Jaxon settled into the seat, letting the harness straps fall across his shoulders. Ian crouched beside the car, checking the final tension on the belts, then gave a slight nod. Kurt hovered over the tablet, running one last telemetry scan, while Michelle adjusted the seat sliders, ensuring his hips sat perfectly aligned with the pedals.
He flexed his fingers inside the gloves, testing grip on the wheel. Nothing fancy, no rituals—just checking that the controls responded exactly as expected. The pedals clicked under his shoes as he pressed lightly, feeling the firmness and return.
"Radio check," Ian said. Jaxon tapped the earpiece, confirming sound in both ears. A short tone and Ian's voice returned crisp and clear. "Volume good. Mic?"
"Clear," Jaxon replied quietly, nodding once.
Michelle leaned in. "Seat pressure good? Harness snug?"
Jaxon slid slightly forward and back, then settled. "Everything's fine."
Kurt's finger traced the digital display on the tablet. "Fuel, pressures, tire temps — all green. Engine mapped. You're ready whenever."
Jaxon exhaled softly, eyes scanning the dash and steering wheel controls. Each button, each dial, was exactly where he expected. No unnecessary movements, no external display of nerves. Just methodical confirmation.
Ian stepped back. "Harness locked. Wheel tight. Headrest and HANS checked. Any tweaks?"
"None," Jaxon said, thumb flicking one small toggle on the steering wheel to double-check traction mapping
The first drops fell almost silently, tiny beads tapping the asphalt. Ian's head snapped up, eyes narrowing at the gray sky creeping in.
"Shit," Kurt muttered under his breath, fingers tightening on the tablet. Michelle's calm exterior flickered for a fraction of a second as she adjusted a setting on the steering wheel display.
Jaxon felt it through the car before anyone even said anything—a soft mist coating the mirrors, a slick sheen on the tarmac that hadn't been there a moment ago. He didn't react outwardly, didn't shift his expression. His mind cataloged it: grip reduced, braking distances longer, lines altered.
The drizzle thickened, then hit harder, the rhythm of rain against the bodywork suddenly urgent. Ian barked instructions, voice tense, and Kurt and Michelle scrambled to recheck tire pressures, wipers, and brake temperatures.
"You saw the radar?" Michelle asked, sharp.
"No warning," Ian said, jaw tight. "This just came from nowhere. We've got maybe ten minutes before it really pours."
Jaxon's hands gripped the wheel, subtle, controlled, already recalculating every braking point in his head. The track had been dry. Now, everything he'd memorized was slippery. He let out a quiet exhale, measured, and listened to the crew coordinate around him. Everyone was on edge—he could feel it in the taut tension of the team, the way they moved, how fast their words were clipped.
The Bearmans had made their way back to Turn 5, settling on the wooden patio overlooking the corner. Thomas and Ollie leaned on the railing, phones out.
"Wait," Thomas said, squinting at the darkening sky. "Was rain even on the forecast?"
Ollie shook his head, brows knitting. "Not a drop. I double-checked. What the hell?" He pulled his jacket tighter as the drizzle began to dot his sleeves.
Adam frowned, tilting his head toward the track. "That's… sudden. Jaxon qualified first, then had to start last with that engine crack. His McLaren evaluation is riding on this. And now this?" He let out a low whistle, eyes sharp. "Every move counts."
Terri adjusted the umbrella she had tucked in her lap, voice calm but puzzled. "Looks like it just… came out of nowhere. Hope it's nothing heavy."
Thomas tapped his phone repeatedly, checking the weather app again. "Nada. Clear skies predicted. This is weird."
Ollie grinned despite the drizzle, a mix of excitement and disbelief in his tone. "Well, I guess the track's getting a surprise. Wonder how Jaxon's handling it down there."
Adam nodded, eyes following the cars as they fought for traction through the first wet patches. "He's going to have to adapt fast. This is sudden, but he's good. Let's just hope the rain doesn't last too long."
Thomas leaned on the railing, squinting as the rain came down. "Think he can do this? I mean… rain, starting last, everyone watching?" His voice carried a hint of genuine worry.
