Post by Sentinel on Feb 5, 2014 12:38:06 GMT -6
- SCENE ONE -
LOCATION: Mayo Civic Center, Rochester, MN - Backstage
TIME: Monday, January 27th, 2014, 11:01pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Zachariah Blood, Rayne, Talon
Mere minutes removed from Sentinel's inaugural match against Pauly O'Conner, the Silent Destroyer and his manager, Zachariah Blood, are on their way down one of the backstage hallways towards the locker room area. Their mere presence parts the waters so to speak. None try to speak to them and fewer stand in their way. Flush with the residual rage that comes with combat, Sentinel's gray eyes are staring straight ahead while Zachariah moves at a similar speed a few paces ahead. There's a bit of swagger in the Masochist's step, though. And why not? His charge's debut match ended in victory.
Not that he had any doubt, of course.
Upon reaching their locker room door, Zachariah all but kicks it open and leads Sentinel in. Already within are two women who turn slowly as the men enter, one standing a few inches over six feet tall thanks to her heeled boots and the other smaller yet just as intense. The taller one walks to Sentinel as he enters, her hands coming up to his cheeks to clasp them as she presses crimson lips to his own. Zachariah takes the hand of the shorter one and sweeps his kiss along the back of it. Talon and Rayne, the Sisters of Suffering, offer twisted smiles to their respective men-folk before Sentinel is led to the mirror over the counter and Zachariah is brough to the sofa to sit with Rayne.
Talon: "You never fail to impress, my love..."
Talon's voice is murmur-level as she speaks but we can plainly hear what she's saying. She has a bit of white gauze in her hand and though Sentinel is far from injured she checks him over regardless. The Silence Behind the Violence patiently allows her to do so, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Zachariah Blood: "As if there were ever any doubt. I mean isn't this how it always fucking goes? Back in the IWA it was that shit-stain Brian Aguirre. Before Sentinel even had a match he almost put that toothy worm through the goddamn canvas in as beautiful a display of brutality as I've ever seen..."
Rayne laughs softly, shaking her head. Over Sentinel's shoulder, Talon, as she sits perched on the counter, eyes Zachariah. She looks...a bit frustrated. But the Masochist pays her little mind.
Zachariah Blood: "...till we ended up in APW, that is. Who were those first schlubs they threw at us, Mistress? Alex Banksmanship and who?"
Rayne: "I can't remember and it doesn't matter. So what if we can't remember their names? After that match, THEY couldn't remember their OWN names!"
Sentinel sniffs...about as close as he gets to a chuckle.
Zachariah Blood: "I'm surprised they were still walking afterward. But that went for pretty much everyone in that shithole. Some of them turned out to be all right if I have to be honest."
Talon: "Chris Madison and Shadow, perhaps."
Zachariah Blood: "They're about the only ones."
Talon: "Any chance of you getting to the point?"
The eyes of both Rayne and Zachariah turn to Talon who isn't even looking at them. She's just finishing up her check of Sentinel who stands patiently. Rayne rolls her eyes as Zachariah shoots a glare at Talon before continuing.
Zachariah Blood: "The point is that this place is turning out to be the same. From the get, same as always, Sentinel rolls in and pound some poor snot through the ring. I'll give Pauly What's-His-Fuck some credit for hanging for two or three minutes but once the big fella over there got his mitts on him...well, it was pretty much over."
Finishing up, Talon slides off the counter as Sentinel turns to lean upon it, arms folded across his chest. He gives Zachariah a look...
Zachariah Blood: "...what?"
...and just shakes his head. Picking up Talon's tablet from the counter, he quickly brings up the recording of the show that had just ended. Bringing it up to a point near the beginning, something they'd missed with pre-match preparations to tend to, Sentinel hands it to his manager who takes it with curious impatience. A few moments later, he snorts almost out of boredom.
Rayne: "A Fatal-Four Way Qualifier for a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship? Just because those people were the first to sign up? What kind of slipshod bullshit is that?!"
Zachariah Blood: "That's like deciding which monkey from the animal house at the zoo to train based on how far he can fling his own turds. How else could a mouth-breather like Tommy Zeller get within sniffing distance of a World Heavyweight Title shot? Nick Daniels stomped the grease out of him a few minutes ago...we all saw it."
Talon rejoins Sentinel, handing him a bottle of water as she sips from one of her own.
Talon: "Watch what you say. Sentinel is a part of that little tournament as well. And Nick Daniels is nothing to scoff at based on what we saw tonight. Perhaps instead of tossing out insults, Zachariah, you should concern yourself with who Sentinel must face to earn his spot. None of them, not even Aerynn or Jeszika, should be taken lightly."
Zachariah Blood: "The hell do you know about either of them?"
Smirking around her drink of water, Talon finishes and tosses her crimson hair behind her shoulder, giving Blood the full brunt of her acid-green stare.
Talon: "I pay attention. The bottom line is that no matter who's standing across the ring from our Silent Destroyer, they must be picked apart before that bell rings. The Order will not tolerate more failure from us as I'm sure you're aware. And I refuse to deal with mistakes that could have been avoided."
