The camera flicks on, revealing Aaron Reign sitting in a folding chair in what appears to be his locker room. With his arms resting on his knees, he looks up at the camera with a solemn expression on his face for a few seconds with eyes that display a tenacious intensity on the surface, but betray flickering hints of a deeper emotion...a realer emotion underneath. Reign rises to his feet and cracks his neck before speaking.

"I could start this off by telling you my name. Hell, I could start this off by establishing some kind of ridiculous gimmick. I could put on a suit and let red Kool-Aid seep out of my mouth so I could put up the facade that I'm a 'demon'. I could buy a Rolex knockoff and put up a green screen of a mansion so I could pretend like I'm rich...like I'm a superstar. I could say 'fuck' every two words and I could make a sexual reference every single time I got behind a mic. I could even tell you that with no experience on the big stage, with no real reason to make the claim, that I'm already the best damn wrestler in this business."

Reign almost chuckles, before regaining that intensity in his eyes and continuing.

"I'm not going to do any of those things. I didn't come into this business to portray stereotypes. I realize that this isn't the 1980's anymore, that over-the-top rich guys and 'demons from hell' don't work in this era of wrestling. I'm damn sure not gonna tell you that I'm the best; I'm gonna do everything in my power, and I will say that I have a lot of that, to make it be true with actions. See, I got into this industry because it was the thing that I held on to when I lost something dear to me. Immersing myself in this...in this world of physical art...numbed the pain. The day I turned 18, I began training. Just like alcohol for most people, it drowned out the memories. It made me a man. It gave me something to strive for after I'd lost everything, and because of that, I've made up my mind. I want to be the greatest wrestler this industry has ever seen. I know that's not the first time you've heard that. Every single wrestler in the world wants that...but me? I'm different. This IS my life. I have no family, I have no friends, and I have no other aspirations in life. I'm not Chris Jericho."

Anger begins to burn through, his face a canvas to exhibit his raw emotions. His pain. His sorrow.

"I am a wrestler. I joined the X-Treme Wrestling Federation to show that. I joined the XWF to make a statement and show that I've graduated from indie shows. I've wrestled with the best of the best in those promotions, from Steen to both Jacksons to Okada. I don't need to play games to make something of myself. I couldn't care less whether I got 'over' with anyone. I came here to win matches, win titles, and leave bodies in my wake. No amount of hobbits or punk-rock band wannabies is going to stop that."

He calmly folds the chair back up and places it in a corner of the room, before making his way back to the camera, so close that only his face is visible.

"Now it's time you know my name. It's Aaron Reign, and that name is going to be remembered in this company for a long...long time."

Aaron moves back a bit, before sprinting at the screen. A man is heard groaning on the ground as a pair of feet are shown walking out of the room by the lopsided camera. The screen fades to black.



(OOC: I would appreciate any feedback via PM or something. This is the first post I've ever really made on an e-fed, so I'd like to know how I did.)