Post by Sentinel on Dec 4, 2015 10:14:36 GMT -6
The sun hasn't been up long enough to bother the frosting of white laid over every car, window and blade of grass this morning, yet the sky is already an impossibly beautiful blue. Cloudless and clear, the sort that would make one think of outdoor gatherings and the beauty of nature at its best. It would fit just as well in summer, yet for now it is merely a reminder of the warmer months lost and those yet to come. Still, there is beauty even in the chilly mountain air, and the cameraman takes this in as he turns on the device after getting out of his car. Standing in the driveway of the home of the UWA World Heavyweight Champion, in one of the much quieter parts of Valley Forge, he is surrounded by unspoiled wilderness. Within this, Sentinel has carved himself out a private slice of paradise.
With the first gleaming rays peeking up over the high treeline as the sun has finally risen high enough to be seen over the mountains, the cameraman makes his way as previously directed to the back yard of the property. We've been here many a time, and have seen the buliding out back just ahead of the path into the woods, the one that serves as a bit of retreat for the Destroyer. A light gleams at a low level from within and shadows move against the wall, just visible through the un-frosted glass. Already the man is up and about though what he's doing is a mystery for now. A hand reaches out, in sight of the camera and gloved in leather, knocking on the door leading within. It's barely a moment later that the muted impacts we hear beyond the portal stop and a firm voice responds.
Sentinel: "It's open!"
Letting himself in, the cameraman steadies the device on his shoulder, taking little time to center on the champion. Off in one corner of the building, set aside from all else in terms of space, is Sentinel. A 100-pound heavy bag is swaying from a reinforced chain and pulley attached to one of the ceiling beams, only being given a brief respite. The pause is long enough for Sentinel to incline his chin in a nod of welcome to the man before turning back to said bag and beating further hell out of it with taped fist. There isn't a particular rhyme or style to his blows...he's just kinda whaling away, catching the back on its backswing with stiff shots, sometimes throwing in an elbow, backhand or knee as the mood strikes. There's a certain amount of tension in the cameraman if the brief shake in the view is any indicator, but Sentinel doesn't notice.
Sentinel: "Are you early..."
The champion speaks between breaths, sweat running glistening paths down his muscular, shirtless torso in the moments when it isn't flying off due to more sudden motions.
Sentinel: "...or did I lose track of time?"
He turns slightly, staring at the cameraman out of the corner of his eye with a small smile to let the guy know it's cool to relax. We can't see it or feel it, but we can sense that the man does indeed chill a bit...and gratefully. Apparently, memories of Sentinel's words and actions of late are quite fresh. If only others had the sense to pay attention.
Cameraman: "It's...ah...about 8:10."
Sentinel: "Guess it's on me, then."
Shrugging and rolling his neck around in a full circle, resulting in a relief-inducing popping sound, Sentinel whips around and delivers a full-force Dead End to the bag at the upper-center of its girth. A loud creak of protest sounds from the beam to which the chain-laden pulley is attached and one could swear they heard the same from the steel itself.
Catching the bag upon its return with both hands, Sentinel lets the kinetic energy wear itself out until the bag only gently sways in the aftermath, turning to the cameraman fully.
Sentinel: "Give me about ten minutes to get ready. You're welcome to come in and get some coffee if you want. Gonna be a long day, after all."
Cameraman: "Are you sure that's okay? I mean, y'know, won't everyone else in there be sleeping?"
Everyone else being Talon and Cheyenne, that is, but Sentinel shakes his head with a certain amount of grimness in his eyes.
Sentinel: "Nah, they left last night to handle some...family business."
It wasn't an answer, but a statement and a warning wrapped up in one. The cameraman wouldn't have pushed the issue anyway but now he was even less likely.
Cameraman: "Well, in that case, sure."
The camera follows Sentinel as he grabs a towel off the nearby bench and walks past the camera and out into the cold morning air. If the chill bothered him, considering he was drenched with sweat at that moment, he didn't show it. Walked straight across the yard, up the steps to the deck and into the dining room through the sliding glass door with the cameraman following. He turns as both enter, the door shut behind the latter.
Sentinel: "Already brewed. I'll meet you out front."
Walking down the hallway just past the dining room, Sentinel is soon out of sight, leaving the cameraman to wonder aloud in a whispered voice.
Cameraman: "I hope this doesn't turn out to be a bad idea."
After a brief fade, the view it back at the driveway with the camera pointed at the front of the house. It's mere moments before Sentinel steps outside and locks the doors behind him, turning and heading toward the truck by which the cameraman stood. The lifted '78 Ford in eletric blue was the kind of ride that birthed terms about how they're not made like that anymore. Despite its age, it was well-kept and had obviously benefited from some body and engine work.
Sentinel gestured for his guest to get in the passenger side before getting in the driver's side himself. The engine, despite the cold, roared to life with ease. Getting the heat going, Sentinel set his hands on the wheel and stared at, obviously not through, the frost-coated glass. He seemed lost in thought.
Sentinel: "Sitting here, I'm not sure what possessed me to do this. Hell, I couldn't tell you if it's a good idea or not."
He laughed slightly, turning to the camera.
Sentinel: "You sure you wanna be around me all day? After all, I'm some kind of monster depending on who you listen to."
Cameraman: "I think the words you used were to the effect of 'giving them something to think about', them being your opponents."
