Post by Sentinel on Jun 30, 2013 19:06:11 GMT -4
The well-dressed form of Talon, the Lady of Sin, steps from The Unforgiven’s locker room backstage in Phoenix and lets the door shut quietly behind her. Leaning back against it, she tenses slightly when the muffled sounds of expletive-laced fury emit from behind the passage. Her younger sister, Lady Rayne, seemed to be having a bit of a minor meltdown. Talon shakes her head slowly, bringing her hands to her face, black-tipped fingers rubbing her eyes slightly. From behind those hands comes soft chuckling…the same note of laughter one uses to mask frustration or some other negative sensation. You either have to laugh or cry, they say. She chose to laugh.
Bringing her hands down, pressing them against the cool, blue-painted metal, she pushes away from the door as the camera’s view swings around. Standing a bit down the hallway with two duffel bags over his broad right shoulder is Sentinel. With his facial hair neatly trimmed and his blue-black hair pulled back at the base of his neck he looks…well, appealing. Lots of women dig the exotic-looking type of men and the Silent Destroyer had that going for him. His gray eyes are locked on Talon up to the point where she sees him and offers a small smile of recognition. Walking over to him, her tall boots almost letting her look him in the eye, she reaches up to run a hand down his cheek.
Talon: ”How do you feel?”
Sentinel’s expression is impassive as he turns from her toward the doors at the end of the hallway. No slump in his shoulders, no air of dejection. The man had just suffered his first APW loss a little over an hour prior to this moment but he looked serene. Talon lifts a brow as though he’d said something that surprised her.
Talon: ”Nothing? At all? After the torrent of frustration from Rayne and the fury we’ll soon hear spewing from Zachariah…you’re just…?”
Turning his stone-colored stare back on Talon, Sentinel smiles, albeit thinly. He sets a strong hand to her smooth cheek and leans in, briefly touching his lips to her brow. Leaning back up, he nods gently in the direction of the doors and starts walking. She looks after him curiously while hands rub her red-clothed arms as they fold across her chest. Her tone is whisper-soft when she speaks again.
Talon: ”Are you really going…there? This…no, I can’t think like that. You know what you’re doing. Yes…this is fine.”
He only needs to glance over his shoulder to bring Talon back to her senses, out of her reverie. She moves to follow him down the hallway and out to the parking area. No Escalade waiting for them, however. Their departure takes place before that of their partners and they move without incident to the red 2013 Ford Ranger parked along the wall. Sentinel opens the rear driver’s door and puts their bags on the seat before turning back to the exit/entry doors, a brow raised. Talon, looking from the other side of the truck, sniffs slightly.
Talon: ”We’ll see them at the airport tomorrow. There’s no sense hanging around here. Not with the mood they’re in. Come.”
Without a word (obviously), Sentinel enters the truck with Talon and they’re soon pulling out of the parking area. They pass the aforementioned Escalade without a second thought though Sentinel’s eyes do shift in its direction almost knowingly. Regardless, they’re soon out on the road and heading into downtown Phoenix. Talon’s voice cuts in over the aerial view of the truck heading down the road.
”I suppose the first thing that needs saying is a word or two of congratulations. Not to Brian Hollywood, which is certain to irk the little parasite, but to Chris Madison. Since the moment our group has arrived in APW, there have been questions, threats, speculation and all else surrounding us. Questions of whether we were linked unscrupulously or otherwise to Sienna Harrison, threats from opponents and the threatened sorts in the locker room who feared what we were capable of and speculation about our origins and our benefactor. Everyone has an opinion. And as long as they choose to base their reactions on that instead of putting in the effort to discover the facts, they’re not only inconsequential to us…but complete non-factors. Some of our opponents at the Super-Show, inf fact, fall into such a category. But we’ll get to that shortly.
But you, Chris Madison…guilty as you are of lies and slander, arrogant as you can be without possessing the accolades to warrant it…we do recognize your accomplishment. Was it as impressive as it could have been? No. You rolled up my Destroyer and were fortunate enough to keep him in place for three. No decisive maneuver or grandiose finish but instead a case of taking what you could get and not pushing your luck. Still, it snapped your little losing streak and proved your tenacity and resourcefulness. And for that, we congratulate you. My Destroyer will do so personally come Monday night in Miami, though, so there’s no need to dwell further on it.”
