Chapter 509: S3 British Grand Prix. 7
Thud-thum! Thud-thum! THUD-THUM!
It sounded like a thousand hearts beating in sync, his padded helmet emphasizing the bass.
Boom-bada-BOOM! Boom-bada-BOOM!
[1ST POSITION]
Luca dismissed the system prompt as he struggled to leave the cockpit, adrenaline saturating him to the extent he believed he might explode if he did not let out a primitive roar.
The vibrations in Stadhaven reverberated through his chest, moved to the rest of his body, and fidgeted his fingers, making it difficult to even remove his helmet.
**You did it! You fucking did it! That’s P1, Luca! THAT’S P1! WHAT A FUCKING DRIVE!**
The crowd swelled once Luca emerged from the Ferrari.
DUH–DUH—DAHH! DUH–DUH–DAHH!
He ripped off the helmet with an exhale of relief. The cheers bled into his ears like a thunderstorm, and he could barely even hear his own breath.
"...LUCA RENNICK—HAS DONE IT!! OUT OF NOWHERE, IN THE FINAL SECTOR—HE’S SNATCHED VICTORY FROM SQUADRA CORSE IN THE MOST UNBELIEVABLE FASHION! HE’S WON THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX...!"
"....OH MY WORD—ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! WHAT DID WE JUST WITNESS?! LUCA RENNICK PULLED A MIRACLE THROUGH SECTOR FOUR! IT WAS LUIGI’S WIN! IT DEFINITELY WAS! BUT RENNICK DETONATED PAST HIM! THAT’S A MASTERCLASS IN TIMING, STRATEGY, AND BLOODY INSANIT...!"