The Downward Spiral | SCP-878 & SCP-3784
3/9/202628 min
Listen ad-free + bonus stories with a 7-day FREE trial of SCP Premium. Cancel anytime. No commitment. This story is derived from The SCP Foundation Database and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z
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First 90 secondsSpeaker 00:00
[tense music] As someone who prided himself on his physical fitness, I insisted on doing as many of my own stunts as possible. It was part of the draw, and a big reason why I was box office gold. Of course, my charisma, chiseled jawline, and huge talent also helped. I had gone over this particular fight scene dozens of times with the stunt team. I knew my part, and I knew the parts of the stuntmen I was supposed to fight just as well. It's all part of the job, and I was really fucking good at my job, which was why when a face I didn't immediately recognize showed up on set just before the director called action, I was confused. The newcomer wasn't part of the stunt team. He hadn't choreographed anything with us, but he did look vaguely familiar. His sharp-cornered black mustache was almost as out of place as his black-and-white houndstooth slacks and matching vest over a long-sleeve white shirt. The script called for modern-day British gangsters in tracksuits and sweats. The set was an alley formed by shipping containers on an English port. This guy stuck out like a sore thumb, and he wouldn't stop staring at me as I limbered up. In past times, I would have snapped at him in front of the whole crew, asking what the fuck he was staring at,