Zephyr Quinn Vs. Zane King Vs. Jonathan Willis

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Webmistress Barbie
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Zephyr Quinn Vs. Zane King Vs. Jonathan Willis Jul 8, 2020 18:22:37 GMT -5

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Post by Webmistress Barbie on Jul 8, 2020 18:22:37 GMT -5

Triple Threat Match!
Standard Rules!

1 RP Limit
4000 Word Limit

Please check your word count
Via: www.wordcountertool.com/

Deadline: Sunday, July 19th, 2020 at 11:59pm Eastern

Good Luck!

Jon Willis Chaos Wrestlers I Am Relentless Posts: 54	Zephyr Quinn Vs. Zane King Vs. Jonathan Willis Jul 12, 2020 12:37:16 GMT -5 The Madness Menagerie, mystifyingoracle, and 2 more like this Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Jon Willis on Jul 12, 2020 12:37:16 GMT -5 This is Gospel
	18

Lab Rat King
Chaos Wrestlers

Pretty big, for a rat

Posts: 39

Zephyr Quinn Vs. Zane King Vs. Jonathan Willis Jul 12, 2020 23:33:51 GMT -5 The Madness Menagerie, mystifyingoracle, and 1 more like this

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Post by Lab Rat King on Jul 12, 2020 23:33:51 GMT -5

“There are edges around the black and every now and then a flash of colour streaks out of the grey. But I can never really grasp any of the slivers of memories that emerge.”
― Katie McGarry

Subject: RE Zane King [CONFIDENTIAL DOCUMENT: PASSWORD REQUIRED]
Date: July 9th, 2020
Head of assessment: Dr. Yin

The following is a summary of the assessment requested by the administration Carnage Wrestling, performed on behalf of the Xavier Green Psychiatry Practice in Baltimore, Maryland for the patient Zane King.

    Doctor Yin sighs and sits back for a moment, watching the type cursor blink at the pace of a heartbeat on the screen of her laptop. The sun is beginning to dip low on the cityscape horizon in the tall windows behind her, casting a warm vermillion glow across the polished maple desk; it’s barely 5pm but it feels so much later. The fatigue of the day’s work is catching up with her, but she would rather finish this assessment report and leave it behind for the day rather than taking her thoughts on the matter to bed with her that night.

    Collecting herself, she takes a brief sip of rose-coloured tea still steaming in a white mug beside her computer before resuming the report, settling delicate fingers on the keys.

The patient was allowed 48 hours following the concerning incident to recuperate, prior to assessment, before being brought in. He was resistant to remaining in the facility at first, exhibiting signs of aggression toward the members of CW staff who brought him to the office, but dimming the lights and providing privacy by closing the therapy room door seemed to calm him down. He was at no point hostile to me once the CW staff members left.

I was able to coax him into sitting across from me on the sofa, though it took a great deal more effort to encourage him to speak; once the subject did speak, he seemed to do so in short bursts of seemingly nonsensical words, with an inclination toward rhyming and alliteration. After a focused chain of questions it became obvious that his attempts to communicate with me were genuine, but something (presumably a cerebral anomaly, possibly chemically-induced, though we were unable to locate medical records) was actively hindering his ability to translate thoughts into verbalizations. Repeating questions produced the same strings of “nonsense”, clearly demonstrating that despite the initially apparent lack of logic, there were patterns that could be read with a more attentive ear.

Any questions regarding the subject’s experiences prior to signing on with his current employer were ignored or deflected. The subject appeared to have a limited emotional spectrum and a hyper-focus on violence, anger, hunger and silence. He also continued referring to an entity he called “Little Man”, implying on multiple occasions that this entity was small, damaged and vulnerable, as well as that he could hear this entity arguing with him. He additionally made several references to witnessing creatures and events prior to our conversation that are not possible (fantasy), which suggests hallucinations.

The combination of the behaviours listed above implies a tentative prognosis of trauma-induced Dissociative Identity Disorder (though I am hesitant to issue a documented diagnosis without further assessment). The patient appears to have developed a simple secondary identity to protect himself from the psychological aftermath of an unknown traumatic event. This secondary identity is dominant and perpetually defensive, viewing any attempt to address the past trauma as a threat. He appears to engage in violence out of instinct; this may be the only human interaction this secondary identity understands.

    Doctor Yin pauses to push a lock of dark hair back behind her ear, sighing again as she takes another sip of tea and resumes with a knit brow and a quicker hand, trying to keep up with her thoughts.

