Post by Sentinel on Jan 23, 2015 10:55:51 GMT -6
It’s just a couple days removed from Monday Night Mayhem and Sentinel looks about as calm as someone in his situation can be, all circumstances considered. Over the last several weeks he’s been put through the wringer against top-flight opponents and taken more than his share of lumps, some of them prompting scares from those close to the Silent Destroyer. Yet despite some fading bruises and other visibly superficial wounds, he looks like the same monster who’s run roughshod over UWA since the moment he set foot in the fledgling promotion a little over a year ago. As we first see him he’s walking across the main floor of a casino, the Excalibur in Las Vegas to be precise, as a number of heads turn to watch him pass.
It isn’t just women, either, though they’re the majority. People seem to clear a path by default even though nothing in the big man’s manner bespeaks arrogance or a threatening nature. His long black hair is pulled into a tight braid that drops past his shoulders, that massive, muscular torso covered in a button-up black silk shirt. Jeans and steel-toed boots complete the simple (yet appealing, according to the females) look as he moves past slot machines and roulette tables alike, heading for the bar on the other side of the establishment. He finds his way onto a stool and waits for the bartender to come round. When he does, there’s a bit of a double-take on the older gentleman’s part for obvious reasons.
Bartender: ”Wow…you’re a HELL of a lot bigger in person.”
Sentinel chuckles quietly at the comment, nodding politely to the man. It’s something he hears fairly often.
Bartender: ”What’ll you have?”
Sentinel: ”Crown and coke on the rocks, please.”
Bartender: ”Comin’ up.”
A woman at the other end of the bar eyes the Silent Destroyer from a distance with no small amount of interest, but either Sentinel doesn’t notice her or he’s pointedly avoiding the stare. He offers a glance after a few moments when her stare continues unabated and gives her a slight nod of acknowledgement, whereupon his drink is placed before him.
Sentinel: ”Obliged.”
Going back to his rounds, the bartender leaves Sentinel to his beverage, which he sips quietly with his eyes on the television above the bar. A promo comes up for Tragic Engagement which draws an intense expression out of the giant, taking his full attention for a few moments. During that spell of focus, the scene shifts back several days, to the morning after Sentinel left his Valley Forge home to confront his brothers in the Dead Men. Talon, awakening alone in bed, has a look of confusion first before she sees the letter on the nightstand. The lump in her throat which she tries to force back down is painfully obvious but she nevertheless takes up the letter and reads it quietly to herself.
Talon: ”’I know what’s been hidden from me for the past several weeks now. As much as part of me thinks I should be angry with you and everyone else who’s a part of this, I can’t be despite the feelings of betrayal. Deep down, I feel that you were all trying to do what’s right for everyone. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. I don’t know what’s going to go down when I get to the clubhouse but I’m not expecting it to end well. One way or another, I’ll settle things or at least put them on the road to a proper conclusion. As for us, I’ll see you in Colorado for Mayhem on Monday night. We’ll have our own talk then.’”
Talon goes over the letter a second time, reading more with her eyes than her lips, before she sets it aside. Alex comes up to the door at about the point that she puts the letter down and meets her eye. A whole conversation passes between the two before Talon’s twin speaks up openly.
Alex: ”Everything all right, or is that a stupid question?”
Talon: ”I’m hoping they will be. He must have left after we fell asleep last night. Says he’ll see us at the arena, but…”
Alex: ”…but you don’t intend to wait that long. Should I go fire up the bus then?”
Alex has his sister pegged. She nods and slips out of bed, moving directly to the closet to get her bag and start packing some things. He looks after her for a few moments, seeming to want to ask more, but thinks better of it and heads off to get their ride going. Shifting back to Sentinel, he’s almost finished off his first drink and that dark-haired man-killer at the other side of the bar is still giving him looks. As he puts the drained-except-for-ice glass back down on the napkin, he signals the bartender for another. Around that point, the woman gets up and saunters over to him, her red satin dress hugging every damn curve she possesses as though it were molded to her body.
She steps up next to his seat and eyes him with a winning smile, finally drawing Sentinel’s attention after a few moments.
Woman: ”This seat taken?”
Sentinel: ”Help yourself.”
He keeps his tone non-committal, accepting his second drink and taking a sip from it. The woman slides into the seat next to him, ordering a glass of chardonnay for herself before turning back to Sentinel to make an introduction.
Woman: ”My name’s Adrienne. I’m pretty sure I already know yours.”
Sentinel: ”Given or ring?”
Adrienne laughs lightly at his comment, watching him almost predatorily.
Adrienne: ”Ring, unless you’d be kind enough to change that.”
Sentinel: ”Don’t think we know each other well enough to be exchanging that kind of private information, but I appreciate the interest.”
