Getaway: Highland

A Story by Abishai100

A 'hip' fanfiction/adaptation of Donaldson's 1994 remake of the jarring/graphic '72 crime-roadways portrait of American marks.

A 'bright' adaptation of the hip 1994 remake of the 1972 Peckinpah crime-psyche roadways classic The Getaway (Roger Donaldson), a very graphic film for fanfiction-writing/imagery, but I think this is the last one I'll treat for this particular story/theme/film. Hope you like it (and thanks for reading!),

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AMLAN: We're heading to Highland (Colorado) to enter Baron Ion's estate.

EZZY: Are you certain we're trained for this world of pizzazz/vanities?

AMLAN: You get him drunk and I'll swap his blood-diamonds with fakes.

EZZY: Where'd you get this 'image' you're all 'style' knowledgeable now?
AMLAN: Cartoons; I'm weary of life; we're doing this vigilante-chess, Ezzy.

EZZY: As long as it's (all) good for social media, husband.

AMLAN: Don't fear; we'll adapt the deed into a cartoon-comic later.

EZZY: This is some Highland insurance-examination for the Ion-company.

AMLAN: Excellence; street-commentary shall surface for his styled evil(s).

BARON ION: So, these two musketeers claim they're to offer me some cyber-media art-sketch of value for gem-exchanges and a joint social-media insurance commentary for some North American audiences, and I wonder if this is all some merchant class entertainment-theme for public theater (ha).

ASSOCIATE: Let's be wary, Ion; let's send our assassin Fred to test their mettle; if they pass the examination, we'll know they're not 'cowboys' from the circus; meanwhile, we can 'hype' some of your pieces online (insurance-IQ) before the two merchants-for-commentary get here (ok).

Amlan/Ezzy packed their bags and left-behind their airline jobs and became vigilantes-with-a-cause and sailed to Highland with theater-merchant toy prop water-guns, to burn a hole into Ion's safe inside his estate and swap his blood-diamonds for fakes after getting him too inebriated for exchange and would leave a note about insurance-commentary reading, "Perhaps there's a street-exposure for this (prepaid/insured) 'Interpol-relation' game with you, bad-baron, in-time for you to determine if the treasures still left in your safe...are toys (hmm)."

Our two hero-lovebirds (Amlan/Ezzy) were Ivy-grads and fans of Colorado sports (collegiate/pro) and wished to seek this 'match' for Ion-diamond examination for (Interpol-relation?) eyes, and they hoped (now) this misadventure would be spun into a social-media consumerism-culture friendly 'yarn' about darkness-materialized (for American readings).

EZZY: I borrowed this gold-auto for the journey, husband.

AMLAN: Without asking me for advice?

EZZY: If we're to be co-heroes, you've got to trust in my brain, Amlan.

AMLAN: I'm sorry (good for social media, ok).

When they got to Highland and set-up shop in the Courtyard (hotel), they were intercepted by Ion's minion of hell (Fred) who tried to shoot Amlan in the foot but instead was shot by Ezzy in his foot, with the very-same acid-gun weapon Amlan assembled for the Ion-estate operation. Fred crawled to a nearby vet-center for treatment(s).

FRED: Highland is gloom; I better come-out with a furious plan for lore.

Fred bloody-murdered the vet who treated him and kidnapped the poor man's wife (Shelbye) and made her is 'official' ally in this (private) quest to avenge himself, and this was not good for social media photo-graphics.

FRED: You're my new terrorist of capitalism chess, little Shelbye (ha).

SHELBYE: You're so cool...we'll make a Selfie-post about dark comedy.

FRED: Alright!

You see, Shelbye thought she'd become an online saree-fashion saleswoman and was simply dissatisfied with her current life as a vet-office assistant to her poor/murdered husband, and now she dreamed of a more capitalism-network 'fantasy' for fortune-booty (hmm).

ION: You made it!

AMLAN: We had to execute Fred and his faerie-angel (Shelbye).

EZZY: What a fine pair you sent to test our mettle, Ion.

AMLAN: Here I thought Ezzy would get you drunk as a pal for us.

ION: My intentions are noble; please enter with your compact; forgive!

AMLAN: Alright; where's your safe-room (you owe me a 'personal' tour).

ION: Cool.

The deed was done. Amlan/Ezzy made-off from that estate with $20M blood-diamonds/jewelry and replaced them with a handful of fakes after making the acid-gun box-burn while Ion was unconscious, following Ezzy's absinthe-seduction theater inside the evil residence. Insurance-commentary would surface about modern investors/estates exploiting blood-diamond smuggling and piracy and cast Amlan/Ezzy as 'thoughtful' patriots in this capitalism-architecture 'arena' of cinematic materialism (for antiterrorism!).

AMLAN: I regret doubting you, Ezzy.

EZZY: You've made amends with this tasty Indian (luchi) bread platter.

AMLAN: We're heroes-for-life...and we'll forget about Fred/Shelbye.

EZZY: Sounds pretty, good, tasty.

Amlan/Ezzy left-behind that cyber-media art-sketch for Baron Ion after their heroics/theater and veiled themselves as 'merchant-class messengers' and persuaded the bad-baron to simply forget them and brush the insurance-dilemma under-the-rug (or try to at least!). Amlan bought a replica-sketch for Ezzy, assuring her that the 'doll-face(s)' of commercial vanities would never be 'owned' by the mod-Homeland (Highland, etc.) 'pirates' of disaster (for the Ego).