Race Day: Mar. 7, Circuit de l'Étoile, Monte Carlo, Monaco.
The whole world was abuzz as the first day—or rather, night—of F1 action had arrived.
Luca lowered his headset from his ears to his neck, gripped his duffel bag, and rose to his feet.
Dressed in a Jackson Racing casual tracksuit, he followed the other crew mbers as they disembarked from the coach bus.
The mont they stepped out, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd gathered near the buildings to the right. Security struggled to keep them in control as the team arrived.
Jackson Racing fans roared the loudest, calling out for the crew's attention, eager for autographs and photos.
All the Jackson Racing drivers deed it necessary to engage with the fans. After all, they had no idea how the night's results would play out.
If things took a bad turn, they might not be in the mood for this later.
So Luca pulled out his ergency pen and wandered toward the crowd with Rodnick and the others.
Security took no chances, maintaining—if not intensifying—their regulation, pushing the massive crowd back with the help of barriers.
Luca, Rodnick, Di Renzo, and the rest split into different segnts to cover more ground quickly.
The first object Luca grabbed to sign ca from a little boy. It was a toy Ferrari car, though he wasn't entirely sure of the model.
He signed it swiftly and patted the boy's head. The kid was so stunned he couldn't even utter a word.
In contrast to the younger fans, so of the older teens and grown-ups were far more vocal, loudly sharing their thoughts.
So were even confessing their intimate attraction to Luca and other absurd things right there in the mont.
Regardless of how excessively glazing it all was, Luca was glad to be admired at Jackson Racing. It seed the English—unlike the Italians—were on his side.
Co to think of it, this favoritism made sense. It was publicly known that Luca had grown up in the UK and spent most of his life there.
Because of that, the English fans likely saw him as a hoboy and believed he was far more connected to the country than the other Jackson Racing drivers, who had spent their lives elsewhere.
While wrapping up his fan engagent, Luca glanced toward the far side, where another cluster of fans had gathered in rival colors, proudly bearing Velocità's sigil.
To another side, Squadra Corse fans lood, their presence not ignorable. Entire blocks surrounding the street circuit were filled with spectators who wouldn't find a grandstand on this night.
Among them, Luca spotted a particular poster of his own face, crossed out with a bold red X. Beneath it, Italian text read: "Rennick the traitor."
Luca wasn't fluent in his mother tongue, so he had no idea what it said.
But considering it ca from opposing fans and had a giant red X over his face, it was obvious the ssage wasn't one of reverence.
He simply shook his head and caught up with the team, moving in as they passed through the main security checkpoint, leaving the noise behind.
"How do you feel about your first official Formula 1 race, Luca?"
"Sa way every driver feels now. Ready and optimistic."
"You qualified P11. Would you say that was the best you could do, or do you feel like you left sothing on the table?"
"I could've done better, no doubt. There were a few milliseconds I let slip, but P11 isn't a bad place to start, so I'll make the most of it."
"Rodnick starts ahead of you in P6. Will there be any team orders, or is it every man for himself?"
"We race smart. That's all I'll say."
"Jackson Racing has high expectations for this season. Do you feel any pressure to perform right away?"
"Pressure is part of the job," Luca answered this one with a slight chuckle. "Everyone's feeling the pressure. I'm sure Luca Rennick is no exception."
"Indeed, Luca," the reporter acknowledged. "So, to conclude, do you have any response to Max Addams?"
Luca raised a brow. Max Addams? Why was he suddenly hearing that na in an F1 press conference?
"Response? Max?" he asked, confused.
"Yes. Max Addams kicked off the F2 season last night with a victory at 1st place," the reporter began.
Oh, that I've heard...
"And he ntioned sothing about 'true talent not being recognized.' By any chance, Luca, do you think he might be referring to your entrance into F1 being a fluke?"
Luca slowly shook his head, his mind reeling as he imagined the atmosphere here in Stellar last night when Max clinched the first Grand Prix silverware.
"I think this will be all," Luca said, ready to leave. "He never explicitly ntioned my na, so do not presu anything. Thank you."
The reporter withdrew her microphone and watched Luca walk out of the cara's light and into the chilly night air, the floodlights shining brightly above.
"...Welco to Monaco, where the sun has long since descended, the harbor is glistening, and the anticipation for the first Grand Prix of the season is at an all-ti high...!"
"...my na is Sam Hamilton and I'm joined here in the comntary gantry with my colleague, Alex Gardner!"
"....After months of waiting, countless hours of testing, and a long winter of speculation, drama, tragedy and resolve, the new Formula 1 season is finally here!"
"...and what better way to kick things off than on the streets of Monte Carlo? A circuit that demands the bravery and absolute focus of our drivers!"
"...you can feel the tension building, Sam? Because I can!"
"... Jackson Racing and Marcellus Rodnick would have to defend their titles...!"
"...Trampos Racing would have to show their worth in the biggest stage of motorsport...!"
"...THIS LADIES AND GENTLEN, IS THE FORMULA 1 MONACO GRAND PRIX...!"
[Host hasn't unlocked Skills to analyze rivals]
Luca had been staring so hard at his rivals entering their garages that his system assud he was trying to analyze them just like he did with cars.
He exhaled deeply and turned into his team's garage, which was alive with activity.
Far ahead, he could already hear the announcent of 90 minutes till lights out.
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