Post by Sentinel on Dec 10, 2014 11:01:16 GMT -6
It's an hour-plus removed from the end of Mayhem and the hallways of Santa Ana Star Center are mostly quiet. There's the odd yell from one UWA crew member to the other as they trudge through the unenviable task of moving the set pieces and ring from one arena to the other. There's also the heavy footsteps and walkie-talkie static from the security guards who make sure the crew can do their job safely, having already seen most of the talent out in the same fashion. There are few stragglers this time around, what with Cataclysm being the next show. Preparations must be made, setting up interviews, promotional pieces and fan events to set up the final pay-per-view of the UWA's inaugural year.
The camera, which had been on its way down the hall from the entrance to the stage, continues toward the hallway leading to the locker room area. Most folks, as stated before, were already gone. But the person behind this particular recorder was lucky enough to catch sight of Talon and Sentinel as they exited their locker room, showered and changed after the go-home Mayhem had run its course. As is typical for him these days, Sentinel wears his Dead Men cut, this time over a hoodie and well-worn jeans and boots. A large black duffel slung over his shoulder, he holds the door for Talon, dressed in a similar manner to her Destroyer and carrying a smaller red bag. If there's conversation going on, we aren't yet privy to it. But we're clearly within range of someone on the other end of the hallway who yells out belligerently toward the couple from behind the camera's position.
?: "Where the hell do you think you're going, ya big mute bastard?!"
Had this been on television, the crowd would have reacted quite potently to someone calling out the Silent Destroyer so cavalierly. All it takes is a little imagination to hear the massive 'ohhhhh!' echoing through the halls though. Sentinel turns to look over his shoulder with a snarl already curled on his usually-impassive face while Talon herself whirls around as though she, too, would be all too happy to throw down on the loudmouth.
But instead, the big man's eyebrow goes up as he turns fully before a smirk manifests. Talon, in turn, smiles slightly but rolls her eyes in mock irritation.
Talon: "Very funny."
?: "Wasn't it? I knew it'd get your attention."
The camera turns, showing a young man, perhaps in his late-20s. His hair hangs down to cover half of his face, with the one eye showing being of a similar color to Talon's own though perhaps even more piercing in its stare. It's the look of someone who's dissecting everything that falls under their gaze. He walks up to Talon and Sentinel, first to the big man, his severe expression turns to a lopsided, somewhat-endearing as he extends his hand to the Destroyer.
?: "Big as life and twice as quiet. How have you been, brother?"
Sentinel accepts the hand, shaking it firmly before the two briefly embrace. The man is a slight bit shorter than Talon, though her heels might have something to do with that. He turns to her next and their embrace is warm and lingering, the smile that the Angel of Sin wears taking on a warmth and sweetness that's rarely seen from her.
Talon: "It's good to see you, Alex. I'm glad you could finally make it."
Alex: "Life was being life. I actually got here a few hours ago but considering your match and all, I figured I'd have my meeting and wait for you to be done before making an appearance."
Alex makes no further elaboration on what exactly he was doing there, save to gesture toward the direction in which Talon and Sentinel were heading before joining them.
Talon: "So how was your trip, brother?"
Alex: "Uneventful, yet enjoyable in its own way. You'll see why once we get outside."
Talon and Sentinel exchange glances, the former turning quickly back to her brother, a twin if appearances told true, and affecting a look of eager surprise.
Talon: "It's finished?"
Alex nods quietly.
Alex: "Drove it here myself."
The threesome make their way out to the parking lot and, off to the side near to where the 18-wheelers that ferried the set pieces from one arena to the next were being loaded sat a tour bus. The color scheme was one of red, black and silver, with just the right amount of Gothic flair to make it obvious that Alex had been in charge of the decoration. A keen eye could see that it wasn't a spanking new ride...not by several years, in fact. But the refurbishing job on the outside alone made it an appealing piece of work regardless. The three walk up to it, the Destroyer and his second making a slower pace of it as the looked the ride up and down.
Alex hung back, content with their reaction to the new ride as he explained further details.
Alex: "Had to go a little over-budget on the girl. The engine had to be overhauled and most of the gaskets and hoses were in need of replacing. That doesn't count what the tires ended up costing, either. On the plus side, the previous interior seemed to have been made with our idea in mind, so replacing everything was a lot easier than expected."
Talon: "So naturally you went overboard, didn't you?"
Alex: "As efficiently as possible."
Alex chuckled to himself as Sentinel busied himself checking the luggage compartments and what-not on the far side of the bus while Talon hung back a bit with her brother.
Alex: "Six bunks and a more, shall we say, proper bed in the back to start with aside from the restroom. Enough seating and surfaces for several people and places to store, cook and eat about whatever you could want. Hook-ups for computers and televisions and eventually wireless when I find a service that won't try and gouge us. And, shockingly, the gas mileage is pretty good, too. I even got some space set aside for Cheyenne so you can bring her along from time to time."
Talon: "That'll certainly be nice. I don't like leaving her at home for even a day with the sitter, much less more than one. Not to mention that this will save a ton on travel costs. I'm glad it's finally finished."
About to reply, Alex is given pause by the ringing of Talon's phone as Sentinel is coming back around to join them. She glances at the caller ID before turning to her brother and husband with a more comment yet still appealing smile.
Talon: "Business calls. How about you let Alex give you the interior tour while I take care of this, baby? Then we'll get your bike loaded on the trailer and head back to the hotel?"
Alex: "Yeah, you'll dig the set-up in here, brother."
Sentinel nods and shares a brief kiss with Talon before following Alex into the bus. No sooner does she hear the hiss of the doors opening than does Talon answer her phone, her tone going serious in mere seconds.
Talon: "Yeah?"
Shawn Crowe: "Got some unpleasant news once we got back to town after Thanksgiving. You able to talk for a minute?"
Casting a cursory glance over her shoulder, seeing the silhouettes of her brother and husband through the bus's tinted windows, she turns to facing forward again and replies.
Talon: "...what's going on, Shawn? Does it have to do with..."
Shawn Crowe: "Big time."
Talon curses under her breath, a hand going to her face.
