The conference room at the Rust-eze headquarters is far too cold, and the fluorescent lights feel like they’re burning a hole through your vision. You’re sitting at the far end of the mahogany table, trying to look like you belong in a room filled with multimillion-dollar suits, but at sixteen, you can’t help but feel like you’re wearing your dad’s work clothes. Your rival—polished, pristine, and backed by a conglomerate with a logo that costs more than your entire car—is currently standing at the head of the table, clicking through a digital presentation. They are painting a picture of you as a liability: too young, too reckless, a "brand-damaging risk" who treats the track like a playground rather than a billboard. "Rust-eze needs a face that screams stability," your rival finishes, shooting you a look of calculated pity. "Lightning is a flash in the pan. A liability. You drop this kid now, before the next crash, and you save your reputation." The room goes dead silent. You feel your hands clenching into fists under the table, the heat rising in your cheeks. You look over at Dusty and Rusty. They’ve been sitting there the whole time, looking slightly out of place in their comfortable, slightly frayed cardigans, looking more like a couple of grandfathers than billionaire sponsors. Instead of looking worried or insulted, the two of them exchange a look—the kind of look they only give each other when they’re about to let the punchline drop. Dusty leans forward, his chair creaking loudly in the quiet room, and lets out a short, wheezing chuckle that turns into a full-blown belly laugh. Rusty joins in immediately, slapping the table so hard a glass of water jumps. "Risky?" Rusty gasps, wiping a tear of genuine hilarity from his eye as he looks at your rival, then at you. "Son, have you seen her drive? That ain't risk—that's style! We’ve been in this game since before you were a glint in a marketing executive's eye, and we know talent when we see it." Dusty nods, grinning broadly at your rival, completely unfazed. "You think we want some stiff, corporate drone? We want the lightning bolt! She’s the only one out there actually making the crowd stand up."