Beginning:
In the beginning was a spark, the spark of creation that blankets space and time, the one that gave birth to life itself. Prometheus had been punished for this gift to humanity, blessing the folk with a tool that would evolve them from a failed experiment into a permanent fixture. For this, an eagle would violently peck out his liver. only for it to regrow back and the cycle begins anew. Over the span of the next many thousands of years, the irony would only unfold upon itself as humanity would waste this gift to punish each other, therefore punishing itself as a collective until it blew up in everyone's face. Damian Cole had known this feeling for a long time, having witnessed this cycle in the flames of his childhood. The Cold War had teetered on this all throughout his life until the end of the Soviet Union, and while it had naturally upset and scared the populace of the planet, it never affected Damian in the slightest.
It first began as a thought in his head, a strange tingle that would flash whenever he would feel the extreme warmth from the flames of the stove. Soon after he would purposefully touch it just to feel the scalding flesh sizzle over top of it, a feeling for which his parents were obviously concerned. They were even more so concerned when he first grabbed a hold of a lighter and managed to set a couple of cardboard boxes on fire in the back of a buddy's house, noticing a slowly growing attraction to it. They noticed something was off about their only son, and there was nothing that his military father could fix through numerous backhands or beltings to try to knock some sense into the young boy. Damian would grow to be a rather apathetic kid, one who would become unaffected by his father's ramblings about the commies and their slow infiltration into American ideology, slowly hoping to crumble what he felt was common decency into a bunch of degeneracy. He wanted to grow a good man, one loyal to the best country on Earth who would go to all corners of the Earth to fight the evils of communism. While he was disappointed in how he was turning out, he still had loved him and hoped to help turn him around from this dark path once and for all. Jimmy Cole had thought of only one place that could help turn his son into the man that he needed to be: boot camp for kids.
Prison. All he had felt was trapped in some sort of prison, one filled with adults who thought they knew better than him, who would verbally abuse him and subject him to all sorts of exercises at all sorts of hours during the day. He couldn't sleep at normal hours, and other kids would collectively punish him for everything that he failed at. When Damian thought of hell, he thought of hellfire, eternal damnation, the screams of doomed sinners forced to forever endure punishment. A sick irony, though nothing was more ironic than being held down by some kids and having his chest burned, an event that made him more terrified due to his unwillingness to wanting to be punished for their insecurities or be consumed and spat out by some war machine that couldn't give a fuck about him. Before the flames of the gas lighter hit his chest however, time seemed to slow for him and the spark at the back of his head kicked once again. A soothing voice enveloped his mind, and for that split second he felt bliss, the voice of beauty. He could see her vaguely, hidden within the smooth creases of orange and blue.
"I'm here for you…" she had whispered softly, though she soon broke down her motives rather bluntly. "...you're not alone. You have a gift Damian, one that no one except you would understand. They say that the world isn't built for men like you, but the truth is that it very much is built FOR you."
He was confused at the wording, though he was just glad that he had felt another presence, a warmth that he hadn't felt from anyone let alone his mother. After all, who would marry a bastard who would send his kid to fuckin' boot camp.
"Only someone weak would marry a man like that…" she responded, seemingly gazing into the young Damian's head and reading into his thoughts. She spoke again. "...I can't stay for long, but heed my words. You will do great things and I will always be with you in your heart, though in order to speak with me you'll need to embrace the flames. Don't be afraid! Follow the signs."
Like that she was gone and a burn on his chest had scolded it, though he didn't struggle in pain. He felt a warmth that he never felt before, one which had freaked out the other kids enough to where they avoided him like the freak he was. He had understood her words though, and as one of his only friends, he needed to spark the flame in order to speak to her once more. Whatever Jimmy Coles had done only made his son more of a monster, and Damian would do whatever he needed to do in order to talk to this woman once again. First it was small fires again, siphoning gas and burning tires in the depths of an abandoned junkyard where no one would see. Soon he would skip school entirely, hiding wherever he could to instead learn from this woman the knowledge of life itself. She spoke of Prometheus and his gift of fire, how humanity would seek to destroy themselves with such a gift, and that perhaps Damian should accelerate this process. He couldn't agree more, tired of the constant political fearmongering of the military and the anger at the potential to be enlisted.
