NFG Season One - Metro City R2 - Hated R vs Buford

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Description: Coming in hot, Hated R and Big Buford go head to head at the Metro City's Drippin' Style. Like marmite and dog poop. But Hated R and Buford begin the start of a connection, a connection that is fused by the strict code of Juggavalues.

Why, as it turned out, Metro City had malls too!

Located on Beat Square in the centre of Metro City, Buford was at the Drippin' Style. This popular clothing store has a golden yellow and candy pink neon sign above its entrance. Rails of colourful clothes, giving a hint to what's stocked inside are displayed along its exterior perimeter and beside these are two tables, each containing collections of carefully folded t-shirts. Inside the store the walls and floor are painted black, with the store name displayed prominently in large lettering across both. Rails and shelves play host to the wide selection of clothing, footwear and accessories available, with all styles, sizes and budgets being catered for. A large changing room with a full length mirror is available for customers to try before they buy.

Buford was here, dressed in his new designer outfit.

Inspecting his husky form in the mirror, he was clad in a hard black leather coat, scrawled in white paint with the words 'Vengeance'. Underneath, he had a red T-shirt that was a size too small, showing the image of a Katana on one side, and katakana gibberish on the other. He wore a pair of black jeans that are fashionably shredded, and a pair of punk boots with belt and straps all over. His fedora was equally edgy of purple with a green band on it, and Buford made the stylistic choice to include white-face makeup with red lips painted on, with a dab of green on his hair on both his head and his neck. Buford holds his arms out in a T-Pose, his Suchimusodo tucked away in its sheeth, admiring himself. Soon, his urban opponent would be arriving, and naturally, Buford felt he would be ready to deal with such a rapping thug. "If we truly live in a society," Buford muses, nodding his head.

"Then society must be good, mmmm'yes."


The Hated R 'HATE THE WORLD' Tour Bus comes rolling up the street without a damn care in the world. There may be a whole entourage of vehicles in the front and back of it, not to mention a crowd of adoring fans, affectionately known as HATERS, following the motorcade as it makes its tremendous arrival onto the scene.

Standing on top of the slow moving tour bus, in front of a golden throne that's been socket drilled into the top of the moving vehicle (likely illegally), is none other than the Maestro of Microphones, the Second Place Stunner, the Notorious S-I-M-P, the Illustrious and Industrious, Undercompensating, Bona Fide MOST HUMBLEST...


Microphone in hand, Hated R's got his arms out to the side as he makes his most incredible arrival yet. Considering the Metro City location in which this arrival has become evident, Hated R has definitely decided to put that ISH on, ja' feel? Starting with the solid gold Air Force Twos that seem to have been smacked with a healthy dose of shimmering glitter to make sure they shine without fail. Black leather pants that somehow manage to also rock the baggy harem look with a pair of gold suspenders hanging down from them because coolios never rock suspenders with the straps up. His sleeveless white t-shirt has been drenched in gold glitter to make the megastar POP and SPARKLE no matter what angle he's been looked at from. As an almost signature piece to his look, thrown over the expensive t-shirt is a sleeveless, black leather hoodie to show off his wild style tattoo collection. Embroidered on the back in thematic glittering gold letters: DOPE AZ I'M IZ. Fresh to death haircut with the Tic-Tac-Toe part on the side and a pair of black square-framed, gold lensed Dopeche & Grabbanya sunglasses. Hanging around his neck are any number of icy gold chains with dangling charms ranging from an iced out microphone to a vinyl record to a movie bucket of popcorn to the biggest and most iced and most prominent: R.

"WHO READY TO ROCK STEADY?!" Hated R grins nice and big.


Buford gives a smug huff, as he hears that oafish bello.

"Hm! Certainly, by that vernacular and drawl, it seems that our Thu-guh has arrived." Buford puts a hard G on it, popping his collar, looking himself in the mirror one last time before turning back, ready to meet his opponent in the front. He strides slowly past the clothing racks and posed mannequins, chest puffed out, as he swaggering with the air of a true Samurai. "I am not surprised Toronto has pronounced an urban of such low character, but fortunately, as being the best that Edmonton has to offer, I'll make sure to show myself as more than enough for any rat from the ghet-"


