Location: Le Castellet, France
Track: Circuit du Soleil (Solaris)
Another European circuit nestled in the hilly regions near the Mediterranean Sea? The French Grand Prix was set to host the 11th round of the Formula 1 and Formula 2 Championship season.
Circuit du Soleil had a very bad reputation for horrific crashes over the years, even claiming the life of a driver in the previous generation of Formula 1. The track was treacherous, with steep turns skirting the edges of hills and one of the longest straights in motorsport, making high-speed collisions a constant threat.
Despite its dangers, Le Castellet remained a staple in the racing calendar, its historic circuit continuing to attract the world's top drivers. It had hosted the Mega Prix six seasons ago and had repeatedly survived attempts to shut it down. Rumors swirled that Circuit du Soleil might once again host the Mega Prix next season, especially with the Federation selecting it for this year's 11th round—where the championship battle in both Formula 1 and Formula 2 was more intense than ever, with no clear winners in sight.
The standings were packed, and the defining winners and winner might have to wait until after the 12th round, the season's Mega Prix.
PROVISIONAL TEAMS' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.
Position | Team | Points
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1. | Trampos Racing | 248
2. | Bueseno Velocità Jnr. | 233
3. | Squadra Corse Jnr | 211
4. | Hatcherk Motorsport | 152
5. | Retona Racing | 82
After the Qatari Grand Prix and the announcement of Hatcherk Motorsport being unable to win the trophy, a wave of happiness had coursed through the top three teams: Trampos, Velocità Jnr and Squadra Jnr. Now, they could focus on themselves, knowingly they'd denied a pressing team like Hatcherk the trophy.
From Luca's understanding, he could anticipate the energy Velocità and Squadra would bring to France. Squadra would arrive with aggression, knowing they had nothing to lose but everything to gain in their climb to the top. Meanwhile, Velocità would approach with caution yet unwavering determination, fully aware that Squadra was right beneath them. Their drivers would have to execute clean lines, not just to defend but also to surpass Trampos.
Little did Luca know that what truly occupied everyone's mind in both Velocità Jnr and Squadra Jnr was HIS return. Their Team Principals, Strategists, Engineers, Mechanics, and general crew were all focused on one thing and it was Luca Rennick's clearance to resume competition.
During his brief absence, they had amassed a significant number of points, strengthening their climb and improving their shot at the championship. And now, the very driver who had put Trampos at the top of the standings from the beginning of the season until now was back in action.
It was pre-preparatory week, a week and a half before the 11th round—the French Grand Prix. Luca had officially been cleared for competition after undergoing extensive medical evaluations.
A big smile spread across his face as he arrived at the headquarters on that fateful Thursday morning. He was early, a habit ingrained in him since his days living in the quarters. Even before the sun had fully risen, the air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp asphalt from the overnight drizzle, and the chirping of birds that would soon flutter away once the rev of a SomberCore tore through the stillness.
Today, he was back in his element.
Mr. Moritz in particular was very glad to have Luca back, and he ordered McCauley to let go so he could grace Luca himself and make sure he was alright and ready. He gripped Luca by the shoulders, scanning him with sharp, assessing eyes, almost as if expecting to find some hidden weakness beneath the driver's easy smile. But Luca stood firm, unbothered, his posture exuding the same confidence he had before the crash.
The moment passed quickly, and Mr. Moritz nodded in satisfaction, stepping back as the crew continued their celebration. Mechanics clapped him on the back, engineers muttered about his uncanny durability, and even some of the more stoic staff cracked rare smiles.
Luca spotted Haas and Victor in the crowd, their faces lighting up the moment they saw him. Without hesitation, they made their way over, gripping his shoulders in firm, brotherly shakes before pulling him into an embrace. There was no pretense, no forced words. Haas and Victor were actually in genuine relief and happiness at seeing him back where he belonged.
Before long, the entire Trampos crew, from the engineers to the pit wall strategists, had joined in, the energy in the reception room swelling into something uncontrollable. Laughter mixed with shouts, and then, as if by instinct, someone started a chant.
Everyone joined the chant, even Luca who had known idea what it meant. They slung their arms over each other's shoulders, moved as one, jumping in unison, the rhythm pounding through the floors.
It was a war cry disguised as a celebration. A driver returns, a team regains its strength, and the fire of competition burns brighter.
Amidst the celebrations, Luca searched for Ansel but couldn't spot him anywhere. After a thorough glance around, he came to a conclusion that Ansel wasn't present. It seemed he had taken his race suspension so seriously that he hadn't even bothered to show up.
Perhaps he hadn't been showing up for weeks now.
A sharp, hoarse voice sliced through the chant like a whip, snapping the entire room to attention. The jumping halted instantly, shoulders unlocked, and the once-roaring celebration faded into scattered chuckles and shifting feet.
Who the heck is that? Luca thought, panting slightly as he turned toward the source of the voice.
Standing in the second doorway of the reception room was a middle-aged man, likely approaching his fifties. He was of average height, with receding blonde hair and a mustache that gave him an odd mix of wisdom and humor.
This was Mr. Ruben, the Top Chief Head Engineer—the very man Mr. Moritz answered to. He wasn't just another figure in the garage; he sat on the board, representing the Engineering Department. Luca had never spoken to him, never even seen him before—not in the video meeting, not in passing. Yet here he was, his presence alone enough to shift the room's atmosphere.
The last Luca had heard, motorsport was undergoing an Engine Reviewal Programme, a large-scale initiative stretching across multiple seasons. It was common for top engineers to temporarily step away from their teams, traveling worldwide to attend seminars, exchange knowledge, and evaluate upcoming regulations. Perhaps, it was one of these related seminars Isabella had attended because she mentioned something about engines.
Maybe the programme had finally concluded, and Mr. Ruben had returned to his post. Or maybe he had simply decided to return, regardless of whether it was over. Either way, his arrival marked a change.
"Enough of the circus, men," he grumbled, stepping forward, his boots clicking against the polished floor. "You're back, Rennick. Good. Now act like it. Follow me."
Luca did his best to hide his smirk as he followed the man out of the reception room. He could hear everyone chuckling when they left and he wished he could have celebrated longer.
Where were they even going?
Oh. I guess I'd have to get a briefing with the board upon my return. Sounds good, I guess, Luca thought, greeting more crew members as they walked.
It felt really good to be back.