A Debut? More Like The Beginning Of Domination.
Apr 7, 2015 7:17:11 GMT -5
Speede, Joey Flash, and 2 more like this
Post by Zione Redington on Apr 7, 2015 7:17:11 GMT -5
Each strike crunched off the punching bag firmly, each punch sent it craning backward and forward, while every kick would send it swinging from corner to corner in a sweeping action, and then, with every rest break, the bag would return right where it started originally.
Then that same event would be repeated, albeit with a different strike variation. With every blow that landed, the punching bag got sent flying further and further away, each strike seemed more impactful, more accurate, with more intent behind it.
Sweat dripped down onto the blue mat underneath the feet of Zione Redington, who stood before the maroon punching bag, each fist covered over the top by a black, dull looking boxing glove. Behind Zione, a boxing instructor stood, watching him from behind. He listened carefully to the thwacking sound that emanated throughout the entire gym, while nodding to the rhythm, the pattern that had been created by the flurry that each of Zione’s fist had created.
The sweat continued to drip onto the mat, and it trickled down the face of Zione, and eventually… it soaked through the grey shirt that he wore, it had been a typical day for Zione. He had been back in the gym, the exact place he had been for the past month almost. Every day have been an almost exact replica… and exact repeat of the last, and the improvement had shown quickly. Evident by the way Zione laid into the bag with no regard for anything around him.
The pure determination that set over the face of Zione spoke louder than any scream or shout, the look that had sprawled over him remained the same whenever he had trained. The determination, the concentration, the showing of heart, will and spirit? It had all led to him being nicknamed…
“The Diamond Heart.”
He took the name on with a little reluctance. Zione had been a humble man for what had felt like an eternity to him, but at the age of sixteen, he stepped into the ring.
Not a wrestling ring, a boxing ring.
Zione Redington had begun a career in boxing, before he even thought about moving into the world of wrestling.
He wanted to perfect the game that he had known little about, and while perfection could never really be reached, he nearly reached the peak, the very top of the sport.
At least, he thought he did.
Zione moved away from boxing after competing for nearly half a decade, eventually, he learnt that he would have to become better-rounded to ever make it.
To ever make it into the world of wrestling.
“Alright, have a break, Zione.”
Zione stopped laying into the bag for a moment, he grabbed onto the punching bag from either side, and centred it, moving it back where it started. He then twisted backward, and glanced inquiringly over to the instructor, who smiled and motioned over to the resting bench, which had been placed not too far away from the punching bag.
Panting and heaving, Zione pulled up the grey shirt and moved to wipe away the sweat that had formed over him, but when he realized that the shirt had been drenched too, he dropped the idea and sighed loudly, before gratefully accepting the water bottle that the instructor offered him with an out-stretched hand.
Zione then made way over to the bench, which he squatted over before taking a seat, he leaned up against the stone wall that stood behind him, and groaned in relief. He reached over to an area off screen, and pulled a white towel into view, he then proceeded to wipe away at most of the facial area, when he placed the towel back down, the sweat no longer remained over him.
He looked upward toward the instructor, who had a bewildered and amazed look over him. The look almost seemed to be one of awe, but Zione didn't acknowledge it just yet.
“You know, I don’t understand how you keep doing it, man.”
The tone in which the instructor spoke left everything up to interpretation, Zione didn’t know whether he had meant that in a complimenting manner, or one that suggested he should take a bit of a break from trying to break the limit. Zione shrugged nonchalantly, the determined look from earlier still set over him
“I can’t slow down now, or it’d all be for nothing.”
The instructor nodded deliberately, with a borderline inquiring look beginning to make way over him.
For the instructor, he had never seen somebody with the work ethic of Zione, somebody that would try to break the limit each and every time they set foot in the gym. He knew that in the gym, Zione became a different animal. Almost like a predator hunting pray, he had the exact same aura and feeling that surrounded him.
“Don’t you ever feel like stopping?”
The question hadn’t meant to question Zione or how he felt at all, he just wanted to understand why Zione never wanted to stop, why he wanted to keep going no matter what had happened earlier in the day, no matter how hard the training had been for him.
Zione’s gaze levelled upward, a scowl had almost formed over Zione’s face, and he straightened up slightly when he began to answer the instructor.
“You may not understand why, but I’ll explain it the best I can. After all, you haven’t known me for long.” Zione said, trying to keep a neutral and level tone, even though the question had insulted him slightly.
Zione looked past the instructor with a faraway look in his eye, when he began to speak.
The story had been told many a time, Zione never got tired of telling it, since it brought him back to when he had been a child, when everything had been a chore, when it had all been a walk in the park for him. Now life had gotten much harder, but every time he could go back into the past, every time he could talk about the past?
He revelled in it.
“Back in a time where I had been but another face on the planet, I had to deal with the chore of going to school, like every other human being on the planet, and let me be the first to tell you, I didn’t like it at all.”
He spoke with a certain edge, a tone that matched the fierce light that had begun to build up in the eye of Zione.
“I performed well, I did what I needed to do. But I grew tired of it very quickly, there had been no variety, no change, everything had been a set routine. In the end, it started to get to me. I never liked it in the first place, but the fact that I had to put up with it every day? It tired me quickly, at a pace that even I didn’t expect.”
He gripped down onto the water bottle next to him, that he had placed down earlier, and took a small sip of it, he allowed the water to slide down the throat slowly, before swallowing. He smiled gratefully, before continuing.
“People suggested that maybe I should move up a year level, maybe I should be given harder work. My mind advanced far too quickly for the people that attempted to teach me. I’m not telling you that I had been smarter than them at a young age, but I moved too fast for even them to comprehend. People soon began to bring up the idea that I’m a prodigy… that I am too advanced for a regular school, that I should be pushed.”
