Post by Knight on May 25, 2014 6:50:13 GMT -6
We find ourselves within the Front of the Dungeon, the more "traditional" downstairs portion of one of New Orleans's most infamous establishments. Gargoyles leer from the corners, their dead eyes keeping watch over black-clad clientele as they talk, drink, and fail to pay attention to the televisions behind the bar. Here at the bar, we find a raven-haired vision dressed in a simple black dress...simple, that is to say, save the rows of razor-sharp spikes adorning the collar and sleeves. Noting the camera's approach, she smiles and sets a glass upon the bar. She stands, steps away from the bar, and addresses the camera.
Mistress Lovecraft: It has been said that behind every good man is a great woman. The Mistress Lilith Lovecraft would beg to differ...well, I would, if begging were not beneath me. But to your little turn of phrase, I say that a truly good man...knows to stand behind his great woman. But you, Jarek, I know that you know nothing of this. I have seen your type before. Millions of your knuckle-dragging Neanderthal "bros" descend like a plague upon my city each year for their sad little peacock rituals. Shall we set the scene?
Lovecraft glances across the room to the pool table, where Scott Knight is involved in a game of pool with a large biker type. He looks to the Mistress, who offers a slight smile and shake of her head. Knight takes the signal to return his attention to the game. Lovecraft returns her attention to the camera.
Mistress Lovecraft: Several years ago, before the internet made pornography more readily available than tap water for every hormonally charged adolescent in this pitiful country, there was a trend of sending camera crews here during Mardi Gras to entice weak-minded young sheep into exposing their breasts in exchange for gaudy t-shirts or such. As pathetic as the "tradition" of flashing for cheap plastic beads may be, it was only exacerbated by sad little men all too willing to pay to see "Girls Go Wild" It was around this time that I first acquired the services of my precious Knight.
She casts a longer gaze over her shoulder. On the opposite side of the "Front of the Dungeon", Scott is engrossed by his game. The Mistress breaks her gaze away from him and looks down at her own body.
Mistress Lovecraft: One particular "gentleman"...
Sarcasm drips, almost palpably, from The Mistress's mouth as she utters that particular word.
Mistress Lovecraft: ...made the mistake of propositioning me on Bourbon one night. Now, I am not an unreasonable woman by any means. If I were to pay heed to even a tenth of the lewd and disgusting suggestions drunken tourists have thrown my way, I'd have painted the streets red with blood. I ignore most unwelcome comments. This particular cameraman made two mistakes...
The Mistress glances again toward the pool table, where Knight is shaking the hand of the biker. The older bearded man offers a fist and Scott, after a moment of confusion and an apparent explanation from the blonde bearded man, awkwardly "bumps" it. Knight offers a slight smile and retrieves his beer before heading toward his Mistress. She nods approvingly as he approaches.
Mistress Lovecraft: Where was I? Ah, yes...Scott, I was telling the good people about the incident with that dreadful little man from Girls Gone Wild. Would you like to tell us what his two mistakes were?
Knight looks into the Mistress's eyes until she offers a slight nod. He then turns his attention to the camera.
Knight: As you wish, Mistress. Mistake number one...persistence. If the man had only had sense enough to accept the first denial and move along, he would not have needed worry about his second mistake.
Mistress Lovecraft: And just what, pray tell, was the second mistake, Scott?
Knight: He failed to realize that in spite of the Mardi Gras crowd, my Mistress was not alone. Far be it from me to leave m'lady unattended, especially during the Carnival season.
Mistress Lovecraft: Show us the hand, dear.
Knight smirks as he offers the back of his right hand for the camera to view. The Mistress's black fingernails trace several slight scars running across his knuckles.
Mistress Lovecraft: Seventeen bones were fractured or broken that night. Four of them in my dear Knight's hand. The rest were ribs and facial bones of the bastard "photographer" swine.
The camera backs away from the close shot of Knight's hand to reveal the couple finishing their drinks. After a quick nod to the bartender and several patrons, the Mistress inclines her head and Knight falls into step behind her. The camera follows them as they step out onto Toulouse and away from the chaos of the bar. The Mistress leans back against the brick exterior as Knight stands behind her.
Mistress Lovecraft: Now, Jarek, my Visionary...I offered this tale as one of precaution. If Scott were to treat a stranger in such a manner, in the very streets we now walk, how do you suppose he will act if you disrespect me before entering that ring? He already destroys men without provocation. I have seen the way you carry yourself...and I have seen the pathetic treatment you offer your sycophantic flock of harlots. I heard your comments toward Rayne Draven-Omega...then I saw what she did to you at Breakthrough. I have no delusions that you might have gained the sense not to objectify me in the past week as well. And I understand...I sincerely do. For I recognize that any person...
Lovecraft reaches up to drag her nails down the front of Knight's chest.
Mistress Lovecraft: ...to another, they can be just an object. My dear Blackguard here, he is the instrument of agony and retribution I unleash upon those who I would see suffer. He is an asset. He is a weapon. But you, Jarek, are simply...a tool. And when I have no use for a tool...
Her voice trails off as she looks across the street. Something seems to hold her attention briefly, but when the camera turns, it finds only the throng of people typical of a Saturday night in the French Quarter. The Mistress clears her throat and the camera returns to her.
