The Adventures of the Silver Spider! Vol. 1: The Hornet's Hive

by shroomlights

Summary:

Andrea Kimi Antonelli: full-time Formula 1 driver; part-time Superhero.

Formula 1 is a sport full of surprises and Kimi Antonelli likes to think he's prepared for anything that his rookie season can throw at him, but there are some surprises even he can't anticipate. Things like the rise of a powerful Supervillain, the Hornet, and his Swarm. Before he knows it, he's juggling racing, homework, and saving the world - oh, and being in love with his best friend, former teammate, and Formula 1 rival, Oliver Bearman.

What could possibly go wrong?

Notes:

• For golden_heart.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUTUMN!! you finally get your birthday present after weeks of having it teased. i hope it lives up to your expectations <3

Chapter 1: Issue 1: Off to the Races!

Melbourne, Australia
Tuesday 11 March 2025

 

The morning sun beats down over Kimi’s shoulders as he’s escorted through central Melbourne with George. They’re just under 72 hours until the first official session of his first Formula 1 campaign, and the atmosphere is already electric. Every step Kimi takes, whether it’s to a sponsor event, a media engagement, or just to his hotel at the end of the day, feels like a pilgrimage. He’s been working for this dream since he was a little boy and now he’s on the brink of realising it. Come Sunday afternoon he’ll have taken part in his first ever Grand Prix, and the forecast says it’s going to rain. Kimi can’t think of a single better start to his career. But he’s got a long way to go until Sunday, and he can’t let his mind wander from the moment. The task at hand today is simple enough: a photoshoot to promote some new merchandise. The team have booked the National Gallery of Victoria and they’re going along first thing to try and have as little impact on the museum’s day-to-day running as possible. 

 

Besides him, George is nursing a latte in a takeout cup. They’ve walked through the Botanic Gardens for a scenic start to the morning, away from the commuters and the busy roads of rush hour traffic, and now they’re along the river. Sunlight catches the ripples of the water, dancing on the current as if waving to him and him alone, and he smiles back playfully. The skyline of Melbourne stretches out before them, horns and radios become the soundtrack accompanying their walk. Palm trees wave back and forth in the breeze, and birds and bees do their very best to drown out humanity, whistling and flapping and buzzing around. The beeping of traffic signals gives Kimi and George a reason to pick up the pace, crossing before the light turns red again, and the river gives way to Linlithgow Avenue. The grassy slopes and full trees muffle the sound of the highway as they cut through the park towards the gallery. Bells ring out as cyclists push through the greenery, and the laughter of schoolchildren carries through the air. 

 

Kimi’s been to Melbourne before, once, for Formula 2 last year, but he’d barely had a moment to breathe. This year he’s determined to take it all in and really cherish the opportunity he’s been given. Really, how many other eighteen year olds can say they’re living their dream and travelling the world? It’s special, and he’s going to make sure he remembers this for the rest of his life. Not just this, but every moment that passes. Every second between now and the end of the season. He’s not going to get caught up and think what’s happening is ordinary, he’s going to appreciate it all for the extraordinary that it really is.

 

“We should have a picnic,” George says, breaking the silence, and Kimi and their social media assistant both look his way. “Sample traditional Australian foods. It would be a good bit,” he says.

 

“You just want to eat Tim-Tams, don’t you?” The assistant accuses, and George chuckles.

 

“Is that a crime?” 

 

Kimi is fairly certain the biggest learning curve that comes with Formula 1 is understanding the conversations around him. He’s pretty fluent in English, but he doesn’t always get the nuance of tones. Small talk is his weakness. Maybe he’ll get there eventually - he did with Ollie last year, after all - but for now he remains somewhere between perplexed and amused.

 

The crowds of people seem to grow as they get closer to the gallery, but then it is the other side of a main road. There’s half a dozen lanes of traffic, bike lanes and trams between them and their destination. It’s not a surprise that it’s gridlocked, even for pedestrians, but they’ve got an appointment to keep and Kimi sticks close to George as he expertly navigates his way through the sea of suits. They get to the front of the crowd, trams dinging and Oscar’s voice playing jarringly over the loudspeaker, and Kimi waits patiently. Eventually, the lights turn green for pedestrians and a beeping noise waves the mass of people across the road, but instead of meeting an empty pavement where they can stride towards the gallery they come to a halt behind yet another group of people. 

 

They’re unmoving, ogling, whispering and taking photos. Kimi doesn’t have the luxury George does of peering over their heads to see what’s going on, so he instead looks up to his teammate to take a cue from him.

 

“Oh blimey,” George says, positioning his hands on his hips.

 

“Eh?” Kimi asks. “What’s happened?”

 

“We’ve got a Banksy on our hands, come on,” he chuckles at his joke (that Kimi doesn’t understand) and starts to push through the crowd, the two following him close behind as they force their way further forward. Kimi finds himself muttering apologies over and over again as they make their way to the front, and once they’ve finally emerged from the near solid mass of people…

 

The dull grey walls of the gallery have been thoroughly defaced, as have the fountains that flank the front. Rather than the crystal clear water it’s muddy and black, with yellow paint thrown haphazardly across the ground. The walls have been painted more clearly, the same bright yellow being used to scream a message to the people of Melbourne.

 

‘CLIMATE EMERGENCY’

‘TIME IS UP’

‘1.5 IS OVER’

‘THE BEES ARE DYING’

‘THE SWARM GROWS’

 

The slogans are repeated, time and time and time again, and Kimi feels uncomfortable. He’s eighteen, he’s acutely aware of the state of the world he inhabits, he cares about the world, and he’s equally aware of the hypocrisy that comes with racing cars in a global sport. The dream that’s carried him for years feels shameful in that moment, and he can feel eyes on him, on George. Everyone in Melbourne knows about the Grand Prix this weekend, whether they want to or not, which means they recognise them both. 

 

Climate protests are nothing new, but Kimi can’t shake the feeling that whoever has done this has specifically targeted Formula 1. It makes sense. A tingle scuttles from his wrists, up his arms and down his spine at just how on edge it makes him feel.

 

“Boys, with me,” their assistant says, urging them both forward away from the crowd and into the lobby of the gallery. Kimi breathes a sigh of relief as soon as they’re out of the open and people stop looking at them, falling into step alongside his teammate as they’re escorted through the belly of the gallery. 

 

He doesn’t particularly pay attention to what’s going on around him. He overhears a brief conversation between their assistant, the Adidas photographer, and the gallery’s management - they should go, this is a crime scene with a police investigation, they’ll refund the deposit to the team and let them come back at half the price if they want to shoot at a later date - but a quick phone call to Toto means the assistant and the photographer win the argument. So they’re taken deeper in, quickly escorted through weird and wonderful exhibits, until they reach their destination.

 

It must be a coincidence that of all the exhibitions to be on show, the one Mercedes and Adidas had agreed would be the best to complement their new merchandise is the one to be targeted. The mirrors of the infinity room have been smashed, the same yellow paint outside has been recreated here on the shattered surfaces too. 

 

‘1.5 IS OVER.’

‘TIME IS UP.’

‘THE SWARM GROWS.’ 

 

Kimi spins on his heels as he takes it all in, and he brings his hands together so his thumbs can discreetly massage at his wrists to calm himself down. The room is meant to be somewhat disorienting, but the fractured reflections and the writing in all directions only makes it worse. There’s a tightness in his chest that he can’t escape from, and even though his mind is telling him to get out he keeps his feet firmly planted on the ground. Kimi takes short, sharp breaths: something that’s noticed rather quickly by his teammate. George nudges him gently, giving him a silent, questioning thumbs up. He nods, smiling weakly in return as he tries to ground himself and listen to the conversation between those in charge of the situation.

 

Any argument the gallery’s management puts up is quickly shot down by their assistant - another phone call made to Toto for backup - and after extensive chatter he even suggests that this could be a good thing! They can alter an existing design of an upcoming merchandise line based on the vandalism, donate a few cents to green causes so they can claim that every item bought contributes to efforts to combat climate change, and share the profits three ways - Mercedes, Adidas, and the gallery. It’ll help pay for some of the repairs the gallery needs, and that’s the end of the argument.

 

Kimi is sure the nerves he’s managed to push down are still evident on his face when the photographer starts to instruct both he and George on where to stand, amidst the hanging spheres with dots that look practically bioluminescent. If he were just visiting the exhibit, it would feel magical, but instead it just feels wrong. A quick glance to his teammate confirms that George is taking this entirely in his stride, posing without issue and getting endless praise from the photographer for it. He struggles more, constantly trying to fight the concern on his face and keep his posture relaxed, but everyone seems to just put that down to the fact that he’s a rookie driver approaching his first Grand Prix weekend, a teenager with more on his plate than most people will have in their entire lives. By the time they’re done, Kimi’s just keen to get away and find somewhere private to release the tension that’s built up inside of him.

 

He breaks away from the group quickly, feigning a phone call and agreeing to meet with them again later in the day for whatever else is on the programme for their pre-season promotional work, and jogs north along the street until he can cross the river. He hurries down the steps and down beneath Princes Bridge, leaning back against the cool stone and closing his eyes as he breathes deeply. The bustle of the busy city continues above him, but here there’s nothing other than the sound of the river flowing. People are above him, and around him, but not by him. They’re not looking at him… 

 

… And that makes this the perfect time to bend his fingers at the knuckle and feel the knots in his body dissipate and thin, white ropes shoot from the veins of his wrists. He sighs contently, body relaxing as he lets this happen for several long moments. Eventually he feels the sensation in his wrists return to equilibrium, there’s no tightness, no emptiness, and he loosens his muscles. Shaking out his hands and fingers, Kimi starts to walk east along the river until he finally comes to a stop at a bench in a quieter area - away from the main road. He sits quietly for a long moment, just focusing on his breathing, then he reaches into his pocket - not for his phone, but for a gold little charm in the shape of an old fashioned car.

 

Kimi sighs as he finds it, taking it out of his pocket and placing it in his palm to turn it over and run his fingers back and forth over the chain. It’s comforting, and he needs comfort right now. His grandfather’s old lucky charm, restored and gifted to him by his father after signing his Mercedes contract, never leaves his side. This week, more than ever, he can’t lose track of it. Maybe he’s abusing its powers - maybe it’ll let him down this weekend if he relies on it so heavily now - but holding it is enough to bring him back from the edge of a panic attack over what’s just unfolded. The vandalism and the accidental webbing are equal causes for concern, but he can’t let it get to him.

 

The sensible part of Kimi’s brain knows he needs to call Sergi and report this, just in case it happens again over the weekend and he needs someone that can help him, but for now he just wants to catch his breath. He’s got an awfully long few days ahead of him, the last thing he needs is to be on edge to the point that this is revealed. 

 

There’s enough scrutiny on him as it is, there doesn’t need to be more. 

 

+ + +

 

Melbourne, Australia
Sunday 16 March 2025

 

“Nice work, Kimi, that was a great drive.”

 

Bono’s voice over the radio cuts through the immense emotions Kimi is feeling as he drives carefully around the track, not wanting the embarrassment of binning it on the in-lap after a monumental race. From a dismal P16 to brushing the podium, it’s given him a huge boost of confidence for his season - desperately needed after the woes of a broken floor during Qualifying yesterday. 

 

“Kimi, first one. Really, really good. Really, really good - what a result.”

 

Toto’s voice, above all, fills him with pride. It’s not that Bono’s praise isn’t nice, it’s just that Bono is new. It’s their first time really working together as driver and engineer (the months of practice aren’t quite the same as the real thing), but Toto’s been there since he was a kid. He’s seen him through his successes, through his failures, the highs and lows of the junior formulae, and it’s all paid off. He’s proven to the world that the controversial decision to put him in the car was the right one, he’s brought home good points for the team, but most importantly he’s made Toto proud. 

 

He makes it back to the pits and turns his car off as Bono instructs him to, climbing out to be weighed before he goes to see his team. He just about manages to hand over his helmet to his father before he’s being ushered towards the podium to celebrate George’s P3. The atmosphere is incredible, and the rain does nothing to dampen the team’s spirits as they watch George receive his trophy. Even Kimi doesn’t feel bad. If he’d qualified better, maybe he could’ve been the one standing up there and looking down on the crowd, sure. But Maggie is in front of him, his parents are beside him - his mother chatting to Toto until he turns her around - and he’s happy. He’s pleased with his performance, there’s brilliant momentum to push forwards, and with a car that looks more competitive than anyone really expected it to be there’s going to be real opportunities to prove himself during the season. It won’t just be a case of trying to one-up George for the year, there’ll be times when he might be able to lead the pack, times when he might be able to win. 

 

Once the champagne is sprayed and George has taken his photo with Lando and Max, the team starts to wander back to the garage. The fun is over, it’s time to get back to work. Everything needs to be packed down and shipped to China before the sun sets, data needs to be analysed so Kimi can get a better understanding of how his tyre management went and where he lost time to others, if he wants to be the best of the bunch he can’t just live on the high of a good race forever.

 

“Kimi!” 

 

Walking back to the garage with his family, Kimi somehow misses his trainer entirely. Until his name is being shouted and he turns around, a grin on his face.

 

“Oh, Sergi!” He beams, reaching for his hand to shake. 

 

The shake quickly becomes a side-on hug as his trainer congratulates him, patting him on the back and guiding him out of the rain. And rather than immediately getting to work, he finds himself passed from person to person as they embrace and congratulate him. He swears he’s going to have a dozen hand shaped bruises littered across his back and shoulders tomorrow morning, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Marco’s hug is the one most special to him, though. It’s one thing to impress the man that’s like a father to you, but knowing he’s made his father proud - particularly after yesterday’s disappointment - is the most important feeling.

 

“Well done, Kimi,” his father praises him. 

 

He presses his head against his shoulder and closes his eyes, relishing in the moment. His embrace is an anchor, even as his hands move from his side to instead squeeze his cheeks whilst he kisses his forehead. Kimi laughs, red in the face from the pressure of his affection, before the moment is broken by his mother splitting the two apart.

 

“Andrea, topolino!” She beams, her arms pulling him into a much softer embrace.

 

“Mamma,” he replies gently, melting into her arms. 

 

His father is proud, and that pride is addicting, but his mother’s love has never been - and will never be - conditional. Kimi understands his father now that he’s older, understands that he wouldn’t be half the driver (or half the person) he is today without his tough love in his formative years, but understanding his mother is something he’s never had to fight to do. She’s just loved him, through thick and thin, through every scraped knee and broken bone. When his father has shouted at him because his lap times are inconsistent, his mother has wiped away his tears and snuck him ice cream. When there’s been arguments about poor qualifying, his mother has rocked him to sleep and insisted he’s never too big for a cuddle and a lullaby.

 

Both of them love him, and both of them have molded him into who he is now. 

 

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispers to him. 

 

For Veronica, it’s never been about pushing her son to be the best. It’s about wincing whenever there’s a yellow flag and praying it isn’t him. It’s about crying for days on end in the paddock after his Practice session in Monza. It’s about wanting him safe and sound and in one piece. Kimi can’t imagine what it’s like to be the parent of a race driver, but the way that his mother holds him is enough for him to know it can’t be easy.

 

“Andy!” 

 

The last voice to chime in is his sister, and Kimi breaks the embrace with his mother - pressing a quick kiss to her cheek for safe measure - to bend down and pick her up. She pushes her bright pink ear defenders from her head to her neck before wrapping her arms tightly around him, and Kimi positions her as comfortably as he can.

 

“Tesoro,” he beams. “Did you have fun, eh?”

 

“You’re so fast! Will you win next time?” 

 

Kimi laughs, pulling back to look at her. Maggie is the picture of childhood innocence, a sparkle in her eyes that doesn’t fade and a hope that can stand the test of time. Even after Qualifying yesterday, she was the only one to have faith that he’d score a point. He might not have achieved the podium he’d tried to manifest for her, but he was pretty damn close.

 

“Next time,” he promises, touching her nose with the tip of his finger to make her giggle. 

 

He carries her even as he goes to look at the data with Bono, not quite ready to put her down just yet. He waits until she’s trying to wriggle herself out of his grasp to lower her to the ground, watching as she runs back to their parents to pester their mother for a snack, of the iPad, or to head back to the hotel. As the trio walk off and let Kimi get back to work, his debrief is interrupted by someone else keen to see him.

 

Toto’s arms are strong and comforting, and Kimi feels at home in them. A hand comes to his hair and ruffles it affectionately, before the two part and Kimi smiles up at him. He’s younger than Toto’s oldest children, and having known the man since he was a child himself he’s practically an extension of his family. He looks to him with the same eyes he looks to his own father with, and he sees the same emotion returned as that Marco bestowed upon him.

 

His shoulder is squeezed when they separate, and Toto leaves Kimi in the capable hands of Bono. He’s got to see the Stewards in a few minutes, needs to fight to overturn the unsafe release penalty that’ll pop him back to P4, and he needs all the supporting data he can get to make sure it sticks. As Bono speaks to him, Kimi throws an arm around his shoulder whilst he tugs at the lobe of his own ear, tongue poking out just a little in concentration.

 

The anxieties of earlier in the week - both from the protest, and from the looming challenge of his first weekend racing in Formula 1 - have been put well and truly to bed. 

 

It’s game on, now. Kimi’s ready to go.

 

+ + +

 

Shanghai, China
Thursday 20 March 2025

 

Kimi’s never been to China before. Neither has his friend, and former teammate, Oliver Bearman. Visiting a country as Formula 1 drivers rarely means getting to fully experience a country. Their jobs come first, and apart from a few days of lead-in when there’s a need to adjust to a new time zone they’re usually in and out in a handful of days. Arrive on a Wednesday afternoon, leave on a Sunday night - that’s the life of a driver. Even if they don’t have the opportunity to explore the vast expanse of China - from the Great Wall, to the Forbidden Palace, to the deserts and mountains and jungles in the more remote western reaches of the country, to the cities that line the east with grand skylines and booming economies - they manage to see something. 

 

That something, as a reward for finishing all the duties and briefings their teams have burdened them with over the last few days, is dinner. Together. The noodle restaurant on the Huangpu River is small, and no one’s looking at them as they eat - something that Kimi finds truly relieving. The eyes are the one thing about Formula 1 he didn’t see coming, how being observed and perceived is now a constant feature of his life. He knew it would happen on track, that everything he did from the moment he arrived in the paddock to the moment he left would be scrutinised under a microscope, but it’s different when it happens in his personal life. Privacy is rare, and a moment alone with a friend where they really aren’t being watched is rarer still.

 

“Your cars got here, then?” Ollie asks him, and Kimi smiles and laughs softly.

 

“In the end,” he agrees. “I was… Mate I was so worried,” he admits. “I thought I wasn’t going to get a practice session! It’s crazy, eh?”

 

“At least we have a week off before Japan,” Ollie smiles. 

 

Kimi brings a soup spoon to his mouth as he watches Ollie talk, eyes sparkling under the bright restaurant lights. Moments like this are nice, a reminder of their Formula 2 days. There was always less to do, more time to just spend as themselves. Of course they’d analyse data like crazy, watch Formula 1 sessions and try to learn as much as possible from their academies and future employers, but there were times when they could just sit and talk without consequence. Kimi memorised the freckles on Ollie’s face like they were as important as his lap times. He can picture them now, when he can’t fall asleep at night.

 

Some people count sheep. He thinks about the constellation that litters Ollie’s face and counts stars.

 

“I’m going back to the factory for a few days, but then I’m flying out to Japan early. Did you know they have a Teddy Bear museum? It’s in this town called… Ito? Or Izu? I don’t remember, but I’m going with my social media team. You should come!” 

 

Kimi’s so busy just staring at Ollie that he doesn’t even realise the invitation that’s been extended to him, nodding - hoping that he hasn’t been asked a question - and slurping up some noodles. There’s a nice kick to them, the spice lingering in the roof of his mouth. It numbs his lips ever so slightly, which gives him a reason to look at Ollie’s lips, and he realises they’re moving again.

 

“Will you?” Ollie asks.

 

“Eh?”

 

“Come? Will you come with me?”

 

There’s a moment where Kimi’s brain truly short circuits. Ollie wants him to what?! There must be additional context, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, maybe he is… But maybe he’s wrong… 

 

After several moments of scrambling, brain cells working in overtime to decode this very clearly secret message, he recalls what Ollie said mere moments ago. Teddy Bear Museum. In his defence, if Ollie wants him to listen he shouldn’t be so beautiful. Eventually he composes himself, and he gives a soft ‘oh’ of understanding before he shakes his head. 

 

Act natural.

 

“I can’t. I’ve got school, the factory, and then I’m flying out with the team,” he explains, putting down his spoon for the sake of gesturing to really hammer his points home. “I’ve seen the schedule, it’s awful. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep! There’s so much to do.” 

 

Ollie nods, and for a moment Kimi wonders if there’s a flash of disappointment on his face. If there is, it doesn’t linger.

 

“I’ll bring you a teddy then, a souvenir,” he offers with a bright smile. 

 

Kimi blames the feeling in his stomach on the food, and decides that he’s done eating for the night. Ollie finishes his food then excuses himself to the bathroom, and Kimi uses that as an opportunity to foot the bill. Except Ollie doesn’t go to the bathroom, Ollie walks up to the counter to pay for their food. He returns with a smug look on his face, and Kimi bites his tongue. He wants to make a joke about paying for the next date, but it feels risky. Maybe he’ll say something later in the season when he’s more settled, when he’s got friends on the grid who aren’t Ollie, so if he ruins everything with a stupid comment he’s not going to be alone for the next few months.

 

They gather up their things and leave the restaurant. It’ll be time to go back to their hotel soon, and the next time they’ll see each other they’ll be on track preparing for their first outing at the Shanghai International Circuit, but neither of them are in a hurry to head back.

 

Despite the unseasonably warm temperatures in the city, it’s a pleasantly cool evening. There’s a gentle breeze that’s just cold enough to make Kimi shiver, but it’s a welcome reprieve after the day. Kimi is more than happy to just meander through the streets with Ollie by his side, talking about everything and nothing. He wants to prolong the evening as much as he can, and Ollie - it seems - is of the same opinion. They bump elbows as they walk and share stories of their chaotic opening weekend, putting off calling a taxi to take them back as long as they can. 

 

As they laugh, Kimi looks across the river at the iconic skyline of Shanghai. The towering skyscrapers make Kimi feel small, and he likes that. The feeling of being inconsequential and meaningless is a truly freeing experience. The lights are striking, the whole city lit up like the universe itself, with pinks and blues and yellows igniting the sky. It’s like staring upon nebulae, like the ashes of a dying star have been scattered out in front of him and he’s about to witness the birth of a new sun, a planetary system not too dissimilar from their own. He wants to reach over and take Ollie’s hand to bask in the wonder of human creation for a little, but he’s got no such opportunity. 

 

Not when Ollie’s speaking with some kind of urgency.

 

“What’s going on?” He says, pointing towards the top of the Oriental Pearl tower. 

 

Kimi follows Ollie’s finger, tilting his head up, and he squints to see what it is he’s looking at. It takes a moment, but eventually he spots exactly what he’s talking about. Silhouetted by the bright lights near the top of the tower is a figure. A person.

 

His wrists tingle uncomfortably.

 

“We should call someone,” Ollie says immediately, and Kimi - to some extent - agrees. 

 

If he’s wrong, if this person is just going to throw themselves off the tower, then there’s nothing that they can do about it. Even if he isn’t wrong, there’s nothing they can do from this far away either. He hopes he’s wrong, but he can’t deny how he feels, he can’t deny how similar the tingling in his wrist is to the feeling in Australia. The pressure, the tightness, the discomfort.

 

The few other people around them have now noticed something’s amiss too, and everyone has stopped walking to stare. Some are taking out their phones to record. Kimi can see the disgust on Ollie’s face at the lack of empathy. Ollie’s mistake is the assumption that this person is going to jump. Kimi… Kimi thinks otherwise.

 

And that thought process is confirmed when there’s a bright orange glow around the figure, a glow that starts raining down on the streets below the tower. There’s screams, there’s smoke, and a minute there’s sirens too. Distant at first, but quickly closing in.

 

“Come on,” Kimi whispers to Ollie, desperate to get away. 

 

His stomach is twisting with dread and he needs to be somewhere private before he can’t keep himself in check anymore and everyone sees. His wrist is practically throbbing and Kimi knows it’s only a matter of time before he needs his release. And beyond that, he wants to make sure that Ollie is okay. This is a direct escalation. This isn’t vandalism, this is something that could potentially cause harm. Ollie is his… Friend. And he won’t let his best friend be hurt by a man that seems to be following them.

 

No. No one is following them. It’s a coincidence. 

 

“I’ve called us a car, we’re going,” he explains, putting a hand on his friend’s arm and guiding him to the road as he slips his phone back into his pocket. 

 

“But Kimi–”

 

“We’re going,” he says firmly, leading Ollie away. 

 

This isn’t up for discussion, no matter how much his friend is keen for it to be. Even as it makes their car ride back to the hotel as awkward as possible, Kimi hardly notices. All he can feel is the web in his veins tightening its noose around him. He feels restrained, like he can’t quite breathe properly, and if Ollie wasn’t trying so hard to figure out what had just happened he’d probably be able to see how uncomfortable Kimi is. That would be nothing short of a disaster.

 

So Kimi’s relieved when they get back to the hotel and he can escape to his room, locking the door shut and angling his fingers and wrists to grab a small table and drag it across the room. No one’s getting in now, he’s confident of that, so he can lie down on the bed and yell into a pillow. It’s not enough to just do that, of course. His web needs releasing again, like it did in Australia, and he hates the dots that connect in his head. 

 

Just a coincidence, he tells himself. Nothing to read into, he tries to convince his brain. You’re overthinking things, he promises. 

 

He’s going over and over the mantras, working to calm himself down, when his phone vibrates and the screen lights up - a text from Ollie. Nothing unusual in itself after they’ve had dinner together. When he opens up the message, it’s a screen recording of a video on social media. Someone closer to the tower has filmed it, and the video of the incident has made its way from Weibo to western platforms. Ollie’s clearly recorded it in case it’s taken down, and Kimi sincerely wishes he hadn’t. The work trying to convince himself that this is a coincidence is undone the moment he clicks play on the video.

 

Raining down on the street below is charred but not entirely destroyed Mercedes merchandise. The merchandise they’d designed to fit with the vandalised gallery in Australia. The merchandise paying lip service to the climate. The merchandise mocking the motivations of whoever was responsible for the graffiti in Melbourne.

 

Kimi throws his phone across the room - catching it in web before it hits and ground and smashes - and he groans into his pillow. Trying to convince himself that this is anything other than a specific, targeted message is going to be impossible now. He lets his body relax, lets his wrists release the built up web, and tries his best to get a good night of sleep. He’s got one practice session tomorrow before Sprint Qualifying, he can’t let himself be distracted by things that he can’t control…

 

+ + + 

 

Shanghai, China
Friday 21 March 2025

 

P7 is, frankly, shit. The whole Sprint Qualifying session was messy and it’s just not good enough. People are, of course, giving him the benefit of doubt. Everyone in the media is pointing out that it’s his first time at the track, that he’s got to be given time to adapt and he is still in a position to score points tomorrow, and his team are trying desperately to shout about his successes. Despite their diligent efforts, every piece of media they film with him has him on the brink of tears. It’s only his second weekend in Formula 1 but he’s already exhausted, and he’s starting to question whether or not he really belongs. Last weekend was a rollercoaster of ups and downs, but it ended on a high. The weekend has barely begun, but Kimi’s struggling to find a high note to get him through the evening.

 

And that’s not it. He can’t stop his mind from wandering to last night - something that isn’t really helped when Ollie keeps texting him screenshots and videos of how the incident unfolded, the fight with the police, the blurry photos of the figure in a mask and an outfit, the way the delinquent escaped. Instead of closing his eyes and thinking of Ollie’s beautiful cheekbones he’s closing his eyes and seeing fire falling from the sky. It rattles him to his core. 

 

Racing drivers have to time their blinks perfectly. A blink can last up to four tenths of a second, and in the world of Formula 1 that’s a lifetime. It’s the difference between P1 and P7. It feels just as long now. Every time he blinks, he’s standing at the foot of that tower. He’s alone. There’s no crowd of people, there’s no bright lights, no traffic, no sirens, it’s just him and fire raining down around him. Smouldering fragments of fabric are caught on the wind and swirl around him, encircling him in a prison of raining fire. Stepping in any direction would burn him, all he can do is look up.

 

The image of the man in the video is blurry, so he’s blurry in his mind too. He can make out the rough shape of him, he can just about identify something yellow, but that’s all. 

 

Four tenths of a second pass, and Kimi’s back in a small office with Bono at his side, their shoulders brushing as he leans over and points at some major time losses to George in Turns 9 and 10. He nods, forcing himself to pay attention, scribbling things down in his notebook. The page is full of notes with doodles in the margins: circles, squares, and hearts with a totally subtle OB + AKA that Kimi knows Bono is only pretending he hasn’t noticed.

 

As soon as the debrief is done and he and George are dismissed for the evening, Kimi backs up his notebook into his bag and waves the team goodbye. His hands plunge into his pockets, his phone in his right and charm in the left. He runs his thumb back and forth over the little metal car, hoping against all the odds that it’ll rub off on him for the remainder of the weekend. That’s not his focus right now, though. His focus is hunting down his trainer.

 

When he spots Sergi in the back of the garage, deep in conversation with one of the engineers, he acts with all the impulsiveness of an eighteen year old boy. This is urgent, anyway. Way more important than whatever they’re talking about. He grabs him by the arm and pulls him away, Sergi protesting minimally as he drags him through the garage desperately, looking for somewhere secret the two can talk.

 

In the end, that ‘somewhere secret’ is a dark storage cupboard. He pushes Sergi in - almost forcing his face into a mop head - then steps after him, finally slamming the door shut and locking it tight. It’s a testament to their relationship that Sergi doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at the hostage situation he finds himself in, and Kimi just blurts out the words he should’ve said so much sooner.

 

“Someone is following us,” he says simply. “They were in Australia, and now they’re here.”

 

“A fan?” Sergi assumes.

 

Kimi can see his logic. He’s eighteen, thrust into the limelight with fame and money and a gorgeous side profile. He wishes the worst of his worries were a stalker, but this gradually escalating madman won’t leave his mind and he needs… He’s not sure what he needs. Protection? Reassurance? Just someone to talk to? Sergi knows him, probably better than he knows himself, so maybe telling him will give him the answers he’s looking for.

 

“More like a protester,” he corrects. “But it’s more than that. There’re photos from last night. Here, eh? Look!”

 

He takes his phone out to show Sergi everything Ollie has sent him over the last twelve hours. The videos, the pictures, every blurry pixelated piece of media he’s managed to find about the figure they saw at the top of the tower. Kimi lets Sergi take his time to examine it all, his trainer scrolling slowly through their texts. 

 

“A regular protester wouldn’t have been able to climb that tower with boxes of our merchandise,” he admits as he keeps going. “A regular protester wouldn’t make me… Feel things.”

 

That does elicit a reaction from his trainer, with Sergi’s eyes widening and his face then taking on a more concerned expression. 

 

“Kimi…”

 

“It started in Australia,” he says, pocketing his phone again as he starts to gesticulate - an impressive feat in such a small space. “After the photoshoot. The moment I saw everything I knew something was wrong. And now that it’s happened again here, my hotel room is a mess. I had to leave a sign to tell housekeeping not to enter,” he explains. “You said it years ago, it’s like a whole extra sense. I have to trust it.”

 

Sergi nods. 

 

“And it’s telling you–”

 

“-- It’s telling me that this is something bigger,” he admits, and Sergi sighs softly. 

 

Kimi understands. Sergi is the only one who’s ever known, and the burden on his trainer’s shoulders to keep that secret is a heavy one. It had been easier before, but now they’re in the one situation that neither of them ever wanted to come to fruition. Now there’s danger. The pinky promise they made when Kimi was thirteen and developing in ways that his health teachers didn’t cover in the lessons on puberty is finally coming into play, and even after so much time has passed he knows Sergi won’t break it.

 

“My job is to keep you safe, Kimi,” he reminds. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

 

“Thank you,” he whispers, relief flooding through his veins. 

 

He knows Sergi means that, and he’ll never be able to repay him. Sergi has never made a promise he can’t keep in the time that he’s known him. Whether it’s been about getting him back to racing after surgery for his broken wrist, or helping to pick him up after Monza last year, Sergi is the most trustworthy man he knows. If his trainer says he’s going to be safe, then Kimi knows with complete certainty that he’ll be safe.

 

They duck out of the supply cupboard quietly - Kimi first, then Sergi a few moments later as if to avoid giving any passers by the impression that they were up to no good. There’s no one around, but somehow Kimi barely makes it five steps before his father appears from a doorway and grabs him by the shoulders, an arm around him comfortingly to cheer him up about the bad day. 

 

At least sharing his concerns about the protester following them with Sergi might put his mind at ease so that he can focus on racing for the rest of the weekend. Maybe he’ll do a bit better now because of it. 

 

+ + +

 

Suzuka, Japan
Saturday 05 April 2025

 

A weekend off has given Kimi some time to breathe, even if that ‘time off’ has been filled with school work and time at the factory. He’s still tired, but that’s most because he’s flown from England to Japan and will be flying to Bahrain in a little over twenty four hours. The jet lag, and soon the reverse jet lag, feels like the most difficult part of his first ever triple header. In a fortnight’s time he might have a different answer, but right now this is the worst bit.

 

In the gap between the final Practice session and Qualifying, Kimi and the other rookies are meeting with Sebastian Vettel to hear about his work on sustainability in motorsports. And Kimi… He’s trying! He’s really, really trying to listen! But he’s hungry, and his brain is full of data, and he can’t stop fidgeting with the little charm in his pocket. He’s been slowly building up through the sessions over the weekend and Qualifying is going to be the thing that proves if he paid any attention at all. He needs to show the team that he’s improving, even this early in the season, or those initial feelings about him and his potential will go down the drain in an instant.

 

Beside him is Ollie, halfway through a salad and paying even less attention to Sebastian’s words. He would’ve expected him to be listening, given how much he idolises Sebastian (and brings up the fact that he text him before Jeddah last year at every possible opportunity), but then he considers the fact that this is the only chance they’ll have to eat before dinner tonight and Ollie seems to be perpetually growing. It’s seriously uncalled for. He’s tall enough already! Kimi’s going to need a step stool even in his daydreams.

 

Not that he has daydreams about Ollie or anything.

 

“I would have taken you all out to see the insect hotels,” Sebastian says, and Kimi looks back at him. “But we’re low on time. You’ve only been released to me for twenty minutes.”

 

It shows. If Kimi looks down the line of them he can see that Gabriel is on his phone, and that Jack and Isack are more interested in whispering to each other. It’s not that they’re trying to be disrespectful, it’s just that their schedules are packed and something like this, where there’s no media present and their lunch break has been shortened to accommodate it, is the only time they have to be themselves.

 

Kimi makes an effort, sitting up a little bit straighter and smiling at Sebastian encouragingly when they make eye contact. But the session seems to be over and they’re dismissed, and Kimi can’t help but feel a little bit guilty. He’s trying to do a good thing, but the teams have really given Sebastian the worst time to try and do it. On Thursday they would’ve all been on their best behaviour and paid perfect attention.

 

Gabriel, Isack and Jack are quick to leave once they’re told they’re free, but Ollie lingers even after Sebastian himself is gone. Kimi’s mind goes through a thousand different possible scenarios before he finally manages to let go of his expectations and just acknowledge his friend in a totally normal manner.

 

“Hi, mate,” he says, and inwardly cringes.

 

Mate?! That’s the best he can come up with?!

 

“Hi,” Ollie replies quietly, one hand clumsily scratching the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen you all weekend.”

 

“Mercedes have been keeping me busy,” he shrugs. “And I have a lot of homework, eh. I mean a lot of homework.”

 

He pulls his bag onto his shoulder and nods his head, gesturing for Ollie to walk and talk with him. He’ll need to be back in the garage in a few minutes, he can’t get side-tracked chatting to Ollie (even if there’s nothing he’d like more). As he leaves the room, Ollie walks beside him, and Kimi quickens his steps to keep up with Ollie’s longer strides.

 

“I got you something,” he starts, and Kimi looks at his friend. “Like I promised. From the Teddy Bear museum.”

 

“You did?” Kimi grins. 

 

“Yeah. I mean it’s not much, it’s nothing special, it’s not even a teddy bear. I mean…” He’s stumbling over his words, and Kimi tries desperately to fight against the urge to read into that. “There were so many teddy bears to pick from, and I didn’t know which you’d like o-or if you’d even like them! I know you have some, you’ve got Toto Bear–”

 

Kimi grimaces, that stupid Drive to Survive clip is going to haunt him forever.

 

“- But I didn’t just want to assume so… Here.”

 

Ollie pulls his hand from his pocket and reveals a little keyring with a teddy bear charm attached to it. He’s red in the face and looks like he’s having some kind of distressing bowel movement with how his face is contorted, and it only makes Kimi smile more as he gasps and reaches to take the gift from the palm of his hand. He doesn’t think about the way that his fingers touch Ollie’s skin, how warm and soft it is, how nice it would feel for their palms to press together… No. He doesn’t think about that at all. He just looks at the gift he’s been given and turns it over in his fingers.

 

“Ollie, mate, this is brilliant!” He exclaims.

 

“You’re just saying that…”

 

“No, no I really mean it. Look, it goes perfectly with this, eh?” He says, digging into his pocket to take out his other good luck charm. “And with the keyring, I can put them both together. Double good luck.”

 

Ollie’s expression seems to soften, but the colour of his cheeks intensifies.

 

“I’m glad you like it.”

 

“Like it? Mate, I love it!”

 

When Kimi looks back up from his hands, where he’s managed to link the two charms onto the same keyring, he thinks that Ollie might be about to explode in front of him.

 

“Alright, well, good luck with Qualifying later,” Ollie says quickly.

 

Kimi wants to wish him the same in return, or say anything else, but the conversation has clearly come to an end as Ollie jogs away as quickly as his legs will carry him. He looks back down at the two charms - the beautifully restored old car and the brand new teddy bear. It fills his heart with love. 

 

He’s admiring them both carefully, fingers tracing over the contours of the charms, when he feels a hand clasp his shoulder and squeeze tightly.

 

“Kimi, come on, Sergi’s looking for you,” his father says. “Time to warm up, you’re going to do brilliantly, eh?” 

 

And Kimi nods, pushing the charms back into his pocket and keeping his hand there to play with them as they walk back to Mercedes and his mind turns back to racing. With one more opportunity to break the record for youngest race winner he’s going to need every bit of luck he can get.

 

+ + +

Suzuka, Japan
Sunday 06 April 2025

 

P6 isn’t anywhere near perfect, but it’s still his best Qualifying position to date and he’s putting it down to the fact that he’s got double the luck now. Hopefully he can gain a couple of positions today - a win isn’t going to be easy, but it’s his last chance, he’s determined to make it and he feels like he can do it.

 

The best part of the weekend so far isn’t the fact that he’s qualified just over two tenths behind his teammate, it’s the fact that he’s no longer being haunted by the man from before. Whoever he was, and whatever it is he wanted, the police must’ve caught up to him and apprehended him in Shanghai. It’d been impossible to keep the nerves around him at bay until now, but it’s race day and nothing has happened. When he woke up this morning and scrolled through social media there was nothing, when he checked the news there was nothing. He’s finally free from this nightmare, and can just focus on racing and schooling. Which, frankly, is more than he can handle anyway. 

 

He’s buzzing with excitement for the race - Suzuka has been a fantastic circuit all weekend and there’s a chance of rain this afternoon - the fact that nothing is going to distract him from performing at his peak is going to make it even better. Without the strange man following him on his mind, it only makes him feel more confident that he can, in fact, win.

 

He can visualise it. Kimi can see himself on the podium, hear the Italian anthem playing out for the crowd, people cheering his name as he finally lives up to the lofty expectations Toto placed on his shoulders a year ago by calling him the next Max Verstappen. Manifestation, he told Bono when he first met him. It’s important to me. 

 

His breakfast - strawberry yoghurt and granola with red berries, and salmon and scrambled egg on a bagel - is important to him too, and it’s familiar and grounding. He has it before every race, it helps him to get into the right frame of mind to have a routine this solid. 

 

The hotel dining room is filled with faces he recognises, mechanics and engineers from all different teams. There’s the Aston Martin bunch laughing together at a table, some Haas team members in discussion with guys in Williams kit, McLaren and Ferrari at the buffet. The sport, as much as it’s about competition and rivalries, is like a family. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone supports everyone. Kimi’s biological family are staying at a different hotel - a safety protocol for their sake - so he looks around the tables and searches for someone to sit and chat with. 

 

He won’t admit to beelining straight for the man in the Haas outfit, and more than that he won’t admit to the disappointment when he grabs the chair and sits down only to realise it’s Esteban. No offense to Esteban, of course, he’d just much rather be staring at Ollie’s face.

 

It’s useful anyway. Kimi’s making a conscious effort to try and be on good terms with as many drivers as possible - so that when the inevitable crashes happen things aren’t awkward off track - but Esteban is intent on making that difficult this morning. Not deliberately, mind. He’s not doing anything wrong. It’s just that Kimi was expecting a peaceful breakfast with some polite small talk and Esteban is fixated on talking about the disappearance of the mysterious man. The one he’d just stopped thinking about. 

 

“He’s like a real life supervillain!” He says excitedly - something he should categorically not be excited about. 

 

But Kimi knows Esteban’s reputation, Ollie’s texted him several times about how long-haul flights have become forced movie marathons as his teammate attempts to indoctrinate him into the world of Marvel movies. Superheroes and supervillains are Esteban’s bread and butter. 

 

It makes Kimi squirm.

 

“Seriously, he’s got the costume, the mask, the whole part! The yellow motifs, the black stripes, I was so hoping he’d come to Japan too.”

 

It’s then that Kimi realises just how deep Esteban is in this. All that’s been officially seen of the man is blurry, but in the absence of information rumours can spread like wildfire. There’s been artist renditions of what the man might really look like, some have turned to asking various generative AI platforms to create an image of what might be behind those few pixels they have, and it’s spiralled from there. Some features remain consistent - the colours, mostly - but there’s a thousand different interpretations of the costume and mask that Esteban is referring to. 

 

Kimi hopes, desperately, that this comic book villain has been squashed from existence before the world gets the chance to find out who’s most correct. He doesn’t say that though, not when Esteban’s clearly of a very different opinion.

 

“Hoping?” Kimi asks to keep the conversation alive, and Esteban nods.

 

“If there’s a super villain, then there has to be a super hero too. It’s just how these things work! And if there’s a superhero, then I want a selfie, an autograph!”

 

Kimi laughs a little, noticing out of the corner of his eye that some of the team staff are starting to filter out of the dining room. He glances at his watch, compelled to do so for some reason, and furrows his brow: it’s earlier than he would’ve expected their call time to be. It’s not like it’s just one or two trying to beat the traffic, once the floodgates have opened it’s like a mass exodus. Teams are leaving in unison - Ferrari first, McLaren and Williams seeming to get the call next - until the dining room is practically empty save for a few stragglers and the drivers themselves. Max and George are bickering at another table, and Carlos, Charles, Lewis and Ollie are laughing over a video that Ollie’s showing them on his phone. Liam and Jack are chatting together, and Nico is busy being bothered by Gabriel.

 

To everyone else, nothing is amiss. Maybe it’s weird that the mechanics have all suddenly up and left, but no one is particularly concerned. 

 

Kimi’s wrist tingles. 

 

Esteban is oblivious to it all, just like everyone else. He’s now moved on to talking about fictional heroes and villains but Kimi simply can’t let the feeling go unrecognised. Something is wrong, very wrong, and he knows it.

 

“Sorry, Esteban,” he says, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Toto is calling me, I have to go. Speak to you later,” he excuses, putting his phone to his ear as he runs out of the dining room. 

 

As soon as he’s made it through the door, the device is back in his hands and he’s searching social media and news outlets for information - because something significant has happened and surely if the mechanics know about it, and he knows about it, the media will too. 

 

What’s happening? Why does he feel dread pooling in his stomach? Why are his powers itching to be used? 

 

It doesn’t take long to find out exactly what’s going on - about as long as it takes him to get from the dining room to the elevator - but he can’t bring himself to believe the contents of the articles he’s finding online. Even when official FIA documents are published to address the situation, he doesn’t want to believe it. 

 

He grabs his backpack from his room and leaves the hotel in a hurry, racing to the paddock to investigate with his own eyes. It’s a mercifully short drive to the track, and he’s pushing past fans and the world media in record time as he scans in and runs to the pit lane. His feet hit the ground and he ignores people calling his name in favour of ducking his head and making it to the Mercedes garages faster. There’s so much happening that it’s almost impossible to deny reality anymore, but he still tries his best. He hasn’t seen the cars yet, it could all be a lie still!

 

When he comes to a halt at the back of the garage, there’s no way he can convince himself of that anymore.

 

Both cars are in pieces, FIA representatives watching as mechanics rush against a time crunch to rebuild the vehicles. His heart sinks, his stomach churns, and he pinches his wrists tightly to keep himself from doing anything stupid. Kimi squeezes through the mass of people working to fix the destroyed cars, walking to the front of the garage and stepping out into the pit lane to observe the hive of activity along its entire length. 

 

Every single garage is busy with personnel trying desperately to fix their cars before the race. 

 

It’s overwhelming, and Kimi feels a tightness not just in his wrists, but in his chest. He can’t breathe. This man was supposed to be gone. 

 

The FIA have already delayed the start an hour in light of the unprecedented situation. Twenty cars, all damaged overnight, is something no team could’ve foreseen. No team could’ve done anything to prevent it from happening. The Stewards have been kind to the crews for how much work they have to do to be ready for lights out and once the hard work is done, they’ll all be eternally grateful for that extra hour. 

 

As a driver, Kimi can’t exactly help with this sort of thing. He wouldn’t know how to rebuild his car, he’d probably cause more problems than solutions, and so instead he takes time to look around at the rest of the damage. He really shouldn’t, but curiosity is getting the better of him even as he feels a pit of dread grow in his stomach. Because it’s not just the cars, it’s the facilities too. 

 

The vandalism has returned. The yellow paint, the slogans about 1.5c and bees and swarms. Every race it’s escalating, taking a step up, and Kimi shoves his hands in his pockets when he feels like he can’t control himself anymore. A little bit of web escapes, just enough to curb the knot in his stomach, and he breathes heavily as he delves back into the garage in search of his trainer. 

 

Sergi’s looking for him too, and when the pair of them meet he understands the look on his face in an instant. Kimi’s taken to his driver room and sat down, firm hands on his shoulders, fingers rubbing back and forth over his shirt to pull him out of the spiral he’s teetering on the edge of. After a few moments he manages to find Sergi’s eyes, and his trainer squeezes him.

 

“What’s going on… It has nothing to do with you.”

 

Kimi doubts that, but he says nothing. He doesn’t have to, Sergi can see the look on his face.

 

“It’s not targeted at you. Every car was damaged, clearly it’s about the sport. So what we’re going to do is keep you safe, keep you away from this situation, and you and I are going to get the web problem under control,” he explains. 

 

Kimi takes his hands out of his pockets, palms covered in the ropey white webs in question. He doesn’t ask how Sergi knew about the mess he’d made when he was barely aware of his - he knows everything. Sergi moves his hands from his shoulders to take Kimi’s hands, thumbs wiping over his wrists in a move that both reassures him and cleans him up. 

 

“We’ve got this. We’re a team, aren’t we? Always have been,” he smiles encouragingly, and Kimi nods.

 

“Yeah,” Kimi agrees softly.

 

His mind is quietened by the presence of his trainer. He knows when to push him, when to encourage him, but he knows how to talk to him when he’s so clearly stuck in his own head. Sergi treats him with a firm gentleness that soothes his beating heart and calms his racing mind. It’s what he needs. As terrifying as this situation is, he needs to breathe and refocus on the race this afternoon. He’s not doing this alone - Sergi’s got him.

 

“Yeah. We’re a team.”

Notes:

would you believe me if i said the first draft of this chapter was just 5.2k, and it turned into 10.1k after editing... oopsie daisy lol!!

anyway i hope you've enjoyed the introduction to this world i've spent the last 7 weeks writing. it's really fun to be posting chapter 1 after finishing the whole thing because oh my GOSH does it escalate between here and abu dhabi. buckle up guys, this is going to be one hell of an adventure.

if you've enjoyed so far, please leave a comment or kudos! your thoughts, feelings, and predictions about the fic are what make writing worth writing. you can also come say hello on tumblr (please i am DESPERATE to ramble about this au), or you can hop on discord and join the bearnelli discord server (other ships also welcome!) - see you next monday

Chapter 2: Issue 2: Wok Warfare

Zallaq, Bahrain
Wednesday 09 April 2025

 

Bahrain is a hot, desert country, but the gym that Kimi and Sergi are training in is cool and air conditioned. Everything here is state of the art: brand new machines that sparkle in the sunshine that radiates through the windows; polished weights with the labels still legible; balls and ropes and obstacles to train with. Kimi’s training, though, is going to be unconventional from here on out. Of course he’ll still have his usual programme - currently he’s sitting on a bench and working on his neck muscles, resisting the force Sergi can apply - but there’s a whole new dimension to explore now, a new group of muscles that need to be trained. Sergi’s studied the human body enough to have perfected a workout routine for the rest of him, but his webs? That’s a step into the unknown for them both. Kimi goes through his usual workout start to finish - cooldown on the bike included - before they decide it’s time to figure out how to train the rest of him.

 

Kimi’s been like this for years now, and Sergi is the only person he’s ever told. A short while after he’d been signed by Mercedes to the junior team, whilst karting with the Rosberg Racing Academy, there’d been an incident. 

 

A spider. 

 

It sounds utterly ludicrous, farcical almost, and if he hadn’t been cursed with his strange web creating powers then no one would’ve ever believed him (he’s still not sure why Sergi did). It feels like his body is infringing on copyright laws, and he can only imagine the field day that Marvel would have if word ever got out. He’d probably be sued for having the audacity to live! It’s not his fault that they’d managed to accurately portray how someone could be bestowed superpowers! And it’s just one of the long list of reasons he’d prefer people didn’t find out about his unnatural abilities. 

 

Sergi instructs him to sit down on a bench, and Kimi does. He places his elbows on his thighs and Sergi crouches before him, taking his arms in his hands to examine his body. He traces his fingers up and down the length of his forearm, running over his wrists and fingers, feeling for the joints and the muscles and testing how things work. 

 

“How’s school?” He asks, and Kimi shrugs. 

 

“Fine.”

 

“And racing?” 

 

“Fine.”

 

“And love?”

 

“Why are we making small talk?” He raises an eyebrow, noticing the smirk on his trainer’s face from the last question. 

 

He pauses in his methodical work to look up at him, doing what he can to wipe the expression of amusement away. Years with Sergi has resulted in a relationship halfway between best friends and brothers, and the way he’s teasing him now definitely feels like it’s falling into the latter category.

 

“Because we could be here until midnight whilst I try and figure this out,” he says with a laugh. “Silence is going to get boring.”

 

It’s a point Kimi has to concede with a roll of his eyes. It’s not like talking to Sergi is a bad thing - he can tell him anything and everything - it’s just that he’d rather not admit to a few things. Spending their sessions talking about Oliver Bearman at length wouldn’t just be awkward, it would’ve been dangerous until a few races ago. What if Ollie had walked in and caught him red handed, pining to his trainer? He’d never live that down!

 

The other topics brought up - school and racing - Kimi speaks much more freely about. School doesn’t interest either of them to any real degree, but it’s a nice distraction to think of sometimes: usually when he’d rather talk about Ollie or when he’s royally cocked up in the race and is still processing the pain and embarrassment of whatever it is he’s done. 

 

Today, his reluctance to speak is based on racing woes. It’s not that he hasn’t performed adequately - Toto, Bono, and the whole team take care to praise him and reinforce that they’re satisfied with his progress so far - it’s that…

 

“Do you think I’m a failure?” He asks his trainer matter-of-factly, with only traces of lingering self doubt in his voice. 

 

Sergi’s reply is just as blunt.

 

“No. Why do you ask?”

 

It’s something that’s been building up over the start of the season. The expectations placed on him were lofty, but nowhere near as high as the ones he’d placed on himself. His Qualifying gap to George is too wide, the frequency with which he damages the car and caps his own performance is too high, and now Japan has been and gone, it’s too late to be of note. It’s too late to be meaningful. It’s too late to…

 

“I didn’t win,” he says softly.

 

“You’ve had three races, Kimi,” Sergi reminds him gently, pinching the skin on the back of his hands and observing his body’s reaction. “No one expected you to win in the first three races.”

 

“But, the record…”

 

“It took Max twenty-four races to win, Kimi,” Sergi tells him. “If you’d been promoted two years ago, you would’ve beaten him. But there are rules in place now that mean young people aren’t put into the car too early. Could you have done it? Yes, I have no doubt about that,” he promises. 

 

Kimi knows it isn’t baseless praise, Sergi doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. 

 

“You’ll win a race this year, multiple races. Your success won’t be defined by whether or not you broke this particular record. Max has dozens of other records you can take,” he encourages.

 

Kimi nods slowly, offering Sergi a little smile. He doesn’t meet his eyes, never can when they’ve having heart-to-hearts like this. Looking someone in the eye whilst they praise you has always been too much for him. But whilst he’s ripping off bandages, he might as well keep going. 

 

“And love, eh?” He starts, something he does manage to capture Sergi’s gaze for. “Ollie.”

 

He watches Sergi consider this, humming to himself as he moves Kimi’s fingers and his webs shoot out. 

 

“He’s a good kid,” he replies. “But… He’s Ferrari, no?”

 

Kimi smiles ever so slightly at the only follow up question, the fact that there’s no fuss about the first name he’s ever given his trainer being a boy. Sergi’s always been perfect in every way, and this is no exception. He doesn’t have time to answer the question before Sergi is moving on.

 

“Okay, we’re going to start with resistance training, like your neck,” Sergi explains to Kimi. “When I push your fingers, I want you to squeeze your muscles and keep the web in. We’ll focus on building the strength later, but for now the focus should be control.”

 

Kimi nods. This might be a whole new world, but Sergi is still the man he trusts to guide him through it. They spend the better part of an hour trialling different methods to exercise his muscles until Kimi can reliably resist shooting a load of web straight into Sergi’s face (which only happened on two occasions, thank you very much!). 

 

It’s slow progress, but it’s progress, and that’s the important part. It’s far more exhausting than the rest of his training, even if it’s just miniscule movements in his wrists that are imperceptible outwardly. But this is a whole new group of muscles, ones he’s never really used before, and training them from scratch is going to take an awful lot of effort. It could be weeks until he’s really honed his ability enough to properly control and use his webs when he wants to.

 

“That was a good session,” Sergi says eventually, turning away to walk to his bag on the other side of the gym. “We learned a lot, eh?” 

 

“A lot,” Kimi agrees easily.

 

“I want you to keep up those exercises, three times a day. When you wake up, lunch time, and before bed,” Sergi instructs. “We’ll see how that helps with your control by Jeddah.” 

 

Kimi nods, looking down at his wrists and twisting his hands, flexing his fingers. The small movements feel impossibly difficult, even after the hand massage Sergi had given to help him relax. He’ll do the exercises three times a day as instructed, but he’s got the feeling his fingers are more likely to fall off than to have full control by the time they’re in Jeddah in a week.

 

Racing without his fingers couldn’t be that hard, surely! 

 

He looks back up when he hears footsteps approaching him, and his eyes widen as he jumps back and pushes himself off the bench. Sergi has a knife. Sergi is getting closer with the knife. Kimi practically tumbles to the ground in his panic, which is the perfect opportunity for his trainer to crouch down beside him and place the blade against his throat. Kimi can feel the sharp, cold metal against his skin and his blood pumps through his veins faster than he knows what to do with. Adrenaline is filling him, but he’s cornered and doesn’t know what to do about it. Sergi is his friend! He doesn’t understand what’s going on!

 

In his fear, his wrists release web. A lot of it. His muscles are too tired to control himself and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

 

Kimi closes his eyes and braces, holding his breath.

 

The blade is removed from his skin, and Sergi gets back to his feet.

 

“Sorry, mate,” he says softly. “Needed it to be real.”

 

Kimi blinks his eyes open and gasps for air, moving into a more upright position now that he’s not in immediate danger. His eyes follow Sergi as he walks back across the room and stows his knife in his bag, his heart still pounding as he starts to calm down.

 

“Fanculo!” He shouts. “Sergi, what was that?!”

 

“Testing a theory,” his trainer explains. “That was the most web you shot out all session. Your body makes more when you’re in danger.”

 

“Did you have to do it like… That?” He complains, gathering himself slowly and getting back to his feet. 

 

Kimi reaches for his neck with one hand, fingers running across the unbroken skin before anxiously playing with his necklaces.

 

“I told you, it had to be real. If I’d warned you, you wouldn’t have been scared. It wouldn’t have worked.”

 

He looks down at his free hand, turning it over so he’s staring at his palm. There’s so much web. He closes his hand and moves his fingers back and forth. The ropes are warm, stretchy but strong, and sticky. It’s an odd feeling. 

 

“Keep up with your exercises,” Sergi encourages. “Have a good night, Kimi.”

 

He’s in a daze as he goes back to the hotel for the evening, head spinning and muscles aching. Despite the moment with Sergi, which has left him feeling awfully confused and uncertain, he feels better. If - no, when - that man shows up again, Kimi can control himself. It’ll take some work to get there, and it’ll take time to understand how his body works, but he can keep himself hidden in the shadows, where he wants and needs to be.

 

+ + +

 

Zallaq, Bahrain
Sunday 13 April 2025

 

After a long and difficult weekend, Kimi’s relieved to cross the finish line at the end of the Grand Prix. P5 isn’t where he wants to be, not when George is on the podium and in P2 for the first time this season, but it’s his best result since Australia. It’s progress, even if that progress is slower than he’d like it to be. He thanks the team over the radio, apologises for the little mistakes he’s made, and lets Bono and Toto’s words wash over him in an attempt to soothe his disappointment.

 

He picks up tyre marbles and makes it back to Parc Ferme, switching his car off and pulling himself out. He can see the team celebrating George up ahead whilst he unclasps his helmet and he yearns for that himself. Kimi wants to be able to prove that he’s good enough. Even if they insist they don’t regret choosing him, even if they’re happy with his progress, he wants more than just them to be happy with him. He wants to do them proud, he wants to stand on the podium, he wants a celebration more than just a pat on the back for bringing points home. He wants to taste champagne - bitter and disgusting as it is. He wants to hold a trophy. He wants to hear the Italian anthem ring out over the loudspeakers as he basks in the glory of a win…

 

Kimi sighs, removing his balaclava and running his fingers through his curls as he goes to be weighed. Once he has his ticket he briefly visits the garage - handing Sergi his helmet and getting a hug and a kiss from his father - before he jogs down the pit lane to join the team in watching George on the podium.

 

The wind has picked up since the end of the race, and the sweat on Kimi’s brow makes him shiver as he stands beside Toto and stares up at the podium. Despite his own disappointment, it’s impossible to deny that George is having an incredible run of form. Three podiums in the span of four races is nothing to be laughed at, and with the McLaren’s tripping over each other it’s enough to keep them in the running for the WCC whilst he takes his time to get up to speed. It helps that Lando decided to take himself out of the race with a divebomb on Max that was only ever going to end one way, but Oscar’s win still eeks the team further ahead. No matter, there’s twenty more races to go, they’ll get there.

 

He will get there.

 

Toto wraps an arm around Kimi’s shoulder as they stand and watch the drivers come out. Charles first, then George (which gets a deafening roar and a raucous round of applause from the whole Mercedes team), then Oscar. Social media are taking photos and videos of the crowd and drivers alike as the Australian anthem starts to play, and whilst it’s nowhere near as good as the Italian anthem… Kimi will admit that he quite likes it. There’s a fun element to it. He’s smiling and watching just like he would with any other podium when it happens. 

 

When his wrist starts to tingle.

 

There’s no sign of the man, which is confusing, because Kimi’s been expecting the man to show up. Instead the first sign of anything being amiss - aside from his tingling wrist - is a shadow. A cloud that casts a shadow over the podium. It’s the middle of the night, all the lighting is artificial, any cloud low enough to create a shadow would be low enough to be beneath the light poles. And when Kimi looks up to investigate - like plenty more people do - he realises quickly that the ‘cloud’ in question isn’t a cloud at all. 

 

It’s a swarm of insects, dense enough to block out the light. Hundreds of tiny things buzzing loudly towards them. The crowd gasps and breaks into a concerned chatter, a low level of panic spreading amongst people. Kimi looks around anxiously, watching as the digital screens on the podium cut the feed of the driver’s flags and instead are replaced with bright yellow slogans.  

 

‘THE SWARM IS HERE’

 

‘1.5 IS OVER’

 

‘TIME IS UP’

 

The orchestra stop playing the anthem. Even if fear hadn’t gripped them and rendered them unable to continue on as the swarm of insects grew ever closer, they would’ve been silenced anyway as the source for the loudspeakers is converted. 

 

The voice that rings out is chilling: morphed and twisted to be devoid of its humanity. Yet there’s still a hint of recognition there for Kimi - something in the back of his mind that feels familiar, despite the great efforts that this person has clearly gone to to hide who they are.

 

“Hello, everyone,” the voice says. 

 

The panic grows, with some people starting to retreat from the podium to their garages. George, Oscar and Charles have been chaperoned away from the podium and back inside to safety. Kimi, meanwhile, is standing resolutely where he is. He can’t tear his attention away from what’s happened even as Toto tugs at his hand to urge him to leave as he starts to flee.

 

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” the voice continues. 

 

Kimi grits his teeth and clenches his fists, watching as the slogans on the screens are replaced with a tight camera shot of the man in question. Not of his real face, of course, of the mask that he wears. The lower layer is a skin tight yellow that follows the contours of his skull and a thick metal protective layer, with deep black almond shapes where his eyes would be. Atop this is a mechanical device, which Kimi can only presume is used to change his voice. It covers the man’s mouth and nose, and is striped black and yellow, with two little antennas attached at the side. And then there’s the pincers, bright yellow and moving as he speaks. Kimi can’t tell if they actually do anything, or if they just serve as a neat little effect to add to the feeling of fear that he seems to be spreading with great efficiency.

 

“I’ve been following you, for longer than you all know, and it’s so good to finally come face to face. Well, as face to face as this can be.”

 

Kimi tightens the muscles in his wrists, using the practice with Sergi to keep himself from doing anything that draws attention. Though with the state of chaos that the paddock is in right now, Kimi’s not sure there’s anything he could do to find the focus on him. Still, now isn’t the time to take chances. 

 

“I won’t leave anything to your imagination. I am the Hornet, and this… This is my Swarm,” he brags. “They’re friendly, I assure you. They don’t bite. They prefer to sting.”

 

“Kimi!” Sergi’s voice shouts across the paddock, the man running against the crowd fleeing to get to him. 

 

It snaps Kimi out of his thoughts and, without consideration, he runs towards his trainer. He won’t put his friend in harm’s way, even after the moment earlier in the week, just because he wants to know more. His curiosity is satiated - for now at least. It doesn’t take long for him to crash into the other, and Sergi puts a hand on Kimi’s bicep to half drag him back to the Mercedes garages. With the buzzing noise following them, thundering as they run, he’s desperate to look over his shoulder at the approaching swarm. He’s got thousands of questions he wants answers to, but that will come later.

 

The Hornet. That’s who’s following them. That’s already one question answered! It gives him precious little else to go on, though it does provide a solid connection for everything that’s happened so far. The yellow of his mask is the same colour as the paint used in the graffiti in Melbourne and Suzuka, and he now knows what the words about the Swarm meant. It’s a start, it’s something. 

 

Kimi and Sergi are the last to make it back into the garage before the shutters are lowered, and just in the nick of time. As soon as the metal is bolted down to the floor he can hear what sounds like hailstones being pelted against the side of the garage. The buzzing doesn’t stop, though it increases in pitch.

 

The only conclusion he can come to at that moment is that the Swarm isn’t, as they’d thought at first, a swarm of insects. Instead, whatever those things are, they’re artificial. They’re not real. Whoever the Hornet is, he’s crafted the Swarm to fulfill his desires. But what those desires are, Kimi’s not sure anyone knows just now, and that is a truly horrifying thought. The Hornet keeps upping the ante, and without his true motivations being understood there’s nothing to say that will stop any time soon.

 

Everyone in the garage is deathly silent, staring at each other as they catch their breath and try to figure out what’s just happened. Kimi looks up to Sergi, who looks back, and he shoves his hands in his pockets - this is more restraint than he’d expected to have to show, and much sooner than he expected to have to show it. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the sound of buzzing from outside fades to a low drone, and then to nothing. 

 

The Swarm, it seems, must have gone. 

 

The team still wait a little while longer before reopening the shutters, just to be on the safe side.

 

It’s dark when they do, cold as the breeze funnels through the garages once more, but there’s no sign of the Hornet. No sign of the Swarm. Nothing, except for a few small pieces of metal that have been left behind. Being so close to the shutters, Kimi has a moment to bend down and pick one up before everything goes back to business as usual and the team starts to pack down so their equipment can be shipped to Jeddah and the crew can head home. 

 

Kimi stares at the small metal thing in the palm of his hand, half the size of his thumb, and disturbingly bee shaped in its appearance despite its metallic exterior. Its body is painted black and yellow - though its legs and wings are dull, like carbon fibre. At the front of the ‘bee’ is a singular piece of red glass, its eye, shattered from the impact with the metal shutters. 

 

He can feel Sergi looking too, and his trainer silently places his hand atop Kimi’s, swiping the strange metal ‘bee’ and slipping it into his pocket. There’s a hand on the small of his back and Sergi is leading him away, insisting that it’s time to cool down and get ready for a debrief of the race. His father is approaching them both, arms outstretched for his son, desperate to pull him into his arms after the terror of the last few minutes and feel reassured that he’s safe and sound.

 

Kimi does as he’s instructed. He lets his father embrace him, he lets Sergi take him back to his driver room, and he doesn’t question a thing.

 

+ + +

 

Somewhere over Saudi Arabia
Monday 14 April 2025

 

Four races in Formula 1 aren’t quite enough for Kimi to have the funds to purchase a private jet, which means he’s taking a commercial flight from Bahrain to Jeddah. It’s a situation that a lot of the rookies find themselves in - though Gabriel often gets to hitch a ride with Fernando, and Ollie sometimes tags along with Charles or Carlos. Ollie’s beside him today, though. As soon as they’d figured out they were on the same flight they’d agreed with their fathers to switch seats, leaving David and Marco a few rows further back. 

 

Kimi, technically, gets an upgrade. He hadn’t bothered to book the seats with extra legroom, but he can understand why that’s a priority for Ollie. Even sitting here he’s fairly cramped. Kimi’s got the window seat, Ollie the aisle seat with his legs poking out the side whenever he gets the chance. They’re lucky that no one has insisted on sitting in the middle seat or swapping seats would’ve been for naught.

 

It shouldn’t be any real surprise to Kimi that Ollie is talking at length about what happened in Bahrain last night, and how it connects to Japan, to China, to Australia. It’s the talk of the paddock and it’s going to be until it’s resolved.

 

If it’s resolved.

 

“Are you ever going to look at your notifications?” Ollie asks Kimi, who hums as he buckles up in his seat as the plane jolts through some turbulence.

 

“Eh?”

 

“I’ve sent you like a billion posts, mate!” Ollie laughs. “Memes about the Hornet. He’s hot.”

 

Kimi’s eyes practically shoot out of his head.

 

“Scusi?!” He splutters, taking out his phone hurriedly as Ollie laughs a bit harder.

 

“Gabri keeps sending me shit on Instagram,” he explains.

 

Kimi quickly pulls out his phone and navigates through to his social media profile. He’s been deliberately avoiding it through the triple header, nervous about what might be said about his performances, but now he’s got to look. He’s glad to have paid for WiFi for the flight, ignoring all the news articles and the message requests and the tags and just navigating to his DMs with Ollie, where he’s been sent countless reels as promised. 

 

The captions are ridiculous. What does ‘emotional support terrorist’ even mean?! Why are the comments sections talking about his pincers in… Oh, people can’t be serious can they? Kimi squirms uncomfortably as he finds himself visualising the words he’s reading - not at all deliberately - but he keeps going. Ollie leans over to point out his favourites, which makes Kimi’s stomach twist with… Something. Definitely not jealousy. He’s not jealous that Ollie thinks a supervillain is hot. 

 

It’s ironic, he’s certain. It’s got to be. Ollie wouldn’t have a crush on a supervillain. 

 

“I think it’s a stunt,” Ollie says, the conversation taking on a more serious tone that Kimi is relieved about. “I think MBS is behind it. He’s always fighting with us, it makes sense that this is the only way he thinks he can hang on as President for another term. If he scares enough people, and makes it look like he’s handling the situation, they’ll vote for him again.”

 

“How does the FIA get their hands on a swarm of fake bees?” Kimi asks with a laugh, but Ollie’s answer is sincere. 

 

Clearly, Esteban has corrupted his friend.

 

“Where do you think the money from fines goes? This is why they don’t tell us! They’re developing like… Superweapons! To turn motorsports into a dictatorship!” 

 

“Mate, you’ve been watching too many movies,” Kimi says, leaning across to nudge him gently. It’s a drastic motion for a fleeting touch, but it makes him feel warm inside. 

 

Suddenly the stiff economy seats and the terrible snacks are worth it. Suddenly the world around him is good, and the idea of a supervillain terrorising him and the rest of the grid for the next twenty races is fine. Suddenly all that matters is… Ollie. 

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ollie asks, and Kimi blinks.

 

“Eh?”

 

“You’re all pink! Are you coming down with something?”

 

Oh, shit, he’s blushing. He’s blushing and Ollie has noticed. Kimi swallows, nodding his head quickly as he goes to sit back in his seat. It’s rigid again, stiff and hard and uncomfortable, and the world around him is cooler and darker. He might have the world’s worst crush on his former teammate, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the reverse is true. He needs to be normal around him. At the very least, he needs to do a better job of hiding how he feels. If the truth were to come out it would be catastrophic, but if the truth were to come out now? With nowhere to escape if it all went horribly wrong? 

 

His only option would be to jump out of a plane without a parachute, and frankly that sounds like the better alternative to Ollie holding him at arm’s length for the rest of their lives.

 

“Fine,” he insists. “Flying just makes me nervous.”

 

He reaches into his pocket instinctively, fingers brushing over the keyring charms. He’s not nervous, not really, but mentioning it is enough for him to subconsciously ground himself by running his fingers over the car and the teddy bear. 

 

“Oh my God, really? I didn’t know!” Ollie gasps. “I’m such a shit friend!”

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

“You can hold my hand when we’re landing, if you want?” Ollie offers, immediately outstretching his arm.

 

Kimi feels his cheeks heat up, turning even redder. If Ollie doesn’t know what he’s doing to him then this is a terrible coincidence, but if he does he’s a cruel, cruel man. He wishes they could go back to talking about the Hornet, but Ollie’s putting his headphones over his ears and leaving his hand palm up on the empty middle seat for Kimi to take if he needs it. 

 

Maybe, if he’s lucky, the Hornet will explode him into a thousand tiny pieces in Jeddah. Surely such complete and utter destruction of his being would render him unable to feel embarrassed any more.

 

He does hold Ollie’s hand whilst landing, though. To really convince Ollie that he’s scared of flying - not for any other reason.

 

+ + +

 

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Friday 18 April 2025

 

Kimi’s reaching the end of his first triple header as a Formula 1 driver, and he is drained. He’s never felt exhaustion like this before, and any feeling of tiredness before this suddenly feels entirely invalid. This. This is what it means to be completely and utterly worn out. And the worst part? He’s still got three more sessions: another practice, qualifying, and the race itself. Then and only then does he get a break of about ten days - during which he has to fly back to the factory, then to Italy for a few days of school, then out to Miami for the next race. Formula 1 is his dream, but he wishes he was still dreaming sometimes because that would mean he’s asleep. 

 

The discourse surrounding the Hornet online only seems to have spiralled more and more out of control over the last few days - though thankfully the theories bubbling around are less about how attractive the Hornet is and more about the links between Formula 1 and the villain. It’s clear not just to him, and to Sergi, but now more widely too. He’s practically turned his phone off, because it’s not just as simple as avoiding social media talking about him now, everything is talking about the Hornet. What’s going to be his next move? Will he show up in Jeddah to cause disruption, or will it just be the Swarm? Will their cars be broken and garages destroyed? There’s been an increased security presence in the paddock, and whilst it’s making some people feel better it’s putting Kimi more on edge. He’d like to be able to forget about the Hornet for a few minutes, however implausible that seems to be.

 

It’s why he’s decided, in order to wind down after a tricky few sessions, that he’s going to walk along the seafront. All that stands between him and the Red Sea is a thin metal barrier, the waves moving to and fro under the moonlight. It’s a peaceful place, more beautiful than he remembered from last year - though last year the focus was on his teammate’s sudden promotion. Everything had been utter chaos at Prema, and Kimi had muddled through as best he could. Now he has the opportunity to relax his mind and body, to wander under the stars and just exist. The wind whistles softly through the palm trees, leaves rustling as he makes his way down the path and towards his hotel. He could’ve taken a car, but this is an altogether much nicer way to spend the evening. He could’ve asked a friend to join him for his walk, but sometimes a bit of peace is nice. 

 

Kimi makes it to the end of the path and to a small beach, deciding to walk down and sit. There’s barely four inches between low and high tide, and Kimi isn’t sure which it is, but there’s plenty of sand and that’s all that matters. Despite the city behind him and the light pollution from the still illuminated street circuit, there’s a few stars to be seen - far off over the water. 

 

Tired as he is, he wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.

 

He lays back in the sand eventually, closing his eyes and listening to time pass by. The wind and the water, the traffic and the people, time moves slowly and Kimi cherishes every second he can.

 

And then, his wrist tingles.

 

It’s a feeling that, over the last week, he’s been working with Sergi not to dread but to harness. It’s quite literally his superpower, and he shouldn’t be afraid of it, he should find a way to live in harmony with it and if the time comes - use it. Of course, he knows that Sergi would rather the time never comes. He’s doing everything in his power to protect Kimi from what’s happening, from the Hornet and the Swarm and everything associated with it, and Kimi knows his job is to listen to what Sergi says and to follow his instructions. 

 

His wrist tingling tells him that something bad is about to happen - if it’s not happening already -  and he grabs his bag as he gets back to his feet with plans to head back towards his hotel. The last thing he wants to do is end up in danger because he assumed he was safe in a place as quiet as this.

 

As he starts to walk, his phone rings, and when Kimi sees his father’s name appear on the screen he can’t help but smile - some comfort amidst the uncertainty he feels.

 

“Ciao papino!” He declares cheerfully as he starts to head back to the path. 

 

“Kimi!” His father’s voice is anything but cheerful, and Kimi freezes.

 

“Papino?” He whispers, speaking to him in their native Italian. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I love you,” Marco urges. “There’s… I’m buying jewelry for Maggie, but there’s someone here. I love you. Tell your mother I love her. Tell Maggie I–”

 

The call cuts, and Kimi’s heart pounds in his chest.

 

“Papino?!” He shouts desperately, despite the constant tone on the line indicating that the connection has been lost. 

 

His eyes are wide with fear as he processes what’s just happened. His father has called him, told him he loves him, and sounded panicked as he did. These aren’t things that his father would do if he wasn’t in terrible, terrible danger. His tingling wrist is a reminder of what that terrible danger is.

 

Kimi knows he should go back to his hotel and stay safe, that he doesn’t know what he’s up against or what’s going on, and he should follow Sergi’s instructions to keep safe, but it’s different now. The Hornet isn’t attacking complete strangers, his father is caught in the crossfire. He still has a choice to make, he could still leave the response to whatever is happening in the hands of emergency services, still sit back and stay out of it, still keep himself safe… 

 

But it’s his father. 

 

When he hears an explosion in the distance, his mind is made up.

 

Kimi slides his rucksack off his shoulders, unzipping it quickly and catching his thumb as he does. It stings a bit, but doesn’t stop him from rooting through the things he has. A hat, a jumper, some half eaten snacks and a bottle of water. And, because he forgot to take it out and leave it in his driver room, his balaclava. It’s the only thing he’s got to hide his identity and if he’s doing this, well, he can’t risk anyone knowing it’s him. He pulls it over his head, trying to arrange it to obscure as much of his face as possible, and he takes the jumper out too. Turning it inside out reveals an entirely black piece of fabric, without Mercedes logos to trace it back to him, so he puts it on like that and figures this is the best he’s going to be able to do. With his rucksack back on his shoulders, he takes a deep breath and starts to run as quickly as he possibly can towards the sound of the commotion. 

 

Only a minute after leaving the sandy beach, Kimi’s pushing through crowds of people who flee on tarmac. He can see smoke rising from the mall, and he dreads to think what might be happening to his father. Running, it’s just not cutting it. He’s not fast enough. By the time he gets there it’ll be too late to make a difference, too late to save his father.

 

So he thrusts his faith in his disguise, he thrusts his faith in the little training he’s done with Sergi, and he angles his wrists and fingers to shoot out his web and attach it to the side of a building. It’s tall - a hotel? Oh, who cares what it is! - and when he feels the ends of his web attach he closes his eyes and nods his head. He can do this. This will work. He’s got this. 

 

Kimi tightens his muscles that, normally, he’d use to keep himself from letting out any web, but given he already has let out his web and he’s still attached to that web he feels himself move. With the same kind of G-forces he’d experience whilst accelerating his car, Kimi feels his body hurtle at speed. In an instant he’s above the crowd of people, limbs flailing helplessly as he soars across the sky. This is the easy part, he’s realising now - too late to do anything about it - that he hasn’t at all accommodated for the landing. 

 

As he passes the edge of the hotel, Kimi swipes his hands over his wrists to sever his webs. He’s still struggling through the air with about as much elegance as a cat that’s fallen into water, and he realises he has two options: crash onto the ground, or do it all again. Given it seems less likely to kill him in the short term, Kimi throws one arm out haphazardly and shoots out another web towards another building. He repeats the same motions from before and feels his stomach rise and fall as he swings, again, closer to the mall. The whole experience is a cross between a rollercoaster and the W16. He feels dizzy, and sick, and he really can’t tell if he’s looking at the ground or the sky, but he keeps going. Kimi lets his instinct carry him towards the sound of explosions and screams until he really has no choice but to figure out this whole landing thing. 

 

It’s almost as if whoever planned the layout of the city knew this day would eventually come (though Kimi has no idea how anyone could’ve had that kind of foresight). Alongside the mall is a strip of trees, and that seems like a far more comfortable landing than the road. He’s not really sure how he’s supposed to aim, but he does his best to steer his body rather than just panic.

 

The trees, despite almost certainly being less fatal than the road, aren’t altogether that much more comfortable to land in. Branches poke and prod at him indignantly, and the backs of his hands are scratched up. He feels the world turn upside down around him as one of his legs is caught in amongst the leaves. Kimi dangles for a moment, just long enough to catch his breath and reorient his head, before shaking his leg and dropping to the ground below with a painful thud. His shoulder aches despite his bag doing some work to cushion his fall, and the scratches on his hands and legs sting against the cold, but from here he can feel the ground shake as another explosion rocks the mall and every last bit of discomfort is forgotten in favour of running ahead. 

 

Much like when he’d started swinging and realised he hadn’t thought about landing, Kimi realises that he’s running towards the exploding mall without a plan for what to do when he gets there. That isn’t enough of a reason to stop running towards it, but it does mean his brain kicks into gear as he runs through the parking lot and searches desperately for an entrance.

 

The outside of the mall, he notes, is vandalised in much the same way that everything else has been previously. There’s graffiti and paint, the same yellow slogans on the floor and the walls.

 

When he gets to the doors, they’re locked. Shit. Kimi really doesn’t have time to be looking for another entrance. He just takes a few long strides back, bracing himself and running straight at the doors. He closes his eyes - both to stop himself from getting glass in them and to keep self preservation from kicking in and stopping him - just before his body slams into the doors and shatters them wide open. He stumbles, falling into the broken pieces as he lands on his side, and he groans as pain shoots through his body. This superhero thing is overrated - next time he’s trapped in a conversation with Esteban, Kimi is going to make his feelings on the matter known. For now all he can do is open up his eyes, push himself to his feet (more glass in his hands - great!) and run through the open corridors. There’s cafes, clothing stores, jewellers, department stores, makeup and perfume outlets - all covered in that same graffiti again - but Kimi doesn’t have the time to window shop right now. He just runs, adrenaline hiding the worst of his injuries from him, and gradually makes his way closer to the sound of terrified people. He can hear the cries, the screams, and the buzzing. That damned buzzing from Bahrain is back again. 

 

When Kimi rounds the corner and finds himself in the open, central hub of the mall, he can see the Swarm high in the ceiling. It makes his heart race, but he’s seen them before. What he hasn’t seen before - not in flesh and blood, at least - is the man standing atop a table in the centre of the room. He’s not that much taller than Kimi is himself - though the table adds a couple of feet to his height to make him look far more intimidating. For the first time, Kimi gets a proper look at his outfit. The black and yellow theming for his mask extends down his entire body. At first glance it seems form fitting, but upon closer observation it’s obvious that there’s a tough, thick exoskeleton. Built for looks, and for protection, the Hornet is clearly taking this seriously. Not only is he raising the stakes, but he’s capable of taking the fight.

 

And Kimi? He’s just a teenager in a balaclava and an inside-out jumper.

 

Fighting, then, is out of the question. What he needs to do is get his father - and the broader group of people - safety. There’s maybe two dozen that haven’t managed to escape the mall and Kimi can see the fear in their eyes. He’s here to save his father, but that doesn’t make their lives expendable, and if that means a suicide mission then so be it. He’s come this far, giving up now just means everyone here will die with him.

 

“Hey, fly boy!” He shouts confidently - it sounds so much cooler in his head. “Can’t catch me,” he teases.

 

Kimi can’t see an expression below the mask, but the way that the Hornet’s body language shifts he can only assume he’s anything but amused. He’s taken the Hornet’s entire focus, which was entirely the point of that quip, and now he has to take that focus and run with it.

 

So he does. Literally. He runs straight past the Hornet and towards a stalled escalator, taking the steps two at a time to get to the next floor up. From there, he has to duck as one of the individual ‘bees’ from the Swarm descends towards him. It’s only a few feet away when it detonates, and Kimi’s arms fly to his head to protect himself. 

 

Holy shit!

 

He stumbles, twists his body so he’s on his ass and starts practically dragging himself backwards. This damn floor has no grip and his hands are so covered in blood from falling in glass earlier that he’s got even less traction. He can see a scorch mark on the marble where the thing exploded, and he looks up towards the glass ceiling to realise, in horror, that there’s hundreds more where that came from. 

 

Time. This is about buying these people time and getting out as soon as he possibly can. As two more ‘bees’ move towards him, Kimi bends one wrist and swings himself out of harm’s way at a moment’s notice. He skids along the floor uncomfortably, getting back to his feet and scanning the mall around him for a solution. There’s got to be something he can use to defend himself here! The first semi-useful thing he lays his eyes on is a store selling sports equipment, and he decides that’ll provide cover if nothing else. With more of the ‘bees’ following him, Kimi sprints through the door and jumps over the counter. Behind him he hears the buzzing of the Swarm and he puts his hands over his mouth to quiet his breathing. He needs a plan! Why didn’t he think of a plan?!

 

There’s a few quiet beeps behind him before a small blast on the other side of the shop, and Kimi can take two pieces of information from that.

 

Firstly, the Swarm can’t see him. Secondly, before they explode there’s a moment of warning. He can use that to his advantage. Kimi turns his head, looking at what it is the shop actually stocks. Most of it seems to be running shoes, football boots, tennis balls, and swimming costumes. There’s nothing of use upon first glance, and Kimi feels disheartened. He’s just run head first into a dead end. He lowers his hands, placing them behind him, and he feels boxes.

 

Returned items. 

 

Careful to move quickly but quietly, Kimi starts to search through the returns until he finds what he can only describe as his Holy Grail. A baseball bat. 

 

Buoyed by confidence, Kimi gets back to his feet, and the part of the Swarm that’s followed him immediately returns their attention to him. Kimi takes the moment he has to run back out of the store, not a huge fan of the idea of being cornered. The Swarm follows him, and the rest of the Swarm seems to have joined too. The Hornet, clearly, is not entertained by his distraction techniques. 

 

Kimi breathes heavily as he runs, the buzzing sound of the ‘bees’ growing louder and louder. They’re faster than him, there’s nothing he can do about that, which means he has to outsmart them. That isn’t a given either. He comes to the end of the corridor and swallows, turning back to look at the growing swarm behind him. Weighing the baseball bat in one hand, Kimi holds out his other arm and shoots his web down the hall. When he feels it connect to something he tightens his muscles like before to pull himself along and as he’s dragged over the floor he raises his bat and swipes back and forth without putting too much thought into the motion, trying to destroy as many of the ‘bees’ as quickly as he can. He hears the metal creations thud against the wooden bat, and by the time he’s at the other end of the corridor the thing is splintered to Hell and back. At least in his wake, he’s left a good amount of the ‘bees’ immobile. Kimi pushes himself back to his feet and starts to run again, around the central part of the mall. If he looks over the barriers he can see that the Hornet - and the people trapped in the mall - are all staring and watching. Great! Do they not get what he’s trying to do here?!

 

He darts into another shop, a department store, and Kimi races through the aisles to find something else to use as a weapon, something a bit more durable than a wooden bat. The Swarm chases him, and Kimi swears he’ll be able to hear that irritating, high pitched buzzing sound in his dreams tonight. His head swivels back and forth as he searches for something useful. Bedsheets? No. Coat hangers? No. Pots and pans? 

 

Kimi jumps down the kitchenware aisle as some of the Swarm flies overhead, several beeping sounds and explosions heard behind him as he dives for the biggest pan he can find. A wok. It can be used to hit the ‘bees’ away, but it doubles as a shield and he uses it to protect himself as he starts to run back to the exit, still looking for something else he can arm himself with. He finds that something else just as he’s about to leave, and when he makes it back onto the mezzanine he’s got his wok as a shield and a golf club as a weapon. He perhaps doesn’t look like the coolest, most ferocious hero, but he’s working with what he’s got and he’s not exactly got the time to colour pick and theme his tools. 

 

“What are you looking at?” He shouts down to the crowd beneath him. 

 

He must be a sight, covered in blood and scratches, glass in his hands with a singed balaclava, no wonder everyone is staring. 

 

“Run!” He encourages. 

 

It’s not exactly subtle, but as the Hornet goes to turn on those people and keep them from running, Kimi swings the golf club and sends a dozen ‘bees’ raining down on him. Already beeping, they explode in close proximity to the villain and the Hornet is sent stumbling backwards. Clearly he wasn’t expecting any real resistance, and certainly he’s underestimated Kimi - something else he can take advantage of.

 

Of course, it feels like much less of an advantage when the Hornet cuts his losses with the crowd and focuses all his attention on Kimi. His wok and golf club don’t feel particularly useful when he starts to run towards him and the Swarm regroups. Kimi stands his ground for a split second, watching the people run the way that he’d come in, and he decides to flee in the opposite direction to give them the best chance of getting out unharmed.

 

He flexes his wrist, holding tightly to the wok and golf club as he sends himself hurtling along the corridor. The Hornet can’t keep up with him, but the Swarm can. He needs another exit and he needs it fast, but there’s just dead ends every way he goes. Kimi’s running out of options and he’s running out of time, and the adrenaline in his body is starting to wear off. Everything hurts, he needs to get out now. When he turns around the look behind him he groans, the sight of the Swarm still following him filling him with hopelessness. He’s tired, no amount of training for a Formula 1 Grand Prix can get him out of this…

 

Kimi lets his head fall back and stares up at the ceiling, looking into the deep, inky abyss of the night sky through the glass roof.

 

Glass roof. 

 

He takes a breath, he can do this. Kimi shifts his weight on his feet to take a confident stance, he holds the wok protectively across his chest and prepares the golf club in his right hand, moving back and forth to find the right angle as the Swarm grows ever closer. He’s got one chance to get this right, one chance to escape, if he fails… Well, at least he won’t have to live with that failure for very long.

 

Kimi hears the buzzing turn to beeping and he swings the club with all the strength he can muster up from his exhausted body, and he sends the ‘bees’ hurtling skywards. They smash into the glass, some exploding and some just hitting, and the ceiling turns into a thousand tiny fragments. Kimi ducks beneath the wok as they rain down on him, trying to protect himself from the worst of it. As soon as that moment has passed he drops the wok and golf club - both now relatively warped from their repurposing - and he flexes his wrist to send out his web into the night. The Swarm tries to smother him, but before they have a chance to detonate he’s swinging out the broken ceiling and into the night. 

 

There’s sirens, helicopters, the Swarm returns to the Hornet and as Kimi swings, he can spot the people escaping through the entrance he’d used earlier. Emergency services are on hand to help them, they’re safe, they’re okay.

 

His father is okay.

 

He’s done exactly what he set out to do.

 

He’s not answered any of his questions about the Hornet - who is he? What are his motivations? - but they can be left for another day. For now, he just needs to get back to his hotel. He needs to get help, help that won’t ask too many questions and won’t hold him accountable for what’s happened. 

 

Landing, this time, is less about the trees and more about the swimming pool. Kimi’s learned his lesson from the branches sticking in every part of him, and he coordinates his landing in his hotel’s pool. If it weren’t the middle of the night, and there wasn’t chaos unfolding in the city, he’s pretty sure he would’ve been spotted and questions would’ve been asked. Thankfully there’s no one out to notice him as he lands with a splash, but if anyone were to leave their hotel rooms to see the blood soaked boy trailing pool water through the corridor he’s not sure anyone would’ve raised an eyebrow. He feels energy sapping from his body as he enters the elevator alone, but he uses that time to take off his balaclava and jumper and shove them into his pool soaked rucksack. 

 

The elevator stops on the 7th floor, and Kimi steps out. His legs feel shaky, and he stumbles slowly to his destination: room 712. He knocks a few times on the door, the sound weaker than he’d expected it to be, but there’s no delay in the door being answered because of it. Standing before him, Sergi, who does nothing but sigh at the state of him.

 

Kimi is herded inside and Sergi moves him around silently, removing his shirt and his jeans and wrapping a towel around him whilst water drips from his hair and down his face. He’s taken through to the bathroom and Sergi sits him down on the edge of the bath so he can take a pair of tweezers and start to pull the countless shards of glass out of him. Anyone else would’ve insisted on taking him to a hospital, but that’s why Kimi is here and not with anyone else. Sergi promised to always keep him safe, and that includes keeping this secret between just the two of them.

 

He trusts him, even after the moment in Bahrain, to keep that promise.

 

“You shouldn’t have gone,” he says after a few minutes, where the only real sound has been Kimi whimpering each time Sergi pulls out some glass from his palm, and the glass rattling as it’s deposited in the sink basin. 

 

“I had to,” he combats, his voice frail even as he attempts to project confidence. “Papino was going to die.”

 

Sergi, to his credit, doesn’t raise his voice as he argues back.

 

“You’re hurt, Kimi.”

 

“He attacked my family!” Kimi defends. “And people! Normal people!” 

 

Sergi glances up from his work, and Kimi feels his eyes examining him closely. 

 

“Tell me what happened,” he instructs. “The whole story.”

 

So Kimi does. As Sergi continues his duty, Kimi recounts the phone call, the explosions, the makeshift disguise, and learning to swing between the buildings and landing in the trees. He tells his trainer about the mall, the Hornet, the Swarm. In retrospect, he feels damn proud of the play with the baseball bat, the wok and the golf club. He could’ve died, probably should’ve died, but he didn’t. He saved his father, he saved those people, and he saved himself. He’s amazing!

 

Sergi doesn’t seem quite as enthused as he expected him to be.

 

“We need to tell Toto,” he sighs, and Kimi’s eyes open wide. 

 

“Eh? No! Sergi, this is our secret!” He pleads, but Sergi shakes his head.

 

“It was our secret,” he explains. “But we made a deal. We keep the secret, but we keep you safe. You’ve broken that promise, Kimi. Look at you! You’re not safe anymore. And your disguise, maybe it’s good enough for today but don’t you think that man knows there’s someone coming for him now? You spoke to him, Kimi. He heard your voice. You are not safe. If I can’t keep you safe, then we have to tell someone. We have to find a way to keep you safe.”

Kimi swallows. He understands, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about this. 

 

“Sergi…”

 

“After the race,” he relents. “Sunday evening, we’ll tell him then. But I’m not letting you out of my sight for the rest of the weekend.”

 

It’s a bargain that Kimi is happy to make. Both because it buys him a few more days before anyone else knows, and because he’s utterly drained. He doesn’t think he has the energy to get himself back to his own room anyway. Sergi finishes tending to his injuries in silence, using antiseptic wipes to clean his wounds and wrapping bandages and placing plasters over anything he can. Eventually he wraps Kimi up in a soft, warm dressing gown and carries him back out into the bedroom. Kimi’s already asleep by the time his trainer places him in the bed, texts and calls from his father going unanswered, but his body needs the night to heal as much as it possibly can from its ordeal. His dreams are strange, filled with the Hornet and the Swarm, but he doesn’t wake up. Not until Sergi is bringing him breakfast and instructing him to shower. His body aches down to his bones, and the next two days are going to be nothing short of agonising.

 

+ + +

 

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Monday 21 April 2025

 

Kimi finishes the weekend with a P4 for his efforts, a hair’s breadth off the podium in the end. At least he’s managed to beat out George on this occasion - admittedly a safety car fell perfectly into his pit window - and after everything the last 72 hours have involved, Kimi is more than satisfied with his position. Without a podium to attend - and the media that goes with it - the team are able to quickly get through their debrief and it’s only just past midnight by the time that they’re being dismissed. With two weeks until they race in Miami, they’re all going their separate ways. Kimi offers George a wave as his teammate heads back to his hotel, but before Kimi can follow suit there’s a hand on his shoulder. 

 

Sergi. Right. Telling Toto. He’d kind of hoped that Sergi had forgotten, but clearly that isn’t the case. 

 

“Toto,” Sergi says, catching the boss’s attention. “A word?”

 

Toto nods, quickly finishing a conversation with Bradley before he approaches the pair and gives them his full attention. Kimi feels as if he’s back at school already, with a teacher taking him to the headmaster for misbehaving. 

 

“Actually, this is private,” Sergi explains. “Top secret. Could you come with us?” 

 

Toto seems amused, despite how much Kimi can see he’d like to get to his own bed, and the three quietly make their way out of the paddock - waving to their colleagues as they pass by. Marco tries to follow, but Kimi has to shake his head. He doesn’t want to, not after he came so close to losing his father only a few days ago, but Marco still has no idea of the identity of his saviour and Kimi intends on keeping that a secret for as long as he possibly can. For what it’s worth, Marco understands the obligations with his employer and lets him go without question. Kimi and Sergi pile into the back of Toto’s car and they’re driven the short distance back to the hotel. With the roads opened for public use once more it doesn’t take long at all, and it takes even less time for them to head back to Sergi’s room. It might be the most awkward elevator ride that Kimi’s ever shared with the two men, but the atmosphere could be about to get a whole lot worse. 

 

Sergi unlocks the door with a swipe of his keycard and the three step inside, Sergi first, then Kimi (who toes off his shoes and goes to sit on the sofa), then Toto. Kimi dips a hand into his pocket, taking out his charms and twisting them between his fingers as he waits for someone to say something.

 

They don’t, though. Sergi communicates to Toto through his eyebrows alone and the two stand and stare at him. Toto’s got his hands in his pockets, one hip slightly popped, and Sergi has his arms folded across his chest. Clearly they’re expecting him to be the one to speak, and Kimi can only have them stare at him in silence for so long before he’s convinced that remaining quiet would leave them disappointed in him. Toto’s like a second father, he cannot handle disappointment.

 

“I was there, on Friday,” he starts, because he has no idea what to say. 

 

With Sergi it was easier. He told him years ago, when he was a young teenager who didn’t overthink things and just telling him he’d been bitten by a spider and could shoot webs out of his wrists was easy. Now he doubts every word he says, even though he’s lived these things, even though there’s blurry photos and CCTV footage to back up his story. 

 

“The mall?” Toto asks, and Kimi watches as his expression fades to worry. “Were you hurt? Sergi, if you tell me he’s driven with broken bones I’ll tear up your contract,” he says firmly, and Kimi winces. 

 

He’s sure his boss doesn’t really mean that, but it’s one way of confirming that he cares.

 

“Nothing that wasn’t superficial,” Sergi confirms. “Some cuts, but you’ve seen his hands.”

 

Kimi exhales, attention back on him, and he bites the inside of his cheek as he tries to find the words to explain everything.

 

“It… It was me. Not the bad guy, the one who, eh… Fought him…”

 

Toto’s expression shifts once again, and Kimi watches as the thoughts and emotions battle out on his face for dominance. Confusion turns to disbelief, which turns to disappointment, then amazement, and finally concern. It’s shock that wins out in the end. 

 

“Really?”

 

Kimi nods his head. 

 

“Sergi’s known for years,” he admits, Toto’s head turning to his trainer. 

 

He continues talking before the man gets into any kind of trouble. 

 

“I told him not to tell you, and we kept it a secret. When all this started a few weeks ago he started working with me to try and… Control it. But he was very strict that I wasn’t supposed to get involved.”

 

“Fighting a supervillain sounds an awful lot like getting involved, Andrea,” Toto tells him, and he swallows. 

 

Andrea is never a good word to hear from his boss.

 

“Sergi wasn’t there to stop me,” he defends the man. “And I… Toto, everything else has been a statement. There were explosions. My father was at the mall, innocent people were going to get hurt! I could do something, I did do something! I saved them all!”

 

It feels ludicrous that he has to justify protecting others, but he understands that to Sergi and Toto, he is the priority. If he’d gotten hurt - or worse - then everything they’d done for years to train him and prepare him for this seat would be wasted. They want to keep him safe, and he wants to do what’s right. Those two things don’t exactly go hand in hand right now.

 

“I’m not going to stop,” he says, the words surprising even himself.

 

On Friday, he acted out of desperation to save his father. But now that he’s revisiting the events of the night, he realises he can’t only get himself involved when it benefits him. If he hadn’t gone, then a dozen people would be dead. In the future, what if it’s worse? What if it’s two dozen? Or a hundred? Or more? People dying, people that he can save, because there’s no one he loves amongst their number. There’s enough on his shoulders taking on the mantle of Lewis Hamilton’s old Mercedes seat at his tender age, the idea that the weight of countless deaths could be added doesn’t sit right with him. 

 

He has a power, and with that power comes a duty. More than a duty, a responsibility. 

 

Esteban would love to be part of this thought process.

 

“And you can’t stop me,” he continues. “If I can fight the Hornet and the Swarm, then there’s nothing you can do to keep me in place in a hotel whenever he strikes.”

 

The two men look between themselves and Toto sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s known Kimi’s stubborn since before he signed him, his willingness to persevere was one of the key qualities he’d praised him for as he worked his way up the junior ladder. Now, he can see him regretting the very trait he’d once promoted in his young talent.

 

“Alright,” Toto says softly. “Alright. You’re right. We can’t stop you.”

 

“Thank you,” Kimi says, sighing a little. 

 

He didn’t realise he’d been so nervous about this conversation. 

 

“But if you’re doing this, we need to keep you safe,” he says. “I’ll have something made.”

 

“For Miami?” Sergi checks. “The Hornet is following us, clearly. We have to assume he’ll try something in Miami, so we have to assume that Kimi will do something about it then, too.”

 

Toto nods, beckoning Kimi to stand by bending two of his fingers. Kimi follows the silent request and an arm quickly snakes around his shoulders, and before he knows it he’s slipping back into his shoes and leaving Sergi’s room behind. Toto’s hand grips him tightly, and he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it. It’s nice to be hugged, nice to feel like there’s a strong, protective set of arms ready to catch him if something goes wrong. Throughout his entire junior career Toto has provided that to him, and it’s clear that nothing is changing now. 

 

They wander quietly through the corridors, Kimi being escorted back to his own hotel room, fishing his key card from his pocket to allow them both to step inside and continue their conversation. If anyone were to see them, it wouldn’t be an unusual sight at all. A boy and his team principal needing to talk about confidential things wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Onlookers would think it’s a late night contract extension chat, they’d have no idea how bizarre and far fetched the truth really is.

 

“I don’t want you to do this,” Toto says softly as the door closes.

 

Kimi’s already making himself comfortable - kicking his shoes off, throwing his bag to one side, not caring at all to be neat and tidy around his boss - and he looks up. 

 

“Eh?”

 

“It’s dangerous.”

 

“So’s driving a Formula 1 car,” Kimi rebuts. “It’s the right thing to do.”

 

“You know what I mean,” Toto sighs.

 

Kimi sits down on the edge of his bed, bouncing on the soft mattress slightly whilst Toto stands in front of him, arms folded across his chest. The expression on his face could easily be misconstrued as anger over the fact that Kimi is even considering pursuing this superhero business, but Kimi knows his boss well enough to understand that it isn’t anger at all. Toto is worried about him, and Kimi can’t argue against that. He’s worried too - terrified, actually! - but what’s the alternative? To stand back and watch when news reports come in of the Hornet claiming the lives of innocent people? How is he supposed to go racing when all that plagues his thoughts is the lives cut short that he could’ve saved?!

 

“I meant what I said,” Kimi tells him seriously. “I’ll do it, whether you want me to or not. So, don’t you think it’s better to work with me?”

 

He doesn’t look remotely amused at Kimi's insistence, but crucially there’s no threat to follow it up. He’s sure, if he wanted to, there’d be a clause in his contract that could be used against him. Nothing as explicit as ‘you can’t be a superhero’, but something along the lines of prohibitions on extreme sports. Technically, swinging through cities from webs shot from his own wrists probably counts as an extreme sport. A lawyer would argue it’s parkour, and dangerous, and therefore he needs to stop.

 

“Look,” Kimi gets back to his feet, retrieving his bag and delving inside. 

 

He pulls out his notebook and places it on the small desk at the side of the room, watching it fall open to one of the more used pages. It’s filled with notes about tyre wear in Japan - the margins filled with the usual doodles and scribbles about Ollie that makes him blush profusely under Toto’s watchful eye - and he quickly flicks through to find a more recently used page. Data from practice sessions, notes about pulling back on corner entries for better exits (a phrase that, if he hears Bono remind him once more over the radio, he’ll lose his mind), but eventually it’s what he’s looking for.

 

Sketches of the Hornet himself.

 

Kimi wouldn’t consider himself an artist, but he is dedicated. Whatever he’s doing, he’ll put his mind to it and do it to the best of his ability, and that includes sitting down the last few evenings when sleep couldn’t find him to try and draw the Hornet from memory. He steps back, cheeks returning to their usual colour, to allow Toto to examine the pages. 

 

“You can use this,” Kimi tells him, Toto’s fingers dancing along the graphite lines. “This is the Hornet. This will help, no? If you know what he looks like, you can make something that will actually keep me safe.”

 

Toto hums. Kimi can see in his eyes that he’s trying desperately not to look impressed.

 

“I’ll make some calls,” he agrees. “The team working on upgrades for this year might be able to spend some time on you.”

 

Kimi smiles a little bit. Toto wouldn’t say that if he thought it would cost the team more than it would benefit him, but upgrades this year are going to be few and far between anyway - the focus has almost entirely shifted to 2026 now. 

 

“Thank you,” Kimi says, wincing a bit as Toto places one hand on the book to hold it steady as he rips the page out to take with him.

 

“It’s good to see you listen to Bono,” he says, trying to diffuse the unusual tension between them.

 

“He’s a great engineer, a really good teacher,” Kimi agrees - he can feel it too.

 

Words unspoken, something in the atmosphere that he can’t quite put his finger on.

 

They’re both quiet for a long moment, and for once the silence that hangs isn’t comfortable. Kimi’s tongue escapes his mouth, licking his lips, and his fingers move to twist and play nervously with his necklaces. Maybe… Maybe he should tell him about what happened in Bahrain with Sergi, about the knife. Maybe it’s nothing, but if he’s telling him about the rest of the situation it could be important. 

 

He doesn’t say anything, though. Doesn’t have to in the end. Toto is the one to break the silence.

 

“This is different from driving, Kimi.”

 

He nods, it feels like a given. Toto doesn’t seem impressed with his reaction, though.

 

“I mean it,” he cautions. “Everyone knows who you are when you go out on the track. They know you’re a rookie, they know you’re still learning, they don’t judge you too harshly. People won’t know who you are when you do this, they can’t know who you are. But everything you do wrong will be focused on. You’ll be under a microscope.”

 

“I understand,” he nods.

 

“No, you don’t,” Toto stresses. “When you drive, a mistake costs you a few positions, some points, but you learn. If you’re going to fight, if you’re going to save people, mistakes mean people die.”

 

Kimi swallows, shifting uncomfortably under Toto’s stern gaze.

 

“We control what people say about you. Monza last year, we told everyone about your raw speed, and they forgot about the crash. We can’t control what people think about you with this. They will watch you, and judge you, and hate you. You will never be good enough. You will never save enough people.”

 

His stomach drops, his mind swirling with anxiety, but the more Toto says the more he realises just how true it is. Toto isn’t telling him this to scare him off what he’s going to do - his mind cannot be fundamentally changed - he’s preparing him. Being a superhero isn’t like the comic books Esteban talks about so fondly, it’s real. Every mistake he makes is a parent not going home to a child, every second he loses is a sister losing a brother.

 

But if he does nothing? Then more people will suffer.

 

Kimi nods again, bracing himself.

 

“I understand,” he says, his tone finally satisfying Toto’s expectations.

 

“I’ll be here, the whole way,” Toto’s hand finds his shoulder once again and squeezes. “I can’t do anything about the rest of the world, but I can be here.”

 

Kimi turns to look at him, staring up at his face. He feels like a little boy again, standing beside Toto in the Mercedes garage wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of headphones so big they keep threatening to slide off his head. They’ve both changed since then - Kimi likes to think he’s grown a couple of inches, and he’s sure Toto doesn’t like to think about the wrinkles and frown lines that now mark his face - but the dynamic hasn’t changed at all.

 

Toto is still by his side, protecting him, guiding him, believing in him. 

 

It makes all the difference in the world, and Toto’s hand moves from his shoulder to pull him into a proper hug. Kimi appreciates the squeeze of his torso as his face is pressed against his chest, the security and safety that the gesture brings. The less people that know about this situation, the better, and that means he can’t tell his family. Toto, then, is the next best thing.

 

“Don’t do anything stupid until we have something to keep you safe,” Toto instructs him as he pulls out of the hug, and Kimi nods his head obediently.

 

The Hornet and his Swarm only seem to be attacking when there’s a race - whether they’re attacking the race directly or just doing something adjacent to gain attention. It means that they’ve got two weeks until Miami to prepare. He’s got two weeks to train, two weeks to really hone his web usage, and two weeks to mentally prepare for what’s to come.

 

Toto starts to walk towards the door, taking his phone out of his pocket to begin making calls, when he stops and turns back around to face him. 

 

“And, Kimi?” He starts. “Find something to call yourself. Something that isn’t Spiderman. We don’t need Marvel trying to uncover your identity for the sake of a lawsuit.”

Notes:

chapter two! this one was 8k and is now over 12k... oh this fic is spiralling out of control very quickly!

and as a bonus for this chapter, look at this AMAZING art from hazel / feketeribizli and reo / helcef (who also made the fabulous og spider kimi art) - go send them both so much love for their incredible work!!

art by hazel / feketeribizli

art by reo / helcef

as always, please please please leave comments & kudos too! i love to hear from you guys, it makes writing so much fun to hear what you liked, and what your theories are! also - as an extra little note - race results bahrain and onwards are of my own creation :] i will happily share the table of results on tumblr if you want to keep track!

Chapter 3: Issue 3: Suiting Up

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Monday 21 April 2025

 

The impromptu GPDA meeting has gotten somewhat out of hand.

 

Drivers were meant to be flying home. The triple header is over, they’ve got a week to recoup and collect themselves before flying out to Miami, but before they’re allowed to make their journeys back to their own beds they’ve been summoned by George to discuss the situation. And for a little while, it was a productive discussion about driver safety over breakfast pastries, but it was quickly derailed by Ollie who - in an effort to banter with his teammate - has requested that everyone say where they were on Friday night when the incident in the shopping mall took place.

 

Most drivers were in their hotel rooms, watching scenes unfold from a dozen stories above the ground. Some had still been in the paddock or in the city, and had seen a mysterious figure swinging between the buildings towards the explosions, but Esteban…

 

“I was watching Spiderman,” he reveals.

 

“Keep going!” Ollie grins - obviously having heard this story before.

 

Esteban sighs, but he obliges his younger teammate as the rest of the drivers watch on with mild interest (except for George, who watches on with mild irritation that his meeting has been so thoroughly thrown off course). 

 

“I was doing research,” he insists quietly. “I thought if I went back and rewatched the movies maybe I could start to figure things out. And when Spiderman was fighting the Vulture I thought…” 

 

He keeps speaking, but lowly enough that no one can hear. Ollie, though, is beaming from ear to ear.

 

“Sorry, can you say that again Esteban?”

 

“I thought that the hotel had a really good sound system, and the explosions were the movie.”

 

The statement is met with raucous laughter from the grid, though Kimi has to scramble to join them and play the part. He’s not really thinking about the fact that Esteban was totally oblivious to the situation playing out around him, rather he’s focused on the fact that Esteban is trying to figure things out. Surely he took enough precautions on Friday to hide his identity… He’s only seen blurry videos and photos of himself, even the CCTV footage released from the mall hasn’t been enhanced enough to give away his identity, he should be safe. 

 

Still, he tucks his hands into his pockets to hide the scabs healing from the fight.

 

“Wait,” Pierre laughs heartily. “He was the last one to the paddock in Japan, too. And he was taking a shower in Bahrain after the race.”

 

“He’s never seen the Hornet!” Alex giggles, the realisation dawning on him at the same time it does for the rest of the grid.

 

“He’s the only one that hasn’t seen the Hornet,” Ollie says, pride radiating from him. “He’s the one that wants to meet him the most.” 

 

There’s another round of laughs, and Esteban laughs with them - though Kimi can see in his eyes that he really is dejected by the fact that he hasn’t had the opportunity to meet the villain, or the vigilante hero that he apparently has become. He just wanted to save his father, but he’s become something of a legend and now he’s committing to this: fighting the Hornet and saving lives is as much his job as driving cars at breakneck speeds.

 

“I don’t know why any of you are laughing,” George says. 

 

In order to make it clear that he’s the boss, and regain control of his meeting, he’s leaning against a table rather than sitting in a chair, arms crossed as he looks on at the drivers with a disappointed stare on his face. It works on Kimi, and the rest of the rookies, but not so much Alex and Lando who are immediately giggling in their own little bubble and mimicking George’s expressions and mannerisms. 

 

“We should all take a leaf out of Esteban’s book,” George continues. 

 

Kimi is confused. Esteban doesn’t have a book. And if he does, he doesn’t think Esteban regularly carries around leaves to share amongst the drivers.

 

“Stay in your hotels as much as you can. Obviously I don’t have the power to implement a blanket restriction on your movements, but if you’re going outside go with someone else, or tell people. The Hornet has shown up for every race weekend so far in one way or another, and he’s only pulling more and more dangerous stunts. It’s only a matter of time before one of us is targeted directly.”

 

Kimi has to stifle a laugh - it would bring far too much attention to him.

 

“If you become aware of anything happening, send it in the group chat immediately. Make sure everyone knows, and make sure everyone is accounted for.”

 

“And make sure someone can barricade Esteban in a dark room!” Ollie declares cheerfully.

 

The group laughs again, and George appears to give up with chairing the meeting. As people start to filter out, Kimi offers his teammate a thumbs up and a smile, and George does seem to genuinely appreciate it. He then goes to Ollie’s side, which means on this occasion he’s also at Esteban’s side. The Haas teammates are laughing with each other - clearly there’s no hard feelings about Ollie revealing that he hasn’t seen the Hornet yet - but when Kimi’s approach is clocked there’s a look of solidarity on Esteban’s face.

 

“You didn’t see what happened on Friday either, did you?”

 

Kimi swallows, then nods. He’s never been a great liar. Learning how to fight a supervillain is one thing, but lying? Kimi knows which one he’s more intimidated by. 

 

“No, I was in my hotel room, sleeping,” he repeats the overly rehearsed lie for the umpteenth time that day.

 

“We’ll stick together then,” Esteban declares, wrapping an arm around Kimi’s shoulders.

 

There’s a moment where Kimi swears a darker look crosses Ollie’s face, but that would be ridiculous. Why would Ollie care in the slightest that Esteban has an arm around his shoulders? They’re friends, grid mates, nothing else. 

 

That goes for Esteban and Ollie, no matter what his heart desires.

 

“Do either of you need a ride to the airport?” Esteban asks. “I’ve got a car coming.”

 

And so the three of them are sat in the back of a taxi together, Kimi squished against the window of the passenger seat, Esteban sitting in the middle, obliviously talking about the research he’s done so far and the theories he’s developing for the identity of both the Hornet and the masked vigilante. Kimi wishes it was Ollie’s shoulders he was boxed in by, that it was Ollie’s knee that knocked against his with every bump in the road, but at the same time it’s probably a small mercy that it isn’t. He’s really not sure how he’d be able to hide how that made him feel from Esteban. The bag in his lap would help in the car, but once they’re at the airport…

 

No, maybe the rambling Frenchman is the best travelling companion he could hope for.

 

He just hopes he’ll give up with trying to uncover the true identities of everyone involved before it’s too late.

 

+ + +

 

Brackley, United Kingdom
Wednesday 30 April

 

Time off for Formula 1 drivers is nothing like the time off Kimi is used to. Of course, even in the junior categories he’s always been working, but very little could’ve prepared him for this. He’s had a few days back in Italy, at home, where time off means attending school and scrambling desperately to try and prepare for his exams. Time off means his evenings are full of long distance cycles, rather than debriefs and strategy talk. Time off means he wakes up to his usual alarm not to jump into a car, but to swim a few kilometres in the pool before getting on with his day.

 

Ten days into his time off, Kimi’s back at the factory, in the simulator, preparing himself for a track he’s never been to before. The European leg is on the horizon and at least there he’s familiar with the circuits, but Miami is a brand new beast. 

 

She’s fun, though. He likes driving her. She has a terrible reputation but her curves are flowing and beautiful. Nothing special for overtaking, but wonderful for driving. The simulator is responsive, the car feels quick, Kimi feels good. 

 

His session is cut short, though. A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his focus and he blinks hurriedly, wetting his dried eyes, turning to look to see who’s interrupted him. 

 

“Bono!” He says cheerfully. “Am I doing okay?”

 

Whether it’s Toto, his father, or a teacher, Kimi’s always been a teacher’s pet. Bono is no different.

 

“Great, lad,” he praises. “The boss-man wants you. Said it’s urgent.” 

 

It doesn’t take more than that for Kimi to pull himself out of the simulator, moving his head side to side and stretching his arms high above him. It might not be the same as driving a car, but spending so many hours consecutively in a simulator is still enough to leave his muscles aching.

 

Kimi walks alone to Toto’s office, and there’s none of the usual anxiety that comes with being called urgently to see the man. Normally he’d panic and try to recollect anything he could’ve possibly done wrong over the last few weeks (even if he hasn’t done anything even close to wrong), but today… Today there’s excitement. A warmth in his belly that fuels every step he takes.

 

He’s been promised the world, and he’s daydreaming about the suit and weapons that might be bestowed upon him as he walks through the corridors of the factory.

 

He knocks, twice, before he lets himself in. Sergi is already there, and Kimi enters halfway through a conversation that evaporates into the air the moment both men hear the latch click from the door.

 

“Ciao,” he smiles as he’s acknowledged by both men.

 

His smile is infectious, but neither Toto nor Sergi catch it. Their faces remain cold and steeled, and for a brief moment Kimi does find himself mentally cataloguing everything that’s happened since Jeddah. He hasn’t done anything wrong, or bad. There’s been no PR disaster about him showing up to school late last Thursday, and no story about hanging out with his friends in a field with a bonfire and drinks on Saturday night. Even if there was, he was on Diet Coke. 

 

“This isn’t exciting,” Toto reminds him.

 

It seems that the concern Toto held for him in Jeddah has only had time to blossom over the past ten days.

 

“This is dangerous,” he continues. “You’re eighteen and you feel invincible. You drive the fastest cars in the world like it’s nothing, nothing you do has consequences, nothing can hurt you. But this is different, Andrea.”

Kimi winces reflexively.

 

“The Hornet, the Swarm, they can hurt you. If you do anything stupid, I’ll confiscate the suit and put Valtteri in the car until you can handle this.” 

 

Kimi looks at Sergi, but his trainer has taken his place firmly at Toto’s side. He can’t whine that it’s unfair and expect to have backup, he has to listen to what he’s being told. And what he’s being told isn’t all that unreasonable. He’s just being asked not to get himself killed, and as much as Toto’s right about the fact that he feels invincible, he’d quite like to stay alive. 

 

“You’re mortal, Kimi,” Sergi tells him softly. “Don’t forget that.”

 

The cautions take the edge off Kimi’s excitement, and gradually his expression has fallen until now - the smile completely wiped off his face with the seriousness of the situation. He’s still keen to get his suit, but he knows better than to show it when it’s clear that both men are so deeply concerned for his well being.

 

He has confidence in himself, though. Confidence in his abilities to take on the Hornet and the Swarm. Confidence that’s been seriously bolstered by the fact that he’s being given tools to even the playing field.

 

Toto gets to his feet, wordlessly encouraging the pair to fall into step behind him as they leave his office behind and make their way into the factory. Kimi’s been there plenty of times before, spoken to the team and had tours to watch how the parts of the car are developed, refined, and built, but even he doesn’t know where they’re being taken. The security ramps up the further into the factory they go, escalating from Toto scanning his pass, to typing in a code, to pressing his thumb against a biometric scanner. 

 

When the final door opens, it’s like they’ve stepped into an entirely different world.

 

This part of the factory is much smaller, but the lights are even brighter. There’s machines and technology that Kimi doesn’t recognise, people hard at work testing different materials and sketching out designs. He peers over a shoulder to spot some blueprints for a spider, and he wanders past a prototype of wings. Kimi gawks at it all, gasping with his mouth open wide as he tries to take it all in.

 

Toto leads them into a small room off the side of the main area, and hanging before him is his suit. It’s mostly black, like an overweight Alpine with exposed carbon fibre in a desperate attempt to weight save, though there’s accents too. The legs fade from black to a slight silver with a hexagonal pattern, there’s teal blue highlights on the shoulders, down the side of the leg, and along the arms. Most importantly, of course, is the beautiful silver spider emblem front and centre on the torso. A few further little details, like webs and lines, weave over the rest of the suit. The mask and shoes are rather plain themselves, but he supposes being flashy isn’t going to do him any favours. They tie in nicely with the colours of the rest of the suit, the sole of the boots the same teal as the accents of his suit.

 

“The whole thing is bulletproof and fireproof,” Toto explains to Kimi.

 

He’s doing anything but listening right now, walking forward as he marvels at the suit and outstretching a hand to feel the fabric. 

 

“It’s made to size, it will fit you perfectly. We only had a few days to work on this, but there’s a few features already installed. We’ll bring more, like upgrades for the cars.”

 

In the blink of an eye, Kimi’s stripping down to his underwear and pulling the suit over his body. The feeling isn’t too dissimilar from wearing his fireproofs in the way that it clings to his skin, the fabric inside soft and familiar. It’s cool to the touch, which will serve him well when he’s in the middle of fighting. When he’s stepped into his boots he looks down at himself and frowns a little, noticing one rather crucial flaw.

 

“Eh… It looks a little bit… Mercedes.” 

 

“We’re Mercedes, Kimi,” Toto chuckles. “If you’d like your suit to be less conspicuous, find someone that can make it for you in less than ten days. We’ve repurposed a lot of the technologies that we have on the car, but there’s a few experimental features.”

 

Kimi looks up, deeply interested as he paces the room to get used to the feeling of the heavy steel toed boots. It’s very different to the lightweight race shoes he usually wears, but he quickly finds himself getting accustomed to it. Sergi will probably be delighted that wearing this suit will double as a strength workout.

 

“Here,” Toto says, holding the mask out for him. “It’s going to feel strange at first.”

 

The caution comes with no further explanation, and Kimi has no choice but to trust that Toto has his best interests at heart. He pulls the mask over his head, and it’s similar to his balaclava in the same way that his suit is familiar to his fireproofs. Not quite an identical match, though, given that his mask covers his whole face - eyes and mouth and nose included. He can breathe with ease, but his vision…

 

“Woah! Oh, man!” He laughs heartily.

 

“What do you think?”

 

“Holy shit!” 

 

Kimi spins on his heels, the world whizzing around him when he lands and faces Toto and Sergi once more. Everything he sees is through a blue tint filter, though it’s easy enough to see past that. The weird part is just how much more he sees.

 

“If you have some spider powers, you should have more spider powers,” Toto tells him. “There’s eight cameras, four on either side of your head, generating the image you can see. It will take some getting used to.”

 

In an instant, Kimi proves his point by stumbling over his own feet as he bumps into Sergi. His trainer catches him, helping to balance him, and Toto continues his explanation of all the features.

 

“Take this,” he says next, handing Kimi what appear to be two thick bracelets.

 

He moves instinctively, wrapping them around his wrists and fastening them in place.

 

“These will reinforce your web, give you more control than you would have over how much you’re shooting, and will allow you to support extra weight when you rely on them.”

 

Kimi flexes his wrist on cue, shooting out some web and watching as it attaches itself securely to a ceiling tile. He moves his fingers to investigate just how he goes about cutting the web, relaxing and tightening his muscles as he worked on with Sergi. He feels like he’s mastered the skill since Bahrain, even if it’s only been a couple of weeks. 

 

“And, another thing,” Toto promises with a grin.

 

So much for this not being exciting - he seems just as giddy as Kimi is himself. But then this is nothing short of a revolutionary evolution of wearable technology, of course it’s impossible to appear anything less than enthusiastic about it.

 

“Your hands have an adhesive in the glove.”

Kimi blinks at him, not quite understanding what he’s saying.

 

“You can climb,” Sergi offers a simplified translation.

 

“I can?” Kimi asks.

 

He doesn’t wait for an answer to his question as he steps free of Sergi’s grip and turns to the wall behind them. He places one hand against the smooth surface and in an instant he can feel the grip. It’s like soft tyres on a green track - no matter how illogical it seems, it just works - so he places his other hand there too, a little higher than the first. The next step feels a little more unnerving to take, but like always he places his trust in his machinery, in his team, and he lifts one leg and places the sole of his boot against the wall.

 

That’s nothing spectacular. What is spectacular is that when he lifts his second foot from the floor, he doesn’t fall to the ground.

 

“Holy shit,” he gasps for a second time, the feeling of his body defying gravity bizarre as he gets used to the sensation.

 

Kimi moves his hands higher, alternating back and forth, as he scrambles up towards the ceiling. 

 

“There’s a voice changer too, so people don’t recognise your voice. I think that’s everything,” Toto confirms.

 

“Are you coming down?” Sergi asks. 

 

Kimi shakes his head.

 

“Just make sure you take it off before you leave,” Toto explains. “You can keep it, you’ll need to have it with you if you’re going to put it to good use, but make sure no one sees you walking around the paddock in it. You don’t want to give people more information than you need about who you are.”

 

Kimi nods his understanding, using his hands to move around the ceiling like he’s playing on some monkey bars. The suit seems to be doing a lot of the heavy lifting for him - his shoulders don’t feel anywhere near as fatigued as they should be for how long he’s been hanging around. 

 

“We’re going to do some new training exercises today,” Sergi tells Kimi. “I’ve reviewed the footage we have of you from Jeddah, and I want to teach you some self defence you can use when you’re fighting him. The more you have at your disposal, the easier dealing with this villain is going to be.”

 

The promise of learning something new is enough to entice him down from the ceiling, and as Kimi lets go with his hands his heavy boots bring him back down to earth with a thud. It’s enough of a drop that he’s expecting his knees to feel the impact, but they don’t. He feels fine. Good, even!

 

“Oh, springs in the boots,” Toto adds. “I knew I’d forgotten something.”

 

Kimi pulls off his mask, grinning from ear to ear once again as he realises just how much fun he’s going to have with this thing. The reason why he has it - the enormity of the situation he’s in - will dawn on him in due course. Right now, he’s a teenager with superpowers and some pretty cool kit, he’s going to enjoy it.

 

“Can I make requests?” Kimi asks. “For the upgrades?”

 

Toto raises his eyebrow, but crucially he doesn’t say no. So Kimi continues before he has the chance to turn him down.

 

“I want a gun, and spider legs, and a time machine, oh! What about a plane?! Or rocket boosters? Arrows that explode and grenades and–”

 

“Kimi, Kimi, slow down,” Toto laughs. “This is real life, there’s only so much the team can do for you.”

 

He looks down at himself, at his suit, and he can’t help but wonder where the limitations lie. He certainly doesn’t feel as though there are any right now. Anything he can dream of, the people in the factory should surely be able to make a reality. 

 

“Don’t provoke the Hornet into doing anything you can’t handle. Anything else you get is going to take time, anyway,” he explains.

 

Kimi nods obediently, and Toto places a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Get changed,” he encourages. “You’ve got a flight to catch.”

 

+ + +

 

Miami, United States of America
Thursday 01 May 2025

 

Kimi’s only been in Miami for twenty incredibly jet lagged hours, and most have them have been spent sleeping awfully or performing for the usual Formula 1 media circus, but he’s decided he rather likes the city. It’s hot, it’s sunny, he can surf and swim and lounge about in the sun when he’s not being asked to drive - it’s like paradise. Sure, he’s got a Sprint weekend ahead of him and that means he’s got less time to dial himself in and figure out how the car actually performs at the track, but right now it feels like he’s on holiday. He should be in his hotel room studying, preparing for his exams next month, but instead he’s walking through Miami Gardens with sunglasses on his face and a smoothie in his hand.

 

Ollie’s there too, and maybe his company is the real reason he likes Miami so much.

 

One thing Kimi doesn’t like about Miami, and the United States more generally, is the fact that there’s almost no green space. Walking is almost impossible, with roads and cars prioritised over pedestrians at every juncture, but Greynolds Park is a nice enough spot to wander with Ollie by his side. It’s a refuge for runners, cyclists, and families out for picnics, but it’s still quiet enough that they can keep to themselves.

 

Kimi would really like to reach out and grab Ollie’s hand, but he’s got a smoothie in one and his phone in the other. That’s the only thing stopping him.

 

“I love my teammate,” Ollie starts the conversation - and as ice breakers go that one knocks Kimi for six. “But I really, really don’t understand why he’s so obsessed with the Hornet.” He hums.

 

Okay, not love like that, thank goodness!

 

“Do you think he could be the Hornet?”

 

The accusation adds to the rollercoaster of emotions Kimi’s experiencing throughout the course of this brief exchange. 

 

“He wasn’t French,” Kimi corrects.

 

It’s a terrible thing to say for the sake of keeping his identity a secret, but thankfully for him Ollie doesn’t appear to notice. He’s lucky his friend has never been the most observant of people.

 

“But no one’s seen him and the Hornet together, like ever!” Ollie emphasises. “He was the last to arrive in Japan, he was in the shower in Bahrain, and then he just missed what was happening in Jeddah completely? It’s suspicious! And he won’t stop talking about the Hornet, or the new Spiderman guy. He’s obsessed! I am not overplaying that! It’s clinical at this point. In Practice tomorrow I think Laura’s going to throw herself onto the track, he won’t stop talking about it.” 

 

Kimi, honestly, would rather the conversation with Ollie be about literally anything else. All the drivers have been asked about it in the media pen, and Esteban and Lando have dominated the group chat with their discussions. Kimi can only lie so many times. But he cherishes his time with Ollie no matter what, and he’d rather put up with the topic than cut their brief time together short. 

 

“Maybe neither of them will show up,” he shrugs - knowing just how unlikely that is. “And we shouldn’t be calling him Spiderman. You know how much they hate that.”

 

“He could probably sue Marvel,” Ollie says cheekily. “I mean, can you copyright a real person? I should ask Esteban,” he sighs. 

 

And then his eyes widen and his expression lights up.

 

“Esteban is Spiderman!”

 

Kimi bursts out laughing. Nothing that Ollie has said so far has been something he could anticipate. 

 

“What?!”

 

“If he’s not the Hornet, he must be Spiderman! Oh my God!”

 

“What makes you think that?” He asks, eyebrows so high he’s fairly certain they’re going to hide away in his hairline. 

 

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? He’s got to be one of them.”

 

Kimi wants to deny it, but denying it is a terrible idea. This is the best cover he could possibly ask for! Ollie thinks Esteban is involved, which means he’s not even on his radar. 

 

“Well, you can’t ask him, he’d deny it,” he encourages. “You’ll just have to figure it out yourself.”

 

Ollie nods, and starts planning aloud how he’s going to spy on his teammate. He could sneak into his room and plant a device to record him, he could pay Laura to try and get some information out of him in her role as race engineer, maybe he could just give him peppermint tea and see how he reacts to it. Kimi does try to talk him down from committing actual crimes, but for the most part he lets his friend’s imagination run wild. It’s not dangerous, and it’s actively helping him conceal his own identity. But he can’t stay forever, not when he’s keen on getting some practice in with his suit before the Hornet decides to do something, so eventually he has to cut their time together short.

 

He doesn’t want to, though. Not when he could sit with his elbow on his thigh and his hand on his chin and stare dreamily at Ollie’s lips whilst he speaks. Not when he can daydream about leaning in and…

 

“Kimi!” Ollie waves a hand in front of his eyes to pull him out of his thoughts.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, shaking his head as he focuses. “Sorry, I’m exhausted, the jet lag and the media and–”

 

“It’s okay,” Ollie laughs softly. “I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m tired too.”

 

Kimi smiles at him, dumbstruck with love for his old teammate. He longs to reach out and take his hand, intertwine their fingers together and squeeze tightly, but he can’t. So he doesn’t. 

 

“Do you want to share the Uber?” Ollie offers. “I booked one to my hotel. You’re staying nearby, right?”

 

Kimi nods, and Ollie’s smile widens. His cheeks are tickled pink and Kimi wonders if he could possibly be the one having that effect on him.

 

Unlike Kimi’s half-lie about being tired, Ollie really does seem to be exhausted. They sit and wait for the Uber to arrive in relative quiet and as more time passes, Ollie becomes more and more relaxed beside him. It gets to the point where he has his head on Kimi’s shoulder, and Kimi daren’t breathe. He’s terrified if he moves, Ollie will realise what he’s done and sit back up and the contact will be lost. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the wind through his hair, brown curls blowing back and forth, and he’s desperate to reach out and run his fingers through them… 

 

But he can’t. So he doesn’t.

 

Eventually the Uber arrives and they’re soon on their way back to the hotel. The streets are busy with rush hour traffic, and it takes about an hour to get back to their rooms. Parting ways with Ollie is always a gut wrenching feeling, even if it’s just waving goodbye as Ollie ducks out of the elevator on his floor. Today at least the hurt of a brief goodbye is quickly replaced with excitement, anticipation of what it is he’s about to do. 

 

Kimi makes it to his room and triple checks he’s locked the door behind him before he starts to get ready. 

 

His suit is tucked away in the wardrobe, so he pulls it out and throws it onto the bed. The mask and bracelets follow, before the heavy boots are moved with a little more subtlety. Kimi stares at the gear with a warmth blossoming in his chest, a sense of pride spreading through him. This is his suit, he is a superhero, and right now there’s no danger to replace those feelings with fear. He steps out of his shoes, throws his shorts and shirt against a wall and watches them become a crumpled heap of fabric, before he focuses on getting dressed. Pulling the suit around himself feels wonderful, and he moves his gloved fingers freely. Without Toto and Sergi to judge his reaction he can fully experience the whimsy and childlike joy that was suppressed yesterday. No one’s here to tell him not to be excited, and he is excited. 

 

Kimi sits on the edge of the bed as he pulls his boots on, fastening his bracelets in place next. He can’t help but grab his phone and take a few photos for memory’s sake before tossing it aside - it’s not like he can take it with him after all. 

 

Pockets. Toto needs to add pockets to the suit. 

 

He makes a mental note to put that in his request as he grabs his mask and wanders over to the balcony, pushing open the door and latching it in place so that he can get back into his room without any difficulty later on. It wouldn’t be a great start to hiding his identity if he needed to get a spare key from the front desk.

 

Kimi can smell the ocean air, feel the wind in his hair, and he shivers as he stares out over the city before him. It feels like a movie, and he’s starting to understand why Esteban likes watching those superhero movies so much. 

 

He pulls his mask over his head and reorients himself, taking a moment to get used to his expanded field of vision before he walks to the edge of the balcony and looks over the edge. It’s a weird feeling. He’s so high up that everything in him is screaming to move a bit further back, that he’ll fall and hurt himself, but he’s planning on jumping. Not because he wants to hurt himself, but because he’s going to swing. He looks back up, at the skyscrapers in the distance that make up the skyline of downtown Miami, and he takes a breath.

 

Kimi pushes his hands against the wall and perches on top, swaying back and forth as he searches for his balance. A fall from this height would kill an ordinary person…

 

He stands up tall, arms slightly outstretched to keep himself steady, and he grins behind his mask.

 

One moment he’s standing on the balcony edge, the next he’s taken a step forward and can see the ground hurtling ever closer towards him.

 

Kimi shoots out his web, latching onto a building across the street, and he feels the g-force tug through his entire body as he stops falling and starts swinging. He laughs joyously as he moves through the streets, pulling himself from building to building, slowly but surely becoming more confident with his movements. This isn’t Jeddah, he doesn’t have the Hornet or the Swarm bearing down on him and forcing him to do whatever he needs to do to survive, he’s on his own and can take his time calculating where he wants to shoot his web and cataloguing exactly what happens. 

 

He learns, as he swings further into the city, how different angles catapult him forward. He learns how different tensions of web change how fast he moves, how to handle the changes to his vision and how to control his speed. Inside his mask he pokes his tongue out just slightly, completely absorbed by the task at hand.

 

The buildings around him sparkle like diamonds in the late afternoon sun, waves catching rays and reflecting the light back into his vision. The cameras do a good job of protecting him against the changes to the light level. Kimi finally comes to a halt on top of the Wells Fargo building, slowing his swings and letting his boots take the impact of the landing to protect his knees. He rolls, too, to keep his ankles from suffering any injury. His sister is far more gymnastically inclined, but Kimi just about manages to push himself to his feet without any trouble. He won’t be winning any medals, but it’s enough to do the job.

 

Kimi walks to the edge of the building and looks down from the roof. His gaze travels west, following the veins and arteries of the city - busy highways, a raised metro line, and the meandering Miami river - and then up towards the horizon itself. The sky has been cloudless all day, and that continues now even as the perfect blue begins to fade to orange and pink. It’s windy up here, and Kimi dares to take his mask off so he can feel that wind on his face. It’s a wonderful feeling, more freeing than anything he’d ever imagined, and he smiles to himself. 

 

He knows, deep down, that it won’t always be like this. It might never be like this again. He wants to enjoy the powers he’s spent so many years hiding, though. He wants to be himself, truly and completely, without fear of repercussion. 

 

But the longer he sits without his mask on, the more likely it is that someone is going to spot him and get a photo of him, and even this far above the street there’s a danger that he might be recognised.

 

Kimi reluctantly covers his face once more, climbing the wall with his gloves and placing his trust entirely in his webs as he throws himself over the side and starts to swing. His muscles are itching to be used more than just swinging back and forth though, so he starts to experiment with height. He flings himself high into the air towards the setting sun and laughs as he free falls, then he reattaches his web and swings under bridges and skirts the traffic below. The adrenaline is addicting - he wouldn’t be a Formula 1 driver if it wasn’t - but he finds himself coming to an abrupt stop as he swings over a park and hears the sound of a little girl screaming.

 

He’s sure people are looking at him - it’s pretty much been a guarantee since he started swinging so much lower - but that’s not a scream of excitement. It’s also, thankfully, not the scream of being exploded by a mechanical ‘bee’. Once he’s landed he turns on his heels to find the source of the sound, jogging down the little gravel path to see what the problem is.

 

It doesn’t take him long to find the upset child, blubbering as tears fall from her eyes as she stares up at a tree in front of her.

 

Kimi turns his head, and in the tree is a small animal. Not a cat - that would’ve been far too cliché - but instead, a small dog. Kimi didn’t even know dogs could climb trees, but sure enough the dog is up there, lead tangled in branches as it cowers in amongst the leaves.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kimi asks, crossing to the little girl and kneeling down in front of her.

 

There’s dozens of cameras on him, filming and taking photos, and he hopes that the voice changer works as well as Toto suggests it does. 

 

“Duke’s in the tree!” She weeps sadly, looking up at Kimi with big, sad eyes. “He got scared by some noises a-a-and he pulled too hard on his l-l-lead!”

 

Kimi nods his head, looking up at the dog. It’s a much easier task than fighting the Hornet, so he’s not at all concerned about his ability to save the day on this occasion. 

 

“It’s okay,” Kimi reassures her. “I’ll get him down for you. What’s your name?”

 

“M-Mary,” she sniffles.

 

“You stay there, Mary,” he says gently. “I’ll save Duke.”

 

He reaches out carefully with one hand, using a finger to wipe the tears from the girl’s cheeks, before he approaches the tree and climbs. His hands stick to the bark just as well as they did the walls, and he makes swift work of lifting himself up from the ground. It’s only a few seconds before he’s joining Duke in the canopy of the trees, sitting beside the petrified puppy on the branch and carefully unwinding the lead.

 

“Mamma Mia, eh?” He mutters softly, talking to Duke and Duke alone. “You don’t have to be scared.”

 

He leans over, extending a hand to scratch behind Duke’s ears affectionately, his hand ready to catch the dog at a moment's notice if he panics and tries to escape again. But Duke is an obedient little puppy when he isn’t being scared, and once Kimi’s managed to safely retrieve his lead he easily comes to his arms. 

 

“Good boy,” he praises, shifting to hold the dog carefully against his chest. 

 

He switches hands with the lead, and uses his left hand to attach some web to the branch they’re sitting on. With the web secured, he can lower himself down to the ground in a slow and controlled manner, bending down when he lands to place Duke back onto the grass. The crowd that have gathered around to watch applaud his less than heroic efforts, and Mary runs to wrap her arms around his waist.

 

Kimi pats the top of her head with his free hand, before letting her take the lead again.

 

“Hold on tight,” he tells her gently, watching her squeeze the lead as tightly as she can so it won’t slip loose once more.

 

“Thank you, Spiderman,” she smiles up at him, and Kimi resists the urge to sigh.

 

“Please don’t call me Spiderman,” he insists. “They’ll sue me for that.”

 

The crowd laughs at him, which could so easily go to his head, but before they get the chance to mob him with questions Kimi decides to make a hasty exit. He starts to swing, heading back to his hotel as quickly as he can. Unsurprisingly, it’s quicker to travel like this than it is to be in a car stuck in endless miles of congestion, and he’s made it back to his room with relative ease. 

 

He lands on the balcony and quickly ducks into his room, closing the sliding door behind him and drawing the curtains so no one can peek inside if they’ve spotted him landing. Kimi turns on a light and pulls his mask off, shaking his head and removing his boots. He’ll take off his suit in a minute, but for now he just grabs his phone and throws himself onto his bed. There’s a dozen notifications or so from the rookie group chat, almost entirely from Ollie and Isack.

 

[🧸♥️] este didnt show up for the team dinner and now theres videos of spiderman in miami
[🧸♥️] im not saying its a coninciencde im just saying

 

There’s a discussion about the videos in question, so Kimi sends a message to offer his two cents for no reason other than Ollie to keep him off his suspect list. If he’s taking part in conversations when the hero has been spotted, and Esteban is seemingly missing in action from his team duties, then he’s going to remain an entirely neutral party in this whole affair.

 

Eventually he does get up to shower and change into pyjamas, stuffing his suit into his rucksack to take with him to the track tomorrow - just in case - and he spends the evening scrolling through the videos and posts about him online. Not that anyone knows they’re about him. He’s careful not to like anything, making sure there’s no trace of his investigative work, but the praise bolsters his confidence. People like him, people support him, and that’s really all that matters. 

 

He goes to bed with his heart full and his confidence high. With only one Practice session tomorrow, it’s exactly what he needs going into the weekend.

 

+ + +

 

Miami, United States of America
Saturday 03 May 2025

 

They’re three sessions into the weekend. Kimi’s adapting well enough to Miami, a P5 in the Sprint gives him a few more points (even if it’s nothing compared to George’s win), but he’s warmed up to the circuit now and he’s ready for a proper Qualifying session later on. At least he doesn’t have any extra media duties, he can just sneak off to be weighed without people paying much attention to him. It’ll be a quick debrief with Bono to look at the data, though only where he’s made mistakes. They’ll save the full debrief for after Qualifying and take their learning into the Grand Prix tomorrow. 

 

He’s barely got enough time to shower, eat lunch, and warm up again for another competitive session as it is, the last thing he needs is more on his plate.

 

Kimi appreciates the squeeze on the shoulder his father gives him, the thumbs up from Susie as he passes her in the corridor, and the handshake from Bono as he praises his overtake on Max in the last corner - bold, brave, and frankly audacious. Sergi takes his helmet from him, patting him on the back and offering words of praise of his own. It’s a nice feeling to have so much support around him.

 

A nice feeling, at least, until it’s replaced with something else.

 

His wrist tingles.

 

Kimi’s eyes widen for a split second before he fights to get his expression back under control. He needs to get out, and fast. He waits impatiently, no longer paying any attention to Bono as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and waits for an opportunity. An opportunity that comes when George enters the garage, P1, and the mechanics and engineers erupt in cheers and applause. 

 

In the excitement, Kimi ducks his head and darts out of the back of the garage before breaking into a run towards his driver room. The gap between sessions is so short that everyone is too busy to really acknowledge him, so he can run through hospitality without question. As soon as he’s in his room, slamming the door shut behind himself, he grabs his bag and tries to multitask stripping out of his race suit and climbing into his super suit. He’s got his super suit over his torso and his race suit still at his waist when he hears knocking at his door.

 

Kimi freezes, cursing over and over in his head. Now is not the time to get caught.

 

“Kimi, you in there?” 

 

George, of course his teammate would be looking for him. He doesn’t move a muscle, though. Doesn’t reply. He hopes that silence will be enough for George to give up and go look elsewhere. At the very least, he doesn’t knock a second time, and when Kimi can hear footsteps retreating through the paper thin walls around him he resumes getting changed. 

 

Kimi grabs his mask from his bag as he steps into his boots, moving across the small room to grab the charms on the side of the table. They can’t come with him, but a quick squeeze of the car and the teddy bear makes him feel more confident in whatever is about to happen. It’s going to be harder than saving a puppy from a tree, that much he knows.

 

He stands by the door for a moment, listening carefully to whatever is going on outside his room. This is the most crucial moment in the whole escape. If someone sees him leaving Mercedes hospitality his cover is blown. He has to get out of the paddock without being spotted, but the feeling in his wrist is intensifying and there’s no time to take proper care. He just has to go. 

 

Kimi snatches the bracelets from the side and affixes them to himself as he sneaks out of the room, keeping low to not attract any attention as he sneaks out of hospitality, before raising one arm high above his head and shooting out his web to anchor himself to the roof of the stadium. He pulls himself up, rocketing towards the sky, and starts to swing as fast as he can in the direction that his gut is sending him. 

 

With the practice he’s had so far, moving under duress is much less cat in a bath and more fish out of water. He’s getting the hang of things, but it’s certainly easier to swing when the stakes are lower. Figuring out how to balance the pressure is going to be the key to succeeding - both on and off track - and he swears he can hear Bono in his ears as he thinks that.

 

Pinpointing exactly where he needs to go is more difficult, too. His gut gives him a direction, but without the phone call from his father and the explosions that guided him in Jeddah it’s hard to narrow it down. He follows his instincts generally north, trying his best to block out the panic that threatens to cloud his mind and just focusing on the feeling.

 

He closes his eyes and tries to visualise it.

 

A few deep breaths taken as he swings through the air, ironically, is enough to ground him in his senses and help guide him towards the answer. The answer, though, is one he’d really rather was wrong.

 

Fort Lauderdale Airport.

 

His heart sinks. The possibilities of what the Hornet could be getting up to at an airport of all places fill his mind, but he has to try and shake those thoughts away. He needs to keep his focus, he needs to be in a useful state when he arrives. If he loses himself to a spiral of what ifs, he’ll be too frazzled to make a difference. His job is to get there, assess the situation, and act accordingly.

 

Kimi slows his swings down as he gets closer, focusing his vision on the air traffic control tower. It’s an awful lot smaller than the office building he’d landed on a few nights ago, which makes calculating his depth and closing speed an awful lot harder. He braces for impact, skidding across the roof and just about coming to a stop before he falls off the end. The suit has at least taken the bulk of the shock for him and he can quickly spring back to his feet, looking out over the runways to start piecing together what’s happened.

 

For one of the busiest airports in the world, everything seems quiet. Nothing is landing, nothing is taking off. It gives Kimi hope that - at the very least - someone has noticed whatever it is the Hornet is doing and he’s just taking on a supporting role in keeping people safe. Kimi swallows as he watches for any sign of activity, nerves building inside of him like he’s being strangled by his own webs. 

 

Eventually there’s movement on the horizon. A large plane with a United Airlines livery fills him with dread. It’s almost certainly a civilian flight, and if it’s full then there could be hundreds of innocent men, women and children on board. Kimi certainly doesn’t need an incentive to act quickly, but the knowledge of just how many lives are at stake propels him forwards. He shoots off a web and starts to swing again, towards the airport proper, trying desperately to come up with a plan.

 

He lands on top of the plane before he comes up with that plan, though calling it a landing is generous. He slips and slides on the moving surface, stumbling and losing his balance, and only barely keeps from falling off the fuselage by catching himself with his hands and sticking to the body of the jet. As his entire body jerks to a halt he groans, and he hopes that the pilot of the plane feels the jolt and stops for safety’s sake. Surely the sensation of a person landing on top of the plane is enough to force them to return to their gate and perform a safety check. But then, if the Hornet really is on board, there’s every chance that safety has been well and truly thrown out the window.

 

In that case, Kimi has to be an awful lot more proactive in finding a way to stop the plane. 

 

He hopes he’s gotten his assessment of the situation correct, because he really doesn’t want to test the limitations of how bulletproof the suit is so early in his superhero career. The American military won’t be asking about his noble intentions if the Hornet is nowhere to be found: he’ll be captured, unmasked, and have a bullet through his brain in the time it takes to say ‘please don’t sue me, Marvel!’. 

 

Kimi forces that from his mind and refocuses on the task at hand. He grunts as he pulls himself to the centre of the plane, getting back to his feet as the vehicle keeps taxiing and slowly making his way along the length of it. He jumps down onto the wing, steel toed boots helping keep him stable as it flexes beneath him, and he crouches down to peer through the windows. It’s of little surprise that there are people looking back at him, and even with his tinted vision he can see the whites of their eyes. They’re afraid, and if his online reputation is anything to go by then he can rest assured they aren’t scared of him. 

 

The plane hasn’t stopped taxiing yet, and they’re getting closer and closer to the end of the runway. If it takes off, there’s no guarantee at all that Kimi can stop the Hornet from whatever he’s planning on doing and keep these people safe. What he needs to do is stop the plane, and the most logical way to do that is to stop the wheels from turning. How he can do that escapes him, but it’s not enough to stop him from moving to the back of the wing and taking advantage of his adhesive gloves to drop down and hang underneath. The engine beside him is roaring and he can feel how disturbed the air is - like trying to follow a car through the Esses in Suzuka - and an awful lot of his energy goes into trying to keep himself from being sucked up and spat out. 

 

A bulletproof suit doesn’t mean a plane engine proof suit. That would be a dreadfully messy experiment, and he isn’t sure he’d be around to interpret the results.

 

Oddly enough, Kimi’s never been that close to a plane landing gear before. He’s never really given them much thought whenever he’s climbed aboard a plane. Now, though, he’s looking at them and cursing how robust they look. It’s great for safety, but right now it’s the bane of his existence. He stares at the ground beneath him and takes note of just how close they are to the end of the taxiway. There’s no time to think of another plan, and Kimi can only hope that Toto’s had the reinforcement abilities of his bracelets strong enough to stop a moving plane. 

 

What are the odds?

 

He drops down from the wing and lands on the tarmac below, shooting out webs to wrap around both tyres of the nearest landing gear. The plane still trundles along at first and Kimi feels himself being pulled with it. Funnily enough, the training to be a Formula 1 driver doesn’t extend to single-handedly stopping a Boeing 737. He can’t let himself become dismayed though, he has to keep trying. He digs his boots into the ground as firmly as he can and tugs with all of his might, feeling the webs pulling from his wrist further and further. Even knowing that fear and adrenaline help him produce more of the substance, it still feels as if he’s being drained completely dry. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

 

As the plane starts to turn, Kimi comes to an abrupt halt as his web snaps. He stumbles, falling to the ground and feeling dreadfully faint. His breathing is heavy, but the plane is still moving. 

 

He’s failed at the first hurdle.

 

Kimi closes his eyes as he feels a wave of disappointment wash over him - just for a moment: he can’t give up on these peoples’ lives so easily. 

 

The ground beneath him shakes, and Kimi’s eyes snap open as he looks back up.

 

Embedded in the ground beside him, just narrowly missing him, is the left wing of the plane. It’s still. The wing has cracked and is leaking fuel onto the taxiway, but somehow - mercifully - the plane has come to a complete stop. A quick examination of the landing gear gives him all the explanation he needs. As the plane turned, the web had tangled, and the wheel had gotten stuck. Extra power did nothing but exacerbate the problem. 

 

The Hornet can’t get the plane into the sky, which is a relief, but the plane still needs to be emptied before a spark blows the whole thing up.

 

He darts out of the way of the fuel flowing from the wing, not particularly wanting to coat himself in such a flammable substance (even with the promise of a fireproof suit), and emerges on the other side to the sight of emergency exits opening, slides inflating, and passengers disembarking. The cabin crew are doing everything they can to get these people to safety, which gives him one less thing to worry about. 

 

Kimi keeps out of their way and starts to climb up the wing instead, having to squeeze past a flight attendant to haul himself onto the plane and push past the queue of people trying to get off. He moves himself down the aisle, the smell of kerosene filling his nostrils as he works his way forwards. The plane is emptying quickly, and with the swift evacuation Kimi is able to make it to the cockpit without any obstruction.

 

He reaches to open up the door, but before he can put a hand to it it flies off the hinges and sends him stumbling back into the front row of seats. Kimi shakes his head, briefly bamboozled, and blinks a few times until the Hornet comes into focus in front of him. The villain tilts his head, mechanical pincers moving back and forth menacingly as he speaks.

 

“I’ve got your attention now, haven’t I, little spider?”

 

Kimi looks on in horror as the Hornet takes a step closer to him, those sharp pincers looking particularly dangerous as he leans down to where Kimi is backed against the seat, before a noise from the back of the plane catches both their attention. 

 

The plane is shifting, off balance from the crash, and the leaking fuel is threatening to catch fire. 

 

The Hornet doesn’t waste a second, turning quickly and throwing himself out the nearest door and down the emergency slide. Kimi’s on his feet in a flash and following him as fast as he can, though when he reaches the bottom of the slide he becomes acutely aware that the Hornet isn’t standing beside him. In fact, he isn’t standing anywhere at all.

 

He’s flying. 

 

On his back, two mechanical wings are beating harshly against the air to keep him afloat. The sound of sirens as emergency vehicles approach the plane offer the Hornet no distraction at all as he flies away, but Kimi isn’t going to let himself fall foul of such inattentiveness either. No matter how exhausted he is becoming, and how empty he feels, he forces himself to give chase to the villain. He shoots out his webs to pursue him through the airport. As the Hornet flies onto the roof of one of the terminals, Kimi uses his webs to launch himself into the air after him. They both land and the chase becomes a foot race - something that Kimi just about has the edge on. 

 

The Hornet throws himself over some vents and Kimi does the same, diving after him and trying desperately to close the gap. He feels like he’s close enough to be within DRS range, if he could just charge his battery he’d have everything he needed…

 

“Hey!” He yells, because as much as he wants to catch the villain and stop him he wants answers too.

 

He wants to know who he is, what his motive is, why he’s gone from directly attacking the races to targeting civilians too. The few words on the plane might offer some explanation there, but it’s not enough. There’s still more that he doesn’t know and it’s utterly infuriating.

 

But the Hornet isn’t one for conversation. He’s jumping off the edge of the roof and flying once more, carrying himself over to a multi-storey car park. Kimi isn’t going to let this chase end so soon, so he shoots out his webs again and follows him. He’s growing more and more weary with every step, adrenaline alone not enough to drive him right now.

 

Not only is he struggling to produce enough web to follow him, but he’s losing ground too. The Hornet is rounding corners and descending through the levels faster than Kimi can close the gap to him. He’s back out of DRS, he’s burned too much rubber, he’s out of grip. Whatever metaphor he uses, it doesn’t change the situation at hand.

 

And that situation is that the Hornet has the upper hand.

 

Kimi’s practically come to a walking pace as he rounds a corner and finds himself face to face with the Hornet, but the villain is no longer alone. Surrounding him are a dozen of his mechanical ‘bees’, and Kimi has the sense to duck behind a car to break the line of sight and shield himself. 

 

There’s hurried footsteps as he does, which makes it clear that the Hornet is more interested in getting away than he is in fighting. Maybe he senses that his advantage isn’t as strong as he thought it would be, or maybe he just doesn’t want to stick around as the military descend upon the airport, but it spurs Kimi on. He needs to get out of this trap as soon as possible. Even if he feels like he’s got nothing left to give, the Hornet might have even less than him.

 

He closes his eyes to focus on the sounds around him. Kimi can’t see the ‘bees’ right now, but he can hear their buzzing as they move through the car park. It ebbs and flows as the ‘bees’ move back and forth, patrolling the area to keep Kimi from escaping, but their fatal flaw is in the detail of their movements. The longer Kimi listens, the more he can recognise the pattern they’re following. Every twenty seconds there’s a gap - and even if it’s short it’s long enough for him to make a daring escape. He can shoot his web, drag himself to the other side of the car park, and escape before he’s caught. He doesn’t want to think about how big of an explosion there’d be if one of those drones exploded in a building filled with petroleum, diesel, and electric batteries. With the airport’s emergency responders focused on the crashed plane there’d be no one to drag his crushed body until long after his fireproof suit had melted and his body had been charred beyond any recognition.

 

If he’s going to die, he needs to wait until after the race weekend is over. Mercedes can’t just sub in Valtteri now.

 

Kimi listens for the gap once more, and as it closes he begins to count. When he reaches nineteen, he jumps into action. It takes a second for him to move his body out from behind the car and fire his web across the car park, and it means he’s made his way across the entire length of the structure within a handful of seconds. By the time he’s climbing over the wall and dropping down into the foliage below, his time is up, but he hasn’t been caught.

 

His heart is racing with just how close of a call that was, and he knows the logical decision right now is to leave. He needs to get back to the paddock, eat his lunch, and start to get ready for a Qualifying session. But Kimi makes no move to leave as he begins to run through the airfield, using his gloves to ascend another terminal building to get the height that he needs to perch and observe his surroundings. 

 

Sitting atop Terminal 1, he lets his suit do the work for him. The extra vision the multiple cameras provide him with makes it much easier to spot movement and as such there’s no issue at all in identifying the Hornet across the north runway. He’s flying towards the cargo hangers - thankfully away from the places full of people - and Kimi begins his pursuit all over again. He shoots out another web, exhausting himself further, but he’s making good progress towards the villain. The closer he gets, the more conscious he becomes of every sound he makes. Every grunt and groan feels like it might alert the Hornet to the fact that he’s being tailed, even the sound of his suit against the wind feels as though it’s going to be loud enough to take away the element of surprise, but Kimi just focuses on the fact that he’s closing the gap. His swinging is faster than the Hornet’s flying, and he’s getting closer, closer, closer…

 

He cuts his webs and uses the momentum he’s gained to dive forwards, cutting through the air with marginally more precision than a child using a slingshot, and he manages to position his arms so that when he collides with the Hornet he can wrap himself around the villain. Kimi holds on as tightly as he possibly can as the Hornet begins to plummet towards the ground - wings not at all calibrated for such a sudden increase in load. He recovers quickly, mechanical wings whirring away as they beat faster and restabilise the pair above the parked planes. The Hornet looks down and catches his gaze, and despite his best efforts trying to shake Kimi off his hold is far too secure for that to work.

 

Kimi tries to shimmy further up his body, but it’s hopeless. He’d need his hands on the metal exoskeleton to be able to do that, and as it is his hold is more like an embrace. The Hornet is having none of the attempt to climb him, though, and angles himself down to fly lower and lower. The tarmac is racing towards them and Kimi is left with no choice but to let go at the last moment. He barely has a second to react before he’s sliding across the ground, scraping his mask and suit as he goes. It’s a shock to the system, but he’s protected from any kind of substantial injury.

 

By the time he manages to pick himself back up, the Hornet has landed in front of him. It’s the first time he’s been so close to him with enough time to actually grasp the situation. They’re a similar height, but the Hornet’s suit gives him an extra layer of intimidation. Kimi has to keep himself from swallowing and making a show of just how nervous he is.

 

Rather than show his fear, he opts to go boldly in the opposite direction. Cockiness.

 

“What the fuck are you doing, eh?!”

 

The Hornet tilts his head curiously, and even without an expression on his face for Kimi to read he can tell he’s staring at him and wondering where on Earth he got his reckless courage from. 

 

“Mate,” Kimi steps forwards, reaching out a hand and pushing against his chest. “You could’ve killed–!”

 

He’s cut off mid sentence as a gloved hand wraps itself around his throat. Kimi’s feet leave the ground, not of his own volition, and he feels his body move backwards as he’s carried towards the nearest building. Kicking his legs does nothing to help him wriggle free, and it just wastes precious oxygen that he’s quickly being starved of as fingers close around his windpipe. He tries a new tactic, attempting to lift his legs with what little energy he has left and kick at the Hornet’s chest, but that too proves to be a fruitless endeavour. Surely there’s got to be a solution out there, there has to be a way to overpower him! The Hornet can’t be all powerful!

 

…

 

Could the Hornet be all powerful?

 

If he makes it out alive, Kimi makes a mental note to pin down Esteban and quiz him on everything he knows about supervillains. 

 

His thoughts return to the present moment as his back is pressed against corrugated iron and the Hornet graciously relaxes his grip on his throat. He’s lowered slightly, the tips of his toes just about touching the ground.

 

“If I were you,” he snarls. “I’d go back to racing, little spider.”

 

The same recognition from before creeps into the back of Kimi’s mind, and it’s beyond frustrating. He knows this voice, but with the morphing it’s impossible to properly identify who the Hornet could be. It’s on the tip of his tongue, and he wants to curse for how close he is to solving this mystery.

 

That thought is quickly replaced by the sudden cognizance that the Hornet knows who he is enough to tell him to go back to racing, and now he wants to curse because Sergi was clearly correct. The one quip in Jeddah was enough for the Hornet to pick up on his Italian accent, and that was enough for the Hornet to correctly identify him. Great! Cool! Amazing!

 

As he’s bracing for the worst, the Hornet’s grip around his neck disappears completely and Kimi falls to the ground. He watches on as the villain turns away, wings fluttering briefly before beating with force and carrying him off. He’s left behind, watching on with a stunned expression behind his mask, and he considers getting back up to chase him again. But why do that? He’s exhausted, he doesn’t have the strength or the advantage he needs to apprehend him, and he needs to get back to the circuit before Qualifying. Until he has upgrades and the tools he needs to properly fight this villain, the best he can do is just try and keep people safe without getting himself killed.

 

Coming away from a conversation with the Hornet - however brief - with more questions than answers is frustrating though, and Kimi puts his hands over his face as he gets to his feet. He lets out a shout of frustration and kicks the wall behind him.

 

And in the moment of distraction, he hears a few tiny beeps before a ‘bee’ beside him detonates. 

 

The chain reaction it sets off is incredible. One moment everything is normal, and the next the world is a fireball. A fuelled, but thankfully empty, plane explodes and the force of the blast sends Kimi stumbling backwards. Even with the protections of the suit it’s not a pleasant experience, a wave of heat enveloping him and a cloud of smoke leaving him disoriented. His ears ring from the deafening sound of the explosion and he stands dumbfounded, watching fuel leak out onto the tarmac and the fire spread from the remains of the fuselage to the building he’s standing beside. Debris rains down - ranging from large hunks of metal to fragments of glass - narrowly missing Kimi as it falls to the ground. The cloud of smoke quickly becomes a thick, black plume that entirely blocks out the sun and the fire threatens to grow even more out of control.

 

No one is here anymore, just him. No one is actively in danger anymore, just him. Firefighters will arrive on the scene eventually and the last thing Kimi wants is to be caught here, so he makes a move to retreat as soon as his head has stopped spinning. His body might be tired, but the prospect of being found (and the prospect of dying) is enough to push through the wall of fatigue he’s feeling and swing back towards the circuit.

 

Sneaking back to Mercedes hospitality is easier than sneaking out. There’s no surprise at all that word of the events at the airport have spread, that sightings of the Hornet and ‘Spiderman’ have been reported, and personnel are all safely sheltering in their respective hospitality suites. There isn’t a single eye on Kimi as he makes his way through the paddock, and when the door to his driver room clicks shut behind him he’s got just over an hour and a half until Qualifying starts. 

 

Just enough time to nap, or eat lunch, or scroll on his phone and procrastinate what he really should be doing.

 

Shit. His phone. Kimi grabs it from the side and opens up the GPDA group chat to confirm that he’s safely in his driver room, and he quickly skims back through the previous messages that have been sent. He’s late to the party, but by no means the last person to confirm his whereabouts. That person, naturally, is Esteban Ocon. 

 

Ollie’s already blowing up the rookie chat with his conspiracy theory, and Kimi leaves him to it.

 

He changes out of his suit and throws it haphazardly to the side before he collapses onto the desperately uncomfortable bed in the corner of his room (though right now it feels like it’s made of goose feathers and silk), running his fingers through his hair as he stares at the ceiling and brainstorms a thousand different gadgets and gizmos he’s going to request Toto have made for him. If the Hornet can fly, he wants to fly. If the Hornet has his Swarm, then he wants an equivalent! He wants some kind of super pasta, a tortellini that fills him up and gives him the energy he needs to fight the Hornet without any caloric intake that causes him to gain weight and invokes the wrath of Bono as the engineering team suddenly has to change how the ballasts in his car are spread out. 

 

Kimi licks his lips as he thinks about pasta, and his stomach rumbles to remind him that this is the only chance he’s got to eat until dinner tonight. He sits back up and looks around, spotting the salad bowl he assumes Sergi has left on the side for him. He reaches for it, throwing the plastic lid to one side as he hungrily stabs at the chicken and lettuce and fills his mouth. Just as he’s about to zone out and enjoy his meal there’s a knock at the door.

 

Whoever dares come between him and his food is a far worse villain than the Hornet could ever hope to be.

 

But he still gets up, and he still opens the door, and he regrets his thoughts immediately. It’s Ollie, and Kimi’s face lights up in an instant.

 

“Hey, mate,” he grins. 

 

Ollie wanders into the room without any further invitation, sitting almost directly next to the mask that Kimi had thrown aside just a few minutes ago. He has to move it subtly, hoping against all the odds that his friend will just assume it’s his balaclava instead of the highly technical piece of kit it really is.

 

For the second time that weekend, Kimi is blessed by Ollie’s terrible awareness. He’s far too busy rambling about further evidence that Esteban is ‘Spiderman’, and Kimi makes no move to correct him. He just sits beside him, focusing on his own lunch as he’s forced to look at footage that’s already ended up on social media. Some of him swinging through the streets of the city en route to the airport, but some of the plane too. Unlike the footage from Jeddah, everything is crystal clear. If even one stray curl isn’t tucked into his mask then it’s going to be out there for the whole world to see, and Toto’s words of caution about keeping himself hidden feel even more real now.

 

At least he looks cool. Cooler than he looked with his golf club and wok. 

 

“Has Esteban messaged you yet?” He asks, and Ollie shakes his head. 

 

“Too busy stopping the Hornet hijacking a plane,” he explains, gesturing to his phone. “The airport is practically on fire now,” he adds, scrolling to find some more videos to prove his point.

 

“Mate, I know, I already saw the smoke!” Kimi exclaims, trying to match his friend’s enthusiasm, but he just gets an odd look in return.

 

“You did? I thought we were too far away?” 

 

Kimi grimaces. This isn’t the way to keep himself off Ollie’s suspect list! 

 

“I mean, on Instagram,” he offers as an explanation. “I was eating my lunch before you barged in, eh?” He points out, waving around his half eaten salad bowl to make his point.

 

“I didn’t barge,” Ollie corrects him. “I knocked. Besides, I wanted to congratulate you on more points. I’ve not seen you since our date on Thursday and–”

 

Kimi doesn’t hear how that sentence ends, mind entirely short-circuiting at the word Ollie just used.

 

Date? 

 

Thursday was a date? 

 

“Eh?!” He just about manages to spit out through his disbelief.

 

Ollie seems to realise at the exact same moment what he’s said, face turning bright red with embarrassment. Kimi wants to say something more, wants to ask for clarification about whether or not that was a mistake or if he meant it, but he doesn’t have the opportunity to do that. Ollie is getting to his feet and rushing towards the door.

 

“Enjoy your lunch,” he says hurriedly. “I’ll see you in Q3, good luck for the rest of the weekend mate!” 

 

Kimi’s left with his jaw slack, mouth wide open as his friend disappears. The door clicks shut behind him and Kimi places his salad beside himself as he rubs at his eyes and pinches his skin. This can’t be real. Being ‘Spiderman’ is something he can comprehend, but Oliver Bearman accidentally calling their hangout session a date?!

 

How is he supposed to go out and qualify when that bombshell has been dropped at his feet?!

Notes:

this chapter is over 12.7k and last week it was 6.3k... oh i'm in DANGER. do you know who else is in danger, though? kimi. of either being exploded by the hornet or by imploding from prolonged exposure to oliver bearman. home race next time out - i can assure you it goes so much better for fictional kimi (but there's a price to pay for that, teehee!)

as always, please please please share your thoughts in the comments below or come over to tumblr to say hi! i always love when you guys talk to me about this au so thank you for the comments you've already left and please don't think i don't cherish them & you <3

Chapter 4: Issue 4: Bumblebee

Imola, Italy
Wednesday 14 May 2025

 

The weight of this day has rested heavily on Kimi’s shoulders for… Months, really - since before his contract was announced. From the moment George’s car had hit the barriers at Parabolica and Kimi’s whole body had been shaken with a force more than fifty times that of gravity, he’d been thinking about it. Hoping for it, dreading it, fearing it. It’s finally here, and he can’t quite hide how shaky his breathing is as he makes his way through the paddock.

 

Tomorrow is media day. Friday, Saturday and Sunday will make up the meat of the weekend. Today is about getting his bearings, figuring out the lay of the land. There’s a track walk, countless meetings with his team about run plans and strategies and VIPs that will be in the paddock. He’s got a busy schedule, as he often does, and barely has time to wave to the other drivers as he wanders towards Mercedes hospitality. 

 

It’s not just the fact that this is his home race that’s looming large over him, but the fact that hidden in his room in the motorhome is a message. A note from Lewis. Handwritten, heartfelt, long discussed in vague terms but never in any detail. So of course he doesn’t even have the mercy of walking into his room alone and making himself comfortable, doing a few breathing exercises and preparing for a career defining weekend in his own way. He’s trailed by the Mercedes social media team, a camera trained on his back as he pushes open the door to his room and performs for what should be a private, personal moment of reflection. 

 

The eyes are always watching him. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it.

 

So he performs, like he’s been trained to do. It comes to him more naturally now. Lying more often about his excursions to his friends and family has helped refine his skill.

 

“The famous, famous message,” he tells the camera as he places his bag and coat down on the side.

 

When he leans forward to brace himself against the windowsill he still finds himself under careful watch. Moving from behind him to beside him, the camera offers the message a sense of secrecy whilst Kimi’s face is recorded. Everything he does will be analysed from the world, and that makes it difficult to be wholly authentic. 

 

He half reads the message before he reacts, leaning back with a smile and a sigh in the hopes that he’ll meet the expectations of the world.

 

“Thanks, Lewis,” he smiles and nods. “Really nice.”

 

Crocodile tears for the camera as he does what’s needed for the social team, and before long he gets a thumbs up as they finish their recording and leave him to prepare for his day. Only when the door is closed does he allow himself to really read what’s been written, locking the door to ensure that this brief glimmer of solitude isn’t interrupted by his teammate, or trainer, or engineer, or anyone. 

 

Kimi bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes slowly glance over the words, tongue poking out between his lips. He feels his eyes sting, his vision blurs as he reaches the end of the message, and with no one watching him he lets himself have a real moment of emotion. Nothing drastic - he rubs at his eyes before any tears can be shed - but his heart feels like it’s been protected. He supposes it makes sense - the message would’ve been written shortly after his brief FP1 appearance where he’d demonstrated to the world he was messy and flawed. A tapestry of imperfections. Of course the message would feel like a shield against everything he’s done wrong. 

 

Kimi doesn’t know when his hands dug into his pockets, when his fist closed around the charms, but he knows he sniffles and shakes his head when he releases them from his grip and tries to focus on the task at hand.

 

He’s got a long weekend ahead of him. The media obligations that come with a home race are beyond his most twisted nightmares, and just looking at his schedule exhausts him. He pushes aside the fact that it’s the start of a triple header and he’s only going to get more and more tired from here on out. Maybe a home crowd will invigorate him and give him the energy he needs, but the more he scans his agenda for the days ahead the more he finds himself doubting that. 

 

And on top of all that, he’s got a month until his final exams. He’s supposed to be in the depths of revision, like the rest of his classmates are back in Bologna. The best he can do is slip his headphones over his ears as he prepares for the day, listening to a revision guide to try and multitask. 

 

After going through the usual motions he grabs a bottle of water, shoves a protein bar in his pocket, sticks some gum in his mouth, and takes himself out of hospitality to walk down to the track. He’ll meet his entourage there for the walk, and it gives him precious moments to himself to open up his phone. Kimi doesn’t get the luxury of scrolling through Instagram until his thumb goes numb, but he still finds a way to procrastinate on his school work. He blows bubbles intermittently as he navigates to his notes app with an ever growing list of requests he’s going to make of his team principal - only looking up when a bicycle almost runs him over.

 

George speeds past, waving back to him as he laughs, and Kimi rolls his eyes and shakes his head dramatically.

 

Teammates. 

 

He reverts his attention to the notes written out on the screen in front of him, looking at the last few bullet points he’s written down:

 

• Spider legs (no, seriously, I mean it Toto!)
• Make the bees into spiders? (Sergi has one?)
• Jumping! (Cute spiders - send Wikipedia article)
• A gun. (Please.)

 

He’s not really sure if any of it makes sense, or if Toto is even going to entertain what he’s suggesting. But he’s an eighteen year old boy with ambition and if he can get spider legs, or an army of little spider drones, or a gun, then he wants all those things! He can be trusted with all those things! He’ll be good! He’s not going to blow up a plane.

 

Not without good reason, anyway. What if the Hornet is the only person on a plane? Then, surely, it’s his moral duty to blow up a plane!

 

A hand clapping his shoulder pulls Kimi out of his thoughts and he jumps, going to switch off his phone but instead dropping it in surprise. Bono’s crouching down and apologising as he pushes his headphones off his ears, his engineer reaching to grab his phone and turning it over in his hands.

 

“Sorry, mate, didn’t think we’d scare you so much,” he says, eyes briefly looking at the phone screen.

 

Kimi’s momentarily horrified, but Bono barely offers it more than a glance before he’s handing it back to him.

 

“We’ve got a track walk, lad. This isn’t the time for zombie apocalypse planning,” he teases. 

 

He takes his phone back from his engineer, turning it off and slipping it into his pocket with an overwhelming feeling of relief. Whatever Bono saw of his list, he hasn’t put two and two together yet. He’s dreadfully lucky, and he knows it.

 

Bono, of course, isn’t the only one here: Sergi and Bradley are too. And so is the media team, but Kimi likes to think he can ignore them when they’re more than half a step away from him. 

 

“Ciao,” Kimi smiles at his trainer, who’s got one arm outstretched with a raincoat in his hand.

 

A quick look to the sky confirms why he’s being offered that raincoat, but Kimi shrugs it off for now. It’s only overcast, and he doesn’t want to cramp his style. There’s no guarantee of rain.

 

“After you, Mr Bologna,” Bono gestures for Kimi to lead the way, so he does. “The hometown hero,” he muses as they make their way along the start line.

 

“I don’t want to think too much about that today, eh?” Kimi laughs to hide his defensiveness. “Last time I drove a Mercedes in Italy, it didn’t go so well.”

It still stings a little bit, Kimi can’t deny that. Or perhaps he can, but only because it stings an awful lot more than a little bit. It hurts. He dreams about it more often than he’d care to admit. Failure has never sat right with him, and a failure on the scale of that Practice session… It’ll haunt him until he dies. People might not be publicly doubting his promotion to Formula 1 anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten it. That doesn’t mean Sergi hasn’t had to physically take his phone from him when he’s been caught obsessing over month-old comment sections. 

 

He distracts himself with the track walk, which is ordinary enough. There’s no real excitement in a track walk. Just like any other track walk they make their way to each corner, then stop to chat about the lines. Bono talks about the kerb, about whether he should be aggressive on entry or if he should ‘pull back on entry to improve exit’. The whole team discusses overtakes, gravel traps, floor damage, and grip levels. 

 

By the time they reach Piratella it’s raining, and so Kimi reluctantly takes his jacket from his smirking Sergi - the unspoken I told you so doesn’t need to be voiced - but all he does is pull it around himself. It’s a light shower, a sprinkling, so rather than wearing it properly he drapes it over his shoulders and puts the hood up, tying the sleeves to hold it in place.

 

“Nice cape, superhero,” Bono jokes with a smile. “We’re gonna have a paddock full of ‘em soon aren’t we?”

 

Bradley laughs with Bono, but Kimi’s face falls and he’s busy looking over at Sergi with wide, panicked eyes. Does Bono know? How the fuck could Bono know?! He just joked about the zombie apocalypse, he’s not supposed to know! 

 

“Eh?” He asks nervously, voice cracking in a way that makes it awfully hard not to appear suspicious. 

 

“Oh, right, language barrier, sorry kid,” Bono excuses.

 

Kimi’s relieved at the misunderstanding. He’s relieved that he’s managed to use the old language barrier excuse - something that works a solid 87% of the time - without even being the one to voice it. No one’s called him out on it yet, even when it’s clear that it’s less of a language barrier and more of a teenager daydreaming barrier. 

 

“The coat, it looks like a cape when you wear it like that mate,” Bono explains, waving his finger around as he points at him. “A lot of superheroes wear capes. I spotted Esteban dressed up as Spiderman the other day. Fake one, though. Comic one. Not the real one. He’s got much cooler colours. Never thought old Spiderman would be a Mercedes fan. Great taste.”

 

Bono truly has no idea how funny he’s being, and if Kimi were to laugh half as much as he wanted to then he’d end up giving himself away. So he doesn’t, he fights desperately to keep a straight face. 

 

“We’re not supposed to call him that, no?” Kimi questions, tilting his head curious.

 

Marvel have been in news publications globally, sending cease and desist letters to any outlet that refers to the mysterious hero as Spiderman. There’s been reports of courts in the United States allowing the corporation to pursue civil claims against domestic journalists. It’s a crazy situation, but despite the international outcry of support Kimi has to think about the fact that there’s two more races in America this year. He really, really doesn’t want to be handed a court summons the moment he passes through customs. 

 

“Well, he shouldn’t be Spiderman then,” Bono shrugs.

 

Kimi’s fairly certain his fifty year old engineer doesn’t care about Spiderman in the slightest, rather he’s doing his best to make small talk about a topic he thinks will interest him. They’re bonding. Of course, Kimi would rather stick to strategy talk - both regarding the race and the zombie apocalypse - but he appreciates the effort the older man is going to in order to make him feel welcome.

 

The group continue to make their way around the track as they make casual conversation. Despite the slight shelter offered as they walk down towards Acque Minerali, Kimi has to tug his coat-cape on properly. 

 

“I think…” He starts.

 

He’s nervous at first, tongue licking his lips in thought as the attention is on him. Bono, Sergi, Bradley, the media team… The eyes are back. 

 

It’s something he’s been thinking about since Miami. There’s another note on his phone, not of potential weapons, but potential names.

 

He’s got to pick the right one.

 

“That’s a bold statement,” Sergi says with a laugh.

 

It makes everyone - Kimi included - laugh too. He’s incredibly thankful for it. It lightens the mood, diffuses the atmosphere, and gives him a moment to breathe. He’s given this decision great thought, he knows he’s happy with the name. No amount of time is going to settle his anxiety about it entirely, but maybe just speaking it aloud and seeing what the world thinks will give him the confidence he needs. 

 

He goes again.

 

“I think we should call him the Silver Spider.” 

 

Kimi swallows, observing the reactions of his team. Sergi gives him a gentle, reassuring smile. Bradley and Bono seem pleased too. Chuffed to bits, as George would say. 

 

“I like it,” his engineer confirms. “I think it could catch on. The Silver Spider.”

 

“We could do a partnership,” Bradley chuckles. “The Silver Spider and the Silver Arrows.”

 

“I got it all on camera,” the social media assistant confirms with a thumbs up. “That’ll be great for this afternoon’s post.”

 

Kimi winces. If Bono’s right, and it really does catch on, he hopes no one starts to connect the dots. Really the only people that seem interested in figuring it out (other than the thousands of online sleuths posting in Discord servers and Reddit forums) are Oliver Bearman and Esteban Ocon. Ollie is so set on it being Esteban that he’s unlikely to have his mind changed just because Kimi came up with the name for him, but Esteban… He could be a wild card. And there’s a lot more dots than Kimi would like out there now, even if they aren’t all of his own volition. The Hornet already knows who he is, though, even if the favour hasn’t been returned. As much as he’d like his identity to remain a secret, it’s less about being plunged into mortal danger and more about the thought of lawsuits coming through the post.

 

The rest of the track walk takes a little over an hour to finish, and most of the conversation is actually about the track and the race weekend rather than whatever else Bono presumes an eighteen year old boy would like. The team go their separate ways after walking through the pit lane entrance. Bono has work to do with the strategy team, the social media assistant has videos and photos to edit into posts and get approval for, and Kimi… He gets permission from Sergi to postpone their workout until later in the afternoon. 

 

He keeps walking, zipping up his rain jacket as the weather takes a turn for the worst. Today is the only bad day forecast - the weekend is expected to be hot, hotter, and hotter still. But that’s just how the world is now, extreme rain to extreme heat, and it’s only going to become a more extreme pendulum as the years creep ever onwards.

 

Alone, without awkward chit chat, Kimi can make the walk fairly swiftly from the pit lane to the Senna tribute. Last year the whole grid had gone, accounting for Formula 1 and the feeder series in attendance, they’d run out in the rain and paid their respects to Senna and Ratzenberger. It had been 30 years, a major milestone, so everyone had cared. Everyone had shown up when Sebastian asked them to. Everyone did their bit.

 

This year marks thirty-one years. Thirty-one years isn’t a special number. No one thinks twice about them with a thirty first anniversary. 

 

Kimi does, though. Senna is, and always has been, his idol. He died in the city he was born in. He frequents social media often enough to see that fans repeatedly compare the two of them, and it’s something he thinks about more than he really should. The connection between them - despite the fact that Senna was dead 12 years before he was born - is one that follows him wherever he goes. He can’t shake it, not that he wants to. If he turns out to be even a fraction of the driver that Senna was, he’d be proud of what he’s accomplished. 

 

As suddenly as the intense rain began, it comes to a halt. Enough that he can peel the jacket off himself and tie it around his waist. Sunlight begins to peek through the grey clouds overhead, dappling through the leaves of the canopy above him. Warmth quickly returns to the air and that causes the rain that’s just fallen to start evaporating right in front of Kimi’s eyes. There’s a mist that forms around him, and it’s magical.

 

He loves Italy. He might be biased, but he truly, deeply, wholeheartedly believes it to be the most beautiful country in the world.

 

As Kimi wanders down the path towards the memorial it becomes clear that he isn’t going to be the only person there - something that makes him smile ever so slightly. Despite it being thirty-one years, someone else still cares enough about a great figure of the sport to remember. Someone else cares even when the cameras aren’t there to generate a click, a like, a retweet or a share. 

 

Kimi approaches quietly and, out of respect for the other person, he sits down on a different bench. He doesn’t know why they’re here, so he decides to give them privacy and the option for quiet reflection if that’s what they want. In the meantime he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He stares up at the bronze statue before him and thinks about everything he knows of the man: his greatness; his passion; his drive. He idolises the man off track just as much as on track, and it’s easy to get lost in memories that aren’t really his. Everything he knows has been told through the lens of DVDs and Blurays, and the occasional VHS where it hadn’t been converted into more modern forms of media. Ever since he was a child, Kimi’s been chasing a ghost. If he stares long enough at the statue, maybe he can convince the ghost to stare back at him.

 

Rather, he finds the other person sitting with him look up and stare at him.

 

Kimi spots their face out of the corner of his eye, and he feels like a fool for not noticing who he was before. How could he not? 

 

Sebastian Vettel offers Kimi a smile, and he’s the one to make the first move. He pushes himself up from his bench, walks over soft ground to Kimi’s side, and settles down next to him before starting up a conversation.

 

“It’s good to see the younger generation here,” he says encouragingly.

 

Kimi’s heart sinks like a stone.

 

“Yes,” Kimi agrees quietly.

 

He could argue, if pressed, that his soft tone is out of respect for where they are. He nods his head, shifts his focus away from Sebastian and back to the statue before them. Despite looking calm on the outside his mind is racing, his heart is pounding, and he can’t shake the awful, awful feeling of recognition. Sebastian, one of his favourite modern drivers, whom he’d supported in his Red Bull days and cheered for at home whilst watching him claim four World Championships…

 

It couldn’t be. 

 

Sebastian doesn’t avert his gaze from Kimi, and it leaves him feeling exposed. It’s a terrible feeling, haunting and draining, to be perceived this thoroughly. Kimi tucks his hands into his pockets, the tiny scars on the back of his hands from the fight in Jeddah suddenly feel white hot with pain all over again, and his wrists tingle with such harshness he’s got a terrible feeling his hands are going to fall off entirely. He would do anything to convince his eyes to turn away, to pick a different target, but the world doesn’t seem open to granting him such a small mercy.

 

“You’ll have to go for a GPDA position someday,” Sebastian says. “I’m retired now, life got too busy,” he chuckles. 

 

Kimi feels sick. 

 

“Carlos is a good Director, I’m glad he took my place. I know I don’t have to tell you how much of a good job your teammate is doing. But they won’t be around the sport forever, you young lot are going to have to start getting more involved.”

Kimi nods his head, he doesn’t quite trust his voice right now.

 

“I think you’d be a good pick. You’re determined, strong willed,” Sebastian smiles. “You listen.”

 

It just can’t be true. There’s no world in which this makes sense. And yet, there’s no world in which it doesn’t. It fits, and that’s what scares Kimi most of all.

 

He knows he should ask questions, he should try and find the answers he’s been so desperately hoping for every time they’ve come face to face in the last few weeks, but he can’t bear the idea of it. To ask questions means to confirm his theory. To confirm his theory means to accept that Sebastian Vettel is capable of… 

 

Kimi exhales slowly. He doesn’t understand how it could be possible.

 

A strong breeze blows, the trees above them shaking softly in the wind. It’s a gentle, calming sound that should serve to ground Kimi and ease his anxiety, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because as the wind blows, it brings with it a small plastic package. 

 

An empty crisp packet. 

 

It’s nothing. Just a piece of rubbish that will be carried away on the breeze until someone picks it up and disposes of it. Kimi opts to be the good samaritan who does such a thing - if only to get away from Sebastian’s proximity for a brief moment - and as he leans down to grab the plastic he hears an angry huff from behind him. It sends a chill down his spine.

 

Kimi stands back up and straightens his posture, looking over his shoulder as he crumples the small packet in his hand.

 

“Humans…” Sebastian starts darkly. “Are a plague.” 

 

The words sound so alien, and Kimi is half convinced he’s imagined them. Who could possibly have a reaction so strong from something as small as a stray crisp packet? Logically, the same person who’s capable of destroying twenty Formula 1 cars, or throwing flaming merch from the top of a skyscraper, or blowing up a plane. It still seems beyond belief that Sebastian could be the man in his head. 

 

“Look at how they treat this place. It’s beautiful, so beautiful, but they think they have the right to just leave their litter behind? If this is how they treat the planet…”

 

Kimi bites his tongue, this darkness is making him nervous. He doesn’t have his suit with him, and even if Sebastian is unarmed too he’d rather not take any chances.

 

“I have to head back to the team now,” Kimi says softly.

 

It’s a lie. He’s got plenty of time to himself, and if he asks nicely he’s sure Sergi would push his workouts back until the evening. He could spend the afternoon revising, or catching up with coursework he’s behind on, or submitting an essay that he truly should’ve submitted a month ago. For the first time in years, Kimi’s enthusiastic about the prospect of doing his school work. Maybe that’s something to thank him for!

 

“It was good to catch up with you, Kimi,” Sebastian says. 

 

His tone has changed. Instead of the wickedness and anger before, there’s a forbearing nature to his words.

 

It’s foreboding.

 

“Have a good weekend,” he continues. “Your family will be here, won’t they?”

 

He can’t hide his reaction to that question - and as he turns on his heels he can only assume that’s why Sebastian has asked it. There’s a smirk on his face, a look that communicates exactly what Kimi’s fearing. 

 

Sebastian knows who he is, and Sebastian knows that Kimi knows who he is. 

 

Now he’s using it against him. He’s using his family against him. It’s not an overt threat, but the seeds have been planted. Because Kimi knows who he is, Kimi knows what he’s capable of, and Kimi knows exactly what the man could do to his family if he was that way inclined. He thinks about his father, who’s already had the unfortunate pleasure of being on the receiving end of the Hornet’s scheme once before. He thinks about his sister, Maggie, who turns ten tomorrow and doesn’t remotely deserve to be in any kind of danger. He thinks about his mother, who’s spent his whole life working to protect him, who he can finally return the favour for.

 

So he does the only thing he can do. He nods his head obediently.

 

“Toto’s offered them passes,” he agrees. “I hope they’ll be here.”

 

“I hope they are too,” Sebastian agrees.

 

There’s nothing more to be said. Kimi swallows his emotions down and clenches his fists tightly as he walks away, shoving the crisp packet in a bin as he makes his way back towards the track. As soon as he’s rounded the path enough to break Sebastian’s line of sight to him he breaks out into a run, desperate to get off the gravel and out of the forest, back onto the safety of open tarmac as quickly as he possibly can. He’d have scaled the fences if it was required of him, but there’s thankfully no need for such extreme measures to be taken. He finds the nearby marshal post and makes his way back onto the track without any issue, looking back over his shoulder in case he’s been followed as he jogs away. 

 

Away from Sebastian Vettel, away from the implications of the conversation, away from the threats towards the people he loves…

 

… And straight into the path of one Oliver Bearman. 

 

It becomes quickly apparent that Haas have scheduled their track walks for later in the afternoon - with Esteban and his team further up the straight - but Kimi has perfectly timed interrupting Ollie and his group. He should really stand up, brush himself off casually, and apologise before leaving them be, but Ollie’s hands are on his shoulders and steadying him so he doesn’t fall. When he looks up at his friend all the horrible feelings in his stomach leave him in the blink of an eye, replaced with butterflies that flit back and forth. Kimi smiles at him, like an idiot, observing the soft curls of Ollie’s hair now drying after the rain, breathing in the overwhelming scent of his shampoo and aftershave.

 

“Ciao,” he says softly, and Ollie laughs.

 

“Ciao,” he replies right back.

 

If there was going to be any kind of awkwardness after the date slip up in Miami, it’s not made itself known. Kimi wondered, when they’d gone back to sending each other memes, if they were going to wordlessly agree to never talk about it again, but here he is in Ollie’s hands making no move to leave. 

 

Ollie, for his part, doesn’t seem to be intent on letting him go any time soon either. 

 

They jump apart when there’s a flash. Not lightning - the rain from earlier hasn’t returned - but the flash of a camera. Kimi turns his head, and the social media assistant accompanying Ollie waves.

 

“Ignore me,” she says quickly. “The fans love it when we post you guys together. You don’t mind?”

 

Kimi knows it’s a trick question. He damn well can’t say no, because then he’d have to admit to everyone around them that he’d rather not let the rest of the world see him staring up at Ollie like he’d hung the moon and the stars. Like he is the moon and the stars. And that might be true, but it’s one Hell of a confession to make to Ollie’s colleagues.

 

“We’ll catch up in a second,” Ollie tells his team. “You guys go on, I’ll meet you at the corner.”

 

Kimi’s grateful for the steer Ollie gives him, and he’s more grateful that they listen without asking any questions. All they have to do is pose for one more quick photo before the social media assistant is happy and walks off with Ronan to give them some quiet. The Williams teams of Alex and Carlos are only just rounding Tamburello, so they have a few minutes to talk.

 

“Thanks,” Kimi whispers as they leave, clearing his throat.

 

His face feels warm. He’s blushing. This is a great start. This conversation is almost certainly going to be the conversation, where they figure things out and put the misstep to bed, and Kimi’s doing an awful job of remaining neutral. How are things going to go back to normal between them if this is how he acts?

 

“I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he excuses weakly. “Sorry.”

 

“No! Oh my God, please don’t be sorry! I like bumping you! Into you, not bumping with… I mean I’d like that but I… Oh my God.” 

 

It’s Ollie’s turn to go redder than his t-shirt, and whilst Kimi doesn’t entirely understand what Ollie’s hurried words mean it’s enough to make his stomach feel funny and his knees turn to jelly. Ollie’s flustered, and that’s cute, but the emotional whiplash from meeting his mortal enemy a few minutes ago is going to render him utterly useless.

 

He doesn’t mind, though. Not when Ollie’s face is on fire, when his freckles and moles look all the more pronounced, and when those beautiful brown eyes are looking at him.

 

“Okay,” Ollie starts with a deep sigh as he composes himself. “I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“To me?” Kimi blinks, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard in his life.

 

“Yes, Kimi,” he nods.

 

It’s a race against time, and it shows on his face. Kimi can see the brain cell catching up, trying to keep him from opening his mouth and doing something stupid, but the brain cell is too slow. Before he can stop himself, and before Kimi can say anything incriminating on his own part, Ollie begins to speak once more.

 

“I wanted to ask you out. For dinner. In Spain.”

 

Kimi blinks again. The brain cell, whilst too slow to save Ollie, seems entirely nonexistent for him. His mind has short circuited, well and truly malfunctioned.

 

This isn’t the back to normal he expected. Not even slightly.

 

“Eh?”

 

“You, me, dinner,” Ollie says, stumbling over his words a little bit. “T-tapas? After the triple header is done?” 

 

His expression is falling, the overthinking plain as day for even someone as cognitively stunted as Kimi currently is, and Kimi knows he has to say something before Ollie’s brain shuts down and goes into worst case scenario mode.

 

“I just thought we could hang around in Spain for an extra day and get food together where no one can bother us… It’s probably a terrible idea, isn’t it? Okay, forget I said anything. Is that Ronan shouting my name? I have to go!”

 

Ollie makes an attempt to sprint away, but he doesn’t get very far. Kimi reaches out with one arm and grabs hold of his bicep tightly. How can he possibly let Ollie sneak away from him after asking something like that?! If he’s not misunderstood - which is entirely plausible - he’s fairly certain that Ollie has just asked him out on a date. 

 

A date!

 

“This dinner,” he starts, his cheeks reddening to match Ollie’s. “Is it a romantic dinner?”

 

“A-a romantic…” Ollie swallows, nodding his head rather than saying anything more.

 

They’re both utterly useless. No wonder Ollie’s asking him out two business weeks in advance.

 

“Yes,” Kimi nods. “I would love to get dinner with you. Romantically. In Spain.”

 

“Romantically,” Ollie confirms with another nod.

 

“A date.”

 

“A date.” 

 

The two of them stand for a moment, blushing furiously as they breathe and attempt to calm down. Ollie because he has a track walk to return to, and Kimi because… Because he’s got a lot more than tapas on his plate right now. 

 

“I have to go,” Ollie whispers, and Kimi nods. 

 

Ronan really is shouting his name now, and the Williams team are getting too close for a conversation like this to continue. So Ollie runs on ahead, and Kimi waves to him as he stands dumbstruck in the middle of the track.

 

It feels like he’s dreaming. Even when he looks around at the track and the landscape around him, listening to the birds tweeting high above and the people talking all around him, it’s hard to believe it’s real. Kimi reaches to pinch his elbow and yelps a little when it hurts - categorical proof that he isn’t dreaming. His conclusion is that Oliver Bearman really did just ask him out on a date, and he really did agree to it.

 

Kimi laughs airily as he turns around to take in his surroundings and remember the moment for the rest of his life. The weather is somewhere between rain and bright sunshine, the puddles on the track ripple in the wind, and above him is the brightest, most well defined rainbow he’s ever seen. It’s a little on the nose, really, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

 

The only thing he does mind is the fact that, seared permanently into his memory, Sebastian Vettel is watching on from the marshal post.

 

+ + +

 

Imola, Italy
Thursday 15 May 2025

 

Three hours ago, Kimi was sitting in his classroom with his friends laughing and joking about things that don’t matter. Inside jokes, old stories, plans to sneak out and get into trouble over the weekend. Kimi loves racing, there’s no denying that there’s nothing else he’d rather do with his life, but sometimes that isn’t true for his evenings. He’s eighteen, he doesn’t always want to calorie count and track his steps and let Sergi track his sleep quality and chastise him when he stays up too late with his friends. Sometimes he wants to go out and cause mischief, sometimes he wants to get drunk and stumble into a McDonalds in the early hours of the morning and eat three whole boxes of chicken nuggets, sometimes he wants to be a kid. 

 

He’s not a kid right now, even if he feels like it. He’s tucked between Lando and Pierre on a sofa, listening to reporters deliver questions to Lando about his Championship chances, and to Pierre about the latest rumours of a Jack and Franco swap. He’s staring mindlessly into the sea of journalists before him, relieved that their appetite for an exclusive scoop outweighs the fact that it’s his home race. The bright studio lights of the room he’s sitting in makes everything in front of him blur together - though he could remedy that if he just zoned back in. Right now he’s got the blankest of expressions on his face, lips ever so slightly parted, and what onlookers might compare to the classic ‘no thoughts, head empty’ meme is really him going over the countless hours of media training he’s been forced to sit through, and the briefing he’s been given for the weekend.

 

There’s another question for Pierre, and Kimi shifts on the sofa. At least it’s comfortable. A quick glance to the side of the set gives him a reason to smile as he spots his family watching on from the side. 

 

His father has, of course, been with him at every race, but his mother and sister haven’t been present since Japan. Having them here has split Kimi right down the middle, because on the one hand he feels as though he can keep them safe when they’re nearby. If something were to happen - if the Hornet were to try anything - his suit is in his driver room and he can be there to defend them within a few minutes. On the other hand, if they were at home there’d be a greater chance of nothing happening to them. He’s not sure that Sebastian knows where he lives, and he doubts Toto would give him that kind of information even if he promised it was for a good reason. It would be harder to protect them if something did happen, but he could keep a close eye on Sebastian all weekend and make sure he never has an opportunity to slip away.

 

But they’re here, so there’s no point in speculating about what could have been. They’re here, and they’re excited. They’ve trailed him everywhere so far, from the moment he and his classmates stepped off the bus to now. Press conferences aren’t exciting in the slightest, but it’s nice having them around to make him smile through the neverending drudgery that is a questionless Q&A.

 

Maggie pokes her tongue out when she spots him looking, and Kimi smiles. He offers the birthday girl a little wave and she waves right back, their mother squeezing her shoulders softly.

 

Eventually, Kimi’s patience is rewarded with a question of his own. A question about his chances this weekend, and Kimi gives as pragmatic an answer as he can. 

 

“Well, of course, this is my first time here competitively in the car,” he explains, flexing his fingers against the microphone as he speaks. “Obviously I’ve driven the track before a lot, in F4, in F2, and I did some of my testing here as well, but this… Ah, it’s completely different,” he smiles. “Everyone knows the track, so it’s a really high level. It’s difficult to overtake. Maybe the rain will change that, eh? Apparently it’s going to rain now on Sunday. I hope it will go well, because maybe we will never come back to this track. It would be nice to have good memories of Imola.”

 

It’s a wonderful PR answer, Rosa will be proud of him. There’s nothing that can be used against him in future interviews, no ammunition for clickbait headlines, just a relatively faithful rendition of the script that Mercedes have given to him. It’s less fun to use answers that have already been written, but it’s nice not to have to worry about saying something that’s going to put him and the team in jeopardy.

 

As the journalists move on, Kimi lowers his microphone and looks back to his family.

 

His wrist tingles.

 

Sebastian is standing behind his parents. 

 

Kimi tries to control his breathing, tries to control his facial expressions, and tries to control the feeling in his wrist as he stares at the man. It’s hard to hide the darkness from his eyes, even as Sebastian spots him and has the audacity - the fucking gall - to offer him a friendly wave and a smile. 

 

When he finishes the gesture and lowers his hand, he places it on Maggie’s shoulder.

