
Gerard Butler arrives on the scene. He stands on one of the dunes with his gun out like a rock hard cock. He surveys the landscape, and then jogs into the line of fire. He disappears from our eye line. A few seconds pass. An explosion sends a bloom of sparks and dirt our way. The ricochet is loud. It is all over within a couple of minutes. A stinky, electrical smoke fills the air. A moment passes.
While we get a tutorial on the camera, an effects technician drags a big plastic bag full of blood down into the center of the racetrack. He hides it in a barrel. They are gearing up to run through another few seconds of action. This time, it will be shot from a different angle. "Quite on the set!" rings throughout the compound, which is lit up like the Manhattan Project. A group of Genericons sit, watching from the lit up bleachers. They are prison inmates with lesser sentences. They are reminiscent of the background folks you might find wandering around in Second Life. 