''ares'' |o1|

[ZilusZion]

Not often do people have heart in them to stare into the small black eyes that Zilus Zion possesses. They either want to steer clear from that deadpan look, or those that encumber his life. Because meshing with his mere existence only leads to disaster -- almost as if bringing in a catastrophic cyclone into a city with expectation that it will only hug modern architecture when it really won't. It will devour, demolish and throw bits and pieces of its remainders to the wind. Scattering above repair.

This is the cruelty and malevolent intention that reeks in his eyes when they open. That is what he sees when he looks at you. He sees you vulnerable, and a chink in your armor that he lusts to expose. A methodical and instinctive predator with long talons to hurt you with in various different forms.

He is Zilus Zion. Escape Artist. Illusionist. Tori Adams' fucker.

SEF's Cerebral Ravager.

***

The scene begins with Zilus Zion taking a seat by a desolated staircase, lounging back with one of his elbows depressed over an edge and the grin of the Cheshire cat. That's just part of the brashness he currently reeks in, because where he rests his other hand is what really dictates this scene. Scouring blonde hair -- Tori's locks -- with his fingers as she propels her head forward and back by the area of his crotch. Her hands? Evidently holding onto his pole, but because the back of her head is mostly at view -- not much explicit content to show to the SEF audience. It's overshadowed, but not to him.

ZILUS ZION: "You know what really blows?" He instigates with a chuckle, momentarily turning his eyes down at Tori. "And I am not referring to my Barbie doll, here. I am referring to being part of a dysfunctional team that has little or no feats whatsoever to work as a unit. I am also relating to having to pit your trust at a total stranger that may or not be as equally motivated as you; maybe having an anchor that pulls you down to the depths instead of a crane that lifts you up when you tumble."

Amid the slurping sound emitting from Tori, Zilus directs both of his hands towards the side of her long hair, tugging back at it. Forcing a gurgled moan from her.

ZILUS ZION: "Because when you're told to rely on someone who really doesn't know who the fuck they are -- Kasey Winterborn -- you're walking on the razor's edge bound to get cut. You're just prolonging the inevitable by attempting to fight a battle you can't win even if the odds stack at your favor. Fact of the matter is, if you don't have chemistry let alone some sort of credibility or trust in whom you're going to partner up with, you're not going to succeed. It's like merging an alkane with fire expecting it to form a good fusion instead of finding a viable chemical solution -- it explodes."

He snickers, watching Tori's eyes glance up at him with a bit of humor in them.

ZILUS ZION: "Take a look at the music industry's greatest duos. McCartney and Lennon, Richards and Jagger, Rose and Slash, Bon Jovi and Sambora, Lee Roth and Van Halen -- just to name a few archetypes of eminence. They conjured up masterpieces, audio work of art, and inspirational tales for the masses to come in future generations. 'Tis people that shared a similar vision, and most importantly, collaborated with unrestrained interest. Now, that's just how Miss Tori and I are. Two peas in a pot with a unanimous goal to rid the SEF off Fakey Winterborn. She'd tell you herself personally, but right now she's got her mouth full of me."

His grin broadens, plunging one of his hands toward her chin to elevate her head slightly up. Tori then heaves her hands over to the top of his curved knees, pulling at them as she continues to bob her head.

ZILUS ZION: "But it's fine. Where I am going with all of this anyways isn't exclusively related to the socially deranged cunt anyways. It's about her team with Shane Enshit -- or whatever his name -- come War '99. A team without a virtue, a strategy, let alone a single focus to come out thriving. What I see is two conjoined Siamese twins, victims of unfortunate circumstances, trying to go at a different direction yet only hurting themselves. Stuck together but not really doing the best to live with the condition."

Zilus continues to caress Tori's cheek, emitting a groan along the way.

ZILUS ZION: "What makes me say that is partially due to the fact that you don't know each other. You haven't crossed a single word let alone wouldn't if this match hadn't come to pass. Hell, I don't think Enstick even gives a flying fuck about teaming with ol' delusional bitch. So coming to grip that, both Tori and I are way a 'head' of this match in the sense that we already established ourselves as a pack. We have evolved from that random shake of hands to an interconnection of power. Not only do we have the advantage in the teamwork aspect, but we have the conjoined individual skill and the momentum to waltz into WAR as prospective winners."

His hands skid over to the back of her neck, forcefully forcing her to deep throat.

ZILUS ZION: "This is basic, common sense to the SEF Universe. You're the leading architects of your own defeat and nothing short of it when you don't have each other's back. What isn't relatively common and known, is that Zilus Zion isn't just a new name with a face. No, oft I get considered this 'boy toy' when really it's just a thick layer of stereotype. A mask that shields my true identity and what I really am by nature. Thus far, you can paint me as a follower to this great ass-" He says, smacking Tori's ass to coerce a groan out of her. "But only in time will you realize and come to grips with the true feats that make me -- me. Time is after all, of the essence."

Camera closes in on his deadpan stare, shrouded by shade around his eyes that cloak his gleams. Leaving only blackness in them.

ZILUS ZION: "See, I have been around the world, stepping ground on every single continent for as long as twenty-years. I have been performing since I was at my early sevens; a prodigy to competition and pressuring performances. I have swathed myself with gold and awards of recognition that amounts to as much hair as Shane has on his head. It's not due to the fact that I lollygagged most of the time like I am now, but because I have a higher acumen that most people I come to fight. I have more expertise and distinction; a third-eye instinct to see and know what to do in a moment's come. In brief description, I am Ares -- a living deity of War."

As he says that, we hear Tori zipping Zilus' pants back on and getting up to her feet shortly before the camera catches sight of her sitting by his lap. Leaning her head slightly beneath his chin to ogle the camera with that pleased smirk.

ZILUS ZION: "Shane, Fakey Winterborn-" He grins, swathing an arm around Tori's shoulder. "Enjoy breathing as comfortable as you can while it lasts, because we are going to asphyxiate you both like ash did to Pompeii. And then we will make shells out of what you were formally to show the rest of the SEF that there is a new reckoning unfolding within this business. Something you can't as easily sell short with poise that you can stop, because then you're going to be as detached from reality as Fakey Winterborn before being smacked down to Earth with defeat. Fact of the matter is, you're already blindly treading in our new era."

Tori shifts her eyes away from Zilus and toward the camera, slapping her tongue along her bottom lips. Still tasting what she just had in her mouth, evidently. And it only made her grin as she thought about it.

TORI ADAMS: "Hardcore Sex Appeal and Leader of Misdemeanor only means we're going to fuck before we crush you under our feet -- and after for a winning celebration."

And just like that, the scene fades in with a shared chuckle from SEF's new duo.