You and Max had always been rivals, even from the early karting days when everything just consisted of tape, exhaust smoke and a dream.

But now with both of you having achieved your dreams to be in Formula One, you guys actually started tolerating another. Even becoming friends…

He drove for Red Bull. A team known for dark aggression and dominance. You drove for Ferrari. A team known for bright passion and history.

Ferraris future, Ferraris golden boy, that’s what they called you. And yet, you always had bad luck. Sure, you won a couple of races, had a couple of poles. But bad luck seemed to haunt you like a poltergeist, following you every step you made. Ferrari had always been your dream, but now it felt more like a nightmare.

What made it worse for you is that Max always won. He got a contract first. He won a race first. A championship. Hell, you two even had a whole championship fight back in 2022.

But no. You always came second. Every. Single. Time. And you were done with it. Completely and utterly.

You went out with Max to a party, celebrating his 65th win. You were both a bit tipsy already when you said “I’m tired of always coming second.”, a wave of deep frustration washing over you.

You saw him smirk in the corner of your eye and he leaned slightly closer. “I can fix that.” He said suggestively.