Zephyr and the King

“It’s weird how peaceful this place is right? Beautiful in a way that can’t be described by anyone who isn’t here to experience it themselves.”

Zephyr Quinn stands in front of an abandoned building, nature running its course and having its way with the man-made structures. Restless and almost agitated, Zephyr paces in front of the building as a cool breeze ripples her hair and sends shivers down the camera crew’s spine. Finally settling down some, Zephyr takes out a familiar e-cigarette and takes a few puffs before kicking at some debris on the ground. Exhaling, she turns to the building encompassed by Mother Nature’s grasp. Smiling, she pulls half-heartedly at a few of the vines and taps one of the windows on the door she can reach before turning back to the camera.

“I did some research before coming here King,” her voice is quiet and deadly as she starts to take a walk around the building, “Welcome to Forest Haven Asylum. Opened in 1925 and survived until 1991 when the DOJ came down and officially closed it. Want to know why King?” Her voice carries with it a hidden fire, no bigger than a matchstick, but slowly building, “Rumors of every flavor of abuse. Gross, medical incompetence, several deaths from something called ‘aspiration pneumonia,’ a result of being fed while lying down, and do you know what the kicker is? I read that they had some on-site burials, right where we’re standing now.” Her voice only registers above a whisper, but the fire has grown to a campfire, bordering on a bonfire. As she walks she looks into the windows, years of neglect and decay showing on the abandoned desks, chairs, stuffed animals…

Zephyr stops at one particular window and stares in at an eerie scene.

She smiles at the camera, a mischievous look in her eyes, “Creepy right?” She continues to walk and the camera follows as she speaks, “I know that you aren’t the type to run off scared King but I also know what a place like this can do to a *person* like you. A… *Person* like me. We both have awful, vivid, and horrible memories the likes of which we’ll never be able to explain to another person. This weird idea of us being able to SHOW people the way we feel when we look at a scene like this, of being so incredibly VIOLENT, there’s no choice to our peers but to brand us as ‘monsters’ when all we’re trying to do?” Zephyr peeks over her shoulder and the Cheshire smile can be seen, “Is show everyone EXACTLY how we feel, by letting them have a glimpse into what we’ve experienced.”

Shaking her head, Zephyr runs a hand through her hair before coming back around the other side of the building and stops right back in front of the door where she started, “We’re branded ‘monsters’ for sharing. How fucked of a concept IS that?” Zephyr’s voice raises in pitch but quickly settles, the fire rising to the point that it threatened to engulf the world around it, but diminishes to a bonfire once again. Zeph smiles as she opens the door, the resounding creak of old hinges echoing throughout the building, “This building, beautiful as it may be, has a lot of stigma around it. Some might say that they let sleeping dogs lie for the sake of the monstrous past that this building has endured.”

Zephyr pauses and looks intently into the lens of the camera. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and direct, carrying with it an air of hidden malice, “Everyone thinks that I wanted this match to follow in the footsteps of the people that came before me, all of those other people that stepped up to the plate and said that they would be the one to slay the beast of the monster LRK. Everyone who thinks that? They are wrong and that is exactly why they walked away from the wreckage you left them in, and never tried to come back again. I’m. Not. *Them.* King.” The sentence comes out as a low and dangerous growl, enough to send chills up the camera crew’s spines.

She huffs a few times before her voice picks up a primal quality that would make anyone that considered themselves to be “prey” sweat, “I stood in your shoes and I watched every one of them brand me as nothing more than a mindless monster, a tool used to propel the goals of others. I’ve been working to prove them wrong ever since and in that time, I’ve watched them hunt for anyone or anything they feel needs to be put down. Hunted like nothing more than a piece of meat, a trophy for a job well done to hang over a mantle. There’s a fine line between what they view as a monster and what we are King. You NEED to see that. You NEED to know that you are very close to crossing that proverbial line and when that happens… They will come at you with everything they have. Maybe you can handle it, but then they reach out, and they keep reaching until they finally find that person to put you down, for good. The person that ended the monster’s reign of terror…”

