|
| CURRENT
RECORD: 1/0/0 |
DATE
OF RP: 01/26/03 |
ACCOMPLISHMENT: -Null- |
| ~~It's
early morning through the curtains...dull, off-white curtains that look
into a small office. The light glints off of a few bottles of
beer sitting on the desk over the shoulder of Krev MacDougan, a smile
siretched wide across his face. Krev drinks from one of the
bottles, droplets of beer dribbling down over his chin and onto his
"MacDougan's Wrestling School" t-shirt. Mike sits across from
him, and reaches for the other bottle. His muslces flex under his
"I am becoming" shirt. Behind Mike we can see O'Brian, Mikes
young manager, decked out in a collarless black button-down shirt and a
pair of black khakki pants. His hair is spiked up, and the
sunlight that betrayed the dawn also glints off of the silver spiked
chain around his neck. He's smiling, ear-to-ear in a
matter-of-fact manner. He's certainly looking the part of suave
manager...right down to the silver rings lining his fingers.~~ O'BRIAN: HALF of the shares?! ~~Krev nods to O'Brian, taking another swig of beer. Mike nods, cracking his knuckles, deep in thought.~~ KMD: Yeah...hell, Mike would have got all of the shares when I died anyway, but this is a sort of initiative for him...if he can produce, that is. I have no doubts in my mind that he can, though. It'll be something for some good backing...MacDougan Entertainment is already worth $15 Million...not a huge price, but something to start out with...Mike knows as well as I do that the MacDougan name is a name in wrestling that should be at the top of all of the lists...its in the genes, and key for our survival. To be a MacDougan is to dominate the world around them. ~~Mike looks up at Krev, still deep in thought. Absent-mindedly he nods, taking a long swig from his beer. O'Brian stands up and begins to pace around the room, wrenching his hands.~~ O'BRIAN: And all we have to do is get gold? KMD: Mike has to get gold. You have to make sure he gets there. O'BRIAN: Yeah, yeah...of course. Magic, this is great because- ~~Mike holds up his hand, quieting O'Brian. He puts his beer back down onto the desk and looks at KMD.~~ KMD: ...because? ~~Mike lets a small smile cross his face as he leans back in the chair.~~ O'BRIAN: ...because that might be in the future. KMD: "Might be" in the future? MAGIC: No, no...it will be in the future. I have a contendorship spot opened up to me...all I have to do is go through Ricey420 and I have the #3 TV Title contendor spot. It's a small spot....it's low on the totem pole, but it is something. I've got to start somewhere...and this is good enough. It's nothing like you did- ~~Krev nods, taking a swig of his beer.~~ KMD: What I did in the ASW was a freak occurance...it was only 3 weeks before I was Canadian Champ, and it was a matter of a few more before I would have been their Champion...but don't think about that. It didn't happen because I left...it's in the past. Focus on what you're doing now. ~~Mike sighs as he looks up at KMD.~~ MAGIC: It didn't happen because I went all whacko and went looking for mom even though I knew she was dead. I drew you away from the ASW...you could have been their champion, but you didn't because of me. It was my fault- ~~Krev quiets Mike by holding up his hand.~~ KMD: It wasn't your fault, and don't think that. All I knew was that you could have been dead...I am your father, it is/was my place to find you. Wrestling can go take a heaping steamer on itself for all I cared if you were in trouble. Get that straight now...family is more important than titles. Never forget that. ~~Mike nods.~~ MAGIC: Alright. But you were almost there- KMD: And you will too. It's in your blood...greatness is your destiny. Take that spot from...what the hell was his name? MAGIC: Ricey420. KMD: What the bloody hell does that mean? Is he some sort of pothead? Jesus, this should be easy for you...he probably wouldn't even know what the hell was going on,...or he would let all his attention get drawn by all the bright lights and shiny things. Damn long-hairs... ~~Mike looks at his long hair, and then back at KMD. He shakes his head, letting it pass.~~ MAGIC: Anyway, I have the match on Wednesday, so I won't be able to watch you stomp Pete Ebdon for the IWF Championship. I'm worried that he might try to cheat you out of the title you deserve- ~~Krev shrugs his shoulders.~~ KMD: Don't be, I'm not. Worries about Ebdon are no longer an issue for me...if I win, I win. If I lose, I lose...whats really important right now is the fed. You stay focused on your own fed and your own match...thinking about my match won't help you in any way with your own. ~~Mike nods, taking a swig of beer.~~ MAGIC: Good point. I don't think I should have any trouble, though...I've seen how he works. He's a bigger dude...Scottish too. O'BRIAN: Magic, you guys, you and your father, are Scottish, right? MAGIC: We're American. Yeah, we're Scottish in origin, but born and raised in America. ~~Krev chuckles.~~ KMD: I was born in Scotland, actually. Moved here when I was but a young lad. Back in '66. I was...3...back then. MAGIC: I'm American, anyway. The only thing we share is a homeland...but that is not an issue. It isn't like we share blood. O'BRIAN: You might- MAGIC: I seriosly doubt that, O'Brian. Do you know how many people live in Scotland? O'BRIAN: No. MAGIC: Yeah, well, there is most definately more than one family. Regardless, I have one man to go through before I'm on my way up...after this first guy, there ain't nothin stopping me. The only way up for Simply Magic is up. KMD: "Isn't anything." ~~Mike looks at KMD as O'Brian sits back down and reaches for a bottle of beer beside the couch on the floor.~~ MAGIC: What? KMD: "Isn't anything" instead of "ain't nothin". Thats a double-negative- MAGIC: You sound like Ebdon, Dad. Stop hanging around him. ~~Krev grins.