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| «Fading from black the scene opens and reveals the scene appears in 32mm "widescreen" format (you know, "black bars" on the top and bottom of your television screen). The shot focuses around a very old, and not well kept up victorian style house. Immediately surrounding it are clumps of half dead patches of grass in the field of garbage littered sand and dirt. In the distant, in front of the orange and red sunset bleached sky, the outlines of black smokestacks, and huge boxy warhouses, which indicate booming, or once booming, industry nearby.» «The camera approaches the rickety stairs to the porch, smoothly and slowly. As the house fully consumes the frame, getting closer and closer to the doorway, the viewer can truely appreciate how the decades have not been kind to this home, and the owner, whoever that maybe, not caring at all about matience. The splintering and rotting siding, the eternally dusty, some broken front windows, and the porch which looks like it would very well calapse if it had to sustain any sort of extra weight.» «Suprisingly the camrea, and it's operator are held up by the ancient porch, and they make it through the open door, which by the looks of the doorway had been long since been broken down, leaving it's locks unuseable. The interior of the house is not much better. The wood floorboards, and faded wallpaper covered walls, half dents, marks, and indication of severe water damage. Though an occassionally flickering, orange glow from above seems to light most of the house, one cannot help but feeling the lightning is not a huge improvement from complete darkness. The camera keeps moving passing doorways which have the remains of hinges, indicating there were doors once blocking where ever those doorways lead. In turn the camera goes through a few of those doorways, revealing more of the same, until it reaches what seems to be the back of the house.» «The back most room of the house where the camera wandered into seems to be, by the looks of the old rifigerator, sink, and filthy counters, the kitchen. The most amazing thing about the kitchen seems to be the back wall which seems to be entirely made up of windows, or window frames which appear to have once housed windows. Though the windows that are not broken, are so dusty, that view of the sunset happening outside, is distorted into a yellow glow. the shafts of light that make it through the broken windows is reflected by the millions of dust particles floating here. Following the light the camera settles on a figure seated at rectanglar table which would be more acurately called a slab of wood on a few square shaped legs. One half of the human figure's face and body are lit by the glow coming through the windows, the other half is in shadows. The individual's hair is spiked, and seems to be going every which way, and he is wearing, and old, beat up, rust coloured jacket, which is his only piece of clothing not obscured by the darkness, and "table". He seems to be in some sort of comteplative state.» «It's hard to imagine that anyone would choose to live in this house. The house seems like it is ripe to be torn down, destroyed; the basic equivalent of death for once marvelous structures, built by skilled men. It'd be more fitting for this condemed house to be the site of a death, or a funeral, not a begining. But this is indeed a begining. Not a typical begining, but you just don't know Alec Empire, yet.» [The viewer now notices the echoing sound of dripping water in the background. It was always there, but sometimes we just don't notice things that have always been there. Alec rubs his face with one hand, as if he has just woken up, and turns his half shadowed face toward the camera and begins to speak.] Alec Empire: Finally after two years of searching, waiting and meticulous planning, we are finally standing at begining of a new era, the dawn of a revolution. Ground zero. It all begins here in Tidal Wave Wrestling. Through one of those five hundred *Alec makes a motion with his hand as if he's changing the channels on a remote control* channels you're so proud of having at your finger tips you will see it unfold. You too will see how self-destruction just might make you a better person. Maybe you're afraid to hear the truth: that all those wonderful consumer products you buy and own, one day, start to own you. Week after week I will offer the key to freedom and enlightment to anyone that wants to take it. The only catch is, you decide your own level of involvement: and tommorow night the first man who will get to test how far I will go to demonstrate the fundamentals, the twelve step program if you will, that will lead you to the path of enlightenment is none other then Tyler Dane. My how you've fallen from grace. One minute you're on top of the world, EWA World Champion, the next you're soundly defeated by the man you berated, mocked. You are getting closer and closer to finally rock bottom; closer to being able to make something better of yourself. The first sign of someone being a wash up, is an increased dwelling on former glory. You are not your former EWA championship belt Tyler. Tommorow night all of your shallow accomplishments are not going to count for anything. You think your past success will hold any weight with me when we stare at each, awaiting for the signal to collide? No. I will see but a man just waiting to be liberated: to be shown that there is another way. Have you thought, Tyler, who's *Alec raises both hands in fists, mimicking a fighting stance. A vast number of scars on his hands can be seen* "meal ticket" you really are? You say you carried the EWA on your back, to a pretty successful stint. I bet all those who had any vested interest in the EWA made a big pile of money, and what did you get for your blood, sweat, and broken bones? A smaller pile of money? If you ask me, there's no amount of money that can replace embracing all those things that come out of you, and you learn, when you're in a fight. You're not alive anywhere like you are when pain consumes your body, and the blood that's gushing out of that gash seems like it won't stop until every pint has found it's way on your skin, clothes and the floor. You sold your soul a dollar at a time, and saw this experience as a by product of your black jaguar and "nice" house. Lucky for you, there's always a sencond chance, and yours is tommorow night. Win or lose, on paper, I know I'll come out of Thursday knowing one vital step has been completed. Hopefully you'll come out of it one step closer to hitting bottom, thus closer to real spiritual enlightenment. «Alec, done saying his piece, for now, gets up and leaves through on of the kitchen's doorways. The empty kitchen cosumes the screen for a moment, before the scene slowly fades to black.» |
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