Shawn Crowe: "I don't have time to go into full detail right now, but it's exactly as bad as you think it is. I'm assuming you and Sentinel will be rolling back to town in a couple days?"
Talon: "Yeah, we're swinging home for a day or two to unwind before heading back out to Colorado. The bus is done so we're taking Cheyenne with us and probably picking up our old partners along the way. Why, you want me to send Sentinel down your way?"
Shawn Crowe: "Not this time. That's what I called about; I've been asked to keep him as far from this situation as possible for his sake and that of everyone involved."
Where concern once rested on Talon's features, there now lies a mix of irritation and surprise.
Talon: "What's that supposed to mean, Shawn?"
Shawn Crowe: "I don't like it, either, but I see the sense in it."
Talon: "He's going to be pissed if he finds out. He doesn't like secrets."
It's Shawn's turn to register some irritation from his end of the conversation, though it's obviously heard instead of seen.
Shawn Crowe: "None of us do. Secrets get people hurt. They cause people to lose their lives. Same as we have to keep him out of the loop on this, you have to keep on doing what your doing on your end."
Talon: "...what I'm doing is another matter entirely."
Shawn Crowe: "Potato, potato, sis. I'm just asking you to understand our situation while trying to understand yours. Look, I have to get off here...we've got a run to do. I'll call you in a few days and let you know if anything's changed."
Talon sighs and nods, muttering into the phone as she hears either Alex or Sentinel exiting the bus.
Talon: "You be careful, hear me?"
Shawn Crowe: "Will do."
Alex comes around and puts a hand on his sister's shoulder as she tucks the phone back into her pocket, affecting a more genial expression before Alex lays eyes on her formerly-worried countenance.
Alex: "Come on, sis, you gotta see this thing. I'll help your massively-quiet husband get his bike loaded up while you browse."
It's hard to argue with her twin's enthusiasm, and Talon smiles at him, nodding as she takes his arm and walks around to the other side of the bus with him. The scene goes to black a few moments later and cuts to a scene a little over a week earlier. The Dead Men sit or stand as the case may be, impatiently awaiting the arrival of someone known only as 'Kage' up to this point. Outside the chapel on the third floor of the shop that serves as their base for lack of a better name, Shawn sits back on the old sofa, grinding out the latest of several cigarette butts in the steadily-filling ashtray. Darius and Frederick sit at a nearby table, going over some paperwork if appearances don't decieve. Rory is pacing back and forth while Antonio is near the north window on his phone.
Downstairs, a car is heard pulling in and shutting off, a door opening and closing. A buzz sounds in short order and Rory, getting the nod from Shawn, presses the button on the intercom.
Rory McCall: "Who's there?"
A partially-garbled voice, accented in an unfamiliar way, answers back.
Kage: "It's Kage. Open up...I can't be seen around this place."
Rory remotely unlocks the front door before backing away from the door to sit on the arm of the sofa. Five sets of eyes watch the door as footsteps approach and as it opens to reveal a small man of Oriental descent. The simple black suit and white shirt he wears seems to be worn a little bigger than is necessary. Despite this, tattoos peek out from beneath the sleeves, running up Kage's hands a bit. The same is the case at his neck where the high collar doesn't hide all of the ink. He takes off his eurotrash sunglasses and tucks them into his breast pocket, running his hands through his slicked, pulled-back hair as a deep breath escapes him. After a moment to look over the collected group, he centers on Shawn.
Shawn Crowe: "Good to see some things don't change."
Kage: "Fuckin' bite me, Crowe."
A couple of the Dead Men chuckle at the exchange, including Shawn. Kage grins slightly but the expression doesn't last.
Kage: "Let's skip the bullshit. You know why I asked to meet you guys here."
Darius Edwards: "Something about Robert Sasaki, right?"
Kage: "Yeah. You guys know he came back to town a couple years ago, right? Started a couple businesses nearby, tried to get his life back together after he was chased off?"
Glances are exchanged before the Dead Men nod almost in unison at the question. Kage has their full attention which, even though he seems to be on their side, doesn't seem to be the most comfortable place to be.
Kage: "Well, local cops got a call from him the other day about some vandalism. Couple broken windows, some spray paint...shit you'd usually peg on a bunch of punk-ass teens lookin' for a thrill, right?"
Shawn Crowe: "...so?"
Kage: "So apparently it wasn't that simple. Couple people who I keep up with for business reasons..."
Frederick snorts under his breath, getting a glare from Kage that hardly looks threatening but still gets the scarred Dead Man to quiet for the moment.
Kage: "...are sayin' they seen some of my old, ah...running buddies...lurkin' around. Mostly hittin' the casino and some of the bars, but that ain't as important as the fact that they're here. Again."
Shawn Crowe: "Why?"
Kage shrugs, using a kerchief from his pocket to clean the lenses of his shades, treating them as though they're worth a couple hundred. It's probably closer to a couple tens.
Kage: "Fuck if I know, but I'm guessin' old grudges. My people ain't known for letting shit slide, as you guys and your recently-returned brother know all too well."
There's a murmur that passes through the room as the 'recently-returned brother' is referenced and Shawn gets to his feet, motioning for a little calm amongst his fellows. They do, but the tension in the immediate vicinity has doubled in mere moments.
Shawn Crowe: "As we ALL know. Get to the point, Kage."
Pocketing the sunglasses, Kage holds up both hands, fingers manicured and lined with rings, as though trying to hold off some kind of violence on his person.
Kage: "I'm gettin' there!"
Taking a moment to compose himself, thankful inwardly that none of the bikers smack the gel out of his hair, he continues.
Kage: "Anyway, this mornin' I get word from someone workin' with the cops that a few of Robert's employee's are missin' from their jobs. Two waitresses from his restaurant and the guy he has managing his little curio shop down the road. Nothing taken from the places though they were mussed up a little. Not much to go on, I'm afraid..."
Kage has the look of a child dying to spill a secret, which has Shawn rolling his eyes.
Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, but you got somethin', I bet."
Kage: "Couldn't get my hands on tapes from the cameras, but I managed to score a few stills."
