My Formula 1 System

[Analyzing 2nd Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]

[2nd Position is 4 sec away, host.]

Four seconds was quite the gap between P1 and P2, but that was only because the drivers who had occupied that space the lap before were now in the pits, granting P5's Miles an uncontested inheritance of P2.

Luca remained in P1, with Miles in P2, the gap between them now stretching to 4.5 seconds.

Derstappen had pitted alongside Max and Aaronson, and they all exited the pit lane in the same order they had entered—Max first, Aaronson second, and Derstappen last.

With that, they slotted in behind Miles, completing the set: Max in P3, Aaronson in P4, and Derstappen in P5, narrowly slipping ahead of Kristensen in P6.

This structure held for the entirety of Lap 60, but as Lap 61 began, Luca made his move—diving into the pits for his final stop of this Formula 2 season.

**Crew is ready**

The diversion of the pit lane opened, and Luca smoothly tilted his wheel, leaving the main track with fluid grace, even though his damaged front wing had caused downforce issues.

Luca wanted this pit stop—this his last retreat to his fortress—to feel special, at least to him alone.

This might truly be the last time he'd run down the lane, stretching toward the Trampos crew waiting like surgeons ready to operate on his Dallara.

He surrendered his speed to precision, and time had never been more crucial.

"...Luca Rennick dives into the pit lane! This could very well be his final stop of the race—his last chance to get everything right before the final push to the checkered flag!"

Luca frowned when he passed Squadra Jnr's garage... after receiving passing-by slurs of course.

Just like his previous pit stop in the race, they were meticulously arranging every tool and tire, preparing for what seemed to be a pitstop for one of their drivers as well.

In fact, they were already in position, just like Trampos' own crew, clearly waiting for their incoming driver.

Luca quickly realized that it was Miles preparing to pit, not Derstappen, who had already stopped not too long ago.

And the moment that realization hit, his heart sank!

First things first, as he approached his own garage, he instinctively glanced at his side mirror to confirm. And there it was—Miles' black and golden livery entering the pit lane.

Now, Luca's heart really sank!

"No. No. No. Miles can't be pitting now. Not now!"

"...A big surprise here, Miles Bellingham is heading into the pits as well! This could be a crucial moment in the race, with both the leader and his close rival making their final stops at the same time!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Luca was certain this was a calculated move, orchestrated by Mr. Mancini and his entire crew! They had timed Miles' pitstop to align perfectly with his own, setting him up to take P1 over time.

This was Squadra Corse Jnr's play.

Max, Aaronson, and Derstappen had only completed two out of the three pitstops required today. If they didn't take the final stop soon, they'd be running on borrowed time which could result in either breaking down by Lap 72 or stretching it to Lap 74. And pitting that late in the race was always a nightmare. But regardless, they had no choice.

However, Luca and Miles were the only two top drivers opting to get their third pitstops out of the way early.

And with Luca carrying a 5-second penalty, he would undoubtedly stay longer in the pit box than Miles, even if Pitstop Prodigy worked at more than its current value's efficiency.

That meant Miles, uncontested for the brief window, would exit first, rejoining the race behind Max, Aaronson, and Derstappen at P4.

Luca, on the other hand, would come out at P5 or P6, depending on Kristensen's pace.

Then, when Max, Aaronson, and Derstappen were inevitably forced to pit in the closing laps—or risk sudden mechanical failure—the track would open up for Miles to inherit P1 without resistance.

Luca didn't even know how he'd explain this to Trampos as he coasted into the box, watching all 14 crew members rush to his Dallara with single-seater parts in gloved hands.

From his mirror, he spotted Miles, smugly seated in his cockpit as figures in black and gold swarmed around him.

Luca had begun to have sharp eyesight. Sharp enough to see past Miles' visor, where his eyes gleamed with malicious intent, confidence, and the certainty of victory.

Zip!

"...Max Addams in P1!"

"WOOOOHH!"

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"...Sean Aaronson in P2!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Luca gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel tighter as his Dallara came to a stop precisely on the marked pit box.

The moment his tires locked in place, his Pitstop Prodigy system activated, displaying a real-time countdown as the Trampos crew swarmed his car with machine-like accuracy.

The front jack lifted the nose instantly, and the four tire changers lunged forward, electric guns screaming as they tore off the worn rubber.

Simultaneously, another set of young mechanics reached for the new front wing, aligning it with millimeter-perfect accuracy before locking it in place.

Luca's focus remained glued to his display, tracking the pit timer, but his peripheral vision caught movement beyond the blur of bodies working on his car.

Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton were outside, pushing their way toward him through the controlled chaos of the pit lane.

The tires were on as fast as possible. The wing was secure within a second. The Trampos crew dropped the car, but Luca couldn't go anywhere yet.

[Pitstop Prodigy +1]

[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 87.5%]

His penalty time had just begun.

Five agonizing seconds.

"...And Luca Rennick is stationary in the box, serving his five-second penalty! This is the worst possible timing for him!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Luca's instincts screamed at him to launch forward, but he had to sit still, his fingers tightening around the wheel as the seconds dragged and McCauley counted.

Mr. Grant leaned toward his cockpit. "Stay calm, Luca. Stay calm."

Ms. Vallotton spoke next. "We just got some bad prediction Miles will have the upper hand," she said, taking one brief glance at Squadra's pitbox far away. "Damnit. They're almost done."

"...Meanwhile, there we have it—Bellingham is already getting serviced and WILL be out ahead of Luca!"

"... Luca Rennick can do nothing but sit there and wait! This is painful to watch for the Trampos fans!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Luca looked up at his Team Principals from his cockpit. He was glad that they were able to understand what was going to happen.

"Oh, he's coming," Ms. Vallotton said as she and Mr. Grant leaned away from Luca's car.

Luca's eyes moved to his side mirror just to see nothing.

A blur of black and gold streaked past.

Miles.

Luca's jaw clenched as Squadra's No. 75 roared down the pit lane, his fresh tires biting into the asphalt as he merged back onto the track.

The Trampos crew erupted in furious shouts, hurling slurs at Miles and his team.

"...Miles Bellingham ROLLS out of his box while Rennick is still frozen in place!"

"WOOOOHH!"

The final second for Luca ticked down.

Green light.

He slammed the throttle and he pounced forward, fueled by the supportive cheers of everyone in red he just left behind.

His Dallara rocketed forward, tires screeching as he tore down the pit exit, the fire of his system literally burning in his chest.

"...And there it is! The five seconds are up! Trampos releases Rennick back onto the track!"

"WOOOOHH!"