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"You can't save it," the kid stammered. "The first guy who showed up said it’s a total loss. He wouldn't even touch it."

The kid stared at his car, then at the towering silhouette of Elias’s truck. "How much do I owe you?" "You can't save it," the kid stammered

Thirty minutes later, he was staring into the abyss. A lime-green Aventador was balanced precariously on a jagged limestone shelf, forty feet above a drop that ended in jagged pines. The owner, a kid in a tailored suit who looked like he’d never seen dirt before, was pacing the shoulder. "How much do I owe you

The radio crackled. "Elias? We got a Code Red on Blackwood Pass. High-end sportscar slid off the ridge. Driver’s out, but the car is hanging by a prayer." The radio crackled

Elias wiped a smear of grease from his forehead and climbed back into the cab. "You already paid for the 'Better' service, kid. Next time, keep your eyes on the road and off your phone."

As Elias drove away, the heavy rumble of The Undertaker echoed through the canyon—the sound of a job done right when everyone else said it was impossible.

Elias moved with surgical precision. He didn't just back up; he anchored The Undertaker into the bedrock using hydraulic spikes. He deployed the telescopic boom, extending it like a giant metallic finger over the ravine. While the wind howled, Elias used a remote drone-link to guide his secondary lines under the Aventador’s chassis.