Post by craig0011 on Sept 27, 2006 19:38:38 GMT -5
“Mr. Ortiz, we’ve been expecting you. Please come in.” Says the woman dressed in the white gown that is hung just past her knees. Zaccheo followed her into a an office. The office had a warm texture to it. It was highly decorated, with a welcoming feel to it. He sat down in front of a business desk and waited for his long time friend and advisor Johnny Stern. “Would you enjoy a glass of water while waiting sir?” The young woman asked. “No thanks, but do you think he will be much longer?” Immediately after finishing his the sentence, Johnny walked into the room. Zaccheo got up from his chair and stepped towards Johnny who had just walked in, but had no idea who he was seeing. Johnny was in the middle of writing down a few things on his clipboard when Zaccheo introduced himself.
“Johnny? It’s me... Zaccheo.” Johnny took his eyes from his paper and focused on Zaccheo. At first he wasn’t sure who it was, then he realized and the two hugged.
“Zacc! Man wow, is that really you, look at yourself. You’ve changed a lot.” Johnny was completely blown away by this point. “So... What have you been up to these days? I mean I heard you got into alcohol and shit. Everything ok now?”
“Yes, everything is great man. I am making my debut in PCW in a few weeks. I was wondering if you could issue some supportive tips or whatever it is you helped me with to cope with my fathers passing.” Johnny proceeded to sit down at his desk, and asked Zaccheo to follow. He ran through the clipboard once more before taking off his glasses and rubbing his hands as if he was in deep thought.
“You know, Zaccheo... I’m not sure whether or not wrestling a time like this is going to really allow you to cope with your fathers passing. I mean, wrestling is just a past time. It’s not going to erase what happened. Zaccheo didn’t let another word slip through Johnny’s mouth. “Hold it right there!” he yelled. “What on earth are you talking about? I am not going to erase my fathers memory from my life, are you an idiot?” Zaccheo’s heart was racing, his mind was running wild and all he could do was look at how dumfounded Johnny was.
“Man? What the fuck are you yelling at me for? I was just saying something completely relevant to your case and you freak at me. I think it’s time for you to go, we will continue this another time.” Zaccheo insisted that he never come back again and left the office; proceeding to his car. He was hot, his mind was still running wild uncontrollably and in all he received no help from the one guy he trusted the most.
“What the hell was he thinking? Trying to take control of me like that?” Zaccheo continued to express himself by self conversation with until he reached his car. He got in and drove off back to his home. From the bottom of the valley you cannot see anything but forestry and sunlight. His house lies beyond the beautiful forests and into the clear. As he kept getting closer and closer to his home he began smelling a horrible stench coming from outside of his car. He stopped his car and checked under the body to make sure nothing was aflame. He new it smelled like smoke, so making sure it wasn’t coming from the vehicle was the main priority at this point. Once he finished looking over his car, he followed the dirt road leading to his magnificent home.
Once he got to the focal point of his house, he saw a flame that looked like it was coming from above his house and into the sky. He was certain it was a tree, but as he got closer he noticed more than one tree were on fire. A large patch of trees were caught in the blaze. He kept his car in park and ran towards the flame making sure nothing had happened to his home. When he turned the corner which made like a dogsleigh, he fell to the ground and what caught his eyes. His house, the beautiful hand made, historic, his fathers past, his memories were going up in smoke. There was almost nothing to the house, nothing more than the garage and a few walls still holding together. The roof had collapsed, and the formation was totally gone. He must have figured that because of how far back he lived from the city, no one would know what was going on. To his estimations, the fire would have been on since early in the morning. It was now 6pm. He rushed back to his car, it was hard just lifting the handle, everything that had just happened was returning him to his past. The times he’d spent with his father and the moments he shared with him all gone. He managed to get it open and call the fire department. For the remaining time he just sat against the front passenger side tire of his 1998 Toyota Supra and matched his memories, his life and his father go up into an external blaze melting and consuming all life Zaccheo had left.
The next morning, Zaccheo awoke from his Supra. He had fallen asleep outside the hotel, and never got to the front door for a room. He wiped a tear that was building in his eye and stumbled out of the car. The pain he felt just then was so monstrous that he could hardly remember his name, the day it was. When he got to the hotel office, they asked him for his name and number, he actually had to look at his own drivers license because his mind had gone completely blank. He had reached a no mind state, which many consider a worship, he considered it a fault in life. He made it up to his room eventually. He didn’t take notice to the surroundings, he just got onto his bed, stretched his legs and eventually fell as sleep.
