Post by Sentinel on May 1, 2015 17:45:06 GMT -6
To put it kindly, the place is a dive. It's the sort of run-down, hick-infested watering hole that's survived on the regulars who are stubborn to fall in the grave they're drinking themselves toward. Maybe that's a little unkind, but when your idea of live music is a half-busted karaoke machine and 'imported' means 'snuck over the state line in an old gas can'...well, you get the picture. Yet despite its faults, the glasses were clean, the beer cold and the pool tables level. In other words it served its purpose. Tonight, that purpose was a clandestine meeting between two ranked members of the Dead Men. In truth the whole club was present, but while the majority of them took up space at the bar and a side table drinking away the day's ride, Shawn Crowe and Sentinel were chalking up a couple cues at one of the pool tables.
Setting his aside, Sentinel racked for the first game while the President took up a spot near the head of the table. His attention was on the club's Sergeant-At-Arms who kept his own eyes on the arranged balls, making sure the formation was tight. Gingerly lifting the rack out of the way, he gestured for Shawn to brake after taking up his cue. Instead, Crowe stared at Sentinel for several moments, before breaking what was a most uncomfortable silence.
Shawn Crowe: "So you gonna say anything or did we ride out here for nothing?"
Sentinel takes a deep breath, half-leaning on his cue before bringing his attention to the President, staring right back.
Sentinel: "Why?"
Shawn Crowe: "Why what?"
His countenance turning into a dire snarl, Sentinel picks up his beer bottle from the edge of the table and gulps down near half of it in one swig. Letting the cold beverage soak into his system a bit first, he replaces the bottle and attempts to respond calmly.
Sentinel: "Why did you take a job from that shithead Macguire? Haven't you been paying attention to the shit that's been going down lately?"
Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, I have. Doesn't make that question any less stupid, brother."
Sentinel: "I beg to differ. Why'd you take the job?"
Lining up his shot, Shawn takes his attention off Sentinel and focuses on the arranged balls. One piston-like motion of his cue later and a loud crack sounds in the small bar. The thirteen ball drops into a corner pocket as Shawn rises again, looking toward Sentinel.
Shawn Crowe: "To pay the bills."
Sentinel: "...and?"
Shawn Crowe: "And nothing. That's it. I didn't know we needed another fuckin' reason to take a job, brother."
Sentinel: "You should've told him to go fuck himself. Those are the same people that go around drugging people and getting into all sorts of bullshit that we don't need to be associated with. That don't begin to count the fact they kicked the shit out of Brody."
Lining up another shot, Shawn eyes Sentinel again. There's impatience in his manner now, as though he's having to answer a question for a child for the second or third time. Sinking another ball, Shawn picks up his own beer and sips it before responding.
Shawn Crowe: "So because he's your buddy we should've said no to two months worth of bills being paid? That's not good business, man. Nothing we did went against any of the rules we live and work by. I don't see what the big damn problem is. Macguire paid us to keep people from getting in his business and we did. Beyond that, it's on him. So if you have a problem...go to him."
It could've been said less coldly, but Shawn made no attempt to sugarcoat his reasoning on the matter. A couple of the other club members glanced over, whispering to one another out of earshot. After missing his second shot, Shawn stepped back while Sentinel moved forward. His attention wasn't on the table but instead on the club president.
Sentinel: "I don't like it."
Shawn Crowe: "You don't have to like it. We knew you'd start something over it so we left you out of the loop on purpose. Considering the shit going down around you, we thought that was the proper thing to do anyway."
The shot is harder than it needs to be and as a result the seven ball bounces off the edge just short of sinking into a side pocket. Sentinel takes in a breath as he stands back up, signaling the waitress for another beer before downing the rest of his, plunking down the empty bottle on the edge of another table. Shawn avoids looking at him as he takes his shot but the tension is hard to miss. By association it throws Crowe off enough that he ends up sinking a solid by accident. He mutters a curse under his breath and picks up his beer again as the waitress comes over.
