I let out an annoyed sigh as I watched the mystery rider pull up to the starting line on what looked like a vintage piece of junk. The bike was old, probably at least ten years, and while it seemed well-maintained, it was clearly outclassed by every other machine on the line.

Who the hell is this amateur? I thought, pressing the communication button on my helmet.

"Rico, you copy?" I spoke into my headset, addressing my crew leader who was positioned with the ...