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+--- Thread: [Pre-Show] Contract Signings (/showthread.php?tid=1305)
[Pre-Show] Contract Signings - Karl Jak - 04-30-2015
The season was almost upon them.
All that remained was to ink a few additional contracts before they could start launching the Dataverse and local networking adverts.
And for that purpose, Karl had made sure to set up his office extra pretty to ensure that his more elite prospects felt comfortable as they signed their forms. As he adjusted his seat and neatened up the stack of papers, Karl heard a gentle series of knocks at his door before his intern popped her head through the open doorway.
“Your twelve o’clock is here, Mr. Jak,” the girl whispered. She was a nice worker, but she was terrible sheepish—to the point where he sometimes wanted to yell at her to be more extroverted. How could you hope to survive in this industry when you had problems looking a famous person in the face?
“Send her in, Carmen,” Karl replied as he found his nice pen and watched as the blonde woman with the robotic parts strode into his office.
“Is this really necessary?” The woman asked before taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “You already have my signatures for all those little videos in your library, Karl. Do I really need to sign more contracts?”
“These are different papers, Eighteen. They are just to confirm that you’ll be participating, so the company has free license to incorporate you into advertising packages. I mean, you’re a former Grand Champion, so you can imagine that we’d all love to be a little more visible with your presence. Plus there’s that whole plot where you were imprisoned by one of the desert’s many tyrants. Do you realize how great a story that is? A former champion reduced to slavery who makes another stab at grandeur? The people are going to eat that up and scream for seconds. I don’t know how long you’ve been removed from our home, but angst-riddled and emotionally conflicted heroines are all the blaze.”
Eighteen rolled her eyes. While she’d never liked Karl (being a multi-year entrant into Dante’s Abyss did that to anyone), the cyborg knew the man did his job well. Worse than that, she knew she owed him for pulling her out of Ganondorf’s dungeon. If she was lucky, the would-be king would be drawn to allure and grandeur of the competition. Nothing would make her happier than the chance to put a knife or any sort of sharp implement through the Gerudo’s dark heart.
The thought brought a rare thing to the beautiful yet mournful woman—a smile. “Where do I need to sign?” She asked as she leaned over and picked up the pen.
Re: [Pre-Show] Contract Signings - Karl Jak - 05-01-2015
“You know why you’re here right?” Karl asked as he set the papers in front of the woman. Unlike the rest of his nicely maintained office, the warrior who sat across from him was decked out in battle-scared armor that needed more TLC than any blacksmith could offer in a lifetime. While he face and hair were well-maintained, it was obvious from her hands nails that she didn’t waste much time on the finer things. Her hands were calloused from wielding heavy weapons, and she needed a manicure like Karl needed his mid-morning glass of bubbly.
“Because I’m a very good hunter,” the woman replied as she leaned forward and mulled over the documents in front of her. “You need someone with my level of experience to curtail some of your x-factors, don’t you? You have some sort of hit list?”
The producer threw his head back and chuckled. “Oh, of course not! I’ve only just started to speak with people who I myself haven’t willed into existence, so it’d be dramatic, even by my standards, for me to have any personal vendettas… I just really enjoyed the information I heard about you from my folks at the news’ network. Plus, I got a nice referral from an associate of mine who will remain nameless at this time.”
The armored hunter smirked as she tapped her finger on a line of text. “Says here that I risk losing anything I bring to the island unless I win…”
“Yes but when you win, you’ll be doubling your little cache of super weapons,” Karl cooed as the woman nodded her head. Once she finished signing the necessary forms, she slid the papers back over to his side of the table. After making sure everything was in order, the producer smiled and leaned toward her. “Now will you please tell me the story about how you helped kill the dragon and took off with the prize?”
Cindy snickered as she shifted her weight around in the plush chair. As she moved, she glanced down at the sack tied to her waist that housed the Golden Dragon Egg.
With you, I will be unstoppable.
Re: [Pre-Show] Contract Signings - Karl Jak - 05-13-2015
Had the festivities already started?
Karl found it hard to believe that things were already underway, but the presence of the media, VIP visitors, and would-be competitors convinced him that the ball had begun to roll. It’d been just a few hours, but already, there were a few dozen people who had registered for Dante’s Abyss. Of course, only the best would make the final cut to determine the cast for the island, but in the meantime, Karl would enjoy the spectacle.
