A/N: This is a sequel to my GTE story, Prototype, where Jaune becomes a driver in Formula One. Thanks to my buddy on Discord, @Terminatr458, and there will be slight changes to this, forgive me, @Terminatr458... Hopefully, these changes won't bother...
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(Jaune's POV)
It's a hot first day of practice, and I am driving around the circuit in my LP-03 to warm my tires up. The practice program that I am attending is called Track Acclimation. It's where I have to follow the racing line of the circuit while averaging a time of 1:31.500. I think I can go faster than the targetted time. I round the last corner before turning on the ERS and pressing the DRS button. The speedometer climbs to 190+ mph before dropping drastically at the entry of Turn 1; I steer to the left and right before flooring it again. The Honda engine is screaming its lungs out as it approaches its redline. God, I love the exhaust that Cinder put in this thing! It drowns out the lame vacuum tone of the other cars. I drive on the racing line, and this thing grips like super glue! My eyes trace the circuit, and I don't blink at all. The other drivers give me the right of way. I exit Turn 18 with my foot flat on the accelerator, then my thumb presses the DRS button at Turn 20, and the LP-03 goes 10 mph more. At the entry of Turn 22, I slam on the brakes before steering through the faster corners. Before the entrance of turn 25, I use the DRS again and drive past the speed trap.
Emanuel: Okay, Jaune... Speed trap caught you doing 210 miles per hour.
Me: Not now, Emanuel!
Emanuel: Sorry, I had to say it.
I slam the brakes again at Turn 27, steer sharply to the left, and floor the accelerator to the start/finish line. The DRS wing is wide open, and the car accelerates like a F-15 Eagle on an afterburner. I crossed the line, and my steering wheel said I did a 1:30.983.
Me: I think I can go a little bit faster.
Emanuel: If you think you can go faster, then commit.
Me: You don't have to tell me twice, mate.
I continue my track acclimation program, and my pace begins to quicken. Lucas exits the pits so that he can clear the way. I wave my hand to thank him for giving me the space.
Me: Thanks for the space, Lucas!
My eyes trace the street circuit, and I am perfectly following the racing line. However, I hit traffic at the end of Turn 10 and almost crashed into the back of Alonso and Perez. My front tires lock up as I drift onto the runoff area. I punch my steering wheel in frustration.
Me: Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck?! Agh!
Emanuel (Radio): Jaune, are you alright?
Me: No, I'm fucking livid! The tires are fucked, and the data is messed up too! Agh!
Suddenly, Cinder patches into my radio, and she is unhappy that I am ranting like an unruly child.
Cinder (Radio): JAUNE, THAT IS ENOUGH! I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU SCREAMING AND CURSING LIKE THAT! NOW RETURN TO THE PITS AND COOL OFF! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
Me: Y-Yes, Cinder... I'll be there shortly.
Cinder (Radio): That's what I thought...
I get back on the track before returning to the IP garage. I stop at the booth before getting out of the car. Cinder is pointing at the driver's room, so I walk into the room, and then the Ravenette locks the door behind her.
