burst and instead stare in confusion.
Quartz looks again around the arena in front of him, a dimmed, quieted arena. The same arena he electrified last week.
Quartz: "I want to thank you right now, and express my eternal gratitude to you for all that you've done to bring me to where I am today."
Quartz: "Ijitu Quartz. Thank you."
The raucous MSG crowd's enthusiasm turns to anger, as boos shower the conceited man standing inside the ring.
Quartz: "Thank you so much. You're the only one in this arena that matters to me, now."
His voice fades as the last few words fall out of his mouth... Suddenly, the look of fire and fury seemingly resets... Quartz still standing in the ring.
His determination and deep voice turns to one of confusion. He blinks a few times to regather his faculties before the same smug grin retakes his beaten face.
He walks over to the corner and collects his PRISTINE SUNGLASSES before placing them back on his face, laughing to himself, and walking back down the ramp, theme playing and hands help high.
The crowd's irritation continues all the way up the ramp. Losing what little they held for him at the nights beginning.
