Date of RP: 5-15-03
Location: Haven
Current Record: 6-2-1
Accomplishments: 2X ASW TV Champion
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- "Obstacles
cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve. He who is fixed
to a star does not change his mind."
- --Leonardo DaVinci, Notebooks
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~~The
pulsing of a thunderous hum fills the air like static, touching all who
can hear and echoeing deep within their chests, looking for
reason. Looking for the completion of a violent circle of hear
and be heard, sounds battling it out as if their very existances- being
remembered, being forgotten- depended on it. Fighting over the
rattling of glass and the murmurs of human conversation, this is no
easy task.
The club is dark and full. Hundreds of bodies collide, clash, and
become one with the music. It's a frenzied rush to keep up...to
know the feeling of completion.
Back in a corner, illuminated by the soft glow of red from a steel
cage, we find the figure of a man surrounded by attractive women, all
somewhere in their mid-twenties. The man laughs, and then reaches
for a bottle on the table with a feathered arm. His whole body is
feathered, in fact...a coat of jet-black feathers, tinged with red and
neon. He takes a swig from the bottle and leans back.
There are atleast 3 visible women from the dancefloor, all handing on
him. His arms are on none of them.
The man puts the bottle back on the table and smooths back his hair,
nodding to the rhythm. He notices the camera, looking up with it
with a pair of piercing eyes, and, for just an instant, there is a glow
of red behind his eyes. Recognition.
He motions to it, sweeping it in with his hand.
As we approach, we find the figure of Mike MacDougan...or, as it seems
he likes to be called now..."Tacit". There is a sheepish grin on
a half-obscured face. When we reach the other side of the table,
Tacit ducks down, unmasking his full face from the darkness of the
club. He pulls his hair back and ties it with a section of
string. His chest is bare, for the most part, but covered with a
large-holed and loose mesh shirt.
He motions to the women around him.~~
TACIT: The perks, huh?
~~He continues to grin, sheepishly,
and then lays back in the booth, again obscuring all but the bottom
half of his face and his chest. He also continues to motion
around himself, and then waves them away, speaking to the camera as if
the women weren't present.~~
TACIT: Not a brain between all their
pretty little heads, unfortunately.
~~They giggle and Mike gets a
disgusted look on his face. He reaches his arms out across the
table, grasping the ends and bringing his face closer to the
camera. A redhead on the left leans into Mike and begins to play
with his hair. He shrugs her off and speaks to the camera.~~
TACIT: I need a woman with a little more
to offer, so to speak. Jumbles of body parts and blank stares
aren't good enough...I'm not looking for anything refined...no daddy's
little rich girls. Tacit needs many things, you see. It
isn't so much that I need the money, the fame, or the prestige. I
don't need a spot on a talk show or a guest spot on a late night
show. I am what I am...and what I am speaks volumes. I am
the worlds greatest lover, the worlds greatest fighter, and the worlds
greatest innovation. I am the next evolution in wrestling,
and...not by mere fortune or an odd accumulation of fate..not karma,
not desire...I am bound to take the ASW by storm. It is my
right...it is my duty...to show the rest of the world what greatness is
and could be. These...these-
~~Mike motions behind and around
him to a group of women talking to themselves about things of no
significance. Importance is lost on these blind souls.~~
TACIT: These...trinkets...I
don't need them. It happens this way. I want to sit and
have a beer, and they flock around me like a flock of pigeons to an
overturned shopping bag full of bread. Unlike the bag, I'm solid,
though. I can push them away...I can get away from them.
It's just a matter of telling them to go away. Find someone else
to dig for gold around.
~~He grins.~~
TACIT: But why would I do that? This
is a game of give and take, with a little more importance on the
features of "take". Dukes, you took something from me...you had
the rocks to step up to me and take what is mine. I applaud you,
I really do...you did just what I said you couldn't do. You
stepped into the ring and went toe-to-toe with me...and took the only
thing in this federation that meant anything to me. I bet it
feels good...knowing that you bested me...knowing that, despite my own
overconfidence, you did what I thought was impossible. I see that
you deserve more credit now.
~~He leans back again, tapping his
finger on the table. The women crowd around him again, trying to
touch him in some way that would emit some sort of recognition.
He ignores them regardless.~~
TACIT: But it won't last, will it
Dukes? Apparently you found a weak spot in my battle
tactics. Apparently you found out, mostly by blind dumb luck
rather than some sort of 6th battle sense that you could claim you
have, that I'm not all that good with ladder matches. Truthfully,
it was a learning experience...I've never did that before. I had
never used a ladder for anything more than changing a lightbulb or
bashing someone in the head. Yeah, the principles are the
same...but it takes more timing than anything else.