Retrieving an envelope from his jacket, he passes it to the president, who opens the yellow sleeve and retrieves a few pictures. It only takes a couple moments of perusing before his eyes are back on Kage.
Shawn Crowe: "And?"
Kage: "Cops around here aren't equipped to deal with this sort of thing and the Council doesn't give a shit as long as it doesn't affect the casino. You guys are the only ones to look into it and do something about it."
Shawn Crowe: "You got what we need to make that happen?"
Kage reaches for another envelope but before he does he looks around the room curiously. Shawn raises a brow but soon shows his impatience. Kage meets his eyes but this time doesn't quail as he had previously.
Kage: "The, ah...big fella...he isn't here, is he?"
Shawn Crowe: "What does that have to do at with anything?"
Kage: "I'm instructed by Robert himself to make sure he's not involved. Old grudges and all that. He doesn't want this situation getting worse."
Shawn Crowe: "...which is fucking stupid considering that Sentinel is the best man to be on this job all considered."
The smaller man smirks and it makes him look utterly unlikable. He didn't have much going for him to begin with, though.
Kage: "So that's what he's callin' himself these days, huh? Robert and his family still call him somethin' else..."
Shawn Crowe: "Thin ice, Kage. I don't care what they think of him. The man's our brother and rides with us as such. Insulting him is insulting all of us."
Kage: "Hey, like it or not, it's the truth. If you want to take this job, and don't play as if you don't need what Robert's payin' to keep this shit going, 'Sentinel' needs to stay on the outside of it. If you got a problem with that, I'm sure we can find someone else..."
Antonio pushes off the wall but Shawn holds his arm out to stop him from throtting Kage, which is quite obviously his intent. Frederick rises as well, but instead goes to Shawn and beckons his attention for a moment. The two whisper to one another briefly before Shawn, grudgingly, turns back to Kage.
Shawn Crowe: "Fine. He stays out of this until the job's done. But it can't stay that way forever...we all know it."
Finishing handing off the packet to Shawn, Kage shrugs and replaces his sunglasses with a bit more smugness than is necessary.
Kage: "Hey, whatever happens happens, man. Personally, I don't want to run into him myself. He'd probably try to tear my face off soon as he saw me."
Shawn Crowe: "He does have a problem with skeevy, wannabe gangsters talking shit in his general vicinity."
Kage: "Hey, that hurts, man. I put that life behind me."
Shawn Crowe: "But kept the wardrobe."
Kage: "Hardy-fuckin'-har. Look, I have to get out of here before I'm seen. You know how to reach me when this shit's done. No sooner than that, though. Appearances and all."
Kage leaves before his welcome is overstayed and once his car pulls off, Shawn sits back down as the rest of the club watches him in an anticipatory fashion. He meets their gazes one at a time before sighing, responding to the stares.
Shawn Crowe: "Even if they hadn't requested that Sentinel stay out of this shit, we'd have to keep him out on general principle. He's trying to get his professional life back together and throwing him in the middle of this hurricane we're about to wander into...it'd just make things harder. Talon already doesn't like him having to work with us on some of these jobs and something that involves..."
He stops short of speaking of it, but the point is made.
Shawn Crowe: "...let's just keep this on a need-to-know basis, all right? I'll call Talon myself and let her know what's going on. Better that she's the one directing him away from us till everything dies down. We all in agreement on that?"
The rest of the club nods slowly, though their expression indicate that keeping their brother out of the loop doesn't sit well at all, especially considering the friendships and his standing in the club. There's nothing to be done about it, however, as tends to be the case with matters of business. Once more we cut to black and return moments later to what must be the interior of the new wheels acquired recently from Talon's twin brother, Alex. Sitting on a couch-like bench in the midsection of the bus's interior, Sentinel is leaned forward with his hands clasped and pressed against his brow. His gray eyes are closed and his black hair hangs loose, masking the rest of his features. The scenery, what of it there is beyond rocks and sand, whizzes by with Alex at the wheel, the sounds of Celldweller emitting from the radio up front.
The view tilts and becomes fuzzy from moment to moment, with muttered epithets of agitation in Talon's voice emit from out of sight. Presumably the portable camera is being a bitch and a half (her words, not ours) as she tries to set it up to record. But in due time, only a few moments for us thankfully, she gets a clear shot of the Silent Destroyer and steps into the frame herself. Tight black jeans and a black baby tee that reads "Keep Silent and Destroy" in the style typical of the more well-known memes of the day hugs to her athletic figure as she perches on the table to Sentinel's left. She balances herself easily with a hand on his broad back between his shoulders, a gesture that doesn't shift him one iota.
Talon: "Ah, Joshua...it's always just one way with him, isn't it?"
She turns her emerald gaze upon Sentinel, whose shoulders shift slightly as if he's shrugging...the only response he gives. Yet it's enough to make Talon smile sweetly. Sweetly and wickedly.
Talon: "You point out all the reasons why, you give them a clear out so that they can turn around and walk away without losing face...and they'd rather, instead, play the role of the out-of-control semi skidding on black ice. They swerve and sway, panic taking over as neither brakes nor steering bring them out of their undesirable charge and, instead, make things worse. And we all know what happens after that, don't we?"
The smile disappears, Talon smacking one palm into the other with a loud, slapping sound.
Talon: "They smash into something or someone, the sudden stop doing damage to all sides. Sometimes a fatal amount of damage. It's too late for him to pull himself out of his careening path as it carries him ever closer to a grisly, violent end. But he doesn't get to call foul on us because, after all, we offered him an out, didn't we?"
The slightest of nods is given by the Silent Destroyer, who otherwise hasn't moved. Talon carries on, speaking more to him than to the camera and Sentinel's Cataclysm opponent.
Talon: "A strap match. I suppose that was Olivier's last-minute brainchild to make your match match up with the rest. Is there precedence for connecting you to the so-called Dark Messiah by about ten feet of rawhide so that you can beat one another like dogs till the mat is stained red? Has such an object ever come into play in either of your messages like this? Or are we to be made different for the sake of being different, for the effect of being just like every other contest on the card? Such a strange little twist that is. But we hardly mind, Olivier. My Destroyer is plenty creative enough to punish someone like Joshua McBride with the ideas already percolating in his mind long before you made the card public..."
