Post by Eira on Dec 30, 2013 22:45:43 GMT -5
I know what you’re expecting to read here.
Up against Murdoc - again. The evil machinations of Skylar Marshall truly know no bounds, pitting lover against lover for his own sick amusement. The pathos and angst, heartbreak and despair, for how could I ever raise a hand to my own Beloved?
Oh honey, please.
Clearly you don’t know The Man in the Mask as well as you think. There are days when he really just needs a few around the head and shoulders. It’s been obvious during some of the on-screen interactions we’ve had that he and I haven’t exactly been cruising on the Love Boat lately.
Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not it either.
Of course, we can’t really avoid the match. I mean, it’s what we’re here to do. But we’ve survived worse with and against each other; this isn’t going to be the deal breaker. We’ve grown stronger as individuals and as a pair since Trauma 129, that night having been the first time we faced off against each other in the ring. This may surprise you, but I’m not entirely opposed to his hands being all over me, and...how do I put this delicately? Let’s just say that rather than a vanilla love life, ours has all 36 flavors - and then some. Barring the use of antiaircraft artillery, I’m pretty sure whatever you see in that ring is going to be just another night for him and I.
But I don’t know if any of you are even bothering to read this. The ongoing saga of The Untouchables, and of Eira and Murdoc, seems to do nothing but piss you all off these days. Heaven forbid you consider there may be a reason for it, outside factors that we have no control over. Oh no, we're the bad guys, it's nothing but work work work all the time these days. No rest for the wicked, and all that.
So let’s talk about the important part, which is what everyone is interested in anyway: what the actual hell is going on with Skylar Marshall? He’s either fucked right out of his tree on a substance that would defy pretty much any attempt at identification (unless, of course, we consulted Whitey Ford or Kelli Starr), or he’s flat out lost his goddamn mind. Out of the entire roster, who is left? The Untouchables. There might be a reason for this. Or maybe he has well and truly gone off the deep end. All I really know is this one thing:
This wasn’t what we wanted.
I can see you over there, rolling your eyes. Tasteful curtains, I must say, if a little chintzy against that armchair upholstery. It’s true, though. This wasn’t what we wanted. You might disagree with our tactics, you might disagree with our ideas, or our motives. But you’ve got to admit that something was wrong in PCW - and it wasn’t us. We weren’t even here. We had already taken our leave, a silent protest against a company gone to seed amongst rampant favoritism and the listless jocks I generously refer to as athletes. There were a few shining stars in even that era, and most of them are still here. Before anyone asks, no, we didn’t kill someone and have Whitey Ford framed for it just to get him out of here. If I’m being honest with you, I kind of miss the obnoxious, boozy, drug-addled bastard. At least he did his job while he was here. Then there’s Ace Anderson, retired by our...associate. One of the true pillars of PCW, taken out just like that. I suppose the end point I’m getting to is that this match at the Iceys is nothing more than a temper tantrum thrown by a narcissistic madman, an insane toddler in an adult’s body.
This match is not your problem, nor is it mine.
Our problem is one Skylar Marshall.