The next time he got up, it was the next day. He had been in bed for almost an entire day. When he got up, he realized he never wanted to wake up again, so he put a pillow around his head and went back to sleep. This time the next time he woke up it was Tuesday night, the night of Trauma. The alarm clock was in bright red letters, which projected off the wall. It had Tuesday written above the time, and the time said PCW. He rushed from his bed and packed up his things. He piled the bag into his trunk and drove off to the PCW arena.
Once he walked inside he felt a sensation of worry that rumbled through each organ in his body. Everything seemed to be a blur, everyone seemed to look just as worried as he was. It was his natural instincts that drew him closer to the noise deep inside the stadium. There was another foul smell burning into his nostrils. The smell itself made him wonder if he should go any further, but he proceeded anyway. Before the stadium was a metal door, on the door it read PCW. Zaccheo opened the door and as he walked into the area, the smell along with a cloud of foil, musty thick smoke and smog rushed into his lugs and eyes. He was blinded and could hardly breathe. However a light shined, and instantly all of the smoke went away. As the smoke cleared, the light continued to shine on the ring. Everything went black at an instant which created a fairy tale like event. Zaccheo walked towards the ring and stood outside the ring looking down at the canvas. He bagan pulling onto the ropes, followed by slamming his fist on the hard canvas. He decided to go into the ring and circle the area a few times. But once he got inside, he was trapped.
The ring bursted into an uncontrolled body of flames. The ropes began to tear apart as the flames were becoming more powerful by each waking second. The ropes finally snapped, the sound wasn’t loud enough to cause any harm, the radiation coming off the heat was powerful enough to stop most of the sound waves. I tried to shoo the flames away, but to no avail. It was useless. I just crept into the middle of the ring, holding myself with my arms crossed over my shoulders. By this point I was crying. My heart was racing and I felt each beat ringing in my ear. For some reason, the flames began to shorten out. It must have been the fire department. I stood up with my head down looking down into the canvas. When I turned upwards to face the burnt out flame that is when I saw an image of a man walking through the fire. I stepped closer trying to identify who it was. There stood a man dressed with a trench coat that hung down to the ground. His face was hard to picture, but finally I was able to identify him as my opponent; Gravedigger. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, this wasn’t for real, that I was certain. But why this... Why now? Gravedigger was now moving in closer. He didn’t say a single world to me, all he did was look me into the eye and bow his head in respect. Then he vanished into the flame. Upon leaving, he had dropped a note on the ground. It landed in a position that appeared it was intended to be read by me and only me. I picked it up and pealed off the tape surrounding the edge. The words were in read and the note was from an anonymous person.
Upon his departure this note was left for your eyes only. You’ve picked it up just now indicating that you’re curious as to what was contained in this letter. This letter speaks of Gravedigger himself. Gravedigger is your opponent whom you’ll be combating. In time you’ll know whom this note when sent by, but for now he wants you to know something valuable. By the course of Trauma 62, as the world watches, you’ll be leaving the unmarked soul of Striker into his burial ground beneath this ring. The cost of losing your house, was of practical reasons by the typical viewer. However, if you search deeper and deeper you’ll find that it was for a purpose. A clean slate, a fresh start means leaving the memories in your mind and spirit. Not to witness and allow the bad thoughts to enter into your mind just by entering your own home. You’ll see that this was the work done by God, and this work he has done for the betterment of your well being. God does believe in you, as long as you believe in yourself and continue to provide honesty to god when dealing with the issues of your beliefs. He himself will allow you to reach your dreams, you must first take your way to the top and God will direct you there. Gravedigger is a good man yes. But to make it to the top you must first show the world your debut is more than just the standardized view of a debut. You must go out with a spark, and claiming to proceed in the workings of another mans persona and way of defeating people is the perfect way of doing so.
Just before Zaccheo can focus on the last few words a glaze of blue and red lights shine over his eyes. His eyes grow into darkness like the remainder of the room. He falls to an abrupt stop and allows himself to release all energy.
