Post by Zachariah Blood on Jul 26, 2013 21:07:35 GMT -4
A black screen quickly distorts from the effects of snowy static and wavering bars of mingling color, a grating cacophony of noise wails out, assaulting our senses. Not unlike last time, the distortions last for several moments before fading in a manner visually reminiscent of a television being shut off. Darkness explodes within darkness, a lighter tone of black serving as a ‘living’ background, referred to as such by the fact that just seeing it with nothing against it is enough for us to know that it is ‘on’. A blinking cursor fades into view in the upper left corner, and as with the previous message delivered in this way, we can almost hear the tapping of fingertips on the keyboard as words grown on the screen one letter at a time:
”Let the masses revel, their false idols jubilant over their hollow victory. Let those who sit above in shadow release long-held breaths and in the same moment reach for something to settle their tortured stomachs. Let all who seek our level of notoriety and influence wipe cold sweat from scarred brows.”
Static threatens to take over again but only succeeds in distorting the words into nothingness, the discord limited to the orange-tinted lettering but delivered with the same ferocity. The screen clears, and the words come forth again.
”Because the champions have slipped the quickly-closing noose set to squeeze the life from the sham that is their existence. Last time, they picked the bones in a fashion very unlike the so-called ‘Dying Breed’ they’re meant to represent. Shams. Charlatans. Champions on borrowed time.”
The last three phrases glare in red as static overtakes the screen for a moment, sending it to proper black before it cuts back on again moments later. The quality of the recording smacks of a handheld digital camcorder being used, but it doesn’t affect how clearly we see and hear the voices of three-quarters of The Unforgiven as they storm through the backstage hallway mere minutes after their loss in Huntsville.
To simply look at them is to not know that they just lost their first-ever title match in APW. To simply hear them is to pick up tones and word choices devoid of disappointment or, really, anything negative beyond Zachariah Blood’s hatred of humanity at large, Rayne’s contempt for anyone or anything in her way and Talon’s calm-yet-ferocious delivery. And you don’t hear Sentinel at all because…he’s freakin’ Sentinel. It doesn’t get clear enough for us to see or hear anything properly until the four are nearing the door to their locker room, but once they do…
Zachariah Blood: “I can already hear them now, demanding reasons, refusing explanation. They’re hard-assed from morning to evening, Sunday to Sunday. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure: after tonight, the Dying Breed will be spending every waking moment looking over their shoulders for us, knowing that we’re one wrong move from taking their straps. Even the benefactor can’t argue with that.”
Despite the obviously difficult loss, Zachariah Blood looks…well, ecstatic isn’t really the word. The guy never smiles so any emotion related to happiness even peripherally just doesn’t speak well for any mood he might be in. Let us call him…focused. Lady Rayne, never minding the fact that her charge is dripping with sweat and the remnants of four disgusting opponents, is latched on to his powerful arm as he walks, easily matching his pace even in her heels.
Zachariah Blood: ”And now, we further our ends and those of someone who can make the detour worth our while.”
Blood’s palms smack together and he rubs his hands together in a gesture of foreboding and lethal intent. The simple action draws out the tip of Rayne’s tongue to wet her glossed lips in anticipation.
Lady Rayne: ”I admit to some trepidation when I first got wind of this…idea. But maybe, just maybe, this deal is worth the ink on the contract. At least it had better be.”
Talon: ”That should have been your first consideration before even agreeing. And at what point were you planning on involving us in this little accord?”
Zachariah’s hand is on the latch-like handle to the door leading into the locker room when he catches the disdain in Talon’s voice. He turns to look over his shoulder at her through the curtain of sweat-soaked, blond-streaked black hair and raises a brow. Rayne rolls her eyes with a hand going to her brow but doesn’t reply verbally. She leaves that to her ‘pet’.
Zachariah Blood: ”Got something on your brain, ‘big sister’? Spill it.”
