The Form 1 season schedule grew tougher and more congested than ever as the championship approached the sixth round and midseason. This tight itinerary gave all F1 and F2 teams rtively just a one-week gap between the Bahrain and British Grands Prix.
And with tighter schedules came tighter and denser training drills. The team had justnded in Fulham, London after a two-day airline dy caused by heavy rainfall and thunderstorms. The spring season was at its peak just as the new month of May unfolded, offering fresh opportunities for corrections and improvements before thetter half of the year.
Stepping out of the bus to their designated training facility before the uing race on Saturday, Luca paused for a moment to savor the cool, crisp air. Overhead, the sky was a muted gray, casting a soft, almost mncholic light across the city. The faint scent of rain lingered, mingling with the earthy aroma of blooming flowers. The streets were alive with the hum of traffic and the distant chatter of pedestrians, creating a backdrop that was uniquely... London.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om
Luca removed his headset and hung it around his neck, sighing deeply as the team exited the bus in an organized line to their shuttle, like soldiers preparing for battle. His gaze swept the surroundings. It was obvious that it had rained earlier today as everyone except them had umbres with them.
FAF Performance Centre, Luca muttered inwardly as he stared at the bill hung on the facility. He had never heard of it. Much likely because he didn''t live in this part of London. Even at that, Luca had expected to meet this city with some sense of familiarity. He had thought nostalgia would wash over him, his body tickling with anything that reminded him of the memorable past.
Surprisingly to Luca, London just felt like the other four cities around the world he had traveled to. There was no igniting spark of recognition, and it seemed like any other citybeled under the Form 1 calendar.
"Make sure not to get too hydrated, you''d use the bathroom much more than you nned!" A tall staff member with a clipboard voiced loudly. "And alsoyer up any chance you get. It''s very chilly in every corner, especially at the simtors."
Mr. Moritz pped his hands loudly, the sound resonating as filler bottles were handed out to everyone. "Well, wee to us! Let''s stay sharp, focused and build up that energy again. We rule London by Saturday!" He hollered, leaning to a technician to listen closely to whatever was being discussed.
Luca felt the cold through his sneakers, gripping his bag tightly as he awaited further instructions. Ansel, Haas, and Victor stood close to him, surrounded by other crew members they were fond of.
After a brief round of instructions, the team was directed further inside, where full-scale training couldmence. The track was as conventional as ever, with a calm, focused atmosphere perfect for concentration.
Trampos Racing got to work.
After a series of quick physical drills, the arrival of the machinery truck signaled the start of preparations. The team assembled the cars, fine-tuning them for optimal performance. Soon, all four Trampos drivers donned their racing suits as the single-seaters were rolled out for them onto the track.
Within minutes, they were zipping around the facility at a safe speed, carefully warming up the engines and tires while sharpening their focus and reflexes. After a few warm-upps, Mr. Grant and his assistants gathered the team—Luca and Ansel—to discuss their major race strategy. Mr. Grant emphasized that they would adopt a strategy simr to what had led to their victory in Monaco, with slight modifications for the unique challenges ahead. He expected Ansel not to hold his line but to drive aggressively and aim for a podium finish, preferably P1.
"Stadhaven is a new circuit for us," Mr. Grant exined. "We haven''t raced on this track yet, so we can only specte about its challenges. However, we sent representatives to survey theyout, and their feedback indicates that it''s quite bnced."
He paused to pull up a tablet, revealing aerial images of the well-structured track. "Theyout is a 50:50 in terms of challenge—offering both tight corners and long straights. This bnce makes it suitable for various racing strategies, allowing for overtaking opportunities while also testing our skill in maneuvering through the tighter sections. The surface appears to have good grip, which should benefit us during the race."
Luca''s eyes scanned the familiar circuit. Stadhaven was nice, no doubt. It had this perfectyout to the sun, making the grass and the track glitter naturally. The aerial photos with empty grandstands even brought out the deep beauty of the track—the curves and straights. Stadhaven was really 50:50.
"Overall, the track seems fair," Mr. Moritz continued from where Mr. Grant stopped. "If we keep our speed and turns correct, I see a strong result for us. C''mon."
Luca took a deep breath as he spun around to face his car. His eyes caught Ansel''s inward grumble—a clear sign of unhappiness—and Luca had seen a lot of it ever since Bahrain. Luca understood Ansel''s frustration, and if he were to be honest, he''d be unhappy too. Ansel had looked like he would be in wonderful form just after Australia, where he imed his first P1 of the season, with Monaco making it his second, only for him to drop back in the following races.
Putting on his helmet, Luca let his System flicker to life, the words [SYSTEM ONLINE...] briefly disyed on the screen before another assessment of the Dara before him took ce.
Mr. Grant stood by Luca''s single-seater once he entered, the engine rumbling deeply beneath him. Luca turned to see his Team Principal ring down at him, clearly ready for a brief conversation—without the radio. Quickly, he slotted up his helmet''s visor as Mr. Grant leaned on the chassis.
