Post by Lord Hastings on Aug 11, 2009 21:27:20 GMT -5
Calypso: Are you sure about this?
Hastings: Don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out. I’ve planned for every eventuality.
Calypso: Have you?
Hastings: It will be worth it when it all comes together. Besides, if anybody can appreciate when a manipulative plan comes to fruition, you can.
Calypso gives him a puzzled look.
Calypso: What does that mean?
KNOCK KNOCK!
Voice: Come in, dears!
Donovan and Calypso enter the office of Old Lady Levene.
OLL: Oh! You’re that lovely Donovan. Thank you so much for the flowers, I simply love them.
Donovan nods his head.
Hastings: Mum.
Calypso glances at him.
Calypso: Mum?
Hastings: You have to speak British to her.
OLL: And you must be Calypso, oh I’ve heard so much about you lass. But I must say, your dress is somewhat unbecoming of a young lady.
Calypso blinks twice, and tugs the top of her shirt over her cleavage.
OLL: I’m not quite sure, Donovan, that she may be the best for you, is she? After all, you are such a nice man yourself.
Calypso: He’s a nice man?
OLL: Of course! Such a nice dresser, I can’t imagine him ever speaking ill of anyone, plus these are such nice flowers.
Calypso: I’ve been gone longer than I thought.
OLL: Now, I don’t like your tone.
Hastings: If yeh will excuse my interruption, I hae a gift for yeh.
The two women stare at him. Donovan hands Old Lady Levene a box.
OLL: Oh, look at that, it’s a box of chocolates!
Hastings: Dark chocolates, of course. They are healthier for thou.
Calypso: Thou?
OLL: How thoughtful you are! Now, what can I do for you?
Hastings: I need a favour. There is a person that I think you need to concern yourself with.
OLL: And who might that be?
Hastings: William Everknight.
OLL: But he seems like such a nice boy?
Hastings: He’s of a bad sort. If you go back a couple weeks, he struck not only a referee with a chair, but it was a woman, no less! I mean, you ask me, he deserves a suspension of some kind.
OLL: Now here, you are a fine young man, but I can’t have you telling me how to do my job.
Hastings: Sod all of the sort, mum. Just looking out for the best of GIW, you know. People like that, they don’t represent our image well, you know?
OLL: I do see your point, but he is the GIW.com champion.
Hastings: All the more reason to be concerned, we can’t have a champion doing such things. But there is no worry…problems like these have…solutions.
OLL: They do?
Calypso: They do?
Hastings: Of course! Now, you have to be worried about this Boolz chap, too.
OLL: I do? Why is that?
Hastings: Because we’re protecting the youth of the global market, obvious. Think about it. He relies on a questionable beverage, a Red Bull, for his energy and drive.
OLL: So?
Hastings: So it’s a gateway drug, clearly. Kids these days, today it’s Red Bull, tomorrow it’s Red Bull and vodka, the next thing you know they’re snorting lines of coke off a broken mirror from the family bathroom of the GIW arena. And you can’t have that.
OLL: Oh, we certainly can’t.
Hastings: And then there is these other three, from the Convenant.
OLL: There are a lot of them, which three do you mean?
Hastings: Well, they’re all of a bad sort, to be certain, but I was thinking specifically of Dirge, Raenius, and Chassie Fear. Come time for the Battleground Match, how can we be assured they won’t be colluding in that match? That simply wouldn’t be right in the spirit of fair competition, would it?
OLL: That’s a fair point.
Hastings: I think the best thing to do would be to arrange for a person of strong moral fiber to be the final entrant into the Battleground match, to assure that any such rubbish be dealt with in a swift and efficient manner.
OLL: What a fine young man you are! I’m thankful I have you here to point these things out to me.
Hastings: (under his breath) You should be, you old bag.
OLL: What’s that?
Hastings: I said I hope I’m not being a nag. You know, bothering you with all this.
OLL: Don’t you worry yourself with it, dear, after all, we need more strapping young lads like yourself around here.
Calypso: Nice save.
Hastings: Learned it from a friend. Now, about this week. It’s my understand that I’m meant to tag with one member of the Convenant, against Boolz, and another member of the Convenant?
OLL: You do realize which is on your side, and which is against you?
Hastings: I can’t tell them all apart. I thought perhaps you had an underling that made a mistake.
OLL: A mistake?
Hastings: Not YOU. One of your lackies.
OLL: And what mistake might that be, dear?
Hastings: Wouldn’t it make more sense to team me with Boolz?
OLL: You were just telling me what a miscreant you find him to be, and now you want to team with him?
