A Meeting of the Minds - Post-Chaos 97
Sept 4, 2020 15:35:22 GMT -5
Admin, The Madness Menagerie, and 1 more like this
Post by The Inspector on Sept 4, 2020 15:35:22 GMT -5
Our scene opens inside the office of one Christopher St James, our vantage point giving it an air of voyeurism as we take in the scene seemingly unseen from one corner of the room, via one of the many handheld cameras used to capture the backstage goings on at a Carnage Wrestling show. The pitch black sky visible through the small gap in the blinds covering the largest window in the office and the almost oppressive silence filling the room via said open window suggested it was late; very late. Nevertheless, the bombastic owner of Carnage Wrestling certainly didn’t appear to be winding down for the night; quite the opposite, in fact – he was entertaining, and it looked to be all business.
A single man sat across the desk from C$J, his features thrown into sharp relief against the slightly harsh, artificial light filling the room. He sat bolt upright, tall and rigid, glancing around at his surroundings with a cold indifference. His short-cropped dark hair had been slicked down in a simple, no-frills manner, whilst grey-framed spectacles were perched somewhat precariously on the end of his nose, through which dark eyes pierced, seemingly slightly yet permanently narrowed in a stare of suspicion.
The look, completed by an archaic grey pinstripe suit atop immaculately ironed white shirt, gave off a clear impression of authority; but also, unmistakeably, one of utter tedium.
Despite whatever high standing this stranger may have held, he showed no irritation or impatience in the face of his host, who had hitherto failed to even acknowledge his existence, choosing instead to completely devote his attention to his smartphone, onto which C$J was furiously tapping, brow furrowed.
Finally, with a final tap, a sigh and the clunk of phone hitting desk, C$J faced his visitor for the first time.
C$J: Apologies for the lateness of our meeting, Mr. Summers. Today has been...
Another sigh.
C$J: ... somewhat eventful, to say the very least.
St. James flashed a knowing smile across the desk. His tone was all too familiar to the Legion, and all within Carnage Wrestling – suave, sophisticated, yet typically insincere.
The newly-introduced Mr Summers seemed completely unmoved, however, merely responding with a curt nod.
C$J: Mr. Summers, let me be frank with you. I like to run my business ventures like any other impassioned person likes to chase after their dreams. Tonight, Chaos was just that. Chaos. We had men that any sane person would’ve presumed retired come back to try and destroy MY champion. We have demonic… Whatevers coming in and swinging cast iron skillets at other roster members and putting them out of action. We have young upstarts threatening the status quo, and we have people that have fallen under the radar that should be at the top of the roster.
A rather wooden smile this time, but still C$J’s guest remained impassive. Perhaps sensing that he was starting to ‘lose the room’, the Carnage owner transformed almost immediately into full on business-mode, clasping his hands solemnly on the desk in front of him, his voice settling into a more understated, serious tone.
C$J: You’ll have been fully briefed on the scale of your assignment here, of course...?
Another single nod, but nothing more, was the response.
A flicker of something somewhere in between irritation, concern and even alarm passed across the owner’s face. Just as quickly as he’d changed tack, he changed back again, arranging his features into another winning smile, his tone light and jovial once more.
C$J: Besides, even if you hadn’t, just watching some of those reprobates and their reprehensible actions tonight should’ve made it plain and obvious just how much I’ve taken on here, and just how much of an uphill struggle that I... sorry... that we are facing in turning this place around! I mean, I’ll give them one thing, they’re certainly living up to their billing. Chaos and Carnage pretty much sums this mess up, am I r-
Mr Summers held up his right hand, stopping C$J dead in his tracks.
Summers: Let me assure you, Christopher, I am in no doubt of the scale of the assignment, and am fully committed to the task at hand.
When the man opposite St. James finally spoke, pure Queen’s English graced the air, spoken in a predictably pretentious baritone.
C$J, momentarily and visibly caught off guard by the interruption, was nonetheless clearly relieved to finally get a worthwhile response from his client, and now settled into much more relaxed and comfortable body language.
C$J: That’s good to know. And I, too, know that we will get this done. We will turn this around. And I will haul this stinking federation out of the gutter, and transform it into a being worthy of bearing the name Christopher Saint James!
He looked somewhat triumphantly across the desk at Mr Summers, but simply received yet another stiff nod in response, the bespectacled man’s face still as impassive as ever.
Undeterred, the Carnage owner pressed on.
