Post by BrainScratch on Jun 4, 2019 4:23:51 GMT -5
We view the finish of Isaiah Zepp's message to Señor Vinnie before their Winner Take All contest at Anarchy 48. Isaiah is clenching his thumb between his index and middle fingers. Immediately before this point, he spoke of an oncoming oblivion.
Isaiah: "And when it's over, there will be one man holding it ALL."
Zepp snaps his fingers, but instead of the scene fading away, it glitches and time fast-forwards. Within a jumble of pixels, we can see Isaiah holding the Legacy Title, then Vinnie holding the Anarchy Title. Moments of their epic clash blur by, until we see a shot of a weary Isaiah raising his arms, which freezes in place.
With the mechanical sound of a clicking camera, that shot becomes a Polaroid photograph and falls to the bottom of the screen, tilting into the left corner. What's left behind is a pulsating static that slowly clears to show the smiling visage of the new dual champion, Isaiah Zepp. Both belts rest on his shoulders, though the faceplates are pointed behind him.
Isaiah: "Congratulations, people of the Riot Star! We have survived oblivion! This time, at least... Are we all here? Did anyone get lost in the jump? Fret not, and follow the welcoming neon pink sign that is the XHF Network. Let's make ourselves comfy and try to enjoy this Future. I call the top bunk. It took hell AND high water, but here I stand, now with two of these precious trophies. Vinnie, I can believe it that you've got multiple personalities rattling in your head, because I feel like I fought them all at once. You really are the true awoken, and if I'm lucky, all these damned bruises will heal by the time the bell rings for the rematch."
Click. Another Polaroid falls, almost covering the first. The feed switches to Zepp's basement, as he and his brothers are constructing a wooden platform while their sister Cecelia paints a colorful banner.
Isaiah: "Of course, like any other step toward the Future, we have to watch out for the Past. There's always another oblivion looming, and there are many whispers and rumors floating as Anarchy nears its half-centennial. Oh it's a NEW day, yes it is, but not the kind I hoped for. Our dearest Esmeralda has dug up one Johnny Stylez - with a Z - from New Edge Wrestling, a skeleton of RSW's history, and a small sliver of own. My time in NEW was brief. I still remember the promises. The luxuries. The competition. How peculiar it was when I flew to South America on my own dime to find an empty stadium."
Click, and this photo falls to the right. We switch now to a Pride festival in downtown San Diego. A rainbow banner hangs above a wooden dunk tank, as Isaiah stands to the side wearing a green velvet suit. His giant younger brother Edward sits nervously above the tank wearing possibly the world's largest pair of arm floaties. The youngest brother Ike hands out baseballs while Cecelia acquires the dollar bills for the donation box.
Isaiah: "But that wasn't your fault, Johnny. I don't even recall that you were there at the time. Your name got dropped often, though, along with the likes of Hunter Valentyne. You were close comrades, and that's all I've ever needed to know about YOU. I've been craving another chance to kick the filthy lips off the face of that scumbag, but I don't assume I'll ever get the chance. My only option is to kick your teeth hard enough that maybe he feels it in his groin. Then I'll resume my post as the crypt keeper for whichever zombies decide to wander out of their graves next. I may not have boomstick, but I've got all I need to be groovy. So come one! Come all!"
Click, as Isaiah is gesturing like a carnival barker and Edward has plummeted into the water. We switch to Flint, Michigan. Isaiah is now wearing his black hooded sweatshirt and handing out bottles of water to townsfolk. Ed is seated on the ground installing a water filtration pump and trying to explain how to maintain it in his own wordless way.
Isaiah: "Because RSW's own history is more dangerous than the interconnected promotions that birthed it. I was not here at the chaotic beginning, but I was always observing what Rob Riot had created. The most curious device was the Three Peaks system. The basic gist said that if you won and defended the lowest belt, you got a shot at the second belt, and winning that gave you a chance at the World title. Much like a half-baked Cyrus lyric, that was the climb. It was brilliant. Simultaneously keeping everyone occupied, and putting butts in seats, while RSW's various overlords reaped the profits. All they did was turn the wheel and everyone followed. My biggest question, one thing that played a part in my arrival: What would happen if someone locked that wheel in place?"
Click. Isaiah is now alone in Spain, overlooking Barcelona from a lavish hotel room. He's wearing white silk pajamas and sips a white drink from a wine glass that one may think was alcoholic but is only an authentic horchata.
Isaiah: "The Peaks were ended shortly after my debut, so it became an absent thought... Until a fellow by the name of Lex Collins came around. He was so close to it this year. I was honestly rooting for Lex to combine all the titles, up to the day that I wrested one from his deathgrip. Now I'm dealt the same hand, one lucky draw away from total conquest. The old system dictated that the lesser belts were relinquished, but this is my chance to dangle them in front of all your greedy eyes and say NO! Because none of you deserve the ego trip. Not Mitchell and his machinations. Not D and his psychopathic obsession. Not any of you."
We stay in the hotel, but the camera clicks in rapid succession, as Polaroids fall of Isaiah's recent fallen opponents. The bottom of the screen is covered now.
Isaiah: "The belts themselves mean nothing, but they represent my own Three Peaks; killing the Past to protect the Now to save the Future. So Johnny Stylez with a Z, there's no one that can beat Isaiah Zepp with a Z right Now. Not until I see this thing through. What oh what might happen?! Will we face another oblivion?! Will it be the end of me?! Can I realize all my goals?"
More clicks, this time of rebuilt homeless shelters, water pipes, and happy Isaiah fans of all races and preferences, to cover all but the center of the screen.
