Post by "The Ripper" Danny B on Mar 8, 2014 12:14:01 GMT -5
“Oh how I wish for soothing rain, all I wish is to dream again, my loving heart lost from the start, my hope my dreams my everything.”
‘Nemo’ sung gorgeously by Tarja Trunenmen of Nightwish blares out the windows of the sleek 1965 Ford Shelby that races down the highway, not another soul in sight. As the car rolls past an arm is seen hanging from the window, draped in olive green and holding a cigarette. As the car streaks past the butt is flicked from the lonely arm, and strikes the camera lens dead and centre.
Inside the car Danny B careens along the deserted dusty road, his tinted sunglasses barely covering the smile on his face. Long roads, great car, rocking tunes. This was the life.
“And the think that sucks the most of course is that this will all have to come to an end when I roll into Shreveport on Monday and have to go to work. I’ve said a thousand times I love what I do, but I don’t always like the people I work with, my fucking lord that has never been truer than this week.
I mean fuck me, look at the basic level of it all. I have to deal with that little boy that thinks he’s worth something now because he spends exactly four hours and twenty two minutes every day with his nose shoved firmly up Gavin Reed’s ass.
Oh Noah, you and your little Messiah complex, we have a little problem at the moment don’t we? The sheer fact is you seem to have interjected yourself into a problem that me and your pimp seem to have. Not really the best move for someone who cannot get the job done, not without help anyway. So does it surprise me that you’ve teamed up with someone that you feel may be able to help you get through this tournament without actually having to do a lot? Nah not in the slightest, and you know what, fella, I know \we’re going into this thing at a disadvantage, after all you’ll have three men on your side, maybe more depending on how much TGO and Reed wanna screw around with the rules, but it won’t matter, it isn’t going to stop us from taking this match and running over it like a steam train at full power my friend, and you, you’re the unfortunate fucking soul that is tied to the tracks, nothing you can do about it.
I wonder if you’ve realised yet why your partner chose you Noah? I’m sure in your puny Irish mind you think it’s because you’re worth him teaming with you, but do be fucking serious for a moment would you? That old moron chose you because he knows in his mind that the chances of him actually wining this match, or indeed showing any kind of the level that he had a decade ago is slim and none. So therefore he picks someone that is likely to screw it up, and when the two of you lose he can blame you. That much is obvious. You’re a sacrificial lamb Noah, and I am the fucking executioner in this case. “
Danny looks through his shades down the long Californian road, leading to the meeting point that Amber Ryan had given him. He had no idea why she had picked such a place, or even why she wanted to see him, but he was gonna make the best of it.
“Besides, while I was down here I got a chance to go to Alex’s bar. I thought it would be appropriate considering that the show this week is in Shreveport, you know, Fangtasia, True Blood, filmed at that bar? My fucking God you people have no culture these days. Get Netflix for the love of Christ.”
Danny searched his glove box for another packet of smokes, it seems he finished the last one during the drive. As he leaned over, he was seen wearing olive drab all over, with medals and a lanyard in place, for all intents and purposes it looked like a cold war marines number ones. He sparks the new smoke and leans his arm out the window again.
“Noah I almost feel sorry for you, you’re involved in things you can’t handle, getting between me and Reed for one is stupid. It’s gone from just wanting to slap the silly cunt up a little for getting in my way, to now being an all-out war between me and you, and look Noah, I’m dressed for fucking war. But then you get one other thing you can’t handle, a partner that has as much bite as a rat after it’s had dental work. I would feel sorry for you if it wasn’t for the fact you’re my victim this week.
I’ve had a fair bit of stick over the last few weeks because I haven’t won every match I have been in, and you know, that’s far. I didn’t win the battle royal and I lost one hell of a match to Roach this past week, but frankly I was proud to lose that match, because that match was a show stealer, and if the fickle wrestling world hadn’t of been so into the mian event just because it had a title on the line it would have been the match of the week, but it wasn’t and that is that. Although it helps that one person in that match has about has much flavour to his personality as Guinness, tastes like crap and is full of shit.
