Post by Eira on Mar 30, 2013 14:01:46 GMT -5
PCW.
...
The Order.
The parallels were more than clear to Eira. Day after day, week after week, tugged this way and that to the whims of a “higher up”. Playing watchdog for someone who sucked corporate dick a little harder and a little longer to get a better position in the Order. Being the den mother of an ultimately pointless PCW title circuit because she somehow didn’t rate being put anywhere else. Heaven for-fucking-bid the machinations of the elite be muddied by the free will of the underlings, right?
The Genesis title has to be defended every show, without fail. At this point a title defense is nothing new, just another night, just another workout. The “real” title holders up on their pedestals, vaunted for being the very best - the one thing no one ever seems to consider is how long would they hold onto those belts if they defended them every single time they were in the ring. Despite all this, being pigeon holed into the Genesis circuit, (which admittedly is a step up from breaking in the new guys at the bottom of the card), she’s supposed to somehow get pulled into the hype and be excited a PPV event?
The critical difference between PCW and the Order is that the Order enforces obedience with threats and acts of violence. It’s easier to follow the rules if you find yourself eye-to-eye with the muzzle of a gun when you step out of line. PCW enforces it with...what? The baleful stare of the management? Marshall’s Law? A kiddie show cartoon character?
The Order threatening her to keep a tighter hold on Murdoc, an organization that no longer served its original purpose. Corruption in the ranks, the inevitable human sins of greed and hubris winding corrosive tendrils of dissention through a previously noble institution. PCW...even in her short tenure there, she’d noticed a downslide in the caliber of talent. Some of the most intimidating names becoming nothing more than a gimmicky plaything of management, powerful competitors losing their edge in the face of favoritism and apathy from the higher ups.
Thoughts swirled around in her head too fast for her to catch one and actually examine it. Only one thing stood out.
CONTROL.
It didn’t matter where, or how, she was under the control of others. It didn’t matter that the only control exerted over her was that which she allowed. It was that she had been under the control of others for entirely too long. Eira was inherently a force of chaos, having been described as a tornado filled with the glittering slivers of shattered razor blades. The only things people strive to control are that which can bring them power, or that which they fear[/i].
This match didn’t matter to her anymore - assuming it ever had. She was going to kick Crazy Boy’s half-retarded (but completely sane) ass AGAIN, she would tangle with Andy in a display of mutual athleticism that could end with either of them down and out... and she would do her best to bring down Murdoc before he forgot who he was in the ring with.
-”...Murdoc...”-
Oaths sworn to the Order, contracts signed with PCW - none of it mattered anymore. Nothing remained but her loyalty to Murdoc, and to the competitors who had gained her solid respect.
