Setting Sail
Jul 30, 2021 1:09:05 GMT -5
Roy "The Sorrow" Harlowe (NJC), robriot, and 1 more like this
Post by BrainScratch on Jul 30, 2021 1:09:05 GMT -5
- June -
It had been less than twelve hours since Edward Zepp accepted an invitation to join the Galactic Sex Pirates in their hostile occupation of Northern Pro Wrestling, and he's sound asleep - until a wailing of instruments and voices blares into his ear. The seven-footer springs out of bed to see his older brother Isaiah smiling like a madman.
"Do you like the song?! One of The Mars Volta's finest!" Isaiah has always entered the wrestling ring to songs by post-hardcore band At The Drive-In, which has mostly the same band members as the avant-garde Mars Volta, and he's envisioned that Edward's big debut would include an epic song. Ed however is nonplussed, and his annoyance is steeped in every syllable of his deep voice.
"What Time Is It? The Sun Is Still Down."
"It's already late to start training for the big time," Isaiah states ominously. He leads Edward through the corridors of their converted funeral parlor. What was once the embalming chamber where their father plied his trade, is now a weight room in the basement. Isaiah racks a load of plates onto a bench press and motions to them like a gameshow model, and Ed sleepily sits down. Isaiah's song choice is still blasting as Ed easily hefts the bar up and down from his chest. After Ed finishes a set, Isaiah continues to prattle about the music as he adds more weight. "You know the song, right? It's titled Goliath, from the Bedlam album. Very fitting!" Ed sighs and continues the exercise, pumping the iron set by set, even when Isaiah exhausts the supply of weight for the bar.
The song, elapsing seven minutes, repeats over and over as Ed switches to lat pulldowns, machine flies, and an incline press. MeanwhileIsaiah has meandered to the other side, containing a billiard table. Isaiah practices trick shots and recites some of the nonsensical lyrics. "Your closet is bulging, white marrow withholdin'...". For Isaiah the abstract nature is a positive, but Edward is beyond irritated. Ed has always followed his brother's lead knowing success is imminent, but Isaiah can be interminable.
The workout moves to the roof. Isaiah has fastened a ringrope between two pillars of the house, and Edward shoots him an incredulous look before stepping cautiously onto the cheap cable; gingerly as one can while supporting 300 pounds. Ed grits his teeth and extends his arms for balance as the sun begins to creep to the sky. Goliath is still playing from Isaiah's phone. "I really like this part, Ed. Never heard a man speak like this man before. It's absolutely perfect for you!"
"Enough About Your Song!"
Ed's voice echoes across the streets of San Diego. Isaiah Zepp narrows his eyes at his little brother, stops the music, and suddenly he's the silent one. He throws the phone at Edward, who juggles it and nearly plummets to the pavement below. Isaiah snaps back with a dagger of sarcasm, "Go ahead then, what's your pick?" Ed shakes his head no, why would he think about that while suspended three stories in the air? "No, think! You have to make a first impression and strike some kind of emotion into people. What do you want them to feel?" Ed snorts in frustration from this pop quiz, but eventually with wobbly legs he searches for his song. Blood Moon by the independent Californian duo Dance With The Dead. Isaiah strokes his chin as he listens and deciphers it. The lack of lyrics perturbs him. "So... an instrumental homage to 80s slasher music. Interesting. Kitsch, even." Isaiah evidently finds himself stomping to the anthem-like beat, despite his attempt to denounce it. "Okay fine, it's good! I suppose that... you will, you will, rock them, Edward."
Ed throws the phone back to Isaiah, who responds by chucking a heavy medicine ball at him. "Opponent attacking, think fast!" Ed snags it with one of his giant palms and throws it downward in anger. Before the ball hits concrete, it bounces harmlessly into a mesh net that was camouflaged as the same color of the ground. Isaiah cackles with delight. "Hah! You think I'd risk killing you in training?! Oh my brother..." Edward stalks back across the rope and feigns a wholesome brotherly hug, before getting some revenge with a brotherly punch to the gut.
- July -
Another early morning, another tough workout. Edward Zepp has increased his muscle and raised his cardio in these last few weeks, and he's ready for NPW, but there are a few loose ends. Standing at his side in the kitchen is the youngest of his siblings, Ike Zepp. Edward cuts a shank of meat finely with a long blade, then hands the knife to Ike. The teen nearly cuts off his own thumb before Ed takes the cutlery to demonstrate again. Behind them is the munching of popcorn and sardonic laugh of the solitary Zepp sister Cecelia.
Ike lashes out at her. "Yo shut up Ceecee! I bet you can't do it!"
"I will end up doing it after you fail!" she chides as she tosses a popcorn into her mouth.
