Friday Evening – Circuit Grounds, Team Vaayu GP Garage
Sukhman pulled off his gloves and helmet, face still flushed from the final Free Practice 2 run. Sweat clung to his temples, but it wasn't from physical effort. It was something deeper.
"I don't know, Harinder," he muttered. "The new setup — it's smoother, faster on exits — but… I am loosing traction in tight corners at times."
Harinder clicked open a performance tablet. "Telemetry looks good, man. You're gaining time at the Lesmo corners. That's something."
Sukhman sighed. "It's not just about gaining time. The car… feels different. It doesn't feels familiar anymore. Like it's not reacting to my inputs properly. It is something that I didn't face earlier."
Harinder looked up slowly. "You're saying—?"
Sukhman shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's in my head. Maybe I need some more practice to get familiar with this new setup. That's all."
---
Elsewhere – Vaayu GP Hospitality Suite
Raghav sat with Maya and Rina around a glowing tablet screen. The light cast shadows on their drawn faces.
"No sponsors signed since Monza," Maya said. "Some of our existing partners have put payments on 'review.'"
Rina added, "The optics hurt, Raghav. Two GPs in, and Sukhman's not making it to the main race. His comeback story is slipping."
Raghav leaned back, rubbing his temples. "He's not the problem."
"No," Maya replied gently, "but he's the face of our story. And a story needs momentum."
Raghav exhaled, looking out at the track from the suite window. "We will push through. Just show trust on him. Results will come."
But even as he said it, he noticed something. The paddock had changed. People who used to smile now nodded with guarded eyes. Conversations quieted when he passed. Journalists angled for rumors rather than stories.
Vaayu GP was being isolated.
---
Nightfall – Charlotte Reid's Private Room
Charlotte stood barefoot near the window, reviewing her data. Her brows creased.
"This can't be right…"
Throttle delay.
Steering angle corrections she hadn't made.
Her laptop chirped. An anonymous ping.
> "Observe. You're already adapting."
She stared, heart thudding. This wasn't the first time. Last week it was brake feel. Before that, torque vectoring mid-straight. Subtle changes — changes she didn't authorize — yet they always helped.
She replied with a single word:
> "Who?"
No reply.
---
Meanwhile – A Van in the Woods Outside the Track
Inside, glowing monitors displayed real-time streams: GPS traces, timing deltas, onboard footage. A man in a silver suit leaned forward, eyes fixed on the screen with Ravi's helmet view paused mid-corner.
Another man, towering built entered. "Phase Three is stabilizing. No detection from any technical staff."
The man nodded. "Then we escalate. Tomorrow, bring Montoya into shadow analysis."
The agent hesitated. "Montoya isn't… compliant."
"Then change his outcome."
He turned back to the whiteboard pinned beside the servers. Below the five-phase doctrine, a single phrase was written in black marker:
> "Control is born through chaos."
---
Media World – Friday Night Highlights
Across sports networks and social feeds, the hype machine roared for the upcoming Grand Prix.
> Jack Simmons: "Tomorrow's going to be electric. Callum Graves is back on pole hunt. Holtz is sharper than ever. And hey, let's not sleep on Charlotte Reid — her FP2 pace was no joke!"
> 🎙️ Whitney Moore: "Ravi Deshmukh's timing deltas were eyebrow-raising. The Indian rookie might just shake things up."
Articles flooded in:
"The Redemption of Reid"
"Sukhman Singh: Running Out of Time?"
"Tejas' Rising Star – Ravi's Revolution?"
Vaayu GP was barely mentioned. And when they were, it wasn't flattering.
---
Midnight – Team Vaayu GP Garage
Sukhman sat alone at the edge of the bay, helmet beside him, staring at the still car.
Charlotte walked in silently, still in her compression top and race trousers.
She didn't sit. Just stood behind him, her voice softer than usual.
"You ever get the feeling the car is trying to tell you something?"
He turned to look at her, surprised.
"Yeah. Today, more than ever."
She nodded. "Trust your gut. It's louder than the data."
Sukhman wanted to ask her something — about her strange tone, about the message last night — but she was already walking away.
---
Somewhere Else Secure
A flickering fluorescent light buzzed above. A rotary phone clicked as the receiver was picked up.
> "Integration is complete across three systems."
> "And Graves?"
> "He's not ours. But we have options. Montoya. Bellamy. Foster if needed."
The voice paused.
> "And Vaayu?"
> "Cracks are showing."
> "Good. Then it's time we prepare the next move."
The screen fades to black, the outline of a city glowing beneath satellite feeds.