REWIND

‘The Golden Boy’ was a nickname that was often granted on a whim; in every sport, if a young competitor showed potential early on, and there was a void in the fan’s hearts that longed to be filled, the weight of the world would be placed on the kid’s shoulders without second thought. More often than not, the rookies who were cursed with the expectations of a God crumble under the pressure, either crashing out in a blink, or fading into mediocrity.

All this to say, the young man behind the wheel of Mclaren’s #4 had some big shoes to fill.

Jayce Talis, a 3x World Champion and an undeniable Mclaren legend had retired at the end of the previous season, battling 6th year veteran Steb and his Aston Martin, and the illustrious Caitlyn Kiramman in her Mercedes, to the very end of the season, ending his career on a high with a 3rd place finish overall. Now, Ekko was tasked with taking on his mantle, and serving as a teammate to another young driver, Maddie Nolen.

But mind you, a nickname like The Golden Boy didn’t come lightly. It came with obvious evidence of potential, and here on the 15th lap of Monza, Ekko was showing nothing but potential. 

Ekko glided from turn-to-turn with the practiced ease of a driver far beyond his years. While other rookies often took a while to adjust to the substantial power of an F1 car compared to F2, Ekko appeared to be in full control of the vehicle from the moment he entered his very first practice session. When asked about it, Ekko was reported saying his patience was the key to making quick work of adapting to the new car. “The car already knows what it wants,” he claimed, “all I have to do is listen.” But on a deeper level, Ekko’s poise was something even he didn’t completely understand.

As he rounded the corner to cross the line and begin his 15th lap, the familiar sound of his race engineer’s European accent came through his earpiece, “You’re making good time, Ekko, the Aston Martin is only 3.4 seconds ahead. Box next lap.” This was a statistic Ekko could confirm, as just up ahead, a dark green glint moved through the chicane at the end of the long stretch.

Curiously, Ekko asked, “How far behind is 6th?” Although, the long stretch he was on allowed his attention drift to his other senses, and Ekko swore he was beginning to hear another engine that wasn’t…his.

Unfortunately, his suspicions were confirmed. “0.1 seconds, defend 5th as best you can.”

Suddenly, Ekko’s right mirror was almost completely covered by the nose livery of a Haas, and from the neon green helmet plastered in wings and lightning bolts that poked out of the cockpit, it wasn’t difficult for Ekko to immediately recognize which of the two Haas drivers it was. Only one woman was electric enough to take a shitbox like that to 6th. 

The Haas’ front wing lined up with the rear-right tyre of the Mclaren, and so, Ekko made the conscious decision to not move in its way. As an unfortunate consequence, the Haas had no plans of stopping there.

Quicker than Ekko could count, the two helmets aligned. In sync, the two slightly turned their heads to glare at each other; there, a silent agreement was made. Not a truce, but not a battle, either; something in between that, something a little more familiar…

Something that made them feel like they were 15 again.

— — — —

Ekko really didn’t want to be here. He begged Benzo to let him stay at the shop alone. He tried every excuse in the book; homework, studying, chores around the shop, all to get around the fact that he simply didn’t want to go to a party if his friends weren’t there.

It wasn’t fair. Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder all got to go to some fancy-shmancy Piltover museum for the day, and Ekko wasn’t even invited. So, given that his parents put Benzo in charge of the young man while they were at work all the damn time, Benzo had forced Ekko to accompany him to some random party happening at The Last Drop.

The group’s absence was felt. Save for a few small children, - who Ekko had no interest in talking to - the entire bar was filled with old people, who Ekko had even less interest in talking to. If anything, the only people in this entire building he cared about seeing was Benzo (duh), and the man pouring the drinks. 

“Chin up, ‘kiddo,” Vander spoke, placing an opaque, metal cup before him. From his head’s sideways position, lying flat on the counter of the bar, Ekko’s eyes glanced up to see the old man pouring him a cup of orange juice, “a brain like yours is no use on hardwood like this.” Vander knocked twice on the counter before dropping a metal straw into the full cup.

