Here's the result of your voting, hope you all enjoy:
The engines rev with intense, thunderous fury. Their anxiety and frustrations drained and replaced with AGGRESSION and ADRENALINE. There is a storm on the rise, a storm made of bullets, missiles and metal. This small town will be the first to see the coming storm, but no one but these drivers will know that it even existed. Twisted Metal begins with the echo of soft eerie music coming from a battered ice cream truck.
The tasty treats truck passes through the streets quietly. Suddenly, truck comes to a halt. The driver is staring at something. Around the corner a black semi creeps into the intersection. Suddenly the ice cream truck lurches forward, shooting at the large semi. The semi backs away from the intersection. The clown foolishly pursues it, suddenly the floodlights atop of the truck flash upon the truck. The black mass's screaming is exerted through it's air horn. The clown swerves out of the way, only to have its rear door and bumper taken off. The clown plows through the yards of many a civilian, trying to get away from the disgruntled demon at the wheel.
Meanwhile, a lonely orange car is perched atop a hill, watching the semi turn to look for the clown. The driver's face, so hideous, cracks a smile. However, the bright lights in his rear view mirror are enough to make him shut his eyes tight long enough to get rained on with bullets. As the horrific man ducks to avoid being shred by machine gun fire, he pulls the parking brake and descends down the hill. However the no longer blind man doesn't anticipate the El Camino having more than just a simple machine gun. A sudden burst of light comes from the side of the car. The horrific looking man's baby blue eyes go wide and he drifts to avoid the incoming missile.
Now he is angry, he stares down the El Camino, staring at the bitter driver and presses a button and hits the gas. The revolving Gatling gun on the back of the stitched man's car rotates slow at first but picks up speed rapidly, pouring round after round into the car until it smashes into the Camino head on. However this preacher is not down, yet. He pulls something from his passenger seat. It's a 12 gauge shotgun and Frank McCutcheon is in perfect range for it. BAM! There goes Frank's right hook, hell, there goes Frank using his left arm. He turns his orange mess of a car away from the El Camino, trading paint with it and running away.
A foolish mistake on his part, for he didn't see the black mass coming around the corner. The driver laughs, wheezing and billowing out a cloud of smoke the same color as his vehicle. HOOONNNNK! Another loud toll from his air horn and the black mass consumes the 1940's Plymouth. What's left of this once great beauty of a car is blood & oil, which has become a decoration for the streets.
The white el Camino begins to charge down the streets until something catches his eye. He stops and backs up until he sees a street where an ice cream truck is creeping. A wicked smile comes across the face of the evangelical failure. The el Camino speeds down the street, a perfect opening, or so he thinks. But no, this is not what it seems. Suddenly a clown emerges from the black shadows of his truck with a M16.
It's quite the effort really, how he swerves to avoid being pelted with bullets. But not good enough as one pins him directly in the neck. He slows down considerably. The clown laughs, but the preacher is laughing even harder. Several yellow lights illuminate his back. The semi found them both, and now he has a split second between life or death. He jumps out of his truck to see it fly backwards and smack into the el Camino. With a glass shard in his ass, the clown stumbles to his feet. However something wakes him up, stand tall and walk toward the street. The sounds of pain and agony soothe his painful walk.
The preacher's car is totaled. But even better, he's still alive, his leg pinned to the inside of the car by a piece of shrapnel. The clown laughs and pulls on him by his shoulders. The man inside the wreckage lets out a painful howl. Another laugh, this time louder. He drops the evangelist when his head is just outside of the driver side door.
The clown walks towards his own wreckage to see his car's weapons lying on the ground, spread out. He sees a purple canister, he throws it. It flies off and hits a house nearby, BOOM. He sees a group of yellow missiles, chucks them off into the grass. Finally, he finds a cracked orange canister with seeping ooze coming from it. He chuckles, carrying the mangled napalm. He slowly walks back to the preacher, savoring the moment. Now he is upon the preacher and waves the orange container filled with sloshing matter inside.
The Clown
...What do I say here? It's been fun? No... You fucked up, you fucked up big. Though I must say, you had part in making me what I am today. You've helped make me the most notorious, and the most recognizable. But this had to end somewhere.
Preacher
Go to hell, you wretched HEATHEN!
He spits blood on the clown's mask. The flames have gotten so hot on his head that the blood and saliva boil. He clamps his hand down on the napalm and turns it over, dousing the old man. To top it all of he forces some down through his throat. The clown rips the preacher's purple cloth from around his neck and sets it ablaze by touching it to his mask. The flames burn away most of the cloth almost instantly, then he drops the cloth back onto the now flammable failing member of god's flock. A burst of light and his body becomes engulfed in flame, with an illuminated throat to boot. The clown walks away, in the direction of the long since gone semi.
No pics yet, sorry. I don't think I'll be adding them until I get extra time but here's a small taste.
END OF ROUND ONE / ROUND TWO BEGINS MONDAY