Dillinger sat in wait for his very first interview on a day time television show to begin. Hysterically enough, it was going to occur on Ellen DeGeneres' namesake program, "Ellen" and was scheduled to air, later on that day. The tapings for such shows were always conducted much earlier in the morning, for instance the time was currently 8am and if Dillinger didn't know that, there was a giant clock hanging from the wall, showcasing that crucial information for him. The focal point of his attention for the majority of the morning, Dillinger didn't want to be here but his agent, Isadora Redclaw felt it was a necessity. Getting his name out there and on the lips of the "every man" was part of being an entertainer and doing that required appearing on programs that were created specifically for that purpose. Sure, it was an early start and the process was annoying but in the end, the results would pay off. He just needed to suck it up and be patient. It would be over before he knew it. Dillinger sighed and wondered, how did he ever get conned into believing that malarkey. In truth, he had no interest in being famous, he was completely satisfied with never being recognized for the entire span of his career with the XWF, it was just a cover after all. However, the point of having a cover is playing up to the role and making it seem real, if this was part of it, then he really did need to suck it up and endure whatever came his way. He could always make things up to himself with a murder. A treat, for being so good and sitting through the circus, without incident or failure, on his part anyway. Dillinger shifted in his seat and eyed an attractive distraction from the giant clock, head his way.



"Hi, I'm Gretchen and I'm here to make sure you're mic'd up and ready to go for the interview. Did someone come by and attach your mic already?"

Dillinger glanced down at the black microphone piece, hidden in plain sight and attached to the placket of his black button down shirt and allowed a brief smile to accent his face.

"Yeah, I've been wired up already."

"Good."

Gretchen pulled a compact from her pocket and began using its puff to dab around on Dillinger's face. The act was brief and when she was done, an accomplished grin quickly flashed from ear to ear as she shoved the compact back into her pocket.

"Looks like you're ready to go. Just head through the door, to our right and that'll take you straight out on stage. I'm a big fan by the way."

"Really?"

"Oh... absolutely. Maybe after the interview I can show you exactly how big of a fan I am."

Well, that was subtle. Perhaps, good things, do come to those that wait. Dillinger smirked and rose from his chair.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

He sauntered past Gretchen and kept walking as he spoke.

"I'll see you after the interview."

With that, Dillinger passed through the door and emerged on stage as the crowd proceeded to bring down the roof in his honor, to which he took with quiet poise and dignity. Like he expected nothing else, despite the fact that he couldn't care less. Casting a show stopping grin to the audience, he continued onward to the plush chair that awaited him and took a seat as he switched his focus to Ellen.

"Dillinger D'Marco, everyone! Wow! I think if I end the show right here, it would be the high point of the season. Who knew an alleged murderer would be such a hit? Did you? Did you wake up one morning and say to yourself, I know how to get the attention I've been craving, I'll become a 'murderer'?"

Ellen emphasized her mock belief in Dillinger's murderer status, with really over exaggerated air quotes. So everyone could witness her honest take on that subject matter, without her saying a word. Meanwhile, Dillinger couldn't hold back his laughter, even if he tried. Which he didn't.

"Haha! Yeah, it went exactly like that. My whole life was decided over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a glass of orange juice."

A clever grin.

"I kid, of course. Things weren't altogether that simple but I've always had a distinct idea about how the future might go. I never included fame or fortune into the mix but it's a nice little bonus to have acquired that by merely doing what I enjoy."

"The things you enjoy, huh? You mean causing as much pain as humanly possible and murder, right? That's quite the list of life fulfillments you've got there, Dill. Tell me, do you have any hobbies that don't involve causing others incredible suffering?"

Ellen goaded.

"I like to paint."

"Well, that's nice. Unless it's attached to the whole murder aspect, like you paint pictures of the corpses after you arrange them in weird poses and put funny hats or outfits on them. For instance, you kill a fat guy, so you have to dress him up in a ballerina costume and position him on a tightrope. Cause if that were the case, I'd have to ask where you got your tightrope from? It's not that, is it?"

Naturally, she was laughing through all of that.

"No, it's a completely different hobby, that exists all on its own. I usually paint whatever pops into my head when my mood provokes the desire to create."

"Have you had that urge hit you as of late?"

"Not since I moved but I'm sure it will eventually."

"Whether it does or not, you'll be hitting the canvas sooner rather than later as far as wrestling goes though, isn't that correct?"

"I will, indeed."

"You're scheduled to compete in two matches, against two different men, who happen to share the name Chris. The first of which is Chris Chambers and the match is being held on a special Monday night edition of Savage Saturday Night. Mr. Chambers has released two promotional videos already, have you seen either of them yet?"

