Post by Zachariah Blood on May 27, 2013 10:02:40 GMT -4
It appears to be the same room from which Talon and the monstrous Sentinel said their piece over a couple of skull-mounted candles and an odd collection of graphic tarot-like cards. The same high, arched window still laden with precipitation from the storm the previous evening, the same tall antique chair from which Talon delivered her monologue while the Silent Destroyer loomed like a shadow behind her…the same banquet table stretching out before said chair. The only item upon said surface is Rayne’s black cane, which is soon retrieved by the lady herself as she walks into the frame and slides easily onto the edge of the table.
A long leather jacket hugs her athletic figure, covering her from shoulders nearly to the floor. The heels of her leather boots add a few inches, though, showing at least that much before she perches herself on the table. Crossing one leg over the other, a brief glimpse of woven black thread wrapped around soft skin shown before she rearranges the coat, she sets her black cane upon her lap and leans back on her hands slightly. A door closes off-camera and the ‘smaller half’ of The Unforgiven walks into frame. Loose, ripped black jeans and a sleeveless black Under Armour top hold well to his body as he comes up to Rayne, setting a hand on the table on either side of her and bowing his head. He seems to be awaiting her permission to begin, and the gesture makes her smile.
Lady Rayne: ”Oh, no…not this time. I’m eager enough to hear how you’re going to rip these two apart that you don’t have to wait for my word.”
Delicate-looking hands clasp Zachariah’s head, allowing Rayne to lean down and press painted lips to his dark-haired head. She guides her pet into looking at her again and nods once. Once she lets go, Zachariah turns to us.
Zachariah Blood: ”They’re not worth it.”
Lady Rayne: ”Oh? The New Dynasty or almost everyone else?”
Zachariah Blood: ”Yes.”
Rayne laughs off her charge’s comment, finding it humorous. There’s no humor in the eyes of the Masochist, though. He means every acid-laced word.
Zachariah Blood: ”For just a moment, I thought I was done with this sort of thing. For all the bitching and moaning that people in this business do about respect, you would think that, despite the fact they’re walking into a massacre, these two mush-mouthed clowns would hop in front of the camera for a couple minutes. Even if it’s to squeeze out a blubbering ‘please don’t hurt us’ or to make some empty threat about how they’re going to kick our tails in.”
The seething amplifies with each word until Zachariah’s anger is bubbling over like a too-full pot on the stove.
Zachariah Blood: ”Instead, we get…this.”
The Masochist spreads his arms wide and Rayne calmly looks around, barely suppressing a smile. As if an answer to his gesture, a soft wind whistles past outside…literally the only sound we hear for the empty moments until Zachariah speaks up again.
Zachariah Blood: ”Nothing. Not a peep out of the so-called New Dynasty. My Mistress’s sister called you two the First Sacrifice, but you aren’t even worth that moniker. You don’t even deserve a name. If you want to break it down to the very core of the matter, you don’t deserve to have these hands beating you senseless and squeezing the breath out of you, either. Why should a fighter of my caliber soil my hands on dregs like you who can’t even be hacked to plead for your lives?”
Lady Rayne: ”That kind of talk isn’t going to make them speak up, pet. I think you’re scaring them.”
Blood casts his attention in his Lady’s direction for a moment where her barely-stifled giggle sneaks out despite her best attempts. He snorts in a partially-amused but mostly-irritated fashion…not at her, but at Bankmanship and Demarvelous and their silence, before turning his gaze back to the camera. As he speaks further, he walks the length of the table, leaving Rayne in the distance. Along the back walls, bordering the window, are shelves bearing books and along the side walls are paintings and the odd plant or trinket upon a small table…but there’s little else of note here.
Zachariah Blood: ”Scaring them? They were voiding their bowels as soon as they saw the card, Mistress, and I don’t blame them. Most sane people wouldn’t want to face a man with Sentinel’s size and disposition, being unable to draw a bead on him since the guy never utters a word. Half the time I think he’s holding his breath in promos so we can’t even hear that".
