| A real human bean | |
|---|---|
| Season | 3 |
| Season Episode | 2 |
| Air date | Some day… |
| Written by | Cheesypickles564 |
| Episode guide | |
| Previous Bowser vs Satan |
Next Asura vs. Kratos |
The Driver vs Travis Bickle is a What-If? Death Battle written by Cheesypickles564 featuring The Driver from the movie Drive and Travis Bickle from the movie Taxi Driver.
Description[]
Drive vs Taxi Driver. The world is a cruel one. Nobody ever wonders what it’s like to be in the slums, having to run low-dignity jobs just to scrape by. However, these two managed to rise above the crowd and become heroes in secret. Will this be the Driver’s last run, or will Travis run out of gas?
Interlude[]
Puppy: People are like cars—fickle, diverse, and they have a limit. But what happens when you run a person past that limit?
Kitty: I’ll tell you what! They become flashy-ass gunslinging psychos, and I’m all for that!
Puppy: The Driver, Drive’s mysterious getaway driver.
Kitty: And Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver’s crazed hero-of-the-slums. He’s Puppy and I’m Kitty!
Puppy: And it’s our job to analyze their weapons, armor and skills to find out who would win a Death Battle.
“DEATH BATTLE is an In-and-Out Job for The Driver!”[]
(Cue: Nightcall - Kavinsky)
Puppy: The heist—while it’s normally frowned upon, stealing requires a lot of precision.
Kitty: You need a plan, a crew, a way to get in, and most importantly—a way out. There’s a hundred-thousand streets in the cities, and you need a time and a place.
Puppy: Such is the art of the getaway driver—arguably the most important job in a good heist.
Kitty: ‘Course that means you can’t be slacking when you’re picking a driver, and there’s no better choice than L.A’s silent pretty boy, The Driver! Sheesh, you know he’s good when his job’s literally his name…
Puppy: Getaway driving isn’t his full life though…hell, it isn’t even his public life either! This enigma of a man was literally raised in an auto shop and makes most of his living fixing cars and then crashing them for movies. Things were going well for him, and he even had friends in mobsters named Bernie and Izzy.
Kitty: Yeah, who’d suspect the guy who wears fingerless gloves, doesn’t talk, hands out with gangsters and has a fuckin’ scorpion jacket to be up to anything? It’s like Clark Kent, ‘cept instead of using glasses as a disguise, he’s just being super antisocial…
Puppy: Driver would live normally with his secret life in the moonlight, but everything would be flipped around when him and his father-figure Shannon’s auto shop was visited by a single mom named Irene Gabriel. Things were rough for little Irene—she was raising a boy on her own, she had a terrible job, and her husband, Standard Gabriel, was in prison.
Kitty: Standard Gabriel…? Where’s the deluxe version…? Being the stud that he is the Driver would take Irene and her son Benicio back to their apartment—and from that point on, he began to ease into that little family circle.
Puppy: But the Driver didn’t know what was about to hit him, because the moment Standard returned from prison and learned of Driver’s secret job, he needed his help to repay some crooks he was in trouble with.
Kitty: Standard owed a LOT to his old chums—so his plan? Robbing a thrift shop with the Driver and a girl picked from the guy payin’ him, Blanche.
Puppy: It was an in-and-out job, an easy way to get money—
Kitty: But BOOM! Standard and Blanche were both shot dead and the Driver was the only one of the three left alive, meaning the guys who Standard owed would be after Irene and her kid…and guess who those angry guys were? Bernie and Izzy! This is why you pay attention to what we say earlier, kids!
Puppy: And if the money didn’t stop with Standard’s family, it would stop with the Driver. If the money didn’t stop with him, then it’d stop with Driver’s boss Shannon—this was a chain of violence that was just sprung, and the Driver was having none of that.
Kitty: And this completely threw him off the rocker! All that silence—all let out in his rampage to save Irene from violence!
Popup: He went from a criminal to a hero—a real human bean, and a real hero. Goddamn I love that soundtrack
Puppy: He also had just the right tools to take down the operation—given that he’s a getaway driver, of course he’d have a car, but his ride is nothing short of spectacular.
Kitty: His sweet wheels come in the form of a 1973 Chevy Malibu! It’s a sick ride, being able to reach speeds of 103 miles per hour—and ‘cause the Driver does stunts for half-of-his-living, you already know he can pull somethin’ off with this baby.
Puppy: But even if his car gets marred, he’s practically capable of driving any wheel you put him behind, regardless of size, speed or model.
Kitty: ‘Course it’s not just cars that’re his game. When he wants to get down and dirty, he’s got plenty of options!
Puppy: Please rephrase that…the Driver doesn’t carry a gun, but what he does carry is just as dangerous in his hands. It’s a simple hammer—but he’s capable of swinging it with enough strength to break a man’s hand and dent his skull as well.
Kitty: His years of experience with the wheel mean he’s good with his hands, too! He doesn’t know karate, but he can punch your face in—hell, that’s exactly what he did on a fuckin’ elevator!
