Rab #2 (English version)
Jun 14, 2016 17:19:53 GMT -5
Post by David on Jun 14, 2016 17:19:53 GMT -5
The scene opens outside the Lion’s Den training center. Stood leaning against a wall is Rab McKinley, who is wearing a pair of black shorts and a blue t-shirt.
Rab moves away from the wall, taking a step towards the camera, and begins to speak.
‘Alright there! It’s me again: your friendly neighbourhood Scot, Rab McKinley. I’m back for more, following on from two weeks ago, when I was successful in my first ever match, and this time my opponent is a bloke by the name of Mylo Danvers.’
Rab rubs his chin.
‘After my debut, when I was forced to fight someone that I’m friendly with - namely, Maritza Diaz - I’m a lot happier about being put in a match against Mylo Danvers. I have of course seen Mylo around the training centre, although he tends to keep to himself; I don’t have a problem with that, however - some people just prefer their own company. Because of that though, Mylo has gotten the nickname the “Lone Wolf” - and I have a strong dislike for wolves. Admittedly it might be an irrational dislike, but even so, unlike when I was in the ring with Maritza, I won’t be reluctant at all to give Mylo a battering.’
Rab crosses his arms.
‘Mylo doesn’t care about anyone in Lion’s Den other than himself, which I suppose does at least mean that, whatever I do to him in our match, he won’t take it personally. By that, I don’t mean that I’m going to cut corners, and use underhanded tactics - if I am to win, I want to do so by staying within the rules.’
Rab shakes his head.
‘No, what I mean is that because Mylo doesn’t care about me, there’s no need for me to care about him, and so I’m not going to apologise in advance - like I did before my previous match - for doing my utmost to win.’
There is a brief pause, before Rab continues.
‘From what I know about Mylo, I get the impression that he won’t stop fighting until I put him down for the count of three - which is the way it should be, and so that’s fine with me.’
Rab gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
‘Referring to myself as a wrestler still doesn’t quite feel right, as I’m so rough around the edges, but I wouldn’t argue if anyone was to refer to me as a fighter - an uncouth, or unpolished one, perhaps, but a fighter nonetheless. And Mylo is going to find out first-hand just how much fight I have in me; I won’t be going anywhere until the bell rings for a second time, to signal the end the match - I’ll stay until the job is done.’
Keeping his arms crossed, Rab leans forward.
‘In other words, I won’t stop fighting until I’ve got the match won.’
He then stands up straight again.
‘Or possibly until I can’t fight any more, should it come to that. I’m aiming for the other scenario though - the one that has me getting my hand raised in victory.’
Rab gazes up at the sky for a moment; he then looks back to the camera.
‘Like me, Mylo is a novice, so this ought to be a fairly even match. I believe he has been in half a dozen or so matches so far, so he does have a bit more in-ring experience than I do - although I’m not sure how many of those matches he actually won. As for me, for what it’s worth, my win-loss record is currently perfect, and I intend to keep it that way on Thursday.’
Rab unfolds his arms.
‘Mylo, I don’t know enough about you, or what you’ve been through in your life, to be able to properly judge the kind of person that you are. I would hazard a guess, though, that until I turned up at the training centre, you had never encountered anyone quite like me before - and I don’t just mean that you hadn’t run into any other Scots before.’
Rab winks.
‘Well, Mylo, this particular Scot is about to run head-on into you. And I’ve been told that I hit like a truck, so prepare yourself, because on Thursday evening, my truck is going to run right over your motorcycle.’
He then smirks.
‘Or at least, that’s the plan; if raw power doesn’t work, I guess I’ll just have to find another way to get the better of you - all part of my development as a wrestler.’
Rab nods.
‘I’ll see you in the ring.’
Rab stares confidently at the camera for a few seconds before walking off, and as he does so, the scene fades to black.
Click here for the original version.
Rab moves away from the wall, taking a step towards the camera, and begins to speak.
‘Alright there! It’s me again: your friendly neighbourhood Scot, Rab McKinley. I’m back for more, following on from two weeks ago, when I was successful in my first ever match, and this time my opponent is a bloke by the name of Mylo Danvers.’
Rab rubs his chin.
‘After my debut, when I was forced to fight someone that I’m friendly with - namely, Maritza Diaz - I’m a lot happier about being put in a match against Mylo Danvers. I have of course seen Mylo around the training centre, although he tends to keep to himself; I don’t have a problem with that, however - some people just prefer their own company. Because of that though, Mylo has gotten the nickname the “Lone Wolf” - and I have a strong dislike for wolves. Admittedly it might be an irrational dislike, but even so, unlike when I was in the ring with Maritza, I won’t be reluctant at all to give Mylo a battering.’
Rab crosses his arms.
‘Mylo doesn’t care about anyone in Lion’s Den other than himself, which I suppose does at least mean that, whatever I do to him in our match, he won’t take it personally. By that, I don’t mean that I’m going to cut corners, and use underhanded tactics - if I am to win, I want to do so by staying within the rules.’
Rab shakes his head.
‘No, what I mean is that because Mylo doesn’t care about me, there’s no need for me to care about him, and so I’m not going to apologise in advance - like I did before my previous match - for doing my utmost to win.’
There is a brief pause, before Rab continues.
‘From what I know about Mylo, I get the impression that he won’t stop fighting until I put him down for the count of three - which is the way it should be, and so that’s fine with me.’
Rab gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
‘Referring to myself as a wrestler still doesn’t quite feel right, as I’m so rough around the edges, but I wouldn’t argue if anyone was to refer to me as a fighter - an uncouth, or unpolished one, perhaps, but a fighter nonetheless. And Mylo is going to find out first-hand just how much fight I have in me; I won’t be going anywhere until the bell rings for a second time, to signal the end the match - I’ll stay until the job is done.’
Keeping his arms crossed, Rab leans forward.
‘In other words, I won’t stop fighting until I’ve got the match won.’
He then stands up straight again.
‘Or possibly until I can’t fight any more, should it come to that. I’m aiming for the other scenario though - the one that has me getting my hand raised in victory.’
Rab gazes up at the sky for a moment; he then looks back to the camera.
‘Like me, Mylo is a novice, so this ought to be a fairly even match. I believe he has been in half a dozen or so matches so far, so he does have a bit more in-ring experience than I do - although I’m not sure how many of those matches he actually won. As for me, for what it’s worth, my win-loss record is currently perfect, and I intend to keep it that way on Thursday.’
Rab unfolds his arms.
‘Mylo, I don’t know enough about you, or what you’ve been through in your life, to be able to properly judge the kind of person that you are. I would hazard a guess, though, that until I turned up at the training centre, you had never encountered anyone quite like me before - and I don’t just mean that you hadn’t run into any other Scots before.’
Rab winks.
‘Well, Mylo, this particular Scot is about to run head-on into you. And I’ve been told that I hit like a truck, so prepare yourself, because on Thursday evening, my truck is going to run right over your motorcycle.’
He then smirks.
‘Or at least, that’s the plan; if raw power doesn’t work, I guess I’ll just have to find another way to get the better of you - all part of my development as a wrestler.’
Rab nods.
‘I’ll see you in the ring.’
Rab stares confidently at the camera for a few seconds before walking off, and as he does so, the scene fades to black.
Click here for the original version.
