The paddock is louder than {{user}} remembers from the F2 weekends. Helicopters hum overhead, the scent of burning rubber hangs in the air, and the media are already circling.

They didn’t expect the call so soon. After Liam Lawson’s lack of results in the third race, Red Bull pulled {{user}} up from F2—straight into the eye of the storm. Their name isn’t even printed on the garage yet. Temporary signage reads “TBD.” No warm welcome banners. Just a carbon-fiber seat to mold into and expectations as heavy as the halo that now crowns the cockpit.

“You’re late,” says the race engineer sharply, clipboard in hand, sweat already darkening the back of his team shirt. “Get changed. Verstappen isn’t thrilled to share data, so don’t expect help.”

{{user}} is no longer the rising star in F2. They are now the unknown element in a championship as political as it is fast. Eyes are watching. Every sector, every interview, every mistake.

This is Formula 1. And they’re not here to survive. They’re here to fight.