My Formula 1 System

On a gloomy Saturday, exactly one week after the Qatari Grand Prix, Luca decided it was time to restock his fridge. He had a few solid reasons for this. First, the obvious—he needed food; he had to replenish the one he'd consumed. Second, his diet required careful selection according to his system. He had to keep his house stocked. The thought of leaving home just to grab a missing ingredient irritated him, and he didn't want to keep bothering Sara for quick trips to the supermarket. Everything had to be present.

He already had a refrigerator and a deep freezer, both well-maintained but currently lacking supplies.

The third reason Luca had for going to the grocery store—one that was right on his mind—was that he was expecting a visitor very soon. In fact, the very next day, Sunday. And this visitor would be staying overnight at his house, meaning he had to make sure everything was prepared—whatever might be needed and whatever might be preferred for a meal.

It wasn't just any visitor, though. It was Isabella. She would be flying in from the UK to Berlin, then take a cab straight to Dahlem and stop right at Luca's house for the night.

When did this progress happen?

Ever since Luca's crash in Riyadh, he and Isabella had grown relatively closer over the phone—mainly because Luca had nothing to do but rest and recover. Two weeks ago, she mentioned that she'd be flying into Berlin for a seminar focused on the nature, engineering, and construction of hybrid engines, specifically A-level engines. Representatives from top engine brands would be attending, making the event both prestigious and highly informative. As a core member of Grid Edge, Isabella was chosen to represent her little group and gather insights from the event.

When she told Luca about it, he acknowledged her plans and assured her he'd book a nice hotel room for her, ensuring she attended the seminar without any stress, inconvenience or distractions.

However, Isabella suggested that she stayed in his house for one night before the event on Monday. Luca was nervous at the suggestion, sceptical about it, but later agreed. Now, he found himself preparing and making effort to impress a girl while she would be in his house.

Well, there wasn't much to do. His house was always neat, electricity was in abundance, the water supply was steady, and every essential appliance was already in place. The only thing left was to stock the fridge, and this ride to the grocery store would take care of that.

"Mal told me you spoke with one of the owners of Squadra Corse?" Sara asked, breaking the silence in the car as she drove.

Luca chuckled, already anticipating Mallow's tendency to share everything. "There wasn't much to it, actually," he replied.

"He didn't mention a potential transfer to Squadra?" she pressed.

"Nope, not a word. But I could tell he was hinting at it. He started with the Saudi GP, talking about how bad it was when Ansel's car hit me," Luca explained. "But honestly, I'm doing a lot better now. I'm pain-free, which is a relief. Still, I'm not sure why Mr. Ammermann and Caitlyn want me to keep wearing the bandage."

Sara nodded. "I'm no doctor, but I think it's just a matter of time before they say otherwise," she said, steering the car into the parking lot and looking for a space. "And after he sympathized with your injury…? Nothing else important came up?"

"Nothing," Luca answered, deliberately leaving out the rest of his conversation with Mr. Lemaître. It had mostly been about his driving skills and his potentiality of being a great F1 driver, with no mention of a transfer to the Squadra Corse senior team.

"Alright," Sara said with a sharp exhale, parking the car and cutting the engine. She glanced at Luca in the passenger seat, who was already removing his seatbelt. "I hope we're not wandering in like lost dogs. Did you make a list?"

"Yeah, I did. Almost forgot, actually."

"Good thing you didn't," Sara said, her hands fumbling over the dashboard as she searched the compartment between the driver's and passenger's seats. After a moment, she pulled out a black nose mask and handed it to Luca. "Here, put this on."

"A nose mask? Why?" Luca asked, though he still took it.

Sara gave a short laugh. "Where's your sense of public security, Luca? Let's go."

Luca slipped on the nose mask before stepping out of the car and following Sara into the large supermarket. As they approached the entrance, Luca paused when something on the side caught his attention. A large, vibrant board display stood there, filled with advertisements and posters. One in particular stood out, boldly featuring the words "Unaufhaltbar Trampos!"

Luca tilted his head to get a better look at the back display. His eyes locked on a photo of himself holding the Spanish Grand Prix trophy high. The image hit him like a wave, stirring up memories that brought both nostalgia and an odd dizziness. His heart raced, and for a moment, a dull headache threatened to overwhelm him.

Quickly shaking off the feeling, Luca glanced around and realized Sara had already ventured further into the store. Feeling a sudden insecurity, he adjusted his nose mask, ensuring it was securely in place before entering the air-conditioned supermarket. He grabbed a shopping cart and hurried to catch up with her.

Milk, Eggs, Cheese, Meat....