There’s another muffled giggle from Rayne’s direction. Zachariah’s dark smirk is as close as he comes to a smile at the same humor.
Zachariah Blood: ”And that doesn’t even count me, a pain-loving borderline-psychopath beholden to a pretty lady with a stick. I could bark at these quivering man-children all day and they still wouldn’t get what I’m thinking or where I’m coming from. Because no one else on the planet thinks like I do. No one else is motivated the way I am. These two are guided by a lust for money and power which, despite their wrestling ability, thin as it is, makes them no different from anyone else. Me? I’m in this business to deal…and feel…pain.
Our reputations aren’t known here and truth told I’m fine with that. It makes it more fun for me to have to rebuild the dark mystique I’ve carried with me everywhere else. It’s like Talon’s dear brother likes to say: ‘Fear makes a man careful and that’s why I don’t want them to be afraid of me. Otherwise they’ll be prepared for me’. If these two knew what they were up against, they wouldn’t show up. But they have no idea. The worst part of it all where they’re concerned lies in the fact that, simply put, they can’t hurt me. They can’t give me what I crave, the universal truth, the ultimate motivator: pain.”
Lady Rayne: ”Not like I can, at least.”
Zachariah Blood: ”No one can like you can.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and sucks in a slow breath, letting it fill his lungs before releasing it. Turning and pressing his palms down against the table with head bowed, Zachariah is silent for several moments, a time in which Rayne speaks up.
Lady Rayne: ”You don’t even know how to hurt someone, boys. Think on the idiocy of that for a moment: wrestlers…who don’t know how to deal out pain. Not even the fake pain that the fans accept as reality in their moments of escapism thanks to our efforts. In the places where my pet Masochist has roamed, the back alleys, the arenas of Japan and many more domestically, you wouldn’t last two minutes. This, my sacrificial lambs…”
She gestures toward the self-entranced Zachariah…
Lady Rayne: ”…is Pain Personified. It’s not a cute moniker to sell t-shirts or fast food. No, it is the stark, unmitigated truth. This is a world-class athlete who has abdicated more titles for lack of competition than you’ll ever win if you wrestle into your 60s. He is one of, if not the most, ruthless men in the business today. Your only hope is to come not to wrestle, but to fight. Bring weapons and be prepared to battle as if your life is on the line, because it may very well be.”
Zachariah Blood: ”They’re better off dealing with Sentinel than with me. The larger, stronger half of this team, the Silent Destroyer…is the merciful one. That should scare you enough to soil your trousers further far as I’m concerned.”
Lady Rayne: ”After all, the smaller, quicker man is supposedly the weak link, right?”
He snorts in a semblance of laughter, as close as he usually gets to it, and keeps walking while Rayne smirks at his back. She goes back to examining and playing with her cane as Zachariah keeps walking.
Zachariah Blood: ”Like my partner ‘said’ last night: we have a purpose here. And you two are an example. I can’t put it any more succinctly than that. That’s where the similarity in our approaches will stay, though. He’ll put forth the effort necessary to get the job done unless Talon decides she wants to see more. Lady Rayne will simply let me off my leash and I’ll tear you to pieces until I’ve had enough. Neither of you are worth anything to me. Sentinel isn’t there to back me up or cover my ass. No, he’s there because he’s one of the only men on the planet who can stop me if necessary.
In case that’s too subtle for you two brainless meat puppets, let me make it clearer: I’m the dangerous one.”
By now he has reached the end of the table, coming around to the front and leaning against the edge, heavily-tattooed arms folded across his chest. He regards the camera and by extension his opponents and the fans watching, with complete distaste.
Zachariah Blood: ”I’m wasting my breath here. Like every other peon who’s dared to get in front of me, you two clowns won’t get it until I beat it into you. If eviscerating opponents like you weren’t so amusing…”
He leaves it at that as we can just make out Rayne at the far end of the table sliding off the edge and making her way down at a leisurely pace, each step thumping audibly.
