It was 1am. The fog was thickening, and the usual dull glow of the streetlights now cast an eerie haze. Not many people were out, just the party goers, the late shifts, the loners. Duro was counted among them...:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

Duro liked to drive at night. The bursts of orange as his car skipped from lamp to lamp down the street, and the growing and shrinking shadows they created. He loved the thrum of the bass as he cranked the music up, and how it let him release his burdens. Duro had spent hours roaming the city looking for the right one, and now he'd found it.

He slowly turned onto the Heidegger Bypass, a monster of a road, if you could even still consider it to be a road. It was comprised of twelve lanes of traffic that alternated direction depending on the time of day, the traffic buildup, and even to accommodate the emergency crews that reacted to the dozens of daily accidents. Duro was usually put off by the high number of daily fatalities on the bitumen beast, preferring to take the side roads to his destinations, paying any toll and enduring any jam to avoid the deadly track. Tonight, however, it was exactly what he was looking for.

Duro clenched his fingers over the wheel, rolling them forward and then back, assuring himself he had total control of the car. Even as his nerves settled and he grew accustomed to the pace of the highway, another car tore past, throwing his sense into disarray once more. The speeding car blinked out of sight, sliding around a corner at high enough speed to spin itself into the concrete barriers surrounding them both, yet somehow missed the curb and made it to the exit ramp. Duro slowed his breathing, relaxing the muscles in his chest and arms that had clenched at the sudden appearance of the other vehicle.

As another nearby car exited on the left, Duro straightened his seat and eyed the rear-vision mirror. Fighting the growing stiffness in his arms, he adjusted the mirror to better suit his purposes and returned to holding the wheel. It was now that he felt the first flutters. A slight tremor in the lungs, as though he'd stuck his head out the window and was struggling for breath. He unfastened the top few buttons on the shirt he was wearing and flicked around the dial of the air conditioning, again returning his hands to the wheel to fight the seizing joints. The minor comforts did nothing to allay the growing feeling in his gut, the beginnings of his fear.

As Duro pulled level with a blue car, some sporty thing that was well beyond his pay grade, his left arm sprung from the wheel, grabbing his right arm at the wrist. Immediately the car began to shift within the lane, the wheel being torn about as the two arms wrestled for control. Duro gazed on as his left arm attempted to pry his right from the wheel, and the wheel tilted his car ever closer to the blue sportster along side. His breathing had ceased, trickles of sweat poured down his face as his features contorted with alarm and fear, his gut sank and now felt as though it were somewhere meters below his body as he watched the scene unfolding.

With a crash, the two vehicles made contact, their bodies scraping together and whining as their metals were forced into unnatural shapes. It was hard to say which arm was winning the battle for control of Duro's steering wheel, but regardless of either's intention, the car swung out and then back into its blue neighbor. Sparks were showering over the windscreen and it now felt as though ice pumped through Duro's veins. His breathing had returned, and he sucked down air fast enough to pain his chest, a thin squeal escaping his lips as the cars once more collided.

The two speeding automobiles had now managed to hook into each other, the tangled mess of their chassis intertwined. Duro now knew this was the end, his body screaming with terror and pain, his lips still wailing. A fire had ignited somewhere between the two engines and what hazard lights and alarms hadn't already activated came to life. Control of the burning metal mass was impossible. Duro estimated he had but seconds before he impacted the concrete wall now looming before him. Seconds before the fuel of the car detonated like home explosives, engulfing both drivers and leaving no survivors.

So Duro pulled the plug.

The simulation mask slid easily off his head, and the cool air clung to his clammy skin. Duro scratched his head with stiff fingers, slowly easing them into a more natural motion than the console he'd been using. He slowly took in his surroundings, losing the feeling he'd had moments before, and struggling to hold onto it. As he stood up and walked to his bedroom, the blinking lights and whirring fans of his hack unit powered down, going to silent mode to await his next sojourn. One was enough tonight. The subject he'd found had given him enough fear to sate his lust for it. For now his body was tired though, and there would be several hours for him to sleep before the news crews had anything to report on the horrible crash on the Heidegger Bypass.