Talon: ”Just what I said. You went and accepted this errand from Harrison and Parker without so much as a word our way. Correct me if I’m wrong, but was our goal not the World Tag Team Championships, something we fell short of acquiring tonight? Should it not now be gearing up for the next opportunity to do so?”
Blood snorts, taking his hand from the knob.
Zachariah Blood: ”So you’re worried about dual focus or some bullshit like that? Who was it that set the mighty Destroyer up with a match tomorrow night against Captain Dipshit himself, ‘Madman’ Chris Madison? The pot and the kettle, Talon.”
Lady Rayne: ”He’s right, sis. Don’t judge.”
Talon: ”There’s a large difference between settling a score and being messengers for someone who is untrustworthy at best.”
Lady Rayne: ”Now is NOT the time, Talon.”
Frustration is bubbling in Rayne’s tone but Talon is just as calm as can be. Zachariah takes a step past Rayne, shrugging off her touch as he meets Talon’s eye.
Zachariah Blood: ”We made a decision that will further our agenda and if they renege on their side of the deal, we’ll take them apart…just like we’ll take Logan Alexander apart between the bells next Asylum.”
Talon: ”Just like that, hm? Do you even know who Logan Alexander is?”
Zachariah Blood: ”The hell is that supposed to mean?”
Talon: ”I’ll take that as a no. I figured as much. Two on one or not, Zachariah, there will be no easy win against him, no matter what you might think. I suggest you get your head on straight before we end up with another embarrassing mark in our loss column.”
We can actually hear Blood’s teeth grinding as his jaw sets and he takes another step forward…
Zachariah Blood: ”You listen to me…”
…but before he completes his retort, Sentinel steps in between him and Talon. He towers over his tag team partner by almost a full foot and is staring hard down at Blood. There’s no retreat in the Masochist, who simply averts his ire toward the Silent Destroyer.
Zachariah Blood: ”What? Something to say, partner?”
Sentinel points sharply at the locker room door, not budging from between Blood and Talon. The latter’s arms are folded across her chest as she speaks again, this time more calmly and smoothly.
Talon: ”It goes like this, Zachariah: we’re dealing with someone who’s been to the top of the mountain before. If it were as simple as facing and defeating him, either you or Sentinel alone would have sufficed. Think for a moment: why would Parker specifically ask for a handicap match instead of a one-on-one contest if it Logan were an easy mark? You’re a sharp kid. Give that some thought for a moment.”
Zachariah looks like he wants to try his luck at tearing past Sentinel but the big man’s stoic demeanor and Talon’s well-selected words cut through a bit. He snorts irritably as Rayne comes up to put her hands on his upper arms, the light attention helping to make the rage dwindle.
Talon: ”We can win this, but only if we know what we’re getting into. I suggest you get a few DVDs from the front office and spend a day perusing…see if it doesn’t change your outlook a bit. Losing a match for the straps is something we can get around. We’d not faced either team before and we learned from the experience. All is well with that side of things. But losing to one man because of arrogance or unwillingness to prepare? Our benefactor will NOT look fondly on such a thing.”
Lady Rayne: ”She’s right, pet. Let’s finish up here and put in for those clips…”
Zachariah agrees silently, seeming reluctant even now that sense has been put behind concern. Rayne draws him toward the door as she opens it, pushing inward.
Lady Rayne: ”…so that we get them in time to make use of them.”
Zachariah Blood: ”Fine.”
The couple disappears into the locker room as Talon comes around her charge and stands before him, shaking her head. Dealing with her sister and the Masochist has been trying obviously. Sentinel steps forward and puts his hands to her waist, prompting her to lean back against him. Both stand wordlessly before we fade to black once again.
Cut to a clip from the following week, far closer to Asylum emanating from Little Rock. Zachariah is standing in a stark, gray room with only a battered wooden chair in it beyond himself while clad in his ring gear. His back is to the camera and his arms at his sides, showing the myriad collections of ink he has adorning his compact-yet-powerful form. His hands grip the back of the chair tightly enough that as he takes each deep, measured breath the strength of his grip causes the wood to audibly crack. Shoulders rise and fall before he starts to address the camera without giving it the benefit of his stare.
