Post by nbk on Sept 15, 2011 16:36:10 GMT -5
You were battered and bruised, every part of your body ached, each joint painful to move, every muscle tight and burning. You're head, well that felt like it'd been trodden on by a stampeding herd of horny elephants, their huge feet slamming into you're forehead, whilst their excited wangs slapped the side of your head as they passed. This was precisely the kind of reason you ensured you got yourself educated, you didn't enjoy getting beaten up. You had presumed that a good education would enable you to merely talk your way out of bad situations, like in the movies. You'd learnt as you'd grown older that this was not the case, and was in fact a quicker way towards getting your face rearranged. In response you had perfected a quick and relatively painless drop to foetal position manoeuvre. You'd spent many a night shivering in a gutter, but at least you had been relatively unharmed.
But apparently that wasn't allowed today. No today you had to train your mind to ignore every natural instinct you had, you weren't allowed to strive for self-preservation, fleeing was forbidden and you were forced to face pain head on. And this was all meant to be a good thing, or so they told you. The truth was more about business than team building. They insisted that this was to prepare you and the others for what you may face in the future, that this would be a set of skills transferable into your everyday life, that you couldn't pay for this kind of experience, they went as far as to suggest we were all ever so lucky to have this opportunity. You, however, knew it was some bullshit to do with Insurance, you knew this because it always was about insurance, plus you heard the eye-patched tyrant mention something about it to an intern earlier.
Despite the fact you were deeply bitter about the whole affair, you could accept that it was smart business sense on behalf of the insurance company. The Battleground PPV is just weeks away and, you'd heard, is the most violent single match in UGWC's year. Whilst the 'Entertainment Professionals' are covered for any injuries sustained, the crew are not. Their would be a number of cameramen inside the steel structure where the mayhem takes place, and that was a lawsuit just waiting to happen. You certainly wouldn't stay quiet if one of these deranged socio-paths inadvertently crippled you, so you accepted this made sense for all parties.
That wasn't what was grinding your gears right now, no what annoyed you most could be found easily in the title of the full day seminar you had just attended.
'Self Defence With Jet Somers'
Who on earth decided it would be a good idea to put one of the lions in charge of zoo keeper training? A woman beating, rail tie wielding, paint splattering, on the verge of a mental breakdown, cross-dressing lion at that? This made no earthly sense. If we weren't insured to get in the cage with these “superstars”, how on earth had they got the cover for us to spend a day locked inside a room with him hitting us? Over, and over again? Your sure that once, before the obvious insanity of this industry infected him by osmosis, he was entirely capable and trustworthy in charge of a group of novices. But that was before.
Before he joined forced with a man who's vocabulary seemed to be derived from trashy porn magazines, before he made the choice to blind side a defenceless woman with support in toe, before he turned his back on the principles that he had once held above everyone else without explanation, before he chose the easy path in life. Before, when you had filmed Jet Somers, you could see a fire, a determination in his eyes, before he was driven by the intensity of his beliefs, in the knowledge that he was honourable to his own truths, before when he was the guardian and ally of the meek and insufferable, UGWC's one true role model, he would probably have been the best self defence instructor in the world. Before he became a psychotic sadist that is.
If there was any doubt in your mind about his true intentions after his actions over the past couple of weeks, spending a day being beaten to a pulp by him had cleared your focus. Jet Somers was now a sick and twisted individual, something had snapped inside him and he has no way to gauge the boundaries he once followed with such discipline and valour. He was a broken man, and they tend to be the most dangerous. You knew this all to well, through experience.
And that experience as waiting for you at your car.
So you reached in the trunk and took out the camera and tripod.
And started to shoot.
The Natural Born Killer wasn't exactly waiting at the car, more one it. His knee's denting the roof as he stares toward the lense.
We fear that we have let our Lord Down...The Jester defeated The Killer and we fear this may cast us in a bad light with the Prince. His Highness was gracious enough to feed The Killer and his passengers one of the finest Dances we could hope for...he stepped aside and allowed us to experience a bliss we have been denied for so long. But we could not return his good grace with...the victory Our Lord deserved. We beg unto him...to still show us his grace, as we still serve for only him.
The Killer vows not to bring shame upon The Circle again...not to allow a cheap trick to defeat him once more...there was no honor in how our dance ended, The Screams remind of us how pitiful it was to succumb in such a manner. If only The Jester had acknowledged his own passengers and their needs...it could have been a glorious spectacle. Alas...no-one is to blame but ourselves...we were given one of the greatest gifts our Lord could bestow...and we failed to clasp the opportunity.
We must not fail again...our next dance gives us the chance to serve directly by Our Lord's side for the first time...to fight for his further glory and honor...to help him bring salvation to this dark and needless world...and we dance with one in so much torment. One who feels the pain....of many an incident her own screams may feast upon...a love so distant...many betrayals so real and close by...both sexual and physical...sometimes at the same time. She is Prey...The Screams can get their teeth into, a walking melting pot of anguish and self-hatred...
These very things...that entice The Screams so much....are the very same things that may hold us back from The Dance that could be. The Mistress is in distress...to the point where, despite what she may believe, it consumes her and defines her. The potential within her...will not be released...whilst she continues oblivious to her own fate. We...shall do our utmost to help Gabrielle...realise what lurks within...the truths she can unlock to her own advanatage....and we will hope she will then dance with us...as we envisage...
