Alfred Jutsum
Jul 21, 2017 · 8 min read
Action figure version of the title character.

DOCTOR NAPALM: a rough look at things to come!

This is an excerpt from an ongoing project I’ve been working on for about a year and a half (at least it’s script form). I’m looking to breath life into an original, super hero themed, world, and this is the first gasp. The story revolves around a 25 year old male protagonist, Benjamin Walls, a jr newsman turned super hero, Doctor Napalm. I’m always interested in feedback, but please remember that this is part of a larger work. I did have to change the script formatting for this (Medium doesn’t have a way to format in the traditional scripts style, as far as I can work out), so if you’re confused by anything formatting wise (or script wise for that mater) give a shout.

This is the first major combat scene, coming about 10 minutes into the film. We’re introduced to some major players, some minor threats, and a few running gags. Enjoy!

A WOMAN, runs down the sidewalk of Trinity City. It is late, and the streets are empty, save for the three men chasing her, each holding a glowing object; a burst of fire gives off a soft fwump high above.

The woman, traditionally pretty, with sleek black hair, trips and falls next to a car. As she props herself up on the car, as the three men circle around her.

All three are wheezing, each wearing the logo of the Hammer street gang, a red claw hammer inside an upside down triangle, emblazoned over the chests of their silver, jersey like shirts. The glowing objects are large, claw hammer looking weapon. The LEAD HAMMER, a bulky looking man, gabs his weapon.

Lead Hammer: You picked a bad night to run lady. We were just gonna take what you have in that tacky bag, but now, I’m thinking I’ve earned a little fun.

The Lead Hammer raises his weapon, slamming it into the car. With a loud pop, a burst of blue light erupts from the hammer head, and pushes the car back several feet, caving in its back panel.

WOMAN: Please, please I’ll give you everything I have, just please don’t touch me.

LEAD HAMMER: Oh, I have a lot of very specific touching in mind.

NAPALM (O.S.): Do you even hear yourself. Who talks like that?

There is another fwump, and a shower of sparks falls down on the group. The Hammers look up confused.

DOCTOR NAPALM lands between the woman and the Hammers with a thud. His costume is very home made: A worn leather jacket with rolled up sleeves and an open front, which reveals a green t-shirt adorned with three arcing fire balls, set in a large white patch across the chest; the center flame is green, the other two, red. From under the rolled up sleeves of the jacket, a thin but protective long sleeve shirt is tucked into two green gloves, which have rubber over the knuckles to help protect them. Black jeans, green converse, and two masks, one a black mask over his eyes and nose, the other, a green handkerchief to cover his mouth and chin, complete the package. The whole costume looks a little worse for wear, no more so than on the back of his jacket, where a torn and frayed sheet of white fabric is pinned in place; on it are a interlocking D and N, cut to look like flames. The stitching is poor at best, and it looks to have been patched several times.

Napalm points at the car in slightly mock shock, though there are the touches of real anger in his voice.

NAPALM (CONT’D): And what the hell man! That’s someone’s car! They need that to get to work in a few hours, and you just busted their rear axle! I definitely smell gas too, just a shitty move man.

The Lead Hammer angrily cuts of Napalm.

LEAD HAMMER: You’re kidding right!? Who the hell are you, and why are you messing in our biz?
(mocking)
What, did Captain Courageous have the night off.

Napalm sighs, shaking his head.

NAPALM: I don’t know which is worse, that the Hammers are still recruiting frat boys, or that their standards have been lowered… somehow.

The three Hammers look between themselves each taken off guard by Napalm’s casual nature. They quickly square up, trying to look intimidating, it doesn’t work.

NAPALM (CONT’D): For the record, Captain Courageous is the Presidential Personal Guard, so I’m pretty sure he’s wherever she is. Don’t worry though, lots of 8th graders fail social studies. Just remember, life is long; there’s always time for self improvement.

The Lead Hammer grunts with irritation, brandishing his weapon again, signalling for his fellows to draw theirs as well.

LEAD HAMMER: Last warning, get your tacky ass out of here.

Napalm pauses briefly, looking between the woman and the Hammer bros.

NAPALM: See, now I’m curious; did you just learn the word tacky? You seem to really like using it; I’m tacky, her bag is tacky. I mean, sure, I made my costume myself, but her bag looks expensive; was it expensive?

The woman looks uncertain how to respond.

WOMAN: Umm, yeah, yeah I guess.

NAPALM: See, you don’t just call a woman’s bag tacky! I don’t know crap about fashion, but even I know that.

LEAD HAMMER: That’s it, you need a lesson in respect! Show this asshole what the new Hammers can do!

Napalm chuckles as the two of the bros spread out around him, their hammers buzzing as they power up.

NAPALM: Hmm final answer, I’m gonna say it’s about the same as the old Hammers. That’s good for you though, a low bar means an easy entrance.

The two Hammers rush Napalm with their weapons held high.

NAPALM (mocking): Round 1! Fight!

The first Hammer swings, only to have the weapon connect with bright green flames, that have erupted from the back of Napalm’s hand; he holds it up like a shield, holding back the assault. Brushing aside the attack, Napalm swings at the Hammer’s jaw with a green flamed hay-maker; the bro tumbles backwards.