The instructor seemed intrigued in what Zione had to speak, but he interrupted, albeit hesitantly.
“How were you that good at a young age though? Most people don’t begin to develop that young.”
Zione chuckled slightly, but the grin that emerged over him soon faded away once more.
“I never allowed age to dictate me or my ability, I never allowed a boundary to stop me, a limit to hold me back, in the end… I simply advanced forward, no matter what stood before me. Every challenge, every hurdle that I had to leap over? They stood there only for a moment, before I passed them by. Eventually, I passed everything, and everyone by, in the blink of an eye.”
He stopped for a moment, almost in an attempt to check what he had said, he levelled his gaze over toward the boxing instructor once more, and gave an apologetic look in his direction.
“I’m not rambling, am I?” Zione said, while holding up a hand apologetically.
“Not at all, but I would’ve thought a hard worker like you didn’t start off talented.” the boxing instructor replied.
“I didn’t start off talented at all, not when it came to wrestling and boxing, but I think I’ve worked my way past the “talented” people, now I’m among the best of the best.” Zione replied, while beginning to stand back up, he planted one foot to the ground, and then the other before pushing up to a vertical base. He clenched and unclenched his fists, which were still inside the boxing gloves, before making way over to the punching bag once more.
“Do you think we’ll be able to get another set in before I have to take my leave?” Zione asked, lips pursed.
The instructor stood still for a moment, a hand placed upon his chin. What Zione had said seemed to have affected him in one way or another, only when Zione spoke again, did he snap out of the little trance that had apparently left him motionless.
“Are you feeling alright, Aaron?” Zione questioned, a concerned look forming over him.
The instructor, Aaron, nearly jumped up in shock, he had fallen into a trance, after hearing what Zione had said, he realized that there had been more to the young man than had met the eye, he began to nod slowly while he spoke.
“Yeah, we can go for one more… just remember-“ he began, before being interrupted by Zione.
“Don’t overwork?” Zione said, Aaron turned to look at him with an odd look on his face, before dropping the look and simply laughing.
“You got it, Zione.” He said, both men nodded, and Zione then began to pound into the bag again, strike after strike landing off the punching bag with impact.
What Zione had gathered from the time he had spent at the gym?
He had learnt one major thing from there, and it had been…
Repetition.
Repetition led one to believe that the more they practiced, the better they’d become.
Zione looked at it in that light, and repetition taught him that through hard work and effort, he’d reach whatever pinnacle, whatever peak he’d want to reach.
Zione repeated every action, every movement with accuracy, with determination, and most of all, he stayed consistent.
Through being consistent, everything had become memory, every action, all of it had become an instinct that he had drilled into himself with hard work.
He spent time in the gym, and he did everything he thought he needed to do to make it to the top, and most importantly…
He did it every day, in a never-ending cycle that he would continue to do until the day he died.
Everything Zione did had something behind it, and although it may be cliché, he knew that if he didn’t do it all the time, it would never succeed, it wouldn’t get him anywhere.
But in-between all the hard work, Zione began to realize, began to notice… that life had changed for him.
When he had been a child, he had worked and done all he could to set up a future, to help out the people around him. But Zione had been forgetting one thing, and he still hadn’t remembered it.
Being social, having a life that didn’t link back to work, or earning money, or succeeding.
He had forgotten about the people that had meant the most to him, all in search of the one thing he had been longing for.
Achievement, succeeding. Everything that could be related to performing well. Zione, most of all… he wanted to be remembered for having an impact on the world, for being someone that could be remembered for not being limited by the imagination.
The journey had begun now, and what Zione had been searching for…
Will be uncovered, piece by piece, and gradually… he will come to find it.
The missing piece to the puzzle, will be found.
LATER ON… IN AN UNKNOWN LOCATION…
Illuminating in the dim room, the lamp sat alone in the corner, leaving but the smallest bright spot in the room filled with dark. In the other corner of the room, a door can be seen swinging open, and following right through the doorway, Zione Redington. He looked around the room for a moment, before placing a palm onto the door, shoving it shut, and walking into the centre of the barely illuminated room, where he sat down on the lone, solitary chair in the middle of the room.
“The WCF must be quite the organization indeed. With talent brewing in every corner, men and women attempting to prove their worth each and every day, I’ve grown tired of it, really.
“Look at what I must contend with on the next Slam, I’m participating in a Battle Royale.
“No, I didn’t just make an error, I’m competing in a Battle… Royale.
“Why must I be clustered into a pack that can’t contend with me, even on their best day? I have no idea, but management would be glad to tell you why.
“I’ve been stereotyped, I’ve been thrown into a pit, and now I have to worry about proving I can actually dominate in a federation riddled by filler that think they’re somehow special, somehow important.
“Unfortunately for me, I am the man who must have to deal with all the filler that have been ruining the WCF for a long, long time.
“A group of new people all pitted against each other, in what will virtually be a cluster, a contest judged mainly by the ability of who can get lucky enough to throw other people out of the ring.
“I find it pitiful, considering it’ll take no real skill or talent to win in a matched filled with people who simply can’t get the job done. Judging by who I must deal with on Slam, I will be steam-rolling through everyone, and continuing on my journey up the card.
“Sadly enough, everyone that’ll be participating in the Battle Royale will be put to the slaughter, they will be sacrificed. But I can let you know right now, I’m not going to be the one being sacrificed. Each and every one of them will fall before me, whether it be direct or indirect, I will be the one proving that I am here to make an impact, that I am here to dominate the competition.
“Pitting me against the rest? It’s going to be a slaughter, a contest that’ll only be remembered due to the complete domination, the complete destruction that had been created by one man, and one man only… Zione Redington.
