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Twisted Metal: Midnight (Read 18300 times)
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #30 - 04/25/10 at 02:05:26
 
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
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #31 - 05/01/10 at 03:04:46
 
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.)
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #32 - 05/01/10 at 03:06:05
 
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  Tongue

Endings coming soon, then perhaps new characters
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #33 - 05/01/10 at 03:19:27
 
Was that Cage that attacked Dandelion? Either way, looking forward to the endings Smiley
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #34 - 05/01/10 at 03:26:04
 
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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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #35 - 05/01/10 at 13:40:28
 
Dandeloin.....LOL. It's definately original for sure.

I got a kick out of it.
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #36 - 05/01/10 at 20:35:20
 
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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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #37 - 05/01/10 at 21:43:24
 
Hmm, so you use 3 end bosses instead of 1? Interesting idea.
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #38 - 05/02/10 at 01:27:45
 
Who do you guys think is my best/most original character so far? Just wonderin
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #39 - 05/02/10 at 01:48:14
 
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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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #40 - 05/02/10 at 16:23:33
 
Riptde, Dandilion, and Pandemic.
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #41 - 05/02/10 at 17:10:12
 
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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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #42 - 05/02/10 at 17:39:19
 
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
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Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #43 - 05/03/10 at 23:45:52
 
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.)


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And like a fly to the fire, you lie Consumed by desire, confused by the sky And like a moth to the flame you came Broken and mesmerized
 
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maxamillionaire
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Is the answer to this
question no?

Posts: 139
Re: Twisted Metal: Midnight
Reply #44 - 05/03/10 at 23:47:41
 
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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