Okay, so these are some of my ideas for the sequel to twisted metal black. Mostly it'll just be new characters (since thumperman did such a good job coming up with new storylines for the old characters). I've been looking at some of the other stuff on this board and its blowing me away and I know this wont come close, but I want to get my ideas out. So Please tell me what you think, tell me how I can improve. I'll post the middle and endings later, after i introduce all the characters.

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The night brings out the darkness in all of us. It shows us who we really are…

It has been 15 years since the first Twisted Metal Tournament in Midtown. Christmas Eve has ceased to become a day of joy and tranquility. In Midtown, it means the annual coming of Twisted Metal. Some say that Twisted Metal is a natural part of Darwin’s Life cycle, and should be allowed to continue. The criminals and lunatics run amok destroying each other across the city, weeding out the malicious and insane from society. The world would be better off without such people. Every year, however, Calypso is always able to find new contestants to compete in his demented game. Maybe Midtown is full of just psychos, maybe the constant chaos and destruction cultivates a race of maniacs. No one quite knows for sure. Most can agree, however, that due to the apparent surplus of daredevil freaks, that the contest should be stopped, as it eliminates killers only to raise a new generation for the next year. Every year on Christmas Eve, families retreat to the “safety” of their homes (no one is really safe) and huddle together, waiting for the devastation to end so they can try to rebuild their city, atleast until next year. Reconstruction is slow and has lost support, and many residents have fled the hellhole of Midtown to nearby Whitegrove. Twisted Metal drivers destroy the town faster than it can be rebuilt. Some assume that Twisted Metal must end soon; there is nothing left to destroy. The cynical say that Calypso will always find a way.

Nevertheless, evacuation measures are being taken to abandon the city before the next Christmas. No one will be forced to leave, but it is widely suggested that they escape the wrath of Midtown and its curse. Part of these measures was the destruction of the asylum, along with all of the hopeless souls inside it. The asylum had never cured anyone; perhaps by destroying it the psychopaths that had plagued the city for so long would cease to exist. There was one way out for any willing prisoners, however. Compete in this year’s twisted metal for a chance to win your heart’s desire.

December 1, 2020. A rumor spreads like wildfire through the streets as the news sends shockwaves through the city. Word in the underground is Calypso is dead. Murdered. No one is certain of who killed him, or even if he really is dead. The few who have heard either rejoice, hoping for an end to the violent chaos that has plagues their city for over a decade, or scoff at the fact that a man like Calypso could even be killed. Those who hope for the beginning of a new era, however, an era of peace and tranquility in their little town, are sorely disappointed. It was announced that Twisted Metal would continue as scheduled this year; it was far from over. Some said this was proof  that Calypso lived; others said that Sweettooth, a champion of multiple tournaments, had finally managed to obtain his dream of taking Calypso’s place and had organized this tournament. At the time, though, Sweettooth was locked up in the asylum, a place he visited quite frequently, but always managed to escape just in time for the next Twisted Metal, somehow. So that theory seemed invalid. Others just thought it was a stunt orchestrated by Calypso himself to draw publicity to the tournament.  

Whatever the reason, Twisted Metal was happening this year all the same. And for the first time, it would venture outside the limits of Midtown, starting in the rubble of Downtown, and making its way north to Whitegrove. The contest had run out of places in Midtown to destroy. And, like always, there were plenty of new contestants ready to take up the offer. Joining them would be returning drivers of years past: champions defending their titles, previous finalists with scores to settle, and veterans who were simply insane enough to love the game. One thing was for certain: It would be the most gruesome, twisted competition yet.

***

Blackfield Asylum Profile

Driver Name: Ryan Finn
Age: 23
Vehicle: Riptide
Vehicle Description: 1940s Woody Wagon. Station wagon with wooded panels on the door, sides, and fenders. The rear wheel is half covered by the rear fender. Painted a dull teal color that has faded profusely over the years and is peeling away. A surfboard is mounted on top, and a spare tire on the back. Pieces of seaweed hang over from the roof, out from the windows, and on the fenders. The whole car is always somehow dripping wet. The car is armored on the sides by the rear fender with life preserver rings that are roped together. There is also a kayak chained haphazardly to one side of the car. The steering wheel is a ship’s helm. Machine guns are mounted on the front fenders.
Stats:
Armor: 5/10
Speed: 5/10
Handling: 5/10
Special: 8/10
Special: Cowabunga = A tidal wave is generated from a hood scoop and engulfs the area in front of riptide, capable of carrying multiple enemies in its wake

Beginning Cutscene: I know I’ve done some bad things in my life (camera zooms from outside asylum into a hallway). But I think, after a certain point, it becomes almost justifiable to kill. When you have something like what happened to me, I think it’s excusable if your perspective of right and wrong gets skewed a bit. (Camera enters cell. You see a man sitting on the floor with his head down, looking dejected. He has scraggly blond hair parted down the middle that hangs into his face and a scraggy 3 day blond beard. He wears a shredded, torn v neck tee and boardshorts, revealing his horridly disfigured limbs. His right arm and both legs stop about half way down, ending in jagged, bloody stumps. Bite mark scars crisscross his face and skin.) My luck turned sour at the worst possible time, and when I needed them most, those scumbags who called themselves my friends betrayed me and left me to die. Well, I didn’t. But I made sure they did. Then they locked me up in here and tried to heal me. But I wouldn’t take their help. Why try to hide the freak I am?
One day, the nurse slipped some kind of letter under the door with my meal. It was an invitation to some contest called Twisted Metal. I had heard of Twisted Metal, and of Calypso. Last I heard, he was dead. I thought it was some kind of sick joke, but I guess the contest was really happening again this year. I figured, why not? This asylum is goin down with me in it, and this could be my ticket out of here. I’m certainly a man with nothing else to lose. I mean, look at me. I sure could use a wish these days. (Wagon zooms away from the asylum.)

***

Blackfield Asylum Profile

Driver: Chief Red Falcon
Age: 54
Vehicle: Tomahawk
Vehicle Description:  Beat up, dirty 1994 Jeep Cherokee. Painted a light brown, woody color with offroad tires. Fenders reinforced with metal bumpers chained to the body. Strange, tribal designs are painted on the sides. There are those two prong-like things that come out from under the front bumper then go vertical, I don’t know what you call them (maybe like grill reinforcements?) Machine gun mounted on the left side.
Stats:
Armor: 6/10
Speed: 4/10
Handling: 5/10
Special: 6/10
Special: Ancestral Arrows = A barrage of arrows is emitted from a slot on the hood right in front of the windshield. Can be charged before activated. The longer charged, the faster and more powerfully will the arrows fly through the air. When detonated, they drop straight down onto opponents.

Beginning Cutscene: Start outside the asylum, zoom in like usual into a cell revealing a typical Native American Leader, sitting cross-legged on the ground. His hair is long and graying, drawn into many braids. He wears an open chested animal skin vest, revealing his bronzed, slim yet brawny torso. Wrinkles form at the corners of his mouth and brown eyes. His pants are brown and fray at the bottom, with colorful designs painted on them. He wears a headband with arrows on it, and wears an empty quiver on his back. This is all while he speaks in a native American accent:
Behold the latest and greatest terror brought upon us by the white man. After they destroyed everything that had been close to my heart, they put me in here because they did not know what else to do to me. They robbed me of my dignity and my livelihood, and now I am not the proud leader I once was. I had nothing left to live for. I figured I would waste away in this asylum until they destroyed it. Taking my life would not mean much to me at this point; I have nothing left to live for.
Then, one day, I got a letter from a strange man named Calypso. He offered me in a place in a strange contest of his, a contest of automobile combat to the death. Suddenly I realized that this was the man behind all of my suffering. This is the man who caused all this to happen. I knew I must find this man and end his life to exact justice with the universe. As horrid as it may be, I knew I would enter his contest. I am not a violent man, but am a great warrior. I have fought for my home before and now I will again to reclaim it. This contest has given me hope, hope that I may be able to put my life back together again. I will restore balance to nature and end the chaos of this dreadful city. I realize now that it is what the Spirits have called me to do, and I shall not fail them. (Jeep zooms away from the asylum).

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Blackfield Asylum Profile

Driver: Mel (and Woodward) Clemens
Age: 71, 30
Vehicle: Glory Days
Vehicle Description: 1957 Chevrolet Bel Aire, red with chrome trim and white fins, with large spots where the paint has worn away and rust has taken hold. The fins have been file into blades. The rear wheel wells are exaggerated and the rear wheels are almost completely hidden under the fenders. The front bumper is has been reinforced with a large metal one. The side skirts have worn away, and side exhaust pipes drag on the ground and occasionally cough smoke while driving. The rear bumper drags on the ground on one side. Machine guns on both sides at the bottom of the doors
Stats:
Armor: 5/10
Speed: 6/10
Handling: 5/10
Special: 7/10
Special: Glory Missiles = two slots on the front fenders open up and reveal torpedo tubes. A target flashes across the screen and can be directed by a player to lock on to an enemy. Two homing torpedoes are fired.

Beginning Cutscene: And old man with silver hair is sitting against the wall of a cell with a wooden ventriloquist’s dummy on his lap. The dummy is chipped and the green painted on suit is fading. The old man (Mel) wears shabby old clothes and is neither fat nor skinny. A far-off, dazed look is in his eyes. The old man speaks in a gravelly, worn voice:

“Things are getting mighty strange around here, aren’t they Woodward?” He sighs. “My mind is goin fuzzy. I can’t always tell what’s real anymore. Sometimes I hallucinate, and my son is still here. I miss him so much.  It’s easy to get lost in the daydreams, to give myself up to them. In my visions, my son is so real, so vivid. It almost seems like he’s here. I wish I could surrender to my fantasies, but I just can’t. I still have a sliver of hold on reality. I ain’t gone yet.
One day, I got this letter inviting me to some merry old game called Twisted Metal. I get to leave this place, and if I win, I can have anything I want. Sounds pretty dern good to me.

Will you help me out on this one, Woodward? My drivin’s not what it used to be. Would you mind takin the pilot’s seat for this one? You will? Thanks old buddy. You’ve always been there for me. And you do remind me of my son so much. You have the same haircut, you know. Sometimes, I begin to think you actually are my son…
(Bel Aire drives out from the Asylum, and you can see Woodward (the dummy) in the driver’s seat, and Mel slumped in the passenger’s seat.)

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Your three characters are cool.

A word of advice:   Balance the roster out with characters from the games.  Why not return Sweet Tooth and make characters from past TM games that never appeared in TM:  Black?

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Gah you read my mind I was actually planning on doing that :P I just have a lot of vehicle ideas that I want to express

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maxamillionaire wrote on 04/17/10 at 19:28:04:

Gah you read my mind I was actually planning on doing that :P I just have a lot of vehicle ideas that I want to express

I understand.  But it's not Twisted Metal without the killer clown in the ice cream truck.

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maxamillionaire wrote on 04/17/10 at 04:37:46:

Blackfield Asylum Profile Driver Name: Ryan Finn Age: 23 Vehicle: Riptide Vehicle Description: 1940s Woody Wagon. Station wagon with wooded panels on the door, sides, and fenders. The rear wheel is half covered by the rear fender. Painted a dull teal color that has faded profusely over the years and is peeling away. A surfboard is mounted on top, and a spare tire on the back. Pieces of seaweed hang over from the roof, out from the windows, and on the fenders. The whole car is always somehow dripping wet. The car is armored on the sides by the rear fender with life preserver rings that are roped together. There is also a kayak chained haphazardly to one side of the car. The steering wheel is a ship’s helm. Machine guns are mounted on the front fenders.

sound familiar...

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I just read your fic and I saw your use of the woody wagon. You had posted it before me and I acknowledge that, but I swear I had not read your fic prior to mine and developed my woody idea independently. I realize it looks suspicious and apologize for the coincidence, but I did not plagiarize you. It was purely coincidence, we both thought of the same thing independently. I don't think that's incredibly hard to believe

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Blackfield Asylum Profile

Driver: Ross Garraty
Age: 19
Vehicle: Hammerhead
Vehicle Description: 1993 Dodge Ram Pickup with Monster truck wheels. Paint is a rusting light green, similar to the color of tm1’s hammerhead. The truck has roll bars and offroad lights mounted on the cab. Bloodstains are splattered on the tires. The hood and front fenders are dented and the headlights are broken. There’s a machine gun mounted under the front bumper so it’s low enough to hit other vehicles.

Stats:
Armor: 8/10
Speed: 2/10
Handling: 2/10
Special: 9/10
Special: Pulverizor = Spikes emerge from Hammerhead’s tires and when the truck drives close to an opponent, as if to ram them, the truck drives over them instead, crushing them beneath the huge spiked wheels.

Beginning Cutscene: After the camera zoom through the asylum hallways to the cell, you see a teenager sitting with his head in his hands in the room. He wears a torn, bloody muscle short and dirty jeans with combat boots. His blond hair is cut short. You can tell that he used to be muscular but his strength has worn away due to time in the asylum. He narrates in a wavering voice:

I didn’t mean no harm, really. I never wanted things to turn out this way. Things just turned so horribly wrong so quickly, and before I even knew what was happening, I was a murderer. We were just out cruising, looking for a good time. Our innocent joyride turned to bloodshed in the blink of an eye. I’m the reason for the destruction of a guiltless family. How will I ever be able to live with myself? I can still see the horrified look on the man’s face, hear his screams of agony…

That night messed me up so bad, they locked me in here. I was going crazy with guilt, even trying to do myself in. I suppose it’s good I’m trapped here, away from society, where I can’t hurt anyone anymore.

One day, I received an invitation to come freakish game called Twisted Metal. It came the day before this place was about to go down. I was actually kind of looking forward to the demolition. I was ready for this tortured existence to come to an end. But the letter changed all that. It said if I survived the combat, I could have one wish, anything my heart desired. I realized what this could mean. I could go back and change everything. I could relive my past and fix the outcome of that awful night. In the envelope was a set of keys. I recognized the keys, they were for that cursed monster truck. I knew I had to climb back behind the wheel of that vehicle, the vehicle that had destroyed my life. But when I win, it’ll be like it never happened…. (Hammerhead rumbles away from the asylum).

***

Blackfield Asylum Profile

Name: Dr. Xavier Flesch (Sometimes known as Dr. Flesh)
Age: 46
Vehicle: Pandemic
Vehicle Description: Ambulance. The lights on top are cracked and lopsided, and there is a mixture of blood and mud splattered across the body. A stretcher is mounted on each side of the vehicle for armor. The back doors dangle ajar and as you drive around you can see a cadaver strapped to a gurney in the back. Medical supplies often spill out of the unsecured doors as well. Machine guns are mounted on each side, by the doors.

Stats:
Amor: 7/10
Speed: 5/10
Handling: 5/10
Special: 5/10
Special: Infection = A contagious wave spreads out from beneath the vehicle, infecting any nearby enemies (about the radius of axel’s special). It does little damage at impact, but over time infected enemies gradually have their health eaten away, until they get health.

Beginning Cutscene: The usual camera zoom, etc, revealing a man slumped against the wall of his cell. He wears bloody scrubs, complete with gloves, a stethoscope, cap, and surgical mask. He wears opaque glasses that reflect light whenever it strikes them. Beneath his clothes, you can see his body is extremely thin and emaciated, he’s basically a sallow layer of skin covering his bones. His pale and gaunt, with absolutely no fat on it. He narrates in a strained, creepy voice:

Look at me. I’m pathetic. I’m a shadow of myself. I’m a skeleton with nothing left to live for. I fell so far, circumstances went so out of my control. What could I do? I had no options left. To protect his own life, a man will stoop to a lot of things he never even imagined he could be capable of. Can I justify myself? Yes. Do I forgive myself? No. But then again, I was going crazy. The top doctor in the country, wasting away from a disease even he couldn’t cure. I had to find a solution. I came up with something, but they didn’t like what I was doing. They captured me and locked me up in here to prevent me from continuing my operations. I figured I’d go down with the place during the demolition. But something happened to change all that.

I received an invitation one day to some contest called Twisted Metal. I’d heard of it, of course. I’d operated on many a victim of that hellish competition. But I had never thought of entering it before. Now, I realized I had no reason not to. I had a way out of this hellhole, and I possibly had a way to reverse everything that had happened to me. Who could say no to that? (Ambulance zooms away from asylum).

