Post by Sentinel on Jan 24, 2014 23:13:03 GMT -6
LOCATION: An underground antechamber, location unknown
TIME: Friday, January 24th, 2014, 12:58pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Zachariah Blood, Rayne, Talon, Faust, Chosen One
It's the meeting place of a people that are fond of their anonymity...or those that have something to hide. The majority of the room is dark to an unnatural degree, to the point that there's no seeing anything outside the circle of light shining down upon a round, stone table. Twelve chairs sit equidistant from one another around the engraved surface's cicrumfrence and when we first lay eyes upon it, each one is empty. Said engravings are intricate but beyond our understanding in both language and form. Foreboding, yes, but also enticing in their own way. Because of the attention to detail or the mystery of it all would be the question as to why.
Our view swings about as a heavy door opens on the other end of the room and four forms enter through the briefly-visible illumination from outside the chamber. The first two are easily recognizable as the Silent Destroyer himself and his manager, Zachariah Blood. After them move two females, one standing almost two inches over six feet tall and moving to the side of Sentinel while the other falls into step beside Zachariah. Three of them move toward the table with trepidation instilled in every motion. Sentinel is the exception to this, striding forward smoothly and taking a seat. The tall woman sits to his left from our vantage, while Blood sits on his other side and the other woman sits on his right. None speak...not even when another door opens up across the way and from it steps six others.
We're given little time to focus upon them before the door behind them closes. Even as they take their seats about the opposite side of the table there's precious little to be made out thanks to the lighting configuration. At least two are women dressed in pure white, while two others are the proverbial brick shithouses, one even larger than Sentinel himself. The other two are normal looking in stature if naught else, and it is one of those who breaks the silence once their seats have been taken. His voice is recognizable as the one which had been upon the other end of the phone when Sentinel was first 'introduced' to us: Faust.
Faust: "On time for once, are you? Trying something new, perhaps?"
Blood is seething already at that comment if his body language is any indicator. The woman to his right puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers something that stills him briefly. Faust apparently finds this amusing.
Faust: "Let him say what's on his mind, Rayne. It is the only way he will learn his lesson since our last altercation has yet to sink in."
A soft chuckle comes from Faust's direction as Zachariah's chair scrapes against the stone floor, his form rising from it. Rayne's grip is no succor and Blood wrenches his arm free, thrusting an accusing finger toward the other six.
Zachariah Blood: "Maybe it hasn't, but I'm more than capable of sinking my fucking fist through your smug skull, Faust! I'm gonna get my pound of flesh out of your smarmy hide, you bastard!"
Faust: "Know your place, Zachariah."
There's a grim smile behind the tone of Faust, who, like the rest of his side of the table, hasn't moved one iota. Well, except for one of the large men there. His hands tensed...
Faust: "It's only because our Chosen One is a forgiving creature that you're still breathing. Or did you forget your betrayal? We are not a forgiving people to those who would disrupt our mission as you tried to. You sit here now with your kin having been given a second chance. Would you truly ruin that so swiftly?"
Rayne: "Zachariah, sit the fuck down!"
The hissing command comes from the woman to Blood's right, her grip upon his arm insistent as she tries to pull the furious young man back down into his chair. From Sentinel's other side comes a biting addition to her directive.
Talon: "Control your whelp, little sister. If our sacrifice that kept both of you awake and alive is shown to be in vain I'll eliminate you myself."
Rayne: "Stay out of this, Talon!"
Chosen One: "Sedersi, ragazzo."
Instantly, eleven sets of eyes turn to the biggest man at the table, his tone soft yet commanding. Despite his directive coming forth in something other than English, everyone gets the gist. Even Zachariah...who slowly lowers back into his seat, still near-frothing with rage.
Chosen One: "Non più seconde possibilità. Ora...o mai."
Calm settles over the table again, leading to Faust speaking again.
Faust: "In a very slim, roundabout way, this...Unchained Wrestling Alliance...may prove a better environment for the Second Coming than your last company of choice. A freshly-birthed battleground not yet tainted by politics or pedestrians who in their ignorance would bar us. Are we in agreement on that?"
All at the table, including Zachariah and Sentinel, nod slowly.
Faust: "Dominance, then, must be asserted from the very beginning. Based on the information offered us, Sentinel's first opposition in this place is blissful in his ignorance, making the same assumption as the rest have. Such neophytes as this must be dealt with swiftly with the kind of teachings that only one of Sentinel's nature could offer. Well...Sentinel and our Chosen One, of course."
