"I'm not afraid of death. It's the stake one takes in order to play the game of life."
― Jean Giraudoux

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Take two and call me in the morning . . .

The detective rubs his eyes open after splashing a couple palms of water to them. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, then throws a handful of water across his head and slicks his hair back. After a couple deep breathes, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small prescription bottle filled about a third of the way with tiny pills. He pours one out into his hand and throws it in the back of his throat, gulps it down, then chases it with water by putting his mouth under the faucet.

The prescription was given to him due to anxiety, sleep, and what not. It was recommended by his doctor that he might consider narcotics in order to stay sane. A very low dosage at most, of course. It's important for him to keep his focus, as well. The sleep deprivation was all cured by one of his old dear friends, drink. But, those days were far behind him and he owed his sobriety his job at the least.

Truth is, though, the pills did the trick. He was cool as a cucumber. Slept long every night, but still felt extremely worn out throughout his days. The plan was to work at least some through the night, but it would be useless attempts at this point. He figures to rest now and hopefully get an early start tomorrow.

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"Okay, here we are."

The reporter throws her arm up in the air and nearly slaps the driver in the face. He slams his foot down on the brakes and it screeches to a halt.

"Could you be ANY less conspicuous?!"

"I knew were the place was. You didn't have to slap me in the face."

The reporter reaches out and slaps the driver in the head.

"Now, shut up."

"What are we doing here anyway?"

"I told you! I have a lead on that murder."

"Do you you even know what a lead is?! What lead?"

"I got some information, and they said more information would be in the house."

"The police looked in the house. Did you go to them with this?"

"Are you crazy?! You seen what happened last time."

"Yeah, you were dragged off--"

"The whole world seen it you prick. You filmed it remember?"

"Ha. Right."

"...."

The reporter doesn't finish what she thought of saying aloud. Instead she reaches into her small purse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and starts to smoke.

"You're smoking NOW? Shouldn't we be investigating?"

"Just give me a minute, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

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Finally.

A familiar sight.

As hot as it's been lately in this part of the world, the Doctor's fireplace continues to roar on the far side of the room as it always has. Bookshelves which seem fifty feet tall and loaded with books line the walls.

The Doctor sits behind his large wooden desk, with his face buried in his work, as always. The little girl sits facing the wall, bouncing a ball in perfect succession, over and over again. The Doctor looks up from his work and a large smile stretches across his face.

Hello, my friends!

He throws the pen from his hand spins around to his drinking stand. After a few seconds he concocks a drink and spins back around once again. After gulping it all down he places the glass nicely on his desk and rises out of his chair.

It's me again . . .

Your dear friend. Your doctor. Your King. Your Universal Champion. Doctor Louis D'Ville.

It's been a long road. A very long road, friends. I've noticed across this fine federation that PERHAPS some of my credentials could be a bit questionable. A few of my talents. My abilities. Nearly everyone I've faced claimed there was some kind of incident or discrepancy that lead to my victory.

How absurd is this?

Just because everyone decides to stick their noses in my sessions, doesn't mean the Doctor condones it.

Austin Fernando, for example. Here's a fellow using his one match against the top dog around here now to his defense. You almost beat me, you say? Well, it's too bad almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. I'm glad you still look back to our session from time to time now, Mister Fernando. It shows that I truly made a breakthrough with you in the short time we spent together. You're welcome, my friend. And I hope your reference of the Doctor and your near-win scares off whatever opposition you have this week. Good luck.

The Doctor marches out around his desk and lights a a big cigar that he pulled from inside his jacket.

That reminds me. Not only have all of my victories been tainted... But it seems that none of my selected opponents are even worthy of a Universal Title shot. Gator had his rematch and lost. Loverboy had his match and lost. Mister Harrison barely exists.

Ha.

Oh, he exists, my friends.

