Running w/Advantage

A Story by Abishai100

Fanfiction of the fast Schwarzenegger graphic-gem about manmade dystopian game/show labyrinth of Hell requiring cleats for chandeliers.

The Running Man (Arnold Schwarzenegger) adaptation.

DISCLAIMER: This work of fanfiction offers no ties to the work of inspiration and is cast as purely a 'personal' expression of social arts (for 'open' interpretation).

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RICHARD: How could you devise such a contest view for survivalism worksheets?

MAXINE: I was the head of the Corp.; and you became my scapegoat-runner (IQ).

RICHARD: Had I not been the miracle survivor of your evil show, we'd all weep.

MAXINE: Don't be so flippant, valiant man of Earth; you're already survivor-fame.

RICHARD: And you're going to criminal insanity therapy, false President Maxine.

MAXINE: Facebook-like.

Maxine was in deed evil; and she devised the horrifying Running-Man canyon/ravine survivor-game of incomplete-distances readings of the human quotient of primal cleats non-humility; in a future world of great capitalism vanities, forced labor, and 'elected' runners for escape and entertainment, the Running Man (TV program) had become President Maxine's special circulated 'expression' for laughter at the expense of likely death of 'Gladiators' for amusement (Facebook-like!).

MAXINE: I found a crazy incarcerated bank robber the TV-audiences will crave.

MEDIA CONSULTANT: The Running Man is a very odd (or dark) success, Maxine.

MAXINE: They'll think of me as Steve Jobs himself (ha).

MEDIA CONSULTANT: Facebook-like.

Richard was placed inside a canyon area in the American Homeland, armed only with a liquid-nitrogen (ice) gun designed to make simple, few, precise, and deathly-required single-shots at the designated 'bad-guys' positioned around, insane ex-convicts all (freed for the game/show) with terrible weapons...and it was all televised (for the Ego!).

Richard immediately sensed that President Maxine had placed about a trio of masked evildoers as the bad-guys in the canyon-labyrinth, with cameras all around, and some hidden in the cave-walls (damn). Every time Richard got the chance to blur/destroy a camera in angst (or fury), he did. This only drove the TV-audiences more wild, in an Earth-realm incompletely-dark with darkened capitalist sensibilities of selfish-like vanities for bloodlust game cravings at the expense of these 'elected' ex-convicts. Richard thanked his gods for the ice-gun in his jacket (damn).

RICHARD: Who're the villains in the labyrinth, trainer?

TRAINER: One guy splashes acid and wears some Mardi Gras get-up.

RICHARD: The 2nd?

TRAINER: The Bunnyman (flame-thrower).

RICHARD: I have to shoot ice against fire (damn).

TRAINER: The 3rd is named simply Ben.

RICHARD: Sounds evil.

TRAINER: He's got a chainsaw and a sporting mask to match, Richard (sorry).

RICHARD: I'd better train how to shoot ice for cleats...Facebook-like.

Not only did Richard make it out of the Running Man canyon-labyrinth of a demonic quality of incomplete-distances readings of the awry walls of manmade bureaucracy-arts, but he returned to President Maxine's glass-fortress in the city and nabbed her with evidence there was no intention for the producers to see any of the contestants ('running-men') to actually survive the game of Hell (wow). This was not tourism for any fashion (wow).

MAXINE: This is what that greatest American hero made in my laughter.

PSYCHIATRIST: Two comics stick figure doodle of old Earth restorations (ha).

MAXINE: It was all over the media post-deeds for my incarceration, doc (damn).

PSYCHIATRIST: Seems Richard was some kind of crusader; simply needed (ok).

MAXINE: I can't express why art didn't make for my celebrity of devil-qualia.

PSYCHIATRIST: That's why you're in here now...long crayons for Klonopin (ok).

MAXINE: Facebook-like.

Richard was (eventually) given the chance to run for office, as the US environment began to radically shift, and it was all thanks to the unusual shift-keys of the Running Man (damn). Richard recounted how he escaped those 3 hellions of darkness inside the canyon-labyrinth, like that acid-sprayer and chainsaw-fool (wow). Now, he just wanted to cheer-on Super Bowl ads, as America once-more began to feel more democratic (for the Ego!).