Post by Sentinel on Aug 8, 2013 14:46:42 GMT -4
Talon: "Throw something heavy into a crowd of people and the fool it hits will make a noise. Thank you, Shadow, for being that fool."
Talon's sometimes-delicate voice carries a familiar flavor of wickedness to it as well as a touch of secretive humor. It wavers though not in any form due to her mindset. She just seems to be...in motion. When the camera clicks on, she's laying on her side in a sultry fashion, watching the camera. Her body wavers a little and then slowly rises. From beneath, two powerful arms connected to hands placed at her torso and thigh, push her up into the air and lower her back down. It doesn't take a hell of a lot of thinking to realize who those muscular appendages belong to.
Talon: "For a person who claims a long, illustrious history and has no shame in bragging about it, you're quite quick to damn us for having pride our own little slice of the past, aren't you? This title, that title, a pretty ring made of fool's gold and cubic zirconia because you stuck around for a couple years? Seventy-five percent of people in the wrestling business can make that claim, Shadow. It doesn't make you special. It sounds as if you're feeling threatened because deep down you're starting to realize the full width of the situation you're in. That or you're just as not as good as you think or say and, for once, have run into people who will call you on your bullshit braggadocio.
Which one, Shadow? It's one or the other. Then again..."
She laughs musically as the quiet breaths of Sentinel below her, combined with growl-like noises of effort, push her up and lower her down in a steady, unbroken pattern.
Talon: "...it may just be a case of damaged pride. I mean, you, a monster with size beyond that of my Destroyer, was beaten down like a dog by a woman smaller than Rayne. You could have accepted getting stitches, Shadow. Cooking your forehead wasn't a sign of strength or self-preservation. It was a fruitless attempt to grow something resembling manhood after Aubrey Parker figuratively ripped yours off."
Sentinel has completed a set at this point and Talon reaches down when she's lowered and pats the Destroyer on the chest before rolling off of him like a cat. The big man sits up, taking the proffered towel from his Lady of Sin and wiping excess sweat from his figure. Something beyond mere admiration shines in Talon's eyes when she looks at him...then turns into a hardened glittering as she reverts toward the camera.
Talon: "A massive man possessed of wrathful strength and a wicked disposition, someone whom most fear by default...picked apart by a small woman with a rudimentary weapon. And you think, somehow, that you're going to teach her as well as us a lesson? Let's get something straight, you giant, bloodstained clod:"
Beneath tendrils of sweat-soaked black hair, Sentinel's head turns and we just KNOW the man is smiling. Behind Talon's quasi-pleasant expression lies something sinister.
Talon: "You're an oversized man-child raging against a machine well beyond your ken. You will be lucky to survive us, much less defeat us. You bray like a jackass, revealing more of your fear with every breath. The truth of your being is laid bare for the world. So far, fear is the only honest emotion you've shown. There's an art to trying to portray yourself as an asshole iconoclast, Shadow, and you're far from a master. I suggest watching some of Chris Madison's promos against my Destroyer so that you might learn something. You'd best start worrying more about your future than our past. Because as it stands right now, a wave of mine or Rayne's hand would cause The Unforgiven to ensure that you don't have one. Raab would have to pick your bones to get his satisfaction."
Sentinel makes no sound but the laughter is given away, silent as it is, by the slight shake of his shoulders. He moves from the weight bench to the floor, stretching himself out into a plank position with his palms pressed to the mat-covered floor. Talon slinks over to him and lays length-wise upon his body, arms folded beneath her head resting near his shoulders. Despite her utterly-relaxed posture, he ferocity in her stare lingers.
Talon: "Zachariah has handled better than you in his time, Shadow, and he'll handle better after you. Aubrey has already proven that she has your number in bloody fashion. As big and as powerful as you are, you're not immune to the Black Sunset. My Destroyer can, and will, bring the curtain down on your harangue of insults and idiocy in convincing fashion. And no amount of burning chairs will be able to heal your wounded pride."
With a hissing intake of air, Sentinel pushes up from the floor, lifting a combined 400-plus pounds until his arms are fully extended. He holds for a few seconds, then lowers back down and settles into a slow rhythm with his breaths matching every motion.