Adrienne: ”Well that’s a shame, but perhaps I’ll earn that in time. So what brings you out to Sin City?”
Sentinel: ”Some pleasure before business.”
Adrienne: ”And what DOES a destroyer like you do for fun? Seems to me that with muscles like these…”
She cavalierly reaches out and runs her fingertips down Sentinel’s left arm, which causes his expression to tighten imperceptibly.
Adrienne: ”…the only fun you’d favor would involve a good, old-fashioned fight.”
Sentinel: ”You’d be surprised.”
Adrienne: ”Somehow I don’t doubt that.”
The rest of the Crown and coke stands no chance; Sentinel puts it down in one large gulp, his expression twisting slightly at the potency of the spirits and how hard he doused his stomach with them. Adrienne meanwhile sips her wine, having less than clean things on her mind, no doubt. Sentinel turns her way after declining a third beverage, sizing her up as calmly as he can.
Sentinel: ”As a matter of fact, I was about to sit in on a game of Texas Hold ‘Em…”
His attention shifts over the woman’s shoulder and his brow quirks slightly at something in his line of sight before he returns his attention to Adrienne half a second later.
Sentinel: ”…if you’d care to tag along.”
Adrienne: ”Need a good luck charm, do you? I can certainly provide…in more ways than one.”
He’s enough of a gentleman not to laugh in her face but only barely hides the smirk.
Sentinel: ”Sure…we’ll go with that.”
Sentinel rises and heads in the direction of one of the card tables with the wine-carrying lady following at his side. Small wonder she doesn’t try to latch onto his powerful arm but he divests himself of that possibility by making a task of fishing into his pocket for cash. As he takes up the last empty seat at the table, a few of the other players look him over and whisper amongst themselves but for reasons other than his identity.
He lays a grand on the table in hundreds, purchasing a tray of chips, then antes up for the first game. Adrienne stands behind his chair, sipping her wine and watching him go. The first game or two sees him fold relatively early with fair-sized pots going to the winners but, gradually, he starts playing a little more aggressively. Nervousness washes over the other players in time, most of them avoiding Sentinel’s gaze even when he’s just glancing at their cards.
The feeling-out process ends abruptly when he takes home two hands in a row, nearly doubling his original thousand. Adrienne is quite obviously impressed with what she sees but Sentinel’s off in another world, his poker face as intimidating as his game face for his matches. Come to think of it, they’re pretty much the same! He loses the next time round, and comes close twice more before folding each time, yet as a particularly animated player decides to shoot the works in the fourth game beyond Sentinel’s first two wins, he cleans the guy out. Declining another game, Sentinel collects nearly three grand including his original thousand and bids the other players good night after an hour of play, which relieves them greatly.
Adrienne: ”Do you do that all the time?”
Sentinel: ”Do what?”
Again he seems to see something over the woman’s shoulder, though this time she steps in as he’s briefly distracted and manages to snare his arm within both of hers, all but leaning on him as he walks to the cash counter.
Adrienne: ”Intimidate people into dropping it all on the table.”
Sentinel: ”The game’s all about reading people, listening to the way they speak and even the way they breathe. If you’re patient and take a little time to observe, what you lose in the process can be more than made back. It’s more of an art than a science as far as I’m concerned. Same goes for wrestling.”
Adrienne: ”Seeing you in action, I’d have to agree.”
Cashing in, Sentinel pushes aside a $100 chip for the woman at the counter, accepting the rest of the cash and tucking it into his wallet. Adrienne has not let go of him yet, which doesn’t seem to agitate Sentinel. It’s as if he’s just waiting for the right moment.
And that moment is quick in coming.
Adrienne: ”So, what do you say we head back to the bar…or perhaps to my room upstairs? Or yours, if you prefer?”
Sentinel: ”Despite the obvious reason why not…”
He holds up his left hand, showing the gold wedding band on it.
Sentinel: ”…you really don’t have time for that.”
Adrienne: ”Now it’s YOU who might be surprised. And I don’t see the missus anywhere right now, so how about you live a little? I can feel the stress coursing through you.”
Talon: ”You’re about to feel a LOT more than that.”
Adrienne is the only one surprised to hear the anger-laced voice behind her. Sentinel had seen Talon before they even left the bar, declining to say as much to Adrienne. Talon grabs the woman by her bare shoulder and jerks her away from Sentinel, easily causing her to let go of the man’s arm before she’s eye-to-chest with an angry Irishwoman.
Adrienne: ”Who the hell do you think YOU are?!”
Talon: ”The only woman who gets to lay hands on him like that.”
