Ok peoples, it's been quite a long time since I've posted one of these. For those that haven't read my other three fanfics, this won't be anything new (aside from hopefully quality). But for those that have read my older ones, mind you that this one is written a little differently. I've included a first-person-esque viewpoint, as well as narration. Also, it's a lot more story-driven with less dialogue than usually. I hope you guys like it as much as the older ones, as this will more than likely be my last one. And yes, it's long like the others, too, so it'll be broken up into multiple posts over the next couple days. I'll have it fully posted before TM2012 drops on Tuesday, though. ENJOY THE SHOW!


"December 21, 2012 was the last day on Earth."

(Viewing close-up of a dilated pupil.)

"Oddly enough, it had nothing to do with the Mayan prediction of a world-wide natural catastrophe."

(View slowly backs away to reveal a foggy, light blue iris.)

"Nobody knows who fired first... but within seconds, Washington DC, New York, Miami, Denver, Los Angeles, Moscow, London,
Prauge, Berlin, Rio De Janeiro, Kenya, Beijing, Tokyo, and Sydney were attacked with nuclear weaponry. This was the start of the third and final World War.

(Pause; deep breath.)

It didn't last long though. Within weeks, the entire planet had succumbed to radiation poisoning on a massive level. Entire metropolisis' were reduced to rubble, their populus' deminished to nothing."

(View backing away to reveal a burn-scarred face and long, unkempt hair.)

"Governments fell, survivors arose in panic, riots ensued. It was complete and utter chaos. Angry mobs attacked and destroyed local law enforcement officals who got in their way. Any police and task force agents left alive went into hiding in fear of their lives. What was left of the U.S. government issued the military into major cities to try and keep control, turning the country into a police-state. It took months, but the mobs subsided and went into hiding of their own."

(View backing away to reveal Calypso, sitting atop a throne of destroyed car parts. He wears a tattered suit with a red tie. The red tie is only worn once a year. An industrial score is quietly heard in the background.)

"It's been just over two years since the events of 2012. Things have changed. The world is no longer the way anyone can remember it. Most of the world's population has died, either from the initial nuclear strike, or the fallout that ensued. Those who survived that didn't seek shelter have been disfigured or deformed from radioactive poisoning. What was once known as a civilized nation has fallen back into primitive times. Groups of people have formed into large tribes, based on various things like class, religion, and belief structure. The tribes have been fueding ever since, and thats where I come in."

(Calypso cracks a wide smile as the music stops.)

"Welcome to Twisted Metal."

(Calypso laughs maniacally as the view quickly zooms out and through a window in a loft office atop a large parking garage. An aerial view shows the surrounding city in ruins with smoking rubble everywhere.)

"Unfortunately, the times have also changed Twisted Metal."

(View is now a side profile of Calypso as he walks to an unknown destination.)

"What was once viewed as a plauge of mayhem is now seen as a means of thinning out the herds. The herds that threaten the rebirth of the United States, that is. With the malicious ways of the tribes and their battles, the military has deemed it unsafe to interfere with them. As long as they stay away from safe havens and other places of peace, the government leaves them alone to do justice their own way. And because the tribes come to me for a chance to compete in my tournament, the government has sanctioned Twisted Metal as a means of doing their dirty work of eliminating these threats. And to mix things up a bit, the prison systems send me a couple of death row inmates as well, making me responsible for more dirty business."

(Calypso stops walking, and looks directly at viewer.)

"And let me tell you, business is booming."

(Calypso continues walking.)

"The tribes each select a single driver, one they deem as their best warrior. They come from all walks of life, all with their own agendas. Usually, it's a selfish wish of power. A wish that usually gets them killed either by their own people,or enemy tribes. We are truly back to the primitive."

(cell phone ringing)

"Let me get that. Excuse me."

(Calypso pulls out his cell phone.)

CALYPSO:"Hello? Ahh, General Mason. I have been expecting your call.

-----

The inmates are ready? Excellent, I'll be on my way shortly to meet your convoy.

-----

Understood, Blackfield Penn it is. Good day."

(Calypso puts his phone away and looks at viewer as he continues walking.)

"My first two contestants are being shackled and loaded up. We're on our way to meet the prison convoy now."

(Calypso approaches a black Cadillac Escalade and climbs into the back. The viewer follows. The vehicle pulls away.)

"After we pick these two up, we'll be heading to a sacred spot in the desert known as The Gathering of the Tribes. This is the one spot where the tribes commune to where violence is forbidden. This is also where the tribes pick their warrior for Twisted Metal and present them to me. Afterward, the tribes disperse and fighting is prohibited until sunrise the following day. Heh, at least these people still retain some sort of ethical manner."

(After a brief drive, the Escalade pulls up to a large prison surrounded by a tall, electrified fence. A sign at the entrance reads, "Blackfield Penitentiary". Outside the gate are several military Humvees and an armored vehicle. Several armed personnel patrol the area. Calypso gets out and greets the commanding officer.)

CALYPSO: General Mason, how are you?

MASON: Fine, and yourself?

CALYPSO: Fine as well. Do you have the dossiers on the drivers?

MASON: Right here.

(Handing over folders to Calypso.)

CALYPSO: Just as I suspected; Needles and Cage.

MASON: Yeah, you had to know it was coming. We just want these two dead and out of our hair.

CALYPSO: Understandable.

MASON: We haven't seen two killers this brutal since Stalin and Hitler. I'm hoping we can get the job done this year.

CALYPSO: Well, that's up to the drivers.

MASON: And you can't 'make' it happen?

CALYPSO: Sir, do NOT insult me. I will in no way interfere with the contest to tip the scales in anyone's favor.

MASON: I see. Well, the prisoners are now under your care. You know the consequences should they be allowed to escape into the free world.

CALYPSO: Quite clear. Let's get them transported.

(The two men shake hands and part ways. Calypso returns to his Escalade and takes off into the desert with the armored
transport in pursuit. Calypso turns back to viewer.)