~~ KMD: Sorry...I have to watch myself anymore, what with the grammar police running rampant through the IWF. He can't seem to get it through his head that "proper" English doesn't make one a champion. MAGIC: As long as his pansy-ass doesn't rub off on you, you should be good...if that happened, I'd have to find you and kick your ass. ~~They all laugh as the screen fades to black.~~  ~~We fade back in to a shot of an appartment...sparse, but loaded with plants and bamboo this and that. A large cushy leather couch is set on one of the walls, with a decent-sized tv on the opposite wall. A glass coffee table sits in front of the couch, holding a display of different odds and ends; a marbled chess set, various bits and pieces of odd pottery, and carved knick-knacks. On the wall opposite from the door, in front of a large bay window, sits a set of turntables and a large shelf full of records. Sprawled out on a chair that matches the couch, Magic sits, legs spread out, wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless t-shirt with KMD's Gym logo spread across the front. O'Brian sits on the couch, drinking a bottle of water and watching TV. Mike's looking through some papers. He holds them and looks up at O'Brian, whose attention is still focused on the TV.~~ MAGIC: O'Brian. ~~O'Brian continues to watch the TV, the rest of the world shut off.~~ MAGIC: O'Brian! ~~O'Brian continues to watch the TV, taking a swig out of his bottle.~~ MAGIC: O'BRIAN!!! ~~O'Brian shakes himself out of it, nearly falling off the couch. He looks at Mike, confusion across his eyes.~~ O'BRIAN: Huh?! MAGIC: I don't understand how people can get sucked into that garbage. O'BRIAN: You get sucked into ESPN... MAGIC: I don't get "sucked into" ESPN...I keep it on in the background. You watch those cartoons as if your life depended on them. Focus man...it's 2 days from my contendorship spot match, and we need to focus...get a game plan. O'BRIAN: Ok, what do you plan to do? ~~Mike shuts off the TV, a look of slight sadness crossing O'Brian's face. He hands him the papers.~~ MAGIC: First thing is to shut that crap off. I did a little bit of research, and it seems that this Ricey420 both out-weighs me and stands taller than I do. He's bigger by at least 2 inches and about 10 pounds. Not much, admittantly, but he's still bigger...I'm going to have to figure in someone a little larger than last week. O'BRIAN: Ok, but the fans hate him. ~~Mike takes a swig of water, nodding.~~ MAGIC: Fans hating someone doesn't necessarily mean they won't stack up...it's a game of respect. If he respects them, they'll respect him. I'm not planning on getting anywhere with my "fame" or if people like me or not...I could care less. What matters is beating him, and inching myself closer to that TV title. When I get that- O'BRIAN: You'll have 1/2 of MacDougan Entertainment. MAGIC: Yeah, but more importantly, it'll be a good base for me to springboard from. Then people will have to start treating me with a little more respect. I know I don't deserve it yet...beating one man...but I will deserve it, and I'll make sure everyone sees that I deserve whats coming to me. ~~O'Brian looks through the papers, nodding.~~ O'BRIAN: RiceInator? What is that? Some sort of rice cooker? Maybe a rice burner? MAGIC: I guess thats what he does to people. His finisher...I think it's some sort of suplex. O'BRIAN: Why did he call it that? MAGIC: I don't know...why do I call mine Bombs Away!? It's just a name. What has he accomplished in the ASW? O'BRIAN: This doesn't say anything. ~~Mike sighs.~~ MAGIC: Damn...I need to hit the big names. It's a small step...something worth taking...but it's so small. O'BRIAN: Size matters not. ~~Mike blinks at O'Brian.~~ O'BRIAN: It doesn't. MAGIC: Yeah, well he may out-weigh me, but he won't out-match me. I've worked too long and too hard to fall flat on my ass now. Those long hours busting my ass at the school wasn't for nothing...I signed with the ASW so I could become all that my father was and more. O'BRIAN: You don't think people think you're living in his shadow, do you? MAGIC: I don't really care. I'm not living in his shadow, and I am not riding his coat tails...I'm going to get everywhere I get without any interference from him, or him setting up anything "special". I'm too good for that. O'BRIAN: I don't think he'd let you take the easy way anyway. MAGIC: No, definately not. ~~Mike leans back in the chair, looking at O'Brian and shaking his head. He takes a swig of water.~~ O'BRIAN: What? MAGIC: I want to fight now. O'BRIAN: You want to fight me? MAGIC: No, not you...I dunno. I have so much energy right now...I can feel it pulsing through my muscles and creeping out through the base of my neck. It's just so damn irritating. I want to move up...I want to fight. O'BRIAN: Mebbe you should save some of that go-juice for Wednesday. MAGIC: I'm hitting the gym tomorrow...playing around in the ring a bit and batting around the punching bags. I need to be in prime shape for this...I need to be in prime shape all the time if I want people to see my true potential...I'm good...I'll be the first one to pat myself on the back...but I'm not worth anything to anyone if I get lazy about it. Come Wednesday, I'll have taken my first step towards greatness. O'BRIAN: Yep...then what? MAGIC: I'm not going to make plans...that's pointless. The only plan I need is my head screwed on straight for this match...no stupid mistakes, make sure it's a stream-lined battle and I take advantage of everything Ricey throws at me. I can counter nearly anything, but it won't ammount to squat if my game is loaded with dumb mistakes. This goes for you as well...keep your eyes on the prize, and make sure no one interferes. We can make Wednesday night magical...Simply Magical. ~~O'Brian hands Mike the papers back, nodding slowly, as we fade to black.~~ |
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