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| CURRENT RECORD: 4/1/1 |
DATE OF RP: 03/23/03 |
ACCOMPLISHMENT: -Ex-TV Champion- |
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~~When the world we have known has been turned upside down, it's intestines ripped out with a pair of second-rate utensils, covered in tarnish and rust, we know we've been had. We know we've been cheated out of a life promised to us at birth. Birthrights...what we claim as our own...for some it's land, houses, antiques, relics of days gone past in a futile attempt to remind us of our origins...where we've come from, where we're going...and, for others, all we have are the clothes on our back, the blood forcing its way through our veins, the sweat on our brows, and the tears that escape our grasps . We know this, we understand this, and we're willing to use the only thing we have...blood, sweat, tears...to get where we want. These are our birthrights.~~ ~~10. Blip. 9. Blip. 8. Blip. 7. Blip. 6. Blip. Flag. Blip. 4. Blip. 3. Blip. 2. Blip. Indian Head, static.~~ MAGIC: Get the f*** out of my way.
~~There is a loud pop of cheers and cries as we fade from static to solidarity. A grainy film shows us a neon sign hanging on a wall above a steel door:~~ HAVEN
~~And a figure pushing through a crowd of hundreds huddled around that steel door like moths on a streetlamp. Two large men stand at either side of the door, guarding it from under menacing brows and crossed arms. The figure, taller than the rest of the crowd, pushes his way to the front, hands grabbing and clutching his leather trenchcoat, pulling it, trying to take a piece of it. The light of the street glints off the sunglasses of Mike MacDougan, leather pants, button-down black poet shirt, and a string of metal beads around his neck. The two men, the large bouncers, nod to Mike, parting slightly as he opens the door. Mike mumbles under his breath.~~ MAGIC: You people have a f***ing hour until we open...why don't you take your daddy's money, climb into daddy's SUV, and buy yourselves a cup of joe at f***ing Starbucks or something? ~~The crowd lets out another burst of cheering and cries. One girl...22ish or so, decent looking...breaks through the crowd and clings to Mike, trying to kiss him. The bouncers pull the woman off of Mike as he slips in through the door, drowning in an inky sea of darkness tinged with red and pulsing with Ministry's "Psalm 69". The camera follows Mike to the back of the club to a pair of turntables.~~ MAGIC: Never realized that ASW airtime would be a solid investment in advertisement. Tweak, what're we spinning tonight? ~~Mike steps up onto a platform to where Tweak stands with a pair of headphones on his head. Tweak looks up and pulls the headphones off his head, nodding to Mike.~~ TWEAK: I picked up a few new things this afternoon...Halo11...didn't have that one...and some Morbid Angel. I didn't think there were that many kids in all of Oakland...where the hell did they come from? ~~Mike scrunches up his face and then shrugs.~~ MAGIC: Uch...no Morbid Angel tonight. I dunno man...but I have to admit that I've never seen so many rednecks mixed into a club scene before. Guess the advertisement campaign in my promos have kicked things off pretty well. I'm gonna have to thank Rose and Kremlin next time I see them. TWEAK: Whatever man...just make sure your ass is around when the shit hits the fan...theres a good couple hundred screaming and squealing fans of yours trying to get in here. The usuals will stomp them if they don't watch themselves. MAGIC: I'll be in the office...last thing I need is to be sacrificed to the gods of stardom. Those people are viscious...oh, and they may ask you to play some weird shit...like honky-tonk-whatever. I'll allow Johnny Cash, but anything else those freaks want, turn it down. Stick to a set you'd usually do. ~~Tweak cracks a smile.~~ TWEAK: I don't have any of that shit. ~~Mike glances over his shoulder, frowning.~~ MAGIC: ...but I wouldn't doubt some of them brought their own collections... ~~We fade to static as Mike turns from Tweak to a hidden door behind the turntables that winds upward.~~  ~~We fade back into a shot of the office of "HAVEN", the newly-opened MacDougan club. Mike is sitting in the office, alone at one of the couches looking down into the club, holding a glass of a milky-green liquid. The club is a mix of metal, black leather, and mesh ball caps. Strangely enough, there does not seem to be any fights breaking out on the floor. Mike rubs his temples, takes a sip, and sighs. He looks up at the camera.~~ MAGIC: F***ing weird. One day people laugh at me for my profession, the next they're trying to dry-hump my leg because I'm some sort of new golden cow for them to bow down and kiss ass to. Matters of...uh...strangeness...aside, I have a few things I need to talk about. A few things that seem to center around the man ASW calls David Dukes. ~~Mike downs the rest of the glass and then stands up, pacing in front of the window.~~ MAGIC: I had a match the other night...a nice little match that would have made me the TV Champion once again...but...but we had a few problems happen the other night that stopped me from taking my rightful place. We had a few...occurances...that hindered my progress. Yeah, Aztek attacked and laid out Sonny...all well and fine. Hell, I thought it was pretty funny myself...I would think that attacking Sonny like that would be a bad plan, what with the CoB still haunting the halls of the ASW like they do. I guess Aztek has balls...or a severe shortage of brain cells. Whatever...his funeral. But we had another problem...we had the problem of David Dukes deciding that he didn't want to play fair...that he didn't want to do things the way they are normally done. Dukes, that was a grave mistake. ~~Mike pauses as he gazes out across the full club. He speaks over his shoulder.