“Just look at who I’m competing against.
“Howard Black, how original can you get? Coming up with a name that must be taken my at least a million other people in the whole wide world. Howard Black even had the ignorance to challenge my on twitter, where he came up with playground insult after playground insult in an attempt to somehow get under my skin. Let me tell you right now, you didn’t get under anything, all you’ve done is certify the fact that you’ll be the first one getting thrown out of the ring. That you’ll be the first one to go.
“I don’t mind being active on the internet, but at least what I’ve said can be said to have a little bit of weight behind it, every word typed by Howard Black can only be said to show just how he very well may be the epitome of stupidity. The man who will only be acknowledged for the amount of idiocy he can show. I must admit, even I could only sit down and look on in complete and utter shock, when most people spray out something stupid in my direction, most of the time I just efficiently cut them down, bit by bit, piece by piece… but Mister Black? You were too poor to deal with. You fooled me once with your ignorant little statement, then the very next time out, you showcased just why you’ll never get anywhere in your career here, with your grade-school insult that reminded me of an insult that a depressed little child would spout out.
“Honestly, you’re just too pitiful to deal with. But really, I should be moving on. I wouldn’t want to go on too long.
“The amount of time I’ve spoken about Howard Black? It’s already exceeding how long he’ll last in our little Battle Royale, thus I move on to the next people stepping forward, in a futile attempt to somehow stop me from winning.
“I’ll go on and speak about Florian Stark, who may provide to be at least a tad more interested than the last man I had to talk about.
“Right, Florian Stark. I’ve heard nothing of you, and I don’t think I would really enjoy hearing anything from you. Apparently you’ve been through a bit of wrestling, but it won’t really amount to much for you in the end.
“You may be technically sound, but I’ll be a better wrestler than you, you may be able to strike, but I’ll be a better striker than you, you may be quick, I’ll be quicker, you may be strong, but I’m stronger. In every way imaginable, I simply out-do you, even if you may think differently, Florian.
“I don’t care about age, but at the ripe age of eighteen I am all-knowing of the fact that your lack of inexperience will come to haunt you, I too am not the most experienced of men here at the WCF, but I can already tell that you can’t keep your head straight, even when you try to remain calm.
“But it’ll be quite sad indeed, how will the young Florian ever recover after facing a shocking defeat served right to him by Zione Redington? We won’t know until next week, but I will be quite intrigued, quite interested to watch how you proceed to try and convince everyone you will somehow be the victor of our little match-up.
“Who would be next on the list? Chris Moody.
“I don’t know why you’d go around being called “The Nightmare”, to be honest. I don’t even know if you were thinking when you decided to be branded with that nickname. But judging by your nickname, I’ll go on to make a quick assumption or two.
“One, you’re either a pitiful wrestler, which will be why you’re called “The Nightmare”, since you’re that bad in the ring that you make the worst of the worst look good.
“Or two, you’re another man trying to make a living out of being dark, scary and apparently “spooky”. What can I tell you about that? You’re another generic man who will attempt to wear a suit, or a mask that’ll already be worn out. Much like your career here, even though you haven’t been around for long, you’ve already over-stayed your welcome, you’ve already showed just why you won’t ever amount to anything more than another generic bottom-feeder who had a dream, a dream to make it to the top.
“Then again, why would someone like you dream to reach the top, when you can barely reach the first rung on a tall… tall ladder?
“Speaking of generic, why don’t we speak of “The Soldier”, Alex Ruler?
“Your name may create a bit of pandemonium, a bit of confusion. I’m already finding a fatal flaw within you.
“Your last name? Ruler. Your nickname? Soldier. How do they relate? You’re a soldier in the field, but you’re a Ruler? I apologize if I’m getting it all wrong, really I do, but what you’ve created here can only be called contradictory.
“The only excitement you’ll be creating? The moment you get thrown over the top rope, and the crowd will be cheering. Hey, maybe if you last longer than a minute, I’ll be kind enough to throw you hard enough that you do a flip, that’ll really get the crowd going, won’t it?
“Since you won’t be doing anything to get the crowd excited on your own, I should try and help you out along the way, it would only be right, since I’ll be carrying the match from start to end.
“Cyanide, the man who couldn’t be. Why do I call you that? Mainly your outfit, really. If you can’t be yourself, then who can you expect to be? You’re out here wearing face paint, which in itself may be even more generic than pretending to be a “Nightmare”. Honestly, it’s over-done, just like the rest of your gimmick and attire. If I had to be frank, I’d actually call you over-cooked, you’re out of your depth, my friend. You’ve been thrown into the deep end, and you won’t be lasting long enough to make it out, you won’t get a chance to breathe, I won’t allow you to.
“And here we have it, the final participant in the match, and maybe most importantly, a women.
“Why do I mention her gender? Mainly due to it being the only real reason she may be lucky enough to be remembered after our match, since she’ll be getting thrown out in quick-time, just like every other sad participant who may be unlucky enough to get in my path.
“What more can I tell you? I definitely won’t enjoy harming a women, I may even hold back a slight amount, if you’re lucky enough, I will. Since at my best, at my one-hundred percent, none of you can compare.
“If I wanted it to be fair, I’d bring in my “C-Game”, just to keep it fair against all of your “A-Game” that you may try and bring to the table. That’s just it, me attempting to be mediocre can out-do all of you trying to be great, it’s just the way it’ll work.
“Natural talent mixed with hard-work, all of it will pay off in the end, all of it will culminate into the moment where I shock the world.
“Wait, I apologize. I won’t be shocking the world at all, it’ll be quite the opposite, in fact.
