A/N: Usually, I wait for at least one review bfore I update. But it has been....three? Four days? HOLY SHNIKEYS!! Almost a whole darn month with no reviews!!! I feel seriously inadequite right now :( But I suppose I just have to accept that there are younger, hipper writers in the AcceleSection and all my readers have moved on. Oh well. Here is the enxt chapter. If you don't like it...well, who the fuck reads this crap anyhow?!

Before they could enter the racing realms, the drivers would have to properly modify their vehicles. Soon, the work was underway—installing Nitrox boosters and Emergency Driver Returns was not as difficult as the newbies expected, but of course, there were your average tune-ups to contend with as well.

Even if Angie was completely insane—which he was—there was no denying his skills as a mechanic. The little drummer boy's first job was as a mechanic at a garage, and later he worked at Ostrog & Co., the garage owned by Demetri and Anya. He was great with tools, and anytime one of the Lost Boys had a problem they couldn't fix by themselves, they consulted Angie. He was almost psychic when it came to engines, and there were just some times when only his level of expertise would do.

This was one of those times.

"I just don't know what's going on with Silhouette," Jimmy said with a shake of his head. "She's still running, but something doesn't sound right."

"I'll take a look, Jimmers. Don't worry."

"She's my baby, Angie."

Angie gave the saint a good look before asking Jimmy to start the car. Silhouette was an exquisitely restored 1963 Chevy Impala that St. Jimmy had painted as purple as his own hair. With a gentle disposition, Angie put his ear to the hood and listened carefully. But after only a moment, his eyes went wide and he stood up straight.

In a panic, Angie called out, "Cut the engine!" He opened the hood and swore under his breath when he burned his fingertips.

Jimmy looked down at him with concern. "Angie, what's wrong?"

"I'm gonna need a bowl of tuna fish and some warm milk."

"Uh, Angie…this isn't really a good time for lunch."

"Yeah, I know," Angie said, "But this kitten I found in your manifold is half starved. Poor thing!"

Jimmy ran over to where the drummer stood, and indeed, he was holding a bewildered looking kitten. The stray was covered in so much motor oil they were unable to tell what color its fur was. Even as Angie and Jimmy tried to calm the kitten down, it screeched and turned in their hands. The kitten landed on its feet and ran across the garage, before finally clawing its way up Taro's back.

Taro sputtered in surprise; just a moment before he was in the middle of a pleasant conversation with Karma Eiss, and now there was a cat sitting on his head. A cat. Sitting on his head. Karma giggled.

Taro narrowed his eyes and grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck. "Bad kitty," he said, and placed it on the floor. The cat quickly scrambled back up to Taro's shoulders and reclaimed its place on top of his head. Taro groaned in frustration.

"Awwww, Manny likes you!" Angie said. He and Jimmy made their way over to Taro and Karma. Karma giggled again.

"…Manny?"

"Because I pulled it out of Jimmy's manifold. Poor thing's scared half to death," he said. Angie cooed and spoke gently, trying to remove the cat from Taro's head, but had no luck. "Wow, Manny's really stuck on there. Huh. Well, Taro, I guess you've got a new best friend."

Taro's eyes widened. "What? No! Get this thing off of me!" He tugged and pulled on the frightened kitten, which only screeched and dug its claws deeper into his scalp. "Ow! Get it off! Get it off!!"

Soon enough, Tezla's voice blared over the PA system that a racing realm was about to be opened and Taro finally gave up. He had no choice but to take the kitten with him.

Banjee snickered when he got to his car. "Ah, Taro, you got a little something…" he said, indicating the top of his head. Taro only glared.

Tezla watched the monitors in the control room and tried to ignore the bothersome interns Fury had demanded he include. Their credentials were excellent. Each had studied his work extensively and had degrees in every field from advanced robotics to quantum physics. Some were in fact certified by the think tank at the Baxter Building, having worked along Reed Richards and Sue Storm. But all of their combined intelligence did nothing to ease Dr. Tezla's mind. Dedicated to their work as they were, there was still a distinct possibility one of them could be a spy.

He liked to keep his work to himself; that was just how he was. And, really, who wanted a bunch of punk kids crowding their laboratory? His research was progressing just fine when he wasn't being targeted by assassins, and that wasn't happening too often anyway. Tezla just wanted to watch the numbers and figure things out on his own, not baby-sit a handful of grad-student underlings.

