View Full Version : McCormick v Tact

07-16-04, 12:18 AM
All RP for the match between DYLAN McCORMICK and LARRY TACT should be done in this thread.

All RP and angles should be submitted by Friday, July 23rd, at 11:59pm. All angles should be submitted to secandido@comcast.net .

07-20-04, 05:35 AM
Dylan sat in a small diner on the outskirts of San Diego. Destrucity had been over for a couple of days now, but Dylan still hadn’t gotten over the nostalgia of his first win. He was ecstatic with the fact that he had done exactly what he had foretold in beating The Red Devastator. But it wasn’t so much the fact that he had won the match, it was more the implications the match could have.

The night before, studying up for his next New Era of Wrestling match with the former World Heavyweight Champion, Larry Tact, he had watched his own match. It was during this time that he realized something that he had not noticed before, the fact that the New Era of Wrestling Vice President, Juliet Marceau, was sitting at the commentary table.\\

Dylan mulled this fact over in his mind, thinking about what it could possibly mean. Was she just there to take a look at the new talent that New Era had recruited, or was there a different, deeper motive for her being at ringside?

Suddenly, bring Dylan out of his reverie, his pocket started to vibrate. Dylan slipped his hand into the pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Flipping it open he put it to his ear. “Talk to me.”

Dylan listened for a few moments, periodically nodding at what the person on the other line had to say. Finally Dylan spoke up, a sour look crossing his face. “So what you’re telling me is that Larry Tact could have pulled out a victory if there was no interference? You have to be crazy.”

Dylan paused again, listening intently to the voice on the other end of the line. When it was his turn to speak he grinned cockily. “We need to talk about this person. I will be there in an hour, wait for me.”

-One Hour Later-
Dylan’s black Celica glided effortlessly into a reserved parking space outside of the downtown San Diego home of Gold’s Gym. The sign in front of the space said “Reserved for Gold’s Gym Customer of the Month.” Dylan didn’t care. He shut off the car and got out. With his hair tied back in a ponytail behind his head, and his trademark attire adorning his body he was ready for what he must do.

He closed the door behind him and started for the entrance like he was on a mission and the objective lay on the other side of the door. He stopped in front of the door, his cocky grin seeming to wipe away the look of determination on his face… “This could get ugly,” he whispered to himself.

Dylan pushed through the door and looked around until he saw something that brightened his day. Walking towards him was a beautiful woman with shoulder length, blonde braids, the ends dyed in red. A black mesh shirt showing of a red bra underneath tightly clung to her upper body and a pair of black, baggy, nylon cargo pants hung low on her hips showing of the straps of a thong. To top her off, she wore a pair of black and red skating shoes.

“Dylan!” the woman said as she came close to him.

“Stacy,” Dylan replied, “you changed your hair since I last was home.”

“Yeah, my overbearing parents didn’t like the green too much so, I changed it to red.”

Dylan shook his head, “They still mad at me?”

“Yeah,” Stacy said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, he’s behind the counter. What is up with you two, you have always been friends?”

Dylan again shook his head. “Wait around long enough and you may just find out.”

Stacy nodded as Dylan walked across the lobby area of the gym. She followed him, stopping right behind him when Dylan stopped right in front of the high counter that was being used as the front desk to the gym. Looking over the desk Dylan saw a rather large man sitting in a comfortable chair. The man was reading the daily news paper, and Dylan studied him for a moment. Blonde hair, cut short an d spiked crisply with entirely to much gel; brown eyes; very muscular. He wore a black tank top with a red Gold’s Gym logo on it, a pair of black and red basketball shorts, and pair of black and red basketball shoes.

Dylan cleared his throat and the man looked up. “Mikey V,” Dylan said, “always trying to have the best of both worlds.”

The man, now known as Mikey, stood up, rising significantly taller than Dylan, and walked around the counter. “Dylan McCormick and his girl, Stacy Jennings, What’s up?”

“What the hell was that damn phone call about, Mikey? You think I don’t have what it takes to beat Tact?”

Mikey made his way around the counter, stopping right in front of Dylan. Looking in to Dylan’s eyes he said, “No, McCormick, I don’t. I think you went soft. You just got lucky with The Red Devastator.”

Dylan smirked. “I went soft, huh?”


Dylan’s smirk grew into that all to familiar, cocky smile. ‘Actually, I haven’t. Need me to prove it.”

“Go ahead, punk.” Mikey flashed a smile that mirrored Dylan’s own.