“Exactly!” Ekko retorted, his posture immediately straightening back up at the chance to voice his complaints, “I should be at the workshop! What’s my brain supposed to do here?”

With a sigh, Vander walked off to another customer, “Genius without rest is a circuit without power.”

Ekko scoffed, taking the cup of orange juice into his hands. He stirred the drink with the metal straw as he turned around and scanned the room for anybody, just anybody that could fill the hole his friends had left here. Grown men played pool off to the left, groups of mostly women huddled around couches talking about who-knows-what. Now that he thought about it, Ekko didn’t even like orange juice; orange was Powder’s thing. The pulp disgusted him, he preferred apple juice. If he were to guess, Vander gave him this on purpose to make him miss Powder even more.

Off in the back, standing before the record player that spun vinyls which echoed throughout the bar, a girl with neon green hair appeared to be changing the song. 

She looked around his age; if his memory served him right, he’d seen her playing football with her little brother in the streets a couple times. He recalled them both sharing the same brightly coloured hair. Ekko wondered if it was genetic or dyed; unless his vision was faltering from boredom, one could mistake her hair from emitting a faint glow.

Lost in his thoughts, Ekko nearly forgot to note the sudden change in song. It seemed noteworthy enough for Vander to notice it as well, lightly bumping Ekko on the shoulder, “Ain’t this your song?” he asked.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” Benzo suddenly chimed in from the seat beside Ekko, “If he isn’t playing this out loud in the workshop, he’s whistling it instead!”

Ekko scoffed, holding back a laugh, “What? No, that’s not–”

“Is that so?” Vander asked, playfully.

“It is! Swear it!” Benzo doubled down, “I even tried taping his mouth shut once, and the lad just started humming it instead!”

“Well then,” Vander began, turning to Ekko, “what’re you doing still sitting here?”

Ekko’s brows furrowed, moreso in worry than anger, “W-What is that supposed to mean–”

“Get on up there, go show ‘em your stuff!” Benzo exclaimed.

“Me? DANCE?” Ekko was appalled at the mere thought of it. “These people are all, like, 40! I’m not dancing in front of these guys!”

Suddenly, a slightly higher-pitched voice startled him from behind, “Aw, moves don’t have age requirements, pretty boy!” Ekko nearly flinched when he turned to see who on earth had the audacity to talk to him. On second thought, he’d rather go talk to the old people.

“Well, look who the lightning dragged in.” Vander began, tone switching to something somehow even more friendly in an instant, “And what would your name be?”

The girl introduced herself, oddly cheery, “Zeri! I live a couple blocks down from here.” she said as she took a seat on the bar stool next to Ekko. His suspicions were confirmed, he had seen this girl before.

But, just for safe measure, Ekko turned to her, “You don’t happen to have a little brother, do you?”

“Mhm,” Zeri replied, waving over to the other side of the bar, “he’s somewhere…over there…I think?”

Ekko scoffed, turning back to the man wiping glasses with a fibre cloth, “Vander, when are you gonna put an age minimum on this place? Don’t you serve alcohol here?”

“So long as these lot know how to control their kids, all are welcome as of now.” The man replied. “But enough of Ekko’s rude manners, what can I get for you, miss? On the house.”

Zeri eyed the catalogue of drinks behind Vander, only to be met with rows upon rows of alcohol. Her head tilted in thought, ever so slightly.

“Hang on, I think I’ve got just the thing.” Vander cut off her thoughts before she could even come up with an answer. He moved towards a small drawer, below all the lavish glass bottles on display. “Now, vibrant hair like that needs something electric; something with energy.”

With the way he was describing it, Ekko thought he was about to serve battery acid into a glass. But in this grand, mysterious reveal, Vander pulled out a plastic bottle of…pineapple juice?

