Post by Knight on Aug 13, 2014 9:39:22 GMT -6
I get the distinct impression that the big guy is NOT in a good mood. Coming from me, that's saying a lot. People have accused me of having anger management issues before. Usually, that's actually served me pretty well, given my past as an in-ring competitor. But those days are behind me, in no small part thanks to that supposed temper. Oh, sure, everyone loves it when you're doing your little flippy shit off the ropes and giving the people a show. But you try to break ONE neck, and everyone gets their panties in a bunch all of a sudden. Where was I...oh, right. Scott.
Scott Knight, the Blackguard, the Black Knight...seems like an okay enough guy. Not sure what the hell's going on between him and Lilith, but I try not to pry into anybody's personal business if I can avoid it. Then again, Vic is paying me to make Scott my business. Lil too, I suppose. She ain't been much fun to be around the last couple weeks. Ever since Stacy Jones put a foot upside her face, it's been all jaw wrap ice packs and evil glares. Okay, so only one of those is unusual for her. But when she's like this, all quiet and shit, her boy toy gets fricking moody. Dunno what's up his ass...maybe she hasn't told him what to do enough the last week or two. But I will say this...I do not envy this Soloke guy. Scott's no pushover on any given day. But right now, that son of a bitch has some serious aggression built up inside him. Shit is going to blow soon. And there's going to be hell to pay.
Kross: X!
I snap from my thoughts and looks up to my employer. Victor Kross stands before me. Judging from the look on the billionaire's face, this is not the first time he has tried to get my attention. Kross cocks his head and arches an eyebrow.
Kross: You okay?
I shrug as I look around the study. Apparently I just zoned out...not much I can say to that.
Saint: I'm fine...must have drifted off a bit there. What's going on?
Kross: Not much. Scott decided he wanted to work out, so he and Cyrus are down in the Sanctum. Lilith...is being Lilith.
Hmm...do I really want to go there? Hell with it. It's Vic...what have I got to lose?
Saint: Vic, I gotta ask...what the hell is going on there? I mean, you know me...I'm not afraid of anything, but there is something about those two that scares the shit out of me.
Kross smiles as he studies my face for a moment. Eventually, he shakes his head and laughs.
Kross: X, I won't claim for a second to understand just what my cousin sees in that meatheaded sociopath, any more than I could claim to understand why he bows to her every whim. But I've made investments in him, and you can't deny he gets results.
Saint: I suppose so. But how is Lilith? Is she going to be ready for Breakthrough?
Kross: Actually, I'm not sure, but I don't think that's going to be an issue. We discussed it, and she agreed with my idea...we're going to see what happens when the leash comes off.
Saint: You mean he's going out there without her? I mean, I have no doubt Scott can handle himself, but what if he has one of his rage spells?
Kross: Then we get some good TV out of him. You saw the guy he's facing. Just imagine it, X. All that pent-up anger getting unleashed on some poor bastard who's about as big around as Scott's thigh. It's going to be a car crash.
I suppose this isn't the time to point out that size hasn't exactly been a factor in some of Scott's losses in the last month or two. I know Vic...when he gets like this, it's much easier to just let him roll. No point injecting truth or logic into the process.
Saint: I got to admit, I was just thinking...I don't envy that Maxwell guy. Looking across the ring at that big angry bastard is nobody's idea of a good time.
Kross nods, his eyes looking into nothing as though his mind is wandering elsewhere. He gets like this sometimes...no point trying to bring him back just yet. Wait, here he comes...
Kross: Mhmm...well...I know! Let's go down to the Sanctum, see how the big guys are doing.
For some reason, I always get nervous when Vic "has an idea", and this is no different.
**********
The Sanctum, Kross's personal gym, occupies much of the basement level of Kross Manor. To me, the place has an unnerving air about it. All the exercise equipment is state of the art, up to and including a small wrestling ring in the far corner. The assorted machines look somewhat jarring in the surroundings. I've often wondered if the look was intentional, or some remnant of the Manor's history. Seriously, looks like he hired Tyler Durden and Frankenstein's Igor as interior decorators down here.
We look to the weight bench, where the leviathan Cyrus is loading weights onto a bar. He pauses, looking quizzically at Knight, who is on the bench. Knight's knuckles are changing colors from the pressure he is exerting just maintaining his grip.
Cyrus: Are you sure about this?
