Title: Confidence unwavered... Rage on full tilt... The Swede is the next VICTIM!!
Featuring: Zolton
Date: September 19, 2019
Location: Unknown
Show: Evolution 65



”He fears nothing.
His tears are invisible.
The goal still within reach.
A setback.
Not a downfall.
True chaos is beautiful.
Beauty is in the chaos.
His rage burns like lava.
His words sting with venom.
A savior of none.
The bringer of destruction.
The Swede falls out of NEUTRALITY!!”



 

Confidence unwavered… Rage on full tilt… The Swede is the next VICTIM!!




 

++==LOCATION: Unknnown==++
++==DATE: September 19, 2019==++
++==PLACE: An Underground Catacomb==++





*The world was dark. Silent too. We couldn’t see nor hear what was going on around us. All that was there, was darkness. An eerie silence. Before there was no more silence. A loud crash, slam, shattering noise happens, it echos so loud that what remains is an ringing. An echo of the sounds we just heard. Slowly our hearing returns to normal. Then his voice. Eerily deep. Intensely soft.*

“So now it stands, The Alpha block has a number one, two and three in the points standings. I unfortunately sit in the number three position. The boy that pulled out some kind of wizardry magic to defeat me a couple weeks ago, Freddie Styles, sits in number one. The man that has a name so close to a woman’s cleaning device I refuse to speak it, sit at number two, just one point more than what I have.”

*We remain in darkness as his voice overwhelms our auditory sensors. The words are clear yet echoing at the same time. We can’t control what is going on with our hearing either which is so frustrating.*

“I came to this company with one goal in mind. To destroy all that stood before me. Run through this tournament with ease and become the next Championship Wrestling Federation World Champion. Unfortunately Styles put a slight hiccup in that goal. Does that mean I will throw in the towel and run away? Does that mean I have fallen away to where there is no chance in winning this tournament?”

*His voice is so eerily deep and overwhelmingly intense, we are unable to compute it. Yet every word hits with a thud of absolute venom. Poison.*

“Styles got the victory. Oh fucking well. Not here to dwell on that. That’s the beauty of these round robin tournaments. A slip up doesn’t end the world altogether. No need to doubt the goal from coming into fruition. No. I am continuing forward with my form of chaos and ending my next opponent’s chances before he even has the chance.”

*After his words are spoken, we are blinded by a bright light, but it quickly dissipates to normalcy. Directly in front of our field of vision is Zolton. The man of Chaos. He stands still. His arms relaxed at his sides, but his hands behind his back. His body bare and glistens with a layer of moisture. Sweat maybe. His hair damp as well as he only moves when he moves. His face covered by his long, wavy thick hair.*

“This next Evolution show for Championship Wrestling Federation has both blocks battling it out for another step in the direction of supremacy or mediocrity. I find myself at that crossroads. For my goal to remain intact and for my championship aspirations to be fulfilled, a loss in Germany isn’t what I can afford. My foe is one that has yet to achieve any points in this tournament. Another replacement too. Like LeStrange was and I sent your back to the drawing board in hopes of turning things around for her ultimate dream of rescuing the world from whatever shit she found fit enough to rescue it from. Joseph Svenson. A swedish name of sorts. Interesting. A young tot in this business. Only been in it for a cup of coffee. You, Mister Svenson are even younger than I am. Yet you are disgusted with the way this sport, this business is going. Another hero in the midst it seems. What kind of hero might you be Joseph? One of big talk, little action? Just like LeStrange? Going to express a want. A desire to bring back the glory days of this wrestling business? Express all you desire there Svenson, it will only lead to you looking up at the lights with me standing over you in victory.”

*Zolton turns to his right. His body positioning and arm locations remain the same.*

“This business chews up young loud mouths like you Joseph. What do you expect to accomplish with rants. Ravings. Speeches about how this business is sour and needs a shift to the old school? As I see it. This sport has only thrived over the many years in which it has been around. My six plus years in it, there has been so many evolutions. Companies that have recreated the overall brand of wrestling in their own ways. Just like the stars, the wrestlers themselves evolve and change their personas. Hell take myself for example. I came into this business via the local scene back in Washington. A way to escape the pains and dismays of my past. I was already ready to hurt and destroy people. I had the skills. I was trained in them since I was a child. Climbing the ranks was simple. Getting the local federation’s title was easily attained for me. Where did you come from Joseph? A place of fandom? Your mother’s basement? A teenager with more testosterone than you could handle? So many questions with no answers Svenson. Why is that? Because you have no real place in the world. That is the main answer to all those questions. You have no place in this world, so in your misfit mind you thought you could bring your knowledge of the old school to a company where actual wrestlers perform and hurt other wrestlers. You have no base to your skill. Where did you learn wrestling skills? Hell where did you get taught fighting skills?”