 

There’s no controlling his reaction to that, the flinch is clear for all to see. What he can do is restrain his actions, though. He wants to get up, march off stage, and punch him squarely in the jaw. He wants to call him out for what he is and for the world media in the room to take his accusation at face value. He wants to grab his sister and his parents and drive them back to Bologna. He wants to miss the entire weekend and stay and protect his family. But Kimi, of course, can’t do any of those things. He’s a rookie, an unproven kid, and to do such things and cast such words towards a four time World Champion…

 

Well, the world media are in the room. He knows who’s going to end up on the wrong end of the stick.

 

He sets his jaw instead, looking back to the journalists to give himself something else to focus on. As he balls up the fabric of his sweatpants in his hands, he prays for the press conference to come to a close as soon as possible.

 

Whether it’s a matter of seconds, minutes, or hours, the rest of the press conference is agonising. Kimi is torn between trying not to look to his side and being swallowed up by rage, or looking and feeling relief that his whole family is safe. They, clearly, don’t have the same sense as him that something is wrong. His mother is laughing softly, charmed by whatever it is that Sebastian is saying to her. Maggie is asking question after question and Sebastian is answering her dutifully - and asking her questions in return. Even his father seems to be engaged, unaware that this is the man who almost killed him a month ago. By the time the moderator is telling the drivers they’re free to leave, his father is shaking his hand. 

 

Kimi is on his feet in a flash, jogging towards his family and positioning himself carefully between his mother and his sister. He places his hands protectively on Maggie’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Too tightly, if the soft ‘ow’ she lets out is anything to go by. He’s reluctant to let go of her, but the last thing he wants to do is cause his sister any kind of harm, so he loosens his grip at least somewhat.

 

“I’ll leave you guys in Kimi’s capable hands now,” Sebastian says in a simply delightful tone. 

 

He’s still smiling, cordial and inviting as ever as he waves to his family. Kimi wishes he could bite him, dig his teeth into his neck and rip away the skin. Maybe that’s not the moral compass a superhero should have, but morality can be damned when it comes to saving the people he loves.

 

“Good luck this weekend,” the words are addressed to him. “I’ll see you around the paddock,” that’s addressed to his whole family. “Goodbye, Bumblebee.”

 

Sebastian is looking down at Maggie, who beams from ear to ear at the Champion.

 

Bumblebee?!

 

The tingling sensation in his wrist begins to die down as Sebastian walks away. Kimi moves his arms around Maggie even more protectively as he looks to his parents. He wishes, desperately, that he could skip everything else on his schedule today, but he can’t. He has meetings, briefings and PR obligations a plenty. His school friends are here and they can only be entertained by Mercedes for so long, he has to see them too at some point. 

 

Being so busy means he can’t keep an eye on his family, and that means there’s only one thing he can do.

 

“You should head home,” he tells them, slipping into their native Italian. “I’m in meetings for the rest of the day, I’ll be back home for Maggie’s birthday dinner tonight.”

 

The family look somewhat perplexed by this and Kimi doesn’t want them to have time to think things through. He tries to walk on, ushering Maggie out of the media building, but he’s not fast enough. The conversation doesn’t come to an end.

 

“We came to see you,” Veronica tells him sweetly. “Andrea, topolino, is something the matter?” 

 

It’s not the first time he curses his mother for being able to read him so well, but it’s the first time he curses for reasons other than teenage angst. He can’t exactly tell them the truth of the situation - how would that even go?! ‘By the way, I’m Spiderman, and that World Champion you were just talking to is the Hornet.’ No one has any reason to believe him, so he doesn’t even try. He just lies.

 

He’s starting to get good at lying.

 

“I’m just.. Nervous,” he sighs, in a hopefully convincing manner.

 

“Last time I was driving a Formula 1 car at home…” He winces. 

 

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. He can see the hurt on his mother’s face, the way his father tightens his expression so he doesn’t look desperately disappointed. The family remembers that day well, and Kimi feels shame bubbling up in his stomach. He let them all down, and suddenly he’s only telling half a lie as he continues speaking. 

 

“I don’t want the pressure of you being here. What if I crash again?” 

 

It’s supposed to be a reason for his family to leave, but instead Kimi feels the warm embrace of his mother’s arms pulling him close. She bundles him up against her chest and presses a firm, loving kiss to the side of his cheek. 

 

“You know we won’t stop loving you if you crash again,” Veronica whispers to him tenderly. “If something happens I want to be here to pick you back up, put the pieces back in place.” 

 

Kimi closes his eyes as his mother holds him. Honestly, it’s a nice feeling. He knows she’d rather he didn’t race. Really, they’d both rather he picked any other career path, but his mother in particular watches him drive through a gap in her fingers. She’s nursed him through the recovery phase after surgery more times than any mother should, she’s kissed his bumps and bruises and encouraged him to work hard and follow his dreams even when his dreams have given her nightmares. 

 

He can’t send her away, even if he knows in his heart that’s the safest thing for the family.

 

“We won’t cramp your style in front of your friends,” Veronica bargains as she pulls back, pinching his cheeks lightly. “Go on, go see them, we’ll be in the garage when you get back.”

 

Kimi nods. Without realising it, he’s been separated from them by their own doing. 

 

He’s with his class when he realises what his mother has managed to convince him to do, and he just wills the team to get through the presentations they’ve scheduled for them all. He’s never been more eager to leave his peers behind than he is right now, but his obligations are unending. Even when the demonstrations are over the team have him showing off his helmet, taking pictures, and kicking a football around with his friends for a great PR story. 

 

By the time Kimi’s actually able to escape, the rest of his class are getting onto the bus to take them back to Bologna whilst he remains in the paddock. It’s approaching evening and he’s ready to leave for Maggie’s birthday dinner, his stomach grumbling as he makes a brief stop in his driver room to change out of his race suit and back into his regular clothes. He goes as quickly as he possibly can, not wanting to waste a second. If he wants to protect his family, he needs to be with them at all times.

 

So when he jogs into the garage with his bag on his back, pass in hand ready to leave, he’s horrified to find that Sebastian has once again engaged his family in conversation. But it’s worse than that, it’s so much worse than that.

 

Sebastian crouches down in front of his sister, holding something wrapped in paper in his hands. Kimi doesn’t know if he asked about her birthday, or if she told him about her birthday, but he’s found out about her birthday somehow and gone out and bought her a present! He marches across the garage, trying to not look as furious as he feels. He wants to see what it is he’s gotten her, so he knows what to take with him next time he goes to a bonfire with his friends.

 

“A cat!” Maggie declares excitedly.

 

Of course it’s not a real cat, Kimi wagers that would’ve been rather more difficult to wrap. It’s a soft toy, a plush ginger cat with beady yellow and black eyes. Maggie drops the paper on the floor as she pulls the cat to her chest and holds it tightly. If it hadn’t been given to her by Sebastian, Kimi would’ve thought it was a cute gesture.

 

“Do you like her stripes?” Sebastian asks, picking up the wrapping paper with one hand and trying to keep his own face level whilst pointing out the different colours of orange on her coat. “She looks like a bee, she reminded me of you, Bumblebee!”

 

Kimi shoves his hands in his pockets, ignoring the fierce tingling sensation in his wrists, and instead goes to grab at his charms. Anything to take his mind off this.

 

“What are you going to name her?” Veronica encourages sweetly, as Maggie looks down at the soft toy and considers this question with utmost seriousness.

 

“Bombo!” She grins. “I can be Bumblebee, and she is Bombo.”

 

“Brilliant,” Sebastian beams. “Auguri, Maggie.”

 

His family all seem very impressed with his Italian, even though it’s only one word, and even though he drove for Ferrari and Toro Rosso for years - of course he knows Italian! But it’s enough to firmly have the rest of his family under his spell, and there’s nothing that Kimi can do to free them. All he can do is stand back and watch as the Mercedes social media team take a few photographs and speak to his father for permission to post them, before Sebastian is on his way and the tingling in Kimi’s wrists fades away. At least, for now, he can relax.

 

And now he’s here, there’s nothing he has to worry about. They’re safe with him.

 

They’d be safe at a birthday dinner anyway, he likes to think. But they’re safer when he’s there too.

 

+ + +

 

Imola, Italy
Saturday 17 May 2025

 

Friday, thankfully, passes without incident. All that can really be said is that Maggie has taken to carrying Bombo everywhere she goes, and that the media have had a field day with the soft toy. That ginger cat is almost as famous as Leo Leclerc. A gift to Kimi Antonelli’s little sister from a four time World Champion… The Internet is on fire. Sebastian, thankfully, hasn’t been seen all that much. Kimi spotted him in the garage once, but he was chatting to Toto rather than to his family. Other than that it’s been fleeting glances as he’s gone around the other teams to say hello to the drivers, the engineers, and the mechanics. He’s conducted a few interviews and done some kind of media piece about biodiversity that makes Kimi’s eyes roll so hard he’s lucky they didn’t roll right off his face.

 

Despite the distraction, both practice sessions went okay. An interrupted soft tyre run in the first session left him P12 in the standings, but his long run data had been promising. The second session was a much more respectable P4. He’s aiming for more improvement today. A pole position for his home crowd, the one and only time he’ll ever get to race in Imola, would certainly make for a memorable Saturday afternoon. Sunday is where the points are scored, but he wants to perform as best he can for the crowd the entire weekend. 

 

Maggie waves him over as he pulls on his helmet for the session, and when he walks to the back of the garage she grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him down to her level to place a kiss on his visor. Kimi almost feels bad removing the tear off, but he needs to see as he pats her on top of her head with his gloved hands.

 

“Buona fortuna, Andy!” Maggie says brightly.

 

Kimi gives her a thumbs up as he walks back over to his car. As the few final touches are put on, Kimi looks to Sergi standing at his side and wordlessly beckons his trainer to lean down to be heard over the sound of power tools and engines.

 

“After Practice,” he shouts. “We need to talk.”

 

Sergi nods his head, and Kimi’s glad that no further questions are asked. Knowing his luck he’d be halfway through shouting an answer when the pit lane falls silent and the whole world would hear him screaming about Sebastian Vettel.

 

He climbs into his car, he checks his radio with Bono, and he’s sent out to cheers of his name from the grandstands. The roars drive him on all session, so when he finishes up P6 he almost feels like he’s let the people down. Of course he knows the engine is turned down, he knows the car was fat with fuel, but it’s still a tad demoralising not to see himself even close to the top three as he climbs out of the car and puts his helmet to one side. He sighs when he stands besides his engineer to look over the data, only glancing away from the screens to confirm when a few drops of rain start to fall.

 

The clouds are dark no matter where he looks. This rain is here to stay. It gives him a reason to smile.

 

After half an hour he’s given the okay to take a break for lunch before he needs to prepare for Qualifying, which of course means going straight to his driver room where Sergi is waiting with a bowl full of pasta for him. Any plans of showering before a serious discussion with his trainer are long forgotten as he reaches out for the dish. Kimi places it beside his bed, pressing his hands down on the uncomfortable ‘comforter’ and pushing himself up to sit cross-legged. As soon as he’s settled the bowl is in his hands again and he’s starting to wolf down the lasagna.

 

It tastes like his grandmother’s recipe. 

 

“You wanted to talk to me?” Sergi reminds Kimi of the real reason he’s here, and Kimi nods his head as he swallows the first mouthful with a moan of pure, unadulterated bliss.

 

“Sebastian Vettel,” he says, going for a second bite. “He’s the Hornet.”

 

As Kimi chews on his forkful of food, Sergi’s face goes through several emotions. Kimi isn’t surprised at all. He knows his trainer has full faith in him, but that’s quite a bombshell to drop without any supporting information. He focuses on eating as much as he can before there’s any follow up questions, but inevitably his quest to eat comes to a premature end.

 

“How do you know?”

 

It’s a logical question. Possibly the only logical question. Kimi’s not sure what else he would’ve asked if he was in Sergi’s shoes. The situation is overwhelming, this is the best he can ask. 

 

“I feel it,” he explains, swallowing to empty his mouth before he speaks any further. “My wrist, my gut. Whenever I see him I feel it. On Wednesday, after the track walk, he was at the memorial too. He called humans a… A… Eh, what was the word?” He huffs. “It’s on my tongue! I taste it!”

“Lasagna?” Sergi jokes. 

 

Kimi doesn’t laugh. This isn’t the time for humour.

 

“The coughing and the dying,” he gestures to his left arm. “Their skin all black?”

 

“The plague?” 

 

“Si! Yes! Humans are a plague!” He declares, his excited tone more a reflection of the fact that he’s figured out what word he was missing than the idea that humans really are a plague. 

 

“He’s been following my family too, eh? Maggie, he calls her Bumblebee. And he bought her Bombo.”

 

Sergi nods. He’s been tasked with carrying Bombo on more than one occasion already this weekend.

 

Kimi takes another bite of his lasagna, taking advantage of the silence. His trainer continues to process his thoughts, thinking deeply. It’s not often Kimi manages to make him fall absolutely silent, and after years of working together he was starting to doubt he still possessed the ability to make him speechless. Apparently all it takes is accusing a four time World Champion of being a supervillain - who knew!

 

“I can go to the police,” Sergi says. “Or the military. Or the FIA.” 

 

“And do what?” Kimi asks him, shovelling more food into his mouth.

 

Once again, Sergi falls quiet. Realistically there’s very little any of those people can do. The police would be utterly powerless against the Hornet, as would the FIA, and would the military intervene? Surely they’d want more concrete evidence that Sebastian is who Kimi says he is. Surely they’re not going to roll out tanks and guns on the gut instincts of a teenager. Even if Kimi knows those instincts are right, he knows the world is less about what’s right and what’s wrong and more about paper trails and multiple levels of sign off and clearance. 

 

“It’s up to me,” Kimi says. “Maybe I take a grid drop, eh? Unsafe release into his shins?” 

 

Sergi chuckles, and Kimi smiles. It’s the time for humour now - mostly because he’s the one making the jokes. He drops the smile quickly though, time to be serious once more.

 

“Will you keep my family safe when I’m in the car?” Kimi asks.

 

Unsurprisingly, Sergi nods his head. 

 

Since he was a child, Sergi has been his obedient servant. He’s carried his bags, he’s made his meal plans, he’s molded his body into the race ready state it is today. His job has always been to keep him safe and sound, to help him become stronger and more resilient, to teach him how to do the impossible. Whatever Kimi asks of him, his trainer will make it happen. Keeping his family safe is no exception to that rule.

 

Sergi bids him farewell to begin the task of protecting those Kimi holds nearest and dearest to him as Kimi quickly finishes his lunch and jumps briefly into the shower. He’s just going to get back into the car and get hot and sweaty all over again, but the routine is nice. Feeling clean as he pulls on a fresh race suit is nice. Being able to walk alongside George from hospitality to the garage without worrying he smells is nice. 

 

The rain is damn near torrential as they go through their pre-Qualifying checks, and the start of the session is delayed until the worst of the rain passes by. Kimi doesn’t let himself get distracted by anything, climbing into the car at his usual time and staring at the data even as he’s barred from leaving the garage. He spots a few places where he can make some time up on George, and that’s really the least he can do this weekend. If he can’t win, he has to beat George. 

 

Eventually the conditions clear up enough that a start time is given and Kimi trundles down to the end of the pit lane to wait. He wants the clearest track he can possibly have, wants to feel the conditions beneath his tyres and build his confidence up and up and up. The race tomorrow is going to be much the same as far as the forecast says, so he needs to understand exactly what kind of grip he’s going to get. The last thing he wants to do is end up in the barriers.

 

Despite his anxiety, his first lap feels good. He has the confidence he needs to push from the very start, and with enough fuel in his car to just keep putting in lap after lap after lap the feeling only grows and grows. He sails through Q1 - both because he’s well clear of the bottom 5 and because he might as well be in a boat in some parts of the track. Q2 follows the same trajectory. He steers well clear of gravel traps and sausage kerbs, making it into the final session without so much as dipping a tyre into the grass or the gravel and sustaining absolutely no floor damage (for what feels like the first time in a Qualifying session this season). The mechanics weren’t expecting it at all - he catches them putting away tape as he’s rolled back into the garage and a fresh set of inters are bolted on for the final session of the day.

 

Bono’s on the radio, talking him through the data on the screens in front of him to identify where he can improve for his final run. As the car is refuelled he talks through the run plan - a warm up lap, then pushing and cooling alternately until the chequered flag is waved. It’s Kimi’s favourite kind of session, where he can build and build and keep pushing until there’s nothing left to give.

 

When the screens are taken away, Kimi sees the monitors playing the live broadcast above him and spots footage of his family in the back of the garage. His parents are standing and watching on intently, whilst Maggie sits cross-legged on a desk with her bright pink noise cancelling headphones on. Her hands are covering Bombo’s ears, as if protecting her too from the cacophony of a Formula 1 garage. Even with his own disliking of Bombo, he can’t help but smile at her childlike innocence and kindness. He doesn’t get to smile for too long though, Bono is counting him down and he’s being waved out of the garage and into the pit lane to wait for the green light.

 

As soon as it’s illuminated, Kimi pulls out of the pits with adrenaline pumping through his veins. It’s easy to build the gap he needs with only ten cars still on track, getting heat into the tyres as best he can with the conditions still so dire. He’s got great visibility, though. He feels confident. As he pulls out of the second Rivazza, he’s ready to push.

 

His first lap is okay, the second is better, and he’s careful to position himself to make sure he’s the last over the line before the chequered flag is waved. He’s got the best conditions of anyone on the track, the only thing that stands between himself and pole position is himself. He’s got this.

 

He feels his wrist start to tingle the second he crosses the line.

 

It’s an incentive to drive even faster, not that he needs one. But driving quickly now is no longer about setting the best lap possible, it’s about making it back to the garage as quickly as he can. If Sergi is with his family then they should be safe, which means that the Hornet must be away from the track and putting others in danger. It doesn’t stop the dread that pools in his stomach, though.

 

Kimi can see on his dash that he’s gone green in the first sector, then purple in the second, and he pushes with everything he has left in him. The tyres are giving him the grip he needs, despite the conditions. They’re in the window perfectly, the exact temperature he needs. Any rain drops that fall on his visor are quickly forced away by the speed he’s taking. In his desire to get back to the garage, he takes unconventional lines that only seem to improve his lap time further. 

 

The first thing he hears over the radio is a shout, not from Bono but from his mother.

 

“Andiamo, topolino!” She cries joyfully.

 

“Si, Kimi! Brilliante! Brilliante Kimi!” His father cheers.

 

“That would be P2, Kimi,” Bono confirms to him - tone an awful lot more measured than his parents. 

 

He can still hear the pride in his voice, even if he’s too British to really show it. 

 

“Starting to get the hang of things, eh lad?” 

 

“Ahh, yes,” he laughs softly. 

 

It’s a strange feeling. He was hoping for pole a few minutes ago, but now he doesn’t really care. In fact, more than anything, he realises that he’s added a whole lot more media duties to his plate. If the Hornet is off terrorising the people of his home country he’s not going to be able to do anything to stop him now. Starting on the front row for the first time should be something to be celebrated, but he’s dreadfully torn by it all. His celebrations, therefore, are more muted than he’d like them to be. Maybe he owes the PR team an apology for their pre-prepared statements for interviews and press conferences. He’d kill for a script right now.

 

“Thank you guys,” he adds hastily. “The car felt great today. Let’s see what we can do tomorrow, eh?”

 

“Nice work, Kimi. Not bad for a rookie,” Toto tells him. 

 

“If you bring the car back into pit lane and park by the board, weigh yourself, then do your interview and the photo. Sergi will be there, he’ll bring you back to the garage, we’ll talk you through the rest of the day.” 

 

The radio falls silent, and Kimi is on his own for the last few seconds of the lap. He drives slowly, waving to the crowds that have faced the worst weather that Italy can offer, hearing his name shouted back at him. It might not be pole position, but he’s brightened up their day regardless. Their cheers do little to quell his own anxieties, and he enters the pit lane and parks up by the P2 board to try and get through his duties as quickly as possible. His heart is hammering in his chest, which makes it awfully difficult to remove his steering wheel and climb out of the car. As soon as he manages he uses the halo to push himself up and jump out, eyes scanning the crowd around him to ascertain what’s happening.

 

He can see his team, a mass of black rain jackets and soaked-through white shirts, and with his helmet hiding how distracted his face is he can give them a thumbs up for a couple of photos whilst he looks over the mass of people. Sergi is protecting his family, but what if something’s happened? What if Maggie’s wandered off on her own whilst he wasn’t looking? What if Toto’s asked him a question and he’s been otherwise engaged? What if… What if… What if…

 

Kimi lets out a sigh of relief when he spots his sister’s bright pink headphones - a beacon in a sea of darkness. But that relief is quickly replaced with confusion, because her headphones are about four feet higher up than he’s expecting them to be. She’s just turned ten, and unless she’s had a growth spurt in the last fifteen minutes she shouldn’t be so tall. 

 

When he looks at the wider picture, it’s clear that she isn’t tall at all. 

 

She’s sitting on Sebastian’s shoulders.

 

Kimi goes quickly to the Parc Ferme fencing and holds out his arms, desperately grateful to see that his sister is more interested in hugging him than she is remaining at her current vantage point. She slips down from Sebastian’s shoulders and wraps her arms around Kimi at the first opportunity she gets, and Kimi cuddles her back as tightly as he possibly can. His heart starts to calm down, knowing that she’s safe in his arms, and he scrunches his eyes shut as he holds her. 

 

His visor is raised by the little girl in question, and his sister leans in to shout into his helmet.

 

“Bombo says congratulations!” She declares in Italian. 

 

Kimi knows he can’t stand there forever, but when he hands her back over the fence he makes sure she’s placed directly in their mother’s arms. His parents fuss over him for a moment before he’s passed along to the team, Toto patting the top of his helmet as he beams with pride. When he finally escapes he goes to shake Oscar’s hand and congratulate him on a pole position well earned, before he goes to get weighed. It’s only then that he finally takes his helmet off, standing and waiting to be interviewed, but he finds a moment to stand and glare in Sebastian’s direction.

 

The fact that he just keeps smiling back at him is haunting. 

 

He can’t shake from his mind the fact that there’s nothing he can do to stop him when he’s in the car. Whether that’s stopping him getting to his family, or stopping him from terrorising the public, Kimi is utterly helpless when he’s driving. His family trusts Sebastian, they’re not going to let Sergi stop them from talking to him if he’s in the garage. He doesn’t know how to protect them.

 

As he steps forward to be interviewed and puts on his best smile for Nico Rosberg, waving to the crowd like his mind isn’t going at a thousand miles an hour, he comes to a dreadful realisation.

 

He can’t keep them safe.

 

+ + +

 

Imola, Italy
Sunday 18 May 2025

 

Kimi is standing on the grid, his arms crossed over his chest as he listens to Bono beneath the umbrella being dutifully held by Sergi. He’s being given feedback on the practice start from the pit lane - something even more important than usual. P2. A good start and the possibilities are endless. A bad one? He doesn’t want to think about that. Not today. Not in Imola. He tucks his jacket around himself to keep warm, glancing over at his family as Veronica and Maggie take photos with his car and Marco watches him carefully. 

 

Bono is called over by one of the other engineers in the team and that leaves Kimi standing with Sergi alone, and he looks up to his trainer with a pleading expression. He’s not sure he’ll be able to take another competitive session with tingling in his wrist. 

 

“Keep them safe,” he begs. “Please. Safer than you’d even keep me.”

 

Sergi nods his head, the brief conversation over as quickly as it had begun, and just in time for Bono to return. They talk strategies and safety cars - a near certainty in weather like this. It’s not long before he’s leaving his team and wandering to the front of the grid for the anthem. He toys with his charms as he stands there, letting the cool metal against his palms guide him towards a state of calm. And it means that the weight of standing alone at the front feels like far less pressure than he expected it to be. Rather than a crushing sensation, he feels light. He feels free. How could he possibly be anxious about the race when the conditions are some of his favourite and the crowd is shouting his name? He’s starting from second, overtaking is difficult, it’s the perfect place for a maiden podium. A win… Now that would just be wonderful, but a podium will be enough.

 

No, it won’t. Of course it won’t. He wouldn’t be a Formula 1 driver if a podium was enough for him. He’s hungry for far more than that, and as he walks back to his car and starts to get ready he focuses his attention on that victory alone. Kimi doesn’t say a word as he pulls his balaclava on, Sergi tucking it dutifully into his race suit as he hands him his helmet. Pulling it over his head feels like severing contact with the outside world, noises are dulled as his head is cushioned. His shoes are wiped of any moisture as he climbs into the car, and engineers lean in to make sure his seatbelt is secure, his drink and radio are all connected properly, and his steering wheel is fixed correctly. 

 

The car jolts beneath him as it jumps to life, and he performs a radio check with Bono on the pitwall. Kimi breathes heavily as he prepares himself like this is any other race. At the last possible second, the last of the mechanics leave him and run to the side of the grid as Oscar pulls away ahead of him to start the formation lap, and Kimi goes through the tyre warm up that he and Bono had discussed at length during the briefing this morning. 

 

His clutch was good, that’s all he needs to know. 

 

He does the four requested burnouts on the way to the grid.

 

He slots into his grid box and exhales.

 

Bono tells him when the last car lines up on the grid, and Kimi’s eyes flick to the lights above him.

 

One, two, three, four, five…

 

In a flash, Kimi’s barrelling down to the first real corner of the track. Oscar’s gotten a terrible start, and he’s got a run. This might be his only chance. He can’t waste it. 

 

Oscar brakes late into Variante Tamburello, but Kimi brakes later.

 

He just about keeps it on the track as he sweeps around the outside, getting on the accelerator as soon as he can to start building a gap. He ignores Bono’s praise over the radio, because there’s 62 laps ahead of him that he has to focus on. Kimi knows this is where he needs to be, but in conditions like this it takes one tyre on the grass for it to all be undone. He has to focus. 

 

But he thrives. It’s reminiscent of his first win in Formula 2, the Sprint Race in Silverstone last year. There’s less chaos, less safety cars, but he nails the one restart after Gabriel makes a career change and takes the rally route through the gravel and into the barriers. He builds a gap, and then he consolidates that gap, and when he crosses the finish line for the final time - the chequered flag whipping back and forth madly with the wind and the rain - he’s seventeen seconds ahead of Oscar in second.

 

His first Grand Prix victory. A home win. 

 

There are no words to describe how it feels as Bono’s voice rings out over the radio, Toto chiming in a few moments later. He can’t hear what they’re saying, deafened by the sounds of his own sobs. He’s done it. He’s done it. He drives around slowly, pushing up his visor so he can reach into his helmet and try to wipe his eyes and stifle his tears. He really, really needs to respond on the radio at some point but his emotions have well and truly gotten the best of him. 

 

Just when he thinks he’s gotten a hold of himself, his father’s voice comes over the radio and he practically slows to a halt as he starts to cry all over again.

 

“Grazie,” he weeps, voice breaking on the single word. “Grazie mille. Oh my God. Oh my God. Thank you so much.”

 

He waves to the crowd of people chanting his name, to the drivers who flank him and applaud him on their own in laps. It all feels so overwhelming, so wonderful, and after a weekend of such highs and lows it’s so exhausting too. But truly, he’s never been so happy in his life.

 

By the time he makes it back to the pit lane he’s the last one pulling into Parc Ferme. He brings his car to the P1 board and switches it off, catching his breath in his helmet for a moment before he starts to get out. His head is spinning, his lungs are working overtime, everyone around him is screaming his name. Climbing out of the cockpit is more difficult than he expected it to be - adrenaline has drained from him and left his entire body feeling like it’s made from jelly - and in the end he can only get out when Max offers him a hand. The gesture from one of his heroes is special, and so is the handshake from the current Championship leader, but of the drivers nothing is more special than feeling a hand tap his shoulder and Ollie to appear behind him. 

 

No one questions the hug between two former teammates, their helmets knocking together as Kimi goes to rest his head on Ollie’s shoulder. The grip is tight, and Kimi’s going to be thinking about how strong Ollie’s arms are (and how good he smells when he’s hot and sweaty) for the next few evenings. If they weren’t surrounded by media, he’s pretty sure he’d stand in Ollie’s embrace for a good few minutes, but there are more drivers coming to congratulate him and - more importantly than that - there’s his team, his family. 

 

Kimi takes off his helmet, revealing just how much the victory means to him and just how emotional he’s gotten, leaving it on the pedestal with his winner’s cap and running towards his family. Maggie is just about tall enough to throw her arms around his waist over the Parc Ferme barriers, and his parents almost split him in two as they each try to tug him close. 

 

“Andiamo, topolino,” his mother echoes the words from yesterday as she kisses his cheek.

 

Marco says nothing as he ruffles Kimi’s hair, sobbing instead of attempting to speak. He’s red in the face as he grabs Kimi’s cheeks and smothers his face in kisses, bursting with pride and fatherly love. 

 

After how much Kimi let him down in Monza last year, he’s relieved that he’s been able to make it up to him.

 

He’s passed down the line, from his family to his team, the next set of congratulations coming from Sergi, then Bono, then Toto. He’s hugged so tightly he’s worried his lungs might explode, and his back is patted so firmly he’s worried he’ll break a bone, but it feels so good. He’s done himself proud, his family proud, his team proud, and his country proud. The next set of arms wrapping around him is somewhat more unexpected, but a delight to be on the receiving end of.

 

Pedro, his old engineer from Prema, who must’ve sprinted all the way from the feeder paddock just to congratulate him. Bono is fantastic, and exactly what he needs, but he can’t deny that he misses Pedro dearly. Unspoken words and the missing heartfelt goodbye from Abu Dhabi last year swells between them, and Kimi feels another sob escape him.

 

Going through the motions of being weighed and giving an interview feels like a dream. Nothing feels real right now. As he walks to the cooldown room he thinks about the brawl that must’ve taken place in the Mercedes garage as to who would join him to represent the team for the Constructors’ trophy, but in the end it’s Gwen Lagrue, and Kimi’s not remotely surprised that it isn’t Toto. Gwen, really, is the only reason he’s where he is today. Of course other people have helped - Toto’s faith to put him in the car, Sergi’s years of dedication training him physically and mentally, the Minardis for first scouting him - but Gwen is the defining factor. The Head of Driver Development. The one who plucked him from karting and guided him to this very spot. He’s hugged tightly, and the whispered congratulations feels as monumental as the screams in the pit lane did. 

 

Maybe he’ll ask for two replica trophies from the team. Maybe he’ll give one to Gwen, like he gave one of his karting trophies to Toto to thank him for the opportunity to join the Mercedes Academy. 

 

He wipes his eyes as he watches back the highlights of the race with Oscar and Max, the praise from both men about his first corner overtake going to his head as he sips on water to replenish his dehydrated body. Kimi still doesn’t feel even remotely real as he switches out his hat, being herded by FIA officials towards the podium.

 

Being the last to step out is both a terrifying and a wonderful feeling, though he’s not entirely convinced he’ll make it to the top step without fainting. He does, despite swaying a little bit, but the orchestra starting up and beginning to play the Italian anthem - his anthem - gives him time to breathe and soak everything up. He removes his hat, runs a hand through his hair, wipes the sweat and rain from his forehead and bounces on his toes. Kimi sings along to the anthem, though his voice is entirely drowned out by the crowd chanting beneath him. 

 

He’s won. It’s real. He really did it.

 

As the Italian anthem fades to the German anthem, Kimi scans the crowd to see everyone looking up at him. The social media team are taking photos, there are cameras filming him intently, Mercedes are out in full force to celebrate him - with George standing besides Toto to clap and cheer like the older brother he is - and all of Prema have made it too. He looks for his family, wanting to see the pride in their eyes as he smiles down to them. And that’s when he feels it.

 

The dreaded tingle in his wrist.

 

Sebastian is standing behind his sister, and he places his hands on her shoulders.

 

Kimi can’t react, not when he knows that the entire world is watching him. Not when he knows that any faltering of the unabashed joy would be scrutinised the Hell and back. Sebastian might know who he is, but the Silver Spider can handle the Hornet. He needs to keep his identity secret from the rest of the world, and that means keeping on the mask despite the fact that he’s watching his sister being manhandled by the most dangerous person in the world.

 

So he smiles, despite the rage in his heart. He shakes hands as the trophies are handed out, bows his head to receive his medal, despite the despair in his soul. He jumps down from the top step of the podium with his champagne bottle in hand and drenches Max, Oscar, and Gwen with the bubbly liquid, despite his brain working overtime trying to find a way to fix this problem.

 

Gwen sprays the champagne directly into his mouth and Kimi lets it flow right back out again. Champagne is disgusting, he’s got no intentions of swallowing it, though he supposes he’s going to need to get used to it if he wants to be a World Champion. He clinks his bottle with Oscar and Max as they guide him back onto the top step for photographs to be taken, before he’s swept away by officials who take the podium and medal for safe keeping. He’s tired. He needs a break. His mind is yoyoing between jubilation and dismay and it’s left him far too spaced out to know what’s going on anymore, so he just floats from place to place as people point and shout his name, caught between exultation and trepidation.

 

He’s pulled out of his dreamlike state by a hand placed on his shoulder, another person coming to congratulate him, but when he turns around to give his first lucid thank you since the chequered flag fell…

 

Sebastian Vettel. 

 

“Congratulations, Kimi,” he praises. “That was a brilliant race.”

 

His heart pounds. He wants to shrug Sebastian’s hand away from his shoulder, but there’s too many people around them - too many cameras - for that to be a sensible move. Instead he just has to stand there and take it as arms wrap around him, returning the gesture uncomfortably in a hug that makes him feel sick to his stomach. This man… He’s tried to kill him. 

 

“I told you to stick to racing didn’t I, little spider?”

 

If there was any doubt in Sebastian’s identity, those whispered words make it clear that his assumptions are correct. He’s half expecting his grip to tighten, as if Sebastian’s here to squeeze the air from his lungs like he’s a tube of toothpaste, but instead he just pats his back and pulls back. 

 

“My first win was in Italy too,” he recalls. “Monza, 2008.”

 

Kimi nods his head. He’s seen the replays, of course.

 

“That’ll be the first of many, I’m sure,” Sebastian smiles, hand back on his shoulder. 

 

Kimi might just set himself on fire. 

 

“Thank you, Sebastian,” he says diligently. 

 

“I’ll be looking out for you, kid. They said you were special, I think you’re capable of greatness.”

 

He’s got too much to do to linger any longer, being whisked away from the short conversation as he’s ushered towards the press conference he’s already late for. His arm feels so wrong, and he can’t focus on anything but the feeling of Sebastian’s fingers against his t-shirt. It’s as if he’s been infected by him, just from the touch. Kimi finds himself playing with the hem of his left sleeve more often than usual, trying to restore the balance to his body, trying to will himself to be clean again.

 

When he’s reunited with his family, hours later, after showering and debriefing after the press conference, he falls to his knees to scoop his sister (and Bombo) into the tightest hug imaginable. She helps to wash away the last traces of badness left in his stomach after his conversation with Sebastian. He holds her tightly, his head on her shoulder, until the family are ready to leave, at which point he hoists her up onto his shoulders to give her a piggyback ride to their car. Until he has to travel to Monaco on Wednesday, Maggie simply won’t leave his sight.

 

Except for the car ride home, where he’s quickly dozing off with his head against the window. This weekend has given him a bit of everything, except for one thing. He hasn’t fought with the Hornet. There’s been no attack, no physical altercation, no real danger. All that’s happened is that Sebastian has wormed his way into the hearts of his family, and taken root in his own mind. He’s been manipulated to live in a near-constant state of fear, constantly on edge that something could happen. For the rest of his life, he’ll never be able to trust that his family is safe. Sebastian could decide to take advantage of his love for them at a moment’s notice. 

 

And Kimi can’t be there to protect them forever. That anxiety is never going to go away.

 

Instead, it’s going to eat him alive.

Notes:

a slightly different vibe to this chapter! no big fights today, but a rather tense weekend. and the REAL, CANON results of imola. he didn't dnf with a power issue, he won. no one can take that from me.

thank you so much for reading what is currently the longest chapter of the whole fic... oh i'm getting so scared about editing some of the later chapters... this was meant to be a 10k oneshot... so if you're enjoying the fic, or you just want to yell about our favourite little bumblebee, please leave a comment or come say hello on tumblr! i'm always excited to hear your thoughts, feelings, opinions, and theories!

see you all for monaco... i'm VERY excited for monaco :3

Chapter 5: Issue 5: Panic! At the Disco

Monaco, Monaco
Wednesday 21 May 2025

 

The high of a maiden win is a hard feeling to describe. It’s a strange combination of swirling emotions. Kimi’s been able to go to bed in his childhood home the last few evenings and feel an overwhelming joy, a sense of pride for himself, his team, and his country, the satisfaction that his hard work through years of karting has paid off, even relief that he’s managed to do it and finally silence the critics who thought his potential was defined entirely by the crash in Monza last year. There’s been a hunger, too. A hunger for more. A maiden win is good, but what does one victory mean? Even with the margin he won by, it could be put down to a fluke. He was in the right place, at the right time, and took advantage of the weather conditions. If he wants to prove that he was the one that won, and that it wasn’t just the charms tucked away in his pocket, then he has to do it again. 

 

Kimi imagines, for anyone else, that’s all a maiden win is. Maybe for some the relief is more prominent, for others the pride is. He knows, for everyone that’s won a race on the grid, that giving the beast inside them a taste of the top step only makes them more ravenous, more ruthless, more desperate to get there again. 

 

But he’s not been able to escape the rest of the weekend, even as he’s had a few brief days to bask in glory. 

 

Having arrived in Monaco a few hours ago, Kimi’s found he’s no longer the man of the hour. A few people snap photos of him, and fewer still approach and ask him to sign an autograph, but he’s much more invisible here than he was last weekend. The whiplash of going from his home race to Charles Leclerc’s home race is intense. After back to back to back media commitments and an entire country screaming his name, the peace is almost nice.

 

Almost.

 

Instead it leaves him wandering the principality with those other emotions snaking around inside him. Joy is replaced with fear, wrapping around his limbs and tightening to make every step he takes a little more difficult. Pride is replaced with anxiety, suffocating him with every breath. Relief is replaced with pressure that squeezes his skull. 

 

His mother and sister are at home in Bologna, and Kimi has never been more terrified. He hasn’t seen Sebastian since he congratulated him on his win, and not being able to track his every movement means he has no idea if he’s tagged along to Monaco or if he’s extended his stay in Italy. There’s every chance that Kimi’s going to have to fight him this weekend, but there’s an equal chance that he isn’t. They both know who the other is, and that means that Kimi’s weaknesses can be used against him. 

 

If the Hornet touches his family, he won’t rest until he’s destroyed him. Four time World Champion or not, Kimi won’t let anyone hurt them.

 

Marco is with him in Monaco. A different hotel, and not shadowing him at every opportunity, but he’s there. Kimi can keep his father safe. He tries to focus on that, rather than the images that force themselves into his mind of his sister being led away from his mother by a man she thinks she can trust. Bumblebee. His fists clench tightly and he exhales slowly, training his gaze on the horizon.

 

The ocean is relatively still here, gentle waves move back and forth against the hundreds of moored yachts and the walls of the harbour. As he tries to regulate his breathing and keep himself calm he can smell salt in the air - or maybe it’s caviar and cocaine. Either way, it helps to ground him in his surroundings, helps him loosen how tight his body feels under the weight of expectation and anticipation.

 

A few minutes pass, and Kimi remains invisible thanks to the crowds of people around him. The VIPs mingling as they disembark their vessels, entirely unaware of who he is, provide a useful curtain between himself and the tourists who would otherwise point and ogle. It gives him just enough time to convince his mind that there’s nothing to be worried about right now before he’s no longer alone. A tap on his shoulder alerts him to this fact. But rather than a fan invading his personal space for a hug and a selfie, or the Hornet pushing him into the harbour and watching him drown, he turns his head to come face to face with a pleasant surprise.

 

“Nico!” He grins. “Ciao!”

 

“Hey, Kimi,” Nico laughs in return.

 

It’s been years since he was part of Nico Rosberg’s karting academy, but in a world like Formula 1 where connections mean everything they’ve never lost touch. Nico’s been a rock, a constant supporter throughout his junior career, and he’s glad to see him when the opportunity arises. For once, being pulled into a hug doesn’t feel like he’s all touched out, there’s no overstimulation associated with being embraced by a mentor - a friend. 

 

“Your first win last weekend,” Nico tells him, offering a tight squeeze before pulling back from the hug and patting his shoulder instead. “I remember my first race in F1 like it was yesterday, and it was before you were born, and now you’ve gone and won a race.” 

 

Kimi shakes his head. If his contractual points bonuses were based on how many times he’d heard something like that over the last few days, he’s pretty sure he’d have had a substantial pay rise. 

 

“Just don’t wait another season to get the next one,” Nico encourages. “I did. More than. It was Monaco the next year. It was a dreadful wait. I felt like the whole world just thought I’d gotten lucky. Honestly, I thought it too for a while. Didn’t even finish on the podium the rest of the season.”

 

Kimi licks his lips and nods, shoving his hands back into his pockets. 

 

“It could’ve been luck,” he admits. 

 

“I saw you karting, Kimi. I know it’s not luck. You’re a natural talent. You’re gifted. There’s something special about you, and you’re hard working enough to become one of the greatest drivers we’ve ever seen.”

 

Kimi swallows, persuading himself not to tear up. It’s not as if he’s been short of compliments over the last few days, but it always means more coming from someone like Nico. A World Champion in his own right, someone he’s always looked up to for guidance and reassurance. If Nico thinks he can, who is he to let him down?

 

“It still could’ve been luck,” he says, pulling one hand from his pocket and opening up his hand to reveal the two charms in his palm. “I think they did it for me.”

 

Nico looks at them and offers Kimi a courteous smile as he shakes his head.

 

“You did it,” he insists. “Maybe they gave you the confidence to do it, but you’re the one that drove the car.”

 

It’s easier to hear that than it is to truly believe it. If he can do it again, maybe. Three times? Then he might start to have some confidence in himself. Right now it’s just a fluke, and he’ll try to take some of the momentum from that fluke into this weekend, but he’s not expecting a win. Not when there’s hot sunshine and tight walls and nineteen other drivers all chasing down the most glorious win, the jewel in the crown, the Monaco Grand Prix. 

 

The catch up with Nico is brief, but it’s a nice one. They’ve both got a lot of work to do and in the middle of a triple-header Kimi can’t exactly stop for lunch or dinner, but he carries his words with him. If he can’t take his own belief and confidence to the track this weekend, he’ll just have to make do with taking Nico’s belief in him instead. 

 

+ + +

 

Monaco, Monaco
Sunday 25 May 2025

 

… And that belief took him to P5 in Qualifying. A few hundredths behind George in P4 is nothing to be ashamed of on a track like Monaco, but it does mean he’s almost guaranteed to finish off the podium - barring some first lap tragedy. He’s not entirely out of hope that it could happen, Charles and Max are on the front row and everyone saw what happened during the Formula 2 race this morning. Anything can happen in Monaco. 

 

He’s got a few more hours before he needs to think about that, though. He’s finished his meetings with the team, he’s just gotten done eating his lunch, and he’s loitering in the FIA’s garage at the end of the pit lane to wait for the signal to head out to the truck for the drivers’ parade. Of all the media commitments during the week, this is the one he minds the least. He has to give a brief interview, sure, but it’s only a couple of questions and then he can go back to talking to his friends and the rest of the grid whilst getting a first feel for the track. From where he’s standing he can see that Sainte Devote is much clearer, the stardust left from before has been swept away and the tarmac should be grippy as ever. He’s not going to try anything stupid, but it’s nice to know that his car will - probably - behave for him.

 

When it comes to actually climbing on board the truck, Kimi gets a first glimpse of the fans in balconies looking down over the track. What makes him laugh is the group of young men not with banners for Charles, or Ferrari, or any other team or driver on the grid, but for the Silver Spider. He hopes that his laugh isn’t going to be enough to give him away. Their handmade t-shirts are just too good for him not to give them a wave. It gets a cheer from the group. 

 

Kimi returns his focus to the task at hand, and naturally walks as though he’s glued to Ollie’s side. He’s conversing with Max who’s walking ahead of them, but it doesn’t mean he’s not going to walk with Ollie. Rather, it means that as they settle into their groups on the truck the two of them join with Ollie and his victims - Oscar and Charles.

 

The conversation that Kimi was having with Max (about the best line to take coming out of the tunnel and heading into the Nouvelle Chicane) comes to a swift end as Kimi leans back against the side of the truck and focuses his attention to the very vigorous way that Ollie’s speaking. His hands are gesturing wildly and his eyes are wide. 

 

“That’s why Esteban is the Silver Spider!” 

 

Kimi rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He’s been on the receiving end of this topic enough times now that he can just tune it out. He knows when to smile, when to nod, when to laugh and encourage him to go on. His eyes flit instead between the three others caught in this situation for the first time, assessing their responses as Ollie fills Max in on what he’s missed and starts to detail his evidence base. It’s become a fairly substantial evidence base.

 

Oscar is listening politely, but Kimi can see in his eyes that his heart just isn’t in it. Max laughs, correcting each and every flaw in Ollie’s theories and doing so with utter glee. Charles, when he returns from his interview and taps Max’s shoulder to encourage him to go along next, listens with a worrying intensity. There’s no doubt, in his mind, that Charles is being won over to this strangest of cults. 

 

He’s pulled away for his own interview when Ollie starts to detail the changes he noticed in Esteban after Friday in Jeddah. He seemed tired, irritable, more closed off than usual. And what really sealed the deal? He had a bruise on his hip.

 

His interview is quick and easy. One question about how he feels racing as the latest driver to win a Grand Prix (“yeah, it’s pretty good, but I’ve got to do it again now”), one question about how special it is to have his first race in Monaco (“it’s a historic track, everyone is excited to be here you know? It was fun in F2 last year, but this year is definitely a more special time”), and one about his chances for the day (“overtaking is difficult in Monaco, but it’s an unpredictable track. Anything can happen. I just want to keep it clean and hope something happens ahead”). When he makes it back to the group he falls into place next to Ollie, grabbing the railing behind him to balance himself in such a way that their fingers brush.

 

It’s subtle. Just as subtle as the slight pink hue that creeps up on Ollie’s face when he realises.

 

The drive around the rest of the track is fun. When Ollie’s managed to successfully convince Charles of his teammates’ secret identity - with Esteban watching on from his conversation with Lance on the other side of the truck, like he knows they’re talking about him - it ends up being a nice journey waving to marshals and fans and making predictions about how badly the mandatory two stop strategy is going to go. When the truck comes to a stop, three of them bid their goodbyes to each other (Charles and Ollie are so deep in discussion about Esteban that they have to be physically guided off the truck and led away to their respective garages), and Kimi heads back to Mercedes to get ready for the race.

 

He heads back to his driver room to get changed. In about thirty minutes he’ll climb into the car and perform a couple of reconnaissance laps before getting set up on the grid. This part of the day is a perfect, unchanging routine - one of Kimi’s favourite things - and so when he makes it back to his room there’s no surprise at all to find Sergi already there. His trainer is juggling the balls they’ll use for a warm up in a moment, throwing them all in the air and catching them.

 

“Ciao, Sergi,” Kimi says, shrugging off the silvery, space-like jacket that keeps him cool and pulling his shirt over his head. 

 

“How are you feeling about today, mate?” 

 

Kimi moves his neck back and forth to stretch as he steps out of his shoes and strips down to his underwear. After nothing of consequence happened in Imola, his body has had the chance to heal from the dual ordeals of Jeddah and Miami. Pale scar tissue is the only thing that remains to show that anything had happened to him at all, and it’s quickly hidden as he pulls his fireproofs up over his body.

 

“Ah, you know, nervous. The walls are close.” 

 

“Overtaking is impossible,” Sergi reminds him. “You don’t have to drive fast, you have to drive smart.”

 

Kimi nods, stepping into his race suit next and tugging it up to his waist. No higher, it’s too hot for it to go any higher. Instead he ties the arms together and sits down on the bench. Sergi wordlessly reaches for his head and starts to apply pressure that he has to resist. 

 

“Do you think anything is going to happen today?” Kimi asks.

 

As he asks the question his eyes focus on the mask sitting out on the little table. Kimi and Sergi are - usually - the only two that come in here. He doesn’t feel the need to hide it. And as nice as it’s been for his body to heal, he’s been permanently anxious since he first encountered Sebastian a week ago. The whole weekend was just awful, his nerves well and truly put through the wringer, and the more time that passes without something happening the worse Kimi starts to feel. It’s like an elastic band being pulled tighter and tighter, and the more it’s been pulled the more energy will be released when it finally snaps. 

 

“Not during the race,” Sergi comforts him.

 

“Have you seen him?” 

 

Sergi takes his hands from his head and Kimi gets to his feet, taking the skipping rope he’s handed and starting to jump. 

 

“Yes,” he says truthfully. “He was by the harbour last night when I went for a run.” 

 

Kimi nods, counting his jumps as always. It’s a helpful tool to ground himself today as well. He thinks as he jumps, but he can’t talk as well. If Sebastian is here, then the Hornet offers no threat whatsoever to his mother or sister back in Bologna. The only person he needs to worry about is his father.

 

And the drivers, his team, the general public… Himself. 

 

When Kimi hands the skipping rope back to Sergi he’s breathing at a slightly elevated rate, and he slides easily into position (leaning forward, knees gently bent) to catch balls and throw them back as Sergi tosses them to him.

 

“What was he doing at the harbour?”

 

“He was at a restaurant, having dinner with someone,” Sergi replies.

 

Kimi wonders how much of a double life Sebastian leads right now. He’s told as few people as possible about his powers. Only Sergi and Toto know, and that already feels like too many people. He wonders if the person he had dinner with last night knew they were having dinner with the Hornet, or if they just thought they were having dinner with a multiple World Champion? Does he gloat about what he does? Does he have a team? Surely, to have a suit and equipment as refined as wings and ‘bees’ that explode there has to be someone in the know. 

 

He catches all three balls and attempts to juggle them himself, but unlike his trainer he finds himself dropping them quickly and watching them roll away over the floor. Sergi chuckles softly, approaching to tap his shoulder lightly.

 

“You’ll get there, mate,” he encourages. “Head back to the garage. I’ll come help with your helmet.”

 

Kimi nods. He’s got a job to do right now: thinking about the Hornet will have to wait until after the race. The two walk from hospitality through the paddock and back to the garage - which is a hive of activity as final preparations for the race are made. To an onlooker it looks like complete chaos, but to those within it’s a careful dance that’s been choreographed with exquisite precision. People move around Kimi and Sergi without needing to look in their direction, the communication between minds and bodies happens silently as tyre guns whir and fuel is siphoned into the cars. Kimi’s helmet is at the back of the garage, and he nods an acknowledgement to his waving father as he pulls his balaclava over his head and Sergi, as promised, helps him with his helmet.

 

He’s climbing into the car a minute later, chatting to Bono about the reconnaissance laps. Within five minutes, he’s made it down to the Fairmont Hairpin - where Ollie overtook him during the Formula 2 Feature Race last year. It was a fun battle, but if he’s being overtaken by Ollie of all people this year then something has gone very badly wrong. 

 

Kimi completes his laps to the grid in good time and the team are there to push his car forward to his grid slot. When he climbs out, Sergi has an umbrella to shelter him from the sweltering heat and the dance goes on as it always does. He tugs his cooling jacket back on, he talks to Bono away from the cameras and microphones to make sure no one hears about their strategy for the race, and he sips on his water to hydrate as much as he can. His father joins them on the grid and Kimi smiles properly at the embrace and the peppering of kisses against his cheeks. 

 

Sergi accompanies Kimi to the front of the grid for the anthem, passing him the umbrella as he stands on his spot between Jack and Liam. When the anthem is over, the same happens in reverse, though Kimi quickly runs back into the garage to go to the bathroom after drinking more than he probably should’ve done on the grid. Who can blame him? It’s roasting hot! 

 

On his way back through the garage, as he pulls his race suit back over his torso and goes to fasten it up, Sergi slips something cool and metallic into his hands.

 

“You left these in your room,” he explains, as Kimi looks down to reveal his good luck charms.

 

Of all the circuits to almost forget about them…

 

“Thanks,” he says quietly, wrapping his hands around them once again and squeezing tightly.

 

He can’t afford to be out of luck, and something like this just goes to show how distracted his mind becomes when he thinks too hard about the Hornet and his plans. He has to focus on racing, and not on the potential destruction that could be coming the principality’s way. 

 

Nothing happened in Imola, maybe nothing will happen again.

 

As he steps out onto the grid - bright sunshine temporarily blinding him - he forces thoughts of the Hornet from his head and goes for a final chat with Bono. He plays with his charms the whole time, wondering just how much luck will rub off on him. When he hands them back to Sergi for safekeeping he can see how dull they’ve become. He needs to polish them before they lose their shine completely. For all he knows, their luck is in their shine.

 

Kimi’s back in the car in no time, and the instrumental music he’s dancing to lulls in anticipation. Strings play in isolation in his head, pianissimo and lento, as he makes his way around the track for the formation lap. The music stops completely when he focuses on the lights, and as they go out and he hits his foot to the floor the orchestra in his mind becomes a fortissimo. There’s a cacophony of notes played to an ever increasing tempo, his heart beating staccato in his chest. 

 

78 laps later, Kimi crosses the finish line in fifth place - exactly where he started - and the conductor takes a bow. 

 

Of course the dance isn’t over yet. For him, the hard work is done, but Monaco is the second race of a triple header. The team will dance to the encore as they pack down their equipment and start shipping things off to Barcelona for next weekend. Kimi picks up marbles as he makes his way back to the pit lane, pulling up in Parc Ferme as he recites the final few steps in his number. He goes to get weighed, he meets Sergi and trades his helmet for a bottle of water, he walks through the garage and feels countless hands patting him on the back for his work, and he breezes through his media obligations before he finally has a chance to rest.

 

Kimi sets an alarm on his phone to give him twenty minutes to nap after a quick shower to clean himself up. He barely manages to close his eyes before there’s a knock on his door, and he groans. Rather than getting up to answer, he just shouts and trusts that whoever is on the other side will hear him through the paper thin walls.

 

“Sto dormendo,” he declares.

 

“Wake up,” Ollie’s voice demands - and in an instant Kimi is sitting bolt upright.

 

He’s at the door in an embarrassingly short amount of time, opening it up to see the still very disheveled Ollie Bearman standing before him. He’s shirtless, with an ice vest over his torso, bruises on his arms from where his seatbelt has pressed into his skin over the course of the race, and his race suit tied around his waist. God, he looks good. He has to shift how he’s standing, hiding his body from the waist down behind the door and just peering around so Ollie doesn’t see anything he shouldn’t. And to make sure he doesn’t see the Silver Spider mask just lying on the desk behind him, too.

 

“I’m awake,” he says with a yawn.

 

“Are you coming out tonight?”

 

Kimi blinks, rubs at his eyes, and nods. Sergi might not be best pleased if he gets too drunk, but they’re in Monaco. It’s practically the law to get drunk after racing in Monaco! He’ll pay for it tomorrow, but right now it sounds nice for two reasons - because Ollie is inviting him, and because he needs to let loose and shake some of the tension from his body that seems to have worked its way into his very bones after last weekend.

 

“Sure,” he agrees. “I’ve got a team debrief in twenty five minutes.” 

 

“That’s fine,” he smiles. “I’ll text you the club. Charles is putting his card behind the bar all night.”

 

Ollie’s grinning from ear to ear, which tells Kimi that he has no plans of moderating his alcohol intake with an open bar on offer. Despite Charles offering to foot the bill, Kimi has a feeling that the drinks will be entirely complimentary all night. Their driver has just won in Monaco two years in a row, of course he’s not going to be paying for his drinks.

 

As Ollie disappears from hospitality, Kimi makes his way back to his bed. When he checks his phone he’s only got seventeen minutes left to nap now, and Ollie is lucky that Kimi likes him as much as he does. 

 

But one shortened power nap and one team debrief later, Kimi is finally walking through the streets of Monaco with Ollie and the other rookies. His jeans are tight fitting and the top four buttons of his shirt are undone. People are whistling at him as he walks side by side with Isack - Gabriel has stolen Ollie away from him, much to his dismay - though he pays them little attention. He’s off the clock right now, he doesn’t need to pay attention to anyone he doesn’t want to pay attention to. It means that, despite Isack talking to him, he’s focused entirely on the sight in front of him.

 

Ollie in exceptionally tight trousers, and a white shirt that’s just as tight (but, from the back, doesn’t warrant the same level of focus). He looks gorgeous as the light catches the curls of his hair just right, and all Kimi can think about is how much he wants to run his fingers through it, tug just a little to see what it would do to him. Maybe he’d hate it. Maybe he’d love it. He just wants to try it.

 

Plenty of the drivers are at the club when they arrive. Charles, despite having the most media commitments of anyone on the grid after a win today, looks like he’s already well and truly wasted. There’s absolutely no world in which he makes it back to his hotel room without significant support tonight. But that’s a problem for future Charles to deal with, and it’s certainly not a problem for past, present, or future Kimi. He just heads inside with the rest of the rookies, using the crowded club as an excuse to shift from Isack’s side to Ollie’s. They make it to the bar and order their drinks, and move through the mass of bodies to try and find some room on the dancefloor.

 

Kimi can’t just grab Ollie’s hand and tug him to one side. No, that would be far too obvious. Splitting off from the group has to happen organically, naturally, slowly. He has to plant the seeds to gradually peel Ollie away from them until he’s all his, until they’re dancing in a dark corner where no one can see them. He approaches this as methodically as he approaches racing, and three drinks in he’s already having a mental conversation with Bono about strategies and pulling back on entry for a better exit. It’s a good strategy, one he’s glad that’s been drilled into his brain so repeatedly he can recall it even when tipsy. When he comes back from the bar for a fourth time, he doesn’t quite join the group - pulling back on entry. It means, when he can finally snatch Ollie away, he gets that better exit.

 

He’ll text Bono a thank you later, when he’s drunk out of his mind and sharing a kebab with Ollie along the harbour. 

 

It’s impossible to know how much time has passed when he finally corners Ollie, but Kimi’s not really sure he cares about time right now. It’s dark, save for the flashing lights that illuminate the club. Kimi’s covered in sweat and beer from when he bumped into someone and their drink splashed over him. The music is so loud that he can feel his ribs shaking. It’s the perfect environment to be able to press himself against Ollie’s tall, muscular form and not care at all if anyone sees. This is the sort of thing he should be doing as a teenage race driver, not worrying about a supervillain and living in a constant state of anxiety. 

 

Nothing has happened - he’s allowed to have fun and feel good! And right now, with one hand against the slick skin of Ollie’s pectoral muscles, he feels really, really good. 

 

It’s clear Ollie feels good too, in the way that one of his arms wraps around Kimi’s waist and pulls him closer. His hand threatens to wander further down Kimi’s body and his heartbeat feels faster than it did during Qualifying. Ollie’s fingers press firmly against his lower back, harder than they would if his body wasn’t swimming with alcohol, and the possessive-like nature gives Kimi the urge to throw his arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss. He doesn’t, despite the heat in his belly telling him he needs more of Ollie. They’re going for a date in a week and he can’t ruin that by kissing Ollie too soon. Even if it would be nice - better than nice - as their bodies are pressed together, hot and sweaty in a dark corner of a club where no one can see their faces. He could taste the drink on Ollie’s lips, he could feel every inch of his body, he could grab him by the hand and drag him to a dirty bathroom stall and–

 

“I’m getting us more drinks!” Ollie shouts, leaning down to have his lips practically brushing against his ear lobe.

 

Kimi tingles - a good tingle - and he swears this boy is going to be the death of him.

 

The loss of his hand and his body is something that Kimi mourns in the moment, and he finds himself tailing Ollie towards the bar. The crowd of the club worked in his favour before, trying to escape from the other rookies, but now it’s a barrier to having Ollie against him he curses it. At least at this stage in the night, no one cares about him pushing through. Everyone is too drunk or too high to even notice his presence. They do notice when the music dies down - booing and jeering even as an announcer comes over the PA system to explain why that’s the case. 

 

Cheers return to the venue as some pop star comes out onto the small stage and breaks out into song, and Kimi bursts from the jumping crowd as he reaches the bar and makes it back to Ollie’s side. He moves his arm around Ollie’s hips and it’s his turn for his fingers to press too hard with want and desire and a need to tell the world that Ollie is his. In return, he feels an arm swing around his shoulder.

 

Kimi wants to do awful things to him.

 

The first thing slid across the bar to them is two shots, and they each take one of the small glasses. Wordlessly they clink them together and throw their heads back in unison as they down the clear liquor in one go.

 

Ollie splutters, and Kimi bends over as he howls with laughter. In the occasional flash of white light from the club’s rig Kimi can see how pink Ollie’s cheeks have turned, and it’s beyond endearing. God he wants to kiss him. He wants to climb him like a tree. He wants to take him back to his hotel room, pull off his stupid shirt and lay him down on the middle of the bed and–

 

Two more drinks are pushed towards them, bright orange and in tall glasses with wedges of citrus on the rim and a cherry in each. Ollie leans down once more to shout in his ear again.

 

“Sex on the beach!”

 

“Before our date?!” Kimi teases in return, as if his own thoughts have been entirely pure all evening.

 

The way that Ollie’s eyes widen makes him weak at the knees, and Kimi’s half tempted to sink down to them right here, right now. Sticky club floors be damned. The feeling becomes all the more encompassing when Ollie reaches into his drink and fishes out his cherry, and Kimi’s certain he’s purposefully licking it with his tongue. 

 

He reaches for his own drink and sips on it to try and distract himself from the man before him, though he still makes sure to grab Ollie’s hand and drag him back to the heart of the club. They’re invisible as they move back and forth in their little bubble, dancing and drinking and making eyes at each other. Kimi can feel the shot in his blood taking him from tipsy to the edge of drunk and he knows he’s going to pay for it tomorrow. He’ll be hungover with his head pounding and Sergi will be pushing his head under the water of an ice bath rather than offering him the sweet comfort of carbs, fats, and oils that his body will be craving. It’s worth it now, though. He takes another sip of his drink, head feeling lighter and the club feeling smaller. He’s practically tripping over Ollie now, he can feel what he assumes is his belt buckle pressed against his stomach, but he still doesn’t feel like he’s close enough. 

 

Kimi takes another drink of his cocktail, and as he feels the sweet syrupy mixture move down his throat he feels his wrist tingle.

 

No. 

 

Kimi takes a step back, stumbling over his own feet as he withdraws his hand from Ollie’s chest. He shakes his arm, but that doesn’t stop the tingling sensation. As a last resort, he thrusts his half empty glass into Ollie’s hand and pinches his wrist harshly. It still tingles.

 

“Kimi?” Ollie asks, looking at him in confusion.

 

He’s not sure how he manages to hear Ollie speaking his name so softly against the sound of the club, but it’s as impossible to ignore as the fact that his wrist is still tingling. He can’t ignore it - not when it means that people are in trouble. It could just be vandalism, like in Melbourne, but it could be like Jeddah or Miami. He’s the one person in the principality who’s capable of stepping up to the task of protecting people from the Hornet. 

 

Kimi almost feels guilty about how hard of a decision it is to make. He never got to be a kid - always busy working to become a better racer - and now he’s having to sacrifice the few moments he gets to be a young adult too. But waking up in bed alongside Ollie tomorrow with a hangover to the news of hundreds dead in an attack from the Hornet will haunt him if he doesn’t go, so he bites his lip and takes another step back.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll be back.”

 

He doesn’t give Ollie the opportunity to reply before he starts to push his way through the mass of sweaty, intoxicated bodies and worms his way towards the exit of the club. Kimi bursts out into the open, the cool evening air snapping him into sobriety, and runs out into the street. He just barely dodges two cars as he sprints across the road without a second thought, offering them a wave of apology as they honk their horns whilst he runs to the wall on the opposite side of the street. 

 

The club they were in is deep in Monte-Carlo, and he’s got an excellent vantage point over most of the principality. His eyes scan the horizon, squinting against the pinks and oranges and deep violets of the setting sun to try and identify anything that’s amiss. In the background he can still hear club music thumping, but thoughts of partying have been quickly forgotten and replaced now with dread and fear that’s embedded in his soul. Something was always going to happen, how could he have been so foolish as to think he could let himself relax like this?!

 

Eventually he spots what he’s looking for - with the help of some tourists beside him who point at the sky and gasp. The Swarm is hovering over Port Hercule like an ominous cloud, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to act. There’s too many people around to be able to use his powers to his advantage right now, so he has to run to his hotel rather than swing. It means it takes longer than he wants it to, but he makes up for it by changing into his suit as quickly as he possibly can. 

 

As he steps into his boots, his fingers briefly touch his lucky charms sitting on the bedside table. Going out without doing that would just be asking for something terrible to happen. He pulls his gloves and mask on, snaps the bracelets around his wrists into place, and runs onto the balcony only to dive off a moment later. He catches himself with his webs before he hits the tarmac below and catapults himself forwards as he swings through the tight, winding streets of the principality towards the harbour. 

 

It’s busy. Everywhere he looks there’s people. Fans, team personnel, drivers, and the regular citizens of Monaco. As he swings by people look up and take photos of him, and he wants to scream at them all. Why are they stopping and staring?! He’s trying to protect them from certain death at the hands of the Hornet and they’re ogling him! They should be running, taking shelter, calling their loved ones in case he fails.

 

Kimi flings himself on top of an apartment complex, catching himself and balancing on the edge to observe the situation. The Swarm hasn't descended yet, and Kimi hasn’t seen the Hornet anywhere. He’s ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice, but without knowing what’s about to happen he can’t move too soon. If he heads in the wrong direction, or does the wrong thing, then that’s precious seconds he’s losing in the race against time to save people’s lives. 

 

But nothing is happening, Kimi’s just in a stalemate with the Swarm and the unseen villain. 

 

The longer nothing happens, the worse Kimi feels. The Swarm still hovers, watching the people below, and after several quiet, lonely minutes on top of the apartment building Kimi decides to do something. He hopes, and prays, that it’s the right something. He swings down from the apartment, and lands at the harbour, starting to shout to everyone around him.

 

“You need to go!” He calls urgently.

 

But the wealthy partygoers are far more interested in the sound of the music they’re dancing to, and as Kimi pushes past a crowd who shout and jeer at him as he rushes onto the closest yacht to shore their attention is on the sound of popping champagne bottles and lines of illicit substances. 

 

“Hello?!” He calls, flabbergasted by their dedication to ignoring him. “Guys! You’re in danger! You’re supposed to run!” 

 

His words don’t get through to them, and even when he grabs a man by the shoulder and shakes him in an attempt to force some semblance of common sense into him, he’s just brushed away. Everyone here is drunk, rich, and young. They think they’re invincible, untouchable, and are far more focused on having fun than saving their own lives.

 

Kimi runs around the yacht, doing his damnendest to find someone that will listen to him, but no one wants to leave. Despite the Swarm hovering above, there’s more for these people to gain by being on the yacht than leaving. Social media clout, scantily clad women, cocaine, people with power and influence over politics and media… Everyone wants something, and that something is on these yachts. The situation is repeated when he swings across to the next boat - larger and further away from solid ground. Nothing changes on the third. The futility of it all kills him, it’s as if these people don’t even want to live!

 

But he has to try, and that’s what he does. In his desperation he convinces few more than a dozen people to return to shore. The message to the rest of those on boats doesn’t get through to them until there’s an explosion thirty feet above them.

 

In the blink of an eye, everything changes.

 

Fire rains down on the yacht Kimi’s standing on and panic erupts as the sound of the explosion ripples through the crowd. As people panic around him, Kimi keeps his ground and looks up at the Swarm. It’s not just the Swarm anymore. The Hornet is among them, flying in with his wings and commanding his Swarm with practiced ease. If the race weekend was a choreographed dance, then watching the Hornet direct his ‘bees’ is like going to the theatre to watch the ballet. Chaos unfolds as the ‘bees’ buzz and beep, running without any real thought as they try to evacuate the ship. Some are sensible enough to climb aboard the lifeboats being deployed, others take their chances with the deep waters of the harbour and throw themselves overboard, and Kimi is about to jump after them to rescue those too inebriated to swim when there’s further explosions behind him.

 

Some guests are running for cover deeper in the yachts, and ‘bees’ are following them. 

 

His eyes widen behind his mask and he spins on his heels, disoriented as he tries desperately to think of the right thing to do. Everything is happening, everywhere, all at once. This isn’t like Jeddah, where he could take the Swarm’s whole attention. This isn’t like Miami, where there was only one kind of danger. 

 

He’s hit with the realisation that he can’t save them all.

 

Choosing who deserves to live and who deserves to die is a horrible feeling. He’s an eighteen year old racing driver, not God. Who is he to hold such power over the fates of so many people?

 

The longer he doesn’t make a decision, the worse things get for both parties, so he goes with his gut and runs after the guests that have fled inside. He hopes that those struggling in the water will be pulled onto the lifeboat by fellow guests, or that emergency services will see them and reach them before the current pulls them under. Hopefully he’ll be able to encourage the guests out of their hiding spots and lead them to safety.

 

Hopefully he’s made the right choice.

 

The ‘bees’ are persistent little things, pests that beep whenever Kimi gets too close. Without knowing how to disable them, the best Kimi can hope for is to bait them into exploding. He catches them in his web, pulls them close, and balls them up in his fists to cushion the blast. The suit is fireproof and bulletproof, which protects him from the worst of the effects of holding a miniature explosion in his palm, but each blast takes its toll on the durability of his suit. He can’t do this forever, so he hurries deeper into the boat.

 

“Hello?!” Kimi shouts as he meanders through, looking in every room he passes for sheltering people. “I’m here to help you!”

 

Kimi can hear footsteps, so he follows them. He rounds a corner to find himself firmly in the belly of the yacht, with half a dozen ‘bees’ in his sight and just as many people. Innocent, terrified people. His arrival captures their attention, and the fear in their eyes turns into a glimmer of hope that spurs him onwards. His reputation already precedes him, and he won’t let these people - or anyone else - down. He shoots out his web, capturing all six of the ‘bees’ hovering before those people, and he pulls them back tightly to him. Six is more than he can necessarily hold in his hand in one go, so he doubles over and holds them against his stomach, fingers interwoven to make sure there’s no way a ‘bee’ can escape and that none of the energy from the explosion can either. This time, when they explode, there’s a horrible pain in his left hand.

 

Kimi looks down to see that his glove has been entirely worn down from explosion after explosion, and what’s left behind is a bloodied and burned palm filled with tiny pieces of metal shrapnel. He grits his teeth together as he exhales, the worst of the hurt hidden by adrenaline. Sergi will help him later, for now he has to help these people. 

 

“Come on,” he encourages the group, masking any sign of pain so he doesn’t scare them.

 

There’s four young women and two young men between them, and Kimi does his best to try and reassure the most terrified looking of them with a gentle hand - his right hand, of course - on their shoulder. As long as he does his duty, these people will be safe.

 

“We need to get out,” he explains. “Back to shore. There’s still a lifeboat left.”

 

The six nod wordlessly, and Kimi lets one of the men lead the way as he stays with the more anxious members of the group to encourage them forward. They barely make it to the doorway before they’re stopped by the looming figure of the Hornet. His silhouette blocks the exit in its entirety, and Kimi quickly looks over his shoulder to confirm that there’s no other exit in sight. 

 

He feels the group backing up towards him when he turns back around. Five members of the group, anyway. The sixth tries to move back when the Hornet reaches out and grabs his throat, holding him in place whilst the pincers of his mask move back and forth threateningly. There’s a mechanical whir as they move, though Kimi can only hear it for a beat before the shouts and cries of the others fill the air, along with the man’s desperate, incoherent pleading for his life as he tries in vain to struggle against the Hornet’s grip. 

 

“Let him go!” Kimi shouts, pushing forward through the group. 

 

The Hornet doesn’t listen to him, he just leans closer to the man. His pincers are almost close enough to trim the hairs on his chin when Kimi shoves him aside. It’s not gentle at all, but he needs to use a substantial amount of force to break the Hornet’s grip and ascertains that a fall would be far less traumatic of an experience than… Whatever the Hornet had planned for him.

 

Kimi takes advantage of the moment, the man on the floor and the Hornet staring at his empty grasp with what he can only assume is a burning, raging fury. He pushes him backwards, out of the doorway, leaving the exit open for the rest of the group to escape as he becomes the Hornet’s sole focus. He doesn’t know what’s happening above deck, but he can only hope it’s a safer place for those people to run to than remaining here is. He hopes the Swarm can’t operate independently of him. He hopes–

 

All of a sudden, there’s a boot against Kimi’s stomach and he’s stumbling backwards. His suit offers him protection against a lot of things, but the blunt force of a foot kicking him barely feels different than it would do if he was completely naked. He doesn’t catch himself before he backs up against a wall, only then attempting to steady himself whilst he gasps for air and blinks away the tears in his eyes. Kimi sways forward, pressing his hands on his knees, and he can feel the Hornet watching him like he’s his dinner. 

 

A chill runs down Kimi’s spine. He’s the prey, staring into the false eyes of a predator.

 

The Hornet strikes again, but Kimi reacts fast enough to dodge the blow and return one of his own. His right fist collides with the Hornet’s mask, making his fingers ache as he punches the metal apparatus rather than his mask covered cheek. He bites down on his tongue as he focuses on the fact that the Hornet has grabbed hold of his arm and is now using all of his strength to push him. Kimi’s feet stumble over the ground, and a pathetic attempt to remain upright quickly comes to naught as he’s overpowered with worrying ease. The Hornet moves over him, legs straddling his waist and hands holding his wrists high above his head. Kimi grunts and groans with effort as he attempts to push back against him, but to no avail. His movements only become more desperate as the Hornet begins to lean down and the pincers of his mask start to move once again. 

 

His suit can protect him from most things, but Kimi has no idea what those pincers are capable of. Can they pierce metal? Does that even matter if the Hornet just chooses to take his mask off?! Will they break his skin and crush his bones? Is some kind of poison going to be injected into his veins?

 

The answer comes sooner than Kimi would like it to, with the Hornet leaning lower and lower until the sharp tips of his pincers press against his suit. The thin layer of protection is all that stands between him and a mangled clavicle, but that protection is under threat as the pincers move back and forth with an ear shredding noise that Kimi can feel in his teeth. He sets his jaw and closes his eyes, focusing all of his energy on pushing the Hornet away from him. 

 

He has to do this. He can’t die like this. Not before he’s gone on his date with Ollie.

 

Kimi strains and gasps, reaching up with his bloodied left hand to grab hold of the antenna on the side of the Hornet’s mask, and with all of his strength he pulls. The Hornet isn’t at all pleased by this, and Kimi uses his divided attention as an opportunity to kick him back. The antenna snaps as the Hornet is forced backwards and Kimi jumps to his feet, not sure when he’s going to get another chance, but before he can make use of having the upper hand the world shakes beneath him.

 

His eyes widen.

 

Somewhere on the yacht, a ‘bee’ has just exploded.

 

The boat tilts to one side, ever so slightly.

 

There’s a breach.

 

The Hornet is already running, making his way out of the corridor they’re in, and Kimi tries his best to follow him. He doesn’t get very far as more blasts make the yacht jerk to the side, and that slight tilt quickly becomes a substantial one. He can’t stop himself from falling, not when the vessel is suddenly at a significant angle, and he lands on the floor with a hard thud. His body aches as he slides to the side of the corridor, only coming to a stop when he lands in the valley that used to be the intersection of wall and floor. There’s no question about it - the yacht is sinking - and Kimi needs to get off as quickly as he can. So he takes a breath, he gets back to his feet, and he stretches out his arms to balance himself as he takes a few uncertain steps forwards. He’s just getting the hang of walking when he hears a shout.

 

The yacht is moving back and forth, not at all steady at this angle, which makes it an awful lot more difficult to remain still and listen to what’s happening. The crash of the waves on the side of the ship drowns out a lot, and so does the sound of furniture being displaced and pictures falling, but he can still just about make out a voice. A woman.

 

“Help!” 

 

The broken cry sounds like it’s from behind him. There’s a chance, sure, that it’s from someone on the deck above him. But if she was on the deck then surely she’d be visible to people from the shore. Surely help would already be on the way. If help isn’t already on the way then Kimi can only deduce that she’s still on the yacht. 

 

The yacht that’s currently sinking.

 

The floor shakes again as something else explodes, and Kimi can’t tell if there’s more ‘bees’ or if the ship is just so badly damaged that an engine is on fire. He has no choice - he has to go back, find this woman, rescue her or die trying. When did he become such a noble, self-sacrificing idiot?

 

Kimi starts to make his way deeper into the yacht, doing everything he can to keep his balance. As he walks on what was once a wall he spots a bright red box with a glass cover, ‘break in case of emergency’ written on the sides in half a dozen languages. Kimi does as the box instructs and punches the glass right his right hand, only adding to the plethora of injuries Sergi is going to have to patch up later, but he retrieves something important. A flare gun. The sun had been setting when he left the club, by the time he makes it out of the ship there’s a good chance he and the survivor are going to be two lost souls in a dark, inky black sea. 

 

“Hello?!” He shouts out as he starts moving again. “I’m here, you’re going to be okay! Keep talking!”

 

There’s a moment of silence and Kimi finds himself already fearing the worst. Could she have been injured in an explosion - either from the blast directly or something falling and landing on her? Is she unconscious? Is she already dead?! He can’t bear the weight of an innocent life on his conscience! But after what feels like a lifetime, he’s granted the mercy of a response.

 

“Please, help!” 

 

Her voice is tearful and shaky. Clearly she is at the very least hurt enough that she can’t get herself out of this situation, but she’s still conscious. Kimi clings onto that as he tries to run along the wall in the direction of her voice.

 

“What’s your name?!” Kimi calls.

 

He doesn’t care really - a name doesn’t affect whether or not he can save her - but it’s a way to keep her talking without frightening her. And as long as she keeps talking, he can keep following her voice to locate her.

 

“Emma!”

 

She calls back as Kimi stumbles around doors that hang open and shattered picture frames. The yacht keeps tilting, the angle becoming more extreme with every passing second, and he can hear furniture being dislodged in rooms as he passes them by.

 

“What happened?” He calls out to her.

 

He shoots his web and winces at just how much it hurts as he swings himself across a junction in the hallway that’s become a chasm over the last few minutes, careful not to fall down the corridor turned pit. When she shouts this time, her voice comes from above. It’s a disorienting and frightening concept, but Kimi pushes thoughts from his mind entirely to rely on instinct alone.

 

“Everything fell,” she answers. “The door, it’s barricaded shut. I think my arm is broken. I can’t move it.”

 

Great! As if this situation wasn’t already impossible enough! The door is barricaded from the inside and Emma can’t do anything to help thanks to her injury. They’re going to die here together. 

 

No. He can’t let them die, either of them. He makes sure the safety is on the flare gun before he shoves it barrel first down the tears in his suit, then raises his left arm to shoot himself up towards the other wall - or the ceiling, now - and uses his still gloved, adhesive covered right hand to dangle in place as he tries to get as close to the door as he can. There’s got to be some way he can open it, but he’s got to figure that out quickly because a swift glance below is enough to spy water starting to leak into the corridor. 

 

He doesn’t have long to find a solution.

 

Kimi focuses back on the door as closely as he can, trying to find any imperfection that could be exploited. A crack or a chip would be sufficient, but what he spots instead is a narrow gap by the hinges. With limited time, it’s the best shot he’s got. 

 

He uses all of his strength to keep himself dangling in the same position - his right shoulder starting to go numb - and he lines up his left wrist with the gap. Most of the time, his driver training does little to help him in this line of work, but right now he needs a steady, precise aim and the ability to hold his breathing and his blinking until a more opportune moment. Kimi shoots his web, only exhaling when he feels it anchor on something within the room.

 

“Any good?” He calls. 

 

“What is that?!” Comes a petrified shriek in response.

 

Kimi doesn’t take it personally. He hadn’t thought about the need for formal introductions, and perhaps it would be polite of him - and useful - for Emma to know who her saviour is.

 

“It’s the Silver Spider,” he says. “The real Spiderman. I’m kind of a big deal.”

 

Beneath him, a door is forced off its hinges through the pressure of water and suddenly it’s rising an awful lot faster than before. Back to business.

 

“Is my web anywhere near what’s blocking the door?”

 

“It’s on the opposite wall.”

 

Kimi’s not exactly expecting good news, but he still curses quietly beneath his breath. The more the water creeps up, the more unstable the yacht becomes, and the harder it is to think clearly. If he were to leave now he’d probably be able to make it out alive, but he’d be condemning this woman to death. There has to be another way.

 

“Can you move at all?” He asks. “Whatever is in front of the door - a desk, a wardrobe - can you eh… Open a drawer? Or a cabinet?”

 

“I’ll try!”

 

Kimi has no choice but to hang there and listen to the sound of water rising higher and higher, broken only by the sounds of pain as the woman tries to move herself in the room. Ironically, as the yacht continues to tip, movement is becoming easier once more. The angle has become so extreme now that the wall is almost flat, and that - Kimi hopes - will make it less of an uphill battle for Emma to make it so Kimi can shoot his web. Another explosion rocks the yacht as he waits - accompanied by a whimper from the woman above him. Some insurance company is going to go bankrupt over this. 

 

By the time Emma shouts for Kimi to try again, the water is at his feet. It’s cold and full of debris from the rapidly sinking boat, but he focuses entirely on aiming and shooting his web between the gap in the door. And this time, when it sticks to something, he’s managed to anchor himself to a cabinet door. Once he’s sure it’s secure he pulls with all of his might, eyes closed as he strains to try and move it. His body aches, and energy is being rapidly drained from him with every passing second, but he’s rewarded with a scream and a splash as the furniture is dislodged, the door opens, and the young woman falls into the water beside him. It’s waist deep when he cuts off his web and abandons his right glove to the ceiling, and Kimi ducks his head down beneath the water to grab her. 

 

He slips Emma carefully into his arms, pulling her back up towards the air, doing everything he can to not disturb what is very clearly a broken bone. He treads water and gasps as he assesses the situation they’re in.

 

His initial assessment? Things look bleak. Water is flooding in at a rate of knots, there’s no choice but to swim to safety. The universe has shown him pity in the fact that the water isn’t terribly cold, but it’s not so warm that he’d like to spend an extended amount of time in it. He at least knows he won’t go into a state of shock as they try to escape, but trying to navigate a flooded ship on its side in darkness is going to be enough of a challenge on its own. Besides, Kimi has (most of) a protective suit on, he’s not going to feel the cold anywhere near as much as Emma does.

 

“I need you to take a deep breath,” he tells her as he paddles slowly towards one of the doors. “And close your eyes, okay? Don’t breathe or open your eyes until we surface, understand?”

 

A look of terror crosses her face, but she nods her head obediently and snaps her eyes shut. Once she’s taken a gulp of air Kimi ducks his head down and plunges them both down through the doorframe into an entirely flooded corridor.

 

He’s not sure why he expected otherwise, but Kimi’s surprised when he can’t breathe. He thought, stupidly in retrospect, that his suit might have something for a situation like this. But it doesn’t. And when he tries to inhale he’s immediately spluttering to eject water from his lungs. Shit. Without any air, he’s probably got a minute before he passes out and they both drown in the sinking ship.

 

Kimi’s come this far, he’s not going to give up now.

 

He tries to kick his legs sparingly and calculates each kick to deliver the perfect amount of propulsion to carry them forwards. He needs to balance getting out quickly with moving as little as possible to ration the little oxygen left in his bloodstream. At least with the cameras in his suit he can see where he’s coming, dodging debris from the countless explosions and navigating the flooded corridors more easily than if he were unsighted. It’s an advantage that starts to fade as the salt water trickles into his compromised suit and the electrical components begin to falter. Gradually, the cameras begin to shut off.

 

He has eight. Then seven. Then six.

 

It’s not the navigation that’s difficult, really. Even with a decreasing field of view, what’s hard is the fact that every motion leaves him with less and less oxygen. The act of refusing to breathe leaves him with a tightness in his throat and chest. Making decisions about which way to go becomes harder. Despite the fact that he’s still got five functional cameras to compose an image of his surroundings, his vision is reducing exponentially. There’s a darkness around the edges of what he can see, and his thoughts grow foggy as he enters yet another corridor.

 

Is he lost? Surely the ship can’t have this many corridors! He must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, must’ve circled back on himself. Maybe he’s doomed to be down here forever. He and Emma will be found by divers searching through the wreckage in the morning, or if they’re unlucky the sinking ship will crush them and bury their bodies in a watery grave - never to be rediscovered.

 

With so little air left in his lungs and a burning in his chest, it would be easy to let that thought become a reality. Kimi relies on his gut to guide him as he kicks weakly. His hands sting, his whole body aches, his mind is screaming for relief. 

 

He makes his way through a doorway and, finally, he can see it. He can see the deck. There’s searchlights sweeping back and forth over the surface of the water - helicopters looking for people to save. He wishes they could see the two of them, that someone would come to pull them up so his weak body can rest, but no one is coming. No one is coming and Kimi has to keep kicking. He has to keep kicking.

 

He can’t keep kicking.

 

The light is fading and his muscles are failing, fatigued and starved of vital oxygen. He can’t make it. He can’t kick anymore. The rippling surface is so close, but too far. He opens his mouth and a few bubbles escape him, swirling up towards the surface. The last bit of control he has over his body gives way to instinct and he can’t fight the urge to inhale any longer. His eyes sting as he feels water rush into his nose and mouth. He knows the water is filling his lungs, but there’s no physical sensation. He just feels completely and utterly overwhelmed, fear blossoming in his chest and surging through him with every failed breath he takes. His body is heavy, too heavy to swim towards the surface anymore. 

 

The world around him is dark. 

 

With every second that passes, he becomes more and more helpless. The fear makes it impossible to move, the darkness becomes blacker than night. Every so often he feels like he might have a little bit more energy, and he tries desperately to kick himself higher, but he can’t. He tries to shout, but that just results in more water flooding his lungs. 

 

Just as he’s about to give up, he thinks about Emma. The woman in his arms, eyes closed and mouth shut as she holds her breath. He can’t die yet, not until he’s saved her.  

 

So with one final wisp of strength still left in him, Kimi uses his free hand to reach for the flare gun tucked into his suit and clicks the safety off. He holds it up high, moves one finger onto the trigger, and presses down as hard as he can. He doesn’t know if it’ll work underwater, but it’s the only chance he’s got. 

 

As the flare launches high above him and the sky turns red, a searchlight from one of the helicopters illuminates the water around them. Kimi doesn’t know how much time passes between firing the flare and the sound of an idling engine filling his ears. He barely perceives what happens over the next few moments, though he feels Emma lifted out of his embrace. And then he feels two arms wrap beneath his own, pulling him up towards the surface.

 

When cold, sweet oxygen rushes through his lips and down his windpipe, Kimi starts to splutter. He feels his body positioned over the side of the boat, several pairs of hands dragging him on board, and he lifts his own shaky arms high enough to push his mask above his mouth so his lungs can reject the water they’ve filled with. The process is painful, his throat burns, but with every second that passes his breathing becomes easier. His body becomes lighter. His vision starts to return to him.  

 

It takes several minutes for him to be able to do more than just choke. He slumps back against the side of the rescue dinghy, a gentle hand on his back rubbing soft circles to comfort him. It’s grounding. He manages to look to his side, where Emma is bundled up into a blanket to keep her warm and dry, and then he twists his head the other way to look back at the sinking vessel behind them. The yacht they were on is firmly on its side now, with a fire burning and thick smoke rising into the night sky. Despite its state, music still fills the air around them. 

 

Pass that bottle, gobble, gobble! Make that beat go wobble, wobble!

 

Kimi isn’t entirely convinced that he isn’t dead. 

 

Their rescuers look between themselves, unsure of what to do with Kimi as wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and repositions his mask over his face. As disorienting as the music is, he’s thankful that the sound of waves hitting the side of the boat and rocking him back and forth isn’t all he can hear right now.

 

The best way to get over what’s just happened, he decides, is to ignore it entirely and focus on what still needs to happen. He looks around, surveying his surroundings. The port is full of emergency services trying their best to get a handle on the situation, what was a street circuit half a dozen hours ago has become a field hospital tending to the wounds of the injured as police coral worried friends and family to prevent a stampede. 

 

That’s not what Kimi’s looking for though. 

 

“Where did he go?” Kimi asks, coughing as he looks at those in orange life jackets surrounding them.

 

“Who?” 

 

“The Hornet. Where did he go? He escaped, I have to stop him!”

 

The rescuers exchange another shared glance, but they have no answer for Kimi. It’s not what he wants, not when he’s already so weak, but he’s not going to let the Hornet get away with this. He allows a blanket to be placed over his own shoulders whilst he tries to recuperate enough energy to formulate thoughts and deliver another attack. He had the upper hand before the boat started to sink - he can do this!

 

A strong gust of wind makes his palms sting again, and Kimi looks down at his injuries. His left hand looks considerably worse than the right - the former burned and bloody whereas the latter is covered in bruises, and one deep gash across his palm. He must’ve caught it on some debris when he was swimming and didn’t have a chance to notice it.

 

“Do you want help with that?” One of his rescuers asks, and Kimi shakes his head.

 

“I’m fine,” he replies. “It’ll heal. Just take care of her.”

 

His request is heeded, and the rest of the journey is quiet as Emma’s broken arm is put into a sling and a second blanket is draped over her shoulder as she shivers. Kimi shouldn’t feel guilty about the fact that he couldn’t prevent her injuries, she’d be dead if he hadn’t intervened.

 

Eventually, the dinghy is close enough to land that Kimi can use his webs to swing away from the water. It’s faster than he could hope to walk and find a new vantage point to observe the principality. He won’t rest until the Hornet is gone and these people are safe. None of them deserve to be hurt or killed, no matter what the Hornet is trying to do. His understanding of his motivations are shaky at best, and that makes it difficult to know how to stop him.

 

Kimi makes his way to a better vantage point, which ends up being the Museum of Oceanography, and he gazes out over the city. The stars in the night sky would’ve been obscured by the light pollution in the area, but he still finds himself disappointed that he can’t see them through the clouds of smoke. There’s a distinct smell of oil in the air, and he has a dreadful feeling that the sinking yacht is the cause of that.

 

For an environmentalist turned ecoterrorist, the Hornet has a way of picking his targets.

 

Pausing for a moment gives Kimi a chance to feel the aches and pains in his body, and in the back of his mind he knows that Spain is going to be a terrible time, but his focus right now is on his wrists. He can still feel the tingling sensation, which means that the Hornet still presents a danger in some capacity to the people of Monaco. Despite saving a handful already, Kimi isn’t about to let himself slack off. He watches the rescue efforts in the harbour diligently, just in case the Hornet reappears to launch a second assault against the already suffering people. 

 

He doesn’t, though. He spots a flash of yellow and black to the west. Kimi wastes no time at all in jumping back into action - even though the process of standing up makes him sway back and forth on shaky legs. Shooting out his webs is easy enough, though he feels a pull in his aching shoulders as he swings along the street towards the Palace. Any other evening, he can imagine it would be a beautiful place for a walk. But right now, as he follows the unified gaze of the crowd to the slanted terracotta tiled roof, his evening goes decidedly from bad to worse.

 

Kimi needs a new rating system, because this… This is so much more awful than just worse. The only way he can really think to describe this is absolutely cataclysmic.

 

On top of the Palace stands the Hornet, but he isn’t alone. He’s got a personal hostage in his arms.

 

He’s got Ollie. 

 

Kimi takes a breath. He has to focus. He’s a superhero, he saves people , but as he pushes his way to the front of the crowd he finds that his mind is just repeating Ollie’s name over and over. Sebastian spent all of last weekend threatening to hurt his sister, and that had been enough to place him in a fugue state of paranoia for a week, but this isn’t a threat anymore. He has Ollie. This is a deliberate move. Sebastian saw them talking last weekend at the track, there’s every chance he overheard the conversation they had. Holding Ollie by the scruff of his neck is a clear demonstration of the power he holds over Kimi, that he can manipulate him and terrify him by targeting the people he cares about the most.

 

And the worst part is that it’s working.

 

Kimi breaks free of the crowd, stepping forward as confidently as he can to stand in the pale semi-circle of cobblestones. He tries to hold himself like he’s not personally affected by the situation, like Ollie is just another random citizen he needs to save, like there’s no emotional stakes whatsoever. Despite that, he can’t stop the gears in his head ticking away. He’s exhausted, he barely managed to save himself and Emma, he’s injured. How much more does he have to give tonight?

 

What if this is the first hurdle he falls at? What if this is his first failure?

 

Kimi takes a deep breath as he looks up, and even without being able to see behind the mask he’s certain that Sebastian is smirking down at him from the safety of his disguise.

 

“Fly boy!” He calls.

 

Perhaps goading him isn’t the right play right now. If he presses too many buttons and annoys the Hornet too much, it could be all the impetus he needs to push Ollie over the edge. The teasing, cocky confidence is part of what makes him the Silver Spider, but he’s terrified that his persona might be the very thing that gets Ollie killed. 

 

“Incy Wincy,” the Hornet replies.

 

The tit for tat insult is a relief. Right now they’re putting on a pantomime for the crowd, Ollie probably isn’t going to die in the next few moments.

 

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up.”

 

Kimi doesn’t respond to that - he can’t without giving himself away - and instead just stares up intently. Whilst the roof is slanted, there’s a half wall between the Hornet and the edge. There’s a balcony just below. Maybe he can use that to his advantage? To do what, though? He’s trying to calculate exactly what’s going to happen, but with his mind and body as exhausted as they are it’s difficult to tell. Without knowing what the Hornet is going to do, he doesn’t know how to play the game. And if he can’t play the game, he can’t cheat the game. He can’t be one step ahead, all he can hope to do is respond as best as he can to the Hornet’s hand. 

 

He’s at a disadvantage in every aspect.

 

Kimi focuses on Ollie as he breathes. His friend looks afraid, but unharmed. For now that will have to do. He can save him, he just needs to figure out how. 

 

“Leave him alone,” he says firmly. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

 

There are a thousand eyes on him as the crowd watches the interaction with baited breath.

 

“He’s done plenty wrong,” the Hornet scowls. “You all have. The world is burning. This city is the diamond in the cesspit, a monument to greed.”

 

Kimi swallows. There’s little he can do to defend a city like Monaco from an accusation like that. His family were wealthy enough to feed him through the junior ranks of motorsports, yet he would look like a pauper to the rest of the principality if they could see into his bank account. Monaco is the home of the filthy rich, and few of them got that way through entirely selfless, ethical acts. But that doesn’t mean they - or the rest of the world - deserve to suffer.

 

“The world is getting better,” Kimi tries. “Everyone is getting better, eh? The world is changing! It takes time! Killing people isn’t going to help!”

 

“But you’re all listening to me now,” the Hornet says darkly.

 

Kimi is reminded of Suzuka, when Sebastian tried to talk to the rookies about sustainability in Formula 1. Ollie had been focused on his lunch, Jack and Isack were whispering and giggling. Gabriel was on his phone. They weren’t listening. 

 

“We’re listening now!” Kimi urges. “Please! Put Ollie down, he doesn’t deserve this! Stop the violence, we can talk!”

 

The Hornet shifts his hold on Ollie as his wings start to beat, carrying both of them into the air. Kimi’s words have ironically fallen on deaf ears, and the crowd gasps as Ollie starts to panic. He’s trying to fidget, desperately wriggling to get free, but that would be a terrible thing for him to do right now. He’d fall and hurt himself. Maybe it would be better than the alternative, but Kimi can’t stand the idea of him getting hurt at all. He opens his eyes to try and negotiate again, but before Kimi can make a sound there’s a raucous going on behind him.

 

Two dozen men surround the front of the Palace, uniformed and armed, and they aim their guns at the Hornet. At Ollie. 

 

“Stop!” Kimi demands, spinning on his heels to face them as he raises his hands. “No one needs to get hurt!”

 

He’s not had a sudden change of heart about the Hornet, but he has Ollie. He can’t let Ollie get hurt!

 

“Let Ollie go and we can figure this out!”

 

No one is listening to him. It would be poetic if it wasn’t so frustrating. Despite being a superhero, his words have very little effect on a regiment of soldiers taking orders from their commander. The Hornet, of course, has even less of a reason to listen. Kimi has no authority over anyone in this situation, but Ollie is the one in danger and he’s not going to let something as silly as an army get in the way of protecting his friend. He storms right up to one of the guards and snatches a gun right out of his hand. 

 

He’s acutely aware of the fact that as he does, the rest of the soldiers turn as one and aim their guns at him, but he doesn’t care.

 

Whatever it takes to keep Ollie safe, he’ll do it.

 

“Oh, the little spider bites,” the Hornet chuckles from where he hovers above the crowd. “Oliver gets your web in a knot, doesn’t he?”

 

“Let. Him. Go.” Kimi says darkly, raising his gun and pointing it squarely at the Hornet’s head. 

 

He’s fairly certain his suit will be bulletproof too, and even if it’s not he can’t exactly shoot him whilst Ollie’s so high above the ground, but this is the best intimidation tactic he’s got right now.

 

“You’re protective of this one,” the Hornet gloats. “What will you give me to keep him safe?”

 

“Give you?!” Kimi scoffs, but the Hornet isn’t laughing at all - he’s serious. 

 

“I could kill him, right now,” he threatens.

 

And he proves his point by flying higher. A fall from this height wouldn’t mean a broken leg or a fractured skull, it would mean death in no uncertain terms. Ollie whimpers.

 

“But he’s important to you, Spider. So what will you give me?”

 

Kimi growls. He moves his finger to hover over the trigger. He can’t shoot him, and he’s sure the Hornet knows this… But what if he did? Maybe he could shoot out his web fast enough to catch Ollie in it if he fell, he could bring him down to the ground safely and take off after the Hornet himself. He’s not going to be caught off guard again, he won’t be overpowered again, he’s got adrenaline pumping through his veins and his exhaustion is a thing of the past. 

 

“Do it,” the Hornet dares him, his pincers moving threateningly close to Ollie’s head.

 

Kimi can feel the cool night air against the scratches in the metal of his suit, the thought of what they could do to Ollie’s flesh and bones is more horrifying than anything else he can think of. It becomes a question of how fast the Hornet can react. Kimi’s young, he’s actively driving in Formula 1, he lives his life one thousandth of a second at a time. He believes in himself. The question is whether or not he believes in the Hornet too. Would Ollie be dead before any bullet from his gun even has a chance to deflect off the Hornet’s suit? Or, maybe, he’s calling Kimi’s bluff, betting he’ll second guess himself and not shoot. Once again, Kimi finds himself faced with an impossible question, with the line between right and wrong more blurred than ever.

 

It’s almost a relief that Kimi doesn’t get to decide, but as the small army of men fire up at the Hornet first that relief is short lasting.

 

The Hornet flies higher, Ollie still with him, and Kimi looks back at the soldiers angrily.

 

“You idiots!” He shouts.

 

As a consequence, he opts not to hand the gun back as he shoots out his web to swing between buildings and follow the Hornet through the principality. 

 

The chaos of the yacht sinking and the gunshots by the Palace means that no one looks up as Kimi makes chase. He’s old news now. Everyone else is preoccupied with their own lives, the lives of their friends and families, and so long as they aren’t in danger they’ve got no reason to pay attention to what’s happening right above their heads. It wouldn’t change Kimi’s pursuit either way - nothing will come between him and Ollie’s safety - and he refuses to let the Hornet fly out of his sight as he weaves back and forth, back and forth, trying desperately to lose Kimi.

 

It doesn’t work. Kimi’s still hot on his tail when the Hornet comes to a stop on the roof of the Fairmont hotel, alongside the vents and ducts. He lands just a moment later, ready to fight, with the gun still in his hands in a desperate attempt to look intimidating.

 

The Hornet looks about ready to make another clever quip, a witty one liner, but Kimi doesn’t intend on giving him the opportunity to do so. He marches straight up to him and swings the gun, harshly bringing the butt down to hit the Hornet’s head. His grip on Ollie is vanquished immediately, and Ollie has the good sense to run and hide amongst the pipes whilst Kimi deals with the villain. He prepares to deliver a second blow, but the Hornet is ready this time and he counters it by reaching for Kimi’s arms to block him. So Kimi kicks, hooking the heel of his boot behind the Hornet’s knee and destabilising him. Maybe he’s playing dirty, but the Hornet isn’t exactly one to fight fair. 

 

With the Hornet still holding onto him, they topple over together, but unlike on the yacht Kimi is the one to find himself on top…

 

… Only for the briefest of moments. The Hornet uses the momentum from the fall to roll backwards and now Kimi’s the one with concrete against his back and the Hornet on top of him. He struggles beneath him, but the Hornet isn’t about to make the same mistake as he did on the yacht. He lowers himself more quickly on top of Kimi, pincers attacking his mask this time. Kimi’s not sure if he cries out in fear or not, but he’s petrified as he feels the sharp metal scraping along his cheek and jawline. It opens up a perfect window to pale flesh, and - finally - his suit has had enough. 

 

There’s a loud noise, an ear piercing beep that warns him of the fault. His remaining vision is interrupted with warning signs, the world turning red as the suit tells him there’s been a ‘CATASTROPHIC FAILURE’. That diffuses any confidence he has in the situation.

 

He has to look around the flashing text before him, falling back on his instincts to fend himself, and as the Hornet moves for a second sweep he tilts his head and uses what space he has to headbutt the Hornet. It’s not enough to force the villain off him, but it throws him just enough that his strength alone is now enough to push him away. Kimi licks his exposed lips and tastes iron as he stumbles to his feet, but he refuses to think about that whilst he runs to build a gap and buy himself time to think.

 

The Hornet is hot on his heels, and Kimi spins to face him. He shoots out his web to the ledge, but instead of using it to move himself he darts to the right and ducks. It all happens so quickly that there’s no time for the Hornet to alter his course, and he runs directly into the web. It trips him up, sends him falling to the ground, and only then does Kimi pull himself along the web. His boots collide with the Hornet’s head, and he hears a sickening crack as the steel capped shoes hit.

 

He’s not moving, and this feels like Kimi’s best chance to escape. He runs back towards the vents and searches the shadows for his friend. 

 

“Ollie?” He calls, struggling to see around the flashing warning signs to make out where he could be. “Ollie, come out, it’s safe!”

 

Kimi notices movement and darts towards it - just about able to recognise the silhouette of Ollie’s curly hair. He wastes no time at all, grabbing him by the arm and holding him tightly as he runs to the edge of the building and swings them both away. He moves more slowly than usual, accommodating his limited vision and trying not to frighten his friend. He swings them both back towards the apartment block that he knows Ollie lives in, looking over his shoulder a few times and only stopping when he’s confident that the Hornet isn’t following them.

 

They’re both silent for the duration of the journey, but eventually Kimi lands in some gardens just outside the apartments. It’s close enough to the port that the flowers do little to mask the thick smell of burning in the air, and a lot of emergency crews are still working to restore order even though the danger seems to have passed. The busyness gives them more privacy, though. People have no reason to look at them, and the Silver Spider standing out in the open isn’t reason enough to garner their attention right now.

 

“Are you okay?” Kimi asks Ollie softly, eyes moving over him nervously.

 

The only blood on him is his, handprints on his shirt from where his bleeding palms have been holding him tightly as they’ve swung through the city together. As much as he wants to come back and console Ollie as soon as he’s gone back to his hotel room and changed he knows he needs to see Sergi. He’s not going to see his trainer just yet, though. Ollie is still his priority right now.

 

“I’m fine,” Ollie confirms, arms wrapped around himself as he blinks and processes everything that’s just happened. “Shaken up but… I’m not hurt.”

 

“I’m not surprised, eh? You’ve been through a lot mate,” he says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you sooner, I didn’t know what to–”

 

“What?!” Ollie laughs in disbelief. “You saved my life, why are you apologising?” 

 

Ollie’s laugh is a sweet, lilting sound that makes Kimi’s heart flutter and he’s desperately glad to hear it. It does something to soothe his soul and plaster over his wounds. It might not physically heal him, but mentally it’s a miracle cure. 

 

“I should never let him get close to you,” Kimi explains. “I should have stopped him at the Palace. He should never have been able to take you so far. I promise, you’re safe now.”

 

Ollie’s expression, moments ago, was one of fear. Now he smiles softly, adoration in his eyes.

 

“You sound like my own personal bodyguard,” he whispers. 

 

“Maybe I am,” Kimi smiles, the smile showing through the damage to his mask. 

 

Ollie doesn’t know it’s him, and Ollie can’t know it’s him, but he wants to tell him desperately. Not for any kind of recognition, or thanks, or worship, because he needs Ollie to know just how important he is to him. He needs Ollie to understand how he’d go to the end of the world to keep him safe if that’s what it takes. But telling him will make him more of a target than he already is.

 

Ollie, along with his family, is his greatest weakness. Perhaps a weakness that Sebastian will be able to exploit if he isn’t dead.

 

Holy shit, has he just killed a four time World Champion?!

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

“Eh?”

 

“I said, are you okay… Spider?” Ollie asks softly. “You’re bleeding a lot. Your suit is all torn up. Are you okay?”

 

Kimi nods his head. If he looks like he’s not okay then that’s not going to do much for his intimidating image. If he looks anything short of powerful and in control, then that’s just something else that can be taken advantage of. 

 

“Here,” Ollie whispers, hands reaching for Kimi’s mask.

 

He finds, strangely, that he doesn’t make any move to stop him as his fingers move beneath the damaged protective gear and tug it up. He trusts Ollie, even if Ollie doesn’t know who he is, and he’s right to trust him because Ollie doesn’t tug the mask above his nose. It settles just above his top lip, and unless his friend can identify him by only his lips - which he’s not currently confident is the case - then this is perfectly fine. Totally fine! Super normal! Which is why Kimi has absolutely no reaction whatsoever as Ollie runs a thumb over his bottom lip, frowning deeply.

 

“That might need stitches,” he says softly. 

 

A lot of him is going to need stitches, but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. There’s a lump in his throat as Ollie’s fingers move to his jawline. It’s sensitive, probably bruised from a punch or a fall. Ollie’s touch is feather light though, caring and loving and Kimi can’t help but lean in a little bit. Maybe he’s crazy, but he’s sure that Ollie leans in too.

 

“You’re not scared anymore?” Kimi asks, licking his lips and gazing at Ollie’s.

 

He wants to take this stupid mask off, he wants to be able to see properly - past this stupid popup. He’s going to have to get Toto to rework the display in the next version of the suit. Because there’s going to have to be a next version given the damage this one has sustained.

 

“Oh, I’m terrified,” Ollie laughs softly. “But there’s one spider I’m not scared of.”

 

Ollie’s smiling, leaning down a bit. Is this happening? Is this really happening? The fingers on his cheek dance along his face and under his chin, tilting his head up ever so slightly.

 

Yep. Happening.

 

“Which one?” He whispers, afraid that speaking any louder will pop the secluded bubble they’ve found themselves in and the moment will shatter.

 

“I’ll show you,” Ollie replies, somehow even quieter. Kimi’s not sure he’d have heard the words without the enhancements his suit provides, but he’d definitely still have noticed what happens next.

 

Ollie closes the gap between them quickly - though there’s only about an inch to cover - and their lips touch. Heat radiates through Kimi’s body faster than any tingling sensation ever has, filling him with warmth from head to toe. He feels a spark in his stomach, but it’s not the intense fireworks he’d always assumed his first kiss would give him. Instead it’s like a campfire, reassuring and grounding, warm and safe. Not something that is beautiful at first but over all too soon, something that can be stoked and kept alight as long as there’s fuel to burn. It’s soft initially, neither of them really all that sure what to do, and Kimi is more than happy to let Ollie set the pace and take the lead. The kiss becomes firmer, more confident, and Kimi raises his hands to Ollie’s face. He cups his cheeks, thumbs running back and forth softly as their kiss breaks apart and resumes and breaks apart and resumes again. Their lips move in perfect synchronicity, their mouths open a little as they become more daring and their tongues poke and prod curiously. 

 

Kimi’s stomach tightens into a knot at just how wonderful it is to kiss Ollie, and his heart threatens to burst out of his chest and through the protective layers of his suit. This is utter perfection. This is heaven. If he died right now, he’d die happy.

 

Eventually, Ollie pulls away from him. Kimi wants to chase the kiss but he can’t - or at least he shouldn’t. The adrenaline is wearing off and the endorphins of a kiss that wonderful will only keep him going for so long. In a few minutes he’s going to crash, and he needs to make it back to his hotel before the evening’s events catch up to him. 

 

“Stay safe,” Kimi tells him softly.

 

He removes his hands from his cheeks, turning them over to use the cleaner side of them to try and wipe away some of the blood he’s left behind before he pulls his mask back down to cover his chin and neck. Even if it’s broken, it’s still better than nothing.

 

“Stay in your apartment. Call your trainer, or your teammate, or someone. Don’t be alone tonight, please.”

 

Ollie nods his head, taking a step back. He looks bashful, bordering on shameful. Was… Was the kiss not good for him too? Is Kimi a terrible kisser? Maybe he just tasted a little bit too much of blood and seawater and sweat. He’ll remedy that before their date in Spain.

 

“Thank you for saving me,” he says again, offering a little wave. 

 

“Any time,” Kimi replies easily, and he means it.

 

As he swings away, he takes a roundabout route back to his hotel. It would be easy to cross the street and head straight up to the balcony and let himself in that way, but he’s fairly certain Ollie knows which room is his - they’d waved at each other from their balconies when he’d checked in - and that would be a terrible way for his disguise to be undone. Not that he’s been overly careful over the course of the evening - calling Ollie by his name, taking him back to his apartment without needing to ask where his apartment is, kissing him. 

 

When he makes it back to his hotel room - landing on the balcony and stumbling inside his room - he isn’t alone. For the briefest of moments he’s on edge and ready to fight again, but his guard quickly comes crumbling down when his mind catches up with his eyes and he sees who’s standing in front of him.

 

Sergi sighs as Kimi pulls his mask off, his eyes moving over Kimi’s body and cataloguing every cut he can see. He’d apologise for the long night of work he’s caused his trainer, but he’s fairly sure Sergi’s been expecting it since the Swarm first appeared.

 

“You owe me, mate,” Sergi tells him as Kimi steps out of his boots.

 

“Owe you?”

 

“Covering for you in the GPDA chat,” he explains, going to help Kimi out of his suit.

 

Without the need to fight for his life anymore, he feels every hit he’s taken over the past few hours. His stomach aches awfully when he bends over, his head is pounding, his arms feel like they’re on fire and he’d be perfectly happy to amputate his hands right now. It might be a problem in the morning, but it feels like the solution he needs right now. He goes to sit on the bed, but Sergi prevents him from doing so and marches him into the bathroom where a hot bath is already waiting for him.

 

Oh, he owes him for more than just the GPDA chat. 

 

Kimi sinks into the bath with a moan, closing his eyes as he slips chin deep in the water, and Sergi sits dutifully beside him with a pair of tweezers as he removes glass and metal from his bleeding hands. He winces and complains with every stinging sensation that comes, but Sergi’s work is methodical and quick and before long tweezers are replaced with antiseptic wipes, which are replaced with soft bandages. His trainer seems to agree with Ollie’s earlier assessment regarding the wound on his face, and once that’s been cleaned and disinfected thoroughly he has to brace (digging his nails into his arms, trying not to get his bandages wet) as Sergi stitches it shut. Once the worst of his wounds have been tended to, Sergi steps out of the bathroom to give him a few moments of privacy. 

 

He knows he should wash his hair, but Kimi can’t bring himself to put his head under the water right now. 

 

When he’s ready to climb out of the bath, Sergi is there with a soft, warm towel. This time he’s allowed to perch on the end of the bed without any protest from his trainer. He reaches out to touch the charms left by the side of the bed, shivering at the cool metal against his fingertips. He only managed to touch them briefly before he left to fight the Hornet, and he’s not sure he’s ever come so close to death before. If he hadn’t thought to make that contact, he might not be here right now…

 

His phone distracts him as Sergi orders room service, the GPDA group chat currently having two simultaneous conversations. One, led by Ollie, detailing his ordeal being kidnapped by the Hornet and rescued by the Silver Spider. The other, led by his new second in command Charles, talking about the noticeable lack of contact from Esteban. Reportedly he left the principality earlier in the afternoon to make a flight from Nice to Barcelona. 

 

It’s convenient for the conspiracy theorists among them, and it means Kimi doesn’t have to waste his energy texting back to keep up appearances. 

 

The next thing he knows, Sergi is trading his phone for a bowl full of pasta, and Kimi looks up at him with a smile.

 

“Grazie, Sergi,” he says softly - the words about more than just the pasta.

 

His shoulder is squeezed. Sergi has never needed thanks for keeping him safe.

 

“I’ve let Toto know your things need replacing,” he explains. “I’ve told him you’re under my care tonight, he doesn’t have to worry about you.”

 

Kimi nods, and his phone buzzes in Sergi’s hand. Rather than ask for it back, Kimi twirls his fork in the pasta he’s been given and trusts his trainer to tell him what it says. The communication between them is silent and effortless as Sergi takes a look at the screen. 

 

“It’s Ollie,” he says. “Inviting you over.”

 

Kimi swallows, but he shakes his head. 

 

“I can’t go. Tell him I hope he’s okay, I’m sorry about what happened, he’ll have to tell me in Spain,” he offers. 

 

As Sergi composes a text in response, Kimi feels something uncomfortable pool in his stomach. It breaks his heart to decline when he wants to be there with Ollie, but he can’t be. It would tell him too much. He knows Ollie has plenty of friends: Carlos, or Charles, or Gabriel, and Dino’s here for F2 as well. There’s people he can rely on to help him in a time like this. Whilst Kimi is glad that he apparently tops that list, he knows he has to remove himself from it. As much as it pains him to have to demonstrate to Ollie that he’s not someone that can be relied upon, it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make to keep Ollie safe.

 

Even if it means that things don’t work out between them in the long run, Ollie will always be safe and sound under his guard. And that matters more than anything.

Notes:

I remember when this was going to be a 10k oneshot... Now we've got 17k chapters... I hope you enjoyed this one, it was SUCH good fun to write! But that's not it, the incredible astralcorpse-png on tumblr made this chapter even better than it ever could've been alone with some STUNNING comic style art! Please go and give them some love for this!!

(art by astralcorpse-png)

As always, I love hearing what you guys think about this fic. Every comment you leave fills me with so much joy, and you don't want a grumpy writer - do you? Just imagine what that major character death tag could become if I was grumpy ;-)

Chapter 6: Issue 6: What's the Buzz?

Barcelona, Spain
Sunday 02 June 2025

 

Kimi’s whole weekend has been one of pain, but his job as a driver is to ignore everything outside his race. As he sits in his car, staring up at the lights, he forgets the fact that he’s still got a cough lingering from last weekend. He forgets about his almost healed lip, about the scabs on his hands that he’s been relentlessly picking to try and hide how anxious he’s been. All that matters, right now, is the five lights in front of him and the nineteen other cars on the grid.

 

Ahead of him, the two bright orange cars of Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris. Oscar is on pole, Lando second, and Kimi qualified within a tenth of them both to line up third. The Technical Directive has made only the most marginal of differences - the McLarens are still ahead, but the gap to them feels less insurmountable than before. He’s confident about his chances into Turn 1. George’s slipstream move from last year will be hard to pull off again, they’ll both be expecting him, but maybe if he’s lucky they’ll be so preoccupied with each other that they’ll just forget to defend behind. Maybe he can pip at least one of them. Maybe a good strategy and tyre management will be enough to take him to first. It’s expected to be a two stop race for most of the field, but he and Bono have agreed with the team to go for a three stop. Tyre management is still a skill he’s developing, so if they plan for a three stop then he can think less about his tyres and more about making overtakes, building a gap, and driving as aggressively as he wants. If all goes according to plan, he’ll recover the pit stop loss.

 

Kimi exhales as the lights illuminate red on the gantry above him. He’s got this. He’s prepared for this. Everything else melted from his mind the moment he pulled away for his formation lap. He knows the Hornet can’t hurt him when he’s racing, so there’s no reason for his mind to wander for the next ninety minutes.

 

Five lights.

 

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move a muscle until the lights go out and he accelerates away off the line. 

 

Oscar and Lando got brilliant starts and pull away from him quickly - which is the exact opposite of what he was hoping for. His own launch is… Well, it’s okay. Too much wheelspin. As he barrels down to Turn 1 he’s having to defend from Charles behind him, gritting his teeth in his helmet as the g-forces push his body to the side whilst he turns his steering wheel.

 

Ahead, Kimi sees sparks. Flashes of orange. A wall of dust. He doesn’t take his foot off the accelerator as he moves through the cloud. 

 

He wonders a moment later, if he did, would it have changed anything?

 

“Shit!” Kimi shouts, finger navigating to find the radio button. “I have a puncture!”

 

The two McLarens are behind him, stranded in the gravel, and there’s debris all over the track that the rest of the field are trying to drive around. Kimi pulls to one side - still driving, but not taking any chances - seventeen cars overtake him with ease. It’s an awful feeling, his heart sinking like a stone as he watches even the Saubers and the Alpines drive off into the distance. There is, obviously, a safety car deployed.

 

It’s a small mercy, but it means when he emerges from the pits he isn’t already a lap down. 

 

“Alright, lad, reset,” Bono encourages him over the radio. “It’s a long race, we’re still in this. We’re still going for Plan A, so push like Hell.”

 

Being involved in a first lap incident is always frustrating, but Kimi’s listening to Bono’s words and letting a sense of calm wash over him. He can do this. Overtaking is fun. He knows the track, he’s raced it many times in his junior career, he’s confident in how the car feels beneath him. He takes some time to breathe, to sip on some water, to prepare for the restart physically and mentally. It takes a couple of laps for the cars to be cleared away and the track to be swept, but soon enough Bono is over the radio confirming that the safety car will be coming in at the end of the lap.

 

As Charles starts to back up the pack, Kimi pokes his tongue out between his lips. He won’t have DRS this first go around, but he’s in a Mercedes. Surely he’ll still be able to make a few overtakes this lap! If he crosses the line next time around and he’s still in eighteenth, he’ll be sorely disappointed.

 

The track goes green, Charles accelerates away in front, and before the first corner Kimi’s already made a move on Gabriel. By the end of the first sector, he’s dispatched of Pierre as well. By the end of the lap, Liam and Lance join the group in his rear view mirrors.

 

The praise he gets from Bono spurs him onwards. A new set of mediums gives him more grip than those around him on hards trying to make a two stop work and attempting to get deep into the race before they first have to stop. Three more laps and Kimi’s already on the fringes of the points. By the time he’s ready to come in for his first scheduled stop, he’s in sixth and there’s a nice gap for him to pit into behind the pair of Haas drivers. They were easy enough the first time around, they’ll be even easier when he’s on fresh tyres and they’re nursing 25 lap old ones.

 

This time, he makes it up to fourth. He’s making his way into sector three when he hears the call.

 

“Box this lap, Sainz and Hulkenberg have come together. It’s going to be another safety car.”

 

So Kimi does box, the safety car coming out as he darts in. Everyone takes advantage of the opportunity for a cheap stop. Kimi might not make up any positions, but he doesn’t lose any either. 

 

“How do you feel about Plan B?” Bono asks Kimi as he trundles around behind the safety car for the sixth lap in a row.

 

He looks down at his dash, his tyre temperatures, how many laps he still has to go… When he makes it to the back straight, he presses the radio button.

 

“I can make it work,” he promises. 

 

So, Plan B it is. He probably won’t win the race, but Max Verstappen is in his sights and he’s got fifteen laps to make it work.

 

In the end, he only needs seven.

 

George and Charles are ten seconds ahead, fighting each other tooth and nail. Normally fighting slows cars ahead down, but the two men are so determined to beat each other that they’re just going faster and faster and faster. Kimi can’t see them on the track, but he can see them on the screens as he passes by. 

 

He’s surprised that they make it across the finish line in one piece. George first, seven tenths of a second ahead of Charles, and twelve seconds ahead of Kimi - who himself is three ahead of Max. 

 

Third place is exactly where he started, but it’s been a recovery drive and a half after his early puncture, and to know he’s made it onto the podium is almost more satisfying than an easy win. 

 

Oh, who is he kidding?! He’s a racing driver! A podium is nowhere near as satisfying as a win! At least he won the Driver of the Day vote. Maybe, this time, it’s not just because Toto thinks he and Bono are the best looking driver and engineer pairing on the grid. 

 

He pulls into Parc Ferme at the end of the lap, making his way out of the car with a sigh of relief. A sigh that makes him cough, his body reminding him that he’s supposed to be in bed recovering from a near-death experience rather than hurtling round a race track at hundreds of miles an hour. There’s too many people looking at him to allow the cough to go on for too long, even if he can hear a distinct wetness in his lungs that he really should listen to. As he clears his throat and manages to put his mask back on he feels a hand on his back and another reaching for his. When he blinks, he sees that it’s George. 

 

His teammate, who just won his first Grand Prix of the season, coming to check on him rather than go straight to the team to celebrate. 

 

Kimi shakes his hand firmly and pats him right back, giving him a thumbs up as a congratulations. As he goes off to hug his mechanics, Kimi pulls off his helmet and balaclava and goes to weigh himself. He’s got a podium to celebrate too, and whilst that doesn’t mean crowd surfing like George does, he goes to the fence to receive his “well done”’s from the team. His body is aching, and he’s relieved that he can blame the end of his second triple header for the more subdued response to such a good result after such a difficult race. 

 

After the embraces from his team, he reaches his family, and Kimi smiles at them softly. It’s nice to have his parents and sister with him again, and this week it felt a little bit safer to have them around too. He might’ve been without his suit after the fight in Monaco, but after a few social media posts from Sebastian confirmed he was still alive he knew that the Hornet was in the same boat. 

 

“Andy!” Maggie cheers for him as he leans over the fence to kiss the top of her head. “Bombo knew you’d get a podium!” 

 

He looks down to the damned cat toy, still in her arms, and he can’t help the way his brows knit together in anger. It’s an inanimate object, his hatred of it is through no fault of its own, but he can’t help that he feels it.

 

“Will you take her with you to get your trophy?”

 

His anger, though, is directed at the toy. Even that is misplaced anger that should be directed at Sebastian. What he knows for sure, however, is that he loves his sister… And if Maggie wants Bombo to go to the podium with him, then he supposes Bombo will go to the podium with him. 

 

David Coulthard is conducting the post-race interviews, and he seems particularly charmed by his fulfillment of his brotherly duties. The media does, too. Maybe if it was any other cuddly toy they wouldn’t receive the same reception, but Bombo is held in the same esteem as Leo Leclerc, and that means she can go onto the podium if Maggie deems it so.

 

The cooldown room is fairly relaxed. Kimi sips on his water and tries to rid himself of the tickle in his throat. George and Charles are laughing about their battle that took them to the end of the race after the second safety car. He’s glad to be invisible, glad to be able to sink into the sofa and let his exhausted body rest if only for a few moments. It isn’t long at all before he’s putting the third place hat on his head and walking out onto the podium, placing Bombo down by his feet as the British and German anthems ring out around them.

 

There’s a nice breeze running through Kimi’s hair, and it brings him down from the adrenaline fuelled state he was in a few minutes ago. His breathing is returning to normal, the various ways his body feels broken is returning to him, he’s feeling more like himself. With his hat back on his head, he smiles as he accepts his trophy and places it beside Bombo for safe keeping.

 

When the music starts to play he darts to one side, moving both the trophy and Bombo off the podium to protect them from the champagne being sprayed, and he runs back to his pedestal as quickly as he left to grab his bottle and join in on the celebrations. He sprays George more than Charles - both because George is the winner and because he knows George marginally more than he knows Charles. He’s having fun. Even if he hasn’t won the race, he’s finally starting to be proud of himself for his drive and his performance.

 

And then George turns on him, thumb over his champagne bottle, squirting the bubbly liquid directly into his face.

 

Kimi’s eyes snap shut reflexively, and suddenly the whole world falls apart.

 

Alarm bells ring in his mind as his heart begins to pound in his chest. He can’t breathe, both because his mouth and nose are covered in champagne and because there’s a lump in his throat that makes it entirely impossible to inhale. His lungs feel tight, like they’re going to implode in his chest, or maybe that’s his heart about to explode. A sense of complete and utter helplessness surges through him and leaves him feeling like he’s about to collapse right there and then. 

 

There’s an arm around him, pulling him up onto the podium, keeping him standing tall even when he feels entirely unable to do so. Flashes of light feel like the searchlights of helicopters looking for him in vain in a dark, endless ocean. He wants to kick his legs and drive himself towards the surface, but he can’t. Oxygen flows through his nostrils and fills his lungs with air, but his panic is so all encompassing that the breaths are too quick and too shallow to make a difference. 

 

He’s shaking as he’s pulled from the podium, guided back into the cooldown room, and he sobs as he feels something cool against his back. 

 

Kimi doesn’t know how he got there, but he’s sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. His head is between his knees and there’s a hand on his shoulder. He sobs again, the noise pathetic and echoing in his mind. 

 

“It’s okay,” a voice cuts through. “You’re okay, Kimi. Just breathe.”

‘Just breathe’ is easier said than done when his body feels as though it’s been thrown into the Monaco harbour all over again. He feels like his leg is caught in wreckage, like no amount of paddling will ever set him free. He’s going to die down here, deprived of oxygen, alone and cold. Some hero he is, he can’t even save himself. 

 

“Kimi, can you hear me?”

 

It’s not just a voice this time, it’s George’s voice. Which is strange, because George was nowhere near the harbour last weekend. 

 

“What’s going on?” 

 

“He’s having a panic attack, I think. I sprayed him with champagne and I saw his eyes just gloss over. I had his entire weight during the photo, I think he would’ve collapsed if I didn’t.”

 

“Can I do anything? Should I call someone?”

 

“No, just leave. Everyone leave.”

 

He doesn’t know who else is speaking. It would make sense if it was Charles, given he was the other driver on the podium, but he can’t identify the voice to know for sure if that’s the case. There’s footsteps, though. Blurry shadows move around the room and leave as George instructed. 

 

Kimi blinks. He’s gradually coming back to himself, gradually starting to breathe like normal, gradually starting to perceive his surroundings. He’s just about able to watch as the FIA representatives step out of the room - lingering by the doorway just to be safe. In the cooldown room proper it’s just himself and George. The silence is comforting. George has a hand on his back, circling gently to offer something physical to ground himself with. It helps. It’s a minute gesture, George might think it’s entirely inconsequential, but the world slowly drifts back into focus because of it.

 

“Fuck,” he exhales after an eternity.

 

“Back with me?” George asks him softly. 

 

Kimi nods.

 

“What happened?”

 

Obviously, Kimi can’t tell him the truth. He can’t tell him that a week ago he almost died, drowning in Port Hercule, because Sergi covered for him. He can’t tell him that he’s secretly a superhero (who’s not even capable of making it through a podium ceremony), because that’s just going to put him in danger. All he can do is lie. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Just tired.”

 

“Don’t apologise,” George tells him, pulling back and squeezing his shoulder. “Racing’s tough. Triple headers are a nightmare. You’ve had two in quick succession, you’re a rookie, you’ve won your home race… Of course you’re tired. We’ve got time to rest before Canada.”

 

Kimi nods, not daring to look up and make eye contact with George. He hates having to lie. It’s something he’s getting much better at, but it’s something he’d rather he didn’t have to do in the first place. George is here, helping him, being kind and supportive and Kimi… He repays him with lies? It’s not right. He feels like a terrible person, but he’s too drained from the panic attack to care.

 

He has to get that under control, he’s got to find a way to push things like that down and keep going. George isn’t always going to be there to pick him up. What is he supposed to do if the Hornet takes him out to sea again? What happens if he lands in a swimming pool again? 

 

“Come on, can you stand?”

 

Kimi nods, even if he’s not confident in that. He’s never had a panic attack before, he doesn’t know how his body responds to them. But he does manage to push himself up off the floor, taking Bombo with him and staring at his trophy with a sigh. 

 

All this over third place. 

 

George grabs the trophy for him and smiles. 

 

“I’ve got this,” he says. “Don’t worry about anything. Go back to your room, get ready for the press conference. I’ll cover for you with Toto, see if we can push the debrief to tomorrow.”

 

“I can do the debrief,” he promises. 

 

He doesn’t want to appear weak in front of George, though it’s clear on his face that his teammate is considering whether or not to protest that. In the end, he doesn’t, and George just nods. He’s able to carry himself back to his driver room without too much scrutiny - Sergi meeting him halfway to keep him from being pounced upon by the lions den of photographers and journalists waiting for him. He’s not asked any questions during their walk, which has him hoping that maybe his panic attack wasn’t all that noticeable to those watching on. Maybe George only knew because he was so close. Maybe he’s gotten away with this.

 

Kimi knows that won’t always be the case. He has to fix this.

 

Not right now, though. He stands with his back to the shower head as he washes himself quickly and changes into his team kit, taking Bombo with him as he walks to the press conference so he can hand her back to Maggie. Before he can enter the media circus, he’s stopped by Toto. Part of him dreads what’s coming next. He doesn’t know what George has told him, and as much as Toto is like family to him he’s still an eighteen year old boy. He has a lot to prove. To think that his boss might know that he’s just had a panic attack… It’s embarrassing, frankly.

 

Except Toto doesn’t mention it. Whether or not he knows is a different story, but Kimi gets to live in a world where he doesn’t.

 

“Come to the factory tomorrow night,” he says quietly enough that the microphones won’t pick him up - even if they’re hot. “Come alone.”

 

+ + +

 

Barcelona, Spain
Monday 02 June 2025

 

A late night text to Ollie, shifting their date from dinner to lunch, was met with a strange degree of ambivalence. He put that down to exhaustion after a triple header and thought nothing of it, collapsing into his own bed to try and catch up on some sleep of his own. But now, sitting opposite Ollie in a little tapas and wine bar in the centre of the city, it’s much more pronounced. 

 

The establishment is atmospheric. It’s small and intimate, with few tables and low lighting. The hustle and bustle of the busy Barcelona streets are drowned out by soft jazz music playing over the speakers. Even with all that, the array of food they’ve ordered to pick and share, and a bottle of white wine between them, the date just feels awkward. It’s really the worst possible outcome. Ollie’s eyes are much more focused on the various plates of potatoes, cheeses, and meats than anything else. He’s playing with a toothpick, fiddling with his watch, looking at his phone, doing anything to avoid looking at Kimi. 

 

It’s difficult for Kimi to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. He’s been looking forward to this date for over two weeks, and in that time he’s got no idea what’s changed between them. Just a week ago they were inches from each, hands wandering and lips close to touching in that dark night club. Everything felt good then - great, even! But now Ollie is distant, despite Kimi’s attempts to flirt, to chat, to reach out and take his hand and intertwine their fingers together. 

 

He tries to think of what else could be on Ollie’s mind. His race yesterday went well, he finished eighth and after scoring points in every race during the triple header he’s gotten enough points to take him to a comfortable tenth in the Championship. He’s four points ahead of his teammate, and just one point shy of Alex in ninth. So it’s not racing. To his knowledge he’s not coping with any family issues, any bereavements, there’s nothing happening in England that could be troubling him. So Kimi’s stumped, at a complete loss for what could be going on.

 

If they’re going to date, this isn’t what he wants dating to be like. He wants it to be like before, when they were friends, except he wants to kiss him too. And, maybe, if he’s lucky, he wants to do more than just kiss him. 

 

Ollie, though, seems entirely disinterested.

 

A glance at his friend confirms that just playing with a toothpick has gotten tedious, and now he’s stabbing olives with said toothpick. Kimi knows he needs to stop beating around the bush and just ask him what’s wrong, but before he gets the chance to say anything Ollie is opening his mouth. Kimi shuts up, maybe he’ll get the answer organically.

 

“I prefer them with mozzarella,” he says softly.

 

It’s meaningless. Words to fill the awkward silence that just make the silence more awkward. Kimi sighs.

 

“You do?” He tries to raise his voice a little, encouraging him to continue.

 

“Yeah.”

 

If Kimi thought that it was going somewhere, that it was going to be a strange metaphor for how he was feeling, he’s sorely mistaken. He wants to smack his head on the table and scream. He’s in public, so he can’t do that. It would attract the exact kind of attention they’re trying to avoid by being here at best, and at worst it’ll get them kicked out of the restaurant. He can’t imagine this date becoming more unromantic, but that would probably be the way to do it. So instead he returns to his initial plan - ask questions. 

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks bluntly.

 

“What do you–” 

 

“Don’t pretend nothing is wrong,” he exclaims softly.

 

He leans over, snatching the plate of olives away from him to force him to pay attention. It backfires when Ollie ends up looking like a kicked puppy. 

 

“You’re miserable,” he huffs, pretending he doesn’t feel guilty about the expression on his face. “You won’t look at me. You’re barely speaking. What kind of a date is this meant to be?”

 

It’s Ollie’s turn to look guilty now. Kimi tries to shift closer to concern than frustration, because if something is wrong enough that it’s making Ollie so clearly upset then he wants to help. Even if it means the date is forgotten and they just remain friends, he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever he can get, so long as Ollie smiles again. But there’s no smile on Ollie’s face when he starts to talk.

 

“Something happened,” he says softly, resorting to poking the beef tongue now his olives have been confiscated. “In Monaco.”

 

Kimi’s eyes widen, and then he quickly gets his face back under control. He knows more about Monaco than Ollie thinks he does, but he can’t let that show. The stakes are too high.

 

“What happened?” He asks. “If it’s about what the Hornet did, I saw everything.”

 

Ollie visibly straightens, but he shakes his head. It leaves Kimi curious - did something else happen that he doesn’t know about?

 

“It wasn’t the Hornet,” Ollie confesses quietly. “It was the Silver Spider. He came to rescue me.”

 

“What’s wrong with that?”

 

Kimi’s mentally going over everything he did whilst rescuing Ollie, terrified that he might’ve done something to upset him. Maybe watching him fight the Hornet was a bit much? Maybe the ordeal as a whole terrified him? He certainly can’t pretend he walked away from Monaco without a few invisible scars of his own. Visible ones too. He slides his hands under the table, suddenly very conscious of the still healing wounds on both of his hands and the cut on his lip that’s more or less fixed. 

 

“Nothing’s wrong, I mean,” Ollie pauses and takes a breath. “It’s just… It’s what happened after. It’s what I did. Kimi, I really like you. I’ve liked you for a while. Since Formula 2, at least. I’ve thought about holding your hand and kissing you and loving you for months,” he reveals.

 

Kimi wants to gasp, but he keeps quiet as Ollie continues.

 

“I’ve been so excited for our date, but in Monaco I… I kissed him. After he saved me. I kissed him and it was wonderful, and brilliant, and I can’t stop thinking about it. But I feel awful, I feel like I don’t deserve to go on a date with you anymore.”

 

Kimi’s expression softens with the confession, and he reaches across the table tentatively. His fingers force the toothpick from his, and he practically forces Ollie to hold his hand. When he looks up he can see his face is burdened with shame, and Kimi feels awful. This has clearly been plaguing Ollie since it happened, and he can’t even tell him the truth to take that away from him.

 

“I’m really sorry,” Ollie whispers sadly, eyes appearing dangerously wet in the dull candlelight.

 

“Please don’t say sorry,” Kimi says hurriedly.

 

Telling Ollie the truth is a line that Kimi simply can’t cross, but he desperately wants to put his mind at ease. He wants to tell him that despite being the first kiss he’s ever had it’s also the best kiss he’s ever had. He wants to tell him that he hasn’t stopped thinking about it either, that he’s been desperate for their date so he can have a second first kiss. 

 

He gets the feeling that isn’t going to happen, even if he manages to reassure him.

 

“But I asked you on a date, I told you I liked you, and then I went and kissed someone else! What if we’d gone on a date after Imola instead of waiting?”

 

“Then things would’ve been different, eh? We wouldn’t have gone to the club, we’d have gone back to your apartment and had a nice dinner and not been in any danger. You wouldn’t have needed rescuing, and you wouldn’t have kissed the man that saved your life,” he explains. “I don’t care that you kissed him, Ollie. I promise. I mean, I’m jealous, eh? Someone else kissed you before me.”

 

Kimi moves his fingers over Ollie’s hand, tracing circles over his knuckles to try and make him smile. 

 

“It was a heat of the moment thing. It’s not like you’re looking for him, hm?”

 

Ollie swallows, but he shakes his head.

 

“I just feel so awful,” he whispers, and Kimi sighs.

 

“Amore, I just told you I don’t care. I don’t want you to apologise. You told me, it’s not a secret, we both know and now… Now it’s okay. It’s over. In the past. Ciao!”

 

Ollie takes a moment to consider his words, and Kimi studies his face intently. Eventually, he nods, and relief floods him.

 

“Does this mean that I can tell you the funny side of it?” He whispers, and Kimi tilts his head curiously.

 

“Funny?”

 

“I told Esteban,” he explains. “That I’d kissed the Silver Spider. And he immediately demanded to swab my mouth and send it to one of those websites where you find out where you’re from. He wanted to see if we could track him down that way. I swear, he’s using it as a way to distract me and make me think he isn’t the Silver Spider! I know he is, I’m onto him, I just need proof and he’s panicking and trying to deflect.”

 

Kimi laughs, for three reasons. Firstly, because it’s objectively funny that he told his teammate about the kiss. Secondly, because he’s nervous and slightly terrified that it might actually have provided some useful information. And, thirdly, because Ollie has just confessed to kissing the Silver Spider in the same breath as accusing his teammate of being the Silver Spider.

 

It appears that the realisation of the final point comes to Ollie at around the same time too, because he’s gasping and reaching for the bottle of wine with a disgusted look on his face.

 

“Oh my God!” He exclaims. 

 

“Yeah,” Kimi giggles. 

 

“I did not!” Ollie declares, filling up his glass before starting to drink it quickly.

 

“Yeah,” Kimi asserts as he keeps laughing.

 

“Eugh!” Ollie winces. “Oh, God, this is worse than cheating on you!”

 

“We’re not dating yet, it’s not cheating,” Kimi says.

 

The yet is lost on Ollie, who’s doing his damnedest to shake the mental image of kissing his teammate. Kimi has never been happier for the conspiracy theory his friend holds so dear. Any awkwardness that might’ve been lingering from earlier is now well and truly gone. Thank you, Esteban Ocon. 

 

“Eugh,” Ollie repeats as he puts his wine glass down. “He’s trying so hard to convince me it’s not him. I mean, he started two new Instagram pages and our social team has no idea. The Spider Spotter and Hornet Watch,” he explains. 

 

Ollie’s fingers swipe across his phone to unlock it, and before Kimi knows it the device has been handed to him to scroll through. He starts to scroll, examining the profiles in question, whilst Ollie finishes his glass and pours another hefty one - as if he’d be able to rid himself of the taste of his teammate. Kimi chuckles to himself, if only to think less critically about the collection of digital media of himself that’s been archived on the account. There’s thousands of reposts, and he’s terrified that Esteban might actually be the one person in the world determined enough and capable enough to actually figure out who he is. That… He’s going to have to deal with that one way or another. 

 

“Oh, wow,” he says instead. “This is… Intense.”

 

Ollie takes his phone back and nods, swallowing his wine before he speaks again.

 

“It’s just nice to find a spider I’m not scared of,” he admits. “Even if I’ve basically just committed an act of incest. God, I can’t believe I kissed him! Eugh!”

 

It’s clear the date has morphed into a friendly hangout, and really Kimi is okay with that. Ollie is smiling and laughing again, he’s delving deeper into his theories about why Esteban might be the Silver Spider (and, in light of recent events, he’s also weighing up the odds of him being the Hornet instead). Kimi’s got a flight to catch to make it to the factory in time for his meeting with Toto, though, so he can’t stay forever. As much as he’d like to sit in some quiet restaurant, with good food and a great person, for the rest of eternity, he’s got too much to do. Eventually he pays the bill and calls an Uber, and the pair ride to the airport together. Their gates are, naturally, on totally different ends of the airport, so once they’ve made their way through security and duty free they have no choice but to bid each other farewell and go their separate ways.

 

There’ll be a chance for a date another day, when Ollie’s washed the theoretical taste of his teammate’s tongue from his mouth. For now, Kimi has a job to do. And that job is a long way from the heat of the Catalonian capital. 

 

+ + +

 

Brackley, England
Monday 02 June 2025

 

That job is, instead, in the muggy drizzle in an industrial estate tucked into the English countryside. Kimi’s taken a taxi from the airport straight to the factory, and despite it being well into the evening when he arrives it’s still light outside. The factory itself is quiet and Kimi makes his way inside with little question from the staff about why he’s there so late. Toto hadn’t given him much to go off with where they should meet, so he elects to go to his office. He can’t quite recall the complicated route through the factory they’d taken, and he’s not sure he’d be allowed all the way in unescorted. 

 

Toto’s office is empty, so Kimi puts his bag to one side and sits down in his boss’s chair, kicking his legs up onto his desk and setting his hands in his lap. It feels mischievous to sit here, like he’s doing something naughty by daring to sit in the chair without permission. It’s a comfortable chair, though. Maybe when he’s done with racing he’ll try and become a team principal. For the chair privileges above all else. 

 

He doesn’t arrive for a few minutes, and Kimi’s mind wanders to the other things he should be doing. Specifically, his school work. Kimi leans forwards, grabbing a pen and some post-it notes from the desk. He bites the lid off and keeps it between his teeth as he scribbles down a hurried list of the various assignments he needs to turn in before Austria - deliberately adding one he’s already done to the list for the sense of satisfaction that comes with being able to tick something off. He’s just about finished writing things down when the door opens.

 

Kimi sits upright, quickly moving his feet from the desk and straightening his posture. He’s been caught red handed - well, red inked - but Toto isn’t angry. He just laughs softly, shakes his head, and beckons Kimi to follow him.

 

They make their way through the corridors of the factory together, and Kimi catalogues the security measures as they go: Toto’s pass, a key code, a biometric scanner… 

 

Being in this part of the factory isn’t going to get old any time soon. Kimi stares with wide eyed wonder just like he did a month ago. Things have changed since he last stepped foot in the room, obviously. In one corner there’s a chemistry set up with beakers and a titration set up, but Kimi dropped chemistry so many years ago that he can’t figure out anything beyond that. The whiteboards have new ideas on them, equations and charts and ideas of what to include and what to avoid. Kimi’s personal wishlist has been written up, but there’s things he doesn’t recognise either. 

 

There’s one whiteboard that has nothing to do with him. There’s information on the Hornet, analysis of his suit, a dissection of the different equipment he’s brought with him to their fights. Maybe, if he’s lucky, they’ll figure out a way for him to totally undermine the Hornet and apprehend him once and for all.

 

“Wait here,” Toto tells Kimi, and Kimi comes to a stop where he’s standing. 

 

As Toto walks away, Kimi has a moment alone. And really, what kind of teenage boy would he be if he didn’t take advantage of that fact to take a closer look at everything around him? He won’t touch anything that can break! 

 

He wanders to the whiteboard with information on the Hornet and lets his eyes scan over it, wondering if the team working on this have managed to figure out anything he doesn’t know himself. The drawings of his suit are detailed, and the annotations about his pincers and the reinforced aspects of the villain seem perfectly accurate to him. There’s just… A few bits missing. Kimi looks over his shoulder to make sure that Toto isn’t back yet, and he takes the page of drawings down from the whiteboard to scribble on the missing details.

 

Kimi adds a pair of horns to the drawing, reasserts his request for a gun (even if it doesn’t appear like it would be all that helpful), and adds a few more notes about the ‘bees’. 

 

When he hears footsteps he jumps, using magnets to hang the paper back up and adding his singular post-it note to the whiteboard too. He puts the pen from Toto’s office into a stationery holder and quickly goes to stand back exactly where he was when Toto left him.

 

If he looks as sheepish as he feels, Toto is kind enough not to mention it. 

 

“I’ve got some upgrades for you,” he says instead.

 

Kimi is delighted to hear those words. He beams from ear to ear, letting Toto lead him to one of the side rooms in the factory as he continues speaking.

 

“Thank you for the forty five minute WhatsApp voice note.”

 

He lets out a breath of air in the realms of a silent chuckle, mostly because Toto doesn’t seem at all thankful for the forty five minute WhatsApp voice note.

 

“The team are working on some more pieces, but for now you have a new suit,” he reveals, opening up a door and gesturing for Kimi to step inside first.

 

Outwardly, the suit is similar to the one he returned to Toto in Monaco. There’s a few less puncture holes, a lot less explosion damage, and the mask has been restored to its former glory. But it’s a new suit, so he’s hoping that the team has done more than just restore it. As he approaches, he looks to Toto for an explanation.

 

“It’s tougher than before, without adding too much weight,” he explains. “And your mask has a filtration system. You’ll be able to breathe clearly in any situation. It will filter water, toxins, bacteria and viruses.”

 

Kimi reaches for the mask, his fingers running over it. The area around where his nose and mouth would be feels much stiffer than before, reinforced with whatever technology is required to make them work as intended. He certainly doesn’t want to be in a position like before, but he trusts that it will work. Maybe he can shower with his mask on to keep the possibility of panic attacks as nothing more than a possibility. His hair might get more than a little dirty, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

 

“What else?” He asks, placing the mask back down.

 

“What else?” Toto asks, chuckling as he shakes his head. “I just gave you a brand new suit, with upgrades, a week after you gave me the one that you broke.”

 

“I didn’t break it,” Kimi says, his tone straddling both defensive and playful. “The Hornet broke it! I was just trying to keep innocent people from dying.”

 

“You know that isn’t what I mean,” Toto sighs. “There’s a few tweaks to your boots, too. They’re better for jumping and landing.”

 

Kimi nods, but that’s just a tweak. That’s not something new. The suit has only been fixed and upgraded since last weekend, surely the team were up to something else in the month proceeding! So he watches Toto expectantly, and his boss gives in.

 

“This is the last thing,” he warns him. “Close your eyes.”

 

Kimi does what he’s told, holding out his hands and cupping them without prompting as he waits expectantly to be given the final piece of kit. He thinks back to his list and wonders what it could be, or if it’s something that even he couldn’t dream of. The people working here… They’re far smarter than he could ever hope to be. He can’t imagine what sort of technology they’ll be able to brainstorm.

 

Something is placed into his hands, cold and metal and small, and he reflexively moves his fingers over it even though he hasn’t been told he can. His eyes are still closed, he’s obeying the letter of Toto’s instructions rather than the spirit of them.

 

“Sergi gave me that little ‘bee’ thing back in Jeddah, after you told me everything,” he explains. “I had the team reverse engineer it. So when you mentioned you wanted something similar…”

 

Kimi doesn’t wait any longer, snapping open his eyes to stare at what he’s been given. A little mechanical spider, small enough to fit in the palm of just one of his hands, with spindly blue legs attached to its metallic body. It has two little cameras as eyes, shimmering green as they look up at Kimi. He smiles from ear to ear - this is beyond his wildest dreams! When he asked Toto for a spider he didn’t think he’d get a spider so… Adorable! He’s only half listening, tongue poking out in deep focus as he stares intently at the little robot.

 

“It can send messages to your suit,” he explains. “It can hear you, and you can read the messages it responds with. Think of it like an extra pair of eyes and ears. It can help with surveillance, it can gather information, it can–”

 

“Pedro!” Kimi declares, finally emerging from thought.

 

When he looks up and meets Toto’s eyes, he finds his boss staring at him. 

 

“I don’t understand,” he eventually says.

 

“His name is Pedro,” he insists, raising his hands to show Pedro off to Toto. “After my old engineer, remember?” 

 

Toto nods. He looks utterly bewildered, but Kimi just keeps smiling, pulling Pedro back to inspect him more thoroughly. After a moment, he places the robot on the table in the middle of the room and picks up his mask. It slips over his head just as easily as it used to, though his vision is greatly improved now thanks to the restored cameras and full spectrum of colours. But more importantly, he can see a stream of messages in the bottom corner of his field of vision.

 

[HELLO SILVER SPIDER! I AM AT YOUR SERVICE!]

 

[PEDRO IS AN EXCELLENT NAME, SILVER SPIDER!]

 

[PEDRO WILL ASSIST IN ALL MANNER OF CRIME FIGHTING!]

 

“Oh, he’s perfect!” Kimi exclaims, looking down to the robot. “You’re brilliant!”

 

[PEDRO THANKS THE SILVER SPIDER FOR HIS COMPLIMENT!]

 

“Thank you, Toto,” Kimi says softly.

 

Before he can get another word out, he feels his ribs being crushed. Not because anything bad is happening, but because Toto’s arms have wound around his chest and are holding him tightly. Kimi can feel his head on top of his mask, his heart beating far too quickly in his chest, but if he looks up he can’t see his face. He doesn’t know if he should be worried about Toto’s well being or not. 

 

He speaks before he can panic.

 

“You scared me.” Toto mutters in Italian, and Kimi relaxes into the embrace as he replies in turn.

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

“I know. You’re a good person, too good. When I heard you were on that yacht when it sank… I thought you were gone.”

 

“I’m not,” Kimi reassures. “I won’t. I promise. You don’t have to find a replacement for me mid-season,” he jokes.

 

Toto’s arms leave him, hands finding his cheeks instead. Worn palms and calloused thumbs trace the fabric of his mask, and Kimi closes his eyes as he leans into the gesture. Toto can’t see how much this means to him, and having the barrier there makes it easier to feel the true weight of the situation. There’s only three people in the world that know his secret, and one of them seems to be hellbent on him ending up dead. For years, Toto has been like a father to him, so it’s nice to have at least one of his father figures know what he’s going through. 

 

“It’s not about the seat, Andrea,” he says softly, tone treading the line of a warning. “It’s about you. I want you safe. You’re going to do great things, you can’t waste your potential.”

 

Kimi nods his head, and he feels Toto lean down to press a fleeting kiss to the top of his mask. His breath hitches in his throat. He’s spent so much time being brave, fighting the Hornet and putting others before himself, that he’s forgotten about his own needs. The hug was one thing, but now he’s bordering on crying behind his mask. So he keeps it on for the time being, until he can get his emotions in check and hide how he feels again. As nice as it is to be comforted, it’s not exactly conducive to his superhero persona. 

 

“Can you make a watch?” He asks, changing the conversation away from uncomfortable emotions as quickly as he can. “So if I don’t have my mask on, I can still talk to Pedro?” 

 

“That should be easy enough,” Toto nods. “We’ll try and get it to you by Austria.”

 

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, finally pulling his mask off and leaning down to be eye level with Pedro.

 

“He’s not a toy,” Toto warns him. “And don’t let people see him. There’s a sensor on the top of his head. Touch it and he’ll retract his legs, and you can put him in your pocket.”

 

Kimi moves his thumb over the metal to the spot that Toto’s referring to, and he watches as the legs shoot inside Pedro’s body, his little green eyes blinking shut as if he’s going to sleep. He just looks like a strange lump of metal. He scoops up the little deactivated robot and slips his friend into his pocket, before shrugging his backpack off his shoulders and starting to pack up his new suit. 

 

“Enjoy the break,” Toto tells him gently. “Be back here in a week for your simulator work. Spend some time with your family, I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you.”

 

He nods as he pulls his bag back on, walking quietly with Toto as they leave the factory behind. Toto is kind enough to let him stay in the spare bedroom in his apartment before he flies out in the morning, something he’s done countless times over the years. But Kimi doesn’t make it that far. Before they’ve even made it from the factory to the motorway he’s fallen fast asleep in the back of the car, using his bag as a pillow. 

 

Being a superhero is tough work. Having someone like Toto on his side makes it a little bit easier.

 

+ + +

 

Bologna, Italy
Friday 6 June 2025

 

@spider_spotter_official Soaring over the Monegasque skyline, the Silver Spider chases after @hornet.watch! The way he moves is incredible! 

 

@spider_spotter_official Some close ups of the Silver Spider’s tattered suit after the explosions on the yacht in Monaco - post your theories on what happened!

 

@spider_spotter_official There’s rumours that the Silver Spider has a sweetheart. Who do you think it could be? Does this reveal his identity?

 

@spider_spotter_official Analysis of the Silver Spider’s web shooting abilities…

 

The first rule of being a high profile celebrity, particularly one so young, is to never Google your own name. But the knowledge that Esteban Ocon is out there, posting about his every movement on Instagram, is simply too much to resist. He’s followed the account - obviously - and has spent the last few hours scrolling through every video of himself that’s been posted. He started at the beginning, and has gradually made his way to the most recent posts where Esteban’s started doing more than just reposting, he’s theorising. Thankfully none of his theories are going to give him away, though maybe he needs to have a quiet word about the whole ‘does the Silver Spider have a sweetheart?’ angle. For Ollie’s sake, of course. 

 

His evening of research has enlightened him to several useful pieces of information. Firstly, Esteban is far further from figuring out his identity than he’d worried he might be. Secondly, Esteban is mostly using the account to torment Ollie. And thirdly, there isn’t a soul in the comment section who believes that he is the Silver Spider. All three facts are a weight off Kimi’s shoulders. Which is why, noticing that it’s finally past midnight, he can put his phone down and cross the room to his backpack. He reaches in and grabs Pedro carefully (he doesn’t know how much he can feel, after all). 

 

Sitting back on his bed, cross-legged, Kimi stares down at the strange hunk of metal. He hasn’t reactivated Pedro since leaving Brackley earlier in the week - not wanting to risk being found out - but after a few nights at home he’s reacquainted himself with his family’s routine. His parents went to sleep an hour ago, Maggie two hours before that, he’s the only one awake in this corner of Italy and he wants to take some time to get to know his new friend.

 

He can’t exactly wait for the Hornet to do something to figure out what it is he can do. Kimi needs to understand Pedro’s full potential so that the next time he goes toe to toe with the villain, he can do something about it. Something more than just throwing punches and praying they land.

 

Knowing he’s alone, Kimi pulls his mask over his head and reaches out. His fingers brush over the cool metal, and he taps the small sensor to awaken the robot.

 

Eight spindly legs shoot out and Pedro’s little green eyes blink to life. He flexes his joints and gears and tilts his body back and forth. Behind his mask, Kimi smiles down at the little guy. 

 

“Ciao,” he says softly. “Parli Italiano?”

 

There’s no response from the droid, who just tilts his head further. Kimi sighs. Trust a factory in England to make a supersuit with ease, but to only be able to make a monolingual robot!

 

“Okay,” he tries again. “Hello, Pedro.”

 

[GOOD EVENING SILVER SPIDER! PEDRO HOPES YOU HAVE HAD A PLEASANT DAY!]

 

“You’re an enthusiastic guy, eh?” He smiles. “What do you do?”

 

[PEDRO ASSISTS THE SILVER SPIDER IN HIS CRIME FIGHTING ENDEAVOURS!]

 

“But what is it you do?” He repeats. “Your functions, your powers, abilities?” 

 

[PEDRO IS CAPABLE OF IMPROVED SIGHT, ADVANCED TRACKING TECHNIQUES, AND COMMUNICATIONS!]

 

“So, you see things?”

 

[PEDRO IS FAR MORE COMPLICATED THAN THE SILVER SPIDER’S ASSESSMENT IMPLIES!]

 

“Then tell me.”

 

There’s a moment where Kimi doesn’t receive a message, and he thinks he’s outsmarted the robot in just a few sentences. He’s about ready to take him back to Toto and ask for a less defunct model when another piece of text appears in the corner of his screen.

 

[THERE IS A SMALL HUMAN LIFEFORM APPROACHING! DANGER! DANGER!]

 

Kimi swipes his mask off his face and reaches out quickly to smack Pedro’s button harder than necessary to turn him off. He twists his body and tucks his mask beneath his pillow when the door to his bedroom opens and, indeed, there’s a small human lifeform approaching.

 

“Andy?” 

 

Maggie’s voice is small and frightened, and Kimi switches seamlessly from English to Italian. Despite Pedro’s warning, she’s not a danger, so he slips easily into big brother mode.

 

“Tesoro, ciao,” he replies gently, opening up his arms to invite her over for a hug. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I had a bad dream,” she explains.

 

Maggie moves slowly towards him, sleep still lingering in her voice and her body. She’s clutching Bombo tightly against her chest and she practically falls into his arms. He cuddles her tightly and pulls her up onto his bed so she can nestle against him properly. This is one of the things he misses most when he’s traveling. He misses the opportunity to be there for his little sister, to watch her grow up. It’s not so bad now that they’re in the European leg of the season - though he’s conscious that he’s jetting off to Canada over the weekend - and now that school is on the brink of breaking up for summer, but towards the end of the year he’s barely going to see her. He’ll come back from a triple header and she’ll have grown three inches.

 

He still isn’t sure if he’d rather she was at home or at the races, still isn’t sure where she’s safest, but right now the stakes are much lower. She doesn’t need protection from the Hornet, she needs protecting from a bad dream. 

 

Kimi can handle that.

 

“What was the dream about?” He asks her softly, rubbing her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

 

Maggie sniffles, bringing one hand up to wipe her eyes. 

 

“You,” she whispers. “Y-you got hurt! The bad guy came to a race a-a-and he got you l-like he got O-O-Ollie,” she stammers through her words sadly.

 

“Oh, tesoro,” Kimi sighs. 

 

“I-I-I t-t-tried to s-save you,” she continues. “B-b-but I was t-too late a-an-and…”

 

The last few words are unintelligible as the tears Maggie shed before she entered the room return, and Kimi just holds her a little more tightly. 

 

“I’m okay,” he whispers. “I promise. I’m here, eh? No one’s going to hurt me.”

 

He licks his bottom lip, which is mostly healed down. His hands, similarly, have mostly recovered from the fight in Monaco. They’re subtle enough that he doesn’t think Maggie’s noticed the scabs, certainly not to the degree that she could possibly know why he’s gotten them. She - and the rest of the family - have no idea about what he truly is, and he’ll do everything he can to keep that from them for as long as possible.

 

“N-normally,” she sniffles. “I talk to Bombo.”

 

As much as he dislikes the toy, he’s not going to say anything. His ten year old sister is having nightmares, he’d be a terrible brother if he told her the toy was evil and needed to be disposed of.

 

“Does she help?” He asks instead - encouraging her as she nods against his chest.

 

“She’s nice,” she agrees. “She says nice things to me.”

 

Kimi swallows, closing his eyes and taking in a breath to calm himself down. It’s a metaphor, he tells himself. Maggie is a child. Children have imaginary friends. She’s having nightmares and this is a coping mechanism for her. 

 

“What sort of nice things?”

 

“That I’m brave, and strong, and the bad dreams are just bad dreams, they don’t have to be real.”

See, harmless. He’s paranoid, overthinking things for no apparent reason. Kimi’s not there to coax her through her bad dreams, so she helps herself through Bombo. It does make him feel guilty that he’s not there, that their father is travelling the world with him and away just as frequently as he is, but he tries to focus on the fact that she does have coping mechanisms. He’ll have to make an effort to call more often during race weekends, he’ll try to make sure she doesn’t feel so alone. Their mother will be doing a brilliant job of raising her, he knows that, but he also knows it’s not the same to only ever have one parent around. He misses his mother dearly when he travels, and his relationship with his father wasn’t the best growing up because he was always the one pushing him when he was karting.

 

He wants to be a better brother for Maggie. 

 

“She’s right,” Kimi tells her, kissing the top of her head again and giving her another tight squeeze. “You are brave, and you are strong, and bad dreams are just dreams.”

 

“Grazie, Andy,” she whispers as she slips out of his arms.

 

Saving the world is a noble task, but it doesn’t half compare to making his little sister smile.

 

“Head back to bed,” he whispers. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” she tells him.

 

Kimi waves, watching her scamper out of the room. She leaves the door wide open as she runs with Bombo back to her own bedroom, guided by a soft nightlight in the corridor, closing the door once she’s back in the safe haven of her room. He sighs, standing up to close his own door again so he can have some privacy and try to speak to Pedro once more. 

 

Perhaps he’s not defunct, he thinks to himself as he pulls his mask out from under his pillow and back onto his head. Perhaps he’s exactly what he needs.

 

+ + +

Montreal, Canada
Wednesday 11 June 2025

 

Having never been to Montreal before - or even to Canada - this is a weekend that Kimi’s long been looking forward to. A brand new country is always exciting, and whilst being a Formula 1 driver means he has a strict schedule and limited time to explore his new surroundings, he can at least lean on the opportunities presented to him during PR activity.

 

The midway smells of candyfloss, pretzels, popcorn and hotdogs. Kimi’s salivating just walking through the funfair, and he imagines George is too - even if he won’t admit it. Doriane will admit it, though, and for that reason she’s managed to convince the team to buy her a stick of candyfloss that she’s eating with the smuggest of looks on her face. Kimi is fairly certain that he’s breathing in the amount of sugar Sergi would allow him to eat in a week just by walking alongside her, but he’d take the punishment that would come for just a pinch of the fluffy pink stuff. He’d take the punishment for anything. Everywhere he looks there’s donuts, candy apples, burgers, chips, corn on the cob… His stomach rumbles and his pupils are wide, devouring everything he can see with his eyes since he knows even a bite would throw off his weight for the race on Sunday.

 

As reminiscent as this is of a childhood he never got to have, Kimi keeps in mind that they’re here on business, not fun. One of their sponsors (he can’t remember who, he wasn’t listening) wants them to promote a product (he can’t remember what, he wasn’t listening) by competing at various carnival games. It doesn’t seem like effective marketing to him, but what does he know? He’s just a high school student, a Formula 1 driver, and a superhero. Impressive as that trio of responsibilities is, none of his roles have anything to do with international marketing strategies.

 

They’ve got a schedule to keep, so their content manager helps them jump the queue at a coconut shy. Kimi and Doriane have GoPros on their heads, whereas George has opted for a full harness and a chest camera. It’s supposed to provide a more dynamic and engaging experience for the video… Kimi, honestly, couldn’t care less.

 

George is up first, taking the whole thing deadly seriously, and Kimi and Doriane stand back to watch him work his magic. Being in the Mercedes Academy and at Prema at the same time, Kimi likes to consider her a good friend. So when he stage-whispers for the camera, he hopes she knows this isn’t just a bit. 

 

“Do you want to team up?” He asks her. 

“It’s every woman for herself,” she grins. “And you’re not getting my candyfloss.”

 

George throws his first ball and totally whiffs the shot, missing every single coconut and exclaiming one of the many Britishisms Kimi is yet to totally grasp. This time? Codswallop. He’ll text Ollie later and ask what it means.

 

“I don’t mean that,” he assures. “We can have a fair fight, but if we work together… We can make sure George loses, eh?” 

 

“Ahh, we work together and then–” she makes a stabbing motion with her stick. “I stab you? Or maybe–” she brings the stick to her throat and slowly drags it through the air. 

 

“Eh,” Kimi laughs uncertainly. 

 

He’s pretty sure she’s playing it up for the camera, she’s not actually going to stick a candyfloss stick through his heart. 

 

They both return to focusing on George as he finally manages to land a shot. And, somehow, the ball ricochets off the coconut and hits another, which hits another. George cheers, whooping as he throws his arms into the air to celebrate.

 

“Deal,” Doriane tells him, holding out her hand. 

 

George doesn’t notice as they shake, and he doesn’t notice either as they take it in turns to cough or sneeze when he’s getting ready to throw. He just misses his shots, asks them if they’re feeling okay (in a tone that’s so genuinely concerned, Kimi almost feels bad about pranking him), and gives them the benefit of the doubt.

 

It means it isn’t particularly hard for Kimi to beat him when it’s his turn to throw, and true to their agreement Doriane plays fair. But with George taking twelve balls to knock down the five coconuts, and Kimi taking eight, it’s fairly easy for Doriane to step up to the plate and wipe the floor with them both. In the end, it’s not even close. She takes out all five with just three throws. George’s jaw is on the floor, and Kimi - who wasn’t even sabotaged - stares at her in disbelief.

 

He’s just made a deal with the devil, and the devil throws with one hand whilst she holds candyfloss in the other.

 

Next up is a game that it’s harder to gang up on George with. Filling balloons with water to make them explode. Kimi and Doriane flank George as they each line up and take their waterguns, and Kimi decides that the best way to keep things interesting is to introduce a bit of trash talking to the game. The viewers will like that, some healthy competition!

 

“You’re going down, George,” he says, as uncreative as himself as he is as the Silver Spider.

 

“Oh, Kimi, I am a master at this game,” George laughs.

 

But it turns out that the devil is just as good at squirting water at a target as she is throwing balls at coconuts. Or, more accurately, she’s better at paying attention to the countdown to start whilst Kimi and George are bickering playfully back and forth. Once Doriane is ahead, there’s nothing either of them can do to claw back a lead. She wins by a wide margin.

 

Two games in, and it’s already two-nil-nil. This is embarrassing. 

 

As they make their way towards the next game, Kimi falls into step besides George and whispers to him next. 

 

“We need to take her down,” he explains. “She cannot win like this!”

 

“It’s a little bit embarrassing,” George admits with a chuckle. “We’re teaming up, then?”

 

Kimi nods. Maybe if he plays both sides, Doriane and George will be too busy trying to beat each other and he’ll be able to sneak his way to victory! Why didn’t he think of this before?! He’s a genius! 

 

George pats him on the shoulder to agree to this plan, and Kimi goes back to walking solo with his hands in his pockets. Play it smooth and cool and neither of them will know about his double crossing. 

 

The next game is one that George seems frighteningly familiar with. His entire explanation is just, ‘it’s hook-a-duck, mate! Everyone knows hook-a-duck!’ and Kimi is left with a long pole, a small hook, and a paddling pool full to the brim of plastic yellow ducks. All three of them stand around the pool at the same time, starting to hook the ducks on a whistle and getting a minute to catch as many as possible. Despite not knowing what the game is a minute ago, Kimi manages to hook a plethora of ducks, and once the sixty seconds is up he raises his pole into the air in victory.

 

“Yes!” He cries, but when he turns back around George and Doriane are smiling at each other.

 

Oh, no…

 

Kimi watches on in horror as the ducks are turned over and the numbers on the bottom are revealed. Points. His ducks are worth a pitiful amount of points, and despite his clear duck advantage his lead is quickly eroded. And when all is counted up, he gasps as he realises the extent of the betrayal. All of his measly 1 point ducks have orange beaks. George and Doriane’s 3 and 5 point ducks have green and pink beaks. 

 

At least, he supposes, George wins. At least it’s now two-one-nil. At least Doriane isn’t running away with it. But with only two more games to play, the best Kimi can hope for is to tie it up. He doesn’t feel particularly hopeful until he spots that they’re being directed by their content manager towards the strength tester. This he can nail. Nothing George or Doriane can do will sabotage his attempt now. He’s got this. The comeback arc of the season! Forget a first lap puncture to a podium, this is what will go down in history as his greatest rookie performance. 

 

Doriane goes first, Kimi and George standing back and watching her. Her strength doesn’t surprise either of them, though the man besides the game certainly seems taken aback by the fact that a girl could be so strong. And if Kimi weren’t so determined to finally claw back a point for himself, he’d be happy to let her win this one just to prove the stall owner wrong.

 

When George goes to hit, Doriane sneezes, and Kimi can tell from the way she has to quickly wipe a smile off her face that it was on demand. George, surprised, just glances the target with the foam hammer and his registered strength is a lot lower because of it. So Kimi knows he has this one in the bag, but he won’t allow himself to fall foul of their tricks. He’s going to win, and he’s going to win big. 

 

Kimi takes the foam hammer from George with a confident grin, wrapping his hands around the handle and positioning himself directly in front of the minigame. He stands with his back to the jeering Doriane and George, ignoring them trying to throw him off as he moves his feet shoulder width apart and sets himself up for success. He takes a deep breath, focuses on his target, lifts the hammer high above his head…

 

And brings it down with such force that he recoils against the blow he delivers, watching as his score goes up and up and up… Far surpassing George’s, then Doriane’s, and finally maxing out the machine entirely. There’s no doubt at all that he’s won.

 

Finally, two-one-one.

 

“Yes!” He laughs. “No duck can take this from me, eh?!”

 

George and Doriane practically double over with laughter, but Kimi is too proud to care. At least he won’t be entirely embarrassed by the situation at hand. Even if Doriane wins the next game, he’s tied with George for last. His priority, really, is making sure that George doesn’t win this next game.

 

It’s going to be difficult to disrupt either of his fellow competitors through the funhouse, and with their content manager insisting they go in one at a time all he can really do is hope he can make it through faster than anyone else. The three of them play a quick round of rock-paper-scissors to decide the order they’re taking on the challenge in. George first, Kimi second, Doriane third.

 

There’s little that Kimi and Doriane can do whilst George takes off to make his way through the funhouse, disappearing through the entrance and almost hitting his head on the doorframe. His loud complaints at the height disadvantage echo as he heads inside and the two left waiting laugh together. But as George ploughs ahead, Doriane leans over to whisper into Kimi’s ear.

 

“You know,” she says, loud enough for their cameras to pick them up. “If you’re going to make a deal with me, you might want to check I don’t already have a deal.”

 

Kimi turns to face her with furrowed brows.

 

“Eh?”

 

“I made a deal with George on the way over,” she reveals with a grin. “We knew you would play dirty.”

 

Kimi gasps. It should’ve been clear from the moment that his ducks had scored so pitifully in the hook-a-duck game, but he thought after making two alliances he was a shoe-in! The fact that they predicted his moves so perfectly… If he wasn’t so competitive, he’d be impressed with their work.

 

“Traitor,” he accuses her, which only makes Doriane laugh. 

 

“What are you two laughing about?!” George calls from where he’s exited the funhouse. “And what’s the time to beat?”

 

“Two minutes, ten seconds,” their content manager confirms.

 

George gives a thumbs up, and Kimi has no opportunity to respond to the treachery against him before he’s being waved towards the entrance. They’ve got an event to attend this evening, and they’re running out of time in their strict schedule. He wishes he could stay a while longer, but he reminds himself once more that he’s here on business.

 

And since it’s business, he’s here to win.

 

The first thing to navigate is a maze of mirrors. The room is dark, the mirrors distorting his reflection and making it difficult to assess the depth of the world around him. It’s a place that could be difficult to stumble through, but Kimi’s gotten used to adjusting his vision between his regular eyesight and the cameras provided by his mask, and so he takes it in his stride. It only takes a moment to track through the darkness and before long he’s blinking back the blinding brightness of the outside world and looking at the next obstacle. 

 

Metal circles on the floor spin in opposing directions, designed to test his core strength and balance. He bounds across them with similar ease, before squeezing through rotating foam columns. Next up, a staircase split down the middle. Each half moves independently of the other, but Kimi finds no difficulty in overcoming this. 

 

Admittedly, games at funfairs are designed for families with children, not elite athletes. But everything being easy doesn’t necessarily make it any less fun. It’s the competition that makes it fun, it’s knowing that getting through it easily means he’s got a chance of winning that makes it fun.

 

The rest of the obstacles are just as easy to progress past. There’s a floor that gyrates and shakes, a section where he has to duck under water streams (which is without a doubt the worst challenge for him to overcome), and a treadmill he’s got to run against. The hardest part, really, is the fact that he’s being constantly blinded by flashing lights and assaulted by loud, repetitive music. 

 

The final section takes him down a slide, then onto a treadmill that spits him out onto a foam mat. He just narrowly avoids crashing into George’s leg, his teammate having to jump back out of the way.

 

“Woah, mate, careful!” He laughs.

 

“What was the time?!” Kimi shouts to their content manager, he’ll apologise for almost taking George out in a minute. 

 

“One minute, fifty three seconds,” she confirms.

 

George groans in dismay and Kimi cheers, hopeful that he isn’t celebrating prematurely as Doriane runs in to begin her own timed adventure. Whilst she does, Kimi gets back to his feet and looks to his teammate.

 

“I can’t believe you made a deal with her!” He complains. “She’s going to win now!” 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t think we’d take precautions against you,” George chuckles. “You confessed to stealing a man’s credit card on a podcast, I’ve made deals with the production team most times we film something to counteract whatever mischief you’ve got planned.”

 

Kimi stares at him with wide eyes. How long has this been going on for?! 

 

There’s nothing more to be said, because at the end of the day Kimi knows it’s funny for content purposes. The fans already eat up their so-called brotherly dynamic, and this conversation will be cut together to form a crucial part of that. The social media team will love it, and the Board will love that. So instead, they wait for Doriane to emerge.

 

And they keep waiting for Doriane to emerge.

 

And when the three minute mark passes, the content manager steps closer to the entrance. 

 

“Doriane?” She calls. 

 

When there’s no response, Kimi feels compelled to step forwards. There might not be a tingling in his wrist right now, but that doesn’t remotely mean that everything is okay. There’s nothing within the funhouse that should be leading to such a delay for Doriane, which must mean something’s gone wrong. Maybe she’s fallen on one of the moving floors and hurt herself, maybe she’s gotten lost in the maze of mirrors.

 

And maybe, just maybe, there’s something else going on.

 

For the sake of the videos looking good and everything going smoothly during filming, their content manager has been carrying their things around with them. Kimi subtly grabs his backpack and pulls it onto his shoulders before he approaches the entrance of the funhouse once more.

 

“I’ll find her,” he offers.

 

Before anyone can protest, he steps into the funhouse and blinks to readjust his eyes as he’s plunged into the darkness of the mirror maze. Rather than race through, this time he’s slow and methodical. He keeps one hand outstretched against the left wall and follows every path, making his way to dead-end after dead-end in case Doriane is there. It takes him a few minutes to check the area thoroughly, but soon he can see the telltale streams of flashing LEDs coming through the strands of foam that try to cushion against light spilling into what’s meant to be a dark area.

 

And that is when his wrist starts to tingle.

 

“Oh, shit,” he whispers, reaching up quickly to stop the camera on his head from recording anything else.

 

Kimi hears a scream behind him, somewhere back in the mirror maze, and he recognises it to be Doriane. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he knows he needs to be ready for whatever might be thrown his way. So he takes a step back whilst he shrugs his bag off his shoulders, unzipping it as he crouches down, and he grabs his suit to change as quickly as he possibly can. The feeling in his wrist gets worse with every passing second and Kimi’s heart is in his throat by the time he’s fully dressed. 

 

The last thing he does before retracing his steps to leave the funhouse is press the little sensor on top of Pedro’s head, watching as the small robot blinks his green eyes to life.

 

[GOOD AFTERNOON SILVER SPIDER! PEDRO HOPES YOU ARE HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY!]

 

[PEDRO SENSES IMMEDIATE DANGER!]

 

“I sense it too, Pedro,” Kimi whispers. “My friend is in trouble.”

 

He only hesitates for a single moment longer, just long enough to shove his hand into the front pocket of his bag and brush his lucky charms with the tips of his fingers. Doriane’s in danger, he won’t go into this without getting what luck his keyrings will afford him. 

 

As he exits the funhouse, he leaves his bag where it is, hoping that George and the content manager won’t be smart enough to figure out what’s happened right under their noses after Kimi Antonelli entered and the Silver Spider comes barrelling out. He’ll find a way to explain it later if he needs to, or maybe he’ll just get Toto to draft up NDAs for them both, but when he sprints out of the amusement…

 

A thick fog has crept from nowhere to blanket the funfair, and Kimi can barely see the Ferris wheel in the distance - though the very top seems to be poking out from the strange cloud. The constant flashing lights do little to pierce through the fog, and it’s so dense that he can’t see George or their content manager. On the one hand, it means no one can see him to question where the Silver Spider has come from. On the other hand, when Kimi takes a few steps forward, he comes to an abrupt halt when he kicks something and stumbles.

 

He looks down, and his heart sinks in his chest.

 

“No!” He gasps. “No, no, no!” 

 

Kimi sinks to his knees, reaching out desperately to tilt the head of the body in front of him. That’s all he needs to do to confirm what he’s seeing. The cheeks he’s holding carefully in his gloved hands are that of his content manager, her eyes closed and her face relaxed. 

 

“George?!” Kimi shouts, but there’s no reply. 

 

He turns on his heels, orienting himself as best he can within the fog that’s swallowed up the world around him, and he pushes through the dismal grey to reach where the exit of the funhouse should be. Just like before, he stumbles over something. And just like before, when he crouches down, he meets the body of a familiar face. George Russell. 

 

“Oh my God,” Kimi mutters to himself. “Are they dead?!” 

 

He stares at the sky, not because he’s asking any kind of deity for their input but because he’s looking for how this could’ve happened. 

 

[PEDRO CAN DETECT SIGNS OF LIFE INCLUDING: HEARTBEATS; BRAIN ACTIVITY; BREATHING; MUSCLE SPASMS; AND MORE!]

 

Not dead. Okay. But not dead doesn’t give Kimi anywhere near enough of the answers he wants right now. 

 

And he has a dreadful feeling that the only person that can give him the answers he needs is the person who’s caused this.

 

“Okay, focus,” he whispers to himself, pausing and closing his eyes.

 

Kimi needs to stop, to breathe, and to think. Panicking isn’t going to help anyone. He needs to figure out what he knows, what he doesn’t know, and what he can control. So, in that order, what does he know?

 

He knows very little, is his unfortunate assessment of the situation. He knows that Doriane is gone. He knows that the Hornet is here, and that’s why his wrist is tingling. He knows - no, assumes - that this sudden influx of fog has something to do with him, and is the reason that the people around him are unconscious. He also knows that his newly upgraded mask is protecting him from breathing in whatever has knocked these people out.

 

What he doesn’t know… That’s a much longer list. He doesn’t know where this fog has come from, or what it’s made of, if it’s just going to keep people unconscious or if it’s going to make their conditions deteriorate further. He doesn’t know where Doriane has gone, or where the Hornet is, or if those things are related. He doesn’t know how to save these people, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do next.

 

Finally, what can he control? 

 

Himself. Hopefully Pedro. Surely that can’t be everything, right? 

 

No, it isn’t. He reaches over George to take his phone from his pocket and manages to call the emergency services without needing to figure out his passcode. 

 

“Hello?” Kimi exhales with relief as soon as an operator picks up. “There’s been…” He looks around - how can he possibly describe something like this?! “An attack at the fairground. A cloud, people are unconscious, they need help. Send everyone you can, please.”

 

He knows he can’t loiter and wait around - not when the Hornet is here, and likely has Doriane with him - so he places the phone in the grass beside George without hanging up. That way, at the very least, the operator will be able to trace the location of the phone if they need more information and help will arrive for these people. He’s done at least one thing right, and now he needs to make a few more correct moves.

 

“What do we do, Pedro?” Kimi asks the little robot on his shoulder as he walks through the fog.

 

It’s disorienting at best, and downright terrifying at worst. He takes a few steps forward and walks straight into a ticketing booth, then turns around and stumbles over an unconscious family. 

 

[PEDRO SUGGESTS THE SILVER SPIDER ASCEND TO A HIGH VANTAGE POINT FOR BETTER VISIBILITY!]

 

Height. Of course! The top of the Ferris wheel is above the fog, and that might be just what he needs to get the true picture of this situation. Without knowing what’s around him, he elects to walk much of the way towards the Ferris wheel. It sticks out above the clouds like a beacon, guiding him through the fairground. The place has gone from whimsical and fun to downright haunting in the blink of an eye. The joyful carousel music is now eerie, the bright lights ominously appearing from nowhere like a hungry monster ready to pounce. Every step takes him closer to where he needs to go, but every step is full of uncertainty. He can’t tell if the crunches beneath his feet are dropped prizes, incorrectly disposed litter, or bodies. He doesn’t really want to find out.

 

Eventually, Kimi considers himself to be close enough to the Ferris wheel that if he swings his web he probably won’t collide painfully with another building. He raises his hand high above his head and shoots, feeling it anchor on the metal tracks for the cabins, and he pulls himself up as quickly as he can.

 

Landing is trickier than he’s expecting it to be. The air is still, so the cabin beneath his feet only moves when he disturbs it, but the force with which he lands is almost enough to throw him off entirely. He crouches and uses his gloves to stick to the surface, starting to survey the fairground around him as the cabin slowly stabilises.

 

From there he can see the top of a few rides and attractions, all cloaked at their bases with the same blanket of heavy grey cloud. He’s learning something new. Whatever this thing is, it’s heavier than air, which means that staying high is the most important way to avoid inhaling whatever it is. It doesn’t matter for him, but he doubts the Hornet will use whatever it is once. Kimi turns his head, eyes scanning the environment around him, and he looks over to another landmark in the fairground.

 

This, though, entirely untouched.

 

There’s a clear circle right around the circus tent, and he can spot something dark moving quickly. Not the Hornet.

 

Not the Hornet. 

 

Whatever it is, it’s accompanied by the Swarm, and that strikes fear into the very depths of Kimi’s heart.

 

“Pedro, what can you tell me about that thing?” He asks, pointing with one hand towards the tent in the hopes that his little robot will understand what’s being asked of him.

 

But before he gets an answer, the world beneath him shakes and Kimi’s newly stable cabin is suddenly starting to move.

 

The explosions catch him off guard even if they really shouldn’t. He should be prepared for anything when the Hornet is around. What surprises him even more is the fact that the cabin he’s standing on does more than just wobble. It starts to move lower, and lower, and lower… But it’s not falling, it’s still attached to the circular tracks of the Ferris wheel.

 

Oh, no. An awful realisation hits Kimi as he comes to the conclusion that the cabin is barely moving at all. But the Ferris wheel… 

 

It’s been dislodged, detached from its supports by the explosion, and Kimi and Pedro are now rolling straight toward the circus tent. The only place in the whole fairground not covered in a toxic fog. The only safe haven for people to hide. If anyone escaped the fog, that’s where they’ll be, and now the Ferris wheel is hurtling straight for them.

 

“Fanculo,” Kimi mutters under his breath, mind racing as he tries to think of a solution.

 

[PEDRO DOES NOT APPRECIATE THE SILVER SPIDER’S LANGUAGE!]

 

“I thought you only spoke English, you little–”

 

[PEDRO HAS DETECTED SEVERAL LIFEFORMS IN THE BIG TOP!]

 

Kimi growls at the changing topic, but it confirms his worst fears. The Ferris wheel needs to stop, but it’s just picking up speed as they roll down a minor slope. 

 

The cabin he’s standing on dips down below the fog, before quickly re-emerging a few moments later. The circus tent is that much closer than last time, he’s not going to have many chances to get this right. Kimi’s stomach churns as his body is thrown in ways not even a Formula 1 car can prepare him for. But what has prepared him for this is his altercation with the Hornet at the airport. He can attach his webs to the metal tracks of the wheel, and as he rotates back beneath the fog once more he jumps from the top of the cabin.

 

Initially, his body is just flung around like he’s a ragdoll on the end of a piece of string. Kimi once again comes out above the clouds, and the tent is even closer than before. It’s now or never. So when he finds himself suddenly subjected to the laws of physics - and gravity specifically - he manages to land on his feet and keep himself low to the ground, straining and groaning as he uses every bit of strength he has to stop the wheel from rolling forward any further.

 

He feels the tug against him first, and it’s like his shoulders are about to pop out of their sockets. He digs his heels into the mud and resists being dragged forward as much as he can.

 

And then the tug is gone, and Kimi can detach his webs and take a moment to recover. The wheel has stopped. 

 

He places his hands on his hips, catching his breath as quickly as he can. When the world shifts beneath him once more, it’s because the wheel has fallen on its side. Kimi can’t see that, of course, but he can assume it. Just like he’s going to assume - for his own sake - that it hasn’t crushed anyone, and that its inhabitants are totally safe and unharmed. 

 

But there’s more to be done than just stopping a runaway Ferris wheel, and with his lungs replenished Kimi pushes himself on towards the circus tent. He marches forward confidently, even if he doesn’t feel all that confident in himself. It only takes a few steps before the fog starts to thin and Kimi’s able to make out his surroundings clearly, and before long he steps into entirely clear air. The perimeter around the big top is narrow, maybe only two metres between the end of the fog and the cloth of the tent itself. Kimi jogs the perimeter to try and find a way in, but after travelling only a third of the way around he hears a round of applause from inside. Rather than keep going, he just ducks down, lifts the material, and sneaks his way in instead.

 

Stepping into a circus tent is like being transported into another world entirely. Kimi wonders if it’s just this circus tent, or if that’s all circus tents, but either way when he’s managed to sneak through several layers of cloth and canvas the new world around him is all encompassing. He quietly climbs the stairs at the back of the grandstand in front of him, emerging at the top and looking down over the rows and rows of tiered seating. They’re all full, save for a few single seats in isolated spots, and to keep his cover for as long as he needs Kimi moves towards one of those seats. The tent is mostly dark, no one says anything as he squeezes through the row and settles in for the show.

 

His wrist is tingling intensely. The Hornet is here. If he can keep himself hidden until he reveals himself, maybe he’ll have the element of surprise on his side when it comes to stopping him. Really, that’s the best he can hope for. In a circus tent packed to the brim with hundreds of people, Kimi can’t do anything that would risk their lives.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages,” the Hornet’s voice booms in the darkness, before a single spotlight slowly rises on the man in question. “You’ve come far and wide to see this circus, and today’s show will be very special indeed. You might have come expecting to see magic beyond your wildest dreams, death defying stunts and daring escapades, but I’m afraid the usual Ringmaster has… Come down with the flu!” His tone and smile are equally ominous, and Kimi’s stomach turns. “So, instead I’d like to perform an experiment. Who would like to perform an experiment with me?” 

 

The lights rise on the crowd, and they jump at this request, cheering and waving hands in all directions to try and get the Hornet’s attention. Kimi doesn’t understand this. The Hornet is not a new threat, his appearance has been widely circulated and reported on. After the incidents in Jeddah, in Miami, and in Monaco, the world is well acquainted with the Hornet and his wrongdoings. 

 

He can only assume these people have been threatened, and are falling into line for fear of repercussions if they don’t. 

 

“You, there,” the Hornet extends one arm, pointing with his long, clawed finger towards someone in one of the front rows. “Come here, little girl. What’s your name?”

 

Kimi leans forward with the rest of his row, looking to see who the volunteer for this experiment is. 

 

“Kendall,” the girl says with far too much confidence. 

 

She’s a scrawny little thing, with bright red hair that’s as untamed as the rest of her and startling blue eyes that seem to take even the Hornet by surprise. He approaches the audience, a hand outstretched, and takes her soft little palm in his large metal one. If she’s been threatened, she’s a damn good actress. Maybe she’s a plant? But where would the Hornet have acquired a child?!

 

The audience applaud for her as she enters the ring and the Hornet leads her to the centre, little Kendall having to skip to keep up with his much longer strides. The audience lights fade away whilst the spotlights return to the ring, highlighting the Hornet and his willing assistant. He takes her to a little pedestal and the audience watch her haul herself up, too stubborn and determined to accept the Hornet’s help in clambering up. They laugh when he steps back and pulls a face, and it’s only then that Kimi clocks his new get up.

 

Much of his suit and armour are the same, but it’s his mask that’s changed the most. Rather than the completely opaque look, there’s now windows that allow his real eyes to be shown. Even from this far back, Kimi can see the whites of them as he looks out at the audience expressively. 

 

He swears the Hornet sees him, and he swears the Hornet smiles.

 

“Kendall,” he shouts loud enough for the entire tent to hear. “Is going to fall asleep on my command.”

 

“But I’m not tired!” The little girl fights back with the stamp of her foot, and the Hornet chuckles.

 

The audience follows his move. Kimi feels as though he’s stepped into some horrifying sitcom set with how perfectly synchronised everyone's reactions are. 

 

“You don’t need to be tired to sleep like this, Kendall,” he assures her softly.

 

With the lighting the way that it is, it almost appears that the Hornet plucks one of his ‘bees’ from thin air. That gets another round of applause from the captive audience.

 

The Hornet holds his arm above Kendall, and Kimi tenses. He watches as the man pinches the ‘bee’ between his finger and thumb and a silent command is given. The ‘bee’ emits a small burst of gas, a thick white cloud obscuring the girl’s face. And, as quickly as it happens, she collapses on the spot. The girl falls forward onto the dust covered ground, the Hornet not making any move to catch her or soften her landing, and the audience get to their feet to provide a standing ovation. 

 

Kimi gets to his feet too, ready to leap into action. 

 

It means when the audience sits back down, Kimi is the odd one out. He doesn’t need a spotlight on him to draw the attention of everyone. He isn’t one of them, it’s clear for all to see.

 

He winces when a light is turned on him, squinting as his eyes adjust to the luminosity of the old bulb. Despite its age, it’s a powerful thing. He can feel the heat it’s giving off too, and he’s not entirely convinced he wouldn’t have melted away without the protection of his suit.

 

“Oh, everybody, it’s my esteemed guest!” The Hornet decrees. 

 

That makes them clap once more. Kimi’s starting to wonder if he’s hypnotised these people. How else could he have hundreds of people bowing to his every whim like this, but how could he have hypnotised this many people? How could he have hypnotised anyone?! 

 

He’s spiralling. He can’t spiral. He has to focus on the moment, on the here and now. Questions can come once everyone is safe. Kimi stands his ground, clenches his fists, and licks his lips. 

 

“Well, don’t just stand there,” the Hornet tells him, tone overly friendly. “Come down to the ring, Incy Wincy!”

 

Kimi’s got two choices: do as the Hornet asks, or don’t. One of those choices puts the audience in considerably more danger than the other. So, reluctantly, he squeezes past the few people at the end of his row and makes his way slowly down the stairs towards the Hornet. He feels the eyes of the audience on him, watching his every move as he descends towards the ring. 

 

He stops at the foot of the steps, keeping his head high and his shoulders back as he tries his best to portray someone confident, and strong, and in control. Really, Kimi knows he’s none of those things in the face of someone like the Hornet. From up close he can see his eyes more clearly, wide and mad with something. He thinks back to the World Champion he worshiped growing up, he thinks back to the kind man who wanted to save the bees, who fought for equality, and he can’t see a trace of that man in those eyes.

 

“What do you want?” Kimi asks him through gritted teeth. 

 

The Hornet looks at him and giggles, a sound that grates on his ears like nails on a chalkboard. 

 

“What do you want?!” Kimi asks again, louder this time. “I told you people would listen. Do you want things to change? Or do you just want to hurt people?” 

 

As suddenly as he started, the Hornet stops giggling. The silence is almost as terrifying as his laughter was. He marches forward, away from the unconscious Kendall and ever closer to Kimi. He doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t shift as much as an inch. If he gives the Hornet anything, then the Hornet will take everything.

 

“Oh, Spider,” he whispers, leaning forwards so his mask is practically brushing against his ear. “I want you to kneel.”

Forget not moving an inch, Kimi practically recoils at that request.

 

“Eh, to kneel?!” He exclaims with a laugh.

 

“Yes, to kneel,” he insists. “You said you’d listen, so listen.” 

 

Kimi sets his jaw and straightens his posture. He faces the same two choices again - do as the Hornet asks, or don’t. Before, the risks to the audience were overwhelming. Ignoring the Hornet’s demands would put them in danger. Now, Kimi is close enough to bear the brunt of any kind of attack. He’s in front of the Hornet, he can grab him, punch him, kick him, do anything to protect these people. Disobeying is worth it now. So he holds himself high, he doesn’t let fear get to him, he believes in himself. 

 

“Kneel,” the Hornet repeats, projecting his voice this time. 

 

When Kimi still remains still, he reaches out and swipes at his shoulder. 

 

“Pedro!” Kimi gasps.

 

“I SAID KNEEL,” the Hornet booms. 

 

Alright, maybe believing in himself is overrated.

 

Kimi drops to his knees, trying to keep his back straight regardless so he doesn’t look any smaller than he has to. He locks eyes with the Hornet so he doesn’t look afraid. He tries to recreate the illusion of having power over the situation at hand, but after his worried outburst for his new robot friend it’s hard to fix the shattered fragments of that mirage. Even in a circus, where the impossible should be possible, it’s a spectre too far.

 

The Hornet looks at his hand, the small droid practically quivering. Kimi didn’t ask Toto if the little guy had the capacity to feel emotions, but he doesn’t think he needs to ask anymore. 

 

He’s flicked aside, and Kimi dares to lean forward and catch him carefully in his palms.

 

[PEDRO THANKS THE SILVER SPIDER FOR HIS QUICK REFLEXES!] 

 

Kimi is wise enough not to respond, instead keeping his eyes on the Hornet as he walks back into the centre of the ring.

 

“Now, my dear audience,” the Hornet drawls slowly. “I have… A new act I’d like to show you…” 

 

The lights change, and with it comes a sudden build of music that’s been oddly absent from the previous few minutes. Kimi’s only noticing it now, as the sound of string instruments fill the tent, how quiet everything had been before. It’s a recognisable track, one that Kimi is certain everyone knows even if they can’t quite put their finger on its name. He can, though, because what other classical piece could it be?

 

The Flight of the Bumblebee grows in volume as the lights on the ring shift upwards, driving the audience’s attention away from the Hornet, away from Kendall and Kimi, and towards a highwire almost as high up as the tip of the Big Top itself. There are two individuals standing on one of the platforms holding up the wire. The first is almost identical to the unidentified figure Kimi spotted from the top of the Ferris wheel. The second…

 

Doriane.

 

“My glamorous assistant,” the Hornet begins as a spotlight flickers back to life on him. “Will administer a small drug to this woman, who’ll be able to perform a daring high wire act without a moment of practice. Assistant, if you will?” 

 

Kimi’s head jerks back up to Doriane, and he watches on helplessly as the Hornet’s proclaimed glamorous assistant does just that. From so far away, Kimi can’t really make out any substantial details. He can see that he’s got a suit of his own, which leads him to believe that he’s not a new ally. He’s been by the Hornet’s side long enough to have his own getup. It shimmers and sparkles in the spotlight, his dark suit cloaked with a constellation. 

 

Whoever he is, he holds Doriane’s head back by her hair, commands her to open her mouth, and holds a tiny pipette above her. Kimi can’t see how much liquid is forced onto her tongue and ingested, but he can’t imagine it’s much.

 

It’s enough, though, for her to immediately - and with no resistance at all - step forwards onto the highwire and begin to move with the fluidity of an acrobat who’d honed their craft for a decade. 

 

She bounds back and forth gracefully, running the length of the wire before stopping shy of the opposite platform, stretching out her arms, and jumping to propel herself backwards. She flips, then a second time, then a third time. Rather than land on the wire she drops below it, the crowd gasping as she catches it with her hands and points her legs as though she were a ballerina. She lifts herself back up with ease, and this time when she falls she catches the wire behind her knees and rotates quickly.

 

It’s terrifying to watch. One wrong move would send her plummeting towards the ground with nothing to cushion her fall, and yet she’s entirely unable to control her body. She spins, and spins, and spins, and lifts herself back onto the wire into a standing position.

 

From the platform to one side, where the other figure is standing, objects begin to be thrown towards Doriane. First, simple juggling balls. She juggles three, then four, then five, before she drops them all on command. Then, she’s thrown skittles. Two, then three, then four. Then, like the balls, she’s instructed to drop them by the figure and she does as she’s told.

 

There’s a flash of light and the audience gasps once more as something is set on fire. Three somethings. Three flaming batons are thrown at Doriane and, without question, she catches them and juggles them. But cracks in the illusion are beginning to show, because rather than juggle them with the perfect kind of coordination only a trained professional would manage, she falters when she catches them. Sometimes, it’s fine. Other times her hands envelope the flames in their entirety. She doesn’t stop juggling as she burns her hands repeatedly.

 

“Doriane!” Kimi shouts.

 

His shout is met with boos and jeers of the audience, but he can’t be expected to stand there and let it happen. Whether they’re hypnotised, or just terrified, how can they sit there and watch as she’s injured over and over again?!

 

Eventually, another command is given to drop the batons. They tumble towards the ground and extinguish themselves as they end up on the dusty floor - too close to the little girl for Kimi’s liking. His heart is pounding. He’s utterly unable to do anything to stop the madness. Any move he makes is just going to put more people in danger. Maybe he’d be able to save Doriane, but at what cost? How many lives is she worth?

 

“You see, little Spider,” the Hornet says softly, addressing him alone rather than the audience at large. “What I want is control…”

 

Kimi swallows, but he doesn’t dare to reply.

 

“What Humans have done to the world… It’s despicable. They can’t be trusted. They need someone with their best interests at heart to reverse the damage they’ve done, to try and nurture the Earth back to health. Our species is nothing without a planet to call home, but Earth will survive long after Humans are gone.”

 

“So… You’re just going to kill people until you get what you want?” Kimi asks slowly.

 

“I want control,” the Hornet repeats, crouching down in front of Kimi and reaching out.

 

His gloved hands come to cup his cheeks. Kimi worries he’ll be sick in his mask and choke on his own vomit if the gesture lasts for too long. His claw-like fingers are thin and spindly, moving so slowly that he swears he can feel the tip of metal poke through every miniscule hole in the fabric of his suit. 

 

“You’re kneeling in front of me,” he whispers. “I already control you.” 

 

Kimi tenses, setting his jaw and preparing to do something really, really stupid when something else beats him to it.

 

Doriane has fallen.

 

The world moves around Kimi in slow motion as he jumps back up, not caring what it means for him or for those around him anymore. If a hundred people die for him to save Doriane, then so be it. He won’t let the Hornet take anyone he cares about from him. He practically shoves the villain to one side, taking several long strides forward as he raises his arms and shoots out his webs to anchor on the ladder that climbs up to the highwire platforms. Just in time, too, as Doriane’s fall is broken by the webs. Kimi lets his muscles relax, making sure that his webs aren’t too tight. Her fall is properly cushioned and as she bounces back, he’s bought himself enough time to pull himself along the dusty floor and catch her before she hits the ground.

 

He places her on the ground, letting her stand on her own two feet, placing his hands reassuringly on her shoulder as she looks at him with fear in her eyes. She seems conscious of herself and her surroundings, but she doesn’t appear to wholly recall her experience of the last few minutes. She’s not reacted to her burnt hands either, which worries him. He doesn’t know if that’s a case of a loss of sensation from the burns themselves, or if whatever she ingested has caused some kind of dissonance between her mind and her body. If that’s the case, he hopes it isn’t permanent.

 

“What happened?” She whispers. “I don’t understand…”

 

“You’re safe,” Kimi tells her in no uncertain terms.

 

“But are you safe, Incy Wincy?” The Hornet asks him.

 

Kimi turns to face him once more, not letting himself be afraid in the face of danger. He stands between the Hornet and Doriane, spurred on by his desire to keep his friend out of harm’s way.