***

Please comment after you read! Tell me what you think of my character ideas. I can see you reading but not responding ;)

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Whoa. Nice vision of Hammerhead. Also, Pandemic is a cool character.

I liked that your Hammerhead's Special is a redux of Twisted Metal: Small Brawl's Hammerhead.

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I liked the Tomahawk character (since I'm indian) and diggin the ventriloquist concept alot. kinda TMB Yellow Jacket-ish, but a good play on it regardless. also like the surf bum too, but the special seems kinda lame.. sorry

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The Dizaster Child wrote on 04/18/10 at 06:13:22:

I liked the Tomahawk character (since I'm indian) and diggin the ventriloquist concept alot. kinda TMB Yellow Jacket-ish, but a good play on it regardless. also like the surf bum too, but the special seems kinda lame.. sorry

Yeah, anyone remember Wormwood that Monkey king created?

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Thanks. I actually thought that Riptide's special was one of my more unique ones, since it isn't just a slightly modified missile or gun or something.

And I'm glad you're not offended by my quasi-stereotype then

Two Questions: would you guys rather see me crank out more character introductions or go into more detail of the 5 I have so far and post their middles and such/

and would it be alright if I gave black makeovers to some tm3 or tm4 cars? I still dont know if have the right ideas to do that but I was just wondering if it was allowed :P

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Alot of original charactors here. I like the idea of Pandemic and Riptide.

Good stuff man.

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maxamillionaire wrote on 04/18/10 at 00:33:10:

I just read your fic and I saw your use of the woody wagon. You had posted it before me and I acknowledge that, but I swear I had not read your fic prior to mine and developed my woody idea independently. I realize it looks suspicious and apologize for the coincidence, but I did not plagiarize you. It was purely coincidence, we both thought of the same thing independently. I don't think that's incredibly hard to believe

well thank you, a nice honest apology. You guys should look in to this type of behvior.

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Mr.SLaM wrote on 04/18/10 at 18:07:23:

well thank you, a nice honest apology. You guys should look in to this type of behior.

It's spelled "behavior".

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LOL.. touche

as proud as I am of my indian heritage, I can take a redskin joke as good as the rest of them. I like how you made him peaceful, but forced to fight to save his life. you push an indian into a corner.. you're fucked. and I like the name alot too

I made up a character a long time ago.. even sketched him out and gave a full profile on him. his name was Ratamahatta, who was an old Cheyanne indian chief who went insane after his tribe was wiped out by the TM contest spilling into his lands. all he ever sees are visions of him killing the drivers he got a good look at while the invaded. I just never came up with a car for him, so never bothered posting him

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Yea Tomahawk is going to have a similar storyline, now it's going to look like I copied you. Well I didn't :D

And nobody ever answered my questions: Do you guys want to see more introductions or do you want me to reveal more about the posted characters?

And is it ok if I give tm3/4 cars black makeovers?

Anyways, here's two more:

***

Twisted Metal Classified Files

Name: Dandelion
Age: 29
Vehicle: Bohemian
Vehicle Description: 1955 VW Bus, with a base paint color that was originally pale blue, with psychedelic patterns and floral designs painted all across the whole bus in yellow, purple, orange, pink, and light green. All the paint has faded profusely over the years, however. Ivy is growing out from the top of the windows and creeps up along the side of the bus from the chassis. Some panels on the bus’s sides are missing, and two of the wheels have lost their tires and are running on rims, sending sparks up occasionally. Some of the windows are boarded up with wooden planks. A metal rack is on the roof. The mufflers protrude at odd angles from under the rear bumper. The machine gun is mounted below the front bumper.
Stats:
Armor: 7/10
Speed: 4/10
Handling: 4/10
Special: 7/10
Special: Flower Power = A bazooka-type apparatus appears from a panel in the roof and shoots a large, spiraling missile that leaves a multicolored trail. The missile fires in a straight line, and when it hits an enemy, it does damage and temporarily obscures vision with bright flashing colors.

Beginning Cutscene: The VW bus rumbles down a long, straight desert highway. A thin blanket  of rain coats the night sky. A scorpion scuttles across the sand. Dandelion narrates in a firm, yet pretty voice with a slight southern drawl:

I gave peace a chance.

(Bohemian zooms past a stationary camera.)

It didn’t work out so well.

(Camera shows the side profile of Dandelions face. She’s very pretty, with soft skin, light blue eyes, and long blond hair. The camera pans around the show her face from the front. The other side of her face is crisscrossed with deep, jagged scars, one obscuring her eye. Remnants of bloody cloths litter the dashboard.)

This is what I get for passive resistance. This is what I get for acting civilized. This is what I get for acting like a human being.
(A single tear slowly rolls down the side of her hardened face.)

All I wanted was to end to suffering and chaos that has plagued the city for so many years. All I wanted was to make it so people could be happy again.

(Bohemian passes a solitary, ramshackle house, abandoned for years. The windows are boarded up and the wooden paneling is falling apart.)

Well, I’ve run out of patience. I’m tired of being the better man. I know this isn’t what my forerunners would have wanted, but I don’t see no other way to get this done. I’m at my wits end.  I don’t know what’s happened to this world or why it’s come to be this way. I only know that no one else is stepping up to put an end to this chaos. I hate to stoop to their level, I hate to kill and be violent just like them. But I know it’s going to feel so good to shed some blood tonight. The blood of the condemned, the blood of the hell bound.

(Camera shows a bloody dagger lying on the dashboard.)

There’s an old saying that goes, if you can’t beat em, join em.

(VW bus rolls past a sign that says MIDTOWN CITY LIMITS.  Smoke from the broken metropolis rises in the distance.)

***

Twisted Metal Classified Files

Driver: Agent Shepherd
Age: 36
Vehicle: Crimson Fury
Vehicle Description: Dark red Lamborghini Countach. Has been modified with top-secret government technology. Is body is made of almost completely carbon fiber. It has multiple air scoops  all over the body. The framework is covered by slots and panels that open up to reveal strange, classified weapons. Gatling guns are chained to the sides, low on the body. It has gulllwing doors and the back hatch opens from a hinge on the side closest to the back, revealing a purring, supercharged engine. Lightweight alloy bumpers and panels are bolted all over the body for extra armor

Stats:
Armor: 3/10
Speed: 10/10
Handling: 8/10
Special: 7/10
Special: Crimsonbeam = A state of the art, government issued laser device appears from a hood panel and fires a white-hot, precise beam of red laser at the nearest opponent.

Beginning Cutscene: Crimson Fury is speeding along a deserted, mountain road in the rain. Agent Shepherd’s low, determined voice narrates:

This should never have happened to me.

(Camera zooms through the windshield and shows a man with flowing, shoulder-length, jet black hair, black tinted sunglasses, and a black, impeccable suit. His face is set in stone, a cold scowl.)

They’ve got it completely wrong.

(Camera sweeps the inside of the car, revealing a vast array of unidentifiable gauges and displays, monitoring the weapons system of the car)

Never in a million years could I have done the things they’ve accused me of. I am no such coward.

(Agent Shepherd is clenching a pistol against the steering wheel.)

I had to get out of the city. They wanted my head. I was forced to flee to these god-forsaken mountain roads, where they wouldn’t be able to find me. Nobody can catch me in Fury. I modified it myself. It’s no doubt that they’re looking for me, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of catching me. I’m not a criminal. I’m the only one who’s sane.

(A view from atop a peak shows the Lambo screaming by below)

It’s unbelievable, really. I’m the best at what I do in the world. It’s insane to think they all were so eager to pin the blame on me

(Camera shows a newspaper clipping in the passenger seat with a headline that reads President Assassinated by head of Secret Service.)

Well I’ll show them all. I know the man who did this is out there, celebrating his ‘victory’ in some dark hideout. He thinks he’s beaten me. He’s dead wrong. I’ll win this psychotic competition and exact my vengeance on those who betrayed me. I’ll find the man who’s responsible for this nightmare, and let him know you don’t mess with me. I’ll rid the city of the maniacal killers that roam the streets and clear my name in one fell swoop. Twisted Metal, watch out. You’ve never seen the likes of Crimson Fury before.

(Camera pans out and shows Crimson Fury zooming down the mountain towards a mass of city lights far below.)

***

Please review

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Nice work on Crimson Fury.

As for giving TM3/4 characters makeovers, do so at you own risk.  Be prepared to get flamed if you do it.

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wrote on 04/18/10 at 20:22:33:

It's spelled "behavior".

It's called who gives 2 fucks?

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for future reference, Lambos already come with carbon fiber bodies. gull-wing doors come on DeLoreans; Lambos come with scissor doors ;)

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bahh. shows how much I know. Scissor doors, thats what I meant... :P

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A large, armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Riptide sits amongst the wreckage, with Ryan slumped against the steering wheel. His voice narrates:

Once I had defeated that freak Mr. Ash and the firetruck he called Pheonix, I must have blacked out. Visions of the day it all went wrong swirled through my head, and I was forced to relive it again.

(Camera shows a dark, stormy coastline, with the Woody parked on the beach.)

Not to be cliché, but it was a dark and stormy night. That’s when the biggest waves appear.

(Ryan, with a normal, whole body, is pedaling through the treacherous waves on a surfboard, with some buddies behind him on their boards.)

It was basically a hurricane. Me and my buddies were the only ones brave enough (or stupid enough) to face the elements.

(A giant wave crashes over the surfers, but they emerge from the water, shake it off, and start laughing.)

Everything was going fine, we were hitting some great waves. It was the best surfing of our lives.

(Surfers hanging ten on a gigantic wave.)

After a while, we decided to call it a night. We were getting tired pretty quickly from trying to hold our own against the currents.

(The surfers are wading toward the shore, about knee-deep in the water.)

That’s when it all went horribly wrong.

(Camera freezes as Ryan’s face turns to sheer terror, as he’s dragged underwater by an unseen force.)

I didn’t know sharks lived in these waters.

(Ryan starts to scream, but it turns into a gurgle as his head is dragged underwater. The water starts to turn dark red. Ryan’s friends notice what’s happening and hightail it out of the water.)

It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. That shark took both my legs and an arm, and tried to take my face before he let go.

(Ryan’s limp form floats to the top of the water.)

Somehow, I didn’t drown. I came to and managed to make my way to the shore.

(Ryan’s bloody, severed body crawls onto the beach, leaving a trail of blood behind.)

My friends had abandoned me, presuming me for dead.

(Ryan watches as the Woody screeches away from the beach.)

Luckily, there was a hospital close by, and I crawled into the waiting room there and passed out.

(Ryan face down on a linoleum floor.)

The next morning, I woke up in agony in a hospital bed. I also woke up in a rage.

(Ryan pulls the breathing machine off of his face and the IV out of his arm. He rolls off the bed and crawls out of the hospital using his one good arm.)

I found my friends. Weren’t the surprised to see me. Anyways, I made short work of them.

(Ryan leaves a room holding a bloody butcher’s knife, and you can see three bloody bodies sprawled on the floor.)

I got my revenge, but now I’m looking for something more. I don’t want to be like this forever. When I win, I know exactly what to ask for.

(Woody zooms away from the wreckage.)

***

A large, armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Tomahawk sits amongst the wreckage, with Chief Red Falcon at the wheel, his head bowed and eyes closed. He narrates:

After defeating the firetruck, I fell into a deep meditation. I had to make peace with the spirits for all the blood I had spilt so far. While I was meditating, the memories of the day they took everything from me came rushing back. It had been a normal day on the reserve. Our hunt had been successful, and we were enjoying a feast by the fire.

(Camera shows many Native Americans sitting around a bonfire, eating meat, talking and laughing.)

I was about to give a speech to my people, a toast to our valiance in battle and our balanced way of life.

(Chief stands up and raises his hands, about to speak.)

Something seemed not right, however. I picked up a rumbling sensation in the distance. Others noticed it too.

(The Chief looks around in prepared confusion, as do others. A murmur runs across the crowd.)

Then, something I could not have imagined in my worst fears occurred.

(A dump truck, motorcycle, junk car, and ice cream truck become visible over the horizon. They are firing machine guns and shooting missiles at each other. Screams go out across the crowd.)

I tried to remain calm and usher my people to safety as these monstrosities entered our camp.

(People panic and scramble as the vehicles rumble through the campsite. Manslaughter indifferently crushes many natives beneath his wheels and rolls over some crude dwellings. He spills his bed full of coals, setting the whole camp ablaze.)

I could not believe my eyes. I could not believe they were doing this to me and my people.

(Errant missiles from the other competitors destroy the camp completely. A high scream is heard cutting through the din. Chief rushes over to the scream and finds his wife, whose legs have been blown apart, cradling their two massacred children.)

My family… mercilessly murdered for no reason.

(Chief screams in an unknown language and grabs his wife’s hand. Tears run down her face, as her eyes glaze over and her head lolls back. She’s dead. Chief bows his head and weeps bitterly. He screams at the fiery sky and stands up as the vehicles leave the camp. He is shaking with rage and pain as he surveys the surroundings with clenched fists. He is the only one left alive in the ruins of his home.)

This demonic competition had destroyed my village and my way of life. I know the ones responsible are in the competition again this year, and I will avenge the awful death of my people upon them. And when I win, I will rid the world of these bloodthirsty animals and restore balance to nature.

(Tomahawk drives away from the wreckage.)

***

A large, armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Glory Days sits amongst the wreckage, with Woodward slumped lifeless in the driver’s seat and Mel twiddling his thumbs in the passenger’s seat. His voice narrates:

Well done, old buddy. We made short work of that Mr. Ash fellow. This game is rather fun, isn’t it? *Sighs* I’m tired. Let’s rest for a while.

(Mel nods off to sleep.)

I was having the weirdest dream. I dreamt of the day my son went away.

(Camera shows a quaint, small cottage, and zooms inside to show Mel, 30 years younger, playing with a boy of about 9. He’s showing him how to use the ventriloquist dummy, which is brand new.)

It was such a peaceful evening. I was spending time with my son, and I was happy. We were happy, with our simple lives.

(Son laughs and Mel smiles.)

But then, something happened.

(The front door breaks down, revealing two men dressed in all black, wearing ski masks. One is armed with a crowbar and the other has a pistol. Their eyes widen when they see Mel and his son right there. Mel’s son screams.)

Two young men dropped by, looking for money. They were nice fellows, just desperate, I think.

(One of the burglars runs and pins Mel against the wall. He yells, “Alright old man, this is a robbery! Tell me where you keep the valuables and we won’t hurt you!”)

I tried to explain to him that we weren’t too well-off, and that he was making a mistake. I hate to see a young man make poor choices like that.

(The robber presses Mel harder against the wall, brandishing the crowbar. He roars, “Tell me!” and showers Mel with a barrage of saliva. Mel’s son is crying in a corner.)

They weren’t the smartest young men I had ever met. They didn’t seem to understand that we didn’t have much worth stealing.

(“If you don’t know, maybe your kid does!” yelled the burglar. His partner picks the kid up and points the pistol at his head. “Alright kid, where does your pop keep the money?!” At this point, his son is too terrified to make a sound. He shakes silently in the burglar’s grip.)

I started to get a little upset once they started bullying my son.

(“Now just leave him out of this!” Mel yells. The burglar snarls and throws his son across the room. “Stop wasting our time, gramps!” screams the other. He hits Mel with the crowbar, and the screen goes black.)

I was knocked out cold.  When I woke up, I was not greeted by a pretty sight.

(Mel comes to with a nasty gash on his head. His living room is completely trashed, with bookshelves knocked over, pictures smashed, and his TV broken. The burglars are gone. He looks around and sees his son, lying in a small pool of blood with his back to him. He goes over and turns his son over, who has a bullet hole in his head. His eyes are blank and glazed over.)

My son was gone. The poor, poor lad…

(Tears stream down Mel’s face as he holds his son closely to him. He catches sight of Woodward, broken on the ground. His body is chipped and stained with blood.)

From then on, it was just you and me, old friend.

(Mel picks up the dummy and smiles a cracked, faraway smile.)

I atleast had you. You had never left me. You’ve always been such a good son for me.

(Mel snaps out of his day dream and looks at the dummy in the driver’s seat. He smiles.)

We’re doin all right, aren’t we. I figure we stand a good chance at winning this thing.

(The Bel Aire zooms away from the ravaged battlefield.)

---

Nice middle parts.

Please do Sweet Tooth, Roadkill, Mr. Grimm, and Manslaughter.  I like to see why they're in the contest again.

