Lunatic vs. Chasm

[James Raven]

Lunatic
vs.
Chasm
- - Standard Match - -
- 1 RP Per Person, 2000 Word Count Limit Per RP-

ROLEPLAY DEADLINE: JUNE 9, 2017 (11:59:59 PM EST)
SHOW AIR DATE: JUNE 11, 2017

PLEASE POST ALL RP'S FOR THIS MATCH IN THIS THREAD

[lunatic]

The white room was practically wallpapered with colorful poster-sized diagrams of dissected body parts. It used to smell sterile and disinfected. Used to. It used to be neat, clean, organized, and presentable. Then someone in their infinite wisdom made the mistake of leaving a very bored man by the name of Marc MacGwire alone for precisely seven minutes and fifty-two seconds too long.



It wasn't a large room, more akin to a physician's patient room than a psychiatrist's office. Nevertheless, the room now more resembled a morgue that had been broken into and ransacked by vandals. Sitting upright on a rather expensive-looking leather loveseat was a model skeleton. It's legs were crossed at the kneecaps, it's arms folded in an impatient appearance. Inside the ribcage were two pickled lungs, apparently from someone who smoked three cigarette factories per day. At one time they had been inside a glass jar that had learned to fly abruptly after the contents had been relinquished. The jar didn't stick the landing very well. A trail of formaldehyde connecting the now former jar and the bony replica crossed the room.



Another smaller jar had been relieved of a pair of mismatched eyes and the orbs stuffed into the faux sockets, staring at the door with anxious intensity. It met a similarly failed flight to the opposite side of the room, the remaining eyeballs rolling around in a mixture of glass and preservative on the floor. One of the Doctor's expensive Macanudo cigars had been lit and stuffed into the mouth of the bony sculpture. A pillow that had been perfectly content minding its own business was ruthlessly gutted and the stuffing used to fashion a makeshift beard for both sculptor and artist.



The broad-shouldered man known as the Lunatic stood back, checking his work of art from every angle. He even stood on his head for a few seconds to make sure he was satisfied. He held his chin in his hand, nodding his head and stroking his improvised goatee in approval at his accomplishment.



"I have excellent news Mr. Mac..." The pungent aroma of soured formaldehyde hit the Doctor like an anvil on a certain cartoon coyote as he burst through the door. His words failed him even as he scanned his office, mouth agape. Important papers were folded into various airplanes, origami animals, and flowers. Another mountain of sheets that had been torn from Marc's own patient file were wadded into balls and shot with astonishing lack of accuracy at the waste basket.



Lunatic beamed proudly at the Good Doctor. Had his own face not been covered by the burlap mask, Phillip M. Schulman's visage of rage would have given away his reaction. Marc had always been a handful. After years of tireless therapy sessions with little to no results, with this patient in particular, his own mind had finally snapped. He suddenly found it much easier to hide his emotions under the mask, thus preventing giving Mr. MacGwire the reactions he so desired.



"Five minutes?" he grumbled, he though under his breath. "He did this in five minutes?"



"No, dumbass," snarked Lunatic. "It was seven minutes and fifty-two seconds. Duh. Didn't you read the first paragraph?"



The Doctor inhaled deeply to try and relax, but the odor of the preservative choked his lungs. After a coughing fit that lasted several seconds, he made his way to the windows to let in some fresh air.



"Oh, I wouldn't do that," informed Lunatic. The Doctor slowly twisted his head around, barely able to contain the irritation in his eyes. "You let in oxygen, then Skull-verine here might just go up in flames."



The lit cigar hovering just above a formaldehyde-soaked polyester-stuffing beard would have set a less knowledgeable person into a state of panic. Instead, the Doctor threw the windows open widely, allowing the gasses released from this cretin's temper tantrum to evaporate into the outside. He sat on the window ledge, gaining precious fresh air, as he took in the entire scene. As slapdash as everything appeared to have been done in such a short period, his appreciation of its complexities cleared along with the atmosphere.



In spite of its apparent randomness, it actually seemed much more carefully planned. The waste basket was close to the puddle of eyes and chemicals, the paper balls spaced closely enough to catch each other aflame if lit. The trail of delicately folded sculptures crossed his desk and down to the trail left by the lung jar.



The Doctor took in the entire scene while clearing his own lungs of the noxious air. Laughter erupted from within the mask, the physician standing full and slowly clapping as he approached the skeleton. Lunatic looked downtrodden as he realized that his fun was a wash. Dr. Schulman pulled the lit stogie from the mouth of the artwork with a bony chatter. He walked to his desk, testing the chair for glue or thumbtacks as past experience had taught him, before sitting and examining the ruined cigar with a slight hint of sorrow. "For future reference, formaldehyde isn't flammable. Noxious and somewhat toxic? Yes. Combustible? Not as much."



"It's a shame, really," the Doctor began. "You've wasted the perfect way to celebrate the good news I had for you."



"Smoking is bad, Mmmkay?" answered Lunatic in a voice much akin to "Mr. Garrison" from South Park. Finally, what the Doctor had said hit Marc. "Wait... What good news?"



The Doctor held in the news to gain a measure of petty revenge against his very impatient patient, slowly snuffing the cigar to keep from it being a complete loss. Lunatic started nearly vibrating with excitement and antici... pation. Once he felt he had tortured his charge long enough, he blurt it out.



