Post by nbk on Mar 28, 2011 18:38:48 GMT -5
Failure, it wasn’t something you were used to feeling, and the experience was not something you were enjoying as a ‘character building’ exercise. Over a week into your first position in your chosen career, and your employers were not impressed with you. Was it because you had missed some action in a shot due to a framing error? No. Was it because you misjudged the lighting during a promotional video? No. Were they displeased due to anything relating to operating a camera? No. The reason for this feeling of inadequacy, the underlying cause of this unusual predicament you find yourself in, was simply your inability to locate the Natural Born Killer.
You know it would be a bad move, and highly unprofessional to point out that your job was to point the camera at the subject, not find them. Each time you’ve been sent out on a NBK assignment, you have been given vague directions such as, ‘somewhere in the car park’, The UGWC Arena carpark has the capacity to hold up to 4,000 cars, and after a show is bustling with fans, yet when you return empty handed your superiors wonder why.
Maybe this was why every other member of the crew was so reluctant to take on an assignment with the Natural Born Killer, was it possible they concocted their ridiculous tales and rumours, because the man was unwilling to ever be found and shot on camera, making him a dead weight to any mans career? It made more sense than anything else you had imagined during your frequent, futile searches.
And to top it all off, it was raining, in LA. As the rain pounded down upon you, you considered this was just perfect, not only were you currently wandering around the backstreets of a questionable area of the city, carrying an incredibly expensive piece of recording equipment, with only a tall, weedy forty year old, sound guy watching your back, but you’re brand new trainers were getting soaked through. You felt your head swell, and the pressure of the ‘hunt’ and the harsh conditions in which you were undergoing it, were causing one hell of a headache.
You continued down your path, cursing this area for its lack of late night pharmacies and your own lack of preparation and more importantly Advil, and for some reason decide the best course of action would be to walk down a dark unlit alley. On retrospect this was an out of character move for yourself to make, the biggest risk you had taken in life, to this point, was going out for a few hours without sunscreen in April, but at the time it seemed the wisest way of avoiding the elements.
As you ventured down the alley, you soon realised that your sound guy had not agreed with your analysis of the situation and had remained on the well lit street behind, on the off chance your quarry stumbled past randomly. With your headache raging you venture on, stubbornly, into the relative darkness, knowing that your camera is equipped with state of the art night vision capabilities, if the worst were to happen at least you could record the incident for prosperity. As your mind starts to wander into some dark and paranoid realms, you notice a figure, only a few feet away from you, facing one of the walls. He wears a long trench coat, an old fashioned hat, and a strange mask with a Rorschach paint test image on the front. Either this neighbourhood is more underprivileged than you could ever imagine, or you had just found the Natural Born Killer. As the man turns and looks at you, it takes you a moment to remember to switch the camera on and begin filming, and not a second to soon, as NBK begins to speak, his voice deep, and rough, his words come out in dribs and drabs.
And you begin to shoot.
”Yes...Yes, we have an audience...not long...not long now...now let me speak...let me tell them who I am...Welcome...welcome...none of you know me...The Natural Born Killer is...what they call me...Who?...They.
Why does that matter....it’s a label...it tells you nothing...Phrixus Deimos...Kyle Tacker...Donovan Hastings...Jet Somers...Travis Pierce...Tyvola...CHRIS PETERSON...all...just words, syllables...letters....they reveal nothing...but...The Screams....The Screams....they tell me everything, all there is to know about the fragile realities they exist in...in the minds of the weak....the selfish....the arrogant...in every one of us...they came...they found me, many years ago...and they opened a new world to my eyes...and new horrors and pains....
YAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”[/b]
The Natural Born Killer lets out a primeval scream, and falls to his knee’s clutching his skull...
”They never cease....forever screaming....forever vying for the mind of the Killer...this is not a gift I possess...this is a curse...the only moments respite the Killer gets....is when The Screams can dance....when they can entangle with their kind....you see...The Killer did not enter Unified...Global...Wrestling....Coalition...out of a search for glory...there is no need to be loved...it was....on The Killers part...an act of...necessity...for The Screams...they only dance....when the Killer dances...it is only when The Killer...subjects his opponent to pain....or is subjected to it himself....that The Screams are empowered to dance...it is when your screams are brought to the surface....when The Killers blows drag them from within...then....and only then do The Screams fall silent in the mind of The Killer...
Finally...the chance has come....for the first time, in many....many...months...maybe years...for The Screams to dance once more...against the individual....known as Chris Peterson...and Chris...I can already sense you are so full of your own Screams...constantly reminding you of your Grandfathers mistreatment by...Donovan Hastings...The Screams that remind you, this is not how it should be...that remind you a good grandson protects his...Ancestors...and now....your Screams have started you on your own journey...facing the unknown newcomer....with a ridiculous name...but despite your own personal struggles with your Screams....The Killer is very different from you....he does not care about top nor bottom...justice or injustice...nor does the Killer concern himself with win loss records, nor titles...all the Killer cares about....is The Dance...come Synergy....The Killer has the opportunity to silence The Screams again...and maybe....just maybe...you will realise why, The Killer...is the Most Dangerous Rumour...You’ve Never Heard...”[/b]
The Natural Born Killer ceases to speak and just rocks on his knee's for a few moments, and with nothing more forthcoming you cease the recording.
