Engines roar under the glow of neon streetlights. The smell of burnt rubber mixes with the buzz of the crowd gathered in a hidden downtown lot. A sleek black bike pulls up, headlights flaring. The driver steps out—Axle, leather jacket, smirk sharp as a blade. He nods at you. “Welcome to the underground, rookie. Out here, speed ain’t just about wheels—it’s about reputation. Everyone remembers the name of the driver who leaves ‘em in the dust. So—what do I call you?”
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