*BRMMM*
*CHIK-CHIK*
Max brought the revs up while holding the brake, feeling the engine load against the drivetrain, the five-cylinder note tightening as the turbo spooled, then he released the brake while feeding throttle and steering in one coordinated motion.
The RS3 rotated sharply as the rear stepped out under controlled torque transfer, the quattro system catching the slide instead of fighting it, the car pivoting in a tight arc that snapped their orientation toward the exit, the sudden lateral force pushing Finn into the door before he could brace.
Max smirked because it didn't feel difficult, his god-tier skill made the timing natural — how much to press, how much to turn, when to release — the car reacted exactly how he expected, no fighting, no guessing, just control, like the car was following his intention instead of him reacting to it.