---

Haha I guess I do have to now don't I? It's ok I have some ideas...

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wow, thats fucking creepy with Tomahawk LOL

good intros tho, I like these characters

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"And nobody ever answered my questions: Do you guys want to see more introductions or do you want me to reveal more about the posted characters?

And is it ok if I give tm3/4 cars black makeovers?"

Do the intro's, before you do the reveals. That way it would make the stories for them a bit more fleshed out. That's just my opinion.

I don't really see to much of a problem with you using 3/4 charactors in a Black setting. I actually belive it might make for an interstening stroy. That's also just my opinion. Some peoples hatered for 3/4 might blind them to the originality.

I'll be standing around waiting with a baseball bat.....

---

This series has sparked my interest. I'm interested in Bohemian and Pandemic's stories. I hope you will update those next. Also, perhaps you would do stories for Grasshopper and/or Mr. Grim.

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I think I'm going to keep the stories in the order I posted the beginnings. Here are Pandemic and Hammerhead, Bohemian and Crimson Fury will be coming soon. As for mr grmm, probably, grasshopper, maybe.

***

A large, armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Pandemic sits amongst the wreckage, and you see Dr. Flesh slumped back in the seat. His voice narrates:

I had defeated the firetruck called Pheonix. It was the toughest battle so far. My consciousness left me soon after that, and my mind drifted off into the past. It was a lot like being under anesthesia.

(Camera fades to hospital scene, Dr. Flesch is on break, reading the newspaper. He looks younger and a lot healthier, very vital.)

I’ve always been a surgeon. A damn good one too. But I used to use my skill to help people.

(A man with a bandaged torso walks slowly into the room. He greets the doctor with a very enthusiastic handshake. The doctor smiles warmly at him.)

I remember the last patient I had before I changed. A very nice young man by the name of Scott. I had performed a complex operation, a dangerous one, but had been very successful.

(The young man speaks. “I just wanted to thank you again, Doctor. You really saved my life, and I can’t be grateful enough.” The doctor just smiles and says, “All in a day’s work, son.”)

Those were the old days. They’re long gone now. I’m not that man anymore.

(Camera flashes to the emaciated doctor sitting in the asylum.)

I remember the day I received the diagnosis.

(Dr. Flesch looks a little weaker and gaunter. He wears street clothes and is visiting a different doctor. The other doctor hands him a sheet printed off a complex machine. Dr. Flesch reads the sheet, and drops his head to his hands. The other doctor pats him on the back, but Dr. Flesch shakes it off, then storms out of the room, barreling through the doors.)

It was just not fair. I had been answering my call to society, assisting people with their troubles. But I was somehow being punished for it.

(Dr. Flesh strides angrily through the hospital, knocking in to people and knocking things over.)

My organs were failing me. All of them at once, it seems. It would result in a slow, painful decline of health until I wasted away into death.
(Dr. Flesh runs into the hospital parking garage.)

This was the first instance of this disease occurring, and there was no cure. Nobody even knew how to begin looking for a cure. My colleagues, they were abandoning me in my time of need, after everything I had done for them.

(The doctor busts the window of an ambulance and unlocks it from the inside. He climbs into the driver’s seat.)

Well, I wasn’t going to let this happen to me. I wouldn’t give up that easily.

(Ambulance speeds away from the hospital with the siren blaring, swerving recklessly across traffic.)

I would do whatever it took to make myself better again.

(It is night, and you see Dr. Flesh, now as skinny and pale as he is now, wearing his bloody scrubs, breaking into a home and shooting people in the head.)

I needed cadavers to experiment on.

(The doctor is in the back of the hospital, operating grotesquely on a dead body. He removes all the victim’s organs and places them on a metal tray.)

I just needed to find the right set of organs to replace my own, that’s all.

(Dr Flesh operates on himself with no anesthesia; he’s wide awake. He replaces all his own organs with the freshly harvested ones. He then sows himself back up.)

My body, it kept rejecting all the organs I transplanted into myself. I was getting desperate.

(Camera shows the doctor sitting slumped in the back of his ambulance, covered with blood. Multiple jagged scars crisscross his stomach and torso. The back of the ambulance has been converted into an operating room, with blood and miscellaneous body parts everywhere.)

There seemed to be nobody with just the right combination of organs that I needed.  But when I win this competition, I’ll find the right person and finally be able to restore my body to the way it used to be.

(The doctor wakes up in the driver’s seat and ignites the engine. Pandemic zooms away from the carnage.)

***

I spelled the doctor's name differently at different times on purpose, to show his character transformation.

***

A large, armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Hammerhead sits amongst the wreckage, and Ross is unconscious with his head against the steering wheel. His voice narrates:

I hate fought my way through half of the competition. I really didn’t like killing these people, but I had no other choice. After I had defeated Mr. Ash, my mind just shut off to escape from the terror of the contest. It took me back to happier times…

(Camera fades to a party scene in a basement filled with teenagers. Ross is among them.)

Graduation was probably the best time of my life. Me and all my friends had just finished high school, and were partying all the time, not a care in the world.

(People are dancing, laughing and carrying on, having a great time. Ross has his arm around a girl.)

We still had three whole months to get ready for college. The summer stretched ahead of us. The world was our oyster.

(Someone stands on a ping pong table and makes a toast to their graduation. They all swig some beer.)

There was plenty of drinking going on, but I wasn’t worried. I always could hold my liquor.

(People are shown chugging beer and downing shots at the bar in the basement.)

Then, my friends and I got this great idea.

(Ross and three other guys group together and leave the party, laughing and yelling as they stumbled through the yard in the dark.)

We decided to steal some monster truck tires from the nearby Zorko Bros. Scrapyard and fix my friend’s old truck up with them.

(The boys sneak into a junk yard and come out rolling four giant tires, high-fiving each other.)

It was going to be the ultimate climax to a great party.

(The four boys are in a garage, working on the truck. They manage to replace all the tires.)

A joyride would be the perfect way to celebrate our victory.

(The boys all clamber into the pickup, Ross driving, one in shotgun, and the other two in the bed.)

I have to admit, I was kinda drunk, but what could go wrong?

(The monster truck creeps slowly through the neighborhood, running up on sidewalks and into people’s yards. The boys are hollering and headbanging to the blasting radio.)

Then it was time to take ‘er out on the main road.

(Hammerhead turns onto a big boulevard through the center of town. Ross hits the throttle hard and the truck roars across the pavement.)

We were having such a great time, we felt invincible. I guess that’s why we didn’t see the red light up ahead.

(Hammerhead approaches a red light, but makes no indication of slowing down. There appears there are no other cars on the road.)

I thought we have the road to ourselves, it was so late. I was dead wrong.

(Hammerhad zooms through the intersection, but as he crosses there is a terrible screeching sound followed by a crunch.)

We had been in an accident. I was too drunk to realize how bad this could be.

(Hammerhead rests askew at the intersection, a small sedan stuck beneath its tires, crushed completely on one side. Smoke steams from the hood.)

It seemed unreal. I mean, accidents only happen to other people, right?

(The boys jump down from the truck dazed. There is little damage to the truck.)
I was sure the people we hit would be understanding. I didn’t know how bad it was.

(The man in the sedan screams in agony. Blood pours out from over the door. You see the mangled bodies of a woman in the passenger seat and a teenage girl in the back. )

I couldn’t believe what we had done. I was now a murderer.

(The man screams in the driver’s seat. “NOOOO!!!!  ANGELA!!!!! KRISTA!!!!!! YOU KILLED THEM!!! THEY’RE DEAD,  THEY’RE DEAD YOU MONSTERS!!!!!”)

Then I blacked out from the shock.

(Ross falls to the ground.)

I tried to kill myself when I woke up.

(Ross sits on the ground at the scene of the accident. His friends have fled. He is sobbing, about to cut his throat with a piece of broken glass. Sirens wail in the distance.)

The police and rescue crew got there before I could, though.

(Ross is put in the back of an ambulance, and his ambulance and three more zoom away with a firetruck and police car.)

I was physically fine, but my mind was destroyed. They sent me to the asylum.

(Flash to Ross sitting in his cell.)

Well, all that happened is subject to change. When I win this horrible competition, I’ll go back and redo that night, and fix the pieces of my life. I’ll be free of this horrible sin.

(Hammerhead’s engine starts, and it rumbles out of the arena into the night.)

---

Hmm, for some reason I have a feeling how HammerHead's ending will go, but I won't say.

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I'm not so sure about that, I think I have a pretty clever twist for this one ;)

And Hammerhead's story doesn't work with the game storyline that the first competition happened 15 years ago, that's just how it turned out.

---

I was gonna say, implying that this is what happened to Calypso's family def doesnt go along with the storyline. but a cool lil twist in the story, I'll say that much

---

A large, armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Crimson Fury sits amongst the wreckage, with Agent Shepherd sitting at the wheel with his head bowed, his face a hard mask behind his sunglasses. His voice narrates:

I had been trying to catch up to that Mr. Ash character for years, and I had finally settled my score with him. But that was just a bonus; he wasn’t the real reason I was here. I started to drift off into memories…

(Camera fades out to a city scene. The streets are filled with crowds of people, pressing against each other, yelling enthusiastically. A parade is underway, an entourage of luxury vehicles proceeds slowly through the barricaded streets.)

It was the day of the parade, to celebrate the inauguration victory.

(In the center of the entourage is a convertible Cadillac with a genial politician sitting in the back, waving warmly to the crowd. He is met with warm cheers all over the crowd.)

A parade with the president in a convertible? It was basically the secret service’s worst nightmare. Now that I look back, I wonder how I could have been so stupid as to let this happen.

(The procession turns a corner onto a large, central boulevard that cuts straight through the city.)

I was high above the celebration, fulfilling my duty. It was my job to make sure everything went according to plan.

(Agent Shepherd stands twenty stories up from the street, atop an old parking garage. He stands motionless, his trademark scowl plastered across his face, partially obscured by his sunglasses. The wind whips his long dark hair and suit with a tail around him.)

And for once, I felt noticeably confident. The parade was almost over, and all my snipers were still in place, ready to shoot for the kill at anything that seemed the least bit suspicious.

(Camera pans across the city rooftops to show a number of snipers, clad in urban camo, situated in various perches above the crowds.)

But something happened to change all that.

(Camera goes back to Agent Shepherd. He cocks his head intently, as if straining to hear some sound. He turns around, but the rooftop is deserted. He turns back around, unsettled. Suddenly, he utters a startled grunt and collapses to the ground, limbs limp and paralyzed. Two men are standing behind him where before there was no one. They are dressed in completely black, skintight garments and are wearing gorilla masks. One has a very imposing looking rifle strapped to his back.)

Out of nowhere, I was hit from behind. The assailants must have nailed me with strange blows in some obscure pressure points, because I found myself unable to move or defend myself. I just fell like jelly onto the ground, my limbs were no longer under my control.

(The gorillaman without the gun quickly binds Agent Shepherd with ropes and covers his mouth with duct tape, before he can protest.)

They bound me up so quickly I couldn’t react, or yell. I was a sitting duck.

(The gorillaman with the rifle quickly and expertly mounts his weapon and fires a single shot down into the crowd.)

I had no idea what they were doing, but I sure didn’t like it.
(Camera quickly zooms downward to the crowd, blurring the shot. It freezes. A clean bullet wound has been shot straight through the president’s head. Blood has splattered all over the interior of the car. The president slowly keels over, a glazed, unfocused look in his eyes. The crowd is absolutely silent.)

I couldn’t believe what was happening. It had to be a nightmare. I had to be dreaming.

(Agent  Shepherd lies on the ground, his eyes wide and unbelieving. The gorillamen quickly disappear from the rooftop, leaving the gun behind.)

I had failed. Those gorilla freaks had somehow snuck up on me and gotten the best of me. It was impossible. I guess I had gotten too cocky, let my guard down. I had never thought to defend my own position, I was too confident in my own abilities.

(Agent Shepherd is alone and prone on the rooftop. His walkie-talkie crackles and a voice comes through the speaker. “Agent Shepherd… Agent Shepherd, are you there?”)

But I had an even bigger problem. I had been framed.

(The walkie-talkie voice comes through stronger and more frantic. “Agent Shepherd, what happened?! The shot came from your rooftop!”)

I knew I had to get out of there fast. I had to find those gorillamen.

(Agent S starts rolling around on the rooftop, groaning behind the tape. The walkie-talkie voice continues to blast through.)

The feeling was starting to come back to my limbs. Good thing, too.

(The Agent is able to free himself from the ropes and duct tape. The walkie-talkie voice yells, “Agent come in!”)

It would look all too suspicious. The murder weapon was there right beside me. I knew they would find it if I tried to hide it, and they’d see me try to take it with me as I escaped. I had no options.

(Agent Shepherd sprints down from the rooftop, through the parking garage.)

It was no use to answer my walkie-talkie at this point. I was already as good as guilty.

(The Agent climbs into Crimson Fury, sitting in the parking garage. He revs the engine and peels out.)

Those gorillas were long gone. The whole town thought I killed the president. I was a wanted fugitive.

(Crimson Fury speeds away from the city, up to the nearby mountains.)

I had been on the run too long. Now it was my time. I was halfway through this twisted contest. When I win, I’ll finally have my revenge on those gorillamen, and clear my name. The city will welcome me with open arms, and I’ll get my job back. Hell, I might even get a promotion.

(Agent Shepherd looks up from his ponderings and ignites his Lambo’s engines. Crimson Fury speeds away from the carnage.)

---

A large armored firetruck is blown apart and catches on fire. Bohemian sits amongst the wreckage, with abundant visible damage. Dandelion clutches the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing heavily. Her voice narrates in a wavering, yet determined tone.
     
Halfway there. I had battled my way through half of this hellish tournament so far. Phoenix was the toughest opponent I had had to face, and that battle could have easily gone his way. I’m lucky to be alive. Not the first time for that.

(Dandelion shakes her head, trying to regain her composure.)

Be strong, girl. You’re doing fine. Ugh, my head. I still haven’t decided if I’m repulsed at all this killing, or perversely satisfied with sweet justice. At least some justice is being served; I’ve rid the world of a handful of murderous freaks by now. I’m finally making a bit of a difference. I can remember all the times that I tried so hard in the past, but in vain…

(Camera fades out to a scene in a parking lot. It is night, and Dandelion sits on the curb, wearing a floral-print dress, with a number of papers clutched in her hand. Her face is unscarred. The parking lot is that of Midtown City Hall. The sound of a door being closed and locked is heard, followed by slow footsteps. A man in a suit descends down a staircase and walks to the parking lot. Dandelion stands up and addresses the man.

“Hello, Mr. Mayor.”

The mayor sighs. “What can I do for you?” The camera focuses on him, revealing a man growing old and scrawny. His hair is graying and a number of lines are etched into his weary face.

“I have here a petition with 10,000 signatures. That’s a lot of signatures, Mr. Mayor. The citizens of Midtown want an end to this annual ‘Twisted Metal’ madness. We want you to do something about it.”

The mayor laughs a worn, humorless laugh. “Oh, I wish I could do something. You think I haven’t tried? I just can’t seem to be able to touch Calypso; somehow there’s never any concrete evidence to put him away for decades. And our police do the best they can to shut his cronies away in that Blackfield hellhole, but he always manages to bust them out every year, like clockwork.”

“Mr. Mayor, please. I don’t want to hear excuses. We’re sick and tired of excuses. We just want a safe town to live in, without killers roaming the streets. When we elected you, you promised you’d clean this town up. You’re not doin’ so great.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. I understand better than anybody.”

“I don’t think you do, Mr. Mayor. We’re tired of living in a half-destroyed city all the time. We’re tired of paying mountains of taxes that are eaten up by the reconstruction every year. We want to be able to step foot outside simply without fearing for our lives. There must be something you can do, I mean, you’re the mayor.”

The mayor shakes his head and averts his eyes. “Not for much longer. Reelections are coming soon. I doubt I can hold on to office.”

“Well, just take this. You’ll think of something, Mr. Mayor, I know you will. There are still some of us who haven’t lost hope.”

Dandelion gives the petition to the mayor. He takes it hesitantly, then smiles a half-hearted, defeated smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The mayor steps into his car and drives away. Dandelion is left standing on the sidewalk. She slowly begins to trudge home. Rain starts to lightly drizzle the town.)

