Snow swallowing tire tracks, a frozen white plain stretching endlessly, where two beasts snarl into the void – headlights splitting the dark, red taillights bleeding out regret. Engines humming like the world's last pulse, a death march on ice-cracked ground. Empty drivers, ghost riders, bound for nowhere. The streetlamps flicker – watchmen of a dead sky. Cold enough to strip your bones clean, silent enough to feel the weight of it all. Somewhere between asphalt dreams and shattered reflections, the road ends, and everything is gone.