Lando was planning.

He was planning the demise of all those that had wronged and hurt him in the sport.

…

“Don’t you think it is better for me to just kill them and save you the bother?” Pierre asked.

The three had all gathered in Lando’s dimly lit room around the desk. The desk had an image of each F1 driver, including them.

“Pierre, you don’t understand.” Lando answered. “I have to kill them. No one else can.”

“But why?” Charles queried.

“Because I’m the one he hurt the most.” the Brit responded sharply. “Did they play you with their fake affections? Did they leave you when they were bored? No. These guys did all that to me. They led me on. They made me think there was something special going on between us. And I’m going to make them all pay.”

Pierre and Charles shared a glance before nodding.

“Good luck.” Charles said as Lando picked up the metal bat propped up against his desk. He nodded at them before being enveloped into the darkness of the night.

“You know, I cannot believe what’s happened to us.” Pierre murmured, lighting a cigarette.

“What do you mean, Tripod?” Charles questioned.

“I mean what turned us so cold. Lando especially. His heart is so cold.”

“Yours would be too if you had been wronged and disowned.” the Monegasque pointed out.

“He was disowned?” the older asked, surprised.

“Yeah. You didn’t know? When he came out to his parents he was disowned.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Pierre sighed, popping the cigarette out of his mouth. “Well, there’s nothing we can do to revert what we’ve done. We can’t bring them back when they go. I guess this is how it’s supposed to be.”

“This is how it’s supposed to be.” Charles echoed softly.