Post by Eira on May 2, 2016 22:15:08 GMT -5
((This is the Last Chance Battle Royal secret RP entry for Murdoc))
‘A letter came for you today.’
Most stories start with a similar hook. A catalyst, something that spurs the protagonist into a course of action whether willing or unwilling ... amazing how real life can imitate art. These little hooks that no one notices amidst the maelstrom of everyday life. We are privy to these catalysts as we step back and analyze from afar, but to notice these things from a first-person perspective takes a rather large amount of self-awareness. And self-awareness is something that MURDOC has been known to possess.
The story depends on something to send the hero through trials and tribulation, obstacles and failures before reaching the inevitable conclusion. A letter. A fortuitous phone call. A visit from an old friend. There will be none of that today ... there aren’t many friends left now that he’s not world-famous or notorious for one thing or another. Most people have moved on to the next big thing. The next quote. The next Flavor of the Month.
And he’s fine with that.
It’s been a quiet year. Nice ... and quiet. The past few months have been even BETTER; Eira being away from the chaos of Pure Class Wrestling has meant nothing but quality time. Nights on the couch enjoying both good AND horrible movies through Netflix. Day trips to the beach. The little things that working men and women sometimes miss in the hustle and bustle of daily life. Things that Murdoc can fully appreciate finally, the fruits of his life-long labor having finally come to bear. He’ll never want for another thing in his lifetime ... except ...
“It’s from Greenville.”
CLANG.
The metal weights drop, followed by deafening silence. He looks across the room now, as if only seeing his soulmate for the first time this morning. Staring intently at the letter held carelessly in her hand, studying it for the longest time before ...
'Burn it.’ His words are weighty and matter-of-fact. There’s nothing from that god-forsaken black hole that he could ever want or need. As he goes to grab the towel from the bench beside him, the only thoughts running through his mind are ones of confusion and regret. Both stemming from the belief that he had changed mailing addresses. As he begins toweling the sweat from his brow, his chest, he begins to make a beeline towards the shower ... leaving Eira to nod and make her way back upstairs.
Casually opening the letter as she goes ...
***
“Everyone ... has a chance.”
My Child, come and sit a spell under the Learning Tree.
For He has risen again from the Depths, to walk that hallowed path once again.
“That’s what they tell us. Every day. Ever since you were a child, your Mother and Father tell you you have a chance! A chance to be someone, a chance to do something great ... a chance to really make a difference.” He nods to himself. Even out of view, you can almost picture him doing so. Such are his words, such is his tone, that you know this to be true. Close your eyes for a moment. Let the words roll around in the mind. And you can see him speaking to you from Beyond. Nay, you can FEEL him speaking to your Soul.
“And you do. They are not Liars. Not intentionally, anyways. For there is ALWAYS a chance. What they neglect to mention is that you have the same chance as everyone else. And therein lay the problem, the Deception. For you see, you DON’T have the same chance as everyone else. The strongest. The fastest. The smartest. THEY have more of a chance than you do. And there is ALWAYS someone stronger, faster, smarter than you. Such a cruel trick.”
“You can have THIS! This can be yours, but this can also be hers or his and they might be better than you, but you can still go for it. Good luck! Then comes the fighting. The violence. That cutthroat existence we’ve all been a part of since the beginning of days. It doesn’t matter what the goal, rest assured: someone else wants it too. And it doesn’t change as you grow older. You are now an adult with even MORE adversaries. Even your own Mother and Father are fighting for the same chances that you have.”
Dropping flithy wisdom on your head. It hits you like a train and all at once. It’s not a comfortable feeling. It’s probably soul-crushing and depressing, tickling those emotions deep within. Stirring the anger and frustration, knowing that every single word dripping from his lips is one hundred percent true. You hate the words he’s speaking, appalled that you find yourself agreeing with him.
“My friends, at the end of days ... we get to our last chance. There’s always a Last Chance. That last push before you cannot push anymore. That last gasp of air, that last hope. By that point, unfortunately ... you’re weak. The engine powering the ambulatory meat suit you call a body has run itself ragged, trying for all these chances you’ve been so graciously ‘given’. Some you’ve made good on. Most you haven’t. And here before you sits one last chance ... do you take it, knowing you’ve been burned in the past?”
“Are you strong enough still?”
“This is where I find myself. I’ve reached the End of Days and here I sit, with you. We are at my End of Days. You are witness to MY Last Chance. The Last Chance battle royal. I have one last chance before me and I’m not a stupid man. This Last Chance battle royal? It’s simply a chance at a chance. I have the CHANCE ... to attempt the one thing I’ve chased for my entire adult life. I’ve gone nowhere else, I’ve done nothing else in my professional life. THIS IS IT. And I have a chance at the chance to make good on my life. To make my time on this disgusting plane of existence mean something!”
