#killkam

Date night was pleasant. Xero took me to a nice steak house. It was one of those new-age "organic compounds" where the cows don't get injections, so on the one hand I was kind of skeeved out by the idea of a bunch of viruses and parasites, but on the other it reminds me of the stories Nana used to tell about life before the Cure. When a quarter-pound burger didn't cost $36, not including cheese, and water was free.

I didn't get the burger, it was just the cheapest thing on the menu.

So the food was okay, the conversation was actually pretty nice, but it was the entertainment that did it for me. The owner has a KillKam license, the only one in the area, and Orion was out in force last night. It was mesmerizing. It reminded me of going to Xero's matches: bloody, raw, primal. I could see the fear in the hunted's eyes. I think that's what I enjoy most - watching the life flicker out, like a flame snuffed under a glass jar.

It's better than going to the movies. The actors want to be there; they volunteer, their families are given thousands of dollars for their deaths. Even the guys Xero used to fight were going into the ring knowing there was a chance they wouldn't make it out. Yeah, people die, but it's staged. I don't know how audiences used to sit through slasher films knowing it was all fake, that the blood was corn syrup and food coloring and camera trickery.

The KillKam? That shit was real. Intense. One of the Orion guys snuck up on this old dude and just smashed his head in like it was nothing, big dent and all. I'm pretty sure I saw brain matter clinging to his white hair. Red on white, the harshest juxtaposition. Some say it's black on white, but let's be serious, red in this day and age only means blood. Blood of the infirm, the handicapped, the elderly... The elderly.