Buford squeals in shock, his hand over his mouth as he stares directly at Hated R. There is a long, pregnant stare. He was -not- prepared for this. Buford practically babbles aloud his rationality. "Impossible, but oh, what a fool I was. When I had heard your hard-biting music, those harsh and angry street rhythms from Boys II Kid... I had thought you were a n- nevermind." Buford clears his throat, adjusting his composure. "I feel like a complete fool now putting on my warpaint, the ivory against your- enough!" Buford draws his blade, his face noticeably turning red around his pasty makeup. Leveling it towards his. "No matter, you are still nothing more than a common street thug! You might consider yourself Hated R, but you are nothing more than Emcee-17 to me!" The Ronin of Rationality sweeps his sword wildly in the air twice, before bringing the hilt to his mouth. Puffing upon it, he unleashes a thick cloud of sweet-melony scented cloudiness, his eyes practically -seething- out from behind his sheltering fog. "Prepare yourself, fool!" Pulling the hilt from his lips, he points it straight at Hated R, pressing a button on it's side.

Activating the vibration feature with noisy intimidation.

COMBATSYS: Buford has wandered into a fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Buford           0/-------/-------|

"Say huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut?!"

Hated R gives his microphone a twirl in his hand before he runs to the back of his tour bus, which has now finally come to a complete stop, and dives through the water slide attached to the back of it. A twirl or two around and Hated R comes rolling out and across the pavement to pop up into a B-Boy Stance that could definitely be a case of Cultural Appropriation if the right people were paying attention.

"Jeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah Booooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeee!"

Posing for a few seconds of thunderous applause. Hated R eventually runs around to meet up with Buford in front of the sickest store in Metro City. "Whoa! Drippin' Style! I love this spot! Mad fresh gear in here, bro! This place is TOO hype!" Hated R holds up a finger to Buford. "Gimmie one sec, homefry. You can't stop the photo op, ja' feel?" Hated R shrugs as he starts back pedaling towards the clothing store. "AYO RIZZLER!"

Some rando dressed in a pimpalicious suit inspired by The Riddler but with a mountain more 'rizz' (with the cane and bowler hat and everything) some strutting out of the tour bus. "Sup?"

"Pic Me!" The expensive phone is tossed to the Rizzler and caught with so much smoothness that he might as well have planned this from the beginning. No beat is missed as Hated R does various poses of various cultural backgrounds and album covers while Rizzler just snaps pic after pic after pic. Too smooth.

"Hella Dope!" Hated R swagger steps back to his side of the potential fight 'ring' and wipes his happiness away in favor of looking more like he should be playfully angry at the insinuations from his opponent. "Bro! The ninth circle you talkin' 'bout? I! AM NOT! A RAPPER!" Hated R looks and dresses and sounds like a rapper but there seems to be a very distinct difference in his own mind. "Nah, famski. I do what is called Hip-Pop. It's like a mash-up of both styles with a li'l Pepper Jack Swang on it, ja' feel?"

As Hated R clears up a few things, he's backed up by a bunch of random entourage members so that he can slap hands with them in the midst of all this. It just makes him look even cooler to have all kinds of people agreeing with him, right?

"YOOOOOOOO! SICK SWORD, BRO!" Hated R is just now noticing that Buford has brought out a blade in which to cut him with. "Yo, 'Zon Cornelius!"

A window on the tour bus opens up and a frosty tip haired broski sticks his head out. "Sup?"

"Start me a sword collection. I want all the sickest swords that poor people can't afford."

"Say Less. I got you." 'Zon Cornelius ducks back into the tour bus.

"Aight, B. I don't know who Emecee-17 is! But if he's wack and you just dissed me?!" Hated R pop-locks his knuckles (don't ask how, it just happens) and slides into what he may consider to be a fighting stance of some sort. It doesn't look very good but at least he looks ready.


Annnnd cue the thunderous applause from his entourage, fan swarm and maybe even the huge speakers built into the tour bus. Who knows at this point.

COMBATSYS: Hated R has joined the fight here.

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Hated R          0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0           Buford

Buford was beginning to sweat.

At first, Buford imagined that Hated R was merely a blathering idiot. And yet, the more he talked, the more intimidated Buford became. It seemed that compared to Buford, Hated R was much, much cooler. Not only was he dripping in the rizz, whatever that meant, Hated R had an entourage who was practically as cool as he was. As Hated R shouts, he actually flinches, and what's worse, all the applause comes from all over. Buford suddenly feels really, really small. Teeny tiny, instead of a big. He practically whispers, trying to raise his voice over the din. "Um, are you..."

"Are you going to attack me?"