Zachariah Blood: "He's a moron, this Pauly O'Connor. Thinks because he can fight, because he revels in violence, that he's got a chance in hell of beating Sentinel. People love to fight when they win, not when they're getting smeared all over the floor, canvas or what-the-fuck-ever. Something that has been alluded to about him and his, though..."
Faust: "His connections, you mean?"
Talon: "Their kind are not to be trifled with as I am certain you are aware, Faust. I don't doubt that you're aware of their existence and their goals. Backlash would not serve your...OUR...goals."
Faust: "Sharp as always, Talon, but there is no need to worry. The IRA are no of consequence to us. Different people, different goals."
A certain amount of relief is vicariously felt by us at those words, noticable more in Talon, Rayne and Blood than Sentinel, who sits like a statue. The intrigues all around him either aren't sinking in or are simply beyond his notice. Talon turns to him now, her hand placed atop his as she whispers just loudly enough for us to hear into his ear.
Talon: "Already there, aren't you?"
The Silent Destroyer's hand turns so that his palm is placed against Talon's, his fingers closing about her slender-yet-strong hand. He turns her way with the slightest of smiles and nods. She smiles in return, prompting Faust to speak up again.
Faust: "He is ready, then?"
Talon: "He is."
Faust: "Good."
Zachariah Blood: "There's nothing to worry about. This so-called Firecracker is reminiscent of more than half the fools Sentinel slaughtered once upon a time and at least they had experience in the business. They had reason, you see, to be a little arrogant because they, unlike this punk, had accomplished things worth barking about. Even were it only in the slightest of margins they had reason to be proud. This clown..."
Zachariah trails off, shaking his head with a grim, laughing-like sound. But there's no smile on his face as he lifts it again.
Zachariah Blood: "...he's meat for the beast."
Faust: "Underestimation is ill-advised, Blood."
Zachariah Blood: "Nothing I say to or about him is going to affect Sentinel's focus or preparedness. I'm merely the Voice of the Beast for the time being, after all."
Faust: "...well said."
Our view is cut off by the darkness for a moment.
Sentinel is front and center when we're given a look at him and his once again, arms folded across his chest as he leans against a black Escalade, dressed all in black himself. Sunglasses cover his stone-gray eyes and Zachariah, similarly-attired, is pacing back and forth in front of him. The midday sky is a soft gray and the wind whipping past is chilly, a harbinger of a coming storm. If Talon and Rayne are present, they are not within the shot. All we see is a monster and his voice, the latter itching to attend to his task after the 'meeting' earlier.
He halts his pacing, looking toward Sentinel, and the big man looks back at him. Both turn their attention skyward for a few moments before the Silent Destroyer nods to his manager and partner, gesturing toward us. Blood nods and takes in a breath before speaking.
Zachariah Blood: "I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, O'Connor...that is, until you opened your ball-washer and started spewing this...tripe."
Without further prompting, Sentinel's hand slips into the pocket of tailored jacket and draws out a spankin'-new Samsung Galaxy Note 3. He passes it to Zachariah who, with a few careful taps and sweeps, plays the promo that Pauly had put to the internet not long prior.
Zachariah Blood: "Kid, if we wanted you scared, you'd know it. It took you all of two minutes to prove yourself no better than the mindless cattle Sentinel has slaughtered in the course of his career. Instead of putting your brain toward the task of understanding what you're about to face, applying a little thought beyond cliches and bullshit, you leap to the same conclusions as the rest of them did. Sentinel is silent for a reason that's none of your damn concern. Gimmicks are for people looking to sell t-shirts or foam fingers to the drones in the audience. But the harsh fucking truth of this business is that people care as much about what you say as what you do in the ring. So rather that compromise himself, he chooses another to put his thoughts and intents into a form that miscreants like you can understand.
Not that you should be expected to get that. I mean, subtlety and forward thinking? You have someone holding your hand and making your choices for you and you've yet to have your first match in this business. You didn't even have a fucking inkling that you were in for a fight until she damn well told you so. And we're supposed to not think low of you for not being someone who can handle your own affairs? Let's be real as real can fuckin' get, Pauly:"
Zachariah drags a thumb across his throat as in the background Sentinel smirks ever so slightly.