Ed waves them down, then directs Ike to the backyard. Edward taps the meat tray and a half-dozen dogs, pitbull mixes, poke their heads out of makeshift doghouses. They beeline to their master but halt as Ed holds the food. One by one they receive a slice of meat and wolf it down. Now the tray is passed to Ike, who nervously taps on it. He holds up a cut with a shaky hand, and the dogs tackle him to the ground.
"Oh god they're gonna kill me!" Ike writhes on the ground as the pitbulls merely steal the food and lick his face a bit. Ed shakes his head.
Cecelia chimes in from the door, "Don't worry Eddie, I'll keep the dogs fed."
Back inside, Edward tries to show Ike how to prune his bonsai trees. One must be cautious but decisive. He makes a few snips to create symmetry, but upon handing the shears to Ike, the youngest Zepp butchers a few branches. Ceecee munches on another kernel, loudly. "Your Feng Shui sucks. I'll try to fix it for you, Ed."
"Get the hell outta here with your purple hair and your bitchy... bitchness! Bitch!" Ike continues to stammer, and she walks away faking defeat.
Cecelia wanders into the livingroom as Isaiah is preparing a document. She offers popcorn as she eavesdrops Ed's NPR contract. "So you're really sending Eddie up to Canada with a bunch of guys you used to fight? Don't you still hate them?"
"Indeed, yes!" Isaiah chortles.
"Then how can you trust them with Ed?"
Isaiah smiles coyly. "I don't trust them at all. If I had signed, it'd be a matter of time before we killed each other. Riot, Parsons, we'd get in each other's way. But Edward... Well, if they're ever brazen enough to try him, they'll regret it."
"What do you mean?" asks the inquisitive sister.
"Edward is better than all of them. Probably better than me. He's not fueled by greed, or pride. He can't be swayed by their usual shenanigans. He just has to unlock that potential. This excursion will bring it out... Hopefully Riot's band of merry men and these Northern fellows aren't destroyed in the afterwave. But, c'est la vie..."
"C'est la vie?!"
"I'm sure they'll be fine!" Isaiah mulls over that thought. "That's what insurance is for."
Edward Zepp enters the room with his bags packed, flanked by an Ike with a barely-alive bonsai. Like most of the interactions with their tallest brother, the Zepps share a silent but heartfelt goodbye. This farewell is broken up by a loud engine. Edward opens his front door to see a giant macktruck limousine, spray painted with the words PARSONS GALATIC PIMPMOBILE, and Ed takes one step toward it and a brand new life.
It had been less than twelve hours since Edward Zepp accepted an invitation to join the Galactic Sex Pirates in their hostile occupation of Northern Pro Wrestling, and he's sound asleep - until a wailing of instruments and voices blares into his ear. The seven-footer springs out of bed to see his older brother Isaiah smiling like a madman.
"Do you like the song?! One of The Mars Volta's finest!" Isaiah has always entered the wrestling ring to songs by post-hardcore band At The Drive-In, which has mostly the same band members as the avant-garde Mars Volta, and he's envisioned that Edward's big debut would include an epic song. Ed however is nonplussed, and his annoyance is steeped in every syllable of his deep voice.
"What Time Is It? The Sun Is Still Down."
"It's already late to start training for the big time," Isaiah states ominously. He leads Edward through the corridors of their converted funeral parlor. What was once the embalming chamber where their father plied his trade, is now a weight room in the basement. Isaiah racks a load of plates onto a bench press and motions to them like a gameshow model, and Ed sleepily sits down. Isaiah's song choice is still blasting as Ed easily hefts the bar up and down from his chest. After Ed finishes a set, Isaiah continues to prattle about the music as he adds more weight. "You know the song, right? It's titled Goliath, from the Bedlam album. Very fitting!" Ed sighs and continues the exercise, pumping the iron set by set, even when Isaiah exhausts the supply of weight for the bar.
The song, elapsing seven minutes, repeats over and over as Ed switches to lat pulldowns, machine flies, and an incline press. MeanwhileIsaiah has meandered to the other side, containing a billiard table. Isaiah practices trick shots and recites some of the nonsensical lyrics. "Your closet is bulging, white marrow withholdin'...". For Isaiah the abstract nature is a positive, but Edward is beyond irritated. Ed has always followed his brother's lead knowing success is imminent, but Isaiah can be interminable.
The workout moves to the roof. Isaiah has fastened a ringrope between two pillars of the house, and Edward shoots him an incredulous look before stepping cautiously onto the cheap cable; gingerly as one can while supporting 300 pounds. Ed grits his teeth and extends his arms for balance as the sun begins to creep to the sky. Goliath is still playing from Isaiah's phone. "I really like this part, Ed. Never heard a man speak like this man before. It's absolutely perfect for you!"
