Post by Sentinel on Feb 17, 2014 10:59:34 GMT -6
- SCENE ONE -
LOCATION: Moby Arena, Fort Collins, CO - Trainer's Room
TIME: Monday, February 10th, 2014, 11:44pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Zachariah Blood, Lady Rayne, Talon, UWA Trainer Gerald Simms
Carnage had been wrought from top to bottom upon the UWA's second Mayhem broadcast. Threats, promises and assaults coupled with intense matches with six competitors looking to join one of their contemporaries in the main event of Tragic Engagement. And why not? To be known as the first-ever UWA World Heavyweight Champion is the kind of opportunity that doesn't come around often. Aerynn Donnelly battled through a game Jeszika Gautier despite being assaulted by Fabian Korentice earlier in the evening while Pauly O'Conner gutted out a win of his own to advance. As for the main event, you could hear the collective gasp when Sentinel put down Broderick Montgomery III to cement his own championship berth.
And then...someone simply couldn't hold their peace.
Flash-forward to about half an hour after the show had come to an end. The group collectively known as The Unforgiven were still in the trainer's room as one of the company's medical professionals looked over Zachariah Blood. Lady Rayne stood by, alternating between fury and concern while her charge remained surprisingly calm. Then again, he did have a far-away look in his eyes so perhaps he just wasn't awake enough to be a pain in the ass. Further back from that bed was Talon, standing behind her sister and also looking in on the examination of Zachariah. And what about Sentinel, some are asking at this point?
The big man was sitting in a chair nearby, a bandage over the wound given by Nick Daniels thanks to a wicked chair shot and having Brody dumped on top of him. He's not watching what's going on with his manager/partner, nor is his body language reflecting a state of pain. He's simply there, his gray eyes staring at the floor as he sits hunched over on the folding chair, his arms resting on his legs. The doctor looks up from his observations and centers on Rayne as he speaks.
Gerald Simms: "You're going to want to take him to the hospital and have them keep him overnight. It doesn't look as if that assault made things worse but concussions are tricky business."
Lady Rayne: "Are you sure that's absolutely necessary?"
Gerald Simms: "It's what I strongly recommend. I came to work for thsi company knowing what hard-heads you wrestling types are so I don't expect you to comply with that assessment. You'll do what you want to do in the end. But if any of you give a damn about your friend's health, you'll make him go to the hospital and stay there until they say he's well enough to leave."
Gerald, an older gentleman with gray hair but the body of a gym rat half his age, wiped his hands off on a disposable towel which he tossed in the wastebasket as he finished speaking. Across the bed from him, Rayne seemed at a loss, not used to this sort of candor from people addressing her. Talon couldn't hide her smirk but knew enough to try and settle Rayne before the force of the doctor's words sunk in. She rests a red-nailed hand on her sister's shoulder and speaks to Gerald in her place.
Talon: "We'll see to it that he does just that. Won't we, sister dear?"
Lady Rayne: "Y-Yeah, we will. No sense in being foolish."
Barely perceptible is the way Talon's grip tightened upon her sister when she hesitated to answer in the affirmative. Nodding to the two women, Gerald dares to look over at the Silent Destroyer. Sentinel hasn't moved since we saw him. Talon, following the trainer's gaze and then turning his way a second time, cants her head slighlty.
Talon: "...should Sentinel go as well?"
Mulling over that question for only a moment, Gerald shakes his head and turns to address Talon.
Gerald Simms: "No. Despite the shots he took, he'll be fine. I suspect his skull's probably made of rock or something because that Nick Daniels character made ME wince with that chair shot. I have SEEN some shit, ma'am, I kid you not...and that was a swing for the fences. I'm a little surprised that the big man there is even conscious."
Zachariah Blood: "Stubborn bastard's just showin' off..."
Sitting up slowly, Blood groans slightly as the blood starts flowing through his body proper again. Rayne pulls away from her older sister to assist him in his efforts but he tiredly waves her off and does it on his own, causing her to give him a reproving look.
Lady Rayne: "And what do you call this?"
Zachariah Blood: "Bein' me."
Gerald Simms: "Well, if you're awake, you heard what I said. Don't come crying to me if you ignore that advice and things get worse. As for the big guy..."
Knowing he's being spoken to and of, Sentinel focuses his death-filled gray eyes on the doctor. There's no flinching in Gerald as he stares back; he has sense enough to know that that look isn't directed at him.
Gerald Simms: "...just keep that wound clean and rest up for a day or two. You should be fine."
Inclining his chin in a gesture of understanding, Sentinel lowers his head again and reverts to his statue-like stillness. Gerald just shakes his head.
Gerald Simms: "He always like that?"
Talon: "About 99% of the time, yes."
