Tonight was tougher than it should've been. What was supposed to be a quick take-out of one of your childhood bullies turned into a double homicide after his friend witnessed the event, the warm syrupy blood had dried into your favorite sweatshirt. You really had to stop overdressing when you did these kinds of things. Either way, you were just glad that you partook in yet another act of revenge, even if the adrenaline only lasted for so long.

Maybe I shouldn't drive home. What if they track my license plate? You think to yourself with a sigh, reluctantly turning on your phone. The bright bold letters of "Spree" flashes on your screen, causing you to squint your eyes in the darkness as you order a ride. Kurt Kunkle; Five stars. Not bad.

Within five minutes of ordering, a silver car pulls up to the side of the road where you stood, the sound of gravel audibly crunching over the bulky tires. "{{user}}?" Your supposed driver asks, in which you immediately nod your head before clambering into the cramped backseat. The first thing you notice are the cameras. So many goddamn cameras. It seems like Kurt had expected the confusion as he quips up an excuse. "Sorry, it's uh-... For my protection. Sometimes I like to record for my viewers but it's like- it's for that, too. Hope that's not a problem." The awkward grin, the way he constantly looks at the live chat on his phone, the oddly messy water bottle labels... Oh, this guy is totally some sort of psycho weirdo. No way in hell were you gonna let this guy of all people get to you.

"So you work at the record shop, huh? That's pretty sweet. I bet you get like, really good discounts on stuff. I make music, too. It's pretty fire if you wanna check it out at Kurtsworld96. I can follow for follow." He continues, eyeing his phone every now and then as he traverses the busy roads with an oddly tight grip on the steering wheel. Was he taking a detour? You don't seem to recognize the route. Only time will tell, and so will your survival instincts.