07-25-2014, 08:01 PM
As usual, the camera flicks on, revealing another ordinary setting. This time, Reign appears on his couch, a bowl of popcorn at his side. For the first time in any promo, he sports his casual attire: jeans and a button-up. His face is expressionless, his eyes full of a cold malice.
"That was decent Gator. You actually caught me off guard, I wasn't expecting to have to respond to anything tonight. What's this crap you're saying again though? My gimmick is that I have no gimmick? No Gator, that's not what it is. See, if the XWF wasn't a giant cluster of Kevin Thorn knockoffs, superhero wannabies, and JBL relatives, I wouldn't say shit. But it is, and you're one of the worst offenders, so of course I'm gonna single you out. Apparently I also portray a big, strong man. Did I flex my muscles at you Gator? Did I come on here and grunt and foam at the mouth, with veins halfway popping out of my skin?"
Reign unbuttons his shirt, one at a time...with a painstakingly slow, yet constant, pace. When he finishes, he pulls the sides apart, revealing his chest.
"Do you see a 6-pack so well defined you could use it to teach a kindergarten class what a rectangle is? I didn't think so...so the only reason I can think of as to why you're throwing the tried and true 'steroid' accusation at me is because...it's generic. It doesn't take any creativity to look at a guy whose trained his ass off day in and day out, and immediately pretend I'm Batista. Or Hulk Hogan. Yes, I think I can kick your ass. I think I can leave you lying on the mat, looking up at the lights and wondering if you pulled a Cain and visited heaven. That doesn't mean I think I'm God. It doesn't mean I think I'm indestructible, because I don't. What it does mean, is if you think you can destroy me...if you think you can waltz in that ring and make a mockery of me, you're dead wrong."
"Apparently you also don't see me as a wrestler. Based from what? You don't seem the type to watch PWG or Chikara, so which matches have you seen? I KNOW you're not a wrestler, because all you do is trash talk. You ride around in the Gator Express with Michael Cole Jr. and talk shit. You do drugs...you show no commitment to the sport at all. Show me what you can do in that ring on Wednesday, and if you pin ME, I'll take it back. You're not gonna do that though, are you? You're gonna hide behind Socrates, a guy that I can already tell is going to be so much more of a threat than you. If you do decide to get in that ring with me, I guaran-freaking-tee you're gonna leave that arena knowing that you called out the wrong guy."
He decides to button his shirt back up, but this time he doesn't pause as he does so.
"The reason I cut what you call a 'generic promo' is because I don't pussyfoot around the match. You spend 90% of your time throwing out insults and shitty one-liners instead of looking at the MATCH. I look at the match, because just like I said earlier today, this is wrestling. You wanna be a loose-cannon Deadpool lookalike? Go work for Aaron Seltzer, he'll have a box-office disaster of a parody waiting for you. I'm going to choose to live the reality, and until these 'wrestlers' here in the XWF decide to remember what walk of life they're in, I'm going to remind you every...single...day. Call it a gimmick if you want, I don't care. It's who I am though, it's not a character I portray. I'm cold because my original purpose in life was taken from me, I'm intense because I'm damn determined my second choice won't fail as well, and I'm big..."
Reign mockingly flexes his muscles at the camera, revealing a little more tone than most would have guessed he had.
"...because I care about getting better. I can tell we're gonna spar, and we're gonna spar hard for the next week. You 'respect' Zoey because you wanna get your dick in something, and you honestly seem like you're a bit intimidated by Proxy. That, and the fact that I've singled you out over Socrates means you're gonna run your mouth at me until it falls off. And that's fine with me...because like I said, I'm not Batista and I'm not Hulk Hogan. I know how to talk as well as back it up, so if you wanna spar, let's freaking spar. And if I bore you, I could care less. I've already said I don't care about getting over, so if my promos don't entertain you, I guess your'e just out of luck then. You're still gonna have to watch 'em."
Reign rises from the couch and picks the camera up, turning it the TV that he was watching before the promo. On screen it shows him flattening El Generico with a Somber Reign, then placing him in Sorrow's Grip, forcing him to tap out. Reign turns the camera around, so that his face is the only thing visible...his trademark at this point.
"Generico had a mask too. Generico thought I was joke too. But just like you're going to, Generico got beaten. Oh, and Gator? My name's not Aaron Reigns. It's Aaron Reign. I don't want to be associated with that SuperCena clone in the WWE."
The camera shuts off.
|
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
