Post by Sentinel on Feb 20, 2014 10:00:40 GMT -6
- SCENE ONE -
LOCATION: Silver Legacy Resort, Reno, NV - Suite
TIME: Wednesday, February 19th, 2014, 8:05pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Talon
The massive Silent Destroyer stands before the large windows in his suite, gazing out at the lights that define the skyline of Reno after dark. One hand cradles a glass of amber liquid, ice clinking softly against the edges as he slowly twirls it with a rotation of his wrist. There's talk from elsewhere in the room, too quiet to be understood as it stands. Talk and, intermittently, quiet laughter that is far easier to place: it belongs to Talon. At times it draws a glance from Sentinel, off to his left to be precise, and when that happens his lips twitch as he suppresses a smile. Sipping from his glass and exhaling with a soft hiss, he turns and strolls around the corner, into the living area, to see what the mirth is about.
She is as he perhaps expected her to be. Sitting cross-legged upon the sofa with her laptop set before her upon the coffee table. The distinct brogue of Aerynn Donnelly is playing through the separate speakers which serves as a revelation to what the talking was all about. Far from what was expected by the masses and some who claim to be 'in the know', Talon hardly looks perturbed by the comments leveled her way by the would-be contender. Acid-colored eyes turn toward Sentinel as he leans against the wall, watching her contently. The Angel of Sin cannot help the smile that upturns her lips, not a humored one but instead a loving one, as she gestured to the laptop in the same moment that Aerynn's promo finished.
Coming over to the sofa himself, Sentinel rests a hand upon the woman's shoulder as she tucks a curly red strand behind her ear. She turns to touch her unpainted lips to his fingers before looking up at him.
Talon: "I take it you've already seen her little diatribe, my love?"
He nods and takes another sip of the whiskey, this time without a change of expression to mark the liquid's potency. His attention is on the screen and a smirk is on his usually-stony face. Talon unfolds a leg, red-painted toes touching the soft carpeting as she leans further into the sofa...and his touch.
Talon: "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you her opponent and not I in this upcoming match? I could have sworn it was you who pinned her employer after mauling her dear friend. But the poor thing...I think the hobo shook something loose in her Irish skull because instead of focusing on you she vented her ire on me."
Nodding, Sentinel takes one last sip to drain the glass before setting upon the table, sitting now on the arm of the sofa. Talon folds her arms atop his thigh and rests her head there contently. One of his heavy hands moves to comb through her unbound hair as she muses prettily, happy as a cat sleeping in the sun.
Talon: "I think you would agree, my Destroyer, that it would be rude of me not to respond to her snipes. But then that would make the poor girl look stupid. She's already fighting an uphill battle against you not to mention against her scrappy buddy and the back-fighting Nicholas Daniels. Do you think that her psyche could weather such? Perhaps I should have mercy on the poor dear..."
Oh, she's laying it on thick and she knows it. Sentinel gestures toward the camera and she turns her eyes up toward him before turning them back to us. Without even lifting her head, her voice calm and sweet, Talon leaves a few words for Aerynn to gnaw on.
Chances are, they taste a bit bitter. The truth is like that.
Talon: "Let's get right to the point: you are beneath us. A scrapper from the Old Country two matches into her fledgling career facing former World Champions in a pay-per-view main event? So, so far below us, my dear. That goes for Paul as well. List every name of every man and woman in this company and chances are that nine times out of ten they're beneath my Destroyer in terms of accolades, ability and Gods-know-what-else. You can't stand that because it's the truth. You hate him for it because you can't refute it and snap at me because I'm the messenger.
But I don't take offense.
Sentinel's ability and success speak for themselves. But the sad truth is that this business is half-predicated on what a person says as much as what they do, thus...here we are. That's what's lost on you, Aerynn: the 'what people do' part. So you're a fighter. How, exactly, does that make you any different, for better or worse, than anyone else in this company? These aren't fights, child, they're wrestling matches. The difference should be pretty simple to grasp, the key word being should. Apparently that isn't the case. Not once did we deny that you're tough as hell, but be serious for a moment: Fabian's sloppy flailing and need to play with his food opened the door to you winning. Jeszika hardly brought her 'A' game either if rumors are true. Your first two professional matches ended in wins but I would venture to guess that they didn't come close to testing your limits."
Sentinel's attention is on the camera again too though his expression is hard to read...
Talon: "My Destroyer will see to it that you have every chance to prove your worth. And if you come out on top then you will have earned his respect. Hell, if you just survive him you'll have earned a bit of it. But I suspect that neither will be the case. The more you run off at the lips about how tough you are, the harder it is to believe. Something tells me you wouldn't sleep very well if you had to put head to pillow knowing that Broderick had earned Sentinel's respect...where you couldn't."
The big man's response is a simple nod. Talon, however, is savoring the force of those simply-spoken words.