Dylan looked at Stacy who took this as a hint to back up and moved backwards. Suddenly, as if in a flash of lightning, Dylan whipped around shoved the much larger man into the counter. Dylan then began to back away, only stopping once he hit the center of the room.

Mikey shook his head. “You scared, McCormick? ‘Cause you done ****ed up now.”

Dylan simply extended his arm motioning for Mikey to “bring it” with his out stretched hand. Mikey took that as his cue and surged forward with an outstretched arm, trying to clothesline Dylan. But Dylan, being to quick for the larger man, lunged forward, ducking under the clothesline. He continued the lunge into a sprint to the counter, which, in one giant leap, he vaulted onto and turned around to face Mikey.

Mikey turned to see Dylan on the counter and again shook his head. “What are you going to do…”

But Dylan cut him off as he leapt from the counter, slamming into the much larger man with a diving spear from the top of the counter. The two hit the ground, Dylan on top, and stared at each other for a long moment. Then Dylan rolled off the man and they both erupted into maniacal laughter for several minutes.

Stacy just stood by, shaking her head. “Friends.”

Finally, as the laughter subsided and the two men caught their breath, Dylan spoke up. “So, why do you think that I can’t beat Larry Tact? And give me a straight answer, will you?”

Mikey cracked an equally cocky grin and spoke up, trying to sound all important. “Well as your former trainer, I don’t think you are ready for such a challenge. I mean this is an awesome opportunity for you, but I just don’t think you have the skill to be a veteran like Tact.”

Dylan crossed his arms in front of him, the two men were still on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. “Hey, Stace, how old was that Jean character?”

Stacy thought for a second before replying, “Forty-one I believe.”

“Ok,” Dylan said, “Lary Tact was beaten by a decrepit, forty-one year old man. Pretty much my grandfather.”

“Well Dylan,” Mikey retorted, “he still was the Champ, so he is going to be attributed with much knowledge and skill.”

“He doesn’t have what you says he has, other wise he would have won.”

Mikey closed his eyes. “You have to factor in the interference.”

“Regardless of the interference, Tact would have lost,” Dylan responded. He was getting annoyed at his friend’s optimism for Tact. “Jean had his hand on the title, whether it went down the way it went down or he climbed down the later and carried the title away, it was his in the end. He had his hand on the title when he fell.

“Simply put, I am faster, younger, smarter, and better than Tact. Factor in my craziness and you have the recipe for my kind of match, pure anarchy. Tact can put me in pain, but I thrive off of that pain and it is what gets my adrenaline where it needs to be. It makes my rush soar that much higher. I can beat anyone with pure adrenaline. You have seen it before and you will see it again when I decimate Tact at Raucous. To win, he will have to kill me.”

“You might have to kill him.”

Dylan was sick of this conversation and he showed it by getting up and slowly starting for the door. “Whatever man.” And with that he and Stacy were out the door.

“Damn cocky bastard” Mikey stated to himself as he got up and went back to work.

07-22-04, 05:31 AM
Fade in: on a gym filled with bleachers, fans filling those bleachers. An amateur wrestling setup takes up the gym floor. A large white banner runs across the far wall: "State Wrestling Championships." The crowd is hot as a guy gets on the PA.

PA Guy: The next Semifinals will be at 119 pounds. Would the participants please step up!

Two 119 pounders get within the circular confines and ready themselves in the last seconds before they begin.

"He's going to win."

CUT TO: the bleachers, where we find a man with a slender figure, trimmed full beard, and shoulder-length, straight brown hair is sitting. He's got on a pair of black jeans and a button down blue shirt on. It's Et Cetera of the "Midnight Oil" radio program, and "Wrestling Wave Magazine" columnist. Next to Et Cetera, the man he is speaking with, wears a green t-shirt and baggy, stonewashed blue jeans. His straight, colored blonde hair comes down to around the ears, and his olive green eyes are focused on the match about to happen. His clean shaven face has a couple of welts on them, and a few small band aids cover cuts inflicted upon him from his match at Destrucity. It's the former Heavyweight Champion, Larry Tact. He grins and nods in agreeance with Et Cetera.

Tact: You mean Rivera?

Et Cetera: Yeah, he's a fireplug. He's going to pull this one out and advance.

Tact: I hear his opponent's got some good strength, though. He'll probably try to nail Rivera down to the mat for a pin.

Et Cetera: We'll see because here they go.