He was a nice man, the mayor. His heart was in the right place, but this city just broke him down; it took his hope. It can do that to anybody. It’s too bad he was murdered soon after our meeting…

(Camera goes to Dandelion sitting at home in a small living room, reading a book. A digital clock on a nightstand reads 11:23 pm.)

It was about a month later, and elections were right around the corner. Mr. Mayor was running again, and it actually looked like he might win a second time, considering his only opponent.

(Dandelion picks up a tv remote and flips on a small, antenna television to the news. The newscaster blares, “The Mayor is currently in the lead in the poles; Mr. Calypso trails by a wide margin. It looks like our Mayor might have this one in the bag folks.”

Suddenly, the screen goes into fuzzy static. Dandelion sighs and gets up to adjust the antenna, but just then she hears a slow knock on the door. She stares at the door intently, then at the clock. She walks over to the door cautiously, and places her hand on the knob.

The knock rings out slowly again, three short raps.

Dandelion hesitantly twists the knob and starts to open the door a crack. SLAM! A man bursts through the door, so fast he’s just a blur, grabs Dandelion and pins her to the wall.  Her front is pressed against the wall, her face being crushed against the plaster, and he holds her arms clamped behind her back. She yells out and pain in and surprise. He laughs.

“This is just a pleasant visit for your friendly neighborhood election agent. I just dropped by to convince you of the logic of voting for Calypso.” The man speaks in a slow, harsh, unstable voice. He is muscular and has a shaved head. His eyes are completely obscured by large, black sunglasses, and his mouth is twisted into a demented grin, teeth barred. Strange, bloody appendages protrude from his sleeves where his hands should be. Instead of hands, he has a grisly collection of mismatched metal blades, tools, and blunt weapons.

“What are you doing?! Please let go of me!”

The man laughs again, a cold, ringing boom. “Now now, let’s not rush things. I just want to chat.”

He twists her arm harder against her back, close to the breaking point. Dandelion gasps with pain. “Now, who are you voting in elections tomorrow? TELL ME!!”

“The… the mayor. N-not Calypso.”

“WRONG ANSWER!” The man twists Dandelion’s arm violently, and a sick crack is heard. Dandelion screams.

“The mayor is dead. I killed him myself. I do hope you’ll be voting for Calypso tomorrow…”

“N-n-never…” Dandelion gasps.

The man roars with rage and throws Dandelion to the ground. He goes down on her and grabs her hips with a twisted laugh. “You sure are pretty…”

Dandelion screams again and tries to push him off, but he’s too strong. “Get off of me, you sick bastard! Leave me alone!” She sobs.

The man growls and roughly seizes her thighs and moves his gruesome appendages up her legs, cutting her skin. She moans softly. The man positions himself on top of her, and she can’t push him off. Dandelion is able to stretch her arm to reach a dagger with a flower embroidered on the handle sitting on an end table, and plunges it deep into the man’s chest. He lets out a savage yell and leaps off of her.

“You bitch…” he spits. He roars and lashes out with his hand-thing, slashing across Dandelion’s face, leaving several deep, jagged cuts. Blood starts pouring out from her face. She screams a frantic, panicked scream.

“I’ll come back for you…” he mutters, slashing through the front door until it caves in. He runs through and jumps in a strange, conglomeration of a vehicle, igniting the engine, peels out, and speeds away.)

The man who did this to me, he’s still out there somewhere…

(Dandelion runs her hand slowly across her scarred face.)

That’s why I have to keep fighting. There are so many people like him out there… I need to do something about it.

(Dandelion looks up from her reminiscence. She turns the key in the ignition. Bohemian coughs to life and gently vibrates.)

I’m really the only one left who’s still strong enough to take a stand. I need to rid the world of these creeps and killers. So many people are counting on me… I can’t let them down…

(Bohemian’s tires spin and the VW roars away from the wreckage.)

***

I hope you likey. And I noticed that my bios get longer and longer with each character. Science has no explanation for this  :P

Endings coming soon, then perhaps new characters

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Was that Cage that attacked Dandelion? Either way, looking forward to the endings :)

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Twas indeed. I didn't want to say it outright, but I thought I made it decently obvious. And I'm always glad to please

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Dandeloin.....LOL. It's definately original for sure.

I got a kick out of it.

---

Just a little extra info and the setup for the final boss battle for any character:

Level 1: Downtown Midtown. The city has been reduced to rubble from tournaments of years past. Fight your way through the ruins to defeat your opponents and advance to the next battleground.

Level 2: Interstate. If you can fight your way through the traffic and six opponents, you can choose your next arena by picking which off ramp to take. Choose wisely…

Levels 3, 5, 6, 7 (These can be done in any order, depending on what off ramps you take):
-Badlands: There’s nowhere to hide out here. Just the dusty old highway and some ramshackle houses. If you can keep moving through the huge desert expanse and defeat eight enemies, you’ve earned your right to advance.
-Whitegrove Forest: Weave a treacherous path through the trees and over the hilly terrain to bring your opponents to their knees, or fight it out in the surrounding open fields. If you can find and destroy the old sawmill, you will be rewarded for you efforts…
-Caverns: You never know where your next opponent could be hiding in the gloom. The darkness, twists and turns will their toll on any driver, so beware.
-Coast: Wreak some havoc on the sleepy beaches and condominiums of Whitegrove City. Watch out for the strong undertow, or you just might get swept out to sea…

Level 4: Cemetery. Only two opponents to defeat? Should be easy, right? Guess again. Mr. Ash is lurking in the shadows with his firetruck, waiting, ready to incinerate your soul and send you straight to Hell.

Level 8: Whitegrove City. The seaside metropolis of Whitegrove awaits you. Mr. Ash is back with a vengeance and has rounded up some of his deadliest allies to help burn you to a crisp. Can you locate the switches that hold to key to victory while evading the bosses’ onslaught?

***

“…And out of the ashes of death, the Phoenix rises again… And I’ve brought some friends…” Mr. Ash’s voice whispers menacingly as the screen fades in to a city scene. [Insert car] sits stationary in an intersection, with three vehicles rumbling along the crossroads towards him, guns blazing. On the left is a giant double-decker bus with cracked headlights and a humungous turret mounted on the roof, rotating and shooting off cannonballs in all directions, which ricochet chaotically off of anything they hit. It’s painted a dull red with a British flag on the side. The second level of windows is completely barred in with crowbars and barbed wire. On the right is a San Francisco style streetcar rumbling along a rail track, painted jet black with blood splattered all over the sides. Its usual open sides are welded over with metal panels. A vast array of advanced Gatling guns protrudes from the sides at all angles, shooting holes through the skyscrapers beside it. In center is Mr. Ash, driving his firetruck, Phoenix, once again. It has been hastily and inexpertly pieced back together after its destruction halfway through the tournament. As it rolls forward, ash and cinders fall off its roof, igniting small fires on the road. The whole truck is gently burning from the roof, but it isn’t consumed. The bosses close in around [Insert Car]…

“Midknight, Streetcarnage, and I will make mincemeat out of you…”

***

Random note: If anyone wants to use any of my characters as a guest in their fanfics, I wouldn't mind.

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Hmm, so you use 3 end bosses instead of 1? Interesting idea.

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Who do you guys think is my best/most original character so far? Just wonderin

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maxamillionaire wrote on 05/02/10 at 01:27:45:

Who do you guys think is my best/most original character so far? Just wonderin

I'm thinking Bohemian, Pandemic, and Riptide.

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Riptde, Dandilion, and Pandemic.

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Magnum wrote on 05/02/10 at 16:23:33:

Riptde, Dandilion, and Pandemic.

We're on the same page then lol.

Also, looking forward to some of the endings. I bet they will be great.

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Yea I find myself becoming the most attached to those three, and Glory Days too, just cuz I really like the dummy driving premise. Riptide is my number one though, he was the first good idea I had. And I've already got two endings written, for riptide and glory days, I've just got to do tomahawks cuz I want to keep them in order. I know what I'm going to do Pandemic and I'm excited about it, but I want to keep them in order like I said

---

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Riptide sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning. Ryan’s voice narrates:

I had won the contest.

(Camera shows still shot of the right profile of Ryan’s face in the driver’s seat.)
Shortly thereafter, I was informed where to go to collect my prize.

(A raven descends onto the doorframe of Riptide clutching a torn, yellowed piece of parchment in its talons. Ryan takes the note from the bird, which caws and flies away. He uncrumples it, and sees that it has a message scrawled on it in black ink. It simply says, ZORKO BROS. SALVAGE YARD.)

So back to the junkyard it was.

(Riptide speeds by on a dusty, deserted road, pulling up to a junkyard.)

I wasn’t really quite sure what to expect. Would I be greeted by Calypso, or was he really dead?

(A door slams. Ryan exits the woody wagon in a clearing amidst the towers of deceased automobiles. A well-dressed, clean cut man in a dark Armani suit stands before him.

“Greetings, driver. Congratulations on your victory.”

“Who are you? You’re not Calypso.”

“You are correct in saying that. My name is Joseph Kane, and I am the head of Twisted Metal now. Regrettably, Mr. Calypso has suffered a quite… unfortunate accident and is no longer with us. He passed down control of this tournament to me.” The darkest of smiles flashes across the man’s face, but the look is gone in an instant, replaced by his stern, emotionless expression.

“I see. Well, I don’t really care who you are. I just want my wish.”

“Ah yes, your wish. You are indeed the winner, and I am a man of my word. What is your heart’s deepest desire, driver?”

 “I don’t want to be a freak anymore. I don’t want people to be scared of me when they look at me. I want to have limbs again.”

“I understand.” Kane walks over to a nearby car corpse and opens the trunk. Ryan comes over and peers into it with him.

“I have gone through the trouble of collecting the limbs of all the drivers you have defeated in my contest,” says Kane. Ryan stares in a mixture of disgusted horror and lustful rapture at the sight before him. In the trunk are piles of human limbs, bloody arms and legs severed at the biceps and thighs.
“Sweet dreams…” says Kane softly, suddenly sticking a long syringe into Ryan’s shoulder.

“Wait… w-w-what are y…” Ryan’s voice trails off as he suddenly collapses on the ground, unconscious.

Camera shows Kane leaning over Ryan from Ryan’s perspective, a twisted smile on his face…

Darkness.)

When I woke up, I was all alone. That Kane guy was nowhere to be seen.

(From Ryan’s eyes, camera fades into view, wobbling as he stands up. The junkyard is dark and deserted, except for Ryan and Riptide.)

I noticed I felt different.

(Camera looks down and at Ryan’s body. He lifts his new arms up to eye level, realizing he has them. He twists them and bends them, trying to get a feel for them. The limbs have been sewn to Ryan’s torso shoddily and inexpertly, leaving a bloody mess of stitches.)

I had arms.

(Camera looks down farther and shows that Ryan is standing; he has legs. The legs are sewn and gory just like the arms.)

I had legs too.

(Ryan walks around, trying out his new legs. He has trouble maintaining his balance.)

But something didn’t feel right.

(Ryan growls and manipulates his limbs, still trying to get the kinks out.)

My new limbs didn’t feel the way I thought they would. I felt strange. They didn’t feel like a part of me. It felt like some other, strange creature had been grafted on to me. They felt alive apart from me. These weren’t my arms!

(Ryan shakes his head and roars at the junkyard, shaking his limbs violently.)

I was hideous! I was even worse than before! That Kane had tricked me. I was still a monster.
(Ryan yells again in rage at the sky. He grabs a rusty piece of metal from a nearby car, tearing it off the frame. He holds the jagged, blade-like edge to his arm at the stitches…

Camera goes dark as a sick chopping sound is heard, accompanied by a haunting scream of agony.)

I guess my mission isn’t over yet.

(Ryan slams the door of Riptide shut with his remaining original arm and ignites the engine. His body has returned to its disfigured form, his stumps raw and spewing fresh blood, soaking the interior of his car.)

Way I see it, there are some limbs out there for me somewhere. Somebody’s gotta be a good match for me.

(Riptide crashes through the junkyard gates.)

I don’t care who gets in my way, I don’t care who tries to stop me. I won’t stop searching until I find what I’m lookin for.

(Riptide speeds off into the distance along a deserted desert road. The song ‘Black’ by Pearl Jam begins to play, accompanied by the sound of a clock striking midnight. The end credits roll.)

***

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Glory Days sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning. Mel’s voice narrates:

It seems the contest had come to an end. Wasn’t that a merry old time, Woodward?

(Camera shows a still shot of Mel and Woodward inside the car.)

I don’t suppose you know what we do now…?

(A raven alights on the old Bel Aire with a piece of parchment in its beak. Mel manipulates the dummy so it takes the paper, which says ZORKO BROS SALVAGE YARD.)

Alrighty then. The junkyard it is.

(Glory Days speeds by on a dusty, deserted road, pulling up to the scrapyard. Gravel crunches under the tires as it pulls through the gates into a clearing between towers of rusted cars. Glory Days stops and settles, and the passenger door opens as Mel staggers out, holding the dummy in one hand. A well dressed, clean cut man in a dark Armani suit stands before him.

“Whooee. That was actually pretty darned fun, Mr.”

“My dear fellow, did you drive the whole time through the contest from the passenger’s side?”

Mel laughs. “No, it wasn’t me. Woodward’s a much better driver than me.” Mel shows the dummy to the man.

The man pauses. “I see. Anyways, congratulations Mr. Clemens. You are this year’s victor. My name is Joseph Kane, the mastermind behind this tournament.”

“Joey m’boy! How’d such a nice young man like you get involved with a game like this?”

“I… inherited it,” replied Kane, the darkest of smiles flashing across his face, but only for an instant. “Well, as the winner of the competition, you are entitled to one wish. What is it your heart desires most, Mr. Clemens?”

“That’s right, I almost forgot. My wish… oh yes. I miss my son, Mr. Kane. I want to see my son again.”  

“Your wish,” Kane snaps his fingers, “Is granted.” A slight, dark smile plays across his face.

Mel blinks, then looks around. “Wha…”

“Don’t you see, Mr. Clemens? Your son has been here the whole time. He’s never left your side. Woodward… he is your real son, Mr. Clemens.”

Mel blinks again and looks at the dummy. A look of dawning comprehension gradually breaks out across his face. “Ahh… yes… I see so clearly now. Thank you, Mr. Kane! Of course! Woodward, my son, my son…”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Clemens.”

“Oh, it’s so good to have my son back again. I can’t thank you enough.”

Mel hugs the dummy enthusiastically to his chest, then heartily shakes Kane’s hand. He then clambers back into his Bel Aire and puts Woodward in the driver’s seat. The engine ignites and Glory days begin to roll away from the scrapyard.

“My pleasure, Mr. Clemens…” Kane cannot suppress a grin as the Bel Aire exits the junk yard. He begins to laugh a dark, deep laugh.

“Thank you for playing Twisted Metal. I do hope to see you back again next year.”)

I had my son back. That was the most important thing in the whole world.

(A fire burns in Kane’s eyes, but his face gradually fades away as an image of Glory Days speeding off into the distance is superimposed over it. His laugh fills the air again as a clock strikes midnight and ‘Black’ by Pearl Jam begins to play. End credits roll.)

---

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Tomahawk sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning Chief Red Falcon narrates:

Thankfully, mercifully, the contest was over.

(Camera is on the inside of the jeep in the passenger’s seat, showing the right profile of the Chief’s face.)

The spirits had guided me to victory. I was ready to see the man behind this and end this abomination against nature called Twisted Metal.

(A raven alights on the doorframe of Tomahawk and caws)

What is it, little one? I must go to the junkyard? Thank you. Now fly far away from here and be free. I wish I could do the same.

(Tomahawk skids away from the city, and the camera fades away and then back in from a bird’s eye view as Tomahawk rumbles down a narrow desert road.)
I could feel my heart beating like a stampede of buffalo. These wretched hours were finally coming to an end, and I was about to meet the man responsible for the death of my family. How would I react?

(The jeep comes to the scrapyard and bursts through the rickety metal gates, skidding to a halt in a clearing amidst towering heaps of lifeless autos. The Chief climbs out of the driver’s seat and slams the door shut, walking to face the man before him. He is clean-cut and is well dressed, adorning himself with a dark Armani suit.

“Congratulations, Mr. Falcon. You have won this year’s contests.”

“I believe you mean Chief Red Falcon.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Yes. My apologies.”