Buford tries to regain his composure, and not cry. "I mean you don't have THAT many friends here! And Hip-Pop is just rap! It's all the same kind of gangster music! I have friend too you know! And a girlfriend! She's from Europe, and we do all kinds of chatting online. You wouldn't know her though." Buford seems to be overcoming the fear of the raw presence of Hated R. "And Emecee-17 is -you!- See, you are Hated R, and that sounds like Rated R, so instead of being Rated R, you are NC-17, or that is, MC-17! It's a very smart joke and a total, well, I guess using your language, a total diss, eh!" Buford raises his voice, practically yelling now. "It's VERY SMART and you should feel EMBARASSED! I- I spent days planning that out! And you can't just have your friends come out and- and say how dumb it is!"

Buford begins to tear up, his makeup running, as he grips his sword with both hands.

Hated R almost immediately gets out of his horrible fighting stance.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! B! Hol' up!" Hated R holds up his hands to show that this isn't some kind of distraction trick or ploy. He's truly looking as though he wants to help or something. This rant that's going on at him is making him realize a few things. Or at least he's catching some vibes. "First official, we can get to our fisticufflinks in a second. I got time. The After Party can't happen 'til After anyway so you know, we can take our time with this thang if you need to. 'Less you gotta' get to work or somethin'. Jus' sayin'."

Hated R listens pretty intently to the words coming out of Buford's mouth because he's been working on being a better listener. He's got a book on it in the bus and everything. Sure, he's still on the Table of Contents but at least he's got the book, right?

"Nah, famuloso, Hip-Pop is mad differential. Check, hol' up." Hated R grabs his phone again and starts texting. "I'm textin' my homegirl Spyndi Lauper. She's a badass DJ. She got some sick mixes of all my tracks. I'ma' hook you up so you can really feel my vibes. I'm tryin' leave here with another Hater, ja' feel?" The texting is finally finished and that phone gets tucked away once again.

"We mos' def be friends, B! You wanna' t-shirt?" Hated R's yelling back at the bus now. "Russell! Get my mans out here a t-shirt! The 'Love To Hate R' one!" Hated R whirls his vision back to Buford. "You're gonna' love this one, bro. It's like black and white but with some sick designs on the front. You're gonna' look so sickalicious in it, man. Trust, bruv."

Somewhere after the t-shirt gets thrown at Buford's feet, Hated R catches up with the wordplay from Buford. "Ayo... ayo?" Hated R's face kind of freezes up for a second as his intelligence finally puts all those words together. "AYOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THAT'S FREAKALICIOUSLY DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPE!" Hated R's throwing his hands up in celebration. "EMCEE-17 IS STRAIGHT FLAME ON, BISH!" Hated R is practically cackling with delight now that he actually understands the alleged diss. "Yo. B." Hated R points at Buford with a big ol' smile on his face. "I think you mighta' just titled my new mixtape, bruv. Yo, that is siiiiiiiick."

All around the Entourage and more are celebrating the display of creative genius that has just been dropped into their laps. Applause and cheers for Buford.

Hated R does another one of those 'you the man' points at his opponent, "After we fight? Let me get your info. You might have to come to the studio with me, aight? Emcee-17 is /wild/." And finally, Hated R looks like he's easing back into potential fighting stance. Even though it looks more like he's trying to make sure Buford is ready as well. His oblivious innocence continues, "Oh, yeah, what's your girl's name? I tour in Euro like all the time. Maybe she came to a show? Euro Tings always love my shows, man. We bring like twenty of 'em backstage every gig and we party like crazy. It's madness. You'd dig it..."

Oh, this could go on for a bit.

Hated R got the joke, finally.

The victory is hollow however. Makeup running in streaks across his white facepaint, Buford almost starts to legitimately cry. He hadn't been this horribly bullied since high school. Buford started to look sick, as he sways. The more Hated R talked, the more it felt like his soul was leaving his body. Almost like a... almost like a....

Almost like a vampire.

"Of course!" Buford blurts out, suddenly snapping out of his daze. "It is so obvious to me now." He brings his hilt to his neck, massaging himself back into composure. "As you might not know, I have a lot of experience with researching the likes of the supernatural online. In fact, I have even partaken in a number of role plays where the focus is the creatures of the night. And one of them is of course vampires! Or rather, I should say." He points a finger at Hated R

"An ENERGY Vampire, I should say!"