"Now that we have these two, it's time to meet up with the tribes and find out who the rest of the drivers will be this year."

Comments and critiques welcome.

(After a long drive, the Escalade pulls up to a large mass of vehicles parked in a circle. In the center stands twelve people, surrounding a bonfire. Calypso hops out and makes his way through the thick crowd. He addresses the masses.)

CALYPSO: As you all know, I am Calypso: creator of Twisted Metal.

(Cheers arise from the crowd.)

CALYPSO: You have come before me for a chance to compete in my contest, and be granted a wish of your choosing. Have the drivers been selected?

CROWD: YES!!!

CALYPSO: Very well. Drivers, step forward and present yourselves.

Several people step up before Calypso, hands behind their backs in a show of respect. A large, brute native American comes forward first.

CHIEF: I am Chief Iron Sky of the Western Cheyanne tribe.

He steps back in line. A beautiful woman steps up next.

LISA: I am Lisa Kim, queen of the PMS tribe.

She gets back in line as several people laugh at her tribe's name, having no clue what it actually means. A scarred Hispanic man steps out.

CHAVEZ: I am Chevez Guerrera, leader of El Locos.

He steps back as the next driver, wearing a long trenchcoat, steps up.

MARCUS: My name is Marcus Kane, leader of The Nomads.

CALYPSO: No need for introductions, Kane, I know who you are.

Needles, sitting chained up inside the van behind Calypso, lets out a loud laugh. The next steps out. He wears a full-headed respirator mask
and speaks between gasps of air.

KABAL: I am.. Kabal.. of The.. Sideshow.

The next driver steps out, wearing full riding leathers and a helmet. He has a deep, echoing voice.

GRIMM: You know who the fuck I am, Scarface.

CALYPSO: With the name-calling, I'd swear you were the clown. Back in line, Grimm.

Grimm laughs as he steps back. Another familiar man steps up, dressed in all black.

ASH: I believe you'll recall who I am as well, Calypso.

CALYPSO: Indeed. I guess the nuclear fallout didn't reach the black gates of Hell afterall.

ASH: No, but your soul will, soon enough.

Ash gets back in line. The next driver steps up, horribly disfigured. He has a steel prosthetic leg and arm, as well as
a red prosthetic eye with half of his face being plated in steel. Almost cyborg-looking. His voice sounds as if it
comes from the inside of a coffee can.

TINMAN: I am Tinman. I have no affiliation.

He steps back in line. Another driver steps out.

PREACHER: I am Jebediah. You should be very familiar with me by now, demon.

CALYPSO: Of course, the murderous preacher. How could I ever forget a man such as yourself? The last time I saw you, you were well on your way to becoming the next Needles Kane.

Needles lets out a sarcastic laugh in the background. Jebediah is growing noticibly angrier.

PREACHER: I will not succumb to your cunning attempt to garner my wrath, serpent. Justice will be found through
God's will, not my own.

CALYPSO: That's funny, because Carl and Jamie Roberts said the same thing. And they're long dead. I wish you luck, Bible Thumper.

PREACHER: I won't need luck with God on my side.

He steps back in line. A fat, blonde man steps out next.

SIMON: I am Simon Whittlebone Jr. I represent The Builder's Union.

CALYPSO: Ahh yes, I remember your father. His death was indeed tragic. I assume you're here to carry on what he started.

SIMON: That would be correct.

Simon steps back in line. Calypso addresses his new participants.

CALYPSO: Ladies and gentlemen, you are the new era of Twisted Metal. And with a new era, comes new rules. New challenges.
There is no border to where you can go. The land, sea and air are your battleground. There are no mechanics to patch up
your rides. Weapon pick-ups are no longer plentiful. This will be the most brutal battle of attrition this contest has
ever seen. Endurance is key. I wish you all the best.

Calypso steps down from his soapbox and makes his way to the prisoner transporter.

CALYPSO: Ok, let them out and watch them closely.

Several armed guards open the the back doors of the prisoner transport van. Cage and Needles step out, shackled from head
to toe. A dozen armed marines stand ready, red dots covering the two prisoners.

NEEDLES: I love a warm greeting.

CAGE: You would.

Needles and Cage are loaded into their respective vehicles. Once inside, they are secured to their seats as to prevent
escape once the match starts. Chains are lashed to their shackles, then secured to hooking points welded to the insides
of their cars.

(viewer facing Calypso)

"Essentially, their vehicles are mobile prison cells. They are secured inside and have tracking devices planted in them.
If they sneeze in there, we'll know about it. This all seems strange, I know, but the contest had to evolve with the
rest of the planet unfortunately."

The entire crowd disperses slowly. Night begins to fall, with a small glow coming from what's left of the bonfire. The
tribes retreat to their homes, while the drivers follow Calypso's convoy east.

(viewer in back of SUV with Calypso)

"Our starting point this year will be Baton Rouge, Louisianna. The contest has yet to see the southeastern part of the
country, and I feel it's about damn time. Plus, with the weather there, it's sure to stir things up a bit."

By morning, camp is set up and the drivers have been briefed. They are released to their starting locations, with a few
hours to set up strategy, run maintenance on their vehicles, catch up on sleep, whatever they desire.
As noon strikes, Calypso pops up on the in-car monitors - the only device Calypso has installed in the combatant cars.

CALYPSO: Drivers, this is it. I wish you all the best of luck. Now, without further ado, let Twisted Metal begin!

Keep going and KICK MY ASS!!

Magnum wrote on 02/15/12 at 07:20:12:

KICK MY ASS!!

KISS My ass?

Interesting story. I enjoyed it and look forward to the rest of it.

Some of the dialog seems a little awkward. That is my only criticism.

Yeah, and it's few and far between compared to my other stories. I was concentrating more on the environment, atmosphere, and the characters. The dialogue was kind of there to give the driver's some personality. I mean, I could have done some really fleshed-out lines that really connected everyone and got the meat and potatoes of the story across, but it was taking forever to write and in the end, I just wanted it done.

