GP Racers

Autodromo Nazionale Monza – Wednesday Morning

The Italian air was dry, crisp, and buzzing with the low hum of diesel transporters and mechanical drills. Trucks from every major team flanked the paddock like armored behemoths unloading their precious cargo. Amid them, the Vaayu GP garage was smaller, less flashy — but precise. Efficient.

Monza, the "Temple of Speed," was no place for hesitation. Every square meter reeked of history. And pressure.

Inside Garage 14B, Siddharth had rolled up his sleeves.

> "Alright, rear-wing balance offset by 0.2. Set up runs in high-speed config. We'll sacrifice a bit of downforce through Ascari, but we'll make it up on the straights."

The new locally fabricated endplates arrived that morning. Maya was already double-checking customs charges — anything to avoid surprise costs. Rina floated through the team area, snapping behind-the-scenes photos for social media, timing everything to Monza's racing prime hours.

Sukhman was in his race suit, seated on a stool, sipping water, watching the mechanics work on his car.

He could feel it: this place didn't tolerate mediocrity.

---

Elsewhere in the Paddock – Tensions Brew

News had gotten out.

Amelia Foster had teased in a Thursday presser:

> "Let's just say we've seen some surprising drop-offs from former champions lately. Maybe some drivers peaked last year."

No names — but everyone knew she meant Finn Carter and Lukar Meier.

Lukar had heard. And he was not amused.

> "People get bold when they finish fifth," he muttered to his race engineer. "We'll see how long the spotlight lasts."

Diego Montoya and Thiago Martins were spotted laughing at something on Diego's phone. A trending meme of Amelia photoshopped as a queen holding a tire like a scepter.

Callum Graves, ever the calm figurehead, barely reacted. But even he seemed slightly withdrawn — watching the younger drivers like a king wary of his knights.

---

Near the Garage — Quiet Conversation

Sukhman was walking back from his track walk, helmet in hand, when a familiar voice called to him.

> "You still walk the track alone like a romantic lunatic, huh?"

He turned. Charlotte Reid stood near her own team's motorhome, arms crossed, eyes shaded by dark sports sunglasses. Her platinum blonde hair was tied tightly, as always. Her race suit was already zipped up to the neck — she was all business, always had been.

But her voice wasn't hostile.

Sukhman smirked. "You say that like you're surprised I haven't changed."

> "Just... surprised you're still here."

There was an awkward pause. Last year's incident hung unspoken between them.

She had sabotaged his car — an act of desperation, pride, or something else. He'd covered it up. Didn't report her. Nearly died because of it.

> "Still hiding everyone's sins?" she asked quietly, almost a whisper.

Sukhman looked at her. "Still carrying them like a guilt?"

Charlotte scoffed softly. "We're racers. We don't carry things — we run from them at 300 kilometers an hour."

But her voice cracked slightly. Only slightly.

Sukhman changed the subject.

> "What happened to Ayanda Nkosi? She nearly beat Callum last year. Thought she'd dominate this season."

Charlotte's gaze drifted. For once, she looked away.

> "Ayanda… she had a daughter. Early this year. Didn't tell anyone at first. No press, no announcement."

> "Pulled out just before national qualifiers. Said she didn't want to split her fire. Told me, 'You only get one shot to be there for your kid's first steps. Racing's always here. My daughter isn't.'"

Sukhman absorbed that. He hadn't known.

Charlotte leaned against a barrier. "She was the fiercest driver I'd ever met. And she walked away without flinching. That kind of strength? I can't even process it.... for me racing is my only strength."

Sukhman looked at her. "You're stronger than you think."

She didn't respond immediately.

> "Don't make a habit of defending me, Singh," she muttered. "You already did it once. That debt's too big to repay."

Sukhman chuckled. "Maybe I don't keep score."

She met his eyes for a second. Then turned and walked away — head high, shoulders squared.

---

Thursday Evening – Vaayu GP Briefing Room

The team reviewed tire allocation, fuel mapping, and DRS zones. Maya distributed revised hotel schedules. Rina coordinated press timings. Siddharth gave a brief but passionate update on weight balance changes.

Arne entered last, dropped a folder on the table, and said:

> "This is Monza. There's no margin for error. It's not just about racing fast — it's about racing smartly."

He paused.

> "And no one's watching us. That's our strength."

Sukhman sat in silence, thinking of Charlotte, of Ayanda, of pressure and purpose in life. Priorities. Everyone had their fire. Some burned for glory. Some for redemption. Some are here just to survive.