- Listen to this piece of music to get the full gist and atmosphere of this promo*
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MruNwk4dTw
The Black Reaper sits upon his dark, trophy chair as he surveys his opponents on numerous monitors. He smirks to himself and switches them off. He gazes out the window as the cars and buses travel across the motorway in Glasgow. His journey from Venice Beach, California is all coming here. He's making his LPW debut in the Royal Beanstalk match. A match where he could potentially enter the DeathCube for a shot at the LPW World Heavyweight Championship. He ponders the thoughts that come across his mind. A mental rolodex shifts through his brain as memories of his journey to LPW appears in front of him.
"So..."
"So?"
"What's happening here?"
"You, boy, are going to be learning in the ways of the Dark Side"
"Who are you, Darth Sidious?"
"Think you're funny do ya? Well wipe that fucking grin off your face because you're going to be undergoing very rigorous training to prepare for your wrestling career."
"And the Dark Side is going to help because...?"
"You are going to know things that your opponents will know absolutely nothing of.
"Fine."
The Reaper shakes his head off those early days and focuses his attention on the Kelvin Hall. He cracks his neck and knuckles and leaves his lair of web and deceit.
He walks silently but quickly, with nothing but a solemn, hard look on his face, as he is concentrating on something that enters his mind frequently. He doesn't want to think about it right now though. Not now. Not when he has the chance of a lifetime.
The Reaper enters the Hall and climbs the long, winding stairs up to the murky rafters of the Kelvin Hall. His long, black trench coat sweeps across as a cold wind begins to fall over the Hall. He chuckles to himself as he sweeps quietly into the shadows and looks upon the wrestlers who are training hard for the big night. The biggest chance, to prove themselves in Glasgow, to gain the chance to become LPW Heavyweight Champion, or Transatlantic Champion or Hardcore Champion. The Black Reaper adjusts himself into a comfortable position. He'll need to be for the next several hours as he is going to learn about his opponents. To bestow upon himself the knowledge and wisdom needed for him to become a shining light for LPW whether the fans liked it or not. Who gives a shit when you've got the spotlight on you now? He needs to gain momentum though, and once his job here is done, he must then go back to his hideout and begin training physically and mentally.
The Black Reaper uses this time to look back on the meeting that got him this deal.
"So Red, we have a deal?"
"Oh yesssss! You shall be interesting to watch here in Insanity!"
"The Beanstalk shall be climbed by me, and I will enter the DeathCube and become the LPW Heavyweight Champion.
"You might want to think about the other guys in that match *cackles evily*"
"Maybe so, but they don't know what awaits them in that match."
"Beware, beware Reaper! Beware!"
"Hmph."
The Reaper exits the room, but not before exchanging a cold staredown between him and Krimson. They know each other in the past, but he's not the man the Reaper once knew.
The Black Reaper begins to put his mind back on the job at hand, in this case being studying his opponents. His trench coat begins to flutter about as a door is opened, and the Reaper is interrupted during his most important duty. Apparently, it's a stage worker, just doing a light test to make sure that the strobe lights are in perfect working order. Still, he needs to be taught a lesson not to interrupt his training again.
The door creaks open, which startles the stage hand.
"Who is that".
No one responds.
"Huh. Must have been my mind playing tricks on me again. God damn Little Red doesn't pay me enough money for this job."
The door slams shut. The stage hand turns around right into the cold, heartless stare of the Black Reaper.
"Who... who are you?"
"The Black Reaper. And you shouldn't be around here"
"I'm sorry, I was... just doing some checks on the lightin..."
"Get up!"
"OK!"
The terrified stage hand gets up quickly.
"Do you want to know why I am going to do this to you"
"N.. no?"
"Come here."
"Wait!"
The Reaper drags the stage worker by the collar, as he attempts in vain to wriggle out of his predicament. The Reaper pulls him over to a balcony on the rafters.
"You shouldn't be interrupting this journey of mine into the inner realms of my past."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"You will be sorry."
The Reaper throws him over the rafters. The stage hand shuts his eyes, fearing the immense realisation of the fact that the ground could rush right underneath him and leave him in a heap of guts and broken bones. But the ground doesn't come. In fact he's supposedly floating. Has he died already? Was the fall quicker than he expected? A sudden shake sends him back to reality. He's hanging by the collar over the balcony.
"You tell your friends and your co-workers that if any of you ever come in while I'm pondering my past, present and future you are going to see that ground very, very quickly."
"OK, OK! Please don't drop me! I have a wife and children!"
The Reaper teases him by letting go of his collar and hastily grabbing him before he goes too far.
"Hm hm. Go. But don't even think of doing that again".
"I won't sir. First my friend gets Jungle Kicked and now this."
"I HEARD THAT!"
"Sorry, sorry!"
The Reaper leaves shortly after, knowing that his work for today is done. Tomorrow he shall continue his preparation and continue his skills for the long, ardous battle that awaits in a few days.