Race Day: Aug. 14, Riyadh Zenith Circuit, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
"...good evening, ladies and gentlen. The ti is ten minutes past six here in the capital, and it's Formula driving weekend! We had a thrilling Sprint Race earlier today, and now we gear up for the main event—72 laps of high-speed action under the floodlights of the Riyadh Zenith Circuit!"
"...Luca Rennick starts at pole position AGAIN after an impressive qualifying session where he clinched the fastest lap. Albert Derstappen makes it to the front rows for another Grand Prix. Joining him on the front row is Ansel Hahn, the man to watch in tonight's race. Both Trampos drivers are in the top three, and both have been in stellar form this season. Tensions between them have been making headlines."
The countdown clock appeared on all screens, the crowd erupting into cheers as lights out was set to begin in the next hour. Riyadh Zenith Circuit had more grandstands for spectators, unlike a similar street circuit like the Circuit de l'Étoile, where almost zero grandstands ant viewership was left to the towering buildings and broadcasting screens.
Luca could hear the comntators ntioning his na, comparing his chances with other drivers in the upcoming race. Yet here he was, out on the track, not in his Dallara, but in a Veststar alone, an unsecured one at that. His Velcro straps hung loose, and his gloves were nowhere in sight. What could possibly keep him out here when the race was set to begin in less than an hour? Luca was spending ti with the young go-kart academics.
Fourteen in number, the kids were being hailed as mascots for the race. Their colorful go-karts, adorned with decals and miniature spoilers, had been rolled out onto the grid. The grandstands watched in amusent as the marshals joined in the fun, showing the children how to make donuts on the asphalt. The screech of tiny tires blended with the laughter of the kids, their faces glowing with joy and awe as they shared the sa track where professional F2 racers would soon battle it out.
Luca wasn't the only driver out; three others had co to play with the kids too, but none of them were from a top-table team like him.
"Do you think you can win from pole?" one of the older kids asked, his wide eyes peering up at Luca from the snug cockpit of his go-kart. A neatly wrapped turban adorned the boy's head, marking him as a native. In fact, all the mascots—fourteen in total—were locals, chosen to represent their nation on race day.
Luca rubbed his hands together against the biting chill of the evening air. The contrast between Saudi Arabia's scorching dayti heat and its freezing desert nights never failed to catch him off guard. The glow from the streetlights and floodlights seed to intensify the cold, his breath curling visibly in the air as he exhaled. "Yes, I'm really confident," Luca replied, offering the boy a reassuring smile. "But tell , who do you think I should watch out for? Give so insider tips."
The boy didn't hesitate. "Max Addams. He's really fast and takes corners better than anyone—except you. You're the best at corners."
"Max, huh? I know Max. He's very good. Anyone else?"
"Bellingham! That's if he gets close enough. You should also look out for Mr. Ansel. I watched the last Grand Prix, and I was concerned about the contacts."
Luca nodded, recalling Mandalora himself. Well, now they had a strategy where he and Ansel wouldn't have to battle on the track, so that was a good thing.
"...But you take corners faster, so I'd say Max is your real rival," the boy continued, swiftly executing a donut.
"Thanks for the heads-up," Luca said, though his mind drifted as the boy continued speaking. The others drove behind him over the grid boxes, the crowd admiring the adorableness.
Luca felt this race would be a special one, a race he would fight for Trampos, especially now that he had extended his contract with the team. Trampos deserved victory, and he was determined to deliver.
[Status: 6 year contract
Salary: $636,000
Team: Trampos Racing ]
A marshal approached from Luca's side, clearing his throat. "We're on the clock, mate. They'll be leaving in five. You still staying?"
"No, no. I'll get to my team now," Luca replied. He turned to the children, waving them off and fist-bumping those closest to him before jogging back to Trampos' garage.
As Luca reached the garage, the overhead comntary captured the mont.
"And there goes Luca Rennick, back into his garage. A growing champion for Trampos and the country at large. Three Grands Prix to his na—can the 18-year-old add another tonight? Thirty minutes till lights out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix!"
