Slowly, the scene opened up into a dimly lit night. The moon shone down thinly through the heavy set of clouds overhead. The traffic along the streets was thin and sparse, being it almost 1 in the morning on Gilman Street, in Berkeley, California. The families and couples and singles had already made their exits to their own homes, each ready to settle down for the night. But, there was one . . .
Slowly, the view shifted down Gilman Street. Past the legendary punk rock club the city was known for, the view passed. Sliding past the Gilman apartments, the view came to a slow rest. Not directly on the apartments, but the two dumpsters set out almost onto the curb, beside the apartments. The two dumpsters, that rested at the entrance to the dead-end alley on Gilman . . . known as the Gilman alley. Known, for the history is has shown in the past, it's presence that has warned off people from entering into it . . . known, as the place that HE refers to as home . . .
Slowly, the view faded out . . .
Appearing slowly, as the partial light shown in to the crevices and cracks of the walls, the view faded in. Not with an exact idea of where exactly the view was, though. The partial moonlight reflected down into the four walls. Brick walls . . . cracked, uneven . . . a complete disregard when they were first assembled, obviously. But, that wasn't the focus . . .
The ground, the floor, whatever it would be called, could be seen in the corner, where the partial moonlight was shining in at the best. Clutter, trash . . . but a feeling of organization could be sensed through the chaos. Like, everything was in it's place for a reason. Not because of idle disregard, but more for, the fact of it representing and mimicking the mind of the person who had arranged it to begin with.
From further down, away from the partial moonlight shining down, a cloud of smoke arose. Thin, but the grey obvious against the black of the night. They came in intervals, every minute or so. The smoke of a cigarette. Someone rested inside of the shadow, back away from the partial moonlight that shown in on the other side.
From the shadow, at first just a whisper, a voice began to speak.
" The beginning of a new direction. The beginning, but far from the conclusion of what has led up to it. For some's opinion, it was an end that some never thought they would see. For others, it was a beginning that was never expected to happen. For me, it was a continuation of what has led up to what will happen later on . . .
Zero
" The questions arise. The answers will be explained when they are needed. But, for now, ever since Primetime, it is now known. I have come to the CSWA . . . "
Suddenly, a match was lit. Tossed, as soon as it was lit. The flame cut through the darkness, before disappearing inside of a then-unseen garbage can. And suddenly, as the match caught on to something inside of the metal garbage can, a burst of flames erupted.
With that, the once shadow filled, dark surroundings, were filled with light from the fire. Characteristics that were once in question, were then instantly visible. The cracks of the walls, the garbage and clutter that was now apparant throughout the ground, the loading crates, stacked in the far corner . . . the outlook of the Gilman alley. Through the help of the firelight, everything was at least partially visible, at least up to the turn of the alley. The turn, where . . . a figure stood . . .
The cloud of cigarette smoke left off from the figure. The light from the fire, although bouncing shadows off his figure, shown his descriptions. Standing at 6' 1", 231 pounds, he stood against the darkness. His hair, colored a dark, solid color of black, with the tips being bleached almost ghostly white, rested in short, frantic spikes across his head. His face was adorned with piercings. Three ear-rings in his left ear, two in his right. His right eyebrow had a straight piercing through it, as well as a loop was pierced on the lower right side of his lip.
He raised his right arm, bringing the cigarette once again to his mouth. As he raised his arm, the tattoos that ran up his right arm became visible. A spider web tattoo on the elbow, followed by a row of scattered stars, leading into a variety of other tattoos, that ran up his right arm.
He exhaled the smoke slowly, the view panning out, catching his entire look, as the smoke dissolved into the air. A black t-shirt, bearing the name of the punk band "Bad Religion". Tan cargo pants, cut off at the calves. The frays led down almost onto his shoes, low top Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars. His wrists, each with a bracelet attached to it. On the left wrist, a single stack of a studded short bracelet. On the right, a multiple designed series of studs enblazoned onto the bracelet.
It was but one man. It was Zero.
Looking off, past the fire, past the haze of the smoke that had builf up to his left, he sighed. Taking a gaze that was off of the general direction of the direct view, slowly inhaling another drag from his cigarette, he began to speak again.
" With every dramatic ending, every climax that builds to the grand showdown, there is always a backdrop, a build up, that explains why the things that happened, happened. Not only does it provide for enjoyment for the viewing audience, but it explains why everything happened. It provides a reason for the audience to pay their money for the program they have just viewed.
