Post by The Solomons on Dec 19, 2016 18:49:27 GMT -5
Rustic would be the best way to describe it. An old cabin. A wood burning stove. Lanterns, flickering, dangling from the ceiling. Lit candles upon the floor, the dresser, the table. The soft glows shift and sway as wind, howling, sweeps through the cracks in the ancient house--and with it, the shadows dance upon the walls. Looming. Taunting. Ever present. A woman sits upon the floor, long legs crossed tightly. Wild, raven hair spills from beneath a hood, her face consumed by the dark. Black fingernails draw attention to an old tome as she carefully turns the yellowing pages. The book's insides are decorated with arcane symbols and unsettling imagery. Diagrams. Sketches. Runes.
Though it sits just out of frame at first, as the camera pulls back more, a large cage comes into view. Its heavy iron construction is newer than anything else in the house, but it has seen its share of damage. The bars are bent and bruised, its massive lock just starting to chip away. The contents of the cage are left a mystery, its inner sanctum darkened by the poor lighting of the old house. As if noticing the viewer for the first time, the woman on the floor lifts her gaze. Her shoulders tighten, her back straightening... and she begins to speak, her raspy tone drowning in her thick southern accent.
"Y'all ever jus'... kick back, and think o' the good ol' days? My mama, she used to tell me an' my brother stories about... Santy Claus. An' the Easter Bunny, an' the boogey man, an' shit like that. Forces y'never see, creatures you cain't touch, operatin' at the hours between hours. Movin' between the ticks o' the clock. Slippin' in an' leavin' ya boons, but only when ya cain't see 'em." She breathes in deep, her back arching further. She slides her hands behind her, resting them against the wood floor, letting her arms support her weight.
"We got older, though, didn't we? We all get older, an' we all learn the truth. There is... forces like that. Things that operate jus' outta th' corner o' yer eye. Not things that go bump in the night, but things that never make a sound at all. Things you can't touch. Things you can't feel, but they're there. They're there, an' you only... ya only ever see the results. Y'only ever see the aftermath. Things like gravity, or time, or infrared. Things like mercy. Or justice. Or sanctity. Things you cain't hold in yer hand. Things ya cain't prove, things that... if you didn't know any better, you wouldn't even think they was real in the first place."
A slight tip of the head. She moves a pale hand to the edge of her hood, tugging it more firmly over her visage. "I've come to learn a very important lesson about these invisible forces... and it's that frankly, they don't care. They don't. They don't give a rat's ass about you, or me, or anybody. Gravity ain't gonna go outta its way fer you. Justice ain't gonna save you when you need it most. You get lucky, sometimes. Time heals wounds because that's what it does, not because it likes you. Gravity might kill yer jerk of an ex-boyfriend, but not as a favor to you. And whatever brought my brother back..."
Slinking. Shaking. Motion, subtle, in the darkness. From the depths of the cage a figure emerges, its large hands sinking thick digits around the old iron bars. It shakes the entire cage, nearly uprooting it from the floor. The woman slips a glance beyond one shoulder, staring back at the imprisoned monster. With the most nuanced shake of her head, she then drags her attention back to the camera.
"...Whatever brought my brother back didn't do it outta the kindness of its heart. That's what y'gotta understand, m'friends. Me an' my brother, we're gonna be fightin' ourselves a couple o' zombies here pretty quick... zombies that fight fer justice, an' sportsmanship, an' all kinds of other... invisible things. Things that ain't even barely there at all. Things that, in the long run... they don't matter. Y'all put so much time an' effort, sweat an' blood an' tears into shit that don't care about you. Shit that ain't doin' nothin' fer you. You've dedicated yer life to preachin' things ya cain't prove, adherin' to vague tenants to... to what? Atone? Who do y'all need forgiveness from?
More invisible forces.
Things ya cain't see.
Things that ain't listenin'.
Y'all... y'all are a couple o' jokes."
Things ya cain't see.
Things that ain't listenin'.
Y'all... y'all are a couple o' jokes."
