Post by amyzing on Jan 10, 2013 20:07:56 GMT -4
::Night has fallen. The stars are out and the pale light of the moon shines down on a field. There are few trees with the field. Crickets chirp somewhere in the darkness. Another sound can be heard. It is the sound of metal against grass and dirt, the sound of someone digging a hole.::
::In the open field, in a shallow hole, a shovel once again, breaks into the ground. A boot steps on it, pushing it deeper into the earth. The shovel rises, dumping another load of dirt out of the hole.::
::Amy Zing is digging. With the exception of her boots, she is dressed in white. White sweat pants and a white shirt, the color Chinese culture uses for funerals . Her clothes are dirty, due to digging this hole, whatever purpose it may serve. On the ground above the hole is her jian, unsheathed and sticking into the ground. The pale moonlight faintly illuminates the blade of “the Gentleman of weapons”, as the jian is named in Chinese folklore. Near the jian are what appear to be two long wooden planks. There is a large pile of dirt at end of the hole.::
::She is sweating, showing that she has been here for awhile. She stops digging, resting the shovel in the ground and leaning against it. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve.::
“Let me get this straight, just to make sure I understand it. Your girlfriend was assaulted in the ring some time ago. You are angry that none of the fans, who can be ejected and even arrest or put in a situation where they could sue the APW, jumped the guardrail to help. You are angry that none of the people in the back, the announcers, cameramen, sound technicians, ring crew or anyone else in the building that night helped. Now, rather than go after those responsible, you attack me.”
::For a moment, she looks a little confused and shocked.::
“You realize how little sense that makes don’t you?”
“I was not a member of the APW when that happened. I was not in the audience when it happened. I was not even in the same city as the incident when it happened. So how does it make sense that you somehow take this out on me?”
::“The Hong Kong Sensation” sighs in frustration. It seems more a frustration at herself than anything else.::
“I’m too nice.”
::She ends her break, returning to her digging of the hole. She does not look at anything other than
“I admit it, I’m a nice person. It’s just how I am. I don’t see a need to be a jerk or arrogant. I try to be a nice, honest, humble, honorable person, and I would like to think I manage to do that.”
“I like being friendly. I like getting to know people and actually talking to them. I will pose for a photograph or stop and sign an autograph or chat with my fans, because that‘s the person I am. This also makes people think they can take advantage of me or that I will simply brush off any slight against me.”
::She keeps digging, piling dirt up. This does not seem to be a hole for planting a tree or some such thing. It appears to be a bit larger and meant for a less than pleasant purpose..::
“If Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie had simply just jumped me to make a point, then that would have been acceptable. That would have been within what is acceptable within wrestling. He and I would probably just have had a match to try and settle things. This was not that case.”
::The look in the eyes of Amy Zing is something that has never been seen there before. It wasn’t there when she and Aubrey Parker had their war of a match. It is a hate filled anger. There is no joy or her usual tone in her voice, only the hate and anger.::
“No. You two had to insult my dream, demean me, tell me I would be better off as a “bottom bitch” and then throw money at me as if I was a cheap whore.”
::She takes a moment to stop digging the hole and glances, almost glares, into the camera.
“This is a matter of honor.”
::She turns back to her digging and brings up another shovelful of dirt, adding it to the growing pile.::
“The most important lesson my parents taught me, the one thing they instilled in me practically from birth was honor and its value. It is not just some abstract concept to value one’s worthiness and respectability. Even criminals, street gangs and the various mobs have a code of honor. To me, my honor is everything.”
“I am the person I am because of the value I place on honor.”
::She keeps digging. Each shovelful brings her deeper. Each shovelful adds to the pile of dirt. She seems so focused on the task at hand, it’s like she’s talking just to keep herself on task.::
“This, Mannie and Uncle Charlie, is far more than personal. This is something I cannot let slide. No, this requires swift, brutal, and terrible revenge. The restoration of one’s honor is something worth killing for, and more importantly, worth dieing for. That is the level my vengeance must take.”
::Amy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She exhales slowly trying to calm herself down and focus on the task at hand.::
“You understand revenge all too well, don’t you Warren Peace?”
