Date of RP: 5-28-03
Location:The Streets of Pittsburgh
Current Record: 7-2-1
Accomplishments: 3X ASW TV Champion (current)
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- "...all pain
disappears
it's the nature of
of my circuitry
drowns out all i hear
no escape from this
my new consciousness
the me that you know
he used to have feelings
but the blood has stopped
pumping and he's left to decay
the me that you know
is now made up of wires
and even when i'm right with you
i'm so far away..."
- --NIN "The Becoming"
|
~~A
street dampened by the coming of the morning fog and the flowing of the
rains stretches out before us as a long, open street deep in the heart
of Pittsburgh's South Side. It's a back-alley street littered
with neon lights of hidden bars and pubs, the watering holes of the
locals. College students love to wander through this part of town
at night...drawn to the lights of a neon "Bud" like horses to the
trough.
But this is a part they don't usually go through...the lack of glow and
loudness seem to keep them away.
Besides, there are less people to pick fights with back here.
Add that to the fact that it's early Wednesday morning, and you'll find
that the number of people on the street are dramatically reduced.
Additionally it is summer...most of the beer-frothed herd of hormones
and Abercrombie aren't even in the city. They're off in their own
shitty towns working shitty jobs for shitty wages...all so they can buy
more beer next semester.
It's in this atmosphere...in this total lack of people and overactive
testosterone we find Mike MacDougan, singing softly to himself as he
tramps down the street in the pouring rain. He notices the camera
and nods to it, his hair pulled neatly back in a pony tail and his
boots soaked clear through.
Despite looking completely uncomfortable in wet jeans and t-shirt,
there is a wide grin on the face of the fearless man.~~
TACIT: ...and the antics of our playground
bully never ceases. In an attempt to make himself more
intelligent looking, he has gone and made an ass of himself. Take
off the soda bottle glasses, Poindexter, you're not impressing
anyone. At least not me.
~~Tacit kicks at an empty aluminum
can and watches it skid across the sidewalk, coming to rest in a large
puddle of water formed in the middle of a paved street with a pothole
the size of a horse. He looks back up.~~
TACIT: I'm going to start off by pointing
out a few things. First things first...when you first spoke of my
"bird-watching," I thought you were a complete moron. After
carefully listening to your dissertation, Professor Titan, I find that
you are not a complete moron...just a confused and simple-minded
twit. I hate to pick on specifics, but this is something I would
rather have cleared up before you make anyone else any dumber than they
already are. See, you stated that your clever little play on
words was an "analogy," but, as we find from going to...and LISTENING
in...our English classes, an analogy is finding something similiar
between two things that would normally appear dissimiliar and making a
comparison between those things. You made no initial comparison,
Titan. You gave me a meaningless phrase wtih nothing behind
it. We could call this phrase a "metaphor" that wasn't pulled off
all that well. Take note, this is different from a phrase that
would be called a "simile," because a simile uses 'like' or 'as', or
any other version of a comparative linking verb. Your explanation
of your mysterious and unclear statement...i.e. the one where you
called me a "bird-watcher" and tried to explain to me the process of
your three neurons firing at each other like it was the apocolypse, if
you have forgotten...is a simile. I would suggest for those of
you who are new to speaking and want to be understood to stick to
similes at this point in time, as, apparently, you have not mastered
the little annoying parts of the English language called meataphor or
analogy. Got it, dork?
~~He comes to the street, picks up
the empty can, and then tosses it into a garbage can on the
corner. He pauses and looks up at the camera.~~
TACIT: Secondly, I do indeed dream of the
title that you claim. I wouldn't say they're wet dreams, as I
seriously doubt that anything that is connected to you would make me
wet myself. Maybe when you speak...but then I'd only be wetting
myself because of laughter. But I have these dreams...these
dreams of me holding that title and pointing at a worthless, lowly
being crushed under the heel of my steel-toes. I see them more as
prophetic dreams. My purpose in the ASW is to take the lead and
stand at the top...unfortunately, for you, my prophecies involve the
World Heavyweight Title...and me taking it. To spell it out for
you as clearly as possible, my...what you might consider "wet
dreams"...my prophecies involve me taking the title from you.
