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Well, considering there's a fan-fic contest over here coming up that I'm going to enter, I thought I might as well type up something and post it here. Obviously by the name, it's going to be something akin to Streets of Rage, only with several changes. Like the cast, for example. Take a guess at who the characters are.
Oh. And this is a Work in Progress. I'll be re-editing the Chapters as I post, but for now, if you want to comment, do so.
===
Rage On The Streets, World In Chaos. A Fan-Fic in Progress.
----
...A few years ago...this city was a place where people of all walks of life were accepted, somewhere peaceful, free of violence and where anyone could fit in and belong in society. Some even considered it a paradise as the people seemed kind, generous and in a sense, happy and content with their lives.
But then...everything changed. One day, the mayor to city died. Attacked in broad daylight by a lowly criminal before the position of power was swiftly replaced by two figures who'd share the role of governing the city, especially after they dealt with the minor crime wave efficiently and in a matter of days. It sounded like nothing had changed. Everyone was happy like before...but crime slowly started to increase to the point it was common-place. Those in a position of power did nothing. It soon became apparent why.
The police, once kind and honourable people had become corrupt...or rather...they'd been bought off to let the crime spread. But it didn't end there. Those who could've stopped this were silently removed while things became worse. It soon became apparent that a powerful criminal organization...a ruthless, tyrannical syndicate known as the Malhonnêteté had taken control of the police force and didn't stop there. The politicians...the government...the army...it soon became clear no-one was safe, especially when the two 'mayors' of the city were revealed to lead this twisted organization.
...The saviours had turned into the ones who'd drag the city down into a state of misery, crime to the point people tried to flee this place to no avail...
Of course...that isn't to say that all hope is necessarily lost just yet. A trio of youths, having recently finished their education have banded together to save the city from itself. Each one of them, fighting for their own reasons...but all share the same goal. To liberate the city and bring an end to the crime and corruption...
--
An explosion. The sound of metal being crushed and fragments of twisted, scorched steel raining down on a road...the scent of fire and fuel fills the air as smoke billows into the sky from what’s left of a small truck which seems to be already riddled with bullets. It could be considered more of a ‘ute’ however, as the ‘trailer’ seems to have been dislodged and become pieces of wood and dented metal that would be no use. Of course, that was kind of obvious.
Staring at the destruction, a young man gave a sigh of irritation and merely spins his left arm, wincing a bit. If this was from either from pain of that crash or him merely being annoyed by what just happened…it was hard to tell, despite his face being illuminated by the flickering flames and street lights.
He was obviously in shape, decently built and obviously strong and stood tall at about five foot six, looking rather handsome but his choice in clothing was…odd, to say the least. Draped in a jet-black leather vest which was worn ‘open’, it did rather well with the torn and tattered singlet which was dark red and black trousers. A crimson glove was on his left hand.
Those eyes of his which seemed to show a rebellious spirit and a desire to fight…were a surprising shade of red and grey. As in, the left was grey and rather dull, while the right was a fiery red. His hair was mostly jet-black and scruffy, with a few streaks of red mixed in. It was hard to tell if this was his natual hair color, but that's not really important. His skin was a normal shade, but partially with a tan. The only other thing to note was that he was cleanly shaved and gave another sigh as he watched the truck be engulfed by the flames.
“…Friggin’ ‘ell. Someone wanna explain whose bright idea it was to let the old man drive? GOD! You guys wanted to get here in one piece, right?! Then why the hell did you idiots let him behind the goddamn wheel?! Seriously! You're probably as thick as these punks we'll be beating up!” he sneered, looking quite annoyed.
He stood in silence for a moment before two other figures walked over, obviously who he was speaking to. One was clearly only eighteen, possibly nineteen and the youngest one there. About five foot eight in height, very built and probably far stronger than his outward appearance, the clothing he was dressed was mostly in a very dark shade of metallic blue. A long-coat, what seemed to be a mesh long-sleeved jacket and metallic leggings worn over trousers.
His hair was midnight black; his skin was a bit pale and eyes were obviously a cold blue, which was probably obvious given his attire. Calmly dusting himself and glancing back at the remains of the burning ute, he remained perfectly silent, finding it un-necessary to say a word or show any sign of emotion as he glanced over at the third figure…who was carrying a fourth, far older man.
The youth in question looked startlingly familiar to the first, at least in terms of physical build, but that was probably where the similarites ended. His hair was neat, tidy and a mouse-coloured brown, while his skin was close to a deathly-looking pale. Left eye was green and the other silver…and his attire consisted off a grey long-sleeved shirt and black trousers…while a black glove was on his right hand.
And who the figure he was carrying? A man who was likely in his early forties, but looked considerably younger. Dressed in a burnt and white medical coat and unconscious, the figure carrying him sighed.