Zachariah Blood: "You're fucked."
Perhaps it's just their relative sizes but standing where he does, as he does, Sentinel looks like he towers over Zachariah. It's more than physical stature but semantics. And Blood seems aware of this as our view moves to keep them both in frame, ensuring that while he's the one making the message clear, the attention should ever be on the Silent Destroyer.
Zachariah Blood: "And hiding? Really? No man, god nor demon could cause this warrior behind me to even think of hiding. Especially not you with all your maybes and excuses. Are you even aware of how derivative you sound, of how many times not just we..."
Blood gestures to himself and Sentinel.
Zachariah Blood: "...but damn near every wrestler in this business, rookie or veteran, has heard the same damn thing? You really have no idea what you're getting into in this business, much less in a match with the Silent Destroyer..."
Shaking his head, Zachariah takes a breath to lower his heart rate. It would seem that the meeting earlier had worn on him. That or the alluded-to injury. Sentinel's heavy hand comes to rest on his partner's shoulder. Blood turns to stare up at the Silence Behind the Violence for a moment. They nod once before turning to us again.
Zachariah Blood: "You've stepped into something you're not ready for no matter how good of a fighter you say, think or actually are. And you've done it without being the least bit prepared. If it were me you were fighting, Pauly, I wouldn't have warned you. I would have strolled into that ring, caved your face in and made you scream for the safety of your mother's womb. This Aerynn woman would be taking you back to Ireland in a plastic baggie. It would be a lesson for your whole family and the organization they're a part of.
So why, then, would I bother to show you any mercy here when the blood isn't destined to be on my hands either way? Because it's what HE wanted."
Blood gestures briefly to Sentinel.
Zachariah Blood: "HE wanted you to have half a chance. HE doesn't want your friends and loved ones to cry when they see what's left of you if you push us too far. It is HIS mercy that, if your skull is too thick to see the truth of it all, you'll even be able to continue in any business, personal or professional, after this match is over. So make sure when you're picked up off the canvas and checking to make sure all your major parts and organs still work properly that you thank Sentinel for allowing you that much.
Because if it were up to me, your first match would be your last."
Our view goes to black on the two of them.
TIME: Friday, January 24th, 2014, 12:58pm
PLAYERS: Sentinel, Zachariah Blood, Rayne, Talon, Faust, Chosen One
- SCENE ONE -
It's the meeting place of a people that are fond of their anonymity...or those that have something to hide. The majority of the room is dark to an unnatural degree, to the point that there's no seeing anything outside the circle of light shining down upon a round, stone table. Twelve chairs sit equidistant from one another around the engraved surface's cicrumfrence and when we first lay eyes upon it, each one is empty. Said engravings are intricate but beyond our understanding in both language and form. Foreboding, yes, but also enticing in their own way. Because of the attention to detail or the mystery of it all would be the question as to why.
Our view swings about as a heavy door opens on the other end of the room and four forms enter through the briefly-visible illumination from outside the chamber. The first two are easily recognizable as the Silent Destroyer himself and his manager, Zachariah Blood. After them move two females, one standing almost two inches over six feet tall and moving to the side of Sentinel while the other falls into step beside Zachariah. Three of them move toward the table with trepidation instilled in every motion. Sentinel is the exception to this, striding forward smoothly and taking a seat. The tall woman sits to his left from our vantage, while Blood sits on his other side and the other woman sits on his right. None speak...not even when another door opens up across the way and from it steps six others.
We're given little time to focus upon them before the door behind them closes. Even as they take their seats about the opposite side of the table there's precious little to be made out thanks to the lighting configuration. At least two are women dressed in pure white, while two others are the proverbial brick shithouses, one even larger than Sentinel himself. The other two are normal looking in stature if naught else, and it is one of those who breaks the silence once their seats have been taken. His voice is recognizable as the one which had been upon the other end of the phone when Sentinel was first 'introduced' to us: Faust.
Faust: "On time for once, are you? Trying something new, perhaps?"
Blood is seething already at that comment if his body language is any indicator. The woman to his right puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers something that stills him briefly. Faust apparently finds this amusing.
Faust: "Let him say what's on his mind, Rayne. It is the only way he will learn his lesson since our last altercation has yet to sink in."