“Yes, you do. Everyone does. It is nearly instinctual, and universal. Regardless of race, culture, creed or religion, everyone understands revenge. Cultures have deities of revenge, stories about revenge. It is a living breathing thing, always hungry. It burns like fire, consuming all involved, yet must be cold as ice. Then again, nothing burns quite like ice, so cold, it burns worse than any flame, like a cold fire. You know revevenge very well Warren Peace.”
::There is just the slightest hint of sympathy in her voice as she just keeps digging. Each shovelful makes the hole deeper::
“After all, it is revenge that drove you to pursue a career as a wrestler. It has seemingly defined every choice, every decision you make. Most of your life, your entire wrestling career, has been driven by a need for revenge against your father.”
“And I think you understand something about honor. You and your mother were both slighted by your father. That required a redress.”
“The man had intercourse with your mother and then he left. Did he ever write? Did he ever send you a birthday card? Or ever see you on a holiday? Did he bother to stop by when he was in town to spend any time with you? Did he even bother to learn your name?”
::She stops for a moment to look at the hole she has dug. She nods and then goes back to digging.::
“Given your past, I think it would be fair to guess the answer to any of those questions is no. I was lucky enough to have both a mother and a father. I cannot imagine what it is like to have a parent that wants little or nothing to do with you. Sort of proves not everyone deserves to have children. It‘s really kind of tragic.”
“You never forgot what he did and it seems you never forgave. You found him, hunted him down and waited to strike. Slowly but surely, you went around, biding your time. Then when the right moment presented itself, you struck. You went after everything he cared about and took it from him. And you did it again. Now it seems you have found a new means of revenge.”
“It is said parents want to see their children succeed and even surpass them. That however, is not case with an unwanted child. You could have walked away after you were done Warren. You could have ended it and gone on to do something else. But you stayed in wrestling. I didn’t understand why, but I think I get it.”
“Your father was considered a legend in his day. But I think a part of you realized that , yes, while you could keep stalking him and trying to shut down every company he was in, it was not getting the job done. No, the greatest revenge you could ever achieve was to surpass him, exceed what he had done and cast him in your shadow.”
“You know what though Warren Peace?”
::Each shovel of dirt adds to the large pile of dirt at the edge of the hole.::
“This may sound really strange, but I totally get it.”
“I get it. I completely understand why you did everything you have done against him. I may not agree with your methods of shutting down entire companies to get it done, but that’s the nature of the beast we call revenge. Sometimes, there has to be collateral damage. I really cannot even blame you for your actions. I get it Warren, I really do.”
::She keeps digging, the sympathetic tone is gone from her voice.::
“However, at Meltdown, our match has nothing to do with revenge or honor. It is just two people meeting in the ring for a match. Like ships passing in the night. Which actually seems to sum up my time in the APW so far. I just can’t seem to make a friend here. I don’t really understand why. I mean I like to think I’m a nice and friendly person, but it seems rather than making friends, people feel the need to attack me either verbally or professionally. Really have no idea what I am doing wrong. I never used to have this problem. I mean, I debuted in ACW and made a friend in like my first match there with a very nice, kind of creepy but sweet Goth girl named Dahlia. We’re still friends. Here? Seems people would rather just take advantage of me or abuse me because I’m a nice and friendly person. I don’t get it. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I know I am not here to make friends, but one would be nice. Because obviously, I need someone to watch my back as everyone seems to want to jump me from behind.”
::Amy stops digging and closes her eyes, managing to catch herself before she just started rambling about nonsense. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, trying to calm herself. The hurt, anger and sorrow in her voice that appeared in her rambling has passed.::
“After so many months off, you have returned to the APW with the intent of making your second run more successful than your first. Last week probably didn’t go as either of us hoped it would. Everyone is wondering which f us will overcome last week’s disappointment to gain a win this week. However, this match is just a match. There’s no title, no number one contender status. It is just a match.”
::The pile of dirt keeps growing as Amy continues to dig. Each shovelful gives some sort of shape to the hole she has been digging for a while.::
“There is nothing really on the line in our match except the victory. No championship opportunity or high stakes or anything like that. And maybe that’s what I need right now. Just the chance to forget what I am going to have to do to Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie and focus on being in the ring with an actual opponent and having a great match.”
