Gas Guzzlers Extreme -

I looked at my bank display on my wrist. Forty-eight thousand. I was just short.

I ignored it all and focused on the radar. I needed to get to the front of the pack before the pack tore me to pieces. Gas Guzzlers Extreme

I let Bone-Crusher get close enough to smell his burning rubber. Just as his spiked bumper was about to make contact, I pulled the lever. The miniguns roared, spitting a wall of lead directly into his grille. Smoke erupted from his hood, and he swerved hard, smashing face-first into a concrete bridge support at eighty miles per hour. I looked at my bank display on my wrist

Welcome to the Glacier arena. This was not a race for pink slips or trophies. This was Gas Guzzlers Extreme, where the fuel was high-octane and the life expectancy was lower than my ride's suspension. I ignored it all and focused on the radar