Post by Sentinel on May 21, 2013 22:49:23 GMT -4
Silence is the first thing that greets viewers when the promo starts. But it’s a recurring theme with the man about whom this message is delivered. It embodies and encompasses his very being and what is left in the wake of his destructive exploits in the squared circle.
Silence.
This unnatural quiet is broken by the low whistle of a mountain breeze, one that carries crisp, cool wind down from the modest peaks of the Great Smoky Mountains. The invisible presence causes the open red button-down adorning the torso of the Silent Destroyer to flap gently about his muscled figure, only hindered by the powerful arms folded across his chest. Equally tossed about is his hair, so black it looks blue, thrown about by the chilly breeze. The light blue morning sky and the sun within it throw most of his features into shadow but with his back to us, there wasn’t much of a view to begin with.
From elsewhere in the second-floor room on whose balcony Sentinel stands comes the soft noise of bare feet upon plush carpeting. A sultry-yet-equally-shadowed figure, obviously female, walks toward Sentinel and stops at his left side, gazing up at him. His head turns slightly and we hear the woman’s voice whisper something under her breath. The response from Sentinel is naught but a nod and we see the woman’s face turn toward us as she leans against the side and shoulder of her charge. Talon, the Lady of Sin and the guide that controls Sentinel’s path of destruction, speaks.
Talon: “Arise, minions of the waking world. Open your tired eyes and cast your beleaguered gazes upon the force of nature that is my Silent Destroyer. Look now as the Beast is at rest and remember how it looks. Mark it and never forget the peace he possesses right now, this second.”
A swift yet subtle gesture from Talon lights a single, black candle that she holds upon a carefully-crafted silver holder. It illuminates the smoothness of her own features, the shockingly red hair and her acid-green eyes. But most prominently, it reveals her predatory smile as those eyes turn back to the monster before her.
Talon: “It may very well be the last time you do.”
He laugh is musical and sinister at the same time, akin to that of a mythical siren.
Talon: “My Sentinel hungers for rent flesh and spilled blood. He seeks to sate my thirst for carnage in any avenue that presents itself. It just so happens that our battleground of choice is APW. Those few of you who have experienced the wrath of my dear Destroyer or heard the stories told in voices stuttering from bodies battered…do be so kind as to warn the neophytes and the more ignorant of your ilk of what is coming. After all, a slim chance is better than none.”
Sentinel’s head turns and he gazes down at Talon at his side. Hair falls before his features, keeping his appearance effectively masked…at least to us. She turns her stare upon him and smiles again but without the same level of malice.
Talon: “The questions have been incessant since before the ink dried on the contract. Why have we come here? Why at this point have we decided to come out of retirement and once more leave a path of broken bodies in our wake? Why, why, why?”
The same word is delivered over and over, mockingly in a child-like voice. In a blink Talon’s expression contorts into one of irritation.
Talon: “We owe answers to no one. People today focus too much on the reasons why something has happened rather than the fact that it HAS. Why did some teenager and his buddy decide to shoot up a school with semi-automatic weapons? Why would this insurgent group bomb an embassy? What circumstances could have led to this family being held hostage and executed in their own living room. Why…why…a thousand times why.”
The nature of her features bleeds into her words, each syllable dripping with disdain.
Talon: “It doesn’t matter why. Knowing why two cowards with guns sought to massacre innocent people in an establishment of learning won’t bring the victims back to life. Understanding the motives of suicide bombers won’t negate the damage personal and private they did in their last moments alive. The history of the gang members who shot that innocent family in their own home after hours of mental torment won’t give the remaining kin any peace. What matters is the end result.
I point…and Sentinel destroys. I say the word and this tower of a man steps between the ropes and besieges anyone who bears the onus of being his opponent. Win or lose, he leaves his mark. One is obvious better than the other but being there to see his prowess live and in living color is nothing short of intoxicating. There are things in life that are to be treasured, experiences that we must commit to memory either for the lessons they teach or the feelings they offer us. And my dear Silent Destroyer consumed with battle-lust is one of those. Perhaps it is an acquired taste…”
Talon disengages from Sentinel, walking past him as the camera follows her out onto the balcony proper. She’s just able to slide her six-foot, one-inch form through the space between her charge and the sliding glass door, entering the light. The black silk robe rustles about her long legs, her steps all but silent. She moves to the edge of the balcony and looks out over the impressive view of the town below, nestled snugly in the valley surrounded by trees lush in the early part of spring and mountains tall and blue in the background. The view renders her into a more peaceful state as she lifts a fine-fingered hand to sweep a few wavy red locks behind her ear.