Knight: Just lock it on already!
Cyrus shrugs slightly before fastening the weight onto the bar. He looks up to meet Kross's gaze and gives a slight shake of his head before moving into spotting position.
Cyrus: You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know it? I can barely lift this much.
With a snarl, Knight pushes forward. The bar rises from the support and slowly descends to meet his massive chest, then slowly rises once again. Cyrus reaches for the bar, but Knight allows it to drop again. Once again, he slowly powers the heavy weights into the air until he reaches full extension. This process repeats until he has lifted the bar ten times, at which point Knight allows Cyrus to guide the weight back to its resting place. Knight remains stretched out on the bench, his chest rising and falling from exertion. I lean over, whispering in Kross's ear.
Saint: Is it just me, or did it look like Cyrus was struggling with that bar?
Kross: I told you...Knight is quite the specimen. To that end...Scott!
Knight sits up from the bench and looks to the billionaire, apparently noting his presence for the first time. He grabs a towel and wipes his face before rising to stand.
Knight: What is it, Victor?
Kross smiles before motioning with his head toward me.
Kross: X-man here was wondering if you're ready for Breakthrough.
Knight looks briefly to Kross, then back to Cyrus, before finally settling on me. His eyes flash with anger as he speaks.
Knight: I am ready. Even without m'lady by my side, I shall walk into battle. I shall face this "Perfect Disaster" and break him down. Both of his nicknames will be rather fitting. The so-called "Suicide King" steps into the ring with a deathwish, it would seem. The plucky little fighter with the big heart steps forward to slay the dragon...but this is no fairy tale. There are no happy endings. And when I unleash my wrath upon the pathetic weakling, I will please my Mistress, and satisfy her lust for blood. To expect any less from me would be folly.
I don't know where the hell she found this guy, but I'm willing to bet they serve mead and giant roast turkey legs. I have no problem imagining Scott clad in armor and riding a horse. Probably knows a guy or two who thinks he can cast wizard spells on me.
Kross: Come, Scott...I'd like to talk to you about a few things.
I watch the two of them leave the Sanctum, then turn my attention to Cyrus. Now I'm no small guy, but Cyrus has always reminded me of one of those cartoons where a gorilla ends up in a suit. Bastard is huge. And right now, he's exhausted.
Saint: You okay, big guy?
Cyrus looks up, the expression on his face...not sure what to call it.
Cyrus: X, man, I'm gonna tell you something...that Scott guy scares the shit out of me.
Scott Knight, the Blackguard, the Black Knight...seems like an okay enough guy. Not sure what the hell's going on between him and Lilith, but I try not to pry into anybody's personal business if I can avoid it. Then again, Vic is paying me to make Scott my business. Lil too, I suppose. She ain't been much fun to be around the last couple weeks. Ever since Stacy Jones put a foot upside her face, it's been all jaw wrap ice packs and evil glares. Okay, so only one of those is unusual for her. But when she's like this, all quiet and shit, her boy toy gets fricking moody. Dunno what's up his ass...maybe she hasn't told him what to do enough the last week or two. But I will say this...I do not envy this Soloke guy. Scott's no pushover on any given day. But right now, that son of a bitch has some serious aggression built up inside him. Shit is going to blow soon. And there's going to be hell to pay.
Kross: X!
I snap from my thoughts and looks up to my employer. Victor Kross stands before me. Judging from the look on the billionaire's face, this is not the first time he has tried to get my attention. Kross cocks his head and arches an eyebrow.
Kross: You okay?
I shrug as I look around the study. Apparently I just zoned out...not much I can say to that.
Saint: I'm fine...must have drifted off a bit there. What's going on?
Kross: Not much. Scott decided he wanted to work out, so he and Cyrus are down in the Sanctum. Lilith...is being Lilith.
Hmm...do I really want to go there? Hell with it. It's Vic...what have I got to lose?
Saint: Vic, I gotta ask...what the hell is going on there? I mean, you know me...I'm not afraid of anything, but there is something about those two that scares the shit out of me.
Kross smiles as he studies my face for a moment. Eventually, he shakes his head and laughs.
Kross: X, I won't claim for a second to understand just what my cousin sees in that meatheaded sociopath, any more than I could claim to understand why he bows to her every whim. But I've made investments in him, and you can't deny he gets results.
Saint: I suppose so. But how is Lilith? Is she going to be ready for Breakthrough?
