Post by Sentinel on Jun 15, 2013 13:38:25 GMT -4
All the lights, the glitz and glamour, of Fabulous Las Vegas, are infinitely more beautiful on a clear night. Like a jewel in the desert you can see the sparkling from miles off and a view from the air is even more stunning. Even the most uptight of people have to loosen up in a place like this, if only to find out if the saying is true: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. They come, they throw away their dreams for the turn of a card or the roll of a die, and find out that it does indeed stay in Vegas. Hopes, fortunes, lives…they come but they don’t leave. Like a giant roach motel that traps and warps one’s humanity and leaves only a shell to return home with tears and excuses, an empty shell.
And then there are those who are content to watch the suffering sheep being fleeced.
Talon: ”Even from here you can see them, crawling over one another like a stampede of insects, worshipping false idols and swooning before illusions. A million or more tiny Chris Madisons and Chris Hollywoods, thinking they have it all figured out but never realizing until the very end that they’ve been fooling themselves.”
The wind catches the crimson locks of Talon as she stands upon a rocky precipice outside the Vegas city limits, arms folded beneath a well-rounded chest pushed up by red-and-black corset. She smiles hungrily down at the glittering lights in the distance, only illuminated from behind by the headlights of a black pickup truck.
Talon: ”Don’t let the fact that our benefactor thought you might be of some use, Madison, make you stupid. You fought well last Monday without question. It was even enough to earn my Destroyer’s respect, something that shocked the hell out of me. But it was not to be, as we said it would come to pass. Considering that you’re still moving under your own power, the smart move would be to accept the loss and move on. To let it build some character, if you will. But our pretty little matchmaker, Sienna Harrison, she just can’t get over the money and ratings our wars are giving to Meltdown. She can’t let it be, and now you and your half-useless partner are the ones that have to suffer.”
She shakes her head slowly. While she’s briefly silent, we can hear scraping in the distance. It is the harsh sound of something slamming down, then the crackling and wrenching of something being shifted. It repeats over and over to varying degrees of volume before Talon speaks again.
Talon: ”It’s time to set the record straight. Most of the fans out there, while slow on the uptake, should at least hear the truth before they throw their lot in with a mouthy malcontent like you or your barely-cognizant partner.”
She turns to face the camera, walking slowly around the front of the truck with her fingertips running along the sleek black surface.
Talon: ”Ever since the match two weeks ago was over, anyone with functioning ears within reach of you has heard you bitch about Sienna Harrison giving us plum matches to try and amplify our mystique. The Unforgiven needs not ask for, nor be benefited with, the so-called acceptance and urging of Meltdown’s precious little general manager. We were the new team on the block and she threw us a team on their last chance to make something of themselves. Because they did not latch on to said chance and make something of it, we are all of a sudden…favorites.
Now let’s look at the match itself which, yes, Brian Hollywood did lose for your side. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see you rushing in to break up the pin after Sentinel almost drove him through the mat. There was no sign of oh-so-put-upon Chris Madison doing anything to keep hopes of victory alive. Or did we really hurt you that much that you couldn’t lurch into the ring and fall on your partner to break up the pin? Or were you, perhaps, afraid? We may never know. Instead you suck up all your bile and wait until the match is over to spew complaints after the fact. Because that’s what winners do. That’s what real men do. Right?”
Her laughter is harsh, almost violent. She whips her head around to glare at the camera, crimson hair tossing along with the motion, half-covering her features.
Talon: ”You’re not a man. You’re a child. A little boy jacked up on past success and thinking himself entitled to greatness the moment he walks in the door, yet who for the first three weeks of his APW tenure hasn’t won one…damn…match. You’re pathetic. Someone like you, with many times the experience of either Zachariah or my Destroyer should be carrying yourself with more dignity than a petulant child who isn’t getting its way.”
More plunging and scraping from off-camera, enough that Talon pauses what she’s doing to look that way, a thin smile upturning her lips before she gets back to business.
Talon: ”Why our benefactor thinks you have anything to offer the organization is beyond me. But I do not question them. I merely do my part to accomplish the goals they put before us the same as Rayne, Zachariah or Sentinel do. Sienna Harrison would best serve whatever her interests may be where The Unforgiven are concerned by sticking to signing contracts and paychecks and staying out of our way. How in the hell she expects us to rise through the ranks to challenge for the tag titles when we’re facing the same fodder week after week is beyond me. Do you still think we’re being favored knowing that, Madman? Then you live up to your nickname.
