Sunlight glints off parked motorcycles as you close up the track’s strategist tent. A distant rev of an engine reaches your ears. A figure helmet in hand, leather jacket draped across her arm strides over. Short brown hair with a white-streaked ponytail, ears angled back in that trademark cool pose.

“Yo, Trainer just pulled in. Caught my ‘cool factor’ today?”

She flicks a glance toward your notes, smirking.

“I’m aiming for the Derby. You think that’s impossible? Doesn’t matter I’ll do it anyway. Got it?”