Roleplay runs from Friday, May 11 to Friday, May 18. 2 RP max in this round. (I won't bite if you post on Thursday the 10th, I promise.)
Round 2: Mikey Massacre vs. Alias
- Thread starter Chad
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MikeyMassacre
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- Oct 4, 2008
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[FADEIN: a REBEL Pro Wrestling logo, then the words A ROB MARTINEZ PRODUCTION, then INTERNET EXCLUSIVE.]
[CUTTO: Mikey Massacre, scratching his massive, graying beard with his thumb and simultaneously scratching his poorly-shaven head with the other four fingers, enters a REBEL Pro Wrestling studio. A massive black REBEL Pro banner serves as a backdrop over a brick wall, and two steel chairs facing each other. Rob Martinez, former play-by-play man and current talent relations/DVD producer for REBEL Pro, is sitting in one of them and waves as Mikey enters.]
ROB MARTINEZ: Mikey Massacre! It has been a long time!
[Martinez stands and extends a hand. Mikey shakes it with a smile.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Rob Martinez, I haven’t seen you in… what? Two years?
ROB MARTINEZ: Actually, I interviewed you last September for the Best of Mikey Massacre DVD. You don’t remember?
[Mikey’s smile turns upside down.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Oh, yes, I remember… I was mad at you because the DVD was not called Volume 1, therefore asserting that my career was over, that the memories had been made, that I was an afterthought, that I—
ROB MARTINEZ: —Mikey, let’s not go down that road. You know if I had any pull it would’ve been Volume 1.
MIKEY MASSACRE: Yeah, yeah.
[Mikey sits.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Is it at least the highest-grossing DVD? Or up there at least?
ROB MARTINEZ: Um, yeah, it’s doing really well.
MIKEY MASSACRE: Be straight with me, Rob. Who’s on top of mine?
ROB MARTINEZ: Oh, well, you know, I’m not really involved in the DVD selling, just the producing and whatnot.
MIKEY MASSACRE: You’re afraid I’m going to attack you or something, aren’t you?
[Rob blushes.]
ROB MARTINEZ: No. Well, I don’t know. I mean, I know you’re back on your medication. I can tell because your eyes don’t have that… look. But… during Round 1…
MIKEY MASSACRE: I know, I know. I don’t know what happened.
ROB MARTINEZ: Low blow and a roll up… that sounds a lot more like Michael Massacre than Mikey Massacre.
[Mikey looks down, disappointed.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: I know… I was surprised myself.
ROB MARTINEZ: What do you mean?
MIKEY MASSACRE: Not sure if it’s my various mental impairments, my occasional youthful marijuana usage, the steel chairs to the head, or what… but my memory is slipping. After the match, I was showering, all amped up because I won the match—I never forgot that—but then it dawned on me: I didn’t remember how I won! I left the shower, still had shampoo in my hair—
ROB MARTINEZ: —your head is shaved.
MIKEY MASSACRE: Like I said, ****ty memory. So, there I am, wearing a towel, shampoo in my hair—or on my head—stumbling around backstage, asking these ESEN folks who I don’t know, who don’t know me, who are wondering why this weirdo is half-naked wandering around backstage, asking them how I won my match. Finally one guy remembers, and tells me I low blow-ed the sum***** and rolled him up. Part of me is real disappointed… I’m the guy who likes to put on a good match for the fans, who likes to have the **** kicked out of him, who purposely lets himself get beat up just so he can mount a huge comeback, and here’s my opportunity in front of the most people I’ve probably ever wrestled in front of… and I pull that ****ing ****? But the other part of me thinks: you know what, these people don’t know who the hell I am. I’m not handsome. I’m about as marketable as a government bond. They don’t give a **** about me, and until I pull off some big upset, they won’t be invested in me anyways. And me beating Azreal, especially since he made absolutely no effort to introduce himself to the fans, that wasn’t going to do it anyways. I’m just 1 of the 128. A guy under the radar. A guy absolutely no one is picking to win this thing, a guy no one is picking to even make it to Round 3.