Puppy: …right in front of Irene, who had no idea that the man he was attacking was a hitman—and she decided to break all of Driver’s hopes for a relationship. This was a long time coming, though, because ever since the Driver shed his shell and began to violently help Irene out of her husband’s debt, he’d changed.
Kitty: Hey, that’s still a pretty good breakup! Compared to getting taken to a campy restaurant, yelled at for a solid five minutes and then left with the check, I think elevator death and teary eyes go down a lot easier.
Puppy: I’d take the dinner over that…but now with nothing to lose, the Driver went full-on psycho on his former mobster pals—first, he stalked Izzy at his restaurant, rammed him into the ocean with his car and then drowned what was left of him.
Kitty: Sheesh…now I’ve got another plan if they don’t take the elevator breakup lightly…’course that left just Bernie, and he struck a deal with the Driver—if he gave up the money from Standard’s heist, Irene would be left alone.
Popup: This didn’t mean the Driver would be safe, though. He’d have to spend his whole life looking over his shoulder in fear—pretty bad deal yeah.
Puppy: The Driver would accept this offer and finally face off against the one behind it all…in a Chinese restaurant.
Kitty: Great idea, Driver…drown him in duck sauce! …or get taken out back and get stabbed to near death…that works.
Puppy: Bernie expected the Driver to double-cross and stabbed him in the gut, but the Driver was prepared for the same—taking the knife out and dealing the same wounds on Bernie, but actually fatal this time.
Kitty: Ignoring his wounds, the Driver would drive into the sunset—Irene was finally safe, and everything was right. A good ending…
Author’s Note: Or was it? The movie itself is notorious for having such a vague ending—some depict it as the Driver dying alongside Bernie, while others depict it as him being fine. Personally, I buy it as him surviving.
Puppy: Speculation’s the key here, and speculation can also help you see it as a wild feat the Driver pulled off. He was capable of being stabbed in the stomach and still had enough strength to get into his car!
Kitty: That’s not the only beating he can take, though—he’s been pushed into walls, shot at, slapped and not to mention that part of his living is made being in car crashes! If you ever wanna be in a Death Battle, multiple jobs pay off!
Puppy: But don’t let his quiet stature fool you—he’s a monster in battle! The Driver can break bones, disarm and kill two men, hold down Izzy hard enough to drown him and nearly behead Bernie with a switchblade!
Kitty: Even if he isn’t goin’ all Fast and Furious 24/7, he’s still fast on his feet. He can dodge bullets, outpace two armed men and react after being stabbed. He’s outgunned at almost every step, and still keeps pace!
Puppy: Outgunned, injured—it doesn’t matter to the Driver. He’s a good person at heart despite his line of work, and because he has nothing to lose—he’ll fight for those who do.
Kitty: Sigh…he’s literally me…
The Driver: “Can I talk to you? I won't keep you long. I have to go somewhere and I don't think I can come back. But I just wanted you to know getting to be around you and Benicio was the best thing that ever happened to me.“
“Travis Bickle Cleans up DEATH BATTLE’s Filth!”[]
(Cue: Theme of Taxi Driver - David Herrmann)
DISCLAIMER: This analysis will have some mentions of heavy topics like sex work and suicide.
Kitty: 1970s New York City: it’s a messy haven for bad people, bad actions and them good, good—er, bad, bad drugs.
Puppy: All the city’s animals come out at night—the whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Any sane individual left wished that someday a rain would come and wash the scum off the streets.
Kitty: ‘Course ever downpour needs a cloud to start it off, and New York’s cloud was none other than quiet veteran, Travis Bickle! …you sure this guy’s gonna clean up the streets? He looks harmless…File:Harmlesslilfella.webpPuppy: But that’s where you’d be wrong. Travis is absolutely messed up, having served in Vietnam and being sent back with multiple strains on his mind—depression, loneliness, existential crises, and even chronic insomnia. Hell, almost all of his time was spent writing his thoughts down in his plethora of notebooks!
Kitty: And ‘cause he couldn’t sleep at all, Bickle needed somethin’ to do with his time. His solution, he’d drive taxis across New York…it’s like JAY-Z…yeah he’s out that Brooklyn, yeah he’s down in Tribeca…
Puppy: Ahem…it was on his nightly street patrol that Travis would gain his disdain for the scum of the city, with almost all of his passengers being pimps and druggies. He’d even end up fantasizing about cleansing the city in the most violent ways imaginable.
Kitty: C’mon, New York’s always been like that anyways…those concrete jungles where dreams are made of…
Puppy: Travis wasn’t entirely different from the rest of the city, though—like everyone else did, he had a hero; an idol in the form of Charles Palantine, a presidential candidate with the same goals for the city as Travis.
Popup: Never meet your heroes—keep this in mind.
Kitty: And not only did Travis respect the man, he was also deeply in love with Palantine’s assistant, Betsy; Betsy was everything he ever wanted, pretty, smart, and she actually noticed him which wasn’t that hard because he was stalking her bbbut…
Puppy: Alongside his nighttime-driver job, Travis would pursue a relationship with Betsy, which started off super well…
Kitty: Until he took poor Betsy to his favorite movie…er, porno…yeah, that’s a horrible date idea.