Zachariah Blood: ”At the urging of Talon, I took the time to look over some of Logan Alexander’s work here in APW and even a little bit of it from elsewhere. Sorry to say, I ain’t impressed. Maybe…”
His head tilts back as he stares up at the drop ceiling, marred by a bit of water damage and age, some of the foam-like tiles broken in places.
Zachariah Blood: ”…maybe I’m just not easily impressed. Hell, I’ve faced champions across the world and some weren’t half as good as the belts around their waists would have you think. Logic dictates that if the strap is rightfully in your possession, you must have something going for you, right? Logan is the Tap-Out Champion, so it stands to reason that when it comes to throw down technically and get some chain-wrestling going, he can hang with the best of them.”
Some of Zachariah’s words visibly appear over him on the screen, jumping about like the distorted static and interference from before…legible but contorted. They appear moment to moment as they’re spoken, then disappear to make room for the next.
Zachariah Blood: ”Logic.”
Snorting and walking around to the other side of the chair, Zachariah puts a booted foot on the seat and leans in, arms folded atop his bent leg.
Zachariah Blood: ”It also says that in a two-on-one situation, most inherent advantages are negated. Someone wants you taught a lesson, Logan. Someone wants you to suffer. You probably know who and why already. We didn’t ask questions when the offer was put forth to us because of one simple factor: we were able to write our own check for payment. The Unforgiven have a purpose here in APW and at every show on which we appear, in every match that we compete, we take a step closer toward that purpose. The rest of us, sans one, have said as much before.
To most people, that just makes us mercenaries to which I respond that everyone has a price. Even you. Truth is, it wouldn’t have taken a whole lot of nudging for me to accept the opportunity to break someone. It’s what I do and what I revel in. And against someone who just might be capable of hurting me in return? Twice as delicious. I watched the clips and I know how good you can be. And if you’ve turned half an eye to Meltdown over the last few months, you know how good myself and my partner can be. Sentinel is undefeated in singles matches and as a tag team we’re the most dangerous force in this company, bar none. Not the Sindicate, not the Dying Breed, not the Black Hand…none of them compare to The Unforgiven, the act of a black-hearted God seeking blood as payment for his dark blessings.”
Zachariah steps back now, looking at the rickety piece of furniture sitting crooked before him on the hard tile floor. It’s a little off-balance thanks to a piece missing from the bottom of one of the legs but aside from that it’s pretty sturdy at least in design. Blood applies pressure here and there with his hands as he addresses Logan, the emphasized words still glaring out visibly from moment to moment.
Zachariah Blood: ”Have you taken the time to wonder yet? Or do you already know why you’re in this situation, preparing to share the ring with the Patron Saint of Suffering and the Silence Behind the Violence? This is going to be one of those rare cases where knowing the reason why isn’t going to help. The slightest shred of indecision or errant wonder quickly becomes a pressure point for one of us to assault, the first piece we take out of your ass en route to your bitter end.
Knowledge might have helped if Tyler and Aubrey had the guts to do their own dirty work. You might have talked or even fought your way out of this situation against either or both of them. Not this time. Not against us. Coming so close to tasting our first title reign here and having it cut short by dubious tactics has left us hungry. Ravenous, even. And what do you think even a minor decimation of your person would do for us in that regard? I daresay it might make someone think that one of us is capable of lifting that strap from your possession. And thus we’ve found another pressure point for us to manipulate.”
In going with his words, Zachariah finds a weak spot on the chair’s frame and brings his fist down on it sharply, cracking the well-formed wood sharply. Another strike in a similar fashion to a different spot…and the chair falls to pieces. He stares down at the debris and then back to the camera.
