The weakest of the Pit's white organizations, the Knife Slaves were wholly dedicated to mastering the art of the blade. Although mostly made up of thugs and common criminals with little psychic aptitude, the overwhelming popularity of their knife-fighting techniques allowed them to remain relevant in the face of more powerful competition over their entire forty-year history. But they were starting to lose influence as the public's interest shifted away from weapons-based martial arts in general, and they were struggling to stay afloat in a sea of psychic conflict.

The Knife Slaves couldn't quite match up to the flashy abilities of the Controllers or Wild Cards, the technological prowess of the Black Gloves, or the sheer brutality of the Devils of Evil. All they had to their names was a dwindling collection of training centers and fighting arenas, staffed by an aging crew of knife-fighters whose skills were growing increasingly irrelevant by the day. The Slaves' legendary leader and founder, the Blade Hermit, had stepped down and disappeared from public life years ago. In his wake came a string of unsuccessful successors, most of whom didn't even survive long enough to make a serious impact on the direction of the organization. All in all, the future of the Slaves looked bleak.

"And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that our leadership won't stop bickering like a bunch of schoolgirls!" groaned the Knife Maniac. "Everyone wants control and no one wants to lead. There are constant power struggles. It's getting to the point where we don't have enough resources to fend off the street gangs trying to take over our businesses. And they never let me out to fight! If it was up to me, I'd wipe out every gang in our territory in a matter of days, but the board doesn't want me showing off my skills! So instead, they keep me locked away like a pet dog. It's so unfair!"

"So, who's chairman of the board currently?" asked Miss Planner.
"It's the Knife Shadow. Son of the last chairman. Not like it matters! He's going to be dead within a month if he can't get the Cursed Blade and the Shining Blade to stop fighting!"

The silver-haired woman paused, sighing deeply as she ran her fingers over the edge of the cruise ship's railing. She took in a deep breath of salty ocean air, exasperated. Miss Planner stood beside her enjoying some high-quality Nuke produced by the Pit Razors, whose uniquely mellow spin on the drug made for an exceptionally smooth flavor and aroma. The tiny blonde manager had some Rampage packed away in her luggage, but she didn't want to imbue her fancy new clothes with the powerful drug's disgusting chemical scent.

"You poor girl. I'm so sorry to hear that," sighed Miss Planner, shaking her head in disappointment. "Our group suffered from the same issues, no, it still does, but we had enough capital to scale back what we were doing and expand our business in a different direction. If I can offer you a small comfort, the Chosen Ones will always have room for you..."
"Hm. Yeah. I guess that would be a fine way for things to end up," mused the Knife Maniac. "I'm sorry to bring up such a gloomy subject when we're so far from work. I know it's not your problem. And hey, this really is a fun trip, isn't it? We've got a great view of the night sky, and that buffet was incredible. Can't complain about the food. Now that I think about it, the Razors might be trying to snatch me up too. Hahaha!"

"Yes, this has been quite the diversion. I'm definitely going to put in a nice big order to thank the Razors for taking us on such a wonderful cruise."
"Miss Planner, I'm so glad I met you here. I thought I'd be stuck talking to the stupid Cut Throats all week! Who knew the brain behind the Chosen Ones was such a pretty girl?"

"The pleasure is all mine. I wish you could have come to our conference instead of... who was it again? The Spectral Blade? Specter Blade? I can't remember. He wasn't much of a conversationalist. It was like talking to a wall."
"Oh, him. Yeah, he's a... he's a little past his prime. Hahahaha! Most of them are, sadly! Too old, too stubborn, and too proud to see that the Knife Slaves are going nowhere fast. It's just such a damn shame. If only we had someone like you on our side! You'd get us back on track in no time."

"Well, it's very kind of you to say that."
"If you don't mind me asking, what would you do if you were a Knife Slave? I'm kind of curious."

"Off the top of my head... well, I would give serious thought to making some sort of aggressive acquisition. Buy out a small company and roll them into your ranks. Your organization needs some fresh blood flowing through its veins if it's going to last. I know you're getting a trickle of new members from your martial arts studios, but they're the wrong kind of people. You need people who know how to make money. How to create jobs. How to survive in the twenty-first century. The Knife Slaves are hanging on to traditions that died out a long time ago, and it's dragging you down. If you ask me, you don't have much time left before the Knife Slaves go the way of the Sealed Jar."
"That's rather grim. But you might be right..."

"Look. I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I mean, I want the Knife Slaves to survive just as much you do. The white organizations need to stick together now more than ever. It's gone beyond business, now. The Controllers, Black Gloves, and Wild Cards are working together. We're all in the same boat, like it or not."
"So, what are you saying? Are you offering us protection?"

"No. But, as a personal favor, I am willing to help you out. When we get back to dry land, I want you to hire me as a consultant. If you give me some access to your organization, I can help you come up with a plan to get things back on track. The Knife Slaves aren't going to survive on reputation forever. You need quality new members, a reliable source of income, and a mechanism to create and implement new ideas. It'll take a lot of time and effort, and you'll have to get the leadership on board one way or another, but it can be done. And I can show you how to do it. You just have to trust me. What do you think?"

"It sounds too good to be true. Are you sure you're not some kind of angel, Miss Planner? You sure look like one... hahaha!"
"I'm not an angel. And if I'm being honest, anything I suggest will probably make things worse for you in the short term before it pays off in the long term. But that's the price you pay for sustainability... unless you'd prefer to just stay at the bottom forever?"

"No, no. I want to do it. I really appreciate this. More than you know. And if this works out, I'll make sure the Knife Slaves know exactly who it was that saved their sorry hides from bankruptcy court. I'm looking forward to working with you, Miss Planner. And I'm looking forward to showing you the inner workings of our humble organization."
"Perfect. We both have something to look forward to when we get back, huh? Now, let's take our sweet, sweet time on this cruise... because when we get back, we are both going to have a lot of work to do."

"It's a deal! Let's go back to my room and have a drink to celebrate! I've got a nice bottle of red wine I've been saving for a special occasion, and this sure seems like the right time to crack it open! Do you like red wine? Oh, you must. I know you have a taste for the finer things..."