(S2) - PT #4 - Primetime

[Gwdaja]

The night is quiet. Nothing around in an empty alleyway. But faintly we hear the beginnings of a musical rush...it's low and far off..but then it CLASHES into an intro. DARLANE FARLANE, shirtless, wearing sweatpants, dreads draping over his shoulders, jumps into our view, splashing into a puddle. This is a new NSFL intro -- one which hasn't been heard before. The sounds are wild and foreign. There aren't any words, just raging electronic production. And each change of key, each hi-hat, each bass drop, each change of tempo, is matched by the refined movements of Darlane Farlane, his rippling muscles twitching under the moonlight. He dances toward the camera, until we see a line of TRASH CANS in front of him. The music halts for a moment, as does he, right in front of the metal bins. Then, in a swift motion, he starts playing them LIKE DRUMS with his DREADLOCKS. It's an insane solo. Each individual dread, dirtied and thick, whacks the metal lids of each can. BUM bum bum BUM. Pow POW. BAM BAM BAM. It's a fucking raucous cacophony. Nothing else in the universe matters except for this solo. Bam bam BAM pow pow POW. The dreads swing in a circular motion, then plow DOWN onto the hard tops of the cans. The sweat flings off his hardened back. The drops fly off his face. The beat and electronics rhythms haven't been heard for nearly two minutes as the solo continues. It builds and it builds, rising in the echoes of the alley, until finally the electro-fusion rejoins the trash can beat-down and surges into a beautiful explosion. Darlane CRASHES through the trash cans, knocking them over, exploding into an impromptu 40-yard dash down the alley way. It's laser timed - and as the song comes to a close - he crosses the line, shattering the combine record. Let the god damn NSFL games begin. Dear god I need to rethink my life.

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