She muses to herself for a moment, once more leaning against her Destroyer as he sits like a statue.
Talon: "...but if you want to give him freer reign, a broader range of implements with which to deliver physical malice, we shall not argue."
At this, Sentinel shifts slightly. Talon notices and sits up, watching him curiously as he reaches out of frame to gather something. What he pulls into view is a broad leather strap, perhaps two inches wide and a good quarter-inch thick. The leather is smooth, obviously recently oiled and manipulated to give it ultimate pliability. Talon laughs softly, seeming to know just how utterly cliche this is, to have Sentinel showing off the very thing that will keep him connected to Joshua McBride in a little over a week, but she means to enjoy it regardless.
Sentinel draws the strap taut between his powerful hands, pushing the gripped ends of the strap together to make both sides bow up in the middle before drawing it straight suddenly, making a sharp snapping sound that echoes through the inside of the coach. Talon licks her lips eagerly as she watches, continuing without turning her eyes back to the camera.
Talon: "Over and over and over again, Joshua..."
Her tone of voice takes a turn for the sultry...
Talon: "...until you're rent unto threads and torn flesh, until crimson oozes out drop by drop while you invariably laugh at the insanity of it all."
She shakes her head, affecting a normalized tone again.
Talon: "Everything is goddamned funny to you, isn't it? You get battered into the canvas or the floor, beaten like the animal you play at not being, and have the gall to laugh in the face of those who rightfully pound on you. Their pain makes you smile. Your pain makes you laugh. I wonder if it's not all some smokescreen, your way of convincing yourself that it doesn't hurt, that you'll be fine once you can get to a place where no one can see.
There, you can break down and let the ragged breaths in and out, wincing as salves and bandages are applied to your wounds, letting out the human side of you that, as much you might hate to admit it, still exists somewhere. You are no Messiah, McBride. You're just a man who failed at his duty and as a result was consumed by his own darkness. You lash out at the world, your former followers and any who cross your path as though, somehow, your attempts to torture them will offer you vindication. But there's no absolution for monsters like you. And I should know, same as my Destroyer."
She looks fondly at Sentinel, though with a little sadness, perhaps a bit of worry. The strap rests across his lap, his palms pressed against it to keep it from slipping off. The Silent Destroyer stares at the implement like a hawk watches a rabbit and, for a moment, the grinding of his teeth is actually audible. He's a cross word or evil thought away from unleashing on the first enemy he sees. It is thankful, then, that he is among those who care and who keep that violence at bay.
Talon: "You're consumed by this caricature of a demon you try to pass yourself off as. Far be it from me to condemn someone for waxing poetic when speaking of how they plan to decimate bodies and ruin souls, but in our case that manner of delivery comes from a poetic heart. In your case it sounds like a man who's seen too many overacted horror films while trying to put a face to the creature that haunts their dreams.
But you have far more to worry about than nightmarish images, Joshua. I ask you again: take a long, hard look at the force of nature that sits by me."
There's no need to overstate the obvious; Sentinel is on a hair-trigger and looking for a reason. His head lifts just a little though his eyes remain downcast, galvanized on the weapon in his grip, and we can just make out the thin smile curling his pale lips through the curtain of black.
Talon, looking upon this herself, is taken aback for just a moment. An expression of worry creeps across her face but is gone as soon as she blinks. She mentally shakes herself out of it with nary a physical indicator save a return to the expression and note of confidence once again.
Talon: "You love war. You want war. Well, motherfucker, you're getting your goddamn war, I promise you that!"
Something beyond righteous fury lingers in her voice but Talon's delivery by association buries it before it comes to the fore. She throws herself into her message, not for a moment letting up as she seems to osmose the ferocity welling within Sentinel and release it through her pontification pertaining to the Dark Messiah.
Talon: "This Destroyer, he who has lain low champions, thugs, pretenders, veterans, rookies and legends alike is coming for YOU! There shall be a reckoning, Joshua McBride, as we give you the vaunted war you claim to crave in such a means that even your twisted nightmares could not prepare you! Your former followers will cringe and cower in the wake of the violence, retching upon seeing the state that we leave you in, both disgusted and fearing for their lives knowing that, in due time, my Destroyer shall break them as well!
But you...oh, don't think we don't know that you're not eating this up! You're reveling in the fact that you have my Destroyer, my husband..."
She punctuates that word, throwing her head back to toss fiery strands over her shoulder so she can properly glare into the camera.
Talon: "...ready to choke every last worthless breath out of your body! Under some wrongheaded notion that putting this monster of a man into a rage will somehow open the doors to your quasi-cerebreal approach, you have forgotten to consider whether you can survive his violence long enough to put such a plan into motion! But do you know the worst part of it all, Joshua? Do you?!"
She's practically frothing, yet somehow ratchets herself down to a whisper, still staring daggers at the camera.
Talon: "The worst part is that there will be no excuses when all is said and done. No Dead Men distracting you by holding your now-former lackeys at bay. No Priestess failing to uphold her duties to her Father. No Doublemint-Twin Angels protecting you from yourself as well as your opponent."
Talon licks her lips as Sentinel suddenly throws his head back, black hair flying behind him as he, now, stares into the cameras as well.
Talon: "You will have to fight, to survive, on your own. Against an undefeated monster wielding a weapon designed to flay the flesh and sting a man to his very soul. You are not an infallible creature, nor are you unstoppable. Sentinel's brethren, they're convinced that beating you down won't stop you. He'll just be back to his wicked ways again in due time, they say, thinking that you're someone better off left to hang by a noose of your own tying.
But even they, Joshua, don't know what my Destroyer can do in a state like this."
Reaching down to cup his chin, Talon urges Sentinel's attention to raise toward her. Eyes of stone meet those of the clearest green, the rapport between the two speaking volumes even though neither, for several moments, says a single word. Unable to take her eyes from Sentinel, Talon's final words come with her attention locked on the Silence Behind the Violence.