*He turns again, this time his back facing us. We can see his hands now. They are clenched into fists just above his butt.*

“Alright I can over this lack of ability or that, but in all honesty, there is no real reason to do so. I’d rather dismantle you inside the ring. Show you how truly weak you are as a boy trying to be a man. You lucked your way into this tournament, I’ll be more than happy sending you out of it with a lot less blood than you arrived into it with. Svenson, your drive is a little all over the place. You want to be great. Yet you want to bring back old school vibes to the world of wrestling. Which is it Joseph? When it comes to these aspirations you can only accomplish one and right now you are failing miserably at the being great part of the equation. I know to your virgin ears, I sound cocky. Arrogant even. You are probably thinking that I shouldn’t feel this type of confidence considering I lost my last battle in the Championship Wrestling Federation ring. That’s the joys of being me Svenson. The man of Chaos. My confidence doesn’t falter. It never waivers. It only climbs. And I know in the near future I will be able to get that loss back. You however have no capability of turning things around for yourself in this tournament. You came to the party late. You’ve failed the battles you were in before arriving at me. I would be apologetic to you for what I will be doing to destroy you on September twenty fourth in Cologne Germany, but I am never apologetic to my victims. You are exactly that Joseph. A victim. One of circumstances you could have avoided. My confidence is high, but my rage is burning even higher.”

*Zolton turns again, this time to face us. His right hand unclenched from the fist, he uses it to comb his hair back revealing his piercing, highly intense blue eyes. His left hand comes to the front as well. He wipes his face leaving a trail of red liquid from his forehead all the way through his beard. Blood. A sinister smile grows beneath his beard as he takes a couple of steps toward us. Our fear rises, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Is this how Joseph is going to feel?*

“Your time is nearly up Svenson. Will you actually work at this craft or will you just jump up from your mother’s basement couch and climb into the ring against me? If you choose that method, I can promise you right now, your life may actually come to an end. Joseph. Screaming all your wants and desires as loud as you can from the highest of rooftops, the highest of mountain peaks will only make you sound like an annoying mosquito. An annoying parasite. One that needs to be eradicated. Guess who will be your extermination Joseph? That’s right. You guessed it. The man of chaos himself. I will torch you, not only verbally, but physically Svenson. After I am through making you cry like the child you truly are, you may not ever want to leave that basement couch again. It is one thing to face me when I am overwhelmingly confident due to my previous battles being won. It is a whole other situation when I am burning with rage from a loss. Like I said, my confidence isn’t cracked. My drive to cause chaos and make the world burn is unwavering. But my rage. Anger. Angst from losing to Styles two weeks ago is more powerful than my confidence.”

*He takes another step toward us. The red liquid he wiped on his face, drips from his hand as he holds it out, palm up. His other hand out, palm down.*

“I am your grim reaper Svenson. You have a choice here. Choose the life of a scared parasite. One that only comes out in just the right conditions. Or you can choose to come at me with all of your annoying wants and desires to save this business. It will only end you fully. I am not going to go easy on you son. I am going to stretch you. Bend you. Break you in half. When all of that is done, I will throw you to the wolves and feed them for once. Your days are numbered Joseph Svenson, the swede from Virginia Beach Virginia. Not only are they numbered in this tournament. They are numbered in your already short life. I feel no empathy or sympathy for you or any other that will face me in the future. My form of chaos will only force you all to see the truth. Zolton is the rightful champion. The only champion that this company deserves. The rest of you are merely slaves to the system. Extras in this chaotic film of action and suspense. Svenson, you are the next victim to be swallowed by the chaos. Styles, I will be gunning for you as well. Embrace the chaos. Or run away. No matter the choice you make, I will be the one you will be spiteful of. Consider this the words of warning to you all. If my words haven’t broke through maybe my actions will.”

*Another step, he raises his palm down hand. Lowers his palm up hand. In one quick, blinding motion he brings them together in a thunderous clap that reverberates in the surroundings all around us. As his palms make contact, our vision goes dark. Our auditory system rings with the echos of the thunderous clap the man of chaos just executed in front of us. After a moment or two, it falls silent.*



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