Waitress: "Another one, sugah?"
Shawn Crowe: "No thanks."
Sentinel: "'The thing to do'?"
Shawn Crowe: "Look..."
Sentinel accepts the fresh brew from the young woman, leaving a few singles on her tray as she heads back to the bar. But his attention is on Shawn, the fact that it's his turn forgotten.
Shawn Crowe: "...we were all there for what went down back home. And we put aside a lot of business to do that for you. Do you know why? Loyalty, brother. You've rode with us for a lot of years, fought by our side in some rotten situations. Like you, we were convinced that settling this shit would offer you some peace. But it didn't. You and Robert's family are cool now and that helped us out considerably, but now it's back to business as usual. Because shit didn't turn out the way you hoped it would doesn't mean our world stops too. All in all, you should be thankful you got that much out of it."
Sentinel: "Thankful, huh?"
This time the shot is dead on, enough to send the three into the corner pocket. Without pause, Sentinel lines up another shot and drains the seven as well. He laughs to himself with a shake of the head, his grip on the pool cue just a bit too tight.
Sentinel: "Thankful about what? My brothers letting a friend of mine get the shit beaten out of him? A wife who won't speak to me or let my daughter speak to me? Family turning on me? Everyone and their mother accusing me of being some psychotic stalker? Stop me if I'm getting warm..."
Shawn Crowe: "Business is business. That's the last damn thing I'm saying about the Brody situation. And for the record? Attacking a pregnant woman is pretty fucking low. You telling me that you condone that shit?"
Sentinel: "Considering the bitch had it coming?"
Shawn Crowe: "Same bitch that offered to pay Zachariah's medical bills when the Children beat him down."
Popping the cap on the fresh beer, Sentinel drains a good portion of it while Shawn likewise downs some of his. The two are staring daggers at each other right now and surprisingly it's Sentinel that breaks the stare first, lining up his next shot.
Sentinel: "Ancient history."
Shawn Crowe: "Whatever you say."
Forcing himself to calm down somehow, Sentinel sinks a pair...though it's one of each. Shawn moves in to take his shot. There's something on his mind now but he says nothing, not even Sentinel picks up on the unspoken word and watches him.
Sentinel: "What?"
Shawn Crowe: "Fuck's up with this stalker shit?"
Sentinel: "You gonna start too?"
Shawn stops short of making the shot, rising again.
Shawn Crowe: "Christ, man! I didn't say I thought it was you! You getting that much shit about it?"
Sentinel: "Five bucks says you go on any wrestling site that covers what we do and someone will pipe in with their two cents. And yeah, a lot of 'em think it's me."
Shawn Crowe: "But it isn't?"
A stare from the Destroyer shuts that line of questioning down and Shawn, holding up his hands as if to say 'dropping it', returns to aiming his shot. No luck on this one, prompting Sentinel to line up now.
Sentinel: "And if that ain't enough, I finally get cleared to step back in the ring and the rook they have me in there against doesn't even know she's in a damn match. Ain't that some shit? Weeks away from only my second shot at the big belt in over a year and this is what I'm working with? Bullshit."
Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, I...had a look at that. Girl flinches because she thinks someone's going to hit her and a couple hours later she's ready to mash some poor bastard with a hammer. And not a damn word about the match, either. I ain't pretending that I know much about this business but when someone does you the courtesy of showing you a little respect and giving you fair warning that shit's getting hairy, they could at least, y'know, respond."
Snorting in irritated agreement, Sentinel takes a shot and comes up just as dry as Shawn last time. Elsewhere in the bar, a cell phone rings and Frederick fishes the device out of his pocket to answer it. Shawn shoots him a look but says nothing, turning back to the table to take his shot.
Shawn Crowe: "You're not gonna do something stupid, are you?"
Sentinel: "Define 'stupid'."
Shawn Crowe: "Not take this seriously."
