The scene is brought into creation from the darkness. However it is not brought forth into the existence of bright light, it is in actuality brought forth into creation under the dim and finite luminance afforded by a large collection of candles, my candles. You, the NEW audience are witness to a panning image throughout the interior of the cathedral to my name, Omega. Lined with candles on each row of pews we are granted limited sight. The intricate details of the room’s interior architecture are not captured by our eyes and are instead remembered only through the long term memories of those who paid them heed the last time we set eyes to this holy place. In other words, not a damned one of you remember what this place looks like in the light.
ssssshhhhCRaCK!
Yeeaaarrgh!
The camera’s view which had been previously focusing on the balcony where we had last seen Erica and I populate this room quickly spins about 180 degrees in the direction of the altar. For those that care I am wearing my signature dress shirt and pants, white, the significance of the color is lost on you. The NEW Era Killer Championship belt is now displayed proper across my waist. I sit atop the altar to me, the Omega Sin, my feet dangle off the edge. My fallen Angel; dressed in black silk, Erica kneels on all fours next to me, she’s ready for what is to come, her eyes locked on the muscles in my whipping arm. One hand rests on her head, the other, on a whip. Its harsh leathery length is uncoiled and has just tasted the flesh of the individual shackled to a nearby pillar. Male or female you cannot determine, the figure is completely encased in a burlap sack and held steady to the doric style column by means of chain.
ssssssssssssssSSSSSHhhhh…
My whip flies.
ssssshhhhCRACK!
AAAAAAAAAAAArrrrrghhhaahhh….
My name is not quite known here. This place is still quite ‘NEW’. But truth be told not many people know of my name even after having attained status of celebrity. But now with the passing of Cosmos only one… or three…. Know my name. Natas, Nickolas Globe, and Nick Atlas, the three personalities encompassing the TriNatas mind are now the sole owner(s) of my name’s truth.
Erica
“May I?”
Erica’s voice is soft, a contrast to the screaming of the bound individual in the final death throes of their personality. Their will slowly being tempered into a malleable substance to which I can mold to my liking.
Doc Placebo
“Yes… take it all away.”
A simple question to which I nod. With permission granted Erica scoots forward ever so slightly. Her eyes lock on my Killer Championship. It’s a brazen name alright, the Killer Championship, not quite artistic but one filled with pop culture possibilities which I will have to explore at a later date. Right now my hand resting on her head is no longer appropriate and I withdraw it. She examines the belt, her eyes taking in its details and finish; she focuses on the dirt and the blood that has been allowed to sully by championship. With a practiced tongue she leans forward and begins to lick the belt clean.
crack!
Crack!!
CRACK!!!
My whip hand is stayed. As you saw none of those blows connected to the shackled individual, your eyes were on the whip. But mine were not; no I was examining the target I missed. I’m watching that poor wretch flinch and each bound muscle flex at the very sound of the whip flying through the air. My eyes light up like a Christmas tree as it jumps in its bonds trying fiercely for a freedom it will never attain. Erica is busy tending to some of my blood that was spilled onto the face of my title. With each delicate lap of her tongue a bit more of the life giving substance is removed and broken down by her saliva which is starting to coat the golden surface. It shines.
Doc Placebo
“These creatures.”
Doc Placebo
“Filled with so much self pity, loathing, hatred.”
Doc Placebo
“They come to me, seeking a release, seeking nothingness.”
Doc Placebo
“Often times I wonder if they would still come if they knew what kind of a future it was that they were making, but then, they would probably kill themselves.”
Doc Placebo
“That’s right, my little Minions, they are just as much a volunteer organization as the US Military. It’s free to sign up, but you’re fucked if you go AWOL.”
You can’t see the damage already wrought by my weapon, at least not this one anyways. The most obvious weapon of course is my will, the will that has broken this pathetic individual down to what it has become. A near mindless automaton is all that remains now. Thoughts of its prior life now scurry through dreams and rest only in the subconscious, this is now what I target; the final foothold of a prior life on this creature’s mind. Everything must go! FIRE SALE! Childhood, first kiss, breakfast before school, drivers license, nicknames, loved ones faces, imaginary friends, all must be replaced by stern obedience to my voice. And they me asked for it.
Doc Placebo
“I feel I must apologize to my opponent.”
Unflinching at the announcement of my apology which is forthcoming Erica continues to lick at my golden accolade about my waist. She has completed a great deal since I last paid her heed. Right now her tongue is delving into a little corner where a particular cluster of dirt and blood has created a stain on the gold tarnishing it. A thin strand of saliva has begin to trickle off of the belt and pool onto my dress pants.
Doc Placebo
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
Doc Placebo
“You cannot help who you are or what you have become, but because of what you are I simply cannot provide you the necessary attention you need as a worthy opponent.
Doc Placebo
“Simply put… you bore me… that’s more the fault of your parents and the upbringing forced upon you by the pressures of society during your youth.”
I run my fingers through her hair and samples its texture as I let the words flow through my mind prior to setting them loose on the world.
Doc Placebo
“You see, you’re quite like this little thing I have here. Not Erica of course, she’s serving her purpose cleaning my title of all reminders of those who touched my belt before me… no I mean this Minion-to-be here.”
Doc Placebo
“I mean… you seriously said you ‘can’t be stopped’?”
Doc Placebo
“In the words of my former Canadian tag partner Ten Minute Major…. ‘Eh?’.”
Doc Placebo
“You’re pathetic Mr. Too Tuff, just listening to you speak makes my brain hemorrhage, just saying your name makes me want to use Listerine.”
Doc Placebo
“Just end it, let it all go.”
wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
CRACK!
YEEEEeeii!
I lash out at this pathetic thing showcased in front of me. Looking at these things makes me sick. Watching them throw away their individuality so easily. Allowing themselves to give into the pressures of life without any regard of themselves as something important. It drives me to make them suffer here on my soil.
Doc Placebo
“I’m not asking you to become a Minion, just kill yourself. It’s easier that way and honestly I just wouldn’t want to have to listen to you talk as much as I would have to.”
Doc Placebo
“It’s almost selfish to have someone of your intellect hold onto those vital organs... I’m sure someone could use them after all, maybe they could be the next Mozart instead of you, a mentally handicapped Dave Coulier.”
Doc Placebo
“Whatever choice you make, Too Stupid, you will meet me at BloodZone.”
Doc Placebo
“Come feel my wrath.”
Doc Placebo
“And make a choice… Life… Minion… or Death.”
Doc Placebo
“Choose at Bloodzone, choose...”
Finishing her work Erica laps up the last remainder of blood which had hindered Placebo’s championship belt from shining as brightly as possible; now fully cleansed that title is now perfected and fit for the Omega Sin’s waist. The scene begins to fade as the Doctor plays a little more with the hair of his petite Minioness. His hand still commands the whip as the scene changes focus from the couple resting atop the holy altar dedicated to the Omega God and resettles on the shackled Minion in training still bonded to the Greek style column. The Minion, completely sealed in burlap cannot be seen but can still be heard. The damage brought on by the whip has taken its toll and a series of laments in the form of sobbing can be heard although barely audible. Placebo and Erica, no longer within our field of view, soak in the cries as if it were enjoying some up tempo Vivaldi as the scene fades to white and is ended.
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