Post by Sentinel on Jun 2, 2013 17:17:10 GMT -4
The day is a bright one…sunny and warm. A few puffy white clouds roll across the cyan expanse above but they merely exist for artistic effect, to offset the color of the surface on which they float. The early morning hours are not busy ones on a Sunday and even in a city of Oakland’s size there are few commuters out and about. If people aren’t sleeping, they’re at church or perhaps still partying from the night before. The sun is already issuing bright warmth on the day, the promise of pleasant weather and perhaps an opportunity to break out the grill or take a dip in the pool.
Neither idea, nor any thoughts within a similar vein, seems to be within the mind of APW’s Silent Destroyer, Sentinel. With a heavy hand on the glass doors of an unnamed fitness establishment, the dark giant steps out into the morning light and immediately fishes a pair of Ray-Bans out of the pocket of his jacket. Gray eyes now masked by tinted glass, he stands on the sidewalk for a few moments in his characteristic silence…before someone walks up to him unexpectedly.
Interviewer: ”Excuse me! Sentinel, is it?”
A subtle change in the big man’s posture occurs , leading to him turning toward the person addressing him: a man in a suit, followed by a cameraman. He didn’t resemble a professional interviewer as much as he did a paparazzo attempting to dress the part. Around the fake smile he pointed in the Silent Destroyer’s direction was an expression of smug satisfaction. In the midst of this, the viewpoint changes to that of the cameraman following the interviewer.
Interviewer: ”Wondered if I could get a few words from you about your match last week? Rumors are that the contract you signed along with Zachariah Blood stated that you be given an ‘impossible to lose’ match for your debut to ensure that your APW tenure began with a win! Is there any truth to that?”
Being brutally honest, that particular question took some nuts on the unknown interviewer’s part. Sentinel’s response? A full-on stare at the smaller man over whom he towered. His right hand clenched and unclenched once, but he refused to respond. Sensing that he’d formed a crack in the wall of silence somehow, the interviewer pressed.
Interviewer: ”Is the rumor also true that you were paid a bonus for running The New Dynasty out of the company? A few eyewitnesses proclaim that they saw you and the rest of your group leaving Sienna Harrison’s office before Meltdown started.”
The right hand opens again, fingers curled slightly while agitated tension caused the big man’s shoulders to set. He turns, fully facing the man before him, his stature and cold stare causing the guy to take a step back. The fact that he didn’t have his eyes protruding thanks to a large hand clenching his windpipe seemed to embolden him, though. Someone walks past behind the interviewer, getting Sentinel’s attention briefly before the next query is made.
Interviewer: ”Reliable sources have even speculated that the esteemed general manager of Meltdown is looking to use The Unforgiven to handle a few…problems…within the roster. Let’s hear it, Mr. Silent Destroyer: are you here to win on your own merits or do the dirty work for the Harrison family?!”
Now it’s the interviewer who’s tense, body loose as though he thinks he’ll have to run in a few moments. Sentinel cants his head to the side, like an animal trying to hear a distant noise. Then his head inclines just slightly and a narrow smile opens up on the Silent Destroyer’s face. He lifts the previously-clenched hand and pushes some dark hair out of his face. The expression confuses the questioning man and brings a pause to his postulation.
Two things happen in rapid succession in the next few moments: one is the sound of footsteps again followed by someone grabbing the camera from the tech holding it and knocking said man to the ground. He goes scrambling, hitting his head on the concrete and writhing in foggy pain. The interviewer whirls around to whoever is not holding the camera on him. His eyes widen and his grip relaxes enough that a red-clad hand smacks the tape recorder out of it. The device hits the wall of the fitness center and shatters, falling to the concrete in pieces.
Interviewer: ”Hey, what the f-?!”
The epithet is strangled in his throat as a pair of massive hands closes around his neck and lifts him nearly off his feet. He has little purchase with solid ground as Sentinel grasps his throat malevolently. It’s clear that the Silent Destroyer could end this guy here and now, causing him serious injury if not worse. But that effort isn’t made. Instead, a familiar female voice speaks from behind the camera.
Talon: ”We actually have a few questions for you if you don’t mind, child. You don’t mind, do you?”
Interviewer: ”Sh-ggk! Re-relax that thing, man! I’m…guh!...ju-just doin’ my…j-job here!”