Shawn sinks another ball then pauses to chalk up his cue again, staring dead at Sentinel.
Shawn Crowe: "You talked about how wrestling's all you got right now, didn't you?"
Sentinel: "Look, Shawn, that wasn't a shot..."
The Dead Men President holds up a hand, shaking his head.
Shawn Crowe: "Didn't say it was. Just recounting what I saw and heard."
Sentinel: "...yeah, I said somethin' to that effect."
Shawn Crowe: "Well..."
He barely misses sinking another ball thanks to a stripe being in the way just enough.
Shawn Crowe: "...just so long as you remember that."
Sentinel is about to retort when Frederick comes up to the table.
Frederick Vance: "Possible job on the line, boss. Close by, too. You want a word?"
Shawn takes up the phone and starts to speak to the person on the other end. Frederick lifts his bottle in the direction of Sentinel, a gesture that's returned. Both, however, return their focus to Shawn when he finishes the call and tosses the phone back to Vance. He then gestures to the others, who rise from their seats and congregate around the table.
Shawn Crowe: "Word from one of our contacts says there's a bounty nearby. Two guys. Word is they've hit a bank or few and got some...assault charges."
The way Shawn says 'assault' says plenty. Sentinel in particular tightens up at the tone.
Shawn Crowe: "We're already here. Might as well get some work done. You coming?"
Sentinel: "Yeah, I could do with something simple for a change."
Shawn Crowe: "Since when is running down assholes like these guys ever simple?"
Sentinel: "Simpler than figuring out Artemis."
Both men chuckle dryly at that one and, along with the rest, Sentinel heads out of the bar. The unmistakable sound of Harleys starting up overpower even the aged jukebox in the dive before the Dead Men as a whole tear out of the lot and down the road.
The feed returns moments later (for us) and appears to be yet another case of Sentinel doing the selfie-video-thing just as he did last time. Instead of being on the side of the road, though, he appears to be backstage at the very arena in which Mayhem is set to take place. The Destroyer's expression is a severe one as he walks down the backstage hallways which, for now, are devoid of any living souls other than himself.
Sentinel: "I'm going to keep this short, Artemis, since you seem to be a busy girl lately. Too busy, in fact, to remember that you have a match."
A smile appears to be trying to fight its way through Sentinel's dark mood. It is a fight that fails.
Sentinel: "That is, unless torture is how you prepare to step into the ring with someone like me, in which case good on you for being proactive. But really, I find it insulting that you didn't once acknowledge one goddamn word that was said. And part of me gets it. I really do. You're new to the wrestling thing. Despite some impressive flashes in your debut match, things didn't pan out for you. Maybe that damaged your confidence a little bit, making you wonder if you should have tried in the first place. A lot of people go through that in this business. It's the first roadblock to weed out the pretenders. For those that stick it out past that point, most double-down and work harder so that it doesn't happen again. That isn't what you're doing far as I can see. And since I don't think you're intimidated by me despite all the reasons that you should be, it begs the question: what's your deal?
You'd better figure that out before Monday, otherwise your second match might be your last in the UWA."
Sentinel pauses to open a door, walking into what will be the locker room area come Monday night. He drops his bag on one of the bolted down benches and takes a seat, keeping the camera on himself through every step.
Sentinel: "There's really nothing else I can say here. I've told you exactly what's coming and whether you paid it any heed is something I won't know until the bell rings. Sitting here and threatening you or trying to pump you up with cute comments and cliches...that's not worth my time. You're either going to nut up or you're going to walk into your own massacre like a blind rabbit. Thing is, I don't give a shit either way. You're an opponent. I'm contractually obligated to make your life a living hell between the bells."
He chuckles dryly, mostly under his breath.
Sentinel: "I already know how this is gonna go. Come the eleventh hour you're gonna find yourself a camera and unleash a verbal lashing on me. Or you're going to TRY to. Everything I've said here is going to get thrown back in my face and you're going to promise that I'll get more than I bargained for and la-de-fuckin'-da.
