[50th Lap]
It was the 50th Lap, and Max Adddams felt his breath hitch in his throat as he exited the pit lane from his second stop of the night, the pit limiter finally releasing him back onto the open, illuminated track.
P11— Max Adddams ←
Rejoining in P11 after leaving the race in P8, Max felt his heart rate rise far beyond the norms of an average F1 driver during a race. The field was tight, every position a fight, especially as the race neared its end. Now, the balance of his night rested on how quickly he could cut through the midfield before the leaders widened the gap beyond reach and ended the race on their terms by crossing the chequered flag first.
Max could lie to himself to validate his purpose, but truthfully, his tension wasn’t imperative at all, nor were the lofty expectations from the crowd. No one was truly demanding that he scrabble his way into the top five before the chequered flag, but Max was a young man of ambition, and also of diffidence.
After Dreyer’s brutal crash on the 15th Lap, Max stood as the only Outback driver left on the track. The reality made him feel as though the responsibilities of a main character in a story had been imposed on him, and failing would an, to him, that he wasn’t the main character after all.
Look at Albert Derstappen and Luca, both rivals he had faced in Formula 2, a division he had dominated with ease. Yet here in Formula 1, they were better. Derstappen sat comfortably in P8, ard with a car far superior to his own, and as for Luca... Max didn’t even want to open that book yet. The thought alone of Luca and his charming face was enough to sour his focus.
His eyes sharpened with alertness as he caught Elias Nystrom’s Audi falter slightly due to a poor entry into street Turn 6. The slip closed their gap significantly in that instant, and Max caught this on his dashboard. Despite running on cold tires, he kept his composure, masking the sudden rush of opportunity.
Confidence began to course through him, telling him maybe he could do this after all.
**One point zero behind Elias. Clutch for DRS after T9. Tire temp will be okay then**
Steadily, Max focused on bringing heat into the rubber, calculating his corners and throttle application with precision. Tire warmth wasn’t yet optimal for higher-speed turns, but it was manageable for a quick DRS application. However, the team’s sudden plan crumbled just as quickly, because Nordvind Racing pulled Elias Nystrom out of that impending predicant as swiftly as possible with sharp team instructions.
But it wasn’t over yet because by the following lap, the Canadian’s tires were holding better warmth, and this made him advance with courage. He also had the advantage of his Red Bull over Nystrom’s ever-subpar Audi.
Corner by corner, the gap shrank until it was no longer a chase, but the developnt of a full-blown duel, playing out within Stellar’s impossibly narrow streets.
There was another heated scrap between two midfield fighters just ahead. Nystrom had been eyeing one of them before Max’s sudden disturbance.
Denko Rutherford and Albert Derstappen were locked wheel-to-wheel in P9 and P8, respectively, their positions so hotly contested by each other that the leaderboard itself might have been at a loss over who actually held which spot at any given mont.
"...This—this right here—is exactly what so many fans pay their tickets for...!"
"...this is the chaos that makes every lap worth the price of admission...!"
"...the tension dances through the cold night as the race evolves into a full-on battlefield, every driver clawing for track space and refusing to yield an inch! It’s a living, breathing fight for glory, and it’s absolutely worth every heartbeat it steals from the crowd...!"
"WOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"
[>>>>>
T3--T4---T5┐
T6–T7┐
T8
T10––––T9┘
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