Ekko was nearly disappointed on the girl’s behalf, but when he turned to see her reaction, her eyes had still lit up at the sight. Vander shook the plastic bottle with the classic vigour of a bartender, and poured it into another metal cup, identical to Ekko’s.

“So you give her that, and then give me orange juice?” Ekko asked, offended.

“What’s wrong with orange juice?” Zeri asked back, curiously. 

“Whatever.” Ekko sighed, turning back to his own drink, stirring it once more with his straw. It was a repetitive motion. It let him think. When he stared into the orange inside the cup, he thought of Powder. He liked this thought.

Though, he was quickly rudely interrupted by the sound of metal slamming on the countertop beside him. With complete disregard for the straw, Zeri had seemingly downed the entire drink in less than 10 seconds. She let out a sigh of relief as she settled back into her seat, and slid the cup back over. “Damn, that was fuckin’ good!” She said to herself.

Then, she turned to Ekko, still stirring a completely full cup. “You gonna finish that?” She asked. Ekko’s reaction was deadpan, almost nonexistent, which seemed to remind her, “Oh, shit–the song’s like-halfway done!” Zeri gasped, practically jumping out of her chair.

Ekko turned to face the rest of the bar, expecting to see a large set of neon green hair run off, and out of his sight. The thought almost relieved him.

Except for the part where she didn’t run off at all. 

In fact, she stopped right in front of him, blocking his entire view. Their prolonged eye contact made him…slightly uncomfortable. Though, for a reason he didn’t know how to explain, he could feel his heart rate increase to an abnormal speed.

The girl had a sparkle in her eye. It seemed like she was this same-aged, same-heighted bundle of energy and happiness, with all the excess her body couldn’t contain gathering in her hair in a way which perfectly radiated her essence. 

And so, as his gaze fell softly downwards, Ekko saw a hand outstretched towards him. Zeri’s hand. His heart beat even faster as he looked back up into her optimistic, bright eyes once more. For some reason, the light seemed to hit her eyes a little differently this time; just a little brighter.

“Care to dance?” She asked, and Ekko didn’t know how to respond. He had never danced before, and taking Zeri up on her offer would mean having his first not be with the girl he dreamed of having it with. But man, he couldn’t help that Zeri had beat her to the punch.

After staring into her eyes for a few seconds longer than he felt comfortable with, Ekko figured, hell, it’s better than sitting here for another hour.

He took her hand, and a wave of electricity surged through him.

— — — —

“Don’t try anything risky. Keep this position safe.” Zeri’s race engineer advised her. In any other situation, she wouldn’t be opposed to it. Her driving style was energetic, but not stupid. The wires were bursting at the seams with power, but they were connected, y’know?

But here, in this unspoken invitation they knew they both agreed upon under their reflective visors, Zeri would be a fool to say no. “Pretty boy wants to dance…” Zeri muttered to herself, unknowingly relaying the message to her race engineer.

“Zeri…” he warned, an odd parental edge to his voice.

Their cars approached the first chicane neck-in-neck, their eyes never wavering from the other’s; like this was a staring contest with the wind whipping by them being an irrelevant distraction.

Who was she kidding? This wasn’t a staring contest at all! Staring contests are far more boring than this. This was something she couldn’t do with any other driver on the grid.

Her foot grazed the brake pedal…then slammed on it.

“Let’s dance!” She shouted. Whether or not he could hear it didn’t matter, this was a declaration Ekko could understand regardless.

In a move that nearly made Ekko flinch, Zeri’s car stopped abruptly, leaving him to fly ahead. Only then did he turn his head forwards again, being made terrifyingly aware of just how quickly he was approaching the sand of the chicane.

Ekko stamped on the brakes, just barely stopping before committing an utterly embarrassing collision. It was strange, Ekko normally prided himself on having a sixth sense for lines like these; like he had done them before, even on the first run. But here, and only here, he seemed to be destined to be distracted just a millisecond too long.