Kross: Actually, I'm not sure, but I don't think that's going to be an issue. We discussed it, and she agreed with my idea...we're going to see what happens when the leash comes off.
Saint: You mean he's going out there without her? I mean, I have no doubt Scott can handle himself, but what if he has one of his rage spells?
Kross: Then we get some good TV out of him. You saw the guy he's facing. Just imagine it, X. All that pent-up anger getting unleashed on some poor bastard who's about as big around as Scott's thigh. It's going to be a car crash.
I suppose this isn't the time to point out that size hasn't exactly been a factor in some of Scott's losses in the last month or two. I know Vic...when he gets like this, it's much easier to just let him roll. No point injecting truth or logic into the process.
Saint: I got to admit, I was just thinking...I don't envy that Maxwell guy. Looking across the ring at that big angry bastard is nobody's idea of a good time.
Kross nods, his eyes looking into nothing as though his mind is wandering elsewhere. He gets like this sometimes...no point trying to bring him back just yet. Wait, here he comes...
Kross: Mhmm...well...I know! Let's go down to the Sanctum, see how the big guys are doing.
For some reason, I always get nervous when Vic "has an idea", and this is no different.
**********
The Sanctum, Kross's personal gym, occupies much of the basement level of Kross Manor. To me, the place has an unnerving air about it. All the exercise equipment is state of the art, up to and including a small wrestling ring in the far corner. The assorted machines look somewhat jarring in the surroundings. I've often wondered if the look was intentional, or some remnant of the Manor's history. Seriously, looks like he hired Tyler Durden and Frankenstein's Igor as interior decorators down here.
We look to the weight bench, where the leviathan Cyrus is loading weights onto a bar. He pauses, looking quizzically at Knight, who is on the bench. Knight's knuckles are changing colors from the pressure he is exerting just maintaining his grip.
Cyrus: Are you sure about this?
Knight: Just lock it on already!
Cyrus shrugs slightly before fastening the weight onto the bar. He looks up to meet Kross's gaze and gives a slight shake of his head before moving into spotting position.
Cyrus: You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know it? I can barely lift this much.
With a snarl, Knight pushes forward. The bar rises from the support and slowly descends to meet his massive chest, then slowly rises once again. Cyrus reaches for the bar, but Knight allows it to drop again. Once again, he slowly powers the heavy weights into the air until he reaches full extension. This process repeats until he has lifted the bar ten times, at which point Knight allows Cyrus to guide the weight back to its resting place. Knight remains stretched out on the bench, his chest rising and falling from exertion. I lean over, whispering in Kross's ear.
Saint: Is it just me, or did it look like Cyrus was struggling with that bar?
Kross: I told you...Knight is quite the specimen. To that end...Scott!
Knight sits up from the bench and looks to the billionaire, apparently noting his presence for the first time. He grabs a towel and wipes his face before rising to stand.
Knight: What is it, Victor?
Kross smiles before motioning with his head toward me.
Kross: X-man here was wondering if you're ready for Breakthrough.
Knight looks briefly to Kross, then back to Cyrus, before finally settling on me. His eyes flash with anger as he speaks.
Knight: I am ready. Even without m'lady by my side, I shall walk into battle. I shall face this "Perfect Disaster" and break him down. Both of his nicknames will be rather fitting. The so-called "Suicide King" steps into the ring with a deathwish, it would seem. The plucky little fighter with the big heart steps forward to slay the dragon...but this is no fairy tale. There are no happy endings. And when I unleash my wrath upon the pathetic weakling, I will please my Mistress, and satisfy her lust for blood. To expect any less from me would be folly.
I don't know where the hell she found this guy, but I'm willing to bet they serve mead and giant roast turkey legs. I have no problem imagining Scott clad in armor and riding a horse. Probably knows a guy or two who thinks he can cast wizard spells on me.
Kross: Come, Scott...I'd like to talk to you about a few things.
I watch the two of them leave the Sanctum, then turn my attention to Cyrus. Now I'm no small guy, but Cyrus has always reminded me of one of those cartoons where a gorilla ends up in a suit. Bastard is huge. And right now, he's exhausted.
Saint: You okay, big guy?
Cyrus looks up, the expression on his face...not sure what to call it.
Cyrus: X, man, I'm gonna tell you something...that Scott guy scares the shit out of me.