Ollie smirked, arms crossed, glancing at the first few cars sliding slightly on the damp asphalt. "If you bet against him," he said, shrugging, "he'll prove you wrong. Always does. Doesn't matter if it's a track he knows like the back of his hand or a sudden storm—he adapts."
Adam chuckled, nodding. "Exactly. Don't underestimate him. Anything could happen, but if there's one person who can handle this, it's him."
Terri's calm voice followed, quiet but firm. "He's steady. He's prepared. Just… let him focus."
Thomas let a small smile spread across his face, tension easing slightly. "Yeah," he said, shaking his head with quiet admiration. "Guess I should stop doubting him already."
The drizzle continued to fall, softening into a heavier sprinkle, but the mood on the patio had shifted. Nervous anticipation mixed with trust—whatever happened out there, Jaxon had the skill and composure to face it.
Inside the McLaren pit garage, the first few droplets splashing across the windscreen were met with tense silence. Kurt and Michelle were hunched over the monitors, data streaming past, fingers tapping frantically.
Ian's jaw tightened. "Son of a—where the hell did this come from?" he muttered, voice low but laced with frustration.
Michelle glanced up at him, calm but alert. "It's unexpected. No forecast, nothing. We need to check tire strategy—slicks aren't going to cut it soon."
Kurt swore under his breath, scanning telemetry. "Grip's dropping faster than expected. If he's still on the dry setup, he's going to have a hell of a time."
Ian slammed his hand on the table, taking a deep breath before muttering another curse. "We're being watched—McLaren's eyes are on us. Every decision counts. Get him through the first lap without sliding off, and maybe we can catch him a few spots before the rain hits full."
Michelle nodded, pulling up a wet-weather simulation. "We can adjust brake bias, traction control, and downforce mid-race. But he's starting from the back. One slip, it's over."
Ian muttered again, this time almost under his teeth, pacing. "Of course it rains when we're supposed to showcase his speed. Perfect. Just… perfect."
Kurt adjusted a setting on the tablet, swearing softly again. "If he's calm out there, he can handle it. But we've got to be on point, or this is going to get messy fast."
The pit garage was tense, a mix of focus, stress, and barely contained frustration. For Jaxon, this would be just another variable to manage—but for the crew, it was a sudden storm on every level: the track, the grid, and McLaren's watchful gaze.
Jaxon's hands rested lightly on the wheel, eyes scanning the track through the wet visor. His calm, measured voice cut through the tension of the pit radio.
"Why are you all freaking out?" he asked, voice even, almost teasing.
Ian's jaw tightened, exhaling sharply. "You don't get it. You qualified first, and now you've got a cracked engine putting you at the back of the grid. And now—" he gestured toward the raindrops streaking the windshield, "—this. Unexpected rain. We have to get you through clean, fast, and flawless. McLaren's watching everything. Every shift, every lap, every decision."
Michelle's voice joined, clipped and precise. "We need perfect communication. Brake bias, traction, tire management—he's going to need guidance on all of it while the other drivers are pushing hard."
Kurt muttered under his breath, swiping through telemetry again. "It's a lot riding on this. One mistake…"
Jaxon tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's a two-hour timed race," he said evenly, almost matter-of-fact. "I've got time. No need to panic yet. Focus on what matters when it matters."
Ian blinked, caught off guard by the calm. "You… you really don't feel that?"
Jaxon shook his head gently. "Not yet. It's rain. It's a back-of-the-grid start. It's all just variables. We deal with them as they come."
Michelle let out a slow breath, slightly relieved. Kurt's shoulders relaxed fractionally, though he still kept eyes on the screens.
Ian muttered another curse under his breath, this time mixed with a reluctant chuckle. "Of course you're calm. You're insane."
Jaxon's jaw tightened, a rare flash of irritation breaking through his usual calm. "Are you kidding me? Counting me out before the lights even go green?" His voice was low, sharp, and cut through the small tension-filled garage. "Last place, rain out of nowhere, McLaren watching… that's a list of excuses, not a problem. I don't need you panicking for me."
Ian froze for a second, eyebrows raised. Kurt's fingers tightened on the tablet, Michelle exhaled sharply.