But for now, he had some matters to attend to back in the private section of the facility. After a quick ride through a hidden elevator, he made his way through the wide hallway to the boardroom, where his personal assistant and some other staff members were waiting with the newest ‘in-sourced’ competitor.
On the other side of the door, Karl was amused to find that most of the people there seemed paralyzed in fear. He expected as much from his sheepish assistant, but to see the boys in fancy suits pale and sweaty was something new and entertaining. “What’s the matter?” Karl asked before they all pointed to something on the other end of the room. The producer looked over to see a hulking man in tattered black clothes and a brown jacket. The boots he wore were plain but old, and his hands were covered in dark gloves.
It wasn’t the size of the bald man that interested Karl, but the fact that he wore a yellowed hockey mask on a head that had the appearance of having been underwater for a few years too many. Something that looked like an axe wound marred the top right corner of the mask. Despite seeming like a madman off the street, the individual was shackled several times over.
“What’s with the chains?” Karl asked as he glanced over at the board.
“He killed fourteen people when we tried to recruit him in the field. I guess five of them were space marines…” a balding man in a pinstripe suit shot back as Karl walked over to the chained colossus.
“Coruscant, eh?” Karl glanced over his shoulder. “Has he signed the papers?”
“He doesn’t respond to normal conversation,” Karl’s assistant replied as she stepped forward and handed a document to the producer. “But we received clearance from Judge Dredd to extradite him from Tier 4… this document even has the signatures of King Bradley and the Emperor. We had to stuff the pockets of some lower-level bureaucrats, but we managed to work a deal where we have legal rights to this guy for the duration of the contest.”
“I see,” Karl said as he glanced back at the chained man. “What’s his name?”
The assistant shuffled through some other papers. “Voorhees,” she stammered. “…Jason Voorhees.”
“Excellent,” Karl replied as he walked away from the newest contestant. “Go get the papers ready… we’ll transfer him straight to the Barracks. I imagine he probably isn’t a people person.”
“Of course,” the assistant replied as she slipped out as quickly as she could, leaving Karl and the others in the room.
“I’d keep an eye on those chains,” Karl chuckled as he walked away. “They don’t seem that sturdy.”
As the door clicked behind the executive producer, one of the men left in the room turned sharply to see that Mr. Voorhees had vanished. “Where in the name of Kami did he go?!”
Chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh…
Another man glanced at the door and tried to make up his mind.
CHH CHH CHH … AHH AHH AHH
“Let’s just ge—” Before he could finish, a gloved fist ripped through his soft little throat.
Re: [Pre-Show] Contract Signings - Karl Jak - 05-16-2015
Hmmm . . . only a few more contracts remaining. Karl reminded himself as his hands shuffled through papers already inked. Eighteen, Mr. Voorhees, Cindy . . . who else to add?
Before his thoughts could connect, the intercom mounted on the upper-left corner of his desk interrupted with an obnoxious buzz!. His eye darted over to the speaker with curiosity as he extended his left hand out to grip the florally designed edge of the desk, stretching his thumb out to press the button below the speaker.
“Yes?” he answered with reserved optimism.
The voice on the other side undoubtedly belonged to the soft-spoken woman in her twenties—Carmen, the replacement intern while ‘Sexy Guns’ Roderick spent his vacation with his family; Karl had considered offing his wife more than once, if for nothing else than to give himself a chance to bribe ‘Sexy Guns’ into spending time with him, away from work (nothing got Jak’s blood going more than a strong-armed straight man).
“There is someone here that wants to see you, Mr. Jak.” Sue was a polite girl, for certain; that was one quality that Karl enjoyed about her, and one quality Roderick often lacked.
Karl could barely hold back his delight. “Fabulous, what’s his name?” he pressed the button again and replied. “Send him up.”
“I . . . I this is complaint,” she stammered, before Jak could even lift his thumb. “About being mildly pissed about some ‘no refreshments being available at the registration area’ nonsense. And P—Pep—”
“No matter. Send this person up.” He released the button and filed the papers across his desk into a neat pile.
“Okay, he’ll be up in a few moments.”
Karl leaned back in his throne of a seat and laced his hands together, fiddling his thumbs as his eyes wandered around the room. Excellent, he thought , with some help from my natural charm—fabulously alluring charm—I might have my next contract signee yet.
