"My 'Deadly Spider' poisons its victims," said a skinny man with dirty blonde hair in a high-pitched, mocking voice. He was wearing an oversized black coat and he spoke with a swirl and flourish, as if he were acting in some kind of play. "No one can survive a bite from this instrument of death."
A shrill, horrible laugh came in response, a noise that shook the nerves of everyone inside the boardroom and raised goosebumps all over Miss Planner's exposed flesh.
"Keheeheehee! My weapon was forged by a demon and imbued with its evil power," boasted an old man in a tattered robe. "Those who merely see the edge of it die screaming in agony. It has absorbed thousands of human souls! Even I fear this cursed tool, 'Disaster.' As the bearer of this ultimate weapon... I claim the chair next to the general manager."
It was a typical day at the Knife Slaves’ temporary headquarters in the Broad Building. The boardroom was filled with aged knife-fighters squabbling with each other like toddlers in a play pen.
"Miss Planner, my 'Spiraling Blade' is an elegant weapon, capable of slicing through bone and flesh with but the flick of a wrist," announced a balding, middle-aged man in a black trench coat, gesturing to his corkscrew-shaped dagger with pride. "If you wish to train under me as my student..."
"Okay, okay! Everyone settle down!" shouted the Knife Maniac. "Miss Planner doesn't have much time, so if we could all just take a seat-"
"I deserve this honor the most!" sneered a young, well-built fighter with a shaved head in tight, dark clothes holding a tiny pair of scissors. "I'm known as the Carving Fiend, heir to the great Scissor Fiend's legacy! Anyone who challenges me will die! I will carve you from neck to tailbone with one swift motion!”
The twelve Knife Slave executives stomped, shouted, banged on the table, and waved their weapons in each others faces as they jostled for a seat near the little blonde cutie with perfect posture, perfectly applied makeup, and a perfectly stylish little black business suit. She was loving the attention and wasn't even trying to hide it. Her smirk looked exactly like an adorably naughty little girl's, and her adorable naughtiness emboldened the Knife Slaves to show her their secret techniques and hidden powers and mysterious weapons with ever-growing enthusiasm.
"My 'Shadow Rupture' technique is the ultimate expression of a weapon-wielding Knife Slave's spirit," growled an overweight man in a filthy blue tracksuit, standing with crossed arms over his large belly. "I'm the first and only man to ever master it. With this lethal strike I will take my seat at the top table!"
"Now that I've drawn my blade, 'Evil Wind,' there's no escaping the storm," hissed a wrinkled old man in an expensive-looking suit. "No matter where you run, the winds will howl and blow you away..."
"Alright! Enough already!" barked the Knife Maniac. "We are here today so that we can give Miss Planner, the consultant we hired, the information she needs to do her job! We -“
"Disrespectful child! How dare you interrupt me?!" shrieked the little old man, throwing his tiny fists on the desk in protest.
"But we -“
"Shut your filthy mouth, you brat! We shall go by seniority! Me on the left, and the Shining Blade on the right!"
"What?!" shouted a man in a black wooden mask. "That's ridiculous, I should get to sit next to her!"
"You are an old fool with a weak grip," snarled the Carving Maniac, menacingly snipping his scissors. "I ought to slice you down where you stand!"
"You have insulted me in front of the general manager! You shall not have this seat of honor! I'll tear out your hair and beat your body into pulp before I allow you to come one step closer!"
"Don't even think of touching me or I will rip you limb from limb. You fat old goat!"
"He has stolen my chair. I -"
"Get off of me! Get off of me at once!"
The boardroom descended into chaos. The little old guy was swinging a chair around. The skinny man in black with the spiral dagger was screaming and jumping to defend himself with wild punches, kicks, and elbow strikes. The rest of the executives drew their blades and squared off, hooting like monkeys as they prepared for battle. And poor Miss Planner sat frozen in her seat, terrified.