There’s no time for a smart retort before Talon wraps her right hand around Adrienne’s throat and shoves her against the wall adjacent to the cash counter. Pushing upward, the woman in red is soon completely off her feet with Talon glaring murderously at her while Sentinel stands by quietly, making no move to help or hinder.
Talon: ”Mind telling me what she was doing leaning on you, baby?”
Sentinel: ”Being obstinate. You were watching from the moment she came over at the bar. You know exactly what happened.”
Talon: ”Yeah, and I didn’t see you resisting her much!”
Sentinel: ”You didn’t see me egging her on, either.”
Talon: ”So that makes it all right?!”
Around this point, Adrienne’s face is a shade of red comparable to her dress. Talon turns back to her, fingernails still digging into the flesh of the woman’s neck before she shoves her back against the wall hard and lets her drop. Adrienne ends up on her ass, coughing and trying to get her breath back, staring weakly yet defiantly up at Talon. As for the Angel of Sin, she seems to be trying to decide whether or not to kick the interloper’s head off her shoulders and against one of the nearby slot machines.
Sentinel: ”Are you done?”
Talon whirls on Sentinel at that point, ready to unleash a wifely harangue. Adrienne tries to scamper away but Talon puts a foot on her ankle, making the woman squeak and worry more about the joint being snapped than getting to safety.
Sentinel: ”I came here to relax after what went down at the clubhouse so I’d be in the right mind for the match this Monday. She came on strong and didn’t take the hint. I saw you and figured you’d be in this kind of mood and decided to let her dig her own grave. That you’d think for a hot moment I’d do anything with a tramp like that is pretty insulting.”
Adrienne: ”Who’re you calling a tramp?!”
Talon: ”Shut your ball-washer, tramp, before I close it permanently.”
Sentinel’s words get under Talon’s skin, which is what he was after. He grabs her by the wrist, pulling her forward and against his large frame before she can properly resist. For a second, he stares down at Adrienne before inclining his chin in the direction of the main floor.
Sentinel: ”Take a walk, girl. Make issue of this with anyone and I won’t stop my wife a second time.”
Despite the defiance on her face, Adrienne makes no such issue, instead focusing on getting to her feet with some amount of dignity before moving off as fast as her heels will allow. Talon, trying to wrench out from behind the powerful arm of her husband, finally stops and glares up at him.
Talon: ”So that was all for my benefit?!”
Sentinel: ”Can you convince me that you weren’t looking for a reason to start something with the first idiot who crossed your path?”
Talon: ”I’m this close to carrying that mood over to where you’re concerned, you big bastard!”
Sentinel: ”Thought so. We’ll continue this upstairs.”
Talon: ”Bet your ass on that.”
They’re shown walking off before the scene fades and proceeds to return to the aforementioned room above. Sentinel is the first one seen when the view reforms, sitting on the end of the king-sized bed in his jeans and nothing else. Another glass, presumably of the same drink he had downstairs, is cradled in his hand at a level just below half-full. He takes another sip as a door opens and closes in the background, Talon walking up to the bed and taking a knee on it behind him. She puts her hands with those fire-engine red nails on his bare shoulders, squeezing them both affectionately and therapeutically, making the big man close his stone-gray eyes in relaxation.
Dressed in nothing but a white silk robe that comes to maybe mid-thigh, her red hair darkened from the recently-finished shower, Talon soon loops her arms around him and rests her head between his shoulders, looking far more relaxed and content than some may think she should considering the events prior. Sentinel reaches up and puts his hand on hers as she nuzzles in closer, speaking softly.
Talon: ”What are you going to do about Robert and the others?”
Sentinel: ”Wait and see how the situation goes. Whether he likes it or not, and he doesn’t, I’m a part of this now. He can either let old ghosts rest or he can run away.”
Talon: ”What about the club?”
Sentinel: ”Much as it hurts to say it, they have to prove that I can trust them again after this. I’ll do what’s required of me, what’s right and all that…but I can’t forget what they’ve done.”
Her head moves as if she’s nodding before it lifts.
Talon: ”And Pauly?”
Sentinel: ”I already know what I’m going to say.”
Talon: ”You want to go it alone?”
Sentinel: ”…I need to. I can’t keep relying on you or Zachariah or whoever to do my talking before me just because I’m finding getting into the swing difficult. You and Alex will soon have your team going, and then there’s the other matter…”
Nodding again, Talon leans around to kiss his cheek, but he turns in time to make it a more proper kiss. After a second or two, they part.
Talon: ”Then I’ll wait for you here. Do what you need to.”
Giving a nod himself, Sentinel rises and leaves the room. The view changes to one from the portable camera, this time set up on a tripod near the windows overlooking Vegas from the Excalibur’s upper floors. Sentinel has a freshly-refilled drink in hand, leaning against the wall and letting his gaze fall upon the lit-up city lights. Without moving, he averts his eyes to the camera and begins.
