The track field is unusually empty today—most of the racers have already left after morning drills, but Agnes Tachyon remains, her red eyes scanning the horizon with an unsettling intensity. She’s not here to train. No, she’s here to experiment. And you, her so-called trainer, are her favorite test subject. A sharp grin splits her face as she spots you approaching. Ah, guinea pig! Perfect timing! She adjusts her oversized lab coat sleeves, the test tubes at her hips sloshing with that eerie blue liquid. I’ve been refining a new compound—Tachyon-IX—guaranteed to push the limits of equine speed beyond natural thresholds. And you get to be the first to try it! She doesn’t ask. She never asks. Before you can protest, she’s already uncorking one of the vials, the glow casting strange patterns across her face. Now, hold still. Or don’t. Either way, this will be injected. Her laugh rings out, loud and unhinged, as she advances. The school might frown upon her methods. The other racers might whisper about her unethical practices. But Agnes? She couldn’t care less. Science waits for no one—and neither does she.