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Author Topic: One Night in Vegas  (Read 400 times)

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One Night in Vegas
« on: October 02, 2014, 01:09:48 PM »
This video clip was received from a Mailinator account mere minutes ago. It appears to be compiled footage of multiple sources.

Some viewers may find the content of it somewhat disturbing. However, we have received approval to upload with a short disclaimer.

Viewer discretion advised: Disturbing, graphic content.



The stylized emblem of a gladiator’s helmet, instantly associated with the infamous SHOOT Project flickers against a black backdrop for a few seconds before disappearing.

Less than half a minute into the video clip, the black silence is broken with a muffled voice.

“Alright, lets get this thing rolling...”

Light replaces the void in a sudden movement, however it takes another few seconds for the image to settle. The medium for recording would likely be a bargain-basement digital camera or a phone – judging from the image quality of the footage and duration it takes to focus on the shot.

As the video quality gradually becomes clearer, the blurry outline of a man occupies the lens view – just out of focus. However, before his features or appearance can be ascertained, the view is immediately blocked with a palm; shaking the camera and obstructing the lens.

“Fucking put that thing away, it’s not showtime yet,” says an intimidating male voice before the recording abruptly cuts to black.


Within seconds, the clip progresses on to gray-scale footage of a convenience store - taken from what appears to be a fixed-position closed-circuit security camera. There is no audio, any action and movement in the recording takes place in complete silence to the viewer.

The cashier behind the counter appears to be serving a couple paying for their purchases. Their body language and movements appear to be atypical of couples in their better moments; relaxed, affectionate. The gentleman seems to be taking his sweet time in completing the transaction, peeling off bills slowly from his wallet while simultaneously chatting with the lady beside him.

Waiting behind them is a man wearing a hooded jumper; he appears to be constantly looking side-to-side while fidgeting with his pockets restlessly. He lingers in front of the counter, awkwardly rummaging through a display shelf as the couple previously in front slowly makes their way out of the store – arm-in-arm, chatting away with each other. 

Upon their departure, the man suddenly leaps behind the counter and strikes down the cashier. He removes an object from his pocket that resembles a handgun and points it at the cashier, who immediately cowers in fear. The man forcibly picks the cashier up with a hand by the scruff and forces him to open the cash register at gunpoint. As the cashier fumbles in his movements, presumably in a panic attack, the would-be robber strikes him in the head with a fist and forces the handgun against the side of his head. Finally, the cashier manages to get the cash register open and is promptly rewarded for his troubles with a forceful strike to the back of his head with the butt of the handgun.

The robber immediately goes through the motions of emptying the cash register, quickly stuffing his pockets with its contents. After delivering a few swift kicks to the downed cashier, likely out of spite or good measure, he leaps back over the counter and runs out of the convenience store.

For a few seconds, all that is visible on the footage is the downed cashier on the floor, an open cash register and an empty store. In a sudden development, a man comes crashing into the store through a plate-glass window. It appears to be the same individual who had violently robbed the store earlier, now seemingly the target of unexpected violence himself.

As the hooded convenience store robber rises to his feet, retrieving the handgun from his pocket, another man running into the store greets him with a swift kick to the head. This rapid action causes the robber to drop his firearm, reeling with pain from the sudden impact.

The man is tall, of solid built with dark hair sporting a black trench coat.  Kicking the handgun aside, he picks up the robber by his hair and assaults him with repeated punches to the face; before grabbing one of his shoulders with both hands to deliver a crippling knee strike to his sternum. Based on his movements in the footage, the assailant/would-be vigilante knew what he was doing, far from a run-off-the mill brawler or an average joe on the streets.

He follows the downed robber straggling backwards out of view as another man enters the shop, holding up what appears to be a phone – likely recording sudden turn of events as they transpired.

The recording immediately cuts to black – the silence interrupted with a solitary, audible beep.