You won't be the first and you won't be the last to take that road, Artemis. But allow me to let you in on a little secret: it'll all be a big damn lie. If you show up on camera and talk yourself up with Hunter peering over your shoulder, talking about this Mayhem won't be like the last one, you'll be lying through your pretty teeth. Any and all comments directed toward you thinking for a hot damn second that you're going to beat me, hurt me or whatever else is just lipstick on a corpse. You won't fool me or anyone else with that shit so...just spare yourself now, huh?"
Sentinel shakes his head a little.
Sentinel: "Think I'm cocky? Tell that to everyone except one who's come before you. They walked the same road you're walking down and ended the night staring at the lights. It's not because I'm the best wrestler in the UWA or because I'm the unstoppable monster I've been built up to be. I'm damn good at what I do, sure, but I have limits. And an opponent who takes a cerebral approach to fighting me and doesn't bullshit themselves or anyone else? They're the ones that are going to challenge me most. That's the route Bethany took and she snuffed out my one-on-one undefeated streak like that."
He snaps his fingers sharply to emphasize that point.
Sentinel: "Like I said: there's a reason she's champion. But she's the only one who's treated me like a true threat leading up to our match and she's the only one in this company who's put a direct black mark on my record. You see what I'm getting at here? You're playing the ignorance card and hoping that by getting the last word in that somehow, some way, you'll get in my head enough that you can sneak in a win. And beating me would do a lot for you. Number-one contender, after all.
And maybe, just maybe, I'm being harsh here. I'm probably coming off as a mean, arrogant asshole. And if that's the case, so be it. I can't control what people think of me or what the general perception of me is. If I could, this stalker bullshit would have been a memory before the first word left people's lips. On the off chance that you're one of those types of thinkers, I'll tell you exactly what I am:"
Sentinel leans in close.
Sentinel: "I'm honest and I'm real. When I said last time I was sorry for what you were stepping into, I meant it. As you can see, the situation ain't much better than it was. And your silent ignorance isn't helping that. So do yourself a favor: do what we all know you're going to do anyway so that when the time comes I can put you away as the fans expect me to. And when you're laid out on the mat after the fight's over, I want you to remember that I gave you the chance to be something more than a victim."
Getting to his feet, Sentinel gives one last look into the camera before shutting it off and ending the promo.
Setting his aside, Sentinel racked for the first game while the President took up a spot near the head of the table. His attention was on the club's Sergeant-At-Arms who kept his own eyes on the arranged balls, making sure the formation was tight. Gingerly lifting the rack out of the way, he gestured for Shawn to brake after taking up his cue. Instead, Crowe stared at Sentinel for several moments, before breaking what was a most uncomfortable silence.
Shawn Crowe: "So you gonna say anything or did we ride out here for nothing?"
Sentinel takes a deep breath, half-leaning on his cue before bringing his attention to the President, staring right back.
Sentinel: "Why?"
Shawn Crowe: "Why what?"
His countenance turning into a dire snarl, Sentinel picks up his beer bottle from the edge of the table and gulps down near half of it in one swig. Letting the cold beverage soak into his system a bit first, he replaces the bottle and attempts to respond calmly.
Sentinel: "Why did you take a job from that shithead Macguire? Haven't you been paying attention to the shit that's been going down lately?"
Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, I have. Doesn't make that question any less stupid, brother."
Sentinel: "I beg to differ. Why'd you take the job?"
Lining up his shot, Shawn takes his attention off Sentinel and focuses on the arranged balls. One piston-like motion of his cue later and a loud crack sounds in the small bar. The thirteen ball drops into a corner pocket as Shawn rises again, looking toward Sentinel.
Shawn Crowe: "To pay the bills."
Sentinel: "...and?"
Shawn Crowe: "And nothing. That's it. I didn't know we needed another fuckin' reason to take a job, brother."
