Suicide Commandos - Trailer

In a dystopian world populated by corrupt public officials, corporate thugs, white-collar devils, and a mass media gone rabid there stands one Paintball team to undermine their supremacy.

"Whats with all these Suicide Commando logos popping up everywhere?"

"Its some type of viral media, it will dissipate. Always does".

"Don't you have anything on augment?"

"Nope, these guys are completely off the scanner."

"What about Google?"

"Haha, the only thing I got was a Paintball team from 2007".

"So our only hunch is that a bunch of middle-aged weekend warriors are chopping up our men and spray painting logos on their dead bodies?"

"Pretty much".

"We have to get the team back together"

"I quit a long time ago".

"Not to play Paintball, its getting real. A generation raised on technology harnessed by corporations and their political dogs. Kids are growing up today lost in augmented reality and hot pockets. We have the highest mortality rate from obesity in all of history. Every media channel is a poisoned river of misinformation. What we can only believe is what is evident in billboard subliminal messages and protesters dead in the streets from "heart failure". And what are their guards anymore? Inner city gangsters given a caseless light weapons system and told to light up anyone that isn't wearing a corporate logo. We can do it".

"We can, only question is who is playing Front".

"Police Reports say this sudden influx of vandalism and corporate warfare is the result of a TERROR campaign by EX-MILITARY SPECIAL OPERATIONS SOLDIERS. Percentof Corp has denied again that they hire PARAMILITARY FIRMS and has refused to comment on this latest influx of DISRUPTIONS".

Click.

"Remember when everything wasn't censored?"

"I kind of enjoy hearing the word f--k fifty times in one sentence".

"The white-collar woman rules the universe. Tom is in a coma for smoking a Cigarette outside".

"No s**t?"

"Don't say that" (points at media console in the corner).

The two guys on the couch glance at the door to their apartment and hear shuffling. Jaws drop as it continues along with a few whispers. The door busts open and blue bolts are ripping through the couch into the thighs of the two men. Two fully-armored figures wrap the guys in a tape that hardens rock solid and sticks like tar. Screaming their gagged and pulled outside into a waiting van.

"The purging continues".

Outside a complex on the top floor of another building young men covered in tattoos with ape-like body language gaggle around in body armor wearing big pants holding assault rifles with one arm, rifle slings dragging the floor. We enter their conversation.

"Then I seen this one mamma-jamma and BOOM!! HIS HEAD WAS GONE!!! OH SHOOT! BOOM! Punks get what they deserve!"

"You bad man, you bad!"

"Hey, looks like one of them suicide commando punks over there! Get over here white boy!"

The hooded figure walks in perfect military fashion, like a wind-up toy soldier.

"You're white, too", he whispers.

"Like this little punk up!"

A bolt strikes the second-baddest man of the group in the voice box. The second one goes wild eyed then sprays from the hip at the hooded toy soldier who drops to the ground.

"Punk! You 'bout to get a nice big boy lickin!"

Thunk.

The baddest one drops to the ground and the hooded soldier roadie runs over to the fallen weapon and checks the slide of the top. 'Half-clip', and switches the weapon to semi-automatic.

Another figure in a hood comes up behind him and spray paints a razor blade and ski mask logo on the dead thugs.

"Show time".

Author's Note

I'd working on my style and realizing I don't have to try to be Hemingway to write.