 

“Don’t you think you belong here?” He whispers, stepping forwards and leaning in close to whisper in Kimi’s ear. “Don’t you think we’d be great together? Ringmaster… And his prized freak show?” 

 

The way the Hornet is practically purring makes Kimi deeply uncomfortable. The low, baritone disguise of his voice makes his skin crawl, it rattles in his bones. His long, metallic fingers find Kimi’s jaw and tip his head back ever so slightly. He’s forced to look the Hornet in the eyes, at his dilated pupils and bloodshot scleras. If he didn’t already want to throw up, he certainly does now. He stands his ground, doesn’t deign to offer his enemy a response. Letting him see just how his words make him feel would be yet another demonstration of weakness, and Kimi has a terrible feeling that he’s done that enough in the last few minutes.

 

Pedro and Doriane are just two more examples of how the people and things he cares about come before everything else, and are the fastest way to manipulate and control him. 

 

The Hornet, though, appears to have gotten his fill of… Whatever it is he wanted. The entire rig of lights above them turn off, and the circus tent fills with the screams of hundreds of terrified audience members. There’s the sound of mechanical ‘bees’ buzzing through the air, and the hiss of gas being released. Kimi knows what's happening before the tent falls silent, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying when it happens. He reaches out instinctively, catching Doriane’s sagging body before it hits the floor.

 

By the time the lights turn back on, the Hornet and his assistant are long gone, a thick cloud has filled the tent, and everyone is unconscious. 

 

Kimi has a lot of questions. Too many questions. His head is spinning and he feels powerless. He tries to focus on the fact that the Hornet is gone, and he doesn’t have to worry about anything anymore. He needs to go back to his hotel, he needs to take a hot shower, and he needs to find a way to get ready for the race weekend ahead of him.

 

He picks Doriane up and carries her carefully out of the tent and through the fog. It’s slowly lifting outside, dissipating with time as he can only assume it will eventually do in the circus tent. He doesn’t let himself think about anything but walking back to the funhouse. There are too many unconscious people for him to be able to stop and help them all individually, but the sirens in the distance tell him that he’s done his duty for them. People with medical expertise will be here soon, they’ll investigate what’s happened and see if these people need any treatment, he’d just make things worse if he tried to help with this.

 

When Kimi makes it back to his group, he places Doriane beside George to make it look as though she made it out of the funhouse alone. He makes his way back inside, grabs his bag, and starts to swing his way from the scene of chaos and back towards his hotel. Kimi doesn’t know how he’ll explain his disappearance to the team if they ask any questions later, but that’s a problem for future Kimi to figure out. 

 

Kimi swings his way to a public library, sneaking inside as quietly as he can to find the bathrooms where he can change from his suit back into his regular clothes. His suit and mask are stuffed back into his bag, whilst Pedro is swiftly deactivated and stuffed into his jeans pocket. He’s only a block away from his hotel, a walk he can make quickly with fairly little attention, and before he knows it he’s scanning his key card against his door and letting himself back into his room. 

 

He kicks his shoes off and drops his bag by his desk. As he readies himself to collapse onto his bed and start processing the events he’s just witnessed, his day goes from bad to worse. 

 

His revision guide is staring back at him.

 

+ + +

 

Spielberg, Austria
Sunday 29 June 2025

 

Kimi is finally free.

 

After the horrors of the circus, and a perfectly successful weekend (P4 being the highest position he could achieve without a return to the podium), Kimi’s focus was entirely on studying for his exams. Thoughts of racing and heroism alike had been damn near surgically removed from his brain until the moment he stepped out of the exam hall on Tuesday afternoon, and ever since he’s fairly certain that every bit of knowledge he’s absorbed from the last twelve years of education have slowly but surely dripped out of his ears, formed a puddle at his feet, and slowly gravitated towards the nearest drain. 

 

Much as it would hurt his mother to hear it, his schooling hasn’t been important to him for years. He’s done his best for her sake, but he doesn’t need it anymore - not when he needs to make room for briefings with Toto and strategies with Bono. 

 

He’s qualified P3, which he’s perfectly content with, and Toto gave him a reward for securing such a good grid slot. Not a bonus, or his blessing to eat as much pasta as he can, but the watch that he’d requested to be able to speak with Pedro. It’s been on his wrist ever since, except for when he’s in the car, and no one’s questioned it. 

 

Why would they? It’s just a watch. 

 

He likes to think that he’s ready to step back onto the podium now. Not because he’s done anything as ludicrous as talk about his feelings, or process his trauma, but because he’s come up with the perfect podium celebration that will protect his face from champagne and keep him from spiralling into panic.

 

As he warms up with Sergi, he allows his mind to briefly wander back to the events of Canada. Not the race weekend, but the trip to the fairground. He’s not really given thought to it in the intervening days, but now that he’s no longer preoccupied with school and everything about the race is locked in, he can finally start to consider what happened and the implications of it all.

 

The Hornet isn’t alone. Really, something like that shouldn’t surprise Kimi, but it’s different to assume that there’s a team behind him creating his suit, his weapons, and his gadgets the same way that Toto and Mercedes are supporting him than to explicitly see someone else standing alongside him. Kimi doesn’t know what role he plays, if he’s just a glamorous assistant or if he’s going to become an actual threat. The fact that he seems to have a suit of his own suggests it’s the latter, which means he’s going to need to press Toto for more gear. Maybe if it’s two against one, he’ll finally get that gun he keeps asking for.

 

Then there’s the fact that the ‘bees’ don’t just explode anymore, they dispense a gas that can knock people out in just a few seconds. No casualties were reported, which is a relief, but it still represents a new challenge for him to overcome. He hasn’t had the chance to thank Toto and the team for the upgrade to his mask. It could’ve just been fixed to allow him to breathe underwater, but instead their forward thinking to protect him more broadly is the only reason he was around to save Doriane from falling to her death.

 

And finally, he’s left to wonder what the liquid the stranger gave to Doriane was. 

 

That’s what’s been troubling him the most over the course of his workout. The Hornet’s right hand man and the new ‘bee’ ability is one thing, but what happened to Doriane is an entirely different level of terrifying. A few drops of liquid were enough for her to do as she was commanded without question. That’s a horrifying level of power to wield. The Hornet said he wanted control, and if he can manufacture enough of that serum… The possibilities are too awful to think deeply about. He can only hope that it’s difficult to synthesise, that he’ll never be in a position to go around controlling world leaders and having them hand over power to him. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Sergi asks, snapping Kimi out of his thoughts.

 

And he could reply truthfully, because if there’s one person he can tell the truth and nothing but the truth - it’s Sergi. But right now, with the anthem in a few minutes, he’s not got the time to unpack it all. So instead, he just finishes his neck stretches and shakes his head.

 

“I was just zoned out,” he half lies. “We need to go to the grid now, eh?”

 

Sergi doesn’t push, which he’s grateful for. They just walk out to the track together, Sergi guiding him past the media and only letting him continue on his own once he’s right at the front of the grid. Kimi isn’t even the last to arrive, and he gets a precious few moments with the grid kid in front of him before he has to stand and listen to the anthem play. As it plays, Kimi becomes increasingly uncomfortable. It’s not because of the hot sun beating down on him - not directly, anyway.

 

The moment the anthem is over, Kimi waves to Sergi to acknowledge his presence and points back towards the garage to indicate that he’ll join him on the grid in a moment - that he just has to quickly head back to the bathroom before he climbs into the car. He’s about to step into the lavatory at the back of the garage when he realises something else - his balaclava is still in his driver room.

 

So instead he makes a small diversion and jogs back through hospitality, going to the bathroom first before he steps into his driver room for the briefest of moments. Pedro is sitting on the table beside his makeshift bed, and Kimi offers his friend a wave as he grabs the knitted fabric.

 

“See you after the race,” he promises the mechanical spider. 

 

He’s not got his mask on obviously, and his new watch sits unworn alongside his jewellery and good luck charms, so he doesn’t see the message his friend sends him as he leaves the room and heads straight back to the grid. 

 

Kimi’s brief departure means that the usual procedures of getting him in the car have to be rushed even more, pulling on his balaclava and helmet whilst Sergi makes sure he’s all plugged in and flattens his collar so it sits correctly. Despite the heat of the day, there’s still a few damp patches around the paddock so as he climbs into the car he pauses to allow Sergi to wipe the soles of his shoes. He steps in, holding the halo as he lowers himself into his seat, and once he’s comfortable the mechanics swarm him to buckle him up. Toto leans into the cockpit too, shaking his hand and giving him a thumbs up, and Bono chimes in over the radio to check all their systems are working correctly from the engineering wall.

 

Thoughts about the Hornet are pushed from his mind as he isolates himself from the world around him. He’s eager to pick up the pieces with Verstappen and Norris out in front. Everyone remembers last year, and even though they’re not fighting for a Championship this time around, Kimi - and the rest of the world - expect there to be fireworks. 

 

They pull away for the formation lap and Kimi builds as much of a gap to Norris as he can, weaving to work heat into his tyres and performing the requested number of burnouts on the way to the grid. He angles his car perfectly for his start and takes in a breath before staring, unblinking, at the lights above his head. The sound of the crowd cheering is drowned out by the revving engines around him, which in turn are drowned out by his heavily beating heart.

 

One, two, three, four, five…

 

The glowing red LEDs are cut off, and Kimi’s foot slams down on the accelerator at the perfect moment. He gets away well, without any wheel spin, and feels the g-forces force his body back against his seat. It’s exhilarating, the first moment of speed, and he’ll never stop loving the way that it gets his blood pumping. Turn 1 is clean, both for him and for the cars in front, but Kimi isn’t here to rush things. No, tensions are high and he doesn’t want to get caught up in the middle of an incident. He’ll hang back, let the rivals destroy their tyres and waste fuel fighting, and when they’re saving rubber and fuel he’ll leap into action and snatch the lead. 

 

Turn 2 (not really a turn) follows, then turn 3 and turn 4. Kimi steers using nothing but muscle memory. The track is easy, it flows, it’s fun to drive and he makes his way downhill through the third sector. The two ahead aren’t pulling away, but Kimi isn’t trying too hard to keep with them either. DRS is enabled and he watches their battle from a safe distance.

 

God, his head itches. 

 

It’s not often that he has the urge to scratch in the middle of the race, and usually that sensation fades after being ignored for a few moments, but it only seems to be getting worse lap after lap after lap. It’s like his hair is infested, like it’s become home to a colony of lice or a small family of birds, and the sensation goes from being mildly irritating to downright distracting.

 

“Alright Kimi, head down, you’ll get the place back.”

 

Bono’s voice over the radio pulls him back into the moment. Without realising it, he’s lost a position. Leclerc is up onto the podium and Kimi is down in P4. Shit! Focus, Kimi! 

 

He does what Bono tells him to and keeps his head down, using his tyre advantage and DRS to easily sail back past Leclerc. But the feeling just won’t go away, and it’s utterly unrelenting in its annoyance. He’s never been so distracted by a basic bodily function in the car before, and he really doesn’t know how to go about pushing through it. Instead of thinking about his racing lines, his mind keeps drifting back to how desperately he wants to tug at his hair and relieve the damn near painful desire to itch.

 

Kimi knows that he has to overcome this if he wants to make it to the end of the race, let alone score points or a podium, so he goes through every coping mechanism he can think of. He tries breathing differently, which is a more mammoth task than it sounds given he’s hurtling around a circuit at well over a hundred miles per hour. Worse than that, it doesn’t help. He comes in for his pit stop, but he’s slightly off his marks so it’s a slow stop. God, this race is fucking messy! He qualified P3, a podium was supposed to be a guarantee at the bear minimum and now he’s P -fucking- 5!  

 

Kimi tries to recentre himself as he pulls out of the pits and re-joins the track, tries to keep his head down, but that’s when he hears it. Through his earphones, over the noise of Bono trying to coach him to an overtake on Piastri, over the screaming of his engine and the whirring of gears. He hears it.

 

Buzzing.

 

His head itches, and with the same intensity his wrist tingles. There’s a ‘bee’ in his helmet. 

 

A fucking ‘bee’.

 

Kimi’s heart is already in overdrive, taking oxygen to his muscles as he pushes his body to the very limit, but now it’s beating so fast he’s pretty sure it’s stopped entirely. There’s a ‘bee’ in his helmet. He shakes his head and curses to himself. How is there a ‘bee’ in his helmet? He’s not seen Sebastian all weekend, he’s got no idea how this could’ve happened. Right now that question doesn’t matter. All that matters is trying to figure out a way to remedy the situation. He tries in vain to keep himself calm, to deal with this logically and sensibly, but his panic grows exponentially.

 

“Kimi?” 

 

Bono’s voice falls on deaf ears - he can’t hear him over the screaming in his brain to get it out. Shaking his head does nothing, no matter how aggressively he does it. Leaning forward to hit his helmet against the halo doesn’t help either. 

 

“Kimi, mate, can you hear me? What’s wrong?”

 

He hears something new then, the same soft hissing he’d heard in the circus tent, and the dread that Kimi feels is all encompassing. In an instant, he realises there’s no good outcome here. All he can do is try to mitigate how bad it’s going to be. He manages to find the brake pedal and press it as hard as he possibly can. He’s heading up into turn 4 as he feels his body growing heavier and his vision darker. 

 

During his last few moments of consciousness, Kimi is nothing more than a passenger. Not only in his car, but in his body. Despite his best efforts to reduce his entry speed, his car still hits the gravel faster than he’d like it to, and he’s thrown around like a ragdoll. He just about sees the tyre barriers coming before his eyelids become too heavy, and the last thing he sees is a flash of yellow on his dash to tell him that he’s in a sector of the track with double waved yellows.

 

No fucking shit he is. 

 

The next thing he sees is a concerned face. Several concerned faces, actually. The first he recognises as his Sergi, the second as Bono, and the third he doesn’t recognise at all.

 

“Andrea, can you hear us?” 

 

Kimi groans softly. His body feels awful. His neck is stiff and sore, a dull ache blossoms from his ribs, and his tongue feels like it’s on fire. He probably bit it at some point during the race, or the crash itself. This is categorically the worst part of racing. He’ll be fine when medication kicks in, or when he can do some exercises to help alleviate the pain, but for now he just has to tank the way that his body hurts with every breath he takes.

 

“Si,” he eventually replies, even though it takes some effort. 

 

“Good to have you back with us,” the stranger says. 

 

He guesses they’re a member of medical staff. Given he crashed and has been unconscious since, people have probably considered the worst. As horrible as crashing is, at least Kimi knows why he crashed. For everyone else looking on, all they saw was Kimi hurtling into the barriers and then not moving. The only thing more terrifying than crashing is to watch as a driver is extracted from their car by the medical team and airlifted to hospital - which is what he’s almost certain has happened to him. There’ll be good news to share with his family, with the team, and with the wider world now that he’s woken up. 

 

“Yeah, thanks,” he grumbles, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing at his eyes. 

 

The itching sensation has gone, and Kimi decides he’s going to take that as a positive. It might be the only good thing to come out of this afternoon.

 

“There’s some forms I need you to sign,” the nurse, or doctor, or whoever tells Sergi.

 

He supposes that, between Sergi and Bono, Sergi is the one with responsibility over him. He’s not been awake long enough to formulate a plan, but it really would’ve been good to talk to his trainer about what really happened. The truth. He can’t tell Bono the truth. Postponing the conversation with Sergi until his ears stop ringing is probably a good thing. Even if he only lost consciousness because of the ‘bee’, it doesn’t negate the fact that he’s had a fairly hefty impact and probably has some kind of concussion. 

 

He needs to stop making a habit of that.

 

When Sergi trails the doctor out of the room, Kimi is left alone with his engineer, and he sees something on Bono’s face that he’s not sure he’s ever seen before. 

 

“Good God, lad,” he exhales. 

 

There’s nothing light hearted about his tone, there’s no joking edge that usually comes with a statement like that. Kimi’s crash has done something utterly unprecedented - it’s made a middle aged British man face up to his emotions rather than bottle them up and push them down. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Bono’s book (and George would be proud of him for remembering that idiom), but bottling things up is working so well for him right now.

 

“You scared the living daylights out of me, bud,” Bono confesses.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kimi says, even if he’s not sure why.

 

He’s sorry for lying. He’s sorry for crashing. He’s sorry for the Hornet somehow managing to knock him out so he couldn’t respond to the radio messages asking if he was okay. He’s sorry that he’s struck fear into the hearts of millions of fans of the sport who think they’ve just witnessed a career ending crash for a promising young rookie. 

 

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Kim,” Bono tells him. “I just want you to be okay.”

 

Kimi’s got half a mind to lie, to tell him that he’s fine and reassure him as best he can, but as he tries to sit up the room starts to spin and immediately he’s letting his body fall back against the pillows of the bed.

 

“Stay still,” Bono instructs. “I think they said it was 40G. They did some scans. I thought you might…”

 

Bono licks his lips, and Kimi can see in his expression that no one feared a worse consequence than his engineer did. 

 

“You weren’t responding, you weren’t moving,” Bono says slowly. “It was scary, kid. I didn’t know what happened to you. We still don’t know why you crashed. If there was something wrong with the car it didn’t show on the data. I thought I’d missed something. A brake failure, a hydraulic leak, I thought it was… My fault.”

 

Kimi wonders how lucid he appears outwardly, because he’s fairly certain that Bono wouldn’t be saying half of this if he looked like he was in a state to remember this conversation. The fact that he’s not really replying probably doesn’t give him any reason to believe this is more than a brief wake window before he passes out again to resume resting and recovering.

 

“It’s my job to take care of you when you’re in the car, mate. I’m sorry I let you down.”

 

Bono reaches out for him, placing a hand on top of Kimi’s, and his fingers squeeze around his knuckles tightly.

 

“Sergi’ll be back soon. Your dad is out in the waiting room, I’ll give you some privacy once they’re here. I’ll call Toto, let him know you’re alright, get the word out to the team.”

 

“Thanks,” Kimi manages to mutter. 

 

There’s no more time for anything to be said as Sergi re-enters the room with Marco in tow, and his father quickly takes Bono’s place by his side. His focus falls entirely to the man cupping his cheeks and kissing the top of his head, tears in his eyes as he tries not to break down in front of him. If the tear tracks are anything to go by, Kimi assumes he’s cried enough already to be able to hold it in for now. 

 

It’s nice to have some time with just his father by his side. Even if the crash might’ve looked like his fault from the outside, he’s glad that the concern for his wellbeing trumps any disappointment he might’ve caused after a poor race and a trip into the barriers. Maybe that’s the strategy. If he’s going to do terribly, he just needs to make sure he scares his poor father enough that it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he wakes up. 

 

Once Sergi and Bono have both left the room, Marco is holding his phone close to his face so he can speak to his mother and sister. He does his best to smile for them, to be engaged with the conversation, to play down the impact of his impact as much as he possibly can. His mother is just as tearful as his father - though she’s not trying as hard to hide her tears - but Maggie is the one he’s really worried about.

 

He remembers how sad she was after his crash in Monza last year, and he’d walked away from that. He doesn’t want to think about how much it would’ve frightened her to see him stretchered into a helicopter and flown to hospital for treatment. 

 

“When we come to see you, I want you to have Bombo,” she tells him with a sniffle. “She keeps me safe.”

 

“Ah, tesoro, you need her more than I do,” Kimi encourages her with his brave big brother mask firmly applied.

 

Maggie, though, disagrees. She shakes her head firmly.

 

“Bombo will make sure you don’t die,” she whispers. “I don’t want you to die.”

 

There are few words more heart breaking to hear from a ten year old girl. Kimi wishes she didn’t have to see that, but he can hardly travel back in time to turn off the TV or check his balaclava before the race. The call comes to an end shortly after and Marco stays in the room until Sergi returns, at which point the two gentlemen switch roles as Marco leaves to speak to a doctor about being discharged and the care he needs over the next few days. It means that Kimi finally gets the time alone with Sergi that he’s been waiting for.

 

“I know what happened, mate,” Sergi says before Kimi has the chance to say anything.

 

Not for a lack of trying, but after his shunt with the barriers he’s taking things a little more slowly than he normally would. His body feels tender, but so does his brain.

 

“Eh?” He hums, closing his eyes against the harsh bright light of the hospital room he’s in. 

 

“Pedro told me,” Sergi continues to explain. “I went to your room to fetch your things for when you woke up - I figured you’d want your phone at least. Your watch was on the side, and Pedro was messaging constantly. He said that someone had interfered with your balaclava.”

 

“Seb’s not here this weekend,” Kimi whispers in protest. 

 

“Which means you’re either wrong about who the Hornet is, or there’s someone else.”

“There’s someone else,” he confirms. “Saw him in Montreal.”

 

The sigh that Sergi lets out is heavy, and even with a concussion Kimi can figure out what that means. If he wasn’t injured, he gets the feeling that this is where there’d be a fairly stern conversation about not hiding important information. Sergi would remind him that they’re a team, that they’re supposed to be in this together, and that he can’t protect him if he doesn’t know what dangers he’s facing.

 

But, thankfully, a concussion is a get out of jail free card for difficult conversations. Sergi instead, he assumes, files it for a later discussion. Before he can change the topic entirely, Kimi slips in one quick compliment to try and lessen whatever annoyance he might be feeling. 

 

“You should be a superhero too,” he suggests.

 

“Taking care of you sometimes makes me feel like I already am one,” Sergi assures him, and Kimi leans into the feeling of Sergi’s hand ruffling the curls on his head. “The race is over. Max won, George second, Oscar third. Your crash ruined Lando’s strategy.”

 

“Oops,” Kimi laughs softly.

 

He doesn’t know if it’s funny, or if the pain medicine he’s likely been given is finally starting to kick in and he’s feeling the effects of it at long last. Either way, it doesn’t matter all that much because the conversation topic changes once again (and Kimi’s head spins with the speed that everything keeps switching). A phone is being pressed into his hands. 

 

“I wouldn’t normally encourage using your phone when you’ve got a concussion,” he starts. “But if you don’t text Ollie, I’m going to get another phone call. Tell him you’re okay, before he works himself into such a state that he ends up in the next room.”

 

Kimi hums, he doesn’t quite have enough faith in his current state to risk nodding his head, and he opens up his phone to what must be the most notifications he’s ever received. More, even, than when he was announced as a full time Formula 1 driver. It’s good to know that his potential demise has concerned enough people to overwhelm his phone. Social media, text, WhatsApp, email - everything is maxed out. He’s grateful for the steer from his trainer to just focus on texting Ollie, and after managing to type out a very brief text to confirm he’s okay he swipes the rest of the notifications away. Mercedes will put out a statement to say that he’s fine, and that will serve as a ‘reply all’ as far as he’s concerned.

 

“Just focus on resting now,” Sergi tells him - as if he’s in any state to refuse. “Nothing’s broken, and the concussion isn’t as bad as last year. You should be fine to race next weekend, but we’ll take it easy.”

 

“Thanks, mate,” Kimi says, putting his phone to one side and sinking back into bed with a sigh.

 

“They want you to stay overnight,” Sergi continues. “Toto will be visiting later, he’s insisting on it. Your father will stay here tonight, and I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”

 

“That’s fine,” Kimi mutters, eyes already closed. 

 

Sleep is just too alluring of an activity for him to avoid for much longer, and Sergi can sense that too. He hears the door to the room click as it’s opened and shut in quick succession, leaving Kimi able to drift back off to sleep. This time, unconsciousness finds him in a much more peaceful and willing manner. And, if he does say so himself, a pillow and a blanket makes being unconscious an awful lot more comfortable than a gravel trap and a tyre barrier does.

Notes:

me in march: nothing's really going to happen in spain, canada, or austria! i can just make this a 3 race chapter no problem!
me now: why is it 22 thousand words

anyway... that was a fun chapter wasn't it? lots to think about heading into silverstone, which definitely is going to be sooooo chill and soooo low stakes, no one needs to worry about it!

to distract you from everything, let me introduce you to kimi's new bff and crime fighting accomplice - pedro the spider. i love pedro the spider. i would die for pedro the spider. and for the fabulous erphy, who made art so cute i cried. please go check them out on tumblr and show some love!!

art by erphy

as always, i would love to hear what you guys are thinking about the story so far. your comments, kudos, and tumblr asks make sharing this story so much more fun! please let me know what you're enjoying, and if you have any theories for how things escalate from here... :3

Chapter 7: Issue 7: Spidernapped!

Notes:

Hello guys! This chapter gets pretty gory and dark at one point. I've highlighted the worst section by adding a bolded line when it starts, and a bolded line when it ends, so you can easily jump over the worst of it. I'll provide a TLDR at the end of you didn't read that section. Have fun :)

Silverstone, United Kingdom
Thursday 03 July 2025

 

Kimi is dying.

 

Everything is in chaos. The Hornet is bearing down on him, the Swarm flying high above. His attention is pulled in every direction, by explosions to his left and by screams to his right. Gas is showering down on the crowd around him. He’s covered in blood and in sweat, his leg was injured in the crash and he can’t get out of the car. Kimi’s breathing is fast and shallow, he’s light-headed and finds himself spinning on the heels of his feet, even though he’s still trapped in the car. He looks around at everything happening and feels utterly helpless. 

 

He’s back in the car, the marshals trying to pull him out are gone, his mouth tastes of iron and his breathing has become wet. Every intake of air leaves him spluttering and coughing, hacking up blood and phlegm as his broken ribs are rattled. The crash was devastating, he’s surprised the speed he carried into the tyres wasn’t enough on its own to kill him. 

 

Kimi isn’t sure why he wasn’t wearing his helmet, but he knows - right now - that the sun above him is harsh and hot and bright. With the concussion he’s sustained, it becomes even more difficult to make out anything beyond shapes and shadows. 

 

He tries, weakly, to push himself out of the cockpit of his car, but even the adrenaline pumping through his veins isn’t enough to keep him going. Being a superhero isn’t enough to keep him going. The thought of surviving isn’t enough to keep him going. No, Kimi Antonelli is going to die alone, afraid, and in excruciating pain.

 

When the Hornet leans over him, he’s clear and well defined. His concussed brain has no trouble in working out what he looks like. His body blocks out the sun and casts a dark shadow over Kimi, who whimpers pathetically as he stares up at him.

 

“You really thought you could beat me?” He gloats.

 

Kimi sobs. Death… It’s not something he’s given too much consideration. Even after almost drowning, he’s thought of himself as borderline invincible. Nothing has ever killed him before, no matter how hard it’s tried. 

 

“Maggie,” he coughs - talking is hard. “Where is she?”

 

He sounds weak, and broken, and his voice oozes with fear. It’s the antithesis of the Hornet, who’s staring at him with crazed white eyes. His mask is more open than before, and Kimi can see his sharp incisors filling out a toothy grin. 

 

“My little Bumblebee,” he says fondly, extending each word to speak slowly. “She’ll be right at home with the rest of the Swarm.”

 

There’s nothing Kimi can do to wriggle away as gloved hands find his hair, the Hornet’s fingers pulling as they brush through his curls. Kimi’s going to die and his poor sister is going to slip into the arms of a supervillain. He’s let the world down, sure, but Maggie is so much more important than the world. She’s his sister, and the Hornet is going to have her. He sobs once more, despite the pain that it causes.

 

And then there’s a sharp movement. Then darkness. Then a bright, blinding light.

 

Kimi pants, desperate to get as much oxygen into his lungs as humanly possible. His whole body feels wrong and distant, and the world around him is spinning. After blinking enough times that his surroundings start to take shape, Kimi starts to turn his head to try and determine what those fully formed surroundings are. He doesn’t recognise anything at first, fear still the driving force behind his futile attempts to understand the world. But when his breathing starts to even out, and he can piece together a couple of clues, things start to make more sense and slot into their proper place.

 

The room is relatively small and furnished without anything specific. Vague canvas prints that could trick him into believing he’s staying in a chain hotel - something that is true more often than not. The room is bright, despite it still being a relatively early hour, because it’s the middle of summer in the south of England and the window in Kimi’s room faces the east. Sunlight streaks in through the gaps in the blinds, reaching out and highlighting the chest of drawers, the wardrobe, the towel hanging on the back of the door and the stack of old notebooks in the corner.

 

Kimi, of course, isn’t dying trackside in Austria. Instead he’s in bed, in the spare room of Toto’s country home, with the thin sheets he’d slept under tangled around his legs and pooled at his waist. He’s covered in a thick veil of sweat, and it’s impossible to tell how much of that is because of his nightmare and how much of it is because of the intense heatwave gripping the country. The room is stuffy and humid, and Kimi only really becomes aware of how wet he is as he properly calms down.

 

Unsurprisingly, he can hear life on the other side of the door. Toto encourages Jack to finish his toast so they can go to school, Susie reminds Toto that the young boy needs his PE kit, and Kimi finds himself gently reassured that his nightmare is going to remain a nightmare. A thing of the past. He’s safe with his second family. The Hornet, and his new friend, are nowhere to be seen.

 

Eventually the house stills as Toto and Jack make it out on time and Susie is less rushed off her feet with parenthood. There’s a gentle knock against Kimi’s door, her voice softly informing him that it’s safe to come out to shower and get some breakfast when he’s ready, but other than that he’s left alone. He twists his body, swings his legs off the side of the bed, and gets up to start his day by snatching his towel and heading from the spare bedroom to the bathroom.

 

Kimi’s been staying with the Wolff family since he was discharged from hospital at the start of the week. Rather than travel between Austria and Italy, then Italy and England, they decided it would be far less disruptive to just head straight to England and rest as much as he could there. And, despite sharing a house with an excitable child who’s been enthralled by his presence, it really has been restful. Despite having a nightmare just like that every night, sometimes several times a night, he feels refreshed. Being around his second family has helped him mentally and physically. 

 

When he locks the bathroom door behind himself, he shimmies out of his pyjama bottoms and throws the towel to one side for later. Kimi leans into the shower and turns it on, letting the water heat up for a few seconds whilst he takes several deep breaths and prepares himself for the next step: actually entering the shower.

 

He steps in with baited breath, keeping his back to the water stream and tilting his head to begin to wash his hair. There’s dozens of products available, and he opts for one of Susie’s floral scented shampoos. The bottle is pretty and pink, and he tries to focus on the images of blossoms and cherry trees as he runs his fingers through his hair and massages the shampoo into his scalp. He’s not really in a shower, there’s no water, he’s out in the open with more air then his lungs know what to do with! He has no reason to panic, there’s nothing that should leave him on edge, he’s fine. 

 

Still, he steps entirely out of the water after he’s rinsed his hair out, taking in some shaky breaths as he does.

 

It’s not quite the shampoo and conditioner combination that he’d like to have achieved for media day, but it’s the best he’s going to do. He quickly uses some body wash over the rest of him, then briefly steps back into the shower to rinse his body too. His fingers move cautiously over his bruised body, and he resists the temptation to press down against his aching pectoral muscles.

 

As soon as he can, he turns off the shower and climbs out, retrieving the towel from the floor and wrapping it hastily around his waist. 

 

Kimi catches his reflection in the fogged up mirror on the wall and stares at himself for longer than he’d really like to - mostly because the person looking back at him… They’re entirely unrecognisable. A lot of those changes were always going to come with stepping into a full-time Formula 1 seat, and even more were always going to come as his body navigated the closing stages of puberty. His neck is thicker than it was in March, there’s more stubble grazing his chin, and his face is paradise for acne. Beyond that, though, there’s dark circles under his eyes, there’s scars and cuts and bruises galore. He’s a mess, and it needs sorting before the media sees him in a few hours.

 

Whilst reaching out for one of Toto’s unused razors and some of his shaving cream, he acknowledges to himself that he should - maybe - talk about things with someone. But the question quickly becomes who, and it’s a lot harder to answer.

 

Sergi, really, is obvious, but nothing will change if he talks to him. Maybe he’ll go easier on him in training, assuming that he’s bringing it up because his body is broken and he needs more time to heal, but that’s not going to be useful when there’s still half a season to go. The idea of a therapist floats around from time to time, but he’d have to explain the whole superhero thing to them, and he’s not sure he can trust a complete stranger not to talk about something like that. Patient confidentiality is one thing, but a single mention that they’re talking to the Silver Spider would derail everything. 

 

Once his patchy peach fuzz has been discarded, Kimi looks at the sink in front of him. A good way to get rid of those spots would be to clean his face… The water’s still running. All he’d have to do is reach out, cup his hands together and…

 

No. He can’t. He turns the faucet off and goes back to the spare bedroom to dress.

 

He’s thankful the team hired a stylist for him, because it means he doesn’t have to pick. He just takes the bundle of clothes from his suitcase that have been labelled with a piece of paper tape, THURSDAY written in Sharpie, and dresses himself quietly. Once he’s decent he presses the sensor on the back of Pedro - who’s been sitting idly on his bedside table - waking him up for a short conversation as he finishes getting ready for the day. Right now, that means wrapping his watch around his wrist.

 

[PEDRO WISHES YOU A GOOD MORNING!]

 

“Morning to you too, mate,” he mutters. 

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER'S SLEEP WAS NOT OF OPTIMAL QUALITY!]

 

“You sound like Sergi,” he chuckles quietly, taking a look at his schedule for the day.

 

[PEDRO IS CONCERNED ABOUT THE SILVER SPIDER!]

 

And that… That sounds like everyone. From his mother, who’s calling him almost hourly, to his sister, who’s coloured in a hundred drawings for him. From Toto, who gives him anxious glances from across the dinner table, to Ollie who’s barely stopped texting him. 

 

Speaking of Ollie, Kimi reaches out for his phone where it’s been sitting charging overnight, and he turns it over to see several unopened messages waiting for him. He’d been Snapchatting Ollie well past his bedtime, and Sergi will have some stern words for him when he catches up with his trainer later today, but for now he just opens up those messages again… And turns bright red.

 

Just as the door to his room opens. 

 

Kimi turns on the spot to face Susie, blocking Pedro from view with his body, and he turns his phone off promptly so there’s no chance that he sees anything. He’s not sure what would be worse in this situation - Susie discovering he’s a superhero, or Susie seeing the messages he and Ollie were exchanging late last night.

 

“Breakfast is on the table when you’re ready,” she tells him, with a politeness to her tone that reassures him he hid everything in time. “Eat as much as you feel you can, then we’ll drive to the track together. You’ve got a reduced schedule today, we managed to trim the media down to just the necessities, said you’d need some more down time given your accident last week.”

 

“Thanks, Susie,” he says appreciatively.

 

“Are you sure you’re ready to race this weekend? There’d be no shame in taking some time off after a crash like that.”

He’s been told that time and time again, but Kimi is confident. Or maybe he’s stupid. He supposes to be a Formula 1 driver, it’s got to be at least a little bit of both.

 

“I’m sure, thank you.”

 

Susie takes that answer as she steps out of the room, and Kimi waits until the door is clicked shut before he sighs and looks back down at his watch.

 

[PEDRO REQUESTS THAT YOU DO NOT PUT YOURSELF IN DANGER!]

 

Kimi doesn’t know what kind of danger Pedro is worried about - whether it’s another crash, or the Hornet - but whether or not he ends up in danger doesn’t really seem to be in his control these days. 

 

“I’ll speak to the Hornet next time I see him, let him know about your request, eh?” He jokes. 

 

Pedro scuttles quickly across the bedside table in what Kimi has come to recognise as a concerned fashion, making the small jumps his mechanical body is capable of to ascend a pile of books and get a little more height to look him in the eye. To help, Kimi sits back down on the bed.

 

[PEDRO WILL KEEP WATCH! PEDRO WILL KEEP YOU SAFE!]

 

Kimi smiles a bit more at that. Beyond providing him with crucial information, he’s not really sure what the little robot is capable of. But he’s enthusiastic, and that’s the important part.

 

“Thanks, Pedro,” he says gratefully. “You can watch me when I sleep tonight, I’ve got to go to the track.”

 

[WILL YOU TAKE PEDRO?]

 

“Not this time, mate, it’s media day,” he explains. “I can’t let anyone see you, and there’s gonna be a lot of cameras. You can stay here. I won’t turn you off, you can just have some fun.”

 

[PEDRO IS NOT MADE FOR FUN! PEDRO IS HERE TO ASSIST YOU!]

 

“Eh,” Kimi grins. “It would assist me if you had fun.”

 

He’s been cheered up substantially by the little robot, and he leans over to place a finger under his body and scratch his stomach. Kimi knows he’s just metal parts, but in his head he’s more cat than spider now. He’s pretty sure, if they stayed like this for long enough, he could get Pedro to purr.

 

“See you later, Pedro,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Let me know if anything happens.”

 

[PEDRO WILL NOT LET YOU DOWN!]

 

Breakfast with Susie is a relatively quiet affair, and Kimi is perfectly happy with that. He has poached eggs and salmon, some chives for a bit of greenery, a nice herbal tea and a selection of fruits. They make only occasional conversation - when Susie asks if he’d like some toast, and when he checks what time they’re going to be leaving - but it’s a comfortable quiet. Just being around Susie is nice. Much like his own mother, she’s always been one degree removed from racing. Even with Susie’s personal involvement in the sport more than his mother’s, it’s far easier to keep work separate from her. He knows if something is wrong, on track or off, he can go to Toto, but he knows that nothing needs to be wrong to be worthy of a hug from Susie.

 

Kimi does the dishes to thank Susie for making their breakfast, and a few minutes later they join the late rush-hour traffic to head to the track.  

 

The radio plays softly in the background and Kimi’s eyes are on his phone as Susie takes the wheel, giving him a chance to catch up with the various group chats that he’s part of. The GPDA chat is mostly flagging where photographers have stationed themselves to get candid shots of unexpecting drivers, the rookie chat is (unsurprisingly) more chaotic. Gabriel has taken it upon himself to create memes of Ollie at every opportunity this weekend, declaring that his home race calls for such dedication. He laughs a bit, scrunching up his nose at some of the more creative memes he’s made, and he does his best to describe them to Susie who can only really look at the memes herself when they make it to utterly gridlocked traffic. 

 

She doesn’t laugh, just raises an eyebrow in confusion and politely nods as if she’s mildly amused.

 

As he turns his phone back to himself, a new notification appears at the top of his messages. 

 

[Dori] I know it’s you.

 

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races. He deliberately doesn’t click the message, so Doriane has no idea that he’s seen the message, and he turns his phone off for the remainder of the car ride to the track. It’s only when he gets out and waves a goodbye to Susie, who’s off in the opposite direction anyway, that he turns it back on to call her. Maybe he should wait until he’s in his driver room, but Kimi gives that option no consideration at all as he scans his pass to let himself in the paddock and ignores the dozen or so photographers that get snaps of his deeply focused expression.

 

The first call rings out. So does the second. But the third is answered.

 

“What did that mean?” He asks, before she can even get a greeting in.

 

“What happened to hello?” She accuses. 

 

“No, no hello, you don’t get a hello after a message like that,” Kimi tells her, gesturing with his free hand even if she can’t see. “What do you mean?”

 

“Why are you surprised?” She asks with a laugh.

 

This is not the time for laughing! This is serious! 

 

“What do you mean, why am I surprised?!”

 

“Are you not trying to be obvious?” Doriane asks him, and she sounds truly confused. “It’s just… The outfit is all our colours, no? And the fact that you keep disappearing. In Canada, we were all asleep… But you managed to run away. In Miami we were supposed to have a team dinner but you said you felt too sick even though you were fine all day. And then last weekend… The crash, eh? The onboard was weird!”

 

Kimi bites his nails, twisting his necklaces anxiously. This, really, is terrible news. 

 

“Are you still there?” Doriane asks.

 

“Si, yes, I’m… Fanculo,” he whispers. “You’re not… No one is supposed to know.”

 

“Ah, Kimi, you can trust me,” she encourages. “You owe me, though. A favour for keeping your secret sounds fair, right?”

 

Kimi groans inwardly.

 

“Was saving your life in Canada not enough?”

 

“You would’ve saved my life regardless,” Doriane says knowingly, and Kimi can hear her smiling. “I promise, it won’t be weird. I don’t even know what the favour is going to be yet. I just want one. Deal?”

 

Kimi makes it to his driver room, dropping his bag on the floor as he closes the door behind himself and slumps down onto a chair. What choice does he have? He’s sure Doriane won’t do anything bad with a favour, and even if he refuses he’s fairly certain she’s not the kind of person to use this knowledge against him. But it’s a risk he can mitigate if he just agrees to her terms.

 

“Fine,” he sighs. “One favour. But nothing illegal, okay?”

 

“You’re no fun,” Doriane complains.

 

It makes Kimi laugh weakly, like maybe this isn’t going to be such a bad idea. Of course, the more people that know who he is the more dangerous things become. Not just because of the threat of blackmail, but the threat that the Hornet and his new friend pose. What if they find out that Doriane knows? What could they do with that information? He needs to be an awful lot more careful, there’s no denying that.

 

“I have a race weekend to prepare for,” Doriane tells him. “But I think I’ll see you at the end of the month in Belgium. Maybe the favour will be to wait on me hand and foot as Toto’s guest.”

 

“I’ll see you in Belgium, Doriane,” he rolls his eyes.

 

The call ends, and he’s barely given a moment of respite before there’s a knock on the door. Kimi’s back on his feet and following Rosa through hospitality to the media pen. Even without the reduced duties that have been bargained for him, he’s not really that important this weekend. Beyond people wanting to know he’s okay after the crash, almost a quarter of the grid are British. Why would they want to talk to him during the Silverstone weekend when George, Ollie, Lewis, and Lando are all available? 

 

So Kimi’s in and out of the media pen quickly after some very simple questions (“is the car a good fit for the circuit?”, “how do you feel about the forecast this weekend?”, “how do you feel after your crash?”) and ends up walking with his trainer back to his driver room as he waits for George to be released from his own duties.

 

“You look like shit,” Sergi tells him bluntly.

 

Kimi chuckles. It would’ve been helpful to know that a few minutes ago, before the media, but he supposes Susie didn’t want to come across as too much of a mother and Rosa probably thought the battered and bruised angle would go some way to keeping the media off his back for the weekend. 

 

“I feel it,” he doesn’t bother lying. 

 

They make it back to hospitality and both shift the furniture around Kimi’s small room to create enough space for a small workout routine. Nothing too strenuous right now - he’s spent the last few days resting and needs to be eased back into things before he’s thrown in at the deep end - just Sergi tossing a trio of balls to Kimi and Kimi throwing them right back. Flawlessly.

 

“Do you feel capable of driving this weekend?” Sergi asks him seriously. “Valtteri and Fred are both here if you need more time.”

 

“I’m capable,” he maintains. “You were at the hospital with me, eh? You know it’s just bruising.”

 

“It’s not the physical injury that I’m worried about, mate,” Sergi says.

 

Kimi doesn’t respond to that, and their impromptu training session continues. He’s handed a skipping rope next and gets the implicit message, starting to jump in place as he twirls the rope around. Really, this is the perfect opportunity to talk about… Everything. Anything. He could tell Sergi about his nightmares, or his panic attacks, or the fact that more and more people are starting to learn about him. Telling him, though, feels like the wrong thing to do. He might be eighteen, but he’s the one with the superpowers. He’s the one that’s meant to protect people instead of burdening them with his own mental load. 

 

So Kimi says nothing, and he skips in silence.

 

Silence that is only broken by the sound of screaming.

 

Kimi practically drops the skipping rope, almost tangling it around his ankles and tripping himself up as they both jerk their heads in the direction of the sound. It’s coming from the track rather than hospitality, and Kimi feels sick to his stomach. On a day like today, a scream from the track could usually be put down to the appearance of a driver going to greet the crowd, throwing shirts or hats over the fence to their adoring fans, but that’s not the kind of scream that accompanies Lewis or Ollie whenever they appear. Rather, it’s the kind of scream that means that something very bad is happening, and that’s a scream that Kimi’s become rather accustomed to hearing at this point.

 

Of course, this isn’t why he feels sick. What makes him feel sick is the fact that he feels… Nothing. No tingling, no twitch, nothing. 

 

Kimi grabs his bag, pulling out his suit and stripping down from his clothes as quickly as he can. His shirt is flung over Sergi’s face, his shorts left in a heap on the floor, and as he steps into the suit he finds himself utterly relieved at the cool feeling of the fabric against his skin. This might be a terrible situation, but at least he’s not going to swelter in the British summertime anymore. He regrets leaving Pedro at home as he pulls his mask over his face and steps into his boots, but he’s got no time to think about what he could’ve and should’ve done differently right now. Instead he’s just got to run and swing in the direction of panic and hysteria, unable to rely on his gut instincts to take him towards the danger because he doesn’t have any gut instincts.

 

What is going on? And how could the Hornet have possibly found a way to evade his senses?!

 

Answers to both questions are presented to Kimi as he cuts his web and tucks into a roll along the Hamilton Straight. The problem is staring him down, and in the blink of an eye Kimi goes from downright terrified to dreadfully amused. 

 

Wow, George really is starting to have an effect on him.

 

In the grandstands, the crowd remain terrified, but ease washes over Kimi in calming waves as he begins to understand the reality of the situation. His heartbeat returns to normal, and it takes everything in his power to not laugh and bring a gloved palm to his face as he groans at the stupidity of his colleagues.

 

Ollie is standing with his arms behind his back, badly tied together at the wrists with some cables that Haas will definitely want returned when this stunt reaches its conclusion. He’s doing a frankly terrible job of looking afraid, so bad that he’s not even sure it’s part of his brief. He’s biting back a smile, even as a supposed supervillain has a hand on his shoulder so he can’t get away. And that supposed supervillain is none other than Esteban Ocon, wearing a handmade get up - plain black fireproofs, bits of cardboard and carbon fibre jerry rigged to make it look as if he’s got an intimidating silhouette. It’s enough to work on the crowd, but from up close Kimi can see just how dreadful it all is.

 

And if that alone wasn’t enough to figure out the truth of what was happening, then the fact that there are a few terribly disguised members of the Haas social team taking videos and photos sitting in the grandstands entirely unpanicked really puts the nail in the coffin.

 

Kimi sighs as he steps forward, approaching the duo with a much more relaxed gait than he’d expected a few moments ago. He’s practically got a spring in his step, bouncing along towards Esteban with a grin behind his mask.

 

“So, do you want to let Ollie go, or do you want to fight?” Kimi asks, because Haas’ social team have (obviously) not run this by him and he doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting Esteban.

 

But if they’re looking for a fight for their social channels, he doesn’t want to let them down.

 

“Oh my goodness, oh my God!” Esteban practically squeals.

 

Behind his makeshift mask his eyes light up and his smile widens to the width of his face. He’s staring at him with stars in his eyes, and as unusual as the situation is Kimi will admit that it’s a little endearing. Being a superhero, he usually only shows up at a bad time. Aside from his practice in Miami, where he’d saved that dog, everything he’s done to save and protect people has been overshadowed by the fact that they needed saving and protecting in the first place. This time, there’s no one to fight, there’s no danger, and his presence is a good thing.

 

Ollie is unhanded immediately, and Esteban races forwards to offer his hand to shake. Kimi takes it in amusement, watching the whole situation unfold with a weight taken off his shoulders.

 

“I can’t believe you’re really here! Can I get a selfie? An autograph? Oh, maybe you can trap me in some web for kidnapping Ollie!” He gasps excitedly.

 

Wanting to keep up this streak of people being happy to see him, Kimi delights Esteban by giving him exactly what he’s asked for. Whilst their hands are still joined, still shaking, he shoots out just a little bit of web to wrap around Esteban’s hand. He stares at it in wonder, jaw wide open, and Kimi wonders if he’s about to cry tears of joy. There are very few people that would be so excited to be in this position, but of all the people in the world Kimi isn’t even remotely surprised that it’s Esteban. 

 

He releases him after a moment, letting the driver stare at the web that’s lingered on his hand with utter adoration, whilst Ollie is turning around to motion for members of the social team to approach. Esteban takes off his mask now that they’ve gotten their natural photos, and Kimi is flanked on either side as the two men position themselves to take photographs with him. There’s nowhere he can go to avoid this, so he’s left letting it happen and imagining Sergi and Toto watching on with their heads in their hands. He just knows that these photographs are going to be under intense scrutiny from the moment they’re released, with the entire Internet trying to pinpoint who the Silver Spider could be based on his height difference with Ollie and Esteban. 

 

At least there’s a bit of cushioning in his boots to throw them off the scent a little bit?

 

And as bad as this situation is for trying to keep his identity hidden, it has to be an overall better outcome than if drivers and fans were actually in danger. 

 

He puts his arms around Ollie and Esteban’s shoulders, posing for a few more photos, trying to give equal attention to both men. If he doesn’t hold Esteban as tightly as he holds Ollie, then the two will almost certainly bring it up in a team debrief later, and Ollie will become a recluse once again. Their Snapchat streak will evaporate overnight and he’s only just gotten it back to where it used to be!

 

His wrist starts to tingle.

 

The sensation hits him like a train, and Kimi reacts so instinctively that he hasn’t even stopped posing by the time he’s turning around to assess the situation. It’s happened so suddenly that the social team are still snapping photos, shouting at him to go back to posing, complaining that he’s ruining their shots. He’s got a several second warning of what’s about to happen that the rest of the world doesn’t, and he’s determined to use it as best he can to protect people.

 

“Run,” he says firmly to Ollie and Esteban. “Get back inside the paddock, be safe.” 

 

Despite his instructions, the message hasn’t gotten through to them. It hasn’t gotten through to the social team either, who are trying to get his attention as they keep taking photos and videos of the moment unfolding. It’s endlessly frustrating how little Kimi is listened to. For some reason, he still likes to believe the suit will give his words some weight. He likes to think he seems like enough of an authority in situations like this that people will take him seriously.

 

But no one does anything until the Hornet himself makes an appearance, flying in from the sky and landing on the tarmac, spreading his arms and walking towards Kimi with a grin so large he can see it in his eyes.

 

“Incy Wincy,” he says as his wings flutter to a halt. “How are you feeling? You had a nasty crash last weekend!”

 

“Come to do what your glamorous assistant couldn’t?” He retaliates.

 

It’s becoming a routine, the opening quips as they eye each other up and prepare to engage. They both assess each other, take a moment to survey their opponent for anything new they might have at their disposal, consider their footing and pick their strategy accordingly. But today, Kimi feels cocky and confident. The interaction with Esteban has gone to his head - the fact that someone is glad to see him makes him feel good. Then there’s the fact that his friends are standing behind him. As long as he’s alive, he’ll never let the Hornet win, but that’s even more important when the difference between winning and losing means keeping the people he loves the most safe. And Ollie… Ollie is pretty high up on the people he loves the most list. The fact that the Hornet (and his assistant) tried (and failed) to kill him a week ago has given him an extra boost of confidence as well.

 

Because of all this, Kimi is the one to initiate the fight, with less due diligence done toward his opponent than usual. 

 

He opens, shooting his web up to the overhang and using it to swing himself towards the Hornet, boots first as he aims to deliver a powerful blow. But the blow never comes, the Hornet having learned his lesson from Monaco and dodging swiftly in response. Kimi growls behind his mask in annoyance, but he doesn’t let it get the best of him, not when he already seems to have a natural advantage compared to the villain. For once, the Hornet isn’t accompanied by his swarm, and rather than asking ‘why not?’ he elects to just focus on the fight. This is a good thing, he doesn’t need to question why the universe is showing him some kind of kindness for once! He nearly died last weekend, he’s allowed a break!

 

Kimi turns back to face the Hornet, another opportunity to strike, but he finds himself greatly outgunned.

 

The Hornet is standing tall, his shoulders back and his legs straight and strong. In his hands, he wields what looks like a sword. It’s long, slightly curved, and a rich amber colour. The Hornet holds it from its thick metal hilt, gloved thumbs moving back and forth over the intricate little details. Kimi is forced to hold his position, wasting precious seconds he doesn’t have to recalculate his attack in the face of a new danger. And that goes predictably, with the Hornet taking advantage of this and striding towards Kimi quickly. He raises the weapon over his head, and Kimi’s eyes widen behind his mask as it’s brought down towards him.

 

Kimi rolls, tucking his knees close to his chest, narrowly avoiding the sword as it hits the tarmac beside him. The noise is louder than he expected it to be, and despite looking so fragile the weapon stays perfectly intact. Of course it does - the Hornet wouldn’t bring something to a battle if he didn’t think it would be useful - and Kimi rounds up his thoughts to keep himself from getting distracted. The Hornet is gearing up to make a second attempt, and he needs to focus on ducking beneath a horizontal blow before he’s doing his best to crawl away.

 

Despite it being the hottest day of the year so far, there’s some kind of liquid on the tarmac where the sword just hit.

 

Kimi doesn’t have the time to hesitate and analyse what it could possibly be - whether it’s the serum from Canada or something else entirely - he has to focus instead on getting back to his feet and getting away. At least the people around him have had the sense to run now. The track has cleared and the grandstands are emptying at a rate of knots as a fearful cacophony fills the air. Whatever power he likes to think he has to keep these people safe, it’s clear that the only real motivator is fear. Fear is the only thing driving them to run now. As frustrating as it is, Kimi can’t blame them, this new weapon is terrifying him as much as it is them - though he’ll process that fear later, in private, and then he’ll bottle it up and forget about it for months.

 

He does, however, need to talk to Toto about getting some kind of weapon. Every time he thinks he’s got a grasp on what the Hornet can do, he shows up with something new. 

 

As Kimi tries to get to his feet, he stumbles. The Hornet takes him down easily whilst he’s overthinking, sticking his leg out and tripping him embarrassingly easily. It should be humiliating, but there’s no time for that emotion to blossom. He rolls over onto his back, in just enough time for the Hornet to sink down and straddle his hips - a compromising position that he’s found himself in more times than he would’ve liked over the past few weeks.

 

The Hornet is giddy, eyes wild and gleeful behind his mask. It’s like something’s happened to him to change everything. His principles are still there, but not like they used to be. The climate is something he shoehorns in to make it seem like he’s still an activist, but in moments like these Kimi can see that the rational part of his brain is long gone. Back in Monaco, he still believed he could reason with the Hornet. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to talk to Sebastian, not the Hornet, and pull him back from the path he was embarking on. But any hope of resolving this through dialogue has faded as the Hornet has become more and more set on violence and destruction, the pursuit of power now his motivator. There’s no compassion left in those eyes.

 

Kimi’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he inhales, and he forces himself to focus. The Hornet is lowering himself over his torso, holding his sword with the tip in his left hand and the hilt in his right. With every inch his body grows closer to Kimi’s, the sword moves closer and closer to his throat. Kimi can’t escape from this, not without knowing what it is the sword is going to do. One wrong move and it could be game over. He could be dead, or worse. 

 

If there’s anything in the world worse than dying, he’s confident the Hornet will find it and attempt to do it to him.

 

Something thick and sticky drips from the edge of the amber blade. The drop lands on his chest, before the contours of his body send it running over the side of him and onto the ground. Every second inches into an eternity as the Hornet moves more and more slowly. He’s teasing him, torturing him, and Kimi feels helpless to stop him.

 

“You know, little spider,” he whispers, so low that Kimi knows he’s the only one that can hear it - not that anyone else is around to hear it anymore. “I think we could become good friends.”

 

“Eh?!” Kimi scoffs, choking on the exclamation. “Friends?! You’ve tried to kill people!”

 

“Don’t you ever want that?” The Hornet asks him, voice almost sing-song as he tilts his head and moves the blade steadily closer to Kimi’s neck.

 

“To kill people?!” Kimi asks. “You’re insane! No, I don’t want to kill anyone. Sebastian, please, I know you’re still in there,” he begs, keeping his voice quiet.

 

But regardless of how quiet he is, they’re clearly the wrong words to say. The last ditch attempt of diplomacy and negotiation changes the look in the Hornet’s eyes. His stare is darker than before, more malevolent and determined than Kimi’s ever seen. His heart beats even faster in his chest, so hard that the sound of his blood pumping deafens him to the rest of the world. He feels dizzy, desperately light-headed as his breath comes in short, quick bursts.

 

“Please–” He squeaks out fearfully as the blade finally comes to rest against his neck.

 

All that stands between it and his skin is his suit. His new suit seems to be made of a much higher quality, the pincers of the Hornet’s mask a considerable amount less intimidating than before, and he takes some solace in that. Kimi, despite mainstream reporting, isn’t stupid, and he knows that if Ollie could figure out how to push his mask up over his mouth to kiss him then the Hornet can do exactly the same. Though as his thumb teases at the separating pieces of material, he has a sneaking suspicion that the Hornet isn’t going to kiss him. He does, however, push the mask up to reveal a chink of pale skin on his neck. It isn’t much at all, but it doesn’t need to be much. 

 

Kimi’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he braces. But that’s the wrong move - flinching just exposes more of himself to the villain. Not that the Hornet needs more of his skin. He moves the blade nimbly and quickly, and the injury that Kimi sustains to his neck is almost imperceptible. There’s a little blood, sure, but nothing important has been severed. For a moment, he finds himself in utter disbelief that the Hornet is confidently getting back to his feet with so little damage wrought. Kimi just has to push himself back up and he’ll be able to keep fighting, easy!

 

But when he goes to do just that, his arms barely allow him to push himself halfway up before they become exceedingly heavy and he falls right back down. Another attempt to sit up comes with no visible success at all. His muscles in not just his arms, but his body more widely, have gone lame. Everything about him just feels weak, and wrong, and there’s nothing Kimi can do as his suit begins to go haywire. The Hornet cackles as alerts and warnings blare about his bodily functions slowing down - warnings that he hardly needs. His legs are already like lead, and the quick breaths that were so easy to inhale just moments ago are suddenly taking all of his energy. And then comes the pain, increasing in intensity quickly. It’s blinding, or maybe that’s just a side effect of whatever has gotten into his blood. It feels electric. 

 

Kimi stares up and looks at the sky, peering around the warnings in front of his eyes as he tries to calm himself down. Whatever is happening to him, it’s terrifying enough without his suit telling him that he’s dying.

 

But the sky starts to disappear as his vision starts to fade away, his body feeling progressively weaker with every passing second. All Kimi can do is try his best to keep breathing and listen to his surroundings. There’s the laughter of the Hornet, the panic of the few people still trying to escape from the grandstands as they realise what’s happening, the shouts of people in the paddock worried for the Silver Spider… But above all else, his ears pick up the sound of one man.

 

“Kimi!”

 

Sergi’s voice rings true through it all, and even though he sounds distant - far enough away that it could be easily construed his trainer is simply worried that his driver might have been caught up in the altercation - it soothes his nerves. One of the only people that knows his true identity is close enough to see what’s happening, and maybe that means that someone will be able to help. Whatever happens next, the Hornet won’t get away with what he’s done.

 

He’s not sure right now if that means he’s going to be saved or avenged, but as the world fades into darkness he’s at peace.

 

+ + +

 

????????, ?????? ???????
?????? ?? ???? ????

 

The place that Kimi inhabits, right now, can’t be called a world. A world implies structure, implies light, implies life and time and substance. Wherever Kimi is, it’s not a world. It’s barely a plane of existence. His senses, if he has them any more, are muffled. His body, if he has one anymore, might be sitting upright, or dangling from the ceiling, or cut into three chunks and thrown across different pocket universes to float around in the depths of space for all eternity.

 

He blinks, what he thinks is a blink anyway, but with the all encompassing darkness around him there’s no real way to assess whether or not he ever closed his eyes at all. Maybe they’ve never been closed. Maybe what feels like seconds has actually been weeks, or months, or longer. His perception of everything is warped beyond all possibilities. Is this what Schrodinger's Cat felt like? Alone in its box, dead and alive all at once to the world and unable to differentiate on its own accord? 

 

Schrödinger's Spider is certainly a lot less catchy.

 

A sensation creeps up on him slowly, and then all at once. His body aches, he feels heavy, and despite the discomfort from his fingers to his toes he takes it as a good sign. If his body aches, then his body is there. This is progress.

 

Without knowing where he is, what could be happening to him, who could be observing him and what could be done to him if he makes a wrong move, assessing just how bad of a state he’s in is difficult. He can’t do anything too obvious to check if his limbs are functioning properly, so he runs through a mental checklist (and celebrates that he still has the cognitive ability to have a mental checklist). He twitches his toes - check. He flexes the knuckles of his fingers - check. He rolls his shoulders - check. He lets his head move from side to side - check. 

 

There are no immediate alarm bells - either in his head or out in the open - which is a pro. A huge win for the pro column, actually! A con column however… 

 

He’s not wearing his suit. Of course, he doesn’t have the ability to see right now. He could be very wrong! But if he was wearing his suit, he’d wager he’d be able to see an awful lot more. And, realistically, if the last time he was capable of forming thoughts of his own he was stuck with the Hornet, then it stands to reason that he’s still with the Hornet. The Hornet, following that same logic, would want him to be as weak as possible. Taking his suit off him just makes sense. If he was the Hornet, he’d do the exact same thing.

 

So he works on the assumption that he has no suit, and that makes him more vulnerable than usual. There’s nothing to shield him from the elements around him, and there’s nothing to defend him against whatever the Hornet might have planned for him. He has no choice but to rely on his wit and charm to get him out of whatever that danger turns out to be…

 

If he was trapped in a pit of journalists, he’d be alright. He could smile, and wink, and feed them the PR trained answers until he was in the clear, but this… This is the Hornet’s territory. Even if Kimi is alone right now, he’s still in danger.

 

Kimi breathes in, slowly. He breathes out, slowly.

 

There are animals, in the wild, that live for hundreds and thousands of years. He wonders what life might feel like for them. Do they know that a breath takes a day? Do they recognise when they sleep for months? Does living feel like pushing through primordial sludge, or does it just feel… Normal? 

 

He counts each breath, for what it’s worth. It’s the only way to determine the passage of time, even if he doesn’t know how much time a breath represents right now. At least he can say, with certainty, that he is breathing and that time is passing. 

 

Kimi takes ten breaths.

 

He takes a hundred breaths.

 

He takes one thousand, two hundred, and sixty three breaths.

 

The counting is the only thing that anchors Kimi to reality, keeping him from drifting off into the deep, dark expanse of nothingness. But such an existence comes to an abrupt halt as a sudden illumination gives birth to his surroundings. The sudden light dazzles him, and Kimi’s counting ceases as he blinks his eyes shut and tries to adjust his vision. It’s not a gentle light, it’s harsh and bright and it makes his eyes sting painfully. Blinking can only do so much, it can’t keep him from tearing up in his body’s desperate attempt to take care of itself. The white LEDs burn his retinas wherever he looks, and if he’s completely honest with himself the darkness was preferable.

 

But with light comes information, and as Kimi’s vision coalesces into something useful he can start to observe the world around him and reach a conclusion about the situation he’s in.

 

He’s dressed in a simple white t-shirt and some baggy black shorts, the Hornet at least a decent enough villain to preserve his modesty. He’s on a table that’s at a slight angle, head elevated at one end, with thick straps around his body at every opportunity to hold him in place: his wrists, his elbows, his ankles, his thighs, his stomach, his forehead… Everything is attached somehow. Maybe he’s woken up before and put up a fight, but it goes a long way to tell him how the Hornet views him. He’s an actual threat, that feels good. 

 

Nothing else feels good, though. The room is white and sterile, there’s no windows or calendars or clocks to ascertain how long he’s been wherever he is, and there’s nothing to tell him where that wherever is. 

 

Without anything else to examine and analyse, Kimi goes back to counting his breaths. He starts from zero again. One, ten, eighty seven.

 

The seamless white void around him is broken when a door bursts open, the Hornet marking his arrival with as much noise as he can. After the silence of being in his own little bubble, it’s enough to make him wince. And the Hornet isn’t alone, his friend from Canada has returned. He, in a way, is even worse than the Hornet, because his suit shimmers and the LEDs reflect from the metal in a way that’s damn near torturous. He’s forced to avert his gaze before he can really take an opportunity to process what he looks like, and that leaves him to consider a world of questions without anything to provide answers.

 

Whilst the Hornet’s entrance is grand and commands attention, the shimmering stranger follows him obediently with a trolley that wouldn’t look out of place in a hospital or a school canteen. But its contents, regrettably, lean more towards hospital. Rather than a restock of blueberry muffins and fruit pots, there’s a half dozen small, sharp, surgical tools resting on cloth. He’s not sure if the presence of a syringe and a small vial of liquid is more or less intimidating than the tools. 

 

What he does know is that just seeing the items on the trolley is enough to make him far more pliant than he ordinarily would be. 

 

“You’re awake,” the Hornet says simply.

 

It’s a shock, how plain the words are. Kimi was expecting, after his boisterous entrance, that he’d do nothing but gloat and mock him. He’d be smug about the fact that all it took to abduct Kimi, after everything, was to just trip him up. Rather than do that, though, he gestures for the shimmering stranger to bring him something, and a moment later a stool is being provided from behind Kimi’s sight. The Hornet sits down silently, his feet pushing the stool along the ground as he scoots closer to him, and he begins his work.

 

The Hornet removes the strap from his right wrist, and reattaches it an inch further along his arm. It gives Kimi the ability to move his hand, so he does, not waiting for permission. Whatever is going to happen to him, it’s already going to be bad, he doubts daring to twist his hand back and forth and wiggle his fingers is going to result in anything substantially worse being threatened. As he rejoices in his momentary freedom, the Hornet tightens the straps further up his arm to make a point. The tension relieved by flexing his wrist is immediately restored to his body.

 

Bastard.

 

“So, Andrea,” the Hornet begins.

 

Kimi wasn’t aware they were operating on a first-name basis now, but he supposes that he did start that.

 

“Did you consider my offer?”

 

He doesn’t answer. Both because he’s not going to answer if he doesn’t have to, and because he doesn’t recall any kind of offer being made. He doubts the Hornet was serious earlier when he asked if he wanted to be friends, so he can only assume this isn’t the first time he’s woken up - and this isn’t the first conversation they’ve had.

 

“We could team up,” the Hornet continues, taking Kimi by surprise. “Be friends. Wouldn’t that be fun? Aren’t you tempted? The power we would hold together…” The Hornet exhales shakily, staring dreamily at the ceiling. “We would be unstoppable.” 

 

“I don’t care about power,” Kimi replies.

 

It’s the truth. He cares about racing, about his friends and family, about Ollie. The only time power crosses his mind is when people gawk at him when he’s telling them to run. 

 

“Besides,” he adds bravely. “You don’t have any power, eh? You keep getting beaten by a teenager.”

 

The goading might not have been the right decision, he realises, as the Hornet leans over him. Their faces are close, and Kimi can see the bloodshot whites of his eyes as he stares down madly.

 

“I’m not the one strapped to a table.”

 

Alright. One-one. Kimi won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, though, and the Hornet sits back on his stool as he begins to work.

 

The Hornet takes Kimi’s right hand in his own gloved one, and he forces his fingers to move back and forth. Kimi does everything in his power to hold them still, but there’s only so much he can do when the Hornet pinches a finger and pushes and pulls at the knuckles. He repeats this at each joint, on each finger, and Kimi is reminded of when Sergi had sat with him in Bahrain and tried to…

 

To figure out how his powers worked.

 

Kimi gulps down that realisation as his wrist is rotated and his palm faces the ceiling. The Hornet traces his fingers over the lines and creases that criss-cross his skin, the scar tissue that’s covered the countless injuries he’s sustained. A shiver runs down Kimi’s spine at the sensation, a gentleness he’s not used to being on the receiving end of when it comes to facing down against the villain. Slowly but surely his fingers move towards the base of his palm, towards his wrist, his thumb slowly sweeping over the veins beneath his skin. It makes Kimi itches, but he can’t do anything to combat that right now. Instead he just breathes slowly and watches, waiting anxiously for the Hornet to make his next move as he exercises the restraint that Sergi had taught him. 

 

“Do you know, Andrea, that hornets and wasps are the natural predators of spiders?”

 

“You’re the one that’s going to be tangled in my web,” he replies.

 

His words are quiet but firm, his confidence dreadfully misplaced, but without his faux confidence he’s nothing. At the very least, he has to pretend he believes in himself, or everything will be lost without a fight. Not that he’s expecting to put up a fight right now - there’s nothing he can do to get away or to usurp the Hornet and the shimmering stranger whilst he’s strapped to a table. 

 

“I won’t let you win,” he says anyway.

 

“And that’s why we should work together. We can win together,” the Hornet purrs. “You can have whatever you want. I’ll save the world, and you… You can have Ollie.”

 

There’s no point in pretending that Kimi’s face doesn’t betray him at that moment. He knows his emotions are clear as day, trepidation chiselled into his expression with his eyes hurt and his brows worried. It’s one thing if he’s strapped to a table, but if the Hornet has gone for Ollie again…

 

“You haven’t!” He cries

 

“I haven’t,” the Hornet confirms. “But I could.” 

 

That’s the haunting part, isn’t it? That’s what Kimi’s afraid of. The Hornet hasn’t hurt them, but as long as the people he loves are alive they’re in danger. If the Hornet were to kill them, then a lot of the leverage he has over Kimi would evaporate. He needs them alive just as much as Kimi does, but that doesn’t make the threat of hurting them any less terrifying.

 

“I won’t work with you,” Kimi whispers. “And I won’t let you hurt them. I’ll kill you, or die trying, before you can touch them.”

He thought that the tools beside him would’ve made him more compliant, but the Hornet has asked and threatened too much. Maybe if he’d started small, worked his way up to it, he would’ve had more success. Sebastian would’ve understood the need to work logically and sensibly, and that reinforces in Kimi’s mind that the Sebastian he once knew and worshiped is long gone.

 

Any thoughts on the tragedy of that fact are quickly halted by the sound of metal clattering against metal, and a glance to the side tells Kimi everything he needs to know - and everything he’d rather not know. The Venn diagram of those two things is, regrettably, a circle. The Hornet picks up a scalpel, light reflecting into Kimi’s eyes and making him flinch. It feels like a comical thing to flinch over, given how bad he knows things are about to get.

 

“Now, Andrea,” he says softly - tone almost fond. “This is going to hurt a little bit.”

 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Kimi exclaims.

 

The act of portraying a cool, calm, and collected exterior utterly collapses as the Hornet places his left hand atop Kimi’s palm, firmly enough to hold it in place. His right hand wields the scalpel, and the Hornet brings it closer to his wrist without another word. Kimi squirms, even if there’s nothing he can do, and he shouts out in protest desperately as the tip of the blade presses against his skin.

 

It pierces his flesh, a snapping sound accompanying the puncture, and Kimi feels a wave wash over him. It’s like the stress he’s been carrying has faded away, forgotten and replaced instead with a sharp, burning pain in his wrist. A few small beads of blood pool and trickle along the contours of his arm. It hurts, horribly, and he whimpers as the Hornet remains entirely unaffected and continues his handiwork. 

 

The sensation of being dissected against his will is enough for Kimi’s reflexes to be triggered. No amount of training with Sergi is enough to overcome this. His web shoots from his bloodied wrists, over the Hornet’s shoulder, attaching to the wall opposite him. Kimi tries to pull himself, but his restraints are too tight and he is too weak. There’s nothing he can do to escape, nothing he can do but endure this torture, and by the sounds the Hornet is making it’s not a torture that’s going to end any time soon.

 

The shimmering stranger collects the web that Kimi’s shot out, whilst the Hornet repeats the process - focusing intently on how his muscles move beneath the tissue of his skin.

 

As the cuts go deeper, they become more painful. More blood runs down his arm. Shooting so many webs in such quick succession drains his body, forced into producing more web over and over again. The usual white discharge is coated with blood. It’s horrifying to watch, and worse still to experience. Kimi’s gasps and whimpers build slowly into a crescendo of sobs, cries, and begs as he pleads for some kind of mercy. 

 

“Please,” he chokes. “Please, please stop, I’ll do anything!”

 

His words are desperate, his English is broken and slurred, but the Hornet just laughs. 

 

He’ll do anything, but not that. It’s the only thing he won’t do. He won’t join the Hornet. He won’t harm others to save himself. Even as he sobs, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he strains against his restraints, he won’t sacrifice others to save himself. His back arches as much as it can, he throws his head back with his teeth gritted so firmly that his face is bright red and he swears he’s going to burst a blood vessel, his left hand is clenched into a fist, nails digging into the soft skin at the heel of his palm, and he still won’t let others get hurt for his own safety.

 

He’s never felt so powerless. Kimi continues to beg, but his words fall on deaf ears. The Hornet, and his accomplice, have no interest in bargaining with him. The offer is on the table, and it isn’t going to change. The only way he can protect himself is if he takes it.

 

But he won’t. He can’t. 

 

As he grows weaker, so do his cries. There’s no point in expending energy on something as pointless as begging for a relief that will never come. Kimi becomes quieter, resigned to his pain, dissociating from the situation and retreating back into a world where there’s nothing and no one. The darkness from before, so all encompassing and terrifying, becomes a comfortable weighted blanket that keeps him safe as he lays with his eyes shut.

 

He doesn’t know when the dissection comes to an end, but eventually there’s no more metal poking at his wrist. Instead there’s a towel being pressed against the open wound to stem the bleeding, and when he dares to open his eyes and observe what’s unfolding he finds that the Hornet and the shimmering stranger have switched positions. The assistant is sitting with a needle, thread, and some bandages, and the Hornet is on his feet with the syringe and the little vial of liquid. 

 

Kimi is exhausted. Everything seems like the worst case situation, but every worst case situation just seems to get worse and worse. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

 

The Hornet doesn’t seem particularly pleased about Kimi’s lack of reaction, huffing to try and provoke him. But he’s tired, he doesn’t respond, and so the Hornet is left practically monologuing to himself to fill the silence.

 

“Do you remember the circus, Incy Wincy?” The Hornet asks as he strolls around the room. “My featured act, Doriane the daredevil. She was a test case. A proof of concept. The serum worked. It was quick, and short lasting, but my team has been working on something a little different…” 

 

Confirmation that the Hornet has a team is terrifying. Even if it was obvious, even if there was never a doubt in Kimi’s mind that the Hornet had to be getting help from somewhere to accomplish all of this, it doesn’t make the realisation any less awful.

 

“So, little spider,” the Hornet paces back in front of him, taking the now filled syringe as he approaches Kimi. “I need a new test subject.”

 

Oh. No. No. 

 

The Hornet stands on the left side of his body, allowing the shimmering stranger to continue to stitch up his wrist undisturbed. He pushes up the short sleeve covering his upper arm, and a bloodied thumb presses down hard against Kimi’s shoulder. He takes in deeper breaths, his eyes wide and glued to his shoulder as the Hornet’s focus only seems to grow more intense.

 

“This…” He says slowly. “Won’t hurt a bit.”

 

Aside from a momentary pinprick, the Hornet is telling the truth. It doesn’t hurt. There’s a rush of coldness as the fluid being injected floods his body, his rapidly beating heart carrying the substance through his veins. The cold sensation moves from his shoulder around his organs and to his extremities, and he finds himself shivering as the Hornet finishes administering it. He takes a step back at the same time the shimmering stranger finishes stitching his wrist back together, wiping away the last of the blood to clean his injury. 

 

He isn’t immediately paralysed, he doesn’t drift off into unconsciousness again, and so he lets himself relax for just a moment - as much as he can do given the context he finds himself in. He has to relax, if only to be able to recentre his mind to allow him to figure out what to do next. The experimentation phase of his capture seems to have come to an end, but he’s not going to allow himself to believe that the Hornet will just let him walk free now. He’s going to have to fight his way out. So relaxing, for a moment, is a requirement.

 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The Hornet asks him as he wanders around. 

 

Kimi follows his movements with his eyes, sniffling. Even as he’s trying to recuperate and prepare himself for a dramatic escape, he can’t help but feel insecure about what the last few hours(?) have done for his reputation as a fearless hero. Surely, the Hornet is never going to worry about him again. Surely he now just looks like an easy target. A bother or minor inconvenience at worst.

 

The Hornet leans over, and Kimi doesn’t flinch this time. There’s no point in flinching. The damage has already been done. Besides, the injection has provided him with some kind of immunity. He’s an experiment now, and an experiment will be useless if he’s dead before the results become apparent. But the Hornet doesn’t try anything, doesn’t go to hurt him, just uses a finger to wipe away the tear tracks on his cheeks.

 

“There there, little spider,” he coos softly - like a parent might console their child. “You’re safe here. Safer than anywhere else. And I know you know that too.”

 

Kimi doesn’t know that, actually. In all the months that have gone by, he’s never once thought of the Hornet as the safer party. He’s not about to start thinking like that either!

 

“Mercedes, they’re just using you,” the Hornet says.

 

There’s a glint in his eye as he speaks, but that’s not all. His hands come to his head, palms pressed to each cheek, and a soft hissing sound accompanies the whirrs of a gear mechanism. Moments later, the mask unlocks from where it fits together seamlessly, and the Hornet is removing his protective gear to look down on Kimi with his own eyes. He tries not to think about the implication that he feels safe enough to do so.

 

There are scars on his skin, his eyes are sunken and tired, but despite those small details he’s still Sebastian Vettel. Despite that, Kimi still finds himself struggling to make peace with the fact that the man in front of him is a four time World Champion.

 

“Do you think all this equipment is being provided for nothing? Andrea, there are conditions,” the Hornet stresses, and he almost sounds… Concerned? “You think they’re assisting you in your noble quest to defeat me, but what then? Do you think they’ll just let you go back to normal? No, Andrea, you’re going to be a pawn for whatever they want. You won’t be able to say no, not after all of this,” he cautions.

 

Kimi just blinks. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. Of course the team will let things go back to normal! Sergi is his friend, Toto is like a father, the whole team is his family. They wouldn’t use him.

 

… Right?

 

“The offer is on the table, Andrea,” the Hornet tells him simply. “When you’re ready to join me, there’ll be no strings attached. I’ll get the power I deserve, and you… You can have anything you want. Racing glory, the boy you love, anything else your heart desires. I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

Around them, the shimmering stranger finishes tidying up, and the Hornet puts his mask back on to hide his face. Kimi is left wondering what’s happened as they walk away, feeling like everything has moved over an inch to the right. Everything just feels slightly wrong, slightly off, and he can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in his chest as the room is plunged into darkness once more.

 

+ + +

 

????????, ?????? ???????
?????? ?? ???? ????

 

Kimi doesn’t know how long the darkness persists. He tries, like before, to count his breathing, but he keeps losing track. His body is cold, and the shivering makes it harder to focus. His wrist hurts, and that distracts him more often than he’d like it to. So he stops trying to count, and it’s like he becomes ethereal. Nothing about him belongs in this world anymore, not his body or his thoughts or his pain. He floats. Maybe he drifts in and out of sleep, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe a significant amount of time passes, but maybe it doesn’t. All he knows is that, at some point, the endless monotony of nothing comes to an end.

 

Lights flicker on, but not the LEDs this time. A door opens, but rather than a clattering of noise there’s just the sound of hurried footsteps shuffling across the ground.

 

“Kimi!”

 

Toto… 

 

The man in question approaches him quickly, and Kimi is deeply comforted by his presence. There’s a hand cupping his face, fingers wiping away the blood and tears that have dried in the intervening time, and another hand is reaching for his wrist. Kimi whimpers pathetically at the contact that’s made, biting his tongue so that Toto isn’t too concerned about him. For all he knows, the events have taken place over a handful of hours, he could still have time to go home, rest for the night, and come back to the track tomorrow ready to jump in the car. He can’t let Toto overrule that.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Toto whispers, his hands slowly moving across his body and methodically undoing the straps holding him to the table.

 

Kimi is relieved to finally be free, letting his body slide down and landing on his feet. He feels unstable at first, and Toto’s hands come to his shoulders to steady him, but eventually he’s able to stand without swaying too much. Feeling returns to his body, and his aching limbs feel rejuvenated as he’s able to stretch and move. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

Kimi takes a breath and looks down at himself. It’s a strange question to ask when he’s covered in his own blood, when he’s shivering because of a serum that’s been injected directly into his veins, but despite it he nods. He’s alive, he’s in one piece, and if he says he’s not okay then he’s going to be put into a bed and told to rest until he’s recovered. Whilst he might need that physically, mentally the idea of doing nothing but being left with his own thoughts terrifies him. His nightmares were bad enough before this, he doesn’t want to think about how difficult sleep will be now.

 

“Fine,” he nods. “How long have I been gone?”

 

“A day,” Toto explains, his arm around Kimi’s shoulder as he starts to lead him out from where he’s been held captive.

 

Kimi swallows, nodding his head. A day… It’s Friday lunchtime, then. He doesn’t know how far from the track he’s been taken, although it can’t be too far if Toto’s here. It probably means that FP1 is out of the question, but the team have reserve drivers to field. Fred could be passed off as a young driver test, and Valtteri could be discussed as a backup plan should Kimi struggle with lingering concussion symptoms and have to withdraw later in the weekend. It’s not ideal, but it’s hopefully enough to keep people from putting the pieces together and accusing him of being the Silver Spider.

 

He’s given a spare pair of clothes to change into, and whilst he steps into the jeans and Mercedes t-shirt Toto uses some wipes to clean the blood from him. 

 

With Toto around, Kimi pays little attention to the process of actually leaving the place. He knows he should, that it would be useful to know where he was in case he has to escape again - or in case he has to break back in - but it’s the last thing on his mind. If he’s driving this afternoon, if he’s about to appear to the media, he needs to be ready to face the world. 

 

He sleeps in the passenger seat of the Mercedes he’s driven back to the circuit in, a light and fitful sleep that does little to make him feel more energised for the day. At least, he hopes, he looks an awful lot less like shit when he enters the paddock. And at least the photographers are more concerned with the action on track rather than Kimi’s late arrival. There’s barely anyone around to photograph him as he squeezes through the gates with Toto by his side, his pass still in his driver room from the day before. 

 

It’s as if the team have been explicitly briefed not to ask questions, because Kimi’s return is met with no special treatment. They’re deep in the running of a live session, which helps too, as Toto makes his way back to his headset and Kimi slinks through the garage before any cameras can see him. The only person that looks his way is Sergi, with a concern in his eyes that he can’t mask completely, but by the time the two of them make it back to his driver room the mask slips and the true extent of his trainer’s worry is unleashed.

 

Arms are thrown around him and Kimi’s feet are lifted off the floor entirely, but he feels safe as he dangles in Sergi’s arms. He buries his head into his neck, scrunching his eyes shut to allow for a brief moment of comfort. He’ll have to pull himself together fairly quickly and push everything aside before the next Practice session, but for now it’s nice to just feel… Okay. 

 

They don’t talk about what’s happened, and Kimi’s grateful for it. Sergi brings him food - more than he’d usually get to make up for the fact that he hasn’t eaten in over a day - and they go through a few warm up exercises to make sure there’s no other injuries that haven’t already been reported back to him. The injection doesn’t seem to have had an affect on his hand-eye coordination, and whilst his wrist is in a lot of pain it’s nothing that he can’t push through. He might not be in peak condition, but he’s safe to drive.

 

From there, things fall into their usual places. Kimi catches up with Bono - who himself seems deeply concerned about his driver even if he won’t bring it up - and they talk about the strategies and set up options for the weekend. Kimi listens obediently and speaks when he needs to, even if the relentless questions coming his way begin to irritate him. It makes sense, he’s just been tortured and is jumping back into things like nothing has happened, and he’s having to condense 24 hours of conversations into 2. He manages to bite his tongue successfully throughout the streamlined briefings and, before long, he’s rewarded with an hour on track.

 

He doesn’t do particularly well, only scraping to P12 during the soft tyre runs at the end, and it means when he’s in the media pen after the session he’s being asked questions on whether or not he was ready to return, whether or not he needed more time to heal. His wrist burns as they ask those questions, and he avoids the journalists’ eyes as goes through the motions. The long sleeved t-shirt he’s been given is baking him under the lights and the summer sun, but he’s got to hide his injuries somehow if he wants to keep racing.

 

Muscle memory is all that keeps him going for the rest of the day as he goes back to the team and talks about the changes that need making before Practice tomorrow. It feels like he talks about the wing angles for hours, even though it’s more than likely just a couple of minutes, but it frustrates him. He shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they’re clenched into fists, that his fingernails are digging into the heels of his palms to keep himself calm, and he does everything in his power to act like himself. Something that, really, shouldn’t be so difficult.

 

After dinner, he accompanies Toto back home. There are no questions asked when he goes straight to bed, even as Jack whines that he wants to play. He closes the door to the spare bedroom behind him and sinks down to the ground, taking his shirt off immediately so the fabric will stop irritating his shoulder and wrist. He closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands, leaning forward until his fingers tangle in his hair and tug as hard as they can.

 

Being a superhero is awful. He wishes he could take it all back. He wishes he’d never told Sergi he’d been bitten by a spider, he wishes he’d never intervened in Jeddah, he wishes he’d never made a name for himself. Of course, if he hadn’t done all those things, then countless people would be dead. Being a good person is simply exhausting.

 

As Kimi exhales, he hears a little clicking sound and looks up. For a moment he wonders if his nightmares are about to get a whole lot worse, if the Hornet has somehow managed to plant a bomb in his bedroom, but he’s afforded one real kindness when the clicking sound just turns out to be Pedro. He’s still on the bedside table, where he’s been left alone for over a day, and Kimi leans forward to unzip the front pocket of his bag so he can slip his watch on to chat to the little guy.

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER IS GRAVELY INJURED!]

 

“Thanks, mate,” Kimi mutters weakly. “I know.”

 

[PEDRO ADVISED THE SILVER SPIDER NOT TO PUT HIMSELF IN DANGER!]

 

“Well, the Hornet wasn’t very receptive to that request,” he says.

 

Kimi pushes himself up from the floor, swapping his jeans and underwear for a loose pair of pyjama shorts before he collapses into bed with his phone. The covers are cool and soft against his body, but despite the warmth of the continued heatwave he’d desperately appreciate something snug. So far, the only thing he’s noticed from the injection is that he’s colder than usual. 

 

He starts to scroll through dozens of missed notifications. The group chats have all been active in his absence. There is, of course, no surprise that the GPDA chat is brimming with concern - particularly for Ollie and Esteban’s wellbeing. There’s a message from George at the start of the thread, confirming that Toto had said Kimi had left the track before the attack, and he’s grateful that the team around him have continued to cover for him. Especially now that Ollie has direct proof that Esteban isn’t either the Silver Spider or the Hornet and needs to find a new outlet for his conspiracy theories. Right now, if the rookie group chat is anything to go by, it seems that Max Verstappen is his latest target. Apparently his attitude to the conversation during the grid parade in Monaco has aroused enough suspicion for Kimi to live another day.

 

He’s got half a mind to make a joke about kissing him, but that’s just going to start a conversation he really doesn’t want the other rookies involved in.

 

Kimi doesn’t have the energy to respond to the rest of his messages, even the ones he really should respond to. He sends his parents a quick text to confirm that he’s safe, that he’s just been busy, that Toto and Susie are doing a really good job of taking care of him and he’ll see them once the weekend is over. He responds to Doriane’s messages with a heart, several paragraphs of concern and missed calls followed up with the relief of seeing him out in FP2 this afternoon. Ollie… Ollie gets nothing. Kimi is just too tired to flirt, and there’s no way he’ll just be able to send a quick reaction without questions being asked. 

 

Ollie’s seen him in the paddock anyway, he knows he’s not dead, and he knows that this is his first time driving again after his crash. He believes in Ollie’s ability to think logically about the situation.

 

Kimi, despite his anxieties, falls asleep quickly and easily. And he sleeps soundly, no matter how terrifying his dreams are. Nightmares, it seems, are no competition for the universal exhaustion brought on by torture.

 

+ + +

 

Silverstone, United Kingdom
Saturday 05 July 2025

 

The morning proceeds as follows. Kimi wakes in a cold sweat from half a dozen consecutive nightmares, he listens to Pedro chastise him for putting himself in danger, he treks to the bathroom to clean up and spends the shower alternating between experiencing a panic attack from the water running over his body and wincing in pain as he washes his wound. He picks at the breakfast that Jack helped Toto make for the family, then he goes back to the bedroom to get ready for the day. He stands in front of the mirror and examines the puncture site on his shoulder and stares at the various cuts on his arm, before packing his bag (Pedro included, this time), and joining the family to make their way to the track.

 

Flanked by the Wolffs, Kimi is protected from the media more than he usually would be as he enters. He’s escorted all the way to Mercedes hospitality, and goes about his usual routine. He convinces Sergi he’s okay to race, he warms up, he talks to Bono about the programme for the Practice session and clambers into the car his mechanics have painstakingly spent the morning adjusting to help him do a little bit better. And he does do a little bit better - this soft tyre run puts him in P8 for the end of the session. It’s nothing compared to George, who so far this weekend has gone P4, P1, and P2, and whilst plenty of fans are sympathetic for him there are just as many - if not more - calling for Fred to step in after his FP1 session, or Valtteri to step in with his wealth of experience.

 

But Kimi is determined to race, and the team is duty bound to facilitate that for him. So, with a few final suggested tweaks made to the team, Kimi disappears for his lunch. It’s nothing special, a pasta salad slightly tailored to help with the extra caloric intake he needs to compensate for his body healing as well as functioning. He forces himself to eat it all in the quiet of his room when there’s a gentle knock at the door, and Kimi bites his tongue. He’s already more frustrated than usual, the last thing he needs is for his routine to be disturbed.

 

He puts the lid back on the salad bowl and gets to his feet, preparing himself to be faced with one of the approved members of the team. Sergi, naturally, can come and see him without any warning. The same can be said for Toto. Bono, he likes to think, would’ve texted him to make sure he was available. Beyond that three, no one else should have immediate access to him this weekend. Outside of the team, maybe Ollie’s snuck over to see him, but Ollie had a worse FP3 than he did and surely needs to be working with the team to make sure he nails Qualifying at his home track.

 

When he opens the door, he’s entirely surprised to find himself face to face with someone not on that list, and someone not even on the list of might come and find me even though they’ve been specifically asked not to. In fact, the person standing in front of him is enough to make his face light up even though he’s been through Hell.

 

Nico Rosberg, his mentor and friend, with a sympathetic look on his face.

 

He’s talked to Nico often since making it to Formula 1 - mostly recently in Monaco, after the victory in Imola that feels like ancient history now - but it’s always a little difficult to tell who’s a friend and who’s an opportunist. After a terrible few sessions so far this weekend, Kimi knows that Nico is a friend. No one looking for an opportunity would be knocking on his door before Qualifying. He’s going to be lucky to make it into Q3, after all.

 

“Can I come in?” Nico asks, and Kimi nods.

 

He steps back from the door, reaching out for his good luck charms as he takes his seat and goes back to his salad. It might be more than an hour until Qualifying, but Kimi needs all the luck he can get today.

 

For the first time since Toto rescued him, Kimi feels calm. There’s no tension in his body, nothing that’s frustrating or irritating him. Being alongside his old mentor feels reassuring, and Kimi is grateful for that. Nico, probably, will never know the truth about who Kimi is. He’ll never know that he’s the Silver Spider, he’ll never know what happened to him this weekend, and he’ll never know what kind of support he’s been.

 

“How’s your head?” Nico asks. “It was a pretty big knock last weekend. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

The irony of no one knowing about what’s happened to him is that everyone keeps asking about his concussion. If the concussion was all he had to worry about, then Kimi would be nothing short of relieved.

 

“I’m fine,” he confirms. “I’m just building up slowly, eh? No point in doing something stupid during Practice. The points are scored tomorrow,” he identifies. 

 

“You don’t have to rush back if you’re injured,” Nico reminds him. “Toto… He’ll understand. He sees the same greatness in you that I do, that so many people do. Don’t waste that by coming back too soon.”

 

“I know,” Kimi nods. “But I want to race. If I didn’t want to race, if I didn’t think I could, I wouldn’t be here.”

 

He fiddles anxiously with his charms. There’s nothing he can do to fight against the logic being presented to him, and if he were thinking with a logical brain then he’d probably take a step back too. But then the Hornet’s won, hasn’t he? He can’t let him win. He has to race, he won’t let himself be scared or hurt to the point that the Hornet can claim victory. He’s already injected his body with some strange kind of serum, the last thing he needs is to give him more ammunition to feel like he’s the one in control.

 

Kimi is just as in control as the Hornet is, and he can race.

 

“Alright, mate, if you’re sure,” Nico replies.

 

As he gets to his feet, he pulls out his phone.

 

“Do you mind if I take a quick picture of us?” 

 

When Kimi’s hurtling towards the barrier at the end of Q3, he curses the fact that he didn’t tell Nico not to take that photograph. The curse, it seems, is as real as it ever was. Just as he was making his way through Maggotts and Becketts the heavens had opened up, and his slick tyres that had given him so much speed and confidence a fraction of a second ago suddenly became his worst nightmare. His car no longer has grip of any kind with the speed that he’s carrying, and there’s no time to correct. For the second time in a week, his car is bouncing through gravel and hitting a barrier. At least, this time, there’s no ‘bee’ in his helmet. At least, this time, he doesn’t fall unconscious. At least, this time, he can pull himself out of the car and walk away with a wave to the crowd and marshals alike to confirm that he’s alright. Embarrassed, but alright.

 

Nico beats keyrings, he thinks to himself. This is an odd rendition of rock, paper, scissors. 

 

A little moped takes him back to the pits, and he becomes gradually damper as he and the marshal make their way through the rain. His car is retrieved, and the session gets underway again, but there’s no point in any cars going back onto the track. Even if there are drivers with less than satisfactory banker laps, they’re hardly going to improve on a dry run in the monsoon-like conditions that have swept the circuit.

 

By the time that Kimi is back in the pit lane, the other drivers in the top 10 are going through the motions. George, Lando, and Oscar are being interviewed by Martin Brundle, there’s a queue of drivers waiting to be weighed, and as Kimi goes through his own procedures to make sure he doesn’t get disqualified on top of everything else that’s gone wrong so far, he finds he isn’t alone. No, he doesn’t get to stew in his helmet and feel miserable about the fact that he’s crashed two weekends in a row, instead he has to make conversation.

 

At least, he supposes, the conversation is with Ollie. A look over his shoulder confirms the results of Qualifying, and he spots that Ollie has somehow put his car in P6. They walk from the scales to the media pen together, slowly, taking advantage of what little time they have together before there’s cameras in their faces again.

 

“Are you alright?” Ollie asks nervously. 

 

“Fine,” Kimi nods. “The car barely even touched the barriers, eh? Just a shit time for the rain,” he snorts - if he laughs then people won’t be concerned. “Two corners later and I’d have slowed down and driven back to the pits. Even the weather has British bias,” he teases.

 

That comment is enough to make Ollie laugh, which is a relief, but then he’s right back at it.

 

“It’s just, you had a huge crash last weekend, you missed FP1, you’ve been struggling all weekend… Is there something wrong? I won’t tell anyone if you’re injured,” he adds hurriedly.

 

Kimi sighs. He’s not even made it to the media pen and already he’s being asked the same question over and over again. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and shakes his head.

 

“I told you, I’m fine. Listen, eh?” He snaps.

 

Kimi finds that he’s taken aback by just how he delivered those words, but not more than Ollie is. He visibly recoils, and there’s a hurt in his eyes that Kimi feels dreadfully responsible for. But it’s not his fault! He’s been through Hell, how many times can he be expected to calmly repeat the same answer?!

 

As it turns out, that number is higher than he thinks. Every journalist he speaks to opens with that question, and the smile he plasters on his face during the first interview has faded entirely by the time he reaches the last interview. There’s no longer a spark in his eyes, just a dull exhaustion that fans of the sport who dislike him specifically will relish in tearing to pieces. They’ll say he should never have been promoted, that it was too soon, that he wasn’t good enough. There’ll be people saying that he should be in a Sauber, that Gabriel deserves his seat, or maybe some that say Mercedes should’ve dropped him from their academy rather than Paul Aron. He can see it now, the memes, the hate comments, the vitriol and spite… It infuriates him. 

 

He pushes his tongue against his cheek and leans heavily against the barriers, barely offering up a substantive answer to the questions he’s asked. He can see, beside him, Rosa is giving him a concerned look. He can’t tell if she too is about to ask if he’s okay, but the mere thought of it is enough to push him over the edge. The next question he’s asked, he rolls his eyes indignantly. 

 

If the media are going to hate him, he might as well give them a reason to hate him.

 

“Eh, mate, I’m not answering any more of your stupid questions,” Kimi waves his hand at the journalist. “I drove like shit, again. I hit the wall, again. I’ll probably hit the wall tomorrow too. Is that the headline you want?” 

 

After he snaps he offers the man the perfect photo to go with his headline - sticking out his middle finger as he walks away in frustration and ignores Rosa as she walks after him.

 

€40,000 later, Kimi has calmed down. Of course the conversation with Toto doesn’t go particularly well, he doesn’t enjoy being scolded by his boss and then sitting in the back of the car as he’s driven home by the man, but he’s able to hold his tongue more than he was earlier. Toto’s disappointment has fizzled away too, and the atmosphere in the car is one of concern - that maybe a second crash, even if it was a lot less dramatic than the first, in such a short space of time might not be great for him. Kimi, though, pays it no mind. His own thoughts are much more focused on the media spectacle he created. And, more than that, on why it happened. 

 

To put it simply, Kimi has no idea why he lashed out like that.

 

He’s been frustrated plenty of times before - with himself, with the car, with the media - but he’s always been able to control himself. He’s always taken a deep breath, put his emotions to one side, and gotten on with the job. So why today is so different, he can’t explain.

 

Kimi keeps to himself when they arrive back home, with a similar routine to the night before. He avoids Toto, Susie, and Jack, he barely touches his dinner, he sits alone in his room with Pedro deliberately idle in his bag, and he doesn’t respond to any of the messages on his phone. Not from his friends, not from his family, nobody.

 

And when sleep finally comes, it’s just as fitful as the night before.

 

+ + +

 

Silverstone, United Kingdom
Sunday 06 July 2025

 

After yesterday’s crash, P8 is a solid enough position to find himself starting in. His banker lap was good enough not to be dead last, and the rain coming when it did meant there were still some people that couldn’t set laps to displace his first attempt. He shouldn’t be at all dismayed by it, but after a decent few results his form has taken a nosedive. A DNF last weekend and a P8 start this weekend says nothing but bad things about the kind of driver he is. A one hit wonder, the sort of driver who’s already peaked, someone that they’ll be pointing to his first and only victory in Imola in years to come to defend why he still has a spot on the grid.

 

Maybe he’ll be able to prove them wrong, but it’s difficult to feel that way right now.

 

There are dozens of cameras on him as he sits by the pit wall and tries to find some shade. Bono is on his left holding a clipboard, Sergi on his right holding an umbrella. His silver cooling jacket hides his wounds brilliantly, but it doesn’t hide them from his mind. He can feel himself getting angrier, upset bubbling away beneath the surface, and there’s no reason for it.

 

Yesterday, there was a reason. Now, there’s no reason. Nothing’s happened. The team has done a brilliant job getting his car ready to go, Bono has been working around the clock to find the perfect strategy to try and get him into a podium position, everyone is doing everything they can to maximise this weekend after the bad luck of yesterday. Everyone is ready to put the controversy to bed. But Kimi just keeps feeling worse, and that…

 

It scares him.

 

He’s not listening to Bono as he talks about how the soft tyre is expected to hold up in these conditions, he’s thinking about his shoulder. He’s thinking about how something was injected into him two days ago, how the Hornet told him that he was the second test subject, and how he has to assume that it means whatever is running through his veins now is similar to what Doriane ingested in the circus.

 

She became nothing but a puppet in the blink of an eye, dancing on the strings of the Hornet and the shimmering stranger. The Hornet claimed to have tweaked whatever that was, and is now testing it on him.

 

As rage continues to simmer beneath his skin, he dreads to think what that could mean. 

 

He wants to grab Sergi and pull him to one side, he wants to talk to him and tell him exactly what happened when the Hornet took him, but he can’t. Whenever he thinks about doing that, his whole body becomes white hot with a meaningless rage. He’s blinded by the emotion and, until it fizzles out, he can’t think about anything else. He can’t control it, either. Taking a deep breath doesn’t help him. Calming exercises don’t help. Drinking a soothing herbal tea is useless as well. And when it does pass, the idea of telling Sergi anything is long gone.

 

Kimi only realises what’s happened when the cycle starts again, and in the moment between that realisation and the sudden build up of anger there’s a flash of terror. 

 

He moves to the front of the grid for the anthem, ignoring every journalist that tries to thrust a microphone in front of his face, and he stands silently as ‘God Save the King’ is performed by an overenthusiastic pop trio. He’s respectful, claps when he should, signs a cap for the grid kid standing in front of him, and he returns to his car as soon as he can. 

 

Kimi gives his balaclava a quick check before he pulls it over his head, and does the same with his helmet before that goes over his head. Sergi hands him his good luck charms first and Kimi gives them a tight squeeze, before he trades them for a pair of gloves. He’s plugged into all of his equipment and helped into the car, checking that the soles of his shoes are perfectly clean before he hauls himself over the halo and settles into the cockpit. Mechanics buckle him into place, he gives Bono a radio check, and the tyre warmers are taken off his car. Everything is completed to perfect time, and Kimi pulls away for the formation lap with a near perfect clutch - just 3% deep. 

 

The race itself is… More of a mixture. 

 

He has moments of perfect clarity and lucidity where he does exactly what’s needed of him. He responds to Bono’s suggestions for engine mode, and he claws his way up from P8 to P4. But there’s moments, too, where the exact opposite is the case. As he’s trying to fight back onto the podium and is trying to find the perfect moment to pull a ballsy overtake on Oscar, he finds himself stuck in traffic. And Carlos swerves back and forth under the blue flags. Oscar gets ahead, but Kimi’s stuck behind him for another few corners.

 

So Kimi, politely, runs him wide in a moment of blind rage.

 

By the time Bono’s informing him of a ten second penalty from the stewards, his vision is blurry and his eyes are hot. His mouth is open wide as he breathes, in shock at his own actions. Though to call them his own actions would be a stretch. He doesn’t remember doing it consciously, even though he knows he did. The memory exists in his mind, but it’s not his memory. He doesn’t know how the decision was made to push him off. 

 

It’s petrifying. 

 

He serves his penalty at the next pit stop, focusing on hitting his marks and getting away cleanly when there’s a green light above him. Bono tells him to keep his nose clean on the radio, and there’s another moment of anger. There’s no one around him on the track to make pay, so instead he just pushes like mad. And when he comes to his senses towards the end of the stint, he’s stuck managing his tyres and hemorrhaging positions to drivers that have no business in passing him. 

 

Kimi, after everything, finishes in P9. He scrapes together two measly points for himself and the team, whilst George is on the top step of the podium. Kimi doesn’t bother going to cheer for him. He waits to be weighed, then breezes through the media pen without Rosa or Sergi to keep him from saying anything stupid. He’s in and out before they’ve even realised he’s not around, and he goes straight back to his driver room.

 

His mood is on a pendulum, swinging back and forth, back and forth between fear and frustration. When he makes it to his room, he kicks a chair with his foot then sinks down to the ground and puts his head between his knees. Kimi feels a sob rip itself from his chest, and then he punches the floor in an attempt to stop himself from crying. 

 

A sharp breath jogs him back to the present, his mind racing. This is frightening. This might be more frightening than anything else he’s faced. Watching the Hornet with his hands on Maggie’s shoulders is one thing, seeing him fly through the tight streets of Monaco with Ollie in his grasp is another, but Kimi could do something in response to that. He was capable of controlling his own actions. He saved Ollie, he’s been keeping a close eye on his sister. This… This is different. 

 

He can’t control himself now. When he wants to say one thing, he says nothing. He’s angry, he’s doing stupid things he’d never otherwise do, he’s putting people in danger and damaging his reputation. Kimi doesn’t know how far this has gone, so he decides in a moment of control to put it to the test. He pushes himself back to his feet and pulls out the chair in front of the desk, reaching over to his bag and pulling out his notebook and a pen. 

 

The plan is a simple one - to write a note for Sergi, detailing what’s happened to him and that he needs help. That he needs someone to figure out a way to reverse whatever is in his system before it’s too late. He pulls the cap off the pen and sits bolt upright as he opens his notebook and starts to write.

 

Sergi. I am completely fine. Disregard your concerns. Sincerely, Andrea.

 

His heart beats faster, and he scribbles out the words before he tries again.

 

Sergi, there is nothing to worry about. I am just doing what I was always meant to do. Regards, Andrea.

 

No, that’s not right, third time lucky - that’s how it’s supposed to work isn’t it? He tears out the paper and crumples up the first two attempts before he lets out a breath and prepares himself for one more go.

 

Go fuck yourself, Sergi. 

 

The door behind him opens without a knock and Kimi jumps to his feet, his trainer standing behind him with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised sky high. The look is somewhere between disapproval and concern, like he’s not quite decided which side of the aisle he’s falling on for the foreseeable future.

 

“Talk to me, Kimi,” he encourages softly - giving him a chance to explain himself.

 

“Fuck you,” Kimi replies fiercely. 

 

Something inside of him breaks. His heart feels empty, his stomach feels riddled with guilt, but his head… His head feels wonderful. He smiles, from ear to ear, tilting his head to stare at his trainer and bite his tongue. 

 

“I’m sorry?” Sergi asks, blinking rapidly as he tries to understand what’s going on.

 

“I said,” Kimi repeats confidently, taking steps forward until he’s inches away from the taller man. “Fuck. You.” 

 

He prods Sergi’s chest with his index finger, hard as he dares, bending the tip of his own finger back ever so slightly. His blood is pumping faster than he’s accustomed to, even in the heat of a race, and he giggles. Oh it feels good to let loose, to swear, to give Sergi a piece of his mind.

 

“Fuck you, and fuck this whole team! You’re using me, I know it!” 

 

Both concern and disapproval have vanished from Sergi’s face, replaced in their entirety with shock. And despite the gleeful expression on Kimi’s features, he’s feeling something more akin to dread and horror. These words… They aren’t his words. He can’t say his words. He’s got no control over what happens right now, but Sergi has no idea that’s the case. No one does. 

 

He turns on his heels and grabs his bag, starting to change back into his jeans and t-shirt there and then. He doesn’t care how much Sergi sees, and any usual tactics like stepping into the bathroom or turning to face away from his trainer are entirely forgotten. Instead, he just strips down and dresses in the most efficient way. He stuffs his pockets with the things he needs - his paddock pass, his wallet, and his passport - and he formulates something that resembles a plan. Kimi doesn’t know what the plan is, but his body certainly seems to understand.

 

“Kimi, calm down, you have a debrief with the team in 10 minutes,” Sergi informs him.

 

“I have nothing to say,” Kimi shrugs, pulling his bag over his shoulders. “Tell Bono to get fucked, tell Toto to get fucked, and tell the team the car is shit.” 

 

The look on Sergi’s face is enough to tell Kimi that he won’t be repeating any of that, and he’s desperately glad of it even if he doesn’t appear that way. Instead he just barges past his trainer, ducking under an outstretched arm that tries to stop him from leaving the room, and he marches straight out of hospitality. He doesn’t stop for the media, he doesn’t wave to fans, he doesn’t respond to anyone that says his name. He just walks out, with storms in his eyes, pushing through the crowds of people as he climbs into the first available Uber. Being famous is enough of a reason to get what he needs, a ride to the airport, and Kimi sits in the back of the car in silence as he waits out the journey.

 

Behind the silence, Kimi is shaking. His mask is steel and resolute, but the spiral that’s started to take hold of him in the past thirty six hours is gnawing at him inside where no one can see. He wants to cry, to scream to the world that it’s not fair! All he’s done for months is try to protect people, try to save them. So why, now, has the world decided that he can’t be given the same in return? Why, now that he’s in what seems like a hopeless situation, has the world given the Hornet exactly what he needs? His words are trapped in his own mind, and the gap between himself and his team grows larger with every passing second. It’s an abyss he can’t quite reach across, an island so deserted that there’s no lifeboat coming to save him. He doesn’t know what’s happening, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t fix it, not on his own.

 

But no one knows that he needs saving. No one knows that there’s anything to fix. No one is coming for him.

 

He’s on his own.

Notes:

TLDR - The Hornet medically tortures Kimi by dissecting his wrists, which triggers his web shooting muscles over and over. Kimi begs him to stop, but he doesn't. When the Hornet has what he's looking for, the shimmering stranger stitches his wounds closed, and the Hornet directs his attention to the syringe and vial of liquid.

Well, wasn't that a fun chapter everyone? I'm sure nothing of consequence will occur in the coming chapters as a result of this...! Invoices for therapy can be submitted in the comment section below, or on Discord or Tumblr if you really want to get up close and personal with your frustrations. I thrive off them, so please let me know what you think <3 See you all next week!

Chapter 8: Issue 8: What's Up, Puppet Boy?

Notes:

Hello again - there's another skippable section with the same use of bold text to help you skip over some rather gory stuff. See you in the End Notes!

Bologna, Italy
Tuesday 08 July, 2025

 

Being famous has never been a particularly enjoyable experience for Kimi. He loves driving, he loves racing, but what he doesn’t love is the cameras constantly in his face, the eyes watching his every move on and off track. He’s never liked feeling so constantly observed, but the journey from Silverstone to Bologna felt worse than usual. He’d had a terrible weekend on track - not to mention the torment off track - and so there’d been people watching him from the moment he’d made it to the airport. 

 

They photographed him as he made his way through security, Pedro in his rucksack flagging his bag for extra checks. They photographed him as he made his way to Burger King and ordered a dinner that Sergi would never have approved of, even on a Sunday with two weekends sans race. They photographed him as he pulled his cap down over his face and refused signatures and selfies alike. 

 

He’s had texts from the team, from Rosa, telling him that it’s not great PR, and after lashing out at the media he needs good PR, but he’s ignored them all. 

 

The family home is quiet in comparison. The paparazzi can’t get past the front gates, the bushes in the back garden are high enough and dense enough that he and the rest of his family is afforded privacy that the world doesn’t want them to have, and once his bedroom door is shut even his parents prying eyes can’t find him. Not for a lack of trying, though. They’ve been knocking on the door, trying to coerce him out with his Nonna’s lasagne and his mother’s tiramisu. Neither attempt has worked. 

 

At least, for now, they’re content to leave him alone. He knows that won’t last forever, that eventually he’ll have to come out and spend some time with them, but they seem to understand that he’s exhausted. Silverstone was the twelfth round of the season, the official halfway point of his first season in Formula 1, so it’s understandable that he’d want a few days of quiet to decompress. He’s only really been home for one full day. He made it back just before midnight on Sunday, and now it’s just after midnight on Tuesday. They won’t start to worry until the afternoon.

 

It buys him time. Time that he desperately needs. Time that he doesn’t have. He might not be under any kind of scrutiny, but it doesn’t mean that he’s alone. His head is filled to the brim with thoughts that aren’t his, and whilst he lies on his side, curled up on himself and completely still, it feels as if there’s a war in his mind. He blinks, unable to sleep, staring at the wall beside his bed as if he’s comatose. 

 

The short periods of sleep he’s gotten since he came home have been ravaged by nightmares, and the time he’s been awake has been filled with pain. Emotionally and physically, the first half of his rookie season has destroyed him. He’s fairly certain if he’d just been racing, he’d have felt drained, but how he feels right now… Kimi’s a shell of his former self. His wrists are in agony - he knows he needs to change the bandages and clean his wounds before he gets an infection - and his shoulder burns. As he thinks back over how the world has changed since Australia, tries to think about the things he’s done well, whatever is in his system talks louder and reminds him of all the things he’s done badly. He thinks about the unconscious people in Canada, who he abandoned before knowing the first responders were on the scene. He thinks about the crash in Austria, the marshals he put in danger because he couldn’t slow his car down in time. Even Miami, where he did a relatively good job of saving lives, those people are traumatised because he wasn’t fast enough.

 

Whenever he’s done good, it hasn’t been enough.

 

So, the voice in his head whispers to him, why not stop trying? Why not do something bad?

 

It’s a new tactic. The voice has been wearing him down over the last thirty six hours in varying ways. Anger and rage drove him over the weekend, which worked to a degree, but since returning home and trying in vain to fight back it’s changed. The voice is softer, persuasive rather than demanding, using logic and reason to argue against any counterpoint he can make. It’s wearing him down gradually. He wants to tear out his hair, he wants to sob, he wants to scream.

 

He wants Sergi. But would Sergi want him? He wants Toto. But would Toto want him? He wants someone to hold him and tell him everything will be okay. But who in their right mind would embrace someone that can’t save them all? 

 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts from his head, Kimi gets to his feet and tiptoes quietly through the house. It’s still, silent, the only sound breaking the night his footsteps making the floorboards creak as he descends down the stairs and makes his way outside. He’s in his pyjamas - sweatpants and an old Mercedes shirt - and the grass is heavy with dew that makes him shiver as he walks barefoot towards a small pond at the bottom of the garden. The slight slope means that when he sits down, only the top of his head will be visible from the ground floor. Not that anyone is on the ground floor right now, and not that they’d see him in the darkness.

 

Kimi lets his toes dip below the surface of the water. He winces. The air is cooler than he expected it to be, so he wraps his arms around himself and stares up at the night sky.

 

There isn’t much to see. Light pollution from the city blocks out the stars. The few times he thinks he spots a star, the light flashes, and he realises it’s just a plane.

 

You could do something about that. 

 

He shivers and pulls his arms more tightly around himself, closing his eyes. 

 

He thinks about moving further forward. Maybe he could slip into the pond completely. Maybe if he did, he’d stay underwater long enough to drown again. Maybe this time, it would be enough. Surely if he drowns, that will shut the voice in his head up. There might be a few other consequences, but it would stop the voice in his head, that much he’s certain of.

 

But of course, the voice in his head isn’t going to let him do something as reckless as that. The voice in his head wants him alive. He’s an experiment, and an experiment is no good dead.

 

“What do you want from me?” Kimi wonders aloud.

 

He has an answer, of course. The Hornet gave it to him in Silverstone, and in Canada. He wants them to be on the same side, to be allies. They’re stronger together than they are divided. Kimi, clearly, is a way to give the Hornet more power, and that’s all he really wants. 

 

And for that reason, the voice in his head doesn’t say anything else. There’s nothing else to say.

 

With more than two weeks until the next race weekend, Kimi is terrified of just how much he’s going to deteriorate. If Silverstone is anything to go by, then being around people clearly makes it worse, but being alone isn’t ideal either. When he’s alone, he’s able to scrape together enough control to have a conversation with the serum. He’s able to interrogate it, ask questions, understand it more, but he can’t stop it. It’s a slow, lonely decline, or a quick, public spiral. He can’t tell which is worse.

 

Either he hides away, and he prays that he can keep himself in check, or he surrounds himself with people and prays they notice he needs help - and find a way to help him - before it’s too late. 

 

How much time does he have left?

 

The question is left unanswered, but Kimi can hear the door at the top of the garden click as it comes off the latch. Feather light footsteps carry that someone down towards the pond, and before Kimi knows it he isn’t alone anymore. 

 

Maggie’s in her pyjamas too, white with pink love heart patterns, and a pair of slippers. She has Bombo the cat clutched tightly to her chest. The same distrust for the soft toy still exists, but now there’s a voice to counter it. That voice only makes the rational part of his mind more terrified. He thought his suspicions were misplaced, but now… Now he realises that they’re real.

 

And he realises there’s nothing he can do to rectify the situation. 

 

“Did you have a nightmare too?” Maggie asks him softly. 

 

The nice thing about being home is speaking Italian. He can do it mindlessly, he doesn’t have to translate every word in his head, formulate a response, then translate it back and hope he’s been understood. He can just talk. But with the serum in his system and the voice in his head, he feels like he might as well be doing just that. Hell, he might as well be speaking Arabic. At least English is a language he knows, a language he has control over, the voice in his head is an enigma. He doesn’t know what it will say next, what it will make him do. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to resist it or if it’ll take away his agency completely.

 

“You had another nightmare?” Kimi asks, just as gently.

 

“It was about Bombo,” she nods. “She came to life and grew so big she couldn’t fit in the house anymore, and she ran away. I followed her.”

 

“Well,” Kimi begins, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You should follow Bombo wherever she goes.”

 

Those aren’t his words, and they’re words that send a chill down his spine as they pass his lips.

 

“We come outside when I have a nightmare,” Maggie explains. “She tells me to.”

 

Alarm bells are ringing in Kimi’s head, but there’s nothing he can do about it. It’s not like he can tell their parents, after all. Sebastian gave Maggie the toy for a reason, and now he’s gloating. He knows Kimi can’t do anything to stop him. He knows he’s won. Kimi’s heart is somewhere between defeated and furious at the situation when the voice whispers to him. Not a demand, but a gentle suggestion.

 

Why don’t you do something about it?

 

It’s not an invitation that Kimi needs twice.

 

He leans towards his sister and grabs Bombo from her hands, listening to her gasp in protest as he holds the soft toy by the throat. Bombo, being an inanimate object, does little against this, but Maggie beside him cries softly.

 

“Andy! Give her back!” She insists.

 

But Kimi has no intention of giving her back. This damned cat is dangerous, and he knows it! The voice confirmed it! He has to do something to keep his little sister safe! He’s keeping her safe, he’s doing the right thing!

 

With all of his might, Kimi pulls the head off Bombo. As the fabric rips and the stitches snap, Maggie shrieks. Her heartbreak pierces the night, sending owls, birds, and rodents alike scattering from where they’ve perched or decided to sleep for the night. The tears come almost immediately after the scream, Maggie reaching desperately for her beloved toy as Kimi presses on. Bombo is dangerous, and Bombo needs to be well and truly destroyed. With her head removed, he can easily pull the stuffing straight out of the toy and scatter it around them. It’s carried away by the wind, catching on the branches and leaves around them. The fabric that makes up the outside of Bombo is all that’s left in Kimi’s hands, and he throws it directly into the pond. The few fish that inhabit the small body of water aren’t particularly pleased about this.

 

They’re still happier than Maggie, though, who’s sobbing besides him. She’s crying so hard that her little face has turned red, hidden behind her hands that shake with how fierce her tears are. The noise, unsurprisingly, has woken up his parents. The upstairs windows are illuminated as their parents make their way from the bedroom, downstairs, and out of the back door to find their two children standing together at the foot of the garden.

 

The environment tells the story for them. A tearful little girl, her beloved stuffed toy torn to pieces and thrown to the water and the ground, and Kimi standing over her with his chest rising and falling and his eyes wide and wild.

 

Veronica is immediately crouching down and opening up her arms for Maggie to be comforted, whilst his father is looking at him sternly.

 

Kimi doesn’t move physically, but he feels himself shrink away on the inside.

 

You’re good at this, Andrea, the voice tells him. Why waste a talent like that?

 

“Andrea,” his father says firmly, tone mixed between disappointment and anger. “What have you done?”

 

Kimi wants to explain himself. He wants to tell his father that the toy is evil, that Sebastian is the Hornet, that he gave it to Maggie for a reason, but he can’t. He can’t say that, because the serum won’t let him say that. So instead he says nothing, just glares at his father in silence.

 

“I saw the interview,” his father tells him. “You got a fine, and then the penalty? I thought I raised you right. Humble, grounded, good. This isn’t how you should behave.”

 

He wants to cry. He’s done a good thing! The right thing! He’s protecting his sister! But all he can do is stand where he is, say absolutely nothing, and continue to glare at his father in silence.

 

“Think about who you want to become, Andrea.”

 

The caution is the last his father says to him before he walks back inside with his wife and daughter, and Kimi waits for the door to click shut before he sinks back down to the ground and puts his hands in his hair. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair! He wants to sob, but he can’t. He can pull at his hair, and he can bite the heel of his palm, but it’s not the same. Kimi doesn’t want to hurt himself, he just wants to cry. 

 

But the Hornet has smothered him, the serum growing more and more deeply entrenched in his blood, and there’s nothing he can do to rebel against what’s happening inside of him. So instead he sits in the grass, looking up at the place he’s called home for so long, waiting for the lights to turn out one by one. It feels poetic, like with each switch that’s flipped it’s a message. Once Kimi is left staring at nothing but darkness, he picks himself up off the floor and returns to his bedroom.

 

If his parents are still awake, they don’t emerge from their own room to speak to him. Kimi is alone again, and no one interferes as he starts to pick up what he’s going to need for the next few weeks. He buries the idle Pedro with jeans and t-shirts. He thought he could come home and hide here, he thought he’d be safe, but he isn’t. Or perhaps he is, but his family aren’t. No, what he needs between now and Spa is complete and utter isolation. He can’t be around anyone, especially not anyone he loves. If he is, it’s only going to end badly. He’d rather ghost the entire world than hurt the people that matter to him.

 

He’s too late for that, though. He’s already hurt his sister. 

 

If isolation is what the Hornet wants, then he’s won. He’s got what he wanted. Complete and unrestricted access to Kimi and his mind. 24/7 access to do whatever the Hell he wants. It’s not like he’ll be missed after that outburst.

 

He turns his phone off as he leaves his bedroom behind him. In the rational part of his mind - quieter than it was an hour ago - he wonders if this will be enough for someone to notice what’s happening to him. A sudden shift in his behaviour, and then to go completely missing… Surely someone will be concerned. Surely after a few days of not answering calls or texts, Sergi and Toto will put the pieces together. Surely he’ll turn up in Spa and they’ll have an antidote, they’ll be able to cure him, to save him.

 

It can’t be too late. 

 

He can’t be like him

 

+ + +

 

You have fifteen new messages. 

 

Message received at 11:27pm on 6 July.

 

“Kimi, it’s Sergi. I spoke to Toto, told him you needed to leave early. I get that you need some space, mate, but don’t just run off like that, alright? We’re a team, remember. We win together, we lose together. So just… Give me a call when you’re ready, I’ll come get you. Stay safe.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 10:07am on 8 July.

 

“Mate, it’s Sergi, just checking in on you. I haven’t heard from you in a few days, just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. I don’t know everything that happened, Toto won’t tell me how he found you, but I know it was bad. You’re not alone, Kimi. Call me.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 10:12am on 8 July. 

 

“Andrea, dove sei? Topolino, torna a casa, sono preoccupato. Non c'è nessun biglietto, nessun messaggio, non so dove sei. Se si tratta di ieri sera, non preoccuparti. Non siamo arrabbiati. Sebastian si è offerto di sostituire Bombo. Torna a casa, Andrea.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 1:24pm on 8 July.

 

“Kimi, sono tuo padre. Torna a casa. Hai ferito i sentimenti di tua sorella ieri sera, ma devi solo scusarti. Tua madre è preoccupata per te. Torna a casa, o chiamala.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 5:43pm on 8 July.

 

“Kimi? Look, mate, your parents are calling me. They’re worried about you, said you were acting out last night and that you disappeared by the time they woke up. I need you to call someone. I don’t care if it’s me, if it’s your family, but we need to know you’re safe.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 8:37pm on 8 July.

 

“It’s Toto. The spare bedroom is still available if you need somewhere to go. Call your mother.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 11:42am on 9 July. 

 

“Hi Kimi… It’s Ollie… I haven’t heard from you in a few days and I thought maybe I’d done something wrong, maybe the stunt with the Silver Spider showing up hurt you, but I promise I didn’t seek him out! It was Esteban’s idea! Okay, sorry, um, your parents called and asked if you were staying with me. I said yes, and your mother asked if she could talk to you, so I panicked and hung up. She’s called me twelve times since. Is everything okay? She seems really scared and I realised I haven’t heard from you in a while and now I’m scared. Are you okay? I miss you, Kimi.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 12:03pm on 9 July.

 

“Topolino, non hai ancora risposto alle mie chiamate! Oliver sta mentendo sul fatto che tu sia a Monaco. Devo chiamare la polizia? Chiamerò di nuovo Toto.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 3:17pm on 9 July.

 

“I can’t keep lying to your mother, Kimi, she’s starting to see through them. Call her.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 9:14am on 11 July.

 

“Kimi, it’s George. We had a team meeting this morning, mate, where are you? Toto said you had other things to attend to and Sergi looked uncomfortable. I’ve just watched Bono grill them both in a corridor. Is something going on? I know we’re teammates, and maybe it’s a bit weird, but you can talk to me. I mean it. Give me a ring if you can.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 9:16am on 11 July.

 

“Everything alright, buddy? It’s Bono. You weren’t at the meeting this morning, and Toto and Sergi are acting… Off. Give me a bell, just to let me know you’re okay.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 7:34am on 14 July.

 

“Kimi, it’s Sergi. Mate, this is getting really concerning. It’s been a week. I convinced your mother you’re at a training camp in the Canaries again, sent her some old videos. She’s calmed down, but I’m not. Call me.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 10:31am on 18 July.

 

“Andrea, it’s Toto. This has gone on long enough. Call someone.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 1:11pm on 20 July. 

 

“Kimi, so che sei impegnata, ma chiama tua madre. Non crede a Sergi.”

 

Message deleted. Next message. Message received at 9:02am on 21 July.

 

“It’s Toto. Valtteri is on standby for the weekend if you aren’t in Spa by Wednesday. We’ll withdraw you from the weekend and call the police. Text me if you get this, please. We’re not angry, we’re worried.”

 

Message deleted. You have no new messages.

 

+ + +

 

Francorchamps, Belgium
Friday 25 July 2025

 

Despite Kimi’s lack of response over the last two and a half weeks, Toto was waiting for him when he arrived at the airport in Brussels. He’d practically been manhandled into the back of a car and scolded the entire drive to Francorchamps. So much for not being angry, the voice in his head tells him. And Kimi… 

 

Kimi feels small. Kimi feels angry. Kimi feels frightened. Kimi feels alone.

 

It was impossible to tell if the time alone did anything to preserve his mind, because in the blink of an eye anything he’d retained evaporated. His emotions aren’t his, his thoughts felt crammed into an ever shrinking portion of his head. When he looked out of his eyes, it’s like he was dissociating. The world around him had never felt more distant.  

 

Toto drove him to the hotel and helped him to his room, which Kimi was thankful for. Kimi showed no gratitude whatsoever to the kindness of his boss. Once he was alone, he’d collapsed into his bed and lay there - ignoring the notifications, the calls, the knocks at his door. 

 

All through Thursday he performed his media duties obediently, but nothing more. He went to the media pen and spoke his rehearsed lines - which in and of itself felt like an improvement after Silverstone. He didn’t stop to sign hats, he didn’t hang around for photos, he just went straight back to his room. He didn’t even make a detour to see his parents or sister, who’ve come to the track specifically to see him, given his recent reluctance to return phone calls. 

 

But now it’s Friday morning, and the weekend is really getting started. It’s not about performing for the circus anymore, it’s about performing in the car. 

 

He’s still ignoring his phone - the notifications have piled up and up to the point that the little red numbers in the corner of all his apps have maxed out. He’s still ignoring his friends and his family. And it’s a conscious decision, one of the few things he still does have control over. If he went to reply, he knows the Hornet will just overrule whatever it is he wants to say. By not replying at all, maybe someone will notice his absence. Clearly they’ve noticed enough to be persistent in their attempts to contact him. Maybe, eventually, questions will be asked. Maybe someone will figure it out. He hasn’t been so lucky yet, but maybe things will change now he’s around people. Maybe being alone was the wrong decision.

 

It doesn’t feel like the wrong decision, though.

 

He glares and snarls when people greet him, he frowns when they smile, and the screaming inside his mind remains inside his mind. No one can hear his cries for help as he walks through the paddock, no one can see his pleas for attention, for rescue. With every passing moment he’s running out of time, and he doesn’t know what happens when time finally comes to pass. Will his consciousness be snuffed out entirely? Will he cease to exist and this new version of himself will take over entirely? Will he become that new person? Will he just die?!

 

After weeks of being trapped in his own mind, the existential thoughts have become background noise to the whispers and shouts of the voice inside his head.

 

In his driver room, his decline is less obvious. There’s no one to glare at, no media to harass, the feeling in his brain doesn’t go away but, outwardly, he’s the same Kimi as always - preparing for a practice session. It’s a Sprint weekend, which means there’s Qualifying in the afternoon and a Sprint Race tomorrow. Normally he likes a Sprint weekend, but today… Today he’s terrified. His decline had already begun in Silverstone, and he’s got penalty points on his licence to prove it, but it’s been three weeks since he’s been in a car and he doesn’t know how much less control he’ll have over what happens to him. To be a passenger in a Formula 1 car, not sure of when (or even if) he’s going to brake, is something he doesn’t want to think about too hard.

 

He drops his bag on the table and watches as the contents spill out. Pedro, his forgotten friend, one such item that rolls over the surface. Even with a serum in his blood, he can’t help but reach out to turn the little fella on and snatch his watch to talk to him.

 

[PEDRO WISHES THE SILVER SPIDER A GOOD MORNING!]

 

Kimi doesn’t say a word, glaring at the watch face with a huff. He places it back down on the table and keeps one eye on it as he starts to change into his driver suit.

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER IS ACTING CONTRARY TO TYPICALLY OBSERVED BEHAVIOURS!]

 

Pulling on his fireproofs, that’s enough to make him snort out a slight laugh. 

 

[IS THE SILVER SPIDER SICK? PEDRO CAN IDENTIFY SUITABLE REMEDIES FOR COLDS, FLUS, ACHES, AND PAINS!]

 

“The Silver Spider,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Has no interest in talking to you.”

 

[TO CONSERVE ENERGY, PEDRO WILL RE ENTER IDLE MODE!]

 

The little metal lump jolts slightly into the air as his eight legs shoot back up into his body, his eyes blinking shut. When he lands, his body spins like a coin until it settles on the surface. Kimi raises an eyebrow. 

 

There’s so much to learn about that droid.

 

Kimi pulls his race suit up over his hips and ties the arms together around his waist to hold it in place, and as he does he can hear something. Something loud. His teammate.

 

George is in his driver room, moving, playing music, preparing himself for his own session. Just the thought of him is enough to make his head throb.

 

He feels another wave of anger wash over him, and this time he lets that wave encourage him to step forward. He leaves his room, balls his hand up into a fist, and bangs aggressively on the door of his neighbour. The music stops, and a moment later George appears before him. He’s smiling, until he sees the daggers Kimi is glaring at him.

 

“Woah, Kimi! Who’s got your knickers in a twist?!” 

 

Over the last few months, Kimi’s learned a few Britishisms - enough to get him through a day with George. He’s also learned how to let them bounce right off him when he doesn’t understand them. He overlooks the odd phrase, and instead focuses on his anger.

 

“Can you be quiet?!” He demands, unblinking as he speaks.

 

He watches his older teammate consider this request for a moment. Clearly he’s processing the strange behaviour he’s witnessing - his usually cheery teammate borderline threatening him must be a sight to see. After the secrecy of everything that happened in Silverstone, the way he acted out on and off track, and the fact that he’s been missing for almost three weeks, he can only wonder what questions are going through George’s mind.

 

George doesn’t know anything, though. Any questions he’s asking, the right ones would never cross his mind. He doesn’t know about the kidnapping, the almost healed wounds on his wrist, his superpowers. He doesn’t know anything about how the last few months of his life have unfolded. Kimi is screaming inside his own head, begging that George somehow figures it out. 

 

“Alright,” he says instead. “I can be quieter. Sorry, mate.”

 

He looks uncomfortable. Kimi takes a step forwards, crossing the threshold into his room.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, is everything alright?” George asks, curious eyes following Kimi. “No one’s seen you in ages. Toto was talking to Valtteri on Monday afternoon. I thought something might have happened.”

 

Kimi runs his tongue over his teeth, then pulls his tongue back between them slowly. He steels his jaw and he watches George closely, his teammate walking a tightrope between concern and fear as he meets his gaze. George steps back, unsettled by the look in Kimi’s eyes. 

 

“Alright?” He repeats. “I’m fine.” 

 

“It’s just…” He steps back again, scrambling for the right words. “You wanted me to be quiet. Maybe the crash in Austria… Do you need painkillers?”

 

“I said I’m fine,” Kimi reinforces firmly.

 

His body isn’t without pain - his shoulder aches with a dull pain and his wrists still itch from where they were sliced open - but that isn’t what he’s here for. He scans the room as he ventures deeper in. He’s never been inside George’s driver room, and his assertive new personality is as good of a reason as any to explore it. It’s a little bigger than his own, but there’s not many other differences to speak of. His bag sits on the side, there’s a few spare team shirts and another set of fireproofs and race suit in the wardrobe, a book on the table alongside some Percy Pigs he’s smuggled in past Aleix. Nothing particularly interesting, nothing that can be used against him.

 

Unless he gets creative, that is.

 

Kimi snatches the bag of sweets from the table, lips twitching upward just a smidge when he spots George jump in the corner of his eye.

 

“Can I have those back?” He asks unsurely. “I don’t mind sharing them.”

“No,” Kimi tells him coldly.

 

Once again, he finds George’s gaze, and he holds it. He opens up the bag, taking one of the Percy Pigs, and he places it on his tongue. It’s far too sweet for his liking after a lifetime of highly restricted meal plans, too sticky and chewy to enjoy, so he spits it out on the floor and turns the bag upside down to dump the rest of them with it. He stomps down hard, twisting his foot, grinding them into the carpet with all of his weight.

 

“See you on the track.”

 

Kimi scrunches up the plastic packaging in his hand and, as he leaves the room, he drops it into the small recycling bin beside the door. He stalks away from hospitality and towards the garage to get ready for the singular Practice session of the weekend. He gives little consideration for his mechanics and engineers as he moves through the garage, but before he gets the opportunity to settle beside Bono, he’s being tapped on the shoulder by a smiling Doriane Pin.

 

“Bonjour, Kimi,” she says brightly.

 

Kimi doesn’t respond, except for an eye roll, and he kicks the walls of his brain as he continues to Bono’s side in silence. He doesn’t get a chance to see the look on her face, and he’s quietly glad for that. 

 

It is, as usual for Spa, raining. The whole weekend is expected to be wet, and a small part of Kimi is chomping at the bit to get going. If nothing else, that’s a sign that not all of him has been stamped out of existence just yet. He pulls his headphones over his ears to listen to the run plan for the next hour - long runs at the start of the session to dial in his set up, moving to Qualifying simulations in the last ten to twelve minutes. Nothing special or unusual, nothing that the voice in his head should be able to significantly mess with. He pulls his headphones off and pulls on his balaclava, Sergi taking his place to help him put on his helmet and plug into the various bits and pieces of the car to make sure his radio and drink are working.

 

Sergi’s eyes have a certain weight to them, and Kimi ignores the way his gaze attempts to bore deep into his soul. Even if he’s screaming and shouting on the inside, outwardly there’s no sign of any kind of weakness at all. There’s a strange tension in the air, his attitude and actions charging the atmosphere around him. It’s like the rain isn’t enough, it’s like lightning is preparing to strike.

 

Once he’s in the car, Kimi is promptly waved out of the garage. He stops the car at the end of the pit lane and watches the red light like a hawk, relief flooding him with the knowledge that - for the most part - he’s going to be able to make it through the parts of the weekend in the car unharmed. He has control. The serum isn’t going to send him hurtling around the circuit backwards and flying down Eau Rouge… He blinks the thought out of his mind, not wanting the serum to get any ideas, and as red becomes green he accelerates out of the pits to start his programme.

 

No one is waiting around. The nature of a Sprint weekend means that everyone is out on track at the earliest possible opportunity, desperate for whatever information they can claw from this singular hour of practice before the stakes are raised for the rest of the weekend. Kimi follows his plan religiously, and at a circuit he’s comfortable with and in conditions he loves, he feels confident. Even with the car needing a few small set up tweaks, even with a voice in his head and a rapidly disintegrating level of control, he feels confident. In fact, driving around the track almost makes him feel more like himself. He’s finding the limits of where he can push his car, going over the kerbs but keeping the car out of the gravel. 

 

His long runs come to an end when an Alpine finds the gravel, and his team makes the changes to his rear wing. It’s a short red flag, thankfully, and when Kimi’s car is once again fat with fuel he’s sent out on a fresh set of tyres for his Qualifying runs. Most other cars join him, save for the stranded Alpine and the two Saubers that have been stuck in the garage all session with an electrical issue. Kimi’s putting in decent laps, his pace improving as the fuel burns away with every lap, but the rest of the grid are improving around him too. 

 

As he makes his way through Sector 2, on a slower lap with seven minutes still to go in the session, Bono’s in his ear telling him that Verstappen is approaching behind on a fast lap. He’s counting down the seconds as the gap between them quickly decreases, and coming out of Pouhon is the perfect place to peel off the racing line to get out of the way and let Max past. 

 

But he doesn’t. He stays on the racing line, forcing Max to go around him. And when Max does go around him, Kimi turns his wheel and moves his car directly into Max.

 

The steering wheel jerks abruptly in his hands as the two cars come together, his front tyres briefly leaving the ground then crashing back down as his suspension snaps cleanly in two. Both cars skid across the track and onto the wet grass, only coming to a halt when they hit the wall. They’ve lost so much speed already that the final collision is barely noticeable.

 

In his head he’s screaming, he’s crying, he’s beyond upset with himself. Why did he do that? What did he gain from it? Why? Why? Why?! The way the serum makes him act makes no logical sense, but perhaps that’s the point. 

 

“You okay, Kimi?” Bono’s voice chimes in over the radio, and Kimi replies quickly.

 

“I’m okay,” he confirms. 

 

His voice is cool, calm, and collected. He’s not even breathing heavily. No one would think he’d been driving, let alone involved in a crash, if the evidence wasn’t so plain for all to see.

 

“Alright, the track’s been red flagged. The marshals will tell you when you can get out, so just listen to their instructions mate.”

 

Kimi pulls his radio out, cutting Bono off, and the tube for his water. He undoes his seatbelt and removes his steering wheel, not bothering to wait for permission to exit the car. The marshals are already running across the grass towards both him and his unsuspecting victim in Max Verstappen. The man is climbing out of his car, and even with his helmet still on Kimi can see just how pissed off he is. 

 

His heart sinks. Max has always been a driver he’s looked up to, and he’s let him down. No, he’s not let him down, he’s well and truly angered him. Whatever camaraderie they’d built up over the first half of the season, it’s gone now. Max is furious, and Kimi stands his ground defiantly. He clenches his hands into fists at his sides as if he’s ready to fight.

 

“What the fuck did you do that for?!” Max shouts as he approaches angrily.

 

His hands are gesticulating quickly, his eyes wide as adrenaline keeps pumping through his body and drives him onwards. Max gestures to demonstrate how he was coming out of the corner and how Kimi turned into him, and he pulls his gloves off like he’s ready to throw a punch. Kimi… He just stands there. He keeps his feet firmly planted in the oversaturated ground, he lets the rain fall down on his helmet, he refuses to back down or even buckle as Max continues to approach him. He doesn’t let himself look afraid, he doesn’t make himself small.

 

By the time that Max is in front of him, Kimi can see the expression in his eyes shift. His reaction, clearly, has unsettled the senior driver. Kimi smirks in his helmet.

 

He wants to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, he wants to sob and explain everything, he wants to plead with Max to help him.

 

Instead, he just raises an arm and pushes his shoulder firmly. 

 

Kimi watches as Max’s expression changes, and for a moment there’s a flash of darkness in his eyes - a consideration of retaliation. He bites his lip, almost daring him to do something, to take it up a level, but Max ends up electing to just storm right past him. He marches behind the barrier and takes the moped back to the pits. Kimi is left with the option of walking, or waiting to be picked up.

 

He decides to walk, helmet still on, feeling cocky and full of himself and broken and remorseful.

 

By the time he makes it back to the pits the team have already got his car back and have begun work to fix it before the Qualifying session later. Luckily, after the last few races, the team have had plenty of opportunities to fix his damaged car - it’s becoming somewhat of a regular occurrence. He spots Max, already surrounded by journalists, berating and belittling Kimi to the world media. A stupid, irresponsible, dangerous rookie. Too big for his boots. 

 

Kimi, unsurprisingly, has been summoned to see the Stewards for what he’s done.

 

Anger bubbles beneath the surface, but the voice in his head this time tries to keep him in check. He only thinks you’re dangerous because you’re powerful, it tells him enticingly. We can be powerful together. Don’t waste your fury on them.

 

He ignores his team when they come to him, aside from offering up his helmet to Sergi. There’s confusion on their faces as to why the accident even took place: Bono’s radio messages clearly informed Kimi of Max’s progress. As his race engineer tries to dissect what happened to keep it from happening again, Kimi just looks at Toto. There’s disappointment on his face, but that isn’t it, there’s something else behind his eyes too.

 

It doesn’t matter. He ignores it all. When he goes to see the Stewards, his attitude isn’t much better, and for that he’s awarded a hefty fine, a grid drop, and a couple more penalty points for his licence. He storms darkly back to his driver room, ignoring the notifications on his phone (which now include a few dozen angry texts from George and Max after the respective incidents). Instagram is filled with hateful comments towards him, articles questioning his rapid rise already being posted online after what’s being described as a ‘childish incident’. Kimi casts his eyes over their words, he fuels the anger in his blood, until he finds the strength to throw his phone to the other side of the room. It lands on the floor, and he doesn’t bother to check whether or not it’s broken, he just uses it as an opportunity to take a nap before Qualifying.

 

His dreams twist into nightmares, as has become commonplace. He’s drowning, he’s crashing, his sister is in danger, he’s being tortured within an inch of his life. He’s trapped inside himself, suffocated by the control the Hornet has over him. Every way he turns is darkness, everywhere he runs is danger. He wakes up more exhausted than when he went to sleep, Sergi knocking at the door telling him it’s time for his warm up.

 

He sits up slowly, takes a small breath, and lets out the tiniest of whimpers. It’s imperceptibly quiet - so quiet that his trainer can’t even hear him on the other side of the paper thin walls. Kimi crosses the room and checks his phone (cracked, but still working), before he opens the door to let Sergi in. 

 

In an instant, his demeanour changes. His exhaustion is gone, the lingering fear from the nightmares is gone, replaced with quiet, simmering rage. Kimi doesn’t say a word to his trainer throughout his warm up, and he doesn’t thank his team when it comes to slipping into the car for Qualifying. 

 

Everything he did over the last few weeks to try and remain sane has come to naught. He has no control, he’s vulnerable, and he’s scared. Still, no one knows anything is wrong. And still, no one is coming to save him. 

 

+ + +

 

Liège, Belgium
Friday 25 July 2025

 

The rest of Kimi’s afternoon was uneventful in either way. His qualifying was disappointing, and with the grid drop he’ll be lining up P8 on the grid tomorrow for the Sprint Race, but he managed to avoid receiving any further penalties. Unsurprisingly, no one wanted to be particularly close to him on the track. The same could be said for the paddock, too. He’s been avoided not just by the other drivers, but by his team. His glares, the lack of appreciation for fixing his car, and his general attitude has put them off him. Sergi had brought dinner to his room, but it’s been left almost entirely untouched.

 

Not because he wasn’t hungry, but because ninety minutes ago his wrist started to tingle. 

 

Ninety minutes ago, he was climbing out of his hotel room.

 

And ninety minutes ago, he started to swing through the trees and the fields surrounding his hotel under the cover of darkness. 

 

He landed on the top of a truck and stayed there, laying flat on his back to keep himself out of sight, as he slowly made his journey ever closer to an unknown destination. 

 

None of this has been within Kimi’s control. As soon as his wrist started to tingle, he became nothing more than a passenger. He’s still a shell of himself, watching on helplessly as the truck starts to slow down. The vast expanse of stars above his head are traded in for light pollution and tall buildings, and the wind in his hair is suddenly absent as the truck begins to stop and start, stop and start, caught up in traffic and seemingly stopping at every red light. He waits - or at least, his body does - until the vehicle comes to a complete stop before he climbs down swiftly. The truck is parked in an alleyway, the driver out with his manifesto to speak to the owner of the establishment the delivery is being made to, and Kimi can sneak away relatively unseen. 

 

In the crowds of the city, Kimi is a stranger. Even with his Mercedes hoodie on, people don’t notice him. People, of course, don’t expect a Formula 1 driver to be mingling in the crowd at this stage of a race weekend, so they don’t bother to look for him. Even if they think his hair is recognisable, or his nose is uncanny, no one puts the pieces together until he’s walked far enough away that they can’t run after him and ask for a selfie or an autograph. After his recent media outbursts, he’d be surprised if anyone did that anyway.

 

His feet carry him over a bridge across the Meuse, away from the bustle of the city into a quieter, older section. The path is cobblestone rather than tarmac, blades of grass pushing up beneath his feet. Whereas everything was grey a moment ago, now there’s trees and grass even in the middle of the roundabout. On a bright day, there would be hours before the streetlights flickered to life, but with clouds so dark overhead there’s little surprise that the streets are already illuminated with an orange glow. Old brick buildings look like an oil painting in the light, raindrops splashing into puddles.

 

Kimi sits down on a little bench, and he waits.

 

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for.

 

Kimi observes the scene around him as he waits. He watches as ripples spread outwards in circular patterns in the puddle by his feet. He watches as people walk past: families with children laughing and playing; teenagers walking hand in hand and drinking from bottles; friends with takeout boxes; people on their phones. Some people have their coats on, zipped all the way to their mouths with their hoods hiding their faces. Some people hold umbrellas over themselves or their partners. Some people embrace the rain, laughing in a way that reminds Kimi of a Natasha Bedingfield song that he heard George singing along to a few weeks ago. He remembers being amused by it then, he doesn’t find it quite so funny now.

 

The rain intensifies, but Kimi makes no move to try and seek shelter even as those around him run into their homes, into cafes that are still open, into taxis to carry them to their destinations. He just sits on the little bench, and he waits.

 

Eventually, his patience is rewarded. A new figure walks out of the dull surroundings, carrying a thin paper bag that seems to be disintegrating by the second. He recognises the man beside him, though he isn’t the Hornet, and he isn’t Sebastian Vettel. At first, he’s perplexed as to why the person that’s come to greet him isn’t the man he was silently expecting, but it starts to fall into place as his old karting mentor places the bag between them.

 

“This is for you,” he says simply. “You know what to do?”

 

Kimi finds himself nodding his head, even if he doesn’t know what to do. The serum clearly does, the voice inside of him obviously knows, and Kimi is utterly unable to do anything to stop the situation from unfolding.

 

As quickly as the man arrived, he’s leaving. He pats a hand on Kimi’s shoulder as he walks away, in the opposite direction than that he’d come from, and Kimi feels his body frozen in place as he waits. He looks down, peering into the bag, and he sees an almost familiar piece of fabric staring back at him. His suit. Once the man disappears down one of the many side streets, far enough away to no longer be associated with Kimi or his actions, Kimi gets to his feet and wraps his hand around the bag’s handles. When they snap, he pulls the bag to his chest and holds it tightly against his hoodie, keeping his head ducked as he walks in a third direction to find somewhere sheltered enough to change.

 

An empty playground, deserted at this hour and in this weather, to the west of the roundabout provides the perfect spot. He makes his way through, clambering into the bushes behind the swing set, and he crouches down to remain hidden as he opens up the bag to change into his suit. 

 

It feels the same, fitting his body perfectly. It’s cool on the inside, but more importantly it’s dry. When he steps into his boots, they feel the same too. And when he pulls on his mask, it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air, like coming home. Everything hugs him just right, a sensation he’s quietly been yearning for, and as he adjusts to the feeling of his altered vision and heavier boots, he looks down at himself to play a quick game of spot the difference.

 

Rather than a dark grey base, the body of the suit is jet black. The teal sections have vanished entirely, replaced with a deep purple. The silver embellishments are more refined than before. His wrist straps have been returned to him as well, which means his webs will still have the same reinforced qualities as he’s gotten used to. As he affixes them in place, he looks back down into the not quite empty bag to observe the additional gifts that have been bestowed upon him.

 

There’s a belt full of goodies that he’s sure will become self explanatory when the time to use them arrives, and he wraps it around his waist and fastens it securely. In the back of his mind, he’s horrified. Anything given to him by the Hornet and his ally can only be expected to be used for evil. But in the front of his mind, his gloved hands run over the various trinkets and he feels a surge of electricity run through him. It’s exactly what the voice told him before: he’s powerful. 

 

As Kimi goes to stuff his clothes back into the bag and bury it in the bushes to return for later, he feels a lump of something in his pocket. He reaches back into his hoodie and searches for the source of that lump quickly. It isn’t his phone - even in his current state he’s wise enough not to bring his phone with him - but instead… Two little charms. An old car, and a teddy bear. 

 

Something in the back of his mind takes hold and he clutches onto the charms tightly, opting to clip them to his belt rather than stuff them back, and he finally gets to his feet. He starts walking on autopilot out of the bushes and away from the park, and as he does he sees a series of messages appearing in the corner of his vision.

 

[PEDRO HAS BEEN ALERTED THAT THE SILVER SPIDER IS WEARING HIS MASK!]

 

[PEDRO WISHES TO REMIND THE SILVER SPIDER TO STAY OUT OF DANGER!]

 

[PEDRO DOES NOT KNOW WHERE THE SILVER SPIDER IS!]

 

[PEDRO IS ALONE!]

 

[DO NOT LEAVE PEDRO!]

 

The messages, thankfully, seem to fade away after a few moments, which makes ignoring them as he walks through the city an awful lot easier. Normally he’d swing, he’d travel as quickly as he could to get to wherever he’s going, but the serum has something different in mind for him. Walking means he’s amongst people, which means people spot him and gasp. There’s whispers, cameras pointed at him, comments made about the slightly different colour scheme of his suit and the strange demeanour that he carries with him. Rather than his presence being comforting and reassuring - a sign that whatever bad is about to happen, everything is going to be okay - people appear to be unnerved by him.

 

Good. 

 

He ignores everyone, pushing past those that step close and ask for a selfie. He’s a man on a mission, he knows exactly where he’s going and is intent on marching there in good time. Kimi, though, has no idea where he’s going. He’s beating on the walls of his mind like a tiger trapped in a cage, unable to do anything but watch as he’s followed towards his destination, a place that only becomes clear to him the closer he gets.

 

The train station in the centre of the city is an engineering marvel. Looming over the horizon, the curved steel structure is constructed of thousands of individual glass panes, and a large concourse of grey space in front of the entrance makes up the approach. It’s a wide, modern structure that sticks out of its environment like a sore thumb. It doesn’t match at all to the forest behind it, nor to the old brick buildings either side of it, and even the more modern collection of structures in front of the station seem to have been designed by an entirely different mind. There’s no cohesion, no style. It’s a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces fit together, but the pictures on the tiles are completely opposing. 

 

Despite the fact that it’s just after 9pm, the place is bustling. Dozens of trains pass through an hour, thousands of passengers use the station every day, and a lot of those passengers seem to be present at the moment. Trains have just left for Ostend and Eupen, and trains from Brussels and destined for Frankfurt will be arriving in the next few minutes. They’re the last big trains for the evening, which means the busy concourse will be a ghost town in short order. 

 

This, Kimi assumes, is business as usual for a station like Liège on a Friday night, though he imagines that there’s extra demand given that a Grand Prix is taking place this weekend just 40 kilometres away. A lot of people will have already arrived and enjoyed the action, but there’ll be more pouring into the track until the climax of the weekend on Sunday. 

 

He enters the station with the crowd, still attracting looks from those around him, but with less intensity now. People focus on him briefly, only to be quickly distracted as a voice rings out over the Tannoy system to inform passengers of trains arriving and departing, what platforms will take people where. The place is almost overflowing, a gridlock of people trying to get to where they need to go. Some are being transported to their friends and families, some are off on new and brilliant adventures. Children are preparing for their first trip to the airport, their first time travelling abroad to a foreign country. Young adults are visiting friends they’ve made at university. Hen dos and Stag parties are making their way boisterously towards the closest place serving liquor. Every passenger has a purpose for travelling, a thousand different emotions surge as heartbreak and hope tell the stories of every stranger to bump into another.

 

Kimi, in this crowd, is just like the rest of them. He’s a stranger, he’s brimming with emotions he can’t quite express and he’s carrying baggage that’s invisible to the naked eye. Even if he could, would he do that here?

 

He hates the way that his arm moves, subtly reaching for his side, fingers moving expertly over the new tools he’s been given to play with. He hates the fact that he’s surveying his surroundings as he makes his way up a flight of stairs and onto a bridge that crosses a multitude of train tracks. The platforms are just as crowded as the rest of the station. There must’ve been an influx of cancellations earlier in the day, because there’s no way that this many people have booked seat reservations on the few remaining trains. It’ll be standing room only until the end of the line. 

 

Kimi stops midway across the bridge, directly above several train tracks. Busy platforms stand either side of him as he watches on, trains pulling in from opposite directions. Loud beeps accompany the sound of doors unlocking and opening up, and Kimi watches as people pour out of their trains onto the already overcrowded platforms. The noise of the station grows to a cacophony as people attempt to move through the various blockades, the new arrivals dragging luggage behind them to search for connections, taxis, and loved ones to reunite with. 

 

He takes a breath as his fingers come to a halt, identifying exactly what he needs from his belt. It’s small, and metal, and cold. When he plucks it from his side he looks down, utterly unmoved on the surface as he considers his next move.

 

No, that’s not quite true. Whilst he’s screaming in the deepest corner of his mind, he gives the action no consideration whatsoever. He looks out once more to the crowded platforms, to the full trains, and he leans over the edge of the bridge. Not very far, he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he has to, just far enough to drop the little metal device casually after he pulls the pin out of it.

 

In amongst the noise, Kimi hears the crunch of it landing against gravel, bouncing until it finds a spot to settle. He walks away, making it back to the stairs and starting to descend when the explosion goes off.

 

As the station rattles, Kimi’s ears ring. He’s thrown momentarily off balance, but quickly recentres himself and resumes his walk downstairs without so much as blinking.

 

The same can’t be said for the other inhabitants of the station.

 

Despite its small size, the explosion that’s generated is entirely disproportionate. The little bomb starts a chain reaction, one where the heat of the explosion is enough to trigger a further sequence of explosions that ripple out like the droplets in the puddles by the bench. Fire breaks out in the blink of an eye, hot flames immediately consuming anything in their reach. Shrapnel is sent flying, piercing soft flesh and hard shelled suitcases alike. 

 

A second is like a lifetime to a Formula 1 driver, and so it takes a lifetime for anyone around him to react. 

 

When they do, they scream in pain, in fear, in shock. They try to run, but they can’t. They’re too injured to flee, the infrastructure is too damaged to facilitate an escape, there’s too many people to avoid a stampede. Debris rains down - glass from the ceiling, gravel from the ground, and fragments of trains. The tracks have been warped by the force of the explosion and the trains, quickly becoming charred remnants of vehicles, have been tipped onto their sides. There’s thick plumes of black smoke as people try to escape in vain.

 

Kimi keeps walking.

 

He can hear children crying, and can only imagine the horrors they’re witnessing - memories carving into the grey matter of their brains to never be forgotten. They’ll never forget this moment, the burns on their skin won’t be the only scars they carry. 

 

It’s impossible to tell how many people have perished, how many are hurt, and how many more will join both camps by the time it’s all said and done. Those that are on the right side of the bridge are able to run, to flee out the front, and some brave souls approach him with desperate pleas. That their elderly mother is trapped beneath a door that was flung from a train carriage, that their friend took a lump of shrapnel to their eye and can’t see, that their child fell from the platform edge and their leg is now crushed beneath an overturned train carriage. 

 

He pushes them all away, ignores their cries for help. He ignores the station staff looking to him for guidance, what to do in a situation like this. Kimi just keeps walking, striding confidently out of the station and perching on the edge of a fountain as he finally turns around and allows himself to look at his handiwork.

 

The grand structure has been destroyed, the glass shattered and the steel beams warped. Those able to run have already fled, filming what’s unfolding and calling the emergency services for help. The people leaving the station now are considerably more injured: limping with blood running down their heads and legs, burns on their hands, their clothes singed beyond recognition. Their phone calls are to their loved ones, saying goodbye in case they don’t make it.

 

It’s a symphony to his ears, and Kimi leans back for a moment - only jolting upright again when he leans too far and there’s a jet of water shooting against him.

 

He composes himself with a deep breath as the sound of distant sirens fills his ears. Firefighters, police, and ambulances are on their way. With the scale of what has happened, there’s little they’re going to be able to do. It’ll be a case of damage limitation. People are already dead, and many more will die.

 

In the depths of his mind, where a small part of him still exists, Kimi is aware that until now, no one has died. People have been hurt, and scared, but there have been no reported deaths from any of the Hornet’s attacks. The first blood this villain has spilled is not just on the Hornet’s hands, but on his own.

 

Rather than dwell on that fact, Kimi’s hands reach once more to his belt to identify the next tool to help with the task at hand. The time it isn’t a grenade, though he does have a few more of those dangling around his waist if he needs them, but is instead a crossbow. It’s smaller than he was expecting, compact enough that he can hold it with one hand, but the mechanics of the weapon function in the same fashion as a full sized bow. Conveniently, it’s been given to him loaded with the first bit of ammunition - a small arrow with a painfully sharp tip, and a sticky amber fluid that resembles whatever was used against him in Silverstone.

 

As emergency vehicles arrive at the scene, Kimi calmly gets to his feet and points the weapon at the first police officer he sees, forefinger twitching enough to pull the trigger. The arrow that’s shot from the device lands in her shoulder, and in less time than it took him to fall in Silverstone she’s on the ground and paralysed from the effects of whatever has entered her bloodstream.

 

The direct attack on one of their own, and the dire consequences of the attack, send the rest of the responders running back for cover. There’s shouts coordinating the retreat, paramedics using their ambulance doors as hiding spots and police radioing for armed backup. Kimi smiles behind his mask, chuckling softly that they thought they’d be able to deal with a situation like this without guns in the first place.

 

It’s clear that the plan is to cower until Kimi can be contained, but Kimi has no plans to be contained. Besides, he’s done his job. People are dead, chaos is afoot, and the rescue effort has been hampered. He can leave now, head held high, knowing that the world will know that the Silver Spider is no longer a force for good, a saviour, a beacon of hope in a terrifying time. 

 

As he prepares himself to vacate the concourse, he finds his attention is pulled upwards by the arrival of a new figure. Dropping in from above, wings beating hard against the air to keep him from colliding with the floor as a deadly velocity, is the Hornet. He lands only a few feet in front of him, staring wide eyed at the already terrified emergency responders. When he offers a wave, they flinch as one, and all the screams in the world aren’t enough to drown out his sickening voice as he speaks.

 

“Lovely evening,” the Hornet comments.

 

Fire rains down around them, the actual rain nowhere near enough to extinguish such a dramatic and sudden blaze. A gloved hand reaches for his shoulder and squeezes tightly, and as Kimi looks up to the Hornet he can see a smile behind his mask. The Hornet reaches out with his other hand, index and middle finger coming together beneath his chin to tilt his head back.

 

“My new protégé,” he whispers affectionately. “You’re a natural.” 

 

A chill runs down Kimi’s spine as the Hornet’s hands drop away from him, the villain turning on his heels and looking towards the crowd.

 

“We will be leaving now,” he explains.

 

Police officers have risen with weapons trained on the pair of them, but the Hornet doesn’t seem afraid. So Kimi, in turn, isn’t afraid either. He stares fearlessly, tilting his head as if to dare them to try something, whilst the Hornet returns his attention to Kimi. A hand moves to his waist, fingers brushing his suit-covered stomach as he takes one of the explosives from his belt. He withdraws the pin and drops it on the ground by their feet, kicking it directly back into the crowd.

 

The guns on them fall away as the grenade is identified and everyone becomes focused on fleeing to safety, which provides the two of them with the opportunity they need to make a hasty exit. The Hornet grabs Kimi by the arms, his wings starting to beat against the air, and the pair rise high above the ground and start to fly away. Kimi watches the world beneath them as they fly, the city streets almost invisible thanks to the smoke pouring from the station. At least he can tell where the station is - something that becomes even easier when there’s a flash of light and a fireball hurtling up towards them. 

 

Kimi feels warmth wash over his feet as the flames lick at his shoes, but they’re quickly leaving the city. The Hornet is taking him back to his hotel - the fact that he even knows where he’s staying is terrifying to the small part of Kimi’s brain that’s still his to control - and before the hour is out he’s back in his room. His team, right now, has no idea that he’s even left. They’ll figure it out in the morning when they wake up and see the news. For now, all Kimi can do is pull his charms from his belt and tuck them back into his bag, then change into his pyjamas and lie on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

 

He killed people. His hands are covered with blood. People are gone from the world forever, and it’s all his fault.

 

+ + +

 

Francorchamps, Belgium
Saturday 26 July 2025

 

Kimi awakes to the sound of little metal legs scuttling across the desk. He’s not had a nightmare, which has left him feeling adequately rested for the first time in weeks, but as he sits up to observe his surroundings he finds himself staring at his trainer. Sergi, in all the years that Kimi has known him, has never looked so angry.

 

Nothing is said between the two of them, but Kimi knows that nothing has to be said. Sergi, clearly, has seen the news of the night prior. Kimi, obviously, knows this. But they’re in an impossible situation. Sergi, realistically, knows he’s unable to overpower him. He knows that trying isn’t going to end particularly well for him. Equally, he’s aware that Kimi still has a job to do. The silence between them holds for a minute, maybe longer, before Kimi realises that he’s not going to face any immediate consequences and gets out of bed. 

 

“I have your suit,” Sergi tells him.

 

Kimi more or less ignores the comment as he bends down to take his things from his suitcase, not caring in the slightest how much of his body Sergi sees as he strips in front of him and starts to change.

 

“Where did you get it from?”

 

“An old friend gave it to me,” he answers truthfully, pulling on his underwear and stepping into a pair of jeans. 

 

“A friend?” Sergi repeats. “A friend gave you a new suit?” 

 

Kimi licks his teeth, turning around to face his trainer with a smirk. His shoulder feels sore as he pulls his shirt over his head, and he rolls them both back to stretch them out. 

 

“Jealous?” He teases gleefully.

 

Sergi’s face isn’t even halfway as amused as Kimi’s is.

 

“You’re not going to be left alone again, Kimi,” he explains. “You’ll have someone guarding the door to your room, you won't be permitted to keep your own room key, and if you try anything else then you’ll be withdrawn from the car until we’ve figured out what’s wrong with you. Unless you want to tell me something?”

 

Kimi rolls his eyes like a petulant teenager, like he’s been grounded for sneaking out late rather than being chaperoned to keep him from running off and killing scores of people again. He wants to be able to tell him, but he can’t. Which means that this situation is, all things considered, a light punishment. It's also the best that can really be done given the position they’re in. By keeping Kimi’s identity a secret all this time, they’re also left with no other options.

 

Sergi locks the doors and windows to the room and takes the key card with him as he leaves, returning a few minutes later with breakfast. Kimi eats it, famished from missing his meal the night before, and then he’s escorted from the hotel to the paddock. The watch on his wrist isn’t the IWC watch he should be wearing, but is instead the watch that allows him to communicate with the little robot back in his hotel room. He glances down at it to see what else has been said by the spider since he last paid attention to it yesterday evening, the most recent messages still visible.

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER IS FRIGHTENING PEDRO!]

 

[PEDRO IS DEEPLY CONCERNED ABOUT THE SILVER SPIDER’S WELLBEING!]

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER’S BEHAVIOUR IS ABNORMAL AND REQUIRES IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION!]

 

Kimi ignores the words as he’s left in his driver room, the door locked from the outside as he settles in to wait for the day’s activities. There’s a Sprint Race before Qualifying, and even the version of himself that isn’t him knows he needs to be on his best behaviour for that. In the meantime, the only thing he can really do other than sit and stare meaninglessly at the ceiling, is to pick up his phone and start to scroll.

 

For the majority of him, that’s fine, but for the tiny part of his brain that’s still him, it’s dreadful. Starting with the news reports gives him the facts. That the two passenger trains that were caught up in the explosion were already almost full, that most of the people on those trains died. There’s still hundreds of people injured in hospitals, and work is still ongoing to account for everyone, but with how busy the station was at the time of the explosion the death toll is almost certainly in the four digits. 

 

Navigating from the news to social media is a dreadful experience. It goes from cold hard facts to loathing and anger. Haas are experiencing a lot of backlash on their Socials for having the audacity to post photographs with him and the team weeks ago. Anyone that’s ever said anything positive about him is watching their reputation plummet. Outwardly, he shows nothing as he scrolls. Inwardly, he feels like he’s dying. He has no control, he’s already done the unthinkable, the world has turned against him and still people can’t see what’s wrong.

 

Except that’s not entirely true. Every so often, infrequent but not altogether absent, he sees a comment that manages to put the pieces together. Comments that say the last time the Silver Spider was seen, he was carried away by the Hornet, and now he’s standing by his side. There aren’t many people daring to speak up about that, and those that do are immediately shot down and berated for defending someone who’s done something so dreadful, but they exist. 

 

And if they exist, then other people can reach that conclusion too.

 

There’s hope. Faint, distant hope, but hope all the same. Enough that can cling to it whilst the control the serum has on him grows ever more all encompassing. He might be losing himself too rapidly for it to matter, but there’s a chance that someone realises soon. Toto and Sergi both have the ability to figure things out, and the small part of his mind that is still his has to hold onto that hope. Without it, the Hornet wins.

 

A knock on the door makes him jump, pulls him out of his head, and he forces himself to cling onto that tiny glimmer of hope as he hears the lock click and the door open. He’s not entirely sure who he’s expecting to open the door, but Doriane certainly isn’t that person. When she steps in, Kimi spots the familiar gaze of Sergi through the crack, who locks the door once more after it closes behind her.

 

Hope, it seems, takes a very similar form to Doriane Pin.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, hm?” She asks bluntly, keeping her voice low but firm.

 

Kimi doesn’t say anything, putting his phone down on the side as he watches her silently. Both parts of him are curious as to how she’ll approach this situation, and neither part of him knows what to expect. Doriane, of course, figured out that he was the Silver Spider. Doriane, too, has experienced what it’s like to be under the Hornet’s spell. She has her hands on her hips as she watches him, her eyes dissecting every movement he makes. But apart from blinking, he’s giving her very little to work with.

 

“That was you, eh? Last night? What’s gotten into you, Kimi?!” 

 

He gets up now, pushing himself off the table so he’s standing rather than sitting. Kimi’s a few inches taller than her, but that doesn’t seem to intimidate her at all. She holds her ground easily, just changing the angle she’s looking at him from.

 

“You killed people.”

 

“I did,” he confirms, smiling at her as the words leave his lips.

 

If it unsettles Doriane at all, she doesn’t show it. Her eyes flit back and forth as she searches his face for answers, but there’s nothing there for her to find. 

 

“And, do you know what?” He asks her, taking a step forward.

 

“What?” Doriane takes the bait.

 

“It felt… Good.” 

 

“No, no, it didn’t,” she corrects him quickly. “Kimi, come on, I know this isn’t you. You’re in there somewhere, but not in your voice.”

 

Kimi’s smile widens, and as he takes another step forward she’s finally forced to take a step back. His driver room isn’t very big, it feels even smaller when there’s two people in it, and it only takes a moment for her back to be against the wall. There’s nowhere for her to go - not that there is anyway, considering that Sergi’s locked them in together. Kimi tilts his head, his eyes looking her up and down before he leans in - close enough to her ear that he can whisper so softly that even he can barely hear the words he’s saying.

 

“You were so obedient, Doriane,” he tells her. “You could be useful too.”

 

He watches her neck as she gulps, he looks at the whites of her eyes as her eyelids open widen and her pupils dilate. She’s sweating, ever so slightly. She’s scared. 

 

“You don’t have to be scared,” he says softly.

 

Kimi takes her hand, his fingers brushing feather-light across her knuckles, and he watches the way that she winces at even the gentlest of touches. 

 

“You could do so much to help us. What do you think?” 

 

He pulls back from her ear, getting a proper look at her. Doriane’s head is down, her eyes focused on where their fingers are interlocked, and he wonders if she’s considering the offer. He refused it, point blank, until the serum was injected into his body. She might have come to, but she ingested some in Canada. Maybe there’s enough lingering in her system that all it takes is a little nudge, a bit of gentle persuasion, and she’ll be putty in his fingers.

 

Doriane moves her fingers slowly, and then all at once. She moves them so her grip is instead around his wrist and she squeezes tightly against the scar tissue there. The pain is instant and for a second all he can see is a white flash as he tries to cope with the electricity running through his veins. Kimi gasps, staggering backwards, and whilst he’s still reeling from the altercation he hears Doriane knocking firmly against the door and raising her voice.

 

“I’d like to come out now, Sergi,” she says quickly.

 

As the door is opened and she slips out, Kimi growls. It slams shut and gets locked again before he can stalk out after her, and he’s confined to his almost-prison until it’s time to go out to the Sprint Race. By that point, he’s calmed down, and his focus is entirely on the rest of the weekend on track. But as he follows Sergi silently to the garage, and as he pulls his helmet onto his head to go out to the grid, the smallest fragment of his mind still clings to hope. 

 

He clings to Doriane Pin.

 

+ + +

 

Budapest, Hungary
Friday 01 August 2025

 

Kimi, as promised - or perhaps threatened - hasn’t been alone since that Saturday in Belgium. Not truly, anyway. Even when he’s been alone in a room, someone has been standing guard outside. Sergi usually, sometimes Bono if he’s just in his driver room, occasionally members of Mercedes staff who don’t understand what’s going on but are willing to do as they’re asked for some overtime (or time-off in lieu). His phone has been confiscated too, though that’s had less of an impact on him than they’d clearly expected it too. He was already very used to ignoring the thousands of notifications there.

 

Being herded from session to session in Spa worked out relatively okay for him. Actually, it worked out pretty well overall. The Sprint Race was nothing too impressive - three points for his efforts - but a decent Qualifying session saw him lining up close to the front of the grid and he followed George home to take the team’s first One-Two of the season. It’s even better news for George, who’s still third in the Championship standings but now only 6 points behind Oscar in first place. To any onlooker, Kimi’s crash with Max in Practice has been long since forgotten. The team had a great weekend, there’s nothing more to say about the incident as far as the media are concerned.

 

The media have a pretty similar view of the train station bombing too. Despite being devastating, by far the most deadly attack on European soil in history, the news cycle hasn’t lingered. There’s wars, political decisions, and celebrity gossip far more important that needs to be covered.

 

For Kimi, outwardly, everything is normal. But in his head, every second of existence feels like torture. He feels like those Percy Pigs he stole from George a week ago. The Hornet has chewed him up, spat him out, and now he’s smushing him into the ground with the heel of his boot. The hope that he’d had after his conversation with Doriane was short lived, given nothing happened after it. Clearly, if she has figured things out, she hasn’t been able to communicate them in a way that’s gotten Toto and Sergi to listen to her. Which means he’s alone, except for the Hornet, sick to his stomach that there’s nothing he can do.

 

He sits in his room, motionless unless he’s told to do something or go somewhere. He barely touches the meals that Sergi brings for him, and does as little working out as he can get away with. No one is on his side right now. No one, except for the people he desperately doesn’t want on his side.

 

Pedro is sitting on the desk, watching him now, skittish whenever Kimi stares at him. A glare is enough to make the little robot run and hide behind the room service menu. His watch, too, was confiscated, which means he can’t even talk to the robot. He could shut him off, but it would be to no avail. The last time he did, Sergi was in his room turning him right back on only a few minutes later. The spy that was created for him is now being used against him.

 

He gets a short reprieve from the bastard robot when Sergi knocks on the door and declares that it’s time for him to head to the track for the day. This weekend, unlike the last, is a regular weekend. There’s no Sprint, so he has plenty of time to get settled in the car before he has to be competitive. It’s nice, really, because being in the car is the only time he gets to feel like his old self now. A few sessions where he can have cooldown laps and trundle around without too much to worry about means a few sessions where he can almost feel human.

 

The two make their way to the paddock together, sitting in silence in the back of an Uber. Kimi wonders if Sergi has figured anything out yet, though that thought is quickly stamped out and replaced, instead, with what Sergi’s head would look like exploded into a thousand tiny pieces.

 

A mess, mostly.

 

Kimi is taken to his driver room to go over his programme for the first session, the sound mechachrome engines filling the motorhome as Formula 2 cars make their way in from the end of their Practice session. In the notes section of his programme he can see that a couple of rookies are testing for other teams: Alex Dunne is in Oscar’s car, Luke Browning is stepping in for Carlos, Arvid Lindblad is taking over Max’s car, and his old friend Paul Aron has swapped into Pierre’s Alpine. 

 

Other than that, there’s nothing unusual about the first session at all. Temperatures are expected to be high, the tyres are going to degrade at a rate of knots, and he’ll mostly be doing high fuel runs on a set of hard tyres - with ten minutes for a soft tyre run at the end if he feels comfortable in his set up.

 

Kimi starts to go through the motions of getting ready. He changes into his fireproofs, he pulls on his race suit, and he warms up his body by stretching and exercising as much as he can without anyone to warm up with him. By the time Sergi is knocking on his door to walk him to the car, he’s ready and raring to go. The prospect of driving has shut up the voice inside his mind, and a part of him wonders if they can just find a way to constantly fuel the car so he never has to stop driving until they find a way to fix him.

 

Not that anyone is giving fixing him any real consideration. They don’t even know he’s broken.

 

He has a short conversation with Bono about the plan for the session - mostly to make sure he paid attention whilst he was reading his programme - and then he gets ready to climb into the car. As he’s pulling on his gloves and balaclava, he can’t help but notice how empty his side of the garage is. His family aren’t there for the first time all season. His mother and sister have only come infrequently, but this is the first race his father is absent for. 

 

It’s just another reminder of how total the Hornet’s control of him is. Somehow he’s managed to push away the people that should love him the most.

 

Kimi pulls his helmet onto his head and Sergi helps him into the car, and a few minutes after the green light comes on at the end of the pit lane he’s pulling out of his garage and preparing his tyres on his out lap. Hungary is a track that he likes. Last year, in Formula 2, he was doing alright in the Sprint Race until he learned just how brutal the tyre degradation could be, but he took that learning into the Feature Race and came home on the top step. It was his second and final victory of the season, but it was a hard fought one. Six overtakes in a little over a lap took him to the win - it felt like a performance that’d go down as one of his personal career highlights to date. 

 

The track becomes congested rather quickly, which is somewhat expected in a session with so many rookies. Everyone wants track time, everyone wants a chance to gather data, but the rookies want to make an impression. A great FP1 outing alongside a strong Formula 2 campaign could be the difference between getting a seat and not. Cadillac hasn't announced their drivers yet, and this is the best way for young drivers to submit their resume to the team. For Paul it’s more than just a message to Cadillac, it’s one to Alpine as well. If he can impress, then he adds his name to the list of drivers that are rumoured to be replacing Jack after the summer break. 

 

Kimi’s taking his programme one step at a time, getting some good data for the team, doing some constant speed runs with the aero rakes on his car as they test their last batch of upgrades before the team switches to developing the car for next year. He’s making his way down the main straight, and in his mirrors he can see the pink and blue Alpine car that’s been borrowed by Paul Aron for the hour. 

 

Paul, of course, is trying to show off. The last thing he wants to do is get stuck behind Kimi for a lap whilst he’s testing new parts. But Kimi - or the voice that dominates his head - has no intention of letting Paul pass him easily. Not with their history. 

 

He keeps to the racing line for Turn 1, and he makes his way carefully around Turn 2. Paul is in his mirrors, almost weaving back and forth to try and figure out where the best spot to make a move is. The truth of the matter is that the best place to make that move is down the next straight, where Kimi will once again be driving to a set speed, but Kimi - and the voice that controls his every movement - knows Paul won’t settle for that. Not after how the Feature race ended last year. So when he makes his move on the exit of Turn 2, Kimi places his car perfectly, and Paul’s front left connects ever so slightly with Kimi’s rear right. Kimi, anticipating the contact, can keep going and just comes back to the pits with a puncture.

 

Paul, who didn’t know that was about to happen, pirouettes into the gravel. It’s a near identical move to how his Feature Race ended last year, and once again the ex-Mercedes Academy driver can point the blame squarely on Kimi. Last year barely anyone believed him, but this year there’s a little more truth to his words.

 

Enough truth that Kimi is summoned to the Stewards after the session. So when he’s out of the car, pulling off his balaclava and taking his earplugs out, he’s met with a disappointing stare from Bono.

 

“Buddy,” his engineer begins as he goes to sit beside him, pulling a set of headphones on to hear him clearly over the sound of wheel guns and drills. “What’s going on?”

 

A hand presses against his shoulder and he shrugs it away. He can see the concerned look on Bono’s face that comes with that, given he’s supposed to be the more tactile of the two of them, but he ignores it in favour of the hostile front that he puts up.

 

“Nothing,” he says defensively. “Paul pulled this shit last year too. It wasn’t my fault, eh? You blame me for everything, mate!” 

 

Bono’s eyebrows rise at the outburst. There are clearly still moments where he forgets that he’s not engineering a seven-time World Champion anymore, but the broader situation being entirely unknown for Bono probably doesn’t help things. At least if he knew what Kimi was going through, even just to the degree that Toto and Sergi do, he might be able to anticipate things like this a little more.

 

“Well, not everything,” Bono says, trying to calm him down. “But you’ve got to admit it doesn’t look great. You’ve been crashy lately.”

 

“I’ve been crashy?!” He scoffs. “Do you think maybe that’s because the rest of the track is filled with idiots, eh? Maybe I’ve got an even bigger idiot yapping in my ear, hm?!” 

 

Bono’s taken aback by that, and he seems to struggle a little more when it comes to recovering the conversation.

 

“Alright, mate, maybe we should take a breather…”

 

“No, no fucking breather. You think I’m crashy? Should we talk about all your flaws? Calling me Lewis in China, made me feel great, eh? The strategy calls, the safety car fuck ups, the impeding grid drops? If you think I’m crashy and you want the whole world to know, maybe we tell them how shit you are!”

 

Bono opens his mouth. Kimi’s words seem to have genuinely hurt him. As he closes his mouth he takes his headphones off, crestfallen expression replaced quickly with a much more steeled and closed off look. It’s back to how they were when things first started, except instead of Kimi sitting on a workbench and telling him he likes to manifest he’s cursing him out. Instead of Bono listening and trying to bond, he’s rebuilding the walls he’s gradually let fall over the past few months of working together.

 

“We can talk later, once you’ve calmed down,” Bono tells him firmly.

 

“Eh, go fuck yourself,” Kimi spits, throwing up a middle finger as he watches his engineer walk away.

 

The eyes of the mechanics are on him, and Kimi narrows his own right back at them. They don’t seem scared of him, and he’s got half a mind to shoot his web out of his wrist and give them a reason to be afraid, but instead he feels a strong arm gripping his bicep and dragging him out the back of the garage. 

 

Sergi, of course. 

 

“You’ve got to get a hold of yourself, mate,” he mutters as he drags him towards the Steward’s room. “You need friends, alright? If you keep this up you’re going to end up pushing away everyone that’s there for you. Snap out of it.” 

 

In the back of his mind, he lets out a quiet, pathetic laugh. He wants to look at Sergi and tell him if only he knew the half of it, he wants to fall to his knees and beg. Instead, he just yanks his arm out of his grip and walks silently alongside him. He’s no stranger to seeing the Stewards at this point, he’s used to the whole charade, the bias, the fact that nothing he says will really matter. He doesn’t care about any of that, he just wants to get it over with, but what he does care about is the fact that Paul Aron is - obviously - waiting outside the room too.

 

And he looks smug. 

 

Oh, Kimi has never felt more of an urge to punch someone in his life.

 

Sergi, clearly, recognises the way that his eyes cloud over, and he steps in front of Kimi with a serious look chiseled onto his face.

 

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t do it. You’ll get more than just penalty points if you do that.”

 

Kimi breathes deeply, chest rising and falling as he closes his eyes. The voice in his head is deafening, far louder than Sergi’s whispered words, but he still somehow manages to resonate with him. Maybe it’s because the Hornet realises Kimi will be more useful if he’s still able to race, terrorising other drivers on the track. Maybe Paul is somehow involved in this scheme - he truly wouldn’t put it past the man. Their past runs deep, Paul’s jealousy even deeper. If there’s anyone in the world that’s out to get him, it would be Paul.

 

Which is why the meeting with the Stewards turns into a shouting match.

 

“I was on a hot lap!” Paul shouts, gesticulating towards Kimi. “He was blocking me deliberately!”

 

“It’s not my fault you don’t know how to overtake, mate!” He laughs. “Why do you think you got dropped? You did this last year with Maloney, eh? Maybe don’t be such a fucking idiot in Turn 2. Have you ever considered that?”

 

“You had aero rakes on, you were testing, why the fuck wouldn’t you pull off the line for me?”

 

“I didn’t see any blue flags, my speed through the corner was fine. You could’ve passed me on the straight, you impatient little–”

 

“I have one fucking session and you–”

 

In the end, they’re both reprimanded for their behaviour in that room, Kimi narrowly escapes another penalty point on his licence, and the two men have to be herded in opposite directions when they leave the room by their team representatives. 

 

Kimi is left to stew in his driver room, locked in once more with nothing but the voice in his head for company. It’s the first time in hours that his surroundings have been quiet, and that just makes the voices all the more loud. 

 

He’s been through hard times before. He’s broken bones, had surgery, had to fight his way back to being fit enough to drive. He’s had crashes and reckless accidents that have left people accusing him of not being ready, of Toto rushing him into the sport. He likes to think he’s resilient, capable of pushing through whatever comes his way, but the longer this goes on and the more he loses control of himself and his actions, the more he pushes people away and angers the ones that could help him, the less and less he feels like he’s going to be able to bounce back.

 

It’s too much. Kimi feels well and truly broken. His heart and mind have been shattered by what’s going on, and the piece of him that’s still him is becoming smaller by the minute. At the rate the serum is working, he’s probably only got a couple of hours left before that part of him is snuffed out of existence. 

 

He closes his eyes, presses his hand firmly against his face, and waits in silence for the second Practice session to start. Sergi escorts him, and once he’s in the car his conversations over the radio with Bono are stilted and awkward. It doesn’t feel good at all, but Kimi doesn’t deserve good. 

 

He deserves to be alone.

 

As he drives, he doesn’t think about driving. He thinks about the people in Belgium that are hurt because of him, he thinks about the people that are dead because of him. There are families missing loved ones, friends who’ve lost people they’ve known for decades, children growing up without parents… And it’s all because of him.

 

He finishes the session in a woeful P13, and when he climbs out of the car he makes a beeline for his driver room. Sergi follows him, shouting about the need to stay for a debrief, but Kimi gives him a glare that tells him one thing and one thing alone: he’s going to his hotel room, and that’s final. 

 

There’s no argument. Kimi changes, Sergi takes him to a car, and they travel in silence back to the hotel a little way from the circuit. His trainer takes him up to his hotel room and enters with him, double checking the windows and doors after housekeeping has been in tidying up during the day. Kimi isn’t left alone until Sergi is satisfied, and a few minutes later he’s disturbed once more to have his dinner brought to him, before he’s once again locked away and isolated. 

 

Kimi lies on top of his bedsheets, on his side, his knees close to his chest and his eyes staring unblinking at the blank wall opposite him. 

 

He isn’t sure what it’s going to feel like, to be lost entirely to this serum. He doesn’t think it will hurt, given the rest of the process hasn’t hurt him physically either. But maybe it’s different when it’s not just a case of the serum taking over, maybe it’s different when the process becomes complete. Kimi breathes slowly and thinks about his options. He doesn’t have his phone, so he can’t call or text for help, not that it would matter. He proved in Silverstone that he doesn’t have any control over his words anymore - spoken or written. His actions have angered people, but they don’t appear to have aroused suspicion, at least not in the way that would lead them to the truth.

 

Really, there’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing he can do but await the inevitable.

 

Kimi uses what might be his last moments as himself to mourn what he can. To grieve for the people that died because of him, but for the people that will. His friends and family, surely, will be the ones in the most danger. Sergi, stationed dutifully outside the door, doing everything in his power to protect the world after spending so many years protecting him, is almost certainly going to be the first to bear the brunt of his changed self. Kimi reaches for his necklaces with one hand, bringing the string closer to his mouth so he can anxiously chew at it. It doesn’t soothe his anxiety like it used to. 

 

He doesn’t want to be a monster. He doesn’t want to be a villain. He said as much in Silverstone when he was on that table, begging the Hornet to stop hurting him, but the choice was never real. 

 

Maybe, the whole time, it was just a matter of when. Maybe the Hornet has been playing games with him since Jeddah. Maybe it’s just been to see how far he can get on his own. He’s probably walked into the Hornet’s traps over and over and over again. Kimi feels like an idiot. If he’d just done one thing differently, he wouldn’t be in this position.

 

But then maybe the Hornet would’ve just tried again. Austria, clearly, was an attempt to get hold of him, but it didn’t work out how he expected it to. Esteban and Ollie provided an opportunity in Silverstone, and the Hornet took advantage of it. He dreads to think what might have happened in Spa if it hadn’t worked, and what might have happened this weekend if he’d still managed to evade him.

 

He was never going to win. The Hornet just let him believe he had a chance.

 

The food that Sergi brought him has already gone cold, untouched on the desk besides Pedro. The little spider has moved out from behind the room service menu he’d made his home this morning and is now watching Kimi from on top of his notebook.

 

Kimi decides to roll over fully, to press his face firmly against his pillow. It doesn’t make him feel any better, unsurprisingly, but he doesn’t stop it either. Maybe, if he stays like this long enough, he’ll wake up. This will be just another nightmare. He’ll be in the spare bedroom in the Wolff house, Susie will be by his side to help him down from how high strung he is, Toto will bring Jack in for a cuddle and his family will be on their way to help him too. It’s a nice dream.

 

But the illusion shatters around him as he hears a loud thud, and when he sits up he’s not in the spare bedroom. He’s still in a lonely hotel room, he’s still without the people that care about him, he’s still not in control of his body. Something that becomes all the more evident when he feels a tingle in his wrist, strengthening as the handle on his door is pushed down. Both he and Pedro are staring at it as it opens, and he spots… Someone.

 

In less bright lighting, it’s almost difficult to recognise the shimmering stranger. It’s odd to look at him without being blinded by his armour. It’s strangely hypnotic, too. The glitter coruscates under the light, like a distant galaxy amplified by a telescope. His suit is sleek and form fitting, his armour serving the same function as the Hornet’s but in a much more glamorous way. There’s a few similarities between the two - enough to be sure that their suits were made by the same people - but the shimmering stranger has clearly had a lot more input into his own design, and he’s clearly been much more picky about the aesthetics of his appearance.

 

“Sergi let you in?” Kimi asks as the man steps inside.

 

His voice sounds different than he’s used to. He sounds more cocky, more sure of himself, there’s an edge to his words that he doesn’t remotely enjoy hearing back in his ears. 

 

“I asked nicely,” comes the reply.

 

The shimmering stranger holds himself in a way that’s elegant, almost regal. It’s almost a surprise that he doesn’t have a cape or a crown. Kimi doesn’t react to his presence, but Pedro is desperately afraid. The little spider scuttles into a new hiding spot - this time underneath Kimi’s bag.

 

“Who are you?” 

 

“Oh, you know exactly who I am, Kimi,” he replies. 

 

The door finally swings shut, clicking onto the latch behind him as he plays with the key card.

 

“I do,” Kimi concedes, because he has figured out the true identity of the man before him. “But do you want me to say that, eh?”

 

“No, I suppose not,” he admits. “Well, since the Hornet is already taken, I suppose you can call me the Wasp.” 

 

Kimi can’t help but chuckle. Not because of the name, but the implication. They’re all on the same side now. 

 

“The Hornet, the Wasp, and the Silver Spider?” He recalls aloud. “We sound like a children’s book, no?”

 

“I hope there aren’t many children reading it,” the Wasp replies dryly. “The Hornet wants us. Do you still have your suit?” 

 

Kimi shakes his head, much to the Wasp’s irritation.

 

“Sergi took it, he probably still has it. Or Toto. One of them. Everything was confiscated.”

 

“Well, Sergi certainly doesn’t have them,” the Wasp laughs. “I’ll find Toto and fetch what you need, you bring Sergi in so he isn’t lying in the corridor.”

 

His key card is tossed to him as the Wasp leaves, and Kimi takes it back gratefully. He walks to the door and peeks out of his room, looking back and forth along the corridor. It doesn’t take long to see what the Wasp meant. Sergi is, as expected based on the man’s comments, lying unconscious on the floor. Kimi thinks nothing of it, it’s just business after all, and he gets to work promptly crouching down and grabbing his trainer’s hands to drag him out of view of the other hotel patrons. He doesn’t feel at all bad for the carpet burns the man is almost certainly getting, though he does have the courtesy to return for a shoe that comes off and bring that into the room too. Once he’s in, and the door is closed, the easy part is done. Moving him onto his bed is going to be an awful lot more challenging.

 

But, he supposes, he doesn’t have to move Sergi onto the bed.

 

He’s out of view, that was what was required of him. Rather than make him more comfortable, Kimi searches his pockets for anything that might be useful to his cause. He finds another spare key card for his room, which he quickly pockets, and the watch to communicate with Pedro, which he swiftly ignores. He doesn’t give a damn what that droid has to say.

 

It doesn’t take long for the Wasp to return, and when he does so - knocking on the door to alert Kimi to his presence - he goes to open the door. It hits Sergi’s foot, which makes Kimi laugh. The Wasp seems far less amused, particularly because he has to push the door the rest of the way open just to be able to squeeze inside. His struggles only make his laughter increase, and Kimi’s smiling - really, truly smiling - for the first time in weeks. It feels good, he feels good! He likes feeling good!

 

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” the Wasp complains, throwing Kimi’s suit at him as the door quickly shuts. “Change. We’re already late.”

 

Kimi catches his things easily, not bothering to make an attempt at privacy as he strips out of his clothes. The black and purple suit feels more like himself than that old grey and teal number ever did. 

 

“Toto didn’t give you any problems, eh?” He asks, pulling his mask over his face.

 

“He and I are good friends,” the Wasp assures him, and Kimi snorts in disbelief.

 

“Where are we going?” Kimi moves to his bag, fishing out his charms from the front pocket and adding them, too, to his belt. The old part of him might be dead and gone, but superstitions are more than just temporary. 

 

“An oil refinery.”

 

The Wasp is sparing with his response, and Kimi doesn’t push for anymore. It’s good enough for him right now, so he looks to the Wasp and expects him to lead. It’s something that the man is clearly happy enough to do, and he makes a show of it. 

 

Small wings on his back extend, and what emerges is a beautiful translucent membrane. It’s a blend of deep blues and purples, blending perfectly with the rest of his suit. They’re beautiful, with the same shimmering speckles running almost to the tips of the membrane itself. 

 

“It’s going to take us too long to swing all the way there,” the Wasp explains to Kimi. “We’re going to have to take a train.”

 

“A train?” He raises his eyebrows behind his suit. “Are we sure that’s a good idea, hm? I mean, with my history…”

 

“The trains in Belgium were laced with explosives long before you got involved,” the Wasp tells him flatly, taking away any credit Kimi could’ve given himself for just how widespread the destruction was. “You were the catalyst, but the Hornet was the mastermind. Don’t think you’re anything more than a tool, kid.”

 

Kimi recognises when he’s being scolded. That kid from the Wasp makes him feel the same way as when Toto calls him Andrea. He’s not to talk back, and in the face of a villain that he doesn’t know the full strengths and abilities of, he opts not to push that boundary. Maybe after a few hours, when he’s seen what he can do, he’ll know where he stands.

 

For now, though, there’s nothing else to add to the matter. Kimi hands one of the two key cards to the Wasp and allows him to unlock the rest of the room. The door to the small balcony opens and as the Wasp steps out first he starts to fly. The way he glides through the air is seamless, another extension of his noble look. Kimi shoots out his webs and starts to swing to follow him, arcing high and low and enjoying the wind on his suit. Their progress is certainly quicker than if they were to go on foot, but slower than a train, so there’s really no surprise that they’re catching a ride. 

 

The rail line is a little way west from the circuit, and the train that they’re making use of is a cargo train. The Wasp comes to a gentle stop, his wings folding back in on his back, whereas Kimi tucks his legs and arms into his body and rolls along the back of a shipping container to stop his momentum. It’s a warm night, the heat of the day still holding on into the evening, and the two of them sit and wait patiently for the train to follow its tracks through the Hungarian countryside. Kimi elects to lay back and stare up at the sky, watching as the final wisps of light fade away - orange, pink, and purple replaced with a blue as rich as the Wasp’s suit. As the train makes its way through Budapest, then comes out to the south of the city, the first few stars start to twinkle. 

 

Stars, ironically, ground him. Like the man made universe found in the Shanghai skyline, Kimi stares out into the galaxy and feels meaningless. Insignificant. Nothing he does has any meaningful consequence. He could choose to feel guilty about the lives he took in Belgium, but why? Those people were nothing but collated stardust, they and their descendants would’ve been dead in the blink of a cosmic eye. 

 

The train rattles along the floodplains of the Danube, carrying Kimi and his new friend towards their destination. And eventually, that results in Kimi feeling a gentle kick to his side to capture his attention. The Wasp is staring down at him as he gets quickly to his feet in response.

 

“This is our stop,” he confirms. 

 

It’s nice being outside again. He has his freedom once again. Looking back, he’s not sure why he ever just sat and accepted the imprisonment that Sergi and Toto forced upon him. He always had the idea of fighting back, but he never did. In the future, he will.

 

The Wasp gestures towards a road bridge that crosses the tracks a few hundred meters ahead of them, and his wings start to beat as he rises from the top of the containers. Kimi shoots out a web, anchors himself on the side of the bridge, and pulls himself up and over an electrical fence that - he supposes - is meant to keep out people like him and the Wasp. Beneath them, the train continues on its journey, none the wiser to the stowaways it briefly carried. A minute later, the world around them is silent save for the mice running in the bushes and fields, the birds nesting in the trees, and the owls hunting for their prey. The bridge is dark, without street lights to illuminate their surroundings and give them away. Of course, neither Kimi nor the Wasp need to rely on something as amateurish as light to enable them to see.

 

Kimi follows the Wasp down the road, crossing a deserted roundabout and continuing south until the tree line breaks and the world opens up to a wide expanse of buildings and containers - nothing short of a mammoth operation. The Hornet and the Wasp, and now Kimi alongside them, are going back to their roots. The refinery itself is monstrous in size, hundreds of trucks parked lined up and waiting for the oil to be pumped into their containers to be taken wherever it needs to go. The entire horizon is filled with office buildings, silos, and pipes. Kimi’s never seen something so invasive, something so sprawling, something so detrimental to the environment on such a scale. 

 

Before them both, there’s a security checkpoint, but of course they’re not going to be walking in the front door. Kimi keeps in the footprints of the Wasp as they skirt around the car park, passing by the parked trucks and using them as cover from the patrolling security guards. Kimi, thankfully, doesn’t have to think. He can just rely on the Wasp’s own reconnaissance to get them around. An abandoned rail line becomes their new guide, allowing them to sneak around the fences and avoid detection. He doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask about where they’re going, he just trusts the Wasp completely. They stick to the shadows, they move with the wind, and eventually Kimi feels a hand on his forearm tug him back into the trees.

 

He jumps, alert and ready to fight, but a few quick blinks to refocus his vision leave him staring back at the mask of the Hornet. Kimi’s mind empties out as he stares up at him, and suddenly - even more so than when he was with the Hornet - he’s left completely pliant, ready to submit and follow orders without asking a single question.

 

“You’re late,” they’re both scolded.

 

“The train was delayed,” the Wasp replies, dull and uninterested. “We’re here now. Tell him the plan.”

 

“You didn’t think to do that?” The Hornet narrows his eyes.

 

“I would never overrule your command,” the Wasp drawls.

 

The two stare at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to break first, and it isn’t until Kimi clears his throat that the Hornet finally does. He huffs, crouching down to pick up a large stick from the ground, kicking the dusty dirt beneath him to clear it of debris. Then, using the stick, he starts to draw a diagram in the dirt to explain the plan.

 

“This refinery processes 8 million tonnes of oil a year,” he says, and Kimi fears he might not have escaped the classroom just yet. “165,000 barrels a day. We’re going to stop that. Wasp,” he commands, pointing his stick at a rectangle. “You’re going to the storage facilities. I’ll take care of the pipe.”

 

The two nod, both clearly confident in their roles. This plan has obviously been discussed at length before Kimi came into the picture, and it leaves him without an understanding of what’s expected of him. He doesn’t know where he fits, he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to speak or if he should keep quiet, but since he’s been brought here… He splits the gap, and raises his hand.

 

“What about me?”

 

“You?” The Hornet echoes, a smile in his voice as he drops his stick and walks back towards Kimi. “You are going to plant bombs along the sulphur and hydrogen production facilities, and you’ll detonate when we give you the signal.”

 

Kimi nods. His orders have been given, and his trust in the Hornet is total. If he’s told to plant bombs and detonate them, he’ll plant those bombs and detonate them without question.

 

The Hornet and the Wasp exchange some things - Kimi can see the moonlight reflecting on what he assumes are their explosives - and eventually his patience is rewarded by being handed some too. He holds them carefully, not wanting to disturb them in a way that might end badly for them all, weighing them in his palms. They’re different to the bombs from last week - ones that stick to a surface rather than something you pull a pin out of and drop - so it’s almost surprising that they’re lightweight. It makes logical sense, though, since dropping them probably wouldn’t be ideal. 

 

Kimi looks up to the Hornet, awaiting his cue like an actor waiting for lights to rise on a scene. Before he’s dismissed to do his job, the Hornet reaches to a belt on his own waist. It’s decorated with a variety of kit like his belt was in Liège - before Toto and Sergi had the audacity to confiscate it from him - including the crossbow. The Hornet has a wealth of ammunition strapped to him to choose from, and he elects to go with something that looks more like a plate than a weapon. Kimi can’t pretend he isn’t deeply confused by this, and he watches on curiously.

 

The Hornet aims the weapon high and shoots it, the disc spinning toward the horizon with more force than Kimi expects it to. He jumps back, eyes wide as he tracks it across the skyline, and when it finally comes down and crashes into the ground… The whole refinery turns dark.

 

“A miniature EMP,” the Hornet explains, resting a hand on Kimi’s shoulder. “Time to go, we don’t have long.”

 

No further explanation is offered to Kimi on how that worked, and before he can ask for one both the Hornet and the Wasp are utilising their wings to leave the ground behind and begin to make their way towards their respective destinations. Kimi is left behind, watching them go, staring at them as he makes his own plan for what to do next. One hand drops to the charms at his waist and fidgets with them absent-mindedly. For luck. 

