"...On the final straight in this Bahrain Grand Prix, Luca Rennick rolls himself toward the finish line! ON THREE TIRES! A BROKEN FERRARI, HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE!"
"...Ailbeart Moireach is charging—HE'S RIGHT THERE AT TURN 14 NOW! IT'S A DRAG RACE TO THE FINISH LINE....!"
The world seemed to hold its breath as Luca's battered Ferrari limped forward. In the Jackson Racing garage, engineers had their lips pressed tightly shut, the telemetry room was dead silent, and the main garage felt like a graveyard.
The commentary and announcements were happening far away, yet their impact resonated heavily within their base.
Ailbeart Moireach was closing in fast. His car was full of life, unhindered, devouring the gap between them. He was having a moment of his own. He was pushing himself to snatch the win at the very last second, swearing on his life.
He glided out of the turn, first left, then right, his Renault moving menacingly in Luca's mirrors.
