Post by Sentinel on Feb 7, 2014 23:14:53 GMT -6
- SCENE ONE -
LOCATION: Moby Arena, Fort Collins, CO - Parking Lot
TIME: Wednesday, February 5th, 2014, 1:37pm
PLAYERS: Faust, Alessandro
From within the confines of a black Navigator, two black-suited men sit and watch the rear entrances to the Moby Arena. The larger of the two sits in the driver's seat, dark sunglasses masking his eyes, every motion seeming to strain his attire a bit. Considering that he was built like the proverbial brick shithouse, that comes as no surprise. Not a bit of hair on that head or face either save for thin eyebrows, which only added to the intimidation factor. The man sitting in the passenger seat, impeccable in a similarly-styled suit and brushed-back black hair, was staring intently past the driver. A more stylish pair of shades mask his features but there's no hiding the grimace on his features.
He draws an old-fashioned watch on a chain from his vest pocket and flips it open. A few moments later he clicks it shut and exhales in an irritated fashion. A brow lifts on the face of the bald giant as he turns enough to glance at his comrade. The other man meets the stare in silence before they speak.
Alessandro: "You're more agitated than usual, my friend."
It isn't a soft voice, but a gentle one. Either way it isn't what we'd expect to hear from such a man-mountain. Faust looks up into the shaded eyes of his companion and shakes his head.
Faust: "You know, you're the only one who refers to me as such these days, Alessandro."
Alessandro: "Should I not?"
Faust: "Merely an observation. I was given this position because of my abilities and my devotion...not because I'm friendly. Most of our own outside the Circle are afraid of me, in fact."
Alessandro shrugs, his attention going back to the arena.
Alessandro: "I cannot imagine why."
Faust: "Sometimes I wonder if you're even capable of sarcasm."
Alessandro: "I know what I know, Faust. I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you and most of us wouldn't have the opportunity to be part of something better if you hadn't come along. You don't have to be, how do they put it...'warm and fuzzy'...for our sakes."
Faust chuckles quietly.
Alessandro: "Let the others feel as they will. Your efforts mean something beyond accomplished duty to those who bother to see it."
Faust: "You shall forever be an anomaly to us, Alessandro. I think you actually revel in that fact."
Alessandro: "Much like you, I see no need to hide what or who I am."
Faust nods, about to reply when the doors at the back of the arena open and out step Sentinel and Zachariah Blood. Alessandro spots them first and murmurs to his companion as though he expects that the pair might hear him.
Alessandro: "There."
Faust: "Right on time."
The Silent Destroyer and the Masochist hang near the wall, most likely waiting on a ride. Faust watches them without blinking and though Alessandro keeps his eye on them as well, he's also observing his friend.
Alessandro: "No benefit of the doubt?"
Faust: "If they turned once they're capable of doing it again."
Alessandro: "The silent one didn't turn."
Faust: "Blood is an influential sort. He's not beyond turning any of them if he puts his mind to it."
Following Faust's gaze, Alessandro stares a bit more intently at the pair. Zachariah is saying something to Sentinel who is typically silent. Alessandro shakes his head.
Alessandro: "Not after the price paid is what I believe..."
Faust's response is cut off by Alessandro's cell phone. Taking it up, he answers.
Alessandro: "Alessandro. Yes. What? Do we know what...hm? Understood. By your will."
Faust: "Something is amiss?"
For just a few moments Faust's attention is drawn from Blood and Sentinel. Alessandro, as he puts the phone away, turns to him.
Alessandro: "Francesca has had another vision. Grigori is seeing to her. However, the High Priestess wishes us to return now."
Duty battles with desire on Faust's face, resulting in a contortion of anger on his features. Sitting back in his seat after a moment he releases the breath he'd been holding and nods.
Faust: "Very well."
The Navigator pulls away, leaving just the distant sight of Sentinel and Zachariah engaged in their one-sided conversation before we cut to black.