That mistake will be rectified this week, because the difference between Noah and Roach, and the bug can take a hell of a beating, get up, take another, get up and then decide to fight back. Noah will shit in his pants, call for mummy cry to his partner and the blatant father figure he never had, both of which will tell him to pick his balls off the ground and just get the fuck on with it. There may be some disillusion between Amber and I, but at least we know it, and we at least know that we want that main event spot and will do everything in our power to get it, we don’t need to hide, because we can actually handle ourselves in that ring.”
In the distance an old fort comes into view, off to the side of a chapel. Danny kicks the engine up a notch and allows it to roar towards the seemingly abandoned area. The car rolls off the highway onto a dirt track, kicking stones and dust up as the old Shelby powers towards its destination, before long Danny sees a metallic jade car parked with a familiar red-head leaning upon it.
“Here we go.”
Danny stops the car dead, revs it a few times and allows it to roar up to an old Chevy, creating a cloud of dust as he does so. Danny stops, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window and takes off his shades before climbing out and slamming the door shut. As the dust settles he sees Amber Ryan, now standing straight up staring at him.
“What in the name of all that is decent are you wearing?”
“I thought I might embrace the location, besides I paid a pretty penny for this and I am going to get my money’s worth”.
“A pretty penny? I think you might have overpaid in that respect.”
“Do I sense a tone of jealousy Amber?”
“No you sense a tone of ‘you look utterly ridiculous’”
Danny shoots Amber a sarcastic look before moving around to the trunk of his car. As he lifts the boot a glittering British Lee-Enfield rifle stares back at him. Danny lifts the early 20th century weapon from the car, and slams his trunk down. The bang snaps Amber Ryan from her dream world, and she turns to find Ripper aiming the gun at her, fiddling with the sight.
“Is that real?”
Would you like to find out?”
“That would depend on if you’re going to keep pointing it at me.”
A smile creeps across the face of Danny B, not lowering the rifle, he watches through the sight as she turns her attention to the old warehouse, running her fingers across the dusty walls.
“Are you done playing with toys?”
The cold drawling sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed by Danny, but he decides of lifting the rifle and resting it on his shoulder regardless. He beckons towards the old door in front of them.
“After you my dear.”
Amber turns towards the door, seemingly contemplating it for only a moment, giving Danny enough time to brush past her with enough force that he felt her stumble, he didn’t look back however, as his next movement consisted of a swift boot to the old door, that came clean off its rusted old hinges, flew a few feet into the warehouse and crashed with an almighty clang on the floor.
Danny saunters in, swearing he could hear his tag partner mumbling behind him as he looked for a switch, he found it second later to the left of the door frame and flicked it, old industrial lights flickered into life. Danny took in the old smell of dust burning on the now luminescent ceiling, before heading across the old room and vanishing through one of the metal doors that stood about the place. It clanged loudly behind him as he walked through, finding another switch and taking in the room he had walked into, which seems to consist solely of abandoned machine parts. Even Ripper couldn’t quite stifle a laugh when he saw the brand name on what looked like an old printing press. ‘TGO’.
“Seems about right if you ask me, couldn’t really be more poetic could it? The Great One, stands again in an OCW ring, the man has history, he has a legacy, he’s a former champion here and round the world, in fact in his over ten year career he has managed to do half of what I have, that is almost impressive. However TGO stands for something very different, you may still refer to yourself as The Great One, but realistically, it stands for Trevor Got Old.”
Danny walks aimlessly around the room, rifle still over his shoulder, heavy boots clanging on the old floors. Trevor you have nothing left to give this company in that ring, you did your best work over the past few weeks wearing a suit and staying the fuck out of the way. This isn’t the glory days of OCW anymore, this is a new crowd, a new era, new faces, new arenas, new times. The one word I am using overly repetitively to make a point is new. You are not said word, in fat you describe the opposite, I mean fuck man, didn’t you used to have hair?
You have a lot in common with these old machines mate, in that at one point in their lives they were useful, probably the cornerstones of some companies, but now that stand forgotten, scrap, ready for the right person to come along and melt them down to make them something useful again, because they, like you, can never be what they once were, they will always be scrap. Dress ‘em up pretty and they might just have a different use, but they will never be great again.”[/color]
Danny lowers the rifle into position, aiming for an old light perched atop what looks like an old shoe maker, reminiscent of the one in Jumanji, and takes a shot. It flies true and to its purpose, smashing the old glass tumbler into a million tiny pieces. Danny walks back through to the original open room and sees a door open to his right, he walks through it, the sky above his head cloudier than before but still clear. He takes aim once again, and shoots the rifle, the bullet travels true, missing Amber Ryan, who Danny had spotted staring into the distance, her back turned to him, by a good ten feet. She snaps round a fire in her eyes, Danny lowers the rifle in response.
