Post by Brother Zachariah on Nov 18, 2017 15:37:00 GMT -5
FADE IN: EXT. ABANDONED HOME - SPECIFIC LOCATION UNKNOWN - DAY
Gray skies sit over an aged and abandoned two-story structure residing on a seemingly dead end street; the roof slightly damaged from endless nights of stormy weather and the windows boarded. The front door however, has been kicked in.
DISSOLVE TO: INT. ABANDONED HOME - BASEMENT - DAY
The wooden staircase howl from prolonged use in response to the leather soles of an expensive pair of Christian Louboutins, belonging to Zachariah, made contact on his voyage down. Compared to the atmosphere he found himself in, he may have been considered overdressed for the occasion; but he made it a personal objective of his to look his best at all times.
Once his feet have made contact with the concrete floors, his icy blue eyes panned around the room; taking in the moment -- feeding on the energy in the room. Some good. Most bad. All painful. Memories hung from the wall like old photos or chipped paint. Yet his face remained expressionless.
BROTHER ZACHARIAH
This place holds a lot of memories, few of them good.
Trailing off his opening statement, Zachariah takes leisurely steps to the nearest wall, guiding his fingertips along the visible cracks.
BROTHER ZACHARIAH
If these walls could talk...my, the stories they would tell. Being here I am taken back to one of the more valuable lessons my Father taught us. “In many ways your careers we seem like running a marathon...”, he’d say, “...of course there is eagerness to be the one who breaks the tape but the true essence in a marathon isn’t to place -- it’s to finish.” In other words, it doesn’t matter how soon you get to the top as long as you get there.
His focus shifts from the structure, to the camera; physically acknowledging its presence for the first time.
BROTHER ZACHARIAH
I’m sure there are many who exists out there, curious of my intent behind this tale, who I am, or why I chose this particular location to give a speech, so allow me to address such accordingly. Two weeks ago on Primetime, the World Heavyweight Championship was surrendered to Xion Zeros, in tacky fashion by Amanda Cortez, to settle an old debt. As the night went on it was revealed in an exclusive with Adrianne Taylor, that the now vacant World Heavyweight Championship would soon find placement with a new owner in the coming year; and I aim to be him. Do not be fooled by my serene demeanor, when it comes to adhering the things I desire I will cease at nothing to get it. Resulting to any level of measures no matter how great or small. As of that windy Monday morning on the 13th day of November at 7:49AM, all of you insignificant commoners, athletically inferior mouth breathers, have something to worry about. Brother Zachariah.
His arms part from his side, ascending into the air, as his eyes flutter shut and head tilts back simultaneously. The mere mention of his name drives chills up the spine. That, in addition to his cold stare, could leave viewers frozen in ice.
Little was known of the GZWA’s latest signee. But he was intent on showing everyone exactly who he was and what he was capable of.
BROTHER ZACHARIAH
Which brings me to my whereabouts, excuse the ruptured pipes and moldy walls; I beseech you to look beyond what you see. This is the starting line...where my career officially began. As you can see there was a lingering absence of the essentials. There were no weights, ropes, turnbuckles, or even a decent mat for us to throw ourselves into. But what there was, was a sheet of cardboard taped to the cement flooring, an instructor with over a decade of personal experience in the business, and an eagerness to learn. That’s all we ever needed. Training ran everyday for four hours after school -- and double that on weekends. If you were late, you were punished. If you whined, you were punished. If you botched a move, you were punished -- severely. There was no mercy to be found when inside these walls; and it is for that, I will never be lenient with my adversaries. Llore wasn’t much of a Father...but he did the best he could by us. As a result, we never went hungry and credited to his methods - albeit, cruel and inhuman - have led me to Ground Zero; where I will make my in-ring debut against a man who goes by the name of Chance Justice.
A brief pause ensues, as he switches proceeds to switch the topic from himself to his first opponent.
BROTHER ZACHARIAH
Being a man of strategy and calculus, who would sooner slit his own wrists than storm into battle unprepared, I took the liberty of reviewing some of his latest encounters. Needless to say I wasn’t at all impressed by him. I found his performance(s) to be shallow, lacking in technique, and incredibly reckless for the sake of being reckless. Plenty of times he could have attempted a pinfall or applied an effective submission hold to further incapacitate his opponent, but instead would launch himself off the top rope. A chance is the last thing he stands in a full-on fight with me. I am physically, mentally, and spiritually more evolved than he and the rest of those sub-average neanderthals.
No one thought higher of Zachariah than he did. In his eyes, no one matched up to him and the GZWA Roster was no exception. They each pale in comparison to him -- hell, there was no need for comparison.
BROTHER ZACHARIAH
The only one thing that pegs him as interesting to me is his advocacy for ‘seeing is believing’ and his condemning of the supernatural for understandable reasons such as fear. Fear of what cannot be explained...or perhaps it’s to silence the constant worry in the crevices of his own mind? Either way it’s a proverb that will ultimately leave him blind in a world of endless possibilities. In my world he already is, a sightless man without a cane or canine -- a mere insect that will be crushed on my endeavor to the finish line.
FADE OUT.