Sentinel: "You should've told him to go fuck himself. Those are the same people that go around drugging people and getting into all sorts of bullshit that we don't need to be associated with. That don't begin to count the fact they kicked the shit out of Brody."
Lining up another shot, Shawn eyes Sentinel again. There's impatience in his manner now, as though he's having to answer a question for a child for the second or third time. Sinking another ball, Shawn picks up his own beer and sips it before responding.
Shawn Crowe: "So because he's your buddy we should've said no to two months worth of bills being paid? That's not good business, man. Nothing we did went against any of the rules we live and work by. I don't see what the big damn problem is. Macguire paid us to keep people from getting in his business and we did. Beyond that, it's on him. So if you have a problem...go to him."
It could've been said less coldly, but Shawn made no attempt to sugarcoat his reasoning on the matter. A couple of the other club members glanced over, whispering to one another out of earshot. After missing his second shot, Shawn stepped back while Sentinel moved forward. His attention wasn't on the table but instead on the club president.
Sentinel: "I don't like it."
Shawn Crowe: "You don't have to like it. We knew you'd start something over it so we left you out of the loop on purpose. Considering the shit going down around you, we thought that was the proper thing to do anyway."
The shot is harder than it needs to be and as a result the seven ball bounces off the edge just short of sinking into a side pocket. Sentinel takes in a breath as he stands back up, signaling the waitress for another beer before downing the rest of his, plunking down the empty bottle on the edge of another table. Shawn avoids looking at him as he takes his shot but the tension is hard to miss. By association it throws Crowe off enough that he ends up sinking a solid by accident. He mutters a curse under his breath and picks up his beer again as the waitress comes over.
Waitress: "Another one, sugah?"
Shawn Crowe: "No thanks."
Sentinel: "'The thing to do'?"
Shawn Crowe: "Look..."
Sentinel accepts the fresh brew from the young woman, leaving a few singles on her tray as she heads back to the bar. But his attention is on Shawn, the fact that it's his turn forgotten.
Shawn Crowe: "...we were all there for what went down back home. And we put aside a lot of business to do that for you. Do you know why? Loyalty, brother. You've rode with us for a lot of years, fought by our side in some rotten situations. Like you, we were convinced that settling this shit would offer you some peace. But it didn't. You and Robert's family are cool now and that helped us out considerably, but now it's back to business as usual. Because shit didn't turn out the way you hoped it would doesn't mean our world stops too. All in all, you should be thankful you got that much out of it."
Sentinel: "Thankful, huh?"
This time the shot is dead on, enough to send the three into the corner pocket. Without pause, Sentinel lines up another shot and drains the seven as well. He laughs to himself with a shake of the head, his grip on the pool cue just a bit too tight.
Sentinel: "Thankful about what? My brothers letting a friend of mine get the shit beaten out of him? A wife who won't speak to me or let my daughter speak to me? Family turning on me? Everyone and their mother accusing me of being some psychotic stalker? Stop me if I'm getting warm..."
Shawn Crowe: "Business is business. That's the last damn thing I'm saying about the Brody situation. And for the record? Attacking a pregnant woman is pretty fucking low. You telling me that you condone that shit?"
Sentinel: "Considering the bitch had it coming?"
Shawn Crowe: "Same bitch that offered to pay Zachariah's medical bills when the Children beat him down."
Popping the cap on the fresh beer, Sentinel drains a good portion of it while Shawn likewise downs some of his. The two are staring daggers at each other right now and surprisingly it's Sentinel that breaks the stare first, lining up his next shot.
Sentinel: "Ancient history."
Shawn Crowe: "Whatever you say."
Forcing himself to calm down somehow, Sentinel sinks a pair...though it's one of each. Shawn moves in to take his shot. There's something on his mind now but he says nothing, not even Sentinel picks up on the unspoken word and watches him.
Sentinel: "What?"
Shawn Crowe: "Fuck's up with this stalker shit?"
Sentinel: "You gonna start too?"
