((Alright guys, sorry if it's a bit underwhelming. As I mentioned elsewhere, I'm going through a bit of a depression as of late and it's just been hard to find the motivation to write this week. Once my head slips out of my ass, I promise I'll work up some super-awesome, incredibly something or another to really promote the upcoming Strife-Paine match.))
"I've been around a long fucking time.."
This foreword gives way to the sight of XWA's most hated newcomer, hunkered down low with his back against the faded brick wall of a desolate and nearly forgotten gymnasium. He brings his right arm up, revealing a cigarette rest between his index and favorite finger. He stuffs the butt in between his lips and takes a long drag, it's conclusion growing brighter as the embers climb it's length and flood the lungs of the Barbarian Lord with his noxous vice. He pulls it back away and bellows out a dirty haze that hangs about a moment before drifting off for the clouds. Vladimir shoves the lit end into the asphalt beneath him and twists it out, tossing the refuse aside as he slinks down onto his bottom and straightens out his legs, seeming relaxed in the moment. His attire seems to accompany his slight shift in personality, taking a more casual tone as he sits there upon the paved lot in a dull green long sleeve and faded black pants, both torn and tattered from years of wear and training.
"I've come to understand a lot about this business. I can hardly watch a match anymore because it's all just so... obvious, so predictable, routine.. You have your holds, your strikes, submissions, transitions, traps, weapons, psychology.. and yet, so very often, men fall into such a distinct niche that they truly never step outside of the familiar inside of the ring. They pigeonhole themselves, creating this specific image or idea of who they are and following through upon projecting it so fiercely that they become this.. parody.. of who they truly are. They allow the fans to latch onto this and they feed it because they don't dare lose their favor. Why would they?"
"You see, there's something I learned a long time ago that they taught me in school. It's called Maslow's Hierarchy of needs. It deals with our levels of psychological well-being. As we fulfill each layer of the hierarchy, we are free to concern ourselves with the next, with people falling all across the spectrum in terms of their well-being. It all starts with our physiological well-being. Eating, sleeping, shiting, fucking, that sort of stuff. The basics. For a lot of men here, this takes care of that. You have to have a job, some sort of income or else you're shitting on homeless people and fucking hookers in a dark alleyway and, well, being a politician isn't for everyone. These guys are like your newcomers, essentially. Rookies still wet behind the ear seeing if they can hack it."
"Now, once that's taken care of, our next level is safety. This is where a lot of guys in this business fall into. Now that they've got money to fill their stomachs and hooker's stomachs to fill, they want to keep it. So they come out here and give these fans whatever they want, dance to whatever tune they ask them because they can't afford to risk losing their good graces. If the fans don't want them around, the company will just find someone they do want. And you know the guys here, they just press on with the same shtick week after week, hoping it hasn't lost it's appeal. Kind of your guys that are established, you know who they are, but their name doesn't really carry much weight. You're typical midcarder."
"For those who have found that sort of staying power to not worry about this, we get into the phase of love and belonging. Men seek out not just to be liked by the fans, but to be loved and moreso than the next guy. They want to show that they belong in this industry, they start trying to prove their worth, show they're better than the other guys in here trying to vye for the crowd's attention. They don't just want to be a part of this, they want to be a mainstay. This is where men start to move up in the world, their matches start getting closer and closer to that cherished main event, maybe even get into a few of them."
"Then, and this is where my good friend Maddox comes in, we have that need for esteem. Men start to seek to acheive greater things, win tournaments, titles, accolades, start acheiving big things. They are the main eventers, the big names fighting to prove they're the best this generation has to offer. They're more than good, they're the best. The toughest, fastest, strongest and they're ready to prove it."
"And then... my friends... there's the peak.."
Vlad takes in a deep breath and lets it out slow and steady, pulling his legs in under him to sit Indian-style and get comfortable.
"Self-actualization. Men stand upon the top so long and so dominantly that they become legends in this business. These are your men that go into hall of fames or that everyone sees and knows someday will. The kind of person who can just waltz in and make an impact near-instantaneously thanks to reputation alone."
"When a man reaches this mark.. when he's created such an impact on this business that his name become hallowed, has held so many titles that he no longer cares for them, when his accomplishments are so grand and plentiful that no other can replicate them.. he begins to sit back and ask himself some questions. Who am I? What defines me? What kind of a legacy do I leave behind? What is my place in this business? What separates me from the rest?"
