Race Control had a mandate never to let a Grand Prix lose its spectacle due to a yellow flag or any other hiccup. So, it had been a race within a race, executed by the marshals, the stewards, and the clerks who acted as the track’s nervous system. The cheering fans on the balconies and patios really had no idea of the invisible choreography that maintained order and continuity.

On the ground, the marshals had cleared the debris from the racing line in a matter of seconds, sprinting across the hot asphalt to retrieve shards of carbon fiber that could have caused a puncture at 300 km/h.

In the tower, the stewards had verified that no one had gained a significant unfair advantage during the caution period.

Once the Track Clear signal crackled through the headsets, the race organizers transitioned the event back to life with a single command: Green.

That awakened the cars from their sloth.

And within the first lap, moves were already being made as if they’d been waiting for eternity.

By the second lap, the field exploded, marking the 45th Lap of the Grand Prix.

Still the leader, Luca’s launch was amplified by his skill. He took to the wings and put nearly a second into the car behind before they had even cleared the first braking zone.

"...The lights are green and the race is totally back! Only a handful of laps to crown the champions of Baku...!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

The carbon fiber shards that scattered across the asphalt were a testament to the clash between Di Renzo and Luis Dreyer.

Their mid-race collision had been a clumsy affair of overlapping wheels at the apex of the street, and maybe overlapping egos, too. Apparently, it had been a moment where the sun seemed to have boiled their common sense, and it led to disaster for both teams.

As the race resumed its frantic pulse, the price of that contact was being paid in full.

The JRX-97 had suffered the most damage. Its front wing sat slightly at a grotesque angle. With more air pressure hitting it out of position, it might soon fall so low that it could drag against the asphalt.

Behind Di Renzo, Dreyer’s chassis faired no better. When they had collided, it was the Ferrari’s wing that scraped against the floor of Dreyer’s car as it bounced skyward, leaving the Red Bull with compromised stability that made the car twitch at every high-speed corner.

Both drivers: P9 and P10 respectively.

"My balance is gone," wailed Dreyer to his pit wall.

**Copy. But stay out**

**We don’t have the gap to box. If we come in now, we’re out of the points**

**Just... hold the line**

But holding the line was a fantasy. Behind them, the hunt was on.

Like a flood finding a crack, Rutherford and Nyström had positions to take, and two compromised drivers were occupying them. They had clean air, perfect thermal windows, and cars with integrity.

The disparity was so brutal that Jackson Racing and Outback fans quieted after the wipeout in what was five laps to the finish line.

Denko made short work of Dreyer. When the Red Bull refused to rotate efficiently at the Maiden Tower monument of T11, Denko made a smooth pass without resistance before they even reached the braking zone of the next turn.

Seeing this, Di Renzo tried to defend the inside line, but with a compromised front wing, he couldn’t generate the downforce needed to stop the car. He had to brake twenty meters early, his tires smoking in desperation.

Denko didn’t even need ignite power. Simply swinging away from the Ferrari was enough, and he swept past with ease.

Once he laid the template, it was easy for Nyström to do the same.

It was a rare sight to see the Audi passing cars, clearly faster than it was, with contemptuous ease.

"...IF YOU AREN’T 100% PERFECT, YOU’RE A TRAFFIC CONE OUT THERE! THAT’S THE RULE...!"

"...Luis and Di Renzo are sliding down the leaderboard, while Rutherford and Nyström have already turned their eyes toward the leaders. The hunt continues, but for the two at the back of this group, it’s more of managing their race...!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

******

Meanwhile....

"Just like Luca..."

"Just like Luca..." Victor repeated, his heart pounding hard against his chest.

But the words sounded wrong the more he said them.

Was that the right mentality?

Or was it better to be your own driver not someone else?

Victor didn’t know. He didn’t have the answers now. Matteo definitely did because his confidence assured nothing less.

Within the first 150 meters of the second recovery lap, Victor gained. Not by much—but enough. Two tenths flickered on the timing tower.

Then the characteristics flipped.

As speed climbed, Matteo’s setup began to dominate. It was well known that the RbioL was built for a Sustained Velocity curve. That means the unit favored better energy release, preventing the rear tires from scrubbing and overheating.

So, while Victor gained on the initial punch, the Tempesta allowed Matteo to stabilize and begin the slow, agonizing process of clawing back time as they crested 320 km/h.

Through the technical section, Victor’s aerodynamic compliance gave him sharper rotation on entry, pivoting the car way faster than Matteo’s could ever which made him maintain his lead.

It was the beauty of the JYX-81 against the RbioL.

Matteo’s car made him smoother through the middle, but the 81 helped Victor fire out of the exits.

How frightening would it be if the machines were swapped?

Give Matteo the JYX-81, and that surgical mid-corner precision would suddenly gain explosive exits—no longer just maintaining speed, but launching out of corners with authority.

Every apex he perfected would become a springboard!

Then put Victor, a developing tank, in the RBioL, and you might have something even more unsettling.

His mistakes would be reduced, his inputs applied and cushioned perfectly when needed, and his confidence amplified.

One gains firepower.

The other gains absolute control.

*****

"No," Victor said with conviction.

"Just like me."