However, I don’t recommend withdrawing the patient from his current occupation at this time. While this might seem contradictory, I believe the controlled environment of competitive wrestling provides a safe outlet for this secondary identity to communicate with society in the only way he knows how. It is my professional opinion that continued exposure to the pro-wrestling profession will allow the patient to exercise this reflex to fight in a space that he will eventually come to realize is safe, and the defensive nature of the secondary personality will relax, allowing the doors to open to a recovery path. At this time confining the patient to a ward or otherwise restricting his freedom will have a deeply adverse effect on his mental health.

I recommend keeping close observation around the patient for the next six weeks; if the patient’s behaviour has not improved after this probationary period, medical intervention is recommended. I can be contacted at this address following this six-week period for reassessment.

Please contact me for any inquiries regarding insurance options and patient accommodation.

Thank you,
Dr. Quan A. Yin, MD

    Finishing the last mouthful of her tea, Dr. Yin clicks ‘send’, stands from her desk, and closes her laptop, her thoughts haunted by a scarred face with deep-set, distant, mournful amber eyes.

    She really bit me, huh.

    The mutant lies on his back on a cheap motel bed, made affordable by his recent success in the ring, holding his hand up in the lamplight. The incandescent yellow cast, which makes the ugly puce cover on the cheap duvet look even worse, also catches the half-moon grooves of teeth marks on the side of his index finger. His eyes are hooded and weary, bloodshot from a lack of consistent sleep. It’s nothing new.

    I don’t blame her. You didn’t hold back, and you sure as hell didn’t listen to me. A bite is the least you deserve for that showing.

    “Souvenir.”

    That’s an oddly subdued way of looking at it for you, Big Guy... Don’t tell me you actually feel bad about pounding a human being into pulp, for once.

    King doesn’t answer right away, but drops his hand, letting it rest on his flat stomach. His body swells gently with his breath, the indigo lighting lines of poisoned veins only made more stark in the yellow light. At this angle it casts deep shadows in the tight crevices outlining his abdominal muscle. He’s so damn hungry. Always is. It’s so hard to feel full.

    “Pretty lady made me bleed… but she didn’t take my blood.”

    No, I… guess she didn’t.

    King licks his lip, where the split in the pale pink flesh has begun to scab over; he worries at it with his tongue, chasing the faint tang of iron.

    Maybe nobody here wants to take your blood anymore, buddy.

    A beat of silence stretches languid through the room; after allowing the quiet the space it needs to breathe, he sits up, bare feet touching down on the old carpet. He folds over his lap, curling his toes against the low pile. The mutant’s spine gives him the silhouette of a gargoyle, a sentinel carved from granite and blood, hazy amber eyes not seeing the floor but looking off further into a deeper place.

    Maybe we’re safe now.

    He exhales, bringing a hand up to rub at his mouth. The edge of his thumbnail flicks against the healing scab. His voice comes out in a sandy rumble, unused to keeping his volume down.

    “Maybe the hounds will come for us. Barking and biting, skulking and sniffing… if we bleed again will they catch the scent of our copper? Will they come running?”

    I don’t know about that… It’s not like I had a choice when it came to trusting you, but I’ll admit--you might’ve gotten us off their radar. I don’t even remember where we were when we started, and we ran for days. Would they even bother trying now?

    Scratch. Scratch. Flick. His thumb swipes in an even pattern, like a flint being struck against stone. There’s no answer--only a tremor in his wrist. A shared thought passes between them in that quiet moment.

    … I see. Not they. Him.

    “Hnnnn… Syringe in my skin. Thhhhhhhorn in my ribs.”

    Doctor Rose. Yeah.

    The mutant stands with a lurch, swaying slightly on his feet; he paces over to the windows, pulling the closed curtain open just enough to look out at the street. It’s dark but for a flickering lamp post near the window, the glass panes dirty and spattered with a recent rain.

    His hand returns to his mouth.

                                    Scratch. Flick. Scratch.

    … He ruined my life. What I can remember of it, anyway. He…. made you like this. I know. And that’s not something we’re about to forget. But we’re not in there anymore, Big Guy. Maybe shit sucks right now but it’s so much better than it was… didn’t it feel good to be in that ring? Didn’t it feel great to fight a fight we asked for, and not one forced on us? Didn’t it feel incredible to fight for a reason other than survival?

    “... My blood was boiling… little bird was small and soft but she bit hard! There was no malice in her soul. Eyes like dark fire... but no poison in her will.”

