Promo Confrontation II

[The Ill One 0]

OoC: I just had a promo where I confronted Edwin as SJL commish with the same title, so this is the second one. Intense~! Enjoy (hopefully).

 

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(Grand Slam sits in his traveling office, trying to get a feel for the room while being hunched over in his black swivel chair doing paperwork on his finished, oak desk. He suddenly drops his pen and leans back in his chair. He sighs heavily as it’s been a long week for the SWF commissioner. Before he can even focus back to the paperwork he hears an argument outside).

 

Mark gives a half smile before reaching over to the phone, pressing a button. “Can you get security? Okay, thanks.” He looks back up as the door swings open, smacking against the wall.

 

Insane Luchador stands tall, looking very pissed off as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He wears his hair in the usual spiked up fashion, his wild and intense eyes staring into Stevens’, the baggy khakis, the black skate shoes, and a Misfits skull shirt. He blows the smoke up and is appearing to try to cool himself down.

 

Stevens cocks his head to the side slightly, moving towards the only window in his office and seemingly the only window in the area. He opens it up due to get some air circulation as Luchador is smoking like a fiend.

 

“You know those things will kill you,” Grand Slam tries to joke around with a phony smile plastered onto his face.

 

Luchador smirks and tugs it out of his mouth. “I figure I’ll be killed wrestling or fighting long before these get in my way,” He says as he takes another long drag just in spite of Grand Slam.

 

“Okay, so what’s up? What’s happened?” The Commissioner asks.

 

The cigarette almost falls out of Rickmen’s mouth as his jaw drops. “What’s happened?” He sputters. “What’s happened? What the hell do you think?” He walks closer to his desk.

 

Grand Slam suddenly realizes what’s wrong and shuts his eyes. “Andrew, look-”

 

“No Mark, I won’t look,” IL tries to calmly say. “You scheduled my usual appointment for tomorrow, in the wrong FUCKING CITY. Do you want me to be there for the damn show or not? Overwhelming me before my first defense? What the fuck, man?” His voice gradually raises and with a puff of smoke he begins to pace.

 

“I know. I know. My fault, I promised you the show off but Toxxic caught me off guard with his choice,” Mark tries to explain like a mother explaining to a little kid why he can’t have a pony.

 

“Fuck Toxxic, man! That little shit is good but why the hell did he chose me?” IL roars.

 

“I don’t know!” Mark yells and then takes a gulp, calming down. “I wasn’t preparing for it, none of us were. Okay? Just try to settle down,” Mark suggests as he glances back down at his papers, flipping through them quickly.

 

Suddenly another man enters and Luchador turns around, eyes wide with anger. Toxxic stands there with a smug grin on his face. He looks down at his bare arm as if he had a watch on and looks back up with a rather charming smile.

 

“Oh Christ,” Stevens mutters as his head falls into his airs with frustration.

 

“Am I on time? I thought I heard somebody talking to me,” Toxxic says and acts as if he doesn’t notice the intimidating Luchador walk right up to his face. The end of IL’s cigarette is grazing against Toxxic’s nose. Luchador takes a very long drag and holds it as the two competitors stare each other down.

 

The tension rises as Luchador blows the cigarette smoke into Toxxic’s face, and he turns his head and gags.

 

“You little prick,” Luchador says condescending as he shoves Toxxic, who suddenly goes from asshole to alert. He shoves the Luchador back and then switches spots so Luchador’s back is to the door. “Think you can take me, on? Huh?” He shoves again and Stevens stands up.

 

“Rickmen, please,” Mark begs as he wonders where the hell security is or who brought the donuts to the area.

 

“What do you mean think? I know I can take that precious title from you,” Toxxic retorts. “You’re old, Andrew, and I’m the type that kill the old school,” he says with a wide grin.

 

Luchador grabs the cigarette and throws it straight to the ground, not bothering to stomp it out, as he rips off his shirt and draws back his arm-

 

But Stevens grabs Andrew and just as security arrives the three bulking men grab and ignore IL’s rant with fluent swearing. “Toxxic you better get fucking ready, I’m not going to make you tap, I’m going to make you fucking die!” Finally after a struggle Luchador is thrown out and Mark slams the door shut with his back, panting.

 

He glares at Toxxic and slowly shakes his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Mark demands.

 

Toxxic smirks.

 

“Don’t give me any attitude, damn it, now you’ve gone off and pissed Rickmen off!” Mark barks like that nice teacher who finally loses it.

 

Toxxic rolls his eyes as he looks down and smashes IL’s half-spent cigarette.

 

Mark sighs and again has to calm himself down. “Look. IL is a good guy, he can be misguided but he’s okay. I mean I make him see a psychiatrist at least twice a month to make sure he’s mentally stable to fight. He’s not one you want to push his buttons,” Mark advises.

 

“For what? Just to make sure he doesn’t run into Afghanistan again?” Toxxic laughs and Stevens clears his throat.

 

Mark walks closer and Toxxic can’t help but to take a baby step back. Grand Slam’s finger pokes at Toxxic. “To make sure he doesn’t go off the deep end during a match and snap. You know what happens then? What’s happened to two of my former friends now, two broken necks, two broken careers and lives. I don’t want to see any human go wild like that and especially none of my wrestlers. You’re still new and despite what you think, you DON’T know everything that goes on with my employees. Okay? I’m not letting someone like you ruin someone like Rickmen. He’s put too much time and effort into this just to let a few simple words make him snap.” Mark pauses. “It won’t be pleasant for you either if you keep this up, and that my friends,” Mark smiles wide. “Is a damn promise.”

 

Toxxic’s mouth hangs open a little bit before he walks by Stevens, his shoulder bumping into the Commissioners. “You’re not too many friends around here… watch yourself,” Stevens gives the final words as advice as the speechless Toxxic leaves.

 

 

FIN

 

Been a long time since I've written a promo so show mercy.

[Toxxic 0]

I like it.

 

[bUGS BUNNY] Of course, you know that this means war...[/bUGS BUNNY]

[HVilleThugg 0]

Nice.

 

Da "man of little words" H