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Rank：Diamond Member
- Score：643
- Posts：643
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From：Canada
- Register：12/07/2008 01:08 AM
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Date Posted：07/24/2016 16:34 PMCopy HTML
“Here… kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty…”
A voice breaks through the silence accompanied by a black screen. The voice was filled with venom. It belonged to Rorie Steele, of course. There was a hint of malice in her voice that made her words terrifying, in a way. It looked as if a camera was panning down from darkness, finally ending on a metal table. In the center was a black kitten. Heels could be heard tapping against concrete as hips and the bottom half of a female torso came into view. A black high-waist skirt was worn with a white fitted shirt tucked in, unbuttoned to show some cleavage. Hands slowly came out, wrapping around the tiny, fragile body of the kitten. The camera panned up to Rorie’s face, a smirk across her lips, as she looked down at the kitten now held against her chest.
Rorie: “There we are…”
She ran her long, sharpened black nails gently along the spine, petting the small creature. It nestled itself against her body, enjoying the warmth and comfort.
Rorie: “Pretty little kitty. Nestled in and comfortable. Happy with it’s precious little life. It has no idea…”
She paused for a moment, keeping her eyes on the kitten.
Rorie: “No idea the horrors that the real world can show. It is much too young. It has yet to live on the streets. Yet to live a real life. It has, really, only just been plucked from its mother and siblings. Taken from the short time spent with them. Never to know or see them again. Sounds like the plotline to every sob story ever. Or every superhero story.”
She looks up at the camera, smirking. Her hand continued to glide along the fur of the animal.
Rorie: “Now don’t worry… This isn’t about to turn into a kitten stomping video. Fetish porn has limits for me. Though… I do hate cats.”
Rorie bites her lip gently.
Rorie: “This innocent, fragile, little thing. I could squeeze the life out of it without any effort. But… this isn’t a Devin Hawk promo.”
Her face turns a bit sour, teeth clenching slightly for a moment.
Rorie: “No, no. This kitten, fittingly, represents my opponent this Adrenaline. Kat Jones. Kitty Kat.”
She has a smirk once again, as if her feelings a second ago disappeared.
Rorie: “The loner… the loyal… the girl who stands out in a crowd. Congratulations, Kat. You’re everything all the other girls strive to be. Different. Funny, though… In your situation, it’s not a good thing.”
She pauses for a moment.
Rorie: “So much respect. So much unnecessary praise from you. I don’t need it, sugar. I don’t need your pretty words. I don’t need you cheering me on from behind the scenes. I’m in this for myself. I’m not looking for a friend. Nor would I ever… ask for it to be you.”
She smirked, nails still running along the kitten’s fur.
Rorie: “We’ve been buddy-buddy before on Twitter. We have mutual… acquaintances. That’s it. Our back and forth on Twitter wasn’t a calling card for friendship. It wasn’t a way for me to ask you to go shopping with me in Manhattan. I doubt you could afford my shopping taste anyway. No, Kat. That was simply a means to kill time. We happen to hate some of the same people and want to make fun of others. But that’s all that keeps up somewhat alike. There’s more differences between us that you could even come up with in that tiny brain of yours. Here’s one… I’m better than you.”
Rorie moved the kitten slightly on her arm. It had fallen asleep.
Rorie: “That’s right. I said it. And it’s the truth. You’re poor work in the ring is very clear. I’ve seen it here… and I’ve seen it in BCW. You couldn’t even beat that white witch. What makes you think you can beat me? You’re fucking pathetic. All I see is luck. The only times you’ve won have been against the pieces of shit that reside in this company. The female competitors here are beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. If you consider them as 8 year olds in a toddler daycare. I’ll break it down for you… It’s not fucking good. But lucky for you… you’re a step up. You’re like a pre-teen in a special needs class. Just a bit higher on the scale, dollface.”
Another smirk.
Rorie: “At the end of our match, you’ll be looking up at me as if I were a God. And compared to you, I’m fucking Zeus. But a woman version. Zeusy.”
She raised a brow, shrugging.
Rorie: “I may have lost in my last match. But once again, I was thrown into some bullshit tag team match. One of my partners fucked off for the better part of the whole thing, making one fucking appearance to try and steal the fucking spotlight. While the other got himself pinned like a fucking cow stuck in a meat grinder while still alive.”
Her hand suddenly shot down, slamming palm down on the metal table. The sound vibrated through the room. The kittens eyes shot open, clearly startled. The anger on Rorie’s face stayed for a few moments before softening.
Rorie: “Seriously… look that up. It’s pretty fucked up.”
She brought her hand back up, stroking the kitten again.
Rorie: “Once again… The moment I rely on someone else, I get fucked over. Take your fucking tag team matches and stick them up your ass. Not yours, Kat. This is something else completely. Anyways. Take back the things you’ve said. Do me a favour, sugar. Call me a bitch. Tell me you’re better. The whole ‘respect’ gimmick is overplayed and is an ugly colour on you.”
A pause.
Rorie: “While you lay in bed with your new, suddenly poor husband, think about the mistakes you’ve made. How you’ve underestimated me by saying you wouldn’t. You don’t think that’s actually a thing? Here’s a scenario for you. You say you won’t underestimate me. Me, as if I was a dumbass, goes soft on you, cuddling you and telling you it’s okay. I go easy on you in the ring because you’re nice. You use your words against me and come at me with every fiber of your being. I’m not fucking stupid, kitty Kat. Just fucking bring it. Give me everything you have. Just leave your respect on the fucking stage. You’ll never have my respect. I don’t want yours.”
She glares at the camera.
Rorie: “Speaking of your husband… The immaculate Drew Stevenson. Never done anything wrong in his life. Has NEVER hit on a woman while still dating a girlfriend. Never blackmailed a soul for sex. Never did you wrong. I’m all for polyamorous relationships… are you? I feel like no. But maybe you just stay blind. Like battered woman syndrome. He does… no wrong. Drew and I go WAY back. I’d hate to be the one to make light of some of his past… some very recent past. But really… this isn’t about him. This is about me and you. Just know… if he… or anyone else fuck with this match, I hold you personally responsible. And I will do everything in my power to put your ass down. During the match… or after.”
Rorie puts her hand down beside her, stopping herself from petting the kitten.
Rorie: “You’re like this kitten, Kat. Fragile and weak. Like this kitten, I could squeeze the very life out of you. I promise I won’t do that today… But when we meet? I can’t guarantee anything. You said something funny. Don’t take this personally…”
She had been smirking. But once again, the smirk fell and she was left with anger in her eyes.
Rorie: “Don’t take this personally? Sugar, I WANT you to take this personally. I don’t like you, Kitty Kat. I fucking hate you. In a very personal way. You’re a pushover that let’s people walk all over you, even if you say you don’t. And that bothers the fuck out of me. Your life… do what you want… But you’re giving professional wrestlers a bad fucking name. Your self-righteous bullshit is pathetic. You bleed desperation. It comes from the sweat from your pores. You speak it. It’s sad. Figure it out, cupcake. Be a fucking woman and stand the fuck up. You have some cunts on your back, take their asses out. Don’t just fucking talk about it. Step… the fuck… up. Prove yourself.”
She stares at the camera.
Rorie: “But to be honest… even if you DID pull all that off… You’d still never have my respect.”
She smirks once again, putting the kitten down on the table. It wakes up, roaming around for a few seconds.
Rorie: “Fend for your fucking self.”
Rorie turns away from the camera and walks away. The camera pans down to the kitten, now sitting on the table, looking around as if it is lost.
Scared.
Alone. |
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