Supply us with opponents to destroy and cash for the deed and that’s as far as the relationship goes. If people like you, or Hollywood if he bothers to open his mouth this week, want to read something into that or call our words as bullshit, go ahead. It’s a thin defense for why your ilk gets your asses kicked by us in the middle of the ring, though. Everyone with functioning eyes and a television can see the truth.”
She continues moving around the truck until she’s at the open tailgate. Something seems to be lying on the bed of the truck, wrapped in cloth or some kind of bag. From off to the left of the screen, clouds of dust and dirt fly into view from moment to moment. Talon’s eyes are on the source of this and the noise as she speaks.
Talon: ”Your arrogance made you throw down the challenge and you got what you wanted, just not in the way you wanted it. But that wasn’t enough, and so here we are again. The match which started this ended with a whimper. The fact that there are no rules in our way won’t make it any better for you. But that hasn’t dawned on you yet if your snide remarks are any indication. You’re back to the rumors, insults and excuses again. Aren’t you tired of whining yet, Madison? Must I instruct my Destroyer to break your jaw to spare the world your angry, tearful whimpers? Your skill with fact is sorely deficient although you have plenty of opinions. Then again we all know the saying about those…”
Her hard soles and heels crunch on the gravel and debris as she walks over to where Sentinel is hard at work with a shovel, digging a hole. For what…we can only assume is whatever is in the truck. Talon offers a smile to her Destroyer who smirks in response, sweat beaded on his brow and some dirt clinging to him, before getting back to work.
Talon: ”Ah, to have purpose in life. What’s yours, Madison? Perpetual scapegoat and loose cannon? Sounds about right.”
She sniffs slightly.
Talon: ”Unlike you, we don’t make habits out of saying what isn’t true. Every word spoken about Sentinel or Zachariah from the mouths of any of our group has been dead-on. Apparently, neither you nor that vulture Josh could accept that at face value. But it’s nice to see that you got along so well. Another website writer smearing shit across the internet and a loudmouth who despite his bragging has yet to do anything of note in APW and is looking to stir shit up…a perfect pair. It’s no wonder the two of you got along so well.
I’m sure it would just tickle you, thinking you got under our skin, but that’s your skewed perception running away with you again. Everything we do has a purpose. Our every action is premeditated and planned for. Even if you and Hollywood somehow sail under a lucky star and defeat Sentinel and Zachariah Monday night down in Phoenix…it won’t matter. Not to us, anyway. You were given an opportunity to prove yourself and you fucked it up. What you perceive as a hissy-fit or a lack of self-control on our part is just another brick in the wall. We’ve been preparing for all this for a long time, Madison. It will take more than you to break our stride.
Your tenacity will be the death of you. Mark those words.”
Sentinel catches her eye and she nods, moving to the bed of the truck. He pulls himself out of the hole and helps her pull whatever is lying within down into the dirt. A mighty heave places it in the hole and now the big man is steadily filling the pit with dirt. Talon hops up onto the open tailgate and sits, watching her Destroyer work.
Talon: ”They said once that a lot of the problems in Vegas are buried out here in the desert. How appropriate. I’m sure the lizards and snakes won’t mind one more neighbor before we head south.”
She smiles sweetly, then turns back to the camera.
Talon: ”Perhaps it is time to turn over another card…”
Reaching behind her for a black bag which seemed to have little weight to it, Talon retrieved it and slid off the tailgate as Sentinel continued filling the hole, obscuring whatever was tossed within. She walks back to the hood of the truck and retrieves her rolled-up velvet throw, same as had been seen in a previous promo.
She unfurled the soft material onto the black metal, then proceeded to retrieve a similarly-composed pouch from the same bag. The contents rattled gently when shifted though what she removed could do no such thing: the deck of (presumed) tarot cards. The cards were lain just as before, with the first card to be turned, ‘Sacrifice’, placed face up.
Talon: ”Now, let us move forward to the next card. The anticipation is delicious…”
Directly below the ‘Sacrifice’ card was her next flip. The image of demonic lion sitting on a high pillar as arrows and clawed, demonic hands reached from swirling darkness below, light at its back. The top of the card read ‘Pride’. Talon’s lips purse slightly as she surveys the card for a moment prior to responding.
Talon: ”How curious. You two might have actually become interesting to us for the moment.”