“What the actual fuck Danny?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, if I had wanted to hit you I would have done.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, I still need you to win this lottery tournament thing, afterwards we can find out just how good a shot I really am.”
Amber’s look of disgust tells Danny everything he needs to know. He watches as Amber walks off, past the cars and towards the old chapel he saw earlier. Ripper walked back into the old warehouse, noticing for the first time that the light above his head had gone out, he headed for the stairs instead this time, barely illuminated by the holes in the corrugated celling and the lights coming in through the doors. As he climbed he turned his head back and saw the TGO logo through the open door once again.
“Sometimes this must be like what it is to be in your mind eh mate? A lot of old shit that made you famous, but not a lot going on anymore. I have to say though, I swear there’s something in the water in Dallas, I think I’ll avoid it in future, you know that psycho bitch bag outside is a Dallas native too? Well she says she is, I still detect the odd Aussie inflection once in a while, but you know, she has an apartment and shit down there so whatever, but it does seem to produce some colossal A-holes, and Trev, mate, you lead that pack.
Everyone at the moment thinks they have one over on Dean because they have more money than him and can put it into the business, Carey has a financier, Gavin with his little golden belts and you with the TV deal. I don’t know if you noticed shit bag, but the cameras have been updated too, probably not, the reason that you managed to sign a TV deal could well have something to do with the HD camera’s that landed in Deans office recently, I wonder who the fuck did that?
See for some of us, what we do in the ring is way more important, we let our actions speak louder than words, I can’t imagine moving that big frame around for you is easy any more eh? I’ll being some oil, should help speed up those replacements you must have by now.”
Danny reaches the top of the stairs and spots an old hatch above his head, he pushes it open, and is greeted with the creeping grey sky forming above his head. Danny slings the rifle over his shoulder and pulls himself up onto the roof. He sits on some of the old corrugated iron, looking out towards the chapel in the distance.
“These two this week really make the name of tag team wrestling that much worse, they are less functional than we are, and that says a hell of a fucking lot.
See Amber and I, we do not see eye to eye. Partially because she’s a midget and partially because we have deep rooted hatred for each other. But as I said before, you can’t hate someone that much without loving them a little, and as much as she denies it, she feels the same way. But most importantly we have been through the ringer me and her, we’ve fought time and time again, and yes she has ONE clear victory over me, the very first, but since then we have not been able to prove which of us is better, in my mind we never will.
The important thing there, is that we know we are as near to equals as equals can be, and when we come to find who is better, we will do it one on one at the end of the month. We will not spend this match trying to prove we are better than the other, unlike Noah who wants nothing more than to prove that he can actually do something for himself these days, who needs to prove that he doesn’t need someone watching his back to make himself relevant. He needs to prove that even though he has been an outsider all his life, he isn’t now, that he means something, and he will happily do that at TGO’s expense.”
Danny pauses to take in the now rising wind that is lapping past him as he sits there.
“TGo has a lot to prove too, he needs to prove that he is not the ancient lord of darkness that everyone thinks he is, he wants to prove that the joints aren’t rusty, and his dementia isn’t giving him as many problems as before. He ought to be careful really, for a man that has built a career on being technical, he has to be careful that his own move names don’t get too technical for him. Let me tell you this now fella, you may think wonders of yourself, but the survival of the greatest shouldn’t be yours anymore, because you’re not that great. I watched you last week, at best you’re mediocre, essentially boy, you’re a B+ player.
This week boys, you can come into that match with all the nicknames you want, but two will leave with you, the Angel and the Demon."
Danny stands and runs, heading towards the car and jumps from the roof, landing smoothly on the floor, and starts heading towards Amber. He smiles as he sees her, obviously finished, leaning on her car. A drizzle of rainfall falling around her.
“Hey Amber, why don’t you ditch that piece of junk and come ride with me?”
Amber round on Ripper playfully.
“Fuck off Danny”
She vanishes into her own car and drives off, kicking a cloud of dust on the Shelby as she goes.