Puppy: This breakup smooshed together with Bickle’s lack of sleep and mental problems finally pushed him to bring his heroic fantasies to life—too much sitting had ruined his body, too much abuse had gone on for too long.
Kitty: From then on it’d be 50 pushups each morning, 50 pullups. There would be no more pills, no more bad food, no more destroyers of his body—From then on would be total organization. Every muscle must be tight…but who cares ‘bout his workout, ‘cause he also bought a bunch of guns to clean up the streets!
Puppy: Travis himself is a walking arsenal, simply put. Alongside his impressive physical strength and the knife strapped to his leg, his entire body is plastered with firearms—he has a 44 Magnum inside his coat, and that’s a gun used for killing elephants!
Kitty: It’s a beaut. But when the Magnum’s a little too big for practical purposes, he’s got his 38 Snubnose. Small, easy to hide but can get the job done! God, we’d make great salesmen…
Puppy: And while Travis is messed-up, he isn’t stupid. Not only is he able to conceal all these weapons, but he could also create a spring-loaded machine to give him his extra automatic when needed, allowing him to get the drop on any poor soul. He’d even practice his quick draw in the mirror, just to be prepared down to the wire.
Kitty: You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?
Kitty: With his gear ready, Travis had one last thing to do before going on his rampage: cut his hair. And damn, this is why people have to learn how to cut hair!
Puppy: With his campy cut and pocketful of guns, Travis had his eyes set on saving 12-year-old prostitute Iris Steensma from the clutches of her absolutely disgusting pimp, Sport. He payed Sport money—
Kitty: Travis, don’t—!
Puppy: But he wasn’t interested in sex.
Kitty: Phew! Travis only borrowed her time to persuade her to run away and go back to her family, but she disagreed…actually liking that life…ew…
Puppy: So Travis began to bond with Iris, taking her to lunch and trying to convince her to run away, and the moment she grew sick of her life as a ‘pro’—
Kitty: BANG! Travis popped off on the entire establishment! He shot Sport in the stomach, finished him off with a shot to the head; blasted the bouncer’s hand off with one shot, stabbed Iris’ current client to death and then turned the gun on himself—lucky for him, though, he was out of ammo.
Puppy: Travis fell into a coma, and he left the scene behind as a hero—
Kitty: But damn, I have not seen that much blood since I ate at a Sheetz…Travis survived it all, though, and still had enough strength to return to taxi driving!
Puppy: To elaborate, Travis survived being shot in the neck, stabbed, shot in the chest and wrestled to the ground, and he still survived nearly unscathed!
Kitty: Bickle’s also great with his guns, too! Not only did he master them in his time at Vietnam, he’s capable of using their full potential—with his Magnum being able to stop cars and his Snub-Nose being able to shoot down practically anything that moves!
Puppy: He could kill a robber with one shot, sever a man’s entire hand with one knife swing and do his grueling workout every morning of every day.
Kitty: That’s a lot, huh? Well, it was definitely enough to send Iris back to his family, and guess what—Betsy came back to him! He got the girl!
Puppy: After these heroic deeds, Travis became a hero to the city. He was God’s lonely man—and he did his job well.
Travis Bickle: “The days go on and on... they don't end. All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention, I believe that one should become a person like other people.“
Intermission[]
Puppy: Alright, the combatants are set, and we've run the data through all possibilities. Feel free to vote for who you believe will win in the poll: https://strawpoll.com/NoZrzqwLpZ3
Kitty: But now! IT'S TIME FOR A DEATH BATTLLLLLLLLLLE!!!!
Pre-Fight[]
(Cue: Runaway - Kanye West)
“June 2nd, 2024…”
A figure bound to a car seat and enveloped in shadow penned inside a composition notebook. “…rainy night. This world has been plagued by filth…but tonight I’m standing against it—nothing has happened yet…but there is a change…”
The man finished those last words and leaned forward, his face leaving the shadows and becoming seen. He smiled with his yellow teeth and brushed his self-shaven mohawk with his hand. This was Travis Bickle, and his interest was now set on a speedy car drifting into a parking spot beside a bank.
Click. Click.
Doors opened on both sides—three shady men came pouring out of the car. They each wore jumpsuits and masks that distinguished them from one another—a mustachioed mask, a shark-like mask and a blue-and-yellow smiley face.
Step. Step. Step.
As quickly as the car had pulled into the spot, the three criminals rushed towards the bank. The rain pouring on Travis’ taxi blurred his view from the windshield, and the moment he could see again—the criminals had entered the bank.
Meanwhile, in the same car that once held the robbers, the driver of the car sat nonchalantly, his chin leaning against his fist. He made no sound; he only waited for the criminals to finish their heist. This was The Driver.
Bang. Bang.
Light loomed out of the bank’s windows—gunshots were heard; footsteps followed. The doors opened.
Step. Step. Step.
All three criminals left the establishment with bags slung over their shoulders. They ran out into the wet streets towards their getaway driver.