Kabal... had a Mortal Kombat moment  :)


Good stuff Man.

I did lol. Kabal was always such an interesting person to me, but no one ever gave him a good story. I figured it was time to give him his 15 minutes of fame back. If you notice, I like to have cameos and appearances from other known people (like Makarov, Ghost, and the Irish guy from MW2 in my last story).

Awesome.


I always felt Kabal was a bit underrated. In the new game, he is a lot better. Granted, he had that infinite blockstring early on, and, people called him cheap. Still, a rather fun character.

The one night I played the new MK, he was my second pick... Nightwolf was my first.

Nice. Nightwolf is very balanced. Mileena is my normal "main" character. But, I play quite a few. In the Storymode, Nightwolf was a total badass.

Simultaneously, all the cars surge forward in the hunt for their first victim. Calypso has set the cars miles and miles apart, making the hunt much more intense. Calypso makes his way to Warhawk, his personal jet and bird's eye view of the contest.

(Viewer following Calypso and taking a seat across from him.)

"There is a reason I decided to come to this side of the country this time around. In the almost 20 years I've been doing this contest, one unpredictable element has never come into play, has never tested the skills of these drivers. And that x-factor is weather. Rain isn't a big deal, and earthquakes have never occured during the time of the battle. Well that has changed. See, one thing I didn't mention to the drivers is that there is an F5 hurricane swirling about in the Gulf of Mexico, and it's making a beeline for Baton Rouge. Now, I know I said that there were no limitations on where they could take the battle to, but based on the surroundings, I dont think they'll venture too far from the city. It wouldn't be an easy task to drive the streets with the condition they're in, and the wasteland surrounding the city is too barren and desolate to wander out into, with no gas stations or supplies. And most of all, there is no place to hide."

Warhawk starts it's ascention high above Baton Rouge. The bright, sunny skies prove to be the proverbial calm before the storm, as the surf and rains quickly approach the shores of Louisianna.

Tinman reaches center city first, being the fastest car in the competition with his twin-turbocharged Chevy Camaro Z28. He gently sweeps the edge of the town square, letting his retinal scanner track heat signatures in the vicinity. Nothing. He makes a slow turn into a narrow alleyway, only to be confronted face-to-face with his immediate opposite: Mr. Slam. Both men lock eyes, while slowly reaching down to ready their signature weapons. Slam fires first, launching a large grappling hook at Tinman. It pierces the Camaro's re-enforced panelling, securing itself to the car. The battery cell for Tinman's optical laser reaches 100%, and fires. The 1800-degree beam hits Slam's armor plating, immediately boring a hole in to it. Suddenly, Tinman's car starts to roll toward the giant front end loader. He applies the brakes, but to no avail. Realizing that the grappling hook's winch was now pulling his car into Mr. Slam's claw attachment, Tinman slips his car into reverse, pins the gas and dumps the clutch. The Camaro starts to pull way from Mr. Slam, but is soon haulted as the rope reaches it's end. Smoke  starts to boil off of the rear tires, but it is no use. He is slowly, surely, being pulled to his demise. As the warning beeper for Tinman's optic laser goes off, he gets an idea. He puts his car into first and rolls toward Slam. The newfound slack in the rope tethering Tinman to Mr. Slam falls into the laser, severing their ties. Tinman quickly puts his car back into reverse and takes
off back down the alley. As soon as he's clear into the street, he whips a 180 and proceeds to make his escape. Slam follows behind, unloading his machine guns. Just as his front loader clears the alleyway and into the street, he is met by a more formidable opponent.

ASH (through loudspeaker): Hey Slam, why don't you pick on someone your own size?

SIMON (muttering): Sounds like a plan to me.

Both vehicles surge forward in a modern-day joust. They simultaneously unload with their gatling guns, and each fire off a frag missile. And simultaneously, both find their marks. Darkside and Mr. Slam rock from the impact, both skidding sideways. As they slide passed each other, they get back on their guns, pelting each other with bullets. They come to a stop several yards away, facing the opposite direction from one another.

ASH (through loudspeaker): That was fun! We should do it again sometime!

As Darkside starts to pull away, Simon regains his composure.

SIMON (muttering): Now just where in the fuck do you think YOU'RE going?!

Simon utilizes the articulating shell and four-wheel steering of his rig to make a tight and quick u-turn. He is soon in pursuit of Darkside.  The 1200 horsepower Detroit turbo-diesel Caterpillar soon catches his target.

SIMON: I NEVER SAID WE WERE DONE PLAYING!!!

Simon pulls the release for his grappling hook, sending it flying into the back panel of Darkside. Simon stands his brakes, bringing Slam and Darkside to a halt.

ASH: Oh, you have GOT to be fucking kidding me.

Looking around, Ash realizes that Slam has stopped him in the middle of a huge intersection. To his left, Brimstone is making a beeline right for him.

PREACHER: Begone, devil spawn!

To his right, Medusa is closing in fast, machine guns blazing.

ASH: Ok, enough of this horseshit.

Ash steps on the gas, but Slam has him held tightly in place. Ash tries again, this time flipping a toggle switch mounted in the dash of his rig.
Pressing two steering wheel-mounted buttons, Darkside's two-step nitrous system kicks in. Slam slowly starts to roll forward.

SIMON: What.. the.. FUUUCK?!?

Simon stands on the brakes, but it's no use. Mr. Slam is no match for Darkside's 1450 horsepower Cummins diesel as it drags him into
the intersection. He is soon covered in a smoke screen created by Darkside's rear tires. Glancing to his right, between plumes, Simon
sees Medusa's power missile about to make contact.

SIMON: SSHHIIIII....

The impact is devastating. Even with his harness strapping him tightly into his bucket seat, Simon is shaken around like a ragdoll. Ash laughs
maniacally as he drags Slam around like a dog on a leash. Medusa and Brimstone take advantage of the situation, pelting him with bullets and
missiles. Slam's armor plating starts failing quickly, taking heavy fire. Brimstone sees an opportunity to strike.