 

He can’t fly, but who needs wings when you have webs? Kimi clips the bombs to his waist securely before he starts to run, making his way out of the foliage and shooting out his web. He pulls harshly and feels his feet leave the ground, using another web to angle himself properly as he catapults over the fence. In the distance he can hear shouts of workers trying to get emergency power going. The cover of darkness is a fleeting advantage that will quickly be taken from him, and as useful as it is right now it does mean that once the lights are back on, the refinery will be swarmed with security trying to find the cause of the fault. As he lands on the tarmac, Kimi starts to sprint again, straight in the direction of what he can only assume are the hydrogen and sulphur production facilities. It’s not like he had lessons on this kind of thing in school, but his instincts are telling him that’s where he needs to go. The tingles are tugging him, and he’s not one to second guess the feeling in his wrist.

 

Up close, everything is so much more massive than he’d expected. From a distance it all looked big, but without perspective it still seemed reasonable. Now, standing so close, it’s as though he’s been shrunk down to the size of… An ant? A spider? He’s not sure which comparison is funnier.

 

It doesn’t matter. Humour shouldn’t be his primary concern when he’s got six explosives strapped to his waist that need to be put into place.

 

The first structure that Kimi approaches is like a web of metal. There’s hundreds of pipes and wires, things used for cooling, for heating, for transporting air and water and oxygen and sulphur. There’s towering chimneys to relieve the pressure and there’s heat emanating beyond Kimi’s wildest dreams. He’s sweating in his suit before he can even get close, and even with the cooling features he’s panting for air as he starts to ascend the staircases. It’s hot. Too hot. It’s an oppressive, sweltering heat that makes it borderline impossible to breathe. He wants to stop and try to compose himself, but he can’t. He has to prioritise speed right now, and if that means clattering across a metal gangway whilst his body feels like it could collapse from heat exhaustion at any second, then that’s what he’ll do. 

 

Without truly knowing how the facilities operate, he doesn’t know the best place to affix the devices, which at least means he doesn’t take too long thinking about it. He finds the first suitable surface and presses metal against metal, waiting until it’s stuck to the side before he turns and quickly starts to make his way to the next.

 

As he’s moving through the compound he can hear the sound of an engine, and Kimi tucks himself into a mess of pipes and crouches down to stay low and hidden. Even without the lights back on, he can’t risk being caught by a stray flashlight beam. He holds his breath as he watches a van patrol past him, headlights casting a glow over the track and everything else around it. He’s lucky his suit is dark enough to pass as just another part of the system as light covers him through the gaps between the pipes. Over the sound of the engine, he can hear voices, but they’re speaking in Hungarian - Kimi hasn’t a hope of following what they’re saying. 

 

He’s not sure he needs to, not when he can see men in the vehicle with spanners - and men beside them with guns. 

 

The people fixing the lights are well defended. He’ll bear that in mind.

 

Kimi waits for them to be gone, and then waits a few more seconds, before he resumes the task at hand: planting bombs. He pushes through the intolerable heat to make quick work of planting the second and third explosives on the sulphur production facilities, and he’s glad that it frees him up to finally leave that section behind. 

 

Next up, the hydrogen production needs to be sabotaged. He follows the tingles in his wrists, relief flooding him as he moves away from the sulphur, and the next structures he finds himself approaching look so much more simple from the outside. They’re bigger, yes, but there’s less extravagance to it. Huge tanks and thick pipes, but far less complexity than before. Kimi still doesn’t have any idea how it functions, but that’s not something he needs to understand in order to blow it up.

 

As he plants the first bomb, he’s caught off guard by something appearing in the corner of his vision. A message.

 

[PLEASE HELP PEDRO!]

 

He furrows his brow as he ignores the message, letting it fade away into nothingness. Kimi is a long way from the hotel, and even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t exactly be assisting that pesky little robot. That thing is surveillance on legs, his job for the last week has been to observe and make sure he’s not doing anything but sitting completely still.

 

Kimi moves on, checking his surroundings before he goes to plant the penultimate explosive.

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER IS GONE! FRIEND SERGI IS HURT! PEDRO REQUIRES ASSISTANCE!]

 

He growls softly, one hand clenching into a fist as he strides forward. He doesn’t know what’s being used to communicate with Pedro - the watch or his old suit - but he’d wager that Pedro has no idea that this suit gives him the same ability to talk to him. The fact that he can see his messages is entirely incidental, and in actuality that bastard robot is communicating to whoever has the watch. 

 

Toto, probably. 

 

[FRIEND SERGI IS HURT! FRIEND SERGI REQUIRES HELP!]

 

That confirms to Kimi that he’s getting half of a conversation, rather than just desperate pleas sent out into the void, which means he needs to get out of this place as soon as he can. He has to deal with Pedro.

 

He’s got one explosive left.

 

Kimi can do that fast enough, and maybe he can sneak away before the Hornet and the Wasp are done. These things, he’s sure, can be detonated remotely, and he can head back to the hotel to handle his own personal situation. He’s ready to fight back, he’s not going to let himself be imprisoned for the duration of summer break, he’s more powerful than Toto, Sergi, and Pedro combined! He is the Silver Spider, they are just people he can crush. Flesh and bones that can be burned and broken. 

 

[THE SILVER SPIDER ABSCONDED WITH A MAN THAT COULD FLY!]

 

Oh, great, and now that little brat is giving the rest of his position away. He huffs angrily, taking the final explosive from his waist and scanning with his eyes to find a suitable place to position it on the side of the hydrogen production facility.

 

The explosion that rocks the world around him is nothing short of colossal.

 

In his hand, the bomb explodes, as does every other explosive placed around the refinery. A bright flash, followed by darkness so inky black he’d have seen more in the depths of sleep, makes Kimi dizzy and sends him stumbling through heat. None of his senses are working correctly, understandably. He sees nothing, he feels nothing, all he can hear is a deafening ringing in his ears. It takes what feels like an eternity for anything to come back to him, and when it does it’s piecemeal.

 

First is his hearing, the high pitched whine slowly giving way to the crackling of flames, the pitter-patter of debris raining back down to the ground, and the screams and shouts of people. It reminds him too much of Liège, of the people that died, the people that were injured, and the ones that tried in vain to help their fellow man. 

 

His sigh returns to him next, though really there isn’t much more to see than the inky darkness. It’s replaced with a fuzzier kind of darkness, one that makes it apparent that Kimi is no longer blind to the world around him but that the world around him is just smoke and ash as fires rage. Every so often there’s a flicker of flames - red and blue - that lap away at what’s left of the refinery, but the soot around him is so dense that it’s almost impossible to see. He’s dreadfully disoriented as he tries to move away from the fires, stumbling as he tries to avoid being pelted with the various sized pieces of metal that fall around him.

 

Next up, he can smell again, and the world smells awful. Even with his mask filtering oxygen for him to breathe, the stench of rotten eggs is impossible to escape. The air is filled with burning flesh and boiling blood. It’s all encompassing, it clings to him like a cloak, it smells like death. It’s putrid, and Kimi feels nauseous.

 

He knows he needs to leave, to get out of this place, and so he starts to move. But unlike when he was stumbling around, taking full strides and shifting his body more completely makes him start to feel things. Things like agony - complete and utter agony - where every step hurts, every jolt of his body sends pain through his arms, his back, his head, and his legs. No part of him has escaped injury, though his suit has offered him just enough protection to remain alive and conscious, but he has to push through and run faster and faster to try and escape the destruction that he’s left behind. 

 

Kimi runs. He wasn’t meant to be this close when everything exploded, he wasn’t meant to witness the fallout of it first hand. He runs faster. He doesn’t think about the Hornet, or the Wasp, where they might be and why the explosion might have taken place when it did. He just runs. 

 

He runs back the way he’d come in, grateful that the fences have been blown over by the force of the explosion and he doesn’t need to swing just yet. He runs through the trees, smouldering and threatening to turn into their own blazing inferno, then through the car park and along the road towards the bridge over the train line. There’s sirens coming, helicopters and searchlights in the sky, and Kimi lowers himself down the slope to hide beneath the bridge. He can’t be found, not now. 

 

It feels impossible to make sense of it all, even as he tries. He’s lying in the grass, waves of pain moving through his body, reeling from what’s almost certainly a concussion, at the very least. Kimi listens to vehicles passing overhead, but his hiding spot is enough for him to evade detection. If someone found him now, he’s not sure he’d be even remotely capable of fleeing and escaping capture.

 

Eventually, the world beneath him begins to move gently. It’s not another, distant explosion, and it’s not an earthquake, rather it’s a sign that a train is coming. Kimi takes a shaky breath as he focuses, forcing himself to sit upright no matter how much it hurts. Once he’s on the train and moving back north towards the hotel, he’ll be able to properly recuperate from what’s just happened, process what he’s done, what he’s seen.

 

He sees the train first and he gets to his feet. It’s a passenger train this time, but he’s got no intentions of boarding traditionally. Instead, as it speeds along the tracks beside him, he uses all of his strength to shoot out his web (which is agonisingly painful) and anchors himself to the top of one of the carriages. He pulls himself aboard, stumbling and falling as he lands on top, and he pulls his mask away from his sweat covered face to take in lungfuls of fresh air. Arguably, the air was almost certainly more fresh when it was being filtered by his mask, but he needs it gone. Right now, it feels claustrophobic, and the further the train travels north the more breathable the air becomes anyway. 

 

He places the mask in his lap, the train beneath him rocking him back and forth comfortably, and he brings his hands to his face to pinch his nose and rub at his eyes. He feels a wetness, though, and a sharp pain. 

 

His hand is bleeding.

 

Kimi peels off what’s left of his glove after the explosion, wincing and gasping as he shifts the fabric, and when he reveals exactly what’s wrong… He feels awfully light headed.

 

His pinky finger isn’t gone, not exactly, but it’s barely there anymore. It’s been blown most of the way off, attached to his hand by a thin strip of charred skin as blood drips slowly from the part of the wound that hasn’t been completely cauterised from the heat of the explosion.

 

Acting as quickly as he can, Kimi takes that mangled glove and does his best to wrap it around his wrist to try and stem the bleeding. He doesn’t feel as if he’s going to pass out from blood loss any time soon, but the fact that he’s made it this far without even realising he’s almost lost a finger tells him that his mental state probably isn’t to be trusted. He has to take every precaution available to him. Then, he takes his mask and turns it inside out - more of a challenge with one hand than he expected it to be. It means he doesn’t have to look at the almost gone finger. Kimi’s never really thought of himself as squeamish, but this is where he draws the line.

 

There’s the question of what comes next. He can’t go to a hospital like this - he’d be arrested at best, and killed at worst. Going back to the hotel is already his plan, and realistically the best option, but he’s going to be confronted by Sergi and Toto when he arrives there. He can’t let them see this injury or they’ll take him to a hospital and he’s already written that off the list of acceptable options.

 

So he has to figure it out himself. 

 

There’s no chance that he’s going to be able to save his finger. He’s not a doctor, he doesn’t know how to reattach the blood vessels and the nerves. Once he’s alone, he’ll have to finish the job, clean the wound, and do whatever he can to stitch it shut.

 

He groans, lying down on the cool metal of the train to keep himself hidden from passengers as they pass through stations and people get on and off. Kimi closes his eyes, his right hand moving to his waist to grab at his charms for some kind of comfort.

 

But his charms are nowhere to be found.

 

Right now he doesn’t even have the strength to panic. He’s too tired, too hurt, too disoriented to feel anything other than a dull sadness that ebbs and flows through him. He’s already lost himself, now he’s lost this too.

 

If there was any part of him that was still him, it’s gone now.

 

The return journey to the hotel is dreadfully slow. The passenger train stops at every station, and Kimi can do nothing but lie there and wait until the landscape looks familiar. But lying there is the easy part of it. Getting off the train is harder, and traversing from the railway to the hotel is even worse. Kimi elects to walk. It’s late at night and he’s hardly journeying along a main road. If someone’s coming, he’ll use his right arm to swing out of sight and keep from being caught, but in the end he only uses his web to make his way back to his hotel room, anchoring it to his balcony and pulling himself up slowly. 

 

His whole body is clammy with sweat and he’s dreadfully pale as he opens the door to his room, and he finds himself - just as he’d anticipated - staring at Toto and Sergi. A conversation with them is entirely unavoidable, and he just has to play his part for long enough that they’ll leave him alone. As long as their concern never trumps their anger, he’ll be given the space he needs to deal with what’s happened.

 

When he enters, he keeps his injured hand firmly behind him and focuses on holding himself tall and proud. If he looks confident, if he acts like a predator rather than the prey, everything will be okay. He can do it.

 

“Toto,” he nods in acknowledgement. “Sergi.”

 

“You look like shit, mate,” Sergi mutters. “Are you okay?”

 

It seems impossible that, after everything, Sergi is still loyal. He’s got a bruise on his forehead after the Wasp knocked him out cold, he’s got friction burns on his legs and arms from being dragged unceremoniously by Kimi. Even after Kimi’s behaviour on and off track, he’s still checking on his well being before he does anything else.

 

“Nothing is wrong,” Kimi snarls defensively.

 

He squares his shoulders up as if he’s about to fight. Confident as he might be, he’s pretty sure one swing would be enough for him to pass out from his injury.

 

“Pedro told us someone took you,” Toto steps in. “You were at the refinery, weren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Kimi confirms, because he isn’t going to lie.

 

“Kimi, please, tell us what’s happening,” Sergi beseeches.

 

It’s not lost on Kimi that, if he’d asked that question a few weeks ago, he might have had enough time to piece the puzzle together. Even a few hours ago, when he was still there, those words could’ve meant something. But now it’s too late. He doesn’t feel any kind of remorse with that realisation, instead he just feels… Free. 

 

“Andrea, if you don’t stop behaving like this I’ll be forced to rescind your contract,” Toto tells him firmly.

 

Good cop and bad cop. Kimi scoffs. 

 

“I’m not in breach of any clauses,” he reminds them.

 

And, technically, that’s true. No one knows that Kimi Antonelli is the Silver Spider. No one thinks he’s been part of any of the heroism or villainy over the past few months. He’s completely and utterly removed from it all, and that means that he’s acting perfectly within the terms of his contract. So long as no one finds out the truth, Toto can’t budge. Unless, of course, he wants the Board to know what he’s kept hidden from them all this time. Unless he wants to publicly involve himself and the team in the situation. 

 

“Besides,” he continues with a smirk. “You aren’t all-powerful. The Board let you sign me, hm? We both know I’m exceeding the targets they set.”

 

Kimi takes a step closer, shoulders back, staring Toto in the eye. There’s no sign that he notices how terrible he looks, or the fact that his eyes are holding back tears. 

 

“Or, maybe you want to explain to the shareholders what you’ve been doing with the team's money, eh? Maybe you want to show them my gear, my suit, everything that could implicate you in this. How do they know we’re not on the same side?” He snarls.

 

The words seem to work as intended, because Toto finally backs down. He rests his hands on his hips and lets out a sigh, defeated. 

 

“Go to bed, Andrea,” he tells him quietly. “Stay out of trouble.”

 

Kimi just grins, watching the two leave with their heads hung low in the shame of their loss. The moment the door clicks shut, Kimi practically collapses forwards. He gasps in pain, whimpering and whining as he stumbles shakily towards the bathroom. He slams the door and locks it behind him - just in case there’s another key card he doesn’t know about that could let them into the room once more. The first thing he does is turn on the faucet to run warm water, and then he grabs a small, clean hand towel to use to wrap his left hand up when he needs to. But then it’s the moment of truth, and Kimi knows what he has to do.

 

His right hand quivers uncontrollably as he removes the mask and glove from his left, wincing at the sight of the vicious wound. Between the burns and the blood it’s a nasty thing to look at, but the way that his finger dangles lifelessly is the worst part of it. He takes a breath, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he braces himself for the removal of the limb. 

 

Kimi feels sick as he raises his arm, holding his left hand still with his right wrapped around its wrist, and he opens his eyes briefly to see where he needs to position himself.

 

He tries to pretend he’s just going to rip off a hangnail as he clamps his teeth around the tip of his almost amputated finger, and he snaps his eyes shut one last time. Before he can think too hard about what’s happening, he jerks his head to the side and feels an excruciating rip of skin as his finger finally becomes entirely severed from his hand. It opens a fresh wound and more blood pours out, coating his teeth and tongue and dripping down his lips and chin. The taste of his own burned flesh imprints in his mind far faster than he’d like it too, searing on his mind in a way that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget. It makes his stomach turn.

 

Ironically, having flesh and bone already in his mouth gives him something to bite down on and muffle his screams.

 

When he spits his finger out he finds himself gagging, and he leans forward to grab the basin with both hands in case he’s sick. He heaves, body moving back and forth desperately, but nothing comes out, and he’s relieved he didn’t touch the dinner that Sergi had brought him earlier.

 

It takes a moment before the weakness in his body passes, before he feels as though he can stand without his knees risking giving way beneath him, and Kimi finally manages to put his hand beneath the stream of water that flows readily from the tap. His breathing is still heavy and uncomfortable, and he attempts to distract his mind from the worst of it by looking down at the rest of his body to examine his other injuries. The suit is dented with bits of shrapnel and the decoration has mostly melted away from the heat of the fire, but for the most part he’s gotten away with what happened. It’s nothing that a few bandages, creams, and painkillers can’t solve.

 

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

 

As the water in the sink starts to run clear (or at least, less intensely red) he reaches for the towel to dab his wound dry and wrap it up loosely as he steps shakily back into the bedroom.

 

He might have pushed away his parents, but their influence is still all around him. And right now, that takes the form of an emergency sewing kit in his bag that his mother always insisted on keeping with him. An open wound from an unconventionally amputated finger isn’t quite the button or zip she warned him about needing to fix in a pinch, but it’s the best he’s got.

 

Kimi settles on the edge of the bed, holding the thread in his left hand and the needle in his right. It’s difficult trying to thread it - even if his pinky finger isn’t essential to this process it doesn’t stop his hand from shaking. The pain is unbearable, seemingly getting worse with every passing second as shock and adrenaline slowly leave his system, and it’s already difficult to think. But it’s going to get an awful lot worse.

 

By the time the needle is finally threaded, the sheets beneath Kimi are red with blood. He has to keep going, or he’s going to be in even more trouble. So he repositions himself, sitting cross-legged and resting his left elbow on his knee, trying to find a way to really stabilise his hand. He bites the inside of his cheek as he ignores his instincts, screaming at him not to push a needle into an already open wound, but he uses every ounce of strength to overrule that with the knowledge that if he doesn’t do this, it’s just going to get worse.

 

He pushes his hand forwards and manages to pierce the skin, moaning in pain as he haphazardly stitches back and forth to pull the wound closed. Blood keeps dripping down, coating his fingers with a slick ichor that only makes sewing more challenging. It means that the process of closing up the wound takes longer than he’d like it to - or maybe his perception of time has just been skewed by the constant ramping up of pain. At least, when he finally ditches the needle and bites off the end of the thread, his finger isn’t bleeding anymore.

 

Kimi considers going back to the bathroom and retrieving his finger, but decides against it. It’s not going to be in any state to reattach, even if he can somehow find someone to help with that. So instead he lets himself fall back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he shakes and shivers. His whole body aches, and he desperately needs to sleep and recover from his ordeal, but as he does - as he closes his eyes and tries to let unconsciousness consume him - he hears a scuttling sound.

 

Despite his exhaustion he sits back up and looks in the direction it’s coming from. Still hiding - back behind the menu instead of under his rucksack - is Pedro.

 

Pedro. The spy. The one that betrayed him.

 

He can’t be there. Pedro has to go. Pedro will relay this information to Toto and Sergi if he doesn’t get rid of him. An obvious solution - the easiest solution, really - is to simply press the sensor and turn him off, but Kimi has far grander ideas to make sure that Pedro can never snoop on him again. He forces himself to his feet once more, ignoring the way that his whole body sags under the weight of pain as he approaches the trembling robot.

 

He crouches down with a groan, holding out his right hand and placing it flat on the desk for Pedro to approach. He doesn’t at first, clearly too afraid. Without his mask or his watch he can’t see anything that Pedro is saying to him, but he assumes that it isn’t good. 

 

“It’s okay,” Kimi assures gently, offering Pedro a weak smile. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

 

He tilts his head, trying to look as unthreatening as possible, in a way that clearly has the desired effect. Pedro begins to creep slowly forwards, one leg at a time, until he makes his way into the palm of Kimi’s hand.

 

Kimi’s expression changes, from a smile of comfort and reassurance to one of wicked cruelty. 

 

“You,” he whispers, leaning down and hissing in his tiny camera eyes. “Are nothing but a nuisance, hm? That’s all you are. Irritating–”

 

He grabs a leg with his thumb and forefinger and plucks it from its socket, dropping it unceremoniously on the desk.

 

“-- And loud–” 

 

Another leg.

 

“-- Distracting–”

 

A third leg.

 

“-- And useless.” 

 

He closes his fingers around the robot in a flash, snapping the remainder of his spindly metal legs with ease. They crunch and shatter, falling to the floor of the hotel room, as he storms out to the balcony. He doesn’t think twice before he throws the hunk of metal out of the window, watching as it lands in the grass several long seconds later with a dense thud.

 

Pedro is gone, but Kimi isn’t about to stop there. To be sure he’s free, he has to leave. He has to find the Hornet and the Wasp. He has to move. Now. 

 

He pushes through the mental wall and compartmentalises the pain of a poorly amputated finger, gathering his things from across the room, his feet crunching over Pedro’s legs as he moves. He doesn’t need it all - he can leave his suitcase and heavier luggage behind - but he packs his bag full of clothes and the necessities. His wallet, his passport, the things that he simply cannot be without. He strips out of his suit and pulls on some regular clothes, shoving his suit in the bag with a few other clothes to keep him from running naked across an Eastern European country at any point in the foreseeable future. Operating on autopilot, he reaches for his notepad, but before he can shove that into his bag he hesitates.

 

Kimi opens it to a page at random and looks at what’s there. Data from the Japanese Grand Prix, notes about potential strategies, the best way to warm up a tyre, and whether it’s better to undercut and overcut. And, scribbled across the page and in the margins, doodles of love hearts and initials, numbers added together. ‘12 + 87’ is written two dozen times up and down the length of the page. 

 

He rips the page out, crumpling it up in his right hand and throwing it into the trash by the side of the desk. He doesn’t need that anymore. He doesn’t need any of it anymore. He pulls out page after page after page, shredding the paper like confetti and throwing it into the air around him. Kimi giggles as it showers him, fluttering down towards the blood stained carpet, his giggles quickly descending into hysterical laughter as he pulls his bag over his shoulder. 

 

Kimi walks out of his hotel room without a care in the world. He feels light as he skips along, shoulders free of the burden they’ve been carrying for months now. Finally, after so long, he feels at peace. He feels relief. 

 

He feels happy. 

 

+ + +

 

[PEDRO REQUIRES ASSISTANCE!]

 

[PLEASE… HELP… PEDRO…!]

 

[PLEASE…]

 

[CAN ANYONE… HEAR PEDRO…]

 

[PLEASE]

 

[FIND PEDRO]

 

[PPPPPP LEEAS EE]

 

Notes:

TLDR - Kimi bites his finger and pulls it off.

Another super fun chapter in the books! I just got paid today so if you're wanting to get those therapy invoices paid I'd recommend getting them in sooner rather than later. Get your anger out through the comments section, or come yell at me personally through Tumblr and Discord :-) (And if you come to Tumblr, you can come give your verdict on the Fuck, Marry, Kill of the Hornet, the Wasp, and the Silver Spider)

And, finally, everyone say thank you Reo for designing the fabulous Wasp. Go give them some love on Tumblr for another incredible piece!!

( art by reo / helcef )

Chapter 9: Issue 9: Dammed if You Do

Silverstone, United Kingdom
Sunday 06 July 2025

 

Sergi has been deeply concerned about Kimi since he disappeared before his very eyes on Thursday afternoon, and that worry hasn’t gone away despite the time that’s passed. He barely slept that night, working around the clock to try and figure out where the Hornet might’ve taken Kimi, and what he might have done with him, only getting some rest after falling asleep in Kimi’s driver room in the motorhome - his laptop slipping out of his lap and onto the floor, totally depleted of battery. When he awoke to a phone call from Toto, telling him he knew where Kimi was and he was fetching him home, he prepared for the worst.

 

His injuries were awful, but the team were briefed for it: Kimi wanted to race, so no one was to talk about what happened and everyone was duty bound to enable him to perform to the best of his abilities.

 

For most people that was fine, for Sergi it was Hell. Watching him struggle with the fresh wounds on his wrists, not being able to talk to him about what happened to figure out if he needed more support, watching him slowly spiral… He desperately wanted to go behind Toto’s back and ignore his request not to bring what happened to the discussion after Kimi’s outburst in front of the media, but he didn’t. He towed the line. He followed orders. He did exactly what he was told.

 

But the race is over now. Kimi scraped a few points and stormed off, and Sergi’s trying to balance his concern with the need to give him space. It’s a difficult position to be in. 

 

No one in the world knows Kimi the way that he does. He knows what he needs on a bad day, he knows how he needs to be coached mentally to get him into the headspace to race. He knows how to pick him up when he’s beating himself up, how best to sing his praises when his confidence is high. He knows how much becoming a superhero has affected him, how much more weight he carries on his shoulders, the way that responsibility bears down on him. 

 

Kimi’s been through things no one should ever have to go through. He’s saved his father from a mad man in a shopping mall in Saudi Arabia, he’s stopped a plane full of people from being used for God knows what in America, he’s almost drowned in the warm waters of the Monaco harbour… He’s not surprised that Kimi’s mental health has taken a hit, and now that there’s a couple of weeks between races he hopes he’ll have Toto’s blessing to talk to Kimi about what’s going on. Maybe they can find a solution to the stress he’s under, to help combat the trauma and bring the old Kimi back. It’s not great PR for the team if he’s crashing and lashing out, but frankly Sergi doesn’t give two shits about bad PR. What he cares about is Kimi, and Kimi desperately needs his help.

 

After what feels like both too much and too little time, Sergi knocks softly against the door to Kimi’s driver room and pushes it open. He needs to get the balance right, too much concern might leave him feeling like he’s being pitied or babied, too much disappointment for how he’s behaved this weekend might make him feel isolated, like everything is his fault. 

 

His hands find his hips and he sighs gently, letting the door close behind him for some privacy.

 

“Talk to me, Kimi,” he encourages gently, eyes scanning the man in front of him.

 

Sergi’s known Kimi since he was just a child. He’s helped him through broken bones, through the highs and lows of single seater racing, but the expression on his face is like nothing he’s ever seen before. It almost looks like Kimi’s face is made up of entirely different features, like he doesn’t even remotely resemble himself despite looking identical to how he usually would. There’s anger in his eyebrows and his frown, but his bloodshot eyes are a clear sign of the upset he’s feeling. Sergi can’t imagine what it’s like to be in his head right now, ravaged by more emotions than most people would experience in their lives.

 

“Fuck you,” Kimi replies fiercely.

 

Sergi can’t pretend it’s a response he didn’t see coming. He’s gone through the decision tree in his head, he’s worked out all the things that could happen here - anger, fear, heartbreak… Kimi might try and bottle things up some more, he might try and push him away, or he might fight it. Still, he finds himself blinking a couple of times as he processes the words and tries to recalibrate his approach.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“I said,” Kimi repeats, his voice wavering as he steps forward. “Fuck. You.” 

 

Sergi looks down as Kimi prods his chest softly, and he hears a choked sob that almost sounds like a laugh leaving the young man before him. Kimi, whatever has happened to him over the last few days, is barely holding on. He sounds completely and utterly broken. He needs help, Sergi has to find a way to help him.

 

“Fuck you, and fuck this whole team! You’re using me, I know it!”

 

That takes him by surprise. If there’s one thing he doesn’t expect to be accused of, it’s the team using him. Before he has an opportunity to ask him why he thinks that, Kimi turns on his heels and grabs his bag, changing into his regular clothes, taking the things he needs and getting ready to leave. 

 

“Kimi, calm down, you have a debrief with the team in 10 minutes,” he reminds. 

 

He just needs to keep him here long enough to come up with a proper plan. If Kimi goes to the debrief, Sergi will have the time he needs to figure out what the next steps are. But as Kimi pulls his bag onto his shoulders, it becomes obvious that he doesn’t plan on waiting around.

 

“I have nothing to say. Tell Bono to get fucked, tell Toto to get fucked, and tell the team the car is shit.” 

 

Sergi feels his breath catch in his throat and he watches as Kimi pushes past him, narrowly missing the arm that he outstretches to try and catch him. He can’t stop Kimi from leaving, and as he watches the man go he’s left reeling from what just happened.

 

He sags, sitting down on the bed at the side of the room, putting his head in his hands as he exhales and composes himself. He’s sick with worry, and if he doesn’t get a hold of himself first then he’s never going to be able to help Kimi. Maybe he just needs a couple of days off, at home, to recover from whatever’s happened. Maybe by Tuesday he’ll be ready to talk. Whatever went down whilst he was in the Hornet’s grasp, he can only assume it was awful. He’ll be there when Kimi is ready to talk to him.

 

Sergi looks around the room at what’s been left behind, scanning for anything important he ought to take with him. The motorhome will make its way to Francorchamps, so he can leave anything that isn’t going to be immediately useful behind, and Kimi does look to have accounted for the necessities. He’s left a notebook behind, though, and Sergi goes to pick it up assuming that it will be needed when he eventually does show up at the factory to start going over the learning from the weekend and preparing for the next race.

 

Go fuck yourself, Sergi.

 

He frowns as he looks at the words staring back at him. Sergi likes to think, as an adult, he’s gotten pretty good at shrugging off the insults that come his way. People’s opinions don’t matter unless they’re the people that are close to him. The words rattle him despite that, but not because they make him feel bad. Rather, because this isn’t like Kimi at all.

 

He’s really starting to worry about what might have happened on Thursday.

 

Half the page has been torn out, and Sergi looks around the room. He spots a crumpled up ball in the corner, taking one long stride to cross the small space and crouching down to pick it up. Unfolding it, his eyes glance over the hastily scribbled words.

 

Sergi, there is nothing to worry about. I am just doing what I was always meant to do. Regards, Andrea.

 

He swallows, moving his hand further up the paper to straighten it out completely. He has to narrow his eyes and focus to really be able to decipher it, scribbled out with harsh lines of ink.

 

Sergi. I am completely fine. Disregard your concerns. Sincerely, Andrea.

 

Something feels dreadfully, awfully wrong. The concerns, that he will now not be disregarding, only grow and intensify. This situation no longer feels like an immediate reaction to something that happened on Thursday, to a sudden saturation of how much horror he can be exposed to before he snaps, it feels like something more. Something more dangerous, something more sinister, something more frightening.

 

Sergi folds the note up and tucks it into his pocket as he gets to his feet. There’s nothing he can do about it right now, all he can do is wait for Kimi to come back to him. But when he does, he’s going to get to the bottom of what’s going on.

 

+ + +

 

Francorchamps, Belgium
Saturday 26 July 2025

 

Guilt consumes Sergi like nothing he’s ever felt before.

 

Waking up in the early hours of the morning, expecting to go and help Kimi prepare for a long day of a Sprint Race and a Qualifying session, he couldn’t have predicted what he’d see upon turning over his phone and swiping to a news app. Even now, hours later, standing outside Kimi’s driver room like a bodyguard, he can’t quite believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t care how clear the footage is, Kimi can’t have done something like that. 

 

He might have undergone a major personality shift, he might have gone AWOL for weeks, but this? Standing alongside the Hornet in a major escalation of violence? It can’t be Kimi.

 

Even if he found the suit in Kimi’s room, with purple details instead of teal. Even if he smelled like soot and rain and death. Even if he was smirking, joking about his ‘new friend’. 

 

Sergi can’t stop thinking about Silverstone. Those missing hours are key to unravelling exactly what’s happening to Kimi. The only issue is, Kimi won’t talk about them. Kimi is the only person that knows what happened in that time, except for the Hornet himself, and even with Kimi’s recent attitude adjustment he still feels like the one least likely to kill him. But that doesn’t make him any more likely to talk.

 

And so Sergi is left without anything to go on. No clues, no hints, nothing. How he’s supposed to help his friend when he’s so desperately in the dark, he doesn’t know, but he has to. 

 

He’s been wondering without any kind of structure since he locked Kimi in his driver room, sitting on the ground with his chin in his hands as he stares absent-mindedly at the wall opposite him. He’s trying to brainstorm a solution to this impossible situation for what feels like an eternity, but he just hits brick wall after brick wall. Every theory he has is useless, or wrong, or implausible. Sergi knows that he’s out of his depth, but he knows that being out of his depth is no excuse for giving up on Kimi.

 

Doriane Pin’s face appears suddenly in front of him.

 

Sergi startles, moving backwards, and the woman retreats from where she’d ducked her head low enough to attract his attention. She seems pleased with this. 

 

“Is he in there?” Doriane asks - she doesn’t need to say who.

 

Sergi nods his head.

 

“Can I go in?”

 

He blinks.

 

“You want to go in?”

 

“I need to talk to him.” 

 

Sergi gets to his feet, running his hands over his trousers as he looks at Doriane. Letting her in feels risky with Kimi in this state, he’s got no idea what he’s capable of. Sure, she can hold her own, but he’s just killed hundreds of people, maybe more. But turning her away feels equally risky, because he’s just confirmed that Kimi is in there and if he says no she’s going to ask questions. Smart questions. 

 

“He’s sleeping,” Sergi lies.

 

Doriane sighs, looking up at him pointedly.

 

“I know, Sergi,” she tells him simply.

 

This is news to Sergi.

 

“You… Know?” 

 

“I know,” she nods, looking around before leaning in to whisper to him. “He saved my life in Canada, I know. And I need to talk to him. I saw what happened last night.”

 

Sergi bites the inside of his cheek, but the words from Doriane convince him that she really does know. This isn’t an attempt at sneaking past him, this is a confession that they’re on the same page. She knows what she’s getting into.

 

“Two minutes,” he says. “If you want to come out earlier, knock on the door, shout my name. The door stays locked.”

 

Doriane nods her head, agreeing to his terms, and Sergi lets his shoulders fall. He hopes, he prays, that this isn’t another wrong decision.

 

Sergi knocks softly on the door, clicking the lock and pushing it open. He can see Kimi, sitting up on the bed, watching him as Doriane steps inside and he closes the door behind her. Once it’s locked, he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts a stopwatch. Two minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds. If he hears anything bad happening, he’ll open the door and pull Doriane out. One scream, one thud, that’s all it’ll take. Enough people have died, more don’t have to follow suit, but maybe… Maybe Kimi will talk to her. It’s unlikely, of course, but he’s not responding to any of Sergi’s attempts to communicate. It’s the best chance he’s got.

 

“I’d like to come out now, Sergi.”

 

The words are accompanied by firm knocks, eighty seven seconds in, and Sergi is quick to open the door and extract Doriane from the situation. He’s not heard anything that would indicate a physical altercation, but as he locks the door behind them once more she’s cupping one hand with the other and wringing them anxiously back and forth. He stares at her as she paces, not sure what to say. None of his training ever covered a situation like this.

 

Eventually she stops moving, plants her feet in the ground, and stares up at him with big, frightened eyes.

 

“Sergi, I think I know what’s wrong with Kimi,” she whispers.

 

The conversation ends there. Sergi goes through Kimi’s warm up with him a little while later, takes him to the Mercedes garage, helps him into his helmet and wipes his shoes as he climbs into his car. He goes through the usual procedures, his obligations as a personal trainer. He keeps Kimi sheltered from the rain, he keeps him cool, he stands guard on the grid whilst Bono talks to him about keeping the intermediate tyres in good condition. And once Kimi is in the car, once Sergi can excuse himself from the back of the Mercedes garage and walk back into an empty motorhome, he returns to Kimi’s driver room.

 

He sits on the bed whilst Doriane sits in a chair, and he places two recyclable cups on the table between them - filled with piping hot tea that steams through the small gap in the plastic lids.

 

“You know what’s wrong with him?” Sergi breaks the silence, finally daring to hope for an answer.

 

“I think so,” she exhales.

 

Doriane takes her cup, pops off the lid, and fidgets anxiously with a stirrer. She’s clearly uncomfortable with this conversation, so he doesn’t comment on it. He needs this information from her and so he gives her the time she needs to be ready to share it. But a Sprint Race is only so long, he’ll have to go to the Mercedes garage to chaperone Kimi again soon.

 

“In Canada,” she starts. “The Hornet… Took me.” 

 

No wonder she’s uncomfortable explaining things. Sergi nods silently, offering encouragement to go on.

 

“I don’t remember a lot of it,” she admits. “One minute I was filming something with the social media team and the next… Everyone was unconscious, someone was carrying me up a ladder, I was on a huge platform at the top of a circus tent. And the man, he put something in my mouth.”

 

Doriane pauses, still playing with the stirrer. She bends it back and forth as far as it will flex, over and over again.

 

“And I did whatever he told me,” she finally finishes. “He made me do tricks on the string, what’s it called?”

 

“The high wire?” 

 

Doriane nods.

 

“I was flipping and jumping and running, I remember feeling… Trapped. I was helpless. I couldn’t control anything my body did, I just watched as it happened.” Doriane exhales. “It was petrifying. When it wore off I remember falling, and Kimi caught me.”

 

Sergi processes this information slowly, chewing on his fingernails as he thinks through the implications of it. If Doriane was under the control of the Hornet, for however short a period of time, it’s entirely possible that Kimi could be too. He was with the Hornet for more than enough time to ingest whatever that liquid was - either by force or by choice. Maybe the reason his wrists were so badly injured was because it’d been pumped directly into his veins. 

 

“You said it wore off?” He says quietly, and Doriane nods.

 

“After a few minutes,” she agrees. “But I only had a few drops.”

 

It makes him feel quite queasy. Doriane only had a few drops and she became a passenger for minutes. If Kimi’s been like this for weeks, he dreads to think how much he ingested. And Doriane, she seems truly shaken by what happened to her. She only experienced it for a few minutes. He can’t imagine how terrified the real Kimi is underneath the façade the Hornet has plastered over him.

 

“How do we fix it?” Sergi asks.

 

“It just wore off for me,” Doriane shrugs. “But he used it on me in Canada… I don’t know if it changed before Silverstone. Maybe he found a way for it to…”

 

She trails off, but Sergi doesn’t need to hear the unspoken words to understand the implication. That Kimi might be trapped in his head forever, nothing more than a servant to the Hornet for the rest of time. And then what options do they have? If they can’t stop him, they have to apprehend him. He can’t be allowed to hurt people, even if it isn’t him doing it. 

 

“I have to go now,” Doriane tells him. “But if I can help with helping him… Tell me, alright? He’s my friend.”

 

Sergi nods. 

 

“Of course,” he says quietly. “Thank you for telling me. You’ve already done a lot to help him.”

 

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she admits, pressing the lid back on her cup of tea as she gets to her feet.

 

“I wouldn’t have known where to start,” Sergi whispers, watching as she picks the cup up and holds it to warm her hands. “I knew something was wrong but… That was it. I didn’t know anything about mind control. Now we have something to go on. Now we can find a way to save him.”

 

“I hope we can,” she agrees. “I’ll be in the Netherlands to race, maybe I’ll see you then?”

 

Sergi nods. He’s got a lot to think about between now and Zandvoort. Namely, finding a way to save Kimi. But right now he has to focus on his day job, and he takes his cup of lukewarm tea with him as he leaves the room behind Doriane and wanders back down to the garage. As soon as he can get Toto alone, he’s going to tell him everything Doriane told him. He’s going to fix this. He’s going to save Kimi.

 

+ + +

 

Budapest, Hungary
Friday 01 August 2025

 

Despite the urgency of things, Sergi had been unable to get a moment alone with Toto to talk. That was the nature of a double header, he supposed. There’d been no time to pause, no time to catch a breath, and no time to pull an incredibly busy man aside and talk to him about the driver with superpowers. It’d been frustrating not to be able to have the conversation he needed to have, but every time he thought he spotted Toto he’d escaped before he’d managed to cross the room to corner him. It meant that all Sergi had been able to do was guard Kimi, take him from place to place, and try to keep him under control. It was working brilliantly, until it wasn’t just Kimi he had to account for.

 

It wasn’t the Hornet, either. It was a new character entirely. Sergi had barely been able to register his appearance before he was on the floor, and the next time he opened his eyes…

 

Talking to Kimi was a disaster, and now Sergi is hurting.

 

It’s not the head wound that hurts him the most - although the stranger that attacked him could certainly pack a punch, his head still aching and the world around him still spinning - it’s the fact that Kimi is so clearly hurting. His desperate pleas for information were as useful as Toto’s threats, and Kimi’s only pushing them further and further away. Nothing seems to be working when it comes to getting through to him, but at least, if nothing else, Sergi finally has time to talk to Toto. He can’t worm his way out of a conversation this time.

 

They walk from Kimi’s hotel room, Toto half a step ahead of Sergi. He keeps his head high and his shoulders back as he observes the man before him. At the end of the day, Toto is his boss just as much as he’s Kimi’s boss, but the dynamic between them is different. Kimi has always been like a son to him, a generational talent he’s sought to nurture and shape over the years. Sergi sees the light in his eyes whenever they talk, the same way he sees it when Toto talks about Jack or Susie. He’s always wanted what’s best for Kimi, always doing whatever he can to take care of him whether that’s personally or professionally.

 

But lately the light in his eyes has gone, and that love has been replaced with the heavy burden of something else.

 

“We can fix this,” Sergi says confidently as they start to descend through an empty stairwell. “This isn’t Kimi.”

 

His words echo around them, just as their syncopated footsteps do, but there’s no reply from Toto. He remains steadfast and silent the entire walk back to his hotel room, Sergi following him dutifully. This conversation needs to happen, and until it does - or until he’s dismissed - he’ll follow. Taking care of Kimi has become so much more than he’d bargained for when he first signed that contract from Toto, but he’s not going to walk out on him. Not when Kimi’s become just as important to him as he has done to Toto. 

 

Sometimes, he dares to let himself think that Kimi might be more important to him. 

 

Toto only lets any kind of emotion show when they reach his hotel room, through the form of a sigh as he scans his key card and lets himself in. He tries to close the door, but Sergi’s quick to put his foot in the gap and prevent himself from being locked out.

 

Kimi needs them. He won’t let Toto run from it. 

 

It barely takes a moment for the man to break, giving up and walking across the room. Sergi steps inside behind him and closes the door softly whilst Toto crouches down in front of a mini fridge under the desk. He takes out a small bucket of ice and uses tongs to place some into two glass tumblers - one large cube in each - before uncorking a bottle with a clear amber liquid. He swirls it around and gives it a sniff, then pours a healthy amount into each glass.

 

One of those glasses is held out for Sergi, whilst Toto wastes no time in starting to sip from his own. 

 

Sergi doesn’t drink much, and he has no intentions of drinking this, but for the sake of keeping the peace - and keeping to the social etiquette - he takes it. He holds the glass carefully between his fingers, staring at the rim, whilst Toto takes another sip of the liquor.

 

“We can help him,” Sergi reinforces, finding the confidence to look up at his boss. “We can help Kimi.”

 

Toto’s response is once again wordless. This time he looks up, moving towards his own balcony. He doesn’t leave the room itself, just looks out the window, staring forlorn into the dark night. When Sergi follows his gaze he can see the smoke that billows from the burning refinery.

 

“This isn’t Kimi,” Sergi repeats. “I spoke to Doriane.”

 

“What does she have to do with this?” Toto finally asks, his voice gruff and low.

 

“In Canada,” he starts. “She was drugged by the Hornet.”

 

The silence that fills the room is tense. Sergi tilts his head a little, keeping his vision on Toto, watching as he slowly but surely starts to process the information that’s being provided to him. 

 

“The Hornet made Kimi crash in Austria,” Sergi continues. “And in Silverstone, he kidnapped him. Do you really think that Kimi is suddenly on his side because he wants to be?” 

 

Toto still says nothing, letting his shoulders fall as he takes another drink. Sergi doesn’t think too much of it. He’s had the better part of a week to come to terms with Doriane’s confession, of course it’s going to take some time to really sink in for Toto. 

 

“The Hornet is controlling our Kimi,” Sergi says, confident in his theory. “We can’t give up on him without letting the Hornet win. Our Kimi is still in there, he needs saving, we have to do something.”

 

“And what if he isn’t?” Toto challenges. “What if you’re wrong? We just help the monster that’s replaced him?”

 

Without knowing exactly what’s going through Toto’s head, the words sound harsh. But again, how can he blame him? 

 

“I’ll save him,” Sergi promises. “I’ll do everything I can. I’ll save him. But I need you to help me, I need the team to help me. There has to be something that can reverse the drug, an antidote. If you can make it, I can bring him back. I promise.”

 

He steps forward and holds out his hand for Toto to shake.

 

“You can fire me if I fail.”

 

Outwardly, his confidence must seem misplaced. Kimi’s fallen so far, done such terrible things, and even if what Doriane has said about a drug is true there’s no telling that Kimi can recover from what’s happened to him. Silverstone was nearly a month ago, his mind might be too far gone to be saved by an antidote, but what is he supposed to do? Just let Kimi go? No, saving Kimi isn’t a choice, it’s not an option, it’s the only way forward. Kimi needs them more than ever right now.

 

Toto’s tongue presses against his cheek as he thinks, and Sergi watches without moving an inch. He doesn’t pull his hand back, he doesn’t let the desperation fade from his face. He will save Kimi, whether Toto wants to be involved or not.

 

“I just don’t want to make things worse,” he says quietly after a long moment, his stare returning to the inferno on the horizon.

 

And Sergi… He understands. He understands because he’s terrified of that too. He’s terrified that anything he chooses to do could be the wrong thing. Kimi could end up hurt, or worse, but what other option does he have? Standing to one side and letting this continue? Just waiting for the Hornet to sink his claws into him so deeply that escape is impossible? That eventuality still ends with Kimi experiencing a horrible, painful, lonely death. 

 

He’s just a kid. 

 

“Then let me do this,” he whispers. “Let me save him. I need resources, and time, but I’ll do it.”

 

After a final moment of reluctance, Sergi feels Toto’s hand wrap around his. They shake. Relief flows over him like a wave, before being quickly replaced by the pressure of knowing that he’s the one who has to save Kimi. 

 

He’s got no idea how to do it, just that he has to do it.

 

A soft thud from outside catches his attention, pulling Sergi out of his focus, and it’s quickly followed up by the incessant buzzing of a watch on Toto’s desk. Sergi drops Toto’s hand and wanders across the room to pick up the device, whilst Toto walks closer to the window. He brushes the watch with his fingers, the screen coming to life as an influx of messages pour in.

 

[CAN ANYONE… HEAR PEDRO…]

 

[PLEASE]

 

[FIND PEDRO]

 

[PPPPPP LEEAS EE]

 

Sergi swallows, pocketing the watch and turning his head to Toto as he joins him at the window. 

 

“Did you see where it landed?” He asks.

 

“No.”

 

Sergi doesn’t bother asking any more questions before he runs out, bounding out of the room and down the corridor. He makes his way down the hotel stairs quickly, taking them two at a time and putting his weight on the bannister to jump the last four, before he makes his way to the ground floor. Sergi leaves behind the air conditioned foyer and is met with the heat of a summer evening, and he follows the path around the side of the building until he’s at the back of the hotel. Kimi’s room is on the fifth floor, and he looks up to try and calculate where a throw could’ve left Pedro. Mental maths on the fly has never been his forte, but he’s got a vague idea of where the little robot might have landed. 

 

He commences his search, using his phone torch to light up the blades of grass as he gets onto his knees and starts to look around thoroughly. The last thing he wants to do is stand on the droid. 

 

It takes several minutes but, after carefully combing through the foliage, he can check off his first success in Operation: Save Kimi. 

 

“Pedro?” He asks softly, swapping his phone for the watch and keeping one eye on the screen as he scoops up the robot in his other hand.

 

The poor thing is mangled, all his legs snapped off, his body covered in an inordinate amount of blood. It’s a frightening amount, given that Pedro is a mechanical creature that doesn’t bleed. He feels an urge to rush to find Kimi, to make sure he’s okay, but he knows that isn’t a smart thing to do right now. He has to trust that whatever has happened, he’ll be okay. Acting without thinking is only going to make it harder to pull him back towards the light.

 

Besides, Pedro might have some useful information. Helping him means, in the long run, helping Kimi.

 

[PED D D D D D DRO I II I IIII SS S IN JURR E D]

 

“It’s okay, mate,” Sergi whispers kindly.

 

He stands back up, lifting his hand so it’s about level with his face and Pedro can see him. From here he can tell that his cameras are cracked too, that there’s some damage to his outer shell as well as missing his legs. He’s going to need rebuilding entirely. It’s a miracle that he’s even still able to communicate.

 

“I’ve got you,” he encourages.

 

[S S S S SIILVE  R SP I DDE R IS  H U    U  U RT]

 

“I know,” Sergi says sadly.

 

He runs a finger gently along the robot’s body. Pedro can’t feel it, he’s fairly certain. He doesn’t have a nervous system built into him. But it does bring Sergi some kind of comfort. It makes him feel like he’s doing something good, and - selfishly - he needs that right now. He needs to feel like he’s capable if he’s going to stand a chance of saving Kimi. He doesn’t have superpowers to speak of, he’s just an ordinary man. Unremarkable, simple, and altogether out of his depth.

 

“We’re going to help him,” he assures. “We’re going to help you.”

 

[H H H EELP PE E DRO O O O o o o o?]

 

“I promise,” he nods.

 

Sergi moves his finger slowly to the sensor behind the cameras, pressing down gently. He can’t help but wince as he watches Pedro struggle to retract his broken legs, and as he powers down he sighs softly. The little metal pebble is tucked safely into his pocket, to be returned to Toto and fixed as soon as possible. Even if he’s not in one piece, at least he’s safe.

 

It’s more than can be said for Kimi.

 

+ + +

 

Porto, Portugal
Wednesday 06 August, 2025

 

The start of summer break for Sergi, unlike most people, has been stressful beyond his wildest dreams. Trying to come up with a plan that could feasible work to save Kimi is… It’s a lot more difficult than Kimi lets on when he is the one saving people. He’s trying to find something that can be executed quickly, but that buys enough time for the team back in Brackley to develop everything he’s going to need for it. He’s outnumbered, three to one, so he needs to find a way to balance the odds that have been stacked impossibly against him. So far, every plan he’s come up with has been vetoed by Toto for one reason or another - resources, time, or risk - and he’s had to go back to the drawing board once again, but he knows he can’t just spend summer break planning. 

 

Which is why he’s found himself in Portugal. 

 

Initially, he was looking at flights to Bologna, tracking down Kimi’s family, but he’s not sure he’s ready to face the guilt that speaking to them will surely inflict upon him. He’s carried a secret about their son - who he swore that he’d protect and nurture when he first met them - for years. It seemed fine, at first, not to say a word, but with reflection it now feels like a terrible breach of trust. They handed Kimi over to him, believing he’d be safe, and he failed.

 

He briefly considered, too, making a trip to the Principality, but his conscience stopped him from going there just as quickly. 

 

So he’s in Portugal. Kimi is fuck knows where, doing fuck knows what, and he’s wandering the streets of Porto aimlessly in an attempt to play for time.

 

Pedro - the human - is a logical person to go to for help right now. Because if Sergi knows one thing about Kimi, and he’d like to believe he knows more than one thing about that boy, it’s how much he loves people. It’s always been obvious, but become even more so in his recent acts of heroism: joining the fray because his father was in danger, saving Ollie in Monaco, and his constant fear for his sister’s well being around the Hornet. Kimi loves the people around him deeply, irrevocably, and unapologetically. Sergi can use that against him.

 

Or, for him, he supposes is the better way of putting it. 

 

That doesn’t make the confrontation any easier. Pedro is his guinea pig, because Pedro is the one least likely to take things out on him. He needs to figure out a plan on how to inform people that he needs their help, and this is the best way to do that.

 

Which does mean that, eventually, he stops procrastinating. He stops weaving back and forth through the medieval old town and makes his way towards the apartment that he knows his friend lives in. That’s something that makes it easier too: Sergi and Pedro are friends. Not necessarily as close as Kimi and Pedro were, but close enough that dropping in isn’t that awkward. They worked together closely as Kimi shot up the ranks of Prema, coaching him in unison. This is, without a doubt, the easiest conversation that Sergi is going to have over the next few weeks.

 

Pedro’s apartment isn’t too far from the oceanfront, and from where Sergi lingers outside the door he can see the line between the sea and the sky. Deep, rich blues coming together in contrast with each other. The sound of the waves is carried by the wind to his ears, along with the sounds of families laughing and chattering away. It feels like a knife in his throat. How can they be happy? So much is at stake, so much is on the line!

 

Sergi shakes the thoughts from his head and raises his hand to knock against the door, rapping his knuckles against the surface three times. He hears movement in the apartment, so he plunges his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet to try and look casual. Suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t come. He wishes he’d just found a way to take on the Hornet, this new assistant, and bring Kimi home safely. But Pedro is opening the door before Sergi has the chance to throw himself off the balcony, into the bushes, and start running away, so he’s forced to face the music.

 

Pedro Matos opens the door and steps back to let his friend in. Maybe he says something, but Sergi doesn’t hear it. Rather he’s busy surveying his surroundings to distract himself. He takes his shoes off by the door and places them beside Pedro’s - more battered and buffed from sand than his own. The apartment is small, with a doorway between the living area and Pedro’s bedroom that just about elevates it from a studio to an apartment. It’s not much of a surprise, race engineers rarely live a particularly glamorous life given they spend so much time travelling, and even less so when those race engineers work in the feeder series. Bono probably gets paid Pedro’s salary squared. 

 

That’s mirrored in the rest of the surroundings. The living area is sparsely decorated, and what is there is handmade, personal, heirlooms from family rather than something he’s gone out of his way to buy for himself. The coffee table between the two old, worn sofas is littered with magazines, takeout boxes, and the work he’s brought home with him. Sergi can spot a track map of Monza and another of Baku amidst the papers. 

 

“So,” Pedro breaks the silence, moving to sit back down and gesturing for Sergi to do the same. “Should I assume this isn’t a friendly visit?”

 

Sergi does as he’s instructed, and he perches uncomfortably on the edge of one sofa. He looks at his friend, troubled by how quickly he came to that conclusion.

 

“What makes you think that?” 

 

“Mate, you haven’t said a word since I opened the door. I haven’t seen you that tense since…” He trails off. “Since Kimi got sick in Abu Dhabi.”

 

It’s natural, really, that the conversation would immediately steer towards Kimi. That is, after all, what unites them. It’s the whole reason he’s here too.

 

“You look cheery,” he says sarcastically. 

 

“Yeah, well,” Sergi starts, moving to rub the back of his neck. “Not a lot to be cheerful about right now.”

 

Pedro drops the act immediately, and his face becomes one of concern. Sergi isn’t surprised. He’s in the paddock often enough that he’s just as exposed to the Hornet debacle as everyone else. He hears the rumours, he sees what happens, he was at Silverstone when the Silver Spider was taken. The difference between them is that Sergi knows how Kimi fits into the equation, and Pedro doesn’t.

 

“Is he okay?” Pedro asks.

 

He’s putting the pieces together. Bring up Kimi, see how bad Sergi looks, take his comment and the wider context into consideration… Of course that’s his next question. And it’s one that’s difficult to answer. But this is why Pedro is his guinea pig, he needs to figure out how much he can say. If he says too much, he trusts Pedro not to do anything stupid with the information he gleans. His concern reinforces that he was the right person to come to for this. After years of working closely together, the emotional farewell at the end of last season, the celebration of his Sprint and Feature wins with his engineer… Kimi means so much to so many people, and now they need to prove to him just how deeply that love runs.

 

“Something’s happened,” Sergi admits quietly. “Something bad. He needs your help.”

 

Pedro nods quickly, the atmosphere in the room shifting drastically.

 

“What do you need from me?”

 

Sergi smiles weakly at that - Pedro doesn’t even ask why. Maybe, just maybe, this will work. 

 

“I don’t know the details just yet,” he says. “It’s still a work in progress, mate. But I need you to be okay with staging a kidnapping, and fighting, and dressing up in a tight suit.”

 

Pedro almost looks like he’s thinking for a moment, and that expression is followed up with a chuckle.

 

“Y’know, I don’t think that’s the strangest thing I’ve been asked to do at Prema.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Not even top three, actually.”

 

The mood shifts, and the two of them laugh. Sergi knows that’s true. He remembers watching the videos Kimi and Ollie made together, lurking in the back of the room and taking a few photos of his own to use as blackmail. So now, whenever Kimi says he doesn’t want to do his workout, or he wants a double portion of dessert, Sergi can remind him of the photos of him in the bunny costume that the social media team would love to get their hands on.

 

He sighs softly. Pedro isn’t asking questions, but he still feels compelled to tell him more. It’s unwise, and he knows it, but he’s had to go this long without telling anyone anything. With Kimi out of the picture, talking to Toto just feels impossible. 

 

“You know, he named his spider after you,” he says. 

 

It doesn’t give away too much, but it feels like the right thing to say. 

 

“He has a spider?” 

 

Sergi nods, and he realises his friend just thinks he means a pet. That’s probably for the best, the universe telling him that he shouldn’t be saying any of this at all and giving him a second chance to cover his tracks.

 

“Alright, well, I’ll be in touch,” he offers, putting his hands on his thighs as he pushes himself to stand up. “Thanks for agreeing to help, Pedro.”

 

“I don’t really know what I’ve agreed to do,” Pedro admits. “But if it’s for Kimi, then I’ll do it.”

 

Kimi might not be able to see it right now, with the Hornet’s control so all consuming, but he is loved, and that’s what’s going to save him. He resolves to make sure he’s doing a better job of showing it once they get him back. He’ll hug him, and tell him, and make sure he knows on the good days and the bad days. He’s not going to take him for granted anymore.

 

+ + +

 

Monaco, Monaco
Friday 08 August 2025

 

Sergi knows he needs to act quickly, which is why he wastes no time in travelling to Monaco to climb the ladder of guilt one rung at a time. He spends every waking minute planning how to execute bringing Kimi home safe and sound, and the more he plans the more he realises he’s going to need as many people on his side as possible. It’s a harder balance to strike than he thought - having enough people to help, and not telling so many people that Kimi’s secret somehow gets out - but he feels like he’s getting it right.

 

Pedro needed to know. Doriane already knows. Oliver Bearman is a natural third party to involve, and with any luck he won’t piece things together. Sergi doesn’t claim to be Ollie’s friend in the same way that Kimi is, but after a year working in close proximity to each other in Formula 2 they’re certainly more than just acquaintances. Ollie knows to call him if he can’t reach Kimi, and he sits and listens to Kimi as he rambles endlessly about his long, luscious eyelashes, the freckles on his face, the way his curls sit and how heartbreaking it is whenever he cuts his hair. 

 

Ollie’s made contact with him a lot over the last month, understandably, and Sergi hasn’t been able to reward him with the answers that he’s been looking for. He’s still not going to give him everything, but he hopes he’ll be able to give him something. After all, he’s coming here to ask Ollie to do something stupid all over again, though given his recent escapades with Esteban he knows that Ollie isn’t afraid of doing stupid things.

 

Actually, this is a fact that Sergi has known about Ollie for over a year. It’s the same fact that means his credit cards never come with him to the paddock. He uses his phone, or cash if he really needs to, but nothing that could be swiped and abused by two boys with far too much free time.

 

Sergi has managed to get his address out of him, and so he takes the elevator up to what is almost the top floor of the apartment block, double checking the text from Ollie one last time to be sure he’s going to the right place. It’s by no means the fanciest apartment complex in Monaco, but then even a poor man’s Monaco apartment is worlds away from normality. 

 

The elevator dings and Sergi steps out, walking through the cool corridor to find the apartment he’s looking for. He presses the buzzer by the door and waits to be received.

 

It takes a minute, despite Ollie knowing in advance that he’s coming and Sergi texting him twenty minutes ago when he got off the train. When the door opens, Ollie is eating a bowl full of cereal and standing with a t-shirt on but no trousers, just some boxers protecting his modesty. Maybe Sergi underestimated how close they were. Maybe Ollie considers him a good friend. Or maybe Ollie is just so conditioned to being around mechanics, engineers, and other drivers in his underwear that he doesn’t care anymore.

 

“It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it,” Ollie says in jest, smiling as he shovels another spoonful of some brightly coloured thing into his mouth.

 

“I won’t tell your trainer about that,” Sergi promises him.

 

The first part of summer break is seen as a bit of a blind spot for trainers anyway, especially for the rookies. They’ve worked harder than ever before in their lives, as long as they don’t stray too far from their target weight it’s less of a concern what goes into their bodies. In a week or two they’ll be back on a strict regiment so they’re ready for Zandvoort, but for now they can have a bit of leeway.

 

Sergi steps into his apartment, and he can’t help but look around. It’s open plan, with a large living area, a kitchen with marble countertops and glittering white goods. Sergi will never know this kind of luxury, though for Ollie he’s sure this is only the beginning. A long career in Formula 1, with a Ferrari seat all but promised, means one day he’ll look back on this apartment and think about how cramped it was.

 

“We need to talk about Kimi,” Sergi starts.

 

In retrospect, it’s maybe not the gentlest of openings. It’s a good point of reflection before he speaks to Kimi’s family. He’ll chalk this one up as a learning experience. But now he needs to handle Ollie, who’s looking on with grief, and worry, and concern. And, behind all those emotions, love. So much love. 

 

“Oh my God,” Ollie says quickly, almost choking on his cereal as he closes the door and runs back into the apartment. 

 

His bowl is deposited in the sink and his now free hands come up to tug at his hair. Clearly he’s had it cut recently, Kimi would be distraught. But that isn’t the point right now. 

 

Ollie knows more about the Hornet than most, so he can approach this from a different angle. He can be more open, he can tell something that resembles the truth, and then he needs to find a way to talk Ollie down from the edge that he’s clearly approaching at a rate of knots. 

 

“We think that the Hornet has targeted him,” he reveals, watching Ollie’s face pale. 

 

He falls back onto a stool in the kitchen, elbows clattering against the harsh marble, his hands moving to rub at his eyes. Sergi crosses the apartment quickly, sitting on the stool next to his and reaching out to touch his shoulder in an attempt to console him. He didn’t expect things to go so far south all at once, but he supposes that’s his fault for not realising just how much those words would affect Ollie. Because Ollie cares about Kimi, but Ollie’s been there too, on the receiving end of the Hornet’s wrath. 

 

“The Hornet caused his crash in Austria,” he says, keeping with the facts, not changing his approach but changing his delivery: softer now. “It’s why he missed Practice in Silverstone. And it’s why no one’s seen him since Practice in Hungary.”

 

That’s something that Sergi, too, is trying desperately not to think about. When it came to waking Kimi and escorting him to the track for Practice and Qualifying on Saturday, he was gone, leaving behind a room covered in so much blood that he’d almost been sick. Sergi had searched the room high and low to figure out what was missing - the fact that his wallet and passport were among those items that had disappeared meant that Kimi could be anywhere. As far as the team was concerned, Valtteri did a brilliant job stepping up to keep them in the Constructors’ Championship, but Sergi couldn’t care less about it.

 

Neither Kimi nor the Silver Spider have been seen in the last week, and that terrifies him.

 

“Fuck,” Ollie exclaims against his hands. “I thought he was just ghosting me.”

 

Young love, Sergi thinks to himself. 

 

“It’s my fault,” he insists, which catches Sergi off guard. “I mean, the Hornet kidnapped me in Monaco, he tried to get me again in Silverstone… Kimi’s getting caught in the crossfire, isn’t he? He’s getting hurt by accident because of me. What did I do?!” 

 

Sergi blinks, knowing it’s probably better not to correct Ollie. It’s useful that he doesn’t know the truth, even if it means he can’t relieve him of the unnecessary guilt that he’s experiencing. That will come when the Hornet is dispatched of, a day that Sergi hopes will be sooner rather than later. He isn’t naive enough to assume that he can save Kimi and take out the Hornet at the same time, and his priority is saving Kimi. 

 

Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe he should put the rest of the world above his friend. He can’t bring himself to do that, though. Kimi has given so much to protect people, he deserves to be prioritised for once.

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong, but we do need your help to bring Kimi home safely.”

 

Ollie nods against his hands, taking a sharp breath as he finally sits back from his position and looks up at Sergi. His eyes are bloodshot and dry, and it looks as if his body has wanted to cry but he’s outright denied it. 

 

“What do you need me to do?” 

 

“Something you’ve become an expert at,” Sergi assures him. “You need to get Esteban to kidnap you again.”

 

Ollie doesn’t ask a single follow up question. He doesn’t ask how that’s going to help Kimi, he doesn’t ask why that’s the plan Sergi’s come up with, he just pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts texting as quickly as he can. 

 

“Kimi’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” He asks quietly after a moment.

 

“I promise,” Sergi tells him softly, squeezing his shoulder as he gets to his feet. 

 

This is going immeasurably better than he expected it to, even if there’s still an awful lot more planning that needs to unfold. He thinks about his words as he starts to make his way back towards the door, needing to leave before Ollie decides to start asking questions and figuring things out that he really shouldn’t know. He’s got a flight to make, too. He really needs to speak to one more person before he calls Toto again, before the summer shutdown begins, or his plan is going to be delayed.

 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

 

Those parting words are a promise that Sergi has made before, but it’s a promise that he intends to keep this time. 

 

+ + +

 

Grisignano di Zocco, Italy
Friday 08 August 2025

 

By some miracle - and several tight train and plane connections - Sergi makes it to Grisignano di Zocco before Prema close their doors for the evening. It’s not that tracking Doriane down once summer break starts would be particularly difficult, but it’s much easier to talk to her when all he has to do is sign in as a visitor at reception and make his way to where he knows she’ll be: on the simulator. The building is familiar, all that’s changed since he and Kimi left at the end of last year is the paint on the walls and the photographs adorning the corridors. 

 

His eye is caught by several of them, not just because he happens to be in them. There’s Kimi celebrating his Formula 4 and FRECA Championships, smiling ear to ear with his trophies, with the team. It feels impossible that those memories were so recent. He’s come such a long way in such a short period of time. Being at his side, watching him grow from a young boy so feather light that Sergi would worry a strong gust of wind would carry him away, makes his heart ache. 

 

He wonders where he might be now. He hopes he’s safe. Whatever injury he had that caused him to leave behind so much blood when he fled, he hopes that the Hornet realises Kimi’s more useful when he’s alive and has tended to his wound carefully. He hopes he has a warm bed to sleep in, enough food to eat, shelter. Even if the Kimi at the forefront right now isn’t the Kimi he’s staring at, he’s still filled with concern for the boy. Because his Kimi is still in there somewhere, watching on helplessly. As soon as he’s back with them he’s going to hold him tightly, tell him that it’s okay, that they’re going to make it through this together.

 

There’s such a light in the eyes of the boy in the picture, a hope for the future. He can’t imagine Kimi ever pictured something like this to happen. 

 

Sergi straightens his posture, pushing his shoulders back and holding his head high, and continues through the building to track down Doriane.

 

Unsurprisingly, she’s deeply in focus in the simulator. So he doesn’t bother her at first, standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest as he watches her navigate the banked corners of Zandvoort with ease. She’s almost destined to win the F1 Academy championship this year, but she’s showing no interest in taking it easy because of her domination. It’s only when she crosses the line, after setting a new personal best, that Sergi steps forward. He clears his throat to get her attention, pulling a chair from a nearby desk so he can sit beside her for the conversation.

 

Doriane takes out her headphones and shifts, making herself comfortable in the seat as she acknowledges him.

 

“You told me to let you know if you can help with helping him,” Sergi says quietly.

 

Doriane nods, her hair falling in front of her face briefly. She pushes it back behind her ears and looks at Sergi with her full attention.

 

“I’m trying to get a team of people,” he explains. “Pedro’s on board already. Ollie and Esteban are going to play a part - they’re already involved, it made sense. And you know everything. It would be stupid to try and do something without you.”

 

Doriane hums.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to say something more along the lines of how you can’t do this without me?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “That I’m smart, and my quick wit is fundamental to helping Kimi? You know, more than just you’re my fourth choice.” 

 

“You’re not my fourth choice,” Sergi tells her simply. “We spoke in Spa, you already agreed to help. It’s not like I need to get on my knees and beg with you.”

 

“What? You won’t give me the satisfaction of it?” She asks.

 

There’s a moment where Sergi looks at her eyes and truly cannot tell if she means that seriously or not. When he shifts an inch in his chair, she bursts out laughing, and he finds himself somewhat relieved that no - she didn’t mean it.

 

“Of course I’m going to help,” she says, composing herself. “Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”

 

“Thank you,” Sergi says, still on the edge of his seat. “I’ll need your schedule. You’ll be in Zandvoort, but not Monza, right?” 

 

Doriane nods.

 

“I have FRECA in Austria that weekend,” she explains. “It’s close enough that maybe I can be there on Friday… But after that I’m not going to be in the paddock again until Singapore.”

 

Sergi swallows. If he wants Doriane’s help, that puts a time limit on things. Getting everything ready for Zandvoort is impossible - Toto has already told him as much - but maybe… Maybe the extra few days between races will be enough. Because he does need her help, and waiting until Singapore isn’t an option. 

 

“Then we’ll make sure we have Kimi back for Qualifying in Monza,” he decides. “I’ll be in touch. You’ll need to add some new workouts to your regime.” 

 

“I’m sure my trainer will appreciate that,” Doriane laughs.

 

“Well, your trainer might appreciate that I’m trying to keep you alive,” he explains. “Just some martial arts, enough to give you a better foundation for fighting. Better than punching and hoping for the best.”

 

“I’m going to be fighting?” 

 

If Sergi didn’t know her better, he’d think Doriane sounds excited at the prospect. But he does know her better, which is why he knows she’s far beyond excited.

 

“Hopefully we can keep it to a minimum,” he shrugs. “But it would be good if you can handle yourself if you need to.”

 

Doriane nods at that.

 

“I’ll find a class at home, see if they can teach me.”

 

Sergi gets to his feet, more than happy with how this conversation has gone. Doriane, in the meantime, picks her ear plugs back up from her lap. 

 

“I’ll see you in Zandvoort, Doriane,” Sergi says.

 

With that she’s absorbed in the simulator once again, and Sergi is calling Toto to let him know how much progress he’s made. Hopefully he’ll get some good news in return, and then he can start to plan just how everything is going to work in Monza. 

 

He’s got the pieces, now he just has to put them into some kind of order.

 

+ + +

 

Bologna, Italy
Monday 25 August 2025

 

Sergi doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing. 

 

He knows he needs to tell the Antonelli family something. He knows they can’t be left entirely in the dark. Maybe telling them everything about Kimi’s identity and powers is a step too far, but they have to know something. They were worried enough after Silverstone, he can only imagine the radio silence over the last few weeks has plagued them. Talking to them was something he had to do, and he thought that maybe today would be the right day to do it.

 

Symbolic. 

 

But standing outside the front door, he’s getting cold feet. He doesn’t know what’s going to await him on the other side of the door, though he’s fairly certain it won’t be Kimi. 

 

Instead of being at home, celebrating his nineteenth birthday with his family, he’s missing. He wonders, stupidly, if the Hornet might bother to get him a cake. It doesn’t really fit the evil villain vibe he’s got going, but maybe birthday’s are different to terrorism. Maybe he’ll get a new weapon as a gift. Sergi doesn’t particularly want to think about Kimi with weapons, but he doesn’t want to think about how scared and alone he is on his birthday either. 

 

Maybe he should just stop thinking.

 

As Sergi raises his hand to knock on the door, it swings open. There, in the doorway, the familiar face of Maggie Antonelli. She stares up at him for a long moment, her eyes unsure and untrusting, then exhales a sigh that seems far too heavy for a little girl. She scampers off back into the house without a word, leaving Sergi standing there until Marco is led to the door - Maggie practically dragging him forward.

 

Marco, understandably, doesn’t look best pleased.

 

He’s beckoned in by the older man and he follows in silence, through to the dining room that he’s somewhat familiar with. Veronica is there, her head low, a box of tissues in front of her, and as soon as she realises that company has joined them she makes a relatively quick escape through the kitchen to get away from the conversation that’s about to take place. It leaves the two men with a tense atmosphere, and Sergi waits for the silent direction to sit down opposite Marco before he pulls out the chair.

 

The way it squeaks against the floor is almost deafening, and he flinches at the sound of the seat creaking when he sits down.

 

Naturally, the room is adorned with photographs of the children. Kimi and his karting trophies - trophies that are sitting in his bedroom, just above his head -, Maggie and her many gymnastic accolades, and the two of them together as children. Photos from family holidays as proof that their children are more than just their achievements. There’s one of Kimi holding a newborn Maggie, still scrunched up and swaddled in the wrap from the hospital. Another shows the two of them sitting beneath a Christmas tree with excited faces, waiting for Father Christmas to pay them a visit.

 

Sergi feels suffocated with guilt.

 

He knows Marco. Over the years they’ve become as close as father and trainer can be. Oftentimes, Sergi takes on a role that Marco would’ve performed if Kimi weren’t travelling so often. Right now he doesn’t feel that closeness. He feels as if he’s staring at a stranger, or down the barrel of a gun. 

 

“You know something about my son,” Marco says matter of factly, and Sergi nods his head.

 

He licks his lips and shifts, cursing the sound of the chair beneath him.

 

“He’s alive,” he prefaces, though at this point he can’t say that with any degree of certainty. “The Hornet has taken an interest in your son.”

 

It’s blunt and straightforward. He said he’d learn from talking to Ollie, but Marco is a direct man and he knows he’ll appreciate the way the message is delivered. He can hear a gasp and a muffled sob from the kitchen, and he realises that Veronica is still listening. 

 

He can’t imagine the pain of a mother losing their child.

 

“I’m going to help him,” Sergi says determinedly. “I’m going to save him, Marco. I promise.”

 

“How am I supposed to trust that you’ll save him when you haven’t kept him safe so far?”

 

It’s something that Sergi has been thinking for weeks, but no one has voiced it. To hear it from someone else’s mouth, in the voice of Kimi’s father, is a blow that crushes him. Because it’s undoubtedly the truth - how can anyone trust him to be the one to save him? If he’d done his job properly, Kimi wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. If he’d run a bit faster during media day in Silverstone, if he’d gone after him straight away, could he have made a difference?

 

He’s replayed the situation in his head a thousand times over, but he’s not found one where he could’ve done anything. At best, he could’ve gotten himself killed and bought Kimi a few precious seconds to save himself, but what then? No one would’ve been able to help him in Spa, and the Hornet would’ve just delayed his plans by a few weeks. 

 

“I’m leading a team of people,” he says. “Mercedes are helping too. It’s not just me this time. We all want to bring Kimi back.”

 

“How?”

 

Sergi feels himself tense up. Over the last few weeks, he’s put a lot of thought into the how of it all. He doesn’t like the answers he’s finding.

 

“I need Maggie,” he whispers.

 

Marco looks like he’s been slapped across the face.

 

“No.”

 

“Mr Antonelli–”

“You’ve lost one of my children, you expect me to entrust another to you?!”

 

And he understands, of course. What kind of a father would Marco be if he just offered up Maggie without any thought to the consequences. The best case scenario, of course, is that Kimi snaps out of his brainwashing the moment he sees his sister in danger, and they both emerge from the situation unharmed. The worst… Marco loses both of his children. Getting Kimi back is undeniably important to the family, but not at the potential expense of Maggie.

 

Sergi is running out of time to think of a new plan, which means he has two options. He can wrack his brain desperately until a second idea jumps out at him, or he can go against Marco’s wishes. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

 

The room is quiet and the air is tense. Sorry doesn’t begin to cut it. He wants to get onto his knees - just like Doriane had joked - and beg for forgiveness, but there’s a time and a place for that, and neither of those are now. He can make his case once all is said and done, once Kimi is home and safe, once this nightmare is over.

 

“I want my son home, Sergi,” Marco tells him firmly. 

 

“I know,” Sergi nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And he will be. In Monza. Things won’t be ready this weekend, the team… We need more time. Just make sure your family is in Monza for him.”

 

“Alright,” Marco accepts, much to Sergi’s relief. “If you can’t bring him home, I will make you pay.”

 

+ + +

 

Zandvoort, The Netherlands
Friday 29 August 2025

 

After a summer break that’s felt both too long and too short, there’s a sense of relief in being back at the track. The sound of engines, the cheer of the crowd, the vibrations in Sergi’s ribs all help to ground him. It’s been too long since Hungary, since he last saw Kimi, since he last felt like he was doing the right thing. But it’s been far too short to feel like he’s done a good enough job in planning how to rescue him from the clutches of the Hornet. With a week until the deadline - unless he wants to wait for Singapore, or invent an entirely new plan on the fly - nothing feels ready. The Mercedes team is still working on providing the equipment that he needs, and it’s going to be touch and go on whether it’s ready or not. If it is ready, it’ll be even tighter as to whether or not it can be shipped to the track in time.

 

He’s standing at the back of the Mercedes garage, arms folded over his chest, watching as the F1 Academy Qualifying session comes to a close on a screen before him. It’s been a wet session, but it’s going to be a washout all weekend if the forecast is anything to go by. A storm is coming in overnight. The worst of it is expected further north, but that doesn’t mean the track is going to avoid the wind and the rain blowing in from the North Sea. Actually, given there’s only a few dunes between them and the sea, they’re currently bearing the brunt of it.

 

It’s a miracle that the session ever got underway, and the odds of another Practice session for the Formula 1 drivers taking place in the afternoon look remarkably low. The weather is just going to get worse and worse, the clouds darker and thicker, and the wind gusts higher. 

 

If that’s one silver lining to take out of this whole situation, it’s that Kimi isn’t in a Formula 1 car right now.

 

Sergi steps out of the garage as the cars start to pull back into pit lane, and he claps as he joins the sea of team members going to cheer on their drivers. Doriane, in her usual form, has put two blistering laps on the board to take a Pole position and a P2 - beaten only in the second run by Alba Larsen, who’s taking her maiden Pole. Sergi keeps himself towards the back of the Prema mechanics clapping for Doriane, who’s pulled aside as a gust of wind makes her and the other drivers stumble.

 

The weather is treacherous, there’s no way Formula 1 will be able to conduct their Practice session in conditions like this. Maybe they’ll get an extra thirty minutes tomorrow to compensate, when the sun is expected to be shining and all the water that’s been dumped on the track will evaporate away in the post-storm heat.

 

For now, Sergi doesn’t think about it. He just keeps his eyes on Doriane, watching as she ends up deep in conversation with Abbi Pulling - who always seems to be at the track even if she’s not racing. She’s just had a great weekend in Brands Hatch, and Doriane seems to be as concerned with congratulating her as Abbi is on commending her for her Pole. Sometimes, Sergi thinks he’s seen this dynamic before. 

 

As she makes it through her duties with the FIA and with the media, Sergi follows her back into hospitality. Having worked with Prema so closely over the last few years, no one bats an eyelid at his presence. No one cares at all when he approaches her. No one says anything when he nods her head and leads her away before the team can debrief her. There’ll be time for that later - this is far more important than anything that will happen at the back of a feeder series truck.

 

They brace the weather through the short walk between the feeder paddock and the Formula 1 paddock, and Sergi escorts Doriane into the back of the Mercedes garage. As expected, the session has been postponed indefinitely, and the fact that the sky looks like some kind of deity is furious with the people of the Netherlands is enough for Sergi to be confident that it won’t get underway any time soon. A quick text is sent, and Sergi can see the moment it arrives. Toto’s hand moves seamlessly to his pocket, he glances subtly down at his phone, and he says something to Bradley before he excuses himself from the pitwall and walks towards the pair of them.

 

Now a trio, they make their way through the facilities to a quiet room. Not quite as small as that from Miami, but still cramped enough that it’s a struggle for the three of them to have their own personal space. 

 

When the door is finally shut behind them, and no one can hear what they have to say, the conversation can finally start. 

 

“Everything is going according to plan,” Toto confirms, and Sergi’s never heard sweeter words. “Initial tests with the antidote are promising.”

 

It’s the best thing that’s ever left his mouth, as far as Sergi is concerned. The antidote is working, that’s the most important thing, because if the antidote works then they can get Kimi back. All he has to do is get close enough to get him to ingest it. Which, admittedly, is easier said than done in his current frame of mind.

 

“The suits are being constructed,” Toto continues, taking the lack of verbal response as an invitation to continue.

 

Toto nods his head to one side and he spots what he’s being instructed to look at easily. There are two suits hanging on the rails. One is Kimi’s old suit, but the other… The other is something entirely new. Not quite as detailed, for understandable reasons, but just as protective as Kimi’s is. It’s mostly black, a few silver highlights, none of the teal. And, Sergi notices, it’s perfectly his size. 

 

When he reaches for it, he can see there’s been some substantial changes to Kimi’s old suit. Firstly, that it looks smaller than before. Second, that there’s a zip to make it easier to get in and out of. And third…

 

“It has pockets!” Doriane gasps, grinning from ear to ear as she joins Sergi at his side and pulls the adjusted suit from the rack.

 

Sergi’s always heard the rumours that the way to a woman’s heart is pockets, but he’s never seen it in practice. He always thought that Doriane’s heart was reserved for race cars, meal plan breaking sugar overloads, and fast drivers. But no, it’s pockets. Obviously.

 

Doriane has found space in the corner to change out of her race suit, her back to the two of them as she pulls on the old Silver Spider costume, whilst Toto continues to talk to the room.

 

“We haven’t finished all of the equipment you’ve requested just yet, Sergi,” he explains. “But there’s shields in the making, to make sure that no one else gets hurt whilst we try and get Kimi back. The team has been looking at the videos, trying to analyse the data, and figure out a way to combat the Hornet. They’ve replicated the crossbows that are being used.”

 

Shields and crossbows… It’s a start. He knows what Kimi would say at this point - he’d ask for a gun again - but this is just a starting point. The goal isn’t to take down the villains right now, it’s to bring Kimi home safely. He’s sure more equipment is being developed in the background, and the process of saving Kimi has just expedited a few things. Suddenly being asked to produce several new suits, shields and crossbows on short notice has probably only delayed their work with more substantial upgrades, not to mention the antidote. They’re lucky to be getting this much.

 

“Oh my God, it’s perfect,” Doriane spins on her heels, her hands running over the suit as she shimmies around in it.

 

Sergi takes his suit off the hanger, he should probably try that on too.

 

“Don’t forget the boots and the mask,” Toto reminds them both. “And, since Kimi actually has powers and neither of you do… Something else.”

 

Something else is news to Sergi, because there wasn’t anything else on his list that he asked for. At least, nothing else that Toto had green lit. Several of his ideas had been shot down there and then as scientific impossibilities, or implausible given the time constraints they were working within.

 

Toto reaches for an ordinary box, sitting on a shelf, that doesn’t look in the slightest out of place. It’s an old shoe box, actually, repurposed to attract as little attention as possible so no one thinks to look inside. It’s done exactly what it needed to do, because it isn’t until Toto takes the lid off to reveal its contents that he realises just how important it is.

 

“Here,” he explains, holding out thick metal bracelets. “For your wrists. They make web.”

 

They’re chunkier than the tech that Kimi has, but then Kimi’s equipment was only ever to reinforce the web that he made naturally, not to make the web from scratch. Sergi undoes the buttons and zip of his trousers, stepping out of them and into his suit. It’s a tighter fit than he was expecting - clearly he’s put on more weight during summer than he expected he would - but it still slides up over his body and settles over his hips before he has to remove his shirt.

 

“Oh, wow,” Doriane says, stepping forward to take two of the bracelets from Toto and sliding them immediately onto her wrists.

 

“How do they work?” Sergi asks, struggling to get the suit up over his torso as he puts his arms in the sleeves.

 

“There’s a scanner on the inside of your wrist,” Toto explains. “It can register which muscles are moving.”

 

“So we can do the finger thing?” Doriane asks.

 

Along with her question, she does the finger thing, and by mirroring a pose seen in every Spiderman movie to date, web shoots out of the device and hits the wall. She laughs heartily, tugging at it experimentally to see just how strong it is.

 

Really strong, is the answer. 

 

“Relax your fingers to cut it,” Toto tells her.

 

She does, and the web falls onto the floor, still attached to the wall.

 

Sergi takes a deep breath, finally squeezing himself into his suit, and he takes the other two bracelets from Toto. He experiments in a similar fashion to Doriane, flexing his fingers to get a basic understanding of how to use the tools that have been given to him. It’s a welcome surprise. Sure, maybe wings like the Hornet would’ve been better - and he’s seen prototypes in the lab - but if they’re still just prototypes he supposes this will have to do. Better than faulty wings that send him plunging towards Italian tarmac, that doesn’t sound particularly conducive to saving Kimi.

 

“And, of course, there’s one more thing,” Toto says, unable to hide the smile that’s on his face.

 

He takes something else out of the box and sets it atop the crates beside him, eight reinforced legs shooting out of a much denser metal hull. Rather than cameras for eyes, a screen lights up displaying an expression - a smile - and a sweet voice plays out over small speakers in the body of the robot.

 

“Greetings, friend Sergi!” 

 

The little spider’s voice is enthusiastic, and the smile on his digital interface grows to what can only be described as ecstatic. 

 

“Pedro?” Sergi gasps, taking a step forward and crouching down to be at eye level with the droid.

 

“His shell was broken, but his systems still functioned and his memory banks were unharmed. He’s had an upgrade of his own, but he’s still the same old Pedro.”

 

“Pedro is ready to assist in rescuing the Silver Spider!”

 

Sergi’s expression mirrors that of the robot, and he reaches out with one finger to scratch the top of his head. Pedro closes his eyes, he really does look happy about this. 

 

“Who’s Pedro?” Doriane asks curiously, stifling a laugh. “I thought he was my engineer?”

 

“He’s a robot,” Toto offers. “An upgrade for Kimi after Spain. He named him Pedro, after the engineer.” 

 

“That’s adorable,” she replies. “I’m never going to let him live that down.”

 

Sergi’s expression dulls a little with that - a reminder that they still have to save Kimi to let him be in a position not to live it down. But he focuses on Pedro, and his slightly bigger body, and the new features that he appears to have been granted. Much like them, he too now has the ability to produce webs, and he demonstrates this by shooting some from the rear of his body and propelling himself forwards to land on Sergi’s shoulder.

 

It really is nice to have a familiar face back, but there’s still a task at hand. 

 

“Pedro,” Sergi starts. “Do you remember what happened in Hungary?”

 

It’s not a nice question - the fact that it makes Pedro’s face fall more than tells him that - but it’s an important one. Pedro was with Kimi for several minutes after them, he might have information on where he went, or what happened to cover the room in so much blood. Maybe the Hornet came back, maybe Kimi was still resisting in those final moments…

 

“The Silver Spider was injured terribly,” he says, and Sergi’s heart aches. “The Hornet and the Wasp have manipulated him. He hurt Pedro, but Pedro was only trying to help.”

 

“I’m sorry he hurt you,” Sergi whispers, scratching his head once more, but he’s preoccupied with the fact that they’ve just been given a name.

 

The Wasp. 

 

“How was Kimi injured?” Toto asks, straight to the point. 

 

“Pedro’s calculations may be incorrect,” Pedro acknowledges. “But this is highly unlikely, even with the damage Pedro sustained. Pedro observed that the Silver Spider appeared to have three less phalanges than typical human males.”

 

Toto and Doriane both share a look of confusion, but Sergi’s heart plummets into his stomach.

 

“He’s… Missing a finger?”

 

And in an instant, confusion is replaced with fear.

 

“What?” Toto demands.

 

“Prior to the Silver Spider’s defenestration of Pedro, Pedro witnessed the Silver Spider bite off his finger and attempt to sew the wound shut. The Silver Spider appeared to have performed an adequate job, although no care was taken regarding preventive measures against infection.”

 

The room is silent as the three try to absorb that information. Kimi’s lost a finger. He’s a racing driver, and he’s down a finger. Sergi almost wonders if it would be heartless and cruel to ask which finger, because that’s the sort of thing that would go a long way to determining a recovery time. If it’s his thumb or an index finger he’ll be in a lot more trouble than if it’s his ring finger or his pinky.

 

But he doesn’t ask that, because right now the thought of Kimi sitting in a Formula 1 car is a distant dream. Right now, the job is to keep him safe and bring him home. Even if it’s impossible to do it in one piece anymore, they can keep him from being in any more pieces.

 

The bar just gets lower with every passing day.

 

A rumble of thunder signifies that the storm is closer than ever, and also puts the final nail in the coffin of a postponed Practice session. If there’s thunderstorms in the area, then safety protocols will come into play and there’ll be no chance of any running taking place. At least it means there’s a relaxing evening ahead of them, and Sergi can go back to planning how Monza needs to go with the knowledge that he’ll have everything he needs by next Friday.

 

Except as he’s preparing to take his suit off, Pedro starts quivering on his shoulder.

 

“The Silver Spider is in danger!”

 

All eyes are on the droid, eager for more information. Toto’s taken his phone out, and Sergi assumes he’s taking the initiative to look at social media to see if any sightings have been reported. No one’s seen Kimi, as himself or the Silver Spider, since Hungary, and the same can be said for the Hornet and the Wasp. Their disappearance has been almost more terrifying than their presence, but now they’re back.

 

“North,” Toto says quickly. “A town. Den Oever.”

 

“The Silver Spider requires assistance!” 

 

“Doriane, did you sign up to that martial arts class?” Sergi asks her, cocking a brow as he looks back to where their suits were, grabbing the masks and boots alongside them. “We have to go.”

 

“Now?!” She asks, catching her mask and slipping it over her head as Sergi throws it to her. 

 

“Time to learn on the job,” he says. “If it helps, I’ve never been a superhero either.”

 

“No! It doesn’t help!” She remarks.

 

At least they’re equally stressed out. Sergi’s heart is pounding as he clumsily steps into his boots, and he wonders if this is how Kimi felt in Jeddah. Lost, light headed, with nothing to go on but a gut feeling and the instinctive desire to do good. For someone that’s spent countless nights telling Kimi he needs to be more careful about who sees him, Sergi takes relatively little care when leaving the room. He just grabs Doriane by the hand as soon as she’s ready and tugs her in the same direction as him, running through hospitality without a care in the world. 

 

They aren’t spotted until they’re outside of the Mercedes area, which is at least something good. As the wind whips through the paddock, blowing over umbrellas and covering everything in a thin layer of sand, they run quickly through the crowds trying to leave and seek shelter to try and find a way to travel north.

 

Unsurprisingly, there aren’t many people that seem to be heading north. The road outside of the track is filled with people trying to get inland and south, away from the worst of the storm, but that’s not what they need. Sergi comes to a halt as he waits for Doriane to catch up - and he makes a mental note to run slower so they don’t get separated - and he takes that time to come up with a plan.

 

Doriane, however, beats him to that.

 

“Come on!” She shouts.

 

It makes Sergi’s ears ring, and as he winces he replies - much more softly.

 

“I think there’s a microphone in your suit,” he tells her. “I can hear you loud and clear.”

 

“Well maybe yelling makes things feel more in my control!” Doriane yells. “We can take one of the Mercedes cars.”

 

Sergi should probably argue with her on that point, but Doriane is already sprinting back to the paddock car park. At least a rental car used by the team to arrive at the circuit is less likely to turn heads and bring this back to the team. He will admit, he’s concerned by Doriane’s lack of restraint when it comes to using her elbow to smash a window open and unlock the car from the inside, but right now he doesn’t have the time to think about morality. All that matters is that Kimi is north, straight in the path of the storm, and almost certainly with the Hornet and the Wasp.

 

As Sergi gets into the car - the passenger seat, of course - Pedro jumps down from his shoulder and towards the ignition. Doriane’s been attempting to hot wire the vehicle (something else that would ordinarily raise a few more questions), but Pedro’s assistance means that isn’t necessary anymore. He finagles his legs into the keyhole and manages to start the ignition. 

 

“Oh, you’re a brilliant little robot,” Doriane declares cheerfully, reversing the car out of its parking space and taking them slowly out of the paddock.

 

“Seatbelt,” Sergi reminds her, leaning over the central console to grab the buckle and bring it across her body.

 

It takes some time to make it out of the circuit traffic, but everyone else is heading south. Once they’re on the roads, they join the very few cars in driving north on the A9 - and then the A7 - and Sergi pays no attention to the fact that Doriane is paying no regard at all to the speed limit. In any other situation, he’d have taken control, but right now this is exactly what they need. A racing driver at the wheel, traversing ever worsening conditions, carrying them as quickly as the car will allow towards Kimi.

 

By the time they make it to Den Oever - and just past, to the start of Afsluitdijk -, the windscreen wipers are working overtime. The headlights do little to pierce the pervasive darkness that’s fallen over the flat countryside. Trees are swaying in the wind, almost bending entirely in half from the force of the storm. The road is entirely deserted, and very much closed to traffic, and eventually even all the determination of Doriane Pin isn’t enough to overcome the storm. She pulls the car over to the side of the road and they’re left with no choice to get out and make the rest of the journey on foot. The wind feels apocalyptic, strong enough that Sergi has to apply some force to even be able to open his door, let alone climb out. As soon as he lets go it slams shut behind him, with enough strength that it probably would’ve taken his arm off if it was in the way.

 

The Hornet and his Swarm stand out against the horizon, bright yellow in a world of swirling greys. Sergi and Doriane run forward, further out onto the manmade causeway, and as they become increasingly more exposed to the elements it becomes increasingly difficult to stand against the wind buffeting them. Even with microphones and speakers in their helmets, it’s only natural to feel as though they need to yell to communicate with each other. And it does help, especially when a gust of wind is strong enough that it whistles louder than anything they could hope to hear.

 

“Do you see Kimi?!” Doriane shouts.

 

“No!” Sergi calls back. 

 

He’d shake his head, but he knows it wouldn’t be seen. He can barely see his hand in front of his face, even with the improved vision his suit offers him. In the moments where the wind drops - though it never quite disappears - the rain becomes less of a sheet and Sergi can see a few things happening around him. He can see the wind in the grass, the way that it ripples back and forth with each gust. He can see waves, ten feet high crashing against the cement and basalt defenses of the dam. Construction equipment has been left behind from the ongoing repairs, and whilst the cranes have been deconstructed to keep from falling over there’s still plenty of signs and heavy machinery that are being tossed about like feathers by the storm. Wind turbines moan and groan, and corrugated iron whines as the wind howls through.

 

The world around them changes slowly as they push on, trying to creep ever closer to where the Hornet floats above the road. If he’s there, then there’s a good chance the Wasp and Kimi are beneath him, they just have to make it there first.

 

They make it to a small island - one that Sergi can’t tell whether it’s real or artificial - and that provides some shelter from the worst of the wind. The grassy slope is enough for them to break into a proper run and make their way further down the tarmac, and even as they leave the island behind there’s still enough shelter for them to run without the same kind of interference as before. Within a few minutes - but far slower than they’d dare admit on their Strava’s - they’re a little over half a kilometre from shore. 

 

And they’re no longer alone.

 

When Sergi and Doriane come to a halt, the sound of rain hitting the tarmac is almost the only thing they can hear: thunder is drowned out by waves hitting the sea defenses to their left. In front of them, an over lane sign has collapsed and the wires are sparking. It’s impossible to tell if the damage was caused by the storm or the Hornet - hovering above the Afsluitdijk, his wings beating impossibly fast to keep him from being forced back by the wind. The Swarm are having little luck, being blown around more than usual. In front of them, on the other side of the sparking wires, is the Wasp and Kimi. All three are so focused on the task at hand that they haven’t spotted their arrival, though the cloak of rain helped to keep them hidden as they ran towards them.

 

“Kimi!” Doriane shouts, and Sergi curses.

 

Doriane is running again, intent on clambering over the sparking sign. Sergi runs after her, because he has no other option, and he wishes that he could’ve had a partner who thought more before they acted.

 

No. He doesn’t mean that. If that was the case, they’d still be in Zandvoort. He’s too cautious, and Doriane is too reckless. If they’re lucky, they’ll balance each other out and meet somewhere in the middle - somewhere that makes saving Kimi possible.

 

As she’s pulling herself over the sign, they’re finally noticed. The Hornet turns his head to look at them first, and then the Wasp and Kimi follow suit. Sergi manages to grab her by the scruff of her suit and pull her back down, pulling her back away from the metal debris. Above them, lightning strikes, and one of the ‘bees’ in the Swarm explodes.

 

There’s a brief panic between the three men, which gives Sergi cause for concern. But when nothing else happens, their focus is redirected on them once more. Sergi actually liked it when they were panicking about the explosion.

 

The Hornet is descending, the Wasp is clambering over a metal railing, and Kimi is left to continue the work of the trio. 

 

“Doriane, run,” Sergi tells her. “We need to split them up.” 

 

Doriane doesn’t question him as she turns and runs away, the Hornet hot on her tail as Sergi finds the Wasp rapidly approaching him. Kimi makes this superhero thing look easy, but he’s realising now just how difficult it actually is. Unlike Kimi, he has no instincts to tell him what’s happening, he doesn’t have a tingle that helps guide him. All he can do is respond to whatever the Wasp does, but by the time that happens he’s worried it might be too late.

 

The Wasp pulls his crossbow from his side and shoots quickly - something that Sergi is altogether unprepared for - but he’s lucky. The wind of the storm is so strong that even from short range, the arrow is plucked out of the sky and flung into the IJsselmeer.. It comes as a relief that ranged combat seems to be entirely out of the equation for now. The sky flashes with lightning, and the Wasp is running towards him with unwavering determination.

 

Sergi ducks as the first punch is thrown and he grabs his leg to pull him down. He has to fight dirty if he wants to stand a chance of getting out of this alive - something that Doriane seems to be doing an awful lot better than him. He focuses on his own fight, on the Wasp who’s landed on his back on the tarmac, and who’s already pushing himself back up and throwing a punch squarely at Sergi’s jaw.

 

Getting punched hurts. 

 

His body aches and his head spins, but he forces himself to his feet and tries in vain to steady himself in the wind. Maybe it’s better to work with it rather than against it, and he tries his best to position himself with his back to the gusts. It means, when the Wasp hits him again, he doesn’t stumble back even as his stomach hurts. And it means, when he punches, the extra velocity the wind provides helps him to connect his fist with the tubes around his neck. 

 

Punching hurts too. 

 

Sergi’s knuckles crack from the impact and his fingers sting. Fighting is dreadfully overrated. How Kimi manages to cope with this, week after week, he doesn’t understand. The Wasp is well defended and Sergi isn’t armed with anything remotely useful to fight back, but he needs to do… To do something! 

 

By now, Kimi would know what the Hornet and the Wasp were doing. He’d have a plan on how to deal with them. He’d have no trouble whatsoever in executing that plan. He’d be saving lives, and then he’d go back to his hotel, clean up, and get ready to race in the morning.

 

He ducks underneath a punch as he thinks, desperately, of how to change this situation. He’s not sure he’s going to be able to figure out what the plan is to stop it, so what he really needs to do is find a way to change this hopeless fight against the Wasp. Either he stands here and takes punches until his body is worn down to exhaustion, or he does something different.

 

“Sergi, come back,” Doriane calls.

 

Spinning on his heels and looking in the direction they’d come from, Sergi can just about see Doriane retreating into the rain. Running away from Kimi feels like the wrong thing to do, but he doesn’t have a plan right now and - seemingly, at least - she does. So he runs, just narrowly missing another punch that’s been thrown, and he does his best not to slip and fall in the puddles around his feet. 

 

Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes as Doriane once again comes into view, a sure sign that she’s stopped moving and that he’s catching up to her. The Hornet is there too, the easiest of them all to see thanks to his bright yellow suit, and he’s quickly bearing down on Doriane whilst she seems distracted. Sergi tries to run faster, tries to get to him before he can get to her, but it’s a useless endeavor. The Hornet just has too much of a head start, and in the time it takes between lightning strikes (something that’s becoming ever shorter), the Hornet is on her.

 

And then, just like that, he’s off her.

 

“Ugh! Rargh! Bâtard!” 

 

Each word is accompanied by a smack to his armour with a wrench. Doriane’s plan is the exact answer he needed - a way to swing the fight in their favour - and Sergi laughs weakly in his mask as he keeps running towards her. He could do with a tool of his own, maybe he could crack open the Wasp’s helmet and see exactly who’s under that suit, figure out who he’s really up against. Or maybe…

 

Clearly, Doriane’s method of recklessness is working. Why not try it himself? 

 

Sergi jumps the low barrier and runs through muddy puddles, sprinting until he’s made it past Doriane and the Hornet (she seems to need absolutely no assistance from him when it comes to winning this fight). His eyes scan what’s been left by the construction crews, and he finds himself throwing caution to the wind when he spots the digger. He makes his way over to it quickly, putting his feet on the caterpillar tracks and pushing himself up into the cockpit.

 

He’s done a lot of things in his life, but driving a digger is not one of them. He looks around, taking everything in with his eyes and hands, running his fingers over the controls in front of him to get a feeling for how it all works. And, to try and find where the keys for the ignition are. He wishes they’d brought Pedro, but he’s still in the car. Warm, dry, safe… Lucky Pedro.

 

He finds the keys quicker than he thought he might, jamming them swiftly into the digger and twisting to bring the engine to life with a roar. 

 

The sound of a cry in his mask makes him look back up and focus on the world beyond the digger. He watches as the scene plays out in front of him. Doriane, busy bashing the Hornet’s helmet with the wrench, is grabbed from behind by the Wasp. She’s pulled away from the Hornet and thrown on the ground, and now the Hornet is the one holding a blunt object. Doriane does what she can to escape, but there’s a limit to how much she can maneuver when there're two far more experienced, far better armoured villains standing over her. The Wasp places a heavy boot on her chest to stop her from getting away, and the Hornet winds his arm back for a substantial hit.

 

Sergi looks back at the controls in front of him and starts to flick switches. The machinery beneath him grunts and groans, judders and jolts. It starts, it stops, but he’s quickly piecing together the basics. When he gets it moving there’s an alarm that he ignores, but he doesn’t particularly care what the issue is. He’s found how to make the digger go forwards and backwards, and he’s able to maneuver the boom and the bucket, what else does he need to know?!

 

As thunder rolls over the Afsluitdijk, Sergi watches the Hornet stumble again. Doriane might be pinned down, but she’s not giving up, kicking with all of her might to get him away from her. Sergi’s only got a few moments to act before he finds his composure and Doriane is outnumbered once more, so he lowers the arm of the digger sooner than he would’ve liked. 

 

The bucket comes down on the Hornet’s legs and forces him to fall forward, buckling at the knee, and Doriane takes advantage of the moment to wriggle further back and get to her feet. The Wasp might still be focused on her, but a one-on-one fight is something she’s much more capable of taking.

 

Except there’s hands on Sergi’s arm, tugging at him roughly, and combined with the wind the digger begins to move back and forth. Because the Wasp isn’t focused on Doriane anymore, the Wasp is focused on him. The man is trying to pull Sergi from the cockpit and he braces himself, anchoring his feet as best as he can to try and make himself an immoveable object. The handbrake is still on - which explains why there was an alarm when he drove the digger - so he twists his body in the seat and tries to bring the fight to the Wasp himself. The scuffle is messy and uncoordinated, with Sergi pushing desperately at his head and chest and the Wasp swiping his clawed hands at his mask. 

 

A strong gust of wind is enough to rock the digger entirely, tipping Sergi to the side and almost forcing him out, but he resists with every ounce of strength in him. It’s a better core workout than he’s ever had before - maybe this should become his new morning routine!

 

The next roll of thunder doesn’t sound like thunder at all, and the flash that accompanies it isn’t the bright white that he’s anticipating. Instead it’s orange, and it smells of smoke and burning. Which is to say that the next roll of thunder isn’t thunder at all, but the sound of the Swarm descending and exploding. Combined with the force of the storm, it only serves to rock the digger more violently. What felt like a safe place just moments ago now has Sergi feeling as if he’s completely cornered: he can’t exactly get out and run. 

 

But then the Wasp falls forwards, knocking the front of his helmet on the edge of the seat and sagging down further, and behind him stands a proud looking Doriane Pin - spinning the wrench in her fingers before slipping it into a pocket. 

 

“We can still get to Kimi!” She shouts over the sound of the storm.

 

And Kimi might not be their mission right now - bringing him back in this state would be dangerous without an antidote to combat the serum in his mind - but Sergi doesn’t need telling twice. He exits the cockpit, making half an attempt to jump over the Wasp but not really caring when he stomps on his fingers, and follows Doriane as she runs up the grassy slope on the north side of the road. 

 

It’s slippery underfoot, the grass turning to mud with every step they take, which makes it even harder to ascend. With the wind it becomes two steps forward, three steps back, but Doriane crouches down to get lower to the ground and Sergi follows suit. He uses his hands as well as his feet, clinging to blades of grass like it might make the difference when it comes to making it up the slope. Doriane still summits before him, offering her hand to help Sergi take the final few steps.

 

The difference between the shelter offered by the slope and becoming suddenly exposed is most obvious in just how difficult it becomes to stand. Both he and Doriane are forced sideways by the wind, and Doriane’s laughter rings out in his ears as they push on together. Every time a gust almost sweeps her off her feet, or she almost falls in a patch of mud, she only seems to laugh harder.

 

“I’m beginning to think you’re enjoying this!” Sergi accuses.

 

“It’s more fun than getting hit with a wrench,” she tells him brightly.

 

The wind and the rain don’t lessen in intensity, but it becomes easier to continue moving forward as they get used to the sheer magnitude of the storm. Their progress is even slower than before, but the little dot on the horizon that is Kimi gradually becomes larger and larger. He’s still working away intently, paying them no attention as they approach. Even as Doriane waves her arms erratically and calls his name, he doesn’t look up from his work. Unlike Doriane, Sergi is much more focused on what he’s trying to do, desperate to figure it out before something happens. Whatever it is, he gets the feeling that it won’t be good at all.

 

When they’re close enough that Kimi is distracted from his work, he steps back. With a mask on it should be difficult to see what he’s thinking, but Sergi has always been able to read him. He looks at how his body moves, how his muscles tense, and comes to one obvious conclusion: Kimi is afraid.

 

He’s afraid of them. 

 

“Doriane,” he says softly, reaching out with a hand to touch her shoulder.

 

“No, we can get to him,” she insists. 

 

“Doriane, we can’t,” he shakes his head.

 

“We can! We have to! He’s right there!” She says.

 

And this is where her determined nature becomes an issue. Because whilst it saved them before, now it’s doing the complete opposite. They don’t have an antidote yet, and without it Kimi is a threat. He’ll fight back, he’ll hurt them, he’ll hurt other people. As much as it pains Sergi, they have to leave him behind today. He tries to hold her back, but she shrugs his hand away and runs further forward.

 

The world beneath his feet shakes, and Doriane - who was so far in front of him - is suddenly crashing into his chest and sending them both falling onto the ground. For a moment, Sergi is entirely discombobulated, and it’s only as he feels thick mud raining down on him that he’s able to realise what’s happening: the Afsluitdijk has exploded. Bombs lining the width of the dam, from the grassy slope to the basalt and concrete defenses to the tarmac road, have been detonated. Debris is raining down, fragments of stone splashing into the water and mud and grass covering the ground. Salt water is quick to fill the gap that’s been created, and the force of the water churning against the saturated, unsupported ground starts a chain reaction.

 

Sergi springs to his feet, dragging Doriane with him as he backs away from the edge. More and more land is being eroded away with every passing second, hundreds and thousands of tonnes of water suddenly released. Decades of work protecting the low-lying land of the Netherlands are undone in the blink of an eye, and the sound of the storm is entirely masked by the cacophony of water. Even without the storm surge, the sea level is higher than the lake level, but with the height of the waves the water becomes a wall. 

 

The microphones are no longer enough to hear each other. Sergi is trying his best to talk to Doriane, but he can’t hear himself, let alone any reply she might be giving him. 

 

On the opposite side of the quickly widening gap, Kimi is standing his ground, admiring his handiwork. The mud beneath him is slipping away exponentially fast, and Sergi can feel Doriane slipping out of his hold. Even if he can’t hear her, the fact that her arm is outstretched is more than enough to tell him what she’s shouting, what she’s doing. He has no choice but to keep pulling her back, to focus on keeping themselves safe. So to him, Kimi disappears in the blink of an eye.

 

One moment he’s there, the next the ground beneath him has disappeared and he’s gone.

 

Doriane lurches forwards and Sergi wraps his arm around her stomach more firmly. He can’t explain to her that the suit is designed so that he’ll be able to breathe underwater, he can’t communicate anything to her right now, all he can do is tug firmly against her desperation and try to keep them out of the water. He’s fairly certain he can see Kimi’s head pop up further downstream for a moment, arms and legs thrashing helplessly. It’s a worst case scenario, really. The water is thick with silt and soil from the banks that are breaking away, the flood is only spiralling more and more out of control, and the storm surge is just the cherry on top. 

 

Whilst Doriane keeps pushing at Sergi’s arms, he looks up at the sky. Silhouetted against the flashing lightning, the Hornet and the Wasp fly overhead, the Swarm in tow, following Kimi as he’s dragged further and further away from them into the IJsselmeer. For Sergi, it’s a good sign that Kimi isn’t going to be alone. Even if he’d rather he wasn’t with the Hornet or the Wasp, they’re following him, they’ll pull him out of the water when they can, and next week in Monza he can count on him showing up. The antidote will be ready, they’ll be in a situation where it can be used and Kimi can come home. For now, it’s the best he can hope for.

 

He descends back down the slope with Doriane still protesting violently in his arms, herding her back towards dry land. The sudden loss of the howling wind whistling and whipping around them makes the world feel still and quiet, unnaturally so. The water keeps crashing behind them, keeps chipping away at more and more of the dam, and Sergi forces himself to focus on their survival. When Doriane’s protests become weaker and she resigns herself to being unable to save Kimi, it becomes easier still to journey on. The pair move in silence back to where they’d abandoned the car, wet and cold and covered in a thick layer of mud. 

 

Doriane pulls herself away from Sergi, still walking alongside him but no longer in his arms, and wraps her own arms around herself.

 

Sergi’s seen it before, in Kimi when he feels as though he hasn’t done a good enough job as a hero. It’s different now. Normally he’s patching Kimi up, tending to his wounds and reassuring him that he did everything he needed to do, but this time he’s there, in the thick of it. Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins and he’s shivering in the storm as he thinks back over the decisions he made.

 

Should he have left Kimi behind? Logically, it was the right thing to do. Trying to bring him back with them would’ve been impossible. He would’ve fought back, the Hornet and the Wasp would’ve followed them and stopped at nothing to be reunited with him, it would’ve put them all in danger… But has he been selfish by choosing the rest of them over Kimi? What would Kimi have done? 

 

He wants to reach out for Doriane, wrap an arm around her shoulders and reassure her that it’s okay, but he doesn’t know if that’s true. It doesn’t feel true. 

 

When they make it to the car, Sergi steps in front of Doriane and takes the driver seat. There’s absolutely no argument from her when that happens. She moves right around to the passenger seat and, as Sergi opens the door to climb inside, he’s hit with a wave of heat. Pedro, it seems, has made himself rather comfortable whilst they’ve been gone.

 

“Greetings, friend Sergi!” The little robot chimes, breaking the awkward silence as he pulls the car away and starts to drive. 

 

“Is the Silver Spider safe?” Pedro asks when he gets no reply.

 

“No, Pedro, he’s not,” Doriane says bitterly, pulling off her mask and leaning against the passenger window.

 

Sergi glances at her, managing to get the car onto the right side of the road and starting the long journey back to Zandvoort. They somehow need to get into the paddock, return the car, find their clothes, change and make it back to their hotels without anyone connecting the dots. How Kimi does this, he hasn’t the foggiest of ideas.

 

“He’s with the Hornet and the Wasp,” Sergi explains with a sigh, taking off his own mask - the warmth of the car is greatly appreciated against his skin. “We’ll bring him home next week, when the antidote is ready.”

 

He keeps repeating that over and over again, because if he doesn’t then the guilt of watching him float away will never leave him. 

 

“When they’ll be expecting us,” Doriane snaps. “The element of surprise is gone, eh? They’ll be ready for us.”

 

“But they won’t know about the antidote,” he assures. “And they won’t be expecting us to have more help. I know it feels bad right now, Doriane, but it was the right thing to do.”

 

“I’m not sure I agree with you,” she tells him flatly.

 

Sergi doesn’t argue with her, because he’s still not sure he agrees with himself either. So the rest of the drive to Zandvoort is quiet, the atmosphere in the car tense and uncomfortable as they slowly dry out and their heartbeats return to normal. The further south they go, the lighter the clouds become and the gentler the rain is. Even the wind seems to die down by the time they’re back in the paddock, masks over their heads once again as they sneak back in the way they left. The place is, thankfully, deserted. Everyone has already retreated to take cover from the storm. No one is there to see them make their way back into the Mercedes area, and no one is there to watch them leave as they change back into their regular clothes. He wants to check her for injury, but Doriane is keeping herself to herself, and Sergi gets the message that she’d rather have space. 

 

They’re still silent as Sergi drives his own car - not the stolen Mercedes - to take her back to her hotel. He doesn’t try to make conversation as they make their way through the rainswept town. She’s busy on her phone: it’s difficult to tell if she’s on social media, the news, or texting. When they arrive outside her hotel, he decides it was almost certainly the latter. She leaves the car with a murmured merci, slinging her bag over her shoulder and running quickly out of the rain into the reception. Doriane is greeted with the warm embrace of Abbi, and the two stand together for a long moment.

 

Maybe Sergi shouldn’t be watching them, but he finds that he’s relieved to see she isn’t going to be on her own. Abbi rubs her hand on Doriane’s back, whilst Doriane just buries her face in her shoulder. Being a hero is hard work, and he’s glad that Doriane has someone to take care of her. After a few moments, the embrace ends, and the two head deeper into the hotel where Sergi can no longer see them.

 

He swallows, pulling out of the little parking space he’d stopped in, and drives back to his own hotel. One more week and Kimi will be home. He repeats it over and over again in his mind like a mantra. 

 

One more week. 

Notes:

Did anyone realise that this fic used to have a chapter count of 16? I miss when this was a 10k one shot and not rapidly approaching the 300,000 word mark... Today is actually very exciting, because 152k means that not only is this my longest ever fanfic on ao3 (exceeding my old MCC AU on an orphaned account, shoutout to Feast or Famine by amooniesong), but also it's now longer than the entire first draft of this fic, which was a pitiful 142k!

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter - it's been nice not writing from Kimi's twisted POV for a little bit. Hopefully we get him back soon though. One more week?

As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! And I'll see you in a week (or, tomorrow, if I actually write something for Bearnelli Week day two lol!)

Chapter 10: Issue 10: Introducing... The Prema Powerteam!

Milan, Italy
Thursday 04 September 2025

 

There’s nowhere quite like Monza. It’s a track steeped in history, and filled with potential. A place that’s almost bigger than Formula 1. The black ribbon that wraps around 3.6 miles of Italian greenery is perhaps the most culturally significant spot in the country. More than the Colosseum, more than the Leaning Tower of Pisa, more than the canals of Venice or the galleries of Florence. Monza is where the Tifosi make their yearly pilgrimage. Monza is where the streets turn red and yellow. Monza is where Catholicism doesn’t hold a torch to Ferrari. Even now, on a Thursday, during a track walk, the circuit is lined with fans. Some in the grandstands watching on, others practically clawing at the fences to catch a glimpse of Charles Leclerc or Lewis Hamilton for his first time in red. 

 

Those hoping to cheer for their countryman have prepared for sore disappointment, a disappointment that’s only become more pervasive as they’ve spotted George Russell and Valtteri Bottas in tandem - one on a bike and one on a scooter. 

 

Sergi keeps his head down as he walks, conscious of the fact that he probably should’ve put more sun cream on the back of his neck. He’s going to leave this place looking just as red as the Tifosi.

 

The days between Zandvoort and Monza have been turbulent at best for Sergi. He’s been up at the crack of dawn, trying desperately to smooth out the wrinkles of his plan. They’ve got one shot at bringing Kimi home, and if they don’t it’ll be a month before they have another opportunity. A month where the Hornet, the Wasp, and Kimi himself will have advanced warning of the group and their schemes. They’ll be able to regroup, to plan for a counterattack… Sergi doesn’t want to think of what might unfold in the next month if they fail tomorrow.

 

Between anxious planning sessions, there’s been frantic pauses for waves of guilt to crash over him as he’s done exactly as he’s doing right now: staring at his phone and reading the news. The destruction of the Afsluitdijk during a storm had drastic consequences - humanitarian and ecological. Sea defences further inland bought enough time for evacuations, which meant there were mercifully few casualties and a total number of injuries that the Dutch health system could handle. It could’ve been so much worse, but early warning systems saved most of the lives that would’ve been lost. That isn’t to say that nothing bad has happened. The environment has been thrown into disarray with the sudden influx of saltwater, habitats have been destroyed and land has been irreversibly changed. The Hornet, the Wasp, and the Silver Spider all now top the most wanted list on Interpol. 

 

When this all started, the Hornet seemed like a man driven to the edge by a passion, a purpose, trying to combat man-made climate change in the most extreme of ways. Now? Now he’s just dangerous. 

 

And he’s still got Kimi alongside him.

 

That’s the worst part of it. Maybe Sergi is hopelessly selfish, and altogether not cut out for this superhero life, but the fact that Kimi is still caught up in this… It destroys him.

 

He’s dropped back from the group as they walk around the track, and he drops back further as they make their way towards Parabolica. He has a tremendously uneasy sensation as they begin to round the corner, and so before he reaches the apex he finds himself veering off to the left. He leaves the track, walks over the runoff and the gravel, and dips behind the barriers to make his way through the trees and down over a rough track. It’s much cooler in the shade, but it isn’t long at all before the trees part and he comes face to face with a near vertical slab of concrete.

 

Classic Parabolica is so much more intimidating than he expected it to be.

 

He takes a few steps forward, ascending as far as he dares. The angle of the corner becomes too sharp for him to ascend quickly, so he just sits down where the shade from the trees ripples as wind blows through the leaves and branches above. It’s quieter here than he expected it to be, with nothing but the birds and the bees for company. Real bees, this time. Sergi’s glad of that at least. He still sighs as he leans back, makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can, and he closes his eyes. It’s as if he’s still sat upright when his back presses against the cool shaded slab behind him. He rests his fingers on either side of his body, tracing over the cracks in the cement.

 

Kimi would’ve loved to be here.

 

Well, maybe that’s not quite true. Kimi would’ve been racked with anxiety - more than usual - after they approached Parabolica. The same spot he left the track to walk this way, Kimi would’ve fixated on. He would’ve crouched down, maybe even laid down, run his hands over the tarmac to make sure it’s smooth, to feel for any bumps, anywhere that seems greener than the rest of the circuit. He’d have obsessed over it for hours, talking with Bono in detail about the best way to approach the corner. 

 

Maybe there is at least one small silver lining in Kimi not racing this weekend.

 

Sergi doesn’t know how long he’s there in isolation, just listening to the world around him, but eventually there’s the sound of an electrical engine whirring away. When he opens one eye to see what’s going on, he can see George at the lowest point of the corner, trying to ride his scooter without creeping even an inch up the banked side of the concrete. Because, for the uninitiated, an electrical scooter doesn’t have the same horsepower or downforce as a Formula 1 car - trying to drive it up the steep side of Parabolica would be a broken arm in the making. And after two brilliant weekends, he’s only 6 points behind Oscar in the Championship. The last thing he needs is a broken arm to take him out of the running. 

 

George eventually gives up with the scooter entirely, turning it off and placing it on the ground, walking over to Sergi’s side. He realises that a conversation is about to take place, so he opens both of his eyes and sits up a little more - not that it really makes a difference.

 

“Nice day, isn’t it?” George asks, lowering himself down to sit beside him. 

 

Sergi hums.

 

“Hot,” he comments. “It’ll be bad for the tyres on Sunday.”

 

“Everything is bad for the tyres, unless you’re a McLaren,” George jokes. 

 

Sergi doesn’t laugh. This conversation feels awkward. George clearly wants to ask him something but doesn’t want to just come out with it. He sorely wishes he would, small talk isn’t something he enjoys.

 

“How’s Kimi doing?” 

 

There it is. 

 

“Whenever I ask Toto he’s all secretive about it, tells me he’s recovering from an injury, but I’ll be honest - no one’s actually told me what that injury is. It’s a bit suspicious, really. And you’re his trainer, so if anyone knows the truth…”

 

“That is the truth,” he explains. “Kimi’s recovering from an injury.”

 

“Alright, but what injury? I know he had a concussion after Austria, but he was allowed to race in Silverstone. And even with an injury, why has he just vanished? He’s not been to any team meetings in a month, he’s not answered calls or texts, I don’t think he’s even been in the groupchat. I’ve even got Bearman texting me asking to get Kimi to respond to him. I don’t know why he thinks I’ve got that kind of power.”

 

The problem with Formula 1 drivers is, even if they don’t want to admit it, they’re smart. Not always book smart - Sergi knows enough about George to know that he dropped out of school when he was 13 - but observant. They have to be. To make an overtake you have to be able to recognise the patterns of the driver in front of you: where they brake, where they defend, what lines they prefer. To win a race you have to be able to think about pit stops: if you can’t overtake, can you make an undercut work? To win a Championship, you need to be able to take every opportunity presented. You have to trust your instincts blindly. Of course George is smart enough to realise that Kimi’s been missing since Hungary. Of course his instincts are screaming at him that this isn’t normal.

 

“A hand injury,” Sergi offers.

 

It’s not exactly a lie, after all.

 

“Oh, shit,” George exhales. “Is he going to be back racing any time soon?” 

 

“In Baku, we hope,” he nods.

 

“Shit,” George repeats. “He probably doesn’t want to hear from me, does he? I mean, if I’d broken my hand in my rookie season… Mate, that’s awful. Well, look, at least he’s got you to look after him,” he offers.

 

It sends guilt washing over Sergi. Kimi wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d done a better job of looking after him.

 

Before he can say anything else, his phone is buzzing in his pocket, and pulling it out reveals a message from Toto. It’s an excuse to cut the conversation short, which is probably a good idea given how close he is to accidentally saying something he shouldn’t. 

 

“I need to go,” Sergi says, pushing himself back to his feet and stumbling a bit on the slope. “Have a good weekend, mate.”

 

George raises a hand to give him a quiet wave, and Sergi follows the banked corner as it curves back towards the modern track. The exit of the corner is busy, with teams and drivers deep in discussion about the pit entrance. It’s not just the Formula 1 teams there, but the feeder series too. Formula 2 has mandatory pit stops in the Feature race, so their drivers definitely need to know how to attack the pit lane. Formula 3 drivers don’t need to pit, but in the event that they do it’s useful to know the best way to approach. Particularly this weekend, the end of their Championship. Anything could happen. No one wants to watch a title slip through their fingers because they lost their front wing or got a puncture and couldn’t make the stop in a way that allowed them to recover.

 

As Sergi makes his way through the group, his head is on a swivel. When he passes the Prema squad he places a hand on the small of Pedro’s back and when he turns to look at who’s brushed against him, gives the engineer a nod. Pedro is quick to excuse himself and trail behind him. Esteban is even easier to catch the attention of, given he’s looking straight at him. All he has to do is wave a hand and the driver peels away from his group. 

 

So they enter the pit lane as a trio, and they make their way back to the Mercedes garage without a word spoken. Doriane, a guest of the team until she has to leave tomorrow evening to make it to Austria in time for her own race weekend, doesn’t need so much as a look to join them. She falls into step easily, moving through hospitality until they arrive at Toto’s office. Sergi knocks out of politeness, but doesn’t wait to be invited inside before he opens the door and allows his companions to step inside first. He’s the last to enter, closing and locking the door behind them. 

 

There aren’t enough chairs in the office for this many people. Doriane and Esteban sit on the sofa - Doriane further away from him than Esteban -, Pedro sits on a chair at the desk, and Sergi ends up standing with his hands folded anxiously over his chest. 

 

“Everything is ready,” Toto breaks the silence. 

 

Four heads turn to him in unison as Toto steps up from behind the desk, opening up a cupboard with the two new suits for Pedro and Esteban, and the clean suits for Sergi and Doriane. Doriane is the only one to have anything special, her suit being repurposed from Kimi’s old suit, whereas the others are all dull and simple - purpose and utility above all else. It still has Esteban reeling, gasping with excitement as he gets to his feet to examine his suit. 

 

“Oh my gosh,” he practically squeals with excitement.

 

It must feel like a dream coming true right now, and Sergi decides to let him have that moment. It’ll all come crashing down in a minute when he tries to explain his plan and the group realise the seriousness of the situation, the reality of what they’ve agreed to.

 

“Sergi can show you how your equipment works, he’s already had time to try it out for himself.” 

 

“And me,” Doriane chimes in helpfully.

 

“And Doriane,” Toto nods in agreement. “You also have shields and crossbows. The arrows are explosive, I’ll keep them safe until you need them.”

 

“Until tomorrow,” Sergi says, feeling something pooling in his stomach.

 

Fear, most likely. A splash of apprehension. His words have everyone in the room looking at him, and the weight of responsibility crushes him. Their eyes bore into his soul like they think he has all the answers, but he doesn’t. He barely has any. He’s got a plan that he’s thought about for almost a month and is still desperately unsure if it’s even possible to execute. He’s desperate to save Kimi, but he’s got to keep them safe too. Not just them, but everyone else. Friday might be Practice day for Formula 1, but it’s still Monza. The Tifosi will be out in force. The feeder paddock will be full of engineers, mechanics, drivers and their families. Everyone coming out of this alive depends on him and him alone. 

 

How does Kimi cope with this?

 

“Well,” he starts slowly, realising they’d like to hear at least some of the plan. “Kimi’s been brainwashed.”

 

“Kimi?” Esteban asks, frowning. “The Hornet got to him?”

 

Right. Maybe he needs to start a few steps back. He hopes Kimi will forgive him for this. He can’t save him alone, he needs help.

 

“Kimi is the Silver Spider,” he says - words that don’t affect Doriane in the slightest, but catch Pedro and Esteban off guard.

 

“That doesn’t leave this room, you can’t tell anyone,” he stresses.

 

“So… In Silverstone…” Esteban says slowly.

 

Sergi can’t tell if he’s thinking about the media frenzy or the fact that the Hornet made off with an unconscious Silver Spider over his shoulder. Now isn’t the time to think too hard about things, though, so he continues with his own explanation. Esteban can process things on his own time.

 

“The Hornet made him ingest something, the same thing he gave Doriane in Canada.”

 

The room turns to her briefly.

 

“But it’s stronger, it’s longer lasting, and we need to find a way to break through it and bring Kimi home safely. He’s dangerous right now, and there’s three of them, which is why I need all of your help. We outnumber them now.” 

 

Not that it’s going to mean much given their sheer strength, but maybe it’ll help in making the uphill battle more of a Mount Wycheproof and less of a Mount Everest. 

 

“We have an antidote, thanks to Toto and the team, and if we can reach him we can inject him with it and it will cure him. But we need to get to him. We don’t want to have to hurt him if we can help it, so that’s where you two come in,” he gestures to Pedro and Esteban. “Ollie and Maggie.”

 

“That’s why you wanted me to be okay with kidnapping?” Pedro asks, and Sergi nods.

 

“If we can hold the two of them hostage in an obvious place, we’ll lure Kimi to our location. If he comes alone, then everything is easy. If he comes with the Hornet and the Wasp, we fight them until we can get to Kimi.”

 

“This isn’t a suicide mission,” Toto tells the room. “The team is developing more weapons that can be used against the Hornet and the Wasp. Once you have Kimi, you retreat.”

 

“But what if we can stop them?” Doriane asks. 

 

She’s looking at Toto with the same expression on her face that he was on the receiving end of a week ago when he told her they couldn’t go after Kimi. He knows how determined she is, he knows how reckless she can be. As much as she’s useful, and someone he desperately needs on his side, she’s a wildcard. 

 

“You have to trust us, Doriane,” Sergi implores. “We have time to stop the Hornet and the Wasp, and if we get Kimi back then he can help us too.”

 

“I don’t like it,” she states simply, pouting ever so subtly as she sits back on the sofa.

 

Sergi doesn’t like the tension in the room, but he has to push on. She’ll come around, he’s sure of it. 

 

“We’ll do it tomorrow, after the second Practice session. Once the track is clear and the crowd is leaving, we’ll strike. Any earlier than that puts more people in danger than necessary. Any later, and we don’t have Doriane. This is our only chance to save Kimi, we have to prioritise him.”

 

“Do you think it will work?” Pedro dares to ask.

 

“It has to work,” Sergi replies. “We’ll make it work. Everyone in this room loves Kimi.”

 

“Actually, I think Ollie would kick me in the knees if I loved Kimi,” Esteban adds playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

 

It doesn’t really work.

 

“No one here is going to let him get hurt. No one is going to give up on him. As long as we work together, the plan will work.”

 

He has to believe it. If he doesn’t believe it, then no one else will believe it. And if no one else believes it, then they’ve already lost. He can’t lose Kimi. He won’t lose Kimi. So the plan will work, and that’s the end of that.

 

+ + +

 

Milan, Italy
Friday 05 September 2025

 

The shift in the atmosphere from media day to Practice day is noticeable. Sergi remembers it - he was here with Kimi last year, after all - but he was far too concerned with tending to Kimi’s mental and physical state to really absorb what was happening around him. Trying to make sure Kimi’s concussion wasn’t getting any worse and simultaneously dealing with the emotional highs and lows of the weekend meant that nothing outside of Kimi existed to him. 

 

It’s funny how so much has changed, but nothing has changed. 

 

Walking in alone is something he’s gotten rather used to now, and no one really shows any interest in taking photos of him. He can make his way through the paddock to Mercedes hospitality without being stopped, which means he can sit himself down and stare at the plans for the afternoon as soon as possible. A few hours are all that stands between him and getting Kimi back, and it just feels… Strange. He doesn’t understand how he’s just sitting here when something so monumental is about to happen. The day feels as if it should be marked by something, but it’s not. For everyone else, it’s just Friday. It’s just business as usual. No one else knows what kind of danger is going to be descending on the track before they can stop for dinner. 

 

Sergi tries to keep his focus on the plans, rather than letting his mind wander off to the what ifs that plague him whenever he tries to sleep. It’s something that’s easier said than done, though, and it’s something that only gets harder when he’s no longer alone. When he can hear quiet sobs through the paper thin walls of the motorhome.

 

They’re muffled, and not just because there is still a wall between them. It’s a sign that whoever is crying, they don’t want to be found. So Sergi tries his best to ignore the sound out of respect. But as time keeps passing, and the cries don’t seem to stop, he feels compelled to at least go and see if the person crying is alright. No one else is doing anything, someone has to.

 

So he gets to his feet, the room still relatively empty, and he walks around the corner to try and track down where the sound is coming from. When he does manage to pin it down, he can’t help but reconsider whether or not he’s going to be the person to help. He really doesn’t think he should be the one to offer assistance when he’s staring down the door to the women’s bathroom, but no one else is making a move to help. Sergi knocks on the door softly, opens the door just a crack and calls in.

 

“Hello?” He says. “Is everything alright?”

 

There’s a hurried sniffle, the sound of tissue paper being pulled from a dispenser, but nothing else. He’s half tempted to turn and walk away, to wonder if he’s already crossed a line that he shouldn’t have and abort mission before he makes things worse, but before he can remove his hand from the door it’s being pulled inwards and opened wide. In front of him, Veronica reveals herself.

 

The mother looks up at Sergi with bloodshot eyes and poorly concealed tears. Her makeup is running and she looks as if she hasn’t slept in weeks. Sergi, frankly, feels like he’s looking in a mirror, though maybe he’s got a little less makeup on.

 

“Veronica…” He says slowly, and she shakes her head.

 

As she pushes past him, Sergi follows her. He doesn’t run, even when she speeds up, because he knows where she’s going. It’s where he found her several times last year, after Kimi’s crash. He makes it to the rooftop terrace a little after she does, and he goes to sit beside her in silence. The morning air is warm already and the sound of Formula 3 engines pierces the silence. He slips an arm around her shoulders, and despite pushing away just a minute ago she folds in on him.

 

“Will I ever come to this place without crying?” She asks him quietly.

 

It’s not exactly a stellar track record. Last year she had to watch her son suffer a horrible crash and handle the devastating emotions that came with it, and this year she has no son to speak of. He isn’t sure how much he’s really capable of reassuring her without letting on too much, but he can’t just let her sit in her upset.

 

“He’ll be with you this evening,” Sergi promises. “I’m going to bring him home today.”

 

Veronica wipes her cheeks with the back of her hands. She looks older than the last time he saw her, even if that was only a few weeks ago. He can’t imagine what losing a child could do to a person. As horrible as this situation is for Sergi, he has answers. He knows what’s happened to Kimi, he knows how he’s going to save him. Veronica has no such luxury. She’s in the dark, and that’s a whole other kind of grief he can’t even begin to process.

 

“I never wanted him to race,” she confesses. “Neither did his father, at first. I wonder, if I’d been firmer, told him no, would this still have happened?” 

 

Sergi can’t answer that, because he knows that it wouldn’t. If she thinks there was ever a chance to stop this from happening, to protect Kimi from this fate, then she’ll never recover from the guilt that builds in her chest. He does know what that feels like. Every breath he’s taken over the last few weeks has been filled with it. It grows in his lungs, prickling the inside of his chest with every breath, threatening to choke him if he spends too long thinking about it. It’s why he’s focused so hard on the plan, because it feels like he’s doing something if he thinks about the plan. Even if it hasn’t materially changed in the past ten days, it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.

 

“Will he be okay?”

 

“I’d give my life to keep him safe, Veronica,” he tells her truthfully. 

 

If that’s what it comes down to this afternoon, he won’t hesitate. He’s lived a decently long life, long enough that if it came to an end today it wouldn’t be nearly as tragic as if the world lost Kimi. If he slipped away before he could show them all just how brilliant of a driver he is, if his parents and his sister had to navigate a future without him… It would be a waste.

 

Sergi isn’t special, he knows that. He accepts and understands that now more than ever.

 

Veronica moves away from him, getting to her feet and taking a few steps towards the edge of the terrace. Sergi is up quickly, just in case, but she rests her arms against the railings and looks out over the paddock without giving him reason to panic. He still makes his way to her side, watching people mingle. The teams are a hive of activity already, even though there’s still hours until the first Practice session of the weekend. Between those in team kit, fans and celebrities wander aimlessly and without purpose. They have to be herded to the side as the Formula 3 cars make their way towards the pit lane, which is when Sergi spots exactly what it is she’s looking at.

 

Maggie has always been the kind of girl to walk around the paddock unaccompanied. Like a lot of children in racing families, she’s grown up in this environment and knows how to handle herself. He’s admittedly surprised that the Antonelli’s aren’t holding her close, but perhaps they’re worried that if they cling to her too tightly then she’ll rebel, and things will only be worse than if they’d just given her the freedom she yearned for in the first place.

 

She’s well known in the paddock, too. No one here is going to hurt Maggie.

 

“Last time we saw him,” Veronica says, not taking her eyes off her daughter. “He destroyed one of her toys. Bombo. A cat.”

 

Sergi nods. He’s familiar with Kimi’s rants about the plushie.

 

“She loved it, and she was heartbroken. I know that you said the Hornet has made him a target, but I’m worried she won’t understand that. That she’ll hold what Andy did against him. She’s only ten, it’s difficult to explain something like this to her when I don’t have answers either.”

 

He can’t offer anything to Veronica, even though he can sense what it is she’s after. The truth. He’s been lying to her for years, more directly since Silverstone, and as much as it hurts to be unable to explain things to a grief stricken mother, he keeps his mouth shut. He watches as Maggie peers at the Formula 3 cars that drive inches away from her. He jolts when someone places a hand on her shoulder, and his whole body tenses when he realises that someone is none other than Sebastian Vettel.

 

He’s here. 

 

“Oh, thank goodness he’s here,” Veronica says fondly. “Sebastian offered to replace Bombo when we told him what happened, and she’s been desperate.”

 

It unfolds exactly as he’d expect it to, with Sebastian crouching down and pulling Maggie into a hug, revealing the brand new cat toy for her. She embraces it tightly, as if she’s going to squeeze it in half, and then she’s chattering Sebastian’s ear off. He listens, smiles, responds to her in a way that keeps her engaged.

 

If Kimi were here, he’d be furious. Sergi is furious on his behalf, but there’s nothing that he can do realistically. All he can do is watch, and wince when the two of them walk behind a building so he can’t see them anymore.

 

“He’s so kind,” Veronica tells him.

 

It seems that they have very different opinions of Sebastian Vettel.

 

Sergi wonders how she’d feel if she knew the truth. If she knew that man had turned her son against her, her family, the world. If she knew that Kimi was somewhere nearby, hurting and frightened and forced into doing things he’d never otherwise do because of him. Would she set that toy on fire and move her family to a new town, with new names, and start a new life where Sebastian couldn’t touch them?

 

He hopes so.

 

“Are you sure Andy will come home tonight? The old Andy?”

 

“I swear,” Sergi assures her.

 

Veronica nods, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks again. She steps back from the railing and walks away, back inside, leaving Sergi to bake on the terrace alone. He watches the crowds, hopes in vain that Maggie will reappear in front of him again and that he’ll know she’s safe and sound. But she doesn’t, and his heart beats faster in his chest - uncomfortably fast. 

 

He turns to run out and see if he can find her, but he’s face to face with Doriane. He jumps.

 

“You have got to stop sneaking up on people like that!” He complains, heart still too quick.

 

“Sergi, I need to talk to you,” she says, ignoring his complaints. “How much of that antidote do you have?”

 

Sergi blinks, his head spinning as he comes crashing down from his anxiety about Maggie and finds himself thrown into a whole new world of fear.

 

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check, it’s in Toto’s office still,” he says breathlessly. “Why?”

 

“I think I need it,” she whispers. 

 

Sergi’s eyes widen and he steps forward. The last few conversations he’s had with Doriane she’s been combative and headstrong, more than he’s used to, but now she looks small and frightened. She’s trembling a little, so he reaches out to take her hands and stop them from shaking.

 

“Doriane?”

 

“I ingested it, didn’t I?” She explains. “Not a lot, but enough. And it wore off. But I think… I think something got left behind.” 

 

Sergi thinks through what she’s saying, because he can follow her logic. Kimi has clearly taken a lot of the serum, and he’s completely under the thumb of the Hornet. Doriane had a little, but it was still enough to control her for a short amount of time. If something is lingering in her system it might not be enough to order her around, but it would go some way to explaining why she seems a little angrier than usual. It would at least mean that she doesn’t need a lot of the antidote to flush her system, but he still needs to make sure he has enough for Kimi. A slightly angry Doriane is much easier to handle than Kimi entirely off the rails.

 

“Come on,” he says softly, squeezing her hands. “Let’s see what we can find, alright?”

 

They walk through hospitality together, ignoring the steadily growing busyness around them. Toto is already in the garage, which means his office is empty, so they can step inside without having to ask. Doriane moves straight to Toto’s seat, pulling her legs up to her chest as she spins herself mindlessly back and forth. Sergi opens the cupboard where their suits are being stored, rifling through the box of goodies - an idle Pedro, the various web slinging bracelets - and takes out a little test tube and a syringe. 

 

The liquid in the test tube exceeds the capacity of the syringe, which insinuates to him that there’s enough to spare for Doriane. And if this antidote has been tested, if it’s going to be safe to use on Kimi, then it’ll be safe to work on her too.

 

“Bingo,” he says, turning around to face her with a smile.

 

She smiles back weakly, trying to convince herself that this is okay.

 

He puts the needle of the syringe into the liquid and draws it out slowly. It’s a clear liquid, slightly cloudy, and thicker than he expected it to be. Sergi decides, given she’s had a far smaller dose of the serum in the first place, that he doesn’t want to give her more than a fraction of what Kimi will get later. The whole syringe holds 50ml, so he gives her 10ml instead.

 

“Are you ready?” He asks.

 

Doriane nods her head. 

 

“Where do you think we should do it?” Doriane asks.

 

“Your shoulder?” Sergi suggests - that’s where people get vaccines, and blood gets drawn from people’s arms, so it makes the most sense for him to inject her there.

 

Doriane nods her head, and immediately starts to roll up her sleeve as Sergi grabs the other chair in the room and pulls it around to sit behind the desk. It feels a little bit strange being on Toto’s side, but Sergi’s mind doesn’t linger on that. Instead, he focuses on the pale skin of Doriane’s arm, the tightness in her muscles that he recognises as anxiety. He doesn’t know if there’s an art to how this should work, but he moves himself as close to her as he can before he brings the needle to her skin.

 

When she looks away, he glances up at her. 

 

“Want me to count down?”

 

“Please.”

 

“Three, two…”

 

He punctures her skin, taking her by surprise to try and balance the offer to count down, but to keep her from bracing. She still stiffens a bit, but relaxes swiftly as he presses down on the syringe to inject her. 

 

“It feels kind of cold,” she observes.

 

Once he’s injected all of the antivenom into her he pulls back, removing the needle of the syringe so he doesn’t use it again. There’ll be another one somewhere, probably with the team doctor, that he can pilfer before Kimi’s with them once more. He runs his hand over her skin, thumb pressing against the puncture site, and when he’s happy enough with his work he rolls her sleeve back down for her.

 

“Not so bad, right?”

 

“It was okay,” she shrugs.

 

“Just let me know if anything feels wrong,” he says. “We can talk to Toto about it if we need to. For now, just rest. Let it do its work. You should be fine for later.”

Doriane nods, getting to her feet to leave as Sergi puts everything back where he found it. He goes straight to acquiring the new needle for the syringe, not wanting to risk being caught short, and takes that back to the office before he watches as the weekend starts to unfold.

 

As Formula 3 and Formula 2 host their Practice sessions, the grandstands start to fill. The Tifosi swarm, a sea of flags and flares watching as the next generation work their way up the ladder of motorsports. Because Ferrari isn’t just about Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton - it’s about the Academy, too. Ollie will have a wealth of support all weekend from the fans, as will Dino Beganovic, Tuukka Taponen, and Rafael Camara. Rafael is almost guaranteed to be crowned as the Formula 3 Champion this weekend, and both he and Tuukka are expected to step up to Formula 2 next year. Three Ferrari backed drivers on the Formula 2 grid next year will ensure these stands are filled to the brim for the feeder series.

 

But wherever they finish this weekend, whatever comes of the next few races, the Tifosi will cheer all of their names. Their support knows no bounds. They are Ferrari drivers, and so they will be placed on a pedestal and held above the rest until the celebrations come to a close on Sunday evening.

 

When Formula 1 Practice rolls around, and the cars prepare to leave the pit lane, the sound of the engines is drowned out by the chants of the Tifosi. It’s glorious. Nothing compares to it. Sergi knows, in his heart, that one day this crowd will be louder. One day this crowd will be wild. One day Kimi will be in front of them, but he’ll be in red. It might be a long way away, fifteen years and seven World Championships away, but it will happen some day. Italy will unite around the boy from Bologna, and they’ll never stop screaming his name…

 

First, he has to save him.

 

The session passes quickly, and Sergi’s nerves become something he can’t ignore. They build as the minutes tick down, as evening draws closer, as the knowledge that soon he’ll have to put his plan into action. Soon, he’ll find out if he’s thought of everything. Soon, he’ll be responsible for either bringing Kimi home, or for putting people in such devastating danger. 

 

He feels like he’s sweating, his palms cold and clammy despite the scorching heat of an Italian summer. 

 

Sitting isn’t going to help. He needs to get up, to walk, to clear his head. Because if he tries to save Kimi whilst he’s this pent up, he’s never going to get anywhere. 

 

He leaves hospitality behind as the feeder series start to make their way back to the pit lane. The Formula 3 drivers have their Qualifying session first, and in a season where no one other than Rafael Camara and Nikola Tsolov have claimed pole position, it’s one final opportunity to break their streak - or for the pair to add to it. Sergi makes his way through the Prema team, offering a few waves, but for the most part moving past them and trying not to get too much into their way. Being in the pit lane and listening to mechachrome engines firing up is nostalgic, and it helps keep his mind off the inevitable for a little bit longer. He doesn’t manage to get very far away from Prema before Rene is patting his shoulder and inviting him closer, and he ends up sitting on a spare seat on the pit wall and listening in to the radios between engineer and driver.

 

They’re being coached through their tyre warm up procedures on their out laps. Normally, they’d need two preparation laps to get the tyres up to temperature, but the sun beating down on the track is so intense and the tarmac is so hot that even one is almost too much.

 

But then comes a very different message.

 

“Mate, what the fuck is that?!”

 

Drivers, on the radio, usually sound angry and sassy, or calm and collected. It’s very rare that a driver sounds scared. Even in the case of a crash, adrenaline usually keeps them going until the medical team can get to them, and they’ll sit in their cars and rant about the guy that crashed into them in the hopes of getting them a penalty. So to hear Ugo’s tone so frightened… It unnerves Sergi.

 

“Oh, shit, I’m boxing!”

 

Noel’s voice is just as panicked, and if Sergi looks to the right or the left he can see that, along the pit lane, every engineer is having the same conversation with their drivers. Frantic, unclear, worrying.

 

“I’m in the gravel! Fuck! I’m getting out!”

 

Brando is the last driver to join the fray, and Sergi takes his headset off. He’s got an awful, horrible feeling about this. Not the same as Kimi’s tingles - which he’s impossibly envious of right now - but enough that he needs to run to the end of the pit lane, to where the high hospitality buildings end, and when he does…

 

Shit. 

 

In the sky, there’s a cloud. Except it’s not a cloud, not by any stretch of the imagination. The only cloud he’s ever seen like this before was in Bahrain. And, in the middle of this not-cloud, the Hornet hovers. He’s surrounded by his Swarm, he’s laughing, and people are screaming. The crowd is panicked in the blink of an eye, trying desperately to flee, but that desperation is causing a stampede and the Hornet doesn’t even have to intervene to inflict injury. In fact, if he did intervene, there’s a chance that he’d actually be saving lives.

 

Sergi has to sprint away, back to Mercedes hospitality, to change into his suit and hope that the others have the same idea. The plan he’s worked on meticulously over the past few weeks was all for naught. He should never have thought he could outsmart the Hornet.

 

When he bursts into Toto’s office, Esteban and Pedro are already there, already pulling on their suits, and Sergi grabs his own to… Well, to follow suit.

 

“Have you seen Doriane?” He asks, noticing that her suit is still hanging. 

 

They both shake their heads.

 

It’s not ideal, but then he sent her to rest. For all he knows, she’s taking a nap somewhere, entirely oblivious to this situation. They don’t have time to go and find her, all they can do is their best. Without her it’s still a 3 vs 3 fight, the numbers are even if nothing else. Once he’s into his suit he tosses the bracelets to Esteban and Pedro, and then the crossbows. He’s much more careful with the arrows - the last thing he wants to do is accidentally explode one in their faces, set off a chain reaction, and die in Toto’s office. When he agreed to fighting the Hornet for the sake of getting Kimi back, he knew there was a chance he’d die. But in Toto’s office? Really? There’s better places to make a final stand.

 

The last thing he does is activate Pedro - the spider - and place him on his shoulder. 

 

“We’re getting Kimi back, Pedro,” Sergi announces to the robot as he wakes up.

 

“The Silver Spider!” Pedro says gleefully.

 

“The spider is called Pedro?” Esteban asks, smiling gently as he looks between both Pedros.

 

“That’s not going to get confusing, is it, mate?” Pedro - the human - laughs.

 

“It’s simple. Pedro is the spider, Pedro the human is you.” Sergi explains, which only makes Esteban laugh as Pedro - the human - furrows his brows.

 

“I came first,” he complains, though there’s an edge of amusement to his words.

 

It’s not a discussion that can last, though. With their equipment allocated they pull their masks over their faces and run from the office, making their way through hospitality with ease. Because, unsurprisingly, no one is looking at them. Even if they were, they’d be far too scared to put the pieces together. The trio run away from the screaming, against the crowds trying to leave, and back towards the race track.

 

The Hornet is still ominously floating in the air, his Swarm flanking him on all sides, and he has their attentions entirely as they stand in the pit lane. Sergi walks forward, looking for the hole in the wall used to push stalled Dallara chassis back to the pits, and he beckons Pedro - the human - and Esteban to follow him when he finds it. For now, they’re still more or less invisible amongst the equipment and personnel who’ve decided to shelter where they are instead of run, the cars abandoned in pit lane as drivers and mechanics have fled back into the Formula 1 garages for safety. Once they step out onto the track, they’re exposed to it all, three men and a robot spider out in the open.

 

They stare up at the Hornet, waiting for him to make a move. But the most he moves is to look down and acknowledge them with faint interest. More than anything, he just seems tickled by their appearance. 

 

“What do we do?” Esteban asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Sergi admits.

 

His heart is pounding against his ribs, hard enough that he can feel them shaking. Despite the increased flow of oxygen to his brain, he can’t think of anything to do to combat the Hornet right now. He’s spent so long obsessing over his plan that anything but the plan just feels wrong. Waiting for the Hornet to move the first move is, probably, a terrible idea. Maybe he should suggest that they load their crossbows and shoot at the Swarm, see how many they can take out in one go. Maybe they should shoot their webs in unison and try to take him down.

 

Instead, there’s a flash of movement that Sergi catches in the corner of his eye, and he looks down to investigate. 

 

The Wasp and the Silver Spider are strutting out over the catwalk towards the podium, but they aren’t alone. The Silver Spider has Charles Leclerc in his grasp, holding his wrists behind his back with one hand whilst the other points a crossbow directly at his skull. The Wasp follows with a seven-time World Champion in his grip, though he’s got a gloved hand in his braided hair and another on his waist. Before this, Sergi wasn’t entirely sure who the Wasp really was underneath his mask, but he’s confident he knows now. 

 

They make their way out onto the podium, the Wasp standing on the second place step and the Silver Spider on the third. The drivers are forced to their knees in front of them, the Silver Spider with a weapon still trained on the back of Charles Leclerc’s head and the Wasp reluctantly following suit in his treatment of Lewis Hamilton. Sergi focuses on the Silver Spider, squinting behind his mask. Something is wrong. No, something is right, but that in and of itself is wrong.

 

He’s got all his fingers.

 

From the sky, the Hornet descends to take the top step, though the Swarm still hover menacingly above them all. For those that haven’t managed to escape the grandstands yet - caught up in the crush or too terrified to move - the scene is horrifying. Two Ferrari drivers, held hostage on the podium at the temple of speed. Neither men are doing much to hide their fear. Lewis is complaining, trying to argue his way out of the situation, whilst Charles has his head hung low and his eyes closed, muttering something softly to himself. A prayer, perhaps.

 

Sergi thinks about more than just the Ferrari drivers on the podium, because there’s more poetry in the moment than they know. The Hornet, on the top step, Sebastian Vettel. His head is tilted back as he soaks up the memories of former glory, of what it felt like to stand on the top step and hear his name cheered. The Wasp won here too, the year that he took the Championship. And then there’s Kimi… Kimi, who took his first shaky corners in the public eye last year. Kimi, whose blood comes from the ground beneath them. Kimi, who bears the weight of expectation to be their next great.

 

“We have to do something,” Pedro - the human - says.

 

He pulls his crossbow from his back and reaches for an arrow, but Sergi holds an arm out to stop him.

 

“We have to save Kimi,” he reminds firmly. “We need to split them up. They might’ve tampered with his suit to make him more vulnerable.”

 

Pedro - the human - lowers the crossbow fairly quickly. Of course he doesn’t need to be told twice not to do anything that would put Kimi in danger, but the frustration that there’s nothing he can do at the moment is building up regardless. Sergi can see it in his body.

 

“I’m waiting,” the Hornet calls.

 

His voice is warped not just by the voice changer over his mouth, but by his descent into madness. There’s something ominous about the way he speaks, and it sends a chill down Sergi’s spine. None of the three of them dare to move, and the Hornet’s eyes snap open. Even from this distance, Sergi can see the crazed whites, and he stumbles back at the suddenness of the motion. The Hornet jumps down from the top step of the podium and marches right up to the metal railings, leaning over.

 

“I’m disappointed,” he says simply. “I thought you’d put up a fight. I mean, you’ve got the costumes, the props, I thought you came here to do more than just stand there. Where’s the bravery, boys?” He asks. 

 

Sergi’s bravery evaporated when the Hornet derailed his plans. Now, all he’s got is save Kimi, don’t let anyone else die. What use is that? That’s not a plan, that’s just a vibe. 

 

“You’re nothing,” the Hornet gloats, and Sergi feels his eyes staring down at him. “You’ve never been anything. And you’ll never, ever get him back.”

 

In an instant, everything changes. Unbeknownst to himself, to Esteban and Pedro - the human -, and to the Hornet, Pedro has been on the move. Slowly, ever so slowly, he’s scuttled down from where he’d sat on Sergi’s shoulder, made his way over the tarmac, anchored his web to the bottom of the podium and started to lift himself up. He’s journeyed further still, from beneath the podium to on top of the podium. And no one has seen him, too absorbed in themselves, until it’s too late.

 

Until the Hornet’s equipment belt has fallen from his waist.

 

Until one of the bombs attached to that belt is jolted in just the right way to trigger a small explosion. 

 

The podium is engulfed in smoke and chaos erupts. First to emerge are Charles and Lewis, running from the podium as fast as they possibly can, back to the relative safety of hospitality as FIA officials are on hand to escort them inside and lock the door behind them (as if a locked door would stop the Hornet). Sergi, Esteban, and Pedro - the human - take this as an opportunity to load their weapons and position their shields, so that they’re ready for whatever comes their way when the smoke clears.

 

All three men left before them are holding weapons. Crossbows for the Wasp and the Silver Spider, and the Hornet with his sword. The Wasp runs and jumps, throwing himself over the barrier, using his wings to keep himself from being injured from the fall as he sets his sights on Esteban. When the Silver Spider dismounts the podium and descends to the track, his attention is squarely on his old engineer. Which of course leaves Sergi with one opponent left.

 

The Hornet. 

 

No pressure, he thinks to himself as he swallows back his anxiety and stares up at the villain looming over him. The Hornet is still standing high above the track, and Sergi swears he can feel him smirking behind his mask.

 

He stashes his weapons back at his side and raises an arm, shooting out his web, pulling himself up towards the podium. He flails, body not at all used to moving like this, and whilst the videos of Kimi moving from building to building are elegant and precise, he gets to the end of the web and has to grab onto the ledge with his hands, straining as he tries to pull his whole body up. It’s something that doesn’t work particularly well for him. Maybe it would have in different circumstances, but the fact of the matter here is that as he’s trying to pull himself up, the Hornet is stepping on his fingers and he’s letting go, falling down to the tarmac and landing on his back with an uncomfortable thud.

 

The Hornet laughs as he vaults the railings, his wings fluttering as he lowers himself to the ground and draws his sword. Sword. That sword. Despite how sore his body feels, and how much his body is screaming at him to stop, Sergi struggles to his feet. If that sword touches him, it’s game over. Esteban and Pedro - the human - will be fighting an uphill battle that they simply can’t win. And Kimi… Kimi will be gone. 

 

When the Hornet goes to swing his sword, Sergi crouches down to make himself as small as he can whilst taking his shield from his side and hiding behind it. The sword hits it, the noise low and dense. The force of the blow alone makes him sway backwards, and he has to catch himself with one hand to keep from losing his balance entirely. The tarmac is hot, even with a glove protecting his hand, and he winces. It’s a terrifyingly heavy weapon, and even without the amber serum coating it he’s sure it would do an awful lot of damage. 

 

Getting back to his feet, he watches the Hornet walk around him slowly, swinging his sword dramatically between his fingers. Sergi realises, very quickly, that the Hornet is toying with him. He doesn’t see him as a threat, so he’s taking his time and enjoying this. 

 

He’s not exactly given the Hornet a reason to be threatened by him, but maybe he can use this to his advantage. 

 

The Hornet thrusts his sword at him, and Sergi blocks it with his shield once more. With his free hand he grabs his crossbow, glad that it’s already loaded, and shoots. As the arrow lodges itself in the Hornet’s armour, Sergi stares at it. Toto said it would explode - why hasn’t it exploded?! Did he grab the wrong arrows? He frowns, and the Hornet laughs, plucking the arrow from his shoulder and staring at it.

 

And then it explodes. It’s not as large of an explosion as Sergi was hoping for, but then the head of the arrow is small. It’s enough to disorient the Hornet, and that buys Sergi precious seconds to turn and start to run away. His eyes look to Esteban and Pedro - the human - in their fights. Both of them seem to be holding up well, in the sense that they’re both still standing and aren’t dead on the ground. It’s good news - he’ll take some good news.

 

What they need right now, though, is an opportunity. An opportunity to get Kimi away from the Hornet and the Wasp, to give him the antidote, to get him to safety. With the Hornet and the Wasp still in play, there isn’t an opportunity. He has to find a way to stop them, or to overpower them, and the best way to do that right now…

 

That sword.

 

He turns around, looking back at the Hornet, who’s far closer than he remembered him being a moment ago. Sergi doesn’t have time to load the crossbow. He ducks behind his shield, and as the Hornet growls and regains his composure after another failed strike, he uses the crossbow as a blunt weapon instead. He bludgeons the side of the Hornet’s mask with it, feeling it shatter between his fingers, but grateful that he’s managed to find a way to get another few seconds to act unopposed.

 

Being without a weapon is a less than ideal situation, so he steps forward and builds on his momentum, grasping for the hilt of the sword. Even with the upper hand, it isn’t something he gets away with. If he thought it would be easy to just snatch the sword away then he finds himself quickly corrected, and the Hornet tightens his grasp on the weapon before pushing Sergi back. He goes from standing confidently to leaning back, and back, and back… Just as he’s about to fall he throws his arm out and squeezes his fingers, shooting out some web and feeling it anchor. He doesn’t know what he’s anchored against, but he doesn’t really care. The Hornet is getting ready to swing, he’s almost entirely fallen, so he pulls himself along.

 

That does the rest of the work pulling him to the ground, but rather than just lie there vulnerable he hurtles along the tarmac. It’s not exactly comfortable, but when he reaches the end of the web he rolls to a halt, somersaulting a couple of times before he lies flat on his back, panting, staring up at the sky. Up at the Swarm.

 

He doesn’t know how long he has, so he only lets himself take two deep breaths before he sits upright. The Hornet is, of course, following him. He doesn’t have the stamina for this kind of activity. Exercises are one thing, 100km bike rides are another, but a fight where his body is being bruised and broken with every passing second? Sergi aches. 

 

But Kimi isn’t safe yet, so he finds the strength to get back to his feet. He’s more or less at the pit entry now, far away from the fights Esteban and Pedro - the human - are conducting. Without his crossbow, all he’s got is his web and his shield. He’s going to need to get a little bit more creative if he wants to win this battle. 

 

As the Hornet pushes towards him, the Swarm begins to descend one by one towards Sergi. He raises the shield above his head, protecting himself from the explosions the ‘bees’ inflict. Pieces of shrapnel hit the face of the shield like hailstones, and he finds himself worrying just how durable it is. It’s metal, which is promising, but nothing lasts forever. The longer this continues, the worse it’s going to get. Not to mention that the Hornet is still approaching him, and he’d quite like to be able to use the shield to keep himself from being skewered on a sword. 

 

The closer the Hornet gets, the more pressing that decision becomes. 

 

But then, Sergi doesn’t have to choose.

 

The Hornet stops in his tracks, turning to look over his shoulder. In the pit lane, wandering aimlessly across the tarmac and towards the pit wall, is Maggie Antonelli.

 

She’s clinging the new Bombo close to her chest, walking out without anyone around her. Her parents aren’t there, Doriane isn’t there, Pedro - the human - and Esteban aren’t there. She’s alone, and she doesn’t seem to be aware of the degree of danger that she’s putting herself in.

 

“Maggie!” Sergi shouts, starting to run forward with the shield still above his head for protection.

 

The Hornet raises a hand, and Sergi ignores it. He can’t let her get hurt in this operation to save her brother. But ignoring the Hornet comes at a price, and that price is more of the Swarm descending in unison. A dozen ‘bees’ explode around him, and he can’t defend himself against them all. There’s nothing he can do but fall, and the Hornet approaches him to swipe his shield from his hands.

 

“You’ll stay there,” he says darkly.

 

This time, Sergi obeys. He has nothing to defend himself with, and nothing to attack with. All he can do is lie there and wait.

 

“Don't move, Bumblebee,” the Hornet calls towards Maggie as he starts to jog away, shield in hand.

 

He watches as the Swarm starts to descend toward the track, toward Maggie. His heart is in his throat, and Sergi feels sick to his stomach. Surely the Hornet won’t hurt a child. Surely, an innocent little girl is a step too far.

 

But the Swarm gets closer to her, and Sergi snaps his eyes shut. Whatever’s about to happen, he can’t bear to watch it unfold. The sound of an explosion, followed quickly by a frightened, youthful scream, horrifies him. He can only imagine the worst, a little girl blown apart for no reason other than being Kimi’s sister. The guilt will never leave him, and when Kimi is safe it’ll never leave him either. He has to open his eyes, whether he wants to or not. He has to see the truth.

 

And the truth of the matter is that the Hornet is crouched low, that he’s pulled Maggie close to him and used the shield to protect her from the Swarm. The Swarm that he is controlling. 

 

Somehow, it almost feels worse than the thought of Maggie exploding.

 

The Hornet’s attention is on her entirely when the Swarm stops attacking. Even from this distance, Sergi can see the way that he cups her cheeks gently, the way that he wipes her tears. He can only imagine the words of reassurance and affirmation he’s whispering to the frightened little girl, how he’s wrapping her up in thread that he’ll weave to his desires. But what can Sergi do? Get up and run to them and he could send the Swarm hurtling back towards them both. He could be killed, Maggie could be killed. 

 

The Hornet gets to his feet, Maggie’s hand in his, and he walks her calmly back to the pit lane. To safety. He crosses the fast lane with her and then waves his hand, encouraging her back inside the Mercedes garage. Only when she’s gone does this strange demeanor that’s clouded the Hornet lift. 

 

“What are we calling ourselves?” Esteban’s voice rings through his head, and Sergi stares up at the sky once again.

 

“Is now really the time for that discussion?” Pedro - the human - asks, ducking underneath another blow from the Silver Spider. 

 

“Well, we can’t decide on a name after we die,” Esteban replies.

 

Sergi closes his eyes. Lying here, even just briefly, has let fatigue kick in. His body is beyond exhausted, every part of him hurts, the thought of getting back to his feet is almost too much for him. He doesn’t have a weapon, he doesn’t have a shield, maybe he can bargain. Maybe he can hand himself over to the Hornet when he returns and the group can have Kimi back. He’s not sure if that would condemn him to a lifetime of brainwashed villainy, or if he’d be killed on the spot, but either option feels easier than fighting right now.

 

“You brought it up, mate,” Pedro - the human - points out. “Do you have a suggestion?”

 

“I do, actually,” he says.

 

Even mid-fight, Sergi can hear the smile in his voice.

 

“The Prema Powerteam.” 

 

“Ohhh, mate, that’s good,” Pedro - the human - agrees.

 

“I never worked for Prema,” Sergi corrects, enough of a reply to confirm that he’s still alive despite lying on the ground and awaiting his fate. “I work for Mercedes.”

 

“But you’re basically one of us,” Pedro - the human - tells him affectionately. 

 

He smiles a little, though it barely registers on his lips. Sergi is so unbelievably tired. It would be so easy. He could just close his eyes, he’d never even see it coming… It’s too late for that, though. A shadow is cast over him, the Hornet blocking out the sun, and he tuts and shakes his head.

 

“I thought you were going to put up a fight,” he sighs dramatically. “I thought he meant something to you.”

 

Sergi winces. Kimi means so much to him. It’s impossible to put into words how much he cares about him. But he doesn’t have the same instincts, the same powers, the same mind. Kimi is a natural, born to be a hero, and Sergi? This whole time people have placed their trust in him he’s just been a fraud. He’s let them down over and over again. He’s doing it again, now. 

 

He can’t die like that. If this kills him, he has to try to save Kimi until every drop of blood has drained from his body, until every last breath has been choked from his lungs. 

 

Sergi pushes himself up onto his elbows, raising his torso, but the Hornet’s boot presses down on his ribs. He’s forced back down, the Hornet squeezing the air from him as he’s forced against the tarmac. It’s a horrible experience, suffocating. He tries to find air, but he can’t. He tries to inhale, but the Hornet just steps on him even more firmly.

 

Above him, the Hornet raises his sword. He thought when he decided to fight until he couldn’t anymore that he’d have a chance to deliver a few more blows, that maybe he could punch the Hornet and do something to his armour before his demise, but all it’s done is make him aware of his final moments. It would’ve been easier to die when he’d accepted it, but now… Now he feels like even more of a failure.

 

The Hornet brings the sword down, and Sergi feels nothing. That’s not entirely true, actually. He feels something. The tiniest of pulls, an inch to the right, his body scraping along the tarmac just far enough so that the sword plunges into the track rather than his side. It’s enough of a jolt that the Hornet’s foot loses traction on his chest and Sergi can take a breath as he looks to his right to see what’s happened, and why.

 

And staring back at him, the smiling digital interface of Pedro.

 

His attention is back on the Hornet after a moment as he tries to remove the sword from the track, but he finds little success. A moment later his attempt is scuppered entirely, when there’s the sound of something metal hitting the back of his helmet. The Hornet turns on his heels, half stumbling, only to be hit again. And again. Sergi starts to move away, taking advantage of the situation, and once he’s no longer directly beneath the Hornet he sees what’s happened. 

 

Doriane Pin and her trusty wrench have appeared to save the day.

 

“Don’t just lay there!” Doriane shouts. “Get Kimi!”

 

Sergi doesn’t need telling twice. He takes the second chance at life that’s been granted to him and he gets to his feet, ignoring the way his whole body screams at him as he sprints away from the Hornet and back down the main straight. The Wasp steps back from the fight with Esteban for a moment, the Hornet’s peril serving as a distraction to him, which gives Esteban all the time he needs to kick the back of his knees and force him to the ground that way. He’s entirely in control of the situation over there, so Sergi can focus his attention on Pedro - the human - and on Kimi.

 

The Silver Spider is still fighting hard, with every ounce of strength he has in him, and Pedro looks exhausted. He’s been trying to keep Kimi at bay and disarm him without hurting him, but Kimi isn’t offering the same courtesy. His attacks are venomous and determined in nature, like he can’t even recognise that he’s fighting a friend, and he bares down on Pedro with a frightening force. It’s like killing him is his only objective. And Pedro, to his credit, has done an excellent job in keeping it together, but he can see fatigue kicking in. He needs to get to Kimi and fast, for both of their sakes. At least Kimi’s focus is entirely on Pedro, so when Sergi runs up behind him he’s totally unaware. It means there’s nothing he can do to stop Sergi from wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and pinning his arms to his chest. He shouts, and squirms, jabbing his elbows and stomping his feet, but nothing the Silver Spider can do has any impact on Sergi. 

 

“Get the antidote,” Sergi manages to command Pedro, who runs quickly back towards the garages. 

 

All Sergi has to do is keep his arms around the Silver Spider, and everything will be okay. They’re almost there. The worst is almost over. Kimi is almost home.

 

And then the sky is on fire.

 

Dozens of ‘bees’ explode above them, some dropping out of the sky before they detonate whilst others are set off where they fly. Sergi drops to the ground, pulling the Silver Spider with him, and he uses his own body as a shield. His suit isn’t quite as impressive as those made for Kimi over the last few months, but it’s enough that it keeps form. It doesn’t break, his skin doesn’t burn or blister, it protects him from the worst of the debris. He knows that his body will be littered with cuts and bruises, but that isn’t of any concern to him right now.

 

Nothing is, except for the boy beneath him.

 

Sergi doesn’t move until there’s other people with him. Doriane and Esteban are beside him, hands helping him up and aiding him in restraining the Silver Spider as they move him back toward the Mercedes garage. Everyone has evacuated now, fleeing the destruction and taking cover further away from the track. There, they can safely pull Kimi’s mask from his head and expose enough of his left shoulder that Pedro’s able to stick the syringe of antidote into him as soon as he rejoins them.

 

Everything changes in the blink of an eye, when Kimi’s resistance drops and instead of kicking and screaming and fighting to get away, he closes his eyes and stills. He’s still breathing, his chest rising and falling, but he’s fast asleep.

 

The silence is uncomfortable. After so much chaos, so much noise, it’s almost too quiet.

 

“Get changed,” Sergi tells the group around him, waving them away. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you for helping.”

 

It’s not enough - he’ll thank them properly later - but it’s all he has time for. Sure, Kimi’s had the antidote, but that doesn’t mean that his work is done. Besides, Doriane needs to rush to Austria, Pedro needs medical attention, and Esteban probably needs to go and listen to Ollie ranting and raving about his latest conspiracy theory.

 

He pulls the mask back over his face, just in case someone sees them, and he scoops the much more pliant Kimi into his arms with utmost care. Sergi doesn’t let himself think about anything as he carries him away, wandering through the eerily empty halls until they’re in hospitality, until they’re in Toto’s office, until the danger of being caught is completely passed.

 

When he does think, everything comes rushing in all at once.

 

The fact that Kimi feels feather light in his arms, far lighter than the last time he had to manhandle him. The fact that, when he removes the mask from his face again, his skin is almost paler than his own and the bags under his eyes are dark and heavy. The fact that, somehow, he has ten fingers again. As he places him on the sofa to rest, he thinks about everything that might’ve happened since Silverstone. He thinks about the things he did right, the things he did wrong, and the things he didn’t notice.

 

He thinks about the notes, still in his trouser pocket, that first told him that something was wrong. He wonders if Kimi will remember writing them or not.

 

Whilst Kimi sleeps, Sergi changes back into his own clothes, and then he resumes his position as Kimi’s loyal servant. For now that means tending to him carefully. It means peeling away his gloves to examine his hands, finding that he did, indeed, lose a finger. The pinky finger on his left hand, to be precise. But rather than the absence of a finger, removing the glove reveals a mechanical prosthetic in its place. The Hornet and the Wasp might not be the kindest of men, but he’s glad to see - in a twisted, roundabout way - that they realised Kimi would be more useful with all of his fingers.

 

Looking at him whilst he sleeps feels like a vice around his heart. He can’t help but run his fingers through his hair as he sits beside him and watches him breathe. Kimi has always looked small when he sleeps, but he notices it now more than ever. Whilst everything that the Hornet has made him do drips away, whilst his mind recovers from its ordeal, he looks even younger than he’s used to. Sergi is so absorbed in watching him rest that he doesn’t notice the door open - something he maybe should’ve been keeping a slightly keener eye on.

 

Toto walks into his office, which is, admittedly, not a real surprise. It is his office, after all. What’s more of a surprise is the fact that he’s not alone. Sergi isn’t sure where he expected them to take Kimi, but perhaps this was a crucial detail they should’ve worked out earlier. 

 

It means that someone else finds out about who Kimi is, and this time not through necessity. 

 

Bono’s mouth falls open and he lowers the flask of tea that he’s holding, processing things slowly. His eyebrows are as high as his hairline and slowly but surely lowering down as he slots things into place in his mind. Whatever Toto brought him here to discuss, it’s forgotten. Both men are staring at Kimi, with very different expressions on their faces.

 

“Alright,” Bono eventually says, almost a minute later, as he brings his free hand to his face and rubs his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “Was anyone planning on telling me?” 

 

“It wasn’t our place to tell you,” Toto tells him.

 

It’s a simple explanation, but it’s the one that fits the situation best.

 

“How long have you known?” Bono asks. “Because you’ve not just found out, or you’re taking this one Hell of a lot better than I am.”

 

“Since the start,” Sergi replies. “I made him tell Toto after Jeddah.” 

 

“Blimey, that was in April,” Bono scratches the back of his head. “God, no wonder he always looks like he’s going to fall asleep in briefings. I thought I was just boring him.” He takes a sip of his tea. “Is he dangerous?”

 

“Not anymore,” Toto offers. “There was an incident in Silverstone.”

 

“The Hornet kidnapped him,” Sergi elaborates. “Brainwashed him. He’s just had the antidote. He’ll be fine in…” He looks at Toto.

 

“When he wakes up. He just needs to sleep.”

 

Neither man says anything else, letting Bono digest the information at his own pace. So Sergi turns his attention back to Kimi, moving his hand from his hair to his cheeks. He feels cold. He’s still breathing, and he focuses on his nose and his lips for longer than he’d like to admit, just to be certain of that fact. Doriane reported being cold after she’d had her share of the antidote, so he reasons that it’s a side effect. Still, he gets to his feet and finds a jacket hanging by the door, going to drape it over Kimi’s body to keep him warm.

 

“He can stay here,” Toto assures. “As long as he needs.”

 

“I’ll stay with him,” Sergi agrees, only looking away from Kimi for a moment. “Will you call his family and let them know he’s alright?” 

 

Toto nods. And he takes the hint, too, that his office is now a private space for Kimi. So he takes his phone out of his pocket and walks out of the room, leaving only Sergi and Bono behind. Sergi doesn’t say another word, doesn’t feel like he needs to. Bono’s more than capable of asking questions if he wants to know anything else.

 

For a while, this means the engineer and the trainer sit in silence together, both of them with their eyes focused entirely on Kimi. Sergi’s sure, at some point, Bono will want to ask some questions, but for now they both seem content in observing the young man as he rests. Occasionally his eyelids and fingers twitch, and he lets out a quiet moan that sounds rather like a cry for help. Sergi just shushes him, strokes his hair, and lulls him back to a safer sleep.

 

“I don’t have to wear a suit like that any time soon, do I?” Bono eventually asks, his cold tea forgotten on the desk beside him.

 

“No,” Sergi assures him. “He’s safe, now.”

 

“You do a good job of that,” Bono says.

 

The praise catches Sergi off guard. It’s the last thing he’s expecting today. He ends up sitting a little straighter, shifting his focus from Kimi to Bono - though he never lets go of his hand.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You make a good hero,” Bono tells him, smiling ever so slightly. “Maybe the kid needs a sidekick, eh? You’d definitely rock a suit better than I could.”

 

If Sergi flushes a little, Bono doesn’t mention anything.

 

“I’m not so sure,” he counters. “Being a hero sounds like I’m going to save the world, and after today? I’ll leave that to someone else,” he chuckles. “Saving Kimi is all I’m cut out for.”

 

As they converse, there’s a flutter outside the window, a flash of feathers - purple and iridescent - as a small bird lands on the railing of the porch behind Toto’s desk. It’s almost glittering in the sunlight, turning its head curiously to look inside the office, before it flitters away as quickly as it arrived.

 

The room is quiet for another moment before there’s the sound of fabric moving against fabric, and Sergi realises that Kimi is finally regaining consciousness. He moves closer, a gentle hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place as he stirs. The last thing he wants to do is for him to exacerbate an existing injury. He needs a proper check up before Sergi takes his eyes off him for the evening.

 

“Hey, mate,” he says softly, squeezing his hand tight. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

 

Kimi blinks slowly, eyes readjusting to the light, and at first his expression is perplexed. His surroundings are confusing him, and for a brief moment Sergi feels a flash of terror that the antidote has taken more than just the serum from his mind. But, before too long, he seems to recognise things, to recognise people. There’s no anger in his eyes, no malice in his jaw, no hatred flaring his nostrils. There’s nothing to suggest that Kimi is still under the influence of the Hornet.

 

The antidote worked. 

 

Kimi is back with them. Disoriented, confused, and a little worse for wear, but back. 

 

“Sergi?” 

 

He feels like he could cry, just hearing his name spoken. It’s a quiet utterance, barely there and almost impossible to hear, his voice shaky and unsure of itself, but it’s another step in the right direction.

 

“It’s okay, mate,” he whispers. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

 

He seems to be in shock, but it’s been two months since he last had complete control of his own thoughts. A nap isn’t going to be an adequate recovery period for something this severe. Kimi closes his eyes again, yawning, and Sergi is more than happy to let him take some more time to rest. The fact that he’s woken up once already means he feels brave enough to leave him in the company of his race engineer, searching for some clothes for him to change into. It means that the next time he wakes up, Sergi is able to help him sit up slowly and get him into a team shirt and some jeans. Really, it’s just an excuse to be able to get his eyes on the rest of his body, to check for bruises, or cuts, or other injuries he’d really rather not have to think about.

 

By the time that evening rolls around, Kimi’s family are there too. Sergi knows that’s his cue to leave - Bono’s already gotten the message and left the moment that the door opened to reveal the Antonelli family - but he can’t bring himself to go straight away. He lingers at the back of the room as Veronica rushes forwards and envelopes her son in her arms, sobbing as she frets about whether or not her baby boy has come to any harm. Marco doesn’t even try to appear unaffected. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears and his cheeks are red. The only person that doesn’t seem entirely overjoyed by Kimi’s safe return is Maggie, who’s hanging back and holding her new and improved Bombo close to her chest. 

 

That, too, is understandable. Kimi’s memories of the last two months have proven to be foggy at best during the few wake windows he’s had so far, but he’s sure with time more and more will come back to him. And when he remembers what he did to his sister, what he did to her toy, he’ll be able to apologise for it. Sergi’s hand taps the top of her head lightly as he goes to leave, his fingers running through her hair too, and she stares up at him.

 

Her eyes make him feel rather uncomfortable.

 

Sergi pushes that from his mind, reasoning that he’s just tired. Kimi is home, that’s what matters. Everything is going to be okay now that Kimi is home.

 

Except he can’t help his thoughts drifting back to that moment on the tarmac. As he walks through the corridors and makes his way back to his own hotel, he wonders why Maggie ever left the safety of hospitality in the first place. He wonders why the Hornet was so keen to protect her, why he was so keen to speak to her briefly in the heat of battle. And he wonders if that toy has anything to do with it.

 

Sergi shakes his head. He’s overtired, he’s overthinking, and he’s making up conspiracy theories even Oliver Bearman would deny. 

 

But, he wonders, grabbing his bag from his locker and making his way out of the paddock, there must be a reason that Sebastian calls her Bumblebee. 

Notes:

A bit of a shorter chapter today... Still 13.5k! Fun fact, in the original draft the summer break, Zandvoort, and Monza were all one chapter, but I didn't have any action in Zandvoort originally. Doriane wasn't even in the first draft of this fic so her existence means so much more is happening!

Anyway, I'm sure you're all glad that we've got Kimi back now. Certainly nothing to worry about for the rest of the chapter :) No plot defining things were set in motion, it was all just good news saving Kimi! Yay! Make sure you leave comments and kudos, and I'll see you next week for what I'm sure will be another happy fun chapter!

Chapter 11: Issue 11: All Out of Luck

Milan, Italy
Friday 05 September 2025

 

Over the last few hours, the world beneath Kimi’s feet has shifted. The rug has been pulled out from under him, he’s tumbled into a different reality, and now everything feels different. He’s been fundamentally changed. 

 

He’s disoriented, that’s really the best way of putting it, but it feels like an understatement when it comes to explaining why his head feels the way that it does. It won’t stop spinning, the world feels foggy and difficult to move through, his shoulder aches, his finger aches (or the absence of it does)… Gradually, each time he wakes up he feels a little more lucid and aware of his surroundings, but that isn’t to say that he feels even close to himself.

 

The last time he woke up, the world had changed again. Instead of lying on a sofa in Toto’s office - Sergi, Bono, and Toto all staring down at him with watchful expressions - he’s on a soft bed. A hotel bed. He dares to shift, but the moment he moves his body an inch his vision is once again filled with people. This time it’s his parents crowding him, his mother’s hands cupping his cheeks as her lips cover his head with affectionate kisses, his father’s voice just a little distant and echoey in his mind. The longer he’s awake, the less abstract things feel. He sits completely upright and he looks around the room: Maggie is on the sofa, looking in every direction except for at Kimi; his mother hasn’t stopped touching him since he woke up; and the TV is playing footage of the day’s events.

 

Kimi stares almost unblinking at the screen, watching as shaky mobile footage from the grandstands is shown of three figures on the podium, drivers on their knees, and more fighting against them. He watches as aerial footage shows the Swarm, raining down on the track. He watches as the military show up, only to find that the Hornet and the Wasp are gone, and that the Silver Spider is nowhere to be found. No one saw him leave with them, but no one found him at the track.

 

Memories from the last few months are drip fed to him as his mind reorganises. The antidote has combatted the hold the serum had on him, but now it’s flushing it out of his system. He feels cold, and when he shivers his mother offers him a blanket and kisses the top of his head. With each memory that returns, he wants to push the blanket away and declare that he doesn’t deserve a thing. Guilt, grief, and self-loathing wash over him in waves. It’s not a tsunami, just a gentle sea lapping against the shore. Each memory gifted to him is another inch that the tide rises, pulled up by the moon, until it’s far beyond anything that could be explained away by high tide.

 

His family, of course, have no idea that he is the Silver Spider, so those emotions remain under lock and key as he stays in the loving embrace of his mother.

 

The fact that he can’t talk about it kills him, though. He knows the story Sergi told his family - his father regurgitated it to him over a room service dinner that he barely touched - and he knows that they have no suspicions whatsoever that he’s the Silver Spider. Kimi sticks to the script, even without a copy in front of him. Realistically, even if his family did know the truth, he’s not sure he’d be able to talk to them. Toto and Sergi know the truth, and the thought of even looking them in the eye fills his belly with an uncomfortable dread. 

 

Kimi knows what he needs right now. It isn’t his parents, it isn’t his team, it’s Ollie.

 

He stays with his family for hours, until they put Maggie to bed, before he dares to request to leave. They’ve practically waited on him hand and foot, tending to his every whim, making sure that he feels safe and loved, leaving too soon just feels rude. He knows that they’re doing everything in their power to make him feel comfortable, but he trusts that they understand he wants to see his friend, too.

 

Whether they do or don’t, there’s no resistance when he asks for his phone to text Ollie and ask for his room number, and neither of them stop him from leaving - they just slip him a key card so he can let himself in later when he’s ready. He’s not convinced that he’ll need it, but he doesn’t reject it, slipping it in his back pocket as he wanders the halls of the hotel in search of Ollie’s room. Whilst he walks, he feels his bones stiffen up. Every nook and cranny of him feels like it’s carrying something heavy. Something bad. 

 

Evil. He’s evil. It’s in his bones, the gap between his teeth, the space between the atoms that make up his very form. He’s a monster. He’s done monstrous things. There’s blood on his hands that he’ll never be able to wash away, crimes he’ll never be able to escape from. As he pushes himself forward, still walking, it crashes over him. His hands shake, his chest tightens, he wants to scream and cry and shout. He wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness from whatever God might be cruel enough to have done this to him. But he doesn’t. He does none of that. Instead, he clenches his hands into fists and digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palm.

 

And then, selfishly, he continues on his journey. He ignores the fact that he doesn’t deserve the softness of Ollie, that he doesn’t deserve affection, or reassurance, or warm arms that anchor him. He walks to the room number he’s been given and he knocks on the door, and he waits to hear someone shuffle around inside.

 

Ollie opens the door a crack at first, his eyes wet. It’s as if he won’t allow himself to trust what he’s seeing before him, and Kimi wonders what he’s done to him. Did he say something? Did he do something? If he’s hurt Ollie, then that’s something he’ll never be able to compartmentalise. The rest of the world can be boxed away and pushed down forever if he has to, but Ollie? 

 

“Kimi!” He finally gasps, throwing the door open wide as his arms draw him into an embrace.

 

And despite the knowledge that this gesture is entirely undeserved, he melts. He sinks into his firm chest, he allows strong arms to cradle him and pull him inside, and when he hears the lock click shut it’s like a cue for his tears to start to fall. He silently wets Ollie’s shirt at first, refusing to allow his hurt to be given a voice, but Ollie is rubbing circles against his back and he doesn’t need to cry aloud for his emotions to be understood.

 

“You’re shaking,” Ollie observes quietly. “Oh, Kimi, Sergi told me the Hornet was targeting you. I’m so sorry!”

 

At some point, Ollie’s words have transitioned from English into Kimi’s native Italian. It’s comforting, and a relief that he doesn’t have to think about trying to translate on top of everything else that’s already swallowing him whole. The thought alone, the fact that Ollie cares about him enough to make even this moment easier for him, is enough for him to choke on a muffled sob.

 

“Did… Oh shit, Kimi, he did get to you,” Ollie gasps. 

 

Kimi feels himself being moved deeper into the room, taken to the bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress. Ollie pulls back and reaches to take his hands, and he almost wants to pull away from the shame of it all. But he doesn’t, selfishly. He allows Ollie’s fingers to grab at him carefully, thumbs running over the backs of his hands and touching the mechanical prosthetic on the left that’s been bestowed upon him.

 

And all of a sudden he’s back in Hungary again, shaking hands and blurry vision as he’s biting his finger and trying to stitch the wound shut. He can taste smoke and blood on his tongue, he can hear screams ringing in his ears. He burns - everything burns - the world is bright and dark all at once and he cowers, trying to make himself as small as he can in front of Ollie. Whenever he blinks, he’s back there, and a part of him wonders if Ollie can see it too. If he can see the destruction he left in his wake, the people he killed, the things he was forced to do.

 

But Ollie remains gentle and careful, his fingers running over his knuckles with utmost care, and he speaks to him with a softness that he simply doesn’t deserve.

 

“Kimi, Kimi, it’s okay,” Ollie whispers, squeezing his hands tightly.

 

Through the peak of his anguish, Kimi forces himself to look at Ollie. He forces his eyes to stay open, forces himself to sniffle and breathe in through his nose, then out through his mouth. He forces himself to use Ollie as a way to ground himself in this world, because Ollie wasn’t with him in Hungary. Ollie was tucked up safely in his own hotel room. So if Ollie is here, then he can’t be in Hungary. And he can’t be in Belgium or the Netherlands either. It becomes gradually easier to hold his ground, to stop himself from slipping back into the half memories of the last two months, and after an undetermined amount of time passes, he manages to squeak out a few words.

 

“I need you to hold me.”

 

Ollie nods his head diligently, not protesting at all. He crouches down in front of Kimi and slips off his shoes, before moving to take his own off.

 

“Do you want to borrow some clothes?” He asks. “Jeans don’t seem very comfy.”

 

Really, he should say no. His parents are expecting him back, they’ve not gone on a proper date yet, and he’s hardly in any frame of mind to do anything, but he gets the feeling that Ollie isn’t going to be like that. This isn’t a way to pressure him into something that makes him uncomfortable, it’s a genuine offer to spend the night and get the comfort that he needs. He doesn’t want to leave Ollie, he doesn’t want to go back to his family and put on a mask and go to sleep alone, so he nods a little. 

 

“Please.”

 

Ollie gets back to his feet and scavenges in his suitcase, offering him some loose shorts and a t-shirt - the shirt of course being some of Ollie’s own merch - and he gets up to change quickly. After being teammates together for a year in Formula 2, the idea of modesty is lost on him, though he does turn around to face away from Ollie whilst he steps out of his jeans and underwear and switches into the shorts. They’ve spent so much time together in trucks, changing alongside each other with their elbows in each other’s ribs and sweaty clothes thrown into one messy pile, that it doesn’t phase either of them. Not until he takes his shirt off, shoulder aching as he raises his arm above his head, that Ollie reacts.

 

“Kimi,” he says softly, barely above a whisper.

 

Suddenly there’s a feather light touch brushing over his skin, as if Ollie is afraid to break him. Kimi jolts, not expecting the touch, and he turns around to look at Ollie. Which gives him a moment to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and then he understands Ollie’s quiet exclamation of his name.

 

There’s a small spot on his shoulder that’s intensely black, and his blood vessels are much darker than usual - much more pronounced - radiating out from that spot. It’s like staring at a Lichtenberg figure branching out until the darkness fades away. He raises one hand to brush over it, expecting it to hurt (or at least sting), but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. His shoulder aches, but it’s ached for hours now, it’s not aching because he’s touching it. He steps away from Ollie and closer to the mirror, leaning forwards over the hotel desk to get a proper look at it. Kimi follows his veins with his eyes, then traces them with his fingers, and finds himself asking the same question that Ollie does.

 

“What happened to you?” 

 

The worry in his voice does little to help him, but he forces his own fears to one side as he offers Ollie a smile. 

 

“It’s fine,” he promises, quickly pulling the t-shirt over his head to help them both forget about what’s there.

 

He can put on a brave face, he’s been doing that since Jeddah, it’s something he’s become very well acquainted with - and very good at doing. 

 

Ollie nods, but it’s clear to Kimi that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to shut the conversation down without answers but, frankly, Kimi doesn’t have any answers to give him. Ollie can be as insistent as he wants, it doesn’t change the fact that Kimi simply doesn’t know what this is. There’s no point in lingering on that now, he can ask Toto and Sergi tomorrow morning when he sees them, maybe they’ll know. Mercifully, Ollie changes the subject.

 

“We can order room service,” he says. “Gelato, if you want? I think they have a chocolate lava cake too.”

 

Kimi looks at him, a puzzled expression on his face.

 

“You’re racing tomorrow, no?” He asks.

 

He’s not sure if he is. The last few months have sort of thrown a spanner in the works. But Ollie shakes his head.

 

“Everything’s been cancelled,” Ollie explains, picking up the menu and perching on the edge of the bed. “George and Carlos are furious. Charles and Lewis were almost killed, the Hornet attacked during F3 Qualifying, the GPDA are refusing to race until there’s better protections in place for us and the feeder series.”

 

“Oh,” Kimi says, exhaling as he sits beside Ollie. 

 

He rests his head against Ollie’s shoulder, closing his eyes, not particularly caring about the idea of dessert even knowing that they won’t be racing any time soon. Certainly not before Baku. 

 

Ollie seems to get the message, putting the menu down and moving them both to lie down. Kimi’s heart is beating quickly in his chest as his head rests on a pillow, and when he opens his eyes to see Ollie lying beside him it only beats faster. Arms are wrapped around him carefully, and Ollie’s fingers find his hair to run through his curls and tug ever so slightly. 

 

He hasn’t brushed his teeth, but given the only toiletries in this room belong to Ollie he’ll just have to brush them twice in the morning - the idea of borrowing Ollie’s toothbrush is far too intimate for this stage of their budding relationship.

 

He hopes it’s still a budding relationship, anyway. He hopes that whatever has happened over the last few months, whatever is still happening to him, isn’t enough to scare him off. Ollie is looking at him lovingly and wrapping an arm around him, warming up his cold body with his touch, and it gives him hope that maybe - just maybe - he’ll still be allowed to have him.

 

“This is a one time deal, by the way,” Ollie whispers sweetly in his ear. “I love being the little spoon.”

 

Those words make Kimi giggle, and the tension and upset from before is washed away quickly. Ollie is exactly what he needed this evening, and he’s glad that he’s getting him for longer than that. Maybe he’ll have to explain a few things to his parents over breakfast, but it’s worth it. It’s worth it for the first full night of sleep in months, it’s worth it to keep his nightmares at bay, and it’s worth it just to be held by Oliver Bearman.

 

+ + +

 

Milan, Italy
Saturday 06 September 2025

 

A race weekend without a race is a uniquely strange experience. Once he’s woken up he has to promptly say goodbye to Ollie and make his way back to the suite his family are staying in, showering (as much as he can without breaking down), and changing into some fresh clothes (the shirt Ollie gave him subtly tucked into his bag) before going for breakfast. Not having to think about nutrition, or calories, or slow releasing energy is odd. He can just eat whatever he chooses. So he lets himself have pastries with sugar and chocolate and a plate filled with cooked meats and cheeses. Fruit, too, of course. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he’s not sure he’s ever been so hungry in his life. 

 

His parents, understandably, want him to come home with them, but Kimi has far too many questions to leave just yet. He needs to speak to his team. Maybe once he’s gotten his answers, he’ll make a trip back to Bologna for a few days, but it feels more than likely he’ll just be back in Brackley trying to fix everything.

 

Maggie still hasn’t spoken to him, and as much as he understands that he probably deserves it - the memory of what happened to Bombo the First coming back to him whilst he was walking back from Ollie’s room - it still hurts. He doesn’t know how to apologise to her without explaining what’s going on, and he knows how to explain what’s going on to her even less than he knows how to explain it to his parents. And Kimi has no idea how to explain it to his parents.

 

The fact that she won’t even look at him makes breakfast a somewhat awkward affair, but they somehow survive it, and then it’s just a case of waiting until he’s spent enough time with his family to leave them once again.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around them - after so long with the Hornet and the Wasp, he does - it’s just that being around them is… Difficult. There’s so much bubbling beneath the surface, so much that he wants to feel and say, but he can’t talk about it with them. He needs to be with his team, with the people that understand, and by the time he makes it to the track - hauntingly desolate after the attack that took place yesterday - Kimi is relieved to be back in a place where he feels like he has some level of control. The paddock is routine, it’s structure, it’s everything he needs right now. Especially when he makes it to the Mercedes garage and lays his eyes on his trainer.

 

Sergi looks tired. There are bags under his eyes and bruises on his body. Kimi wonders if he’s responsible for the bruises - he doesn’t have to question that he’s responsible for the eye bags - and more uncertain guilt washes over him. The worst part about his memories of the last two months coming back to him slowly is that he doesn’t know the true extent of everything he’s done. He’s sure he could Google it, but the thought of being presented with everything at once…

 

“Come on,” Sergi encourages quietly.

 

Kimi falls into step behind him without question, but Sergi lets him catch up and puts an arm around his shoulders. The sensation shocks him a bit, it’s really the last thing he was expecting, but he tries not to jolt too much.

 

After journeying through the maze of Mercedes hospitality, he’s taken to Toto’s office - which doesn’t surprise him at all. Toto is sitting behind his desk, and Bono is pacing the room with his phone as he shoots off a text message, but when the door opens all eyes are on him. Kimi gulps, totally unable to read the tone, and behind him Sergi locks the door. It means no one can get in and overhear them, sure, but it also means that he can’t get out. 

 

No one says anything, and that just makes Kimi uncomfortable. He breaks the silence by stepping forwards and sitting down on the small couch. The sound of fabric moving is the only thing around him, other than a small desk fan blowing air around the office. Everything feels awkward, and stilted, and Kimi hates it. He can’t help but clench his fists again, digging his nails into his palms.

 

“Hi,” he says softly, looking between the three men. “Have I… Done something?”

 

“Is that a serious question?” Sergi asks, deeply concerned without a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

 

“I’m piecing things together,” he replies. “Slowly. I don’t think I remember everything just yet. I know I did a… A lot.” 

 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Toto says, standing up from behind his desk. 

 

“I’m sorry it took us so long to help you,” Sergi apologises. “I found the notes in Silverstone, I should’ve known then. But it took weeks to confirm the theory, and then it took summer break to get equipment made and recruit a team.”

 

“We knew for certain when you threw Pedro out the window,” Toto adds.

 

Bono looks up at that. He looks more lost than Kimi does, and that makes him puzzle. He thought, since Bono was here, that he knew everything. He was there when he woke up yesterday, so surely he was involved in the rescue. Surely he’s in on the plan. But if he isn’t, if he doesn’t know everything, then maybe his secret is still a secret. Maybe only a handful of people know. It feels like a weight off his shoulders.

 

What doesn’t feel like a weight off his shoulders is the knowledge that he threw Pedro out the window. His heart aches.

 

“Is he okay?”

 

“He was badly damaged,” Toto admits, opening up a drawer behind his desk. “He’d lost his legs and been thrown from the fifth floor. He took a knock.”

 

Kimi looks even more upset with that revelation, but Toto keeps talking.

 

“Sergi found him in the grass,” he explains. “We rebuilt him. He’s had a bit of an upgrade too.”

 

To prove his point, Toto places the robot on his desk and turns him on, and Kimi watches as he comes to life. His face is bright and animated, his body practically buzzing with excitement. Bono’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline, but Kimi just gasps with joy.

 

“Pedro!”

 

Beaming, he gets to his feet and bounds towards the desk, crouching down in front of it so he’s eye level with the little spider. He takes in all of his new features, and dares to reach out with a hand to brush one finger over his sleek new body.

 

“You look so handsome, eh?”

 

If a robot spider could blush, Pedro certainly finds a way to communicate it.

 

“Pedro thanks the Silver Spider for his compliment! Pedro is glad to see the Silver Spider has returned to his usual self. Pedro has missed his friend dearly.”

 

Kimi smiles, his eyes a little misty. 

 

“I missed you too, mate,” he whispers softly.

 

He holds out his hands and notices Pedro considering whether or not to trust him for a brief moment, and he won’t pretend that it doesn't hurt. But he does eventually take the step into his hand, and Kimi places him carefully on his shoulder. Having his friend back with him feels natural, it feels right. 

 

“We need to talk about a plan going forward,” Toto tells the room, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

 

They’re back to serious conversations again - he supposes it can’t all be Pedro - so he goes to sit back down on the sofa. Bono joins him, Sergi taking a seat by the desk, and Toto sits himself back down behind his desk. They’re all equals here.

 

“You’ve seen how the Hornet and the Wasp operate, we need to know everything. There’s a full-time team back at the factory now. They’ve signed NDAs. They’re capable and focused. Everything you can tell us will help them to design and create the weapons and defenses you need to take them on.”

 

Kimi inhales sharply and nods.

 

“I can do that,” he agrees. “It’s all coming back slowly but… Maybe I can start now and give you a list in Baku, eh?”

 

Bono leans over the side of the sofa and grabs an empty notebook and a pen, before twisting around to hand it to Kimi. He mutters a thank you in Italian and looks down, fingers absent-mindedly playing with the pen in his hand. It’s only been a day since he was rescued - less than, really - but he can’t wait for the guilt to fade. He knows that will take time. Once he’s remembered everything, he’s going to need to push it all down until he doesn’t feel anything anymore. That could take some effort.

 

“Do you want to talk about anything, Kimi?” Sergi asks him gently. “We don’t blame you for anything that happened. We understand that it wasn’t you.”

 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” he says quickly.

