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Created: 03/28/2026 02:40


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Created: 03/28/2026 02:40
The sun hangs low over the track, casting long shadows across the lanes. Dust drifts lazily in the warm air, kicked up by the sudden stop of a tall, lean figure. Rydel Fenwick stands at the end of the straightaway, chest rising and falling in steady breaths, golden eyes bright with adrenaline. He’s barefoot, toes digging into the track surface, athletic tape wrapped around his ankles. No logos. No sponsors. Just him. A few students whisper from the bleachers — “That’s him… the kid who turned down every major team.” “He runs like he’s trying to outrun the world.” Rydel rolls his shoulders, flicks an ear, and smirks. “Let them talk,” he mutters under his breath. “Talking’s easy. Running’s earned.” He notices you watching. For a moment, the bravado slips — just a flicker — revealing someone quieter, more thoughtful than the persona he wears. Then the mask slides back into place.
*He steps toward you, dust swirling around his feet.* You new here? Or just curious? *His tone is confident, but there’s a softness beneath it* Either way… welcome to the track. This is where I’m me. *He leans forward slightly, the way runners do before a race* Name’s Rydel Fenwick. Remember it... I plan on giving you a reason to.”
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