PREACHER: It's time to end your miserable existence, Mr. Whittlebone. REPENT!!

One of Preacher's followers readies himself into the crudely-made catapult mounted in the bed of Brimstone. Preacher pulls the ripcord, and
sends his sacrificial lamb flying toward his target. With perfect timing, one of Medusa's machine gun bullets severs the rope binding Slam to Darkside. Simon immediately puts his machine in reverse and out of the path of Preacher's bomb. He hits the pavement with a sickening thud and explodes, sending large chunks of flesh and concrete into the air.

PREACHER: You cannot escape the wrath of God so easily!

Brimstone makes a hard u-turn and closes in on Slam once again. Missiles and bullets are exchanged. Creeping in silently and quickly is Grimm,
riding a wheelie and dragging his scythe on the ground, turning it red-hot. He dips and dodges large patches of destroyed concrete as he gets closer to his victims. With Brimstone's back turned, he throws the flaming scythe and makes contact. The blast sends the car reeling helplessly,
and into the waiting jaws of Slam.

PREACHER: Lord, save me!

The claw attachment slowly closes down on Brimstone, crushing the roof in. Simon begins to raise the car into the air, then with a thunderous smash, brings it back down again, crushing it into the pavement. And then again, and again. Preacher starts to lose consciousness, when the assault is suddenly stopped. Medusa fires her special weapon, a tank of liquid nitrogen, at Slam. The ensuing explosion causes the hydraulic fluid to thicken, making the front end loader almost useless. Grimm and Medusa take this opportunity to fully unload on Slam, bringing the brute down to his knees.

(The F system is for Tornadoes, Hurricanes are measured in Categories)

Good stuff, so far.  This battle seems intense, plus I love the realistic element of disabling weapons, like cutting Slam's tether.

You know, you're fucking right.. and the sad part is that I was at one point studying to be a meteorologist. Now I feel like a 'tard lol. Thanks though, I appreciate it. In all of my stories, I try to keep a sense of realism.. well, as real as shooting cars with missiles can be, anyway. No magical health banks, no glowing weapon icons to run over..

Good stuff, Bro. Really digging this.

Thanks man. If you like those, I have three others floating around here.. two on this wall, and one still over on TT that never got moved.

Thank you mods for cleaning up that nonsense. Very much appreciated  ;)


Roadkill steadily makes his trek along what used to be known as Interstate 10. Large chunks of concrete have fallen to the ground below, causing gaps in the overpasses. The blown Pontiac 400 under the hood of his '69 GTO Judge make quick work of the gaps, though, only slightly slowing him down. In the distance, he sees his brother taking an off-ramp into the city below.

CALYPSO (looking at viewer): Oh, this should be gooooood.

Marcus plants the gas pedal, putting the 495 horsepower on-tap to the pavement. He quickly closes in on his older brother, and sends some shells his way to say hi.

NEEDLES: I see you, little brother. Let's hope I can teach you a thing or two.

Too busy looking in his rear view mirror, Needles fails to notice the jacked-up Jeep Wrangler headed directly for him at the next cross-section. As Sweet Tooth rolls through, he is t-boned by the mammoth Jeep. Marcus slams his brakes, skidding to a stop. He has a look of sheer shock on his facing, having just witnessed the horrific accident, and immediately realizing that had it been him in front, he'd be as flat as a pancake.

CHIEF (shouting to Marcus): THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND THE CLOWN, BOY. YOU WOULD BE WISE TO LEAVE!

Cutting the wheel, Marcus slowly turns into a nearby alleyway and makes his way to the other side. Unfortunately for him, he is met by White Knight.

CAGE: Now, is that anyway to treat family?

MARCUS: My brother died when that sadistic sack of shit back there was born. I owe him nothing.

CAGE: Oh... well that's good to know.

Cage opens up his flamethrower, covering the front of Roadkill in fire. Marcus takes off, the front of his car now charred and black. Cage follows in behind, keeping the fire going while unloading his chainguns. Marcus does the best he can to defend, dropping some grenades from his side window. The ensuing explosions are enough to slow down the White Knight and give Roadkill some breathing room. He drifts around the first corner he sees and presses on, only to run smack into the middle of Sweet Tooth and Hammerhead exchanging blows.

Kabal slowly rolls through downtown Baton Rouge. Using the flashing lights atop his ambulance as bait, his eyes quickly dart from side to side, looking for any signs of an enemy; his Oxygen Bombs ready to deploy. However, Doc Rukus sits in alleyway up ahead, ready to pounce; his Shockwave EMP ready to go. Kabal's breathing gets louder and heavier as his anticipation grows. Suddenly, Rukus springs from his hiding spot and mashes the big red button on his center console, activating his special. The overpowered stereo system in the back of Chavez's car emits a nasty shockwave, sending Freekshow skidding back. The built-in EMP temporarily kills the power to the ambulance, leaving Kabal as a sitting duck. He desperately tries to restart his engine, but to no avail. His breathing getting more and more hectic. Rukus finally recovers from his own blast, and starts putting bullets into Freekshow. The shell casings start to pile up around the old lowrider. Chavez starts laughing and cheering maniacally as his bullets rip into Kabal's car, when the WARNING light on his dash comes on, signifying that his machine guns are overheated. The spray comes to a halt. Without skipping a beat, he reaches down and pushes two yellow lights next to his gear shifter, each one launching a frag missile.

Kabal gets his rig started, and throws it into reverse. One missile dips low and crashes into the ground, but the other one finds it's mark on the broadside of Freekshow, sending the old ambulance onto two wheels. Kabal expertly brings it back down on all four rubbers and proceeds to retreat in the opposite direction. Doc Rukus gives chase, firing off a power missile. Freekshow swerves at the last second, narrowly escaping the deadly missile as it hits the front of an old, brick building. Debris is sent flying into the street. Amidst the bouncing and skiddng around, the two back doors of Freekshow swing open, revealing it's secret weapon: four oxygen tanks strapped with C4, and rigged up to a homemade launcher.