At this point the clearly clinically insane subject of your assignment hauls himself to his feet, and stumbles off into the darkness. Rather than follow him and help him get the right professional help, you turn in your tracks, more concerned with getting some painkillers for your damn headache, but also with a sense of relief at finally getting this segment on film.
You know it would be a bad move, and highly unprofessional to point out that your job was to point the camera at the subject, not find them. Each time you’ve been sent out on a NBK assignment, you have been given vague directions such as, ‘somewhere in the car park’, The UGWC Arena carpark has the capacity to hold up to 4,000 cars, and after a show is bustling with fans, yet when you return empty handed your superiors wonder why.
Maybe this was why every other member of the crew was so reluctant to take on an assignment with the Natural Born Killer, was it possible they concocted their ridiculous tales and rumours, because the man was unwilling to ever be found and shot on camera, making him a dead weight to any mans career? It made more sense than anything else you had imagined during your frequent, futile searches.
And to top it all off, it was raining, in LA. As the rain pounded down upon you, you considered this was just perfect, not only were you currently wandering around the backstreets of a questionable area of the city, carrying an incredibly expensive piece of recording equipment, with only a tall, weedy forty year old, sound guy watching your back, but you’re brand new trainers were getting soaked through. You felt your head swell, and the pressure of the ‘hunt’ and the harsh conditions in which you were undergoing it, were causing one hell of a headache.
You continued down your path, cursing this area for its lack of late night pharmacies and your own lack of preparation and more importantly Advil, and for some reason decide the best course of action would be to walk down a dark unlit alley. On retrospect this was an out of character move for yourself to make, the biggest risk you had taken in life, to this point, was going out for a few hours without sunscreen in April, but at the time it seemed the wisest way of avoiding the elements.
As you ventured down the alley, you soon realised that your sound guy had not agreed with your analysis of the situation and had remained on the well lit street behind, on the off chance your quarry stumbled past randomly. With your headache raging you venture on, stubbornly, into the relative darkness, knowing that your camera is equipped with state of the art night vision capabilities, if the worst were to happen at least you could record the incident for prosperity. As your mind starts to wander into some dark and paranoid realms, you notice a figure, only a few feet away from you, facing one of the walls. He wears a long trench coat, an old fashioned hat, and a strange mask with a Rorschach paint test image on the front. Either this neighbourhood is more underprivileged than you could ever imagine, or you had just found the Natural Born Killer. As the man turns and looks at you, it takes you a moment to remember to switch the camera on and begin filming, and not a second to soon, as NBK begins to speak, his voice deep, and rough, his words come out in dribs and drabs.
And you begin to shoot.
”Yes...Yes, we have an audience...not long...not long now...now let me speak...let me tell them who I am...Welcome...welcome...none of you know me...The Natural Born Killer is...what they call me...Who?...They.
Why does that matter....it’s a label...it tells you nothing...Phrixus Deimos...Kyle Tacker...Donovan Hastings...Jet Somers...Travis Pierce...Tyvola...CHRIS PETERSON...all...just words, syllables...letters....they reveal nothing...but...The Screams....The Screams....they tell me everything, all there is to know about the fragile realities they exist in...in the minds of the weak....the selfish....the arrogant...in every one of us...they came...they found me, many years ago...and they opened a new world to my eyes...and new horrors and pains....
YAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”[/b]
The Natural Born Killer lets out a primeval scream, and falls to his knee’s clutching his skull...
”They never cease....forever screaming....forever vying for the mind of the Killer...this is not a gift I possess...this is a curse...the only moments respite the Killer gets....is when The Screams can dance....when they can entangle with their kind....you see...The Killer did not enter Unified...Global...Wrestling....Coalition...out of a search for glory...there is no need to be loved...it was....on The Killers part...an act of...necessity...for The Screams...they only dance....when the Killer dances...it is only when The Killer...subjects his opponent to pain....or is subjected to it himself....that The Screams are empowered to dance...it is when your screams are brought to the surface....when The Killers blows drag them from within...then....and only then do The Screams fall silent in the mind of The Killer...
Finally...the chance has come....for the first time, in many....many...months...maybe years...for The Screams to dance once more...against the individual....known as Chris Peterson...and Chris...I can already sense you are so full of your own Screams...constantly reminding you of your Grandfathers mistreatment by...Donovan Hastings...The Screams that remind you, this is not how it should be...that remind you a good grandson protects his...Ancestors...and now....your Screams have started you on your own journey...facing the unknown newcomer....with a ridiculous name...but despite your own personal struggles with your Screams....The Killer is very different from you....he does not care about top nor bottom...justice or injustice...nor does the Killer concern himself with win loss records, nor titles...all the Killer cares about....is The Dance...come Synergy....The Killer has the opportunity to silence The Screams again...and maybe....just maybe...you will realise why, The Killer...is the Most Dangerous Rumour...You’ve Never Heard...”[/b]
The Natural Born Killer ceases to speak and just rocks on his knee's for a few moments, and with nothing more forthcoming you cease the recording.
At this point the clearly clinically insane subject of your assignment hauls himself to his feet, and stumbles off into the darkness. Rather than follow him and help him get the right professional help, you turn in your tracks, more concerned with getting some painkillers for your damn headache, but also with a sense of relief at finally getting this segment on film.