Sentinel: ”I apologize if I sound arrogant here, Pauly, but I’m disappointed in you.”
Sentinel chooses his words carefully, thinking over each one as he speaks. He takes a sip from his drink and starts to roll the glass around in his hand, swirling the dark contents and making the ice clink against the vessel.
Sentinel: ”It’s good to see that a warrior’s heart still beats in your chest, that you’re aware of the gravity of our match, yet I’m still disappointed. It feels as if my words fell on deaf ears, and coming from someone who’s finding it hard to do this promo shit after so long of speaking through actions alone, that’s borderline insulting.”
He keeps his cool but sharp eyes note how his grip on the glass tightens for a moment.
Sentinel: ”I neither saw nor heard confidence or fire in your address. In their place was resignation and acceptance. That kind of attitude doesn’t win matches. In fact, it’s damn well beneath you, man. Even after all you’ve been through since the first time we clashed.
Where’s the Pauly from a year ago? Where’s the fire-breathing, whiskey-fueled hellhound who came at me without fear or favor in our debut match? You didn’t give a damn how big your opponent was, their reputation or anything about them. You were always looking for a good fight and to kick the hell out of the other guy. Someone like that should’ve been wearing gold by now.
Don’t mean to preach to you here…I’m just having trouble understanding what the deal is. Outwardly you haven’t changed much other than the fact that you’ve stepped up your training and, I note happily, that you’re taking your wrestling a lot more seriously. It’s what’s inside you that’s bothering me. I don’t think anyone else is seeing that but me. Got a feeling that if Shonn or Aerynn did, they’d say something themselves.”
Taking a longer draw from his glass, Sentinel gives his words a few moments to sink in, both for Pauly and himself, before continuing. He makes an effort to speak a little more calmly, or at least to take some of the edge out of his words.
Sentinel: ”Right now, word is that I’m leading in points. I’m the closest I’ve been to a title shot in a year. That’s something I ought to be proud of, yet I know better than to give in to that feeling. It breeds complacency. Keep that aversion to pride in mind when I tell you this:”
Steeling himself a bit, Sentinel puts the drink down on the nearby table and pushes off of the wall, standing to his full height.
Sentinel: ”There’s a reason why I’m undefeated in one-on-one matches here, and it has nothing to do with my opponents’ shortcomings, preferential booking or any other excuse someone might dredge up. It’s because I see things for what they are, not what they’re made out to be by someone else. I have perfect clarity…”
He taps his temple with his right index finger.
Sentinel: ”…and I put it to use every time I step into that ring or in front of a camera. Beyond the sometimes-justified arrogance of Silver Baron, the psychological warfare of Joshua McBride or spin-doctoring of Vince Jones, I see them for what they are: human. Breakable, fallible, imperfect creatures that are vulnerable despite what their words and actions might imply. No matter how much they put on a show and try to make the world think otherwise, they can’t fool these eyes.
Part of that logic, though, is that I recognize the fact that I’m the same. I’m human just like they are, just like you are. I don’t believe their hype OR mine. Yeah, I’ve yet to be pinned or made to tap out here in the UWA, but that can’t last forever. Eventually someone, maybe even you this Monday, will end that little streak. I’ve already accepted that, which isn’t to say I’m not going to fight to hold inevitability at bay as long as possible.”
The Silent Destroyer cracks a small smile at that beneath his gray stare.
Sentinel: ”Humility, one of the most potent virtues in existence. It is essentially the awareness of your place and duty in the universe. People who have only heard my wife deliver my messages would think I didn’t have any at all…”
Talon is heard to belt out from elsewhere in the room something to effect of ‘I heard that!’ which makes Sentinel chuckle quietly. But he’s right back on point.
Sentinel: ”…but they’d be wrong.”
All mirth disappears from his manner.
Sentinel: ”It isn’t my place to tell you who or what you are, Pauly, even though I’ve sorta done just that over the last several minutes. But if doing so wakes up the beast inside you and makes you bring the fire and pain to Mayhem, I consider it worth it even if it costs me a necessary win and the lead in the points. Remember well that I said I respected you? This has a lot to do with that.
At the risk of getting preachy again, though, I’ll leave it at this: if you step into that ring with me as the man I saw a few days ago on television, I’m going to demolish you. Not because I can or some other arrogant bullshit, but because you left me with no other choice. If it takes that to get the old Pauly back, I’m willing to go the distance and make our last two matches look like handshakes.”
He moves forward and crouches down so he’s eye-level with the camera, so that there’s no escaping his gaze.
