So I just saw Rambo 4 with my brother, since he showed me the first three. It was pretty good, I reccomend it for those who've followed the once-triology. But I had some issues with the movie, it wasn't quite creative enough for me, and the ending just didn't do anything for me. That's all I'm saying for those of you who might be fans, I don't want to ruin it.
But anyway. I played with the ending in my own way, ending it earlier than it was ended. I think it would have been more dramatic, more meaningful if it ended like this. True, I don't entirely believe John Rambo- of all people- would depart from a brutal beatdown, but the way I set it up, I do believe it works out just fine. I think somewhere along the line I dropped the 'I hate everything I write' phase, as I believe this is pretty decent. :3
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How Rambo Should Have Ended;;
There was blood everywhere. He was to blame. Any normal person would have turned away, disgust marred on their face. But no, not him. He had been turned into this killing monster, this abomination. He had fianlly come to terms with himself- he was trained to be a murdering machine and that's all he ever would be.
John Rambo finally accepted the truth. As Cremms had said, he had to live with what he was. It was inevitable, so why not accept the cold truth?
A shot of a gun, a reaction only a millisecond too slow. He had been shot. A grimace of pain, a clencing of the jaw-- there, now he was getting up. Rambo didn't realize it at the time, but his ammo was running short. More shots were fired as he took his place behind the over-sized machine gun mounted on the back of a car.
Aim. Shoot. Bullseye. Another dozen bodies to the ground, another group of men to add to the casualties. He hoped they burned in hell for the things they did to their own people. This is what happened when a genocide occurred, and he was pushed enough. Maybe it was just the soldier being drawn out in him, no one was to know.
Another bullet shot off, and the gun refused to give. "s**t," Rambo muttered under his breath, frantically searching for extra ammo. Soon he found it, but not quite soon enough. During the search, he had been shot in the arm at least twice.
John showed no recognition of the pain, instead loading the gun. He stole more lives until that again emptied. This time, he had no luck finding ammo. It was all gone and with three bullets in him, it would be difficult to arch. Of course it could be done though. Rambo pulled out his bow and arrows. Knock. Aim. Release. A perfect shot, even with the bullets embedded in his shoulder and arm.
To get a better view of the battleground, he had to move from the protection behind the gun. With ease, he jumped from thecar, and rushed behind a nearby tree. He took ut person after person with his magnificent training. Not before long, his share of arrows ran out. His luck was slowly running out too, all he had left was that sword.
Despite that, Rambo ran into the fight, slashing the weaponry this way and that. Many fell, all assumed dead. But one, oh just one, refused to die that way. The fallen soldiers picked up a rock, throwing it with great force towards Rambo's head. It was a direct hit, and before John could realize what was going on, the once-fallen soldier was jumping on him, rock in hand. The soldier began bashing his head with it, causing Rambo to fal, bleeding tremendously from the wound. He was no doctor, but he could tell this was it for him. What a fitting death, dying in action. He was a true military man, all these years later.
The last thing going through his head was the past, the flashbacks that once haunted him now returning. This time, they didn't supply the usual nightmare feeling. Rambo couldn't hear Sarah screaming 'John' at him, couldn't hear the gunshots surrounding him, or anything else for that matter. The things he heard were within his own mind, his own memories. Cremm's voice floated into his head, his excellent advice, to live with himself, the fact that he was a killing machine and forever would be. With those last thoughts, all life passed from John. At least he had been granted what he considered a noble death, along with the chance to die for something.
As John Rambo once said, "Live for nothing, or die for something."
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