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Zane Norrison · (09-11-2019)

It stares up at me, as I stare down upon it. The mask. Sent to me courtesy of the XWF per Atticus Black's request. Hah! Sent. That requires money spent on shipping charges. Far too costly for the XWF. They didn't even put it in a box. It was just stuffed in my mailbox, as is. Ready to greet me, in all it's horrifying glory, when I retrieved my mail after work. Quite the wonderful "surprise" really. I understand, I'm a biter. I don't mean to be but thems the breaks when you lose your wits and you happen to be an undead abomination. Still this was a bit much. At least I think so. I mean... damn, it was a carbon copy, replica of the one worn by Hannibal Lecter. Real nice and most likely purposefully done to make an incredibly stark point. We've given you enough chances. We're sick of your shit. I get it. I really do but c'mon, look at this thing. The whole concept felt like zombie castration. It mocked me and reminded me that at the end of the day, I'll be nothing more than a monster.

A knock at the door jerks me out of my self pity spiral and with a sigh, I summon the strength to answer it, since I'm really in no mood for company at the moment. It should alarm me, that it's a knock at the door leading into my actual apartment and not a buzz outside the main one but there are quite a few idiots living in my building. Trusting and stupid. Which explains how the mask was stuffed inside my mailbox and no, our boxes don't require keys. Shocking? Not if you knew my landlord. He's cheap. Real cheap. No locks, means not paying for keys or future replacement keys and locks, should the need arise for the latter. It's fairly shitty but what can you do? No one has stolen my mail yet... not that I know of anyway.

Anyhow, I begrudgingly walk to the door and don't even bother to ask who's there. I'm a fucking zombie, if it's a crazed lunatic or some sort of sadistic murderer, it's his mistake for knocking on my door. Not mine for opening it. When I do this I am greeted by the sight of my father.

Judah Norrison

"Dad. What an..."

Unusual. Awkward. Ill timed. Think Zane, think and use the right words.

"Unexpected surprise."

Attaboy Zane. Later you can reward yourself with a cookie. The ones you baked the day before. Chocolate chip and brains.

"What brings you all the way from Detroit?"

My father smiles at me in a strange sort of way that I never seen before, it's almost unnerving and somewhere in the back of my mind, a warning sign is triggered but I ignore it. It's my dad after all, what's the worst that could happen, right?

"I just had something I had to talk to you about. Can't a father show up; unannounced, if he has something he wishes to discuss with his son?"

"Yeah. You can show up, out of the blue, anytime you want but most definitely if you wish to talk to me about something."

I step back and allow my father space to enter the apartment and then I shut the door. He walks a few paces inside and like a radar signal was triggered, his eyes meet the mask. Shit. Not something I wanted to have happen. What with him and my mother not knowing I'm a card carrying member of the living dead. Now what do I do? How will I lie my way out of this predicament?

"So that's the mask."

He says it so casually, all I can do is stand there stunned, trying not to let my jaw drop to the floor. Just as nonchalantly as his words, he walks over and picks it up, turning it about in his hands as he shakes his head.

"Oh son. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you what?"

"The truth! Why didn't you tell your mother and I the truth!"

"And what truth would that be?"

If I had been alive, I would have started hyperventilating and most likely passed out and hit the floor by then. Instead there I stood, coated in dread.

"That you're dead."

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"This Thursday Night on Anarchy, the world will get to see, Zane Norrison vs Big D. It's an interesting combination but I'm not one to discriminate against who's chosen as my opponent. I've heard and seen good things about Big D. We've both wielded the X-Treme title and he's a fellow 'star of the month' winner too. So we have some common ground. Our only difference is that he's got a pulse."

"I wonder how he'll take that? Facing an animated corpse. A walking, talking, wrestling cadaver. Most tend to become upset about this aspect. The thought of catching the curse frightens them and it very well should. I'm a vicious creature, that can turn rabid and wild, at the drop of a hat. It's unpredictable and dangerous, totally out of their control and the odds are only increased when the battle becomes heated. When things escalate and the fires of the fight are stoked, to the point where the flames are burning bright and high."

"That's when the chances that a truly deadly demon might stir and awake. Does that frighten you Daniel? I wonder. Does the chances of being torn apart and ripped to shreds, by an unyielding creature fit only for nightmares and the darkest depths of hell, put some pitch black clouds of doubt out there for you? It should. Because anything could happen tomorrow night. Nothing is written in stone. Not even I can say for certain, what may occur."

"I can promise this though. You're stepping into the ring with a being that doesn't get tired or winded and I will not stop nor will I stay down. And this being will come at you with an intense desire to put you down for the win. That's right, Daniel. I will do whatever it takes to claim that victory."

"Be afraid."

"Be very afraid."

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