New Purpose

New Purpose

Posted on November 18, 2023 at 11:58 pm by Darin Zion

“Honest to GOD right now:  I have no fuckin’ idea why I’m in this match right now.

I don’t deserve it.  I haven’t done anything to warrant a World Title shot in nearly half a decade.  The last time I was on HOW television—my own henchmen laid my ass out in front of the world.  There’s obviously no fuckin’ story left for Darin Zion to tell anymore in an HOW ring.  Seriously, my back’s busted, I don’t have that fire left in the tank to really cut a seething promo to save my life.

Seriously, why the fuck should I pack my bags and fly out to some shit hole in Lincoln, Nebraska to risk my own fuckin’ life against Diet Terminator and The Most Chad-like dad ever.  Hell, why in the fuck would I want to team with some asshole who’s fuckin’ hated my guts for like the past 10 years.

Sure, he might try and play nice; say some words to butter me up—

No!  Fuck that shit!  It’s no secret we annoy the fuck out of each other.  It’s also no secret that I’m one petty ass motherfucker that holds a grudge…

Yeah, I don’t feel like putting on the Boy Scout Uniform right now.  It’s no secret I hate Mike Best.  Hell, it’s no secret that I waited until 11:59 because honestly, I’d rather be spending time at Build a Bear than reading Mike’s high promos right now, trying to strategize for a match I’m gonna fuckin’ lose.

Mike and I have zero chemistry.  Hell, oil and water would make a better fuckin’ tag team to face against the Final Alliance at this point than us.  I’m basically walking into Nebraska to sign my retirement check at this point.  Get that Lloyds of London paycheck ready for me boys.  I damn well know there’s a knee and a few powerbombs in my future.  The Final Alliance hates me, Mike hates me.

I’m about to sail off into the sunset one rich mother fucker.

It’s not like I’m anything special anymore.  Seriously, who the hell wants a washed up, smiling, loveable rascal in a bloodsport.  It’s over played, banal, garbage.  It reeks of the same old shit, different day.

Truth be told, it’d be a PRIME opportunity to just defect…”


Darin Zion flips the camera off and just rests his head into his hands.  He lets out a long-drawn exhale as he contemplates his future.  Something’s weighing on his heart.  He sits around, pondering his life decisions; finally coming to the grand decision—“FUCK IT”, flipping the camera back on.

“Fuck it, you know what?  Blaze of fuckin’ glory?  Right?  No more sad shit.  Life’s too fuckin’ short to be a defeatist at this stage of the game.  If this is my last match; you know what?  I’m gonna do things my fuckin’ way.  I’m going to do something that makes everyone fuckin’ talk about for years to come.  I’ll make a GOD DAMN impression.  And at this point, I don’t give a fuck who likes what I do or not.

I’m tired of the little voices in my head sewing doubt.  I’m fuckin’ exhausted overthinking my future, looking to please whatever sad fuckin’ cowboys or GODs that blow up my fuckin’ DM box.  What I do this week; it’s my future.  It’s my story.  My prerogative at this point of the game.  All you little Discord Drama Club bitches can line up after this week and kiss my shiny ass.

You may consider what I am doing a missed opportunity.  But what I do this week, well…it’s called preservation.  For the last ten years; I’ve wasted time loving all you fat, worthless hacks in the HOW audience.  I’m spent my time kissing the asses of the low life backstage workers.  I’ve crawled on my hands and knees begging to pay my dues like a good little lap dog.  I’m jumped on grenades hoping someone would sings my praises at the top of the hills.

What I do in Lincoln, Nebraska is simple.  I will take back my self-dignity.  There’s going to be haters.  GREAT!  Talk your fuckin’ shit.  But after this weekend—get ready.  After this point, we’re done with wallowing in self-pity.  We’re done making excuses.  This is the last fuckin’ easy weekend after this point.

What happens next…well…you’ll see soon enough.”

Zion flicks the camera off and turns his attention to an envelope sitting next to his bed.  He smiles as he cracks his fingers.  He picks up his duffel bag, heavier than normal.  For the first time in years, Darin feels a sense of purpose before the scene fades to black.