It’s not often that I find myself actually fawning over someone. Ever since I found my first love cheating on me, I never thought I would love again.
However, when I laid my eyes upon you, I’ve fallen head over heels for you.
You’ve been spoken about in such high regard by everyone, including my fellow Uprising members. They said you were everything they could ever dream of. With such a reputation, I just had to scout you out myself.
I don’t regret the time I’ve spent fawning over you behind the scenes. Ever since I’ve set foot outside Deathrow, you’ve captured my attention in a way that no one else could. Just by standing in the spotlight, basking in the attention that everyone gives you, you’ve managed to take my breath away.
The problem is that nobody else sees you in the same light I do. To the rest of the Titans in Olympus, my comrades in arms included, you’re just a tool for fame, fortune, and freedom.
Even the one you’re with now doesn’t see you as a significant other. You’re merely a trophy for them to display and fight over on special occasions.
I plan to change all that when I win the Lambs to the Slaughter match. Me and nineteen other men and women will be fighting for the opportunity to rip you away from your neglectful relationship.
But no one other than me can be considered the right one for you. Nobody else that can possibly enter that match is capable of loving you properly.
Take Muerte as an example. He might serenade you with his dulcet tones, but he’d give you up in a heartbeat if it meant saving his job as a Mariachi. Just like he did with Vida back at Red Snow.
Vision? He blinded himself to all things beautiful years ago. He claims that by doing so, he can truly see things that no human can. However, this so called “true sight” hasn’t helped him see that every rose has its thorns, and his hands have been pricked badly as a result.
As for Colt? He only has his eyes set for Lionel, a man that won’t even pay him any mind unless he pays seven credits a month. That isn’t true love, it’s prostitution. Even then, prostitutes don’t spout bullshit about their God needing your hard earned credits.
Nineteen people will try to make their cases about why they deserve you, but all nineteen of them will be able to capture your heart like you have mine. They don’t deserve you like I do.
After dealing with all of them, I’ll be in the ring at Ring of Dreams to deal with Harold or Jasper. Once they’re out of the picture, then we’ll both live happily ever after, the way we should have been ever since I’ve broken out.
I’ll be seeing you soon, my beloved World Championship. I can’t wait for the opportunity to make you mine.
Love,
Miss Murder