“Now don’t be mistaken Peace, I am not looking past you. I am not going to insult you or your ability by doing so. I will deal with Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie when I decide. You know as well as I do that revenge is patient. But right now, I am focused on meeting you in the ring at Meltdown and having a great match.”
“That’s what I want. That’s why I do this. I want to entertain my fans. I want to hear them cheer. I want to give them something to remember, something to talk about after the show and the next day. If I win a title along the way, then fine. I do this for my fans as much as for myself.”
“And for them Peace, I will walk into Meltdown and I will step into the ring against you. I am looking forward to this. From what I have seen, you are a very talented and skilled technician. I, on the other hand, am not. I’m more a marital artist with a bit of lucha libra mixed in there. A situation like this, a technical wrestler versus a martial artist-slash-lucha libre style wrestler is not something you see often. No this is a rare occurrence. This, I suppose, is what one would call a style clash. And that makes this match so interesting and so exciting for me.”
“Now, as I said, this match we are about to have is not personal. It is, as they say, simply business. I respect your ability Warren. I understand your logic. I don‘t like your anti-wrestling crusade, as it seems a bit hypocritical given you are a wrestler, but I‘m not here to judge. Despite any respect for your ability I may have, I am still going to try to win. So, win, lose or draw Warren Peace, I will give you the best I have. I wish you luck at Meltdown, because I plan to show you why I am simply Amy Zing. I will see you Monday.”
::Amy climbs out of the hole she has been digging. She drops the shovel down and brushes herself off. From where she stands, a second hole can be seen. Neither hole is meant for something like a pool, as they are too shallow, and neither long or wide enough for it. Nor at they for plants as they are too long and too wide and just a bit too deep.::
::Amy looks over both holes without fear. Both the holes are somewhat rectangular, longer than they are wide. They are not as perfectly rectangle as they would be if done by machines. The are also not as deep as they should be. However, the general shape and appearance is unmistakable. They are shallow graves.::
“As for you Mannie and Uncle Charlie, there is a very old saying.”
::Amy walks to the wooden planks and picks them up. She walks towards the end opposite from the large pile of dirt.::
“When you embark on a mission of revenge, dig two graves.”
::With no emotion on her face, Amy Zing sticks the planks into the ground at the end of the holes she has dug. These are crude headstones, nothing more than grave markers to indicate the occupant. She looks at the one to her right. It is marked with the names “Young Mannie” and “Uncle Charlie”.::
“One for them…”
::She then glances at the other plank. There is no emotion on her face as she looks at it. No fear, no shock, no regret for the actions she will take to reach this point. It is as if she understands what will happen. She understands what she must do, no turning back, no regrets. The name on the second marker is her own. It reads “Amy Zing”.::
“And one for yourself.”
::Amy walks over to her jian, and pulls it out of the ground with her right hand. The blade reflects the pale moonlight shining on it. Amy raises the blade.::
“Young Mannie, Uncle Charlie, pray.”
::Amy takes the naked blade and places the sharp edge against her left palm. With a slow and deliberate motion, she drags the blade over her palm, cutting her hand, which starts to bleed. She lowers the sword and with a quick flicking motion, flicks the blood off the weapon.::
::Blood drips down Amy’s open palm. She holds her hand over the grave she had dug for Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie, then closes her hand in a fist. She squeezes her hand, clenching her fist as hard as she can, letting the drops of blood hit the open grave. She does not take her eyes off of her hand. She holds her sword at her side::
“You started this. If I must be consumed by the fires of revenge to fix this, then so be it. I will, however, make certain you two burn with me.”
::She brings her hand to above the open grave she has dug for herself. Again, she squeezes hand into a fist and clenches hard. Blood drip from her hand into the grave. Again, with every motion, she has not taken her eyes off her hand.::
“Just remember, the phoenix dies in flame, only to be reborn from the ashes.”
::Her eyes, those unfamiliar angry and hatful eyes, never turn their gaze away from her bleeding hand.::
“Regardless of the outcome of my match with Warren Peace, you two will suffer. So pray the man manages to injure me as that will be the only thing that will spare your asses for a few bloody months.”