Sentinel: ”No threats, no hyperbolic bullshit, no bragging. I get the Irish hellhound across the ring from me Monday night, or I crack you open and drag him out yelping and screaming. Either way, you and your compatriots will thank me for it. See you at Mayhem.”
Rising back up, Sentinel walks around the camera and shuts it off, bringing the promo to a close.
It isn’t just women, either, though they’re the majority. People seem to clear a path by default even though nothing in the big man’s manner bespeaks arrogance or a threatening nature. His long black hair is pulled into a tight braid that drops past his shoulders, that massive, muscular torso covered in a button-up black silk shirt. Jeans and steel-toed boots complete the simple (yet appealing, according to the females) look as he moves past slot machines and roulette tables alike, heading for the bar on the other side of the establishment. He finds his way onto a stool and waits for the bartender to come round. When he does, there’s a bit of a double-take on the older gentleman’s part for obvious reasons.
Bartender: ”Wow…you’re a HELL of a lot bigger in person.”
Sentinel chuckles quietly at the comment, nodding politely to the man. It’s something he hears fairly often.
Bartender: ”What’ll you have?”
Sentinel: ”Crown and coke on the rocks, please.”
Bartender: ”Comin’ up.”
A woman at the other end of the bar eyes the Silent Destroyer from a distance with no small amount of interest, but either Sentinel doesn’t notice her or he’s pointedly avoiding the stare. He offers a glance after a few moments when her stare continues unabated and gives her a slight nod of acknowledgement, whereupon his drink is placed before him.
Sentinel: ”Obliged.”
Going back to his rounds, the bartender leaves Sentinel to his beverage, which he sips quietly with his eyes on the television above the bar. A promo comes up for Tragic Engagement which draws an intense expression out of the giant, taking his full attention for a few moments. During that spell of focus, the scene shifts back several days, to the morning after Sentinel left his Valley Forge home to confront his brothers in the Dead Men. Talon, awakening alone in bed, has a look of confusion first before she sees the letter on the nightstand. The lump in her throat which she tries to force back down is painfully obvious but she nevertheless takes up the letter and reads it quietly to herself.
Talon: ”’I know what’s been hidden from me for the past several weeks now. As much as part of me thinks I should be angry with you and everyone else who’s a part of this, I can’t be despite the feelings of betrayal. Deep down, I feel that you were all trying to do what’s right for everyone. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. I don’t know what’s going to go down when I get to the clubhouse but I’m not expecting it to end well. One way or another, I’ll settle things or at least put them on the road to a proper conclusion. As for us, I’ll see you in Colorado for Mayhem on Monday night. We’ll have our own talk then.’”
Talon goes over the letter a second time, reading more with her eyes than her lips, before she sets it aside. Alex comes up to the door at about the point that she puts the letter down and meets her eye. A whole conversation passes between the two before Talon’s twin speaks up openly.
Alex: ”Everything all right, or is that a stupid question?”
Talon: ”I’m hoping they will be. He must have left after we fell asleep last night. Says he’ll see us at the arena, but…”
Alex: ”…but you don’t intend to wait that long. Should I go fire up the bus then?”
Alex has his sister pegged. She nods and slips out of bed, moving directly to the closet to get her bag and start packing some things. He looks after her for a few moments, seeming to want to ask more, but thinks better of it and heads off to get their ride going. Shifting back to Sentinel, he’s almost finished off his first drink and that dark-haired man-killer at the other side of the bar is still giving him looks. As he puts the drained-except-for-ice glass back down on the napkin, he signals the bartender for another. Around that point, the woman gets up and saunters over to him, her red satin dress hugging every damn curve she possesses as though it were molded to her body.
She steps up next to his seat and eyes him with a winning smile, finally drawing Sentinel’s attention after a few moments.
Woman: ”This seat taken?”
Sentinel: ”Help yourself.”
He keeps his tone non-committal, accepting his second drink and taking a sip from it. The woman slides into the seat next to him, ordering a glass of chardonnay for herself before turning back to Sentinel to make an introduction.
Woman: ”My name’s Adrienne. I’m pretty sure I already know yours.”
Sentinel: ”Given or ring?”
Adrienne laughs lightly at his comment, watching him almost predatorily.
Adrienne: ”Ring, unless you’d be kind enough to change that.”
Sentinel: ”Don’t think we know each other well enough to be exchanging that kind of private information, but I appreciate the interest.”
Adrienne: ”Well that’s a shame, but perhaps I’ll earn that in time. So what brings you out to Sin City?”
Sentinel: ”Some pleasure before business.”
Adrienne: ”And what DOES a destroyer like you do for fun? Seems to me that with muscles like these…”
She cavalierly reaches out and runs her fingertips down Sentinel’s left arm, which causes his expression to tighten imperceptibly.
