TCK Promo - Immortalis - 'Copycat'

Match Two

Singles Match

The Copycat Kid vs. Murray Muir

Dramatis personæ

The Copycat Kid – Imitative, educated professional-wrestler, and decision-maker within Infinity City, has definitive links to being the Chief Operating Officer of Infinity Wrestling.

Murray Muir – Delinquent, Idiotic rich-kid, reluctant professional wrestler, and trouble-maker within Infinity Wrestling, has vague links to the Infinity City Mob.

Damien Muir– Uncle of Murray Muir, and a high-ranking member of the Infinity City Mob. The Copycat is undefeated against him in matches.

The Jameson Kid – A parody of Mr. Entertainment James Jameson, a favorite persona of the Copycat, with the ability to underplay and marginalize his opponents.

Fake Cashius & Fake Daxton - Two fake “Strongarms” employed by TCK to protect the COO and oversee his activities during Immortalis week. Fake Daxton is a hulking white man, whereas Fake Cashius is a short skinny black man.

Horatio Williams – Psychiatrist of the Trinity Ward, a medical triage specializing in help for those who need a listening ear, also the brother to Logan Williams.

Oria Valquist – A fifty five year old black man who is in charge of running the legal firm Derrida & Valquist in the heart of the Infinity City. He has a deep disdain of non-technical wrestling.

Mr. Osman – The head of the Battle Zone Network, a former boxer, and a man who has a deep hatred of Murray Muir.

  

 _________________ 

Copycat (noun)

Definition 1

a) One that closely mimics or imitates another.

b) A person or thing that imitates another persistently or exactly.

 _________________ 

ACT I – The Electric Connection

Another evening, another triage of people heading out to forget their actual existence, this could be none truer for nobody but The Copycat Kid. Occupying the exclusive VIP booth at the nightclub Electric he slumped back into the plush leather seat and slowly sipped on a martini. Two men occupied the ropes to his booth, fake versions of Cashius and Daxton…the Boss’s henchmen around the City. TCK knew everything that occurred in his City. The mob’s activity was chump meat to him; if he wanted to he had the choice of infiltrating the entire organisation using the tools of his trade if he wanted to. Alone in his booth he sat and observed through a set of purple contact lenses, the only physical sign that he was imitating Murray Muir. Fake Cashius and Fake Daxton was approached by a man in a thick trench coat, it had been raining outside and he dripped a trail of his entry. Removing his hood TCK was not surprised to see him, he said nothing, and did not change his relaxed posture.

“I believe you’re in the wrong booth,” the man revealed his face; it was a man TCK knew all too well, Damien Muir. “I am in no mood to play your games Copycat.”

TCK didn’t say anything in response to Murray, but the Boss tried to push past TCK’s fake versions of his own henchmen, a detail that he picked up on immediately.

“Put your knockoffs at ease, you of all people know I mean you no harm.” Damien suggested.

The two fake henchman turned to their ring leader who after quickly making up his mind nodded, they moved to the side begrudgingly, Damien grunted at the small Daxton lookalike, it was clear that few people in the City could match the prowess of the mobs finest. Damien sat to TCK’s left, he took off the trench coat and sat in a blue shirt and tie, creased, but nothing less than pristine.

“Where did you even find those two?” Damien commented on the two bouncers for TCK. “Normally your plans require full commitment to the part."

“There were some…budget cuts. They’ll have to do for now.” TCK replied modestly, not yet looking Damien in the eye.

Damien didn’t drink anything, and was weary of the ever-so calm and relaxed Copycat Kid. He placed his hands in his palms in his hands and tried to be civil with the COO of Infinity Wrestling.

“I was brought here with the intention of my nephew being here, turns up I was at least half right. Those eyes, you have…no, you wouldn’t commit to only half a part. I have never seen you like this before.” Damien commented on TCK’s eye contact lenses, both of them purple, both of them imitating Murray Muir.

“Some days the outfit isn’t needed, Murray is unique because he has an amazing perspective on life. Some days…you only need the perspective, your nephew fascinates me, and you would be smart enough to see that this is no grudge match but something much more.” TCK replied with his eyes jaded purple; he took another sip of the martini in front of him and continued relaxing.

TCK and Damien didn’t meet eye to eye; they shied away from looking each other directly at one another. Damien had seen enough of the Copycat trying to get inside Murray’s head.

