poly_chromatic | 030 x 030 // video (to catch a stripper) // reality stinks

Entry tags:

oc - carla morir

030 x 030 // video (to catch a stripper) // reality stinks

[ The video, uninterestingly enough, opens to nothing more than a closed door, the shadows of the crewmen shifting back and forth anxiously. After a moment, someone says,]

Ms. Morir has refused to speak to us, so the producers gone in to speak with her. Gonna switch to her lapel mic in a sec...

>We're only here to help you--
>>Stop talking.
>But Ms. Morir we have a therapist on--
>>If your therapist or your cameramen come in range of me, they're losing their teeth.

[The camera settles instead on a small woman in a very ugly pantsuit, she is labeled as Dr. Masifnads, she says in a bright, patient voice:]

It's not unusual for ritualistic self-harmers to be hostile to confrontation, we need to--

[The door opens and Carla gives the lot of them a disgusted look, exasperated with all of this.]

Get out of the way. [The camera zooms in.] Fucking move.

[There's really not a whole lot more reiteration of that before she's just kicking camera people to the floor.]

---

9:35 PM - Lusty Lady Plan B's Million Dollar Saloon

[A shadowy car filled with production staff is the first scene this time. The head producer, bearing a black eye and talking loudly into her phone is the current focus:]

Yes we followed her here, but Masifnads is refusing to have anything to do with it. What is she doing in there? Fuck if I know, it's the third titty bar she's hit, and she won't talk to us. [She glances at the camera with a frown.] Are you still filming this? Jesus. Fine. Come on, we're going in.

[The crew disembarks. Possibly a bit too eagerly, and none too stealthily, but they keep their distance from Carla, and even though she gives a threatening motion that involves their throats, she's quick to return her attention to the woman she's donating red coins to. She takes out her phone eventually, and someone with a lapel mic sneaks close enough that she can sort of be heard over the music.]

I've got her on tips, Bela, bring some cuffs and we'll drag her in.

[It's about then that the camera finally catches sight of the cowboy. So does Carla, and she frowns, stopping mid-sentence as he approaches the naked woman Carla's been watching. It appears she's not the only one who's managed to track this particular bail jumper down. And that just won't do. Carla gets on her feet to poke a finger in his chest, staring up at him.]

Back off.

[He smirks at her blandly and there's really not a whole lot more reiteration of that before she has a fist aimed at his face. All of the attention in the bar turns to them... except for their target, who realizes what they were after and makes a very swift exit.

Under their breath and caught by the mic, someone breathes out,]

This is gold.

DOES SHE COUNT AS A LADY, OR SHOULD SHE GET WHAT'S COMING TO HER?
VOTE NOW AT 1-800-BLAHBLAHBLAH

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Looks at her, looks at where their target (for lack of a better word) was, looks back at her.

He could hit her. But should he hit a lady? Does she even count as a lady?]

[Carla would vote no on the lady count. Her knee is going to collide somewhere unpleasant if he doesn't do something, I'm gonna tell you that.]

[Yeah? Well, he'd rather that not happen. 'Scuse him if he grabs for her wrist in an effort to...get this situation under control.]

[Sure, although that would mean she'd have to curl her hand around his wrist in kind, dipping her shoulder and yanking to roll his momentum over the curve of her back............ Sucks to be tall, Eastwood.]

[Well, right now it does. Over he goes--

But, on the other hand, now she's struck the first blow and he feels like anything he does is only retaliation. It's response in kind. It's fair.

And she's no lady.]