Post by Murdoc on Jul 2, 2014 14:28:20 GMT -5
‘What determines a Legacy?’
The rain falls on my head ... I pay it little mind. I’m soaked to the bone and chilled through and through.
Feels amazing.
The preacher was a clever fellow. Legacy. Cute tie-in. He must’ve run out of segueways; borrowed Pure Class Wrestling’s idea. It works well enough, I suppose. Didn’t cheapen the occasion any; that’s the main point. You don’t cheapen a man’s life by bringing in some ham-fisted shot at wit. It just doesn’t fly.
I can feel it tugging at the back of my skull. The nagging thoughts, the thoughts I’ve been trying to keep AWAY since the morning. I don’t need to focus on my upcoming pay-per-view. Now is NOT the time. I’m here to celebrate the life and legacy of Martin Tyrone Little. Caring husband. Loving father. Devoted family man and accomplished professional. His lasting legacy would be that of unparalleled intergrity. His word was LAW and was never in doubt.
Unshakable impartiality. He was always about giving people a square deal. A fair shake. I can respect that. I can respect HIM. I’ll say this to his credit: no one ever intimidated him. Even me. No one could shake him. Was he cautious? Sure Absolutely. Especially after that whole turtle thing, he was wary as hell whenever I came around. But afraid? Can’t say he was. And that gets him respect in my book.
‘Is it the choices one makes? The level of success one attains?’
Tyrone was THE MAN. Professionally, of course. Hearing more of his personal details makes me to believe he was just like the rest of us. Made mistakes once or twice. It happens. Everyone makes mistakes. But in that ring? Little was impeccable. Had ME beat. He never flubbed a call, never missed a THING. It took some serious chicanery to put one past him; I would know. It took me some serious maneuvering to light someone up. I always looked at it as a challenge: how long can I go without Tyrone catching me?
I based my in-ring work on him. If I could put it past him, then I was still in business. He was the measuring stick. Not just to me, but to all the referees and the officials ... everyone at ringside.
... he deserves a proper send-off. I’m going to give him one.
The flower in my hand has beenhidden from the rain, still dry as can be. As the Zippo clicks open, the flint wheel struck ... before the sky can douse the flames, the flower is lit. Burning. Slowly, but burning. I toss it onto the freshly dug grave. Everyone else is gone and the words are still fresh in my mind. There’s no screaming, no cries of terrorist or demon or monster.
The flower is quickly extinguished ... the heavens deeming the fire unworthy as tribute on this day.
I actually agree.
Not today.
Murdoc sits calmly in a darkened room. Well ... dark-ISH. The room is lit by several television screens. Computer monitors. Slides. All of them depicting one thing: betting odds. Predictions. Comments. Messages. Emails. Newspaper clippings and news broadcasts. ALL of them touting Living a Legacy 6. Shaping up to be one of the BIGGEST pay-per-views of the year, thanks in part to the strength of the final two matches of the Icemann Invitational Tournament.
The four competitors:
Rick Majors.
Loki.
Murdoc.
Justin Michaels.
Wow. Hell of a final four. People are completely geschtonkenflapped when it comes to picking a winner. Collectively, it seems the tide is in favor of Rick Majors. Next on the list being Storm. Followed by Loki. Then Murdoc. Every single person polled up to this point has picked Murdoc to lose and fizzle out in the final four, most of them not even giving him the chance to make it to the finals.
... no one. Not one fucking person.
Are you all mental?!
Murdoc lashes out, roaring in anger and taking out a computer screen. The sudden crash and spark accentuating the darkness before leaving no trace except the aroma of wafting smoke.
Do you really think that 'Cinderella Story' Majors, The Drizzle and What’s-His-Face have THAT much of a lead on me? ME! I defy any of you to say that this gaggle of fuck-ups would have gotten past my opening round! Majors. Stormm. Loki. Not only are you not on my level IN THAT RING ... but on a personal note, you’re all shitty human beings and don’t deserve the distinction of being known as MEN.
You don’t DESERVE the accolades that the fans give you. Do you think they’d consider you so highly if they knew that not ONE of you had paid respects to recently fallen members of the PCW family? Oh yeah. How's THAT for the wall of shame? Loki and Stormm: there is not ONE FUCKING REASON that should have kept you from honoring OUR FRIENDS. Yes, I said OUR. These people were friends. Nearly family. Loki and Stormm, we’ve been here the longest and -I’m- the only one to pay any sort of attention?
