Monday, Netherlands — Circuit Zandvoort, Pit Lane
A gust of salty wind carried the scent of the North Sea as waves crashed just beyond the coastal dunes. The narrow, undulating Circuit Zandvoort awaited — a track unlike any other. Banked corners. Unforgiving gravel traps. Constant winds. It was a track that punished hesitation and rewarded instinct.
Sukhman stood near the pit wall, eyes squinting at the horizon as engineers bustled around him. Vaayu GP boarded the very next plane after all unessential things like interviews and other stuff. Motive — simple to het some rest before next GP and some more time to polish the team performance. The weekend had not even begun, yet pressure simmered — not from expectations alone, but from within.
Charlotte whose team also tagged along for some reaseon, walked past, helmet under arm, her racing suit unzipped halfway as she paused near him.
> "You ever raced on a circuit like this?"
"Only on sim. Never felt this kind of air though," Sukhman said, breathing deeply. His face is looking satisfied from comfort.
Charlotte glanced toward the sweeping turns.
> "This place... it doesn't forgive timing errors," she murmured. "Just be sharp."
She walked off before he could reply.
From a distance, Harinder observed. He smirked.
> "You two gonna keep doing this unresolved chemistry thing or…?"
> "Shut up, Harry. For God's sake."
> "Hey! I told you no curse words upon God."
> "I am not cursing you idiot."
This way they started their shenanigans... again.
---
Meanwhile – Vaayu GP Garage
Maya flipped through a budgeting chart, visibly annoyed.
> "The new rear wing package for Zandvoort better work. If not, it's the last one we can afford before Mumbai."
Rina glanced at the screen where promotional clips of Sukhman played on loop for media buildup.
> "Public sentiment dipped after Barcelona," she noted. "But that podium... it helped. If we get another strong finish here, sponsors might return to the table."
Raghav remained silent. He was watching race replays from last season. Specifically — Jia Tan.
---
Elsewhere – Jia Tan's Garage
The Chinese driver leaned on the rear wing of his car, expression unreadable. A technician approached, hesitant.
> "Telemetry inconsistencies — still unresolved," he whispered. "We suspect sabotage... but it's subtle. Nearly undetectable."
Jia narrowed her eyes.
> "Who knows?"
> "Just us. And the engineers you trust."
Jia nodded, wiping sweat from his brow.
> "Keep it that way. And double-check the firewall."
---
Thursday Evening – The Media Tent
The PR circus had arrived.
Every top driver sat at the long panel table. Cameras flashed. Questions flew.
> "Callum, with your championship lead growing, is there still hunger to push every weekend?"
> "Always. I don't race to protect leads. I race to win."
> "Erik, your performance has surprised many. Do you consider yourself a contender now?"
> "Not so sure for now. How about you ask me again after Mumbai," Holtz replied coolly.
When the mic reached Charlotte:
> "Some reports claim you and Sukhman have patched things up personally. Does that affect the track dynamic?"
She raised a brow.
> "I didn't know being civil was newsworthy. Maybe ask something about racing. Something that actually worth my time."
Muffled chuckles across the press gallery.
> "Sukhman," a reporter asked, "your podium finish in Barcelona caught attention. Do you consider this weekend a redemption arc after Monza?"
He glanced at Charlotte before answering.
> "It's not about redemption. It's about consistency. I know what I'm capable of now."
Behind the curtain, the cameras missed a subtle figure leaving the venue — a man in a black coat, entering a nearby van fitted with satellite relays.
---
Inside a Van — Unknown Location, Zandvoort
A screen blinked to life.
The man from the Tokyo hotel — the one Raghav had turned down — now leaned over a digital table. Multiple driver profiles hovered holographically. One glowed red: Charlotte Reid.
> "Phase Three is stabilizing," he said into the intercom.
"Now comes the disruptive element."
He tapped a control. A set of encrypted files opened, labeled Sensor Drift Injection – Test Variant A.
> "Initiate shadow ping on all telemetry passing through our node. Let's see who breaks first."
---
Friday Morning – FP1 Begins
The growl of engines broke across Zandvoort's sweeping dunes.
Callum topped the early charts — fast, methodical, surgical. Holtz close behind. Montoya pulling risky moves even in practice.
But Sukhman?
He struggled. Oversteer on sector two. A near-gravel moment in the banked turn.
> "Too stiff on rear dampers," he radioed in. "Feels loose mid-corner."
The junior engineer, Gino, replied:
> "We'll tweak for FP2. Get data. Don't push it yet."
Back in the Vaayu garage, Maya scowled.
> "We need him in Q3. At least."
---
Friday Afternoon – FP2
Sukhman pushed harder. His timing improved. The new configuration responded better. He posted P6 — ahead of Martins and Amelia.
Meanwhile, Charlotte's car showed strange behavior. Slight hesitations in throttle response. Not enough to notice outright. But she did.
> "Something's off in sector one. Latency in gear shifts."
> "No errors on our end," her engineer replied. "Might be a ghost signal. We'll review it. No need to worry."
As she stepped out of the car, Charlotte caught a glimpse of a new face among the IRC observers. Clean suit. No badge. Watching intently.
She didn't show concern. But her jaw tightened.