Hell's Actor

The buzzing sound of cars zipping past closed stores rattled the streets of Birmingham.

It was a dangerous game they were playing, racing through the city centre.

The noise had abruptly woken up the homeless resting on public benches and bus shelters.

To those in need, it was another mark of abandonment by society. Or perhaps, it was the greatest nightly spectacle for the less than ordinary, overshadowed only by the street dogs shagging in the corner.

"This is not good," Averie muttered.

So far, he had managed to stay ahead of the pack thanks to his perfect drifts and risky maneuvers. But as more time passed and roads became wider and longer, it became difficult to maintain the pole position.

"This beauty is not as well-tuned as I thought."

He turned to the crew members.

"It’s all your fault."

"Us?" the cameraman uttered. "What did we do?"

"If you lot weren’t this heavy, it would have been easier. Let’s say one of you weighs 80 kgs, which means this car is weighing 240 kgs more than necessary. Add to that your equipment, and it’s a proper disaster over here."

He clicked his tongue.