She stares down at the card for several moments, seeming to not realize her own entrancement until there’s a clatter at the back of the truck. Sentinel comes around, a bottle of water poured over his head and chest before he takes a towel to himself, cleaning away dirt and sweat alike. His moving into her presence is enough to bring her out of it, but the look on her face nearly resembles another sinking…like she wants to do something about this rippled-up monster right here and now.
Somehow, she stymies that urge and instead takes his hand, bringing him close. Instinctually his powerful arms go around her as she nods to the cards.
Talon: ”Do you see, my Destroyer? Our opponents have been so marked.”
Sentinel turns gray eyes upon the card and nods slightly. The way his eyes dart up and down the card’s simple-yet-effective artwork shows that his mind is working as hard as Talon’s for that moment.
Talon: ”Foolishness…or strength. They could easily both represent the card in one direction. But those are not attributes that mesh well. Madison and Hollywood are, at best, a dichotomy. All that they have in common are poor records and excuses for their shortcomings. How said that the one who’s the more impressive of the pair, that being Madison, is the one without a win to his credit. Perhaps he should let Hollywood take the lead. It would be a shorter night for the lot of us if that happened.”
Sentinel meets Talon’s eyes and nods slowly. She smiles in response and leans up to meet his lips for a moment before drawing back down. He releases her from his embrace and moves away, going for something inside the truck’s cab as Talon turns back to us.
Talon: ”This will prove to be an interesting battle Monday night. That much I am certain of now.”
Her tongue stud clicks against her pearly fangs audibly.
Talon: ”Madison, there’s nothing that can save you from the onus on your APW career at this point. Even if you eke out the win over us in Phoenix, the resultant talk will be the same: it was the law of averages. You’ve already been beaten twice by us. By the law of the universe you had to eventually luck out and Monday in Phoenix just happened to be your night. Hollywood? If I were you I’d curl up in the corner and cover my head, hoping that Zachariah doesn’t decide to play kick the can with your skull. You’re not ready to tangle again with the new dominant force in APW. You scraped past Gargano the same way you were scraped off the mat after my Destroyer tried to put you through it.
Monday will just be another day in the life of the soon-to-be APW World Tag Team Champions, The Unforgiven. We shall come, we shall see and we shall destroy. What peons like you train and scratch and claw and pray for each and every week is as natural as breathing to us. Dominance. Victory. Destruction. Our confidence is earned. Yours is near-blasphemous hubris. And this Monday, you will choke on it. Monday night…we END this!”
Talon walks out of sight around the truck at that point, the camera shifting to where Sentinel had been working, the recently-stirred and neatly-replaced dirt covering some dark secret to join the rest in this wasteland. We fade to black on that image.
And then there are those who are content to watch the suffering sheep being fleeced.
Talon: ”Even from here you can see them, crawling over one another like a stampede of insects, worshipping false idols and swooning before illusions. A million or more tiny Chris Madisons and Chris Hollywoods, thinking they have it all figured out but never realizing until the very end that they’ve been fooling themselves.”
The wind catches the crimson locks of Talon as she stands upon a rocky precipice outside the Vegas city limits, arms folded beneath a well-rounded chest pushed up by red-and-black corset. She smiles hungrily down at the glittering lights in the distance, only illuminated from behind by the headlights of a black pickup truck.
Talon: ”Don’t let the fact that our benefactor thought you might be of some use, Madison, make you stupid. You fought well last Monday without question. It was even enough to earn my Destroyer’s respect, something that shocked the hell out of me. But it was not to be, as we said it would come to pass. Considering that you’re still moving under your own power, the smart move would be to accept the loss and move on. To let it build some character, if you will. But our pretty little matchmaker, Sienna Harrison, she just can’t get over the money and ratings our wars are giving to Meltdown. She can’t let it be, and now you and your half-useless partner are the ones that have to suffer.”
She shakes her head slowly. While she’s briefly silent, we can hear scraping in the distance. It is the harsh sound of something slamming down, then the crackling and wrenching of something being shifted. It repeats over and over to varying degrees of volume before Talon speaks again.
Talon: ”It’s time to set the record straight. Most of the fans out there, while slow on the uptake, should at least hear the truth before they throw their lot in with a mouthy malcontent like you or your barely-cognizant partner.”
She turns to face the camera, walking slowly around the front of the truck with her fingertips running along the sleek black surface.
Talon: ”Ever since the match two weeks ago was over, anyone with functioning ears within reach of you has heard you bitch about Sienna Harrison giving us plum matches to try and amplify our mystique. The Unforgiven needs not ask for, nor be benefited with, the so-called acceptance and urging of Meltdown’s precious little general manager. We were the new team on the block and she threw us a team on their last chance to make something of themselves. Because they did not latch on to said chance and make something of it, we are all of a sudden…favorites.
