[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pokXRs_xdeU&list=PLCuEH5Tl2B8qq-98aYCRPmsG16PXUmPRd&index=2[/youtube][/center] The burning. That was the only thing which kept Keah’s senses alive. Without the internal atmospheric scrubbers in his helmet, the smog would have been choking, blinding. The acrid smell of flaming spirits was palpable in the air, the inferno in the Duat turning the temperature up from cold to hot fast. “ Come on, Demon! Don’t you feel at home here?” Monica came tumbling out, a chariot wreathed in flame. The car went through the Duat. He’d still have to be insane to drive around. But the OverDriver was no ordinary driver. Even with half of his windshield being aflame, the King of the Detroit Stacks manuevered his way through the nightclub with surgical precision. Keah was forced to slide out of the way again just as Mackwell made another pass at him. Alright. Playing roadkill was getting tired fast. He wasn’t just some rogue turbo-blazer who knew how to turn the wheel. He didn’t get through the Death Derby through just instinct but with knowledge. He didn’t spend ten months in an auto-garage for nothing. The inner workings of Daedalus may have been blackboxed from the public eye but even great artists had to steal from somewhere else, right? He took a moment to hide underneath a bar, the Victory’s eth-cooled hybrid engine growling in the background, while he took a moment to think. The Jury-Rigg’s far away…..I attempt to call anyone, all they’d have a conversation with is a corpse…...Even if I had a gat, I’d get run over before I popped him…..If I run out of the Duat, he’ll just chase me down….. He heard the growling getting closer. He just managed to avoid getting crushed as the bar turned into splinters, the front hood ramming through the extinct mahogany, more bottles clattering on the floor. Front hood lodged in the wall, the wheels spun in the opposite direction silently - [i]No noise. That’s strange. [/i] The answer then clicked. Motorised mag-suspension. Mag-wheels. Of course. Every auto-train on the west coast used the same principles on a larger scale. Only a few manufacturers in the world ever tried mag-lev and only Daedalus managed to perfect and miniaturise the tech. The results spoke for itself. Frictionless acceleration that allowed any chassis to achieve 0 to 60 in a blink of an eye. However, there was a reason why mag-suspension wasn’t widespread amongst racers, even in the black markets. The biggest problems were that no one could get it to work When it did work, there were few racers who could handle the dizzying speeds without extensive illegal booster-ware modifications to compensate for the increase in acceleration. The OverDriver’s unmatched success in the past Death Derbies suddenly made sense. Who else but him could master the hurdles that mag-wheels required? Of course, there were weaknesses. Keah picked up a bottle of Angel Absinthe rolling absent-mindedly on the floor with his flesh hand. It wasn’t his throwing hand but you didn’t need aim to hit it. Popping off the cork, he took one of the bar napkins left strewn on the shag carpeted floor and stuffed it into the neck. The soaked rag lit when he moved it near to the sparkling end of a broken neon sign-board. Tires reaming across the littered floor, Monica’s headlights glared back at him. Locked into first gear. Waiting. Well, getting run over by a Daedalus prototype wasn’t the worst way to die in this world. He lifted up his left prosthetic, making a come-hither motion. The message was clear. [i]Come get me. [/i] The Victory’s engine gives out one final blood-curdling roar of burning ethyl before gunning forward, building up speed, tattooing tracks onto the dance floor. 60 mph. His breathing quickens. 120 mph His knees quaver. 180 mph The bumper’s almost kissing him. 210 mph Now! He lobs the bottle in an uncoordinated throw before ducking, Monica clipping his left ankle. The molotov lands inside the groove of the left upper chassis, its contents spilling around the disc-like wheels. The Daedalus prototype begins swerving, slowing down to a trudging crawl, weight concentrated on its left side. The upper left wheel detaches itself and the entire chassis tips over, front bumper grinding on the Duat’s intricately paved floors until it comes to a halt. Keah gimps over towards the wreck, his ankle anchoring him to the ground. Surprising that the OverDriver hasn’t escaped yet. Good. Bringing him to the Ark alive is his first priority. His fingers clasp the front door, pulling it open slowly, preparing for the worst - Empty. Before the shock could set in, the stereo bursts in a crackle of static. “ You may want to look to your right.” He turns and sees the OverDriver standing at the entrance. Unharmed. Unblemished. The only damage on him is a long jagged crack on his Prism. “ That was fun, wasn’t it?” The OverDriver tapped the side of his helmet playfully. “ Telepathing’s the new rage these days. You’ll figure it out soon. In the meantime, enjoy a little gift from me.” The Victory began to shake erratically before it exploded. Keah’s world went tumbling up, down, left and right. His body was bending in ways it shouldn’t have and feeling. The last thing that he felt along the skin-searing heat that he felt was his back colliding with hardness, a starburst of pain lancing out, then darkness. [hr] [center][i]“ there’s only one path for us, Drift Demon. we either reach a quick dream or a quick death. i’m not sure how they’re different.” [/i][/center]