C$J: So... having seen the lay of the land, I’m interested to know – what did you have in mind for the first stage of your... ahem... ‘inspection’? Pray tell, just how are you going to make your first mark on this place, and show that you and I are a force not to be trifled with?
JC is, of course, our first suggestion as somebody that should be made an example of. He’s the guy that likes to threaten to kick people in the head and then do it anyway when they try and offer him exactly what he wants. Amber Ryan, of course, is a person that might be seen as the bane of my existence. Now that she doesn’t have the title, it’s entirely possible she’ll come to try and oust me from power. She must be stopped, at all costs. Trent Steel just… well, frankly, he smells. And to be honest, I’d like nothing more than to watch you smash that shitty facepaint from one side of his hideous face to the other.
The merest hint of a smile danced across Mr Summers’ face, before disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.
Summers: All worthy suggestions, no doubt, and certainly very effective... very grand ways of making an initial impact. But as you will soon come to understand, Christopher, I have my own rather more conventional, more logical approach that I like to take in cases like these.
Summers sat forward rather suddenly in his chair, causing sharply raised eyebrows on the part of his host, as he looked down at a thus far unseen clipboard which had been lying flat on the desk. A single sheet of paper appeared to be affixed to the clipboard, and it was this that Summers now stared, almost transfixed, as if he was suddenly completely unaware of anything or anyone else in the room.
Summers: I rather think...
He spoke softly, thoughtfully, the tip of his right index finger pressing against the top of what it now became clear was a list of names.
Summers: ... that in a case such as this...
Slowly, delicately, his finger traced down the sheet, his gaze unwavering.
Summers: ... with such a vast array of challenges to overcome...
His finger continues to move inexorably down, until finally coming to rest on a name almost right at the bottom of the list.
Summers: ... it would be pertinent to start from the bottom, and work our way up... wouldn’t you agree, Christopher?
Slowly, carefully, it is obvious that the cameraman has crept slowly across the room, now peering over the shoulder of the smug Mr. Summers to reveal the exact target of this so-called first ‘inspection’:
ADRIENNE LEVI
??: OI!
A scuffle, the sounds of pounding footsteps, and suddenly the camera is obscured by a gigantic, ham-sized hand.
Summers: Ahh... it seems my assumption that this was a private meeting was entirely false, Christopher.
Behind the still-obscured camera, C$J was stumbling emphatically over his words, managing nothing more than a couple of strained, garbled noises even as the cameraman and his equipment were being bundled out of the room.
Fittingly, the enigmatic Mr. Summers had the last word, before the door of Christopher St. James’ office was slammed shut with ominous finality:
Summers: You’ll forgive my partner for his direct approach, Christopher. However, you’ll soon come to appreciate the level of force we choose to employ is entirely appropriate...
A single man sat across the desk from C$J, his features thrown into sharp relief against the slightly harsh, artificial light filling the room. He sat bolt upright, tall and rigid, glancing around at his surroundings with a cold indifference. His short-cropped dark hair had been slicked down in a simple, no-frills manner, whilst grey-framed spectacles were perched somewhat precariously on the end of his nose, through which dark eyes pierced, seemingly slightly yet permanently narrowed in a stare of suspicion.
The look, completed by an archaic grey pinstripe suit atop immaculately ironed white shirt, gave off a clear impression of authority; but also, unmistakeably, one of utter tedium.
Despite whatever high standing this stranger may have held, he showed no irritation or impatience in the face of his host, who had hitherto failed to even acknowledge his existence, choosing instead to completely devote his attention to his smartphone, onto which C$J was furiously tapping, brow furrowed.
Finally, with a final tap, a sigh and the clunk of phone hitting desk, C$J faced his visitor for the first time.
C$J: Apologies for the lateness of our meeting, Mr. Summers. Today has been...
Another sigh.
C$J: ... somewhat eventful, to say the very least.
St. James flashed a knowing smile across the desk. His tone was all too familiar to the Legion, and all within Carnage Wrestling – suave, sophisticated, yet typically insincere.
The newly-introduced Mr Summers seemed completely unmoved, however, merely responding with a curt nod.
C$J: Mr. Summers, let me be frank with you. I like to run my business ventures like any other impassioned person likes to chase after their dreams. Tonight, Chaos was just that. Chaos. We had men that any sane person would’ve presumed retired come back to try and destroy MY champion. We have demonic… Whatevers coming in and swinging cast iron skillets at other roster members and putting them out of action. We have young upstarts threatening the status quo, and we have people that have fallen under the radar that should be at the top of the roster.
