Lochlyn Cade and Camp Blood

[Lochlyn Cade]

Lochlyn Cade and Camp Blood The darkness of night envelopes the scene, it’s only with a pair of headlights in the distance, between a row of trees, that the viewers are clued into a location. The camera steadily begins panning until it settles on a rather large pile of wooden logs. They are tilted upwards as if someone had began building a miniature tepee. A rustling of leaves can be heard nearby as a shadowed figure in the night strikes a match. The logs are ignited and the flames begin to engulf the wood as they begin to crackle and pop in defiance of the heat. “July 30th Johnny Sniper stepped between the ropes of a SWAT wrestling ring against a typical professional wrestler, David Vector, knowing pretty much what to expect. It could have been just about any match on any given night. Congratulations Johnny Boy, you did your job, like the good little solider you represent. Johnny Sniper is the prototypical military man that most would envision; combat boots, dog tags, and a taste for war. A sniper marksman who depicts life and death with the simple squeezing of a finger. He was the silent assassin, a seeker of death, and now professional wrestler.” He’s soft spoken, almost serene, as he casually steps into view. He momentarily ignores the camera as he warms his hands by the fire before finally turning his attention. “Oh, hi, I’m Lochlyn Cade; The Promethean. We haven’t met yet, have we? That’s okay you’ll be seeing a lot of me in the future. That’s unfortunate for those of the Northern Pro roster and great for you, the fans. Now, where was I? Ahh. That’s right. August 13th where Johnny Sniper looks to bring violence and death to the ring of Northern Pro Wrestling. It’s the Johnny Sniper Tour of Duty. Honor is where I, Lochlyn Cade, and Johnny Sniper come together in a sort of proxy war. His representing of SWAT and I equally represent that of NPW.” His eyes are lit by fire, smoke, and command a certain about of attention from the viewer. “Look at me, already the symbolization of everything Northern Pro and Johnny the ever so present antagonist, or something like that. I may have gotten those roles slightly reversed. I guess I could be the antagonist and him the lowly hero charging the beaches of Normandy. I am not an interpretation of war, Johnny Boy. The Promethean also doesn’t fiddle or dally in… what did the XHF News say in early July… Oh, exhibition matches…” The tone of his voice betrays his contempt. “Johnny, you’ve become the lamb that’s being led to slaughter… in the name of exhibition. You’ve been betrayed by your beliefs of what is professional wrestling and what is still, war. I’ve never been the prototypical professional wrestler. Despite the best efforts of my own father, or that of any self imposed mentor, who have unsuccessfully tried to bestow their beliefs of the sport you now find yourself representing. I’ve always characterized myself as a nihilistic guy. The guy that rejects the moral principles of the sport, or those that follow the religion of wrestling.” The view changes to that of a slightly wider aerial depiction of the scene. Lochlyn Cade is shown standing in the center of several cabins and a dock extended into a lake. The scene shows striking similarities to a certain film series with grisly murders. “Camp Blood.” The words though surprising are coldly stated without emotion. The scene again changes to the tighter shot of Lochlyn Cade. He’s now wearing a familial mask that he’s worn several times in his career, that of slasher cinema antagonist Jason Voorhees. “I stand here at the aptly named Camp Blood or as most of you will better recall Camp Crystal Lake of the Friday the 13th franchise. It’s already become intertwined with the career of the Blood Harvester, me, Lochlyn Cade. My crave of blood brings me to the doorstep of a Johnny Sniper open challenge. Johnny Boy, you’ve given parts of life for country, for freedom, and in the name of honor. Those sacrifices weren’t made for accolades nor for fame, sacrifices rarely are. I’ve never been a solider Johnny. I’ve never had to make a life uttering decision in the streets of a foreign country. I’ve never had to carry a folded flag to a crying mother who lost her only son. I’ve never been that guy nor will I ever.” Lochlyn Cade reaches up and removes the mask adorned upon his head. He slowly turns it towards the camera and reveals that it contains a black and white photo of a solider. The edges worn, torn, by the passing of years. “My family knows the wages of war and that of sacrifice. I don’t take your life decisions lightly nor should you take mine. It’s been no less violent I assure.” He lifts the mask and looks through the eyes of a cold blooded Hollywood killer. “I was born for the cruelty of wrestling violence John Boy. I’ve bathed in the blood of competition. I’ve risked life and limb for something as simple as victory. This isn’t uncharted territory for me John. I’ve pushed my body, my mind, past the social norms of your typical wrestler. One might even say I have a perversion for the atrocities of wrestling that most would shy away from. Unfortunately, John, you’re running the gauntlet of open challenges; the Johnny Sniper Tour of Duty. You’re internal apprehension must have warned you to tread carefully. Yet, you ignored that feeling of trepidation. That is ultimately going to be your end, at least in Northern Pro.” His words become even softer. “Despite the mask, the location, or the undertones. This is no Hollywood movie and there will be no orchestra playing music as the tension builds to a finale. Our story is more tangible than that. Welcome to Camp Blood Johnny.” His hand slashes a machete towards the camera. End.

© 'The Promethean' Lochlyn Cade | 'Blood Harvestor' Serpentis Redd