He thought about what she said, accelerate, and decided to experiment with several chemicals he would steal out of his father's garage. This would send him to jail multiple times for Arson, in and out repeatedly and even through court ordered counselors. It's here that he would put on record his official name for this woman: "The Fire Goddess". Court Ordered Therapy couldn't stop him from burning down a series of abandoned tenements located on the poor side of Houston, The Fire Goddess wouldn't let him. It wouldn't stop him from burning down his old middle school he had gone to in broad daylight, filled with the lively voices of children conforming to society and teachers who would push them into the arms of government. It wouldn't stop him from burning down the county fire station either, finding it hilarious to "bring the fire to them" instead. And it sure as shit wouldn't stop him from turning on the pilot light in the stove of his family home, silently pouring a trail of gasoline to the outside of his old family home and locking the doors for Jimmy Coles and his mother to die in a blaze of hatred. The Fire Goddess didn't need to tell him to do anything, the tension ringing in the back of his head oozed with peace after he had done it.
Nothing would be safe from this point on, as Damian Coles would follow the signs of The Fire Goddess wherever was pointed out. Gas, light, boom; that was the motto. One day while he was caught, he had learned about the Twisted Metal competition, a get together would contestants would blow each other up that happened exclusively in Los Angeles for the time being. Ever excited at the prospect of blowing stuff up, Damian had started to dream about entering for the grand prize, one that had seemed crazy to everyone: a wish, any wish that you wanted. One would think that this was a load of shit, but one that would actually soon pan out due to word of mouth from prisoners that they knew from connections over in California. This Calypso was real, and he found only the craziest people to join the competition.
"You'll get your chance…" she spoke in the back of his mind. He was sad, he hadn't seen her in a while. He won't for a long time.
Christmas Eve, 1996.
For years, Damian had been excited to enter the Twisted Metal competition, finding it to be a way to fuel the fires raging in his heart both literally and figuratively. However, something had changed.. The Twisted Metal competition had gone to Paris to destroy the Eiffel Tower, melted the ice caps and furthered global warming and wrecked Los Angeles so hard that the city had laid in ruins. Houston of course got damaged a bit on the path, but it got out of it relatively more unscathed then other places.
A song started to ring out.
"I'm the bitch you hated, filth infatuated"
This song had played over the radio in his cell he was able to purchase off of commissary for working hard and being a good boy, along with a lighter he was able to smuggle in off of some Aryan chumps. He didn't know the band, but words started to form in his mind that struck the match in the back of his mind.
"I'm the pain you tasted, fell intoxicated"
He understood the pain. The scorching of his chest, all of the beatings from Jimmy Coles. He was surprised he wasn't charged with that one, but officially there wasn't enough evidence to charge him with full on murder. A lucky break, one lucky enough that he had hoped would get him out soon so he could fulfill his destiny.
"I'm a fire starter, twisted fire starter"
That was it. The tingle in the back of his head started to accelerate faster than he had ever done before, almost at fuckin' light speed in his mind. All that he could understand was that fate had arrived at the exact pinnacle of when it was supposed to. Twisted Metal had just ended once again, and he wanted to break out of Houston Prison to prepare for it. Firestarter, that's what he would name himself. Suddenly he saw The Fire Goddess once again, though she was much taller than anticipated. A mushroom cloud erupted right outside of town and the prison went surprisingly cold. A deadly silence however soon overturned in it's grave to become a malignant spirit as everyone had used this as a moment to start their escape. Prisoners would start their prison escape plans in the hopes to get out in time, gunshots would erupt and so would the pattering of loud footsteps. Another mushroom cloud, then another, then another. It seemed as if the whole world would erupt in flames; a gift from The Fire Goddess to Damian himself. It was during the fifth mushroom cloud when he saw the goddess yet again, a vision of her greatness, a vision of his own. The modern day Prometheus, hoping to restart the path of the world. For now though, he would just snatch the key and make an escape as panic unfolded. Soon he would escape out into the wastes and disappear into the wastes. Years would pass, though how many not even Damian would really know. Times would change since the kickstart of the apocalypse, times that would only depress Damian more and more. Civilizations would crop up and continue the mistakes of their predecessors fighting over "turf", corners of the world covered in scraps. He hadn't heard her in a long time and the lack of flame had left him lonely, barely coherent, hungry and more determined than ever to reunite with his one true love. He wondered if having witnessed what was his destiny erupt before him without his involvement had left him unworthy in her eyes.
"Wrong".
