Post by Knight on Jun 21, 2014 8:51:01 GMT -6
The Mistress: Those who fail to study history are doomed to repeat it. Jarek, my dear, I have a history lesson for you. And no, I am not speaking of the second edition of Breakthrough, where my Knight emerged victorious in your first encounter. I speak today of a time long ago, when many more men carried the title of Knight.
The Mistress looks over her shoulder at Scott Knight, who is leaning casually against the wall behind the couple. A leather jacket is wrapped around his frame and a hand is wrapped around a beer bottle. His eyes are slowly patrolling the street. The duo are standing outside the parking garage of the Roy Wilkins Auditorium shortly after the fifth Breakthrough. An occasional sound of a passing car engine breaks the silence as The Mistress looks her Knight over. She tilts her head, her eyes trailing up and down The Blackguard before she returns her attention to the camera.
The Mistress: I suppose many of VoW's fans will take offense to my Knight's actions tonight. Fueled by the firestorm that Brett Carson stirred up with his actions recently, and his namedrop of Knight during his inflammatory speech, I suppose many of you sheep will assume that tonight's devastation was a similar act of hatred. And you all...
A smile plays across Lovecraft's face. She glances again at Knight, who finishes off the beer and tosses it into a nearby trashcan with a shrug.
The Mistress: ...could not be further from the truth. Obviously, both myself and Knight bear no ill will toward any practitioner of what you vanilla masses call "alternative lifestyles". I know more than my fair share about "deviant" acts. Tonight, however, what Scott did to Bobby Backdoor...that was an act of mercy.
Knight clears his throat and gestures with a nod of his head. Looking past the camera, Lovecraft raises a hand and waves.
The Mistress: And here comes our ride. They will, of course, wait until I finish my statement, so no need to rush. But back to the matter at hand...acts of mercy. Now, a moment ago I mentioned the knights of old. Every one of you has your mental image of the noble warrior in his shining suit of armor, sword and shield in hand. What many fail to realize is the brutal truth of medieval battles. Clad as they were in heavy layers of metal, it was extremely difficult to land a clean, decisive blow with the sword. Thus, another weapon, capable of sliding between armor plates and ribs alike was carried. Killing a man with one of these blades was considered...yes, I shall say it again...an act of mercy. Scott?
Lovecraft turns to look at Knight, who shrugs himself off of the wall. He reaches into his jacket's inner pocket and withdraws a long, tapering dagger. Flipping it so that the blade lands in his palm, he offers the hilt to The Mistress. She takes the weapon and holds it for the camera to see. She runs her fingers along the blade before tapping black fingernails on the point.
The Mistress: The misericorde...the name comes from the Latin "misericordia", or act of mercy. Easily capable of sliding through the visor of a helm and then the brain...or directly into the windpipe as a form of euthanasia. It was considered an act of mercy to a fallen foe. Rather than endure a long, painful death, a victim's demise could be mercifully expedited. What happened to Backdoor tonight, that was an end to his suffering.
Think about it...Bobby's mind has been troubled by Carson's words, perhaps even more than his body was wounded by Carson's actions. Rather than allow Bobby Backdoor to continue to languish and deteriorate, my Knight has mercifully removed him from the field of battle. But at Exposure, Jarek...
Lovecraft pauses and looks at the blade in her hand. She seems transfixed by the light playing along the edges as she turns it this way and that. The smile returns as she raises her gaze once more to the camera.
The Mistress: ...expect no such mercy. Tonight my Knight hospitalized a man simply for being in the same ring as him. At Exposure, Jarek, you enter that very ring as a target of my contempt and malice. Whether he chooses to think of you as the impudent bastard who dared lay a hand on me, or the pitiful slime whose disgusting presence cost him his only loss in VoW, know that Scott has nothing but hatred for you, Jarek. As do I. And that is only fuel to the fire that is my dear Sco...
Jeff: Hey, you guys ready?
