“Understood.”
I glanced at the digital display on the wheel—engine modes, tire temperatures, fuel levels—all within optimal parameters. The cockpit was stifling, but I welcomed it. It was part of the ritual.
“Fire up,” Lucas commanded.
I pressed the ignition button, and the engine roared to life behind me—pure mechanical power. The vibrations coursed through the chassis and settled into my bones. I felt connected to the vehicle, part of a larger entity built for speed.
Mechanics signaled that the path was clear. I released the clutch paddle gently and applied a touch of throttle, the car rolling forward smoothly. Navigating the tight confines of the garage, I emerged into the pit lane, the sun blinding for a moment before my visor adjusted.
“Pit limiter on,” Lucas reminded.
“Engaged,” I replied, ensuring I didn't exceed 60 kilometers per hour.
As I drove down the pit lane, teams and crew members turned to look—a mix of curiosity and skepticism evident even through their visors and headsets. I kept my focus ahead, my mind clear.
“Pit exit is clear. Track temperature is high—watch for reduced grip in the first few corners,” Lucas advised. It was unseasonably hot.
“Copy.”
Crossing the pit exit line, I deactivated the limiter and pressed the throttle. The car surged forward, theV6hybrid engine delivering instantaneous power. The G-force slammed me back into the seat as I shifted up through the gears.
Entering Turn 1, I braked early, feeling out the car's response. The brake-by-wire system was sensitive, the slightest pressure translating into deceleration. I navigated the apex smoothly, applying throttle on exit.
“How does she feel?” Lucas asked.
“Responsive. Balance feels good. Slightundersteerin low-speed corners,” I reported.
“Understood. We'll make note of it.”
I continued the lap, gradually increasing speed, the tires warming up and providing more grip. The Bahrain International Circuitunfolded before me—sweeping corners, tight hairpins, and long straights that begged for full throttle.
Approaching theDRSdetection zone before Turn 10, I tested the drag reduction system, feeling the decrease indownforceas the rear wing flap opened. The car floated, hungry for speed.
“DRS functional,” I confirmed.
“Copy that.”
Ahead, the unmistakable black-and-red livery of the Vanguard car came into view.Fraser.Even from this distance, I could see the aggression in his driving—the precision of a man who knew the machine as well as he knew his own body. He was everythingF1expected from a champion: ruthless, calculated, dominant.
“Fraser up ahead,” Lucas noted. “Gap at two seconds.”
“Permission to close the gap?” I asked, unable to keep the eagerness from my voice.
A brief pause. “Go ahead. Let's see what you can do, but keep it clean. Test the limits safely.”
“Understood.”
I shifted into a higher engine mode, feeling the extra power surge. The gap began to shrink as I pushed harder, braking later into corners, maximizing traction on exit. The tires gripped the tarmac confidently, in their optimal temperature range.
Approaching Turn 1, I was within a second of Fraser’s car—DRSdetection triggered. Exiting Turn 3, I activatedDRS, the car lunging forward as I closed in onCallum. He held the racing line—either unaware of me, or unbothered.
At Turn 4, I seized the opportunity. Late on the brakes, I dove to the inside, executing a textbook overtake. For a heartbeat, we were side by side, but I had the advantage into the corner. Clearing the turn ahead of him, a grin broke across my face.
Today, I hadn't just driven an F1 car—I hadarrived.
Theafter-partywasin full swing—music, laughter, and the kind of excitement that came from adrenaline still thrumming in veins. Drivers, engineers, and team personnel mingled in clusters, swapping stories and celebrating a successfulpre-seasonopening weekend.
But my attention wasn't on the celebrity chaos.
