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Doctor Louis D'Ville · **01-02-2017, 10:27 PM**

000

WHAT COLOR DOES A WHISTLE BLOW?

"You know, it's funny."

Doc looks up as he sits indian style on the floor in the center of his office.

"I've already had what you ALL are chasing after. What you're all searching for, reaching for, praying for, waaaaaiiiiting for. I've been there and done that, my friends."

The office isn't the normal cozy setting that we've all came so accustomed to. It's completely trashed. Papers scattered about, the couch flipped to it's side, the drink table in shambles with liquor and such spilt about. The doctor's desk is scratched and beaten with paperwork a mile high. If you'd look closely enough, you'd see that each paper was torn and covered in scribbles.... Not just all of that, but the doctor's suit is tattered and torn, ripped and burnt, and covered in filth.

"But, of course, you all know that."

Doc takes a puff from a cigar and fills the room with smoke.

"Why else would some little doggy be scratching at my door....?"

Looking up to the ceiling and scratching his chin, the doctor ponders for a moment.

"What's funny is how the doctor has become some version of a 'measuring stick' around here lately. First, you had Dolly Waters popping off about the Tag Team Titles and having something to prove. Well, that-thurh- bit-her-square-in her little ass, didn't it? As much of a celebrity Luca is around here, that doesn't mean he's worth a fucking thread in a sock factory."

"Dolly found out the hard way. Ohhh. She found out. She also found out she can't measure up to Doctor SATAN!, let alone, the doctor himself whether she's holding hands with someone or not. Better luck next time, my dears. After that, of course, you had Thaddeus Duke. Another flame. Another little girl with a twat-mouth. This is really where the measuring stick was brought out, ladies and gentlemen, because, FINALLY, Little Dukey had a worthy adversary."

"A worthy adversary, indeed. I pulled out my measuring stick for that one, too, and proved that little doggies don't belong scratching at my door. So, Ronnie Cage, David Stone.... Bad Attitude..... You can take all this shit somewhere else, my friends. Your little trio along with Mister Moore came into this FINE federation with quite a chip on your shoulders in regards to what I and my tag team partner, Unknown Soldier, own. It's our property. It belongs to us."

"And that, of course, is the XWF Tag Team Championship."

"Tell me, what makes you fellows so big and bad, anyway? Is it your... Bad Attitudes? You've made it known that the three of you have worked together for quite some time, but that means absolutely ziltch around here. There's no place like the UNIVERSE you're in now. When you signed on that dotted line up in MILE HIGH TOWER with Mister Loverboy the world you know changed. You're not the tag team three-some of bad asses that you think you are. You're much, MUCH smaller than that. And before I go any further, let's just look at what's laid in front of us here."

"Doctor Louis D'Ville versus Ronnie Cage at Wednesday Warfare. IF Ronnie Cage lasts TWENTY MINUTES.... Bad Attitude gets a Tag Team Title shot. Now if THAT..............."

Doc pinches the air... He leaves only the tiniest of gaps between his index finger and thumb....

"....... If THAT doesn't make you feel THIS big.... Well, shit."

The doctor chuckles a bit and lowers his hand.

"You, my friend, are going to get what you wish out of this. Maybe not the title shot you wanted, but I know that's not all you had in mind here, is it? You're like Little Dukey and Dolly, sitting in a tree, wondering if someday they could be better than me. Well, newsflash if you missed it, they're not wondering anymore. Dolly might be. She may want a private session someday, which I'm more than for it, because knowing Dolly... Something or someone may have been holding her back in our last... But you won't have that excuse when I'm done with you, will you, Mister Cage? There's nothing stopping me this week from completely ripping you to shreds. IF YOU DO happen to make it past the twenty minute mark, it will probably be months before you and Mister Stone even have an opportunity to get your shot... with you being on the shelf and all... You'll need time to recover with the surgeries, rehabilitation, and what not... The works, you know... In fact, I could see Mister Loverboy seeking OTHER options in the mean time. Competition in the tag division is a bit scarce these days, but he's a smart boy, I'm sure he'll think of something to fill the need of a title defense. My keen hindsight is showing me that this whole thing kind of seems like a waste of time, but, like I danced around before, lately it appears I'm on the market to face anyone on the roster who so desires to be beaten. Which I'm always obliged. As you know, and if you don't, the doctor's doors are ALWAYS open, my friends. So, step right up, Mister Cage.... Bad Attitude... Step right up and witness, FIRST-HAND, the pain and suffering, destruction and despair, horror and bad endings that you've mistaken as a step ladder to greatness."

As the doctor takes one last puff of his cigar a faint beeping sound can be heard from across the room. Doc, unaware how long it's been going off during his preachings, rises to his feet and walks across the room to his desk. He shoves all of the nonsense papers aside and onto the floor and reveals a telephone under the mess. A little red light blinks by the dial pad three times with quiet, simultaneous beeps along with it. The doctor reaches down and pulls the receiver to his ear.

"Sir."

The doctor doesn't respond.

"You're going to want to see this."