    Yeah, exactly… I think. You mean she wanted to be there. We wanted to be there. Nobody was trying to kill anyone... It was a fair fight and it felt good. And we won.

    He inhales and exhales, deep and slow, spurring a cloud of fog to bloom against the glass.

    Even if Doctor Rose finds us… do you think he’s gonna have an easy time getting us out of here? If we keep doing good work and play the part for this company, do you think they’ll let us go that easy?

                            Flick. Flick.

    And if we keep winning… keep climbing into that spotlight... maybe the good bastard doctor won’t be the only one who notices. Maybe it’ll get her attention. Maybe, wherever she is, she’ll see… and she’ll know how to find us.

    “Hnnh.”

    … It felt good to win, didn’t it. Don’t you want to fight again?

                    Scratch. Schff.

    King draws his hand away from his mouth, observing the red smear on his thumbnail. A bead of blood swells on his skin, having opened up the scab. The tip of his tongue emerges just enough to touch it, breaking the shape and allowing blood to chase the cracked lines in his dry lower lip.

    “It feels good to crawl out from the pit to the top.”

    The mutant grins, blood in his teeth. His eyes take on a new energy, in defiance of their bloodshot exhaustion.

    “If the Chaos makes me bleed, let it cut without remorse. If the hounds smell my blood, let them come! I want to FIGHT! I want to breathe deep of this orchestrated violence! I want to claw my way to the crown! The Lab Rat King will reign! Let this ferrous stench lead the dogs down the path of my SLAUGHTER!”

    … That’s the spirit. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.

    “No fear,” he laughs, planting his hands on the window pane, dragging streaks of clarity through the glass fog. “No fear! Only FURY!”

    It’s dark. The camera rolls in and out of focus, flickers of static crackling across as a pair of hands withdraw from view. They’re rough; hard-worn with nails gnawed down in fits of nerves, outlined with suggestions of dried blood, and parched as a dead garden. There’s only a moment of stillness before the dark is filled with an equally neglected face. This time, he’s not wearing his leather muzzle. His full lips are cracked open on the right side, and smeared with fresh blood. It becomes clear after a moment why, as a slight flash of teeth and the tip of a swollen tongue bother the wound--it’s obvious that he hasn’t left it alone since it happened.

    And yet, he doesn’t seem to pay the pain any mind, instead exhaling in a slow, tremulous gust; his dark amber eyes come into focus, visibly bloodshot even in the dim. The mutant smiles, more reminiscent of a snarling dog, showing teeth, gum and ravenous intent.

    Easy, Big Guy. I know you’re excited, but try to keep it together.

    The Lab Rat King laughs, a low and rasping noise from a stuttering vent.

    “The rule of Chaos... so much fun.” He licks the smear of blood from his lip, his face still inches from the camera. “What better playground for a beast borne of battle to sate his irresistible inclinations! I can’t wait to play again.”

    As long as you’re just playing, I guess.

    The camera shakes and goes dark again, swept up by a heavy hand--a moment later it focuses again on the mutant’s face, those wild eyes dancing with a sadist’s mirth. He must be holding it now, the dim light of the divide the only thing left to illuminate his hard features.

    “I’ve seen the new mice ready to join me in the cage. Little mice, pale mice, delicate mice. Two rrrRRRAGING RODENTS!!!” Another scratching laugh. “Was it so obvious so fast that a solo sacrifice would never be enough to stop this freight train?! TWO NEXT!! Two bold and brazen and boiling, ready to be buckled beneath my boots!”

    He smirks wickedly and points to his neck, where his last opponent was sporting just such an indicative bruise. “Or did you not witness my warpath on the little birdie?”

    Remember when I called you a dick last time? Yeah. Still a dick.

    There’s a tussling noise as he sets the camera down on some unseen hard surface; he vanishes again, chuckling, though his faded silhouette can be seen pacing just a short distance away. The lens focuses on him again when he leans into range, the blood of his lip now trickling down the angle of his jaw. He makes no motion to attend to it.

    “Quiet, little man.”

    He sets the black leather muzzle against his face, reaching back behind his head to secure it; even with so little light, the size of him is startling. He lowers trunk-like arms with a sigh, leaning in to the camera with both hands resting to either side of it, eyes fixed on the lens as the rest of his face is concealed fully in shadow. Black, after all, reflected no light. Even so, the grin is visible in the lines around those eyes.

    You can’t shut me up and you know it. Zephyr Quinn... What do you think of her?

    “Blood drink number one… the screams in the wind told me that YOU might find this beast rrrrrRRRELATABLE.”