“I won’t be shocking anyone, there won’t be any surprises. The match will go exactly the way we all know it will, a Zione Redington victory, and if you’re all lucky enough, you’ll last longer than a minute.
“My athletic ability, my striking, my technical wrestling, it’s all simply too good for whatever you lot may bring to the table. It’s a sad truth, but a real one that you all must accept sooner or later, you’ll be brought back down into reality, whether you want to be brought back down or not.
“You’re all riding on an emotional high right now, and I’m about shoot you down. If you really think about it, I’m not harming you at all, I’m helping you, I’m helping you all realize just how pathetic you really are.
“You may all think that you’re something that you’re not, and I don’t want to have to go around listening to you blab on about crap that won’t amount to anything except complete and total embarrassment for you.
“You see, when you step into that ring, you’ll first thing you may have a shot, then it’ll all be down to fate, your performance will be dictated by luck, really. Sadly enough, Mister Black won’t be lasting very long at all, since I’ve decided his ignorance must be punished, due to his lack of logic and common thinking, I will take it upon myself to remove him, but after that… it’s all down to luck.
“That’s all the audience should tune in for, they should start betting, actually. Start betting on who will be lucky enough to be called the “Runner-Up” in the little Battle Royale that management thought would be a good idea to run.
“After I’m through, they won’t think putting a man of my calibre in with a bunch of insolent fools will be a good idea, they’ll be sure to stray far away from ever repeating their mistake.
“Just remember, it’s just bad luck you’ve all been put up against an incredible talent in your debut match, it’s all just bad luck. Maybe the next time you step out, you’ll actually be facing one of each other one on one, and maybe then you’ll have a chance at racking up what very well could be your only shining moment in the WCF.
“But until then, you’ll all have to worry about dealing with “The Diamond Heart”, the man who won’t hide behind a façade of lies and fake gimmicks, a man who will take it upon himself to do everything he can to step up to the challenge.
“Although I know the challenge won’t be coming around this week, for now, I’ll be able to enjoy a little break, I’ll be able to rest easy knowing who I’m coming up against.
“But when a real challenge may be brought to me, I’ll be sure to pass the test. The test that each and every one of you in this Battle Royale will FAIL come Slam.
“It’s just the way it’s going to be.
“I’m destined to succeed, to reach the pinnacle, the peak, the top of the mountain.
“Meanwhile, you’re all destined to linger at the bottom, forever and always.
“It’s going to be like that for the rest of your career here, and it’ll eat at you like a fox chewing into the stomach of a young, Spartan warrior.
“You may try and be brave, you may try and hide your emotion, but after we’re done, all your emotion will come flooding out.
“You’ll all be broken and limp, and I’ll still be standing.
“I am Zione Redington, the shining warrior in amidst the dark that decided to plague the WCF, the bright light that’ll emerge to dominate everyone and everything.
“I am The Diamond Heart, the ruler amongst men, and the man that’ll be sure to hand you defeat on Sunday.
“Enjoy whatever remaining time you have left, it’s all coming to an end on Slam.”
The image on screen can slowly be seen fading away… and then cutting over to a different area. A small cabin just on the edge of a huge forest, in the far distance, a huge mountain can be viewed, towering over everything in sight. Another cut on the screen, and we’re within the cabin, and we can now see Zione Redington sitting down upon a long and dark couch, which allowed him to kick both feet up and relax.
A calm train of thought steam-rolled through the mind of Zione Redington, it twisted and contorted throughout the mind, but even with the huge amount of thought upon him, he seemed normal, seemed content to just lay there and allow thought to rack him. Suddenly, a ringing voice can be heard ringing, echoing even, through the cabin, which caused Zione to sit up slightly, in a crunch-like position.
“Zione? Did you just get back?” A feminine voice said, shuffling can be heard coming from somewhere within the cabin, and soon enough… a footstep nearing where Zione sat.
“I apologize, I forgot to let you know, I must’ve left my mobile back here.” Zione said, head laid back down on the pillow positioned underneath him.
Then, the owner of the feminine voice appeared around the corner, a cheeky grin over her face.
“I thought you were back, I could tell.” She said, her dark blonde hair flowing down to just beneath chest level, a small amount of the beautiful hair covered her right eye, she moved it out of the way gently with her hand, she appeared to be very weary of her appearance in front of Zione. Her steely gaze coming out of her deep blue eyes locked right onto Zione.
“You seem to be very knowledge of me then, how did you know? You know, except for me being the only other guy living here.” He said, the cheeky grin his supposed roommate or girlfriend had mirrored now on his own face.
“Are you excited for your match at the WCF?” She asked, clearly interested in what he thought.
“Alana… excited? Not really, I’m slightly disappointed at what match I had been given, but I should be grateful.” Zione said, even though he appeared slightly crestfallen, which effectively contradicted what he just said.
“You’ve been grateful all your life, Zione. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve worked every single day… and it’ll pay off for you baby, I know it will.” The women now known to us as Alana said, a genuine smile reached up to her face, as he progressed nearer toward the seated Zione.
“Maybe you’re right, I’ll be making the most of the opportunity.” Zione said, apparently no longer crestfallen, as he saw the beautiful Alana stride her way over to him.
And when she made it to her destination, she gave off another sweet smile, which bit right into the heart of Zione, and when she leaned in… Zione mimicked the action.
But he didn’t expect her to only give him a little peck on the cheek.
But it still did what it needed to do… the left eye of Zione…? The red, demonic, evil-looking eye, the all-knowing eye the observed everything and then some?
It changed from the dark red, to the deep blue, the natural blue.
And when it did? It allowed him to relax, to not feel the doubt brewing within him, it allowed him to be free, it allowed him to shine through, the real him.
