My Formula 1 System

The Qatar Grand Prix had finally come to a close, an outrageous race that would be replayed for years to come. What an end to such a race. Many teams would wish to forever forget the Qatar Grand Prix, many teams might remember it as a hurting round that was filled with so much uncertainty and catastrophe. But for Luca and Trampos, it was the second race of the season they had dominated and claimed gold.

The team decided to pack up two days after, and chose to leave the glamour of Qatar even though the host had prepared a victory ceremony for them. All paddock operations were wrapped up, equipments reloaded, and with celebration still in their veins, departed to their home nation of Germany.

Luca boarded the Hawthorne 3 with his personal team, and while they celebrated opulently on the plane with luxurious and affluent things, Luca decided to lean back on the window, pull his hoodie down and let himself sleep past the transition of the 3rd round's conclusion.

They arrived in Berlin when it was approaching 8 PM. And as an endowed figure he was, Luca's team always made sure everything was ready for his seamless transportation from airport to hotel room that had already been booked.

At Tegel Airport this time, the SUV that waited was the usual kind of executive ride. It was a small fleet, enough to be called a convoy, and Luca entered the same vehicle with Mallow and Manuela. Mallow humbly asked the driver if he could take the driver seat. The driver was alleviated of his duties and joined another car instead while the trio occupied the first SUV alone.

Luca always grew uneasy whenever Mallow took the wheel of any vehicle, so he was naturally sceptical about the decision to let him drive tonight. But Mallow waved it off with a "Relax, champ," and swiftly pulled out of the airport zone onto the broader commercial roads that bled into the heart of Berlin. Behind them, the rest of the team's convoy, all sleek black SUVs, followed with synchronized elegance, though that coordination would slowly dissolve into the city's thickening traffic.

Surprisingly, Luca was still groggy, heavier than he should've been after just a flight. The entire journey felt like a dull, wandering dream he couldn't properly wake from. His eyelids refused to stay up, his limbs felt unusually frail, and beneath his hoodie, he felt an odd inner chill prickling through his skin like fine needles. There was a creeping fragility about his body he didn't like at all.

Luca recognized these weird changes in his body; he had felt it many times over the years when he was about to get ill. So, he turned to the backseat where Manuela was seated.

"Manuela, please book a doctor's appointment as soon as possible. Something's off with me. I think I'm coming down with something... maybe flu."

Manuela saluted with a firm nod and quickly reached for her phone. Luca, also trying to stay ahead of whatever was happening to his body, unlocked his own and opened a chat with his private doctor, briefly describing the symptoms—cold skin, sluggish limbs, and a strange weightiness pressing on him.

While waiting for a reply, he began to scan through medical forums and reliable health websites for possible explanations. Luca didn't know how, but somehow his navigation drifted back to the world of Formula One. The internet was filled with F1, so it wasn't his fault.

One tab led to another, and before long he was staring at articles recapping the Qatar Grand Prix, headlines praising his composure in chaos, and slow-motion replays of the heat wave laps. Luca decided to check out the standings after the 3rd round.

PROVISIONAL DRIVER'S CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP10)

Position | Team | Points

--------------------------------------------

1. | Luca Rennick | 66 (+1)

2. | Ailbeart Moireach | 40

3. | Antonio Luigi | 45

4. | Jimmy Damgaard | 35

5. | Luis Dreyer | 34

6. | Marko Ignatova | 32

7. | Buoso Di Renzo | 18

8. | Hank Rice | 10

9. | Denko Rutherford | 9

10. | Elias Nyström | 7

Luca was satisfied to see that it was a very great start to the season with his name etched firmly at the top—sixty-six points, a full twenty-one clear of his closest rival. It was the kind of margin that silenced naysayers, especially those who had scoffed when he signed with Trampos, saying he'd never be able to thrive outside the shadow of powerhouse teams.

Now he was not only leading, but doing so ahead of super drivers like Luigi and Moireach, names previously treated as untouchable. Unless he suffered a full DNF in the next round, Luca was poised to keep the crown for at least one more race weekend.

He had a smile on his face when he checked the Constructors' standings and saw Trampos Racing seated solidly in second place. Just behind Squadra Corse, but ahead of Haddock, whom they had just overtaken after both Haddock Racing drivers failed to fruit a single point in Qatar.

PROVISIONAL CONSTRUCTORS' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (ALL 10)

Position | Team | Points

-----------------------------------------------

1. | Squadra Corse | 76

2. | Trampos Racing | 65 ↑

3. | Haddock Racing | 49 ↓

4. | Outback Performance | 40 ↑

5. | Bueseno Velocità | 35 ↓

6. | Jackson Racing | 18

7. | Iberia Grand Prix | 11

8. | Nordvind Racing | 7 ↓

9. | Velox Hispania | 2

10. | Alpine Swiss F1 | 0

Everything was looking tight, and so, Trampos' performance was impressive and they had a clear shot at the championship. But Luca knew very well that they would be accumulating more points if he wasn't the sole-pointer in the team. If Victor could just piece together a consistent showing, even a few mid-grid finishes, they might have already overtaken Squadra Corse by now. This was exactly how Marko Ignatova was helping Luigi and the team to success.

Being ten points adrift them while carrying the full burden alone was a stat no top team should be proud of, and Luca felt it. So, he hoped Victor would only get better because the future of the team's glory relied on full teamwork. Because he was already ruling his own Drivers' Championship race.

Luca ceased his thoughts and switched off his phone when their SUV eventually pulled into the underground entrance of the hotel, where staff were already waiting with tags and carts, ready to receive them like royalty.

Luca reciprocated no real attention to the pleasantries that welcomed him as he quietly threaded through the lobbies with his team to their suite. He got to his own door, and once the keycard touched the scanner, he stumbled in, peeled off his jacket and shoes and headed straight for the bathroom without a word.

The shower helped a bit, but not enough. Whatever fatigue clung to his body now had weight and shape. He skipped dinner because of the nausea, and hopped into bed, hoping sleep would drain everything away.

It was either the sleep would cure everything or would make it worse.