''sudden extinction'' |o2|

[ZilusZion]

The scene instigates off the sight of Zilus Zion trekking in a thirteen meter single pattern; walking back and forth inside his private locker room with his left hand hoisted beneath his chin. Contemplative, focused and more so in profound thought with the way his bare slit of eyes stare down at the burnt sienna carpet. As he drags the rear hems of his crimson trench coat, he twists back to glance at the camera with his hand slapped to the side of his waist.

ZILUS ZION: "Jordan Cut. Just so you know, when I heard you cut your promo -- I couldn't help but interpret it like if it were the sound of diarrhea plopping inside a fuckin' toilet. I hardly if anything, grasped any meaning whatsoever to what you had to say there. Hell, my sharp ears couldn't take in anything rational that could make me think for a second. So I figured, maybe you were right in something pertaining to your stupid little gimmick. You 'cut me off' alright, but in coherent communication with you. You found my 'weakness' by lacerating my mind with the purest form of stupidity that's left me thinking for the past few hours, on why the fuck will I even bother indulging you with some of my time when it's clear you're a hopeless example of human deterioration. Meaning, you're bullshit."

Zilus twirls around his posture once more, resuming his contemplative walk once more.

ZILUS ZION: "But then there's that other factor. The pride in me I try to preserve as a warrior. That pride of a wrestler that disables me from ignoring you and whatever caveman lingo you may have spewed back there. It doesn't put my mind to peace, to think and know what kind of absurdity and blasphemy you were spitting your gums about. I am not one to take any of it lightly, let alone allow you to feel like you are on top of the world because I didn't retort. Oh no, Carter, I like to level arguments and put vane parasites like you in their place. Underneath my boot, in every accountable way possible."

He shoots a brow up, pausing for just a moment as he curves a smile to lean on one side.

ZILUS ZION: "So I hired a translator. Well, more like I coerced someone to translate what you said."

Zilus jerks his hand over to his mouth, slithering his fingers inside his lips in specific motion to expel out a loud whistle. As soon as it goes off, over by the locker room door enters SEF referee -- Steve Whitmore -- with Tori Adams pushing him from behind. And doing so with the smile of a vicious cunt that looks to have played someone in a twisted way.

TORI ADAMS: "Here he is."

ZILUS ZION: "Jordan, you know Steve Whitmore, correct? The same referee that will be of guard to our match and call it how it is. He will tell me exactly how it is with you and your guttural way of speaking."

With Whitmore at the center of the camera, uneasy alongside Zilus, the blonde diva scurries over to the Leader of Misdemeanor's right shoulder to lean her arms against it. Keeping herself close to him with giggles from time to time.

STEVE WHITMORE: "Well, Zilus. From what I know, Jordan says he's going to kick your ass mainly. He believes you think you're too high of yourself and speak only crap. And I know you may not like this, but he says you have a fine girl that will dump you for him when she realizes just how cool he is."

Zilus shifts his head away from Whitmore in a sardonic yet lazy roll of eyes, to face Tori with a languid shake of head. He neither seemed phased or worried about what had been said, if anything, garnering Tori's kinky grin only fortified his trust in her. Seeing how her lips puckered toward him, there was not even the slightest chance she even acknowledged the existence of one 'Jordan Cut.'

ZILUS ZION: "Oh Lord. Are you hearing this, Tor?"

TORI ADAMS: "Hearing what?"

ZILUS ZION: "Exactly."

He swathes his arm around her shoulder, holding her closely as he turns his head back toward the lens of the camera.

ZILUS ZION: "See, Jordan Cut. Amid your frail attempts to find a chink in my armor, maybe even tick me off at a slight degree to throw me off my game -- you still fail. For certain, you like to vocalize a hypocritical statement about someone talking a lot of crap when that's precisely what you have been doing. You like to assume that you're some rod, cool guy, because you wear your mama's shades and have the look of a wanna-be Marlon Brando, but besides the whole act -- you're just a pathetic nobody striving to be someone else. You're another one of those many talents that come and go, never amounting to anything special because you lack both the wit and the aptitude that people like I have to accomplish."

Frame of the camera closes in on Zilus and Tori only.

ZILUS ZION: "You want to be me, Jordan. You want to have my girl, you want to carry out the same vows I can and be looked upon as grand. But you're not getting anything by believing that you're Johnny Bravo. You don't have the capacity to wrestle me let alone hold a candle. What you are is a misguided sheep trekking in prohibited territory, in search for a holy grail that may as well be considered a .0000000 out of one-hundred chance of a miracle. You're basking yourself in expectations and fictitious beliefs you won't fulfill even with a lifetime of hardship. What happens to people like you Cut, is the same that happened to the species that fail to adapt to a new situation and environment. Sudden extinction."

His hands slither down around Tori's waist, still skidding down toward her ass and grabbing onto each cheek to evoke a playful groan out of Tori.

ZILUS ZION: "So take a look at this magnificence, you delusional shit. Because between where you waste your time now from where I am currently, is the closest you will ever get to having a life like this. You're a born spectator to someone else's glory, while I am a forged champion of your suffering."

Grinning, he plants a quick kiss at Tori before closing his eyes in a narrowed glare at the camera.

ZILUS ZION: "Welcome to Ex Nihilo. Where out of the nothingness that you are, I carve myself yet another win."

Fin.