Slowly, the scene opened into an enclosed, brick walled area in Berkeley, California. The night was dark, cold. The wind, that that could penetrate inside of the area, was chilled . . . a teeth chatterer for those in the weather unprotected.
Quickly, the scene faded lower into the area. A garbage can, flames burning low inside of it, sat in the center of the area. The dim light that it gave off shown the area; splintered crates, a shattered table, items of trash laying on the ground. The light helped illuminate that alley . . . the alley of Gilman Street.
The scene quickly shifted. A man, sitting against a corner of the inside of the alley. Closed eyes . . . the facial piercings . . . the spiked green hair . . . the tattoos running down his right arm . . . the faded Anarchy t-shirt and the frayed calf-length shorts . . . the small light of the fire helped illuminate the figure. The figure, the man . . . Zero.
Quickly, the view cut to a clip from a week ago. Zero, outside of his apartment . . . rushing to his Blazier. Opening the door in total disregard for quietness in the cold night in Berkeley. Digging, throwing, shuffling . . . in search of something inside of his Blazier. Going through papers, clothes . . . in search, of something very dear to him. Something that he thought had been in his Blazier.
The clip faded out into another clip. A clip from just a week ago. Johnny Treacherous . . . sitting on his couch, sharing his views on Zero. And, suddenly . . . his blatant confession of theft. Pulling a box of tapes out . . . holding up CD's . . . recalling on the picture beside the speedometer . . . Treacherous, showing his true colors and roots, in an attempt to get under the skin of Zero. And, something that appeared to of worked.
The clip quickly faded out, back into the clip of Zero, sitting inside of his Blazier. Zero grabbed the papers in his passenger seat . . . lifting them . . . and the tape, HIS tape, was gone. Stolen. By Johnny Treacherous.
Zero screamed out in anger as he grabbed an empty CD case, throwing is across the parking lot. The case shattered, echoing throughout the parking lot. But Zero, sitting inside of his Blazier, didn't care. What was there to care about? Another possession . . . another item . . . another *piece* of his life . . . stolen right out from underneath him.
The view shifted from Zero, sitting, angry, in disarry, and focused in on a picture. A picture, right beside the speedometer of Zero's Blazier. The view came in closer of it . . . a picture of a woman . . . the woman from Zero's past. But slowly, the clip faded out.
From there, the scene faded back in; back, into the alley. The fire in the garbage can gave off a sufficiant amount of warmth in the cool night air. The low flames, giving off dancing shadows on the walls of the alley. Shadows, that passed back and forth across Zero's face, as he sat, his eyes closed, against a wall of the alley.
But as his eyes were closed, rest was not the motive. For, how can one truly find rest, when the very nature of existence, is controlled by emotions that do not permit an escape into a subliminal conscious for a few hours? No, while his eyes were closed, he was not resting. Rather, he was thinking . . . the only thing left to do, in order to find a way out of a situation . . . his situation.
Slowly, the scene faded. It gave way to a clip. Treacherous, sitting on his couch, watching the infamous tape in which Zero had been forced to vacate the HEW Hardcore Title, tell Karen his, what he hoped to be, merely temporary goodbyes, and tell J-Smooth what had happened in his life.
But, as Treacherous watched the tape, it was a source of enjoyment for the man. The enjoyment of one man's life which had been rediculed, beaten on, kicked around, and spit at . . . Treacherous, watching Zero show his true emotions as he spoke into the camera. And Treacherous, showing no remorse in his theft. In his ways of stealing a tape, the tape, that meant so much to Zero. It was almost all he had left.
Quickly, another clip faded in. Zero, walking backstage from last Tuesday's Hell Of A Show. Walking the back halls, heading to his locker room . . . when suddenly, he saw the box waiting at his door. The box full of VHS tapes.
Grabbing the box and carrying it inside, Zero had went through each tape in the VCR in his locker room, only to be greated with a message by Treacherous. A message, taunting Zero. Showing him little of where the tape actually was. Infuriating Zero, as Zero threw each tape that was a dud across the room, shattering it on the concrete walls.
As he came to the last one . . . which was simply another decoy, Zero grabbed it, slamming the door open, and walked off into the unknown of the back halls.
Slowly, the clip faded. And the darkness reappeared, slowly, allowing the light of the fire to shine back through as the scene once again returned to the alley. The shadows, caused by the flames,continued to bounce around the brick walls. The warmth, while small, was just enough to keep Zero at peace, as he sat, eyes closed, against the alley wall.
