Legacy

The sun slowly creeps its way up on this July morning. The humidity has drops of water forming on the camera lense. Pulling back, you see the house that Kostoff owned. Still in tact, the camera begins to move slowly onto the yard. Typically by now, the Shepard would be out barking her fool head off. Not today. Silent. Zach’s car is parked in the driveway. Still, silent. Considering all the times coming here in the past you would hear music or banging of weights the silence is oddly comforting.

As the camera makes its way through the open door on the side of the garage, Zach is standing there with his back turned. Wearing shorts and a Under Armour t-shirt, he looks almost at home.

Zach: Fuck. This is bullshit, it reallt is. I’m not crying over a loss, I’m pissed off that I did it to myself. Shane is washed, I had him. God dammit.

He turns around and makes his way to the work bench. Smiling, he seems almost taken back in time.

Zach: This was the place that dad would bring me out to. We’d work on his Harley, his cars, get things in line for his travel. I loved and hated it all at the same time.

Zach: I hated that he would leave, leave and come back a mess. He loved this sport. He gave his all to it and for it.

The camera pans around, there are posters of shows from Japan with Kostoff on it. HOW, SSE …..he closes his eyes. His hands ball into fists as his breathing begins to pick up.

Zach: All those times he’d leave, and as a kid I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand. But see…

His eyes open.

Zach: Now I do. I get the way now. As a kid he would tell me stories of how he fought up and down the road to make a name for himself and to be able to provide for the family. More to the point, he carried feds. Yea, his record was shit and alot of the cunts in the back would make fun..but not one would ever confront him when there wasn’t a official around or a fed head near by.

Zach: I don’t need to wonder why.

Taking a step away from the work bench, his fists relax. His face, his eyes…not so much.

Zach: Maybe. Well not maybe, I know that I have been going light. I wanted to make a name for myself and not ride coat tails like others here do and have. I wanted to go about this the proper way.

Zach: But as I can see, being the good guy doesn’t get you shit. Being the good guy gets fucktards here talking shit. So, this is how shit is going to go down from here on out.

Zach: Starting this week. Dan Ryan and McLyane or whoever the fuck you are…I know that you two fucks are probably laughing and acting like hard asses, but this is the time for me to…take my dad’s legacy of violence and put my own twist on it.

Zach: Will be it be to the extent that his was? Maybe. It might be less, or hell it might be more.

He leans into the camera.

Zach: A three way dance, not what anyone wants to be in, but if I can get my hands on two guys and beat the fuck out of them then that will be fine by me.

Zach: I’m done playing the good kid. I’m done being the mild mannered person. Time to channel my inner Kostoff and remind mother fuckers that HOW was built on the shoulders of my dad. Remind mother fuckers that I am his fucking and his anger and rage roars through me as well.

Zach: I’ll see you mother fuckers in the ring.

He reaches out a hand and shoves the camera man back out the garage door. The scene fades to darkness