My Formula 1 System

The world was shocked that Antonio Luigi, the composed and calculating F1 World Champion, had done the unthinkable.

No one could quite fathom how the same man known for his calm interviews and precise driving could, in full view of cameras, hurl someone across the pitlane in a storm of fury.

"He really did this?"

"Antonio is capable of doing this?"

Whether seated at the few grandstands, leaning from balconies atop the surrounding buildings, pressed against the fences by the trackside, or lounging on yachts moored at the marina—every single soul present in Stellar, and beyond to the globe, found it hard to believe that Luigi would act upon his fury by hurling his own team crew member across the pitlane.

No one was more stunned than the unfortunate pit crew member who was Luigi's victim.

The guy suffered an ache down his arm because he landed hard on his shoulder and brushed against the floor for about half a meter. The disbelief in his eyes mirrored the pain, as he sat down frozen where he had fallen, his face drained of color.

The realisation that their team's golden man was the one who flung him like that in rage after losing a place on the podium was yet to sink in for the crew member.

In that stimulating moment, it even seemed that Luigi might have followed up the attack with punches. He had a tense posture, looking over the fallen crew member, who could only see him as a colossal shadow. The champion's fists were also clenched, clearly hinting he was ready to lunge again at the poor guy.

But before the thought of more harm could materialize into action, the surrounding crew members snapped out of their stunned daze and rushed to the rescue. Luigi's arms and shoulders were gripped, and he was dragged back from the stunned mechanic.

By this time, although the broadcasting cameras had missed the exact moment of the throw, the aftermath was clear in visual transmission, replayed in glances and murmurs across screens throughout the night.

The crowd was wild as Luigi was shown being ushered back toward his garage under the steady guidance of his crew, while the crew member he attacked was supported to his feet and tended to.

"...it looks like there's been an incident involving Antonio Luigi. Now, we didn't quite catch the moment on our cameras, but judging by the reaction and the commotion in his garage, tensions have clearly boiled over there..."

"...Antonio's a fiercely competitive driver, and you can imagine the frustration when things don't go according to plan—whether it's a strategy call, the tire blowout, or just the heat of the moment..."

"...That kind of passion is part of what makes him such a force on track, but sometimes it spills over in ways we don't like to see. Let's just hope the crew member involved is alright and that everyone in the team can cool things down..."

Crew members from other teams most near to Squadra Corse's garage, like Haddock Racing, had their judging eyes on Luigi, who was within the tight knot of bodies heading back to Squadra's garage. Unblinking glares came from most of them, their expressions filled with disapproval of the Black Dread's actions.

Some said they were disgusted by what they had seen, shaking their heads as an indication that they were ashamed of such behaviour. Murmurs of reprimand were exchanged, laced with contempt, and perhaps exaggerated anger from something that wasn't even directed towards them.

"All that just because he couldn't take the loss?"

"Over a fourth-place finish? Seriously?"

"Pathetic… the guy's a disgrace. Embarrassing himself, his crew, and the sport. Even rookies act with more dignity."

"No wonder nobody respects him anymore."

The most disappointed figure of all in the pitlane was Mr. Campanella. He still couldn't comprehend what happened, but no matter the manner, the gravity of the moment was too severe to ignore the repercussions that would be coming right after tonight.

Punishment from the FIA themselves was definitely guaranteed—perhaps a race ban or a brutal grid penalty that could send Luigi to the back of the grid in Australia.

Squadra management would likely add their own sanctions too, but that didn't concern Mr. Campanella because it would be focused on Luigi's actions. The FIA's, however, would sting more because such a penalty, or even penalties, would cripple an already struggling season.

As the crowded chaos of the paddock shifted around them, Campanella's expression hardened; he cut Luigi a sharp, disappointed glare as he passed, his eyes saying more than words ever could.

Luca, Damgaard, and Ailbeart Moireach—the podium finishers—found themselves lingering together for the first time ever. All three subconsciously savoured Luigi's meltdown without even realising they were.

Luca didn't even witness the incident, but the chaotic shouts were more than enough to piece together the picture. He was on his way to offer Ailbeart a handshake of sportsmanship, but instead, the duo stood there, side by side, watching with gossiping glee, as if the whole scene was an unscripted bonus show at the end of the race.

They both suddenly looked to their right to see who had interrupted their idle spectating, and it was none other than Damgaard.

For the first time in their careers, Luca and Damgaard showed actual sportsmanship with a firm handshake, Luca's brown eyes a contrast to Damgaard's sapphires.

Damgaard also extended the surprisingly nice courtesy to the second rival, Ailbeart. Both of them shook hands ceremoniously too.

Then after that, an awkward exchange followed, suggested by Luca of course. No one could believe it: Rennick and Damgaard exchanged their helmets, red and blue switching sides.

After a 5-star conclusion to the Monaco Grand Prix where they chased each other toward the finish line, Luca and Jimmy were somewhat proud of each other for bringing out the best in themselves.

Then, the trio turned back in unison, like synchronized gossipers, and resumed spectating together as if this bizarre alliance of theirs had always been a thing.