This is another case of more of you giving your ridiculous two cents where it is completely unwanted. These men were chosen as my opponents for a reason. Whether we've had a thousand matches, one, or none, why should that matter? If it's THAT big a deal, what has anyone done recently to even come close to proving they have what it takes? Hm?

You all make it sound like I'm not trying around here. Like.. I'm hiding. If I haven't said it a million times, I'd be lying. My doors are always open, my friends. Your reputation, your bank, your health, no matter. Stop in anytime for a session.

The Doctor sighs for a moment.

I see Mister Loverboy is still deep in his slumber.

I do hope you wake up, my friend, it would be the biggest shame if you were absent from this event. Maybe this was all just some trick from the general manager to get the Doctor's hopes up, is all.

Now, I know you and I haven't exactly had the a history like you and the other boys. Mister Harrison and yourself have had countless battles and Gator began his career even closer to the time you began yours. The two of you walked away with titles after last year's Relentless. Of course, you know that.

Gator went on to become what the XWF has recognized as the greatest Television Champion of all time. The title remained with Jacob for nearly the rest of the time it was active. Your Trios Titles? Well, after the circus that you put on with them they eventually ended up with the Kings and taken out of normal defenses.

Ups and downs, am I right, Loverboy?

You were a shooting star from the time you entered the XWF. You were soaring and now look at you. That star that I admired in the sky for so long is gone. I didn't even see it blink. Not even fade away. It was just gone one day.

A megastar. A role-model. A Hart Champion. The face and representing champion of Monday Madness, dwindled down into nothing more than a barely breathing sack of bones. Tell me, Mister Loverboy, was it the Universal Championship that ruined your attitude? That killed your smile? That Hart Championship just didn't seem like much after having a shot at something so much more.

So, here we are again. Only instead of sitting on top of the world like you once were, you're barely hanging onto life. Do you know what's going on in there, Mister Loverboy? Is there anyone home? Surely you do. Whatever spell you're under right now, I doubt it's keeping you from knowing that the most important event of your life is only days away. You've always been a fighter. A champion at heart. That's why that other title was just so fitting for you. The world loved to see their Loverboy week in and week out come out on top. All of those children and ladies. All cheering at the top of their lungs and chanting your name. That's another thing you could add to the list of things that separate us, Mister Lane. There aren't too many people in the crowd out their to chant the Doctor's name. My loyal followers sit in awe and respect. The love they share for me is not like the love they share for you. While your a hero, a role-model, and a sex symbol, I am the Higher Power. The masses look at me as not a hero, more of a savior. And due to my dominance, some may refer to me as a tyrant. Or a monster. But, I don't think it would be fair to go quite that far. I have after all, been a very fair King, have I not?

A tyrant. You know, if anyone has made me feel like one of those it has been you, gentlemen. As much as I am a target in this match and as much as you all demand so much to end my reign, just think about one thing.

How many of you have gave me your all? How many of you have used every last thing you've had and still failed?

Well?

All of you.

You've all come to me and said the same thing.

It's your time.

My time is over, is it? Well, I'm still waiting, friends. Just to be clear though, even if I lose once and am no longer the Universal Champion, that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere. I'll still be here and I'm sure I'll still be beating all of you. You're all the same. Just a tally across my sword.

Mister Loverboy, as many sessions as you and I have had I'm sure you know quite a bit about the Doctor. You've seen many sides of him as well. But you surely couldn't have seen everything about the Doctor. Even if you did, I was there too, my friend. What makes you think I don't know everything there is to know about 'Loverboy' Vinnie Lane? After all, I'm the reason you're trying so hard. I'm the reason you're in the position you're in right now. I'm the reason your thriving for the hunt. That's right, you too fall into that same category with everyone else, Loverboy. I've set the bar around here and, you know, maybe you are the only one that can reach that bar. You did manage to do something that only one other person in my history here has been able to do. And you did it at Bad Medicine. But, it just wasn't enough was it? Just wasn't enough. And it never will be. I don't know what makes you think that I've gotten any worse since then Mister Lane. I'm still the reigning, defending, monster that you've grown to love. You beloved King of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. And just like that Xtreme Title, I'm going to be the Universal Champion until I decide I no longer want it. Bad Medicine wasn't that long ago, I know you've slept through most of it, but I'm not done yet, my friend. Apparently there's still several gentlemen around here that are not convinced that I belong where I am. So maybe the Doctor still has some convincing to do. I'd be happy to. And it starts with you, Jacob, and Mister Harrison. Three gentlemen that have spent that last year picking this place apart along with myself. Three men who's names will never be forgotten.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor is cut off by the voice of the little girl across the room. She holds her little ball in her hands and continues to stare at the wall in from of her.