"May Carl Sagan Protect Me!" Buford says, making the international gesture of atheism over his heart. "But I will not allow my precious energy be sipped away by this Hateful R!" Buford gets his second wind, and then, readies himself. "Steel yourself, Hated R! For I am Buford MacClanky, of the MacClanky Clan! The Ronin Of Rationality, otherwise known as the Faithless Samurai! And I will be sure to draw first blood now, in order to stop such a horrible monster! Not because you sound like a, well, a thug! But because you are clearly trying to drain my soul and mind with your dark arts! KYAAAAAAA!" Buford squeals a battle cry, as he flings himself straight at Hated R. Waggling his sword high in the air, he climbs up on a display of fine acid-washed jeans. Kicking up a flurry of jeans, he gives a quick toke off his hilt. Washing out a wave of melon-scented mist from his jowls, he takes to the air, spinning his sword in a full-moon slash as he flings himself straight at Hated R. It was a dangerous maneuver. But he had to be dangerous.

Especially in the face of pure evil.

COMBATSYS: Hated R blocks Buford's Bury The Light.

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Hated R          0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0           Buford

Listen, Hated R has a lot on his mind. Or his mind has a lot of room. One of those things is true and both of them are not false. Either way, it takes him a little bit to get things. Which is why he surrounds himself with people who get things for him. It just makes his life so much easier. Being a mega huge hip-pop star is freaking exhausting.

When the vampiric accusations get tossed in his direction, Hated R looks behind himself just to make sure that nobody's behind him. As he turns to look back in Buford's direction, he pauses for just a moment to make sure he sees his reflection in the window of the tour bus because you can never be too careful with this kind of thing. Finally, his vision is brought back fully into the direction of his growing violent accuser and he responds with a bit of an accepting sigh.

"It's the glitter, isn't it?" Hated R kind of frowns as he looks back down at himself and the way he's all glittery and shimmering. "Yeah, def gotta' be the glitter."

Another look up and Hated R spots that Buford is on the move. "Whoa! Wait, we're startin'?!" Hated R watches as Buford takes to the skies, his expression looking quite impressed with the way that sword is swinging and that jean rack wobbles but it don't fall down. As Buford comes down at him with that full moon slashing motion, Hated R slides back and swings a microphone stand right into Buford's path. The collision of blade against stand is enough to have Hated R leaning in towards the microphone attached to the stand and give the air over it a bit of a caress. "Watch Me Now! HEY!"

A pair of his fingers are bleeding from the blade's arrival but Hated R is already sliding backwards to make room for himself. Room that is very much needed since it seems this fight has finally reached its fruition.

"You know somethin', B?" Hated R seems to materialize to one side of Buford.

"You gotta' be careful with that thang, dawg!" Hated R shows up on the other side of Buford now... or also?

"Yeah, bruv! Chillaxicate with the slicey dicey!"
"Or somebody's gonna' have to teach you some mannerisms!" Hated R's coming in at Buford from behind? Simultaneously? What?!

There's a rise in the music that's been playing sneakily for a bit now it seems as each one of those Hated Rs picks up speed in their running at Buford from almost all directions. So either he's in multiple places at one time or he can multiply himself. What?!

"Psst." Once again, a Hated R tries to get his attention from the front.


The Hated R Collective absolutely SWARMS in Buford's direction. The closer they get the easier it is to see the flickering of the hard light holographic constructs that make up four of the five Hated Rs. Regardless, though, the flurry of kicks and punches and elbows and headbutts and stomps and whatever else comes from all five of them is a dogpile of freestylish proportions. And all of them are aimed for Buford!

COMBATSYS: Buford blocks Hated R's Big Time Rush.

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Hated R          0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0           Buford

Buford was dumbfounded.

"I'm not some B! I'm not some Hateful B!" Buford turns to one side, as the entourage comes surging in from the other. Bringing his blade, he barely is able to defend against the assault from behind. Slashing at the charging shapes that look like Hated R, he is at best is able to tear up 3 or 4 of them, with the final one for sure slamming into him. Disorientated and confused, he was crying. It was bad enough her was being humiliated by a white rapper.

But did he have to play such obnoxious music.

"More like, uh, MAYBE!" He babbles out loud. Buford was absolutely on a back foot. He couldn't imagine having to have anybody as obnoxious to his senses like Hated R was. Buford cannot imagine what he could have possibly done to be forced to endure such a loud and in your face buffoon like this. Defensively, he brings his hilt to his lips, and starts vaping. The fog envelops around him, it's melon scented tendrils embracing him in it's nurturing hold. "And it's not the glitter, it's the- GAH! YOU IRRATIONAL FOOL!" Buford squeals from his fog, as he bursts out with a swift desperate pair of slashes. Whining loudly, he attempt to land two chops, before giving a full forced backhanded slap with the flat of his blade.