Musing whilst not taking his eyes off the camera, Sentinel shrugged again.
Sentinel: "Yeah...something like that."
He took a pill bottle out of his jacket pocket and, popping off the cap, shook a few into his mouth. Taking a swig of his own coffee, brought along for the ride, Sentinel downed the tablets but said nothing about what they were or why they were taken. He pocketed the bottle and, satisfied that they could see well enough now, pulled out of the drive.
Cut to black, then back to the present a short time later and Sentinel is pulling the truck up in front of the furniture shop he'd been working on restoring over the last several weeks. Based on the outside appearance and the view within from the front windows, the place looked ready for business. Sentinel, perhaps unexpectedly, didn't get out of the truck. He just...stared. The camera, too, was turned to the store before it was directed at the champion again.
Cameraman: "Looks like it's really coming along. How much longer before it's open?"
Sentinel: "First Monday of the new year is what I'm aiming for. Should give me time to get back in the workshop and get my bearings. Depending on how things pan out in the near future, I'll be spending as much time here as I can."
Cameraman: "Is it fair to assume that your championship and the schedule that comes with it will play a part?"
Sentinel: "Yeah, but willingly, though I know some people are counting on me to drop the belt some time soon. Some very vocal people, in fact, who aren't keen on thinking before they speak. You know the type, right?"
Cameraman: "And how. Every family's got a few. Mine has more than its share."
Both men chuckle at that as Sentinel leans in on the steering wheel a bit, arms folded atop it.
Sentinel: "Yeah, well, you can ignore family and friends if you choose. I have to work with these people every few weeks. Couldn't ignore them if I wanted to and, to be honest, I don't want to. Their presence alone serves as an example to anyone with a shred of decency, including myself, of how not to be."
It's a sure bet that Sentinel is referring to people like his opponents this week, Danika Bayne and Ashley Kenyon, as well as the massive Cronos in the latter's employ.
Cameraman: "That's true from a certain perspective, but that brings up your response to Ashley Kenyon at the last Mayhem, doesn't it? Her threats toward you were at the very least subtle, but your retort..."
Sentinel's eyes avert from the shop to the camera and he grins slightly.
Sentinel: "Yeah, that was pretty harsh, wasn't it?"
Cameraman: "I'm not saying you were wrong, though..."
Was the nervousness surprising on the cameraman's part? Shouldn't have been. Lately, the Destroyer made everyone save the foolish plenty nervous.
Sentinel: "There's no right or wrong in this case, man. I said what I would do and I meant every word. When it comes to my family and friends, precious few of both that I still have, I can and will end a life to save or avenge theirs. It's nothing new to me. People know that, people like Ashley for instance, but they choose to ignore it because they think my trying to be a better person precludes doing right by my people and being a man of conviction. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it and it wouldn't be the last either. Whether I like it or not..."
His view shifts to the road ahead again, his stare narrowing.
Sentinel: "...death tends to follow me."
Cameraman: "So you'd really do it if it came to that?"
The champion's response is a brief cutting of his gaze toward the camera, calm and quiet. The issue is not pressed further, at least not directly. Putting the truck in gear, Sentinel pulls away from the shop and onto the main road out of town as the cameraman plucks up the courage to continue his quasi-interview in this 'day in the life' thing they've got going on.
Cameraman: "I'd think that Bethany hearing you say something like that would be upset. She's got her problems with Ashley, sure, but they're still blood. She's gotta be hoping her and her sister can patch things up at some point."
Sentinel: "And I hope that they manage that. I really do. Bethany has been put through hell for too long now, most if not all of it undeserved. She's on the short list of those friends that I'd fight and kill for, in fact, which I think she knows. Smart money says she's at least a little bit pissed at me for threatening Ashley but like I told little sister and her attack dog last time, they set the terms. You don't get to throw down as if you're hard and then back off when it gets too hot. That's not how it works in the real world. There's not enough apologies or changes of heart on the planet that'll take Ashley off my list now. If Ashley knew me as well as she implies that she does, she'd have kept her mouth shut and spared herself these darker possibilities and guarantees.
Thing is, those words probably didn't even register with Ashley. Why I can't imagine because everyone and their mother saw clear as day what happened between me and Benny months ago. I'm still wearing the scar I got, as is Talon, while that bald-headed Yakuza-wannabe is wearing his best black suit under six feet of dirt. Did she think that that was just me putting on a show for the sake of ratings? If she did, she's goddamn thick. I've put my demons on display more than once, educating the fans and especially the people in the locker room about just who they're dealing with when they're name's across from mine on the card. I have nothing to hide. Yet she steps into the ring and calls me out with all that crap she spewed on the Mayhem before like she's letting a pack of cats out of the bag. Fuckin' silly bitch."
There's quiet for a few long moments before the cameraman pipes up again. The scenery steadily grows more sparse.
Cameraman: "So...where to?"
The champion exhales a shortly-held breath.
Sentinel: "Knoxville. Doctor wants another look inside my head."
Cameraman: "Another?"
Sentinel: "Had an appointment earlier this week. Been having them every few months since I came back from a Children-induced concussion back in the day. Checking for post-concussion symptoms and all that. He says he 'found something' but wouldn't tell me what over the phone."
Cameraman: "Here's hoping it isn't anything serious, then."
