Post by Knight on Jun 9, 2014 17:37:01 GMT -6
Mistress Lovecraft: Do you suppose, in ancient Rome, the Emperor occasionally tired of feeding Christians to lions and opted instead to just let two of the beasts battle to the death?
Victor Kross looks to The Mistress, a smile dancing mischievously across his face.
Kross: You mean the lions, right?
Lovecraft suppresses a laugh and shakes her head.
Mistress Lovecraft: You know what I mean.
Kross laughs. He turns his eyes to Knight, who stands, unmoving, behind the bench upon which his Mistress is seated. The three are...well, two of them are people watching in New Orleans's Jackson Square. Knight appears to be doing little other than quietly guarding his Mistress. He appears oblivious to the throngs of tourist milling about the area. Kross turns to Knight, then shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee.
Kross: "The amphitheater, one consecrated to triumphs, entertainments, and the impious worship of pagan gods, is now dedicated to the sufferings of the martyrs purified from impious superstitions."
Mistress Lovecraft: What?
Kross: Never mind. Went to Italy a couple of years ago. There's a plaque there now that...anyways, yes...VOW is pitting lion against lion for the sake of the Christians. Somebody in management fears both Scott and Joka, so they're hoping at least part of the problem will go away with a nice little bloodbath.
The Mistress nods, taking her attention away from one of the many street artists that populate the Place d'Armes. She looks back to Knight, then to Kross.
Mistress Lovecraft: I know Frei...however he may feel about the carnage, he cannot deny Scott's ability in the ring. As for Sky Sangue, she gets off on the carnage as well. Putting two specimen like Knight and Joka in the main event was an obvious win for them. Two men without a trace of fear between them, unwilling to back down, feeding off of each other's pain and abuse. It's just good TV, you know.
Kross: I know I'd watch...if I weren't already, of course. Scott...
The big man cocks his head and turns to the millionaire.
Kross: How do YOU feel about reaching Main Event status?
Knight pauses, pondering the question. A quick glance to Lovecraft is followed by a slight shake of the head.
Knight: I care not where or when my matches are held. I care not who I oppose...
Mistress Lovecraft: Most of the time.
Knight looks to The Mistress, who smiles and shakes her head. Scott's face darkens.
Knight: Jarek...I will get my hands on him again, and I will teach him respect, one shattered bone at a time.
Kross: I saw my recommendation came up a bit short.
Lovecraft's eyes flash with anger, but she quickly recovers with a soft smile.
Mistress Lovecraft: Whitaker's path will cross Scott's soon enough. When the time is right, that cockroach will be stomped. For now, we must focus our attention on the clown.
Victor Kross nods and raises his coffee cup, then turns the empty container upside down in disappointment. Lilith arcs an eyebrow and turns to Knight.
Mistress Lovecraft: Scott, dear, could you go get us some more coffee?
Knight: Of course, m'lady.
Kross pulls a bill from a pocket and passes it to Knight, who takes it with a nod. He disappears across the square, headed for a nearby cafe. Kross watches him until he is well out of earshot before speaking again.
Kross: How is the project coming along?
Lovecraft looks away, thinking.
Mistress Lovecraft: The loss to PKA was unfortunate, but a rollup is far from a failure. Rage seems to keep making Scott stronger and tougher. His focus is slipping at times, but he is quick to correct himself at my urgings. The key to maintaining control is a strong will to guide the subject, it would seem.
Kross nods thoughtfully as he looks across the square.
Kross: Which is exactly why I asked your assistance in this "trial run" so to speak. I knew if anyone could keep a subject in line, it would be you. I must say, your Knight has been quite the find.
Mistress Lovecraft: A weapon is only as dangerous as the hand wielding it.
Kross: Indeed...ah, thank you, Scott.
Knight has returned with coffees in hand. He distributes cups to Kross and Lovecraft before taking his position behind his Mistress. Lovecraft takes a sip and nods approvingly.
Mistress Lovecraft: As satisfying as always.
Kross: Mhmm...Lilith, what do you think of us all heading to Minnesota a couple of days early this week? I'm thinking that finding a place there might be more cost-effective than wearing out my private jet.
Mistress Lovecraft: All of us? I assume the whole Krewe will be attending?
Kross: Of course...I always need my entourage. Besides, who doesn't want to watch Knight beat the unholy hell out of a clown?
Lovecraft starts to reply, but Kross has already pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. He holds up a finger as a miffed Lovecraft shrugs and lifts the coffee to her lips.
Kross: Hello, Monica? Jeff?! Why the hell are you answering...oh, my bad.
Victor looks at the phone, shrugs, and tries dialing again. He rises from the bench and walks as he talks.
Kross: Moni...hey, yeah...I need you to start on a few things for me...
