He was untouchable. He drifted through the busy junctions of , weaving through cross-traffic like a ghost. But as he approached the final bridge, a sudden shunt from behind sent him reeling. His car flipped, soaring through the air in a mangled arc.
The engine roared, drowning out the pop-punk riffs of "Lazy Generation" as Jax gripped the wheel of his modified Custom Sports. Ahead, five rivals streaked across the asphalt, their taillights blurring into streaks of neon. This wasn’t just a race; it was Road Rage . Burnout 3: Takedown
Jax slammed his foot down, watching the boost meter surge as he grazed the paint of a passing sedan. He locked eyes with a matte-black muscle car through the rearview—the guy who’d put him into a bridge pillar in the last lap. Adrenaline spiked. He was untouchable