    He growls the last word, a hint of malice about him.

    “Show me your teeth, rat girl. Show me the fangs you used to fight free. I want to know your fury like my own! Don’t you dare speak--I want to read the language of your violence! Where you’ve been, the bloody trail you’ve left behind! Show me what you did to claw your way out! Little monster!”

    His eyelids flicker and he slumps down a bit, the sheen of sweat visible on his forehead.

    “Monster. YOU’RE LYING TO YOURSELF. What chance do we have of being anything but what we were MADE to be? WHY FIGHT THAT? FIGHT EVERYTHING ELSE. FIGHT WITH FIRE!!”

    He swipes at the camera and sends it flying; a clattering noise followed by a muffled thump.

    … Do you believe that? That there’s no going back for people like us?

    “Rghhhhn.”

    A moment later, his face finds the camera again, leaning over it like a slavering wolf over his fresh catch. Blood drips from his chin and lands with a muted patter on the corner of the lens.

    … And Willis?

    “Blood drink number two… you have already tasted death. I see it on your face! Not in the grrrrrease, in the histrionics of your mask--in your EYES, BONE BOY.”

    He leans even closer, his face blurring from the proximity. The lens struggles to focus on him-- on eyes wild and round, pupils like windows to the end. He whispers now, his breath coming sharp through the vents of his mask.

    “That’s how I know you will fight with every bone, every tendon, every strain of your voracious will. That’s how I know I’m going to enjoy crushing you to the floor--because you... will. Get. Back. Up. Again. And. Again.”

    His grin is audible, confirmed by a muted, wheezing laugh.

    “You, too, have come shrieking up from the bottom of the pit. Hell itself. The darkness pulling at your ribboned flanks, your pulsing veins aching for missed mercy, their crying dragging you down, but no... pain is pure! Blood is better!”

    Grabbing the device, he rears up, climbing to his feet with a roar of cackling laughter.

    “Let’s see which one of us is the hungriest!! Let’s tangle our tails, become the Rat King, and taste our own blood and know that pain means we’re STILL ALIVE!!”

    We’re… still alive… We’re still alive.

    The mutant grins knowingly under his mask, his eyes flickering back and to the right as if listening to something. They shift forward again in an instant, leaning close to the camera lens once more. His breath threatens to fog the lens.

    “I can’t wait! The anticipation makes my marrow ache… I can feel my synapses singing, shrieking, screaming for the next rampage! Out of private hell you may have come, but you were not spawned from the same nightmare, derived from the same cesspool of inhumanity. You were not sculpted out of needles and chains and poison under the grip of thorns. You have known purpose beyond war... but that is where you will fall short and bloody onto the blades of my wwwwrrrrrath.”

    He snarls, and if one looks closely, they can see him physically trembling. His eyes are at once filled with unbridled rage and a weary, subdued misery.

    “Know this, vicious little mice… tiny monsters. No matter how much hunger fuels your snapping teeth… no matter how powerfully your tender hearts pound and your blood sears inside the fragile frame of flesh you ride…”

    He pulls the mask up, just enough to show a malicious sneer, fresh blood set deeply between his lashing tongue and teeth.

    “It will take BOTH of you to break my crown.”

    The video cuts abruptly to static, a flicker of a bleached bone rat skull appearing in the haze, before crackling away to abyssal nothing.

Last Edit: Jul 12, 2020 23:37:50 GMT -5 by Lab Rat King

The Madness Menagerie
Chaos Wrestlers

"If you take away the voices we're just like YOU!"

Posts: 197

Zephyr Quinn Vs. Zane King Vs. Jonathan Willis Jul 14, 2020 17:09:57 GMT -5 Jon Willis likes this

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Post by The Madness Menagerie on Jul 14, 2020 17:09:57 GMT -5

Post Chaos 95: Parking lot of arena -

------------------------------------------------------

Zephyr and Belle walk in each other’s arms, smiling and enjoying the rest of their night. After finding out Zephyr had a tag team title match to prep for, the two decided on a low key celebration. Whatever takeout they could find and maybe a movie to fall asleep to. Zephyr keeps Belle in the corner of her eye, not quite willing to believe her good fortune. Hell, she didn’t even know she was looking to be in a relationship to begin with.

Everything before Belle came in through the door, with Sebastian close behind, felt like it had a veil placed over it. Zephyr saw the mound that she calls her past, but for now, it was hidden out of sight. She was free to focus on things that mattered. Things like getting her life in order after a life of being the science experiment of a demented company bent on world domination. Zephyr sighs heavily and Belle shifts, noticing.

