Blood on the Asphalt biker
She didn't wear bulky armor like the Paladins or heavy leather like Jax; she wore lightweight, ballistic-weave synthetics designed for absolute mobility.
Lena revved her engine, the custom Origin-Code exhaust spitting a tight, controlled stream of blue fire.
"I used to run the lower levels of Coldwater blindfolded," Lena snarled, a wicked grin on her face. "These pristine streets are practically a runway. Let me carve the path, King."
Dax looked at the underground biker, recognizing the same reckless speed-demon instinct that beat in his own chest.
"Take the point, Lena," Dax commanded. "Wolves! Revers! Form a slipstream wedge behind her! We do not stop moving until we hit that Spire!"