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X-treme Wrestling Federation »  RP Archive » Archives » "Bad Medicine" RP Board (May 23, 2015)
"Loverboy" - Bad Medicine (For LH Harrison)
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Vincent Lane Offline
Rock n' Rolling XWF Owner and Megastar
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#1
05-14-2015, 09:29 PM




Immediately Following Madfare –



Backstage of the U.S. Bank Arena in Cincinnati, “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane stumbles backstage to find Kirk MacClay hiding in his makeshift office.

The bruised and battered Loverboy kicks the door open and throws the Hart Championship belt down onto Kirk’s desk, pounding his fist onto the wooden tabletop and pointing an accusing finger into the Madness GM’s face.

“Kirk, you sneaky little snake in the god damn grass… this was a fucking set-up from the start!”

MacClay stands up slowly from his chair and backs away, never taking his eyes off of Loverboy’s shaking hands.

“Vinnie… relax… you’re hurt and confused…”

“Hurt and confused? HURT AND CONFUSED? Fuck you, KIRK, or should I just call you ‘Mister MacClay’ from here on out? You’re supposed to have my back and yet here I am getting ready for the biggest match of my life and you’re agreeing to feed me to the lions of the Asylum earlier in the show?”

“Vinnie, I told you… the board…”

“FUCK the board! I’M the Madness Champion and YOU are the Madness GM. I’M the reason you get to call yourself that, if you remember, dude. You could have picked anyone to put in that contender’s match… Mastermind? I already beat him! He’s won NOTHING to earn another shot at it. And Harrison? Hell, my entire career has been built on beating him. If he wasn’t lucky enough to be a friend of mine, he’d have even more losses on his record than he already does! Neither of them deserved a title opportunity, but they got one because YOU bent over and took it from the Doc like everyone else around here does!”

“Hey now, remember who’s in charge here…”

“And YOU remember who PUT you there. Without me on your side you’d have been flushed down the toilet instead of Miranda Tigris. The other members of the Underground joined to be on MY team, not YOURS. You understand that, Kirk?”

“You really do think the whole world revolves around you, don’t you Lane? When I listened to you go off at the mouth all those times before about ‘main event’ this and ‘megastar’ that, I thought you were just living the persona…but you really believe it!”

Loverboy rushes around the desk and grabs MacClay by his lapels, shoving him back roughly against the wall hard enough to knock picture frames loose from their fasteners.

“You’re god damn right I believe it, Kirk. And you better believe me when I say this, too… I’m DONE with you. DONE with the Underground… hell, there IS no Underground without me anyway. I can team with Knight anytime I want to, and I will, because HE isn’t some backstabbing glad-hander like you. But as for fighting your battles for you? I’m out.”

“You’re making a mistake, Vinnie…”

Kirk sputters his words out from between shaking lips as Loverboy rams him into the wall a second time, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“I can make your life a living hell on Madness. As easily as I got you your opportunities, I can take them away.”

“YOU got me my opportunities? YOU? Was it you in the ring against Team Tigris? Was it you in there against Sane, Wallace and Oppenheimer? Are you the one who’s been defending against all comers every two weeks? Were you the star of the month after taking down the entire Madness roster in the Hart Title battle royal? Hell, it took a whole stable of rookies to prevent me from repeating in April, and they STILL kept my picture up on the website to keep the web traffic high. You? You’re a joke without me to legitimize you. You screwed yourself over letting Doc set me up out there tonight, dude. You bet on the wrong horse for Bad Medicine.”

MacClay starts to open his mouth for a retort again, but Loverboy backhands him across the lips and tosses him to the floor, grabbing his Hart Title belt and kneeling down over the fallen GM, shoving the gold into the quivering man’s face.

“THIS belongs to ME, and I got it the same way I’ll be getting the Uni at the pay per view. By being BETTER than anyone else. As for you? You’ll be lucky if they don’t permanently put Falcon’s name on the door to your office. Without me you’re just a joey in Heyman’s pouch. Now kiss your meal ticket goodbye.”

