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“Are food products without sugar and with virtually no calories really that good for your health? A recent study implies that artificial sweeteners are pointless.”

Footage is shown of stacks of diet soda, then to a pack of Sweet’N Low being torn open over a cup of steaming black coffee.

“Controversial opinions are being brought forward that artificial sweeteners are as bad for you as natural sugar.”

In front of a dark blue desk with three horizontal lines of white light stripes stands a man in a dark blue suit. Underneath the blazer of this average built man the torso is dressed with a dark grey shirt and a black tie. The background of the set is light blue with a hint of cloudy white patterns.

“Are consumers being misled? The FDA is reluctant to give a reaction on the issue.” The hispanic suave looking man with a pompadour hairstyle continues.

“Even one line of thought goes as far suggesting that especially saccharin can be the cause of cancer. In Europe this substance is still allowed to be used in the creation of sweeteners.”

A switch is made to a larger view. From a diagonal angle to the man and the desk in all their tacky cacophony of blue tints the camera zooms in on the torso and head of the anchor.

“Hello. I am Manuel Hermanos and you’re watching… Beyond the Report.” After a smug smile Manuel treads around the desk and sits down. The camera perfectly follows the man as if it is tracking the bright sparkling front teeth.

“In the studio we have an expert on nutrition,…”

From the right a slender Caucasian woman with light-brown hair walks towards the desk and takes a seat at the other end.

“Miss Nicole Fairchild. Hello Miss Fairchild.”

“Good morning, thank you for having me.”

Manuel leans forward a bit propping his right elbow on the desk. Making a fist he begins.

“Miss Fairchild, what I found interesting in this study is the report of Hank Annbaum that the human brain can’t distinguish between real sugar and fake sugar. Why would that be an issue I wonder?”

Adjusting the epaulettes of her light-grey sleeveless dress, she responds.

“Well mister Hermanos, while our conscious mind can distinguish the difference between regular soda and diet soda by taste, our brain gets triggered the same by our taste receptors. If you don’t take in enough sugar our brain is programmed to releases hormones to regulate the blood sugar level and blood pressure. When our brain is triggered to signal that we took in sugar… or… euhm… sweetness I should say, those hormones are repressed. The sweet taste of artificial substances will tell our brain to not release the hormones while our body in fact needs them.”

The woman briefly stops talking looking to her right, startled by some commotion at the other end of the studio. She turns back to face the host and continues.

“This can have a very negative effect on people that suffer from…”

From far away a male voice barely can be heard. “We got to cut here.”

Manuel Hermanos squints his eyes trying to locate the source of the voice in the darker part of the large room. He tries to protest.

“What. Why….”

Blackness suddenly pops up all over the screen. Some technical sounds are heard.

“Boooooooooop. Bop. Bip.” Then about ten seconds of silence.

“It’s on the five! Five double u!” A male agitated voice is heard in the background.

Footage comes in. Leaves of a shrubbery dominate the shot, an elbow on the right in the foreground.

“Feed is in… feed is going out. We are live Vicky.” The same voice adds.

Panning upward from the elbow to the rest of the man wearing a brown jacket, holding a microphone with the letters “VRT” on it, the image makes more sense.

Vicky’s voice is clear when it starts. “This just coming through to us, live footage from our affiliates in Brussels.”

The man in view is walking backwards motioning to the camera. His lips are moving but no sound is heard.

“We are watching… some… watching the….” The woman can’t finish the sentence. “We are broadcasting from our headquarters in London.”

The reporter followed by his camera man walks out off a backyard and onto a road. The road appears to be cracked.

Vicky comes back into view, the picture of the men on the scene moving about is in the top right corner. She sits behind a desk putting her right index on her earpiece. On the bottom left bold writing appears in a white square: “BREAKING NEWS” / “10:37 AM CET”. To the right of that the red CNN logo pops up.

