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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 15:00 PMCopy HTML
The scene opens to Rorie Steele. She is sitting in the dark interior of a car. Presumed to be a limousine, since there’s so much room. She has a pair of black sunglasses over her eyes; her face turned into what most would consider ‘bitch face’. She is looking out of the left window, watching cars race by them. One of her legs is crossed over the other. The strappy black heels she wore moving up and down in a sort of rhythm. She wore a short black dress, the top pulled down just a tad to show the top bit of the purple bra she wore. Apparently this is a style. Who knew. She ran a hand through her straight, dark hair, shooting her head to the front of the limo. She pressed a button above her.
Rorie Steele: “Can we go any fucking faster, Nicolas? Everyone on the road is passing us.”
‘Nicolas’ the Driver: “Oh… uhh… Yes, Miss Steele. By the way, my name is Dave. I must have forgotten to mention that. My apologies.”
Oh he mentioned it. Three times, in fact. Did Rorie care? No.
Rorie Steele: “Whatever, Joe. Put your foot down harder on that fucking petal, alright?”
Rorie dropped her hand from the button and turned her attention to the cameraman in front of her. The young man that had been taping her promos from BCW. She was gracious enough to bring him along with her. A free ticket to any place she went, riding in limos, attending amazing parties, whatever she did, he could potentially get to do. She looked him over once, her face still curled into the angry expression she easily made on a regular basis.
Rorie Steele: “Are you actually doing fucking work? Or just playing on your phone?”
The kid fumbled with his phone, dropping it onto the floor of the limo. He scrambled to pick it up, looking towards Rorie apologetically.
Camera Dude: “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I needed to do really good stuff yet. You weren’t doing anything, so I just had the camera on you. I’m just dealing with some stuff with my girlfriend.”
Rorie raises a brow, removing her sunglasses. She tosses them beside her, keeping her eyes on him.
Rorie Steele: “You have a girlfriend, Steve?”
“Steve”: “Uh… It’s Nate. But that’s fine… call me whatever you want. Yeah… I have a girlfriend named-“
Rorie Steele: “You’re fired.”
Nate: “Wait… what?”
Rorie blinked at him a few times.
Rorie Steele: “Did I fucking stutter?”
The kid just stares blankly at her, clearly in shock.
Rorie Steele: “Get out of my fucking limo. Open the door, jump onto the fucking freeway... and get hit by multiple cars. Because that’s all you’re good for. Causing accidents.”
She stared at him still.
Nate: “But… but I need this job!”
Rorie Steele: “I don’t fucking care. Not my problem.”
Nate: “Please!”
Rorie Steele: “Do you still have a girlfriend?”
She asked it in a matter-of-fact way.
Nate: “What? Yes… I mean-“
Rorie Steele: “Still fired.”
Nate: “Wait!”
She said nothing, tilting her head to the side. She finally opened her mouth.
Rorie Steele: “Do you… still have… a girlfriend?”
She said it slowly, so he understood. His face fell.
Nate: “No…”
Rorie Steele: “Perfect. Break up with her tonight. I don’t care how you do it. Preferably in the harshest way possible. In fact… record it. I’d love to hear her reaction. And I’d love to hear the deadening of your voice when you break the news. You think of me only. You talk to me… and me only. You have no friends. You have no family. Just me. You do everything I say. You will not have any other person in your life besides me. You don’t think the job is worth all of that? Jump. Jump out of the limo. You don’t think all of the lavish parties and amazing things you get to see and do aren’t worth it? Leave. I’ll see to it that you NEVER get a job again. Ever. Got it? Great. Roll the fucking camera.”
She moved her foot to the lens of the camera, gently kicking it up so it was focused on her. The kid didn’t even know what to do. He just did as she said. She had him by the balls, so to speak.
-----------------
With the camera now focused on her, she turned her attention to the man she’d be facing for her first match in 4CW. Bryan Williams. That little prick she had to see over and over in her “friends” #MCM’s every fucking week. Throw up in my fucking mouth. The bitch face was back as she now addressed him through the camera.
Rorie Steele: “I’m sorry… Excuse me… Can you tell me what exactly you’ve heard about my life? Was it some kind of dirty little fairy tale about how I grew up? Maybe some Snow White bullshit? How about that I’m a girl of the night? You think I whore myself out on the street like a common hooker. That’s not me. Or maybe that I grew up in a filthy trailer park? Pregnant at 16 and wandering the streets. I’ve got no class, I’m white trash, a fucking harlot. I’m so fucking obscene, it makes people sick. You’ve got me all wrong, Bryan. Everyone’s got me all wrong. But you… You know nothing, Bryan Williams.”
Little Game of Thrones joke there, guys. Fuckin’ right.
