GREEN
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1799 9.83 KB 113
1799 9.83 KB 113
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=Am I Evil 13=
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>You look yourself in your costume over in the mirror.
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“Hmmm… gimme the first pair again.”
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>Your aide hands you the first set of goggles you tried on.
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>”Why are you bothering with these if you’re wearing the mask, Anonymous?” she asks.
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“Because sometimes heavy metal is less about the music and more about looking really, really cool.”
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>”Right…”
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>You throw the goggles on and hike up your trenchcoat as you step outside your tent.
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>The makeshift shooting camp in the middle of the Mild West was expansive, going on for hundreds of feet in a plane of tents and food cards juxtaposed by the flat, sandy ground and high mesas of the desert west of Equestira.
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>You turn your head and spot Eris dragging on a cigarette in a patchwork suit and tutu.
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>”Remind me to shoot the person who wanted to film a music video in the fucking desert.”
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“That’d be the director.” You say heading over.
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“Not a fan?”
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>”Too hot, ruins my hair. You should have heard Chrys.” She says, blowing out smoke.
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>Right…the place the Changelings were banished to.
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>You wisely change the subject.
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“You see the cars we’re on?”
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>Eris practically purrs. “-I- get a comfy ride I can lay down on, I don’t know about you.”
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“Giant speaker-mobile.”
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>”That’s pretty tight.”
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“So this movie’s about cars or something?”
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>”Cars, guns, and I saw some chicks in wet clothes earlier.”
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“Were they hot?”
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>Eris gives you the A-okay symbol.
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“Nice.”
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>The two of you turn your head towards a ruckus coming from the primary costume tent, it sounded like Artemis.
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“Want to be entertained before we earn our pay?”
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>Eris stomps her cigarette into the sand and takes your arm. “It’s a date.”
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>The two of you walk towards the central tent where all the costumes for the movie were being kept.
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>Filthy had negotiated the use of the actual costume and props people for the video shoot. Procedure was that you report to this tent where they’d experiment and mix and match with what they had to find out what’d work best for the band.
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>”BLOODY HELL, HURRY UP!” you hear Sombra shout from outside.
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>Apparently it wasn’t going well.
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>The two of you walk inside and find Sombra standing in a T pose on a raised platform. Leather straps across his chest met in the middle and he was wearing chainmetal kilt. Two costume designers stood next to him, rubbing their chins.
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>Artemis was laughing in the corner.
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>”Hmmm…what if we added horns with a helmet?” one designer asks.
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>”Oh yes, please, let’s do that. I mean, to the parent’s rights groups, I’m already a demon.” Sombra says sarcastically.
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>You and Eris snigger.
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>”You two –aren’t- helping.” He says.
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>”Good, we aren’t trying to.”
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“You look like some sort of weird sex roleplay guy.”
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>Everyone in the room gives you both incredulous looks.
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>”That’s some weird fetish, Anon…”
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“Shut up. Put feathers on him.”
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>One of the designers claps his hands. “Ohhh! Feathers! Right at the top of the helmet, a glorious plumnage!”
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>Sombra stares at you with a face that could shatter the ground. “I hate you.”
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>You stick your tongue out and flip him off as you and Eris vacate.
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>The two of you walk through the production camp and find Chrysalis standing in wonderment in front of a vehicle.
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>It was a monstrosity. A hodgepodge of random parts and speakers and horns attached to a chassis that looked like it could rattle apart at any moment, with a throne in the front for someone to stand.
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>Chrysalis looks back at you and points a finger at the death mobile.
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>”You’re going to –ride- that?” she asks.
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>She was nervous, you could tell.
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“I’m going to –own- that car. Whole video, I’m looking the best.”
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>Chrysalis rolls her eyes as Eris comes up next to you. “I dunno, have you seen hers?”
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“No?”
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>The Changeling Queen rubs her forehead. Eris turns your head towards a small speedster with a 30 foot poll on the back.
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>”She’s up there.” She says.
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>You whistle.
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“Hope you’re not scared of heights.”
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>Chrysalis is not amused. “I could always use a nice cushion full of hot air to break my fall if I need to.”
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>Hell, you can roll with it.
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“Sorry, but they made a big, safe, nice truck for me to ride on. I think they know what they’re investing in.”
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>Chrysalis rolls her eyes again and makes a “yap yap yap” motion with her hand. “Where’s the other boys?”
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>”Getting dressed up like a pride parade and laughing about it.” Eris says.
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“Respectively, that is.”
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>”Yeah, respectively.”
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>Chrysalis eyes the two of you and squints. “I know about New Years, but is there something between you two?”