They've only been good dreams...for me, of course...I assure you.
TACIT: And,
yes, thirdly, you have made it painfully obvious that you are the
Heavyweight Champion and I am not...but I reiterate, you got there
first. Had I come along a little earlier, we'd all be singing
different tunes...the tables may have been turned, and it may have been
you verbally assaulting me during the off chance that you were given a
shot at something seemingly far, far above you. But it isn't that
way, is it? If you were not the Heavyweight Champion, I wouldn't
be going after you, would I? I'm certainly not going to fight you
unless I don't have to...I'm a busy man, Titan. There are people
to crush and titles to take...and I have no time to fight a battle of
wits with an unarmed man. You are serving a function for me right
now as the place-holder for my title. I thank you for all your
hard work, Titan, I really do...but it's time I took over. I
know, I know...I haven't held the precious metal embodyment of
over-compensation yet. All I have is the lowly $20 TV title...a
title, may I note, that has seen more fighitng and action...and
attention...in the past 4 months since I got here than the Heavyweight
title has. It may be painful to hear, Titan, but I was thrown
into the mix to take that stagnant title and make things
interesting...to take and make the top prize in the ASW a little more
like what I made the TV Title...worthwhile and meaning something.
Does that mean I'll lose it twice? Hardly. This is one
prize I plan on keeping for a good period of time. That is, of
course, after I make sure you're back down with the rest of the
bottom-feeders where you belong. Hell, maybe I'll even just give
you the TV Title so that you don't feel left out and completely
insignificant. Maybe you'll be able to get $20 for it...I don't
know, I've never tried. It's just been a means to an end for me,
Titan.
~~Tacit
rings the water out of his hair and then begins to walk again, speaking
to the camera and adding emphasis to his words through the inane use of
hand movements. Sure, they may prove to make conversation more
interesting...but we all know it's either a nervous twitch or the
physical embodyment of the thought process in action.
If you didn't know that, then maybe you do now.
It can also be understood that Tacit is exhibiting no other signs of
anxiety, so we are forced to the conclusion that he is working things
out in his head.
Bear with us as we take our good old time working things around in our
head. It may take a few seconds, and a few seconds longer than
Titan would desire...but, well, evidently Titan has never successfully
pulled off this feat we call "thinking" before, anyway.~~
TACIT: Fourthly, I'm sorry if
it seemed that I was telling you that everything you got was handed to
you. I really didn't think that...hell, I didn't give much
thought to who you are or what your past was like, because, simply put,
it doesn't come into play here. I'm fighting you in the
present...I'm fighting you on Wednesday. I stated I grew up poor and didn't have
everything handed to me on a silver platter....your name was never even
mentioned in that context. Save up some sense and buy a clue,
Titan, and understand that every word out of my mouth isn't about
you. There are more important things to talk about other than
Titan 3 in this world, buddy. Namely the next ASW World
Heavyweight Champion, Mike MacDougan. Learn to think before you
leap into the mouth of a lion; this constant need to re-explain
everything I say to you isn't a matter of me not being clear in my
speech, it's a matter of you not being clear in the head. It's
starting to get annoying.
~~Tacit stops and turns to the
camera.~~
TACIT: ...and I bought my way through the
ranks? Ask any of those other schmucks I pushed back down into
the mud if I gave them any money to lose. Sure, sure...you showed
me in your infinte wisdom and omnipresent viewpoint that I slammed the
very guys I praised. That's right. I trash-talked them like
it was garbage day...but I respect them because they fought Mike
MacDougan. The fact that they fought Mike MacDougan and came back
again looking for more was enough for me...it may not hold true for all
of them, but a good few of them. The 2 that did beat me deserve a
little more respect. You have no room to talk. You have not
fought Mike MacDougan...Tacit...whatever my twisted mind wants me to be
called. I know, I know...it isn't fair, is it? I give
myself enough levity to talk like I already beat you, but then I have
the balls to go right back and tell you that you can't say the same
because you haven't fought me. Life isn't fair, Titan, and you're
going to slowly learn that. I say these things because I am
confident in my own skills and abilities as a true competitor in this
sport. I seriously doubt yours.