“And there is no one before me stronger. No one before me smarter. No one before me more WILLING to take everyone else’s chance away. There will be those who want to keep me from it. Some I will know, for they have declared their intentions. Some I will NOT know ... those much like myself who have been spurred on by the idea that there is a chance for them. This is it. One Last Chance for me to redeem a lifetime of failure towards the one goal I’ve made for myself.”
“When that Last Chance arrives ... and you all arrive with childlike hearts, wide-eyed and hopeful ... remember your Mother and Father, telling you that the chance is yours to take. And I will be there to remind you that you’re not a child anymore, that you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar ... “
“ ... and that DADDY’S HOME.”
***
“I think you should do it.”
Her words are candid and open, after having debated internally for the longest time. ‘In a few months, I know you and you’ll want to be home. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. You’ll want to be the man that your father was those years ago and you’ll want to be even BETTER. I know how that mind works ... and you’ll be done with it all. FINALLY. And there will be NO convincing you otherwise.”
“They don’t need me. I don’t need them. They’ve used my body and face, my blood and my tears, to build a name for themselves and I used them to build a foundation AWAY from them. Why on EARTH should I go back?” She ponders this for only a few seconds. “Because you’re not finished.”, she replies. “You’re not finished and you loathe the idea of leaving something unfinished. ESPECIALLY this. You’ve worked your entire life to be able to say that you were the BEST at what you do. That you were the best that the WORLD has to offer in your line of work. And to leave now? You’d never have that chance again. You’re running out of time and you know it. What’s coming is going to consume your LIFE. And you’ll always, at the End of Days ... wonder why you didn’t try just one more time.”
“And that thought will EAT YOU ALIVE.”
He regards her carefully, over the bowl of Fruit Loops before him. Milk dribbling down his beard in spots. Quite a sight to see. A tired, worn face over a colorful bowl of cereal. For underneath it all, he sits before her as a grown-up child. On the verge of taking on the ultimate journey, one that will change everything he knows. He will eschew simple pleasures for security. Turn away from late night drinks for getting a child onto the school bus. Nothing has ever frightened him as much and THAT is why he will never have this chance again: because he will never risk such a thing. She knows it and he knows it.
“Do it. Be the BEST IN THE WORLD when our child is born. That is the only rightful place for you and you KNOW it. You’ve already made your decision ... you just need me to tell you that it’s okay to chase this one last chance, don't you?”
He looks to her, across the table ... her lithe hand within his own burly paw. Enveloping her, drawing on her assurances as he lets out a sigh. All the wordless protests ... his mind still fighting the idea in vain. But even as the mind-goblins in his head begin to scratch just a little bit louder with hissing and shouts, she is there to drown them out.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
***
‘A letter came for you today.’
Most stories start with a similar hook. A catalyst, something that spurs the protagonist into a course of action whether willing or unwilling ... amazing how real life can imitate art. These little hooks that no one notices amidst the maelstrom of everyday life. We are privy to these catalysts as we step back and analyze from afar, but to notice these things from a first-person perspective takes a rather large amount of self-awareness. And self-awareness is something that MURDOC has been known to possess.
The story depends on something to send the hero through trials and tribulation, obstacles and failures before reaching the inevitable conclusion. A letter. A fortuitous phone call. A visit from an old friend. There will be none of that today ... there aren’t many friends left now that he’s not world-famous or notorious for one thing or another. Most people have moved on to the next big thing. The next quote. The next Flavor of the Month.
And he’s fine with that.
It’s been a quiet year. Nice ... and quiet. The past few months have been even BETTER; Eira being away from the chaos of Pure Class Wrestling has meant nothing but quality time. Nights on the couch enjoying both good AND horrible movies through Netflix. Day trips to the beach. The little things that working men and women sometimes miss in the hustle and bustle of daily life. Things that Murdoc can fully appreciate finally, the fruits of his life-long labor having finally come to bear. He’ll never want for another thing in his lifetime ... except ...
“It’s from Greenville.”
CLANG.
The metal weights drop, followed by deafening silence. He looks across the room now, as if only seeing his soulmate for the first time this morning. Staring intently at the letter held carelessly in her hand, studying it for the longest time before ...
'Burn it.’ His words are weighty and matter-of-fact. There’s nothing from that god-forsaken black hole that he could ever want or need. As he goes to grab the towel from the bench beside him, the only thoughts running through his mind are ones of confusion and regret. Both stemming from the belief that he had changed mailing addresses. As he begins toweling the sweat from his brow, his chest, he begins to make a beeline towards the shower ... leaving Eira to nod and make her way back upstairs.
Casually opening the letter as she goes ...
***
“Everyone ... has a chance.”
My Child, come and sit a spell under the Learning Tree.
For He has risen again from the Depths, to walk that hallowed path once again.
“That’s what they tell us. Every day. Ever since you were a child, your Mother and Father tell you you have a chance! A chance to be someone, a chance to do something great ... a chance to really make a difference.” He nods to himself. Even out of view, you can almost picture him doing so. Such are his words, such is his tone, that you know this to be true. Close your eyes for a moment. Let the words roll around in the mind. And you can see him speaking to you from Beyond. Nay, you can FEEL him speaking to your Soul.
