View Full Version : Dark Match: Matthew v McMillan

01-26-06, 05:13 AM
All RP for the dark match between MATTHEW and CHRIS McMILLAN at RAUCOUS should be done in this folder. Any RP posted outside of the folder will not count.

The RP deadline is 11:59pm on Thursday, February 3rd. Angles should be sent to sedmunds@goucher.edu ..

01-26-06, 08:40 PM
(Camera fades in to show a brightly lit hallway.
Suddenly, there's a shout from behind the cameraman. The camera suddenly whirls around, and catches Matthew storming down the hall, muttering angrily to himself. It's obvious he's in a foul mood)

Matthew: Out of my way! I'm not in the mood for this right now!

(He continues walking. Camera follows. Matthew then reaches his locker room, and opens the door. Just as he's about to close it, the cameraman rushes in. There's then the sound of the door slamming behind him. Matthew turns around, and sees the cameraman, and is obviously irritated)

Matthew: You people are that desperate huh? Fine, I'll talk. I'm sure you saw me lose to Trevor Cane last week. *Sighs* Thank God it was just a dark match, so hardly anyone really got to see it. Doesn't really matter that much. Still, it hurts to lose a match, especially when it's your first match!

(Matthew sits down a chair, still a little upset)

Matthew: I'm sure you can tell that I'm pissed right now. And more than anything, I'd love to be able the beat Cane's ass right now. But enough about Trevor Cane, since he's in a different match. I'm afraid I'll have to take out my aggression on Chris McMillan, this guy who calls himself "The Wolf". Another dark match, but this time, I'm gonna be sure that my hand is the one that gets raised. As I said earlier, Cane has made me a very pissed off man. And when that happens, people get hurt. And at RAUCOUS, McMillan will be the first man to feel the pain. If New ERA is going to pull out all the stops with this upcoming show, so will I.

(He stands up, and turns around, looking into a mirror, now calm. He stares at his reflection for a few seconds)

Matthew: Trevor Cane caught a taste of my abilities, but Chris McMillan, at RAUCOUS, you're going to get a full serving of it. Here's how it's gonna go down; I'm gonna beat him down, then grab him by the waist; lift him up ever so high, then raise him up a little bit higher.... Then BAM! Mile-High Bomb! One, two, three, Chris McMillan is going down, and any shred of doubt that anyone has about me is going to go flying out the window.

(Matthew stares into the camera)

Matthew: I'll see you on the third, Chris McMillan. No more playing nice.... It's time to get hardcore!

(Camera fades out)

Mister Dread
01-28-06, 07:58 PM
::FADEIN on the NEW banner backstage. “THE WOLF” CHRIS McMILLAN stands there, attired as usual in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a tattered “Dogs of War” t-shirt. A knee-length trench coat and fingerless weightlifting gloves completes the look, which is to say that he sorta looks like a hobo. His appearance is almost shockingly different than the last time he was on the roster, trading in the greaser style DA for a wave of thick black hair that cascades down to the middle of his back. Big ol’ mutton chop sideburns frame his face, which is decidedly more feral than the last time we saw him. McMillan has put on a lot of bulk during his off time, thanks to good supplements and … well, maybe a little FOKRUCITY rubbed off on him at some point. McMillan smiles winningly at the camera, though in truth his grin is a little more off-putting than he might think::

THE WOLF: Matthew … I saw you on TV the other week promising Trevor Cane that the dawning of a new era was at hand. I had to giggle. See, if I had a nickel for every schmuck who came in from the indy circuit promising to turn the wrestling world on it’s ear, I’d be able to buy my old lady the new set of boobs that I’ve always wanted her to want. See, Matthew … oddly, I’m not impressed with anything you’ve got to say. It’s been my opinion, oft-expressed whether you want it or not, that it doesn’t matter what you say or who you say it too. The only thing that matters is what you do, and the only thing I’ve seen you do so far is get your ass handed to you by “The Messenger” Trevor Cane.

McMillan’s smile widens. He’s genial, gesturing grandly, but the glint in his eye isn’t very reassuring at all::

THE WOLF: Think about that for a minute, son. You spoke of a new era in … New Era. Nice play on words, by the way. I’m absolutely certain that it hasn’t already been said three-hundred and twenty thousand times. Anyway, you came touting your new era, and look what happened. You’ve really got to sit down and consider that. It was a loss. Sure, we all have them. But was it a fluke? Was it, as you must imagine, just your bad luck that cost you the match? That’s what you tell yourself, I’m sure. But when you’re lying in bed at night, when the last vestiges of the day are clinging to your brain despite your best efforts to shut it off and just go to sleep … THAT’S when the subconscious kicks in. That’s when the gears really start turning, and you’re forced to consider that maybe it wasn’t a fluke. Maybe it wasn’t bad luck. Maybe you’re just a schmuck, a nobody, some loser off the street that thought they could make an easy living in a wrestling ring. After all, how hard could it be, right? You’ve been watching it on TV all your life. You know the moves, right? How hard could it really be?