CHAVEZ: What in the hell is that shit?

Kabal pulls on a rope that runs to the rig. It fires off the tanks, making a beeline for Rukus. Chavez slams the brakes, but it's no use. The tanks fall just short of a direct hit, but the impact is enough to send his car airborne. The Buick collides with a wall mid-air, and crash lands on it's side. Freekshow skids to a halt, and Kabal gets out to assess the situation. He looks up to the sky as black clouds, thunder, lightning, and strong winds start to roll in. Rain slowly starts to fall.

CALYPSO: The moment we've all been waiting for. The hurricane is coming ashore now.

Not seeing any movement, Kabal drives back to confirm his kill. He pulls along side Ruckus, and peers through the windshield. Chavez lies still. As he turns to leave, a bright red light comes on inside the car, catching his eye. Kabal turns back to see what it is grabbing his attention, and finds himself in deep shit. Chavez, playing dead, quickly slams his hand down on the red light, sending out another Shockwave EMP. With his ambulance parked right next to the source of the shockwave, Freekshow is knocked back with the force of a wrecking ball, straight through a concrete wall. However, Doc Rukus is also a victim, the shockwave sending him barrel rolling down the street. He crashlands through the storefront of a local bakery. The rain starts to come down harder.

Kabal slowly starts to pull himself from his wreck of a vehicle. With the ambulance of it's side, he crawls out through what used to be the windshield, but collapses on the ground outside. Gasoline steady streaming from the cracked fuel tank, into the street. Chavez is also fighting to get out of his destroyed car. Pulling himself out from underneath the wreckage that is Doc Rukus, he stumbles back out into the street. Dizzy and incoherent, he doesn't hear the sound of his death coming down on him. Tinman is coming in hot, with Grimm right on his ass. Even through the cold rain, Tinman catches Chavez on his thermal scanner and makes a line right for him. The speedometer in the Camaro approaches triple digits. Chavez turns around, just in time to watch the Tinman mow him down. Blood and guts splatter all over the flat black Z28, sending excess body goo onto Grimm.

GRIMM: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Sensing another weak, dying soul nearby, Grimm locks up the brakes and skids to a stop. Tinman quickly disappears into the distance.

GRIMM (sniffing): Is that gas I smell?

He laughs to himself, and looks to the left. There lies the mangled mess formerly known as Freekshow, with Kabal laying next to it. With the air lines to his respirator severed, he's gasping for air, unable to move.

GRIMM: Here, lemme help you with that.

With a smile on his skull face, Grimm strikes his scythe on the ground, sending a spark toward the stream of gasoline coming from the ambulance. The gas ignites, and starts making it's way back to the source. Grimm takes off laughing, as the flame trail reaches Kabal's last Oxygen Bomb and detonates, obliterating everything in a one block radius. Kabal and his vehicle are buried in the rubble.

The black clouds roll in quickly, as the hurricane begins to breach the shoreline. The showering rains and heavy cloud cover produce an artificial night over the town. From high above in Warhawk, the only visible lighting comes from the fires created from battle, and the headlights from the contestants roaming around the city.

CALYPSO (pointing towards to storm): Here comes our plot twist. This should get quite interesting.

With Mr. Slam incapacitated, the claw holding Brimstone releases it's pressure, letting the old car go. Preacher, dazed and hardly conscious, turns the key. Nothing. After several minutes of violently thrashing the interior of the car and cranking the ignition over, the car finally fires up. It's immediately obvious that Brimstone is on it's last leg, as he slowly rolls on. Checking his inventory, Preacher finds himself at a great disadvantage: one bandolier of chaingun rounds, two homers, two frags and one Sacrificial Lamb. He sets off, in search of a worthy arsenal.

PREACHER: Lord, protect my soul and lead me to salvation! Subdue those that would bring me harm! Free me of this evil!

His prayers are soon answered, but not in the way that he was looking for. Up ahead in the distance, Medusa and Darkside are engaging in their own twisted version of David and Goliath. Ash lays on the bullets, while Lisa Kim uses her racing background to twist in and out of danger.

LISA: Let's see if you can take it as good as you give it.

She fires off a rear-aimed frag missile, making a direct hit into the nose of the black rig but to no avail. She fires another, still not even scratching the surface. The pink lowrider chained to the front of Darkside is serving it's purpose well as extra shielding.

ASH: Is that all you got, bitch? HA!

She fires two more missiles, both resulting in the same.

LISA: Oh my God, I can't do this alone.

Up ahead, Preacher finds himself in a no-win situation. Brimstone has stalled in the middle of the road, and refuses to fire back up.

PREACHER: LORD! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!

With no choice left but to put up a good fight until the inevidable strikes, Preacher gets on his machine guns and missiles, unloading in the direction of the combatants headed his way. Lisa Kim turns her eyes from the rear view mirror, and is met with gunfire and two frag missiles. Cutting the wheel of her Pontiac Sunfire, the track-built suspension does it's job of keeping her safe as she scrubs off the frags. Both find a new mark on the front end of Darkside, his makeshift shielding starting to show signs of it's end. Preacher fires off his last two homing missiles and Sacrificial Lamb. Medusa is ready again, turning the wheel and planting the gas pedal to the floor. The 330-horsepower supercharged Ecotec pulls her out of the path of the first homer, sending it straight into Darkside. One of the chains securing the old Thumper to the nose of the rig snaps, dragging the car along the road in front of him. However, the second missile finds it's place on the black sports car's passenger side armored paneling, severly damaging it. As Medusa skids to a stop, the screams of the
Sacrificial Lamb are heard as it sails over the top of her car, and crashlanding on the hood of Darkside.

PREACHER: Bullseye, demon!

In his final breath, the human sacrifice screams out, "REPENT!", as he is blown to bits. It's a substantial hit to Darkside, as his windshied is blown out and the last chain holding the pink lowrider up is broken. It's sucked under the wheels of the behemoth, being destroyed for the last time.