::The scene slowly starts to fade out on the hand and the blood before it fades completely to black.::
"You will burn with me."
::In the open field, in a shallow hole, a shovel once again, breaks into the ground. A boot steps on it, pushing it deeper into the earth. The shovel rises, dumping another load of dirt out of the hole.::
::Amy Zing is digging. With the exception of her boots, she is dressed in white. White sweat pants and a white shirt, the color Chinese culture uses for funerals . Her clothes are dirty, due to digging this hole, whatever purpose it may serve. On the ground above the hole is her jian, unsheathed and sticking into the ground. The pale moonlight faintly illuminates the blade of “the Gentleman of weapons”, as the jian is named in Chinese folklore. Near the jian are what appear to be two long wooden planks. There is a large pile of dirt at end of the hole.::
::She is sweating, showing that she has been here for awhile. She stops digging, resting the shovel in the ground and leaning against it. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve.::
“Let me get this straight, just to make sure I understand it. Your girlfriend was assaulted in the ring some time ago. You are angry that none of the fans, who can be ejected and even arrest or put in a situation where they could sue the APW, jumped the guardrail to help. You are angry that none of the people in the back, the announcers, cameramen, sound technicians, ring crew or anyone else in the building that night helped. Now, rather than go after those responsible, you attack me.”
::For a moment, she looks a little confused and shocked.::
“You realize how little sense that makes don’t you?”
“I was not a member of the APW when that happened. I was not in the audience when it happened. I was not even in the same city as the incident when it happened. So how does it make sense that you somehow take this out on me?”
::“The Hong Kong Sensation” sighs in frustration. It seems more a frustration at herself than anything else.::
“I’m too nice.”
::She ends her break, returning to her digging of the hole. She does not look at anything other than
“I admit it, I’m a nice person. It’s just how I am. I don’t see a need to be a jerk or arrogant. I try to be a nice, honest, humble, honorable person, and I would like to think I manage to do that.”
“I like being friendly. I like getting to know people and actually talking to them. I will pose for a photograph or stop and sign an autograph or chat with my fans, because that‘s the person I am. This also makes people think they can take advantage of me or that I will simply brush off any slight against me.”
::She keeps digging, piling dirt up. This does not seem to be a hole for planting a tree or some such thing. It appears to be a bit larger and meant for a less than pleasant purpose..::
“If Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie had simply just jumped me to make a point, then that would have been acceptable. That would have been within what is acceptable within wrestling. He and I would probably just have had a match to try and settle things. This was not that case.”
::The look in the eyes of Amy Zing is something that has never been seen there before. It wasn’t there when she and Aubrey Parker had their war of a match. It is a hate filled anger. There is no joy or her usual tone in her voice, only the hate and anger.::
“No. You two had to insult my dream, demean me, tell me I would be better off as a “bottom bitch” and then throw money at me as if I was a cheap whore.”
::She takes a moment to stop digging the hole and glances, almost glares, into the camera.
“This is a matter of honor.”
::She turns back to her digging and brings up another shovelful of dirt, adding it to the growing pile.::
“The most important lesson my parents taught me, the one thing they instilled in me practically from birth was honor and its value. It is not just some abstract concept to value one’s worthiness and respectability. Even criminals, street gangs and the various mobs have a code of honor. To me, my honor is everything.”
“I am the person I am because of the value I place on honor.”
::She keeps digging. Each shovelful brings her deeper. Each shovelful adds to the pile of dirt. She seems so focused on the task at hand, it’s like she’s talking just to keep herself on task.::
“This, Mannie and Uncle Charlie, is far more than personal. This is something I cannot let slide. No, this requires swift, brutal, and terrible revenge. The restoration of one’s honor is something worth killing for, and more importantly, worth dieing for. That is the level my vengeance must take.”
::Amy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She exhales slowly trying to calm herself down and focus on the task at hand.::
“You understand revenge all too well, don’t you Warren Peace?”
