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Confronting Hypocrisy; A Rufus Harlowe Promotion
Topic Started: Jul 14 2010, 08:14 AM (39 Views)
That Darn Seph
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The High Elevation Sensation!
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Rufus Harlowe! The number one contender to the Fighting Spirit Championship, a man who won the honor by not even having to compete! All thanks to Pyotr Sadovsky and Oridici fighting to the point of eliminating each other. Rufus Harlowe wouldn't complain, he likes where he is and thinks it's very well deserved! Rufus stands before the camera, in front of the large green FIW Logo adorned on the black curtain. His clothes are permanently pressed, as they should be when you wear a very fine suit. Rufus' suit is of dark gray material, very fine pinstripes and his undershirt is dark maroon, his tie a darker shade. Rufus' hair is pulled back into a fine kempt pony tail. The seasoned Harlowe is silent for a moment, and then begins to speak.

Rufus: "Listen to me Rick Nuller. Listen to my closely. Follow every word I say, I want your full undivided attention. Finally, I have you all to myself...and I want you to know something."

Rufus composes himself, patting his hand against his chest and brushes his tie down. He tilts his neck, adjusting himself into a comfortable stance. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and exhales. His eyes open. Rufus lifts his fist up, he begins to sway his fist back and forth tightly clenching his fist.

Rufus: "Rick Nuller. I'm going to hit you so FUCKING hard! That whoever extracts my fist from your face will become the King Of FUCKING England. Your ass is MINE! Your reign of hypocrisy is over, and I've come to claim your throne and your crown known as the Fighting Spirit Championship!"

Rufus chuckles, lowering his fist.

Rufus: "What a road it has been, hasn't it Rick? I've exposed you for everything you are. A bad influence? Yes, yes you are. You can deny it and say you aren't. But how can you deny something that's as evident as you are wide? Do I need to prove it to you more? Fine, I understand it's hard for you to wrap your head around this...maybe I should explain it in a way that you understand! Oh, how delightful it will be."

Rufus gives a big delighted smirk.

Rufus: "You Rick Nuller, are a terrible chef. You like that? Food? You should grasp this concept rather well then! But fuck you. I ain't doing no stupid compare and contrast of your skills as a mentor to a chef! What do you think I am? I don't do stupid shit like that. I'll just explain it plainly, and maybe...just maybe you'll admit you're a failure."

Rufus clears his throat.

Rufus: "Anyway. You took on the task as Terry Cane's mentor, and you've trained him since...what was it. Ah yes! Terry Cane accepted your invitation on April twenty sixth! April twenty sixth! Boy, does time sure fly, doesn't it? Three months! Three months under your tutelage and Terry Cane has grown by...hm...Nothing really. He has done nothing to merit, and what's worse? He took time away from being mentored by you...and went to some other guy! Some guy that told him that Max Rowley was some kind of vicious animal. Maybe Terry just accepts offers to be trained by idiots."

Rufus chuckles.

Rufus: "And me? Well, let's see. I trained Ramsi Greene, and would ya look at that? FIW likes him so much they gave him his own column! Neo Carner? Where is he located on the card...Oh that's right! He's fighting my sworn Brother Krychek! And for what honor? Ah yes...The Undisputed International Championship. Now, I know Neo will find some way to claim he'll win...but let's be honest. His win over Krychek in the past was a fluke, and the superior mind shall succeed. But hey! Neo got there with his raw talent, talent I nurtured! I trained him to become what he is today. Now...Perhaps I am being a tad unfair."

Rufus says, nodding his head.

Rufus: "When I trained Neo, it wasn't under the duress of a FIW schedule. But, I wouldn't say that's much of an excuse for Terry Cane. In three months, you've taught him NOTHING. You? You abide by the rules, you're well mannered. Terry? He's disrespectful, rude and doesn't abide by any code but chaos! All that's rubbed off on him is your lack of discipline! I mean look at you! You claim to be getting back in shape...but when was the last time you dropped a pound? I recall a time when Max Anderson had to change your billing on a weekly basis...but that was how long ago?"

Rufus claps his hands together, beginning to rub them up and down.

Rufus: "Not that it matters at all. You hide behind your fallacies. You have no clear explanation for any of your mistakes. None! You hear me!? You can claim anythin' you want. But it doesn't stop the facts. Terry Cane? A failure. Your reign as champion? HAH! Laughable! Who have you faced that can be seen as a worthy challenger that doesn't fall to the handicap that you out weigh them by two hundred pounds? You've used your weight to wrongfully push around lighter competition for FAR too long. Me? I'm here to right the wrong. I will be put the 'FIGHTING SPIRIT' back in the title of that championship that it lost while in your greasy hands. You? You don't have Fighting Spirit. You don't DESERVE that title. You won't beat me Rick. You can't beat me Rick. And you will NEVER beat me Rick."

Rufus stares a burning hole into the soul of Rick Nuller, who I am sure is watching this right now. Fuck you round boy. It's okay, I can say that. Nobody reads the in-between portions of dialog anyway. Rufus lightens up, brushing a hand through his wonderful mane of beard.

Rufus: "I wait with baited breath Mr. Nuller. I wait, I wait patiently! You? You should enjoy your last eleven days as champion. Take time with it. Take a good long hard look at it, it may be the last time! Wait...may? No...No. Every time you look at it, it will be just another fleeting moment you have with it. Enjoy these fleeting moments Rick. It'll be the last time you'll ever hold the belt, and when I rip it from your stubby sausage fingers...You'll never hold it again as long as It belongs to ME."

Rufus says, jousting his thumb to his face and gives a big maniacal grin. The scene fades.

END

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