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With fast strides, Etho is walking through the paddock.
They’re starting the first practice round in a few, and Etho has not been doing too well the past few races.
It’s fine, there are still teams doing much worse than them, but he is online. He knows what the fans are starting to say about him. Less him and more Bdubs, if he’s entirely honest. But he’d much rather prefer them attacking him than ganging up on a rookie.
Etho’s got a racing career, one Championship title from a few years ago, and promising results in the past few seasons. Initially, he had been gunning for the championship this year, but then their fucking strategies had changed and Etho feels like every part of his car that was working had been replaced by something worse.
Doc, the race engineer and one of his closest friends, had drunkenly ranted about the stupid decisions that had been made despite his advice more than once.
One would think that, if you were in possession of one of the fastest cars and had the staff and tactics to make it work, you wouldn’t want to throw everything away the second a sponsor came along and promised “even faster” parts. But Etho knows how far removed from the circuit the team chefs are.
And he can say that. Because, believe it or not, he is in here because of his love for racing.
Yes, sure, there may have been some nepotism involved – his father having been a Formula 1 racer as well – but he does genuinely love the sport. And there’s criticism about the term “sport” going around right now as well, mostly on the burning cesspit of what was once Twitter, which he knows better than to pay attention to. But still, he is a high-performance athlete and if one other person accuses him of faking his sweat, then he might kill a man. And make it a hit-and-run whilst he’s at it.
Doc laughs at him, as he explains his reasoning, then he raises his glass, still half full of beer, and gives him a toast.
“To better strategies!” He shouts, the alcohol making him unaware of the volume with which he is speaking. “And to intelligent fucking sponsors!”
Etho nods slightly.
He can agree to that.
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Tango is seething with rage as he is awarded another penalty.
He hadn’t even fucking done anything!
And even looking back at the footage, his car hadn’t even come near Beef’s. And even the other driver had admitted that in the interview following their race.
‘Forever an Insufferable pain in the Ass’, he thinks, remembering that meme Etho had sent him a few weeks ago.
Right now, he is the driver with the most penalties on the grid, and really, it would be kind of funny, if it weren’t so incredibly frustrating. Not only does it negatively impact his races, it also feels as if the FIA was singling him out. Nitpicking everything he does and deciding to give him a penalty either way, no matter his actions.
And now he has to go to the stewards for swearing as well.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
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This pit stop had been the fastest this season, and Pearl and Gem high-five in delight.
In the background, they can hear Doc talking with some other mechanics, presumably to figure out what had gone so well this time so they could strive to repeat it.
They just look at each other, aware that soon Doc will be all excited over some new juicy data he can analyse, and smile. The guy may not intuitively be someone one would refer to as a “People Person”, but if there’s one thing the German love more than fast cars and getting drinks with Etho, it’s organising a team and leading them to be the best version of themselves. (Or something along those lines. Neither of them really listens to his speeches anymore, if they were honest.)
And a swearing Doc is always a sight to behold.
Especially when Gem and Pearl are slightly tipsy as well, on the rare occasions that the entire team gets out to get drinks. Not that that has happened this season, seeing as their car is shit.
And the team can do as good of a job as they want, if the parts suck, then the car sucks as well.
They have tried to enhance the car’s performance as much as possible, modifying and repairing it more times than they could count, and, admittedly, they were doing better now. It would never be enough to get the title. Not for Etho as their best driver to win the solo championship, and not with him and Bdubs in combination. The team’s title will not be theirs either, and although it sucks, there is not much they can do about it for the remaining races.
Recently, they have just been hanging onto their hope that next year will be a better one. Preferably one, where all of their team’s talent was actually enough to make a difference.
Right now, they are celebrating if they get P8.
And to think that only two seasons ago they were getting podiums regularly–
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Doc is biting his nails, watching as Etho turns the car around. His knuckles are white with the force he’s been gripping the desk with his left hand.
Etho is currently in P1, Bdubs has good chances to make it to Podium as well, and if everything goes well and Beef doesn’t take over and snatch Pole Position, then it will be the first victory in what feels like ages.
Etho turns, Doc’s body tightens in anticipation, and and-
“Mein Gott, muss das sein?” The words are ripped from his throat without his say so. His hand slams on the desk, the screens on it wobble dangerously. “So ein Scheiß aber auch!”
Something in Etho’s car had gotten stuck, it had turned, and then careened straight off the track and into the barriers.
Thankfully it looks like he is okay, but Beef is now P1 and Bdubs is, even with doing his best, not good enough to take the win back.
If Doc weren’t trying so hard to compose himself, then he might’ve thrown his headset onto the floor in frustration.
He has better control of himself, though, and so he only lets out various grunts with audible murder intent behind them. (Not that he’s threatening a specific person, he knows how hard the mechanics had worked on the car, but sometimes even the best work can yield such shoddy results. And he’s gotta work through his feelings somehow.)
If only he and the team’s principal were the only ones in the room right now. Though, he thinks that may not be the best idea. Who knows what he would say at this moment… and he definitely doesn’t want to risk getting fired over such a small incident.
Etho is still doing fine, it seems like, so at least they don’t have to worry about being one driver down. (And he doesn’t have to worry about going grey even earlier due to his reckless friend thinking it would be fun to see the barriers up close whilst going 100+mph).
They do have emergency drivers just begging for the chance to start on the circuit. To get to the real deal. But there is a reason they are not part of the main drivers to get a seat at the start of the season.
With his head in his hand, Doc sinks back down onto his chair, taking a few deep breaths so he can solely focus on Bdubs now.
Because if there is one thing, everyone on their team has in common. It is that they are a bunch of stubborn bastards who will persevere.
No matter what comes.