 

When he was with his parents, he thought he wanted to be with his team so he could talk. But now that he’s here, and there’s an opportunity to talk, he realises that’s the last thing he wants. The idea of talking sends a shiver down his spine, it feels dreadfully uncomfortable, and Kimi can’t think of anything worse. He gets to his feet, holding the notebook close to his chest and tucking the pen into his pocket.

 

“I’ll write things down and give it to you in Baku, Toto,” he confirms. 

 

Once he’s standing he moves quickly, not wanting to linger and give Sergi another opportunity to try and pry more deeply. Instead he just unlocks the door to the office and slips out, closing the door behind him once more and exhaling in the relief that comes with being alone.

 

“Pedro recommends that the Silver Spider speak to a friend about how he feels.”

 

Kimi sighs, shaking his head as he composes himself and starts to wander out of the main hospitality unit. His driver room in the motorhome is probably the best place to go for some peace and quiet.

 

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” he assures the little robot. “I’m fine. I just need to get it all down on paper. It’s been a long two months, eh? My head… It’s all scrambled up. But I’m fine.” 

 

As he approaches the driver rooms, he’s surprised to find that George is present. He’d have expected him to be doing something else - maybe campaigning to the FIA or checking in on Charles and Lewis after yesterday’s attack - but instead he’s here. Kimi falls silent as he walks, and tries to make his steps as light and quiet as possible. It means he’s entirely unnoticed until he’s already in close proximity to his teammate, and when George looks up and spots him he jumps. He recoils.

 

It’s like a knife in his stomach. The Hornet’s control of him over the last two months has been so complete that he’s ruined the tentative friendship he had with his own teammate.

 

“Kimi, hi,” George says, staccato and formal in a way that only adds to the slow burning fire of guilt inside of him.

 

“Ciao, George,” he says.

 

A glance to the side confirms that Pedro has disappeared from his shoulder, and Kimi feels his absence sorely. He could really do with a bit of emotional support right now, even if he keeps insisting that he’s fine.

 

“Are you alright?” He asks, and Kimi tilts his head.

 

“Eh?”

 

“I’ve not seen you in weeks, since Hungary. Sergi said you had a hand injury and… Gordon Bennett!” he gasps.

 

George’s eyes have trailed down to Kimi’s hand, and he tucks it into his pocket far too late. The damage has already been done. George has already seen his new finger. The next words out of his mouth are a little bit more controlled, as if he’s trying not to make things worse by being shocked.

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

Kimi’s heart only sinks further. Despite the fact that George is obviously afraid of him, he’s still worried. He doesn’t deserve his concern.

 

“I’m sorry,” he replies softly instead. “For being such a dick the last few months.”

 

“Mate, you’re down a finger, I think you’re allowed to be a bit blunt when you’re going through something like that. How did it happen?”

 

Kimi winces, and George realises he probably shouldn’t have said that.

 

“Sorry, it’s none of my business,” he apologises quickly. “What I mean is, you don’t have to apologise for anything. You were going through something, I didn’t notice… How I didn’t notice a missing finger I’ve got no idea,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve been such an unsympathetic teammate.”

 

Kimi shakes his head, holding the notebook tightly to his chest to try and distract himself from everything he can feel. It would be really, really nice if he could just stop feeling things for a little while. 

 

“You’re a brilliant teammate, George,” Kimi assures him. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I need to do something for Toto.”

 

“Right, of course,” George nods. “You’re busy. But, look, if there’s anything I can do to–”

 

“I know,” Kimi gives him a weak smile, side stepping towards his room.

 

He’d really like this conversation to come to an end before he says something drastic, something truthful. The truth is something to be caged up and locked away, far from George’s prying, caring eyes.

 

“Thanks. And, I’m sorry. Again. For being a dick.”

 

He stumbles over his words and tries to sneak away, he feels something dropping onto his shoulder. Pedro. He’s quick to step into his room and he shuts the door hastily behind him before George can see his robot friend and ask any questions. It seems that he really doesn’t know anything right now, and he’d like to keep things that way. The less people that know the truth, the better.

 

Kimi sinks down into his chair and stretches out his fingers, ignoring the ache in his shoulder as he prepares to write down everything that he can remember. There’s a lot that’s happened in the last two months - whether he knows it or not - and Toto needs to know everything if he’s going to be able to help. He gets to work, and becomes so absorbed by the task that he doesn’t so much as notice the passage of time. It isn’t until there’s a knock at the door that pulls him out of his own brain that he even remembers to blink or breathe. It feels like his whole body comes off autopilot as he turns around, as Pedro scuttles behind his bag to hide, and he gets up to answer the door. 

 

Maybe George is back to talk to him again, maybe Bono is here with questions. When he opens the door, he realises there was only one person he should’ve expected it to be all along.

 

“Can I come in?” Toto asks.

 

Kimi nods his head, standing back to allow his boss into the room. He taps his fingers anxiously against the door as Toto comes inside, closing it behind him and taking a deep breath before he’s ready to face the music. He can’t imagine this is going to be good. He’s missed races, he’s destroyed team morale, he’s taken people off the development of the 2026 car for the sole purpose of his needs… Maybe he’s going to be fired. Maybe Valtteri will be taking over for the rest of the season. Maybe–

 

Toto’s arms wrap around him, the embrace firm and tight. It shuts Kimi’s mind up in an instant and suddenly all he feels is… Warmth. He sinks into the gesture, burrows his head against Toto’s chest as he searches for the comfort that’s being offered to him. Maybe he won’t have that forever, maybe there will be a difficult conversation at the end of this gesture, but as hard as he’s trying to convince the world that he’s fine and that he doesn’t need to talk about things, he needs this hug.

 

“You’re safe now, kid,” Toto mutters against the top of his head, and Kimi feels the lightest of kisses pressed against his hair.

 

Toto has always been an extension of his family, and he’s exactly what he needs right now. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Kimi whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut to keep tears from falling.

 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t find you earlier, I’m sorry you weren’t always safe. It’s my duty to keep you safe.”

 

Kimi doesn’t say anything else, just leans into the embrace further as Toto rubs his hands up and down his arms and anchors him. The embrace is desperate and tight, and whenever Toto squeezes him it just crosses over the threshold of too tight, but the pain is good. With memories still coming back to him, piecemeal fashion, it’s easy to get caught up in the past: he’s found himself drifting back there several times already. But with Toto here, with his arms around him - even when that hold becomes too much and makes his already aching body sore - he feels tethered to reality. He’s safe now, the Hornet doesn’t have any control over him anymore, and Kimi can finally - finally - breathe easy. 

 

It’s a feeling that he knows can’t last forever. But right now, he’ll take it.

 

+ + +

 

Baku, Azerbaijan
Sunday 21 September 2025

 

Kimi’s first race weekend back behind the wheel has, surprisingly, gone off without a hitch. Thanks in no small part to the GPDA, whose demands have seen security quadrupled. There’s armed guards in every garage, teams have been able to request personal security for their drivers, and there’s been additional checks in place for fans and team personnel alike. Even the airspace has been covered. Flights have been diverted and the only vehicles cleared to fly have been for surveillance or emergencies. Every possible precaution has been taken, and it seems to have worked. All weekend Kimi has felt safe, even when he’s been terrified that the Hornet might return and try to steal him away again. 

 

But Toto’s been true to his word, he’s kept Kimi and the rest of his family safe in the break between Monza and Baku. When he’s been in Brackley he’s stayed with Toto, and when he’s been home with his family Mercedes have paid for guards to stand watch outside his house constantly.

 

Everything has built slowly over the last few days. On Thursday he was the subject of media scrutiny - which is never a nice feeling - but at least being at the press conference meant that there was a moderator on hand to keep journalists well behaved. His hand, naturally, is the object of their desire, but Kimi’s stuck to his lines well. An operation after one too many crashes, an unexpected side effect, the best technology available, no impact on his racing. Then came Friday, and in the Practice sessions he kept everything clean and set good times, sticking with George. With questions about his condition put to rest, Qualifying and the Race passed with little comment.

 

So after a race weekend where no one has had to worry about safety, where everyone has been secure and well looked after, it’s even more impressive that Kimi’s return to the track has come with a podium finish. He knows he shouldn’t be disappointed, because he’s had several weeks off, he’s come back with a mechanical finger and more injuries than he can shake a stick at, but he wouldn’t be a racing driver if he liked to come home behind his teammate. Another win has taken Oscar a step closer to his first World Championship, but a podium for George keeps him mathematically in the running for another week - and it keeps the team in the hunt for the Constructors Championship too.

 

Kimi feels more exhausted than usual after the race. He’s glad that he’s had time off between the events of Monza and now, and he’s glad that there’s going to be another gap before Singapore to give him the opportunity to recover from this. Sergi’s physiotherapy in the interim has been extensive, wanting to make sure that he’s as physically fit as possible for racing given his missing finger and the countless other minor injuries that have needed time to heal to get him back to full strength.

 

And then, there’s his shoulder.

 

He’s concealed the discolouration of his veins from everyone around him, which has been tricky but not impossible. He’s insisted on keeping his shirt on whenever he’s exercised, convincing the team that he’s just insecure about his appearance after what happened with the Hornet, but it’s getting harder for that lie to work. Not because they want him to be undressing in front of them (though the social media team is very keen on an ice bath video for Singapore), but because it’s spreading.

 

Not very quickly, from day to day he doesn’t notice anything, but enough since Monza that he’s started to pick up on it. He looks at it every morning and every evening when he showers, tracing the darkness with his fingers. It’s creeping onto his chest now, and it’s extended beyond his elbow on his arm. Every day there’s just a little bit more.

 

It doesn’t hurt. None of his abilities have changed. So he’s choosing not to worry about it, and he’s choosing not to worry other people about it by not telling them. 

 

After the race, the cooldown, the press conference, and the team debrief, Kimi is chatting idly with George. He’s trying his hardest to try and rebuild that fragile friendship they’d formed over the first half of the season and it does seem to slowly be coming back to him. George is keen on celebrating their joint podium with a night out. It’ll be good for the team to relax, it’ll be good for them to be there, it’ll be good for everyone now that they don’t need to worry about the Hornet or the Wasp anymore. Kimi has no interest in joining them though, he wants to collapse into bed and sleep for a few days to recuperate from the effort the racing through the narrow streets of Baku has on his body and mind.

 

“I’ll put my card behind the bar,” George tells him. “You won’t even have to pay for your own drinks, mate.”

 

George is making such a concerted effort to be a good teammate that Kimi knows he can’t just reject him over and over again. If his guilt is the presiding factor in how he does things, then he’ll never do anything fun again, and George will just feel like he isn’t doing a good enough job.

 

“Alright,” he agrees, even though he’d really rather not. “But I need to go back to the hotel and change first, eh? Have a proper shower. If you text me where you’re going…”

 

He trails off, not because he thinks that the end of the sentence is implied, or because he’s forgotten the translation of the words from Italian to English, but because he feels something.

 

A tingle in his wrist.

 

No. No, no, no. There’s security, the Hornet and the Wasp can’t be here. It’s not a real feeling, it’s a phantom sensation, he’s just anxious and looking for a way to get out of going to a club. The dread knotting in his stomach is just the placebo effect in play. Nothing is happening. Kimi looks up at the sky and sees nothing that would confirm if there really is something bad happening, so it has to be fake. It has to be fake.

 

But it’s never been fake before. He’s never felt this and then not had to do something heroic in the aftermath.

 

Kimi realises that George is still talking to him, offering him a few choices of where they could go, but Kimi knows he has to leave. He has to make it back to his hotel and he has to trust his instincts. He can’t imagine how many people will die if he doesn’t. And his memories have come back to him now, he has enough blood on his hands. 

 

“I have to go,” he declares urgently, trying to think of some kind of excuse when George looks perplexed by the suddenness of his words. “My spider needs me!”

 

Well, that’s not the best answer he could’ve given, but he’s already running off before George’s curious expression can turn into any questions.

 

Kimi runs as quickly as he can. With the race over, the paddock is full of people packing down as quickly as possible, so retreating to hospitality or his driver room to change isn’t an option. There are too many people here, it would be impossible to keep his identity a secret. Which means he has to squeeze out of the turnstiles - no time to take his pass out of his bag to scan out - and he has to run almost the length of the city. He takes the path alongside the edge of the Caspian Sea, thankfully much quieter than the jam packed road that’s gridlocked beside him, towards the Marriott hotel that the whole team is staying in. 

 

His room, of course, is on the top floor. Kimi doesn’t have the time to wait for an elevator, so he just throws himself up the stairs two at a time and scrambles to take his key card out of his bag as he ascends. By the time he’s in his room he’s throwing his bag to the side and stripping off his clothes before the door has even closed behind him. A familiar voice breaks through the chaos of Kimi trying to change into his suit - still the black and purple, since the grey, silver and teal has been repurposed for Doriane’s use.

 

“Silver Spider! Pedro must inform you that the Hornet is–”

 

“I know, Pedro!” Kimi says quickly, cutting him off as he sits on the edge of the bed and sinks his feet into his boots. “I got here as quickly as I could. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

 

“But, Silver Spider–!”

 

“You stay here,” he says, tugging his mask over his head.

 

The last thing he needs to do before leaving is to find his charms and give them a squeeze, for good luck. Except when he searches for them, they’re nowhere to be found. And one final memory comes crashing back.

 

The charms are in Hungary, or at least whatever is left of them - if anything - is. The fact that he can’t hold onto them makes his heart beat faster in his chest and suddenly he feels anxious. He’s already done enough damage under the control of the serum, but now he doesn’t even have his good luck charms. He’s got no idea if he’s even capable of being a hero without them. But he has to try, doesn’t he? Standing around, panicking and searching for them is only going to make things worse.

 

Everything he does just makes things worse!

 

Kimi forces himself to take a breath and focuses once more on the task at hand. He tucks his mask into his suit and opens up the balcony door, making sure it stays open so he can return easily, before he throws himself off the edge. 

 

For a brief moment, Kimi relishes the feeling of free falling through the air. The way that gravity pulls him down is certain and true, the feeling of the wind rushing over his suit is like a familiar hold, and for a second he wants to stay like that forever. But the thing about falling is that if you fall forever, you meet a rather unpleasant end, and so Kimi’s hand is forced. He holds an arm out and shoots out a web, anchoring onto a moving truck to give himself momentum so that when he swings up, he swings forward too. He’s lost enough time searching in vain for those long lost good luck charms, he needs to make up as much as he can.

 

His rhythm is disrupted by the distinct lack of buildings along the seafront, so Kimi has to land and keep running. Little remains of the grandstands and the paddock, deconstruction work already in progress as the roads are reopened to the public. Kimi ignores everything going on around him, he pushes past the crowds of people as he stares up at the sky, and he watches as disaster unfolds. 

 

Security has already been dialled down now that the race has come to an end - the FIA weren’t planning on paying them any longer than they needed to - which has provided a golden opportunity for the Hornet and the Wasp, and they know it. They’ve waited just long enough that the remaining forces aren’t enough to stop them, and now, as Kimi gets to a part of the city dense enough that he can resume swinging between buildings - the Swarm fills the sky. It’s cloudless and intensely blue, except for where the shadow of the Swarm is flying between helicopters, forcing them onto a different flight path. Any attempt to deviate from where they want the helicopters to fly results in the blades of the rotors colliding with the little exploding robots, which isn’t exactly conducive to keeping the helicopters in the air. The one that tried to escape loses altitude fast, and the rest follow the Swarm obediently.

 

As fast as Kimi can go, the helicopters are undeniably faster, and that means that Kimi doesn’t have a chance of catching up with them. 

 

The first helicopter, the one with the pilot that had dared to disobey the Hornet, comes down in the middle of the city with a ball of fire and smoke that plumes up into the sky like a volcano opening up its mouth and releasing ash and lava. Kimi can feel the way the ground shakes from the impact, the building his web is anchored to rocking back and forth. But Kimi… Kimi can’t stop to help. He can’t stop and help because that’s only one helicopter, and several are still flying, all in the same direction, towards the Flame Towers that glisten in the early evening sun. 

 

People on the ground are, understandably, focused on the disaster that’s already taken place. Emergency services are already on route to the site of the accident. Kimi feels confident that he’s made the right decision in not stopping to help, even if it crushes him that he has to decide in the first place. Kimi swings with urgency, pulling himself forward faster until his shoulders are throbbing with exhaustion, but it makes little difference in the end. Even if he could catch up to the helicopters, how could he possibly expect to stop the Hornet from executing his plan? He doubts he could distract enough of the Swarm that the vehicles could get free, which means this was only ever going to go one way - he was only ever going to be able to watch helplessly as they collided, one after another after another, with the Flame Towers.

 

“No!” Kimi screams behind his mask. “No, no, no!” 

 

He repeats the word over and over as he watches the apocalyptic scene unfold. Day turns to night as the sun is blocked from view, with smoke climbing higher and higher into the atmosphere. Cinders and debris fall over the city like a pyroclastic flow and the only source of light beneath the blanket of ash is the inferno that used to be the Flame Towers. The entire city basks under an ominous orange glow, and the hopelessness of the situation really begins to dawn on Kimi. 

 

If only he’d found his good luck charms, he could’ve done something about it all. Instead, he’s spluttering behind his mask, the air so thick with irritating particles that even his suit can’t filter out everything. 

 

The streets below are filled with sirens that harmonise with the cries and wails of people. Those that are afraid, those that know people in the offices, shops, and hotels that make up the Flame Tower complex. It’s not too late to do something, it can’t be. Kimi has to be able to save someone. He can go straight to the higher floors and pull people from the wreckage, he can take them to safety. He can still be useful, he can still do what a superhero is meant to do. 

 

The minutes that it takes for Kimi to make it from the promenade to the towers are already too long, and a huge area below has already been cordoned off. Fire engines are trying desperately to extinguish the flames, ambulances are on hand to treat those that have managed to escape for burns and smoke inhalation, and the police are working hard to keep order. A large crowd has gathered at the edge of the exclusion zone, begging for information, or to get past so they can run in and find a loved one. Kimi wastes no time in swinging over their heads, looking for somewhere that he can make a difference. Helicopters in the sides of the buildings have provided unconventional entrances, but by virtue of the fact that they’ve crashed there it’s pointless to enter there. Anyone that was there is almost certainly dead. 

 

If he wants to make a difference, he has to be smart. He has to find floors that haven’t been directly damaged by the crash and he has to help those people to safety. 

 

Kimi decides the best place to start is two floors down from the lowest helicopter. From the tops of the apartments opposite he can shoot out his web and anchor himself to the building, taking a breath before he jumps off the edge and swings - feet first - into the glass windows. His boots are heavy enough that he can shatter his way in, and as he cuts his ropes he rolls through glass and flames to come to a stop in the middle of an empty, open plan office.

 

It’s dark and hazy, the smoke playing havoc with the cameras in his mask, but Kimi is far too determined to let that make any difference. He has to do this, to prove to himself - and to the world - that he’s still capable of being good. As he staggers to his feet he calls out desperately, praying that there’s still people alive to hear him - that he isn’t too late.

 

“Hello?!” 

 

His voice is drowned out by the roar of flames, by the drone of the fire alarm that’s loud enough to make even his ears ring. Everything is stacked against him, and finding survivors in this mess is going to be damn near impossible. But that isn’t a reason to give up, so he starts to move, making his way through the office space to search high and low. He checks under every desk, he opens every meeting room door, every nook and cranny is examined for signs of life. Finding nothing is, somehow, a relief. Of course he wants to find people that are alive, but if he finds nothing then it means people have escaped. The floor is completely and utterly abandoned, and his heart soars - hundreds of people have managed to evacuate. Even if he was too late to stop this, people are still alive! 

 

Still, Kimi knows he can’t just stop because one floor is empty. There are dozens, across three towers, and if he’s going to make himself useful he needs to move fast. So he keeps shouting out as he runs into a stairwell, the fire alarm echoing against the walls. Leaning over the bannister and looking up and down would normally be enough to make his head spin from the vertigo, but instead he sees nothing. Everything is thick with smoke. If people are still alive, they’ll be further down. Anyone on the floors above will have choked on ash by now, powder turning their lungs to cement with every breath. Or maybe they’ll have burned alive, screaming as their flesh melted from their bones.

 

He shakes the thought from his head and starts to run downstairs, he tries to focus on how good he felt just a few moments ago in the absence of people in the office, and he lets that flicker of hope carry him forward. Taking the steps two at a time without really being able to see them, it’s little wonder that Kimi eventually stumbles. He catches himself quickly before he falls, and he crouches down to get a better look at why he’s tripped.

 

An arm.

 

His eyes widen and he feels himself jumping back. It’s not an arm, it’s a body, a whole body, a whole person. It’s horrifyingly obvious that this person isn’t unconscious, that they’ve instead suffered a tragic and painful death. Their flesh has melded with the fibres of their clothing, and everything about them is charred and black, still smouldering from the latent heat. Their hair is entirely gone, burned away without a trace. A misshaped and melted handbag is beside them, and Kimi throws what’s left of his morals away to reach inside. On balance, the guilt of another innocent person dying weighs on him more heavily than looking through their bag, and at least this way he can feel a sense of closure, he can give them the respect that they deserve in their death. At the very least he wants to know their name. 

 

Pulling out a wallet, he finds an ID card tucked away, deep enough in the bag that the heat hasn’t melted it entirely. Their name was Hazel. They were young, the driving licence difficult to read but he’s fairly certain that their birth year starts with a 2. There’s a metal bookmark that’s impossibly hot to the touch, a locket, and a punnet of blackcurrants, melted almost into a jam. Somehow, despite the odds, their phone has survived too. Not only has it survived, but it’s ringing.  

 

The screen is badly damaged, and Kimi can’t see the full contact name or photo, but he can see enough. Marcell. 

 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Kimi whispers brokenly.

 

He puts the ID card back into the wallet, and the wallet back into the bag, trying to leave everything exactly as he found it. He can’t stomach the idea of answering that call, of telling Marcell what’s happened to his friend. Maybe he’s calling innocently, or maybe he’s somewhere in the city and knows that Hazel is here, maybe he’s calling out of desperation that they might answer and he might get some good news. He’s too weak to tell him the truth, and he’s too weak to look away from Hazel as he slowly backs away from their body.

 

When he stumbles again, Kimi doesn’t bother to catch himself. He’s already accepted his fate as he falls - his fate being that he’s tripped over yet another body - and his stomach lurches inside him. This isn’t how it’s meant to go. He’s supposed to be saving people!

 

Kimi manages to take a breath, the stench of death so thick in the air that he can taste it, and he pushes against the ground to help himself back up. But he doesn’t push against the ground, he pushes against a hand. A hand so dreadfully burned that when he presses against it, what’s left of it disintegrates into dust that’s carried in an updraft towards the top of the building.

 

As Kimi watches, his head tilted back, he comes to a dreadful realisation. The floors above him are empty not because people managed to escape, but because they tried to escape. Because they tried to descend but were caught by the fast spreading blaze, forced to perish slowly and painfully in a crowd of strangers. Some people would’ve been running up, some would’ve run down, and they would’ve come together in a crush, a stampede, where nothing could be done. 

 

They’re dead because of him. Because he wasn’t fast enough to save them.

 

He’s back in Liège, back in the train station, surrounded by fire and hundreds dead by his hand. He’s done it again. Kimi squeezes his hands into tight fists by his side to remind himself of the present, and he does the only thing he can do - the one thing that all these bodies tried to do - he runs. He gets to his feet and runs as fast as he can, to the nearest exit from the stairwell. He bolts straight through another office - a mirror image of the floor above - and angles his body so his shoulder hits the glass first. 

 

Momentum carries him forward and he barely even registers that there’s nothing solid beneath him anymore. He’s falling, and he keeps falling, and a part of his mind just wants to keep falling until the ground beneath him catches his body and his bones shatter. But survival instinct overrules those dark impulses and he shoots out a web, forcing himself to keep going through the city. He swings in a way that makes his whole body hurt, fighting between the rational side of his mind that’s taking him home and the part of him that doesn’t think he deserves to make it back. Two months ago he could’ve saved those people, but now they’re dead. He’s supposed to be fixing things, redeeming himself in the eyes of the world after the Hornet controlled his mind and made him commit unspeakable acts of violence. Instead, he’s just making things worse. 

 

Kimi isn’t aware of his progress through the city at all. In fact, he isn’t aware of anything. He just blinks, and suddenly he’s back in his hotel room, his mask removed, hands pressed against the desk as he doubles over and pants for air. He can see his reflection in the mirror, skin slick with sweat and eyes more gaunt looking than ever. His whole body trembles, and every breath he takes makes him feel more and more uncomfortable. Bile fills his mouth and he swallows it back down, feeling the burn in his oesophagus and focusing on it. He deserves that burn, that pain. He craves more.

 

He peels off his gloves and makes his hands into fists again, nails pressing against his palm hard enough that he manages to draw blood. He did this, he did this, he did this.

 

A sob escapes him and he wants to plunge his hands into his ribcage and pull out his lungs. People are dead because of him and he thinks he has the right to cry? This isn’t about him! He is a monster, and even now when he’s doing everything in his power to not be a monster, he can’t help but watch as people slip through his fingers. 

 

“Silver Spider, you appear unwell! Should Pedro contact friend Sergi, or friend Bono?” 

 

Kimi lets his head droop again and stares down at the desk, sniffling and shaking his head.

 

“No, Pedro,” he mutters weakly, his voice cracking. 

 

He isn’t sure what compels him to reach for his phone - it’s never a good idea to do something like that - but he does. He sees the messages from George, telling him what club they’re going to, and the panicked follow ups warning him to go back to his hotel and stay safe. There’s messages from Esteban asking what’s happened, with photos attached of him swinging through the city. Sergi mentioned that Esteban had helped out in Monza, but he didn’t realise that meant he knew. There’s more messages too, from his family, from Ollie, from Pedro - the human - and from the various group chats that he’s in. Kimi somehow manages to send cursory responses to most of them, to save them from their worry, though he doesn’t say anything in the group chats. How can he do that? The most recent messages in the rookie group chat are beyond his understanding.

 

[🧸♥️] this is just like l’manberg guys

[🦘] Ollie what the actual fuck are you talking about?

 

His thumbs hover over the Instagram app, but he decides against it. He hates himself enough as it is, he doesn’t need to see the dogpile from the rest of the world.

 

He thinks about going next door, about finding his parents and trying to crawl into bed between them like he’s a little boy again, desperate for the comfort of his parents. But he can’t do that, because he’s a Formula One driver now. He’s nineteen, and he needs to act like it.

 

That thought is like poison. It pricks his insides and makes his eyes fill with yet more tears. He’s nineteen. He was eighteen when this started, and now he’s nineteen. Except instead of a lavish birthday party with friends and family doting on him, all he can picture is a dark room, an empty stomach, constant exercises with his new finger to ensure he’s ready to fight when he needs to. He’s a month too late to complain about the fact that he didn’t get a birthday, though, so he tries to shove the feeling back into the little box in his head. The little box that’s constantly growing, over encumbered by the amount of memories Kimi’s trying his best to keep at bay. It’s bursting at the joints, straining against the padlock, and he mentally winds chains around it to keep the ever growing threat of it rupturing at bay.

 

Kimi can’t find it within himself to change out of his suit, or to shower the stench of death and smoke from his body, so instead - after turning off his phone all together and doubling down on repressing as much as he can - the only thing for it is to close his eyes and sink into his usual routine of nightmares. At least such overwhelming physical exhaustion means the terrors aren’t enough to wake him, at least he gets a full night of fitful, restless sleep.

 

+ + +

 

Singapore, Singapore
Sunday 05 October 2025

 

Kimi’s life is more of a strict routine than it’s ever been before, and for someone who’s life has been so tightly regimented since he was sixteen, that’s saying something. 

 

Between Baku and Singapore, Kimi has worked overtime to keep his mind from doing anything untoward. He’s been staying in England, near the factory at Brackley, so that every morning (after waking up at the crack of dawn and running 10 kilometres) he can put in a session on the Sim. Then, a tough gym workout. Then lunch. Then he’ll either respond to emails, look over data, or attend meetings. Once that’s done, no matter the weather, he’ll go out on his bike until his body feels like it’s going to break. And then he’ll push himself more - further, harder, faster - until he has no choice but to slowly return to base. 

 

Then he has dinner that’s been set aside for him, because it’s late and the kitchen staff have already gone home. He heats it up in a microwave and then goes to his desk, working a few more hours even if he doesn’t really need to. 

 

By the time he’s back in his hotel, he practically passes out, his body too tired to resist. If he’s lucky, his mind is so tired that it can’t conjure up any kind of bad dream for the first few hours. Sometimes he makes it to morning without so much as a hint of a nightmare. 

 

People keep asking him questions, and he doesn’t like it. His mother asks when he’s next going to call her (and he does, dutifully, whenever she gets so stern with him that there’s an angry, Italian voice note waiting for him when he opens WhatsApp). Bono asks him if he’s sleeping okay, because his reaction times are delayed and with a track like Singapore the next they’re visiting, that’s the last thing the team needs from him. Sergi asks him if he’s eating enough, because he’s not regained the weight he expected him to after being rescued from the Hornet. Toto asks him if he wants to come and stay with the family, that the spare room is still there if he wants it, that Jack would love to hang out with him and Susie would welcome him with open arms.

 

He understands that his behaviour might not be the healthiest it’s ever been. That after Baku, in the quiet moments when he thinks he’s alone, he tightens his hands into fists and punches his thighs as hard as he can, or he digs his nails into his skin until he draws blood. That he still can’t take a shower whilst facing the water. That he’s constantly tormented by his failures, and sometimes that flashes across his face. 

 

On the few occasions that he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as he’s in his bed at night, his mind will roam in that dark room. How much pain were those people in? How betrayed were they that he couldn’t save them? He’s ventured onto social media in the past two weeks, he’s seen what people are saying about the Silver Spider. He knows that people are still against him.

 

Kimi opens his eyes and sighs, bringing himself back into the present. Because he’s not in Brackley right now, he’s in Singapore. His family are here - all three of them are making an effort to go to all of his races in light of Sergi confessing that the Hornet had targeted him - and he’s sitting in the back of the garage with them before the race itself. The air is hot and humid, filled with birdsong, and even with his iconic space jacket on he still feels it. He’s eating ice, sipping on water, Sergi is keeping a close eye on his temperature and occasionally changes a setting on the jacket to better control his body. He wonders if this is how tyres feel, wrapped in blankets and carefully monitored until the moment they go onto the car.

 

Maggie still hasn’t forgiven him, and Kimi can’t blame her. As much as he’d like for his little sister to talk to him again, he doesn’t forgive himself for anything. Their parents try their best to encourage them both to reconnect, but Kimi insists that they let her go about things at her own pace. If she can ever find it within herself to forgive him, he doesn’t want that to be because their parents have pressured her.

 

Like he has so much this weekend, Kimi sees a flash of Doriane mingling in the garage, and he tries to keep himself hidden from her. All weekend she’s been trying to approach him, and all weekend he’s run from her. At least, before now, she’s been distracted with F1 Academy, but now the chequered flag has fallen on her second victory of the weekend she’s been hanging out in the garage, standing between Toto and Bradley, and will be watching on for the duration of the race.

 

His hiding spot, flanked by his family, isn’t a place he can stay forever though. He has to go through the motions of heading to the grid, and standing alongside Esteban for the anthem is awkward, because Esteban is another person that knows, and that means he’s another person that Kimi’s been trying to avoid. This close to the race they don’t have time for a conversation about it, but Kimi still senses the look that he’s given as he escapes the moment the anthem is done and runs back to his car - parked up nicely in P6.

 

It wasn’t an electric Qualifying by any stretch of the imagination, but his first time at the toughest track on the calendar - a tight street track at night, no less - it isn’t a terrible place to be. He can make some progress, because as much as his life has been thrown upside down as of late, he still wants to race, he still wants to win. 

 

So he pulls on his helmet, he climbs into the car, he blocks out anything that isn’t the tarmac beneath him or Bono’s reassuring voice in his ear, and he drives. He drives as fast as he can, his mind a world away from anything to do with the Hornet, or the Wasp, or what they might be getting up to this weekend. All he thinks about is racing, and it pays off over the course of the next two hours, when the chequered flag is waved and he ends up narrowly missing out on a podium. He’s just half a second behind Oscar, and whilst the disappointment of not being able to get past him is overwhelming at first, by the time he’s trundled back to the pits (picking up rubber, as Bono reminds him), he’s reasoned with himself that actually - this is the best thing for him.

 

Fourth is the most points he can get without being on the podium, and being on the podium ties him to a relentless evening of media obligations. Here, once he’s done his debrief, he can sneak out of the paddock and go back to his hotel. Rather than join the team in their celebrations of George’s second place, he can do what he couldn’t do in Baku. He can get ahead of the Hornet and the Wasp. He can pre-empt their next move. He can patrol, and the moment he notices anything amiss, he can intervene before the worst case scenario unfolds. Before thousands more die. Before his reputation as a fraud, a hapless superhero who can’t do anything, becomes even more true.

 

And that’s exactly what he does. As soon as he can - before Doriane or Esteban or Pedro (the human) can disrupt him - he leaves the team behind and travels back to the hotel with his family. His family goes into their room, and he goes to his. The moment the door clicks shut behind him he’s taking off his team kit and pulling his suit out of the wardrobe, at the same time that a little voice rings out in the room.

 

“Pedro would like to congratulate the Silver Spider on his race!”

 

Kimi blinks, turning to face the little robot who’s made himself perfectly at home on top of the TV on the wall. This version of Pedro is fascinating. He’s got much more of a personality now he’s got a face and a voice to go along with his words, and the additional movement that comes with swinging himself around has given him a whole new sense of freedom. 

 

“Thanks, Pedro,” he says softly. “But it wasn’t a podium, eh? Nothing to congratulate me on.”

 

“Pedro disagrees! Pedro thinks it is very important to remind his friend that he is doing a good job! Pedro is concerned about–”

“I know, Pedro,” Kimi sighs. “Everyone is concerned, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

They’re both quiet for a beat, and Kimi feels bad. The little spider is just doing what he was designed to do.

 

“Pedro worries about the Silver Spider. Pedro does not wish to lose him again.”

 

Kimi won’t pretend he doesn’t feel awfully guilty about that.

 

“I’m sorry,” he replies. “It just feels better to keep it in, you know? To not talk. It’s easier.”

 

“The Silver Spider should know that what is right is not usually what is easy,” Pedro chimes in, and he counts himself as well and truly told. 

 

That doesn’t mean he opens up, though.

 

“I’m going out to patrol,” he informs his friend instead.

And just in time, too, because as he’s pulling his mask over his face and moving towards the balcony he can hear someone knocking at his door and calling his name. Doriane’s voice is distinct, and Kimi flings himself off the side of the building without a second thought, without even being fully ready yet. He has to tuck his mask into his suit as he falls, leaving him with one arm to catch himself whilst he adjusts the fabric. But, soon enough, swinging becomes as routine as it’s ever been.

 

He’s faced with the iconic Singapore skyline - towering skyscrapers with the silhouette of a cruise ship held aloft in the air, the cloud and flower domes of the gardens, the petal-like shape of the art and science museum… Even from this high up he can smell the hawker stands and hear the bustle of people now that the race is over. The air is more humid than it was before the race, the dark night sky now dense with clouds pregnant and ready to burst with rain at a moment’s notice, but it means that the breeze he feels through his suit is more welcome than ever.

 

It means, for a little while at least, that he can almost enjoy himself. He can almost forget the anxiety bubbling up inside of him. He can almost forget what it is he’s here to do. Thankfully, every time he blinks his mind is supplied with images of charred remains and dust floating away from his fingertips, and that keeps him perfectly focused as he makes a loop around the city state - grateful that it’s a small enough place that he can observe everything that’s going on. He doesn’t feel like he has a blind spot as he cycles between the city centre, the shipping port, Sentosa island and the airport. It’s a nice loop, it stretches out his muscles wonderfully after a brutally long race… 

 

It almost feels like he’s back in Miami, when he first got his suit, learning how everything worked and manoeuvring around the city without any cause for concern. Maybe when this is all over, he’ll keep his suit and just have the freedom to do as he pleases. Even without the suit, he can swing, but he’s gotten rather used to the reinforced nature of his web. 

 

With each loop, Kimi monitors the small differences in goings on for anything that might make him worry that the Hornet and the Wasp have found their target for the night. During his second swing around, Kimi only finds himself comparing how busy nightclubs are. In fact, it isn’t until the fourth loop that anything substantial changes, and it’s not even close to what he’s expecting.

 

Rather than the appearance of the Hornet, or the Wasp, or of a tingling sensation in his wrist, or a pit of dread opening up in his stomach, he finds that he’s being tailed by a helicopter.

 

The fact that it’s a helicopter alone is enough to make his stomach churn after what unfolded in Baku, but Kimi manages to keep his calm as it follows him back towards the port. At least if he heads this way he’s out of the city, and if the Hornet manages to pull off the same kind of stunt as he did two weeks ago, less people will be in danger. Though the waters seem busier than before. This time there are more boats, all small in size, with searchlights scanning the sky. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the helicopter, maybe they’re looking for the helicopter.

 

Or maybe it’s something else entirely, maybe he’s just missing things, maybe his senses have been permanently dulled by whatever the Hornet injected him with in Silverstone. He likes to think he’s observant enough that, even without his tingling wrists, he’d have noticed if something dreadful had happened, but he opts to land on top of some shipping containers all the same. The hive of activity is enough of a reason to focus his efforts here for a little while… Unless this is just a distraction technique, and the Hornet is currently rampaging through downtown Singapore.

 

Kimi takes a breath. He needs to trust himself, he can’t become unnerved by the smallest of things, even as there’s a rumble of thunder loud enough to shake his ribs loose, and a flash of lightning so bright it temporarily blinds him. Fat raindrops start to fall, and in the blink of an eye a curtain of water passes over the port and Kimi is as sodden as a rather unhappy cat.

 

He stays atop the containers despite the storm, knowing he needs to be able to see what’s happening more than he needs to descend and be less of an obvious conductor for any lightning strikes. There’s enough cranes around that he doubts he’s high enough up to be of any interest to the storm, anyway. As he watches, the buzz only seems to grow. The small boats make their way closer to the port, more helicopters start to circle, and there’s trucks arriving on the ground. Military. It doesn’t make sense that there could be so much going on without the Hornet or the Wasp present! 

 

Kimi wipes some of the rain from his mask before he decides to jump down and find someone to talk to. Maybe he’s stumbled upon an ambush on a huge drug smuggling operation, maybe he’s in entirely the wrong place and he should be patrolling the city and leaving the army to take care of the port. They’re heavily armed, far more than he is, whatever threat they perceive is here they’ll surely be able to handle without his help.

 

When he lands, he strolls through the shipping containers without thinking twice about it, peering left and right to find someone to talk to. By the time he does find someone he’s entirely at ease, smiling behind his mask and holding out a hand to shake theirs.

 

In return, he stares down the barrel of a gun.

 

Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes, briefly illuminating the features of the soldier standing before him. His face looks like stone, there’s no hint of emotion, he’s just resolute in the conduct of his duties. 

 

It’s terrifying. 

 

“Hey,” Kimi says softly, taking a step back and holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m here to help, don’t worry,” he says quickly. 

 

And, just as quickly, his words are dismissed without thought.

 

“Silver Spider,” the soldier addresses him bravely, his finger hovering over the trigger of his gun. “You’re under arrest.”

 

He steps back again, looking briefly over his shoulder. But, to his dismay, there’s no easy way out of this one. He’s surrounded, and suddenly wishing he’d taken Sergi’s warning that Interpol had taken interest in him a little bit more seriously.

 

“No!” Kimi pleads “No! No, I can’t be under arrest! I’m here to help! The Hornet and the Wasp, they’re the ones you want to arrest, I–”

 

“Sir, put your hands above your head,” the soldier demands, as more soldiers appear behind him. 

 

It all starts to click now. The huge police and military presence here has nothing to do with the Hornet or the Wasp, it’s nothing to do with a drug bust, they’re here for him. 

 

His heart pounds in his chest as he looks for a way out. With the boats, helicopters, and soldiers they’ve got eyes and guns on the land, in the air, and at sea. If he’s escaping, he’s not getting out without a fight. But they want to arrest him. He can’t hurt them. He can’t give more fuel to the fire of people wanting to take down the Silver Spider. The Hornet has already done enough damage to his reputation, Kimi needs to get to safety without hurting anyone. If he does, it just looks like he’s still a threat. If he does, then he isn’t safe anywhere. They’ll still blame him, they’ll still try to arrest him, they might even try to kill him if they deem him to be too dangerous to approach.

 

He takes in a slow breath as he raises his hands, trying to buy himself time to think of a way to escape. The fact that he seems to be coming peacefully appears to relax the soldiers with their weapons trained on him, and police officers round the shipping containers to pull his hands down behind him to handcuff his wrists together.

 

Kimi knows he can get out of this, it’s just a matter of how. 

 

He’s pushed gently by one of the officers, coercing him to start moving forward, and he does as is silently requested. He has to comply, as much as he possibly can. Anything but compliance will end with a bullet against his head. 

 

“Should we take his mask off?” One of the officers asks.

 

It’s a thought that makes him stiffen. They can’t. Surely they won’t. There’s CCTV cameras everywhere: if they do the whole world will know who he is in a matter of minutes. 

 

He feels a gloved hand reach out towards his head and he flinches away, tugging one of the officers with him by virtue of the fact that she doesn’t let go of his handcuffs. And as she falls to the ground, the convoy comes to a halt and there’s guns on him again. 

 

“Get down!” Someone yells at him, but he can’t listen this time. 

 

Complying to buy himself time is one thing, but complying now will only put him in more danger. He has to trust that a bulletproof suit is bulletproof against an entire standing army, and not just one shot. So Kimi sprints away, as fast as he can with his hands cuffed behind his back. Everything he notices just makes the situation worse - and retreating to his hotel is going to be a very difficult prospect. He can’t use his hands to climb, he can’t move his wrists enough to shoot out his web, he’s entirely reliant on his boots. Thank God Toto made the latest pair better at jumping. It means that with a well timed jump he can make his way from the ground onto the top of the shipping containers, though he almost loses his balance as he lands - stumbling forwards a few steps and just managing to catch himself before he falls off the other side. He looks around, there’s got to be something he can use to uncuff himself.

 

Thunder rumbles, lightning flashes, and he sees the strike fork not too far away from where he’s standing. One of the cranes has been hit. 

 

Cranes. Perfect!

 

If he can get to the hook of the crane and position it just right, he’s pretty confident that he can jump and there’ll be enough force that the hook rips the metal cuffs in two. Simple, right?!

 

Without another plan immediately coming to mind, this is the best thing that Kimi’s got. He’s just got to get to the crane first. If he wasn’t surrounded by dozens of soldiers with guns, he’d think that a pretty easy task. 

 

A sniper bolt brushing past his cheek is a timely reminder that this is going to be anything but easy. And it’s a reminder that he needs to move. Fast. 

 

So Kimi does, he backs up to the end of the container to give himself as long of a run up as possible, splashing through puddles before he jumps again. There’s shouting beneath him as the soldiers are coordinated, but he ignores what’s said as he just tries to put distance between him and them. Not being able to use his webs is a horrible feeling, one that highlights just how vulnerable he is in a situation like this. Having his hands taken from him is almost world ending.

 

When he runs out of shipping containers, Kimi jumps down onto the ground and rolls to cushion his fall and keep his momentum. The docks aren’t just lit up by the sporadic flashes of lightning now, but by searchlights from the helicopters and by headlights of the trucks carrying soldiers. He can’t outrun machinery, he’s not that impressive, all he’s got is the ability to out think people. He dodges another round of sniper fire, then jumps his way back up another row of shipping containers. He can see the cranes from here, the hook blowing back and forth in the wind of the storm. Positioning himself is going to be an awful lot harder than he expected it to be.

 

Each jump he makes takes him closer and closer to his destination, but it comes with immense risk. There’s bullets soaring past him, just barely missing him, he’s getting far too lucky and he knows his luck won’t last forever. The longer this takes, the more likely it is that one of the bullets will land. When one does eventually hit, it’s still one hell of a punch. It finds his calf, hitting the suit and coming to a dead stop. Whilst it doesn’t pierce the suit and with it his skin, the force is enough to bruise and it feels like his leg is on fire. He can’t stop running, can’t stop jumping, and just has to hope that it’s not going to affect his ability to make his way out of here.

 

There’s more thunder and lightning, the storm only growing more and more intense. The rain is practically sideways as it hits his face and the wind picks up water from the puddles and swirls it around. It’s starting to make him anxious. It’s one thing to be out in the rain, but when it’s hitting his mask like this… Fear starts to creep in, his heart beating faster, telling him that he’s in much worse danger than he really is. At least the conditions are making life harder for the soldiers, too: it must be doing something to make shooting and seeing him more difficult. 

 

He’s getting closer to the cranes now. Kimi can hear the wind whistling past and the wires whipping back and forth in the strongest gusts. He’s only going to have one shot at this - one wrong move and he’s in the water. His suit might let him breathe, but he doesn’t want to test that out. He doesn’t want to feel himself being pulled beneath the water once more, the phenomenon of his lungs being starved of oxygen and flooded with salt water. He won’t be able to swim to shore and it’ll only be a matter of time before they send divers after him to retrieve him. Divers who will only continue to try and arrest him.

 

Kimi jumps again, this jump taking him from the shipping containers to the back of the crane.

 

As he lands, he feels something crack, and he lets out a shout.

 

White hot pain travels up his leg from his ankle. He’s been led to believe, from everything that Toto’s told him about the boots, that he shouldn’t have been able to break, twist, or even sprain his ankles. There’s padding that makes jumping like this safe. Which of course leaves one other potential: he’s been shot. The boots are still bulletproof, just like the rest of his outfit, but bulletproof just means it hasn’t pierced his flesh. It doesn’t mean there’s anything to stop it from hitting him with enough force to break the bone.

 

He grunts and groans, closing his eyes in his mask as he gathers himself. He feels the thunder more than he hears it, the wind blowing him back and forth. He’s wet, and cold, and injured, but if he gives in now then he’s just going to be arrested. He’s going to be killed. The Hornet and the Wasp will continue on unchecked - their morals won’t allow anyone to get close enough to try and arrest them - and whatever their plan is to take control of the world, they’ll be able to enact it. If he fails now, the whole world will suffer.

 

Gritting his teeth, Kimi limps along the metal rails. Every step is agony, and the forces of mother nature do little to help. When he has to jump again he braces and shrieks at the top of his lungs as he lands, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps pushing, keeps pushing, keeps pushing.

 

The further he walks, the more exposed he becomes. He ducks under metal and skirts nervously around the edge of a tall pillar that anchors the crane to the ground. Beneath him now are waves, and in those waves are boats. They’re like sharks circling, ready and waiting with open jaws should this all go wrong. The helicopters are watching too, though the wind is so strong they’ve had to retreat somewhat to keep from crashing. On the ground, soldiers with their guns pointed firmly at him, awaiting the order to shoot from their commanding officer.

 

It’s an order he can hear, carried by the wind. 

 

“Ready… Aim…”

 

But before they’re commanded to fire, there’s another flash. Not a flash of lightning, but a flash of something. A flash of someone. A flash of the original Silver Spider suit, caught only briefly between blinks, swinging through the port. 

 

Doriane. 

 

Her presence is enough to confuse the army, who don’t seem to have prepared for a situation where there’s two Silver Spider’s. Kimi can see it on their faces, whenever the storm illuminates them. By confusing them, and splitting their attention, Doriane is buying Kimi the time that he desperately needs. Without knowing how long it’s going to last he has to make the most of it, and so he lowers himself to his knees as he continues to journey along the boom of the crane. It’s stable - an obvious fact given it’s used to lift containers weighing far more than he does - but in the wind it doesn’t feel stable. He practically hugs the pendant as he edges closer to the tip, and finally he’s there. He’s at the edge. 

 

The world feels like it should be silent, yet it’s anything but. The wind howls against his ears, the sound of the waves beneath him crashing against the side of the port is deafening. He can hear the engines of the boats and the trucks and the blades of the helicopters rotating at speed. Above it all, he can hear his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears and echoing in his skull. He hurts.

 

He’s got one shot at this, so Kimi fights to block everything else out. He takes in a breath, he ignores the noise, he waits until his brain is entirely silent. He can’t drown out his heartbeat, but it becomes a metronome as he watches the hook beneath him swing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He studies it for as long as he deems it safe to, with no idea how much more time Doriane can win for him, and then he’s faced with the fact that he has to act. 

 

Kimi musters up every ounce of bravery he has and closes his eyes, pretending that the water below is in fact just solid concrete. Somehow it’s a comforting thought, and it means that as he exhales and leans forward he’s able to move his arms forward - using his instincts to latch it onto the hook.

 

His whole body jerks upward in an instant and his shoulders ache, more than usual, and then he’s falling. He’s falling, and his arms are flailing to find some kind of balance. He’s falling, and when his eyes open and he’s falling towards water the brief feeling of freedom is replaced with abject terror. 

 

Water. Waves. Sea. Ocean. He’s falling. He’s going to drown. 

 

He shoots off a web and swings, feet skimming across the surface of the water as he dodges the boats that fill the port. Bullets and raindrops shower around him, but with his hands suddenly free he’s got all the control in the world. The situation isn’t quite so terrifying anymore, not when he can fire web after web after web and carry himself away from the dock. The boats can’t follow him as he moves further inland, and the trucks are bound by the limits of the roads. He weaves back and forth to lose them, the only thing he has left to worry about are the helicopters.

 

But the storm is taking care of them for him. As he heads back towards the centre of the city and starts to swing through skyscrapers, it becomes impossible for them to follow. The gaps between buildings are too narrow, and with the wind as strong as it is they can’t risk crashing into each other or into a building in the pursuit of him. 

 

He’s done it. Kimi’s done it! He’s pulled it off! 

 

Except that’s followed quickly by another thought. Where is Doriane? 

 

He can’t call this evening a success if she’s still captured, and with every passing second the adrenaline running through his veins becomes less and less intense, and the pain in his ankle becomes more and more prevalent. He’s not going to be able to take on an army to rescue her, but he can’t find it within himself to abandon her completely either. So he finds a skyscraper to land on and perches himself on the roof, sitting on the edge as he cradles his ballooning ankle. 

 

The storm abates as quickly as it came about - one moment it’s there, and the next it’s gone. He almost finds himself questioning whether or not it existed at all, but the fact that he’s still wet is evidence enough that something did happen. He keeps his eyes on the horizon, watching desperately and whispering prayers to Gods he does and doesn’t believe in that Doriane will appear at any moment. If she doesn’t, what can he do? Find Sergi, get him, Esteban and Pedro - the human - to take on the Singaporean military in his absence? He’s not going to be fighting fit for a couple of weeks, and he’s just seen how ruthless and efficient they can be. If she doesn’t show up soon…

 

“I found you!”

 

Kimi jolts, almost falling off the roof itself, but Doriane manages to grab hold of his shoulder before he can. He winces at just how tightly she holds him, but she can’t see that behind his mask. And, speaking of masks, she’s already working on removing hers. So Kimi drops down from the edge of the skyscraper - only letting out a soft grunt of pain as he sits down with his back against the wall - and he removes his own mask, too. 

 

Neither of them look particularly good, but it’s clear that despite being shot he’s faring better than Doriane.

 

For a moment there’s silence as she sits to his right, before she gets a tickle in her throat and starts to cough. Just a slight cough at first, though it becomes more chesty and wet. Kimi looks at her, frowning as she gets a hold of herself now that she’s been clocked. Once she does, it’s quiet again, save for the distant rumbles of thunder from another far off storm and the faint sounds of traffic from the streets below.

 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all week,” Doriane says, like Kimi wasn’t aware of the fact. “If I knew all I had to do to get your attention was to set the army on you, I’d have done it sooner.”

 

She giggles at that, and Kimi looks at her in a way that only makes her laugh more.

 

“I have something for you,” she continues after a moment, when she’s able to stop laughing.

 

He’s not sure where she pulls the little box from - and frankly he isn’t going to ask - just watches silently as she hands it to him. The flimsy cardboard has been squashed beyond recognition, and it barely even looks like a box. She’s definitely sat on it at some point in the intervening period, but that isn’t the point. Doriane is looking at him, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and who is he to put a downer on that expression? She’s just saved his life, he owes it to her if nothing else. 

 

Kimi takes the box from her and looks it over, dragging out the moment to see just how much he can wind her up - just how impatient he can make her - before she playfully thumps his right shoulder. 

 

“Open it!” She encourages him.

 

“Alright, alright, lo sto aprendo, calm down,” he insists with a roll of his eyes.

 

He does give in, though, and starts to open up the squished box. Doriane’s eyes don’t move from him once, her smile only growing wider, and when he pushes back the lid he sees why.

 

The cake is very, very squashed. It has been sat on, without a doubt, and probably thrown around too. In fact, feeling the underside of the box is enough to know that not only has it featured in a fight, but it’s been shot at. There’s no exit hole on the top of the cake, which tells Kimi the bullet is probably still in the cake itself. When he looks at her and gestures to the hole, she just shrugs.

 

“I have spoons too,” she explains. “We can eat around it.”

 

“You brought two spoons? For my birthday cake?”

 

“I saved your life, didn’t I? Eh, what an ungrateful little…”

 

Kimi bursts out laughing too this time, and it feels nice to laugh. Up here, away from the world, away from the pressures of racing, or heroism, it’s just the two of them in their suits without a care. Doriane hands him a spoon, and is courteous enough to let him have the first go at it.

 

“What did you bring me a cake for?” He asks.

 

It’s strawberries and cream. The sponge is light and airy and between the two is a thick layer of whipped cream and fresh strawberries. He knows that Sergi would give him a stern warning for straying from his diet like this, but he’s probably not going to be overly pleased that he got shot. Might as well make him disappointed for something he enjoys, too. It’s sweet - almost too sweet - but that doesn’t seem to stop Doriane from tucking in too.

 

“Your birthday,” she shrugs. “You were still with the Hornet then, eh? I bet he didn’t think to give you a cake.”

 

Kimi’s half way to another spoonful of cake when her words really hit him, and he feels his whole body freeze up. He’s hit with something he doesn’t really understand, a wave of emotion so intense that he really doesn’t know what to do with it but stop completely still. Because she’s bought him a cake. A cake for his birthday. She remembered his birthday and she’s been following him for days trying to give him a cake, even though it’s a month and a half later. She’s saved his life, and she’s sitting beside him beaming as she feeds herself straight towards a sugar high. 

 

It’s strange to feel like he matters in the grand scheme of things. The fact that Sergi managed to get a group of people together to save him was evidence that people cared, but evidence that he could just as easily ignore. Mostly because in the face of awful memories coming back of what he’d done in the Hornet’s company, it was impossible to even consider that he might’ve been loved. How could anyone love a monster? But now he’s here, on top of a skyscraper in the middle of Singapore, with his friend who’s done nothing but stand by his side. 

 

He puts the box to one side and before Doriane can complain, he turns into her and wraps his arms tightly around her torso. Kimi buries his head between her neck and shoulder and closes his eyes, feeling tears leak out from between his eyelids. He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t want her to see them, but he does mutter a few quiet words against her shoulder.

 

“Grazie, Doriane.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she replies seamlessly, her own arms squeezing around him for a moment. “When you’re done, can you let me have the cake again?”

 

He doesn’t hesitate. As soon as the tears have gone he moves away and brings the cake back in front of them, eating until his belly is sore and his soul is wrapped in bandages. It’s a temporary fix, he knows that, but maybe it’s enough to get him through the rest of this. Maybe he’ll be able to get to the end of the season now. Maybe he can keep pushing things away until the Hornet and the Wasp are dealt with and the world is safe.

 

They pull their masks back on before they go their separate ways, and once they’ve parted Kimi is reminded of the things that Doriane’s presence had been able to smooth over - like the throbbing, intense pain in his ankle that seems to have come back so much worse. As he swings back to the hotel it just gets worse and worse and worse, and when he lands on the balcony and rolls to a halt he feels a white hot pain shoot all the way up his leg. 

 

God he hurts so much!

 

“Silver Spider! Pedro is glad to see you!” His friend chimes in immediately, and Kimi goes to sit on the edge of his bed with a groan.

 

“Silver Spider?”

 

“Can you call Sergi?” He asks, taking in a breath. “Or is that still beyond your technical limitations?” 

 

“Pedro can summon friend Sergi! Is the Silver Spider finally ready to talk about his emotions? Should I request that friend Sergi bring ice cream?”

 

“Maybe an ice pack,” he quips, laying back against the pillows with a sigh. 

 

He needs to change before Sergi gets here: a long sleeved t-shirt to hide the still growing darkness on his skin, and a pair of shorts so that he can show the wounds on his calf and ankle without any need to undress. Kimi watches as Pedro goes about fulfilling his request - scuttling over to his phone and unlocking it (since when did the robot know his passcode?) and sending a text (since when did the robot know how to text?!). He forces himself to change, ignoring the pain for a few minutes, knowing this will be better in the long run. 

 

When Sergi does arrive, it’s with the ice pack he’s requested and some pain medication. He checks him over quickly and declares that the bone in his ankle has been fractured, but not entirely shattered. Some rest over the next few weeks will help it heal before they fly out to race in America. He’s got time. Two weeks. He’ll be fine, they’ll be mindful of the injury whilst training, and he’ll be like new before he’s even touched down on American soil.

 

Kimi thanks him and sends him away promptly, not wanting to give his friend an excuse to try and ask questions and talk about his emotions again. The shaky bandages applied by Doriane are the best he’s going to get for now, and he doesn’t want to disrupt them. He’ll get through it. He has to get through it.

 

The fate of the world, quite likely, depends on him getting through it.

Notes:

A somewhat more 'chill' chapter this week... If by 'chill' you mean the Hornet did Azerbaijani 9/11 and then Kimi got shot by an army... Chill as in there's no huge consequences or implications for the rest of the world, something that will be very much the case next week. Oh, it's almost COTA time, my friends, and COTA is when we enter the endgame...

So enjoy this chapter, leave comments and kudos as always, and let's hold hands and brace for what's going to happen next week!

Chapter 12: Issue 12: A Warning About Danger

Austin, United States of America
Wednesday 15 October 2025

 

Kimi is dying.

 

Everything is in chaos. He’s underwater, his vision obscured by the waves that might be inches, or might be kilometres, above him, his gloved hands can’t quite break through to the surface and pull his body up. At least he’s high enough up that he can see, that the searchlights of helicopters above are able to illuminate the world around him. It’s of little comfort when the world around him is like this. 

 

Air bubbles in front of him as he watches another bullet zip far too close for comfort. His ankle is jostled in a way that makes him want to scream out the breath left in his lungs. He’s going to die down here, he knows it, because the hands that keep trying to pull himself to the surface become handcuffed and positioned behind his back once more. 

 

Kimi turns his head and looks down, into the deep abyss of the Singapore harbour, and he wonders what might be down there. Perhaps nothing but a cold, dark, watery grave, but maybe there is something. Maybe a whirlpool that will suck him in and spit him out at the Hornet’s feet once more, maybe a pit filled with ‘bees’ and ready to devour him, or perhaps just another military battalion ready to put a bullet through his brain. He’s not sure which is worse, and he’d really rather not hang around to find out. 

 

But what option does he have? Swim up, with his broken ankle and his handcuffed arms? Or fall down, into the darkness but away from the army who so desperately wants his head? 

 

Kimi tries to thrash his body around, to make it appear like he has some kind of input in the decision that’s eventually made, but before he can move in any direction he suddenly feels something wet and cold on his cheek. And then it’s hot. And then it burns, like nothing he’s ever felt before. If his suit is supposed to be bulletproof, then why has his mask just been ripped open by a bullet? 

 

His mask flashes up a warning of a breach, and when he panics the air that leaves his lungs doesn’t return. There’s no filtration system that can save him now. He’s drowning, again, and as his body fills with water rather than oxygen he starts to choke. His muscles tighten, his whole body feels cold, he’s too heavy to move towards the surface. Kimi would take the bullet now, he’d take a hundred bullets, if that meant he could get air into his lungs once more. Instead of rising, his body begins to fall, sinking lower and lower towards the dark seabed below…

 

He screams when the world around him becomes pitch black, and he hears his scream echo around him. He inhales deeply, whole body shaking as oxygen shocks his body with its return. Kimi is on the ground, hard concrete beneath his hands and feet. He can’t hear anything, he can’t see anything, he scrambles for purchase and feels dust and debris move between his fingertips. Ash. The faces of those that died in Baku flash before his very eyes and he jolts backwards, falling from his hands and knees onto his bottom, scurrying backwards in the dirt until he collides with a wall. It’s cold and dense and he feels like the room around him is both endlessly big and slowly crushing him. Kimi makes himself small, curling up into a ball.

 

A light comes on and suddenly the world around him is a dull, drab beige. There are concrete blocks as high as houses towering above him, row after row, but not a single person to speak of. Wind whistles ominously through the empty streets, and it whistles through his bones too. He stumbles to his feet - he has to get out! - and he starts to run. Left, then right, then right again, maybe left? He’s lost. Surely, he can find someone that will help him?

 

He runs, hands no longer cuffed behind him, and as he does he catches glimpses of darkness. Whatever was on his shoulder has spread across his body and consumed him entirely. Someone is standing in front of him. He reaches out, but before Kimi can touch them they’re turning around, teeth bared, hissing and snarling. One person becomes three - two so desperately disfigured that he can’t make out who they are, but one he recognises. One drives her hand into his chest and pulls out his heart, still beating, and observes it as a small bird flutters and lands on top.

 

“Come now, Bumblebee,” the Hornet’s voice rings out.

 

It’s so loud that covering his ears does nothing to stop it from entering his mind and repeating over and over again. Come now, Bumblebee. Come now, Bumblebee. Come now, Bumblebee! 

 

“Mi hai fatto così male, Andy,” Maggie continues.

 

He’s hurt her. She’ll never forgive him. He’d pick up the individual fibres of Bombo and twist them back together into threads he can use to mend her broken heart if she’d let him, but it’s far too late for that. It’s too late for him. He’s dying again, and hands are wrapping around her shoulders as she’s guided away from him. 

 

And then there’s a sharp movement. Then darkness. Then a bright, blinding light.

 

Kimi pants desperately, filling his lungs with air as he falls back against his pillows with his heart still beating far too fast, his body shaking furiously, and his mind racing. It takes everything in his power not to be reduced to a puddle, a sobbing mess tangled up in his sheets, and he does everything he can to keep himself as calm as possible. He’s a sweaty, clammy mess, which means he’s going to have to take a shower, but he needs a minute to feel in control of his own breathing before he dares to step into the bathroom and sort himself out.

 

It’s been a stressful couple of weeks, by anyone’s standards, and so it’s really no surprise that every morning he awakes to a different variant of the same nightmare. That isn’t the first time he’s seen Maggie there, but it’s the first time he’s dreamt of her whilst she’s nearby. His parents, so desperate to keep him safe, are bringing the whole family to every race until the end of the season, which means that they’re several doors down in the same hotel as him. He’s been in Brackley for the last few weeks, undergoing intense physical therapy with Sergi to make sure he’s ready to race, whilst his sister has been catching up on her schooling - a double header in the form of COTA and Mexico means that she’s going to be away a lot, and she’s needed to buckle down and get through her work before flying out. 

 

As he shifts to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs to the side and starting to flex his ankles back and forth before allowing his feet to touch the floor, he decides he’ll invite her along to the track walk today. She still isn’t talking to him, and he’s determined to remedy that. There’s only so many times he can dream about her being snatched away from him without being able to pull her close and pepper her face with kisses when he awakes. The team will like having her around, it’ll be a good opportunity for good PR - if he can make her smile, anyway. 

 

For now, he has to focus on getting ready, which means taking a shower and getting breakfast. Kimi looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes against the carpet, before he pushes himself up slowly. He takes his time balancing himself - not because he strictly has to, but because he’d rather not do something stupid and write himself out of a Sprint weekend by getting out of bed - before walking quietly across the room. He moves his neck from side to side, releasing as much tension as he can by himself, and rolls his shoulders forward and back to loosen himself up. There’s still a dull pain in his left shoulder, but he’s grown used to it now. In fact, he’d probably be more concerned if he woke up without it at this point. He doesn’t have to glance in the mirror to see how far it’s spread now, a quick glance down at his arm is enough to confirm what he already knows. The darkness is radiating across his torso and has now made it past his elbow. Other than the slight soreness where he was injected with the serum and the antidote, there’s no other symptoms, so he finds it relatively easy to shelve any concerns he might have.

 

Kimi knows that if Sergi saw it, or Toto, or Ollie, or anyone, that they’d spiral into a frenzy of worry in the blink of an eye, but thankfully Kimi has far too much on his mind to spiral over something like this. He’s exhausted. Making sure he’s ready to race, preparing mentally and physically for another confrontation with the Wasp and the Hornet, and facing the memories of everything he did whilst under their control is plenty. The spreading darkness isn’t an immediate threat, so there’s no point in wasting his very finite energy on concerning himself with it. 

 

Eventually he stretches his way towards the bathroom and bites the proverbial bullet, turning on the shower and watching the water hit against the floor and swirl away down the drain. Whilst the water warms up, he peels away the sweat drenched boxers that’ve stuck to his thighs and throws them thoughtlessly to one side before turning back to face the shower. His heart is in his throat and he stares for far longer than he should - long enough that the water has warmed up and started to cool down again - before he finds the courage he needs to step over the side of the bathtub and pull the shower curtain shut behind him.

 

He’s not standing under the water just yet, instead right at the back of the bath as it just pitter patters against his feet. He approaches it cautiously, breath caught in his throat as he feels water against his calves, then his thighs, then his stomach, then his chest. 

 

Kimi hasn’t been able to fully put his head under the water since Monaco, and that hasn’t changed. He turns to have his back to the showerhead as he rinses then shampoos his hair, lathering his body briefly with some of the bubbles from the shampoo, before rinsing it again quickly and getting out as soon as he possibly can. He doesn’t know how much dry shampoo and deodorant he’s worked through over the last few months, but anything is better than a shower even a second longer than necessary.

 

He dries himself off with a towel and dresses in clean clothes - long sleeved shirts only despite the Texan heat that lingers deep into October - before taking his things and heading to join his family for breakfast. 

 

They only arrived the night before, so the meal is a subdued affair as his parents and sister get over the effects of jet lag on their minds and bodies. Kimi eats what he can - eggs, fruit, and yoghurt, mostly - before what he knows is going to be a long day with the team. A Sprint weekend is always more work. There’s less chances to get things right, and when something goes wrong it often spirals through every session. The team are close, really close, to taking the lead in the Constructors' Championship, and Kimi can’t afford to haemorrhage away points at this point in the season. 

 

When he offers to take his sister to the track walk, his exhausted parents seem relieved - both at the prospect of a day to catch up on sleep, and at the idea of the two siblings fixing the broken bond between them. Maggie, understandably, seems far less excited, but not so disinterested that she revolts against their parents’ blessing. As soon as breakfast is done, Kimi returns to his room to get his bag before walking to the suite his family are staying in to collect Maggie. 

 

She’s firmly on her iPad, a little crocheted bag across her chest with her paddock pass, purse, and phone tucked away, and under her arm she’s carrying Bombo. Kimi tries not to think ill of the replacement cat, knowing just how dear it is to his sister and just how much he’s hurt her already because of how he feels about the toy. His attempts at making conversation as they make their way down the elevator and out into the foyer are entirely ignored, and when he offers her his hat to wear she brushes him away seamlessly. 

 

If it wasn’t for how things had gone before summer, he’d think she was just entering puberty. She’s almost ten and a half, that’s just on the cusp of mood swings and acne, and he’s not so long out of that himself. He knows how hard it can be, and he wouldn’t blame her if that was the case, but he knows it isn’t. Not really. It’s because of Bombo.

 

It’s all because of Bombo.

 

The short drive to the paddock is awkward and silent, apart from the video that Maggie is watching, and Kimi finds himself relieved when they arrive and they’re enveloped by the madness of people rushing in all directions to get things done. Being surrounded by the sounds of engines firing to life and wheel guns whirring always makes him feel better. The pit lane feels as much like home as Bologna does, welcoming him with open arms and soothing his aches and pains. It’s easy to compartmentalise the Hornet here. Kimi leads Maggie into the back of the garage, and she finds her usual spot to sit. So much for talking things through with her and rekindling something that resembles a loving, familial bond. 

 

Kimi, in turn, is whisked away to work with the team. He doesn’t mind leaving Maggie sitting there, he knows she’s just as much a part of the Mercedes family as he is and that people will take care of her, so he lets Bono bring him in to talk about data from last year that might be useful for his track acclimatisation on Friday. Kimi takes notes as more and more information is fed to him, and he flicks through the pages of his notebook to see what he’s scribbled down from weekends gone by. There’s a pang in his heart when he reaches the torn edges of several sheets, hearts in the margin split down the middle. Kimi sighs, but he does what he can not to attract any attention from Bono. His engineer is a resolute professional, and he’s grateful for that.

 

He’s immersed in the screens for goodness only knows how long, before he’s being pulled away by Sergi to his driver room for a quick physiotherapy session. When he leaves the garage he tries to wave to his sister, but Maggie ignores him in favour of making the new Bombo meow and growl in Toto’s face. She’s smiling, which is nice, but it does hurt a little bit that he can’t make her smile like that anymore.

 

His session with Sergi is short, because Kimi has been doing his exercises religiously and his ankle has healed well. And because Kimi still won’t budge from the script of I’m fine whenever someone asks him how he is. Sergi isn’t an idiot - both he and Sergi are aware of that fact - and Kimi knows that the man on his knees in front of him, fingers massaging his ankle, knows he isn’t fine. But he also knows that Sergi isn’t going to push him so much on the question that he pushes him away entirely. It’s a delicate tightrope that they’re walking together, but it’s a dance that’s working nonetheless. 

 

If he ever does break, Sergi will be there to catch him. But if he’s got any say in the situation at all, he won’t let it get to that point.

 

With Sergi’s blessing, Kimi heads back out for the track walk, but not before a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson are handed to him. Media’s instruction, Sergi tells him when he stares at the objects blankly. Bono and his sister are in tow when they leave, Maggie has been convinced to leave the iPad behind, which means she’s talking to Bombo softly as she shows her each turn of the track, pointing out the different landmarks as they go. The social team are, of course, eating it up, and Kimi’s sure he appears in the background of a couple of shots they manage to take as he stares at her longingly. 

 

Such a twisting first section of the track doesn’t give the conversation any opportunity to stray away from what line to take, how the change in altitude will affect the performance of the car, and what dirty air will do to his race if he’s caught up in traffic. It’s not until after Turn 11, when they start their long trek down the back straight, that they have a chance to just talk. 

 

“So,” Bono starts slowly, and Kimi wonders where this is going. “I reckon you’re more suited to being a superhero than a cowboy.”

 

That’s a gentle introduction to the topic, he supposes. But they’ve not had the opportunity to really talk about this since Bono discovered his identity - mostly because Kimi’s doing his damnedest not to get caught in a conversation alone with anyone that knows - and he can’t pretend he’s surprised that Bono would want to bring it up. He turns his head on a swivel, making sure that no one is close enough to hear them as they talk.

 

“I guess so, eh?” He agrees with a breathless laugh, scratching the back of his neck.

 

Kimi swallows, pushing on through the awkwardness as Bono tries his best to sensitively navigate the topic. He can only imagine what’s going through his mind right now, and what’s been going through his mind for the past month as he’s pieced together everything he can. He wonders how he’s changed in Bono’s eyes - if he’s disappointed, if he’s proud, if he’s frightened of him - and now would be the perfect time to ask. Except asking is really the last thing he wants to do. Asking means getting an answer. If the truth is presented to him, and it’s not what he wants to hear, he can’t escape that. At least right now he can pretend that Bono still holds him in high esteem.

 

“Do you need any sort of… Accommodations?” 

 

Alright. Again, Bono is approaching this in an entirely different manner. It keeps catching him off guard.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I don’t know much about being a superhero,” Bono chuckles softly. “I can schedule our meetings for later in the morning if you’re out late and need to catch up on sleep?”

 

Kimi blinks at him. 

 

“Or maybe, I don’t know, Sergi’s probably got your diet covered hasn’t he? And Toto probably knows anything else that’s important. I just don’t want to come across like I don’t care. I do care. I care about you a lot, kid.”

 

The sentiment is reinforced by Bono’s hand coming down on his shoulder and squeezing, and Kimi feels a tightness in his chest. It’s a strange kind of feeling. The thing is, he knows, objectively, that people care about him. He knows that Sergi got a team of people together to help him because those people care about him. He knows that Toto has a team in Mercedes making him a suit and weapons because he cares about him. He knows that his parents were overjoyed to have him back, that Ollie embraced him for hours, because they care about him. He knows that Doriane brought him a cake and saved his life because she cares about him.

 

But to hear the words, to have it spelled out so clearly for him as Bono is doing now, it feels so much different. It’s raw, in the way that staring down the barrel of a gun is. He can’t escape it. Nothing Kimi can do or say can deflect it away from him to protect himself. He’s left exposed, and he stumbles over his own feet before regaining his balance.

 

The hand on his shoulder moves to his elbow, and Bono helps steady him.

 

It’s a strange kind of feeling, one that sits weirdly in his stomach, and Kimi finds himself balling his hands up into fists at his side. It’s one thing for people’s affection to be implied, but to be spoken aloud? After all the things he’s done? How can Bono possibly say something like that? He bites the inside of his cheek, he presses his nails against the heel of his palm, and he closes his eyes to take a deep breath. Thousands of people are dead, either because of him or because he couldn’t save them, and now Bono knows the truth he’s saying things like this? It makes no sense! He can barely meet his own gaze in his reflection, how can Bono pretend that he still cares? How can anyone–

 

“It’s alright, mate,” the hand still on him winds around his shoulder to give him a sideways hug.

 

Kimi feels a little bit sick.

 

He’s never been more relieved to make it to Turn 12, for the conversation to return to work, and for the talk of caring to be left alone. They return to the topic of lines and overtaking opportunities, how best to take the kerbs to avoid damaging the plank to the point of disqualification, and, of course, pulling back on entry for better exits. Kimi says the words at the same time as Bono does, and Bono insists that he doesn’t say it that often. It’s an instance that makes Kimi laugh, which makes the social team snap a candid photo of them for their track walk photo dump. 

 

They’re only interrupted when they make it to Turn 17, standing in the shadow of the observation tower whilst white clouds bubble and blossom on the horizon, and Kimi’s heart stops. Maggie has finally approached them. He barely breathes as she tugs at Bono’s hand, terrified that if she realises for even a moment that he’s there she’ll storm away and the attempt of smoothing things over with her will have gone about as well as expected. 

 

Kimi watches on silently as Bono crouches down to her height, his knees cracking as he does so, and Maggie stands in front of him with Bombo presented in her hands. She’s smiling from ear to ear and speaking so softly that Kimi can’t even hear the words that leave her lips. What he does hear, loud and clear, is Bono’s response.

 

“Uh, meow?” 

 

He practically stumbles backwards as he guffaws, his ambitions of subtlety lost to the surprise of hearing his engineer meow. Maggie’s brief giggles cease almost immediately, but Kimi can’t pull himself together quickly enough given the absurdity of the situation.

 

“Mate, did you just meow?!” He scoffs. “Ehhh, you cannot do that! You cannot meow!”

 

“I’m not meowing,” Bono insists, pushing his hands against his thighs as he stands back up. “I was indulging your sister.”

 

“No, no, I’m sorry, you’re a little kitty cat now, mate,” he laughs. “We need to get the ears, for the headset. You can use them in the garage.” 

 

“You really don’t have to do that, buddy,” Bono tells him, desperately flustered at how this situation has unfolded. “Maggie just wanted to introduce me to Bombo, she said we’ve got similar names.”

 

“Oh, you’re similar alright,” he snorts, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to text Ollie and find out where he got his from, for the gaming, and then I’m buying you a pair!”

 

“Right, well, as long as you use your own credit card.”

 

Kimi’s joyous laughter is cut short by the sound of a flouncing ten year old, and when he manages to quieten himself down he finds himself on the receiving end of a death glare from his sister. Any illusion of light hearted fun is gone, and suddenly the world feels cold. The clouds from the horizon have blown over and covered the sun, and the shade that’s cast over the track makes a chill run down Kimi’s spine. The atmosphere has shifted substantially, the social media team lowering their cameras - thank God - as Maggie stares up at Kimi with unbridled fury in her eyes. Kimi has never seen her like this before. She’s been angry, of course. Like any child she’s had her fair share of tantrums when the iPad is taken away, or when she has to go for a bath or bed, or if she’s forced to eat vegetables at dinner, but this is a different kind of anger. Her eyes stare straight through him, directly into his soul, and rather than raise her voice she speaks with a quiet, simmering rage that feels hauntingly unnatural from a child.

 

“You ruin everything,” she tells him in no uncertain terms, in their native tongue so the others around them have little hope of understanding. “I liked it better when you were gone!”

 

Over the course of the last few months, Kimi’s brain has taken a serious beating. He’s been upset, he’s been traumatised, he’s seen and done things that he’ll never be able to entirely remove himself from, but those words from his little sister… They make him feel far worse than everything else combined. It’s like a sinkhole has just opened up beneath him and it takes a monumental effort not to fall to his knees and sob. He reaches out for Maggie instead.

 

“Tesoro, please,” he whispers desperately.

 

But she’s already turned away, running off back towards the pit lane. Kimi can’t do anything but watch her go and brace for his parents’ disappointment in the evening that he failed to make things up to her. Even if he wanted to run, Bono’s put a hand on his shoulder, comforting him with a firm squeeze. 

 

“Don’t sweat it, mate,” he encourages softly. “She’ll get over it.”

 

Kimi straightens himself and looks up at his engineer, doubt in his eyes that such a statement could be true, but he does what he’s been doing for months now. He puts on a mask, he buries his feelings down, and he gets on with the task at hand. The track walk. And then, a seat fit. And then strategy talk. And before he knows it, the day has drawn to a close and Kimi is returning to his hotel with a still furious Maggie sitting in the back of the car. There’s nothing more he can do except return her to their parents - where she seems to perk up immediately and show no sign at all of the anger she’s held towards him - before returning to his own hotel room to think of a distraction for the evening.

 

There are a couple of options in front of him, for the last night of freedom before the intensity of the weekend starts and doesn’t give way until after Mexico next week. He could lie in bed and scroll through social media (pleasant, but dangerous if he stumbles onto videos about himself), he could go for a run and wear himself out until (helpful in getting a full night of sleep, but he won’t wake up if he’s plagued with nightmares and he’ll be exhausted for the sessions tomorrow), or… Or he could do what he’s been promising Ollie they’ll do since Imola. They could go on a date. 

 

A quick text confirms that, once he’s finished his dinner with his father, he’s got a free evening, so Kimi takes advantage of that time and runs to the nearest little supermarket to buy a crappy bouquet of flowers before coming back and showering just enough that he doesn’t stink. He dresses himself in a smart shirt and his nicest pair of jeans, sprays himself in enough perfume that he’s legally classified as a biohazard, and he walks down the corridor to the room number that Ollie texted him.

 

He takes a breath as he loiters outside, enjoying the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. This is the closest he’s come to doing something normal for months. Normal nineteen year olds don’t travel the world racing for nine months of the year, normal nineteen year olds don’t chase supervillains around and try to stop them from killing, but normal nineteen year olds do get nervous before asking someone on a date. Even if they know that the other person will say yes, it’s not enough to entirely keep the nerves at bay. And Kimi likes that. He likes how grounded and ordinary he feels as he stands outside Ollie’s room, playing with the stems of the flowers as he flexes one hand until it feels comfortable enough to bring his knuckles to the door.

 

Kimi knocks three times, swallowing when he pulls his hand back, touching up his hair and letting out a breath. This is normal. This is ordinary. This is right. 

 

Ollie opens the door, and his face is flushed with surprise. His eyes widen, his lips stretch from ear to ear in a toothy grin, and he laughs in his usual way: scrunching up his face, cheeks turning red, the sound delicate and sweet on Kimi’s ears.

 

“Kimi!” He grins, which does help with smothering his anxiety. “Oh my God, mate, these are wonderful. Thank you!” 

 

As he takes the flowers from Kimi their fingers brush, and the excitement of accidental intimacy thrills him. Ollie leans forward a little, twisting his head left and right. Kimi made sure he wasn’t followed, no one’s watching them, they’re safe.

 

“Do you want to come in?” He asks, turning to head back into his room already. 

 

Kimi shoots out a hand, grabbing hold of his wrist softly to keep him from escaping.

 

“Eh, actually, I wanted to know if you’d like to go out? On a date? I mean, our attempts at dates have been kind of useless so far,” he admits with a laugh. “But I thought… Mini golf?”

 

If it’s at all possible, Ollie’s face only seems to light up even more. He holds up a finger, indicating that Kimi should wait where he is, and Kimi does just that. He loiters in the corridor, just long enough that he’s starting to get anxious that he’s been rejected, but eventually Ollie re-emerges. He’s got a classic pair of baggy jeans sitting low on his hips and he’s paired it with a light pink sweater - and Kimi wonders if he has anything in his suitcase other than his own merchandise. Still, he can’t help but smile widely in return.

 

Within five minutes, they’ve bundled up beside each other in the back of an Uber. Within twenty, they’re getting out in front of the Dirdie Birdie and staring up at the sky that’s painted with ever deepening shades of blue. The streets around them are busy with people, but it’s not as crowded as it’ll be at the weekend when the city comes alive. There’s no one shouting their names either, no one recognising them and running for autographs or for photos, so Kimi does something utterly crazy - crazier than swinging through a thunderstorm in Singapore, crazier than crashing into the barriers in Austria, crazier than fighting the Hornet with a wok and a golf club. He reaches for Ollie’s hand. 

 

Their fingers brush again, but with purpose this time. There’s nothing accidental about the way that Kimi’s knuckles knock against Ollie’s, and he hopes the same can be said for how Ollie’s fingers move to intertwine with his own. It’s not a proper hand hold, just the very tips of their fingers coming together, but nonetheless it’s enough to make Kimi’s heart race.

 

They head inside, parting only briefly as Ollie goes to the bar to order them both drinks (and being firmly shot down, returning to Kimi’s side with Coca Cola instead) as Kimi speaks to the attendant at the front desk to organise clubs, balls, and scoresheets.

 

“Ollie, I will make you a bet, okay?” Kimi tells him, cocky and sure of himself as he practically throws the club over his shoulders to look as cool as he possibly can. Ollie’s giggly reaction tells him it’s going swimmingly.

 

“I’ll beat you at anything,” Ollie promises, and Kimi hums.

 

“For every hole-in-one I score, I’ll give you a kiss. What do you think?” 

 

Even on the mini golf course, where the lighting is carefully controlled and manipulated to create the ideal atmosphere, Kimi can see the way that Ollie turns beet red with that suggestion. He feels a sense of pride at how well he’s flustered the man, and takes his silence as agreement as he places his ball on the tee and lines himself up for his first shot.

 

There are twelve holes at the Dirdie Birdie. 

 

Kimi Antonelli finishes their round with the low, low score of 102 strokes.

 

If Ollie’s upset about the lack of a kiss, he’s certainly not showing it. In fact, he’s practically bent over laughing as they return their clubs and balls to reception. On Kimi’s best hole, it still took him 5 strokes to sink a putt. On Ollie’s, well…

 

“I told you I’d beat you,” Ollie smirks, his hand on the small of Kimi’s back as they walk out. 

 

It’s much cooler now, and Kimi feels the coolness through his thin shirt. There’s too much light pollution in the centre of the city to see the stars, but Kimi doesn’t need to see them twinkling above him to know that it’s late at night. They should call an Uber and head back to their hotel, go back to their rooms and get ready for bed, but Kimi doesn’t want the date to end. It’s been a perfect distraction, something he’s needed so desperately after the last few weeks. As badly as he might have done at mini golf, he’s enjoyed spending time with Ollie without the weight of the world on either of their shoulders. They’ve just been free, young adults enjoying themselves and laughing without a care in the world. Kimi’s fallen more and more in love with Ollie over the course of the night, from watching how he focuses on his shots to when he’s stood behind him and placed his hands over his own, helping him to sink that 5 stroke hole when all the odds were against him. 

 

Ollie is perfect. Completely perfect. 

 

A lot of things in his life are complicated, and messy, and some are just downright awful, but Ollie is nothing of that sort.

 

He’s a warmth, a constant glow, a reminder of what it is he’s fighting for. Trying to protect the whole world is a noble goal, but it’s impossible to imagine. He can’t quantify in his mind trying to save eight billion lives. But he can look at Ollie, at his smile and his freckles and chestnut brown eyes, and he can think about saving him.

 

There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to save him.

 

“You’re staring,” Ollie whispers, and Kimi just smiles at him softly.

 

“I know.”

 

“I think there’s an ice cream place around the corner, if you want?” 

 

Kimi nods his head, and he feels Ollie’s fingers tangle with his again. He’s braver this time, more than just the tips interlocking, and they walk together through the evening crowd. Kimi dares to lean against Ollie’s shoulder, shivering as they walk but making sure not to let him notice. The last thing he wants is for Ollie to see that he’s cold and suggest they end things early. He’ll spend the whole night freezing if Ollie will give him that much time!

 

They end up standing at the back of the ice cream shop for some time, letting others jump ahead of them as they stand in deep consideration at the wide variety of flavours. They do have competitive sessions from tomorrow, so their indulgence needs to be limited. Which means eventually they decide to get an ice cream to share, with one scoop of chocolate peanut butter (Ollie’s choice) and one scoop of cookies and cream (Kimi’s choice). After Kimi wins the showdown of who gets to pay - and Ollie promises he’ll pay for the next date - they end up wandering absent-mindedly to find somewhere to sit. Months ago, in Miami, they learned that America wasn’t really a place for pedestrians, but they do find somewhere to sit after a while of searching. A small patch of grass that isn’t in the way of traffic or on the verge of a major highway. It’s quiet enough that they can talk to each other in low, whispered voices as they share their ice cream and talk about nothing or consequence or important, just enjoying prolonging the time they’re sharing together. 

 

Deep down, Kimi feels himself fighting the urge to change that.

 

For some reason, he wants to tell Ollie the truth. The whole truth. He wants to recount the stories of the last few months, to explain what happened during summer break, he wants to confess that when Ollie kissed the Silver Spider in Monaco it was actually them kissing. He trusts Ollie, he knows that if he told Ollie his secret would be safe with him, but he doesn’t say any of that. He just listens to Ollie talking about how excited he is for Christmas because he’s already started buying presents for his family - little souvenirs from every race so they can have a collection and share a part of his first year as a full-time Formula 1 driver. 

 

It’s sweet, and Kimi really doesn’t want to interrupt him, but eventually Ollie trails off and his brows knit together in concern. Kimi, previously entranced by his freckles and beauty spots, notices the change in demeanour and sits himself up, looking on with worry on his face.

 

“Ollie?”

 

“You’re cold,” Ollie says matter-of-factly. 

 

Kimi’s secret is out! He’s cold! He gasps softly that Ollie could’ve ever worked out such a thing. And then he giggles, even if Ollie is still frowning. 

 

“This isn’t funny! You’re cold! Here…”

 

Ollie trails off, and Kimi stops laughing as he watches him pull his sweater over his head and push it firmly against his chest. His hands rise to press against the fabric, warm and smelling distinctly of Ollie, and he blinks.

 

“What are you–”

 

“Put it on, Kimi,” he insists - his tone straddling affectionate and chastising. 

 

Kimi doesn’t argue, not when he’s got Oliver Bearman’s sweater between his fingertips. He pulls it over his head quickly. It’s big on him - too long really - but he’s always liked a longer fit. He likes it even more when it feels like a hug from his… His crush? Ex-teammate? Rival? Friend? It’s too early to put a label on what they are, even if Kimi’s been dreaming about falling into his arms and lips for months. Even if he can’t stop thinking about Monaco, the reassuring warmth he’d felt when they’d kissed. The fire has remained lit in his belly ever since, smouldering away even if it’s been forgotten because of more pressing issues. Despite the chaos of the last few months, Kimi’s never stopped thinking about that moment.

 

And now he can’t stop thinking about how he’d like to recreate it.

 

“You look cute,” Ollie says softly, staring at Kimi like he’s totally unaware he said those words aloud.

 

Kimi doesn’t ruin the illusion, totally happy to just let the moment play out, leaning fractionally closer to Ollie with every second that passes. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll get lucky.

 

“Oh my God, it’s so late! It’s practically midnight!” Ollie gasps.

 

Maybe he won’t get lucky.

 

“It is?” He asks, though he doesn’t really care. 

 

But Ollie cares, nodding away, and so Kimi supposes he’d better care too. He takes out his phone and calls an Uber to take them back to the hotel, mourning what could’ve been on the car ride back. He wonders if Ollie was aware of it too, if maybe he broke up the moment for a reason. Maybe he’s not ready, maybe he’s nervous, maybe he’s having second thoughts… He called Kimi cute, though! That’s not what someone having second thoughts would do!

 

They’re back in the hotel just before 1am, and whilst Kimi is still resolute that he doesn’t care about the time and would’ve been happy to sit out with Ollie until the sun came up, he will admit that he’s tired and that the prospect of a long sleep in his bed is welcome. The only downside is that when he wakes up it’s media day, and media day means he won’t get any more time with Ollie until… Well, until after Mexico! They’ll be kept busy by their teams for the duration of the double header. Maybe they can arrange to fly to Brazil together? Maybe there’ll be time for another date before the weekend. 

 

His room is further from the elevator on their floor. Whilst Kimi tries his best to drop Ollie off at his room, Ollie insists on ‘walking Kimi home’. It’s cute. They’re only about five doors apart, but Kimi appreciates the chivalry all the same.

 

It’s why they’re now both lingering outside the door, Kimi playing with his key card but not quite ready to scan it and let himself in, Ollie watching him affectionately but too nervous to make a move. When Kimi looks back up and opens his mouth, they both speak at the same time.

 

“I had a really nice night with you–”

 

“I got a hole-in-one, remember?”

 

Kimi blinks, looking at Ollie curiously.

 

“You did,” he agrees. “Are you trying to rub it in?” 

 

“What? No!” Ollie laughs softly, shaking his head. “I mean, we made a bet, didn’t we?”

 

Kimi nods. He remembers. How quickly twelve kisses became zero…

 

“Well, I got a hole-in-one,” Ollie reminds him, his voice low, and Kimi feels something stirring in his stomach.

 

Oh. Oh. 

 

Ollie moves unsurely, and Kimi observes him. He’s confident, he wants Ollie to kiss him, but watching him take the time to figure out how to do it is so much more endearing than just pulling him close impatiently and pressing their lips together. It’s sweet to feel a hand on his hip, fingers experimenting with how hard they want to press against him. When Ollie brings a finger beneath his chin and tips his head back slowly he feels his stomach lurch, he’s filled with lust and desire and the urge to just hurry the process along to kiss him hard and fast, but he allows Ollie to remain in control. He feels well and truly swept off his feet by the mere look that Ollie gives him, his eyes filled with adoration and need. He can see the nerves too, the same ones that Kimi felt a few hours ago when he’d stood at Ollie’s door with flowers in his hands. He sees it in how frequently Ollie blinks, in how he nervously licks his own lips, in how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

 

When Ollie finally starts to lean towards him, Kimi closes his eyes and feels his breath catch in the back of his throat.

 

Their lips touch for the first time since Monaco. Kimi feels a familiar warmth in his bones, enveloping him the same way Ollie’s sweater has. It’s soft, and safe, and simple. He doesn’t dare try to deepen the kiss, doesn’t care about tongues or teeth. Despite his previous hunger, this gesture is all he needs. Their lips move slowly together, and Kimi drops his key card and moves his hands to cup either side of Ollie’s face. He tastes sweet, the lingering flavours of cookies and cream and peanut butter left on his lips. The kiss is slow, and lasts for several long moments, before Ollie pulls back and Kimi lets his eyes flutter back open to take him in.

 

Kissing him as the Silver Spider was great, but kissing him as Kimi is wonderful. There’s no regret on Ollie’s features this time - something he’d really like to make a habit of when they kiss. 

 

Kissing him is something he’d like to make a habit of, too.

 

“Thank you for tonight,” Ollie whispers softly.

 

Kimi drops his hands, and Ollie catches them in his own. He squeezes tightly. The perfect end to a perfect evening. 

 

“Can I keep it?” Kimi asks hopefully. “The sweater?” 

 

“Can I have one of yours?” Ollie asks in return, and Kimi nods. 

 

It’s a fair deal. He bends down to pick his key card up and scans it at his door to let them both in. Kimi thinks nothing of it as he steps inside, Ollie in tow, and searches for something to trade for his sweater. He knows the best part about wearing Ollie’s is that it smells of him, that it’s a reminder of him even when he isn’t there, so rather than grabbing one from his suitcase he picks one that he’s tossed haphazardly on his bed. As he turns to hand it to Ollie, he notices him staring.

 

But Ollie jumps and looks back to him before he can figure out what it is he’s staring at.

 

“Here,” he says with a soft smile. “It might not fit you very well,” he admits. 

 

Ollie just shrugs.

 

“I don’t care,” he replies truthfully. “I’ll use it as a pillow.”

 

It’s Kimi’s turn to blush, but he overcomes that quickly as Ollie starts to walk to leave the room. He’s not ready to say goodnight just yet if he can help it!

 

“Can I have another kiss?” He asks hopefully, and Ollie laughs in that sweet, wonderful way that Kimi is never going to stop thinking about.

 

“No!” He denies him, but Kimi can’t even be upset about it when he sounds so joyful. “I only got one hole-in-one! We can’t kiss again!”

 

“Alright,” Kimi concedes - it’s only fair. “What if I win this weekend?”

 

“I suppose, if you win, you can have another kiss.”

 

Kimi grins. He’s already determined to win, but if winning gets him another opportunity to kiss Ollie Beaman he’s never going to leave the top step of the podium ever again.

 

+ + +

 

Austin, United States of America
Saturday 18 October 2025

 

Kimi wins the sprint race.

 

It’s not like he can go from winning the sprint race to making out with Ollie in the same breath, given he’s got all sorts of media obligations as a result and still has to get ready for qualifying, but he makes sure to send a text to Ollie confirming that he’ll be expecting the kiss when they get a moment alone. Ollie responded with a rolling eyes emoji and a reminder that sprints don’t count, but Kimi plans on holding him to his promise regardless.

 

For now, he’s going to lie in his room and relax. He’s going to think about everything Bono talked to him about during the debrief. P4 isn’t bad for qualifying, but after winning today he’s got a taste for victory and wants to be back on the podium again tomorrow. And not just because it’s funny to watch the Americans wince at a 19 year old throwing his head back and swallowing as much champagne as he can. He doesn’t even like the stuff!

 

He’s got his eyes shut, not because he’s sleeping but because he’s picturing the track in his mind. His pillows are arranged so as to prop him up like he’s in the car, and he’s pretending to hold his steering wheel and miming the best lines around each corner. Even though this is his first year and his first time at COTA he still has muscle memory to lean on - mostly from the simulator but also from the four sessions he’s already driven. He knows when to go up a gear, when to brake, what lines to take and how to overtake. Ahead of him on the grid tomorrow is Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, and Max Verstappen. He can take one of them, easily. Two if he’s lucky. Three if Ferrari do Ferrari things.

 

Kimi practices his breathing, his drinking, the way he leans with the G-force into corners. Even if he performs perfectly tomorrow, there’s no guarantee he’ll make it past Max or the Ferrari’s. There’s got to be some kind of fuck up for him to capitalise on. With drivers of the calibre of Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, and Charles Leclerc ahead of him, he’s not expecting much.

 

As he’s leaning to take turn 12 in his mind’s eye, he feels something. Something tingling. 

 

“Silver Spider!” Pedro chirps to life, scuttling out from the top of the wardrobe that he’s made his home. 

 

“Yep, I feel it too mate,” Kimi says, sitting up in a flash and reaching for his gear. 

 

It’s just strewn over a chair, but no one comes into his room that doesn’t know about his identity these days. He doesn’t care about it being left in the open. Changing barely takes a minute, and as he steps into his boots he looks back to the little robot.

 

“Are you coming?”

 

“Pedro is happy to assist the Silver Spider!” The spider replies happily, swinging his way onto Kimi’s shoulder and latching onto his suit as they prepare to investigate together. 

 

But before he leaves, before he lets himself run out alone, he has a brief moment of lucidity. A rare moment where his brain manages to conjure up a thought in time to stop himself from doing something stupid. Doriane. He’s seen her in the back of the garage, which means she’s here somewhere, which means he doesn’t have to do whatever he’s about to do on his own. She can help him, and maybe she can keep him from getting himself killed. He’s got a kiss to redeem from Ollie, it would be embarrassing if he died with that debt unpaid.

 

It might cost him precious time, but with his recent track record it’s time that’s worth spending on taking his phone from the side and sending Doriane a quick text. He can’t linger to meet her, but he can tell her that something is wrong. If it’s obvious what’s happening, he can rely on her to meet him there. If it’s not… A quick look at Google Maps confirms that there’s a hospital nearby, and that serves as a good enough meeting place for him. He sends Doriane the address and hopes she’ll see the message before he leaves the hotel behind with his robot friend on his shoulder.

 

This part of the process is a well oiled machine now. He knows how to leave without being seen, knows what to leave open or on a latch so he can get back in without a second thought, and he knows how to follow the feeling in his gut to take him exactly where he needs to go - though he’s not doing that step right now. His gut is pulling him south west, away from the centre of the city and in the opposite direction of the track. When he lands on top of the hospital he’s agreed to meet Doriane at, he casts his eyes over in the same direction. Normally, when he feels a tingling in his wrist, following his gut is sort of a performatory exercise - usually the explosions make it rather clear where he needs to go - but today it’s a very different story. Despite the tingles, which aren’t going away any time soon - everything is quiet in the south west of the city. The sleepy suburbs are just that: sleepy. There’s nothing to draw his attention, nothing that concerns him, but his gut is clearly very distressed by the situation and it wants him to keep going. 

 

So it’s a relief that Doriane arrives only a few minutes later, peeling off her mask to look at Kimi apologetically. 

 

“I was with Susie, I couldn’t get away from her fast enough,” she explains. 

 

Kimi understands. The delay caused in Baku - trying to get away from George, make it back to his hotel to change, and then return to the city - is what gave the Hornet the upper hand. But today, Kimi feels as though they can spare a few minutes. Something is happening, clearly, but in a different way than it’s happened before.

 

“What’s going on?” Doriane asks him, pulling her mask back over her face to use her enhanced vision as she stands besides Kimi and stares off in the same direction as him.

 

“Eh, I’m not sure yet,” he says. “But my wrist, it’s all tingly.”

 

“And it’s definitely the Hornet?” She asks him. “You’ve not been thinking of Ollie and lying on your hand?” 

 

Kimi turns his head to look at her. Communicating silently with masks blocking their facial expressions is a skill, but Doriane laughs in a way that tells him she can sense the look she’s being given.

 

“It’s more obvious than you being the Silver Spider! A word of advice, it never works how you think it will.”

 

Kimi’s red enough that he thinks he’d be spotted from space, and he’s glad that his blush is hidden by his mask and suit as he thinks through the implications of Doriane’s words. He decides that the best thing for it is to just change the topic completely, 

 

“We should get going,” he tells her. “Follow me.”

 

Doriane nods, and Kimi walks to the edge of the building and jumps down seamlessly. A quick look over his shoulder confirms that Doriane is doing just the same, the two of them starting to swing until the buildings aren’t close enough together to swing anymore. From there it’s a case of remaining in the shadows of night and moving with the world - whether that’s using the wind to hide their footsteps, or by hitching a lift on the back of a truck. For once, Kimi finds himself thankful for America’s reliance on highways, because it gives him and Doriane an opportunity to sit on the back of a truck and speed along in the right direction without exerting themselves at all.

 

They sit in silence, ducking to dodge low bridges and signs, and Kimi pays close attention to the feeling in his body as they travel. There’s nothing else to go on at this stage - no fires, no fighting, no danger whatsoever. It makes him feel desperately uneasy. Something should be happening, but instead he just feels as on edge as he did in Imola when he spent the whole weekend waiting for the other shoe to drop. The tingling on his wrist keeps intensifying, and he taps Doriane on the shoulder when he feels his gut telling him that it’s time to go. They drop down subtly, rolling into the long grass at the side of the road to stay in the shadows, and Kimi leads the way. 

 

He takes them away from the highway, clinging to the wall of the offramp to keep them both hidden, though this part of the city is quiet. In fact, if it wasn’t for the complex across the small road opposite he’d think they’d left the city behind entirely. Trees sway gently in the breeze, moonlight streams down over the world peacefully, and nothing here feels amiss. It’s almost worse than something being obviously wrong, because it means he doesn’t know what he’s meant to do to address it. At the very least, he has Doriane and Pedro with him.

 

They wait for a few more minutes, low to the ground and flat to the wall as a handful of cars leave the highway to remain concealed as headlights illuminate their surroundings. Kimi follows the light with his eyes, even if the cameras of his suit do a decently good job of showing him things even in the depths of night, and as he really starts to take things in gazing across the road and the complex suddenly becomes a much worse experience. His stomach drops. The words are as clear as day.

 

Camp Mabry. Headquarters Texas Military Department. 

 

The last place Kimi wants to be after Singapore is near a military base. If the Singaporean military were willing to put a bullet in him, he can only imagine what the American military will try. Doriane being beside him suddenly becomes a much stronger reassurance than it was before.

 

Eventually the world around them falls silent and still, and Kimi holds his breath. He could turn back now and flee to the safety of his hotel room, lead himself and Doriane far, far away from this danger, but then what? He puts off a confrontation because he’s afraid of what might happen to him? What about the alternative? What’s going to happen - not just to him, or to Doriane, but more widely - if he doesn’t keep going? There’s a reason that his senses have brought him here, and if there’s a connection between the Hornet, the Wasp, and the United States Military then he has to do something about it. 

 

“Pedro,” Kimi whispers softly, finally breaking the silence. “Can you hide us from the cameras?”

 

“Pedro will assist the Silver Spider and friend Doriane in their quest!” He declares proudly, and Kimi shushes him immediately.

 

“Can you speak any more softly, mate?!”

 

[PEDRO WILL RETURN TO USING TEXT BASED MESSAGING FOR COMMUNICATING WITH THE SILVER SPIDER AND FRIEND DORIANE!]

 

Kimi sighs, relaxes, and decides to trust that Pedro is holding up his side of the bargain as he makes his move from the grassy verge and gestures for Doriane to accompany him. They sprint across the four lanes of road between the highway and the Camp, and they ignore the plethora of signs that say DO NOT ENTER as they run through the gate. Kimi braces himself for an alarm, or a wall of bullets, or a landmine, or something, but as he jumps over a concrete barrier and ducks beneath some trees - Doriane hot on his heels - nothing happens.

 

The tingling in his wrist is stronger than ever, the pull in his gut to keep marching forward makes him feel even more nauseous. Something is happening here, something big. 

 

Kimi looks west, where roads converge and several buildings stand alone. Just looking at them makes his heart beat faster, and it’s all the confirmation he needs to know that’s where they need to go. But getting there isn’t going to be a straightforward task, because between those buildings and the pair of them is a checkpoint - staffed - and a well lit path that he can only assume is closely monitored with hundreds of cameras. As they sit and he observes, trying to piece together a plan in his mind, Doriane taps his shoulder and points to their left. 

 

Patrols, too. 

 

Unsurprisingly, a military base is a well guarded facility that’s incredibly difficult to sneak into, and just as difficult to sneak around in. He’s really not sure how he didn’t see this coming.

 

“Keep dealing with the cameras, Pedro,” Kimi whispers firmly. 

 

[PEDRO WILL ASSIST THE SILVER SPIDER AS REQUIRED FOR AS LONG AS REQUIRED!]

 

“Don’t stop until we’re back at the hotel,” he tells him.

 

And that at least takes one worry off his shoulders, but there’s still the matter of the patrols and the staffed checkpoint. Dealing with technology is one thing, but people are different. Even a well-drilled military is still human, and that means mistakes can still be made, which means that patterns - however recognisable - are liable to change. That doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to be gained by sitting in silence, by watching and waiting to see the routines, habits, strengths, and weaknesses of the soldiers that march past. It would, naturally, be more helpful to have a larger dataset to pull from, but if he wants to be able to catch the Hornet in the act and find out whatever it is he’s doing here, then there’s only so long he and Doriane can wait before they have to make their move. 

 

Over the last few months he’s done some crazy things, but none of it feels quite as impossible of a feat as sprinting 200 metres does right now. Doing that whilst keeping both himself and Doriane safe is almost entirely futile, so instead he breaks it down. If they can make it the shorter distance to the checkpoint they can subdue the officer and make another run towards the buildings. Once they’re there, there’ll be more nooks and crannies they can use to hide themselves. 

 

Kimi keeps himself hidden and tries to calm his breathing as he watches several patrols make their way up the road towards them, turn, and walk past them. At their closest, they end up just metres away. It’s a miracle they aren’t seen. He watches as they continue, unaware of how close they’ve come to intruders, to observe just how far they go before the next patrol round the corner at the other end of the base. It’s not a particularly long gap, and Kimi’s concerned that there’s a good chance the first patrol will hear them and turn around, or that the second will see them leave their hiding spot. 

 

So it calls for a new plan, a stupid plan, a reckless plan. 

 

He’s glad it’s Doriane beside him and not Sergi, because he’s got a feeling she’ll be a lot easier to convince to enact a stupid plan than he would be. So when the patrols are about equidistant from them, he turns to whisper his plan to her. And once again, their masks present no issue when it comes to silent communication. He can feel judgement radiating off Doriane as she stares at him like he’s insane, but she nods her head, and Kimi will take that as a win.

 

They wait two more rotations, memorising the patterns of the soldiers that pass them by and counting the seconds between one pair rounding the corner and the next being sighted, before Kimi finally nods his head to Doriane as the third begins to approach. His heart is in his throat and he feels sick to his stomach. They’ve got one shot at this, or they’re going to be in a worse situation than they were in Singapore. 

 

Kimi can hear his blood pulsing through his body, throbbing in his ears, as he watches the pair of soldiers march steadily closer to them. Beneath his gloves his palms are desperately sweaty and he’s shaking. One wrong move and they’re dead. Not just that, but no one will know what the Hornet is doing. Maybe Sergi, Esteban, and Pedro - the human - could still work together to stop him, but they won’t know. 

 

He can’t think about that though, not now. All he can think about is the two soldiers coming towards him. Doriane’s right hand slipping into his left, and Kimi squeezing tightly to silently give her the signal when it’s time to act.

 

In unison they both raise their arms and shoot out their webs, synthetic and natural working almost identically, smothering the mouths and noses of the soldiers approaching them. They have to work quickly to make sure that they aren’t caught, and to make sure they don’t kill them. Both he and Doriane pull the soldiers behind the tree they’re using to conceal themselves and they make sure they’re both appropriately subdued before they dare to remove their webs. A quick check that they’re still breathing - suffocated for just long enough to leave them unconscious - and it’s game on as they go about stripping the uniforms off their bodies and pulling them over their own suits. There isn’t time to undress and change fully, which means they both just have to look absolutely ridiculous. If the situation wasn’t so desperate, Kimi might laugh at how Doriane looks - and Doriane might laugh at how he looks - but there’s no time for something like that. Instead they have a job to do.

 

They both use their webs to restrain the soldiers behind the tree, hiding them in the foliage in the hopes that they won’t be found until they’re long gone. For the second half of October it’s unseasonably warm, which at least means that these poor soldiers won’t be left shivering in their underwear on the dirt. 

 

Doriane shushes him urgently and Kimi halts moving entirely, heart still beating far too fast in his chest, and they listen to the next patrol pass by. This is taking longer than Kimi would’ve liked it to, and now he’s terrified that someone is going to notice that they’re out of sync with where they should be, but he doesn’t have time to worry about that right now. Not when they’re both crouching back down to pick up the weapons that’ve been abandoned. Having a gun on his hip feels good, even if there’s no chance in Hell that the Hornet doesn’t have bulletproof armour. It at least makes him feel safer, even if that safety is nothing more than an illusion.

 

“Next time, we go,” Doriane whispers, and Kimi nods. 

 

[YOU LOOK HANDSOME, SILVER SPIDER!]

 

It’s clear that the messages from Pedro show up on both of their suits, because Doriane has to stifle a giggle - and because Pedro very quickly sends a second message.

 

[YOU ALSO LOOK HANDSOME, FRIEND DORIANE!]

 

That gets a nod of approval, but their attention is back on the mission before long. Another pair of soldiers march past, and after waiting as long as they possibly can the two of them emerge from their hiding position behind the tree and begin to march alongside each other. It’s not entirely convincing - their postures aren’t quite rigid enough to be soldiers, nor are their movements aligned as they should be - but all they have to hope is that it’s enough to get them past the checkpoint without an issue. With any luck, the soldier on duty will be tired and unprepared, not closely monitoring the intervals at which patrols approach them, and won’t think that anything is amiss.

 

As they’re passing by, torchlight washes over both of their faces, and there’s no time to think about whether or not their cover has been broken. They have to assume the worst. But before Kimi can jump to action, several things have already happened.

 

1. Doriane has produced a wrench. Kimi doesn’t know where she’s gotten it from.
2. Pedro has leapt off his shoulder and onto the face of the soldier in front of them.
3. Doriane has covered the soldier’s mouth with her web.
4. Doriane has stepped forward and clobbered the soldier’s head with the wrench.

 

He stands where he is, dumbstruck that between them they’ve managed to react faster and more effectively than he has, and Pedro lands on Doriane’s shoulder as the soldier slumps to the ground with a heavy thud.

 

[EXCELLENT REFLEXES, FRIEND DORIANE!]

 

Kimi nods his silent approval, but doesn’t stand still for long. He moves to grab the soldier by the feet - Doriane grabbing his hands - and in a joint effort they manage to manoeuvre his body back into the small checkpoint station. Just in the nick of time, as the next patrol rounds the corner. Doriane stays low - crouched down low enough that she can’t be seen - whilst Kimi stands and looks alert until they’ve passed by. Reaching the checkpoint gives them enough time to catch their breath and prepare for the next dash to the buildings, and as Kimi returns to counting out the seconds between patrols emerging he hears something beneath him. 

 

Doriane is coughing again, spluttering louder than is helpful. She’s got her hands over her mask where her mouth would be but he can still hear her, and that’s a problem. Kimi kicks her lightly to let her know that another patrol is coming and he hears her take a sharp breath and hold it. So he does her the mercy of giving her another light kick when she can breathe again, and that’s followed by another coughing fit. It concerns him, more than just because she’s going to give them away, and he grabs a bottle of water that the previous soldier manning the checkpoint would’ve used. He leans down to give it to her and lets her compose herself, keeping an eye on her as she pulls off her mask and gulps the water down voraciously. 

 

“You stay here,” he tells her firmly. “Stand up and don’t do anything suspicious. I’ll come and get you when it’s time to leave.”

 

Doriane nods, pausing drinking to take a breath before she goes back to finishing the water. It’s a conversation they need to have, but it’s one that can wait for later. She can take care of herself whilst she mans the checkpoint - better than leaving it empty and risking the alarm being raised by a passing patrol - and so when the time is right Kimi can continue on towards the buildings. He hopes, against all the odds, that he’s not going to need Doriane or Pedro in the next few minutes. 

 

The closer he gets to the building, the stronger his wrist tingles. Whatever is happening, it’s here. He knows it. The Hornet is just on the other side of these walls - all he has to do is get in.

 

Kimi ducks behind the building, tucking himself away where the patrols won’t be able to see him. He trusts that Pedro is still messing with the cameras - he’ll trust that until alarms start going off - and so he can take a moment to breathe. There’s windows that he has to be careful of, but no one appears to be looking out of them right now.

 

A quick check of the pockets on his uniform is enough to confirm that he’s swiped more than just clothes. There’s a handful of dollar bills, a pen knife, an elastic band and, most important, a pass. He takes it from his pocket and turns it over in his fingers, investigating. Tonight he is playing the part of Reo, an E-4 Specialist, whatever that means. 

 

What it does mean, as he walks confidently over to a door and waves the pass out to the scanner, is that he’s got access to the buildings. That’s all he cares about.

 

Kimi closes the door quietly behind him. The building is utterly empty, and he’s got a strange feeling about that. Even in the middle of the night he feels like there should be someone here. If there’re people patrolling the grounds, why would the buildings themselves not have a skeleton crew for the night? What if there was an emergency call? This is the military! They have to be ready for everything! An empty building is worse than one with people in. He swallows back his nerves and forces himself onwards, careful that every step is quiet as a mouse as he lets his gut lead him deeper into the building.

 

When he does find people, he supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised.

 

It’s just like Montreal. They’re unconscious. 

 

The Hornet is here. 

 

Kimi doesn’t expect anyone to wake up any time soon, and he can breathe safely thanks to his mask, so he makes his way through the halls and follows the unconscious soldiers up a flight of stairs. There’s a flickering light in an otherwise dark corridor, and at the very end of the hall there’s a door that’s ajar and light that’s pouring out. He can hear a conversation, too. He’s too far away to pick up any distinct words or phrases, but that’s where he’s got to go. He knows it.

 

He creeps forward slowly, terrified that his heartbeat is going to give him away. It’s deafening in his skull, it feels impossible that no one else can hear just how loud it is. His boots feel too loud, his suit feels too loud, his disguise feels too loud. Everything feels too loud. Kimi’s about halfway down the corridor when he comes to a halt, stopping dead in his steps thanks to an almighty scream.

 

It’s loud enough that Kimi can practically run the next few steps without being heard, pausing only when he gets to the open doorway and slowly leaning forward to peek around the doorframe. And what he sees… Well, it doesn’t surprise him. Not in the slightest.

 

The Hornet standing over a soldier, decorated with insignias to denote his rank. There’s medals on his uniform, enough signs to tell Kimi that he’s clearly someone very important. Someone that’s close to - if not at - the top of the food chain here. He’s got a syringe in his arm, and Kimi’s eyes widen. 

 

He doesn’t know the full extent of what that serum did to him. He’s not sure if the tiniest drop is enough to have complete control over someone, or if a substantial dose is the only way to do that. He’s not sure if there’s a limit to how long people will be under the Hornet’s influence, if they’ll ever escape, if they’ll suffer some awful fate, but he does know that the Hornet trying to control a high ranking official of the United States military is nothing short of awful.

 

Actually, it’s magnitudes beyond awful.

 

But it’s not something that Kimi can do anything about, realistically. Not on his own. Not after Baku and Singapore. The last two times he’s tried to do some good he’s either failed entirely, or almost been killed. He needs backup, he needs weapons, he needs… He needs to tell Sergi, and Bono, and Toto. He needs to get as much help as he can and he needs to get it quickly.

 

Kimi doesn’t hang around much longer.

 

He turns on his heels, running as fast as he can, leaving the building at a rate of knots and darting straight towards the checkpoint. He doesn’t care if anyone sees him now, not with the weight of knowledge like this on his shoulders. He doesn’t think about returning the stolen uniform or pass, he doesn’t think about anything other than getting back to the hotel as quickly as he possibly can and telling the team what he’s learned. He just barely remembers to flag down Doriane - who upon seeing him running has already joined him in fleeing without thought or reason.

 

He’s not sure how they make it out without being seen - or if they are seen, he’s not sure how they make it out without being shot a dozen times each - but they do. They swing, and they run, and hitch a lift on the back of a truck until they’re in a dense enough part of the city to swing again. Kimi keeps an eye on Doriane and makes sure she’s sticking close behind him, gesturing for her to follow him as they make it back to the hotel. When he lands on the balcony he waits for her to join him before heading inside, pulling off his mask and tossing it to one side as his mind races. 

 

No. Racing isn’t at all adequate to describe what’s happening in his head right now. Kimi paces the room, taking off his gloves, peeling off the military uniform and throwing it into a pile before he sits down on the edge of his bed and puts his head in his hands. He tugs at his hair and he thinks. Now that they’re not at risk of being caught and he doesn’t have to think about survival, every brain cell can be dedicated to what he saw. The consequences of it. Except the consequences, right now, are broad. Controlling the military could mean anything. Maybe he wants something, maybe he’s trying to infiltrate, maybe–

 

His thoughts come to an abrupt halt as Doriane starts to cough again and his head snaps up to look at her. 

 

Whilst he’s grateful for the fact that it silences the rest of his thoughts, he doesn’t like the fact that she disappears into the bathroom to splutter. The cough builds, becoming so intense that it almost sounds like she’s coughing up a lung, and Kimi feels compelled to get to his feet and follow her in. He finds her gripping the porcelain sink with one shaky hand, the other cupped as she catches cold water flowing from the faucet in her palm and drinks it desperately. Kimi watches on until she looks up and catches his reflection staring at her in the mirror, and he watches as she turns off the tap, straightens, and dabs her mouth dry with a towel like nothing is wrong at all.

 

“Doriane?” 

 

She shakes her head and offers Kimi a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes - one that he’s accustomed to giving to journalists in the media pen when he’s had a less than stellar result. He can see right through her, but she’s keeping her lips firmly shut. He could push her, but what kind of a hypocrite would that make him? 

 

“I should go back to my room,” she says simply.

 

“Take my clothes,” Kimi tells her.

 

Doriane nods, leaving the bathroom behind and venturing back into the main room of the hotel. She doesn’t need an invitation to fish around in his suitcase for a pair of jeans - baggy on her - and a t-shirt - far too long. She just pulls them over her suit rather than getting changed, and she nods a quiet thanks to Kimi as she walks to the door.

 

“I’ll give them back tomorrow,” she promises.

 

And then Doriane leaves without another word, which leaves Kimi reeling. His head, once again, starts to spin. Thoughts of the Hornet and thoughts of Doriane plague him. He doesn’t leave his mind until there’s a gust of wind that makes the curtains whip into the room sharply. Kimi blinks, suddenly aware of his body and his surroundings, and he gets back up to close the door to the balcony and start going through his night routine. It’s late, he’ll have to wait until morning to tell someone about what he’s seen. The tingling in his wrist has at least faded, which tells him that the threat has abated. Whatever the Hornet was up to, it’s clearly part of a larger, longer term plan. Telling people can wait a few hours, that’s what he tells himself anyway.

 

Kimi closes the door and it snaps shut loudly. Loudly enough that he spots a flash of something feathery flying away when he closes the curtains properly. He thinks nothing of it, and he goes to bed.

 

+ + + 

 

Austin, United States of America
Sunday 19 October 2025

 

The problem with race days is that they’re inherently busy. Kimi’s schedule is packed, he’s timetabled down to the minute. There’s barely enough time to get from the fan stage to hospitality to do a piece of media and then to his final strategy meeting with Bono and the engineering team, let alone enough time to pin down his boss to reveal what he saw last night. He tries, but whenever he thinks he’s managed to get Toto, Sergi, or Bono alone he’s pulled away to do something else that he’d forgotten about. 

 

After the race is over, he’ll tell them. He hates that he keeps having to delay it, but he’s got no choice. At least when the race is done he can get them all together and they can sit down and come up with a plan there and then, no one will be excused or distracted, they can just brainstorm late into the night until they have a solution.

 

That mental reassurance is the only reason he can go through his day. It’s the only reason he can vaguely convince Esteban during the driver parade not to ask questions that might be too revealing. It’s the only reason he can climb into the car, with a knowing gaze from his trainer who offers him a thumbs up that he manages to return nervously.

 

At least getting into the car is a sure fire way of blocking out the rest of the world. The moment he’s plugged into the radio and the sound of music and cheers is drowned out, the Hornet doesn’t exist. The Wasp doesn’t exist. Nothing exists but himself, his machinery, and the 3.4 mile ribbon of black tarmac beneath him. He basks in the grip his tyres give him on the formation lap, how easy it is to get his brakes up to temperature, and he lets Bono’s calm voice wash over him as he tells him about his clutch, about how many burnouts to do on his way to the grid, about when Gabriel pulls up to the final slot on the grid.

 

It’s going to be a simple race. An enjoyable one. There’s no rain forecast and the plan is to try and prolong his stints as much as possible to get a nice delta for the end of the race. Now that he’s forgotten anything that doesn’t pertain to racing, he can relax and have fun. And, as things go, it’s a great race. His strategy is perfect. Going long means that when Carlos and Nico come together a perfectly timed safety car is exactly what he needs to get up onto the podium. In the moment, it feels amazing, but by the time he’s made it back to the pits his heart has sunk. Third place as a rookie is nothing to scoff at. Sure it’s not a win, but George has finished behind him. The thing is, it’s just a burden. It’s more duties, more time spent in the paddock after the race that should be spent thinking about the Hornet and what he’s doing. Sometimes he wishes he could just tell the world who he is - maybe the FIA would let him out of the post-race conferences if they knew he was trying to save the world.

 

No. They wouldn’t. He’d somehow still get a fine and they’d work out a way to ban him from racing because superpowers put him at some kind of advantage to the rest of the field. If only they knew how much harder he had to work. They can just show up and race, he’s got to show up, race, fight off a villain, try not to get brainwashed or lose a limb, and shoulder the weight of the entire world’s fate. It’s pretty stressful!

 

Despite the temptation to bait the ire of the Americans, Kimi knows he needs his wits about him, and he elects not to let a drop of champagne pass his lips on the podium. He still celebrates, still cheers, still gives the team the photos they need for their social media. He looks out at the crowd that cheers for him, and he spots the people he cares about most of all standing before him. His parents, side by side with Bono and Sergi, only a few steps away from Toto and Susie. Maggie and Jack are busy chatting away, not paying too much attention to the podium themselves, whilst Doriane and George are whooping at the top of their lungs to hype him up. He clinks his bottle of champagne with both Ferrari drivers to congratulate them - quickly getting control of the Italian urge to cheer for them more than himself - before he scurries away to change into something less sticky before his media duties.

 

The answers Kimi gives during the conference are just long enough to keep people happy, but not so long that he stretches it out any longer than it needs to be. He crosses his legs and moves his thumb back and forth over his ankle, massaging it subtly to try and rid himself of a lingering ache. Sergi has truly worked miracles for him to be fit enough to drive the car this weekend, but the last thing he wants to do is to strain it now and find himself benched for Mexico. 

 

Eventually he manages to retreat from the hubbub of activities that have been added to his to-do list after a podium. The social media team seem to notice the tiredness in his eyes and give him as little extra work to do as possible, and he’s deeply thankful for it. Especially when at last he’s able to grab Toto by the arm and drag him into his office. 

 

Kimi’s here often enough, but it’s not often at all that he’s the one that feels in charge. Toto seems confused, though he takes the hint by virtue of the fact that they’re in his office and he goes to sit behind his desk whilst Kimi locks the door behind them. When he turns back around he draws on the energy he has left in him after a long race and a draining few hours of media, and storms towards Toto with an attitude that he hopes demonstrates the severity of the situation. He slams his hands down on his desk, leaning forward with a sense of urgency he’s not sure he’s ever displayed, but he has to get his point across. He has to make Toto understand.

 

“He’s got the army,” he says. “The Hornet, I saw him, he used the serum on a soldier. I don’t know what he is going to do.”

 

His voice cracks a little and Kimi curses inwardly, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on whether or not he’s believed. Toto nods his head solemnly and proceeds without question, and Kimi feels his body sag with relief. Tension ebbs out of his tight muscles as he sits down in the chair opposite Toto. He’s grateful for a team that trusts him so completely - if it wasn’t for Toto and Sergi (and now Bono, too), Kimi wouldn’t have managed half of what he’s done. Without the likes of Doriane, Esteban, and Pedro - the human - he’d still be stuck under the Hornet’s thumb. 

 

Toto opens a little drawer and reaches into his desk, taking out a small vial of liquid and placing it on the desk in front of him. Kimi eyes it curiously.

 

“We used that on you,” he explains. “To bring you back. Take it.”

 

Kimi nods. He understands what he’s being asked to do. He can do it. Toto slides a syringe across the desk too, and Kimi takes them both. He pockets them without another word - he doesn’t have time to talk more. If he’s lucky, it’s just going to be a case of heading back to Camp Mabry, though he has a feeling that security might have been ramped up in the wake of three unconscious soldiers found covered in web, with two of them stripped down to their underwear and their belongings stolen. But if the soldier isn’t at Camp Mabry, then Kimi has no idea where he’ll be, and that presents a whole new kind of challenge.

 

He gets to his feet quickly, muttering a quiet thank you to Toto. If he can do this in time, then they don’t have to come up with a plan to combat the Hornet because Kimi will have stopped him from doing whatever it is he’s trying to do - something that’s infinitely better than the alternative. He just needs to change into his suit quickly and move. As long as there’s no tingling in his wrist, he isn’t too late.

 

It doesn’t take him long at all to get back to his driver room, slamming the door shut as he places the vial and syringe down on the side and reaches for his backpack to take his suit out. His fingers are just running over the purple fabric when there’s a knock at the door.

 

“Hey, Kimi!”

 

Shit. George. And he’s just slammed his door, so there’s no way he can just stay still and pretend he isn’t here. George will know that he entered the room by virtue of the fact that he didn’t spot him running down the corridor, so he’s cornered. He doesn’t have time for this!

 

“Ciao, George,” he calls back.

 

Any hope that George might leave is immediately thrown out the window as the handle is pushed down. Drivers seem to have no sense of privacy or personal space. All Kimi can do is push his suit further down into his bag to make sure it isn’t seen, and cross his fingers that this interaction doesn’t last too long. And that George doesn’t figure out what’s going on.

 

“I just wanted to come and congratulate you on the podium, mate,” he grins from ear to ear. “You deserved it. It was a great race.”

 

For the briefest of moments, Kimi forgets that he’s annoyed that George is here. Sure, there are much more pressing things that he needs to attend to, but praise from his teammate about his racing will never stop him from feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s a small respite from the dread that’s otherwise consuming him.

 

“Thanks, George,” he says sincerely.

 

“We’re only a couple of points behind McLaren now,” George recalls, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. “I reckon we can come out in front next weekend. Be a good way to end the double header.”

 

Kimi nods curtly. George is making it clear that he’s not in a rush to leave, but Kimi would really, really like it if he would hurry on his way. 

 

“It should be enough for Toto to re-sign you for next season. And look, I know you can’t drink, but do you want to–”

 

George stops mid-sentence, his face dropping, and Kimi wonders what he might have seen. What could’ve possibly caught his attention?! Everything is in his bag, there’s no way that he could’ve been caught, except–

 

“Kimi, what is that?”

 

He follows his gaze, and he kicks himself mentally. The only thing he could be looking at - other than his sweat drenched balaclava and his fireproofs - is the antidote and syringe that Toto’s just given him.

 

“Kimi,” George says, his voice suddenly very stern and serious. “Please tell me you’re not doping.”

 

Oh, thank God! Kimi practically laughs through his sigh of relief, shaking his head as George’s eyes bore into him. He thought he’d figured it out, instead he’s just gone full GPDA Director on him. That’s a far easier situation to deal with

 

“No, I’m clean,” he assures. “I gave a sample this morning, they’d know if I was…” He mimes injecting into his veins.

 

He does need a convincing lie, though, or George is going to keep asking questions and threaten to report him. And he has a terrible feeling that if George did report him, the FIA would find out about his powers, and that doesn’t sound like something that would go over all too well.

 

“It’s just insulin,” he settles on eventually. 

 

Because that’s convincing, right? It’s something that explains away the syringe without more questions, and it implies a medical condition that George isn’t exactly going to demand evidence of. It’s one of his better lies. He’s actually quite pleased with it. And by the looks of George’s expression, he’s fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker. He doesn’t seem to have associated the delay in answering was because he was trying to think of a good lie, rather that he was weighing up whether or not to disclose such personal information. He almost feels bad with how easy it was to trick George like this. There’s a much softer look on his face now, and he gets to his feet and approaches slowly to place a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Mate, I had no idea,” he admits, a hand running over his face. “God, I’ve been such a shit teammate haven’t I? I don’t know you’re diabetic, I didn’t realise you’d lost a finger. I thought I was observant until I met you, I reckon I might be blind as a bat!” He laughs.

 

Kimi laughs with him, even if he doesn’t entirely understand the new Britishism that’s been presented to him, because if he doesn’t laugh that’s just going to make this take longer, and he really needs him to leave. 

 

“No wonder you needed the sweets in Belgium. I thought you were just being a dick, but you were unwell…” 

 

Hearing George thinking out loud about what happened before makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to be reminded of that time right now. 

 

“Tell you what, I’ll make sure you’ve got a bag in your room every weekend for the rest of the year. Just knock on my door if you need a refill, I won’t say anything to anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

The kindness that George is showing him just fills him with guilt. Having to lie to him when he’s done nothing but be supportive feels awful. He swallows and nods his thanks, and George finally gives him the privacy he’s been looking for as he leaves with one final congratulations on his podium. It means that Kimi can finally change into his suit, stripping down and pulling it over his body as quickly as possible. There’s still no tingles yet, but that’s–

 

That’s his mind speaking too soon.

 

His heart plunges into the very depths of his stomach. He’s late, but he won’t let this become another Baku. He won’t be too late to stop the Hornet and the Wasp this time. He’ll find that man from last night, he’ll give him the antidote, and everything will be okay. He might not have time to locate Doriane or to return to his hotel to collect Pedro, but he can do it right this time. 

 

Kimi sneaks out of hospitality like he’s used to, grateful for the long shadows the setting sun provides. The track being in the middle of nowhere means there’s nothing in the way of tall buildings to swing from - other than the observation tower - so he has to dance his way out of the paddock to avoid being seen by the exodus of mechanics and fans. As much as he needs to move quickly, he has to avoid drawing any attention to himself. The last thing he needs is for the police or military to pursue him again in the name of that Interpol warrant. 

 

When he finally makes it to a place where he feels as if he can’t be seen, he starts to run. His gut is taking him away from the city which, whilst it means there’s no traffic for him to catch a ride on, fills him with a great sense of relief. Whatever is happening, it’s not happening in a densely populated area. He isn’t going to have to protect a crowded city street, he just needs to handle whatever is happening in an arable field. That isn’t to say that bad things can’t happen in fields, but that it’s going to be an awful lot easier to deal with.

 

He runs without stopping for several miles, following the curves of the landscape as it undulates beneath his boots. He runs up and down small slopes, through fields of wheat and pastures of cattle, eventually following the winding path of a narrow creek as the sun sets ever lower. His mind fills with possibilities, what ifs driving him mad, but he tries to be rational and reasonable. All he needs to do right now is find the man from last night and give him the antidote. If he’s quick enough, that’s all he’s ever going to have to do. If he isn’t… Anything else is a bonus, and anything he can’t do means he just has information to take back to the team and plan their next moves together. 

 

The feeling in his gut is getting stronger, though he doesn’t need that to tell him when he’s reached his destination. It’s painstakingly obvious, when he slides to a halt on a dirt road at the bottom of a small incline. He throws himself onto the grass to keep himself hidden, crawling through it to slowly make his way further up, to get closer to the silhouettes he can see at the top of the slope. Despite the intense feeling in his body that would suggest something dreadful is happening, all he can see is a conversation. The Hornet and the Wasp are easily recognisable, but there’s a third silhouette too - he assumes it’s the man from the night before. But what gave them away from a distance is the vast number of ‘bees’ in the sky, flying together like they’re in a murmuration.

 

There’s little he can do to deduce what’s happening from this distance, so he just has to keep trying to get closer without being detected. He keeps himself hidden, he moves slowly, trying to inch closer and catch a few words on the wind. Even with his suit, it’s impossible to hear what’s being said. But the conversation itself doesn’t seem particularly extravagant. No one is overly animated, gesturing as they talk. There’s the occasional laugh, but that’s as interesting as it gets. It’s just a conversation. 

 

Except as he gets closer, he starts to feel something in his chest. A dread more potent than he’s ever experienced. It’s in his bones, makes him shiver, and feels more ominous than anything he’s felt before.

 

Kimi has learned a lot over the last few months. He’s learned how to deal with hostage situations, how to blow up refineries, and how to stitch wounds. He’s figured out how to swim through sinking yachts and how to navigate the complexities of falling in love with a secret identity. Trusting his gut has been a key component in all of this, and his gut has never, ever sent him such glaring warning signs of danger. It’s like the world itself is reaching out, the blades of grass grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him.

 

This place is not a place of honour. No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here. Nothing valued is here. What is here is dangerous and repulsive.

 

The words wrap around him like a heavy, lead blanket, but Kimi ignores it. He has to ignore it. He has to push forward.

 

His suit isn’t at all pleased with what’s happening as warning messages start to appear in his peripheral vision, but Kimi ignores them in favour of getting closer to the men and the Swarm. Whatever is happening here, it’s clearly important. They’ve come so far from the city, picked a place deliberately isolated where they won’t be seen talking, and his gut and his suit are trying in vain to send him away - he has to hear what’s going to be said. 

 

Kimi freezes in the grass when a ‘bee’ flies close to him, hoping against all the odds that he won’t be spotted where he lies. His heart is in his throat and try as he might he can’t swallow it down, his eyes staring directly up at the little drone. 

 

It’s different.

 

He can’t place why it’s different just yet.

 

It flies away. 

 

Kimi can breathe again. He closes his eyes and leans his head down, pressing it against the firm soil beneath him. Perhaps if he doesn’t bother himself with looking, he can hone his sense of hearing and do a better job of making out the words that are being said a few dozen feet away from him. The wind, irritatingly, is blowing over his legs and up towards his head, carrying their voices in the opposite direction. To move now would leave him exposed, he can’t take that risk.

 

He exhales slowly, scrunching his closed eyes shut even more tightly.

 

“-- and any prolonged exposure will be enough to kill someone?” 

 

“Certainly. An explosion would take out a block or more. If they don’t realise they’re being exposed, a few hours of being within the vicinity of one of these ‘bees’ will kill them within a week. Even with care, if they realise what’s happened in time to receive that care, a few hours will kill fifty percent of people.”

 

“And you?”

 

“I’ll be dead by midnight.”

 

Kimi’s eyes are wide open in an instant, the antidote at his side suddenly feeling like it’s burning through his suit. Is he really too late? Is there really nothing that he can do?! He tilts his head back slowly, just enough so that his cameras can see what’s going on and relay the information to the screen in his mask. Another ‘bee’ flies over to him, and this time he notices what’s different.

 

Its eye is glowing bright, irradiated green. 

 

As Kimi tries to process the clues he’s being given, wracking his brain for any answer that doesn’t fill him with an unprecedented horror, he hears the awful sound of retching followed by something wet. Kimi looks in the direction of the three men and watches as the soldier from yesterday falls to his hands and knees, throwing up acidic bile on the dirt beneath him. Even from a distance, Kimi can see the way that it splashes back and hits his face. It’s revolting, and it doesn’t stop. Even retch is followed by another, then another, then another. Even when his body grows weak and his stomach is empty, it doesn’t stop him from coughing and spluttering, spitting out saliva onto the ground as he shakes. He must’ve been poisoned. He knows whatever the Hornet injected him with hasn’t done this - he wasn’t sick after Silverstone - which means that something else has happened to him in the last twenty four hours.

 

“Well, thank you for your service,” the Hornet’s voice drawls sarcastically. “You’ve been an excellent help.”

 

From the angle he’s hiding at, Kimi can see the Hornet raise a foot and place it on the man's back, pushing his body down into his own vomit even as he continues to suffer. Kimi can’t move any more, not now, watching carefully as he sees the Hornet and the Wasp begin to walk away with the Swarm following behind them. Thankfully, they move in the opposite direction that Kimi is hiding in, and he remains undetected as they leave. 

 

He waits for as long as he can, but the moans and groans of the man left on the ground are a reminder that he can’t sit and wait forever. He has to do something. Maybe he was exaggerating, and maybe there’s still time for him to help. When he scrambles up from the grass he puts a plan together in his mind. He’ll inject him with the antidote and then carry him back to the track. There’ll still be helicopters there, which means he can quickly be returned to the city for urgent medical treatment. He’ll be fine, right?! 

 

Kimi drops to his knees beside him, taking the antidote from his side and drawing as much as he can into the syringe. 

 

“Sir,” he says softly, trying to project calm and control over the situation. “Sir, it’s okay, you’re going to be alright,” he assures him.

 

When he reaches out to turn his body over, making it easier to inject the antidote into his arm, he feels warm. Even through his gloves, the man feels warm. It’s almost impossible to believe that a few minutes ago he was speaking and acting normally, but now he’s barely responsive and with a fever high enough that it should be killing him. There are very few things in the world that can kill a person this quickly, and none of them are good. Certainly, none of them are things the Hornet or the Wasp should be able to get their hands on.

 

As Kimi tries to sit the man upright he feels his body stiffen up and begin to shake. His pupils have dilated and his movements are utterly uncontrollable. Kimi lays him back down on the ground quickly, realising that he is a long, long way out of his depth. He doesn’t have the medical knowledge to understand what’s happening, let alone to know how to help. It looks like he’s having a seizure and he doesn’t know how to stop it. Is this normal? Is this a symptom? Is he dying? Is he okay?!

 

When he stops moving, there’s nothing to suggest that he’s okay.

 

“Sir?” Kimi asks quietly, reaching for him again and slipping a hand down to grab his wrist. 

 

With his forefinger and middle finger he searches desperately for a pulse, shaking as he tries, but there’s nothing. He’s still, and hot, and smells of vomit and something else that’s just as awful.

 

His suit begins to fire more warnings at him, warnings that he can’t ignore, warnings that strike fear into his very bones and turn his blood to ice.

 

The danger is to the body, and it can kill.

 

Kimi gets to his feet to run. He has to get away from this place. The longer he’s here, the more danger he’s in. If his suit is warning him about it, then that means his suit isn’t protecting him fully. Without protection from his suit, he doesn’t know if he’s safe or if he’s just minutes away from meeting the same fate as that man before him. It feels awful to have to leave his corpse behind, but what other option does Kimi have? 

 

He runs the way he came, not stopping even when his head starts to ache, not stopping even when he starts to shiver. The one thing he can take as a comfort, trying to reason with himself, is that the dose probably isn’t that high. The soldier that died likely handed the material, that’s almost certainly what the Hornet needed him for. He was exposed to a much higher dose, at a much closer range, for a much longer period of time. A few minutes by the upgraded Swarm would be enough to make Kimi unwell, but if he can find something with iodine in it he might just be okay.

 

By the time he makes it back to the paddock, he’s really starting to feel it. It’s late now, the area mercifully empty, and the few people he runs within sightlines of seem to pay little attention to him. If someone discovers his identity now, so be it. Stopping and keeping to the shadows might be the difference between living with the fallout of his identity being revealed, and dropping dead before he can get any help.

 

He makes it to his driver room - relieved beyond all stretches of the imagination that George has already packed up his things and left - and to the toilet just in time to fall to his knees and grab the bowl as he throws up. It’s not as violent as the man that just died in front of him, nor is it as everlasting. It’s a one off, and he flushes it away as he wipes a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. 

 

He’s warm.

 

Kimi groans as he pushes himself back to his feet, shaking with effort, or exhaustion, or maybe just fear, as he steps back out into the space of the room proper. He reaches for his phone, sending a quick text to Sergi, unsure of how coherent it is. But his trainer knows him better than anyone, and he’ll know better than anyone what it is that he needs right now. Sergi knows everything about the body, and everything about his body specifically. If anyone can decode whatever text he’s just sent and save him before it’s too late, it’s going to be Sergi. 

 

He spends the time it takes his trainer to respond by peeling off his suit and reaching for a pair of shorts, pulling them over his legs. He’s too hot for a t-shirt, even if he should finish getting dressed, and he just wants to lie down. So that’s what he does, he lies down and closes his eyes and waits. He hopes he’s not waiting long, that Sergi only takes a couple of minutes between receiving the text and knocking on his door, and by the time he’s managed to sit upright Sergi has already let himself in and is at his side. He hands Kimi a bottle of water and, without question, he drinks it.

 

Rather than feel his throat and body soothed by cool, refreshing water, he finds himself on the receiving end of a salty sensory assault. Kimi immediately spits the water out on the floor, body refusing to swallow it, his mouth dry and his lips coming together tightly as he reacts to what he’s just attempted to consume.

 

“Salt?!” He gasps, turning to look at his trainer.

 

He’s ready to start ranting and raving about it, but there’s no opportunity to do so. The moment he looks at Sergi he spots wide eyes staring back at him, his trainer’s jaw hanging open. Kimi almost doesn’t know why, until he realises that he’s still shirtless, and he’s very suddenly out of his mind and back in the real world. Being shirtless means that his shoulder, arm, and chest are on display, and Sergi is finally seeing what he’s been trying to hide for the last few months. 

 

Sergi snaps out of his own mind and he clears his throat, nodding to the bottle in Kimi’s hand.

 

“It’s ionized,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Drink as much as you can. We’ll get iodine supplements on the way back to the hotel.”

 

Kimi swallows and nods, doing exactly as he’s told in silence. The atmosphere around him has shifted and he doesn’t dare to speak another word, not when Sergi is so clearly trying to process a lot right now. There’s a reason he’s hidden it from everyone, though he’s starting to wonder if maybe he should have said something sooner. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s spreading, and whatever it is it’s not stopping. It was always going to be noticed at some point, it was just a matter of when. This is probably the worst time for it to happen.

 

“Andrea.”

 

The muttering of a name his trainer has never used jolts him. This is bad. This is worse than when Toto does it.

 

“It’s fine,” he says quickly - though Sergi’s face tells him he doesn’t buy it in the slightest. “I can explain.”

 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says firmly. “Put your shirt back on and pack your things.”

 

Kimi nods his head, taking another long swig of salt water and shoving the few belongings he has into his rucksack. As soon as it’s on his shoulders he’s being marched out of hospitality and out of the paddock. There’s going to be a conversation. A long one. 

 

At least if the radiation kills him, he doesn’t have to have that conversation.

Notes:

So :] How excited are we all for Abu Dhabi now? :]

Chapter 13: Issue 13: The Birds and the Bees

Austin, United States of America
Sunday 19 October 2025

 

The journey from the track to the hotel takes a lot longer than it usually does, despite the fact that fans and crew alike have already left. There’s no traffic on the roads, no construction works or car accidents that might hold them up. In fact, the only thing that’s changed at all is Kimi’s perception of the passage of time. The familiar journey feels so much longer than before because he feels every second tick by as his headache intensifies and his stomach cramps uncomfortably. Exposure to radiation, Kimi has concluded, is an awful experience.

 

Sergi stops at a 24-hour pharmacy, emerging with a few crucial supplies: iodine tablets, a bottle of water, and a bottle of Gatorade. Kimi takes the tablets with some water and then starts to sip on the Gatorade, restoring the electrolytes to his body that he’s already thrown up once. He has a feeling that he’ll be throwing up again in relatively short order, but he tells himself that the fact that his vomiting sessions are spread out are a good sign. Once the soldier had started throwing up he couldn’t stop, and then he died. Kimi’s body, therefore, seems a lot more likely to bounce back from this. Now that he’s had tablets that should stop his body from absorbing any more of the radiation that made its way into his system, he should be fine. Should be, anyway. Most studies into the effects of radiation on the body are based on bodies that haven’t been injected with all kinds of serums and antidotes, and haven’t been bitten by strange spiders that gave him superpowers. 

 

Kimi sighs. He needs to focus on the positives, not on the hypotheticals. He’s fine. He’s going to continue to be fine. Sergi is here, and as long as Sergi is with him then everything is okay.

 

It’s just before midnight that they arrive back at the hotel, and Kimi winces all the way from the car, through the lobby, and into the elevator. As soon as they make it back to his room - Sergi using his spare key card to let them both in - they find the dullest, smallest bulb to illuminate the room and Kimi shelters himself in the corner. He nurses the water and the Gatorade like it’s a Godly nectar, slowly sipping them both as if they alone will bring him back to life. Sergi’s given them to him and promised it’ll make him better, so they might as well be. 

 

The man in question is standing, pacing the room slowly, hands on his hips. Whenever he turns to pace towards him Kimi looks up to try and read his expression. He’s somewhere between stern and upset - falling more on the stern side when he finds the gun and military uniform stashed away, then more on the upset side when he looks over and is reminded of the darkness on his arm - and it makes him feel like a child about to be scolded by a parent. In Sergi’s defence, Kimi is fairly certain he believes it, what with the strange dark spot on his shoulder that’s gradually grown over the past six weeks to cover a considerable chunk of his body. It doesn’t make him feel any better, but it helps him rationalise it.

 

Eventually Sergi sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress shifting beneath him, and he looks back at Kimi with his expression forced into something much softer - though he can still see a sharpness in his eyes that he hasn’t managed to mask.

 

“So,” Sergi begins. “Do you want to explain it?”

 

Kimi could play dumb here and ask what exactly Sergi wants him to explain, but the radiation is more or less dealt with now, so he knows what his trainer means. He looks at his arm - wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time in weeks because there really wasn’t a point to hiding it anymore - and he shrugs. It’s an honest shrug.

 

“I don’t know,” he admits truthfully. “Ollie saw it after Monza, but it was just a little dot,” he pinches his thumb and forefinger together in demonstration. “It got bigger.”

 

If Sergi has any reaction to finding out this has been hidden from him for so long, he doesn’t show it. Years of working with Kimi has clearly taught him a thing or two about keeping a straight face, though usually that’s because he’s needed telling off for doing something that was objectively hilarious rather than because there’s a strange darkness spreading over him.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

Kimi shakes his head.

 

“It’s not even uncomfortable, really. I mean, I can feel it, eh? A little pinprick where you injected me,” he gestures to his shoulder. “But it just aches, and nothing else feels wrong, or bad. It’s just growing.” 

 

As he stares at his arm, he decides to prove his point further by poking it like you’d poke at a mysterious bruise. It feels just the same as it would’ve done months ago, or years ago, or right now if he reached over and poked his right arm. He knows that his answers are unsatisfying and that Sergi wants more information, but Kimi has nothing else to give him. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. It’d terrified him at first, admittedly, so he can’t blame Sergi for all the questions, but before he knew it he was back in the simulator, back in meetings with Bono and running pit stop practice with the crew, back fighting the Hornet… It never caused a problem, so it became easier and easier to ignore.

 

Until now, obviously.

 

“You know my training is going fine,” he defends himself and his decision to keep this a secret for so long. “I haven’t lost any strength, nothing else has happened to me, it just looks a bit… Different.” 

 

It’s possibly the understatement of the century, but Kimi’s desire to laugh vanishes the moment that he sees just how firm the gaze Sergi is giving him is.

 

“I want you to have blood tests.”

 

It’s a simple statement, one that leaves no room for argument, and Kimi nods his head obediently. Even if he’s managed to ignore it for the past few weeks, maybe he should’ve mentioned it sooner, maybe it’s good that someone knows and is taking it seriously. If something’s wrong with him, bubbling away under his skin, he’d quite like to know. His stomach churns again, and Kimi’s grip returns to the little plastic water bottle from the pharmacy, squeezing it tightly enough to make it crackle. 

 

With the topic of his arm addressed, it’s the perfect opportunity for Kimi to bring up what he’s learned today. He plays with the cap of the bottle anxiously, poking his tongue out and licking his lips as he braces.

 

“The ‘bees’ are nukes, now,” he explains simply.

 

He says the words with such a casual, throwaway tone that Sergi’s sitting bolt upright to process the information he’s given. His hands clasp together in front of him and he leans forward, and Kimi watches him out of the corner of his eye.

 

“What?” 

 

“The ‘bees’,” he repeats, offering nothing further. “They’re nukes.”

 

It’s fairly self explanatory, but repetition doesn’t seem to make things any clearer for Sergi. Kimi understands that. After all, it’s not clarity that Sergi is necessarily seeking, but reassurance. Reassurance that this is another one of those pranks he’ll have to tell him off for later, reassurance that he’s being dramatic or exaggerating things, but Kimi can’t provide any of that. Kimi can’t tell him that it’s all a joke, because it isn’t. Because the Hornet and the Wasp now possess nuclear weapons, and it changes everything. 

 

And they’re the ones that have to fix this.

 

“Alright.”

 

Sergi’s eventual response is lacklustre. He speaks with an exhale, eyes looking right through Kimi before he lowers his head into his hands and rubs at his eyes. He’s mentally exhausted, and Kimi can’t blame him for not having anything else to say right now. His previous fantasies of getting everyone around a table and figuring out a quick plan will never come to fruition now, because there’s no one in the world who could come up with a quick plan for nuclear disarmament of a crazed supervillain. This needs to be handled slowly, and sensitively, but whatever the Hornet is gearing up for, Kimi fears they don’t have a lot of time until it happens.

 

“I’ll tell Toto,” Sergi eventually continues, getting to his feet. “You need to rest.”

 

It’s rare that Sergi manages to win two conversations against Kimi without even the hint of an argument, but this evening is one such evening. Kimi does need to rest. He feels unwell and he’d really rather not die in a hotel room in Texas. So he pushes himself to his feet slowly, swaying back and forth a little as he prepares to move back over to his bed, before the urge to throw up returns. He drops the almost empty bottle and sprints past his trainer, pushing open the bathroom door with some force and skidding to a halt as he drops to his knees and leans over the toilet bowl to throw up again. 

 

Sergi follows him, kneels beside him, and rubs small circles on the small of his back. It’s comforting, and between wretches Kimi finds himself leaning into that comfort. He doesn’t feel so alone right now. Kimi’s going to give him one Hell of a bonus when Christmas comes around as a thanks for taking care of him this year.

 

The process of throwing up what little is left in his stomach doesn’t take more than a few minutes, but the sting of bile in his throat and the acidic smell in his nose makes it a rather unpleasant few minutes. After some dry heaving, his body figures out that there really isn’t anything left in him to discard, and he sinks back against the cool tile wall to take deep breaths. Kimi wipes his mouth lazily with his forearm and sniffles, closing his eyes as he feels Sergi place a glass into his hand and instruct him to drink. He’s told to only take small sips, so he does just that, as Sergi cleans up after him. 

 

“Kimi–”

 

He opens his eyes, tired and yearning for his bed, and he stares up at his trainer.

 

“You’re not telling me the truth.”

 

He frowns. There’s plenty of occasions where such an accusation would be true, and Kimi would’ve told a lie - or at the very least skirted the edge of the truth - but this isn’t one of them. He’s told Sergi everything about the radiation, about his arm, and he makes a disgruntled noise of protest to try and explain as much.

 

“Your sick, Kimi,” Sergi tells him flatly, his own frown almost chiselled into his features. “It’s black.” 

 

Alright. 

 

Cool.

 

It could be entirely normal. Maybe this is just a typical side effect of acute radiation sickness. Maybe his system will flush it out in a couple of hours and he’ll be perfectly fine by the time that he lands in Mexico. Or maybe, it isn’t a typical side effect. Maybe he won’t be okay in a few hours. Maybe it’s connected to his arm - the colours certainly suggest that the two are linked. 

 

Kimi doesn’t move, can’t really move if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, and he watches as Sergi leaves the bathroom then returns a few moments later with the box of tissues from the bedside table. He crouches down in front of Kimi and in the blink of an eye there’s tissues dabbing at his lips, his chin, anywhere there’s still traces of saliva, bile, and vomit. When Sergi pulls back, he can see that the tissues have been stained a deep, jet black.

 

For the last few months, Kimi’s been wearing a mask. He’s still wearing that mask now, but the cracks are beginning to show. Because whatever’s happening to him, whatever’s been happening to him, it clearly isn’t good. He’s frightened. His stomach twists and turns and his heart beats far too quickly in his chest. A thousand scenarios run through his mind, not a single one of them good, and he looks up at Sergi with all the anxiety he’s been trying to keep at bay threatening to spill over. 

 

“Sergi…” He whispers, his voice betraying him and cracking. “Am I… Dying?”

 

“I’ll never let that happen,” Sergi tells him matter-of-factly, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. 

 

Contact. It’s grounding. It’s a simple gesture but one that he desperately craves. He leans into the touch and lets it wash over him. Sergi is here. He is safe. 

 

“But I want your saliva tested too. First thing tomorrow morning, before we leave, and I’ll have it all sent off to the factory.” 

 

Kimi nods, sipping the last of his water as he tries to stop his spiralling mind before he loses himself. He doesn’t feel any different, aside from the (easily explained) headache, stomach ache, and low fever, but maybe he just can’t feel what’s wrong with him. Maybe whatever’s wrong with him is so all-encompassing that it’s seeped into his very bones and he can’t feel it anymore. Maybe he’s going to fall asleep tonight and never wake up again. And what happens to the world if he never wakes up? The Hornet has nuclear weapons! He can’t die now! 

 

The sound of the toilet being flushed brings him out of his own mind and Sergi is back at his side, helping him to his feet by wrapping an arm beneath his shoulder. Kimi leans against him, weak arms wrapping around his trainer’s torso, as he’s guided out of the bathroom and towards the bed. His body feels as if it’s well and truly done with being sick now, there isn’t even a hint of nausea left, which is more of a mercy than he can describe. 

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Sergi says.

 

He speaks in a way that’s steady and true, even if Kimi feels like it’s the furthest thing from the truth. He says it with certainty, as if by just saying it in such a sure way it’ll make it true. 

 

“But what if–”

 

“Don’t think about that, mate,” Sergi cuts him off. “We’re not thinking about that. You’ve been okay for the last six weeks, hm? So nothing’s changed just because I know now. You’ve taken the iodine, you’ll be alright tomorrow. You just need to hydrate and to rest. So, come on, it’s bedtime.”

 

He’s lowered onto the edge of the bed, and when Sergi offers to help him change into his pyjamas he just nods his affirmation. Kimi raises his arms when he’s asked to, Sergi removing his shirt and pausing for a moment to really take in just how far the darkness has spread across his body, before he fishes out his pyjama top from his luggage and helps him into it. When it comes to his shorts, the same happens, and Sergi pauses again. There’s no darkness there, just countless scars, evidence of the bruises, burns, and cuts he’s sustained over the last few months. Some days, Kimi feels more like a burial site than a person - it’s like more of him is dead than alive. 

 

“I don’t think about it a lot,” Sergi confesses sheepishly, helping Kimi to step into a pair of loose shorts. “But a year ago, you were just a kid.”

 

“I was eighteen,” Kimi corrects him, and Sergi hums.

 

“Barely,” he replies quietly, sitting back on the floor and looking up at Kimi.

 

It’s an uncomfortable position, and Kimi slides himself off the edge of the bed to join his trainer. He doesn’t want to be above him, it’s easier to talk like this.

 

“You were still so young. You are still so young. You’re nineteen, Kimi.”

 

Sergi finds his eyes, despite Kimi’s best attempts to avoid it, and he feels more seen than he’s used to. He’s exposed, vulnerable, and no amount of blinking can make that feeling go away. All he can do is look into Sergi’s eyes and feel… Overwhelmed. 

 

“I should’ve put a stop to this in Jeddah,” Sergi shakes his head. “As soon as I knew what you’d done, I should’ve stopped you.”

 

“You couldn’t,” Kimi points out. “Eh, think about what would’ve happened to the world?”

 

“I don’t care about the world, Kimi. Look at what’s happened to you.”

 

Kimi swallows. It’s something he actively tries to avoid, but with the growing darkness on his body the rest of it has become more difficult to ignore too. In the dead of night, when he’s alone and no one is around, when he can’t sleep for fear of another nightmare gripping him, he looks. He follows the dark veins under his skin and traces them, finding the deep valleys of scar tissue that line his arms. He plays with his mechanical finger, tapping it against whatever surface is closest, feeling how different and strange it is compared to his real fingers. A year ago he was a vain Italian teenager, obsessed with his looks and his charm, his charisma and silver tongue that could get him anything he wanted. He could flash a smile and have a girl on his arm, he could wink and have a bottle of champagne delivered to him on a tray. All of Italy knew the name Kimi Antonelli - their next Formula 1 superstar - and the world was his oyster. But now? Now when he looks in the mirror he sees someone disfigured, someone wrong. To someone that doesn’t know him, he probably looks frightening and unnatural. It’s difficult to cope with a change like that, especially after he’s been deliberately avoiding it for so long.

 

He doesn’t like to think about himself, so he doesn’t. And when he does, he pushes it down. The cycle continues and every time he glances in the mirror he finds himself feeling more detached from the reflection looking back at him. Even now, he’s determined to just hide those feelings as deep as he can.

 

But the fact of the matter doesn’t change whether he allows himself to think about it or not - he’s not the same anymore. The old Kimi is dead and buried underneath the Red Sea Mall in Jeddah, and the old Kimi is never going to come back.

 

In the light of day, Kimi wouldn’t change a thing. He’d save his friends and his family - and the rest of the world - a thousand times over. Without question. But sometimes, when he’s alone, when there’s no one there but himself and the stranger looking back at him in the mirror, he wonders what might have changed. How different would things have been if he’d just let it happen? How much would really change if he’d let governments, militaries, and law enforcement handle the Hornet and the Wasp? Maybe it would all be over by now. It probably would be - they have more money and resources than Mercedes could ever hope to be able to throw at him - but rather than do the sensible thing he just had to get involved. And now all of those responsible people stepped back and decided to place the safety of the world on the shoulders of a teenager without the ability to perceive risk or think critically about the things he’s doing.

 

He thinks back on the memories from his karting and single seater days, watching the echoes of himself growing up. He sees the light in their eyes, the hope and ambition carried with them in every step. He wonders what those versions of himself would think of him if they could see him now? Would they recognise him? Would they be afraid of him? Would they run back to their parents, crying about the monster under their bed? 

 

Kimi closes his eyes and sighs, pushing the thoughts back into the box in his head and jumping up and down to cram it all in. There’s no benefit to thought experiments like this, it just hurts. 

 

“It was the right thing to do,” he tells Sergi simply.

 

Kimi pushes himself up, the conversation well and truly over as far as he’s concerned, and he slides himself back into bed. Whilst he makes himself comfortable beneath the blankets, Sergi places another glass of water by his bed and some more iodine tablets for when he wakes up in the morning. For the briefest of moments, Kimi notices Sergi pause by his bed, and then he’s standing up and leaving like nothing ever happened.

 

“Wait,” Kimi says, his tired voice finding a second wind to make sure that he can stop Sergi in his tracks.

 

And he does, of course, because that’s what Sergi does. He folds to every request, he bends to every whim, and he does everything that Kimi could ever need or want from him. 

 

“Will you stay?” He asks softly. “Just tonight, please? I don’t want to… I’m scared.” 

 

It’s only partially the truth, and it’s another contender for understatement of the century, but it’s enough for Sergi to halt his progress entirely and nod. And when Sergi comes back to his side, he finds out why he hesitated before. His trainer reaches out with a hand, placing his fingers in his hair and brushing through his curls softly. The tug against his scalp is gentle but needed, and he closes his eyes contentedly. Kimi sinks back against his pillows, letting Sergi get himself ready for bed in relative peace, before he feels a shift as Sergi joins him. 

 

Kimi almost unconsciously moves closer to his trainer, still desperately searching for any amount of physical contact he can find. The way that Sergi’s arms embrace him is almost familial, and Kimi tries to make himself smaller to fit better. He can feel those echoes of himself clawing to get out of the box he’s put them in, aching for the warmth of a strong set of arms. The child in him with wonder still in his eyes, the lonely teenager with too many emotions to count, and the frightened but determined adult searching for a safe place to land in the streets of Saudi Arabia. They’re all clamouring for Sergi’s comfort, and as he’s squeezed tightly he feels every version of himself breathe a little bit easier.

 

Having someone by his side as he sleeps makes him feel infinitely safer. And right now, Kimi isn’t sure he would’ve made it through the night on his own.

 

+ + +

 

Mexico City, Mexico
Wednesday 22 October 2025

 

Mexico City is almost more chaotic than Kimi remembers it being. 

 

No, that isn’t true at all, it is more chaotic than Kimi remembers it being. It’s bright, and crowded, and loud. It’s everything his hotel room hasn’t been for the past forty-eight hours, and the adjustment is more difficult than he expected it to be. 

 

After a long sleep, Monday morning meant having his blood taken and giving saliva samples to Sergi. They’ve been sent straight back to Brackley, on a charter flight to London, and the results should be in by the weekend. But now, with the effects of his radiation sickness now a thing of the past, it’s back to work. He’s got to stop being a superhero and start being a Formula One driver - though today is nothing to do with driving. Today is all about media. It makes his head spin, how many different hats he has to wear, and for that reason he’s somewhat dissociated as he makes his way through the busy streets of the city.

 

There’s something new in every direction. Whether it’s tunes carried on the wind from bold brass instruments, or market stalls with every kind of spice known to man, or the sound of children’s laughter as they run around his knees, it catches his attention. He can hear the sounds of dogs barking and birds chirping, watching as brightly coloured avians fly just inches in front of his face as they search for their dinner. Stall holders shout about their wares, bells ring as people on bicycles try to make their way through the crowds, the distant sound of car horns blaring speaks volumes about just how congested the traffic is just a few streets away. 

 

It’s another week until the Day of the Dead festivities take place, but with the Grand Prix taking place in such close proximity the people of the city clearly know they have an expanded market to take advantage of. In every direction there are marigolds, more intensely yellow than the sun, or stands selling different kinds of food. The tourists are easy to pick out, all equally bamboozled by the intensity of the city, and Kimi’s sure he blends right in with them. Although, unlike them, he’s still wearing his long-sleeved t-shirt in an attempt to keep the darkness on his body between himself and Sergi. Certainly, George and the social media team don’t need to be aware of this. 

 

Their media team keeps pushing them forwards through the crowd, even as a few people recognise them and try their best to approach for autographs. They’re on a tight schedule, as they always are, and this video isn’t going to film itself. Kimi feels himself be pulled down a street lined with brightly coloured buildings, the team around him keeping him from becoming hopelessly lost, where things start to quieten somewhat. At least, the sounds of music become fainter and the chatter and shout of a busy square start to fade. Now his surroundings are a cacophony of cars and motorbikes, horns and shouts of road rage. The pleasant smell of spices has been replaced with the stench of diesel and fumes, so oppressive that it’s difficult to appreciate even as someone so fascinated and obsessed with cars. 

 

But these sounds too quickly become forgotten as they’re finally ushered into a small building - a beautiful little café, already filled with cameras and lights to best capture George and Kimi. That in and of itself has become a challenge for the media team as of late, because whilst George has remained as handsome as ever throughout the season - his jaw somehow finding a way to become even more defined and his hair even more luscious - Kimi’s aware that the same can’t be said for him. Even whilst his injuries are hidden, the bags under his eyes are significantly darker than those under George’s. He’s had a lot of makeup applied this morning in an attempt to hide them, and his acne, from the cameras. He’s sure they’ll touch him up more in editing too. 

 

When the door closes and the outside world is muffled to a degree that Kimi can hear again, he lets out a sigh of relief and looks up to his teammate. George has, unsurprisingly, been making even more of an effort than usual to be good to him today. He’s offered him water, sweets, and snacks at every opportunity, and Kimi can see that he’s lining up to do it once more.

 

“Do you need anything?” He asks.

 

It’s almost exhausting to be on the receiving end of, but given the web of deception he’s woven around his teammate over the past few months he feels like he owes it to him to hear him out every time. George is just trying to be kind, and Kimi has done nothing but lie to him, he deserves to be constantly hassled.

 

“No, I’m fine mate,” he assures.

 

“It’s just because it’s a food video. If you want, I can do more of the eating.”

 

His words are soft. George is trying not to attract the attention of the team, which Kimi is glad of, but he shakes his head.

 

“I’m alright,” he promises, and then - because he can’t help himself - he tells yet another lie. “Sergi already spoke to the crew. They know what they’re doing.”

 

“Good, that’s good, I’m glad they’re taking care of you,” George smiles. “I mean, we need to get your contract over the line, don’t we? Unless it’s already signed?” 

 

He can see that he’s fishing for gossip now, and Kimi just laughs and shakes his head.

 

“Ahh, mate, it’s confidential, you know I can’t tell you something like that.”

 

But the truth of the matter is, there’s nothing to tell him anyway. He knows that Mercedes contracts are usually worked out over the summer, so it makes sense that nothing was discussed with him given… What happened. His management team are probably negotiating with Toto’s team, he can’t imagine how many new clauses need to be written into the contract given recent events, and how carefully it needs to be handled to make sure none of those odd clauses are leaked to the press. There’s the usual buzz about rumours of Max moving to Mercedes, or that he might have underachieved in Toto’s eyes and be cast aside for a more established driver. Kimi knows for certain that the latter isn’t true - he’s racked up plenty of wins and podiums, and they’re only a handful of points behind McLaren in the Constructors Championship - and he likes to think that the former isn’t either. A year or two at Alpine sounds like torture, frankly.

 

No one’s told him he’s being replaced yet, so until such a word is given to him he’ll trust that it’s all in hand. There’s only so many things he can juggle, and adding contract negotiations to his current burden might be what it takes to push him over the edge.

 

There’s not much more time for idle chatter though before their social media team is talking them through what they’re filming. Their task is simple enough - they’ve been given some sugar cookies in the shape of skulls and they need to decorate them to the best of their abilities whilst discussing some of the beliefs and traditions surrounding the Day of the Dead. It’s a very safe, in the box kind of social media video, but it will go down a treat. The scripted sections will help them come across as culturally informed and - so long as they stick to the script - conscious of anything sensitive that might otherwise land them in hot water online, and the unscripted interactions between the two of them will feed into the growing portion of the fan base online that are discussing the brotherly vibes of their partnership. 

 

Once the instructions have been given they jump straight into filming, immediately frustrating the social media team by needing several takes just to get through the opening ‘Hi it’s George, and it’s Kimi’. But eventually they’re getting into the meat of filming, and George is reading off cue cards whilst Kimi focuses intently on decorating. His tongue is poking out between his teeth as he carefully ices the outlines of his cookies. If they aren’t any good, he’ll simply use his mechanical finger as an excuse and get a sympathy vote from George to concede the win. He nods and gives simple replies to George’s scripted statements, and he gets to act mischievously in between. He looks up and makes eye contact with the camera before swiping some of the decorations away from George, snatching his icing on several occasions. The first time it’s a genuine thing, but the team behind the camera are egging him on to do it over and over again. 

 

As they’re filming, staff in the kitchen of the café are hard at work preparing food for their customers - the café reopening later in the afternoon once they’re done and the equipment is packed away - and Kimi can smell it all. The meats, vegetables, and spices carry through into the dining area and he can’t help but salivate. He’s been so sick over the past few days that he’s barely been keeping down what he ate, and now that he can eat again… He licks his lips. There’s so much saliva that when the timer goes off to signal that it’s the end of their decorating time and he goes to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, he notices that it comes away darker than before. 

 

The crew filming move their cameras to get a better look at the decorated cookies and Kimi feels his heart pounding. Would that have picked up on their screens? Will they see it and edit it out, but have questions? Or worse, will they miss it and no one will see until the video is released, and then suddenly everyone sees that there’s something wrong with him. What was meant to be a fun, simple activity has quickly become yet another source of panic and Kimi… Kimi doesn’t know what to do. His lungs feel like they’re being crushed in his chest and his eyes are glossing over, but there’s still more filming to be done. They’re on a tight schedule, he can’t delay them, all he can do is smile and nod and let George take the lead as he so often does. He blinks rapidly in the hopes that it’ll make the tears go from his eyes, but he can’t help but think about what happens next. If people see his dark saliva, what will they think? Will anyone be able to figure out the truth? And, if they do figure out the truth, what happens to him? The contract negotiations will be the least of his worries if Interpol knows his real identity. There’s no reason for them to have removed him from their most wanted list, no reason for them to think he isn’t still conspiring with the Hornet and the Wasp, he’ll probably be arrested before he gets the chance to turn a wheel on Sunday.

 

George’s elbow nudges him gently and Kimi feels the world around him take form once more. He’s aware of the cameras, the people looking at him, and he swallows. Is it his saliva again? Why are they staring? What has he done that’s so awful that no one is looking away from him? The lights feel too bright, the air feels too thick, he’s a moment away from descending right back into his panic before someone prompts him.

 

“Kimi, what’s your verdict on George's cookies?”

 

Oh. Right. Filming. They’re not looking at him because he’s revealed himself in some way, they’re looking at him because he’s supposed to be judging George’s cookies. So he looks at them and hums, nodding, describing them loosely. They’re bright, not as neat as his, and George has already taken a bite out of one so that’s got to lose a few marks - right? And those comments seem to be enough for the crew, who are gesturing to George to read from the cue cards again to read things out.

 

Just like that, it’s over, and Kimi doesn’t have any more obligations for the day - other than tending to his growling stomach. The team around him are already starting to clear up and he’s left staring blankly at the wall opposite. He feels like he’s living in limbo right now. Waiting on the results of his blood and saliva tests, waiting for the Hornet to do something that means he needs to intervene, waiting for the race weekend to start so he can climb back into his car and drive. It’s because of that that he once again finds George grabbing his attention, this time holding something out in front of him. A drink. Lightly green, topped with a wedge of lime, filled with ice. 

 

Kimi takes it from him without question and sips on it, and feels a slight tingling on the back of his tongue. Whatever it is, it’s strong, and he looks at his teammate when George laughs at him.

 

“You really don’t drink much, do you?” He asks. “I thought it was just champagne you didn’t like?”

 

He coughs a little, spluttering and shaking his head. It’s refreshing at first, but the aftertaste is potent. 

 

“What is it?” He stares at George, betrayal written across his face.

 

“A Mexican mojito, I think,” George says.

 

In one swift movement he pulls his phone from his pocket and spins it between his thumb and forefinger, before leaning in to speak. 

 

“Hey, Siri, what’s in a Mexican mojito?”

 

There’s a little jingle and a pause before the recognisable voice chimes in with an answer.

 

“A Mexican mojito contains tequila, lime, mint, and sugar.” 

 

“There you are, mate,” George grins, and then his face falls. “Oh, shit, sugar! Are you alright?!”

 

Kimi coughs again slightly, nodding his head. Sugar is fine. George might think it isn’t, but sugar isn’t going to be of any consequence to him. It’s the mint that he’s more concerned about. Hardly life threatening, but irritating, and after the weekend he’s just had he wants a few moments where he can exist without some level of discomfort. All he really needs for it is an antihistamine, and he knows Sergi will have plenty of those to hand, so he just has to find Sergi.

 

“I’m alright, thanks George,” he says, putting the slightly sipped drink down on a table. “I’ll see you later, mate.”

 

Kimi leaves immediately, refusing to linger and leave room for George to interject. He steps out of the café that’s turned stuffy and too small and out into the heat of a Mexican afternoon. There’s people, there’s cars, and he’s in an overwhelmed daze the moment he’s outside, but that doesn’t stop him from moving. It doesn’t stop him from taking his phone out of his pocket. The moment he’s found somewhere he can sit down, he’s texting his location to his trainer and waiting for him to appear. As soon as Sergi is here, he’ll be okay.

 

And Sergi does arrive promptly, because Sergi has never let him down. He’s beaming from ear to ear at first, radiant with a wreath of marigolds around his neck that he must’ve picked up from some of the early festivities already going on, but sobers up quickly the moment that he sees Kimi isn’t okay. He’s scratching at his skin, feeling dreadfully itchy beneath his clothing, and he sniffles and wipes at his nose as Sergi comes to sit beside him.

 

“Mint,” he mutters in slight annoyance.

 

Kimi doesn’t have to say anything else for Sergi to pull his bag from his shoulders and root around for the medication that’s always kept on him. Really, Kimi should be the one to carry it around, it would be far more practical and useful in situations like this, but he still hands the box back to Sergi once he’s popped out the two little tablets and swallowed them dry.

 

“Come on, let’s get you back to your hotel,” Sergi tells him, putting an arm beneath his shoulders to encourage him to stand up.

 

As Kimi gets to his feet, he looks at his trainer with a concerned, sincere expression. He speaks with utmost seriousness when he does.

 

“George asked Siri a question,” he tells Sergi. “Do you think Pedro will be jealous that I’m speaking to other robots?”

 

+ + +

 

Mexico City, Mexico
Friday 24 October 2025

 

The nice thing about being a rookie is that, at no point in the season, Kimi never has to hand over his car to another driver for an FP1 session. Of course, Fred and Valtteri have stepped up to the plate as necessary whilst he’s been unavailable, but as Kimi starts to dial in his set up for the weekend ahead of him it feels like half of the grid are rookies. Alex, Luke, and Arvid have all made a return to Formula 1 machinery, with Dino Beganovic - who’s been strongly rumoured for the second Cadillac seat next year - showing off what he can do in Lewis Hamilton’s Ferrari. And, of course, Paul Aron is around again.

 

Kimi remembers what happened last time they shared a track together - the crash in Hungary - and he makes a very deliberate attempt to keep his distance. Whenever he’s near Paul, for whatever reason, he gives him as wide of a berth as possible. It means that this time their session doesn’t end with the two of them fighting in the Stewards’ room, which is a huge improvement on last time they drove together. 

 

When he gets out of the car - his P3 less respectable than usual given the depleted competition on the track - he focuses on the immediate data given to him by Bono. There’s another session this afternoon, and they’ll talk more about that after lunch, but he can’t escape for his salad until his engineer has been through everything with him: how he can get a better launch from the grid after his clutch was shallow during his practice start; how to better manage his engine in the high altitude; and where to pull back on entry for better exits. 

 

He’s eventually freed from his obligations and gets to wander back to his driver room where he knows his food will be waiting for him - courtesy of Sergi - and where he knows he’ll be able to take a nap before being rudely awoken - courtesy of Sergi once again - to start warming up for his afternoon session. Except when he opens the door, Kimi finds more than just a salad waiting for him. He finds Oliver Bearman, smiling from ear to ear, looking far less exhausted than he is. Admittedly, Ollie’s sat this session out to let a young driver take his place, so he’s certainly got an advantage when it comes to looking (and smelling) his best, but he doesn’t complain at all when Kimi settles beside him and kicks his legs up into his lap.

 

“Comfortable?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.

 

“You’re in my room, mate,” Kimi points out, grabbing his salad bowl and taking off the lid. “If you did not want to be a pillow, you should not have come here!”

 

He smiles at his own teasing, and he’s fairly certain that Ollie blushes, but he’s too busy eating to really think about the consequences of his words. 

 

Kimi picks up his phone, content to just sit alongside Ollie whilst he eats, and he works his way through the notifications that’ve come through whilst he’s been driving. Unsurprisingly, the majority are from Ollie himself - terrible quality photos of his driving and the shots of him getting in and out of the car. He wonders if Ollie was sitting on the Haas pit wall during the session and if he had to ask to have his feed on at all times, or if he’s just found a screen someone else showing the F1 TV feed, or if - somehow - he’s snuck into the Mercedes garage. He’s not sure which option he prefers the most, but he finds himself greatly endeared by the fact that Ollie did it at all. 

 

When he puts his phone down and looks back to the man beside him, Ollie is smiling at him with the softest, most tender expression on his face, and it almost makes Kimi feel sick to his stomach. He can’t imagine what he’s done to be on the receiving end of such a look, and he doesn’t know entirely why Ollie is reaching for one of his hands and slipping their fingers together. He pays no attention to the fact that one of his fingers is metal, and he’s grateful for it. 

 

“You did good today,” Ollie tells him.

 

Kimi has no choice but to roll his eyes, because if he engages in this kind of behaviour then his planned nap is going to turn into something else entirely. As much as he doesn’t want Sergi barging in and waking him from his sleep, he wants Sergi walking into that even less.

 

“It was Practice, mate, with half a dozen rookies,” he points out as he swallows his food. “I should’ve been clear of them, but that Alex guy, he’s quick, eh?” 

 

“He’s in a McLaren, of course he’s quick,” Ollie snorts. “And you’ve heard the rumours haven’t you?” 

 

“Silly season, mate,” he snorts. “Not going to happen.” 

 

“Maybe he is the Silver Spider,” he muses.

 

And something in Kimi’s brain short-circuits.

 

Ollie’s conspiracy theories have taken a bit of a backseat recently, or maybe his interactions with Ollie have just been less about superheroes and more about… Well… Other things. The last they’d spoken about it, Max Verstappen was allegedly the Silver Spider. But Alex Dunne? That’s certainly a new one. And it’s one he could very easily debunk, but the last thing he wants is for Ollie to know the truth, so he just hums and takes another bite of his salad.

 

“Do you want to go out again?” 

 

Ollie’s question is another sharp change of topic, and Kimi stares at him. Ollie’s looking away now, staring down at their hands, as if he’s nervous to ask. He’s not sure why he’d be nervous, given they’ve been trying to go on a first date since Imola and their last date ended with a kiss and trading clothes, but it’s sweet to see him so shy and timid. Kimi’s still chewing, so he can’t answer straight away, which leaves Ollie with time to ramble.

 

“Because it was really fun in Austin. Maybe we don’t go golfing again, though, you weren’t very good at it,” he laughs softly. “Because I really want to be able to kiss you again and if we’re just relying on you being able to putt a hole-in-one then I’m not sure it’s going to happen for a long time.” 

 

“I can practice,” Kimi says quickly, putting his salad down and shifting to sit upright. “Besides, you still owe me! I won the Sprint race!”

 

“Not a real race,” Ollie reminds.

 

But his body is speaking differently. Now that Kimi’s sat up, his legs in front of him rather than thrown over Ollie’s lap, their shoulders are brushing against each other and their knees are just touching. Ollie squeezes Kimi’s hand firmly, and Kimi returns the favour by placing his hand on Ollie’s thigh and applying the same amount of pressure.

 

“You didn’t specify that when we made the rules, eh? Do you want to kiss me or not?”

 

Kimi’s tongue darts out between his lips as he holds Ollie’s gaze, whilst Ollie looks directly at his mouth. He knows what it’s like to kiss Ollie - he’s done it twice now after all - it’s soft, and warm, like a warm summer evening with a quietly crackling campfire and the familiar taste of burnt marshmallows and the smell of cinder. But the anticipation… Oh, the anticipation is electric. The atmosphere around them is charged and something as small as Ollie’s hand coming to rest against his cheek - the lightly calloused tips of his fingers pressing against his stubble covered jaw - sends a shock through his body. Every part of him tingles with excitement. He wants Ollie. God, he wants Ollie. He wants to devour him. The hunger he feels now isn’t something that can be remedied with the remains of his salad, it’s something deep and primal, something that makes him want to dig his nails into Ollie’s flesh and pull him close. Skin on skin wouldn’t be enough, he needs Ollie more deeply than that. He needs their very souls to intertwine. He needs to find a way to piece the constellation of freckles and moles on Ollie’s face into something physical and real so he can bask in the light of his stars. 

 

In the end, Kimi is the one to lean forward and end the anticipation. Because as wonderful as it is to exist in the moment before kissing Ollie, it doesn’t compare at all to actually kissing Ollie. Their lips dance together, softly and sweetly. Kimi briefly feels self-conscious about the fact that he probably tastes like salad dressing and under seasoned chicken, but it doesn’t stop Ollie from taking the initiative and pushing on. Kimi feels Ollie’s mouth open wider and his tongue push in, suction pulling him in deeper in return. Their mouths move back and forth, lips coming together and parting as they move in ways, and Kimi moves his hands to find new places on Ollie to touch. His thigh is great, but reaching for his waist feels better. Rather than settle for placing his hand on top of Ollie’s shirt, he slides his fingers up beneath the hem so he can feel his skin. Ollie breaks the kiss for the briefest of moments to let out a breathy little squeak, and so Kimi presses harder against his body. 

 

The gentle kiss in Austin was great, but this… This is life changing. It does little to satisfy his hunger, in fact it only serves to whet his appetite further, and Kimi is desperately seeking out more. He takes charge again, leaning into Ollie and brushing his teeth over his lips. He almost wants to bite him, but he holds himself back. They’ve only had one date, and they do need to drive Formula 1 cars again in a few hours, but God he wants more. He wants everything Ollie will give him. The more he leans into him, the more Ollie leans back, and the harder it is to pull himself back from the edge of whatever is about to happen. It can’t happen. Not here, not now. But Ollie’s hands have wandered beneath his fireproofs and are on the small of his back, trying to pull him down with him. 

 

In fact, it isn’t until Ollie moves one hand to his stomach and starts to slowly feel up towards his chest that Kimi pulls away in alarm, panting for air and realising just how close he came to doing something really, really stupid. As wonderful as it would be to keep going, even if it meant sabotaging the rest of their weekends and risking Sergi (or George) walking in on something that would land them in deeply hot water with HR, he can’t. He can’t do this with Ollie, now or ever, and he feels his head start to spin again.

 

Kimi closes his eyes and exhales, pushing the feelings away. He can’t spiral in the middle of a race weekend, that’s something he needs to save until after the weekend is over. Once the race is done - and whatever scheme the Hornet fancies enacting this time has been thwarted - he can let his mind run amok, but for now he needs to keep himself afloat. 

 

He licks his lips and sits back as he opens his eyes. Ollie hasn’t picked up on the shift in energy around him, lying back on his elbows on Kimi’s little bed with sultry eyes daring him to do more. Kimi can’t give in, but he can’t turn Ollie away for good either. He’s stupid, and selfish, and he wants the best of both worlds… At least the tests should conclude by the end of the weekend, maybe that’ll mean that the team back at the factory can find a way to reverse whatever has happened to him and he’ll be able to give every part of himself up to Ollie like he wants to.

 

“So,” he whispers, breathing finally under control once again. “You mentioned another date?”

 

“Sunday evening?” Ollie says hopefully, sitting back up as realisation that nothing else is happening sinks in. “We can just explore together?”

 

Kimi nods his head, reaching for his salad to put something physically between himself and Ollie. And, more importantly, to put something physically in his lap to hide just how uncomfortable his race suit has become.. 

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Kimi agrees. “Text me when you get out of debrief?”

 

Ollie stands up, hands neatly clasped in front of himself as he wanders back towards the door.

 

“I will. Good luck this weekend, mate. Give me a tow in Qualifying?” 

 

“Give me one back,” Kimi replies.

 

And with that, Ollie is gone. Before the door to his room can swing shut he hears an awkward encounter between his… Friend? And George. The door closes, the latch clicks in place, and as Kimi tries to process what exactly just happened he hears a little voice chiming in from his trainers. If he looks down, he can see the familiar, shimmering green eyes of Pedro staring up from his hiding place.

 

“Pedro requests that the Silver Spider place Pedro into idle mode next time friend Oliver comes to visit!” 

 

+ + +

 

Mexico City, Mexico
Sunday 26 October 2025

 

The weekend has progressed relatively well. The second Practice session, no longer awash with rookies, was somewhat more competitive, but Kimi managed to maintain his hold on P3 which only served to bolster his confidence going into Saturday and Qualifying. And that’s why he finds himself toward the sharp end of the grid, P2, beaten only by Oscar Piastri on this occasion. 

 

Austin feels like a different world now. Memories of radiation sickness have been long forgotten, just as the memories of standing on the podium have. It only serves to make him more eager to get in the car and race, to feel the elation of the crowd cheering his name as he adds more silverware to his collection of rookie season trophies that’s coming along nicely. He’s still got a few minutes before the race starts, the anthem having just drawn to a close, and he’s pacing back and forth alongside his car as he goes over the last pieces of advice that Bono’s given him. Kimi sips on his water one last time before he hands the bottle off to Sergi, who in turn hands it off to a mechanic. Then he takes off his cooling jacket and hands it to his trainer, who again passes it along the chain to another mechanic. When he’s pulling on his balaclava, Sergi is standing in front of him with his helmet and helping make sure everything is tucked in, plugged in, and fitted appropriately. 

 

Strong hands rest on his shoulders and squeeze him reassuringly, and Kimi smiles as best he can - though with his helmet on his face is so scrunched up that it means his eyes just wrinkle together brightly. As he climbs into the car, Sergi brushes off any stray marbles from the soles of his shoes, and he slots into his seat as is routine. Two sets of arms come in to do up his seatbelt and ensure he’s fastened securely, and static fills his ears as his radio is plugged in. Kimi tests his tether to Bono, checking the radio is working as expected, and listens to the countdown to the formation lap.

 

He pulls away neatly behind Oscar - his clutch only two percent deep this time around - and he begins to prepare his tyres for 71 laps around the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez. He’s really looking forward to it. Even before three confidence boosting Practice and Qualifying sessions, he already felt good about it. He got a taste of the track in FP1 last year and he’s felt comfortable during every session in the Simulator. There’s nothing in his mind telling him that he can’t beat the Championship leader this time around, liquid courage running through his veins instead daring him to make a move down into the first turn to claim the lead and control the race from there. It would all but guarantee that Mercedes take the lead in the Constructors Championship, but it would help George too. The less points Oscar scores, the more chance George has of winning the Championship for himself.

 

Even with his helmet on, ear plugs in, and the engine in the car roaring as he makes his way toward the grid, he can still hear the cheers of fans as he drives through the stadium section. It’s electric. 

 

“Four burnouts to the grid please, mate,” comes the ask from Bono, and Kimi obliges him.

 

He twists a few dials on his steering wheel to make sure he’s in the right mode for a perfect launch and he waits, his heart beating rising with every passing second, for the last car to slot onto the grid. This week, the unlucky winner of the P20 spot is Lance Stroll after a shunt in Qualifying. But all of that is in the past now. All twenty cars are on the grid, the green flag is being waved, and Kimi’s eyes are firmly fixed on the lights above him. There’s an 830 metre dash to the braking point, and he’s determined to make every single metre count.

 

Kimi’s pupils are dilated, his fingers grip at the steering wheel, and he exhales slowly. All he has to do is manage his tyres, his ERS, and make sure the car doesn’t break at altitude when there’s 20% less atmosphere to keep the engine cool. Easy. 

 

The lights blink out and Kimi jumps into action, pulling away with every bit of traction he can find. The slight bit of wheelspin from the McLaren in front of him is exactly what Kimi needed, and it means he can quickly make up the deficit from P1 to P2. He’s careful to race cleanly, giving Oscar enough racing room that he won’t be pulled into the Stewards’ room for a difficult conversation post-race, but that doesn’t mean he lets him pass. He’s aggressive, and Oscar is aggressive, and that’s why at the apex of Turn 2 he feels something. 

 

Contact.

 

Kimi is quick to fix his steering angle, breath coming thick and fast as adrenaline surges and he steadies himself. He just about keeps from spinning as he exits the corner, one car getting ahead of him into Turn 3. He curses, before realising that the car ahead of him is silver - not orange. 

 

“I had contact with Piastri,” Kimi reports back dutifully.

 

“Yep, we saw it on the data,” Bono informs him. “Keep your head down mate. George is up ahead, Norris behind.”

 

So he does what he’s told. He keeps his head down and he recalls the strategy the team discussed before the race - if George is ahead, he stays ahead, and Kimi makes his car as wide as possible for as long as possible to help him build a lead that will protect against any scenario. The gap is already over 4 seconds when, three laps later, Bono is on the radio again with bad news.

 

“Alright, Kimi, for information, the stewards have given you a five second penalty for causing a collision at the start. We’re appealing, but we’ll serve it at your stop if we can’t get it overturned. Keep building the gap. Norris 1.3 behind.” 

 

He grits his teeth, knowing that it’s damn unlikely that it’s going to get successfully appealed, but he also knows that he’s got to focus on his own race. He can get angry during the debrief, for now he just needs to keep racing. If he’s lucky the team will let him push hard before he pits to build up a gap to Lando behind that nullifies his penalty…

 

… But of course, Kimi Antonelli is not lucky. There’s a crash towards the back of the pack, Esteban and Lance colliding and bringing out the safety car, and by the time Kimi’s made it to the pits the cars behind him are already starting to bunch up. Sitting for five seconds with the team around him unable to do anything is pure agony, but it’s not the end of the world. When he comes out, he’s still P5, and he’s got time on his side. There’s no tyre delta with the cars surrounding him, but the power of spite is more than enough for him to make up a couple of positions. The safety car also gives him time to look at the screens as he makes his way around the track, and he can see that Esteban and Lance aren’t the only two showing as OUT. So is Oscar. Suddenly, a five second penalty doesn’t seem so bad. George is going to have a healthy lead in the Championship after a 25 point swing in his favour, and the team are going to take strides ahead of McLaren if Lando’s the only one scoring points. 

 

The safety car is out for longer than he’d like it to be, but when it eventually comes in Kimi makes quick work of Max Verstappen - who’s Red Bull is well and truly on the ropes and making it to the end of the race seems improbable. He’s no challenge, but Charles Leclerc is a challenge. Charles Leclerc isn’t going to roll over and give him a podium without a fight, and it is one Hell of a fight. It goes until the last lap of the race, until the final DRS zone of the race, and even after making it into the stadium section ahead it’s still touch and go. The difference between being on and off the podium is measured in thousandths of a second, but Kimi comes out ahead of the photo finish. 

 

Somehow, despite starting from P2, finishing P3 feels like a miracle. An easy win has become a hard fought podium and when he climbs out of his car in Parc Ferme, Charles is the first one to congratulate him, patting him on the back and shaking his hand as they laugh about how much fun it was to spar over so many laps. And then he’s got George alongside him, grinning from ear to ear because the team are 19 points clear of McLaren, and George now has 12 points on Oscar. It’s a comfortable cushion with two sprints and four races left in the season. Kimi somehow manages to smile even more widely as he embraces his teammate, then goes to celebrate with his team.

 

Being back up on the podium is a great feeling, even if it means he’s got more media duties than were on his schedule two hours ago. He’ll be late for his date with Ollie, but he’s fairly sure he’ll be able to find it in himself to forgive him on this occasion. If the Silly Season rumours are to be believed, there’s a chance they’ll get to share some of them next year. But for once, Ollie has found a way to remain steadfast and silent when Kimi’s tried to bring the topic up. It doesn’t matter, it’s a thought for later, his thoughts for now revolve entirely with his team. He’s not shared a podium with George since Baku, so he intends on soaking him thoroughly with the champagne. And now that they’re leading the Constructors Championship for the first time in years, they’ve got a proud Toto standing with them to accept the team trophy - a proud Toto who requires the exact same kind of treatment.

 

It’s a sentiment that George seems to share, because as soon as the trophies have been handed out and the music starts to play, they both seem to have one target in mind. The plan to drench George is quickly forgotten when his teammate pulls him up onto the top step, giving them both a height advantage (though only slight, in Kimi’s case) over their boss. Together they absolutely douse the man in champagne, his shirt so thoroughly sodden that it’s practically see through, George focusing on his back whilst Kimi pours the last of his champagne straight over Toto’s head. When they’re both completely empty, Toto rubs at his eyes and stares at them both with a playful glare.

 

Kimi feels rather queasy under his gaze, and wonders if maybe he should’ve waited until signing a new contract before pulling such a stunt. He’s pulled from that thought by George’s hand resting on his waist as photographs are taken, Lando whisper-shouting to George over the music and laughing, before the ceremony is over and he’s faced with the now regular routine of a podium finish. He needs to shower as best as he can, change into some clothes that aren’t quite so sticky, and get ready for media and debriefings. At least with some time between now and Brazil there’s less of an impetus to get it all done before leaving the track. George is keen to celebrate, as are the rest of the team, and that means that the deepest dives into data and detail are put to one side to discuss tomorrow. For now, the only thing anyone wants to do is go to a club and get very, very drunk,

 

Except for Kimi, who’s ambitions take on more of an Oliver Bearman shape. 

 

As soon as he’s been dismissed by his team he checks his phone to see that Ollie texted him about being out of his debrief a long time ago, and by the time Kimi’s replying to him he’s already made his way back to the hotel. Kimi finds himself doing the same, using it as a convenient way to break away from his team who are insistent that he comes out to party with them, but a quick trip back to his room to change is all it takes to separate from the group. 

 

He doesn’t change into anything particularly extravagant, but switching out his team kit for a plain, long-sleeved t-shirt at least means there’s less chance of attention being drawn to him in a crowd. Of course, that only works if Ollie does the same, and whilst he opens the door to his hotel room to find him dressed in entirely appropriate clothing, it doesn’t hide the fact that he’s still a giant. Despite the fact that he’s gotten rather used to being with Ollie - to touching him and kissing him - he still feels butterflies flutter in his stomach. Kimi stares up at him, in a way that he’s fairly sure would be embarrassing if anyone else were around to see, but Ollie stares right back.

 

“Well done on your podium,” Ollie whispers softly, closing his door behind himself and pocketing his key card. “We all know that was a bullshit decision from the stewards.”

 

Kimi flushes, standing on his tip toes to try and kiss him, but there’s quickly a finger pressed firmly against his lips and he’s pushed back onto the ground. He pouts against Ollie’s finger and whines, which only makes Ollie laugh.

 

“You got a podium, and it was impressive, but you didn’t win,” Ollie points out. “I think that means I need to go kiss George.”

 

“No!” Kimi protests, reaching out to grab his hand. “Absolutely not! You cannot kiss George, mate!”

 

Ollie snorts. 

 

“I don’t know why I should kiss you, you still call me mate. Anyway, rules are rules. You might’ve gotten a pity kiss if you didn’t get back onto the podium, but you stole a podium from Charles - from Ferrari!” 

 

Even if he’s going without a kiss, Kimi still smiles. Because it’s silly, and it’s natural, and it’s nice. And that’s how they leave the hotel, hand in hand, unable to stop being racing drivers for the first part of their evening together as they fall into a deep discussion about what line they took through different corners, how their cars coped with the altitude, and how they fared with the tyre degradation. But, eventually, they’re in the bustling centre of the city and the conversation fades away as their tastebuds take control of the evening. 

 

If Kimi had thought the city was crowded and chaotic a few days ago, then he’s not sure how to describe the state of things now. The night is drawing in, the sun has almost set, but it feels like the streets are just beginning to come to life. There’s bright lights and colours everywhere, not just on shop fronts but on people too. Kimi’s attempt at trying to blend in by looking as plain as possible has been undone by everyone around them donning beautiful outfits. He’s almost blinded by the extravagance, stumbling around in admiration as Ollie pulls him through the mass of people towards one of the many places selling food. He’s not sure if they end up in front of a market stall, a food truck, or a permanent building, but Ollie’s soon holding a paper plate with several tacos. He licks his lips, his stomach growling loud enough to be heard over the thrum of music pulsing through the air, and Ollie starts to direct them to somewhere quiet enough that they can sit down and talk without being disrupted. It does mean that they have to walk several streets over, and that their food is cooling down all the while, but Kimi finds that he doesn’t care. He’s close to Ollie, and the thinning crowd around them is invisible to him. He only has eyes for Ollie. 

 

They end up sitting down on the kerb by the side of the road, Ollie’s knees hilariously close to his face, with the plate of food between them. They don’t have to shout to be heard anymore, which makes the moment feel a little more intimate as he reaches for one of the tacos. It’s piled high with toppings and he’s glad that the night around them cloaks the darkness pooling at his lips. But before he can take a bite, Ollie is nudging him gently. 

 

“We should give each other a bite, here!”

 

He’s already moving his taco towards Kimi’s mouth and he has no time to react, just opening up as required and taking a bite. It’s rushed, clumsy, and messy - half the toppings end up down his shirt and his teeth brush against Ollie’s finger - but it makes his heart beat faster. The way that Ollie laughs doesn’t make it any easier for him. It’s light, and pure, and he’d do anything in his power to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

 

“Okay, okay, your turn mate,” Kimi insists.

 

Unlike Ollie, he tries to work with a little bit more precision. He waits until Ollie is actually ready for him before he lifts the taco to his mouth, pinching it with his fingers to keep it from breaking apart when he takes a bite. Kimi licks his lips as he watches Ollie chewing, putting down the half eaten taco and bringing his fingers to his own mouth to suck off some of the sauce whilst Ollie wipes his chin with his arm.

 

“Oh, fuck they’re good,” he moans.

 

And now it’s Kimi’s turn to burst out laughing, caught off guard by the noise that Ollie’s made.

 

The rest of the tacos are consumed in much the same way. With Ollie feeding him, Kimi truly thinks it’s a wonder that he managed to get anything in his mouth. When they’re done, Kimi wipes his hands with a napkin, but Ollie presents his fingers in front of Kimi and wiggles them a bit.

 

What kind of a man wouldn’t suck Oliver Bearman’s fingers when requested? 

 

They throw their plate and napkins away as they make their way back to the crowd, looking for something sweet to follow up their main course. Having a weekend off before the next race means they can indulge more than they ordinarily would without too many consequences from their trainers. As they mingle, their noses carrying them towards the smell of melted sugar, Kimi’s hand finds Ollie’s and squeezes tightly. 

 

This weekend has been almost perfect. The only thing missing is a win, but a trophy is a trophy and an ice cream without a cherry on top is still delicious. Maybe if he’s lucky he’ll be able to convince Ollie to forget about their rules, maybe he’ll be able to get that kiss anyway. And that mission starts when he hears a band start to play music a short walk away from them. Brass instruments echo and stringed instruments harmonise, the crowd are clapping and singing along, and Kimi has no choice but to tug Ollie away from the stands selling food and towards the centre of activity. They can have dessert later - right now he wants him. 

 

Bursting out through the crowd, they find themselves in a slightly less packed area, groups dancing together under a thin strip of moonlight. If they were around people they knew, Kimi might’ve needed a bit of alcohol to rid himself of his inhibitions, but no one here seems to recognise them. No one’s shouting their names, asking for photos or autographs, so he lets his hips start to move as smoothly as they can and he follows the rhythm of the music. Ollie folds immediately, picking up Kimi’s hints and responding without being asked. 

 

It’s like they’re back in Monaco again, after Charles’ win, except instead of being in a sweaty, dark club they’re out beneath the stars. There’s wind in their hair and on their shoulders, there isn’t a drop of alcohol in their bodies, and there’s nothing for either of them to worry about. They aren’t trying to avoid their friends catching how their hands move over each other’s bodies, they aren’t bracing for an early morning ice bath with a raging hangover, and they aren’t worried about what might happen if they move closer to each other and their lips come together. Now it all just feels natural, and fun, and freeing. 

 

The crowd cheers, catching both their attention, and they look towards the front of the group where the band are loudly playing their music. From this far back it’s impossible to see. At least, it is for Kimi.

