A GYM - FEDERAL HILL - PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLANDScene opens as the camera comes through the door of an obviously “in need of some love” gym. The camera weaves through a maze of men and women training in various ways. Boxers, grapplers, jump ropers. A mix of all disciplines sectioned off throughout the pungent space. The camera quickly jumps to focus on action in the middle of the gym: a pair squared off across from one another in a wrestling ring. The only recognizable of the two is Ezio DeLuca, crouching down, eyes focused on the opponent in front of him. The equally-sized opponent proceeds to rush Ezio, arm out ready for a significant strike. Ezio ducks out of the way, quickly turns to grasp completely around the waist his opponent, and swiftly performs a textbook german suplex. The opponent lays on the mat, struggling for a few moments, until Ezio extends a hand from above and helps him to his feet. Ezio smiles briefly, grabs his cheeks, and lays a quick peck on the opponent’s lips. A pained smirk emanates from his former opponent as Ezio exist the ring and proceeds to begin wrapping his hands in boxing tape.
“Oh him? A good guy. Great training partner. Better in bed than he is in the ring for sure. But I digress.”
Ezio finishes wrapping his hands and claps them together twice.
“Now for the real business at hand. Serena Riot. “The Fallen Prophet” as she likes to call herself. I mean, I’ll agree. The nickname does seem somewhat on point. The fallen part of course. Fallen from grace. Fallen from power. Fallen from the historical lineage set forth by her dear old dad. And come Sunday, it’ll come to signify how she’s fallen to me. This match is scheduled for one fall, folks! And I might not be a prophet myself, but I can assure you that the future involves that one fall being claimed by me over your exhausted, deranged self.”
Ezio glides over to a speed bag and starts slow: two rights, two lefts. Picks up the pace. Two rights, two lefts, two rights, two lefts. Then lets off a dazzling display of lefts and rights until finally ending with a right powerful enough to knock the bag clean off the hook.
“I pissed YOU off? Are you kidding me? What wouldn’t piss you off, Serena? I was really, truly excited for this match when it was announced, but after hearing you run your mouth again about underestimating my talent, my experience, and insulting my family, I have reached a new level of pumped. You rant and rave about butterflies and torture and all sorts of delusions that fly through your unstable brain. Well, let me be 100% clear: I might be new here, but I’m not new to facing and demolishing opponents like you. I’ve been doing this for quite a while. Didn’t even have a famous champion wrestler of a father to help me make a name for myself. I made a name all on my own. And you? You basically got granted a trust fund from your estranged daddy to get you to where you are.”
Ezio steps towards the camera in an uncharacteristic predatory manner, locking eyes with anyone paying attention. He inhales and exhales deeply, not breaking eye contact. Unblinking.
“Say whatever the hell you want about me, Serena. Call me a newbie. Tell the world all of the fancy things you’re going to do when you lose your mind in the ring. Blah blah blah. But listen now...and listen closely. You’ve insulted my family. You’ve gone a bridge to far with your unwarranted attacks on them. And so guess what? I’m going to burn the bridge that you just walked over. I’m going to force you into an inescapable ass kicking that will show you and show the EAW exactly what the DeLuca name is all about. But look on the bright side, Serena! You get to always be remembered as the first stone laid on Ezio DeLuca’s path to glory here. And after Sunday, no one will ever forget it.”
Likes: Kassidy Heart