Wrath & Protest [Max Verstappen]

[n i n e.]

"Alright, Max, we both know how tricky this circuit can get,” he heard his engineer through his earpiece, “But we've made it through Free Practice and Qualifying extremely well. You got this.”

“Thanks,” Max said, gripping his wheel. Being near the start of the grid sent shocks throughout his body. It was nervousness, excitement, anticipation… All bundled up into one complicated feeling that caused some sort of primal desire to emerge within him. The screams of the surrounding engines only helped make his ambitions clearer to him:

He was going to score high this race.

One by one, almost as if taking an eternity, the red lights above the starting line turned on. All the drivers revved up their engines some more, and knowing that he had the greatest chance at overtaking Hamilton out of Turn 1, Max narrowed his eyes in focus. He readied his body for the sudden acceleration soon to come.

Without looking up, Max kept watch for the lights in his peripheral vision, and another eternity later, they were off.

He tightened his hold on his steering wheel in desperate attempt to keep control of his car as the two Ferraris behind him began their attack. One glance at his mirrors and already he could make out their strategy. Two red monsters creeped up on him from his left and right. For the first time in a long time, the Italian team was actually working as, well, a team. They were driving as one unit on the track.

But Max was only one driver, soon to be sandwiched if he didn't take care. The first right turn saw him braking as late as he possibly could, and luckily, he managed to get ahead of the both of them without sliding off the track.

Seriously, what the hell..?! Since when did racing turn into a tag team sport? He tapped the radio button on his wheel, “Do you see what they're doing?! I would have crashed right into them if it I hadn't pushed the brakes too hard!”

“Keep your focus on what's ahead, Max, you're still in second and we’ve got a lot of laps left. As long as you keep them in their place you'll be fine.”

Hamilton maintained a pace only less than a second ahead of him. Considering they were all riding the straight now, Max could continue on without risking time, as long as he could escape Vettel's and Leclerc's grip on his tail. He briefly considered moving over to the left of the track to get himself on the racing line early, but even a fool would know that doing such a thing would ensure an overtake for at least one of those guys. He was halfway through the straight now, and deliberating was taking too many precious seconds away from actual racing. He had no choice but to listen to his instincts.

And his instincts told him to drive faster.

Max increased the throttle as he approached the braking zone of Turn 4. An engineer spoke through the radio, “Be careful, Max. You're really pushing our limits. Slow down properly for this one.”

“I have no choice but to outrun them! There's no way I could overtake if they both pass me!”

“Please be mindful of your temperatures--”

Again Max slammed his foot down on the brakes, the two Ferraris still hot on both sides of his rear when he neared the right turn. He should have expected it, but he locked up as a consequence, and with his tyres and his brakes burning like hell, he skidded onto run-off area, allowing Vettel and Leclerc steal away provisional 2nd and 3rd places. His two rear tyres caught onto the kerb and he found himself stuck for a good few seconds. Pierre managed to avoid him.

“Shit, shit, shit… Fuck, I lost my cool. Sorry.”

“You have the rest of the race. Head up.”

As he began realigning himself, he paid attention to his mirrors to ready himself for a clearing, but what he saw kicked him back to his impulses. The moment he witnessed car number 9 battling wheel-to-wheel with number 3, sparks flying off their backs, Max had to take that opportunity to pass them both. He reversed and spun himself to enter T4, joining their fight and effectively turning the battle into a three-wide exiting the turn. Max took the outside, Ricciardo situated in the middle, with Burnouf taking a dive for the inside.

She took P6 from Daniel.

She took P6 from Daniel.

Max sped past them on the short straight heading into T5 and 6, breathing heavily and finding himself glancing more often than not into his side mirrors. He knew he had the superior car, but seeing that girl now behind him, charging at him, influenced him to start fumbling through his strategy, clumsily switching gears and checking the car's status with urgency.

As he turned left, he shook his head to clear his mind. The shake-up with the Ferraris struck him into a daze, but unlike them, Max could outrun the Toro Rosso. He could leave her in the dust and forget about her for the rest of the race.

So that was what he did.

Max successfully created a ten-second gap between himself and Burnouf on the 15th lap. He finally caught up with Leclerc in order to pass him and claim third place as his own. There remained two seconds between himself and Vettel, but Max doubted he could overtake him.

Vettel's current driving style was aggressive, more so than previous seasons. He was braking late whenever he could, finding ways to block Max in ways the FIA wouldn't notice, and bluffing pits and directions every time he thought Hamilton to be vulnerable. Max didn't notice it before, but Vettel… Vettel was desperate. And the Dutchman couldn't spite him for it. Desperation also seemed to pay off in the end, as Vettel managed to lead for the rest of the Grand Prix after Hamilton decided to go into the pits later than his rival.

Max Verstappen finished third place at the Bahrain GP, redeeming himself from the DNF in 2018, and looking to give Red Bull Racing back its glory in the form of champagne raining from the stage.