Zachariah Blood: ”It’s all winning for The Unforgiven, Logan, even in the middle of the chaos that is APW these days. If we defeat you, we win. If we hurt you, we win. If you win but leave with a limp, we win. No matter how the bones land, you are softened…made ready for further retribution…and we further our agenda.
We win.”
Zachariah walks over the pile of broken wood as the words ‘we win’ linger on the screen before the final fade.
”Let the masses revel, their false idols jubilant over their hollow victory. Let those who sit above in shadow release long-held breaths and in the same moment reach for something to settle their tortured stomachs. Let all who seek our level of notoriety and influence wipe cold sweat from scarred brows.”
Static threatens to take over again but only succeeds in distorting the words into nothingness, the discord limited to the orange-tinted lettering but delivered with the same ferocity. The screen clears, and the words come forth again.
”Because the champions have slipped the quickly-closing noose set to squeeze the life from the sham that is their existence. Last time, they picked the bones in a fashion very unlike the so-called ‘Dying Breed’ they’re meant to represent. Shams. Charlatans. Champions on borrowed time.”
The last three phrases glare in red as static overtakes the screen for a moment, sending it to proper black before it cuts back on again moments later. The quality of the recording smacks of a handheld digital camcorder being used, but it doesn’t affect how clearly we see and hear the voices of three-quarters of The Unforgiven as they storm through the backstage hallway mere minutes after their loss in Huntsville.
To simply look at them is to not know that they just lost their first-ever title match in APW. To simply hear them is to pick up tones and word choices devoid of disappointment or, really, anything negative beyond Zachariah Blood’s hatred of humanity at large, Rayne’s contempt for anyone or anything in her way and Talon’s calm-yet-ferocious delivery. And you don’t hear Sentinel at all because…he’s freakin’ Sentinel. It doesn’t get clear enough for us to see or hear anything properly until the four are nearing the door to their locker room, but once they do…
Zachariah Blood: “I can already hear them now, demanding reasons, refusing explanation. They’re hard-assed from morning to evening, Sunday to Sunday. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure: after tonight, the Dying Breed will be spending every waking moment looking over their shoulders for us, knowing that we’re one wrong move from taking their straps. Even the benefactor can’t argue with that.”
Despite the obviously difficult loss, Zachariah Blood looks…well, ecstatic isn’t really the word. The guy never smiles so any emotion related to happiness even peripherally just doesn’t speak well for any mood he might be in. Let us call him…focused. Lady Rayne, never minding the fact that her charge is dripping with sweat and the remnants of four disgusting opponents, is latched on to his powerful arm as he walks, easily matching his pace even in her heels.
Zachariah Blood: ”And now, we further our ends and those of someone who can make the detour worth our while.”
Blood’s palms smack together and he rubs his hands together in a gesture of foreboding and lethal intent. The simple action draws out the tip of Rayne’s tongue to wet her glossed lips in anticipation.
Lady Rayne: ”I admit to some trepidation when I first got wind of this…idea. But maybe, just maybe, this deal is worth the ink on the contract. At least it had better be.”
Talon: ”That should have been your first consideration before even agreeing. And at what point were you planning on involving us in this little accord?”
Zachariah’s hand is on the latch-like handle to the door leading into the locker room when he catches the disdain in Talon’s voice. He turns to look over his shoulder at her through the curtain of sweat-soaked, blond-streaked black hair and raises a brow. Rayne rolls her eyes with a hand going to her brow but doesn’t reply verbally. She leaves that to her ‘pet’.
Zachariah Blood: ”Got something on your brain, ‘big sister’? Spill it.”
Talon: ”Just what I said. You went and accepted this errand from Harrison and Parker without so much as a word our way. Correct me if I’m wrong, but was our goal not the World Tag Team Championships, something we fell short of acquiring tonight? Should it not now be gearing up for the next opportunity to do so?”
Blood snorts, taking his hand from the knob.