“Yes, you do. Everyone does. It is nearly instinctual, and universal. Regardless of race, culture, creed or religion, everyone understands revenge. Cultures have deities of revenge, stories about revenge. It is a living breathing thing, always hungry. It burns like fire, consuming all involved, yet must be cold as ice. Then again, nothing burns quite like ice, so cold, it burns worse than any flame, like a cold fire. You know revevenge very well Warren Peace.”
::There is just the slightest hint of sympathy in her voice as she just keeps digging. Each shovelful makes the hole deeper::
“After all, it is revenge that drove you to pursue a career as a wrestler. It has seemingly defined every choice, every decision you make. Most of your life, your entire wrestling career, has been driven by a need for revenge against your father.”
“And I think you understand something about honor. You and your mother were both slighted by your father. That required a redress.”
“The man had intercourse with your mother and then he left. Did he ever write? Did he ever send you a birthday card? Or ever see you on a holiday? Did he bother to stop by when he was in town to spend any time with you? Did he even bother to learn your name?”
::She stops for a moment to look at the hole she has dug. She nods and then goes back to digging.::
“Given your past, I think it would be fair to guess the answer to any of those questions is no. I was lucky enough to have both a mother and a father. I cannot imagine what it is like to have a parent that wants little or nothing to do with you. Sort of proves not everyone deserves to have children. It‘s really kind of tragic.”
“You never forgot what he did and it seems you never forgave. You found him, hunted him down and waited to strike. Slowly but surely, you went around, biding your time. Then when the right moment presented itself, you struck. You went after everything he cared about and took it from him. And you did it again. Now it seems you have found a new means of revenge.”
“It is said parents want to see their children succeed and even surpass them. That however, is not case with an unwanted child. You could have walked away after you were done Warren. You could have ended it and gone on to do something else. But you stayed in wrestling. I didn’t understand why, but I think I get it.”
“Your father was considered a legend in his day. But I think a part of you realized that , yes, while you could keep stalking him and trying to shut down every company he was in, it was not getting the job done. No, the greatest revenge you could ever achieve was to surpass him, exceed what he had done and cast him in your shadow.”
“You know what though Warren Peace?”
::Each shovel of dirt adds to the large pile of dirt at the edge of the hole.::
“This may sound really strange, but I totally get it.”
“I get it. I completely understand why you did everything you have done against him. I may not agree with your methods of shutting down entire companies to get it done, but that’s the nature of the beast we call revenge. Sometimes, there has to be collateral damage. I really cannot even blame you for your actions. I get it Warren, I really do.”
::She keeps digging, the sympathetic tone is gone from her voice.::
“However, at Meltdown, our match has nothing to do with revenge or honor. It is just two people meeting in the ring for a match. Like ships passing in the night. Which actually seems to sum up my time in the APW so far. I just can’t seem to make a friend here. I don’t really understand why. I mean I like to think I’m a nice and friendly person, but it seems rather than making friends, people feel the need to attack me either verbally or professionally. Really have no idea what I am doing wrong. I never used to have this problem. I mean, I debuted in ACW and made a friend in like my first match there with a very nice, kind of creepy but sweet Goth girl named Dahlia. We’re still friends. Here? Seems people would rather just take advantage of me or abuse me because I’m a nice and friendly person. I don’t get it. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I know I am not here to make friends, but one would be nice. Because obviously, I need someone to watch my back as everyone seems to want to jump me from behind.”
::Amy stops digging and closes her eyes, managing to catch herself before she just started rambling about nonsense. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, trying to calm herself. The hurt, anger and sorrow in her voice that appeared in her rambling has passed.::
“After so many months off, you have returned to the APW with the intent of making your second run more successful than your first. Last week probably didn’t go as either of us hoped it would. Everyone is wondering which f us will overcome last week’s disappointment to gain a win this week. However, this match is just a match. There’s no title, no number one contender status. It is just a match.”
::The pile of dirt keeps growing as Amy continues to dig. Each shovelful gives some sort of shape to the hole she has been digging for a while.::
“There is nothing really on the line in our match except the victory. No championship opportunity or high stakes or anything like that. And maybe that’s what I need right now. Just the chance to forget what I am going to have to do to Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie and focus on being in the ring with an actual opponent and having a great match.”
