Post by Silas SUBHUMAN on Nov 6, 2016 22:12:32 GMT -5
Denver. Colorado
11.3.16
The forest was dark and foreboding. Praise to the blazing fire or it'd be no blacker in a coffin, six feet under and piled with dirt. the loam in the earth and the decomposing leaves made the atmosphere close and thick, and if there was a moon tonight, its silvery rays would not penetrate the dense canopy above this curious little plot.. And for as eerie as it was, there was an unmistakable peace in its sullen ambiance.
the campsite was bare. It was kept unusually primitive for the amount of time Silas and Spike Steel had been spending at the location since arriving in Denver. A few upturned mossy logs surrounded by a copious assortment of empty liquor bottles that had been carelessly strewn about the overgrowth.
Coming up behind the Black Light District members, they posture square to the flames. The chatter between the two softens, then fades out completely, as they've taken notice of the fast approaching Redemption Wrestling camera crew grunts. With his sweatshirt hood up, Silas turns his head, looking over his shoulder.
his breath visible in the chill November air, "Is this fire fucking insane or what?" he chuckled with his back to the camera. Silas admiring their handywork, points in Spike's general direction, beer can in hand. "It took me and Spike a minute.. But many drinks and stories later - we have this thing looking pretty fucking impressive, if I do say so myself! We initially ventured out here to take a break from the pageantry, and it turned out to be more of an extended stay. The avenues I take to hone my craft -- my process.. may be a little odd.. But, it's all good. I didn't sign with Redemption to chase status."
Si finally turns and faces the lens. He lowers his hood and steps in. His hair is beyond ruffled, the strands sticking together in the way they tend to do when a wash is overdue. In another time and place he could have been one of those coffee panting, 9-5, Men's Warehouse suit wearin' motherfuckers, but in the here and now - he's a microscopic step from vagrancy. untamable and unruly. He chose a different grind, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
He would opt against following the social conduct, and rage in defiance. Just as he had always done. Silas felt strongly that there was no justice for the creative, no safe haven for the weak ones. He used brutality as his most coveted expression. His way of tipping the balance.
"When they called me about this Jenson fight.. I couldn't hardly believe it. Wrestling isn't my base. My background lies mainly in unsanctioned bare-knuckle bouts in the Long Beach underground fight scene.. Very similar to what you would find in South Florida.. Jenson's a IPW Champion." Silas laughed as he staggers over to the blaze and crushes an empty, tossing it in.
They stood in awe of the great beast for a moment. Ashen debris drifting from the smoke aimlessly, sparks desperately reaching for the treetops. The darkness then pressed in on Spike from all sides as he dropped out of frame. Silas continued to watch and talk.
"You're a game opponent, Jenson, and I appreciate that about you - more than you can know.. And I can only speak for myself, but I think we all got a certain satisfaction from watching you dismantle that cockeyed bitch, Persephone. Look, I'm thirty-five years old.. I know this is a young man's game. I'm gonna do what I can to implement my game, and hope that provides you with a challenge you ain't accustom to dealing with.. Hopefully I can bring a degree of aggression to the table that you find refreshing? I'm gonna walk your ass down to the best of my ability.. Keep the pressure on til that final bell. Afterward? I'll be the first to buy you that beer that'll nurse ya. Til then, I think I'm just gonna sit here and watch these embers die.. until the wind blows cold once more."
Panning out - the close up is abandoned for a closing wide angle.
"Sunday on Glory there will be no faux solitude.. No need for a mask of docility.. And for all you parents out there, get your little shit-iots to bed. You'll thank me after. My Black Light brethren will be in action as well.. The Cody Cannibal in a four way and The German Virus in singles competition. Now, if you'll excuse us. We were in the middle of something.."
Topic unknown, the friends return to faintly conversing amongst themselves. The shot retreats even further. Silas shouts out..
"Macchiato, cappuccino?!? No Spike.. Those are words made up by the government to make us all feel inferior.. I thought you knew that.."
