London sewers?”
“Yeah, was it Tom Baker’s Doctor?” Roddy chose his angle carefully and took a couple of shots with a diffuser over his flash. Still the rats were unperturbed. “Protecting some crackpot professor’s underground laboratory.” He tilted the LCD screen of the camera towards Steve. They had to turn off the lights on their helmets to see the images properly. From the angle he’d taken the pictures, it looked like one of the rats was feeding off the body of the doll. They had a chuckle and turned their helmet lights back on.
“Excellent,” said Steve. “Let’s roll cameras and get some VT. I’ll be back in a sec.” He climbed ten feet up an exit ladder next to a manhole, where he could hear the sounds of Brixton Market – the music and the haggling over prices – and wrapped an arm inside a rung. His mobile phone registered a signal, and he texted ‘Brixton. Found sewer monster! CU 1 hour’ to his wife before climbing back down.
Roddy had put away his SLR and taken out his video camera. He plugged a small stereo mic into the jack on the side. They’d learnt the hard way that flowing water masks sounds, making a mic essential if they wanted the viewer to hear anything but the white noise of the water. He handed the mic to Steve, threading the wire through his fingers carefully so that it didn’t dip into the filthy water. His companion pocketed his torch, turned his helmet light off again and took his position in shot in front of the rats. Roddy’s helmet light was now their only source, and it shone on Steve and the rats. “Take one,” said Roddy. “I’ll pull out from the rats, right?”
The camera bleeped as it started recording. He zoomed in on the rats, pulled out and up to include Steve and waved a finger to signal that his friend was in shot.
“Here in Brixton, the only monsters you’ll find in the sewers this weekend are the rats,” said Steve. “But they’re not as big and dangerous as the fat cats that stalk the Square Mile of the City to the north. This is Steve Cox reporting for Underground London.” He held his position for a couple of seconds. He heard the bleep as the camera stopped recording. “How was that?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t it be here under Brixton?”
“You’re such a pedant. And so am I. Let’s go again.”
Roddy set the shot up for another take. The camera gave a bleep . Roddy panned out then waved his finger to signal that Steve was in shot again.
“Here under Brixton –”
“Sorry. Could you maybe say ‘Beneath Brixton’? Nice alliteration.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ready, Roddy?” He could see his friend was looking at the camera’s LCD display.
“Damn it.”
“What?”
“The rats have gone.”
Steve looked down. “They’ve left their meat.”
“Must’ve had enough.” The camera bleeped as Roddy turned it off.
“I know how they feel. Let’s have a gander at that first take. I can always do something on just the doll.” They huddled together over the camera. “Turn your bleedin’ head light off, will you? I can’t see the screen.”
Roddy let out a sigh of irritation and turned off the light on his helmet. The three-inch LCD screen on the camera lit them up with a bluish glow, but beyond that the tunnel was pitch black.
Whilst Roddy fiddled with the menu, Steve reached around behind his friend and tapped him on the side of the shoulder.
Roddy jumped. “Oh, ha-bloody-ha,” he said. “If I drop this, you pay for it, pal.”
Roddy found the Play button and pressed it. The image zoomed out slowly from the rats to reveal Steve looking into the camera.
“Shush!” said Roddy. “I can’t hear the sound with you horsing around.”
“It’s not me,” said Steve.
Roddy felt a tap on his shoulder. “I told you to –” He looked at Steve. His friend was looking just behind him, his face frozen in horror. “What –”
Something wet slid into Roddy’s mouth. He tried to scream but his mouth was stuffed with
“Yeah, was it Tom Baker’s Doctor?” Roddy chose his angle carefully and took a couple of shots with a diffuser over his flash. Still the rats were unperturbed. “Protecting some crackpot professor’s underground laboratory.” He tilted the LCD screen of the camera towards Steve. They had to turn off the lights on their helmets to see the images properly. From the angle he’d taken the pictures, it looked like one of the rats was feeding off the body of the doll. They had a chuckle and turned their helmet lights back on.
“Excellent,” said Steve. “Let’s roll cameras and get some VT. I’ll be back in a sec.” He climbed ten feet up an exit ladder next to a manhole, where he could hear the sounds of Brixton Market – the music and the haggling over prices – and wrapped an arm inside a rung. His mobile phone registered a signal, and he texted ‘Brixton. Found sewer monster! CU 1 hour’ to his wife before climbing back down.
Roddy had put away his SLR and taken out his video camera. He plugged a small stereo mic into the jack on the side. They’d learnt the hard way that flowing water masks sounds, making a mic essential if they wanted the viewer to hear anything but the white noise of the water. He handed the mic to Steve, threading the wire through his fingers carefully so that it didn’t dip into the filthy water. His companion pocketed his torch, turned his helmet light off again and took his position in shot in front of the rats. Roddy’s helmet light was now their only source, and it shone on Steve and the rats. “Take one,” said Roddy. “I’ll pull out from the rats, right?”
The camera bleeped as it started recording. He zoomed in on the rats, pulled out and up to include Steve and waved a finger to signal that his friend was in shot.
“Here in Brixton, the only monsters you’ll find in the sewers this weekend are the rats,” said Steve. “But they’re not as big and dangerous as the fat cats that stalk the Square Mile of the City to the north. This is Steve Cox reporting for Underground London.” He held his position for a couple of seconds. He heard the bleep as the camera stopped recording. “How was that?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t it be here under Brixton?”
“You’re such a pedant. And so am I. Let’s go again.”
Roddy set the shot up for another take. The camera gave a bleep . Roddy panned out then waved his finger to signal that Steve was in shot again.
“Here under Brixton –”
“Sorry. Could you maybe say ‘Beneath Brixton’? Nice alliteration.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ready, Roddy?” He could see his friend was looking at the camera’s LCD display.
“Damn it.”
“What?”
“The rats have gone.”
Steve looked down. “They’ve left their meat.”
“Must’ve had enough.” The camera bleeped as Roddy turned it off.
“I know how they feel. Let’s have a gander at that first take. I can always do something on just the doll.” They huddled together over the camera. “Turn your bleedin’ head light off, will you? I can’t see the screen.”
Roddy let out a sigh of irritation and turned off the light on his helmet. The three-inch LCD screen on the camera lit them up with a bluish glow, but beyond that the tunnel was pitch black.
Whilst Roddy fiddled with the menu, Steve reached around behind his friend and tapped him on the side of the shoulder.
Roddy jumped. “Oh, ha-bloody-ha,” he said. “If I drop this, you pay for it, pal.”
Roddy found the Play button and pressed it. The image zoomed out slowly from the rats to reveal Steve looking into the camera.
“Shush!” said Roddy. “I can’t hear the sound with you horsing around.”
“It’s not me,” said Steve.
Roddy felt a tap on his shoulder. “I told you to –” He looked at Steve. His friend was looking just behind him, his face frozen in horror. “What –”
Something wet slid into Roddy’s mouth. He tried to scream but his mouth was stuffed with
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