METHODS OF MADNESS: As you can see, there is a picture change, incase someone didn't see on the resume page. I figured it was time to let everyone have a peak into Zarek's career so far in the industry. I don't do much NC threads, because I'm honestly not that great at them, but it was actually pretty fun. I had fun going back and writting a brief roleplay from the past. My next couple of rps in this thread will be going from small time fed to small time fed that Zarek's been in. Enjoy My mother had always said that when she looked into my eyes, she could tell what I was thinking. It's said that your eyes are the windows to your soul, and she believed that whole-heartedly. She had always expressed that when she looked into my cloudy eyes, she could understand where I was going in life. She often said that my eyes reflected my goals, my ambitions, and my future, which appeared to be nothing. I suppose I did have that sort of look that I didn't exactly know where I was going, or how I was going to get there. I had that kind of wandering look in my eye, that said I would add up to hardly anything. What nobody knew, is that I knew exactly where I was going, and exactly how I was going to get there. I knew what I would add up too, I've known for years. A bird fluttered overhead as I walked towards my destiny, it seemed just as unsure as I was. I had waited so long for this moment, and yet now that it was in my grasps, I could hardly bare it, it seemed unreal. I had gone by myself that day, skipping school just to come here. I'm sure my parents would be livid when they found out what I had done, but it would all be worth it in the end, or so I thought. I walked towards the enlarged circus tent, and knew what would lie upon it's boundaries. I had been watching the small time indy fed known as tCw for quite some time now, and this my chance to see them live. They were operating out of something that looked like a circus tent a couple blocks away from our apparentment. He was taller than I had imagined, Frankie Stallion that is. On television, you never get the right perception of how big an individual is. They anounced him to be about 5'11" and had always made remarks about his hiegth, but in reality, he wasn't very small at all, possibly around average. I has snuck backstage in order to meet him. How could I go to an event such as this and not go the extra mile to meet my favorite superstar. I watched it on television, the day that he won the tCw World Heavyweight. To say that I had any better days in my life, would be a straight lie. Pathetic, I know, but to see tCw was my life would be an understatement. I stood near the door, looking at him down the hall, wondering if I should proceed foreward. It seemed almost fake, was I really standing just a few feet away from the man that I've indiolized for so long? Although I didn't know it at the time, it would be the first deceit of the day. He had black curly hair, and I could tell he had a lot of chest hair from his low shirt. He was very musclular, I can give him that much. The tCw World Heavyweight Championship was slung over his shoulder, of course, and my gaze landed on it. Maybe it was the sine that caught my eye, or the fact that I had never seen a piece of gold that big before, but it looked so great, I wanted it for my own. His name was engraved into the bottom of it, showing just who it belongs too. I decided that one day my name would be engraved into the bottom of a beauty like that, but it would look much better. My gaze moved from the belt on his shoulder, and his eyes caught mine. He was the first to speak. "Ciao bambino, what are you doing back here?" He was italian, and often mixed the italian language with the english one. It had always been hard for me to understand exactly what it was that he was saying, so I had always just guessed. I knew that ciao meant hi, but every time I tried to think of the meaning to bambino, Babe Ruth came to mind. "Zarek, sir. I mean, my name is Zarek Lyle, Mr. World Champion Frankie Stallion, sir." Just hearing the words coming out of my mouth, there was no doubt in my mind that he could tell how nervous I was. Hell, after registering what I had just said, even I could tell how nervous I was. I hoped it didn't come off as petty as I had heard it sound. I hoped it didn't come off to wide-eyed, to amazed, to starstricken, either, because I knew how celebrities hated that, though I'm sure it does wonders for their ego. He looked at me with an odd gaze for a second. I knew why, it was because of my name. Zarek. Not a very common name, yes. A greek combination of Zack and Darrick it always sounded like to me. I do believe it was the name of some greek god or something along those lines. But I found it no reason for him to give me such a look. I figured it was strange for Frankie Stallion to treat an individual, let alone a kid this way. Then it came upon me that I was more than likely being paranoid. All the same, I ended up shrugging it off in the end, "It's greek..." I added for insurance. His odd gaze quickly went away after hearing these words. Another let down of the day. It seemed as if my hero was somewhat of a racist of some sort. It could be possible that if I said it was German or Dutch, he would have shoved me away. Either that, or he wasn't to bright. I was very confused by his actions. "So anyway Zarek, what brings you backstage