Talon: “From this height, the hustling drones in the city below are like ants. The same routine day after day, most of them unaware that a dark force stares upon them as the sun rises, seeing them for the insects they are. Do you think that that sounds arrogant?”
She glances over her shoulder at us, smirking before returning her attention to the small city below.
Talon: “A man yet to be seen in an APW ring and already his lovely manager touts him as the next great epitome of wrath, all but promising that any in his path will be mauled like so many unfortunates before them. Do not mistake my words for the ramblings of some carnival huckster. You see, I am not only the manager of this chiseled specimen, but I have also competed alongside him…and fought against him.”
Both brows rise as she mocks what is sure to be some surprise amongst those watching.
Talon: “I am eminently aware of what Sentinel is capable of. I have experienced it from every angle. This is a creature, a mythical monster, which pain cannot stop. You can slow him down and some of you here might even be capable of defeating him. And if victory were our only purpose that might give us pause. How sad that it isn’t…how tearfully, honestly sad that my Sentinel will not be stopped so simply. He has tasted defeat before and while it falls bitter upon his tongue his focus is always on the greater prize. The truly intelligent and resourceful of us can snatch victory from defeat in some form if we are observant enough, careful enough.”
Sentinel walks into the frame now, his stride long and purposeful as he comes to the balcony wall. Large hands set upon it and he leans forward, crimson shirt tossed about in the breeze as he stares down at the city below. Fingertips clench tightly to the wall and his back and shoulders tense, muscles bunching up as the man seems to be fighting to hold in his wrath. Talon whispers a single word…
Talon: “Soon.”
…and the tension fades. She walks to his back and presses her own against it comfortably, arms folding against her ample chest. Her posture fails to cause the slightest alteration of Sentinel’s own while she again addresses the camera.
Talon: “Surely you’ve heard this spiel before many times from many other men and women in various forms. The philosophy may be different and the position on the spectrum of delivery may vary considerably, but you’ve heard it more than once. Admit it.”
She licks ruby red lips and grins, the tips of her fangs peeking through.
Talon: “Roll your eyes and shrug your shoulders. Assume that we’re like the rest. Also-rans and one-shotters who made a lot of noise but didn’t deliver. Did that happen because they couldn’t meet your standards? Perhaps it was because they set the bar too high with their tough talk. Nothing that I have said up to this point has been untrue. It bears repeating. I point…and Sentinel destroys. It’s what he does. He was born, bred and forged into what you see for just that purpose. The only difference this time around is that he’s not fighting alone. There’s the matter of our…ally. Zachariah Blood.”
The name makes her expression become flat for a moment, her eyes darting to the side as she pauses in silence. Sentinel’s head turns just slightly and she lifts an arm, touching his shoulder lightly. He nods and turns back to the view as Talon reorients on us.
Talon: “Our association is dictated by a power higher than our own, a power that expects much from the Silent Destroyer and the Masochist alike. Beyond that, they expect that my dear sister and I work together to see to it that the Unforgiven dominate as is their right. And they shall. One way or the other.”
She takes a step forward as she feels Sentinel’s body shift in the form of his turning around to face the camera. Her smile takes on a darker tilt as from beneath a curtain of black hair, the Silent Destroyer stares into the recording lens. Gray eyes cold and calm, revealed as he lifts a hand to push the dark strands from his face. He brings powerful hands to the waist of Talon, drawing her back against his half-bare chest, a gesture she accepts willingly.
Talon: “Consider yourselves warned. There will not be a repeat of it. From this point forth, anyone in our way will be marked as a threat; one that shall be dealt with expediently and in the most brutal of fashions.”
