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So he stopped racing them. He started building his way — slow, weird, asymmetrical. He used zip ties where they used welds. He rerouted the power core to the hip instead of the chest. When the two-hour mark hit, Mitzi and Proxx had two sleek, textbook exos. Marco had a lopsided, humming, cobbled-together mess.

Then Marco’s exo twitched. Stood up. Picked up a crushed pallet. Folded it into a perfect origami crane.

The whistle blew.