He could smell the rubber burning, could feel the engine rumbling under his fingers as he gripped the steering wheel. Outside the screams were loud, wild, and he could just make out the sound of his name in the roar of it all, could hear them all chanting it like some frantic prayer…. “BYG… BYG…BYG” He grinned, letting the sound both incite him and numb him, shutting out everything else. There was only this car and the empty stretch of road ahead of him. Nothing else mattered, not the other cars lined up beside him, not his opponents… they were irrelevant, they knew it. He was the best. And he was about to prove it.

          The flag girl was taking to the street. She walked slowly, one heeled foot languidly placed in front of the other, flag flickering in the wind between her painted fingertips. She walked until she was nearest to the front of his car, out of the line of fire but close enough to make sure she caught his attention. Her eyes were heavy on his, and her smile was just for him as she lifted the flag into the air. The sound of revving engines grew to a deafening roar, and he felt his adrenaline kicking in. This was it. This was what he lived for, what he breathed for, this moment between stop and go, where time slowed down and hovered somewhere above it all. This was everything.

          And when the flag slipped from between her fingers, and the car came to life under him, he wasn’t BYG anymore. He was a machine, one with the vehicle, another gear in a sea of wires and throttles and mechanics…. he punched the gas, screaming in exhilaration as the car surged forward.

          It started off pretty even, twelve cars in neat rows as they crossed the starting point, but it wasn’t long before he was pulling ahead, and cutting off the nearest racers. . The world was a blur, a pretty picture in his rearview mirror.  They were racing through a deserted countryside in the mountains, the road a rough mix of inclines and winding turns. It was haunting and beautiful at the same time….this was going to be one of his favorite races… he could feel it.

          Out of his side view he could see G.O’s ink black Challenger trying to weave around him and he smirked at the attempt, switching gears with a smooth familiarity, putting more distance between them. The rest of the cars were struggling to keep up, and he prepared himself for another easy win. He supposed he could make it interesting, maybe slow it down a bit and give them more of a chance… but it wasn’t in his nature to fake it. BAP was the best street racing crew in the city, and everyone knew it. No point in playing games. He pushed the car forward.

          A sudden flash of lights in the side view. The hum of an approaching engine. He tilted his head to check the view behind him, expecting another attempt from MBLAQ’s ace driver. A blue Lotus was pulling up behind him. He frowned, not recognizing the car and unable to make out the face in the driver seat… but whoever it was was coming up fast, and he sat up in his seat a little. He put a little more pressure on the gas, weaving his car around to block the car off, but the Lotus reacted quicker than