The scene opens to a heart wrenching vista to many throughout America. As silent observers we witness a pair of human beings, dressed in naught but tattered and otherwise damaged clothing fishing through the sullied and forgotten contents of a series of trashcans. Their hands are dirty and they have minute bits of rotting food speckling their arms. If we were indeed in their company rather than watching these goings on from a far through the use of electronic devices we can be certain that a number of our audience today would indeed be offended by their odor. It is so strong that the smell has encapsulated them like an all surrounding aura; their own noses can now smell no other scents as their own grotesquery has overpowered them from reaching the senses of these misfortunate.
Bum #1
“RARRRRRR!”
Taken aback by a feral howl originating from his compatriot in poverty the other bum ceases his rummaging and notices his neighbor has scrounged up half an eaten buffalo wing and has hastily began to consume it paying no heed to the vast quantity of ants who had already begun to devour this scrap of food already. The ants are consumed along with the buffalo remnant as the second bum’s hands begin to clinch into fists in prelude to war.
Intervening… a sound floats amongst the winds. The sound is carried by unknown means as it travels at the speed of its namesake. Our duo of poor listens.
Bum #1
“Grah?”
Questioningly the first Bum looks at the second as he speaks in what to us seems like incomprehensible gibberish. However, the second appears to have understood the nonsensical questioning and replies without thought.
Bum #2
“Grah.”
Although we cannot understand what is being communicated between these two destitute individuals we understand the nod of the second misfortunate’s head as an affirmation. Dropping the half devoured buffalo wing to the ground allowing what few ants had evaded being consumed the two seemingly homeless immediately begin to sprint towards an unknown destination. The camera follows and joins the two as they enter city streets and join several others who have also heard the music. Together they run, but not all run the same. Some hobble. Others run on all fours. Some run on a combination of both arms and legs intermitted while a sole creature rolls down a hill on his side as if he were a log. The scene dissolves to black and we are left with naught but the sound herding these creatures towards an unknown destination; a pair of violins.
“Don’t stop now!”
A voice pierces the dark.
“I’m not!”
A scene begins to elevate from the darkness as a new voice joins the other intertwining with the musical chords of the violins which are now continuously playing.
“But why this song?”
More pieces of the jigsaw are lain before our eyes and at last we are joined with the visage of Erica and Rebecca, a member of the Placebo Youth standing atop of the Doctor’s theater cathedral. An oddity worth mentioning is the fact that Erica is wearing the NEW Killer Championship belt. The two feminine figures are dressed warmly to combat the chill morning air but still light enough for the delicate movements required of them to perform this violin duet. Their audience is a rampaging horde of Minions approaching their position on street level. The phalanx of slaves moves to a tune of their own as each warped mind interprets the song differently according to their level of sanity.
Erica
“Simple, it’s because it is an easier song.”
Rebecca
“Maybe for you! Bach!?”
Erica
“SHH! Your messing up!”
Rebecca
“Ok Ok…. Anyways their already on their way… but hey, you’re messing up too!”
Erica
“Hrm… of course… I must have done this a million times already. Although the song is easy, Doc used subliminal messages to engrain this song in the Minion’s subconscious, but if the song were easy for just ANYONE…”
Rebecca
“Then the mistakes your making makes it harder for anyone could call the Minions…”
Erica
“Exactly… but anyways their on their way here…”
Glancing over the rooftop’s edge Erica still tirelessly playing a mistake ridden rendition of Bach’s second minuet while witnessing the minion army now filling the streets below. All slaves in thrall to the Omega Sin converge upon the Cathedral and begin to file into a side door of the structure. Some slaves are trampled but those are mostly just the ones trying to run on two feet and a hand all at once. Erica ceases her butchery of Bach and places her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder indicating to her to stop attempting to play Bach correctly.
Erica
“Let’s get down to meet Doc.”
Rebecca
“Yeah… Uh… Erica?”
Rebecca eyes the NEW Championship belt around Erica’s waist suspiciously. The Placebo Youth eyes the belt even more suspiciously when she realizes that the belt still has a mixture of dirt and dried blood from the match last week on its golden surface.
Erica
“Yeah?”
Rebecca
“Why are you wearing that title?”
Erica
“This? Oh Doc refuses to just yet… it’s a… tradition.”