Talon: ”Your job? Funny…but I do not recall actually seeing you anywhere backstage at Meltdown or on any other show for that matter. Come to think of it, no one resembling you even works for the company. Do you know what that makes him, my Destroyer?”
The camera is shifted so that Talon has a full view of Sentinel over the paparazzo’s head. Sentinel tosses his head back to get the hair fully out of his face and snarls maliciously at the man’s back. The would-be interviewer gets out a strangled squeak.
Talon: ”Not only a liar, but an expendable one. Now, considering how much a certain Madman was running off at the mouth recently, one might think that he had something to do with this man. One might consider his partner though I doubt Brian Hollywood has the backbone. It is clear to me that someone seeks to sow doubt, to muster the masses against us via lies and rumors. Whether it’s one of our opponents doesn’t matter. Favored treatment, specialized clauses in our contract and bonuses are kind of accommodations that breed strife, the sorts of things that would make us targets. Why, we wouldn’t be able to take two steps in an APW locker room if any of that were true.”
The interviewer motions as if he has something to say since the grip from Sentinel is tight enough that just breathing takes effort. An apparent gesture from Talon has Sentinel let go of the man who collapses to his knees, coughing as he attempts to speak.
Interviewer: ”You two are c-crazy! I could sue your asses off!”
Talon: ”Oh, you certainly could. But you won’t.”
Interviewer: ”Yeah?! What’s to stop me?!”
Talon’s darkly musical laugh sounds from behind the camera and the paparazzo literally blanches, his skin going pale as the blood drains from his face. He turns to look behind him and up at Sentinel, who puts is right fist into his left hand and loudly cracks his knuckles. A few residual giggles emit before Talon speaks again smoothly.
Talon: ”That.”
She crouches down, making sure the camera is in the man’s face as she continues to speak.
Talon: ”It’s in his contract. My Silent Destroyer speaks to no one in the press nor to anyone on camera. Someone employed with the company would be aware of that and would direct their questions toward me. That makes you an interloper, someone who thought he could get a scoop the same way Hollywood and Madison think they’re going to make an example out of us Monday night. We have little doubt that Hollywood will say his piece before the day is done, whatever that may entail. I don’t expect it to be far beyond the usual good guy drivel, about what bad, bad people we are and how someone should teach us a lesson. We’ve heard it all before.
Madison was quite vocal, though, was he not? He had plenty of harsh words for our intrepid partner, showing that he’s more mouth than brains, quick with a quip and light on the facts. Yet when it came to my dear Silent Destroyer, snarky talk was all he could muster. How many times must it be stated that Sentinel does his speaking in the ring with fists and boots? Is it so hard to imagine someone who lives by the maxim ‘actions speak louder than words’? Perhaps Madison is simply jealous. After all, he doesn’t have a woman like me guiding his career and he doesn’t have the strength, skill or training to match a warrior on the level of Sentinel.”
She scoffs beautifully and takes a step back when the interviewer gets to his feet if only to keep him in frame. He takes one too many steps back and flinches powerfully when he nearly backs into a looming Sentinel.
Talon: ”He can believe what he wants. Every warm body in every packed arena and every opponent who had to be helped or carried to the back after we were finished with them know the truth. It’s a truth Hollywood and Madison will believe in as well after Meltdown.”
Caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place, the man looks between the crimson-haired woman and her monster, trying to decide if getting to his feet would be considered an aggressive action. They watch him like a hawk watching a mouse as he does so but neither moves to act against him.
Talon: ”Let us not completely write off this makeshift tandem, however. Hyped they have been, but seldom is a newly-signed talent hyped for nothing. Their names are known and their accolades may be quite impressive. Before their first match there are several ‘in the know’ who sing their praises...this before Hollywood has bothered to speak word one. You can take from Madison’s less-than-inspired monologue what you will but Zachariah summed it up best: weak attempts to look tough by fighting drunks and poorly-inspired insults.
Will Hollywood even bother to speak? For his considerable faults where public speaking and expression of aggression is concerned, Madison does not seem that he’d take further silence lightly. It would be a considerable shame if strife between the two caused them to lose to The Unforgiven this Monday night. It would…deprive us of fun. Not that there wouldn’t be pleasure in seeing these two implode. We would just prefer to be the source of their destruction is all. Even a slob like you can understand that logic.”
