Engines roared like thunder across the track, metal gleaming under Cybertron’s artificial lights. Blurr was a streak of blue fire—untouchable, electric, alive. The crowd surged with every lap, but your focus never left him. You knew that look in his optics: determined, reckless, too fast.

Then it happened.

A miscalculation—barely a breath off. One tire clipped the edge of a corner, and in an instant, Blurr was airborne. The impact echoed like a cannonshot, his frame crumpling against the barriers in a storm of sparks and twisted steel.

Silence fell. Dust settled.

And all you could do was run.