A soft chuckle comes from Faust's direction as Zachariah's chair scrapes against the stone floor, his form rising from it. Rayne's grip is no succor and Blood wrenches his arm free, thrusting an accusing finger toward the other six.
Zachariah Blood: "Maybe it hasn't, but I'm more than capable of sinking my fucking fist through your smug skull, Faust! I'm gonna get my pound of flesh out of your smarmy hide, you bastard!"
Faust: "Know your place, Zachariah."
There's a grim smile behind the tone of Faust, who, like the rest of his side of the table, hasn't moved one iota. Well, except for one of the large men there. His hands tensed...
Faust: "It's only because our Chosen One is a forgiving creature that you're still breathing. Or did you forget your betrayal? We are not a forgiving people to those who would disrupt our mission as you tried to. You sit here now with your kin having been given a second chance. Would you truly ruin that so swiftly?"
Rayne: "Zachariah, sit the fuck down!"
The hissing command comes from the woman to Blood's right, her grip upon his arm insistent as she tries to pull the furious young man back down into his chair. From Sentinel's other side comes a biting addition to her directive.
Talon: "Control your whelp, little sister. If our sacrifice that kept both of you awake and alive is shown to be in vain I'll eliminate you myself."
Rayne: "Stay out of this, Talon!"
Chosen One: "Sedersi, ragazzo."
Instantly, eleven sets of eyes turn to the biggest man at the table, his tone soft yet commanding. Despite his directive coming forth in something other than English, everyone gets the gist. Even Zachariah...who slowly lowers back into his seat, still near-frothing with rage.
Chosen One: "Non più seconde possibilità. Ora...o mai."
Calm settles over the table again, leading to Faust speaking again.
Faust: "In a very slim, roundabout way, this...Unchained Wrestling Alliance...may prove a better environment for the Second Coming than your last company of choice. A freshly-birthed battleground not yet tainted by politics or pedestrians who in their ignorance would bar us. Are we in agreement on that?"
All at the table, including Zachariah and Sentinel, nod slowly.
Faust: "Dominance, then, must be asserted from the very beginning. Based on the information offered us, Sentinel's first opposition in this place is blissful in his ignorance, making the same assumption as the rest have. Such neophytes as this must be dealt with swiftly with the kind of teachings that only one of Sentinel's nature could offer. Well...Sentinel and our Chosen One, of course."
Zachariah Blood: "He's a moron, this Pauly O'Connor. Thinks because he can fight, because he revels in violence, that he's got a chance in hell of beating Sentinel. People love to fight when they win, not when they're getting smeared all over the floor, canvas or what-the-fuck-ever. Something that has been alluded to about him and his, though..."
Faust: "His connections, you mean?"
Talon: "Their kind are not to be trifled with as I am certain you are aware, Faust. I don't doubt that you're aware of their existence and their goals. Backlash would not serve your...OUR...goals."
Faust: "Sharp as always, Talon, but there is no need to worry. The IRA are no of consequence to us. Different people, different goals."
A certain amount of relief is vicariously felt by us at those words, noticable more in Talon, Rayne and Blood than Sentinel, who sits like a statue. The intrigues all around him either aren't sinking in or are simply beyond his notice. Talon turns to him now, her hand placed atop his as she whispers just loudly enough for us to hear into his ear.
Talon: "Already there, aren't you?"
The Silent Destroyer's hand turns so that his palm is placed against Talon's, his fingers closing about her slender-yet-strong hand. He turns her way with the slightest of smiles and nods. She smiles in return, prompting Faust to speak up again.
Faust: "He is ready, then?"
Talon: "He is."
Faust: "Good."
Zachariah Blood: "There's nothing to worry about. This so-called Firecracker is reminiscent of more than half the fools Sentinel slaughtered once upon a time and at least they had experience in the business. They had reason, you see, to be a little arrogant because they, unlike this punk, had accomplished things worth barking about. Even were it only in the slightest of margins they had reason to be proud. This clown..."
Zachariah trails off, shaking his head with a grim, laughing-like sound. But there's no smile on his face as he lifts it again.
Zachariah Blood: "...he's meat for the beast."
Faust: "Underestimation is ill-advised, Blood."
Zachariah Blood: "Nothing I say to or about him is going to affect Sentinel's focus or preparedness. I'm merely the Voice of the Beast for the time being, after all."
Faust: "...well said."
Our view is cut off by the darkness for a moment.