Talon: "You had your chance. All that remains now is violence and, ultimately, the end of your pitful reign of terror in the UWA. I wonder, if when you descend into the Pit and look into the eyes of the Devil himself..."
Again with that sweetly violent smile on her face...
Talon: "...if he'll laugh along with you at the hilarity of it all."
Without turning away, Talon reaches over to shut off the camera, bringing the forceful message to a close.
The camera, which had been on its way down the hall from the entrance to the stage, continues toward the hallway leading to the locker room area. Most folks, as stated before, were already gone. But the person behind this particular recorder was lucky enough to catch sight of Talon and Sentinel as they exited their locker room, showered and changed after the go-home Mayhem had run its course. As is typical for him these days, Sentinel wears his Dead Men cut, this time over a hoodie and well-worn jeans and boots. A large black duffel slung over his shoulder, he holds the door for Talon, dressed in a similar manner to her Destroyer and carrying a smaller red bag. If there's conversation going on, we aren't yet privy to it. But we're clearly within range of someone on the other end of the hallway who yells out belligerently toward the couple from behind the camera's position.
?: "Where the hell do you think you're going, ya big mute bastard?!"
Had this been on television, the crowd would have reacted quite potently to someone calling out the Silent Destroyer so cavalierly. All it takes is a little imagination to hear the massive 'ohhhhh!' echoing through the halls though. Sentinel turns to look over his shoulder with a snarl already curled on his usually-impassive face while Talon herself whirls around as though she, too, would be all too happy to throw down on the loudmouth.
But instead, the big man's eyebrow goes up as he turns fully before a smirk manifests. Talon, in turn, smiles slightly but rolls her eyes in mock irritation.
Talon: "Very funny."
?: "Wasn't it? I knew it'd get your attention."
The camera turns, showing a young man, perhaps in his late-20s. His hair hangs down to cover half of his face, with the one eye showing being of a similar color to Talon's own though perhaps even more piercing in its stare. It's the look of someone who's dissecting everything that falls under their gaze. He walks up to Talon and Sentinel, first to the big man, his severe expression turns to a lopsided, somewhat-endearing as he extends his hand to the Destroyer.
?: "Big as life and twice as quiet. How have you been, brother?"
Sentinel accepts the hand, shaking it firmly before the two briefly embrace. The man is a slight bit shorter than Talon, though her heels might have something to do with that. He turns to her next and their embrace is warm and lingering, the smile that the Angel of Sin wears taking on a warmth and sweetness that's rarely seen from her.
Talon: "It's good to see you, Alex. I'm glad you could finally make it."
Alex: "Life was being life. I actually got here a few hours ago but considering your match and all, I figured I'd have my meeting and wait for you to be done before making an appearance."
Alex makes no further elaboration on what exactly he was doing there, save to gesture toward the direction in which Talon and Sentinel were heading before joining them.
Talon: "So how was your trip, brother?"
Alex: "Uneventful, yet enjoyable in its own way. You'll see why once we get outside."
Talon and Sentinel exchange glances, the former turning quickly back to her brother, a twin if appearances told true, and affecting a look of eager surprise.
Talon: "It's finished?"
Alex nods quietly.
Alex: "Drove it here myself."
The threesome make their way out to the parking lot and, off to the side near to where the 18-wheelers that ferried the set pieces from one arena to the next were being loaded sat a tour bus. The color scheme was one of red, black and silver, with just the right amount of Gothic flair to make it obvious that Alex had been in charge of the decoration. A keen eye could see that it wasn't a spanking new ride...not by several years, in fact. But the refurbishing job on the outside alone made it an appealing piece of work regardless. The three walk up to it, the Destroyer and his second making a slower pace of it as the looked the ride up and down.
Alex hung back, content with their reaction to the new ride as he explained further details.
Alex: "Had to go a little over-budget on the girl. The engine had to be overhauled and most of the gaskets and hoses were in need of replacing. That doesn't count what the tires ended up costing, either. On the plus side, the previous interior seemed to have been made with our idea in mind, so replacing everything was a lot easier than expected."
Talon: "So naturally you went overboard, didn't you?"
Alex: "As efficiently as possible."
Alex chuckled to himself as Sentinel busied himself checking the luggage compartments and what-not on the far side of the bus while Talon hung back a bit with her brother.
Alex: "Six bunks and a more, shall we say, proper bed in the back to start with aside from the restroom. Enough seating and surfaces for several people and places to store, cook and eat about whatever you could want. Hook-ups for computers and televisions and eventually wireless when I find a service that won't try and gouge us. And, shockingly, the gas mileage is pretty good, too. I even got some space set aside for Cheyenne so you can bring her along from time to time."
Talon: "That'll certainly be nice. I don't like leaving her at home for even a day with the sitter, much less more than one. Not to mention that this will save a ton on travel costs. I'm glad it's finally finished."
About to reply, Alex is given pause by the ringing of Talon's phone as Sentinel is coming back around to join them. She glances at the caller ID before turning to her brother and husband with a more comment yet still appealing smile.
Talon: "Business calls. How about you let Alex give you the interior tour while I take care of this, baby? Then we'll get your bike loaded on the trailer and head back to the hotel?"
Alex: "Yeah, you'll dig the set-up in here, brother."
Sentinel nods and shares a brief kiss with Talon before following Alex into the bus. No sooner does she hear the hiss of the doors opening than does Talon answer her phone, her tone going serious in mere seconds.
Talon: "Yeah?"
Shawn Crowe: "Got some unpleasant news once we got back to town after Thanksgiving. You able to talk for a minute?"
Casting a cursory glance over her shoulder, seeing the silhouettes of her brother and husband through the bus's tinted windows, she turns to facing forward again and replies.
Talon: "...what's going on, Shawn? Does it have to do with..."
Shawn Crowe: "Big time."
Talon curses under her breath, a hand going to her face.
Shawn Crowe: "I don't have time to go into full detail right now, but it's exactly as bad as you think it is. I'm assuming you and Sentinel will be rolling back to town in a couple days?"
Talon: "Yeah, we're swinging home for a day or two to unwind before heading back out to Colorado. The bus is done so we're taking Cheyenne with us and probably picking up our old partners along the way. Why, you want me to send Sentinel down your way?"