~~He
shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to walk again, stepping
around cracked pavement as the rain pours down on him without mercy.~~
TACIT:...and, yes, yes, yes...you have
only lost 2 matches in your ASW career. Big stinkin scrotum
scrapings, buddy. I have
2 career losses in ASW. Hell, I have 2 career losses
period. Sure, sure...~~puts his fingers out in quotation
marks and speaks in a mocking voice~~'but they were to
guys like Douglas and Dukes. The guys you fought were
stupid-heads. And...I've
been in more feds than you, Chumpion.' ~~He
puts his hands back in his pockets, resumes his normal voice, and
continues to walk forward into the thickening fog.~~ No, they were not the cream of the
crop, but they found a way to defeat me nonetheless. Will you be
able to do the same? Do you think that you can flaunt around a
record that means nothing to me like it was liturgy? For cripes
sake, Titan, all I care about is making sure I add another tick mark to
that nearly-unblemished track record of yours. When I have done
that I have taken your title, and, I'm willing to wager, your
manhood. Your record doesn't scare me, Titan, because it means
nothing to me. If you were so good, why aren't you still in those
other federations? Unresolveable arguments? Differences in
artistic vision? Maybe they were your
run-of-the-mill, crash-in-a-week, dumps? The ASW needs staying
power, champ...and, quite frankly, it sounds to me you have a pretty
damn short half-life.
TACIT: I'll be the first to admit it...I'm
new to the world of wrestling, so to speak. I haven't had my time
under the hot lights of the pros. Sure, I've had a lot of
out-of-ring training...I've had more than enough to survive on my own
in the big leagues. I even have a bunch of small indy fed matches
and wins under my belt. I don't have nearly the ammount of
experience you boast, but I bet you're gonna feel pretty silly when the
"industrial angst-ridden momma's boy" cripples your well-dressed ass
with one well-placed boot to the head.
~~He ducks under a stretched out
awning and pulls the camera in close. He levels his face with it
and speaks softly.~~
~~Tacit watches a group of people
pass buy, all rushing to get into their vehicle and out of the
rain. He turns back to the camera.~~
TACIT: I'm not Superman, I cannot
fly. I don't have awesome powers of destruction and
creation. I have a father...not a steel worker but a prior ASW
champion...and I once had a mother...I once had a fiance, and I once
had a child. I am human, and I bleed...but I'm evolved. I'm
better than you because I posess all that you do not. If that
makes me look uncaring and unloving, so be it. I may not seem
like the nicest guy in the world, and I may be downright disrespectful
most of the time...but in this game they don't pay me to feel or be
nice, they pay me to destroy. If I were to confuse emotions with
wrestling, I'd be in more of a sorry mess than you could ever
imagine. Ever spend any time in "the quiet room"?
~~Tacit waves away the comment with
his hand.~~
TACIT: It doesn't matter. This match
is about the now, not the past. Spill all of that finger pointing
and projectionist crap on the Iceman here, because he doesn't
feel. He is just simply another inhuman and faceless monster
looking to make a name for himself as he wrecklessly smashes his way to
the top of the rankings. Take out all of your anger and rage on
the man who doesn't feel...if it makes you feel better. Equate me
with whatever soulless, mopey, and utterly transformed sub-human
gearhead you see me as. Do whatever makes you feel good, but that
isn't going to stop me. Nothing can stop me now.
~~He
turns back into the rain and continues down the street, speaking over
his shoulder at the camera.~~
TACIT: Give me your all-out assault.
Knock me down and spit on my face...but I guarantee that I'll get right
back up and hand it right back to you. We MacDougans don't go
down like bitches like that, Titan. We make bitches like
that. Hit me with all you got, and it still won't be
enough. Yeah, I know...it's a blunt fact, but how many ways are
there to say that I can't stand you and I will destroy you where you
stand? I suppose I could get creative with it...make some clever
little metaphorical/analogical catch-phrases that people'll be
repeating years after now...but, as we have found earlier, you have
trouble with these sorts of things. I'm going to save you the
trouble and misery of making a complete fool out of yourself.
