Furious. Seething.
George Russell was not happy with his performance, and he was even less happy with the result.
He had the chance to turn the race on its head at Turn 2, to take the lead and become the savior of ART. He could have been the hero.
But now?
He hadn't saved anyone. Instead, his reckless gamble had made him the villain, plunging ART into chaos.
Just imagining the disappointed look on Toto Wolff's face, or his father screaming at him over the phone, blaming him for everything, made Russell lose control.
He had spent so much effort, endured so much to earn this academy spot. And in his very first outing, he'd been humiliated by a clueless outsider?
The rage burned out of control.
Russell knew this wasn't him. He was usually calm, composed. He didn't let emotions dictate his actions. He hated losing control. He refused to become a monster like his father, exploding in rage and blaming everyone else.
But it wasn't that simple, was it?
After the race, the frustration and dark thoughts swirled in his mind, and the burning hormones finally overwhelmed his reason.
"What the hell were you doing in Turn 2?"
It was all because of him.
Russell glared at Kai, forgetting that the entire team was watching. He was an intruder, crashing the party.
But he didn't care. In that moment, he didn't have time to worry about optics. He just needed to vent.
Kai looked at Russell's twisted, angry face, completely confused. "Racing?"
Russell froze, choking on his words.
Kai's eyes went wide, his expression innocent and sincere. "You know, driving a car in circles on a track. Turning when you see a corner."
Russell: ...
Before Russell could respond, another figure burst into the garage like a ball of fire. He charged straight at Russell, stopping nose-to-nose with him. His voice was low, his teeth clenched, every syllable spitting venom.
"Do you know what you were doing? You completely ruined my race!"
It was Jack Aitken, his face red, his eyes bulging with rage.
Every muscle in Aitken's body was tense. He was using every ounce of his strength to stop himself from throwing a punch, but he was shaking with the effort. Behind the anger was a crushing frustration and defeat, erupting like a volcano.
Swords drawn, bows bent. The situation was about to explode.
Then, a voice broke the deadlock. It was light, soft, devoid of any authority, almost comical.
"Oh? What are you two doing?"
It sounded like a passerby just stopping to watch the drama. But when everyone looked over, they saw Frédéric Vasseur strolling closer, casually eating a pink ice cream cone.
Instantly, everyone held their breath. They looked away, busying themselves with work, pretending Aitken and Russell didn't exist.
Vasseur took a slow lick of his ice cream. "You two. Yes, you two, getting ready to stage a Spanish bullfight right here. Come to my office."
He waved a hand, not even naming them, confident there would be no misunderstanding. Then, he turned his back on them and sauntered away. As he passed Kai and Hubert, he gave them a wink, a mischievous, impish grin on his face.
Without another word or action, Vasseur waddled off.
Aitken and Russell broke eye contact. Neither looked at the other. They silently followed Vasseur toward the office.
The conflict, briefly ignited, was extinguished before it could explode. Calm returned to the garage.
Borreipaire was all too familiar with scenes like this.
GP3 was a stepping stone, a transit station to F2 and F1. Many interests were tied up in these drivers. The team knew it, the drivers knew it. Naturally, the internal atmosphere was a bit different from a normal team.
A situation like ART's this year, with an entirely new driver lineup, wasn't uncommon. New members, new season, everyone carrying the weight of expectations and their careers on their backs. Everyone was fighting on the edge of a cliff. Conflict and sparks were inevitable.
And crucially, these were teenagers. Hot-blooded, impulsive teenagers. Their runaway emotions were harder to tame than wild horses. A single spark could turn the pit lane into an inferno.
So, Vasseur had stepped in to control the situation with Aitken and Russell.
But Borreipaire was worried about Kai.
After hesitating for a moment, he went to find him. Managing a driver's emotions was also part of a race engineer's job, and a very important one.
Kai was in an ice bath. After a race, muscles are inflamed, body temperature is dangerously high, and joint damage is a risk. Sitting in freezing water to cool down is standard procedure.
"...You're jealous of me right now, aren't you? I know. It's really hot out there," Kai said, dead serious, as soon as he saw Borreipaire.
Borreipaire looked at Kai, whose teeth were chattering. A smile touched his eyes, but he didn't joke back. "Are you okay?"
Kai looked confused. "Everything's perfect. Victory plus an ice bath. Double the effect."
Borreipaire let out a soft sigh. "What just happened... they weren't attacking you. They're just frustrated and disappointed. Oh. Sorry, I don't mean to make excuses for them, I just..."
His words were a bit jumbled. Kai chuckled. "Don't worry, Pierre. I don't bite."
Borreipaire: ...
Kai laughed even harder. "Come on, Pierre. We won. We should be happy."
"We." Borreipaire noted the word. Kai understood. This was a team victory.
Then, Kai's tone shifted. "I don't mind. Really."
Borreipaire was surprised, and he didn't hide it, looking at Kai with wide eyes.
"If they target you, hate you, envy you, it's because you have value. In sports, champions are always the ones being besieged and attacked. Everyone wants to drag you down. Reality is cruel. Clearly, no one is jealous of Alesi."
(Alesi: Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Wait, who's talking trash about me?)
"So, I take what happened today as a compliment. Because they feel threatened by me. Pierre, that's progress."
"From today on, they'll look me in the eye. No more looking down their noses."
Borreipaire stared at Kai, then slowly nodded. A smile crept onto his face, and a surge of ambition rose within him. "Then tomorrow, we should make them feel even more threatened. We can't let them down, can we? So, are you ready?"
Tomorrow, Sunday. GP3 had one more race: the Sprint Race!
That would be a challenge. In the GP3 Sprint Race, the top eight from the Feature Race are reversed on the grid.
In other words, Kai, who won today, would be starting from P8.
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