Pacing back and forth, we see our contender for the APEX Championship, Butcher. He laughs to himself, he goes to light a cigarette perched in his mouth, but stops himself. He points the lighter at the camera and wags it slightly.
BUTCHER: You know, I'm a very temperamental person, I let things get to me a lot. Losing to that gloss wearin' lady-boy kind of messed with me brain a lil'. Felt a lil nauseous, a lil angry, then I became hysterical.
EMOTIONS, something else am I right? But the thing that gets to me, the thing that drives me a lil' bonkers isn't the bloody queen wantin' what's gonna be mine once I beat Nem for that title. It's the pure dove, Katie Kensington--might I note a last name of privilege. See, it wasn't that she spilled some shit on me, no, no that wasn't it at all. See it was that she thought an apology could make it disappear.
Butcher glides his hand through the air.
BUTCHER: WOOSH. Everything is forgiven, no harm, no foul. But the poor sod doesn't understand that, all of the apologies in the bloody WORLD...won't stop me from kick your arse. In that pretty, oblivious, mind of yours you can't understand the thing I did to you. Maybe I'm just a
BULLY, maybe I'm a just a wee too rough, but the fact of the matter dear is that you need a reality check. Because in your world of
POPPIES and
RAINBOWS, there's bound to be weeds...and there's bound to be a rain cloud. Life ain't fair, life ain't never gonna be fair, I learned that a long time ago.
Butcher takes the cigarette out of his mouth, staring into the camera.
BUTCHER: I don't care about who your partner is; A wanker with a glass jaw more than likely. I don't care who my partner is, as along as he doesn't sod everything up and doesn't step on my toes we're fine. This match is a reality check for
YOU. This match is to help you understand that if you cross someone like me when you're walkin' down the street you better keep your eyes down. Because lass, I think you don't have a good grasp of what consequences are.
Butcher shakes his head, his rugged features, and his harden glare focused into the frame.
BUTCHER: This ain't something your man can save you from. And I'd advise him not to hold your bloody hand in this. A fight's a fight, and if he wants to get his pretty lil' teeth kicked in, so be it. I don't really discriminate when it comes to who I beat up and on what terms. Every arse kicking is for free, it don't concern me one bit. But I want to drill a message into your head boy, a clear one: Don't get cute with me. Because I've faced beastly gents in back alleys that'll make you soil your trousers. So let's come to an understanding that you are
BULLOCKS compared
to me. I've got an opportunity in my possession, and I'll be damned if I embarrass myself by losing to subpar competition. Now...
Butcher paces in a circle, finally lighting that bloody cigarette finally.
BUTCHER: July 8th, Gibsonville, North Carolina; If you lot aren't the daft whelks I've painted you as, you'll give up. Because Johnboy, if she hasn't told you already, I'm a wee bit ROUGH around the edges. You could ask the lot who've had the pleasure of facin' me. I'll be sure you break you both in so you'll know your place around here. Call it uh...
Butcher shrugs and blows a cloud of thick smoke through his lips with a crooked smirk.
BUTCHER: My civil duty....cheers.
Butcher stomps his cigarette out and then walks away from the camera. The camera keeps still, and then the scene begins to fade to black.
END.
