Dillinger's blade sliced a quarter of an inch deep as he swiped it across Ellen's throat. It was a clean cut. Swift and to the point. Pun intended. Blood shot from the wound like paint from a spray canister, spritzing assistants, a couple sound guys, some of the camera crew and naturally, their cameras. The splatter hit the lens perfectly and if you were checking out the monitors at that precise second, you would have witnessed quite the scene. There are film masters that have been trying for years to achieve the very same effect that Dillinger accomplished on a whim. The perfect splatter. It was gone in an instant. Then came the screams as panic rose amongst the audience. It was a whirlwind of emotions that cycled around Dillinger, like an invisible tornado that he became the eye of as he released Ellen's body, allowing it to slump forward and eventually, drop to the floor. A crimson lake surrounding her stilling form and forever staining the carpet. Dillinger was bored now. So he left. Walking right through the frenzied sea of people, he passed several rent-a-cops but no actual police and exited the building as easily as he entered it. From there, he continued towards the parking lot, in order to retrieve his car but was suddenly halted when he felt a hand grasp onto his arm. Was it the real police... finally? Oh please, let it be the real police, Dillinger needed a good laugh. He turned and came face to face with Gretchen, who greeted him with a kiss; a hard yet passionate one at that, before she promptly dragged him off to her car and fucked his brains out. It was a raw, wild and intense act of pleasure that fit right in with the chaos of the day and when it was over, Dillinger definitely needed a cigarette. Which he fired up, right after he refastened his trousers and slumped breathlessly into the seat next to Gretchen.

"That was unexpected. Good but hella fuckin' unexpected."

"I told you, I was going to find a way to show you that I was a big fan."

She giggled and ran a hand back through her long, blond hair.

"Yeah, but I figured that woulda all went out the window when I iced your boss."

"What?"

"I slit Ellen's throat, in front of everyone and since you work for her, I figured you might find an issue with me doing that."

Gretchen reached over and plucked the cigarette from between Dillinger's lips and took a drag from it as he looked at her like she suddenly sprouted two heads. This of course, made her laugh as she tussled his hair and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"No ways. Why would I take exception to that? I told you, I'm a big fan of yours. I'm kind of already aware that you're a murderer. Besides, all you really did was give me the morning off, while they pull another Ellen out of deep freeze and thaw her out to finish taping the show."

"Huh?"

"There's more than one, Ellen. There's a whole factory of them. Portia De Rossi had her cloned after the first murder. Well, you wouldn't know about that... no one would, not unless you work for her but it happened and Portia had Ellen cloned because of it. The new one will be up and ready to get to work by lunch time. With absolutely no idea that she's a clone or that her predecessor was murdered; by you, this morning. An assistant will fill Ellen #12 in on what happened and explain that she was feeling light headed before her interview with you. From there that same assistant will claim that Ellen #12 passed out during the whole fake murder bit that you guys acted out. Then a fake doctor will come in and pretend to check Ellen #12 out, give her a clean bill of health and an okay to continue working, with some warning about her needing to rest more attached at the end of it all for good measure and that'll be that. In the meantime, the audience will be swooned with gifts and an expensive buffet as some studio executives hash out the story to them, explaining it was all a bit and that Ellen is fine and by the time they shuffle the audience back to their seats, Ellen #12 will be ready to entertain. No harm, no foul. Everyone's happy and the world of lies keeps turning. Que sera sera."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Not even in the slightest. Why do you think there wasn't any police? We have the audience turn in their phones before entering the sound stage and everyone else knows the deal."

"People reacted though. Convincingly."

"Yeah, well they get paid good money to do that. It has to seem real in order to make the people that aren't involved, think it's fake. Yes, it's a weird concept but it works. Trust me. I've been through a few of these. Jared Leto accidentally blew up an Ellen last week."

"So... did my agent know about this?"

"Not sure. If I had to guess though, she probably knew, agents usually know but I wouldn't hold me to that claim. Anyway, I'm bored. I think I'm going to blow off work, call in and tell them to add the fact that I wasn't feeling well and was off sick for the day because of it, to the list of false truths they have to sell to their clone. Maybe I'll get a nice 'Get Well Soon' basket of treats out of this. Do you want to take the day off with me? I've got a lot of fun meds back home, a huge comfy bed and I don't believe in safe words."

Dillinger thought for a moment and then stole back his cigarette before he stated with a smirk.

"Looks like I'm taking the day off too."

---

"Chris Chambers. Such an eager beaver. So dynamic. So spirited and enthusiastic. With eyes set straight at the top and the will to conquer whatever it takes to get there, you're ambition could move mountains or give you the strength to climb them. Unfortunately, you have to face me and while all the qualities I mentioned make you an impressive adversary, they won't help fuel you to victory over me. Or maybe they will. See, wins aren't that important for me. Neither are titles. Sure, the latter helps with luring individuals into my path but owning one is really more of an added bonus. Wielding it or not, changes nothing for me. Since I'm here for one thing and one thing only. To have fun. That's right, I'm here to enjoy myself. Now, how do you suppose I do that? Come on, this is an easy one, you should most assuredly know the answer by now. I do it, by laying waste to anyone that crosses my path. I fuck them up and cause them as much pain as humanly possible. That's it. That's all I care about. I thrive on suffering and your agony is my joy. The sounds of screams are an orchestra of delight and I find a deep satisfaction in dismantling the human body. Bit by bit. While that human is still alive, of course."

"I won't stop either. Once I start, it's like something pushes me and I'll keep going, no matter what. I don't really have a huge regard for safety and recently I discovered that I can weather more damage than the average man, so I've been meaning to test that out. Lucky you, right? I mean, you pointed out that Gilmour pushed me to my limits yet here I stand, back to a hundred percent and that's gotta say something, right? It's not a common trait for that to occur but it happened and I'm ready to push shit even further this time. So you really should prepare yourself for that. Get all your affairs in order and line up a nice hospital to stay in, don't just go with the place the XWF sends you to. I heard it's not even a real hospital. It's Frodo's basement and he seems like the type that might go full on Kathy Bates in 'Misery' on a dude. So keep that in mind."

"Oh and understand this, I don't care if you think I can't hurt you, I know that I can and I will and in the end, it doesn't matter what you believe. Really, let that one sink in, Chris cause it's a vital lesson here. You can make wild accusations and claim anything you want about me and what I might do but in reality, none of that matters. All that counts is what will happen in that ring come Monday."