Finished speaking, she turns to look up at the man-beast behind her, whose stare shifts to her then back to the camera. A cold gaze becomes a glare, the first and only signal to the cameraman to shut down, leaving us in the darkness in which we started.
Silence.
This unnatural quiet is broken by the low whistle of a mountain breeze, one that carries crisp, cool wind down from the modest peaks of the Great Smoky Mountains. The invisible presence causes the open red button-down adorning the torso of the Silent Destroyer to flap gently about his muscled figure, only hindered by the powerful arms folded across his chest. Equally tossed about is his hair, so black it looks blue, thrown about by the chilly breeze. The light blue morning sky and the sun within it throw most of his features into shadow but with his back to us, there wasn’t much of a view to begin with.
From elsewhere in the second-floor room on whose balcony Sentinel stands comes the soft noise of bare feet upon plush carpeting. A sultry-yet-equally-shadowed figure, obviously female, walks toward Sentinel and stops at his left side, gazing up at him. His head turns slightly and we hear the woman’s voice whisper something under her breath. The response from Sentinel is naught but a nod and we see the woman’s face turn toward us as she leans against the side and shoulder of her charge. Talon, the Lady of Sin and the guide that controls Sentinel’s path of destruction, speaks.
Talon: “Arise, minions of the waking world. Open your tired eyes and cast your beleaguered gazes upon the force of nature that is my Silent Destroyer. Look now as the Beast is at rest and remember how it looks. Mark it and never forget the peace he possesses right now, this second.”
A swift yet subtle gesture from Talon lights a single, black candle that she holds upon a carefully-crafted silver holder. It illuminates the smoothness of her own features, the shockingly red hair and her acid-green eyes. But most prominently, it reveals her predatory smile as those eyes turn back to the monster before her.
Talon: “It may very well be the last time you do.”
He laugh is musical and sinister at the same time, akin to that of a mythical siren.
Talon: “My Sentinel hungers for rent flesh and spilled blood. He seeks to sate my thirst for carnage in any avenue that presents itself. It just so happens that our battleground of choice is APW. Those few of you who have experienced the wrath of my dear Destroyer or heard the stories told in voices stuttering from bodies battered…do be so kind as to warn the neophytes and the more ignorant of your ilk of what is coming. After all, a slim chance is better than none.”
Sentinel’s head turns and he gazes down at Talon at his side. Hair falls before his features, keeping his appearance effectively masked…at least to us. She turns her stare upon him and smiles again but without the same level of malice.
Talon: “The questions have been incessant since before the ink dried on the contract. Why have we come here? Why at this point have we decided to come out of retirement and once more leave a path of broken bodies in our wake? Why, why, why?”
The same word is delivered over and over, mockingly in a child-like voice. In a blink Talon’s expression contorts into one of irritation.
Talon: “We owe answers to no one. People today focus too much on the reasons why something has happened rather than the fact that it HAS. Why did some teenager and his buddy decide to shoot up a school with semi-automatic weapons? Why would this insurgent group bomb an embassy? What circumstances could have led to this family being held hostage and executed in their own living room. Why…why…a thousand times why.”
The nature of her features bleeds into her words, each syllable dripping with disdain.
Talon: “It doesn’t matter why. Knowing why two cowards with guns sought to massacre innocent people in an establishment of learning won’t bring the victims back to life. Understanding the motives of suicide bombers won’t negate the damage personal and private they did in their last moments alive. The history of the gang members who shot that innocent family in their own home after hours of mental torment won’t give the remaining kin any peace. What matters is the end result.
I point…and Sentinel destroys. I say the word and this tower of a man steps between the ropes and besieges anyone who bears the onus of being his opponent. Win or lose, he leaves his mark. One is obvious better than the other but being there to see his prowess live and in living color is nothing short of intoxicating. There are things in life that are to be treasured, experiences that we must commit to memory either for the lessons they teach or the feelings they offer us. And my dear Silent Destroyer consumed with battle-lust is one of those. Perhaps it is an acquired taste…”
Talon disengages from Sentinel, walking past him as the camera follows her out onto the balcony proper. She’s just able to slide her six-foot, one-inch form through the space between her charge and the sliding glass door, entering the light. The black silk robe rustles about her long legs, her steps all but silent. She moves to the edge of the balcony and looks out over the impressive view of the town below, nestled snugly in the valley surrounded by trees lush in the early part of spring and mountains tall and blue in the background. The view renders her into a more peaceful state as she lifts a fine-fingered hand to sweep a few wavy red locks behind her ear.