The next we see of them after a fade-out is with Zachariah and Rayne at the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, finishing up at the security checkpoint and moving on to board the plane, one at a time. The look on Zachariah’s face is borderline murderous as Rayne is checked over by one of the female TSA officers and it doesn’t get any kinder when it’s his turn…to the point that the officer actually looks tentative about checking him, something that makes Rayne smirk in an amused way. Talon takes her once-over with grace, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing she’s bothered while Sentinel follows suit…though the efforts of the officers to check his full frame is kind of funny. As they move through, Talon’s voice cuts in as we get a side view of them moving through the terminal.
”It doesn’t surprise me that 75% of our opponents have been silent up to this point. Look at what we’ve accomplished since debuting here and tell us, honestly, if you’d want to invoke our ire?”
Her laughter is laced with dark amusement as we see the foursome move to board the plane now.
”Not that you could truly consider the bulk of them to be bright. The only part of this foursome positioned against us, Stefan Raab and Jerry Matthews who could be considered a threat are Keaton Saint and Anthony Bailey…and the former has already been claimed by Raab. Bailey, you’re fighting a losing battle, champion or no. What you have around your waist right now in the form of the World Tag Team Championships? That is something we covet madly. Sparing silly clichés, know this: we will have as our own in due time, whether we have to go through you and your partner or some other unlucky pair. My Silent Destroyer will be looking to send that message personally in Miami. And you will either show us your drive to remain champion or else exemplify just how smooth our path to the gold will be.”
We’re spared any scenes of drudgery from the multiple-hour flight from Arizona to Florida, the fade-out taking us from their entry into the aircraft’s cabin to a much more pleasant sight: one of Florida’s numerous beaches. The time of day is sunrise and upon a wooden chair sits Sentinel, hands resting on the chair’s armrests, gray eyes staring at the flame-colored horizon beyond the incessant waters of the Atlantic. The open white button-down shows some of that chiseled torso when the ocean breeze is just right and his black trunks with white tribal designs on them suit the simplicity of the man himself. Feet dug into the sand and dark hair left free to toss in the breeze, the Silent Destroyer looks utterly peaceful.
A form rises from the water in the distance and Sentinel’s head turns subtly to the side upon noticing it. The full figure of Talon stretches as she rises from the pleasantly-warm waves of salt water, her crimson hair tossed back creating a beautiful arcing spray of sun-sparkled droplets before she turns and walks in a carefree-but-sultry fashion toward the man watching her. His smile is subtle but apparent as she walks past him and to the back of his chair, setting her hands upon his shoulders, speaking in the present now.
Talon: ”Brian Hollywood, we know you’re listening. We know you aren’t ignorant to the message of our Masochist. And we also know that you’re gathering up as much bile and bravado as you can muster so that you can say to the world how you were such an integral part of breaking our short-lived winning streak. To which we say…”
Talon pauses and looks down at Sentinel, who predictably says nothing but instead merely gestures with a thumbs down. It seems comical coming from someone so stoic, but it amuses Talon.
Talon: ”Exactly. In what world, Brian, does you barely affecting the outcome of the tag team match in Phoenix match up to your being decimated and pinned with one move…ONE…the first time you danced with us? Talk to the contrary no only displays stupidity but also the after-effects of Madison delivering a beating to you once your thin layer of usefulness was worn off. Consider carefully the position you’re in before you get up in front of the world with your trite catchphrases and braggadocio. Look back on your recent past, your abysmal record in the ring in APW and consider affecting some class.
Learn your place and stay there, because you haven’t earned the right to have a single note of bass in your voice where it concerns us. That brings us to one of your little partners…the only one with the gumption to speak but one who obviously lacks the intelligence to mitigate his foolishness. Ronald Rufio.”
Talon openly scoffs, most of her back revealed due to the lines of the b lack-and-red one-piece she’s got on for her morning dip.