All the doubt removed, he smirked at Alana, who still had her gaze locked on him.
And right when the two leaned in…? It cut out to black, leaving everything up to imagination.
And now… for the wait.
THE END.
Then that same event would be repeated, albeit with a different strike variation. With every blow that landed, the punching bag got sent flying further and further away, each strike seemed more impactful, more accurate, with more intent behind it.
Sweat dripped down onto the blue mat underneath the feet of Zione Redington, who stood before the maroon punching bag, each fist covered over the top by a black, dull looking boxing glove. Behind Zione, a boxing instructor stood, watching him from behind. He listened carefully to the thwacking sound that emanated throughout the entire gym, while nodding to the rhythm, the pattern that had been created by the flurry that each of Zione’s fist had created.
The sweat continued to drip onto the mat, and it trickled down the face of Zione, and eventually… it soaked through the grey shirt that he wore, it had been a typical day for Zione. He had been back in the gym, the exact place he had been for the past month almost. Every day have been an almost exact replica… and exact repeat of the last, and the improvement had shown quickly. Evident by the way Zione laid into the bag with no regard for anything around him.
The pure determination that set over the face of Zione spoke louder than any scream or shout, the look that had sprawled over him remained the same whenever he had trained. The determination, the concentration, the showing of heart, will and spirit? It had all led to him being nicknamed…
“The Diamond Heart.”
He took the name on with a little reluctance. Zione had been a humble man for what had felt like an eternity to him, but at the age of sixteen, he stepped into the ring.
Not a wrestling ring, a boxing ring.
Zione Redington had begun a career in boxing, before he even thought about moving into the world of wrestling.
He wanted to perfect the game that he had known little about, and while perfection could never really be reached, he nearly reached the peak, the very top of the sport.
At least, he thought he did.
Zione moved away from boxing after competing for nearly half a decade, eventually, he learnt that he would have to become better-rounded to ever make it.
To ever make it into the world of wrestling.
“Alright, have a break, Zione.”
Zione stopped laying into the bag for a moment, he grabbed onto the punching bag from either side, and centred it, moving it back where it started. He then twisted backward, and glanced inquiringly over to the instructor, who smiled and motioned over to the resting bench, which had been placed not too far away from the punching bag.
Panting and heaving, Zione pulled up the grey shirt and moved to wipe away the sweat that had formed over him, but when he realized that the shirt had been drenched too, he dropped the idea and sighed loudly, before gratefully accepting the water bottle that the instructor offered him with an out-stretched hand.
Zione then made way over to the bench, which he squatted over before taking a seat, he leaned up against the stone wall that stood behind him, and groaned in relief. He reached over to an area off screen, and pulled a white towel into view, he then proceeded to wipe away at most of the facial area, when he placed the towel back down, the sweat no longer remained over him.
He looked upward toward the instructor, who had a bewildered and amazed look over him. The look almost seemed to be one of awe, but Zione didn't acknowledge it just yet.
“You know, I don’t understand how you keep doing it, man.”
The tone in which the instructor spoke left everything up to interpretation, Zione didn’t know whether he had meant that in a complimenting manner, or one that suggested he should take a bit of a break from trying to break the limit. Zione shrugged nonchalantly, the determined look from earlier still set over him
“I can’t slow down now, or it’d all be for nothing.”
The instructor nodded deliberately, with a borderline inquiring look beginning to make way over him.
For the instructor, he had never seen somebody with the work ethic of Zione, somebody that would try to break the limit each and every time they set foot in the gym. He knew that in the gym, Zione became a different animal. Almost like a predator hunting pray, he had the exact same aura and feeling that surrounded him.
“Don’t you ever feel like stopping?”
The question hadn’t meant to question Zione or how he felt at all, he just wanted to understand why Zione never wanted to stop, why he wanted to keep going no matter what had happened earlier in the day, no matter how hard the training had been for him.
Zione’s gaze levelled upward, a scowl had almost formed over Zione’s face, and he straightened up slightly when he began to answer the instructor.
“You may not understand why, but I’ll explain it the best I can. After all, you haven’t known me for long.” Zione said, trying to keep a neutral and level tone, even though the question had insulted him slightly.
Zione looked past the instructor with a faraway look in his eye, when he began to speak.
The story had been told many a time, Zione never got tired of telling it, since it brought him back to when he had been a child, when everything had been a chore, when it had all been a walk in the park for him. Now life had gotten much harder, but every time he could go back into the past, every time he could talk about the past?
He revelled in it.
“Back in a time where I had been but another face on the planet, I had to deal with the chore of going to school, like every other human being on the planet, and let me be the first to tell you, I didn’t like it at all.”
He spoke with a certain edge, a tone that matched the fierce light that had begun to build up in the eye of Zione.
“I performed well, I did what I needed to do. But I grew tired of it very quickly, there had been no variety, no change, everything had been a set routine. In the end, it started to get to me. I never liked it in the first place, but the fact that I had to put up with it every day? It tired me quickly, at a pace that even I didn’t expect.”
He gripped down onto the water bottle next to him, that he had placed down earlier, and took a small sip of it, he allowed the water to slide down the throat slowly, before swallowing. He smiled gratefully, before continuing.
“People suggested that maybe I should move up a year level, maybe I should be given harder work. My mind advanced far too quickly for the people that attempted to teach me. I’m not telling you that I had been smarter than them at a young age, but I moved too fast for even them to comprehend. People soon began to bring up the idea that I’m a prodigy… that I am too advanced for a regular school, that I should be pushed.”
The instructor seemed intrigued in what Zione had to speak, but he interrupted, albeit hesitantly.