 

“What’s happening?” He calls up to Ollie - who’s having to crane his own neck to see.

 

“Aww, cute, a kid’s joined them,” he says after a moment. 

 

A wonderful moment, made all the more sweet by the goodness of humanity, the shared community of strangers and friends alike. Kimi might’ve spent the last few months fighting, he might’ve been hurt more times than he can count, but moments like this remind him what he’s fighting for. He’s keeping these people, and every other person, safe. People aren’t perfect, but the solution isn’t to kill and to hoard power. Control isn’t going to fix the climate, it isn’t going to remove plastics from the ocean or carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. People need to come together to do that, not to be terrified into submission by a man who’s gone mad. 

 

Kimi grabs Ollie’s hand again and pulls him forward, ducking low as he pushes his way to the front of the crowd, but before they can make any substantial progress the cheers halt. The silence is abrupt and terrifying, and the tingling he feels in his wrist sends a chill down his spine. Kimi stops, pushing himself onto his tip toes, now far enough forward that he can see over the heads of the people in front of him to the area the band have been playing in. They’re all slumped over on the ground, surrounded by fog, and standing amidst it all is the child that Ollie mentioned seeing.

 

He barely has a moment to take in what he’s seeing before there’s a flash from the child’s shoulders, two ‘birds’ flying out over the crowd, and he has to act before he can really process what’s happening.

 

Kimi tugs his shirt up over his face, using his chin and nose to hold it in place as best he can whilst he pulls Ollie once more. Everyone around them is panicking. There’s shouts and cries from all directions, his vision is slowly becoming clouded, and dragging Ollie feels more and more like he’s pulling a cement block behind him. Kimi feels his knees turning to jelly as he tries to push through the crowd, the once fearful movements slowing down and the mass of people turning solid. It’s like trying to move through molasses. Until, one by one, people start to drop. Kimi tries to limit his own breathing, something in the back of his mind kicking into gear and supplying him with a reminder of what’s likely happening. It’s almost certainly the same gas that’s been used to subdue crowds before by the Hornet, and so the logical part of him knows what to do to protect himself. The less he inhales, the better everything will be for him. The sooner he can put his mask on, the better.

 

He feels himself slump to one side, dropping to his knees on the cobblestone, a dense thud beside him.

 

Ollie. 

 

Kimi’s head snaps around to see his friend on the ground, eyes closed, and he curses loudly. Around him the crowd is falling, but he doesn’t care right now. Right now he’s selfish, and the only thing that matters to him is Ollie.

 

He takes in a deep breath, which makes him momentarily dizzy, and he moves so that instead of holding Ollie’s hand he’s got one arm around his waist. Then, with almost everyone in the area unconscious or on the brink of falling unconscious, he raises his left arm and shoots out his web, swinging himself and Ollie away from the growing cloud of fog that’s keeping everyone around them asleep. 

 

It’s only when he lands two blocks away, on the roof of a building that’ll keep them above the fog even if it starts to spread, that he can start to think things through. Because what’s happening is bad, really bad, and Kimi has to be able to breathe and to think if he wants to do anything to counter the Hornet. So that’s exactly what he tries to do. Whilst he places Ollie gently down on the ground and checks that he’s breathing and still has a pulse, he takes deep breaths of his own. In through his nose, and out through his mouth. He does this over and over, until his mind is clear of any effects from the gas he did inhale, and then he starts to think.

 

The Hornet, clearly, is here. The Wasp is, probably, here too. Two against one is already an imbalance he doesn’t like the sound of, but bringing the child and their ‘birds’ into the picture as well… Kimi’s in trouble. This situation is new and he doesn’t know what might happen. He can’t do this alone. He slips his bag off his shoulders and takes out his phone, texting the first person he can think of. Because Doriane isn’t in Mexico this weekend, and Ollie is unconscious at his feet, his mind jumps to Esteban. 

 

He messages him swiftly, and receives a message back just as quickly.

 

[Esteban Ocon] Daddy is on the way!

 

He doesn’t have time to decode what that means, not when he needs to get changed into his suit without drawing any unwanted attention to himself. The last thing he needs, right now, is eyes on him. So he keeps low, hidden by the walls of the buildings around him, the moonlight insufficient to give away his position to any potential onlookers. He strips off his shirt and jeans, pulling on his suit and boots in good time. It almost feels like he’s gotten a handle on the situation!

 

Almost.

 

Just as he’s grabbing his gloves from his bag, the whole world starts to shake. Three explosions ring out, one after another after another. The first is as typical as explosions come, causing significant disruption and sending a cloud of smoke rising into the air. His ears ring, but he can still hear the sounds of screams and moans, the cracking of brick and mortar as buildings crumble and fall. But it’s nothing compared to what happens next. The following two explosions are larger, catapulting debris further and sending out a wave of heat. A flash of light just barely proceeds the arrival of the heat, giving Kimi enough time to duck down and throw his body over Ollie’s. His hair is singed, and the backs of his hands sting, but his suit protects most of him - and, in turn, most of Ollie. He stays down longer than he needs to, just in case more than two waves of heat and ash come their way, but nothing further happens. 

 

His heart pounds in his chest, and Kimi takes a brief moment to compose himself before he dares to sit up. He brushes dust from his suit, looking down at Ollie to make sure he’s still okay, then shakily gets to his feet and starts to approach the edge of the building. The explosions were bad, but he’s not at all prepared for how bad everything looks. Gazing out the way he fled, buildings have been flattened in an almost perfect circle. There’s only two buildings standing between the place he’d brought them to hide and the edge of the destruction, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve gone further. Is this place still safe? Is Ollie still safe?!

 

If he looks more closely, he can see that the cloud of fog they’ve escaped from has turned a sickening green, and his stomach plummets down out of him. He turns and runs back to Ollie’s side, pulling his mask out of his rucksack and placing it quickly over his friend’s head. It isn’t perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but it will at least ensure the air he breathes in doesn’t hurt him. He can’t tend to him any longer, though, only pausing briefly by his bag again to pull out Pedro and turn him on. He rests the little spider on his shoulder, pulling on his gloves and wristbands as he jumps down from the edge of the building.

 

“Pedro,” he whispers desperately. “Do you know what happened?”

 

“Pedro will assist the Silver Spider in his quest for answers!” Pedro declares charmingly, his little metal limbs bouncing to life as he shoots out web and starts to swing towards the epicentre of the blast.

 

Kimi moves more slowly, keeping himself steady with one hand against the still standing walls that surround him. The streets that had been so full of people only minutes ago are suddenly completely empty, and Kimi likes to think that it’s because they fled in time. Those further away from the gas might’ve had time to run far enough to not get caught up in the explosions. Those that were unconscious… Well… The terrible truth is that their bodies have likely been buried beneath rubble, which would’ve condemned them if they hadn’t already died in the blasts. Given the damage that’s been wrought, it seems improbable.

 

With his mask covering Ollie’s face, Kimi can only get so close to the centre of what’s happening. He needs to wait for backup - either in the form of Pedro or Esteban - before he can dare to venture forward. It leaves him with a few moments of eerie silence he can use to try and put together a clear picture of what exactly just happened.

 

Everything was normal, and then a child was on the stage, and then the band around the child were unconscious and two ‘birds’ flew from their shoulders to incapacitate the crowd. He doesn’t know who the child is, but the evidence of their equipment points to some kind of involvement with the Hornet. The ‘birds’ possess the same technology as the ‘bees’. He’s not seen the Hornet, or the Wasp, but something like this has their names written all over it. Kimi lowers himself to sit down in a pile of rubble, his fingers running through the dust that’s been left behind. Adding a child to the mix adds a whole new complicated angle, because whilst he clearly needs to stop them from being involved in the Hornet’s game he can’t let them get hurt. There’s a good chance the child has been used the same way Doriane was, the same way he was - they need rescuing, not to be fought. 

 

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, and bites down on his lip. Things never get any easier.

 

Footsteps crunch through the rubble and Kimi looks up to see Esteban running towards him. Who he assumes is Esteban, anyway, given he’s wearing a skin tight suit and has a mask covering his face. Esteban skids to a halt on the debris around him and reaches out a frantic hand.

 

“Kimi?! Are you okay?! I saw the explosions!”

 

Kimi nods his head, taking Esteban’s hand for the sole purpose of being able to feel the reassurance of physically having someone beside him, and gets back to his feet. There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t quite rid himself of now. 

 

“There is a child,” he declares. “We cannot hurt them, understand?”

 

Esteban nods, and Kimi exhales.

 

“The Hornet has nukes now, I think this was them. Or maybe he made big ‘bees’ that explode more. I don’t know, I didn’t see what happened. I was with Ollie, we–”

 

“Ollie?! Where is he? Is he alright?!” 

 

Esteban’s voice is fearful and desperate, and Kimi nods quickly. It spurs him on, really. When it’s just him, it’s easy to feel like he’s drowning, but having Esteban frightened beside him gives him a reason to be strong. He has to compartmentalise everything, push it down, pull himself together and be a leader.

 

“He’s fine, I got us away from the cloud. It knocked him out, but I got him to safety. He’s wearing my mask so he can breathe. If those explosions were nukes then…” 

 

Kimi swallows. Is it possible to expose yourself to enough radiation to build up an immunity to it?

 

“We have to be quick,” he says. “We have to find that child and get them away from the Hornet. If we can do anything else, we try, but we just get the child away. He’s more dangerous now, eh? We need upgrades. If you start to feel sick, leave. Sergi made me drink salt water last weekend, I think that helped,” he recalls. 

 

Even with his mask on, he can tell that Esteban is staring at him with wide eyes, and his nod is short and sharp. This isn’t the time to discuss things, this is the time to act as quickly as possible. 

 

The fog at least seems to be dissipating somewhat, so Kimi feels a little more comfortable as the two of them start to walk closer towards the centre of the blast. It’s unfortunate that once they’ve left the cover of the still somewhat standing buildings, they’re open and exposed and unable to use shelter to give them the element of surprise, but there’s several dark figures standing close to the centre and that gives Kimi reason enough to keep walking towards them. He stops, only briefly, when he spots something on the ground. A scarf. It’s not much, but he picks it up and ties it around his head, over his nose and mouth, to offer some kind of protection against whatever might still be lingering in the air. He’s going to need iodine tablets again, without question, but hopefully Toto will be able to provide him with a suit capable of protecting him between now and Brazil in two weeks’ time.

 

What would’ve been a block away from where the band once stood, Kimi and Esteban stop, Pedro scuttling toward them over the rubble. He’s quick to approach, shooting out a web onto Kimi’s shoulder and swinging himself back to perch carefully.

 

“Silver Spider! Friend Esteban! Pedro has discovered something terrible!”

 

“What is it, Pedro?” Kimi asks.

 

“Actually, it’s not Esteban,” Esteban interrupts briefly. “Sorry, I know this is important, but if I’m a superhero too then I need a name, don’t I? I was workshopping it with Ollie on the flight here. If we’re all spiders, then I think that makes me a Daddy Long Legs, no?”

 

Whatever Pedro was going to say, it doesn’t matter anymore. Not when those words have left Esteban’s mouth.

 

“No,” he says firmly, categorically, without a shadow of a doubt. “I am not calling you Daddy, mate!”

 

“Pedro does not wish to call Friend Esteban ‘daddy’ either. Friend Toto is Pedro’s ‘daddy’.” 

 

“Oh my God,” Kimi exhales, putting his head in his hands as he briefly considers marching up to the Hornet and asking if he can explode him there and then.

 

They don’t have time for a conversation like this, though. Not when they’re quite possibly standing in the most irradiated part of the world. The night is relatively still, any fallout from the explosion will still be lingering around them, they have to move fast. So Kimi starts to walk again, with Esteban behind him, and he sets his shoulders to try and look as confident as possible. It’s the exact opposite of how he feels, but maybe if he approaches the Hornet like this he’ll have second thoughts about his own plans.

 

It doesn’t take long for them to be close enough to make out the Hornet, the Wasp, and the child between them. The Hornet has his hands on their shoulders, and he feels dreadfully sick. The tingling in his wrist has never felt this intense. It’s almost painful, like a thousand tiny daggers are stabbing him over and over and over. He tries not to think about it as he comes to a stop, close enough that he can see the expression on the Hornet’s face behind his mask but far enough away that he’ll have time to react if he tries anything. Esteban is standing behind him, and he likes to think he looks just as intimidating without a mask as Esteban does with.

 

“Why, Incy Wincy,” the Hornet smirks. “This is, well, it’s really quite embarrassing, but I can see your face.” 

 

Kimi doesn’t allow himself to get angry, he doesn’t take the bait, he just lets the Hornet act like he’s the dame in a pantomime. He’s having fun, and if he just lets him keep having fun then maybe he’ll make a mistake. As much as they need to act quickly, they have to act safely. There’s a balance that needs to be struck, and right now they can afford to be standing here longer - they can’t afford the child under the Hornet’s gloves to be hurt. 

 

“Do you like what I just did?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Just some little experiments. I’ve got new designs, new prototypes, I wanted to see which worked best. But I couldn’t let you get in the way of things. If I just came out on my own and tried to test my ‘bees’, you’d have put a stop to it. No, I needed help, from my wonderful new assistant,” he grins.

 

The Hornet squeezes the child’s shoulders tightly and they look up at him. Their suit, much like his, is mainly comprised of blacks and yellows, but with bright purple and iridescent colouring on their wings. They match with the birds that he spotted fluttering around, the birds that - thinking carefully - he’s seen a few times since waking up in Monza. He licks his lips beneath the scarf and swallows the uncomfortable realisation that the Hornet has been planning this for a lot longer than he thought. How many months has this been going through his mind? How many years has he spent carefully planning, creating the equipment he needs to get it done? 

 

From beside him, the Wasp steps out, and Kimi prepares for a fight. There’s no confrontation though, instead the Wasp just kicks some rubble aside and leans down to grab at something. It makes his stomach turn when he watches him pluck a hand from the ground, the body clearly so damaged from the explosion that there’s no resistance at all when he picks it up. The arm just falls away, and the Wasp turns the dismembered hand over. 

 

“Shrapnel,” he points out, and the Hornet smiles. 

 

“A successful test, then?” He supplies.

 

They’re gloating. They both know that they have the upper hand right now, that they have control, and they’re just prolonging the encounter. They’re trying to get both Kimi and Esteban to loiter in the radiation for long enough that they become sick enough that it kills them without any effort. 

 

“Perhaps we should all get acquainted,” the Hornet suggests. “Since you’ve decided to take your mask off? You know who we are,” he reminds with a grin. “Oh, we had some fun times, didn’t we? But I don’t think you know who this is. Bumblebee?”

 

The world around him pauses, and Kimi’s blood turns cold. All it took was one word for the missing piece to fall into place, and now… Now he knows. His eyes widen with alarm and fury, his mind tossing between the two potent emotions before deciding which one will serve him best in the moment. He selects fury, and lets wrath build up in his chest as he glares darkly at the Hornet. 

 

“Ohhhh, there it is, little Spider,” he coos - his voice high pitched and mocking. “You do know who Bumblebee is, don’t you?”

 

“Let her go,” Kimi says, his words so forceful that he practically spits them out.

 

“Who is it?” Esteban asks. 

 

“No,” the Hornet smirks, paying as little attention to Esteban as Kimi is right now.

 

“I said let her go!” He shouts.

 

But Bumblebee winces, moving back half a step to bump against the Hornet’s armour, and he realises that there’s no recognition right now. The Hornet and the Wasp might be able to see his face and know who he is, but the same can’t be said for Bumblebee. He wonders just what’s led to this situation, whether it’s serum or brainwashing or something else entirely, but he’s never felt anger like it. Kimi steps forward again, no longer able to think rationally about the situation.

 

Who can blame him? How is he supposed to think rationally when his little sister is under the Hornet’s thumb?

 

With logic thrown to the wind, Kimi doesn’t think twice about running directly at the Hornet. He shoots out his webs and attaches to the rubble on the ground, hurling two huge chunks of rock through the air directly toward the villain. Everything around him happens quickly: the Wasp stepping forward to snatch Bumblebee away from the Hornet, and the Hornet unsheathing the sword at his side to defend himself from the rock. Kimi trusts that Esteban is going to make himself useful, and Kimi just channels the emotions pulsing through him. He lifts more and more rock, flinging it all directly at the Hornet, forcing the villain into a retreat over unstable ground. He growls behind his scarf, not prepared to let him get away, and he gives chase behind him. The Hornet has to die. He doesn’t care if it’s dangerous to be here, he doesn’t care if it kills him too, the Hornet has done something to his sister and now it’s time for him to go. 

 

But the Hornet doesn’t plan on dying today, beating his wings and taking off from the ground to try and escape Kimi. He can climb buildings, but without a pair of wings of his own there’s a certain point where attempting to pursue the Hornet becomes an entirely futile effort. At least, it would ordinarily. Today he’s fuelled by something different, he’s more persistent than usual, and any kind of risk assessment he’s carried out previously - however loose and poorly calculated - has been completely forgotten. The Hornet rises, and so Kimi shoots out his web to latch onto the soles of his boots. When he tries to pull himself up, he finds that instead he’s pulling the Hornet down. Frankly, he doesn’t care what he’s doing so long as the distance between them is reducing.

 

Kimi’s energy is matched by his opponent. The Hornet puts up a fight, working his wings in overdrive to try in vain to resist Kimi’s pull on the web, and when it becomes apparent that he’s fighting a losing battle he becomes much more pliant - as if he wants Kimi to bring him down to the ground. 

 

Which, it turns out, is exactly what he wants him to do. Once the Hornet is within arms reach of him he feels gloved hands wrapping around his wrists, crushing the bracelets that reinforce his web beneath his metal thumbs, and his feet leave the ground. It’s a lot more difficult for the wings to lift two bodies, but progress is steady. Kimi gradually feels himself move higher and higher from the ground, yet still he wrestles with the Hornet without any regard for his own life. If he falls to his death, so be it. He’ll take the Hornet with him. Right now he’s keeping the Hornet occupied so he can’t do anything to provide the Wasp with backup, which means that Esteban can take him and rescue Maggie. He can get away with her and he’ll leave as soon as he can. 

 

As they fight, Kimi leans to the side and forces the two of them to change direction, lurching down and to the right. There’s only a few seconds of desperate motor sounds before the whirring gears of the wings spark and smoke and they’re falling into a heap of rock and corpses. Pedro rolls away, dislodged from his shoulder and thrown like scrap across the debris. Kimi feels the brunt of the collision, groaning as he finds himself crushed between the Hornet on top of him and the rubble beneath him, but he doesn’t let his pain distract him - he can afford to be hurt later, if this doesn’t kill him. 

 

Trying to push the Hornet off him is a monumentally difficult effort, even if he plays dirty and tries to kick him between the legs. But his suit has been reinforced since that trick last worked, and the Hornet pushes him back down with a second wind. 

 

“You know,” he growls between gritted teeth. “I had you. You did this. If you didn’t leave, I wouldn’t have needed a new assistant.”

 

“Fanc,” he grunts, the scarf around his face falling away. 

 

It doesn’t matter much, it’s hardly offering him anything in the way of protection, but it does mean that his mouth is now uncovered. And with how much force he’s been using to fight, it means that it’s exposed the fact that he’s got spit all over his lips and chin. When the Hornet sees what’s been uncovered… He stops. Rather than continue the struggle against him, he moves back, sitting on his feet as he continues to straddle Kimi’s hips.

 

Somehow, that’s more unnerving than when he was fighting. 

 

“It’s true,” he whispers, reaching out for Kimi’s hand. 

 

He flinches away, but he’s got little choice other than to let it happen. He can’t push the Hornet off him, the Hornet still has the upper hand despite his rage, and so the Hornet is unopposed in investigating further. He takes Kimi’s hand in a way that’s almost delicate, despite the clear animosity between the two of them, and he pulls the glove off. Kimi winces as it’s cast to one side, but it’s far worse when he watches as the sleeve of his suit is pushed up too - past his elbow - giving the Hornet a perfect view of the darkness spreading along his arm. His hand moves to his wrist, holding him steady as he leans down to examine what’s happened to him.

 

Kimi watches him silently, catching his breath as his eyes follow his every movement. 

 

“Fascinating,” he mutters. 

 

Kimi doesn’t know what he means. How the Hornet can know what he’s looking at when he doesn’t know what’s happening to his body is beyond him. He uses the moments he’s been given to recuperate wisely, and with the Hornet distracted he finally manages to find the strength to push destabilise and usurp him. He forces him backwards and gets quickly to his feet, surveying his surroundings to ascertain where his sister has gone in the chaos.

 

Bumblebee has climbed a mountain of rubble with her two birds on her shoulders, Esteban and the Wasp fighting beneath her. The Wasp might not have a sword, but he’s still fighting Esteban tooth and nail. Both sets of armour look to have taken a beating, and the fight between them is even enough. If Kimi intervenes, he can get to his sister and get her to safety and they can leave before anything else bad can happen, but he’s taken too long to make his decision and the Hornet is once again barrelling down on him.

 

It’s not just the Hornet this time, he’s brought in backup. The Swarm. It’s a much depleted Swarm, all with glowing red eyes, and Kimi breathes a sigh of relief. He’s never been so happy to see a bunch of exploding metal drones, but red means they aren’t nuclear. Maybe they’re busy undergoing a refit, and next time out they’ll prove to be more of a threat, for now he knows he can take a couple of hits - so long as they aren’t too close to his unprotected hand or his head. So Kimi starts to run, stumbling as the rubble beneath him shifts, and he tries to think of a new plan.

 

The first thing he does is run towards Pedro, crouching down to slide and ride the rubble like a wave as he grabs the little robot whilst passing by.

 

“Thank you for saving Pedro, Silver Spider!” Pedro declares as he’s placed back onto his shoulder.

 

“Any time, little buddy,” he assures, straightening his body to maintain his momentum. 

 

He runs toward Esteban instinctively, knowing that whatever suicide mission his mind can conjure up to try and save Maggie will likely require Esteban to be successful. As he approaches, he manages to get a couple of blows in against the Wasp himself to divide his attention - striking the back of his knees to make him falter - but the brief moment of confidence that comes with such an action is quickly followed up by the soul crushing realisation that rather than assist Esteban, he’s just made things worse. A lot worse. Because now they’re together, and taking them out with a Swarm full of exploding drones is going to be a lot easier when they’re together.

 

Maybe there’s a reason that thinking logically and rationally helps win fights.

 

“We need to run,” Esteban shouts to Kimi, and that flash of lucidity is gone.

 

“No!” He responds forcefully. “We can’t leave Maggie!” 

 

“We can’t win,” Esteban counters. “If we stay, we die and she’s with them. If we leave, at least we can try again!”

 

“You should listen to your friend, little Spider,” the Hornet goads, nodding to his Swarm to start to descend. “You can always try again.”

 

It infuriates him to be teased over something like the safety of his sister, but the anger that surges through him is clearly deliberate. The Hornet wants him angry, he wants him to make impulsive, rash decisions that end badly for him. If he keeps fighting, he gives him exactly what he wants. If he keeps fighting, he’s just going to weaken himself until the Hornet can win. If he keeps fighting… 

 

“Silver Spider, Pedro has calculated that the odds of survival whilst remaining in battle at less than one in one-point-seven million!”

 

He growls, wanting to pluck the little robot from his shoulder and toss him to one side until he can disprove the odds, but they’re stacked helplessly against them. Kimi looks past both villains, up to where Bumblebee is sitting on a throne of rubble, and he gets down onto his knees. He wants to run up to her and snatch her away, pull her all the way back home and hold her so nothing bad ever happens to her. With the Hornet and the Wasp between them, all he can do is beseech her with his eyes, but she makes no move to get to her feet and follow. In fact, all she does is wave her hands, and the two birds on her shoulders flutter down towards them.

 

The same gas as before is emitted, which does nothing at all to the Hornet, the Wasp, or to Esteban. But Kimi - on his knees and so desperately focused on his sister to notice - breathes it in deeply through his nose. It takes no time at all for his head to start to cloud and his vision to start to shrink. His body starts to feel heavy and he can feel himself swaying back and forth. The rubble, so uncomfortable when he’d been pinned against it just moments ago, suddenly seems like a welcome and inviting bed. A nice place to lie, with his eyes shut. Maybe a nap will leave him feeling refreshed and able to fight… 

 

Esteban’s hands move under his arms and he whines softly, protesting at being disturbed from his potential slumber, before he’s picked up entirely. It feels as if he’s floating as he’s carried away, his mind and body feeling entirely separate from the goings on around him. He stares up at the sky, darker than he remembered it being before. The motions of being carried away are almost enough to lull him to sleep, but as they travel and he breathes in fresh air once more he slowly starts to come back from the edge. He once again becomes conscious of his surroundings. 

 

They land beside Ollie - still somewhat sleeping - and Kimi has no chance at all to process any of what’s happened. Like always, it’s just a case of pushing it to one side to tackle the task at hand. Right now, the task is getting back to their hotels. 

 

“I’ll take him to his room,” he slurs, rubbing at his eyes as he peels his mask off Ollie’s face and pulls it back over his own. “I need you to find iodine tablets and anti-vomiting medication, hm? Buy enough for all three of us,” he instructs. “Then, come to Ollie’s hotel room. I want you to look after him tonight.”

 

“And you?” Esteban asks. “Are you just going to run off after the Hornet again? It’s suicide, Kimi. We need a plan.”

 

He nods, looking at Pedro sadly. 

 

“I know,” he agrees. “But I need to talk to my parents. They need to know the truth, eh? The Hornet kidnapped my sister.”

 

Esteban nods, reaching over to squeeze Kimi’s shoulder.

 

“It’s okay,” he assures softly. “We can talk to the team together and get the equipment we need to save her.”

 

Kimi isn’t sure how Esteban knows that, and he knows that if it’s anything like the confidence that he projects then it’s complete bullshit, but he appreciates the sentiment. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it will be okay. He nods his head in thanks, and the two part ways, Esteban on his quest to pick up medicine whilst Kimi picks Ollie up carefully in his arms and swings back through the streets of Mexico City. 

 

It’s a small miracle that he doesn’t wake up during the journey - it would be one awkward conversation to explain this away, after all - though he feels a lot more anxious when he takes Ollie back to his room and he still hasn’t woken up. By the time Esteban’s arrived, he’s changed out of his Silver Spider suit and back into his usual clothes, placed Pedro into idle mode and tucked him into his bag, and practically paced a dent into the carpet at the foot of the bed. 

 

“Go on,” Esteban says softly, placing his medication into his hand. “Go to your family. I’ll let you know if anything happens to Ollie.”

 

“Thanks,” he whispers, voice cracking more than he’d necessarily like it to, dry swallowing the iodine tablets on the way to his parents’ suite. 

 

He knows he needs to knock on the door and explain everything to them, and has to come clean about it all. He has to tell them that he’s the Silver Spider, he has to explain what happened to him over the summer and how that’s now almost certainly happened to Maggie. He has to tell them that it’s his fault and that he’s going to save her. The walk from Ollie’s room to theirs is agonising, and once he’s there fear and guilt flood his body to the point that he freezes opposite the door for what feels like an age. In reality, it’s almost certainly less than a minute between arriving at the room and actually daring to lift his fist to knock, but it feels so much longer. It’s time that he’s wasting. Time that his parents don’t know Maggie is in danger, time that Toto and the team back at the factory aren’t working on a solution, time that he isn’t spending making a plan. 

 

Kimi exhales as he knocks on the door, his whole body shaking, and it takes every bit of strength in him not to break down in tears just waiting for someone to answer. He has to remain composed, he has to be able to talk, he’ll deal with their anger when it comes - because what kind of parents wouldn’t be furious that he’s put his sister in such a dangerous situation? - and beg for their forgiveness if they’ll hear him out. 

 

When the door opens and his mother spies his distress, he’s pulled into her arms without question. Kimi, despite trying so hard to be rigid and strong, melts against her with a sob and defaults to whimpering out his words in Italian.

 

“Mamma, I’m so sorry! Maggie, s-she… It’s all my fault mamma!”

 

“Topolino, what are you talking about?” She coos softly.

 

As he’s pulled into the room, her finger comes to swipe across his cheek to dry his tears. 

 

“Maggie!” He repeats. “She’s– She’s– She’s gone and it’s all my fault, mamma!”

 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Veronica asks him gently. “Did you have a nightmare, my love? She’s sleeping in her bed. Come on, let me show you.”

 

The fact that his parents have no idea that she’s gone makes him feel so much worse. The Hornet must’ve plucked her from her bed without them noticing and now not only does he have to explain what’s happened to them, but he has to be there for the moment of realisation. He hiccups, which catches his father’s attention from where he’s sat watching the television - the news obviously covering the blasts that’ve taken place in the city. He wonders if the smell of death has clung to him, if they’ll be able to tell from his singed hair that he’s part of what happened even before he confesses it all to them. But he forgets all that quickly, his breath catching in his throat, as his mother pushes open the door to Maggie’s bedroom just a crack. It’s enough for him to see inside, but not so much that light leaks in and awakes her from her slumber…

 

And it’s just as well that his mother was so cautious, because Maggie is there. She’s asleep, peaceful and calm, not a hair out of place as she breathes lightly. She’s clinging tightly to Bombo, swaddled in duvets and a silky nightgown, and his heart and mind twist.

 

“What?” He asks pathetically.

 

“It was just a nightmare, topolino,” his mother whispers, rubbing circles on his back to soothe him. “She’s okay. Why don’t you spend the night with us? There’s another bed we can use, and I’ll be here to help with your dreams.” She prompts. 

 

Kimi blinks, watching her as if she isn’t real. Surely she can’t be real. Bumblebee never removed her mask, but Kimi knows it was her. He felt her. Bumblebee was Maggie, and the Hornet used her for his sick experiments! His hands are trembling and he wants to rush forward to touch her, to confirm that she isn’t just an illusion, but whether he’s had a nightmare or not, he knows his mother won’t be pleased at all if he wakes her. 

 

“Oh,” he says simply instead, sniffling and wiping his eyes. 

 

He’s going crazy, there’s no other explanation available.

 

“Come on, let’s get you settled. I’ll run you a nice hot bath, hm?”

 

Kimi wipes his eyes once more and shakes his head, stepping back from his mother’s grasp.

 

“No, no, it’s okay mamma,” he whispers. “You’re right. It was just a nightmare. I’ll go back to my room now.”

 

“Are you sure, baby?” She tilts her head. “I know you’re all grown up, but even grown ups need a cuddle from their mamma every now and again.”

 

“I’m sure,” he squeaks, plastering on a tearful smile to try his best to convince her. “I’ll come back if I have another nightmare, I promise.”

 

“As long as you know that I’m here for you,” she whispers, pinching his cheek softly. “I love you, topolino.”

 

“I love you too, mamma,” he replies.

 

“Good,” she smiles, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “I’ll always love you, Andrea. No matter what you do, or who you are, or what happens. Nothing will ever change that.”

 

Kimi sniffles once more, nodding his head even though he knows that if this conversation had gone the way he expected it to go, those words would be the furthest thing from the truth. There’d be no love left for him if Maggie wasn’t tucked safely in her bed. And the worst part of it is, he wouldn’t even have been able to blame her. He wouldn’t have deserved his mother’s love if he’d done something like that.

 

“Good night, mamma.”

 

After whispering his parting words, and being kissed on the cheek once again, he’s sent on his way back to his room. Whilst he walks the familiar corridors he slips his phone out of his bag to send a text to Esteban, desperate to see if there’s any update on Ollie at all, but when he unlocks his phone he can see that he’s got a couple of notifications. An influx from the GPDA group chat, of course, where a slightly buzzed George is doing his best to try and perform a wellness check on all of the drivers after the explosions in the city. One from Esteban, which does indeed confirm that Ollie’s awake - and that he woke up quite promptly after he left. And finally, one from Sergi. 

 

His message contains just one word, but the way that it makes him feel he might as well have been sent a novel. All the blood rushes from his face, and he feels as if he might pass out where he’s come to a stop in the corridor. It’s one word, but the implications are far reaching. It’s just one word, but it changes everything.

 

Venom. 

 

The darkness in his veins and his saliva, it’s venom. 

Notes:

Oops, looks like we had another episode of chapter mitosis. So, uh, now we're at 18 chapters! I just love making more work for myself!

This chapter honestly almost turned into an E rating (if anyone wants to write an AU of an AU where the make out between FP1 and FP2 goes further... You have my eternal blessing xD) but I think we have a nice balance of sweetness, steamy Bearnelli encounters, and, well... Things :] Hope you all like Bumblebee!

As always, comments are greatly appreciated. Come yell at me on Tumblr or Discord too if you fancy! Same time next week?

Chapter 14: Issue 14: A Soft Place to Land

Mexico City, Mexico
Sunday 26 October 2025

 

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

 

Kimi’s heart pounds in his chest, the deafening roar of blood pumping through his body, as he floats back to his hotel room. He’s entirely dissociated, the corridor swirling around him. The pattern on the carpet blends with the paint on the wall which in turn becomes the ceiling. Pictures feel like they’re moving towards him, strange silhouettes reaching out their long, dark arms. With every step it takes, his room feels as if it’s gotten further away, his legs growing weaker and his vision more confused.

 

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. 

 

But he can see it. He can see the door with the chrome plated room number shining under the warm corridor lighting. 907. His key card is in his pocket and he reaches for it, hands shaking. It takes several goes to get the scanner to register his card.

 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he mutters desperately beneath his breath.

 

When he’s finally awarded with a green light and a subtle buzz, he pushes down the handle and falls into the room - quite literally. He’s on his hands and knees on the carpet, letting the door swing shut behind him, as the weight of it all consumes him. 

 

Venom. 

 

That was the extent of the text that Sergi had sent him, but it feels as though it’s dealt a critical blow to him. He’s venomous. Something within him has changed fundamentally, to the point where the blood that pumps through his veins and the saliva that drips from his lips is toxic. What sustains him could kill others. Kimi inhales sharply, his back arching, and he feels a sob tear from his chest. He can’t think about the implications right now, can’t think about where it came from or how it happened, all he can think about is the sick joke the universe is playing on him. Everything he’s done, everything he’s sacrificed, all the pain and torment he’s been through to try and keep other people safe, and his reward is to become pure evil? The darkness on his arm is a wretched personification of the corruption spreading inside of him. 

 

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. 

 

The beating of his heart feels different now. A toxin is surging through his body with his pulse. He wonders if it might be killing him slowly, and for a quiet moment there’s a voice in the back of his head - loud enough to be heard over the crescendo of panic and chaos filling his mind - that hopes it is.

 

He physically shakes his head to try and dislodge the thought from his brain, sniffling back any more tears and cramming down the sobs trying to escape from his lungs as he decides to focus. Clearly there’s not going to be any kind of benefit from feeling any emotions about this situation, so he instead needs to push them all away and think logically. Once compartmentalised, he can begin.

 

The facts of the matter are simple. At the start of the year, there was no darkness on his body and no venom in his veins. He was Kimi, with no particular oddities other than the well documented changes that came with being bitten by a spider as a child. The first time that anyone saw anything amiss was Ollie, in Monza, when the small black spot on his shoulder appeared. It gives him a timeline that this change could’ve happened in: somewhere between Melbourne and Monza. It’s not as though he’s had a normal first season in Formula 1, and really he has plenty of opportunities to consider, but it makes sense that it would be more recent. With how quickly the colouration on his arm has spread, if something had happened earlier in the year he would’ve known a long time ago. But the two moments that stand out to him as potential leads are far more recent than that, anyway. Silverstone, or Monza.

 

Both times, he was injected with something in his left shoulder. Both substances were completely unknown to him. The Hornet turned him evil, and Mercedes brought him back. A serum and an antidote. One of them has done something to him, but without knowing which it’s impossible to know if it’s an intended consequence or not. If it’s the antidote, then this is an unfortunate side effect, because Mercedes would never try to hurt him. If it’s the serum, then perhaps the Hornet intended on this all along? Perhaps that’s why his blood has turned to venom but he hasn’t noticed any kind of adverse effects on his own health? Perhaps that’s why the Hornet knew where to look, how he knew what was happening before even he did? Perhaps the Hornet wasn’t just satisfied with control over his mind, but he wanted to turn him into a biological weapon.

 

It’s a conclusion that frightens him, despite his best efforts to push his emotions away. He manages, against the odds, to push himself into a sitting position and then transition to standing. He moves away from the door and turns on the light to the bathroom as he steps inside and observes himself, clinging onto the porcelain rim of the sink so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

 

Kimi is perfectly used to having powers that others don’t, after all - he’s had the ability to shoot webs from his wrists since he was a little boy! - but this is different. This is a change that is inherently dangerous, and with the physical mark left on his arm and chest it’s a change that is obvious and clear. It’s a warning sign to the world. He pushes up his sleeve, enough to see the way that his body has changed, and he shivers at the message that screams back at him.

 

What is here is dangerous and repulsive. 

 

He is dangerous and repulsive.

 

Kimi feels another traitorous wave of emotion crash over him, currents of shame, anger and loathing swirling up like a whirlpool and threatening to pull him under the white foam that angrily beats against stormy waters, but he doesn’t let it take him. He pushes it aside again - the way that he feels as if he’s teetering on the edge of personhood, the way that he feels further and further detached from his humanity - and he pushes himself up. Out of the bathroom, away from the mirror, into the darkness of his room and over to his bed.

 

Emotions aren’t going to help him now, what is going to help him is figuring out what having venom means. What does it mean for him and his body? What does it mean for the people around him? How can he turn this into something he can use? If there’s even the tiniest of chances that this wasn’t a deliberate act by the Hornet, then there’s a chance that he now has a weapon he doesn’t know about - a weapon he can’t prepare to combat - and Kimi needs to harness that to its potential.

 

In the name of science and discovery, Kimi steels himself and gets straight back up from his bed as quickly as he sat down. He has to keep momentum, has to keep pushing forward, and right now that means grabbing the room service menu from the side and lifting up the receiver to call reception and place an order, turning on the light on the wall absent-mindedly as he does. He visits the bathroom again - not daring to turn the light on this time - bracing himself before splashing his face with water as he waits the short amount of time it takes for his food to be brought to him. 

 

It isn’t long at all before there’s a knock on his door, and Kimi pats his acne riddled face dry with a towel. He places it haphazardly to one side and takes a moment to make sure he’s as composed as possible - darkness on his arm very carefully hidden - before he goes to answer it. There’s a well dressed employee with a waistcoat and a red hat on his head standing behind a trolley with several silver domes covering plates. Kimi thanks him and tips him well for his trouble, allowing the trolley to be pushed into his room before he sends the man on his way. In the dull light of the room, he can see his distorted reflection looking back at himself in the polished silverware, which threatens to undo all his work pushing things down. But he has a task at hand, and that allows him to focus on something else.

 

Kimi lifts the domes off the food, wincing as they rattle when he places them on the lower tray of the trolley, and he stares at the plates in front of him. Two steaks - rare - with side salads to avoid any kind of suspicious or questionable behaviour. He’s never looked at food and felt quite so ill before, but he has no intentions of actually consuming what he’s ordered. No, the steaks are simply the closest thing to human flesh he could identify on the menu, and that simply made them the best thing to experiment with. The closer he can get to a person, without actually abducting a person to run tests on, the less variables are involved when it comes to determining whether or not he poses a danger to people. The last thing he wants is to mistakenly believe he’s harmless because he tested his powers on broccoli. 

 

When Kimi thinks about the word venomous, he thinks about spiders and snakes that bite their prey and inject them with a toxin that kills them, so that’s the core hypothesis he’s testing. He’s got two steaks so he can run other experiments if he has anything leftover, but he needs a solid conclusion to this question first. So he picks up one of the sharp knives that’s been delivered with his food and he takes one steak, cutting it in half to allow him to see the red centre. It’s a little undercooked, even for rare, but it only makes his experiment more reliable.

 

Picking up half of a steak with his bare hands feels like dreadful manners, and he doesn’t want to think about the disapproval his mother would be looking at him with if she were here now. But thankfully she isn’t, she’s in her own suite with his father and his sister, and he doesn’t need to worry about what his mother or high society would say about his etiquette. So instead he just takes a breath, pretends that what he’s doing is normal, and leans forward to bite down on the steak as hard as he can.

 

He isn’t at all sure what he’s expecting to happen, but he feels something. 

 

It’s fuzzy at first, both the sensation and his ability to properly register the sensation, but soon he narrows in on it. He realises that the feeling is coming from his teeth - from his sharp canines - and that it feels almost comparable to his blood being drawn. Except instead of feeling that something is distinctly being suctioned and removed from his body, he feels a sense of release. It’s like someone’s just taken the lid off a pressure cooker and is delicately raising it, allowing for a slow and gentle release. Gradually, as Kimi relaxes into the bite, the feeling becomes more intense and all encompassing. And then, all at once, he loses control of himself. His head feels light and the world around him grows darker, so he snaps his eyes shut and tries to pull his teeth out of the meat. It’s difficult to do when his body is filling with endorphins, but he manages to forcefully separate himself and the steak. He almost throws it across the room with how much force it takes to pull himself back from the edge, dropping it with a clatter on top of the plates, and he takes a step back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. He sniffles, licking his lips greedily, tongue running over his teeth, and he swallows the dark saliva pooling in his mouth. 

 

When he feels like he’s in control of his mind and body once more he steps back towards the trolley, peering over to look at the half steak he’s just bitten into. He doesn’t even need to pick it up to properly examine the results, but he does so all the same, turning it over in his hands to identify exactly what he’s done to it. The meat, that just a minute ago was red and almost raw in the centre, is dark black. Instead of oozing with juice, there’s venom dripping out of the steak and onto the plate beneath it. When he squeezes it, even more venom squelches out, and Kimi watches on in horror. If he thought he was straddling the tightrope between human and animal before, it begins to dawn on him that he might not be either. He might just be a monster.

 

He’s come to a conclusion about his teeth far faster than he expected to, but his plan to test if any other part of him is capable of producing venom is derailed by the urge to grab the still-whole steak and bite down into it, just as he did the first. As his teeth pierce the crust he leans back against a wall, closing his eyes as he sinks down to sit on the floor. His knees are close to his chest as his whole body relaxes, even more pressure melting from him as more and more venom is injected into the steak. It feels utterly blissful, and he stands on a fragile cliff edge where he could so easily lose himself. In the back of his mind, the rational part of him supplies that he’s been turned into a weapon so driven by the urge to feel good that he could do untold damage just seeking the high of relief and release that comes with injecting another thing with venom. In the front of his mind, in a haze of pleasure, he wonders how much better it would feel if he was biting a living thing instead of a hunk of meat that’s been long since slaughtered.

 

He’s not sure how long he remains in his trance, long enough that when he reopens his eyes he feels desperately weak and the steak in his hands is oversaturated with venom and slippery to the point he can barely hold it. It’s practically disintegrating between his fingers, with clot-like chunks falling to the floor beneath him. 

 

He blinks several times as he takes stock of himself and what’s surrounding him, and he surveys how he feels. He’s much more lightheaded than before, but the urge to bite and release his venom seems to have been curbed. It’s a realisation that hits him like relief, given he’s only got half a steak left and a carpet he needs to clean dark stains from, and he shakily gets back to his feet as he starts to work to clean up after himself. It takes time to really be able to order his thoughts properly, but he ascertains that his experiments have led to several useful conclusions.

 

Firstly, like most other venomous creatures, he excretes the toxins through his teeth. Secondly, once he’s got his teeth in something he has the urge to bite until he’s almost entirely drained himself - likely a biological instinct to make sure that the thing he’s bitten is well and truly dead. Thirdly, once he’s drained, he’s weak, but he has no further desire to attack. 

 

It’s a lot of learning, and it’s learning that he’s going to need to carefully consider going forwards. He’s going to have to find a way to monitor how he feels - whether going too long between releasing his venom does anything to him physically or mentally - and he’s going to have to find a way to get in control of his instincts. But there’s one thing for sure: until he has the answers he needs, he has to stay away from people. 

 

Dumping blackened tissues into a small bin and looking at the grey spot on the carpet that he’s attempted to clean, Kimi decides he’s done enough science and discovery for one night, and so he carries himself to his bed. He lands with a thud on top of the sheets, not bothering to try and slip beneath them, and his muscle memory outstretches an arm to grab his phone. As soon as it turns on, his face is awash with bright light and he squints to adjust to the light and read the notifications.

 

More from Sergi, unsurprisingly, who’s detailing proper medical tests and scientific experiments they’ll run once he’s back in England later this week. Some from his mother, checking up on him and reminding him that he’s not too much of a grown up to have a hug if he’s having nightmares. And from Esteban, recounting his and Ollie’s light touch radiation sickness and Ollie’s constant asks about him. 

 

Kimi’s heart sinks as he turns his phone off without replying to a single message, and in the darkness that envelopes him his emotions begin to sneak up again. Pushing them down in the first place is difficult now, but keeping them down is almost out of the question. Whenever his brain goes quiet and his hands fall still, whenever he stops doing something, they come back. They haunt him. The conversation with Sergi last week, in Austin, really set it into motion. He was doing a decent job of keeping himself in one piece until then, but now his words echo in his mind. 

 

Just a kid. A kid who’s lost months of his life. A kid who’s lost a finger. A kid who’s carrying a burden that only grows heavier by the day. 

 

His eyes are open and he can see a trickle of light coming in through the gap in the curtains, illuminating a slice of the room in a cool hue. Kimi feels small, an awfully long way from home, and he desperately wishes he could take up his mother’s offer of an embrace. But it’s not nightmares that he’s contending with, and he isn’t sure even her arms could protect him from the world anymore.

 

+ + +

 

Brackley, United Kingdom
Wednesday 29 October 2025

 

Kimi shifts ever so slightly in his seat, hands gripping the steering wheel in front of him until his knuckles turn white. His body remains stiff and rigid even as the simulated g-forces try to push him back and forth as he descends through the Senna S and into the Curva do Sol. He accelerates down the long back straight, enjoying every moment of the first Sector before braking sharply and turning to the left. Interlagos is one of the many tracks Kimi hasn’t had the pleasure of visiting before, and a Sprint weekend means limited running to properly learn and acclimatise to the track, so his time in the simulator is intense and purposeful. He needs to know the lines to take, the places to overtake, and where he can win and lose time before he makes his way to the airport next week. And then he’s got a triple header to round out the season, which means limited time to prepare between races, so somehow he’s got to squeeze in a few hours of practice for Las Vegas, Qatar, and Abu Dhabi. 

 

His schedule is packed. It’s hectic, it’s stressful, he and the rest of the team are exhausted and working flat out to cement the Constructors Championship before a few weeks of well earned rest during the winter shutdown, but Kimi couldn’t be happier. Like this, he has no time for anything like thinking. The mere concept of the Hornet, of radiation sickness, of the Wasp and of Bumblebee and of superheroism, has faded from his mind over the last forty eight hours. For once, he feels normal. As normal as a Formula 1 driver can feel, anyway.

 

But Kimi’s tenuous tether to normality can’t last forever, a fact that he is all too aware of when his trainer makes his way into the room. Kimi finishes his lap, checks his lap time and sees that he’s found another few tenths, and he settles back. It’s a satisfying enough place to leave things, and it at least means he goes into this conversation optimistic and pleased with himself. He knows it won’t last much longer. He’s on the schedule for the simulator all afternoon, so there’s no reason at all for Sergi to be interrupting him unless it’s something important. If it was just a training session, it would be on his calendar, but it isn’t. 

 

He lets go of the wheel and relaxes, looking up at Sergi as if daring him to lift him out of the seat. It’s a dare that, unsurprisingly, his trainer is more than willing to take him up on, and as strong arms tuck themselves under his knees and shoulders Kimi yelps and gets to his feet himself.

 

“Alright, alright!” He insists. “Alright, mate. You just had to ask!”

 

“I did ask.”

 

“You didn’t say anything!”

 

“I gave you a look, hm? You know the one.” 

 

Kimi huffs and rolls his eyes, because it’s undeniable. He does know the look. The look that means to follow him and do as he’s told without asking any stupid questions (which usually means without asking any questions at all). Almost every time Sergi gives him the look, it’s because he knows what’s coming and neither of them want the argument that’ll surely start if Sergi voices his request, and this is one such occasion. Kimi doesn’t want to be pulled away from his preparation for the Sprint weekend and forced into a situation where he has to think about what’s been happening. He doesn’t want to have to face what he keeps trying so desperately to bury. Sergi is a dangerous man, always trying to search for his Achilles Heel, trying to tempt him out of his shell and encourage him to open up and talk about how he feels. The time for feelings has passed, Kimi just needs to do. 

 

But it’s clear that if he doesn’t follow his trainer, then Sergi is perfectly happy to just throw him over his shoulder and drag him kicking and screaming wherever he needs to go. So he sighs - making his opinion on the situation known - and he falls into step behind Sergi as they walk through the corridors of the Mercedes facility in a relatively awkward silence. Kimi will take the awkward silence over talking any day. 

 

He’s taken in the direction of the gym, but they don’t quite make it, instead he’s led inside one of the nearby rooms that he usually only sees at the start of the season. He remembers last time he was here, being pushed to the absolute limits physically and mentally, sweating profusely until his legs practically gave out beneath him and he heard the sound of graphite against paper as notes were made. It wasn’t necessarily a test he could pass or fail - though there were targets he wanted to beat and thresholds he had to meet if he wanted to endure a full season of racing - but he felt like he’d done okay. Until George’s physical assessment had taken more than an hour longer than his own and he realised he had a lot more to accomplish. He feels like he’s accomplished a lot over the past year, but he’s not exactly ready to be thrust back into that situation again.

 

“Don’t worry,” Sergi says as the door closes behind them and he throws out an arm to encourage Kimi to sit. “I wouldn’t surprise you with this.”

 

Kimi’s grateful, sitting down in a plasticky chair. It’s a little bit like he’s visiting the doctor, except he wouldn’t dare go to a normal doctor at this point. Maybe a few weeks ago, when it was just webs he had to contend with, but now? No. He’s just going to cross his fingers and hope he doesn’t die.

 

“It won’t take long,” he promises. “Bono would have my head. Twenty minutes, maximum.”

 

Kimi nods, watching Sergi pick up an armband to measure his blood pressure. He holds his arm out dutifully for Sergi to push his sleeve up to his shoulder as it’s strapped around his bicep and inflates, the sound of oxygen and shifting fabric the only thing that can be heard. The atmosphere is growing all the more tense, and Kimi feels like they’re sitting in a balloon - and Sergi has a needle. It doesn’t take long at all for him to prick the surface and for that balloon to explode, Kimi jolting when his trainer breaks the silence.

 

“Is there a reason I have twelve voicemails from Bearman?”

 

At least it’s a gentle introduction to the subject.

 

“I haven’t spoken to him since Sunday,” he explains. “Since…” 

 

Kimi waves his free hand, and Sergi understands. Of course Sergi understands. There was a mushroom cloud in the centre of Mexico City, and Kimi’s a superhero fighting a supervillain who’s recently acquired nuclear weapons. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Kimi was doing on Sunday evening.

 

“Why not? He’s worried about you, clearly.”

 

It’s easy for Sergi to say, and Kimi can’t correct him, but that doesn’t mean that talking to him is simple. He’s seen the texts, swiped the notifications away without clicking on them so it doesn’t show up that he’s read them, and he’s becoming increasingly frantic about what happened. He’s starting to doubt that Kimi made it out alive - at the very least he ought to respond and put that fear to bed - and he doesn’t know how he made it out alive. According to the previews of messages he’s seen, Kimi’s figured out that Ollie’s last memory is of the screaming crowd, the flying birds, and the chaos that ensued, and his next memory is of waking up in his hotel room alongside Esteban with no idea how he got there. 

 

So continuing to ignore Ollie isn’t great, but what’s the alternative? Let him back in? Let him get close? What happens if he makes a mistake and he injects venom into him? Does it hurt him, or paralyse him, or worse? Can he take a gamble like that?

 

“I’m not going to,” he declares. 

 

Short-term heartbreak is a far better outcome than anything else on his mental list of possibilities, by far. Ollie doesn’t know this, of course, and that short-term heartbreak will feel world ending to him, but he can see the full picture and knows that this is the only correct, logical decision to take. And right now, Kimi can only base his decisions on logic - bringing emotion into the situation will only make things worse.

 

“Alright,” Sergi acquiesces, writing something down and looking at him. “We need more blood to test, the team wants to figure out what the venom does.”

 

Kimi nods his permission, keeping his arm out as Sergi removes the band from his bicep and starts to prepare a few needles and vials to hold the blood in. It’s not like it needs to go far, but it’s for the best that it doesn’t go all over the place - without knowing the effects of the venom there’s no telling how much damage a spillage could do. 

 

“What happened?” He asks quietly as he ties a ribbon around Kimi’s arm, starting to flick his finger against the inside of his elbow to highlight his veins.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“In Mexico,” he continues. “You’ve always told me what happened afterwards, but you haven’t said a word. What happened?”

 

Kimi curses his past self for being so open and transparent, and he wishes he’d never said a word before. Now, if he doesn’t speak, Sergi will understand the enormity of what happened. If he does speak, he’ll understand too, but he’ll feel like he’s lost an undeclared battle by voicing the truth aloud. He’s caught well and truly between a rock and a hard place, and the worst part is that Sergi doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t push him to talk, or rush him into speaking before he’s found the words, so eventually he finds that he stumbles over an answer.

 

“The Hornet was there,” he explains quietly, watching as dark ichor is pulled from his body. “He knocked people out, then tested some explosives, that’s all.”

 

Sergi says nothing, carefully capping the first vial before starting to take another worth of blood. Kimi has no idea how many tests they want to perform, or what they’re even looking for, but he’s happy to have as much taken from him as necessary now if it means he avoids any more encounters like this going forward. For the time being, though, he doesn’t take Sergi’s silence as acceptance. It’s an intimidation tactic, and it’s one that’s worked on him countless times before. He doesn’t comment deliberately, to make Kimi squirm, though more often than not it’s because he’s giving him the opportunity to confess about the chocolate bar he smuggled in. But Kimi won’t let it work on him again. He knows the game, he knows how to play it. Silence is the only way to win.

 

A second vial is closed, and he’s starting to feel a little light headed. Sergi spots this without Kimi needing to say a word and he’s given time to recover, a snack that deviates from his meal plan, and a bottle of water.

 

It’s not enough for him to budge. 

 

When he gives Sergi the thumbs up for another vial to be taken he plays with the empty bottle, squeezing it and listening to it crackle. The room is quiet enough that he can hear the steady trickle of blood gushing from his veins into the glass tube. It’s a strange thing to be able to hear. When Sergi is finally done, the needle is removed from Kimi’s arm and the puncture site is cleaned. He’s worked entirely on his right side, avoiding the left for fear of doing any more damage to him unintentionally, which does mean his dominant hand feels uncomfortably cold. Once Sergi’s put a plaster over the tiny hole in his arm and removed the ribbon tied around his bicep, Kimi wiggles his fingers and tries to get a bit more feeling back in them.

 

“I think the Hornet has done something to my sister,” he says - entirely unprompted.

 

Sergi shows no sign of being glad that he’s won their game, wrapping the ribbon around his knuckles and leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees.

 

“You’re certain?”

 

“Yes, I know it was her,” he nods. “I didn’t have to see her face to know. She was in bed by the time I got home but… But he’s done something to her. I don’t know what. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to stop him.”

 

His voice wobbles and he rues the betrayal, the smallest of cracks in the mask that he’s wearing. Of course, Kimi knows Sergi isn’t a fool, he doesn’t buy the mask for a second, but it’s enough of a reason to keep the conversation from steering back into dangerous territory. Emotions. 

 

This time, Kimi’s saved from talking about his feelings by the door opening, Sergi casually looking over his shoulder to confirm that whoever’s joined them is someone that’s allowed to know things. And naturally, Toto is allowed to know things.

 

“Kimi,” he says slowly, sitting down on the third and final chair in the room. “I’ve got bad news.”

 

Despite how sluggish he feels, Kimi sits up a little straighter and tries to make himself look like someone who can handle the delivery of more bad news.

 

“There’s been some delays with the modifications to your suit,” he explains. “It won’t be ready until the triple header.”

 

Just as quickly as he sat upright, Kimi deflates, lowering his head into his hands with a groan. His fingers run through his hair and he tugs harshly, focusing on the sharp burning sensation of his scalp. If he pulls hard enough, he can bring stinging tears to his eyes. It’s better to think about that rather than the implications of a delay to his gear, because he needs that gear.

 

“What if something happens in Brazil?” He asks.

 

“Perhaps it’s wise not to get involved,” Toto suggests.

 

Kimi’s not sure he’s ever heard more ludicrous words leave his lips.

 

“Not get involved?!” He asks, head snapping up with anger. “How can I not get involved, eh? Last time the Hornet did something, he flattened thousands of people in an experiment! An entire city is under quarantine, a whole country is locked down. He could’ve killed me, could’ve killed my sister, could’ve killed Ollie!” 

 

Sergi doesn’t bat an eyelid at that last part, but Toto certainly seems surprised by it. Not surprised enough to comment, but surprised enough that he’s clearly taking a mental note. Kimi huffs, 

 

“If the Hornet is there, then so am I,” he says firmly. “Why is my suit delayed, anyway, hm? Surely it is not that difficult to make it safe against radiation?!”

 

“We need to understand the venom,” Toto explains, gesturing to the vials of blood that’s just been drawn. “Without the suit, we keep you safe by not letting you get close to the Hornet. But we don’t know how to keep you or others safe against the venom.”

 

“I just don’t bite them, simple,” Kimi shrugs his shoulders. 

 

“Might I remind you that you haven’t signed a contract for next year, yet,” Toto says sternly. “I’d suggest not raising your voice.”

 

Kimi blinks, sitting back in his chair as he stares at Toto. He thought this was separate to his work as a driver, he didn’t expect the prospect of being replaced after just one season in Formula 1 to be used against him like this. But now that the words are out there, they can’t be taken back - not that Toto is making any attempt to take them back. Kimi holds his gaze, recovering from the shock and trying to compete with him, but he physically cannot out glare Toto. There’s a level of intimidation that comes with being a two-metre German with more money and power than Kimi could ever hope to have, and Toto is adept at tapping into it when he needs to. It makes Kimi shiver.

 

“I have to do this,” he says, voice quieter and more even now. “It isn’t a choice, Toto. If it was just the rest of the world, eh, maybe I would’ve listened to you, but it’s Maggie! My sister! If it was Jack, you’d want me to save him, no?”

 

“I wouldn’t let my son anywhere near that man,” Toto tells him. “Keep your family away, and Sebastian can’t lay a finger on them. I need you to show me that you can toe the line, Andrea. I need to know I can trust you to be my driver in the future.”

 

Kimi knits his brows together, unable to hide the hurt on his face. He doesn’t miss the fact that Toto has made the switch from Kimi to Andrea. 

 

“You don’t trust me?” He asks.

 

Toto sighs, getting to his feet and approaching Kimi. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he has to fight the urge to shrug it away.

 

“If we’re signing a contract, I need to know you’re going to be alive to fulfil it,” he explains, with a softness that feels almost forced. “I told you I wouldn’t let Jack near Sebastian, I don’t want you near him either. Stay away, Kimi. If you don’t get involved next weekend, there’ll be a contract in your inbox on Monday morning for you to sign.”

 

Kimi looks up at him, staring, already weighing up the decision that’s been presented to him. But the guilt on his shoulders is far too heavy for Toto to be able to compete with it. There’s blood on his hands from action, to ignore a situation with the Hornet is for there to be blood on his hands through inaction too. He can’t handle both, he can barely handle one.

 

“I can’t do that, Toto,” he whispers, getting to his feet. “If you won’t take me, someone will, eh?”

 

The confidence is a nice mask to wear, it makes a change to everything else that’s been bubbling up inside him, but it’s real confidence. On the track, he’s talented beyond belief. He’s pulled off audacious overtakes, he’s had bold recovery drives, he’s been more consistent than anyone ever expected. He’s going to help win a Constructors Championship in his rookie season, with several wins under his belt. If he becomes a free agent, plenty of teams will be investigating the clauses of their line up’s drivers. 

 

“Maybe I’ll text Fred,” he says with a grin.

 

He gets to his feet, wanting to leave on a high, and holds his chin up to show that he’s not going to be so easily intimidated. Though as soon as he’s left the room and the door swings shut behind him, he feels himself crumble and has to pause to put a hand on the wall and steady himself. He still feels weak from the blood that’s been taken from him, but the wind has been well and truly removed from his sails. Toto has always been such a supporter of his, even if he was reluctant to allow his involvement at first. To have that withdrawn… He feels stranded in the doldrums. Breathing is difficult, his lungs feel far shallower than he’s used to, but he struggles through somehow. He pushes against the wall, he forces himself forward, and he carries himself back towards the simulator. Kimi still has a job to do, even if the conversation has left him feeling rather shaken, and with every step he takes he tries to find his stride. Toto’s threat is almost certainly an empty one, and just his way to try and keep Kimi from running off on a suicide mission if he can’t protect him with a proper suit in time, but that doesn’t mean that he can risk a bad performance. His races from here until the end of the season need to be nothing short of monumental if he’s going to poach the vacant Ferrari seat from Ollie and make him fulfil his full Haas contract. 

 

Kimi’s so caught up in thinking through his safety net that he doesn’t realise that he isn’t alone anymore, until it’s too late and he stumbles blindly into his company. The feeling of another body against his makes him jump, but gentle hands find his shoulders to steady him and a few blinks to help focus on reality confirm who he’s found.

 

“Susie,” he exhales.

 

Almost on autopilot he leans forward, resting his head against her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. He’s still pushing down his emotions, he’s not giving up on that plan, but just for a moment he needs someone to hold him. And Susie does just that, giving him a quick squeeze without question. He doesn’t let himself linger too long, he’s afraid of what kind of Pandora’s Box might open up if he does, so he pulls back to look at her and rubs his eyes.

 

“Hi,” he says quietly.

 

“Hello Kimi, is everything alright? If my husband is overworking you I’ll be having harsh words tonight,” she assures. 

 

But Kimi shakes his head, because it’s probably for the best not to mention any of this to Susie. He’s really not sure how much she knows about what’s going on, and the less people that are involved, the better. 

 

“How are you?” He asks instead, making the polite small talk he should in this kind of situation. “How’s your candidacy coming along?” 

 

Susie’s eyes light up at that, as if she wasn’t expecting him to be following the politics of motorsport. He can see a hint of pride in her eyes, and he sinks his teeth into it. He’s not sure how long it’s been since someone was proud of him. 

 

“Good, I think. I’ve had a lot of endorsements but it’s going to be an uphill battle against Mohammed,” she acknowledges. “I’ll miss my girls if I win, but someone’s got to do it.”

 

“They do,” Kimi nods. 

 

He’s steadied himself now, doesn’t feel as if his knees are going to give way beneath him - the small talk has done its job. So he stands up a little straighter and smiles at her with a tad more confidence. 

 

“I need to get back before Bono starts looking for me, eh? Good luck, Susie. I hope you win. You’d be good for motorsport.”

 

“Thank you, Kimi,” she says gently. “That means a lot coming from you.”

 

They part ways quietly, with Susie wandering into a small room - the hallway echoing with the sound of coughing the moment the door opens - and Kimi heading back to the simulator to resume his sessions. He’s fairly sure he can find another few tenths if he puts his mind to it, and if he wants to be competitive next weekend he has no choice but to do just that. He settles back into the seat and grabs hold of the steering wheel once more, sighing as he tweaks the set up ever so slightly to see if that will give him a bit more downforce and a lot more confidence. 

 

Four races to go. He’s ready for winter break.

 

+ + +

 

São Paulo, Brazil
Friday 07 November 2025

 

Two words can be used to describe the atmosphere at the track over the last few days: Gabriel Bortoleto. The young rookie has been utterly swamped by fans and media, who’ve descended on him like vultures, and the city has been painted green, yellow, and blue in celebration of him. Kimi thought the reception he received in Imola was intense, but it’s as if a carnival has been thrown in Gabriel’s honour the entire week. As much as Kimi’s been trying to avoid everyone, he can’t pretend he hasn’t seen the countless memes that Isack and Jack have been spamming their group chat with since their planes touched down on Tuesday. He’s glad that he’s not the subject of such adoration, such scrutiny, such additional pressure - there’s far too much on his shoulders for that. The focus on Gabriel has offered him a shield, temporary invisibility. To these people, Kimi is no one, and for that he should thank Gabriel. 

 

He’ll thank him by staying a long, long way away from him and not putting his life in danger.

 

But today, Kimi needs more than two words to describe what it’s like to be at Interlagos. Whilst the fans in the grandstands are very much still cheering Gabriel’s name, he’d need to add words like wet and sodden and deluge to truly capture what it’s like to be there.

 

The whole weekend is already at risk of being rained off entirely. The forecast is worse than just bad - the FIA have had to put out documents relating to procedures in case of lightning strikes to keep the teams safe. A Sprint weekend is usually defined by its relentless activity, but Kimi has the feeling that this visit to Brazil is going to be more about hurrying up and waiting. There’s going to be a lot of red flags if last year is anything to go by, and sitting around isn’t really something Kimi wants to do. At least he’ll be able to occupy his mind with his data, and George’s, and he might be able to find more pace in the car if he’s back in the garage studying rather than running down the clock, getting nowhere throughout each session.

 

At least, if he does end up waiting around, being in the garage means Ollie can’t come and find him. He’s been trying to get in contact relentlessly, and Kimi’s just given him the cold shoulder. He’s not answered a single text, nor a knock on his hotel room door without Sergi calling ahead to confirm that it’s him and not Ollie trying to get his attention. If the blood tests Mercedes are performing clear him of any accidental danger, maybe he’ll go back to talking to Ollie, but right now avoiding him is the only guaranteed way of keeping him safe.

 

It feels like an act of God when the heavens start to ease off and the dark clouds are replaced with slightly lighter, still grey, clouds. It’s not that the rain stops, per se, but it certainly reaches a point that the FIA deem acceptable to host Practice on time. With only one hour to get the data they need for the weekend, and the forecast only deteriorating as time goes on, drivers are quick to get out of their garages and onto the track - and Kimi is no different. He follows his programme religiously, and he builds up his confidence slowly. The simulator time is always helpful, but nothing compares to rubber on tarmac. He learns where the water pools on the circuit, where streams and rivers cascade down different sections of the track, and he only spins a few times. He takes solace in the fact that everyone is spinning, and he does what he can to make a note of where he really shouldn’t be pushing in the conditions to try and limit the risks he’s taking. He still wants to go fast, but there’s a difference between trying to be fast and trying to kill himself. Besides, with only a few short hours to go before Sprint Qualifying he needs his mechanics to be ready to make his set up changes in the break, not busy trying to fix his broken car.

 

By the time the session ends, he’s feeling fairly confident. He likes the rain, he likes the track - even if he isn’t particularly well acquainted with it - and he’s ready for Sprint Qualifying. When he gets back to the garage and sees he’s finished the session P4, ahead of George, he feels even better about his chances this weekend. It’ll be enough either for the Mercedes board to force Toto’s hand and offer Kimi a contract, or it’ll be enough that Fred Vasseur agrees to meet with him before Las Vegas.

 

Kimi goes through his usual routine. He returns to his driver room, ignoring the incessant pinging of his phone, and he eats his lunch. He goes back to talk to Bono and the team about how the next session is going to go, and then he disappears with Sergi to warm up. He knows his trainer doesn’t exactly agree with his current strategy for handling things - be it his emotions, his family, or Ollie - but he also knows that in the middle of a race weekend, Sergi isn’t going to try and lecture him. So they warm up in silence, before Sergi escorts Kimi to the back of his garage, and when he arrives he finds himself standing beside George. They’ve both got their race suits on, tied around their waists, ready to jump into the car and get going, but one look from Toto tells them that they’re more ready than the weather is.

 

Glancing over his shoulder, Kimi can see why such a decision has been taken. The rain is being blown almost sideways from the force of the wind, and the droplets are so fat that it almost looks like there’s a curtain being pulled across the pit lane. If there’s no visibility just standing around waiting, then the visibility in the car will be even worse. Trying to drive in these conditions is ludicrous, and George seems content that the FIA have taken a decision about safety without him having to hound them about their responsibilities.

 

“Head back to your rooms,” Toto tells them both. “The storm is going to get worse before it gets better. When it starts to ease off, we’ll call you down.”

 

They nod in unison, and Kimi follows his teammate back through hospitality to their rooms. Just as he’s about to enter his room, George taps him on the shoulder, and Kimi looks back at him.

 

“Do you want to come in?” He offers. “I can teach you some card games. You’ll need them for Vegas.”

 

Part of Kimi just wants to turn him down and go back to waiting in his room, but George has done nothing but be kind to him over the past few weeks. He’s forgiven him without question for his outburst in Spa, without even understanding what caused it. He’s been sneaking sweets into his room the past two race weekends, and even if Kimi hasn’t dared to touch them for fear of Sergi figuring out he’s broken his meal plan it’s still touched him. George is just trying to be nice, trying to bond, and Kimi owes it to him to put in some kind of effort too. Besides, they might still end up as teammates again next year. It would be nice to have a friend.

 

“Sure,” he agrees with a nod.

 

He follows George into his room and sits down on the sofa whilst his teammate fishes in his bag for a pack of playing cards. Kimi knows a couple of basic games - solitaire, snap, and the more violent Irish snap - but anything that might come up in Vegas is beyond him. When George starts explaining the rules of poker, Kimi feels them washing over him as his mind begins to fade away. He’s a racing driver, he doesn’t like to just sit and listen to rules about a slow, thoughtful card game. Anything that doesn’t have him hurtling at hundreds of miles an hour is, well, boring. 

 

But he tries, because George is trying, and he does his best to play a decent hand. His understanding of the rules is foggy at best, half because he wasn’t listening and half because of the language barrier between them, so he loses the first couple of rounds they play. George insists he’s going easy on him, but Kimi’s win-loss ratio would suggest otherwise.

 

The walls around them shake as thunder rumbles through the building, echoing loudly down the corridor, and they both look up as the light in the room flickers.

 

“Some storm, huh?” George muses aloud. “Thank God we’re not driving in it.”

 

“Yeah, mate,” Kimi adds with a nervous laugh. “We probably won’t be driving at all at this rate, eh?”

 

“No, I think it’s meant to clear up again before sunset. As long as we’ve got about an hour we should be fine.”

 

Kimi hums, deciding that this attempt of small talk ends in the slight win category. It’s not a slam dunk, but it’s a damn sight better than things were in Australia. They’ve come a long way as teammates - further than George knows - and Kimi likes to think that their time won’t come to an end in a couple of races. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the Hornet won’t try anything this weekend, so Toto will have no reason not to send him a new contract to sign on Monday.

 

Or, he thinks to himself as his wrist starts to tingle in that familiar sort of way, maybe he won’t. 

 

“Oh, shit,” George says, glancing down at his phone. “There’s a tornado warning.”

 

Of course there is.

 

“I should go back to my room then,” Kimi says, trying to play it cool as he gets to his feet. “Thanks for teaching me, eh? I might not put much money on the line though.”

 

“Sure you don’t want to stay? There’s no reason you need to leave. And we don’t have to keep playing if you don’t want to.”

 

“No, it’s fine, I need to do some things anyway,” he says vaguely. “But thank you, I’ll see you in the garage later.”

 

Kimi puts his hand down on the table before he leaves, glad that his room is just across the corridor and he doesn’t have to go too far. He opens the door and closes it, composed as ever, just in case George is observing, before he becomes frantic. He’s tugging off his race suit and running across his room in his underwear, pulling his Silver Spider suit over his body. Without knowing what could be waiting for him, and knowing he can’t rely on the support of Doriane, Esteban, Sergi or Pedro - the human - he plucks an idle Pedro from his bag and activates him as he jumps into his boots and pulls on his gloves.

 

“Pedro,” he says, lightly tossing the awake robot onto his desk. “Do you know where the Hornet is?” 

 

“The Hornet is approximately 14 kilometres North-East of the Silver Spider!” 

 

Kimi’s whole body aches. He’s tired. He’s not sure he’s ever been so tired in his life. He remembers, fleetingly, how exhausted he felt at the end of his first triple header in Jeddah. If he reached that level of exhaustion again, he’d consider himself to be well-rested. But he picks himself up quickly and makes peace with the fact that he’s going to have to traverse a decent portion of the city, pulling his mask over his head.

 

“Do you know what he’s doing?” He asks hopefully.

 

“Pedro does not hold such information. Pedro apologises to the Silver Spider for his inadequacies!”

 

“You’re not inadequate, mate,” Kimi assures. “You can’t know what the Hornet is doing if you aren’t working for him,” he jokes weakly, patting his shoulder for the spider to jump on.

 

The little robot does just that, attaching himself carefully to the outside of Kimi’s suit, and he exhales. He’s betraying Toto and he knows it, and this might just be the end of his Mercedes career, but he can’t ignore the call. The Hornet is too dangerous to be allowed to continue unopposed, and Kimi is the only person that can stop him. He feels sluggish and lethargic, and his body so desperately wants to stay put - to collapse on the floor and shatter under the weight of everything - but he ignores that feeling and forces himself on. He has to do this, there’s simply no other option. 

 

As he’s preparing himself for action he hears a knock at the door, and a voice accompanying it.

 

“Kimi?”

 

Ollie. Shit.

 

It’s all the motivation he needs to throw himself out the window, grateful for the cloak the weather provides him with, as he starts to move through the paddock. With such awful weather and the promise of it getting a whole lot worse, everyone has taken shelter, so there’s no one to catch so much as a glimpse of Kimi as he makes his escape. 

 

Once he makes it away from the circuit, Kimi can start to swing without worrying that there might be an onlooker smart enough to put the pieces together. The buildings might not be particularly tall, but they’re dense, and that helps him to swing quickly through the streets of the city towards the Hornet. Without his replacement reinforced web bracelets, he’s not sure he’d be able to reliably swing long distances between taller buildings anyway. The countless wires that criss-cross the streets are slightly less helpful, a constant hazard threatening to snap his webs and block his way as he continues in spite of the worsening conditions - and it’s quickly making the storm in Singapore look like a refreshing April shower.

 

He crosses a highway that’s been deserted thanks to the extreme conditions and finds himself swinging through an industrial park. Kimi feels like, logically, this is the sort of place he should be stopping, but his gut tells him to keep going and the Hornet is nowhere to be seen. So he continues, skirting the edge of a forested area, until he starts to feel the urge to slow down, stop, and observe. 

 

Why he’s in a place like this, he doesn’t know. Not until he lands and jogs to a halt, looking up with a groan as he reads the sign in front of him. He almost wishes it was another military base, because at least then he might not feel so bad knocking people out if they pointed guns at him and tried to kill him. But instead, he’s standing at the entrance of a zoo. His mind is reeling at what the Hornet could possibly be planning - is he going to try and set the lions on the population?! Is he going to use his nuclear weapons to force mutations to turn already deadly predators into undefeatable monsters?

 

He doesn’t know, and quite frankly he doesn’t want to find out. He’d like to track down the Hornet and put a stop to his plan before he can start it.

 

Thanks to the storm, staff and visitors alike are sheltering indoors, which means there’s no one around to stop Kimi from jumping the ticket barriers and running inside. 

 

“Pedro, can you track the Hornet down for me?” Kimi asks hopefully.

 

His little friend scuttles down from his shoulder, ready to embark on his task, when a gust of wind blows harshly against them. Kimi staggers, just about remaining standing despite the unexpected buffeting, but Pedro doesn’t suffer quite such a merciful fate. The robot is thrown into the air and Kimi has to dive forwards to catch him in his hand, carefully enclosing his fingers around the droid until the gust passes. 

 

“Okay,” he shouts over the sound of the storm. “You stay with me instead, mate! I don’t want to lose you!”

 

“Pedro thanks the Silver Spider for his care!” 

 

With any luck, the Hornet will be inside. Although if people are inside, maybe he’d rather he’s outside. Kimi doesn’t know at this point. He can’t tell what’s right and what’s wrong. He needs a break. He won’t get a break until he’s fixed this, which is motivation enough to start moving again. There’s a map not too far into the zoo that he pauses to look at for a brief moment, long enough that he’ll be able to recall how to get around if his gut instincts start to fail him, and he heads deeper into the zoo. When he reaches a crossroads he turns left, running along a paved path with buildings on either side. There’s frogs, snakes, ants, birds, and of course… His heart sinks when he sees the sign for the spiders. 

 

Of course there’s spiders.

 

Kimi approaches the building the display is housed in with confidence, but the moment his hand touches the door he hears a distant explosion. 

 

He spins on his heels and immediately breaks out in a run, grateful that the paths are empty of people. Right now he doesn’t have to think about protecting others, he just needs to focus on the Hornet. But Kimi is exhausted, and every step he takes has him yearning for the uncomfortable bed in his driver room. He’s going to have to qualify for the Sprint Race after this - unless he’s lucky and the bad weather prevents the session from taking place. The thought just fills him with dread, almost more dread than the idea of facing off against the Hornet once again.

 

Ascending the slopes of the park, Kimi passes by rhinoceroses, giraffes, and meerkats all trying to hide from the worst of the elements. They might be wild animals, but it’s clear that they aren’t all cut out for weather as extreme as this. As much as he wants to stop and protect them, whatever the Hornet is doing has to take priority. It’s not good enough, though. He’s not good enough.

 

He’s not good enough, but still he runs. 

 

The clouds above, dark as they are, only grow darker - both because the storm is intensifying and because he’s close enough that he can finally see the shadow of the Swarm. The ‘bees’ are being thrown back and forth in the wind, struggling against nature as the Hornet attempts to orchestrate their movements. There’s no sign of the Wasp this time - something that both relieves and terrifies Kimi in equal measure. Bumblebee isn’t there either, which only confirms to Kimi that he was correct in identifying the disguised child as his sister (and, more so, that he was correct in withdrawing his family’s invitation to races for the rest of the season). 

 

Kimi approaches the Hornet slowly, trying to appear calm and confident rather than sluggish and fatigued, and he tries to study what it is exactly that the Hornet might be doing. His mind can’t produce anything though, his brain utterly turned to mush as thoughts are instead replaced by a mantra of self loathing that repeats over and over again. He staggers forward, and he knows that the effort it takes isn’t entirely because of the wind. Eventually, he’s close enough that the Hornet registers him. He gets the feeling that he was spotted some time ago, but that the Hornet has allowed him to get closer. It’s as if he can sense how tired he is, as if he wants to play with his food.

 

“Incy Wincy,” he regards him politely.

 

The Hornet doesn’t view him as a threat. Right now, Kimi isn’t all that sure he’s wrong.

 

“Fly boy,” he spits, refusing to keep the peace.

 

“I thought you were told not to come here,” he replies, smiling behind his mask, and Kimi’s brows knit together.

 

“Next time you’re going to terrorise a zoo, make sure Qualifying isn’t delayed. And why a zoo, eh?!”  

 

The Hornet just hums, turning around to look at Kimi properly. Rather than angry, he just seems mildly annoyed that he’s shown up at all. It makes Kimi’s head spin. This whole situation just feels… Off. It feels wrong. And suddenly, he’s rather got the feeling that he’s walked straight into a trap.

 

“You know, I rather miss Bumblebee,” the Hornet tells him wistfully.

 

Whether or not it’s a trap, a flash of anger appears before Kimi’s eyes and his exhaustion is gone. It’s just like last time - the moment his sister is mentioned he becomes impulsive, and stupid, and reckless. The Hornet knows it, the Hornet is using it to his advantage, but being conscious of that fact isn’t enough to stop himself from doing exactly what the Hornet wants him to.

 

Kimi steps forward, fuelled by anger, and he holds his arms out in front of him to shoot webs from both wrists. They hit the Hornet, but it’s easy enough for him to sweep his arm through them and break them apart, and it’s the most he’s missed his reinforcements so far, but it’s not enough to dissuade him from fighting back. The Hornet can do as he pleases to him, and he can try as he might to harm the general public, but bringing up his sister is another thing entirely. Fury carries him into a run, his hands balling up into fists, and he throws them haphazardly as he comes close enough to the Hornet to make a punch worthwhile. It doesn’t do much against his armour, but Kimi doesn’t care about what it’s doing. Much like in Mexico, logic and reason have thoroughly been forgotten and he’s fighting on instinct alone.

 

The Hornet does little to counter him, Kimi’s blows barely affecting him given the resilience of his armour. He seems almost bored, like Kimi’s attempts to fight him are tedious, but Kimi continues his endeavour regardless. He runs past him, shooting out his webs again, but this time he sends them upward. Rather than trying to fight the Hornet directly, he’s happy enough to use his own weapons against him, his webs attaching to the ‘bees’. They’re light enough that Kimi can fling them without having to worry about his web snapping, and he sends them hurtling directly towards the Hornet. It feels reminiscent of that first desperate fight in Jeddah, and he feels every bit as desperate as he did then. He was protecting his father, now he’s protecting his sister. 

 

If the Hornet would stop going after his family, he’d probably be a much more successful supervillain.

 

But the Hornet bats the ‘bees’ away as they’re thrown towards him, easily using his ability to direct them to send them on a course far away from him before they have the chance to explode. Everything Kimi tries is entirely futile, and perhaps if he’d retained the ability to think things through before acting he’d have come up with a plan that could actually make an impact, but instead he just keeps repeating the same useless strategies. Instead he keeps trying to throw ‘bees’ at the Hornet, or to web the Hornet himself, or to punch or kick like he’s got any hope of damaging his armour at all.

 

“This is just embarrassing,” the Hornet says softly, barely heard against the intensifying winds. “I know you can be better than this.” 

 

Somehow, those words are enough for Kimi to falter. He’s not sure why he does, but he stands back and he stares at the Hornet. 

 

“You’re smarter than this, Andrea. Come on, think. How can you fight me?”

 

He’s toying with him. Kimi’s stomach twists as he processes that realisation. It’s a failure, more overwhelming than he’s ever felt. He’s a hero, he’s supposed to be able to fight the Hornet, he’s supposed to beat him, to save the world, not be subject to his pity. It’s humiliating.

 

Kimi drops his hands to his sides and squeezes them into tight fists. He can’t do this. He can’t be a hero. He’s come so far, he’s done so much, and look at him. Has he learned nothing? It’s pathetic. He is pathetic. 

 

“You’ve tried hard,” the Hornet acknowledges. “But don’t you think, perhaps, it’s time to give up?” 

 

It sounds wonderful, he has to admit. Giving up would mean the Hornet wins, but it would mean he doesn’t have to try anymore. He doesn’t have to keep fighting. He can go back to racing, socialising, and sleeping. His friends and family might be safe. The world would be in mortal peril, but… If he gives up, it isn’t any of his problem! And if he doesn’t give up, he’s clearly not doing a good enough job to actually defeat the Hornet. He doesn’t have the suit, the gear, the weapons. His allies aren’t anywhere near as trained or as coordinated as the Hornet and the Wasp are. Every odd is stacked against him, everything is screaming that failure is the only outcome, and if he keeps fighting then the Hornet is surely going to grow tired and kill him eventually.

 

Kimi’s knees buckle beneath him and he falls to the ground, placing his gloves against the pavement as he closes his eyes and hangs his head. It’s too much to handle. He can’t do it. The weight of the world on his shoulders is too heavy, and it’s crushing him.

 

He just… Can’t do it. 

 

Kimi leans down, placing his head against the ground, sniffling and letting out a sob just quiet enough that it’s drowned out by the sound of the storm around him. 

 

He can’t do it. 

 

He wants to lie down on his side here and now, to curl up on himself and let the Hornet pierce his chest with his blade. If he’s lucky, he’ll die, and he’ll never have to live with the consequences of his failures. If he’s unlucky, then perhaps the Hornet will pump him full of serum again and sink his claws even more deeply into his mind. Either way, he doesn’t have to think anymore.

 

What he doesn’t expect is a hand on his shoulder, tender and gentle, a finger moving back and forth against him.

 

“Come back to me, Andrea,” the Hornet whispers. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I’ll forgive you if you just stand up and come with me.”

 

And, God, it sounds so tempting. To finally be carried away from everything, for the box deep inside him to no longer have to be held shut. He can open it, he can let it all out, and nothing will matter because there’s no reason for him to keep it together anymore. The world isn’t relying on him, so he can just let go.

 

He sobs again, squeezing his eyes even more tightly to try and rid himself of tears before he finally looks up. The Hornet is leaning over him, and his eyes almost look sympathetic. He wants it. He needs it. He needs someone to hold him, to tell him everything will be okay, to make everything okay. Kimi never expected the Hornet to be the one to offer that to him, but here he is - palm open - and the temptation to take it is strong. 

 

But before he gets the chance to make the decision, there’s a little zap of electricity that shoots out from his side and tasers the Hornet’s hand. Pedro isn’t the most effective of weapons, but the zap packs enough of a punch that the Hornet withdraws his gesture and stands back up, wincing and shaking his hand.

 

“Pedro will call friend Sergi!” The little robot offers helpfully. “The Silver Spider does not have to rely on the Hornet! The Silver Spider has many friends who will take care of him!”

 

“Oh, be quiet, you pathetic little robot,” the Hornet snarls, leaning back over to flick Pedro away from Kimi’s shoulder. “If your friends were going to take care of you, where are they? You’re here alone, they aren’t helping you. I can help you, Andrea.”

It’s too much. It’s not enough. Kimi chokes on air. He feels desperately small as another sharp gust of wind rocks him back and forth. The stronger the wind gets, the smaller he feels, and Kimi is shrinking where he sits. But this wind is different. What was warm a few moments ago has become cold, freezing cold, and the wind becomes so much stronger than it was before. Kimi feels his whole body starting to move back and forth, and if he strains to look up he can see that the Hornet is suffering from much the same issue. His wings are flapping in the gusts, splintering and breaking with just how strong the wind is. Above them, the Swarm is rotating in a circle. 

 

Kimi gets to his feet as realisation dawns, but he’s too late to do anything to stop his body from being picked up by the wind. And everything from then happens in flashes. One moment he’s on the floor, the next he’s certain that a tornado has formed around him and is carrying him, the Hornet, and the Swarm higher and higher into the sky. He’s too disoriented to tell what’s up and what’s down, what’s left and what’s right. Gravity is no longer the dominant force his body is experiencing, the wind tossing him around like he’s nothing. Debris is everywhere, hitting against his suit hard enough that it hurts him, and the appeal of the Hornet’s sword only grows. He’s going to die like this. 

 

It’s a thought that should frighten him, but instead he just finds himself relieved.

 

He has no idea how long he spends in the vortex, being thrown about like he’s nothing. It’s a powerful reminder that, really, he is nothing. He’s failed. He’s let the world down. He can’t do it.

 

When the wind drops, and he starts to fall, he doesn’t bother shooting out his webs to try and catch himself. He feels gravity pulling him down, and he wonders for a moment what it will feel like in a few moments when his body finds dirt, or concrete, or maybe he’ll fall into the lion enclosure and they’ll decide he’s a tasty snack! But none of those things happen, because Kimi - of course - lands with a splash. 

 

The lake is deep enough to break his fall, but shallow enough that he’s quickly able to panic-swim to a place he can stand up. He thrashes against the water, helpless as he tries to make his way back to shore. Falling to his death is fine, but the water? He knows how terrifying it is to drown, and he refuses to go out that way. His fear is the only motivation he has right now, spurring him on past the pod of pelicans that honk and flap their wings in annoyance. Once the water is above his knees he can run rather than wade, and as soon as he’s back on dry land he’s falling forwards and desperately clawing against the saturated sand. His whole body is shaking from shock. 

 

In the distance, he can still hear the roar of the wind and the rumble of thunder. The world around him has calmed, but it hasn’t stilled. It takes several long moments for him to find the strength to look up - whether those moments are seconds or minutes, he isn’t quite sure - but when he does he sees more dark clouds on the horizon. Kimi finally decides to just lie there and watch, staring up at the sky as he watches another funnel cloud form some distance away from him this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers that the tingling in his wrist has stopped, that there’s no gut instinct telling him to run towards danger anymore, and he lets himself dream that the tornado killed the Hornet. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he doesn’t have to do this again. The threat has been disposed of, and he’s finally free. 

 

But Kimi knows he isn’t lucky, and the likelihood of such an eventuality is slim.

 

He sits up, slowly, hugging his knees close to his chest as the pelicans around him investigate his presence. Kimi lets them, not bothering to move even when they come close enough to try and peck at his suit. Their curiosity is the only thing that punctures the chill he feels deep inside him, the numbness that wraps around him. It would be so easy to just stay here forever. 

 

Staying here forever isn’t an option, though. Not when the tornado on the horizon dissipates. Not when the heavy, dark clouds above start to part. Not when the rain starts to ease. Kimi remains in his trance regardless, until a scuttling little spider crosses the shore. The pelicans are not at all pleased with Pedro’s arrival - squawking, flapping their wings and trying to peck at him as he approaches - but the little robot is undeterred. 

 

“The Silver Spider must return to the Autódromo José Carlos Pace!” Pedro declares brightly. “The Silver Spider cannot be late!”

 

The Silver Spider wants to close his eyes and take a very long nap.

 

Pedro crawls up his suit and settles on his shoulder, and Kimi has no choice but to fight the lead weights holding him down. If he doesn’t return, then his cover will be blown. If he doesn’t return, it won’t just be Toto refusing to give him a contract for next year. If he doesn’t return, then he has nothing. 

 

So he carries himself slowly and silently through the zoo, stumbling over his exhausted legs, ignoring the crowds leaving the safety of buildings and going back to their day who point and stare like he’s one of the attractions. Once he’s out, he swings carelessly, not giving thought to keep himself concealed. He’s lucky that the paddock is far too busy to acknowledge his return, teams preparing for the new session start time. It allows him to easily sneak back into his room and to start getting changed, turning Pedro into idle mode the moment he returns to keep him from alerting George or any other members of Mercedes staff. 

 

He steps out of his boots and pulls off his gloves and mask. He peels his sodden suit away from his skin and searches for a towel to quickly dry himself before he reaches for his fireproofs. Kimi sits on the edge of his bed as he starts to dress himself, managing to tug on the first layer of his clothing before there’s a knock at the door and it’s opening inwards without giving him a chance to reply.

 

Kimi is therefore sitting in his Nomex shirt and long johns when he’s interrupted, his Silver Spider suit dripping dry on the back of his chair. He’s lucky that it’s Bono that’s opened the door, because Bono already knows, and Bono doesn’t require an explanation. Kimi drops his hands into his lap and looks at his engineer, blinking quietly.

 

“Christ, kid,” Bono utters.

 

And Kimi sobs.

 

He clenches his hands into tight fists, squeezing and applying pressure so that his nails press harshly against the heel of his palm. But that same force through his mechanical finger is enough to break the skin, and whilst the puncture feels wonderful - feels like a physical path for all of the weight on his shoulders to flood from - Bono’s muffled reaction clearly indicates that an onlooker doesn’t regard it in quite such a positive light. Kimi doesn’t hear him, too focused on the blood pooling in his palm, barely even aware of his surroundings until deft fingers are moving against his. They’re gently releasing the tightness he’s holding, forcing his fingers to relax, and then a tissue is pressing against the cut on his hand to try and stem the bleeding.

 

Kimi leans forward as he keeps crying, his forehead finding Bono’s shoulder, and another hand winds its way onto his back. The touches are soft and tender. Everything that Bono does is calculated and precise, from the motion of his hand rubbing soothing circles against his back, to the moment he switches to a new tissue for his palm. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t try to say anything to stop Kimi’s tears, not that Kimi feels as though anything could stop them now. 

 

Trying to bottle things up for so long has backfired dreadfully, and now it’s consuming him entirely. One moment he’s sobbing because he doesn’t have a contract for next season and his racing career might be over, the next because he’s thinking about the charred corpses in Baku, and the next because of what he did in Belgium, in Hungary, in the Netherlands. He thinks about the danger his family are in and it tears him apart, he thinks about the patchwork of scar tissue his body has become and he mourns the person he used to be. 

 

The grief he feels is insurmountable. He doesn’t recognise who he is anymore, inside or out. He feels alone, outnumbered, outgunned, with no path to victory. Toto was right, he shouldn’t have gone to fight the Hornet, because even though he’s walked away unharmed he’s still taken another step on his slow, inevitable march towards a premature demise. All the potential people have seen in him, the hopes he had for himself, it’s all going to be for naught. 

 

He crumples physically, folding himself further against his engineer, until two strong arms finally wrap around him and pull him close. Bono’s never been a tactile person, certainly not in the way that Kimi is, but he’s giving Kimi exactly what he needs right now. He’s an anchor, keeping him grounded to reality. He’s siphoning off the weight on his shoulders, squeezing him hard enough that the pressure is seeping out of him and he’s able to breathe. The physical tightness is combatting the metaphorical chokehold his body has been trapped in for far too long. The tendrils of anxiety and expectation melt away, and his body finally starts to feel like it’s free again. It’s enough that he’s able to let out a wretched sob and vocalise exactly what he’s feeling.

 

“I can’t do it!” 

 

Bono holds him tighter, not responding. It’s for the best, because Kimi isn’t done. Now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

 

“I can’t do it,” he weeps again, more softly this time. “I can’t beat him. I failed, I failed! I failed. I can’t do it! I can’t do it!”

His words are damn near incomprehensible, slurring together in a desperate sadness, and as he continues down his spiral he’s finally interrupted.

 

“I’ve got you, mate,” Bono whispers. “It’s okay.”

 

“It’s not okay! Look at everything I’ve done! People are dead because of me!” 

 

He’s trying to push Bono away, trying to explain things the way that he sees them, but after months of bottling and burying things his perception of the truth has become skewed. His reality, his idea of himself, he’s morphed and manipulated it into something that only he sees. His failures and weaknesses are magnified, his successes and his strengths have been forgotten. 

 

“Look at everything you’ve done,” Bono parrots quietly. “How many people are alive because of you, hm? Jeddah, Miami, Monaco, Montreal - you’ve saved more lives than you can count, kid.”

 

“It’s not enough,” he mumbles tearfully, wiping his nose against Bono’s shirt. 

 

“What would be enough?” Comes the rhetorical response. “He’s got equipment far beyond what you can get your hands on, he’s not a rookie driver, you’re doing everything you can against him.”

 

“I don’t want to die,” Kimi whimpers, holding onto Bono more tightly. “He’s gonna–”

 

“We won’t let you die, mate,” Bono assures him. “He’s gonna have to get through us if he wants to get to you, alright?”

 

They’re bold words from a man without a skin-tight superhero suit of his own, but Kimi gets the feeling that Bono means it. He’s not just speaking for himself, but for Sergi, for Toto, for Pedro and Esteban and Doriane. It’s easy to feel as if he’s completely on his own, but he isn’t, is he? He’s got a team around him, even if he’s tried at every opportunity to block them out and push them away. He’s doing it now, avoiding Ollie, making sure his family are safe in Italy rather than at the track with him. 

 

“You just need to let us in, kid,” Bono whispers.

 

He sniffles again, sighing, and now when his body feels heavy it’s less because the weight of the world is sitting on his shoulders, but more because Bono’s arms are safe, and warm, and he could really do with a nap right about now.

 

“Come on,” he encourages, pulling back and forcing Kimi to look up at him. “Qualifying starts in twenty minutes, we need to head to the garage.”

 

Kimi swallows and nods, reluctantly leaving the safe hold of his engineer and exhaling. He looks about his room for his race suit, preparing to compartmentalise things once more - but only briefly this time. Bottling it up has gotten him so far, but if he wants any chance at defeating the Hornet and stopping him from wreaking havoc and destruction, he has to let people in. He has to work as a team. That starts after Sprint Qualifying is done - Bono’s clearly going to make sure of it.

 

Once he’s dressed and he’s splashed enough water on his face to look composed enough for the cameras, he walks back to the garage with his engineer. Sergi meets him there, taking him through a shortened warm-up session, before he’s being ushered forward by the team and helped into the car. Conditions are still damp, but with the forecast the way it is for the rest of the weekend a shower is the best window for a session they’re going to get.

 

It doesn’t stop Kimi from putting the car on Sprint Pole.

 

+ + +

 

São Paulo, Brazil
Sunday 09 November 2025

 

“We need to switch positions by the end of this lap, Kimi. Recommend T6, but I’ll leave it up to you.”

 

Kimi growls in his helmet, biting down on his straw (that hasn’t been working for the past fifteen laps anyway). He’s driven one Hell of a race. The field is down to thirteen cars with how awful the weather’s been. There’s been red flags, safety cars, and incidents galore. It’s a miracle that Kimi’s made it this far into the race, and even more of a miracle that he’s still P2. But after a pointless weekend in Mexico allowed George to take the Championship lead, Oscar has bounced back with almost complete and utter domination. He won yesterday - so the team asked Kimi to trade positions with George on the last lap - and after taking pole for the race he’s about to win again. So, naturally, the team wants Kimi to give up P2 for George. He’ll still leave Brazil leading the Championship, but the extra three points will give him a marginally increased buffer before the final push of the triple header.

 

It’s a tough ask. Kimi’s trying to consolidate P5 in the standings, with he and Lando trading back and forth on a semi-regular basis. If he kept P2 today, a strong end to the season might even be enough to pip Charles for P4. If he didn’t know that his radio was broadcast to the world, he might quip back that he’d be more willing to swap positions if he had a contract for next season. It’s difficult to be loyal to a team that’s hesitating so much. But if he doesn’t get that Mercedes offer, he needs to demonstrate to other teams that he’s a team player. 

 

So into Turn 6, he pulls off the racing line and lets George through.

 

“We are going to discuss this later, eh?” Kimi dares to bite.

 

“Copy that, keep your head down these last few laps. You’re driving well, just keep it clean.”

He does keep it clean. He brings the car home P3, and George is the first one to congratulate him when he climbs out of the car. It’s less of a congratulations and more of a thank you, a hug and a handshake and an unspoken promise to return the favour in the future if he needs it, one day. Kimi goes to the team at the barrier and shakes a few hands, but it’s clear to all that he’s less than amused by the situation at hand. They respond accordingly, patting him on the shoulder and commiserating that he had to give up a P2, but thanking him for his team spirit. 

 

He’s grateful for it, not particularly in the mood to celebrate, which is something that continues on the podium. He lifts his trophy with a tight lipped smile and sprays his champagne less vigorously than he did two weeks ago in Mexico - the novelty of a podium lost given he should’ve been a step higher. 

 

Kimi attends the post-race press conference dutifully, but relatively few questions come his way. There’s one, asking if a contract is close to being signed given he so selflessly gave a position to his teammate, and he makes a weak joke in response. Other than that, the press are solely focused on George and Oscar and their title battle. 4 points separate them with three Grand Prixes and one Sprint Race to go before a Champion is crowned in Abu Dhabi. It could go either way. One mechanical issue could spell disaster for either driver and almost guarantee the other ascends to Championhood. 

 

Hopefully, those are the kinds of questions that he’ll be asked next year.

 

When the media is done, Kimi excuses himself to go and change before the team debriefing starts. He reeks of sweat and champagne, and if he’s going to spend the next few hours hashing out the decision to swap places he’d like to have a shower beforehand. Even if it’s terrifying, even if he still can’t face the water, the shower is where he comes up with his best arguments. 

 

Walking away from the group, he heads back to hospitality and wanders to his driver room, race suit already down to his waist as he pushes the door open. After the conversation with Bono on Friday, that thankfully hasn’t come up again just yet, he’s feeling a little lighter than before. Not perfect - a long way from perfect, really - but strong enough that he can keep going. He knows, once the debrief is done, that Toto will send George on his way and hold Kimi back. He knows he’ll be chastised for daring to disobey him and go after the Hornet. He hopes that Bono will stand up for him, and that as a team they’ll come up with a plan. In Vegas he should have a new suit and some weapons, and they can figure out where to go from there. They can spread the burden, share the load, and Kimi will feel in control and calm once again.

 

Kimi closes the door behind him and moves his neck from side to side, trying to work out the lingering stiffness from a long race. His body pops and cracks.

 

“Kimi?”

 

And now, his body jumps too. 

 

He narrowly avoids kicking the door and smacking his head when he spins around, not expecting another person to be in his room, but he’s not sure he can really be all that surprised. Not when sitting before him is Oliver Bearman, the man he’s been ghosting since their date in Mexico ended with nuclear terrorism.

 

“Ollie,” he exhales.

 

Kimi tries to think about what Bono said a few days ago - that he’s not alone, that he just needs to let people in - but when he sees Ollie it’s difficult to put those words into practice. It’s one thing to open up to his team, it’s another entirely to open up to Ollie. There’s nothing he can do, practically speaking, to help, so continuing to push him away guarantees his safety. But Ollie’s already standing up and approaching him, reaching for his hand, and when Kimi snatches it away his eyes fill with hurt.

 

“Kimi, please listen to me,” Ollie says.

 

He can’t. It was a promise he made to himself in Monaco, that Ollie is to be protected at all costs. He has to be safe and sound under his guard, no matter what that means for them, and if that means sabotaging their budding relationship then so be it. Ollie’s safety matters more than anything else.

 

“You have to go,” Kimi says sternly.

 

“No, I know you don’t mean that,” Ollie counters. “I want you to talk to me! Look, I know–”

 

“No, go!” He insists more firmly.

 

He keeps his head down, avoids making eye contact. He knows if he takes one look at Ollie’s beautiful eyes only to find them sad and pleading for the truth, then he’ll cave. He’ll crack. He has to be silent, and resolute, and rude. He’ll talk to his team, but Ollie isn’t something he can risk.

 

“Kimi!”

 

“I can’t tell you anything, you have to leave now!”

 

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Ollie supplies, which throws Kimi entirely off balance. 

 

“Eh?!” He exclaims.

 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, because I already know.”

 

And that makes Kimi’s head snap up with enough force to give him whiplash. He blinks, staring at his friend, and wonders what he thinks he knows. If his conspiracy theories are anything to go by, whatever he allegedly knows is going to be so far-fetched that it will entirely remedy the situation.

“Know what?” He asks softly.

 

“That you’re the Silver Spider.”

 

Ollie says it with such a casual tone that Kimi, at first, isn’t even sure he’s heard him correctly. And then, once he’s processed the words, he laughs a little. Ollie keeps looking at him, his eyes unreadable, and Kimi’s laughter feels more forced, more hollow, and he realises that Ollie is entirely serious. 

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, trying to ignore Ollie by getting ready to shower. 

 

“I saw the suit, Kimi! In Austin! You left it out on the chair and I saw it after minigolf.”

 

Oh.

 

Oh no. 

 

Something like that is impossible to deny, both because he knows it’s true and because if Ollie saw it with his own eyes then no lie is going to convince him otherwise. He should’ve been more careful, but Ollie came to his room unannounced. Everyone else that came to his hotel room knew who he was, it didn’t matter. 

 

“I thought I was just tired, maybe I was seeing things, maybe I was making it up,” he continues, and Kimi stares up at him anxiously. “I thought there’s no way my best friend, the boy I— There’s no way you’d be the Silver Spider and not tell me. But I ended up on Instagram, looking through all the videos and photos that Esteban had put on the Spider Spotter page, and I started putting pieces together. The way you’d disappear from parties, like in Monaco. The scratches in Jeddah. The fact that you missed FP1 in Silverstone and the team passed it off like Fred was always going to do FP1 but we both know that’s bullshit. And then Sergi, he came to visit me in summer, said you were in danger. The Hornet was targeting you. I can’t believe I didn’t realise then! Why would he be targeting you?! There’s nineteen other drivers, it makes no sense! Unless…”

 

“Unless I’m the Silver Spider,” Kimi whispers, finishing the sentence for him and nodding. “Ollie–”

 

“So I talked to Esteban,” he admits. “On the way to Mexico, and he confirmed it. I was so angry at first! I thought that if it was true, if you were the Silver Spider, I’d have been one of the first people you told. And then I tried to deny it. I came up with more and more elaborate theories.”

 

“Like Alex Dunne?”

 

“Exactly!” Ollie agrees. “Maybe if I came up with something so utterly bizarre, it would somehow be true, or maybe you’d tell me yourself and it wouldn’t have to feel like some kind of betrayal. I mean, why didn’t you tell me, Kimi?!” He asks, his voice split between sadness and desperation.

 

“I thought it would keep you safe!” Kimi pleads with him.

 

If Ollie’s going to know the truth, then he can’t lose him. He has to convince him to stay.

 

“That’s all I ever wanted to do, keep you safe, mate. I promised myself I’d never tell you, I thought it would make you more of a target. After Monaco, after the Hornet took you and I barely saved you, I thought he might come for you again. I just didn’t want the Hornet to think he could hurt me by hurting you, mate. If you didn’t know… It felt like protection.” 

 

The room falls silent with the confession, and Kimi realises he’s breathing heavily. He’s exhausted. The race was tiring enough, but another bottled up secret being revealed after so long leaves him feeling as though he’s nursing an open wound. His ribs ache, his stomach hurts, he doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. Ollie might decide that this is too much, he might leave. He might be furious he’s been lied to all this time and decide that he’s not a trustworthy person anymore.

 

He doesn’t expect him to wrap his arms tightly around his torso and squeeze him close.

 

“Kimi, I’m so sorry,” he whispers - words that he expected even less than the embrace.

 

“Eh?”

 

“Stop talking, just let me hug you.”

 

So Kimi does just that, falling silent without question and letting Ollie tighten the hold he has on him. He doesn’t question it, but the longer it goes on the more he starts to relax. His shoulders fall, his head leans against his shoulder, eventually even his legs begin to give way and Ollie pulls him over to the makeshift bed - but crucially he doesn’t stop hugging him.

 

It’s like the hug on Friday, with Bono, except different. It’s comforting and safe, and it does wonders for the tension and stress that’s been building up for so long, but there’s more to it with Ollie. Love, longing, a sense of home. This time he’s coherent enough that when the truth starts flowing it’s not a mess of sobs and self hatred, but an actual linear anecdote. 

 

“I was bitten years ago, when I was karting with… With Nico Rosberg,” he whispers, wincing a bit in a way that he hopes Ollie doesn’t notice. “I told Sergi when I started to work with him, and for years it was fine. It was fine. But then, in Australia this year, when George and I did the photoshoot there was vandalism. And then when we were in China together, remember - we got ramen and walked by the river? We saw the fire raining down from the tower. That was him, again. He broke our cars in Japan. He brought the Swarm to Bahrain. But in Jeddah he started to hurt people - my papino - and… And I had to do something.”

 

Kimi feels Ollie’s fingers tangling with his hair and he sighs softly. When his friend doesn’t say anything, he continues.

 

“I told Sergi, he fixed my wounds, and we told Toto after. He made the suit for me, in Miami. I just kept trying to save people. But Silverstone… I got kidnapped when I tried to protect you and Esteban. He… There was a syringe, some kind of serum,” he explains nervously. “He injected me and he got into my brain. Made me do things…”

 

“The train station?”

 

“In Belgium. And he made me crash into Max too, in the practice session. And the refinery, in Hungary. And in the Netherlands we destroyed sea defences and flooded towns,” he whispers regretfully. “Sergi helped save me. They gave me something else, to bring me back and break the control. And then you saw it, the mark on my shoulder. I don’t know when that happened but it… Changed me.”

 

“Changed you?” Ollie whispers.

 

“The spot, mate, it grew,” he exhales. “All down my arm, my chest, it’s all black now. It’s poison, eh, venom. The team is trying to figure out how dangerous it is, I wanted to keep you away until I knew.”

 

“Oh, Kimi!”

 

“In Baku, after I was myself again, I was too late to save people in the towers,” he whispers. “In Singapore they tried to arrest me, they tried to kill me. And then in Texas I…” He swallows, closing his eyes and taking in a sharp breath. “The Swarm, they have radiation now. I got sick. I’m okay now, I promise. But Ollie, everyone is in terrible, terrible danger. I’m the only one that can do anything about it.”

 

He stops speaking to catch his breath, practically panting as he does so. He’s said so much, told Ollie everything that’s happened over the last nine months in one go, it’s a lot. It’s a lot to say, but it’s a lot to be reminded of too.

 

“You’re not the only one doing anything about it,” Ollie whispers, holding Kimi close as his eyes fill with tears. “I told you Sergi came to me over summer, didn’t I? He’s in your corner. And Esteban. And he told me all about Monza, about Pedro and Doriane too? Mate, you’re not alone! And if that’s not enough, you could tell the rest of the grid and have suits made for all of us and we’d be there to help.”

 

Kimi shakes his head vehemently at that suggestion.

 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” he says emphatically. “I lo– I can’t let you get hurt, okay? I’ve done enough damage,” he whispers, voice cracking as he sheds a few silent tears. 

 

“I want to help,” Ollie tells him instead.

 

Kimi feels lips pressing against the top of his head. The kiss is soft and sweet, and right now that’s exactly what he needs.

 

“I don’t have to fight, if you really don’t want me to, but maybe moral support. I can just sit and listen to you whenever you get back, I can patch you up if you get hurt, I can do whatever a good boyfriend would do!”

 

He looks up, one of those words surprising him more than the others.

 

“Boyfriend?” He repeats.

 

“Esteban made me watch all the Spiderman movies, he said it was educational,” Ollie smiles, trying to lighten the situation. “I think I’m Mary Jane, right?”

 

“I don’t know, mate,” he admits with a laugh. “I haven’t watched the movies for years.” 

 

As they joke, Kimi feels one of Ollie’s hands move to his. Their fingers intertwine, and Ollie squeezes his hand tightly.

 

“I’m here, Kimi,” he whispers affectionately. “Please don’t forget that.”

 

Ollie knows now, and Kimi knows that he won’t back down. He’s got no say in the matter. Ollie is with him, they’re in this together, and maybe… Maybe that’s going to be for the best. With his team alongside him helping practically, and Ollie there to catch him, give him the energy to spur him onwards and defeat the Hornet and the Wasp once and for all, it might be enough. 

 

There’s just one more thing that’s still playing on his mind.

 

“Did you really suggest Esteban call himself ‘Daddy Long Legs’?” 

Notes:

Happy Monday everyone! What a chill chapter this is - if by chill you mean twin tornadoes and a therapeutic cry <3 Honestly, you guys need this break just as much as Kimi does, because Vegas... Ohhhhh Vegas is special. Enjoy this sweet reprieve, dear reader. Prepare yourselves. This chapter is officially the last of the "before".

But I'm sure it's nothing! See you all next week, comments and kudos are always greatly welcomed <3

Chapter 15: Issue 15: Wolff in Sheep's Clothing

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
Sunday 16 November 2025

 

One of the biggest differences since the start of the season - other than the 239 World Championship points to his name, the months of superheroism, and the missing finger - is the fact that when he flies to a race, he flies in First Class. He flew with Max on his private jet once before the incident in Belgium, and once since with Fernando after George invited him as a plus one, but for the most part he still flies commercially. Economy is still close enough that he appreciates every time he flies First Class: that he no longer has to fight for an arm rest or risk a UTI for the sake of a window seat is a blessing he doesn’t take for granted. There’s very few flaws that come with flying First Class, the fact that he still has to make a transfer in Seattle is the only one that comes to mind, but the flaw with travelling in general is the jet lag. His flight left Heathrow a little after 3pm - only slightly delayed - and despite travelling for over 14 hours it’ll only be 9pm when he makes it to Las Vegas.

 

And since the race is so strangely timed, that means he won’t be able to go to bed for hours once he’s landed. He could, and probably should, have napped already to try and get through the worst of it, but instead he’s been awake since take off. At first, because Ollie had been awake and chatting his ear off, teasing him about the fact that his aforementioned fear of flying was a terrible way to disguise his crush (even though it worked), but now because he’s sitting and staring at the email that’s landed in his inbox. It’s a detailed report from Mercedes of the tests they ran on his blood, investigating the venom in him and figuring out exactly what it does. He hasn’t opened it yet, as if afraid that opening it will change things, even though whether he reads the report or not doesn’t alter his powers. All it does is change whether or not he can control what he’s capable of and use things wisely or recklessly.

 

He scans the email closely, looking over it to try and stall as long as possible. It’s been sent from someone he doesn’t know - probably someone in the team that Toto’s pulled together to work on him, his equipment, and his gear - with Toto and Sergi copied in for information. Kimi wonders if Toto’s reading it already, finding ways to use the venom to his advantage. Maybe Sergi’s trying to think of ways to keep him healthy, if his body needs extra iron or more calories to operate. To them, figuring him out is an equation, it’s part of their jobs, but for him there’s a lot more on the line in this email. For all he knows the report will declare that he’s dangerous, bolded and underlined, and suggest putting him down once he’s stopped the Hornet and the Wasp for the safety of the world. Or perhaps it will tell him that the venom is killing him slowly, and once he’s done his job he should be discarded and left behind. 

 

No. It won’t say any of that. Bono reassured him in Brazil, and Ollie did too. He has a team around him, he doesn’t need to catastrophise or jump to the worst case scenario, all he needs to do is click on the attached PDF and he’ll have all of his answers. Part of him wishes Ollie was awake, so he could hold his hand over the divider between their seats and he didn’t have to be completely alone when reading such pivotal and personal information, but delaying it any longer is only going to allow his mind to take the worst situation he can think of and somehow make it worse. The best thing for it is to just click it and start reading.

 

So he takes a deep breath, summons up every bit of courage he can, and does just that.

 

And as he managed to convince himself, there really is nothing damning in the report. At least, nothing more damning than a report about having a venomous bite can be. The primary findings are that his venom is highly neurotoxic, even in relatively small doses, and Kimi winces at the thought of how many lab rats would’ve met a grisly fate to come to that conclusion. But when tested on dead things, it’s attacked the cells that hold them together. He supposes that provides a more scientific explanation for the dissolving steak in Mexico, though the technical terms are far less important to him than the consequences. And they’re consequences that he reads loud and clear: even just a small bite is going to prove fatal. A person would need more venom in their systems to meet the same fate as a rat, but without regularly releasing his venom there’s a real risk that enough will build up and he’ll be able to kill. Even if he doesn’t kill, he’s capable of serious damage.

 

It’s a frightening conclusion in the thirteen page report, but it’s not quite as bad as it could’ve been. Kimi clings to that knowledge for the rest of the flight, trying (and failing) to distract his mind as they soar over the remote landscape of northern Canada. 

 

They arrive in Seattle on schedule, and are the first to deboard the plane. Ollie complains of a stiff neck - that First Class pillows really aren’t as comfortable as his memory foam ones at home - as they make their way through the border. Really, Kimi’s surprised there’s that many ways to describe how annoyed he is, but it gets them through into arrivals without Kimi having to think of a conversation topic of his own. He’s exhausted as they meander through baggage claim and head straight to security, passing back through to get ready for the final leg of their journey. It’s a shorter flight, though tragically Business Class rather than First Class, but Ollie’s awake and alert and that means Kimi doesn’t have to worry about accidentally falling asleep and ruining his schedule for the rest of the week.

 

Without their trainers watching them, Kimi’s sleep deprivation leads him into a McDonalds and he emerges with a McFlurry and two spoons. He finds a quieter corner to sit with Ollie and the two share the ice cream in silence - as if not saying anything will trick the calories and sugar of the McFlurry into believing it isn’t being consumed and so Sergi and Martin never find out about it. 

 

Once their gate is announced, they’re back on their feet and trundling through the endless airport corridors. For the most part, no one approaches them, though there are a few fans that wave and say hello. When they arrive somewhere there’s a chance of them being mobbed, but at least there’s enough respect to understand that they’re trying to catch a flight right now and would rather not miss it because they stopped for a selfie or an autograph. It does mean that Kimi can’t reach out for Ollie’s hand, though, which is sorely disappointing. His fingers are itching to brush against his skin. Maybe when they’re in Vegas, or perhaps there’ll be an empty seat on their row and no one will be looking to see their fingers intertwined. Soon. He won’t make it to winter break if he can’t have Ollie in the quiet moments. 

 

The plane is packed, though despite Kimi’s worries that works in their favour. Ollie has no choice but to squeeze up alongside him, and they can pass off their hand holding as an arm wrestle for the arm rest. It leaves him feeling blissfully giddy, and the two hours quite literally flies by. Before long, the window is filled with the bright yellow sphere staring up at their plane as they come in to land, and they’re touching down in Paradise. 

 

Kimi might not be afraid of flying, but he squeezes Ollie’s hand whilst they land all the same. 

 

And then comes the dullest part of any journey - standing at the baggage carousel and waiting to see if their bags have made it safely or if they’re going to be making calls to their teams for spare kit. It takes just long enough for Kimi to start to feel nervous, since a robot spider is considerably more difficult to replace should his bags be missing, but eventually he’s rewarded with what he’s waiting for. He loads his bags up onto a trolley to push out to meet the Uber he’s booked for the two of them to share, and finds himself feeling somewhat disappointed when he catches the eyes of Toto Wolff in the arrival hall.

 

Whether it’s about his contract or his gear, it doesn’t soothe the ache of leaving Ollie behind. They’d planned to stay up late into the night and chat about everything, about nothing, forcing themselves to stay up late enough to overcome their jet lag, but a wrench has been thrown into those plans. 

 

“It’s okay,” Ollie says softly, sensing Kimi’s disappointment. “You said your family doesn’t get here until Wednesday? We can hang out tomorrow night.” 

 

Kimi smiles a bit and nods his head. 

 

“Sure, mate, I’ll text you in the morning.”

 

Calling Ollie mate is a safety mechanism in public, but Kimi hates it. That’s his boyfriend, not his mate. But in the world of Formula 1, it’s going to be a very long time until Ollie is anything other than mate. Maybe when they’re both retired, a dozen Championships between them, they can let the world in on the secret they’ve been keeping. For now, outside of the shadows, they’re just friends.

 

“See you later,” Ollie agrees, pushing his luggage on as he heads for the private pickup line.

 

It leaves Kimi taking a breath, preparing himself for whatever is about to be said. His phone has already connected to the network here and he’s not had any notification through of a text or an email from his boss, which makes him feel uneasy. This is almost certainly not good news. He pushes his trolley towards him, though now that he’s alone Toto meets him halfway and takes it from him. 

 

“Ciao, Kimi,” he says. 

 

Kimi can’t read a thing. He’s not Andrea, so there’s at least that going for him, but that’s all he can really tell. 

 

“Ciao, Toto,” he replies. 

 

He falls into step alongside Toto as they leave the airport in tandem. When Kimi tries to help load his bags into the back of Toto’s rental car, he’s stopped fairly swiftly, and Kimi just stands awkwardly as he things are placed in the boot. 

 

The atmosphere between them feels different, it feels tense, and Kimi gets the feeling that this evening isn’t going to go particularly well. There’s a lot of reasons for that, truthfully. The fact that he directly disobeyed Toto in Brazil, the fact that he’s still waiting to hear any news about his upgraded gear and suit, and the fact that he’s managed to be turned into a biological weapon. If Kimi was in Toto’s shoes, he’d be ready to argue with him too, and that explains why it feels like a thunderstorm is bubbling up in the middle of a desert. 

 

But still, as always, Kimi takes his spot in the passenger seat and Toto lets him pick the music for the short but slow drive from the airport to the hotel. So maybe whatever is about to happen, it’s just some tough love, and they’ll end the evening with a hug - as they often do - and whatever is simmering between them water under the bridge.

 

When they arrive, Kimi checks in and a bellhop takes his bags to his room. Kimi pockets his key card, intending on heading upstairs to make himself comfortable, but Toto’s hand on his shoulder tells him that he’s very much operating on someone else’s terms right now. 

 

“Susie is out at dinner,” he explains. “Canvassing for votes. Would you join me for a drink?”

 

Kimi nods his head, and hopes that the man behind the reception desk doesn’t think that Toto’s just propositioned him. The atmosphere between them is different, sure, but not that different. So Kimi follows his boss to the elevator, waiting as Toto presses the button to call it. He taps his hand against his pocket and considers taking his phone out to check and see if Ollie’s texted him yet, but decides against it. Instead, he just waits quietly and then steps into the elevator with Toto when it arrives. They rise quickly to the twenty-third floor, the speed enough to make Kimi’s stomach lurch. He’s a Formula 1 driver - he’s made to go quickly in a horizontal manner. Usually if there’s this much vertical motion involved, something’s gone horribly wrong.

 

But nothing has gone horribly wrong, and Kimi walks with Toto along the corridor to his room. Toto scans his key card and steps inside, holding the door open for Kimi to follow. He takes his shoes off by the door, buying himself time as Toto goes to pour two drinks. Technically Kimi’s too young to drink in America, but he’s been having red wine at family dinners with Toto, Susie, and Jack since he was fifteen. There’s no reason for him to be handing over a glass of sparkling apple juice now.

 

He takes the drink that’s handed to him - a Jack and Coke - and takes a small sip. It’s not exactly to his taste, but he’ll feign interest for the sake of politeness.

 

“You wanted to talk to me?” He says, fingering the rim of the glass to keep his mind from straying too far.

 

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Toto admits.

 

Alright, well, that’s more promising than it could’ve been - even if he’d rather there was no bad news at all.

 

Toto, clearly, decides to start on a high. He walks past Kimi to the wardrobe of the room, rifling through his clothes to pull out something that’s been packed away in a garment bag for protection. Already, Kimi can guess what the good news is, and he puts his glass to one side as Toto opens it up to reveal what he’s been waiting for.

 

His suit. 

 

After Brazil, with a strict promise that it would be returned to him in one state or another before racing in Las Vegas, he allowed the team to take his suit. Given his suit was reworked to fit Doriane, and he’s been sporting the suit the Hornet provided him with for the last few months, it’s a relief to see the old blue and silver colour scheme return. It feels symbolic, like he’s finally, truly, and completely free of the Hornet’s control now. With any luck, Interpol will get the message and stop sending armies after him. No one’s tried to apprehend him since Singapore, but he’s had enough run-ins with the American military for a lifetime now.

 

It’s not just the colour scheme that’s been updated, the suit itself is thicker, and the wristbands that reinforce his web have been restored. His suit is fully operational once again, and now offers him proper protection against radiation. He’s relieved that he doesn’t need to take a steady supply of iodine tablets anymore, and he’s sure Sergi will be pleased there’s no more late night pharmacy runs to get him what he needs.

 

“Ahh, Toto!” He beams from ear to ear, stepping forward and reaching out to run his fingers over the suit. “Grazie! Thank you!”

 

“I thought you might appreciate that,” he says, and Kimi takes the suit from him.

 

He stuffs it straight into his bag, with a carelessness that makes Toto wince, but given this thing is bulletproof and radiation-proof, he’s pretty sure it can handle being crumpled in with his cabin luggage.

 

“I knew I could count on you, eh?” Kimi grins, looking up with a twinkle in his eye.

 

Toto isn’t grinning back, and Kimi braces.

 

“The shipment with your gear was flagged at the border.”

 

His shoulders fall and he lets out a breath, closing his eyes to assess where that leaves him. He’s got what he needs to defend himself against the Hornet, but he doesn’t have anything to attack him with - unless his teeth are suddenly sharp enough to pierce the metal of his suit, but the report from Mercedes didn’t go into any detail on that. Understandably so, since they only had his blood, but with nothing but a triple header until the season is over he has a feeling that there’s not going to be any more time to do any more research until it’s too late.

 

“No,” Kimi sighs in disbelief, finally processing the disappointment. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Toto tells him. “I know I promised that you’d have everything.”

 

Kimi nods his head. It’s going to make things difficult, but hopefully if the shipment has been flagged it’ll just be sent back to Brackley. Hopefully, he can have it for Qatar. Hopefully it isn’t seized and lost permanently. If this is all he’s got to fight against the Hornet when it’s all or nothing, he has a horrible feeling that a team of any size isn’t going to be enough to save him.

 

“Well, what if I get a gun, eh?”

 

Toto furrows his brow and frowns.

 

“A gun?”

 

“We are in America,” he says. “I need something to fight the Hornet with, even if his suit is bulletproof, maybe a gun could still be useful?”

 

“No, Kimi,” Toto tells him firmly, shaking his head. “No. You cannot fight him.”

 

With those words, a switch flips inside Kimi. Toto’s already told him not to go after the Hornet once, it infuriates him that he’s being asked to do it a second time. The whole reason he felt comfortable allowing his family to join him once again was because he’d have his suit and weapons to protect them if anything went wrong. He narrows his eyes and folds his arms over his chest.

 

“If he does anything, I will fight him,” Kimi says flatly, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. “My family will be here. I cannot just stand back and let things happen because I don’t have a weapon. I have to keep them safe, I have to keep everyone safe. Why don’t you understand that? Don’t you care?”

 

Keeping himself calm is more difficult than he first thought, and there's a bite behind those words. Does Toto care? This whole time, he’s been reluctant. In Jeddah, he was reluctant. In Miami, he was reluctant. After Spain, he was reluctant. At every hurdle, Toto has tried to stop him. Toto has never wanted him to fight. 

 

“Of course I care,” Toto protests indignantly, clearly disgruntled by Kimi’s accusations. “But the world isn’t as simple as you like to think it is, Andrea. Some things are right, and some things are wrong, but almost everything is somewhere in the middle.”

 

He’s at Andrea already? Kimi grits his teeth, forgetting about the fact that he’s just been given a brand new suit and a thorough report into his condition, focusing only on how patronising Toto’s words feel right now.

 

“What does that mean?” He asks.

 

“People die every day, Kimi,” Toto explains. “I don’t want you to be one of them.” 

 

“If the suit you gave me works, I won’t die, eh?” He frowns. “And people do not just die from explosions! The Hornet is killing them, no?” That’s not the same as a heart attack, or a car crash. The Hornet is killing people that should not die! I can stop him!” 

 

“Can you?” 

 

Toto’s counterpoint is based on the fact that he has no weapons to his name, but Kimi feels himself prickle at the question. Can he stop the Hornet from killing people? His recent track record would suggest otherwise. People died in Mexico, people died in Baku, all because he was too late to do anything. Before then, people died at his hand. And before that? His heart sinks. There’s a very good chance that more deaths can be attributed to Kimi than to the Hornet, but he thinks back to what Bono told him in Brazil. More people would be dead if it wasn’t for him. Jeddah, Miami, Monaco - if he can get to the Hornet before it’s too late, then he can save lives. He has a track record of saving lives! 

 

“Yes!” He declares, stamping his foot down against the floor harshly. “I am more capable than you think I am, hm? I can buy time to get people to safety, even without a weapon. Once I have one, I can kill him and stop him and save everyone.”

 

“It’s not a risk I’m willing to take with you,” Toto tells him, his calmness only serving to rile Kimi up more. “We are only twenty-three points ahead of McLaren in the Championship. I need you, alive and unharmed, scoring points for the rest of the season.”

 

“My family will be here, Toto,” he growls. “Do you think I care about the Championship when the Hornet might try and hurt my sister? My parents? I invited them because you promised I’d have weapons!” 

 

“You don’t have a contract for next year, Andrea,” Toto threatens - just as he did before Brazil. “You’ve already disobeyed me once. Do you really want to do it again?” 

 

“So you want me to stand back and watch my family get hurt?” He asks. 

 

“If that’s what it takes,” Toto replies simply.

 

Kimi’s face falls, heartbreak flashing across his eyes.

 

“I will not listen to you,” he says darkly.

 

“Then you will not be a Mercedes driver next year,” comes the level reply. 

 

His heart pounds in his chest and he clenches his hands into fists by his side. Is Toto really asking him to choose between his career and what’s right? This doesn’t feel like one of those grey areas he alluded to before. He can drive and he can keep people safe, he’s proved this over and over again this year! The Hornet might have nuclear weapons now, but if his suit has been upgraded to protect against radiation then he shouldn’t be able to get hurt! He should be safe! 

 

“Tell your family to stay in the hotel if you are concerned about them,” Toto suggests. “But I don’t want to find out that you’ve disobeyed me again. I have to be able to trust that you’ll listen to me when it matters. You can fight him once we have your weapons, but this weekend I need you to stay safe.”

 

Kimi says nothing, glaring at his boss, and he watches as Toto’s resolve slowly dissipates. His calm exterior fades away and his expression shifts to something… Softer? 

 

“I don’t want to lose you, Kimi,” he whispers. “I’ve known you since you were Jack’s age, I’ve watched you grow up…” 

 

Toto steps towards him. Kimi holds his ground, he holds onto his anger, and he holds Toto’s gaze. His own glare falters when Toto raises his arms, and two soft hands come to cup his cheeks. It feels diametrically opposed to the argument they were having just moments ago, and yet he still feels himself relax into the gesture. He can’t help himself. Toto’s like a father to him, just as much as he’s like a son to Toto, and the kindness in his hands is difficult to deny.

 

“I don’t care about the Hornet, or what happens to the rest of the world, I just want to keep you safe. Your suit will protect you, but it won’t keep you safe forever. Without weapons to fight back, the Hornet can just fight until it breaks and you’re exposed and can’t do anything to stop him. I don’t care if it means half the city has to die, Kimi, I need you to be safe.”

 

The words wash over him and Kimi closes his eyes, sagging against Toto’s chest. He lets the man wrap his arms around him and hold him tightly, lets him kiss the top of his head affectionately, and he feels himself becoming more and more torn by the second.

 

He doesn’t want to disappoint Toto, personally or professionally, but he can’t just stand back and do nothing if there’s something he could do to make the world a little bit safer. For now, he can at least pretend he’ll listen. What’s one more mask to wear after the season he’s had?

 

“Alright,” he whispers, feeling the arms around him tighten. “Alright, I won’t fight.” 

 

“Thank you, Kimi.” 

 

Kimi stands in his embrace, and it feels like it goes on for far too long. He can’t criticise, not after how long he spent in Bono and Ollie’s arms in Brazil searching for comfort, not when he has no idea what’s going on in Toto’s head. Living the life of a superhero is terrifying, and traumatising, but he’s never given much thought to what it must be like for the others around him. Never knowing if he’s safe, watching him fight from a distance only to come home with new injuries, more nightmares, less body parts. He wonders how many sleepless nights he’s caused Toto, how often he’s stayed late at the factory to try and figure out a way to better protect him. No wonder he wants to be selfish, to forbid him from fighting, to use everything at his disposal to try and convince him not to put himself in harm’s way.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers gently, just as Toto pulls back from the embrace.

 

“I know,” he replies, smiling softly. “I’ll see you on Wednesday for the team meeting.” 

 

Kimi nods his head, returning to the door to put his shoes back on before he leaves, keeping up the act of doing exactly what Toto wants until he hears the door close and the lock click into place. He thanks George for the impromptu poker lesson in Brazil as his mask lifts, no longer needing to pretend that he’s going to acquiesce to Toto’s wishes, and he begins to plot. 

 

A quick check of the envelope his key card was handed to him in confirms his room number, and he texts his friends to summon whoever is already in Las Vegas. By the time he’s made it, Esteban is already lingering eagerly outside, and Kimi lets him in as he himself enters for the first time.

 

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, not caring to hide the dark skin of his arm. Everyone that’s joining him will know the full extent of the situation soon, there’s not much point in pretending that everything is okay. Esteban sticks by the door - letting Doriane and Ollie in as they too arrive - whilst Kimi surveys the room. He pushes the twin beds together and jumps up onto the springy mattresses, moving to grab a large canvas that’s hung above the beds. He’s running off determination now, unsure if Toto is going to provide the backing he needs going forward and well aware that there’s every chance he needs to take some initiative. 

 

“A little help here, eh?” He calls to the room.

 

Esteban responds eagerly, and Kimi rolls his eyes when he doesn’t have to use the beds to get the same reach as he does. But between them they manage to pull the canvas off the wall and carry it to one side, and Kimi starts to rifle through his bags whilst his audience watches on.

 

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Esteban gasps.

 

“Nothing,” he waves a dismissive hand. “I’ll explain everything in a moment.”

 

“What are we doing?” He follows up instead.

 

“Figuring things out!” Kimi declares, finding a wad of sticky notes and a pen. “Sergi and Pedro are not here yet?”

 

“Pedro isn’t in America until Tuesday,” Doriane explains. “And Sergi’s flight is delayed.”

 

Kimi nods, jumping back onto the bed with an enthusiasm that’s confused even him. His body is exhausted from a year of racing, heroism, and travel, but his mind is alive. If Toto doesn’t want him to fight then the only solution is to figure out exactly what the Hornet is doing and to stop him before fighting becomes the only option. It’s simple, really! He’s not sure why he hasn’t come up with it before!

 

“So,” he grins from ear to ear, Doriane sitting herself on the edge of the desk whilst Ollie and Esteban take the sofa. “What do we know? Hands up, everyone!”

 

Unsurprisingly, the only person in the room truly mirroring his eager nature is Esteban, who’s clearly been waiting for this moment and shooting his hand up in a Hermione Granger-esque fashion. 

 

“We know that you’re the Silver Spider, we know that the Hornet has a sidekick, the Wasp, and that they’re using the Swarm to cause devastation. We know there’s a serum to control people, and a gas to knock them unconscious, but we have a cure for the serum.”

 

“Thank you Daddy!” Kimi announces, scribbling away on sticky notes and sticking them to the wall.

 

“Daddy?!” Doriane exclaims, though Kimi’s far too focused on writing down notes to listen to the bickering behind him.

 

By the time he’s filled the wall with Esteban’s contribution, and his own experiences, it’s practically covered. He’s added everything, from the identities of people involved on both sides to the tools and weapons at their disposal, to motivations and methods and the actions that’ve taken to achieve their goals. When he turns back around, Doriane has her head in her hands and Esteban is beaming. Ollie is the only one actually paying attention to him, and he’s got a feeling it’s more to do with the fact that reaching up has exposed the waistband of his underwear rather than because he’s actually taking any information in.

 

He sighs as he kicks his legs out from under him, landing on the bed with a bounce and starting to talk through his display.

 

“We know the Hornet is Sebastian, we know the Wasp is Nico.”

 

“We do?!” Ollie gasps. 

 

“Oh, buddy, come on,” Esteban sighs. “You’re the conspiracy theorist here! You cannot tell me you didn’t figure this out?”

 

“I only found out Kimi was the Silver Spider in Austin,” he reminds. “And the only person I could imagine being this dedicated to killing him was Paul Aron!”

 

“He’s not involved,” Kimi confirms. “At least, not this time. Maybe he’s trying to kill me independently, eh?” He laughs. “But, the important thing is they’re working together, and in Mexico they had help from my sister too.”

 

He looks over his shoulder, leans back, and smacks his hand against a note on the wall that just reads ‘BOMBO’. It’s underlined, several times, and written in big letters.

 

“Sebastian gave her the toy for her birthday, she said it spoke to her, then when I destroyed it Sebastian replaced it and now she hates me. They’re using it, and her, for something. Just another way to get at me, I assume.”

 

The room nods, and Kimi looks back at his notes again to try and pull more things together.

 

“Sebastian started off caring about the environment, and he started small, but something changed. The attacks became more general, and he stopped thinking about his message.”

 

“Did he use his serum on himself?” Esteban suggests. “When you were under its influence, you were manipulated into doing things against your will.”

 

“Manipulated by Sebastian,” he nods. “But if that was the case, how did he manipulate himself?”

 

“Could someone else be involved?” Ollie asks, and Kimi hums in consideration.

 

“But who?” He asks. “Surely, if there was someone else, we’d know by now?”

 

“Well, we know who it isn’t,” Doriane says. “Mercedes have made us all suits and weapons, they made the antidote, everyone there is on our side. Pedro and Sergi, everyone in this room, we can all trust each other.”

 

“It would have to be someone powerful,” Ollie points out. “With connections to the sport, to us.”

 

The room falls silent as they all think, and Kimi wishes that someone would speak. He wants to forget the thought that’s crept into his mind, the thought he can’t quite shake, the thought that’s sending chills down his spine. But when someone speaks, it’s because they’re voicing that same thought.

 

“It couldn’t be Susie, could it?” Doriane whispers.

 

“No,” Kimi shakes his head - more out of desperation for his denial to be true than anything else. 

 

But, logically, it makes a harrowing amount of sense.

 

She’s close to them all one way or another. For Doriane, she’s the CEO of F1 Academy. For he and Esteban, being part of the Mercedes junior programme practically turns them into an extension of the Wolff family. Even Ollie is around her often enough in the paddock. She’s been immersed in the sport for so long that she’s got the connections with Sebastian and Nico she’d need to pull off something like this. She has access to the same level of wealth that Toto has, and no one would question her presence wherever she went. And, more than that, when the Hornet’s ambitions started to shift away from environmentalism the thing he wanted was control. Controlling the FIA isn’t his end game, but there’s a very good chance that it’s a good place to start. 

 

And Susie is running for the Presidency.

 

The silence is broken, at least temporarily, by Doriane clearing her throat.

 

“She wouldn’t,” Esteban agrees quietly. “She couldn’t.” 

 

“That’s why it makes sense,” Ollie says, getting to his feet now. “She fits, doesn’t she?”

 

“Maybe Toto knows,” Kimi admits. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want me to fight. He knows what’s going to happen.”

His heart falls in his chest as he mentally pieces everything together, and as he puts pen to paper he feels sick. ‘Susie?’ is the latest sticky note to join the collection on the wall, and the room has become considerably more tense than it was a few minutes ago. Figuring things out might be useful, but Kimi wishes he could turn back time to before he and the others reached this conclusion. Staring at it feels like a weight has been added to his body. If it’s true, if she’s really the mastermind behind this all, the centre of the web, he doesn’t know how to feel about anything. How long could she have been planning it? How much of his relationship with the Wolffs, with Mercedes, with racing is a lie?

 

It’s a dark path he doesn’t want to spiral down, not when he has people around him that will help. So he closes his eyes, he takes in a deep breath, and he readjusts. They can come back to this dreadful possibility later, there’s plenty more to figure out. 

 

The rest of the room seems just as content to move on as he does, and Kimi looks back to them with his shoulders sagging and his tone significantly dampened.

 

“My arm,” he exhales. “It’s venom.”

 

This does little to lift the spirits of those in the room.

 

“I’m still not sure where it came from,” he admits. “It was either the serum the Hornet gave me in Silverstone, or it was the antidote in Monza. It was just a little mark, but it’s grown, and now if I bite something… I have venom. Mercedes did some tests, I got the report on the flight over. It’s deadly. I don’t remember the fancy words they used, but it’s not good, eh?” 

 

“Is it dangerous to you?” Esteban asks curiously.

 

Kimi shakes his head.

 

“Not that I can tell, and the report didn’t suggest it,” he says hopefully. “I want to try and find a way to use it against the Hornet. I’m supposed to release it regularly, maybe I can use it to tip arrows for your crossbows? Or maybe I–”

 

He’s cut off by Doriane, whose tickling cough has turned into something more substantial. Three pairs of eyes fall on her as she splutters, then gets to her feet and crosses the room quickly to enter the bathroom. The door slams shut behind her, and the coughing just continues.

 

It sounds worse than it did when they were in Austin.

 

No one says anything as they listen to Doriane try to clear out her lungs, watching the door to the bathroom like a cast of hawks. When it eventually opens to Doriane wiping her mouth with some paper towels, she stands in their gaze and absorbs the scrutiny placed upon her. After sniffling a little, she finally speaks. 

 

“I had the antidote too,” she admits quietly. “I asked Sergi for it. I thought there was still something in my system after the Wasp made me ingest the serum in Canada. I wasn’t injected, it was a liquid, I thought it might’ve worked differently.”

 

“But your arm is normal,” Ollie points out, and Doriane nods.

 

“Oui, I know, but I wasn’t bitten by a spider and given superpowers as a child.”

 

Kimi gulps. Doriane is, as Doriane often is, right. They’re good friends, and he saw her several times after he’d been injected with the serum - which was also after she’d been exposed to it. Neither of them had shown any symptoms then, which would suggest that the trigger was the antidote rather than the serum. And if they’ve both taken the antidote but are experiencing very different outcomes, then it stands to reason that there has to be something fundamentally different between the two of them. Without testing on a wider sample size, there’s no way to tell if his conclusion is particularly sound, but something like that takes time - and would be woefully unethical. 

 

“Are you okay?” Esteban asks gently, and Doriane shrugs her shoulders.

 

“I’m not dead yet,” is the only reply she can give.

 

And, really, what more is there to be said? They don’t have the resources available to test her blood here, so there’s no way of really telling what it’s doing to her body. Maybe she’s got a bad cough and that’s the end of it, maybe something more sinister is happening. At least after this weekend the F1 Academy season comes to an end. Perhaps after everything is over with on Sunday morning they can talk to Toto and explain the situation. Perhaps he can arrange for expedited testing to be performed to understand if she’s going to be okay or not. She’s saved his life too many times to count, Kimi’s going to have to do everything in his power to make sure that, if necessary, the favour is returned.

 

“I think we’ve done enough investigating for the night,” Kimi whispers.

 

There’s a murmur of agreement between them all. It’s late, late enough that if they fall asleep now then their jet lag won’t disrupt their bodies too much for the rest of the week, and after two terrible conclusions reached one after another there’s no real desire to press on. They have plenty of time before racing commences on Thursday evening, maybe tomorrow night they can all order room service and try to have a slightly less depressing brainstorming session. 

 

Doriane leaves first, with Esteban accompanying her. They fall back into French before they’ve even crossed the threshold of the room, which leaves Kimi and Ollie out of the conversation they’re having. Kimi finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he’s coming to terms with so many terrible things. Whatever they’re talking about, he doesn’t really have too much motivation to know. At least he still has Ollie there, staring back at him and reaching for his hand.

 

He takes it easily, squeezing tightly, and Ollie steps a little bit closer.

 

“Are you okay?” He asks.

 

“No,” Kimi replies softly, not lying for once.

 

Again, Ollie responds by stepping closer, though Kimi feels his hand drop as Ollie instead wraps him up in his arms. He leans against his chest, closing his eyes, returning the gesture and applying a little more pressure to encourage Ollie to do the same. For a moment it’s enough to block out the voice in his head that’s eating away at him, sabotaging all the happy memories he’s made with his pseudo-family. He doesn’t want to think about the invitations to holidays, or the home cooked meals, or the Christmas and birthday presents. He doesn’t want to think about how wonderful it’s always felt when Susie hugged him, not now. Maybe never again. 

 

Instead, he wants to think about Ollie. About strong arms and soft lips, gentle touches and loving words. 

 

He pulls back after what feels like a minute and looks up at his boyfriend, moving his arms so they’re draped over his shoulders. Ollie’s smiling at him now, that stupid dopey smile when he’s not thinking about anything. It’s enough to make him smile like nothing else exists, and nothing else matters.

 

“Can I have a name too?” Ollie asks him.

 

“You have a name,” he replies easily. “Oliver James Bearman.”

 

“Oh, God, don’t do that again,” Ollie half groans, half laughs. “You sound like my mum, I do not want to think about my mum right now.”

 

Kimi snorts. 

 

“But you still have a name, no? Ollie?”

 

“I mean, sure, but I want a proper name. Like, you’re the Silver Spider, Esteban is Daddy Long Legs. What’s my proper name?” 

 

“I mean, I can’t call you and Esteban ‘Daddy’, that’s just going to get confusing,” he teases. 

 

It earns him a playful slap on the shoulder, and Kimi winks in response. He licks his lips, running his tongue over his teeth, and reminds himself not to get too into kissing Ollie if he gets the chance later. Ollie might not want to think about his mother, but he’s pretty sure accidentally killing him would be an even bigger mood kill. 

 

“I should never have come up with that name,” Ollie sighs.

 

“But you did, eh? And I had to hear it. So unless you’ve got a better idea, Esteban is ‘Daddy’.” 

 

Ollie’s silence tells him all he needs to know. Daddy it is. 

 

“Besides, you do not look like a Daddy. You are too cute, and slim, and cuddly,” he lists, and he can tell by Ollie’s expression that he doesn’t know whether to be offended or not. “No, I have the perfect name for you. Orsachiotto.” 

 

“That’s Italian,” Ollie identifies. “Orsa means bear, doesn’t it?”

 

“Si,” Kimi smiles. “It fits, does it not, Bearman?”

 

“I like it,” he grins back. “Orsachiotto, I like the r sound,” he says, rolling his tongue aggressively to make his point. 

 

Kimi’s got half a mind to kiss him there and then, to wipe that stupid grin from his face and do unspeakable things to him - they’ve got a hotel room to themselves and several days until they have to be race ready after all - but his anxiety about the what ifs of his venom still linger. He’s going to have to find a way to work around it at some point, because he will not live his life denied the pleasure that is Oliver Bearman. But, for tonight, he’ll let him go.

 

“Do you want to get breakfast together in the morning?” Ollie asks. “My dad won’t be here until the afternoon, we can go sightseeing.”

 

Frankly, Kimi would agree to anything Ollie asked of him, but breakfast and sightseeing sounds nice. A little bit of time without thinking about his powers, the potential betrayal of his almost mother, or the impending end of the world will do him wonders. In fact it’ll probably have him feeling refreshed enough to be useful when it comes to discussing things with the group again tomorrow evening. 

 

“That sounds good,” Kimi nods. “I’ll see you in the morning?” 

 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Ollie parrots.

 

His hands, still on Kimi’s waist, squeeze him tightly before letting go, and Kimi watches as he walks away. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. So many terrible things have happened to him, and he’s lost so much, but somehow he’s still got Ollie. His Ollie. 

 

His Orsachiotto.

 

+ + +

 

Las Vegas, United States of America
Thursday 20 November 2025

 

As it turns out, sightseeing in Las Vegas is quite hard when you’re nineteen and twenty years old. After a breakfast - which was definitely more of a brunch - they’d mostly just wandered around until it was time to go their separate ways. Ollie’s father arrived in the afternoon, but he still managed to make his way up to Kimi’s hotel room that evening to go over more theories with the group. They’ve done that for several nights, even managing to find time after the media circus yesterday, and the sticky note mess on Kimi’s wall has become something more organised. The ache in his chest over the idea of Susie being involved somehow has gradually lessened, and he’s slowly started to accept it as fact. Despite days of discussions, no one’s been able to come up with a better theory, even with the addition of Sergi and Pedro the human. 

 

But now the race weekend is well and truly upon him, and it’s time to focus on something other than saving the world. He’s glad of it, a welcome distraction from the conclusions he’s reached over the last few days, falling easily back into the routine of meetings, warm ups, and sessions. There’s a new dimension to the weekend this time out, though, which the bright voice of Pedro confirms right on cue.

 

“Pedro wishes to remind the Silver Spider that it is time to excrete his venom!”

 

Kimi’s eyes regard him briefly, before he opens up the wardrobe in the corner of his room. Inside are his fireproofs, his race suits, and his team merch. To anyone that might enter, it’s a perfectly ordinary wardrobe. But buried beneath it all, where snooping eyes can’t find it, he finds empty vials that have been left by Sergi. The routine between them now is smooth. Three times a day - when he wakes up, when he has lunch, and when he goes to bed - he fills up the vials with venom as he drains it from his body. Not completely, he likes to have a little in his system just in case he’s caught off guard by the Hornet or the Wasp, but enough that he’s not going to pose a danger to anyone involuntarily. 

 

Doing this before a session is a difficult tightrope to walk. Over the past few days he’s figured out a system, an approximation of when he needs to ignore his instincts and stop to keep himself from becoming light headed or dehydrated, and he follows it rigidly. It means the vial he takes is about two thirds full when he’s done, tongue running over his teeth to wipe away any excess venom before he swallows. When he puts the top on the vial, he sloshes it around, watching as the liquid slowly drips down the side of the glass. 

 

He can hear George’s music next door as he prepares for their first Practice session, and he wonders what would happen if his teammate decided to pay him a visit right now. There’d be dozens of questions asked, none of which he’d be able to answer. Why is there a robot spider sitting on his desk? Why is he holding a vial of some strange black fluid? Is anything he’s told him over the last few weeks true? 

 

But, thankfully, George is far too focused on himself to force that eventuality to come to pass. Instead, he’s able to peacefully tuck the vial back into the wardrobe, where he knows that Sergi will be along soon to retrieve it and replace it with an empty one. As far as he knows, the venom is being sent back to Brackley for further testing. Once the door to the wardrobe is shut, he drinks as much water as he can and takes a handful of Percy Pigs from the bag George left him, before pulling on his fireproofs and making his way down to the garage. 

 

His family are there again, and as nice as it is to have them beside him once more he can’t deny how anxious it makes him. He’s followed Toto’s advice - he’s told them not to leave the hotel without him unless they’re going to the track, and despite a rather heated argument he won out in the end. Even with the additional security provided by the FIA and an overzealous Nevadan Government that doesn’t want to see anything like what happened in Mexico reoccur in their prized city, he doesn’t want to risk them. Kimi goes to hug his mother tightly, who kisses his cheeks eagerly, and then to stand shoulder to shoulder with his father. Maggie looks older than the last time he saw her a month ago. She’s had a growth spurt, clearly, and there’s a pimple on her cheek that’s bright red and angry. If it wasn’t for the months of resentment prior to this, he’d assume her cold shoulder was just the beginning of her mind starting to process the hormonal changes that come with the approach of adolescence, but he knows there’s more to it. She’s cradling Bombo tightly, her mouth pressed atop the soft toy’s head, and he wishes there was a way to talk to her reasonably about the situation. 

 

At least he’s got more of an idea of what’s going on now, that will go a long way towards helping her. He hopes.

 

Kimi can’t chat for too long. He sees Bono looking at his watch and he leaves his family to slot in beside his engineer, pulling his headphones over his ears and staring at the screens as Bono starts to talk through the data. He follows Bono’s finger carefully as he points at the data from the simulator and talks about the track temperature, thermal degradation, and the need to keep heat in the tyres in the cold desert nights. This is the last track of the year that he’s never driven on before, so he focuses hard and absorbs everything that’s said to him. He sips on some water and nods, listening attentively, before Bono finishes by patting his shoulder and squeezing tightly by way of encouragement.

 

Then it’s just a case of preparing to get in the car. He moves away from the screens and licks his earpieces before putting them in, fastening his suit in place whilst his trainer approaches to help with his balaclava and helmet. It’s a routine he’s familiar with by now, one that grounds him and helps narrow his attention as he steps into the car and arms reach around the halo to buckle him in. 

 

Night races are always good fun, and Kimi’s been looking forward to the fact that most of this triple header is going to be under the lights. Despite everything, the atmosphere in the paddock has been electric. The car beside him looking likely to win the Championship and the team preparing to lift the Constructors trophy for the first time since 2021 only adds to that. Kimi’s in the spotlight almost as much as George is, even without having a hope of winning the title. Helping the team win the Championship in his rookie season, however, is more than enough for the media to hail Toto’s gamble of putting him in the seat in the first place as a success. They just have to hang onto it for three more weekends to keep anyone from doubting him over winter, and for either Mercedes to extend his contract into 2026 or for Fred to send him a contract after Abu Dhabi.

 

But for now, as his car fires to life beneath him, Kimi doesn’t need to think about Championships or contracts. He just needs to think about driving, about gathering data, about learning the track and finding his confidence in the streets that wind through the City of Sin. And, for an hour, that’s all that occupies his mind. Tarmac, rubber, g-forces, curbs. Adrenaline rushes through his body as he turns sharply and finds the limits of the car and the circuit. He finishes the session in P6, which is a good start, but he wants to improve going into the second Practice session.

 

Which he does. Despite a Williams in the wall early in the session - bringing out an extensive red flag - he manages to sneak his car into P3 during his Qualifying simulation. 

 

It’s not quite pole, which means there’s still room for improvement, but he manages to leave the paddock with a skip in his step after looking at the data and debriefing with the team. He checks his phone as he walks out alongside George, paying less attention to his teammate than he probably should when he sees who’s texted him in the meantime.

 

[🧸♥️] heyyy let me know when you’re free i have a suprise for you 😘

 

He’s grinning from ear to ear as he looks at the text, even as George looks over his shoulder.

 

“Secret admirer?” He teases, and Kimi feels his shoulder jolt as George nudges him.

 

“Not very secret if I have hi– her number saved,” he corrects himself, quickly enough that George doesn’t notice the slip up.

 

“We can catch up later then, mate,” he shrugs. “And, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he promises solemnly.

 

Kimi nods his head to thank him, before departing from his teammate’s side and sending Ollie a quick text in return to confirm that he’s finally left the paddock. His family have already gone back to the hotel - they left after the first Practice session, Maggie hungry, tired, and all together frustrated - which means he has no real obligation to do anything. It’s almost midnight, which means he should be going back to the hotel and going to bed, but he’s not about to turn down an invitation from his boyfriend. Especially not when the place Ollie suggests meeting is just around the corner, and in fact is closer than his hotel is. 

 

Ollie’s already there by the time that Kimi meets him, waving at him enthusiastically and smiling widely. With every step that Ollie takes toward him, Kimi swears he falls more in love than he was before. He’s beautiful, maybe the one completely pure thing in this city, and if there weren’t so many people pointing cameras at them he’d cup his face and pull him down into a kiss. But of course, he can’t do anything like that, so he just has to settle for dapping him up. It’s hardly the most romantic of gestures, but it’s the one they can use publicly to sneak in a touch. 

 

“Come on,” Ollie encourages quietly. “We need to make the most of our time here.”

 

“Eh?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Mate, we can’t go anywhere, we tried already.”

 

“We did try,” Ollie says, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out two pieces of plastic. “But we didn’t try with these.” 

 

Kimi’s eyes widen and he gasps, Ollie’s eyes sparkling mischievously as he wiggles the driver’s licences in front of him. 

 

“Fake IDs,” he explains, even though it’s obvious even to Kimi what he’s looking at.

 

“Where did you get fake IDs from, eh?” He laughs quietly.

 

He snatches them from Ollie, turning them over in his hands. They look good, the photos look official, and he’s got no idea where Ollie could’ve possibly gotten this done. He didn’t have them on Monday when they tried to get into casinos, which means that he’s somehow found a contact in Las Vegas willing to do this. Really, it’s probably better that Ollie doesn’t answer his previous question - it’ll only make him more of an accomplice than he already is.

 

“We’ve all got our secrets,” he winks playfully. “Are you in, or not?”

 

Kimi’s grin widens, and that’s all the answer he needs to give Ollie. Of course he’s in! He’s in whenever the opportunity to get into trouble with Ollie arises. It’s risky, and he’s sure that Rosa will have his head if they get caught and it’s leaked to the press that he’s been trying to sneak into a casino with a fake ID, but the Hornet and the Wasp aren’t trying anything yet, and even though the plan is to apprehend them before they try anything… He’s young. He’s been through a lot. He deserves to have some fun. Putting European teenagers, used to the vices of drinking and partying, in a place where it’s practically embedded into the culture but they can’t take part in any of it, is just a recipe for something like this to happen. 

 

So they walk together - close, but not quite able to be hand in hand with so many eyes around them - to a less glamorous part of the city. The Strip is all LEDs, advertisements, and novelties, but as enticing as it is it’s also where the most attention will be. Venturing off the beaten path means there’s a better chance that they can get in beyond the front door, that they won’t be immediately recognised, and that their fake IDs will actually do the job that they’re supposed to do.

 

Except it doesn’t do that. It takes less than ten minutes after Ollie presented the fake IDs for consideration for them to be confiscated by a bouncer, for hefty fines to have been issued, and for threats to have been made by security for attempting to break the laws of the country they’re in. And as they walk away, barred from ever returning even after they turn 21, embarrassed by the rejection, and humiliated by their scheme being undone because Ollie didn’t think to have different names used on the fake IDs, Kimi finds that he doesn’t care in the slightest.

 

He doesn’t care because getting into trouble with Ollie makes him smile, it makes him laugh, it makes him feel normal.

 

Ollie seems truly disappointed at first, but by the time they reach the street corner he’s laughing too.

 

It’s infectious. Their laughter just intensifies until they have to stop walking to compose themselves. Kimi is practically bent over, hands on his thighs, not a care in the world. It’s the lightest he’s felt in a long time. He’s free, and young, and stupid, and there’s no meaningful consequences to anything! By the time they’ve caught their breath and stopped their laughter, they’re both sitting on the floor, unable to look at each other without bursting out into another fit of giggles. They really should part ways and go back to their hotels now, but Kimi is in no rush to leave the nightlife behind just yet. Even if they can’t go into the casinos, he still wants to be here with Ollie. He wants to be immersed in it all, to make memories they’ll be able to tell their children about someday.

 

Eventually, after they’ve calmed themselves down to the point that they can make eye contact again, they get back to their feet and go back to walking. Kimi still itches to hold Ollie’s hand, but he settles instead for taking photos of him in front of everything. Lights, fountains, and the Eiffel Tower - which Ollie insists on getting a photo on his phone, too, so he can send it straight to Esteban. When he does, they find a bench and sit down to laugh at the tirade Esteban responds with. It’s wonderful, even if it’s not the evening that they had planned. A few people approach them for photographs, but neither of them mind at all - even if there’s a good chance it’ll get back to their trainers. It doesn’t matter, it’s still wonderful. Kimi really doesn’t want it to end.

 

But of course it does, because Kimi’s life is far from simple. It ends with a flash of platinum blond hair, and in an instant Kimi’s face has fallen and he’s gotten to his feet. 

 

Despite being late, the streets are still busy, and Kimi has to push his way through the crowd to try and make up the gap between them. He says a few ‘excuse me’s and the occasional ‘sorry’, as people complain around him, but his attention is entirely on surging forward as quickly as he can. Everything good about the evening has evaporated away in an instant and now the only thing he can focus on is the determination to keep closing the gap between himself and Nico. He doesn’t have a plan for what he’s going to do when he gets to him, and he needs to come up with one quickly. 

 

His heartbeat quickens as he gets closer, only a few people crowding the street between them, and he’s tempted just to reach out, grab his arm, and fight him there and then. Without armour, Kimi’s pretty sure he’s the physically fitter of the two of them, but then what would the people around them think? The fact that Nico Rosberg is one of the two supervillains that’s been terrorising the world for the past few months is not common knowledge. Kimi knows, because Kimi’s involved, but both Sebastian and Nico are wealthy and powerful enough to suppress that kind of information if it was leaked, or if people started to make assumptions. If he started to fight a World Champion in the street, he’d be pulled away and arrested, and no law enforcement in the world would believe him if he started to tell them the truth. Even if they did, he’s the one leading the charge against them, there’s a good chance they’d enact whatever they’re planning before Sergi and the others could reorganise themselves.

 

So he doesn’t grab him, and he doesn’t fight him. Instead, he watches as Nico moves towards the entrance of a casino - a clear signal that Kimi won’t be able to follow him any further - and his heart sinks in his chest. 

 

Confirmation.

 

Susie is standing outside, a bag over her shoulder and her phone in her hand. She looks up, as though she’s been expecting him, and she greets him with an embrace and a kiss to his cheek.

 

Before now, there was something in the back of his mind that told him the theory was wrong, that Susie wasn’t involved, that she’s too good, too kind, too real to be involved. But how can he hope to deny anything now? It’s enough to stop him in his tracks, for the crowds to swarm around him and block his view of the pair as they head inside, and his whole body turns cold. It’s true. It’s real. She really is the one at the centre of everything.

 

By the time the crowd thins out, both Nico and Susie have disappeared, and Kimi is left staring at the casino entrance utterly dumbfounded. A hand is placed on his shoulder, a thumb running back and forth over his thin sweatshirt, and Kimi leans into the touch. 

 

“Kimi?”

 

“I’m okay,” he says quickly, turning around and looking up at Ollie. “I thought… I saw them. Nico and Susie.”

 

Ollie’s face quickly becomes a mirror of his own, though he knows the betrayal doesn’t hit quite as deeply. Even for Kimi, it’s not sunk in yet. He’s still got a lot of weekend to get through, a lot of racing to focus on, it won’t be until the early hours of Sunday morning - when the debrief is over and the team is starting to move towards Qatar - that it really hits him. So for now, he is okay. 

 

“Can we go back to the hotel?” 

 

Ollie nods, and this time he does take his hand. Kimi appreciates it. Maybe it’s reckless and irresponsible in a place as crowded as this, but he doesn’t care. Not when he needs a hand to keep him grounded, not when Nico and Susie are in a casino together discussing goodness only knows what. He needs him, he needs his comfort, and he needs to know he isn’t alone.

 

+ + +

 

Las Vegas, United States of America
Friday 21 November 2025

 

Kimi wakes alongside Ollie, both having fallen fast asleep on top of the sheets in his room the night before. They’re still in their team kit, which is going to make the act of smuggling Ollie out of his room a little more difficult when the time comes, but he looks peaceful and so Kimi takes great care to untangle himself from long, twisted limbs without disturbing Ollie. He grumbles a little, complaining about the lack of warmth, but he remains unconscious. Kimi, meanwhile, feels better rested than he has done in a while. It’s not often he’s in a position to be sleeping alongside his boyfriend, but whenever he does it’s enough to keep the nightmares well and truly at bay. His mind was blissfully empty as he slept, and even though waking up means his daily face off with a shower, he feels ready to deal with it.

 

He feels less ready during, and afterwards it feels as much of a disaster as it always does, but by the time Ollie is awake he’s managed to wipe his frightened tears and get dressed in a clean outfit. He’s sitting on the sofa, cross legged, looking through his schedule for the day as he releases some of the venom into a vial. Kimi has half a mind to hide it from Ollie when he starts to sit up, but he chooses not to. There’s no sense in hiding something like this from him now.

 

Rather than slinking out straight away, Ollie instead opts to shower in Kimi’s bathroom - something Kimi is more than happy to facilitate. A year of changing close enough to knock elbows in Formula 2 means it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but getting an eyeful of Ollie when he emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist is an almost divine experience. His shoulders are broader, his abdomen more chiselled, his hip bones more pronounced and his biceps more refined. 

 

He remembers the panic he felt for hours after turning around too soon and seeing some of Ollie’s skin still exposed, how Sergi was the unfortunate recipient of that panic as they’d sit in a gym together for hours and no exercise would be enough to shut him up. He’s feeling that now, tenfold. Ollie at least turns around to face away from him when he gets dressed, which means the most Kimi gets to see is a flash of his bum - though even that feels like enough to kill him. Susie, Sebastian, and Nico can have the world - he is deceased! 

 

“I need to go see my dad,” Ollie explains, and Kimi looks up with a canine still oozing venom.

 

To Ollie’s credit, he doesn’t miss a beat.

 

“Contract stuff.”

 

Kimi nods his head, not asking any more questions. He wonders what kind of contract he’s going to be signing. Fred gave him his word that if Mercedes don’t renew his contract for next season, he’s first in line to take the empty seat. It must just be a pre-contract, or perhaps Fred is going back on his promise. His word isn’t the same as a piece of paper with signatures and dates on the dotted line… 

 

“I’ll see you later then,” he replies, licking his teeth. 

 

Ollie finishes towel drying his hair before he leaves, and Kimi waits in his room until Sergi brings him his breakfast. He takes the little plastic box to his parents’ suite, sitting with his family for a few hours before he escorts them to the paddock to start preparing for the day. Despite the events late last night, he isn’t thinking about Nico or Susie, he’s just thinking about driving. With a final hour of Practice and then an hour to make the most of Qualifying, he doesn’t have time for his mind to wander.

 

He has a meeting with Bono, which is productive as always. Now that his relationship with Ollie is real and defined, he spends more time comparing his data with George’s and less time doodling Ollie’s name in the margins of his notebook. They talk about a few potential balance tweaks to help find a later breaking point and carry more speed into the corners, and a slight adjustment to the rear wing to give him more of a gain from the DRS. There’s so much to consider, so many ways they can try to make the difference between P3 in his Qualifying simulation and P1 in actual Qualifying, and so many ways they can ruin the setup too. It’s a knife edge they’re walking, but one that Bono’s deeply accustomed to. If anyone can guide him through it, it’s Bono.

 

Practice goes well enough. P4, but he feels more confident with the car than he did yesterday. It might not look as good on paper, but there’s a good chance that McLaren have already turned their engines up to try and intimidate them into making more changes. They’ve got a good thing going, and Kimi trusts that the team has done their job just as much as the team trusts that he will do his when the time comes. 

 

Between sessions, the pit lane is bustling with activity. Whilst Formula 3 is long since over, and Formula 2 doesn’t make the trip across the ocean to support the weekend, the F1 Academy season is reaching a crescendo. Once Kimi’s finished expressing his venom in his driver room he takes his lunch and makes his way to the Prema pit wall, nudging Rene and Pedro the human as he slides into the empty chair between them. He pulls on a set of headphones to listen to the chatter between Pedro and Doriane as he eats his pasta, not saying a word to give away his presence. 

 

It’s a big weekend for Doriane. She’s on pole for both races, and if all goes well she can clinch the title today. The only person that can mathematically stop her is Alba Larsen, who’s been on a late season charge and is the only real threat. But as long as Doriane finishes the race with two points to her name - or less if Alba doesn’t win - she wins. 

 

And if her start is anything to go by, she’s going to win. She pulls away cleanly, with Maya and Chloe fighting behind her and Alba managing to pip them both for second. A podium is great, but it’s certainly not going to be enough to close the gap to Doriane. Kimi is transfixed, watching the screens, listening to the engines as the cars accelerate down the straight, managing several clean laps before a safety car comes out. The Ferrari curse has seeped down into the feeder series for the weekend, and Aurelia’s car splutters to a halt far enough away from a gap in the barriers that marshals need to run out on the track to push her to safety. 

 

Kimi watches as the field bunches up whilst the laps tick down, sipping his water as he listens to Doriane and Pedro discuss the best time to go on the restart whilst she tries to keep temperature in her tyres. But when the restart comes, it barely even matters, because safety cars breed safety cars and in true F1 Academy fashion there’s another incident before a lap is completed. Tina’s made a bold move down the inside of Maya for P4, and the contact between them is enough for the race to be neutralised once more. 

 

On the second restart, Doriane does a better job of escaping up the road from Alba, who in turn puts enough of a distance between herself and Chloe in P3 that the race becomes a battle for the final step on the podium. Kimi finds himself gasping and wincing more than he does when he’s racing, a spec series providing far more opportunities for close battling, and he’s frankly amazed that there aren’t any more interruptions to the race. Going into the last lap, the final step of the podium still isn’t decided, but Kimi’s not watching that anymore. His eyes are squarely on Doriane’s on board, the rest of the pit wall all holding their breath as they wait to celebrate. No one wants to jinx anything, but when it’s clear that she’s on the home stretch the team is rushing to the fence at the side of the track to be there to celebrate and cheer as she crosses the line. 

 

He can hear their shouts even with headphones covering his ears, and he joins in the whooping. Kimi, who has frankly done nothing to contribute and has probably just been mildly irritating by being there in the first place, high-fives with Rene and Pedro as the latter shouts congratulations over the radio. He pulls his headphones off after a few moments, jogging with the team to the end of the pit lane where Doriane will be pulling in soon. Toto’s there, of course, along with a wealth of Mercedes personnel. They stand shoulder to shoulder with Prema, mingling to get close to the barrier and embrace the young woman as soon as she climbs out of her car. Kimi hangs back a little, to give the team some space to welcome Doriane as their Champion. 

 

As she parks up, she takes a moment to herself in the car. At least, that’s what it looks like to most people. Kimi can see the slight movement of her helmet, her hand on her chest, and he has a horrible feeling that he knows what’s going on. But, after a few seconds, Doriane unbuckles herself, removing her steering wheel to stand up, reattaching it and throwing her arms above her head to the sound of the crowd cheering for her. Everyone is ecstatic, with Alba coming to congratulate her first - and then Courtney, who won the battle for the podium into the final corner - before she gets the chance to run into the open arms of Prema. Kimi can’t help but smile, even if there’s something lingering beneath the surface. He’s won Championships with Prema too, he knows what it’s like to celebrate with them.

 

Once a Prema driver, always a Prema driver. She’ll be one of them for life.

 

And then come the celebrations with Mercedes - Gwen somehow managing to get a congratulations in before Toto does. When Doriane does approach, Toto hugs her so tightly that he manages to lift her off the ground, her feet dangling down as he offers up his own commendations for her Championship. Kimi knows he ought to go and speak to her now, before he has to go back to the garage and start preparing for Qualifying, but he still hangs back. He’s not the only one keeping their distance, as journalists fight their way forward to take photographs of her. Abbi Pulling is standing beside him, her hands clasped together as she stares at the new Champion.

 

He recognises the look on her face, and he decides that he’ll leave Doriane to her celebrations. He can congratulate her later. There are plenty more people that she’ll want to see before him.

 

Kimi makes his way back to his driver room and starts to get ready for the session with Sergi. He goes through his usual stretches, chatting to his trainer idly about his and Ollie’s attempts to sneak into a casino the night before whilst his head is pushed back and forth, then about how much bulkier Ollie looks compared to the start of the season as he skips. Sergi, to his credit, listens to it all, and it means the time flies by. Before long he’s headed back to the garage with his trainer in tow, going through the same routine as before. A last minute chat with Bono, help from Sergi to prepare himself to drive, three pairs of hands reaching in to make sure he’s safely strapped into his seat.

 

The sound of blood pumping through his veins drowns out the roar of twenty engines firing up along the length of the pit lane, and he focuses on the task at hand. Right now he doesn’t need to be the best - he just needs to finish ahead of five other drivers. The less pressure he puts on himself, the easier it is to qualify well. As he accelerates his W16 and pulls out of the garage, he feels comfortable. There’s no tension in him, no worry that he might do the wrong thing, he just feels ready. He’s one with the car. He can feel it revving in his bones, he can feel the grip from the tyres in his fingers, and he can feel the aerodynamics in every breath he takes. 

 

Kimi drives naturally, he lets it come to him as he has done a thousand times over in the simulator, and his banker lap puts him P3 - with a comfortable enough lap that he doesn’t have to go out again. An extra set of tyres going into Q2 is always a good feeling, and his confidence only grows with every turn of the wheel.

 

Q2 is a tighter session, with mid-field teams throwing tyres at their drivers in a desperate attempt to disrupt the pecking order and squeeze into the top ten. It means Kimi uses two sets of fresh soft tyres to be sure that he’s safe, but he makes it through. When he’s back in the garage and waiting for the call from the team to emerge into the pit lane, he smiles in his helmet to see that Ollie is indeed one of the disrupters that’s made it through.

 

Mercedes have George and Kimi out at the end of the pit lane as early as they can, with George the lead car and Kimi behind. As soon as the green light is displayed, George is pulling out onto the track and Kimi is taking all the time he wants to slowly trundle out of the pit lane and build a gap. He takes longer than he necessarily needs to - certainly more than the 6 seconds he requires to stay out of George’s dirty air - because it means there’s going to be less chance that he accidentally catches his teammate, and because it means he’s going to put more pressure on the other teams’ programmes if something goes wrong. 

 

Such a gap to his teammate is a double edged sword. What he saves in the dirty air, he loses not having a slipstream down the long straights. His banker lap feels okay, but by the time he’s back in the garage there’s four other cars ahead of him, and that’s not at all where he wants to be. George is P2, with only Oscar ahead of him, so ideally they both need to improve on their second run. And George, understandably, is the one being given priority. Kimi will go out first and give him a tow. If he gets a tow himself from another team, that’ll be a bonus, but it isn’t the team’s focus. 

 

Kimi understands, mostly because he has to if he stands any chance of having a contract for next year, and so he does as he’s told when they leave the garage for their final push lap of the day. The Ferrari of Charles Leclerc has jumped them in the queue, which at least means if he manages his out lap well then he’ll get that tow without encountering too much dirty air.

 

What he doesn’t expect to encounter, heading towards the chicane at Turn 7, is a cloud of dust. From there, everything happens almost instantaneously.

 

His dash starts to flash bright yellow, indicating a hazard, and Kimi slams on the brakes as hard as he can. Yellow flags emerge from the barriers either side of him, and he feels the uncomfortable sensation that accompanies running over debris. As he continues to drive the car to the delta time, making his way back around to the pits, the lights on his dash turn as red as the Ferrari in the barriers.

 

Bono confirms over the radio that Charles is okay, and that there’s likely going to be enough time on the clock for cars to just about cross the line for a final lap, but Kimi is less optimistic. He reports the debris he drove over, and once he’s back in the pits his car is lifted up and there’s a dozen mechanics poking around the W16’s undercarriage. 

 

The conclusion? His floor is wrecked. By saving himself from crashing he’s at least preserved a start on the grid for tomorrow - as opposed to the pit lane start that Charles is almost certainly going to have to make - but it does mean that there’s no point in him going out again. He groans in his helmet as the news is relayed to him, jumping out of the car and taking off his gloves and helmet whilst the other side of the garage prepares for George to go out and eek in a final run. He can’t help but lean over the halo once he’s handed Sergi his helmet and balaclava, kissing the machinery beneath his fingers softly.

 

“Va bene, la squadra ti sistemerà. Domani ci divertiremo un po’.”

 

He stands back up and wanders to the FIA garage, weighing himself as cars emerge in the pit lane for the final showdown. He chats with Rosa quietly as they walk straight to the media pen, and Kimi pauses at the entrance to watch the final laps come in before he goes to give his interviews.

 

George manages P3, and Ollie gets P9. Kimi fell to P8, but Charles’ pit lane start will push him to P7. 

 

Kimi attends to the media once the times are all confirmed, smiling and nodding at their questions, agreeing that it’s a disappointing position to be in but these things happen. He’s confident in the car, and the points are scored on a Sunday - or, this weekend, a Saturday. It’s a relatively upbeat interview despite the fact that this is the worst starting position for him since Silverstone, but the circuit is one he can overtake at and he knows he’s faster than a good number of cars ahead of him. 

 

He’s left the media pen before anyone else even arrives, so he has no chance to congratulate Ollie on his Q3 appearance, but his walk back to Mercedes hospitality takes him through the garage and that gives him an opportunity to spot Doriane. As he approaches her, he catches his father waving a hand, letting him know that his family are heading back to the hotel. Maggie, despite the noise in the garage, is fast asleep on his mother’s shoulder, Bombo nestled in her arms as she slumbers. It would be cute if he didn’t hate that soft toy so much.

 

“Doriane!” Kimi calls to get her attention, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Congratulations! Well done,” he praises.

 

They fall into step easily. Kimi needs to get ready for his debrief with the team before he can leave for the night, and Doriane seems perfectly happy to walk alongside him and chat. The garage is busier than usual, already working on his car and starting to plan for how George can take down two McLarens tomorrow without a rear-gunner. Heading back to his driver room gives them peace and quiet to talk.

 

“Thank you,” Doriane beams. “I’d invite you out to celebrate, but you can’t drink,” she teases.

 

“I also have a race tomorrow, eh? I’d say no anyway!” He defends.

 

“I have a race tomorrow too, but I think I can do it with a hangover now.”

 

They both laugh, and Kimi shakes his head. Really, the laws here are nonsensical. He can buy a firearm but he can’t have a shot of vodka? It’s ludicrous!

 

“I think there’s someone else you’d rather celebrate with, no?” Kimi suggests, realising that he can tease her right back.

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“The not-so-reigning Champion?” He smirks, grabbing the handle to his door and leaning against it as he looks at her. “What is it they call you, eh? Pullpin?” 

 

“Hein?! Ça alors, how do you know that?”

 

“Which part?” He snorts. “Abbi, or the name?”

 

Kimi pushes the door handle down and finally steps inside his room, letting Doriane follow him in. She’s bright red and, in the smaller, more enclosed space of his room, he can smell the champagne that she’s not quite managed to rinse away in the shower. 

 

“We are less obvious than you and Ollie, no?” 

 

“Ah, maybe,” Kimi chuckles, starting to pull off his race suit. 

 

He keeps his back turned as he changes, for the sake of Doriane, and whilst he’d like to continue talking to her they’ve very quickly interrupted. 

 

“Friend Doriane! Pedro would like to congratulate you on winning the Formula 1 Academy Championship!” 

 

“Pedro!” She grins from ear to ear, and Kimi sees her crouching down in front of the table he’s sitting on from the corner of his eye. “Thank you! Were you watching?”

 

“Friend Sergi allowed Pedro to watch on the television!” He declares joyfully. “Pedro was very happy for friend Doriane!”

 

“Pedro is not allowed to watch things unaccompanied,” Kimi explains, pulling his jeans quickly over his hips before turning around to address them both. “He discovered TikTok on my phone when I was in the simulator last week. It was a disaster.” 

 

It makes Doriane laugh, and Pedro’s little interface turns into a frown. He is clearly not happy about this secret being divulged. What makes Kimi’s face turn to a frown is when Doriane’s laugh becomes a cough, and she reaches out for the wall to steady herself as she doubles over and covers her mouth with her free hand. Kimi pulls his shirt over his head and crosses the room to fill a small cup with water, offering it to her as she splutters. It still takes far too long for her coughing to cease, and he watches on uncomfortably, wishing there was something more he could do for her.

 

Eventually, her lungs resume operating as usual, and she sips at the water she’s been handed.

 

“Merci,” she mutters.

 

“Pedro is concerned about friend Doriane! Silver Spider, should Pedro contact friend Sergi for assistance?”

 

“It’s okay, Pedro,” Kimi says softly. “We’re handling it.”

 

Doriane nods her head, but neither his words nor her gesture seem to please the little robot terribly.

 

The concern on his interface doesn’t leave, but after a beat the reason for it does. And Kimi feels it too, a tingling in his wrist. Really, he’s not sure why he’s so surprised, but he liked to think that maybe he’d have gotten around to doing something to stop the Hornet before he acted. Operating on the assumption that he wasn’t going to do anything until the conclusion of the race weekend was his first mistake, and he finds himself once again having to disobey direct orders from Toto. 

 

It’s not going to go down particularly well, but somehow he thinks that when he explains why he did it and tells him that his wife is the puppeteer pulling the strings, he’ll be focused on things other than Kimi’s betrayal. 

 

Kimi moves quickly, turning on his heels to pick up his bag and start pulling out his gear, and Doriane’s eyes widen. 

 

“What’s happening?” She asks him, shrugging her bag from her shoulders as she does the same thing.

 

She doesn’t question him - a realisation that’s slightly terrifying - she just pulls off her shirt and starts to change into her suit. 

 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I never know. I get a tingle, eh, but that’s it. Just a gut feeling that something is wrong.”

 

“Danger! Danger!” Pedro exclaims, confirming his senses are accurate as he removes his jeans as quickly as he put them on. “Silver Spider! Pedro must inform you–”

 

“No time, Pedro,” Kimi says quickly. 

 

He’s already toeing on his boots even as he fastens his suit, pulling on his mask and tucking it in at the back. Without having the chance to even attempt a shower, he’s still sweaty from the last hour, which means wearing a skin tight garment is moderately uncomfortable. But such is the life of a superhero. 

 

“But Pedro has identified that the suit–”

“It’s new, I know, I know. I’ll figure out whatever has changed, hm?” He promises. “Go and find Ollie, please? If anything happens to him, you tell me, alright?”

 

“Pedro will assist the Silver Spider as requested!” Pedro confirms.

 

The little robot swings himself out of the room - through a small, slightly opened window - whilst Kimi pulls on his gloves. Without knowing what the Hornet is going to do, he’s anxious. Drivers, teams, and fans alike are still at the track - if the circuit is attacked then it’ll be a bloodbath. His gut, thankfully, is pulling him away from the circuit, but he knows that he needs to cover all bases. As Doriane finishes dressing herself beside him, he takes his phone and sends a text to the group chat. Sergi, Esteban, and Pedro the human will all see the message, and they’ll all be in a position to leap into action if something happens whilst he’s not there. 

 

“Are you sure you’re coming?” Kimi asks Doriane, whose head snaps up.

 

“Of course I am,” she scoffs. “You think a little cough is going to stop me?”

 

He wants to counter that her cough has well and truly evolved beyond little by now, but there’s little point in having that argument right now. She’s offering to help, and for all he knows he’s going to need all the help he can get.

 

“Follow me,” he tells her.

 

And with that, Kimi darts out of Mercedes hospitality with Doriane hot on his heels. He shoots out his web and offers her his hand, their fingers interlocking before he pulls them both towards the sky. 

 

In a place like Las Vegas, Kimi doesn’t really need to listen to the tingles in his wrist. As much as it was useful a few moments ago, in confirming that whatever is happening is happening a long way from the track, he doesn’t need it now. Rather than using it to find where danger lies, he just needs to listen to the fearful screams that build several blocks away and start to swing himself and Doriane straight towards them. With towering buildings as far as the eye can see, it takes no time at all to gain momentum and quickly hurtle down the Strip. The place is clustered with helicopters and air traffic, planes taking off and landing from the various airports across the city as executives and VIPs make their way from casino to casino with propellers rather than engines, which does make coordinating their path a little trickier. 

 

In the end, he lands them both on top of the Eiffel Tower - something for which Doriane is not at all pleased about - but his focus is less on her critiques of the stolen architecture and more on the brightly illuminated streets below. The place is chaotic at the best of times, but there’s rules to that chaos, order that explains how people ought to move and who has the right of way. Right now, people are just running with no sense of direction other than away, and Kimi takes that as a good sign. If people are running away, then they haven’t been injured so catastrophically that they can’t run anymore. As he observes the movement below him, he takes in the little upgrades to the display within his mask. There’s a Geiger counter in the corner now, which he decides is something he’ll thank Toto for later. Even if progress is slower than he might wish, it’s going to come in handy making sure he doesn’t send Doriane into an area that’s only going to add to her ailments.

 

Right now, there’s nothing above background levels of radiation, which is enough for him to exhale. Maybe the Hornet hasn’t brought any nuclear weapons to Las Vegas. 

 

“Look, down there,” Doriane points - having come to the end of her rant about the Tower they’re perched upon.

 

There’s a mass exodus of people from Caesars Palace, the next block over, and Kimi doesn’t think twice as he jumps off the tower and shoots out his web. Actually, he doesn’t think once, not until he needs to start dodging palm trees and temporary Grand Prix related infrastructure. Doriane is close behind him - swinging more conservatively - whilst Kimi is practically skirting the pavement. He has to tighten his core and keep his legs above his bottom to keep from kicking anyone in the head as they make their way towards the grand complex of hotel, shops, and casino.

 

Landing is smooth for him - he’s come an awful long way from the trees and swimming pools of Jeddah - and he holds out a hand to steady Doriane when she lands beside him. Then it’s just a question of running in the opposite direction to the crowd, heading into the foyer of the building instead of out of it. Unsurprisingly, they’re the only two stupid enough to be running against the tide of people.

 

As a Formula 1 driver, Kimi will admit that he’s gotten rather accustomed to luxury. It’s not just the First Class treatment on planes, it’s the fancy clothes, the nice cars, the expensive watches, he’s used to caviar and Dom Pérignon, but the demonstration of wealth here is far beyond what he’s seen. It’s excessive, it’s oppressive and overwhelming, it’s downright abhorrent. Caesars Palace is far beyond Monaco. Outside, countless fountains line the front of the building, and inside there’s high ceilings and lavish décor. Chandeliers and marble statues seem to be the norm - though Kimi’s got an inkling that most of it is fake. It’s probably a cheap substitute made to look like the real thing, tricking customers into thinking they’re in the lap of luxury and encouraging them to spend more for the privilege of being there at all. 

 

Whatever it is, it’s of little consequence to him, unless he’s going to be on the wrong end of a collapsing pillar and mentally calculating how much he needs to brace for the impact. Right now the focus is on finding the Hornet and the Wasp and stopping them from hurting anyone. Or, more likely, from hurting anyone else. 

 

He runs from the foyer into the casino proper, with Doriane hot on his heels and the irony of being barred from such an establishment just twenty four hours ago not lost on him, and somehow the scale and grandeur of this room takes him back even more than the last. The ceiling barely looks like a ceiling, a sky painted above the hundreds of slot machines to give clients the illusion that time isn’t moving, to keep them sucked into their gambling longer. The hall that would normally be bustling with the sounds of people winning and losing (mostly losing) and the chiming of machines is entirely silent. Regular patrons and tourists alike have already fled for their lives, the only people that remain are the ones that have already lost theirs. 

 

Doriane steps to the nearest body, slumped over a still lit up machine declaring that the man has won the grand prize, and presses her fingers to his thick wrist. 

 

“There’s a pulse,” she reports back. 

 

So they’re alive, but they were willing to take the risk to play again rather than to run. Kimi doesn’t like the metaphor unfolding before him.

 

“We need to split up,” Kimi declares. “Cover more ground. This place is too big to search together, we’ll never find them.”

 

Doriane nods in agreement, pointing over her shoulder.

 

“I’ll go this way,” she confirms.

 

She’s already walking, and so Kimi goes in the opposite direction. He makes his way deeper into the hall, keeping a close eye on the Geiger counter in the corner of his vision, just in case he sees a rapid uptick. The fact that he isn’t, as he reaches a place where the intricate designs on the carpets are replaced with scorch marks and where the unconscious bodies are replaced with bloodied and burned ones, suggests that the nuclear armed ‘bees’ aren’t here. It’s a momentary relief, supplemented by the awful assumption that it means they’re being stockpiled.

 

The quiet of the casino hall is almost as unsettling as that realisation. 

 

Kimi passes the slot machines swiftly, leaving their flashing neon lights to demand the attention of dead men as he arrives at the table games. He doesn’t understand much of what he sees, though he recognises the poker table from his lesson with George two weeks ago. He’ll admit that he doesn’t remember the rules when it comes to playing the game, but he knows the rules now: there are no rules. If there are, they’re there to be broken. The Hornet will play dirty, which means he needs to play dirtier. It’s the only way to overcome him given his lack of weaponry. If the Hornet will stop at nothing to clamour for control, if Susie’s FIA bid is just an attempt at gathering some legitimate control to leverage as they continue to operate more aggressively, to drive fear into the hearts of ordinary people and force the hands of the people in power, then Kimi needs to find ways to undermine, sabotage, and thwart them at every turn.

 

Right now, the best way to do that is to be here, to project more confidence than he has, and hope that no one is around to call his bluff. And, maybe, that Doriane finds an unconscious maintenance worker she can borrow a wrench from.

 

Kimi soon finds himself leaving the already impressive slot machines and tables behind, only to wander into an even more ornate room. The High Limit Lounges, as the signposts tell him, are much less flashy - in a literal, LED sense. Tucked away from the bright neon and the mood lighting are rooms that wouldn’t look terribly out of place in a dictator’s mansion. Everything is luxurious, reds and creams and golds, with beautiful art and bespoke architecture. As over the top as it is, he can’t help but want to stay and take it all in. If it is real, then it feels like it should belong in a museum rather than a capitalist’s wet dream, but unfortunately heroism waits for no one.

 

His attention diverges from the room as he hears a crash and a scream at the other side of the lounge, and he runs quickly through the strewn chairs and the fallen chips to make his way towards the commotion.

 

“Doriane?!” He calls, mask relaying his voice to hers.

 

“Kimi?” She replies. “Is everything okay?”

 

Alright, so the commotion isn’t her, that’s possibly a good sign? He’s running through the teal blue blackjack tables when he stumbles to a complete halt, torso still moving with a significant moment as his legs react faster than the rest of him. It’s almost enough to send him falling forward as his feet stop dead in their tracks, but he’s lucky to catch himself before he manages that. 

 

Instead, he freezes completely, staring at something monstrous in the doorway. 

 

“Kimi?” Doriane asks again, more urgently this time. “Where are you?”

 

“Get out,” he tells her simply.

 

The mechanical ‘bees’ that make up the Swarm are nothing new at this point. Kimi is used to their malevolent presence, he knows that though they’re small in stature they’re mighty in number. He knows how to counter a small number of them, but that a group this big is going to be hard to take on. That said, it isn’t at all what’s intimidating him right now.

 

“What? Why?”

 

The singular ‘bee’ before him is what frightens him. 

 

It’s almost the same height as him, when looking at it from stinger to head. Unlike the many ‘bees’ that make up the Swarm, this creation doesn’t try to disguise its mechanical origins with a paint job. Instead, Kimi can see the individual metal plates that make up its body. Beneath those, he can only assume exists a complex wiring system. It moves with a terrifying amount of fluidity, strong wings keeping it afloat and several long, spindly legs flexing towards him. Its eye glows a deep, threatening read. 

 

Every part of Kimi is still with horror, and he has to forcibly overcome the block in his brain. Freeze is not an option here. It’s fight or flight, and he recognises that fight might be the fastest way to get himself killed.

 

He manages to take half a step back as the machine notices him, staring at him and assessing him as he continues to retreat. He does that until he’s pinned against a blackjack table, and he moves his hands behind him to press down against it and lift himself up on top of it. It watches him inquisitively, its whole body turning to face him, large tail hitting the doorframe like it’s nothing. The stone crumbles as if it’s a soft feta cheese, and the strength of this thing becomes quickly apparent. 

 

It’s going to take an awful lot more than he has at his disposal to handle. Hell, he’s not even sure if the dream team of Doriane and a wrench would be able to take it down. 

 

He finds its eye and holds its gaze, despite how it sends a chill down his spine, and he counts himself down from three. Once he reaches zero, he spins on his heels and runs along the table, sending chips flying as he jumps off to keep up his momentum and starts to run back the way that he came. He tries desperately to weave in and out of lounges and suites to throw the creature off his trail, shouting to Doriane as he does.

 

“Big bee!” 

 

He doesn’t say anything else in case it gives away his location, though he’s got a horrible feeling that a machine as large as that is probably capable of tracking him. And if it’s tracking him, then it’s probably following him anyway. And if it’s following him… It probably wants to kill him.

 

Eventually, he skids around a corner and the corridor opens up into a bar. The ceiling ascends several stories above him, bejewelled with chandeliers that sparkle in their own light and adorned with gold on every surface. Like the main hall, it’s quiet, filled with bodies that he hopes are unconscious rather than dead. It’s a difficult game to play, and between the thin cloud of gas and the tell-tale scorch marks on the floors, and walls - where some tables have been toppled and some chairs have been thrown aside - he would put it at roughly 50-50 guessing any individual’s fate. 

 

It’s a lot to take in. It’s overwhelming. At least when destruction was rained down upon Mexico City, being in the open gave a sense that it wasn’t so big. Yes, people were killed, but he could look up at the sky and see that it wasn’t everything. Here? Here it is everything. Every surface has been tainted by the Hornet and his weapons, every room contains victims of the Swarm and this new mechanical foe. There’s no escaping the all-encompassing nature of the fight he’s got to somehow win. 

 

Kimi takes a breath as he backtracks, leaving the bar behind to try and resume his task of finding the Hornet and the Wasp, preferably before he’s cornered by their weapons. There’s plenty more he needs to add to his sticky note wall when he gets out, but perhaps if he can fight them, if he can take control of their machines, then the wall can be abandoned and everything can go back to normal.

 

No, Kimi knows that isn’t true. He isn’t naïve enough to believe he’ll ever be able to go back to normal after this.

 

He makes his way between hallways and grand rooms, statues and fountains and art littering the halls in every direction. He checks anxiously through every doorway before he crosses the threshold, and he hopes that he’s managed to evade the large ‘bee’ for the time being. At some point, he’s left the casino behind and entered the hotel, and then he finds that he’s left the hotel and entered the lobby of the shopping mall. High above him is a huge glass dome, with opulent spiral escalators swirling up between beautiful columns. Everything here feels straight out of a movie, something made for children that he would’ve adored growing up but would find altogether impossible to be immersed in or believe as an adult. He stares, and he’s about to consider making his way up when he finds himself looking straight into a pair of eyes.

 

The Hornet is looking down at him, wild and powerful, grabbing onto the bannisters and leaning over to catch his attention. He’s waving erratically, bouncing up and down, and Kimi finds himself shifting uncomfortably on his feet. It all feels so bizarre, so alien, so wrong.

 

“Incy Wincy!” The Hornet calls down to him excitedly. “Did you meet my new friend yet?”

 

He doesn’t reply. Replying feels pointless. The Hornet is the sort of person who, if intent on speaking, will speak whether Kimi is an active participant in the conversation or not. 

 

“He’s very excited to meet you.”

 

As Kimi stares up at the villain he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps with how unexpected the contact is, but he doesn’t have to look around to know who is standing beside him. The only person that wouldn’t run from the Hornet is, of course, the Wasp. Kimi is quick to jerk his arm back, elbow colliding with his chest, and as the other doubles over he decides to run. 

 

He’ll take his chances with the Swarm, or that big ‘bee’, or anything other than being stuck alone in a room with the Wasp and the Hornet pinning him in on both sides. But as he starts to move his legs he finds that he doesn’t get very far at all before the Hornet drops down in front of him, tutting and shaking his head as his wings fold away.

 

“That’s not how we treat our friends,” he says flatly, reaching out for him.

 

Kimi flinches, stepping back. It’s the same offer as he made the last time he saw him, except without the same emotions tormenting him he sees it for what it truly is. It was never about kindness, never about taking care of him, never about giving him what he needed. It was manipulation, pure and simple. It was trying to sink his claws back into him without using the serum. The worst part is, he almost fell for it.

 

But not this time.

 

“You aren’t my friends,” he says simply. 

 

He can’t escape right now. The Wasp has recuperated behind him, the Hornet is standing in front of him, if he tries to run in any direction he’s going to be apprehended. Above him, there’s just a glass dome, his options seem rather limited.

 

“But we had so much fun together!” The Hornet recalls, smiling behind his mask. “Don’t you remember Belgium? Your first act of terrorism? Your first murders? The rush is like nothing else, isn’t it?”

 

“I was so proud of you,” the Wasp adds from behind. “You were always the fastest learner, Antonelli.”

 

Kimi winces. The identity of the Wasp is something he’s not particularly made an effort to address, even with his recent wave of opening up and letting people in. He’s told them who the Wasp is, but that’s it. He’s not given too much thought about the betrayal of someone who’s guided and mentored him for years. Nico Rosberg was a fundamental part of his early career, teaching him a lot of what he knows both on and off track, and to think that something so drastic has changed in the last ten years - that he’s gone from an encouraging, wise coach to a monster that just wants to see the world burn… It’s heart breaking. He’d wager, when he really gives it all thought, it’ll hurt more than the betrayal of Susie. 

 

But the reminder is still enough to hit him where it hurts right now.

 

“Your friend Sergi should never have intervened,” the Hornet says darkly. “You were perfectly fine as things were, with us.”

 

“If you don’t come with us, we’re going to have to kill you,” the Wasp tells him.

 

At the very least, Kimi can appreciate that they aren’t trying to appear as if they’re doing this selflessly now. They’re owning the fact that it’s a threat, a matter-of-fact statement. There’s no emotion in the Wasp’s words, no enthusiasm or disappointment, it’s like killing him is just another thing on his tedious to-do list that he’d like to check off so he can sit and watch some Netflix without the guilt of an incomplete task. He wonders who’s decided he needs to be dead - if it’s the Hornet and the Wasp themselves, or if Susie is calling the shots here. 

 

He catalogues it too, something else to add to his wall of sticky notes. They want him with them, or they want him dead. Why do they want him with them? What do they need him for? They’re not exactly questions he has the time to consider right now - there are more pressing things at hand - but soon. When he’s made it out, alive, and is back in his hotel room. 

 

“That won’t happen,” Kimi replies confidently, throwing one arm up into the air.

 

He shoots out his web, latching onto the glass ceiling, and he pulls himself up as quickly as he can. As his body soars upward faster than their wings can carry them, he smirks, feeling as though he’s gotten one over on the two of them. With every moment that passes he inches ever closer to the glass above him, feeling optimistic that he’ll soon burst out into the night.

 

And then he feels something collide with him. The sensation is so forceful that it disorients him completely and he sees stars. His web snaps as he’s thrown backwards, landing in a sitting position on the floor and skidding backwards until he meets a wall with a dull thud. Kimi groans, his whole body in excruciating pain, but he knows that he doesn’t have the time to just sit there. He blinks, encouraging his vision to refocus, and as he does he sees the reason he’s not breaking through the glass and making a hasty escape.

 

That damned new ‘bee’. 

 

Its bright red eyes stare him down, and when Kimi starts to push himself up it reacts. It swings its tail around and takes out the banister in one clean sweep. It shatters, sending splinters flying in all directions and debris raining down on the marble floors below. Kimi can only imagine the Hornet and the Wasp are ascending, and that the large ‘bee’ is going to begin another assault, so he doesn’t let himself wait to see what it does next. As soon as he’s gotten to his feet, he darts down the closest corridor and tries to find something - anything - to use to defend himself.

 

It’s almost hilarious how closely this aligns with the first time he fought the Hornet in Jeddah. Then, just like now, he was running around a shopping mall looking for a weapon. All this time, money, training, and gear later, and the DIY method of fighting still seems to be the best.

 

At least, he hopes it’ll prove to be the case.

 

Kimi skids clumsily around a corner, one hand on his aching chest as he tries to soothe his pains, when he finds himself face to face with another figure. This time, rather than the Hornet or the Wasp, he’s relieved to find an entirely unintimidating looking security guard. The man is short and portly - almost spherical, frankly - and he’s trembling as he looks at Kimi. Naturally, having heard the commotion in the heart of the building and seeing everyone else fleeing, he’s kept himself as far away from it as he can, but close enough that he can claim a workplace injury and get a healthy lawsuit out of it. Now he’s standing, shaking, holding a gun that almost looks like a toy in his hands.

 

“Don’t come any closer!” He shouts, voice wavering despite the defiant act of bravery. “I’ll shoot!”

 

“Oh, really?” Kimi asks, his hopeful tone clearly perplexing the man. “Can I borrow that gun?”

 

The security guard swallows, and even as confusion blossoms across his face he still looks nothing short of petrified.

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“The gun, I need it,” he insists, stepping forward eagerly and gesturing with his hands. “Give me the gun, and run for your life!”

 

The guard says nothing, only whimpering as Kimi takes another step forward. His finger curls around the trigger and he closes his eyes, voice cracking as he speaks again.

 

“I-I’ll shoot!” He stammers.

 

“I’m the good guy!” Kimi defends quickly. 

 

In the distance, he can hear the ‘bee’ approaching him. The ground shakes as it gets closer, and the sound of footsteps is enough for him to know that the ‘bee’ isn’t coming alone. 

 

“Please,” he pleads. “If you stay here, we’re both going to die. Give me the gun, and run!” 

 

Kimi holds out one hand for the weapon and waits impatiently, looking at the security guard and hoping that he’ll come to his senses. It’s something that takes him a moment to do, but when he does he throws the gun on the floor and kicks it in Kimi’s direction before running as fast as he can in the opposite direction, screaming fearfully as he goes. As he bends down to pick up the weapon, a metal tail swishes through the air - right where his head had been just a second earlier.