Shawn stops short of making the shot, rising again.
Shawn Crowe: "Christ, man! I didn't say I thought it was you! You getting that much shit about it?"
Sentinel: "Five bucks says you go on any wrestling site that covers what we do and someone will pipe in with their two cents. And yeah, a lot of 'em think it's me."
Shawn Crowe: "But it isn't?"
A stare from the Destroyer shuts that line of questioning down and Shawn, holding up his hands as if to say 'dropping it', returns to aiming his shot. No luck on this one, prompting Sentinel to line up now.
Sentinel: "And if that ain't enough, I finally get cleared to step back in the ring and the rook they have me in there against doesn't even know she's in a damn match. Ain't that some shit? Weeks away from only my second shot at the big belt in over a year and this is what I'm working with? Bullshit."
Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, I...had a look at that. Girl flinches because she thinks someone's going to hit her and a couple hours later she's ready to mash some poor bastard with a hammer. And not a damn word about the match, either. I ain't pretending that I know much about this business but when someone does you the courtesy of showing you a little respect and giving you fair warning that shit's getting hairy, they could at least, y'know, respond."
Snorting in irritated agreement, Sentinel takes a shot and comes up just as dry as Shawn last time. Elsewhere in the bar, a cell phone rings and Frederick fishes the device out of his pocket to answer it. Shawn shoots him a look but says nothing, turning back to the table to take his shot.
Shawn Crowe: "You're not gonna do something stupid, are you?"
Sentinel: "Define 'stupid'."
Shawn Crowe: "Not take this seriously."
Shawn sinks another ball then pauses to chalk up his cue again, staring dead at Sentinel.
Shawn Crowe: "You talked about how wrestling's all you got right now, didn't you?"
Sentinel: "Look, Shawn, that wasn't a shot..."
The Dead Men President holds up a hand, shaking his head.
Shawn Crowe: "Didn't say it was. Just recounting what I saw and heard."
Sentinel: "...yeah, I said somethin' to that effect."
Shawn Crowe: "Well..."
He barely misses sinking another ball thanks to a stripe being in the way just enough.
Shawn Crowe: "...just so long as you remember that."
Sentinel is about to retort when Frederick comes up to the table.
Frederick Vance: "Possible job on the line, boss. Close by, too. You want a word?"
Shawn takes up the phone and starts to speak to the person on the other end. Frederick lifts his bottle in the direction of Sentinel, a gesture that's returned. Both, however, return their focus to Shawn when he finishes the call and tosses the phone back to Vance. He then gestures to the others, who rise from their seats and congregate around the table.
Shawn Crowe: "Word from one of our contacts says there's a bounty nearby. Two guys. Word is they've hit a bank or few and got some...assault charges."
The way Shawn says 'assault' says plenty. Sentinel in particular tightens up at the tone.
Shawn Crowe: "We're already here. Might as well get some work done. You coming?"
Sentinel: "Yeah, I could do with something simple for a change."
Shawn Crowe: "Since when is running down assholes like these guys ever simple?"
Sentinel: "Simpler than figuring out Artemis."
Both men chuckle dryly at that one and, along with the rest, Sentinel heads out of the bar. The unmistakable sound of Harleys starting up overpower even the aged jukebox in the dive before the Dead Men as a whole tear out of the lot and down the road.
The feed returns moments later (for us) and appears to be yet another case of Sentinel doing the selfie-video-thing just as he did last time. Instead of being on the side of the road, though, he appears to be backstage at the very arena in which Mayhem is set to take place. The Destroyer's expression is a severe one as he walks down the backstage hallways which, for now, are devoid of any living souls other than himself.
Sentinel: "I'm going to keep this short, Artemis, since you seem to be a busy girl lately. Too busy, in fact, to remember that you have a match."
A smile appears to be trying to fight its way through Sentinel's dark mood. It is a fight that fails.