“How were you that good at a young age though? Most people don’t begin to develop that young.”
Zione chuckled slightly, but the grin that emerged over him soon faded away once more.
“I never allowed age to dictate me or my ability, I never allowed a boundary to stop me, a limit to hold me back, in the end… I simply advanced forward, no matter what stood before me. Every challenge, every hurdle that I had to leap over? They stood there only for a moment, before I passed them by. Eventually, I passed everything, and everyone by, in the blink of an eye.”
He stopped for a moment, almost in an attempt to check what he had said, he levelled his gaze over toward the boxing instructor once more, and gave an apologetic look in his direction.
“I’m not rambling, am I?” Zione said, while holding up a hand apologetically.
“Not at all, but I would’ve thought a hard worker like you didn’t start off talented.” the boxing instructor replied.
“I didn’t start off talented at all, not when it came to wrestling and boxing, but I think I’ve worked my way past the “talented” people, now I’m among the best of the best.” Zione replied, while beginning to stand back up, he planted one foot to the ground, and then the other before pushing up to a vertical base. He clenched and unclenched his fists, which were still inside the boxing gloves, before making way over to the punching bag once more.
“Do you think we’ll be able to get another set in before I have to take my leave?” Zione asked, lips pursed.
The instructor stood still for a moment, a hand placed upon his chin. What Zione had said seemed to have affected him in one way or another, only when Zione spoke again, did he snap out of the little trance that had apparently left him motionless.
“Are you feeling alright, Aaron?” Zione questioned, a concerned look forming over him.
The instructor, Aaron, nearly jumped up in shock, he had fallen into a trance, after hearing what Zione had said, he realized that there had been more to the young man than had met the eye, he began to nod slowly while he spoke.
“Yeah, we can go for one more… just remember-“ he began, before being interrupted by Zione.
“Don’t overwork?” Zione said, Aaron turned to look at him with an odd look on his face, before dropping the look and simply laughing.
“You got it, Zione.” He said, both men nodded, and Zione then began to pound into the bag again, strike after strike landing off the punching bag with impact.
What Zione had gathered from the time he had spent at the gym?
He had learnt one major thing from there, and it had been…
Repetition.
Repetition led one to believe that the more they practiced, the better they’d become.
Zione looked at it in that light, and repetition taught him that through hard work and effort, he’d reach whatever pinnacle, whatever peak he’d want to reach.
Zione repeated every action, every movement with accuracy, with determination, and most of all, he stayed consistent.
Through being consistent, everything had become memory, every action, all of it had become an instinct that he had drilled into himself with hard work.
He spent time in the gym, and he did everything he thought he needed to do to make it to the top, and most importantly…
He did it every day, in a never-ending cycle that he would continue to do until the day he died.
Everything Zione did had something behind it, and although it may be cliché, he knew that if he didn’t do it all the time, it would never succeed, it wouldn’t get him anywhere.
But in-between all the hard work, Zione began to realize, began to notice… that life had changed for him.
When he had been a child, he had worked and done all he could to set up a future, to help out the people around him. But Zione had been forgetting one thing, and he still hadn’t remembered it.
Being social, having a life that didn’t link back to work, or earning money, or succeeding.
He had forgotten about the people that had meant the most to him, all in search of the one thing he had been longing for.
Achievement, succeeding. Everything that could be related to performing well. Zione, most of all… he wanted to be remembered for having an impact on the world, for being someone that could be remembered for not being limited by the imagination.
The journey had begun now, and what Zione had been searching for…
Will be uncovered, piece by piece, and gradually… he will come to find it.
The missing piece to the puzzle, will be found.
LATER ON… IN AN UNKNOWN LOCATION…
Illuminating in the dim room, the lamp sat alone in the corner, leaving but the smallest bright spot in the room filled with dark. In the other corner of the room, a door can be seen swinging open, and following right through the doorway, Zione Redington. He looked around the room for a moment, before placing a palm onto the door, shoving it shut, and walking into the centre of the barely illuminated room, where he sat down on the lone, solitary chair in the middle of the room.
“The WCF must be quite the organization indeed. With talent brewing in every corner, men and women attempting to prove their worth each and every day, I’ve grown tired of it, really.
“Look at what I must contend with on the next Slam, I’m participating in a Battle Royale.
“No, I didn’t just make an error, I’m competing in a Battle… Royale.
“Why must I be clustered into a pack that can’t contend with me, even on their best day? I have no idea, but management would be glad to tell you why.
“I’ve been stereotyped, I’ve been thrown into a pit, and now I have to worry about proving I can actually dominate in a federation riddled by filler that think they’re somehow special, somehow important.
“Unfortunately for me, I am the man who must have to deal with all the filler that have been ruining the WCF for a long, long time.
“A group of new people all pitted against each other, in what will virtually be a cluster, a contest judged mainly by the ability of who can get lucky enough to throw other people out of the ring.
“I find it pitiful, considering it’ll take no real skill or talent to win in a matched filled with people who simply can’t get the job done. Judging by who I must deal with on Slam, I will be steam-rolling through everyone, and continuing on my journey up the card.
“Sadly enough, everyone that’ll be participating in the Battle Royale will be put to the slaughter, they will be sacrificed. But I can let you know right now, I’m not going to be the one being sacrificed. Each and every one of them will fall before me, whether it be direct or indirect, I will be the one proving that I am here to make an impact, that I am here to dominate the competition.
“Pitting me against the rest? It’s going to be a slaughter, a contest that’ll only be remembered due to the complete domination, the complete destruction that had been created by one man, and one man only… Zione Redington.
“Just look at who I’m competing against.
