Post by harshmillennium on Sept 9, 2018 18:40:05 GMT
"Vision From Kandahar"
--Post Pilot episode
The scene opened in a small room with sparse, yet clearly outdated furniture and decoration. It was a church basement, not renovated in a number of years. While one bulb gave some light, a line of windows ran along one side, narrow and close to the ceiling, depicting the ground slightly above. Folding chairs hosted various men of different ages and nationalities sitting in a circle. A coffee machine sat to one side, and it was clear several people there weren't 100% interested in what was going on. A clock ticked loudly as the seconds drove past. A man in his forties, black and clearly missing a leg grabbed people's attention again.
Smith: Thank you for sharing today. We all appreciate it, and I'm sure you'll bounce back soon. When I returned, I felt much the same way. Missing a leg, the family had sorta moved on to their own routine and I didn't know what to do with myself. But I'll tell you son, believe in yourself - you've got through a few scrapes in the desert - use that skill, that will, harness it and you'll be unstoppable.
This response was to a younger man, buzz cut with camo apparel on - the worry still struck his face, but he nodded along to the elder’s sage advice.
Smith: I've been running this support group for some time. Don't matter what people say, it's hard for us vets to come back. We leave a piece of ourselves over there, and sometimes our brains just wanna take us back, you know? We've still got time, does anyone else wanna share?
Samson: *clears throat* yeah, I will. I'm Samuel - “Samson” - 1-32 Infantry, B Company, based in Kandahar. I've not been to this group thing for some time now. I originally came just because, I don't know, it was expected. But I figured I adjusted well when I came back. I'd seen action, seen what a lot of you guys seen, yeah. But turned the page on it and moved on.
There were some nods of agreement around the room, but most just out of habit. A couple of the guys grabbed more coffee.
Samson: Compartmentalisation - is the Army motto, right? So I've went trying to build a life, you know, outside of the service. I went back to pro wrestling to help make ends meet. It's because I've not been able to keep down a job. And once I got fired from the last one, well that made me realise I wasn't as adjusted as I thought I was. You see, it's that rush - that unrelenting need for survival, the adrenaline Spike that really determines your future. I experienced it in the desert you know, and I keep feeling like I want it again? It don't make sense, I know, but it's helped me realise that I don't make much sense. So I started working - meat packing plant, then a butchers, then this place and that place. It's the mundane that's causing the problems, you know? The repetition. When we got that back in the desert, it was always followed up with action. The adrenaline would kick off, you know? But not when your just chopping meat in a factory. So I've kinda been all over the place. Not sleeping. No really seeing people. Then I get a new gig - a new wrestling promotion opened, right?
Those gathered around were marginally more interested in the story as it moved past the mundane talk of mundane tasks.
Smith: Who was it?
Samson: Nah, it wasn't no one. It was me, my conscience. People were getting hurt, you know? I had to move. And ultimately I survived. Walked out in one piece ready to fight again. I felt alive competing, but that fear I experienced… it ain't like me, you know? And I'll keep fighting. Keep going back. There's a certain group of mercenaries that need taken out. A psycho that's bound to end up killing someone. Stuff I can handle, stuff I should handle. But I feel that, whatever happens, I'm on a collision course with that monster again. I'm gonna freeze again. I'm gonna be right back in Kandahar, looking at my own mortality again. And honestly? I don't know if I can handle it. I don't know if it will make me stronger… or make me a monster too.
A short time later the group wrapped up, most were gone and chairs stacked away. Smith, the guy running it was giving some advice to the young guy from earlier. Someone else then accosted Samson, someone he'd recognised from years ago. Ricky had served at the same time as him, but not together. He was a good guy in general, albeit paranoid.
Ricky: Sam, good to see you. I have something for you - it ain't good. I've been getting followed, someone's spying on me. Messing about with things when I'm not looking, trying to mess with me. It's the Government Sam. The government. They want what I know.
Samson: What the hell are you talking about Ricky? The government don't care about you. Not until you don't pay your taxes.
Ricky: Shut up Sam this is serious. Look, I trust you. You are tough, and do the right thing. I want you to hold on to something for me. Something important. And whatever you don't let anyone know you have it. They are coming for me Sam, I know it. Here.
Ricky passed him a USB stick, black and unadorned. He was visibly shaking.
Ricky: I gotta go. Look I'll call you. I'll call and get it soon. I just gotta get out of here.
Samson: Take care of yourself Ricky. And come and get me. I can help you, help you feel a bit better.
Without a further word Ricky ran off, and Samson out the USB stick in his pocket. Another friend seemingly failed by the system. But Samson had other things to worry about - he would be competing again, back to the Wild House. He would step between those ropes in front of those bloodthirsty fans and, win or lose, he was going to feel alive.
--Post Pilot episode
The scene opened in a small room with sparse, yet clearly outdated furniture and decoration. It was a church basement, not renovated in a number of years. While one bulb gave some light, a line of windows ran along one side, narrow and close to the ceiling, depicting the ground slightly above. Folding chairs hosted various men of different ages and nationalities sitting in a circle. A coffee machine sat to one side, and it was clear several people there weren't 100% interested in what was going on. A clock ticked loudly as the seconds drove past. A man in his forties, black and clearly missing a leg grabbed people's attention again.