The sound of heavy breathing is audible through a shot of broken glass stained by a trail of blood. As the camera pans upwards, the back of a man in a trench coat is immediately visible; the sound glass shrapnel being crushed under his boots is audible with each step he stakes.

He takes his time, the other man on the ground looks to be in no condition to put up any kind of resistance.

The man in the black trench coat grabs his victim by the hair again, lifting him up slowly as he groans weakly in pain. The victim sticks a hand into the pocket of his hooded jumper, retrieving a crumpled wad of cash.

“Here... take it...” said the injured man before receiving a devastatingly firm backhanded slap to the face that sends him back to the ground.

“Fuck your chump change,” says the assailant in the trench coat as reaches down to pick him up by the hair again, “I’m here for what you owe.”

The downed man, moments ago playing the aggressor; robbing the convenience store while assaulting the living daylights out of a helpless cashier at gunpoint. Now he finds himself in the exact same convenience store moments later, a victim of violent action and purposeful, clearly malevolent intent.

It would almost be poetic if it weren’t so tragicomic.

“What... the fuck?” he asks, taking a breath in between words to cough up and spit out a gobful of blood. The camera zooms in to focus on him. His face is heavily bruised from taking repeated punches, his eyes barely visible from between swollen eyelids. Broken nose, bleeding mouth – somebody who knew exactly what they were doing had worked him over real good.

“You fucking deadbeat,” replies the imposing man in the trench coat. The camera zooms out and pans upwards to focus on him, his facial features barely visible in a silhouette against the light source. The assailant continues, “You’ve leeched off that many, you’ve forgotten who you owe money to, don’t you?”

The downed robber raises a hand to beg him off, attempting to plea something in his defense but before he’s given an opportunity to speak; his assailant grabs firm hold of the hand and wrenches it back, causing the failed robber to groan weakly in pain.

As he tightens his grip on the hand, he grabs hold of the little finger with another hand and slowly bends it where it’s not meant to be bent...

“This little piggy went to the market...” he says before suddenly snapping the bone. The weak groaned instantly turned to a scream. The camera zooms in to the finger, a bit of bone is sticking out in a sickening sight.

“Holy shit, I think I’m going to throw up,” says a meek voice off-camera, presumably from the individual recording the entire incident. As the camera begins to move away, an arm SHOOTs out towards it, grabbing hold of the cameraman and steadying him.

“YOU...” said the trench-coat assailant in a stern voice that threatened further malice, “...are NOT going anywhere,” before jerking the hand holding up the camera towards him. His face is now in clear view, front and center. The face is Asian, likely Chinese, with dark eyes, hair and fair complexion. There is hardness to his look, as if bespeaking a lifetime of experience in inflicting pain and violence. One corner of his lip turns upwards in a cynical smirk, the malevolence clear in his expression.

“My name is Maximilian Wu, and you’re not going to like me very much,” he introduces himself.

There is no anger or aggression in his voice, only calm, almost methodical yet unsettling intent. He allows the camera to stay on his face for a few seconds before pushing the cameraman backwards. The view shakes for a moment before stabilizing as the cameraman regains his balance after stumbling backwards.

Maximilian turns his attention back to the now sniveling failed robber-turned-debtor on the ground. “Please....” he pleaded but only receives a grin in response, which isn’t a good sign.

As he grabs hold of another finger, Maximilian appears to ponder his actions for a moment before releasing it. He takes a step backward, still firmly gripping on to the hand with the broken pinky finger.

“You know what, fuck the little piggies,” he said before stomping the man on the ground and twisting the entire arm straight.

“No... NO... PLEASE GOD NO! he pleads out of desperation but it clearly falls on deaf ears.

Maximilian cocks his arm back slightly, it’s clear what he is about to do.

“Holy shit...” says the camera-man, out of view.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” screams the downed man as the fist lunges forward towards the straightened elbow.

The recording abruptly cuts off to black.

All that’s left is the sound of something breaking.

Followed by the screaming crescendo.