"Yeah, I managed to catch both of those videos."

"And what are your thoughts regarding all that?"

"Chris has really obvious tells when he's playing poker and if we were in a game, he'd lose."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it most certainly is... so. You see, I kill for sport, which means I notice people's quirks and ticks real easy, even when their subtle but that man was practically broadcasting his tells in flashing neon lights. One look at that big ol' grin and the entire table shoulda folded. Anyone who failed to do that, clearly failed at life and shouldn't have been playing cards in the first place. In short, they deserved to lose every dime. That last fucktard who called Chris' bet, should have beat the shit out of himself if he was going to make the effort to attack anyone but then again, the stupid are usually irrationally violent."

A big laugh from Ellen.

"Aren't you irrationally violent at times."

"Oh, I assure you, there's rational thought behind my violence. How else would I savor the flavor of it?"

Her laughter quieted a tad.

"I suppose you have a point there, as disturbing as it might be."

"How is it disturbing? I simply relish in the things that I enjoy. I accept myself and don't hide my true intentions, which can't be said for most. If anything, I'm merely an honest man who loves living life to the fullest. There's nothing disturbing about that, right?"

"No, when you put it that way, I guess there's not."

"There isn't another way to put it. Not if you want to remain truthful, there isn't. Anyways, back to Chambers, it's fortunate for him that, that self righteous bartender was right there to conveniently save him, when he needed to be saved the most. I suppose that's just the lord working in mysterious ways though. Too bad she got him drunk before she decided to let her true light shine through. Maybe it's just me but I bet if she didn't serve him liquor, he wouldn't have suffered the same fate. He wouldn't have been intoxicated and therefore, he wouldn't have been in such a shabby state when that asshole bombarded him and would've never wound up in the hospital because of it. But no, the bitch whines and complains, after he's three sheets to the wind, he stumbles out the door and gets attacked. Hey, but she made sure to give him water beforehand, so at least there's that on her list of good deeds done for the day. Good job lady, you're a godsend. Now go back to enabling the masses while you judge everyone but yourself."

"I'm sure she only wanted to help her friend and you know the saying, better late than never, at least she was there to save Chris."

"Hahahahaha! She sure was! Y'know, even if she gave him that last drink he ordered, he probably wouldn't have been attacked. See, one more drink would have turned into another and another and eventually, the evening would have extended well past the moron in wait's attention span. A dumbfuck like him wouldn't wait in the alley all night. Nah. He would've toddled off by then and Chris would've passed out and neither would cross paths again. At least not in a darkened alley. If you think about it... the whole disaster is really that cunt, Samantha's fault and as a gift to Chris, to honor our sacred bond in battle and showcase my respect to him as a fighter, I'll slit her fucking throat. No joke. I see her walking the halls, I'm slicing her neck open and leaving her there to bleed out. A plague like that pretending to be a savior, needs to be put down."

"Eh... that's kind of you but somehow, I don't think Chris will see you murdering his friend as any of that."

"What the fuck?!?! I don't see why the hell he wouldn't?!?! He almost died because of that whore. I'm doing him a service! I'm committing an act that he can't because he's shackled down with religion. He might be a hostage to his faith but I'm not a prisoner of any spiritual belief, so I might as well do him a solid. Y'know... before I destroy him in the ring. I'm a nice guy like that. With that bitch gone, he won't have to worry about her guilting him into having any more nightmares about heaven. Again, I'm not a religious man but I don't think the "big guy" in the clouds would send souls to hell in exchange for extended chances for the living. Negotiating the price of souls for a ticket to salvation doesn't seem like a sale he'd make. That would be bargaining and I don't think god bargains for spots in heaven. That just doesn't seem very holy. Like at all. And this is comin' from a guy who knows his sins. So that nonsense must've stemmed from Samantha and her pearls of wisdom. God damn, it's like everything traces back to that cum dumpster. I really will be doing a service... to humanity, by disposing of her. No one needs to experience the torment she brings."

Ellen looked a little nervous as she tugged on her shirt's collar.

"So this is a real plan, you're not bluffing here, you actually promise to cut her throat when you see her.?"

"Most assuredly. I can even give an example of how easy that act will be for me, if you'd like to participate in some 'interactive fun'?"

"Um..."

"Relax. Obviously this is all meant for entertainment. It can't be real. Right?"

"Right. Hahaha! Of course. I forgot for a moment, I guess I got lost in the act but this is all for show, you're not really a murderer... are you?"

"Nope."

Dillinger popped up from his seat and casually positioned himself behind Ellen's chair. Wide smile, plastered on his face and knife, now in hand, he placed his free hand on the side of her head and in the time it takes someone to blink, he slit her throat.

"I'm not really a murderer."