“That’s my girl.”
Danny turns, aims the rifle and shoots again, this time shattering the camera.
‘Nemo’ sung gorgeously by Tarja Trunenmen of Nightwish blares out the windows of the sleek 1965 Ford Shelby that races down the highway, not another soul in sight. As the car rolls past an arm is seen hanging from the window, draped in olive green and holding a cigarette. As the car streaks past the butt is flicked from the lonely arm, and strikes the camera lens dead and centre.
Inside the car Danny B careens along the deserted dusty road, his tinted sunglasses barely covering the smile on his face. Long roads, great car, rocking tunes. This was the life.
“And the think that sucks the most of course is that this will all have to come to an end when I roll into Shreveport on Monday and have to go to work. I’ve said a thousand times I love what I do, but I don’t always like the people I work with, my fucking lord that has never been truer than this week.
I mean fuck me, look at the basic level of it all. I have to deal with that little boy that thinks he’s worth something now because he spends exactly four hours and twenty two minutes every day with his nose shoved firmly up Gavin Reed’s ass.
Oh Noah, you and your little Messiah complex, we have a little problem at the moment don’t we? The sheer fact is you seem to have interjected yourself into a problem that me and your pimp seem to have. Not really the best move for someone who cannot get the job done, not without help anyway. So does it surprise me that you’ve teamed up with someone that you feel may be able to help you get through this tournament without actually having to do a lot? Nah not in the slightest, and you know what, fella, I know \we’re going into this thing at a disadvantage, after all you’ll have three men on your side, maybe more depending on how much TGO and Reed wanna screw around with the rules, but it won’t matter, it isn’t going to stop us from taking this match and running over it like a steam train at full power my friend, and you, you’re the unfortunate fucking soul that is tied to the tracks, nothing you can do about it.
I wonder if you’ve realised yet why your partner chose you Noah? I’m sure in your puny Irish mind you think it’s because you’re worth him teaming with you, but do be fucking serious for a moment would you? That old moron chose you because he knows in his mind that the chances of him actually wining this match, or indeed showing any kind of the level that he had a decade ago is slim and none. So therefore he picks someone that is likely to screw it up, and when the two of you lose he can blame you. That much is obvious. You’re a sacrificial lamb Noah, and I am the fucking executioner in this case. “
Danny looks through his shades down the long Californian road, leading to the meeting point that Amber Ryan had given him. He had no idea why she had picked such a place, or even why she wanted to see him, but he was gonna make the best of it.
“Besides, while I was down here I got a chance to go to Alex’s bar. I thought it would be appropriate considering that the show this week is in Shreveport, you know, Fangtasia, True Blood, filmed at that bar? My fucking God you people have no culture these days. Get Netflix for the love of Christ.”
Danny searched his glove box for another packet of smokes, it seems he finished the last one during the drive. As he leaned over, he was seen wearing olive drab all over, with medals and a lanyard in place, for all intents and purposes it looked like a cold war marines number ones. He sparks the new smoke and leans his arm out the window again.
“Noah I almost feel sorry for you, you’re involved in things you can’t handle, getting between me and Reed for one is stupid. It’s gone from just wanting to slap the silly cunt up a little for getting in my way, to now being an all-out war between me and you, and look Noah, I’m dressed for fucking war. But then you get one other thing you can’t handle, a partner that has as much bite as a rat after it’s had dental work. I would feel sorry for you if it wasn’t for the fact you’re my victim this week.
I’ve had a fair bit of stick over the last few weeks because I haven’t won every match I have been in, and you know, that’s far. I didn’t win the battle royal and I lost one hell of a match to Roach this past week, but frankly I was proud to lose that match, because that match was a show stealer, and if the fickle wrestling world hadn’t of been so into the mian event just because it had a title on the line it would have been the match of the week, but it wasn’t and that is that. Although it helps that one person in that match has about has much flavour to his personality as Guinness, tastes like crap and is full of shit.
That mistake will be rectified this week, because the difference between Noah and Roach, and the bug can take a hell of a beating, get up, take another, get up and then decide to fight back. Noah will shit in his pants, call for mummy cry to his partner and the blatant father figure he never had, both of which will tell him to pick his balls off the ground and just get the fuck on with it. There may be some disillusion between Amber and I, but at least we know it, and we at least know that we want that main event spot and will do everything in our power to get it, we don’t need to hide, because we can actually handle ourselves in that ring.”