The two wrestlers lock up after a few moments. CUT TO: various sequences where one wrestler or the other scores points. Eventually, it shows Rivera down by a couple points. The clock shows :04. The crowd is really intense for the two, who have put on a solid showing. Tact is looking with his hands clasped and pressed to his chin. Et Cetera also has his hands together as the wrestlers get into position.

Et Cetera: This is going to be a crazy comeback win.

Tact: I doubt it. He gave a good effort, but down by two points with four seconds left? He's gonna need something pretty fancy to pull himself out of the fire. I don't see it happening.

Et Cetera: You're about to....

Rivera's opponent glances at the timer as it starts. Immediately Rivera takes advantage, darting in and scoring a take down. He then strikes his opponent with :01 second left. The buzzer sounds and three quarters of the crowd erupts, the rest in shock, as Rivera leaps up and yells out. The scoreboard reads, "Winner: Rivera, 12-10."

Et Cetera: What did I tell you!

Tact: (applauding) That was impressive. It's not the first time I've been surprised this week.

Fade out.....then back in, to a virtually empty gym. A few guys are cleaning out the bleachers and rolling up the mats, while Tact and Et Cetera sit on the second row of bleachers. Tact has a blue and green patterned bandanna over his hair, and covering a welt and a cut on his forehead.

Et Cetera: Mr. Tact, thanks for giving me, and Wrestling Wave Magazine, this opportunity for a sit down interview. This will be your first since the Heavyweight Title Ladder Match at NEW Destrucity, am I right?

Tact: You got it, Et.

Et Cetera: Tell me, what is it like to NOT be the NEW Heavyweight Champion for the first time in over three months? You were the first to win the belt, and now you've become the first to lose it.

Tact: Yeah, you know I didn't even consider what it would be like. Not that I thought Rabesque wasn't capable, but I didn't doubt I could beat him. I still don't.

Et Cetera: Then, I take it your opinion of Rabesque hasn't changed?

Tact: No.

Et Cetera: He DID put you down and fend off Karla Starr-- at least, long enough to grab hold of the Heavyweight Title. So he must have done something right.

Tact: I'm still not completely sure WHY Karla Starr has involved herself with this. She's not wanted in my business, and she certainly didn't help things. As for Rabesque, yeah he did one thing right that I can't take away from him. He showed up. After that, I did the work for him.

Et Cetera: I don't know if that's an intended insult or an admission of some sort. Either way, it sounds like you aren't giving Jean Rabesque a shred of due. Could you elaborate?

Tact: All I have to say right now is....when you're a top tier competitor, and someone gets themselves stuck in your window of opportunity, eventually you're going to capitalize and slip by them.

Et Cetera: I think I get the picture. You're saying that--

Tact: If anyone doesn't understand what I mean, then they can tune into HBO when the next NEW Raucous airs. Cuz there, I'll give everyone all the explanation needed.

Et Cetera: Fair enough. Speaking of Raucous, you've got to be thinking about other things than the new World Champion. For one thing, you were chosen for this "Lethal Lottery" show, by President LaRoque and Vice President Marceau. Your opponent will be Dylan McCormick, one of the promising young talents in New Era of Wrestling. What do you think of Dylan?

Tact: He's 1-0 after Destrucity. I was 1-0 in Ladder Matches before Destrucity. It doesn't mean a whole lot, cuz there's not much to go off of. From what I hear, he's pretty sure of himself...wants people to believe he's got the biggest set around. I'm not impressed, and for his sake, I hope MWG doesn't find out Dylan is talking about such things.

Et Cetera: (chuckles) Yes, well...he managed to find a way past Red Devastator, another young stud of NEW, and a big man at that. It certainly shows Dylan's got some tricks up his sleeve, and some skill to pull them off.

Tact: Tricks? This isn't magic, its wrestling. Dylan McCormick's got guts, and judging by Destrucity, he's got more guts than brains. The kid wants to run circles? That's fine, in a double debut match. But against a veteran, this kid's going to discover why wrestling-- TRUE wrestling -- doesn't fit the stereotype at all. He's going to figure out why brains beat guts, and experience beats adrenaline. You can run all you want. Hop on the turnbuckles, bounce off the ropes, roll on the mat, roll out of the ring, grope your girlfriend, and dive back in before the count of ten for all I care! Once you're done, or once I get tired of seeing you doing your best "my anti-drug is adrenaline" act....I'll pick you off, floor you, and show you how fast that rush can just....disappear, suddenly, for no reason you want to believe. Like you just got a taste of what a true blue technician can do in half the time it takes you to do your jumping bean act.