The scene shifted to an overhead shot. Right above the alley, looking down at the fire in the garbage can, the view roamed. It gave a clear view of the outline of the alley, from the front of it, to the narrow, dark hall, right before the turn into the main area of the alley, where the fire was lit, and where Zero sat . . . .
And slowly, the view settled back down into the alley. Settling, on a shot of Zero. His profile, with the fire in the garbage can burning in the background. The shadows bouncing around, casting weird shadows across Zero's face. The light reflected off of his eyebrow ring, and, his lip ring, as, eyes still closed, he began to speak.
" When someone asks, where did you come from, what do you reply? You tell them where you grew up. When someone asks, what did you do while you were growing up, what do you reply? You show them your school, or your home . . . or your juvinelle hall. When someone asks, what did you do with your life once you grew up, what do you reply? You show them your job, or your awards, or other flamboyant items that are supposed to mean something when actually, they have no worth on the rest of your life. "
Zero
Slowly, Zero's eyes opened, staring straight ahead. Staring into the direction of the winding, dark tunnel that is the entrance to the alley. The view was still on the right profile of his face, but Zero was staring straight ahead.
Blinking once, he began to speak again.
" But what if, what the person has done with their life, DID rest on one of those flamboyant items? What if, all they had accomplished in life, was actually represented in that item? What if? What if . . . that was their life?
Zero
" A tape. Casually dismissed in society as easily replacable. One is destroyed, there are three more waiting to be used. They are as expendable as soldiers used in the country's leader's game of war. A statistic that doesn't truly show what everything meant. Maybe the soldier had a fun personality. Maybe he had a family he loved. Maybe he was three days away from going home . . . only to be lost in war. But, no loss . . . he was just a soldier, right? Replaced by someone coming out of bootcamp in two weeks.
" Well, maybe the tape that is looked at as replacable at any given moment, the tape that is expendable, had characteristics on it that can never be replaced, either. Not everyone makes duplicates, and there are treasures awaiting some people on tapes that are stored away in an attic. "
Slowly, Zero began to turn his head to the side, looking directly into the view. Hie eyes shown that of stress. His forehead, creased with strain and weariness of the thinking and battling that had been going on inside of his head. His expression, low, weary, while showing a full range of concern for what he was saying at that moment. It was obviously something that had been weighing down on him for some time now.
Slowly, looking off in a strained glare, he once again began to speak.
" When Treacherous took that tape, he took more than a piece of plastic that protects connected film. He took memories. He took emotions, thoughts of my past. And, he took the last link I have to me and Karen. For, it was HaVoC who took the girl, but it was Treacherous who took the memories that I was able to keep a handle on.
Zero
" But, I think it goes further than that. Further than what he originally thought possible. While he may think that he is simply trying to extract revenge on me for denying him the honor of me in Murder Inc, it does in fact go further than that. While the tape was my link to memories, it was also a link to my past. A past that I had almost been able to overcome. Almost . . . until that day.
" Treacherous thinks that I cannot accept who I am, while he expects us to believe that he is happy and satisfied, and accepts the way he is. But the fact is, I do accept who I am. This is who I am. And, that tape served as a reminder to me of who I am, what I was, and as a link to what I will become.
" But, let's take a look back into both of the pasts. Treacherous', and mine. The boy known once as Lint Douglas . . . only to go by his given name of Zero at the age of 14.
" Treacherous talks about how he lived on the streets. Hoe he done what it took to survive. How . . . he would go to any means possible in order to get money. Whether it meant stealing it from anyone there was with money, or to go as far as being a dealer on the streets, offering the never ending addictions to people to who ever there was with the most money. That is not surviving on the street. That is working the street. "
Slowly, Zero reached into his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. Only two left. He pulled one out, lighting it, then tossed the box onto the ground beside him.
As the smoke surrounded him, Zero glanced around. The alley. the most familiar place that he had ever known growing up, and living, and even after he had reached adulthood. And still, the full circle was spinning, as he was still back in the alley. Not out of no other choice, but out of comfort. Not physical, but the emotional comfort that the alley had always provided him while growing up as the orphaned child that no one liked.
Inhaling a quick drag, he slowly blew the smoke out. Gazing, off, non-direct, he began to speak once again.