A rather wooden smile this time, but still C$J’s guest remained impassive. Perhaps sensing that he was starting to ‘lose the room’, the Carnage owner transformed almost immediately into full on business-mode, clasping his hands solemnly on the desk in front of him, his voice settling into a more understated, serious tone.
C$J: You’ll have been fully briefed on the scale of your assignment here, of course...?
Another single nod, but nothing more, was the response.
A flicker of something somewhere in between irritation, concern and even alarm passed across the owner’s face. Just as quickly as he’d changed tack, he changed back again, arranging his features into another winning smile, his tone light and jovial once more.
C$J: Besides, even if you hadn’t, just watching some of those reprobates and their reprehensible actions tonight should’ve made it plain and obvious just how much I’ve taken on here, and just how much of an uphill struggle that I... sorry... that we are facing in turning this place around! I mean, I’ll give them one thing, they’re certainly living up to their billing. Chaos and Carnage pretty much sums this mess up, am I r-
Mr Summers held up his right hand, stopping C$J dead in his tracks.
Summers: Let me assure you, Christopher, I am in no doubt of the scale of the assignment, and am fully committed to the task at hand.
When the man opposite St. James finally spoke, pure Queen’s English graced the air, spoken in a predictably pretentious baritone.
C$J, momentarily and visibly caught off guard by the interruption, was nonetheless clearly relieved to finally get a worthwhile response from his client, and now settled into much more relaxed and comfortable body language.
C$J: That’s good to know. And I, too, know that we will get this done. We will turn this around. And I will haul this stinking federation out of the gutter, and transform it into a being worthy of bearing the name Christopher Saint James!
He looked somewhat triumphantly across the desk at Mr Summers, but simply received yet another stiff nod in response, the bespectacled man’s face still as impassive as ever.
Undeterred, the Carnage owner pressed on.
C$J: So... having seen the lay of the land, I’m interested to know – what did you have in mind for the first stage of your... ahem... ‘inspection’? Pray tell, just how are you going to make your first mark on this place, and show that you and I are a force not to be trifled with?
JC is, of course, our first suggestion as somebody that should be made an example of. He’s the guy that likes to threaten to kick people in the head and then do it anyway when they try and offer him exactly what he wants. Amber Ryan, of course, is a person that might be seen as the bane of my existence. Now that she doesn’t have the title, it’s entirely possible she’ll come to try and oust me from power. She must be stopped, at all costs. Trent Steel just… well, frankly, he smells. And to be honest, I’d like nothing more than to watch you smash that shitty facepaint from one side of his hideous face to the other.
The merest hint of a smile danced across Mr Summers’ face, before disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.
Summers: All worthy suggestions, no doubt, and certainly very effective... very grand ways of making an initial impact. But as you will soon come to understand, Christopher, I have my own rather more conventional, more logical approach that I like to take in cases like these.
Summers sat forward rather suddenly in his chair, causing sharply raised eyebrows on the part of his host, as he looked down at a thus far unseen clipboard which had been lying flat on the desk. A single sheet of paper appeared to be affixed to the clipboard, and it was this that Summers now stared, almost transfixed, as if he was suddenly completely unaware of anything or anyone else in the room.
Summers: I rather think...
He spoke softly, thoughtfully, the tip of his right index finger pressing against the top of what it now became clear was a list of names.
Summers: ... that in a case such as this...
Slowly, delicately, his finger traced down the sheet, his gaze unwavering.
Summers: ... with such a vast array of challenges to overcome...
His finger continues to move inexorably down, until finally coming to rest on a name almost right at the bottom of the list.
Summers: ... it would be pertinent to start from the bottom, and work our way up... wouldn’t you agree, Christopher?
Slowly, carefully, it is obvious that the cameraman has crept slowly across the room, now peering over the shoulder of the smug Mr. Summers to reveal the exact target of this so-called first ‘inspection’:
ADRIENNE LEVI
??: OI!
A scuffle, the sounds of pounding footsteps, and suddenly the camera is obscured by a gigantic, ham-sized hand.
Summers: Ahh... it seems my assumption that this was a private meeting was entirely false, Christopher.
Behind the still-obscured camera, C$J was stumbling emphatically over his words, managing nothing more than a couple of strained, garbled noises even as the cameraman and his equipment were being bundled out of the room.
Fittingly, the enigmatic Mr. Summers had the last word, before the door of Christopher St. James’ office was slammed shut with ominous finality:
Summers: You’ll forgive my partner for his direct approach, Christopher. However, you’ll soon come to appreciate the level of force we choose to employ is entirely appropriate...