"Do you remember your old rival James Raven?"



The child-like excitement gave way to a deep burning rage as Lunatic leaned over the desk, speaking through gnashed teeth. "I oughta set YOU on fire for even mentioning him. I have spent decades enduring the mountain of losses I had at his hands and the reputation that came with it."



"Would you care to talk about your feelings, or should I continue?" A sneer of delight was hidden beneath the burlap. He watched Marc's face twitch in outrage, but silence was the answer. He cherished the sudden hold he had over his most uncontrollable patient. "It seems that he is putting together a rather large show containing talents he's surrounded himself with over the years as a wrestler. He called me in an attempt to reach out to you. Due to HIPAA laws, I couldn't give him your contact information, of course, but I assured him that I was still treating you and that I would certainly pass along his phone number." He paused to tease a bit more. "That's if you're interested, of course."



Lunatic ground his teeth, his eyes wide with fury. "Oh sure. He probably needs SOMEONE to jerk the curtain. Or maybe he'll put me on mop duty. It figures that fevered ego would want to stroke himself in front of god and K-Mart by making a mega-show all about himself. He's probably headlining the thing just because he's like that."



The Doctor held up a hand to halt his tirade. "There will be a lot of other names there you recognize, I'm sure. You aren't the opening match, and Mr. Raven isn't headlining the event."



Lunatic leaned in closer. "So which match am I in then, wiseass?"



"The third one."



Closer. "And he stuck himself at the top of the card, didn't he?"



"Indeed."



Nose to burlap nose. "You're right. He doesn't hate me or have an overinflated sense of self-importance at all." Lunatic kissed the nose-spot, his face returning to a semblance of normality as he straightened up. "Who else will be there?"



The Doctor glanced at a handwritten list in sloppy physician sanscrit. "Rage."



"Gay," Lunatic remarked nonchalantly, examining his fingernails.



"Aidan Collins"



"Double Gay." Lunatic Paused. "Let me guess. His 'camping' buddy Drake Komodo will be there, right?" The Doctor nodded. "I bet they can't wait to go fishing with each other's worms again. Bastards. Who else?"



"Dan Fierce, Roxy Nova, and Alyssa Ferro."



"Straight. Keep going."



"Your old cohorts from the (un)Stable will be there; Legion and Tomoko Hanahara."



"Who's bringing the sack of potatoes and the liverwurst sammiches?" The Doctor looked at Lunatic as if the remark lost him. Marc just shook his head. "Never mind. Are there more I would know?"



"Let's see." The psychologist carefully monitored the card. "Centurion, Chris Page... Well, if I were to boil it down, I'd say most of the card save for a few from HWO,TWC, and from the 'new XWF.'"



"Whatever." Lunatic had a rare moment of silent contemplation. "And who is the poor schlub across the ring from me?"



"That, my good friend, would be the icing on the cake." The Doctor sat back in his leather desk chair, his grin nearly visible through the fabric. "You get to go against someone you have quite a history with; Chasm."



Marc looked at the Doctor in shock. "That guy's still alive? I thought surely by now he'd have swallowed a drug store to drown the fact that he sucks more than a two dollar whore during a blue light special." Lunatic grinned from ear to ear, but it was an unsettling, unhinged smile. "Well, at least he paired me with someone I've hardly ever lost to."



"Ah, but you HAVE lost to him before."



"The sun was in my eyes."



"It was a match at night."



"That tears it!" Lunatic exclaimed. "Tomorrow morning, I'm using your cereal as my own personal cat box."



"I don't eat cereal," informed the Doctor.



"You're just full of sunshine today, aren't ya?" Looney giggled to himself. "So what's Captain Cueball up to lately?"



"Chasm?" questioned the Good Doctor. "To be honest, I couldn't tell you. I don't believe anyone can. He just faded into obscurity and stayed there. Perhaps he has a family now and wishes to not injure himself into invalidity."



"Too late for that crap. He was an invalid between the ropes. Do the Canadians give out welfare for being monumental failures?"



"Why are you so venomous towards a man you've not had contact with for several years?"



Lunatic pondered the answer. "I guess it's because any time one of these big throw-downs gets put together, he and I are almost always coupled like Collins and Komodo."



"I believe it's because the two of you bring out the best in each other," surmised Schulman. "The end result has always been something to please the fans and warm them up. In essence, you have the most important job."



"Third match, huh?" Lunatic's mind whirled with possibilities. "It is a sweet spot, I guess, as long as he doesn't half-ass it. I don't have a problem slapping a bitch if he doesn't put in the effort. He has a history for that, too, you know; beating himself before anyone else has the chance to."



"Sounds familiar."



"Shaddap."



Behind the Doctor, an egg timer chimed, signifying that their session was at its end. Sparks shot out from the timer, igniting the small pool of fluid it had been set in. Without turning around, the Doctor stood, straightening himself out.



"I believe that's our time, Mr. MacGwire. Please be sure to set your next appointment with the receptionist on your way out."



The Doctor clapped Marc on the back as his patient watched the growing blaze behind them with significant interest. The Doctor simply ignored it as he lead his charge to the door. They both left the empty, burning shell of an abandoned hospital, strolling past the chain link fence with the "No Trespassing" signs posted and away from the conflagration.



Finally the silence was broken when Lunatic turned to the Doctor. "Can I set the timer thing next time?"