X Force Smoking The Competition -

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!”

He let Specter sink into it. The world went monochrome. He wasn't driving. He was a wisp, a curl of exhaust, finding the cracks in reality. x force smoking the competition

As the pods lined up, Kaelen closed his eyes. He didn’t see the other drivers. He saw their energy signatures: hot, sputtering flames. Hammer’s was a blazing sun, all brute force. Another driver, a woman called Static, was a crackling storm. But Kaelen’s own signature? It was cool, silver, and dense. Smoke. Post-race, in the pits, Hammer stormed over, his

Lap two. The “Maelstrom,” a chamber of spinning magnetic fields. Drivers slammed into each other, sparks flying. Static’s storm shorted out. Another driver spun into a wall. Hammer plowed through, using raw power. Kaelen drifted, letting the magnetic currents carry him. He wasn't fighting the track. He was smoking it—infiltrating its rhythms. The world went monochrome

Lap three. The “Phantom Alley.” A stretch where the track's old fusion core bled unstable energy, creating duplicate holographic paths. Most drivers slowed, confused. Hammer roared ahead, picking a random lane, his confidence blinding him.

And for the first time, no one argued with the headline.