Zachariah Blood: ”…no, I’d still despise the lot of you. I can count the truly impressive opponents I’ve had on one hand. I’m not optimistic about finding one of that caliber here.”
Lady Rayne: ”That’s quitter talk, pet.”
Rayne has moved to lay across the table behind Zachariah on her side, her fishnet-sheathed legs half-revealed again though she makes no move to cover them. The camera can’t see anything it shouldn’t anyway.
Zachariah Blood: ”That’s reality, Mistress. wAw may have been a cesspool of politicking and old bastards trying to act like they still had something to offer in the ring, but at least there I was offered decent competition. If this is all APW has to offer us…”
Lady Rayne: ”Because ‘they’ wish us to. You said yourself that our reputations have not followed us. Give it time. You’ll be able to sate your appetite for destruction in time. There is no need for impatience or petulance.”
A retort is begging to escape but Zachariah has no cross words for the Lady who guides him. Deep down, he knows she is right for he does not question her words. She pushes up on one hand and reaches for his dark hair, grabbing a handful and pulling him in close to her. And there’s no resistance to speak of as the pain-wielding warrior allows himself to be drawn by her. Happily, even.
Lady Rayne: ”Finish this. Your lady has needs after watching you verbally decimate these fools. The thought of you physically rendering them asunder ignites my own hunger.”
Zachariah Blood: ”Flattery, Mistress, will get you everywhere.”
She lets go a finger at a time and Zachariah straightens up, his attention back on us.
Zachariah Blood: ”But you two, Demarvelous and Bankmanship? There isn’t enough money or muscle in the world that can save you two from The Unforgiven. Monday night will see the lot of you become the shortest dynasty in history itself. As for the rest of APW, I suggest they pay close attention to what happens to you two. Not only as a warning to future adversaries of ours, but to the bosses as well. You get what you pay for.
Welcome to our pain.”
The last image we see is Rayne sitting up, cane clutched in both hands and a pink tongue sweeping over her lips while Zachariah removes his top and spreads his arms wide, presenting himself for the will of his Lady. She rears back with the dark weapon and swings it down fiercely…
…bringing a hissing breath and a growl of satisfaction from Zachariah as we fade to black.
A long leather jacket hugs her athletic figure, covering her from shoulders nearly to the floor. The heels of her leather boots add a few inches, though, showing at least that much before she perches herself on the table. Crossing one leg over the other, a brief glimpse of woven black thread wrapped around soft skin shown before she rearranges the coat, she sets her black cane upon her lap and leans back on her hands slightly. A door closes off-camera and the ‘smaller half’ of The Unforgiven walks into frame. Loose, ripped black jeans and a sleeveless black Under Armour top hold well to his body as he comes up to Rayne, setting a hand on the table on either side of her and bowing his head. He seems to be awaiting her permission to begin, and the gesture makes her smile.
Lady Rayne: ”Oh, no…not this time. I’m eager enough to hear how you’re going to rip these two apart that you don’t have to wait for my word.”
Delicate-looking hands clasp Zachariah’s head, allowing Rayne to lean down and press painted lips to his dark-haired head. She guides her pet into looking at her again and nods once. Once she lets go, Zachariah turns to us.
Zachariah Blood: ”They’re not worth it.”
Lady Rayne: ”Oh? The New Dynasty or almost everyone else?”
Zachariah Blood: ”Yes.”
Rayne laughs off her charge’s comment, finding it humorous. There’s no humor in the eyes of the Masochist, though. He means every acid-laced word.
Zachariah Blood: ”For just a moment, I thought I was done with this sort of thing. For all the bitching and moaning that people in this business do about respect, you would think that, despite the fact they’re walking into a massacre, these two mush-mouthed clowns would hop in front of the camera for a couple minutes. Even if it’s to squeeze out a blubbering ‘please don’t hurt us’ or to make some empty threat about how they’re going to kick our tails in.”
