Kaelen smiled, a thin, sharp thing. “Let him bring his bonfire. I’ll show him the difference between heat and smoke.”
Hammer shot ahead, his pod leaving a trail of searing orange plasma. The crowd roared. But Kaelen held back, drifting into the slipstream of the middle pack. He wasn't racing them. He was reading the air. x force smoking the competition
He walked away, leaving Hammer sputtering in the haze. Behind him, the scoreboard flickered to a final message: Kaelen smiled, a thin, sharp thing
The air in the warehouse hung thick with ozone and the ghost of burnt rubber. Neon lines, pulsing with unstable energy, traced the contours of the sleek, black pods. This was the "X-Force," the world’s first neural-draft racing league, and tonight, the competition wasn't just going to be beaten. It was going to be smoked. The crowd roared
“His core is destabilizing,” Jinx said. “He’s cooking himself.”
Post-race, in the pits, Hammer stormed over, his racing suit singed, his face purple. “You didn’t beat me! You just hid and let me destroy myself!”