“Well, there goes our way out of this city. Of course, I don’t think any of us are really going to turn around now and brave that blockade again...especially on foot. Still, I guess we’re lucky to be alive and in one piece.” the brown-haired one smiled, looking rather relieved to be alive. “What about you guys? I know the doctor’s out cold…but we should be okay for a while…”
His look-alike gave a small huff and folded his arms, still looking very annoyed, briefly mentioned the stupid circumstances they were stuck in and stamped his foot. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood and continued to curse under his breath and probably would’ve said something more offensive he wasn’t cut off by a knife flying through the air and barely missing him.
The figure in blue turned to the shadows and merely turned his head as several figures emerged from the alleyway nearby, dressed in tattered clothes, not looking like anyone really worth mentioning and having a tattoo on their arms, or in what seemed to be the 'leader's' cases, on their head. It seemed to be a raven, spreading it's wings. In Either case, it was clear they weren’t friendly as many were either cracking their knuckles or giving a malicious grin.
“Alright…! Beating up punks like you is REALLY going to work off some stress! So about you just stand still while I beat the crap outta ya?!” the red-gloved one grinned and simply let one of the thugs charge at him before delivering a simple slap to their face, taking everyone present there by surprise before delivering one hell of a kick to their throat, causing a sickening crack, a gurgled cry and sent the poor thug falling backwards and remained still.
Those who were still standing? They merely blinked in surprise at what happened before they all took a swing at the red-gloved youth, charging at him at once. He found it too easy to evade, either by weaving through the punches or blocking them with his gloved hand, one was too slow to react after they missed and found himself grabbed by the arm, have the said limb broken, swung around once like a rag-doll, screaming...essentially knocking down several more of the punks and threw the guy away, leaving all but one still standing and conscious.
“Hah. Is that ALL you punks can do? Really, if this is the welcoming committee…I’d hate to see what pansies the rest of you losers are!”
Obviously enraged, the last one standing lunged forward, eyes blazing with hatred and malice before finding a red-gloved fist crash into his stomach with speed faster than he'd expected, only to be followed by another stunning punch and for it to end with a powerful blow to the bald man’s head, causing him to stagger back and collapse, bleeding.
“Heheh. I suppose it serves you losers right! Anyway, I suppose we should get moving, right?” the young man smirked, dusting himself off and turning to his allies. "What? You know we can't really let them know we're here, right...?"
Oh. And this is a Work in Progress. I'll be re-editing the Chapters as I post, but for now, if you want to comment, do so.
===
Rage On The Streets, World In Chaos. A Fan-Fic in Progress.
----
...A few years ago...this city was a place where people of all walks of life were accepted, somewhere peaceful, free of violence and where anyone could fit in and belong in society. Some even considered it a paradise as the people seemed kind, generous and in a sense, happy and content with their lives.
But then...everything changed. One day, the mayor to city died. Attacked in broad daylight by a lowly criminal before the position of power was swiftly replaced by two figures who'd share the role of governing the city, especially after they dealt with the minor crime wave efficiently and in a matter of days. It sounded like nothing had changed. Everyone was happy like before...but crime slowly started to increase to the point it was common-place. Those in a position of power did nothing. It soon became apparent why.
The police, once kind and honourable people had become corrupt...or rather...they'd been bought off to let the crime spread. But it didn't end there. Those who could've stopped this were silently removed while things became worse. It soon became apparent that a powerful criminal organization...a ruthless, tyrannical syndicate known as the Malhonnêteté had taken control of the police force and didn't stop there. The politicians...the government...the army...it soon became clear no-one was safe, especially when the two 'mayors' of the city were revealed to lead this twisted organization.
...The saviours had turned into the ones who'd drag the city down into a state of misery, crime to the point people tried to flee this place to no avail...
Of course...that isn't to say that all hope is necessarily lost just yet. A trio of youths, having recently finished their education have banded together to save the city from itself. Each one of them, fighting for their own reasons...but all share the same goal. To liberate the city and bring an end to the crime and corruption...
--
An explosion. The sound of metal being crushed and fragments of twisted, scorched steel raining down on a road...the scent of fire and fuel fills the air as smoke billows into the sky from what’s left of a small truck which seems to be already riddled with bullets. It could be considered more of a ‘ute’ however, as the ‘trailer’ seems to have been dislodged and become pieces of wood and dented metal that would be no use. Of course, that was kind of obvious.
Staring at the destruction, a young man gave a sigh of irritation and merely spins his left arm, wincing a bit. If this was from either from pain of that crash or him merely being annoyed by what just happened…it was hard to tell, despite his face being illuminated by the flickering flames and street lights.