“We are looking at the debris of…”

The live footage enlarges, the picture of the anchor sitting in the studio disappears. The reporter points toward the surface of the road with an outstretched arm, slowly making a circular movement. He is looking into the camera, lips moving, still no sound.

“… the road surface…” Vicky voices over. “… and several houses. The cause of this destruction is…” Dropping the volume of her voice she says, “Hold on. Yes I am getting the sound now,” directed at the editor.

Talking right into the camera a male voice comes through silent and distorted.

Okée, ik kan jullie horen Kathy,” comes from the reporter in Dutch while putting a finger on his earpiece.

“Patrick, yes. Patrick… we are patched through with CNN, BBC, France 24, CNBC, ZDF, NOS Journaal and Al Jazeera.” A female voice answers with a bit less distortion. “Can you continue Patrick? Are you safe?”

“Yes, as I was saying earlier Kathy, around me you can see the debris of the houses. Right now I am standing in…” Crackles are heard and the sound becomes unintelligible. The clear voice of Vicky takes over.

“We are getting this in from our colleagues at VRT, Flemish television. We are gathering information from different sources.”

Footage changes from the reporter to an aerial view from a helicopter.

“This is one of the areas that was first hit. All these houses leveled. You see there on the grass and road the outline… of… in a pattern you can see bean-shaped imprints on the ground.” Vicky stumbles over her words while information is being transmitted to her through her earpiece.

The helicopter hovers over the street and houses, some intact, some completely in ruins. Scattered along the road are what looks like wrecked cars. Slowly the aerial vantage point moves toward some meadows south of the neighborhood. The bean-shaped pits the size of cars parked two by two track back into the landscape of fields and clusters of trees.

“Joining me here is Walter Hammond to comment on this developing story.”

An older grey-haired news anchor walks behind the desk and sits down next to Vicky.  In the upper right corner pictures are still coming in from above the site.

“Hello Vicky.” The shot switches to a closer view of the male anchor and he faces the camera.

“Reports are coming in that the suburban area east of the city Brussels has been… struck… by a…” Walter pauses a bit while he tries to utter the words. “eh… large… woman.”

A yellow rectangle appears on the bottom with bold black writing: “HAPPENING NOW.”

“10:41 CET”

Another switch of camera and now both anchors are captured in the frame.

“What does that mean? A large woman?” Vicky inquires although she had been told that same line through her earpiece.

“A person the size of an apartment building according to witnesses calling in.”

Vicky holds her shocked wide-eyed expression for a mere moment and then is distracted by a cue from a producer. “Vicky, we have a connection,” can be silently heard in the background as she looks around the camera. She regains her composure and faces straight forward.

“We are now in contact with Patrick from VRT News at the scene.” As soon as she said that the picture changes from her to the reporter from earlier.

“Patrick, can you hear me?”

Patrick, holding his right hand over his earpiece, winces as the ear piercing sound of a police car passes by.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. Who is this?”

“Patrick, this is Vicky Johnson, CNN, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you well enough.”

“Patrick, what exactly happened where you are?”

“My crew and I were interviewing a person two blocks back from the secondary road we are at now.”

Loud cries come from the crowd that bustles around the reporter accompanying his commentary. Several men are shouting profanity in Dutch and French, although the word “fuck” is a regular sound sample as well.

“That was about ten minutes ago. Suddenly we felt… euhm… how would you say it in English? Thuds! One thud after another…”

More sirens are heard in the distance. The loud panicked shouting and cries continue to be an overtly powerful background noise.

“… about half a second between them. When they became louder I felt the earth shake so we ran outside.”

“Did you saw what it was?” Vicky’s clear voice immediately asks.

Patrick takes a few quick deep breaths and rubs his moustache.

“A… very big figure went by. We were just behind a house.”

“Figure? What kind of figure?”

“A person, Vicky!” The reporter shouts, as if coming to terms what he and his crew just witnessed.

“Our reports say it was a large female. Can you confirm this Patrick?”