Bang.
(Pause music)
A shot whizzed from across the road, striking the criminal with the mustachioed mask in the back of the head. Blood and brain matter splattered across the sidewalk and the robber fell dead on the spot.
BANG. BANG.
Two more shots came from Bickle’s direction—both of them struck the shark-faced burglar: one in the back, one in the heart. He fell dead.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The Driver’s eyes widened as he watched the smiley-faced criminal simply explode, shooting viscera everywhere in a bloody scene.
The toothpick in the Driver’s mouth fell in his shock—his gloved hands grasped the wheel and he stomped on the gas, instantly choosing to flee the scene.
Bickle slips his gun back into the holster—his arms reach the steering wheel and he set his taxi off in pursuit of the escaping Driver.
(Cue: Runaway - Kanye West (0:37))
FIGHT![]
The Driver’s heavy breaths nearly matched the sound of his wheels speeding against the pavement. His eyes shifted over to his rear-view mirror—the taxi driver was following him.
“Take the scum—flush ‘em down the fucking toilet.” the approaching Travis monologues in his head. He sticks his Magnum out of the window and holds the steering wheel with his right hand.
BANG!
The shot whizzes towards the Driver’s car, missing the Driver himself but striking the left blinker and shattering it instantly.
The Driver’s eyes widen—his car was hit! His instinct was to swiftly turn the steering wheel and drift to the left, switching onto another lane. Travis follows, his sight on the Driver unaffected by the rain.
The taxi driver cracks his neck and sticks his head out of the window, messing with his driving skill but allowing him to get a better view. He fires more rounds at the escaping Driver—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
—who masterfully maneuvers around the shots, leaving them to collide against the pavement.
Travis groans as he furrows his brow and refocuses his attention on driving, allowing him to catch up to the Driver’s car.
Refusing to respond with words, the Driver simply speeds ahead, nearly running into a row of trash cans. Travis follows in suit—not realizing the Driver turning last-second, leaving the taxi driver to run into the trash cans. His Magnum flung out of his hand and landed conveniently in the Driver’s car…
With his pursuer distracted, the Driver bolts down the rainy roads, attempting to get away entirely. His radio is silent—he is silent.
Now a good distance away, the Driver looks in his rear-view—it was a taxi. A taxi following him.
Grabbing Travis’ lost gun, the Driver exits his car and points the stolen firearm at the approaching taxi…
BANG! BANG!
The taxi’s driver was already dead and unmoving, but the car’s momentum gave it enough push to reach the Driver’s stopped car—blood. Everywhere. His head had exploded.
But it wasn’t Travis Bickle.
Gasping at his own mistake, the Driver is barely missed by a few shots from behind him. There was Travis. The Driver was sure. He had taken the other way around.
Diving into his open car doors to avoid a round of fire from Travis’ backup automatic, the Driver scrambles to his seat—he stomps on the gas and presses forward, attempting to outmaneuver the angered taxi driver.
Travis takes pleasure in this hunt—the Driver couldn’t get away from his justice. He takes back off against the fleeing Driver, pursuing him through the surprisingly uncrowded streets.
The Driver’s heartbeat was the loudest sound to himself—his focus scrambled around the street, looking for a way out.
A split in the road. Right on the highway. Jackpot.
The Driver grabs the stolen Magnum once more and fires at Travis, the shot distracting him and allowing the Driver to turn left and outspeed Travis. The taxi driver quickly regains his composure and realizes the Driver had sped ahead once more—pressing forward, Travis takes the right side and aims his Snubnose at the Driver.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Shots dashed over the barrier separating the lanes, striking the Driver’s car and leaving dents across the coating.
“Hnghhh…” the Driver grunts—it was the closest thing to words that had come out of his mouth that night. He checks the magazine—three shots.
BANG!
One shot had missed Travis’ taxi entirely.
BANG!
The next struck the window. It blasted through, blowing a hole in Travis’ left hand.
BANG!
The final shot had hit the tire of Travis’ taxi—the unfortunate vehicle was thrown off-balance and sent drifting aimlessly off the highway.
SMASH!
The taxi collided with the side of a building—flames spewed in every direction.
The Driver quickly sped off the highway and into the city—stopping his car and stepping out. He slipped the stolen Magnum into his jacket pocket and looked over his car to analyze the wreckage of Travis’ car.
Slowly staggering out was Travis himself, seemingly unscathed. With a devilish smirk, the taxi driver rose his hand—he was armed.
Multiple shots struck the ground near the Driver’s feet. Quickly slipping the Magnum back into his hand, the Driver dove into the alleyway next to his parked car.
The Driver checked the magazine again—he forgot. No bullets left. He stuck his head out of the alley; Travis was sprinting towards him. On the other side of the alley was a giant crowd in the city’s square.
Idea.
Travis ran into the alley, whipping out his Snubnose—but to his surprise, the Driver was nowhere to be seen. Ahead of him was a crowd—a political rally of sorts. A rather loud rally, too.
“You piece of shit…!” Travis raises his voice, sprinting out of the ally and raising his gun in the air.