Et Cetera: So you don't feel that Dylan McCormick can match you with his adrenaline?

Tact: I feel that Dylan McCormick wants to believe wrestling is like sex. When you're feeling it, you don't think you can be stopped 'til you've gotten what you want. Personally, I don't know if Dylan got the memo. You know...the one that says people don't just stand stationary in the ring, waiting for you to do your thing. It's a battle zone, not a talent show. If you think you can own that ring, that's fine. But don't think you won't have to FIGHT for ownership. And as a newcomer, don't think anyone else thinks you own more than your own (BLEEP)...if that. At Raucous, the ring will be Dylan McCormick's for about a minute and a half. From the time he enters to the time I step between the ropes. He's going to find out a simple, but HUMBLING lesson. You don't run the company on your second day in the cubicle. You might THINK you do, and that's fine. It's just your sanity going while you're in the box. (shudders) I could never work in a cubicle....

Et Cetera: (laughs) Amen to that. I can't help but notice we're in the gym where State Championships were just held. Why did you want to come here?

Tact: I thought maybe I could pick up a pointer or two..(grins) Honestly though, the past few days I've needed to clear my head, and this was a nice change of pace.

Et Cetera: There was certainly some crisp, exciting chain wrestling here tonight. Now, you had a Main Event match with Rabesque at Destrucity, packed with intensity and excitement. What was running through your head afterwards?

Tact: Not a whole lot, surprisingly. I was shocked, so only a few things really registered. I wasn't Champion anymore...Karla Starr was in NEW...I wasn't Champion anymore. I really didn't know what to make of it all at the time. But I'm feeling much better right now.

Et Cetera: You may have lost a title, but you seemed to gain an ally in Suicide. How did that come about?

Tact: Suicide and I go way back, but since we entered the circuit we've held our own and, for the most part, walked our own paths. But now the time has come when, after years of showing we can do just fine flying solo, we show the same can be said for us when we're united.

Et Cetera: Will Dylan McCormick find out, first hand?

Tact: He's my opponent for Raucous, isn't he? There's no choice for him. The New Era is not stopping for Dylan McCormick. He's going to have to face up to it, and hope the wave doesn't wipe him out, by the time the bell ends the match. It boils down to something real simple. I don't go out to wrestle every match, giving the best I have on a given night, so somebody else can benefit. I do it for MY benefit, so I can continue paving MY legacy. I've broken through to the top already, and I held that spot from better people than a thrill seeker. If Dylan McCormick wants pain...hell, whether he wants pain or not, he's going to receive it if he steps into the ring with me.

Et Cetera: Being the thrill seeker he is, you don't think Dylan will thrive on the pain?

Tact: Thrive? He won't thrive. He won't enjoy what comes with the pain, or else he'd let me go to work on him without attempting to stop me. I can see MWG pulling a stunt like that, but not this kid. I don't care who you are...with enough damage inflicted on you, you'll shut down. Your body won't do what you tell it to after a while, cuz the pain will keep that arm from moving, or that leg from bending. And then, you'll realize that all the "fun" you were having from that pain? Damn...it's rendered you immobile...or you've become a little gimpy from it. And now you're that much more at the mercy of your opponent. I thought Dylan would've learned at least that much from his match with Red Devastator. You can THINK what you want, but your body won't always agree with your mind. Dylan can go on THINKING about how much he'll thrive off pain, but when the bell rings, if he isn't ready to wrestle, he won't even SURVIVE what's coming for him, much less have a chance to win.

Et Cetera: Well, I think that's about as cut and dry as it'll get. Anything else you want to add?

Tact: New Era of Wrestling may have had the Heavyweight Championship HIJACKED by a past era wrestler, but the New Era lives on. I will CONTINUE to be the example setter, the symbol bearer, and the true standard setter for any and all of New Era of Wrestling to admire. Cuz when you think about it, I AM going to set yet another great example for others. I'm going to show how one loss should not stop someone from continuing to succeed. I WILL continue to succeed, rising back to the top, and there...I WILL reclaim the title, and be the World Heavyweight Champion once again. But it will only END with the World Heavyweight Champion-- whether that's Jean Rabesque, or not -- that's not for now. For the time being, it will begin again at Raucous...I will begin again, at Raucous...and I will begin with Dylan McCormick.

Fade out.