The view shifts again via fade, back to a shot of the scene as a whole as Talon takes the camera from her shoulder and examines it briefly. The man previously carrying it has scrambled back along the concrete until his back is against the wall of the building though his eyes are locked on Talon. With a negligent gesture, she tosses the camera to Sentinel who catches it and examines it himself.
His eyes lock on the would-be interviewer before smashing the camera against the wall over the former cameraman’s head, peppering him with broken plastic. Both are aghast at the destruction of the piece as Sentinel walks past them and takes the arm of Talon, heading down the street with her.
Interviewer: ”You crazy bastard! You know what that thing cost us?! You’re gonna pay for the damages!”
They’d only made it a few paces. Sentinel stopped as Talon looked up at him. The Silent Destroyer lowers his sunglasses and stares at the man, gray eyes narrowed. Talon looks amused, arms folded across her ample chest.
Talon: ”Send the bill to whoever put you up to this. You shouldn’t have invaded our space the way you did, doing errands for whatever malcontent or internet dirt sheet put you up to the task. We owe you nothing. Be happy that you’re walking away under your own power.”
The cameraman dusts the debris off himself and whispers something to the interviewer, casting a wary eye on Sentinel and Talon over his shoulder. The message gets through and both men quickly make their exit without further incident. From behind them, another pair of voices emits.
Lady Rayne: ”Leeching scum.”
Zachariah Blood: ”You’re too gentle with assholes like them. You would’ve been better off putting them in the hospital.”
Sentinel pushes his shades back in place as Talon turns to address their teammates.
Talon: ”Why stoop to the level of someone like Madison?”
Zachariah Blood: ”The difference is that he was looking for a few weaklings to make himself look strong. Those two were asking for it.”
The Silent Destroyer shakes his head, gesturing to Talon who comes over and takes his arm, slinking as close to him as she can, her head laid upon his shoulder. A studded tongue flicks out to sweep over her crimson lips as she simply grins at Blood and Rayne. The younger half of the Sisters of Suffering responds with a withering-yet-mischievous smirk while Blood just stares into the shaded eyes of his partner.
Zachariah Blood: ”Whatever. It doesn’t matter now. We have other business to tend to. Our benefactor wants a meeting before Meltdown goes on.”
Talon: ”His timing leaves something to be desired. No matter. We’ll just have to wait and see if Hollywood finds the courage to speak though whether or not that happens…pain will come to both he and the Madman tomorrow night. Their kind of arrogance and verbosity must be punished in such a way as to dissuade further self-destructive behavior.”
The rest nod in agreement and start off down the street as the scene fades to black.
Neither idea, nor any thoughts within a similar vein, seems to be within the mind of APW’s Silent Destroyer, Sentinel. With a heavy hand on the glass doors of an unnamed fitness establishment, the dark giant steps out into the morning light and immediately fishes a pair of Ray-Bans out of the pocket of his jacket. Gray eyes now masked by tinted glass, he stands on the sidewalk for a few moments in his characteristic silence…before someone walks up to him unexpectedly.
Interviewer: ”Excuse me! Sentinel, is it?”
A subtle change in the big man’s posture occurs , leading to him turning toward the person addressing him: a man in a suit, followed by a cameraman. He didn’t resemble a professional interviewer as much as he did a paparazzo attempting to dress the part. Around the fake smile he pointed in the Silent Destroyer’s direction was an expression of smug satisfaction. In the midst of this, the viewpoint changes to that of the cameraman following the interviewer.
Interviewer: ”Wondered if I could get a few words from you about your match last week? Rumors are that the contract you signed along with Zachariah Blood stated that you be given an ‘impossible to lose’ match for your debut to ensure that your APW tenure began with a win! Is there any truth to that?”
Being brutally honest, that particular question took some nuts on the unknown interviewer’s part. Sentinel’s response? A full-on stare at the smaller man over whom he towered. His right hand clenched and unclenched once, but he refused to respond. Sensing that he’d formed a crack in the wall of silence somehow, the interviewer pressed.
Interviewer: ”Is the rumor also true that you were paid a bonus for running The New Dynasty out of the company? A few eyewitnesses proclaim that they saw you and the rest of your group leaving Sienna Harrison’s office before Meltdown started.”
The right hand opens again, fingers curled slightly while agitated tension caused the big man’s shoulders to set. He turns, fully facing the man before him, his stature and cold stare causing the guy to take a step back. The fact that he didn’t have his eyes protruding thanks to a large hand clenching his windpipe seemed to embolden him, though. Someone walks past behind the interviewer, getting Sentinel’s attention briefly before the next query is made.