Ekko watched as the black and white Haas passed through the chicane with ease, causing him to be forced to make up the time. 

“What was that?” His race engineer asked, “you’re losing focus, Ekko.”

Through the long, winding bend of sector 1, Ekko let the speed of his Mclaren shine on full display. Zeri’s Haas was notoriously lackluster in almost all areas compared to the top cars in the championship, and Ekko intended to put her flaws on blast. 

If his eyes proved him right, the distance between the two coming into turn 4 and 5 should have been no more than 4 seconds. Though, he made note of keeping a careful eye on the second Aston Martin in his rearview, looking to capitalize on his earlier blunder.

The Mclaren took the two tightly packed turns with ease, the prevalent downpour making little to no effect on the car’s grip as it transitioned from apex to apex with practiced ease - an attribute Zeri’s Haas didn’t have the fortune of sharing.

Her slip up was minor, and she gained traction back quickly, but with a vehicle as threatening as Ekko’s Mclaren was chasing you, the second or two she lost from their gap was detrimental. By the time the two cars reached turn 6, Ekko was already hot on her tail.

Ekko made himself comfortable in her rearview mirror through the next corner. Pressure causes mistakes; best case scenario, she’ll push her car just a little too hard, and Ekko will breeze right by.

Zeri refused to swing wide on the entry to turn 7, holding the inside line like her life depended on it. But the Mclaren was begging to power through that apex, and if there’s one thing Ekko always listened to, it was his car.

Ekko took the corner with such tight precision, that the corner practically shot him out onto the coming straight. Ekko was basically riding Zeri’s taillights now, but fortunately, they just entered a DRS zone. He could almost hear the Mclaren writhe in excitement. 

Zeri remained dead set on keeping the inside. Her moves were stiff, clearly she hadn’t done this in a while. “Let’s dance.” Ekko muttered to himself, suddenly flinging his car wide of the Haas’ rear wing.

The two machines beyond engineering comprehension nearly tore the stones out of the tarmac as their engines shook the ground with rage. Smooth as butter, the Mclaren’s front wing aligned with the Haas’ cockpit. The panic that painted Zeri’s helmet the moment she glanced over was the funniest thing he’d seen all day, and the Mclaren still wasn’t done surging forward. 

The speed at which Ekko was gaining was agonizing, burning each other to their core in anticipation. By the time the next corner was in sight, the Mclaren’s front wing was merely a few centimetres away from breaking their gap clean, reversing it in his favour. Zeri’s teeth gritted hard enough to snap each of her bottom teeth in half as she begged the car under her breath, just a little bit longer, baby, c’mon…

They approached the slight left turn with the Mclaren being barely an inch in front. To take this left recklessly would be to risk colliding with the Haas on the inside. 

“Ekko, careful. Don’t push it.” His race engineer warned, but Ekko wasn’t listening. He wanted to see if Zeri had two left feet.

“Relax, man,” Ekko provided words of reassurance, only to break them down, “dance with me.”

So, as they approached the entrance of turn 8, Ekko slammed his wheel to the left. Hard. Zeri’s eyes went wide, her foot instinctively jamming the brake in horror as she watched the Mclaren take the corner without a moment of hesitation, flat out.

Ekko took the next 3 corners back-to-back-to-back without even thinking of lifting his foot off the gas. His hands and feet switched to autopilot, he was on his way to the perfect sector. 

“Double yellow, Ekko - I repeat, double yellow.” The race engineer broke through his state of flow, much to his mental disapproval. “Slow down and wait for further instruction.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ekko replied into his earpiece, absolutely appalled, “I just made the pass of a lifetime!”

“There’s been a collision on turn 1. Use this chance to return to the pit lane, please.”

Both the Haas and the Mclaren slowed to a crawl, and proceeded through the last corner of the lap with none of the flair and excitement they came into it with.

How dare they end their song.