- SCENE TWO -
Sentinel is front and center when we're given a look at him and his once again, arms folded across his chest as he leans against a black Escalade, dressed all in black himself. Sunglasses cover his stone-gray eyes and Zachariah, similarly-attired, is pacing back and forth in front of him. The midday sky is a soft gray and the wind whipping past is chilly, a harbinger of a coming storm. If Talon and Rayne are present, they are not within the shot. All we see is a monster and his voice, the latter itching to attend to his task after the 'meeting' earlier.
He halts his pacing, looking toward Sentinel, and the big man looks back at him. Both turn their attention skyward for a few moments before the Silent Destroyer nods to his manager and partner, gesturing toward us. Blood nods and takes in a breath before speaking.
Zachariah Blood: "I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, O'Connor...that is, until you opened your ball-washer and started spewing this...tripe."
Without further prompting, Sentinel's hand slips into the pocket of tailored jacket and draws out a spankin'-new Samsung Galaxy Note 3. He passes it to Zachariah who, with a few careful taps and sweeps, plays the promo that Pauly had put to the internet not long prior.
Zachariah Blood: "Kid, if we wanted you scared, you'd know it. It took you all of two minutes to prove yourself no better than the mindless cattle Sentinel has slaughtered in the course of his career. Instead of putting your brain toward the task of understanding what you're about to face, applying a little thought beyond cliches and bullshit, you leap to the same conclusions as the rest of them did. Sentinel is silent for a reason that's none of your damn concern. Gimmicks are for people looking to sell t-shirts or foam fingers to the drones in the audience. But the harsh fucking truth of this business is that people care as much about what you say as what you do in the ring. So rather that compromise himself, he chooses another to put his thoughts and intents into a form that miscreants like you can understand.
Not that you should be expected to get that. I mean, subtlety and forward thinking? You have someone holding your hand and making your choices for you and you've yet to have your first match in this business. You didn't even have a fucking inkling that you were in for a fight until she damn well told you so. And we're supposed to not think low of you for not being someone who can handle your own affairs? Let's be real as real can fuckin' get, Pauly:"
Zachariah drags a thumb across his throat as in the background Sentinel smirks ever so slightly.
Zachariah Blood: "You're fucked."
Perhaps it's just their relative sizes but standing where he does, as he does, Sentinel looks like he towers over Zachariah. It's more than physical stature but semantics. And Blood seems aware of this as our view moves to keep them both in frame, ensuring that while he's the one making the message clear, the attention should ever be on the Silent Destroyer.
Zachariah Blood: "And hiding? Really? No man, god nor demon could cause this warrior behind me to even think of hiding. Especially not you with all your maybes and excuses. Are you even aware of how derivative you sound, of how many times not just we..."
Blood gestures to himself and Sentinel.
Zachariah Blood: "...but damn near every wrestler in this business, rookie or veteran, has heard the same damn thing? You really have no idea what you're getting into in this business, much less in a match with the Silent Destroyer..."
Shaking his head, Zachariah takes a breath to lower his heart rate. It would seem that the meeting earlier had worn on him. That or the alluded-to injury. Sentinel's heavy hand comes to rest on his partner's shoulder. Blood turns to stare up at the Silence Behind the Violence for a moment. They nod once before turning to us again.
Zachariah Blood: "You've stepped into something you're not ready for no matter how good of a fighter you say, think or actually are. And you've done it without being the least bit prepared. If it were me you were fighting, Pauly, I wouldn't have warned you. I would have strolled into that ring, caved your face in and made you scream for the safety of your mother's womb. This Aerynn woman would be taking you back to Ireland in a plastic baggie. It would be a lesson for your whole family and the organization they're a part of.
So why, then, would I bother to show you any mercy here when the blood isn't destined to be on my hands either way? Because it's what HE wanted."
Blood gestures briefly to Sentinel.
Zachariah Blood: "HE wanted you to have half a chance. HE doesn't want your friends and loved ones to cry when they see what's left of you if you push us too far. It is HIS mercy that, if your skull is too thick to see the truth of it all, you'll even be able to continue in any business, personal or professional, after this match is over. So make sure when you're picked up off the canvas and checking to make sure all your major parts and organs still work properly that you thank Sentinel for allowing you that much.
Because if it were up to me, your first match would be your last."
Our view goes to black on the two of them.
- END -
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