ROB MARTINEZ: So you are still Mikey then?
MIKEY MASSACRE: Yeah, I’m a good boy, but clearly, given what happened versus Azreal, Michael still lingers within me. But here, sitting with you, I’m feeling good. I’m feeling like the guy who came out to “All Right Now” by Free, not “Heavy Metal Machine” by the Smashing Pumpkins. So let’s get this interview started. That tape rolling?
ROB MARTINEZ: Sure is. Now your opponent is—it is fair to say—more well-known than you. A little more mainstream, if you will. The Vegas oddsmakers are clearly behind him. He is much farther ahead than you in most people’s pools. And everyone’s talking about how smooth he looked in his match versus Black, going toe-for-toe, hold-for-hold, seemingly with ease. How does this enter your pre-match preparations?
MIKEY MASSACRE: I ****ing love it. Azreal was this big monster, seven foot whatever, three hundred whatever. On paper, it almost looked entirely infeasible that I could win. I was smaller, shorter, older, etcetera. Against Alias, I’m also smaller, shorter, and older, but now throw on top of that the fact no one thinks I can win—except for maybe some REBEL Pro and NAPW faithful—and I am driven to win. I want to shock people. I want to create the upset that makes people take notice. Alias can do that. Alias is established enough. I want to be the Round 2 story. I want to make ESEN cover the fact that this ugly mug, who hasn’t bought new clothes since ’89, defeated the tuxedo-wearing, cool cigarette-smoking dude with all sorts of clever names. I like making people cringe. And when this ugly bastard covers Alias for the one-two-three, they will do just that. Cringe. And then they will cry and complain because Alias busted their brackets just like Dan Ryan ego-busted their brackets in Round 1. And then I will take their tears, and use them as lube, and I will—
ROB MARTINEZ: —perhaps time for the next question?
MIKEY MASSACRE: I’m getting carried away, aren’t I? Sure, go ahead.
ROB MARTINEZ: What would winning the ULTRATITLE mean to you?
[Mikey leans back in his chair and smirks. He scratches his scalp and ponders.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: I’ve been in this business for twenty-five or something years. CSWA was the promotion everyone wanted a shot in. Including me. I knew it was a longshot just based on my look, the fact I am not really a natural athlete, and based on the fact… I ****ing sucked. It took me years to get better at this sport. To learn what worked and what didn’t. I’m the latest bloomer there ever was. When I finally started picking up some wins, it was only because I had embraced an aspect of this sport that CSWA wasn’t really into. CSWA has had its wars, sure, but I was wrestling in barbed wire matches twice a week, going through tables, one, two, three stacked on top of each other... not quite what they were looking for. So it’s not surprising they overlooked me when I sucked—and it’s equally not surprising they overlooked me when I finally started winning. But here I am—here I am! I’m now a guy who can wrestle several different styles, who doesn’t need a steel chair in my hand or barbed wire wrapped around my fist to know what to do.
[Mikey smiles.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: It was an honor to be invited here. One of the 128! Now, to some, it was obvious they’d be picked. Guys like Alias had to know they’d be chosen—they have the credentials, the resumes, etcetera. But for a guy like me, this is a big ****ing deal! I know this is the only chance I’ll ever have to have my name associated with the likes of Michael Manson or Nova or CS Enterprises. Even if I make it to the final four, or the final two, I’ll only be remembered as something other than a fluke if I win the entire ****ing thing. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Starting with Azreal, onto Alias, then onto whoever-the-****, this ugly unmarketable asshole is going to win the ULTRATITLE!
[FADEOUT.]
[CUTTO: Mikey Massacre, scratching his massive, graying beard with his thumb and simultaneously scratching his poorly-shaven head with the other four fingers, enters a REBEL Pro Wrestling studio. A massive black REBEL Pro banner serves as a backdrop over a brick wall, and two steel chairs facing each other. Rob Martinez, former play-by-play man and current talent relations/DVD producer for REBEL Pro, is sitting in one of them and waves as Mikey enters.]
ROB MARTINEZ: Mikey Massacre! It has been a long time!