The second Hammer grabs Napalm around his shoulders from behind, raising his weapon to bash Napalm’s head in. In the blink of an eye, the green flames have moved to Napalm’s chest and shoulders, expanding and break the grip of the second bro. Napalm flexes his shoulders with a grunt, causing the flames rear up, throwing the Hammer backwards. He hits the wall of a store with a thud, and crumples to the ground. Napalm turns to look at him, giving a single fist pump.

NAPALM: Oh oh! What do I win! Word to the wise, next time, don’t grab a guy who can make force fields. What do they teach you in these after school gangs!?

The first Hammer stands behind Napalm, raising his weapon, which crackles again. Napalm hears this, and rolls his eyes.

NAPALM (sarcastic): Round two, fight?

Napalm creates a fire ball the size of a softball, and throws it at the man’s head, striking his shoulder, and knocking the bro backwards a step. Napalm lets off a burst of red fire behind himself, propelling him rapidly into the same Hammer bro, who is sent crashing backwards some ten feet.

NAPALM (CONT’D: Yep, nothing to see here folks, just the same old same old.

The Lead Hammer, enraged, charges at Napalm from the latter’s blind spot, picking up his fallen comrades weapon, duel wielding them in a massive, pincer like swing. The Woman screams, catching Napalm’s attention. He’s able to conjure a shield just in time, but it’s half formed nature doesn’t hold back the whole attack.

Napalm has the wind knocked out of him for a moment, holding off the Lead Hammer’s continued attack, but doing so while losing ground. The Lead Hammer’s face glows, both with delight, and the light of his weapons, as they crash through Napalm’s shield.

Thinking fast, Napalm fires a shot of red flame into the Hammer’s stomach, propelling the assailant backwards slightly. Napalm, wheezing, still has laughter in his voice.

NAPALM: You know what an acetylene torch is?

Napalm holds out his hand, a red flame bursting forth, then minimizing into a focused flame, like a welding torch. As the Hammer approaches again, Napalm counters, shielding against the strike, then effortlessly slicing through one of the Hammer’s weapon, with his torch like hand. The Lead Hammer just stares at the remaining stump of his weapon.

NAPALM: It’s kinda like that. Not sure if it makes up for the jail time and the humiliation, but at least you learned something tonight.

While the Lead Hammer is distracted, Napalm flicks his wrist, throwing a disk of flame at his chest, hitting him in the elbow with a pop. The Lead Hammer bro drops his remaining weapon as he grabs his new wound.

Napalm, back in command, spins another disk of red fire around his fingers. The Lead Hammer quickly recovers, grabbing the woman and holding her as a shield.

LEAD HAMMER: That’s enough! What now smart guy? You gonna burn this lovely piece of work just to get to me?

WOMAN: He doesn’t burn them genius.

LEAD HAMMER: Oh really! And how would you know!

The woman’s face breaks into a large smile, as her head begins to twist around her neck, until she is face to face with the Lead Hammer, who freaks out. He pushes the woman away and begins to back down the street, tripping over his own feet.

Lead Hammer (CONT’D): What the hell is this!?

Napalm slows his approach, the fire in his hands going out. He lets out a deep sigh as he drops his hands to his sides in exasperation.

NAPALM: Seriously! I thought this was a real, you know, hero moment. What are you doing?!

LEAD HAMMER: What the hell is going on?

The woman begins to grow taller and more muscular. Raising a fist, she drives it into a street light at her side, denting it bad enough, so it begins to lilt.

WOMAN: I believe they call it sweet sweet payback honey. You gonna pick on ladies anymore?
(beat)
The pee in your pants says no, but I like to be thorough about this kinda thing.

The Lead Hammer crumples to the ground, rolling up into the fetal position. The Woman’s hand grows and wraps around him. Looking around, she smiles and, her legs lengthening, uses the Lead Hammer’s belt to tie him to the street lamp.

Turning, she begins to shrink back down, her skin becoming a pinkish grey, and her hair gaining pink highlights and star shaped white patches; She is SHIFTY the alien. Napalm secures the other two Hammers, rolling his eyes as he looks up at Shifty.

NAPALM: Really, this is what we’re doing now Shifty? I was busy!

Shifty blows a raspberry, waving a hand at Napalm, her speech becoming more and more sarcastic.

SHIFTY: No you weren’t. Besides, this is the only way to get in contact with you now. Maybe check your phone once a week or something. You can have your usual night of flying around and feeling sorry for yourself, while also knowing the loving tender, if not slightly annoyed, messages of support from your friends; it’s a real win win!

NAPALM: I’m not some pity pile in a costume.

Shifty slowly walks to Napalm, putting a hand gently on his shoulder, and speaking in a motherly tone

SHIFTY: Oh sweety, my dear Benji, of course you are.

NAPALM: Dude! No civilian names out in the open!

SHIFTY: Oh their out cold. Nice work by the way, at least you’re not rusty. How’s the rocket sled coming along?

NAPALM: It’s… coming… And another thing! What’s with letting me take all three?! We could have had this tied up in two minutes flat!

SHIFTY: You put on a very good show old boy.

Napalm falls back into exasperation, Shifty plunges on.

SHIFTY: So, I was thinking, we should go get a coffee! There’s a twenty four hour diner around here! We’ll chat, trade some cape stories, I’ll give you some sagely wisdom, it’ll be great.

NAPALM (annoyed): This is happening regardless of if I want it to or not, right?.

SHIFTY: Perceptive as always Mattress Melter.

Napalm (indignant): It was one time!

)
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