Now let’s look at the match itself which, yes, Brian Hollywood did lose for your side. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see you rushing in to break up the pin after Sentinel almost drove him through the mat. There was no sign of oh-so-put-upon Chris Madison doing anything to keep hopes of victory alive. Or did we really hurt you that much that you couldn’t lurch into the ring and fall on your partner to break up the pin? Or were you, perhaps, afraid? We may never know. Instead you suck up all your bile and wait until the match is over to spew complaints after the fact. Because that’s what winners do. That’s what real men do. Right?”
Her laughter is harsh, almost violent. She whips her head around to glare at the camera, crimson hair tossing along with the motion, half-covering her features.
Talon: ”You’re not a man. You’re a child. A little boy jacked up on past success and thinking himself entitled to greatness the moment he walks in the door, yet who for the first three weeks of his APW tenure hasn’t won one…damn…match. You’re pathetic. Someone like you, with many times the experience of either Zachariah or my Destroyer should be carrying yourself with more dignity than a petulant child who isn’t getting its way.”
More plunging and scraping from off-camera, enough that Talon pauses what she’s doing to look that way, a thin smile upturning her lips before she gets back to business.
Talon: ”Why our benefactor thinks you have anything to offer the organization is beyond me. But I do not question them. I merely do my part to accomplish the goals they put before us the same as Rayne, Zachariah or Sentinel do. Sienna Harrison would best serve whatever her interests may be where The Unforgiven are concerned by sticking to signing contracts and paychecks and staying out of our way. How in the hell she expects us to rise through the ranks to challenge for the tag titles when we’re facing the same fodder week after week is beyond me. Do you still think we’re being favored knowing that, Madman? Then you live up to your nickname.
Supply us with opponents to destroy and cash for the deed and that’s as far as the relationship goes. If people like you, or Hollywood if he bothers to open his mouth this week, want to read something into that or call our words as bullshit, go ahead. It’s a thin defense for why your ilk gets your asses kicked by us in the middle of the ring, though. Everyone with functioning eyes and a television can see the truth.”
She continues moving around the truck until she’s at the open tailgate. Something seems to be lying on the bed of the truck, wrapped in cloth or some kind of bag. From off to the left of the screen, clouds of dust and dirt fly into view from moment to moment. Talon’s eyes are on the source of this and the noise as she speaks.
Talon: ”Your arrogance made you throw down the challenge and you got what you wanted, just not in the way you wanted it. But that wasn’t enough, and so here we are again. The match which started this ended with a whimper. The fact that there are no rules in our way won’t make it any better for you. But that hasn’t dawned on you yet if your snide remarks are any indication. You’re back to the rumors, insults and excuses again. Aren’t you tired of whining yet, Madison? Must I instruct my Destroyer to break your jaw to spare the world your angry, tearful whimpers? Your skill with fact is sorely deficient although you have plenty of opinions. Then again we all know the saying about those…”
Her hard soles and heels crunch on the gravel and debris as she walks over to where Sentinel is hard at work with a shovel, digging a hole. For what…we can only assume is whatever is in the truck. Talon offers a smile to her Destroyer who smirks in response, sweat beaded on his brow and some dirt clinging to him, before getting back to work.
Talon: ”Ah, to have purpose in life. What’s yours, Madison? Perpetual scapegoat and loose cannon? Sounds about right.”
She sniffs slightly.
Talon: ”Unlike you, we don’t make habits out of saying what isn’t true. Every word spoken about Sentinel or Zachariah from the mouths of any of our group has been dead-on. Apparently, neither you nor that vulture Josh could accept that at face value. But it’s nice to see that you got along so well. Another website writer smearing shit across the internet and a loudmouth who despite his bragging has yet to do anything of note in APW and is looking to stir shit up…a perfect pair. It’s no wonder the two of you got along so well.
I’m sure it would just tickle you, thinking you got under our skin, but that’s your skewed perception running away with you again. Everything we do has a purpose. Our every action is premeditated and planned for. Even if you and Hollywood somehow sail under a lucky star and defeat Sentinel and Zachariah Monday night down in Phoenix…it won’t matter. Not to us, anyway. You were given an opportunity to prove yourself and you fucked it up. What you perceive as a hissy-fit or a lack of self-control on our part is just another brick in the wall. We’ve been preparing for all this for a long time, Madison. It will take more than you to break our stride.