.::STATIC
11.3.16
The forest was dark and foreboding. Praise to the blazing fire or it'd be no blacker in a coffin, six feet under and piled with dirt. the loam in the earth and the decomposing leaves made the atmosphere close and thick, and if there was a moon tonight, its silvery rays would not penetrate the dense canopy above this curious little plot.. And for as eerie as it was, there was an unmistakable peace in its sullen ambiance.
the campsite was bare. It was kept unusually primitive for the amount of time Silas and Spike Steel had been spending at the location since arriving in Denver. A few upturned mossy logs surrounded by a copious assortment of empty liquor bottles that had been carelessly strewn about the overgrowth.
Coming up behind the Black Light District members, they posture square to the flames. The chatter between the two softens, then fades out completely, as they've taken notice of the fast approaching Redemption Wrestling camera crew grunts. With his sweatshirt hood up, Silas turns his head, looking over his shoulder.
his breath visible in the chill November air, "Is this fire fucking insane or what?" he chuckled with his back to the camera. Silas admiring their handywork, points in Spike's general direction, beer can in hand. "It took me and Spike a minute.. But many drinks and stories later - we have this thing looking pretty fucking impressive, if I do say so myself! We initially ventured out here to take a break from the pageantry, and it turned out to be more of an extended stay. The avenues I take to hone my craft -- my process.. may be a little odd.. But, it's all good. I didn't sign with Redemption to chase status."
Si finally turns and faces the lens. He lowers his hood and steps in. His hair is beyond ruffled, the strands sticking together in the way they tend to do when a wash is overdue. In another time and place he could have been one of those coffee panting, 9-5, Men's Warehouse suit wearin' motherfuckers, but in the here and now - he's a microscopic step from vagrancy. untamable and unruly. He chose a different grind, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
He would opt against following the social conduct, and rage in defiance. Just as he had always done. Silas felt strongly that there was no justice for the creative, no safe haven for the weak ones. He used brutality as his most coveted expression. His way of tipping the balance.
"When they called me about this Jenson fight.. I couldn't hardly believe it. Wrestling isn't my base. My background lies mainly in unsanctioned bare-knuckle bouts in the Long Beach underground fight scene.. Very similar to what you would find in South Florida.. Jenson's a IPW Champion." Silas laughed as he staggers over to the blaze and crushes an empty, tossing it in.
They stood in awe of the great beast for a moment. Ashen debris drifting from the smoke aimlessly, sparks desperately reaching for the treetops. The darkness then pressed in on Spike from all sides as he dropped out of frame. Silas continued to watch and talk.
"You're a game opponent, Jenson, and I appreciate that about you - more than you can know.. And I can only speak for myself, but I think we all got a certain satisfaction from watching you dismantle that cockeyed bitch, Persephone. Look, I'm thirty-five years old.. I know this is a young man's game. I'm gonna do what I can to implement my game, and hope that provides you with a challenge you ain't accustom to dealing with.. Hopefully I can bring a degree of aggression to the table that you find refreshing? I'm gonna walk your ass down to the best of my ability.. Keep the pressure on til that final bell. Afterward? I'll be the first to buy you that beer that'll nurse ya. Til then, I think I'm just gonna sit here and watch these embers die.. until the wind blows cold once more."
Panning out - the close up is abandoned for a closing wide angle.
"Sunday on Glory there will be no faux solitude.. No need for a mask of docility.. And for all you parents out there, get your little shit-iots to bed. You'll thank me after. My Black Light brethren will be in action as well.. The Cody Cannibal in a four way and The German Virus in singles competition. Now, if you'll excuse us. We were in the middle of something.."
Topic unknown, the friends return to faintly conversing amongst themselves. The shot retreats even further. Silas shouts out..
"Macchiato, cappuccino?!? No Spike.. Those are words made up by the government to make us all feel inferior.. I thought you knew that.."
.::STATIC
