Post by Murdoc on May 19, 2014 17:56:51 GMT -5
I can remember …
… all the doubts.
The people, standing around their watercoolers. Talking about it as if it were some fore-gone conclusion. ‘Oh yeah. He’s definitely not gonna make it past the first round. I mean, if you’re going on trends and statistics alone …’ It was a sure bet. Lantlas beats Murdoc in the first round of the Icemann Invitational and finds himself steamrolling through into the finals and to the World Championship.
…
Unfortunately?
IT DIDN’T HAPPEN.
I defeat Lantlas and move to the next round.
Seems familiar, doesn’t it? Well if it doesn’t, let’s replace some names. Well, -a– name.
ACHEM.
Talking about it as if it were some foregone conclusion. It was a sure bet. Grimm beats Murdoc in the first round of the Icemann Invitational and finds himself steamrolling through into the finals and to the World Championship.
I think it’s safe to say that you idiots underestimated me! YOU DON’T BET AGAINST ME. In the times where normal men would choke, I STEP THE FUCK UP. I get the job done. So go ahead. Back me into a corner. Put Whitey Ford and myself together in a team. It doesn’t matter. I’ve made a CAREER of doing things that aren’t supposed to be done, that I’M not supposed to be able to do. AND I DO THEM. Routinely. I beat Lantlas. I beat Grimm. I BEAT MARSHALL’S LAW without throwing a single God damn punch!
So go ahead. Back me up against a wall. Put me in a clutch situation against a man who is spectacular in CRUMBLING in those situations and a man I beat last week just to prove a POINT. Hell, go ahead and put Whitey Ford on my nuts. This is not Murdoc the PCW Monster talking to you fans right now, this is a pissed off MARCUS MURDOC. Even after a decade, this is all the respect and consideration I merit?
Grimm beats Murdoc. End of story.
Lantlas beats Murdoc. End of story.
End of story? WRONG! I’M EDITING THE FUCKING STORY NOW. There is no end to the story until -I– say there’s an end. Hell, Whitey may as well not even show his face at Trauma. Because I’m not going for the win. Or teamwork. Or following the rules. I don’t CARE about any of that. It’s another tally mark for those morons who think tally marks are fucking impressive. After I’m done dropping bombs on Andy’s head like Hiroshima … after I plant Grimm in that beautiful red North Carolina clay … I’m going after Whitey and I’m gonna throw him in a vat of whiskey just so I can preserve the look of pain on his face. I may even go after Loki if I haven’t already dicked him out of a win against Cory Steel.
I’m not a Force of Nature.
I’m not a Horror.
I’m a biblical fucking plague, and I’m gonna be there to take out the first born of PCW.
You’d all better get real worried REAL QUICK.
****
‘ … well. That certainly was … SPIRITED.’
He stands there as the cameraman backs away in fear, watching the man’s muscles beg for action. A vein is popping on his forehead, mask having been tossed aside angrily. Not the typical spittle on lip, stark raving mad look … but a surface level calm weakly hiding the fury of a thousand suns. His heart rate and breath elevated, Murdoc does not respond to her poking and turns to the window.
‘A man can only take so much, my Queen … and I have reached that point. Every time the annual tournament rears its’ ugly head, I’m left in the same position as I -always– find myself. I’m revered until I’m left to do battle with another of similar standing. It’s maddening!’ His voice roars with the anger of the pantheon, blood-curdling and intense.
‘Well, you’ve done the flowery bullshit for the past however-long. Fuck decorum, crack skulls.’
“ … Ha. Catchphrase. Trademarked, fuck you.’
Murdoc looks up from the window along with Eira … at Jackson, who just returned from raiding the kitchen. Turkey sandwich in hand, Jackson takes a healthy bite from the sandwich and looks at the two … cheeks puffed out as he scarfs down. Murdoc casts his eyes over to Eira, who has a slight twinkle in her eyes. ‘ … you’ve been far too lenient for a bit longer than necessary. That and … well, to be perfectly blunt? The problem I’ve noticed is that when you put your head into the game you are nigh unstoppable. But when you hit that point where you just don’t care about your opponent? … you tend to slip up. In some fashion or another.’
Murdoc stares at her as if he’s considering her words, the idea behind it … for the first time.
‘Fight every match, consider EVERY OPPONENT … as if they were your last.’