Belle Silva: Z? You ok?

Zephyr looks her in the eyes and smiles. That face could clear up even the stormiest of seas. Did she really deserve to be so lucky in this department of her life, her “love” life? Belle starts to grow concerned and looks to say something else, but Zephyr only smiles at her.

Zephyr Quinn: I’m fine. You’re the best thing to happen to me and I just… I don’t want anything to mess this up for us. Did I ever tell you, or did you know I have a twin? I know you were only brought back to the company recently, I didn’t know…

Belle smiles and places a finger gently on Zephyr’s lips.

Belle Silva: A good reporter knows all. The best find it all out on their own. Zephyr, believe me when I tell you that none of that matters to me. YOU matter to me. I don’t know what it was that drew me to you, fate, divine intervention, whatever it was… You’re special. Regardless of whatever past you find yourself crawling out of, YOU have decided to crawl out of it. On top of all of that Zephyr, now you have to deal with my head growing three sizes up…

She uses her hands to demonstrate and Zephyr can only stare.

Belle Silva: Because I was RIGHT about you. YOU are a good person, deep down. You had your shit and don’t get me wrong Zephyr, the stuff that you did was SCARY. Brutal and downright cruel in some respects. But…

Belle’s shoulders slump as if she’s exhausted, almost defeated.

Belle Silva: You keep comparing yourself the monster ZQ. The monster that your twin Su turned you into and when she found out you were having second thoughts, she disowned you. Yes, Zephyr, I know you have a twin. As far as I’m concerned she can die a slow and agonizing death. I apologize because I know you love her and you miss her. You want her to see things in a new light and you want her to be your twin again. I can’t relate but I get it Zephyr. What she did to you though? What she put you through? It was abuse. Emotional abuse on the deepest of levels and THAT is why I’m sorry. And on top of all of that Zephyr? On top of it all?

Zephyr only shakes her head, her eyes wide, unsure of what to expect next. Belle launches herself at Quinn, who catches her as Belle kisses her passionately before pulling away. She holds Zephyr’s face in her hands as she lovingly looks into her eyes.

Belle Silva: You’re fuckin’ hot. Now… What should we get to eat?

Once again with their priorities straight, the two head off into the night. But what good romance is complete without a figure her features resembling Zephyr but her hair liquid black, down to her hips. Her eyes narrow as she stares at her twin and her new… Play thing. Su sinks back into her hiding spot. There was planning to do, but it was almost time…

==========================================================

Zephyr Quinn steps into a local zoo, the attendants cautious from the last time she visited. After assuring them that times have changed Zephyr heads to her destination. As requested, the crew has already set up right in front of the specified exhibit. They start to roll as Zephyr looks into the tank of four turtles, looking at them in admiration before addressing the camera before her.

Zephyr Quinn: I know, the reference was just too good to ignore, so I figure that I have to ask… Any relation to Splinter and his Ninja Turtles, your majesty Lab Rat King?

Zephyr smiles as she holds up her hands in mock surrender.

Zephyr Quinn: It was bad. I get that. But come on, I can’t be the only one that thinks this am I? Regardless…

The smile comes off of Zephyr’s face as she adapts a more serious tone.

Zephyr Quinn: Since I’ve started off on my path of redemption, I’ve been taken under the wings of two grizzled veterans of the Carnage roster. Mac Bane and Trent Steel. Now, it seems to be a popular opinion among them, that instead of focusing on why I’m going to win this match, I should instead focus on why these things are just so gosh darned important to me.

She casts a side long glance at the turtles before once again addressing the camera.

Zephyr Quinn: LRK, I don’t know if you have a handler, if I need to address them or if it’s you. Frankly, I don’t care. You sir, represent EVERYTHING that I used to be and everything that I war against on a daily basis. You’re the product of a science experiment and you use that to your advantage.

She pauses and sidles in front of the turtles.

Zephyr Quinn: Who knows exactly what could set you off? Be that as it may, I come from a very similar past Lab Rat. I am the product of a science experiment and I’ve thrown of the shackles of what my torturers did to me. Why is this important to me? Why should winning against a demented monster of an experiment used to inflict all the pain it possibly can?! I would hope that’s self explanatory at this point, but allow me to clear it up for you if you haven’t been following along.

Her voice grows louder, more agitated with every word. Her voice reaches a pitch that is indescribable, “breathtaking” to be the closest word to describe it.

