|
| CURRENT
RECORD: 2/0/0 |
DATE
OF RP: 02/07/03 |
ACCOMPLISHMENT: -Null- |
| ~~Sometimes
we all need to escape, to leave the world behind, to look past all of
the problems of the world, and, in our own little microcosms, the
problems of our own world...our world view...how we see the world, and
how it reacts to us. Sometimes we need to step aside from the
world and just simply exist...not strive for anything, not try to
think, not try to feel...step outside of ourselves, and just simply
watch the world go by...alone.~~ MAGIC: Large regular, black. ~~Its then we can find ourselves...we find much of ourselves in other people, what we like about ourselves, what we dislike about ourselves. When you get right down to it, no one is ever truly "unique". Yeah, the make-up is always different, our experiences, our victories, our failures, how we act, how we talk, how we live...always different. But it's those things that make up the individual, those familiar things, those things we share, or don't share, with others...no one is totally unique. No one has a characteristic that no one else has...everyone has something in common with someone else, creating a complex web of interactions.~~ MAGIC: Thanks. ~~As much as we are the same, though, we are vastly different. Everyone sees the world differently...maybe that's why we're all the same...we can't solidify on anything. That's what it is to be human. The camera slowly fades into a semi-noisy crowd of strange freaks, geeks, weirdos, and, of course, the even rarer specimin, the "normal" looking. The place is somewhat cramped, a long counter runs the length of one side, behind which is all sorts of coffee-making equipment with various stickers, signs, posters, and pictures taped to them. There's a girl behind the counter, face riddled with piercings and tattoos, slinging coffee. The place is decked out in art deco; random bits of art and general junk is nailed, glued, applied however to the walls, and every wall is different with colorful and skewed murals. Coffee...lots of coffee. Thats where we find Mike MacDougan, holding a mis-matched mug and walking away from the counter to a remote table somewhere near the back. He's in his usual 3/4 length leather trenchcoat and leather pants, hair pulled back in a ponytail. His sunglasses, normally worn on his face, dangle, hooked into the front pocket of a half-unbottoned white silk shirt. His boots clomp across the floor, finding a solitary spot in a back corner, only illuminated by a lamp. No lamp in the place matches, and the same goes for all the tables and chairs. He nods to another man, a tall black man in dreads and a sweater with patches sewn all over it, and takes his seat. He smells the coffee, takes a sip, and leans back in the chair, looking out across the room. He notices the camera, giving it a sigh, and then slowly nodding to it.~~ MAGIC: The ASW must pay you guys better than they pay in the IWF. CAMERAMAN: Decent wages, I guess. MAGIC: Decent enough...give me a few moments to myself, and then we'll talk. Go ahead and sit down or something. Take a load off. ~~The camera turns itself, the cmaeraman sitting down across from Mike. It stays focused on him as he takes another sip of his coffee.~~ MAGIC: Can't you turn that thing off? CAMERAMAN: I'd really like to get this interview done. I have a full schedule as it is. ~~Mike shrugs, folding his hands behind his head and watching a couple of young ladies pass by. He smiles, nods, and they giggle. He turns back to the camera.~~ MAGIC: Most wrestlers would berate you and tell you to shut the hell up because they were calling the shots. Me, hell, I don't really care. You have a job to do, I have a job to do. I don't get kicks from showing my dominance through violence and ordering a person around with already too much to do and too much to worry about. Did they make you sign a health waver when you were hired? CAMERAMAN: Not really a health waiver...they have an excellent health plan here at ASW. MAGIC: So I've noticed. I suppose it's only right...seeing how so many men limp their way out of the ASW. Can't take a hit, most of them...only give them out. They also all talk too much. All bark and no bite is no way to go through life. ~~Mike takes a sip of his coffee. A young girl, maybe early twenties...20, 21, somewhere in there, dressed pretty plainly in straight black, walks over to Mike and punches him in the shoulder...not hard, mind you, just something to get attention. Mike looks up and smiles.~~ GIRL: Where you been, artiste? MAGIC: You know...around. How you been, Reese? ~~She sits down with a cup of her own. She's a fairly small girl, maybe standing at a little over 5 and a half feet tall and weighing in at an astonishing 100 lbs with a head full of wavy black hair. She has a shoulder bag, stitched with band patches and pin buttons, around her shoulder. She puts down a handful of pencils on the table.~~ REESE: Not too bad...just got another job with a new client. He wants me to paint his office, of all things. ~~Mike laughs.~~ MAGIC: An office? Moving up in the corporate world? REESE: Don't make me mad, Mike...I'll kick your ass! MAGIC: I'm gonna have to watch out for that then, huh? REESE: Yeah you are, muslce-head. Why haven't you been around here lately? ~~Mike shrugs and takes a long sip from his cup.~~ MAGIC: Been busy, is all. New job. ~~Reese shoves the pencils into her bag and pushes it aside. She looks at Mike...almost longingly.~~ REESE: Where you working? You didn't go back to that deli, did you? ~~Mike chuckles.~~ MAGIC: No, no...I don't think they'd let me go back there, not after what I did to that guy who complained about having the wrong flavor cream cheese on his bagel...but we all know he asked for strawberry. REESE: They might have let it go if you didn't get into a fight over it. MAGIC: He started it. This job is a lot better...I'm more suited for it. Remember how my dad's a pro-wrestler? REESE: Yeah...you aren't, are you? ~~Mike nods.