~~Tacit
turns around and smiles. ~~
TACIT: My gift to you, free
of charge.
~~He winks and turns around,
walking again.~~
TACIT: AND- Oh boy!
Theres more! And...and yes, I understand that you think lowly of
my wonderful city and you posess inside of you the unique ability...as
if I ever cared or ever needed to know that useless bit of trivia...to
hate Detroit. Pittsburgh may not be the nicest, cleanest city in
all of God's green creation, but it's MY city, and it's my home.
You slam my city, and you slam me. I'm sure this doesn't worry
you...it's hard to get through that thick exterior of your head and get
to all of the gooey goodness that you didn't know you have up
there. But for the love of all that's holy, Titan, Miami?
If I wanted to mingle with scantily-clad bimbos, steroid-pumped
sun-burnt muscle-heads, and Cuban refugees, I know just the place to
visit. I want to visit that place like I want a bullet between
the eyes. I guess that could be arranged in your mighty city as
well, huh? Maybe a little trip down a Miami freeway is all I need
to clear out all of that pesky grey matter in my skull...it has seemed
to work for-- I'm going to leave that cheap shot alone, as I have
already stated that your thinking capabilities range about as far as
the migration patterns of the common Dodo.
~~Tacit stops and looks into the
camera.-~~
TACIT: But don't trashtalk my
city. That's just rude.
~~He begins to walk again, camera
closely following him from the side.~~
TACIT: I'd like to appologize for
calling you stupid...but I can't seem to bring myself to lie. I'm
sure that you're as special as you momma tells you, and I know it's all
been said before...but why try to deny it? I mean, other people
have thought it...other people have said it...does that mean it's
true? Not necessarily so, as we find that the common man and most
of those who have had the wonderful opportunity of exchanging words
with you were talentless sheep. I'm not breaking any molds here,
buddy, but only stating the cold, hard truth. But chin-up,
tiger...you get to face the one and only Mike
MacDougan...Tacit...whatever I feel like calling myself...for the
chance to give back to your federation what you have taken out.
We're proud of you, son, and we hope you keep up the good work.
~~Tacit chuckles and continues to
weave his way around cracks in the pavement.~~
TACIT: I'm going to skip over my comments
about my business. Even our advanced technology and masterful
creativity can't save your sorry career from sinking, so I have no need
to even start a commentary with you about how I make my
livlihood.
~~He pauses and makes sure he makes
visual contact with the camera, ducking under another outstretched
awning.~~
TACIT: But I do want to tell you about how
I enjoyed your masterful use of foreshadowing and allusion. The
dead crow was a nice touch...but do you know what a dead crow means,
Titan the Third? Crows were always looked upon with fear in
ancient times. They have a system, not entirely unlike some of
the more brutal human systems, of security in which if a guarding
crow...one with a position to protect and stand as an example for the
rest...fails in his duty to alarm the rest of the murder...and crows
fly in murders, boys and
girls...if he fails to alarm them of predators, he is immediately
destroyed. No excuses, no mercy. It lends to the fact that
they are barely ever seen dead; no crow or raven...some of the most
intelligent birds alive....wants to be ripped to shreads by the group
it once called family, and if they were, very little could ever be
found beyond a few stray feathers and the occasional torn wing or
tattered tail feathers. So what did our ancient forefathers
believe the sighting of a dead crow meant, Titan3? In times of
war it equated with failure...that death was upon the finder or seer of
the dead crow in the near future. Some say that the crow...as
over-stated and ultimately ruined in that horrible piece of cinema that
couldn't even come close to the original, gripping story as told by the
original creator...is a portent to the world of the dead, sent to the
living as a warning. What's even more unsettling, as your mind is
now probably racing with fury and anger and confusion, is that the
finding of a dead crow or raven at night...and I noticed you shot your
promo in the wonderful dimlit hours of early morning-- meaning the crow
was more than likely killed at night-- if they found a night-killed
crow, something even more horrific was in store for the finder, as the
night was always the realm of the owl. There are even more things
I could tell you about that...they deal with the dream-time realm of
the owl, the duality of night and day, and this and that, but I'm sure
you've had enough of this book-worm cultist philosophy crud by
now. I'm fairly confident and sure that you can play connect the
dots on this concept for me, so I'm going to leave you to figure it all
out by yourself. That is the only way we make progress, is it not?
