Mercedes Dantés: __hot__

Your face is new. A “gift” from the prison’s medic—sharp cheekbones, a jaw like a chisel, eyes the color of leaded fuel. You wear a coat woven from Kevlar and asbestos, stitched with the logos of a hundred dead racing teams. Underneath, your titanium legs hum with a low, predatory frequency.

You are .

“Das Beste oder nichts.”

And then, they framed you.

“Get up, Laurent. I’m giving you a head start. Three blocks. Then I come for you. And I am very fast.” mercedes dantés

“No, Laurent,” you reply, your voice calm as a sealed bearing. “This is downshifting .” Your face is new