Six Feet Under? Not YET
Doc Placebo, "Well... it has been a long time, hasn't it UWA?"
Doc Placebo, "Wondering how it is that I am possibly on the air while there is no longer a Rampage to promote? Well wonder no longer, I am broadcasting over the International Incident Media.
Raising one of his arms the Andorran Wrestler smiles as he once more reminds the diminishing UWA audience of his original fealties as each and every remaining UWA faithful comes eye to wrist with the Doctor's Sickle & Hammer tattoo. Yes it has been a while since the days of the Commumentalist Manifesto and II's second coming in the form of the Red Title Wave but the framework has always remained in place. Placebo places his hand once more on the sheathed blade of his sword and continues to speak.
Doc Placebo, "Now that that question has been fielded why don't we ask a new one shall we? Who would have thought that in this little era of desperation that UWA management would take such a sweet and precious resource such as time and waste it by not placing me back onto the cards?"
Doc Placebo, "I certainly did not believe that it would be possible especially when they need someone... ANYONE to make an impact. However, those of you who are still there... still listening... know I've had other...
Doc Placebo, "...diversions which required my complete consideration of late.
Doc Placebo, "Lets take a look at my most recent off screen projects, shall we?
While the Doctor behinds his narration we are treated to an after production series of effects taking us back to the events which Placebo is currently retelling as if he were Homer himself recounting the Trojan war in the Iliad. Images of the Doctor are eaten away from your sight and replaced with the likeness of another Koven affiliate; Spitfly. He doesn't look very happy. In fact one could easily argue that he looks the very antithesis of happy. And for those of you who don't know the meaning of the word antithesis there is something else about him makes you think that perhaps he is quite angry. Maybe it's the fact he's loading a clip into a smoking silver handgun. A Colt 45 to be exact. Quite obviously its been recently used, a keen eye would have obviously noticed the before mentioned smoke or perhaps the array of blood soaked dead Minion bodies which surround the former UWA Television Champion who is currently peeking around the corner of a doorway. The architecture of the room and the dead Minions point to the obvious... The Doctor and Mr. Fly are having a little war.
Brakakakakakakakakkakakakaka!
Automatic weapons fire lashes out towards Spitfly as he peeks into the adjacent room via the doorway from the forms of several leather jacket & black mask wearing Minions specializing in only one task to serve their master; killing.
Tuck! Tuck! Tuck! Tuck! Tuck!
Ducking back into the room with the agility of a startled gazelle running from a cheetah while having a heart attack Spitfly avoids the gunfire meant for his heart as a ravenous leopard gives chase just a few paws behind. The bullets slam into the wall just next to where Spit's head had been a moment previously. The hail of flying lead ceases...
SILENCE.
Silence permeates the air and a crouched Spitfly remembers to breathe. Holding his gun in one hand Spitfly takes his right and moves his finger from his forehead, to his left shoulder, then his right and finally to his chest while murmuring something to an unseen apparition.
Spitfly, "By the father...
...the son...
...and the holy spirit.
Spitfly, "Lord, I know I ain't perfect. And I don't pray often or even tip money into the collection basket... but I'm sure you're watchin' right now. You know it, 'an I know it... nobody is gonna miss these guys and nothin's gonna bring them back... I know its one of your top ten peeves but could you...
...Let me take 'em out?"
Nothing. No reply. But then praying isn't like IM where you're going to get an instant reply accompanied by a friendly chime. Although sometimes you might think God just decided to block you. Or maybe that crazy little girl that hit your car two months ago might seem like it was his version of "warning" you. And if that's the case I sure like AOL a whole lot better 'cause I don't think my corolla can take much more but wait... I'm writing in the 1st person narrative now. Damnit, lets get back on track... this is a DOC PLACEBO RP after all the OMEGA SIN! No more of this inner voice crap. Now... silence was Spitfly's only answer as he nods his head acknowledging this.
Spitfly, "Amen."
Standing up.
Spitfly, "Ohh Kay Now. I'm RELOAADED!"
With a quick pace the fly strikes into the spiders web meting out just own form of justice in the form of several gunshots.
BANG! thud.