“I will not sit here and watch you butcher my family name like a snake in the grass,” Damien stood up ready to leave, picking up his long jacket in the process, ready to leave. “Murray is stronger than you think. There is no possible way that you can do what you did to Adrian by coaxing out all of his secrets and absorbing whatever essence you are looking for. There is no weak wife this time to spill out her confessions like a wretch crying out for her life.”

Damien walked away, pasted the fake Cashius and Daxton lookalikes. He put on the jacket and was walking away, only the voice of TCK stopped him momentarily for one second. A final ode to a chance encounter.

“Damien, we fought many battles in our beleaguered past. My instincts tell me to think at least three moves ahead of the name Muir. I didn’t need a stroppy, brooding wife to tell me what I needed to know. I already have my perspective. Does the Trinity Ward mean anything to you? Yesterday I visited someone of interest there. Damien, I brought you here for two reasons, number one is to warn you before your nephew does something reckless, this is my penance for using your own time and money against you. Secondly, I wanted to thank you for giving me the in-road to domain of Murray Muir, your more useful than I ever expected you to be in this City.”

Damien Muir realized exactly what TCK was on about, he said nothing else and rushed out of Club Electric to make his way to Infinity Ward, and to stop Murray from doing god knows what. All the way Damien wrestled with the fact that the Murray family had once again been too late to keep the Copycat out of their fortress.

_________________ 

Copycat (adj)

Definition 2

Closely imitating or following another: ‘a copycat version of a successful product, a copycat crime.’

 _________________ 

ACT II – Derrida & Valquist

Mr. Osman was the CEO of the Battle Zone Network, a former championship boxer, and a visionary of a network to spread the love of skilled fighting to a whole new front, the new world. That, of course, still needed legal eggheads to rough it over with contracts and endless streams of documentation. Osman was a serene character; after his days of boxing were over he turned his passion to becoming a promoter, manager, and then eventually owner of an agency, and the eventual step to becoming the head of his company. Where he was right now was Derrida & Valquist, a legal firm in the heart of Infinity City metropolis, also the location of the place all legal documentation for Infinity Wrestling and the Battle Zone Network was handled, processed, and stored. The man Mr. Osman was going to see was a former sparring partner and longtime friend, Oria Valquist, the acting head of the company. Currently the leading shareholders were Infinity’s own Isis Derrida and Valquist, whilst they left to seek other wrestling endeavors Oria was left in charge of the nearly destroyed company, sparked back to life following the City’s revival period with the IWF. Osman entered the top floor of the eight five story tall building where he was meeting with Oria, at this height the sun shone in like a torrent of fire, its intensity unmatched, a stunning view. Inside Osman walked as he save the blurred visage of Oria caught in the beam of the sun, he clapped his hands and the glass reacted to the sound and dimmed the effect of the sun in the room. Two old friends turned to one another and embraced in a brotherly hug.

“Looking well my friend,” Osman greeted in a gruff tone. “Where is your son?”

“Gallivanting about in other federations across the globe with Isis, they enjoy it, they are happy. Come; let us not drag this out.” Oria replied humbly.

Oria led Mr. Osman over to a central glass table in the middle of the room; there were two copies of legal contracts over the table. Both disclosed, both had no names imprinted on them. He picked up one of them and passed it Osman who seemed satisfied with its contents. What he was reading was the  contract termination documentation for Murray Muir, waiting and ready to be signed when he loses to TCK and forced to accept that there is no place for him in Infinity. Yes, Murray hadn’t been fired, but Osman had his insurance policies in place.

“I don’t even know why you need these daft things,” Oria commented as Osman skimmed the pages to check everything was in order. “You’re not going to have an easy ride come Immortalis; Murray will not be easily displaced.”

“Tell that to the Copycat. He’ll be the one handing this to him.” Mr. Osman replied harshly, playing the manipulative hand over Infinity Wrestling.

“Who is that guy anyway, I mean for real. You can’t seriously have no name and identity in this world, especially with the internet and access to unlimited knowledge. Who is he really Oz?” Oria asked about the origins of TCK.

Osman closed the file on Muir and placed it under one arm, he thought about what he asked long and hard and drew a long, blank face. Osman had absolutely no idea.

“It’s not quite that simple with him, I tried finding out for myself once who he was but I only hit brick walls. Plus, the only two men who know the truth about him; the first of them is dead; the second is on the run for said first man’s condition.” He teased of his difficulty in finding the answers about the Copycat.