With a dull thud, the woman shuts the book. She rises, slowly, the monster in the background once more shaking at its restraints. She turns, approaching the cage; the giant of a man inside seems to calm down, his grip on the metal bars loosening. She shushes him, quietly, before hazarding a partial look back to the camera.
"See, I ain't here to teach people 'bout good an' the truth. Whatever's lurkin' jus' beyond th' real, whatever's blessed me th' way that it has, I ain't got time to spread the message of its works. I've been given a gift, an' I ain't wastin' it. My big brother's come back to me... different, but still my brother, an' I'm gonna do everything I can to make up for th' time we lost. I'm gonna give him everything... he... wants. An' what he wants--and I want y'all t' understand this here, 'cuz it's important--
what he wants
what he craves,
more than anything else
is to hurt people."
what he craves,
more than anything else
is to hurt people."
A brief pause. A heavy, labored breath rises and falls from inside the cage. His mask stifles the dry air, leaving an uncomfortable wheeze, a sort of animalistic reverberation to eminate from his silhoutte. The woman turns, pressing her back against the bars. Despite the immense size and... primitive behavior of her older brother, she shows no fear in his presence, no hesitance, no vulnerability.
"Y'understand me? He wants to hurt people. It's aaall he's wanted to do since he came back. He wants to wrap his hands around yer throats and squeeze th' life outta ya. He wants to press yer skulls between his palms until they burst. He wants to crush yer bodies until yer insides come outta yer mouths, like a tube o' toothpaste. I ain't got 'em in this here cage to protect me, I got it to protect all them dumb, fragile regular folk walkin' around out there... but I cain't protect everybody. Not forever. My brother wants to do some GOD DAMN damage, an' I'm gonna oblige him! He wants to make somebody BLEED,
AND WHAT
MY BROTHER
WANTS
MY
BROTHER
GETS!"
MY BROTHER
WANTS
MY
BROTHER
GETS!"
Her hoarse voice rises to a screech, the howl of the wind outside ascending to meet her level. Her brother paces the length of the cage, restless as she is, his footsteps heavy against the cabin floor. Her fingers curl, her neck cracking as she twists her head to the side.
"An' you... zombies, you Ketsu-whatever-Z... y'all are first on the list. Y'all think yer discipline, yer focus, y'think that's gonna help you any. You think all that justice an' other hogwash, y'all think that's gonna run in an' save the day BUT IT'S NOT! Ain't... nothin, ain't NOTHIN', that's gonna keep MY BROTHER and ME from TAKIN' WHAT'S OUR'S!
And what's our's... is whatever the hell we want.
My brother wants to hurt people, then he gets to hurt people. If my brother wants them purdy Dynamic Division belts, then WE'RE GONNA TAKE THEM TOO and there ain't nothin' nobody 'round here can do to stop us, y'hear me? I've come... a long way, and I've gone through... a lot o' nonsense to get here, but my mama didn't jus' teach me about Santy Claus an' the dang ol' Easter Bunny. She taught me that if you want somethin' bad enough... if yer willin' to do anything, ANYTHING, for it... then you can get it. I already helped my brother overcome death, I already done spit in the face o' all them invisible things...
Y'all? Y'all ain't nothin'.
Ain't shit, not as far as I'm concerned."
Ain't shit, not as far as I'm concerned."
The woman approaches the camera. She cautiously steps around candles, over the old tome she's left lying upon the floor. She draws up close, the viewer scarcely able to catch anything but the darkness beneath her hood. Her voice lowers. Calm. Confident, but a low fury boils beneath the surface.
"I'm Darcy Solomon, an' this here behind me is my brother, Duke. We ain't here to change th' industry. We ain't here to transform th' business forever. We ain't even here to make a statement, or prove a point. We're here to do whatever the hell we feel like."
An' January 8th, 2017... what we feel like doin', is
PUTTIN' A COUPLE O' ZOMBIES
BACK
IN THE DAMN
GRAVE!"
Her hand rises, palm open
black.
PUTTIN' A COUPLE O' ZOMBIES
BACK
IN THE DAMN
GRAVE!"
Her hand rises, palm open
black.