In a day, Luca was back in Germany to join his comrades. New-race feeling had perated reality. It was ti to implent the new regin, to test its limits, to turn discipline into dominance, and to get back to winning. Luca wanted a streak that could carry him to the end of the year.
After seeing his mother and Sophia the night before, he was going to use his ntal images of them to push harder than ever through the remaining season and finish it on top.
On the day he arrived in Berlin, the city was already preparing for Resistance Day. It was also Isabella’s birthday, so Luca wished her well over the phone. Isabella answered weakly, but her boyfriend took it as normal.
In no ti, he was back at Trampos HQ, his eyes observant as he scanned for anyone he had seen at the Hawthorne gathering, recalling a couple of nas in the process.
But other than Mr. Fisher, Luca didn’t see the faces he was subconsciously searching for. So, he made his first stop at the dical departnt for his routine checks and weekly clearance. From there, he transitioned into logistics to stay up-to-date with all schedules, conditions, and regulations.
It was busy work, grounding work. Only later, when he finally entered the driver-board eting room, did he see the individuals he was looking for.
Luca rembered all except for Mr. Fisher being relatively low on the hierarchy at the mansion that night. None of the others had even been in the sa room as Mrs. Hawthorne, let alone close enough to exchange words. Given he was the only person present who had crossed into Mrs. Hawthorne’s inner circle, Luca finally understood the extent of his position within Trampos Racing. It wasn’t written on paper, but it existed clearly enough.
He wondered if he should begin using this power in so way, because apparently, the new internal board seed intent on shrinking him back into the narrow definition of "just a driver."
’I will handle anything carefully, without being too passive or too assertive,’ Luca thought. ’After all, they’re just trying to establish order.’
The eting passed without Luca spilling his thoughts. The discussions circled around the usual nuances of his career. Nothing about Victor was ntioned, though the foreboding was felt in the room.
After the eting, Luca left for the Performing Area of the facility, expecting to see his teammate waiting sowhere nearby, but Victor was nowhere to be found. The next day was when the young man showed up at camp.
Victor was visibly relieved and happy to see Luca. He also offered his apologies again for the altercation in China, this ti in person. But just as on the phone, Luca couldn’t care less about the apology. His focus was on the progress the team had made to resolve the issues.
At the sa ti, Luca also had a few hard words for Victor.
"You know, you’ve made it harder on yourself with the act you pulled," he said.
"I know... I really ssed up. I’m sorry," Victor whined.
"Now you’re going to have to pull in more—performative goodness, better race performance—just to make up for it."
"I get it. I will. I promise."
Luca looked at him. The sa way Luca had growth written all over his face, so did Victor. This wasn’t the sa teenager with a mullet from two years ago.
"I believe you can make it through this," Luca continued, leading the way to the uniform room. "But let’s see how it unfolds over the next few weeks."
"Yeah... I won’t let you down."
~~~~~~~~
Victor’s P15 finish in Shanghai had rumbled the team. This ti, Luca wasn’t leaning back. For Victor’s sake, he chose to intervene, especially now that talks of a replacent had surfaced openly.
Until Thiemann structurally shifted his stance on Victor’s future, Luca was going to stand beside him. Support, even when inconvenient, was still a form of control.
In truth, whether Victor recovered his form or not, Luca had begun the season almost alone, and he would see it through the sa way: solo to the end.
PROVISIONAL DRIVER’S CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP 10)
Position | Team | Points
---------------------------------------
1. | Luca Rennick | 247
2. | Jimmy Damgaard | 213
3. | Ailbeart Moireach | 191
4. | Antonio Luigi | 177
5. | Luis Dreyer | 140
6. | Marko Ignatova | 116
7. | Buoso Di Renzo | 96
8. | Albert Derstappen | 62
9. | Elias Nyström | 50
10. | Denko Rutherford | 44
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
[Relisting Diamond-level Training Program]
[xxxx]
[xxxx]
[xxxx]
[xxxx]
[xxxx]
[Duration: Undefined]
[Cost: Accumulative]
[Growth Vector: Asymtric]
[Recovery Margin: Non-linear]
[Yield: Long-term]
Compared to the regin Squadra Corse and Luigi had imitated, Luca’s diamond-level program operated on a whole other plane. Now, it would be impossible for rivals to replicate, given its complexity and persistent scaling.