Zero
" But my life isn't a script played out in a theatre! There are no parts played out, with each man going home to a loving family at the end of the day. This is my life! More depressing than some would wish to even view. More graphic than some would even dare listen to. But, sometimes, your life becomes a source of enjoyment. And sometimes, the truth is indeed stranger than fiction. "
Slowly, Zero began to walk forward. Towards the corner, against the moving crates stacked against the ground and nestled into the corner of the cracked walls.
He turned, and slowly, sat down onto the crates, resting his back against the crates in the corner. Inhaling the last drag possible from his cigarette, he flipped the remaining butt off into the shadows. The flicker of the ashes being cast away lit up the dark part of the alley, but only briefly.
Inhaling a deep breath of fresh air, gazing off, Zero began to speak again.
" Alone. A source of ridicule, for the enjoyment of others. My life growing up. Not the merry and rose colored life of the other kids who I grew up with. No, more of a life of darkness, anger . . . and eventual retribution onto those who done me wrong.
Zero
" It wasn't that I didn't fit in. It was that I wasn't accpeted. My past, a past that was out of my control, set me out apart from the others growing up. And so, at the age of 14, I fought back. I fought back against the hatred and blind rage that others had against me. And, in turn, they had to deal with the monster they had created. They couldn't contain me. They only chose to avoid me. Leaving me . . . further into the darkness than before. My childhood . . . spent in this alley. This alley, that, even to today, has been and always be my only true home, for it has never turned on me. A true friend. "
Looking around slowly at the walls and clutter that surrounded him, Zero shifted in his sitting position. He raised his left knee, resting his arm onto it.
" It wasn't until late February of this year, that a source of ventilation came my way. In a fight at a bar here in Berkeley, I fought a man. A man who did not know when to shut his mouth. His references to me, to the people in the bar. He asked for it. And I gave it. A fight, as we fought throughout the bar. A fight, in which I beat him in the end. And, a fight that led as an entrance into my first look at professional wrestling, being the HEW.
Zero
" A wrestler from there happened to see me in the fight, and discussed with me a way out for me. A large bill was in store for the damage to the bar. And hence, I took the guy up on his offer, and signed a small contract with the HEW, only to be able to pay back the bartender for the damages that I had caused. That was my intentions. If only I had knew then . . .
" My first match. And my opponent, a fellow newcomer to the wrestling world. But, one thing I had, was a past of always using my surroundings to my advantage. And so, I did in the match. Some may call it being 'Hardcore.' But all I knew, was that was how I fought in the match. A moonsault balcony jump through a table was the end to the match. I secured a victory in my first match. And at that moment, I began to start to understand what I had gotten myself into. A way to ventilate the anger that had built up inside of me for all of the years of being the whipping boy for all of the kids, my peers, for so long. And, it was then that I realized, that maybe, I could actually fit in somewhere. The wrestling world. "
Reaching down into his pocket, Zero pulled out the back of cigarettes. Retreiving a cigarette, he lit it, taking a deep drag. He held it in for a brief time, before slowly exhaling the smoke into the air and shadows that the fire was putting forth onto everything.
Looking up, aloof, his eyes tightened. Focusing, thinking . . . remembering. He slowly brought his head down, his voice showing more strain, as he once again began to speak.
" I worked my way up the ranks. My perserverance was something new to me. I actually had a goal for a change in life. Something to shoot for, something to strive for. Something that wrapped up my life in just a few words. Something, that I took more meaning into than anyone before my time, and more than anyone will after I am gone for good. It was a title, an accomplishment, known as the Hardcore title.
Zero
" To some, the act of being hardcore would be just to hit and bash someone with as many objects possible in a set span of time, before one man is simply left unable to compete in the match. But I think, and know, otherwise. It is not that. It is a lifestyle. It is a way of thinking and doing things. It is making due with what you are given, and improvising, using your surroundings to your advantage. It was, and is, my life. Not being given much, but making due and making something out of it. And, to me, that was what the title represented.
" The biggest match of my career. A match for the Hardcore title. Blood and pain was there constantly in the match, but that was how I wanted it. That was how I had learned to grow and survive in life. I couldn't want anything different. And that was the outcome, as I walked away from the match with the Hardcore title. My first dream, ever, in life, fulfilled. "
Slowly, he inhaled a drag from his cigarette. His facial expression was that of almost happiness. A grim smile almost managed to crack his lips as he exhaled the smoke.
But, gazing back off at nothing certain, he began to speak once again.
" I defended that title like it was my life. It was a connection of me. A way to show what I represented. A way to show that I would do anything possible to survive. A way to proove that I had accomplished something, for once, in life.
