The beast sat idling beneath him: the NM 115. It wasn't a pretty car by modern standards. It lacked the curves of a 90’s GT racer or the aggressive aerodynamics of a JDM icon. It was boxy, utilitarian, a stubborn slab of metal that looked more at home in a construction site than on a mountain pass. But Glossmen knew better. He knew that under the faded teal hood lay a diesel engine that had been twisted, tuned, and torqued into something demonic. It was the kind of power that didn't scream—it roared, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the teeth of anyone standing too close.