The Destroyer snorts out a laugh, eyes staying on the road as he gets onto the Interstate.
Sentinel: "That ain't my kind of luck."
We see them again after another pause, or to be more specific we see the front of the office where Sentinel is set to have the aforementioned appointment. The sign out front is blurred for obvious reasons, naturally, and quite thankfully the weather is still lovely this day. Without a doubt there's still a bite to the winter breeze, but the brightness of the sun offers a modicum of solace from that chill. We're not waiting long before Sentinel comes walking out of the building with a very neutral expression. Almost immediately he slides on his shades, heading toward the camera and the truck behind the man shouldering it.
Cameraman: "Any news?"
Sentinel: "Guess you could call it that."
If the forced expression of calm and low tone of voice didn't say it clearly, it's hard to imagine what it would take. The mood is considerably lower than it had been as Sentinel gets into the truck, the cameraman following suit. They're on the road again for a while before Sentinel speaks again, the cameraman seeming to think better of interrupting his contemplation. Thankfully some good editing keeps us from dealing with an hour of silent driving.
Sentinel: "Did some more thinking while they had me stuffed in a tube, electronically picking my brain."
The way the line is delivered and the odd smile on Sentinel's face elicits a welcome bit of laughter from the cameraman, immediately lightening the mood slightly.
Cameraman: "Yeah? About what?"
Sentinel: "Bethany."
The cameraman says nothing, letting the champ continue at his own pace.
Sentinel: "I just really feel for her right now is all. Teaming up with a lunatic to take on two other lunatics."
Both of them chuckle at that one before Sentinel quickly regains his composure.
Sentinel: "Jokes aside, this is already a difficult time for her and I haven't made it any easier. If you can believe it, I've been avoiding getting in touch with her over the last week. Not sure if that's my attempt to give her space and time to chill if she needs it...or if I just know deep down that the conversation wouldn't end well."
Cameraman: "I bet she understands, though."
Sentinel: "Understanding doesn't mean someone's happy about a shitty situation. It just means they see all the sides."
Cameraman: "Well, how do you think Ashley is taking things, then?"
His expression tenses slightly out of a mixture of irritation and amusement. Shifting his gray eyes in the camera's direction before they flick back to the road ahead, Sentinel responds curtly.
Sentinel: "I couldn't give less of a damn. Everything that needs to be said to or about Ashley by me has been said already. By the time our match rolls around or, to be more specific, my match versus Cronos...there'll be plenty more to talk about. Right now? I'm content to let her keep verbally digging her own damn grave, pun fully intended. How does she feel? Invincible, I'm guessing. Denial is an ugly thing."
Cameraman: "You know good and well no matter who you take on for the title the other one will be up close and personal. It'll be a glorified two-on-one match."
Sentinel: "Been there, done that."
Cameraman: "Are you sure you're not being too blase about the situation?"
Sentinel: "Maybe, maybe not."
From his pocket he retrieves the pill bottle again, taking another couple with the benefit of some coffee still in his mug before setting the latter back down.
Sentinel: "That match is over a month in coming. This week it's her and Danika versus myself and Bethany. I'm of the mind that sitting back and letting her work herself up for the next several weeks is the best idea. What more needs to be said from my end, anyway?"
The cameraman doesn't have an immediate response to that and we cut ahead again, this time to the two of them sitting down in a restaurant. Presumably, by the look of the darkened sky outside, they're back in Valley Forge in the evening hours. Sentinel is nursing a glass of water across the table from the cameraman, looking thoughtful at the newest query from the recorder.
Cameraman: "So, what about Danika, then? First time you've faced off with her, isn't it?"
Sentinel: "Sure is."
Cameraman: "What's your thoughts? Seems like your paths are going to cross more and more considering this Dean guy and his relationship to your friend Eric."
Thoughtfully considering those words, Sentinel gives it a minute before he answers.
Sentinel: "It's pretty simple. She runs with the Children of Nephilim, following a false idol while trying to take the place of someone irreplacable. She's a capable wrestler and throws a hell of a punch from what I've seen. And, of course, she's Dean's shrink or whatever you wanna call it."
Cameraman: "Yeah, basically. And?"
Sentinel: "That's all I need to know."
Cameraman: "You don't think that's a narrow view to take on someone many consider to be very dangerous?"
Sipping his water, Sentinel answers rather calmly...perhaps TOO calmly.
Sentinel: "These days, man, I keep to my own business as much as possible. To me, she's just another opponent. No more, no less."
Cameraman: "You did kinda declare war on her and the Children a while back. I'm betting she remembers that and might be looking to make you regret doing so."
The champion affects a confused expression.
Sentinel: "I did what now?"
Cameraman: "...wait, what?"
One might have expected a laugh and a nudge from Sentinel on this but...his confusion is genuine. He rubs the back of his head, racking his brain to try and recall those words and actions, yet nothing comes.
Sentinel: "...I don't know what you're talking about."
When the punchline that isn't coming...doesn't...the cameraman's nervousness kicks up again. He quickly diverts the topic on reflex.
Cameraman: "Well, ah, anyway...I'm just saying that there's probably a lot to Danika that people don't know yet. Anyone who has the favor of Michael Rivers is on that same boat, y'know?"
Shaking off the clouds in his mind, Sentinel nods a little.