"You''re well aware we do not owe Haas any more races?" Mr. Grant began, and Luca nodded.
"Good. So that means you have all Featured Races to you and your pal there, and I want the both of you to cook up a chemistry that has never been seen before. Do you get me?"
"Yes, sir."
"It''s Trampos''s season. We started morously; we must finish with that same mor. Do you get me?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Grant nodded, giving his vibrating car a nice, supportive tap. "Alright then. Drive away, and keep your eyes open. I don''t want any contact with a rival," he said, ncing at Haas behind Luca. He made a quick signal, yelling, "Onward!"
Luca shut his visor and focused on Ansel''s car just ahead, his mind reeling with many thoughts as they were set to fire away. Haas would work as an opponent and pose significant threats while Luca and Ansel practiced clean track hugging and effective use of straights.
They were signaled to begin, and they all shot away, speeding up gradually.
**What''s your status?** Mr. Moritz asked.
Luca nced around his System, and everything seemed fine. Realizing the tone of Moritz''s voice, Luca chuckled. The question was not about his car. "I''m good, powered up in fact," he replied.
**Good. Good. Let''s fly**
---------------------------------------
After two wonderful days of training with a third to look out for, Luca was d to see a notification for an attribute point.
[Ding!]
[Agility +1]
With that increase, his Attributes had these values:
[Strength: 17
Stamina: 22
Endurance: 22
Agility: 19
Intelligence: 18 ]
Luca was excited because the System had assured him that once all Attributes reached the 20 mark, a new Skill would be unlocked and made avable for his use, thereby increasing his chances of winning more races. Simrly, when the Attributes all reached the 30 mark, another Skill would be unlocked, then again at the 40 mark, and so on.
Taking a look at his Skills & Techniques section on the screen disy, Luca was also eager to max out Reflexes and Track Awareness. Maxing out each Skill individually, not collectively, to 20 would also unlock one additional Skill for Luca.
[Reflexes: 19
Overtaking Skill: 20
Track Awareness: 18
Pitstop Prodigy: 5
Corner Chopping: 4
Straightaway Chopping:3
Others (Locked) ] Read exclusive adventures at empire
Alright, Luca. I''ll y my cards well, he said to himself as he entered the chill-out section of the facility. The atmosphere was chilly, but Luca felt warm after spending minutes in the cockpit of an overheating beast of a machine.
He instinctively sat down on a bench fixed to the wall, dismissing the System interface before pulling his phone out of his bag. Luca was determined to analyze what he was up against in Stadhaven and n how to react to each rival.
He swiped his phone to unlock it, greeted by hundreds of unread messages piling in. Luca had no time to respond to them all or even check who had messaged him. He had pinned chats from Sara, Amir, Mallow, and Mr. Fisher for quick ess. With practiced efficiency, he replied to each of them swiftly, ensuring everything was on track without any major dys. Skipping over the other messages, Luca opened the F1 application.
The fact that Aaronson had won two Grand Prix races in a row gnawed at him. Even Walding must have racked up plenty of points with consistent finishes near the podium. There was no denying it that Trampos''s lead was under threat.
To confirm, Luca scrolled to the team standings and reviewed the rankings for himself.
PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.
Position | Team | Points
--------------------------------------------------
1. | Trampos Racing | 142
2. | Bueseno Velocità Jnr. | 126
3. | Hatcherk Motorsport | 90
4. | Squadra Corse Jnr | 75
5. | Retona Racing | 22
Luca let out a sigh of relief, though there was a subtle hint of cynicism. Trampos still held the lead, which spoke volumes about the massive gap they had built earlier. But with Bueseno also in triple figures and wing closer, one more poor race from Trampos could hand them the lead.
Luca wouldn''t let that happen. This waspetition at its finest, and he swore toe out victorious.
Ansel''s familiar footsteps echoed into the chill-out section, drawing Luca''s attention away from his phone. Ansel looked despondent as he passed by to grab his water bottle. His usual stoic demeanor now carried a noticeable somberness.
"You were pretty fast today, I''m not gonna lie," Luca remarked, hoping to spark that electricity once again. "You think you can do the same on Saturday?"
Ansel chuckled softly, a deep breath escaping his lips. He dabbed at his neck with his towel and gripped the strap of his bag, clearly ready to call it a day. "We can only try our best," he said before walking toward the door. But he stopped before Luca, raising a brow. "You said you''d like to meet your family when you got here. You haven''t yet, have you?"
"Nope, not yet."
"When will you? After the race?"
"Yup," Luca replied, switching off his phone. "I don''t want anything distracting me beforehand. For now, it''s focus. Sunday will be the perfect time to meet them."
Ansel smiled warmly, offering Luca a hand. Luca quickly epted, grasping Ansel''s strong grip as their muscles tensed. With a grunt, Luca was pulled to his feet and he dusted off his pants.
Picking up his bag, the two left the chill-out section together and retired for the day.