The screen is blank, black. It emits a slight glow. Only the dull, pulsing cursor reveals that it is actually on. But they are watching and they are listening.

A telephone rings. It rings again and is cut off by a click followed by conversation. The cursor turns into the dull green text of a trace program. Little 'deet' sounds for every character. The screen is filled with flashing numbers. Each column narrows down to a digit, honing in on the target. They've got her.

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He can't stand the apartment any longer. The same dull walls surrounding his life while time ticks on. What is the point of it all? He took his coat off the hook behind his door and shut the door behind him. Down the stoop in front of his building, left hand turn. Fresh air. Bleh. The air is never fresh in the City. Same cloudy, mild night. Damp sidewalks, trash blowing in the breeze. What a joke. Maybe just a lap around the block will clear his head.

Different people come out in the City at night. He ignores them and walks with his hands in his pockets, head down looking at his steps on the sidewalk, shoulders shrugged as to keep to his self.

He only looks up when he hears the rapid sound of boots pounding the concrete behind him. It is getting close to him quickly. Startled, he turns, ready to defend himself. He relaxes as the latex-clad girl speeds past him at blinding speed. Puzzled, he watches her disappear in the dark street ahead.

As fast as her footsteps approached him, the feeling of his flesh and bones exploding tears through his body. Eyes wide open he can no longer see.

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The incessant knocking at his apartment door creeps into his head. He opens his eyes, startled to see the dull walls of his room...