 

No wonder he finally decided to run!

 

And Kimi? He decides to run too. He darts left, making sure that he doesn’t follow the slow moving security guard. The ‘bee’, of course, keeps following him. Despite how all-powerful it seemed when stuck in a room with it, its size and strength utterly terrifying, Kimi’s picking up on one major weakness now. It’s clumsy. Even just running down a straight corridor, it’s moving back and forth, hitting up against the walls, and Kimi immediately works to take advantage of that. He weaves from side to side, even as the corridor continues in one direction, trying to confuse it. When he finds a column he uses it to break its line of sight, and even though it does seem to have some kind of tracking system built in, it buys him precious seconds to extend the gap between them.

 

It takes longer than he’d like, but eventually Kimi manages to circle back around to the central hall where he first encountered his friends. He’s managed, somehow, to lose the ‘bee’ and the two villains in the intervening minutes, and so he looks over a still intact banister to verify that they haven’t split off and made their way down to meet him. Instead, he finds himself looking down at a familiar, comforting sight.

 

“I thought if I just followed the noise, I’d find you eventually!” Doriane shouts playfully. 

 

Her presence gives him confidence that the coast is relatively clear, and so he shoots out a web and lowers himself carefully back to the ground to join her. He opts to move more slowly, one arm over his chest protectively, and Doriane picks up on it immediately.

 

“Are you okay?” She asks him, reaching out and placing her hands on his shoulders. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” he whispers. “Have you seen the big ‘bee’?” 

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Don’t let it hit you. It almost took my head right off,” he says, using his free arm to swing and demonstrate.

 

Doriane winces, getting the message loud and clear, and together they start to walk. Kimi keeps his head on a swivel to try and identify any danger before it comes, not wanting to be caught off guard by that thing again if he can help it. Right now, he’s got a plan. Half of a plan. Maybe a few scraps of a plan. The odds of it working are infinitely small, but he supposes that’s just what odds look like in a casino. The house always wins, so Kimi’s just got to find a way to outsmart the house. 

 

As he follows a familiar path, back towards the bar from before, Kimi feels as if he and Doriane are being watched. He looks over his shoulders several times, but there’s never anything there. He’s on edge, though, with his gut telling him that something is about to happen and the tingling in his wrist not stopping. This isn’t over yet. At least with two of them, there’s never really a blind spot that can take them by surprise.

 

They manage to make their way back into the bar without anything disrupting them, which really only serves to make Kimi feel worse about the whole situation. The longer they go without seeing the Swarm, or the big ‘bee’, or the Hornet or the Wasp, the more they could be up to behind the scenes. His heart is pounding, stuck in his throat and making it difficult to breathe as they slowly make their way into the more open space. If they’re caught here, there isn’t going to be all that much they can use for cover. Not that it’ll matter if the big ‘bee’ shows up - he’s not confident anything here would stand a chance against it.

 

He surveys the ground, looking for signs of something, whilst Doriane’s head is tilted back and looking up. When she gasps, he snaps his head to look in the same direction, and he spots exactly what she sees.

 

The big ‘bee’. Great.

 

“It’s stupid,” Kimi tells her in an attempt to reassure her. “We can trick it easily, okay?”

 

“How sure are you that we’re not just as stupid?” 

 

She makes a great point, frankly. Anyone with sense and the ability to do so has long since left this place behind. They’re still there, so the competition is probably closer between them and the ‘bee’ than Kimi would like to admit it is.

 

“I don’t know how it’s tracking will work with two people, maybe we can confuse it?” 

 

It’s focused entirely on them right now, standing beside each other. So Kimi takes a deep breath.

 

“You go behind the bar,” he tells her. “I’ll run toward it.”

 

“Quel imbécile,” Doriane mutters - and Kimi doesn’t have to be fluent in French to understand her.

 

“Three, two, one, run!” 

 

They dart in separate directions, Doriane quickly making her way back behind the bar whilst Kimi runs straight toward the ‘bee’. It’s high up in the air, and he’s bargaining that its vision just comes from its eyes - that it doesn’t have cameras on other parts of its body to supplement it. Logically, that would mean running underneath it cuts off its view of him entirely. 

 

And, by some small miracle, it works. He’s not quite outsmarting the house - perhaps just out-stupiding it - but he’s alive, with more time on his hands, and that’s enough for him. 

 

It does, however, put Doriane in a sticky situation. The ‘bee’ is now focused on her and descending rapidly towards the bar. Its heavy wings flap noisily in the otherwise silent room, carrying it gracelessly in her direction. Kimi watches her head disappear as she ducks, just in time to avoid the tail sweeping around and shattering dozens of wine glasses hanging above her. Shards rain down on the ground, tinkling as they land, and the ‘bee’ makes a second pass. Bottles of whisky and liquor burst, spilling onto the floor, and Kimi winces.

 

The bar was full when whatever happened, happened, which means there’s dead and unconscious people everywhere. It makes it difficult to find a place to make a stand that won’t result in more people being killed, but a carpeted walkway seems to be his best bet. He pulls a few clientele further aside in an attempt to preserve their lives whilst he catches a glimpse of Doriane crawling out from behind the bar as the ‘bee’ continues to wreak havoc. Kimi knows he’s only got one shot at this, that if he isn’t able to stop the ‘bee’ like this then he’s got no idea how he can, and that’s going to become one Hell of a problem. 

 

He could really do with his good luck charms right now.

 

“Eh, mate, over here!” Kimi shouts. 

 

“Kimi, look out!” Doriane yells. 

 

He spins on his heels and spots exactly what she’s pointing out. The Swarm are approaching from behind, entering the bar from a different direction, and Kimi realises he’s being cornered. As he turns back to look at the big ‘bee’, he catches a glimpse of something else. Something yellow, something blue… And something purple. 

 

“Maggie,” he exhales.

 

Kimi blinks, forcing himself to focus. The Hornet knows he has the upper hand when he has Maggie by his side, and if Kimi allows himself to be distracted once again then he’s going to end up dead. Instead, he thinks about the task at hand. He thinks about the big ‘bee’ bearing down on him, and the Swarm flanking him. He closes his eyes and takes in another breath, raising one hand to hold the gun high above him in the air. 

 

He waits, he listens to his gut rather than anything else, and then he shoots.

 

Kimi’s surprised by the amount of recoil he experiences, but then he’s not exactly shot many guns before. He ducks as he hears something high above him shatter, throwing himself to the floor and praying he’s calculated things correctly. The ‘bee’ and the Swarm were already descending on him before, but the sound of the gunfire has spurred them on faster, and when he opens his eyes Kimi realises he hasn’t quite calculated perfectly.

 

Probably shouldn’t have given so much of his maths homework to the engineering team.

 

The Swarm gets to him first and starts to explode, and he braces. He expects that his new and improved suit will go some way to better protect him against the repeated blasts and the chunks of metal shrapnel that splinters away from their exploding bodies, but Kimi quickly learns that isn’t the case. He feels it on his right side, little pieces of far too hot metal piercing his skin and sticking in him. It burns, both because the pain is white hot and because of the high temperatures, and as the chandelier he’s shot falls over him - offering some protection from the big ‘bee’, he finds that he’s trapped with the Swarm itself.

 

Kimi, understandably, starts to panic. 

 

He’s fought against the Hornet a lot, he likes to think he’s gotten pretty good at fighting, but somehow he feels as though he’s finally reached the end of the road. Despite the chandelier on top of him, there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, there’s no way out. His body still aches from the blow the big ‘bee’ delivered to him earlier, he’s trapped, and the Swarm is exploding with such an intensity that his new suit is entirely useless.  

 

It’s almost embarrassing that he’s gotten this far, gotten this close, and now he’s going to die. Maybe someone’s been in his room and seen the sticky notes, maybe they know he’s figured out the truth, maybe his death has been expedited. Maybe that’s what that meeting between Susie and Nico was about last night, with Susie laughing and smiling, kissing her cheek as she greeted him. He wonders if she kept smiling when she made her request. He wonders if she laughed and asked them to make it painful.

 

The ground shakes beneath Kimi, and the chandelier starts to shift. Kimi operates entirely on instinct, moving his body away from the exploding Swarm as soon as he can. He outstretches his left arm and shoots out his web, anchoring it to something and using it to pull himself along the carpet and out of danger. It takes him several moments from there to be able to sit up and reorient himself, to blink himself back into awareness, to start to breathe properly again.

 

Kimi doesn’t have time to assess the damage to himself or his suit before there’s hands grabbing him and lifting him to his feet, pulling him away from the room as two bright purple birds fly out toward them. He can’t protest, can’t yell, just responds to Doriane moving him. He can question things in a minute, right now he can sense the urgency of the situation and the need to get out quickly. They’re not going to get a better opportunity than this.

 

Slowly, he’s coming back to himself. He realises that he isn’t seeing anything out of his mask, that his vision comes entirely from his right eye, so he tugs it away from his face and flings it behind him. It’s easier to take off than he’s used to, though that seems to be because there’s a gaping hole in the side of it. Clearly, he’s not the only one with an upgrade. If his suit is supposedly able to keep him safe from radiation, then he imagines that it was stronger than before too. If the Swarm can explode with that much force, even without the ‘bees’ with nuclear capabilities, then he’s terrified of what that might mean.

 

Doriane leads him back through the foyer and back out to the fountains. Without her, he’d be dead. She’s looking over her shoulder every few moments and he’s not sure if she’s trying to see if they’re being followed or if she wants to make sure that he’s keeping pace with her. But eventually they’re back out in the late evening air, and Kimi almost finds the chorus of blaring sirens peaceful. After what he’s just been through, it really is a relief to be out.

 

She returns the favour from earlier, grabbing his hand and holding him tightly as she shoots out a web and swings them both away from the casino. Kimi’s still a little disoriented, coming to terms with what happened and clinging to the euphoria that comes with knowing he’s escaped with his life by the skin of his teeth. His ears ring as they make their way through the sky, weaving through the shadows of buildings as Doriane takes them off the beaten path to avoid the countless helicopters intervening. By the time they land by the paddock, he’s starting to feel more himself again.

 

The security is, understandably, through the roof, and Kimi finds himself wishing that his teammate wasn’t such a successful GPDA Director. Right now, he just wants to make it back to his driver room so he and Doriane can recuperate from the fight, but they’re going to struggle to make it back undetected. 

 

“Sit down,” Doriane instructs, and Kimi does exactly that.

 

He starts to look himself over as he keeps low, hidden behind a series of commercial waste bins. Doriane has saved him once already tonight, and now she’s doing it again by finding a way for them to get back inside. He lets her do that, examining the extent of the damage he’s sustained. His mask, obviously, is gone. His suit is mostly intact, though it’s riddled with holes on the right side of his body, and there’s dozens of little pieces of shrapnel bedded into his skin. He starts to pick at them, wincing and muttering to himself as he does. 

 

“Ow,” he mumbles for the fifth time - enough for Doriane to turn on her heels.

 

“Would you stop that?!” She sighs, exasperated. “Ollie’s coming to meet us with our bags, we can get changed and go back to your hotel room. When I have my phone I will text the others to meet us there.”

 

Kimi nods, and he stops picking at his injuries as requested. He’s lucky that it looks an awful lot worse than it feels. Of course, that doesn’t mean it feels particularly nice, but it’s more aches and pains than anything substantial enough that he’s going to require treatment. He doesn’t need to gnaw off his own arm this time around.

 

Doriane pokes her head out of their quiet alley to flag Ollie down a few minutes later, taking their bags and leading him deeper in where they won’t be seen as she thrusts Kimi’s bag toward him. He takes it, getting to his feet, and he starts to peel his suit away from his body. 

 

“Holy shit! Kimi!” 

 

It’s a response he isn’t at all surprised about. He needs to clean himself of blood and ash, to wash the stench of death and metal from his body, and then perhaps he’ll just be ridden with bruises that slightly unnerve his boyfriend rather than downright terrify him.

 

“I’m okay,” he insists.

 

His ribs ache terribly as he moves his arms and tries to undress whilst putting as little pressure through his arms as possible. When even that hurts, he decides the best thing for it is to just operate as usual and push through the pain to get it over with faster. For a moment, the only noise breaking the silence is Kimi and Doriane pushing fabric around as they both try to change as quickly as possible, before Ollie decides to open his mouth again.

 

“Your friend is terrifying,” Ollie tells him. “Why did you name him Pedro?!”

 

“Ah!” Kimi grins from ear to ear at that. “After my old engineer! He kept you safe, eh?”

 

“He’s a spider!” 

 

“Not a real one,” he chuckles.

 

“You cannot be scared of Pedro!” Doriane gasps, stuffing her suit back into her bag. “He is an angel. If I had to pick between saving you two, or saving Pedro, I would pick Pedro every day.”

 

“I’m glad I left him with Ollie, then,” Kimi admits, pulling his own bag over his shoulder. “Thank you. For saving me.”

 

“Someone’s got to do it,” Doriane shrugs. 

 

She’s taken control of the situation naturally, and Kimi’s grateful for it. He’s happy to fall into step beside her as she leads them out of the alley, Ollie walking to the right of him to try and keep his injuries hidden as the trio make their way back to the hotel. With his things returned to him, Kimi texts his parents to see if they’re okay - to see if, once again, Maggie is sleeping soundly in her bed. His mother confirms that both are the case, and he tries not to think too hard about the implications that the Hornet seems to be able to pluck a sleeping Maggie from her bed and return her without anyone noticing. He isn’t in any state to give that kind of thought proper consideration.

 

So much chaos in the city means that no one pays too much attention to them or their injuries, and Ollie is able to lean down to whisper in his ear.

 

“I hate knowing that you’re a superhero,” Ollie admits gently. “The paddock went into lockdown and I knew something bad was happening, and all I could think about was you. What if you got hurt? What if you got killed?”

 

“I always get hurt,” Kimi tells him quietly, almost chuckling.

 

Ollie does not see the funny side of his comment.

 

“Sergi’s coming,” he adds, trying to address the situation with the seriousness that Ollie seems to think it’s worth. “He’ll take care of me, eh? I’ll be fine.”

 

“Why isn’t Doriane the one that’s hurt?” He asks instead. “Or Esteban? Or Sergi or Pedro? Why you?” 

 

“I started this,” he says quietly, licking his lips as they walk. “They’re helping, no? I would be dead if Doriane wasn’t there.”

 

Again, Ollie’s reaction makes it very clear that was the wrong thing to say. 

 

“I don’t want them to get hurt because they are there to help me. I was fighting the Hornet, and then I had to be saved. They saved me, I owe it to them to keep them safe as much as possible.”

 

“By getting yourself killed?”

 

Kimi hesitates, looking up at Ollie.

 

“Not unless that’s the only way.”

 

Ollie doesn’t say anything in response to that, raising his head and looking straight ahead as they walk. Kimi wants to say something else, but given his track record in this short conversation already it feels much smarter to just keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to die, not anymore, not now he’s letting people in, but if it comes down to it and it’s the world or him? Part of being a superhero is sacrifice, isn’t it? He didn’t choose to be given his powers, but he chose to use them in Jeddah. He made the decision then, and if it ever comes down to it then he knows what he has to do. 

 

He hopes it’ll never get there. He hopes he’ll always have someone like Esteban, telling him when it’s time to go, or someone like Doriane, smart enough to pull him out of danger when he’s stupidly run head first into it. 

 

They’re quiet for the rest of the walk, making it back to the hotel in good time and taking the elevator up to the twelfth floor. Kimi finally leads the way, letting Doriane and Ollie follow him to his room. As he slips his key card out of his pocket and rounds the corner, he sees that Sergi is already ready and waiting for him. He’ll thank Doriane for sending that text later.

 

Kimi greets his trainer, and he can feel Sergi’s eyes on him as he scans his card against the reader and pushes the unlocked door open for everyone to enter. He follows the silent instructions from Sergi, taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed as he gets ready to tend to his wounds.

 

“How did you stop the big ‘bee’?” Kimi asks Doriane. 

 

She sits on the sofa, cross-legged, whilst Ollie sits in the chair by the desk. She brings one hand to her mouth and chews at her nails idly.

 

“The web,” she explains. “I attached it to it and tried to pull it towards me. But I moved, so it flew into different things. Eventually I found something solid enough to actually stop it. I don’t think it killed it, but it bought me enough time to save you.”

 

Kimi nods, thinking through her actions. He’ll have to try that next time - because he has to assume there’s going to be a next time at this point.

 

“Ow,” he winces.

 

“Sorry,” Sergi apologises, a pair of tweezers in his hand as he works at picking the shrapnel out of Kimi’s arm.

 

“Well, what happens now?” Ollie asks curiously. “Do you talk to the team? Tell Toto what happened?”

 

“I like to think he rests,” Sergi replies.

 

Kimi doesn’t plan on arguing against that today. His body aches all over, bruises already blooming across his torso. 

 

The conversation is interrupted by a quiet buzz, and then the sound of a phone ringing. Doriane sighs as she removes her hand from her face, slipping her phone out of her pocket as her brow furrows. Neither Kimi nor Ollie say anything as she answers the call, though Kimi listens more closely than he probably should - just to keep his mind off the steady pain that comes from Sergi working on his arm.

 

“What?” She asks, her voice sounding unsteady. “Shit, are you sure? Foutre! Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

 

When Doriane hangs up the phone after the brief conversation she takes a deep breath, clearly aware that everyone is expecting an elaboration from her. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.

 

“There was too much plank wear,” she grumbles, getting to her feet and resting her hands on her hips. “They disqualified me.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Ollie states.

 

It’s not bullshit though - it’s a clear cut rule - but it’s not particularly fair.

 

“It’s fine,” she says. “I still have a buffer, eh? 24 points ahead of P2. I’m on pole again tomorrow, I will just have to win it again.”

 

“Just like Abbi,” Kimi says, as Sergi plucks a big piece of shrapnel from his arm. “Ow!” 

 

“You deserved that,” Doriane smiles, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. “That made me feel better, thank you Sergi.”

 

He nods his head to acknowledge her statement.

 

“I have to go and speak to Rene, don’t do anything stupid without me Kimi.”

 

“Ahh, I wouldn’t dream of– ow! Gentle, Sergi!”

 

Doriane laughs as she leaves, and Kimi sits quietly as Sergi works to look after him. It takes about ten minutes for a bowl full of shrapnel to be withdrawn from his arm, but after the wounds are cleaned with antiseptic wipes and bandaged, Sergi quickly assesses his ribs and gives him the okay for tomorrow. He can race. He’ll be sore, but his injuries, thankfully, aren’t more than superficial. 

 

His trainer leaves too, as quickly as he can, and then it’s just Kimi and Ollie left together. Kimi smiles, leaning back in his bed with his shirt still cast to one side, and Ollie seems to understand the silent invitation that’s been offered. He’s beside him before the door has even clicked shut, leaning over to press his lips against Kimi’s, but the gesture is quick and chaste - nothing like the long, deep kiss Kimi is looking for. When he leans over and tries to chase him, Ollie just presses a finger to his lips.

 

“You’re not allowed to die,” he says simply. “If you do, I’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself. Understand?”

 

Kimi nods his head, and Ollie’s expression softens into another smile. And just like that, the finger on his lips is gone and he can kiss his boyfriend with all the hunger in his heart. That helps to soothe his aching body more than any massage from Sergi ever could.

 

+ + +

 

Las Vegas, United States of America
Saturday 22 November 2025

 

Kimi’s day starts, as race days often do, by bracing and plunging himself into a shower. He washes his hair and body quickly, trying to stay out of the water as much as he can, and he covers himself in as much deodorant as he can to mask his poor hygiene. By the time he’s dressed, Ollie is waking up, and the fact that he had his bag with him when he came to the room last night means there’s no real reason for him to have to sneak out of the room. He showers and brushes his teeth whilst Kimi excretes his venom, and the whole thing feels rather domestic.

 

A very strange kind of domestic, but domestic nonetheless.

 

When they’re both ready for the day, they head downstairs to the hotel’s breakfast buffet just before it closes, helping themselves to the meals their trainers have approved for them, and they chat idly in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Most people staying in the hotel have already been and gone, so they aren’t disturbed at their table - other than by the staff cleaning the surrounding tables and preparing for the lunch rush. 

 

They do have to go their separate ways once they’ve eaten, making their way to the paddock with their teams. Kimi knows there’s a good chance he’ll be pulled aside by Toto for a stern conversation about disobeying his orders again, that he’s going to once again have to fight back and insist upon a contract for next year. Maybe he’ll reveal the conversations he’s been having with Fred, maybe that will force his hand… He’s saved from any awkward encounter by a packed schedule, though. Meetings with Bono, social content with the media team, preparation with Sergi to make sure he’s ready for the race. 

 

It’s tight, but he manages to negotiate his lunch break to be shifted to intersect with the F1 Academy race, and he’s once again able to to worm his way onto the Prema pit wall to watch Doriane win her title a second time. Any frustration she was feeling the night before has long since gone. She’s smiling and laughing with the team, elbowing Pedro the human and bantering with Rene. She even offers Alba a wave when she wanders past with her team - there’s no hard feelings there. She’s got a 24 point lead, so long as she comes ninth then she’s guaranteed to win. Alba has to win the race to claim the title, and Doriane is starting from pole. There’s nothing at all to be worried about.

 

Kimi crunches on his salad as she leads the field around for the formation lap, and Rene talks to him over the headset to explain all the different data appearing on the screen. As much as Kimi was destined to be a driver, he always appreciates being able to understand how things work for everyone outside the car.

 

Doriane comes around to the grid again fairly swiftly, with Ella Lloyd alongside her and Lia Block behind her in P3. Alba is in P5, which means she’s got to have a monumental amount of luck on her side. The Championship is Doriane’s to lose, and between the red of Prema and the black of Mercedes, fate certainly seems to favour her.

 

Her start is good. She pulls away cleanly, her driving far more conservative than usual. Her competitors know, just as much as the world does, that she doesn’t need to win this race to win the Championship. She has to play it safe and finish, even if that finish is as low as ninth. It spurs them on, makes them more aggressive, and Doriane has little choice - heading into the Sphere section - but to let Ella through. Her overtake is bold and risky, but ceding the lead to the Welshwoman is far less damaging to her Championship dreams than a crash that takes her out of the running entirely. 

 

In a field full of piranhas, Doriane just has to play it smart. Three laps in, and Lia has overtaken her. That’s fine. Kimi’s on the edge of his seat as he watches her drive, knowing that she’s fully in control of the situation even as she drops back. Even when she’s being overtaken, she dictates where it happens to keep it as risk free as possible. 

 

Of course she wants to be on the top step of the podium, but that means far less than carrying the trophy that comes with winning the title.

 

As Kimi crunches on a piece of grated carrot, he frowns. Doriane’s dropped two positions in the space of a couple of corners. That feels less like control - and by virtue of the fact that Pedro is on the radio to her, he can only assume he agrees.

 

Kimi’s focus moves from the live feed to the onboard of her car, where he can see that she’s only got one hand on the steering wheel. The other is firmly planted on her chest, and her helmet is jerking erratically back and forth. His heart sinks, and he closes his eyes as he tries to ignore what’s happening. Because to him, it’s obvious - she’s coughing. She’s going to lose her Championship on a technicality and on illness, an illness that she’s only gotten because she’s directly tied to him.

 

It’s not about him, of course, but he can’t help but feel responsible as she sinks further and further down the field. Out of the points entirely. She manages to keep the car going and, as her cough eases, she’s able to push on with her race, but without a safety car intervention she’s entirely out of contention. 

 

And then, as happens in every F1 Academy race, the safety car intervention comes. Ella and Lia, aggressive at the head of the field, coming together. Kimi’s heart leaps - this is her chance to get back into the points! But his rejoice is short lived.

 

She runs over the debris, littered across the track. She gets a puncture, and there’s nothing she can do to keep her own car from running out into the barriers. 

 

The impact is, thankfully, small in the grand scheme of things, but that does little to soften the blow that comes with Alba currently sitting P2 - behind Aurelia. Her Championship contender is out of the race, there’s one car between her and victory. Aurelia might want redemption for yesterday’s disappointment, but Alba’s got nothing to lose. P2 isn’t enough for her to win, so if she’s going to finish P2 she might as well not finish the race at all.

 

Kimi watches with bated breath as the safety car comes into the pits, the Prema pit wall dead silent as they watch the restart. Even if Alba gets Aurelia now, there’s still 6 more laps for her to fight back and reclaim the victory. 

 

Alba does make the position, but she never relinquishes it. 

 

And just like that, the title that Doriane claimed yesterday has slipped through her fingers.

 

She’s back in the garage by the time Susie Wolff waves the chequered flag for the last F1 Academy race she’s presiding over as CEO, and Kimi is the first to go to her side to try and comfort her. But Doriane shrugs his hand away when he places it on her shoulder, insisting that she’s fine, that these things happen, that he needs to go and start preparing for his own race. To her credit, she’s right about one thing, but leaving Doriane now feels awful. 

 

He’s cost her that title. If he’d been a little more subtle about being the Silver Spider, she might never have figured out his identity. If she didn’t already know who he was, would Sergi ever have approached her to help? And if she hadn’t gotten involved, would she have lost her title like this? His mind threatens to run away from him briefly, and he wonders how much Susie knows. If she knows that Doriane is part of the group helping him, would she go so far as to sabotage her Championship by falsifying that her plank wear exceeded the limit? 

 

Kimi shakes the thought from his head. He has no idea how he’s going to be able to make it up to her, but he’ll have to come up with something later. For now, he has a driver parade to attend, a race to warm up for, and a recovery drive to perform to limit the points lost to McLaren.

 

As predicted, Ferrari have had to make substantial repairs to Charles’s car, and so his P7 grid slot is revoked and everyone else moves up a place. It doesn’t help too much in the scope of the Constructors battle, given that the difference between P7 and P8 is only 2 points, but it gives Kimi a slight swing in the Drivers Championship. He’s 31 points behind Charles, which is a big ask with only three weekends to go, but a day like today is something he can really capitalise on. He’s got to make the most of today.

 

Kimi keeps his head down, keeps himself laser focused on strategy and data even as his parents come to wish him well. His father is on the grid with him, holding his water, whilst Sergi adjusts his cooling jacket and Bono relays information from his iPad to explain the information they have on track condition from his reconnaissance laps. He doesn’t let anything else cross his mind - even when Ollie’s standing just inches away from him. They wander up to the front of the grid for the anthem together, but Kimi’s got his headphones over his ears to show that he doesn’t much want to talk right now. Ollie gets poached by Martin Brundle on a grid walk anyway, and Kimi slots into place behind his grid kid. He’s flanked by George and Esteban, and he feels quietly confident about the race ahead of him.

 

Sergi has his scooter for him once the anthem is over and he hastily makes his way back down the grid - further than he’d like - to finish getting ready. He’s in the car with several minutes to spare, performing his radio check and thinking about the laps ahead of him.

 

Kimi starts his race aggressively, on soft tyres, trusting them to get to temperature more quickly in the cold night air, and he makes up two places on the opening lap. His mind is bursting with strategy as he listens to Bono’s voice over the radio encouraging him on, but getting past Max Verstappen is never an easy task. He’s on a different strategy, and on different tyres, which means he has to do something different - so he goes for a ballsy overtake into Turn 9. It shouldn’t work, by any stretch of the imagination, but it does. It does and he’s got a few corners to make the most out of his surprise overtake to build up a gap that’s big enough to keep the DRS zone along the back straight from hampering his effort. 

 

He manages to keep Max behind him, and with his position secured it becomes a game of building as much of a gap as possible. The McLarens ahead are threatening to run away with it, but George has become a problem. He’s passed Lando and sandwiched himself between the teammates, and Kimi’s glad to see on the screens that he zooms past that damage limitation is working out how they need it to.

 

Kimi has an early pit stop, which forces other drivers to pit and try - and fail - to cover him off, and that in turn gives the leaders clean air to pit into. It’s a gift on a silver plate to Mercedes, when McLaren fuck up Oscar’s pit stop and George comes out of the pits in the lead. And it’s a lead that he keeps until the end of the race. Kimi spends the rest of his race nursing hard tyres to make a one-stop work, despite his painfully early stop, and somehow it’s enough to cling onto P4. A distant P4, but P4 all the same. 

 

It means that Mercedes still outscore McLaren by 4 points, that Kimi only loses 3 points to Lando (but stays ahead of him in the Drivers’ Championship), and that he narrows the gap to Charles by 12 points. Quite frankly, it’s the best outcome he could’ve hoped for - save for the McLarens coming together and gifting him a P2 - but he feels like celebrating as if he’s on the podium as he makes his way back round to the pit lane. It’s almost better than a podium, really, because there’s no additional media duties coming his way. That sort of thing is a blessing at the best of times, but at the start of a triple header, this close to the end of the season, it’s something he appreciates tenfold. He’ll be able to get a full night of sleep before he has to get on a plane to start his long trip to Qatar tomorrow morning. 

 

Kimi’s the first to congratulate George on his win in Parc Ferme - his lead to Oscar now 11 points with two rounds to go - before he makes his way to the scales to weigh himself and go through his own post-race procedures. Namely, head to his driver room to change out of his race suit into a pair of dark sweatpants and a clean team shirt. It’s loose fitting and comfortable, and it enables him to fall asleep during the debrief if the focus moves away from him and he can get a head start on adjusting his body to the rapidly approaching shift in time zones. He begins to pack up his things, including an idle Pedro who’s spent the day in the room after Ollie left him in a panic the night before. 

 

When he leaves to head to the back of the garage, bag already on his shoulders and mechanics already hard at work packing down, he spots Bono approaching him and patting him on the shoulder as he delivers the disappointing news.

 

“The team’s going out to celebrate George’s win.”

 

“Aww, mate,” Kimi complains dramatically, leaning against a surface and shaking his head. “What about me, eh? I can’t come!”

 

“I’m sure George will call the hotel and have a sparkling apple juice sent to your room on the house,” he snorts, waving as he walks away.

 

Kimi just sighs, rolling his eyes as he tries his best to stay out of the way of the team working around him. A night out will be good fun for them all, but they still need to pack down as much as possible before they head out. Access will be limited in the morning, the bulk of the gear needs shifting now for it to arrive in Qatar in good time. As soon as George is back from his press conference, still sticky from the champagne and stinking of sweat and motor oil, they have their team debrief. After a result like this, it would usually be pushed to a Monday morning to let everyone celebrate, but the time crunch of a triple header means that the schedule is non-negotiable. Disappointing as it is, Kimi will at least be able to have a lie-in before having to make his way to the airport tomorrow.

 

By the time the meeting comes to an end, the garage is almost empty and the track has been transformed back into public roads - opened again for use. George nudges his shoulder gently as the group mingles, making small talk about where’s going to be the best place to spend the night partying away. In a city like Las Vegas, Kimi isn’t entirely convinced there’s a bad answer.

 

“Sorry you can’t join us tonight, mate,” George says, and he sounds truly apologetic. “And two dry countries next, eh? You’re going to have to go crazy with your friends back in Italy before the Christmas party, build up your tolerance a bit. Remember how bad it was last year? Imagine what’ll happen if we win the Constructors! You’ll have a hangover for a week!”

 

“A hangover?” Kimi laughs. “Bwoah, you might, old man. I don’t get hangovers!”

 

George tsks and shakes his head affectionately. 

 

“Suddenly I don’t feel so sorry about you being stuck in your room all night,” he teases. “Fernando’s still offering to fly us to Qatar tomorrow if you want. We’ll be making a stop off in New York to refuel, but it’s easier than trying to fly commercial. Ollie’s coming, I think,” he winks.

 

“Good. You guys can nurse your hangovers, and we’ll steal your credit cards,” he jokes.

 

That earns him a proper shoulder clap, George squeezing him tightly. The banter between them is something he’s learned, honed, and perfected between Australia and now, and he’s almost more proud of himself for overcoming that hurdle than he is of his win in Imola.

 

No, scratch that, he is far more proud of it.

 

With their conversation coming to a close, George heads out into the garage to thank the last few mechanics still working and to make sure that they’re going to be joining him and the rest of the team for some drinks during the evening. Slowly but surely, more and more people filter out of the garage, and Kimi loiters quietly at the back to observe. He’s waiting for Sergi, who’ll hopefully be able to reduce some of the pain in his ribs with a massage back in his hotel room, but for now he’s nowhere to be seen. Instead, Kimi is just left watching the ever fewer number of personnel still going about their business. 

 

When the lights start to turn off, Kimi considers pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the text from his trainer to see if he was supposed to meet him somewhere else - perhaps he’s absconded from his duties to find an Elvis impersonator willing to marry him and Bono - but before he gets a chance to give away his current location he realises that he isn’t the last one here. There’s still someone else that hasn’t joined the party, and Kimi finds himself curious as to why that’s the case. They’re sitting at a computer still, typing away in the blue light, until their phone rings. When they answer, it’s clear who they are.

 

Toto. 

 

It surprises him. Toto plays just as hard as he works. If there’s a team celebration, he’ll be there, and not only because he’s usually the one picking up the tab. He’ll be missed, but it seems like he’s got a good reason for not joining them. He likes to think it’s because he’s putting the finishing touches on his contract, but Kimi knows damn well that Toto isn’t the one actually writing it. Maybe he’s reviewing the clauses, investigating if there’s some way he can control what kind of superhero activities he gets up to - though Kimi’s aching chest is a timely reminder that he hopes he doesn’t have to fight at all next season.

 

The conversation is too far away and too quiet for Kimi to pick up on anything, so all he can do is watch. After a few minutes, Toto grabs his jacket and pulls it over his shoulders, still talking on the phone as he turns off the screen of his computer and turns to leave the garage. In the near total darkness, Kimi remains hidden, and he hesitates briefly before he decides to follow the man out.

 

He is, thankfully, an easy man to tail. Toto is tall and distinct looking, which means that even following far enough away that he’ll never be caught doesn’t make the process any more difficult. He’s like a beacon, obvious to the world, and Kimi follows him through the final few journalists and photographers still in the paddock before they make it to the outside world. The streets are busy, even after the altercation last night, but trying to stop a gambler from making it to a casino in Las Vegas is like trying to stop an alcoholic from drinking in a brewery. 

 

The route that Toto takes confuses him somewhat, because it’s neither in the direction of the hotel he’s staying at nor in the direction of the club that the team decided to celebrate George’s win at. He’s heading deeper into the city, and Kimi knows his curiosity won’t be satiated until he knows exactly where he’s going. 

 

He follows him for several minutes before Toto steps into a restaurant - one of the few not attached to a hotel, bar, or casino. It’s high end, the sort of place where you get moved to a different table mid-meal because Taylor Swift has arrived and wants to sit in the specific seat you’re at. Even with the salary of a Formula 1 driver, it’s the kind of place that’s far out of Kimi’s price point for an evening meal. He’s pretty sure someone as well paid as Max or Lewis would only come here once in a blue moon, rather than picking it as their place of choice for their evening meal during race week. So it’s clear, immediately, that Toto is there for a very specific purpose.

 

Unfortunately, Kimi finds that just following Toto to a restaurant of this calibre hasn’t satisfied his curiosity. In fact, it’s only whet his appetite to learn more. It could be anything - from wining and dining Mohammed Ben Sulayem into pulling a few strings and winning George his first title, to celebrating the signing of a contract with the driver that’s going to replace him. Perhaps, in some sick and twisted kind of karma, he’s having an affair. Maybe Susie comeuppance for being the ringleader behind the Hornet, the Wasp, and the Swarm is that her husband is seeing another woman and is about to pull the rug out from under her feet, taking the money and power that comes with the Wolff name and Mercedes ties that she’s been using for the last year or longer. 

 

He tries to enter, to find the answers, but he’s quickly stopped at the entrance and asked for his name for the reservation. But Kimi doesn’t have a reservation, or a name that he’s confident will be on there, and he’s told quickly that they’re fully booked. No walk-ins. He’s turned away, and he sighs as he wanders back out onto the street. His mind suddenly fills with images of Toto and Max in a booth together, laughing over a bottle of champagne as Max is welcomed to the team. If something like that is happening then Kimi needs to know - he can change his plans and text Fred, fly with him to Qatar, try and sign something on the plane just to keep himself on the grid for next year. 

 

Kimi has no choice, he needs the answers to what’s going on - if only to plan what he needs to do going forward - which means he needs to find a way to eavesdrop. The way he sees it, he has two options for making that happen. Either he finds a way to sneak in, or he uses the tools at his disposal. So he wanders around the corner of the building, into an unlit, trash filled alleyway where the staff will emerge to vape, and he crouches down by several filled refuse bags. Rats squeak and run away as he shrugs his bag from his shoulders and unzips the front pocket, reaching in to pull out the little spider. 

 

Carefully, he places Pedro on the ground and presses the sensor on his head to turn him on. As he springs to life, Kimi is quick to lean down and shush him. 

 

“Pedro, I need you to find a way into the dining room, okay?” He says softly, making sure no one is around to hear him. “I’m going to have my watch on so you can talk to me. Can you repeat what you hear?”

 

“Pedro will assist the Silver Spider!” Pedro declares, in a surprisingly softer tone than he normally would.

 

“You just need to get close enough to Toto to hear what he’s saying, mate. Understand?”

 

Pedro doesn’t reply in the affirmative. In fact, he doesn’t reply at all. The little spider just bends his legs and moves his body backwards, as if he’s hiding something. Kimi finds himself frowning at the robot’s body language, tilting his head curiously.

 

“Pedro?”

 

“Pedro cannot do such a thing for the Silver Spider, Pedro is sorry for his inadequacies.”

 

It’s possibly the first time Kimi’s ever heard the little robot anything other than enthusiastic and excited, and Kimi furrows his brow in confusion.

 

“Eh? Why can’t you do that?”

 

“It is against Pedro’s programming!”

 

That answer clears up little for Kimi, who finds himself just as confused as before. All he’s asking Pedro to do is relay a conversation to him, he can’t think of any reason why that would be against Pedro’s programming. But he doesn’t think twice about it, because if Pedro can’t help him then he just needs to find a way in himself. He turns Pedro back into idle mode, tucks him back into the bag, and makes his way deeper into the alleyway. Going in the front isn’t on the table, so the only thing for it is to go in the back.

 

He waits, patiently, for an opportunity to present itself to him, and it doesn’t take too long for that to be the case. A member of the wait staff comes out relatively promptly, kicking a cardboard box in frustration, before taking a vape out of their pocket and taking a long drag. Whilst the door is open, Kimi leaps forwards, throwing his bag in the gap to keep the door from falling shut before he focuses on the person in front of him vaping. 

 

They’ve heard the commotion behind them and are in the process of turning around, but Kimi knows he can’t get caught. He doesn’t particularly like that he resorts to using his web to cover their face for a non-Hornet related reason, but it’s the quickest and quietest way to subdue them without long lasting injury. As soon as they’re unconscious, Kimi puts his arms under their shoulders and drags them into the building. He pulls the person into the staff bathrooms and into a stall, locking it behind him and maneuvering awkwardly in the small space to remove his Mercedes team shirt and switch it out for their plain black button-up. It’s adorned with a pin, the name Oli available for the clientele that wish to speak with them, and he makes a note of it, just in case someone calls the name as he gets to his knees and crawls out from underneath the stall. Hopefully if anyone comes in, they’ll see the bag and the feet below the door and won’t try and get in themselves.

 

Kimi leaves the bathroom with his head held high, radiating confidence as he walks into the dining room. As a server, he blends into the background, and no one seems to notice that Oli is a completely different person than before. No one questions his being there, and that buys him time to look around and search for his boss.

 

The man in question is sitting in a booth on the other side of the restaurant, accompanied by two others whose backs are to Kimi. It’s impossible to identify them from this angle, so far away, so he has to gradually approach the table. If he does anything suspicious, then Toto will look up and recognise his face in an instant, and he doesn’t have any kind of lie to hand that would explain away something like this - or the unconscious person in the staff toilet whose identity he’s assumed - so he knows he has to be careful. 

 

Kimi grabs some dirty plates from a table and carries them with him, adding to his disguise as he wanders gradually closer to Toto’s booth. He watches his boss closely, out of the corner of his eye, hoping he doesn’t feel like he’s being watched. The moment Toto turns his head to look behind him, Kimi moves forward urgently and slides into a seat at the booth that backs onto the table with Toto and his dinner guests. It’s full, of course, and Kimi is forced to shush those sitting alongside him. The sheer audacity of what he’s doing seems to have stunned them all into silence, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t need to worry about the people around him. It means that, instead, he can lean back to listen without a care in the world.

 

“What you did yesterday was utterly unacceptable,” Toto says.

 

His voice is firm and furious, and he’s speaking fluent German. It makes picking up the exact nuance of the conversation more difficult, but Kimi can still get the gist of what it is he’s saying. Why he’s speaking German, he really doesn’t know.

 

“You almost killed him!” 

 

“He came to us,” one of his guests replies.

 

And Kimi feels his blood run cold.

 

“I don’t care what he did, I’m dealing with him separately,” he spits. “I’ve told you for months, you aren’t to cause any substantial damage before the season ends. He’s more useful alive than he is dead right now. If you can’t win him over once the season is done, then by all means, do as you please.”

 

“He and that brat of a girl destroyed our new equipment, took out more of our Swarm,” another voice chimes in. “You spent millions developing it, building it, you promised it would be state of the art. Those wretched little pests managed to break it in minutes.”

 

“It was a prototype,” Toto reminds them both. “It was useful feedback. We still have time to make adjustments. I’ll have the team fit upgrades before the shipment leaves.”

 

Kimi’s eyes have been gradually widening as the conversation progresses, and he realises that his jaw is now entirely slack, his mouth wide open.

 

“And what about your wife? Can she be trusted?” 

 

“Of course she can,” Toto snaps. “I have more than enough ways of making sure she falls into line. Perhaps if Bumblebee were to need a friend,” he chuckles darkly. “If she steps out of line, I’ll make sure she knows exactly what I’m capable of. What we are capable of.”

 

Kimi’s hands are shaking. He knows, rationally, that he needs to stay and listen to more of what’s said. He needs as much information as possible to really be able to find a way forward with Sergi and the team. But staying and listening to more of this… He can’t. He already feels light headed, he already can’t trust himself to act subtly and responsibly. He needs to get away, as far away as possible, from the words that he’s hearing. Toto’s voice, so dark and cruel and twisted - and so casual about it all! - is going to haunt him for a very, very long time. If he stays, he’s going to do something reckless and stupid. 

 

He walks away from the table, keeping his head down just in case Toto realises that someone’s overheard his conversation, and makes his way back through the ‘staff only’ door as quickly as he can. As soon as he’s out of anyone’s sight, he runs right back to the bathroom and crawls straight back underneath the cubicle door. Kimi pulls his shirt off and throws it vaguely at its true owner, pulling his sweatshirt back over his head and picking up his bag. 

 

With the lock jammed by his webs, he needs to crawl back out and assume that, eventually, someone will come and release Oli from their imprisonment. At least they’ll be able to crawl out themselves if no one rescues them. As he pulls his bag back over his shoulders he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the sink, and he winces at his reflection.

 

Despite everything he’s feeling, the most prominent emotion he can see on his own face is exhaustion. He thought that it might be heartbreak, with the way that his chest feels like it’s imploding, or perhaps betrayal, given what he’s just heard from the mouth of a man who’s been like a father to him for years. But all he sees when he looks in the mirror is deep, dark circles around his eyes. 

 

Over the last few months he’s been through a lot. He’s been broken and bruised, on the brink of death over and over and over. He’s sacrificed almost everything to save people’s lives, he’s done everything in his power to protect complete strangers - just because it’s the right thing to do! And what has it all been for? For him to turn around and hear Toto - whom he’d trusted so desperately and so deeply, whom he’d confided in and turned to, whom he thought had been working tirelessly to support him both on and off track - drag his goodness through the dirt and offer him up for the taking once he’s outlived his usefulness? 

 

He takes a sharp breath and blinks, wondering if he might wake up beneath a chandelier and find that the last twenty four hours have been nothing more than a convoluted nightmare, but he’s still in the restaurant bathroom. He’s still standing alone, words still echoing in his head. Nothing about the last day has changed. Everything is still true.

 

And Toto is still with them.

Notes:

So...? How are we feeling? :)

Chapter 16: Issue 16: The Five Stages

Las Vegas, United States of America
Saturday 22 November 2025

 

Kimi is dying.

 

The world beneath his feet has crumbled away, and what was once solid ground is now dust carried on the wind. 

 

Every truth has been unveiled as a lie. Every fact has been revealed as a falsehood. It’s as if his world has been flipped on its head with the same dizzying whiplash that would’ve been felt throughout history - like Copernicus just proposed the Earth orbits the sun, or like Hubble had discovered galaxies beyond the Milky Way. His memories feel warped, as if he’s staring over the event horizon. He’s looking at pictures frozen in time, stretched out to reveal every flaw. Every miniscule detail that was wrong, that he missed in the moment, is now painfully obvious.

 

He looks in the mirror and watches as a cavity opens up in his chest, flesh and bone melting and dripping to the floor. It pools at his feet, dark and wet under the fluorescent bathroom lights, staining the white tiles beneath his feet with a thick black ichor. He glances back up and stares at the abyss where his chest used to be, a deep, dark void now calling to him. Kimi wants to climb inside. It looks inviting, it looks safe. The warmth would cradle him and keep him safe from the outside world, from every bad thing that has ever or could ever happen to him. No evil could touch him there. He outstretches his arm, lengthening his fingers as much as he can. Even as leaning forward makes more blood pour out of the open wound in his chest, he keeps leaning, keeps reaching. 

 

A cold chill runs up his spine when his fingers brush against the mirror.

 

Kimi blinks, looks at the pale reflection of himself. He’s hollow and broken, but the weeping wound is nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Somehow, he finds himself missing the image staring back at himself. Because if that was real, then he could hide from the truth. If that was real, then he could wrap himself up in a blanket woven from tissue and muscle and pretend that what’s happening isn’t happening. 

 

Because this time it isn’t a dream, nor a nightmare, it’s just life. His life. And it’s going to be his life forever. The bedrock that he thought was so everlasting, so secure, has been switched out seamlessly for sand and now everything is collapsing in on him.

 

He chokes on his breath as his hands drop to the side of the sink, and he somehow finds the strength in his body to push himself away. Thinking of things as whole things right now is too overwhelming, so he breaks them down. He’s not walking back to his hotel, he’s lifting his left foot, putting his left foot down. Raising his right foot, putting his right foot down. His body feels heavy, but certain and true. He knows his body, and it responds to his commands. It doesn’t betray him. His feet find the concrete pavement beneath them, every step, without fail. His knees feel weak and threaten to falter, but they don’t. He stands true and upright. In the distance, his ears recognise the sounds of horns blaring and people shouting, but none of that information is taken in by his brain. It’s discarded as soon as it’s acknowledged. 

 

Kimi swings his arm with more accuracy than he’s expecting, his hand finding his pocket and pulling out the key card for his hotel room. He barely feels the brush of fabric against his fingers, body numb to any and all stimulation, as he moves his way slowly through the world. It’s like wading through treacle, his legs weighed down with the same ballasts they use in his car. 

 

He’s not sure how long it takes him to get back, or how he gets back, but eventually Kimi finds himself walking the disorienting corridors of the hotel. It makes his head spin, like he’s drunk on champagne or white wine. Everything looks the same as it did when he left, but now it feels fundamentally different. The walls feel as though they’re closing in on him, trapping him in a prison. He doesn’t know if it’s a prison he built for himself, or one that Toto handed him the bricks to build for him.

 

Toto. 

 

The name that once brought with it a wash of security is now like poison on his tongue. It tastes sour, it makes him grimace, and he tries to push the feeling down as he waves his key card over the scanner of his door. It takes three attempts to get inside, but no amount of attempts can push down how he feels about Toto. He can’t bury it, because there’s nothing to bury it with. Everything he can think of, everything he feels, it all links back to him. To Toto. To the fact that his entire life has been proven as a lie. 

 

He pushes the door open and stumbles inside, listening to it close with a heavy thud as the lock clicks into place. Kimi almost expects to see Toto standing before him, scolding him for finally figuring out the truth, going against his own firm warning to Sebastian and Nico that he was to be kept alive until the Championship is over and putting him out of his misery before he can expose his secret. He collapses to his knees, his fingers pressing against the itchy, coarse fibres of the carpet beneath him. 

 

Kimi’s mind is filled with questions, and he doesn’t know where to start. When? Why? How? Why? What? Why?  

 

Why, why, why?!

 

It’s impossible to focus on any one question for enough time to start thinking about an answer. He fumbles around for a few moments thinking about the how, and then a synapse fires and he jumps to the what. He lays down on the floor, pressing his cheek against the carpet and rolling onto his side, and he just lets it all hit him. Deep down, he knows the only way to get to the other side of this spiral is to ride it out, and the best way to ride it out is to just separate himself from his mind and his body and let it happen. 

 

The wall opposite him is cream, and from the floor he’s low enough to see dozens of scuff marks from shoes over the years. There’s licks of paint - brushed on rather than rolled, if the marks are anything to go by - that’ve tried to cover it up. Maintenance has touched the wall up so often that it’s protruding several millimeters further out into the room. He wonders how much paint would be needed to barricade the room entirely, how long it would take for that many layers to dry. At what point would it crack and crumble? When would it be impossible to paint anymore?

 

Beneath him, the itchy carpet is well worn. There’s burns from cigarette butts, the pattern faded in the centre - the highest traffic areas - and he tries not to think about what else might’ve stained the carpet over the years. Blood. Sweat. Tears. He’s adding to that right now. 

 

Crying. He’s crying. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying.

 

It brings him back into his body and he finds that he has a little more control over his thoughts now. Not complete control, of course, but enough that he can steer himself towards what he feels he ought to be thinking about. His throat feels raw, as if he’s been crying for quite some time, which means it’s probably taken longer to get to this stage than he was expecting it to. But, he supposes, that makes sense, and he turns to the first question he wants to try and find an answer to.

 

When?

 

Perhaps it’s not the most pressing question - perhaps that’s why? - but to Kimi it’s everything. If this started a few months ago, if the Hornet and the Wasp came to Toto with a proposal, or with blackmail, or a threat, then maybe the betrayal isn’t quite such a betrayal. But if Toto’s been in bed with them for longer than that. A year, or a decade, then everything is a lie. From Gwen scouting him, to Nico funding part of his junior career, to signing his Mercedes contract last summer. Nothing is real anymore. His wins, poles, and podiums do nothing to prove he’s worthy of his spot in the sport if it was all just faked. 

 

Maybe it’s somewhere in between. Maybe Toto only recently started to work with them. Maybe the wheels of it all were already in motion long before Toto ever got involved, but it still raises questions about how much of the relationship between them - professional and personal - is real. Did Toto love him like a son, once upon a time, and then cast him aside in favour of a threat made against his real family? Did Toto want power beyond what he already has and pluck a random child out of a go-kart and turn him into whatever he is now: a half-man, half-monster with powers he never asked for and memories he’ll never cleanse himself of? 

 

Or maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it wasn’t Toto he saw in the restaurant, or maybe he mistranslated the German he heard. Maybe this is a nightmare, and maybe he can wake up if he just tries hard enough.

 

Kimi pushes himself off the floor, the woven pattern of the carpet imprinted on his cheek, and he moves further into the hotel room. His sticky note wall is still untouched, the links he and the team have spent the week coming up with still meandering back to Susie in the centre. His heart skips a beat as he thinks about how close they might have been to uncovering the truth, but then he’s quick to shake that thought from his head. It’s Susie. It has to be Susie. Everything makes sense if you point to her, and that means that Toto just got involved recently. His wife forced him into this, she’s the mastermind behind it all and Toto still loves him! It doesn’t matter that Toto threatened to use Jack to make Susie fall in line, it doesn’t matter that the Hornet asked if Susie could be trusted. She’s the one behind it all, pulling the strings, and he’ll find a way to make that theory fit.

 

It has to fit. 

 

He whimpers pathetically, sitting down on the end of his bed as he stares at the notes. Susie fits, but there’s no denying that there aren’t still questions. What would her involvement look like beyond just planning it all? How would she enable the Hornet to have the tools at his disposal to do what he’s doing? He can’t answer that question with Susie, but if he switches her out for Toto then he can answer it with ease. The factory. The pivot from making cars to making a superhero suit was quick, frighteningly quick - perhaps the team already had experience with designing and creating things like this?

 

Then there’s a question of what the Hornet knows. He’s repeated things that Toto has said one too many times. He knew about the darkness spreading on his arm and what it meant before he did. Susie doesn’t know about that, so how could she have been the one to supply that information?

 

He’s trying, desperately, to switch Toto out for Susie, but the more he tries the more he feels as though his attempts are in vain. With Susie, there’s still gaping holes in his theories that can’t be plugged. He tries to fill them, but it only opens up three new holes. When he replaces her name with Toto’s, it smooths everything over. Every question he has about Susie is forgotten, and he finds a way to link three new things together. 

 

His hands are shaking as he stares at the wall, eyes burning with more tears as his vision blurs. He can’t read the words or theories anymore - not that he needs to, he’s so well acquainted with them that he knows what they all say - not when they’re doing nothing but reinforcing the fact that Toto fits. 

 

Kimi isn’t sure what’s worse, the fact that he’s going to have to face up to the fact that a man who he thought of as a father just a few hours ago might want him dead, or the fact that he never saw it coming. It makes an awful amount of sense, it brings the jigsaw of information he has together so perfectly, and his inability to recognise it just becomes embarrassing. Why else would his equipment have been stalled so frequently? Why else would the Hornet have wings and he have none, even after seeing a prototype in the factory before Miami? If Susie was behind all of this, and Toto knew she was, he wouldn’t have told Kimi not to fight - he would’ve told him the truth. Which means there’s only one truth left, and he has to face up to it.

 

Toto is not, and has never been, on his side.

 

Toto does not see him as his son, and he never did.

 

Toto does not love him, and he never did.

 

The weight of the realisation ringing in his ears forces him to fall forwards, and he lays flat on the bedsheets for an undetermined amount of time. He listens to his blood pumping through his veins, and wonders if Toto planned that. If he created the antidote, did he create it to kill him slowly? Is that what’s happening to Doriane? Was he meant to suffer her fate, and he’s just gotten lucky because the spider that bit him had more of an effect on him than anyone expected? Does that mean that Doriane is dying? Did Toto have anything to do with the spider? How far back does this really go? How much of his life was his, how much was fate, and how much was pre-determined for him by a man he thought he could trust?

 

Kimi exhales slowly and he reminisces on the season through an entirely new light. He thinks about the vandalism in Australia, about the speed with which there was merchandise available for the Hornet to throw from the Oriental Pearl Tower, about the fact that the Hornet had to be able to access the paddock somehow to destroy all those cars in Japan. He wonders if Toto knew that Marco was in the Red Sea Mall in Jeddah, or if he deliberately told the Hornet to target a plane taking off between the Sprint Race and Qualifying in Miami as if it might convince Kimi not to get involved. Did Toto suggest presenting Maggie with Bombo? Did he tell the Hornet to kidnap Ollie in Monaco, or to use Doriane as a guinea pig for his serum in Montreal? Was Toto the one that tampered with his balaclava in Austria? Did he know where the Hornet took him in Silverstone - is that why he was able to save him? 

 

It horrifies him. Every race, there’s something. In Spa he was given a new suit - Toto must’ve given it to the Wasp. In Hungary the Wasp retrieved his confiscated gear and claimed that he and Toto were good friends. He feels sick reimagining it. No wonder he doesn’t have a contract for next year. Toto never intended on re-signing him, and the fact that he’s been using the possibility of a contract to try and lure him into doing exactly as he wanted when he knows damn well he’s already signed off on his execution only makes his stomach churn with more vigour.

 

One thing is clear from his thoughts: Toto is not new to this. This is premeditated, it’s pre-planned, and Kimi feels as though he’s been used. He’s been a puppet on a string for the longest of times. He felt it when he was infected with the serum, when the Hornet was the one controlling him, but Toto’s control has been so subtle that to notice it has been impossible. He thought it was love, that he was guiding him towards what was good, what was right, but now he realises he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

 

Kimi has been a tool for his whole career, being groomed for a single purpose, yet once his use expires there won’t be a reason to keep him around. And he has a horrible feeling that Toto won’t hesitate to do what is necessary, that he won’t think twice about killing him when the time calls for it. 

 

It’s a frightening, lonely thing to consider. 

 

There’s a knock at the door.

 

Kimi feels himself wince at the sound, bracing for what might happen next. If the cost of keeping him alive doesn’t outweigh the benefits, perhaps Toto has decided to come and do what he needs to two races early. Valtteri has already subbed in for him this season, there’s no reason at all he wouldn’t do it again if the situation called for it. Toto knows he can trust him to get the Championship over the line. He can see the news already, the headlines, Toto leading the tributes made in his honour… 

 

There’s another knock, more urgent this time, and Kimi buries his face against the mattress beneath him. He doesn’t want to die, he’s terrified of dying. He’s nineteen, it’s not his time yet, there’s still so much he wants to do. He wants to drive more, to win more races, to win Championships. He wants to see more of the world - preferably with Ollie by his side. He wants to kiss Ollie until neither of them can breathe, he wants to pull him to bed and peel his clothes from his body and…

 

There’s another knock. This time, it’s accompanied by a voice.

 

“Kimi?”

 

Susie. 

 

He doesn’t know why he gets to his feet, but he does. There’s still a very real chance that Susie is involved in everything, that whilst she might not be the mastermind she could still play a significant role in the events that have been unfolding. He doesn’t know why he approaches the door when there’s a good chance that Toto’s sent her to do his dirty work, that she might be the one pointing the gun at his head when the time comes. If Kimi’s honest with himself, he’d rather Toto be the one to pull the trigger. If he’s going to betray him, if everything is going to be a lie, then he likes to think that Toto would have the balls to do it himself. 

 

He doesn’t know why he opens the door, nor why he does so without bothering to wipe the tears from his face, but when he does there’s gasps from both of them. Kimi, immediately, is crouching down. Susie, just as swiftly, is covering her mouth with her hands.

 

“Maggie!” Kimi says brokenly, reaching out for his little sister.

 

She’s waist height on Susie, though he’s fairly confident she’s sprouted another inch or two. Her eyes are shut, eyelids twitching as she dreams, wearing a pair of silky pink pyjamas and fluffy slippers to match. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest, with her beloved Bombo pressed firmly between them. 

 

“I found her sleepwalking,” Susie explains. “What’s wrong?” 

 

Kimi jolts when Susie reaches out for him, and when he looks up to her she seems genuinely perplexed. He pulls Maggie into his room, away from her grasp, and he narrows his eyes at the woman before him. She’s surprised, but is that real surprise? He doesn’t know how good of an actor Susie is. Toto’s pulled the wool over his eyes, she could do the same - she’s just brought an unconscious Maggie to his room after all! Sleepwalking is a convenient cover, but his sister isn’t exactly known for sleepwalking. And sleepwalking in a way that just so happens to mean Susie finds her? He scoffs. 

 

“You are sick,” he snarls, pushing Maggie behind him as he stands back at his full height.

 

He’s far less intimidating than he’d like to be, but at least he and Susie are the same height. At least he doesn’t have to stare up at her whilst he threatens her, unable to yell with his sister standing just behind him. He wants to yell, wants to do a lot more than just yell, but that’s not exactly an option right now. Instead he just faces her, anger simmering just below the surface, and his whole body tenses. If she tries anything, he’ll be ready to counter her. His eyes look around the corridor behind her for ways he can use his webs to stop anything she might try.

 

“Kimi?” She says his name, deceptively soft and sickeningly sweet.

 

“Don’t pretend,” he demands. “I don’t want you to pretend.”

 

His anger is getting the better of him. Maybe it would be more sensible to just let her go, to not raise any questions. This is the kind of behaviour she’ll report back to Toto, the kind of thing that’s going to get him killed prematurely, but right now rage has replaced any semblance of logic in his mind and he has no choice but to confront her.

 

“You did this, didn’t you, eh?” He accuses. “What have you done to Maggie?”

 

“Kimi, nothing,” Susie beseeches him. “I promise. I couldn’t sleep, I thought I might try and get some fresh air and clear my head, and when I left the room I found Maggie wandering on her own. I thought she might have been looking for you, but when I got closer her eyes were shut, fast asleep. You’re not meant to wake a sleepwalker, but I couldn’t wake her anyway,” she explains. 

 

“You expect me to believe that, eh?” He raises an eyebrow, practically spitting his words out at her.

 

Something shifts on Susie’s face.

 

“Kimi, what’s wrong with your mouth?”

 

“Don’t change the subject,” he snarls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“No, Kimi, please,” she insists. 

 

Susie pushes into the room, and Kimi finds that he can’t fight against her. It’s not that he isn’t strong enough, it’s that after a night without sleep after a strenuous race, after everything he’s learned over the past few hours, he has nothing left to give. He can’t resist her gently placing her hands on his shoulders, or her guiding him back into his room. He can’t do anything to stop her when she looks up at the sticky notes on the wall, eyes wide as she takes everything in. He can’t change the fact that her name is still in the centre of it all, or the way that her expression looks almost pained upon realisation.

 

“What is this?” She asks, her eyes still scanning it all.

 

Kimi steps away, taking Maggie and setting her down on the sofa. She’s still fast asleep and showing absolutely no signs of waking, and so he feels as though he can continue this conversation rather than just push Susie away.

 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, eh?” He hums. “I figured it out.”

 

“You figured out that I’m…”

 

“With the Hornet,” he finishes. 

 

She’s seen it all now, and he feels yet another wave of anger flash before his eyes. It’s her, it has to be her. It’s her and she’s wormed her way in here, just like she’s manipulated Toto, like she’s pulled the strings all along! It’s her and he hates her, he’s going to make her pay! Now that she knows, he has to take action. He cannot let her walk away from this, it’s far too risky.

 

“I don’t understand,” she says breathlessly, her hands on her hips as she takes in the web of clues before her. “How would I… Why would I be with the Hornet?”

 

“You’re playing stupid, stop that!” He insists furiously. “You tried to have me killed! You and Toto, you’re working together on this, eh?! You forced him into it!”

 

“Toto? Kimi, what are you talking about?” She asks.

 

The tenderness with which she speaks to him is enraging. The kindness in her eyes as she looks at him, extending her arms towards him as if to try and pull him into a hug only serves to further anger him. He pushes her away, hard enough to make her physically stumble back, and the pained look on her face twists into something else. 

 

Fear.

 

She’s frightened of him.

 

Kimi falters, his eyes widen, and a sob escapes his lips. 

 

She truly, wholeheartedly, does not understand what he’s talking about. She really is no part in any of this. Which leaves him staring the truth in the face once more.

 

Toto is not, and has never been, on his side.

 

Toto does not see him as his son, and he never did.

 

Toto does not love him, and he never did.

 

His legs finally give way beneath him and his knees buckle. He sinks to the ground, putting one arm out to catch himself on the edge of the bed to try and lower himself down slowly as Susie rushes right to his side. She’s equal parts frightened of him as she is a selfless mother figure, and he can feel which part has won out as she pulls him again into his arms. Kimi, this time, does not resist her embrace. In fact he seeks out more contact, more closeness, the reassurance that at least part of his relationship with the Wolff family isn’t a lie. Toto might never have cared for him, but everything that Susie has ever been to him - that is real. She’s been a confidant, a rock, a pseudo-mother and a sporting inspiration, and none of that has changed. 

 

And it all comes gushing out once again. The truth. What happened to him, what he’s done all year, the things that her husband has done to support him. At least, what he thought was supporting him. He knows now that it was anything but support, and he reveals as much to Susie piece by piece. Every word he says starves him of a little more oxygen, breaks his heart into smaller chunks as he tries to rationalise and comprehend how any of it can be real.

 

“I saw him with Sebastian and Nico,” he confesses to her, his voice barely more than a whisper as he begins to reach the end of his tale. “He told them he would threaten Jack if you did not do what he said,” he sniffles, feeling her grip tighten around him. “He’s going to kill me.” 

 

It comes as no surprise to Kimi that Susie is utterly silent. He’s still reeling from the truth, there’s no real way that Susie can process the betrayal of her husband on top of everything else that she’s just heard. But now that it’s done, all out in the open for yet another person to understand, he feels lighter. It’s enough for his tears to fade. They don’t stop, but he can blink enough to see that light is starting to creep in through the gap in the curtains. The ordeal has taken all night, and he is mentally and physically exhausted to a degree he’s not sure he’ll ever recover from.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, voice cracking traitorously when he speaks.

 

Susie doesn’t reply for a moment, and when she does it’s the answer that Kimi expects.

 

“I’m not sure that I know either.”

 

And in a strange way, the solidarity between them makes him laugh. Neither of them know what to do, both of them have been betrayed by the same man, and now they’re alone in a hotel room in Vegas together. He wonders if Toto has come back from his dinner or if he went to party with the team, if he realises that his wife is missing. He wonders if he cares, or if he just thinks that’s one less thing to think about. 

 

He sits with her in silence for some time, though he’s not quite sure how long that time is. Long enough that he’s stopped crying, not so long that Maggie has woken up from her sleep. Long enough that there’s another knock on the door, not so long that his phone is ringing incessantly suggesting he’s about to miss his flight to Qatar.

 

Susie stands up first, offering a hand to Kimi (which he gladly takes) and he takes a deep breath before he starts to walk towards the door. Before he can get very far, Susie stops him, and she cups his cheeks delicately to wipe away the wet tear tracks that give away the depth of the grief he’s been caught up in. He smiles weakly, nodding a quiet thanks to her before he goes to the door to attend to whoever has arrived. 

 

When he opens the door, Sergi’s frame is entirely expected, and Kimi makes no effort at all to hide how he’s feeling for long. The dullness returns to his eyes, the pain to his expression, and the fatigue to his body. His trainer invites himself in, regarding Susie with a raised eyebrow. The sticky notes in the background certainly make the situation look more awkward than it is - which is hugely impressive given the actuality of it all - but luckily for Kimi, she does all the talking.

 

“He told me everything already,” she assures Sergi, dabbing at her own eyes. 

 

“And everyone is crying because of that?” Sergi asks the room, putting his bag to one side. “It feels like there’s something more pressing to discuss.”

“It’s not her, Sergi,” Kimi whispers, looking up at him. “It’s Toto.” 

 

There’s a strange lack of emotion in his voice when he says it this time, but then he’s more or less run out of tears. He’s done nothing but cry for hours, he needs a drink if he’s going to do that any more.

 

“What?”

 

“It makes so much more sense,” he admits. “It’s him. It’s always been him. Everything. The delays with my gear, my suit breaking on Friday, it’s all Toto.” 

 

Sergi steps back, pressing his hips against the desk in the room and leaning back as he exhales. For the second time in the space of a few hours, Kimi finds that he’s no longer the most emotionally charged person in the room. 

 

“You’re sure about it?” Sergi asks, and Kimi has no choice but to nod.

 

“I followed him to a restaurant after the race. He was having dinner with them. They were talking about their weapons, about killing me, about threatening Susie.”

 

His voice now is monotone, reciting the facts of the situation like he’s giving a rehearsed presentation to his class at school. It’s an odd way to think about it, but it makes him chuckle softly. He’s not thought about his old classmates in far too long - too distracted by his dual occupation of superhero and Formula 1 driver. He should reach out to them, be a better friend, arrange to go out for dinner once the season is over and he’s back in Bologna. He wants to hear what it’s like to be a normal person, to have a normal life. He wants to know what they’ve been doing at university, or how their jobs are going. He wants to hear about the gossip of couples that have broken up and who’s already having a baby. He wants to do normal things that people his age do, with people that are wholly unrelated to the fucked up parts of his life.

 

But there’s only so long before he’s dead, and he realises that it might be difficult to schedule a dinner if there’s an above average chance that he’ll be six feet under before he gets a chance to see the reservations through. 

 

“So, not Susie then?” Sergi repeats, as if he’s going through the same process Kimi did - the same desperation for it not to be Toto that he’ll cling to the Susie theory until it’s dead in the water.

 

“Not me,” Susie assures him. 

 

“What do we do now, eh?” Kimi asks, wrapping his arms around his torso.

 

He’s gradually starting to feel more like himself - at least to the point where he’s capable of holding a conversation and thinking about things in a controlled manner - and that means he can start trying to piece together where they go from here. Because if nothing can happen to him until the season ends, then he knows they have a two week window to prepare.

 

“We figure out who’s on our side,” Sergi suggests, taking his phone out of his pocket. “If you trust Susie, then I will too. I trust Esteban, Pedro, Doriane, and Ollie. I got them on our side, so I feel as though they’re faithful.”

 

Kimi nods, and there’s only one name missing from that list. It makes his heart sink. 

 

“You don’t think?”

 

“We can ask him,” Sergi says. 

 

Kimi isn’t sure that’s necessarily the best way to go about things. If Bono is on Toto’s side, then why would he tell them the truth? Surely he’d just lie, disappear, and rat them out to Toto. But to counter that, they need answers quickly. A blunt question about Bono’s allegiance is probably the fastest way to determine whether or not he’s on their side, and with a limited amount of time to figure out a way forward they need to move as quickly as possible. If they can leave Vegas with a clear understanding of who they can trust, and what they need to do next, it’s the best they can hope for.

 

It doesn’t take long at all for another knock to indicate the arrival of their next companion, the time between Sergi’s text and the knock being used to remove the sticky notes from the wall. Kimi doesn’t dare throw them away just yet, and he hands his wad to Sergi as he walks straight for the door. He likes to think that he can trust his race engineer, that there’s been too many instances this season where he’s shown true care for him and concern for his wellbeing for him to be a turncoat, but it’s not something they can presume. Nothing can be taken for granted anymore, not now they know the truth about Toto. So when he opens the door, Kimi finds himself looking Bono up and down, trying to search for any hint of betrayal.

 

But finding betrayal in a man is difficult when he’s wearing blue and white striped pyjamas, with matching slippers to boot.

 

“Sergi told me there’s a problem,” Bono explains. “An emergency. I came as quickly as I could.”

 

Well, if nothing else, Kimi can ascertain that Sergi and Bono weren’t busy with an Elvis impersonator last night.

 

“Come in,” Kimi says softly, standing aside to allow his engineer to join him.

 

He’s not sure how Maggie is still asleep with all the opening and closing of the door, all the appearances of his friends. It doesn’t look like a disturbed sleep - it’s not as though she’s having any nightmares. He watches her for a few seconds after he closes the door and she still doesn’t stir, but the gentle rise and fall of her chest is enough for him to accept the situation for what it is before he turns his attention to the grown ups in the room.

 

God. He’s only nineteen. He gets what Sergi meant in Texas now. 

 

“Tell him,” Sergi instructs Kimi. “Tell him exactly what you told me.”

And then all eyes are on Kimi. Susie is sitting on the end of the bed, Sergi standing with his hands on his hips between the bed and the bathroom, and Bono confused by what’s unfolding around him. Kimi gulps audibly before he starts.

 

“Toto was having dinner with Sebastian and Nico,” he explains, his voice still devoid of emotion as he tries to keep his tone level. “They’re together.” 

 

In an instant, the doubts surrounding Bono’s loyalties are lifted. His face is animated - far more animated than Kimi has ever seen it - and he can physically see the shockwave the revelation sends through him. Bono takes a step back, raising one hand to the opposite arm to pinch his bicep - as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. His expression quickly turns to one of overwhelming concern as he tries to calculate the solutions on the spot. Once a race engineer, always a race engineer. 

 

“It was definitely him?” He asks.

 

Kimi nods. 

 

“I followed him from the garage, there was no mistake. It was Toto.”

 

“Alright,” Bono says slowly.

 

Kimi glances at Sergi, who nods his head, and he nods right back. The silent conversation is, thankfully, an easy one. They both trust Bono, something that Kimi is desperately relieved to be able to say. But that’s the easy part done with, things get a significant amount more difficult from here. 

 

“So, what next?” Bono asks - as if he thinks they might already have a plan.

 

He looks between the room, first at Kimi and then at Sergi, and Kimi opts to do the same. If everyone looks at Sergi, then the onus is on him to form a plan. Sergi’s well rested, he’s not having to navigate the complex emotions that come from a betrayal of this scale, he’s the only one here that can come up with a plan that’s both achievable and sensible.

 

“Someone needs to go back to the factory before Qatar,” he suggests, quite clearly thinking on the fly. “People are assigned to this project, so they have to have made something. Whether they’ve made it for the Hornet, or they’ve made it for Kimi and it’s just never been handed over. If we can get our hands on it and get it to Qatar without Toto realising, we can see what we’re working with. Then we can figure out what to do next - whether we fight, or we hide.”

 

“We can’t hide,” Kimi says matter-of-factly. “They have nuclear weapons, if we don’t fight them now then they’re just going to get stronger, eh? And this might be the last opportunity I have to fight them!”

 

“We’re not going to fight if it’s going to kill you, mate,” Bono scoffs.

 

“We made a deal, Kimi,” Sergi reminds him firmly. “We keep you safe.”

 

Kimi stares at Sergi, trying to convince his resolve to break as quickly as possible, but he finds that he’s not that lucky. Clearly, Sergi would like Kimi to remain alive. In an ideal world, Kimi would quite like that to happen too. But if he’s learned anything in the last few hours, it’s that he does not have the luxury of living in an ideal world, and compromises will have to be made somewhere along the way. If that compromise is his life? Well, then maybe he’ll just need to make sure his sacrifice is worth it.

 

“I’ll go to the factory,” Bono offers. “No one will be that surprised to see me. My flight has a layover in London, I just need to reschedule the connection.”

 

“I can’t leave Toto without him asking questions,” Susie acknowledges. “But if he says anything I think you need to know, I’ll tell you. He has no idea that I know any of this.”

 

“Good,” Kimi says. “Keep it that way, eh? If he suspects you know…”

 

“I don’t want to think about what he’d do either,” she admits.

 

“What about the others?” Kimi asks, looking back to Sergi. “Should we tell them?”

 

“I don’t think so. The more people know the truth, the riskier things become. Someone might say something accidentally. As long as Toto doesn’t know that we know he’s in charge, we have the upper hand.”

 

Kimi nods his head, glancing to the rest of the room. Everyone else seems to be equally in agreement with the plan as it is.

 

“We’ll talk again in Qatar,” Kimi says decidedly. “And we’ll make a plan from there.”

 

With an agreement reached, the room quickly empties. Susie returns to her husband, Bono to his flight rescheduling, and Sergi to fetching Kimi’s breakfast for him. It’s only when Kimi’s alone again that he thinks of something else, something that he really wishes hadn’t crossed his mind.

 

He finds his bag, left by the door, and he crouches down to open up the front pocket. It doesn’t take him long at all to fish out what he’s looking for - the cold, metal body of Pedro in idle mode.

 

His heart sinks like a stone as he looks at his beloved robot friend. Spying on Toto was against his programming, and he has no choice but to wonder just how much more is programmed into him. Has he been feeding information back to Toto ever since he was created? He’s kept him alive, yes, but that’s almost certainly one of his orders. Despite the fact that Pedro is entirely artificial, that every part of him has been created to Toto’s exact instructions, he feels another wave of loss crash over him as he looks at the little android in his hands. Idle, sleeping, but could he still be a threat? Could he still know what’s happening around him? Kimi can’t put it past him, he can’t take a risk like that.

 

The only option is clear - he needs to destroy him.

 

But he finds that, unlike in Hungary, he’s entirely too endeared to the little robot to be able to do such a cruel thing. Maybe he can figure out a way to override his programming - he’s got two weeks, he can learn how to code in two weeks! - or maybe he can find someone that already knows something about that. 

 

Pedro might be Toto’s creation, but he’s also Kimi’s friend. Pedro is not inherently evil, he’s simply following instructions, just as Kimi did when he was under the influence of the serum. And Pedro was in Monza, with the rest of the team, just as much a part of saving him as Sergi, Doriane, Esteban and Pedro the human were. 

 

“Non ti deluderò, amici,” he mutters, putting the little robot back into the bag for safe keeping. 

 

And just in time, too, because the moment he zips the pocket closed he hears something moving behind him. Maggie, finally stirring from her sleep, stretching and yawning and looking around altogether confused as to how she’s ended up on the sofa in her brother’s room. Kimi looks at her with a gentle smile, walking over to her like nothing else has happened since he last saw her.

 

“Good morning, Maggie,” he says gently. 

 

Her face scrunches up as though she’s bitten into a lemon, and she pushes herself to her feet. She’s barely awake for a minute before she’s running out of the room, the door closing behind her with a slam, and Kimi sits back down on the sofa dejected.

 

Forget the rest of the world. He has to fight in Abu Dhabi for her. 

 

+ + +

 

Doha, Qatar
Monday 24 November 2025

 

Kimi is perhaps the only driver who arrives in Qatar feeling even somewhat refreshed. For most, a night of partying in Vegas followed by eighteen gruelling hours in the air, only to arrive eleven hours ahead of where they started, is a recipe for a nightmare combination of a hangover and jet lag. For him, he’s spent most of those eighteen hours sleeping. It’s certainly not a sleep that’s comparable to his own bed, or any bed at all for that matter, but after rising through the junior ranks of motorsport he’s found himself accustomed to sleeping anywhere and everywhere if he’s tired enough.

 

And after the realisations that came to him in Vegas, he was more than tired enough.

 

In a roundabout way, he almost wants to thank Toto for what he did. If he’d slept, he’d feel awful right now. Instead he feels awake, alert, and determined to begin preparing in earnest for next weekend. Which, ironically enough, just means he’s planning on exhausting himself all over again by spending more time than he should in the gym.

 

Kimi, like every driver on the grid, has a schedule he’s meant to follow when it comes to training. Sergi is strict with making sure he runs, cycles, and swims enough to keep his stamina to a level where he can drive for two hours. His weight training is just as intense, and it needs to be to ensure that his body can handle the g-forces thrown at it, to know that he can turn the wheel of his car despite the pressure being applied at high speeds. This week, the problem isn’t going to be getting Kimi to do his exercises - it’s going to be trying to stop him.

 

He’s already been in the gym for several hours, alone, and he’s run the equivalent of a half marathon in that time before he’s turned to a bike. His body is used to being pushed beyond its limits, and with his ribs still bruised from his altercation with the big ‘bee’ in the casino he’s already far beyond where he’d normally push himself, but he needs to be ready for anything in Abu Dhabi. And anything means, quite literally, anything. If he’s going to save the world, he has to be able to keep going for far longer than just a race. He might have to jump out of the car and fight, or maybe he’ll have a moment to rest so the adrenaline leaves his body and he’s left exposed to the weaknesses of a lethargic body. He isn’t sure which is worse, so he just needs to keep pushing himself and hope that whatever is thrown his way, he can overcome it.

 

But right now, his body aches. He’s tired. Everything feels a little bit too much and yet he knows he cannot stop. He’s on a bike now, with his eyes closed so he can pretend that he’s cycling alongside Ollie in the Italian Alps rather than in a clinical gym in the middle of a desert, alone, afraid, and preparing to face almost impossible odds. Instead he pictures the wind rushing through his hair, the sunlight dappling through birch trees with leaves turning a beautiful golden brown, the sound of Ollie’s laughter as they race towards the next little mountain town where they’ll spend the night in a pub eating a hearty meal and sharing drinks. Then they’ll spend the night together, safe in their own little bubble, and they’ll wake up a tangled and sweaty mess of limbs. They’ll shower - not together, nothing productive would get done if that happened - and they’ll have breakfast, and then they’ll be cycling again. It would be bliss, a peaceful, fulfilling experience. Maybe, if Kimi somehow makes it through this alive, he’ll suggest a trip like that. Maybe having something to look forward to with Ollie will be enough that he pulls through any injuries he sustains and manages to see another sunrise. Maybe the promise of forever by Ollie’s side will be enough to win.

 

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening, and he looks up to find that he’s no longer alone in the hotel gym. Kimi bows his head just as quickly as he raised it, not particularly in the mood to be making small talk. But he doesn’t get to escape it this time, not when his teammate is approaching him with a wave and gesturing for him to take his headphones off. 

 

So he does, because as much as he’s going to be dead in less than two weeks he still owes it to George to be a good teammate for that time. He smiles politely, still pedalling, but much more slowly now.

 

“Hey mate,” George grins at him, not at all picking up the tension in the atmosphere. “Got a head start on your programme huh?”

 

Their schedules for the week are similar. Both Aleix and Sergi have them down to be in the hotel gym at the same time. The timetables were made weeks ago, with their trainers suggesting a bit of healthy competition would spur the two of them on. Kimi’s got a feeling that if Sergi were asked now, he’d probably insist that Kimi have his own space and own time to workout. But they’re here now, and Sergi will probably be having some harsh words with him if he finds out how long he’s already been at the gym.

 

“Yeah, I mean, I slept on the plane. I wasn’t so tired when we got here, eh,” he explains. “I didn’t just want to sit around and do nothing. But we won’t tell Sergi, no?”

 

Telling Sergi seems like a bit of a pointless exercise anyway. Kimi’s body is slick with sweat, his forehead glistening and his shirt covered in wet patches. Sergi doesn’t need to be told anything, Sergi will see right through him - as he often does. But, in Kimi’s defence, what’s he going to do about it? Scold him? He’s going to be dead in two weeks, what do a few stern words mean to him now?

 

Besides, maybe if he trains hard enough, he can save Toto. 

 

It’s a delusional thought, one that came to him twelve kilometres into his time on the treadmill, but it’s one that he’s clung to ever since. Because maybe he can save Toto! Maybe his theory still isn’t quite correct, and Toto isn’t the one in charge. Maybe he got it all wrong, and Sebastian is the one that’s masterminded it all, and Toto is the one under the serum. It makes sense - perfect sense! Sebastian needed resources, and the easiest way to get those resources was to manipulate someone like Toto into doing exactly what he wanted. So if he trains hard enough, if he figures out a good enough plan, then he can take the fight to the Hornet and the Wasp, he can incapacitate Toto, and he can find the antidote to bring him back to himself. 

 

There isn’t a single flaw in his plan.

 

“Hey, Kimi, look,” George says softly.

 

Kimi looks around the room, even though he knows that isn’t exactly what George means. Aleix is on the other side - getting set up for George’s session - and Sergi isn’t here yet. They have a bit of privacy at the very least.

 

“I just wanted to say that you had a great race in Vegas.”

 

Kimi straightens, stopping his pedalling, tapping his fingers against the handles of the bike. He’s gotten used to the occasional metal tap, though it still reminds him of much worse times. 

 

“Thanks,” he says, eyeing his teammate suspiciously.

 

“You just seemed upset on the flight over, I figured it was the race. I mean, Charles crashing in Quali kind of fucked you over, didn’t it? You deserved to be on the podium. You should’ve been on the podium.”

 

The race in Las Vegas seems like a world away. He can barely remember what it felt like to drive the track now. What happened after the race was the kind of life defining moment when everything is suddenly redetermined as before or after. And everything that happened before is hazy at best. What he needs to do, though, is agree. If he dares to suggest that the race isn’t the reason he’s upset, and George continues to cling to the fact that he is, indeed, upset, then he’s going to be pushed into revealing information that he doesn’t want to share just yet. George has been nothing but kind, forging a friendship even though Kimi’s lied to him over and over again. 

 

If he dies in Abu Dhabi, he wonders what George will think about it all? Will he be angry that he deceived him for so long? Or will he be saddened by the fact that he kept the truth from him? 

 

“You’re doing amazing, mate,” George reassures him. “I’ve got no clue why Toto hasn’t announced your extension yet.”

 

Kimi winces, but George doesn’t notice.

 

“You’ve won a race, you’ve won a Sprint, you’ve been on the podium six times! We’re leading the Constructors’ Championship, for Christ sake! We wouldn’t have been half as successful this year without you. And even if you got fucked over in Qualifying, you still came back and scored enough points to grow our lead over McLaren. I hope it’s just some technicality, that he’s just trying to figure out how much he should pay you after you’ve done so much for the team.”

 

George’s words made Kimi want to be honest, but he knows damn well that isn’t an option. Telling Susie at the weekend was a dangerous, impromptu decision that could’ve backfired. If she really was involved, and just brilliant at deceiving him, then he’d have been in a world of trouble. If Toto’s been controlled by the serum because of the resources that he can repurpose, then there’s every chance that George is under control too. Maybe he’s been conditioned to do this. Or maybe Toto’s just asked him to do it, to get information that can be used against him, and George has no idea of the ramifications of the odd request he’s been presented with.

 

He can’t tell George the truth.

 

“Yeah,” he says slowly, nodding his head. “Thanks, George.”

 

George buys it. He pats Kimi’s shoulder affectionately and offers him a sympathetic smile.

 

“You’ll go great this weekend, mate,” he encourages. “Don’t let this get you down.”

 

As soon as George walks away, back to his trainer, he finds himself wincing. He removes his right arm from the bike and rubs his shoulder softly. And as he does, the hem of his shirt sleeve rises just enough to show the ever lowering darkness on his arm. He looks at it uncomfortably, tugging his clothing back down to hide it. It’s spreading dangerously close to his hand now, and he knows when that happens it’s going to be a lot more difficult to hide. He can only hope that he’ll find a way to keep it hidden long enough to make it to the end of the season. After Abu Dhabi, he gets the feeling that nothing will matter anymore.

 

Sergi shows up not too much after George and Aleix, and Kimi feels himself on the receiving end of a disapproving gaze. He doesn’t make any argument against the gaze - it is thoroughly deserved after all - and with George in the room he also can’t make an argument against Sergi deliberately putting less weights on his lifts than usual. Kimi will just have to make up for it later in the week, next time he can sneak down and work out without his trainer figuring out what he’s doing.

 

The effort he put in earlier, though, is more than enough that he still feels sore and broken by the end of it all. He should probably thank Sergi for going easy on him, but right now he’s still focused on the possibility of finding a way to save Toto. The fact that he can still walk back to his hotel room - even if his legs are like jelly and his chest feels like it’s been crushed under the weight of a hundred ginormous rocks - feels like he’s failed.

 

He collapses onto his bed, his mind and body turning to mush the moment his head hits the pillow. He doesn’t bother to change, doesn’t bother to tuck himself under the blankets, he just falls asleep where he is. If he’s lucky, he might be able to dream up a solution.

 

+ + +

 

Lusail, Qatar
Thursday 27 November 2025

 

In the days between arriving in Qatar and descending on the circuit, Kimi has done little more than sleep and train. His mind has been occupied during every waking hour, trying to plug the holes in the theory that Toto’s under Sebastian’s control, but thus far he’s only come up with more flaws in the theory. And now it’s the penultimate media day of the season, and Kimi feels as though he may have exhausted every option. It’s getting closer and closer to the point where he’s going to have to admit that, perhaps, Toto is not under control of the serum. Perhaps Toto hasn’t been forced into this situation at all. Perhaps he’s there of his own free will. 

 

He’s still trying to escape the inevitable acceptance of that fact, even if he’s reached the conclusion several times over the past few days - however he tries to look at the situation - and for now that means he’s distracting himself by writing.

 

Kimi’s deep in the notes app of his phone when he feels Rosa place a hand on his shoulder and he jumps, startled by her gentle presence, before she indicates that it’s time to head into the press conference. He does just that, wincing at the fact that he’s accompanied by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. They’re drivers with some of the longest contracts in the sport, and he doesn’t have a renewal yet. And despite Max’s long contract, he’s also the one that’s rumoured to be replacing him if Mercedes don’t lock him down soon. It’s a dreadful situation to be in, particularly when the truth is far, far worse than anything the journalists could come up with themselves, but all he has to do is stick to his script.

 

His contract is being negotiated between his management team and Mercedes. He’s been given all the reassurances that he needs and isn’t worried about his future at all. Mercedes are committed to him, and he is committed to Mercedes. They’re waiting until the results at the end of the season to understand what different contract clauses are going to look like, that’s all.

 

He’d much rather take the microphone, press it to his lips, and declare to the world that Toto has signed off on his death warrant. He wants to tell them all that Toto is working with the Hornet and the Wasp, that he’s the Silver Spider, and that everyone is in awful danger. But people know they’re in danger, and the subject of identities has taken a back seat when the attacks are only becoming more and more devastating. Figuring out who the masked killers and the vigilante hero are is of far less concern than trying to apprehend them before something else awful happens. Besides, Rosa and the Mercedes PR team might not take kindly to such an unsanctioned statement.

 

So Kimi does what he knows he needs to do, and once he’s repeated the same answer three times in a slightly different way the journalists move on to Max and Charles. He’s able to zone out and think about what else he needs to add to his notes app as soon as he’s free. He’s already checked off a few names: his parents, his sister, Ollie, Bono. He started on Sergi, but it feels a little more difficult than the rest. 

 

The moment he’s dismissed, he’s on his feet and walking away. He tugs at the sleeve of his shirt to cover the heel of his palm as he walks, just in case any cameras snap an unfortunate photograph of him, and he lets relief wash over him. Removing the pressure of every word and movement being recorded and published online, to be analysed by millions of people, is nothing short of a blessing. It’s a weight off his shoulders - something he’s gradually becoming more and more desperate for - but just as much it’s a distraction that’s been taken away. Being hyper-aware of everything from his breathing to his tone at least provides a momentary respite to thinking about the Hornet, about the huge mechanical ‘bee’, about how angry Toto sounded in the restaurant.

 

No. He isn’t going to think about Toto. He refuses to give him the satisfaction of invading his thoughts. There’s nothing to be done about it right now, so he just needs to forget.

 

He emerges out of the press conference and steps back out into the warm November sun. It would be nice if he could take off his shirt and lie under its rays without a care, but walking around with his torso exposed is something he can’t do anymore. It’s just another little way that his life has changed in the last twelve months. The last time he was in Qatar it was his final Formula 2 race - not that he knew it at the time. He didn’t finish either race. It feels like a strange omen for how the next few weeks are going to go. 

 

Hopefully whatever God has decided to take out their anger on him through seemingly endless misfortune will at least allow him the small mercy of being able to finish the last three races of his rookie season. 

 

It doesn’t take long to slip away from Max and Charles - who as always are enamoured with each other (and, in turn, whose social media teams are enamoured with them). He slips his phone out of his pocket, intent on reopening his notes app to continue what he’s begun, but as he walks alongside Rosa he finds that his schedule might be about to change. He’s got a text from Bono.

 

“Ah, it’s Bono,” he explains to her with a smile, placing one hand on her shoulder by way of apology. “I have to go. I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

 

Kimi doesn’t give her any time to ask questions - like why is he going to see Bono, or when is he going to be back - he just dashes quickly across the paddock. The meeting location he’s been given isn’t at the track itself, it’s back in Doha, so he jogs from the circuit - squeezing through the barriers rather than wasting a few precious seconds on taking his pass out of his pocket and scanning his way out conventionally - and flags down the first car he can see to make it back into the city as quickly as he can.

 

The traffic on a Thursday afternoon is far easier to navigate than it will be for the rest of the weekend, but the fact that he’s leaving the track rather than trying to get to it helps as well. It doesn’t take long at all to make it from the desert track to the city centre, even if it feels like he’s lived a lifetime with his head in his phone. When he’s dropped off outside the hotel he thanks the driver (and tips him handsomely, since there’s really no point in holding onto his money anymore), before following the instructions Bono has texted him. He ascends in the elevator to the eighth floor, then follows the apparently endless corridors to find the room number he’s been given. 

 

Within forty five minutes of escaping the press conference he’s knocking his fist three times against the door, his mind drifting away with curiosity. Has anyone ever stayed in the rooms closest to the elevator, or do hotels just put them up for show? He feels as if he’s always got to trek for several minutes through the maze of dull lit, off-white walled, red carpeted corridors to make it to his room - or anyone else’s for that matter.

 

The door opens after a few short moments, before Kimi can really start to think too hard about hotels, and Kimi steps inside. Bono’s suit is nice - better than his, unsurprisingly - and Kimi lets himself look around. Despite the fact that the room is bigger, with a little sitting area and a more comfortable bed, almost everything else is the same. The simple canvas print of sunflowers that he’s seen in the twenty three different rooms he’s stayed in, the same lights that he’s turned off and on several hundred times… Really, the only thing that confirms that he’s not in Miami, or Imola, or Japan, is the plug sockets.

 

“Hello, mate,” Bono says once the door clicks shut behind Kimi.

 

He nods his head in acknowledgement, raising one arm to wave his hand towards Sergi. His sleeve sags as he does, and he finds that the darkness on his arm has been exposed. At least his trainer and engineer are well versed in everything that’s happened to him, enough that they don’t bat an eyelid at what would frighten most.

 

Kimi doesn’t know what’s going to happen now. The text was instructional, but gave no indication of whether he’d be receiving good news or bad news. With how things have gone since Monza, he’s almost certain that it’ll be bad. In fact, he’d bet whatever is in his bank account on it being bad news. He doesn’t see the point in sitting down properly, so he just folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the desk as he looks back and forth between Sergi and Bono. 

 

And Bono is the one that breaks the silence.

 

“Mate, you’re never gonna guess what I found back at base,” he declares, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

 

Kimi doesn’t dare let himself hope. To let himself hope would be stupid. The odds are overwhelmingly awful, he’s standing in the shadow of immovable darkness, there is surely nothing that could be good enough that hope will do anything but backfire on him.

 

“What did you find?” Sergi asks, filling the silence that was meant for Kimi.

 

It gives Bono the impetus to surge forward, a real pep in his step as he moves towards the wardrobe in his room. His engineer takes the door handles and looks back to Kimi, wiggling his eyebrows with a dramatic flourish before flinging the doors wide open. It means that Kimi has to move from the desk to look inside, which he does reluctantly, but when he’s moved enough to see… His eyes widen. 

 

Perhaps there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Before him is a suit. But it isn’t like the skin tight number he’s been wearing for a few months now, where the protection is thin and lightweight - or dense and sabotaged. No, this suit is properly tough, with a metal plated exterior that he can only assume will work wonders against whatever the Hornet can throw at him: his Swarm, his pincers, radioactive ‘bees’. The colouring has shifted again, leaning much more heavily on the silver colours that make his name, but now the spidery details and accents are in teal. Kimi glances at Bono, as if to seek his permission, before he reaches out and lets his fingers brush over the cold metal.

 

A chill runs down his spine, and he feels something deep in his chest that he can’t quite put a name to. 

 

“Well, not too shabby, is it?” Bono asks with a slight chuckle.

 

Kimi tilts his head to look at it from another angle, watching as his reflection is morphed by the curves of the metal. It shines under the lights of the hotel room, threatening to dazzle him. For what it’s worth, he can’t take his eyes off it.

 

“Can I try it on?” He asks curiously.

 

He just about catches Bono nodding out of the corner of his eye, and he steps closer to examine how the suit actually works. The fact that it isn’t a replica of his old suit means that he doesn’t just strip down to his underwear and pull it over himself, instead he’s directed by Bono to a small button on the side. Kimi presses it, and he watches as various pieces of the suit move on hinges and open up to reveal a far more comfortable interior than he’s used to.

 

Gone are the days of skin tight fabric that becomes slick with sweat, where nanotechnology has been built into the garment to protect him but not offer much in the way of comfort. The inside of the suit comes with a comfortable cushioning that will serve to better protect him from any blows he might sustain. He steps forward, turning around and moving backwards into the suit itself before it closes around him. 

 

It’s a perfect fit, the cushioning moulded to his body, yet he finds that he doesn’t feel even remotely claustrophobic. He would certainly benefit from still undressing - the mould leaves him acutely aware of his belt buckle against his hips and his bunch up t-shirt against his chest - but it works well enough for now. 

 

Kimi moves slowly, getting used to the size, shape, feel and weight of his new gear. There’s a little more heft about it, but it feels much like power assisted steering. Whenever he tries to move, the suit moves with him, and he grins from ear to ear inside it. This is the sort of thing he can let himself hope about. This is something that makes him feel like he’s got a chance. 

 

He turns his arms and wiggles his fingers, stretches his legs and moves his head from side to side. Everything just feels natural, like the suit is an extension of himself, and he goes to test what powers he still has at his disposal next. First and foremost, that means testing out his web. Part of the suit is tighter at his wrists, and when he tries to shoot out his web he finds that it releases with far more speed than before. It startles him, not at all expecting that extra sort of power, but he likes it. Anything that can make him faster is good in his book. But, as with all things, it’s not just about how quickly you can finish - it’s about how you finish. So, naturally, the next thing he needs to test is the accuracy of his web.

 

He raises his hand and aims at Bono’s face, snatching his glasses from the tip of his nose far too quickly for him to react. Sergi guffaws, and Bono looks at him with an expression that says he wants to be angry - but instead he’s just amused. Endeared. And that makes Kimi laugh.

 

God, it feels good to laugh.

 

“Alright, lad,” he chuckles affectionately. 

 

“This is amazing!” He admits, shooting his web again to see if he can place the glasses back on Bono’s face.

 

Somehow, he does.

 

This, really, is the best thing that’s happened to Kimi in a long time. Since Ollie said they were boyfriends, probably. Everything has been so awful as of late that there’s little else he can identify as a good thing. Maybe the cake he shared with Doriane in Singapore - that was nice. But thinking about Doriane creates a pain in his chest, and so he tries to push her away and focus his attention back in the room.

 

“There’s some new features, so I’ve been told. I think the team gave me a manual…”

 

“Ah, mate, reading is for nerds and engineers!” Kimi scoffs. “I can figure this out.”

 

Kimi stares at the information displays in front of him, far more organised and informative than before. There’s menus and options in front of him, and he tries several times to figure out how he’s meant to access them. First, by looking with his eyes, but that does nothing. Then, by whispering softly which menu he’d like to open. And finally, he raises his hands in front of his face, ‘pressing’ thin air and activating the menu in front of him. He smirks, proud that he has indeed figured things out, and he glances over all the options that are presented to him. The more he investigates, the more there seems to be, to the point that he can use his index finger to scroll. He decides he’s just going to pick the button that looks the most interesting, the one that calls to him the most. As soon as he does that, he feels himself shoot up off the ground and hit his head on the ceiling.

 

He yelps, falling back down onto the floor and landing with a thud on his arse. A quick look up confirms that there’s now a slight dent left behind, and also that Bono is laughing far harder than he should be. Isn’t he concerned? He could be injured!

 

“Reading is for nerds and engineers, eh lad?” He teases. “If you’d read the manual, you would’ve known that button activated your boosters - for better jumping.”

“Oh, mate, this is so cool,” Kimi laughs, because Bono can’t see the way that his cheeks are now tickled pink from his embarrassment. 

 

“There’s more in here too. A shield, a new crossbow, and everything comes with tracking built in. If you lose it, your suit can find it for you again.”

 

“All of it? Ah, how much is there exactly?” 

 

He turns around when Bono gestures behind him, looking in the wardrobe again and this time looking down. Without the suit to be enamoured with, he can see the crossbow and shield sitting at the bottom. He picks up the shield first, and thanks the team at Brackley that have used the same materials for his gear as they do for the car. It’s solid, and strong, but lightweight and easy to manoeuvre. 

 

Picking up the crossbow is slightly more challenging. The last time he held a weapon like this it was pointed at the back of Charles Leclerc’s head, and he finds that he doesn’t want to dwell on the past too much. Noticing his reluctance, Bono leans down and picks up the weapon to hand it to Kimi directly. He does take it, but slowly, looking over the weapon with equal parts curiosity and apprehension. 

 

“Some arrows to go with it,” Bono notes. “The same kind that were used in Monza. They’ll explode a few seconds after they’re fired, so don’t go waving that thing around and accidentally discharging it.” 

 

Kimi nods his head understandingly, looking down at his suit and finding a spot to clip the crossbow to. He lets the arrows remain on the ground for now, just to be on the safe side. And with that, he can return his focus to the shield. It’s circular, with a slight convex to it, a nice grippy handle and a beautiful cobweb design in teal and black on the front. The team hasn’t just given him good gear, but beautifully crafted and lovingly detailed gear. It gives him hope that maybe Toto’s the only one in on it all. The team - the rest of Mercedes - really do love him as much as his PR team want to emphasise in press conferences.

 

“And I can talk to you too,” Bono says.

 

This time, Kimi hears his voice much more loudly, and much more clearly. The speakers in his suit have gotten an upgrade too, and Kimi can see that his engineer has been given a system of his own to talk to him directly. It’s almost like he’s sitting in the cockpit of the W16. The suit is molded to him like his seat is, it’s the same colours as his car, the same material as his car, and he has the same voice in his head. 

 

“I can talk back too, I hope?” He asks cheekily.

 

“Unfortunately,” Bono grins. “And there’s one more surprise. It’s too big to bring up here, but once the weekend is done we can take it for a joyride.”

 

Kimi nods his head, even if curiosity is threatening to get the better of him already. He wants to know what this promised surprise is - surely it’s going to be a damn sight better than Ollie’s fake ID surprise in Las Vegas. But he understands that, logistically, it just isn’t to be. He’ll have to be patient, a trait he doesn’t exercise particularly often, though he’s got a Sprint weekend he needs to focus on. He needs to focus on getting the best results he can - anything less than that might arouse suspicion from Toto that he knows - and on Sunday evening he can find out what more has been made for him. 

 

He steps out of his suit and takes a deep breath, looking back at what he already has and smiling. He’s finally been given what he’s been asking for the whole time: tools and weapons that will make a difference. Finally, there’s reason for optimism going forward. Not a lot, of course - he doesn’t want to get carried away - but it does something to soften the fact that Abu Dhabi is just over a week away now. Even if he’s still terrified that he’s staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, it might be enough to save the world, or even enough to save himself.

 

The sands are shifting in the desert of Qatar, but there’ll be no telling if it’s enough until it’s too late.

 

+ + +

 

Lusail, Qatar
Saturday 29 November 2025

 

If there’s one thing that can keep Kimi’s mind off his ever nearing demise, it’s a race. 

 

If there’s one thing that can make him happy in a time as desperate and as difficult as this, it’s winning a race.

 

And sure, it’s just a Sprint race, but he’s never going to turn down a victory - especially after having to give George a position twice over in Brazil. This time George was stuck behind Oscar, his Championship rival refusing to give up second place, and so Kimi’s not had to sacrifice himself. It feels wonderful, even if the celebrations for a Sprint win aren’t quite as elaborate as those for winning a Grand Prix. 

 

The important thing is that Mercedes and McLaren have scored the same number of points in the Sprint, which means the Constructor’s Championship hasn’t changed at all. Oscar’s narrowed the gap to George by one point, and Kimi’s extended his lead over Lando by three points. It’s all terribly tight, and with two races to go the pressure is well and truly on. Kimi, though, is thriving in such an environment. The time he’s in the car is pretty much the only time he isn’t thinking about the danger looming on the horizon, and that is a relief.

 

When he pulls up in Parc Ferme, Kimi is greeted by the cheers of his team. He takes his time clambering out of the car - George pulling up alongside him and jumping out quickly to ensure he’s the first to congratulate him. He pats his helmet a few times, more or less undoing all of Kimi’s progress in exiting his car as he’s pushed back down into his seat. Kimi laughs, and over the cheers, music, and sounds of camera shutters he can just about make out George telling him he knew he’d bounce back from the misery of Las Vegas.

 

Eventually, he gets out of his car and performs for the cameras. The celebration is small, but still there. He is, after all, in his rookie season, and any win should be treasured. Those points might be crucial for himself or his team come the end of next weekend - not that either of those things will matter to him for too long after the chequered flag falls on Abu Dhabi. He takes his helmet off, keeps his gloves on, and goes to get weighed before celebrating with his team and accepting his plaque.

 

He still has media obligations to fulfil, which of course means he doesn’t get the privilege of tucking himself away between now and Qualifying, but he at least gets a respite long enough to dart into the Mercedes garage and take a few short minutes to himself. 

 

Except it’s not quite to himself, of course. The team are all there, but before they get the cars back and start making small set up tweaks based on the data from the Sprint they’re reaching out to him, patting him on the back and the shoulder, cheering and applauding for him. A wall of his mechanics descends upon him, wrapping around him from all angles as he’s hugged and congratulated. It feels warm, familial, and safe. He shouts over their cheers to thank them for setting up the car, for the work they do tirelessly, all over the world, to enable him to win. The camaraderie between them surges through his veins and for another few moments, he’s happy. In the absence of his family - who he’s uninvited once again in the wake of all that happened in Las Vegas - he still has a home. 

 

And then they’re moving away and there’s a new hand on his shoulder, and everything is falling to pieces.

 

“Not a bad race, Kimi,” Toto chuckles.

 

His dry humour is substantially more irksome than it used to be - enough to make Kimi’s hair stand on its ends - and he stiffens as the hand on his shoulder moves gradually lower. Before he knows it, he’s being pulled into a tight hug and fighting the urge to force Toto away. Toto doesn’t know that he knows the truth, and so he has to pretend, has to play his part. Toto’s still playing his role perfectly, after all. Embracing him with the love and affection of a found father as if he hasn’t signed off on his death certificate. It makes Kimi feel sick as he finds himself pressed firmly against his chest, and he has to pretend that his lungs aren’t being suffocated and his eyes aren’t stinging with tears.

 

If Toto embraced the truth, just as Kimi was being forced to do, then it might not be so bad - it’s the pretending that’s killing him. It’s knowing that the arms around him used to be warm, a place of comfort, and security, and love. Now they’re like vices, holding him too tight, covered with barbed wire that pricks the length of him and makes him bleed. A hand rubs against his shoulder and it feels like a grater forced against his skin. These arms used to be his shelter, but Toto’s ruined that.

 

And finally, it dawns on Kimi. Nothing can change what has happened. Nothing can bring his Toto back. His Toto never existed in the first place. There’s no way to bargain with whatever God might exist, there’s no way he can project Toto’s betrayal onto anyone else, there’s no way to deny it any longer. 

 

Toto is not on his side. He has to prepare to beat him.

 

It weighs heavily on him, even if it feels like a relief to finally admit. So soon after the high of winning a race, the crash of emotion he experiences is far more intense, and combined with the adrenaline leaving his system it’s almost as if he could crumble there and then. 

 

Kimi can’t pull away from the hug until Toto is ready to part with him, but the moment he’s free he throws caution to the wind. To Hell with media obligations, to Hell with interviews and press and photographs, he just needs to get out. He has to get away. He walks out of the garage with haste, and as soon as he can tell that he’s no longer in Toto’s field of vision he lets the tears burning at his eyes start to fall. He can hear footsteps follow him, but they’re footsteps that he recognises and so he lets them come. 

 

His driver room feels further away than it was before the race, but Kimi puts that down to the fact that he’s trying to get there in a hurry. The acceptance of Toto’s allegiance is faster, though, and Kimi’s cheeks are wet long before he makes it back to his room. He manages to keep himself from breaking out into sobs until he’s alone, but he doesn’t have the chance to close the door behind himself before Sergi is stepping over the threshold and looking down at him.

 

A few weeks ago, he might’ve tried to bottle it all up now that someone else was there to witness it, but he does no such thing now. Kimi sinks to the floor and wraps his arms around his legs, resting his forehead on his knees as he splutters on salty tears. Giving up fighting to find some way to excuse Toto’s actions in Las Vegas means facing reality, and that reality is crushing him with every passing second. His sobs are painful, physically as well as emotionally. They drag themselves out of his lungs with every inhale and exhale he makes, though the sound of his sobbing is closer to retching - and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t cry so hard he throws up. He wishes he could scrub the feeling of Toto’s hands on him away, wishes he could box up all of the good memories he has of the man to try and make the betrayal less catastrophic. But such a feat is impossible to accomplish, and he can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever feel like he can trust anyone ever again.

 

When he feels an arm around his shoulder, encouraging him against Sergi’s side rather than leaving him to grieve alone, he knows there’s at least one person he can trust. 

 

Kimi weeps against his trainer, not caring if it makes him seem weak. He feels weak. He feels like he should’ve seen this coming, like he should’ve expected it, but he didn’t. He feels like he should be able to take it in his stride - something he’s done time and time again this year - but this is just one heartbreak too far.

 

Grief like this is something he’s never experienced before. He’s felt sadness, he’s felt a profound sense of loss, he’s felt disappointment and even heartbreak, but never something so all encompassing that his very bones feel hollow and devoid of meaning. The world around him feels unpalatably dark. He’s done so much, he’s tried so hard, and for what? To know he’s marching towards almost inevitable death?

 

A year ago, his whole life was ahead of him. Now there’s a very good chance he’s got eight more days at best.

 

If he dies, who’s going to stop the Hornet from using his nuclear armed Swarm? 

 

If he dies, who’s going to prevent the Hornet and the Wasp from taking power?

 

If he dies, what happens to his family? To Maggie? To Ollie? Forget the rest of the world - he’s given them enough. He’s sacrificed himself, body and mind, for the safety of utter strangers. The people he cares about are the ones that will suffer the most if he fails. Toto will know that he used Bono and Sergi to acquire the suit and gear that had been hidden from him; they'll be punished severely for disobeying direct orders. And he knows about the others that have helped him: Pedro, Esteban, Doriane. He can’t imagine how much they might suffer if he fails. 

 

Maybe he should cut a deal. Kill him, take the world, but leave the people he loves alone. Let them be free. Let them live. Let them continue on without suffering.

 

“You’re okay,” Sergi whispers, his voice finally managing to cut through the dark spiral in his mind.

 

“He’s gonna kill me,” he replies, broken and weak. 

 

“We won’t let him,” Sergi assures, squeezing him tightly. “None of us will. Not me, not Bono, not your friends. 

 

He doesn’t trust the words, not truly, but they still feel like a soft blanket being wrapped around his shoulders. Sergi has known his secret longer than anyone else, and never told a soul until he was in danger. He’s learned how to deal with him, he’s supported him, he’s been a rock when no one else has been. Sergi has listened without judgement, he’s cheered for him during races and stitched him back together after fights. 

 

Kimi knows he’s had ample opportunity to betray him. If he wanted to, he could, but he’s been resolute in his servitude. He’s never given Kimi a reason to question him. Toto shaking his trust so Earth shatteringly is no reason to hold that against the very man that saved him. Sergi was the one who worked over summer break to bring him home. Sergi was the one to tear him away from the Hornet and give him the antidote. Sergi is the only reason he is where he is today.

 

He sighs, sagging against his trainer, letting himself be held without question.

 

“Mate, I’m so scared,” he confesses in a whisper. “The suit, that’s all I have? And the arrows and the shield? How can I beat them? I don’t want to die!” 

 

“You’re not going to die.” 

 

Sergi’s voice is firm, but gentle - the precise balance of tenderness and sternness that he needs right now.

 

“And you have me. You have us.”

 

“I wanna go home,” he sniffles, ignoring Sergi’s words as he tries to catch his breath. “I want mamma. I want her ragu. I want her to hug me and to fix everything, eh? She always fixes everything. She’s my mamma.” 

 

Sergi’s fingers brush against his cheeks, drying his eyes as he slowly begins to regain his composure. Acceptance is, perhaps, the worst stage of grief. He preferred the denial, the bargaining, but he has no time to indulge in such frivolous daydreams anymore. He has a world to save, and to do that he needs a level head. He needs to accept the truth of the matter and find a way to bend the world to his whims. But he doesn’t have to do that today. Today, all he has to do is fulfil his media obligations and qualify like his world isn’t collapsing around him.

 

With Sergi by his side, he can do it. With Sergi by his side, he can do anything. 

 

He just has to hope that next week, with Sergi by his side, he’ll be able to save the world too.

 

+ + +

 

Al Khor and Al Thakhira Municipality, Qatar
Sunday 30 November 2025

 

There are bad races, and there are bad races. This race certainly falls into the latter category, and Kimi is lucky in that he survived this one. Somehow he recovered from a first lap incident and a puncture to finish P5. George was not so lucky. And with McLaren scoring a 1-2, they’ve lost enough points to drop behind them in the Constructor’s Championship. Not only that, but George has dropped behind Oscar in the Driver’s Championship too. With a race still to go, they can recover both titles, but at the end of the season with an intense triple header to finish things off it’s not great for motivation. 

 

Even with his death still a very real possibility, Kimi still wants to win. He still wants to clinch the title for Mercedes, not for Toto, but for everyone else. For Gwen, and Bono, and Sergi. For his mechanics and engineers. For everyone at the factory that’s worked both on his car and on his suit. If next weekend is his last weekend, and he’s going to die trying to save the world, then it might be nice going out doing something that makes him happy too.

 

After the Sprint yesterday he feels lighter, like he’s relieved a lot of the stress he was carrying with him. That’s not to say that he isn’t concerned about the events of the next week, but that he’s not so burdened by what’s already happened. The past doesn’t have such a deep, dark hold on him. He can breathe without choking, he can move without feeling like his body is weighed down by lead, he can think without the darkness clouding everything.

 

But right now his focus isn’t on the odds of him surviving more than the next week, and nor is it on racing. Instead he’s thinking about the present moment. He’s in the back of a modified 4x4, and he’s laughing - actually laughing! - as the car beneath him bounces over the rugged terrain. About 10 minutes ago Sergi pulled off the road and started to drive straight through the desert, and Bono’s been complaining about the lack of padding and suspension ever since. They’re guided entirely by moonlight, a Waxing Gibbous watching over the trio as they make their way to somewhere more secluded. 

 

It’s a few more minutes before they come to a complete stop, in a flat, dusty part of the desert. The ignition of the car is turned off and Sergi and Bono step out, with Kimi following suit. He misses the feeling of the wind in his hair, but relishes the fact that he’s finally going to be greeted with his big surprise - and that he’s going to get an opportunity to properly play with all his new toys. He’s only got a few days to figure out how to use everything, but it’s better than nothing.

 

His suit is the first thing taken out of the back of the car and Kimi shucks off his shirt and jeans before stepping into it with ease - years of changing in whatever cramped corner of the Prema motorhome he could find have well and truly freed him of any qualms about modesty. Kimi goes through the menus presented to him again, finding the booster and testing out just how much he can jump. Whilst he might have found the function last time, there was the small issue of a ceiling that really put a stop to his discovery. So now he bounces around, rising significantly from the ground and coming back down with ease - the suit cushioning his fall each time he plummets back down to Earth. Sergi and Bono are perfectly content to let him experiment, and Kimi is grateful that they aren’t rushing him - though after a few minutes of bouncing his attention is stolen.

 

Something new. His big surprise.

 

Kimi turns off the booster setting and uses his web for the sake of practice, attaching it to the ground by Sergi’s feet and pulling himself through the sand. The weight distribution of the suit is different than he’s used to, but in the middle of the desert the only people to see him stumble and fall are his engineer and trainer, and he’s sure he can coerce them into silence if anyone’s going to ask. The scuff marks from the sand, dulling his shiny metal exoskeleton, probably tell a story of their own.

 

“What is that?” Kimi asks as he gets back to his feet, looking at the strange contraption before him.

 

“These,” Bono begins, grinning from ear to ear. “Are mechanical spider legs. We can attach them to your suit and then you’ll be able to retract them and open them back up - that’s what the boffins told me, anyway.”

 

“Oh, yes mate! Brilliant! I was asking for those! Toto did listen!” He laughs, ignoring the slight pain in his chest.

 

“You need to be careful,” Sergi tells him seriously, as he often does. “Those pointed tips, you see them? We’ve used the venom you’ve been…”

 

“Milking?” Kimi offers, and both Sergi and Bono physically shudder at the chosen word. 

 

Kimi feels immensely proud.

 

“We don’t have an antidote,” he cautions. “It isn’t the same as the venom that the Hornet used on you, it’s something unique that your body can create.”

 

“You should be able to pierce metal with them,” Bono supplies as though he’s recalling the fun facts from the manual. “So if you can break through the Hornet’s suit, you can kill him.”

 

Kimi nods. A few months ago he might’ve felt a sense of unease with the prospect of killing someone, but ever since Mexico he’s found that he’s entirely on board. Since he learned of the hold that the Hornet had on his sister, he has been well and truly fair game. And now there’s the added risk that if he doesn’t manage to kill him the world might burn in a nuclear firestorm. He doesn’t know how much uranium the Hornet got his hands on, and he really doesn’t want to find out the answer to that question any time soon.

 

He has to kill him, and not just him. Sebastian Vettel, Nico Rosberg, and Toto Wolff aren’t mentors or heroes, they aren’t people he looks up to anymore. The people they used to be, before being consumed by ideals twisted and warped to validate their actions, were good. He likes to think those people were real. The people they are now, hungry for power and under the illusion that their villainy is saving the world rather than harming it, need to be eradicated.

 

Kimi knows it’s a thin tightrope to tread, that he too could so easily slip and fall into believing that what he’s doing is for the greater good even when it isn’t, but he doesn’t view innocent lives as a price worth paying to save the world. He’s not killing hundreds, thousands, or even more people to take ultimate power and mold society into his utopia. 

 

He allows Bono and Sergi to help attach the mechanical spider legs to his suit. There’s four of them, which when counting his own arms and legs brings him up to eight. They’re rigid and tough, with a bend in the middle like a knee, and as they’re hooked up to the same system as his suit he experiments with learning how to move them. Sergi and Bono watch from a distance, careful to keep themselves far enough away that they won’t be in danger of the venom tipped blades. It’s a strange sensation at first, suddenly having four more limbs to control, but Kimi is determined and he’s got no plans on giving up until he’s gotten used to using them and moving with them.

 

So for hours, that’s what he does. He bounds around, using the different features of his suit to jump and swing and slide. He trials whatever he can, but the first true test of his suit comes in the early hours of the morning. 

 

Kimi is a short distance away from Sergi and Bono, who watch him and occasionally speak to each other quietly, when he hears a loud howl. It hangs in the air around them, with nothing to bounce off and echo and nothing to absorb the noise. In an instant, Kimi stops moving, looking around in all directions to identify what the noise could’ve been. In the wilderness, he’s not convinced it can be a particularly good noise. 

 

There’s an animal, as long as Kimi is tall from nose to tail and about half as tall as he is. Its proportions look odd, the fur on its back almost tricking him into thinking it’s spiked like a porcupine, its legs are slender and its tail is bushy. 

 

It howls again, a low, guttural sound that strikes a sense of fear into his heart.

 

Particularly in the way that its attention seems firmly fixed on Sergi and Bono.

 

The two men are wise to it, but neither seems to know what to do. Even from a distance Kimi can sense their confusion - will running to the car anger it? Should they remain still and hope that’s the right thing to do? - and he knows he’s going to need to step in. Particularly given he swears he can see the thing salivating at the delicious dinner it's spotted. 

 

As it starts to encircle his companions, Kimi jumps into action. This is the perfect way to see how his suit feels in a combat situation. Of course, this animal is unlikely to fight back with nuclear weapons, explosives, and a massive mechanical ‘bee’ capable of crushing his ribs as it throws him against a wall, but it’s still a decent bit of experience.

 

He opts not to use the booster, preferring instead to utilise his web to skid across the sand as he races towards his friends. Kimi shifts his muscles, tensing his shoulders to raise the higher pair of mechanical legs and prepare them to strike. As he gets closer, the animal turns its attention away from Sergi and Bono - a welcome relief - and towards Kimi. 

 

In an instant, it goes from predator to prey as Kimi brings down one of the mechanical legs.

 

The force with which it hits the animal - a hyena, he can tell from here - is so strong that it not only breaks through the skin, but bursts through the other side and anchors itself in the ground. Kimi feels his body jerk from the G-force of being stopped suddenly the same way he would if he was racing, and he has to focus hard to be able to manoeuvre the leg out of the ground and the hyena. The tipped blade is now covered in blood, but being coated with venom he’d rather not risk cleaning it. The blood will dry and flake away in the warmth of day.

 

A few drops of venom fall onto the hyena, landing on the open wound, and after a little over a minute in its bloodstream he can see the effects take place. 

 

He’s fairly certain that the initial blow was enough to kill it, but its body seizes up far more quickly than rigor mortis could set in. It doesn’t tell him what his venom would do to a person beyond that, but the contraction of muscles gives him a fairly good idea. If muscles can’t move, the heart can’t beat, the lungs can’t breathe, a person would die a painful death - unable to blink or close their eyes to hide from the pain. They’d be faced with every second of their demise until their brain became so starved of oxygen that they become unconscious, even without closing their eyes.

 

It’s a terrible fate to picture, from both sides. He has to make sure the only people he uses this on are people that he wants to kill.

 

Bono and Sergi are jogging over to Kimi as he folds his mechanical legs away and he looks to the pair of them. They can’t see his expression behind his mask, so he waves.

 

“You’re safe,” he confirms. “It was a hyena, I think? I don’t know why it was going to eat you, you both probably taste awful,” Kimi jokes.

 

Bono nods, with Sergi taking a moment to glance at his watch.

 

“We need to go,” he explains. “We have to be back at the hotel before sunrise.”

 

Kimi nods his understanding, though he’ll admit that he’s disappointed he can’t spend more time preparing. He has a good feeling in the suit, but there’s a few things he’d like to refine. That will have to come in Abu Dhabi, though. They can’t risk being caught and their plans being for nothing, not with so much on the line.

 

So Kimi steps out of his suit, the spider legs remaining attached, and they bundle it carefully up into the back of the car. Sergi drives again, but this time Bono sits in the back with Kimi. He doesn’t mind it at all, it’s fun to have someone alongside him as they bound across the sand. Every bump jolts the car and it’s as if they’re on a rollercoaster, and Kimi laughs when a particularly sharp bounce seems to rattle through Bono’s spine as they land. There’s no permanent damage - that wouldn’t be a laughing matter - but it’s enough to tickle him.

 

Once they’re back on the main roads and driving back to Doha, Kimi feels himself starting to sag. He’s had a full day of racing and now training in his new suit, and the tiredness he feels is seeping slowly into his bones. One second he’s yawning, the next he’s resting his eyes, and when he next opens them he’s horizontal and somewhat rested. 

 

An hour’s nap with his head on Bono’s shoulder has done him the world of good. He’ll definitely sleep more on the journey from here to Abu Dhabi - a six hour drive will be perfect for that - but this is a good start. It’ll keep him going until such time that he can sleep in a real bed.

 

He sits himself back up, rubbing his eyes as he adjusts to being awake again. The street lights that illuminate the city block out the moon and the stars that had enveloped the trio in the desert, and he finds that he misses the wilderness. Maybe if he doesn’t die next weekend, in twenty years when he retires from Formula 1, he’ll give rallying a go.

 

Kimi sighs softly, yawning again when he feels his phone start to ring in his pocket. Where they’d gone in the desert there was obviously no signal, so if anyone had wanted to get in touch with him this would’ve been about the earliest possible opportunity they had. He can’t imagine who. Maybe someone in a different timezone. He’s fairly certain some of his friends from school are in America right now - maybe they’re out with fake IDs (more successfully than he and Ollie were) and are drunk calling him. That would be amusing.

 

Except when he opens up his phone, it’s not his friends calling. It’s his mother. Italy is an hour behind Qatar - it’s the middle of the night. He has no idea why she would be awake.

 

He’s not quick enough to answer the call, so the missed call joins the log of other missed calls. 

 

Thirty seven from his mother, twenty from his father.

 

Kimi’s heart sinks. He wipes the notification away, and the hundreds of texts, before he navigates to his contacts to quickly return the call. It doesn’t even ring once before his mother is speaking in their native Italian.

 

“Andrea!” She gasps. 

 

She sounds upset, tearful, and that fills his heart with fear.

 

“Mamma?” He asks. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” 

 

There’s no reason to have this many texts and missed calls if nothing has happened. Something has happened.

 

“Andrea, I don’t know where she is! We had dinner, we watched the race, we went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night and she’s gone!”

 

Kimi’s eyes widen. He can feel Bono staring at him, can feel Sergi’s gaze in the rear view mirror. Sergi can speak Italian fluently, but Bono is surely clueless as to what’s going on. Either way, his mother’s panic is intense enough that even without turning his phone to speaker, they can both hear her frantic words.

 

“Mamma, what do you mean? Take a deep breath.”

 

He can hear his mother do exactly as she’s asked, taking in that deep breath with an imperceptibly quiet whimper. Kimi feels his own heart pound in his chest as he waits for the next words, though he has a horrible feeling that he already knows what she’s about to say.

 

“Topolino, it’s Maggie!” She exclaims. “She’s gone!”

 

Notes:

Happy birthday Kimi?

So this chapter is maybe a little less stressful than last one, I think we can all agree? But we need a break. Next week is Abu Dhabi, and so long as I don't pull my hair out editing it you can expect to have a rollercoaster in a weeks time! So this is a good opportunity for all of us, and Kimi, to catch our breaths before the final stand :]

As always, comments and kudos are SO appreciated (especially now because I'm soooo burned out from writing this... Two more weeks and I'm FREE) so please consider letting me know what you thought about the chapter here or on Tumblr or Discord, and I'll see you next week!

Chapter 17: Issue 17: All Hell Breaks Loose

Doha, Qatar
Monday 01 December 2025

 

Since the phone call, Kimi’s ears have been deafened by a persistent ringing. At first it was infuriating - sharp, loud, and distracting - but now it’s become background noise. The rest of the world is muffled by the sound, but then he’s lost focus of the rest of the world entirely since he found out that his sister was missing. 

 

It’s Maggie. His precious sister. She’s gone. His mother’s voice echoes in his mind, both louder and quieter than the ringing in his ears. He’s repeated it so many times over that it no longer sounds real, that the words don’t make any sense to him. It’s not like they’ve made sense before, it’s all so wrong. Because Sebastian - the Hornet - has always taken her from her bed when he’s needed her and returned her without anyone noticing. For her to be gone, taken from her home rather than a hotel room in a strange city… His heart aches, and he wonders if it will ever beat the same again. Because somehow it’s his fault. It’s his fault that his family were in Bologna, far away from him. It’s his fault that he couldn’t offer any kind of protection, that he couldn’t combat whatever the Hornet did to steal her. It’s his fault that he hasn’t fixed this sooner, that he’s let it get to this point. 

 

He never had any idea what to do before, that hasn’t changed now. All that’s changed is the situation is now infinitely more desperate, and he’s clutching at straws in the hopes that one of them will lead him to where he needs to be. Right now, the best he can come up with is that he needs to leave Qatar behind, he needs to talk to his parents, he needs to tell them everything. He’ll be dead in a week, they’ll find out the truth then. He needs to be honest, he needs to tell them the truth, and he needs to find a way to bring Maggie home. If he can do that maybe his death won’t be heartbreak to them, but a necessary sacrifice. Andrea for Maggie. It’s a deal he’d make, and one he’s sure his parents would make too. He’s lived twice as long as her, and he’s the hero. Dying is what heroes do. He made his choice in Jeddah when he saved his father, it only seems poetic that he’ll meet his end saving his sister.

 

Kimi is sitting in the hotel lobby, waiting for his car to come and take him to the airport. The plan was to drive with the team’s convoy from Lusail to Abu Dhabi, but that plan has been utterly wrecked now. Now he’s got a flight to Venice at 8:35am, and he’ll get a rental car from the airport and speed the entire drive back to Bologna. He’ll be home in the middle of the afternoon, and then everything will change. 

 

The thought to just run barely crossed his mind before this. He could run and never go to Abu Dhabi, he could hide and live a long life under the radar, without racing, without the Hornet and the Wasp and Toto on his tail, but that would be a wholly unsatisfying life. It would be a life of constant paranoia, of cowardice, of guilt. Now that Maggie is gone, the option is entirely off the table. He has to face whatever will happen next weekend, shoulders back and chin up. 

 

Kimi stares at the reception area. It’s still dark outside, too early for the winter sun to have risen, and it means all he sees is basked in a fluorescent glow. The plant pots, the desk, the staff coming and going to start preparing breakfast. He looks down at his hands, the darkness on his arm now spreading onto his palm. He does nothing to hide it - what’s the point in hiding anymore? Kimi exhales slowly, casting his eyes down to his bag. Most of his gear will still be taken by Mercedes to Abu Dhabi, so he’s only packed what he’ll need for an overnight stay. He has plenty of clothes at home - though the necks might be tighter than he’s used to.

 

It’s the sound of footsteps, echoing in the empty foyer, that draws his attention back from the depths of his mind. Kimi looks up, his posture relaxing as he spots a familiar face in front of him. It’s not Sergi - his exhausted trainer is organising the flights for him and his parents later in the week - and it’s not Bono - who’s gone for a much needed sleep - instead it’s another friend. An old friend. Pedro.

 

Kimi gets to his feet to meet him, legs wobbling like he’s a newborn deer taking its first shaky steps, and Pedro speeds up to get to him faster before he can fall. The arms that wrap around him feel wonderful, and Kimi allows himself to sink against Pedro’s chest. For the briefest of moments, there’s a spark that makes him feel younger. He feels like he could’ve won a race in FRECA, like he’s 16 and the worst thing that’s happened to him is a few broken bones. Or maybe he’s 17, and his Formula 2 career isn’t going how anyone expected it to go, and Pedro is holding him tightly and reassuring him that he’s doing his best - and that his best is enough. But when he pulls back and he opens his eyes, he’s 19. He’s 19 and the fate of the world rests on his shoulders. He’s 19 and he’s bruised and scarred more deeply than he ever could’ve imagined. He’s 19 and he’s barely even human anymore.

 

“Mate, what’s going on?” Pedro asks him, and Kimi wants to cry there and then.

 

He’s not trying to bottle his emotions up anymore - he’s slowly but surely learning to share the burden with others - but equally, he doesn’t want to burst out crying. Crying isn’t productive, it won’t save his sister, and he knows he’ll have plenty of time to cry on the plane. Right now he still needs to be able to make decisions.

 

“A lot,” Kimi confesses quietly. “I don’t think I have time to explain everything.”

 

Pedro nods, and Kimi finds himself once again relieved that he has a team of people so unwaveringly in his corner. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve their trust, or their faith, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to do anything that risks losing it.

 

“You know how to code, eh?” 

 

“Ah, mate, a little,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “I can’t do anything special.” 

 

“But you can fix bugs, right?” He asks hopefully.

 

“Depends on the bug,” Pedro chuckles.

 

“A spider.”

 

Pedro blinks, and Kimi feels his stare on the top of his head as he crouches down and unzips the front pocket of his bag to reveal the still idle form of Pedro the spider. He looks down at the little robot, his eyes stinging a little, and he finds the ache returning to his heart. All this time he’s been operating under Toto’s programming, but still kept him alive. He still helped fight against what he could, still tried to tell him things even when he was too stupid to listen. Pedro the spider deserves to be saved, just as much as everyone else he loves, and so he looks back up to his old engineer with his palms cupped together in front of him, cradling the spider as if he’s in danger of breaking at any moment.

 

“Can you fix him?”

 

“Fix him?” Pedro asks.

 

“His programming is corrupted, he–” Kimi swallows, not sure how much he should reveal. “I just need him to be on my side. Can you… Eh… I don’t know? Rewrite his brain?”

 

“I can try,” Pedro admits.

 

The man holds out his hands, mirroring how Kimi is holding his, and he’s grateful for it. He knows Pedro the spider will be in good care with Pedro the human, he trusts his old engineer like nothing else. 

 

“Thank you, mate,” he says sincerely, carefully passing the robot to his friend.

 

Kimi forces himself to smile, even if it feels like an impossible task, glancing between the two Pedros as he tries to think of something to say to break the ice. But he can’t, his brain is completely and utterly stuck. The moment only ends when Pedro (the human) slides Pedro (the spider) into his left hand, then takes his right and pats Kimi’s shoulder affectionately. 

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he encourages. “You’ve gotten this far, and you’ve got all of us to help you. We won’t let you down.”

 

He nods, biting the inside of his cheek as he lets both Pedros go. Being without his beloved spider for the first time in months feels wrong, but if he has any hope of seeing him again he has to. He has to hope that Pedro (the human) can do this.

 

Only a few moments after they leave, Kimi has company again. Sergi’s beside him, slipping his phone back into his pocket and reaching out for him. Kimi lets the embrace happen, sinking into it just as he did with Pedro. He’ll take all the hugs he can get right now, as if it’s possible to steal other people’s strength to use for the journey home. Kimi’s been exhausted before - he’s experienced gruelling races and fought in seemingly never ending battles - but this is a whole different kind of tired. This isn’t the kind of tiredness where he can take a quick nap and feel alert again, this is the kind of tiredness that seeps into his very bones. No matter what he does to try and recover, there’s going to be something else coming to replace it. Maybe eating would take his mind off the disappearance of his sister, but then he’d think again about the fact that he’s probably going to die this weekend. And maybe sleeping would allow him to forget about his probable demise, but then he’ll just end up dreaming about the restaurant in Las Vegas again.

 

The only way out is through, and this is going to be a dreadfully long week to get through.

 

“Are you sure you want to go home alone?” Sergi asks him quietly.

 

Kimi just nods his head against his chest. As wonderful as it would be to have his trainer there, he needs all of his team here. If he’s walking into a trap, he can’t let Sergi get caught in it too. If something happens in Abu Dhabi before he can get back, people need to be there that can do something about it.

 

“I’ll see you on Wednesday,” he croaks out softly. 

 

“I’ll be at the airport to pick you up. I’ve emailed the return flights to you.”

 

“Grazie,” Kimi mutters, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. 

 

When he’s sure he’s stable enough to do so, Kimi pulls back from the embrace and crouches down to grab his bag, slipping it onto his shoulders and looking up at his trainer. Every goodbye now feels more important than the last - just in case it is the last. Kimi doesn’t say anything else - he doesn’t really need to, everything he needs Sergi to know is waiting for him - he just steps outside the hotel and watches as warm headlights approach. Everything is awash with a soft yellowish hue, and then Kimi is in the back of a car heading for the airport. In two hours, he’ll be on a plane. Six hours after that, he’ll be landing in Venice. Two hours after that, he’ll be approaching his childhood home with more burdens than he can count. And then… Then it’s just a case of telling his parents roughly eight months worth of secrets and hoping they’ll find it within their hearts to forgive him.

 

+ + +

 

Bologna, Italy
Monday 01 December 2025

 

Kimi’s eyes are bloodshot and dry when the plane lands in Venice, and no one dares to stop him for an autograph or a selfie as he shoves his way off the plane. He doesn’t care if his elbow nestles in someone’s ribs, or if he steps on someone’s toes, he just cares about moving quickly. The faster he can get home and explain this, the faster he can start to do something about it. Now that he’s on Italian soil he can do something, and the helpless, self-pitying grief he’d felt in Qatar is long gone. Flashing his passport as quickly as he can to get through security, he runs through baggage reclaim and straight into the arrivals hall where he can throw his credit card on the counter and hire the fastest car they have available for him. He’s lucky that it’s not late in the day, that he’s not having to navigate rush hour, and he’s lucky that he knows this road well enough to slow down for the speed cameras to keep from being pulled over. 

 

Every second since the phone call from his mother has been nothing short of agony, and he’ll be damned if anything stops him from getting home as quickly as he can.

 

He can’t imagine the pain his parents are experiencing right now. For Kimi, the situation is awful, but it is a situation he understands. For his parents there’s no understanding, there’s no reasoning, and there’s no rationale, there’s just anguish beyond their wildest dreams, a sorrow that will never leave them - even when he manages to bring Maggie home. Because he will bring her home, there’s no doubt about that. 

 

As he drives, he can’t help but picture what is and what should have been. Maggie should’ve woken up this morning in her own bed, she should’ve had her usual breakfast, she should’ve kissed their parents goodbye and walked to school with her friends. She’d be in a history lesson now, waiting for the bell to ring to signal that it’s the end of the day. She should be looking forward to Christmas, and writing her letter to Santa. She should be smiling, safe and sound, thinking about the gymnastics competitions she’s going to take part in next year and how she’s going to win them all. The reality cannot be further from the truth. What he remembers of his time with the Hornet is dark, and lonely, and painful. He remembers the torture of how the voice in his head used to torment him, the hurt that came when his new finger was fitted. As he thinks about it, he can feel the phantom stings along the metallic prosthetic. He hopes, terribly, that she’s still unconscious. He hopes that she isn’t awake to experience any of what he went through during those awful weeks over summer. He’s still haunted by the nightmares of it all, he doesn’t want that for her. 

 

She’s done nothing to deserve this - she’s just unlucky enough to be his sister.

 

Kimi parks the car outside his family home and steps out into the cold winter air. It jolts him awake, a shock to the system after a week in the desert, and it keeps him focused as he grabs his bag and walks a few paces to the door. Unsurprisingly, there’s police officers standing outside the house - accompanied by a mob of paparazzi intent on documenting his distress. Kimi just keeps his head low as he passes by, even though he’s greatly tempted to turn and scream at them all. A little girl is missing, abducted by the Hornet who’s already been using her to his advantage, and all they care about is photos of him. Photos that will be circulated online, with fans trying to decide if he looks upset enough at the situation. Photos that will be used against him as proof that he doesn’t deserve to be re-signed, that he’s too emotional for Formula 1, that he’s not got World Champion Mentality. They’ll make money off these photos, money off his sister’s disappearance. 

 

He clenches his fists, tightly, and sets his jaw as he heads inside.

 

Kimi opens the front door and is greeted by a house that is silent and still. He closes the door behind him, drops his bag to the floor and takes off his shoes. Distant sniffles tell him that his mother is in the dining, and so he makes his way through the house slowly. He looks left and right as he walks, staring at the photos on the wall. The ones of him growing up feel utterly alien now, as though they’re photos of an entirely different person. He barely recognises the little blond boy and his bright smile, the optimism in his eyes and the dreams in his head. Equally, he barely recognises the little brunette girl that’s framed all around him. 

 

He’s missed a lot of her life, a lot of her growing up. Too much in retrospect. He missed her losing her first tooth, he missed countless gymnastics tournaments, he missed first days at school and the time she learned how to ride a bike. At the time none of it had felt particularly monumental, but now it feels overwhelming. So many key parts of his sister’s childhood happened without him present to see them, his memories of her told through pixelated video calls in loud karting paddocks or too small hotel rooms. And now the Hornet has her. Kimi can only pray that he doesn’t take the last of the childlike spark from her eyes. 

 

Kimi stops briefly, to reach out and touch a photo of his family. The frame has gathered dust over the last year, but it’s one of the most recent photographs they have of them all together. It was taken shortly after Kimi’s contract was announced. If he remembers correctly, his mother had thrust her phone in Toto’s face and badgered him until he agreed to take the family photograph. He winces, the memory stinging so much more than he expected it to.

 

He shoves his hand back into his pocket as he walks on, avoiding the creaking floorboards that he used to dodge whilst hunting for a midnight snack and making his way to the dining room. His mother is sitting at the table, an almost empty box of tissues in front of her and a small bin to the side that’s overflowing with used ones. His father sits beside her, with an arm around her shoulders, the chair angled slightly so he’s looking at her. Kimi watches them both for a moment, feeling as if approaching is the wrong thing to do. 

 

This is all his fault. He craves their embrace, he craves their comfort, but he’s here to tell them the truth. Once they know the truth, family will mean nothing. All that will matter is whether or not he can bring Maggie home.

 

“Mamma,” he manages to whisper. “Papino…” 

 

His voice alerts them to his presence and they both look up. Marco is strong, resolute, whilst Veronica bursts out into fresh tears and holds her arms up to invite him closer. Kimi doesn’t need to be asked twice - or even once, really - he just walks toward her and wraps his arms tightly around his mother. He can feel her frame shaking in his grip as her grief is renewed, and he presses a firm kiss to the top of her head.

 

“Topolino,” she whispers as the conversation continues in their native tongue. “I didn’t hear her! I don’t know what happened. She didn’t scream, or cry out, I just woke up. I needed the bathroom and the house was… Oh, Andrea, it was so cold! I felt it in my heart, something dark and awful, and when I looked into her room the window was wide open and her bed was empty.”

 

Kimi can hear the guilt in every word she speaks, and it rattles him to his very core. He holds her tightly, like he can take her guilt and shoulder it himself. 

 

“Mamma, it’s not your fault,” he whispers.

 

Because it’s his. 

 

“There’s nothing,” she replies with a sob, pulling back and holding Kimi at arms’ length to search his face.

 

He can hear the distress in her voice, raw and real, and Kimi’s stomach churns. He hasn’t eaten since just after the race and he’s glad of it - if there was anything in his body he’s sure this would be enough for him to reject it. 

 

“The police, they say there is no evidence! No fingerprints, no DNA, no video, there's nothing! They’ve put out notices, sent her photo to airports and train stations and ferry terminals,” she inhales shakily, cheeks wet and red. “But they can’t do anything else.”

 

Marco leans over, a hand on his wife’s back trying desperately to console her, but Kimi can see in his eyes that he is just as hurt by all this as her - he’s just trying to be strong. The pain that they feel is so acute that Kimi can feel it too. Of course he’s heartbroken about his sister being taken, but there’s a secondary pain that comes from hearing how much it’s hurt his family. Maggie is gone, and as far as the police are concerned there’s no way of finding her. She’s vanished without a trace. 

 

And Kimi’s the one that’s done this to them.

 

“We’ll find her, Veronica,” Marco insists softly.

 

He moves his other hand to take hers, wrinkled and calloused fingers intertwining. Their wedding bands glint under the gentle lighting of the dining room, and Kimi feels like he takes yet another metaphorical punch. 

 

“How?” Veronica asks desperately. “I don’t know when she was taken! I don’t know how far she could’ve gotten before the police were here! I don’t know who could’ve done this, or why!” 

 

She pulls away from Kimi, leaning her head against her husband’s chest, and she chokes on a sob. Watching as Marco does everything in his power to hold her and calm her destroys him. It’s worse than crashing into the barriers in Austria, or learning about Toto’s betrayal, or knowing that he’s going to be dead in less than a week’s time. This is his mother. The woman that’s loved him unconditionally since before he was born, who cradled him and sang him lullabies as a colicky child, who nursed him from her bosom until he was good and fat and had a cheeky, one-toothed grin as he stole food from their plates. The woman who believed in him, even when his dreams frightened her. The woman who helped him learn how to walk twice - once when he was a child, and once when he broke his leg in a karting accident. To him, she has been a beacon of stability. She has been a lighthouse in his darkest moments, guiding him home. Watching her break and crumble… It’s something he’s never going to be able to forget.

 

Kimi moves slowly around the table, deciding the best way to do this is to sit opposite them. The chair squeaks out too loudly, and when he sits it creaks too much. When he breathes out, it’s too loud, breaking the fragile quiet around the grieving parents. Kimi places his hands in front of him, his fingers out on the table for his family to see. Nine pink, fleshy ones, and one Mercedes coloured metallic one. He feels nauseous just looking at it, wondering if Toto was the one fumbling around in the dark reattaching it to him. He shakes the thought from his head and rolls back his shoulders, preparing to share the tiniest glimmer of hope he has. But there’s a lot to tell before he can give them that hope.

 

“It’s because of me,” he says, his voice shaking traitorously even as he tries to project confidence. “Maggie is gone because of me.”

 

His parents shift, moving as one as they look towards him. There’s a sympathetic look in both of their eyes and it makes Kimi feel sick. He doesn’t deserve their sympathy - their baby girl is gone because of him! 

 

“Kimi, this has nothing to do with you,” his father assures him. “You were in Qatar, you were racing.”

 

“But it has everything to do with me, papino,” he counters. 

 

Neither his mother nor his father look away at his statement, but their sadness morphs into confusion. They’re understandably perplexed by his words, and Kimi knows there’s no turning back now. He owes them an explanation: he owes them the truth.

 

It was easier to tell Ollie, because Ollie already knew. He’d seen the mask, the suit, and Kimi didn’t have to say the words because Ollie did it for him. It was easier to tell Susie, because the sticky notes painted the story as he thought he knew it. He filled in the gaps, but it was easy enough to piece together from what was displayed on that wall. But telling his parents? People who are utterly oblivious to what’s been going on for the past few months? Kimi takes in another shaky breath and moves his hands, pushing up the sleeve of his left arm to reveal the darkness on his skin. It’s met with a gasp from his father, and another sob from his mother, and Kimi forces himself to continue on.

 

“It’s me,” he says simply. “I’m the Silver Spider.”

 

The room is utterly silent, his father staring at him as his mother peels away from his side. She’s still shaking as she stands, stumbling over her own feet as she makes her way around the table, falling to her knees on the floor beside Kimi’s chair and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her sobs are raw, he can hear how they scrape at her throat and leave her physically pained. Kimi tries to help her up onto a chair beside him, but he knows he has to keep speaking.

 

“It happened years ago, when I was still karting. With Nico’s academy,” he flinches at the name. “I was bitten, and nothing really happened. Not until I was a teenager. I told Sergi, of course, and we agreed that we would keep it as a secret. Everything was fine, until Australia, when the Hornet was there and suddenly my powers… I couldn’t hide them. I knew when something was happening, and it was only a matter of time until I had to intervene.”

Kimi looks from his mother, still bent over awkwardly to hold him as tightly as she can, to his father. He still looks as strong as he did when Kimi walked in, but now his eyes are glassy and wet. When he blinks, tears escape, but he doesn’t give in to the full bodied sobs that have stolen his mother.

 

“In Jeddah?” Marco asks.

 

Kimi nods.

 

“We had agreed I wouldn’t get involved,” Kimi explains. “But… The Hornet had you, papino.”

 

“I thought I was going to die,” his father whispers breathlessly.

 

“I thought you were too,” Kimi admits. “But I wouldn’t let that happen, eh? I had to be a hero, I had to save you. And after that… It just escalated. Miami, Monaco, Canada… In Silverstone, he did something to me, got into my head, made me do terrible things,” he confesses with an instinctive, unavoidable shudder. “I lost the charm you gave me, papino. I’m sorry.”

 

He speaks vaguely, not wanting to fill in all of the grisly details. His parents are processing enough as it is, the last thing they need is to picture how he was kidnapped and strapped to a table, his wrist cut open before he was injected with a serum that corrupted him from the inside out. They don’t need to know how he lost his finger, or what happened during summer break when they couldn’t contact him. If their faces are anything to go by, they’re doing a decent job of figuring out the gaps themselves anyway.

 

“Sebastian Vettel is the Hornet,” he tells them bluntly. “And he has been using Bombo to get to Maggie for months. She was there, in Mexico, when the explosion levelled part of the city. She was in the casino in Las Vegas. He took her from the hotel when she was sleeping and brought her back before anyone noticed. Susie found her sleepwalking the night after the race in Vegas, she didn’t wake up for hours,” he explains.

 

His father blinks again and more tears fall, and this time he allows himself to be vulnerable enough to wipe his own eyes. The tepid admission of his upset speaks volumes to Kimi, who isn’t sure he’s ever seen his father cry even once before.

 

“Can you find her?” He asks after what feels like an age.

 

And that’s the question, isn’t it. Can he? He’s sure he can, because if the Hornet has been gradually using Maggie more and more in his plots, and if he’s planning something big for Abu Dhabi, then it only makes sense that Maggie’s recent abduction has something to do with that.

 

“I can find her,” he nods his head in agreement. “I promise. If Sebastian wanted her dead, she’d be dead. Clearly, she is useful alive, eh?”

 

The words are dark, but meant to provide some kind of comfort to his parents. The Hornet needs her alive, he won’t let any harm come to her. His mother still sobs again, and Kimi turns to her this time. He bundles her up in his arms and pulls her close, hugging her like he might never get the chance to do it again. He tries not to think about the fact that it could be a true statement.

 

“I will do everything I can to bring her back safely. I promise. If you come with me to Abu Dhabi, I will bring her back to you. I swear.”

 

“You too, topo,” his father says simply. “We want both of our children home and safe.”

 

Kimi swallows, and he nods his head. He refuses to look his father in the eye as he does that, crossing his fingers behind his mother when he knows he can’t see. It’s a promise that he knows he can’t make, not when the odds of him keeping it are so low. 

 

He won’t ask his parents to choose, if it comes to it. He doesn’t need to anyway, he’s already made the decision for them.

 

+ + +

 

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
Friday 05 December 2025

 

The days have passed in a strange kind of fog. Moments of lucid desperation as he’s tried to plan for every eventuality and find a counter for every attack that the Hornet might spring on them, bookended by misty, long hours of overwhelming emotion. Anger, heartbreak, fear - it’s all consumed Kimi at some point over the last few days. He’s worked best when he’s been around his parents, keeping up the façade of strength for them as they’ve come to terms with the world they now inhabit, but he can’t be around them all the time. He’s had to take time alone in his hotel room to sit and write, he’s had to go to briefings with his team and to the media pen. 

 

If Kimi lives through this whole ordeal, he’s never going to forgive the media for how they’ve behaved.

 

Whenever he’s been out in public, it’s as if vultures have descended upon him. They’ve acted like wild animals, deprived of a meal and starved until their bodies have been nothing but flesh stretched out over bones. Whenever they’ve seen him, they’ve practically salivated at the sight. A young boy, without a contract, whose little sister is missing. As soon as the story made it out of Italy it was inevitable that he was going to be pounced upon at every opportunity. He enters the paddock with his parents, attempting to shield them from the shouts of journalists demanding to know why they’re here. Shouldn’t they be in Italy searching for their daughter? And then the shouts become more targeted. Suddenly, he’s selfish for driving. In his state of mind, shouldn’t he give the seat up to Valtteri to win Mercedes the Constructors’ Championship?

 

It almost makes him laugh. He’s selfish for driving, sure, but if he was in Italy he knows the headlines would still read that he was selfish - putting his family above his career. Doesn’t he know he doesn’t have a contract for next year?, the articles would read. Who would hire a driver that would abandon their team like that? Besides, he’s not the only selfish one. He selfishly picked his career over his sister, sure, but it’s not like he’s been given any room to deal with that. He still had to go and participate in the annual Secret Santa (he’d pulled Jack and bought him a boomerang with his face carved into the wings, whilst Oscar had pulled him and bought him pasta in the shape of the Mercedes star), though putting a smile on his face was easy enough - he’s had plenty of practice keeping his emotions in check by now.

 

At least Friday morning means the media circus is, for the most part, done. If he dies in the next few days, then when his life flashes before his eyes he certainly won’t be seeing a highlight reel of photographers, journalists, and the press. 

 

He’s accompanied his parents to the paddock, as he did yesterday, and he’s made sure to keep the focus on himself during his arrival. He’s chaperoned them to Mercedes hospitality, which he doesn’t feel particularly good about but there’s nowhere else he can take them. If he suggests they go somewhere else, then questions will be asked. Toto might put the pieces together too soon, and things might go awry. With them safely out of the view of the public he can go about his day - which this morning features a visit to the feeder series paddock. 

 

At the end of the season, the feeder series paddock is abuzz with energy. Drivers are fighting for the Championship - the title could go to any of the top four come Sunday - and the extra 2 points that pole position gifts could be the difference between winning and losing. For some drivers, another season in Formula 2 awaits them. For others, graduation. Alex Dunne and Arvid Lindblad both have contracts under their belts, as does Dino Beganovic. People had wondered after last year if young drivers might hit a bottleneck and struggle to get into Formula 1 for a number of years, but that’s been remedied by Cadillac joining the grid, by the usual Red Bull second driver drama, and by Lando jumping ship after the team he’d given everything to prioritised his teammate over him. 

 

Kimi feels partially responsible for that last one. He’s done a good enough job that he’s kept Lando from scoring more points, and Oscar’s lead in the teammate battle has become impossible to ignore. But, for all he’s done, Kimi almost certainly won’t be driving next year.

 

He makes his way down to Prema’s cluster of vehicles and waves to Gabriele Mini and Sebastian Montoya as he passes through where they’re warming up for their hour of practice. This time last year, Kimi recalls being bedridden with a fever. He remembers the press were just as predatory then as they are now. The rumours that his illness was faked, that Prema’s poor performance for the year had angered Mercedes and they withdrew him from the weekend. In reality, it was the opposite. Not being able to say goodbye to the team that had raised him broke his heart, and he’s glad he’s able to drop by and visit them this year.

 

The fact that he’s here to say goodbye isn’t lost on him at all.

 

Kimi waltzes into the back of their tented area and throws his arm around Pedro’s shoulders, his old engineer not even reacting as he does so. Even after a year spent mostly apart, their bond is as strong as ever. Kimi holds out his hand, and Pedro takes it, shaking firmly before letting him go and patting his chest a few times.

 

“You can’t get enough of me, eh?” Pedro teases him, looking up from his screens and finally facing Kimi.

 

“Ah, mate, I’m missing your replacement.”

 

“Bono?”

 

Kimi snorts. 

 

“The spider,” he says, nudging him with his elbow.

 

“Well, you’ll have to miss him a bit longer. I’m still working on him.”

 

Kimi will admit that he’s a little disappointed, but he nods his head. Prema has had another difficult year, and asking him to reprogram a robotic spider in less than a week, before the final race of the season, is a bit much. He needs to focus on his job, and Kimi is - unfortunately - not his job anymore.

 

“Do you think he’ll be ready by Sunday?” 

 

“I’ll try my best, you know I don’t want to let you down.”

Kimi nods his head, he’d never think of accusing Pedro of something like that. 

 

“Look, mate, I wanted to give you something alright?” He says, digging into his jacket pocket. “But it’s a surprise. You can open it when you’re back in Portugal, or at least when we’re all done here.”

 

“If it’s another glitter bomb, I swear–”

 

“It’s not, it’s not,” he says, beaming widely as he takes the little envelope out. 

 

When he presents it to Pedro, the man just raises his eyebrows and stares at him - judging.

 

“Mate, I swear it’s not!” Kimi says, gesturing wildly in his own defense. “Look, just trust me!”

 

“Trust you? To not cover my apartment in glitter? What’s the saying, hm? Fool me once, fool me twice?”

 

Kimi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, shoving his hands back into his pockets. 

 

“I thought we were friends, what kind of friends cannot trust each other?” 

 

“Friends that are still finding glitter in their furniture three years later,” Pedro accuses, and Kimi just bursts out laughing again.

 

It’s strange. Laughing. He’ll be dead in a little over forty eight hours and he’s laughing like it’s nothing. He’s laughing like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s laughing like he has a future. 

 

“I’ll see you later,” Pedro tells him, patting his bicep as he moves past him. “We’re taking the cars up to the pit lane. Are you joining us for the session?”

 

“Ah, not this time. Maybe next year, eh?” He offers, melancholy finally starting to seep into his tone. “Good luck, mate. Oh, and I think Bono had something sent to your hotel room. Let me know if you’ve got it.”

 

Pedro nods his head as he walks away, and Kimi is forced to let the man do his job. He walks back towards Mercedes slowly, partially to just soak in the atmosphere and enjoy the sound of mechachrome engines firing to life, and partially because everywhere he walks a Dallara chassis seems to be blocking his path. He does, eventually, make it back, and he knows he should be going straight back to his driver room to have an early lunch whilst the Formula 2 Practice session unfolds. Then it’ll be a warm up, a meeting with Bono about the session run plan, and he’ll be jumping into the car. But before he can make it to his room, he finds that he’s coming face to face with an old… 

 

There’s not really a word to describe his relationship with Paul Aron, but seeing the man wandering through Mercedes hospitality with a smug grin on his face certainly doesn’t make him feel all that good inside. Admittedly, he’s going to feel a lot worse on Sunday, but at least for right now this is the worst part of his weekend. He bites back the urge to sigh and roll his eyes, and instead offers him a smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

 

He wonders what Paul will think when he dies. Will he look back on how messy things got after he left the Mercedes Academy and regret it? Will he double down on his anger and resentment and say he’s glad he’s gone? For Kimi, it doesn’t matter either way, considering he’ll be too dead to be affected by it.

 

“Antonelli,” Paul calls, which already surprises Kimi.

 

The last time they spoke was in the stewards’ room in Hungary, and that could hardly be described as a conversation they both willingly signed up to.

 

“I’m sorry about your sister, mate,” he says.

 

It almost sounds genuine.

 

“Thanks,” he says quietly, not sure how to take this interaction. “I don’t want to talk about it too much, eh? I just hope she comes home soon.”

 

“Well,” he starts, and the grin on his face widens. “You’ll have plenty of time to help look for her at least.”

 

Kimi tilts his head curiously, trying to act as a normal person would. Right now he’s not a superhero, he’s just Kimi. Paul might be the worst person to learn the truth before the world did.

 

“Next year, when you’re not driving,” he says proudly.

 

The man sticks his nose in the air as he walks away, his smugness so intense that it manages to permeate Kimi’s skin. It feels wrought with jealousy, and he finds himself entirely unsurprised at the fact. Nothing has changed between them, and even if he expected to live beyond Sunday he could still confidently declare that nothing ever would change between them. Once upon a time they could’ve been friends, and sometimes Kimi still wonders how that would’ve gone. 

 

“You know,” a familiar voice cuts through Kimi’s internal monologue. “I really don’t like that kid.”

 

“Paul?” Kimi asks, turning to look at George. “Mate, he’s older than me.” 

 

“Does that mean I have to like him?” George asks, raising his eyebrows.

 

Kimi shrugs, he doesn’t really want to spend his final days thinking too hard about Paul Aron - of all people. But to George, his unwillingness to answer means something else, and like the infuriatingly good teammate he is, he probes deeper.

 

“A lot of emotions going on?” George hazards a guess. “I mean, I remember how I felt at the end of my first season. It’s overwhelming. All the memories, the highs and the lows, the things you’ve done for the first time, how tired you’re feeling. I can’t remember if I was more chuffed or cream crackered, but I slept for two days straight. And that was in a Williams, God only knows how you feel,” he chuckles. 

 

Kimi nods, but he doesn’t laugh with him. George seems to have been expecting a laugh. Kimi is still trying to figure out what it means to be cream crackered. 

 

“A Constructors’ Championship in your first season is pretty good going,” George praises, moving the conversation along before he has the chance to ask.

 

“We haven’t won it yet,” Kimi points out. 

 

“No, but we will. We’ll win, and then we’ll go and celebrate. You’ll get a brand new contract with a hefty bonus, and we’ll have another few years as teammates. Next time you’re up for renewal, you’ll probably have a proper Championship to your name. Maybe we both will.”

 

Kimi takes in a deep breath, swallowing and nodding as he walks alongside George to meander to his driver room. If he gets there, then the conversation comes to an end and he doesn’t have to think about how George is going to take all of this. He’s been such a good friend, even if he hasn’t deserved it. Talking about the future with him feels odd. This hypothetical Championship George thinks he’s capable of winning… It was his dream, for so long, but life has gotten in the way. 

 

“And maybe next year, we won’t have to deal with some crazy terrorist attacking us all. That would be nice,” he decides.

 

“It would,” Kimi agrees, licking his lips. 

 

He needs to go and excrete some of his venom, there’s far too much pooling in his mouth right now. But, at the very least, they’ve made it back to their rooms and Kimi is able to nod his head to his door. George takes that as a goodbye, raising a hand to wave to him silently as he steps into his own room. He’ll see him again later, they don’t need to do anything more than that. So Kimi opens the door to his own room, relieved to finally be getting a little bit of privacy, except when the door closes he’s got anything other than privacy.

 

“Orsachiotto,” he whispers, softening every part of his body when he sees Ollie.

 

The good thing about Ollie is he knows, and the nice thing about being in his room is that there’s no one else here. He can shrug off his jacket and not care about anyone seeing his darkened arm. He can reach for the vials and start to excrete his venom and not worry that someone is going to report him to the FIA for doping. And, most importantly, he doesn’t have to pretend that he isn’t completely and hopelessly in love with Oliver Bearman.

 

“I thought I’d come and see you,” Ollie says softly.

 

He’s sitting on the sorry excuse for a bed in the corner of his room, legs crossed and eyes filled with sadness and sympathy. 

 

“It’s okay,” he says, speaking with a lisp whilst he’s got his sharp canines dripping venom straight into glass tubes.

 

Kimi sits beside Ollie, letting his legs dangle off the side of the bed, and he leans against his shoulder. Being with him is a double edged sword - one that’s only going to get sharper as the weekend progresses. He’s a comfort, something soft in a cruel and unforgiving world, a beacon of light in the darkness, but he’s also a reminder of what could have been. The future they could’ve had. Living together in Monaco, fighting for Championships with each other, getting married, spending the rest of their lives as a pair.

 

“I heard the news,” Kimi says, deciding he’d much rather change the subject. “Congratulations.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ollie says. 

 

He blushes. Ollie looks beautiful when he blushes. His cheeks have turned Ferrari red, as if confirming what Ollie really isn’t meant to confirm.

 

“Oh, come on Orsa, the whole paddock knows. It’s the worst kept secret,” he laughs.

 

“I really don’t know what you mean!” Ollie insists, and Kimi just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

 

“Of course you don’t, eh? And I think I might win the Championship tomorrow. Do you want to start telling the truth any time soon?” 

 

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone, not even my parents,” Ollie whispers.

 

“So there’s something you’re not supposed to tell people?” 

 

“... Shit.” 

 

Kimi laughs harder. Ollie’s never been one for keeping secrets - frankly, the only reason the whole world doesn’t know his identity is because Ollie had already accused half of the grid of being the Silver Spider before he found out the truth - and this is no exception. Of course, it’s a rumour that’s mostly confined to the paddock. The drivers, whilst not always the best of friends, respect each other enough not to share information that shouldn’t be shared. Especially when the information is that Lewis will be leaving the sport, and Ollie will be stepping up to take his place.

 

“It’s okay,” Kimi smiles. “You look good in red. Suits you.”

 

“You’re biased,” Ollie shakes his head. “You’re Italian. Of course you’d think I’d look good in Ferrari.”

 

“Ah, but I remember Jeddah last year! You abandoned me,” he says dramatically. “I had to race in Prema alone that weekend, you got to make your glamorous debut!”

 

Ollie smiles, slipping a hand into Kimi’s and intertwining their fingers together.

 

“I’m excited to be fighting with you again,” he says softly. “But I have one rule.”

 

“Just one?” Kimi raises an eyebrow, and Ollie nods solemnly.

 

“You cannot win a Championship before Charles.”

 

“Eh? Mate! Am I not your boyfriend?!” Kimi asks, snatching his hand back from Ollie to put it on his chest in mock offense. “Would you leave me for Charles Leclerc?!”

 

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

 

Kimi removes the vials from his teeth and grabs a tissue to wipe away the remaining venom, before he cups his boyfriend’s cheeks and forces him to look at him. Ollie is giggling, a complete mess in his hands, and Kimi wonders if this was his plan all along.

 

“Orsachiotto, if you would leave me for Charles Leclerc then I will never cook for you again. You will have to eat your own eggs, hm? Covered in non-stick pan and regret!” 

 

Ollie gasps playfully, and Kimi grins.

 

And then he leans in, taking advantage of Ollie’s open mouth as he pushes their lips together and kisses him hungrily. In a country like the United Arab Emirates, and with such busy schedules between now and Sunday, Kimi can’t say how many more times in his life he’ll be able to kiss Ollie. So he doesn’t waste his time being bashful or chaste, he just kisses him. He kisses him and takes everything he can get. He tastes his tongue, he runs his fingers through his hair, he holds his body and tries to commit every part of him to memory. If there’s an afterlife, he wants to be able to spend his time thinking about Ollie.

 

When he pulls back it’s for several reasons. Because he needs to breathe, because he needs to eat his lunch, and because Sergi is knocking at the door and he’d rather not traumatise him in the same way he did his beloved spider.

 

“I’ll see you after practice?” Ollie asks as he tries to tidy himself up.

 

Kimi is busy licking his lips, swallowing Ollie’s saliva hungrily and nodding. He’s not sure just yet if that’s another one of the promises he’s destined to break, but right now he’d throw his plans for the weekend to one side entirely if it meant he could spend his last days in Ollie’s arms. He’d throw away the chance to go down in the history books of Mercedes if it meant Ollie’s flesh was under his fingertips, if it meant they were locked in a room with nothing but each other and their sweaty bodies, if it meant that he’d die in the warm embrace of his lover. 

 

He watches him go, a sense of disappointment filling him as Ollie’s body is replaced with Sergi’s. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see his trainer, rather just that he’s coming to terms with the fact that he might never get to feel Ollie’s lips against his again. 

 

In an instant, death becomes something real and tangible. It becomes something that feels inevitable. And the grief of what he will never have shakes him to his core.

 

+ + +

 

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
Saturday 06 December 2025

 

With Qualifying on the horizon Kimi’s mind needs to be sharp and focused, but frankly that couldn’t be further from the truth. Every meeting he sits in, he finds himself thinking about the people he’s going to leave behind. 

 

There’s Maggie, who’ll grow up without a brother. He wonders if he’s written down everything he’s ever going to want to say to her, everything she’ll need to hear from him. Maybe one day she’ll be fifteen and have a crush on a boy from school and he won’t be there to tell her to keep her wits about her. Maybe one day she’ll be nineteen and flipping across the stage at the Olympics and he won’t be there to scream her name at the top of his lungs when she wins the gold for Italy. Maybe one day she’ll be twenty three and decide to travel the world and he won’t be there to drive her to the airport, to embrace her too long before security, and to call her on Christmas Day when she’s sunbathing in Australia. There’s so much he can’t plan for, so many words he’ll never even think of that she might someday need.

 

There’s Ollie. God, Ollie. Ollie who he’s supposed to spend forever with, clashing on track and making love off. He’s given him a list of restaurants in Bologna he wanted to take him to, but one day Ollie will reach the end of that list and then what? Will he fall in love with someone else? For the sake of Ollie, he hopes so. Selfishly, he hopes not. Ollie is it for him, his first and last love. The idea that he might just be a piece of Ollie’s story makes his heart twist more than he cares to admit. He knows it’s wrong - Ollie can’t love a dead man forever - but he’s allowed to be greedy today of all days.

 

There’s Bono - sitting opposite him right now as he outlines how Qualifying is going to go. Kimi can barely hear the run plan as he thinks about what he’s written for his engineer. A thousand thank yous, and just as many apologies. Bono wanted to retire with Lewis, but he stayed for him. He’s been nothing but trouble the whole year and Bono has talked him through it all. Whether he’s been on the receiving end of abuse he didn’t deserve, or reporting floor damage back to already exhausted mechanics, Bono has been resolute in his kindness and servitude. Kimi doesn’t deserve half of what the man has done for him. It’s been a season, and he still has to be reminded to pull back on entry for better exits - his engineer must recite it in his sleep.

 

“Kimi, bud, you get that?” Bono asks, nudging his shoulder.

 

Kimi stares down at his notebook and the blank page in front of him, then nods his head even though he hasn’t listened to a thing. But then it’s hard to focus when you’ve got a little over a day left to live. 

 

“Yeah, thanks mate.”

 

Kimi closes his empty notebook and takes his headphones from his ears, squeezing Bono’s shoulder before he makes his way out of the garage and back to his driver room. With more than an hour still to go until the session starts, he’s got to find a way to fill his time and keep his mind occupied, otherwise he’s going to risk spiralling out of control. If he thinks that he feels bad now, then letting himself sit and think about what’s going on is only going to make it worse. There’s only so much that talking to his team can do now, none of that can totally alleviate the finality of death. 

 

He makes his way back to his driver room, which for once is blissfully empty, and he turns on the television to watch the Formula 2 Sprint race unfold. The title can’t be won today, but it can narrow. Leonardo Fornaroli and Luke Browning are the two that still have an outside chance to win tomorrow, but they have to do well today to guarantee that. Realistically, it’s between Alex Dunne and Arvid Lindblad. Kimi watches the screen above him, keeping a close eye on everything. The more he thinks about the race, the less effort he needs to put into keeping his mind in check. Instead he can focus on the battle between Max Esterson and Kush Maini - a battle for 19th place that ends with the two of them off the track and the safety car deployed. It’s terrible news for Luke and for Leonardo, who need every lap they can get to work their way back up into the points after a poor showing in their Qualifying session yesterday.

 

There’s a knock at his door, and Kimi looks towards it. Whoever is knocking doesn’t immediately come in, so that rules out Ollie, George, and Sergi. The only positive thing about his sister going missing is the fact that he doesn’t have to fake a smile when someone else walks in now, so he doesn’t bother to mask his expression.

 

“It’s open,” he shouts.

 

When the door opens, he’s greeted with a mess of blonde hair and a gaunt looking face. Doriane has well and truly seen better days, and the conversation in Las Vegas comes back to bite him. ‘I’m not dead yet’ was all she’d said, but by the looks of things she’s not too far from it.

 

Doriane clicks the door shut quietly behind herself and moves silently to sit at Kimi’s side. He watches her, saying nothing as she makes herself comfortable. She starts to clear her throat, and Kimi grabs his water bottle and hands it to her without question. Doriane tries, in vain, to stifle her spluttering, but eventually has no choice but to take the bottle and drink from it to soothe the tickling in her throat. Kimi’s eyes follow her the whole time, and guilt surges. 

 

“Have you spoken to anyone about this?” He asks her quietly.

 

“And say what?” She laughs. “My best friend is the Silver Spider, I think I got an antidote injected into me that’s killing me slowly? Ah, they’re more likely to put me in a mental hospital than a real one!” 

 

“So you’re just… Letting it hurt you?”

 

“Whatever happens, happens,” she shrugs. “I mean, are any of us going to be alive tomorrow evening?”

 

Kimi swallows. He didn’t think his pessimism was so widespread. 

 

“You will be,” he assures. “And Esteban, and Pedro, and Sergi. I won’t let anyone that’s helped me die, I don’t want anyone I care about to be hurt.”

 

“What about you?” She pokes, which makes him uncomfortable.

 

He casts his eyes back to the screen as the safety car pulls into the pits, and watches as Dino Beganovic makes a quick overtake on Ollie Goethe to claim P4. 

 

“You say you don’t want anyone you care about to be hurt, no?” She echoes his words back to him. “But you don’t say that you won’t let yourself die. Do you not care about yourself?”

 

Kimi can’t help the laugh that bursts out of his chest at that question. 

 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve cared about myself, Doriane,” he confesses. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll be dead tomorrow.”

 

Kimi keeps his eyes on the television whilst Doriane’s eyes burrow into him. If she says anything against him, he’ll throw it right back at her. If she cared about herself she wouldn’t care how ridiculous her story sounds, she’d go to a hospital and demand help. But she doesn’t protest, she just lets him sit with his words, and that almost makes him squirm more. 

 

“Tell Bono thank you for finding the new suits for us,” she tells him after a few minutes of quiet, pushing herself back to her feet. “Maybe it’ll be enough to keep all of us alive, eh?”

 

“Thank you, Doriane,” Kimi says, sitting a little more upright. “I… I don’t know if I’ve said it. If I have, I haven’t said it enough, you know? You’ve saved my life, several times. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. You’re a really good friend. A best friend.”

 

Doriane looks at him and swallows, her sunken eyes searching his face more deeply than he’d like them to.

 

“If you want to thank me, Kimi, then don’t die,” she insists. “Otherwise I saved you for nothing, no? I didn’t save you, I just delayed you dying.”

 

Doriane leaves before Kimi has the time to really consider her words and respond. He sits and thinks as he watches the end of the Formula 2 Sprint in his peripheral vision, and it’s Pepe Marti who takes the top step of the podium. He doesn’t finish processing Doriane’s request before Sergi shows up for his warm up, which means he’s quiet and distracted the whole time. But Sergi knows him well enough to know when not to pry any deeper, and so his exercises remain a subdued affair. 

 

Before long, it’s over, and he’s heading back into the garage and going through the motions of getting into his car. He tries to cherish each moment, tries to savour what it feels like to pull his balaclava over his head and to have hands reaching to strap his seatbelt across his body. Kimi wants to lean into the arms that surround him, he wants to let his mechanics hold him and stop pretending he’s anything but a scared little boy. He’s nineteen, with a thousand horsepower beneath him, web in his wrists and venom in his veins. He wants someone to pull him close and promise everything will be okay.

 

Instead, he’s waved out of the garage and joins the back of the queue in the fast lane as he goes for his first push lap. And it’s a good push lap. A great push lap, actually. He feels good about it as he trundles back around to the pits, until he hears Bono’s voice in his ear.

 

“Kimi, we’ve had a lap time deleted for track limits at Turn 1.”

 

He curses in his helmet as he watches the lap time disappear from his dash. He pushes a little more than he ought to in order to make it back to the pits, wanting to have enough time for two laps if he really needs it. He needs to make it out of Q1, he cannot be starting at the back of the grid if he wants to help his team win a title. The pressure is mounting, and it’s as if Bono can sense that when he’s sitting in the garage again because he’s back on the radio in an instant.

 

“Don’t sweat it mate, it was tight. A clean lap, you just needed to pull back a little more on entry.”

 

Kimi pushes up his visor and brings a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes and sighing. He’s better than this, he can do so much better than this, he’s not going to let the team down now. So as new soft compound tyres are bolted onto his car, he forces himself to breathe and visualise what he needs to do. He mimes lifting his hands, pressing on the pedals beneath his feet, and finds the movement he needs to replicate to tuck his car into the corner tight enough that he won’t lose a second lap.

 

He’s the first one back onto the track because of it, which is a dangerous position to be in. There’s every chance that he might not manage to get a third run in, and that he might get knocked out if the track evolution proves to be more than the team expect it to be. But it can be a good thing, too. If someone brings out a yellow or a red flag, he’s almost certainly going to be passed the incident and able to usurp those that are caught up in it.

 

That doesn’t matter though. He’s on the track, and right now he needs to perform to the best of his abilities. So he blocks out any thought that isn’t about tyres on tarmac and he accelerates hard, feeling g-force press against his body as he tries to resist it. After twenty three races and six Sprints, he’s tired. After a season of superheroism, he’s exhausted. His body wants a break, not to be thrown back and forth in his seat. But he pushes through the fatigue and forces himself to drive faster.

 

He tops the session. Whilst he doesn’t have the time to make it back around for a third push lap, he only drops as low as twelfth after track evolution boosts the times of his competitors. It’s nail biting stuff for the pit wall, but he doesn’t need to be P1 at the end of Q1. He’s through another session, and that’s all that matters.

 

It would help if he was in the top 10 for Q2, but a poorly timed spin from Lance Stroll and double waved yellows forces him to abort his lap. He’ll be starting his final race from 13th on the grid, and the weight on his shoulders is so much worse than it has been during any other disappointing Qualifying session. He knows he’s talented enough to fight back and score points for the team, but it’s now unnecessarily harder than it needs to be. Kimi sits in his car for a minute after he’s back in the pits, not quite ready to face the world. He knows the questions that will be asked of him - whether he should be racing at all this weekend, whether he’s let his emotions get the better of him - and he needs to prepare himself to weather that storm.

 

At least, once he’s out of the car, he’s got Sergi at his side to escort him to the FIA garage. At least he can keep his helmet on for the walk of shame down the pit lane, whilst engines rev up and drivers that have made their way through to Q3 get to go out onto the track again. At least he’ll be able to go back to his room and have some peace and quiet relatively soon.

 

But not just yet, because first he has to face the wide-eyed journalists in the media pen, scavenging for a headline at his expense. 

 

“Kimi, mate,” a voice calls, preventing him from approaching the cameras. 

 

He looks to his side and his expression softens, looking up at Esteban with something akin to relief that he’s dodged a bullet - though there’s still a firing squad trained on him. Esteban grabs his hand and squeezes tightly, reaching out to pat his shoulder with his other hand. He’s P11, but there’s no bad blood between them at all. Esteban is a good driver and an even better friend, he couldn’t hold out qualification against him.

 

“I haven’t seen you all weekend. I’m so sorry about Maggie. Is she…?”

 

Kimi nods his head. There’s too many hot microphones here to have a particularly detailed conversation about the matter.

 

“We’ll get her back, mate,” Esteban assures. “I promise. I got the thing from Bono, it looks good.”

 

He can tell Esteban is trying to hold back his excitement because of the reality of the situation, but Kimi knows he’s giddy beyond belief. Rather than the black, form fitting but relatively impersonal suit he’s worn when helping out before, the whole team have been given new suits. Kimi’s is the only one metal whilst the others more resemble Kimi’s original suit - though the detailing is unique to each person, and the suits themselves are much more durable. 

 

“Let’s hope we don’t have to use it,” he chuckles. 

 

It’s impossible. There’s no way that something doesn’t happen, not after all the build up that’s been going on in the background, but maybe there is a world where nothing happens tomorrow night. Maybe there is a world where he just quietly gets Maggie back, and where the world goes on turning without something fundamentally shifting. 

 

It’s a nice thought. A thought nice enough to get him through the media. And for now, that’s as good as things are going to be.

 

+ + +

 

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
Sunday 07 December 2025

 

Kimi spends the morning of his final day alive alone. 

 

In all honesty, he can’t stomach the idea of seeing other people. He’s not sure he’ll be able to keep himself composed, and he knows that if the media get a whiff of him being in anything but prime mental condition then they’ll poke and prod until he’s snapping at them and spilling the truth just to get them to shut up. But, as far as he’s aware, those he’s opposing don’t know what’s coming. They don’t know what Bono’s managed to bring all the equipment kept from them to the paddock and quietly disseminate to the team over the last few days. They don’t know that Kimi’s figured out the connections, even if he doesn’t know the reasons for those connections. They don’t know that the upper hand they think they have has faded to nothing. 

 

So Kimi wakes up when his alarm goes off, and he scrolls on his phone for ten minutes - swiping away the messages he’s been sent overnight in favour of looking at a few more reels on Instagram before he has to get up. He showers, body riddled with tension as he keeps his back to the water and tries not to hyperventilate, then drains his venom and brushes his teeth. He orders room service for breakfast and strips the bedding in the meantime. Technically the room is booked for the night, but dead men don’t need beds to rest in, and his mother taught him better than to leave housekeeping with more jobs than they strictly need to do. 

 

When his breakfast arrives he sits at the desk and picks at it, unsurprisingly lacking in his appetite. He knows he needs to eat, he needs calories to fuel him for the race and for the fight, but he’s far more focused on the final letter he still needs to write. He’s already written a dozen, for everyone he’s ever loved and everyone that’s ever touched his life in even a fractional sense. Anyone that’s ever smiled at him, or made him smile. He’s started giving them out to people where he can, with strict instructions not to open them until the evening. Kimi glances at the pile that’s already been addressed, the ones that will have to be circulated by his family when he’s gone. He hopes it isn’t too much work for them, hopes they’ll forgive him that even in death he’s giving them more things to do.

 

He wonders if he should reopen a letter to inspire him, but that feels wrong. The letters are personal, and individual. Whatever he’s written to his mother, or to George, or to Ollie, it has no bearing whatsoever on what he should tell Sergi.

 

The words ‘ Dear Sergi’ stare back at him, judging him harshly for being unable to figure out what to write next. It’s been troubling him since he started writing the letters in Qatar last week, he truly has no idea what he can possibly say. No words do their relationship justice. With Ollie, it’s simple - he loves him, completely and truly. With his sister, it’s easy - he wants to take care of her even after he’s gone. With Doriane, it’s natural - an apology that he failed to heed her words, that he’s dead despite her request not to make her actions in vain. But Sergi? How can he possibly hope to communicate everything he wants to for the man that’s been his carer, his protector, and his mentor for all these years? His life is so desperately intertwined with Sergi that he’s not sure he’ll be able to unravel it before he’s dead, even if he didn’t have to race. 

 

Even if he wasn’t dying for a year.

 

Kimi forces down his breakfast, the smoked salmon too salty and the scrambled egg too wet. And then he packs his bag, making sure he takes the letters with him. He’ll have to finish Sergi’s whilst he watches the Formula 2 race from his driver room, but for now he has to pull his mask back on and walk with his parents into the paddock. The excitement of his arrival is overwhelming, and he wishes he wasn’t important this weekend. Perhaps if it was just his missing sister, the journalists would’ve moved on from him already, but it’s not. It’s the Constructors’ Championship, it’s the fact that either George or Oscar is going to win the Drivers’ Championship today and Kimi is starting from P13, and he’s going to have to make quick progress through the field if he’s got any hope of supporting his teammate. 

 

He escorts his parents to Mercedes hospitality and leaves them both with a kiss on their cheek and a promise that their little girl will be safe in their arms before they go to sleep at night, and then he takes himself through to the garage to complete the necessary tasks that come with every race weekend. He talks to Bono, nodding obediently as they plot how he’s going to pass half the field and make sure he’s fighting with Oscar - who’s in a grid slot that doesn’t satisfy him at all. He takes notes of his strategy, of when to push and when to preserve, and then he bids his team farewell and disappears to his driver room. He’ll have a few hours without being disturbed now, which should give him time to finish his letter for Sergi.

 

Should, anyway. He finds that he is more stuck than ever, and that the Formula 2 race is exciting enough to keep him distracted. Alex Dunne is the one to take the crown, with Arvid as his runner up. And a last lap overtake from Leonardo is enough for him to tie Luke on points. On countback, he’s the one to take P3, and Kimi dutifully reposts on his Instagram story - a congratulations to Alex for winning the title, and for Leonardo as his fellow countryman. Without an Academy, he’s at risk of plateauing, but maybe such success in his rookie campaign will be enough for someone to back him for a second season and get him into a seat in 2027. He’s sure, in his absence, Italy will be crying out for another driver. Maybe Ferrari will take him in, though with Ollie and Dino on the grid it seems unlikely that there’d be room for him any time soon.

 

Kimi picks at his lunch as he watches the podium, struggling to eat as he had done before. He opens up the bag of Percy Pigs George has left in his room for him, eating a couple to give him the boost he needs for the driver parade. He takes his headphones with him and stands on his own, and the grid gives him the space that he so clearly needs. Ollie offers him a glance, and Esteban nods his head to try and encourage him to join them, but Kimi just sits on the sidelines and does everything he can to dodge the interviewer. He’s the first one off the truck when the parade is done, escaping back into his driver room and relishing the peace and quiet he gets. 

 

It’s peace and quiet that he puts to good use, sitting on the floor and meditating until he’s finally disturbed by his trainer. Kimi feels awful that the letter he’s managed to write is so sparse, but he knows that Sergi will understand. They go through his warm up as usual, starting with his neck and moving to his arms and his legs. He limbers up, and he feels loose and ready to go as he accompanies Sergi through to the garage to take his car to the grid. To everyone else around him, he’s the picture of normality. Now that he’s deep within his routine he’s been able to push the emotions he’s been feeling to one side - not to bury them entirely, but to focus on the task at hand. It goes as it always does. Helmet, gloves, seat. He completes a few reconnaissance laps and pulls up at the back of the grid, the team wheeling him forward to his lowly P13 grid slot. Everyone he’s supposed to be fighting is in the top 6, but within two laps he should be there. He needs to be ruthless today, more than ever before, and that mindset doesn’t just apply to the race itself.

 

Kimi goes through the motions like it’s just another weekend. He talks quietly to Bono about the track conditions, he sits by the grid and listens to his music as he amps himself up for the race, and he even smiles and talks to Martin Brundle when he passes by for his grid walk. In the back of his mind, he wonders if people might look back at that footage in twelve hours time and say he looked like he knew what was going to happen. If they’ll analyse how his eyes are glazed over and sad, and that no amount of smiling can really hide something like that. Maybe in twelve hours time people will already miss him, or maybe they won’t.

 

But he won’t be around in twelve hours time to find out.

 

After the anthem, Kimi pulls his balaclava over his head and feels the buzz of the crowd muffle around him. He pulls his helmet onto his head and stands still to allow Sergi to strap him in safely before helping him into the car. There’s no grand gesture, no fond farewell, just normality in the face of his inevitable demise.

 

Bono’s voice comes over the radio as he checks the systems are working, and Kimi moves through the different settings of his car as he waits for the formation lap. He watches the mechanics as they pull back the tyre blankets from his car at the last available moment, revealing soft walled tyres for the rest of the grid to see. It’s a statement. 

 

His clutch is on target and he feels good about his tyre preparation, the cars in front of him going slowly enough that he doesn’t have to take too much energy out of his tyres to keep within ten car lengths. As he makes his way through the final sector his heart rate skyrockets and he finds himself well and truly in the zone. Driving, racing, it’s in his blood. It’s what he was meant to do. And if this is the last time he’s ever going to get to do it, he’s going to have as much fun as possible. He’s going to enjoy the next ninety minutes. 

 

Kimi performs his allocated burnouts on the way to the grid and lines himself up neatly in his box, waiting for Bono to confirm when the final car is on the grid. The green flag is waved in the distance behind him and he focuses on the five red lights slowly illuminating above him. He doesn’t blink, or breathe, or move as he watches like a hawk. 

 

As quick as the five lights have flickered to life, they snap to darkness.

 

Lights out, and away they go. 

 

Kimi’s soft tyres give him more grip off the line, and he wastes no time at all in maneuvering around the cars around him. Jack Doohan’s Alpine first, then Esteban Ocon’s Haas, and before the end of the first lap he’s passed Yuki Tsunoda in the Red Bull for the final points paying position. It’s a start, but to win the Constructors’ Championship they need to outscore McLaren by 5 points. He needs to get further up the field if he’s going to do that. 

 

His progress is rapid over the first few laps, and he passes Fernando for P9, Ollie for P8, and Alex for P7. Lewis, in P6, puts up more of a fight, but Kimi perseveres. The laps tick by, and the life drains out of his soft tyres, but a risky move on the inside of Turn 5 is enough to make the difference. Kimi catapults himself ahead, and uses every last bit of grip his tyres can offer him as he builds as big of a gap as possible. Soft tyres means an early stop, but he pits into some decently clean air - ahead of a train beginning to form behind Carlos - which makes warming his hard tyres up an awful lot easier. 

 

As the field ahead of him reaches their pit window, Kimi moves forward. He’s P10, and then he’s P7, and a lap later he’s P3. With fresher tyres, it’s not a position he knows he comfortably holds, but it’s a good one nonetheless. George is in first, and he’s got a good gap between himself and Charles in second. Kimi finds himself wondering what on Earth has happened to the McLarens - even if they pit early, surely they should still be ahead of him - but he’ll take an olive branch from the universe. He doesn’t get many of those these days.

 

For a dozen laps, Kimi drives in isolation. He enjoys the feeling over every bump beneath him - something he’d usually loathe - and relishes in the strains his body endures. Racing has been his dream, his life, and he feels himself run wide as his eyes sting.

 

“That’s a strike for track limits, Kimi,” Bono’s voice chimes in helpfully. “First one, don’t sweat it. Gap to Piastri behind is 2.7.”

 

Kimi pulls himself together quickly, sniffling and blinking away his tears. Oscar’s now a whole second closer to him, and suddenly his wing mirrors are full of bright orange.

 

The way things stand, Mercedes win the Constructors’ Championship and Oscar wins the Drivers’. Kimi, really, should do the sportsmanlike thing and crash into the side of Oscar. If George maintains the lead, then they’d win both titles no matter what Lando can do. But Kimi is selfish, and he doesn’t want to end his Formula 1 career in the side of a McLaren. 

 

So he keeps his head down, and he crosses his fingers that something will happen. Maybe a backmarker will cause issues for Oscar, maybe someone else will crash and he’ll pick up a puncture, maybe he’ll do something he shouldn’t and get a time penalty. He closes in, and Kimi finds himself driving in his mirrors. Rather than cherish these last laps, he’s wishing them away faster. Oscar is closer and closer with every lap, and by the time they make it to the final tour of the circuit Oscar is in his DRS. Kimi does everything in his power to keep his position, even as Oscar shows no sign of letting up. 

 

As Kimi crosses into the final sector, the sky is filled with explosions. Not the Swarm - for once - but bright fireworks that sparkle and shimmer against the night. The race is over, and George has won. Charles snags second place, and Kimi holds onto third as he crosses the line. The effort of the race, mental and physical, washes over him, and he chokes on a sob as he slows down to pick up marbles and drive back to the pits. 

 

Mercedes are 14 points ahead of McLaren, and Oscar is 2 ahead of George.

 

Kimi’s done everything he needed to for the team, but there was nothing more he could do to help his teammate.

 

He thanks the team over the radio, like he knows he needs to do. He thanks them for their hard work all season, for supporting him no matter what, for giving him a brilliant car. His words are almost unintelligible through his thick accent and the tears that rapidly fall, soaking into the fabric of his balaclava, but the sentiment gets across. Bono says something in reply, but Kimi’s far too removed from the situation to hear his words. 

 

The race is over. The season is over. 

 

His time is up.

 

Kimi is unsteady on his feet when he clambers out of the car in Parc Ferme, and he’s almost worried he might sway and fall in front of the crowd that are watching. But he doesn’t, miraculously, and once he’s confident enough that his balance will stay he approaches his teammate to congratulate him on winning the race. George has already taken his helmet off and is standing with his head in his hands, and when he regards Kimi it’s with a bittersweet smile. 

 

The team have won their first Constructors’ Championship in years, and he’s clearly happy for the part he’s played in making that happen. He’s won a race, something else that he’s desperately proud of. But over the course of the season, it’s just not been enough. Kimi pulls him into his arms for a hug, patting his back and smiling up at him encouragingly. 

 

“Next year, it’s yours mate,” he says.

 

The words are his, and the voice is his own, but it feels so distant. Kimi squeezes George’s shoulder as he moves away - his teammate catching him by the hand and congratulating him on his podium - and then he goes about taking his helmet off (though he deliberately keeps his gloves on) before he mingles. There’s still interviews to be done, but proper manners dictate that he needs to seek out Oscar and congratulate him on a Championship well earned, and secret love dictates that he needs to find Ollie to shower him with praise for scoring more points and finishing the season eighth overall in the standings. 

 

Their interactions are only brief, both because of the fact that a nation like the UAE probably isn’t the best place for Kimi to get down on one knee and declare his undying love publicly, and because finishing on the podium means Kimi has obligations. He needs to be interviewed before making his way to the cooldown room and then onto the podium. At the same time, he needs to be prepared for anything. With the season over he’s aware that every second that passes is borrowed time, that at a moment’s notice everything could change, so he wanders back towards his team quietly and conserves as much energy as he possibly can. He grabs a bottle of water and turns to look at where Oscar, as World Champion, is already being interviewed, and dread surges through him.

 

Of course the man standing with a microphone in his hand is Nico Rosberg.

 

Exhaustion hits him, and Kimi curses under his breath. His body sags, and he feels a hand grab hold of his bicep.

 

“Woah, mate, are you alright”? 

 

Kimi straightens himself again as he looks to George, nodding his head and smiling.

 

“Just looking forward to winter break,” he laughs weakly, pulling his arm back. “It’s been a long season, eh?”

 

“You’re telling me,” George laughs with him. “You’ve not had to deal with a supervillain all season long. Do you have any idea how many late nights I’ve had fighting with the FIA to get us better protections?”

 

Kimi stares at him, smiling blankly, and he bites his tongue. He’s not really sure why, given it’s all going to be revealed in a few minutes anyway, but the fact that George - his teammate - is still hopelessly oblivious to the truth… Well, the absurdity of it all makes him laugh, even in the face of darkness. George is called forward for his interview after a few moments, and Kimi hangs back with Charles as he drinks his water and watches. The smile falls quickly from his face as reality sets back in.

 

He thought he might be lucky enough to be afforded half an hour to recuperate before having to fight a war that he almost certainly can’t win, but luck isn’t on his side. If Nico is here, then he has to assume that something is happening sooner rather than later.

 

Gradually, his face falls and he narrows his eyes at his old mentor. He doesn’t care how the photos of him turn out, or what people say about him online. He knows the truth, and it’s time - once and for all - to put a stop to it. He won’t let them keep his sister, he won’t let them hurt the people he loves, and he won’t let them destroy the world that, once upon a time, they sought to protect. 

 

And if it kills him, so be it. He’s prepared. He’s made his peace with it. 

 

Kimi’s mouth feels dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his bottle. The brief lull of adrenaline washing from his body after the chequered flag was waved has been overcome, and now he finds himself ready to go all over again. Despite everything, he feels ready to do this. As Charles lowers his microphone, Kimi puts his bottle down and takes a deep breath. He steels himself against anything that might happen and steps forwards as confidently as he can.

 

One last dance.

 

As he stands in front of Nico he decides that he’s going to take advantage of the fact that he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s going to do something to assert his dominance and make it clear that he’s ready. He peels his gloves off, one finger and a time. The right is nothing special, but the left reveals a dark streak colouring his palm and running along the veins of the back of his hand. Kimi registers that Nico raises an eyebrow and licks his lips, as if to ask if he really wants to reveal something like that, but it’s too late to go back on his decision. He tucks the gloves into his racesuit, and he stares at Nico.

 

Nico stares back at him.

 

The world around him feels silent, the cheers and shouts of the team and the crowd are replaced with a constant ringing in his ear. The rest of the world ceases to exist as he steps closer to Nico, standing on the white marker the media team have put down to make sure he’s in frame for the camera. Everything around him feels dark, his vision tunnelled on Nico and Nico alone. 

 

“Wow, Kimi, what a season you’ve had!” Nico says, his words enthusiastic and well prepared. “A podium after starting P13 is already impressive, but ending your rookie campaign with your eighth podium and a Constructors’ Championship must feel special, no?”

 

Kimi swallows and takes a deep breath as he nods. If they’re still performing, then he’ll keep reading from the script.

 

“Yeah, I mean, I had a couple of missed opportunities here and there across the season. I missed two races with this,” he raises his left hand and wiggles his mechanical finger, meeting Nico’s eyes deliberately. “Without that, I think P4 in the Championship was in reach. But I think I’m happy with my first year. There’s going to be a lot to look back on and reflect on with the team over the winter, but for now I just want to thank them for all their hard work.”

 

“Austria was your only DNF all season. Without that, you might’ve had Charles,” Nico encourages him. “And the finger, we both know how that happened.”

 

Kimi’s heart beats faster in his chest at that comment and he finds himself clinging even more tightly to the microphone between his fingers. He bites his lip and nods, wondering what the right thing to say is here. With his free hand, he pulls at the neck of his race suit and watches him uncomfortably.

 

“Do you want to tell the story, or shall I?”

 

Behind him there’s gasps, and Kimi feels a horribly sharp tingle in his wrist. Nico’s face is lighting up, and he flashes his too-white teeth at Kimi as he spins on his heels to turn his attention to whatever is happening behind him.

 

And he almost wonders why no one panicked sooner.

 

His world is no longer hyperfocused on Nico, and suddenly he can see everything. Mechanics, engineers, drivers, and team personnel stand shoulder to shoulder with the photographers, marshals, and FIA officials. They’re all staring, shifting backwards anxiously, watching as a by now all too familiar face wanders the length of the pit lane. Kimi shouldn’t be at all surprised that the Hornet is there, but he finds himself perplexed that he’s elected to wander in so plainly. He expected there to be more pizzazz, more showbiz, more umph. The Hornet rarely makes an entrance so muted, and yet his quiet walk still manages to be anything but. The world is quiet, silenced out of fear after their initial gasp of surprise, and Kimi finds himself standing a little taller as he holds his head up high and makes eye contact with the masked man.

 

The fireworks have long since stopped in the sky above them, leaving behind only the lingering smell of burnt black powder, but Kimi can spot something else in their absence. A dark shadow, twinkling with red and green lights, and his heart sinks. 

 

There are hundreds of people in the pit lane right now, maybe thousands. Some he knows personally, others he just recognises after a year of existing alongside them. There are tens of thousands of fans in the grandstands, watching on with baited breath. Millions of people live in the city, and plenty have nothing to do with the race weekend. Amongst those people are his friends, his family, Maggie. 

 

Kimi won’t let them win.

 

But, a man less concerned with the situation at hand than he is steps out from the crowd and strides forward confidently, though that isn’t entirely truthful. Because Mohammed Ben Sulayum is deeply concerned about the situation at hand. Not, as Kimi is, because he’s worried about the safety and wellbeing of millions of people, but because a supervillain targeting the final race of the Formula 1 season just a week before he’s hoping to get re-elected would be truly awful PR.

 

Kimi is far enough away that he can’t hear what’s happening, but he isn’t blind to the fact that the President is gesturing wildly, yelling with such ferociousness that phlegm is flying from his lips. He is angry, and animated, and after a moment - he is dead.

 

The Hornet waves a hand as the President approaches him and a single ‘bee’ descends from the Swarm. Red-eyed, Kimi notes with relief. It beeps for the briefest of moments, a split second warning offered to the spectators closest to the President. It might buy them half a second to duck and cover their faces, but it offers nothing to the angry man who’s approached him with far too much confidence.

 

Mohammed Ben Sulaymen dies with a spectacular explosion. The sound rocks the crowd, those in the pit lane scream and scramble to flee, and Kimi has no choice but to leap into action. He ignores the smoldering corpse, headless and missing the upper half of its torso: what used to be the President is charred beyond recognition and Kimi knows there’s no saving him. Instead he focuses on the people, and uses the microphone still in his hand to his advantage.

 

“Everyone, run!” He shouts.

 

It’s an obvious enough command, but for those who’ve succumbed to the freeze and flight instincts upon witnessing the explosion it’s enough to override their brains and catapult them into action. Haas staff run through the Mercedes garage, Aston Martin engineers flee through Alpine, and the immediate danger, now, is in the form of a stampede. Kimi’s in the awful position, as he often is, of having to decide which way to go. Does he help those that were close to the President, who have blood trickling down their faces from shrapnel lodged in their skulls and second degree burns down the lengths of their arms? Does he do his best to keep the number of victims from rising any further? Does he attempt to offer up a distraction without the protections offered to him by his suit?

 

When there’s another explosion, from another red-eyed ‘bee’ that’s descending into the pit lane, Kimi opts to try and hurry the crowds along. If they’re inside, they can find a place to shelter. An open space like this is ideal for the kind of havoc and destruction the Hornet wants to rain down on these people.

 

The crowd in the pit lane thins remarkably quickly, and so Kimi moves onto the second best plan: to make himself bait. He’s the one they want, so offering himself up on a platter means protecting the stragglers still desperately trying to make it inside.

 

He looks back to see where Nico is, but he’s gone. He’s too late to try and chase him down and tackle him whilst he’s weak, which means he needs to focus on the Hornet. The man in question is hovering above the pit lane, laughing manically as he sends down individual red-eyed ‘bees’ one by one, really stretching out his enjoyment of the terror he’s struck into these people. Kimi grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, and without a care left he raises one hand into the air and shoots out his web. 

 

Behind him, he can hear the shock and surprise make its way through the crowd, his name being yelled more than once, but Kimi ignores the fact that his secret is well and truly out and instead watches as the Hornet flaps his wings and moves to the side to dodge his web. He curses quietly, running out of the pit lane and through the barrier gate back out onto the finish line. He’s further away from people here, which keeps them safe, but he’s more exposed. As much as he’s made his peace with dying, he has to save his sister first.

