Interpellation

A group of men entered the clinic room where Luca stood. Two of them, he quickly recognized as Mr. Vance and his assistant, Mr. Mallow. A petite nurse maneuvered through the suits of imposing men, a smile on her face as she approached Luca.

"How are you feeling now, dear?" she asked, inspecting his bandaged head. "These men are here to ask you a few questions, okay?" Peering into his eyes, she urged his comprehension, and Luca slowly nodded nervously.

His eyes flicked to Mallow, who had his hands in his pockets, before shifting to Vance, whose arms were folded. Luca nearly shivered when he met Vance's gaze, which seemed to hold a menacing intensity as if he wanted to devour and tear Luca apart.

One of the other men in suits spoke up once the nurse left the room, leaving them with the boy on the bed. "We are here to question you on some specific things, and we would like you to answer in detail," the Asian man said with a stark face. "Do not look at your supposed employers. Look at us, the Federation Officials. We are the ones conducting this interrogation. Let's say they are just here to make you feel less nervous."

Less nervous?! His eyes are stabbing me to death!

Luca cleared his throat before replying, ensuring his voice came out firm and unthreatened. "The Federation Officials?" he asked for clarity, surprised that he was before some high-ranking men of power, or rather, men who were directly or indirectly under men who wielded power.

"Yes... Luca," the Asian man replied with a pause, his arms crossed behind his back as he raised a brow. "That is your name, am I right?"

"Yes, it is."

"Good. I will start by saying we are sorry for the accident that nearly cost you your life. It was a terrible thing to happen to someone as young as you," he said with another sharp pause, glaring at his colleagues. "But this wouldn't have happened if you were an official member of the track marshals, would it?"

Luca noticed that Vance grew uneasy after the Asian man's last words. He was tapping his shoe on the floor, his tongue flicking across his lips, and his chin moving left and right.

"I—I don't understand," Luca stammered.

"Luca Rennick, did Mr. Vance here hire you to work as a track marshal for today's race?"

Luca's heart began to pound in his ears, a trickle of sweat dribbling down his neck. His gaze flickered anxiously around the room as he tried to find the right words to reply, when "yes" was simply the answer.

"Y—yes," Luca answered, stealing a glance at Vance, who looked enraged by his affirmative response. Wait?! What's going on here?! Is he trying to deny that?!

Before Luca could piece things together, another question was thrown at him. "And did Mr. Vance train you on the responsibilities of a track marshal?"

"Yes."

"He did?" The Asian man asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned surprise, which Luca could easily tell. "If I may ask, how long was the duration of this training? A week? Five days? Two days?"

Luca swallowed, deciding it would be best to answer correctly and bail himself out of what seemed to be going on between the men. "Two hours," he answered. "I was only trained for two hours."

The Asian man smiled briefly, as if he was expecting the answer. Nodding his head, he continued, "And the hour after that, you marshaled for an official race, am I right?"

"Yes, sir," Luca said, feeling Vance's gaze piercing through him.

"So, do you mean to say that the accident that occurred today between 26-year-old Squadra Corse star Antonio Luigi and 18-year-old fraud Luca Rennick was caused by your incompetence, ignorance, and amateurism as a track marshal?" the Asian man asked, adjusting to a firm stance.

What?!

The room was laced with silence after the man's question, all eyes on the boy on the bed.

Is he trying to say the accident was my fault? It was not my fault at all! The racer was reckless; he was trying to overtake at a bend and crashed into me. That was what happened! I did my job as a track marshal well!

"I'm sorry, sir, but I do not understand what you mean by that," Luca said, refusing to answer such a question. "The driver had left the track and hurtled toward me—"

"Left the track?" the man interrupted Luca. "It sure seemed to me that you were the one who edged closer to the track. Sure, he did veer off lane, but kid, if you were a trained marshal, you would have known being in such a spot would put you in grave danger."