Sentinel: "That is, unless torture is how you prepare to step into the ring with someone like me, in which case good on you for being proactive. But really, I find it insulting that you didn't once acknowledge one goddamn word that was said. And part of me gets it. I really do. You're new to the wrestling thing. Despite some impressive flashes in your debut match, things didn't pan out for you. Maybe that damaged your confidence a little bit, making you wonder if you should have tried in the first place. A lot of people go through that in this business. It's the first roadblock to weed out the pretenders. For those that stick it out past that point, most double-down and work harder so that it doesn't happen again. That isn't what you're doing far as I can see. And since I don't think you're intimidated by me despite all the reasons that you should be, it begs the question: what's your deal?
You'd better figure that out before Monday, otherwise your second match might be your last in the UWA."
Sentinel pauses to open a door, walking into what will be the locker room area come Monday night. He drops his bag on one of the bolted down benches and takes a seat, keeping the camera on himself through every step.
Sentinel: "There's really nothing else I can say here. I've told you exactly what's coming and whether you paid it any heed is something I won't know until the bell rings. Sitting here and threatening you or trying to pump you up with cute comments and cliches...that's not worth my time. You're either going to nut up or you're going to walk into your own massacre like a blind rabbit. Thing is, I don't give a shit either way. You're an opponent. I'm contractually obligated to make your life a living hell between the bells."
He chuckles dryly, mostly under his breath.
Sentinel: "I already know how this is gonna go. Come the eleventh hour you're gonna find yourself a camera and unleash a verbal lashing on me. Or you're going to TRY to. Everything I've said here is going to get thrown back in my face and you're going to promise that I'll get more than I bargained for and la-de-fuckin'-da.
You won't be the first and you won't be the last to take that road, Artemis. But allow me to let you in on a little secret: it'll all be a big damn lie. If you show up on camera and talk yourself up with Hunter peering over your shoulder, talking about this Mayhem won't be like the last one, you'll be lying through your pretty teeth. Any and all comments directed toward you thinking for a hot damn second that you're going to beat me, hurt me or whatever else is just lipstick on a corpse. You won't fool me or anyone else with that shit so...just spare yourself now, huh?"
Sentinel shakes his head a little.
Sentinel: "Think I'm cocky? Tell that to everyone except one who's come before you. They walked the same road you're walking down and ended the night staring at the lights. It's not because I'm the best wrestler in the UWA or because I'm the unstoppable monster I've been built up to be. I'm damn good at what I do, sure, but I have limits. And an opponent who takes a cerebral approach to fighting me and doesn't bullshit themselves or anyone else? They're the ones that are going to challenge me most. That's the route Bethany took and she snuffed out my one-on-one undefeated streak like that."
He snaps his fingers sharply to emphasize that point.
Sentinel: "Like I said: there's a reason she's champion. But she's the only one who's treated me like a true threat leading up to our match and she's the only one in this company who's put a direct black mark on my record. You see what I'm getting at here? You're playing the ignorance card and hoping that by getting the last word in that somehow, some way, you'll get in my head enough that you can sneak in a win. And beating me would do a lot for you. Number-one contender, after all.
And maybe, just maybe, I'm being harsh here. I'm probably coming off as a mean, arrogant asshole. And if that's the case, so be it. I can't control what people think of me or what the general perception of me is. If I could, this stalker bullshit would have been a memory before the first word left people's lips. On the off chance that you're one of those types of thinkers, I'll tell you exactly what I am:"
Sentinel leans in close.
Sentinel: "I'm honest and I'm real. When I said last time I was sorry for what you were stepping into, I meant it. As you can see, the situation ain't much better than it was. And your silent ignorance isn't helping that. So do yourself a favor: do what we all know you're going to do anyway so that when the time comes I can put you away as the fans expect me to. And when you're laid out on the mat after the fight's over, I want you to remember that I gave you the chance to be something more than a victim."
Getting to his feet, Sentinel gives one last look into the camera before shutting it off and ending the promo.
