My Formula 1 System-Chapter 613: China Problems

Chapter 613: China Problems
The checkered flag had fallen; the race was over. The circuit shook in celebration with the conclusion of the Chinese Grand Prix, claps sweeping through from all the spectators because the event did not disappoint.
Fifty-six laps of strain, tension, and survival condensed in one. As the benchmarkers crossed the finish line, they were the most relieved.
The winning car rolled softly through the cooldown lap, its S-level engine ticking down to rest. As the machine tilted and rolled unhurriedly, the heat shimmered beautifully off its bodywork until it finally came to a stop.
Out came the driver’s gloved hand from the cockpit, waving to the hundreds of his supporters in the stands. The cheers crashed back at him in waves, and he couldn’t help but smile behind his visor.
A victory so thin and fragile like this felt like the most earned.
Another car rolled into parc fermé moments later, P2 finisher, and he dragged tension back into the air.
The victor unbuckled his harness and rose from the cockpit. As he did, his full height and race suit revealed themselves, glossy black and adorned with sponsors and labels. Antonio Luigi, P1 finisher, straightened and, with helmet still on, turned to face the RBIoL settle at his lower-right.
Jimmy Damgaard acted aloof to the electricity crackling between them. It was almost as if he wanted to pester Luigi. Staying seated longer than necessary, he drummed on his wheel, feigned inspecting his cockpit, and answering a radio query. When he finally stood, he also didn’t spare the champion so much as a glance.
Velocita and Squadra crew swarmed from opposite sides and swallowed both drivers before they could exchange words, no matter how little, or make any more shrouded gestures.
"...the race may have ended, but make no mistake, this rivalry is far from finished. What an ice-cold faceoff there between Antonio Luigi and Jimmy Damgaard after one of the most dramatic endings we’ve seen all season...!"
"...we all thought Jimmy had it in the bag at Lap 55, but Luigi reminded the world exactly why he’s the reigning champion. He’s been struggling since this campaign, but another Grand Prix win for him, and that goes a long way for the title race...!"
[3RD POSITION]
[Congratulations, you have made a podium!]
[You have received:
–Catalyst (1)]
P3 finish. A podium was a podium, but Luca had mixed feelings about his results.
From the radio, the team cheered. 15 solid points, top-five consolidation, all proof that Trampos were firmly in the fight. Luca shared half their satisfaction as he rolled to cooldown, but he was certain this race could have been his if one of his encounters had played out differently.
From his car, Luca saw the standoff between Luigi and Damgaard. He couldn’t help but find it funny. He joked about it to the first Trampos crewman who reached him.
After hearing about the late, breathtaking overtake, Luca was interested in the replay to see how it unfolded. He had correctly predicted that the champion would take back P1, because champions didn’t surrender like that when it mattered most.
Jimmy and Luigi had danced on a knife’s edge since the second pitstop phase, so it was more than possible for Luigi to find an opening on the final lap the same way Jimmy had the lap before, each capable of striking at intervals.
’It’ll be fun to see these two fix their minds on each other,’ Luca mused. ’How much can I achieve with rival attention away from me for a moment?’
er 1: Luca, P3 today. Are you satisfied with that result?
"Yeah, overall I am. All points matter here, and even though it wasn’t a fun podium to share, I’m glad I made it. Of course, when you replay certain moments in your head, you think—maybe, but that’s racing. I’ll take it."
er 2: Ailbeart’s car issue gave you a clearer path. How do you feel about that overtake?
"Honestly, I feel for him. No driver wants to lose out like that. I would’ve preferred a straight fight, but you race what’s in front of you."
er 1: Antonio’s win. Does that worry you in the title picture?
"*sigh* A rival winning is always a worrying factor, Antonio or not. All it does is motivate me."
er 1: Everyone’s talking about how you FIXED your wing mid-race. How did you even do that?
Luca laughs shyly. "You’ll always have very big instincts out there!" he exclaimed. "I guess it just happened. My position was on the line. I couldn’t lose it."
er 2: That wasn’t just instinct displayed there, Luca. That was true craft and expertise, and I don’t think we can ever get to see such a feat ever again, unless of course, you decide to shock the world again with another. And I say this from my heart deeply: I’m fortunate to watch a formula driver like you.
Luca: "... ⟳ ⟳ ⟳ ....."
er 1: OKAY! And finally, next stop—South Africa. Is th–
"I’m already looking forward to it. New circuit, new atmosphere, new chances. We’ll push again," Luca said. Looking at er 2, he added, "And I’m grateful to have you watch me."
The podium celebration was anything but fun. Neither Luigi nor Jimmy Damgaard popped their champagne.
Luigi had eventually, but only after he paused in spite to wait for Jimmy to step off the stage, not like Jimmy wanted to be there any second longer after the first flash of cameras.
Luca had been the detached one. Odd.
To his surprise, he liked it. It felt like freedom.
As he strode to his team’s garage, shaking hands with key figures along the pit lane, he raised a hand to a section of fans who spotted him, a man worth admiration and a true racer.
Smiling, Luca entered Trampos’ walls until he got the center prorogue room, almost empty save for steel benches lining the walls and a few spectating monitors with the floor slightly littered with garbage from the team. Gradually, his smile faded away, but not because of what he saw, but because of the atmosphere in the garage.
The crew members who passed him or went about their duties had telling eyes but shrouded expressions. It felt as if a conversation had been clearly alive seconds earlier, but died the instant he entered.
Someone cleared their throat. Someone folded their arms.
Moving further inside, Luca crossed paths with Derek, a senior face he knew well.
One look at him was enough. Luca asked what was wrong, but Derek was avoidant, so he only tilted his head toward the debrief room where faint voices leaking through its door could be heard.
Luca didn’t hesitate. The door was open in seconds. In the room, seven people froze instantly from his interruption.
Mr. Grant was seated. Colt leaned against the wall. Mr. Ruben was pacing. Vallotton stood, looking like she was the one speaking last. Opposite her was Victor, while the two others were executives. The air was heavy with something serious, and Luca didn’t like it one bit.
’Does this have anything to do with Vic’s performance?’ Luca wondered. He had a razor-fast mind that helped him sift in microseconds, and this was the best he could think of. After all, Victor’s posture told a big story. One look at his red eyes...
It was the look of someone who had been explaining himself for too long, or being cornered without rest, and this made Luca hate whatever this was the more.
’What’s going on?’ he asked the room.
Answers like deep breaths and shuffles were thrown back at him. Luca made sure they understood he meant the question, so he settled into the silence.
Eventually, Mr. Grant swallowed to speak, but he never got the chance. Abrupt and furious, Victor stormed toward the door.
"Victor," Luca said, trying to stop him, but Victor shoved past his mentor. The door banged against the outer wall as he disappeared down the corridor.
Despite what just happened, Luca wasn’t mad. He only just watched him go before calmly turning back to the room of elders, placing his hands on his waist.