bigdogmc1
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Chapter 2 – Start Your Engines I shook myself and went back to the Cavy. I had a lot to think about now. Again, I pulled out the phone and looked at the text. In the message, there was a location that I didn’t know. I drove on down to the nearest hotel, and showed the concierge the location, and he did a Google search to find it. After receiving a copy of the directions, he pulled me aside. “You do know where this leads to, right?” he asked. “Yeah, my destination,” I answered coolly, turning to walk away. He grabbed me, and spun me back around, “That is the location where Twisted Metal is rumored to start up this year,” he said. “You’re the third person to ask me to Google where that is. You best know what you’re getting yourself into, kid.” “All I know is, is that I have nothing to lose and everything to gain,” I replied. “I’ll pray for you, kid. You are going to need it.” “Thanks,” I said, “But I don’t much believe in prayer anymore.” The man returned to his desk, and I left the building. I followed the directions easy enough, and they led to a bunch of those self-storage units. Right away, I saw several other people milling around, talking and learning about what they were to face. Glancing around, I also spotted multiple snipers and guards armed to the teeth. I was stopped and asked to hand over any weapons by one of those guards. “I don’t have any,” I said. “Really,” I added, when he looked at me in disbelief. Another guard reached through the open window, and flipped open the glove box. He pulled out a 9mm pistol. “Where did that come from,” I said, in disbelief. I didn’t know my dad owned a gun. After that, the checked the rest of the car, and waved me through. I was directed to one of the last storage units, and backed the car in. I got out, and started walking around, stretching after the long drive. Now, I was more than halfway across the country from my home. I studied the other drivers, and made mental notes on each: there was a clown, a pair of cops, a pair of twin sisters in racing outfits, a man that appeared to be a skeleton in a leather jacket, a man in a suit with his back to me, and any number of regular people. The clown came over to me and said, “Well, well, we have fresh meat here.” “Uh, hi,” I answered, shyly. “And who are you, little boy.” “I’m not a boy, I’m 18. And the name’s David.” “Davey, huh, well, do you know who I am?” “No, and I keep getting that question asked a lot. And before you ask, no, I don’t watch T.V.” “Well, my name is Needles Cane, the infamous clown serial killer.” Well, shit, I thought, sarcastically. My luck gets better and better. “Interesting choice of profession. I’m Dave, the kid whose father beats him on a regular basis. Nice to meet you.” “I thought you weren’t a kid,” he said, and walked away, cackling. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise up. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I took a breath, and the skeleton came over, pulling out his scythe. “You,” he said. “You were on my list, until yesterday!” “What?” I asked, stupidly. After the whole scythe thing, I figured either he was the Grim Reaper, or a lunatic off his rocker. Or both. “Yes, right up until you bumped into Calypso. You were supposed to die that day, but because of that paradox, you’re future is unclear now.” “Paradox?” “Yes, an inconsistency in fate. You see, Calypso died once, but he stole a demon’s power and came back. Now, he continually interferes with fate, which makes my job a lot fucking harder. So, watch your back, because I’m going to do my damnedest to reclaim you, and set the time line right.” He walked away, muttering to himself about “…that meddling asshole Calypso.” “Wait, how was I supposed to die?” He turned around, and snarled, “The cops were supposed to catch you, and send you home to Daddy-dearest who was going to pummel the shit out of you so hard, he would have collapsed both of your lungs and let you suffocate to death. It was going to be extremely painful.” I shivered, and turned around and sat down in my car. I was supposed to die? I was supposed to die?! And that asshole of a father was going to do it? Hell no! I felt this strong desire to win, so I could watch him die in one of the most painful ways I could imagine. And I had a good imagination. My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening, and someone sitting beside me. “Hello,” the man, who was an officer, said to me. “Carl Roberts, LAPD.” “Dave Simmons, abuse victim,” I answered, for lack of an occupation. We shook hands. “I know this looks scary, but it’ll only get worse from here on out. So, who’s your co-driver?” “Don’t have one,” I replied. “You really should have one. I have my sister, Jamie, and we’re going to try teaming up this year. In the past couple years, we