In the distance an old fort comes into view, off to the side of a chapel. Danny kicks the engine up a notch and allows it to roar towards the seemingly abandoned area. The car rolls off the highway onto a dirt track, kicking stones and dust up as the old Shelby powers towards its destination, before long Danny sees a metallic jade car parked with a familiar red-head leaning upon it.
“Here we go.”
Danny stops the car dead, revs it a few times and allows it to roar up to an old Chevy, creating a cloud of dust as he does so. Danny stops, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window and takes off his shades before climbing out and slamming the door shut. As the dust settles he sees Amber Ryan, now standing straight up staring at him.
“What in the name of all that is decent are you wearing?”
“I thought I might embrace the location, besides I paid a pretty penny for this and I am going to get my money’s worth”.
“A pretty penny? I think you might have overpaid in that respect.”
“Do I sense a tone of jealousy Amber?”
“No you sense a tone of ‘you look utterly ridiculous’”
Danny shoots Amber a sarcastic look before moving around to the trunk of his car. As he lifts the boot a glittering British Lee-Enfield rifle stares back at him. Danny lifts the early 20th century weapon from the car, and slams his trunk down. The bang snaps Amber Ryan from her dream world, and she turns to find Ripper aiming the gun at her, fiddling with the sight.
“Is that real?”
Would you like to find out?”
“That would depend on if you’re going to keep pointing it at me.”
A smile creeps across the face of Danny B, not lowering the rifle, he watches through the sight as she turns her attention to the old warehouse, running her fingers across the dusty walls.
“Are you done playing with toys?”
The cold drawling sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed by Danny, but he decides of lifting the rifle and resting it on his shoulder regardless. He beckons towards the old door in front of them.
“After you my dear.”
Amber turns towards the door, seemingly contemplating it for only a moment, giving Danny enough time to brush past her with enough force that he felt her stumble, he didn’t look back however, as his next movement consisted of a swift boot to the old door, that came clean off its rusted old hinges, flew a few feet into the warehouse and crashed with an almighty clang on the floor.
Danny saunters in, swearing he could hear his tag partner mumbling behind him as he looked for a switch, he found it second later to the left of the door frame and flicked it, old industrial lights flickered into life. Danny took in the old smell of dust burning on the now luminescent ceiling, before heading across the old room and vanishing through one of the metal doors that stood about the place. It clanged loudly behind him as he walked through, finding another switch and taking in the room he had walked into, which seems to consist solely of abandoned machine parts. Even Ripper couldn’t quite stifle a laugh when he saw the brand name on what looked like an old printing press. ‘TGO’.
“Seems about right if you ask me, couldn’t really be more poetic could it? The Great One, stands again in an OCW ring, the man has history, he has a legacy, he’s a former champion here and round the world, in fact in his over ten year career he has managed to do half of what I have, that is almost impressive. However TGO stands for something very different, you may still refer to yourself as The Great One, but realistically, it stands for Trevor Got Old.”
Danny walks aimlessly around the room, rifle still over his shoulder, heavy boots clanging on the old floors. Trevor you have nothing left to give this company in that ring, you did your best work over the past few weeks wearing a suit and staying the fuck out of the way. This isn’t the glory days of OCW anymore, this is a new crowd, a new era, new faces, new arenas, new times. The one word I am using overly repetitively to make a point is new. You are not said word, in fat you describe the opposite, I mean fuck man, didn’t you used to have hair?
You have a lot in common with these old machines mate, in that at one point in their lives they were useful, probably the cornerstones of some companies, but now that stand forgotten, scrap, ready for the right person to come along and melt them down to make them something useful again, because they, like you, can never be what they once were, they will always be scrap. Dress ‘em up pretty and they might just have a different use, but they will never be great again.”[/color]
Danny lowers the rifle into position, aiming for an old light perched atop what looks like an old shoe maker, reminiscent of the one in Jumanji, and takes a shot. It flies true and to its purpose, smashing the old glass tumbler into a million tiny pieces. Danny walks back through to the original open room and sees a door open to his right, he walks through it, the sky above his head cloudier than before but still clear. He takes aim once again, and shoots the rifle, the bullet travels true, missing Amber Ryan, who Danny had spotted staring into the distance, her back turned to him, by a good ten feet. She snaps round a fire in her eyes, Danny lowers the rifle in response.