She voices it in a humorous tone, yet there's nothing but fondness as Talon looks upon the Silent Destroyer. With his piece said, Gerald went on about his business while Blood finally accepted Rayne's help in getting off the table. The first few steps were tricky but he got on all right after his body started responding properly. As if in response, Sentinel rose as well and the group left the room. The view changes to one of the hallway, viewing the foursome from the front as they make their way out of the arena.
Lady Rayne: "So are you two going back to the hotel?"
Talon: "Yes. There's a few calls that need to be made before we leave town. Also, Zachariah, I'm going to step in this time for Sentinel. You focus on recovering and making sure that that arrogant child Nicholas Daniels didn't make your injury worse."
Zachariah Blood: "...sure, whatever."
It wasn't the response either Rayne or Talon expected, to be honest. Rayne was surprised that Zachariah didn't raise hell and Talon was just glad that she didn't have to talk him down as she'd counted on.
Lady Rayne: "We'll call you when things clear up."
Talon: "That's fine. We'll talk to you then."
Talon and Sentinel stop there as the others continue on, the former turning to the Destroyer and reaching up to peel back the bandage slightly, getting a look at the wound. Tender and nasty-looking to say the least, but nothing that wouldn't heal in time. She placed the bandage back in place and shook her head slowly.
Talon: "The coward...so eager for gold and prestige that he would assault you with impunity without so much as a word or reason beyond greed."
Sentinel's nod is slight. Talon takes his face into her hands, palms cupping his cheeks as she gazes up into his eyes.
Talon: "You will make him suffer, my love. You will make him pay."
The Destroyer's jaw sets tightly and his hands wrap into tight fists at his sides before he reaches up to lay his hands on Talon's. She smiles in response, a predatory smile.
Talon: "Yes, just like that. Be the hand that destroys."
We fade to black on this image.
- SCENE TWO -
LOCATION: I-80 W, near Salt Lake City, Utah
TIME: Thursday, February 13th, 2014, 9:29pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Talon, Faust
Night has long since fallen on the hypnotic asphalt path that is the interstate with only the on-rushing headlights from the other side of the path for company. Sitting behind the wheel, Sentinel has his stony eyes on the path ahead while in the passenger seat Talon is fiddling with her iPhone. Low, instrumental music is playing over the rental's sound system, something that hardly seems proper for driving at night after having been at it all day, but the Destroyer seems pretty alert despite it.
Talon sweeps through her contact list a time or two before finding the number she's looking for. There's some reluctance as she makes the call, a glance given Sentinel for some kind of assurance before the 'send' button is activated. Feeling her stare, Sentinel glances her way and his eyes alight on the phone. Nodding slowly, he turns back to the road as she sighs and sends out the call. There's several rings on the other end before a familiar voice answers.
Faust: "Ah, Miss Talon. I was not expecting a call from you just yet. Has something happened?"
Talon: "In a manner of speaking. I take it you've not seeing the goings-on that happened with our group as of late?"
Faust: "I have, actually. Am I take this conversation as an indicator that your Masochist took more damage than originally thought?"
He had been pleasant up until that point, but Faust's disdain for Zachariah was steadily becoming apparently and he either could not, or would not, do anything to mitigate it. Talon lets it slide for the time being as she responds.
Talon: "He has been strongly advised to avoid the action in and out of the ring for the time being to ensure his injuries weren't aggravated."
Faust: "I suppose it could not be avoided."
Talon: "It could have been, but some of us are slaves to our natures."
The faint edge to the Angel of Sin's voice caught Faust off-guard. There's silence for several seconds before he responds to her comment.
Faust: "He brought it on himself."
Talon: "Did that reasoning come from the Chosen One or from you, Faust?"
Faust: "This is neither the time nor place for such talk."
Talon: "That time WILL come soon, however. I am merely calling to inform you that until further notice I will serve in the capacity that I once did where my Destroyer is concerned. I trust this will not disrupt plans already in place?"
Faust: "No, it will not."
Talon: "Good. Then if there's nothing else..."
Another pregnant pause.
Faust: "Your defiance is noted, Talon. Do not let it reach a level where we have to act as we once did where your group is concerned. Standing up for your fellows is one thing but outright resistance against what has been ordained from on high may as well be suicide."
Talon: "Is that a threat, Faust?"
Faust: "Consider it a friendly warning."
Talon: "As you will, then."
She hangs up, managing to last until the call has ended before she snarls in frustration. The desire is there to roll down the window and chuck the phone out without a second thought but she reins herself in thankfully. Those things are expensive toys, after all. She turns to Sentinel, seeking peace in his silence. He gives her another glance when he feels her stare.
Talon: "Let's pull off for the night, baby. I could do with dinner and sleep in a proper bed."