Zephyr sighs, “That’s why I’m going to win King. It isn’t because I WANT to win, though admittedly it would do wonders for a resume to be the person to hand you your first loss in singles competition. No, it’s because, to save you from becoming just another mantle piece trophy, the monster with an unhappy ending in a fairy tale, they NEED to see you beat at your own game, by someone that treads the same path as you. It’s funny that you call me the ‘Sanguine Siren,’ and I’ll be honest King, I had to look up some definitions. If I’m reading things right, I’m a person that lures people to their doom in times of dire need, by being sickeningly optimistic.” She raises an eyebrow at the camera, “Well King, consider this your wake-up call. No one stays unbeaten forever and in case you haven’t noticed, times are crazy right now. Pandemics, civil unrest, and do you know what is SUPER annoying?” She smirks, “I’ve still got my fucking smile on. Now, care to follow me to your doom?”

As Zephyr steps inside the massive foyer, the audible click of the camera being paused and the lens cap being replaced is heard, “Woah… This is so, chilling in the creepiest, and best of ways…” She twirls around to take in her surroundings. Any paint left on the walls is peeling and dirty, highlighting the rotting wood it was hiding. Garbage litters the floor as dust floats through the air and settles on everything it touches. A small table stands in the center, a small, porcelain teddy bear reaching out for a hug and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint sits amid the debris of the crumbling building around them.

“Pretty sure if we pick that up,” Zephyr’s companion declares, pointing at the bear, “we’re gonna trigger a boss fight. Are you ready for Pyramid Head? Cuz I’m not.”

Zephyr smiles as she brings a pale finger close to the tip of the bear’s nose, “At this point, I’d almost have to be right?” She winks before picking it up and placing it in her pocket, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s cute and it looked like it needed to be taken out of this place. Knowing what I’ve read? I can’t say I blame it. Just need to remember to take it to a witch to remove any curses that might be on it.” Smiling Zephyr journeys straight ahead toward a massive staircase showing signs of the years of neglect it has endured.

“You have to tell me about your local witch. I’m new in town - need to set myself up properly.” Humming, the erstwhile cameraperson looks around. “It’s brave of you to come to a place like this considering what you’ve been through. I imagine it brings up memories.”

Zephyr shrugs as she walks doing her best to hide the shivers that ran up and down her spine, “I was brainwashed at one point. Up until recently, everything before they took over my mind, was just; blank. I couldn’t remember any of it. Now?” She draws a sharp breath as she crosses in front of an abandoned conference room, “I only remember the feelings associated with hopelessness. Of reaching out for help and finding that no one was there for me. Once that point gets driven home, the brainwashing just kinda takes over. It’s easier if a person, a little girl with her twin sister, and…”

A flash of memory in Zephyr’s mind’s eye plays. Young Zephyr, struggling to get free of her captors as Su, calmly obeys and does what she is told. “It will be easier this way,” Su’s voice echoes in Zephyr’s consciousness as a lifeless body is dropped in front of Zephyr. As Zephyr realizes who it is, she stops moving, tears quickly coming as a body bag is brought in by a man she thought was her father.

Cornelius bends down and unzips the bag to reveal the lifeless body of his ex-wife. The unconscious body of teenage Mia groans before they take her away, forcing Zephyr to follow her twin…

She stops suddenly, the memory clicking into place in the blank slate of Zephyr’s mind. In the back of her consciousness, the tickle that indicated Mia was awake and aware alerted Zephyr,

* ”I… Was I an Institute experiment?”

“They say that history is our greatest teacher…”

Zephyr stands behind what was once a conference table, the camera once again recording her every action.

“This building, beautiful on the outside, especially if you think that now and again, it’s wonderful to watch Mother Nature take back the world; holds so much bad blood inside of it. Take this room, King, look at where we are, *feel* the power of the people that once sat here, how many decisions they made that changed the lives of various people that once lived under this roof, hoping that they were going to get the help they needed to survive another day. We know that the results of most, if not all, of these decisions, ended badly for the powers that sat here and the business they represented. That can’t take away or erase everything else this building was built to represent. I’d be willing to give away a lot to bet on the fact that the people that originally conceptualized this place wanted to HELP the people that were here.”