[Martinez stands and extends a hand. Mikey shakes it with a smile.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Rob Martinez, I haven’t seen you in… what? Two years?
ROB MARTINEZ: Actually, I interviewed you last September for the Best of Mikey Massacre DVD. You don’t remember?
[Mikey’s smile turns upside down.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Oh, yes, I remember… I was mad at you because the DVD was not called Volume 1, therefore asserting that my career was over, that the memories had been made, that I was an afterthought, that I—
ROB MARTINEZ: —Mikey, let’s not go down that road. You know if I had any pull it would’ve been Volume 1.
MIKEY MASSACRE: Yeah, yeah.
[Mikey sits.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Is it at least the highest-grossing DVD? Or up there at least?
ROB MARTINEZ: Um, yeah, it’s doing really well.
MIKEY MASSACRE: Be straight with me, Rob. Who’s on top of mine?
ROB MARTINEZ: Oh, well, you know, I’m not really involved in the DVD selling, just the producing and whatnot.
MIKEY MASSACRE: You’re afraid I’m going to attack you or something, aren’t you?
[Rob blushes.]
ROB MARTINEZ: No. Well, I don’t know. I mean, I know you’re back on your medication. I can tell because your eyes don’t have that… look. But… during Round 1…
MIKEY MASSACRE: I know, I know. I don’t know what happened.
ROB MARTINEZ: Low blow and a roll up… that sounds a lot more like Michael Massacre than Mikey Massacre.
[Mikey looks down, disappointed.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: I know… I was surprised myself.
ROB MARTINEZ: What do you mean?
MIKEY MASSACRE: Not sure if it’s my various mental impairments, my occasional youthful marijuana usage, the steel chairs to the head, or what… but my memory is slipping. After the match, I was showering, all amped up because I won the match—I never forgot that—but then it dawned on me: I didn’t remember how I won! I left the shower, still had shampoo in my hair—
ROB MARTINEZ: —your head is shaved.
MIKEY MASSACRE: Like I said, ****ty memory. So, there I am, wearing a towel, shampoo in my hair—or on my head—stumbling around backstage, asking these ESEN folks who I don’t know, who don’t know me, who are wondering why this weirdo is half-naked wandering around backstage, asking them how I won my match. Finally one guy remembers, and tells me I low blow-ed the sum***** and rolled him up. Part of me is real disappointed… I’m the guy who likes to put on a good match for the fans, who likes to have the **** kicked out of him, who purposely lets himself get beat up just so he can mount a huge comeback, and here’s my opportunity in front of the most people I’ve probably ever wrestled in front of… and I pull that ****ing ****? But the other part of me thinks: you know what, these people don’t know who the hell I am. I’m not handsome. I’m about as marketable as a government bond. They don’t give a **** about me, and until I pull off some big upset, they won’t be invested in me anyways. And me beating Azreal, especially since he made absolutely no effort to introduce himself to the fans, that wasn’t going to do it anyways. I’m just 1 of the 128. A guy under the radar. A guy absolutely no one is picking to win this thing, a guy no one is picking to even make it to Round 3.
ROB MARTINEZ: So you are still Mikey then?
MIKEY MASSACRE: Yeah, I’m a good boy, but clearly, given what happened versus Azreal, Michael still lingers within me. But here, sitting with you, I’m feeling good. I’m feeling like the guy who came out to “All Right Now” by Free, not “Heavy Metal Machine” by the Smashing Pumpkins. So let’s get this interview started. That tape rolling?
ROB MARTINEZ: Sure is. Now your opponent is—it is fair to say—more well-known than you. A little more mainstream, if you will. The Vegas oddsmakers are clearly behind him. He is much farther ahead than you in most people’s pools. And everyone’s talking about how smooth he looked in his match versus Black, going toe-for-toe, hold-for-hold, seemingly with ease. How does this enter your pre-match preparations?