Your tenacity will be the death of you. Mark those words.”
Sentinel catches her eye and she nods, moving to the bed of the truck. He pulls himself out of the hole and helps her pull whatever is lying within down into the dirt. A mighty heave places it in the hole and now the big man is steadily filling the pit with dirt. Talon hops up onto the open tailgate and sits, watching her Destroyer work.
Talon: ”They said once that a lot of the problems in Vegas are buried out here in the desert. How appropriate. I’m sure the lizards and snakes won’t mind one more neighbor before we head south.”
She smiles sweetly, then turns back to the camera.
Talon: ”Perhaps it is time to turn over another card…”
Reaching behind her for a black bag which seemed to have little weight to it, Talon retrieved it and slid off the tailgate as Sentinel continued filling the hole, obscuring whatever was tossed within. She walks back to the hood of the truck and retrieves her rolled-up velvet throw, same as had been seen in a previous promo.
She unfurled the soft material onto the black metal, then proceeded to retrieve a similarly-composed pouch from the same bag. The contents rattled gently when shifted though what she removed could do no such thing: the deck of (presumed) tarot cards. The cards were lain just as before, with the first card to be turned, ‘Sacrifice’, placed face up.
Talon: ”Now, let us move forward to the next card. The anticipation is delicious…”
Directly below the ‘Sacrifice’ card was her next flip. The image of demonic lion sitting on a high pillar as arrows and clawed, demonic hands reached from swirling darkness below, light at its back. The top of the card read ‘Pride’. Talon’s lips purse slightly as she surveys the card for a moment prior to responding.
Talon: ”How curious. You two might have actually become interesting to us for the moment.”
She stares down at the card for several moments, seeming to not realize her own entrancement until there’s a clatter at the back of the truck. Sentinel comes around, a bottle of water poured over his head and chest before he takes a towel to himself, cleaning away dirt and sweat alike. His moving into her presence is enough to bring her out of it, but the look on her face nearly resembles another sinking…like she wants to do something about this rippled-up monster right here and now.
Somehow, she stymies that urge and instead takes his hand, bringing him close. Instinctually his powerful arms go around her as she nods to the cards.
Talon: ”Do you see, my Destroyer? Our opponents have been so marked.”
Sentinel turns gray eyes upon the card and nods slightly. The way his eyes dart up and down the card’s simple-yet-effective artwork shows that his mind is working as hard as Talon’s for that moment.
Talon: ”Foolishness…or strength. They could easily both represent the card in one direction. But those are not attributes that mesh well. Madison and Hollywood are, at best, a dichotomy. All that they have in common are poor records and excuses for their shortcomings. How said that the one who’s the more impressive of the pair, that being Madison, is the one without a win to his credit. Perhaps he should let Hollywood take the lead. It would be a shorter night for the lot of us if that happened.”
Sentinel meets Talon’s eyes and nods slowly. She smiles in response and leans up to meet his lips for a moment before drawing back down. He releases her from his embrace and moves away, going for something inside the truck’s cab as Talon turns back to us.
Talon: ”This will prove to be an interesting battle Monday night. That much I am certain of now.”
Her tongue stud clicks against her pearly fangs audibly.
Talon: ”Madison, there’s nothing that can save you from the onus on your APW career at this point. Even if you eke out the win over us in Phoenix, the resultant talk will be the same: it was the law of averages. You’ve already been beaten twice by us. By the law of the universe you had to eventually luck out and Monday in Phoenix just happened to be your night. Hollywood? If I were you I’d curl up in the corner and cover my head, hoping that Zachariah doesn’t decide to play kick the can with your skull. You’re not ready to tangle again with the new dominant force in APW. You scraped past Gargano the same way you were scraped off the mat after my Destroyer tried to put you through it.
Monday will just be another day in the life of the soon-to-be APW World Tag Team Champions, The Unforgiven. We shall come, we shall see and we shall destroy. What peons like you train and scratch and claw and pray for each and every week is as natural as breathing to us. Dominance. Victory. Destruction. Our confidence is earned. Yours is near-blasphemous hubris. And this Monday, you will choke on it. Monday night…we END this!”
Talon walks out of sight around the truck at that point, the camera shifting to where Sentinel had been working, the recently-stirred and neatly-replaced dirt covering some dark secret to join the rest in this wasteland. We fade to black on that image.