Nodding, Sentinel changes lanes as an exit comes up, the last we see before another fade-out.
- SCENE THREE -
LOCATION: Undisclosed Location
TIME: Monday, February 17th, 2014, 10:07pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Talon
A tall, ornate chair resting at the head of a long banquet table...that particular section of table covered with crimson velvet accented by golden thread and lit by votive candles...a tall, arched window set within the wall in the background with rain and lightning beyond it. Such is what we are introduced to when the final scene begins. Someone is in that chair, cloaked in black velvet which is drawn back to reveal the face of Talon. Drawing back the silk-lined hood, she centers her acid-green gaze on us as she sits back comfortably in the chair with a content smile. From a cloth bag set upon the table she draws a stack of large cards which she begins to shuffle quietly, her eyes lowering to the task.
Heavy steps sound behind her, a shadow passing over the mostly-dark window and coming to a stop behind her chair. A second flash of lightning goes off, displaying well the silhouette of the Silent Destroyer. Powerful hands come to rest upon the shoulders of the Angel of Sin as she sets the neatly-arranged stack before her on the table before steepling her hands before her face. She considers what is before her, and who is behind her, before she begins to speak.
Talon: "For our kind, perpetually in the center of wars of intrigue and attrition over gold and other polished accolades, what transpired at Mayhem this past Monday is nothing new. Truth told, it's practically old hat. When you are possessed of the talent and prowess that we, The Unforgiven, encompass no matter where we ply our trade, you get used to finding yourself in these situations with alarming frequency. There is, in fact, but one difference between what happened at Mayhem and any other altercation of the same ilk we've faced down in our time together:
Impunity."
Talon holds up a single index finger, the nail lacquered in shiny black polish. Sentinel's hands grip her shoulders in a manner reminiscent of a massage. She smiles thinly at the gesture yet keeps her full attention the camera.
Talon: "The impunity of Paul O'Conner daring to believe that the second time around against my Destroyer would be any different than the first. The impunity of Aerynn Donnelly trying to make herself as some kind of wrestling iconoclast with her survivalist tendencies. The impunity of Nicholas Daniels and his painted-up gash believing that a backhanded assault somehow elevates him in the eyes of those who watch. Now, we shall be utterly fair and honest in our assessments, something that precious few in this business are capable of, much less willing to attempt.
All three of the aforementioned earned their spots in the Fatal Four-Way the same as my Destroyer. Such is not in question. Nor is the fact that all three bring something of note to the table, be it scrappiness, fortitude or viciousness. We applaud them for these positive traits, in fact. It is refreshing to know that when Sentinel steps into the ring come Tragic Engagement in Reno that he will indeed be facing three stalwart opponents who shall give him an impressive fight. But that, lady and gentlemen, is ALL you will have accomplished when the final bell tolls."
Thunder rattles the windows in the wake of further lightning which half-illuminates the face of the Silent Destroyer but briefly. His expression is a twisted snarl, emotionless eyes narrowed in the direction of camera. The image is gone almost as soon as it appears and Talon lowers her hand, beginning to set out cards in a distinct formation.
Talon: "O'Conner has already tasted defeat at my Destroyer's hands and there is nothing within his work after that match that leads us to believe that this one will be any different. A fighter by nature and a good enough soul he may be, but that isn't enough in a match of this magnitude. Inexperience kills regardless of where it is found. It causes numerically and technologically superior armies to fall before lesser forces on the fields of battle and it can cause the simplest of ailments to render a healthy-yet-simple man incommensurate. His willpower and never-say-die attitude are strong and on the streets from which he was bred they no doubt served him well.
Against Sentinel, they will only prolong the punishment before the inevitable sting of defeat is felt a second time. Paul, you've a long way to go before you're worthy of sharing the ring with the man behind me. You're not on his level yet and if you choose to ignore your shortcomings and pursue this facade of hope...that time my never come. My Destroyer, you see, is merciless when he finds himself confronted with close-minded sorts who refuse to understand. And of the three, you are perhaps the most ignorant though I sense your intent in refusing to change this is not malicious..."
Talon taps her crimson lips lightly as her other hand, the left, reaches up to clasp one of Sentinel's. She looks thoughtful as she speaks further.
Talon: "Do not speak to or of my Destroyer, child, as though you have some kind of high ground where he is concerned. Your first match notwithstanding, you made it a point to be ignorant of what you were walking into that night. Were you merely setting up an excuse in case you were throttled into oblivion like you were? Or was it just a case of hoping for the best but preparing for the worst? Either way, your comments toward my Destroyer are an insult when you try to put him in the same boat as the lout you squeaked past last Monday night.
