crack!

CRaCK!

CRACK!

The images on what appears to be a large plasma screen is partially blocked by the stalwart black silhouette which directly contrasts with the colors coalescing onto the screen which forms into image of a… court room? There Doc Placebo can be viewed dressed as a federal judge, your view of his flowing black judicial robes obstructed by his position behind the bench. The camera angle on the screen shifts about the court room allowing you to view while Placebo addresses the court, his voice inaudible. As the camera pans the room there are a few things a keen eye might pick out from vision now being offered up to them, a melted action figure, a woman quite clearly irate, and two internationally known figures… a voice protrudes upon the scene emanating from the man shrouded in the shadows.

Doc Placebo, “Those three sounds heralded my entrance into the United Wrestling Alliance over a year ago as I oversaw what viewers would soon realize to be nothing more than a farce of a trial. Now they do so again here in this… place. Little then did I know that I could summarize my exploits so eloquently, that I would fill the mold so perfectly. I didn’t know then, but I do now, and so did Abraham Maslow in the 1900’s.”

The images behind the shadowed figure quickly shift once again. This time we are taken to the image of a junkyard in the twilight of the night. The combined light shining down upon the earth from moon and other celestial bodies baths mounds of trash and an out of place Icecream truck in a forebodingly frail light. A security guard nervously scans his surroundings while with a clutching onto his baton with an unsteady hand. The camera angle quickly swivels about as a dart impacts into the back of the guard’s neck. His body tenses quickly while his hand reaches quickly to the source of a sharp but oddly quickly dulling pain as he tries to look backwards in an attempt to glean just a glimpse of his assailant. He fails. Collapsing to the ground unconscious his falling body allows us to once again view Placebo aiming a dart gun at the fallen man. The voice once again interrupts as the Doctor speaks. The images played on the screen continue while Placebo tosses the unconscious guard into the back of the truck which from the inside appears to be a covert mobile chemical weapons facility.

Doc Placebo, “Now… what does Abraham Maslow have to do with my early stages of my UWA career? For those of you who have not had the benefit of a… basic education Mr. Maslow created a little something called the hierarchy of needs.”

Doc Placebo, “Every stage in Maslow’s hierarchy illustrates another need that humans at least in the United States seek to accommodate before the next. In my debut while working as an agent for the International Incident under it’s leader; Nickolas Globe, I began work securing my initial needs.”

Doc Placebo, “Food, clothing, shelter.”

Doc Placebo, “These things I gained after my arrival in this country by providing the Incident with the illicit chemical weaponry which it sought.”

The images of the duplicitous frozen deserts truck fade from the television screen behind Placebo as the truck’s sliding doors are shut on the tranquilized guard no doubt to be used for chemical weapons tests. A new series of images replace the old; the icecream truck crashing through a barricade at the Andorran Consulate in the District of Columbia, A pair of figures standing on rooftop; swords drawn.

Doc Placebo, “Securing my Country’s Consulate from the grips of the man who had been my mentor in years past provided me with shelter and what was once the seat of my power here in these United States. I was now prepared to ascend to the next level of Maslow’s hierarchy.”

Doc Placebo, “Safety.”

Once more images on the screen behind the Andorran National are replaced. This time you are met with the image of several men competing within the confines of a steel cage. Several competitors have since reached their limit, one breathing heavily lies collapsed next to a fallen ladder, another collapses in a heap in a far corner. A table already set with one body resting upon its surface shatters violently while the Doctor slams the body of a man dressed in red through it and the man already lying on the table’s now shattered surface. With no one left to oppose him Doc sets the ladder and climbs up stair by stair. One man’s vision comes into focus seeing Placebo rise and lashes out throwing his body towards the ladder clipping it out from underneath the once green wrestler, but it is too late… Doc grasps the belt on his way down and collides with the mat sending forth a volley of sweat droplets into the air while the scene begins to fade behind the Andorran.

Doc Placebo, “It wasn’t too hard, securing my first title. The UWA Television Title brought me the security I sought… as I was being scouted.”

Doc Placebo, “The Kovenant’s Eric Masterson extended me an offer and I accepted. Now I had allies… now it was time to ascend yet another level.”

Doc Placebo, “Social needs.”

This time a montage of images assail your eyes conjoined with the occasional feral scream of those featured. Images of Placebo torturing an assemblage of people all chained within the confined of a dark room. The room’s walls are a dark stone partially covered with some sort of odd fungus. The chains glint somewhat reflecting back a bright light coming from a series of simple light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. You observe as the Doctor, a young woman, and several other seemingly regular people take turns whipping, flogging, crushing, stretching, and otherwise tormenting those imprisoned within what UWA fans know to be the Consulate’s cellar. While listening to the symphony of screams incited from past victims Placebo breathes deeply while he savors the sounds of agony, his hand shaking slightly as he recalls every slash of the whip, every crack of the kendo stick.

Doc Placebo, “The sweet sound of the defenseless breaking under my care is exquisite. I’ve suffered under the strength of the greatest that UWA had to offer, allowing my body to be hurt in ways I could never have imagined. In my mind I embraced every hurt, every pain, every injury… and learned. Through these studies I came to realize enlightenment… no… endarkenment.”

Doc Placebo, “I learned I appreciated my suffering, it educated me, taught me how to hurt others better, more effectively and I grew to enjoy the taste. The very flavor of pain. The look in my opponents eyes while they languished… finally I had found peace.”

Doc Placebo, “Creating the Koven I then progressed to Maslow’s final level…”

Doc Placebo, “Self-Actualization.”

Doc Placebo, “I had created a force which devoured UWA, I didn’t even need to participate. My influences were felt throughout the Alliance without my needing to even lift a finger as if I were Adam Smith manipulating the economy with my invisible hand.”

The screen which had been projecting to you images of Placebo’s past once more falls silent. The colorful hues which had been playing a montage of suffering falls dark as blackness engulf the screen. Illuminated then from a light coming from a source off camera you are now allowed to view Doc Placebo as more than just a silhouette. The newcomer is dressed much as he was during last week’s Wargames as he has donned upon a black leather jacket as well as a business casual ensemble. In the Andorran’s hand rests a sheathed Spanish Rapier. The Doctor’s hand rests just above the hilt of the weapon as his thumb absent mindedly rubs the sheath’s texture.

Doc Placebo, “That is why I am here TPW. There was nothing left for me in UWA, no one left worthy of being broken by my hands. So here I am… along with my old ally Dahrkov and new compatriot Amos…”

Doc Placebo, “Can you hurt me TPW? I hope you can… the sheep I see before me are weak. Merely held up in place for the simple reason there are no challengers for their titles. They will find that situation… remedied.”

Doc Placebo, “Take heed while you can Hugoku… Downfall…”

Doc Placebo, “You have been chosen, ordained to become the first to break under Amos’ and my hands in this federation.”

Doc Placebo, “Together we will bring forth a pain that you have never fathomed and you will fall… but that will not be enough. I want more than your defeat, more than the accolades which I will receive as I strip you of your championships, I want your blood... and I will have it. With it I shall decorate the ring in a work of sadistic abstract art. The ring is my canvas, you are my instruments and through these acts… TPW will realize why it is that I…

…am the…

…Omega Sin!”

With those final words spoken the Doctor’s grip on his rapier tightens. Turning on his heel the foreign national turns his back towards the camera indicating his clear contempt for those with whom TPW clearly proclaims to be champions. As Placebo does this the scene slowly fades and is replaced with nothing but shadow and darkness.