Post by nbk on Oct 15, 2011 18:40:06 GMT -5
Something was clearly awry with the world, the normal rules had been flipped on their head, it was an utterly strange and unnatural feeling. Things were going right for a change. Battleground had been a resounding success, many people calling it the best yet, and much of that was down to your fine work on the night, even one of the commentators noted your skill live on air. So not only were you improving the product, as always, but finally there was recognition for it. Recognition that the entire viewing population were privy to. True, it wasn't their respect you were after, neither was it Nicholas Vinegar or Hans Lieberjosch's, but it was the only respect you'd ever received.
But this staggering response to the Main Event you were solely responsible for was not the most amazing thing of recent weeks. Nor was it the, long overdue in your eyes, promotion you'd been given, placing you head and shoulders to the side and up a bit from your peers. Despite you're personal amazement that anyone in this company could see out of their own assholes long enough to recognise actual talent when they saw it. These steroid addled acrobats would look almost incapable if it wasn't for your intense framing and instinct for the best possible shot. Not even the surprise that this person was none other than Moss Edwards, could eclipse the true wonder of the revelation that had come to the forefront in your mind of recent. And that was quite a feat, given how little confidence you'd have in Edwards to tie his own shoelaces.
The truth was, you barely heard a word Moss Edwards was saying, your mind was elsewhere, you understood he was showing appreciation for what you were doing to drag this company out of the cinematographic stone age, but it wasn't as if he could tell you anything you didn't know already. You muttered some pleasantries to keep his sheltered ego calm, but you were not concentrating on him. Even if you had really wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to, the force of your discovery was too strong...
You were in love.
And you were surprised, shocked, scared and joyous all at once, your mind could not stop racing, you thought of her at all times, the goddess that had entered your life and shed new meaning on everything. You wanted to take her, and provide her with the home she craved, or the life she dreamt of. You would reach up to the stars and sprinkle them over her pillow if that is what she wanted. Her fantasy and desire would be your focus, you would deliver it all to her, you would be her hero, her White Knight.
Only weeks ago you had taken some ill-advised steps after being coerced by someone who claimed to be a 'friend', and had humiliated yourself in the search for a compatible match. Yet, withing days of this abject failure you had met her, seen her for the first time. She was there, at battleground, and she was like you, a diamond in this shit heap. She was too good for this ridiculous profession, she was gracing these fools with her presence, yet just as you had been for months, she was overlooked. Few people noticed her, yet everyone listened to her, however nobody ever thanked her. She was intelligent, and kind, and courageous you could tell all these things from her.
And you knew she felt the same way.
You had been in the room with her, and you could tell she was going through all the emotions you were. She had been on edge constantly in your presence, everything her so called superior said seemed to snap her out of a similar daydream. It was clear she also felt the connection you both shared, she too could feel the heavy pull of destiny.
You had been thinking about her as you made your way to the meeting you had called to set some ground rules, and had almost walked straight into the very opposite feeling as the one she gives you.
So you set up the camera.
And it rolls.
The Natural Born Killer is just stood in the middle of the hallway, his mask with the blotchy symbol of Rudo sprawled across it protecting us from his gaze. He begins to speak.
We have displeased him, yet he says not why. Loyalty should not only be measured...by the passing of time, it should be judged on intensity of the devotion that is displayed. Whilst the others...have sprung to action only in defence, only upon order...we, WE fight for his honour at every moment. Our very existence is given unto him, our victories are in his name. We have bought him shame...we are aware of this, but we have always...shown the desire to continue his advancement.
Yet we were overlooked...and despite the fact we know we must show faith in Our Lord's judgement...and decisions, it is hard. Yet what is faith, if we do not examine it...it should always be tested. Why would he take them into the greatest dance of all...why would he force us to watch on in anguish....the Screams were at their worst as we saw his favourites get to experience...such bountiful prey. He must have known...their services in such an environment would have been incomparable to that of The Killer...The Passengers would have feasted aplenty inside that structure....and Our Lord must have known this...yet he does not tell us why?
Maybe he tests us...this is a test of our strength, and we must admit...it is difficult, our very nature does not favour being toyed with...yet if this is The Prince examining our faith we must stay strong...for he can only have a greater prize awaiting us, to have forced us to endure the pain of watching a dance for the ages unravel in front of our very eyes...nothing short of illumination, enlightenment, the cure to our malady...nothing less than our utter salvation would be an adequate reward for such cruelty.
So we have faith, that Our Lord will finally bestow upon us that which he promises, that which we have placed ourselves into his servitude for. And whilst we await his delivery, we shall continue to dance, to stop the pain that grows greater despite our faith. We shall continue, from despatching the one known as Fear, we shall gain our revenge upon The Jester for the disappointing climax to our dance. He cheapened our last encounter, by ending it befotre it truly began. We only got a sense of the screams that live within his head, those that wish for him to be taken seriously, yet at the same time appeal to him to do a tribute to another disturbed individual in the middle of the biggest test of his career to date.
