This track originally was released on my last EP as Driven.

I've since remastered it, changed it up (a lot) and added a couple of extra synths. It's now at this stage of it's life, and I'm sure it will be changed more before the final release on the full length album - but so far, I am quite happy with the direction that it is headed. I'm providing it here in it current form because a) I want to, and b) I want others to be able to use this for whatever flash submissions that they may care to - because - I at least - think that it has potential to be used in SOMETHING...

That said, PLEASE leave criticsm and reviews. If I'm doing something wrong, I'd love to know what, and if I'm doing something right - well, I'd love to know that too =)

Now - for the obligatory story:

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The chase never gets old. He feeds off of the adrenaline that courses through his veins, organic nitrous feeding his muscles with a fire, allowing him to push further, drive harder, run stronger and live forever - if only in the tales and myths of future generations. Deftly he maneuvers, leaping from ledge to precipice, leaving all but the most determined of his pursuers wheezing in his wake.

Another job complete, another building falls. The echoes of the blast still ring sharp in the humid summer air, and he knows that it's only a matter of time before the powers that be announce to the sheep that it was an accident of some rediculous magnitude. His mind racing faster than his augmented legs, he tries to imagine what foolish stories the government will concoct for this, his latest masterpiece. Would it be another "freak ventilation accident?" Or would they attempt for something more creative - like claiming that the building was scheduled for demolition, but that the government had forgotten to announce it to the people, including the fat pigs that were enjoying their hedonistic rituals inside while the people starved outside when it fell? No - they had used that already. They were running out of excuses, the monuments of fallen democracy were themselves crumbling and it was he who was responsible.

He reaches to his belt, and releases two small spheres to the rooftop behind him. With a soft pop they billow choking clouds of nanite dust - the pursuers would not make it much further beyond the millions of tiny, murderous bots - programmed to dissolve anyone that came within their range over a period of five minutes.

He was free.

They hadn't had time to scramble any craft to pursue him this time, his return home would be far less eventful than he had hoped, but he ran on nonetheless, back to the nerve center of this entire operation, to prepare, to plan, and to continue the good fight against those who had turned on their own kind for nothing more than the want of money and power.

He was free.

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Ok - it's not as good a story as some of them - but do you have any idea how hard it is to write with music this fast playing?

~ /A\V/