Running a finger through the debris on the table, Zephyr draws a small pattern in the dust and marvels at the small mound of dust she was able to accumulate. “When I woke up from whatever spell I had been under, I called myself ‘The Crazy Angel.’ For those uber fans that want to impress with random trivia, I don’t know where the name came from. ’Crazy’ I can get behind. Take it as a traditional sense and label my brain with whatever you diagnose me with, but in this world, through these eyes? Crazy is just a different way to perceive the world. Angel though… When I think of an angel, I think of what everyone else does, a smiling human-like figure, dressed in brilliant and white robes held closed by a golden rope, wings, and a halo. A servant of whatever deity a person happens to believe in, in some cases even a messenger of sorts. Angels can’t harm you but they can give you some amazing advice. They can do no wrong and go against everything that I find myself standing for.”

Zephyr squishes the mounds of dust with the palm of her hand before focusing once again on the camera lens, “I stand for violence. I have a penchant for blood lust. I hate arrogant pricks with god-complexes, and I don’t do patience. Sure, I have some ‘angelic’ qualities, but I’m no angel…” She smiles, “Except… Recently, I have found another definition of “angel” that I’m partial to. A being that gives themselves wholly to save the people they believe are most in need. People who are on the brink of destruction, whether it be from outside sources, looking for the next trophy kill; or an internal implosion of emotion and contradicting memories that threaten to engulf you, drowning you with their weight. Catchy right?”

Shrugging, Zephyr stands straight and brushes her hands off, “I’m not arrogant enough to tell you that I’m here to save you, King, at least not in the traditional sense. There’s no WAY I’d be able to sweep you off your feet and carry you off into the night. But since you’ve crashed your way into Carnage, you’ve put that target on your back. A flashing, neon light points out every move that you make and then paints it in a light that makes you out to be a monster with no hope. No way back, a lost cause, and not worth the time. I see the crowd amassing, getting their pitchforks and torches, ready to slay you for being unsavable; and lo, your angel has appeared.”

Walking out of the conference room, Zephyr continues to explore the abandoned psychiatric hospital, “Maybe I am arrogant for believing that I’m the only one that can save you from yourself, and the only way to save you is by beating you to the point that you can’t get to your feet in the span of a ten count. Believe me when I say that I don’t want to see a monster hunt. They’re tired, they’re old, and I don’t believe that you need a reason to be seen as anything more of a monster than you already are. People see something impactful, true violence, true gratitude, maiming an opponent with glass, or reuniting with an old flame, and that first impression of that first intense feeling is felt forever, throughout the ebbs of time itself. I’m not coming to you as an enemy King. I know that you only respond to the people that can stand their ground when you come down on them and I know that you communicate best through violence. This match isn’t just a matter of winning and having my hand raised, and another tally added to my win column. This is a matter of coming to you, in your world, and your terms, working out a way that we can move forward from here. We can both learn a lot from each other and if the first lesson I learn is how to take a beating from a monster of a man; then your first lesson is going to have to be that salvation can come when you least expect it, or when it is expected the most. All it takes is a few short seconds, a willingness to open your perspective and believe that regardless of the original concept? Both of us have turned it all around. Now? It’s time we flip the script one more time and show that two monsters, lost in carnage and chaos, can be the beacon of light in a dark time to brighter shores.”

“The Crazy Angel” smirks, “Or you know as ‘Sanguine Siren’ suggests, we lead them to unforeseeable doom. But damn are we going to have some fun doing it.”

“Zephyr?”

The voice cuts through Zephyr’s thoughts as the camera once again pauses, “Yeah, I’m good.” She leans against the closest wall and takes a few deep breaths, “Just… I guess I didn’t anticipate how many memories this place was going to bring back.”

* “Yeah, like the fact that I’ve been living a lie?”

Zephyr shakes her head and swats a hand lazily around her face, almost as if trying to scare away a mosquito.