~~Tacit gives a short questioning
look to the camera, but then waves it away and steps back out into the
night.~~
TACIT: But I'm sure you already
knew all of that, huh? You don't believe in that sort of stuff,
do ya? Those ancients were just a bunch of guys who were afraid
of the dark and horrified if they broke a mirror. Those aren't
'rational' thoughts, are they? Mere superstition. Besides,
crows and ravens always followed long lines of Roman soldiers into
battle-- they were scavengers. It's just the natural order of
things, right?
~~He stops and turns to the camera
momentarily, tapping his forehead with his forefinger.~~
TACIT: But
it does sort of make you think, doesn't it? Why would someone
find the body of a highly-intelligent and sophisticated scavenger of
the skies in plain site? Wouldn't the rest of the murder have
completely destroyed the body? Well, there are a few who escape
the clutches of their failures and go rogue, but these are even more
uncommon, as the crow is a social creature. The chances of a lone
crow surviving in the wild are pretty close to nothing...they depend
too much upon the security of their watches. I guess all of our
ancient ancestors found the bodies of the rogues...the loners who hung
on long enough to not get ripped to pieces. Maybe that's why they
were so afraid of this portent of doom...
~~Tacit winks at the camera and
shakes his head, turning back around to walk. ~~
TACIT: Am I creepy enough for you yet,
Titan? Simpletons always fear what they don't understand...pass
it off as being simply something that goes bump in the night and soley
the realm of the clergy...and, slowly the clergy was replaced with
science, the new religion that explained the mysteries of the universe
in an easy-to-understand package of mathmatics and chaos theory.
What became of those old hedge-mages and sooth-sayers? Surely the
masses didn't want to fall back on 'superstition'...they would rather
be able to point at someone and call them 'creepy' or 'deranged'.
But what if these people...these people that were looked down upon and
feared...what if they could see things that the rest of the masses..the
sheep, if you will...couldn't see? What if they did know a little
about life and were simply stating the obvious to them? Yeah, I
guess we could call these guys fakes. It sure makes it easier to
sleep at night knowing that we are living in a spinning snowglobe of
mortal chaos and confusion...that there is no point to any of
this. But what if--?
~~He waves his hands around,
dismissing the issue.~~
TACIT: ...but I'm sure you don't believe
in stuff like that, huh? What about me? Do I? You
said I was creepy...that I was an angst superstar. Yeah, I'm
different...yeah, I guess I sort of look like Trent Reznor...he's a
good-looking guy I'm told...and I guess I'm creepy in that tragic hero
sense...but do I believe in superstitions and all of this other macabre
portent of doom bullshit?
~~He glances back at the camera to
give it a blank, calm stare. He shrugs.~~
TACIT: Maybe I do, maybe I don't.
What is for sure, though, is that I don't discount anything that I can
never fully understand. I can pass you off as nothing more
than a speedbump in my road to glory because I can see right through
you....but superstitions? I'll take my chances and stray away
from picking up anything the cat dragged in.
~~Tacit turns back around and
begins his trek back into the dimly-lit fog. He speaks to the
camera from over his shoulder as he fades into the darkness.~~
TACIT: Call me 'chumpion', call me
'McDonalds', call me 'McVeigh', call me 'Micky Mack', call me a fake,
call me the pope of doom and darkness and all things spooky, call me
not worthy to look at, let alone even try to take, your spot on the
shitter...a.k.a. 'throne'...call me whatever you want, Titan 3...but in
the end, I'm going to make damn sure you know the name of Mike
MacDougan. I'm going to make sure the last pointless statement
that slips over your split lips is "I was beaten by the Angst
Superstar?"
~~He disappears into the early
morning fog, leaving us with nothing more than the early-morning cries
of birds and the pattering of rain. A voice speaks to us
from the thick fog ahead.~~
TACIT: "Angst Superstar"...I like
the sound of that...
~~And the voice drops back off into
the fog...into the unkown...with a short, amused chuckle. We fade
to black.~~ |
"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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