Sentinel: "I keep to my own business where all that's concerned. Everyone in Rivers' little entourage can get it done in the ring, whether you're talking about Maiko, the twins, Danika or the man himself. You'd have to be stupid not to recognize that. But it would be equally stupid to worry myself over whether she's holding anything back or has some kind of master plan coming up for Mayhem. Seriously...I know what I need to know about her already. I can take whatever she can dish out and give it back twice as good."
Cameraman: "If almost anyone else said that, they'd be called arrogant."
Now the champ is grinning again, albeit slightly. The arrival of the food is barely noticed by him...
Sentinel: "No one else is the World Heavyweight Champion, my man. That allows a certain amount of arrogance."
Cameraman: "What if her side wins?"
Sentinel: "You can bet your ass it won't happen clean if it does."
...but no red-blooded American can ignore a big steak for that long. There's a shift ahead while the two tear into the grilled slabs of beef, the view returning back at Sentinel's place later in the evening. The sky is utterly black now and with it comes the same hard cold that was felt earlier in the light of morning. Now as with then, the weather doesn't bother the Destroyer one iota. As the camera is kicked on again, Sentinel is in the process of putting that pill bottle back in his pocket for, in terms of what's been seen, the third time today.
Cameraman: "Okay, I gotta ask...what are those?"
Sentinel: "Hm?"
Realizing what's being referred to, Sentinel shrugs a little.
Sentinel: "Let's just say that they're what's making today possible and leave it at that."
The way he said it, while not harsh or even that firm, made it clear that Sentinel wasn't going to explain further.
Cameraman: "Right. Well, you made your thoughts pretty clear on Ashley..."
Sentinel: "To everyone except for her, I'd wager."
Cameraman: "...as well as Danika..."
Sentinel: "I'm sure she'll have plenty to say in response."
Cameraman: "...so what now?"
Musing, a hand going up to stroke his bearded chin, Sentinel stares into the near-black tree line and considers for several long moments before responding.
Sentinel: "What else can be said? I'm fine at this point with having Bethany say her piece and letting the other two lip off to their heart's content. Am I supposed to hurl out insults and threats, giving them all kinds of bait to bite down on? No thanks."
Cameraman: "That's a lot different from your usual approach as of late, champ. I don't mean that to sound negative, naturally..."
One gets the feeling that the cameraman regretted saying what he did before it was done leaving his lips but had no choice other than to press on. Luckily for him depending on your perspective, Sentinel's reaction was one of amusement more than anything else.
Sentinel: "I guess so. Maybe I'm just starting to think that it's time to return to what once was...letting my actions alone speak for me."
Cameraman: "You really think so?"
Sentinel: "Once upon a time that was all it took. Showing an opponent the blood of the company's champion still staining my hands hours after the fact worked better than any insult. Letting the sight of my enemy leaving the ring on a stretcher hang in the next one's mind won half the battle for me. That's one thing I'll hand to Ashley in terms of getting it right: things were simpler when my task was solely to go to that ring and beat someone's ass. Arrive, raise hell, leave. I'm pretty sure I once saw a shirt that said that somewhere..."
He thinks for a moment, then shrugs the thought off.
Sentinel: "It's a lot like crumpling up a sheet of paper, though. Once you do it, that paper will never be perfect again. Speaking for myself again was a sign, to me and those close to me, that I'd atoned for a crime that haunted me more than half my life. It meant I'd finally allowed myself to move on. But now? People put too much stock in my words and not enough in the damage I deal between the ropes. They ignore what was once painfully, pun intended again, obvious and focus instead on something as ephemeral as words. It's like...like they think my saying I'm going to do something makes it less likely that I will or something."
Cameraman: "Maybe because once upon a time they had no idea what would happen because you were such a blank slate even with Zachariah or Talon talking for you."
Sentinel: "Maybe. People like Ashley who are motivated by anger and vendettas, as well as Danika who require a source for their faith and devotion without giving thought one to its veracity, they like to use one's words against them. It helps that both can kick ass in the ring but when you let them get in your head...it's hard to get them out. That's what they count on, in fact. Especially Ashley.
But they're not in mine. If they got within inches of the horrors up here..."
He taps his index finger to his temple with a shadow of a smile.
Sentinel: "...it'd make their worst nightmares look like a Disney flick. I'm not in their heads either because, honestly, I don't need to be. If the title around my waist or the path of destruction behind me don't show what I'm made of then nothing I say will change that. But what I DO? THAT will change their perceptions plenty."
Cameraman: "Do I even need to ask what you're going to do?"
The champion smirks. It isn't a Donavan-level smirk by any stretch but it does the job.
Sentinel: "Since more yammering is what they're expecting...maybe go off yet again about how Bethany and I are undefeated as a team while on the other side of us are a pair of opportunists? Or maybe I'll talk about how it's champions versus a former-champion and not-yet-champion? I could probably get away with going back on my word from a couple minutes ago, putting on a mean face and calling them dirty names..."
Time to go from smirk to glower: 0.6 seconds.
Sentinel: "...but I won't be doing any of the above."
To the cameraman's relief, Sentinel turns back to the darkened view. Sentinel's tone is low and foreboding.
Sentinel: "You want to know what I'm gonna do? Watch Monday Night Mayhem and make note of how those two girls look before and after the match. That will be your answer. Keep the same attention reserved for their hired help while you're at it, too, because I have plenty of destruction to go around.