Adrienne: ”…the only fun you’d favor would involve a good, old-fashioned fight.”
Sentinel: ”You’d be surprised.”
Adrienne: ”Somehow I don’t doubt that.”
The rest of the Crown and coke stands no chance; Sentinel puts it down in one large gulp, his expression twisting slightly at the potency of the spirits and how hard he doused his stomach with them. Adrienne meanwhile sips her wine, having less than clean things on her mind, no doubt. Sentinel turns her way after declining a third beverage, sizing her up as calmly as he can.
Sentinel: ”As a matter of fact, I was about to sit in on a game of Texas Hold ‘Em…”
His attention shifts over the woman’s shoulder and his brow quirks slightly at something in his line of sight before he returns his attention to Adrienne half a second later.
Sentinel: ”…if you’d care to tag along.”
Adrienne: ”Need a good luck charm, do you? I can certainly provide…in more ways than one.”
He’s enough of a gentleman not to laugh in her face but only barely hides the smirk.
Sentinel: ”Sure…we’ll go with that.”
Sentinel rises and heads in the direction of one of the card tables with the wine-carrying lady following at his side. Small wonder she doesn’t try to latch onto his powerful arm but he divests himself of that possibility by making a task of fishing into his pocket for cash. As he takes up the last empty seat at the table, a few of the other players look him over and whisper amongst themselves but for reasons other than his identity.
He lays a grand on the table in hundreds, purchasing a tray of chips, then antes up for the first game. Adrienne stands behind his chair, sipping her wine and watching him go. The first game or two sees him fold relatively early with fair-sized pots going to the winners but, gradually, he starts playing a little more aggressively. Nervousness washes over the other players in time, most of them avoiding Sentinel’s gaze even when he’s just glancing at their cards.
The feeling-out process ends abruptly when he takes home two hands in a row, nearly doubling his original thousand. Adrienne is quite obviously impressed with what she sees but Sentinel’s off in another world, his poker face as intimidating as his game face for his matches. Come to think of it, they’re pretty much the same! He loses the next time round, and comes close twice more before folding each time, yet as a particularly animated player decides to shoot the works in the fourth game beyond Sentinel’s first two wins, he cleans the guy out. Declining another game, Sentinel collects nearly three grand including his original thousand and bids the other players good night after an hour of play, which relieves them greatly.
Adrienne: ”Do you do that all the time?”
Sentinel: ”Do what?”
Again he seems to see something over the woman’s shoulder, though this time she steps in as he’s briefly distracted and manages to snare his arm within both of hers, all but leaning on him as he walks to the cash counter.
Adrienne: ”Intimidate people into dropping it all on the table.”
Sentinel: ”The game’s all about reading people, listening to the way they speak and even the way they breathe. If you’re patient and take a little time to observe, what you lose in the process can be more than made back. It’s more of an art than a science as far as I’m concerned. Same goes for wrestling.”
Adrienne: ”Seeing you in action, I’d have to agree.”
Cashing in, Sentinel pushes aside a $100 chip for the woman at the counter, accepting the rest of the cash and tucking it into his wallet. Adrienne has not let go of him yet, which doesn’t seem to agitate Sentinel. It’s as if he’s just waiting for the right moment.
And that moment is quick in coming.
Adrienne: ”So, what do you say we head back to the bar…or perhaps to my room upstairs? Or yours, if you prefer?”
Sentinel: ”Despite the obvious reason why not…”
He holds up his left hand, showing the gold wedding band on it.
Sentinel: ”…you really don’t have time for that.”
Adrienne: ”Now it’s YOU who might be surprised. And I don’t see the missus anywhere right now, so how about you live a little? I can feel the stress coursing through you.”
Talon: ”You’re about to feel a LOT more than that.”
Adrienne is the only one surprised to hear the anger-laced voice behind her. Sentinel had seen Talon before they even left the bar, declining to say as much to Adrienne. Talon grabs the woman by her bare shoulder and jerks her away from Sentinel, easily causing her to let go of the man’s arm before she’s eye-to-chest with an angry Irishwoman.
Adrienne: ”Who the hell do you think YOU are?!”
Talon: ”The only woman who gets to lay hands on him like that.”
There’s no time for a smart retort before Talon wraps her right hand around Adrienne’s throat and shoves her against the wall adjacent to the cash counter. Pushing upward, the woman in red is soon completely off her feet with Talon glaring murderously at her while Sentinel stands by quietly, making no move to help or hinder.
Talon: ”Mind telling me what she was doing leaning on you, baby?”
Sentinel: ”Being obstinate. You were watching from the moment she came over at the bar. You know exactly what happened.”