Patrick takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples with his free hand to collect his thoughts. Behind him several firemen run past in the street.

“Yes, very big… very tall. We saw bare legs crashing down in front of as they passed by. Definitely feminine rather than…”

“And can you estimate how tall this person was Patrick?”

“Hard to tell Vicky. It has got to be well over eighty meters, I think.”

Everything shakes as the camera gestures to Patrick.

“My cameraman says it has to be over hundred meters. It was double as high as those apartment buildings on the other side of the street.”

“We saw you earlier pointing at a dent in the road. I assume that was a footprint?”

“Yes!” Patrick confirms loudly. “Hang on a moment!” The reporter weaves through some people aimlessly walking the street like chickens. The cameraman follows.

“Here it is. Can you see the length of it?”

“Yes, that is quite big. Can you give us an idea of how big?”

Slightly panning to the left a car is seen. It is partially on the sidewalk. The left front corner of the vehicle is severely wrecked.

“About two cars in length. Maybe three. And slightly wider as a lane in this street.”

“Thank you Patrick. That is quite enormous. And scary to believe.” Vicky’s voice says trying to keep the vocal cords from trembling. White letters in the upper left corner appear: “COURTESY VRT.”

“We saw some firemen running. What are they doing?”

Looking further down the street the disastrous scene can be taken in. Numerous wrecked vehicles are scattered about, as if it was a mass collision only spread out more, and debris consisting of mostly bricks spills out from the sidewalk onto the edge of the street at intervals.

“They are trying to get people out.” Patrick responds professionally and naturally hovering the microphone below his face.

“Can you elaborate on that? Out of where? How many casualties are there?” Vicky also with professionalism presses on.

“Well a lot of cars got…” He pauses finding his words. “…caught… by de voeten coming down.”

“The footen?”

“Foots! I mean feet!” The stressed reporter corrects. “Vehicles crashed against it, a lot were under it.”

“Oh… that… is truly distressing.” The British newscaster gasps. “How bad is it?”

The view zoomed in towards a couple of metal wrecks, just above knee-height to the firemen and paramedics pacing around them.

“I don’t know if you can see, but some cars got hit really hard, a lot of casualties. The brandweer can’t do much for those hit hard. It will take more time and special tools. But there is still hope for others. Many cars are wrecked partially… and from the side.”

“I hope all those people can be saved from the wreckage and taken for medical treatment. Patrick, can you tell us how many emergency responders are at the scene?”

As Patrick is about to answer a man in the vicinity starts shouting.

“Là! Elle est là! Oh miljard, merde! Là, chez les arbres et fond ces bâtiments.”

The cameraman turns around filming the other direction in the street. People start shouting and screaming. Behind some apartment blocks a kilometer down the street the upper body of a gigantic female sticks out. After quickly zooming in and relying on auto-focus the pink silhouette becomes clear. A naked woman slowly walks from left to right in the distance. The expression on her face can not be made out but shoulder length curly blond hair waves around in the wind. Judging by the curves, gravity defying breasts and overall firmness of the body she must be in her early to mid twenties.

“CNN, we got to go, my editor is switching me over.”

“Okay thank you Patrick. Be careful there.”

The image changes to the brown haired woman wearing a vest jacket in the studio. Then it switches to the right prompting her older male colleague to take over.

“If you are just joining us we are covering a devastating event taking place in Brussels. A yet to be explained gigantic woman is causing destruction in the streets. We don’t have an estimate on the number of casualties but the reports are horrific to say the least. The images coming in are distressing and disturbing. We are gathering information and trying to picture the scale of the area affected.”

Walter momentarily touches his earpiece with his right index finger.

“We are receiving feed from a helicopter at the scene.”

10:46 CET

 

Chapter End Notes:

To be continued.

Special thanks to openhighhat for proofreading and helping me out giving feedback on my writing. I've still got to learn and improve.

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