~~ MAGIC: You just couldn't keep your balls in your pants and swallow the fact that I was getting my title shot...the title shot I earned after smacking your sorry ass around the ring. I specifically said that I would not allow anyone...and that meant you and Sonny as well, nitwit...in the ring the other night. I specifically said that, although I only had to pin Douglas, I did not want to have anyone else in that ring besides Douglas, me, and my title. You had to go and break my rule, didn't you? You had to go and f*** it all up. ~~Mike turns around to the camera.~~ MAGIC: I thought I'd be nice...include you and Sonny in my celebration when I put down that horrid and unworthy usurper to my title. I thought I'd be nice and let you stand outside and watch as I was once again crowned ASW Television Champion...stand outside and wag your tongues like the dogs you are. I was trying to be nice, Dukes, and you went against my will and decided to play the part of the chair-toting commando. What did you think you'd accomplish? Did you think that it would have given you another shot at my title? ~~He pauses, looks back out the window and laughs. He turns back around.~~ MAGIC: Well, you may get it...but you're gonna have to go through me first...which means you accomplished exactly one thing from your little steel-fanning incident...you pissed Mike MacDougan off to damn near blowing his top to the point that he's gonna give you another chance at taking his contendor spot away from him. ~~Magic begins to pace in front of the window again, wrenching his hands. Veings begin to start popping out as he clutches his white fists.~~ MAGIC: But if I were you...if I were in your position...I wouldn't be all jumping for joy and kissing babies and shit. You put yourself into a position that is not only dangerous to yourself and your own well-being, but in a position that is dangerous to your fans as well. I lead an army of loyal followers, Dukes. I have a virtual army of dedicated followers who, if I wished them to, would don a uniform of paratropper boots and black BDUs and march like the 4th Reich itself behind me. I'm not going to do that...not yet...but the following is there. They're gonna look around and see someone wearing a David Dukes t-shirt and stomp them like they were a weed. Hell, just swinging that chair over my head the other night made me burn with an anger so strong...so potent and vile...I was like a bull in a ring, staring down a mattidore. I'm ready to explode, buddy, for what you did. I'm ready to cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war on your ass. No one does that shit to a MacDougan and gets away with it. NO ONE! ~~Mike pauses, clears the vein-popping and red-eyed look from his face, and lets a small grin cross his face.~~ MAGIC: That's something that would have came from the mouth of KMD. It's in the blood, Dukes...all of this anger, all of this fury...all of this vengence and a sick and twisted form of justice...it's in the blood. I've told the ASW before, and I'm willing to tell them again...I'm not KMD. I am much, much worse. Where KMD may have came off as a beligerant, blunt as hell SOB with a no-nonsense attitude...a good old boy with a beer in his hand and a steel pipe in the other, blood dribbling down his face and grinning like it was his birthday...I am much worse. I am the beligerant, blunt as hell SOB with a f*** you I'm better than you attitude...an angry, mad as hell, hornets swarming around a broken nest anger with a steel pipe in one hand and a steel pipe in the other, the blood of fallen foes on my fists and grinning with a sadistic smile because I simply get a kick out of watching those who I prove are worthless bleed...I am Mike MacDougan, I am Simply Magic, and I am a man you will learn to fear. ~~Mike rubs his temples and takes a seat at one of the chairs.~~ MAGIC: They call me Simply Magic because of what I do in the ring is simply magic. No need to try to understand it, no need to try to stop it...because you know it's coming...and there isn't a damn thing you can do. It'll take a miracle for your ass to be safe against me, Dukes. It'll take an act of GOD to stop me from stomping your eager ass into the canvas. You'll know the end is near when, while laying in a pool of your own spilled blood, you see me climb those ropes. I'll climb those ropes, look to you, look to my maker, and then look to the crowd. Public opinion be what it may, I'm gonna drop the bomb on your ass. It'll be "BOMBS AWAY!" followed by a three-count that, no matter how fast the ref...be it Sonny Lightning, Douglas, or Kremlin himself...can count, will not be fast enough. Angiush is what I'm talking about Dukes...anguish for you and what you've done. I was as good as golden, but you had to ruin it...you had to step in and act like the jack-ass you are. You had to make things hard on yourself...and there is no forgiveness for that. ~~The office door opens as Tweak steps into the room, breathing heavily. There is an incredible burst of noise coming from downstairs...shouting combined with the blaring of something loud and angry.~~ TWEAK: Mike! They've blocked the exits demanding to see you...not sure if you can hear it or not, but they're chanting your name down there...and things are looking like they're gonna get ugly. MAGIC: Alright...I'll be down. What the hell do these people think I am? ~~Tweak turns down the stairwell, Mike following close behind. Mike stops and turns back to the camera.~~ MAGIC: You dug your own grave, Dukes...and now you're gonna lie in it. I'm gonna make sure you'll think twice again about attacking me...you're gonna think twice about staying in the ASW when your night is made just a little more magical...Simply Magical. ~~Mike turns down the stairwell as the camera pans out to a shot of the club. After a few seconds, NIN's "The Becoming" blares over the PA system. A loud pop issues from the crowd as "Simply Magic" Mike MacDougan emerges from the DJ booth. We fade to static as Mike yells to the crowd.~~ |
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