Race Day: Nov. 28, Autodromo di Lombardia, Monza, Italy.
The playlist Luca had saved for race day finally had its part to play.
Five hours and twenty minutes—it was just the perfect amount of time it'd take to drive in the coach buses to Monza again and get prepared for the race, which would begin at 4:30 p.m. It was just enough time to fully lock into focus mode.
A composed, calm silence reigned over Trampos as they got ready to leave. Even from 5:00 a.m., when the team crew began preparing everything, loading equipment into the big trucks and making last-minute checks, everyone worked in silence.
Luca himself hadn't spoken to himself like he always did. He woke up a few minutes before his system chimed to begin the day and worked in his room just as the team worked below.
When it was time, they rolled out of the facility in the serene quietness of the morning. Avidavis Motorsport followed shortly after, but by then, Trampos had covered enough road that they couldn't even see their last trucks at the end of the fleet.
In fact, just like a cue, within the hour, every team was making their way to the circuit, whether their temporary base was in Milan, Monza, or another city. All 15 Formula 2 teams had their convoys rolling over gravel and tarmac, all 30 drivers grooming in silence, thinking about how they'd drive.
Mallow arrived at Parco Di Monza with Sara in a taxi. They hurriedly disembarked and dashed into the bustling park.
It was already afternoon—1:30 p.m.—and three hours to lights out, marking the start of the last race of the Formula 2 season. Parco Di Monza was crowded to capacity, like a swarm of bees and a colony of ants all together.
There was hardly any breathing space nor a walkable path to follow. Every direction was packed with people donning team colors, waving flags, and chanting in unison.
The majority were Velocità and Squadra fans, while Trampos fans had to mellow down in the open. They were in Italy, in the rival teams' home, so they were bound to be outnumbered no matter how many had flown in from Berlin to watch the race in person.
Sara didn't like the way Mallow dragged her along, pushing and weaving her way through. She did her best to stay on her heels without buckling over and to keep her purse and belongings close to herself.
Intense gatherings always turned out to be nothing but trouble, notorious for theft one could never get back.
"All the seats must be taken by now," Sara said, yanking her hand out of Mallow's grasp. "We should just find somewhere to squat in a café or something," she suggested, though she didn't seem thrilled by her own idea.
"Hell no, we're not doing that," Mallow shot back, grabbing her hand again and continuing the search. "I have a friend who promised to get us seats. Let me just find him."
Sara sighed as she was pulled along. If Mallow had just listened to her and bought tickets early, they wouldn't be wandering around, searching for seats outside the circuit.
Now, during the most important race of Luca's career so far, they'd be watching from giant LED screens outside the circuit—or worse, crammed into a café with a hundred others, the air thick with the smell of beer. Mallow at least promised they'd find a spot in front of an LED screen and not be stuck inside a suffocating bar.
First, though, he had to find this his friend. He even paused to make a call, and while he did, Sara took the chance to glance around.
There were different seating sections on the park's near grass, each with about a hundred chairs arranged in perfect 10x10 squares, all facing massive screens. Every single seat was taken, yet people still roamed around, looking for an opening.
Mallow finally spotted someone he'd been directed to and made his way over. To his relief, two seats had been reserved for them.
"And you are?" Mallow asked after expressing his thanks. This wasn't his friend at all, yet he'd been sent to him.
"Doesn't matter. I'm a friend of your friend," the man replied, extending his right palm. "Now pay up."
Mallow's friend, Toti, hadn't mentioned anything about paying, but it seemed this guy had different plans. Mallow glanced at Sara, silently pleading for her to cover it because he'd forgotten his wallet.
Sara exhaled sharply, reached into her purse, and pulled out a neatly folded bundle of cash. Just as she was about to hand it over without even counting, she caught sight of the third seat next to theirs. A Velocità shirt and two packs of cigarettes were placed on it, clearly marking it as taken.
"I want this one too," Sara stated. "Three seats."
"That's rude, Sara," Mallow objected. "Someone already has that seat."
"You forgot your goddamn wallet at a place . I'm the one paying, so I want it," Sara countered flatly. "Besides, that 'someone' is probably off somewhere gambling and drinking."
She turned back to the guy holding out his hand. "Can you make it happen?"
"I respond to cash," the man said bluntly.
Sara handed him the money. He counted it, clearly impressed as it was more than enough to exclusively secure an entire row if they wanted.
Like a soldier following orders, the man casually gathered the pack of cigarettes and the Velocità shirt, then pasted a sticker on the seat to officially mark it as Sara and Mallow's. Without another word, he left.
Sara and Mallow exhaled as they finally took their seats, glancing around at the controlled chaos unfolding around them.
The big screen before them was already rolling footage of the season so far, recapping dramatic moments, unexpected crashes, and strategic masterstrokes.
Detailed analytics followed, breaking down each driver's performance, their strengths and weaknesses, and what to expect from today's race.
Heat maps of overtaking zones in previous races in the circuit, tire degradation comparisons, and even simulated predictions flashed across the screen, giving fans a final taste of anticipation before the real action began.
Minutes later, the broadcast switched to a stunning aerial view of the track, its beauty on full display for the world to see. The lush grass bordering chicane after chicane, the towering barricades standing as potential crash sites, and the legendary corners that had witnessed historic battles—all of it was shown in breathtaking detail.
The cameras then panned over the grandstands, packed with over 200,000 spectators, a sea of passionate fans waving flags and banners.
The broadcast didn't miss the arrival of influential figures making their way to their luxury suites.
Mr. Kingston... Dan, was there just like everyone else. And despite the cold, he had decided to dress in the most offbeat manner. Wearing a loose beach shirt, khaki shorts, sunglasses, and a bin hat, sipping from a fine glass as if he were on a tropical vacation instead of at the F2 season finale.
He casually strolled into a suite filled with sharply dressed businessmen, men like Mr. Marchetti.
The cameras also cut to shots of the outermost garage rooms and paddocks of each team, placing special focus on those still in championship contention.
After that, the view returned to the track again, and an announcement was made for a musical performance by TwoFluffyEggs, a music band set to kick off the event.
Mallow sighed as he relaxed deeply into his chair, casually waving at a hawker selling snacks.
He reminisced on last year and how the last race of the season had been kicked off. A band performed as well, just like always for Formula 2, while Formula 1 often had one single popular musician taking the stage.
Back then, he never expected the next year would be different for him. That he'd actually care about the outcome of this race. But here he was, invested—not just as a spectator, but because he had a client on the grid.
Mallow sat up with a suddenness that startled Sara. He glanced around, noticing how many Velocità and Squadra fans filled the outside, while Trampos fans were as rare as any other non-Italian team supporters.
He told Sara to attend to the hawker that was approaching, then he left his seat and ventured out to the nearest store in the park.
Fortunately, they had Trampos sweaters and scarves. They were just a few, barely enough to be called merchandise.
Mallow bought anyway with his card and returned to Sara, handing her the scarf while he removed his coat and pulled on the sweater.
Mallow quickly sensed the hostility from the Squadra and Velocità fans beside and behind him, but he didn't care.
This was the day where Luca dethroned both Max and Bueseno Velocità Jnr.
This was the day where Trampos became F2 champions.
And he was sure of it.