Also, Luca didn’t plan on sharing any segnt of it with his team. This ant that Squadra Corse couldn’t physically extract data as they had with his old regin. They have his old arsenal, but he has a newer weapon now.
After his first-ever session in the diamond-level program, Luca trudged out of the facility feeling like overcooked spaghetti. Every muscle trembled, his legs refused to fully support him, and even his core felt hollowed from exertion.
He felt like he set the bar too high, but when he rembered his very first day at the gym when his legs went numb overnight, Luca knew he would adapt with ti.
In the parking lot, familiar figures were lingering around, their presence imdiately catching Luca’s eye. Among them was Mr. Lemaitre. It wasn’t surprising to see him around; he was a co-owner of Trampos Racing after all.
Luca expected a simple greeting and a polite exchange before parting ways, but Mr. Lemaitre had bigger intentions for the Mazerunner this evening.
Mr. Lemaitre’s hand was firm as Luca shook it. "Luca, I was expecting you any mont now. How are you doing?" the millionaire asked.
"I’m doing well," Luca managed to say while enduring the aches from his training. "What about you? Is there sothing going on?"
Luca was expecting an announcent of so importance, but Mr. Lemaitre shrugged casually, a smile on his face that hinted at a forr ladies’ man. "Nothing much. Just... I don’t have a car here, so I’d like you to take my daughter ho for ."
Daughter?
Luca glanced toward the shade cast by a sharp diagonal cut in the building as a young lady erged gracefully.
Perla Lemaitre was dressed in a navy blue chiffon, midi-length dress and heels that brought her nearly level with both her father and Luca. Her dark hair was styled into a chignon, a classic look among affluent European won.
Luca could rate her a ten out of ten and a five out of ten at the sa ti. He didn’t know why.
"Hello, Perla. Nice to see you again," he said as he shook her hand.
Mr. Lemaitre tried to act aloof to Luca’s side gaze. This wasn’t a simple ride ho; Luca had just understood that.
There was an internal rush surging through the Hawthorne Empire to establish a "Rennick lineage," as Mrs. Hawthorne had proclaid that night.
Perla was a strong candidate. Mr. Lemaitre was very aware of this, which is why he wagered on shared youth to shape a certain future that would last for centuries.
"Are you the only Formula driver that doesn’t drive a sports car?" Perla asked from the passenger seat, her eyes scanning Luca’s newer Jaguar, F-type model.
Luca sighed, adjusting his seatbelt and his belongings in the back. Flicking on the ignition, he fiddled with the dashboard before replying to her. "This is my preference," he said, gripping the wheel.
"I’ll get you a sports car."
"Pardon?"
"When you take out for dinner. We need to outclass every other car in the parking lot."
Luca chuckled, reversing out of the headquarters. "Dinner, Perla? What makes you think I’ll take you out for dinner?"
"Father says so," she said, glancing at him and studying his face. "You’ve never thought we’re compatible. Why’s that?"
Luca only chuckled once more as they hit the road.
~~~~~~~
Back in the HQ, evening settled over the city. The facilities had mostly emptied, staff heading ho, the corridors echoing faintly with footsteps. Luca was long gone, too, his night with Perla untold.
Victor was the only one from the main crew to stay back, his shoulders heavy with fatigue and the sting of underperformance.
He was tired of feeling like the weak link. He wanted to step up and beco a driver worthy of Trampos.
Failure wasn’t an option for him because no other team would offer him sanctuary if he were cast aside from Trampos Racing. Normal life paths, like college, would then face him.
Victor flicked on the lights of the main training room, the machines and equipnt gleaming under the night brilliance.
His transformation begins now.
Dedication, focus, and will.
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