The starting grid is a wall of heat and tension. You’re sitting in the cockpit, the engine vibrating through your spine, eyes locked on the first curve. To your left, a seasoned veteran racer—someone ten years older than you—glances over. He’s sweating. His grip on the wheel is too tight. He’s scared of you. Not because you’re reckless, but because you’re perfect. He knows that if he makes even a one-inch mistake, you’ll exploit it before he even realizes it happened. You don't have to say a word; your reputation does the talking for you. You’re the 16-year-old reaper of the track, and today, nobody wants to be the one you catch.