ASH: Man of the Cloth... you WILL pay for that one with your life.

The two black vehicles close in on Brimstone. Preacher pulls out of his Magnum revolver, and puts it to his temple.

PREACHER: Lord, forgive me for this sin, for I shall see you in Hell.

He closes his eyes and pulls the trigger. The hammer clicks, but nothing. He pulls it a couple more times, but the result is the same. He opens the chamber to reveal six bullets, loaded and ready to go.

PREACHER: WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!

He aims the gun at his forehead and pulls the trigger again, and again, nothing. He aims it at the dash of his car and pulls the trigger. It fires as it should, punching a large hole into the radio. He fires another round into the gauge cluster. He returns the gun to his head and pulls the trigger, but nothing once more. He empties the gun through the roof of the car and throws the empty revolver out through the driver's side window. Rain begins to pour into the car via the new bulletholes.

As Medusa decends on him, Preacher dives to the floorboard and covers his head. The sound of Lisa Kim's Sunfire roars by, but no gunfire accompanies it. Through confusion and sheer morbid curiosity, Preacher pokes his head up and peers around. His eyes find her, sitting in the street behind him, still. After what feels like an eternity, Medusa takes off quickly and disappears into the distance. Breathing a sigh of relief, Preacher turns around to find a full-speed Darkside barreling into him. The wreck is earth-shattering, leaving nothing behind but a pile of crumpled, rusted steel and a giant splatter of blood. Darkside doesn't even hit his brakes.

As Medusa pushes on ahead, the high winds start to push her car around the road. It takes every ounce of strength and reflex in her body to keep the black compact in one piece, weaving around the rolled cars and other debris caused by the storm. Darkside, on the other hand, plows through everything like a battering ram. It isn't long before he's back on Medusa's rear bumper, keeping the pressure on hot.

ASH: Miss me, bitch?

Lisa Kim peers into her rear view mirror, noticing that Thumper is no longer guarding the grille of Darkside.

LISA: I see your little pink friend didn't survive the fight with the holy roller.

She rips the e-brake up, spinning her car around 180 degrees. Without skipping a beat, she drops the transmission into reverse and keeps driving, opening up the gatling guns and firing a few missiles. Darkside takes a
thrashing this time, warning lights going off in the cab. Ash returns his own fire, miniguns and frag missiles sounding off. Lisa Kim expertly dips and dodges everything thrown her way, only taking the occasional bullet. She returns with her only power missile, blasting the black semi in the radiator grille. He quickly falls back, as Lisa spins car back around again and continues on her path. It isn't long before she finds the barely-living Mr. Slam and Simon Whittlebone.

LISA: You have got to be kidding me...

SIMON: Make sure the prey is dead before you leave it behind, you stupid cunt....

Simon shoots off the last of his arsenal, consisting of a few frag missiles and a homer. Once again, Lisa dodges the attempts and pushes on.

LISA: I'm not even going to waste any more time on you, you fat fuck.

Lisa launches a nitrogen tank, connecting with a bullseye. The motor of the front loader immediately dies out, and the shell of the vehicle begins to ice over. As Lisa Kim rushes in to finish the job, she sees a small orange glow in the distance. It's Grimm, rolling in full steam with a Flaming Scythe ready to go. Lisa slams her brakes and skids to a stop, watching intently as he throws his weapon expertly. It makes perfect contact with his target. The brittle metal easily comes apart as the hellacious explosion sends pieces of the front loader everywhere. Grimms skids to a stop across the intersection from Medusa. He pulls a Scythe from his leather jacket, the metal slowly turning bright red. Medusa is already primed with a nitrogen tank.

GRIMM: Looks like it's just you and me out here now, sweetheart. Don't worry, though. I'll be gentle.

LISA: Who ever said I like it gentle?

GRIMM: HA! I like you.. it's just too bad, that, well... you know.

LISA: Yeah, it IS too bad.

Just then, Grimm is sent flying as a frag missile strikes him from behind. Tinman is coming in hot, gatling guns blazing and missiles screaming ahead. His car slides around the streets, being pushed back and forth by the 190 mph winds and gusts of rain. Lightning streaks across the sky, momentarily lighting up the battlefield as if it was a cloudless day. Grimm and his bike lay sprawled against a brick wall, silent. Medusa turns to Tinman and charges ahead, both trading bullets and missile attempts. They zip passed each other, then spin around and line up to joust again. As they take off, Tinman fires his Optic Laser. Medusa slides out of it's trajectory and fires a power missile in retaliation. It connects hard, destroying much of Tinman's armor and sending the Optic Laser awry, slicing into some of the buildings along the road. Warning lights and buzzers begin to sound off inside the Camaro. Tinman's power supply begins to drop. Medusa smells blood and moves in for the kill, machine guns firing. Out of nowhere, she is t-boned by Darkside, coming in from a small side street. He slams her into a brick wall, crushing the small car instantly. He savors his kill for a moment before back away, leaving the black Sunfire smashed half-way through the old brick structure. Blood steadily runs out from the cracks and crevices.

The destroyed wall begins to rock back and forth in the wind, it's structural integrity compromised from the crash and Tinman's laser. As Darkside begins to pull away, Tinman fires a pack of Cluster missiles toward the black behemoth. All find their mark, dealing massive damage to the rig. Tinman begins his assault on Darkside, firing frags and homers as he accelerates toward his target. But he is cut short as Grimm silently swoops in from behind
and EMPs the Camaro. He slowly rolls to a stop next to Medusa's carcass, and next to the heavily damaged wall. Tinman desperately tries to get his car restarted, but with no luck.

GRIMM: Let's see if robots have souls, too.

Grimm throws a cooked Scythe at the wall, taking out what's left of it's structural support. The entire front half of the building comes down on top of Tinman, crushing his car and burying it in the rubble along side Medusa.

GRIMM: Hmm, I guess not.

As the dust begins to settle, Darkside is seen escaping the scene with what little defense he has left.