at this hour? Don't you know they're about to start the mid-card division matches. Don't you want to be out there to watch them compete? There's supposed to be some pretty good matches taking place tonight." "Yes sir, I understand. But, with all due respect to the mid-division superstars, I came here to see you. It's the main reason why I am back here in the first place. I wanted to meet you." Crap, another star-stucken comment towards my idol, who was probably begining to feel a bit annoyed with me at the moment. I come backstage, I stand here and cramp his style, make him talk to a little kid, and then faun over his every move. Good going, Zarek, you really showed some self-control on that one. I thought about what I could say to turn things around, to retract my statement without seeming insulting. "I have tons of posters of you on my wall." Damn. Nerves are obviously getting to me. I need a drink of water or something, maybe then I wouldn't be letting slip these embarressing statements. Oh well, to late to take it back now. At the moment, all I could do was think about his response and what exactly was running through his mind at the moment. Would he think it flattering, that I was his number one fan? Or would he believe me to be a completely obsessed maniac?  He took a breath and then a smile came across his face. It seemed so easy and so natural, but I was glad it was a smile. "Wow, I must say that I am mighty impressed. I really am quite flattered. You came all this way just to see me?"  A sigh of relief came from my mouth, that I instantly wished wasn't to revealing. I wanted to scream at him, of course I did, you're pretty much the greatest wrestler that ever lived and I'd easily be persuaded to shine your shoes...but I had to have atleast some self-respect. "Of course, I mean, not only are you the World Champion, but you're my favorite wrestler, my hero." Ugh. I swear, the things I say under pressure should not be held against me. You're my hero. *tear*. Try cheesy 101. All the same, a  wide smile spread across his face, looking as if he had accomplished something. Hmm...maybe this wouldn't be a complete disappointment. He then proceeded to let out a miniscule laugh. "Let me ask you something bambino. You see, it just so happens that my street team around here is in need of a leader. Would you by any chance be interested in that?"  I stopped breathing right there. Well, I'm sure I was breathing, but it didn't feel like it. In tCw everyone had some sort of fan club or street team or whatever. Even the openers had small followings. To be the leader of one of these indicated you as the envy of the rest of the members. The leader had special jobs to do, like tell everyone what the superstar is doing next in his career and whatnot. In order to do that, the leader had to be in contact with the superstar. A call at home from Frankie Stallion seemed so unreal. I suddenly realized I was probably drooling and snapped out of it. "I'm not sure what to say. Well I...I uhh...well uhh..." I stumbled over my words, and for some reason the word yes, and any other positive word of the sort, was no longer in my vocabulary. I stood there babling incoherently, hoping to god I would be able to save myself from disaster. He started laughing a bit, and my face must have been as red as a cherry fresh from the vine.  I mustered up whatever dignity I had left and nodded with glee, "Most definitely..." The combined feeling of anxiety, and the fact that I really didn't know what to say in the first place, created the cheesiest response of a lifetime. All the same, he seemed to understand. "Also, I have a favor to ask of you. I'd like for you to hold onto this for me..." He lifted the tCW World Heavyweight Championship from it's rightful resting place, his shoulder. What happened next almost sent me into epileptic shock, I swear. He placed it upon my own shoulder, smiling down at me. It was lighter than I expected. It always looked so heavy on T.V. but then again, they always say the camera adds ten pounds. "We both know I won't be losing it anytime soon." I was probably smiling from head-to-toe, but a mirror wasn't handy, so I could only guess. It was at this moment that I decided maybe this day wasn't going to be a complete let down. I tried to open my mouth, to thank him or something, but he beat me to the punch. "Now go out there and where it with pride. I'll see you after the match, alright?" I knodded and obediantly obeyed, taking the title with me out towards the doorway. It had to be the best day of my life, without a doubt. Atleast, that's how it was going at the current moment. I thought this would be a complete disaster, and it was turning around. Keyword, was. As I walked towards the door, a sudden flash of light caught my eye. A light from the opened door had entered the room, and reflected off of something, causing a slight flash towards me. The cameraman was facing me, and a second later turned the lense back towards Frankie Stallion. Had they been filming this whole time? As a promo or something of that sort? Before I could ask, a man's voice from behind, answered my question. "Wait until the kid's gone...fade out...and cut! Good work Frankie, good work. It's just the moment we've been trying to capture for your face change. Now the people will view you as the good guy. This was brilliant. I almost believed that bullshit." dsdsds