"Come on," Jaxon continued, voice steady but biting. "I'm not some fragile test dummy. It's a two-hour race. We're not done before it starts. Stop treating me like I can't handle it."
There was silence for a moment, the rain tapping steadily against the roof, the crew's stress hanging in the air. Ian rubbed his face, muttering under his breath, "Damn kid…"
Kurt let out a soft laugh, the tension loosening, while Michelle shook her head with a small, exasperated smile.
Jaxon leaned back slightly, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers, letting the message settle. "Focus on the car, the track, the conditions. That's what matters. The rest is noise."
The Bearmans huddled under umbrellas, the drizzle now a steady patter across the wood patio at Turn 5. The screen flickered to life, showing the cars weaving into formation on the main straight. Reflections shimmered on the wet asphalt, but their eyes were locked on one car — the Artura GT4.
Terri adjusted the umbrella, tilting her head toward the track. "Look at that paint," she said softly. "Even in the drizzle, it's… it's really something."
Adam leaned on the railing, eyes tracing the lines of the car as it crawled into formation. "Yeah. That stripe… the way it catches the light in the wet… I've never seen anything like it."
Thomas snorted, umbrella bobbing with his gesture. "It's like you could spot that car from halfway down the straight. No mistaking it."
Ollie grinned under his hood. "Every corner, every reflection… it's basically screaming 'look at me.' Classic Jaxon."
Terri smiled faintly. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Detailed, but not overdone."
Adam nodded. "And it tells a story too. The town, the track… everything about it."
Thomas gave a small, impressed whistle. "Even in rain, it doesn't lose anything. Somehow makes it feel faster just watching."
Ollie leaned closer to the railing, umbrella pressed against his shoulder. "Yeah, it's ridiculous. That car looks like it belongs on a museum wall."
Jaxon sat low in the Artura GT4, hands resting lightly on the wheel, visor catching the dull gleam of the gray drizzle. The seat fit perfectly, harness snug. Around him, Kurt and Michelle ran through final checks, toggling tire pressures and telemetry.
"Ian here," crackled through the radio. "Track's slicking up quicker than forecast. Two-hour stint, thirty cars, you know the drill. Smooth inputs, adjust braking for grip, conserve tires. Pressure's high—McLaren's eyes are on this one."
Jaxon's grip on the wheel tightened imperceptibly. He just nodded to himself, eyes narrowing on the rain-darkened asphalt ahead.
"Starting from last, remember? Keep your head. Don't overcommit on the first few corners. We'll guide you. You see how the others are handling it, adapt. Two hours—think ahead, don't rush."
A low groan of frustration came from Ian. "This is… not what we planned."
Jaxon didn't respond.
The drizzle had turned the asphalt slick, glinting under the overcast sky, and the cars began filing into formation. From Turn 5, the Bearmans huddled under umbrellas, eyes scanning the line-up.
Thomas nudged Ollie, voice low but excited. "There — right there. That's his car. You can't miss it."
Ollie's jaw tightened slightly, a mix of awe and grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Man… that livery. Even in the rain, it's like it glows. That stripe… the map? Gorgeous."
Adam leaned forward on the railing, voice tinged with pride. "He's got a lot riding on this. Engine swap, last on the grid, McLaren watching… and now wet track. If he pulls this off, it'll be something else."
Terri's eyes stayed fixed on the car. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Every time I look at it, I notice something new. Even in the drizzle — it pops."
A ripple of chatter ran through the stands. "Check out that helmet! And the paint — wow."
"Is that… that kid from Elkhart? Jaxon Rose?"
"14, right? And he's in a GT4 car? Madness."
"Look at that stripe — the map on the car! That's insane detail."
Thomas smiled, turning back to Ollie. "See? Even the crowd knows. They can spot him before anyone else."
Ollie laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah… impossible to hide. Everyone knows where to look."
The Artura GT4 rolled past, the blue‑white stripe catching the faint light, raindrops tracing tiny rivers over the contours. Even as the other 29 cars lined up around him, all eyes seemed drawn to that one unmistakable silhouette, an almost living monument to Elkhart Lake itself.