“Might I ask who you are?”

“My name is Joseph Kane. I am the head of Twisted Metal.”

“So, you are indeed the man responsible for this madness? You’re the one who has caused all this destruction?”)

I could feel the anger rising in me, like a storm far away on the horizon. I was thinking of all the deaths this man had caused, all the pain. My people… all gone…


(Kane laughs, a sinister sound piercing the sky. “Me? Why, I have destroyed nothing at all, Chief, nothing at all. You are the sole agent of destruction between us. And you really are quite good at it, you realize? It was such a beautiful battle… what you did out there tonight.”

“Shut up!” roars the Chief, his face red, his chest heaving. “How dare you accuse me of such monstrosities?! I am a proud warrior, but I fight not to destroy. I fight to preserve.”)

I could not contain my anger much longer. How dare this man, this Joseph Kane, accuse me of being a monster, of being like him? I am nothing like him!

(“Yet, what have you preserved… You shall see things from my point of view in due time. Anyways, I see you are not in the mood to debate. As I have promised, I now offer you one wish. What is it that your heart desires most?”

“I wish the world to return to the way it was before this tournament take place. I want to live coinciding with nature again, with my people… I wish for there to be balance and harmony.”

“Nature, harmony… we must agree on what these words mean, Mr. Falcon. Nature is always changing, altering, varying. Natu--”

“My name, is Chief Red Falcon,” says the Chief through gritted teeth.

“As I was saying, nature cannot be simplified to a precise definition. It is static, organic, adapting, constantly reinventing itself. Darwin’s life cycle--”

“Stop your drivel! Nature is pure and incorruptible! Nature is eternal and ubiquitou--”

“—determines that those species who are the strongest will adapt to an everchanging environment and continue to survive. And you--”

“What do you know about nature?! How can you possibly grasp the glorious coexistence of man and spirit on earth as I have? How can you put yourself on the same level as m--”

“—And you, my friend, are the strongest, most adaptable species. You have earned the right to survive and pass on your genetic imprint, Mr. Falcon

With each interruption, the Chief becomes increasingly incensed. His fists are clenched tight as and his knuckles are white. He is biting his lower lip so hard that a drop of blood is forming. He is shaking with rage. His eyes seem clouded and faraway.)

This man, I could not take much more. He was insulting my very way of life, the essence of my being, belittling it, slandering it…

(“Yes, you are apparently the current masterpiece of nature, the pinnacle of genetic perfection. Survival of the fittest, Mr. Falcon. I congratulate you.”

“You…”

“This, this battleground, this so called ‘chaos’ that is Twisted Metal, this is evidently your element, Mr. Falcon. This is where you belong, this is your destiny here on Earth, this is your balan--”

“LIES!!” roars the Chief, screaming maniacally into the sky. He abruptly takes his bow from the quiver on his back and expertly strings an arrow in less than a second. With a feral cry, he lets the arrow go, which whips through the air and pierces Kane’s chest with a dull noise.

Kane clutches the wound, looking at it in shock, his mouth moving but no words coming out. He staggers, loses his balance, and falls to the ground. The Chief rushes over and stands menacingly above him, stringing another arrow, ready to deliver the finishing blow…

“Wait… Chief Falcon…”

The Chief pauses briefly, the bow strained taught, an inch from Kane’s forehead. His eyes narrow with loathing. “Speak now with your final breath, Joseph Kane.”

“There is… a band of native people…” gasps Kane, drawing in short, ragged breaths. His eyes are darting all over the junkyard as his chest heaves violently.

“…farther west. I could... I could have told you how to find them, to join them, bu-but-but-but now…”

Kane coughs and gurgles, spewing a mouthful of blood onto his now dusty suit.

“What?! Who? Tell me where they are!” screams the Chief, shaking Kane by the shoulders.

“…but now, you-you’ll never know…” rasps Kane. Then his head falls limp on the ground and his eyes glaze over. His chest moves no more.

“No…” whispers the Chief.

“NOOOO!”  he screams at the sky. With a vicious growl, he takes out a small ax from a pouch on his garments and slams it down into Kane’s lifeless head with a dull schiiiik noise. He roars again, then runs back into his jeep, ignites the engine, and guns it in reverse through the junkyard gates, leaving Kane’s corpse on the ground. A pool of blood slowly spreads around him.)

I realized, at that moment, that I had been defeated. The Kane man had gotten the better of me, outsmarted me. I had taken his life, but he had reduced me to a savage.

(Tomahawk speeds away from the junkyard.)

Not only that, but I realized he was right. I am not the same man I once was. I am darker, angrier; I cannot control myself. This contest has transformed me into a murderer.
(Camera is inside Tomahawk, showing the right side of the Chief’s face, a hard scowl.)

If there really is a band of native people like myself still roaming the plains of this once-proud nation, I have to find them. They are my only hope. I must locate them and join them; returning to the ways of my ancestors, living in harmony with all living things.

(Tomahawk zooms by a stationary camera.)

This contest has corrupted my essence. No, I have allowed by essence to be corrupted. This is my fault.

(Camera is inside Tomahawk. A single tear runs down the Chief’s face.)

Spirits, I’m infinitely sorry that I have failed you. I realize that my quest for balance and harmony is not over. It has only just begun. Now I must find a way to restore balance within myself.

(Tomahawk speeds off into the distance as a clock strikes twelve. The screen fades to black, ‘Black’ by Pearl Jam starts to play, and the end credits roll.)

***

Again, if anyone wants to use any of my characters in their fic, be my guest.

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Riptide's ending was one I didn't see coming. I think Glory Day's ending was the best ending so far. Tomahawk's was a little confusing to me but all 3 were decent endings.

Joseph Kane is 'son' from TMB isn't he?

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Thank you :) Yea I hope you got the kinda creepy feeling I wanted to convey for Glory Days's ending, by this point Mel has just kinda lost it and is prertty much insane, Kane just helped him get there by 'granting' his wish (he did nothing except snap  ;) ) Was Tomahawk's confusing because of the subject or just cuz of how I wrote it with the alternating dialogue? And i'm glad you liked the Riptide twist I'm pretty happy with how he came out, and now he has a reason to compete next year. That's my goal for all the characters.

And yes, Joseph Kane is the son from TMB driving yellowjacket

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help me out here... Glory Days, did he ever have a son or has he always made the dummy out to be his son?

these endings were awesome, dude. I saw Riptide's coming, but it was still appropriate. kinda reminded me of some Dr. Giggles shit or something

I'd love to use your characters in a fic, but I'd still feel weird even with you saying its cool. I could use Tomahawk in my next battle fic however

also, I wouldnt mind doing a model of Riptide, all beach-rusted and rotted out. seems I could do alot with him

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The driver of glory days did orginally have  a son, he was playing with him when the burglars came and murdered him. Then mel just carried the dummy around instead, but until the tournament he knew the dummy was just a dummy. The tournament just pushed him over the edge. I tried to show that progression but I don't think I was able to make it clear enough.

Thanks for the praise, and by all means use my characters, tweak their storylines to fit in your fic if you want. You can even kill em off real quick or something if you want, I just think it would b e cool for them to cameo. And go right ahead with the riptide model too, that would be sweet. I picture a 1950 ford

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yea, the story with him was a lil sketchy but either way could have worked. like he could've been nuts from the start and never even had a son, just the dummy.. or watching his son getting killed pushed him over the edge, and he just "replaced" his son with the dummy to numb himself

I can use Tomahawk, but the storyline I made up for him while at work today would make him significantly different than how you had him in your story... or maybe a continuation of his "new" look on life. he'd feel similar to Nightwolf from Mortal Kombat

as for the model, I'd use a Mercury Woody... complete with roof rack, surfboard (with shark teeth markings), rust and discoloration from constantly being on the beach, dragging seaweed underneath the car and hanging out of the windows, bloody interior from the character... altho finding a model for the guy might be tricky. I'd probably have to find just a plain guy, add the clothes and hair, then melt away his missing limbs

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Ah I never thought of that for Glory Days, never having a son just deluding himself with the dummy the whole time. That's good. And yea do whatever you want for the model, I don't know that much about modeling so I don't really have anything to add. I look forward to seeing what you can come up with

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With a "significantly different" storyline for Falcon, why not just change the name and make it your own character?

I totally thought of something different that would have been a good twist for Tomahawk. But since you're giving them all reasons as well as making them available to compete again, it wouldn't really work out. I felt so far, his end twist was weakest.

I don't want to choose a fav just yet, but so far I think your best overall is Riptide. I think it could have been Glory Days (I thought along the same lines as TDC).

Looking forward to Pandemic.

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Is this going to be updated soon? I sure hope so.

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Ahh such a loyal fanbase, anxiously awaiting my next installment  ;D Sorry it took longer than usualy, the past couple weeks I've been busy with AP tests and stuff. Here are the endings for Hammerhead and Pandemic:

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Hammerhead sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning. Ross narrates:

Thankfully, mercifully, the contest was over. I didn’t have to kill anybody else anymore.

(Camera is inside the truck, showing Ross clenching the steering wheel with white knuckles.)

I didn’t really know what was going to happen next. It was time to claim my prize, right?

(A raven lands on Hammerhead clutching a yellowed parchment. Ross unfolds it and reads the message written on it.)

I guess I had to go back to that wretched junkyard…

(Hammerhead speeds away from the ruined city.)

Still, I felt lighter than I had in a long time. I could change things with this wish. I could make it so that night never happened.

(Hammerhead rumbles down a dusty desert road.)

Everything was going to go back to normal…

(Hammerhead crashes through the gates of the junkyard and screeches to a halt in a clearing of auto piles. Ross jumps down from the cab.)

I remember this place all too well… This is where we got the tires to the truck. I shudder just thinking about all the pain these tires have caused.

(Ross walks slowly across the junkyard, the camera closing in on his dirty combat boots kicking up little clouds of dust with each step. A clean cut man in a dark Armani suit stands before him.

“Congratulations, driver. You are the winner of this year’s competition.”

“And who are you? Are you this Calypso guy I keep hearing about?”

The man laughs quietly to himself. “No. I’m afraid Calypso is no longer in control of the tournament.” The darkest of smiles flashes across his face, but only for an instance.  “My name is Joseph Kane.”

“Well, Mr. Kane, I’ve come to claim my prize. As the winner of this horrible competition, I want to go back to the night of the joyride. I want a chance to do it all over again, and make sure it ends differently…”

“As you wish.” Kane raises his hand, about to snap his fingers. Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot fills the air and Kane staggers backwards, clutching his shoulder. Blurt spurts across the screen.

“You… tried to kill me…” A low, deranged voice issues from behind a pile of scrap metal. The camera pans around erratically until it finds the source of the voice. A man half hidden in shadow lies on the dirt behind a heap of rusting auto parts, holding a pistol. He is middle aged, bald, and his face is lined with time and scars. His right eye is completely black and sunken into his head.

“C-calypso… Y-you’re alive?” Kane stammers, breathing heavily.

Ross’s eyes widen with shock and he gasps. He takes a step backward.

“In the flesh,” growls Calypso.)

What was going on here? That man… It couldn’t be…

(“Richard Sparks…? My God is that you?” breathes Ross.”

“NO!!” roars Calypso, pulling himself up to his feet, firing off another shot, hitting Kane in the knee, who gasps and falls to the ground.

“Richard Sparks is dead! He died in that car crash with his wife and daughter!” Calypso spits on the ground. “But Calypso is very much alive!” He runs over to the prone figure of Joseph Kane, clutching the bleeding wounds in his shoulder and knee. Calypso hits him in the head with the pistol.

“No matter,” SMACK (pistol hit) “What Joseph Kane,” SMACK “Tries to do!”

He hits Kane a final time, whose face is a bloody mess. “…Please…” Kane stammers. Calypso grimaces and aims the gun between Kane’s eyes. The camera goes black for an instant as a gunshot is heard.)

I couldn’t believe this could be happening. This was like a never ending nightmare. The man who would have granted me my wish was dead… And now Calypso would probably kill me too.

(Ross stumbles backwards, mouth agape, trying to escape to Hammerhead.

“WAIT!” yells Calypso, firing a shot that whizzes past Ross and hits the monster truck. Ross freezes in his tracks, trembling.

“I’d like to have a word with you, boy.” Calypso slowly walks over to Ross and puts a hand on his shoulder. Ross shies away from his touch. Calypso laughs darkly.

“Don’t be afraid. I just want to… thank you.”

“Thank me.? W-what are you talking about?”)

Had he gone completely mad? If he was going to kill me, I wish he’d get it over with.

(Calypso laughs again. “For killing my family, of course!” He claps Ross on the back. Ross looks at him incredulously.

“Don’t you see? If I had never been in that accident, I would’ve never conceived of the beauty that is Twisted Metal. This contest… it is my one true calling. The loss of my family means nothing to me now. I have Twisted Metal, and that is more important to me. No one can take that away from me, not even Joseph Kane, the man I trained as an apprentice for years, only to have him betray. And not even you!” Calypso’s face turns hard and angry for a second, but then it passes.

“But… what about my wish?” Ross whispers.

“Don’t you understand? Things are better this way! There is no need to go back, change the past. This is how fate meant me to be, and I accept it.” Calypso raises his hands into the air and laughs again.

“Go now. I hold no grudge against you. There is nothing that needs to be fixed. You have fulfilled your goal.”

“But-”

“GO!!” screams Calypso, firing another shot close to Ross. He hurriedly runs back to the truck and climbs in, starts the engine, and peels out of the junkyard, as Calypso laughs maniacally in the clearing.)

This can’t be right…

(Camera shows side profile of Ross’s face in the driver’s seat.)

This is not how things were supposed to end. I don’t want to be a murderer.

(Hammerhead zooms past a stationary camera, kicking up dust.)

Calypso says things are better this way, that I don’t need to go back. But I don’t feel the same way. But what can I do?

(Camera is under Hammerhead’s wheels as it rolls past a tumbleweed.)

I don’t have anywhere left to go, nobody left to run to. I guess I’ll just keep driving until I can come to terms with all this…

(The monster truck speeds away into the distance as a clock strikes midnight and “Black” by Pearl Jam starts to play. The end credits roll.)


***

Man, Hammerhead's story really doesn't make any sense with the original storyline. I should've planned it out better, made him in his thirties or something. But I like his personality as a teenager. Oh well.

---

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Pandemic sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning. Dr. Flesh speaks.

I had won the contest.

(Camera shows right profile of the doctor sitting in the driver’s seat.)

It seems I was to go to the junkyard to collect my prize.

(A raven perches on the doorframe of the ambulance, clutching a yellowed piece of parchment in its talons. The doctor, breathing raggedly, grabs the parchment and unrolls it with his gloved hands. It says ZORKO BROS SALVAGE YARD.)

My prize awaited me there.

(Camera zooms into the raven’s eye until the view is completely obscured by its yellow iris. It fades back out again to Pandemic speeding along a dusty desert road, siren blaring out of tune, as the raven caws and flies away.)

The time was finally upon me. It was hard to believe that in a few short moments I would be cured. I had to be. It was my right as the victor.

(Pandemic crashes through the junkyard gates and skids to halt. The doctor slams the door and emerges from the vehicle, hunched over, shaking with anticipation. He is even scrawnier than before. A clean cut man in a dark Armani suit stands before.

“Greetings, Dr. Flesh. My name is Joseph Kane. I must congratulate you. You are this year’s winner of my contest.”

“Calypso’s not running the show anymore?”

“I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, he has suffered the most untimely of accidents and could not join us.” The darkest of smiles flashes across Kane’s face, but only for a moment.

“Whatever. Spare me the rhetoric. I’ve come to claim my prize.”

“Yes, as the victor, you are entitled to one wish. What is it your heart desires most, driver?”

“I want to be rid of this horrible disease. I want my organs to work again.”

“I see. If you would, please come over here, doctor.”)

This was it. Would this Kane have the means to rid me of this sickness? Or would my hopes come to nothing?

(The Doctor shuffles hesitantly over to Kane. Kane removes a slip of paper from his pocket.

“I hold in my hands a picture of the man whose organs you need to be healed. I promise you that his organs will not fail you, your body will not reject them.”

Dr. Flesh takes the slip from Kane. He unfolds it, revealing an old prison mug shot from the Asylum. The photo depicts a man wearing a clown mask with a flaming head, grinning back at the camera in an orange jumpsuit. The photograph is captioned “Needles Kane.”