~~ REESE: You can't! What if you get hurt? MAGIC: I'm not going to get hurt...I've trained to long and too hard to just get hurt. Even if I do get hurt, that's the risk I have to take...it's what I always wanted to be. It's what I am. REESE: Oh. MAGIC: What? REESE: Well...I... MAGIC: Yes? REESE: I thought we could...you know...be together. ~~Mike nods.~~ MAGIC: I can't do that, Reese...not because of the whole fed moving around thing, although I admit it would be unfair...but it didn't work last time. REESE: Oh. MAGIC: Look, you don't need me. Hell, no one really needs me. ~~Mike looks back at the camera, noticing it's there.~~ REESE: I need you! MAGIC: Reese, can we talk about this later? I don't need my laundry shown to the entire world. ~~She glances at the camera and buries her head in the crook of her arm. Mike sighs, motioning to the camera to cut or leave or go somewhere else. Slowly it fades to black.~~  ~~The camera fades back in to the same coffee house, only it is a smaller crowd now...much later. The corner that Mike was sitting in is empty, save for Mike and the cameraman. Ministry's "Jesus Built My Hotrod" plays over the sound system.~~ MAGIC: Thanks for coming back...sorry about the whole Reese thing- CAMERAMAN: It happens. MAGIC: Wait a second...from other interviews, all of you cameramen are supposed to be stupid and ignorant, unable to be able to understand the lives of the greatest superstars...I should slam your camera down on the ground and kick you in the head for talking because I didn't ask you to talk. ~~The cameraman laughs.~~ CAMERAMAN: Hey, we're only human. MAGIC: Yeah, I know...my manager...O'Brian...he used to run a camera for the When Worlds Collide tourney...pops picked him up and put him on MacDougan Entertainment wages. The way I see it, most problems with cameramen wouldn't pop up so much if they were just respected. The whole cameraman/interviewer-wrestler relationship thing has been stained with a series of bad wraps and needless attacks. Hell, you guys are just afraid that we'll take our anger out on you...its understandable the way most of you guys act. CAMERAMAN: Good point. MAGIC: But not to be rude or anything, but we're gonna have to make this short and sweet. This place closes in about a half an hour. CAMERAMAN: Aight. ~~Mike sips his coffee, looking around.~~ MAGIC: There really isn't much to it...I have a shot at Broken Hearts at taking the TV title. Good, fine. Yeah, I'm happy over that fact...but I'm not happy about my opponent. I'm sure he's at where he's at for a reason...but, as far as I can tell, that reason is long, long gone. He doesn't deserve to be where he's at. I've been given the oportunity to change that...to make sure that there is no slack, that there is no lag. Despite what my friend O'Brian may say, this fed is still diseased...there are people around here dragging their asses bringing the ASW down. It isn't necessarily the people who are still here, dead weight, nor is it the people who up and left...let's face the facts...ASW had a huge roster full of good, solid names, but some things went down...some things from before I was here...and it just dragged. Yeah, I'm still here, and, yeah, I consider myself to be one of the very best this fed has left. Does that make me egocentric? Does that make me a pompous asshole? ~~Mike smiles, waving his finger at the camera.~~ MAGIC: You know, maybe I am. Maybe I'm not...does it really matter? No. What does matter is that I'm going to go into Broken Hearts a rookie with 2 wins under his belt, and come out with an even bigger belt that can fit more wins under it. But I'm not going to stop there...I'm not content until I am THE BEST. That means going right up through the ranks and taking anything in my way out of my way...going through the roster until I get what I deserve. This is one man with an ego larger than any belt you could try to give him...and the only way I will be satisfied is when I get where I think I deserve to be. ASW TV Champion? ~~Mike shrugs.~~ MAGIC: Nice, definately...it's something to put on a resume. And, not to lie to anyone, I have a resume thats been passed around between a few people. I have new agents calling my manager, wanting me to sign there, wanting me to show up here, wanting me to make an appearance there...but I'm not. Do you know why? Because I'm here right now, and thats all that matters. I'll take the TV title. I'll wear it...but it's temporary. It's a stepping stone. It's where I truly begin. ~~Mike sips his coffee, finishing off the last of the cup.~~ MAGIC: It's the beginning. I'd be a liar if I told you all that I'd be content at staying TV champion...hell, there isn't a soul on the ASW roster that doesn't want something better...to be "The Best" of the ASW. It's what it's about, anyway, right? ~~Mike sits forward, getting in closer to the camera.~~ MAGIC: Not entirely...championships is only the half of it...the other half is something more ancient and more primal than anyone can remember...it's a need to fight, a need to survive. The context has changed quite a bit since then...survival is on more of a job level now...because no one is going to keep someone who is stagnant, someone who is a waste of time and money...someone who fans either no longer hate or no longer love. They get tossed to the wayside...and that what it's all about. Survival. MAGIC: Oh, I know I'm making some people uncomfortable here...I'm spelling out their own demise, I'm spelling out their own failures collecting until they are no longer valuable. Fight on, fight on...because someday you won't be able to...and you'll go far, far away. Me? ~~Mike laughs, leaning back.~~ MAGIC: I'm not going anywhere. I'm fresh, I'm new, and I'm this feds best hopes of re-establishing it's tarnished name. When those guys in the front office realize that, it'll be a rough time indeed for some of you. ~~Mike pushes around the coffee cup on the table, thinking aloud.~~ MAGIC: But I'm new...I'm the worst thing that could have happened to most of you. Things are going to change...things are going to become that much more Magical, if you catch my drift. ~~We fade to black as Mike winks at the camera, lounging back in his chair.~~ |
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