Alyara Stroll has burst into the F1 world with much more than a bang. She's driving for RedBull off her own success rather than money, and she's trying her hardest to fit in and win her first race in her second season. Enter Ollie Bearman. His debut...
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𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 FOUR- 𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨
₊ ⊹⋆˙✮🍯 ⊹₊ ⋆✨.｡ 🏎*♡
oliver bearman
One light.
Two lights.
Three lights.
Four lights.
Five lights.
Out.
I guess it's 'lights out and away we go', then. The split-second reflex of pushing my foot against the pedal kicks in. Alyara swerves aggressively next to me, with immense amounts of speed. I blocked her off almost immediately, watching the rest of the grid speed ahead of us. I could almost imagine her yelling in stress on her microphone about how much she can't stand me when she really is laughing in her head. Well, I might be delusional on that last part but I am sure she's flailing around in her seat.
Encouragingly, I heard Riccardo say, "Great start, Oliver."
"Thanks, mate."
Directing, I heard him say again, "Let's push into this lap, go hard and we'll see how everyone's placing."
"Copy. How far away is Stroll?" I asked, suddenly turning on Turn 13, a long round haul.
"One point one seconds." Riccardo replied quickly.
"Copy." I refocused, avoiding the aggressive navy car behind me. She was constantly poking at my rear, almost chipping it off at the previous turn.
"Push, Ollie." Riccardo lectured, and then all of a sudden, she cut me off at turn 15, and I just barely slid in front of her.
Frustrated, I yelled back, "I AM! She's trying to cut me off the track!" There was no way that could pass, but I reckon she's smiling at trying to piss me off.
In reality, I couldn't believe how overly nice she was to me when I was supposed to hate my rival. In case you were wondering and I haven't mentioned it, we've driven against each other indirectly once, and now we're Ferrari versus Red Bull. And Ferrari doesn't necessarily love RedBull. Not a lot of people do.
"Keep calm, we'll figure it out." Riccardo tried to calm me down and I completed another lap.
"Fine."
The track was turning into muscle memory soon, so that meant I could focus on what's ahead, trying to power forward. In DRS range, I was able to fight Norris, still slipping behind, but I was happy with the car to an extent. After eighteen laps or so, my tyres began to wear, and my movements were sloppy, despite my constant defence on her and I was always pushing at Lando.