MIKEY MASSACRE: I ****ing love it. Azreal was this big monster, seven foot whatever, three hundred whatever. On paper, it almost looked entirely infeasible that I could win. I was smaller, shorter, older, etcetera. Against Alias, I’m also smaller, shorter, and older, but now throw on top of that the fact no one thinks I can win—except for maybe some REBEL Pro and NAPW faithful—and I am driven to win. I want to shock people. I want to create the upset that makes people take notice. Alias can do that. Alias is established enough. I want to be the Round 2 story. I want to make ESEN cover the fact that this ugly mug, who hasn’t bought new clothes since ’89, defeated the tuxedo-wearing, cool cigarette-smoking dude with all sorts of clever names. I like making people cringe. And when this ugly bastard covers Alias for the one-two-three, they will do just that. Cringe. And then they will cry and complain because Alias busted their brackets just like Dan Ryan ego-busted their brackets in Round 1. And then I will take their tears, and use them as lube, and I will—
ROB MARTINEZ: —perhaps time for the next question?
MIKEY MASSACRE: I’m getting carried away, aren’t I? Sure, go ahead.
ROB MARTINEZ: What would winning the ULTRATITLE mean to you?
[Mikey leans back in his chair and smirks. He scratches his scalp and ponders.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: I’ve been in this business for twenty-five or something years. CSWA was the promotion everyone wanted a shot in. Including me. I knew it was a longshot just based on my look, the fact I am not really a natural athlete, and based on the fact… I ****ing sucked. It took me years to get better at this sport. To learn what worked and what didn’t. I’m the latest bloomer there ever was. When I finally started picking up some wins, it was only because I had embraced an aspect of this sport that CSWA wasn’t really into. CSWA has had its wars, sure, but I was wrestling in barbed wire matches twice a week, going through tables, one, two, three stacked on top of each other... not quite what they were looking for. So it’s not surprising they overlooked me when I sucked—and it’s equally not surprising they overlooked me when I finally started winning. But here I am—here I am! I’m now a guy who can wrestle several different styles, who doesn’t need a steel chair in my hand or barbed wire wrapped around my fist to know what to do.
[Mikey smiles.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: It was an honor to be invited here. One of the 128! Now, to some, it was obvious they’d be picked. Guys like Alias had to know they’d be chosen—they have the credentials, the resumes, etcetera. But for a guy like me, this is a big ****ing deal! I know this is the only chance I’ll ever have to have my name associated with the likes of Michael Manson or Nova or CS Enterprises. Even if I make it to the final four, or the final two, I’ll only be remembered as something other than a fluke if I win the entire ****ing thing. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Starting with Azreal, onto Alias, then onto whoever-the-****, this ugly unmarketable asshole is going to win the ULTRATITLE!
[FADEOUT.]
MikeyMassacre
New member
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2008
- Messages
- 79
- Points
- 0
[FADEIN: a bored Mikey Massacre. He is sitting on the floor of an unfinished basement holding one of those small rubber balls Rocky Balboa bounced around. He throws it up and catches it, then bounces it off of the floor, the far wall, and back to him.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Damn, I’m getting good at this!
[He does it a few more times, but just before you get bored and decide to watch the promos of someone else in the ULTRATITLE tournament, he catches the ball and turns to the camera.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Well, here we are again, folks. Mikey Massacre versus another man of few words. All I have to do all day is train and watch videos—I like the back-and-forth! But alas, in this tourney thus far, it is me against the mutes. In Round One, it was Azreal who decided to keep his mouth shut rather than speak to me or to the fans. Now it’s Alias. Now, I don’t know much about Azreal, but he strikes me as a man who tends to keep quiet. You know, the demonic evil monster type. Lurks in the shadows, speaks slowly and monotone, using as few words as possible… but Alias struck me as the type of guy who likes to talk. A guy who likes to talk about all of his nicknames, all seventeen of them; pretend it’s the 1970s and cigarettes are suddenly cool again; or talk about his million and one accomplishments. I mean, at least that’s what he did in Round One. But now he’s quiet. Perhaps he doesn’t have time to shoot a promo. Perhaps he is spending all of time strategizing. Perhaps he is running miles, lifting hundreds, and studying everything about me.