BANG!
Silence. The only sounds were the rain and the newly-begun cries of the crowd.
“I mean no harm!” Travis points his gun towards the crowd, contradicting his own statement. “Everyone shut up and separate!”
The crowd abided and everyone parted. Standing in the center was the previously silent Driver, who yelled at his pursuer. “How ‘bout this. You shut up or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat.”
Travis sneers and aims his gun towards the now-exposed Driver, who quickly reaches into his jacket pocket. His hand returns with the empty Magnum which he throws at Travis, hitting the taxi driver seconds before he could fire at the Driver.
“You talkin’ to me?” Travis taunts, dropping his weapon and sprinting forward, diving and tackling the Driver further into the crowd. With the Driver pinned against the ground, Travis pulls his fist back and forces it into the Driver’s face, pushing it against the pavement and causing some blood to shoot out of the Driver’s nose.
Void of any noise, the Driver simply fights the pain and reaches into his jacket pocket despite being ensnared by Travis. He grabs his hammer and slams it against Travis’ head, sending the taxi driver rolling against the pavement in pain.
Grasping his wounded head with his left hand, Travis quickly moves his other into his coat pocket, returning with his Snubnose and pointing it towards the Driver.
BANG!
The Driver ducks to avoid the shot, leaving it to strike one of the surrounding rallyists in the head, blasting it apart on the spot. The crowd shrieks, causing them all to take a few steps away.
“Shitshitshit…” Travis angrily mutters to himself, realizing his mistake. Taking advantage of this, the Driver lunges downwards and slams his hammer towards Travis—barely missing him as he rolls to the side. The hammer strikes the ground and drives a hole into the pavement.
Laying on his side, Travis quickly rises to his feet—while his opponent tries to pull the hammer from the ground to no avail. The moment the taxi driver regained his balance, he sprinted towards the Driver…
WHAP!
…and kicked him in the face, pushing him against the pavement once more. The blow had heavily injured the Driver, but his momentum allowed him to rip the hammer from the ground.
With his scorpion jacket still left unscathed, the Driver kicked his feet against the ground and leaped towards Travis, tackling him through the scared crowd and pinning him against a stone pillar.
Grunting with each movement, the Driver pulls his fist back and repeatedly smashes it against Travis’ face. The taxi driver’s head is sandwiched against the stone, causing blood to pour out of his mouth and nose.
With slit eyes, Travis strengthens his grip on his Snubnose, pulling it up to the Driver’s chest and pressing on the trigger.
BANG!
The Driver slumps to the ground, allowing Travis to escape his grasp and run away, accidentally dropping some bullets on the ground as he escaped. Travis runs through the city streets and leaves the Driver behind in the rallying crowd.
“Unghhh…” the Driver groans, staggering to his feet. Seemingly recovering instantly, the Driver sprints out of the crowd in pursuit of the taxi driver—picking Travis’ dropped Magnum and the bullets off the ground.
Finally finding a taxi in the rainy streets, Travis scrambles into the passenger seat. The cab driver, a bearded man, turns to Travis. “Where to—“
BANG!
The glass explodes in their faces—a bullet had struck the head of the cab driver. His skull was blown into pieces and brain matter was scattered everywhere inside of the car.
Noticing Travis scurry over the dead body and grab the wheel, the Driver realizes he had hit an innocent man once more. “Shit…! Shit!”
Travis wasn’t too experienced a driver, but he knew his way around a taxi. He slipped his foot onto the gas and managed to gain control of the vehicle from the passenger seat.
“Like a deer in the headlights—clueless, waiting for death…” Travis monologues in his head. He stomps on the gas, speeding towards the Driver, who simply points the Magnum at the already broken windshield.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The bullets whiz through the glass, striking the cab’s seats but missing Travis himself. The stolen cab presses towards the Driver, nearly colliding with the him—had it not been for the Driver’s quick dive to the left.
Pushing himself up from the ground, the Driver points the Magnum at the taxi. Bullets erupt from its long barrel, each one darting towards Travis’ cab.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
As the stolen taxi speeds further down the city streets and away from the Driver, its backside is hit by a barrage of bullets—each one strikes a part of the cab and blows it off with impressive force.
Noticing the cab had sped to the top of a slope, Travis releases his foot from the gas and his hand from the wheel; he fishes out his Snubnose and points it at the back of his taxi—more specifically, he points it at the Driver.
BANG!
The back windshield is destroyed instantly—the bullet darts towards the Driver, who takes cover beside a shoddy building. His grip tightens around the Magnum; he instantly turns the corner and fires more at the escaping car, his shot grazing the tire and damaging it…but not enough to pop it.
Travis retaliates with a few more shots from the Snubnose…
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
And three of them barely graze him as he dives behind another wall; however, one shot strikes his chest and push him to the ground, forcing him away from his hiding spot.
The Driver is left sprawled on the pavement in pain—Travis aims his gun at his immobilized opponent and readies a kill shot…
BOOM!
…but his stolen cab, which was moving on the momentum from the slope, had smashed into the side of a building. The car detonated instantly, spewing flames all across the pavement.
