In the midst of all the foolishness going on in the arena with the current Infiltrate Champion his idiotic music comes to an abrupt conclusion, the “Sunslut Girls” and Shaniqua stop dancing like crack whores doing the Harlem Shake, and the crowd goes from being loud and rowdy to confused and silent. Who would have the audacity to be the one to interrupt the self proclaimed “European Sex God?” Who?
As the lights rain down with golden tinted rays a voice that could be heard nowhere and everywhere began to speak. The voice echoed in such a way that it could only be compared to the way Voldemort spoke to the masses in the final installation of the Harry Potter motion picture series. The voice commanded the attention and intrigue of all who could hear it.
“Surely you jest! This is a comedic act, correct? This isn’t to be taken SERIOUSLY, is it?”
The echo of laughter that ensued after this sentence was musical but in a someway psychotic nature. Not being able to see the individual who was speaking and having the voice seemingly all around them left the audience and the overrated champion and his talentless dancing squad of bimbos unsettled to say the least.
“You know NOTHING of what the true mean of sexuality or sensuality is or their power. Who is sexy? Certainly not you or these low class, filthy, vile, street walkers you have flaunting their used bodies and stretched orifices in front of this audience of mindless fools.
“You DARE call yourself CHAMPION!? You DARE care yourself a GOD!?” The outrage and anger in the voice was apparent and almost seemed to momentarily cause the very arena to tremble.
“You call yourself Gunther? I think so little of you that your will forever remain nameless in my mind. You bring shame and embarrassment to this organization, this business, and more importantly to the title around your waist. As for being “sexy” I take that as blasphemy for you speak to the TRUE God of Ecstasy, the TRUE Champion of Bliss, the ONE and ONLY Demigod of Desire. The mere sound of my voice has spawned more orgasms to females in this arena than all of their collective lovers in the last decade. If you doubt my proclamation take observation of the puddle of life juices beneath each of your dancing prostitutes.
I am sure you are wondering who I am. Know this, I am The Cure for the sickness this organization and this business has been plagued with. The sickness is called mediocrity. Waste of flesh like yourself will be the first to be sacrificed in during the Resurrection of the Golden Era of Enlightenment. Remember this night clown…this has been the closest you will ever get to true greatness of an epic scale beyond your comprehension.”
With that the lights return to normal and the sound of the laughter from before echoes throughout the arena leaving everyone in attendance unsure of what to make of it. The only thing that seems to be clear is the image of an unknown mask upon the massive screen above the stage.