::The Wolf stops smiling, his face dead and expressionless as his voice drops to a sibilant hiss::

THE WOLF: You’re about to find out just how hard it really can be. You’ve made the big leagues. Go ahead and pat yourself on the back while you’ve still got a hand to do it with. A few wins on the independent circuit means less than nothing to guys like me. My career isn’t measured by wins and losses, son. It’s measured by survival. You talk about shedding blood, sweat, and tears on the road to NEW, but you don’t know the first freakin’ thing about paying your dues. When you’ve found yourself reduced to sleeping in your car to make ends meet, when you’ve found yourself in the hospital with no memory of the match that put you there … when you feel the vertebrae of your best friend’s neck snap between your hands, THEN you can talk to me about what this business has taken from you, what dues you’ve paid. The … lovely Ms. Marceau told me that if I wanted to come over and play in the NEW sandbox I’d have to start at the bottom. Guess what that makes you …

THE WOLF: That’s right, the bottom of the barrel. Matthew, the Hardcore Kid … Let me tell you a little something about hardcore. Hardcore is about wrapping yourself in barbed wire and going for the throat of men three times your size. Hardcore is jumping from the top of a thirty foot cage in the hopes that you can hurt the other guy a little more than you hurt yourself. Hardcore is watching Jason Payne come out to the ring in fishnet. No, Matthew, you don’t know ANYTHING about hardcore. Once you’re in the ring with me, though, you might get a lesson. If you’re conscious long enough.


OORP Edit: I hate dial-up. Sorry for any duplicate posts or anything, the site is acting screwy ...

Mister Dread
02-02-06, 03:11 PM
::FADEIN on the interior of the Basham-Schultz Wrestling Academy, the training ground and second home of the Dogs of War. “The Wolf” Chris McMillan stands in the center of the ring, attired in the usual jeans, motorcycle boots, knee-length coat, and a t-shirt that reads "INSERT CATCH PHRASE HERE". He turns, slowly taking in the environment of the gym. The ring no longer sags, the tattered turnbuckles had been replaced, and everything had received a thorough cleaning and painting since the last time McMillan stood in the ring::

THE WOLF: I’ve spent so much time in this ring … training, always training. I retired more than a year ago, and I haven’t been here since. When I left this place it was dim, dank … the ring was broken down, the equipment old and rickety. The walls were grimy, covered with cobwebs. The place stank of blood, sweat, old coffee, and cigars. It was a comfortable, familiar place. I’ve been gone from this place for a while, and now everything has changed. Jason Payne has been busy in here, replacing, repairing, renovating … at least, he was busy, until he went off the deep end.

::McMillan turns in a slow circle, absorbing the changes to the place::

THE WOLF: This place, this ring … it’s all shiny and new. Different. Here is evidence of change in a place I though was completely unchanging.

THE WOLF: Before I made my decision to retire, I turned to my friends for counsel. Shane Southern’s advice? Well, he wasn’t really offering any. Instead, I got a superkick and a powerbomb from a man I thought was one of my best friends and strongest allies. Cameron Cruise? His solution to the problem was to provide me with a set of boobs to wave in the referee’s face if I got in trouble in the ring. Thanks a lot. I’m not trying to take anything away from Karla Starr, but a valet was not what I needed. Ultimately, what I needed was a reason to continue, and that was something that nobody could provide.

::McMillan hops up and perches on the top turnbuckle as the camera comes in close::

THE WOLF: See, in the months leading up to my retirement, I had some high-profile matches. I had been struggling for so long, and now the goal was in sight. Commentators, wrestling columnists, and fans alike had been saying the same thing for a long time … that I was hovering just under the glass ceiling, unable to break through. I thought that all of that was about to end. I was given opportunities. I was placed in the ring with the very best this business has to offer. Shane Southern. Joey Melton. Eddie Mayfield. Hornet. I went toe-to-toe with some of the biggest names, some of the most gifted men in professional wrestling. I lost.

THE WOLF: I did what you must be doing right now, Matthew. I was sitting in my hotel room, thinking about the matches I’d had, and what I’d done wrong. Finally, I was forced to consider the fact that I hadn’t done anything wrong. There were no flukes, no accidents. I was beaten, each and every time.

THE WOLF: So that was it. I had my choice. I could spend my life at the top of the bottom, or at the bottom of the top. I could be the 32-time Television champion in whatever promotion I was working for, or I could be the upper card enhancement talent. Just another warm body for the heavyweight champion to go through before the next Pay-Per-View. I decided that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my career doing either of those two things. I walked away.

THE WOLF: Yet I stand before you all again. Once again, I put on my wrestling boots and step into the ring. When I went into the Fleet Centre in Boston and hijacked RAUCOUS, it wasn’t to make a comeback The only reason I was there was to address Jason Payne. Yet … in spite of the fact that I crashed the party, Juliet Marceau offered me a contract. I sat backstage through the rest of the show, and I stared hard at that contract. I didn’t come here to be a wrestler again. I didn’t want to go back on the road, living in hotels and eating microwave food. I didn’t want to come back and make an endless bid for a title I’d never hold. Still, though … I signed my name on the contract. I’m still not sure what made me do it, but once it was done, well … I felt sorta like this gym. Restored. Renewed. I felt … good.

THE WOLF: I look around here, and I see change. I look to the wrestling world, but that hasn’t changed and it probably never will. The only thing that’s really changed is me.

THE WOLF: So now I’m back. There are a few people that I need to make amends, people I treated badly on the way out. Matthew … you’re not one of them. In fact, my entire goal at this point is to treat you badly. You talked earlier about taking your frustrations out on me. Good luck. See, I’m the guy that swore up and down that I would never quit, never give up, and never give anything less than my all. I failed in my conviction when I walked away from wrestling. I gave up a part of my soul, if you will. I dealt myself a more grievous injury than any opponent ever has. Guess who I’m gonna take that out on? See you ‘round, Matthew.