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Guest ToddRoyal

PROMO: Keep it Simple...

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Guest ToddRoyal

The camera fades in on a small studio interview set. A large wall covered in a blue cloth is the backdrop, and the picture is framed to show nothing outside of that ocean of fabric. In front of the screen stands one man, and one woman- Megan Skye, clad in a silver and purple mini dress is a step behind Todd Royal, who is dressed casually in khakis and a leather sports coat. Realizing the camera has hummed to life, Royal snaps off his sunglasses and stares into the lens.


“Hollywood Spike Jenkins. Y’know I used to think you were a complete waste of oxygen. Taking up space on Todd’s green Earth and not contributing a single thing to society, let alone the SJL. Turns out I wasn’t completely right. As I proved on Crimson, you DO have a use. You might even make a good disciple, if you weren’t so brain dead. See, you heard the word of Todd, and you believed. Like so many others, you flocked like a sheep to the golden words of your Todd and Savior, and you helped to destroy Sean Casey and Jacob Helmsley. But your usefulness only goes so far, and when I was done with you, I tossed you out like yesterday’s garbage.


And I figured that’d be the end of it. You’d slink away to some dark corner of the world to lick your wounds, and I- along with everyone else- would never have to see you again. And again, you prove me wrong. Like some bad movie franchise no one wants to see, you keep coming back. Worse yet, you parade around citing a victory over Todd Royal as a reason anyone should care about you.


Let me set the record strait, “Hollywood”. Let me tell the WHOLE story. Did you beat me? Sure. But like most other people putting that on their resume, there’s more than meets the eye. You’re no better than anyone else I’ve beaten. You couldn’t get the job done on your own, so it took stairs, chairs, and the help of Alan Clark just to pull off a fluke victory. Yeah, Spike, we’re all REAL impressed. Why don’t you regale us with tales of your storybook World Title run while we’re here.”


A smirk breaks out across the face of Megan Skye, as an increasingly angry Royal takes a moment to breath. Slipping off his coat and handing it to his valet, Todd rubs his chin and continues to speak.


“Next time, Jenkins, you won’t be quite so lucky. Sunday, January 18th, Wrath, Anaheim California. Right in your backyard. This time we do it the right way, the old fashioned way. No interference. No brawling on the outside. No tables, no chairs, NO mercy. You thought you were hurting when you left Crimson? You ain’t seen nothing yet. At Wrath, we’re going to keep it real simple. Leave the chairs at home, because I’m gonna cripple you with my bare hands…and THAT’s the Todd’s honest truth. Motherfucker.”



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