Interviewer: ”Reliable sources have even speculated that the esteemed general manager of Meltdown is looking to use The Unforgiven to handle a few…problems…within the roster. Let’s hear it, Mr. Silent Destroyer: are you here to win on your own merits or do the dirty work for the Harrison family?!”
Now it’s the interviewer who’s tense, body loose as though he thinks he’ll have to run in a few moments. Sentinel cants his head to the side, like an animal trying to hear a distant noise. Then his head inclines just slightly and a narrow smile opens up on the Silent Destroyer’s face. He lifts the previously-clenched hand and pushes some dark hair out of his face. The expression confuses the questioning man and brings a pause to his postulation.
Two things happen in rapid succession in the next few moments: one is the sound of footsteps again followed by someone grabbing the camera from the tech holding it and knocking said man to the ground. He goes scrambling, hitting his head on the concrete and writhing in foggy pain. The interviewer whirls around to whoever is not holding the camera on him. His eyes widen and his grip relaxes enough that a red-clad hand smacks the tape recorder out of it. The device hits the wall of the fitness center and shatters, falling to the concrete in pieces.
Interviewer: ”Hey, what the f-?!”
The epithet is strangled in his throat as a pair of massive hands closes around his neck and lifts him nearly off his feet. He has little purchase with solid ground as Sentinel grasps his throat malevolently. It’s clear that the Silent Destroyer could end this guy here and now, causing him serious injury if not worse. But that effort isn’t made. Instead, a familiar female voice speaks from behind the camera.
Talon: ”We actually have a few questions for you if you don’t mind, child. You don’t mind, do you?”
Interviewer: ”Sh-ggk! Re-relax that thing, man! I’m…guh!...ju-just doin’ my…j-job here!”
Talon: ”Your job? Funny…but I do not recall actually seeing you anywhere backstage at Meltdown or on any other show for that matter. Come to think of it, no one resembling you even works for the company. Do you know what that makes him, my Destroyer?”
The camera is shifted so that Talon has a full view of Sentinel over the paparazzo’s head. Sentinel tosses his head back to get the hair fully out of his face and snarls maliciously at the man’s back. The would-be interviewer gets out a strangled squeak.
Talon: ”Not only a liar, but an expendable one. Now, considering how much a certain Madman was running off at the mouth recently, one might think that he had something to do with this man. One might consider his partner though I doubt Brian Hollywood has the backbone. It is clear to me that someone seeks to sow doubt, to muster the masses against us via lies and rumors. Whether it’s one of our opponents doesn’t matter. Favored treatment, specialized clauses in our contract and bonuses are kind of accommodations that breed strife, the sorts of things that would make us targets. Why, we wouldn’t be able to take two steps in an APW locker room if any of that were true.”
The interviewer motions as if he has something to say since the grip from Sentinel is tight enough that just breathing takes effort. An apparent gesture from Talon has Sentinel let go of the man who collapses to his knees, coughing as he attempts to speak.
Interviewer: ”You two are c-crazy! I could sue your asses off!”
Talon: ”Oh, you certainly could. But you won’t.”
Interviewer: ”Yeah?! What’s to stop me?!”
Talon’s darkly musical laugh sounds from behind the camera and the paparazzo literally blanches, his skin going pale as the blood drains from his face. He turns to look behind him and up at Sentinel, who puts is right fist into his left hand and loudly cracks his knuckles. A few residual giggles emit before Talon speaks again smoothly.
Talon: ”That.”
She crouches down, making sure the camera is in the man’s face as she continues to speak.
Talon: ”It’s in his contract. My Silent Destroyer speaks to no one in the press nor to anyone on camera. Someone employed with the company would be aware of that and would direct their questions toward me. That makes you an interloper, someone who thought he could get a scoop the same way Hollywood and Madison think they’re going to make an example out of us Monday night. We have little doubt that Hollywood will say his piece before the day is done, whatever that may entail. I don’t expect it to be far beyond the usual good guy drivel, about what bad, bad people we are and how someone should teach us a lesson. We’ve heard it all before.