Mr. Osman was about to leave before he noticed the other file on the glass table sitting ominously doing nothing, taunting him that he didn’t know the contents within. Oria Valquist picked it up and held it in his hands so Osman couldn’t swipe it away.

“Listen, Oz. As much as I loathe Murray’s thrash style in the ring, I also think you have made a colossal mistake in antagonizing both of these individuals into a war, what you are trying to achieve seems almost farfetched and impossible to achieve. Haven’t you even considered what you may have done to protect the BZN by pitting the nameless TCK against Murray Muir?” Oria voiced his concern, he could be honest in front of him, he would have been a bad friend if he kept his mouth closed and withheld his two cents. Osman appreciated the gesture.

“Trust me, Murray will be leaving the Infinity City with his tail caught between his legs after Immortalis. He will beg me for this document, and being a man of mercy I will give it to him. Nothing would bring me greater joy that to see that arrogant stain on the wall disappear at long last.” Osman said, his mind concluded.

“Oh Oz, my oldest friend.  Vengeance has clouded your vision; I thought you were past this. I am not referring to Murray; I am referring to the nameless one. Think it through properly, you have fought fire with fire and it could work, but in this case TCK will assume Murray’s role…at first you only had one problem on your plate and the next second you’ll have two of them. Do you really think that you are in control of the Copycat? He is a law unto himself, a mirror image to nothing.” Oria said alarmingly to his colossal friend, asking him to think through the consequences of creating two versions of Murray Muir.

Placing out his arm he held out the document to Osman to take and look at, without responding he opened its pages and was shocked to find what was written on the pages. This was the script for a public apology to be made by Mr. Osman personally following Immortalis, apologizing for the breach of terms between Infinity and the BZN…faulting Osman for everything.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Osman blurted out, enraged.

“Calm down, this is a gift to you. Having been so focused on Murray I don’t blame you for overlooking the bigger problem you face. TCK is now weaponised to act like him, speak like him, wreak havoc like him. Osman, the Copycat has played you from the beginning of this little saga with Murray. At first sight you may think this is just another fight to TCK, but by transforming into Murray Muir he is symbolizing and protecting the very thing Muir is fighting for: his infinity.”

“No!” Osman started seeing loose ends tie together; knots began to tighten in his stomach as he realized that TCK had used him. “That son of a bitch is setting an example, he wants to show the world that he supports Murray, he wants to push him even further and build him up. I could kill him.” Osman gritted his teeth and stared down at the document reading the failsafe for removing TCK from administrative power from the federation.

“Face it, Oz. You supported TCK’s decision to fight Muir, everyone will see that you enabled the match to happen; you’ll become the catalyst for this disaster. TCK has manipulated you into believing that you were restricting the product, when in truth he used that very motivation you pushed for and advertised all over your network to show that Murray is not alone in Infinity. Osman; you sanctioned the Copycat’s crime, you’ve made Murray the martyr of this story, you gave the people a reason to cheer for him, you have given him a place in Infinity. The Copycat Kid was only doing his job; he was immortalizing Murray Muir, with your help.”

  

 _________________ 

Reflection (adj)

Definition 3

a) Done or made to be very similar to something else.

b) A crime that is believed to have been influenced by another, often famous, crimes because it is so similar.

  

_________________ 

ACT III – Words of an Entertainer

James Jameson appeared in a mirror, or so at first glimpse it was him. The Jameson Kid was a tool, used by TCK to translate people into their real life positional stereotype, a way to translate ones meaning into common sense. TCK thought Jameson had an astute ability of taking things of complex nature and repacking them into simple packages. He saw the world and deconstructed it into things people found as useful, or translatable. The Jameson Kid was part of TCK that saw things from a different perspective, an effort to make sense of a character.

“What do I have to say about Murray Muir…the thug waning in the winds that is a walking bar brawl in a city, drink in one hand, pride on the other…looking around with his eyes glancing for the weak prey to impose his dominance on. Angry…made to be war…he is the Terminator with no purpose…the Alien meant to kill because of instinct…he is the car with its foot down on the pedal, never stopping, speeding up to take down all in his way. He says he has no care in the world…but would sit down for a family meal like the ending of Soprano’s, he wants to be the no-care-in-the-world guy like any jock in every American film about sports, racing, friendship, just about everything…actually. Murray sees himself as the train in Unstoppable…but even that was stopped, barely…we are meant not to care about him, like both the brothers in Supernatural…but we end up falling for their charm and style and their devil-may-cry attitude…he tries to be every bullet, every storm, everything wrong we have ever envisioned with mind or pain…Murray Muir, ladies and gentlemen is the man we cannot hate even if we tried to. Everything I have said proves it, we are incapable of forgotten those with the decency to be honest and say they are going to hurt people, all of us will find a place in our hearts for him. Murray may never appreciate that, but it is there. ”

XoXo

Mr. Entertainment,
The Jameson Kid.