Talon: ”Yeah, and I didn’t see you resisting her much!”
Sentinel: ”You didn’t see me egging her on, either.”
Talon: ”So that makes it all right?!”
Around this point, Adrienne’s face is a shade of red comparable to her dress. Talon turns back to her, fingernails still digging into the flesh of the woman’s neck before she shoves her back against the wall hard and lets her drop. Adrienne ends up on her ass, coughing and trying to get her breath back, staring weakly yet defiantly up at Talon. As for the Angel of Sin, she seems to be trying to decide whether or not to kick the interloper’s head off her shoulders and against one of the nearby slot machines.
Sentinel: ”Are you done?”
Talon whirls on Sentinel at that point, ready to unleash a wifely harangue. Adrienne tries to scamper away but Talon puts a foot on her ankle, making the woman squeak and worry more about the joint being snapped than getting to safety.
Sentinel: ”I came here to relax after what went down at the clubhouse so I’d be in the right mind for the match this Monday. She came on strong and didn’t take the hint. I saw you and figured you’d be in this kind of mood and decided to let her dig her own grave. That you’d think for a hot moment I’d do anything with a tramp like that is pretty insulting.”
Adrienne: ”Who’re you calling a tramp?!”
Talon: ”Shut your ball-washer, tramp, before I close it permanently.”
Sentinel’s words get under Talon’s skin, which is what he was after. He grabs her by the wrist, pulling her forward and against his large frame before she can properly resist. For a second, he stares down at Adrienne before inclining his chin in the direction of the main floor.
Sentinel: ”Take a walk, girl. Make issue of this with anyone and I won’t stop my wife a second time.”
Despite the defiance on her face, Adrienne makes no such issue, instead focusing on getting to her feet with some amount of dignity before moving off as fast as her heels will allow. Talon, trying to wrench out from behind the powerful arm of her husband, finally stops and glares up at him.
Talon: ”So that was all for my benefit?!”
Sentinel: ”Can you convince me that you weren’t looking for a reason to start something with the first idiot who crossed your path?”
Talon: ”I’m this close to carrying that mood over to where you’re concerned, you big bastard!”
Sentinel: ”Thought so. We’ll continue this upstairs.”
Talon: ”Bet your ass on that.”
They’re shown walking off before the scene fades and proceeds to return to the aforementioned room above. Sentinel is the first one seen when the view reforms, sitting on the end of the king-sized bed in his jeans and nothing else. Another glass, presumably of the same drink he had downstairs, is cradled in his hand at a level just below half-full. He takes another sip as a door opens and closes in the background, Talon walking up to the bed and taking a knee on it behind him. She puts her hands with those fire-engine red nails on his bare shoulders, squeezing them both affectionately and therapeutically, making the big man close his stone-gray eyes in relaxation.
Dressed in nothing but a white silk robe that comes to maybe mid-thigh, her red hair darkened from the recently-finished shower, Talon soon loops her arms around him and rests her head between his shoulders, looking far more relaxed and content than some may think she should considering the events prior. Sentinel reaches up and puts his hand on hers as she nuzzles in closer, speaking softly.
Talon: ”What are you going to do about Robert and the others?”
Sentinel: ”Wait and see how the situation goes. Whether he likes it or not, and he doesn’t, I’m a part of this now. He can either let old ghosts rest or he can run away.”
Talon: ”What about the club?”
Sentinel: ”Much as it hurts to say it, they have to prove that I can trust them again after this. I’ll do what’s required of me, what’s right and all that…but I can’t forget what they’ve done.”
Her head moves as if she’s nodding before it lifts.
Talon: ”And Pauly?”
Sentinel: ”I already know what I’m going to say.”
Talon: ”You want to go it alone?”
Sentinel: ”…I need to. I can’t keep relying on you or Zachariah or whoever to do my talking before me just because I’m finding getting into the swing difficult. You and Alex will soon have your team going, and then there’s the other matter…”
Nodding again, Talon leans around to kiss his cheek, but he turns in time to make it a more proper kiss. After a second or two, they part.
Talon: ”Then I’ll wait for you here. Do what you need to.”
Giving a nod himself, Sentinel rises and leaves the room. The view changes to one from the portable camera, this time set up on a tripod near the windows overlooking Vegas from the Excalibur’s upper floors. Sentinel has a freshly-refilled drink in hand, leaning against the wall and letting his gaze fall upon the lit-up city lights. Without moving, he averts his eyes to the camera and begins.
Sentinel: ”I apologize if I sound arrogant here, Pauly, but I’m disappointed in you.”