The alarm goes off and Zacchoe jumps up from his bed. There are many strange thoughts protruding around in his head, the only thing he keeps remembering is seeing Gravedigger and the words from the note. The rest is a complete blur. Some of te description from the note don’t help him at all. All Zaccheo can do now is allow what has been sent to him from a power far greater than his own and march with it. It’s a battle greater than any other he’s encountered. But as for right now, his mind seems a bit satisfied and clear. It seems as though the life of “The Majestic” Zaccheo Ortiz is getting underway.
“Johnny? It’s me... Zaccheo.” Johnny took his eyes from his paper and focused on Zaccheo. At first he wasn’t sure who it was, then he realized and the two hugged.
“Zacc! Man wow, is that really you, look at yourself. You’ve changed a lot.” Johnny was completely blown away by this point. “So... What have you been up to these days? I mean I heard you got into alcohol and shit. Everything ok now?”
“Yes, everything is great man. I am making my debut in PCW in a few weeks. I was wondering if you could issue some supportive tips or whatever it is you helped me with to cope with my fathers passing.” Johnny proceeded to sit down at his desk, and asked Zaccheo to follow. He ran through the clipboard once more before taking off his glasses and rubbing his hands as if he was in deep thought.
“You know, Zaccheo... I’m not sure whether or not wrestling a time like this is going to really allow you to cope with your fathers passing. I mean, wrestling is just a past time. It’s not going to erase what happened. Zaccheo didn’t let another word slip through Johnny’s mouth. “Hold it right there!” he yelled. “What on earth are you talking about? I am not going to erase my fathers memory from my life, are you an idiot?” Zaccheo’s heart was racing, his mind was running wild and all he could do was look at how dumfounded Johnny was.
“Man? What the fuck are you yelling at me for? I was just saying something completely relevant to your case and you freak at me. I think it’s time for you to go, we will continue this another time.” Zaccheo insisted that he never come back again and left the office; proceeding to his car. He was hot, his mind was still running wild uncontrollably and in all he received no help from the one guy he trusted the most.
“What the hell was he thinking? Trying to take control of me like that?” Zaccheo continued to express himself by self conversation with until he reached his car. He got in and drove off back to his home. From the bottom of the valley you cannot see anything but forestry and sunlight. His house lies beyond the beautiful forests and into the clear. As he kept getting closer and closer to his home he began smelling a horrible stench coming from outside of his car. He stopped his car and checked under the body to make sure nothing was aflame. He new it smelled like smoke, so making sure it wasn’t coming from the vehicle was the main priority at this point. Once he finished looking over his car, he followed the dirt road leading to his magnificent home.
Once he got to the focal point of his house, he saw a flame that looked like it was coming from above his house and into the sky. He was certain it was a tree, but as he got closer he noticed more than one tree were on fire. A large patch of trees were caught in the blaze. He kept his car in park and ran towards the flame making sure nothing had happened to his home. When he turned the corner which made like a dogsleigh, he fell to the ground and what caught his eyes. His house, the beautiful hand made, historic, his fathers past, his memories were going up in smoke. There was almost nothing to the house, nothing more than the garage and a few walls still holding together. The roof had collapsed, and the formation was totally gone. He must have figured that because of how far back he lived from the city, no one would know what was going on. To his estimations, the fire would have been on since early in the morning. It was now 6pm. He rushed back to his car, it was hard just lifting the handle, everything that had just happened was returning him to his past. The times he’d spent with his father and the moments he shared with him all gone. He managed to get it open and call the fire department. For the remaining time he just sat against the front passenger side tire of his 1998 Toyota Supra and matched his memories, his life and his father go up into an external blaze melting and consuming all life Zaccheo had left.
The next morning, Zaccheo awoke from his Supra. He had fallen asleep outside the hotel, and never got to the front door for a room. He wiped a tear that was building in his eye and stumbled out of the car. The pain he felt just then was so monstrous that he could hardly remember his name, the day it was. When he got to the hotel office, they asked him for his name and number, he actually had to look at his own drivers license because his mind had gone completely blank. He had reached a no mind state, which many consider a worship, he considered it a fault in life. He made it up to his room eventually. He didn’t take notice to the surroundings, he just got onto his bed, stretched his legs and eventually fell as sleep.
