*The home Zolton and Melissa shared in the state of California. Up on the roof, Zolton stands next to the ledge. The warm air surrounds his shirtless torso. He looks out over the city as he comes his hair back. He shakes his head and turns to face the door to that leads inside their home. A breeze catches his hair and lightly pushes the locks to the side that he just combed back with his hand. Just then he places the palms of his tattooed hands on the concrete and leans back a little. He was thinking about all of what was coming up for him, not only spending time with his Demoness, but he had a match for the World Wrestling Headquarters, one that could lead to something big for him there. Then less than a week later, he will be taking on the man that he shares the lead in points with over at Championship Wrestling Federation, Freddie Styles. He was finding it a little more difficult than he originally thought to balance. So much ambition could be his downfall altogether. But he can’t show that to the public. It isn’t his personality to portray self doubt.*
*Just then the beautiful young woman known as Melissa Aki, his Demoness slides open the door to their home and peeks out. Zolton’s expression softens as he peers at her.*
“Hello beautiful. What are you doing in there?”
"Ah you know this and that though my feet ache for some reason. Speaking of which, which punk ass are we going to beat in C W F?"
*Zolton shows a smile through his facial hair.*
"Aww my love. Well come lay down, relax and give me those feet."
*He says lightly as he steps forward toward the bench with cushions are adorning it.*
"My opponent is Freddie Styles. Him and I currently share the lead at the top of the Alpha block of this tournament."
*She pondered the name Freddie Styles and let it wash over her tongue, let it fill her pallet, tasting the name in all its wonder.*
"I am not sure I like that name. He sounds like an old gigolo to me or maybe he is a pimp. I am very displeased he is sharing your lead with a name like that. I expect you to pulverise him and if you do, I got a special surprise for you babe."
*Zolton lets out a soft chuckle as he sits upon the bench at her feet and begins to rub them as he peers at her with a soft admiringly look.*
"Well that intensifies my motivation to end his small little reign of glory alongside my own. Oh, anything from you is special my Demoness."
*Zolton continues massaging the young beauty's feet with caring love.*
"I'm also not going to be overlooking him. Although there is a discrepancy in size and style between him and I. His fandom runs deep and he is accomplished on the amateur level."
*She considered this.*
"Definitely is amateur hour with that name. I am going to be ringside to witness your extraction of his name, his livelihood, and his manhood. It is high time my man proved why he is the underrated king of all he purveys. Your time is now babe. Grab it. Hold it. Cherish it. I believe in you honeylove!"
"I'd love for you to be there babe. Going to be flying from Saitama to Dublin after Thursday my Demoness. But honestly I can pick him apart through his skills rather than go on some tyrade destroying his lack of creativity with the choice of his name. How are your feet feeling beautiful Demoness of mine?"
*He asks softly while he continues to massage her feet. She smiles as she drifts off in thoughts of her own match Thursday night and then after a few minutes snaps back.*
"Ireland? Do you think we could make a pit stop to England after? I miss my family and would love to show you all the sights."
*She winks seductively. He nods.*
"Of course my love. Should have a little break between bouts to have a mini vacation in England. Also think I need to make an appearance for your family. Haven't seen them since the holidays."
*He begins to massage up the beautiful young woman's legs. The two continue talking about other things outside the world of Championship Wrestling Federation. His hands massage her feet, then up her legs. Some giggles and chuckles occur before the scene swirls around to black.*
*Our vision snaps into focus in what seems to be a waterfront between two mountains. In the distance there is another mountain peak. The fog is lifting in the bright early morning hours as the rays of sunlight peer out over the valley behind us. The serene water suddenly explodes as a figure we don't recognize rises from beneath the surface. His long hair flies backward and behind his head as water streams from his long beard. The figure turns out to be the man of Chaos. The one and only Zolton. His shirtless upper body sherning from the water. His breaths seen as white mist fuming from between his lips and out his nostrils. He steps forward and up onto the bank of the lake. His boxer briefs cling to his upper thighs as he reaches and grabs a towel draped over some short grown tree. As he pats dry his arms and chest, her voice enter the auditory receivers of ours.*
Here he is ladies and gentleman that sit back and continue to critique his work inside the ring of the Championship Wrestling Federation. You all sit on your couches. In the basement of your parents and say this man is nothing but a massive pile of garbage. All he has done has won. Defeated the ultimate veteran from Australia, Nathan Paradine. Then defeated the one that claims to be some kind of savior in Phoenix LeStrange. Yet you look down on him. Does that bother him? Quite apparently it doesn't.
*Zolton gently squeezes the water soaking into his hair as an audible sigh of disgust escaped his lips as she spoke. Almost in a mocking tone. He continues to dry himself off as she goes on.*
Now he approaches the next foe. The one that carries the same amount of points into this bout as the man of Chaos. Freddie Styles.
