Dantés — Mercedes

Pascal doesn’t look up from the sparking skull of a hydrogen fuel cell. “Scrapped. Vasseur turned it into a trophy. Parks it in front of his tower.”

“Get up, Laurent. I’m giving you a head start. Three blocks. Then I come for you. And I am very fast.” mercedes dantés

As he scrambles into the dark, you look back at Le Comte , idling patiently on the cracked asphalt. Your father’s motto is etched into the dashboard in faded gold leaf: Pascal doesn’t look up from the sparking skull

You are the .

He crashes into a pillar of ancient concrete. His silent needle crumples like a poisoned flower. Fuel cells rupture, but they don’t burn. They just hiss and freeze. Parks it in front of his tower

“Mercedes… please. The Council made me—”

It was a classic betrayal. Laurent Vasseur, your father’s trusted maître d’armes , sold the family to the Corporate Council. The evidence was flawless: a ghost in the drive-by-wire system, a trail of credits leading to your personal ledger, and a grainy vid of your car, a custom 300 SL Gullwing, idling outside the Council’s treasury vault the night it bled liquid gold.