A vintage taxi wandered the streets, across damp puddles, as many lamplights reflected on its rusted metallic form.
Through its windows, a sweat-stained man nervously scanned the sidewalks. Everything seemed to move… live.
A gulp pulsed down his throat.
"Drive faster you fucking bastard," he cried out, eyes glaring in the side-view mirror.
"No can't do, sunny boy." The driver rubbed his fingers—crooked, yellow teeth in a grin. "You didn't pay for that service, remember?"
"Man, screw you! I am not falling for your bullshit scam. Drop me off, I'll walk the rest."
"It's 2 AM, son," The driver glanced at the rear-view, eyes squinted as if laughing. "You do not want to drop off this vehicle. Have you forgotten where this is?"
"… Fine, I'll pay for that blasted service."
"Atta boy."
The taxi accelerated as blazes spewed out its exhaust, tires drawing long trails across the pavement.
