The Team // A Formula One AU

Nikita

Who would have guessed the first rainy session of the championship would be in the middle of the desert?

Droplets roar on the roof of the garage and flow down in waterfalls in front of the door, and every so often there's a blinding flash as a clap of thunder makes at least half of the people around me jump. The storm is directly overhead, meaning we aren't allowed to leave the garage for fear one of us could be turned into a smoking pile of ash. It's been almost an hour and now the sky is so dark it looks like we might not be able to qualify at all.

"Who's actually here, again?" Tom winces and brings his hand to his temple, massaging slowly with his fingers. I don't blame him, Lando is acting like he hasn't seen rain for ten years.

"Me, Nikita, Lando and Daniel."

"Thanks, Valtteri. Can you believe this?"

Valtteri glances outside. "Las Vegas wasn't built for this weather."

This morning I woke up in a mad panic. There's always someone who's late in the morning but the wind last night reminded me far too much of the orphanage to be able to fall asleep on time. By the morning I had probably only slept four hours and so I missed everybody's alarms. I'm not sure what excuse the others had, but the four of us ended up being rushed to the track in a taxi half an hour after the bus left.

And it still hasn't arrived.

"Lucky you're here," Daniel says to Tom, sitting down on an overturned bucket. "Otherwise we'd probably be combining all our karts into one giant transformer while we waited out the end of the world."

Tom smirks and I roll my eyes. Lando finally comes inside barefoot, apparently deciding it's still warm enough to act like he's at the beach. His hair sticks to his face but his eyes are overbrimming with childish joy. He must have had a very exciting childhood, growing up in the British weather.

"Has the bus arrived yet?" He chirps and Tom shakes his head.

"I never thought I could miss the stupid thing this much."

I scowl whenever I think about the bus. It looked greener than ever in the grey light this morning. Every time I see it I'm filled with embarrassment for the horrible vehicle we're always driving around in. How will potential sponsors ever take us seriously if they see us roll up in that?

Tom's phone vibrates.

"Hello? Oh man..." Tom listens for a second then mutters a string of curses he would never allow us to repeat. He says goodbye and turns to us, stony faced.

"That was Peter. He drove over some debris from the storm and now they've got a flat tyre, and obviously there's no spare. They're trying to get here but it's proving difficult to find enough taxis for everyone in this weather, they're all booked up. They could be at least another hour."

Daniel kicks a bolt across the garage floor dejectedly. Lando opens his lunch.

A bang from behind me makes us all look around. A soaking man wearing only a white business shirt and trousers comes squelching towards us with an apologetic smile.

"I think you know what I'm going to say," he drawls with his American accent.

Tom looks towards the pit lane and the waterfall which is now worse than ever.

"We won't be able to race today?"

"Sorry, it's just too dangerous and the water won't even start to drain before sunset. Feel free to keep using the garage, though."

"Thanks..." Tom sighs and puts his head in his hands.

"We could always qualify tomorrow morning?" Daniel suggests through a mouthful of Lando's apple.

"What about a reverse grid from last week?" Valtteri asks.

Tom lifts his head. An idea is spreading across his face like a bad rash. He grins and stands up, suddenly full of energy.

"Let's do a random draw for the grid positions."

"What?" Valtteri furrows his brow. "Can you do that?"

"I'm the team principal, I can do whatever I want."

Daniel grins with a shrug and pulls his map of the track layout from his folder. He flips it over and starts scrawling out the names of everyone on the team.

"Are we sure we can't qualify normally?" Lando asks.

"You heard the man, it's too dangerous. Besides, this'll be a great way to really see who's good in a race."

Daniel tears his paper into shreds and pours them into the discarded Fortress cap that's been lying on the table all week gathering smudges of oil. He hands it to Tom who folds it closed and shakes it vigorously.

Tom holds the hat out towards me.

"You want me to draw a name?" I ask. Tom nods with a smile as if this is the most exciting game ever invented and an idea comes into my head.

I stand up, close my eyes, reach into the hat and pull out a name. Nico Hulkenberg.

"Nikita Mazepin," I say.

"Really?" Tom laughs. "What a coincidence."

I nod and drop the name back into the hat.

"Wait, no Nikita. Keep your name so we can remember what order they were all pulled out in."

"Oh, okay." I rustle around in the hat for a second before latching onto the paper I need. It was mercifully easy to find.

"Nikita on pole, everybody! Who's next to draw a name?"

I turn to sit back on my stool but Valtteri snatches the paper from my fingers before I can.

"Don't believe me?" I mutter as Lando screams out that Kimi will start second.

"Never," Valtteri hisses and thrusts my name back into my hands with a look darker than the thunderclouds outside.

"By the way guys, let's not tell the others about this until tomorrow. Nice way to surprise them."

"If the rain ever stops..." I mutter. We lay the papers on the table in their grid positions as they come out. Pole. I'm going to have to do some serious preparation to make the most of what I've done today.