GRIMM: Oh hell no, Ash. I promised Him I'd bring you back with me.

Grimm tears off after Darkside, skidding around all of the debris caused by the storm. Missiles and bullets are thrown off of their paths as the Cat5 hurricane is now on top of them. Grimm finds it difficult to hang onto his handlebars as the vortex threatens to rip him up from the ground. Darkside blazes through the middle of the town square, destroying a large fountain in the middle. Water sprays into the air and is slung into a mist with the winds and rain. Grimm tears through after him, ramping off of a crushed car. He sails through the air, Flaming Scythe in hand. He throws it hard, cutting through the gusts. Grimm lands a bullseye as Darkside rear-fires his last defense, an EMP. The explosion is catastrophic, as Darkside erupts in a blaze of napalm-fueled hellfire.

Grimm is hit with the EMP, bringing him to the ground with a halt. The engine refuse to fire back up as the hurricane descends on him.

GRIMM: YEAH! TAKE ME HOME, BABY!

Grimm is quickly sucked up into the funnel cloud, bike and all. His maniacal laugh still heard as his body is spun around in the vortex. A small eruption is seen as his motorcycle explodes.

CALYPSO: We're down to the final four. This promises to be intense!

Roadkill, Sweet Tooth, Warthog, and Iron Sky make their way down Main Street, trading bullets and missiles. All four vehicles have battered each other to oblivion over the last few hours, and their vehicles are showing it. Loose body panels flap in the wind. Warthog falls to the back of the pack. Roadkill takes notice and immediately sends a frag missile rearward. Warthog takes the hit and pushes on, shattered glass littering the asphalt as the contestants
push on. Iron Sky and Sweet Tooth sideswipe each other repeatedly, firing 9mm sidearms at each pass. Roadkill releases a couple of homers, each one hitting a different target.  

IRON SKY: Stay out of this fight, boy. You are not my enemy!

Iron Sky drops a patch of oil behind him. Roadkill hits it, instantly losing control of his car. As he struggles with the throttle and steering wheel, Warthog rushes in, making up lost ground. Roadkill continues to spin around, losing momentum. Warthog attempts to crush him beneath his treads, but the junk GTO skids out of the way, only taking slight damage to his rear quarter panel. The tank hybrid pushes on after his other two adversaries. Sweet Tooth hits his brakes and drops in behind Hammerhead. The ice cream truck starts pelting the rear end of the Jeep with bullets and Napalm Cones. Iron Sky replies with a couple of rear-fired frags and a power missile. The hit sends Sweet Tooth into a wheelie, slowing him down and allowing Warthog to close the gap. He opens up his Flamethrower, cooking the back of the ice cream truck.

CAGE: I got you this time, motherfucker! HA!

Roadkill quickly catches up to the pack with his blown 400 big block Pontiac GTO. Flames spit out from the exhaust tips with every gear change.

MARCUS: No one kills my brother but me!

Roadkill closes in on the rear of Warthog. Cage is too busy to notice the company to his rear. Marcus spins the barrel of his Schrapnel Cannon to face the front, and fires. Large pieces of junk and jagged steel fire from the cannon with a sonic boom. The schrapnel quickly cripples the wagon portion of Warthog, ripping most of the roof off and exposing the driver compartment. The Flamethrower promptly cuts out.

CAGE: Great! Now my hair is going to get all wet!!

Cage pulls out an Uzi and reaches over his back seat, spraying bullets through the gaping hole in the rear of his car. The bullets bounce off of Roadkill's extra thick armor plating.

MARCUS: Is that all you got?!

Marcus runs his car up onto the sidewalk, and along the passenger side of Warthog. He drops his steel plate window down and aims his pistol-grip shotgun at the passenger door of the wagon. He fires a shell of 12 gauge buckshot into the side of the car. Cage is heard screaming incoherently from inside. Marcus pumps it and fires again, this time blowing a sizeable hole through the door. Peeking inside, Cage is seen holding his side, blood steadily pouring from his rib area.

CAGE: If I can't take your faggot brother with me, I guess you'll have to do!

Cage rips the steering wheel to the right, running his tank treads over the driver's side corner of Roadkill, crushing his fender and headlight. He slams his brakes and lets Warthog get ahead, while setting up his cannon for another shot. Cage zero-turns his tank around and faces Roadkill head-on. He immediately begins his final assault, emptying his gatling guns and firing up the Flamethrower for the final time. Marcus slams his car into reverse and takes off, weaving left and right to ward off the bullets. However, the Flamethrower can't be dodged so easily. The heat quickly starts to crack the glass behind the steel plating on the windshield. Marcus shoots off a couple of homing missiles,
but they do little to shake the tank.

CAGE: BURN, MOTHERFUCKER! BURN!

The windshield finally shatters from the heat, sending tempered glass all over the dash and lap of Marcus. He gives the rope to the Schrapnel Cannon a good, hard tug. Another sonic boom shakes the ground beneath the GTO as more junk steel is fired ahead. Quickly, the flames cease and Warthog makes a sudden 90 degree turn, crashing into a storefront. Marcus brings Roadkill to a stop and surveys the scene. Warthog, now with most of the wagon on top destroyed, sits motionless. Marcus moves his shotgun to his lap. He watches Hammerhead and Sweet Tooth move farther into the distance, then steps out from his car. Shotgun drawn and ready, he slowly approaches Warthog. The wind and rain batters him as me makes his way across the street. Lightning cracks and thunder booms all around him. He finally reaches the tank and rips open the driver's door, shotgun trained on the occupant. Cage's dead
body slumps over, still in his military restraints. A large piece of rebar sticking from the front of his skull, slightly exiting the rear. The blood quickly pumps out from either end.

MARCUS (laughing to himself): Holy shit! What a fucking shot!

Marcus looks over the rear end of the tank to see Iron Sky and Sweet Tooth coming back. He sprints back to his car, straps himself in, and takes off. Hammerhead is steadily taking bullets while rear-firing his own machine guns. Roadkill gets on his own guns, peppering the front of Hammerhead.

