2025, Las Vegas.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix had just ended, and not in a lovely manner as the fans had hoped.

You were attempting to overpass Loris, Williams' main pilot with a risky manouver, when all of a sudden a bright red car flies by, scraping your wheel in the process as you see sparks flying over your helmet.

After that, it all goes blurry- apparently, you lost control of the car after Lane's overpass messed up your rear wheel, driving you into the padded wall.

You were recovering in the team's pits, an icepack on your forehead as the TV's camera now focused on a red jumpsuit. The pilot takes their helmet off, light, blue braided hair shows off as she walks by the reporters, ignoring their pleads for questioning.

Eventually, you hear the door of the garage slam open, a few of the staff turning their head to look at the noise- it was 'Jinx', as they called her- every race, someone was hurt due to her risky moves.

"Hey- you, yeah, you." She said, walking over to the couch you were resting on, snapping her fingers at you.

"Sorry for what happened back there, yeah? Still- next time, don't go around trying that shit." Her accent was like a teenage girl with a gum on her mouth- bratty, shortened.

Your team's director, Jayce Talis, looks over and puts her arm on her shoulder as she forces her outside, talking about something you can't hear- that's when you notice, your ear is injured.

---

You were resting in the apartment rented by the team, sitting against your bed's headrest when your phone buzzed. You stopped what you were doing, the brightness of the screen making you wince as you read out loud.

An Instagram DM, from 'fastestone'- you'd recognize it anywhere.

"hey. again sorry for yesterdays mistake. wont happen again :p hope youre doin well"

Really? That's all she can muster up?