Hastings: Well, I can keep an eye on him if that’s the case. Besides, we know what to expect from him, and you can trust that. You need to be around people you can trust.
OLL: Speaking of which, what was that nonsense with the powder I saw during your match last week?
Calypso: Oh, the powder, um…
Hastings: We’re back on broadcast television, and that was the main event of the evening. You have to make sure you look good for the cameras. Cal was just trying to get some last minute make-up on some people. It’s all for ratings, you know.
OLL: Oh really?
Calypso: Absolutely.
OLL: Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about, dears.
Hastings: And we won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you.
OLL: Oh, of course. Such a nice boy.
Donovan and Calypso step outside the office, and he pulls the door closed behind them.
Calypso: So you speak “British” now?
Hastings: Sure! I knobbed a ratted wazzock from the boozer.
Calypso: What does that mean?
Donovan shrugs.
Hastings: Fuck if I know.
Last month…
Outside the arena after Toxic Intent…
Hastings: Ok.
He stands still, his eyes closed. Calypso slowly gets up and cautiously approaches him. She stops a few feet away. Donovan turns and looks at her, and he lowers his head slightly and closes his eyes. Donovan nods his head, and Calypso rushes to him and wraps her arms around him, tears flowing down her cheek. After a moment, he puts his arms around her back.
Calypso: Donovan…
Hastings: I know, Cal. I know.
He holds her tight.
Hastings: Listen. Give this…give it a couple days. I’ve got to take this all in. Then…call me. Or stop by the apartment.
Calypso: Same place?
Hastings: Yeah, I haven’t moved. We’ll work this out, okay?
Calypso: Okay.
Hastings: Alright. I’m going to go…but I’ll talk to you soon.
They embrace again, a lingering hug, and Donovan steps backs. He walks away, glancing back over his shoulder with a half-smile as he disappears behind a row of cars. Calypso watches him with a weak smile, and she sits back down on the steps. She wipes the tear from her face and stares at the ground for a minute. She looks in the direction that Donovan disappeared, and then takes out her cell phone. She dials a number and waits for a few moments with the phone to her ear.
Calypso: He bought it.
Calypso hangs up the phone and puts it away, and then stares at the night sky, expressionless.
Behind her in the shadows of the arena, a dark figure watches. The light from a lamppost catches the corner of his belt, and the replica title glistens in the dark night.
Hastings: Don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out. I’ve planned for every eventuality.
Calypso: Have you?
Hastings: It will be worth it when it all comes together. Besides, if anybody can appreciate when a manipulative plan comes to fruition, you can.
Calypso gives him a puzzled look.
Calypso: What does that mean?
KNOCK KNOCK!
Voice: Come in, dears!
Donovan and Calypso enter the office of Old Lady Levene.
OLL: Oh! You’re that lovely Donovan. Thank you so much for the flowers, I simply love them.
Donovan nods his head.
Hastings: Mum.
Calypso glances at him.
Calypso: Mum?
Hastings: You have to speak British to her.
OLL: And you must be Calypso, oh I’ve heard so much about you lass. But I must say, your dress is somewhat unbecoming of a young lady.
Calypso blinks twice, and tugs the top of her shirt over her cleavage.
OLL: I’m not quite sure, Donovan, that she may be the best for you, is she? After all, you are such a nice man yourself.
Calypso: He’s a nice man?
OLL: Of course! Such a nice dresser, I can’t imagine him ever speaking ill of anyone, plus these are such nice flowers.
Calypso: I’ve been gone longer than I thought.
OLL: Now, I don’t like your tone.
Hastings: If yeh will excuse my interruption, I hae a gift for yeh.
The two women stare at him. Donovan hands Old Lady Levene a box.
OLL: Oh, look at that, it’s a box of chocolates!
Hastings: Dark chocolates, of course. They are healthier for thou.
Calypso: Thou?
OLL: How thoughtful you are! Now, what can I do for you?
Hastings: I need a favour. There is a person that I think you need to concern yourself with.
OLL: And who might that be?
Hastings: William Everknight.
OLL: But he seems like such a nice boy?
Hastings: He’s of a bad sort. If you go back a couple weeks, he struck not only a referee with a chair, but it was a woman, no less! I mean, you ask me, he deserves a suspension of some kind.
OLL: Now here, you are a fine young man, but I can’t have you telling me how to do my job.
Hastings: Sod all of the sort, mum. Just looking out for the best of GIW, you know. People like that, they don’t represent our image well, you know?
OLL: I do see your point, but he is the GIW.com champion.