Day's been real, man. I think you know the way out."
Only at the end does his tone lighten, and only slightly and for the cameraman's benefit. There's no response from the latter, who takes his leave calmly. Sentinel, however, remains where he is. Reaching into his pocket again he takes out not the pills but his black ocarina. Putting it to his lips, he plays a haunting, soulful tune as the scene fades to black from the door leading into the house.
With the first gleaming rays peeking up over the high treeline as the sun has finally risen high enough to be seen over the mountains, the cameraman makes his way as previously directed to the back yard of the property. We've been here many a time, and have seen the buliding out back just ahead of the path into the woods, the one that serves as a bit of retreat for the Destroyer. A light gleams at a low level from within and shadows move against the wall, just visible through the un-frosted glass. Already the man is up and about though what he's doing is a mystery for now. A hand reaches out, in sight of the camera and gloved in leather, knocking on the door leading within. It's barely a moment later that the muted impacts we hear beyond the portal stop and a firm voice responds.
Sentinel: "It's open!"
Letting himself in, the cameraman steadies the device on his shoulder, taking little time to center on the champion. Off in one corner of the building, set aside from all else in terms of space, is Sentinel. A 100-pound heavy bag is swaying from a reinforced chain and pulley attached to one of the ceiling beams, only being given a brief respite. The pause is long enough for Sentinel to incline his chin in a nod of welcome to the man before turning back to said bag and beating further hell out of it with taped fist. There isn't a particular rhyme or style to his blows...he's just kinda whaling away, catching the back on its backswing with stiff shots, sometimes throwing in an elbow, backhand or knee as the mood strikes. There's a certain amount of tension in the cameraman if the brief shake in the view is any indicator, but Sentinel doesn't notice.
Sentinel: "Are you early..."
The champion speaks between breaths, sweat running glistening paths down his muscular, shirtless torso in the moments when it isn't flying off due to more sudden motions.
Sentinel: "...or did I lose track of time?"
He turns slightly, staring at the cameraman out of the corner of his eye with a small smile to let the guy know it's cool to relax. We can't see it or feel it, but we can sense that the man does indeed chill a bit...and gratefully. Apparently, memories of Sentinel's words and actions of late are quite fresh. If only others had the sense to pay attention.
Cameraman: "It's...ah...about 8:10."
Sentinel: "Guess it's on me, then."
Shrugging and rolling his neck around in a full circle, resulting in a relief-inducing popping sound, Sentinel whips around and delivers a full-force Dead End to the bag at the upper-center of its girth. A loud creak of protest sounds from the beam to which the chain-laden pulley is attached and one could swear they heard the same from the steel itself.
Catching the bag upon its return with both hands, Sentinel lets the kinetic energy wear itself out until the bag only gently sways in the aftermath, turning to the cameraman fully.
Sentinel: "Give me about ten minutes to get ready. You're welcome to come in and get some coffee if you want. Gonna be a long day, after all."
Cameraman: "Are you sure that's okay? I mean, y'know, won't everyone else in there be sleeping?"
Everyone else being Talon and Cheyenne, that is, but Sentinel shakes his head with a certain amount of grimness in his eyes.
Sentinel: "Nah, they left last night to handle some...family business."
It wasn't an answer, but a statement and a warning wrapped up in one. The cameraman wouldn't have pushed the issue anyway but now he was even less likely.
Cameraman: "Well, in that case, sure."
The camera follows Sentinel as he grabs a towel off the nearby bench and walks past the camera and out into the cold morning air. If the chill bothered him, considering he was drenched with sweat at that moment, he didn't show it. Walked straight across the yard, up the steps to the deck and into the dining room through the sliding glass door with the cameraman following. He turns as both enter, the door shut behind the latter.
Sentinel: "Already brewed. I'll meet you out front."
Walking down the hallway just past the dining room, Sentinel is soon out of sight, leaving the cameraman to wonder aloud in a whispered voice.
Cameraman: "I hope this doesn't turn out to be a bad idea."
After a brief fade, the view it back at the driveway with the camera pointed at the front of the house. It's mere moments before Sentinel steps outside and locks the doors behind him, turning and heading toward the truck by which the cameraman stood. The lifted '78 Ford in eletric blue was the kind of ride that birthed terms about how they're not made like that anymore. Despite its age, it was well-kept and had obviously benefited from some body and engine work.
Sentinel gestured for his guest to get in the passenger side before getting in the driver's side himself. The engine, despite the cold, roared to life with ease. Getting the heat going, Sentinel set his hands on the wheel and stared at, obviously not through, the frost-coated glass. He seemed lost in thought.
Sentinel: "Sitting here, I'm not sure what possessed me to do this. Hell, I couldn't tell you if it's a good idea or not."
He laughed slightly, turning to the camera.
Sentinel: "You sure you wanna be around me all day? After all, I'm some kind of monster depending on who you listen to."
Cameraman: "I think the words you used were to the effect of 'giving them something to think about', them being your opponents."
Musing whilst not taking his eyes off the camera, Sentinel shrugged again.
Sentinel: "Yeah...something like that."
He took a pill bottle out of his jacket pocket and, popping off the cap, shook a few into his mouth. Taking a swig of his own coffee, brought along for the ride, Sentinel downed the tablets but said nothing about what they were or why they were taken. He pocketed the bottle and, satisfied that they could see well enough now, pulled out of the drive.
