My Formula 1 System

The following morning after a personal gym session, Luca and Isabella had a proper breakfast for the day ahead. They had rescheduled her flight for a late morning flight, and Luca was set to have his clearance today. He had informed Sara that the car would be available for two passengers and they'd make a stop at the airport first before driving toward one of the Federation's stations in Berlin.

Each core motorsport country—such as England, Spain, Italy, Sweden, Germany, Australia, etcetera—had Federation stations that functioned as regional headquarters. These stations served as sub-quarters for administrative operations, driver evaluations, and regulatory oversight. They were equipped with medical facilities, advanced simulators, and testing areas to monitor driver fitness, enforce racing regulations, and provide technical support for teams affiliated with the Federation.

Luca's outfit for the day was a fitted white Trampos team-branded shirt, slim athletic joggers, and lightweight sneakers. On his wrist, he wore a Catapult watch—just a simple black band, as he didn't want to look too flashy. He collected his Driver ID as well.

Sara arrived early, settling comfortably in the living room with a light snack while Luca helped Isabella double-check her belongings to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Sara made no comment about Isabella, only offering a brief return greeting when the girl acknowledged her. She had expected Luca to start making noticeable changes in his life, and this—whatever it was—came as no surprise.

Isabella, on the other hand, immediately recognized Sara from the dinner party at the start of the season. She questioned Luca once more, and this time, he finally had to spill. Even though he had dropped the charade a long time ago, he had forgotten he never actually told Isabella—not that she ever truly believed him in the first place.

With light traffic, they reached the airport in twenty-five minutes, well ahead of Isabella's flight. Luca walked her to the terminal, ensuring she made it up the escalator without any issues. Their goodbye felt awkward—was a hug appropriate? A brief French kiss on the cheek, perhaps? In the end, a simple wave sufficed.

Returning to the car, Luca slipped into the passenger seat, buckled his seatbelt, and threw a glance at Sara.

"Just say what you wanna say."

Sara shook her head with a smirk. "Nope. I have nothing to say," she replied, starting the car and merging smoothly back onto the road.

The morning sun was bright and it was a busy Tuesday, though the traffic remained light. Luca settled into his seat, adjusting the fit of his Trampos team-branded shirt as he exhaled softly. His mind was already shifting away from his personal life and toward what awaited him at the Federation subquarters—his medical clearance, his next steps, and the gradual return to the high-intensity world of motorsport.

Sara got a call from Mr. Ammermann, who announced Trampos' medical team's arrival in the subquarters and had given their file remarks to the Federation's medic team for scrutiny.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

They drove deeper into the city, the surroundings shifting from towering skyscrapers and dense commercial districts to more industrial landscape like the place where Trampos' HQ was located. Large warehouses and research facilities lined the road, with motorsport hubs appearing with time.

Soon, the main structure marked by the emblem of "Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile, Berlin," loomed ahead as a multi-level built with sleek steel and glass.

Unlike standard race team headquarters, which focused on engineering and team strategy, the subquarters were designed for regulatory oversight, forwarding and relaying of information, general training, and driver medical evaluations.

Sara pulled into the designated entrance, scanning Luca's and her credentials at a security checkpoint before they were granted access to the underground parking facility. As the barrier lifted, she guided the car into a reserved spot, cutting the engine before stretching slightly.

Luca opened his door and stepped out, his eyes instinctively scanning the underground parking facility as if he was searching for something or someone.

Sara stepped out a moment later, locking the car with a subtle beep before walking alongside him.

The two made their way through security clearance, where Luca provided identification, underwent a brief biometric scan, and was granted level-three access—enough to move freely within the medical and administrative sectors. It didn't take long before they found themselves in a pristine white corridor leading toward the medical division, where two familiar faces awaited them.

"Luca! Right on time," Mr. Ammermann beamed, striding toward him and Sara in the hallway lined with Formula 1 art and framed photos of racing legends. "We've sent your updated reports to the Federation's medical board. Everything looks solid, but we'll need to run a few final assessments here before they clear you for competition."

Caitlyn followed closely behind. "You're moving well. How are you holding up?"

Sara leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed as she listened. "Let's not waste time, then. What's next?"

Mr. Ammermann gestured toward a nearby examination room. "Functional strength tests, reflex evaluations, and a final scan. Shouldn't take long."

"Let me remove the bandage first," Caitlyn added, motioning for Luca to lift his polo shirt.

Finally, Luca thought as he pulled it up.

The cool air hitting his skin after weeks of being wrapped up was an instant relief. As Caitlyn carefully peeled away the bandage, he let out a slow exhale, his muscles finally unrestricted.

The area where the injury had once been was slightly discolored but fully healed, with no residual swelling or discomfort.

He flexed his torso experimentally, rolling his shoulders and twisting his upper body slightly. Nothing. No sharp pain, no tightness—just pure, unrestricted movement.

"That feels so much better," he muttered, running a hand over his side as if to confirm it for himself.

Sara helped herself to one of the waiting seats while Luca followed Mr. Ammermann and Caitlyn into the first room.

----------------

The tests were routine but thorough. Luca performed a stability assessment, core endurance drills, and a reaction-speed test—all monitored by the Federation's medical systems. Sensors mapped his movements, and data was immediately relayed to a live performance analytics board.

Everything was running smoothly until the final clearance decision had to be made. That authority belonged to Dr. Konrad Weiss, one of the Federation's most respected medical officers, stationed at Berlin's base.

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From what Luca had learned, the man would be the one to give the final verdict.

Dr. Weiss reviewed everything in silence, conducting a few checks on Luca himself. He studied him for a long moment, then exhaled and signed the final authorization in the system.

"Do you genuinely think you're ready to drive? No hesitation?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm more than ready. That's why I'm here," Luca replied.

"Then, as far as the FIA is concerned..."

"...you're cleared for competition."