entered separately, be we’ve discovered we work better as a team. One can drive, while the other watches the other contestants and helps run the weapons. By the way, don’t forget who the enemy is out there. It can get confusing.” “Thanks, I said. But aren’t you the enemy?” “I might be, when it comes down to it. My sister and I are competing to stop Calypso, and we’ll probably take out anyone who gets in the way. We don’t like it, but what choice do we have? No officer has gotten closer any other way.” “And so the law fails again,” I couldn’t help saying. He sighed, and said, “Yeah.” He exited the car, wishing me good luck. I said the same back. I put my head in my hands, and then banged my head against the steering wheel. Any sense of hope I had left vanished. As for who my enemy was, I didn’t know. Could it be the psychotic clown or the Grim Reaper himself? And yet, the police officer scared me the most right now. The other two advertised that they were killers and would delight in seeing my car explode into a million pieces. The cop was trying to befriend me, gain my trust, and then eliminate me when I was useless. That actually scared me that a cop, who took an oath to serve and protect, would do that. I was shaken out of my thoughts by another body entering the storage unit. Now what, I thought. “Is there a David Simmons in here?” the person asked, looking at a clipboard. “In the car,” I replied, and got out. “Hi, I’m Tony, my friends call me Torque, and I’m here to help you turn your car into a monster.” “Thanks, but I’m afraid there’s a lot of work to do be done here to even call it a car. It’s a POS right now.” “Well, let’s see,” he said, and pulled the switch on an overhead light. Suddenly, I could see all the tools and parts scattered around the little unit. “Wow,” I said, and picked up one of the wrenches lying on a bench. “Yeah,” Torque said. “Calypso has deep pockets.” “How can he afford all this?” I asked, still in awe. “Different ways. Embezzlement, blackmail, robbery, scams, but recently a contestant won and wished for money, so Calypso made it rain money and the pile grew so large, it smothered the victor. I think his name was Chas, or Chucky or something. Anyways, he has money, and we’re going to put it to use. Now, do you understand the basics, or should I explain.” “Explain away,” I said. “I don’t know anything, apparently.” “O.K. First of all, this is a vehicular death match. It will be a free-for-all. Once the boss says go, you go, and you kill everyone in sight. Last man standing wins the grand prize, whatever it may be for you. Now, to do that, we modify your cars. You can either choose to help, or step out for two days while my men and I work on your car.” “I’ll stay and help, so I know how to work it, and fix it if something should go wrong.” “Good choice, but my men and I do good work. Now, most of the modifications will be standard, but we’ll add something special for you. Standard modifications include two Gatling guns, several missile launchers, and a few other odd and end weapons, like the napalm launcher and the environmental antenna. Now, for the unique stuff. We’ll tune your car to fit your battle style. Now, what is your style?” “Uh,” I said. I started to think. “Perfect,” he said. “You want speed. You want to be able to evade all the competition, but hold enough fire power to take them on if it should come to it.” “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go with that.” He looked at the clipboard again, and came up smiling. “I have just the special for you. It’s called a spectral missile. Once you are locked on target, the missile will fly through anything and everything to hit its target, and it packs a punch when it hits. What do you think?” I smiled, and said, “I like it.” “Good,” Torque said, and slapped the Cavalier. “I know dub you Specter.” We then went at it, swapping out the pathetic, duct-taped engine for a racing engine, adding more speed and horsepower. We swapped out the bald, regular tires for better, tougher ones that could help me keep speed in any condition. He told me that the bulk of the battle would take place in a suburb with a lot of farmland around it, so the all-purpose treads would help me keep speed and traction off-road. “Thanks,” I said. We then installed the roll-cage. “Now, before I finish, I want you to go take it for a test drive, make sure everything works.” “All right,” I said, and started up the car. Upon leaving, the gun from the glove box was returned, as a sort of insurance of my protection. I floored the accelerator, sending the Cavy leaping forth and rocketing down the road. This road led through a bunch of canyons that led me into small town. I took the car into some power slides on the way, getting a feel for the new engine. I liked it.
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