Supernova

[Murdoc]

A chance.

Isn’t that right?

A chance. Not just -a- chance ... but THE chance. The only chance, the only opportunity that really matters. A chance to become the World Champion. A chance to cement your place in the history books of Pure Class Wrestling. And for some, that chance is more than enough to drop everything and attack. Because you want it! YOU’RE HUNGRY for it, aren’t you? Don’t you WANT IT? DON’T YOU WANT THAT HUNK OF GOLD AROUND YOUR WAIST?!

The video has yet to catch up with the audio, there seems to be an error syncing the two.

Of course you do. WE ALL DO. Winning that title ... puts you on a rocket to the upper echelon. The stratosphere. For me, it’s a chance for something different. Something so much more important than a championship. Something SO MUCH MORE important than winning the Deadly Rumble. For me?

IT’S THE CHANCE TO DO IT ALL AT ONCE.

Murdoc is everywhere and nowhere. The audio and video are still out of step with each other, but it doesn’t really matter. The video is nothing but static. Snow, much like the snow of the last week. Gentle and lethargic, blanketing everything with a soft caress.

At the Deadly Rumble, I have a chance to do EVERYTHING that means ANYTHING to me anymore. I have the chance to win my FIRST Deadly Rumble. I have the chance to get my hands on Whitey Ford again; I find you can never punch that fuck enough. I have the chance to win the World Championship. All in ONE FELL SWOOP. That, right there ... ? THAT, my friends ... is HISTORY.

A mark in the history books that will NEVER be duplicated. A year that will NEVER be surpassed by any one man. 2014 will forever be known as the year of MURDOC. I’d be lying if I said that I’d not considered all of this. The Year of Murdoc. It has an amazing ring to it. And after all is said and done?

... FUCK THAT.

The static grows angrier, more violent ...

I’m not going into the Deadly Rumble for history. I’m not going into the Deadly Rumble for championships, for career firsts. I’m going into the Deadly Rumble with one purpose. One goal ... and that is to FINALLY get my hands on Billy Sadistic. I’ll never deny that the World Championship has been my ultimate goal for damn near a decade. Everyone knows that. But Billy, compared to the pound of flesh I’m going to extract from you? That World Title is meaningless! I will have my revenge ... I will have your melted-cheese face skin in my hands by nights’ end!

Almost a month ago, you made a grievous error. A mistake that will rank near the top of legendary fuck-ups. You nailed it, you Hangtown Hobbit. You’ve stepped on the wrong toes, you’ve barked up the WRONG tree. I’m not going to threaten you. I don’t need to. I’m not going to posture, that time is over. It’s been over for a LONG time now. You just haven’t gotten to the end point yet. But that time is rapidly approaching. Sunday Night. Deadly Intentions. Truer words were never spoken: Deadly Intentions.

I have nothing but Deadly Intentions for you. I don’t give a damn about Whitey Ford or the World Title or winning the Deadly Rumble. I’m coming for you and you alone. And to anyone who gets in my way. Cory Steel. Nathan Saniti. Whitey Ford. Wryght and Grimm. I WILL TAKE YOU OUT. I’m not coming to win. I’m coming to DIE. I won’t walk out of Deadly Intentions under my own power. I will expend every ounce of lighter fluid venom in my soul and I will burn everyone and everything.

The video and audio finally sync, right at the end ... as it always was meant to.

We will ALL burn together ...

... but I’m personally dragging Sadistic by the hair when we go.

****



I found you as a beast.

Howling and raging in the darkness.

I tried to be a man, to be worthy of your affection.

Murdoc finds himself hunched over, staring in the mirror at a reflection he recognizes all too well. A visage unencumbered by a metal grin. A face worn and aged prematurely, poisoned by the hatred and evil things done. A cancer ... slowly burning every last good thing away until nothing is left but anger and destruction.

I should have known they would never let me be.

I said it years ago.

They had to know. They had to control everything.

His mind clear for the first time in years, Murdoc finds himself in a place that had been long forgotten to the winds ... scattered to the very edges of existence. A place of recognizance .. a place given to every soul, that calm and serene place of understanding. Where one goes to finally know.

The fans.

The company.

The Order.

Self-styled Masters of the Universe. All of them.

... they nearly got away with it.

NEARLY.

His voice tremulous, taking over the slow ... measured cadence of his thoughts, Murdoc’s whispered voice is the only sound in a bleak midnight. And the only thought left remaining stick on repeat. Over and over. The anger building in his voice with each utterance. A mantra of sorts. Rallying the anger, the pride ... the very thing that Murdoc had been struggling with. A thought so large in his mind that he might lose ALL reason were he to speak it aloud. Nothing left to lose. His regression complete ...

I am not a pawn.

I am NOT a pawn.

I AM NOT A PAWN.

I AM NOT A PAWN!!

CRASH!

The sound of porcelain breaking, the walls thudding with impact ... it’s finally happened. Murdoc has totally and completely lost his shit.

I am MURDOC! I am no man’s play-thing! I will not be toyed with, will not be maneuvered across the board ... -I- AM THE HAND! I move the pieces, I set the board ... I OWN THE GAME! I will not be taken lightly, I will NOT be --

... I’m so sorry, my King.

Her voice is soft.

Genuine.

Sincere.

A sudden hush falls over the room. Murdoc looks back over his shoulder, chest heaving and muscles tense ... he dare not respond. Dare not speak, lest soul-flame consume both of them.

We have SO much to discuss ...