Once Luca entered the garage, he bumped into McCauley, who had been looking for him. "And where have you been? Thirty minutes left, mate."
"Press," Luca lied, ducking and weaving his way through to get fully dressed and ready.
"With close walls, overtaking opportunities are very limited," Mr. Moritz began as Luca fixed his Velcro and adjusted the essential parts of his racing suit. "Since you have pole, you have to start strong. Aggression will help you secure a good position, but a single mistake can ruin your race. Focus on holding position and staying out of trouble. Let the chaos around you work in your favor."
"Noted," Luca replied, turning to Mr. Colt as if expecting more advice from him too.
As expected, Mr. Colt had his own insights. His tips focused on pit strategy and tire managent, explaining that Luca might only need one pit stop if he could manage his tires and control the traffic rather than get caught in it. Additionally, he advised Luca to preserve his tires as much as possible—though he could be aggressive early on, over-pushing might hurt him later.
Ansel, seated in the dressing room as well, listened closely to the advice given to Luca, even though he was in his own quiet ritual. Mr. Moritz and Mr. Colt had already finished addressing him, but their instructions hadn't been as long or as detailed as what they were giving Luca.
Ansel understood that Luca was now Player A, but even so...
He sighed as Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton entered to recap the sa things they'd been saying all week. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his balaclava, then paused, staring at the #43 on his helt before picking it up and walking grudgingly toward the group.
"...Five minutes till lights out, and the drivers will soon roll their cars to the grid to begin this Grand Prix! The world of Formula 2 holds its breath—Max Addams is just one point ahead of Luca Rennick. The Team Standings show a significant points difference! This Grand Prix might just be all about the drivers!"
[SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]
[SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]
[Host is now synced with Dallara (F2 04)]
Luca gripped his wheel tighter as he cruised his single-seater into the pole box. The marshals nodded, then moved toward Derstappen to wave him into place.
Once all drivers had their Dallaras neatly positioned in the grid boxes, the starting lights began their countdown. Engines roared to life as every driver revved for power, the tension thickening with every passing millisecond.
**Alright, Luca. You'll control the pace, stay ahead, and manage your car**
"Got it," Luca replied. "I'll do my best to finish with the lead." I'll do my best.
**Han, you're in P3. Capitalize on any chance, but don't overcommit. Let's get the team in pri positions**
**Understood** Ansel replied.
"...Five lights on... engines revving to the limit... and—"
"...Lights out! We are racing in Riyadh!"
Luca, Derstappen, and Ansel led the pack into the golden-lit street track, kicking off the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Mr. Grant settled calmly in his viewing post with Ms. Vallotton, who handed him a small platter of fresh dates. Their rich sweetness paired perfectly with the bitterness of the Arabic coffee she poured into a cup for him.
"Thank you," Mr. Grant said, taking a short sip.
"Anyti," Ms. Vallotton replied, crossing her legs and folding her arms as her gaze fell on the screens where Luca had just begun the third lap, still holding P1.
Both the Team Principal and his vice were very confident about today's results, but they were still concerned because this was the first ti their drivers were executing the Tiered Pursuit strategy on a competitive stage and not in drills and training. Even Haas and Victor, who have finally began to drive in Sprint Races, still worked with Dual Advance strategy in Sprint Races, so this was the first ti spectators would likely spot subtle movents that'd automatically explain Luca was now of priory to Trampos—A—over Ansel—B.
"WOOOOOHH!" The grandstands erupted, shattering the rhythmic roar of engines in the cool desert night. The uproar was deafening—being a street circuit, the sound reverberated off the towering modern structures. Even the crisp night air seed to carry the noise further, alerting the city that two F2 drivers had just made contact.
"...Incredible scenes! Sean Aaronson and Miles Bellingham have just kissed tires through the chicane, making slight contact that sent both spinning dangerously close to the barriers! That could've ended in disaster, but they've managed to regain control..."
"Ohh... how I'd love for it to have ended much worse," Ms. Vallotton whispered, sipping her coffee.
"...Aaronson is the first to recover, his quick reflexes putting him back into motion, while Bellingham is still struggling to straighten out! Aaronson's already moving, and he's not wasting any ti reclaiming lost ground!"
