My Formula 1 System

"...P5, Dani Walding...!"

"...P4, Ansel Hahn...!'

"...P3, Miles Bellingham...!"

"WOOOOH!"

"...P2, Max Addams...!"

"WOOOOH!"

"...Pole Position, Luca Rennick...!"

"WOOOOH!"

Luca picked up his innerwear first, slipping it onto his form. The fabric was said to be fire-resistant and designed to fit tightly to the wearer's body.

Next came the main gear, neatly arranged on the bench just as he always insisted. He held it up for a moment, tracing the embroidered Trampos logo on the chest with his thumb before stepping into it. The fabric hissed softly as he pulled it over his legs and zipped it up. A few crew members passed by, offering short greetings as they moved to the other room to carry out their tasks.

From that same room, Ansel emerged, already dressed up save for his headsock. As usual, he muttered some words to Luca before settling onto one of the benches, staring endlessly at a random spot.

Luca swallowed his incoming words and decided to grant him his peace and quiet. He reached for his gloves and pulled each one on tightly. Taking occasional glances at Ansel, he flexed his fingers to test the grip of the gloves, ensuring zero discomfort.

Ansel remained seated, his balaclava tightly gripped in his palms as he performed his ritual of recollecting his thoughts before the race. When he felt he was ready, he quickly slid the headsock over his head and adjusted it carefully. Luca noticed the glimmer in his bright eyes, a look that radiated pure determination and nothing else.

Animatedly, Luca imitated Ansel, pulling his own head into the black balaclava. He made sure the ends were tucked comfortably under his suit's thick collars. For good measure, he gave himself a glance in the mirror. Sure enough, he looked like a seasoned driver.

A set of footsteps entered the room. Luca instantly recognized the purpose behind their brisk pace and knew it was more than just crew members. Spinning around, he could see Ms. Vallotton and Colt.

"Anything else to tell?" Luca asked.

"Nothing at all," Ms. Vallotton replied, studying Luca and Ansel briefly. "Lights out in fifteen. Get to the garage," she said, leaving as quickly as she had come.

Luca let out a deep, warm breath before grabbing his helmet to leave. Stopping at the door, he looked back at Ansel. "Han? It's fifteen minutes till lights out. C'mon."

For Ansel, there was still a minute left in his ritual of silence. Luca stood there patiently, waiting until his teammate finally rose to his feet and grabbed his #43-brandished helmet. "Let's go," Ansel muttered, motioning toward the door.

The two pushed through and made a turn toward the escalator. After a short ride down, they arrived at the garage, which was bustling with activity as always before the starting grid.

As the two drivers approached the center of attention, Luca's eyes moved to his #21 Trampos Racing machine. It looked ready, and his System confirmed it was in optimal condition for a win.

"...This is a reminder: all non-essential personnel must vacate the pit lane in the next three minutes..."

Luca and Ansel donned their helmets, accepting handshakes and pats from the team. Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz didn't need to repeat their instructions—every word could easily replay in Luca's mind as he focused on victory.

With him starting on pole, he knew he might as well define the race's outcome if he just started well and watched for the first corner right after the grid.

"...Reminder to drivers: maintain your speed limit in the pit lane during grid setup..."

After ensuring all straps were tightly secured and every button was in place, the team crew guided their drivers into their single-seaters.

"Grid time!" Ms. Vallotton announced the obvious, signaling that the day's job in the garage, pit lane, telemetry room, and paddock had officially begun.

[SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]

[SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]

[Host is now synched with Dallara (F2 04)]

Alright, I'm at pole. I AM AT POLE. Luca repeated it three more times to let it sink in. He had no option but to secure a second consecutive F2 victory.

The Hungaroring was stunning. The view from the asphalt, with the far grandstands arcing toward the sky, was surreal. They looked like walls closing in, stacked with flags from different nations. From his vantage point, he could see the sun slowly setting into the horizon, casting an ethereal orange glow through the gloomy evening sky.

"...the marshals are waving them to place. Pole Position. The target. No safety net. That's Luca Rennick today..."

Luca exhaled as his car stopped at the front-most grid box and he was waved in affirmation. The golden rays of the setting sun caught his visors, making him wonder if the Hungaro Ring wanted to test him today. He steadied his hands on the wheel as his SomberCore hummed to life, ready for action.

"...P10, Renaud Bozonnet...!"

"...P9, Peter De Klerk...!'

"...P8, Vlad Volyinski...!"

"...P7, Oliver Kristensen...!"

"...P6, Albert Derstappen...!"

Once all the cars were in place, it took a moment before the first red light came on. Before then, Luca took the time to assess his surroundings and the atmosphere of starting on pole.

First, he caught glimpses of the cars lining up behind him through his side mirrors. They were his predators now, and he was the prey every one of them had their eyes on.

Second, the track ahead stretched like a blank slate—the perfect racing line he'd visualized during countless hours of simulation and study now lay waiting for him to bring it to life. He would lead these hungry engines into the first lap.

**We're set for a clean getaway. 10 seconds to lights. This is your moment. Eyes forward, full focus**

"10-4, let's go," Luca replied just as the first light came on.

"...thirty elite drivers battling for points. Fifth light on... and it's lights out for the F2 Hungarian Grand Prix!"

[Grid Launch +1]

"...Luca Rennick gets a decent start, but Max Addams is right there with him! Trampos hammers into the lead into Turn 1 with an impressive start, but Velocità's Addams is trying again..."