Zachariah Blood: ”So you’re worried about dual focus or some bullshit like that? Who was it that set the mighty Destroyer up with a match tomorrow night against Captain Dipshit himself, ‘Madman’ Chris Madison? The pot and the kettle, Talon.”
Lady Rayne: ”He’s right, sis. Don’t judge.”
Talon: ”There’s a large difference between settling a score and being messengers for someone who is untrustworthy at best.”
Lady Rayne: ”Now is NOT the time, Talon.”
Frustration is bubbling in Rayne’s tone but Talon is just as calm as can be. Zachariah takes a step past Rayne, shrugging off her touch as he meets Talon’s eye.
Zachariah Blood: ”We made a decision that will further our agenda and if they renege on their side of the deal, we’ll take them apart…just like we’ll take Logan Alexander apart between the bells next Asylum.”
Talon: ”Just like that, hm? Do you even know who Logan Alexander is?”
Zachariah Blood: ”The hell is that supposed to mean?”
Talon: ”I’ll take that as a no. I figured as much. Two on one or not, Zachariah, there will be no easy win against him, no matter what you might think. I suggest you get your head on straight before we end up with another embarrassing mark in our loss column.”
We can actually hear Blood’s teeth grinding as his jaw sets and he takes another step forward…
Zachariah Blood: ”You listen to me…”
…but before he completes his retort, Sentinel steps in between him and Talon. He towers over his tag team partner by almost a full foot and is staring hard down at Blood. There’s no retreat in the Masochist, who simply averts his ire toward the Silent Destroyer.
Zachariah Blood: ”What? Something to say, partner?”
Sentinel points sharply at the locker room door, not budging from between Blood and Talon. The latter’s arms are folded across her chest as she speaks again, this time more calmly and smoothly.
Talon: ”It goes like this, Zachariah: we’re dealing with someone who’s been to the top of the mountain before. If it were as simple as facing and defeating him, either you or Sentinel alone would have sufficed. Think for a moment: why would Parker specifically ask for a handicap match instead of a one-on-one contest if it Logan were an easy mark? You’re a sharp kid. Give that some thought for a moment.”
Zachariah looks like he wants to try his luck at tearing past Sentinel but the big man’s stoic demeanor and Talon’s well-selected words cut through a bit. He snorts irritably as Rayne comes up to put her hands on his upper arms, the light attention helping to make the rage dwindle.
Talon: ”We can win this, but only if we know what we’re getting into. I suggest you get a few DVDs from the front office and spend a day perusing…see if it doesn’t change your outlook a bit. Losing a match for the straps is something we can get around. We’d not faced either team before and we learned from the experience. All is well with that side of things. But losing to one man because of arrogance or unwillingness to prepare? Our benefactor will NOT look fondly on such a thing.”
Lady Rayne: ”She’s right, pet. Let’s finish up here and put in for those clips…”
Zachariah agrees silently, seeming reluctant even now that sense has been put behind concern. Rayne draws him toward the door as she opens it, pushing inward.
Lady Rayne: ”…so that we get them in time to make use of them.”
Zachariah Blood: ”Fine.”
The couple disappears into the locker room as Talon comes around her charge and stands before him, shaking her head. Dealing with her sister and the Masochist has been trying obviously. Sentinel steps forward and puts his hands to her waist, prompting her to lean back against him. Both stand wordlessly before we fade to black once again.
Cut to a clip from the following week, far closer to Asylum emanating from Little Rock. Zachariah is standing in a stark, gray room with only a battered wooden chair in it beyond himself while clad in his ring gear. His back is to the camera and his arms at his sides, showing the myriad collections of ink he has adorning his compact-yet-powerful form. His hands grip the back of the chair tightly enough that as he takes each deep, measured breath the strength of his grip causes the wood to audibly crack. Shoulders rise and fall before he starts to address the camera without giving it the benefit of his stare.