Nodding Rebecca and Erica fade from our sight as the scene is once more removed from our vision and replaced with a third visage. Now our eyes are met with the image of Doc Placebo. Still dressed in his black satin robes from the night’s sleep the Doctor is standing within a modern control room. Behind him a large array of monitors on which are featuring the images of rampaging Minions all moving forward to one singular destination. Only one monitor centers on Erica and Rebecca, Placebo notes that they have ceased playing and are now on their way. In front of the Doctor one of those two way mirrors that you often see in cop movies when they do their inevitable “line-up” shot. Beyond that mirror is a large room much like a warehouse but without any wares to house as it is empty.
Doc Placebo
“Status?”
Placebo addresses one of his guards stationed at a computer console, as always they are armed and dressed in the same attire which we first saw them a few weeks prior; trench coats.
Guard
“Minions approaching in 15 seconds!”
Doc Placebo
“OPEN THE DOORS!”
Guard
“Doors opening!”
A series of doors open bringing forth a torrent of Minions into the immense no longer empty room. Erica and Rebecca still grasping their violins from their duet a mere set of moments ago. Rebecca grasps hers with disdain as she has yet to master the instrument’s intricacies. Erica still wears the belt across her waist as she moves to Placebo’s side. The room is filling to capacity with Minions.
Erica
“Doctor.”
Doc Placebo
“Erica….”
Doc Placebo
“Guard, keep a running count of the Minions till the room reaches 100% capacity.”
Guard
“Aye M’lord.”
Erica
“Doc don’t you think you should be preparing for tomorrow?”
Doc Placebo
“Hrm? Tomorrow?”
Erica
“Your title defense for this belt!”
Doc Placebo
“Oh yes, we’ll get to that, it’s just Too Tuff after all.”
Guard
“Sixty-Five percent capacity.”
Erica
“Just?”
Doc Placebo
“I am to be concerned about an opponent whose name is an alliteration? Oh please. It’s a joke if anything. Although I am quite happy to see that finally, at long last, someone in NEW has the determination to speak before me I am quite disappointed.”
Erica
“Whys that?”
Guard
“Eighty percent capacity.”
Doc Placebo
“Why? I swear I’ve heard all of that before. It’s nothing special, its like I’m just facing any pathetic sap out there.”
Doc Placebo
“I might as well be facing Hova, Donnie Downfall, or one of those Minions piling into that room. Each mindless automaton in there could have sent me that same message, except they’ve each suffered far greater than Tuff to become what they are. Maybe a few hours in our ‘care’ and Mr. Too will be singing a new tune, perhaps.”
Doc Placebo
“Look at me! I’ve been in all these other tough matches, it’s impossible to defeat me. No originality. Maybe Too Tuff’s writers were on strike or maybe it’s just even more pure repetition of historical fact skewed by an ego larger than Rosie O’Donnell.”
Guard
“NINTEY SEVEN PERCENT CAPACITY!”
Erica
“Still, most people are like that, hell, that stalker might have said something original.”
Although not ignoring that comment the Doctor does not acknowledge it as he turns his attention towards the now nearly completely filled room. Stepping forward the Andorran native grasps a lever and begins pulling down on the control. Inside the Minion infested room several hatches are opened and piles of dog food are released. Pouring over top of the Minions and burying some the crowd begins to feast upon piles of stored dog food jumping onto the piles. Some bury their heads into the first meal they have had in ages. Others blank expressions on their faces simply slack their jaws and allow food to fall into their mouths by the means of gravity.
Erica
“Anyways I’m getting off track… as I was saying you MUST prepare for your match.”
Doc Placebo
“And prepare I shall… but chances are no matter how ‘tough’ my opponent truly is I highly doubt he is tough enough to raise more than a fist against a God.”
Observing the feeding frenzy as Minion after Minion engorge themselves in a mixture of dry and wet dog food Placebo smiles as a thought crosses his mind. He turns to Erica and nods.
Doc Placebo
“You’re right though, we do have something to do… before I can wear… THAT.”
The NEW Killer Champion’s eyes fall to Erica’s waist and to his own championship belt which lies across her waist. Acknowledging the statement the Doctor and Erica depart the control room leaving Rebecca staring out of the trick mirror. Her eyes are locked on the savagery before her. The dog food has nearly been entirely consumed and Minions have begun to turn on each other. Teeth bore rend flesh, finger nails scratch, feet kick. The Doctor’s guards act fast and begin keying in commands to their computer terminals. Within the confines of the large room doors are locked and a green haze begins to load Minion lungs sending them to a fitful sleep. Their bellies full with dinner Rebecca watches as the scene comes to a close.
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