My Formula 1 System

From the 30th Lap onwards, the wild crowd refused to die down. Interlagos spiraled into pure chaos for nearly fifteen minutes before the first hints of calm even tried to surface.

And even then, the spectators clothed in Velocità blue didn't ease off.

They stood their ground with the full force of loyalty, waving their flags and banners high through the cold mist swirling beneath the grandstand roof. Their voices collectively rose in defiance, all of them loudly chanting against Jackson Racing and, especially, Luca Rennick.

The drizzle, now slowly building up into something heavier, still couldn't drown the deafening thunder of their voices. Every single chant came like a storm surge—unified, angry, determined.

And to think... this was light compared to what they were capable of. When a great fanbase of a team like Bueseno Velocità made their emotions known, the track itself seemed to shake.

It was all because of Jimmy Damgaard's crash in the 28th Lap, instantly termed a DNF the moment his tires waved goodbye to the curbs and slid helplessly off the track.

Luca's Side-by-Side King activated mercilessly, and he didn't even need to apply any real effort. Damgaard, with his low Racecraft, gave in to its pressure like bread soaking into water.

He was completely pixilated, unsure how his focus had suddenly shifted from battling Luca to simply trying to keep his car under control.

The crowd gasped as Damgaard's Red Bull danced and twitched like a first-timer on skates, while Luca zipped past without resistance. A glance in his mirrors gave Luca a troubling, calamitous view of Damgaard rattling violently over the curbs that tried to hold him in.

But the rear of the Red Bull gave way, pushed by the wind, and slipped toward the soaked São Paulo grass. The momentum dragged the car sideways into an untidy skid—one that reminded Luca too well of Max Addams' feat back in France last year.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHH!"

"Damn you, Jimmy. Those tires were never going to stick," Luca muttered to himself as the red flags was waved.

It was during the slow safety car parade that Luca finally looked up and noticed the atmosphere in the crowd. He rarely paid attention to the spectators mid-race because every ounce of focus had to stay on the drive.

But with the red flag halting the action, he found a second to lift his gaze… and there it was—the sheer magnitude of Interlagos laid bare before him. Over 200,000 fans, loud and restless.

Most circuits had irregular shapes, meaning their layouts weren't easy to define. And with an average distance of over 5km, they offered a mix of track and grandstand views spread far apart.

But Interlagos stood out. It was one of those rare tracks with a noticeably "round" structure. Not that the circuit was one giant loop of tarmac with a circular path—Interlagos had its own fair share of irregularities.

But from a bird's-eye view, you could almost trace the entire track within a single circle unlike other tracks.

With this compact appearance, imagine the altitudinous rise of the stands, how they lined and ringed around nearly every patch of the track like a woven crown.

Luca awed the expanse of flags, banners, shirts, smoke—raw passion flooding every inch of the view. But amidst the noise and color, one thing in particular caught his attention.

"...it looks like it's getting a bit wild here in Brazil, Alex. A driver is out, failed by his tires and the track, but his team is NOT happy. Velocità seems to be blaming..... Luca Rennick..?"

"...this is unwanton rivalism at a single driver. Race control have already announced no penalty for Luca Rennick. It's true and it's obvious—he didn't even touch Jimmy Damgaard. Pressure has always been a tool to forcing your opponent to bad lines..."

"...if only the thousands chanting now could hear you, Alex. If only..."

Luca couldn't believe what he was seeing from a Velocità grandstand.

Instead of the usual banners hoisted in support of DiMarco and Damgaard, they had HIS banners held up high in the air. And not in admiration.

These were just like that one he'd spotted back in Monaco—a massive red X slashed across his face, with harsh Italiano words scribbled all around it. His manageably handsome face, totally soiled and vandalized by their spite.

Luca furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of all this.

Mr. Matthews and the other Jackson Racing managers had seen it too, and they were already muttering under their breath.

This kind of... vitriol wasn't exactly new in Formula 1. There had been seasons when clashes erupted out of nowhere right in the middle of a race, when slurs were chanted loud enough to drown out engines, and when rival spectators literally set parts of grandstands on fire.

But it had been a while since anything of this level happened—this kind of total, unapologetic defamation.

"Traitor," one of Mr. Matthews' close men said. He knew enough about Italian just as he knew his own nativity. "That's the major context," he added.

Mr. Matthews frowned. "Why are they calling him 'Traitor'?" he asked. "He's never driven for Velocità, only Trampos. And Trampos don't seem to be making a noise."

The man beside him took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully to give a clearer picture.

"Luca is Italian by nationality. And I hope you haven't forgotten his part in Nevada's ban? Sad outcome. It's a pity. His father's team. They must've had high expectations…"

Mr. Matthews folded his arms as he pondered thoughtfully, piecing it all together. No wonder Velocità were tagging Luca as a "Traitor"—a traitor to Italy and the entire Italian Motorsport community.

Velocità, Squadra, and Nevada might've been bitter rivals on the track, but in a philosophical sense, they were still an unspoken unity for one country.

The three of them stood as Italy's motorsport triangle. And Luca had just shattered one of those pillars—Nevada. It was bound to send the whole structure wobbling.

Mr. Matthews glanced to the left.

No wonder Squadra were joining in on the defamation. Just as a sea of Velocità blue raised Luca's name and face with bold ❌ marks, so did another wave of black and silver. "Traitor" was still the loudest label.

**Luca, it's getting a bit crazy out there, but let's focus on the race**

"Yeah... I know. Just... hard to ignore it all."

**The safety car will be out soon, and that's what matters right now. Stay calm, stay focused. You've got this**

"Got it. I'm ready."