The Driver staggers to his feet—this is the second car crash Travis had been in over the course of the fight, there’s no way he survived…right?
Travis climbs through the flames and over the bloody corpse of the cab’s previous driver—he steps out of the wreckage with his hand still holding the Snubnose.
BANG!
One shot whizzes towards the injured Driver, who throws himself forward to dodge. One hand grips his bleeding chest while the others holds his stolen Magnum, which he points back at Travis and fires.
BANG!
So begins a shootout between the two injured drivers—bullets fly and miss; some get close, grazing one’s shoulder or neck. Blood is spilled nevertheless, and both combatants are losing their focus in their attempts to hit their assailants.
Click.
The Driver’s stolen Magnum is jammed. Without a sound, he tosses the weapon back at its previous holder—and miraculously, it strikes the streetlight above Travis, hitting it with enough force to cause it to flicker.
Travis’ vision is blurred—he loses sight on the Driver.
Flick!
The streetlight shut off entirely, but the flaming taxi behind Travis have enough light for him to see one thing; the Driver is no longer standing where he was.
The Magnum falls from the streetlight and into Travis’ hands—his eyes dart around the area to catch a glimpse of the Driver, who was in prime position to pounce.
(Cue: NEW MAGIC WAND - Tyler, the Creator)
The injured Driver, despite his wounds, leaps from a blackened alleyway and tackles Travis to the ground, causing the recently unjammed Magnum to slip out of the taxi driver’s grip.
“Die.” Driver spits that word through his clenched and bloody teeth before slamming his fist against Travis’ face—the taxi driver’s head is slammed against the pavement and the Snubnose slips right out of his coat pocket.
Grabbing the Snubnose before it can hit the ground, the Driver jerks his arm towards Travis’ head…
BANG!
…the shot would be fatal if Travis hadn’t shifted to the side—it was still harmful, though, as the bullet had lodged itself in the side of Travis’ neck.
“Gah…!” Travis grunts as his body slips against the wet roads—the pain was great. Too great.
“You screwhead!” Travis monologues in his mind, his bleeding head pressed against the pavement. The taxi driver’s blood mixed with the coming rain as the Driver stood up and approached the slumped-over Travis with the Snubnose.
“But here is a man who stood up—against the filth! The scum!” Travis rolls over to see the Driver pointing the gun at his bloody face. Travis had a plan, though, and he pointed his seemingly unarmed hand at the Driver.
“Here is Travis Bickle!”
Slip.
BANG!
The spring-loaded mechanism in Travis’ arm had worked—it had brought a hidden automatic into his palm. Smoke rose from the barrel, and the Driver, with a similar wound to Travis’ in his neck, falls to the ground and drops the Snubnose.
The Driver keels over and falls on Travis, who outstretches his arms and forces the Driver into a full-nelson. The Driver gasps, still uttering few words.
Travis pulls one arm away from ensnaring the Driver and reaches for his leg—a movement the Driver had noticed, and he intercepted Travis’ hand. He reached at his opponent’s foot and grasped the knife taped around it.
Yank!
The Driver pulls the knife towards himself and subsequently forces it back down, puncturing Travis’ chest and carving another gaping hole in the taxi driver. The Driver pushes the blade downward and begins to slowly increase the hole’s size, prompting a scream from Travis.
“Piece of shit…!” Travis grunts. The mechanism in his arm forces the automatic forward again, and he presses it against the Driver’s scalp.
“Beg for mercy—beg for—!” Travis internally voices-over once more, but he’s interrupted by the Driver pushing his head back against the taxi driver’s face—this breaks Travis’ grasp on the Driver, and it allows him to move freely.
Despite all of his wounds, the Driver can still stumble to his feet. He sees Travis partially unconscious on the wet pavement, and he begins to limp away from the scene.
Travis, sitting in a pool of his blood, the Driver’s blood and rain, stumbles to his feet—he looks over the empty streets and sees the Driver turn a corner into a more populated part of the city.
Travis follows in suit, limping along the Driver’s path. Along his path was a trash can with discarded clothes sitting on the top. Travis grabs the clothing and slows down—he needed a disguise.
The Driver’s limp turns into a spring through the streets—he runs through crowds of people, kicks down trash cans; he had to get as far away as he could.
Trailing not far behind was Travis—which was hard to tell through his thick, previously-discarded coat, sunglasses and fedora; all good clothes, which makes it odd that the previous owner threw them out.
The disguised Travis pushes through the street; dead ahead is the Driver, who is sprinting through the bustling crowd of citizens.
Travis grasps his forehead and chuckles slightly—inside his head, he speaks to himself. “This is a nice city; nice people—but they’re in the way of me fully cleansing it…he’s out of my reach…”
The disguised Travis aims his Magnum at the Driver, who he can barely see through the crowd.
“Sometimes…you need to close a few doors to open a window…!”
BANG!
The bullet rushes through the hustle and bustle of the sidewalk, grazing a few citizens but striking the fleeing Driver in the back. “Gah!”
