Story Behind the Map: Deathtrack

[TheTankBuster2 34]

 

“Sir, groundbreaking begins in a few minutes,” the young private was always nervous when he approached the Commander. The boss had been known to take care of people who gave him news that he didn’t want to hear.

 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” the Commander responded. The private nodded and walked out of the dark office. 

 

**********

 

The lights shone in the Commander’s face as he walked onto the stage. He looked out and saw all the cheering people. His army was organized neatly and tightly in their squadrons, all carrying shovels and pickaxes. These were his people. This was his day. He silenced the crowd.

 

“Gentlemen! Today marks the beginning of something special. Something never seen before by anyone. We will bring a new style of entertainment to this world. Our new games will rival those of the Roman gladiators!” A loud cheering erupted at the last statement, but the Commander went on.” Today is the first step to creating the masterpiece. Today we leave our stamp in the history books! Today marks the beginning of the construction of the Deathtrack Games!”

 

The cheering was deafening now. The Commander couldn’t have gone on even if he had more to say. Squadron leaders gathered their men, and they all went to work, beginning construction of the new arena.

 

Six months later

 

The bell rang, and Alan sat down. One more class and he could go home. Of course, it was his least favorite subject: math. And after this class, he would just have to go home, do homework, go to bed, and do it all over again tomorrow. It was only Tuesday, after all. School was not Alan’s favorite thing. He found the things that he had to learn in High School were cruel and unnecessary for his future. However, today was a bit different. A new sporting arena was opening on Friday. Everyone knew about it, and tickets to see the first event were going fast. Alan was planning to stop by their ticket stand after school today and buy himself a ticket. Or maybe two, one for his brother. No, not James. Maybe for his friend, or that girl he wanted to ask out, he hadn’t decided yet. But first, he had to make it through algebra.

 

**********

 

After a torturous hour, Alan walked out of school. All his friends drove to school, and Alan had his license, but he walked to and from school because he lived close enough. Besides, Alan wasn’t going home quite yet.

 

Alan reached the ticket stand in record time. He approached the stand. The ticket vendor looked about fifty years old. He had gray, almost white hair, and seemed quite short in height.

 

“Two tickets, please,” Alan said to the man. The man seemed to ignore what Alan said, and just stared at him. Alan repeated himself, and the man came to life.

 

“How old are you, son?” he asked, still staring at Alan. His voice was hoarse.

 

“Seventeen,” Alan said.

 

“Seventeen?” the man repeated. He must be hard of hearing.

 

“Yes, sir,” said Alan. 

 

“Seventeen,” the man said. “I remember when I was seventeen.” Alan signed. This man did not have much focus. “Life was different back then, you know. None of this new fangled technology that you have. I didn’t have…”

 

“Sir, I hate to interrupt, “Alan started, “but I’m in a bit of a…”

 

“Shut up!” the man exclaimed. Alan no longer doubted his lack of sanity. “You should show some respect for you elders. I never got the opportunity to go to a spectacle like the one that you’re buying tickets for.” And I’m never going to either if you don’t get me those tickets, Alan thought. “Two tickets, you said?” the man asked, finally on his rocker again.

 

“Yes, sir,” Alan said, hoping to finally get his hands on them.

 

“Two. Buying for somebody else, you are. Must be a girl. Guys always throw out more money when there’s a girl on the line!”

 

"Can I just get my tickets?” Alan said, frustrated. This guy was a nutcase.

 

“Yes, yes. I’ll get them right away.” Finally. “Oh,” he said. “I can’t seem to find the key to the cash register. If you come in and help me find it, I’ll give you a little discount.”

 

Alan nodded, and walked around the side, opened the door, and stepped inside. He didn’t see any harm in going in. This man was too old and too weird to do him any harm. The stand was bigger than he expected. Alan approached the man.

