Chapter 505: S3 British Grand Prix. 3
Towards the 20th Lap, the British Grand Prix had found a very good rhythm. But in plain description: it was a savage race, and so, Stadhaven was anything but calm right from lights out.
The spring air was warm, mild, and delectable. It naturally transported the scent of fuel, rubber, and smoke from one end of the circuit to another in equal concentration than the winter air ever had. The slothful clouds above proved a major factor in maintaining the perfect 21°C, regularly providing shade over different portions of the track. The drivers didn’t even notice because of how fast they moved, but the spectators enjoyed nature’s exhibit.
Fortunately for the nation of England and its government, what happened last year in the British Grand Prix didn’t happen this time. The monarchs weren’t chased from their suite, their chins held high as hundreds of Union Jacks fluttered from every post, tower, and grandstand.
Many Italians opposed by planting the il Tricolore or waving massive ones above their heads. But no matter how much they tried, it didn’t rival British supremacy. This was their turf, the 4th round, and the way Jackson Racing fans hooted and chanted as a collective populace, it was clear the nationalistic days of Formula 1 were back.
Worldwide, the race was broadcast to every corner of the globe, carried by over 80 international networks with commentary in more than 20 languages. Millions of homes got to witness the chaos and glory, some parts of the world already at night, and others just waking up to tune in.
Back to the race action: the last major flashpoint of the race so far was Denko Rutherford’s crash. What an ugly outcome for the home team, Haddock Racing, and one that confirmed Elias Nyström’s cunning plan had worked to perfection.
The records of the British GP would state that he—Denko Rutherford—was a punk filled with implacable energy, strangling a veteran’s neck until he found himself outsmarted and overextended. The scrape of carbon fibre that followed and his collision with the barriers was the price Denko Rutherford eventually paid.
The crowd erupted with mixed reactions, while the commentators lost their voices narrating the chaos.
"...AND THAT’S A DNF FOR DENKO RUTHERFORD! HADDOCK RACING IS DOWN TO ONE MAN IN THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX...!"
"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"
"...FROM THE LOOKS OF IT, RUTHERFORD TRIED HIS LUCK OUT OF THE CHICANE FOR THE STRAIGHT! NYSTRÖM MADE HIM WORK FOR EVERY INCH—AND THAT DEFENSIVE MASTERCLASS MAY HAVE PUSHED DENKO INTO MAKING THAT COSTLY ERROR....!"
Mr. Bujas’ administration were left aggravated behind Haddock Racing’s pit wall. The team didn’t even know where exactly to direct their frustration because orders had been heavily sent to Denko before the crash. They were the ones pumping Denko up into reckless aggression, and the crash was the bitter end to what had looked like a promising climb.