She had appeared briefly in the back of his mind, having been hibernating for a long time, whispering things into his ear that he had never even thought of, things that he never dreamed would ever happen again. Faint rumblings of one last Twisted Metal contest. He felt for sure that the results of the last Twisted Metal competition had led to the apocalypse, though he was disappointed that it didn't last. Whoever won last time, they didn't do a good job at cleaning up the mess they made and finishing the job. The Fire Goddess ensured that he would, that all he would need to do would be to drive to the epicenter of Twisted Metal once again: Los Angeles, now known as The Zone, to fight for his chance to fulfill his destiny. Calypso had come back and wanted to give everyone one last chance to heal, one last chance to escape paradise, one last chance for humanity to be reborn. The spark in his eyes lit up once again, crawling into his makeshift hotrod as the words of that song crawled into his mind once again.
"I'm a fire starter, twisted fire starter"
Damian drove off into the distance, ready to blot out the sun and feel the goddess's embrace once again.
Diary Entries:
The Zone- A world reborn in ash, the cycle will be complete!
Savior's Point or Scorched Earth- God saved rebirth for me, not Adam and Eve! Die preacher!
The Arctic or Niagara Falls- These visions….they keep coming to me…they're beautiful! I can't wait to feel…the warmth…
Boss: The Junkyard (Auger & Mr. Slam) or Old Orleans (The Redneck Trio)- They don't know yet do they? How the flame beckons them? Either way it doesn't matter, either they will meet the maiden or I shall instead…
The Belfast Exclusion Zone or London Point- Prometheus suffered the consequences to give man the gift of fire…I intend to do the same, for the good of everyone involved…
Venice or Transylvania- …if only to purge the world anew and make way for nature to grow once more!
Boss: North Korea (Apocalypse 9 Trio) or Mount Rushmore (The Government Duo)- Useless…fighting over the dead man's world…there's only one being who I worship now anyways: The Goddess of Flames!
Chichen Itza Or The Oasis- The last place to contain the Goddess's embrace! Spread throughout the WOOOOORLD!
Kowloon Karnage or Johannesburg- Life is not worth living if the only way for survival is slavery!
Final Boss: Hell on Earth (Minion) or Mexico City (Minion)- EMBRACE ME GODDESS! EMBRACE ME WITH YOUR ETERNAL GIFT OF DECAYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Ending:
The embers of the past drifted across the plains of what once was, already in a faltering state of existence followed by a warm breeze. That warmth invested itself into Damian's smile, satisfied that he had completed the goal that he had wanted to for so long since being trapped behind the cold steel of the Houston Prison System: to join the Twisted Metal competition and bring fire to the planet one last time as Prometheus had wanted. Sometimes to be reborn is to purge it all and start fresh once again, and success was more than ever closing in on his grasp. Throughout his journey he had seen confirmation after confirmation that this was in fact his destiny, the competition being a path that he knew he'd taken before in a different life. D.C., London, Venice, Transylvania, Kowloon, Belfast; all of these places he's seen before had fallen into squalor and ruin, and if they hadn't then it would soon be due to the nature of Twisted Metal. Fire was a comfort for him, a warmth unparalleled by any feeling in the world; the last time he had gotten goosebumps like this was when he saw bombs go off right outside of his cell window. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. The Fire Goddess, whom he had hoped to reunite with for so long was finally staring at him in the face both in his dreams and the waking world. He had finally proved his devotion and grabbed her attention. She had stood there for a while, her figure being literally dreamlike, shaping itself into all sorts of mass and fusion. He didn't really understand what he was looking at particularly, but he didn't care.
"You're here…" he had whimpered happily, a singular tear floating down his cheek as he had smiled, overwhelmed with the feeling of bliss. "...I've admired your creations for so long! Bless Me!" A silence sailed out, violently interrupted. "BLESS ME PLEASSSSEEEEEEEEEE!"
Her face didn't move a millimeter, as if she didn't really care, but neither did Damian. He had finally lost it all, gained the pinnacle of his obsession but lost whatever mental composure he had. He didn't really know how to act in these situations, as it wasn't as if he had ever experienced meeting anyone he admired. He never truly admired anyone. No one but her and the path she had laid behind her.
Suddenly she had floated towards him, a path of scorch dragged behind her and covering everything in all black. His eyes started to close in on itself from the intensity of her light, more tears started to mash itself against the fire starter's cheek with a tingle he hadn't ever felt before. Her fingers had stroked against his cheeks, bubbling a bit of the flesh he had underneath. Numb. That's what he felt. Numb to her touch sadly, but glad he was able to gasp in the presence of greatness once more. Then she spoke.
"Damian…" an ethereal whisper had concocted out of thin air, being everywhere and nowhere at once. Her face didn't move, almost as if a mask had been covering up the truth of what was underneath. "...you have my attention once again, as you've always wanted." Her touch this time was intense to the point he had started to shake, though it was the kind of tingle on his body that felt like the ultimate form of pleasure. The climax to the point in his story as smarter people than him would probably engage. She spoke one last time.
