A dynamic camera tracks a thermal organ transplant container as it rolls across churned dirt,
splattering blood and muddy water, then plunges into a river. The camera follows. Only the container
is visible; in the distance, you hear heavy footsteps and gunfire drawing closer. Several people rush
past the body of a freshly killed courier. Myanmar junta rebels in bandanas and khaki with Chinese
rifles surge after the container, and one of them dives into the water without hesitation.
The camera dives with him. Underwater, there are only faint gurgles and a distant hum. Above,
muffled through what feels like concrete-thick air, come booming steps, shouts, and bursts of automatic
fire. We emerge alongside the container. On the bank, between jungle and a filthy beach, people scramble
in panic. A courier in a blood-soaked uniform lies face down; blood is pooling beneath him. The rebels
cross the frame like a predatory pack. One spots the drifting container and jumps in after it. The camera
follows another rebel, the one who lagged behind. He sprints along the river, stumbles, and turns back.
The image suddenly cuts to the view through a sniper rifle scope. Breath crackles in the headset, and the
digital crosshair slowly locks onto the running man. Click.
In the next shot the rebel’s head explodes like an overripe pumpkin. At that exact moment, we hit a brutal
match cut: in the same spot of the frame appears a children’s pinata shaped like a pumpkin, smashed by a
girl charging in with a stick. Candy rains down on screaming kids; laughter and music replace the gunfire.
Here we pause the story, giving you a moment to step in.