He hoped the new signee was a man, a man with a body sculpted by a God. The Jason Voorhees character from earlier was burly enough, but lacked the definition Karl sought for in his men. Oh yes! The type of posterboy that would send his legs quivering in excitement! It did not matter the persona of the man—badboy, goody-goody, emo, who the fucked cared?—as long as that body was worth taking shots off of. A nice package helped too, but Karl knew such dreams were more-so fantasies.
Knock! Knock! the door went, with two stern taps from the opposite side.
Karl’s eyes shot over to the door. “Oh, come in!” he beckoned as his thin lips curved into a smile. The figure entered the room, and as he did, Karl’s smile turned into a full-on grin. “Why, hello there.” From head to toe, Karl soaked in every inch; the man’s physique was hardly contained by what seemed to be a thin layer of blue and silver spandex. “What can I help you with, fine sir?” His eyes finally made it up to the man’s visor-shielded face.
“Are you the orchestrator of this event—Dante’s Abyss?” the man asked in a monotonous tone (to say his voice lacked emotion would be an understatement—it lacked a soul).
Though the man’s body sent Karl’s mind yearning, his lack of personality calmed any legitimate attraction. “So, what’s your complaint?”
The man stepped towards the desk, but stopped behind the wooden hair opposite of Karl. “As I examined one of your registration areas I noticed there were no refreshments being provided to the thirsty men and women that waited in line.” He paused, as if to take a breath and then continued, “I propose a total overhaul of registration facilities throughout the Omniverse, with a Pepsi product soda machine placed in every one of them.”
The man’s demands were laughable, but nonetheless an idea bubbled in Karl’s mind. “I tell you what, I will give into your wishes of available refreshments, on one condition: you allow me to incorporate you into the advertising of the event.”
Pepsi-man evaluated the questions several times in his head before answering: “I shall only agree if you meet the additional term of incorporating Pepsi (or any other Pepsi product) into your advertisements.”
Karl held back a laugh and leaned forward to comb through his pile of papers for an empty contract. “Fair enough,” he replied. Whether or not he would entirely agree to those terms was another story. All the contracts were printed out the same, and Pepsi-man’s would be no different—no guaranteed accommodations. He pulled back his Armani blazer and retrieved a felt pen from the inside pocket, placing it next to the contract. “Sign on the line at the bottom.”
Without a glance-over, Pepsi-man took the pen and printed his name out at the bottom of the contract.
Karl leaned back in his seat. Excellent.
Re: [Pre-Show] Contract Signings - Karl Jak - 05-23-2015
Quote:Occurs just before everyone was goaded/guided into the Barracks
Everyone was either on their way to the Barracks or in the process of tying up their loose ends.
That left Karl with an hour or so to tie up any loose ends before he had to start coordinating all the various streaming services that would provide the denizens of the Omniverse with a look at the drama and action as it unfolded in the Barrack and the Island. With his thoughts to himself, the executive producer made his way back toward the private part of the facility, where he could go over schematics and make certain all of the hardware and software would work. As much as he loved the unpredictable nature of Dante’s Abyss, Karl wanted to make sure everything else ran well within operational parameters.
Unfortunately for the producer, he opened his office only to find that there was someone waiting for him. And not just any random person—no… this was a giant, hulking mountain of a man in a sleeveless shirt and torn up blue jeans. Upon hearing the door open, the bald figure spun around and lifted a single eyebrow at Karl Jark. In one hand, this new figure grasped an already signed contract, and in the other, he had what seemed to be a very late breakfast.
“May I help you?” Karl asked as the man stood up and it became quite obvious that he was nearly six and a half feet tall.
“Someone told the Rock that you were hosting a fighting competition… and you didn’t think call to Rock?”
“I—”
“It doesn’t matter what you think!” The fighter shouted, his mouth turning into a smirk as he dropped the contract and the pastry on Karl’s desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to layeth the smacketh down on all these candy asses…” before the executive producer could protest, the man stepped up in his face and produced a microphone from seemingly nowhere. He brought it up to his mouth, leaned back, and let loose: “If you smeeeeeeeellllll—” Karl watched in confusion as the man used his tongue to drag out the syllable a few more times. “—eellll… What the Rock. Is. Cooking!”
The mic hit the ground with a dull thud as music began to play from the PA system. The bulky man shoved passed Karl Jak, leaving the producer still trying to understand what the stranger had just said… let alone what the Rock had done that warranted smelling.