The seething amplifies with each word until Zachariah’s anger is bubbling over like a too-full pot on the stove.
Zachariah Blood: ”Instead, we get…this.”
The Masochist spreads his arms wide and Rayne calmly looks around, barely suppressing a smile. As if an answer to his gesture, a soft wind whistles past outside…literally the only sound we hear for the empty moments until Zachariah speaks up again.
Zachariah Blood: ”Nothing. Not a peep out of the so-called New Dynasty. My Mistress’s sister called you two the First Sacrifice, but you aren’t even worth that moniker. You don’t even deserve a name. If you want to break it down to the very core of the matter, you don’t deserve to have these hands beating you senseless and squeezing the breath out of you, either. Why should a fighter of my caliber soil my hands on dregs like you who can’t even be hacked to plead for your lives?”
Lady Rayne: ”That kind of talk isn’t going to make them speak up, pet. I think you’re scaring them.”
Blood casts his attention in his Lady’s direction for a moment where her barely-stifled giggle sneaks out despite her best attempts. He snorts in a partially-amused but mostly-irritated fashion…not at her, but at Bankmanship and Demarvelous and their silence, before turning his gaze back to the camera. As he speaks further, he walks the length of the table, leaving Rayne in the distance. Along the back walls, bordering the window, are shelves bearing books and along the side walls are paintings and the odd plant or trinket upon a small table…but there’s little else of note here.
Zachariah Blood: ”Scaring them? They were voiding their bowels as soon as they saw the card, Mistress, and I don’t blame them. Most sane people wouldn’t want to face a man with Sentinel’s size and disposition, being unable to draw a bead on him since the guy never utters a word. Half the time I think he’s holding his breath in promos so we can’t even hear that".
There’s another muffled giggle from Rayne’s direction. Zachariah’s dark smirk is as close as he comes to a smile at the same humor.
Zachariah Blood: ”And that doesn’t even count me, a pain-loving borderline-psychopath beholden to a pretty lady with a stick. I could bark at these quivering man-children all day and they still wouldn’t get what I’m thinking or where I’m coming from. Because no one else on the planet thinks like I do. No one else is motivated the way I am. These two are guided by a lust for money and power which, despite their wrestling ability, thin as it is, makes them no different from anyone else. Me? I’m in this business to deal…and feel…pain.
Our reputations aren’t known here and truth told I’m fine with that. It makes it more fun for me to have to rebuild the dark mystique I’ve carried with me everywhere else. It’s like Talon’s dear brother likes to say: ‘Fear makes a man careful and that’s why I don’t want them to be afraid of me. Otherwise they’ll be prepared for me’. If these two knew what they were up against, they wouldn’t show up. But they have no idea. The worst part of it all where they’re concerned lies in the fact that, simply put, they can’t hurt me. They can’t give me what I crave, the universal truth, the ultimate motivator: pain.”
Lady Rayne: ”Not like I can, at least.”
Zachariah Blood: ”No one can like you can.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and sucks in a slow breath, letting it fill his lungs before releasing it. Turning and pressing his palms down against the table with head bowed, Zachariah is silent for several moments, a time in which Rayne speaks up.
Lady Rayne: ”You don’t even know how to hurt someone, boys. Think on the idiocy of that for a moment: wrestlers…who don’t know how to deal out pain. Not even the fake pain that the fans accept as reality in their moments of escapism thanks to our efforts. In the places where my pet Masochist has roamed, the back alleys, the arenas of Japan and many more domestically, you wouldn’t last two minutes. This, my sacrificial lambs…”
She gestures toward the self-entranced Zachariah…
Lady Rayne: ”…is Pain Personified. It’s not a cute moniker to sell t-shirts or fast food. No, it is the stark, unmitigated truth. This is a world-class athlete who has abdicated more titles for lack of competition than you’ll ever win if you wrestle into your 60s. He is one of, if not the most, ruthless men in the business today. Your only hope is to come not to wrestle, but to fight. Bring weapons and be prepared to battle as if your life is on the line, because it may very well be.”
