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Zane Norrison · **02-08-2019, 10:06 AM**

What's something that a zombie toting around a brain through the streets of Manhattan, probably shouldn't do? Hmmm... I know! Walk around with only one boot on in the dead middle of winter. At night. With a disgruntled sigh I removed the lone boot and tossed it into the street. To be serenaded by a chorus of horns and curse words. Fuck it. At least I could walk more evenly. Still, I needed to fix this footwear situation and pronto. I was getting major looks that were reminiscent of the day after I became a zombie. Back then my clothes were stained in blood and I had no memory of what went down. Now, I had full memory and no boots to show for it, on top of looking like a sketchy, shady character, I was barefoot. A deep, overwhelming understanding of my situation, told me that if I didn't find a solution to this issue, I would definitely be stopped and questioned. Most assuredly by some type of law enforcement officer. Garnering attention that I did not want or need. Which is weird because the day after I became a zombie, I wasn't bothered at all. Sure. I was given weird looks by folks passing me by and fellow pedestrians but zero cops presented their concern. In fact no one interfered or interrupted my journey. Made it all the way home, in clothes drenched in blood. To this day, I still don't know, how I pulled that one off. Cause there was no way I was getting away with that same stroke of luck tonight. Fortunately, the shoe shop on the corner, told me that I wouldn't have to rely on such a thing.

Pushing through the front door, I walked briskly to the back. Briefly allowing my eyes to pan across the shelves, I found what I was in search for almost instantaneously. Replacement boots. Black. Size 13. Perfect. Sold. I had them on my feet within minutes and marched straight to the front counter. Empty box in hand, fully intent on paying. Just because I steal brains from the recently deceased doesn't mean I'm a thief in every sense. Except when I got there and the cashier opened up the box, she seemed genuinely confused. Blowing a bright green bubble, from the gum that she was chewing, she went through the entire inflation and popping process before she spoke.

"There's no shoes in this box."

She blinked her enormous, brown eyes and repeated the whole bubble procedure again. Those eyes though, they were unreal. Like taken off some sort of cartoon anime character gigantic. Sailor Moon type stuff.

"There used to be boots in there but now they're on my feet."

Jaw in constant motion, she tilted her head and then snickered.

"You came in here barefoot?"

"Yep."

Another green bubble.

"No shoes, no service."

"That's a great policy to have and enforce if you had stopped me before I put the boots on but since they're on my feet, technically it doesn't apply."

The cashier furrowed her brows and scratched the side of her head, ruffling up her shoulder length blond hair. Allowing the myriad collection of brown roots to be seen.

"Wait. I'm confused."

"It's cool Jenna, I got this."

A voice came from behind me as a girl with a black mohawk, pushed past me and walked behind the counter, literally shoving Jenna to the side as she took over command of the register. Dressed in tight jeans, a Misfits t-shirt and spiked leather bracelets, she most assuredly, caught my eye. Too bad I was a member of the undead and a simple interest in a female came with loads of complications.

"That'll be twenty bucks."

"The price on the box says..."

"Way overpriced, I know what was paid to the manufacturer, so the cost is twenty bucks. Think of it as a special, damn the man, sale. Provided by yours truly."

"Okay."

A brief chuckle escaped me as I handed over twenty dollars, watching on in slight amusement as the girl stuffed the cash in her pocket.

"Now you can use the remainder to buy me something to eat. I'm starved and bored. And you? You seem like the cure for boredom."

Grinning broadly, she retrieved a leather biker jacket; loaded with patches, pins and an assortment of various words and phrases that seemed to be scrawled on the jacket via a paint marker, from behind the register and slid over the counter. Her boots firmly placed on the other side as she simultaneously slid into her jacket.

"Jenna, I'm leaving now, I'll be back never. Or tomorrow. I'm not sure which."

Jenna picked herself off the floor and blew away a portion of hair that fell in front of her face, reaching down to pick up the piece of gum that she lost when she was shoved. She gazed at it for a moment and then popped it back in her mouth.

"Alright, see you later."

Jenna's words immediately provoked an eye roll from the girl with the mohawk as she walked towards the door. Stopping short only to call over her shoulder.

"Tell Bret to go fuck himself."

The girl exited the store, halting her trajectory once outside, she held the door open as wide as possible and yelled back inside.

"Hey, Trent Reznor! Are you coming?"

Something in my gut told me that this girl was trouble but at the same time, another part of me didn't care. As I passed through the door, I knew which portion prevailed. It seemed my adventure wasn't over.

"Once more I find myself defending my most prestigious title."

"Booked in a match. A triple threat. Against Dolly Waters and Scully."

"Being somewhat new still, I'm not really familiar with either of them. The only knowledge that I have is what I've witnessed recently. Since Dolly made her return before Scully, there's a little more... recent video footage, available pertaining to her and what she's done. Not to mention the fact that she released two promos relating directly to our upcoming fight."

"Hey there, Dolly. I heard what you said and thank you for your concern but I assure you, I am in possession of all of my faculties. Trust me on this one. The decline wouldn't take long, a day maybe two at the most and if I had lost myself to the monster within, you'd see news reports about a zombie infestation, well before our match ever took place. Most likely the match wouldn't be an event that was even occurring anymore, if something horrible like that happened. No worries though. My thoughts are clear and as vividly lucid as ever."

"As for my therapy session, that really wasn't set for me to discuss Drezdin. I just mentioned him because he was my opponent that week. My therapist was curious why he didn't concern me, so I elaborated. His odd promo and recognition of me was a tad eyebrow raising but nothing more. No, I'm seeing a shrink to find a way to maybe control the rage that overtakes me, when I'm in midst of a match. A means to eliminate those episodes because personally, I don't want to bring that element into the ring. Not if it poses a hazard to everyone involved. No part of me wishes my curse on anyone. My goal is to control it, thus eliminating the risk factor. Maybe then I'll be able to willfully transition and use that to my advantage, without posing a threat that promises infection and ultimately death. I am able to do something close to that outside of the ring but it seems that during combat, it's still far too dangerous to attempt."

"With that being said. You have my word that I will do my best to contain myself during our fight. No need to go Walking Dead or Fear The Walking Dead on me."

"Also, while I appreciate the offer, I wouldn't want to feast on Scully's brain. I don't get my sustenance from the living and I'll more than likely eat before our match. Thanks for the offer though."

"Speaking about Scully, like I said I don't know much about him, nothing beyond what I've seen recently. Anyway Scully, if I may direct these words to you now, you seem to have an impressive list of accolades attached to your name, so I assume that means you've got talent in the ring. Despite the mockery I've heard directed towards you, I doubt you'd have a list of accomplishments if you were nothing more than a joke. So I'm going to choose to remain optimistic that you'll pose a worthy challenge when it comes time for us to take part in combat within the squared circle. Till then I look forward to hearing from you."

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