“What the actual fuck Danny?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, if I had wanted to hit you I would have done.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, I still need you to win this lottery tournament thing, afterwards we can find out just how good a shot I really am.”
Amber’s look of disgust tells Danny everything he needs to know. He watches as Amber walks off, past the cars and towards the old chapel he saw earlier. Ripper walked back into the old warehouse, noticing for the first time that the light above his head had gone out, he headed for the stairs instead this time, barely illuminated by the holes in the corrugated celling and the lights coming in through the doors. As he climbed he turned his head back and saw the TGO logo through the open door once again.
“Sometimes this must be like what it is to be in your mind eh mate? A lot of old shit that made you famous, but not a lot going on anymore. I have to say though, I swear there’s something in the water in Dallas, I think I’ll avoid it in future, you know that psycho bitch bag outside is a Dallas native too? Well she says she is, I still detect the odd Aussie inflection once in a while, but you know, she has an apartment and shit down there so whatever, but it does seem to produce some colossal A-holes, and Trev, mate, you lead that pack.
Everyone at the moment thinks they have one over on Dean because they have more money than him and can put it into the business, Carey has a financier, Gavin with his little golden belts and you with the TV deal. I don’t know if you noticed shit bag, but the cameras have been updated too, probably not, the reason that you managed to sign a TV deal could well have something to do with the HD camera’s that landed in Deans office recently, I wonder who the fuck did that?
See for some of us, what we do in the ring is way more important, we let our actions speak louder than words, I can’t imagine moving that big frame around for you is easy any more eh? I’ll being some oil, should help speed up those replacements you must have by now.”
Danny reaches the top of the stairs and spots an old hatch above his head, he pushes it open, and is greeted with the creeping grey sky forming above his head. Danny slings the rifle over his shoulder and pulls himself up onto the roof. He sits on some of the old corrugated iron, looking out towards the chapel in the distance.
“These two this week really make the name of tag team wrestling that much worse, they are less functional than we are, and that says a hell of a fucking lot.
See Amber and I, we do not see eye to eye. Partially because she’s a midget and partially because we have deep rooted hatred for each other. But as I said before, you can’t hate someone that much without loving them a little, and as much as she denies it, she feels the same way. But most importantly we have been through the ringer me and her, we’ve fought time and time again, and yes she has ONE clear victory over me, the very first, but since then we have not been able to prove which of us is better, in my mind we never will.
The important thing there, is that we know we are as near to equals as equals can be, and when we come to find who is better, we will do it one on one at the end of the month. We will not spend this match trying to prove we are better than the other, unlike Noah who wants nothing more than to prove that he can actually do something for himself these days, who needs to prove that he doesn’t need someone watching his back to make himself relevant. He needs to prove that even though he has been an outsider all his life, he isn’t now, that he means something, and he will happily do that at TGO’s expense.”
Danny pauses to take in the now rising wind that is lapping past him as he sits there.
“TGo has a lot to prove too, he needs to prove that he is not the ancient lord of darkness that everyone thinks he is, he wants to prove that the joints aren’t rusty, and his dementia isn’t giving him as many problems as before. He ought to be careful really, for a man that has built a career on being technical, he has to be careful that his own move names don’t get too technical for him. Let me tell you this now fella, you may think wonders of yourself, but the survival of the greatest shouldn’t be yours anymore, because you’re not that great. I watched you last week, at best you’re mediocre, essentially boy, you’re a B+ player.
This week boys, you can come into that match with all the nicknames you want, but two will leave with you, the Angel and the Demon."
Danny stands and runs, heading towards the car and jumps from the roof, landing smoothly on the floor, and starts heading towards Amber. He smiles as he sees her, obviously finished, leaning on her car. A drizzle of rainfall falling around her.
“Hey Amber, why don’t you ditch that piece of junk and come ride with me?”
Amber round on Ripper playfully.
“Fuck off Danny”
She vanishes into her own car and drives off, kicking a cloud of dust on the Shelby as she goes.
“That’s my girl.”
Danny turns, aims the rifle and shoots again, this time shattering the camera.