Spitfly, "Owe ya one."
ThUNk!
Sending Spitfly back to reality I make my presence felt by throwing a blood stained knife which had pierced Becky's... excuse me... Minion 224's hand. The dagger slams into the wooden floor imbedding itself just a few feet from my stable mate whose loyalties are quite in question. Shaking my head Placebo simply looks down at the former KickAss Co. member as if he knew this day would come. Maybe Doc just never thought Spitfly had the will for it... whatever the motivation for the nod it didn't matter. Turning his back on the wrestler with a single smart motion on one heel the Andorran strides away from Spitfly and quickly transverses his way up a fight of stairs leading to the roof and the open air surrounding the Konclave.
"Coming?"
Only one word is spoken and spoken is hardly the word to describe how Placebo uttered the word. It was more like he spat the single word sentence like an insult or a command. More than likely it was both. The knife at Spitfly's feet fills him with pure rage, just as Doc knew it would. That knife stirred recent memories, reaffirming his goals, his drive... and bringing forth a realization. Placebo had used Spitfly's rampage to his advantage and stolen Minion 224 back. With the full force of his fury fueling him the Fly charges towards the stairs.
Brakakakakakaka!
Another trap! The Doctor had already ascended the stairs and a Minion aiming the standard Minion handheld automatic armament (a P90 Sub Machinegun) now engaged him from above the stairs. Reacting quickly Spitfly's only recourse is to move quickly to the other side of the stairs and fire off several shots forcing the Minion to take cover. It's called suppression fire. The Minion's ears sensing a lull in the Fly's rate of fire gives him a false sense of security which is immediately acted upon. The Slave in thrall to Placebo recklessly returns to his former position and is about to fire when...
BLAM!
A single shot from Spit's silver colt crushes through the human trash that has become the former World Champion's Minion. Marauding through a rib, lungs, veins, and flesh the bullet exits the back of the slave's body; its speed is hardly impeded as it goes on undetected by the human eye. Stepping out onto the Konclave's rooftop Spitfly stands on top of the gravel covered mansion's roof looking down on the slave's body whose blood is now seeping into the gravel.
Spitfly, "Yeah... I'm coming, fucker."
claNK!
From behind Doc Placebo strikes with the ornate hilt of his rapier. The blow directed at the back of Spitfly's neck connects with a resounding clash nearly toppling the potential usurper. Although the Doctor has the opportunity to follow up or perhaps have dealt a killing stroke with his edged blade he has opted against such a stratagem and now stands tall holding his so that the blade is directly in front of his own face as he stares down his wobbly opponent.
Spitfly, "Why?"
Doc Placebo, "What? I believe that's my line. You're the one who decided to play GTA all over my living room. It's a good thing the ESRB gave that trash an AO rating and got it off the shelves. It's obviously corrupting America's youth... Fucking Rockstar Games... corrupting America's children is my job."
Spitfly, "I won't ask you a second time, why did you hurt Becky... you could have killed her."
Doc Placebo, "Is that why you're here? Seriously why did you come back to my house? You know the things that go bump in the night here are more than just nightmares, their reality. This 'Becky' of yours is MINE. Just like this house we're standing on now. She's my damn property. Like every Minion you killed."
Spitfly, "Yeah well their not your property anymore."
Doc Placebo, "They served their purpose... forcing you to use precious bullets from your gun... such a distasteful weapon. Only a few shots and your as helpless as little Becky. Now this on the other hand..."
Placebo slashes his sword about in the air in a quick motion slicing through nothing but oxygen before returning his sword to it's previous stance.
Doc Placebo, "...never runs out of ammo."
Spitfly, "But ya see... I only NEED ONE SHOT!"
No more words, not from Placebo. He merely nods. His eyes now transfixed by the glow the moonlight striking the naked steel of his Spanish companion. Spitfly raises his Colt...
The Doctor jolts instantly to his most natural stance. As a right handed swordsman his blade pointed towards his opponent. His left leg is stiff; his right is bent at the knee forcing his body to bend towards his opponent. His back is straight. The left is raised and bent at the elbow, his hand held effortlessly. The purpose of the raised left arm is balance and form. Although modern day fencers allow the free arm to dangle or sometimes rest the free hand on a hip Placebo has not studied fencing the sport... The Doctor is a master of classical French Fencing... dueling.