" While Treacherous worked the streets, gaining what he could off of those unable to control the compulsiveness of their addictions, I worked my tolerance in order to survive. I wouldn't use people in order to get what I wanted. While growing up, I had been used, picked on, and abused by the older people. Knowing how it feels, I could never bring myself to be one of those people. All I wanted was someone, someone, who would be there. Someone who could offer that support while I was growing up. But it never came. False illusions came my way . . . Simon never was true. But nothing concrete ever passed my way.
Zero
" When I was 14, at the peek of the constant harrassment by the older kids . . . their slanted opinions of me, their mocking tones in how they referred to me . . . it was then that I couldn't take it any longer. I fought back one day, surprising everyone. No one expected me, Lint Douglas, to one day stand up for myself. They all considered me the kid who was the sure fire way to release some frustration on. Until that day . . .
" From then on, I fought. No one would take advantage of me. No one would ever take a cheap advantage over me because I didn't have the upbringing that they did. No one was going to use me. I was going to make sure of that. And it worked. No one used me after that. But, no one would even talk to me after that, either. They weren't sure of what I might do. This monster that they created had gone out of control . . . he had finally took control over his own life, and they didn't know what to do.
" But, who can you trust, when no one has ever been trustworthy? Who could I trust after that? I could trust no one. No one trusted me. The only thing that I could trust . . . was this alley. It has been the only thing that has never turned on me. And, in retrospect, I will never turn on it . . . I will never abandon and deface it. It was, and still is, a home to me. And in return, I only offer my thanks to this home, for it helped me through my life. "
Inhaling another drag of his cigarette, Zero glanced around at the alley that surrounded him. The walls . . . chipped, yes . . . but unable to perform it's duty anymore? No. It was still his true home. It was the place that he had turned to as a kid growing up on Gilman Street in Berkeley when he needed to think. When he needed to consult and confront his inner demons, it was the alley in which he would turn. No one would ever come into the alley, except for Zero. And, that, was the pawn that he held that no one would ever be able to take away from him.
" The tape that Treacherous stole. The tape in which all of my childhood afflictions . . . all of my childhood personal triumphs . . . all of my conquests and acheivements, acheivements on my own personal goal list . . . they were all represented on that tape. For, connected to everyone of those memories, is this alley. And, what the police were trying to do, was take away the one thing that I thought no one would be able to take away from me. My home.
Zero
" They framed me, they blamed me . . . they accused me of a murder. Something that I know I would never do, but who else is there to believe my story? Who else truly knows me enough to realize when I speak from my heart? For, people only know what I choose to let them know about me. What has anyone done for me that deserves the honor of me telling them how I really feel? Nothing . . .
" Except for one person. Karen. She believed in me. She could see how I felt about things. She knew me. I didn't have to tell her everything. She had the instinct to know things. She has been the only person to ever truly understand me and what I believe in. But, now she's . . .
" It all falls back onto the tape. Inside of that tape, is the worst period of my life, but at the same time, the greatest moment. In the tape, I had just been accused of a murder. In the tape, I was having to tell Karen good-bye. But, also, in that tape, looking past what happened in that tape, I overcome the circumstances. I prooved that I didn't commit the crime. I was found innocent in court. The evidence was against me, but the truth shown through.
" And that tape serves as an acheivement in my life. I had everything against me, but I wouldn't back down. They weren't going to take me without a fight, and there was no way they would lock me up as an innocent man. And that, was the greatest moment of my life. All of the emotions expressed in the tape. The feelings, the feelings that I can still feel to this day, are represented in the tape. But the satisfaction of showing everyone wrong shines through in the conclusion of the tape.
" Treacherous may think that he has my tape . . . my own treasure in the attic, but he won't hold it for long. No one takes the greatest moments of my life away from me. And, if I have to die trying to take back what was stolen, at least I can tell myself . . . I wouldn't back down. He could throw everything against me, knock me down, but I'll come right back. And then . . . the satisfaction of showing Treacherous wrong, will shine through in the end. "
Taking a large drag of his cigarette, Zero flipped the remainder of what was left into the slow burning fire. Exhaling the smoke into a large cloud surrounding him, Zero stood up. He looked around at the alley, his home. Grabbing a hooded sweatshirt off of a crate stacked in the corner, Zero slid it on, and began his walk. His walk down through the twist of the alley, out to Gilman Street . . . to take back his memories.
midi: "Infected" by Bad Religion