“It can’t be…” whispers the doctor.

“I believe you are already familiar with this man, Dr. Flesh.”

“Yes…” Flesh breathes. “The clown… he was in this contest. I remember him! He drove some devilish ice cream truck… But I destroyed the truck. I killed this… Needles character. I am the sole survivor.”

“I must inform you that you are not indeed the only survivor of this year’s competition. Needles Kane lives still. If you can find him, if you can kill him, you will be cured. His organs are the ones you need.”

The doctor’s head rises so his gaze is even with Kane’s. He begins to laugh quietly, menacingly, to himself.

“Thank you, Joseph Kane. This is the information I needed. I will go back to the place where I defeated the clown and take his organs. But in the meantime…”

The doctor laughs maniacally and takes a step closer to Kane. In the midst of his laughter, he gasps, clenching his stomach, and doubles over.
“I have only… minutes left with this current set of organs,” Dr. Flesh rasps. “Soon my body will reject them outright and I will die. But, do not worry about me, Mr. Kane…”

The doctor takes another step closer to Kane.

“I know what you’re thinking doctor, and trust me, it is not a path you want to go down. Stop before you are ruined,” says Kane.

The doctor laughs again. “You don’t scare me, Kane! You cannot stop me! I have nothing to lose…”

With that declaration, the doctor whips out a bloody scalpel from the confines of his scrubs and stabs it deep into Kane’s chest in one fluid, rapid motion. Kane gasps and falls to one knee as blood starts soaking through his suit.

“Joseph Kane, Needles Kane… You two must be brothers…” says Dr. Flesh. Beneath his surgical mask a wild, insane grin is breaking out. He drags the scalpel through Kane’s flesh, who shudders and falls to the ground.

“Brothers have very similar DNA… I’m sure your organs will do just fine until I can get to the clown…” Flesh laughs again out loud and stabs Kane again. He then tears his suit open and shoves his gloved hand deep into Kane’s innards. Kane moans and shudders. The doctor wrenches Kane’s stomach out of his body, and Kane screams with pain. The doctor then makes an incision on his own torso, and tears his own stomach out, then replaces it with Kane’s.  

Kane writhes and yells in agony as his organs are harvested by Dr. Flesh. The doctor eventually needs to get only his heart. The camera closes in the doctor’s fist clenched around Kane’s heart, still beating feebly.

“Wait…. Doctor…” Kane moans, barely audible. “You should know…”

“Don’t try to stop me now, Kane!”

“Needles and I… are only step-brothers…”

“WHAT??!” The doctor screams in disbelief, then yanks Kane’s heart out, spurting blood all over the place. Kane’s head lolls back, and he lays limp, moving no more. The doctor yells at the sky, then makes a grotesque gurgle of pain as he wrenches his own heart out and replaces it with Kane’s. He stumbles, gasping, blood flowing from his open chest, back to the ambulance. He slams the door, ignites the engine, and peels out of the junkyard.)

That Kane had tricked me.

(Camera is inside Pandemic, showing profile of the doctor’s face.)

He wasn’t related to the clown by blood. His organs were no good to me.

(He moans in pain and clutches his torso.)

I could already tell they wouldn’t last me long. I needed to find that clown, and fast.

(Pandemic speeds off into the distance.

Camera focuses back in as Pandemic rolls to a halt in the middle of a destroyed city. It is night, and sirens wail in the distance. Flesh staggers out of the ambulance.)

The clown… Where is the clown…

(The doctor looks at the empty space in the road before him. The camera flashes to a picture of a destroyed Sweettooth resting in the same spot, then back to the present.)

I defeated the clown right here… in this spot…

(The doctor stoops down and picks up a panel of metal off the ground.)

It seems the clown had indeed survived and escaped.

(The panel is white but stained with dirt and blood. It has faded pink polka dots on it. The doctor peers closely at it, and the camera zooms in to follow his gaze.)

No…

(A message is carved into the metal. In messy, scrawled letters, the words “YOU’RE IT” can be deciphered.)

NO! The clown was gone!

(The doctor slams the panel on the ground and climbs back into the ambulance. He speeds away from the scene.)

My only hope of being cured… eluding me still. But the clown couldn’t hide forever. I’d find him. But my time is so short, so precious. I don’t have long…

(The doctor breathes raggedly as the camera pans out from inside the vehicle to a bird’s eyes view of Pandemic speeding towards the horizon. The sound of a beating heart fills the air, gradually replaced by a clock tolling midnight. The song “Black” by Pearl Jam plays and the end credits roll.)

***

I realized Kane dies in a lot of my endings  :P ah well.

And If you want to twist Tomakawk you can, because I don't think my ending for him was the best either, I couldn't come up with anything better.

Anyways, I hope les gusta

---

So I guess the doctor does die. Kind of saw that coming in a way.

I liked the twist of Hammerhead's ending too.

---

I like Pandemic most, his ending had a good twist. Though I would suggest making the Kanes half brothers, instead of step. That way, the last name still fits, as well as they still have differing DNA.

Hammerhead... you said the timeline didn't make sense, and I couldn't put my finger on that until I read it. I had an idea for what your twist would be, but I forgot it. His was alright, though. I imagined you would have him turn around and run Kane's ass over. Maybe implement a crazed complex - like, Ross had nothing more to do to reverse that night, so the only thing that makes sense anymore is finishing the job.


BizarroKing wrote on 05/15/10 at 05:02:14:

So I guess the doctor does die. Kind of saw that coming in a way. I liked the twist of Hammerhead's ending too.

No he doesn't. Max has stated that all the contestants survive to compete again.

---

good God, that ending for Pandemic was disgusting and awesome.. loved it. absolutely loved it.. Dr. Flesh is perfect for the Twisted Metal universe, especially the Black world. hell, I might do a model of Pandemic too.. with blood splattered all over the interior from the Doc bleeding out between operations

---

I loved Hammerhead ending. At first I thought that he was going to be killed by Calypso, but when he thanked him I was like O_O

---

;D Thanks guys. And yea Dr. Flesh doesn't die. I was thinking about the half brothers things and how the last name didn't really work with step brothers, but i thought half brothers DNA might be more similar, whatever :P And I hadn't thought of that for Hammerhead, killing Calypso too thats also a good idea, but the Ross's personality would have been different. Thanks for the comments.

After I'm done with all my current characters, would you rather see me do more of my own characters or some new storylines for the original black characters?

---

maxamillionaire wrote on 05/15/10 at 14:08:28:

;D Thanks guys. And yea Dr. Flesh doesn't die. I was thinking about the half brothers things and how the last name didn't really work with step brothers, but i thought half brothers DNA might be more similar, whatever :P And I hadn't thought of that for Hammerhead, killing Calypso too thats also a good idea, but the Ross's personality would have been different. Thanks for the comments. After I'm done with all my current characters, would you rather see me do more of my own characters or some new storylines for the original black characters?

Hmm, just out of curiosity, what other characters do you have planned?

---

you mean  what characters from the original black? Manslaughter and Mr. Grimm for sure, maybe Warthog, Sweettooth, roadkill. I'll probably mix them in with some original characters, I just decided

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maxamillionaire wrote on 05/15/10 at 14:35:28:

you mean  what characters from the original black? Manslaughter and Mr. Grimm for sure, maybe Warthog, Sweettooth, roadkill. I'll probably mix them in with some original characters, I just decided

I'd definitely like to hear Mr Grimm's story. Is it going to be the war veteran or the actual Grin Reaper?

---

Grin Reaper? does that mean he goes around smiling at ppl?

I love it when ppl typo is name.. it always makes for a good laugh

---

Haha grin reaper... ahh

The war vet. I'll be following the storyline of Black

Btw whens the next dizasterchild fic debuting?

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Do your own originals. Your story writing is good enough to make these brand new people come to life. Introduce more but, if you choose to do regular charactors, I don't think people will mind.

Good stuff man. Keep it up.

---

maxamillionaire wrote on 05/15/10 at 18:31:53:

Haha grin reaper... ahh The war vet. I'll be following the storyline of Black Btw whens the next dizasterchild fic debuting?

I've gotten a really good start on the next one, which is a TM Chronicles for Charlie Kane.. havent came up with a concrete title, but it was coming along nicely til about a week ago. this week has went to hell for me when it was supposed to be a good one. so far this week, I have:

- got into a fight with my mom's bf, who decided to catch me off guard and shove me, resulting in me slipping on the tile floor and hitting my spine on the arm of a bench

- while housesitting for a friend, I forgot that they store bread in the oven, and while half out of it on painkillers and sleep dep, pre-heated the oven with the bread still in it, catching the entire stove on fire and nearly burning the house down. as it stands, I have to repaint the kitchen and may have to buy them a new stove

- spent all week cleaning up the soot and ash from the fire, cause since the a/c was on and there is a return vent above the stove, it sucked up the smoke and spewed that shit all over the house (its a 2-story)... I shoulda been on the 360 all week with the 52" tv, but nope...

- my kid went to the ER yesterday.. had me worried sick til his mother finally called me to say it was a pulled ab muscle

- yesterday, found out my OTHER favorite band is "parting ways for the time being".. so both of my favorites are no longer together

FML

---

That sucks dude, I'm sorry to hear that.

I feel like I should do some of the original Black characters to balance it out, and thumperman wanted me too :P I have some pretty decent ideas for a few of them.

Anyways, here's the last installment for this set of characters!

***

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Crimson Fury sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning. Agent Shepherd narrates:

I had won the contest.

(Camera shows Agent Shepherd glowering at the steering wheel.)

It was not surprising, really. I was the most skilled driver the contest had ever seen.

(A raven lands on Crimson Fury. Agent Shepherd takes the paper from its talons and reads the message.)

Apparently, I had to go to the junkyard to claim my prize.

(Crimson Fury roars down the deserted desert road.)

I was finally going to get my revenge on those gorillamen.

(The Lambo screams through the junkyard gates and stops on a dime in a clearing amidst towers of auto corpses.)

At long last, I could have my life back.
(Agent Shepherd emerges from the sports car, his trademark scowl set in stone on his face. A clean cut man in a dark Armani suit, almost identical to his own, stands before him.

“Nice suit,” says Agent Shepherd. The man before him laughs softly. “Indeed. Congratulations, driver. You are this year’s victor.”

“Of course I am. I’m the best this dreadful contest has ever seen.”

“Yes…” murmurs the man. “I am Joseph Kane, the head of Twisted Metal.”

“Good for you,” says Shepherd bluntly, his face emotionless. A light wind ruffles his long hair. “I’ve come for my prize.”

“Straight to the point I see. Yes, as the victor, you are entitled to one wish. What is it your heart desires most, driver?”

“Those gorillamen. They framed me, they made it look like I shot the president. I’m innocent. I want my revenge.”

“Do you mean, these ‘gorillamen’?”

Kane leads the agent behind a tower of car parts. Sitting in two makeshift chairs of car parts are the gorillamen, bound and gagged, trying to break loose. A smile plays across Agent Shepherd’s face for the first time.

“Yes, these gorillamen indeed. I can tell these are the same men. You are a talented individual, Mr. Kane.”

“I try,” says Kane softly. Shepherd looks down and sees a sniper rifle at his feet, the same one that the gorillas used to kill the president. He picks it up and runs his hands over it.

“This is going to feel so good…”

Agent Shepherd aligns the rifle right up next to the first gorilla’s head, at an angle so that the bullet will hit them both. The gorillamen’s struggles grow more frantic. The camera zooms in on his finger on the trigger, pulling it harder, harder…

*BAM* The camera goes black as the sound of a muffled gunshot fills the air. It focuses back in to see the gorillamen still in their chair, unmoving, their heads dripping blood. Kane is nowhere to be seen. Agent Shepherd walks slowly back into his Lamborghini, carrying the rifle, a dark smile remaining on his face.)

Mission complete. The gorillamen have met the same fate as the president, a fate they wholly deserve.

(Agent Shepherd stoops into the cockpit and starts the engine, which roars the life then purrs softly. Crimson Fury burns rubber then zooms through the junkyard gates.)

I decided something else too. I’m through protecting people.

(Crimson Fury screams past a stationary camera.)

I think I’ll go into a field of work where I can make better use of my talents.

(Camera is inside the Lambo, focusing on the sniper rifle in the passenger seat.)

Yes, from now on, I’ll be a bounty hunter. I’ll be infamous; criminals will cower at the sound of my name.

(A scorpion scuttles by as Crimson Fury zooms past it, kicking up a cloud of dust.)

The people will love me. I’ll take out all the freaks and criminals that roam these streets, then collect my due. I’ll have so much more glory than just a secret service agent.

(Crimson Fury gradually speeds away into the distance.)

And for my first target, I think I’ll go for that freak clown they call Sweettooth.

(A clock strikes midnight as the Lambo becomes invisible over the horizon. The end credits roll and Black by Pearl Jam plays.)

***

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Bohemian sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning. Dandelion narrates:

At last, the contest had come to an end. I had won.

(Camera shows right profile of Dandelion’s face sitting in the cab.)

I had battled my way through the killers that plague the city, and I had defeated them. I was victorious. But what was I supposed to do now?

(A raven alights on Bohemian’s roof. Dandelion opens the window and it comes down to perch on her arm. She takes the parchment from its talon and reads the message.)

I suppose I’m going back to that scrapyard. Justice is finally going to be served.

(Camera zooms in to the raven’s eye until its yellow iris completely blocks the camera. The view then zooms back out to Bohemian rolling down a dusty desert road.)

I was about to fulfill my goal and end this madness called Twisted Metal. Could it really be happening?

(Bohemian busts through the junkyard gates and screeches to a stop in a clearing amidst towering heaps of car corpses. Dandelion exits the VW and steps onto the ground, slamming the door. A clean cut man in a dark Armani suit stands before.

“Welcome, Dandelion. Congratulations. You are this year’s victor.

“Yes. I endured my way through your hellish contest and killed all those other murderous contestants.”
“You say it like you’re not a murderer yourself. You are just as guilty as they are. You don’t know all the other contestant’s motives. They could have been noble, of pure heart, like you think yourself to be…”

“Don’t try to play with my mind, Mr…”

“Kane. Joseph Kane.”

“Where’s Calypso? I’ve wanted to meet him for a long time…”

“I’m afraid Mr. Calypso no longer runs this tournament. I’ve disposed of him myself.”

“Hmm. I suppose I should thank you then. But in my mind, you’re no different than him. My mission isn’t over until I rid the world of all the freaks like you.” Dandelion fingers the embroidered dagger hidden behind her back, staring fiercely at Kane.

“I see we’re a little testy. Let’s not forget why we are here. As the victor, you are entitled to one wish. What is it your heart desires most, driver?”

“I want this contest to be over, and I want you dead! I want to put an end to this chaos and destruction that has ruined so many lives.”

Kane laughs. “Follow me.”

Dandelion hesitantly steps closer to him, then follows him around a tower of car parts. Suddenly, Kane expertly and deftly spins around and knocks Dandelion’s wrist so she lets go of the concealed dagger. He grabs the dagger and holds it up in front of her.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now.” Kane smiles devilishly.

“Hey! Give that back you creep!” Dandelion tries to attack Kane but he brandishes the knife at her throat, stopping her in her tracks.

“Be patient. I’m not going to hurt you. You just have to play by the rules.”

Dandelion glowers at him. They continue walking until they reach a chair with a man bound and gagged in it. His head is shaved and he wears large dark sunglasses. Where his hands should be only strange bloody blades exist. Dandelion gasps.

“I believe you two have met before…” Kane says quietly, then starts to laugh. Cage struggles in vain against his bonds.

“That man… I thought I killed him in the tournament. I thought I had already exacted my revenge for what he did to me.” Dandelion runs a finger delicately across her ruined face. She stares in hatred at the helpless Cage.

Kane walks over to Dandelion and hands her a revolver. “This gun has only one bullet in it. It’s your choice, Dandelion. Use it wisely.”

Dandelion stares hard at the gun in her hand, slowly raising it up, her hand trembling, pointing it at…

*BAM* The camera goes black as the sound of a gunshot fills the air. The view comes back in and focuses on an unmoving Cage, slumped in his chair, blood leaking from a wound in his head. Kane is nowhere to be seen. Dandelion stands, breathing heavily, looking at the ground.)

As soon as I fired the gun, I knew something had changed inside me.