Zero
" The tide of a new found pride escalated for me. For, it was during that time, that I first met . . . Karen. The only person that I have ever met to this day, that actually truly understanded me. The only person that would actually listen to me, as I would her. She was for me. She . . . she was the one person who I have loved during this life.
" It seemed things were finally turning for the better. I was holding a title that I considered a part of me. Something that I would never let go under any normal circumstances.
" And, I had a girl who was there for me. Someone who I could finally trust in this life that has always seemed to keep hope and happiness far from my grasp. For once, I felt as if I had finally escaped the system, and fought through to find the light at the end of the tunnel.
" It was only then, that I was shown the truth, that that I always knew, but wanted to forget, that there is always a grim side to every happy story. And, it came for me. Everything that I had acheived . . . thrown away by the cruel and selfish game that life plays! "
The expression on Zero's face suddenly turned dark. His eyes tightened, holding back the anger that was still evident in him. His lips, far from the almost smile he had almost had just moments ago, were tightened.
His head lowered, his hands running through his spiked hair. The memories, the terrible memories, came pouring into his mind. The heartache, the anger, the betrayal . . . everything . . .
" I was framed! Three years before, a triple murder happened in Berkeley. The bodies were found in this alley. But, the killer was never found. And then, the case had been dropped . . .
Zero
" But, it was reopened earlier this May. And evidence, and lies, pointed to ME as the killer. Circumstancial evidence, only the fact that I spend my time in this alley, led people to believe that I was the killer from three years ago. And, immediately, a warrant was put out for my arrest.
" What could I do? I didn't kill anyone. People have always turned their back to me, but it was never my fault. I fought back, but never fought without a purpose. And now, the people of Berkeley were pointing their fingers at me as the killer. But could I just stand around? With the people running the city, being the same people who I had grew up with, and those people who hated me simply for the reason that I was different growing up. What could I do, but escape?!
" It was the hardest thing I have ever done, as I made a videocassette. A camera, set on record, as I told J-Smooth, the president of HEW, what had just happened, and why i had to . . . vacate . . . my Hardcore title. It was the worst thing I ever had to do. But, I couldn't actively compete in the HEW, as long as the police were after me.
" But, the hardest thing to do, was having to leave Karen. I tried to get in touch with her. I tried to contact her. But I couldn't get anything. I couldn't find her. And, my time was limited. I had to, as well, say my temporary goodbyes to her. I knew I would be back, but I didn't know when. And that . . . was the stake to the heart for me.
" I left the tape in a locker room, propped against the Hardcore title, as I set off. It was the best I could do. I had to leave . . . "
Slowly, Zero raised his head. The darkness in his eyes . . . the lifeless expression on his face . . . those memories were hard. Slowly, he inhaled a long, deep drag from his cigarette. Holding it in for the longest amount of time, he slowly let it out as he laid his head back against the crate.
Staring up, into what starts were visible in the clouded sky, he sighed. A sigh of being tired . . . tired of the constant loosing hands that he had been dealt in life. Slowly, he continued his remembrance of those dark times.
" For two months, I evaded the police. Living in my Blazier, watching it as the wear and tear of constant moving not only affected the vehicle, but me, as well. I noticed it clearly in the second month, as, that was when, I was finally caught.
Zero
" I was brought back to Berkeley, and placed in jail. My head was shaved, and I was issued the fatigue clothes of a criminal. Something, that I never was. And then, my trial. I knew it was over. Who would defend me? Who did I know who actually believed in me? No one . . . that I knew of.
" Which, to my surprise, I was found not-guilty in the trial. All of the evasion, all of the unwarranted accusations, only to end in being set free. But, did they really set me free?
" No. For, they had acheived and accomplished the act of setting my life back to where I was before I ever joined the HEW . . . . . alone. "
Slowly, Zero raised himself up, drawing both of his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He took one last drag from his cigarette, and then flipped the remaining of it into the metal garbage can that continued to burn away in the alley.
Taking a few quick breaths, he sighed once again. The memories . . .
" I went back to the HEW, a stranger. I had to restart my career. But worse, I couldn't find Karen. I tried to call her, but the line was disconnected. I went to the apartment, but there was no one living in it any more. It was as if . . . she ceased to exist anymore. And that, was worse than any childhood prank or fight that I had ever gotten into. That . . . was when I realized that life would never be able to reach the point of where it was before I was framed.
Zero
" I tried to put it behind me, face it as facts of life. Life, that ceased to quit playing the horrorable pranks on me. And so, I pushed forward in the HEW, trying to reestablish who I once was in the federation.