Knight looks to Lovecraft, who shrugs and returns her gaze to her coffee.
Mistress Lovecraft: You know Victor...always has something up his sleeve...
Victor Kross looks to The Mistress, a smile dancing mischievously across his face.
Kross: You mean the lions, right?
Lovecraft suppresses a laugh and shakes her head.
Mistress Lovecraft: You know what I mean.
Kross laughs. He turns his eyes to Knight, who stands, unmoving, behind the bench upon which his Mistress is seated. The three are...well, two of them are people watching in New Orleans's Jackson Square. Knight appears to be doing little other than quietly guarding his Mistress. He appears oblivious to the throngs of tourist milling about the area. Kross turns to Knight, then shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee.
Kross: "The amphitheater, one consecrated to triumphs, entertainments, and the impious worship of pagan gods, is now dedicated to the sufferings of the martyrs purified from impious superstitions."
Mistress Lovecraft: What?
Kross: Never mind. Went to Italy a couple of years ago. There's a plaque there now that...anyways, yes...VOW is pitting lion against lion for the sake of the Christians. Somebody in management fears both Scott and Joka, so they're hoping at least part of the problem will go away with a nice little bloodbath.
The Mistress nods, taking her attention away from one of the many street artists that populate the Place d'Armes. She looks back to Knight, then to Kross.
Mistress Lovecraft: I know Frei...however he may feel about the carnage, he cannot deny Scott's ability in the ring. As for Sky Sangue, she gets off on the carnage as well. Putting two specimen like Knight and Joka in the main event was an obvious win for them. Two men without a trace of fear between them, unwilling to back down, feeding off of each other's pain and abuse. It's just good TV, you know.
Kross: I know I'd watch...if I weren't already, of course. Scott...
The big man cocks his head and turns to the millionaire.
Kross: How do YOU feel about reaching Main Event status?
Knight pauses, pondering the question. A quick glance to Lovecraft is followed by a slight shake of the head.
Knight: I care not where or when my matches are held. I care not who I oppose...
Mistress Lovecraft: Most of the time.
Knight looks to The Mistress, who smiles and shakes her head. Scott's face darkens.
Knight: Jarek...I will get my hands on him again, and I will teach him respect, one shattered bone at a time.
Kross: I saw my recommendation came up a bit short.
Lovecraft's eyes flash with anger, but she quickly recovers with a soft smile.
Mistress Lovecraft: Whitaker's path will cross Scott's soon enough. When the time is right, that cockroach will be stomped. For now, we must focus our attention on the clown.
Victor Kross nods and raises his coffee cup, then turns the empty container upside down in disappointment. Lilith arcs an eyebrow and turns to Knight.
Mistress Lovecraft: Scott, dear, could you go get us some more coffee?
Knight: Of course, m'lady.
Kross pulls a bill from a pocket and passes it to Knight, who takes it with a nod. He disappears across the square, headed for a nearby cafe. Kross watches him until he is well out of earshot before speaking again.
Kross: How is the project coming along?
Lovecraft looks away, thinking.
Mistress Lovecraft: The loss to PKA was unfortunate, but a rollup is far from a failure. Rage seems to keep making Scott stronger and tougher. His focus is slipping at times, but he is quick to correct himself at my urgings. The key to maintaining control is a strong will to guide the subject, it would seem.
Kross nods thoughtfully as he looks across the square.
Kross: Which is exactly why I asked your assistance in this "trial run" so to speak. I knew if anyone could keep a subject in line, it would be you. I must say, your Knight has been quite the find.
Mistress Lovecraft: A weapon is only as dangerous as the hand wielding it.
Kross: Indeed...ah, thank you, Scott.
Knight has returned with coffees in hand. He distributes cups to Kross and Lovecraft before taking his position behind his Mistress. Lovecraft takes a sip and nods approvingly.
Mistress Lovecraft: As satisfying as always.
Kross: Mhmm...Lilith, what do you think of us all heading to Minnesota a couple of days early this week? I'm thinking that finding a place there might be more cost-effective than wearing out my private jet.
Mistress Lovecraft: All of us? I assume the whole Krewe will be attending?
Kross: Of course...I always need my entourage. Besides, who doesn't want to watch Knight beat the unholy hell out of a clown?
Lovecraft starts to reply, but Kross has already pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. He holds up a finger as a miffed Lovecraft shrugs and lifts the coffee to her lips.
Kross: Hello, Monica? Jeff?! Why the hell are you answering...oh, my bad.
Victor looks at the phone, shrugs, and tries dialing again. He rises from the bench and walks as he talks.
Kross: Moni...hey, yeah...I need you to start on a few things for me...
Knight looks to Lovecraft, who shrugs and returns her gaze to her coffee.
Mistress Lovecraft: You know Victor...always has something up his sleeve...
