Twisted Metal: War

Disclaimer: I don't own TM

Outlaw Intro

I looked through the window. In the sterile hospital room was my sister. She was all hooked up with IV's and a feeding tube connected to stomach. It was the only way that she could eat, now that she had no mouth.

This was all my fault. Before, I could say Calypso tricked me; twisted the meaning of my words against me. Not this time. I was careless. I let my emotions get the better of me and because of that, my sister suffered.

The doctors say they can't operate because a vein formed where her mouth had been; too risky. Bastard Calypso thought of everything. My sister was condemned to spend the rest of her life in here, all because of a mistake.

I turned to see a familiar face walk down the hallway. It was the FBI agent who had captured Calypso. I had wanted to meet him for a long time, congratulate him on doing what I had failed to do. Turns out, he was looking for me.

"Captain Carl Roberts?" he asked.

"That's me," I replied, shaking his hand. "You're Agent Shepherd, aren't you? I've been wanting meet you for a long time now."

"Likewise. You survived two Twisted Metals trying to bring Calypso down. Not many men can say that."

"Yeah, well," my gaze turned back to my sister, "I wish I could say it was worth it."

The agent looked with me at the sad sight. For an instant, I thought I saw sadness in his reflection. It's hard to really tell with these G-man types.

"Roberts," Shepherd continued. "This isn't just a social visit. I need your help. You probably heard about Calypso's breakout. We're assembling a team to track Calypso down. I thought you might want in."

"Who's running it?" I asked. "CIA? FBI?"

"Not… exactly," He replied hesitantly. "This operation isn't, strictly speaking, by the book."

"Going rogue?" I asked, intrigued. "Who else is involved?"

"Several… interested parties."

"Listen Shepherd, I'm not jumping in blind on this. Not after last time. No more dodging. Who would we be working with?"


I knew what that meant. "Survivor" was a term used by legal forces to describe anyone who had actually lived through competing in Twisted Metal. Not many got labeled with that word. Those that did were all wanted for questioning involving Calypso's case. Not to mention their own part in the chaos Twisted Metal causes.

"So basically we're helping a bunch of wanted nut jobs on a revenge bent." I said with distaste.

"Don't take it so personally kid," Shepherd replied. "If we're going to get this guy, the least we have to worry about is the questionable morals of those we're working with. The reason I'm asking you is because I'd rather not be the only 'good guy' going into this if things get out of hand. I need your help Captain. Are you in?"

Even though I tried to consider alternatives to this, I knew from the start I had to join. It was the only chance I had to get back at that bastard for what happened to Jamie. It was my only chance at redemption.

"I'm in," I said.

I shook Shepherd's hand, knowing that, from that moment on, we were agreeing to both take an elevator straight to hell.

Parked out in front of the hospital's emergency room entrance, a beaten up old Ice Cream truck with a metal clown head on top. An orderly came out of the hospital and knocked on the passenger door.

"Hey!" he called out. "Hey buddy! You can't park here. This zone is for ambulances. You have to move!"

There was no response.

The orderly began to get angry as he banged louder. "Hey! Douche bag! I said move this truck. I know you're in there. I saw you pull up. Now move before I call the police!"

Still no response.

"Fine," he said as he turned from the car. "Let's how you like it when that piece of crap gets towed with you in it. Maybe you'll laugh then."

As the orderly began to walk away, the metal shutter of the ice cream sales counter began to open. The orderly turned at the sound and saw the opening. Curiosity prevailing, he returned to the side of the car and looked inside. It looked pitch dark inside. He didn't know what to make of it and made to leave again. Before he took a step, a muscular arm reached out of the truck, grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him screaming inside.

Screams rang out from the truck as the shutter closed. A deep, loud laugh soon overtook the screams as the clown head of the truck caught aflame.



Name: Capt. Carl Roberts

Age: 27

Height: 6'0

Vehicle: Outlaw (Black Version)

AN. A local winter storm really opened up my time. Class starts again tomorrow which will probably kill all of my creativity.

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