Promo- Into the Fire

[The Ill One 0]

Inside the dimly lit room the screeching sound of a steel chair being dragged against cement can be heard. Suddenly the chair gets kicked into place in front of the camera and the Ill One slowly sits down, head tilted down, and heavily sighs. Finally he looks up and gives a grin before addressing the camera-

 

“Do you think that I’m not used to violent situations? Do you think that I’ve been dubbed the Ill One because I’ve made a career out of rolling around on the canvas trying to tie up others’ limbs? Do you think that I’ve gained these scars, every single one, from trying to drop others on their head or being dropped onto mine? Am I completely delusional; am I really considered –that- insane now? Because, shit, I can’t help but to wonder after watching Va’aiga’s lil’ showing. Cute. See, all I saw was somebody who was throwing a temper tantrum after losing a World Title shot to a no name and now is trying to compensate, regain some self-esteem by running his mouth about the upcoming flaming tables match. So does anybody here doubt that this match, despite how severe the stipulation is, is the most dangerous situation I’ve faced? That this is some sort of epitome of violence… that being thrown against a flaming piece of wood that’ll get extinguished immediately is some sort of daunting task? I know, I know… I’m not the most popular, prolific, terrific wrestler out there… but has somebody forgotten what I’ve been through? What I’ve endured, what I’ve inflicted… because after seeing that video… I’m inclined to think that somebody has…”

 

He stops himself and visibly calms down, rolling his shoulders, and subconsciously running his fingers along a scar along his eyebrow before continuing-

 

“It ain’t personal, it ain’t personal, it ain’t personal, right?” Insane Luchador says with a little laugh. “It ain’t personal, I’m going to fuckin’ roast you but it ain’t personal, right? It’s just a lil’ rant, just a lil’ venting, and just a lil’ hissy fit tirade, right? But, hey, man, it’s nothing personal, right?”

 

He takes a deep breath and the corners of his mouth raise into his signature psychotic smile and continues-

 

“I know why it’s not personal and you know why, don’t you, Va’aiga? Yeah, we both do but I don’t think the others do- is it because we’re professionals? No. Is it because it’s what we’re paid to do? No. Is it because what we’ve chose to do, the path we’ve gone down and it’s inevitably time for those paths to cross? No. Is it because this is therapeutic for us? No. Is it out of respect? Hell no. So I know, I know what all you are thinking… so why isn’t it personal? How can a motherfucker spew such empty threats only to follow it with claims that it isn’t personal?” He laughs once again, calming down, and shrugs.

 

“It’s pretty basic.”

 

He pauses.

 

“It’s pretty simple.”

 

He pauses even longer while a smirk creeps onto his face.

 

“It’s pretty pathetic.”

 

He laughs before finally answering his own question-

 

“He doesn’t want to make it personal. No, he doesn’t want to make it personal but the big bad Maori Badass wouldn’t want to admit that would he? No, why would he? Why not keep up the façade, right, why not keep the image intact, right?”

 

He stops to let the thought sink in.

 

“See, I’m not one to take too kindly to threats, whether they’re empty, wishful thinking, or just some sort of bullshit psychological mind games, it’s just not something I take well. It’s not something that I can shrug off very easily, matter of fact, it’s something that I can’t and won’t forget. He doesn’t want to make it personal with me, no, because that’s bringing a whole new element into this match- you don’t want me to feel threatened, you don’t want me to feel backed into the corner because to say I come out swinging…”

 

Yet another pause.

 

“Well, that’s me being modest. I don’t come out swinging, I come out looking to slaughter and annihilate and I won’t be stopped until I’m down and out for the count… and that, well, that isn’t an easy feat even for somebody like Va’aiga. See, I don’t think Landon Maddix really thought this one through, I don’t really think that he realized just how violate this all is. I don’t think he wondered if it’d result in Va’aiga claiming I’d become decapitated and have my head served on a platter. Hell, I don’t think he thought that if Va’aiga wants to throw around threats then I can guar-an-fuckin’-tee that Va’aiga will be burnt like a roasted pig, strung up against a pole, carried out by paramedics and have an apple crammed down his throat.”

 

He clears his throat and looks straight into the camera, leaning forward and pointing.

 

“So it ain’t personal, is that what you want? It’s just business, it’s just ‘how you roll’ maybe? Fuck, I don’t know and I don’t care but I’ll tell you this- I’ll tell you this one thing coming into all this…”

 

He smiles.

 

“Far as I’m concerned, it’s going to become personal.”

 

He stands up and leans even closer into the camera before spitting onto the lens, sarcastically making the Shaka sign, and whispering, “Boo-yah.”

 

[Toxxic 0]

IL, if you can write a match half as good as this promo was, Va'aiga's in for a real fight. Respect to you my friend.