Zephyr Quinn: A monster that is taught to maim and destroy is capable of looking back at what it has done and regret every minute of every brick that they destroyed. I don’t expect you to listen to this and understand LRK, I really and truly don’t. However…

She stands aside from the turtles. All four are gone and instead four character actors come out dressed as the Ninja Turtles.

Zephyr Quinn: You, just like Splinter, just like the turtles, and just like me are nothing more than products of science experiments. Experiments meant for one sole purpose but hey, shit happens. It is important to me, to my career and everything I stand for to win this match because it’s time to show the world that experimenting on people is just… Not cool. You look and you’re given all of these wonderful abilities. I felt invincible, unbeatable, and god damn did I prove it through whatever means necessary. Did you know that I handed the former World Champion a count out loss? I beat the Jack Michaels and look at what happened. I thought it would lead to bigger and greater things and it just… Didn’t. I had thought the world was against me at that point, but no. That wasn’t it Lab Rat King. It was because the world has its own fair share of monsters, I didn’t need to add to it.

She stops and looks back at the turtles, practicing various karate moves against each other. Smiling Zephyr continues.

Zephyr Quinn: You might feel like you want to be a part of that monster world but you have to know LRK, you have to FEEL it in the very cockles of whatever it is that you call a soul; once you have run your course, once you fulfill your duty to whatever being is pulling your chains, they will eradicate your very existence. They already have a fail safe in place just in case you get out of hand. Take it from a reformed monster, there is ALWAYS a plan to get rid of the monster.

At Chaos 95, you’re going to be stepping into my arena with Jon Willis, and no, I didn’t forget about him, I have something else planned for him. I don’t know if you can hear me or if you only truly listen to your masters King, so I’ll try to be as simplistic as I can. You don’t intimidate me. When we come face to face, you will be looking into the eyes of a fellow monster. You will realize that I am not like anything you have encountered since you were let out of whatever rat’s nest they created just for you, and you will finally figure out that when it comes to overcoming the odds there will only be one name that should leave your lips.

Another actor appears, this one dressed as Splinter as he yells;

Splinter: Go Zephyr, go Zephyr, GO! Ten flips, NOW!

With that the turtles start flipping as Zephyr is freezeframed by the camera, shoving pizza into her mouth and giving a cheesy thumbs up and grin.

===============================================

The rest of the night moved smoothly in Zephyr’s eyes. She caught wind of Jon Willis’ call out blog live from Walmart or wherever and watched that with Belle. The comparisons were on point but for someone that had a tall order in front of him for the following show, he was certainly taking a bite out from a lot of pies. As good as people believe that they are, Zephyr didn’t even believe that Ken Davison himself could challenge so many big names in one sitting and live to tell the tale.

But then again, Zephyr hadn’t tried to call anyone out since Su had been the one on the mic the entire time. It was her “thing.” Zephyr never questioned it and therefore, she had been taking lessons from Mac and Trent on how to adequately talk on the mic. Belle has been able to give valuable insight as well and as they finish their Chinese takeout, watching reruns of Bones at Belle’s apartment, the conversation turns to this as Zephyr gently plays with Belle’s hair curled in her lap.

Belle Silva: Ya know, trying to relate to people and show them why things are important to you is… Well, it’s important.

Zephyr nods before replying.

Zephyr Quinn: Right, I get that. How else am I going to earn fans if I don’t try to connect with them on some level? I just… I don’t know what’s important to me at the moment. All of that information was fed to me for so long…

Belle shifts so she’s laying on her stomach, looking up at Zephyr, her head resting comfortably on Zephyr’s chest.

Belle Silva: So… What’s important to you?

Zephyr laughs, quietly and awkwardly.

Zephyr Quinn: I don’t know honestly. Since I left The Institute and the Friends’ influence, it’s been something that has weighed on me. That’s why I have this…

Zephyr takes out her notebook, beat up as ever a familiar coffee stain on it. Belle smiles remembering their encounter at the coffee shop.

Belle Silva: Right, you never DID tell me what was in there.

She playfully reaches up as Zephyr tries to keep the book away from them. Both laugh and enjoy themselves for a moment, getting wrapped up in one of life’s few joys. After settling down and rolling around some, they once again get comfortable on the couch, this time Belle insisting Zephyr be the one laying down so that Belle could play with her hair. It was a sensation that Zephyr didn’t realize she would enjoy, but she smiled as Belle gently massaged the sides of her head as Quinn continues.

Zephyr Quinn: It’s a notebook I keep to figure myself out. Likes, dislikes, dreams, and motivations… They’re all in there. At least as they come to me.