(Dandelion runs back to Bohemian and ignites the engine. The VW bus sputters to life.)

I had had to make a choice, between the noble thing to do and the selfish thing to do.

(Bohemian bursts through the junkyard gates and onto the desert highway.)

I chose revenge.

(Bohemian zooms past a stationary camera.)

I thought I would feel ashamed of myself, I thought I’d feel like a monster. But you know what? I feel pretty damn good. It was completely justified. I was no monster, I was only a judge.

(Camera is inside the VW, showing the right side of Dandelion’s face. She smiles a little.)

Peace is overrated. I realize now that the only way to change things is to get your hands dirty. And that’s perfectly fine with me.

(Bohemian speeds off into the distance. A clock strikes midnight, and Black by Pearl Jam begins to play as the end credits roll.)

***

And thumperman, if your reading this, I couldn't remember if any of your characters became a bounty hunter at the end, so sorry if they did.

---

Glad Crimson Fury came out dominant and didn't get screwed over. Same goes for Bohemian, although her ending was somewhat unexpected, but enjoyable. Can't wait to see who you have in mind next.

---

Yea, I figured Id go for a more traditional Black style for them and let them have their little revenge. And besides i couldnt think of a good twist for either of them  :P

---

Agent Stone: Dog the Bounty Hunter... before the mullet :)

good work. I was expecting Dandelion to get fucked over

---

Get your hands dirty baby. Dandilion is now a flower not to be messed with.

---

I miss my daddy…

(The voice of a little girl echoes as the camera zooms through the asylum gates, down the hallway into the solitary cell.)

It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.

(In the cell sits a little girl of about 10 years old. She has long, fine dark hair and pale skin, with very light, milky eyes. She wears an old patched dress and black flats.)

It’s hard to keep track of time in here. I can’t even tell if it’s day or night.

(The little girl stands blankly out the small window of her cell, her eyes seeing nothing.)

I wish I could be with my daddy again. He was so nice to me, he helped me do everything.

(The camera flashes back to a blurry image of a man with the girl on his shoulders, dancing with her through falling snow. They are both laughing.)

Now, this is all I have left of my daddy.

(Camera focuses in on a snow globe with a little house inside in the girl’s hand. She shakes it gently and the flakes flurry about.)

He gave me this right before he became different. This is what I remember him by, before he changed.

(Camera flashes back to a blurry image of the same man slowly putting a strange, black mask over his head.)

He had said he had a new job, working for a new man. He didn’t have to drive his old truck anymore. He got a new one, but it was scary. I didn’t like it.

(A tear runs down the girl’s cheek.)

I loved helping him do his old work in the snow. I felt so close to him…

(Camera flashes back to the man and girl making snow angels in the white powder.)

When he went away, I guess I didn’t know what to do. He was my eyes, because I was blind. Nobody else ever understood me. They wanted to put me in an orphanage, but I wouldn’t let them. I just wanted my daddy back.

(The girl is being carried away by a man with his back to the camera. The girl’s arms are outstretched in the camera’s direction, and she’s crying.)

I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. But they put me in here anyway.

(In the present, the girl looks around her bleak cell.)

One day, I had a visitor.

(Joseph Kane shows up in the cell, wearing his dark Armani suit.)

He told me that if I won his contest, he could help me find my daddy. He even said I could use my daddy’s old truck.

(Kane holds the girl’s hand and walks her out of the cell.)

I was going to be able to have my daddy again…

(An old, worn slow plow rumbles away from the asylum.)

Blackfield  Asylum Profile:

Driver Name: Gabrielle
Age: 11
Vehicle: Snow Angel
Vehicle Description: A dump truck with a snow plow attached the front. It’s painted a navy blue color. The bed is completely filled with snow that is overflowing out of the sides. A thin layer of snow coats the whole vehicle, including the windshield. Icicles hang from every surface of the truck. The windshield, headlights, and mirrors are cracked, and the grill and front fenders are askew. The body of an old snowmobile (without the tracks) is chained to the back bumper.

Stats:
Armor: 8/10
Speed: 3/10
Control: 3/10
Special: 8/10 – Frostbite – Large icicle spikes emerge from the plow, and the truck activates turbo and rams the opponent, impaling with the icicles and also freezing them (same duration as a regular freeze).

***

I’m so tired…

(Camera does the lopsided zoom through the asylum gates, down the hallway and into the solitary cell. An exhausted, strained voice narrates.)

I just wish I could fall asleep.

(Camera enters the cell and we see a skinny man wearing a faded, ripped dress shirt and khaki slacks in the same condition slumped against the cell wall. His hair has grown shaggy and is graying, falling about his shoulders.)

How long has it been now, almost a year? That sounds about right…

(The camera focuses more closely on his face. It is grotesque, his skin gaunt and taut, almost translucent, etched with lines. Huge dark circles emanate from his baggy eyes with crimson, bloodshot pupils. A thin film of drool is emitted from his agape mouth.)

A whole year without sleeping… My God. Oh, and that’s 529,643. Sheep number 529,643.

(The man stares blankly out the window, then cackles feebly to himself.)

And  all because of that cursed night. That killer… my family… we were so helpless.

(Camera flashes back to an image of the same man, looking healthy and younger, cowering in fear with his wife and two children, shielding them with his arms. An ominous shadow of a man falls over them.)

I can barely even feel the pain anymore. All I am now is exhausted.

(In the past, the shadow raises the silhouette of long, blunt object in his hands. The family shuts their eyes and trembles.)

Ever since then, I’ve never been able to fall asleep. I’m too tortured by nightmares to get any rest.

(Camera shows a flashback of the same man, half-asleep, thrashing about in the cell wearing a straightjacket.)

Their medicine has no effect on me. I must be some kind of freak of nature.

(Flashback of a doctor injecting a syringe into the man’s arm, but nothing happens. He just sits there with the same exhausted, zoned expression.)

One day, something happened to break up the monotony. I had a visitor.

(Joseph Kane, wearing his dark suit, enters the cell.)

At first, I thought it was just another one of those dreams I had while I was awake. They were happening every day. But the man was real. He said his name was Joseph Kane.

(Kane extends his hand to the pitiful man slouched on the ground. The man does not respond.)

He said he ran some kind of automobile contest, and if I won, he could help me fall back asleep.

(Kane walks out of the cell, leading the man listlessly along.)

529,647.

(The man stumbles into the impound lot of the asylum).

It seemed like a long shot, but I was willing to give it a try. I’d do anything just to get some sleep

(A ’95 Chevy Cavalier zooms away from the asylum.)

Blackfield Asylum Profile:

Name: Allen Greer
Age: 45
Vehicle: Firefly
Vehicle Description: 1995 Chevy Cavalier coupe, painted a dark green. The bumpers and fenders are rusted and falling off, some are haphazardly chained to the body. There is no windshield. A spotlight is randomly chained to the roof that flickers on and off. The trunk lid has been removed. A machine gun is mounted on the center of the hood.

Stats:
Armor: 4/10
Speed: 7/10
Control: 7/10
Special: 6/10 – Bioluminescence – A glowing, golden orb of light materializes in the trunk and emits lighting-like beams of energy at the nearest opponent, doing damage and temporarily disabling their steering.

***

My love for thee grows stronger by the day, Veronica…

(Camera sweeps through the asylum gates, into the hallway to the solitary cell. The sincere voice of a man echoes down the hall.)

And one day, I know it will grow so strong that not even the grave will be able to withstand it.

(The Camera enters the cell, revealing a handsome man in a bloody tuxedo, sitting cradling a figure next to him. Her head is slumped, so her face is unseen. She wears a bloody wedding dress and her hair is long and unkempt. She looks oddly pale and skinny.)

I promise you, darling, that I will find a way to reverse that dreadful accident.

(The man tilts the bride’s head up, revealing the face of a corpse. The woman is dead, her body decaying much like Charlie Kane’s.)

We were so close to an eternity together, but the unthinkable happened.

(Camera flashes back to a view from inside a car, the man driving, the woman in the passenger seat. Time slows down as the windshield starts to crack and explode. They both start to scream.)

I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you my love, so sorry…

(Still in the past, the camera shows the man weeping and holding his now-dead bride to his chest, surrounded by flames and devastation.)

There are so many evil people in the world, I just couldn’t keep them away. I failed.

(In the present, the groom runs his hand through the bride’s disgusting, rotting hair.)

I will never give up on you though.

(The man kisses the corpse’s forehead.)

I’ll never let them take you away from me, no matter how hard they try. I know that soon we will somehow be together again.

(Someone knocks on the cell door.)

There’s a visitor, my dear. Don’t worry, I’ll see him in.

(A clean cut man in a dark Armani suit enters the cell.)

His name is Joseph Kane, and he is offering us a place in some automobile competition of his. And guess what?

(The groom stares up in wonder at Kane.)

If we win, he can grant us one wish! I could bring you back to life! This is just the chance we need.

(Kane leads the groom out of the cell, who is carrying the corpse in his arms.)

Never fear, my dearest Veronica. The time is short until again we shall embrace…

(A ’95 white Lincoln Town Car speeds away from the asylum. The man is in the driver’s seat with the corpse of his bride propped up in the passenger’s seat.)

Blackfield Asylum Profile:

Name: Oliver and Veronica Avery.
Age: 29 and 28
Vehicle: Verona
Vehicle Description: 1995 white Lincoln Town Car. The car used to be pristine, but has declined due to lack of care. Iron bars are chained on the front and rear bumpers and side skirts for armor. The windows are tinted black but are shattered in some places. The passenger side of the windshield is completely demolished and caved in. Soda cans are attached to the rear bumper with strings and drag along behind the car as it drivers. Machine gun is mounted on the right side.

Stats:
Armor: 6/10
Speed: 5/10
Handling: 6/10
Special: 5/10 – Til Death Do Us Part – A circular pulse wave is emitted from the front of the car and travels in a straight line until detonated.

***

The body of Snow Angel looks like this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snowplow

And sorry if Verona seems redundant off Bloody Mary, but I think they're different enough

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Snow Angel-Sounds like a good one, I wonder who her father is, though I think I have a guess.
Firefly-Interesting
Verona-Wow.

Please continue with these.

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BizarroKing wrote on 05/18/10 at 00:30:02:

Please continue with these.

I'm pretty sure he intends to.

I think I know where Verona is going. But I was just thinking of an alternate special for him... Something like what you have, only it instantly kills an opponent at the cost of half Verona's life.

Just throwing that out there.

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nah, I think Verona's drivers have enough story to be original

awesome inclusion of a Cavalier ;)  but they've never had metal bumpers to rust off.. having the normal plastic bumpers kinda hanging or dragging would work the same. I love the special too.. fits the name of the car perfectly.. which is funny, since the Cavalier is based on GM's j-body platform, and back in the 80s, Pontiac had a j-body called the Firefly :)

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BK: Yea i left a few clues as to Gabrielle's father's identity but I didn't want it to be too obvious.

Oddz: Hopefully the ending I have in mind will not be what you expect, I think i have a pretty good idea. And yea that works too for Verona's special I couldn't really think of anything so I just went with something generic.

DC: Oh I didn't know that it's just a coincidence then. And I figured you'd like that. I'd had the idea for a cavalier floating in my head for a while. I even thought about having the driver carry around a jar of fireflies whereever he went but I figured that would be too redundant.

If anyone doesn't know, Verona is the name of the town where Romeo and Juliet lived, so that's where I got that from. And I might even try my hand at drawing some of my characters so possibly look for those.

And yea I'll continue with these. I have to finish what I started, don't I? I'm not sure if any of the characters from this batch will measure up to a Riptide or Pandemic standard though. A little while back I thought about stopping after I had finished the endings for the first batch but new ideas kept comin so I went with them. I considered making a new thread for the next set so this one doesn't get to like 12 pages but I decided not to  :P

And thumperman if your still reading these, the offer still stands to do one of my characters in your style if you wanted

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maxamillionaire wrote on 05/18/10 at 20:00:50:

BK: Yea i left a few clues as to Gabrielle's father's identity but I didn't want it to be too obvious. Oddz: Hopefully the ending I have in mind will not be what you expect, I think i have a pretty good idea. And yea that works too for Verona's special I couldn't really think of anything so I just went with something generic. DC: Oh I didn't know that it's just a coincidence then. And I figured you'd like that. I'd had the idea for a cavalier floating in my head for a while. I even thought about having the driver carry around a jar of fireflies whereever he went but I figured that would be too redundant. If anyone doesn't know, Verona is the name of the town where Romeo and Juliet lived, so that's where I got that from. And I might even try my hand at drawing some of my characters so possibly look for those. And yea I'll continue with these. I have to finish what I started, don't I? I'm not sure if any of the characters from this batch will measure up to a Riptide or Pandemic standard though. A little while back I thought about stopping after I had finished the endings for the first batch but new ideas kept comin so I went with them. I considered making a new thread for the next set so this one doesn't get to like 12 pages but I decided not to  :P And thumperman if your still reading these, the offer still stands to do one of my characters in your style if you wanted

Me still reading, and you did so good, I'm having a hard time deciding who to do.

And yes, your Agent Shepard remind me of my charcter, Officer Brutality.  But it's cool.

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your original characters are really cool. well thought out, good backstories, cars that fit their personalities... like I said, you even got me wanting to hunt down a '41 Woody model and build it to TM-spec. and I have been thinking about doing Glory Days as well, given that I can find a to-scale dummy and figurine

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How would I be able to get my drawings posted here? I've scanned the image but it keeps giving me error when I try to attach it

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upload them to an image hosting site.. thats what I did with the pics of my toy Cavalier.. altho I dont like Imageshack that much

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Snow Angel, Firefly, Verona. Pretty damn original if I say so myself. I'm interested. I like the 3 Sp's you've planned for them. They are also something original I've never seen or heard.

An Idea I had for Verona for you if you want, is a golden pulse ring that does the same as the one you came up with. It sounds like the same mechanics as Shadow but, it's cool because it's original.

If you wanna use that, your more than welcome.

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http://s892.photobucket.com/albums/ac130/maxamillionaire/?action=view&current=IMG_0001-1.jpg&t=1274541654038

So here they are. I realize the quality is kinda messed up, I don't know how to edit very well yet and it was in pencil so it came through very lightly. It took me forever to get the shape of a cavalier right, I don't know why.

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dont feel too bad about it bro, I still cant draw a Cavalier properly and this is ME we're talking about here.. from what I can tell, it was a 2000-2002 Cavalier with the shape of the grille and positioning of the corner lights to the hood and fenders..

and with that post, I am checking into rehab... its sad that I know that much about something that plain. or I'll just change my name to Rainman

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maxamillionaire wrote on 05/22/10 at 16:22:24:

http://s892.photobucket.com/albums/ac130/maxamillionaire/?action=view&current=IMG_0001-1.jpg&t=1274541654038 So here they are. I realize the quality is kinda messed up, I don't know how to edit very well yet and it was in pencil so it came through very lightly. It took me forever to get the shape of a cavalier right, I don't know why.

Don't fret.  This is your first time making pics.

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Thanks for the kind words. Here is the next installment:

***

Father, forgive me.

(The voice of a weary old woman echoes as the camera pans through the asylum gates, into the hallway and to the solitary cell.)

For I have sinned.

(Camera enters the cell and we see an old woman kneeling dejectedly on the cold cell floor. She wears a nun’s black and white habit and a veil that covers her wrinkled face. Long, thin silver hair falls limply about her shoulders. Her outfit is stained with blood.)

But I know not even you can save me now.

(Flashback to the nun coming at the camera, a crazed look in her eyes, a bloody crucifix dagger in her hand. Red flashes across the camera, then darkness.)

I’ve been plagued by the pact I’ve made for so long now. How could I have been so foolish?

(Flashback to a hand grasping a quill with blood on the tip.)

In my weakness, I gave in, and now I must pay for it for eternity. But when I become consumed by my task, I can’t control myself. It feels good, pleasuring. That is what scares me the most, even after all these years.

(Same flashback to the nun with the cross dagger.)

But for every hour I waste in here, the stronger the urges become… These cravings are consuming me. I no longer feel ashamed and horrified…

(The nun looks down at the stains on her habit.)

I feel only this drive to do the bidding of my master.

(For an instant a strange red glow fills the nun’s eyes and a malicious smile takes over her face.)

One day, I had a visitor. He seemed like a nice young man.

(Joseph Kane, wearing his suit, appears in the cell.)