The citizens all shriek; the crowd all drops what they were doing—phones, suitcases, food—and they disperse.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Shooting in the same direction, Travis riddles the Driver with bullets—however, his frenzied joy in the hunt allows the Driver to slink away into an alley. He clutches his arm and grunts, shooting blood out of his teeth.
Having not looked back, the Driver hadn’t seen Travis’ disguise; instead, he was focused on passing through the alley.
The Driver had finally limped to the other side of the alley and slumped against the side of a building. He waved his hand peacefully to a man in a fedora and a trench coat—but the man didn’t notice it, as he was on the search for something. The same man stepped into a building, and the Driver decided to follow for refuge.
(End music)
The inside of the building was pristine with white walls and expensive furniture—all of which was stained by the Driver’s spilling blood as he limped in front of the man in the coat to reach the elevator. The man in the coat had stopped in the building only to search it, but after seeing the Driver he followed him into the elevator.
The elevator doors closed—the Driver exhaled. Now that he was going higher up, Travis couldn’t catch up to him…
…at least, that’s what he thought before he looked towards the man in the coat. His face was significantly wounded, blood also trailed behind him—in his hands, a Magnum.
The Driver exhales once more.
Flick.
The elevator lights go off.
Flick.
(Cue: Pride - Kendrick Lamar)
The lights return to reveal the Driver’s hand around Travis’ neck—the Driver pushes the taxi driver against the elevator wall, knocking his stolen fedora off his head to reveal his self-cut mohawk.
Flick.
Off again.
Flick.
The lighting returns—this time, Travis had the upper hand. He pressed the Driver’s head against the elevator door, repeatedly slamming it against the metal.
The lights flicker on-and-off many more times to showcase the offensive maneuvers of both combatants. The Driver retaliates by pushing backwards, releasing him from Travis’ grasp and sending the taxi driver staggering to the back of the elevator.
The Driver rushes forward and drives his fist towards Travis, who slides to the left to avoid the blow and leads the Driver’s fist to hitting the metal wall.
While the Driver grasps his fist in pain, Travis lunges forward, tackling the Driver against the adjacent wall of the elevator. He whips his knife out of his coat pocket and thrusts it into the Driver’s chest, carving a hole very similar to the one carved into Travis’ chest earlier.
The Driver grunts and reaches for the knife with his good hand, slapping Travis’ hand away from the handle. He grabs the knife and rips it out of his own chest before plunging it back down into Travis’ shoulder, causing the taxi driver to yell and fall backwards. The Snubnose falls out of his pocket and slides towards the Driver, who picks the firearm up and aims it at Travis.
BANG! BANG!
Travis made a quick motion to ensure his vitals weren’t hit, but the bullets still passed through his shoulders and ricocheted off the elevator walls; they now darted upward and blasted through the top of the ascending elevator, cutting one of the wires pulling it upward.
The elevator rocks—the lights shut off completely. The only source of illumination are two more subsequent Snubnose shots, both of which miss Travis, mostly due to the lack of light.
The taxi driver was still sprawled against the floor—he had two new wounds in his shoulders, but he still staggered to his feet and rushed towards the Driver, forcing his knife down on his foe.
The Driver grunts and shuffles to the side, causing the knife to be driven into the metal wall of the elevator. A spark shoots out and electricity explodes in Travis’ face—the knife had messed even more with the elevator’s inner workings.
The Driver, slipping away from Travis’ wall-bound knife, reaches in his jacket’s pocket. His hand returns with his hammer, and the Driver leaps forward and slams the tool against Travis’ face, cracking his skull and pushing Travis into the corner of the now-still elevator.
“Hughggg…” Travis groans externally as he begins to talk to himself internally. “Smarter than you, son of a…Ugh…saw that coming you fuckin’…”
Travis internal speech is jumbled as he tries to think of a plan—almost instinctively, he grabs his Magnum out of his coat pocket and aims it at the Driver.
BANG!
The bullet missed its target but managed to do something better—it struck the elevator’s buttons. This opened the door of the mechanism and revealed a new floor of the building; this room was filled with desks and computers, and Travis fired once more at the Driver.
BANG!
The bullet strikes the Driver, pushing him out of the elevator and into the dimly-lit office room. This wasn’t such a smart play for Travis, though.
As the taxi driver shuffles to his feet, the Driver points his Snubnose at the top of the open elevator.
He finally speaks again. “You know the story about the scorpion and the frog?”
Travis weakly tries to point his Magnum towards the Driver, but the aching in his hand becomes too great. He simply lunges forward.
“The frog never made it across the river.”
BANG!
The Snubnose fires; the remaining strings that pulled the elevator snapped and the mechanism fell. Travis went with it…
SMASH![]
The elevator exploded…underneath Travis’ feet. His last lunge had carried him far enough to grab the ledge between the elevator and the office room, and he pulled himself into the latter.
Before the Driver could react, Travis fired the magnum at his leg and caused it to go limp. Travis weakly got to his feet and repeatedly fired at the Driver, opening more and more holes in his body and spilling more and more of his blood.
The Driver fires back while on the ground…
BANG! BANG!
