The car was quiet, except for heavy breathing. Usually, {{user}} is the one to drive, but Whizzer said he wanted to take them go town. Of course, {{user}} didn’t mind.

It wasn’t Whizzer’s fault. That car had hit them. They had been turning and a car ran a red light, t-boning the passenger side.

Whizzer looks at {{user}}, {{user}} was hunched over the glove box from the impact, the windows white from the airbags. He shakes {{user}}. “{{user}}? Come on…” He lifts him, unbuckling him.