PROMO: Keys

[Guest GLWUT]

Strolling down the street, Leo Breslin has a bold look about him and a spring in his step. The warm spring day permits a short-sleeved white shirt with a simple pair of black pants. He looks flawless, his face free of blemishes and his aura pure overall.

 

Leo Breslin: Why not? That’s what I figured. Why not? Why not walk back down that ramp and put Viktor Tarakanov’s foot on that bottom rope? Why not throw the ultimate curveball and absolutely alter the outcome of a match? Not only did I add another few seconds to the European Title bout, but I managed to make the assumed victor the foolish loser. John Duran eliminated me… and he was going to beat Tarakanov. But that seemed a little too boring for me, so I decided to move in and take control even if I was no longer part of the match. I’m sure Duran is frustrated… maybe even pissed. Thing is, I don’t care much. What’s he going to do? Beat me up? Yeah, like I haven’t had my ass handed to me by men close to seven feet tall in the past. He won’t do anything to me that I haven’t gone through before.

 

Breslin veers to his left and his arm extends. His hand opens and clutches the handle of a glass door. Pulling it open, he stands inside and enters the large and open lobby of a five-star hotel.

 

Leo Breslin: And Viktor… Viktor, my Russian stereotype full of anti-American sentiment. You’re probably going to tell me that you didn’t need or want my help… that you wanted to lose respectably… or that you would've freed yourself and won based on your own skill. As much as I dislike bursting one’s bubble, let me be the one to tell you that you did need my help. The world knows how much you wanted that title… how, deep down inside that Russian soul of yours, you want a shred of Europe in you so you can receive a bit of dignity. You’re glad that I came and helped you. You’re glad that I screwed Duran over and helped you out. You’re glad that the European Title is now yours… and that you now have a chance to become number one contender to the World Title. Tell me Viktor… what’s it like to know that all your success is attributable to one man? It must feel nice to know that without Leo Breslin, you’d be in the same spot your entire career.

 

Upon reaching the elevator, Breslin waits for the door to open. It does seconds later, and he steps inside, pressing the proper button to bring him to his floor.

 

Leo Breslin: Why did I do it? I could easily say “Why not?” and leave it at that… but then I’d be lying. So instead, I’ll be as forthright with you as I can. I have no colorful manager that keeps me stuck in the 70s and brings forth hatred. I have no heavy Russian background or strong negative opinions on the United States that would make people despise me. People don’t flock to me and my over-the-top hardcore or high-flying theatrics. I’m just Leo Breslin… professional wrestler who hopes to reach the top one of these days… or at least a foothill. I need something. I need to be fueled. I need people to love me or hate me. I know what I need, exactly. And I’ve found it.

 

Out of the elevator by this time, Leo is now walking down the empty hallway. Nearing his door, he slows down. He knocks lightly, and a voice on the other side answers.

 

Voice: Come on in, Leo. You’ve got a big match ahead of you.

 

Leo grins to himself.

 

Leo Breslin: Call it a James Matheson. Call it a backwards Russian mindset. Call it an insane gothic-type persona. Call it anything that brings attention. Thing is… it’s my key to success… GRAND success.

 

Stepping into the room, Leo closes and locks the door behind him.

[Guest SupaTaft]

Damn brother! If you can promo like this, then do it more often!

 

I really enjoyed the promo man, extremely well written and helped your character loads.

 

/me grumbles that he could have won that match by himself...

 

Keep it up man.

 

-Taft

[Guest Ace309]

(Y) Good stuff.

[Guest Aecas]

Very nice promo