"Make sure you get the blood in shot!" Cassandra shouts at her cameraman, a tired looking chap called Trevor. Trevor obligingly starts a sweeping shot from the pool of blood the firemen are hosing down, up Cassandra' legs and then focusses on her face.
Staring in disgust at him down the lens Cassandra says "You didn't just take a shot of me in these wellies did you? You really wouldn't be that fucking stupid would you Trevor?"
Without saying a word, Trevor starts the shot again. He starts with the firemen scrubbing the path, pans across the park, zooms in on a woman throwing fish back into the lake, zooms out again and focusses perfectly on Cassandra face.
"This is Cassandra Donahue live from Walsall arboretum, a place normally associated with tranquillity and quiet reflection. But not today, today that peace was shattered by . . . by. Shit, what are we calling this . . . this thing?"
Trevor sighs and stops recording, he was better than this. He dreamed of being on national news, maybe in a warzone, maybe in Washington or Hollywood, anywhere really other than regional broadcasting. Last week they had reported "live" from the scene of a mugging, a mugging that had happened two days previously and half a mile away.
Looking at Cassandra he grits his teeth, desperately trying to keep the mask of servitude in place. She has her phone clamped to her ear and is shouting at someone else for a change, "Well it needs a name!" There is a brief pause where Trevor guesses the poor sap on the other end of the phone tries to suggest something but gets shot down in flames. "Godzilla? Are you stupid? Are you fucking high? This is the news, this is real life you fucking moron."
She hammers at the red button on her phone, the twenty first century version of slamming the phone down. "I'm surrounded by fucking morons." She declares to the clouds as if god is listening.
"So what are we going with then?" asks Trevor.
The look Cassandra shoots him tells him, to keep his mouth shut and just keep the film rolling. He starts his shot again, panning over the debris and carnage, slipping in a brief deliberately out of focus shot of the fire engines strobing lights and then ending up once again on Cassandras face.
"This is Cassandra Donahue reporting live from Walsall arboretum, where the normal tranquillity has been shattered with reports of a dragon emerging from Hatherton Lake."
Cassandra stands statue still in her pose of professionalism for a few seconds before saying "fuck it, cut it there and we'll drop in the witness reports and their shitty mobile footage in later."
Trevor sighs knowing the "we'll" means him. He also knows that the "mobile footage" will gain more fame than anything he will ever shoot.
"Should have gone to film school." He mumbles to himself as he trudges back to the van.