My Formula 1 System

The 12th and final round was considered to have officially begun as soon as the influx of tourists and visitors into Italy grew significantly. People from far and wide, from every nation, arrived—so long as they loved the sport, they made an effort to set foot on the very soil where champions would be crowned. Continue reading on My Virtual Library Empire

As spectators, pundits, and fans poured in, so did the teams. All twenty-five teams from the top two divisions—ten from Formula 1 and fifteen from Formula 2—had officially checked in for the Italian Mega Prix.

While some teams were based in Milan, others stayed in Monza, Rome, or other high-end locations, ensuring they had the best accommodations to prepare for the final race.

Those still in the title fight demanded five-star luxury to maintain focus, while even the teams out of contention expected nothing less. After all, this was the last race of the season, the final chapter of a year-long journey across the globe. Everyone deserved to experience it in absolute comfort and style.

Luca was thrilled to see Trampos' massive trucks rolling in, resembling a military unit returning to its garrison. The transportation team and half of the engineering department had finally arrived.

At least, now we must be enough to get some pastries in the shelves, Luca thought.

AV Motorsport also arrived that day as well, filling up the other part of the facility.

That same man in the black racing suit showed up later that day to reclaim his company's asset.

The crew had already peeled off Luca's #21 fiery bumper stickers from the sides of the Dallara and his helmet, restoring the car to its original, bland, unbranded state.

The man admired the single-seater, speaking to it as if it could respond. Luca personally thanked him, acknowledging that the car was like any other F2 04—balanced, sustainable, and efficient—all the qualities expected of a Formula 2 standard chassis.

The fellow took his leave after greeting the rest of the crew which he claimed to be a fan of, and taking a look at Trampos' own car parts that were dismantled. He drove away in his black Dallara which seemed very odd to Luca.

Luca then remembered how the streets and roads were filled with promotional material for the 12th round. It was most likely no one would even stop him—as long as he never sped up. They might even celebrate him as a million dollar machine like that, driven in the streets to wherever he was taking it must be a spectacle.

Two days later, Trampos' coach buses finally arrived, carrying the main team. It was already dark, but that didn't dampen the moment. The five buses rolled to a stop on the cold, fogged tarmac beside the main building, their headlights flicking off one by one.

Luca, along with the rest of the crew, headed down to greet them, ready to help with their luggage.

This was full attendance—every Trampos personnel, from the newly hired rookies to the heads of all departments, had come to Italy for the final race of the season.

No one was left behind. On November 28th, every single one of them would be present at Autodromo di Lombardia, not just to do their jobs but to roar in support of Luca and Haas' victory.

Speaking of Haas, Luca was very, very delighted to see him. Luca felt a strange wave of strength and confidence surge through him upon seeing Haas disembark from the bus.

Erik Haas might not be one of the spectacles on the grid, but Luca still liked his confidence, and he tapped from it every second he had the chance.

Luca had this feeling that if Haas were outstandingly good, he might have turned into one of those rivals he didn't fancy.

So, it seemed the levelness of his driving quality was like a nerf to his firm, stoic character.

After welcoming Haas, Luca moved on to Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton. They asked him how he had been handling himself for the past weeks and if the tests had gone according to plan.

Luca responded that he was fine, explaining he'd been driving well and was looking forward to more drills in the days left before the race on Saturday.

Next, he explained to them why he hadn't gone to the subquarters again and that he'd need some security before making it through into the building again to keep up their misleading plan.

As for Clinica San Cataldo, they had called earlier today, saying the results would be ready tomorrow.

Everyone was delighted with this progress, heading into the building that had its lights glowing through the windows into the night like the bulbs of fireflies.

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[SYSTEM ONLINE...]

Today was Monday, officially making it five days until Saturday, the day of the Formula 2 Italian Mega Prix. Luca's enemies might think he would be out of competition, but clutching it late was what Luca was known for.

Ms. Vallotton advised that he wake up early, head to San Cataldo as soon as possible, and return with the test results laminated as well.

Luca also added, saying that for good measure, he had to make it to the sub-quarters first and resume the test as though nothing had happened before driving off to San Cataldo. Everyone agreed, though they really wanted this all wrapped up.

By 7 a.m., Luca was fully dressed and ready to go after a quick gym session, a refreshing bath, and breakfast. Mr. Ammermann and the same two crew members were also prepped and waiting.

Two SUVs sat parked at the side, with Trampos' REAL security team already patrolling around them, waiting.

The security department was simply divided into two branches: Internal Security and External Security.

For Internal Security, it was a group of bodyguards and team-appointed personnel responsible for protecting the drivers, key staff, and facilities. They ensured no unauthorized access to the team's spaces and maintained order within the camp.