Shawn Crowe: "Not this time. That's what I called about; I've been asked to keep him as far from this situation as possible for his sake and that of everyone involved."
Where concern once rested on Talon's features, there now lies a mix of irritation and surprise.
Talon: "What's that supposed to mean, Shawn?"
Shawn Crowe: "I don't like it, either, but I see the sense in it."
Talon: "He's going to be pissed if he finds out. He doesn't like secrets."
It's Shawn's turn to register some irritation from his end of the conversation, though it's obviously heard instead of seen.
Shawn Crowe: "None of us do. Secrets get people hurt. They cause people to lose their lives. Same as we have to keep him out of the loop on this, you have to keep on doing what your doing on your end."
Talon: "...what I'm doing is another matter entirely."
Shawn Crowe: "Potato, potato, sis. I'm just asking you to understand our situation while trying to understand yours. Look, I have to get off here...we've got a run to do. I'll call you in a few days and let you know if anything's changed."
Talon sighs and nods, muttering into the phone as she hears either Alex or Sentinel exiting the bus.
Talon: "You be careful, hear me?"
Shawn Crowe: "Will do."
Alex comes around and puts a hand on his sister's shoulder as she tucks the phone back into her pocket, affecting a more genial expression before Alex lays eyes on her formerly-worried countenance.
Alex: "Come on, sis, you gotta see this thing. I'll help your massively-quiet husband get his bike loaded up while you browse."
It's hard to argue with her twin's enthusiasm, and Talon smiles at him, nodding as she takes his arm and walks around to the other side of the bus with him. The scene goes to black a few moments later and cuts to a scene a little over a week earlier. The Dead Men sit or stand as the case may be, impatiently awaiting the arrival of someone known only as 'Kage' up to this point. Outside the chapel on the third floor of the shop that serves as their base for lack of a better name, Shawn sits back on the old sofa, grinding out the latest of several cigarette butts in the steadily-filling ashtray. Darius and Frederick sit at a nearby table, going over some paperwork if appearances don't decieve. Rory is pacing back and forth while Antonio is near the north window on his phone.
Downstairs, a car is heard pulling in and shutting off, a door opening and closing. A buzz sounds in short order and Rory, getting the nod from Shawn, presses the button on the intercom.
Rory McCall: "Who's there?"
A partially-garbled voice, accented in an unfamiliar way, answers back.
Kage: "It's Kage. Open up...I can't be seen around this place."
Rory remotely unlocks the front door before backing away from the door to sit on the arm of the sofa. Five sets of eyes watch the door as footsteps approach and as it opens to reveal a small man of Oriental descent. The simple black suit and white shirt he wears seems to be worn a little bigger than is necessary. Despite this, tattoos peek out from beneath the sleeves, running up Kage's hands a bit. The same is the case at his neck where the high collar doesn't hide all of the ink. He takes off his eurotrash sunglasses and tucks them into his breast pocket, running his hands through his slicked, pulled-back hair as a deep breath escapes him. After a moment to look over the collected group, he centers on Shawn.
Shawn Crowe: "Good to see some things don't change."
Kage: "Fuckin' bite me, Crowe."
A couple of the Dead Men chuckle at the exchange, including Shawn. Kage grins slightly but the expression doesn't last.
Kage: "Let's skip the bullshit. You know why I asked to meet you guys here."
Darius Edwards: "Something about Robert Sasaki, right?"
Kage: "Yeah. You guys know he came back to town a couple years ago, right? Started a couple businesses nearby, tried to get his life back together after he was chased off?"
Glances are exchanged before the Dead Men nod almost in unison at the question. Kage has their full attention which, even though he seems to be on their side, doesn't seem to be the most comfortable place to be.
Kage: "Well, local cops got a call from him the other day about some vandalism. Couple broken windows, some spray paint...shit you'd usually peg on a bunch of punk-ass teens lookin' for a thrill, right?"
Shawn Crowe: "...so?"
Kage: "So apparently it wasn't that simple. Couple people who I keep up with for business reasons..."
Frederick snorts under his breath, getting a glare from Kage that hardly looks threatening but still gets the scarred Dead Man to quiet for the moment.
Kage: "...are sayin' they seen some of my old, ah...running buddies...lurkin' around. Mostly hittin' the casino and some of the bars, but that ain't as important as the fact that they're here. Again."
Shawn Crowe: "Why?"
Kage shrugs, using a kerchief from his pocket to clean the lenses of his shades, treating them as though they're worth a couple hundred. It's probably closer to a couple tens.
Kage: "Fuck if I know, but I'm guessin' old grudges. My people ain't known for letting shit slide, as you guys and your recently-returned brother know all too well."
There's a murmur that passes through the room as the 'recently-returned brother' is referenced and Shawn gets to his feet, motioning for a little calm amongst his fellows. They do, but the tension in the immediate vicinity has doubled in mere moments.
Shawn Crowe: "As we ALL know. Get to the point, Kage."
Pocketing the sunglasses, Kage holds up both hands, fingers manicured and lined with rings, as though trying to hold off some kind of violence on his person.
Kage: "I'm gettin' there!"
Taking a moment to compose himself, thankful inwardly that none of the bikers smack the gel out of his hair, he continues.
Kage: "Anyway, this mornin' I get word from someone workin' with the cops that a few of Robert's employee's are missin' from their jobs. Two waitresses from his restaurant and the guy he has managing his little curio shop down the road. Nothing taken from the places though they were mussed up a little. Not much to go on, I'm afraid..."
Kage has the look of a child dying to spill a secret, which has Shawn rolling his eyes.
Shawn Crowe: "Yeah, but you got somethin', I bet."
Kage: "Couldn't get my hands on tapes from the cameras, but I managed to score a few stills."
Retrieving an envelope from his jacket, he passes it to the president, who opens the yellow sleeve and retrieves a few pictures. It only takes a couple moments of perusing before his eyes are back on Kage.
Shawn Crowe: "And?"
Kage: "Cops around here aren't equipped to deal with this sort of thing and the Council doesn't give a shit as long as it doesn't affect the casino. You guys are the only ones to look into it and do something about it."