*Another mocking sigh escaped Zolton's lips as he grabs his jeans and slips them on. He turns and faces us, disdain in his eyes.*
"A hall of famer. Which hall though Styles? The one of being overconfident? The one of having too large of an ego to walk through a normal doorway? I've never seen you until I began my journey here in Championship Wrestling Federation. And what I've seen isn't too impressive. Who have you defeated in this tournament so far? No names? Kids off the street playing wrestler? I'll get to those pathetic chumps later. When I stepped into the ring against them. No need to trash their incapabilities now. I'm focused on you, Freddie."
*Zolton turns and looks out across the body of water hr just emerged from. We cannot see his expression. Only those with an imagination can imagine what it would look like in that particular moment.*
"Let me take a moment to introduce to you where it is I am Mister Styles. This is Glendalough Valley. I'm standing approximately thirty miles from the Irish capital city of Dublin. Which happens to be the location of our battle. You might be wondering what Glendalough means. I'll give you a minute to ponder that."
*Which he does. Zolton stands there in silence as he reaches up with his hands and rings some more water out of his long thick hair. Afterward, he turns to face us. That white steam escaping his mouth and nostrils, signifying the air around him not being exactly warm. Not shirtless weather for sure.*
"It means the Glen of two lakes in the Irish language. I stand here surrounded by cliffs and just up there."
*He points to something of significance behind us but we do not get to turn and see it.*
"Is the ruins of the ancient monastic city."
*His arm comes back down to his side. He sort of leans on his slightly bent left leg now as he stares through us.*
"Freddie, I can stand here and honestly tell you, you've never seen a man like me. You've never been in the ring against a man of my caliber. Yeah they all say that in some form or another. I know. I've heard it. Hell I've said it once or twice in my career. Facts are facts though little man, I'm like no monster you've ever conjured up in your fantasy worlds. And I'm like no other anti hero. I told Miss LeStrange a couple of weeks ago, I used to want to save those less fortunate. Those too weak to fend for themselves. Now I just look at you all the same. Weak. Pathetic. Parasites. You're just as they are Freddie. You can step in front of one of those C W F cameras and spout a whole bunch of words and phrases that cater to the masses. It will mean absolutely diddly fucking squat to me. I'm a true and real professional. I've trained quite literally my entire life for moments like these. Taking on the supposed best this business has to offer and send them crying back to those that coddle them."
*A small crooked smile appears behind his beard as his piercing blue eyes shift slightly to our right, his left. He straightens up, standing on the bank of the lake behind him. Her voice comes across now.*
He's only spoke the truth to each and every foe that has been put in front of him. Although a new place. New faces. He has embraced the supposed challenges. Sent both packing. He leads the Alpha block and will be solely in the lead when September tenth is in the books. Freddie Styles, what more is there to say about the rat's nest?
*Zolton's eyes brighten, erasing the reds, oranges, and yellows of the rising sun behind us. We believe he is now looking at us again but we cannot tell.*
It seems there is more to discuss.
*The blue dampens enough to reveal that yes, indeed he is staring through us again.*
"Mister Styles, looking through your past match-ups. Your skill set that the Championship Wrestling Federation's website. You are a risk taker. A flyer. A little stronger than you appear. Your stature, although a bit bigger, more stout than LeStrange, you are still giving up quite a bit of size and weight to me. Now don't take that as me writing off what you can do and withstand inside the ring. But understand my focus. My skills. I wonder how well you'll be able to fly through the air to impress those bottom feeding mouth breather if I've dislocated your knee? Or your ankle? Maybe hyperextended your hip joints? All of these questions are pertinent Mister Styles. Why? Of course your thick skull wouldn’t allow such importance enter your peanut sized brain. It is simple. How are you going to fly when I've dismantled and destroyed the lower half of your body? Was that more simple for you to grasp?"
*His tone is of frustration, it is quite apparent as he shakes his head sending a long line of white steam from between his lips. His bright, piercing blue eyes return to us.*
"What you might be able to do is start to chop me down as they say before I get ahold of you. I anticipate this. Your speed exceeds mine. But my balance. My sheer will and determination will overshadow your attempts. Ask Paradine what it was like to be in the ring against me? Ask LeStrange what it felt like having my hands damn near cripple her? You might be able to outrun the inevitable for a time Styles. But the thing about inevitability is, it is inevitable. You can't escape what is true. What is real. And what is chaotic. Welcome to my world of serene CHAOS Mister STYLES! Your fate isn't sealed, but your marked. Maybe you can have a war of words with Rishel after our match is over. This time in defeat."
*His last words really pack a punch as he steps forward then passed us. We wobble for a moment before her soft, raspy voice returns.*
The man of Chaos has spoken. The date is set. The location marked. When Zolton steps inside the ring on September tenth. The words are through. The stares and mocking banter done. Only action will speak. Tune into Championship Wrestling Federation's Evolution number sixty three to see the bringer of chaos standing tall after the dust has settled. The smoke cleared. The mouth breathing parasites agaped traps. Tune in. Be mesmerized.
*Her voice trails off into the ether shortly before we go dark and lose our sight and ability to hear once again.*
"The concession stands are now selling those cheap hotel room round soap disks that I have personally blessed for $100’s a bar….AND SINNERS….I suggest you buy one, and use it, because if you think your God wants you in his heaven smelling like a 3am New York City uber ride you got another thing coming."