[Host is participating in an Official Race]

[ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]

[DATA COLLECTED]

[DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:

-Car Speed: 120 km/h

-Heart Rate: 110 bpm

-Operational Status: 90% (Good)

-Breathing: Slightly Elevated

-Distance covered: 350m

-Time: 9 sec ]

As soon as the lights went out, Luca's engine was pushed to accelerate up to 200 km/h in order to escape the snapping jaws of Max Addams. Before hitting the first turn, he deftly valued his figures to meet the system's recommendation, Max Addams rounding the first bend with him.

[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]

Luca tilted his wheel as the track transitioned to the second right turn. Max Addams cut in to his side, forcing him to drive over the curbs. Luca was able to keep traction, the track transitioning back to the left to give him the advantage.

[2nd Position closing in]

[3rd Position closing in]

[Host has unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent]

Well, this is not what I expected from a pole, Luca thought as he managed to stay ahead. Max Addams attempted once again from Turn 4. He had to weave like crazy over the turns because Addams would be faster with his slipstream, and Miles, behind, even faster.

[Straightaway ahead]

[2nd Position closing in]

[3rd Position closing in]

The Straightaway was 800 meters, and Luca knew that. Max Addams would surely attempt DRS, and it was his job to fend that off. The crowd roared in approval as the last set of the early turns were exhausted by the pack leaders, all cars grazing off the sand at the track's edge in an attempt for a clean exit.

"...and Luca Rennick doesn't look strong ahead as they go into the straight!"

"...Max Addams moving faster... and look at that, they almost touched!"

Luca swerved to the edge enough to avoid that. His car lost a certain momentum, but it was better than losing a tire and getting a DNF. However, he was glad Max corrected his line too, both not risking points for just an early lead.

Miles, rather, had a clean outer lane on the straight. With his rear opened, Miles Bellingham zipped beside Max Addams, claiming P2. His speed was enough to take P1 from Luca, but the next set of turns approached. And with Luca at that edge he took earlier, Luca made the first turn, maintaining P1.

"...wonderful opening lap! Squadra Corse Jnr has pushed themselves one-up the leaderboard!"

[2nd Position closing in]

Luca's heart kept pounding. He hadn't experienced such a start to a race before. He composed himself, took a very deep breath as he made Turn 6. He imagined the setting sun as his destination of victory. It was an endless voyage, yes. That would make him keep pushing.

There was a short straight, and Luca took good advantage of it. He emerged out of Turn 7 early, just before Miles, and racked up that speed as fast as he could. Luca wasn't sure if he'd executed Corner Chopping on Miles; only a notification would tell.

[Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]

[Tire traction: 80%]n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

[Recommended speed for maneuver: 180 km/h]

[2nd Position closing in]

Luca navigated his chassis into the next turns, flaunting his red-and-black Dallara to the massive Hungaro Ring crowd. His tires grazed the dust again in an attempt to get a good outside curve. Miles took the conventional lane, snatching P1 for half a second before Luca completed his trajectory and the leaderboard reversed.

[2nd Position]

[1st Position]

[2nd Position closing in]

"...Luca Rennick and Miles Bellingham are battling it out again! Turn 10 almost had them in contact, but Luca Rennick expertly cut out of Bellingham's rear, back in P1 in this Hungarian Grand Prix!"

[Corner Chopping +1]

[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 25%]

That was enough to give Luca a second breathing space. In return, it deducted a second breathing space from Miles. Before he knew it, Max had countered on his slipstream and was alongside him. As the final turn approached, Max Addams surprisingly edged ahead with ease and took back P2 from Miles, leaving him to Ansel's fangs.

"...these are critical, important corners for this Grand Prix, Rennick and Addams throwing Bellingham back of the line..."

"...it might be over for him, Steve. Ansel Hahn is gaining on his slipstream, and he's attempting at Turn 11 on the inside, but Bellingham is not giving it to him...!"

Luca was just about turning off his brake bias to gain as much power as possible before he barreled down the straight, made a turn, and sealed what was a thrilling opening lap. His ears perked when he heard a loud skra! A screech and sudden, sickening thud into the barricades.

**Shit!** Mr. Moritz cursed from the comm.

The crowd went wild.

"...and that is a BIG CRASH for Ansel Hahn! Miles Bellingham continues on after a bad touch with their tires. Bellingham loses none, but the Trampos driver loses one, and into the barricade he goes...!"

Luca, who couldn't hear the commentary over the sound of the SomberCores, kept asking Moritz what had happened.

**Just focus on your race. Han's out. He took a daring move, too tight, and the other guy had to squeeze in too**

Luca bit the inside of his lip as he barreled down the straight. That was definitely not supposed to happen. How can Ansel be out?! No, no.

**Safety car's out. Maintain delta time. Watch your gap to Addams**

Luca's heart was still pounding, adrenaline surging through him as he tried to process what had just happened. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles pale against the leather.

"...a heavy blow to Trampos Racing. But with a driver at P1, they can manage something here. Safety car's out, and marshals are on the track. The driver is fine, thankfully..."

Luca sighed deeply, easing off the throttle and allowing the car to coast as he checked his delta. His display flashed a bright yellow bar, urging him to slow further to meet the required pace. All the cars and drivers bunched together in a single line, weaving slightly to keep tire temperatures—and that tension—up.

"Just tell me what's happening," Luca persisted.

**It was too much to claim P3. He's fine, but the car is done**

Damnit! Luca cursed inwardly, knowing this would cost their chances at the team championship. His eyes moved to the biggest TV display, his hands steadily keeping his car within the safety car's regulations. There, on the screen, Ansel was just leaving the crashed red single-seater. He wasn't screaming or kicking his tires, but Luca could tell the frustration was deeper than that—the kind where one decides to do nothing but remain silent. After all, getting a DNF on the first lap was enough to prompt such a reaction.