He was obviously in shape, decently built and obviously strong and stood tall at about five foot six, looking rather handsome but his choice in clothing was…odd, to say the least. Draped in a jet-black leather vest which was worn ‘open’, it did rather well with the torn and tattered singlet which was dark red and black trousers. A crimson glove was on his left hand.
Those eyes of his which seemed to show a rebellious spirit and a desire to fight…were a surprising shade of red and grey. As in, the left was grey and rather dull, while the right was a fiery red. His hair was mostly jet-black and scruffy, with a few streaks of red mixed in. It was hard to tell if this was his natual hair color, but that's not really important. His skin was a normal shade, but partially with a tan. The only other thing to note was that he was cleanly shaved and gave another sigh as he watched the truck be engulfed by the flames.
“…Friggin’ ‘ell. Someone wanna explain whose bright idea it was to let the old man drive? GOD! You guys wanted to get here in one piece, right?! Then why the hell did you idiots let him behind the goddamn wheel?! Seriously! You're probably as thick as these punks we'll be beating up!” he sneered, looking quite annoyed.
He stood in silence for a moment before two other figures walked over, obviously who he was speaking to. One was clearly only eighteen, possibly nineteen and the youngest one there. About five foot eight in height, very built and probably far stronger than his outward appearance, the clothing he was dressed was mostly in a very dark shade of metallic blue. A long-coat, what seemed to be a mesh long-sleeved jacket and metallic leggings worn over trousers.
His hair was midnight black; his skin was a bit pale and eyes were obviously a cold blue, which was probably obvious given his attire. Calmly dusting himself and glancing back at the remains of the burning ute, he remained perfectly silent, finding it un-necessary to say a word or show any sign of emotion as he glanced over at the third figure…who was carrying a fourth, far older man.
The youth in question looked startlingly familiar to the first, at least in terms of physical build, but that was probably where the similarites ended. His hair was neat, tidy and a mouse-coloured brown, while his skin was close to a deathly-looking pale. Left eye was green and the other silver…and his attire consisted off a grey long-sleeved shirt and black trousers…while a black glove was on his right hand.
And who the figure he was carrying? A man who was likely in his early forties, but looked considerably younger. Dressed in a burnt and white medical coat and unconscious, the figure carrying him sighed.
“Well, there goes our way out of this city. Of course, I don’t think any of us are really going to turn around now and brave that blockade again...especially on foot. Still, I guess we’re lucky to be alive and in one piece.” the brown-haired one smiled, looking rather relieved to be alive. “What about you guys? I know the doctor’s out cold…but we should be okay for a while…”
His look-alike gave a small huff and folded his arms, still looking very annoyed, briefly mentioned the stupid circumstances they were stuck in and stamped his foot. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood and continued to curse under his breath and probably would’ve said something more offensive he wasn’t cut off by a knife flying through the air and barely missing him.
The figure in blue turned to the shadows and merely turned his head as several figures emerged from the alleyway nearby, dressed in tattered clothes, not looking like anyone really worth mentioning and having a tattoo on their arms, or in what seemed to be the 'leader's' cases, on their head. It seemed to be a raven, spreading it's wings. In Either case, it was clear they weren’t friendly as many were either cracking their knuckles or giving a malicious grin.
“Alright…! Beating up punks like you is REALLY going to work off some stress! So about you just stand still while I beat the crap outta ya?!” the red-gloved one grinned and simply let one of the thugs charge at him before delivering a simple slap to their face, taking everyone present there by surprise before delivering one hell of a kick to their throat, causing a sickening crack, a gurgled cry and sent the poor thug falling backwards and remained still.
Those who were still standing? They merely blinked in surprise at what happened before they all took a swing at the red-gloved youth, charging at him at once. He found it too easy to evade, either by weaving through the punches or blocking them with his gloved hand, one was too slow to react after they missed and found himself grabbed by the arm, have the said limb broken, swung around once like a rag-doll, screaming...essentially knocking down several more of the punks and threw the guy away, leaving all but one still standing and conscious.
“Hah. Is that ALL you punks can do? Really, if this is the welcoming committee…I’d hate to see what pansies the rest of you losers are!”
Obviously enraged, the last one standing lunged forward, eyes blazing with hatred and malice before finding a red-gloved fist crash into his stomach with speed faster than he'd expected, only to be followed by another stunning punch and for it to end with a powerful blow to the bald man’s head, causing him to stagger back and collapse, bleeding.
“Heheh. I suppose it serves you losers right! Anyway, I suppose we should get moving, right?” the young man smirked, dusting himself off and turning to his allies. "What? You know we can't really let them know we're here, right...?"
Last edited by Nameless on Mon Jun 20, 2011 7:00 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Fixing it up.)
