Dragon Suplex

[zyon 0]

White powder covers the crowded streets of Cleveland as many obnoxious land dwellers rush around looking to take advantage of the post holiday buzz. True a person may have legit intentions along with a bright personality, but people are quite obnoxious in the way they control their emotions when it pertains to the post holiday extravaganza of receiving what wasn’t given to you. The chatter filled roads scare off the tourists who may want to visit the Rock N’ Roll hall of fame, and may deny teenagers the chance to egg Jay Hawke’s mansion.

 

Which is why some of us prefer the sidewalk.

 

Layered with a light jacket one particular tourist attempts to fit in with the casual baggy jeans and T-shirt. Hell even a Bengals hat would be a fitting prop to hide the identity of Zak Owens, or to those not in the know…Zyon. Feeling the moderate chill of winter the young professional wrestler continues his journey on a sidewalk that pales in comparison to the infamous yellow brick road.

 

He is certainly not in Kansas, and never was. But being away from Indiana has been frustrating to say the least.

 

Christmas came and gone, and all Zyon got was SWF merchandise to hand out to children who are less fortunate. Well the spotty youth did receive one gift that he had to work to receive, which brings young Zyon to the home of the SWF. Many stories float around the locker room involving SWF headquarters. Some are wickedly cool, while others are dangerously horrible.

 

“Some say the Justice League minus Batman are stationed in the basement of SWF HQ.”

 

As wickedly cool that is, Zyon always preferred the Thunder Cats…cause seriously the chant along with the base was the epitome of awesome.

 

“Some say scientists worked for years to create the perfect weapon to be used in the military.”

 

Once again that would be wickedly cool if these scientists didn’t add sugar, spice, and HOSS like chemical X to create Ghost Machine, which turns the wickedly cool to down right horrible. However, rumors whispered by low paid jobbers and Landon Maddix would not explain the reason for Zyon to visit the temple of work rate. The youth though declined the ability to have a limo take him to HQ, which is why Mr. Owens finds himself enjoying the post holiday extravaganza. Soon though Zyon’s travels are warranted with joy as Zak experiences a beautiful moment of excitement.

 

CHUCK F’N NORRIS!!!!!

 

Zyon on the corner of his eye notices the Walker himself exiting a common vehicle. Sadly, Mr. Norris probably didn’t get the opportunity to turn down a limo, but that’s beside the point. The pro wrestler attempts to force himself toward the cult icon, but the young wrestler opts to continue his journey to the Wizard Of Lockdown. Finally, after minutes of travel and the harsh decision to avoid CHUCK F’N NORRIS Zyon arrived at SWF Headquarters.

 

And.it.was.HUGE.

 

Seriously the tower harboring SWF creative went miles into the air with expensive tinted glass windows covering the building and all of its secrets. With a deep breath, Zyon took his first step into where his lively hood was born…

 

“SECURITY!!!!!”

 

A random female receptionist screams as suddenly brutes dressed in police uniform charge the wide-eyed youngster who swears to god that Halloween ended two months ago. Violently waving his hands Zyon attempts to stop the roided up Vince McMahon rejects, but he soon finds himself pinned to the ground. A twenty-dollar Bengals cap falls to the ground fully exposing the face of Zyon for all to see.

 

“Idiots!”

 

The strong willed receptionist yells as the pit bulls in human form carefully move away from Zyon before darting off in a random direction like they just stole something.

 

“Well that was one hell of a welcome.”

 

Always cheery, the youth dusts himself off before cautiously moving toward the receptionist.

 

“I have a meeting with Joseph Peters.”

 

The youth says quickly before he finds himself in a bear trap or something. The middle aged lady silently points Zyon to the left, and like a good boy Mr. Owens heads toward the second door on the left cause the first door had the heading…

 

“Tom Flesher”

 

And he currently isn’t in. The second door however belonged to one Joseph Peters.

 

Knock

 

Knock

 

Knock

 

“Come in.”