Rick Majors? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here; you haven’t been here long enough to see these people as more than their jobs. But for fucks’ sakes, would it have killed you to show up? To show some courtesy? You’re trash. You’re LOW. ALL THREE OF YOU ARE WORTHLESS! Murdoc bellows with guttural anger and visceral fury, pulling televisions from their stands ... computers from their tables ... projectors from their carts. The room is a mechanical kaleidoscope as Murdoc has had all he can take.
ALL of you are SCUM! You’re the three that are gonna beat me? YOU THREE ARE GOING TO BEAT ME!?
NOT TODAY!
NOT EVER!
I’m better than you in that ring! I’M A BETTER PERSON THAN YOU -OUTSIDE- OF THAT RING! You have NO chance! None. NONE! Do you hear me you cockroach-level motherfuckers?! I’m going to annihilate you! I’m going to throw so much fire come Living A Legacy. Oh god, you - ... oh god. I don’t even want to think what I’m going to do to you. Murdoc’s words are ragged, breathless. Consumed from the inside out by the fire in his belly, he lays motionless ... the broken glass, sizzling circuit ... burnt fuses. All around. Underneath.
I hate you three SO much right now.
I can’t even see straight.
All I see is red.
It won’t stop until the pay-per-view is over. Until I stand over two bloated bodies, filled with overblown hype and hot air. One of you will be lucky, though. Whoever doesn’t make it to the finals between you, Majors and Loki, are so fucking lucky. Because you’ll have the chance to LEAVE before I come find you. You all deserve to be beaten within an inch of your miserable lives. You three are disgusting, IN that ring and OUT.
...
What IS a legacy, you miserable fucks? Better yet, what is YOUR legacy? We’re gonna see here REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL soon what your fucking legacy will be. But MY Legacy?
'He can look himself in the mirror.'
I’m going to beat some fucking humanity into you.
The rain falls on my head ... I pay it little mind. I’m soaked to the bone and chilled through and through.
Feels amazing.
The preacher was a clever fellow. Legacy. Cute tie-in. He must’ve run out of segueways; borrowed Pure Class Wrestling’s idea. It works well enough, I suppose. Didn’t cheapen the occasion any; that’s the main point. You don’t cheapen a man’s life by bringing in some ham-fisted shot at wit. It just doesn’t fly.
I can feel it tugging at the back of my skull. The nagging thoughts, the thoughts I’ve been trying to keep AWAY since the morning. I don’t need to focus on my upcoming pay-per-view. Now is NOT the time. I’m here to celebrate the life and legacy of Martin Tyrone Little. Caring husband. Loving father. Devoted family man and accomplished professional. His lasting legacy would be that of unparalleled intergrity. His word was LAW and was never in doubt.
Unshakable impartiality. He was always about giving people a square deal. A fair shake. I can respect that. I can respect HIM. I’ll say this to his credit: no one ever intimidated him. Even me. No one could shake him. Was he cautious? Sure Absolutely. Especially after that whole turtle thing, he was wary as hell whenever I came around. But afraid? Can’t say he was. And that gets him respect in my book.
What determines a Legacy?
‘Is it the choices one makes? The level of success one attains?’
Tyrone was THE MAN. Professionally, of course. Hearing more of his personal details makes me to believe he was just like the rest of us. Made mistakes once or twice. It happens. Everyone makes mistakes. But in that ring? Little was impeccable. Had ME beat. He never flubbed a call, never missed a THING. It took some serious chicanery to put one past him; I would know. It took me some serious maneuvering to light someone up. I always looked at it as a challenge: how long can I go without Tyrone catching me?
I based my in-ring work on him. If I could put it past him, then I was still in business. He was the measuring stick. Not just to me, but to all the referees and the officials ... everyone at ringside.
Is it your success in the ring?
Or is it something more?
YOUR collective legacy hinges on this pay-per-view and your ability to come out on top.
All I have to say is ...
... he deserves a proper send-off. I’m going to give him one.