But, alas; you use what you have to work with.

"The symbol for the racing realm you've chosen doesn't appear anywhere in the data we were given." A bright eyed girl posed the query to Tezla; eager to learn, she had her clipboard at the ready.

"Fern, right?" When she did not correct him, Dr. Tezla assumed he had used the correct name. "The data you were supplied by SHIELD only includes the realms human drivers have already been through. In addition to these, there were several realms the Drones completed before any humans became involved. That's why the notes didn't cover it."

"Then which realm is this, Dr. Tezla?"

He brought up his own data on the monitors. "The Realm of Eternal Night," he said in a sinister way. "According to data recovered from the Racing Drones headquarters, and the inscriptions in the Monument and Ruins Realms, the Realm of Eternal Night is in a time stasis that keeps the moon perpetually full. The fog is thick, the roads are slick, and the creatures that inhabit it are purportedly the most vicious of any realm."

Fern cringed. "Glad I'm safe here in the lab."

Indeed the live feed from the drivers' onboard cameras showed the Realm of Eternal Night to much resemble Transylvania in any Dracula film, complete with creepy decrepit castles. Tezla said nothing, but he fully agreed with Fern the intern.

Night Prowler roared through the portal first, and Taro was surprised to see Morrison the car closest to his tail. But surely that would soon end.

In the driver's seat of Morrison, Angie slowed down gently to get a feel for the road's moist conditions. He flicked on his high beams and vaguely wondered if he was hallucinating as Porkchop Riggs and the Wheeler twins passed him by. He got an ominous feeling as something let out a howl into the night.

A three-way fork in the road was coming up. Angie was thinking he should turn right, but a little hissing voice laughed and he heard wings again. He shrugged. "A reasonable enough request." Angie pulled a hard left and followed Taro Kitano.

Taro's view flicked briefly to his rearview mirror. Angie was catching up to him. Taro up shifted as he went into a curve, but Angie swung around and passed him by in the outside of the turn. Taro was seriously annoyed. He scowled and muscled his car against the van, leaving scratches against the psychedelic mural.

"Ack! My paint, you jerk!" Angie leaned into his wheel and really put it to Taro's vehicle. While Night Prowler was a monster of a muscle car, it was little match for Morrison's engine power. Angie didn't just keep the van for storage capacity—he'd worked on that baby's inner machinations until she was a proud vessel worthy of the Lost Boys. And what's more, Morrison was really big.

Taro's car ground against the guard rail and the kitten hiding under the passenger seat cried pitifully. Obviously, aggression wasn't going to work. He'd have to out-maneuver the drummer, but how tough could that be? He had years more of experience, his car was smaller and seemingly more agile, and Angie had never driven in a realm before.

But Taro would learn soon enough not to underestimate a crazy person.

The cold fog bit against Mel's legs and she made a mental note never to ride her motorcycle in a skirt. In the LA summer it was okay but this icy moisture in the air was whipping past her at close to a hundred and twenty miles per hour and it was really cold!

Bemused laughter came over the comm link in her helmet from several different cars and drivers.

"I see London, I see France," a voice lilted in a sing-song tone. She recognized it as Banjee Castillo. Great. Now her skirt was flapping up and everyone could see her panties. This was made all the worse by the fact that Mel had been planning to surprise her boyfriend after the party in the desert and what she wore was red and frilly.

"Oo lala," Dan teased over the line. "She's gonna put you through your paces tonight! Markie, you stud."

"Hey! You better watch it, Dresden!"

"Oh, I'm watching, all right. And I like what I see. Yowza!" Dan chuckled. He knew it was cruel to tease Mel like this, but how could he resist when she made such an easy target? Really, it was the girl's own fault—who in their right mind wore a skirt on a motorcycle?

A howl was just then let loose into the brisk night air. Dan's eyes flitted into the forest on his left for only a moment. Something was running alongside their cars in the woods. Lots of somethings, actually…big, furry somethings.

Mel screamed as a big wolf-like creature leapt from the trees onto the hood of Wylde's car. Thinking fast, she extended her claws and leaned her motorcycle closer to Demonizer. With a snarl, she ripped into the side of the realm beast. It howled in pain. Wylde drove on, and Mel followed.