"...Sean Aaronson in P5, Miles Bellingham, P6...!"
[5th Lap]
Zip! Zip! Zip! The Dallaras, each adorned in vibrant colors, streaked past the walls and steel barriers that separated the track from the grandstands. The crowd roared for their favorites. Though Saudi Arabia's attendance didn't feature many foreign fans who had flown in, the grandstands were still packed—so were the buildings overlooking the street circuit.
[Analyzing 2nd Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]
[2nd Position is 1 sec away, host.]
[System's prediction: that value might remain constant or reduce—and not in your favor.]
[2nd Position is closing in]
[Host has unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent]
[6th Lap]
"... and Derstappen is looking aggressive! He's approaching to squeeze in!"
Luca barreled down the straight as Albert Derstappen capitalized on his slipstream, lining up alongside him before they approached Turn 1, which imdiately cut into Turn 2.
"Give a recap of Side-by-Side King. I tried chopping him off, but it didn't work."
[Retrieving Data on Side-by-side King...]
[...Data Retrieved]
[Summarized execution of Side-by-side King:
Maintain a steady line and control during close battles by using precise braking and throttle. Position yourself strategically to pressure your rival or defend effectively, while anticipating their movents to ti your attacks or blocks. By doing this, host could successfully execute Side-by-Side King. ] Find exclusive stories on empire
"Okay. Let try and get my first point for it."
**Albert Derstappen's montum looks frightening. Can you handle him? If not, you could ease off. You're heading for 5-8—the walls are too tight, not to ntion the tunnels**
"I can handle him," Luca replied, gripping his wheel tighter as Derstappen pulled alongside him.
Both cars flashed their red rear lights at Ansel, who trailed just two seconds behind. They cut around a golden-lit skyscraper, heading toward the tunnels. Luca's instincts for Side-by-Side King were still raw, but they were there—he could try. Derstappen's nose edged forward, both engines screaming into the night.
[Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]
[Tire traction: 80%]
[Recomnded speed for maneuver: 185 km/h]
"Nice."
[3rd Position closing in]
"That should be Ansel. I can attempt on Derstappen."
[Side-by-side King 1]
[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]
"C'mon, I did it."
"...Luca Rennick is holding his ground brilliantly against Derstappen! They're nose-to-nose, matching each other's pace as they tear through the tunnels. Rennick seems unfazed by the pressure, using every bit of the track to defend his position. His control is impeccable as he edges Derstappen closer to the wall without making contact, forcing the Dutchman to back off slightly."
"...And now Rennick takes the lead through the tunnel exit! He's dominating this side-by-side battle, showing incredible composure and skill under pressure. Derstappen will need to regroup if he wants to reclaim that position!"
**Very good pressure on him**
[3rd Position closing in]
Ansel is actually getting really close, Luca mused as temporal darkness swallowed him and Derstappen before they burst from the tunnel, darting into Turn 7, exposing their cars to the crowd.
Luca's front tires twitched, gripping the asphalt tightly as the g-force slamd against him and his car like a vice. He tilted his wheel sharply, quickly obeying Turn 7's curvature. Derstappen, montarily relegated behind him, seized the very lane Luca had left open for his drift.
[Calculating host drift exit...]
[.... successfully calculated]
"Thanks," Luca whispered as his car wobbled back into place, his tires burning from the push.
Derstappen weaved out, granting Luca so space, cussing under his breath. He hadn't wanted to, but he had no choice. With their montum slightly reduced, both now lunged toward Turn 8, sticking to the inside lane as they rounded yet another towering skyscraper.
[3rd Position has closed in]
"...Stealthily, Ansel Hahn works tirelessly in Derstappen's slipstream. He's got the montum—the power—he's alongside Luca Rennick now!"
"WOOOOOHH!"
Luca's eyes widened as a fellow red-and-black Dallara surged past both him and Derstappen from the outside lane, slicing ahead just as the next straight below a bridge unfolded.
[2nd Position.]
"...Ansel Hahn leads this Saudi Arabian Grand Prix!"
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