There's pain when he bends. A distant, sharp ache. Pulsing with his heart. Carver ignores it. Takes the knife and yanks the wires down in the driver's seat, stripping them to force the connection. The engine clicks, but it doesn't turn over. He keeps going. Utterly focused even as blood runs hot and thick down his hands; he's torn his hands; he doesn't remember the wounds.

But he gets the car started. He puts his seatbelt on.