Rayne: "As much as I hate agreeing with her, she's right, pet. Find out who his opponent is. Until then..."
Talon: "...until then, we're heading home for a while. You two should do the same."
The four exchange glances and nod in agreement. All rise and Zachariah, sweeping through a new message on his phone, speaks up.
Zachariah Blood: "Broderick Montgomery III. No Disqualification. Looks like he got spanked by a bunch of pissed-off women tonight. I'd say he got off light, though. If it were you two..."
Blood looks between the Sisters of Suffering for a moment before looking back to the phone.
Zachariah Blood: "...he'd be limping to his death against Sentinel. Anyway..."
Rayne: "ANYWAY...we'll see the two of you in Fort Collins on Wednesday."
Zachariah and Rayne leave the room and once they've been gone a few months, Talon sighs softly. She shakes her head and looks over her shoulder at Sentinel.
Talon: "I'm not sure about this, love. Perhaps I should step in..."
Shaking his head, Sentinel sets his heavy hands on her shoulders and she reaches up to clasp them as she stares at the door. With a nod, they remain as they are and the scene turns to black.
- SCENE TWO -
LOCATION: Sentinel's Home, Valley Forge, TN
TIME: Sunday, February 2nd, 2014, 9:17pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Talon
One week (almost) removed from the inaugural Monday Night Mayhem and Sentinel is enjoying a quiet evening in his country home. Seated out on the back deck, his long legs propped up on the railing as he reclines in one of the deck chairs, he has a brown bottle clutched in his massive right hand. Clouds aren't too bad tonight...there's enough empty space to spot some stars and a bit of moonlight. Off across the yard we can see his workshop where his first-ever message to the masses (such as it was) took place. Right now, though, the ring is the furthest thing from his mind. Comfortable in a flannel shirt and jeans, Sentinel is taking in the peace that only a country setting can provide. There's just a little light shining through the sliding glass door from the kitchen...enough to let him find his way about if necessary.
But it's obvious that he's not moving any time soon. The door is, however, thanks to Talon making her way out for a bit. In a black, off-the-shoulder top and jeans that hug her tall frame, she saunters up behind Sentinel's chair and puts her hands to his shoulders. Soon she's working his thick muscles and his eyes are closing. He takes a ginger sip of his beverage and leans back enough to look up at her.
Talon: "Doing some thinking?"
Looking up at Talon for a moment, he nods and turns his eyes back to the sky. She smiles and tilts back to look with him.
Talon: "I guess I can't blame you for that. After what happened in APW, I find myself being pretty gun-shy about this Unchained place. And Zachariah doesn't seem to be taking things as seriously as he should. That's not good for you, as if you needed me to tell you that."
We hear him exhale deeply and drain the rest of his bottle before he nods in agreement. Sentinel's face sets like stone as he now not watches, but glares, at the sky above. Talon takes the empty bottle from his hand and draws another from the ice chest sitting nearby. She pops the lid off and takes a sip herself before putting it in his hand. Her fingertips linger upon his skin as she kneels down by the chair, drawing his attention.
Talon: "I will step in if you wish me to. It would be no issue to hire someone to come here and..."
But Sentinel cuts her off with a shake of his head. He looks toward the door as we hear a soft tapping and smiles gently, a rare sight for him, before his stare is back on Talon. She turns as well and can't help but smile herself.
Talon: "You're right. But if the Order wills it we really have no choice and I'd rather it not come to that. I will sit on the idea for now but if things proceed down a darker path...well, we don't want others making our choices for us. Just promise me that you won't let what happens change you. I don't think that's what they want. It...certainly isn't what I want."
Sentinel shifts his drink to his other hand and gives Talon's a squeeze. She looks reassured as she returns to the house while Sentinel looks back to the sky. Silently (as if it would be any other way) he lifts his drink toward the stars before taking a long draw. Once again, we cut to darkness.
- SCENE THREE -
LOCATION: Moby Arena, Fort Collins, CO - Workout Room
TIME: Wednesday, February 5th, 2014, 12:23pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Zachariah Blood
Even in moments where Herculean effort is put forth, simple or otherwise, Sentinel lives up to his multiple monikers speaking of not speaking.
Currently that includes laying back on the weight bench and pushing up a loaded bar in rhythm, his breaths matching the rises and falls unerringly. From the looks of it, there's around 300 pounds on that bar that he's manipulating with seeming ease. But let's be real: pushing that kind of weight isn't easy and it would be stupid to expect people to think that Sentinel is an exception. The effort shows in the bulging of his muscles and the tinge of red to his face not to mention the way the perspiration beads and drips off his brow. As for Zachariah Blood, every full lower and lift of the bar results in a click on a small silver counter in his hand. It is here where he starts to address one Brody the Third while minding his charge's progress.
Zachariah Blood: "27...28...29...30. Need a hand there, big man?"
Sentinel's answer is to make that final lift and set the bar where it belongs before sitting up. He catches the towel Blood tosses his way and mops the wet spot off the bench before wiping his own brow.