 

Those words granted Zyon the permission to enter a room that only few have WANTED to see.

 

“Oh our prized Unique Youth, Zak Owens. What a surprise.”

 

The owner of Lockdown is overly friendly, and for good reason. Zyon is the last of a dying breed as most cruiserweight have turned toward the technical puru style of wrestling. And with Toxxic gone, and Insane Luchador…dead, Zyon would be one of the last superstars who gets a kick out of putting his body on the line. Technically, Lockdown cuts the legs off of Zyon’s offense, but money earned is money earned.

 

“So I take it you are here to receive the contract of having the first match of 2006 with any opponent of your choosing.”

 

Mr. Peters is all smiles as he brings a piece of paper forward into Zyon’s vision.

 

“I would ask you to sit down, but everything has already been taken care of.”

 

Zyon scans the contract before staring the Lockdown Wizard with a look that transfers into Mike Tyson’s famous quote of wanting to eat somebody’s children.

 

“Zak what is the problem. You get any match you desire, and that would obviously be against Magnifico for the World Heavyweight Title.”

 

Somebody is jumping to conclusions.

 

Zyon calmly lifts the contract off the desk before casually tossing it into the trash can beside him. Arrogantly, the youth extends his hand.

 

“Let’s start over. I’m Zak Owens, and I unlike many of your lackeys, I have a mind of my own.”

 

Stunned, and slightly agitated Joseph Peters extends his hand. Zyon graciously takes a seat as his long brown hair shades his green eyes that continue to glare at the man who used Spike Jenkins as a pawn in their game.

 

“So if you don’t want Magnifico…who do you want?”

 

Mr. Peters ponders only to have Zyon answer the question immediately without hesitation.

 

“JJ Johnson for the Cruiserweight Title. And I want ladders, chairs, tables, barbed wire, semi trucks, school buses…”

 

“Whoa. Ok you want JJ Johnson that’s fine, but it will be on Lockdown. There will be no ladders or tables or anything else you can think of.”

 

Zyon can only grin.

 

“That’s fine, a straight up wrasslin match it is.”

 

The youth speaks with the best Memphis accent he can muster before asking a question himself.

 

“So how is Lockdown doing in the ratings compartment?”

 

All smiles baby.

 

“That is not important since it is obvious you have no ideas on how to fix the situation.”

 

Peters throws it back in Zyon’s face only to have the youth rebel.

 

“Of course I do. I for one believe you should reinstate Bruce Blank to that particular show.”

 

Oh Yeah…

 

*Thumbs Up*

 

“Do you honestly think that will help?”

 

“Of course not, but damnit that’s an idea.”

 

Peters has had enough.

 

“You are just being silly. If you have nothing more to ask, I would like for you to leave.”

 

Grinning from ear to ear the Unique Youth stands up thoroughly pleased with what he has accomplished, but the drastic general manager could not let him go.

 

“By the way how do you plan to stop Johnson when we all know what happened last time.”

 

OOOOOOOOOO no he didn’t.

 

The usual happy Zyon winces as a vision pops up of the night that was supposed to be his, but things just didn’t work out that way.

 

And as 56,000 people look on, JJ Johnson ducks low before bridging back and taking his archrival, Zyon, off of the top rope with a dragon suplex. About halfway through the suplex, Johnson thankfully releases, and he falls hard to the mat. The Unique Youth’s body defines a graceful arc as it sails through the air, and Zyon still has a shellshocked look on his face as he turns 270 degrees, almost in slow motion, the canvas his last view before being shoved headlong into unconsciousness.

 

The youth quickly snaps back into reality taking a moment to answer the harsh question…with a harsh answer.

 

 

 

“Heh…I’m going to drop him on his head.”

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

This promo serves to remind me that I'm the only writer in the entire fed that can't pull off comedy...

 

Well done promo, overall; Zyon versus Triple J is a match that I will very much enjoy reading.