Smith: Thank you for sharing today. We all appreciate it, and I'm sure you'll bounce back soon. When I returned, I felt much the same way. Missing a leg, the family had sorta moved on to their own routine and I didn't know what to do with myself. But I'll tell you son, believe in yourself - you've got through a few scrapes in the desert - use that skill, that will, harness it and you'll be unstoppable.
This response was to a younger man, buzz cut with camo apparel on - the worry still struck his face, but he nodded along to the elder’s sage advice.
Smith: I've been running this support group for some time. Don't matter what people say, it's hard for us vets to come back. We leave a piece of ourselves over there, and sometimes our brains just wanna take us back, you know? We've still got time, does anyone else wanna share?
Samson: *clears throat* yeah, I will. I'm Samuel - “Samson” - 1-32 Infantry, B Company, based in Kandahar. I've not been to this group thing for some time now. I originally came just because, I don't know, it was expected. But I figured I adjusted well when I came back. I'd seen action, seen what a lot of you guys seen, yeah. But turned the page on it and moved on.
There were some nods of agreement around the room, but most just out of habit. A couple of the guys grabbed more coffee.
Samson: Compartmentalisation - is the Army motto, right? So I've went trying to build a life, you know, outside of the service. I went back to pro wrestling to help make ends meet. It's because I've not been able to keep down a job. And once I got fired from the last one, well that made me realise I wasn't as adjusted as I thought I was. You see, it's that rush - that unrelenting need for survival, the adrenaline Spike that really determines your future. I experienced it in the desert you know, and I keep feeling like I want it again? It don't make sense, I know, but it's helped me realise that I don't make much sense. So I started working - meat packing plant, then a butchers, then this place and that place. It's the mundane that's causing the problems, you know? The repetition. When we got that back in the desert, it was always followed up with action. The adrenaline would kick off, you know? But not when your just chopping meat in a factory. So I've kinda been all over the place. Not sleeping. No really seeing people. Then I get a new gig - a new wrestling promotion opened, right?
Those gathered around were marginally more interested in the story as it moved past the mundane talk of mundane tasks.
Samson: “Wild Wrestling Unleashed” its called. My kinda thing for sure. So I'm thinking, the bell rings and I'm in a fight, yeah? It's me or the other guy. And I'd feel like, I don't know, I was achieving something. But that's not what happens here, no. When they said wild they meant wild. I got beat up, battered, bruised, all in a night's work. Fought a group of guys and gals, really chaotic. But then it got worse. I laid eyes on a monster, and I was right back in that burned out mosque in Kandahar again. I could taste the blood and the sand. Struggled to catch my breath, back pressed against a wall. Gun in hand, but basically useless as I hear fighting all around. Dying all around. That's the first time my fight or flight response failed, you know. I froze. Back in Kandahar by CO grabbed me and shoved me into action. Instincts kicked in, you know, and I went from that. But here. WWU. Staring down this monster and a froze again. He was covered in blood. I heard shouts and yells, real people fallen to him. My CO forced me into action before, but I swear a hand gave me a shove towards the monster this time. To do the right thing and try and take him down.
Smith: Who was it?
Samson: Nah, it wasn't no one. It was me, my conscience. People were getting hurt, you know? I had to move. And ultimately I survived. Walked out in one piece ready to fight again. I felt alive competing, but that fear I experienced… it ain't like me, you know? And I'll keep fighting. Keep going back. There's a certain group of mercenaries that need taken out. A psycho that's bound to end up killing someone. Stuff I can handle, stuff I should handle. But I feel that, whatever happens, I'm on a collision course with that monster again. I'm gonna freeze again. I'm gonna be right back in Kandahar, looking at my own mortality again. And honestly? I don't know if I can handle it. I don't know if it will make me stronger… or make me a monster too.
A short time later the group wrapped up, most were gone and chairs stacked away. Smith, the guy running it was giving some advice to the young guy from earlier. Someone else then accosted Samson, someone he'd recognised from years ago. Ricky had served at the same time as him, but not together. He was a good guy in general, albeit paranoid.
Ricky: Sam, good to see you. I have something for you - it ain't good. I've been getting followed, someone's spying on me. Messing about with things when I'm not looking, trying to mess with me. It's the Government Sam. The government. They want what I know.
Samson: What the hell are you talking about Ricky? The government don't care about you. Not until you don't pay your taxes.
Ricky: Shut up Sam this is serious. Look, I trust you. You are tough, and do the right thing. I want you to hold on to something for me. Something important. And whatever you don't let anyone know you have it. They are coming for me Sam, I know it. Here.
Ricky passed him a USB stick, black and unadorned. He was visibly shaking.
Ricky: I gotta go. Look I'll call you. I'll call and get it soon. I just gotta get out of here.
Samson: Take care of yourself Ricky. And come and get me. I can help you, help you feel a bit better.
Without a further word Ricky ran off, and Samson out the USB stick in his pocket. Another friend seemingly failed by the system. But Samson had other things to worry about - he would be competing again, back to the Wild House. He would step between those ropes in front of those bloodthirsty fans and, win or lose, he was going to feel alive.