“And you do. They are not Liars. Not intentionally, anyways. For there is ALWAYS a chance. What they neglect to mention is that you have the same chance as everyone else. And therein lay the problem, the Deception. For you see, you DON’T have the same chance as everyone else. The strongest. The fastest. The smartest. THEY have more of a chance than you do. And there is ALWAYS someone stronger, faster, smarter than you. Such a cruel trick.”
“You can have THIS! This can be yours, but this can also be hers or his and they might be better than you, but you can still go for it. Good luck! Then comes the fighting. The violence. That cutthroat existence we’ve all been a part of since the beginning of days. It doesn’t matter what the goal, rest assured: someone else wants it too. And it doesn’t change as you grow older. You are now an adult with even MORE adversaries. Even your own Mother and Father are fighting for the same chances that you have.”
Dropping flithy wisdom on your head. It hits you like a train and all at once. It’s not a comfortable feeling. It’s probably soul-crushing and depressing, tickling those emotions deep within. Stirring the anger and frustration, knowing that every single word dripping from his lips is one hundred percent true. You hate the words he’s speaking, appalled that you find yourself agreeing with him.
“My friends, at the end of days ... we get to our last chance. There’s always a Last Chance. That last push before you cannot push anymore. That last gasp of air, that last hope. By that point, unfortunately ... you’re weak. The engine powering the ambulatory meat suit you call a body has run itself ragged, trying for all these chances you’ve been so graciously ‘given’. Some you’ve made good on. Most you haven’t. And here before you sits one last chance ... do you take it, knowing you’ve been burned in the past?”
“Are you strong enough still?”
“This is where I find myself. I’ve reached the End of Days and here I sit, with you. We are at my End of Days. You are witness to MY Last Chance. The Last Chance battle royal. I have one last chance before me and I’m not a stupid man. This Last Chance battle royal? It’s simply a chance at a chance. I have the CHANCE ... to attempt the one thing I’ve chased for my entire adult life. I’ve gone nowhere else, I’ve done nothing else in my professional life. THIS IS IT. And I have a chance at the chance to make good on my life. To make my time on this disgusting plane of existence mean something!”
“And there is no one before me stronger. No one before me smarter. No one before me more WILLING to take everyone else’s chance away. There will be those who want to keep me from it. Some I will know, for they have declared their intentions. Some I will NOT know ... those much like myself who have been spurred on by the idea that there is a chance for them. This is it. One Last Chance for me to redeem a lifetime of failure towards the one goal I’ve made for myself.”
“When that Last Chance arrives ... and you all arrive with childlike hearts, wide-eyed and hopeful ... remember your Mother and Father, telling you that the chance is yours to take. And I will be there to remind you that you’re not a child anymore, that you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar ... “
“ ... and that DADDY’S HOME.”
***
“I think you should do it.”
Her words are candid and open, after having debated internally for the longest time. ‘In a few months, I know you and you’ll want to be home. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. You’ll want to be the man that your father was those years ago and you’ll want to be even BETTER. I know how that mind works ... and you’ll be done with it all. FINALLY. And there will be NO convincing you otherwise.”
“They don’t need me. I don’t need them. They’ve used my body and face, my blood and my tears, to build a name for themselves and I used them to build a foundation AWAY from them. Why on EARTH should I go back?” She ponders this for only a few seconds. “Because you’re not finished.”, she replies. “You’re not finished and you loathe the idea of leaving something unfinished. ESPECIALLY this. You’ve worked your entire life to be able to say that you were the BEST at what you do. That you were the best that the WORLD has to offer in your line of work. And to leave now? You’d never have that chance again. You’re running out of time and you know it. What’s coming is going to consume your LIFE. And you’ll always, at the End of Days ... wonder why you didn’t try just one more time.”
“And that thought will EAT YOU ALIVE.”
He regards her carefully, over the bowl of Fruit Loops before him. Milk dribbling down his beard in spots. Quite a sight to see. A tired, worn face over a colorful bowl of cereal. For underneath it all, he sits before her as a grown-up child. On the verge of taking on the ultimate journey, one that will change everything he knows. He will eschew simple pleasures for security. Turn away from late night drinks for getting a child onto the school bus. Nothing has ever frightened him as much and THAT is why he will never have this chance again: because he will never risk such a thing. She knows it and he knows it.
“Do it. Be the BEST IN THE WORLD when our child is born. That is the only rightful place for you and you KNOW it. You’ve already made your decision ... you just need me to tell you that it’s okay to chase this one last chance, don't you?”
He looks to her, across the table ... her lithe hand within his own burly paw. Enveloping her, drawing on her assurances as he lets out a sigh. All the wordless protests ... his mind still fighting the idea in vain. But even as the mind-goblins in his head begin to scratch just a little bit louder with hissing and shouts, she is there to drown them out.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
***