Unconsciously, all to the rhythm of the music that was blaring.

COMBATSYS: Buford successfully hits Hated R with Crushing Strike.

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Hated R          0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0           Buford

"Irrational?! Bro, I'm Canadian-Americano!"

The Hated R Collective has been dismantled leaving the original and live Hated R for the world to see. He can barely get his response out in time to deal with the obliteration headed in his direction from Buford. Hated R /tries/ to slide out of the way but catches a pair of slashes that cut right through his expensive clothes! Blood seeps almost immediately from the sharpness of the blades. The follow up of chops creates more blood due to the deeperness of the blading involved.

"Bro! I just /got/ this hoodie!" Hated R's whining is brought to an abrupt stop by the collision of Buford Bladed Backhand that sends Hated R into a corkscrew spin in which he gets some serious air before smacking into the street for some extra added pain and insultry.

Hated R groans as he pushes himself back up to his feet. He's off kilter but manages to catch the cordless microphone tossed in his direction. Almost as if a burst of adrenaline has shot through his body, Hated R spins and points at Buford. He brings the microphone up to his lips.

"Don't get it twisted, B!
Just cause I'm a singer;
Don't mean I won't rock your bells
Now you a Dead Ringer;

I'll leave you laid flat
JFK Motorcade;
Then holla at your Eurobabe;
And take her backstage;

But I'ma' spare you heartbreak
You don't need the drama;
Hold on, I'm gettin' text...
I'm late to meet ya' Mama!"

Hated R flashes a grin as he leaps up into the air, the hand around the microphone starting to glow as he drops back down towards the ground, slamming his chi infused fist and microphone into the ground. The resulting reverb is a shockwave of energy that's sent sailing in the direction of Buford.

COMBATSYS: Hated R successfully hits Buford with Mic Drop.

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Hated R          0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0           Buford

Buford couldn't handle it.

Even as his swipes come, any momentum comes to a stop as Hated R begins to sing. Hated R's thick and heavy lyrics surge into Buford's head like the creamiest honey mustard sauce, making his heart palpitate like his sixth Darkstompers Energy Drink. He hadn't felt this surging with shock, rage, and emotions ever since the Demon Queen outed herself not as a cute girl in a costume, but as an actual freak and monster on stream. Buford's eyes roll to the back of his head, as he squeals, shaking his hips in the beat. It's only when Hated R mercifully stops with a slam, that he is freed.

And the shockwave blasts hims out the front window of the shoppe.

Buford lays there, cut up by the broken glass, weeping openly. How could a loser like him ever look to catch up with poetry like -that-. His Haikus seemed to be nothing more but Dr. Suess but for Dumb People. More like. Holistic Medicine Suess. A complete zero. Buford blubbers there, ready to give up his dreams. How could Abigail look at Buford right now, when he clearly would be preferring Hated R? He continues to cry as two pairs of shoes walk up to him. He suddenly feels himself hoisted up. Makeup running, he opens his eyes. And they bug out, as he suddenly realizes who rescued him.

"Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J!? Of The Insane Clown Posse?!"

Shaggy brushes the glass off Buford, and slaps him in the shoulder. "Shit yeah son! I was just coming down to the Drippin' Style to get some hot new shit, when my friend couldn't happen to notice a Clown who was Down!" Buford wipes his eyes, as he sputters sadly. "I'm no clown, I'm just trying to make a statement about society." Violent J snorts. "Dude, clownface is making a statement about society. What got you down man?" Buford wipes his tears. "Hated R is so much cooler than me. I can't keep up. How can a fat white kid like me ever rap like that." Shaggy punches Buford in the gut. "Shit son, anybody can be a rapper. You just got to have heart!" Buford doubles over, groaning. Looking up, a ray of hope comes over him. "So I should rap back? And use his own strength against him?" Shaggy shrugs. "I don't know shit! You just get in there, you fucking clown!" Buford nods, as he turns back, feeling inspired from the two. "Wait, before you go." Violent J interjects. He slips in Buford's palm a small canister for Suchimusodo, hidden in a handshake. He gives him a wink. "Just a little clown magic, you get it?" Buford nods firmly, as he turns back. Stepping through the window, he leaves the Insane Clown Posse behind... as the duo goes through the front door.

They had to do their shopping after all.