Talon: ”It almost sounds as though we’re listening to a younger, less mature Chris Madison when you open your mouth. The difference is that the Madman can back up his words. Coming into this with a 0-1 record, you’re just asking to be retired at 0-2. You’re obviously unaware of just how much my Silent Destroyer has said since arriving in APW. You just hear his message as the screams of his opponents when he brings them to the mat from over seven feet up and the gasps of the fans as they witness the impact.
He doesn’t need to flap his gums to say all he needs to say. A simpleton like you who treats your addresses to your opponents like a bad comedy show can’t grasp the brutal simplicity that my Destroyer brings to the table. So you fight back with smart-ass comments and what little you can dredge up as far as coherent thought goes. Do you perhaps think that you’re too big for him to decimate with the Black Sunset? Do you think you’re immune to the Black Lightning? A word of caution, Ronald: stay out of our way. You’re out of your league but we don’t make allowances for overgrown children. My Destroyer will have no issue putting more red on his ledger in the form of your broken body.”
Her hands move, arms now folded and resting atop the back of the chair as she joins Sentinel in staring at the slowly-rising sun. He leans his head back a bit so that it rests on her arms, the view coming to the side a bit so we can see them both clearly.
Talon: ”Treasure the little things, don’t sweat them. That’s what this moment is all about though we’re wasting a little of it addressing a quartet of fools who have no idea how serious the danger they’re in is. We’re aware of what this match could mean for our group and how our stock would rise in this company were we to bounce back with a big win from the thin loss last time. Especially considering that there’s a titlist in the mix. But we’ll leave the stress to Zachariah. Since we’ve debuted here, the pinfalls have been by our hand. He has done his part, yes, but my Silent Destroyer has sealed the deal each time except for the very first. That…is why the benefactor favors him at this moment.”
There’s no small amount of pride in her voice as she relates that point, but it stops short of being overbearing.
Talon: ”Zachariah will have his moment as well, of this we have no doubt. He is a former champion just as we, myself and Sentinel, are as well. Perhaps the loss to Hollywood and Madison will motivate him. Perhaps this week is where he shows one of your ilk the depths of his brutality, the art of pain that he has honed from back alleys to Japan and America’s biggest arenas and elsewhere across the world. You may mock him, but that will end come Monday night. Once you feel what he’s capable of, the only word coming out of your mouth regarding him will be ‘Sir’. All of you can count on that.
Is it disconcerting, however, that Matthews and Raab haven’t made their feelings known? After seeing their work over the time that we’ve been affiliated with this group…the answer is no. They will speak and their polarizing monologues will be as effective as ever. Raab we have briefly conversed with personally and are quite confident that his violent approach to matters like this will be a pleasure to watch. Matthews? His affection for the so-called ‘Good Book’ isn’t something we share. But we will instead look to his effectiveness thus far in APW and put him in the same league as Raab: someone not to be crossed between the ropes.”
Turning now, her hips leaned against the chair, Talon reaches for a glass of clear, bubbly liquid topped with slices of lime and orange. She sips from a red straw and releases a satisfied exhale before lifting the glass to the camera.
Talon: ”This is going to be quite the evening. In one fell swoop we will accomplish a great deal, the four of us. Raab will mete out wrath against Saint that will have the front row wringing their hands in concern for the poor bastard. The Unforgiven will send a painful message through Anthony Bailey that the tag championships are in danger of slipping through their tenuous grip sooner rather than later. Rufio? He’s a victim waiting to happen, something my Destroyer will make happen. Hollywood is little better save for the motivation we have to shut his soon-to-be running mouth by cracking his jaw. Zachariah, I believe, has something special in mind for the little bastard and I, for one, am eager to see what.”
Sentinel, sipping from a similarly-adorned glass, nods with a smirk to that comment.
Talon: ”We are the Control to the Masochist’s Chaos. One cannot survive without the other and when the two opposing forces work in concert, there is no greater force that exists. One loss does not put a chink in our armor. It does not make us weak. No, it motivates. It makes the bloodlust, the desire to destroy, that much more potent. None of you have dealt with The Unforgiven when we’re coming back from a loss. You have no idea of what we’re capable of with that kind of thrust. But you will. Very soon. Let’s see how prepared you all are for the unknown quantity.