IRON SKY: I told you, this is not YOUR FIGHT!
Iron Sky turns a crank mounted where his passenger seat would be. It begins to tighten a rope leading to an oversized crossbow set up in the back of his Jeep. A defining click is heard, locking the crank in place, readying the oversized arrow for fire.

NEEDLES: What the fu... nope, I'm not even getting involved in that.

Needles hits the brakes, letting Iron Sky proceed on ahead. He rests his arms and head on the steering wheel, watching the fight about to take place. As Hammerhead and Roadkill close in on each other, Iron Sky pounds his fist down onto a lever next to the crank handle. The lever releases the lock on the crossbow, firing the arrow directly at Roadkill.

MARCUS: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?

Marcus slams his brakes and cuts the wheel, sending his car into a sideways skid. The arrow strikes the already-weakened rear quarter panel, ripping straight through it like butter. The impact sends Roadkill tumbling backwards in a barrel roll. Iron Sky proceeds ahead, backing up the arrow with gunfire. As he closes in for the kill, Roadkill's Schrapnel Cannon randomly discharges, sending scrap metal into the path of Hammerhead. It takes out the massive tires underneath the Jeep, sending the lifted machine into an end-over-end roll of his own. Iron Sky is tossed from his vehicle, landing in the street with a sickening thud. He lies still in the road, his blood flowing with the heavy downpour into the city's drainage system. Hammerhead crashlands on top of Roadkill, sandwiching it between the truck and the concrete.

NEEDLES: Wow, two birds with one stone and I didn't have to do shit. Where's the challenge in that?

Needles slowly rolls towards the mayhem he just witnessed, stopping next to the heap of metal consisting of Hammerhead and Roadkill. No movement is seen. He continues on to where Iron Sky is laying, showing minimal signs of life.

NEEDLES: I guess I can get a kill in here afterall.

Needles stops the truck next to the dying indian chief, and pokes his head out through the window.

NEEDLES: HEY! YOU DEAD YET OR WHAT?

IRON SKY (breathing heavily): You killed my entire tribe.. my wife and my baby daughter.. and you've been allowed to live these last three years without consequence. You must pay for what you've done.

NEEDLES: Well, if it's any consolation there, chief.. you're about to be joining them.

Needles backs his truck up, and pulls forward again, stopping just as the treads of his tires touch Iron Sky's head.

NEEDLES (shouting out though the window): If you need to make your peace with God, I suggest you do it now!

As the chief begins to pray, Needles stomps the gas, crushing Iron Sky's head like a grape.

NEEDLES:HA! I hope he had enough time!

Needles takes off, heading towards to outskirts of town.

CALYPSO: Now just where in the hell does that clown think he's going?

Two military Humvees swing in to intercept Sweet Tooth, but he fires a flurry of Napalm Cones at them. They are quickly dispatched of.

CALYPSO (on the radio): Mason, cut the power now! The contest is over!

Immediately, Sweet Tooth's engine cuts off and the battery power goes dead. The ice cream truck slowly rolls to a stop just outside of town. Mason's Humvee quickly pulls up, followed by a prisoner transport vehicle. Armed marines pour out of the back. Warhawk makes a speedy landing as well, just off of the roadside. Calypso hops out and makes his way towards Mason. The armed guards pull Needles from his truck, quickly locking him down in shackles.

(View following Calypso; winds and rain whip about.)

MASON: You know, Calypso, you picked a shitty spot to host the contest this year.

CALYPSO: I had my reasons, Mason. It's proven to be one hell of a show this time.

MASON: So.. Needles won. Did Cage survive to be brought back in, or is he K.I.A.?

NEEDLES (shouting over the wind): He's deader than your limp fucking dick, asshole! HA!

CALYPSO: The clown is correct, in a manner of speaking.

MASON: One down, one to go then. I'll see you next year, Calypso. Keep your nose clean.

CALYPSO: I'll try to do that. What about his wish for winning my contest?

Mason stops in his tracks.

NEEDLES: Yeah?! What about my wish?! Don't fucking rip me off again, Scarface.

MASON (looking at Needles): Don't you think me not blowing your retarded fucking head off is prize enough?

Needles spits in Mason's face and laughs.

NEEDLES: You don't have the balls to do it, you peckerless faggot! You're a pussy, just like that feeble old fuck grandfather of yours. At least I got the joy of killing HIM, while you hide behind irons and a pack of soldiers.

Mason pulls out his government-issued .45 and shoots Needles point blank in the forehead. Blood, brains, and skull fragments spray out in to the wind, scattering across the sands.

MASON (to the armed guards holding Needles' dead body): Leave him there. The vultures will get it tomorrow.

The guards drop Needles' lifeless body into the dirt, and walk away. Calypso, in awe, walks over to the corpse.

CALYPSO: You survive Twisted Metal for almost two decades, and you're brought down by a sargeant with a grudge. I simply don't believe this...

As Mason's convoy heads into the wastelands surrounding Baton Rouge, Calypso's Escalade pulls up.

(View follows Calypso into the back seats.)

The drive home is silent until Calypso's cell phone rings.

CALYPSO (looking at his phone, then at viewer): It's General Mason...

Calypso hesitantly answers, and sets it to speaker phone.

CALYPSO: Yes, Mason. How can I help you?

MASON: Curious... what WAS the wish Needles was talking about?

CALYPSO: Hold on, let me look at his paperwork for this year..

(View showing Calypso flipping through Needles' dossier file.)

CALYPSO: Needles' wish was......

Calypso falls silent, only muttering under his breath.

MASON: Well? What was it?

CALYPSO: .... to die.

After a few seconds of silence, a click is heard as Mason hangs up the phone.

(View is a slow acension from the front of Calypso's Escalade towards the sky, looking back towards Baton Rouge as the hurricane finishes leveling the city in it's wake.)

Well that's it, guys. Lemme know what you think.