- SCENE TWO -
LOCATION: Ramada Inn, Fort Collins, CO - Bar
TIME: Saturday, February 8th, 2014, 8:19pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Zachariah Blood, Talon
One might see it and say that the bar is empty for 'some reason'. Anyone who would make that comment knows nothing about the two men and the woman sitting at the bar. Oh, there's patrons about...but most are at tables. Only these three, Sentinel, Zachariah and Talon, are seated at the bar, each with a drink before them. It's here that Zachariah stands out; Sentinel and Talon are nursing a little hard liquor with the flavors of their choice while Blood drinks, of all things, ice water.
People are smart enough by now, though, to not poke fun at him for not partaking of the heavy stuff.
Sentinel is the first to notice that the time has come. His stare gets Blood's attention and soon all three have noticed the camera set and ready to take in their message. Smoothing back his spiked hair a little, Blood inclines his chin toward the device as he gets ready to unleash a second time on Sentinel's mouthy opponent. The big man himself returns to his own drink while Talon watches and listens with interest, sitting between the two men.
Zachariah Blood: "Guess it's that time again, Brody. You'll have to forgive us for making you wait, but, well...your feelings aren't our fucking concern. Considering how badly we tore your comment apart the first time? Hell, we could have left it at that and went on our merry way, sitting back and enjoying the sight of Sentinel moving your nose to the other side of your face with his boot. But since you went to the effort of opening your ball-washer a second time? We could hardly resist a retort. That, and..."
Talon: "...and I felt the need to personally assist in putting you in your place."
Zachariah nods once as Sentinel turns from his drink to his lady. To him she gives a playful grin. The camera? She looks at that like a lioness watches a gazelle.
Talon: "Quite the large step down wasn't she, Brody?"
Talon's laugh is as beautiful as it is dangerous. She lifts her drink toward the camera before taking a long sip. Blood merely shakes his head with a dry chuckle, staring into his water glass as he speaks.
Zachariah Blood: "So at what point in your conquest were we supposed to be impressed, Brody, cause if there was one...I fucking missed it. For someone who rails on Sentinel for not speaking, at the VERY least people understand how serious he is about his wrestling. His every action has a purpose, even if it's relaxing and having a drink as you see now. Precious little that you've shat all over the Unchained website gives people the same impression about you. Serious is NOT the word that comes to mind. There's plenty of others, though..."
Talon: "Womanizer..."
Zachariah Blood: "Misanthrope..."
Talon: "Bottom-feeder..."
Zachariah Blood: "Chicken-wuss..."
Talon: "...wait, what?"
Sentinel actually has to hide his smirk behind a hand as Talon looks at Blood with a dark brow elevated. The Masochist, to his credit, doesn't make any stupid, stuttering excuses about the epithet. Instead, he shrugs and sips his water.
Zachariah Blood: "Saw it in a video game."
Talon: "...another whiskey sour, please?"
The bartender comes over to place a fresh drink before the lady while Zachariah no-sells her reaction. Sentinel? The Silent Destroyer is still facepalming at his manager's comment as Blood gets back to the point.
Zachariah Blood: "No one takes you seriously here, Brody. Not the locker room, not the boss, not the guy with the combover who handles the pyro. And believe it or not, it has nothing to do with the ass-beating you got at the first Mayhem. You're a man who buys his way into everything, from contracts to clubs to pussy. That's Sentinel's main problem with you: that you don't earn a damn thing. We're starting to think that if you can't acquire what you want without lying or throwing money at it...you don't want it."
The big man nods slowly, downing his beverage the rest of the way and signalling for another.
Zachariah Blood: "Right about now I picture you sitting in front of the computer, jaw trembling, eyes bulging...wondering why in the hell we haven't talked about your comments toward Talon here. After all, you made some wickedly-suggestive comments about the Angel of Sin, the kinds of things that would have guys like Sentinel looking to tear your throat out before you even made it to the show. But..."
Talon: "...I'm considering the source."
Tossing crimson hair over her shoulder, Talon cants her head just so as she stares into the camera.
Talon: "For all your money and smooth talk, Broderick, you just don't stack up to my Destroyer in the ring or out of it. Everything about you is a facade to hide the scared little man-child that you really are when the cameras turn off. If you were trying to get a reaction out of any of us...you failed. Failed like you did at Monday Night Mayhem. Like you will again in a couple days. Like you will until your balls finally drop and you learn how to be a man. This..."