Shawn Crowe: "You got what we need to make that happen?"
Kage reaches for another envelope but before he does he looks around the room curiously. Shawn raises a brow but soon shows his impatience. Kage meets his eyes but this time doesn't quail as he had previously.
Kage: "The, ah...big fella...he isn't here, is he?"
Shawn Crowe: "What does that have to do at with anything?"
Kage: "I'm instructed by Robert himself to make sure he's not involved. Old grudges and all that. He doesn't want this situation getting worse."
Shawn Crowe: "...which is fucking stupid considering that Sentinel is the best man to be on this job all considered."
The smaller man smirks and it makes him look utterly unlikable. He didn't have much going for him to begin with, though.
Kage: "So that's what he's callin' himself these days, huh? Robert and his family still call him somethin' else..."
Shawn Crowe: "Thin ice, Kage. I don't care what they think of him. The man's our brother and rides with us as such. Insulting him is insulting all of us."
Kage: "Hey, like it or not, it's the truth. If you want to take this job, and don't play as if you don't need what Robert's payin' to keep this shit going, 'Sentinel' needs to stay on the outside of it. If you got a problem with that, I'm sure we can find someone else..."
Antonio pushes off the wall but Shawn holds his arm out to stop him from throtting Kage, which is quite obviously his intent. Frederick rises as well, but instead goes to Shawn and beckons his attention for a moment. The two whisper to one another briefly before Shawn, grudgingly, turns back to Kage.
Shawn Crowe: "Fine. He stays out of this until the job's done. But it can't stay that way forever...we all know it."
Finishing handing off the packet to Shawn, Kage shrugs and replaces his sunglasses with a bit more smugness than is necessary.
Kage: "Hey, whatever happens happens, man. Personally, I don't want to run into him myself. He'd probably try to tear my face off soon as he saw me."
Shawn Crowe: "He does have a problem with skeevy, wannabe gangsters talking shit in his general vicinity."
Kage: "Hey, that hurts, man. I put that life behind me."
Shawn Crowe: "But kept the wardrobe."
Kage: "Hardy-fuckin'-har. Look, I have to get out of here before I'm seen. You know how to reach me when this shit's done. No sooner than that, though. Appearances and all."
Kage leaves before his welcome is overstayed and once his car pulls off, Shawn sits back down as the rest of the club watches him in an anticipatory fashion. He meets their gazes one at a time before sighing, responding to the stares.
Shawn Crowe: "Even if they hadn't requested that Sentinel stay out of this shit, we'd have to keep him out on general principle. He's trying to get his professional life back together and throwing him in the middle of this hurricane we're about to wander into...it'd just make things harder. Talon already doesn't like him having to work with us on some of these jobs and something that involves..."
He stops short of speaking of it, but the point is made.
Shawn Crowe: "...let's just keep this on a need-to-know basis, all right? I'll call Talon myself and let her know what's going on. Better that she's the one directing him away from us till everything dies down. We all in agreement on that?"
The rest of the club nods slowly, though their expression indicate that keeping their brother out of the loop doesn't sit well at all, especially considering the friendships and his standing in the club. There's nothing to be done about it, however, as tends to be the case with matters of business. Once more we cut to black and return moments later to what must be the interior of the new wheels acquired recently from Talon's twin brother, Alex. Sitting on a couch-like bench in the midsection of the bus's interior, Sentinel is leaned forward with his hands clasped and pressed against his brow. His gray eyes are closed and his black hair hangs loose, masking the rest of his features. The scenery, what of it there is beyond rocks and sand, whizzes by with Alex at the wheel, the sounds of Celldweller emitting from the radio up front.
The view tilts and becomes fuzzy from moment to moment, with muttered epithets of agitation in Talon's voice emit from out of sight. Presumably the portable camera is being a bitch and a half (her words, not ours) as she tries to set it up to record. But in due time, only a few moments for us thankfully, she gets a clear shot of the Silent Destroyer and steps into the frame herself. Tight black jeans and a black baby tee that reads "Keep Silent and Destroy" in the style typical of the more well-known memes of the day hugs to her athletic figure as she perches on the table to Sentinel's left. She balances herself easily with a hand on his broad back between his shoulders, a gesture that doesn't shift him one iota.
Talon: "Ah, Joshua...it's always just one way with him, isn't it?"
She turns her emerald gaze upon Sentinel, whose shoulders shift slightly as if he's shrugging...the only response he gives. Yet it's enough to make Talon smile sweetly. Sweetly and wickedly.
Talon: "You point out all the reasons why, you give them a clear out so that they can turn around and walk away without losing face...and they'd rather, instead, play the role of the out-of-control semi skidding on black ice. They swerve and sway, panic taking over as neither brakes nor steering bring them out of their undesirable charge and, instead, make things worse. And we all know what happens after that, don't we?"
The smile disappears, Talon smacking one palm into the other with a loud, slapping sound.
Talon: "They smash into something or someone, the sudden stop doing damage to all sides. Sometimes a fatal amount of damage. It's too late for him to pull himself out of his careening path as it carries him ever closer to a grisly, violent end. But he doesn't get to call foul on us because, after all, we offered him an out, didn't we?"
The slightest of nods is given by the Silent Destroyer, who otherwise hasn't moved. Talon carries on, speaking more to him than to the camera and Sentinel's Cataclysm opponent.
Talon: "A strap match. I suppose that was Olivier's last-minute brainchild to make your match match up with the rest. Is there precedence for connecting you to the so-called Dark Messiah by about ten feet of rawhide so that you can beat one another like dogs till the mat is stained red? Has such an object ever come into play in either of your messages like this? Or are we to be made different for the sake of being different, for the effect of being just like every other contest on the card? Such a strange little twist that is. But we hardly mind, Olivier. My Destroyer is plenty creative enough to punish someone like Joshua McBride with the ideas already percolating in his mind long before you made the card public..."
She muses to herself for a moment, once more leaning against her Destroyer as he sits like a statue.
Talon: "...but if you want to give him freer reign, a broader range of implements with which to deliver physical malice, we shall not argue."
