Post by Murdoc on Jun 6, 2016 19:21:38 GMT -5
Take a deep breath ...
... and pull.
That’s what his parents told him, a wee Murdoc, when it was time to remove the band-aid. A very trivial, inconsequential thing. Just take a deep breath ...
***
‘ ... and PULL.’
The flash of Nathan Saniti’s legs dangling from above, violent spasms ... his own hand on the lever that sent him to such a short fall. It is this image that comforts him as the six-inch hatpin is dislodged from his hand. The knuckle throbbing with pain, sensation working over-time as the blood rushes to fill the gap. Ambitious blood, the gasoline-tinged liquid that powers This Machine, accepts its’ responsibility and fills the wound with little in the way of issue. That is, except for the over-abundance of it. The excess spurts several centimeters from the knuckle, drizzling the face of the nearest medical technician with its’ fiery warmth.
It’s oddly sexual, gratifying ...
... and Murdoc finds the image pleasing, though the distinction between reality and the fantasy of said blood erupting from Nathan’s lips as the noose tightens is a muddy pond to tromp through. The unlucky recipient of Murdoc’s blood tiding is quick to scramble for the nearest towel (Eira would probably enjoy that; Murdoc considered waiting to get home for this part), he chuckles with a grim bemusement.
A small sample of blood is placed into a tiny glass vial alongside the pin in a container and both are whisked away all in a matter of seconds. The only thing left is to dress the wound. To sit in silence while Murdoc stews in his own ultra-violent fantasies, it’s very apparent that he’s half present at best. The future isn’t bright, the future is red. All red and hatred and anger and ...
... fuck.
The title.
***
Just take a deep breath ...
The tape-wrapped gauze are loose now.
The daily motion of arms, flexing of sinewy muscles have weakened the hold of the adhesive. The ends of the tape looking almost like tassels now, frayed and worn ... pulled in all different directions until the fabric can no longer retain its’ intrinsic staying power. Michael Wryght. Nathan Saniti. Dan Fierce. The title. The ...
... the baby.
Different threads unravel from Murdoc's psyche, threatening to completely pull away from the core. Eventually, there will be a time where the Man will have to choose. And when one situation is still months away, the others present currently? Well, one can indulge in the fluff for just a little while longer, eh?
There was a time where Murdoc would likely be consumed by an all-powerful need to destroy Nathan Saniti from the head to the toes. A time where a massive pyre would be erected in his honor, whether or not he were dead. However, as is usually the case, Eira is the one who is correct and Nathan Saniti is not to blame. For her argument is one based in his own history, his own Pure Class story. What better way to combat the beast than with cunning and guile? To do battle in hand-to-hand combat would be downright suicidal, wouldn’t it make more sense to goad the Monster into a blind rage and turn his own psyche against him?
A powerful tactic, a successful tactic ...
... and one Murdoc can applaud, looking from a distance. "This is the fear you inspire in people. PHYSICALLY. Mentally is the only shot ANYone has in avoiding your destruction. But you are no fool yourself, you have to learn to BALANCE the Monster with the Man. It’s something you’ve struggled with your entire life and I KNOW that. It’s not a one-night fix but you are a complete being, and when you fully realize your TRUE potential ... “
“... then neither Heaven NOR Hell shall keep you from your desires.”
“Just take a deep breath ..."
The air fills his lungs as the tape and gauze are ripped from his flesh in one fell swoop. Little flecks of dead and dying skin, old and grey ... made obsolete by the tender, fully-formed skin underneath. The soft POP of hairs jerked violently from their follicles. His skin lights up from mid-forearm to the knuckles, synapses firing at full tilt. The sensation is exquisite and, much as the wee Murdoc did, he wonders why it was ever such a worrisome moment to begin with.
Forget Nathan Saniti. He has his own troubles to deal with; I’ll piss on the bones when his current troubles devour him.
Forget the tournament. I made my statement when I defeated a tournament’s worth of combatants in one match.
Calm. Deep breath. What’s next? How do you get to your title?
...
MY TITLE. MY TITLE. MY ...
My, my.
Trauma 193. Dan Fierce. The ... ahahaha. The winner of the 2016 Icemann Invitational Tournament. How perfect is it that you have been put before me. It’s as though kismet has decided that for all the shenaniganry, I should have something to show for my troubles. I should have my chance to smear your painted face on the mat like cheap watercolor.
I’m not walking out of Trauma 193 with a victory, so anyone predicting that might as well be prepared.
Now I'm sure all of you want to see a good fight. I'm sure Dan Fierce wants to see a good match. Pleases and thank yous and all the charm. The manners. Just like The Boy Scouts. You mentioned Boy Scouts, Dan ... be prepared for anything, eh? I don't know, I was never a Boy Scout. You knew that, I bet. But I'm sure you were, Dan. I'm sure you got all your badges. And that's perfect. That's very VERY good to know, because with your history with badges ... you're going to earn yourself a tag come Trauma 193.
Don't expect a match; expect aggravated assault. Because Dan, I'm aggravated. And when I get aggravated, there's assault. So don't pick me to win a match, fans. I'll save you the trouble: Dan Fierce wins by disqualification ...
... because I’m walking out with Dan Fierce’s head affixed proudly as my BELT BUCKLE. And Dan Fierce, when I FUCK YOUR FACE FROM THE NECK HOLE AS I WALK, you’ll know you’ll be able to tell St. Peter PERSONALLY that Michael Wryght is the one that completely fucked you. Michael Wryght, you can avoid this with one single stroke of the pen. Set the match up. That’s all you have to do.
SET THE TITLE MATCH UP OR I BURN THIS COMPANY TO THE GROUND WITH YOUR TALENT AS KINDLING.