Sentinel chooses his words carefully, thinking over each one as he speaks. He takes a sip from his drink and starts to roll the glass around in his hand, swirling the dark contents and making the ice clink against the vessel.
Sentinel: ”It’s good to see that a warrior’s heart still beats in your chest, that you’re aware of the gravity of our match, yet I’m still disappointed. It feels as if my words fell on deaf ears, and coming from someone who’s finding it hard to do this promo shit after so long of speaking through actions alone, that’s borderline insulting.”
He keeps his cool but sharp eyes note how his grip on the glass tightens for a moment.
Sentinel: ”I neither saw nor heard confidence or fire in your address. In their place was resignation and acceptance. That kind of attitude doesn’t win matches. In fact, it’s damn well beneath you, man. Even after all you’ve been through since the first time we clashed.
Where’s the Pauly from a year ago? Where’s the fire-breathing, whiskey-fueled hellhound who came at me without fear or favor in our debut match? You didn’t give a damn how big your opponent was, their reputation or anything about them. You were always looking for a good fight and to kick the hell out of the other guy. Someone like that should’ve been wearing gold by now.
Don’t mean to preach to you here…I’m just having trouble understanding what the deal is. Outwardly you haven’t changed much other than the fact that you’ve stepped up your training and, I note happily, that you’re taking your wrestling a lot more seriously. It’s what’s inside you that’s bothering me. I don’t think anyone else is seeing that but me. Got a feeling that if Shonn or Aerynn did, they’d say something themselves.”
Taking a longer draw from his glass, Sentinel gives his words a few moments to sink in, both for Pauly and himself, before continuing. He makes an effort to speak a little more calmly, or at least to take some of the edge out of his words.
Sentinel: ”Right now, word is that I’m leading in points. I’m the closest I’ve been to a title shot in a year. That’s something I ought to be proud of, yet I know better than to give in to that feeling. It breeds complacency. Keep that aversion to pride in mind when I tell you this:”
Steeling himself a bit, Sentinel puts the drink down on the nearby table and pushes off of the wall, standing to his full height.
Sentinel: ”There’s a reason why I’m undefeated in one-on-one matches here, and it has nothing to do with my opponents’ shortcomings, preferential booking or any other excuse someone might dredge up. It’s because I see things for what they are, not what they’re made out to be by someone else. I have perfect clarity…”
He taps his temple with his right index finger.
Sentinel: ”…and I put it to use every time I step into that ring or in front of a camera. Beyond the sometimes-justified arrogance of Silver Baron, the psychological warfare of Joshua McBride or spin-doctoring of Vince Jones, I see them for what they are: human. Breakable, fallible, imperfect creatures that are vulnerable despite what their words and actions might imply. No matter how much they put on a show and try to make the world think otherwise, they can’t fool these eyes.
Part of that logic, though, is that I recognize the fact that I’m the same. I’m human just like they are, just like you are. I don’t believe their hype OR mine. Yeah, I’ve yet to be pinned or made to tap out here in the UWA, but that can’t last forever. Eventually someone, maybe even you this Monday, will end that little streak. I’ve already accepted that, which isn’t to say I’m not going to fight to hold inevitability at bay as long as possible.”
The Silent Destroyer cracks a small smile at that beneath his gray stare.
Sentinel: ”Humility, one of the most potent virtues in existence. It is essentially the awareness of your place and duty in the universe. People who have only heard my wife deliver my messages would think I didn’t have any at all…”
Talon is heard to belt out from elsewhere in the room something to effect of ‘I heard that!’ which makes Sentinel chuckle quietly. But he’s right back on point.
Sentinel: ”…but they’d be wrong.”
All mirth disappears from his manner.
Sentinel: ”It isn’t my place to tell you who or what you are, Pauly, even though I’ve sorta done just that over the last several minutes. But if doing so wakes up the beast inside you and makes you bring the fire and pain to Mayhem, I consider it worth it even if it costs me a necessary win and the lead in the points. Remember well that I said I respected you? This has a lot to do with that.
At the risk of getting preachy again, though, I’ll leave it at this: if you step into that ring with me as the man I saw a few days ago on television, I’m going to demolish you. Not because I can or some other arrogant bullshit, but because you left me with no other choice. If it takes that to get the old Pauly back, I’m willing to go the distance and make our last two matches look like handshakes.”
He moves forward and crouches down so he’s eye-level with the camera, so that there’s no escaping his gaze.
Sentinel: ”No threats, no hyperbolic bullshit, no bragging. I get the Irish hellhound across the ring from me Monday night, or I crack you open and drag him out yelping and screaming. Either way, you and your compatriots will thank me for it. See you at Mayhem.”
Rising back up, Sentinel walks around the camera and shuts it off, bringing the promo to a close.