At this, Sentinel shifts slightly. Talon notices and sits up, watching him curiously as he reaches out of frame to gather something. What he pulls into view is a broad leather strap, perhaps two inches wide and a good quarter-inch thick. The leather is smooth, obviously recently oiled and manipulated to give it ultimate pliability. Talon laughs softly, seeming to know just how utterly cliche this is, to have Sentinel showing off the very thing that will keep him connected to Joshua McBride in a little over a week, but she means to enjoy it regardless.
Sentinel draws the strap taut between his powerful hands, pushing the gripped ends of the strap together to make both sides bow up in the middle before drawing it straight suddenly, making a sharp snapping sound that echoes through the inside of the coach. Talon licks her lips eagerly as she watches, continuing without turning her eyes back to the camera.
Talon: "Over and over and over again, Joshua..."
Her tone of voice takes a turn for the sultry...
Talon: "...until you're rent unto threads and torn flesh, until crimson oozes out drop by drop while you invariably laugh at the insanity of it all."
She shakes her head, affecting a normalized tone again.
Talon: "Everything is goddamned funny to you, isn't it? You get battered into the canvas or the floor, beaten like the animal you play at not being, and have the gall to laugh in the face of those who rightfully pound on you. Their pain makes you smile. Your pain makes you laugh. I wonder if it's not all some smokescreen, your way of convincing yourself that it doesn't hurt, that you'll be fine once you can get to a place where no one can see.
There, you can break down and let the ragged breaths in and out, wincing as salves and bandages are applied to your wounds, letting out the human side of you that, as much you might hate to admit it, still exists somewhere. You are no Messiah, McBride. You're just a man who failed at his duty and as a result was consumed by his own darkness. You lash out at the world, your former followers and any who cross your path as though, somehow, your attempts to torture them will offer you vindication. But there's no absolution for monsters like you. And I should know, same as my Destroyer."
She looks fondly at Sentinel, though with a little sadness, perhaps a bit of worry. The strap rests across his lap, his palms pressed against it to keep it from slipping off. The Silent Destroyer stares at the implement like a hawk watches a rabbit and, for a moment, the grinding of his teeth is actually audible. He's a cross word or evil thought away from unleashing on the first enemy he sees. It is thankful, then, that he is among those who care and who keep that violence at bay.
Talon: "You're consumed by this caricature of a demon you try to pass yourself off as. Far be it from me to condemn someone for waxing poetic when speaking of how they plan to decimate bodies and ruin souls, but in our case that manner of delivery comes from a poetic heart. In your case it sounds like a man who's seen too many overacted horror films while trying to put a face to the creature that haunts their dreams.
But you have far more to worry about than nightmarish images, Joshua. I ask you again: take a long, hard look at the force of nature that sits by me."
There's no need to overstate the obvious; Sentinel is on a hair-trigger and looking for a reason. His head lifts just a little though his eyes remain downcast, galvanized on the weapon in his grip, and we can just make out the thin smile curling his pale lips through the curtain of black.
Talon, looking upon this herself, is taken aback for just a moment. An expression of worry creeps across her face but is gone as soon as she blinks. She mentally shakes herself out of it with nary a physical indicator save a return to the expression and note of confidence once again.
Talon: "You love war. You want war. Well, motherfucker, you're getting your goddamn war, I promise you that!"
Something beyond righteous fury lingers in her voice but Talon's delivery by association buries it before it comes to the fore. She throws herself into her message, not for a moment letting up as she seems to osmose the ferocity welling within Sentinel and release it through her pontification pertaining to the Dark Messiah.
Talon: "This Destroyer, he who has lain low champions, thugs, pretenders, veterans, rookies and legends alike is coming for YOU! There shall be a reckoning, Joshua McBride, as we give you the vaunted war you claim to crave in such a means that even your twisted nightmares could not prepare you! Your former followers will cringe and cower in the wake of the violence, retching upon seeing the state that we leave you in, both disgusted and fearing for their lives knowing that, in due time, my Destroyer shall break them as well!
But you...oh, don't think we don't know that you're not eating this up! You're reveling in the fact that you have my Destroyer, my husband..."
She punctuates that word, throwing her head back to toss fiery strands over her shoulder so she can properly glare into the camera.
Talon: "...ready to choke every last worthless breath out of your body! Under some wrongheaded notion that putting this monster of a man into a rage will somehow open the doors to your quasi-cerebreal approach, you have forgotten to consider whether you can survive his violence long enough to put such a plan into motion! But do you know the worst part of it all, Joshua? Do you?!"
She's practically frothing, yet somehow ratchets herself down to a whisper, still staring daggers at the camera.
Talon: "The worst part is that there will be no excuses when all is said and done. No Dead Men distracting you by holding your now-former lackeys at bay. No Priestess failing to uphold her duties to her Father. No Doublemint-Twin Angels protecting you from yourself as well as your opponent."
Talon licks her lips as Sentinel suddenly throws his head back, black hair flying behind him as he, now, stares into the cameras as well.
Talon: "You will have to fight, to survive, on your own. Against an undefeated monster wielding a weapon designed to flay the flesh and sting a man to his very soul. You are not an infallible creature, nor are you unstoppable. Sentinel's brethren, they're convinced that beating you down won't stop you. He'll just be back to his wicked ways again in due time, they say, thinking that you're someone better off left to hang by a noose of your own tying.
But even they, Joshua, don't know what my Destroyer can do in a state like this."
Reaching down to cup his chin, Talon urges Sentinel's attention to raise toward her. Eyes of stone meet those of the clearest green, the rapport between the two speaking volumes even though neither, for several moments, says a single word. Unable to take her eyes from Sentinel, Talon's final words come with her attention locked on the Silence Behind the Violence.
Talon: "You had your chance. All that remains now is violence and, ultimately, the end of your pitful reign of terror in the UWA. I wonder, if when you descend into the Pit and look into the eyes of the Devil himself..."
Again with that sweetly violent smile on her face...
Talon: "...if he'll laugh along with you at the hilarity of it all."
Without turning away, Talon reaches over to shut off the camera, bringing the forceful message to a close.