Loverboy grabs a handful of MacClay’s wiry hair, rubbing his face against the plate of the Hart Title. MacClay struggles weakly, but ultimately just relents and allows the gold belt to mush his face into contorted expressions until Loverboy shoves his head down onto the floor with a loud bonk.

“You’re gonna regret what happened tonight, dude.”

Loverboy stands up and storms out of the office with his title belt, slamming the door loudly behind him as he leaves.

Kirk MacClay slowly stands and dusts himself off, running the back of his hand across his busted lip and seeing a speck of blood on it.

“Not as much as you, Loverboy…”


[Image: RrKs7x0.gif]


What is this, 2014?

Dude, me beating up on LH Harrison is last year’s news. Frequent news, actually. Literally from day one of my career in the XWF, in fact.

Yet, thanks to some shady back room dealings between the Asylum and a guy I thought was watching my back, Kirk MacClay, here you are getting ready to be on the wrong side of a ring from me again.

That was stupid of you.

Dude, when are you going to learn? Your brightest moments have been when you stayed on my good side. Your first win. The Lethal Lottery triumph. And when you’ve been my opponent? Well, why not just ask Miranda Tigris how well that’s worked out for you. If you can find her, of course. Maybe try a corner downtown.

See Harrison, it’s not your fault or anything, man. You try. You do your best. Hell, you had the whole company fooled with that Hysteria routine, even tricking Guppy Parsh into forgetting how easily you could be beaten. You do everything you can to overcome your lack of natural ability and conditioning, your low testosterone and your below average strength and speed. But this isn’t a movie, dude, and in real life when you aren’t good enough you lose.

Now I know you’re going to sit back and try to convince yourself that you’re good enough to hang with me on the same night that I get crowned the new XWF Universal Champion. You’ll look past your lackluster performances and focus on the few moments when you looked like a champion. Slipping by Guppy, for one. Heck you could rightfully point out that you did what I failed to do when you beat him, but man, we all know that match was a hollow victory against a shell of a competitor whose heart just wasn’t in it. The guy’s best friend had just died, man. Way to show what an ‘inspiration’ you can be.

Face it, dude, you’ve got Little Hope of overcoming the challenge I pose to you at Bad Medicine. You’ve never been able to beat me. You’ve never been good enough to win a championship against a champion who gave a damn. Your fifteen minutes dried up even faster than your great, great grandpa, WH Harrison, when he had a cup of coffee in the oval office. Your career would be the laughing stock of Arkansas if Mike Huckabee didn’t exist.

I don’t even enjoy running you down like this, man. We’re FRIENDS. You think I like putting you on blast like this to remind everyone in the XWF what an ineffectual career you’ve had? You think I enjoy reminding you of your shortcomings? Dude, I hate the fact that you’ve put me in this position. I hate that you’ve forced me to beat you, again, in front of the biggest audience of my career on the biggest night of my career.

See dude… Bad Medicine is about me. It’s my night. It’s my time to shine. Nothing you or your adopted granddad Doc D’Ville can do is going to ruin it for me. Nothing in the world can stop me from taking the final step and getting to the top of this mountain.

I don’t know what kind of pain you must be in, man, after the things that happened to your family and the subsequent and repeated failures you’ve endured before, during and after. I don’t know what it’s like to be held down at a level, to hit a ceiling.

There’s no ceiling for me, see.

I’m a rocket ship burning a trail of exhaust across the sky, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to slow me down, dude.

Once we get in the ring together at Bad Medicine, you’ll remember every other time I’ve put you down like a dog with heartworms. You’ll have to overcome the ghosts of all your losses to me in the past.

All I’ve got to do is not lose to a guy who can’t beat me.

Sounds like a freebie to me.

If I were you I’d me a spokesman for all the other wannabes who simply can’t get it done. Every fat kid with asthma who thinks he can grow up to play football in the NFL. Every kid with a copy of Guitar Hero who thinks he can be a real rock star. Everyone who’s ever been in over their head.

If I were you, I’d show them that there’s no shame in quitting when you know you’re beat.

There’s no shame.

Think about it.
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