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I Am The Enemy; And You Will Never Tell Why.
Topic Started: Jan 15 2011, 11:53 PM (37 Views)
Hell's Overseer
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Our scene opens up in what seems to be a decrepit prison cell block. The environment casts off a dark variety of blues on the camera, with grimy cell bars and columns with faded cell block numbers.

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The camera continues down the prison walls, with occasional quick cuts of barb-wired fences and empty, decrepit cells. It then stops at a particular cell, located in C Block.

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The cameraman is slightly put off by the deafening silence of the old hallways. Grime, rust, and various other sorts of ick align the walls and cover the cell bars. We then hear a loud moan, before a pipe just beside the cameraman bursts and lets out a gust of odd colored steam.

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He begins coughing, and turns to leave the prison block to escape the forthcoming horrors, but is closed off from the exit as the block entrance gate slams shut. We then hear a soft chuckle echo through the hallways, each second getting closer and closer. The cameraman tries to run up the adjacent steps to the guard's tower, but is suddenly grabbed by a hand from the darkness.

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He is thrown right into a cell, where he lands softly on a ratty bed. The camera is still miraculously centered, where in the picture we see Dmitri Kalashnikov walk in. He is dressed in a black pullover hoody and jeans matted with red and maroon stains. His shoes are tattered Nike's, with an odd black substance encrusted on them. The cameraman makes a quick up and down shot of Dmitri's clothing, before he begins to speak.

"I want to let something be known to the many and many plebes in the RCWF, just who I am. When all of you came along, I was either in jail, or just then getting out. I see many of you wear your banners of pride high, all without merit or justification. Because you think you are better, because you act like you are better, immediately make you better than me. Wearing loud outfits, living eccentric lifestyles, whoring yourselves out to general society for the betterment of yourselves makes you better than me? I think not."

Dmitri gets up and walks over to the barred window, looking out of it longingly.

"Three months. Three months of hell I have been through, wondering every day when I would die or become someone's intimate plaything. My only consolation for the latter, would ironically be the former. Never had I anticipated or even thought of escape, or even release. I've been through hell, having to fight for my life, as the guards stood idly by, not doing a damned thing but bet on my fate. I remember all of them, jeering as I nearly died from an attack by 5 different men. Every bit of me died that day, save only for my soul and my mind. I felt no compassion, no mercy. My own wife tells me about my ailing son, and I feel no remorse in hanging up as she drones on and on about his cough or his constant headaches. I thought that, as I was being escorted out of my cell and into the free world once again, I would finally be free."

Dmitri quickly turns his head and stares straight into the camera, a mixed look of anger and despair across his face.

"Then I realized too late I could never be free. Every day I was haunted with the events of those three damned months. Try as I could, every moment in those days I flashed back to in normal situations. I could not sleep, could not eat, or even take a shower without wanting to break down."

Dmitri slowly scuttles back to the closed cell bars. He leans with his back against the bars, looking at the ground.

"It was only then did I know what I had to do. Ignore it all. Ignore the pain caused then by ignoring the pain caused now. Expect everything to beset upon me, without gaining a thing in return. Detach myself from reality and emotion, to avoid the inevitable and unavoidable. Everything is possible when you believe nothing is possible, I believe. No one man has greater worth unless they believe that is true. No man is better than me if they think the opposite is true. My world is nothing more that twisted double standards made to justify my actions in the most obtuse way possible, and nothing is more frightening than a world in which you can never win."

He walks back over to the bed and sits down, leaning forward on his knees. Staring into the camera with intent eyes, he speaks softly and slowly.

"What I am saying is simply this: If you ever step up to me, you will be fighting nothing more than a goddamned animal. A rabid dog with no boundaries, no morals. If I have to break a neck to win, so be it. No man, no woman is safe from my ire. I don't want revenge, I don't want justice for wrongful imprisonment, I don't want reparations for my lost sanity. All I want to do is destroy every little thing in everyone. I want to bring them down to my level, even if it means cutting off their fucking legs to do so. I want to show them that they are only humans, oily skinned mammals with false morals and indignant judgement, their ulterior motives being to spread their demon seed to continue the injustice. When they reach my point of self realization, they will have already lost. To me, it is no more about belts or prestige to my name. It is about bringing the RCWF to understand my plight."

Dmitri slowly slides the bars open, before looking back at the cameraman.

"Surely...YOU understand, eh?"

Suddenly, Dmitri slams the cell cage door shut, where it locks completely. The cameraman drops the camera on the bed and reaches for the bars, shaking them and calling out for Dmitri to take him out. Another quick cut shows the cameraman from the outside of the cell. As he screams, it pans down to the padlock. Engraved in blood are the numbers 395.
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