“Now don’t be mistaken Peace, I am not looking past you. I am not going to insult you or your ability by doing so. I will deal with Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie when I decide. You know as well as I do that revenge is patient. But right now, I am focused on meeting you in the ring at Meltdown and having a great match.”
“That’s what I want. That’s why I do this. I want to entertain my fans. I want to hear them cheer. I want to give them something to remember, something to talk about after the show and the next day. If I win a title along the way, then fine. I do this for my fans as much as for myself.”
“And for them Peace, I will walk into Meltdown and I will step into the ring against you. I am looking forward to this. From what I have seen, you are a very talented and skilled technician. I, on the other hand, am not. I’m more a marital artist with a bit of lucha libra mixed in there. A situation like this, a technical wrestler versus a martial artist-slash-lucha libre style wrestler is not something you see often. No this is a rare occurrence. This, I suppose, is what one would call a style clash. And that makes this match so interesting and so exciting for me.”
“Now, as I said, this match we are about to have is not personal. It is, as they say, simply business. I respect your ability Warren. I understand your logic. I don‘t like your anti-wrestling crusade, as it seems a bit hypocritical given you are a wrestler, but I‘m not here to judge. Despite any respect for your ability I may have, I am still going to try to win. So, win, lose or draw Warren Peace, I will give you the best I have. I wish you luck at Meltdown, because I plan to show you why I am simply Amy Zing. I will see you Monday.”
::Amy climbs out of the hole she has been digging. She drops the shovel down and brushes herself off. From where she stands, a second hole can be seen. Neither hole is meant for something like a pool, as they are too shallow, and neither long or wide enough for it. Nor at they for plants as they are too long and too wide and just a bit too deep.::
::Amy looks over both holes without fear. Both the holes are somewhat rectangular, longer than they are wide. They are not as perfectly rectangle as they would be if done by machines. The are also not as deep as they should be. However, the general shape and appearance is unmistakable. They are shallow graves.::
“As for you Mannie and Uncle Charlie, there is a very old saying.”
::Amy walks to the wooden planks and picks them up. She walks towards the end opposite from the large pile of dirt.::
“When you embark on a mission of revenge, dig two graves.”
::With no emotion on her face, Amy Zing sticks the planks into the ground at the end of the holes she has dug. These are crude headstones, nothing more than grave markers to indicate the occupant. She looks at the one to her right. It is marked with the names “Young Mannie” and “Uncle Charlie”.::
“One for them…”
::She then glances at the other plank. There is no emotion on her face as she looks at it. No fear, no shock, no regret for the actions she will take to reach this point. It is as if she understands what will happen. She understands what she must do, no turning back, no regrets. The name on the second marker is her own. It reads “Amy Zing”.::
“And one for yourself.”
::Amy walks over to her jian, and pulls it out of the ground with her right hand. The blade reflects the pale moonlight shining on it. Amy raises the blade.::
“Young Mannie, Uncle Charlie, pray.”
::Amy takes the naked blade and places the sharp edge against her left palm. With a slow and deliberate motion, she drags the blade over her palm, cutting her hand, which starts to bleed. She lowers the sword and with a quick flicking motion, flicks the blood off the weapon.::
::Blood drips down Amy’s open palm. She holds her hand over the grave she had dug for Young Mannie and Uncle Charlie, then closes her hand in a fist. She squeezes her hand, clenching her fist as hard as she can, letting the drops of blood hit the open grave. She does not take her eyes off of her hand. She holds her sword at her side::
“You started this. If I must be consumed by the fires of revenge to fix this, then so be it. I will, however, make certain you two burn with me.”
::She brings her hand to above the open grave she has dug for herself. Again, she squeezes hand into a fist and clenches hard. Blood drip from her hand into the grave. Again, with every motion, she has not taken her eyes off her hand.::
“Just remember, the phoenix dies in flame, only to be reborn from the ashes.”
::Her eyes, those unfamiliar angry and hatful eyes, never turn their gaze away from her bleeding hand.::
“Regardless of the outcome of my match with Warren Peace, you two will suffer. So pray the man manages to injure me as that will be the only thing that will spare your asses for a few bloody months.”
::The scene slowly starts to fade out on the hand and the blood before it fades completely to black.::
"You will burn with me."