And once we have danced...we shall go on to serve His Highness...we shall act as his weapon in a cell of destruction....we shall meet the dark agony of many a mind....we shall dance with a delicatessen of treats...engorge ourselves on our prey....all in the name of Prince Rudo...for we exist only for him...
And with that, The Killer leaps from the car, and into the darkness.
And the camera stops shooting.
A broken man is always the most dangerous, you had hours of footage to back up that claim, and some pretty bad swelling, too.
But apparently that wasn't allowed today. No today you had to train your mind to ignore every natural instinct you had, you weren't allowed to strive for self-preservation, fleeing was forbidden and you were forced to face pain head on. And this was all meant to be a good thing, or so they told you. The truth was more about business than team building. They insisted that this was to prepare you and the others for what you may face in the future, that this would be a set of skills transferable into your everyday life, that you couldn't pay for this kind of experience, they went as far as to suggest we were all ever so lucky to have this opportunity. You, however, knew it was some bullshit to do with Insurance, you knew this because it always was about insurance, plus you heard the eye-patched tyrant mention something about it to an intern earlier.
Despite the fact you were deeply bitter about the whole affair, you could accept that it was smart business sense on behalf of the insurance company. The Battleground PPV is just weeks away and, you'd heard, is the most violent single match in UGWC's year. Whilst the 'Entertainment Professionals' are covered for any injuries sustained, the crew are not. Their would be a number of cameramen inside the steel structure where the mayhem takes place, and that was a lawsuit just waiting to happen. You certainly wouldn't stay quiet if one of these deranged socio-paths inadvertently crippled you, so you accepted this made sense for all parties.
That wasn't what was grinding your gears right now, no what annoyed you most could be found easily in the title of the full day seminar you had just attended.
'Self Defence With Jet Somers'
Who on earth decided it would be a good idea to put one of the lions in charge of zoo keeper training? A woman beating, rail tie wielding, paint splattering, on the verge of a mental breakdown, cross-dressing lion at that? This made no earthly sense. If we weren't insured to get in the cage with these “superstars”, how on earth had they got the cover for us to spend a day locked inside a room with him hitting us? Over, and over again? Your sure that once, before the obvious insanity of this industry infected him by osmosis, he was entirely capable and trustworthy in charge of a group of novices. But that was before.
Before he joined forced with a man who's vocabulary seemed to be derived from trashy porn magazines, before he made the choice to blind side a defenceless woman with support in toe, before he turned his back on the principles that he had once held above everyone else without explanation, before he chose the easy path in life. Before, when you had filmed Jet Somers, you could see a fire, a determination in his eyes, before he was driven by the intensity of his beliefs, in the knowledge that he was honourable to his own truths, before when he was the guardian and ally of the meek and insufferable, UGWC's one true role model, he would probably have been the best self defence instructor in the world. Before he became a psychotic sadist that is.
If there was any doubt in your mind about his true intentions after his actions over the past couple of weeks, spending a day being beaten to a pulp by him had cleared your focus. Jet Somers was now a sick and twisted individual, something had snapped inside him and he has no way to gauge the boundaries he once followed with such discipline and valour. He was a broken man, and they tend to be the most dangerous. You knew this all to well, through experience.
And that experience as waiting for you at your car.
So you reached in the trunk and took out the camera and tripod.
And started to shoot.
The Natural Born Killer wasn't exactly waiting at the car, more one it. His knee's denting the roof as he stares toward the lense.
We fear that we have let our Lord Down...The Jester defeated The Killer and we fear this may cast us in a bad light with the Prince. His Highness was gracious enough to feed The Killer and his passengers one of the finest Dances we could hope for...he stepped aside and allowed us to experience a bliss we have been denied for so long. But we could not return his good grace with...the victory Our Lord deserved. We beg unto him...to still show us his grace, as we still serve for only him.
The Killer vows not to bring shame upon The Circle again...not to allow a cheap trick to defeat him once more...there was no honor in how our dance ended, The Screams remind of us how pitiful it was to succumb in such a manner. If only The Jester had acknowledged his own passengers and their needs...it could have been a glorious spectacle. Alas...no-one is to blame but ourselves...we were given one of the greatest gifts our Lord could bestow...and we failed to clasp the opportunity.
We must not fail again...our next dance gives us the chance to serve directly by Our Lord's side for the first time...to fight for his further glory and honor...to help him bring salvation to this dark and needless world...and we dance with one in so much torment. One who feels the pain....of many an incident her own screams may feast upon...a love so distant...many betrayals so real and close by...both sexual and physical...sometimes at the same time. She is Prey...The Screams can get their teeth into, a walking melting pot of anguish and self-hatred...
These very things...that entice The Screams so much....are the very same things that may hold us back from The Dance that could be. The Mistress is in distress...to the point where, despite what she may believe, it consumes her and defines her. The potential within her...will not be released...whilst she continues oblivious to her own fate. We...shall do our utmost to help Gabrielle...realise what lurks within...the truths she can unlock to her own advanatage....and we will hope she will then dance with us...as we envisage...
And once we have danced...we shall go on to serve His Highness...we shall act as his weapon in a cell of destruction....we shall meet the dark agony of many a mind....we shall dance with a delicatessen of treats...engorge ourselves on our prey....all in the name of Prince Rudo...for we exist only for him...
And with that, The Killer leaps from the car, and into the darkness.
And the camera stops shooting.
A broken man is always the most dangerous, you had hours of footage to back up that claim, and some pretty bad swelling, too.