For External Security, they were trained professionals working closely with event organizers and local authorities to manage threats outside Trampos' direct perimeter. Their job was to handle potential disruptions, from overenthusiastic fans to rival team interference, ensuring safe travel and public appearances.

Now, it all depended on how it was handled. That was further divided into two kinds: defensive and tactical.

Defensive Security, which could be anyone under both Internal and External, operated with a non-aggressive approach, relying on strict surveillance, strategic positioning, and physical presence to deter threats.

However, Tactical Security was a more heavily equipped unit responsible for high-risk scenarios, and their presence alone was a deterrent against any serious security breaches.

Luca was driving with Tactical External Security today, their rifles in their grip saying it all.

They all got into the SUVs and drove to the place, arriving 20 minutes later.

Luca didn't wear his nose mask this time around. If the whole of Italy would be bummed to see him out in public, then they'd cry their eyes out when he won the F2 world championship in front of all of them.

The second-to-last phase of Luca's test with the Federation sub-quarters was conducted smoothly and unsurprisingly steady.

Luca greeted the doctors and nurses before leaving the room and heading down the elevator with Mr. Ammermann toward the counter to sign out his presence from the facility.

Zo, a dark-skinned, 47-year-old man with a buzz cut and a quiet but commanding presence, entered the building just as they reached the counter.

As the head of the External Security department, he was the only one carrying a concealed pistol. Without a word, he took his place at Luca's left while Luca accepted the pen from the nurse.

Luca's attention was drawn to a figure striding toward them with clear intent. He glanced down the hallway and saw a man in a dress shirt and deep turquoise pants approaching.

"Luca," the man called out before even reaching them.

Luca had never seen him before, but from the smug expression on his face, he could already tell they wouldn't see eye to eye.

"Kellerman," the man introduced himself, his gaze flicking toward the document Luca was signing.

Zo, ever observant, made a subtle movement to establish that Luca was under protection.

"What tests did you take today?" Kellerman asked.

"Cardiovascular," Luca replied.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Kellerman clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Not the last, is it?"

"Nope. One test left."

"And there are only five days until Saturday, Luca. Five days," Kellerman said with a knowing smile, stepping closer into Luca's personal space. "You sure you can make it?"

Zo didn't hesitate. He placed a firm yet controlled hand on Kellerman's chest and pushed him back, making it clear there were boundaries. Years of experience had taught Zo that men dressed like Kellerman were always trouble.

Kellerman dusted off his chest dramatically, as if Zo had somehow sullied it. With a shrug, he adjusted his cuffs and smirked.

"The view of a race like the Mega Prix is always better from the suites. Join me there on Saturday instead of sweating it out in your stuffy paddock," he said, throwing a glance at Zo before turning on his heel and walking away.

Luca watched him exit the building, saying nothing as he resumed signing. Once finished, he followed Mr. Ammermann and Zo outside.

There, they spotted Kellerman slipping into a sleek, black commercial Ferrari—elegant, expensive, and built to draw attention.

"He's clueless, isn't he?" Mr. Ammermann muttered as they stepped into their SUV.

"Very," Luca exhaled, watching the Ferrari disappear down the road as their own vehicles turned toward the direction of San Cataldo.

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The drive seemed long to Luca. Maybe it was because he was anxious.

Luca's anxiety eased when they arrived and the staff had all smiles to him. Even the head doctor in charge of him and his tests, showed no facial expression that could tell Luca was in trouble.

With no further delay, he informed Luca that he tested negative for exogenous erythropoietin (EPO) administration and anabolic androgenic steroid (AAS) use, the primary substances under scrutiny in the doping investigation.

In normal terms, Luca was tested negative for artificially boosting his red blood cell count and using performance-enhancing steroids.

The doctor handed him his file.

Luca's eyes skimmed over the details, his heartbeat steadying as he read the word NEGATIVE stamped in bold.

"We truly appreciate your help, doctor," Mr. Ammermann said, sensing the relief radiating from Luca. "You'll inform the FIA as soon as possible, right?"

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "As an FIA-approved facility, we'll submit the test results and proof immediately. Once they verify the findings, all charges against him will be dropped."

"Thank you," Mr. Ammermann said sincerely.

"Thank you," Luca echoed, his heart pounding with joy as they stepped out of the hospital. A wide grin spread across his face. "This calls for a celebration, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Mr. Ammermann replied. "The whole team will be thrilled. And your foes? Completely defeated."

Luca's mind drifted to Kellerman. "Do you know that man? Do you think he played a part in all these delays?"

Mr. Ammermann shrugged, unwilling to confirm what he wasn't sure of. "Whoever he is, he won't be happy about this news. And come Saturday, he'll keep a seat for you, he'll be waiting for you to join him in the suites—only to be disappointed."

The thought made them both burst into laughter.