Dolce Vittoria | Formula 1

7 - Red Isn't My Colour

🏎 Race Day🏎

Alessandro's POV

My head bobbed to the music coming through my earpiece as I sat in my car, waiting for the grid to get ready.

I was starting P3 for the race, just behind Charles and Checo, who was on Pole position for the first time.

A>"Radio check?'

E>"All clear. Formation lap in 15 seconds."

All the mechanics scurried off the grid as the Rolex clocked ticked closer and closer to the start time.

I felt good about this race. The circuit was quick and left little room for error. After Mick's crash yesterday, everyone was on edge.

We had spent nearly four hours in a meeting, debating on whether we should be racing today or not.

Several drivers, including myself had expressed that we didn't want to race- especially with how close the missile attacks from yesterday had been.

I had driven Dakota back to her hotel, making sure she got there safely. On our way back we could see the black clouds of smoke billowing into the sky from the fire at the Aramco factory.

Despite four hours of deliberation and back and forth, it all went to waste. The meeting ended at 3 AM this morning and we headed back to our hotel rooms to get some sleep before the race this evening.

My body had been quite tired when I awoke late in the afternoon, but Aaron had worked his magic and now I was energized and ready to hit the track.

I took my time warming my tires on the formation lap, knowing it would be a while before all the cars lined up on the grid.

The 5 lights loomed over head, turning red one by one.

When they all went out, my foot slammed against the throttle, lurching the car forward towards Turn 1.

"Shit," I muttered to myself as Max's RedBull cut in front of me into Turn 2.

I spent the next several laps trying to keep the gap between Max and I to a minimum.

That is, until a yellow flag forced everyone to slow and bunch together.

E>"Yellow flag, Latifi in the wall."

A>"Copy. What's going on at the front?"

E>"Charles P1, Verstappen, Perez, you."

A>"P4?"

E>"Affirm."

On the restart, I managed to jump Perez, who was also at a disadvantage after losing time in his pitstop.

I was in P3 now, battling against Max for P2.

As we approached the turn, I pushed the car to cover off Max. A split second later, I spotted his car diving up the inside from my peripheral view.

A>"For fucks sake, he pushed me off. I was ahead."

E>"Copy, we are checking."

I bit back a response, suddenly aware of the very irritating "we are checking" reply that Ferrari was notorious for.

E>"Just a note, car's are having overheating issues and stopping on track."

Oh, how lovely.

Dakota's POV

"No power, I have no power," Alonso said, his pink Alpine rolling to a stop on the side of the track.