Buford stands fast, sword before him as he stares down across at Hated R. "Enough! My friends have come, and taught me a secret! Buford puts in the canister into his hilt, and after activating it, begins to bring it to his lips. A thick cloud of strange, grape-scented and colored mist pours out, thick and sweet, as he releases it. "I am now the Rapping Ronin Of Rationality! The Samurai Of The Streets! And I bring you! HAIKU-HOP!" And he begins to rap back.

"Don't Call It A Come
Back,, I Have Been Here For Years,
FoRocking The Place For-"


"Buuuuuuuuuuuuh." Buford states, as he seems to fall into a daze. He tucks his sword back into the sheath, as he sways side to side. Pupils getting wide. A smile on his lips. He seems to be staring -right- at Hated R, focused dead on him. And possibly brain dead himself. Buford wasn't sure what was happening.

Could this be the Ultra Instinct Rumored To Be Amongst Canadians For Years?

COMBATSYS: Buford sheaths his blade and begins to focus inward...

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Hated R          0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0           Buford

Hated R is back on his feet by this point. He's given the mighty microphone a stylish twirl and it has gone back into whatever location it hides during these fights. He has enough gear on that might be switched off and in a pocket or maybe he's got some kind of pocket dimension he can keep his stuff in. It's a hard read but as long as Hated R keeps the microphone close, he'll be able to use it again.

"Hol' up, B! I'll be right there!"

Hated R is taking this moment to do a little shopping. Being at Drippin' Style is both a good and a bad thing. He grabs about half a dozen sleeveless hoodies and sneakers to match, piling them up on the counter and handing off one of his black cards to the worker. "Get somethin' for yourself too, bruv. Receipt in the bag, please!" And with that, Hated R is swagger skipping around the fallen clothes and broken glass so that he can get back to this fight that seems to be taking up the bulk of his attention. Or at least a nice chunk of it.

"Yo! Your amigos showed?! That's dope, bruv!" Hated R seems to be quite happy for his opponent in this moment. He even looks around for them. His timing is, as always, quite unpeccable as his walking through the broken window allows him to miss that Posse of Insane Clowns walking through the front door.

Dramatic Pause of Awkward Smiling Goes Here.

"Where they at?"

The accidental and potential insult is left to hang in the air while Hated R narrows his eyes in Buford's direction. "Yo, B. If you want me to ghostwrite for you, I can totally do that. Just call Shelly Belly and we can get you mad hooked up! You'll be rockin' the mic in no time! And way better than whatever you just did." Hated R looks towards his tour bus. "Shells?! Make sure my man B gets your number before I knock him out! He wants to be a rapper!"

"Kay!" Shelly Belly waves a hand out of one of the many bus windows.

Hated R brushes off his outfit a bit and tries to get all nice and squared up. He's not sure what Buford is smoking on but he's pretty sure it might be some kind of power up of some kind. The look in his opponent's eye is something different than it was a few moments ago. Hated R's definitely going to take this moment to catch his breath enough to be ready for whatever's headed in his direction next.

"Shall we continue to kick it?"

COMBATSYS: Hated R yoinks a refizzle of Dopeness.

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Hated R          0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0           Buford

"Kick... it?"

Buford nods knowingly, looking towards Shelly Belly. "Yes. I will talk to your. Friends. It is the utmost in rationality." He takes in another hit on the hilt, before exhaling the dank cloud from both nostrils. He begins to move.... slowly? No. Quickly. Slow quickly. He was both moving like he was in a fog, which he was, but also quick like a light in a fog. He was moving both fast and slow. Slast. Or Flow. Yes, FLow. He was flowing. Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J seems a bit embarrassed when Hated R notices them, kind of giving a half wave only after they make sure the cameras aren't on them.

Don't want to undermine their rich and dignified career being associated with Hated R, after all.

BUford flows like purple drank, like a thick and syrupy water. Practically swimming through the air, he stamps towards Hated R. Sword still sheathed in, he leaps into the air. Jutting both of his sturdy trunk-like limbs straight at Hated R, he flies through the air, unleashing the mother of all dropkicks right for the hip-pop artist's chest. His upper portion is absolutely dignified. All while he gives, with slurred, precise speech, his Haiku-Hop drop.

"I Am Samurai."
"Samurai, I Amurai."
"Green Eggs, Hamurai."

COMBATSYS: Buford successfully hits Hated R with Strong Kick.

