Post by nbk on May 11, 2011 19:09:17 GMT -5
It had been a night you would never forget, an evening that would remain in your minds eye for an eternity. When you joined this company you could have never expected, or anticipated such a rich canvas for your particular artwork. When Harvey explained to you that No Holds Barred wasn't just any Pay-Per-View but it was UGWC's 'Gimmick' PPV, you had expected just that, a gimmicky, tacky and clichéd event. You were wrong.
Flames, blood, pain, regret, so many different inspirations for you to let your skill show. Sure, some people may have suggested it was an over the top, blood thirsty affair, but you were amazed with the performers capacity to endure such varying levels of abuse and agony. True, having seen some of them attempt to speak it wasn't that surprising a skill, they had to be good at something, and getting beat on requires less studying than a degree in cinematography.
Still you could appreciate the lengths these guys went for the sole purpose of entertaining the fans, you're back and neck had been killing you as you captured some of the most breathtaking shots of the show, you had caught Hastings' stunning transition from a small package into The Hands of Fate, you had a stunning view of NBK's surprise attack on Medos and Tacker, you were positioned perfectly for JK's super kick to Ezekiel, and you had managed to get a sweet close up of Travis Pierce taking an unprotected baseball bat strike from Tyvola. Despite your own pain, you too had done your part, and delivered some truly iconic images that would stand the test of time.
And just like the performers, you had really needed the week off that had followed. You leisurely made your way back to San Antonio, managing to avoid sharing a truck with Sean for the return journey, and had spent most of the week getting various massages to ease your muscles.
However all that tension immediately returned the moment you walked up to the assignment board and saw that you were still assigned to The Natural Born Killer. You had been positive that your work a week ago would have earned you a more high profile shoot, but instead you'd have to put up with the incomprehensible ramblings of a lunatic.
You scooped up your camera and left, striding through the arena cursing your luck and the short sightedness of the company, any fool could see you should be making UGWC's top stars look even better, instead of trying to make something out of some gutter dwelling schizophrenic. As yous tride down the hall, you realise this week might not be a bust after all. Ou set up your camera, and begin to shoot.
Because, for once, NBK appears before you inside the arena. He stands leaning against a vending machine, just staring into space, his head occasionally twitching, before he lets out a cry that echoes around the corridor.
The Invitations have been sent out early...the venue has been booked...the entertainment is being arranged as...we speak...the place cards have been set...and they are all excited, each and every one of them...are clawing at my skull...in anticipation of the...greatest dance we have ever been involved in.[/b]
The Natural Born killer grabs at his skull and lets out a high pitched scream.
Why couldn't it wait? They....they are not patient, they will not wait to waltz...they have been promised an evening...of unprecedented pleasure...having had to watch...from the sidelines the last...having only the briefest of moments...to dance. It is not in their make up to be patient...what they have seen and experienced...has left them devoid of the emotional reflexes required for long term perseverance...
All they want to know is...why? Why must they wait, why has this...enticing entanglement been dangled in front of their eyes...and they want it...NOW. I wish...someone else could try to explain to them all...the reasoning, the logic...the way things work, but any time The Killer comes close to convincing one...another raises a new complaint, and it begins again!
NBK breathes heavily whilst he hold his head in his hands.
Even the promise...of a brief distraction this week...requires their will to be tolerant...as they will have to share...the dance partners with another...I cannot comprehend any way to adequately attempt to explain to them that very concept...to share. They fight with one another for my attention....they fight over the torment of our prey...to coexist they have no understanding of this...even I am disposable to them...
Add to that....they are being asked to share with...Kyle Tacker...a man who's inner rage must surely now, be aimed at himself. He had jumped, with haste and willingness, onto the bandwagon that dismissed Medos as an unworthy...competitor...and has twice fell to him in battle. Surely he questions himself now...his weakness...would hold the attention of the Screams for seconds...before they would disregard him as...unsubstantial fare. Yet...The Killer must struggle with them....to co-operate with him...despite their disdain...
If they do...maybe a more desirable partner could be found...Enigma has suffered at the hands of those...that he once held dearest...a man as close as family...used him to elevate his own stature...and that of his new companion. This betrayal...must surely make him doubt his own self worth...his former friend scales new heights...as he continues to exist on a lesser plane. Has he been left behind, with the likes of me! This fear...alongside the fresh memory of...burning flesh...could provide a fertile ground for dance partners.[/b].
The Natural Born Killer begins to nod enthusiastically as if agreeing with a number of opinions that have been aired to only himself.
Yes, yes, I have not forgotten him...how could The Killer ignore the blossoming of a whole new set of anxieties that have flourished in front of his very eyes...if The Killer were to forget about him...based upon initial observations alone, we could potentially miss the growth of a dance partner with true merit. Medos has entered a new...and unfamiliar world over the weeks that we have been able to perceive his nature and his inner anguish...from a hopeless wretch layered in self doubt and pity...into one struggling to come to terms with his own success...outwardly he may profess to being ready, to being comfortable in his new role...but he must ask, how long can he...with his history of underachievement and choking...maintain his position...and is he ready for whatever may lie ahead? His doubt...is still present...it merely takes a different form.
The Killer is more than aware...of what lies ahead for him...three weeks of torture, three weeks of incessant wailing...three weeks of the demanding and unending questions of the passengers...until we embrace the greatest dance of our existence so far. For us it is simple...this week merely a distraction...until we finally reach the destination we have been yearning for...Medos, Tacker...Cockatoo...Blake...Enigma....each of them sit in the fog of the unknown, uncertain of what WrestleStock will...mean for them. For The Killer...the answer is simple...so simple...[/b]
And with that the Natural Born Killer slams his head against the vending machine, causing a cold can of Mountain Dew to drop into the dispenser, before he stalks off.