Talon: "And just for the record? I'm a multiple-year veteran of the ring myself, with World Championships to my credit and pay-per-view main events across the world on my resume. If I choose to step back into the ring then, and only then, will your snark in my direction carry any weight with me. Right now, it amounts to little more than misdirection, a poor attempt to obfuscate the fact that there's not a solitary thing you can say or do to convince the world, or yourself, that you can get past Sentinel.
Talk like yours, Aerynn, is what ends careers earlier than their time. Any fool who can swing their arms with their hands clenched can fight. If they're thick enough in the skull or stubborn enough, they might even weather the damage long enough to become good at it. Wrestling however takes a special kind of soul to succeed in. Control of mind and body, both working in harmony, is but a start. Innate focus and the willpower to push through pain and negativity to reach out and grab what you want, to earn your right to puff your chest out and flex your muscle before lights, cameras and people screaming your name for good or ill. Those same fools who swing wildly hoping to connect, who are too brain-drunk to have the sense to pace themselves and think about what they say before they say it...they don't last long.
Before you put your face in front of the camera again, speaking without thought or consideration for the inevitable consequences..."
She smirks again, sitting up now so that she's looking dead at the camera.
Talon: "...ponder that. You might spare yourself a little suffering. Maybe."
Glancing up at the Silent Destroyer, Talon rises from the sofa and kisses his cheek before walking out of the room. Left with the laptop and an empty glass, Sentinel moves to sit on the sofa himself, reaching out to move on to the next clip. For a brief moment we hear Pauly O'Conner's voice before the feed cuts out.
- SCENE TWO -
LOCATION: Silver Legacy Resort, Reno, NV - Bar
TIME: Wednesday, February 19th, 2014, 10:11pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Talon
From the suite to the bar downstairs, Talon and Sentinel are doing a good job of enjoying their time before the pay-per-view. The Destroyer himself sits at the bar, another glass of what looks like whiskey in his hand. Content is the best word for how he looks, what his body language registers. Talon, however, is standing, her eyes on something off-camera. Next to her is her own glass though it looks as if it has yet to be touched. Gone are the comfortable jeans and the long-sleeved tee, in their place tight leather pants and a corset-style top she wears beneath a ruby-red peasant blouse. Ringlets of a similar red fall from a twist, framing her face as she takes in the noise and ambiance of the resort at its loudest.
Sentinel turns to look up at her as she browses in silence and she returns the gaze with a slight smile. Picking up her glass, she taps it to his and takes a sip along with him. His phone on the counter, Sentinel picks up, gazes at the screen and shakes his head with a small grin. Talon watches with amusement.
Talon: "I can't believe it, either. It's good that he's moving on and has someone who will treat him right for once. Also glad to see that he wants us there."
A nod comes from the Destroyer as he puts the phone away in the pocket of his black suit jacket. Talon draws a further amount from her glass, licking a drop from her red lips.
Talon: "I hope our schedule allows...no, scratch that. We'll make it work. It would be nice just to be back home again but for such an occasion? It shan't be missed."
Further silent agreement from the Destroyer before he glances over his shoulder at the camera, then back to Talon. She gets the message and focuses on it herself.
Talon: "What happened? That's what Paul asked us, is it not?"
It's a rhetorical question, of course. Sentinel's shoulders shake as though he's chuckling though no sound emits. It's enough to make Talon show her teeth in a small grin.
Talon: "Sentinel came here because he chose to. Those who we work with, like us, saw the fertility of this new establishment and we quickly agreed to extend the dominance to the UWA. No one, Paul...I repeat no one...knocked Sentinel off anything. We were all set to sit back and say that you finally got your head on straight, Paul, and then you go making an ass of yourself and getting silly ideas into your brain. Perhaps Sentinel threw you down harder than I thought. That or Fabian got a few lucky shots in. No matter."
She shrugs beautifully.
Talon: "You say you understand, but you don't. That much is clear. Two matches into your career and you think you've got this wrestling thing sussed? Potential you may have, Paul, but you're still batting .500 and that isn't enough to play with the big boys. We're starting to wonder if you and your dear friend have taken too many lumps into the wrestling business with you from your cage-fighting days. Are you just drunk with early success and the chance to make a little history? Maybe you're stressed due to a few agents cracking down on your other affairs. Who can say? We wouldn't want to assume and end up looking as foolish as you did.
So let's start with what is clear: history proves what you call our arrogance right far more often than it's proven wrong. One look at the Destroyer's trophy case will clear that wrongheaded notion of yours right up. But let us not dwell on the past. Why, you queried, is Sentinel stepping into a fledgling company like this one, since it being a simple choice isn't enough? Perhaps he wishes to lend his considerable reputation and ability toward taking it to the next level. Maybe he's playing the role of spoiler in anticipation of other like-minded souls finding their way here to dominate. Maybe he has a personal or even financial stake in the company's success.