[             \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Hated R          1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0           Buford

Leave it to Hated R to give his opponent ideas. He doesn't even understand that's what just happened. He's actually too focused on the fact that Buford just dropped some Haiku bars on him while soaring through the air like some kind of Badass Eagle. The combination of quick and slow confuses Hated R to the point that the only thing he can think of to do is try to block the incoming Buford with this arms.


The picture perfect dropkick obliterates Hated R's meager defenses, smashing those arms open and colliding with the Popstar's chest without missing a beat. His body seizes as it is launched backwards, sailing at a much higher rate of speed before slamming into the wide of his tour bus. His back smacks his own giant face before he hits the ground with a pained grunt.

"Uggggh." Hated R is much slower to get up than he normally would be. He's wobbly but smiling as he looks at Buford. "Dude! That was sick, bro!" Hated R feels his chest. "I think you broke a rib! Nice!" His happiness for Buford's skills is stupidly genuine that his next comment of, "Let me try one!" is about as telegraphable as humanly possible.

Hated R breaks into a bit of a run to get himself closer to Buford! He pushes off one leg and leaps into what may often be considered the shotgun variant of a dropkick only it seems he's going for a single leg shotgun dropkick that's aimed for Buford's face!

Oh, that darn dancer agility. Always modifying the moves that Hated R wants to try.

COMBATSYS: Buford interrupts Thrust Kick from Hated R with Revengeance EX.

[                  \\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Hated R          1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1           Buford

COMBATSYS: Buford blitzes into action and acts again!

[                  \\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
Hated R          1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1           Buford

As Buford plows in, he collapses into a heap.

Tipping his fedora instinctively, he rolls instantly on impact, giving another deep purple haze as he draws off the hilt, keeping the sword in the sheath. Rising up, his eyes are wide, as he stares back at Hated R. "Arigato Hated-San" Buford states, bowing his head. Just in time for Hated R to break into a run. As he goes for his own dropkick, Buford exhales a thick cloud from his nostrils. He is surrounded by the cottony goodness as he readies his blade, holding the hilt. The moment Hated R connects with his kick, he suddenly strikes.

And it's smooth.

BUford unleashes a single, smooth slash, almost like time slows down as he tears his blade across Hated R. The moment time starts up again, the fog had completely enveloped them both. Buford begins to dance around the mist, giving three slashes from three different angles around Hated R, left, right, and a dive overhead. For each slash, while he gives a deep blubbery beat box with his lips, he gives a piece of the Haiku-Hop.

"To Do, Or Do Not"
"There Is No Try Padawan"
"Wait Wrong Fight Sorry!"

COMBATSYS: Buford successfully hits Hated R with Cloudchaser.

[                       \\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Hated R          1/=======/=======|=======\-------\1           Buford

Time is a funny thing. Hated R plays with time a bit himself but doesn't actually know or understand it. It may have something to do with Innate Freakum Dance Chi or Stunning Stage Effects. He really has no idea. What he does have an idea of, though, is that Buford and that sword of smokeability are one 2 Fast and 2 Furious match up.

Hated R's single leg shotgun dropkick is interrupted with nothing but pure skill. That slash ruining his shirt even more and the spray of blood that comes along with it almost seems to spell out 'DAMN' in the air before it falls into droplets towards the ground. "Arigato?! But I don't own a caaaaaaaaaaaat!" Hated R whines during his fall from dropkick attempt grace and into the fog of doom. The trifecta of slashes are met with absolutely no defense whatsoever because moving around, while in the air and trapped in a Bufordy Mist is not something Hated R was prepared for.

When the fog clears, Hated R is on the ground and bleeding from a handful of different locations on his body. But he doesn't look dead. In fact, "Yooooooooo." Hated R rolls over in mid-groan of pain. "I freakin' love Galaxy Trek." Buford gets a thumbs up from Hated R's position on the ground.

It takes him a moment or two to push himself back up to his feet. The music coming from is tour bus starts to bump louder as the whole side of the bus unfolds into what can only be described as a full on stage. That's right, this fool rides around with a transforming tour bus so that he always has a place to perform. The music keeps him on his feet as he stumbles towards the stage to feel the power of the music. His hand slaps around the microphone on the stand there and he leans into it.

"I think we got time for one more song tonight! What y'all think!"

The crowd goes absolutely bananas.