It was strange. She thought she was used to this. But although the Elders got a little wild sometimes, but they never went as far as pulling weapons on one another. Seeing the cold glimmer of steel in the board members' hands made her blood run cold and her knees go weak.
Miss Planner hated violence. Just thinking about it was unpleasant enough. But seeing it firsthand... she knew she couldn't just sit back and watch these men hurt each other, but she was too scared to try to stop them. The little blonde general manager held her hands over her ears, clenched her eyes shut, and prayed to the God of Destruction for an end to all this insanity.
"Enough! Stop, stop, stop! Stop it!" screeched the silver-haired Knife Maniac as her fist slammed against the table, rattling it down to its base and sending documents flying everywhere. "You pathetic excuses for men! I am Miss Planner's favorite, and you all know it! The only reason you're all here is because she loves me the most! I'm the one who brought her here, and I'm the only one sitting next to her! So sit down and shut up! If you can't behave, leave!"
A hush swept over everyone present. After an extended period of awkward silence punctuated by the clatter of chairs, the Knife Slave executives slowly lowered themselves to their seats, glaring hatefully at the others in an impotent show of defiance. Miss Planner was shaking uncontrollably, trying to catch her breath. The Knife Maniac glared at each and every one of her colleagues with an expression of cold hatred.
"You lot... really are quite a disgrace," the silver-haired woman muttered. Her lips trembled as she tried desperately to contain the flood of bitter emotions welling up within her. "What would the Blade Hermit think if he were to see this? Miss Planner came here out of the goodness of her heart, to help us. She's the only person in the Pit willing to do that! And this is how you repay her?"
The Knife Slave executives shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Their expressions ranged from fear and nervousness to sullen resignation. None of them dared to look directly at Miss Planner. The tiny woman who they so admired was trembling in her chair, clutching her purse tightly in her hand and biting her lip in silent agony. She was trying not to cry.
All any of the executives wanted was to win Miss Planner's favor and earn her respect, to build a professional relationship with her, to impress her. But they'd only succeeded in humiliating themselves in front of her. Frightening her half to death. Proving once and for all that the Knife Slaves weren't worth her precious time or energy.
After what felt like hours, Miss Planner coughed loudly, struggling to clear her throat and find some sort of semblance of dignity as she stood and faced the Knife Slaves. Her voice quavered, cracking under strain, but still she spoke bravely and firmly in spite of herself.
"I can't pretend I haven't noticed how rude the Knife Slaves' executive board has been to me today. This isn't how a group of professionals ought to behave. It was uncalled for."
"Oh... oh Miss Planner," whispered the little old man sheepishly, "I apologize for my behavior. My mind has... gone, you see. Forgive me, if you will..."
"Me too, ma'am," the balding fighter in the black trench coat said quietly as his eyes wandered down towards the floor. "I'm sorry."
The Knife Slaves lowered their heads respectfully. Miss Planner looked over them with contempt and sighed. Her face softened as she turned her eyes towards the silver-haired woman who dragged her into this mess. The two exchanged a brief glance of mutual understanding.
"It's very unbecoming of a group of grown adults, getting into knife fights and throwing chairs around," continued Miss Planner, more quietly than before. "I don't know what got into all of you today, but I expect much better from each of you going forward. Is that understood?"
Miss Planner raised her chin high and fixed her steely gaze upon each of the executives in turn, daring them to contradict her. One by one, the executives nodded and quietly grunted their assent. Having extracted an appropriate degree of contrition from her clients, the little manager gave a small, satisfied smile and sat back down in her chair, letting go of her tight grasp on her tiny purse and crossing her legs primly.
"Now then..." said Miss Planner, still a little shaky but recovering her equilibrium. "There's much work to be done, so we should get right to the meat of the matter. I came here this morning to hear, in your own words, how you all feel the Knife Slaves' operation is being managed. Who wants to go first? The Carving Fiend? Please, go ahead. And no beating around the bush, if you would. We’ve wasted enough time on preliminaries. Let’s talk business.”