Clementine, my dear.

The Doctor smiles and peers over to her.

How can I be of service?

"Who were those people?"

Never you mind, dearest. I think it'd be best we get going, don't you? Can't keep you cramped up in this office the entire time, now could we?

The little girl doesn't respond and just slowly rises up to her feet. She leaves the ball at her feet as it quickly deflates across the floor.

Allow me.

The Doctor presses open the door and allows the little girl into a hallway.

First door on the right. I'm right behind you, deary.

The Doctor slams the door to his office shut and in a blink the little girl is standing in the middle of a paved road. She stares forward into a pair of headlights while listening to the repeated beeping of a vehicles horn before leaping out of the way into the grass.

She rises up off the ground, dusts herself off, then the only think she thought to do was walk the road.

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The reporter slips through the police tape and past the back door that was still left ajar from the break-in. She looks back at the man following her outside carrying a small camcorder.

"You coming or what?!"

"I really don't think this is a good idea..."

"Grow a set of balls and come on!"

He takes a gulp and slips through the tape and into the house. He holds the camera out in front of the two of them, using it as a source of light for the dark house.

"Place doesn't look like a murder scene, at all."

"I think it happened upstairs."

Together, the two creep through the house and make their way up the steps.

"What do you expect to find here again?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are we here?!"

The reporter sighs and looks over at her cameraman.

"Look, the other night, some creep-o in a mask came to my condo."

"Your condo? Mask?!"

"YES. My condo."

"Wait! Some dude in a mask came to your place? What did he want?"

"He wanted me to continue my story on the murder."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would he care who covers the story?"

"I don't know!"

"So, you're taking advice from some masked stranger that appeared in your apartment one night."

The reporter ignores him as he continues his whining. She reaches the second floor before him and cuts back towards the bedroom.

"Can you smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"I don't know... Sulphur?"

The bedroom door slowly begins to creak open and an eery red glow seeps out from the opening.

"Do you see that?"

"Uh, yeah? What the fuck is it? Are you filiming?"

"Yeah."

He's filming, but the signal on the camera is getting weaker every step they take. Static slowly begins to take over the screen until it's barely visible.

"What the fuck? Damn thing!"

"Oh, don't tell me!"

"I can't help it! I don't know what's going on with it."

The reporter pulls her cellphone from her pocket it.

"Ouch!"

The cellphone drops to the ground and shatters to pieces like glass.

"What happened?!"

"It.. was REALLY hot. I couldn't hold it."

A slight sense of fear begins to overcome the two of them as they notice the heat radiating from the room. They take each others hand and slowly approach the room.

The reporter reaches out and pushes the door open revealing a large open office.

"This doesn't look like a bedroom."

SLAM ! !

Before they realized they even entered the room, the large wooden door slams shut behind them.

Hello, my friends!

A voice echoes through the room and the two nearly jump out of their skin.

"H-Hello?"

The reporter whispers, but her voice still carries through the long room. At one side of the room is a roaring fire, snapping and crackling, reaching out from the fireplace across the room at the guests.

Welcome!

"Who's there?"

A small ball rolls across the floor and stops on the cameraman's foot. It begins to swell and rise into the air as if it's filling with helium. He watches it as it levitates in front of his face until it pops and blasts him with a red paste.