Cut to black, then back to the present a short time later and Sentinel is pulling the truck up in front of the furniture shop he'd been working on restoring over the last several weeks. Based on the outside appearance and the view within from the front windows, the place looked ready for business. Sentinel, perhaps unexpectedly, didn't get out of the truck. He just...stared. The camera, too, was turned to the store before it was directed at the champion again.
Cameraman: "Looks like it's really coming along. How much longer before it's open?"
Sentinel: "First Monday of the new year is what I'm aiming for. Should give me time to get back in the workshop and get my bearings. Depending on how things pan out in the near future, I'll be spending as much time here as I can."
Cameraman: "Is it fair to assume that your championship and the schedule that comes with it will play a part?"
Sentinel: "Yeah, but willingly, though I know some people are counting on me to drop the belt some time soon. Some very vocal people, in fact, who aren't keen on thinking before they speak. You know the type, right?"
Cameraman: "And how. Every family's got a few. Mine has more than its share."
Both men chuckle at that as Sentinel leans in on the steering wheel a bit, arms folded atop it.
Sentinel: "Yeah, well, you can ignore family and friends if you choose. I have to work with these people every few weeks. Couldn't ignore them if I wanted to and, to be honest, I don't want to. Their presence alone serves as an example to anyone with a shred of decency, including myself, of how not to be."
It's a sure bet that Sentinel is referring to people like his opponents this week, Danika Bayne and Ashley Kenyon, as well as the massive Cronos in the latter's employ.
Cameraman: "That's true from a certain perspective, but that brings up your response to Ashley Kenyon at the last Mayhem, doesn't it? Her threats toward you were at the very least subtle, but your retort..."
Sentinel's eyes avert from the shop to the camera and he grins slightly.
Sentinel: "Yeah, that was pretty harsh, wasn't it?"
Cameraman: "I'm not saying you were wrong, though..."
Was the nervousness surprising on the cameraman's part? Shouldn't have been. Lately, the Destroyer made everyone save the foolish plenty nervous.
Sentinel: "There's no right or wrong in this case, man. I said what I would do and I meant every word. When it comes to my family and friends, precious few of both that I still have, I can and will end a life to save or avenge theirs. It's nothing new to me. People know that, people like Ashley for instance, but they choose to ignore it because they think my trying to be a better person precludes doing right by my people and being a man of conviction. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it and it wouldn't be the last either. Whether I like it or not..."
His view shifts to the road ahead again, his stare narrowing.
Sentinel: "...death tends to follow me."
Cameraman: "So you'd really do it if it came to that?"
The champion's response is a brief cutting of his gaze toward the camera, calm and quiet. The issue is not pressed further, at least not directly. Putting the truck in gear, Sentinel pulls away from the shop and onto the main road out of town as the cameraman plucks up the courage to continue his quasi-interview in this 'day in the life' thing they've got going on.
Cameraman: "I'd think that Bethany hearing you say something like that would be upset. She's got her problems with Ashley, sure, but they're still blood. She's gotta be hoping her and her sister can patch things up at some point."
Sentinel: "And I hope that they manage that. I really do. Bethany has been put through hell for too long now, most if not all of it undeserved. She's on the short list of those friends that I'd fight and kill for, in fact, which I think she knows. Smart money says she's at least a little bit pissed at me for threatening Ashley but like I told little sister and her attack dog last time, they set the terms. You don't get to throw down as if you're hard and then back off when it gets too hot. That's not how it works in the real world. There's not enough apologies or changes of heart on the planet that'll take Ashley off my list now. If Ashley knew me as well as she implies that she does, she'd have kept her mouth shut and spared herself these darker possibilities and guarantees.
Thing is, those words probably didn't even register with Ashley. Why I can't imagine because everyone and their mother saw clear as day what happened between me and Benny months ago. I'm still wearing the scar I got, as is Talon, while that bald-headed Yakuza-wannabe is wearing his best black suit under six feet of dirt. Did she think that that was just me putting on a show for the sake of ratings? If she did, she's goddamn thick. I've put my demons on display more than once, educating the fans and especially the people in the locker room about just who they're dealing with when they're name's across from mine on the card. I have nothing to hide. Yet she steps into the ring and calls me out with all that crap she spewed on the Mayhem before like she's letting a pack of cats out of the bag. Fuckin' silly bitch."
There's quiet for a few long moments before the cameraman pipes up again. The scenery steadily grows more sparse.
Cameraman: "So...where to?"
The champion exhales a shortly-held breath.
Sentinel: "Knoxville. Doctor wants another look inside my head."
Cameraman: "Another?"
Sentinel: "Had an appointment earlier this week. Been having them every few months since I came back from a Children-induced concussion back in the day. Checking for post-concussion symptoms and all that. He says he 'found something' but wouldn't tell me what over the phone."
Cameraman: "Here's hoping it isn't anything serious, then."
The Destroyer snorts out a laugh, eyes staying on the road as he gets onto the Interstate.
Sentinel: "That ain't my kind of luck."
We see them again after another pause, or to be more specific we see the front of the office where Sentinel is set to have the aforementioned appointment. The sign out front is blurred for obvious reasons, naturally, and quite thankfully the weather is still lovely this day. Without a doubt there's still a bite to the winter breeze, but the brightness of the sun offers a modicum of solace from that chill. We're not waiting long before Sentinel comes walking out of the building with a very neutral expression. Almost immediately he slides on his shades, heading toward the camera and the truck behind the man shouldering it.