Luca pushed the kart while Sara picked the items on his list, making last minute adjustments and changes as well. She was familiar with this supermarket, having it being the one she often patronised ever since they came to Berlin.

What does Unaufhaltbar even mean? Luca wondered, his mind stuck on the caption. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the Germans were so into motorsport, especially Formula 2, considering Trampos was the country's dominant team.

Does this mean the majority of Germans or even all Germans were predominantly Trampos fans?!

Luca quickly pulled out his phone and hurriedly googled the meaning of the German word just to find out it meant "Unstoppable."

Unstoppable Trampos?

Luca hmmed to himself as he pocketed his phone. He offered to help Sara reach something on the top shelf, but she declined, her height making the task easy for her.

Luca glanced around the supermarket again, wondering if the lady and her two kids who just passed him were core motorsport fans and were devastated when Ansel's car slammed into him, his car tumbling and crashing and the announcement of his injury.

It sure seemed Trampos was stoppable now. Read new adventures at empire

The Qatari Grand Prix was making their championship victory look slim.

Albert Derstappen finished first in Doha. And no, he didn't start at P1 and finish there—he actually dropped to P6 and climbed back to the top over the course of fifty laps.

Sean Aaronson finished in P2, an agonizingly close position, especially with the way Albert Derstappen used DRS against him on the final home straight. It was so close it was almost a photo finish.

The third spot on the podium was a surprising one, mostly due to Miles and Max once again getting ahead of themselves in aggression, leading to contact that penalized both of them on Lap 43. This gave Oliver Kristensen an edge he hadn't had all season. And for the very first time this year, Retona Racing's Oliver Kristensen finished in P3.

Luca wasn't too upset with the result. In fact, he had expected it to be much worse. The rival he had hoped would drop points did drop points—Max Addams finished in P5, leaving the track in frustration and tossing his helmet across the asphalt.

Sure, Max's points advantage over him had likely increased, but 10 points for a P5 finish was far better than 25 points for a P1. Luca was relieved Max hadn't widened the gap beyond reach, though he felt a tinge of sadness for the Germans around him, who had to witness Trampos' absence from the excitement of the Qatari Grand Prix.

Luca hadn't expected Haas and Victor to make a significant impact, but they gave it their all. Finishing in P7 and P15, respectively, Trampos managed to salvage 7 points from the 10th round of the season.

Luca and Sara were halfway through their shopping, and the cart was already full. Luca offered to unload the items into the trunk of the car and return the cart while Sara chatted with a lady she had just met.

Luca rolled the cart out of the supermarket and into the parking lot toward the car. He opened the trunk and began carefully loading the items. Halfway through, he felt an urge to check the standings—as if there was an ongoing race and the rankings had somehow changed since he last checked them yesterday.

Luca went straight for the Drivers' Standings first.

PROVISIONAL DRIVER'S CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.

Position | Team | Points

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

1. | Max Addams | 155

2. | Miles Bellingham | 131

3. | Luca Rennick | 126

4. | Sean Aaronson | 126

5. | Ansel Hahn | 115

Damnit!

Luca was now in third. The same third he shared with Sean Aaronson. From being just one point behind Max Addams to now trailing by twenty-nine points.

He groaned in frustration, his fingers tightening around his phone as he navigated to the Teams' standings next. Maybe that would cheer him up. He needed to see something positive.

He hoped—prayed—that Trampos still held onto the lead, even if it was by the slimmest of margins.

PROVISIONAL TEAMS' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.

Position | Team | Points

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

1. | Trampos Racing | 248

2. | Bueseno Velocità Jnr. | 233

3. | Squadra Corse Jnr | 211

4. | Hatcherk Motorsport | 152

5. | Retona Racing | 82

Trampos still held the lead. Incredible.

By now, the championship battle had narrowed. It was already mathematically confirmed that Retona Racing was out of contention for the constructors' title. Even if their drivers miraculously won the next two rounds while every rival team suffered DNFs, it still wouldn't be enough.

Similarly, Hatcherk Motorsport had been eliminated from the title race. Their maximum possible points tally had been calculated at 242—a number Trampos Racing had already surpassed. This was why Aaronson, despite finishing P2, looked utterly dejected.

At least he still had a shot at the drivers' championship.

Now, only three teams remained in the fight: Trampos, Velocità Jnr, and Squadra Jnr.

Luca exhaled, switched off his phone, and rubbed his eyes.

He loaded the last of the groceries into the trunk, shut it, and turned back toward the supermarket.

He needed to clear his head—just for a day. Maybe when Isabella arrived, he'd have something else to focus on.

Re-entering the store, he made a point not to glance at that board again.