"Enough About Your Song!"
Ed's voice echoes across the streets of San Diego. Isaiah Zepp narrows his eyes at his little brother, stops the music, and suddenly he's the silent one. He throws the phone at Edward, who juggles it and nearly plummets to the pavement below. Isaiah snaps back with a dagger of sarcasm, "Go ahead then, what's your pick?" Ed shakes his head no, why would he think about that while suspended three stories in the air? "No, think! You have to make a first impression and strike some kind of emotion into people. What do you want them to feel?" Ed snorts in frustration from this pop quiz, but eventually with wobbly legs he searches for his song. Blood Moon by the independent Californian duo Dance With The Dead. Isaiah strokes his chin as he listens and deciphers it. The lack of lyrics perturbs him. "So... an instrumental homage to 80s slasher music. Interesting. Kitsch, even." Isaiah evidently finds himself stomping to the anthem-like beat, despite his attempt to denounce it. "Okay fine, it's good! I suppose that... you will, you will, rock them, Edward."
Ed throws the phone back to Isaiah, who responds by chucking a heavy medicine ball at him. "Opponent attacking, think fast!" Ed snags it with one of his giant palms and throws it downward in anger. Before the ball hits concrete, it bounces harmlessly into a mesh net that was camouflaged as the same color of the ground. Isaiah cackles with delight. "Hah! You think I'd risk killing you in training?! Oh my brother..." Edward stalks back across the rope and feigns a wholesome brotherly hug, before getting some revenge with a brotherly punch to the gut.
- July -
Another early morning, another tough workout. Edward Zepp has increased his muscle and raised his cardio in these last few weeks, and he's ready for NPW, but there are a few loose ends. Standing at his side in the kitchen is the youngest of his siblings, Ike Zepp. Edward cuts a shank of meat finely with a long blade, then hands the knife to Ike. The teen nearly cuts off his own thumb before Ed takes the cutlery to demonstrate again. Behind them is the munching of popcorn and sardonic laugh of the solitary Zepp sister Cecelia.
Ike lashes out at her. "Yo shut up Ceecee! I bet you can't do it!"
"I will end up doing it after you fail!" she chides as she tosses a popcorn into her mouth.
Ed waves them down, then directs Ike to the backyard. Edward taps the meat tray and a half-dozen dogs, pitbull mixes, poke their heads out of makeshift doghouses. They beeline to their master but halt as Ed holds the food. One by one they receive a slice of meat and wolf it down. Now the tray is passed to Ike, who nervously taps on it. He holds up a cut with a shaky hand, and the dogs tackle him to the ground.
"Oh god they're gonna kill me!" Ike writhes on the ground as the pitbulls merely steal the food and lick his face a bit. Ed shakes his head.
Cecelia chimes in from the door, "Don't worry Eddie, I'll keep the dogs fed."
Back inside, Edward tries to show Ike how to prune his bonsai trees. One must be cautious but decisive. He makes a few snips to create symmetry, but upon handing the shears to Ike, the youngest Zepp butchers a few branches. Ceecee munches on another kernel, loudly. "Your Feng Shui sucks. I'll try to fix it for you, Ed."
"Get the hell outta here with your purple hair and your bitchy... bitchness! Bitch!" Ike continues to stammer, and she walks away faking defeat.
Cecelia wanders into the livingroom as Isaiah is preparing a document. She offers popcorn as she eavesdrops Ed's NPR contract. "So you're really sending Eddie up to Canada with a bunch of guys you used to fight? Don't you still hate them?"
"Indeed, yes!" Isaiah chortles.
"Then how can you trust them with Ed?"
Isaiah smiles coyly. "I don't trust them at all. If I had signed, it'd be a matter of time before we killed each other. Riot, Parsons, we'd get in each other's way. But Edward... Well, if they're ever brazen enough to try him, they'll regret it."
"What do you mean?" asks the inquisitive sister.
"Edward is better than all of them. Probably better than me. He's not fueled by greed, or pride. He can't be swayed by their usual shenanigans. He just has to unlock that potential. This excursion will bring it out... Hopefully Riot's band of merry men and these Northern fellows aren't destroyed in the afterwave. But, c'est la vie..."
"C'est la vie?!"
"I'm sure they'll be fine!" Isaiah mulls over that thought. "That's what insurance is for."
Edward Zepp enters the room with his bags packed, flanked by an Ike with a barely-alive bonsai. Like most of the interactions with their tallest brother, the Zepps share a silent but heartfelt goodbye. This farewell is broken up by a loud engine. Edward opens his front door to see a giant macktruck limousine, spray painted with the words PARSONS GALATIC PIMPMOBILE, and Ed takes one step toward it and a brand new life.