" It was then that a certain person became apparant in the HEW. Someone who would try to cause more hecticness than anything that could of happened in my childhood. He goes by the name of Havoc.
" What would start out as a fight for not being controlled by him, as he was the acting commissioner, soon turned into a feud that neither of us would walk away from. And soon, it came down to a match in the ring, just to proove who was the better man after the series of vocal battles we had went through. But, it was then, he unveiled the hidden Ace that I never suspected.
" During our inpromptu match, the person, the one person who understood me in life, came back to ringside. Karen! In my corner, in my battle against Havoc. A definate sign, for me, that maybe, things could get better. But, never go by first impressions . . .
" At the end of the match, with me about to pin Havoc after throwing him through a table, it was then that Karen entered the ring. But, to my shock and horror, not in support of . . . me. As she hit me in the back with a chair, it was then . . . as I turned, staring into her eyes, that I realized . . . even Karen, the one and only person who believed and understood me, had, too, turned her back on me.
" As Havoc came back, and he and Karen began to beat me with the metal chairs, I realized then, that I truly was yet again . . . alone . . . in this world.
" Over the course of the next few weeks and months, Karen expressed her anger towards me. How I had left her to survive while I evaded the police. But, if she only knew that that was the last thing I wanted to do to her. I had no choice! I had no choice! But, I couldn't make her see my side. She was with Havoc now, the man who had been there for her in her moment of dispair. In the moment when it seemed to her that I had walked out on her. In the moment, when BOTH of our lives were at their lowest.
" The war between Havoc and I seemed to come to a close, with a violent injury I suffered from being knocked off of a ladder, falling chin first to the canvas. I was out for weeks, when most people would of retired from the injury. But, it was the simple fact of who had done the injury to me, that pushed me, and made me drive, for the sweet retribution that I needed to repay him with. "
Sitting up, staring ahead, Zero's expression was cold. Iced over. A glazed stare. The memories came back as pented up anger. Thoughts of the vengeance that pushed him for all of those weeks. Havoc, stealing Karen. Havoc, trying to steal everything from Zero. Havoc, trying to ruin Zero's career with a neck injury. The haunting realization that Havoc might have succeeded . . . might have.
" I couldn't let Havoc beat me. He had already tried to beat me mentally so many times. A physical injury would be the least that he could do to me. And that was why, at the next PPV, in his title defense match, I re-arrived, to be his nightmare.
Zero
" The conclusion to his match, I shown up. And, going off of a ladder, I grabbed his neck, executing the Level Zero on him through a table. And then, retribution was served. For, Havoc has yet to appear in my path since then. I do not know of where he is now, but I do know, that the anger and frustration that he had given to me, was given back to him on that night. "
Slowly, Zero arose from his seated position. Shaking his legs somewhat, he began to walk over to the fire in the can. Warming his hands, he looked up, into the sky. The clouds had started to thin out, as the stars began to show clear in the sky.
Looking off at the alley surrounding him, one last sigh passed over him. Yes, life had been unusually cruel. Tricks and deceptions played. But, could things be different?
" But, that is my past, a past that hurts to even think back on. Memories that hurt to even recollect on. But, looking forward, my career now turns to the CSWA. A league full of people who I am familiar with. But, a league foreign to me as well. How will things happen? What will happen? What circumstance will come up? Only time will tell. "
Zero
Reaching into his pocket, and retrieving a cigarette, Zero lit it. Inhaling a quick, short drag, he blew the smoke up into the smoke the fire was giving off. Thick, blending, but definately it's own type of smoke inside of the immensely dense cloud of smoke. But, it had the individual characteristic of cigarette smoke.
" But, I am still the same person. I am still Zero. If I am still unable to be accepted amongst the people of the CSWA, I will carve out my own nique. But, I will make my presence felt. I always have, whether if it was the way I would of chosen, or the way that circumstances unfolded onto me.
Zero
" One thing is certain, though. I am here, and I have not changed. Only now, there are new faces thrown into the melting pot which is known as professional wrestling. "
Inhaling one last drag from his cigarette, he tossed the remainder into the garbage can. Then turning, he slowly started walking back towards the shadow of the alley. Towards the twist of the alley, leading out into Gilman Street. He took one last look at the fire, burning strong, it's smoke rising up into the night sky. Then, turning once again, and putting his hands into his pocket, he began the walk through the shadows. The shadows of the Gilman alley.
midi: "Infected" by Bad Religion