BLAM!
*click*
The two combatants both act with haste. Placebo's blade sings through the air colliding with Fly's Colt. The blade bends slightly from the force of the Andorran's parry but quickly the blade holds pushing the firearm slightly left just as Spit fires off two rounds exhausting the bullets remaining in his clip. His eyes go wide. A minute smile slithers onto Placebo's lips.
Another parry, stronger this time, knocks Spitfly's arm wildly to the left leaving him wide open for a quick low spinning roundhouse kick to the stomach.
Coming back from his roundhouse the Koven Leader once more cuts through the air with his rapier like lightening. Perhaps an after edit effect or your imagination but for a second your ears believe they heard a small clash of thunder as the air the Spanish blade had cut through like a ginzu slams back together into one mass. The dull edge of the Andorran's blade slams into the calf muscles of a very startled Spitfly who is quite unaccustomed to any type of swordsmanship. He is quickly toppled by the blow. For a second he is stunned. Placebo simply remains crouched, his rapier begging him for the taste of blood that it so badly desires but has been ever so cruelly denied.
Doc Placebo, "Don't get up."
Ignoring Placebo's words the Fly tries to scramble to his feet but is quickly met with the deadly edge of a rapier at his throat.
Doc Placebo, "I insist."
Doc Placebo, "Now... little fly, it is time...
Doc Placebo, "Do you want to be voted off the island... or claim immunity..."
Doc Placebo, "If you stay... you know what that means... yes?"
Feeling the pointed end of the sword begin to dig deeper into his neck the Fly nods.
Doc Placebo, "Good... then I'll have your answer."
Just as Spitfly opens his mouth to speak the scene is quickly cut off and replaced with the image of the Doctor once more sitting in his black leather chair in the Andorran Consulate. The former TV Champ is no where to be seen, that is unless you are discussing the former Incident Member's TV Title run but that was not the run which was being alluded. With the spotlight still shining down upon the Andorran he begins to speak...
Doc Placebo, "So what do you think Spitfly chose?"
Doc Placebo, "Did he decide to remain a member of the Koven?"
Doc Placebo, "Or did he meet another fate?"
With that sentence said Placebo looks down upon his silver edged sword as if reminded of a fond memory. His gaze returns to the II Media camera and continues his declarations.
Doc Placebo, "I'll leave others to tell that tale. However, there is one thing yet that I must discuss."
Doc Placebo, "Rumors have begun to swirl about UWA Towers that management does not consider UWA to be.... as accountants would say... a 'going concern'."
Doc Placebo, "Talk of corporate takeovers loom over the company like hurricanes to Florida. I'm letting it be official right now that I will not be part of any buy out. If any outside force wishes to take over UWA they do it without the Omega Sin... but I'm not done here yet..."
Doc Placebo, "No... this is my time. The zero hour. And during this rapture I shall capture the European Title thus saving it from damnation. I doubt my opponent will show, it is part of an ever larger pattern of opponents who seemingly disappear once booked against my name. I suppose I cannot blame them, I wouldn't want to face me after all."
Doc Placebo, "But as I read this... Cortez has no interest in the European Title... he left UWA to pursue higher ambitions. It is no wonder there has been no word from him of late. This belt is exactly what he left UWA to avoid!"
Doc Placebo, "But I shall not disregard this title, I will save it from the depths... because it was a former holder of the belt who brought me into the Kovenant... one Eric Masterson.
Doc Placebo, "I will not disrespect his legacy, and in doing so create my own. Sweet dreams, UWA."
The spotlight falls dark. Light is expelled from the room and thus from the entire scene. The curtains fall, your view of Placebo, his chair, the sword which may have taken Spitfly's life and everything surrounding the Doctor is now obstructed. But without sight your ears pick up where another sense has failed. A new sound fills the scene as it is engulfed in darkness; it is the sound of applause. The scene comes to a close and sometime after a sudden deluge of red roses assault the stage the last of those in attendance are ushered away and bid a good night.