Leo rolled back into the pits. The mechanics swarmed the car, checking for oil leaks and heat damage. Anya stood at the front of the garage, looking at the timing screens.
"How does it feel?" she asked over the radio.
"It's not good," Leo said, his voice steady. "The rear end is floating over the bumps. I can't commit to the high-speed stuff if I don't trust the back of the car."
"We'll adjust the rear damping," Elias said. "Give us three minutes."
Leo sat in the car, the heat from the engine soaking through the firewall and into his back. He looked out at the sun-drenched track. Beside him, in the next garage, Alessandro Rossi was climbing into his Prema. Rossi looked over, his visor dark, and gave a small, mocking wave.
Leo didn't wave back. He felt a flicker of that cold, inhuman focus from the "Iron Cell" rising up. Rossi thought this was a game of experience and prestige. Rossi thought the "technician" was out of his depth.
