Talk:Journal:Sasla
You start the recording. It opens on a floor, illuminated by the camera's light. It's not a shattered floor covered in rubble and dust and blood and shit. It's a clean, white floor. It's as if it were mopped just before the recoding. And that's all it shows, just the floor, as the camera is carried haphazardly forward, through the building. The movement stops. The light goes dark. You hear someone sniff the air, then a muffled cough as the camera shakes. The light is seen again. A door enters the frame. A spartan, industrial door. A manicured hand with purple nails reaches for the handle, and pushes the door open. Immediately, a snarl or a growl echos out of the darkness, the camera darts to illuminate the source, and a woman shouts something incoherent. The camera backs out of the room and the manicured hand fumbles for the door, grabs it, and pulls it shut. A pounding resonates from behind as the camera is carried away. The door is strong enough to hold for a few days at least, but the camera doesn't move any slower. The camera exits onto the streets, which are illuminated by street lights that you barely remember as anything but obstacles. The recording cuts.
It's a close up on a textbook. The image is too pixelated to make out any words, but there are many uncolored images of bolts, boards, and power tools. The same manicured hands turn the pages and highlight parts of the text. The camera is very stable, it must be mounted. You fast forward through 39 minutes of this, then stop, perplexed by the by a lack of movement. You can hear a faint series of groans. After a few minutes, the hands return, moving slightly faster. You fast forward again, this time for 85 minutes, then stop when the recording cuts.
It's another mounted close up. This time it illuminates a DNA scanner which looks unused. The hands familiarize themselves with it and explore its functions. You notice that a portion of the nail polish has chipped off one finger. After a few minutes, the recording cuts.
It's a wider shot this time. The camera is sitting on the ground, facing the front of a cinema, from the outside. The streetlights are off. A dumpster blocks the main entrance, but you quickly notice that you could climb atop it to reach an unbarricaded second-story window. There is a short woman in a puffy purple jacket holding a wooden plank. There are more in a small pile next to her. She starts to secure the dumpster in its place haphazardly. At first she uses a hammer to secure the boards, but she seems nervous about the noise, and switches to a power drill. The pile of boards is only half completed when she stops, and sits down to rest. She looks at the camera, albeit from a pixelated distance, and you see that she looks barely twenty. She rubs her temples, stands up to continue her work, steadies herself, and suddenly falls flat on her back, unconscious. You watch for a few more minutes to see her get eaten, but there's no activity, so you fast forward until a man jogs by and sees her. You wonder if he will rape her before he kills her. Instead, he tries to wake her, and failing that, lays his coat over her and keeps jogging. You fast forward again, and eventually she wakes up. She sees the coat and looks around, before hastily collecting the camera. The recording cuts.
It's a shot of a mirror. The camera has been strapped onto the woman's stomach. She tests the angle of the light. The recording cuts.
It's a moving shot. The camera waves dramatically from side to side as it moves forward through the darkened streets. You can see tonight's target. It was an elderly man in casual attire. As the camera gets closer, you can see where they got him. Lower left cheek. Not as much blood as usual. It looks around, perplexed by the light, and starts marching off away from the camera, chasing its own shadow. The camera approaches it, and the hand reaches out with DNA scanner. A quick stab in the back of the neck, and an amateurishly slow withdraw. It turns to face the camera, and grabs the arm. The camera flails wildly, and you hear a scream, and a crunch. The camera whips from side to side as it rushes back along the same route it came from. She starts to climb up the dumpster in front of the cinema, but her bloody hand is useless. The camera rushes instead to the side of the building, where it faces another one of them. The camera turns around to see the one that took her hand, the one that used to be the elderly man, blocking the only escape. You hear an angry shout as the camera charges strait forward, and rams into it. It falls to the ground, but before she can get up off of it, the shout turns into a scream, then to a series of glottal whimpers, and fresh blood pools onto the chest of the one that took her hand, and it smears on the lens. The whimpers are drowned out by ravenous groans, and you shut off the recording in disgust. --VVV RPMBG 06:07, 21 September 2013 (BST)
