    You are sitting behind the wheel of a truck full of illegal auto parts
on their way to the notorious Death Rally. It's a lousy job, but somebody's
gotta do it. A glance at the rear mirror shows only smoke and fire, burning
bridges, burning cop cars. A film of red blood covers your cracked windshield.
The wipers are out of work. OK, all right, you are the first one to admit that
you had to commit a few traffic violations to get here in time, but that's no
reason for the cops to get all excited. You are a man who likes to keep his
promises. Before you looms the police road block. Several truck loads worth of
gun barrels point into your general direction from behind the blockade.
Represented deterrents range from infamous piece-making Peacemakers, through
sub-machine guns, shotguns, sniper rifles, assault rifles, machine guns,
miniguns, grenade launchers and anti-tank rocket launchers, to vehicle
mounted, all-purpose, anti-everything, auto-loading, infrared-homing guided
missile systems. The cops really mean to get you this time. All they are going
to get is trouble. You pump the gas pedal, and your truck roars her challenge
to the cops. Under the roar you can hear an echo of crunching bones from the
vicinity of your rear wheels.
    
    'Come on, dare me,' you think.
    
    'We dare you, punk,' blares the megaphone. You grin madly. Time to rock
and roll. And that's when it happens. Clouds seem to part, and radiant rays
of sunlight shine down on you, glorifying your blood-washed truck. You can
hear angels singing. Your radio seems to switch channels by itself.
    
    'You are the chosen one,' speaks a quicksilver voice from the radio.
'Listen. I am True Tom Rhymer, and I know the road you're traveling. I am the
man in the machine, the guru of the cars, the rocket petrol daddy. You show
great potential, kid. I tell no lies. Death Rally is your destiny. You could
be the one to climb to the top and challenge the demon-king of the race, the
old hellracer himself, the Adversary. Listen to True Tom. Fortune and glory,
kid, fortune and glory. Listen close.'
    
    And then the moment passes, and everything is back to normal, and you put
the hammer down, and your truck roars forward like a hungry T-Rex. You roar
right along with it. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Time to go to
work.
    
    Suddenly the air is filled with bullets and bombs like raindrops in a
heavy-metal rain as all the guns go off in a simultaneous nuke boom. Missiles
tear their burning trails in zigzag patterns of hidden meaning. To the left
and right skyscraper-giants grumble and fall in slow-motion. Under your wheels
the asphalt burns and melts and disappears into clouds of hissing steam. Yeah!
You don't even slow down as you bash through the blockade.
    
    You park your truck, mortally wounded in the battle, in a dark alley right
next to the Death Rally pits area. She let's out a long groan and a sigh, and
is dead still.
    
    Auto-wrecks smoke and burn by the side of the road. The asphalt is wet
with skid marks of blood. Tires shriek with ecstasy in tune with machine gun
rumble. Death Rally! 
    
    You jump out from the truck. You can hear the sirens closing in. A shady
character, his face hidden by a high collar and a hat, is pulling a burned
corpse of a driver from a spent piece of trash Vagabond racing car.
    
    'Hey, you the dealer?' you shout. His eyes flash in the shadows.
    
    'Indeed,' he answers with a voice as sinister as is his appearance.
    
    'Oh yeah? Well, I've got a delivery for you.' The sirens are getting
louder. The cops are really out to get you.
    
    'Indeed, and I am grateful.' You can imagine the grin on the dealer's
hidden face.
    
    'Well, look, fair is fair, I brought you your goods, now you gotta help me
out, those cops are gonna be here any second now.' You can already see the
lights of the cop cars flashing from behind the corner.
    
    The dealer motions towards the smoking corpse at his feet.
    
    'It seems that Death Rally is short of one driver, and you must be
good since you made it this far. This Vagabond here is not as bad as she
looks. A new paint job, maybe some tuning, and she'll be as good as new.'
    
    You nod. Fortune and glory? No kidding. The easiest decision you ever
made. You jump into the Vagabond, and floor the gas pedal. All that the cops
are gonna find is skid marks and a cloud of smoke.
    
    Towards a Death Rally destiny filled with glory and gore - you are on
your way!