Unfortunately, for me, your timing was much, much better than
mine. We'll sum that up with experience...thats where you had
me. That is where you won out.
~~He scowls and leans back in to
the camera again, throwing the women off like a loose coat.~~
TACIT: That is where you beat me...this
time.
~~He props his head in the cup of
his hands, elbows on the table. His gaze pierces the camera,
looking at it over his fingers. ~~
TACIT: But you know what,
Dukes? The rules are changing...the times are changing. I
am no longer the simpleton you first met in the ring. I'm
something much, much better. I don't challenge my body into doing
things...I don't bully myslef into doing what I want it to do...I
simply let it do what it wants to do. The first rule of survival
is to have a clear head...if you don't have a clear head, a whole host
of problems follow. If I let my body just be, those problems
disintegrate into a mass of forgotten troubles. You'll be one of
those forgotten troubles, Dukes. You are of the past...the past
is impermanent. The future is impermanent. All that matters
now is the present...and the reclamation of what belongs to me.
You're on borrowed time, buddy...your title reign will be one of the
shortest this fed has seen in recent months. I'm going to make
sure that the rightful champion walks out of that arena this
weekend. I'm going to make sure you know that that rightful
champion is Tacit.
~~He leans back, draping his arm
across the back of the booth, and kicks his heels up onto the
table. The women cling to him like a life preserver.~~
TACIT: I said the rules are changing,
Dukes. That doesn't mean in just the genome alone. No,
no...you had me with the ladder match. You turned Mike
MacDougan's lack of confidence in ladder matches around on him and took
the only thing that meant shit to him. Our new set of rules for
this match is back to the good old No-DQ, isn't it? Brings back
some fond memories, huh? Being able to do anything you want to
preserve your title reign...anything that you can imagine, you can
do. And it's perfectly legal...simply because in this type of
match there is no legal status to speak of; you either win, or you
lose. It's as simple as that.
~~He motions to his bottle of beer,
to which two women fight over the right to get it. The redhead,
who seems much more persistant in these matters, wins out and brings
him the bottle. Mike gives her a half smile and takes a
swig. He brings it to rest on his knee.~~
TACIT: Just don't feed me your usual lines
of horse shit, Dukes. Don't tell me that you're going to crush me
because you're "The Crusher"...honestly, it's all the same to me...The Crusher, The Smasher, The Squisher,
The Pusher, The Puller, The Asshead...whatever you want to call
yourself, Champ, don't mean a lick of difference when you face off
against me. Either way, I'm gonna give you something that I
should have given you a long, long time ago. Don't reiterate what
I said, and don't act like the dumbass you are when you ignore my
caution to not reiterate me. Don't tell me about how you're going
to wrap that stupid chain around my neck and strangle me. I've
heard that before...and the closest you're going to get to me with that
chain, and I've said it before, is when I shove that rusty heap of
links up your ass. You have your tetnus shots, Dukes? For
your sake, I hope so.
~~Tacit takes a swig of his beer
and glances around the room, and then back to the camera.~~
TACIT: But you know what's the best part
of this whole situation, Dukes?
~~He moves his legs, swinging them
back under the table. He leans forward into the camera, smiling.~~
TACIT: We get to do it all over again in a
world without all those cumbersome rules and regulations...you say
you're hardcore, and I want you to prove it. Quite frankly, I've
seen 14-year olds in baggy jeans and a backwards baseball caps who are
more hardcore than you. Make sure you have a good laugh now that
you have the title, because when I'm done with you, you won't be able
to.
~~Calmly, surely, Tacit leans back
into the booth, a grin splitting the rest of his stoic face like a meat
cleaver. He stares forward, into the camera, as we fade to
black...and the arms of the women coddle and woo him, playing with his
hair, tracing long nails over his chest. Emotionless beyond a
smirk of a smile, he continues to watch the camera as it fades back to
nothing.~~
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"I'm an evolved being because I'm stronger,
I'm faster, and I'm smarter. I am the ultimate fighting
machine...trained metal on metal, in the streets, and in the gym.
I have prepared since I was 6 to take my father's place, and
finally it is mine. I have not trained this long and this hard to
allow a lesser being to take that away from me. I am evolved, and
I will make all of them learn that fact."
--Mike MacDougan
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