Rorie Steele: “What people do have right… is that I love sex. That I’m like a Barbie doll; beautiful and perfect in every way. I’m a whore, but not in the way people seem to think. I’m an attention fiend. I do things to get people talking about me. Narcissism can be a bitch, though.”
She pulled out her phone, looking at herself through the slightly mirrored screen. She ran her fingers through her hair, smirking at herself.
Rorie Steele: “I’m a hater’s dream. I wear who I am like fucking skin. Rarely hidden. You want to find something to hate me for? I’ll fucking provide it for you. It’s easy. Take your fucking pick. I’ve heard people say I should be ashamed. Why? How could I be ashamed of this fucking perfection?”
She was still looking at herself on the phone. She dropped it in her lap, looking back to the camera.
Rorie Steele: “I owe you nothing. I don’t owe you respect. You don’t owe it to me either. I’ve never asked for it. Plus… it means fucking nothing to me anyways.”
She laughed. At him, really. Who needs the respect of someone like Bryan Williams?
Rorie Steele: “What I will do for you, though, is be the villain you can blame. You can blame your loss on me. Use me to explain why you suck so fucking bad. “She cheated”, “she broke the rules”, “she used me”, “she made me lose focus”. I don’t care, Bryan. Nobody cares. Your pathetic attempts to explain why you’re terrible are just a waste of everyone’s time. They all know why. You simply suck. That’s all. But I’ll let you blame me anyways.”
She winked at the camera.
Rorie Steele: “I will be the belle of this brawl. And every brawl that happens after this. I’m the beauty and you’re the beast. But in our fairytale story, the beast doesn’t get to change into the prince and marry his Belle. The beast dies, Belle tosses the shitty, dead, petal-less rose to the ground, and walks off with that fucking sexy Gaston. Because fuck the beast. He’s a little bitch. Just like you.”
A smirk danced across her face. She switched her legs, showing a bit up her dress as she did it. Just to prove her previous points even further.
Rorie Steele: “You know… I’ve heard it so many times… I don’t belong in this scene. I don’t belong in wrestling. But riddle me this, Bry-man… why the fuck are these people still holding their hands up and screaming MY name? Why do they want to see me week after week, hm? Why do they enjoy hearing my name? What is it about me that they keep coming back to? Even your girlfriend was excited I came back to wrestling… how does that make you feel? I can’t blame her, though… One? It’s fucking ME. I’m just that fucking amazing. Two… I’m not you. I’m nothing like you. I’m not doubting myself every second I get. I don’t doubt myself. Once you let that seep into your brain, you’re finished. And you, Bryan… have been fucking finished for a while, it seems. I can see it in those crystal blue eyes. Like fucking glass… I can see right through them. And what do I see? A fucking child inside of a man, crying… begging to be brought into salvation. But I’m not your salvation, Bryan. I’m the diva of the fucking damned. You are in the devil’s world. My world. And each time you think you’re climbing further out of this hole, there I’ll be, pulling your boots down, ripping your white knuckled hands from the dirt. Pulling you further down and stomping on the small amount of hope you had left.”
She dropped her head a small amount, her smirk still on her face as she turned her eyes up towards the camera. Her hands moved up to adjust her dress, which also made her assets jump as she pulled at the straps.
Rorie Steele: “You may be asking… why am I doing this? Why am I trying to ruin you? To be honest… it has nothing to do with you. You could be anyone else here. I wouldn’t care. It just makes it more fun because I know who you were. But I’m trying to prove a point. Trying to prove to everyone in this place why I belong here. Why I deserve this spot. And why I am their fucking superior. You’re worthless, Bryan. Just like most everyone else here.”
Her hand went up with the last words, a finger pointed up and twirling in a circle a few times.
Rorie Steele: “I’m sorry, sugar… but this rollercoaster you’re on is about to go up the biggest hill yet… but it’s not going to be like you hope. At the top… things aren’t good up there. What’s up there, you ask? Nothing. The end of the fucking track. Yours is the only car on that journey. You’re alone. You will fly off the end of the track, screaming for someone to save you. But nobody is there. Nobody is there to help you. You crash… You burn… You fucking die. And let’s just say… hypothetically… that you survive this crash. Maybe some Final Destination 3 bullshit happens… Maybe you see a glimpse of that future and you have a chance to change it. Things will look up for you… But what always happens before the credits roll, Bryan? Spoiler alert… You still fucking die horrifically at the end. Death always finds you. I am death. I will find you. And at the end of our match, you’ll be the one on your back. Letting your girlfriend and everyone else you love down. Because that’s what Bryan Williams does. Let’s people down. I’ll see you at Adrenaline, Bryan. Don’t… let me down.”
She smiled devilishly at the camera and waved a hand to it. The screen went black, but Rorie’s voice was still heard.
Rorie Steele: “Do your fucking job and turn the fucking camera off. Bitch. Stop fucking crying about your lost girlfriend, Nick. She’s probably a cunt anyways.” |
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