The flagship
Jul 17, 2010 20:50:31 GMT -5
Post by Adrian Veidt on Jul 17, 2010 20:50:31 GMT -5
Wednesday morning at Veidt Enterprises began this week with a pair of men in butchers' aprons carrying the skinned but otherwise quite fresh leg of a very recently deceased cow up to Mr. Veidt's office and presenting it with great show to a barricaded purple lynx, who seized on it and began gnawing with great glee.
By the time the oil company tycoons entered to speak to Adrian about their apprehension that the coal-free electrical plants he was investing in would take over their markets once the spark plug patent was cleared, Bubastis was a bloody-mouthed, growling thing tearing at the flesh of the cow leg with long, bared teeth.
Adrian smiled at her as though she were simply a small kitten wrestling a grasshopper under her paws.
"She's really a very sweet creature," he said idly. "You would never know she could crush a man's head between her jaws most of the time..."
There was an entirely calculated pause of a few seconds before he looked up again and directed his smile at the visiting opposition.
"Now, gentlemen. Let's get down to business."
Two hours later, Bubastis had stripped the bones clean. She and her little pen were cleaned up by a pair of specially hired groomers who then escorted her out. The oilmen left decidedly paler and less inclined to argue with Adrian.
The last of the cow's blood was cleaned up from the treated marble floor. Adrian checked his watch. Ten minutes until the next meeting, this time with a cancer charity. He turned a few photographs on his desk (two of Micaela, a new arrival depicting Adrien lounging on the sofa and beaming up at him, one of Bubastis at six months old) so that they faced toward where his visitors would be standing.
Another hour later, Veidt Enterprises had given five million dollars to the oncology department of a prominent children's hospital, and in exchange the chairman of the organization gratefully announced that the new ward would bear Adrian's name.
It was almost eleven AM now.
By the time the oil company tycoons entered to speak to Adrian about their apprehension that the coal-free electrical plants he was investing in would take over their markets once the spark plug patent was cleared, Bubastis was a bloody-mouthed, growling thing tearing at the flesh of the cow leg with long, bared teeth.
Adrian smiled at her as though she were simply a small kitten wrestling a grasshopper under her paws.
"She's really a very sweet creature," he said idly. "You would never know she could crush a man's head between her jaws most of the time..."
There was an entirely calculated pause of a few seconds before he looked up again and directed his smile at the visiting opposition.
"Now, gentlemen. Let's get down to business."
Two hours later, Bubastis had stripped the bones clean. She and her little pen were cleaned up by a pair of specially hired groomers who then escorted her out. The oilmen left decidedly paler and less inclined to argue with Adrian.
The last of the cow's blood was cleaned up from the treated marble floor. Adrian checked his watch. Ten minutes until the next meeting, this time with a cancer charity. He turned a few photographs on his desk (two of Micaela, a new arrival depicting Adrien lounging on the sofa and beaming up at him, one of Bubastis at six months old) so that they faced toward where his visitors would be standing.
Another hour later, Veidt Enterprises had given five million dollars to the oncology department of a prominent children's hospital, and in exchange the chairman of the organization gratefully announced that the new ward would bear Adrian's name.
It was almost eleven AM now.