And we shall, distract ourselves from Our Lords test of faith, by delivering him yet another victory, as The Jester's foolish screams walk him directly into our path. And The jester will truly known...The Natural Born Killer...Is Not The Most Forgiving Rumour You've Never Heard.[/b]
Ad with that he shuffles off down the corridor.
And The Camera stops rolling.
Her name is Hope Paulson. And you will[/b] be together.
But this staggering response to the Main Event you were solely responsible for was not the most amazing thing of recent weeks. Nor was it the, long overdue in your eyes, promotion you'd been given, placing you head and shoulders to the side and up a bit from your peers. Despite you're personal amazement that anyone in this company could see out of their own assholes long enough to recognise actual talent when they saw it. These steroid addled acrobats would look almost incapable if it wasn't for your intense framing and instinct for the best possible shot. Not even the surprise that this person was none other than Moss Edwards, could eclipse the true wonder of the revelation that had come to the forefront in your mind of recent. And that was quite a feat, given how little confidence you'd have in Edwards to tie his own shoelaces.
The truth was, you barely heard a word Moss Edwards was saying, your mind was elsewhere, you understood he was showing appreciation for what you were doing to drag this company out of the cinematographic stone age, but it wasn't as if he could tell you anything you didn't know already. You muttered some pleasantries to keep his sheltered ego calm, but you were not concentrating on him. Even if you had really wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to, the force of your discovery was too strong...
You were in love.
And you were surprised, shocked, scared and joyous all at once, your mind could not stop racing, you thought of her at all times, the goddess that had entered your life and shed new meaning on everything. You wanted to take her, and provide her with the home she craved, or the life she dreamt of. You would reach up to the stars and sprinkle them over her pillow if that is what she wanted. Her fantasy and desire would be your focus, you would deliver it all to her, you would be her hero, her White Knight.
Only weeks ago you had taken some ill-advised steps after being coerced by someone who claimed to be a 'friend', and had humiliated yourself in the search for a compatible match. Yet, withing days of this abject failure you had met her, seen her for the first time. She was there, at battleground, and she was like you, a diamond in this shit heap. She was too good for this ridiculous profession, she was gracing these fools with her presence, yet just as you had been for months, she was overlooked. Few people noticed her, yet everyone listened to her, however nobody ever thanked her. She was intelligent, and kind, and courageous you could tell all these things from her.
And you knew she felt the same way.
You had been in the room with her, and you could tell she was going through all the emotions you were. She had been on edge constantly in your presence, everything her so called superior said seemed to snap her out of a similar daydream. It was clear she also felt the connection you both shared, she too could feel the heavy pull of destiny.
You had been thinking about her as you made your way to the meeting you had called to set some ground rules, and had almost walked straight into the very opposite feeling as the one she gives you.
So you set up the camera.
And it rolls.
The Natural Born Killer is just stood in the middle of the hallway, his mask with the blotchy symbol of Rudo sprawled across it protecting us from his gaze. He begins to speak.
We have displeased him, yet he says not why. Loyalty should not only be measured...by the passing of time, it should be judged on intensity of the devotion that is displayed. Whilst the others...have sprung to action only in defence, only upon order...we, WE fight for his honour at every moment. Our very existence is given unto him, our victories are in his name. We have bought him shame...we are aware of this, but we have always...shown the desire to continue his advancement.
Yet we were overlooked...and despite the fact we know we must show faith in Our Lord's judgement...and decisions, it is hard. Yet what is faith, if we do not examine it...it should always be tested. Why would he take them into the greatest dance of all...why would he force us to watch on in anguish....the Screams were at their worst as we saw his favourites get to experience...such bountiful prey. He must have known...their services in such an environment would have been incomparable to that of The Killer...The Passengers would have feasted aplenty inside that structure....and Our Lord must have known this...yet he does not tell us why?
Maybe he tests us...this is a test of our strength, and we must admit...it is difficult, our very nature does not favour being toyed with...yet if this is The Prince examining our faith we must stay strong...for he can only have a greater prize awaiting us, to have forced us to endure the pain of watching a dance for the ages unravel in front of our very eyes...nothing short of illumination, enlightenment, the cure to our malady...nothing less than our utter salvation would be an adequate reward for such cruelty.
So we have faith, that Our Lord will finally bestow upon us that which he promises, that which we have placed ourselves into his servitude for. And whilst we await his delivery, we shall continue to dance, to stop the pain that grows greater despite our faith. We shall continue, from despatching the one known as Fear, we shall gain our revenge upon The Jester for the disappointing climax to our dance. He cheapened our last encounter, by ending it befotre it truly began. We only got a sense of the screams that live within his head, those that wish for him to be taken seriously, yet at the same time appeal to him to do a tribute to another disturbed individual in the middle of the biggest test of his career to date.
And we shall, distract ourselves from Our Lords test of faith, by delivering him yet another victory, as The Jester's foolish screams walk him directly into our path. And The jester will truly known...The Natural Born Killer...Is Not The Most Forgiving Rumour You've Never Heard.[/b]
Ad with that he shuffles off down the corridor.
And The Camera stops rolling.
Her name is Hope Paulson. And you will[/b] be together.