She slides her arms around the Destroyer, Sentinel putting his drink down and turning to the camera himself.
Talon: "...is what a man looks like. Exuding power without ego and dominance without force, he is set to be the first man ever to hold the UWA World Heavyweight Championship. You'll be lucky if you've the mental capacity to scrub toilets and scrape bubblegum from under the seats after our shows once he's done with you."
Blood rolls his eyes but says nothing to the pair. He's focused on Brody again.
Zachariah Blood: "Still disappointed, motherfucker?"
Talon: "Cassandra is. So is every other woman he managed to bed."
Zachariah Blood: "Typical side-effect of inter-Brody-course. She should have read the warning label."
Talon unwraps herself from Sentinel and has a drink as Blood continues.
Zachariah Blood: "'Extreme chances of fooling yourself' is what it would read. Just like the purple-haired twat fooled herself thinking this Ivy League reject gave a damn about her beyond fucking her while picturing someone else. Just like Brody's fooling himself thinking what he's done won't eventually bite him in the ass. Just like he's fooling himself thinking he knows half of what he's in for. It's the same argument every time with these assholes. When their simple minds can't accept the explanation that they're given, a spiel that's been repeated since the first time Sentinel stepped into a professional ring, they come up with their own stories.
I remember him saying something about how we couldn't find anything on his past to help Sentinel prepare...don't you, Talon?"
Talon: "Something along those lines, yes."
Blood nods knowingly.
Zachariah Blood: "Now, Sentinel's been around for a few years, right? In big-time companies in which he's won championships, correct?"
Talon: "Big titles in big companies. Both you and I have been his partner for some of those conquests."
His lips are being tugged toward a smile but Zachariah just isn't the sort to let that happen. He holds up two fingers.
Zachariah Blood: "Double check. Are you seeing what I'm getting at here?"
Talon: "...why, you mean to tell me that Brody has every advantage in that regard? That he can look up tapes and read articles and know exactly what my Destroyer has done? That he could actually, honestly, prepare for what he's in for?"
It's a comically-demure gesture, Talon's hand going to her chest like that with her face awash in mock-surprised. Even Sentinel gets in on the goofiness for a moment, slapping his hand to his forehead with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face that's so overdone it's painful. He and Talon look at each other in shock, then at Blood...who sits there dead serious.
Talon: "SAY it isn't SO!"
Zachariah Blood: "It is so. Except..."
Talon: "...he'd rather spend his time shoving his two inches into some painted-up emo-virgin...the only kind of woman that's thick enough to accept and even welcome his advances. I'm neither impressed nor insulted by your frat boy antics, Brody. I'm just...bored. Every opportunity you have to make yourself ready for the slaughter this match will become is squandered because you have some kind of image you want to keep up.
Image isn't going to save you in this war, Brody. Neither is money. Have you ever crashed into the ring from eight feet in the air, having the wind knocked out of you, feeling like you're going to die right then and there? How many tables have you gone through in your career? How many chairs, kendo sticks or pipes have people bent across your skull? Have you ever tasted your own blood? Because that's what you're in for at Mayhem. But here's the saddest part of it all:"
Talon turns to Zachariah, who glares at the camera.
Zachariah Blood: "You had this coming even before you mouthed off about Talon."
Talon: "But, like me, he also considered the source. You took what you thought was the easiest path and ran down it. Maybe you thought an angry Destroyer would be easier to handle than a focused one. But I doubt you did any thinking at all where that's concerned. You're right, though. When it comes to dreams, Brody WAS in one of mine the other night."
Blood's eyes nearly pop out of his skull but Sentinel? He just smirks, his heavy arm going around Talon's shoulders and pulling her against him. She goes in willingly, once more snaking her limbs about his body.
Talon: "And when he's laying in a pool of his own blood Monday night, that'll be said dream come true."
He pauses, then Zachariah lifts his water to that. The others lift their glasses as well.
Zachariah Blood: "That interesting enough for you?
Fade to black.
- END -