Belle continues to massage Zephyr’s head while toying with her spikes with one hand.

Belle Silva: Mmhmm… So, what have you figured out?

Zephyr Quinn: Always inquisitive aren’t you?

Belle winks at Zephyr, smiling and showing her dimples.

Belle Silva: Reporter, remember? Part of the job description.

Zephyr Quinn: Mmmm…

Zephyr’s eyes close, her body relaxing as Belle continues toying with Zeph’s hair.

Belle Silva: So?

Zephyr Quinn: Wha? Oh yeah… I REALLY just want to impress people. I find myself caring a lot about what people think of me, especially now… I did so many bad things and while it looks like I didn’t have much of a choice, I still DID them.

Belle Silva: So you want to connect to the fans, but…

She’s interrupted as there’s a knock on the door. Zephyr’s eyes fly open as she walks silently over to the door and looks out the peephole. A confused expression comes on her face as she opens the door, peers out in both directions, bends down to grab something, and brings it into the apartment after closing and locking the door. Belle gets up from the couch and goes over to where Zephyr is standing with a birdcage, inside a note with a small, replica flugelhorn. The note reads:

You. Me. Chaos 96.

You bring the talk show, I’ll bring the flugelhorn.
There are things to discuss!

Ataxia

The two women exchange confused glances as the scene fades.

============================================
An old toy museum is where we find our intrepid heroine. She stands outside, the building obviously closed for business. Zephyr notices the camera crew and smiles as the red light comes on.

Zephyr Quinn: Closed for business, but the point stands and hell, maybe this will all work out for the better? I never was one for metaphor. Now, I’ve already addressed the monster known as Lab Rat King and got to high five a couple turtles that know martial arts while being told to flip by a rat. Again, the comparison was just too good to pass up, but he wasn’t the only member of this three person tango, was it Jonathan?

Zephyr smiles as she half heartedly tosses a small pebble before getting up and dusting herself off. Tonight, she wears a white hoody, sparkling in the moonlight on a cloudless night.

Zephyr Quinn: I’ll get to where we are in a moment, but first I have to congratulate you Jonathan. Not sure if you know this or not, but the person you faced off against at Chaos 94, Mitaxia, Mia Rayne, whatever you call her, was my sister. Well… She still is as well, but she was back then too. She’s responsible for a lot of pain and suffering and everytime I tried to stand up to her, I was instantly squashed by her and her cronies. You may have taken a bell to the dome sir, but you stood your ground against her and that is something to be commended. Mia doesn’t cost herself matches just because; she likes to be in control and you took that control from her. She responded in kind and I don’t have to tell you the end result. However, most would go to the back, lick their wounds, and accept whatever else came their way. What did you do though?

Zephyr glances at the toy museum, action figures from the 90’s, specifically the X-Men Animated Series line are displayed prominently.

Zephyr Quinn: You went and you challenged some of the biggest and hardest hitters this federation has to offer as well as relative X-Factors, no pun intended…

Another look to the window.

Zephyr Quinn: Of your fellow new comers and sir, let me tell you… That takes some balls! I mean, I’ve actually BEEN in the ring with Mac Bane and Trent Steel. I stood toe to toe with Amber Ryan and painted her face with the blood of a sheep in a challenge. If there’s anyone that can get ignored by Amber Ryan, it’s friggin’ me. I went to the extreme and she didn’t bat an eyelash, and you Jon, are comparing her to a toy. Just trying to give you some friendly advice, she responds to actions, not metaphors.

She chews on her words thoughtfully before adding an afterthought.

Zephyr Quinn: She can’t punch a metaphor, but she can certainly punch you. Be that as it may though, you left out the two most imposing threats on your little crusade. Your quest for your own personal redemption and Jonathan, I’m beginning to get the feeling that you’ve been down this road before, you used that whole, “I want redemption” arch, and you manipulated it so you could get what you wanted. Anyone that stands in your way, you fit your need to beat them into your narrative and I can’t honestly fault you for that. You want to take on challenges, you want to overcome them, and you want to rise to the top, a better person when everything is said and done; just. Like. Any. Hero.

Zephyr starts to pace the outskirts of the building, looking inside occasionally as she talks.

Zephyr Quinn: You make your comparisons Jonathan and you’re quite right to do so. You made your challenges like any other ravenous person, hungry to prove themselves, and you’re the only one in recent memory that has done that. However, those two threats you forgot about? You never even mentioned LRK and the only time I was brought up, was when you told Trent to give me the night off.