Mistress Lovecraft: When a tool is of no use, it can be repurposed...reforged into something of value. But in order to do that, it must first be shattered, pounded and broken before it can be hammered into a shape with purpose. At Breakthrough, my sword, my weapon, my Knight...will break the pathetic little tool. And just like Bruce before you, Jarek, you will kneel at the feet of The Mistress!
Mistress Lovecraft: It has been said that behind every good man is a great woman. The Mistress Lilith Lovecraft would beg to differ...well, I would, if begging were not beneath me. But to your little turn of phrase, I say that a truly good man...knows to stand behind his great woman. But you, Jarek, I know that you know nothing of this. I have seen your type before. Millions of your knuckle-dragging Neanderthal "bros" descend like a plague upon my city each year for their sad little peacock rituals. Shall we set the scene?
Lovecraft glances across the room to the pool table, where Scott Knight is involved in a game of pool with a large biker type. He looks to the Mistress, who offers a slight smile and shake of her head. Knight takes the signal to return his attention to the game. Lovecraft returns her attention to the camera.
Mistress Lovecraft: Several years ago, before the internet made pornography more readily available than tap water for every hormonally charged adolescent in this pitiful country, there was a trend of sending camera crews here during Mardi Gras to entice weak-minded young sheep into exposing their breasts in exchange for gaudy t-shirts or such. As pathetic as the "tradition" of flashing for cheap plastic beads may be, it was only exacerbated by sad little men all too willing to pay to see "Girls Go Wild" It was around this time that I first acquired the services of my precious Knight.
She casts a longer gaze over her shoulder. On the opposite side of the "Front of the Dungeon", Scott is engrossed by his game. The Mistress breaks her gaze away from him and looks down at her own body.
Mistress Lovecraft: One particular "gentleman"...
Sarcasm drips, almost palpably, from The Mistress's mouth as she utters that particular word.
Mistress Lovecraft: ...made the mistake of propositioning me on Bourbon one night. Now, I am not an unreasonable woman by any means. If I were to pay heed to even a tenth of the lewd and disgusting suggestions drunken tourists have thrown my way, I'd have painted the streets red with blood. I ignore most unwelcome comments. This particular cameraman made two mistakes...
The Mistress glances again toward the pool table, where Knight is shaking the hand of the biker. The older bearded man offers a fist and Scott, after a moment of confusion and an apparent explanation from the blonde bearded man, awkwardly "bumps" it. Knight offers a slight smile and retrieves his beer before heading toward his Mistress. She nods approvingly as he approaches.
Mistress Lovecraft: Where was I? Ah, yes...Scott, I was telling the good people about the incident with that dreadful little man from Girls Gone Wild. Would you like to tell us what his two mistakes were?
Knight looks into the Mistress's eyes until she offers a slight nod. He then turns his attention to the camera.
Knight: As you wish, Mistress. Mistake number one...persistence. If the man had only had sense enough to accept the first denial and move along, he would not have needed worry about his second mistake.
Mistress Lovecraft: And just what, pray tell, was the second mistake, Scott?
Knight: He failed to realize that in spite of the Mardi Gras crowd, my Mistress was not alone. Far be it from me to leave m'lady unattended, especially during the Carnival season.
Mistress Lovecraft: Show us the hand, dear.
Knight smirks as he offers the back of his right hand for the camera to view. The Mistress's black fingernails trace several slight scars running across his knuckles.
Mistress Lovecraft: Seventeen bones were fractured or broken that night. Four of them in my dear Knight's hand. The rest were ribs and facial bones of the bastard "photographer" swine.
The camera backs away from the close shot of Knight's hand to reveal the couple finishing their drinks. After a quick nod to the bartender and several patrons, the Mistress inclines her head and Knight falls into step behind her. The camera follows them as they step out onto Toulouse and away from the chaos of the bar. The Mistress leans back against the brick exterior as Knight stands behind her.
Mistress Lovecraft: Now, Jarek, my Visionary...I offered this tale as one of precaution. If Scott were to treat a stranger in such a manner, in the very streets we now walk, how do you suppose he will act if you disrespect me before entering that ring? He already destroys men without provocation. I have seen the way you carry yourself...and I have seen the pathetic treatment you offer your sycophantic flock of harlots. I heard your comments toward Rayne Draven-Omega...then I saw what she did to you at Breakthrough. I have no delusions that you might have gained the sense not to objectify me in the past week as well. And I understand...I sincerely do. For I recognize that any person...
Lovecraft reaches up to drag her nails down the front of Knight's chest.
Mistress Lovecraft: ...to another, they can be just an object. My dear Blackguard here, he is the instrument of agony and retribution I unleash upon those who I would see suffer. He is an asset. He is a weapon. But you, Jarek, are simply...a tool. And when I have no use for a tool...
Her voice trails off as she looks across the street. Something seems to hold her attention briefly, but when the camera turns, it finds only the throng of people typical of a Saturday night in the French Quarter. The Mistress clears her throat and the camera returns to her.
Mistress Lovecraft: When a tool is of no use, it can be repurposed...reforged into something of value. But in order to do that, it must first be shattered, pounded and broken before it can be hammered into a shape with purpose. At Breakthrough, my sword, my weapon, my Knight...will break the pathetic little tool. And just like Bruce before you, Jarek, you will kneel at the feet of The Mistress!