Luca frowned, evident displeasure and anger etched on his face. He pushed himself upright, shaking his head. I know the rules of racing inside and out. I know where a marshal can stand. "You can't tell me that, sir," he protested.

"I believe I just did. The unethical hiring of untrained personnel is what led to this casualty—"

"No, I was in the right track. The driver veered off insensitively," Luca defended himself, his voice rising despite the ache in his head. "I was on the right path," he repeated with determination.

The Asian man stared at Luca intently, as if studying the internal injuries that had supposedly responded well to medication. The faint hum of the clinic's generators filled the air, along with the sound of the blowing AC. Luca glanced at the other men, who seemed to harbor varying sentiments about him.

Quickly piecing the situation together, Luca concluded that these Federation Officials were investigating the incident, if he could call it an investigation at all. They were clearly one-sided and biased, arriving with the mindset that Luca was at fault before even asking questions. It seemed to Luca that Mr. Vance, the Operations Manager of the Circuit, might face repercussions for hiring an inexperienced marshal for an official race.

Fuck, Luca cursed in his mind. If he had realized this earlier, he would have answered in favor of Vance.

The Asian man opened his mouth to speak when the door to the clinic room swung wide. He glanced in that direction, his expression displeased as the nurse revealed herself. "I thought you said you'd give us some time?" he asked, irritation clear in his voice.

"I'm sorry, sir. But his mother insists she sees her son," the nurse replied, glancing behind her. "You can come in, ma."

Luca's heart raced as he heard the word "mother." His eyes lit up when Mrs. Rennick entered the room. "Mom," he called, trying to draw her attention as she briefly locked gazes with the menacing figures around her.

"Luca, my son. Oh my goodness," she cried, tears brimming in her eyes as she rushed toward Luca. "Why does this keep happening to my family?"

"Mom, it's alright. I'm fine now," Luca reassured her, recalling his System.

"Fine?! Who knows how many broken bones and torn muscles they inflicted on you?!" Mrs. Rennick exclaimed, inspecting her son's bandaged body.

"It's alright, ma'am. He will be fine; the doctors have assured us he will be," Mallow interjected.

Mrs. Rennick shot him a fierce look. "Don't you dare tell me that. What if something had gone wrong, hmm? What kind of reckless racers do you have here?! Don't they have eyes to see my son?!"

"Mrs. Rennick, our investigation claims that Luca unintentionally edged into a motorable path on the track, leaving that racer momentarily disoriented," the Asian man stated, his face devoid of emotion.

Luca couldn't believe how he could lie so blatantly, showing no signs of remorse.

"Your investigation? Are you questioning my son?!"

"We were—"

"Shut up, and leave. He will be speaking to none of you anymore," Mrs. Rennick hushed the man.

The Federation Officials murmured among themselves; even Vance and Mallow spoke indistinctly. "But ma'am, we need to hear from your son to come to a conclusion on what transpired and how to prevent more events like this from occurring," the Asian man persisted.

"Oh, you will be hearing from his lawyer very soon," Mrs. Rennick hissed. Noting the confused expressions on their faces, she continued, "Yes, we are going to sue the Federation, the driver's team, and you too, the Circuit's management."

"Mother?" Luca looked at his mother in disbelief, expecting it to be a joke, but she was goddamn serious.

The Asian man didn't seem in the least worried by Luca's mother's threat. He shrugged and nodded once. "Alright, ma'am, we'll take our leave and await the charges," he said starkly before walking out of the room, his colleagues tagging along.

Vance spat out malice, pointing at Luca. "I knew you'd be a trouble seeking bastard," he hissed before stomping out. Luca's mother didn't hold back, throwing insults at him as he passed.

Left with Mallow, the middle-aged man walked to Luca's bed and pulled out his wallet. Counting five $100 bills, he dropped them on the mattress. "I believe this is your payment," he said, pocketing his wallet as he tapped Luca's hand. "Get well, kiddo."