_________________ 

Reflection (noun)

Definition 4

Denoting an action, typically a crime, carried out in imitation of another.

_________________  

ACT IV – The Penny Drops

“You can enter, Murray.”

Horatio Williams sat back in his chair; he stroked his short brown bead and waited patiently for his next guess to enter.

“Welcome Murray, it is good to see you again.” Horatio greeted Murray into his office; in turn Murray slammed the door behind him as loud as he could.

Murray said absolutely nothing on his way to sit down on the elongated leather sofa; he spread out his body in a vulgar position, slumped back without care. Horatio remained in a calm state of mind, crossed legged in the chair waiting for Murray to get comfortable.

“What’s new with you doc?” Murray asked the doctor, clearly without concern for Horatio.

“You do this every time; this session is about you, speaking things out, making things more transparent for you.” Horatio tranquilly responded.

“Typical bullshit shrink answer, what next…are you going to ask me how I’m feeling or some shit like that?” Murray asked, clearly one step ahead of the game.

The shrink Horatio was as stereotypical as you could imagine, very prideful of himself and everything he had to say and all that he had accomplished in the field of mental psychology, he had the look of a listening doctor and the demeanour to match to.  Murray stood up, frustrated; he was preparing to leave after only being there for about less than a minute.

“I don’t know why the fuck I bother with you. My uncle is so persistent in booking these stupid bullshit lessons to give me some peace of mind. Thanks anyway doc, I’ll see you after Immortalis for my final session.” Murray said, mostly in a sarcastic tone.

Murray was about to leave but Horatio stopped him from leaving with a subtle cough, the loudmouth brawler turned briskly around as if he was offended.

“You got something to say doc?” He reacted to Horatio’s final statement with contempt.

“Excuse me Mr Muir, but we have no more scheduled sessions.” Horatio replied.

“Don’t fuck with me Williams; I am coming here after the shitting match and having this shitting session. Do you hear me?” Murray replied angrily, certain that there was no error.

“I hear you perfectly fine. But…you’ll have to arrange payment with my secretary at the front desk if you want to see me again.” Horatio replied stubbornly, and coldly.

Murray closed the door, this time he did it slowly and with caution. He took Horatio seriously for the first time since these sessions he called a waste of his time and Damien’s money. He got close to Horatio, circling his chair slowly like a shark stalking its bleeding prey. Murray knew he must have been somewhat intimidated, he gulped anxiously as Murray walked around him and his posture was more refined and tight than before.

“So tell me Horatio, you FUCK, tell me why that is;” Murray stopped behind his chair and held his shoulders firmly that made him shudder. “Because I think you can count pretty fine you, nice pay-check, nice shirt, and I see you got a pretty nice wife…probably because you counted the money before she got her boob-job, fake hair, and fake life. Fuck, if you couldn’t notice something fake right in front of your own two eyes then you’re not worth the money my family is wasting on you. So tell me doc, why this is my last lesson.”

Horatio cleared his throat and spoke clearly for him to hear, “all ten lessons were used up in your block.”

“I know that you fucking pleb,” Murray sighed in disbelief. “Perhaps I have to be clearer, tell me Horatio…the man taking hard earned money from the Muir pocket…when did lesson nine take place?”

“Yesterday,” he said nervously, clearing his throat again and screaming in agony when Murray dug his broad hands into the psychiatrist’s feeble shoulders. “You had it yesterday for god sake!”

Murray pushed over the chair in rage; Horatio hit his head on the floor and dragged him back up to his feet, he looked dazed and confused after taking a sharp blow to the head that cut open his head. He held up Horatio against his wall, knocking over and smashing the frame of his prized painting.

“What did you tell him?!” Murray shook Horatio violently; he was losing the control of his body. Murray hit him in the face as hard as he could with a closed fist, blood spat from his mouth and onto the floor. Murray shook him even more to answer.