"I had a lot of time to do that.. Sitting there in a little chair once a week as they hooked an IV into my arm and pumped me full of that nauseous, toxic orange shit. It wasn't then that I became a legend, but it was only then that I had finally stopped long enough to reflect upon such things. Some were simple. I am the most violent and angry motherfucker around. I'm a mastermind in the ring.. my knowledge is so extensive that at any given moment, I'm considering 20 different ways to hurt my opponent and am simply deciding which would be most effective. I'm vicious and mean and sort of a bully if I'm being frank. My legacy was set in stone long ago.. Somewhere around 20-0 when people started to accept that what they were witnessing was more than simply a fluke of nature or a streak of luck. The streak became this monolith, this legend of it's own as men came from around the world to challenge me. Lithuania, Ireland, Scotland, England, Japan, the Netherlands, America, Canada, Mexico, Afghanistan, Australia, New Zealand. I fought the fastest, the toughest, the strongest, the biggest, the baddest, the most charismatic, hardcore, technical, experienced and decorated and, one by one, they all fell before me. If I wanted a title, I came out to the ring and I said so and whoever was so unlucky as to hold it in that moment knew they were a marked man because NOTHING would stop me from claiming it. The world wasn't just my oyster, it was my twat and I pounded it when, where and however hard I wanted."
"It was clear who I was and what separated me from the rest and even how I'd be remembered and what for... but one question haunted me. What is my place in all of this? I mean, my position atop the world seemed.. detrimental.. to everything. How could competition grow and thrive when it's being supressed? You can't grow flowers through concrete.. I believed myself a scourge upon the very industry that I love. And then I realized that there was indeed one place for the GodKing in this industry.. no longer could I be the one to supress the underlings, to deal crushing defeat to those still learning to lace their boots. No longer could I hunt at those upon the rise and cut their glory short. If Vladimir Strife was to have a place in this industry, it had to be giving it the one thing that only I could: Humility."
"See, there was another cycle I was witness to. When men became stars and then became champions, something happened time and time again. They loved it. They got a taste of that gold and it created a hunger that could not be satiated. They grew obsessed with their glory. They would start to think themselves unstoppable, see themselves as the greatest of all times.. the strongest of the strong, the toughest of the tough, the fastest of the fast.. and they would seek me out. They were certain they could do that which none other was able to do before - beat the GodKing, rise above him.. claim his throne. My glory was there's for the taking and they would have that glory by beating the legend who beat every man put before him. They stood before me.. and I humbled them. Those who could not be humbled, I destroyed, I maimed and shattered and ended. The greed which they sought to take my Kingdom with betrayed and consumed them. Those who remained did so with the scars and memories of the time they flew too close to the sun and were stricken back to Earth. Even the mere trio of men who have claimed victory over the Barbarian Lord, all first fell before me. Had I not grown complacent and underestimated them in our encounters, assumed that I needn't stress about men I'd already beaten before, I'd stand before you still as the Undefeated Behemoth. But understand, Maddox, that of all those men who stood before me... no matter how tough, how strong, how fast, how greedy.. were laid low into place at my feet."
"This is not a match you can hope to win, Maddox - it is a fight you will pray to survive. Your victories, your achievements, your titles are meaningless to me. None of them nor the thick taste for glory and justice that fuels your hunger can possibly prepare you for what lies in store. I am no competitor.. not yet another star in the system for these fans to rally for or against... I am an extinction event. I am an apocalypse of the ego, a purger of pride.. The Avatar of Avarice. I have come to humble you and all whose greed and ego lead them to suspect superiority. I will filter the herd at the top of your foodchain and it is those who stand with me in my quest to do so who will reap the benefits. We will bring extreme back to the XWA and we will keep in check it's elite, who have feasted upon it's glory unchecked and unchallenged and without end. Already, we possess more power than any man can withstand and as our numbers grow, our reach will grow so that none can escape it. Band with me, my brothers, and you need never again feel second fiddle to the gluttonous, rabid dogs and their petty tug of war for gold and leather. No longer will you endure their oppression, stand to be cast aside as they vye for attention and fame. No longer will we allow men to be fed based upon their hunger through greed, but rather for their hunger through anger."
The Barbarian Lord grows silent as he removes another Winston from the pack and lights it, the butt held firm in his mouth.
"This is my place in the world of professional wrestling.. as God. None shall stand before me, none shall defy me... and those who dare shall feel my wrath. The new age is here - an age in which those at the top no longer reign freely. You now answer to a greater force than yourselves and no one among you is so powerful or so prolific as to be exempt or untouchable. My law is, however, much simpler than that of any deity you may have previously answered to.. cast aside your greed..."
Strife takes another long drag off of the cancer stick before leaning in closer to the camera, seeming to almost peer through it's lense and out the other end at the audience.
"And through anger... hunger for God."
The hateful piercing gaze of the GodKing lingers a moment as a grin creeps across his face, seeming to grow with every passing moment until the feed cuts to black and we prepare to see Vladimir's nemesis go one on one with the first man to join his cause.
Subject: PROMO | Vladimir Strife | "The Avatar of Avarice" 