"Kitten!"

"I'm fine, Markie. Just hit the Nitrox!"

The wolf thing was not dead, but terribly wounded. Its blood spilled on the road, and as it let loose another spine-chilling howl, a chorus rose up from the woods to join it.

"Aw, man, it's a whole pack!"

Eight gigantic wolf-things ran ahead past their fallen comrade. Even as the vehicles thundered along at incredible speeds, the beasts caught up rather quickly. Paws the size of tractor tires pounded along the track after the drivers, hammering down on the pavement below. Wylde actually allowed Tork, Banjee, Alec, Vert, Mikki and Nona to pass him.

"I'll help run interference," he said over the link. "Just go! We'll hold 'em off."

But in all the confusion, Dan fell to the back of the line. The wolves were on his trail, snarling and snapping their massive jaws at his bumper. Dan said a Hail Mary and used his Nitrox booster, but it did him little good. An enormous paw slammed down on his back window and his car spun out of control and went over the guardrail.

Now on the forest floor, Dan's car slammed into a tree. His head hit the steering column and he grunted in pain. Dan relaxed and did a quick check of his faculties; thankfully, he seemed uninjured. But his car would not start, and he could hear the wolves behind him. They moved slowly now, closing in on their disabled prey, circling and snapping their teeth.

The tree opened its eyes and glowered at Dan, making a sound strikingly similar to human laughter. Long, twisted roots smashed through his windshield and Dan screamed. The roots wrapped around his waist and pulled him out.

"Dan!" Markie called out. "Dan, what's happening?"

Dan choked as the tree roots tightened around his throat. Things were getting darker. The moon and stars began to fade from his vision.

"We're coming for you, Dan! Hold on!"

Dan stopped struggling against the roots. He just had no fight left in him. So tired… But the evil trees loosened their grip and he inhaled deeply. Dan was wide awake now that he could breathe again. But why hadn't the evil trees killed him?

The answer came in the form of a wolf; he was even larger than the rest and missing an eye. Battle scars ran through his blue-grey fur, and he snarled and whined at the tree. The tree, in turn, made sounds at the wolf; after a moment, the evil tree dropped Dan to the ground, whereupon the alpha male allowed the three smallest wolves first dibs. The little wolflings must have been just pups to receive such a courtesy.

Dan backpedaled away, silent for his extreme fear. This was probably going to hurt. A lot.

Dropkick rumbled over the top of the hill, followed by Demonizer. Mel darted in and around the wolves' feet, clawing at ankles. Wylde rammed into the smallest wolf just as its teeth were scissoring through Dan's washboard abs.

The giant wolf cub was knocked aside, a mouthful of Dan still clutched in its jaws. Dan had pulled away and rolled free for the price of a piece of hisself. Wylde threw open the passenger door.

"Hurry up!" he hissed.

Dan clamored into the front seat, heart pounding double time. Wylde drove off before he even got his seatbelt on.

After they finally got away, Wylde asked if Dan was alright. He glanced in the older driver's direction. "Man, you're bleeding all over the place! I'm hitting the EDR."

Dan grabbed Wylde's hand, and he looked at the injured man in surprise. Dan Dresden was pale, sweaty, and dazed, but on his face was an expression of resolve.

"Finish the race, Markie," he croaked.

"Dan, you're hurt. You need—"

"I need you to finish the race for me, Markie." Dan coughed a few times, and his hand came away bloody. "Call it a last request…"

"Dan, I'm worried about you," said Markie.

"Isn't your girlfriend still back with those things?"

"Yeah, but she has mutant super powers." Grudgingly, he saw Dan's side. "Fine, just-just keep pressure on your wound. There's a blanket under the seat."

There was honking behind them—Mel pulled alongside Demonizer on her motorcycle.

"Did they follow you?"

"Kinda hard to run when someone's severed your tendons. How's Dan?"

"Lousy. I want to hit the EDR, but--?"

"Finish. The. Race. Please, Markie, do that for me."

Though concerned for Dan, Mel respected his wishes. "You heard him, Markie. You'll just have to make it out of here fast enough to make sure he's okay."

Wylde smirked regretfully and put the pedal to the metal.

A/N: I so hope someone actually reads this. Please! Pretty please with sugar on top!! I'm so lonely...