The flower in my hand has beenhidden from the rain, still dry as can be. As the Zippo clicks open, the flint wheel struck ... before the sky can douse the flames, the flower is lit. Burning. Slowly, but burning. I toss it onto the freshly dug grave. Everyone else is gone and the words are still fresh in my mind. There’s no screaming, no cries of terrorist or demon or monster.
The flower is quickly extinguished ... the heavens deeming the fire unworthy as tribute on this day.
I actually agree.
Not today.
NOT TODAY.
Murdoc sits calmly in a darkened room. Well ... dark-ISH. The room is lit by several television screens. Computer monitors. Slides. All of them depicting one thing: betting odds. Predictions. Comments. Messages. Emails. Newspaper clippings and news broadcasts. ALL of them touting Living a Legacy 6. Shaping up to be one of the BIGGEST pay-per-views of the year, thanks in part to the strength of the final two matches of the Icemann Invitational Tournament.
The four competitors:
Rick Majors.
Loki.
Murdoc.
Justin Michaels.
Wow. Hell of a final four. People are completely geschtonkenflapped when it comes to picking a winner. Collectively, it seems the tide is in favor of Rick Majors. Next on the list being Storm. Followed by Loki. Then Murdoc. Every single person polled up to this point has picked Murdoc to lose and fizzle out in the final four, most of them not even giving him the chance to make it to the finals.
... no one. Not one fucking person.
Are you all mental?!
Murdoc lashes out, roaring in anger and taking out a computer screen. The sudden crash and spark accentuating the darkness before leaving no trace except the aroma of wafting smoke.
Do you really think that 'Cinderella Story' Majors, The Drizzle and What’s-His-Face have THAT much of a lead on me? ME! I defy any of you to say that this gaggle of fuck-ups would have gotten past my opening round! Majors. Stormm. Loki. Not only are you not on my level IN THAT RING ... but on a personal note, you’re all shitty human beings and don’t deserve the distinction of being known as MEN.
You don’t DESERVE the accolades that the fans give you. Do you think they’d consider you so highly if they knew that not ONE of you had paid respects to recently fallen members of the PCW family? Oh yeah. How's THAT for the wall of shame? Loki and Stormm: there is not ONE FUCKING REASON that should have kept you from honoring OUR FRIENDS. Yes, I said OUR. These people were friends. Nearly family. Loki and Stormm, we’ve been here the longest and -I’m- the only one to pay any sort of attention?
Rick Majors? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here; you haven’t been here long enough to see these people as more than their jobs. But for fucks’ sakes, would it have killed you to show up? To show some courtesy? You’re trash. You’re LOW. ALL THREE OF YOU ARE WORTHLESS! Murdoc bellows with guttural anger and visceral fury, pulling televisions from their stands ... computers from their tables ... projectors from their carts. The room is a mechanical kaleidoscope as Murdoc has had all he can take.
ALL of you are SCUM! You’re the three that are gonna beat me? YOU THREE ARE GOING TO BEAT ME!?
NOT TODAY!
NOT EVER!
I’m better than you in that ring! I’M A BETTER PERSON THAN YOU -OUTSIDE- OF THAT RING! You have NO chance! None. NONE! Do you hear me you cockroach-level motherfuckers?! I’m going to annihilate you! I’m going to throw so much fire come Living A Legacy. Oh god, you - ... oh god. I don’t even want to think what I’m going to do to you. Murdoc’s words are ragged, breathless. Consumed from the inside out by the fire in his belly, he lays motionless ... the broken glass, sizzling circuit ... burnt fuses. All around. Underneath.
I hate you three SO much right now.
I can’t even see straight.
All I see is red.
It won’t stop until the pay-per-view is over. Until I stand over two bloated bodies, filled with overblown hype and hot air. One of you will be lucky, though. Whoever doesn’t make it to the finals between you, Majors and Loki, are so fucking lucky. Because you’ll have the chance to LEAVE before I come find you. You all deserve to be beaten within an inch of your miserable lives. You three are disgusting, IN that ring and OUT.
...
What IS a legacy, you miserable fucks? Better yet, what is YOUR legacy? We’re gonna see here REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL soon what your fucking legacy will be. But MY Legacy?
'He can look himself in the mirror.'
The title .. the title shot ... they're perks at this point.
The real goal now?
I’m going to beat some fucking humanity into you.