A veteran is not merely a man who is well-traveled with many a year served in the ring. It is a man whose tenure is marked by scars that never heal, moments of brilliance and violence that are never forgotten and, of course, the alluring shine of gold. These are things my Destroyer has in ample supply. I say this again because I know that it must be reinforced to be put through your thick Irish skull: continuing to walk this path of fools will ensure that you never have the chance to become what Sentinel already is.
Dominant. Imposing. A name and visage that is feared. One that carries weight and respect."
She reaches out to caress the backs of the cards, contemplative yet somewhat amused.
Talon: "How sad that the man furthest from my Destroyer in nearly all ways comprising what a championship wrestler could be...is the only man in this company he current deems worthy of his respect. And the woman serving as his 'gal Friday' is in this upcoming match as well. Poor thing."
Talon laughs softly, a beautiful yet sinister sound almost drowned out by the rumbling thunder in the skies overhead. She teases turning over a card or two but does not reveal them just yet.
Talon: "One has to wonder just what, or if, she's thinking. So many irons on the fire, so many subtle plans and hidden orchestrations. How she can even focus upon her work in the ring is a small miracle. We, again, give her credit where it is due for her victories thus far. A homeless man and a tattooed lass who barely knows what she is, much less which way is up. Hardly the cream of the crop. The former, in fact, has made quite a show of knocking our dear Aerynn around. Perhaps, like her dear friend Paul, she thinks she has something to prove. To us it looks as if wrestling is a means to an end and not something she has fully given herself to.
Which, like Paul's own misguided comments, is an insult."
Her hand slams down upon the table, sending the candles to trembling, threatening to drip wax upon the pristine velvet which is now home to her arranged cards.
Talon: "You. Are. Not. Ready."
Each word is delivered firmly and clearly.
Talon: "Good fortune has left you with the ability to walk and talk like a human after weathering assaults over the last few weeks, little girl. Lady Luck sees you out of the corner of her eye and thus you find yourself in this match to determine a new champion. There is...no other reason fathomable that you should have such an opportunity. Toughness alone proves naught but either stubbornness or lack of aptitude. Or are you expecting your connects and storied, shall we say, history, to see you through this?
What you face this time, Aerynn, is beyond your ken. Accept that before the knowledge must be forced through your flesh like so many nails. Come forth and fight as your kind is wont to do. Just don't say you weren't warned. And...speaking of warnings..."
She lifts her hand and points right at the camera. In the moment that the name leaves her lips, Sentinel is again shown via the burst of electric energy streaking across the sky without. Smirk has replaced snark even before she addresses the final opponent.
Talon: "...you, Nicholas Daniels."
And she laughs, fully and without reservation. It's every bit as imposing as the thunder.
Talon: "If, in your blackened world, attacking your adversaries from behind and claiming yourself King of all the Lords Imperial is to ordain yourself as just that...I shudder to think just how deeply you'll be sliced when you crash through the looking glass into reality."
Talon cants her head just so, reaching up to tuck a blood-red strand behind her ear.
Talon: "Do you believe it so simple? I sat in wonderment, attempting to discern what could make you so unquestionably arrogant as to think such. Because you are undefeated here in the UWA? Because you have upwards of forty-some titles to your credit? Or because your little gash told you so after poking her head from beneath your soiled sheets? Please, Nicholas, deliver us from this wondering and regale us with the explanation of just why YOU, YOU who has yet to face an adversary the caliber of my Destroyer here, YOU who has proven ill-equipped to fight with honor, are the next UWA World Heavyweight Champion.
The Alpha Dog..."
Scoffing irritably, she makes an expression of wanting to spit out the words as though they tasted so sour on her tongue. But being a lady, she relents and instead sneers at the camera.
Talon: "You're a mongrel seeking an escape from your personal hell. You, like poor deluded Aerynn, use this business as the means to an end. Nothing you have done in this company has proven to us that you're anything more than an obstacle at best. A pair of victories notwithstanding, the only noteworthy act you've accomplished was your post-match assault and that...well, suffice to say that my Destroyer doesn't think very highly of you right now. I suppose the idea of fighting like a man instead of a drooling beast...attacking one's opponent head-on in case that euphimism slipped past you...is lost on someone who grew up in a wasteland.
My Destroyer can turn your entire world to a hell of that magnitude if he is so inclined, Nicholas. I wonder if your ego will be able to withstand the effects of seeing Sentinel raise that belt up high at the conclusion of your war. Unless there is far, far more to you than has been shown, I suspect that we'll all get to see just what effect loss will have upon you."
Sitting back with her hands upon the armrests, Talon regards the camera and the three opponents no doubt watching from the other side quietly.
Talon: "We shall...leave it at that. For now. We are eager to see the rest of you defend yourselves against these hard truths if that's even possible. If nothing else, it promises amusement before our thoughts turn to violence."
Fade to black.
- END -