Cameraman: "Any news?"
Sentinel: "Guess you could call it that."
If the forced expression of calm and low tone of voice didn't say it clearly, it's hard to imagine what it would take. The mood is considerably lower than it had been as Sentinel gets into the truck, the cameraman following suit. They're on the road again for a while before Sentinel speaks again, the cameraman seeming to think better of interrupting his contemplation. Thankfully some good editing keeps us from dealing with an hour of silent driving.
Sentinel: "Did some more thinking while they had me stuffed in a tube, electronically picking my brain."
The way the line is delivered and the odd smile on Sentinel's face elicits a welcome bit of laughter from the cameraman, immediately lightening the mood slightly.
Cameraman: "Yeah? About what?"
Sentinel: "Bethany."
The cameraman says nothing, letting the champ continue at his own pace.
Sentinel: "I just really feel for her right now is all. Teaming up with a lunatic to take on two other lunatics."
Both of them chuckle at that one before Sentinel quickly regains his composure.
Sentinel: "Jokes aside, this is already a difficult time for her and I haven't made it any easier. If you can believe it, I've been avoiding getting in touch with her over the last week. Not sure if that's my attempt to give her space and time to chill if she needs it...or if I just know deep down that the conversation wouldn't end well."
Cameraman: "I bet she understands, though."
Sentinel: "Understanding doesn't mean someone's happy about a shitty situation. It just means they see all the sides."
Cameraman: "Well, how do you think Ashley is taking things, then?"
His expression tenses slightly out of a mixture of irritation and amusement. Shifting his gray eyes in the camera's direction before they flick back to the road ahead, Sentinel responds curtly.
Sentinel: "I couldn't give less of a damn. Everything that needs to be said to or about Ashley by me has been said already. By the time our match rolls around or, to be more specific, my match versus Cronos...there'll be plenty more to talk about. Right now? I'm content to let her keep verbally digging her own damn grave, pun fully intended. How does she feel? Invincible, I'm guessing. Denial is an ugly thing."
Cameraman: "You know good and well no matter who you take on for the title the other one will be up close and personal. It'll be a glorified two-on-one match."
Sentinel: "Been there, done that."
Cameraman: "Are you sure you're not being too blase about the situation?"
Sentinel: "Maybe, maybe not."
From his pocket he retrieves the pill bottle again, taking another couple with the benefit of some coffee still in his mug before setting the latter back down.
Sentinel: "That match is over a month in coming. This week it's her and Danika versus myself and Bethany. I'm of the mind that sitting back and letting her work herself up for the next several weeks is the best idea. What more needs to be said from my end, anyway?"
The cameraman doesn't have an immediate response to that and we cut ahead again, this time to the two of them sitting down in a restaurant. Presumably, by the look of the darkened sky outside, they're back in Valley Forge in the evening hours. Sentinel is nursing a glass of water across the table from the cameraman, looking thoughtful at the newest query from the recorder.
Cameraman: "So, what about Danika, then? First time you've faced off with her, isn't it?"
Sentinel: "Sure is."
Cameraman: "What's your thoughts? Seems like your paths are going to cross more and more considering this Dean guy and his relationship to your friend Eric."
Thoughtfully considering those words, Sentinel gives it a minute before he answers.
Sentinel: "It's pretty simple. She runs with the Children of Nephilim, following a false idol while trying to take the place of someone irreplacable. She's a capable wrestler and throws a hell of a punch from what I've seen. And, of course, she's Dean's shrink or whatever you wanna call it."
Cameraman: "Yeah, basically. And?"
Sentinel: "That's all I need to know."
Cameraman: "You don't think that's a narrow view to take on someone many consider to be very dangerous?"
Sipping his water, Sentinel answers rather calmly...perhaps TOO calmly.
Sentinel: "These days, man, I keep to my own business as much as possible. To me, she's just another opponent. No more, no less."
Cameraman: "You did kinda declare war on her and the Children a while back. I'm betting she remembers that and might be looking to make you regret doing so."
The champion affects a confused expression.
Sentinel: "I did what now?"
Cameraman: "...wait, what?"
One might have expected a laugh and a nudge from Sentinel on this but...his confusion is genuine. He rubs the back of his head, racking his brain to try and recall those words and actions, yet nothing comes.
Sentinel: "...I don't know what you're talking about."
When the punchline that isn't coming...doesn't...the cameraman's nervousness kicks up again. He quickly diverts the topic on reflex.
Cameraman: "Well, ah, anyway...I'm just saying that there's probably a lot to Danika that people don't know yet. Anyone who has the favor of Michael Rivers is on that same boat, y'know?"
Shaking off the clouds in his mind, Sentinel nods a little.
Sentinel: "I keep to my own business where all that's concerned. Everyone in Rivers' little entourage can get it done in the ring, whether you're talking about Maiko, the twins, Danika or the man himself. You'd have to be stupid not to recognize that. But it would be equally stupid to worry myself over whether she's holding anything back or has some kind of master plan coming up for Mayhem. Seriously...I know what I need to know about her already. I can take whatever she can dish out and give it back twice as good."