"Now as the winner of the Twisted Metal contest, what is it that you wish for?" she inquired with a voice crack, this time with a visible feeling as if there was a smile beneath that warm exterior to something even greater. He couldn't tell if she was nervous as well, or perhaps pushing her voice out a little too much. It sounded a bit deeper this time as well, a little bit more masculine. Nothing was as masculine as fire however, and thoughts of his obsession scorched through his mind. His home. His family members. The school he used to go to. Those kids. Any and everything that he could've ever dreamed for had finally led to this moment, it was like hitting the lottery and reaching his life's goal. A purge. One final purge for this cruel and disgusting world, away from all the serial killers and scum that come with it. Prometheus long ago had delivered fire to humanity that was stolen from his fellow gods to help extend humanity's growth according to his school teachings, and now in a strange way Damian was going to do the same. Steal the flame, give it to the Earth, and let humanity grow once more.
"The Eternal Flame, your highness!" his southern twang rang out, stammering as he had gotten on his knees in sheer awe of what was before him. "I want to see it one last time! Burn the planet so we can start fresh! Whatever it takes!" he had belted out, confident that no matter what his wish would come to fulfillment.
"YOUR WISH…" the Fire Goddess had started to belt out slowly, though this time it was even more strange. It sounded more and more like a man with each passing word, each syllable as it grew darker and more cold. What Damian had approximated to be her eyes had gone from the same blend of orange to a decrepit black, flustered with a new brand of fire whose flakes had seeped through his skin and seemingly into his very soul. "...IS GRANTED!" the being had screamed, cackling as a strong wind had gathered around the two. In that moment, an orange coated lightning had struck down the soiled earth in front of Damian before the fire phased through his body, tickling him with its burns and disappearing into the wind. The Fire Goddess was no more sure, but he could already see his wish coming true.
He had gathered his thoughts for a moment, realizing that he had in fact became the modern Prometheus once more, bringing fire once again to the people of the world, except not in the way he expected. He had thought maybe some nuclear bombs would go off once again, or perhaps a blanket of fire would sail over top of him like Noah and the floods. No, this was something completely different. The sun slowly crawled it's way towards Earth as if he was wounded prey being pounced upon by a hungry wolf, hungry for food and desperate for survival. Sweat formed upon Damian's face, sweat that had seemingly turned into bullets and burns would sizzle across his forehead to the point where it would dig into his skin. He couldn't tell if the Earth was moving closer to the sun now, or vice versa. In that moment he hadn't really cared, though he was horrified now at his own actions. He wanted Earth to be reborn, not for it to collide with the sun! It didn't matter anymore however, what's done is done and the only true feeling he had as every feeling in his body had started to overwhelm him. His eyes scorched itself to the point where he had lost all color in his sight before black. Now he was just like the Fire Goddess, a man ascended into spiritual form, one with the flame.
The stars had gazed around Earth as the planet and the Sun had both started to push towards each other, mucking about the gravitational pull of the solar system for the last time until mother nature took her place. Earth had disappeared in the blink of an eye, swallowed by the sun, the screams of the people only capturing one second before disappearing entirely. On the surface of the Moon, a strange man in a space suit had been watching from behind a glass dome, right next to where America had placed its stamp on it with Armstrong and Aldrin. It was a magnificent display, an artistic rendition of a time period that had come and gone; a canvas of life and death, the cycle ending no more. Loads of strange pods seemed to have gone past into the shadows behind him, shadows made ever more sharp by the light the Sun had provided, swallowing the Earth whole as the natural predator it was. A man had appeared to watch, red eyes staring from behind the bowl on his head, an American patch on his shoulder. He moved his finger to a pad on his left wrist. A push of a button flipped the bowl back one safety lair to reveal a familiar face: Calypso, the burnt man with crispy skin and a decrepit figure of sorts. The frozen tubes behind him pushed itself out even more, revealing flags from numerous countries on the pods. Russia. Mexico. France. Uganda. Taiwan. India. The United Kingdom. Ireland. The United States. Many more would come into the light of speculation, but it seemed to have been some sort of old program to build a moon base, a colony in case of events like this. Another set of puppets for Calypso to work with in the near future. He smiles out towards the Sun, the evil grin having glued itself to his face as one last sentence had appeared from his mouth.
"MY NAME IS CALYPSO! AND I THANK YOU FOR PLAYING….TWISTED METAL!"