In the end, 'why' doesn't matter. He's here. He's vying for the biggest belt in the company, seeking to be the first person to hold it. That alone gives the UWA world pause. Concern yourself with that, Paul, not useless speculation because, truly, if he'd fallen as far as you think he has...he'd be mucking around on your level and counting on luck to get him where he wants to be instead of the skill that has already gotten him there."
She's attempting to be patient with the kid, is Talon, but it would seem that the neophyte is wearing on her nerves a touch. Sentinel? He's turned now, watching the camera with that same curious, inscrutable expression.
Talon: "If I were you, I wouldn't brag about still being standing. That's an invitation to be hit harder as far as my Destroyer is concerned. It's a mistake Aerynn has already made and you're not the epitome of toughness that she is by a damn sight. Pushing yourself like a madman, you see, is the only way you're going to survive Sentinel. Or didn't we prove that the first time you two went at it? If you needed a refresher, you could have just asked instead of all this...rigmarole you threw up on the internet.
You're beneath him until you prove that you can hang with him or surpass him. You've proven neither, Paul, so getting cocky is not only uncalled for...but sad. You want to change? Keep your mouth shut, your eyes and ears open and try not to make this war worse for yourself than it already is."
- SCENE THREE -
LOCATION: Silver Legacy Resort, Reno, NV - Suite
TIME: Thursday, February 20th, 2014, 1:37am
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Talon
Far quieter than the last time, the room is mostly dark and only lit by a couple candles on the coffee table. Talon, laid across Sentinel's lap with her head upon his thigh, is gazing up at the shadows dancing upon the ceiling contently. The big man himself is already gazing into the camera with his gray eyes calm, looking peaceful. When Talon speaks the same solace is reflected in her tone...despite the subject of their focus.
Talon: "Which brings us, again, to Nicholas Daniels."
Fingertips tap idly at her corseted midsection, her eyes still on the ceiling.
Talon: "He lives after all. Though, I think, not as happily as he might like. By the time Tragic Engagement ends, we'll have seen to that personally."
No matter how smoothly it's voiced, there's a potency in that comment born of determination and perhaps a twist of fury for garnish.
Talon: "As I said before, Nicholas, when you finally fall through the looking glass back into the real world, you're going to be sliced to ribbons...drowning in your own blood. Perhaps now, while you're still functioning reasonably well, you should stop. Toss that camera of yours out the window, grab your young lady and hold her tight. It might also behoove you to apologize. Not to us because we don't want anything you have to give. No, apologize to her for what is about to happen due to your impudence. We would have had no call before, you see, to drag her into this destruction we shall be leveling at Tragic Engagement. But she just had to involve herself. One thing that Aerynn and my Destroyer agree upon is that young Miss Valentine...shall suffer right by your side. Fated lovers doomed to disappointment and near-eradication. How poetic."
Her laughter is soft. It comes to a stop, ending in a purr as Sentinel strokes his fingers through her once-again loose hair. It hardly quells the ferocity of her comments, though.
Talon: "Are you really so angry at us, Nicholas? Does the truth hurt so very badly? Or are you feeling the pressure that comes with facing someone your dog-and-pony-show doesn't impress, that you can't creep out of the match rather than having to get your hands dirty? For someone with as prolific a career as your resume would seem to imply you certainly put a lot of stock in special effects and mind games. Regale us with how those are going to stop you from crashing into the mat from eight feet in the air, or protect you from the shock to your system that comes with a full-force blow to the back of your neck?
And we won't have to sink to your level either to accomplish that. You'll see us coming. You'll have all the warning that can possibly be provided to steel yourself, to prepare like a veteran should. But will you is the question. No...no, you won't. Not because you choose to but because, in the end, you're going to realize what Paul and Aerynn are too stubborn to: that your best simply won't be good enough. Better that you prepare to attempt survival. Such a goal as that is far more realistic."
Talon closes her eyes, her head giving a little shake against the Destroyer's leg.
Talon: "My confidence in my Destroyer is from whence my vocalized thoughts spring. And that says nothing of the confidence the man himself possesses within. He has tasted defeat in the past and will again in the future. For all we know, Tragic Engagement may be the site of another. Such would be quite sad but it is a possibility we must entertain no matter how distasteful. And if that happens then so be it. Losses put things into perspective. They teach lessons. That's part of why Aerynn is as cocky as she is...because no one here in the UWA has put her on her ass like she desperately needs. Paul? Too many irons on the fire is what plagues that one. He expects to make history when he can't even maintain the family business? Foolish.
And you know our thoughts on you, Nicholas...truths you couldn't hide from if you tried. All of you speaking with such impunity."
...and the grin is back.
Talon: "Impunity, as in exemption from punishment or immunity from detrimental effects, such as an action. The lot of you talk and act as if there will be no consequences for what you are saying or what you have done. My Destroyer shall prove each and every one of you wrong. And I promise you that it will hurt. The fact that you're ignorant of your slights doesn't make a lick of difference. You're marked. You're hunted.
And. You. Will. Fall."
Fade to black.
- END -