I don’t like your chances.”
She walks around the chair again, Sentinel looking up at her as she sits across his lap comfortably. He welcomes her presence there as the view backs off a bit before we fade to black.
Bringing her hands down, pressing them against the cool, blue-painted metal, she pushes away from the door as the camera’s view swings around. Standing a bit down the hallway with two duffel bags over his broad right shoulder is Sentinel. With his facial hair neatly trimmed and his blue-black hair pulled back at the base of his neck he looks…well, appealing. Lots of women dig the exotic-looking type of men and the Silent Destroyer had that going for him. His gray eyes are locked on Talon up to the point where she sees him and offers a small smile of recognition. Walking over to him, her tall boots almost letting her look him in the eye, she reaches up to run a hand down his cheek.
Talon: ”How do you feel?”
Sentinel’s expression is impassive as he turns from her toward the doors at the end of the hallway. No slump in his shoulders, no air of dejection. The man had just suffered his first APW loss a little over an hour prior to this moment but he looked serene. Talon lifts a brow as though he’d said something that surprised her.
Talon: ”Nothing? At all? After the torrent of frustration from Rayne and the fury we’ll soon hear spewing from Zachariah…you’re just…?”
Turning his stone-colored stare back on Talon, Sentinel smiles, albeit thinly. He sets a strong hand to her smooth cheek and leans in, briefly touching his lips to her brow. Leaning back up, he nods gently in the direction of the doors and starts walking. She looks after him curiously while hands rub her red-clothed arms as they fold across her chest. Her tone is whisper-soft when she speaks again.
Talon: ”Are you really going…there? This…no, I can’t think like that. You know what you’re doing. Yes…this is fine.”
He only needs to glance over his shoulder to bring Talon back to her senses, out of her reverie. She moves to follow him down the hallway and out to the parking area. No Escalade waiting for them, however. Their departure takes place before that of their partners and they move without incident to the red 2013 Ford Ranger parked along the wall. Sentinel opens the rear driver’s door and puts their bags on the seat before turning back to the exit/entry doors, a brow raised. Talon, looking from the other side of the truck, sniffs slightly.
Talon: ”We’ll see them at the airport tomorrow. There’s no sense hanging around here. Not with the mood they’re in. Come.”
Without a word (obviously), Sentinel enters the truck with Talon and they’re soon pulling out of the parking area. They pass the aforementioned Escalade without a second thought though Sentinel’s eyes do shift in its direction almost knowingly. Regardless, they’re soon out on the road and heading into downtown Phoenix. Talon’s voice cuts in over the aerial view of the truck heading down the road.
”I suppose the first thing that needs saying is a word or two of congratulations. Not to Brian Hollywood, which is certain to irk the little parasite, but to Chris Madison. Since the moment our group has arrived in APW, there have been questions, threats, speculation and all else surrounding us. Questions of whether we were linked unscrupulously or otherwise to Sienna Harrison, threats from opponents and the threatened sorts in the locker room who feared what we were capable of and speculation about our origins and our benefactor. Everyone has an opinion. And as long as they choose to base their reactions on that instead of putting in the effort to discover the facts, they’re not only inconsequential to us…but complete non-factors. Some of our opponents at the Super-Show, inf fact, fall into such a category. But we’ll get to that shortly.
But you, Chris Madison…guilty as you are of lies and slander, arrogant as you can be without possessing the accolades to warrant it…we do recognize your accomplishment. Was it as impressive as it could have been? No. You rolled up my Destroyer and were fortunate enough to keep him in place for three. No decisive maneuver or grandiose finish but instead a case of taking what you could get and not pushing your luck. Still, it snapped your little losing streak and proved your tenacity and resourcefulness. And for that, we congratulate you. My Destroyer will do so personally come Monday night in Miami, though, so there’s no need to dwell further on it.”