“Everything,” he coughed repeatedly, and painfully as Murray tightened the grip he had on his neck. “Everything he wanted to know, I thought you were making progress you, you…dick! You…he…sat quietly, he listened, I thought you were making progress. That is why I told him anything, I finally thought you were ready to change and grow the hell up.”

“Anything else I should know?” He replied with what was basically a growl.

“The man, he kept asking for a diagnosis, of what I thought, what I knew was you. I’m basically screwed as it is, so I shouldn’t care that some brute has me pinned against the wall of my own office. I told him you had Misophonia…this means you more than often get made angry by small things, from conversations, people eating too loudly, to them breathing.” Horatio found his honest spot, unlucky for him it was whilst Murray was threatening him.

“You’re an absolute tool. That was not me yesterday you utter prick! The purple were jaded with deceit, you gave that clichéd piece of walking shit my entire life story, I think that qualifies me for a refund, don’t you?!” He replied with growing intensity, raising the curled up fist of his right hand and was ready to level Horatio where he stood.

All weight into his arm he was so close to achieving some redemption, but his arm never did hit the face of the idiotic doctor. His hand had been grabbed by Damien Muir, Murray’s uncle; he threw him away from Williams. Jumping to his feet Murray was then quickly escorted from the showboating office after Damien grabbed his arm and gave him no choice.

Damien knows he is too late, he thought Murray was going to kill him. “This is what he wants, to expose you.”

“My level of give a fuck is quite low right now uncle!” Murray retaliated to his mentors words, resisting the pressure the Boss placed on his arm.

Damien had dragged Murray out of Horatio’s office, thrashing about and red in the face with nothing but pure hatred of TCK. He had Murray’s secrets, his story, and his life. All of it had been given to him unknowingly. Every dark secret, every confession of guilt, his past, his present, and what he wants in the future.

“War against TCK is no war at all, there is no battlefield Murray…he thrives off destruction and the vacuum it creates. All he does is absorb and cause ruin.”

“How the fuck would you know?!” He thrashed about, wanting to finish Horatio off where he lied weakened on the floor, ripe for the final blow.

“I’ve been exactly where you have been before, Murray. This is nothing new to me. The story of the Copycat will always be the same.” Damien said commandingly.

Quickly he controlled and stabilised Murray, pushing him into the wall outside the office, Horatio’s receptionist quickly fled after she heard the shouting and they were alone in the lobby. Murray was smacking things with his hands, his frustration was bearing down on him, and he felt exposed and vulnerable because one man had seen the true face of Murray Muir.

“If you have been there before, how on earth do I defeat that manipulative FUCK?!” Murray bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“I never said I had beaten him, few have, and those left are nowhere to be seen. Even Adrian Flynn could not defeat him for Christ sakes. As I said, his story never changes. TCK is a parasite, he leeches on and becomes you in ways terrifying and alien to our human condition, and do you want to know the reason why he is so good at what he does…it is not the reflections he casts, or the mirrors he sets up to imitate. TCK is a man broken at his core; his success surfaces because he just doesn’t care…you will never know the reason why he really wants to fight you. All of it on the face of things is an act to keep you away from the secret Murray; he would never let you know why he really picked you out of a roster of wrestlers to fight at Immortalis. That is why Adrian couldn’t beat him, and that is why you won’t beat him unless you start to think like the man behind the gimmick. Nobody knows his reason to fight, but he knows yours, and he will bend and twist that against you…this is the man who nearly turned a hero into a villain I am talking about, he is warped. Don’t you fucking tell anyone else what I am about to say…keep this to yourself, and your revolt. In my eyes the Copycat is a genius, he has turned himself into an impenetrable fortress nothing can breach. He has weaponised into a man that is effective against any branch of empathy, the only echo of a long lost man that once existed in the void that now consumes him. Right now Murray, I look at what you just did to that innocent man, and I am left to wonder if you are the impenetrable fortress you need to be that will keep him out of your head.” Damien said to Murray before he stared down his nephew, disappointed by his actions. This was all Murray’s doing, his rage, his responsibility.

The penny had dropped. Murray realised that it was the immaterial nature of his opponent at Immortalis that was the COO’s greatest strength. In the Infinity City The Copycat Kid had access to everything, and anyone he wanted, it was upon the moment of realising that TCK was the Infinity City, the fortress he had built, that Murray no longer saw him as Copycat, but the Creator. Murray’s rebellion may have been all for nothing, raging war against a man who controlled the very outcome of Murray’s future, a man who controlled Murray’s destiny.

Ended.