Talon: "As for your promo on Meltdown, you'll have to forgive Zachariah for not remembering. If it were really that groundbreaking or important, maybe it would have registered. You can't fault the Masochist for failing to recall yet another overhyped return by someone else who the wrestling world had all but forgotten. It seems to happen every damn week. We just sort of...tune it out. You know, to focus on violence, advancing our agenda and, of course, winning."
She smirks as her body once more rises and falls from Sentinel's power.
Talon: "So far, no one has heard HOW you're going to do all the things you CLAIM you will do. Because you're big? Because you're angry? Please, Shadow, spill the mystery. Don't keep us all in suspense. It's uncouth. Every other breath you expel is a jab at Stefan as if you expect him to give a damn about the shit you're talking. If anything you spouted mattered to him he'd respond. Since he hasn't done much of that so far, Shadow, I suppose you just don't rate. But don't worry, child...WE notice. The Unforgiven NOTICES, as does the young lady who gave you a third eye with a steel chair.
We notice that you're a little boy in a man's body who needs punishing. No one, no matter how impressive they are, is going to last against a three-pronged onslaught from former and current champions of this business. It's time for you to put the vendettas to bed and prove yourself to be a man by taking your beating like a man. And you WILL be beaten, Shadow. So...very...badly. Almost badly enough that the Sisters of Suffering might feel remorse for directing our respective charges in the task.
...almost."
Nine...ten...eleven...twelve...Sentinel just keeps going even as the floor darkens beneath him with every drop of sweat that falls from his face and chest. There's no tremor in his limbs or hesitation. He pushes his weight and Talon's not with ease, but with controlled focus and power.
Talon: "Know this: your gimpy leg and split forehead aren't a target for my Destroyer, Shadow. Zachariah? Perhaps. He is a master of the art of pain and anywhere on your body that weakness dwells he will tear into like a blood-crazed scavenger. Sentinel will face you like the man you're not and go punch for punch, slam for slam until you start to falter. He will relish taking the best you can offer and getting back up so that he can watch the color drain from your face, the fire in your eyes dwindle. And then? We'll simply disappoint Aubrey by tearing your heart from your chest and leaving you to bleed out on the canvas.
For all your attempts to be different, Shadow, you sound just like everyone else to mine and my Destroyer's ears.
Sentinel's actions speak for him. None of you are worthy of hearing his voice. You wouldn't be able to over the sound of your own screams anyway, so leave the lame jokes about his chosen silence by the wayside. You just sound like a fool. Unlike you, he doesn't have to pump himself up by talking about what he's going to do. He simply goes out and does it. Sounds to me like that's why he gets under your skin so much: because you can't do what he can do. You have nothing to call him on, nothing to compare him to. All you can manage is a rehashing of what we've heard a hundred times before before falling to him like that same hundred. Sentinel has his head on straight. He understands that losses will happen, that there will always be someone bigger, stronger...maybe even better...than he is. You're one-out-of-three in that regard, Shadow. Respectable, but not enough to play your games on our field."
...nineteen...twenty. Sentinel holds himself as Talon slides off his back. He rises under his own power, the light setting off his ripped physique nicely. Not that he's showing off, of course, but his hard work is noticable. The proper side of pride compared to that of Shadow, the wrong side.
Talon: "It's time to wake up and face the truth, Shadow: you're not worthy of Raab's direct wrath, so you've been fed to us as a human sacrifice. When you should be preparing to fight for your life you're dropping one-liners and blowing your own ego as if you've already won. Victory for you is a dream we will turn into a waking nightmare. Survival is your only hope, but the only way you'll manage it is through sheer dumb luck. You're going to fight all of us tooth-and-nail, screaming self-love and flailing like an addict in withdrawal, because you just don't know when to quit.
Well, we're going to show you. And if fortune smiles upon you, it won't be too late. If Lady Luck gives you her kiss...it will be just in time for the doctors to put your jacked-up, slack-jawed, Humpty Dumpty ass back together so Raab can have a go."
She slinks up against the chiseled form of her Destroyer and grins predatorily at the camera.
Talon: "See? We can talk shit too, Shadow...but we can back it up. So far you haven't proven to us that you can do the same. All you do is throw stones covered in your tainted blood, hoping to stain us as you're stained. It's futile, though. You won't understand the difference between us until you're crawling through a puddle of your blood and broken dreams, staring up at us in a red haze as we loom over you with FOUR MORE WORDS to go with those that Zachariah so properly imparted:
'We told you so.'"
