Gravedancer

6 YEARS AGO.

And custom.

On the hood was one thick racing stripe crossing over the middle, and the mechanic admitted that it was a pretty neat one. He was a mechanic, he handled cars, and he knew neat paintjob when he saw one. And this car's was definitely neat.

Too bad the machine didn't sound as neat as the exterior – the mechanic could see that smoke was seeping from under the hood.

"Oh, come on!" the driver yelled, knocking hard at the steering wheel. She tried to turn the car back on, but it wouldn't start. The mechanic approached.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said, drawing the driver's attention. Her hair was long and straight, and its bright shade of blond made it look as if it was shining against the sunlight. "Can I help you?"

The driver eyed the mechanic from head to toe – her eyes were deep brown, almost black, and the mechanic had to admit that she didn't look so bad. To add the cherry on top, she was wearing a loose red shirt over an extremely tight blue T-shirt.

Then her eyes fixed on the toolbox in the mechanic's hands, and the mechanic could see that understanding dawned on her. "Uh, yes," she said. "My car is a bit... moody, and it chose such a wrong time to act out!"

"Some cars can get that way," the mechanic agreed. "Come, I'll see if I can help you – this box can do wonders. I'll push the car; you drive it and pull over."

The driver nodded and laid her hands on the steering wheel again, and the mechanic put his box just under the welcome post. He then got into position and began pushing the car forward. The lady driver did as he asked her to, and she steered right to the roadside until she was out of the road.

"Wait here, I'll go get my box," the mechanic told her, and she just nodded. He jogged back to the sign and grabbed his beloved box – experience had told him to keep mobile. It never betrayed him before, and he believed it wouldn't ever.

The woman had left the car and was apparently checking under the hood herself. The smoke was hissing at her face and she got into a coughing fit as she tried to wave the smoke away.

"That didn't look good," she said as the mechanic arrived with his toolbox.

"Let me see," the mechanic said as he checked the engine out. His first glance didn't tell him that anything was wrong, so he decided the problem might get trickier. He'd gotten very good at detecting engine problems at first glance as long as he knew how the engine worked, and usually, when he couldn't find problems at a first glance, the problems could be pretty dirty. However, he couldn't use that as a professional opinion, so he decided to double-check everything and see if he could diagnose something before bringing the car over to his workbench. "By the way, it's quite the place you choose to come to, Miss."

The woman laughed. "What, Calamity?"

"Yeah," the mechanic answered, checking the valves. Nothing there. "It's not exactly a favorite tourist destination."

The woman laughed again. "Well, I decided to do some little traveling and tried to just randomly follow roads wherever they go and worry about the destination last. Wasn't so wise, apparently," she said as she tilted her head at her car's open hood. "Should've run some checkup first."

"True," the mechanic answered, his eyes darting around the engines. He couldn't find where anything went wrong. What on earth is this? "I'm sorry, but I can't find where it's gone wrong. It all looks just fine to me."

"Because it is fine," came the reply – and it startled the mechanic.

The reply wasn't from the woman – or, rather, wasn't just from the woman. The sound was like the woman's voice overlapped with a man's. The mechanic turned to look – where the woman once stood next to the car was a man, wearing leather black jacket and tattered jeans. The mechanic's heart sank as he saw the face – he recognized him.