He spits it from his mouth and does what he can to shriek out in pain.

"What the fuck! Owe! God, what is this?!"

The reporter says nothing and takes a couple of steps back. She begins to tremble as she watches him fall to his knees and sob in agony. She looks up in time to see a very small silhouette standing across the room in front of the fire.

"Hello?!"

"Have you seen my ball?"

The little girl takes a step forward into the light. Her face is so very pale and looks rotted from a constant salty trail of tears. The reporter looks on confused for a moment and actually shut out the screams from her friend. She gulps and takes a few steps forward.

"Little girl? Wha-- What are you doing here?"

"Have you seen my ball?"

"Honey, whats your name? Where is your family?"

The little girl lets out a quick sigh and sits cross legged onto the floor.

"What's going on?! Who's there?!"

Still ignored, he manages to wipe enough of the red liquid from his face to get a visual.

"Who is that?"

"Honey? Hello?"

The little girl looks up and smiles at the two frightened individuals.

"Hi. I'm Clementine."

"Clementine? That's a very pretty name. My name is --"

"Have you seen my ball?"

"Honey, we haven't seen your ball. Listen, why don't you come with us?"

The reporter slowly approaches the little girl and holds out her hand. From out of nowhere, a dog rushes out from behind the desk and latches onto her arm. It growls and pulls at the skin on her forearm as she shreiks out in pain. The camera man picks up the small camcorder from the ground where he dropped it and whips it at the dog's head. It let's go of the reporter's arm and runs back under the desk. He runs to the reporter's aid and grabs her blood covered arm.

"Are you okay?!"

"Do I fucking look okay?!"

She shrieks at him.

"Where the fuck did that come from?"

"Calm down. Calm down. Let's just get out of here."

He tries his best to pull the reporter to her feet as carefully as he could. She cries a bit from the pain as she holds the deepest wound as tightly as she can with one hand. As she gets to her feet, they both turn around to run out of the exit, but the door is gone. It's as if the room reversed itself and now they stand staring into the huge fireplace they were watching from across the room a second ago.

"Oh, what the fuck is this?!"

The little girl walks over and picks up the small camcorder and admires it for a moment. The cameraman rushes over to her and kneels down.

"We HAVE to get out of here!"

The little girl smiles and then shrieks so loud that it shook the room and shattered a couple of the liquor bottles. She then jumps into the air and slam dunks the camcorder down the cameraman's throat where it stays lodged there. He falls backwards as his grabs his throat which is nearly twice the width it once was. He panics and struggles for air as the reporter shrieks behind him. He flops around on the ground like a fish for a few moments before he stops and his eyes roll into the back of his head.

The reporter notices that the room did indeed reverse itself and she makes a b-line for the door on the opposite end of the room. The little girl watches her run past and giggles a bit. Once the reporter reaches the door, she grabs the doorknob with her damaged limb and pulls it open. While looking back at her fallen friend, she sees the little girl hovering over his body while the fire from the fireplace slowly begins to crawl across the floor and consumes the room. As the door slams shut, the flames pull back into the fireplace and a small red ball bounces out from the blaze. The little girl smiles and plants her butt to the floor, then begins to bounce the ball against the wall to catch it again in her hands.

After the reporter rushed out of the doorway she falls flat on her face. She looks around a moment and realizes she's not in the hallway, not even the house. She's lying on the roof to the house, just below the bedroom window. The steep roof and loss of feeling in her one hand made it difficult to keep a good grip, so she slid down and fell off of that roof onto the ground. With a whimper, she crawls out of some brush and to her feet. The cameraman's vehicle is still parked in front of the house along the side of the road. She rushes over to it now with a very bad limp. She feels very lucky that her leg isn't broken as she gimps across the lawn to the vehicle. She opens the driver's side door and climbs in.

No keys.

"Oh... no...."

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