Again, no response from the doctor.

"We've found your ticket, sir."

Doc smiles.

"You're going back."

He places the receiver back and turns around. In a flash, his office has changed back to the luxerious, cozy, and yet, a little creepy nook of a space. The doctor's suit, as well, as it is clean and stitched to perfection. He places his white derby hat upon his head and may as well have been skipping (tra-la-la) while exiting his office.

The elevator door opens and Doc steps into his command center. The large screen in the front of the large room is split into what seems like hundreds of small ones, each one unique showing what would a appear, a different part of the world. On the left is a long list down the side with a display that just looks like different galaxies. Beside it was a zoomed in, very enhanced, blown-up picture of Mother Earth.

Just to put this into a little better perspective, below that screen are one hundred different workstations, each occupied by it's own individual, shoved into tiny cubicles in 10x10 rows. The screen reached further on each side than the workstations and was as tall as a the high ceiling. The doc steps over to a railing and rests his hands upon it as he looks out across his busy bee hive. An older looking gentleman, decorated in medals and badges up and down the front of his uniform. He stands in attention before the good doctor and salutes him. Doc just smiles and nods.

"At ease, commander."

He relaxes and shares the rail with the doc.

"What's the situation."

"Follow me, sir."

The man turns about and walks slowly down the spiral steps to the ground level of the command center as Doc follows. The pass by eight or ten rows before the commander cuts down an aisle and approaches a young gentleman working at one of the stations. He's working and typing so fast there's litereally smoke rising from his fingertips. He notices the commander and good doctor waiting behind him and sits in awe for a moment. The commander snaps his fingers in his ear once to return him to reality and the young man shoots out of his chair and salutes.

"H--H... Good, good day, sirs!"

The doctor nods and the commander returns the salute. He stands nervously, as never once has he been so close to the boss. Unable to break eye-contact with the doc, he uses his hand to guide himself back into the small chair in front of the computer.

"This is #1000634, sir. He along with everyone within our ranks has been working dilligently to prepare for what's coming. Show us what you've discovered."

The commander demands and points to the screen. The young man begins typing what had to of been 300 words per minute. Several different screens pop-up displaying different pictures and reports.

"Ever since the last expedition came to a close, we've been hard at work to find ways for you to enter the upstairs without the need of a 'TREVOR'."

The doctor laughs.

"A 'TREVOR', you say?"

"Well, we had to give your situation a name..... So, why not reference Patient Zero?"

Doc smiles and leans in closer to the computer. #1000634 taps a couple more keys and a single picture pops up on the screen. The doctor squints at the picture and scratches his chin.

"What would that be?"

"That's the Necronomicon, sir. It's a mythical textbook of magic that's said to hold great power over the dead."

The young man hits a couple of more keys and the picture changes.

"In Sector 5E, United States, someone is having their own war, and their in search of the book for it's power."

Doc smiles at the picture.

"A witch."

"Yessir. She believes in the book's power and if you're able to pull the right strings, you can take advantage of the power she already wields. Doing so, we can bypass the wall that keeps you from just crossing over."

"Interesting."

"Yessir. You'll be able to keep this hidden by wandering eyes by keeping her in the dark, as well. We've planted evidence of the book's existence for one of her spies, and she's just getting word of the book now. She uses spells and potions to find her answers usually... Summons and such. I'm sure we'll be able to run some interference when she begins and allow you to steer her in the direction we need her to go."

Doc nods in approval.

"Well, I must say, that's a job well done, my friends. Thank God all of you old generals were sinners, hm? Without the need of an anchor, there's nothing stopping me from regaining my UNIVERSE now...."

"It won't be long, we've been doing preparations since we've made the discovery and she's moving fast. If you'll follow me, we'll show you the pod you'll be using to communicate with her."

"Gladly, Commander!"

The doc pulls a cigar from his inside pocket and bites down on it as he follows the commander back up the stairs from which they came and three more sets to reach the top. He's led into a control room that oversees the one hundred workstations and big screen. Several other men are working steadily in front of large panels and screens of their own, searching for other ways for the doctor to prevail in his mission.

"From here, you'll be able to see her and communicate with her. She won't see you, however, as I mentioned it's best to keep your identity a secret."

Doc presses his hands and face against the glass of the pod like a child at an aquarium. It's an 8x8 space with a single chair and a small monitor suspended down, perfectly placed so it's eye level for the doctor when he enters and sits down.

"The pod door will close and we'll be able to talk to you through this."

The commander hands Doc an earbud.

"The transmission will only last so long, so you'll have to get your point across before her silly spell wears off and your cover is blown. Are you ready, sir?"

The doctor stuffs the earbud in his ear before he smiles and nods at the commander. The pod door closes and Doc relaxes in the chair as the monitor lights up with static.

"Alright, sir."

The earbud speaks.

"Transmission begins in five."

Doc takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Four. Three. Two."

There's silence before the screen flicks from static to the beautiful, grinning face of the witch. Doc's eyes light up as he reaches out to her....

"Who seeks knowledge? Speak."

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