My Formula 1 System

Thud! THUD! THUD! THUD!

Those weren't just footsteps, they were the battering of war drums in Luca's ears, each one syncing with the panic racing through his chest.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHH!"

"..FIRE..!"

".. THERE'S FIRE...!"

"...THERE'S FIRE AT THE EDGE OF THE TRACK...!"

Thud! THUD! THUD! THUD!

Pant! Pant! Pant!

Luca's breathing was a ragged melody, gasping for air that refused to fill his lungs. He ran like an unstoppable beast, heavy like an elephant, driven by the primal need to save. The hot tarmac was scorched with black marks that Ansel had left in his path of chaos.

[Breathing: Spiked!]

Each breath burned in his throat, the air itself searing hot from the flames that devoured the car at the runoff. His heart pounded like a thousand pistons, each step faster than the last.

Urgency corrupted every fiber of his being, turning his legs into springs coiled with desperation. He sprinted down the track, faster than any Olympic runner, an athlete's grace, but a brother's fear. Attributes were one thing; instincts were another.

Urgency corrupted his limbs as he sprinted down the track more faster than an Olympic runner because of his Attributes. Luca knew he had to get there as fast as he could because marshals were generally slower, and from what he could see, this was no ordinary crash or fire.

The cameras locked onto Luca Rennick as he sprinted across the track, his helmet already tossed aside mid-run, the balaclava yanked from his head and flung behind like a spent layer of skin. Both objects clattered to the searing asphalt, loud enough to echo through the feed, and the thundering of his boots followed, each footfall a declaration of his refusal to slow down.

"—Look at that! The car is engulfed! This is what no driver wants to see—flames that high are dangerous!"

"—Hay fuego! Dios mío, el coche de Ansel está en llamas..!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHH!'"

Luca hadn't even hesitated. He'd leaped out of his cockpit the very instant he saw those infernal flames roar up from the Ferrari's chassis, that monstrous fireball that threatened to swallow Ansel whole. Abandoning his own machine, he'd let the system desync him from the 97, cutting the lifeline that had bonded him to his race. Nothing else existed now but the heat, the danger, the driver who's life was suddenly at stake.

Mandalora was thrown into shock with the way Ansel's Ferrari had immediately caught fire. Smoke thickened in the air, a sinister curtain of blackness that painted the sky with horror, and the helicopters had gathered around to get a clearer view.

Luca's eyes were locked on that flaming car, but also searching for any nearby marshals who were approaching. A siren could be heard wailing from afar. Afar?! And the marshals he saw jogging weren't even close to Turn 5, where Ansel's crash had happened—they were still near the pitlane!

[>>>

┌———T4┐

T3 T5—┘

| └—T6---

|

|

└T2——T1—————=————

<<<]

Some drivers had zoomed past, while others had slowed down and exited their cars too, watching as Luca approached that radius of heat.

Bear in mind, this all happened within 15 seconds of the crash and the moment the fire had erupted, meaning Luca's sprint down the track was astonishingly fast. He reached the edge of that heat two seconds later.

Even though his heart was pounding like a drum, he could still hear Ansel's groans inside the Ferrari, now smoking and coughing up black clouds. The car was swallowed deep by the trench, tilted to the side and making it impossible for Ansel to stand up and exit the conventional way.

He'd have to be pulled out. Luckily, Luca saw his gloved hand wiggling for help!

"Ansel!" he yelled like a beast as he knelt down on the scattered debris, the overhead fire licking and steaming his face but he didn't care.

Ansel muffled something in reply, his voice lost in the roar of the flames, so when Luca asked him to repeat, Ansel yelled even louder, pushing out the last of his oxygen in a desperate scream:

"I CAN'T BREATHE!"

Panic seized Luca immediately, but he registered the words and dove his upper body deep into the car, working towards removing the helmet and getting him out.

The cameras captured every second in that blur of heat—Luca's frantic movements as he tried to reach Ansel while the marshals were seen running from all ends of the circuit. It seemed like this portion was so distant from every checkpoint that Luca was the only one who could reach Ansel in time.

"Gaaaaaahhhhh!!!!"

Ansel sucked in not-so-fresh air, but was still 100% better than what he had been stuck with inside the helmet, as Luca helped remove the balaclava too. Ansel's handsome face was revealed, sweat-streaked and covered in ash, but his eyes met Luca's with an expression of pure gratitude and thanks.

"CAN YOU BREATHE NOW?!!"

"Yes!"

Luca nodded strongly, his mind already racing ahead to the next step. He didn't even bother looking around to check if the marshals were any closer. He just continued, his focus entirely on Ansel.

"I've already removed the halo—" Ansel said quickly. The halo, that protective bar, was gone; Ansel had somehow managed to unstrap himself. So now it was just a matter of pulling him out.

This was good news to Luca. He had no idea how he would have managed that step alone in this heat.

He clasped Ansel's hand in a fierce grip, and the two of them locked eyes with a shared determination.

Without even counting to three, they both began to groan and strain as they worked to pull Ansel out.

"Argghhhhhhh!"

"WHAT'S WRONG?!" Luca barked, sensing Ansel's sudden hesitation.

"My… my leg… right foot… it's stuck," Ansel managed through clenched teeth.

Finally, Luca looked around with a hopeless expression—the fire, the thick smoke—but seeing that the marshals still hadn't arrived yet, he decided there was no choice. He would have to go in. The car must be mangled, he realized, that's why Ansel's foot was trapped.

After quickly telling Ansel his plan and getting a nod of agreement, Luca readied himself to dive into that tight cockpit. But then a hissing sound stopped him cold.

He slowly reverted back to a kneeling position, tilting his head to truly assess the sound. It could only mean one thing.

Ansel's wide, terrified eyes locked on him as the hissing grew more intense, each second louder and more urgent.

The fear in Ansel's eyes sent a shiver down Luca's spine, but he didn't give up. With a last look of determination, he slid himself further into the cramped cockpit and reached down to free the stuck foot.

Clasp!

Their hands gripped again in a show of raw strength and desperation, and Luca let out a primal roar as he pulled, tears streaming down his cheeks. He threw his head back and his eyes were locked on the smoke-saturated clouds above as he pulled with everything he had left.

The fiery blast that followed blinded him and burnt his face, but he felt no true pain.

"…OH, DIOS MÍO!"

The only thing Luca remembered afterwards was someone's fingers slipping from his own, a strange external force pushing him away. Luca couldn't help but collapse onto the asphalt, his body going limp as the darkness claimed him.