Cameraman: "If almost anyone else said that, they'd be called arrogant."
Now the champ is grinning again, albeit slightly. The arrival of the food is barely noticed by him...
Sentinel: "No one else is the World Heavyweight Champion, my man. That allows a certain amount of arrogance."
Cameraman: "What if her side wins?"
Sentinel: "You can bet your ass it won't happen clean if it does."
...but no red-blooded American can ignore a big steak for that long. There's a shift ahead while the two tear into the grilled slabs of beef, the view returning back at Sentinel's place later in the evening. The sky is utterly black now and with it comes the same hard cold that was felt earlier in the light of morning. Now as with then, the weather doesn't bother the Destroyer one iota. As the camera is kicked on again, Sentinel is in the process of putting that pill bottle back in his pocket for, in terms of what's been seen, the third time today.
Cameraman: "Okay, I gotta ask...what are those?"
Sentinel: "Hm?"
Realizing what's being referred to, Sentinel shrugs a little.
Sentinel: "Let's just say that they're what's making today possible and leave it at that."
The way he said it, while not harsh or even that firm, made it clear that Sentinel wasn't going to explain further.
Cameraman: "Right. Well, you made your thoughts pretty clear on Ashley..."
Sentinel: "To everyone except for her, I'd wager."
Cameraman: "...as well as Danika..."
Sentinel: "I'm sure she'll have plenty to say in response."
Cameraman: "...so what now?"
Musing, a hand going up to stroke his bearded chin, Sentinel stares into the near-black tree line and considers for several long moments before responding.
Sentinel: "What else can be said? I'm fine at this point with having Bethany say her piece and letting the other two lip off to their heart's content. Am I supposed to hurl out insults and threats, giving them all kinds of bait to bite down on? No thanks."
Cameraman: "That's a lot different from your usual approach as of late, champ. I don't mean that to sound negative, naturally..."
One gets the feeling that the cameraman regretted saying what he did before it was done leaving his lips but had no choice other than to press on. Luckily for him depending on your perspective, Sentinel's reaction was one of amusement more than anything else.
Sentinel: "I guess so. Maybe I'm just starting to think that it's time to return to what once was...letting my actions alone speak for me."
Cameraman: "You really think so?"
Sentinel: "Once upon a time that was all it took. Showing an opponent the blood of the company's champion still staining my hands hours after the fact worked better than any insult. Letting the sight of my enemy leaving the ring on a stretcher hang in the next one's mind won half the battle for me. That's one thing I'll hand to Ashley in terms of getting it right: things were simpler when my task was solely to go to that ring and beat someone's ass. Arrive, raise hell, leave. I'm pretty sure I once saw a shirt that said that somewhere..."
He thinks for a moment, then shrugs the thought off.
Sentinel: "It's a lot like crumpling up a sheet of paper, though. Once you do it, that paper will never be perfect again. Speaking for myself again was a sign, to me and those close to me, that I'd atoned for a crime that haunted me more than half my life. It meant I'd finally allowed myself to move on. But now? People put too much stock in my words and not enough in the damage I deal between the ropes. They ignore what was once painfully, pun intended again, obvious and focus instead on something as ephemeral as words. It's like...like they think my saying I'm going to do something makes it less likely that I will or something."
Cameraman: "Maybe because once upon a time they had no idea what would happen because you were such a blank slate even with Zachariah or Talon talking for you."
Sentinel: "Maybe. People like Ashley who are motivated by anger and vendettas, as well as Danika who require a source for their faith and devotion without giving thought one to its veracity, they like to use one's words against them. It helps that both can kick ass in the ring but when you let them get in your head...it's hard to get them out. That's what they count on, in fact. Especially Ashley.
But they're not in mine. If they got within inches of the horrors up here..."
He taps his index finger to his temple with a shadow of a smile.
Sentinel: "...it'd make their worst nightmares look like a Disney flick. I'm not in their heads either because, honestly, I don't need to be. If the title around my waist or the path of destruction behind me don't show what I'm made of then nothing I say will change that. But what I DO? THAT will change their perceptions plenty."
Cameraman: "Do I even need to ask what you're going to do?"
The champion smirks. It isn't a Donavan-level smirk by any stretch but it does the job.
Sentinel: "Since more yammering is what they're expecting...maybe go off yet again about how Bethany and I are undefeated as a team while on the other side of us are a pair of opportunists? Or maybe I'll talk about how it's champions versus a former-champion and not-yet-champion? I could probably get away with going back on my word from a couple minutes ago, putting on a mean face and calling them dirty names..."
Time to go from smirk to glower: 0.6 seconds.
Sentinel: "...but I won't be doing any of the above."
To the cameraman's relief, Sentinel turns back to the darkened view. Sentinel's tone is low and foreboding.
Sentinel: "You want to know what I'm gonna do? Watch Monday Night Mayhem and make note of how those two girls look before and after the match. That will be your answer. Keep the same attention reserved for their hired help while you're at it, too, because I have plenty of destruction to go around.
Day's been real, man. I think you know the way out."
Only at the end does his tone lighten, and only slightly and for the cameraman's benefit. There's no response from the latter, who takes his leave calmly. Sentinel, however, remains where he is. Reaching into his pocket again he takes out not the pills but his black ocarina. Putting it to his lips, he plays a haunting, soulful tune as the scene fades to black from the door leading into the house.