She encircles her arms about Sentinel, who stares into the camera in the seconds left before we fade out.
Talon's sometimes-delicate voice carries a familiar flavor of wickedness to it as well as a touch of secretive humor. It wavers though not in any form due to her mindset. She just seems to be...in motion. When the camera clicks on, she's laying on her side in a sultry fashion, watching the camera. Her body wavers a little and then slowly rises. From beneath, two powerful arms connected to hands placed at her torso and thigh, push her up into the air and lower her back down. It doesn't take a hell of a lot of thinking to realize who those muscular appendages belong to.
Talon: "For a person who claims a long, illustrious history and has no shame in bragging about it, you're quite quick to damn us for having pride our own little slice of the past, aren't you? This title, that title, a pretty ring made of fool's gold and cubic zirconia because you stuck around for a couple years? Seventy-five percent of people in the wrestling business can make that claim, Shadow. It doesn't make you special. It sounds as if you're feeling threatened because deep down you're starting to realize the full width of the situation you're in. That or you're just as not as good as you think or say and, for once, have run into people who will call you on your bullshit braggadocio.
Which one, Shadow? It's one or the other. Then again..."
She laughs musically as the quiet breaths of Sentinel below her, combined with growl-like noises of effort, push her up and lower her down in a steady, unbroken pattern.
Talon: "...it may just be a case of damaged pride. I mean, you, a monster with size beyond that of my Destroyer, was beaten down like a dog by a woman smaller than Rayne. You could have accepted getting stitches, Shadow. Cooking your forehead wasn't a sign of strength or self-preservation. It was a fruitless attempt to grow something resembling manhood after Aubrey Parker figuratively ripped yours off."
Sentinel has completed a set at this point and Talon reaches down when she's lowered and pats the Destroyer on the chest before rolling off of him like a cat. The big man sits up, taking the proffered towel from his Lady of Sin and wiping excess sweat from his figure. Something beyond mere admiration shines in Talon's eyes when she looks at him...then turns into a hardened glittering as she reverts toward the camera.
Talon: "A massive man possessed of wrathful strength and a wicked disposition, someone whom most fear by default...picked apart by a small woman with a rudimentary weapon. And you think, somehow, that you're going to teach her as well as us a lesson? Let's get something straight, you giant, bloodstained clod:"
Beneath tendrils of sweat-soaked black hair, Sentinel's head turns and we just KNOW the man is smiling. Behind Talon's quasi-pleasant expression lies something sinister.
Talon: "You're an oversized man-child raging against a machine well beyond your ken. You will be lucky to survive us, much less defeat us. You bray like a jackass, revealing more of your fear with every breath. The truth of your being is laid bare for the world. So far, fear is the only honest emotion you've shown. There's an art to trying to portray yourself as an asshole iconoclast, Shadow, and you're far from a master. I suggest watching some of Chris Madison's promos against my Destroyer so that you might learn something. You'd best start worrying more about your future than our past. Because as it stands right now, a wave of mine or Rayne's hand would cause The Unforgiven to ensure that you don't have one. Raab would have to pick your bones to get his satisfaction."
Sentinel makes no sound but the laughter is given away, silent as it is, by the slight shake of his shoulders. He moves from the weight bench to the floor, stretching himself out into a plank position with his palms pressed to the mat-covered floor. Talon slinks over to him and lays length-wise upon his body, arms folded beneath her head resting near his shoulders. Despite her utterly-relaxed posture, he ferocity in her stare lingers.
Talon: "Zachariah has handled better than you in his time, Shadow, and he'll handle better after you. Aubrey has already proven that she has your number in bloody fashion. As big and as powerful as you are, you're not immune to the Black Sunset. My Destroyer can, and will, bring the curtain down on your harangue of insults and idiocy in convincing fashion. And no amount of burning chairs will be able to heal your wounded pride."
With a hissing intake of air, Sentinel pushes up from the floor, lifting a combined 400-plus pounds until his arms are fully extended. He holds for a few seconds, then lowers back down and settles into a slow rhythm with his breaths matching every motion.
Talon: "As for your promo on Meltdown, you'll have to forgive Zachariah for not remembering. If it were really that groundbreaking or important, maybe it would have registered. You can't fault the Masochist for failing to recall yet another overhyped return by someone else who the wrestling world had all but forgotten. It seems to happen every damn week. We just sort of...tune it out. You know, to focus on violence, advancing our agenda and, of course, winning."
