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~~Kid Kool~~ · **05-04-2016, 03:53 PM**

I am the fresh face of wrestling.
I am the future of this business.
I am the brand new pair of shoes all the geezers call "too flashy", "too shiny", "too loud and obnoxious".

Travvie? I am your worst fucking nightmare in the flesh--
The end of your era. Allow me to elaborate.

You asked one simple question; what would I do if a doctor told me to quit. There was a time in my career that I would have folded just as you surmised... No more. Now? I'd call them a liar. And I'd tell them to shove their prognosis up their ass. THAT'S what I'd tell any doctor who told me to step away from the industry I love. You tell me not to answer? I don't care. You drag my name through the muck? I don't care. You denote me as some run of the mill, ramen haired rookie?

I.
Don't.
Care.

You have no style. You're filled with substance, for sure, but you're full of something else-- your own pompous bullshit. You're damned right I am a happy-go-lucky, take things as they come, easy breezy babyface that lives for the thrill of it. I exhude a bright aura because I party every night, live life to full effect and never back down from a challenge. Drag races? I've blazed trails that would leave Paul Walker choking on my dust. B-ball? I dunk like Mike and shoot like Shaq. And when I step into the ring, I fly. No wings attached.

You wanna know why my first promo was a joke?
Because I had to return the laugh you gave me.

I may come off as a brash pretty boy, but underneath all that is a man with his sights set squarely on becoming a household name in this company. I don't do this for the cash, I do it for the adrenaline rush. And I expect nothing less than the best from you, Mr. McCoy. When we step into the ring together, I WILL surprise you, no question about it. Why? Because, while you expect a broom ready to be pulled to a five-star classic, you'll be met with the hottest young prospect in the XWF, ready to burn the fucking house down and leave everyone, from the front row to the balcony holding their breath, on the edge of their seats, gazing on as we blow the roof off the Trump International. Don' believe me?

You will. BANK on it, blowhard.

You deride me about my cockiness, but how can you talk about a guy like me when you ARE a guy like me? You may not be a so-called "pretty boy", but you damned sure take every chance to blow smoke up your own ass and shove your egotistical, narcissistic vocal propaganda down the throats of anyone who'll lend an ear. You're a dose of chloroform, I'm the spark that ignites a city-wide inferno. At least my big mouth doesn't put people to sleep. Just sayin'.

That first promo I released captured the Warfare fans. You know, those with an IQ lower than the number of people who watched iMPACT last week. 14, 15, who's counting. THIS? This is Savagery at its finest. I don't have to spend thirty minutes talking because I allow my work in the ring to speak for me, and it speaks volumes. I am a rookie, yes. I AM cocky, but you know what? I need to be. The XWF is a fucking jungle, and anyone who doesn't cut it is fed to the wolves. You aren't the top dog, Trav. You're great, I'll give you that, but you're a far cry from people like Robbie Bourbon, Tony Santos, Ann Thraxx, Eli James, Tush, Trax, Peter Gilmour or Vinnie Lane.

And come SSN? I'll show the world why.

You think you're the only one who knows how dangerous this is? This isn't my first rodeo, sir... I know. Trust me.

We could die any day, any moment, if anything goes wrong? We're gone.

I'll see you Saturday.

--tbc--

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