She takes a moment to laugh to herself. After collecting herself, she continues.

Zephyr Quinn: That’s all well and good, you go challenge Trent, but you are about to go up against his tag team partner as well as the losing science experiment from a science fair for horrors; so maybe taking a step back and focusing on your current match would be the best course of action.

Zephyr shrugs at the camera and then continues.

Zephyr Quinn: You sir are a talented piece of work and I honestly look forward to tangling up with you. Granted, I was informed you posted a promo for this match shortly before I came out here to do mine. I’m sure I’ll find some lovely things that you mentioned about me in there, but in order to keep appearances, I wanted to ensure that you and I had a chance to speak without any other kind of influence.

Zephyr narrows her eyes, her gaze centered squarely on the lens, almost as if she was peering into the viewer’s soul.

Zephyr Quinn: I’m sure you’re destined for great things Jonathan. I’m sure you’ll flourish here in Carnage. I don’t know what this match will hold for either of us, but I do know that it’s going to be one hell of a mid card matchup. This match? It’s as important to me as a title match, a chance to win back the Baltimore Title, maybe… Someday.

She scoffs, finding something funny before sharing it.

Zephyr Quinn: I have to laugh. You challenge Mac for that Baltimore title while dreadfully overlooking the very person he had to beat in order to get that strap. That would indeed be me. I warn you though, I’m just as hungry as you, if not hungrier. I’m ravenous to get my road to redemption back on track and THAT Jonathan is why you need to be very careful about how you proceed. This match isn’t just some triple threat match with zero implication. This is a match where this reformed monster redeems herself against another monster and the man that took her awful monster sister down a peg. This is the story where the victim of every monster, regardless of type of attack, gets to shine. It’s time for the victims to shine, to taste victory at the cost of their monster’s demise. Sadly Jonathan, I see the path you’re on and unless you decide to help me overcome LRK and we can settle things ourselves; we might be just another victim.

And I refuse to be “just another” anything. I’m not your stepping stone. I’m not a rung on your ladder to whatever it is you want to climb to. I don’t know, your motivations seem to be all over the place. What I DO know is that I am so much more than what people give me credit for. You, Lab Rat King, and the rest of the world are about to find this out. That isn’t a promise, I don’t care if you’re able to win the match. Jonathan, when the opening bell tolls, you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about and when the dust settles, and that bell rings…

No matter who is the one standing tall with their arms raised, you WILL know who I am. You WILL know what I’m about and you WILL respect my name enough that you don’t EVER overlook me again in any context. You want to make comparisons? Consider this and I apologize, I don’t have an action figure for show and tell time… You are Doctor Doom. Untouchable by conventional means, unbeatable by your average foe. You are the epitome of that factor that no one knows how to deal with, and that makes you dangerous. You can call me… Squirrel Girl. Underestimated but still itching for a fight and tenacious enough that I’ll never back down. How many times has Dr. Doom been able to get one over on Squirrel Girl there Mr. Comic Guru?

Zephyr winks.

Zephyr Quinn: I’ll see you soon Doom. Bring your best suit of armor and I’ll bring my best squirrels and we’ll tango with LRK to show the world that even with a match of freaks, monsters, and squirrels, WE are always going to be the ones to watch.

The scene fades, the camera centering on a random squirrel, chewing a nut, and chittering while staring right back at the camera.

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Zephyr knew she was dreaming. It was short, too the point, and where she had fallen asleep in Belle’s arms, she was now standing in the middle of the Carnage ring, dressed to compete. Applause can be heard echoing and Zephyr turns to find herself looking at....

Herself.

But with longer hair and sinister features.

Herself smiles and headbutts Zephyr, laughing maniacally all the way before Zephyr wakes up gasping and covered in sweat. Belle wakes up with her and instinctively turns on the light as Zephyr goes to the window to look out.

Belle Silva: Zephyr? What’s…?

She stops as Zephyr holds up a finger, staring hard into the night. Staring right back at her was her own twin, Su, smiling while staring into Zephyr’s eyes, her applauding echoing into the night.

Act of Defiance 2021

Zephyr Quinn Vs. Zane King Vs. Jonathan Willis

Post by Webmistress Barbie on Jul 8, 2020 18:22:37 GMT -5

Post by Jon Willis on Jul 12, 2020 12:37:16 GMT -5

Post by Lab Rat King on Jul 12, 2020 23:33:51 GMT -5

Post by The Madness Menagerie on Jul 14, 2020 17:09:57 GMT -5