The next we see of them after a fade-out is with Zachariah and Rayne at the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, finishing up at the security checkpoint and moving on to board the plane, one at a time. The look on Zachariah’s face is borderline murderous as Rayne is checked over by one of the female TSA officers and it doesn’t get any kinder when it’s his turn…to the point that the officer actually looks tentative about checking him, something that makes Rayne smirk in an amused way. Talon takes her once-over with grace, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing she’s bothered while Sentinel follows suit…though the efforts of the officers to check his full frame is kind of funny. As they move through, Talon’s voice cuts in as we get a side view of them moving through the terminal.
”It doesn’t surprise me that 75% of our opponents have been silent up to this point. Look at what we’ve accomplished since debuting here and tell us, honestly, if you’d want to invoke our ire?”
Her laughter is laced with dark amusement as we see the foursome move to board the plane now.
”Not that you could truly consider the bulk of them to be bright. The only part of this foursome positioned against us, Stefan Raab and Jerry Matthews who could be considered a threat are Keaton Saint and Anthony Bailey…and the former has already been claimed by Raab. Bailey, you’re fighting a losing battle, champion or no. What you have around your waist right now in the form of the World Tag Team Championships? That is something we covet madly. Sparing silly clichés, know this: we will have as our own in due time, whether we have to go through you and your partner or some other unlucky pair. My Silent Destroyer will be looking to send that message personally in Miami. And you will either show us your drive to remain champion or else exemplify just how smooth our path to the gold will be.”
We’re spared any scenes of drudgery from the multiple-hour flight from Arizona to Florida, the fade-out taking us from their entry into the aircraft’s cabin to a much more pleasant sight: one of Florida’s numerous beaches. The time of day is sunrise and upon a wooden chair sits Sentinel, hands resting on the chair’s armrests, gray eyes staring at the flame-colored horizon beyond the incessant waters of the Atlantic. The open white button-down shows some of that chiseled torso when the ocean breeze is just right and his black trunks with white tribal designs on them suit the simplicity of the man himself. Feet dug into the sand and dark hair left free to toss in the breeze, the Silent Destroyer looks utterly peaceful.
A form rises from the water in the distance and Sentinel’s head turns subtly to the side upon noticing it. The full figure of Talon stretches as she rises from the pleasantly-warm waves of salt water, her crimson hair tossed back creating a beautiful arcing spray of sun-sparkled droplets before she turns and walks in a carefree-but-sultry fashion toward the man watching her. His smile is subtle but apparent as she walks past him and to the back of his chair, setting her hands upon his shoulders, speaking in the present now.
Talon: ”Brian Hollywood, we know you’re listening. We know you aren’t ignorant to the message of our Masochist. And we also know that you’re gathering up as much bile and bravado as you can muster so that you can say to the world how you were such an integral part of breaking our short-lived winning streak. To which we say…”
Talon pauses and looks down at Sentinel, who predictably says nothing but instead merely gestures with a thumbs down. It seems comical coming from someone so stoic, but it amuses Talon.
Talon: ”Exactly. In what world, Brian, does you barely affecting the outcome of the tag team match in Phoenix match up to your being decimated and pinned with one move…ONE…the first time you danced with us? Talk to the contrary no only displays stupidity but also the after-effects of Madison delivering a beating to you once your thin layer of usefulness was worn off. Consider carefully the position you’re in before you get up in front of the world with your trite catchphrases and braggadocio. Look back on your recent past, your abysmal record in the ring in APW and consider affecting some class.
Learn your place and stay there, because you haven’t earned the right to have a single note of bass in your voice where it concerns us. That brings us to one of your little partners…the only one with the gumption to speak but one who obviously lacks the intelligence to mitigate his foolishness. Ronald Rufio.”
Talon openly scoffs, most of her back revealed due to the lines of the b lack-and-red one-piece she’s got on for her morning dip.
Talon: ”It almost sounds as though we’re listening to a younger, less mature Chris Madison when you open your mouth. The difference is that the Madman can back up his words. Coming into this with a 0-1 record, you’re just asking to be retired at 0-2. You’re obviously unaware of just how much my Silent Destroyer has said since arriving in APW. You just hear his message as the screams of his opponents when he brings them to the mat from over seven feet up and the gasps of the fans as they witness the impact.
