Under the Banner of Red, Black, and White

The flight back to Germany was long and exhausting. They boarded a certain Airbus A270 for the 14-hour journey to Dubai, where they had a brief two-hour layover. The stop provided a chance to stretch their legs and grab snacks. Luca and Ansel wandered through the airport shops, absorbing the city's vibrant nighttime ambiance. The comfort and allure of Dubai made Luca ponder if it might be the ideal future home for his mother and sister.

The next leg to Frankfurt took around six hours, during which Luca managed to sleep twice. He ate dinner onboard, sticking to his diet, while engaging in lighthearted banter with the Trampos Racing staff. Their camaraderie was infectious, and Luca couldn't shake the thought that he might become too attached to them by the end of the season.

The final flight to Berlin was a brief hour-long journey, and they arrived in the afternoon. The sun blazed overhead with relentless intensity as they exited the plane, casting intense heat across the tarmac. As the team continued their chatter and laughter, Luca zoned out, seeking a moment of solitude. He reached for his MP3 player, letting heavy metal and intense instrumentals wash over him.

Loaded with their belongings and gear, the team made their way to the large bus waiting for them at the airport. It was painted in the signature red, white, and black of Trampos Racing, ready to ferry them to their headquarters. The atmosphere remained lively as they boarded.

Luca still found it difficult to believe that this crew—previous drivers, engineers, mechanics, strategists, data analysts, tire changers, and even the unsung heroes in logistics—did this 12 times a year for an entire season. Now, he understood why every engineer and mechanic screamed in joy and fell silent in sadness during the race. This was a whole new passion for them, and Luca suddenly felt unworthy to be among such dedication, especially after recalling his own lost love for the sport some time ago. Taking a deep breath, he made an internal promise: this season would be different. Trampos Racing would rise together, and they would celebrate their first championship. They would have more to celebrate.

As the bus maneuvered through familiar streets on the way to the Trampos Racing headquarters, Luca felt a sense of nostalgia settle over him. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow, its intensity tempered by the tinted windows, softening the rays that reached his face.

When the bus finally pulled into the open parking lot, Luca could see it was already filled with various vehicles, likely belonging to the management and notable figures of the team. The crew began disembarking, their chatter filling the air—some conversations light and joking, others more serious as the team reconnected with those who hadn't traveled.

The drivers—Luca, Ansel, Haas, and the young American, Victor—were excused for the rest of the day to recuperate, while the rest of the team got straight to work. There was a palpable energy in the headquarters as luggage and equipment clattered and voices mingled in the background.

Luca wheeled his suitcase into his modest living space, pausing to take in the small but functional room. The neatly made bed, the minimalist decor, and the wide windows that let in the filtered sunlight made the space feel almost temporary. He frowned at the thought. What am I thinking? Why am I considering staying here permanently?

He couldn't believe he had the idea of treating this room as home when he could easily afford to rent or buy a much better place. The distant sounds of crew members unloading equipment and talking drifted into the room, grounding him in the moment. Determined to change his mindset, Luca resolved to find a better place.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, he quickly sent a message to Sara, who was still en route with Mallow. He outlined his plans about securing a more permanent and comfortable residence.

Luca then turned his attention to his notifications. Isabella had sent him four new messages, the last one ending with, "What do you think?"

He hesitated, biting his lip. Experience with his sister Sophia had taught him that when a woman asks, "What do you think?" it demands thoughtful consideration and a response that aligns with what she likely wanted to hear. Luca decided to stall his reply, wanting to choose his words carefully.

He then decided to check the upcoming race details. If I remember correctly, we don't have any more races until mid-April, right?

Monaco Grand Prix

Location: Monte Carlo, Monaco

Date: Apr. 10

Track: Circuit de l'Étoile (A.K.A. Stellar)

A smirk crept across Luca's face. He knew Monaco well and its legendary glamorous association with motorsport. The variety in race locations never failed to amaze him, from iconic circuits to unexpected city streets.

Recalling the Daily Quest his System had assigned while on the bus ride to the headquarters, Luca stood up to get started.

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At the break of dawn the next day, routines commenced as usual until it was time for the team training session that Mr. Grant had scheduled for all drivers.

The facility doors opened for a newcomer—a middle-eastern man who introduced himself as Luca's Personal Trainer. Each of the four Trampos Racing drivers had their own dedicated trainer, present for both team-wide and individual gym sessions. This was Luca's first face-to-face encounter with his trainer, matching everything Sara had shown him on her phone. The man was of average height, with dark brown skin, black cropped hair, and a chiseled jawline that hinted at his physical discipline.

"Good morning, Luca. My name is Amir, Amir James," the trainer introduced himself, extending a hand for a casual handshake. Luca's eyes didn't miss the visible muscles carved into Amir's arms and shoulders. He cautiously reached out and grasped Amir's hand. As he expected, Amir's hand was as strong as steel.

"I'm glad to have you as my personal trainer," Luca said with a smile.

"The pleasure is mutual, my friend," Amir responded, scanning the training hub with an approving nod.

The training hub featured exceptionally advanced gyming equipments, especially cardio stations and free weights lying everywhere. There were simulation rooms to the side to give a large space for dynamic sessions and also for the team to walk freely like they were doing. The walls proudly displayed the Trampos Racing banner and the bold logo of their top sponsor, Catapult, unified in shades of red, black, and white.

Catapult had a reputation for pioneering wearable training technology—GPS trackers, heart rate monitors, and other devices athletes used to fine-tune their performance. Luca glanced down at his wrist, where one of Catapult's sleek trackers blinked steadily.

"I'll get today's training draft from your principal, tailor it to your strengths, and add a touch of my own," Amir said with a confident smile before walking away to gather the materials.

Just then, Ansel entered, a towel draped over his shoulder, his German trainer following closely behind. The trainer's muscular frame made him look more like a bodyguard than a fitness expert. Within minutes, Haas and the final Trampos driver filed into the room with their trainers in tow, the sound of weights clanking, staff bustling, and jokes filling the space. It felt as if every member of Trampos Racing was part of a tightly-knit family.

The training crew began setting up performance metrics and screens, aligning everything for the session ahead.

Soon, training commenced under Mr. Grant's watchful eye. The physical trainers moved in tandem with the team, their expertise blending seamlessly to push the drivers to their limits. Each exercise was tailored to build endurance, enhance reflexes, and prepare the body for the physical strains of the track, all essential for peak performance in the relentless world of motorsport.