“Howard Black, how original can you get? Coming up with a name that must be taken my at least a million other people in the whole wide world. Howard Black even had the ignorance to challenge my on twitter, where he came up with playground insult after playground insult in an attempt to somehow get under my skin. Let me tell you right now, you didn’t get under anything, all you’ve done is certify the fact that you’ll be the first one getting thrown out of the ring. That you’ll be the first one to go.
“I don’t mind being active on the internet, but at least what I’ve said can be said to have a little bit of weight behind it, every word typed by Howard Black can only be said to show just how he very well may be the epitome of stupidity. The man who will only be acknowledged for the amount of idiocy he can show. I must admit, even I could only sit down and look on in complete and utter shock, when most people spray out something stupid in my direction, most of the time I just efficiently cut them down, bit by bit, piece by piece… but Mister Black? You were too poor to deal with. You fooled me once with your ignorant little statement, then the very next time out, you showcased just why you’ll never get anywhere in your career here, with your grade-school insult that reminded me of an insult that a depressed little child would spout out.
“Honestly, you’re just too pitiful to deal with. But really, I should be moving on. I wouldn’t want to go on too long.
“The amount of time I’ve spoken about Howard Black? It’s already exceeding how long he’ll last in our little Battle Royale, thus I move on to the next people stepping forward, in a futile attempt to somehow stop me from winning.
“I’ll go on and speak about Florian Stark, who may provide to be at least a tad more interested than the last man I had to talk about.
“Right, Florian Stark. I’ve heard nothing of you, and I don’t think I would really enjoy hearing anything from you. Apparently you’ve been through a bit of wrestling, but it won’t really amount to much for you in the end.
“You may be technically sound, but I’ll be a better wrestler than you, you may be able to strike, but I’ll be a better striker than you, you may be quick, I’ll be quicker, you may be strong, but I’m stronger. In every way imaginable, I simply out-do you, even if you may think differently, Florian.
“I don’t care about age, but at the ripe age of eighteen I am all-knowing of the fact that your lack of inexperience will come to haunt you, I too am not the most experienced of men here at the WCF, but I can already tell that you can’t keep your head straight, even when you try to remain calm.
“But it’ll be quite sad indeed, how will the young Florian ever recover after facing a shocking defeat served right to him by Zione Redington? We won’t know until next week, but I will be quite intrigued, quite interested to watch how you proceed to try and convince everyone you will somehow be the victor of our little match-up.
“Who would be next on the list? Chris Moody.
“I don’t know why you’d go around being called “The Nightmare”, to be honest. I don’t even know if you were thinking when you decided to be branded with that nickname. But judging by your nickname, I’ll go on to make a quick assumption or two.
“One, you’re either a pitiful wrestler, which will be why you’re called “The Nightmare”, since you’re that bad in the ring that you make the worst of the worst look good.
“Or two, you’re another man trying to make a living out of being dark, scary and apparently “spooky”. What can I tell you about that? You’re another generic man who will attempt to wear a suit, or a mask that’ll already be worn out. Much like your career here, even though you haven’t been around for long, you’ve already over-stayed your welcome, you’ve already showed just why you won’t ever amount to anything more than another generic bottom-feeder who had a dream, a dream to make it to the top.
“Then again, why would someone like you dream to reach the top, when you can barely reach the first rung on a tall… tall ladder?
“Speaking of generic, why don’t we speak of “The Soldier”, Alex Ruler?
“Your name may create a bit of pandemonium, a bit of confusion. I’m already finding a fatal flaw within you.
“Your last name? Ruler. Your nickname? Soldier. How do they relate? You’re a soldier in the field, but you’re a Ruler? I apologize if I’m getting it all wrong, really I do, but what you’ve created here can only be called contradictory.
“The only excitement you’ll be creating? The moment you get thrown over the top rope, and the crowd will be cheering. Hey, maybe if you last longer than a minute, I’ll be kind enough to throw you hard enough that you do a flip, that’ll really get the crowd going, won’t it?
“Since you won’t be doing anything to get the crowd excited on your own, I should try and help you out along the way, it would only be right, since I’ll be carrying the match from start to end.
“Cyanide, the man who couldn’t be. Why do I call you that? Mainly your outfit, really. If you can’t be yourself, then who can you expect to be? You’re out here wearing face paint, which in itself may be even more generic than pretending to be a “Nightmare”. Honestly, it’s over-done, just like the rest of your gimmick and attire. If I had to be frank, I’d actually call you over-cooked, you’re out of your depth, my friend. You’ve been thrown into the deep end, and you won’t be lasting long enough to make it out, you won’t get a chance to breathe, I won’t allow you to.
“And here we have it, the final participant in the match, and maybe most importantly, a women.
“Why do I mention her gender? Mainly due to it being the only real reason she may be lucky enough to be remembered after our match, since she’ll be getting thrown out in quick-time, just like every other sad participant who may be unlucky enough to get in my path.
“What more can I tell you? I definitely won’t enjoy harming a women, I may even hold back a slight amount, if you’re lucky enough, I will. Since at my best, at my one-hundred percent, none of you can compare.
“If I wanted it to be fair, I’d bring in my “C-Game”, just to keep it fair against all of your “A-Game” that you may try and bring to the table. That’s just it, me attempting to be mediocre can out-do all of you trying to be great, it’s just the way it’ll work.
“Natural talent mixed with hard-work, all of it will pay off in the end, all of it will culminate into the moment where I shock the world.
“Wait, I apologize. I won’t be shocking the world at all, it’ll be quite the opposite, in fact.
“I won’t be shocking anyone, there won’t be any surprises. The match will go exactly the way we all know it will, a Zione Redington victory, and if you’re all lucky enough, you’ll last longer than a minute.