Zachariah Blood: ”At the urging of Talon, I took the time to look over some of Logan Alexander’s work here in APW and even a little bit of it from elsewhere. Sorry to say, I ain’t impressed. Maybe…”
His head tilts back as he stares up at the drop ceiling, marred by a bit of water damage and age, some of the foam-like tiles broken in places.
Zachariah Blood: ”…maybe I’m just not easily impressed. Hell, I’ve faced champions across the world and some weren’t half as good as the belts around their waists would have you think. Logic dictates that if the strap is rightfully in your possession, you must have something going for you, right? Logan is the Tap-Out Champion, so it stands to reason that when it comes to throw down technically and get some chain-wrestling going, he can hang with the best of them.”
Some of Zachariah’s words visibly appear over him on the screen, jumping about like the distorted static and interference from before…legible but contorted. They appear moment to moment as they’re spoken, then disappear to make room for the next.
Zachariah Blood: ”Logic.”
Snorting and walking around to the other side of the chair, Zachariah puts a booted foot on the seat and leans in, arms folded atop his bent leg.
Zachariah Blood: ”It also says that in a two-on-one situation, most inherent advantages are negated. Someone wants you taught a lesson, Logan. Someone wants you to suffer. You probably know who and why already. We didn’t ask questions when the offer was put forth to us because of one simple factor: we were able to write our own check for payment. The Unforgiven have a purpose here in APW and at every show on which we appear, in every match that we compete, we take a step closer toward that purpose. The rest of us, sans one, have said as much before.
To most people, that just makes us mercenaries to which I respond that everyone has a price. Even you. Truth is, it wouldn’t have taken a whole lot of nudging for me to accept the opportunity to break someone. It’s what I do and what I revel in. And against someone who just might be capable of hurting me in return? Twice as delicious. I watched the clips and I know how good you can be. And if you’ve turned half an eye to Meltdown over the last few months, you know how good myself and my partner can be. Sentinel is undefeated in singles matches and as a tag team we’re the most dangerous force in this company, bar none. Not the Sindicate, not the Dying Breed, not the Black Hand…none of them compare to The Unforgiven, the act of a black-hearted God seeking blood as payment for his dark blessings.”
Zachariah steps back now, looking at the rickety piece of furniture sitting crooked before him on the hard tile floor. It’s a little off-balance thanks to a piece missing from the bottom of one of the legs but aside from that it’s pretty sturdy at least in design. Blood applies pressure here and there with his hands as he addresses Logan, the emphasized words still glaring out visibly from moment to moment.
Zachariah Blood: ”Have you taken the time to wonder yet? Or do you already know why you’re in this situation, preparing to share the ring with the Patron Saint of Suffering and the Silence Behind the Violence? This is going to be one of those rare cases where knowing the reason why isn’t going to help. The slightest shred of indecision or errant wonder quickly becomes a pressure point for one of us to assault, the first piece we take out of your ass en route to your bitter end.
Knowledge might have helped if Tyler and Aubrey had the guts to do their own dirty work. You might have talked or even fought your way out of this situation against either or both of them. Not this time. Not against us. Coming so close to tasting our first title reign here and having it cut short by dubious tactics has left us hungry. Ravenous, even. And what do you think even a minor decimation of your person would do for us in that regard? I daresay it might make someone think that one of us is capable of lifting that strap from your possession. And thus we’ve found another pressure point for us to manipulate.”
In going with his words, Zachariah finds a weak spot on the chair’s frame and brings his fist down on it sharply, cracking the well-formed wood sharply. Another strike in a similar fashion to a different spot…and the chair falls to pieces. He stares down at the debris and then back to the camera.
Zachariah Blood: ”It’s all winning for The Unforgiven, Logan, even in the middle of the chaos that is APW these days. If we defeat you, we win. If we hurt you, we win. If you win but leave with a limp, we win. No matter how the bones land, you are softened…made ready for further retribution…and we further our agenda.
We win.”
Zachariah walks over the pile of broken wood as the words ‘we win’ linger on the screen before the final fade.
