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30; <Joe>
Topic Started: Jun 26 2018, 11:53 PM (23 Views)
Joe Stanton

>PLAY

The unmistakable sounds of gunfire and explosives ring out, slicing through an otherwise calm and humid jungle and all of the life inside of it. Cries of man and woman alike are heard, further punctuating the noises of violence. An eruption of fire torching so many trees is the first visual representation of this destruction that the audience is allowed to see proper rather than several smash cuts of violence and it's evident what is going on in this far away land.

War.

The the static and the poor tracking of the footage give the entire thing an ethereal quality to it, or more accurately a psychedelic feel. The very forest around these people is warping and turning colors as the camera goes into the heart of it, through the flames and into the darkness that dwells deeper into the jungle. It's here among the leaves and the animals, and who knows what else that something stirs within the shadows. Something moves and as it does so it becomes clear it is a man turning to face the camera, his face painted with camouflage and his attire is that of a soldier.

"War is in the heart of every man, woman, and child. It's in our nature. It's apart of who we are as a species. We are drawn to conflict like moths to the flame."

Joe speaks in a hushed tone, his words almost drowned out by the war zone around him.

"Some seek war for the glory. Some for the power winning can provide. Some do it out of an inherent fear of the enemy. And some..."

Closing his eyes, he lifts his head and tilts it back, taking in the noises around him. Savoring them.

"Some of us thrive in it. Wayward souls throughout time and history that only ever found their place when they were on the battlefield. Not necessarily for the glory or the riches and prizes but for the conflict. For us outliers it is about The Fight."

Spreading out his arms to the sides of him, Joe continues to speak in a hushed tone. A small, knowing smile.

"War is not glamorous, it is not good, it is not evil, war simply is. It is violent and uncaring who you are, what walk of life you come from, or what exactly you represent. War is uncompromising in its destruction. The heart of war is pure."

Waving a finger around, Stanton opens his eyes and lowers his head to look back down. He calmly educates the audience on war.

"The good die just as easily as the bad in War. It's killed or be killed. And for some lucky few when you're in the thick of things, when you feel that heat, you feel that pressure on your chest and you can hear your heart racing, there's a simplicity to it all. You. Or. Me."

The Scarlet Speedster's index fingers bounces between two points to further emphasize it's killed or be killed. His index finger jabs towards the camera filming him when he talks about being in the heat of battle. Pointing again to it when he talks of a "you" and pointing back to himself when he talks of himself.

"This...this is what four other men and myself will be locked into for thirty minutes. That may not sound like a lot of time to some of you out there but when the difference in you being alive or dead can be a second, thirty minutes is an eternity. It is eons. It is a lifetime."

Holding up four fingers, he adds a fifth when he includes himself in what's to come. He continues to smile, a knowing look in his green eyes peers out through the paint on his face when he talks about the match.

"It can be an eternal damnation."

Though his voice stays relatively quiet still his voice deepens when he says that, adding the illusion of him raising his voice.

"Barbed wire in place of ring ropes, ripping and tearing at flesh in an indiscreet fashion. Syringes that may or may not be filled, if not then oh what things could fill them, if they are...what horrors lay inside those syringes one can only imagine. Guitars rigged to explode, able to take more than some skin and some blood away, able to disfigure the human body if used correctly permanently. Ladders, scissors, light tubes, and a kiddy pool filled with rubbing alcohol, all dangerous in the hands of a dangerous man."

Joe glances down at his hands, inspecting them when he lists the weapons freely at use for all five of them.

"Normally a sane man may experience a slight tinge of fear at the thought of all these things being used against him to inflict pain on him. A rational man may feel a shiver creeping up his back at the thought that he has to survive thirty minutes inside a monstrous structure like the one we're being caged in. He may be considering a career change is in order. Or, at least pondering if perhaps a lighter promotion may be willing to accept bookings."

He holds up his index finger & thumb not far apart to emphasize the sensation a sane man may feel. He waves dismissively at how a rational man may be feeling.

"Yet as the days tick down and I look at the names, at the men that I'll be standing across the ring from, the tools we've been given, the time we've been granted...I find myself smiling at the thought of it. Like a child on Christmas Eve with visions of Candy Canes and Sugar Plums running through their head, I have had visions of barbed wire and exploding guitars running through my own at night! I can see all of the things that these men will put me through and I imagine everything I will give back to them in kind, and there's a twinkle in my eye."

Lowering his head, Joe obscures his expression initially when describing how he's feeling about the upcoming match. It's with a somewhat trembling voice he explains what's been his reaction. It's as he talks of his dreams he lifts his head back up, smiling for the camera with indeed a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"They say War is hell."

Stanton says with some confusion seeping into his features and tone. He pauses, looking at the camera dead in the eyes with a slightly unnerving look to his green eyes.

"I say it's what you make it."

STOP
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