Isaiah: "The anticipation is killing me."
With a rye smile straight out of the Gene Wilder playbook, Isaiah takes an anticlimactic sip of horchata. Click.
Isaiah: "And when it's over, there will be one man holding it ALL."
Zepp snaps his fingers, but instead of the scene fading away, it glitches and time fast-forwards. Within a jumble of pixels, we can see Isaiah holding the Legacy Title, then Vinnie holding the Anarchy Title. Moments of their epic clash blur by, until we see a shot of a weary Isaiah raising his arms, which freezes in place.
With the mechanical sound of a clicking camera, that shot becomes a Polaroid photograph and falls to the bottom of the screen, tilting into the left corner. What's left behind is a pulsating static that slowly clears to show the smiling visage of the new dual champion, Isaiah Zepp. Both belts rest on his shoulders, though the faceplates are pointed behind him.
Isaiah: "Congratulations, people of the Riot Star! We have survived oblivion! This time, at least... Are we all here? Did anyone get lost in the jump? Fret not, and follow the welcoming neon pink sign that is the XHF Network. Let's make ourselves comfy and try to enjoy this Future. I call the top bunk. It took hell AND high water, but here I stand, now with two of these precious trophies. Vinnie, I can believe it that you've got multiple personalities rattling in your head, because I feel like I fought them all at once. You really are the true awoken, and if I'm lucky, all these damned bruises will heal by the time the bell rings for the rematch."
Click. Another Polaroid falls, almost covering the first. The feed switches to Zepp's basement, as he and his brothers are constructing a wooden platform while their sister Cecelia paints a colorful banner.
Isaiah: "Of course, like any other step toward the Future, we have to watch out for the Past. There's always another oblivion looming, and there are many whispers and rumors floating as Anarchy nears its half-centennial. Oh it's a NEW day, yes it is, but not the kind I hoped for. Our dearest Esmeralda has dug up one Johnny Stylez - with a Z - from New Edge Wrestling, a skeleton of RSW's history, and a small sliver of own. My time in NEW was brief. I still remember the promises. The luxuries. The competition. How peculiar it was when I flew to South America on my own dime to find an empty stadium."
Click, and this photo falls to the right. We switch now to a Pride festival in downtown San Diego. A rainbow banner hangs above a wooden dunk tank, as Isaiah stands to the side wearing a green velvet suit. His giant younger brother Edward sits nervously above the tank wearing possibly the world's largest pair of arm floaties. The youngest brother Ike hands out baseballs while Cecelia acquires the dollar bills for the donation box.
Isaiah: "But that wasn't your fault, Johnny. I don't even recall that you were there at the time. Your name got dropped often, though, along with the likes of Hunter Valentyne. You were close comrades, and that's all I've ever needed to know about YOU. I've been craving another chance to kick the filthy lips off the face of that scumbag, but I don't assume I'll ever get the chance. My only option is to kick your teeth hard enough that maybe he feels it in his groin. Then I'll resume my post as the crypt keeper for whichever zombies decide to wander out of their graves next. I may not have boomstick, but I've got all I need to be groovy. So come one! Come all!"
Click, as Isaiah is gesturing like a carnival barker and Edward has plummeted into the water. We switch to Flint, Michigan. Isaiah is now wearing his black hooded sweatshirt and handing out bottles of water to townsfolk. Ed is seated on the ground installing a water filtration pump and trying to explain how to maintain it in his own wordless way.
Isaiah: "Because RSW's own history is more dangerous than the interconnected promotions that birthed it. I was not here at the chaotic beginning, but I was always observing what Rob Riot had created. The most curious device was the Three Peaks system. The basic gist said that if you won and defended the lowest belt, you got a shot at the second belt, and winning that gave you a chance at the World title. Much like a half-baked Cyrus lyric, that was the climb. It was brilliant. Simultaneously keeping everyone occupied, and putting butts in seats, while RSW's various overlords reaped the profits. All they did was turn the wheel and everyone followed. My biggest question, one thing that played a part in my arrival: What would happen if someone locked that wheel in place?"
Click. Isaiah is now alone in Spain, overlooking Barcelona from a lavish hotel room. He's wearing white silk pajamas and sips a white drink from a wine glass that one may think was alcoholic but is only an authentic horchata.
Isaiah: "The Peaks were ended shortly after my debut, so it became an absent thought... Until a fellow by the name of Lex Collins came around. He was so close to it this year. I was honestly rooting for Lex to combine all the titles, up to the day that I wrested one from his deathgrip. Now I'm dealt the same hand, one lucky draw away from total conquest. The old system dictated that the lesser belts were relinquished, but this is my chance to dangle them in front of all your greedy eyes and say NO! Because none of you deserve the ego trip. Not Mitchell and his machinations. Not D and his psychopathic obsession. Not any of you."
We stay in the hotel, but the camera clicks in rapid succession, as Polaroids fall of Isaiah's recent fallen opponents. The bottom of the screen is covered now.
Isaiah: "The belts themselves mean nothing, but they represent my own Three Peaks; killing the Past to protect the Now to save the Future. So Johnny Stylez with a Z, there's no one that can beat Isaiah Zepp with a Z right Now. Not until I see this thing through. What oh what might happen?! Will we face another oblivion?! Will it be the end of me?! Can I realize all my goals?"
More clicks, this time of rebuilt homeless shelters, water pipes, and happy Isaiah fans of all races and preferences, to cover all but the center of the screen.
Isaiah: "The anticipation is killing me."
With a rye smile straight out of the Gene Wilder playbook, Isaiah takes an anticlimactic sip of horchata. Click.
