Gritty Urban Robocop - The Movie.

"Anybody got a smoke?"

You are a half cyborg/human, law enforcement force to be reckoned with. And have served the public trust, protected the innocent, and upheld the law for - up until eighteen months ago, when you were fired for destroying the local Police station, after losing a heated game of Darts against ED209, almost two decades; it was the life which came to define you. You are Robocop, and without the badge, being Robocop becomes something of a shitty existence...

It is Tuesday. The mid-afternoon sun blazes through the closed curtains of your filthy, one bedroom apartment - deep in the decaying heartland of darkest Detroit. You awake atop of the remains of a triple mahogany bolstered bed (flattened to the floor by the sheer weight of your metallic skin over so many years) rusty, covered in spray painted, foul-mouthed graffiti, and no longer regulated by public government taxes. The floor is riddled with empty beer cans, crushed baby food jars, half-smoked cigarette ends, and a torn up copy of Big-Jugs; a black moment, when you temporarily forgot you no longer have a penis.

You arise and jerk the curtains open, as the sun pierces your semi-circled bloodshot eyes. You down a mug of last night’s lukewarm Java, then look down in bemusement as you step upon another fresh turd inside your helmet; courtesy of the neighbourhood moggy. You scrape it off with a ripped page of a TV guide and wear it on anyway; laughing for a moment at the thought of covering The Terminators face in cat-shit, after his continuous refusals to help relaunch your career; by engaging in a celebrity boxing match with you. You open up your leg compartment to grab a bottle of Budweiser and a fresh packet of Marlboro Lights; then wonder how to let the day pass without having to engage in conscious thought; the usual port of call involving your dirt stained busted sofa, and movie adaptations of Frankenstein, Pinocchio, and Short Circuit Two till sunrise - all the while wondering whether Lewis really loved you, even though she ran off to Mauritius with the nephew of Dick Jones, many moons ago. She said it wasn't because you lacked a penis, but you know it was.

You initially sought employment, but cyborgs with a conscience are low in demand. The recruitment centre suggested Bin Man – but you kept getting stuck to the dumpster cart. Security work bored the shit out of you. Your ghost-written autobiography “Robocop – Heavy Metal Heart”, became Pulp Fiction before it even hit the shelves. And your debut solo music album “Murphy - All By Myself”, was widely ridiculed and misunderstood by the few who even bothered to hear it. You turned down the option of disability benefits because you hated the militant interviews to claim, but your landlord is scared to death of you, so residence is never an issue.

You never intended to start Robo-smoking and drinking, but the stress of one solitary date in almost two-years – which you would rather forget, put pressure upon a mixed-human/machine who feels emotion - much less the lack of a good shagging; much to your chagrin, cuddling steel in the middle of winter, just isn't appealing. You consider that even if you found a willing sexual partner in crime, your oestrogen levels have grown so strong it wouldn't make a difference; as apparent in your love of gossip magazines and daytime soap-operas. You are jobless, hopeless, friendless, and feel worthless; 21^st century life, for Robocop, is seven shades of shit.

You cannot technically die, and still carry a little faith in God to go down the shadowy path of suicide by electric toaster in the bath. Eventually – dismayed by a world which has turned its back on a soul who done nothing more than serve their protection, your prime directives fizzle out on you; and turn your mainframe into chasing the empty highs in a life of criminal activity. Being a former cop, you know every short-cut and means in which law and disorder operate; six months later, you find yourself as the Tony Montana of Motor City; the kingpin of all unholy activity. Life has found its meaning once again; only, within a world you once stood directly against. The only way they can stop you, is to develop a new Robocop... a Gritty, Urban... Robocop!

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