“Maybe we should head out,” suggests her companion. “All you tough guys like to pretend nothing gets to you until you’re at your breaking point. Besides, I’m in the mood for something with carbs, whipped cream, and, preferably, a chocolate glaze. How about you?”

Zephyr smiles slightly, “Cinnamon, something with apples too, and gooey. Yeah, that sounds good. Just need to figure out a way to close all of this out. Built-up a lot of it, now it’s time to end it until The King and The Angel go at it.”

“Uh-huh,” her companion says, amused. “Gotta say I’m pretty invested in how this one shakes out.”

Zephyr chuckles as she pushes herself away from the wall, “Well, I’m sure that you’re not the only one. I just want to make sure that we both walk out of there in one piece and leave everything ELSE in shambles.”

“I feel like you and he are two sides of the same coin. Just from everything I saw when I was doing research, you guys have a lot in common. This all feels...pretty inevitable, really.”

Zephyr pauses and considers the words, “Yeah, I can see that. Honestly, when I was booked in that triple threat against him and Willis, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Of course, you hear stories, but a person can’t know unless they have the experience. King is a force and I can’t help but smile at how he didn’t have to do anything except exist before everyone started flocking around him to be the first to take him down. None of them knew what they were getting into. King and I had a conversation after his first match with Mitch, managed to get myself locked into the room he was being… Kept in? I saw him for what he was when I was able to look him in the eyes, he saw the same in me. As inevitable as this match might be, it has nothing to do with dominance, one person being better than the other. This has everything to do with showing him that he’s not alone on that plane of existence he’s on.”

“I can appreciate that. I think it’s important for him to find people with whom he’s shared this kind of experience. Having a community can help a lot when it comes to coping with shit that’s happened to you and moving forward.”

Nodding Zephyr heads back down the stairs, followed by her companion, “Shared experiences are great like that I guess, even if the experience is horrific. Having that other person to reach out to for help sometimes feels like the world.” She shudders, gripping the banister tight on the way down.

“Whoa, you doing okay there?” her companion queried. “Not to be the naysayer here or anything, but you’ve been through a lot lately. Do you have what you need to be alright?”

Zephyr nods, "Yeah, old memories die hard and as it turns out, I'm beginning to remember a lot more I wasn't really expecting."

“Anything you’re cool with sharing?”

Pausing, Zephyr turns back to her companion, “Once I have all the pieces put together. Right now though I want to keep my focus on King. One wrong move and I could end up just another smear in his win column.”

“He’s definitely going to do his best to make that a reality. Curious to see what you’re going to do to try and prevent it from happening.”

Zephyr shrugs as the two head out into the bright day, “I’ve said my piece. At Chaos, we meet on the battlefield and what happens then is anyone’s guess. But I know one thing for sure; when the dust settles, we’ll both be standing tall as equals. Any ideas on a pastry place to satisfy that sweet tooth by the by? The least I can do for filming this for me is treat you to baked goods.”

“You know...I just visited this place called The Bun Shop. Wouldn’t mind going back.”

“Perfect! In that case, let’s pack up here and we’ll kill two birds with one stone. One of the bakers there is actually my witch.” Zephyr winks and together they close the door behind them.

Mac Bane’s Baltimore Residence

Belle wasn’t sure what she was doing. Sure, she had rehearsed what she was going to say to Zephyr a million and one times,

“I love you. Always have. No matter what happens, I want to be your one and only. Please accept this gift.”

The ending left some things to be desired, but Belle was sure the gift would be enough to get her point across. Zephyr was her guardian, her monster, and regardless of what that meant, what was going to happen, she’d stand by Zephyr no matter what. A custom pair of brass knuckles, “Tuff Love” emblazoned on every knuckle carefully gift wrapped with elf-like precision. Yes, Belle was on the right track to get her life back together.

With renewed confidence, Belle heads to the door and knocks, the sexiest of smiles on her face. Hearing some shuffling around inside, Belle straightens up and as the door opens, she starts her speech, “Zephyr I love…” She stops as she sees the person in front of her, “Grace?”