Zachariah Blood: "So...Brody. You the sandy-haired, scruffy surfer who jumped out of planes with Neo or some nameless, grease-headed thug in some forgotten James Dean flick? Either are pathetic. As is a mouthy asshole getting his tail kicked in by a bunch of women, no matter how tough they are. And the grand result of your oh-so-biting tantrum against the boss man? Being handed a ticket for a free ass-stomping by none other than the Silent Destroyer. You already had a rough match ahead of you no matter how good you might be. But without rules to keep the Silence Behind the Violence in check?
Might as well douse yourself in steak sauce and wander naked into a pack of angry wolves. It'd be a faster way to go down and it would hurt less, too."
That's about the point where a shit-eating grin would go...after the angry ha-ha-humor. But Zachariah isn't one to smile any more than Sentinel is to speak. They're odd like that. Blood pockets the clicker and picks up the tablet (same one from before). It takes a few touches here and there but soon we can hear Brody mouthing off as he tends to do. Sentinel, on a short break apparently, sips from a sports bottle while Zachariah muses over the message.
Zachariah Blood: "Sounds like he'd rather fight me than you, doesn't it?"
Sentinel grins almost evilly and inclines his chin toward the tablet. Zachariah meets his gaze and almost smirks.
Zachariah Blood: "You couldn't handle me any more than you could Sentinel, Brody, so get that fucked-up notion out of your head. While you're icing down your beans and gearing up for a sexual harassment lawsuit with your soon-to-be-ex secretary, this jacked-up monster right here is actually preparing for your match. Now there's a concept, eh? While most of the people who litter your disgusting orbit are making calls back home and having weddings that would make Dennis Rodman's tattooed hide blush, well...you can see for yourself."
He's not one to show off but Sentinel rises from that bench and with one clench of his musculature he had half the women on the planet gasping and making a mad dash for a clean pair of panties. Then the smile on his face evaporates like an exhale in the winter and his cold, gray eyes are glaring at the camera.
Zachariah Blood: "Priorities, Brody. Yours are fucked up. Sentinel's are dead-on. His eyes are locked on the World Heavyweight Championship and every warm body in his path on the way to it...a path that starts with you. When you're capable of the kind of violent feats that this man can accomplish? You don't HAVE to say a FUCKING thing.
But in this business, that alone won't cut it. Shit must be talked and mud must be flung like so much garbage. And why? Because the masses can't be entertained with simple, bloody violence in and around that ring. It's all entertainment now, not just physicality. Which...kind of makes Sentinel's dominance that much more impressive.
And for the record, if I weren't laid up with an injury of my own you can bet your ass I'd be in that ring looking for a piece of you myself. In fact, I must might do that when these doctors come to their senses and realize I've fought through worse just to GET to a fight."
Blood rolls his eyes in irritation. Sentinel, on his feet near him, sets a hand on his former partner's shoulder. Zachariah doesn't need the damn reassurance...that's what he'd say. But still, the big man offers. And Blood accepts, which is to say he doesn't throw the hand off. Instead, he refocuses his wrath on Brody.
Zachariah Blood: "In your case, shit apparently needs to be repeated because, well, it doesn't sink in the first time. So yeah, I went and told the world again about how you were drowning in estrogen and throwing a hissy fit to the boss man. The fuck are you going to do about it? Anything my mouth gets Sentinel into, he can get out of. And you're falling for it hook, line and sinker. That makes you just like everyone else, Brody: nothing special. If you get the win, so be it. There will be other fights. If you don't, well...who didn't see it coming after last week?
Assholes come in all shapes and sizes and Sentinel has run the gamut in his short but successful career. Exactly what about the fact that you have no history is a hinderance to him? I mean, really? So you're a fresh opponent. How that usually works is you'll get in a few pretty moves and good licks, bouncing off his wall of pissed-off humanity until he finally latches on to you. Just because he's big doesn't mean he's not loaded with stamina. You're not the only one who will come as a surprise to Sentinel in this fresh-out-of-the-womb company, Brody. Pauly was the same way: a mystery. The only difference between you and him right now is the retarded accent and the fact that Pauly at least has a little gumption going for him."
Moving over to the curl bar, Sentinel begins to load weight on it as Zachariah continues, waiting for the right moment to start counting reps again.
Zachariah Blood: "And when the Silent Destroyer does latch on to you, count on that happening by the way, he's going to do things to you that will make your enemies wince. 'Take it easy on the little guy,' they'll say. Fuck that noise. You're in the way. Sentinel will move you out of his way. The more you fight back, the more it's going to hurt. And if you ever want to have the physical capability to molest a woman again before she busts your grapes..."
Out comes the reset clicker and as Sentinel starts curling a good 75 pounds or so in smooth, paced lifts, Zachariah turns his focus back to his charge.
Zachariah Blood: "...you're going to drop the rhetoric and the veiled implications. The last thing you'll ever want in your misbegotten life is to give Sentinel more reason than he already has to turn you into human origami. They're still putting back together the last Humpty Dumpty who let his stupid get the better of him.
And as for the rest of your tirade? Well...you can just wonder what we think of that for a day or two. For now, we're done here."
Fade to black on the chiseled form of Sentinel and the sneering veneer of Zachariah Blood.
- END -
