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Pounding: Prelude to Puma Punishment [Tora Solgaard RP]
Topic Started: Nov 10 2015, 08:57 PM (66 Views)
Deleted User
[The screen is pitch black]

Thankful.

[Smack]

I should be so thankful.

[Thunk]

I *REALLY* should.

[The screen comes up, a gray haze, out of focus. We hear shuffling feet. And the camera focuses: the steam of cold breath wafting up. Wrists wrapped in white tape are dirty and bloody.]

Thankful for opportunity, thankful to be here. Thankful to be out there in front of those fans. And to that end, I am.

[Splat]

This is the job I signed up for, nobody took a loaded gun and said “come to the Pitt”. So why do I already feel like I’m on the verge of being in front of a firing squad, hmm?

[The camera shifts around between cracks in the wall from the other room, to see the hanging slabs of beef. It’s a meat locker, and Tora Solgaard is pummeling the hell out of some dead cows.]

I don’t usually take my aggression out this way, insult to injury to God’s creatures that have already met their mortal end. Plus it seems something right out of an old boxing movie. But, it just feels right.

[She stops and steadies a swinging slab of beef, turning to the camera. Black toboggan pulled down over her head, grey sweats, red scarf and white boots. Boots that are getting increasingly dirty shuffling around in the muck of the room. Positioned so, half her face is obscured by the beef; one piercing eye looking into the camera. The dimpled look of cheek and chin as she frowns.]

The problem is, they don’t know me. So when I put in so much time and effort in preparing for Sophie Harrington, the training, the sparring, the promo work focused on her? Only to show up and find that she is nowhere to be found, that did not sit well with me. So who do I get? Tammy Jay. Now, nothing against her… I’m sure she didn’t think at the start of that day she’d be in the ring with me. And it showed.

[Pow! Another right hand as she shuffles around and punches away]

People wanted to talk about how I looked after that match, the expression on my face? Stunned, shocked, bewildered? Maybe. Something more akin to anger, and unfulfilled yearning? Definitely. I don’t hate Tammy Jay, let’s get that out there. If I did, I would’ve done far more damage than dispatch her quickly for the victory. They’d still be picking pieces of her out of the mat to this day. I don’t even hate Sophie Harrington that much now. For whatever reason, you didn’t show up. There is nothing I can do about it; I don’t have a time machine or teleportation device to show up on your doorstep and drag you to the arena.

[Thunderous punch!]

But… Sebastian DeBlanc? You sir and the rest of your “Pitt Crew” have put an unsettled tickle in the pit of my stomach already, one show in. I really don’t want to tear the management a new asshole my first night in the door. I’ve got something brewing to get off my chest though. I might save most of it for the show, after I dispatch my opponent this week.

[Boom.Smack. Thud.]

That’s right… my opponent. Lo and behold I suppose the old adage is true, the squeaky wheel gets the grease around here. So allow me to squeak. Miraculously I go from not being booked at all to getting a prime slot on the card versus…. Puma Rhyse? Really? Is this some sort of sick twisted game you are playing with me, DeBlanc? It must be, and like I stated before… you don’t know me. BUT… just because you don’t know me does not entitle you to treat me as an afterthought. Trust me, Seb… I am NOBODY’S afterthought.

[Punch. Crunch. Crack]

I say this, and yet… I go from facing a “Never Was” in Tammy Jay to a “Has Been” in Puma Rhyse. Oh come off it… yes, you’re tough as nails. Tall, powerful, ferocious… one hell of a competitor. You’re also a walking billboard… the disclaimer on the cigarette pack: look upon me children and see the worst case scenario that your life can lead to. Is that supposed to impress me? You’ve damn near killed yourself dozens of times over. And what has that earned you, dear? A multitude of title reigns, fame and glory? Doubtful. More likely a multitude of broken bones and a few less brain cells.

[Thoom]

And so you keep chugging along. You can take a ton of punishment and dish it out all the same. A lesser person would’ve quit years ago. But you can’t can you? It’s in your blood. That next match is another fix for your adrenaline rush; hoping you can spark something and maybe light a fire, a glimmer of years gone past. No, Puma… you can’t hang it up willfully. You’ll probably one day be carried from this ring and spend your twilight years with a cane or a wheelchair for accompaniment, or die in the very ring as a worst case scenario. Some might consider my words sensational. I like to think I’m hitting the nail right on the head, tough as it may be.

[Clank… Snap. Woom! The side of beef snapped off from the hook and fell to the floor in a pile]

Bring me your worst, Puma. Your sick sick worst. I don’t pity you like some around here might. You’re still probably tougher than a portion of these other women around here. BUT, what does beating you solve, Puma? Will they misconstrue me again out there, when I’m standing tall in victory over you? Because it will surely come to pass. There is no joy or sense of accomplishment in the slaughterhouse when the steel hammer bolt shoots through the skull of an old cow, putting it down. But just like in the slaughterhouse, so it goes in the ring: it’s nothing personal, the job must be done.

[Picks up the slabs and slings it into the wall, furious]

And understand for certain, DeBlanc. I’m here to do a job. And my job is not to workout some wet behind the ears rookies or trade armageddon shots with sadistic old sideshow freaks. For instance, you put some bounty on Brine because you want your precious belt back? You could’ve come to me discretely and asked and saved yourself $10,000.00. But you want to cause a fuss, let’s see how many people fail at that task.

[stomps the beef]

I mentioned being thankful earlier. The Pitt should be very thankful… out of all the wrestling organizations in the world that I looked at, I chose you. Do not sour me on that choice. You don’t know me, but you’re about to very well. You’re sitting on the most valuable piece of your entire roster set, and you don’t even know it. And I will rip, tear, and claw and be in the face of everyone that matters until you all know it to be true. I fear not a single soul on this roster, be they taller, heavier, craftier, more resourceful. I’m serving notice, let it be said: everyone’s claim to greatness in the Pitt is called into question as of this moment. There is a storm coming, and by God make no mistake, I am the Thunder.
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