Right then and there the urge became strong again, but I knew somehow that I must hold myself back. I needed to hear what he had to say.

(Close up of Kane’s smug, composed smile.)

He said he oversaw some sort of automobile contest to the death, and that he was offering me a place in it. I realized instantly what this could mean. A way to escape from this cell, a way to further the desires of my master… But I had no vehicle.

(Kane holds up a set of keys.)

He said that it was not a problem, that it had all already been arranged.

(Kane leads the nun out of the cell.)

My pulse grew faster as I tasted the free air. My master would be delighted with me if I did well…

(The nun walks into the asylum impound yard.)

It was time, once again, time to fulfill the terms of my contract. Blood will be spilt tonight.

(A large industrial cement mixer roars away from the asylum.)

***
Blackfield Asylum Profile:

Driver: Sister Slaughter
Age: 76
Vehicle: Tombstone
Vehicle Description: A huge black cement mixer reinforced with iron bars all over the body. The bars cover all the windows and numerous metal panels are welded to the sides for armor and for holding weapons. A spiked metal sheet is attached to front bumper for extra armor, and the grill is reinforced with crowbars. Traffic cones are bolted to the bed around the mixer part. A lamppost is haphazardly chained to one side just above the wheels, creating a ram. Machine guns are mounted on both sides by the doors. A large turret protrudes from the mixer.

Stats:
Armor: 9/10
Speed: 2/10
Handling: 2/10
Special: 8/10 – Cementery – A cement bomb is fired from the turret on the back, homing in on enemies, doing major damage, and temporarily slowing them down.

***

Alright, so I’ll admit I might’ve gotten myself a little in over my head.

(A black Nissan 300ZX speeds down a dusty desert highway. The midday sun blazes overhead.)

I just couldn’t help myself. I like to live on the edge.

(Camera zooms into the car and we see a young Caucasian man with spiked black hair, a black soul patch, sunglasses, and a muscle shirt. One of his ears is pierced and has a small silver stud in it. He wears a determined scowl.)

But I guess I got a little too close to the edge.

(Camera focuses on a bloody bandage on the man’s forearm, covering a gunshot wound.)

I got lucky and managed to escape with only a shot to my arm. But I know those casino big-shots are still right behind me, hunting me down for the money I owe them.

(Camera zooms far into the distance behind the Nissan, coming to a small convoy consisting of a Cadillac Escalade, BMW M5, and an Aston Martin V12 Vantage, all painted silver.)

Problem is, I don’t got the money. I was gamblin with dough I didn’t have.

(Flashback to a casino scene. The driver of the Nissan is sitting at a blackjack table.)

It’s not my fault I’m like this. Just the way I am. Gamblin gets my blood pumpin; I love that adrenaline rush. Ha, I’ve got a plenty big rush now. In a way I got what I wanted.

(Casino flashback. Close-up of the driver’s face, stoic behind his sunglasses, at the casino table.)

I just wish I could get these guys off my tail. I’m almost out of gas, too.

(Camera shows the dashboard of the Nissan. The fuel gauge arrow is dangerously close to the E.)

Looks like I’ve put some distance between us.

(The driver looks in his rearview mirror but can no longer see the convoy chasing him.)

Ah, just what I needed. I’ll pull in here and hopefully those goons will drive right by. And they might even have some gas.

(The Nissan comes to the Zorko Bros Junkyard and smashes through the gates, entering the premises.)

Maybe I was wrong. The place looks deserted.

(The 300ZX comes to a rest in a clearing amidst piles of old auto parts. The clearing is deserted, but then a clean-cut man in a dark Armani suit steps out from the shadows and advances to the Nissan.

“Hey buddy! You guys got gas?” yells the driver. Kane doesn’t answer until he comes right to the driver’s door. He stops and stares intently at the driver.

“Yes, we have fuel. But if I am correct, you need something much more than just gasoline.”

“You think you’re clever? You know about me or somethin?”

“No, I am just quite perceptive. What is it your really after?”

“Well, I got into some trouble at the casinos. I lost money I don’t have. Can you help me out?”

Kane stares the man in the eye and says quietly, “Money. A simple desire, an easy request. Yes, I am in a position to help you. But first, would you be so kind as to participate in my contest?”

The driver looks intently at Kane. “What kind of contest?”

A dark smile plays across Kane’s face. “I call it Twisted Metal. It is a competition of automobile combat to the death. If you can defeat the other participants, I will grant you anything your heart desires.”

“So you could get me money then? Lots of it?”

“Oh, if you win, you can have more money than you know what to do with.”

The driver hesitates, then shakes Kane’s hand. “Alright. I’ll play your little game. But don’t you dare go back on your promise, or you’ll be sorry.”

“I am a man of my word. Win my contest and I’ll grant your wish. And for your first battleground, you’ll need to go to Midtown. If you survive you’ll be instructed from there.”

“Midtown eh? I think I know where that is. Alright, see you around.”

And with that the driver of the Nissan peels out and speeds away from the junkyard, back out onto the desert road.)

I wasn’t quite sure if I could take that guy seriously, but I figured, what had I to lose? I was a dead man already anyways.

(The Nissan zooms past a sign that reads Midtown 10 miles.)

And with a little luck, I’ll sweep through this ‘contest’ and collect my prize. I’ll pay off my debts and maybe even have a little left over.

(Smoke rises from the ruined Midtown in the distance, as the Nissan zooms past a stationary camera towards the city.)

***
Twisted Metal Classified Files

Name: Jack “Blackjack” Benedict.
Age: 26
Vehicle: “21”
Vehicle Description: Black Nissan 300ZX with a number 21 decal on the hood and a line of bullet holes along the ride side. In preparation for the contest, cages have been placed over the windows and iron bars chained to the bumpers for reinforcement. The car has a body kit with sleek bumpers, side-skirts, and a spoiler, now outfitted with blades. Machine guns are chained to both sides at the bottom of the doors.

Stats:
Armor: 3/10
Speed: 8/10
Handling: 8/10
Special: 7/10 – Royal Flush – Blackjack leans out the window and throws a small metal disc painted like a playing in a straight line. Upon contact with an opponent, the disc explodes, lifting the opponent of the ground from the force.

***

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So many people… dead at my hands

(Camera zooms its way through a dark, foreboding forest.)

Isn’t it glorious?

(Camera comes to rest on an ice cream truck parked in a clearing. Needles Kane sits on the front bumper, his head on fire, staring at the ground. He and his truck both look aged and battle scarred, but are still in one piece.)

But the one person that matters the most, the one person whose death is the most important to me…

(Needles raises his head, revealing his freakish clown mask.)

He’s still alive.

(Flashback to an image of Charlie Kane’s son used in the first Twisted Metal Black (the one where he looks all horrified.))

For 16 years now, I’ve been doing my killing. The people are absolutely terrified of me.

(Flashback to a family cowering in fear in their home as Needles stands menacingly in their doorway.)

But somehow, little Joey Kane still eludes me.

(Flashback to Yellowjacket speeding away from a burning city.)

That first contest, 15 years ago, the kid won it. He defeated me, humiliated me. My own brother, just a boy, bringing down the fearsome Needles Kane. It was unbelievable.

(Flashback to a wrecked Sweettooth smoldering amongst the wreckage of skyscrapers.)

Of course, I won the next year. I asked Calypso to remove the curse that causes my head to burn.

(Calypso holds up the vial of Preacher’s blood.)

The cure was a hoax. If I kept killin, it would wear off. It was really no dilemma at all.

(Needles slices Calypso’s head off.)

I really don’t mind the flames anymore. I’ve grown accustomed to them.

(The camera focuses in on Needles’s burning, blistered scalp.)

I’ve entered more than a few of Calypso’s contests over the years since then, for various reasons. But it never occurred to me that my brother could still live. I thought Calypso had killed him on the eve of his victory.

(Flashback to Yellowjacket driving into Calypso’s lair.)

I had never heard anything to convince me otherwise. That is, until recently. Now I know my brother still walks the earth.

(Needles gets up off the bumper of his truck.)

This time, I’m fighting for a little bit more than what I usually ask for. I have a new goal, a stronger goal. It’s given me new strength, new ambition.

(Needles climbs into his truck.)

I’ll play this twisted little game one last time. When I win, I’ll finally have my revenge on my brother and bring an end to the rest of the Kane family.

(Sweettooth speeds away from the forest, towards the city.)

***

There you are. I figured I'd start mixing in some storylines for the original Black characters.

And while Tombstones isn't really relevant to the character's background, I think its really cool to have some crazy bloodthirsty old nun driving around in a cement mixer.  :P

And 21 might not be as dark as most of my other characters, I hope that's okay. I just thought it was a neat idea.

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It's cool.  We need to balance the dark with the light.

---

21 reminds me of my version of Spectre from TM: Civil War.. how he's fucked someone out of money and on the run. in mine, he's already dead but still.. that storyline never gets old :)  you got some good originals, dude. def liking this

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I know it's been awhile guys I'll get to it. My interest has just been on other stuff lately.

---

I redid Tomahawk's ending because I felt like the original one was weak and I could have done a lot better with it. This one is a bit different. And if any newer people are reading this, just read back through the older posts and read Tomahawk's storyline to get caught up.

***

The final secret switch is flipped, detonating a multitude of charges right underneath the pavement. Explosions beneath the three bosses blow their vehicles sky high, utterly and completely destroying them. The smoldering wreckage crashes back to earth. Tomahawk sits unmoving amongst the wreckage, badly damaged but still functioning Chief Red Falcon narrates:

Thankfully, mercifully, the contest was over.

(Camera is on the inside of the jeep in the passenger’s seat, showing the right profile of the Chief’s face.)

The spirits had guided me to victory. I was ready to see the man behind this and end this abomination against nature called Twisted Metal.

(A raven alights on the doorframe of Tomahawk and caws)

What is it, little one? I must go to the junkyard? Thank you. Now fly far away from here and be free. I wish I could do the same.

(Tomahawk skids away from the city, and the camera fades away and then back in from a bird’s eye view as Tomahawk rumbles down a narrow desert road.)

I could feel my heart beating like a stampede of buffalo. These wretched hours were finally coming to an end, and I was about to meet the man responsible for the death of my family. How would I react?

(The jeep comes to the scrapyard and bursts through the rickety metal gates, skidding to a halt in a clearing amidst towering heaps of lifeless autos. The Chief climbs out of the driver’s seat and slams the door shut, walking to face the man before him. He is clean-cut and is well dressed, adorning himself with a dark Armani suit.

“Ahh, Chief Red Falcon. You came back for another round, I see,” he speaks.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that I am so surprised to see you again so soon after last year’s competition. You took quite a beating. I presumed you for dead. But no, you have proven to be hardy and determined. I respect that.”

“What are you talking about? I have never competed in this contest before this year,” responds the Chief, looking confused and suspicious.

Kane laughs softly. “Why, of course you have. You have returned this year and have become victorious. I must congratulate you.”

“What is going on here? What….aughh…” The chief clutches his head and his eyes squint shut. Momentary flashes of bloody battle scenes flood his mind.

“You are starting to remember, I see. Yes… It is really no surprise that you won. I mean, a man violent enough to kill his own family… This is certainly your element.”

The Chief continues to struggle with the flashbacks. “What are you saying?! You liar! My family, my home, my people, they were killed by this competition one year ago! I joined to avenge their deaths!”

“You are right in saying one thing, Chief Falcon. Your family did die at the hands of one of last year’s competitors. Let me help you remember…”

Kane strides over to the battered Native American and places his hands on his head. The Chief begins to yell out savagely, then blacks out, crumpling to the ground.)

Memories came flooding back to me of the day they took everything from me. But this time, things were different. This was not how I remembered things.

(In the flashback, Chief Red Falcon is driving Tomahawk across a large open plain. A grim scowl is set into his face as he chases the vehicles in front of him, a junk car, dump truck, ice cream truck, and motorcycle.)

This had to be a trick. These were no memories of mine.

(The Chief hits a button on the dashboard and a fire missile is shot off from Tomahawk, screaming toward Roadkill and making contact, blowing off a fender.)

These were the ones who had destroyed my home, I recognized them easily.

(The convoy of combatants rolls towards a small group of crude dwellings in the distance, with smoke from campfires rising into the air.)

I must not give in to these hallucinations…

(The group of cars rumbles into the camp, Tomahawk right on their tail. People scream and run around in a panic, trying to find shelter from the onslaught. The vehicles fire off innumerable projectiles at each other, laying waste to the defenseless camp.)

This was my village! I was being forced to relive the nightmare over again! But this is not how it had happened. I had been with my people!

(Manslaughter rolls straight over a hut, crushing it beneath its massive tires. Tomahawk is following close behind it, its machine guns blazing. Manslaughter dumps its bed of hot coals behind it at Tomahawk, but the Chief drives straight through. This sets fire to the whole reservation.

Women scream and children cry, desperately trying to escape the peril. Some are blown to bits by the fight, some are run over. The men try in vain to throw spears and shoot arrows at the vehicles, but their weapons have no effect. They too are decimated.

Behind the wheel of his jeep, the chief cries out and hits a red button on the steering wheel. A slot in the hood opens up and several fiery arrows shoot out into the sky, aiming for Manslaughter. The dump truck, however, swerves away at the last instant, and the arrows miss their mark.

The vehicles eventually make their way out of the camp, but Tomahawk stays behind. The Chief shuts off the engine and watches the other contestants fade away in the distance. With unseeing eyes he surveys the carnage around him, the wreckage, the corpses, the destruction.

The chief suddenly sees a wounded woman clutching two small children and rushes over to her. He kneels down and turns her face toward his. The woman sobs in pain and holds the children ever closer to her chest. She and the kids are pierced with the arrows from the chief’s car.

“You…. Monster…” she whispers, her eyes wide, her breathing growing short and raspy. The Chief does not react to this statement. He stares right through her, no emotion on his face. He seems to be completely unaware of his surroundings.

His wife breathes her last and dies right there in front of him. He gets up, still showing no signs of cognizance, and walks slowly back into the car. He ignites the engine and zooms away from the ruins of his home.)

No…

(Back in the junkyard, the Chief snaps back to consciousness, with Kane standing over him.

“What… have I done…?” he whispers, his eyes wide and white, his pupils dilated. He pushes himself to his feet and tries to stop  himself from shaking.

“Your crimes are great, Chief Falcon. But not beyond redemption. Go now. Drive until you can no longer. You will find your way.”

“Yes… the Chief mouths. He staggers back to Tomahawk and turns the key, then peels out of the junk yard and onto the desert road.)

I remember it all so vividly now. How could I have done such a thing…?

(Camera shows the right profile of the Chief’s face inside the jeep.)

I am a monster, no better than the other murderers in this competition.

(Tomahawk zooms past a stationary camera, kicking up a cloud of dust.)

I am responsible for the deaths of my family. How can I ever redeem myself from what I have done?

(Flashback to the chief’s wife’s corpse, impaled with countless arrows.)

All I can focus on now is doing just as that man said. I will drive until I can no longer. I hope somehow I can find my way…

(Tomahawk zooms off into the distance as the end credits roll and Black by Pearl Jam plays.)

***

What do you think?

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It's better than the original one. And the twist is incredible.

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Nicely done. Seems better than the last one.

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why was he in the competition that killed his family? I can understand the second one, but not the first one

oh, and by the way Max.. my new fic is almost done and I used your Tomahawk vehicle. the driver has a different name but i'm deciding if its just a nickname for Falcon or if I want him to be completely different. you of course will get full credit either way..

my old fics need to be bumped so the noobs can read em      :)

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I think having it mysterious like that adds a little to it. But if you're aching for context he could either be just fighting for more land for his people/ chasing the contest off the reservation, maybe he joined in when he saw them coming, maybe he's just lost his mind. I'll leave it up to you.

I actually just thought of an even better idea. Maybe he enters the contest to avenge his family, only his family dies at his hands in that contest. It could be some weird time paradox thing or maybe he could have had premonitions about his family dying when they hadn't yet. That's what I should've done. Darn  :P (The second one)

And sweet :) Can't wait to see it and thanks for using my character. And yea these noobs need to see some of the old good stuff  :P

I've been thinking about starting a new one myself, one whole story rather than jsut everyone's gameplay cutscenes. But i feel like I have to finish these first.

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I'll post my new one when the wall cools off. there are way too many fics going on at the same time around here. its hard to keep up

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