He doesn’t need to flap his gums to say all he needs to say. A simpleton like you who treats your addresses to your opponents like a bad comedy show can’t grasp the brutal simplicity that my Destroyer brings to the table. So you fight back with smart-ass comments and what little you can dredge up as far as coherent thought goes. Do you perhaps think that you’re too big for him to decimate with the Black Sunset? Do you think you’re immune to the Black Lightning? A word of caution, Ronald: stay out of our way. You’re out of your league but we don’t make allowances for overgrown children. My Destroyer will have no issue putting more red on his ledger in the form of your broken body.”
Her hands move, arms now folded and resting atop the back of the chair as she joins Sentinel in staring at the slowly-rising sun. He leans his head back a bit so that it rests on her arms, the view coming to the side a bit so we can see them both clearly.
Talon: ”Treasure the little things, don’t sweat them. That’s what this moment is all about though we’re wasting a little of it addressing a quartet of fools who have no idea how serious the danger they’re in is. We’re aware of what this match could mean for our group and how our stock would rise in this company were we to bounce back with a big win from the thin loss last time. Especially considering that there’s a titlist in the mix. But we’ll leave the stress to Zachariah. Since we’ve debuted here, the pinfalls have been by our hand. He has done his part, yes, but my Silent Destroyer has sealed the deal each time except for the very first. That…is why the benefactor favors him at this moment.”
There’s no small amount of pride in her voice as she relates that point, but it stops short of being overbearing.
Talon: ”Zachariah will have his moment as well, of this we have no doubt. He is a former champion just as we, myself and Sentinel, are as well. Perhaps the loss to Hollywood and Madison will motivate him. Perhaps this week is where he shows one of your ilk the depths of his brutality, the art of pain that he has honed from back alleys to Japan and America’s biggest arenas and elsewhere across the world. You may mock him, but that will end come Monday night. Once you feel what he’s capable of, the only word coming out of your mouth regarding him will be ‘Sir’. All of you can count on that.
Is it disconcerting, however, that Matthews and Raab haven’t made their feelings known? After seeing their work over the time that we’ve been affiliated with this group…the answer is no. They will speak and their polarizing monologues will be as effective as ever. Raab we have briefly conversed with personally and are quite confident that his violent approach to matters like this will be a pleasure to watch. Matthews? His affection for the so-called ‘Good Book’ isn’t something we share. But we will instead look to his effectiveness thus far in APW and put him in the same league as Raab: someone not to be crossed between the ropes.”
Turning now, her hips leaned against the chair, Talon reaches for a glass of clear, bubbly liquid topped with slices of lime and orange. She sips from a red straw and releases a satisfied exhale before lifting the glass to the camera.
Talon: ”This is going to be quite the evening. In one fell swoop we will accomplish a great deal, the four of us. Raab will mete out wrath against Saint that will have the front row wringing their hands in concern for the poor bastard. The Unforgiven will send a painful message through Anthony Bailey that the tag championships are in danger of slipping through their tenuous grip sooner rather than later. Rufio? He’s a victim waiting to happen, something my Destroyer will make happen. Hollywood is little better save for the motivation we have to shut his soon-to-be running mouth by cracking his jaw. Zachariah, I believe, has something special in mind for the little bastard and I, for one, am eager to see what.”
Sentinel, sipping from a similarly-adorned glass, nods with a smirk to that comment.
Talon: ”We are the Control to the Masochist’s Chaos. One cannot survive without the other and when the two opposing forces work in concert, there is no greater force that exists. One loss does not put a chink in our armor. It does not make us weak. No, it motivates. It makes the bloodlust, the desire to destroy, that much more potent. None of you have dealt with The Unforgiven when we’re coming back from a loss. You have no idea of what we’re capable of with that kind of thrust. But you will. Very soon. Let’s see how prepared you all are for the unknown quantity.
I don’t like your chances.”
She walks around the chair again, Sentinel looking up at her as she sits across his lap comfortably. He welcomes her presence there as the view backs off a bit before we fade to black.