And you end the shoot.
Well at least there are some perks to shooting the Killer, may the free soft drinks continue, you think as you thank the gods for such an easy start to the month.
Flames, blood, pain, regret, so many different inspirations for you to let your skill show. Sure, some people may have suggested it was an over the top, blood thirsty affair, but you were amazed with the performers capacity to endure such varying levels of abuse and agony. True, having seen some of them attempt to speak it wasn't that surprising a skill, they had to be good at something, and getting beat on requires less studying than a degree in cinematography.
Still you could appreciate the lengths these guys went for the sole purpose of entertaining the fans, you're back and neck had been killing you as you captured some of the most breathtaking shots of the show, you had caught Hastings' stunning transition from a small package into The Hands of Fate, you had a stunning view of NBK's surprise attack on Medos and Tacker, you were positioned perfectly for JK's super kick to Ezekiel, and you had managed to get a sweet close up of Travis Pierce taking an unprotected baseball bat strike from Tyvola. Despite your own pain, you too had done your part, and delivered some truly iconic images that would stand the test of time.
And just like the performers, you had really needed the week off that had followed. You leisurely made your way back to San Antonio, managing to avoid sharing a truck with Sean for the return journey, and had spent most of the week getting various massages to ease your muscles.
However all that tension immediately returned the moment you walked up to the assignment board and saw that you were still assigned to The Natural Born Killer. You had been positive that your work a week ago would have earned you a more high profile shoot, but instead you'd have to put up with the incomprehensible ramblings of a lunatic.
You scooped up your camera and left, striding through the arena cursing your luck and the short sightedness of the company, any fool could see you should be making UGWC's top stars look even better, instead of trying to make something out of some gutter dwelling schizophrenic. As yous tride down the hall, you realise this week might not be a bust after all. Ou set up your camera, and begin to shoot.
Because, for once, NBK appears before you inside the arena. He stands leaning against a vending machine, just staring into space, his head occasionally twitching, before he lets out a cry that echoes around the corridor.
The Invitations have been sent out early...the venue has been booked...the entertainment is being arranged as...we speak...the place cards have been set...and they are all excited, each and every one of them...are clawing at my skull...in anticipation of the...greatest dance we have ever been involved in.[/b]
The Natural Born killer grabs at his skull and lets out a high pitched scream.
Why couldn't it wait? They....they are not patient, they will not wait to waltz...they have been promised an evening...of unprecedented pleasure...having had to watch...from the sidelines the last...having only the briefest of moments...to dance. It is not in their make up to be patient...what they have seen and experienced...has left them devoid of the emotional reflexes required for long term perseverance...
All they want to know is...why? Why must they wait, why has this...enticing entanglement been dangled in front of their eyes...and they want it...NOW. I wish...someone else could try to explain to them all...the reasoning, the logic...the way things work, but any time The Killer comes close to convincing one...another raises a new complaint, and it begins again!
NBK breathes heavily whilst he hold his head in his hands.
Even the promise...of a brief distraction this week...requires their will to be tolerant...as they will have to share...the dance partners with another...I cannot comprehend any way to adequately attempt to explain to them that very concept...to share. They fight with one another for my attention....they fight over the torment of our prey...to coexist they have no understanding of this...even I am disposable to them...
Add to that....they are being asked to share with...Kyle Tacker...a man who's inner rage must surely now, be aimed at himself. He had jumped, with haste and willingness, onto the bandwagon that dismissed Medos as an unworthy...competitor...and has twice fell to him in battle. Surely he questions himself now...his weakness...would hold the attention of the Screams for seconds...before they would disregard him as...unsubstantial fare. Yet...The Killer must struggle with them....to co-operate with him...despite their disdain...
If they do...maybe a more desirable partner could be found...Enigma has suffered at the hands of those...that he once held dearest...a man as close as family...used him to elevate his own stature...and that of his new companion. This betrayal...must surely make him doubt his own self worth...his former friend scales new heights...as he continues to exist on a lesser plane. Has he been left behind, with the likes of me! This fear...alongside the fresh memory of...burning flesh...could provide a fertile ground for dance partners.[/b].
The Natural Born Killer begins to nod enthusiastically as if agreeing with a number of opinions that have been aired to only himself.
Yes, yes, I have not forgotten him...how could The Killer ignore the blossoming of a whole new set of anxieties that have flourished in front of his very eyes...if The Killer were to forget about him...based upon initial observations alone, we could potentially miss the growth of a dance partner with true merit. Medos has entered a new...and unfamiliar world over the weeks that we have been able to perceive his nature and his inner anguish...from a hopeless wretch layered in self doubt and pity...into one struggling to come to terms with his own success...outwardly he may profess to being ready, to being comfortable in his new role...but he must ask, how long can he...with his history of underachievement and choking...maintain his position...and is he ready for whatever may lie ahead? His doubt...is still present...it merely takes a different form.
The Killer is more than aware...of what lies ahead for him...three weeks of torture, three weeks of incessant wailing...three weeks of the demanding and unending questions of the passengers...until we embrace the greatest dance of our existence so far. For us it is simple...this week merely a distraction...until we finally reach the destination we have been yearning for...Medos, Tacker...Cockatoo...Blake...Enigma....each of them sit in the fog of the unknown, uncertain of what WrestleStock will...mean for them. For The Killer...the answer is simple...so simple...[/b]
And with that the Natural Born Killer slams his head against the vending machine, causing a cold can of Mountain Dew to drop into the dispenser, before he stalks off.
And you end the shoot.
Well at least there are some perks to shooting the Killer, may the free soft drinks continue, you think as you thank the gods for such an easy start to the month.