The Mistress pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head as Jeff walks into the frame. Knight again shrugs off of the wall, but stops at Lovecraft's raised hand. Jeff looks from the pair to the camera and realization slowly sinks in. With a whispered "oops", he slinks backward until gone from view again. Knight plucks his gear bag from the ground beside him and tosses it off-camera. A brief scream follows a thud, bringing smiles to the faces of both Knight and Lovecraft. With a shake of her head, The Mistress returns to the camera again.
The Mistress: Goddamnit, Jeff...just get back in the car. We'll be along in a moment. Now, as I was saying...Scott, dear, what the hell was I saying?
Knight steps forward, taking the misericorde from his Mistress in the process. He slides it back into place within his jacket as he answers her query.
Knight: I believe, m'lady, you were about to expound upon the intentions I have toward Whitaker.
Lovecraft nods approvingly. Her hands now free, she reaches down to her belt and withdraws her Caress. Holding the grip with one hand, the other drags lazily along the lengths of chain.
The Mistress: Ah, yes, thank you. Jarek, your destruction at Exposure will not be like the swift, merciful strike laid upon Backdoor. Your suffering will be prolonged...drawn out...protracted...
She arcs an eyebrow.
The Mistress: Have I made my point yet? Next week, Jarek, you will suffer at the hands of my Knight. I hope that you can at least take your punishment like a man. But Scott will be the one dealing this punishment.
Lovecraft raises the flail into view. A wicked smile dances across her face as she winds a length of chain around one finger. After a glance to Knight, her attention returns to the camera.
The Mistress: This sweet caress of metallic judgement...shall punish those unworthy of earning my noble blessing. But in order to prove your worth, you must survive Exposure. And in the mood we both are in, Jarek, you will be jealous of Backdoor. You will beg for an act of mercy, but find only suffering. You will cry for a humane death, but know only torture. Save your breath, Jarek. If anything, you should pray. Pray, if you are so inclined, that you survive. Because I defy you to survive the night...or the Knight. Come, Scott.
As Lovecraft departs, following the sounds of Jeff wheezing, Knight falls into step behind her. He then pauses, turning to face the camera again.
Knight: There will be no act of mercy next week, Jarek. You will lay, broken, on the battlefield and bleed out like a wounded...
The Mistress: SCOTT!
Knight: Coming, m'lady.
Knight smiles to the camera as he steps out of view into the night.
The Mistress looks over her shoulder at Scott Knight, who is leaning casually against the wall behind the couple. A leather jacket is wrapped around his frame and a hand is wrapped around a beer bottle. His eyes are slowly patrolling the street. The duo are standing outside the parking garage of the Roy Wilkins Auditorium shortly after the fifth Breakthrough. An occasional sound of a passing car engine breaks the silence as The Mistress looks her Knight over. She tilts her head, her eyes trailing up and down The Blackguard before she returns her attention to the camera.
The Mistress: I suppose many of VoW's fans will take offense to my Knight's actions tonight. Fueled by the firestorm that Brett Carson stirred up with his actions recently, and his namedrop of Knight during his inflammatory speech, I suppose many of you sheep will assume that tonight's devastation was a similar act of hatred. And you all...
A smile plays across Lovecraft's face. She glances again at Knight, who finishes off the beer and tosses it into a nearby trashcan with a shrug.
The Mistress: ...could not be further from the truth. Obviously, both myself and Knight bear no ill will toward any practitioner of what you vanilla masses call "alternative lifestyles". I know more than my fair share about "deviant" acts. Tonight, however, what Scott did to Bobby Backdoor...that was an act of mercy.
Knight clears his throat and gestures with a nod of his head. Looking past the camera, Lovecraft raises a hand and waves.
The Mistress: And here comes our ride. They will, of course, wait until I finish my statement, so no need to rush. But back to the matter at hand...acts of mercy. Now, a moment ago I mentioned the knights of old. Every one of you has your mental image of the noble warrior in his shining suit of armor, sword and shield in hand. What many fail to realize is the brutal truth of medieval battles. Clad as they were in heavy layers of metal, it was extremely difficult to land a clean, decisive blow with the sword. Thus, another weapon, capable of sliding between armor plates and ribs alike was carried. Killing a man with one of these blades was considered...yes, I shall say it again...an act of mercy. Scott?