“My athletic ability, my striking, my technical wrestling, it’s all simply too good for whatever you lot may bring to the table. It’s a sad truth, but a real one that you all must accept sooner or later, you’ll be brought back down into reality, whether you want to be brought back down or not.
“You’re all riding on an emotional high right now, and I’m about shoot you down. If you really think about it, I’m not harming you at all, I’m helping you, I’m helping you all realize just how pathetic you really are.
“You may all think that you’re something that you’re not, and I don’t want to have to go around listening to you blab on about crap that won’t amount to anything except complete and total embarrassment for you.
“You see, when you step into that ring, you’ll first thing you may have a shot, then it’ll all be down to fate, your performance will be dictated by luck, really. Sadly enough, Mister Black won’t be lasting very long at all, since I’ve decided his ignorance must be punished, due to his lack of logic and common thinking, I will take it upon myself to remove him, but after that… it’s all down to luck.
“That’s all the audience should tune in for, they should start betting, actually. Start betting on who will be lucky enough to be called the “Runner-Up” in the little Battle Royale that management thought would be a good idea to run.
“After I’m through, they won’t think putting a man of my calibre in with a bunch of insolent fools will be a good idea, they’ll be sure to stray far away from ever repeating their mistake.
“Just remember, it’s just bad luck you’ve all been put up against an incredible talent in your debut match, it’s all just bad luck. Maybe the next time you step out, you’ll actually be facing one of each other one on one, and maybe then you’ll have a chance at racking up what very well could be your only shining moment in the WCF.
“But until then, you’ll all have to worry about dealing with “The Diamond Heart”, the man who won’t hide behind a façade of lies and fake gimmicks, a man who will take it upon himself to do everything he can to step up to the challenge.
“Although I know the challenge won’t be coming around this week, for now, I’ll be able to enjoy a little break, I’ll be able to rest easy knowing who I’m coming up against.
“But when a real challenge may be brought to me, I’ll be sure to pass the test. The test that each and every one of you in this Battle Royale will FAIL come Slam.
“It’s just the way it’s going to be.
“I’m destined to succeed, to reach the pinnacle, the peak, the top of the mountain.
“Meanwhile, you’re all destined to linger at the bottom, forever and always.
“It’s going to be like that for the rest of your career here, and it’ll eat at you like a fox chewing into the stomach of a young, Spartan warrior.
“You may try and be brave, you may try and hide your emotion, but after we’re done, all your emotion will come flooding out.
“You’ll all be broken and limp, and I’ll still be standing.
“I am Zione Redington, the shining warrior in amidst the dark that decided to plague the WCF, the bright light that’ll emerge to dominate everyone and everything.
“I am The Diamond Heart, the ruler amongst men, and the man that’ll be sure to hand you defeat on Sunday.
“Enjoy whatever remaining time you have left, it’s all coming to an end on Slam.”
The image on screen can slowly be seen fading away… and then cutting over to a different area. A small cabin just on the edge of a huge forest, in the far distance, a huge mountain can be viewed, towering over everything in sight. Another cut on the screen, and we’re within the cabin, and we can now see Zione Redington sitting down upon a long and dark couch, which allowed him to kick both feet up and relax.
A calm train of thought steam-rolled through the mind of Zione Redington, it twisted and contorted throughout the mind, but even with the huge amount of thought upon him, he seemed normal, seemed content to just lay there and allow thought to rack him. Suddenly, a ringing voice can be heard ringing, echoing even, through the cabin, which caused Zione to sit up slightly, in a crunch-like position.
“Zione? Did you just get back?” A feminine voice said, shuffling can be heard coming from somewhere within the cabin, and soon enough… a footstep nearing where Zione sat.
“I apologize, I forgot to let you know, I must’ve left my mobile back here.” Zione said, head laid back down on the pillow positioned underneath him.
Then, the owner of the feminine voice appeared around the corner, a cheeky grin over her face.
“I thought you were back, I could tell.” She said, her dark blonde hair flowing down to just beneath chest level, a small amount of the beautiful hair covered her right eye, she moved it out of the way gently with her hand, she appeared to be very weary of her appearance in front of Zione. Her steely gaze coming out of her deep blue eyes locked right onto Zione.
“You seem to be very knowledge of me then, how did you know? You know, except for me being the only other guy living here.” He said, the cheeky grin his supposed roommate or girlfriend had mirrored now on his own face.
“Are you excited for your match at the WCF?” She asked, clearly interested in what he thought.
“Alana… excited? Not really, I’m slightly disappointed at what match I had been given, but I should be grateful.” Zione said, even though he appeared slightly crestfallen, which effectively contradicted what he just said.
“You’ve been grateful all your life, Zione. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve worked every single day… and it’ll pay off for you baby, I know it will.” The women now known to us as Alana said, a genuine smile reached up to her face, as he progressed nearer toward the seated Zione.
“Maybe you’re right, I’ll be making the most of the opportunity.” Zione said, apparently no longer crestfallen, as he saw the beautiful Alana stride her way over to him.
And when she made it to her destination, she gave off another sweet smile, which bit right into the heart of Zione, and when she leaned in… Zione mimicked the action.
But he didn’t expect her to only give him a little peck on the cheek.
But it still did what it needed to do… the left eye of Zione…? The red, demonic, evil-looking eye, the all-knowing eye the observed everything and then some?
It changed from the dark red, to the deep blue, the natural blue.
And when it did? It allowed him to relax, to not feel the doubt brewing within him, it allowed him to be free, it allowed him to shine through, the real him.
All the doubt removed, he smirked at Alana, who still had her gaze locked on him.
And right when the two leaned in…? It cut out to black, leaving everything up to imagination.
And now… for the wait.
THE END.