Topic: Scarred: Burning Bridges

Samilee Burke

Date: 2010-11-02 11:59 EST
Sometimes it was harder to do what you figured what was right.

Sami didn?t usually pray. In truth, she often doubted the existence of a higher power. Still, in those moments of silence, sitting alone in the darker recesses of the Asylum, her lips found the time to utter quiet requests.

Please, God. Let this madness stop. Get us all through this.

Despite her ties to the supernatural the Promethean possessed no super powers. She was just as fragile as any human. Rather than rushing to the battlefront where the blood ran freely down the cobblestone streets she chose to make her stand here amongst people very much like herself.

The day before she had mentioned it to Jochin. What Sami didn?t say was this might very well be her last show here at her most favorite of venues. Romax Pol had been a good enough friend and proprietor to give her free reign of his club whenever it struck her fancy. She didn?t know how (or even if) he was involved in what all the city was referring to as Travanix?s war. The whole thing made her feel dirty.

Outside there was music and the usual light effects show. Glamoured peepers stared at the reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back was reality. It wasn?t the mask worn for the rest of the world. The mask was who she wanted to be, but it was also who she knew she could never be again. With a sigh she rose from her seat to inspect the costume she wore. It was olive green with military embellishments and red stitching. A set of knee high combat boots were shined and ready.

Just beyond the seal of her door she could hear the laughter and nervous tittering of tonight?s ensemble. Glancing to the clock, she knew it was time. Purposeful strides lead her out of the private room and into the open hall behind the stage. A cast of dancers waited. The girls were regulars and under Lord Pol?s employ she suspected. The boys, however, were all new. There were six men in total and each wore a rigid black uniform with a matching hat. Each hand held onto a silver mask.

?Everybody ready?? They had rehearsed the number a few times without funny doing the ending. And the music had been instrumental only. Sami had told them she wanted them to feel the full impact of the words during the actual performance. There had to be an emotional connection.

The group seemed excited as they all often were before going out. It was a rush, after all.

Throughout the night other dancers had been taking shifts doing numbers on stage. Normally Sami would have been amongst them, but tonight she would just be performing in this solitary act. It had taken the better part of a week to get everything in place.

A four foot high, half-moon structure, the stage was currently decorated with five white ropes and two stair-edged platforms of cold metal. As the clock?s hand confirmed it was midnight a wash of blacklight swept over the performance area while the house lights dimmed slightly.

Sami sucked in a deep breath as the music started and the entirety of their group rushed onto the stage.

Samilee Burke

Date: 2010-11-02 12:37 EST
A heavy bassline started along with effect-heavy guitar sounds that were almost alien in nature. Unlike most nights when a song played and they just danced along, tonight there was a microphone in skeletor fingers. A powerful, albeit amateur, voice rose up from that pale throat craning at a sickly angle as glamoured eyes swept across the crowd.

The paranoia is in bloom, the PR
Transmissions will resume, they'll try to
Push drugs, keep us all dumb down and hope that
We will never see the truth around, so come on

Another promise, another scene, another
Package not to keep us trapped in greed with all the
Green belts wrapped around our minds and endless
Red tape to keep the truth confined, so come on!

The sound system buzzed with life at the volume of the music. On either side of the Derby Dame there were girls in white skirts and bikini tops climbing on ropes while the uniformed men marched in place with their backs towards the audience. Every once and a while they would turn to show their lifeless silver faces and then turn once more to shoot paintball splatters onto the stage background. With the blacklight those peppered spots were starting to bring the whole scene to life.

They will not force us
And they will stop degrading us
And they will not control us
We will be victorious, so come on

As the soldiers marched their shots started to draw closer to the girls spinning upright on their ropes. Occasionally the ropes would swing close enough that they would change places and continue to turn in what could only be described as very impressive acrobatics. The blacklight wash over the stage was starting to be joined by streamed lined lasers that cut across bodies in motion with a harsh accent of blues and greens.

Interchanging mind control, come let the
Revolution take its toll, if you could
Flick a switch and open your third eye, you'd see that
We should never be afraid to die, so come on

Rise up and take the power back, it's time that
The fat cats had a heart attack, you know that
Their time is coming to an end, we have to
Unify and watch our flag ascend, so come on!

With careful steps the Derby Dame began to move away from the front of the stage where she had been walking back and forth, eyes always on the audience and never on the commotion behind.

They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious, so come on!

Throughout the chorus paintball splatters of neon red started to hit the girls on the ropes. The soldiers aimed for thighs, arms, and boney shoulders. On cue and in tempo the girls would scream in pain, bemoaning their injuries to a far greater extent than mere paintballs would cause.

The soldiers switched places, still marching as they sang out.

Hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey

As the uniformed, silver-faced men sang the Promethean turned to climb the rope at the center of the stage. One hand had to wrestle the task of clinging to the microphone while both pulled her skinny frame up through the air on sheer muscular force alone. Once she was at the top the rope was carefully wrapped around one leg and thighs tensed. As she started to sing again the uniformed soldiers went climbing up the metal stairs on either side, guns blazing.

They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious,

so come on!

At the last lyric each soldier took aim and fired a shit in the dead center of the forehead of each girl. All five spun on their ropes. White and olive green skirts lifted while haltered tops fell to reveal bright crimson material and a band of bloody red covering their chests.

As for the Promethean, those glamoured eyes suddenly popped with power. Cerulean color glowed strongly even as her hair turned to feathers and skin turned to scars. In a matter of seconds the soldiers above suddenly collapsed. To the quick eye there was a stream of almost smokey air blowing from each of the soldiers to those glamoured pools of blue. As soon as their bodies hit the floor her hair and skin returned to their previous color and state.

A wave of emotion was sent over the crowd. It wouldn?t affect them all, but it could touch a few minds? minds that were open. It was a sense of empowerment and motivation. It was the promise of hope.

With that the curtain closed and the audience was left to their mutterings.