Lovecraft turns to look at Knight, who shrugs himself off of the wall. He reaches into his jacket's inner pocket and withdraws a long, tapering dagger. Flipping it so that the blade lands in his palm, he offers the hilt to The Mistress. She takes the weapon and holds it for the camera to see. She runs her fingers along the blade before tapping black fingernails on the point.
The Mistress: The misericorde...the name comes from the Latin "misericordia", or act of mercy. Easily capable of sliding through the visor of a helm and then the brain...or directly into the windpipe as a form of euthanasia. It was considered an act of mercy to a fallen foe. Rather than endure a long, painful death, a victim's demise could be mercifully expedited. What happened to Backdoor tonight, that was an end to his suffering.
Think about it...Bobby's mind has been troubled by Carson's words, perhaps even more than his body was wounded by Carson's actions. Rather than allow Bobby Backdoor to continue to languish and deteriorate, my Knight has mercifully removed him from the field of battle. But at Exposure, Jarek...
Lovecraft pauses and looks at the blade in her hand. She seems transfixed by the light playing along the edges as she turns it this way and that. The smile returns as she raises her gaze once more to the camera.
The Mistress: ...expect no such mercy. Tonight my Knight hospitalized a man simply for being in the same ring as him. At Exposure, Jarek, you enter that very ring as a target of my contempt and malice. Whether he chooses to think of you as the impudent bastard who dared lay a hand on me, or the pitiful slime whose disgusting presence cost him his only loss in VoW, know that Scott has nothing but hatred for you, Jarek. As do I. And that is only fuel to the fire that is my dear Sco...
Jeff: Hey, you guys ready?
The Mistress pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head as Jeff walks into the frame. Knight again shrugs off of the wall, but stops at Lovecraft's raised hand. Jeff looks from the pair to the camera and realization slowly sinks in. With a whispered "oops", he slinks backward until gone from view again. Knight plucks his gear bag from the ground beside him and tosses it off-camera. A brief scream follows a thud, bringing smiles to the faces of both Knight and Lovecraft. With a shake of her head, The Mistress returns to the camera again.
The Mistress: Goddamnit, Jeff...just get back in the car. We'll be along in a moment. Now, as I was saying...Scott, dear, what the hell was I saying?
Knight steps forward, taking the misericorde from his Mistress in the process. He slides it back into place within his jacket as he answers her query.
Knight: I believe, m'lady, you were about to expound upon the intentions I have toward Whitaker.
Lovecraft nods approvingly. Her hands now free, she reaches down to her belt and withdraws her Caress. Holding the grip with one hand, the other drags lazily along the lengths of chain.
The Mistress: Ah, yes, thank you. Jarek, your destruction at Exposure will not be like the swift, merciful strike laid upon Backdoor. Your suffering will be prolonged...drawn out...protracted...
She arcs an eyebrow.
The Mistress: Have I made my point yet? Next week, Jarek, you will suffer at the hands of my Knight. I hope that you can at least take your punishment like a man. But Scott will be the one dealing this punishment.
Lovecraft raises the flail into view. A wicked smile dances across her face as she winds a length of chain around one finger. After a glance to Knight, her attention returns to the camera.
The Mistress: This sweet caress of metallic judgement...shall punish those unworthy of earning my noble blessing. But in order to prove your worth, you must survive Exposure. And in the mood we both are in, Jarek, you will be jealous of Backdoor. You will beg for an act of mercy, but find only suffering. You will cry for a humane death, but know only torture. Save your breath, Jarek. If anything, you should pray. Pray, if you are so inclined, that you survive. Because I defy you to survive the night...or the Knight. Come, Scott.
As Lovecraft departs, following the sounds of Jeff wheezing, Knight falls into step behind her. He then pauses, turning to face the camera again.
Knight: There will be no act of mercy next week, Jarek. You will lay, broken, on the battlefield and bleed out like a wounded...
The Mistress: SCOTT!
Knight: Coming, m'lady.
Knight smiles to the camera as he steps out of view into the night.