Zachariah Blood: ”They’re better off dealing with Sentinel than with me. The larger, stronger half of this team, the Silent Destroyer…is the merciful one. That should scare you enough to soil your trousers further far as I’m concerned.”
Lady Rayne: ”After all, the smaller, quicker man is supposedly the weak link, right?”
He snorts in a semblance of laughter, as close as he usually gets to it, and keeps walking while Rayne smirks at his back. She goes back to examining and playing with her cane as Zachariah keeps walking.
Zachariah Blood: ”Like my partner ‘said’ last night: we have a purpose here. And you two are an example. I can’t put it any more succinctly than that. That’s where the similarity in our approaches will stay, though. He’ll put forth the effort necessary to get the job done unless Talon decides she wants to see more. Lady Rayne will simply let me off my leash and I’ll tear you to pieces until I’ve had enough. Neither of you are worth anything to me. Sentinel isn’t there to back me up or cover my ass. No, he’s there because he’s one of the only men on the planet who can stop me if necessary.
In case that’s too subtle for you two brainless meat puppets, let me make it clearer: I’m the dangerous one.”
By now he has reached the end of the table, coming around to the front and leaning against the edge, heavily-tattooed arms folded across his chest. He regards the camera and by extension his opponents and the fans watching, with complete distaste.
Zachariah Blood: ”I’m wasting my breath here. Like every other peon who’s dared to get in front of me, you two clowns won’t get it until I beat it into you. If eviscerating opponents like you weren’t so amusing…”
He leaves it at that as we can just make out Rayne at the far end of the table sliding off the edge and making her way down at a leisurely pace, each step thumping audibly.
Zachariah Blood: ”…no, I’d still despise the lot of you. I can count the truly impressive opponents I’ve had on one hand. I’m not optimistic about finding one of that caliber here.”
Lady Rayne: ”That’s quitter talk, pet.”
Rayne has moved to lay across the table behind Zachariah on her side, her fishnet-sheathed legs half-revealed again though she makes no move to cover them. The camera can’t see anything it shouldn’t anyway.
Zachariah Blood: ”That’s reality, Mistress. wAw may have been a cesspool of politicking and old bastards trying to act like they still had something to offer in the ring, but at least there I was offered decent competition. If this is all APW has to offer us…”
Lady Rayne: ”Because ‘they’ wish us to. You said yourself that our reputations have not followed us. Give it time. You’ll be able to sate your appetite for destruction in time. There is no need for impatience or petulance.”
A retort is begging to escape but Zachariah has no cross words for the Lady who guides him. Deep down, he knows she is right for he does not question her words. She pushes up on one hand and reaches for his dark hair, grabbing a handful and pulling him in close to her. And there’s no resistance to speak of as the pain-wielding warrior allows himself to be drawn by her. Happily, even.
Lady Rayne: ”Finish this. Your lady has needs after watching you verbally decimate these fools. The thought of you physically rendering them asunder ignites my own hunger.”
Zachariah Blood: ”Flattery, Mistress, will get you everywhere.”
She lets go a finger at a time and Zachariah straightens up, his attention back on us.
Zachariah Blood: ”But you two, Demarvelous and Bankmanship? There isn’t enough money or muscle in the world that can save you two from The Unforgiven. Monday night will see the lot of you become the shortest dynasty in history itself. As for the rest of APW, I suggest they pay close attention to what happens to you two. Not only as a warning to future adversaries of ours, but to the bosses as well. You get what you pay for.
Welcome to our pain.”
The last image we see is Rayne sitting up, cane clutched in both hands and a pink tongue sweeping over her lips while Zachariah removes his top and spreads his arms wide, presenting himself for the will of his Lady. She rears back with the dark weapon and swings it down fiercely…
*CRACK!*
…bringing a hissing breath and a growl of satisfaction from Zachariah as we fade to black.
