Post by seannnnn on Jan 17, 2024 13:00:47 GMT -6
Character:
Alignment:
Tweener
Gimmick:
Long story short. Bron is a mixture of his father/uncle in terms of pure athleticism. Freaks of nature, some would say. He's purely a badass, and knows it. He's not afraid of any person before him, and isn't afraid of a challenge whatsoever. He's often been touted as a future star.
Preferred Finisher:
Main -- Spear
Secondary/Submission -- Steiner Recliner
Secondary/Submission -- Steiner Recliner
Promo:
Our camera cuts backstage. Almost immediately we are met with the imagery of a second-generation talent. The crowd is split on their arrival of one, Bron Breakker.
BRON BREAKKER
What the hell are you doing here? Huh? You just going to sit here and look at me? You don't have anything to do say? You come into my locker room knowing that I've got to prepare for the biggest match of my entire career. That match is the Royal Rumble. Heard of it? I'm sure you have. I was trying to prepare myself. 29 other men, geared up for the biggest ass whooping of their lifetime, and some pocket pinchin' nerd wants to come into my locker room and blow my focus. But you don't get it do you? You've never set FOOT inside this ring. You don't understand what it takes to DO this. But you just COULDN'T help yourself. How could you not get a word with me. Second generation genetic freak. DNA of that dog. I got that FIGHT in me.
The camera crew doesn't say a word, but they watch onward as Bron paces.
BRON BREAKKER
It's that same exact fight that's going to send 29 other men over that top rope. It's that fight that's going to bust each and every one of those kids in the mouth. I make examples out of people. 'Cause I am that dog. I look around at each and every person who wants to set foot inside that Rumble match, and I'm thrilled. I'm actually excited. Because I'm going to get paid good money to make an example out of these people who think they're ready for that bittersweet taste of success. Those little fifthteen minutes of fame people seek out. Those are the people I get the most joy slapping the taste ouf of their mouth. 'Cause it's each and everyone of 'em. The twenty-nine other men. The same people lookin' you people in the face, screamin' how they'll be the last man standin'. They're pretendin'. Cause they're not READY. They're not PREPARED. An experience is on the rise. An ass-whoppin' express. All-aboard. Choo-Choo!