Madison was quite vocal, though, was he not? He had plenty of harsh words for our intrepid partner, showing that he’s more mouth than brains, quick with a quip and light on the facts. Yet when it came to my dear Silent Destroyer, snarky talk was all he could muster. How many times must it be stated that Sentinel does his speaking in the ring with fists and boots? Is it so hard to imagine someone who lives by the maxim ‘actions speak louder than words’? Perhaps Madison is simply jealous. After all, he doesn’t have a woman like me guiding his career and he doesn’t have the strength, skill or training to match a warrior on the level of Sentinel.”
She scoffs beautifully and takes a step back when the interviewer gets to his feet if only to keep him in frame. He takes one too many steps back and flinches powerfully when he nearly backs into a looming Sentinel.
Talon: ”He can believe what he wants. Every warm body in every packed arena and every opponent who had to be helped or carried to the back after we were finished with them know the truth. It’s a truth Hollywood and Madison will believe in as well after Meltdown.”
Caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place, the man looks between the crimson-haired woman and her monster, trying to decide if getting to his feet would be considered an aggressive action. They watch him like a hawk watching a mouse as he does so but neither moves to act against him.
Talon: ”Let us not completely write off this makeshift tandem, however. Hyped they have been, but seldom is a newly-signed talent hyped for nothing. Their names are known and their accolades may be quite impressive. Before their first match there are several ‘in the know’ who sing their praises...this before Hollywood has bothered to speak word one. You can take from Madison’s less-than-inspired monologue what you will but Zachariah summed it up best: weak attempts to look tough by fighting drunks and poorly-inspired insults.
Will Hollywood even bother to speak? For his considerable faults where public speaking and expression of aggression is concerned, Madison does not seem that he’d take further silence lightly. It would be a considerable shame if strife between the two caused them to lose to The Unforgiven this Monday night. It would…deprive us of fun. Not that there wouldn’t be pleasure in seeing these two implode. We would just prefer to be the source of their destruction is all. Even a slob like you can understand that logic.”
The view shifts again via fade, back to a shot of the scene as a whole as Talon takes the camera from her shoulder and examines it briefly. The man previously carrying it has scrambled back along the concrete until his back is against the wall of the building though his eyes are locked on Talon. With a negligent gesture, she tosses the camera to Sentinel who catches it and examines it himself.
His eyes lock on the would-be interviewer before smashing the camera against the wall over the former cameraman’s head, peppering him with broken plastic. Both are aghast at the destruction of the piece as Sentinel walks past them and takes the arm of Talon, heading down the street with her.
Interviewer: ”You crazy bastard! You know what that thing cost us?! You’re gonna pay for the damages!”
They’d only made it a few paces. Sentinel stopped as Talon looked up at him. The Silent Destroyer lowers his sunglasses and stares at the man, gray eyes narrowed. Talon looks amused, arms folded across her ample chest.
Talon: ”Send the bill to whoever put you up to this. You shouldn’t have invaded our space the way you did, doing errands for whatever malcontent or internet dirt sheet put you up to the task. We owe you nothing. Be happy that you’re walking away under your own power.”
The cameraman dusts the debris off himself and whispers something to the interviewer, casting a wary eye on Sentinel and Talon over his shoulder. The message gets through and both men quickly make their exit without further incident. From behind them, another pair of voices emits.
Lady Rayne: ”Leeching scum.”
Zachariah Blood: ”You’re too gentle with assholes like them. You would’ve been better off putting them in the hospital.”
Sentinel pushes his shades back in place as Talon turns to address their teammates.
Talon: ”Why stoop to the level of someone like Madison?”
Zachariah Blood: ”The difference is that he was looking for a few weaklings to make himself look strong. Those two were asking for it.”
The Silent Destroyer shakes his head, gesturing to Talon who comes over and takes his arm, slinking as close to him as she can, her head laid upon his shoulder. A studded tongue flicks out to sweep over her crimson lips as she simply grins at Blood and Rayne. The younger half of the Sisters of Suffering responds with a withering-yet-mischievous smirk while Blood just stares into the shaded eyes of his partner.
Zachariah Blood: ”Whatever. It doesn’t matter now. We have other business to tend to. Our benefactor wants a meeting before Meltdown goes on.”
Talon: ”His timing leaves something to be desired. No matter. We’ll just have to wait and see if Hollywood finds the courage to speak though whether or not that happens…pain will come to both he and the Madman tomorrow night. Their kind of arrogance and verbosity must be punished in such a way as to dissuade further self-destructive behavior.”
The rest nod in agreement and start off down the street as the scene fades to black.
