Adrenaline: A Lestappen Story

31- Blue Dagger, Red Blood

LAS VEGAS

RACE DAY

"Hate will keep you alive where love fails"

― Mark Lawrence, Prince of Thorns

In hatred was where he found determination. The bets placed and the odds calculated were all against him, but Max seemed unshaken when he walked into the paddock that day.

The Red bull driver was ever so confident of his win in that race. He knew exactly what to do, and in his head he could mentalize all the curves and nuances of the racetrack. He could visualize the cars behind him and the full duration of the race as if it was happening before him. In that way, he manifested the future, seeing himself rising on that podium with a first place trophy in his hands. In his mind there was nothing but a cold vacancy where there used to be thoughts of Charles. Like a machine programmed to win, nothing else occupied his mind aside from victory.

Despite his confidence, It seemed like not even his own team believed in him. When he entered the pits he wasn't greeted with the same enthusiasm as he usually was. Instead, the ones who did dare to approach him did so with a sense of pity. There he could read their minds, he could listen to their thoughts that spoke, "He won't be able to win this one, it's basically impossible. It's over for him before it even started, why would we all even bother?"

Without any words said to any of his mechanics or engineers, Max carried himself into his car's cockpit with the same dangerous silence as the one of the Netherlands Grand Prix where he had purposefully crashed into Carlos. There was an anger to him, but his mind was calm with a confidence that he'd achieve his plan, one which he had so perfectly crafted in order to win that race. He knew there was nothing that could possibly stop him from being the first in crossing the finish line that day.

Having delivered a perfect qualifying lap the previous day, Max started the race at pole position. And upon the start of the race, the blond's reaction speed to the starting lights of the track was with precise perfection. His car was the first to dart off the starting line and into the race, leading the pack of cars with an easy mastery taken from his years of experience in the sport.

As much as Charles attempted to keep his focus on the racing, his efforts were to no avail. Starting behind the two Red Bulls after a not so great qualifying on his end did nothing to ease the state of his emotional well-being. Seeing Max in first place worked as a constant reminder that this is what the man cared the most about in the world, not him. He'd gladly leave Charles in the dust to claim another trophy. Reality was a hard pill to swallow but even if Charles ended third, the Championship would be in his hands, all he had to do was to hold his position. And with that goal in mind he was able to put on a performance.

This race would be his last without a World title and seeing the happiness exuding from everyone who'd claimed him as the chosen one would make it all worth it. The energy in the garage had been electric and while the man was unable to share their pure joy, it did manage to put a small smile on his face and give him the push that he needed to win. He wasn't winning for himself, it was for everyone who loved and was devoted to Ferrari. It wasn't their fault that Charles had allowed his feelings to reign over the one thing he had always dreamed about.

Before the tenth lap had even been completed, Charles was up to second place having passed Checo without much difficulty but still leaving him a good distance behind Max. The win could go to Max but it would mean nothing— leaving Charles as the championship winner.

While the Ferrari driver could have let himself relax and focus on maintaining his pole position, he instead pushed his car to begin closing some of the gap between them. If Max wanted to leave him behind, Charles wasn't about to make it easy on him.