The next time he got up, it was the next day. He had been in bed for almost an entire day. When he got up, he realized he never wanted to wake up again, so he put a pillow around his head and went back to sleep. This time the next time he woke up it was Tuesday night, the night of Trauma. The alarm clock was in bright red letters, which projected off the wall. It had Tuesday written above the time, and the time said PCW. He rushed from his bed and packed up his things. He piled the bag into his trunk and drove off to the PCW arena.
Once he walked inside he felt a sensation of worry that rumbled through each organ in his body. Everything seemed to be a blur, everyone seemed to look just as worried as he was. It was his natural instincts that drew him closer to the noise deep inside the stadium. There was another foul smell burning into his nostrils. The smell itself made him wonder if he should go any further, but he proceeded anyway. Before the stadium was a metal door, on the door it read PCW. Zaccheo opened the door and as he walked into the area, the smell along with a cloud of foil, musty thick smoke and smog rushed into his lugs and eyes. He was blinded and could hardly breathe. However a light shined, and instantly all of the smoke went away. As the smoke cleared, the light continued to shine on the ring. Everything went black at an instant which created a fairy tale like event. Zaccheo walked towards the ring and stood outside the ring looking down at the canvas. He bagan pulling onto the ropes, followed by slamming his fist on the hard canvas. He decided to go into the ring and circle the area a few times. But once he got inside, he was trapped.
The ring bursted into an uncontrolled body of flames. The ropes began to tear apart as the flames were becoming more powerful by each waking second. The ropes finally snapped, the sound wasn’t loud enough to cause any harm, the radiation coming off the heat was powerful enough to stop most of the sound waves. I tried to shoo the flames away, but to no avail. It was useless. I just crept into the middle of the ring, holding myself with my arms crossed over my shoulders. By this point I was crying. My heart was racing and I felt each beat ringing in my ear. For some reason, the flames began to shorten out. It must have been the fire department. I stood up with my head down looking down into the canvas. When I turned upwards to face the burnt out flame that is when I saw an image of a man walking through the fire. I stepped closer trying to identify who it was. There stood a man dressed with a trench coat that hung down to the ground. His face was hard to picture, but finally I was able to identify him as my opponent; Gravedigger. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, this wasn’t for real, that I was certain. But why this... Why now? Gravedigger was now moving in closer. He didn’t say a single world to me, all he did was look me into the eye and bow his head in respect. Then he vanished into the flame. Upon leaving, he had dropped a note on the ground. It landed in a position that appeared it was intended to be read by me and only me. I picked it up and pealed off the tape surrounding the edge. The words were in read and the note was from an anonymous person.
Upon his departure this note was left for your eyes only. You’ve picked it up just now indicating that you’re curious as to what was contained in this letter. This letter speaks of Gravedigger himself. Gravedigger is your opponent whom you’ll be combating. In time you’ll know whom this note when sent by, but for now he wants you to know something valuable. By the course of Trauma 62, as the world watches, you’ll be leaving the unmarked soul of Striker into his burial ground beneath this ring. The cost of losing your house, was of practical reasons by the typical viewer. However, if you search deeper and deeper you’ll find that it was for a purpose. A clean slate, a fresh start means leaving the memories in your mind and spirit. Not to witness and allow the bad thoughts to enter into your mind just by entering your own home. You’ll see that this was the work done by God, and this work he has done for the betterment of your well being. God does believe in you, as long as you believe in yourself and continue to provide honesty to god when dealing with the issues of your beliefs. He himself will allow you to reach your dreams, you must first take your way to the top and God will direct you there. Gravedigger is a good man yes. But to make it to the top you must first show the world your debut is more than just the standardized view of a debut. You must go out with a spark, and claiming to proceed in the workings of another mans persona and way of defeating people is the perfect way of doing so.
Just before Zaccheo can focus on the last few words a glaze of blue and red lights shine over his eyes. His eyes grow into darkness like the remainder of the room. He falls to an abrupt stop and allows himself to release all energy.
The alarm goes off and Zacchoe jumps up from his bed. There are many strange thoughts protruding around in his head, the only thing he keeps remembering is seeing Gravedigger and the words from the note. The rest is a complete blur. Some of te description from the note don’t help him at all. All Zaccheo can do now is allow what has been sent to him from a power far greater than his own and march with it. It’s a battle greater than any other he’s encountered. But as for right now, his mind seems a bit satisfied and clear. It seems as though the life of “The Majestic” Zaccheo Ortiz is getting underway.