[Mikey shrugs.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: It doesn’t matter, really, if he gives a promo. I mean, it should. The promos are what sell the tickets, and that’s how we get paid, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if he delivers a promo or not. It doesn’t matter if the fans care about our match. All that matters, at least all that truly matters, is what happens in between, and occasionally outside, those ropes. You can be the quietest man ESEN has ever had, but go on and kick ass. For some strange reason, I can’t think of an occasion, not sure why, but in theory, it is entirely possible.
However…
… that is not what’s going to happen next week. No, no! Because, Chris, Alias, Tin Whatever, last week I showed absolutely nothing to those who had never watched NAPW or REBEL Pro… I won in two seconds, a crappy low-blow and roll-up. Mikey Massacre did not gain anymore followers on Twitter, friends on Facebook, but next week—NEXT WEEK! Next week, Mikey Massacre shows ESEN, CSWA, ABC, NBC, CBS, ESPN, whoever-the-****, that I am HERE! And that I am HERE to win this whole ****ing thing. Not by low-blows and roll-ups, but by giving everything I have, just like I’ve done my entire life.
Chris, Alias, Tin Whatever, Man of a Thousand and One Names… my name is Mikey Massacre. You, and everyone else, have no idea who that is.
But by Round 3?
[Mikey smiles.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: You will.
[Mikey smiles. We see a quick flicker of the sadistic Michael Massacre, but it quickly returns back to the lovable Mikey. He goes back to bouncing the ball. FADEOUT.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Damn, I’m getting good at this!
[He does it a few more times, but just before you get bored and decide to watch the promos of someone else in the ULTRATITLE tournament, he catches the ball and turns to the camera.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: Well, here we are again, folks. Mikey Massacre versus another man of few words. All I have to do all day is train and watch videos—I like the back-and-forth! But alas, in this tourney thus far, it is me against the mutes. In Round One, it was Azreal who decided to keep his mouth shut rather than speak to me or to the fans. Now it’s Alias. Now, I don’t know much about Azreal, but he strikes me as a man who tends to keep quiet. You know, the demonic evil monster type. Lurks in the shadows, speaks slowly and monotone, using as few words as possible… but Alias struck me as the type of guy who likes to talk. A guy who likes to talk about all of his nicknames, all seventeen of them; pretend it’s the 1970s and cigarettes are suddenly cool again; or talk about his million and one accomplishments. I mean, at least that’s what he did in Round One. But now he’s quiet. Perhaps he doesn’t have time to shoot a promo. Perhaps he is spending all of time strategizing. Perhaps he is running miles, lifting hundreds, and studying everything about me.
[Mikey shrugs.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: It doesn’t matter, really, if he gives a promo. I mean, it should. The promos are what sell the tickets, and that’s how we get paid, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if he delivers a promo or not. It doesn’t matter if the fans care about our match. All that matters, at least all that truly matters, is what happens in between, and occasionally outside, those ropes. You can be the quietest man ESEN has ever had, but go on and kick ass. For some strange reason, I can’t think of an occasion, not sure why, but in theory, it is entirely possible.
However…
… that is not what’s going to happen next week. No, no! Because, Chris, Alias, Tin Whatever, last week I showed absolutely nothing to those who had never watched NAPW or REBEL Pro… I won in two seconds, a crappy low-blow and roll-up. Mikey Massacre did not gain anymore followers on Twitter, friends on Facebook, but next week—NEXT WEEK! Next week, Mikey Massacre shows ESEN, CSWA, ABC, NBC, CBS, ESPN, whoever-the-****, that I am HERE! And that I am HERE to win this whole ****ing thing. Not by low-blows and roll-ups, but by giving everything I have, just like I’ve done my entire life.
Chris, Alias, Tin Whatever, Man of a Thousand and One Names… my name is Mikey Massacre. You, and everyone else, have no idea who that is.
But by Round 3?
[Mikey smiles.]
MIKEY MASSACRE: You will.
[Mikey smiles. We see a quick flicker of the sadistic Michael Massacre, but it quickly returns back to the lovable Mikey. He goes back to bouncing the ball. FADEOUT.]