The music switches up as a bunch of back up dancers come out of nowhere. Real? Holograms? Who knows at this point. All that's really known is that Hated R has spun himself into a dance routine that incorporates a healthy dose of sonic chi sparking with every movement. Every hip jerk, every kick stomp, every gyration... it all gathers up into a stunning purple mass of energy that glows around Hated R's body. His sneakers take him off the stage and hopefully into the personal space of Buford so that he can unleash a flurry of kicks and punches overfilled with that explosive chi as Hated R goes for broke for his adoring fans.

COMBATSYS: Buford dodges Hated R's All That EX.

[                       \\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Hated R          0/-------/----<<<|=======\-------\1           Buford

Buford hangs, as the final slash comes.

He recovers slowly, sweeping his sword dramatically as the back up dancers begin to appear. He is unflustered, his tempo smooth and calm, as he proceeds to give another hearty draw from his vaporizer. As he nods knowingly. As Hated R begins to build up his energy, BUford begins to stretch. He shakes his limber limbs. ANd then, once the Hip-Pop Star charges at him all a purple?

Buford begins to dance.

It's not unlike the dance he had done before at the Rumble. This time, though, he holds up his V fingers. Shaking them, he gives an arm thrust to the left, then to the right. He repeats it again, with a wiggle waggle with his arms. And he repeats it again, gripping his hands together to make a gun aim gesture. Side to side he dances, and while it all seems a bit odd considering that Hated R was in fact doing his ranbu right now, there was a certain fact. Every move he makes.Every bond he breaks. Every step he takes, he was dodging you. Squatting down against a punch, then jumping up over it, he finally reaches the end of the assault by turning to a camera, and going 'wweeeeee' while fanning his hands. And then, turning back over to Hated R.

He readies his blade.

He begins to chop, chop, chop, unleashing a slashing cutting frenzy in a blur. Cut cut cut cut cut, he cuts through the backup dancers first, scaring them away before he settles on HAted R. With the utmost focus granted by the purple scented mist, he does his quick flurry of slices, before finishing with a brutal backhanded overhead slice, bringing a whirlwind of mist with it. The mist is harmless, of course. Though when it gets over to Shaggy 2 Dope?

A single deep breath from him makes it disappear entirely.

COMBATSYS: Buford successfully hits Hated R with Tenderless Reaper.

[                                < >  ///////////////////           ]
Hated R          1/------</<<<<<<<|-------\-------\0           Buford

Hated R is out of juice. He's pretty much used up as much of his energy and chi trying to throw an All That performance only to have Buford kick things into a much higher gear and leave Hated R swinging at the air like a choreography rehearsal. Which, for the record, he's going to have to do a lot more rehearsing if he's ever going to land a hit on anyone in his fighting career. But that's a digression for another moment.

Right now is the moment for blood and pain as there's a sword that's treating him like a cutting board made of sushi right now. Hated R's attempts to try and side step or slide out of the way of the sword are the complete opposite of Buford's movements to dodge his chi-filled combo just a moment ago. Every dip, spin, gyration, twist and slide brings him INTO that path of Buford's Badass Blade. The slicing and dicing doesn't remove any limbs but the resulting blood puddle is enough to make it clear that some band-aids are going to be needed when this is all said and done.

And all said and done it is.

The Backhanded Chopliment is the final straw that sends Hated R face first into the ground. His face crunches. Blood splatters. It's a bit of a mess but there's no more movement from the Most Humblest. He's down. He's out.

K! O!

And the crowd, still filled with mostly Haters, cheer wildly for Buford's epic performance and decisive victory!

COMBATSYS: Hated R gonna' let that electric slide.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Buford           0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Hated R can no longer fight.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Buford           0/-------/-------|

And the mist fades.

Buford hangs in the air, tipping his fedora over his eyes as he stands over Hated R, the downed Pop-Hop Hip-Pipper. The fellow Canadian nods solemnly. As the crowd cries, he is deaf to their noise. He is deaf to his victory. He is deaf to Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J, who was actually shoplifting right now during the chaos. He only takes another hit of the dank purple haze, before he bends down to Hated R. Reaching down, he extends a hand. "We got to talk turkey, you gobbler." Burford states softly. "You need my number, because I sense... the HEART of something GREATER! You taught me something important. That black people weren't the only people who could rap or be a thug. And for that, I thank you." He quickly tips his fedora before extending his hand once more. "Now, lets work together. Beyond the NFG! It's time for my transformation!"

"It's time to become the Rapping Ronin Of Rationality!"

COMBATSYS: Buford wanders on to find the next challenge.

Log created on 14:10:44 09/21/2023 by Buford, and last modified on 19:53:30 09/27/2023.