I've already won five championships. One more isn't a big deal. This is mine. Stay calm. Stay focused. I can do this.
Ash gripped the steering wheel tighter, inhaling slowly, then exhaling, letting the rhythm steady his racing pulse. Let's do it. Shall we.
A voice crackled in his headset.
"Everything okay over there?"
"Yes, it's fine."
"Ash, it's your victory. Focus on the race. Nothing else matters."
He nodded, though they couldn't see him. Every fiber of his body tuned to the hum of the engine beneath him—the vibration through the seat, the faint resistance in the pedals, the sharp smell of burning rubber and hot metal.
The stadium erupted. Tens of thousands of voices crashed together, chanting his name from all directions. Ash! Ash! Ash! The sound pressed in from all sides, shaking the air itself.
From the speakers above the track, commentary cut through the noise.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the World Championship! Engines primed, tension at its peak—this is racing at its absolute limit!"
The red lights flashed, reflecting off the polished visor of Ash's helmet. The cockpit shifted with each pulse—dashboard glowing crimson, gauges flickering as final diagnostics ran.
From the stands, the crowd began to count.
"One—"
"Two—"
"Three—"
The chant rolled like thunder.
Ash didn't look. He didn't listen. He felt everything instead—the engine's growl, the throttle's response, the exact point where power met traction. Gear indicators glowed. Clutch steady. Accelerator poised.
The lights shifted. Yellow. Shadows stretched across the cockpit. Sparks hissed along the track edges.
Launch control ready. Gear in first. Perfect.
Green.
The world exploded into motion. Engines screamed, tires shrieked, and Ash slammed the accelerator. The car surged forward, smooth and violent all at once, as the noise of the crowd vanished behind him.
There was only the machine. Only the track. Only speed.
The first corner came fast.
Ash braked late—too late for anyone else. The rear stepped out, tires shrieking, sparks snapping as he clipped the inside line and straightened clean.
"And Ash sends it—late braking, late braking! Oh, he holds it!"
Second gear. Third.
A sharp left, then immediately right. Concrete walls blurred past his visor. Inches. Millimeters. He didn't flinch.
"That's absolute precision," the commentator shouted. "You don't do that unless you trust the car completely."
The chicane loomed. Scrap metal lined the edges, scars burned into the asphalt from past wrecks. Ash cut straight through, suspension screaming, chassis shuddering once—then settling.
"Clean! No lift through the chicane. Incredible!"
One lap in and he's setting the tone. If this keeps up, everyone else is racing for second.
The engine sang—smooth. Strong. Alive. Heat shimmered behind him, debris still settling on the straight. Red lights burned faintly through the haze as the field stretched out.
A voice cut in through the headset.
"Front is clear. You're leading."
Ash's grip stayed loose on the wheel.
"Don't panic. Keep it steady," the engineer said. "Tires are in the window. Brake balance looks good."
The road rushed toward him again, fast and narrow, barriers closing in as the next sequence approached.
"Drive your line. No need to force it."
"Copy," Ash replied.
His breathing slowed. In. Out. He tipped the car in smoothly, letting it settle before feeding the throttle back in. The crowd noise swelled somewhere beyond the barriers, then faded, swallowed by the engine's roar.
"Gap behind is growing. You're doing exactly what you need to do."
Ash didn't look at the mirrors. He was already lining up the next cut. The car stayed perfect. For now.
The straight opened, and Ash could see the pit up ahead—lap ten, scheduled stop. The tires were starting to feel colder than ideal. He could sense the difference, tiny vibrations through the pedals.
"Gap steady. Keep your line," the engineer said.
Ash nodded subtly. No need to speak.
He eased the car toward the pit lane, obeying the limiter. Engines and tires shrieked in contrast to the slowed pace.
"He's coming in now," the commentator said.
"This is a planned stop—fuel and tires. Watch the timing; this is critical."
Ash rolled to his mark and stopped.
The car lifted. Crew moved instantly. Old tires came off, new ones snapped on. Fuel hose locked, refilled, snapped free.
A sharp tap on the hood.
"Go!"
Ash released the brake. Launch control engaged. The car shot forward, engine roaring, tires gripping, and he rejoined the track.
"Stop time—just under three seconds. Incredible efficiency!" the commentator shouted.
Back on track, the first corners after the pit revealed a subtle problem. A twitch in the rear tires. Barely noticeable. Ash felt it immediately. Not dangerous yet, but enough for a seasoned driver to notice.
Not a problem yet… but it's coming…
He pushed harder. Slight dip in the rear, small wobble. Adjusted mid-apex.
"Everything okay?" the engineer asked.
"Yeah," Ash replied, calm.
Another corner. Another exit. The vibration returned. Ash didn't flinch—he sensed it, every fiber of his body in sync with the machine.
Then—snap.
The rear tire shredded completely.
Ash's car jerked violently, swinging right, then left. The wheel fought him, but control was gone.
No… no, not now… stay… stay…
"Brake! He's losing it! He's losing it!"
The car slammed into the barricade, metal screaming. Sparks, debris, and flames burst through the hood.
The vehicle rolled once… twice… flames licking the track. Concrete and debris sprayed into the air. Tires bounced, metal screeched, and cameras on the back of the straight caught the chaos in slow-motion.
"Unbelievable! He's rolling! Two full rotations! Flames! Sparks! Medics, get in there!" the commentator shouted, voice breaking with panic.
Everything's on fire… I can smell it… feel it… burning… hot… my leg… it's trapped… I can move it a little… blood… wet… sticky… my hands… my arms… it's all… blood…
Don't… don't close your eyes… stay alive… stay with me… not yet… I can't die here… not like this…
Through smoke and flames, Ash saw medics reaching through debris, dragging him from the twisted metal.
I can see them… I can see… but I can't feel… can't…
"Can you hear me? Ash! Can you hear us?"
I… I can see it… but can't feel… my leg… my chest… fire…
Sirens wailed. Staff waved white flags, stopping the other racers. Engines died, brakes squealed. Silence fell over the track.
Stay… just… stay…
"Hey! Don't leave us! Open your eyes!" the medic yelled.
And then… darkness swallowed him.
_________