Hastings: All the more reason to be concerned, we can’t have a champion doing such things. But there is no worry…problems like these have…solutions.
OLL: They do?
Calypso: They do?
Hastings: Of course! Now, you have to be worried about this Boolz chap, too.
OLL: I do? Why is that?
Hastings: Because we’re protecting the youth of the global market, obvious. Think about it. He relies on a questionable beverage, a Red Bull, for his energy and drive.
OLL: So?
Hastings: So it’s a gateway drug, clearly. Kids these days, today it’s Red Bull, tomorrow it’s Red Bull and vodka, the next thing you know they’re snorting lines of coke off a broken mirror from the family bathroom of the GIW arena. And you can’t have that.
OLL: Oh, we certainly can’t.
Hastings: And then there is these other three, from the Convenant.
OLL: There are a lot of them, which three do you mean?
Hastings: Well, they’re all of a bad sort, to be certain, but I was thinking specifically of Dirge, Raenius, and Chassie Fear. Come time for the Battleground Match, how can we be assured they won’t be colluding in that match? That simply wouldn’t be right in the spirit of fair competition, would it?
OLL: That’s a fair point.
Hastings: I think the best thing to do would be to arrange for a person of strong moral fiber to be the final entrant into the Battleground match, to assure that any such rubbish be dealt with in a swift and efficient manner.
OLL: What a fine young man you are! I’m thankful I have you here to point these things out to me.
Hastings: (under his breath) You should be, you old bag.
OLL: What’s that?
Hastings: I said I hope I’m not being a nag. You know, bothering you with all this.
OLL: Don’t you worry yourself with it, dear, after all, we need more strapping young lads like yourself around here.
Calypso: Nice save.
Hastings: Learned it from a friend. Now, about this week. It’s my understand that I’m meant to tag with one member of the Convenant, against Boolz, and another member of the Convenant?
OLL: You do realize which is on your side, and which is against you?
Hastings: I can’t tell them all apart. I thought perhaps you had an underling that made a mistake.
OLL: A mistake?
Hastings: Not YOU. One of your lackies.
OLL: And what mistake might that be, dear?
Hastings: Wouldn’t it make more sense to team me with Boolz?
OLL: You were just telling me what a miscreant you find him to be, and now you want to team with him?
Hastings: Well, I can keep an eye on him if that’s the case. Besides, we know what to expect from him, and you can trust that. You need to be around people you can trust.
OLL: Speaking of which, what was that nonsense with the powder I saw during your match last week?
Calypso: Oh, the powder, um…
Hastings: We’re back on broadcast television, and that was the main event of the evening. You have to make sure you look good for the cameras. Cal was just trying to get some last minute make-up on some people. It’s all for ratings, you know.
OLL: Oh really?
Calypso: Absolutely.
OLL: Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about, dears.
Hastings: And we won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you.
OLL: Oh, of course. Such a nice boy.
Donovan and Calypso step outside the office, and he pulls the door closed behind them.
Calypso: So you speak “British” now?
Hastings: Sure! I knobbed a ratted wazzock from the boozer.
Calypso: What does that mean?
Donovan shrugs.
Hastings: Fuck if I know.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Last month…
Outside the arena after Toxic Intent…
Hastings: Ok.
He stands still, his eyes closed. Calypso slowly gets up and cautiously approaches him. She stops a few feet away. Donovan turns and looks at her, and he lowers his head slightly and closes his eyes. Donovan nods his head, and Calypso rushes to him and wraps her arms around him, tears flowing down her cheek. After a moment, he puts his arms around her back.
Calypso: Donovan…
Hastings: I know, Cal. I know.
He holds her tight.
Hastings: Listen. Give this…give it a couple days. I’ve got to take this all in. Then…call me. Or stop by the apartment.
Calypso: Same place?
Hastings: Yeah, I haven’t moved. We’ll work this out, okay?
Calypso: Okay.
Hastings: Alright. I’m going to go…but I’ll talk to you soon.
They embrace again, a lingering hug, and Donovan steps backs. He walks away, glancing back over his shoulder with a half-smile as he disappears behind a row of cars. Calypso watches him with a weak smile, and she sits back down on the steps. She wipes the tear from her face and stares at the ground for a minute. She looks in the direction that Donovan disappeared, and then takes out her cell phone. She dials a number and waits for a few moments with the phone to her ear.
Calypso: He bought it.
Calypso hangs up the phone and puts it away, and then stares at the night sky, expressionless.
Behind her in the shadows of the arena, a dark figure watches. The light from a lamppost catches the corner of his belt, and the replica title glistens in the dark night.
x2
