Let's rewind slightly to the moment Alex Sun overtook Viscaal.
In the commentary booth, Jolyon Palmer's voice carried the heat of the track, locking onto the live action with barely contained excitement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here are the latest standings!"
"Beckmann is holding P1 with flawless precision, every line measured to perfection. Alex Sun has just completed a brilliant move into P2 and is now glued to Beckmann's rear wing, pushing hard with absolutely no sign of backing off!"
Just as Alex Sun completed the pass, the first incident of the race erupted behind them. Palmer's tempo spiked, tension cutting straight through the broadcast.
"Attention! Collision in the rear pack after Turn 1! Drugovich and Lundgaard come together on corner exit—heavy contact!"
"Lundgaard is spun around—180 degrees—and slams rear-first into the barrier!"
Palmer paused briefly before continuing, his tone weighted with emphasis.
"This sprint race is turning into an accident magnet."
"Official notice: Lundgaard's engine has stalled. He's out. That's the fifth DNF of the race."
He quickly added clarification.
"Only Yellow flags in Sector 1. No Virtual Safety Car. The race had just restarted—officials are trying to preserve racing flow while marshals clear the track as quickly as possible."
Up front, Alex Sun kept his rhythm sharp. Down the long straight before Turn 3, he stayed tightly latched onto Beckmann, studying, waiting.
But the chaos wasn't over.
Approaching Turn 4, another incident began to unfold. Palmer's voice jumped again.
"Look at this! Armstrong is attacking Viscaal on the short straight before Turn 4!"
"They're going wheel-to-wheel! Armstrong commits to the outside, trying to gain the advantage before corner entry—but Viscaal refuses to give an inch!"
"Oh no! He's into the wall! Armstrong's gone off and hit the barrier!"
Palmer immediately broke down what happened.
"Viscaal, now down to P5, is desperate to defend. He claims the inside aggressively on entry and leaves Armstrong no space."
"Both cars lock up under braking!"
"In the end, Viscaal barely keeps it together and makes the corner. Armstrong loses control and slams hard into the barrier!"
"That's definitely a retirement. Sixth DNF of the race!"
Almost simultaneously, a yellow VSC icon flashed up on Alex Sun's display.
His expression didn't change. He keyed the TR calmly.
"Mark, Virtual Safety Car? Another incident behind?"
Mark responded quickly and cleanly.
"Correct. Armstrong into the wall. Full-field Virtual Safety Car deployed."
"Reduce to VSC delta immediately. Maintain current gap—don't close up. Use the window to warm the tyres and make adjustments. When it lifts, go for P1."
"Understood."
Alex Sun eased off the throttle smoothly, keeping precise control and a safe buffer while quietly building tyre temperature and recalibrating the car's balance. His eyes grew more focused as he mentally outlined the move he would make next.
To him, this incident did nothing more than delay the inevitable.
The broadcast cut back to the booth.
"Virtual Safety Car officially deployed!" Palmer announced. "Alex Sun holds P2 and hasn't been shaken in the slightest. He's using this pause to reset and build momentum."
"Once it goes green, expect him to strike."
The livestream chat exploded again.
"The Safety Car just ended—why so many crashes?"
"Alex Sun, watch the tyre temps! Don't bin it on cold rubber!"
"Lap 8 and already chaos everywhere!"
In the pit bay, Rebecca Lin stared at the race feed, eyes locked on Alex Sun's car. Hearing about another crash behind, she quietly pressed her hands together, fingers tightening as she silently wished him safe passage.
She believed in him completely. She was certain he would win this race.
Midway through Sector 1 of Lap 9, race control issued an announcement: the Virtual Safety Car would end in Sector 2 of this lap. The message was immediately relayed to drivers and viewers alike.
Mark's voice came through at once.
"Alex Sun, race control confirms VSC ending in Sector 2 this lap. Be ready. Keep your rhythm. Take every opportunity after the restart."
In the viewing area, Rebecca Lin let out a long breath. The anxiety drained from her eyes, replaced by pure anticipation. She stared at the screen, fingers tightening slightly as she silently urged him on.
After receiving the notice, Alex Sun continued warming the tyres, gaze locked on Beckmann ahead, waiting.
Lap 9, Sector 2.
The VSC ended. Yellow flags withdrawn. Green flag waved.
The sound of engines surged back to full fury.
Alex Sun's focus sharpened instantly. Every nerve was alert. His eyes never left Beckmann's car.
Green flag.
Beckmann held P1. Alex Sun immediately tucked in behind him, close enough to feel the turbulence.
Mark reminded him:
"DRS not active yet. Stay patient."
He obeyed.
He suppressed the urge to dive in, staying tight in the slipstream, waiting for DRS to return. His eyes tracked Beckmann's every steering input, every micro-adjustment. He maintained speed through the draft while scanning for weakness.
Lap 10.
DRS reactivated.
Alex Sun's eyes sharpened instantly.
Through Turn 2 and onto the long straight.
The moment he entered the DRS zone, he hit the button. Telemetry later showed his reaction time: 0.01 seconds—the fastest of the race so far.
He locked onto Beckmann's slipstream, speed climbing rapidly under the combined effect of draft and DRS. The two cars surged side by side toward the midpoint of the straight.
Alex Sun suddenly feinted to the outside.
As expected, Beckmann moved wide to defend.
That was his only defensive move.
The instant Beckmann committed, Alex Sun snapped back to the inside.
The slingshot effect hit perfectly. In a heartbeat, they were fully side by side, engines screaming down the straight.
Approaching Turn 1, Alex Sun braked impossibly late. The car pitched forward slightly as he hit the apex cleanly, sealing off Beckmann's entry line.
Fluid. Decisive. No hesitation.
He was through.
P1.
With eleven laps remaining, the objective was clear: control the pace, leave no room for retaliation.
In the commentary booth, Jolyon Palmer was on his feet.
"He's done it! What a move! That late braking was textbook perfect! Clean entry, no wasted motion!"
"He's done it! From P8 on the grid, he's carved his way through the field step by step—and now he leads in Baku!"
"Now the question is whether Beckmann can respond. If he can't, we may already be looking at the race winner!"
Out in front, Alex Sun was calmer than ever.
Taking the lead didn't make him relax. If anything, it sharpened him. Every line was exact, every corner measured to perfection. His pace stayed remarkably consistent, and the gap behind him began to stretch.
Wind tore past the cockpit, heat shimmering off the asphalt. The engine's roar never left his ears.
His eyes remained fixed on the track ahead.
Every throttle input, every turn of the wheel carried the quiet authority of a driver fully in command.
...
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