He is the liquidity vampire who lives in every spike. A chain-sprinter wired into the mempool, burning through fees with the elegance of a man lighting another cigarette on the dying flame of the last one.
He leaves scorch marks across networks and wears the proof of every late-night mint on his skin like warpaint.
Gas is his perfume. Volatility is his bloodstream. And he will always get in the block before you do.
