My Formula 1 System

This was the first time Luca had ever seen Ansel laugh until he was gasping for breath. All Luca could do was sit still and endure the teasing as the bus rattled its way toward the airport.

Luca groaned but couldn't help finding it a bit amusing. He sighed and turned away from Ansel, whose face had turned red from laughter. "You're supposed to have my back," Luca said. "Y'know you'd team up with Haas then."

Ansel finally caught his breath, still chuckling. "Forget that for now," he said between snickers. "You're going to sit at the pit and learn…" He paused, a grin stretching wide across his face, ready to burst into laughter again. "What did you call it?"

"Platinum program," Luca muttered, fueling the humor in the air as Ansel broke into another fit of laughter. Luca rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Mr. Grant will put me back in if Haas doesn't perform well in the first race."

Ansel wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and rested an arm against the window. "He better," he said, his gaze drifting to the road as he recovered from his laughter. "I've raced with Erik before, and I can tell you, the chemistry was nowhere near what we have. I need you there, partner. But that doesn't mean picturing you in reserve isn't hilarious," Ansel added with a smirk. "Just imagine you, sitting there… he he!"

"Alright, enough," Luca muttered, sinking deeper into his seat. He pulled out his phone, hoping it would distract him until the flight, saving his loud music for when he'd be on the plane heading to Monaco.

Mallow had messaged him earlier, warning that the planned benching could take a significant toll and jeopardize their sole sponsorship bonuses—potentially costing Luca over $100,000. Luca sighed. It wasn't even the finances or the potential profit that bothered him about being sidelined.

Taking a look at the Driver's Standings of the F2 Championship, Luca's concern deepened. The realization hit him hard that two races were more than enough for the standings to shift dramatically, creating an insurmountable gap that could potentially push him out of the top five. The thought gnawed at him that the climb back up would be brutal, no doubt.

Max Addams sat confidently at 43 points, tied with Ansel. Luca knew Addams was too consistent to place below fifth in any race, which could easily push his score past 70 after the next two races. The idea was troubling. Then there was Miles, whose points were neck-and-neck with Luca's. The only way Miles' tally wouldn't increase was if he somehow DNFed both races—an unlikely scenario. Aaronson, with a solid 23 points, seemed to creep into the background of Luca's calculations, but deep down, he knew he couldn't ignore the possibility of Aaronson making a substantial leap in the standings while he was benched.

Luca drew in a deep breath, pressing his back into the bus seat. System, please show me my status.

[Hosts status generating....

[..... Generation completed]

[Personal Information:

Name: Luca Rennick

Age: 18

Nationality: Italian ]

[Physical Information:

Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs

Height: 6'1"

Body Fat Percentage: 10%

Muscle Mass: 32%

Strength: 14

Stamina: 18

Endurance: 21

Agility: 17

Intelligence: 16 ]

Oh c'mon! I'm more than equipped! Just take a look at this!

[....listing paused.]

[Actually, host. You have only attained 29% of overall in your Attributes. You are doing well, but there is still a significant gap to acquire.]

Luca swallowed hard. Oh. He paused, trying to process what this gap truly meant. Does this include understanding my rivals too? He recalled Mr. Grant emphasizing that part of this platinum program was anticipating not just the machinery but the psyche of his competitors. I thought Intelligence covered that?

[This program does indeed fall under Intelligence and Track Awareness, in the same way responsiveness and speed are encompassed by Agility and Reflexes. Advancing these will contribute to improving Intelligence.]

"Hm," Luca murmured, eyes darting between the translucent System interface and the dull glow of his phone screen. The realization weighed on him. He needed to be proactive. Can you draft out a separate program, different from what my team has assigned? I want to draw from as many sources as possible.

[Certainly, host.]

[System will structure and draft a customized training program as proposed.]

[...listing resumed.]

The display resumed its rundown, and Luca's fingers tightened around his phone.

[Skills & Techniques: Total Grade - C

Reflexes: 18

Overtaking Skill: 19

Track Awareness: 15

Pitstop Prodigy: 5

Others (Locked) ]

[System will notify host once the training program has been successfully generated.]

Thank you, Luca thought, exhaling a long breath as he prepared himself for the short 1.5-hour flight to Monaco—a destination that, even in the wildest recesses of his dreams, he never expected to visit.

Before shutting down his phone, Luca took a moment to scroll through and reply to a few messages, re-engaging in his long, ongoing conversation with Harry. His thumb hovered for a moment when he reached a message he hadn't responded to in a while.

Gathering himself, he opened Isabella's message. To his relief, the "What do you think?" wasn't some profound inquiry but was simply a question about her choice of college. She had even attached several images that she must have taken time curating.

Italy was his homeland, yet Luca was clueless when it came to its universities. He examined the images, scrutinizing the prestigious architecture and uniforms with a newfound curiosity. Obviously, he picked the most impressive-looking one, and his mind drifted for a second, picturing Sophia donning that same uniform, attending classes with her usual flair. The thought coaxed a small chuckle out of him before he shut his phone off. By then, the bus had rolled to a halt at the airport.

The team filed out of the bus, moving in sync, their bags clutched tight as they stepped into the airport. Luca followed, pulling out his MP3 player and fitting in his earpiece, tapping the tiny buttons until the volume pumped up to the beat that fueled him.

This was it—his career as an official F2 racer, with eyes set firmly on F1. The benching might be a hurdle, but Luca was determined to make the most of the races that lay ahead, racking up points for the team, and more importantly, for himself.

Maybe, just maybe, if he delivered a solid performance in Monaco, Mr. Grant would reconsider this benching. Perhaps he'd see that Luca didn't need all this "refurbishing" he was talking about.