My Formula 1 System

One could say Nevada HanSama might just turn out to be like Outback Performance. The reason was that the team had begun showing the same signs Outback exuded when they dropped from the top of the competition.

First, they were no longer as feared on the track as they once were.

Second, their points tally over the past few seasons had fallen short of what the great Italian team was known for.

Now, they were slowly being pushed out of the rivalry discussions for the title of Italy's Kings, as fans increasingly focused on Velocità and Squadra.

Lastly, they had lost favor with their engine supplier, Ferrari, which had shifted its priority to Jackson Racing, just like how Outback lost Red Bull's backing to Velocità.

Jackson Racing had come by storm with new owners and a revamped board, gradually stripping Nevada of its most beneficial privileges season after season.

Even though some claimed that both Jackson and Nevada held equal standing with Ferrari, Luca knew that was a lie.

There was always a number one and a number two.

And now, Luca was given a choice between number one—Outback Performance of the beautiful country of Australia—or Nevada HanSama of the great country of Italy.

What choice would you make?

Luca kept his own words of advice to Isabella in mind as he told Mr. Fisher he would much rather prefer Nevada over Outback.

His reasons were simple, and one of them was that he needed to leave Trampos in peace—no feuds, no unresolved issues. Nevada HanSama was prepared to make that possible by offering both parties what they wanted.

Outback, however, was attempting to sway Trampos of a few extra million. A few million that a thriving F2 team could use to support and fund itself in many ways.

Another reason Luca preferred Nevada was obvious.

This was Nevada HanSama. This was the very F1 team his late father had raced for. The same team he had cheered for as a little boy when he was still as little as Harry. Of course, Luca would make this choice.

Besides, Nevada's primary color was similar to Trampos' red but carried a royal touch—Imperial Red.

But imagine it for Luca! Driving in the same livery, under the same banner his father once raced for! This was a dream come true, even though he realized he had never actually dreamt of it before.

Luca wondered if Nevada suspected he might be magnificent for them, not just because of his exceptional performance in the past season, but because his last name, shared with one of their legends from years ago, might just be a prophecy.

Luca was ready to make it come to pass.

He nodded firmly to Mr. Fisher.

Even though Luca's answer came out confidently, for the second time in that meeting, Mr. Fisher questioned him again about his certainty in leaving Trampos.

Luca was starting to get irritated by these repeated questions from his President. He understood that Mr. Fisher was just being considerate, but by now, it felt less like genuine concern and more like a safeguard and a way to later say, "I told you so" if things didn't work out for him in F1.

He wondered why so many people kept asking if he was being persuaded to join F1. How could someone even be persuaded? This was the dream of every driver below the highest division.

Even Mr. Lemaître, who had always envisioned him as an F1 racer and seemed fully supportive of his move, had called him the other day. After offering his congratulations, he followed up with questions strikingly similar to Mr. Fisher's.

Mr. Lemaître's questions were even more direct, almost as if he was asking Luca to reconsider and stay with Trampos. But Luca wasn't having any of it, not from Mr. Lemaître and certainly not from Mr. Fisher.

When it became clear to Mr. Fisher that Luca's confidence wasn't going to waver, he let out a silent sigh of defeat and nodded in acknowledgment of his decision.

Then, with a few final words, he assured Luca that he'd do his best to facilitate the transfer so he could join Nevada as soon as possible, long before the season opener.

He also mentioned that he had given them Mallow's contact number so they could finalize personal terms swiftly.

Luca thanked him as he stood to conclude the meeting.

Their hands met in the heaviest handshake Luca had ever experienced. He looked straight into Mr. Fisher's eyes with all sincerity.

"I'm really sorry, sir," Luca said.

Mr. Fisher pulled him into a brief hug from the handshake.

"I know, I know."

With a heavy heart, Luca left Mr. Fisher's office, recalling the first time he had stepped foot inside. He was a year younger, enthusiastic, with zero race wins to his name, searching for a place in the world of motorsport.

And now, after finding that place, he had chosen to search for another.

He sighed and descended to the ground floor, greeting and hugging the familiar faces working in the main building.

When he exited, he inhaled deeply, gathering the courage to meet the crew members.

Luca bounced out of the main building, heading toward them, until a sharp whistle from a woman caught his attention.

He glanced left at the parking lot, where a sleek, black Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine was parked.

Its body was lucent under the sunlight with tinted windows and chrome accents reflecting the surroundings. The tires were polished, and the renowned Spirit of Ecstasy ornament rested proudly at the hood's tip.

One of the windows slid down, revealing a woman with her head out, watching Luca.

He pointed at himself questioningly.

She nodded.

Curious, Luca walked closer.

He had noticed the limo earlier when he arrived but hadn't given it much thought. Now, with a better view, he spotted a deep emblazonment of Nevada HanSama's logo.

Nevada HanSama's logo was a trio of red arcs facing left, a straight red line beneath, and two smaller arcs forming an umbrella-like structure.

This vehicle must belong to an executive, Luca thought as he drew closer, unsettled by the lady's strange wide smile.

"Hello, Luca," she called out as he approached, her voice smooth and composed.

"Hello?"

"I'm Mrs. Coastfield. I represent Nevada HanSama Formula 1 team," she said before withdrawing into the limo and opening the door, revealing the grand interior.

Dressed in a black suit, pants, and heels, she sat poised, her dark eyes steady. "Come in. We have a lot to talk about."

Come in...?

Luca glanced left and right. Come in?

Yes, Nevada was the team he decided to race for minutes ago, but entering a stranger's vehicle went against every lesson his mother had ever taught him.

Mrs. Coastfield's brow twitched at his hesitation. "Honey, we don't have much time. We're not on home soil, okay? Come in, let's discuss Luca Rennick in a Nevada Ferrari for next season."

Luca exhaled, wrestling with his instincts. This should be right, he reasoned. She said "we" Was there someone else inside?

Mrs. Coastfield shifted, making space for him.

With one final breath, Luca climbed in, sealing his fate with the quiet click of the limo door behind him.