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>You and Eris look at each other and then say “I ‘unno?” in unison.
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>”And…action!” you hear over the speakers behind you.
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>Engines rev and the crane camera attached to the leading car got into position.
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>You position yourself on your rolling stage as it roars to life and jam out a riff.
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>Flying cameras launch up and encircle the fleet of vehicles when you jam out another. The intention with all this was, in essence, a gamble.
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>This fleet of cars was too expensive and irritating to get multiple shots of, even ignoring what’d happen if someone wrecked, so you only got the one take.
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>Everyone had two cameras on them at all times and the convoy as a whole had a whopping five. You were going to drown the editors in footage from every angle you could.
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>The convoy speeds down the road in a herd of hellish engines. You stomp your foot as you play your intended notes.
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>Artemis rides up beside you in a mighty interceptor who’s wheels have been transplanted with tank treads instead, but built to not sacrifice an bit of speed.
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>Behind you, the center of the convoy rides up. Sombra’s thunderous choir rig belches pitch black smoke into the sky as it jockeys for position in the group. On its back sit a half dozen thundering war drums leading up the ziggurat structure to the top where Sombra sits on a four-bass drumset.
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>Two smaller cars zip between the bigger rigs of the convoy. One with a large almost bed shaped hammock of some kind suspended in the back as it drove alone on three wheels, speakers bolted to the sides blasting sound. Eris lay in the hammock slightly swinging back and forth as she plucked along on her base, high heeled boots resting on the cab.
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>The final relevant hot rod lurches forward and loses its 30 foot pole it had attached to it. And the singer attached to the pole.
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>Chrysalis grips her mic with one hand and grips the pole she was secretly harnessed to for dear life with the other.
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>She screams the first crescendo of the song which signals the entire fleet to kick their engines, spraying smog and fire into the sky.
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>You and Artemis flick switches and stomp down as the convoy sprays up the golden sand into the sky where it mixes with your smoke and fire.
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>Chrysalis starts singing—or at least miming—as the technicians focus the cameras to capture every moment of footage they can while they can.
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>Chrysalis starts singing while she can and you and Artemis shift to a more technical plucking of your guitar strings. Sombra slams his drums behind you as hard as he can.
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>Every sound and vibration you make is fed through the amplifiers and then set to eleven.
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>Then someone draws a twelve and thirteen on them, then a little skull, and turns it to that. The sonic amplitude coming from the speakers sends sand flying in your wake.
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>The cameras reposition themselves around you as the chorus starts, the chorus you thought was lame but you were out-voted on so whatever, one angling low under Chrysalis to get a shot of her against the clear blue sky.
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>You put on a show for the cameras and mouth along the lyrics for the boys in editing.
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>Once the chorus ends, your solo starts. The camera gets in as close as it can and your rig belches an inferno into the air.
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>The solo is quick and plucky, just like the rough cut of the film you saw, before you go nuts with the notes to mirror the deranged feeling you got from the film.
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>Chrysalis’s car falls back a bit to tighten up the group more and her pole starts to swing back and forth. You see momentary fear in her eyes as she grips her safety harness tighter and dips closer towards you.
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>The cameras swarm over to the both of you as she sings and you reach your hand up.
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>Come on, you bitch…
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>Chrysalis’ eyes meet you for a moment and she catches your drift.
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>The two of you high-five at a hundred miles an hour.
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>As you watch Chrysalis raise back up, you see Sombra flourish and put on a show for the camera that zooms in on his face. Even here in the noise and wind you can hear him wail on his double bass.
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>The drummers on the back of Sombra’s rig begin pounding again. At that same time, the lights on the cameras flick on as you enter into a small artificial dust cloud made by some support staff.
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>If memory served, this was the more calm bridge you wrote. Good for ambience, but terrible for acting. Everyone pulls scarves and goggles down around their faces to hide from the dust.
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>The convoy rockets out of the dust cloud on wheels of fire and Chrysalis starts the last verse.
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>Stunt-men jump between the cars or bang their heads to the same rhythm all of you are that Sombra puts out on his drums.
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>Chrysalis flies high over the convoy as she sings over the desert.
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>Each camera gets a money shot of you all as the cars burn their last nitrous and race past a camera on a crane. The lens captures you hauling ass out into the desert as the agreed upon finishing shot.
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>”Annd…cut! Excellent work, everyone!”
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>Finally!
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>You pull your scarf down and begin hacking and coughing as the cars come to a stop. Your hair was full of sand, your face had scrapes on it, and your fingers were raw.
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>But the worst part was that you were pretty sure you swallowed a bug.
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid
by Mandroid