 

“Oh, here it is,” he said. He turned around, swinging a wooden baseball bat, which met Alan in the face. Alan blacked out almost instantly, hanging on only long enough to hear the man pick up a radio and say, in a completely different voice, “I’ve got another one for you, Commander.”

 

**********

 

Consciousness came briefly to Alan. A monstrous headache greeting him. All his limbs were stiff and aching. It was too dark to see anything. He was hungry and thirsty. As he slipped back under, he saw a small prick of light in another room.

 

**********

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” the voice was coming from some loudspeaker. Alan was still coming to. “The games will begin shortly.” Alan was in some sort of a cockpit. He pushed on the window, but it didn’t move. He was stuck inside. He looked out the window. Bright lights shone back in. He was on some sort of road, maybe in a car? Around him were other cars; they looked like race cars. They all looked the same, so he must be in one as well. He couldn’t see into the other cars. All around him were stands, full of cheering people. Was this the new sporting arena? It could be Friday already; Alan lost track of time when he was unconscious. The new arena was a race track? That’s cool, but why was Alan one of the racers? The loudspeaker was cackling back to life. Maybe it would give him some answers.

 

“Again, I welcome all of you to our games. We call it Deathtrack. You’ll understand why shortly. I will briefly explain what is going to happen, and then we will get started.” Deathtrack? Just the name scared Alan. The loudspeaker continued: “The rules here are simple. Every lap, at least one car will be destroyed, either in a crash, or, if there is no crash, the last place car will explode. The race will continue until only one car is left. Let me reassure you, the drivers are not in the cars, they are safely in another location.

 

“Now, on the big screen, you will see a complete map of our track. Let me walk you through it.” A screen came to life in Alan’s car, and a blueprint map of the track appeared.

 

 

The loudspeaker went on. “The cars are currently in the wide spot, our staging area. They will then get a rolling start, and cross the start/finish line. From there, it’s down a hill, then an immediate right turn. A long stretch, followed by a series of right turns, then it’s over the brittle bridge. We call it that because it may, or may not, fall apart at some point during the race, just for a little extra fun. Then it’s a series of left turns, and onto the speed stretch. The cars will be going their fastest here, making it the most dangerous part. Then it’s a right turn, and they are back where they started. Remember, the racers are controlling the cars remotely from their quarters, located near the start/finish line.” 

 

Alan, inside his car, was furious. If only one driver was going to survive, that meant that the other fourteen would be killed, and they just lied about these people’s lives. Alan was so mad that he wanted to drive his car into one of the bridges and wreck their track, but he didn’t have control of the car yet.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first race at Deathtrack,” the loudspeaker finished. All the cars started at the same time. The crowd was cheering. The cars began to roll forward. Alan still wasn’t given control. He figured that he would get it after crossing the start line. Sure enough, when Alan crossed the line, he stepped on the gas, and his car started moving faster, the other cars quickly speeding up as well. Alan was among the first to make the first turn and go down the hill. However, as Alan made the turn at the bottom of the hill, another car, going too fast, clipped the back of Alan’s car, sending him spinning. Miraculously, Alan’s car stayed on the track. The other car hit the wall head on, exploding on impact. Alan straightened his car, the others long gone. Alan quickly sped up in hopes of catching back up in the next two laps. 

 

Alan went as fast as he dared. He wouldn’t be killed at the end of this lap, since a car had already been destroyed. By the time he finished the lap, he was starting to see the back of the pack. He continued to race towards them. Nearing the end of the lap, Alan finally passed the next car. When it crossed the finish line, it blew up behind him. Another car down, and Alan was still driving. 

 

**********

 

Lap after lap went by. Alan continued to fight at the back of the pack, hanging on from elimination by passing the last place car soon before crossing the finish line. Several crashes helped give Alan more time to catch the next car. One car smashed into the wall at the bottom of the hill after the finish line. Two other cars crashed into each other on the speed stretch. Alan pushed the thought of crash out of his mind. He had only one goal: win the race.