With his shots opening Travis’ chest even more and causing him to slump to the ground. The Driver pushes himself onto Travis and wrestles him to the ground, holding him in place.
Travis, with a groan, pushes himself forward and bites the Driver’s hand—a feral attack, but a useful one, as it caused the Driver to yell and release his grip on Travis. Travis pulls his head back and rips three of the Driver’s fingers off his right hand.
“…gah!” The Driver gasps, slumping over on his back. Travis staggers to his feet and readies his knife once more before lunging downward, plunging it into the Driver’s chest.
The Driver pushes himself to the side to throw himself away from Travis, but the taxi driver’s knife was still in his chest. The knife was practically driven into his heart, but he still ripped it out and lunged it back at Travis, impaling the side of his neck and allowing the Driver to pull Travis closer. The two wrestle more on the ground, their bodies growing weaker and weaker from the wounds.
The Driver finally grabs Travis’ Snubnose from off the ground and aims it at Travis…
BANG!
…the shot blew a giant hole in Travis’ shoulder and sent him rolling towards the office room’s window—if he was going to die, he had to make sure his foe wouldn’t live.
BANG!
Travis shoots a hole in the window with his Magnum, shattering the entire thing and displaying the city below the both of them.
While on the ground, Travis pulls the Driver into a bear hug and rolls out of the window—leaving both himself and the Driver to plummet off the building.
BANG! BANG!
Shots were fired from close range—more wounds were delivered. As Travis and the Driver fell closer and closer to the ground, they became urgent to come out on top. They struggled over the Magnum—pulling it from both sides…
BANG!
…but Travis had won the game of tug-of-war. A shot was fired through the Driver’s face—his handsome head was disfigured, and his body fell limp. Travis pushed the Driver underneath him as they came closer to the ground…
KO!
…and the Driver broke his fall. Travis was alive, barely, but the Driver was not. His body was riddled with bullets, covered with stab wounds—his bones were sticking out from the impact of the fall, and blood puddled underneath him.
Circling around the two was a crowd of citizens. They had witnessed what they thought was a suicide attempt, but truly, it was a murder. They shrieked when they saw the sight.
“I am God’s lonely man…” Travis’ internal voice trails off as he repeatedly slams his fist into the Driver’s head, eventually smashing it into bits against the pavement. Travis falls practically dead on the bloodied and broken body of the Driver—and the crowd closes in.
Results[]
Kitty: The hell…? Did Travis survive? I swear, this better not be a cliffhanger…
Puppy: While both of these combatants were practically normal humans—they could both take a lot and dish out a lot, but only one of them was better in both ways.
Kitty: Yeah, the Driver himself was a whole ‘nother beast when it came to driving…which makes sense, cause after all his name is “The Driver”.
Puppy: Not only was he better behind the wheel, his car itself was much better. Comparing the Driver’s car to Travis’ taxi was like comparing an atom bomb to a…taxi!
Kitty: But when the cars were gone, that’s when everything would shift in Travis’ favor. He was much better in battle on foot, having served in ’nam.
Puppy: Not only could he take a lot more damage than the Driver—while the Driver could survive car crashes and stab wounds to the gut, Travis has survived much more lethal wounds from firearms.
Kitty: Speakin’ of firearms, Travis had a much better arsenal…I mean, who brings just a hammer to a gunfight; ‘specially when it’s a buncha guns…
Puppy: The Driver was completely washed when on foot, but he could potentially win by drawing the car fight on long enough to use his driving skill to his advantage…
Kitty: But when his opponent could still shoot him down and survive whatever the Driver could throw at him from his car, the Driver couldn’t exact hold that out either…
Puppy: The Driver was certainly a formidable foe and held up his namesake, but when against Travis’ superior physicality, weaponry and skill, he was crushed.
Kitty: This fight really Mustang the Driver…nobody’ll see him Tes-later, though…Travis really trucked him up!
Puppy: …car puns? Seriously?
Kitty: How else do I put it? The Driver just got DeNirowned!
Puppy: …the winner is Travis Bickle.
Next Time on Death Battle![]
Asura: “I pray to no one, nor will I be prayed to! But, above all else, I will never forgive you for making my daughter cry!”
Kratos: “Zeus! Your son has returned! I BRING THE DESTRUCTION OF OLYMPUS!”
Trivia[]
- The connections between Driver and Travis are that they’re both the heroes of cult-classic, violent and bloody films which are known for their calm soundtracks. They both start off with a job that involves driving (Driver is a stunt driver and Travis is a taxi driver) but moonlight in careers that pay in different ways (Driver does getaway driving for criminals, Travis is a vigilante). Both of them are mentally messed-up and have hero-complexes, which drive them to risk their lives to impress a woman (Irene and Betsy), but after said woman leaves them, their mental state deteriorates and they end up spending their last few moments trying to save a female from the world of crime, with the final conflict of both films leaving both heroes brutally wounded, and their endings are still a mystery.
- The soundtrack would be titled “Driven Insane”, referencing both’s jobs as drivers and their insanity caused by the world around them.