Talon: “From this height, the hustling drones in the city below are like ants. The same routine day after day, most of them unaware that a dark force stares upon them as the sun rises, seeing them for the insects they are. Do you think that that sounds arrogant?”
She glances over her shoulder at us, smirking before returning her attention to the small city below.
Talon: “A man yet to be seen in an APW ring and already his lovely manager touts him as the next great epitome of wrath, all but promising that any in his path will be mauled like so many unfortunates before them. Do not mistake my words for the ramblings of some carnival huckster. You see, I am not only the manager of this chiseled specimen, but I have also competed alongside him…and fought against him.”
Both brows rise as she mocks what is sure to be some surprise amongst those watching.
Talon: “I am eminently aware of what Sentinel is capable of. I have experienced it from every angle. This is a creature, a mythical monster, which pain cannot stop. You can slow him down and some of you here might even be capable of defeating him. And if victory were our only purpose that might give us pause. How sad that it isn’t…how tearfully, honestly sad that my Sentinel will not be stopped so simply. He has tasted defeat before and while it falls bitter upon his tongue his focus is always on the greater prize. The truly intelligent and resourceful of us can snatch victory from defeat in some form if we are observant enough, careful enough.”
Sentinel walks into the frame now, his stride long and purposeful as he comes to the balcony wall. Large hands set upon it and he leans forward, crimson shirt tossed about in the breeze as he stares down at the city below. Fingertips clench tightly to the wall and his back and shoulders tense, muscles bunching up as the man seems to be fighting to hold in his wrath. Talon whispers a single word…
Talon: “Soon.”
…and the tension fades. She walks to his back and presses her own against it comfortably, arms folding against her ample chest. Her posture fails to cause the slightest alteration of Sentinel’s own while she again addresses the camera.
Talon: “Surely you’ve heard this spiel before many times from many other men and women in various forms. The philosophy may be different and the position on the spectrum of delivery may vary considerably, but you’ve heard it more than once. Admit it.”
She licks ruby red lips and grins, the tips of her fangs peeking through.
Talon: “Roll your eyes and shrug your shoulders. Assume that we’re like the rest. Also-rans and one-shotters who made a lot of noise but didn’t deliver. Did that happen because they couldn’t meet your standards? Perhaps it was because they set the bar too high with their tough talk. Nothing that I have said up to this point has been untrue. It bears repeating. I point…and Sentinel destroys. It’s what he does. He was born, bred and forged into what you see for just that purpose. The only difference this time around is that he’s not fighting alone. There’s the matter of our…ally. Zachariah Blood.”
The name makes her expression become flat for a moment, her eyes darting to the side as she pauses in silence. Sentinel’s head turns just slightly and she lifts an arm, touching his shoulder lightly. He nods and turns back to the view as Talon reorients on us.
Talon: “Our association is dictated by a power higher than our own, a power that expects much from the Silent Destroyer and the Masochist alike. Beyond that, they expect that my dear sister and I work together to see to it that the Unforgiven dominate as is their right. And they shall. One way or the other.”
She takes a step forward as she feels Sentinel’s body shift in the form of his turning around to face the camera. Her smile takes on a darker tilt as from beneath a curtain of black hair, the Silent Destroyer stares into the recording lens. Gray eyes cold and calm, revealed as he lifts a hand to push the dark strands from his face. He brings powerful hands to the waist of Talon, drawing her back against his half-bare chest, a gesture she accepts willingly.
Talon: “Consider yourselves warned. There will not be a repeat of it. From this point forth, anyone in our way will be marked as a threat; one that shall be dealt with expediently and in the most brutal of fashions.”
Finished speaking, she turns to look up at the man-beast behind her, whose stare shifts to her then back to the camera. A cold gaze becomes a glare, the first and only signal to the cameraman to shut down, leaving us in the darkness in which we started.
