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Five to One, Babe... One to Five....; Tora Solgaard RP
Topic Started: Dec 2 2015, 02:57 PM (44 Views)
Deleted User
...No One Here Gets Out Alive!

We open to to the sound of a roaring fire. A couple of mice scurry past on the dirty cracked concrete floor. We pan around to see old rusted metal support columns spaced around the room, floor to ceiling. The fire crackles, but as the camera comes closer we hear more sounds, a metal shuck sound being the best description. The camera catches the movement, the source of the sound: a silver metal spade being thrust into a huge pile of coal in the corner of this room. More sounds, grunts and cursing under breath. The shovel is held by a stocky muscular woman, who is greasy and grimy, wearing work boots, jeans and a dirty white t-shirt. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and it swings stringy and sweaty as she takes scoop after hefty scoop of coal and turns, walking over a few paces and depositing the coal inside a large industrial looking stove. Each toss of coal is coupled with a yell of righteous defiance. Finally she clangs the shovel down striking the floor, and she turns toward the camera. Her face is grimy, dirty streaked with uneven lines of black running down her face, the coal dust catching her sweat and running down. Her eyes are intense fire, burning a hole through the camera lense as she stares at it moving closer to her. Her teeth bared, lips drawn back in a grimace and her nostrils flared. She is wild, primal, feral… the animal in her enraged. We know this woman to be Tora Solgaard, and she begins to speak.

TORA: You would think I’d be ecstatic, wouldn’t you? In just my third match and already in a Number One Contender match for the Pitt Championship. No, this was expected. It is just, and rightly so. The people in charge recognize power and potential. While some here are taller, and have even more imposing physiques, I will put my power against anyone in the Pitt. If you find yourself between a rock and a hard place, you better bring the thunder. The Thunderess cracks foundations.

Looking around the shoddy basement, the cracked floors echoing her point.

TORA: You see me here now, the expression on my face… do I look angry? I am. Not in being placed in this match but angered by gazing around and seeing so many of us that do not put in the time or the effort, to build themselves up and use their power. Skill is squandered, or worse you parade around masquerading around like you have skill when you probably do not. I’m looking at you, Holly Hotbody.

Spitting on the floor in contempt.

TORA: I keep myself at the same time humble and pride. Who takes for granted all the work and what goes into achieving a thing like success. I stand here now in this old building in my homeland of Norway as winter approaches. Do you take for granted that when you flip a switch the heat comes on and you are cozy and warm? Technology and convenience has made us soft, weak… accustomed to the paths most convenient. I do this to keep myself grounded, to toil and shovel… knowing that nothing worth having ever comes easy.

Tora jabs the shovel into the coal, casting a gaze back over to the flames. She pounds a fist into a palm.

TORA: This Number One Contendership won’t come easy. We are all professionals here, some more professional than others. This match pits five women in a single match… a Battle Royale. We all have the same goal, but only one can survive and advance to New Year’s… to Violent Resolutions. We will find out who is worthy and who will stand tall. Only one of us… while all the others must be eliminated. But which of the five?

She holds up her palm looking at it. She taps her pinky.

TORA: Will it be Holly Hotbody, with her ridiculous name? A woman who wants to be so rich and famous, without any redeeming value. A woman so arrogant but who to this point has used her body to get where she is, and not in an athletic manner, mind you. All of your proclaimed beauty and shown skin will not help you, Holly. When the going gets tough, you will get in your cowardly shitheel stance and slink away from true power. No expertise of a stripper pole will serve you here. If there were a pole involved I would rip it from its moorings and beat you about the head and shoulders, wrap it around you and toss you out of the ring like the conceited piece of garbage you are. You will not advance.

She lowers her pinky and moves over to the ring finger.

TORA: Will it be Kijo? The twisted and evil Boogeywoman of the Pitt? Some sort of curse upon you? You might be the thing that goes bump in the night, but no amount of evil intentions will ever have me fearing you and your sideshow horror movie machinations. Do you want to get violent Kijo? I welcome it. Hit me hard, but make sure you do it first. Something might rain down from this match but it will be no Black Rain I assure you, but my Thunder will be there for certain. Jump Into the Pitt #7 is just not your night, Kijo.

She lowers her ring finger and moves over to the thumb.

TORA: I save my mentions of Cassidy Lee and Melinda Rhodes for last. We have ourselves something of a family affair here, with these half-sisters involved in this match. First, we have the Pretty Hate Machine. Like Kijo, another vision in black, a mean mean girl. Cassidy is only concerned with herself and that might prove to serve her well in a match such as this. You would summon up all your craft and trickery, as you are no stranger to mind games. But just as I am strong of body, I am also strong of mind, Ms. Lee. If you want to butt heads with me, you might find the only thing you get from that is a cracked skull. I will send you from that ring just like I will send all the others… then you can fire up that Pretty Machine and direct all that Hate at yourself, knowing that you have failed, while I have prevailed.

She closes her thumb, leaving only her index finger and middle finger up. She taps back and forth from each fingertip, a smirk forming.

TORA: Last, we have Melinda Rhodes. I save this talk of you for now because of these women I respect you the most. Which may or may not be saying much. But here we are, your name on my lips. Taking all of this in, I intend to paint a picture more vibrant and elaborate than any and all of your tattoos, Melinda. There can be only one winner and I intend on it being me. You claim to be such a rebel… well, Rebel… let’s take it to the edge. Let’s rip every shred of energy away as we tussle and brawl, so near that edge. Someone is going over that edge, Melinda. That edge is a fine line, like the sharpened blade of a knife, you can dance upon it and live with all the cuts and nicks… but one false step and you will fall to the depths below. Out of the ring, to the floor. That is the end result of where I want you on this night, Melinda… such as the rules may be. I only hope we get to properly tussle and not be bothered with too much distraction from these others, as violent and crafty as they are. Every warrior deserves a good honest battle, they feel cheated otherwise. Don’t cheat me from this glory, Melinda.

Tora begins to lower her index finger, leaving her middle finger extended for just a moment, before her grin widens and she shakes her head ‘no’, lowering instead her middle finger, the index remaining up. She holds this up, jabbing it into the camera.

TORA: One! There can be only ONE! And I am that one singular suspect that will be standing tall, my shoulders squared back proudly as I raise this finger on that night just like now. I am Number One, and I am pointing my way to Violent Resolutions… where there is only ONE thing left to do….

She grabs the shovel and slings coal into the open fire of the oven.

TORA: The Thunder will be what powers the House of Pitt!
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