 

**********

 

Twelve racers were dead. Three remained in contention. Alan was in third place, starting to close on second. The first place racer was climbing the brittle bridge when Alan finished the six righthand turns. However, as the second place racer went over the bridge, it broke. The leader had just gone under it when the ground went out from under the racer on the bridge, who crashed into the bridge support on the other side. Alan, still approaching the bridge, saw only one option. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor and jumped over the bridge. The landing shook his bones, but he kept moving. He dodged the rubble as he went under where the bridge used to be, his sights aimed on victory.

 

Alan chased down the leader. They were mere seconds apart as they crossed the finish line for the second to last time. Alan knew that this was his last lap. He would either win and survive, or die within reaching distance from victory. They approached the former brittle bridge side by side. Alan felt the adrenaline flowing through his veins. Alan pushed the gas pedal through the floor as they jumped across together, Alan taking the lead in the air. 

 

They entered the speed stretch with Alan holding a marginal lead. He felt a bump on the side of his car, and the leader was able to pull ahead. Alan caught up again, this time to secure a win. He nudged the front of his car into the right-rear quarter panel of the leader’s car, sending him spinning sideways off the track. The car hit a wall, putting it out of commission. With no other opponents, Alan had won the race. 

 

But Alan didn’t feel like a winner. Alan slowed his car down, stopping on top of the finish line. He thought of the other racers. Fourteen people that he had passed in order to let them die, the last of which he actively caused. Alan was angry at himself for indirectly killing these people, but he was more angry at the people who organized such an event. These were young people with real lives, and someone had decided that them dying for entertainment was worth that life. Alan pushed at the cockpit glass. It didn’t move. Rage surged into him, and he kicked the glass. It cracked. He kicked it again and again until it shattered. Alan stood up, and the crowd fell silent. It came to them that people had been in these wrecks of cars, and they had cheered their deaths.

 

Alan turned towards the large building inside the arena. He knew what was coming, and he was willing to accept it. He stood defiantly on top of his car. The gunshot echoed through the bowels of the track, the bullet piercing Alan’s chest at 1000 m/s. As the sun began to set on the track, Alan fell off the car, content in the knowledge that this was the last race that the Deathtrack would ever see.

 

**********

 

Day turned into night. The track erupted in chaos after Alan’s death. The crowd was filled with angry at the unnecessary killings that had taken place. The Commander, furious because of the failure of his life’s work, ordered his troops to subdue the mob. 

 

Deathtrack has become a never ending battlefield between the creators and the first audience. It has lasted so long that the people have begun to forget the reason for the war. But the legacy lives on, and the battle will continue for another age.

 

~@TheTankBuster2

Edited January 6, 2018 by Destrod

[Destrod 2,634]

Approved.

 

- Changes in font

- Minor edits

 

I thoroughly enjoyed this piece, the plot is very interesting and the imagery of the map Deathtrack was a smart idea! It reminds me of the savagery that goes on every day, where people are forced to compete to hold on to their dear lives. 

Looking forward to seeing more from you!

[GrandExecutioner 1,403]

Great read!

[Guest]

Really nice story!

[BlueDragon_tamki 3,204]

Cool story

[gokuMI6 1,290]

NICE ONE

Reminded me of soldiers of world wars

Edited February 6, 2018 by gokuMI6

[zaintahir 458]

Loved it, especially your decision to have the main character killed.

[Best_of_thunder_2015 1,354]

first, 

 

I felt like animated movie Cars but nice plot tho. 

 

It was like... I surpassed 13 cars (I very well knew that he would do before he start entering the race) and got the idea of dying innocent people for a petty race. So, Let me die with honor. 

 

good plot. 

[Initiate 1,306]

Congo on 50K! Nice story.

[DieselPlatinum 5,121]

Not only was this map cool for races, but it was also one of the few maps that I enjoyed playing on, many intense battles that I had were in this map.