THE SCENE OPENS TO A SLURPING SOUND AND AN ODD OCEAN OF BUBBLING TRANSLUCENT LIQUID. The camera pans backward slightly to reveal the fizzing ocean being lured into a cavernous void. Panning back evermore the camera reveals that we are observing an extremely close view of a glass of champagne, the alcoholic beverage is being consumed by the Omega Sin, Doc Placebo. The Killer Championship is not with him, it has instead been placed on the floor beside the Doctor’s brown leather chair directly in front of Erica’s lithe form. To the Doctor’s right sits a coffee table where there is a bottle ensuring Placebo’s supply of the beverage has not yet run dry; beyond that wine bottle table is a window to the outside world. Through that gateway we see naught but clouds indicating that the Andorran is currently a passenger in the Illuminati’s airship headquarters.
Doc Placebo,
“Good evening; ladies, gentlemen, and all of you little Americans tuning in your television sets at home to see us perform at Exile to satiate your blood lust.”
Like a feline Erica rubs her head up against the leg of her master who responds by bringing his left hand down to caress her neck just under the ear. He samples the soft texture of her flesh, strands of her hair become intermingled with his fingers as he returns her affectionate gesture.
Erica,
“More?”
Doc Placebo,
“Hm?”
Doc Placebo,
“Oh… of course!”
Reaching for the wine bottle the Andorran wrestler grasps hold of the container and begins to pour the delectable fluids onto the Killer Title. The alcoholic drink splashes against its golden surface drenching the accolade completely. Droplets splash upward into the air landing about the Championship belt. A minority of those flying drops of alcohol land on Erica’s white dress staining its fibers and soaking onto her flesh under the veils of that article of clothing. She smiles in thanks and begins to reverently attend to the soaked title, her tongue lashing out with great speed lapping up as much as possible.
Doc Placebo,
“Now to the business at hand… Mr. Crippler… please, still you disappoint.”
Doc Placebo,
“I was willing to forgive your arrogance at expressing your child-like surprise at there being a Minion One, Two & Three. The mere surprise at this is of course an admission of ignorance to the fact you have not researched me as an opponent in the slightest... otherwise you would have known that I command a vast host of such creatures.”
Doc Placebo,
“However those three have been turned over to the Lost Light’s custody till I have use for them again.”
Doc Placebo,
“But ignorance of historical and present day fact aside I thought you would have at least the intellect to realize when you are being… goaded.”
NEW’s Champion Fatale takes a moment to acknowledge the work being done by his former Minion; Erica. Her efforts thus far have been remarkable. Using naught but her tongue she has managed to cleanse the title nearly clean of all traces of the wine that Placebo had splattered onto its surface just a few moments past. Acting like a lubricant the wine allowed her to slide that delicate instrument across the Killer Championship’s golden surface with expediency quite unexpected. Placebo empties the remainder of the wine bottles contents onto the championship. Spilling onto the title anew the wine quickly fills the many expensive golden grooves and ridges along its surface. Excess wine spills over the Killer’s surface and soaks into the Zeppelin’s carpeted floor; Erica continues.
Doc Placebo,
“How could you not see I was testing you?”
Doc Placebo,
“And how could you fail such a simplistically easy ruse?”
Doc Placebo,
“Of all my opponents this week you held the best hope for what might be considered a passable challenge here… but no.”
Doc Placebo,
“You actually went out of your way to correct me, did you really think I lack the ability to listen?”
Doc Placebo,
“But then… it is always good to know that I can get into your mind so easily. That’s a good sign for me, bad sign for you.”
Doc Placebo,
“I’ll bet your one of those people who starts talking back to their television when they hear something they do not agree with; so sad.”
Doc Placebo,
“But you’re right, you are a threat in that ring. A threat to yourself, you do suffer from greed. I see it eating you apart from the inside. You want this belt so much you open your televised spots with its image as if you are the champion and naught I even after I called you out on it.”
Doc Placebo,
“Still quite sad…”
Erica,
“Mmm! Tell them!”
Interrupting the Doctor’s rant Erica tugs on the Omega Sin’s black dress slacks. Glancing down at her as she kneels next to his title with her hand grasping at him he smiles. Her face is drenched in the liquid and with her free hand she quickly attempts to remove the remainder of the wine from her chin. Despite the fact this picture cracked his usual stoic appearance Placebo does nod in agreement and once more addresses an audience not present.
Doc Placebo,
“Yes… but since I cannot get a decent challenge at a pay per view I have decided to enact a few changes with the consent of NEW’s management.”
Erica,
“It’s just impossible, TPW was better than this.”
Erica,
“Too Tuff, not tough enough. Daye is barely holding onto his career. King Cobra… frightened into silence. And now this new Crippler lashes out against anything like a wounded animal. NEW needs something to fight for.”
Doc Placebo,
“Agreed.”
Now finished with the Killer Title. Its surface gleams with Erica’s saliva and its surface reflects the light emanating from the recessed lighting embedded in the ceiling above. Returning the championship to its rightful holder Erica cozies up next to her god, the Omega. She grasps onto one of his legs while the champion examines her work only to find not a single blemish upon the golden landscape of NEW gold.
Doc Placebo,
“And since competition here is lacking I have decided to enact desperate measures.”
Doc Placebo,
“If you want a shot at me, if ANYONE wants a shot at me… pin me!”
Doc Placebo,
“Just pin me, in a match, backstage, on the way to the show… after the show. Just pin me, and you get a title shot.”
Doc Placebo,
“So if you want this belt, now you can’t blame anyone…
…you have no excuse…
…just pin me…
…just fucking PIN ME.”
Tiring of this long winded and very one sided conversation the Killer Champion turns his attention back to the little decadent pixie at his feet and towards his championship which will be on the line tonight. Running his fingers across the belt’s glimmering surface with only a duo of fingers Placebo collects a pool of his Minioness’ spittle.
Doc Placebo,
“But please do remember… I won’t make it easy…”
No longer pooling his former Minion thrall’s saliva the Doctor using his fingers grasps hold of the elusive substance and examines it closely as it oozes between his fingers and makes its away down to the back of his hand. Offering it back towards its owner Erica eagerly takes those fingers within her mouth so as to reclaim what had been lost. The scene dissolves to black as the two personalities have finished their audience with those involved with NEW and have returned their attention back to themselves as the scene is lost in black.
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