She smirks as her body once more rises and falls from Sentinel's power.
Talon: "So far, no one has heard HOW you're going to do all the things you CLAIM you will do. Because you're big? Because you're angry? Please, Shadow, spill the mystery. Don't keep us all in suspense. It's uncouth. Every other breath you expel is a jab at Stefan as if you expect him to give a damn about the shit you're talking. If anything you spouted mattered to him he'd respond. Since he hasn't done much of that so far, Shadow, I suppose you just don't rate. But don't worry, child...WE notice. The Unforgiven NOTICES, as does the young lady who gave you a third eye with a steel chair.
We notice that you're a little boy in a man's body who needs punishing. No one, no matter how impressive they are, is going to last against a three-pronged onslaught from former and current champions of this business. It's time for you to put the vendettas to bed and prove yourself to be a man by taking your beating like a man. And you WILL be beaten, Shadow. So...very...badly. Almost badly enough that the Sisters of Suffering might feel remorse for directing our respective charges in the task.
...almost."
Nine...ten...eleven...twelve...Sentinel just keeps going even as the floor darkens beneath him with every drop of sweat that falls from his face and chest. There's no tremor in his limbs or hesitation. He pushes his weight and Talon's not with ease, but with controlled focus and power.
Talon: "Know this: your gimpy leg and split forehead aren't a target for my Destroyer, Shadow. Zachariah? Perhaps. He is a master of the art of pain and anywhere on your body that weakness dwells he will tear into like a blood-crazed scavenger. Sentinel will face you like the man you're not and go punch for punch, slam for slam until you start to falter. He will relish taking the best you can offer and getting back up so that he can watch the color drain from your face, the fire in your eyes dwindle. And then? We'll simply disappoint Aubrey by tearing your heart from your chest and leaving you to bleed out on the canvas.
For all your attempts to be different, Shadow, you sound just like everyone else to mine and my Destroyer's ears.
Sentinel's actions speak for him. None of you are worthy of hearing his voice. You wouldn't be able to over the sound of your own screams anyway, so leave the lame jokes about his chosen silence by the wayside. You just sound like a fool. Unlike you, he doesn't have to pump himself up by talking about what he's going to do. He simply goes out and does it. Sounds to me like that's why he gets under your skin so much: because you can't do what he can do. You have nothing to call him on, nothing to compare him to. All you can manage is a rehashing of what we've heard a hundred times before before falling to him like that same hundred. Sentinel has his head on straight. He understands that losses will happen, that there will always be someone bigger, stronger...maybe even better...than he is. You're one-out-of-three in that regard, Shadow. Respectable, but not enough to play your games on our field."
...nineteen...twenty. Sentinel holds himself as Talon slides off his back. He rises under his own power, the light setting off his ripped physique nicely. Not that he's showing off, of course, but his hard work is noticable. The proper side of pride compared to that of Shadow, the wrong side.
Talon: "It's time to wake up and face the truth, Shadow: you're not worthy of Raab's direct wrath, so you've been fed to us as a human sacrifice. When you should be preparing to fight for your life you're dropping one-liners and blowing your own ego as if you've already won. Victory for you is a dream we will turn into a waking nightmare. Survival is your only hope, but the only way you'll manage it is through sheer dumb luck. You're going to fight all of us tooth-and-nail, screaming self-love and flailing like an addict in withdrawal, because you just don't know when to quit.
Well, we're going to show you. And if fortune smiles upon you, it won't be too late. If Lady Luck gives you her kiss...it will be just in time for the doctors to put your jacked-up, slack-jawed, Humpty Dumpty ass back together so Raab can have a go."
She slinks up against the chiseled form of her Destroyer and grins predatorily at the camera.
Talon: "See? We can talk shit too, Shadow...but we can back it up. So far you haven't proven to us that you can do the same. All you do is throw stones covered in your tainted blood, hoping to stain us as you're stained. It's futile, though. You won't understand the difference between us until you're crawling through a puddle of your blood and broken dreams, staring up at us in a red haze as we loom over you with FOUR MORE WORDS to go with those that Zachariah so properly imparted:
'We told you so.'"
She encircles her arms about Sentinel, who stares into the camera in the seconds left before we fade out.
