4- Vigilante Shit

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They say looks can kill and I might try
- Taylor Swift

4



GP Australia




Charles Leclerc

I can feel it coming from the beginning of the weekend, this desire to piss him off and destabilize him.

I just need to figure out how and when.

And the opportunity finally comes of itself when the FIA convenes all the teams for a meeting regarding a regulatory change.

I'm waiting to see people desert Redbull's booth. Carlos comes up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"You're not coming?

- I'll join you. Don't worry, I just have something to do first.

- Okay, you're probably not going to miss much anyway, just try not to get noticed when you get there.

- You can count on me."

Carlos takes his hand off my shoulder and heads towards the FIA building.

I turn my face towards the Redbull premises and a smile stretches my face as I see the mechanics leaving the stands, soon followed by everyone.

Finally, Verstappen also left his stand.

My gaze lingered for a moment on his face, which did not reveal any particular emotion.

That man is probably made of ice.

I wait two more minutes to make sure I don't run into someone, I don't want to get caught.

I finally hurried to the Verstappen stand. The organization is similar to Ferrari and I have no trouble finding the driver's room.

I activate the wrist quickly and a triumphant smile appears on my face when I realize that this idiot did not take the time to lock it.

I hurry back inside.

My gaze quickly sweeps the small room. Everything is neatly tidied up. I don't know exactly what I expected when I walked in here, but the room seems to have never served.

And yet Verstappen's belongings are here.

I'm heading to a piece of furniture. I have to try to find something incriminating.

My hands are starting to go through the pilot's things. I come across clothes, shampooing and a multitude of basic things.

I'm putting his things back together the best I can.

I can't leave empty-handed. I would look even more stupid than what I'm doing right now.

An idea suddenly crosses my mind.

If I can't compromise him, I can make him angry. And what better way than to hide something that he never part with?

I get on my knees and start to rummage under his bunk, in the storage drawers. I need to act quickly before my absence from the FIA meeting becomes suspicious.

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