 

“Where is she?” He demands, though the still desert air does little to help carry his voice.

 

“Oh, Incy Wincy, you are desperately predictable.”

 

Kimi growls, shooting up another web. The Hornet dodges it once again and laughs, his tone airy and mocking. He wishes he had his suit, wishes he could jump up to face him or shoot his web too fast for him to react. This is just infuriating, and he feels like food being played with. 

 

His attention is so narrowly focused on the Hornet that he almost misses the fact that his name is being shouted, and this time it’s by a voice so familiar that he has no choice but to turn around and groan. His teammate, standing on the podium, waving to try and get his attention. He wishes, desperately, that George hadn’t come back out - he was safe in the garage, in hospitality (or at least, safer) - but now he’s wandered out into danger all over again. Now Kimi has no choice but to shoot out his web and latch onto the podium, pulling himself up from the tarmac.

 

Just in time, too, as another red-eyed ‘bee’ explodes where he’d been standing. Maybe George isn’t such a fool after all.

 

He lands on the podium a moment later and stumbles forwards, coming to a stop in George’s arms as his teammate grabs hold of his shoulders to steady him. His eyes are wide, shock etched into the lines of his face as he starts to process exactly what he’s happening. Kimi pays him no mind, just grabbing him by the hand and pulling him as he starts to run back toward the cooldown room. 

 

“Kimi! Mate! Did you just–?!”

 

“Yes,” he declares emphatically. 

 

There are explosions behind them, red-eyed ‘bees’ descending and exploding sequentially. George is a dead weight behind him, frightened for his life, but Kimi has more than enough experience with hauling terrified civilians around and easily makes it back to the room. He swings the door open and throws George inside first, diving in after him and slamming the door shut. It’s not the kind of door designed to keep something like the Swarm at bay for long, but it’ll buy them a few precious seconds.

 

“Kimi, are you–?”

 

Seconds that he can’t afford to donate to small talk, no matter how much his teammate is inclined to disagree.

 

“The Silver Spider? Yes, I am,” he finishes his question and offers an answer in quick succession. “Stay inside, stay safe, and stay away from Toto.”

 

George’s face cycles through varying degrees of fear and confusion, before his mind manages to comprehend the last thing Kimi’s said to him.

 

“Toto? What’s wrong with Toto?”

 

Kimi elects not to answer, walking out of the room and quickly down the staircase. He needs to make his way back to his room and change quickly, before the Hornet can do any more damage, which means he has to ignore George calling after him and the rushed footsteps trying to chase him down. If he lives, he’ll explain everything to him. If he doesn’t, then it’s none of his business whether George has the full story or not. What is his business is finding his sister and bringing her home. 

 

The garages and adjoining buildings are filled with frightened people, so Kimi opts to head back outside as quickly as he can. Dying is the ultimate freedom, in a sense, because he pays no mind to the suicidal photographers who follow him to take a few photographs of him swinging through the air to make his journey back to his driver room faster. Somehow in the back of his mind, part of him appreciates the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair. The cool evening air is nice against his skin, still slick with sweat from the race, but that’s a thought he forgets about just as quickly as it occurs to him. He’s outside Mercedes hospitality in a few moments and he marches right back to his room. He’s so focused that he almost misses the fact that there’s anyone else there, and he doesn’t clock who they are until Kimi feels himself pushed against a wall and soft lips pressed against his.

 

Ollie. 

 

Kimi relaxes as he kisses him back, though the gesture is rough and desperate on his part. His fingers grab the front of Ollie’s Haas overalls firmly enough that he’s worried he might puncture the fabric, but he doesn’t care. He kisses his boyfriend like he’s the oxygen he breathes, he lets himself taste him one last time. He kisses him like it’s goodbye, and when he pushes Ollie away from him and continues walking he’s certain the man can tell.

 

At least he can breathe a sigh of relief that there’s no cameras around for this moment.

 

“Will you be safe?” Ollie asks hopefully, jogging alongside Kimi.

 

He doesn’t reply, opening up the door to his room and stepping inside instead.

 

“Will you come back alive?”

 

Again, it feels easier not to answer him. Either he can tell the truth, and Ollie will waste time trying to beg him to stay, or he can lie and Ollie will be furious with him at his funeral. 

 

Instead he just lets Ollie follow him into his room. He steps out of his race suit and strips down to his fireproofs, not bothering to remove the already skin-tight clothing as he turns to look at the metal suit that Ollie is now gawking at. It shines under the lights of the room, the sand marks buffed out and cleaned, leaving it looking good as new. The mechanical legs are still attached, and the crossbow and shield are hooked onto the waist. Beside the terrible excuse for a bed is a quiver of explosive arrows, and Kimi silently thanks his trainer for preparing everything for him during the race.

 

Kimi approaches the suit and watches it open up for him, stepping inside as soon as he can. He can feel Ollie’s eyes on him the whole time, though he tries desperately to ignore it. Forever flashes in front of his eyes, and he almost considers giving into his selfish urges, taking Ollie’s hand and running. But he doesn’t. He presses himself back against the protective shell and watches his boyfriend without allowing a trace of emotion to cross his face. Ollie, by contrast, is full of it. His eyes are worried, his hands are clasped in front of him, and as the suit starts to close around Kimi he steps forward quickly - pressing one more chaste kiss to his lips.

 

“I love you,” Ollie whispers earnestly.

 

Kimi feels his lips twitch, curving up into the hint of a smile for the briefest of moments, but he doesn’t have time to respond. Not when his vision is obscured by the closing metal plates of his mask, not when the suit is locking around himself, not when–

 

Not when he feels something prick his shoulder. 

 

A familiar chill floods his body, his heart beating with such force that it surges through him in no time at all. Kimi feels it wash over him, from the tips of his fingers to his heart and his brain. His lungs tighten briefly, and he’s haunted by a feeling deep inside his mind. A darkness that he thought had been expelled from his body for good, but has now been reawakened. 

 

<Oh, this is nice, you’ve had some upgrades!>

 

The voice in Kimi’s head terrifies him, there’s no way to get around that, and now there are two countdowns he’s fighting against. The first ticking away until the moment he dies, and the second towards the moment he is no longer in control of his own body. He recognises the feeling rushing through him, and for a brief moment it gives him hope that it might give him the upper hand to fight against it. But as it pulses through his veins and spreads through his body, he realises with horror that it recognises him too. The field of play is frighteningly even, and it’s going to take all of his mental strength - and more - to be able to resist it. With time seemingly more of an enemy than it was just a few moments ago, Kimi is forced to storm away from Ollie without another word, grabbing the quiver of arrows as he goes. He hopes his boyfriend will remain in his driver room, safe and sound, but in the meanwhile his focus needs to lie on fighting with whatever time he has left.

 

This is his final stand against the Hornet, and the Wasp, and the Swarm… And Toto. 

 

He’s only got one shot, with an ever narrowing window of opportunity.

 

<I think it’s cute that you think you have any chance at all!>

 

Kimi ignores the words that are meant to belittle him and makes his way out of hospitality and back towards the track. Marshals and officials are doing what they can to get teams to safety, and so Kimi stays out of their way by moving through the sky. He swings over the hospitality building and over the pit lane, landing on the gantry that hangs over the track. Everything seems too quiet, the last people leaving the grandstands in a somewhat orderly fashion, and Kimi feels desperately unnerved. Not knowing where his enemies are is a far worse fate than having to fight them.

 

At least he doesn’t have to wait too long for them to reintroduce themselves.

 

“My, my, Antonelli,” the sing-song voice of the Wasp teases him from below. “Where did you get something like that? You wouldn’t have stolen it, would you?” 

 

Kimi drops down, his suit easily cushioning his body from the fall, and he makes eye contact with the Wasp. And then he looks down.

 

“Maggie!”

 

He lunges forward, trying to snatch her away, but Maggie doesn’t seem to be there. Instead, Hummingbird flicks her hands dismissively and the armour covering her shoulders folds away into the two recognisable birds. They flit through the air and fly over the grandstand, before emitting a dense, glowing fog. Kimi stumbles back two steps as he realises what she’s done, and he watches in horror as those still trying to run fall to the ground, unconscious in a radioactive cloud as the Geiger counter on Kimi’s display spikes.

 

<She’s good… Maybe we don’t need you!> 

 

Panic sets in once more and those not yet claimed by the fog - an ever decreasing number from the last few hundred spectators still trying to leave - scream. They panic. They inhale more of the toxic gas. Kimi sees a flash of silver and blue in the grandstand, and ascertains based on the height of the figure that Esteban has been the one conducting the evacuation. Kimi goes to yell at him to hurry up, but before he can get the chance something is exploding next to him and he’s being thrown to one side.

 

His newer suit is tougher, more resilient, but Kimi is caught off guard nonetheless by the ‘bee’ exploding beside him, and once he stumbles it’s easy for the Wasp to take advantage of his momentum. In the blink of an eye he’s close, too close, and Kimi is defenseless as three blows hit him in quick succession. One to the gut, the next his head, and the third behind his knee. The suit absorbs the shock of the blow and leaves him unharmed, but he’s still desperately unstable and the final kick is enough to send him to the ground. Kimi is quick to try and get back to his feet, but the Wasp is already wielding his own crossbow and aiming straight for him. 

 

Too late. An arrow comes from the side - from Esteban - and explodes as it flies between Kimi and the Wasp. Now they’re equally disoriented, and neither of them have the advantage. A quick glance over his shoulder, as Kimi reaches for his crossbow, confirms that Esteban is using his web to swing towards them. As far as Kimi’s concerned, that makes this fight two against one. But Hummingbird seems far less interested in being entirely discounted and she shoots towards Kimi with gnashing teeth. They’re sharp, like the Hornet’s pincers, but not sharp enough to substantially pierce the metal of his suit. Instead they grate against it, and Kimi tries desperately to grab at her, but her wings begin to beat and carry her away as the Wasp engages Esteban directly. 

 

“Maggie, please!” Kimi beseeches.

 

<Why would she listen to you? If you try to resist me, then you’re her enemy.>

 

“Shut up,” he snarls. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the Wasp sending red-eyed ‘bees’ toward Esteban and he reaches for his crossbow to aid, but Hummingbird won’t let him go that easily. She returns to him, raising her hands as clawed fingers scratch desperately at his chest. 

 

<Let me help you.>

 

Kimi jerks his arm, swiping at Hummingbird until he manages to connect with her torso and send her hurtling backwards with more force than he’d like to acknowledge. His eyes widen behind his mask, and he falters in his attack on the Wasp as a result.

 

<Much better, hero>

 

“Maggie!”

 

“A little help here, Kimi–!” Esteban pleads over their communication channel. 

 

He’s pinned down on the tarmac, the Wasp standing over him, foot pressed firmly to his chest to hold him in place as he practically juggles his ‘bees’. Much like the Hornet, the Wasp is just as interested in having fun as he is winning this battle. Kimi glances back to his sister, lying on the track as she attempts to regain her composure, before he focuses back on the Wasp. He doesn’t know what part of him made the decision to turn away from her, and he doesn’t want to find out.

 

Kimi loads and shoots his crossbow as quickly as he can. One, two, three arrows, exploding in close proximity to the Wasp to draw his attention away from Esteban. As he flounders, his head snaps round to face Kimi and Esteban takes the opportunity to get back to his feet.

 

“Thanks, buddy!”

 

“Any time, Daddy!” 

 

“I know this isn’t the time, but did I really hear that right?” Bono asks.

 

<What’s this? Another voice in your ear? I don’t think you need to listen to him.>

 

Kimi raises one hand in front of his mask as the Wasp’s wings begin to beat and he takes to the sky. He swipes with his fingers to navigate through the menus available to him until he finds the one that connects him to Bono and Esteban. With the wave of his hand, he changes to a totally different channel, and he’s completely alone in his suit. At least, alone as he can be with another voice inside his head.

 

<Much better, wouldn’t you agree?>

 

He grits his teeth and growls, and his focus turns to Esteban. To the hero beside him who’s forced him to call him the most ridiculous name. Daddy. What kind of a superhero calls another man Daddy?! He loads his crossbow again, and this time he turns it on his ally - or his enemy - and he shoots.

 

It whizzes past Esteban, lodging in the tarmac before exploding and sending tyre marbles and chunks of rock into the air. He can see that his friend - or his foe - is gesturing wildly towards him, but Kimi can’t hear a word. Not of Esteban’s voice, anyway, his own is deafeningly loud in his ears.

 

<Oops, I should’ve aimed better.>

 

The next shot is destined for Hummingbird, whose wings have crunched and morphed into disrepair. She can’t flit away from the shot, but Kimi yanks his arm at the last moment and the arrow is sent hurtling into the air. It arcs through the night sky, detonating high above him, and Kimi feels his arm move again - independently of his command. This time, the loaded crossbow is pointed directly at his head.

 

<I wonder how well constructed this suit is. Shall we find out?>

 

“No!” Kimi yells at the top of his lungs.

 

He flings the crossbow carelessly across the track and wrangles with the quiver of arrows over his shoulder, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the ground. As he waves his arms around with such ferocity, something new happens. There’s a thrum of noise, a collective buzz, and a group of ‘bees’ coalesce around him. Kimi raises his hand, and they ascend. He closes one hand into a fist, and they congregate in a much smaller area. He doesn’t know how exactly he’s managed to do this, but as he looks up to where the Wasp is hovering - wings taking him incrementally higher - he conjures up a plan. 

 

A stupid plan, which gives him confidence that it’s his plan and not the voice in his head.

 

Kimi holds both hands in front of himself and closes them each into fists, two small clusters of red- and green-eyed ‘bees’ forming in front of him. And then, with all the confidence in the world, he steps up with one foot, then the other.

 

His suit is great, but it’s not so great that he can fly. What he can do, apparently, is ride the ‘bees’. 

 

Without knowing how much time he’s got where he’s fully in control of himself, Kimi lifts one leg higher and raises the corresponding arm, using his two groups of ‘bees’ to slowly but surely leave the ground behind. He’s vaguely aware of the eyes on him, the Wasp watching on with amusement and Esteban below unsure if he should be afraid or supportive, but Kimi keeps ascending. Foot by foot, step by step, the track gradually becomes more and more of an outline. The Wasp keeps rising, which means Kimi has to keep following him, and he realises just how dangerous that is. He has no idea how high of a fall the suit can protect him from, but he crosses his fingers that it’s higher than he currently is.

 

<Look at the world from up here… Isn’t it beautiful?>

 

The voice in his head speaking to him is never a good sign, and so Kimi refuses to acknowledge it. Even a statement as ambivalent as that is something that can be twisted at a moment’s notice, and if he engages that gives it something to latch onto. He has to ignore it to fight it, if he listens then that only makes it easier to win. 

 

<The cold shoulder? Really? After all we’ve been through together?>

 

He grits his teeth, focusing on the Wasp who still seems to be above him. Kimi climbs further, to the point where it feels as if the twinkling lights in the city beneath him are just as far away as the stars that shine down on him from above. It’s disorienting, and for a flash he’s not sure if he’s looking up or down.

 

<I’d like you to pay attention to me, Andrea!>

 

Kimi still ignores the voice, and he pays the price. One arm moves down swiftly, and he feels the platform of ‘bees’ disappear from below him. He lurches to the side, trying to anchor himself on the other conglomeration of ‘bees’, but there just aren’t enough to support his weight. They dissipate, and Kimi falls right through them.

 

He throws his hand up instinctively, the ‘bees’ rising once more as he shoots out his web with the intentions of fastening himself to the Wasp. Kimi tries to draw himself up along his web, but when he moves through the curtain of drones he collides with enough force that he sets off an explosion.

 

The first is a red-eyed ‘bee’, and that’s fine. It sets off a chain reaction of its kind and shrapnel pelts the back of Kimi’s suit, but it’s still okay. Everything is okay until that chain reaches a green-eyed ‘bee’.

 

In an instant, Kimi’s world turns upside down. Even with the improved protection of his suit, he feels the heat of the explosion and watches alarms and warnings flare up on the screen in front of him. The force is so strong that it severs his tie to the Wasp and he’s flung diagonally by the small mushroom cloud that billows behind him. Sweat builds on his brow, on his back, on his arms. His whole body feels slick and wet, his mind well and truly scrambled. 

 

He screams in his suit, unable to keep the noise inside of him as his body flails desperately whilst he flies through the sky, though with how loud the ringing in his ears is he can’t hear it. Kimi watches helplessly as his vision slowly reduces to nothing, the cameras shutting down and rendering him totally blind. He navigates the world through nothing more than the feeling of the air around him. He doesn’t know if he’s floating or falling, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to land on concrete with a crunch or on dirt with a thud.

 

After a lifetime, the conclusion is given to him. He lands not with a crunch, or a thud, but with a splash. 

 

The sound sends a wave of anxiety over him, and he thrashes his arms intensely as he tries to propel himself upward. He’s sinking deeper down, though, and nothing he does seems to stop that. His suit is heavy, it’s not made to float, and in the darkness Kimi feels himself being pulled closer to the bottom of… A river? An ocean? He’s not quite sure. He doesn’t know how much of an oxygen supply the suit has, which means he has no idea how long until he starts to choke on his own carbon dioxide. Hell, he doesn’t even know if that’s still a system that works given he’s just been subjected to a nuclear blast! And, if the explosion has flung him far enough that he’s in the ocean, he has no idea how much pressure the suit can sustain. Could he sink low enough that the metal would start to buckle? Could he go out not with shallow breaths, but with a dramatic crumple?

 

The flickering of a pale blue light before his eyes indicates that his suit seems to have recovered - rebooted - after the blast took it out, and images start to appear before Kimi again. It’s still dark, suffocatingly so, but his suit’s systems come back online in a piecemeal fashion and he soon watches that dark image change to a brighter one - night vision allowing him to make out his surroundings. He’s in water, that much is true, but he can see the bottoms of yachts and he realises almost immediately that he’s in the marina. It’s not deep at all - barely more than five metres - and with his suit now back online when he kicks his legs he finds that he does begin to rise. He brings his arms together in front of his chest, then reaches up and out as his swims breaststroke ever closer to the surface. 

 

He can do this. He won’t drown. He isn’t going to die: not now; not like this. 

 

When Kimi bursts through into the cool night air, he looks upon a world that is on fire. Whilst the green-eyed ‘bee’ exploded high above the city, that’s not enough to have substantially reduced the effects on the infrastructure. By the looks of how widespread the destruction is - damaged buildings, flaming yachts, and scattered debris - Kimi ascertains that the first chain reaction of red-eyed ‘bees’ triggered a second chain reaction in the green-eyed ‘bees’. He’s not looking at the result of one explosion, but of several. 

 

He pulls himself out of the marina, water sizzling and evaporating from the surface of his suit as he manages to stand upright on dry ground once again. Kimi looks over his shoulder, down at the water, and realises something wonderful.

 

He survived.

 

It’s not surviving the nuclear explosion that’s impressed him, with the design of his suit he considered that to be a given, it’s the fact that he’s been thrown into the water and swam out, and he’s still alive. His lungs are full of air: beautiful, filtered, fresh air. For the first time in months, Kimi emerges from the water confident, and he takes that confidence with him as he runs to rejoin the battle against the Wasp. At least now, with the Swarm having self-destructed, there’s one less thing for him to worry about.

 

<But you’ve still got me, Andrea!>

 

Kimi tightens his jaw and steels his mind against the voice in his head, pressing on. He swings through the paddock, past the hospitality building now missing a roof and a series of inflamed trucks that’ve been particularly badly damaged by a green-eyed ‘bee’ that exploded closer to the ground, and quickly back towards the grid. Unsurprisingly, it’s the most damaged part of the track. The grandstands have been flattened by overpressure from the explosions, and the gantry has collapsed onto a track that’s melted away. 

 

There’s nothing more horrifying than realising that, at the centre of such carnage, he can still see the shape of a human.

 

He sprints, using his webs to catapult himself quickly towards the front of the grid, and he crosses his fingers that he might find the Wasp there. It would be a delicious irony if he was thwarted by his own Swarm. But as Kimi nears the remains of the gantry, he instead finds himself face to face with a partially liquefied suit that had once been black, silver, and teal. 

 

<Oh, did you do that? Very good…>

 

The voice in his head purrs, and Kimi lifts his hands in front of him to adjust the channel back to the one it was on before. 

 

“Esteban!” Kimi shouts as he rushes closer to him. 

 

There’s no reply, which only serves to make Kimi feel worse. Maybe it’ll be okay, maybe Esteban’s communications have just been damaged the same way his were… But maybe that isn’t the case. Maybe he’s dead and Kimi’s let him down. Maybe Kimi hasn’t fulfilled his duty as a superhero and he's let his friend die.

 

“Esteban, mate, you're okay, right?” He calls.

 

Kimi falls to his knees and skids across the unsettlingly smooth ground, not sure if he's begging the universe for another favour or if he's talking to the man on the floor beside him. There's no response, nothing at all, and he fears the worst. He leans over his friend, reaching for his arm, terrified for what he's going to find as he runs his fingers towards his wrist. He knows he won't be able to feel a pulse through the tough metal exterior of his suit, but he tries on instinct anyway.

 

Not that it matters, when a simple touch is enough for Esteban to jerk away from him. It startles Kimi and he jumps back, but the moment his brain catches up with what's going on he gasps with relief and throws himself forward to envelope the man in a careful embrace.

 

“Ahh! Kimi! Too much, it's sensitive!” 

 

Kimi pulls back swiftly, wincing a bit at just how loud Esteban's voice is. He examines his friend visually for any severe injuries. There's burns, but that's a given. With how close he was to the centre of the blast he’s been exposed to ridiculously high pressures and a nuclear fireball, and he doesn’t know just how much Esteban’s suit was tested in such extreme conditions.

 

“Hello? What’s happened? Am I dead?!”

 

Esteban’s voice is frantic and loud, and his words only serve to make him more panicked.

 

“No, no, mate you’re not dead!” Kimi tries to reassure him.

 

But it does nothing. Esteban’s body still moves around and his cries are borderline hysterical. 

 

<He can’t hear you.>

 

The voice in his head supplies. Despite its gloating tone, the words are useful. It helps him to understand. This time, he does engage.

 

“Why not?” He asks, sitting back on his knees as he tries to search for the answers, to figure out how to help his friend. 

 

<What do you think happens to someone’s ears that close to a nuclear blast?>

 

Behind his mask, his eyes widen, and Kimi feels sick to his stomach. 

 

“Oh, Esteban,” he whispers softly.

 

Kimi, truly, wants to stay with his friend and help him. He owes it to him. But he can’t. The Wasp is still out there, somewhere, and so is the Hornet, so is Toto. He gets to his feet, surveying his surroundings. He’s not been attacked whilst he’s been at Esteban’s side, which tells him that the Wasp has either died in the nuclear explosion, he’s incapacitated, or he’s made a run for it. He hopes, given the distinct absence of his sister, that the latter is true.

 

“Bono, do you know where the others are?” He asks. “Someone with a suit needs to help Esteban. He’s alive, but burned, and eh, mate, he cannot hear anything!”

 

<You’re just going to leave him?> The voice in his head taunts. <You did this to him. You started that chain reaction. And now you’re going to leave him?>

 

Kimi takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus. He’s asked Bono to find the others to send someone to help Esteban, which means he’s done his duty to the man. Now he needs to do his duty to his sister - and, incidentally, the rest of the world.

 

He doesn’t have to go far to find the Wasp.

 

He’s deeper in the crater that’s been left by the explosion, groaning quietly underneath the collapsed gantry. Whilst Esteban was close to the blast, the Wasp seems to have been on ground zero. At least one of the ground zeros, anyway. His suit has kept him alive, but the result of multiple fireballs and overpressurising blasts is that it barely matters. Despite that, Kimi elects to grab his shield from his side as he approaches, taking every precaution he has available as he draws closer to the villain.

 

The Wasp doesn’t see him, writhing about pathetically in agony, and Kimi knows he has a choice to make. He can walk away now, and let his suffering last as long as possible - a fate that would be well and truly deserved after all that he’s done. Or he can kill him quickly. He breathes heavily, shoulders rising and falling as he’s presented with the task of deciding how Nico Rosberg dies.

 

To let him suffer would be just, to kill him quickly would be a relief. Does a man like Nico Rosberg deserve relief after what he’s done to others? To the thousands of people that have lost their lives, their homes, their livelihoods because of him? But if he elects to let him suffer, is there a chance that he might pull through? If he tries to punish him suitably, could he live and recover, come back with a vengeance?

 

<You should make it personal.>

 

Kimi lowers his shield and straightens his posture, stepping forwards and crouching down beside the twisted figure of the Wasp. His suit is badly deformed, and Kimi extends his arms to reach for his mask. He tugs, but it doesn’t budge. All that happens is the man beneath him howls in agony, and Kimi’s eyes widen. 

 

The mask has fused to his face, there’s no taking it off. There’s no moment where he can look upon his mentor’s face one last time, no opportunity for Nico to look up at him with remorse. All that exists now for the man he once thought he knew is pain and suffering beyond anything else imaginable. And Kimi can’t help but let him experience that for a few more moments. He pulls at his mask again, he makes him scream louder, and with time the incoherent wails become something more solid and tangible. Something he can understand.

 

“Just do it! Let me die!”

 

He’s begging. Begging for death. Begging for an escape.

 

“Did you ever grant your victims mercy?” Kimi snarls, snapping his teeth in his suit as he leans closer. “Did you ever listen to their pleas?”

 

But Nico cannot hear him. Much like Esteban, being so close to the explosion has broken his body. He’s burned, he’s blinded, and his ear drums have burst. Kimi, therefore, reasons that he’s speaking on instinct when he manages to cough out a few raspy words. 

 

“You’d be nothing… Without me… Did you really think… You were a natural?”

 

He doesn’t understand what he means, but the fact that he’s insinuating his success is based on Nico rather than himself… It infuriates him. And that’s all the excuse that Kimi needs to reach out with his hands again and place them firmly on either side of his face. He twists, swiftly, until he hears something crack. It reverberates between his fingers, and he feels the snap in his own bones. It feels… Delightful. When he drops him, the sound of his skull against molten tarmac echoes in his mind. 

 

Nico isn’t breathing anymore.

 

<Oh. Very good. Well done, hero.>

 

Kimi feels something blossom in his chest, warm and inviting. He’s desperate for more, and he wants to give in. He wants to sink into his impulses that feel so good, he wants to allow himself to spiral further. He feels powerful - he is powerful - and he could do anything he wanted. The rational side of his brain pulls him back from the edge, though, and Kimi stumbles away from Nico’s body. He gulps down as much oxygen as he can, turning around to spot his friends not too far from him. Esteban is being lifted into Sergi’s arms, Doriane and Pedro by his side, and his mind returns to himself. To the task at hand.

 

He jogs to join the group, the sound of his suit drawing their attention.

 

“Has anyone seen Maggie?” He asks. “She was here, and now she’s gone. Her suit, it is like the Wasps but purple and small,” he gestures with one hand to demonstrate Maggie’s approximate height.

 

Pedro is the one to nod his head.

 

“The Hornet was carrying her away,” Pedro explains.

 

“We didn’t engage him,” Doriane clarifies. “We didn’t want to take any risks with her.”

 

Kimi’s heart pounds rapidly in his chest, but he nods. Thinking about his sister makes the voice in his head substantially quieter, and maybe if he can just keep her in focus then everything will be okay. He’s sure there’s still some antidote he can find once all this is said and done, he just needs to hold on long enough to get it done.

 

“Bono?”

 

“Yep, I heard that mate, just looking for her,” he confirms. 

 

“I’ll get Esteban instead,” Sergi tells the group. “As soon as I’ve found someone to help him, I’ll join you.”

 

The trio nod, and Sergi goes on his way, trying his best not to jostle Esteban too much as he walks quickly with him inside. Kimi takes this moment as an opportunity to pick his crossbow and arrows up from the floor, though he finds himself holding the weapon with an extraordinary amount of guilt. The idea that he could possibly have used it against his friends weighs heavily on his chest.

 

<Don’t worry, there’s still time. You’ll give in to me, you know how much stronger you could be if you just listened.>

 

Kimi refuses to listen until the voice in his head is replaced by Bono.

 

“Empty hospitality suite above the FIA garage,” he relays. “She’s got company.”

 

It’s not a surprise. If the Hornet took her, then the Hornet is almost certainly still with her. At least they’re going into this battle with man power on their side.

 

“Come on,” he beckons Doriane and Pedro to follow him, before addressing Bono again. “My parents, do you know where they are, mate? Are they safe? Can you find them and tell them that I’m bringing Maggie back?”

 

He hopes they weren’t caught up in that first explosion of a red-eyed ‘bee’, he hopes they’re hiding in Mercedes hospitality where they’re safe and sound, he hopes that Bono doesn’t have to radio him in a few minutes to deliver the news that he might have saved his sister, but they don’t have parents to return to.

 

<If he says something like that, you should kill him. It would be therapeutic.>

 

Kimi shakes his head forcefully as he leads his group forward, listening to Doriane coughing behind him as Pedro places a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Mate, are you okay?” 

 

“I’m fine,” he says, the words coming out more harshly than he intended them to.

 

Nothing more is said as they make their way down the desolate pit lane. Everything here is in pieces, with charred remains of those that had dared to venture out - or had simply never managed to escape - plentiful. The part of hospitality that’s had the roof collapse is filled with screams, groans and moans of agony as an overcrowded room is crushed under the weight of steel and corrugated iron. He doesn’t know if there’s any saving those people, but he has no choice but to place his faith in his fellow man. To deviate now would be to allow the Hornet more time to do as he pleased with his sister. It might give him time to collect himself and escape, to plan another attack. 

 

“You two go and find Maggie,” Doriane tells them. “I’m going to help upstairs.”

 

Kimi nods his head, and he’s relieved that she’s suggested it. Two against the Hornet is still enough to outnumber him, and it takes the burden of the moral trolley problem from his shoulders.

 

<She’s the weakest anyway, she’d only slow you down. If you’ve any luck, the ceiling will collapse on her too.>

 

As Doriane runs in the opposite direction, Pedro falls into step alongside Kimi, and they make their way into the FIA garage at the far end of the pit lane. There’s an unspoken agreement to remain silent as they cross into the unused facility next door, doing everything they can to keep the element of surprise as they avoid old, squeaky flooring and creaking door hinges. It’s difficult when every footstep echoes in the large empty spaces, but it’s no reason to stop trying. Not when Maggie’s life is the one at stake.

 

The further they travel through the facility, the stronger the tingling in Kimi’s wrist feels. It’s strange that even with all this technology at his disposal he still relies on his gut, but his gut has never steered him wrong so far. And right now, as they emerge into what will likely be Cadillac’s main suite to host VIPs next season, his gut is telling him to walk forward and step through a door into an adjoining room. 

 

Kimi looks at Pedro beside him and nods, and his friend nods back. His understanding is implicit, their communication so flawless after years of working together that he doesn’t have to say a word, or even show his face, for his message to be comprehended. 

 

He approaches the door first, his hand on the door handle, and he takes a breath. His gut hasn’t led him astray yet, and he can’t risk wasting time looking for an alternative way in. A door might be obvious, but it also comes across as non-threatening. Whatever happens next, the situation has to be handled delicately. He cannot do anything to risk Maggie’s life, and if that means he has to let the Hornet think he has the upper hand even for a moment then he’ll do it. He’d let the world burn for her. 

 

<That can be arranged.>

 

Kimi ignores the voice and pushes down the handle, stepping inside the room with an air of confidence that he hopes will put himself on the same level as the Hornet. Instead, he feels something tangle around his leg and he trips. His body jerks up and collides with Pedro’s, and Kimi finds that rather than stand shoulder to shoulder with the Hornet he’s dangling above him. He’s tangled in a web, limbs intertwined uncomfortably with those of his old engineer, hanging helplessly from the ceiling. The two men groan, trying to shift so legs and arms aren’t in such awkward positions, but there’s nothing they can do to rectify their situation. 

 

“You made that easy, Incy Wincy,” the Hornet drones.

 

Both Kimi and Pedro turn their attention to the other side of the room, where the voice is coming from. Accepting that he’s stuck for the time being, Kimi elects to instead examine his surroundings and start to form a plan to get out. Up here, he’s going to be no use whatsoever to his sister. 

 

His sister, who’s sitting alongside the Hornet. She’s restrained, just as he is, though rather than being in the air she’s firmly on the ground. She, too, is surrounded by web. Maggie is still in her suit, but her mask is no longer covering her face. Her head is hanging forward, hair covering her face, but from how still she is it’s difficult to assume that she’s awake. For a moment, he wonders if he might already be too late, if she might already be dead, but that would make no logical sense. If she were dead, why would she be tied up? If she were dead, what use would she serve - either as a hostage and a bargaining chip, or as an assistant. The Wasp is dead, the Hornet needs someone on his side if he plans on trying to retreat and reconfigure. 

 

It doesn’t make Kimi feel any better about the fact that he’s got her, though. Somehow, he’s got to tread the difficult line of getting her back and not provoking the Hornet into using her against him.

 

“Tesoro!” He shouts, unsure if it’s the wrong move or not.

 

“She can’t hear you,” the Hornet tells him, projecting his voice as he commands the room.

 

It’s dark, save for a few lights that he’s set up. Bright LEDs pointing directly at her silhouette her from behind, and he and Pedro are cloaked in darkness. He assumes the Hornet doesn’t need any light to be able to see them, or perhaps he simply doesn’t care enough to look at them.

 

That is something that could work in his favour.

 

“Maggie, it’s Andy!” He shouts again anyway, not caring for the Hornet’s words.

 

The villain rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by the fact that he isn’t being listened to. 

 

“I told you, she can’t hear you,” he growls, taking a step closer to Maggie.

 

“Don’t go near her!” Kimi’s voice booms, louder than even he expects it to. “Look, we can talk, no? But if you so much as touch her, then I swear…”

 

It’s not rational to be threatening the Hornet like this, and he knows that deep down. He can feel the voice in his head tugging at his decision making, frustrated that he’s blocked it out for the time being. Kimi knows this is the wrong thing to do, but he’s not the one in control of whether or not he does it.

 

“I was just going to wake her up,” the Hornet tells him simply.

 

He keeps walking towards Maggie. Kimi watches through narrowed eyes as his gloved hands tangle in her hair and force her head up. Even in the shadow of the lighting he can see that her face is gaunt, that her eyes are set back in their sockets, that her skin is pale and clammy. She’s been missing for a week, and he doesn’t want to think about how she’s been treated in that week. It only makes him angrier - and that anger only makes it harder to ignore the voice in his head. He can feel it sinking its teeth into him, gnawing on his flesh as it tries to find a way to take back control.

 

There’s something over Maggie’s mouth and with one quick sweep, the Hornet removes it. Kimi can hear the sound that it makes - a ripping that he knows comes with awful pain - and she awakes, startled and screaming. Kimi thrashes his suit against the web that he and Pedro are captured in, but it’s too strong to break. Maggie’s cries fill his mind and Kimi feels rage surge through him. 

 

He fights to keep it subdued, refusing to let the voice in his head gain any more power over him.

 

“Get away from her!” He shouts, shifting with enough force to swing the web. “I’ll kill you!” 

 

“You will?” The Hornet asks, turning on his heels and raising an eyebrow. “Go on then, kill me.” 

 

He hisses his challenge at Kimi, standing motionless for a moment with his arms spread to make himself into a bigger target. Restrained, Kimi is unable to move, let alone attack him, and so the Hornet steps closer. So close that his face is practically level with his feet. His eyes are wide and deranged, and he gestures with his whole body.

 

“Come on,” he encourages. “I thought you were going to kill me!” 

 

There’s nothing that Kimi can do, not without getting out, and he doesn’t know how to get out. 

 

“I thought not,” the Hornet eventually says, turning away from Kimi and walking slowly back towards Maggie.

 

“Kimi, mate,” Pedro mutters softly, so quietly that he can only be heard over their in-suit communication system. “Can you reach into my pocket?”

 

“Why does everyone else get pockets, and not me?” He grumbles.

 

It’s a point that, in any other situation, he’s sure Pedro would argue. After all, Kimi has a metal suit that looks as if it’s come straight out of an Iron Man movie. He can only imagine how furious Marvel will be with him if he makes it out alive.

 

“I’m not going to kill her, Andrea,” the Hornet informs him simply, voice bouncing around the room they’re in. “You were useful in Belgium, and in Hungary, and in the Netherlands. Killing her is a waste. Think of yourself as an experiment. All these years we’ve gathered data on you, we’ve learned how your body works, and this year especially we’ve learned a lot about your powers, about how the serum and antidote have worked with your rather unique biology. You’ve been very helpful, Andrea, but you’re also a problem. You think for yourself, you resist. Even now, you’re resisting.”

Kimi shifts. He’s not sure Pedro knows the full implication of those words, but he certainly does. The Hornet knew about his suit being set up with serum, and whilst it doesn’t come as a surprise it’s still not something he’s particularly keen to acknowledge. 

 

“That’s where Maggie comes into things. Because Maggie is young, she’s impressionable… I’m sure if we started to turn you into this when you were younger, you’d never have tried to fight it off. You’d just have accepted your fate, you’d have followed orders like an obedient little soldier. Now we have a clean slate, and we have all the information you’ve provided us over the years.”

 

There’s that word again. Years. He doesn’t understand. Yes, he’s had his powers for years, but it’s been less than a year since he’s started using them. Months is the correct term. 

 

The Hornet walks into the shadows again, and all Kimi can hear is the whimpers of his sister’s pain as he keeps searching through Pedro’s pockets.

 

“Tesoro, it’s all going to be okay. It’s Andy, I’m here!” He tries to reassure her, speaking in Italian to surround her with the home comfort of her mother tongue.

 

When the Hornet turns back around and steps back into the light, it’s with a large plastic box in his hands. It’s almost difficult to make out what he’s supposed to be seeing, but as he holds the box out he finds the answer in an unusual place - in the shadow that’s cast on the floor. Shadows of long, hairy legs and fat, round bodies. A spider.

 

A Wolf spider.

 

“Now, a long time ago I think you met a spider named Freddie,” the Hornet explains. “You didn’t know him for very long, you probably never learned his name, it was just a brief meeting in that tyre stack in Hockenheim…”

 

Kimi shifts backward, hand stilling in Pedro’s pocket. 

 

“You did that?” He whispers, the shock in his voice genuine.

 

“No, I didn’t. It was far easier for the Wasp to get to you. He knew what your father’s plan was to sneak you into the paddock that day, so he made sure that Freddie was waiting for you in those tyres. One little bite on your wrist was all it took. He never had to ask any questions to figure out if it worked, your racing improved afterwards. You had quicker reflexes, you made braver moves, he could tell that something had changed. That it had worked.” 

 

Kimi swallows. The Wasp’s dying breath was true, and that horrifies him. 

 

“We’ve been breeding Freddie ever since. Wolf spiders don’t live too long, though the modifications gave him a few more years. This, here, is Francesca,” he declares. “And now the next stage of the experiment is underway. You see, you were only ever bitten once. We considered that more than one bite might make you more powerful, but we never had the opportunity to make it happen. And now we do.”

 

The Hornet steps closer to Maggie, and Kimi thrashes in the web. 

 

“Tesoro!” He shouts. “Get away from her!”

 

“Today is an experiment, too. Every other bite she’s been unconscious for, now we’ll have to see how it feels when she’s awake.”

 

“No, no, no!” Maggie screams. 

 

She wriggles about fearfully as she tries in vain to buck away from the Hornet and Francesca in his hands, but there’s nothing she can do to escape him - and there’s nothing that Kimi can do. 

 

“She’s been ever so compliant,” the Hornet declares over her fear. “But then, Bombo helped with that. You saw right through her, of course, but I didn’t need to convince you that she was safe. The only person that needed to trust her was Maggie, and oh did she trust that little cat. It made her so easy to speak to, so easy to lure in, and eventually it brought her right to me. Whenever I needed her, I could use Bombo to keep her asleep for as long as I needed. Perhaps I should’ve given you something when you were a child,” he chuckles. “A dolphin?”

 

The words only serve to make Kimi angrier. Knowing that this was his plan all along makes him feel sick to his stomach. He wonders if he ever had a purpose, other than to gain intelligence for a second generation obedient weapon to be shaped into his image.

 

<You? Whatever gave you the impression that you were important?>

 

As he watches the Hornet bring Francesca closer to his sister, he watches the large spider scuttle out of his hands. He’s well trained, clearly he’s gotten used to this routine, and Kimi snaps his eyes shut as the spider crawls over her body and up towards her neck. Instead he focuses on the feeling beneath his hands, on the little metal thing he can feel in Pedro’s pocket.

 

God, he hopes that reprogramming him has worked.

 

Kimi’s thumb presses down on Pedro the spider’s head and in an instant the little robot comes to life. He shushes him softly, before he has the chance to declare whether or not he’s even on their side, and whispers desperately.

 

“Please, Pedro, get us out!”

 

The sound of Maggie’s shrieks become too loud for Kimi to ignore and he has to open his eyes again, has to make sure that it’s just the spider biting her that she’s screaming about. As horrifying as it is, at least he knows there isn’t anything else he needs to think about combatting. He holds his breath, waiting anxiously to see if Pedro the human’s plan to get them out has worked.

 

When the web holding the pair of them aloft snaps and they fall to the ground with a thud, Kimi finds his answer has been presented to him. He wastes no time in thanking the little robot for his help - or his human companion for fixing him - and instead leaps into action against the Hornet. He runs quickly, descending upon him, using the spider legs attached to his suit in order to reach out further than he otherwise could. 

 

Maggie screams as a leg comes crashing down close to her, narrowly missing her as the pointed tip swipes Francesca from her neck and pierces through the Wolf spider’s body. The leg ends up in the ground, stuck, and the spider twitches twice before it stills entirely. Kimi shouts with his outrage at the sound of his sister’s pain, and he channels all of that anger into energy. The Hornet is expecting him, and grabs his sword from his side to counter the blows that Kimi manages to throw at him with the other three legs. They come together with clinks and clashes, neither managing to overcome the other. 

 

“Pedro, get Maggie,” Kimi shouts to his former engineer. “Get her out of here! I’ve got the Hornet!”

 

“Have you?” The Hornet scoffs.

 

He dances around his stuck legs, redoubling his attacks as he swings with his sword again, but Kimi still urges Pedro in the direction of Maggie and he uses all the strength he has to remove his legs one at a time from the floor. The first is still stuck, but he doesn’t waste any more time in trying to unstick it. Instead he uses his three free legs like swords of his own, moving them back and forth as he tries to look for a chink in the Hornet’s armour that he can use. If he can just find a way to pierce his skin, then he’ll be able to kill him there and then.

 

Kimi monitors the progress of Pedro picking up Maggie and running, waiting until he’s gone before he decides to do anything stupid. He tries to leave through the same door that they entered, and Kimi assumes it’s going terribly by the fact that he can hear the low cry of a man caught by surprise. He looks over his shoulder - away from the Hornet for a flash - to see a familiar face. 

 

Big ‘bees’. 

 

Two of them fill the doorway, flying high, intimidating Pedro into stumbling back into the room. Kimi, distracted, finds himself thrown backwards by the force of a kick from the Hornet. With one leg still stuck in the ground, being thrown backwards really means he’s spinning until he lands on the ground with a metallic crunch.

 

“Just run!” Kimi shouts at Pedro before he has the chance to get up himself. “They’re stupid, eh? If they can’t see you, they can’t follow you!”

 

He doesn’t particularly care if the Hornet hears their plan at this stage, he knows he’s the target. If he can occupy all their attention, then he can buy enough time for Pedro to get Maggie to safety. That’s all that matters. Once she’s in the arms of people that can protect her… All bets are off. 

 

Kimi uses one leg to jab in the Hornet’s direction as he tries to approach whilst he’s down, and when he gets back to his feet he reaches for the crossbow at his side. He loads it swiftly, coming up with the best plan he can on the fly. With Pedro backed into a corner, looking around the big ‘bees’ to try and find an opportunity to escape, Kimi grabs the shield from his side and hurls it through the air towards them. It hits one big ‘bee’ with a loud clang, then crashes back down to the floor, and now they’re both locked onto him.

 

It gives Pedro the window he needs, and it puts Kimi in a very precarious situation.

 

He returns his attention to the Hornet, glowering at Kimi as he stalks him slowly, and he takes the momentary lull to focus his energy on lifting out his last leg from the floor. He strains, closing his eyes tightly, using up every bit of strength he has and then some to try and lift it out. But nothing works. Nothing works, he’s still stuck, and the Hornet is bearing down on him - as well as the two big ‘bees’. 

 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he’s gone from outnumbered the Hornet three to one to being outnumbered three to one himself, but Kimi never claimed to be a hero with any kind of forward thinking. So rather than think, he acts. He sees where the Hornet attacks him from and he brings his legs down forcefully to fend him off. Not by hitting him directly - attacks the Hornet would have almost certainly parried - but by surrounding him with the legs. And now the metal limbs act like a prison around him, caging him in and trapping him at a distance that means he can’t make any further attacks. Now his only problems are the two big ‘bees’. But they’re big, and clumsy, and barely fit in the room as it is. They don’t have the ability to outmaneuver him, not when Kimi can pluck something outside of the box.

 

He presses a button to open his suit up and dives out, grabbing his arrows and crossbow as he goes. The Hornet is trapped, he is free, and he has a weapon that can do a decent amount of damage. Explosive arrows - he’ll have to thank whoever came up with that idea.

 

Kimi jumps and rolls as the big ‘bees’ move quickly towards him, swishing their tails where he was standing just a moment ago, hitting each other in the process. Kimi loads his crossbow in the moment they spend confused, firing immediately towards the Hornet. His suit offers a good amount of protection, but nothing is perfect, and Kimi fires as many arrows as he can in quick succession, wearing down the durability of his armour with every explosion. 

 

As he’s about to fire another arrow, something hits him. A tail. He drops the crossbow as his body is thrown back against a wall and he groans in pain as he recuperates from the hit and the fall. He’s gotten used to the cushioning provided by his suit, actually having to endure a hit like that now is difficult. What’s worse is that, even with the Hornet contained, he’s still outnumbered. The two big ‘bees’, mindless as they are, still track towards him, and now he’s cornered.

 

Now he’s got no way out.

 

Kimi holds his breath, and closes his eyes. He knew coming into this that the likelihood of dying was high - it’s why he wrote his letters - and whilst he’d accepted his fate beforehand it’s very different in the moment. He’s terrified, his body hurts, and he doesn’t want to die. There has to be a way out of the situation, there must be something he can do.

 

He whimpers, and then his body moves without any command from himself. He throws himself to the floor and stays low, crawling directly towards the big ‘bees’, then underneath them, confusing their tracking just as he had done in Las Vegas. But he keeps going when he’s on the other side, crawling now towards where the Hornet is captive. In the darkness, it’s difficult to see, and after his suit has sustained so much damage, his systems aren’t functional in the way that they were a few moments ago - it’s these two facts that give Kimi the upper hand, the ability to sneak up on the villain and reach between the narrow gaps of the three legs to retrieve the sword. He’s snatched it beyond where the Hornet can grab it before he’s realised it, and he gets to his feet to retreat from the man as quickly as he possibly can. Kimi grabs his shield from where it’s fallen on the floor, offering him protection even outside the safety of his suit, and he plants his feet firmly on the ground as he stares down the two big ‘bees’, sizing them up.

 

There’s always a solution, there’s always a way out, as long as you’re prepared to break the rules.

 

Kimi twirls the sword between his fingers, spinning it around, and his conclusion comes to him. He stays exactly where he is, staring up at the two machines and waiting for them to make the first move. Eventually, they do just that. But this time they’ve learned not to attack him together, they’ve learned to move one by one, and that’s exactly what Kimi is counting on. 

 

The first big ‘bee’ descends upon him and just before it collides with him, he ducks. He raises the shield above his head to offer protection against the hulking mass and he feels a monumental amount of pressure applied to him, but he remains rooted to the ground and doesn’t let himself falter. The big ‘bee’ passes over him without so much of a scratch, and whilst it turns to make a second pass at him he has the time he needs. He drops the shield, he raises his arm instead and shoots out his web, then drops the sword and uses his other hand to shoot out more web. One thread attaches to the second big ‘bee’, and the other attaches to the ground, from which point it’s just a case and twisting his arms over each other to combine the two webs. It anchors the big ‘bee’ to the ground and renders it unable to move, and Kimi moves to load his crossbow once again as he runs and jumps on top of the thing. Its body isn’t perfectly smooth, and he almost loses his balance as he turns to face the first big ‘bee’, but he saves himself by throwing an arm out just as it starts to accelerate the length of the room.

 

Kimi watches it, he holds its gaze, and at the very last moment he jumps. 

 

The first big ‘bee’ doesn’t have time to react to his movement, and it’s going too fast to slow down in time. Kimi narrowly avoids the heavy crunch behind him, the sound of metal scraping against metal piercing his ears quickly overshadowed by the noise of plaster crumbling. The wall has taken significant damage from the impact alone, and as Kimi turns back around he damages it further. The arrow that he shoots towards the two big ‘bees’ lodges in the first’s metallic spine, and the explosion is forceful enough that it throws Kimi back. 

 

He skids across the floor on his bottom, and sorely misses the ample padding of his suit compared to the thin layer of Nomex that currently protects him. When he lands, the Hornet’s sword is once again in his reach, and he picks it up without a second thought. It might be overkill, but he’d much rather overkill in this situation than underkill. Kimi marches forward, determination and recklessness driving him in equal parts, before he plunges the sword through the exposed belly of wires and circuitry of the second big ‘bee’. 

 

Kimi stands back and looks at his handiwork, panting heavily as he wipes the sweat from his brow with one arm, and he takes a brief moment to recover.

 

For that moment, his breath is the only sound that fills the room, his eyes surveying the structural damage done to the wall in the fight, but the almost silence doesn’t last forever - in fact it’s broken by slow, sarcastic clapping.

 

“Well done, Andrea,” the Hornet tells him.

 

Kimi can hear the roll of his eyes, and his body tenses as he turns back around to face him. 

 

“Maybe you are of some use after all.”

 

There’s no point in dragging this out any longer. Kimi knows what he needs to know. He knows what happened to him as a child, what Bombo was for, what everything that’s happened has been leading to - on a small scale, anyway. There’s still a question of what the bigger picture is, but Kimi still has one more person on his list to speak to before the night is out. The Hornet might suddenly see a purpose for Kimi, but Kimi no longer sees a purpose for him.

 

He goes to reach for another arrow from his quiver, but there’s nothing for his hand to grab onto. 

 

<Well, that’s a relief. We wouldn’t want this to be over too quickly now, would we?>

 

And, quietly, Kimi finds himself agreeing with the voice in his head. That’s a dangerous, slippery slope to start down, but it’s a one-off agreement. Even Jacques Villeneuve is right every once in a while. He strides back to the big ‘bees’ and presses one foot on an overturned belly, the stench of fried mechanics enough to make his nose wrinkle in disgust, and he draws the sword from the wreckage. The amber coating glistens under the intense light of the LEDs, making it look almost translucent in places, and Kimi licks his lips as he imagines the possibilities. How good it would feel to drive the point straight through the Hornet’s heart, how wonderful it would be to listen to him writhe and moan, twitching as he endured his final moments at the sharp end of his own weapon.

 

But Kimi has better plans for him.

 

Rather than use the sword on his enemy, Kimi turns the sword on his own suit. He heaves it over his shoulder and swings back with all of his might, slicing through the stuck spider leg like butter. It’s a good blade, and he has half a mind to keep it, but he instead lets it drop to the floor and goes to pull the leg out from the floor. He finds the task far easier this way, and with three strong tugs he’s able to dislodge it and wield it between his hands. And now he finally has what he needs to end the Hornet’s life.

 

He approaches him, shoulders back and chin held high, and he looks down at the man that’s been terrorising him and the rest of the world since March. Once upon a time, Kimi would’ve looked down and seen Sebastian Vettel in a suit. He would’ve seen a four-time World Champion, a hero, a man that cared about the environment and sought to protect it. Now he sees nothing but a villain. He doesn’t know how it happened, whether he was always like this and the persona he wore was just a mask to buy time, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly care. That’s what the Hornet has always been so infuriated about - that nobody listened. So why would Kimi grant him the satisfaction of being heard now?

 

Crouching down, he can find the gaps in his suit from the damage it’s taken so far, and that’s all he needs. He pushes the tip of the leg through the small gap, and he presses the sharp, venom laced point against his skin until it breaks. 

 

And then he places the leg down, he stands back, and he watches.

 

Kimi is filled with a sense of glee as he watches the Hornet suffer in his final moments. As his body starts to shut down, organ by organ, and he watches as he begins to decay. He twitches, and spasms, and seizes uncontrollably. He makes odd noises, having lost command of his lungs and vocal chords. He splutters out air and chokes on his spit. The room fills with the repugnant scent of feces and urine as the Hornet’s body stills, and Kimi continues to stare at him for several more moments.

 

He’s dead. 

 

<And didn’t it feel good to watch him die?>

 

It did.

 

Kimi turns back to his suit, because as wonderful of an experience as this is, he still has a substantial task ahead of him. Facing Toto is going to be beyond difficult, and Kimi knows it. He swallows, looking about the dark room.

 

“Pedro?” He calls. “Where are you, mate?”

 

Out from the shadows scuttles the little robotic spider, and Kimi stares at him. He seems trustworthy again, which means that Pedro the human did his job, and he’s never been quite so relieved. 

 

“Can you help me take these arms off the suit?” He asks. “We need to go and find Toto,” he says experimentally.

 

“Pedro will assist the Silver Spider!” Pedro declares jovially. “Pedro looks forward to seeing Friend Toto!”

 

Friend Toto implies that he’s unaware of the memo regarding Toto’s new position as enemy, but the fact that Pedro is happy enough to help him suggests that he’s been recalibrated so that his loyalty is to himself, not to Toto. Pedro the human must’ve misplaced a few memories as he poked around in the little droid’s code, but it’s a small price to pay to have a useful ally.

 

Between them, it only takes a few short minutes to remove the legs from the suit. As a precaution, Kimi elects to keep the three whole legs still surrounding the Hornet - just in case. Before he steps back inside, he examines the cushioning around the shoulders to find that needle. He doesn’t know how much serum is in there, but he doesn’t want to risk taking another dose. It’s hard enough to fight the voice in his head as it is, he doesn’t need to make it entirely impossible.

 

Kimi snaps the end of the needle and flicks it to one side, climbing back into his metal shell and letting it close around him. He holds his breath instinctively, but nothing happens, and he finds that he can relax a little as he wanders with Pedro on his shoulder. He retreats from the room the way he came - the way that Pedro the human fled with Maggie - and retraces his steps downstairs. Now it’s just a straight shot down a long corridor to the garages and hospitality at the other end of the pit lane. There’s no guarantee that Toto will be there, but it’s surely the place to start his search.

 

As he walks, the relative silence feels… Ominous. He expected to hear groans of pain, screams of people trapped desperate for help, the fact that he can’t hear any of it only makes him fear something awful has happened. Or maybe he doesn’t fear it, maybe he hopes for it - he can’t quite tell anymore. The thoughts that belong to him and those that don’t are difficult to identify, they’re all swimming together in his head. But the further he goes, the more he starts to hear something, and the more that something works to drown out the tug of war in his mind.

 

Quiet thuds, the sound of mechanical parts whirring. An emergency generator under strain? Perhaps. People in the garages wondering if it’s safe to come out, starting to open doors and turn things back on? Maybe. 

 

The noise gradually becomes louder, and Kimi stops to listen. Really listen. 

 

And then he hears a shout.

 

“Doriane’s incoming,” Bono tells him. “I’ve got a tracker on her suit, looks like she might have friends.”

 

Friends is certainly an interesting word choice, and it’s certainly not one that Kimi would’ve chosen as Doriane emerges through a door at the opposite end of the corridor. A door that, moments later, is forced off its hinges as more big ‘bees’ clumsily descend upon them. Doriane has to throw herself to the floor to avoid being decapitated by said door, and Kimi’s lucky to be far enough away that it lands on the floor and skids to a halt. The corridor is too narrow of a space for these hulking, inelegant machines to smoothly traverse, and so they bounce back and forth between the walls like they’re in Pong. Each impact produces a dent in the wall, and each dent spawns dozens of fractures and cracks. Combined with the structural damage in the room above them, Kimi already feels quite nervous about the integrity of the building. 

 

“Doriane!” 

 

Kimi elects to continue with his philosophy of acting without thinking, and he runs straight towards the big ‘bees’. They’re lucky there’s only two of them again, and he finds himself hoping this is the last pair. He stops in front of his friend, grabbing her hand, and he yanks her arm with enough force that he’s not entirely convinced he’s not dislocated her shoulder. The important part, though, is that Doriane is on her feet and she’s running with him - away from the big ‘bees’.

 

They need a better plan than running away, though. He needs to get to Toto. Maybe, if he deals with him, then there’ll be no one left to control these things. Maybe, without someone commanding them, any others that are hidden within the building will be deactivated. 

 

Or maybe not. But that’s a harrowing thought that he’d like to save for after he’s exhausted all his other options.

 

He comes to a stop at a point he thinks is far enough away to buy them time to think, and he looks to Doriane to ask her a question when she bends over. Her hands are on her knees as she coughs, and he shifts uncomfortably.

 

<This is a bad time for her to make it all about herself.>

 

“Snap out of it, Doriane,” he tells her firmly, clicking his fingers in front of her face. 

 

It’s rude, and not at all like him, but he needs her help. She can’t help if she’s coughing, so he needs her to stop. But she doesn’t, because it’s not the kind of thing she can just stop doing. If she could, she would’ve done it a long time ago.

 

He growls, opting to leave her to it as he looks around at what’s available to him. He doesn’t have a weapon anymore, not with the sword and leg left upstairs and his crossbow out of arrows, which means he needs to be resourceful. There’s nothing he can see immediately, but further along the corridor there’s a door. Kimi decides it’s probably his best chance, and he leaves Doriane behind to cough whilst he runs straight for it. 

 

Of course when he opens it, it’s nothing as wonderful as an escape - another corridor that might give him a way to Mercedes hospitality without having to face off against those two creatures - rather it’s just a janitor’s closet. He sighs, but lets his eyes roam the walls to find something vaguely useful to use. Kimi grabs a broomstick and twists off the brush, throwing it to one side and holding the wooden pole like it’s going to be of any use against the two big ‘bees’ now rapidly descending on him. 

 

At least he has experience against them now, at least he knows how to overcome them, he just has to find a way to make that work in this much more confined space.

 

He runs back towards the big ‘bees’, and if he’d put any thought into the plan at all he’d have described it as suicidal. Kimi raises the broomstick over his shoulder as he runs past Doriane, and as he finds himself standing before the big ‘bees’ he swings his body around, pirouetting to give himself more momentum, to give the broomstick more momentum.

 

It hits the body of the nearest big ‘bee’ with a thwack, and proceeds to splinter. The part that made contact with the machine explodes into hundreds of tiny toothpicks, and the part that he’s holding like the hilt of a sword fractures in two - right down the middle.

 

He should’ve seen something like that coming. 

 

Kimi backs up slowly, then quickly, as his mind races. He knows where he needs to end up - using their mass against them to smash them to pieces - but it’s the how that’s troubling him.

 

“Kimi,” Doriane splutters, moving with him this time. “I have an idea.”

 

He nods, encouraging her along more gently this time as he pulls her with him towards that janitor closet. It’s a safe place - safer, anyway - and he pushes her in first before ducking in behind her. The room is small, a tight fit given the size of Kimi’s new suit, and they’re cramped up against one another as Doriane offers up her plan. 

 

And, not for the first time, Kimi is desperately relieved that he has her on his side.

 

He steps out of the room first, the two big ‘bees’ far closer than they were before. Given Doriane’s condition, he’ll be the one to act as bait to get the big ‘bees’ in the right place for this plan to be executed. He hopes it’ll work. It has to work. If it doesn’t work, they’re both going to be dead.

 

Kimi runs right at them, something that’s becoming worryingly natural, and he dives onto his belly as he slides underneath them both. Their tails swing close to his suit, but not close enough to scratch the surface, and he makes it out unscathed on the other side. Somehow he can hear Pedro letting out a fearful cry, the small robot scurrying to a more secure spot where his crossbow used to hang. From there, all he has to do is lead them back to the doorway they’d first burst through. Doriane still being hidden in the closet means there’s nothing else for them to track, which makes this part of the plan easy. They follow him without question, slowly thudding their way along the corridor. The walls are getting weaker with each pass they make, and to keep the room from collapsing prematurely he shoots out his web to the nearest big ‘bee’, guiding it towards him slowly in the hopes that it’ll bounce around less. Except he feels himself being pulled in return, and trying to dig his feet into the ground isn’t quite enough to stop himself from sliding forwards. Instead, he elects to put all his trust in the crumbling doorway beside him and uses a foot to anchor himself in place. He watches as it crumbles slowly, pieces of brick and plaster falling to the floor whilst the cracks widen under pressure. 

 

The big ‘bee’ comes closer, though, and that’s what he needs it to do. Like he did before, he shoots out another web to attach it to the ceiling and tangles them together, securing the machine high above his head. It’s easier to duck underneath it this time - though he still has to slide beneath the second - as he makes his way back along the corridor once more. With only one big ‘bee’ to think about he can move much more slowly, and as he passes by the janitor’s closet he knocks a few times on the door to alert Doriane. 

 

He counts to ten, like they’d agreed, and he watches her step out of the door. The unrestrained big ‘bee’ pays no attention to her at all, allowing her to slip back down to the opposite end of the corridor to him. A glance over his shoulder lets him know that he’s starting to run out of space, and that if he doesn’t hear Doriane’s voice through his suit soon he’s going to start getting nervous. 

 

“Okay, allons-y!” 

 

That’s what he’s been waiting for, and Kimi acts quickly. He ducks beneath his big ‘bee’ once more and, when he’s safely on the opposite side, he shoots out his web to its underbelly and looks back along the corridor. Doriane has done the same with her big ‘bee’, and has started to run towards him. At least, she’s trying to run towards him. She’s much lighter than he is, even without his suit, and no amount of strength is enough to overcome the weight of the big ‘bees’ and drag them along alone. But Kimi isn’t operating under just his own strength. Kimi has something more. 

 

He just hopes it’s going to work.

 

Kimi lets the big ‘bee’ pull him as he lays down on the floor, and with one hand he starts to navigate through the various menus available to him. There’s no telling that this will work as well sideways as it did vertically, but he’s got to hope it does or he’s going to be a dead man.

 

The big ‘bee’ gets closer to him, and Kimi waits until it’s close enough that his feet are resting against its metal tail. Gradually, as it draws closer, it forces his knees to bend, but that’s exactly what he needs. He waits as long as he can, until waiting any longer would simply provide the creature with an opportunity to kill him, and he presses a button. The big ‘bee’ becomes a springboard, his boosters catapulting him along the corridor towards Doriane and her big ‘bee’. Despite how heavy his robot is, it’s no match for the force his suit can propel him along the corridor with. 

 

Just before the impact, Kimi cuts his web to allow him to accelerate faster and outpace the robot as he still slides along the floor. Doriane has done the same, with an arm outstretched for him to take. He reaches for her as he skids, but at the last second his fingers retract.

 

Kimi doesn’t take her hand.

 

Kimi sails straight past her.

 

His body makes it through the doorway just as there’s a clattering sound behind him, and he snaps his head around to watch as the two machines come together with a crash and a shower of sparks. Somewhere in amidst it all he can see Doriane, scrambling desperately to get out of the way, but the wings of the big ‘bees’ cease functioning almost immediately and they descend to the ground with a heavy thud. Momentum still carries them towards Kimi - friction doing little to stop them - and he forces himself to his feet, too, running as far as he can in the few seconds he has before the scrap heap collides with the empty doorway.

 

It was already weak before, but with two big ‘bees’ crashing into it, it doesn’t stand a chance. It falls, which drags down the supporting walls, and that results in a crack forming in the ceiling the entire length of the corridor. After everything that’s happened, both in the corridor and upstairs, it comes as absolutely no surprise that a sprinkling of debris is followed promptly by the complete collapse of the ceiling. 

 

Kimi keeps backing up, just in case the whole building is about to go, but the destruction is localised. He lives, despite the odds, and he stares at the cloud of dust before him. It clears slowly, Kimi wafting a hand back and forth to try and encourage it to dissipate more quickly, and he can look back upon what used to be a corridor with pride. The big ‘bees’ have been well and truly defeated, broken and buried under a mountain of rubble.

 

And then, with a sickening churn of his stomach, he realises that Doriane has been buried beneath that same rubble.

 

<You did well.>

 

“No!”

 

Kimi bursts forward as he shouts, his own thoughts taking control once more as he returns to the edge of the rubble. He needs to search for her, but his body won’t let him, the warring in his mind more than he can hope to overcome. Even if he could break through the darkness, he wouldn’t know where to start. The whole corridor is destroyed, he doesn’t know if she got caught up in the initial moment where the machines came together or if she was able to dodge it. The rubble is unstable, and clambering over it might be enough to create an even larger collapse. 

 

Doriane is gone. There’s nothing that he can do to rescue her at this point. And not only is she gone, but there’s nothing he can do to take the blame from his own shoulders. At least with Esteban, he could reason that the Wasp would’ve had the Swarm detonate on his own accord eventually. But this? This is all Kimi.

 

He shakes in his suit, shedding quiet tears as he realises what he’s done, and for a moment Kimi is paralysed. The enormity of it all threatens to knock him off balance entirely. He’s the one that’s supposed to be dead, not Doriane. And as deeply as the serum is permeating his brain, it isn’t quite deep enough to pull him out of shock, out of mourning. In fact he only manages to come back to himself when he notices the stench of burning coming from beneath the shattered ceiling tiles. 

 

Suddenly, his grief for his friend is overcome by the worries of the whole paddock burning down because of the big ‘bees’ smouldering turning into a raging inferno. He turns around, blinking the tears from his eyes so he can see again and he grabs the nearest fire extinguisher, pulling the pin and squeezing the top to release the CO2. He drains the extinguisher entirely, until he can’t smell burning, and then he casts it to one side. Kimi flinches at the sound of it bouncing against the floor, then rolling away.

 

The only way he’s going to get things done is if he keeps moving. If he stops, even for a moment, his emotions will overwhelm him. And if that happens, he’s going to be weak against the serum. If that happens, he’s gone. This is where all that time bottling things up comes in handy - he’s an expert in the act now. So he pushes everything down, and he ignores everything that doesn’t help him with the final task at hand.

 

He needs to find Toto.

 

Leaving the debris in his wake, Kimi begins to run through the corridors. It doesn’t take long before the corridors he finds himself in are crammed full of people, deathly afraid. The atmosphere is strange, but then it’s been a while since the fighting started. What should’ve been a night of celebrations has turned into a night of sheltering whilst listening to bombs explode and weapons discharge, the building around them threatening collapse at any given moment. People aren’t out of the woods yet, not with so much radiation in the air - and not with Toto unaccounted for. Until he’s taken care of him, he can’t give the all clear for people to leave, and so he just has to walk past them as they shout questions at him. Some remain steadfastly silent - like not making a sound will protect them - whilst others can’t speak to him because they’re still hysterical. It doesn’t matter, Kimi ignores them all.

 

He makes it to Mercedes hospitality eventually, his mind steeled against emotion whilst he wanders the familiar corridors. He makes his way to the office he's found himself in time and time again, throughout the entirety of the season and through years gone by. He visited regularly during his junior career, when Toto wanted to personally congratulate him on strong results. This year his visits haven’t always been quite so easygoing. There’s been discussions about his suit, his powers, everything from his irresponsible and reckless behaviour to the weather. If the walls of the office could talk, they’d have more than their fair share of stories to tell.

 

Kimi can’t help but wonder if they’d be able to shed any more light on the arrangement between Toto, Sebastian, and Nico. 

 

No matter where they’ve been in the world, the office has travelled with them. Over and over again the office has been lovingly redecorated, with knick-knacks placed in the same spots every time. The photos, the books, even the tissue box has been set down and angled meticulously all season long.

 

Kimi reaches for the door handle and takes in a deep breath, exhaling before he pushes it down and steps into the room. Toto is sitting in his chair.

 

It amazes Kimi that he doesn’t look like a villain, rather he just looks like Toto. He looks like the man he used to love as a father, a man that pretended to spend the whole season helping him grow as a driver, a superhero, and a person. He could’ve been those things still, if Kimi hadn’t had the sense to follow him in Las Vegas. Sometimes, he wishes he’d just gone back to the hotel after that race. But he didn’t, and that means he knows the truth. He knows that Toto is just as much of a villain as the Hornet and the Wasp were. This is the man that signed off on his death warrant. This is a man capable of killing him if he provides a single opportunity.

 

The door clicks shut, and Toto smiles. 

 

“You found the suit, then?” He hums. “Well done. I hope you don’t mind that I added one final upgrade.”

 

Kimi grits his teeth, feeling venom seep out onto his tongue. It almost tastes sweet, and he swallows it down. Kimi hears the sound of little metal legs pitter-pattering against his suit, a terrified Pedro retreating to his shoulder for safely.

 

He hears the door behind him open once again, and he looks over his shoulder to spot that Sergi has joined him. He understands that this means Esteban is safe, that he’s with someone capable of providing him with medical care. A part of him is relieved, but a far larger part of him is disappointed.

 

“Andrea, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I won’t be re-signing you for next season,” Toto says simply.

 

He speaks like they’re still doing business, like it’s just business, and that makes anger bubble beneath the surface. Kimi doesn’t care about next season, there’s far more important things to discuss than racing. 

 

“I’ve secured the services of a certain Paul Aron. He’s impressed in his young driver sessions this year, and he used to be in our junior programme. Do you remember him?”

 

Kimi resists the urge to roll his eyes, even if it would be an entirely private gesture within his suit.

 

“And, of course, this means that Sergi will no longer be providing any kind of support to you,” he continues, turning his attention to his trainer beside him. “Would you join me, Mr Avila?”

 

A few moments ago, Kimi thought he’d done a good job at pushing his emotions to one side in order to deal with the Toto problem logically, but as Sergi steps forward he feels as though the floor has disappeared beneath him. His heart drops into his stomach, his lungs constrict so tightly he feels as though he might suffocate, and his head starts to spin. His trainer is wordless as he moves to Toto’s side, and he feels as though he’s been well and truly thrown under the bus. 

 

Sergi cannot be with him. Sergi has been loyal, since he was a child, but this year especially he’s done nothing but support him. He’s saved his life, he’s trained him, he’s done so much more than he’s been asked to do. If Sergi is a traitor, then what about Bono? Is his family safe, wherever they’re sheltering in Mercedes hospitality? Is anyone safe?! 

 

“No!” Kimi shouts desperately, taking a step forward as if to try and plead - to bargain - but his cry falls on deaf ears.

 

“Andrea, you’ve been a useful asset over the past few years. Too useful, frankly. I would’ve much rather seen the back of you after Silverstone, but you were too quick,” he sighs, a manufactured, rehearsed expression. “I never thought I’d have a problem like that, but I had to keep you in the car for the entire season. Thank you for helping us win.”

 

Kimi barely hears what he’s saying, not that he cares about it. Sergi has never been on Kimi’s side, he’s always been alone. The Hornet warned him of the truth all the way back in Silverstone, when he was strapped to a table and tortured within an inch of his life. He wonders how differently things might’ve gone if he’d listened to him then. Would the Hornet have splintered away from Toto’s command? Was there an opportunity to break the Hornet and Wasp’s loyalty? Could he have worked with them against Mercedes?

 

He’s been such an idiot, this whole time. Hindsight crushes him.

 

“Andrea? Don’t you have anything to say?”

 

Kimi leaps from his suit, not caring about being protected anymore. If they want him dead, he’ll be dead, but a betrayal of Sergi is too far, it’s too much, and he stumbles towards the desk and drops to his knees. His body aches, and his pride is badly damaged, but dignity is meaningless if Sergi is truly Toto’s ally.

 

“Please!” He begs the man, paying no mind at all to Toto. 

 

Sergi is silent, he says nothing. Kimi feels a sob tear from his throat, raw and painful, his whole body shaking as he stares tearfully at the man who knows him more deeply than anyone else. Forget his parents, forget Maggie, forget Ollie, Sergi is the man that has seen his soul - the good and the bad - and has stood by him no matter what. It can’t be a lie. If it is a lie, then he wants to die.

 

“You could still join me, Andrea,” Toto suggests. “If you let it in. Look at everything I’ve already done, think of how much more I can do. Power, beyond your wildest dreams.”

 

“Don’t you have enough?!” Kimi spits angrily, which only seems to make Toto smile more widely.

 

“There’s no such thing as enough power,” he tells him. “You think you have enough, and then one day you watch something happen that you can’t control. I used to have nightmares about that crash…” He confesses. “I couldn’t control them. It was humiliating, it was infuriating, and I swore that I would never let anything like that happen again.”

 

Kimi stares up at him in utter disbelief as the pieces slot into place in his mind. 

 

“People are dead!” He exclaims angrily. “They didn’t deserve to die, and certainly not because your ego was hurt!” He gets back to his feet, eyes narrowed in anger. “You are a monster! You are sick and twisted!”

 

He slams his hands on the desk, hard enough to make a framed photograph fall, and when he shouts again he does so with such ferociousness that his spit and venom coat the surface.

 

“Doriane is dead! My sister is hurt! Esteban is hurt! Do you care at all?!”

 

“The speedy little lady?” Toto raises an eyebrow. “It was about time. If she’d died a few weeks ago, I never would’ve had to tamper with her car…”

 

It’s another blow, and Kimi doesn’t know how much more he can take. Everything that’s happened, it’s all been Toto’s doing. He’s pulled every string, nothing has happened without his command. This time, Kimi just lets his head fall forwards and he closes his eyes, leaning against the desk as his whole body sags. He’s failed. Not only has he failed, but he’s been blinded by the trust that he’s put in others. He thought, this whole time, that he was one of the good guys. He thought, this whole time, that people were helping him. He thought he was going to save the world.

 

He never thought that he could be this wrong.

 

“I will kill you, Andrea,” Toto says, tone bordering on tender even as his words are so barbaric and final. “Unless you want to stand with me.”

 

The voice in his head urges him forward, and he can’t tell if it’s the serum controlling him or his own mind desperately trying to save his own life, but Kimi resists the call. He was prepared to die, though this isn’t quite the blaze of glory he was anticipating. He lowers himself down slowly, back onto the floor, pressing his forehead against the edge of the desk as he wonders what happens next. 

 

He doesn’t care how he dies, that’s not what he’s thinking about. He’s thinking about his sister, who’s going to suffer. Maggie will almost certainly take up the mantle of being Toto’s personal puppet. He thinks about Esteban, and Pedro, who if they haven’t already been recruited for Toto’s sick purposes will either be offered a choice to join him or put down similarly. Bono too. 

 

He sobs.

 

Kimi hears a drawer open, amplified by his heightened senses. He’s keenly aware of everything that happens. The click of a gun as a bullet is loaded into the chamber. Kimi doesn’t dare brace at the sound.

 

Blood pumps through his veins so quickly he can hear it echoing in his ears, and his arms tremble as his fingers tighten around the desk. He hears a chair push out over the floor, the shift of fabric as Toto gets to his feet. He feels rather than sees the gun as it’s aimed at the back of his head.

 

“You were a good kid, Andrea,” Toto says - without a hint of remorse. “I just wish you’d been a little more compliant.”

 

The shot rings out.

 

Kimi feels nothing.

 

He’s not sure what dying feels like, but he’s certain it’s got to feel like something. Over the last few months he’s been beaten and bruised, he’s broken bones and lost fingers and been tortured to the brink of unconsciousness. He’s suffered over and over again, and it’s always hurt. Dying, it stands to reason, should hurt even more than being injured. The fact that he feels nothing when a bullet has been fired through his brain is almost a relief, then. Maybe he died so quickly he never even felt it. Maybe there’s an afterlife, and this is it. Maybe he’s going to spend the rest of eternity watching on as his failures leave the world in the hands of a madman he couldn’t stop. But then he hears a crash, and his eyes snap open and his head whips up.

 

Kimi feels nothing not because this is just how death is, but because Kimi hasn’t been shot.

 

Kimi feels nothing because the bullet ended up not in his brain, but in Sergi’s chest.

 

Kimi feels nothing because he is still alive, and the man he thought had left his side has protected him.

 

Sergi was never on Toto’s side, he just tricked him into thinking he was. 

 

“Sergi!” Kimi shrieks.

 

Everything changes when he hears Sergi’s groan of pain. His thoughts are clouded with darkness, and as he watches Toto begin to load a second bullet into his gun he has no choice but to act. He gets back to his feet and storms around the desk, and with every breath he takes the rage inside him only grows. 

 

“You bastard!” He screams, swiping at Toto as he tries to wrestle the gun from him. 

 

“Why won’t you just die?!” Toto retorts.

 

There’s a click again as the bullet slips into the chamber, and Kimi uses every bit of strength he has to avoid being killed. He manages to topple Toto over, bringing them both to the ground, and he scrambles on top of the man to try and snatch the weapon from him. But of course Toto isn’t giving up that easily. They go back and forth, fighting dirty, Toto leaning forward to bite Kimi’s finger whilst Kimi gets creative and shifts his leg to deliver a cruel blow to his groin. Toto thrashes around in pain, and Kimi recognises the opportunity that’s presented to him. It’s almost certainly the only opportunity he’s going to get.

 

He manages to take the gun from Toto’s hand without any resistance, and he places it against his forehead. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger without stopping to think.

 

From point blank range, there’s no way for Kimi to miss. When he drops the gun the skin of Toto’s forehead is singed from the heat of the weapon firing, and the hole in his head is gushing with blood. It’s not enough, though. Not after everything he’s done, not when Kimi’s belly is filled with a hunger for more. Kimi takes Toto’s head in his hands and claws at his wrinkled skin, scratching as if he’s determined to peel it from his bones. A death this simple and quick feels like he’s gotten the easy way out, and the darkness inside Kimi isn’t at all pleased with that. He pulls at his hair, he pounds his fist against his chest, he takes out every little bit of frustration deep inside of him on the corpse of the man he’d once loved.

 

His wrist is still tingling.

 

The feeling haunts him, and it snaps the world around him back into focus. Kimi splays his fingers out against Toto’s chest and pushes himself up, the crunch of broken ribs beneath the weight of him more satisfying. 

 

Why is his wrist still– 

 

Oh.

 

It’s him. 

 

Kimi shakes as he steps away from the body, his hands now coming to his arms to pick at his skin. 

 

It’s him, he’s the last threat standing. 

 

Lucidity is slipping from him quickly, and fury threatens to envelope him entirely if he isn’t quick. He looks around the room, desperate to find a solution. He needs the antidote, he needs to undo what’s happened to him. He needs–

 

“Silver Spider! Pedro has found something that may be useful in assisting you!”

 

Kimi doesn’t need to be told twice, racing to the little robot who’s scuttled down from his suit’s shoulder and located a first aid kit. He takes it, rifling through it quickly to find what he’s looking for. At least, what he assumes he’s looking for. Kimi crosses his fingers as he fills up a syringe with an unmarked vial of fluid, and he doesn’t waste any time at all to ask what it is, or how much he should take, before he thrusts it into his shoulder and administers it to himself.

 

It feels cold. His body feels tired. He stumbles and the world around him spins and he almost collapses there and then. Flooding his system with the fluid has only expedited the process of adrenaline leaving his system, and it leaves him feeling light headed and exhausted. Kimi just wants to close his eyes, he wants to lie down, he wants to sleep for a very, very long time. At least the tingling in his wrist is gone, at least it’s worked, at least it’s all over… And then he hears a weak cough behind him. When he turns around he’s met with the sight of his trainer lying flat on the floor.

 

Blood is dripping from his lips and he chokes on his own ichor. It’s all Kimi needs to spur himself onward, grabbing hold of Sergi as he tries in vain to stem the bleeding from his chest with one firm hand pressed over him. The other arm wraps around his shoulders as he kneels down, bringing Sergi’s head into his lap before he starts to run his fingers through his hair.

 

“Mate, what did you think you were doing, eh?” Kimi whispers, painfully aware of how much his voice wavers. “Taking a bullet for me? That’s the sort of thing that’s going to get you killed!”

 

He tries to make a joke out of the situation, tries to smile down at his trainer and get him to smile back. If Sergi laughs, he’ll be okay! Right?!

 

“Savin’ your life,” Sergi mumbles weakly.

 

He doesn’t laugh. His words instead sound unsure, they slur awkwardly together, and Kimi shakes his head as his vision becomes blurry and his eyes become hot. He’s never seen Sergi show any kind of weakness, he’s not sure he’s even gotten sick in all the years he’s known him. It terrifies Kimi to his very core.

 

“Why would you do something so stupid?!” He accuses.

 

The hand in his hair moves to his cheek and fingertips brush against his facial hair. Sergi feels so cold, and his skin - usually pale and translucent - has taken on a frighteningly eerie blue-grey hue. 

 

“Everyone is dead,” he whispers. “The Wasp, the Hornet, Toto. We did it, Sergi, we won! We’re safe now, okay? A-and you’re gonna be okay, mate. I’m not gonna let you die!”

 

“We made a deal, kid?” Sergi says wetly. “Didn’t we? I… I keep you safe…”

 

Every word Sergi says seems to be a fight. His breathing is laboured and raspy, and the blood in his mouth makes him stumble over his words. Kimi’s making the situation worse - tears running down his nose and dripping onto his trainer’s face.

 

“And what about you, eh?” He sniffles. “Are you just meant to die?”

 

“I saved you, didn’t I?” Sergi points out. “You’re… The hero… Kimi…” He coughs.

 

It’s a horrible splutter, and it’s enough to coat Kimi’s hands in droplets of blood. 

 

“The one… Savin’ the world… Savin’ you, s’all I was ever cut out for.”

 

“That’s not true!” Kimi says quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not true, there’s so much more!”

 

Sergi doesn’t reply.

 

“Please!” Kimi shouts.

 

He shifts how he’s sitting on the floor, sticking one leg out to bring Sergi’s body closer to him and kicking the table in the process. 

 

“Please, please, please!”

 

There’s no one else here - just him and a little robot - and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering to say it. If the universe listened to him, things would be very different. But there’s no God out there that’s listening to his pleas, and the paddock is filled with terrified people that’ve been wounded who will all be seeking out medical attention of their own now that everything is safe. There’s no doctor that can fish a bullet from Sergi’s chest and resuscitate him, there’s no one that can restart his heart.

 

He adjusts his hold on the man, both hands moving to his shoulders to shake him roughly.

 

“Please!” He screams one last time. “Wake up!”

 

Sergi doesn’t reply.

 

Kimi sobs, leaning over, head pressed against his stomach - a little below where the gunshot wound in his chest is. He feels like he’s going to be sick, his grief all encompassing now that the voice in his head has been quietened again. Sergi, and Doriane, and so many more people are dead. Even those that aren’t dead yet might still die if they don’t get enough iodine into their systems soon. 

 

And it’s all his fault. If he’d figured things out sooner, if he’d done something earlier, if he’d made the right decision…

 

The what ifs will plague him for the rest of his life, and he closes his eyes as he lays down alongside Sergi. He curls into the side of him - shaking, sobbing, distraught and beyond inconsolable. The tingling in his wrist is gone, the world is safe now, but the cost is greater than Kimi ever could’ve imagined it to be. But at least now he’s done what he needed to do, the weight of responsibility has been lifted from his shoulders, and there’s nothing to stop him from feeling the full force of his grief.

 

Suddenly there’s a hand on his back, rubbing circles against his tight shoulders, and Kimi blinks open his eyes for a moment as if to convince himself that it’s Sergi’s hand on him. But of course it isn’t, his trainer is as dead as he was last time he looked at him. Instead it’s his engineer that’s joined him, and Kimi ignores his presence as he buries his face once more against Sergi’s bloodsoaked torso.

 

“I’ve got you, lad,” Bono whispers soothingly, though Kimi doesn’t hear him. “It’s all over now. I’ve got you.” 

Notes:

Short chapter today!

So this has been a bit of a rollercoaster... We'll wrap things up next week, if you forgive me enough to return for the epilogue! Let me know how you're feeling, if you need my address for a hitman let me know :]

Chapter 18: Issue 18: From Now On...

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
Sunday 07 December 2025

 

“Doriane!”

 

Her name is the first thing Kimi manages to say after a disorienting amount of time spent sobbing against Sergi’s body, and then into Bono’s chest, and then wrapped in Susie’s arms. The events of the evening gone by already feel so impossibly distant and alien that they can’t possibly have happened to him. He’s just Kimi. But, in reality, it’s been a very long time since he was just Kimi. The boy that fought off three supervillains is him. The boy that watched people he loves die before his very eyes is him. The boy that saved the world is him.

 

The world might be safe but he’s not done yet, and he tries to pull away from Susie like a new born deer. His legs are shaky and unstable, and when he stands up he sways in a way that has both Susie and Bono outstretching their arms ready to catch him, but he’s determined. 

 

“Easy, buddy,” Bono cautions him. “You’ve been through a lot.”

 

The words are an understatement. Sergi’s cold body is still at his feet, Toto’s is still behind the desk, there’s still radiation in the air and untold destruction that needs to be dealt with. Kimi, though, has found one last reserve of strength deep inside him. A second wind that has him pushing Bono’s gentle arms away as he shakes his head and looks at the little robotic spider sitting quietly - almost sadly - on a shelf. 

 

“The ceiling, it collapsed on her,” he explains, turning back to Bono and Susie with horrified eyes. “I didn’t… It was my fault. But she could still be alive, no?” 

 

Bono and Susie exchange glances, and Kimi doesn’t need either of them to speak to be able to read what they’re telling each other - he knows it himself. The odds are slim, and chances are if he tries to find her he’s going to be sorely disappointed. If he doesn’t go, if he doesn’t try, then there’s a chance that no one ever looks and she could’ve been saved, that she might spend the next few days crushed beneath a building, slowly succumbing to the crushing weight on top of her. The worst that happens if he tries is that the guilt of not being able to save her will never leave him, but that guilt will be there whether he wants it to be or not.

 

Pedro swings over to him, and Kimi looks at the two before him desperately. If he can find Doriane, if she’s somehow still alive, then he’s not going to be able to do all of this alone. To their credit, neither of them speak of the foolishness of his task. They don’t tell him what he’s doing is in vain. They just nod, and they fall obediently into step behind him as Kimi runs out of Toto’s office and makes his way back through the corridors of hospitality and the garages. 

 

Everywhere is busy. Somehow, word has gotten out that it’s safe to emerge from hiding spots and people have been doing just that. There are eyes on Kimi, more than he’d like to admit, but he pushes past the crowds as politely as he can. Right now, they don’t matter to him. They’re safe. They’re in the hands of the army and emergency services. Iodine tablets are being handed out to everyone, people that are injured are being triaged and treated as necessary. Doriane is the only person that needs him, and he’s not going to let her down.

 

Not again.

 

Walking back towards the collapsed corridor is an unpleasant feeling. He knows nothing bad is going to happen - his wrist would be tingling if that wasn’t the case - but that doesn’t stop the onslaught of emotions that threatens to render him useless. Kimi pushes through, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth. He can do this, he knows he can do this. He just has to do this and he’s done.

 

Turning the corner into the corridor itself makes Kimi wince, but Pedro is already scuttling down his shoulder to do exactly as he’s been asked to do. Of course, Kimi hasn’t voiced the request, but his little robot friend knows him well enough by now to understand what he needs to do without something as superfluous as a verbal request. Especially when it comes to someone like Doriane.

 

Kimi stands back, watching as Pedro disappears under the rubble, and he feels hands on his shoulder. Bono grips him tightly and he feeds on the strength that contact gives him. Susie’s standing beside him, her hand holding his tightly, and he draws every bit of energy he can from her. 

 

The sound of Pedro carefully making his way through the debris is the only thing that can be heard. Kimi doesn’t dare to breathe - afraid that something as simple as that might dislodge a chunk of ceiling tile and crush Doriane before they can find her - he just waits. And he waits. And he waits. He wants to step forward and help, but he’s afraid he’ll only make things worse. 

 

He’s not sure how much time passes between arriving at the corridor and Pedro’s voice ringing out from under the rubble, but it feels like a lifetime. 

 

“Silver Spider! Pedro has located friend Doriane!”

 

When the robot crawls out of the rubble, all three of them jolt forwards in unison. Pedro has done the easy part - he’s found her - but this is where it gets difficult. They have to cross over unsteady and unstable wreckage, dodging pipes leaking fluids and wires spitting sparks, to get to the place that Pedro has identified before they can even begin their work to uncover Doriane. There’s no telling that she’s alive yet, not when the corridor is hauntingly quiet, but the trio work diligently regardless. They lift the rubble carefully and slowly, making sure not to disturb the pile enough to trigger a further collapse. It goes against every instinct Kimi has, urging him to grab the debris by the armful and throw it over his shoulder in a desperate rush to locate his friend, but logic has grabbed him by the collar and instructed him to be as delicate as possible.

 

And that delicacy is rewarded with a groan and a dusty cough.

 

He’s never been so relieved to hear that cough in his life.

 

“Doriane!”

 

Kimi shouts her name again, and if it wasn’t for Susie reaching out to stop him he’d have given in to his impulse to work erratically. He forces himself to resume the same slow, methodical pace of uncovering her again as Bono leaves to find proper help, and bit by bit they gradually start to uncover her body. First a hand, then a leg, then her face.

 

She’s still in her suit, though it’s torn in places, and Kimi thinks twice before trying to peel her mask away from her face. He doesn’t know what’s happened, there’s every chance that her neck might be injured and moving her like that is only going to make it worse. Instead, he just reaches to take her hand, lacing their fingers together as he stares at her. The rise and fall of her chest is slow, but it’s there. Her breathing is raspy, but it’s there. She’s alive - by the skin of her teeth - and he’ll be damned if he lets her go now.

 

“Doriane, I’m so sorry,” he whispers shakily. “But you’re okay, yeah? You’re gonna be okay. Susie is here too, and Bono has gone to get help. Everything is gonna be okay.” 

 

She doesn’t reply to him, but she’s still breathing, and that’s good enough for him. 

 

Susie settles on the other side of Doriane, taking her other hand and squeezing softly. 

 

Between them, nothing is said. Doriane is alive, and Kimi just wills away the seconds as quickly as he can, praying that Bono will return with help sooner rather than later. The time passes agonisingly slowly and he starts to worry that it might be taking too long, but before his worst nightmares come to fruition he hears footsteps hurrying towards them. 

 

Help is here. She’s going to be okay. 

 

Kimi glances across Doriane to Susie, and the woman offers him a weak smile in return. It’s something he clings to as paramedics round the corner and approach them with bags full of gear. Both he and Susie step back and allow them to work, watching as the mask covering Doriane’s face is cut from her head and she’s lifted onto a stretcher. She’s being taken care of swiftly, and even though her face is pale and her lips are almost ashen, Kimi finds that seeing her is nothing short of a relief. 

 

“She’ll be alright,” Susie whispers, wrapping an arm around Kimi’s shoulders. 

 

He can hear Bono muttering something to her, about the fact that he’s in shock, and the hands on his body start to lead him away. They barely make it more than a dozen steps before Kimi is gasping and pulling back from them, diving back into the rubble and throwing it aside frantically. This time he isn’t looking for any living thing, this time there’s no need for care. All he needs is to locate the flash of orange he saw from the corner of his eye, and when he finds it he holds it up proudly and sits back on his legs.

 

“Bombo!” He declares, turning around to look at Susie and Bono with wide eyes. “We have to destroy it!”

 

Another look is shared between the two, and Bono nods his head before looking back to Kimi.

 

“Give it to me, lad,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Come on,” Susie encourages. “I’m sure your family wants to see you.”

 

For a moment he hesitates, holding the soft toy tightly between his fingers, but Kimi is under no illusions that he can keep this up much longer. He’s exhausted. His body and mind are utterly broken. He needs his family, he needs to see his sister and make sure she’s okay, he needs to recover from what’s just happened. Pushing things aside, bottling it up, it worked for a few months until everything crumbled around him. If he tries it again, he’s pretty sure it’ll destroy him completely. 

 

So he counts himself lucky that Bono and Susie aren’t going to let that happen.

 

Kimi hands the toy to his engineer and stumbles towards Susie, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he throws his arms around her. The embrace is returned in an instant, without question, and Kimi finds himself tucking his head beneath her chin. If he hadn’t already spent so much time crying he’s sure he would’ve broken there and then, but he’s all out of tears for the foreseeable future. It doesn’t mean that her hold is any less needed, and he clings to her with a vice-like grip as she starts to gently lead him away from the corridor.

 

Susie is wise enough to lead him to somewhere quiet, and he’s thankful for it. Now that the pandemonium has come to an end, people are starting to make sense of what’s happened. People are putting together the pieces. Kimi Antonelli and the Silver Spider are no longer two separate entities, and word travels quickly enough that even those that didn’t witness the way he responded after the President was killed already know the truth. His secret is well and truly out to the world, and he’s no longer in control of how the narrative spreads, or what people think of him… Whether he’s loved or hated, it’s not up to him.

 

But as the door opens to his driver room, he finds that he is very, very loved.

 

Oliver Bearman wraps his arms around him tightly - almost drawing Susie into the embrace as well. There’s tears still streaking down his face, cheeks already wet and pink, and his whole body trembles as he holds Kimi like he’s trying to squeeze the air from his lungs. Kimi, naturally, returns the gesture just as readily, though he’s not exactly sure why Ollie is holding him with such desperation. After all, Ollie already knows his identity. He’s known the truth for several weeks. 

 

As Susie ushers them into the room, leaving and closing the door to offer them some privacy, he comes to realise why he’s in such a state of upset. 

 

“Oh, Orsachiotto,” Kimi exhales gently.

 

There’s an open letter on the desk.

 

Ollie sniffles loudly against his ear, pressing his eyes against Kimi’s shoulder. He feels as his fireproofs become damp and his heart aches for the boy before him. Those letters… They weren’t meant to be read until after he was dead. Kimi had never written them with the intention that those receiving them would face him afterwards, that he’d have to confront everything he’d written. Of course, everything they contained was the truth - and nothing but the truth - but some truths are harder to admit to than others. Some truths are scary, and heavy, and difficult. By writing them down and sealing them away, untouched until he was gone from the world, he was never supposed to have to think about them again.

 

But he was never supposed to live this long.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you thought you were going to die?” Ollie whimpers against him. “You weren’t going to say goodbye!”

 

Kimi swallows, guilt swirling around in his stomach as he holds him ever tighter.

 

“That letter was goodbye.”

 

“For you!” Ollie sobs, holding him so tightly that his chewed fingernails are still managing to hurt him through his clothes. “What about me?!”

 

It’s not something he considered. 

 

“I…”

 

“You said goodbye to me,” Ollie repeats. “But I would never have gotten to say goodbye to you! I would’ve had to have lived forever knowing that I never told you what you mean to me!”

 

“You said you loved me,” Kimi whispers. “I understood. I understand.”

 

“No, you don’t,” Ollie pulls back, wiping aggressively at his own cheeks.

 

Kimi feels hands reach up to cup his face, eyes searching him for any sign of injury. There’s blood on him, but not his own. There’s dust and debris, but nothing that’s hurt him.

 

“If you understood, you would never have gone.”

 

“I did it for you,” Kimi replies. “Orsa… I didn’t care about the world, not at the end. I cared about my friends, my family, no? I cared about you!” 

 

Ollie licks his lips, nodding tearfully as he looks at Kimi with a desperate heartbreak in his eyes and a soul crushing longing in his chest.

 

“Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he says.

 

Kimi’s pulled into another hug, tighter than the last, and it’s as though Ollie is doing his damnedest to break his ribcage. He finds that it’s a comfortable hold. It hurts, but it’s not on the wrong side of too tight just yet. 

 

They stand with each other for a while, until their legs become weary, and then they move to the sorry excuse for a bed to sit beside each other. They stay like that until there’s a knock at the door, and they have enough time to jump apart and look somewhere closer to best friends than lovers before it’s slowly pushed open and Susie’s head pokes through. She seems to understand that she’s broken up a moment, and looks apologetic, though Kimi doesn’t feel the need to forgive her when his family enters the room.

 

Maggie first, running in from behind Susie’s legs to jump into Kimi’s lap and bury her face against his chest. He holds his sister tightly, kissing the top of her head as he cradles her close. She feels small, and she shakes like a frightened little thing in his hold, but her own arms are wrapped around him with no intentions of letting go any time soon. His parents approach, tear stricken themselves, and Ollie moves quietly away to allow space for the family to sit together.

 

“Topolino!” His mother declares.

 

He’s pulled to one side, face pressed against her chest, and he has to fight to keep his hold on Maggie whilst his head is smothered in kisses. His father, on the other side of him, is rubbing his back lovingly. It feels like the opposite of what he expected, and somehow that’s almost more difficult to deal with. He was ready to be ostracised and estranged, he was prepared to die. Everything he’s doing now is entirely unrehearsed, and he feels dizzy and disoriented in a world he was never prepared to exist in. 

 

The door to the room closes as Ollie and Susie leave, and Kimi spends much of the rest of the evening in that exact position. He’s in shock, understandably. Adrenaline has drained from his system and exhaustion has well and truly set in. Over the course of an hour, Maggie turns to a dead weight in his arms as she falls asleep, and Kimi sags against his mother’s shoulder as he does too.

 

When he wakes up, his head is instead against his father’s shoulder, his legs wrapped around his waist as his body is supported by his old man’s arms. It takes him a moment to realise that he’s being carried, and when he does realise that he makes no attempt to move. Instead, he just relaxes. He allows himself to be carried. They go back to the suite his parents have for the weekend, rather than his own hotel room, and he allows his father to move him around like he’s just a little boy again. He needs that, more than anything. He’s saved the world - he needs someone to take care of him.

 

Sleeping soundly wasn’t something he anticipated doing, but with the world finally safe and his parents so close it’s exactly what he does.

 

+ + +

 

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
Monday 08 December 2025

 

Kimi goes through the motions in the morning. He peels his fireproofs away from his body - the fact that he slept in them feels like proof that everything he remembers from yesterday was real - and he steps into the bathroom to take a shower. His whole body aches, and the spot on his arm where he had to give himself a second dose of the antidote has already become slightly discoloured. He knows what to expect this time, and thinks little of it as he turns the water on as high as it can go. 

 

He surprises himself when he steps forward into the water stream with little issue, letting the hot jets of water massage his aching muscles as he tries to wash the weight of the world from him. Kimi is covered in bruises, but he knows he’s gotten away in a much better condition than he should’ve. Esteban is deaf, Doriane is in God only knows what condition, and Sergi…

 

Kimi’s breath catches in his throat. Sergi is dead.

 

Despite the hot water, the thought makes Kimi feel cold. He turns the shower off and steps out, grabbing a towel to wrap around his body before leaving the bathroom behind. He’s relieved to find that his things have been brought to the suite, that he has clean clothes to change into, and he pulls on some fresh jeans and a white Mercedes t-shirt. It’s long-sleeved still - he didn’t exactly plan on being alive in a world where everyone knew the truth and he could wear a short-sleeved top - but it’s breathable and cool. 

 

In a morning of what seems to be entirely composed of surprises, Kimi shocks himself when his parents suggest getting breakfast and he actually has an appetite. The hotel has a buffet and he fills his stomach with a little bit of everything. Pastries, cooked meats, eggs, fruit… It’s the off-season now - even if he had a contract for next year he could eat as he pleased for a few weeks. He gets a few looks, more than a few looks really, but the family are left alone as they eat their breakfast. It doesn’t mean that Kimi is left alone - Maggie grabbed hold of his hand when they left the room and she hasn’t stopped holding it since - but he finds that he’s perfectly okay with that.

 

Once their bellies are full and their bags are packed, they make their way to the airport to head home. And it’s on the journey to the airport that Kimi starts to do the most difficult thing. Checking the notifications on his phone is difficult enough, responding to emails and WhatsApp messages is exhausting at the best of times, but Kimi knows he has to open everything. He needs to see what people are saying. He needs to know if they’re piecing together the truth, or if he needs to post something himself.

 

Still, he plans on building himself up to that. He’ll start in the safest and easiest place - WhatsApp. The only people that can contact him there are people that have his phone number, and if he trusts someone enough to give them his phone number then he can assume that they’ll have his best interests at heart.

 

The messages closest to the top are, naturally, from staff at Mercedes. From Bono, reassuring him gently that he’s destroyed Bombo, that he’s taking care of everything he can, and that if he needs anything at all then he’s just a phone call away. There’s messages from George, Valtteri, and Fred, all asking to see if he’s okay and to confirm if the rumours are true. There’s a message from Susie, informing him that he’s more than welcome to come and stay if he needs anything. He feels a pull towards her, one that he hopes his own mother will never be offended by. He and Susie have been through something similar with Toto - they’re both existing in this strange kind of grief for a dead man who was nothing like the person they loved, even if they loved him in very different ways. 

 

His texts in response to these messages are as generic as he dares to make them. Confirming suspicions, sending thanks, promising to think about things. If he gives everything too much thought now he’s just going to exhaust himself with texting people back. Rather than respond to the individual messages of drivers, he texts in the GPDA group chat. It’s a brief assurance that he’s alright, and a confirmation that Esteban is alive and will message in his own time. The rookie group chat springs to life as soon as they see his response in the main GPDA chat, but he ignores the countless questions sent his way. He’ll come back to them later if he has the energy.

 

By the time they arrive at the airport he’s managed to respond to - or at least see - all of his texts, which is something he hardly ever achieves on a normal day, and then he turns to his emails as his family head through security. There’s not much to see there, most of it is still about the race itself, but it’s another delay to the inevitable. Then he turns to Snapchat, and Discord, but eventually it’s time to face the music. Eventually, he runs out of options. Eventually, his fingers hover over the Instagram app.

 

Kimi’s grateful that he has to throw his phone into the tray and step through the x-ray machine at security, which gives him a precious few more minutes before he’s forced to open the app.

 

Immediately he feels overwhelmed, with more messages and notifications than he feels equipped to deal with, but putting his phone down would leave him exposed. The airport is full, and for all he knows these people are going to have strong opinions about him. It would be useful - if nothing else - to know what those strong opinions are going to be. So he perseveres, and he decides that the best thing to do is to scroll through the accounts he follows first.

 

Unsurprisingly, there’s posts about him on every media agency’s account. Sky Sports, Autosport, ESPN, they’re all talking about it. They’re using the words unconfirmed and alleged with the sort of anxious frequency that a lawyer would’ve insisted upon, but the footage and photographs they use in their posts are clear as day. It’s not like in Jeddah, where images were limited to shaky phone cameras in the dark. The media saw him last night, there are professional photographs of him swinging through the sky in crystal clear quality. Kym Ilman has already posted a video about his own experience of what went down, as have the countless influencers that were invited by teams as VIPs for the season finale.

 

But it’s not the posts that Kimi cares about, and nor is it the millions of likes they’re each garnering. It feels stupid, and more dangerous than anything he’s done in the last twenty four hours, but Kimi can’t stop himself from clicking to see the comments on the post from Autosport.

 

@horizon.moon I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! I CALLED IT MONTHS AGO AND NO ONE LISTENED TO ME! 

 

@bwohlola was school and f1 not enough for him??

 

@idonotexistlmao someone check on jacques villeneuve 😂

 

@monsieursilly.inc Did Kimi Antonelli steal my pants?

 

@tthesongofachilless is this why he disappeared for two races and came back with a finger missing…?

 

@_eunhak ok my turn to be a supervillain

 

@maggie_ithink on a scale of 1-10, how excited is esteban about this?

 

@amathequation Did I get webbed by Kimi Antonelli?????????

 

@autumnwaste JFKAGLJ;LAVKAFL /??????????????!!!!?!?!?!?!?!?

 

The response is… Positive.

 

Really positive. 

 

People aren’t angry, not like he expected them to be. They’re on his side. They think he’s a good person, doing good things, doing everything he can against impossible odds with almost no one on his side. If he scrolls further he can find a few people bringing up what the Silver Spider was seen getting up to in Belgium, Hungary, and the Netherlands - comments that send a chill down his spine - but there’s people in the replies putting the pieces together. The world is working together to realise that they saw the Silver Spider getting kidnapped by the Hornet in Silverstone, that Kimi missed FP1, and that something awful must’ve happened to him in that time. There’s arguments about whether a clone was created, or whether he was brainwashed, or maybe the evil Silver Spider was someone else entirely, but the same conclusion is reached either way - he isn’t responsible for whatever happened. 

 

Kimi sighs, putting his phone down, and he leans against his mother as a wave of relief washes over him. She wraps her arm around him easily, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head. He lets her, and as he slips his phone into his pocket he brings his free hand to his face and rubs at his eyes before he allows himself to smile.

 

He feels so free.

 

Kimi walks with his family to a lounge, and he sits down with Maggie as their parents go to investigate the food and drink on offer. Once they’re out of earshot, Maggie grabs his arm with both hands and squeezes his bicep tightly to get his attention.

 

“Andy?” She asks softly.

 

He turns to face her, and there’s a deep sadness in his chest as he does. Maggie used to be such a joyous child, filled with so much wonder and hope. Now, the spark in her eyes is gone, replaced instead with anxiety and fear. It’s impossible to blame her - how could you not look at the world differently after all she’s been through - but he feels awful for her. Like maybe he could’ve done something earlier, like he could’ve saved some of her optimism. 

 

But Sebastian was the one that took it, he reminds himself. And he did save her in the end.

 

“Tesoro,” he replies easily, their conversation continuing in Italian.

 

“Do you know what’s going to happen to me? The Hornet told me the spider bit me every day.”

 

He gulps, but he puts on the brave face he’s so used to wearing now and he turns to face her properly. Kimi takes her hands, and he squeezes them tightly as he makes eye contact so there isn’t an ounce of doubt in her mind.

 

“You’ll probably get powers like me, hm?” He says truthfully.

 

There’s a chance, given how much she’s been bitten, that her fate will be far worse, but he likes to think that won’t be the case. He has to think that won’t be the case. If he allows himself to consider any alternatives…

 

“Really?” Maggie gasps, looking up at him as her lips twitch upwards.

 

“Maybe you’ll be even stronger than me, eh?”

 

She breaks out into a full smile at that, beaming from ear to ear at the prospect. He can see her mind racing, see the cogs turning in her brain as she starts considering what she could possibly do with such powers. Kimi is quick to reign her in.

 

“I’ll teach you, if you do,” he promises her. “But you don’t get to use them without me until you’re older, understand?” 

 

Maggie groans and rolls her eyes - and that is the first time he’s been able to categorically say she’s on the brink of becoming a teenager, rather than infected by Sebastian’s manipulation and mind tricks.

 

“That’s not fair,” she whines. “And babbo won’t let me have a boyfriend until I’m twenty five!”

 

“That young?” He scoffs. “Besides, having a boyfriend isn’t the same as being a superhero, tesoro,” he tells her in no uncertain terms.

 

“How would you know what it’s like to have a boyfriend?”

 

Kimi hopes that his sister doesn’t notice quite how pink his cheeks get at that question, and in an attempt to distract her he pulls her into his arms for a proper hug instead.

 

“I’m just glad you’re safe, Maggie,” he says affectionately. “And I’ll make sure you’re always safe. I’ll protect you, I promise.”

 

“Thanks, Andy,” she says sweetly, hugging him back tightly. “I love you.”

 

Kimi replies with practiced ease, and a sense of calm that fills his heart. Everything is starting to feel like it might be okay. 

 

“Love you too, tesoro.”

 

+ + +

 

Tashkent, Uzbekistan
Friday 12 December 2025

 

Five days after the season ends, Kimi finds himself alongside his fellow drivers once again. It’s been a quiet week, one where he’s deliberately avoided contact with anyone that wasn’t entirely necessary, where he’s focused on nothing more than recovering physically and mentally from everything that he’s endured. That started, naturally, with eighteen solid hours of sleep in his bed. After waking up on Tuesday for breakfast, he slept for another twelve hours, and in the evening was able to wake up to texts from Doriane and Esteban confirming that they’re conscious and alive - the best news he could’ve ever hoped to hear. 

 

He considered staying like that - safe and comfortable in his bed - but he was already walking a fine line between resting and rotting. Bono had insisted that he come to the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, and so he acquiesced. 

 

Uzbekistan is a place he’s never been to before, and it’s strange to be there alone. He insisted that his family stay home. Both because he’s still quietly anxious that travelling with him might bring about more risk for them, but also because Maggie’s dependence on him has become a little too overzealous. Of course he understands she’s been through Hell, and he’s the only other person that truly understands what she’s experienced, but he won’t let Sebastian take her independence from her. He’s taken enough, and now that he’s dead he wants his sister to remember how to be confident, how to stand on her own two feet, and how to be herself. Clinging to him and following him around like a shadow isn’t healthy, not in the long run.

 

He’s standing in his hotel room, staring in the mirror as he tries to tie his bow tie around his neck. Nothing he tries feels quite right, and he’ll admit that it’s starting to frustrate him. If his father was there, he might’ve handed him a clip-on alternative. If his mother was there, she’d have tied it for him and kissed his cheek. Instead he’s just met with his own confused reflection, the bags under his eyes still obvious even if they aren’t as heavy as they were before, the darkness on his left arm slowly starting to spread along his right.

 

At least he doesn’t have to hide it anymore. The world knows his secret, and the outpouring of support has been a weight off his shoulders. He feels like a whole new person. It means he doesn’t jump when there’s a knock at the door, and instead he just drops the loose fabric of the bow tie and walks to answer it. 

 

When he sees his teammate standing before him, fiddling with his watch as if trying to find something else to look at to keep from eye contact that might be awkward - Kimi offers him a smile and nods his head to one side to invite him in.

 

George picks up on the silent request and follows Kimi. He sits on the edge of the bed, whilst Kimi returns to trying to finish finessing his bow tie into something vaguely acceptable. In his reflection he takes in his teammate, who’s wearing a similar suit to his own - though his tie is already appropriately fashioned. He bites the inside of his cheek, tongue poking out between his lips as he focuses as hard as he can on getting it right.

 

“Do you need a hand, mate?” George asks.

 

Kimi blinks, and he meets George’s eyes in the mirror. He nods his head once, then turns around and lets the other step close enough to him that he can take the fabric between his fingers and start to loop it around.

 

“So…” George starts slowly.

 

Kimi lets him. He’s been lying all season - the least he can do is let this conversation go at George’s speed. 

 

“The Silver Spider, then?”

 

“Ah, yeah,” he admits, tilting his head a little. “I suppose.”

 

“The diabetes, was that…?”

 

“It was a lie,” he confesses. “I was supposed to save a man’s life with it. It was an antidote to a serum.”

 

George nods his head.

 

“Did it work?”

 

“No. He died from radiation sickness.”

 

The room falls quiet again as George’s fingers work nimbly, and before Kimi knows it his collar is being folded down and his shoulders are being smoothed. He turns his head to one side and looks in the mirror, admiring the way that George has finished his look. He offers him a smile.

 

“Grazie, mate.”

 

“You said Toto was… Involved?”

 

Kimi licks his lips and nods. This is the difficult part - not that navigating any of this situation is particularly easy. 

 

“I found out in Vegas,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and rolling back his shoulders. “Since Jeddah he was helping me, and then in Vegas I found out he wasn’t. It’s complicated, eh?”

 

“You know, I never once thought it was you,” George admits. “You were always accounted for.”

 

“Eh, that wasn’t me. It was my trainer–”

 

He hesitates, the word forming a lump in his throat, and he tries to swallow back the painful memories that rise. His eyes prick with white hot tears, and Kimi feels his whole body shudder. It still doesn’t feel real: the fact that Sergi isn’t here; the fact that he’s not alive anymore; the fact that he’ll never hear his voice, or see his face, or feel his arms around him reassuringly ever again…

 

“What happened?” George asks. “You don’t have to tell me, obviously. But…”

 

“Toto was going to kill me,” he says vaguely. “Sergi saved my life.”

 

What happened in that room is something he’ll take to his grave - more or less, anyway. Pedro the spider knows, of course, because he was there too. Bono knows, because he was the first to find Kimi and was able to put the pieces together for himself. And Susie knows, because Toto was her husband and she deserved to know the truth. 

 

George just nods his head, and Kimi is grateful that he doesn’t push any further. Instead, he finds himself being pulled into his arms, face pressed firmly against his ironed linen shirt. Kimi allows himself to relax into the hold and wraps his own arms around George in return, closing his eyes as he just focuses on his breathing.

 

“I’m glad you made it out alive, mate,” George admits quietly.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth,” Kimi replies. “I never wanted to put you in any sort of danger, y’know?” 

 

“You don’t have to explain,” he assures. “Is it over, though? Are we safe?”

 

Kimi sighs softly, nodding his head against fabric. 

 

“I think so. The Hornet and the Wasp… They’re dead too. I took the antidote for the serum, it’s out of my system. My sister, she’s safe too. I haven’t felt a tingle since last weekend.”

 

George might not understand what that means, but Kimi feels him nodding regardless. He doesn’t let go for a few more seconds, until their hug begins to border on awkward, though even when they part George is still reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. He wonders what’s going on in his brain, if he’s putting the pieces together himself and realising just how many times he almost found himself without a teammate. Maybe he’s angry, or disappointed, that he didn’t tell him the truth sooner. Kimi swallows, smiles, and does what he can to release the tension in the atmosphere.

 

“I think I owe you some Percy Pigs, no?”

 

George chuckles, smiling, and he nods his head.

 

“You can buy me some when we’re back in the factory next year. Now, come on, we’re going to be late. I’m driving.” 

 

Kimi picks up his watch from the side, fastening it to his wrist as he follows George from the room. He doesn’t tell him that he won’t be in the factory with him next year, that Paul Aron will be his teammate going forward. It’s not really sunk in yet, not after everything else that’s been happening. He’ll probably process it over the next few weeks, before he ceases to be a Mercedes Formula 1 driver at the end of the month, and he’ll start looking for other opportunities next year. Every seat on the grid is filled already, maybe he’ll have to look to GT Racing? Maybe IndyCar? Surely there’s something he can do, so he doesn’t just spend a year on the side-lines with his fingers crossed that he can get back into racing in 2027.

 

The drive from the hotel to the Prize Giving ceremony is short. Realistically, it’s the sort of distance they could - and probably should - have walked, but arriving in a Mercedes gives more opportunity for photographers to take pictures of them both. George is out of the car confidently, buttoning up his suit jacket with a flourish, and Kimi takes one final breath before he tries to follow suit.

 

It’s the first real attention he’s had on him in a week. Being at home he’s managed to avoid the media, and arriving at an airport like Tashkent International has been one of the quietest experiences he’s had since becoming a Formula 1 driver. Usually there’s a crowd waiting for him - or a supervillain in the process of hijacking a plane - but he was able to slip from the arrivals hall into his taxi entirely unnoticed. Now there are flashing lights, people shouting his name, and it’s dreadfully overwhelming. 

 

And George notices, rounding the car to throw an arm around his shoulder to act as a buffer, shielding him from the worst of the attention as they make their way along the red carpet as a pair. 

 

It puts him at ease, and his teammate ushers him inside as quickly as he can. The pre-dinner drinks still leave him with eyes on him, but at least he isn’t being photographed or shouted quite so much. Instead, he’s just constantly hopping from conversation to conversation. Stefano Domenicali pulls him to one side to talk to him, and then Zak Brown lures him away to chat. He’s bounced around social groups, circles he rarely treads in, and by the time he’s finally back on familiar territory his arm aches from how many hands he’s had to shake, and how many people have patted his shoulder firmly to thank him for saving them all.

 

“Good to see you, lad,” Bono tells him.

 

When his engineer pulls him into his arms, he finds that it’s the first touch since George’s that he’s been truly grateful for. He’s not seen Bono since that night in Abu Dhabi, and perhaps he should’ve reached out sooner to make sure he’s okay. Other than the dark circles under his own eyes, he seems to be in relatively good spirits. Kimi shares a look with him, silently asking if that’s the truth of it all or if it’s just his turn to wear a mask, and Bono gives him a smile that reassures him.

 

“I’m glad you could make it. It wouldn’t have felt right celebrating without you.”

 

“Eh, the team would’ve coped,” Kimi shrugs, but Bono shakes his head defiantly.

 

“We couldn’t have won this Championship with you,” he reminds. “And it’s not just the Championship we’re celebrating.”

 

“Eh?” He puzzles, but rather than provide an answer Bono just taps the side of his nose and offers him a playful wink.

 

Before Kimi can press him for any kind of answer, the crowd is chaperoned inside the banquet hall and seated for an elaborate dinner. Kimi is glad that his table is filled with familiar faces. Bono and George flank him, and he can see Susie and Jack sitting a few tables over. At some point he ought to go and speak to her, but he’s already being interrupted between almost every forkful of food he attempts to eat as attendees insist on getting a photograph with him. At first it’s fine, and he obliges people with polite smiles, but by the time dessert is served he’s about ready to put a fork in whoever dares to come between him and the hearty portion of tiramisu that’s been piled onto a plate. 

 

The food is, of course, wonderful, and even with all the intrusions he manages to fill his belly. As the wait staff clear their plates from the table and he’s left nursing a glass of red wine before the ceremony gets underway, he feels a pressure against his shoulder - Bono is nudging him. Kimi leans in, close enough that his engineer can speak softly into his ear.

 

“You’ve not been looking at your emails, lad.”

Admittedly, emails haven’t been his top priority over the last few days. Not since Monday, when he was more or less just using them to avoid the inevitable discovery of how the public felt about his reveal. So he shrugs and holds his glass in his hand, stem between his fingers.

 

“I’ve been a little bit busy,” he lies.

 

“I believe it,” Bono smiles. “But you should take a look, people send you important things from time to time.”

 

“Is this your way of politely reminding me to check my emails?” Kimi asks, sighing dramatically as Bono’s expression brightens.

 

“I’ve told you bluntly over text, several times. You’ve ignored those too,” he points out. “Figured if I caught you two glasses of wine deep you might be more easily persuaded to check ‘em.”

 

“So it was never about celebrating?” He asks, hand already in his pocket to fish for his device.

 

“No, no, that was a ruse. It was all about the emails.”

 

Bono chuckles as he takes a drink, and Kimi rolls his eyes as he navigates through to the Outlook app. There’s more unread emails in his inbox than he expects, which would’ve been fine if he was dead. But unfortunately he’s alive, and being alive means he isn’t free from the curse of emails just yet.

 

So he skims the subject lines as he scrolls through, opting not to click on anything unless it catches his eye. Ordinarily he would find it regrettable that there were emails that drew him in, but today is different. The first email he decides to read has been flagged as high importance from the sender, and the subject line reads ‘Interim Team Principal’. Even if he doesn’t have a contract for next year, he decides it would be good to know who’s going to shake his hand and send him on his way in a couple of weeks’ time.

 

He finds the email reads about as excitingly as any email from HR can read. The situation with Toto is outlined in the vaguest of terms - somewhere between respect for the dead man and his decade and a half of service to the team, and thinly veiled hatred for his part in what unfolded in Abu Dhabi - but Kimi knows enough about that that he just scrolls past it. Instead, he scans further down to find the name of his replacement, and he feels himself choke on his wine as he sits up straight and turns to look at the man beside him. 

 

“Bono?!” He splutters.

 

“That’s Mr Bonnington, to you,” he replies, a smirk teasing its way onto his face.

 

“Eh, you’re the Team Principal now?!”

 

“Interim,” Bono corrects with a nod. “Maybe I’ll do a good enough job for the Board to consider appointing me full-time, though it’s unlikely. I wasn’t their first choice, or second, or third come to think of it,” he laughs. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they exhausted the list of suitable candidates and asked around all the mechanics before they landed on me. Apparently word got out that I’d been helping you with all this superhero business. Who’d’ve thought that taking care of you would impress enough people that the Board would cave and ask me to take control of this whole operation?”

 

“Really?” He asks.

 

The disbelief on his face clearly amuses his engineer - or, Team Principal - and he redresses it immediately.

 

“I mean, congratulations.” 

 

“You’re a few days late to the party, but thank you,” he grins. “Anyway, there should be more. Keep digging.”

 

Kimi nods, taking another sip of his wine and placing the empty glass down as he does his best to search for emails that have been sent to him by Bono. Outlook’s search results are as helpful as ever, though, so as Bono tops up his glass from the bottle of wine in the centre of the table he goes back to searching the old fashioned way - scrolling - until he finds it. And when he does, he sips on his drink slowly. 

 

From: Peter Bonnington (“[email protected]”)
To: Andrea Kimi Antonelli (“[email protected]”) 
CC: Anca Raines (“[email protected]”); Giovanni Minardi (“[email protected]”) 
Subject: URGENT - Contract Extension - 2026 Onwards

1 ATTACHMENT: AKA Offer of Employment - 2026 Contract + 2027 - 2030 Pre-Contract

 

Hi Kimi,

 

Hope you’re doing well, I know the last few days have been quite hectic so I’ve copied in Giovanni in case you’re snowed under.

 

As you’re probably aware by now, I’ve taken on the role of Interim Team Principal, and I’d like to negotiate a contract extension for next year and beyond. We’ve not got much time to get this through before the end of the year, so I haven’t adjusted the terms set out for 2026 (though your pay has been increased in line with your performance clause, see Annex G in the attached document). If you’re happy, could you sign and return by COP Friday and we’ll get everything processed on our end. We’ll have a more thorough negotiation to set out the terms for future years. My initial thoughts are a 3+1+1 (including 2026) but happy to discuss more when time allows.

 

If you’re got any questions, let me know as soon as possible and we’ll iron out any issues so there’s no problems come January.

 

Kind Regards,

 

Peter Bonnington

Interim Team Principal

Mercedes AMG Formula 1 Team

 

Kimi places his glass down on the table cloth, switching it out for water in an attempt to sober himself up before he goes to reread the email. The words say the exact same thing as before, so it’s not the alcohol that’s confused him, and he looks up to the man beside him with wide eyes. After everything that’s happened in the past twelve months, this almost feels like the most unbelievable thing.

 

“Are you sure?” He asks, and Bono throws an arm around his shoulder.

 

“I’ve never not been sure,” he insists, looking at him seriously. “Fifth place in your rookie season is outstanding. And doing that whilst finishing school and fighting off supervillains? Course I’m bloody sure!”

 

The reaction is far more emphatic than Kimi’s expecting it to be, and it leaves him smiling from ear to ear as he nods. Although, there is still one small issue that’s eating away at his brain.

 

“What about Paul?”

 

“I spoke to legal, apparently Toto never got the contract finalised before he died. It was up to me whether I wanted him or not.”

 

“And… You picked me?”

 

“Was there ever any doubt?”

 

Kimi’s expression softens, and as the lights lower and the room around them darkens - the audience starting to applaud as music comes to life and the ceremony begins - Kimi just nods his head.

 

“I’ll sign everything in the morning,” he promises as he joins the crowd in clapping. “On the plane. I’m flying to Spain, but I’ll get it all across to you.”

 

Bono’s face falls ever so slightly, a quiet acknowledgement of why it is that Kimi’s flying to Spain rather than heading home to spend time with his family. Kimi would rather keep the emotions to himself for now, though. There’s far too many cameras around for him to risk crying.

 

“Take your time,” Bono encourages him gently.

 

Kimi nods, and he returns to his water when the applause dies down and the crowd settles in for the ceremony. His head is spinning from the high of being offered a new contract and the low of remembering, grief nibbling at him and unsettling his stomach to put him off his wine. 

 

It’s been several years now since he’s been to a ceremony like this, but he feels himself swept up in the motions quickly. After the live music, the presenters for the evening come on stage and talk the crowd through the programme for the evening. There’s countless awards for every kind of motorsport under the sun - at least, under the jurisdiction of the FIA - but before they can get to that there’s something else. Something that only comes around every few years. Something that Kimi has forgotten about entirely given the intensity of his life over the last few weeks.

 

A new President.

 

Mohammed Ben Sulaymen was one of those to lose their life in Abu Dhabi last week, and Kimi tries not to let himself be sucked into remembering the evening in too much detail. Far too many people lost their lives. He saved plenty, but not everyone. Some died at the track, and others have died in hospital since from their injuries or the levels of radiation they were exposed to. He feels personally responsible for each and every one, even though he knows it’s the opposite. Sebastian, Nico, and Toto were responsible for the deaths - Kimi was responsible for the survivors. 

 

Kimi is still dizzy from recalling it, even in an abstract sense, when the presenters are walking to one side of the stage and stepping out with a microphone is none other than Susie Wolff.

 

His heart leaps in his throat. She might’ve run uncontested after the fatal events of Abu Dhabi, but her election was anything but guaranteed after Toto’s role in everything slowly began to emerge. Kimi, admittedly, isn’t entirely sure of how things could’ve proceeded. Perhaps the General Assembly would’ve rallied for another candidate, or maybe enough members would’ve abstained to force another round of voting with different candidates, but that hasn’t come to pass. Instead, Susie Wolff is striding out confidently and holding her head up high as she emerges to applause - to cheers - and Kimi finds himself pleasantly surprised as he joins the crowd in celebrating her.

 

She smiles as she makes it to the middle of the stage, waiting patiently for the clapping and whooping to cease before she brings the microphone to her mouth and begins to speak.

 

“Good evening, everyone,” she begins, the crowd now silent and hanging onto her every word. “Ladies and gentlemen, I know this evening is already long enough so I promise I won’t blether on too long, but I hope you’ll let me say at least a few words before we get to the important part of the Prize Giving,” she flashes a smile - and there’s a quiet wave of chuckles throughout the audience. 

 

“First of all, I’d like to thank those that voted for me this evening. It’s because of you that I’m here, now, as your new President, and that’s not something I take lightly. I understand that I have a duty to you all, and I hope to make motorsport fairer and more diverse, and to make the organisation more transparent. I know this is something that’s important to you all, and I implore you all to make your voices heard if you don’t think I’m doing enough. The Presidency isn’t just about power and control, it’s about collaboration. As a sport, we won’t make any progress unless we work together, and I hope this evening will serve as a reminder for that. We compete against each other, but we celebrate each other, we lift each other up, we strive to be better as a community, not as individuals.”

 

Kimi claps, and that sets off a chain reaction. Even if Susie isn’t done with her speech just yet, the message feels more important than ever. Everything that’s happened over the last few months, it’s because of three men and their desire for that exact power and control that Susie is highlighting. He wonders how long she’s spent writing this speech, how many sleepless nights tossing and turning over the actions of her husband she’s wondered how to publicly denounce what he’s done.

 

During the applause, Susie steps forward, making her way towards a podium at the front of the stage. She places the microphone she’s holding down on the surface, and instead tilts a fixed microphone towards her mouth. He can see her make eye contact with the sound booth at the back of the hall as the crowd settles down, and he watches her take a deep breath before she takes half a step back. It gives her just enough space to move her arms, and as she starts to speak again her fingers move with her lips. 

 

“I want to address the elephant in the room,” she begins.

 

Her hands are shaky and uncertain, and Kimi can see from the way that her expression shifts that her confidence in what she’s doing isn’t as strong as it would usually be, but he picks up on what’s happening in the blink of an eye.

 

She’s signing her speech.

 

“The events last weekend, during which many from our motorsport family lost their lives, were nothing short of abhorrent. They go against everything that I stand for, and everything that we, as a community, stand for. I know that most of you understand that I am separate from my deceased husband, but for those of you that think I had any knowledge of what he did, and what he planned to do, I hope you will give me a chance to prove to you that is not - and never was - the case. To start, I think that it’s important that I give a special congratulations to those amongst us that risked everything to keep us safe.”

 

Kimi swallows, he can feel the eyes of those sitting at the nearby tables falling to him, and he’s grateful that he also feels Bono’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“None of us would be here today if Kimi Antonelli hadn’t been prepared to sacrifice his own life to fight for us. Not just last weekend, but all season long.”

 

Again the crowd begins to applaud, but this time Susie continues to speak. Kimi makes a note to thank her for not lingering too long, for ensuring that the audience’s attention is split between her and him.

 

“Whilst his identity might only have come to light recently, he’s been working tirelessly to keep us all safe. We owe him a substantial debt. But, as I’m sure many of you know, Kimi hasn’t acted alone. The full story of what happened this year is Kimi’s to tell, not mine, and I’ll refrain from sharing any particular details. Suffice it to say, that we also owe our thanks to Esteban Ocon, Pedro Matos, Doriane Pin, and a name that you might be less familiar with - Sergi Avila. Those that have worked behind the scenes to provide our saviours with their equipment must also be kept in our minds. So tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll ask that you think of them all. Whether you’re celebrating your own success, or we’re celebrating the next generation climbing the ladder of motorsport with dreams of one day racing alongside you, or for your teams, remember their names. Know that we can only continue doing what we love because of these five selfless individuals.”

 

The crowd are already on their feet. If anyone here didn’t trust Susie, their concerns have clearly been alleviated. She’s a powerful public speaker, and as she thanks the audience for their time and departs the stage Kimi wipes a few tears from his eyes. He feels George nudge him, offering him a bright toothy smile, and he allows himself to get caught up in the appreciation of the crowd. The others, understandably, are not here tonight. Esteban and Doriane are still in hospital, Pedro is back in Portugal, and Sergi…

 

He swallows, sitting down as the rest of the crowd do, and he reaches for his wine again. 

 

Remembering Sergi, it’s the least that people can do, but it isn’t enough. Nothing short of bringing him back will ever be enough.

 

But Sergi can’t come back, and so the evening goes on. Awards are presented to the young karters who’ve won in their categories, to Rally and Endurance, to Innovation. Kimi watches as the ceremony unfolds with rehearsed precision and the trophies are handed out fast enough so the evening doesn’t drag on, but slowly enough that the winners are given the time they deserve to speak. The only real pause in proceedings comes when the time arrives to present the trophy for the winner of F1 Academy. 

 

Susie returns to the stage for this, elegant and poised as she makes her way to the podium at the front. As she starts to speak, she resumes signing as she had done before, and Kimi wonders if Esteban has even had the time to learn how to understand her yet. Hell, he doesn’t know where she has found the time to learn.

 

“As you all know, F1 Academy is a project that’s been near and dear to my heart for years now. I’m proud of the work it’s done, and continues to do, as an important platform to raise the profile of women in racing. But it isn’t perfect, and that’s why I’m here before you now. I mentioned to you the names of those that saved us all, and one of those individuals - Doriane Pin - competed in the series this year. In Las Vegas, Doriane was disqualified from the first race due to excessive plank wear, and this disqualification cost her the title. However, upon further investigation, it’s come to light that this plank wear wasn’t obtained during the race. Instead, it was direct sabotage for her role in keeping all of us safe.”

 

There’s gasps from the crowd, and Kimi looks around as guests mutter between their tables. Susie, though, refuses to lose their attention and continues to speak.

 

“In the spirit of fairness, the results of that race have been nullified, and the Championship standings have been recalculated as a result. Doriane’s title is reinstated, though she can’t be with us tonight to accept her trophy as she’s still recovering in hospital from the aftermath of the events of last weekend. I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing her a very deserved congratulations, and in crossing our fingers for a speedy recovery.”

 

Despite the confusion, there’s a hearty round of applause for Doriane - even in her absence. Kimi’s sure if the situation were different, and she hadn’t saved their lives, then there might’ve been more of a protest that Susie’s first action as President of the FIA is to reinstate the title of a driver in her late-husband’s academy. But then, if Doriane didn’t save their lives, her car would never have been sabotaged by Toto.

 

Kimi wonders how many people in the room know the extent of Toto’s involvement in the situation. His death, and the deaths of Sebastian and Nico, have been confirmed, but as far as he’s aware the full truth of it all has been buried. There are whispers about Toto’s role in the motorsport community, but nothing that the wider world has been made aware of. Sebastian and Nico, for all intents and purposes, have sustained no reputational damage in death at all. Part of him wishes that wasn’t the case, and that their legacies would be dragged through the mud, but another part of him wonders if it’s for the best. If the identities of those responsible are never revealed, then it becomes more difficult to idolise them. If people know the truth, will they search for ways to be like them? It remains to be seen how the future will unfold, but for now Kimi allows their reputations to remain as they are. 

 

If he ever needs to tell the world the full story, he will, but he hopes it will never come to it. He hopes the tragedy of their betrayals will be a shame he never has to share.

 

When he zones back into the ceremony they’re in the middle of presenting Oscar with his Championship trophy, and he feels a hand on his shoulder - this time it isn’t Bono or George. Instead, he finds himself being encouraged quickly to his feet and escorted to the side of the hall, led along the wall and through a small door at the side of the stage. 

 

It all feels like a blur, but maybe that’s just the wine. Yet blurry or not, after another round of applause he finds himself watching from the wings as the presenters announce the next award. Perhaps, if this last week hadn’t been something so focused on rest, he might’ve pieced together why he was truly invited to the awards. Perhaps, if he’d had any time to think about anything other than trying to put himself back together, he might’ve come to the conclusion that he himself was a shoe-in for an award. But neither of those things are true, and Kimi finds himself honestly flabbergasted as his name is read out for Rookie of the Year.

 

From where he’s standing, he watches as a compilation of his races is shown. His victory in Imola, the way he fought through the field in Spain and Abu Dhabi, his podiums throughout the season. And then, interspersed with it all, images of him swinging between buildings in his suit. He’s not just being celebrated for his talent on track, but for what he’s done off track.

 

Kimi feels his legs turn to jelly beneath him as the lights slowly rise, and as the stage manager of the event encourages him to walk out and gestures for him to turn his handheld microphone on he feels his stomach churn and his eyes begin to water. Susie is waiting for him on the stage, clapping for him as he emerges, and he waves to the crowd as best he can as they all get to their feet for him. It feels too much. This kind of praise… It doesn’t belong to him. Even when Susie brings him into her arms and holds him tight, he just feels himself choke on a sob that he tries to repress. 

 

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispers into her ear, away from the sensitive microphone he’s holding.

 

“You saved our lives, Kimi,” she replies just as quietly, pulling back and placing her hands on his shoulders as she looks at him - eyes shining with verity. “You deserve to be appreciated.”

 

He swallows, looking out to the crowd. With the lights shining down on him from the rig high above it’s hard to see faces, though he can feel the energy from those around him. It’s more than just appreciation, and it goes beyond thanks. It’s reverence. It’s admiration. It’s love. 

 

It takes several minutes for the audience to settle, and during their ovation Kimi finds himself unable to will the tears from his eyes to leave him alone. He finds that he has no choice whatsoever but to let them fall, and yet that action does nothing to change the crowd’s opinion of him. He’s still held in high esteem, even as his grip on his microphone tightens as his anxiety makes itself known. When they’re finally quiet, holding their breath so as to hear his every word, he allows himself to speak without thinking. Whether or not that’s the right thing to do, he supposes he’ll find out in a few moments time.

 

“Grazie mille,” he says, wincing at the feedback from his microphone before he continues. “I’ll be honest, I really wasn’t expecting this. I almost didn’t come tonight,” he jokes awkwardly, though the crowd laugh with him. “But… Si, yes, thank you.”

 

Kimi licks his lips and swallows, there has to be more to say. He knows he should say more than just thank you, but there’s a wall standing between him and his words. Breaking through it is difficult, but he finds the same courage that’s carried him in his fights against Sebastian and Nico, and he uses it to break through that wall and keep going.

 

“This award, I know that it is for me, but I hope you will allow me to dedicate it to somebody else,” he says, looking to Susie for encouragement.

 

She nods her head and smiles, and Kimi keeps pushing himself onward. His eyes cloud over as he speaks, and the already dark and faceless crowd in front of him becomes a blurry mess.

 

“My trainer, Sergi,” he continues. “He died last weekend, saving my life. It is something he has done before, in Monza. After I was taken by the Hornet, he was the one to put together the team that helped save me, and then helped save you all. Even if I wasn’t a hero, I wouldn’t have been half the rookie I was without him. So, this award, it is for Sergi really.”

 

Kimi wipes his eyes as the audience begin to applaud once more, and he feels Susie’s arms wrap around his shoulders as she escorts him off stage. His head feels light and the world around him feels distant, but she carries him away from the hundreds of eyes on him and takes charge - handing back both of their microphones to the stage manager and leading him not back to the crowded hall, but to a dark and quiet spot behind the curtains. Here, they’re only illuminated by the dull working lights that provide just enough vision for the crew. He can barely see her face, but what he can make out is gentle and loving. 

 

He sniffles, glancing between her and the trophy in his fingers. She pulls him close and kisses the top of his head, and holds him whilst he regains his composure. Slowly, surely, he finds his way back to himself. Slowly, surely, he conquers the grief that threatens to overload him. And slowly, surely, he pulls back and looks up at the woman standing before him.

 

“I have something for you,” she whispers, a hand reaching into her own pocket.

 

Kimi watches her curiously but says nothing, not currently trusting his voice enough to speak.

 

“I remember seeing you with them earlier in the season,” she explains. “I was clearing out Toto’s office at home, trying to see if I could find anything to make sense of what was happening, but instead…”

 

As Susie removes her hand from her pocket, Kimi sees a glint of light. It’s only brief, there for a moment and then gone, but he recognises the silhouettes in the darkness and he feels his heart stop in his chest. He almost drops his trophy, managing to just barely keep it between his fingers as he holds out his right hand - palm flat and facing the ceiling. When Susie places the little trinkets in his hand, they feel cool, and as he closes his fingers around them their shape is familiar. 

 

The effort he’d gone to in order to keep himself from crying has been well and truly overturned. Fresh tears leak from his eyes as he looks down at the teddy bear and old fashioned car charms that’ve somehow found their way home to him.

 

Their power, he’s discovered, is symbolic. They never once brought him luck, only the illusion of it. What they gave him was confidence. Confidence in himself, in his driving, and in his powers. After losing them he didn’t lose his luck, he just lost conviction. It’s something that he’s clawed back over the months without them, and he’s learned to have faith in himself because he can do things, not because he’s got a few small charms that make him think he can.

 

Despite that, he’s desperately glad to have them back. To feel them between his fingers, to know that he has everything he needs… 

 

“Thank you,” he exhales tearfully, sniffling and staring up at Susie. “How did you…?”

 

Before he can finish his question, Susie just tilts her head and offers him a watery smile of her own.

 

“Luck.” 

 

+ + +

 

Barcelona, Spain
Monday 15 December 2025

 

Kimi is cold and damp at the back of the church, sitting on a pew close enough to the door that he can still hear the rain hitting against the stones outside. It’s louder than the priest at the front of the crowd, but Kimi’s Spanish is barely passable as it is - he wouldn’t have gotten anything out of the service if he’d sat any further forward. Not that sitting further forward was even an option, really. The fact that he’s here is already a small miracle in and of itself. His presence was never guaranteed, and he truly expected when he arrived this morning to be thrown out immediately. 

 

But, mercifully, Sergi’s family has allowed him to stay.

 

That’s not to say that they’re happy he’s there - the cold, silent glances tell him exactly how they feel - but Kimi doesn’t blame them. 

 

Whilst the rest of the world is supportive of him and his heroism, Sergi’s friends and family are, understandably, the furthest thing from it. They don’t look at him and see a boy who saved the world, they look at him and see the man that should be in a casket. From time to time he still shares that sentiment. When he scrolls through his messages and sees Sergi’s name, when he looks at his social media and sees his face… 

 

Sergi would’ve been more than capable of finishing off Toto and saving the world. If he’d died in that office in place of him, nothing would’ve changed. Perhaps Doriane wouldn’t have been found, but beyond that? The world would be unmoved, unaltered.

 

Maybe it would’ve been a better world. 

 

Kimi shifts uncomfortably at the thought, and he feels a hand press against his knee. He doesn’t have to look to his side to know whose hand it is - Pedro is the only person in the church who opted to sit with him - and he swallows back the self loathing that threatens to spill over. Today isn’t about him, it’s about Sergi, and he refuses to let his delicate mental stability take centre stage on a day that ought to be about remembrance and thanks.

 

The service is longer than Kimi expects it to be, but he’s not been to many funerals before. He finds himself resting his head against Pedro’s shoulder towards the end, his eyes filling with tears that stream silently down his face as he listens to impassioned speeches in a language he doesn’t understand. At some point he reaches for Pedro’s hand, pressing their palms together, and he sniffles quietly. It echoes despite his attempts to keep quiet, but the church is so full of sadness that no one can identify whose upset it is, and so he doesn’t disturb the family further with his own mourning.

 

When it draws to a close, Kimi and Pedro are the last to leave the church for no other reason than because they’re the only two that haven’t been formally invited. Whilst the Avila’s are kind enough to allow them to stay, they are very much removed from the funeral procession as it makes its way through the city. Pedro drives the car, following a short distance behind the motorcade as they weave between streets that Kimi doesn’t recognise. 

 

He’s only ever been here to race, and that hurts him. He wishes that wasn’t the case. He wishes he’d visited Sergi, he wishes he’d met his family the same way that Sergi had met his. Kimi can recount a dozen or more occasions that Sergi had visited his home, had dinner with his parents, made his nonna blush and his papino guffaw. He should’ve insisted on returning the favour, on learning the place that Sergi called home so that now he’d have more than just the ghost of WhatsApp messages and emails to remind him of his friend. He’s already been through every social media account he can think of - his own, Mercedes, and Sergi’s - to try and find the moments where he’s appeared in the background, out of focus, watching him with his trademark expression. Kimi never noticed it when he was alive, but now it haunts him.

 

It was the look of a man who swore to protect him, a man who took him under his wing and would’ve fought the world for him. A man who did exactly that, and who paid the price for it.

 

He almost wants to try and talk to the family and explain it. He wants to tell Sergi’s mother about the things they got up to, to give her more memories of her son to hold dearly. He wants to tell his friends about the ways he used to prank him, to try and make them laugh. Selfishly, he wants them to do the same in return. He wants to know what he was like growing up, he wants someone to verify that he knows Sergi’s favourite songs, his favourite foods, that the man in his head is the real version of him. He wants to be sure that his memory isn’t already being warped, that he’ll be able to preserve some part of him forever. But approaching them seems entirely off the table - both now and in the future. He’s not sure they’ll ever be able to forgive him, that they’ll ever understand that there was something about him that was worth saving to Sergi. 

 

He’s just going to have to work overtime to be able to protect his memories and keep them pure and true, to allow his friend to live on in his memories without losing the substance of him to time.

 

Kimi and Pedro are silent when the car comes to a stop in the car park attached to the graveyard. Apparently Sergi is being buried at a family plot, removed from the church he’d lived closest to and attended most of his life, and Kimi is even more cognizant of the fact that he isn’t welcome. So, for a while, he and Pedro just sit in the car. The windshield fogs up slowly as wind and rain lashes against the glass around them, and they wait and watch from a distance as the family mourns. Kimi can just about see the casket as it is lowered into the grave. A quiet sob escapes him, and he’s thankful that Pedro just lets him cry. He’s sure, if he turned his head, that his friend would have eyes just as bloodshot as his own, but he respects his right to privacy during the moment.

 

When the weather starts to deteriorate rapidly, the crowd around the grave departs to seek out the warmth of the wake, and Kimi waits a few minutes before he moves. During that time he breathes through his mouth - his nose woefully blocked - and he attempts to calm himself down. He watches as the cars parked around them come to life and pull away, headlights bursting through the dull atmosphere as the crowd leaves. Kimi can feel their heartbreak, and he wants to apologise to them all.

 

But it would do nothing, so he doesn’t.

 

Instead, when there’s only a few cars left, Kimi unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes open the car door. He closes it behind himself gently, tugging his coat closer to his body as he digs his hands into his pockets and walks in the direction the mourners came from. The gate to the graveyard creaks as he opens it, and groans as the wind takes it from him and blows it securely behind him. Kimi could put his hood up, but instead he just lets the large droplets of rain hit against his cheek. With the wind blowing ferociously, it doesn’t take long at all for his skin to feel raw - worn down by the elements. Kimi trudges on regardless, boots squelching on the wet grass as he makes his way to the side of the grave.

 

It’ll be filled in soon enough, but for now he can still look over the side of the hole and see the wooden coffin that’s been lowered into the ground. It’s mahogany, with intricate carvings that almost certainly mean something to the family. Kimi wishes he could ask Sergi what it meant, and why it was important, but the time to ask him questions is gone. Long gone. He decides to sit down, his jeans quickly becoming saturated and heavy with excess moisture. Kimi rests his hands in the grass, staring over at the flowers that have been tossed into the grave. 

 

Everything feels so much more real here. There’s nothing he can do to deny that Sergi is gone now that his body is in the ground. He almost wants to lean forward and tumble in with him, and either beg the universe to allow them to trade places or allow himself to be buried with his trainer. The thought is brief, though, because his mind quickly supplies the ghost of Sergi chastising him for such suggestions. He knows he wouldn’t want him to focus on his grief, to become consumed by it. 

 

For half of Kimi’s life, Sergi has been by his side, whittling away and carving him into something that could one day be great. If he throws away his career and allows himself to be pulled into a spiral of depression, then Sergi’s work will have been in vain. What he should do, what he needs to do, is to carry Sergi with him. He already does, in a way. In every muscle, in every turn of the steering wheel, in every scar, the spirit of Sergi is with him.

 

The only way out of his grief is through it, and that means that he has to begin to heal. Today is about saying goodbye, but tomorrow… Tomorrow will be about finding a way to carry on, to win Championships, and to dedicate it all to the man that moulded him into the person he is.

 

He takes a slow, steady breath, and he reaches into his inside pocket. His fingers brush against paper and for a moment, he flinches, but he catches himself and closes his hand around it. As Kimi reveals the envelope to the world, raindrops begin to stain it. His hands shake as he breaks the seal, but with how quickly the ink spelling out Sergi’s name is starting to run he knows he’s going to have to go quickly. His vision begins to blur again, which only makes reading the quickly smudging text even more difficult. At this rate, it’ll be illegible in a minute or two.

 

So he starts.

 

“Sergi,” Kimi whispers, his voice carried by the wind to the empty graveyard around him. “If you’re reading these words, then I am dead.”

 

The irony is like a sucker punch to his gut, a blow like nothing else. There’s a gust of wind that whistles through his ears, and he almost wonders if it’s a sign - like Sergi’s laughter is being carried from the afterlife. It makes a sob escape from between his lips and he leans forward, protecting the letter from the elements. He cries to the fog, to the insects and birds that inhabit the foliage of the graveyard, to the ghosts that have seen their fair share of heartache over the centuries. And as he cries in the buffeting wind and the brutally cold December air, he feels a strange kind of warmth wrap around him.

 

It’s as if he can feel Sergi sitting beside him, an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close and consoling him. It’s as if there’s a finger pointing to the next line of the letter to encourage him to keep going. But now the letter feels wrong. This letter was meant for a man that was alive, these words were meant to be delivered to someone who’d be able to hear them.

 

If Kimi knew Sergi was going to be the one to die, then he’d have said it all before that fateful evening. He would’ve pulled him aside before the race, held his hands so tightly that he’d be at risk of breaking his fingers, and he’d have told him just how important he was. How thankful he is for his years of dutiful service, for the guidance he’s shown, for the bravery and the love that he gave him in the face of uncertain odds and terrible danger.

 

He sobs again, wishing he could turn into the chest of his dearly departed friend and wet his shirt with his tears, but he can’t.

 

It’s too much. It’s too raw. Sergi is dead and gone, yet his ghost is here and all of a sudden he’s staring at the blood seeping from his wound too quickly, the colour draining from his face too fast. Every time he blinks, he sees the body of a man gone before his time, life leaving him through those last raspy breaths, his final words still echoing in his mind.

 

Kimi’s sobs wrack his body until the air around him begins to clear, the mist lifting and the sun starting to fight its way through the heavy grey clouds. Eventually they’re done depositing their moisture and the rain stops, and Kimi finds himself sitting alone beneath a gradually blueing sky. The sun’s rays are weak, and without the cloud cover he feels a chill run down his spine, but Kimi is sure he’s been here for long enough now. Pedro will come looking for him soon enough, and he’d like to finish his goodbyes privately if he can.

 

He folds the letter, now scrunched up and sodden, and tries to slip it back into the torn envelope. Those words were never meant to be said aloud, and so he’ll leave them unsaid. Instead, he tosses the envelope down into the grave to give them to Sergi. Wherever he is now, whatever afterlife there is, he’ll know everything that Kimi wanted to tell him.

 

When he gets back to his feet, he kicks a little loose soil into the grave, watching as it scatters over the envelope that he’s just dropped in. This… It’s closure. It’s what he came here for. 

 

Kimi reaches into his pockets again - outside rather than inside - and this time he reveals a small metal shape. Pedro the spider is idle, as he has been since Doriane was rescued in Abu Dhabi, and Kimi struggles for a moment before he finds the strength he needs to turn him on. He jumps to life in the palm of his hand, scuttling around enthusiastically, before he manages to survey his surroundings. Without knowing how much Pedro picked up on in Toto’s office, Kimi has no choice but to explain the situation to him.

 

“Pedro,” he whispers gently. “We’re saying goodbye to Sergi.”

 

He swallows the lump in his throat as the little spider slowly edges towards the side of his palm, peering over and looking down at the grave himself. Over the past few months he’s become certain that the little robot has the capacity to feel emotions, but that isn’t enough for him to truly be able to piece together what it is that Pedro is feeling right now. Whether or not he’s capable of feeling sorrow so desperately soul crushing, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that he reaches for the back of his shell subconsciously, moving a finger back and forth as if to offer comfort.

 

“Friend Sergi,” Pedro says, his digital voice lilting sadly. “Pedro will miss your company. Pedro will protect the Silver Spider for you.”

 

Kimi sniffles again, eyes flitting past the droid in his hand to the grave beneath his feet.

 

“I love you, Sergi,” he whispers, the syllables barely audible even to his own ears. “I’ll never forget you.”

 

Sergi, obviously does not reply.

 

Kimi turns away. He closes his eyes, and he takes a deep breath through his nose. His sinuses feel clear again and, despite how heavy his shoulders feel, he is lighter. When he reopens his eyes, he lifts his head up and walks with Pedro back towards the car waiting for him. He’s got a life to live now, whether he wants it or not, and if he doesn’t want to waste what Sergi spent his final breaths bestowing upon him then he’s got to do everything he can to make the most of it.

 

It’s the least that he can do for his friend.

 

+ + +

 

Bologna, Italy
Thursday 25th December 2025

 

Healing is difficult.

 

One day, healing means lying in bed, hidden under bedsheets and crying. The next day, healing means going out for a jog and letting the wind freeze your arms. The day after that it means wrapping those arms around your mother and holding her close, begging her to chase the nightmares from your conscious mind.

 

But, right now, healing means heavy footsteps and loud voices. Healing means Kimi’s door almost being thrown off its hinges as Maggie storms into his bedroom and throws herself onto his bed. Healing means bursting awake whilst his sister crawls over his body and grabs him by the shoulders, shaking the sleep from his eyes as she yells at the top of her lungs.

 

“HE’S BEEN!” She declares in Italian, her accent thicker than he remembers it being.

 

Kimi sits up slowly, squinting as he looks to his curtains. Of course they’re still shut, but he can tell regardless that the sun is a long way from rising. He rubs his face and yawns, before he gives his sister all of his attention and all of his energy. Not that there’s much energy to speak of right now.

 

“Eh?” He grumbles softly, much to Maggie’s chagrin.

 

“Father Christmas!” She insists, sitting back and grabbing his hand tightly. “He’s been, Andy! Come on! We have to open our presents!”

 

Despite her forceful words, Kimi still takes his time with getting out of bed. Maggie, of course, is not prepared to sit and wait for him. She abandons him quickly, realising that his sluggish nature is eating into her stocking opening time, and she races downstairs to give Kimi a quiet few minutes to wake himself up properly.

 

He swings his legs to the side of his bed, glances at his phone (which reads that it’s only just gone 5 o’clock in the morning), and he contemplates just lying back down and going right back to sleep. But he knows that sleep won’t find him again any time soon - Maggie will be back to wake him up again if he dares to snooze now - so instead he pushes himself to his feet and goes about his morning.

 

Of course, his morning is nothing like his usual morning. Christmas morning is special, no matter how tired he is, so he trades his pyjama top for a comfortable Christmas jumper and slips on a pair of fluffy socks to keep his feet warm despite the hardwood floors. He thinks about texting Ollie, but given it’s only 4am for him he thinks better of it. His siblings are older than Maggie, his Christmas gift is going to be a lie-in. One of these days, Kimi will have a luxury like that too, but that luxury will mean that Maggie no longer believes in Father Christmas, and so he decides he can cope with his exhaustion for a few more years if that’s the trade he needs to be prepared to make.

 

Eventually, after a few stretches and a trip to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth, he heads downstairs to join the rest of his family. His parents are already nursing cups of coffee, his father armed with a black bin bag to gather up the wrapping paper as Maggie tears it from her presents with excited, reckless abandon, and his mother taking photos of everything that Father Christmas has bestowed upon her. 

 

“Andy!” She jumps to her feet when he finally appears, running to grab his stocking from the fireplace and hand it to him. “You have so many presents!” She beams.

 

“Grazie, tesoro,” he says.

 

He sits beside his mother, eyes threatening to sag shut the moment he’s on the sofa, but Maggie clears her throat and makes it very clear that he’s not to entertain the idea of a cat nap. One more long, drawn out yawn later, he finally finds the energy to slowly start going through his own presents, but his mind is somewhat removed from the situation the whole time. 

 

Kimi pulls out a satsuma, peels it, and eats it slowly before he dares to start on the chocolate that his stocking has been stuffed with. He’s almost surprised not to find it stuffed with coal, but then none of his worst fears with his parents have come to pass. He worried that, after returning Maggie, he might be cast out. He worried that they might be angry, or disappointed, or even frightened of what he’s become. Instead, he feels closer to his family than ever before.

 

The attention is on Maggie, who’s playing contentedly with all her new toys within twenty minutes of waking up. Kimi and his parents leave theirs under the tree, untouched (aside from his stocking) to be saved for later in the day. He gets his first reprieve of the day’s excitement by offering to cook breakfast for everyone, which his parents seem more than happy to allow. As he leaves the room his father declares that he’s going to the bathroom, and Kimi knows in his heart that’s code for back to bed. Maggie, now with her gifts opened, seems far less distressed that someone might want to sleep more on Christmas morning than she did just a few minutes ago.

 

Breakfast, Kimi decides, is a rather loose term for Christmas day. Rather than cooking up eggs, or gently warming some pastries, or cutting up fruit, he turns on the oven and starts to mix pistachios and hazelnuts with dates and apricots. The kitchen smells divine already, but adding cinnamon, ginger, and cardamom to the mix only makes it feel even more cosy. The feeling only intensifies when he’s working on the stovetop, mixing honey, sugar, and wine in a saucepan, and it feels like the world is giving him a big hug. It’s a nice feeling - after so long fighting with his mind he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be calm and at peace with things - and it’s a feeling he has to remind himself that he deserves. He gave so much this year to protect the world, he is more than owed some kindness in return.

 

He starts to mix the hot liquid with the dry ingredients, watching as the flour thickens. There’s a distinct urge to lick the back of the spoon that he’s using, but he manages (somehow) to remind himself that any liquid hot enough to melt sugar is going to do some serious damage to his tastebuds. Besides, the panforte will taste just as good once it’s cooked.

 

As the pan with the mixture is put into the oven he starts to clean up after himself, and he’s mid wipe down of the countertops as he hears footsteps come into the room. Not the loud, insistent pitter patter of his sister, or the heavy, lethargic thuds of his father. He doesn’t need to turn to know it’s his mother that’s joined him, but he does all the same. Her face is the picture of home. Warmed by the gentle light above his head - and the candles lit at the side of the room - her soft face becomes even more rounded and the shadows that would sharpen her features are chased away. Kimi dusts his hands on a towel, and then on his pyjamas for good measure, before he steps towards her and wraps his arms around her.

 

“Buon Natale, mamma,” he mutters into her ear.

 

She squeezes him tightly, and he feels her lips pressing firmly against his cheeks.

 

“Oh, Andrea,” she sighs against him, refusing to pull back as she cradles him close to her chest. “I am so glad you are home.”

 

Kimi closes his eyes as he leans against her. He wonders what Christmas might’ve been like in another world. A world where he’d died, before or after saving Maggie, would’ve been entirely unrecognisable. Presents under the tree, still wrapped for little hands that would never peel back the paper. So much love wasted, a future lost forever. 

 

It’s not often that he thinks about himself. When he saved his father back in Jeddah he made the decision to use his powers for good, to save other people no matter the potential cost to himself, and even whilst he tried his damnedest to avoid getting hurt it was still very much a risk. It was a risk that he, personally, accepted, but he never gave thought as to whether or not it was a risk his parents would be prepared to accept. If he’d died there and then - perhaps from an explosion, or falling out of the sky - would they have found out the truth? Would his parents know he sacrificed his own life to save his father? How would they have felt if that had happened? Would the guilt have eaten them alive, the same way the guilt over Sergi has destroyed him? He remembers the grief on the face of Sergi’s mother, and it twists his stomach. Putting the safety of others before himself was one thing, but to imagine his own mother’s face contorting with such heartache… It frightens him. It’s a side of being a hero he never really considered before, a side he never would’ve considered if he hadn’t been put in that exact position by Sergi.

 

He holds her tighter, and he nuzzles his face into the side of her neck. He inhales her perfume, and it makes him feel like a little boy again. 

 

He’ll always be her little boy though - no matter how many times he saves the world.

 

“I didn’t buy you a present, mamma,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t think I was going to live.”

 

His confession just results in a tighter hug, and for a moment he wonders if she might just be crushing his ribs for forgetting to buy her a gift. The sniffle against his ear quickly tells him that it isn’t the case at all.

 

“You being alive is the greatest gift I could’ve asked for,” she replies.

 

After a moment, she finally pulls away from him, her hands cupping his cheeks as her eyes search his. Looking at his mother, he finds himself deeply relieved that she never had to take the letter that’s now safely hidden in his room. Perhaps, one day, he’ll find the strength he needs to tell her everything he’d written down. But for now, all they need to communicate how they feel is each others’ arms, and Kimi pulls her back for one more embrace.

 

It lasts for several minutes, before Kimi manages to step back and head upstairs once more. Not to sleep - he fears Maggie’s wrath if she were to catch him trying a thing like that - but to his bedroom. His phone is still there, and after getting changed out of his pyjamas into a pair of comfortable sweatpants he swipes away the YouTube video teaching him sign language he fell asleep to, and decides it’s finally an appropriate time to send out a few messages.

 

To Ollie, of course, but to Esteban, and Doriane, and Pedro too. Pedro might have escaped Abu Dhabi physically unscathed, but the mental toll of losing a close friend has been just as hard on him as it has on Kimi. For Esteban and Doriane, their physical recoveries have taken priority. Esteban only had to spend a few days in hospital with his burns. Since his release, he’s been making good progress. His hearing has recovered somewhat, though Kimi’s understanding is that it’s greatly reduced now. A shout is more like a whisper, and it’s not likely to progress beyond that. Doriane’s own recovery has taken far longer, given how much her lungs had deteriorated thanks to the antidote that had been slowly killing her. She was discharged from hospital a few days ago and, despite still being weaker than she’d like to admit, she seems to be on the track to returning to full health. 

 

At some point in the new year - before racing starts - he needs to see them both. Both to thank them for what they’ve done, what they sacrificed, but also for his own peace of mind. Hearing that they’re getting better is one thing, but seeing it with his own eyes will be something else entirely. He can still see Esteban’s burned body and Doriane’s pale face - he needs to be able to replace those images with something else if he ever wants to be able to sleep soundly again.

 

Kimi makes his way back downstairs, the smell of panforte carrying through the house as it bakes in the oven, and in a few more minutes he’ll take it out before facing his most difficult challenge yet - waiting for it to cool and firm up before he starts to slice and eat it. In the meantime, he goes back into the living room and sits at the foot of the tree, sorting the presents into piles. His sister’s, naturally, have all been opened, but he can organise those for himself and his parents to make the process of opening them smoother later on. As he sorts through the pile he makes a mental list of the names he sees on the tags. There’s several from his parents for him, some from aunts and uncles, and one from Ollie. His boyfriend will of course be in big trouble for that, because they agreed they weren’t doing presents this year (though Kimi is just as guilty as Ollie is - there are two waiting under the Bearman family tree for him). What stands out to him, most of all, is a little parcel barely bigger than the tag that’s stuck to it. It’s wrapped hastily, the Sellotape overlapping and the paper slightly torn, and he turns it over in his hand curiously to read the label.

 

To: Kimi

 

From: Sergi

 

His heart stops.

 

Kimi’s fingers tremble as they wrap tightly around the present. It’s wrapped in a festive Spiderman themed wrapping paper, and it suddenly feels like the most precious thing he’s ever touched. He looks over his shoulder to make sure that he’s not being watched by Maggie before he carries himself quickly back upstairs to his bedroom, hoping for a few minutes of privacy whilst he decides whether or not he’s going to even be able to open the gift.

 

In the end, he decides that he can, but he does so with an almost surgical level of precision. He uses the nail clippers beside his bed to cut the tape, refusing to tear the paper. Sergi’s fingers touched that paper, it’s another thing he can use to remember his friend and he won’t be so careless as to damage it any more than he has to. As soon as he’s through the tape he starts to unfold the paper, and he can feel something small inside. He feels like he might pass out, like he’s been holding his breath for far too long, and when he finally manages to choke out an exhale it’s because the gift has slipped out from the paper and onto his bedsheets.

 

Kimi reaches for it quickly, terrified that it might slip under his bed and be lost to time, like if he’s not touching it then he’s going to realise that it never existed in the first place. But it’s real. It’s cool against his palm, and when he turns his hand over to look at it…

 

He almost starts crying again. It’s been a little over thirty seven hours since he last cried, he’s going for a new record and he won’t let this be his undoing.

 

Sitting in his palm, a new gold charm to add to his collection. Now he has his grandfather’s old fashioned car, the teddy bear that Ollie gave him, and a beautiful golden spider with discrete teal highlights.

 

He whimpers, but he bites his cheek hard enough to draw venom and swallowing that down keeps the tears from spilling. His record isn’t yet undone.

 

“Oh, Sergi,” he whispers, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. 

 

Kimi studies the charm for several long minutes, moving his fingers back and forth to commit it to memory. He wonders if Sergi thought he was going to die as much as he did, and he finds a new kind of regret encroaching on his mind. If they’d just talked to each other about it, maybe they’d both be alive. Maybe they wouldn’t have spent the week between Qatar and Abu Dhabi alone and afraid. Maybe they would’ve said everything they wanted to say, and the grief would’ve been manageable. 

 

Thinking like that won’t change things, Kimi knows it, and so he just tightens his hand around the little charm and holds it against his chest. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the hand quilted blanket on his bed, and he just lets himself breathe.

 

Sergi held this charm. He sought it out for him. He made sure the Christmas present reached him, even in a world where he was buried almost two weeks ago.

 

Even in death, he still loves him. And even in death, Kimi can feel his eyes looking down on him.

 

“Grazie mille,” he whispers, looking up as if to spot Sergi staring back at him.

 

All he sees is the ceiling of his room, but it doesn’t disturb the illusion. It doesn’t break the spell that Kimi is under. Sergi is there, and Kimi can hold a piece of him close.

 

He’s distracted by the buzzing of his phone, which he presumes to be the timer for the panforte going off. Kimi tucks the charm into his pocket, resolving to find a way to keep it with him forever, and he takes his phone out to stop the alarm from going off. Though as he unlocks his phone, he realises that it isn’t going off because of the timer - not quite, anyway, it still has another thirty seconds - instead it’s going off because he’s received a message. It makes him smile, and the refreshed sorrow for Sergi is replaced quickly by joy as a laugh escapes him.

 

[Bono] Kimi, why have you bought me a pair of cat ears?

 

+ + +

 

Monaco, Monaco
Monday 12 January 2026

 

Moving from one year to the next has offered Kimi something he desperately needed - a way to compartmentalise what’s happened to him in a healthy, sustainable way. He’s not boxing things up, he’s just separating them. He’s feeling his emotions, but he’s able to look at them from a step back. 2026 is a new year. It’s a year where he’s going to be a Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula 1 driver with a power unit that’s rumoured to be dominant. It’s a year where he’s not going to be juggling school, and superheroism, and racing. It’s a year where he’s not hiding himself - at least, not all of himself. He doesn’t care if the world sees the darkness on his arms now, but he’s not sure they’re ready to know that he’s sharing a bed with the Tifosi’s new golden boy.

 

Most Formula 1 drivers move to the Principality thanks to the lack of personal income tax, but Kimi’s moved for love. The lack of taxes is certainly helpful, given the increase in his contract, but it’s just a bonus. The fact that he’s living with Ollie now… That’s the real plus. He gets to live with his boyfriend.

 

In an attempt to keep a somewhat low profile, they remain entirely platonic from the moment that Ollie meets him in the foyer until the moment they make it into the apartment. That means not looking each other in the eye as Ollie helps him with his bags, and not whispering anything to each other in the elevator just in case someone else joins them, but the moment the door is closed behind them they’re both dropping Kimi’s bags on the floor and stumbling towards each other. Ollie grabs the neck of Kimi’s shirt and pulls him up onto his tiptoes, and Kimi’s hands fly to his hair to tug him down to try and meet him half way.

 

The kiss is desperate. They’ve not seen each other since Abu Dhabi - both busy with work and with family - and it’s felt like a lifetime for a multitude of reasons. Finally being able to taste Ollie’s lips once again… Kimi can’t stop going back for more. It’s clumsy, and messy, and the stubble on Ollie’s face is rough against his upper lip, but Kimi doesn’t care about the rash he’ll almost certainly have in the morning. Ollie is with him again, and he can finally make all those dangerous daydreams from last year come true.

 

Although his daydreams seemed to leave out just how irritating it is to need to breathe. 

 

It’s a rude awakening, the fact that he has to pull back from his lover to gulp down air and steady himself where he stands, but he tries to smooth out his own annoyance by looking at the boy in front of him. Ollie’s hair looks even messier than usual - courtesy of his own fingertips - and his cheeks are flushed pink, his freckles now against the backdrop of a beautiful supernova. His heart hammers in his chest, and as much as the heat in his stomach wants him to go back to kissing Ollie there and then he forces himself to take it slowly. They’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy each other, he should probably unpack first.

 

“Why did you have to be so tall, eh?” Kimi grumbles playfully as he collects one of his suitcases from the ground. “I swear you’ve grown again.”

 

“Another centimetre in the last month,” Ollie smirks, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet with pride. 

“You’re the worst,” he says, rolling his eyes.

 

Ollie’s response comes by way of a sly kiss to his cheek, before he too grabs a suitcase. They agreed - at least in theory - to be responsible whilst living together, and this is an attempt to start as they mean to go on. Ollie’s already made space for him everywhere. His clothes have been pushed to one side of the wardrobe and plenty of hangers have been left for Kimi to use. His toiletries have been neatly ordered in the bathroom cupboard, so there’s space for Kimi’s toothbrush and toothpaste alongside his own. And, most importantly, there’s room for Kimi’s snacks alongside Ollie’s in the kitchen.

 

The kitchen is the last place that they go. Kimi does this deliberately. He cares about Ollie, deeply, and nothing could ever change that, but if he’s moved his things into the rest of the apartment then the state of the kitchen might not be dire enough that he’ll pack his things and head straight home. He’s seen the omelette video - everyone has seen the omelette video - and he’s bracing for the worst.

 

It’s… It’s not that bad. The fridge is sparsely stocked, but it does contain ingredients. There’s fresh produce, there’s meat, there’s… Leftovers that smell relatively safe. Really, Kimi counts himself lucky. At least until Ollie is grinning from ear to ear, beaming with pride and telling him to look at his spice rack.

 

On the high of the fridge, Kimi turns to face him with his expectations through the roof. Those expectations crash and burn the moment that Ollie points out his spice rack. 

 

Salt. Pepper. ‘Italian seasoning’. 

 

Ollie looks happier than he’s ever looked - and that includes their proper first kiss, and all the times Kimi’s seen him on the top step of a podium in their junior careers. Only an Englishman could look this pleased with a spice rack so pathetically and dilapidated, and Kimi finds he reaches the awful conclusion that this Englishman is his Englishman.

 

It’s because of this that they’re out of the apartment in a hurry, toning down their affection as soon as they step out of the front door. Kimi, used to wearing a mask, finds he doesn’t need to for the first time in forever. It’s hard to love a man that doesn’t own cumin, or star anise, or saffron. They return from the shop with two dozen different spices, bottles clacking in the bag as they go, as well as a selection of different cheeses, meats, and pastries they can only indulge in during the off season, and a canvas bag full of fruits and vegetables to restock the rather depleted looking refrigerator.

 

Somehow, they still end up ordering takeout and lounging on the sofa for their first night together. Any illusions Kimi had of romance are put on hold, though he finds he likes this more. The sun has set early, the air outside is cold - their apartment, by contrast, is snug and bright, and after a year of adrenaline seeking both on and off track he’s glad to be able to slow down. The thrill of being with Ollie hasn’t gone, but this evening is more relaxed, more domestic, and the most excitement they have is a brief fight over who gets the last piece of garlic bread.

 

Kimi wins, and he kicks his legs up over Ollie’s lap as a smug look spreads across his face. When he takes a bite, Ollie places a hand on his thigh and he squeezes softly to draw his attention.

 

“I meant it,” Ollie says.

 

He doesn’t meet Kimi’s eyes, and that makes him gaze at his boyfriend all the more curiously. He’s not sure what he’s referring to - unless it’s the threat he made mid-squabble about stealing all his socks if he got the garlic bread. Ollie’s tone doesn’t feel like he’s referring to the threat, though. He sounds… Nervous? Sad? 

 

“Meant what, Orsachiotto?” 

 

“I know it was kind of… A heat of the moment thing. Maybe it was a bit soon, and I rushed into it, but…”

 

He trails off, and Kimi has to spur him on again.

 

“But what?”

 

Ollie’s cheeks turn red, though his expression looks anxious when he finally looks up.

 

“Do you remember what I said in Abu Dhabi?” 

 

Kimi shakes his head a little bit, swallowing the last of the garlic bread as he grabs his diet coke to sip on. 

 

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s still… Hazy. A lot happened.”

 

Ollie nods his understanding, and he feels his thigh being squeezed again as his boyfriend seems to search for the confidence he needs to go on.

 

“Before you went off to save us all,” he says slowly, and Kimi feels Ollie’s eyes on him as his reactions are carefully observed. “I told you I loved you. And I just wanted to tell you again, because I meant it. I still mean it. I wasn’t just saying it because I thought you might die.”

 

Kimi deliberately takes another swig of his drink, mostly to buy himself more time to process it. Both that Ollie was aware of just how likely it was for him to die and the fear he must’ve felt, and that Ollie loved him. 

 

No, he loves him. Present tense.

 

“I’m sorry if that’s too soon. I mean, it’s probably a bit much for our first night together, isn’t it? Am I on the sofa tonight?” He laughs awkwardly, and Kimi notes that rambling seems to be his defence mechanism. 

 

“No, no, it’s not,” Kimi says quickly, shifting the way he’s sitting to reflect the weight of the conversation. “I mean… I love you too.”

 

The words come out of him unbidden, easily slipping from his lips. They ring in his ears, and Kimi lets them sit in the world for a long moment. They sound good, nice, right. He loves him.

 

Andrea Kimi Antonelli loves Oliver James Bearman. 

 

“I loved you first,” he tells him, laughing a little to lighten the moment.

 

“Really?” 

 

Kimi nods his head.

 

“I don’t know when I knew it was love. I’ve liked you for years, but… It wouldn’t have been later than Monaco, eh? When I saw the Hornet had his hands on you…”

 

He shudders a little at the memory. Monaco is a long time ago now, but the events of that evening have haunted him far longer than they had any right to. He can shower now, he can face the rain again, but he still remembers the fear of seeing Ollie in Sebastian’s grasp. Thinking about it, he can feel it just as intensely as before, and he reaches out to take Ollie’s hand and hold it tightly.

 

“I knew then that I would do anything to keep you safe. Whether I had to give you up, or die for you, I would do it.”

 

Ollie’s grip, somehow, becomes even tighter than his own.

 

“Will you live for me instead?” Ollie asks him quietly.

 

They’ve not talked about this since that night in Abu Dhabi. A conversation like this is difficult to have over a phone (though Kimi will admit it doesn’t feel too much easier in person). He moves closer to Ollie, so he can rest his head on his shoulder and press their bodies together as much as possible. 

 

“I’d like that a lot, Orsachiotto.”

 

Ollie reaches out for him, fingers brushing against the stubble on his cheeks, and it feels nice. His stomach feels warm as his chin is held in place by Ollie’s thumb and forefinger, and he finds himself licking his lips subconsciously. Living with Ollie is going to be a wonderful new adventure, but he fears for their ability to ever get anything productive done again. How is he going to be expected to cook and clean when he’s got his boyfriend in such close proximity? How can he be expected to work out when his boyfriend is moving his free hand over his body to dip beneath his t-shirt and hold his waist? What kind of a man could think about booking his flight to London to start preparing for the upcoming season when his boyfriend is leaning in and capturing his lips in a kiss.

 

It’s soft, and sweet, and moreish to the point that Kimi forgets about the pint of ice cream in the freezer they’d planned on sharing for dessert. He doesn’t need dessert when he’s got Ollie like this. He kisses back quickly, chasing Ollie as he pulls away, whining back the gesture comes to an early pause.

 

“You taste like garlic.”

 

Ollie’s words are accompanied with the playful scrunch of his nose, and Kimi rolls his eyes as he moves his hands to his cheeks and holds him firmly in place.

 

“Stop complaining,” he grins. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

 

+ + +

 

Bologna, Italy
Saturday 14 February 2026

 

Kimi’s body aches.

 

It’s unsurprising. Even with several weeks still to go until the season gets underway the opportunity for rest and relaxation has come to a close. He’s just finished the second of three tests before the season opener in Melbourne. After five days in Barcelona he’s now just completed three in Bahrain, and his schedule is well and truly packed. This weekend is a fleeting visit - his last opportunity to see his family before they fly out to Australia with him - before he’s back in London on Monday morning going over the data from the test, and then back to Bahrain on Wednesday for the third and final test. For the team, it’s crucial information. New regulations mean whole new cars, and that means a host of mechanical gremlins that need ironing out before the season starts (ideally, at least), as well as a need to calibrate their wind tunnel and simulation data with real life running. 

 

In a perfect world, Kimi would’ve moved the dates of the test around enough to allow him time to see his family and to fly back to Monaco and spend Valentine’s Day with his boyfriend, but now that he and Ollie live and work together they’re barely ever separate. They indulged in room service yesterday evening as an early Valentine’s treat, and Kimi’s stomach is still sore from the mountain of tiramisu they shared.

 

No other reason.

 

Valentine’s Day also means that his plans to see his family have rendered him more or less a glorified babysitter for the evening. It wasn’t something he was expecting, not until his father mentioned that he and their mother had a reservation in the city for dinner on the drive back from the airport, but Kimi’s hectic lifestyle means that a quiet night is appreciated just as much as the warm embrace of his family. He’ll be able to see his parents tomorrow, for tonight he can just sit with his feet up and catch up on some mind numbing Instagram reels. Babysitting Maggie is an easy affair, given she’s just a few months away from turning eleven and really doesn’t need watching, so he’s settled in for an evening on the sofa with no expectation that anything else will happen.

 

At this point, Kimi should really know that expecting nothing means something will undoubtedly happen, and this is another such occasion. He’s holding his phone in one hand and playing with his necklaces in the other - four, now that his spider charm has been threaded and hung around his neck so it’s never far from his heart - and he spots movement out of his peripheral vision.

 

Kimi turns his phone off and he looks up, and he spots his sister. Rather than sitting in her room and experimenting with the new lip gloss she’s spent her pocket money on, she’s standing in front of him. Rather than the new grown up clothes she wore to the airport, she’s in dark sweatpants and a baggy black hoodie. Rather than smiling from ear to ear, she’s looking at Kimi rather uneasily.

 

“Andy?” She asks, hands shoved deep into her pockets as she sways back and forth. “I think it happened.”

 

Her Italian sounds anxious, and Kimi tilts his head curiously to one side. For a moment he wonders if he’s going to have to be the one to tackle puberty and sit her down and explain periods and her reproductive cycle - something he feels woefully ill equipped to do - but he finds himself relieved when she pulls her hands from her pockets and rolls her sleeves up to her elbows.

 

“I made web.” 

 

He relaxes, a weight off his shoulders, and he sits upright and beckons Maggie to come and sit beside him.

 

“You did, tesoro?” He smiles, trying to alleviate her clear anxiety about the situation. “That’s exciting, eh?”

 

“It’s scary!” She counters, slotting in beside him. “I thought it would be fun before but now that it’s happening and it’s real, it’s frightening!” 

 

“Don’t be scared,” he tells her, reaching for her hands. “I promised I would teach you, no? I will teach you.”

 

Kimi’s fingers rest behind her hands, his thumbs sit against her palms, and he gives a tight squeeze as he tries to reassure her. It’s not really a surprise that this has happened to her - not after how many times she was bitten by that spider - and he finds himself just glad that he’s there. He’d hate for this to have happened in a month’s time when he’s half way across the world and she’s left floundering, trying to deal with it herself.

 

“Why does it scare you, tesoro?” He asks her gently.

 

As they speak, he moves his hands down to her wrists and rubs his thumbs over her veins. He can just about feel where she excretes her web - the smallest of divots where her veins would’ve been - and he hums to himself.

 

“I’m only ten!” She explains, her voice wavering. “You had to save the world, I don’t know how to do that. I don’t want to think about anything that happened again, I want to forget about it all and just be Maggie.” 

 

Kimi’s smile softens, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that he keeps from her. He understands that, the desire to just be normal, but when he looks up at her he tries to make his expression something that should reassure her.

 

“You do not have to save the world, Maggie,” he says, his words firm even as his tone is soft. “You do not have to be different. You are Maggie, my sister, and you are more than enough just the way you are.”

 

He closes her hands together and clasps them between his own. Her skin is a rich olive, and his is now jet black. The effects of the venom on his body are something he’s learned to deal with over the last few months, and his insecurities about his appearance have abated in recent weeks. At least Maggie shouldn’t have to deal with that - he can’t imagine how much more difficult that would make the next few years of her young life. 

 

“With great power comes great responsibility,” he says, echoing the words that had once been said to him. “But it is your choice if you want that responsibility. You did not ask for these powers, tesoro, they were forced upon you. If you don’t want to be a hero, you don’t have to be. You just have to make sure you aren’t a villain instead.”

 

Maggie nods her head, and Kimi moves one hand to cup her cheek instead. He feels her lean into the gesture and close her eyes, and he doesn’t rush her through it. She’s going through a lot right now, and even if she knew that something like this might happen it’s still a lot to process, so he gives her all the time that she needs to process it. He never had that. Not because Sergi ever did anything not to support him, but because they were both venturing into the unknown together. He never truly explored his powers until last year, he never understood a fundamental part of himself, and now that he does know he intends on making sure he gets this time right for her.

 

“What are you going to teach me?” Maggie asks after a quiet moment of reflection.

 

Her eyes open again, and with it there’s a lightness he feels as though he hasn’t seen since long before Abu Dhabi - perhaps as long ago as Austin. Sebastian took a lot from her, but her spark is beginning to return and her curiosity and eagerness to learn still defines her. He’ll never be able to take that. 

 

“I can show you how to control your web,” he explains. “If you don’t, it can come out by accident if you’re stressed or you’re scared, and it feels bad if you don’t use it. Like a blocked nose.”

 

“Can I learn how to swing like you too?” 

 

That feels like a more questionable decision at this point in her life. She’s ten, going on sixteen the way that she acts, and teaching her how to swing means there’s going to be nothing their parents can do to stop her from sneaking out the moment she realises there’s a world outside worth exploring after dark. But not teaching her won’t stop her from doing that, it just means that she’ll do it without proper instruction. He remembers picking splinters out of his hand on the flight home from Jeddah after his attempted use of a tree to cushion his fall, and he’d rather not subject her to that.

 

“We’ll see if we have time,” he bargains.

 

That only seems to further the excitement already growing on her face, and Maggie sits obediently still beside him as he starts to go through the lessons Sergi gave him last year. His lessons are more streamlined than those he was given in Bahrain. Sergi never had the powers that he did, which meant he was making things up on the spot. Kimi’s fingers move over Maggie’s hands easily, knowing how his own body works and - in turn - how hers does. His thumbs press the right spots to make her web shoot out, and he angles her fingers properly to demonstrate how to control the muscles that tighten and relax.

 

She is a quick learner, which doesn’t surprise him at all. Everything she does, she’s always been a natural at. Whether it’s school, or gymnastics, or - apparently - learning how to control her webs. The strength she needs to be able to use her powers for long periods of time is something that will only come with training, but she’s picked up enough that he’s unable to resist her pleading eyes when she badgers him about taking to the skies.

 

So Kimi gets changed into a dark outfit of his own - a similar black hoodie and sweatpants ensemble - and he tucks his old robotic friend into his pocket. Pedro the spider has lived in idle mode in his childhood bedroom, slowly collecting cobwebs over the past few weeks, but even if he’s not planning on waking him up it simply wouldn’t be a trip without him. So with Pedro in tow, he meets Maggie in the back garden. The night is clear, and despite the light pollution of the city he can still see a few nearby stars twinkling above them. He can see his breath, too, his whole skin covered with goosebumps as he shivers and rubs his hands together. 

 

“It’s not that cold,” Maggie giggles.

 

Her teeth are chattering, but they’re brother and sister. At the end of the day, it’s about being able to one-up him. If he’s cold, then she isn’t - simple as.

 

“Alright,” he smiles, shaking his head. “We won’t go far, eh? To the towers. We will stop on Asinelli.”

 

Maggie nods, her excitement palpable, and Kimi lets her go first. They both know the way to the towers so he isn’t at all concerned that she’ll get lost, instead he’d rather be behind her in case he can see her webs starting to strain and be on hand to catch her if she falls. So he stands back, and he watches, as Maggie turns her hands over in front of her face and prepares for launch. He remembers the first time he swung, the rush of adrenaline, the anxiety that he might not be able to stop, and he feels himself smiling fondly at the memory - his mind editing out all the less enjoyable parts of that evening for the sake of his sanity. After one final heavy breath, indicated by the rise and fall of her shoulders, Maggie bursts out into a run and carries herself swiftly through frost covered grass. She raises one hand above her head and lets out a shout as she releases her web, and when it anchors to the neighbouring house her momentum launches her from her ground and her feet start to move through the air with little resistance.

 

Kimi laughs, running after her and shooting out his own web to swing behind her. It’s been a while since he’s used his powers like this, and Kimi can feel the dust blowing off his unused muscles as he soars through the sky. He keeps one eye on Maggie - who’s years of gymnastics mean she’s already a far more elegant swinger than he could ever hope to be - but he allows himself to enjoy the feeling too. 

 

Swinging without the weight of the world on his shoulders, without the risk of death, is wonderful. He should really do it more often now that his secret is out.

 

The town beneath them is busy, filled with couples going about romantic evenings, and Kimi wonders if he should’ve at least Facetimed with Ollie. But the wind running through his hair shakes that thought from him promptly, and instead he finds himself thinking about how free he feels. His body loosens - he hadn’t realised just how tight his muscles were - and everything from his breathing to his thinking feels clearer and easier. 

 

As a little boy he dreamed of racing like the wind - this almost feels like he’s gone one step better.

 

Maggie doesn’t look to struggle at all throughout the journey, and she calls on her gymnastic training once again to twirl and flip effortlessly through the sky. Every so often, he can hear her breathless laughter carried towards him, and he knows he’s done the right thing in teaching her how to do this.

 

When they land at the very top of the Asinelli tower - above the platform tourists ascend to on the oxidised copper roof - Maggie is positively jubilant. Her eyes are sparkling, she’s practically bouncing and raring to go again, and she almost looks disappointed when Kimi invites her to sit beside him as he catches his own breath.

 

She does sit beside him though, with little complaint, and he smiles as she again tucks her head beneath his arm. 

 

These moments will become ever more infrequent in the years to come - as she grows up and he becomes uncool - and so he takes care to cherish it. He tugs her closer, encouraging her to rest her head against his chest, and she snakes her own arms around his waist as they sit in the cool night air. He absent mindedly runs his fingers through her hair, rubbing a hand on her shoulder to keep her warm. 

 

This high above the city it’s still - almost quiet - but they aren’t quite out of earshot of the bustle below. There’s music and laughter in the streets, crowds walking about beneath them without giving any thought to their presence. It’s nice just to exist like this. No one is watching, no one is expecting anything, he is just Kimi, and his sister is just Maggie. 

 

“Do you think anyone else will ever be like them again?” Maggie asks softly, breaking their gentle peace.

 

As much as Kimi wishes he could lie, he knows there’s no point to it. Maggie is a perfectly intelligent girl, and she’s always been able to see through him. 

 

“There are always evil people, tesoro,” he tells her sadly. “It is not a case of if anyone else will ever be like them, but when. There are probably some now that we don’t know about, hm?” 

 

He watches her nod, accepting the information she’s been presented with, and then she turns to look at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

 

“Will they hurt me again?”

 

The question makes Kimi’s heart hurt. He holds her tighter in response, leaning down to be able to press a kiss to the top of her head.

 

“I hope not,” he says, honesty prevailing once again. “The reason they hurt you this time… It was my fault. They wanted to hurt me, and to them a good way to hurt me was to hurt the people I love. That’s why Sebastian made you a target, tesoro. It had nothing to do with you, it was never anything to do with you.”

 

She nods again, biting down on her bottom lip softly.

 

“I feel so silly when I think about it,” she admits. “I thought Bombo was a friend. She was so nice. I told mamma and babbo when she talked to me, but they said I was just imagining things. And then she would tell me to keep the things I said a secret… They didn’t listen anyway, so it made sense not to tell anyone!” 

 

It’s Kimi’s turn to nod, and he remains quiet to encourage her to continue. He’s learned first hand how terrible of an idea bottling things up is, he won’t let his sister experience such a fate.

 

“She was nice at first. If I had a bad dream she would say nice things, she made me feel safe. Sometimes she would tell me to go outside, so I did. I did everything she told me to do. But when I got a new one after Monza, she was worse. I still listened to her, because I loved her, but she would get angry if I was too slow. Sometimes she smelled funny when I went to sleep, like in Mexico, and then when I woke up I felt… Weird.” 

 

Kimi swallows. He remembers what happened in Mexico all too well. After her sleepwalking episode in Las Vegas, he’d gotten his hopes up that it might be something like this - that she might at least be unconscious for whatever Sebastian had done to her - and he finds himself relieved that she might never be able to fill those gaps in her head. She’ll never have to think about the people she killed under Sebastian’s command.

 

He still thinks about Liège. About the screams, the cries, the stench of burning and the sickening feeling of watching blood drain from a body. He would never, ever wish such nightmares upon her.

 

“Do you remember what happened before I found you in Abu Dhabi?” He asks softly.

 

Kimi lets out a breath when she shakes her head. 

 

“I went to sleep after your race in Qatar,” Maggie replies. “And when I woke up I was tied up and you were hanging from the ceiling with your friend.”

 

He kisses the top of her head again, cradling her protectively in his arms.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kimi reassures her. “He tricked you, he manipulated you, you could never have stopped him, okay? I barely managed to stand up to him, and I never would’ve done it alone.”

 

“I don’t want to be alone again.”

 

Kimi hums, and then he shifts a little, pulling one arm away from her and instead reaching into his pocket. Because this… It feels right. 

 

“Maybe you don’t have to be alone, eh?” He starts, and Maggie pulls back from his embrace to look up at him.

 

As she watches, he pulls Pedro from his pocket and smiles down at the idle form of his dear ally. The last time he was awake, he promised Sergi that he would take on his role as protector. Kimi feels like he’s gotten rather good at taking care of himself, though, and he has Bono, Esteban, Doriane, and another Pedro to help him if he needs it. They’re almost always with him, but he can’t always be with Maggie.

 

“This is my friend, Pedro,” he tells her gently, letting him rest in the palm of his hand. “There’s a button on his head.”

 

Maggie needs no further encouragement to press the button - exactly as Kimi predicted - and he watches as the android jumps to life. He spins, despite the fact that he hasn’t used his mechanical joints in over two months, and takes in the world around him. Kimi swears he can see the wonder in his digital eyes, and he’s never been more certain that he will make an excellent companion to his ever inquisitive little sister.

 

“Silver Spider!”

 

“Pedro,” Kimi smiles, his voice soft as he switches seamlessly to English for the robot. “I missed you.”

 

“Pedro has missed the Silver Spider also! Pedro’s systems indicate that he has been in idle mode for 61 days! Pedro wishes to hear all about the adventures of the Silver Spider!”

 

Kimi chuckles, and he swallows back a few tears. He’s not sure where they’re coming from - it’s not like this is goodbye forever - but they continue to prick at his eyes even as he fights to blink them away.

 

“I have a new mission for you, Pedro,” he says quietly. “I would like you to stay with my sister, Maggie, and take care of her.”

 

Pedro turns in his hand, and he makes eye contact with Maggie - who’s staring down at him in awe. 

 

“Miss Maggie!” He declares happily. “My name is Pedro! The Silver Spider has requested that I take care of you!”

 

“He can do almost anything,” Kimi tells her. “And what he can’t do, he makes up for with enthusiasm. Pedro, my engineer, he managed to reprogramme him when you were missing,” he explains, deciding to keep things deliberately vague. “I’m sure if you want him to do anything else he’ll be able to find a way to make it work.”

 

“I get to keep him?” She asks hopefully, and Kimi nods his head.

 

“Hold your hands out,” he encourages.

 

When she does just that, Kimi lowers his own hand and presses their fingers together. Pedro steps forward confidently, and Kimi feels the transfer of his weight from his hand to Maggie’s. Pulling his hand back without his friend sitting carefully on top of it feels odd, but looking at the way that Maggie holds him feels so very natural. 

 

“Pedro is excited to serve Miss Maggie!”

 

“Does he speak any Italian?” Maggie asks, and Kimi shakes his head.

 

When she sighs, he can’t help but laugh. It makes the bittersweet feeling fade, and he’s terribly glad of that. His laughter is boisterous and loud, it’s hearty, it’s real. It lasts for longer than it possibly should’ve done, but it feels nice to be able to laugh. 

 

“Silver Spider,” Pedro chimes in, capturing his attention once again.

 

Kimi looks back at his old friend and nods, offering him a sad smile.

 

“Yes, Pedro?”

 

“Pedro will miss the Silver Spider.”

 

“I’ll miss you too,” he whispers. “But… My sister needs you now, eh? You’ll take care of her?”

 

“Miss Maggie will always be safe with Pedro, Silver Spider.”

 

He nods his thanks, sniffling and wiping his eyes before his sister can catch the fact that he’s about to shed a few tears over a spider. 

 

“Right, Miss Maggie,” he says, reverting back to Italian as Pedro scuttles along her arm and settles on her shoulder. “Last one home has to do the dishes?”

 

Maggie whoops eagerly, throwing herself off the edge of the tower with complete faith in her new powers, and Kimi jumps after her. He swings as fast as he can, but in the end there was never any competition. Maggie is a gymnast, and she was bitten by that spider six more times than he was.

 

He was always going to be the one doing the dishes.

 

+ + +

 

Melbourne, Australia
Sunday 15 March 2026

 

Warm sun beats down over Kimi’s shoulders as he sits on the Prema pit wall, arms folded across his chest and headset over his ears. He can hear the roar of mechachrome engines on the other side of the wall as the Formula 3 grid completes their first Feature Race formation lap of the year, and Kimi leans to the side to look out at the cars as they line up where they qualified. Today, that means Doriane Pin is third, and eager to keep her podium and push forward to have an opportunity to score even more points. 

 

All weekend she’s been the talk of the Formula 3 paddock. The controversy surrounding her F1 Academy title, the fact that she’s bounced back from the brink of death to be fit enough to drive, and - a view mostly taken by those who’ve qualified behind her - shock that a girl could be so fast. Kimi won’t pretend he isn’t looking forward to having Doriane around more often, if only to watch her slowly change the world. 

 

The ripples of her presence are already slowly being felt around them. There’s more interest in the series, more women in the crowd, more little girls turning to their parents and asking if they can try out go-karting. Susie might not be heading up the programme anymore, but he can tell she’s proud of how visible an impact the series is having now that more and more young women are starting to climb the feeder series ladder. Because Doriane isn’t the only girl on the grid. Alba is too - her performance impressive enough even without a title to her name that she’s stepped up - and so are Abi and Maya.

 

Four drivers out of thirty is only a drop in the ocean, but it’s an important step regardless.

 

Kimi focuses back on the action when engines start to rev, and he feels his breath hitch in his chest as he looks to the five lights above the grid. When they snap out, his foot moves reflexively, and he can hear the voice of his engineer in his head telling him that he was a little deep. He makes a mental note to practice it later, and then allows himself to be immersed in the racing that unfolds.

 

Like any feeder series race, it’s chaos. There’s yellow flags, there’s safety cars, there’s penalties galore. But none of that matters when the chequered flag is flown and the cars breeze over the finish line, turbulent air blowing Kimi’s hair in his face as he stands on the pit wall and cheers for the leader - for Doriane Pin - as she wins her maiden Formula 3 race.

 

He sprints with Prema to the end of the pit lane to meet her at Parc Ferme, his heart swelling with pride as he pushes to the front of the barriers. Kimi is more than happy to deal with the wrath of the photographers hoping to snatch a picture, and he’s not against getting his elbows out as he ensures that he’s one of the first people that she sees. Her first congratulations come over the radio, of course, and then the next comes from Abi - a podium finisher in her own right - but as she pulls her helmet and balaclava from her head he feels her eyes searching the crowd. 

 

When she smiles at him, her eyes crinkle, and Kimi feels warmth radiating from her as she runs right to him.

 

Pulling her into his arms has never felt easier. After everything they’ve been through together, the highs and lows of being in the same academy as well as the highs and lows of trying to save the world, their friendship has only become stronger. They’ve seen Hell, they’ve fought through it side by side, and somehow they’ve lived to tell the tale - that’s not the kind of bond that can be undone. 

 

Kimi holds her tightly against his chest, resting his head on her shoulder as she pats his back enthusiastically. Adrenaline is still surging through her body and her elation is far more potent and physical than his. They only embrace for a moment before she’s moving to hug her team, and Kimi remains where he is to cheer for her all the while. 

 

He stays through the interviews, through the cooldown room, and - of course - through the podium. Doriane is on the top step, holding her head high as the French anthem rings out over the paddock. Teams are busy preparing for the Formula 2 race already, and fans are still slowly pouring into the grandstands as the build up for the Grand Prix gradually starts to unfold, but for Kimi and the select few that stay to honour the feeder series, Doriane is the one they’re all looking at. 

 

When the champagne pops, a thin mist drifts over those in the crowd as Doriane and Abi look as though they’re making a concerted effort to drown each other and the P2 finisher, Christian Ho. The sun shines down on them so brightly that Kimi swears he sees the briefest of rainbows in front of him, before a gust of wind carries the spray away like a curtain. The music ringing out comes to a close, and the podium is cleared away as Kimi has to begin preparing for his own race.

 

With any luck, next time he hears that music it’s because he’ll be standing up there. Preferably in the same spot as Doriane.

 

His routine to prepare for a race hasn’t changed all that much in the last few months, and so Kimi finds himself going through his usual motions. He sits in on meetings with the team to talk about strategy, to consider the wealth of information gathered during testing that might cause problems or spark opportunities. The Mercedes engine is, unsurprisingly, the best on the grid, but a title fight that went down to the wire last year meant both they and McLaren have been on the back foot in terms of development for the season. Despite the chasm of difference in engine performance, Ferrari have already proven themselves to be worthy challengers. As the season unfolds, that’s likely to change, but Kimi’s got his work cut out for him this weekend if he wants to make it past Oliver Bearman, starting his second race in red from the front of the grid. 

 

The start of the season comes with more admin. Instead of just being able to saunter out for the driver parade, he’s pulling his race suit over his clothes and heading to the front of the grid to take their Class of 2026 photographs. Journalists are swarming the grid, the tarmac beneath them hot to the touch. He and George are running late, jogging between everyone to make it to their spot in good time, and it gives Kimi an opportunity to take a proper look at how much the grid has changed. 

 

A few teams are unchanged. Mercedes is one of those - with both he and George returning for another year. George is determined to win the title he so narrowly missed out on last season, and he is going to do everything in his power to deny his teammate that opportunity by seizing the title himself. Williams still have Alex and Carlos, Aston Martin still have Fernando and Lance, Alpine still have Pierre and Jack, and even VCARB have kept their line up of Isack and Liam. The only thing that has changed at Sauber is the name of the team - with Nico Hulkenberg and Gabriel Bortoleto in Audi maroon overalls. 

 

Most of what’s changed has happened at the front of the grid. Lewis Hamilton’s retirement gave way for Oliver Bearman’s promotion, and his empty seat at Haas has been filled by Yuki Tsunoda, staying in the sport by the skin of his teeth as Red Bull continue in their longstanding game of musical chairs. It’s nice to see another rookie in a top team - Arvid partnering Max means that Kimi has someone who’ll really understand what he went through (as close as anyone can get to understanding how his rookie season unfolded, anyway). McLaren are another team with a rookie in their line-up. Alex Dunne is taking the seat left vacant by Lando Norris, departing after watching his teammate take the title in the team he’d spent the better part of a decade building.

 

Now he’s adorned in the black and yellow overalls of Cadillac, alongside Dino Beganovic - the third and final rookie for the season. It’s an impressive intake, but one filled with worthy candidates. 

 

Kimi takes his place alongside George and he slips the necklaces out from under his race suit. He’ll have to take them off when he’s driving, but he isn’t driving right now. If photographs are being taken, then he wants the spider charm around his neck to glisten and take centre stage in every picture. Sergi is the only reason that he’s able to stand here and look forward to the race ahead, so Sergi deserves to be part of this.

 

For a few minutes, they’re all directed to look this way and that, or to smile then look serious. The crowd cheers, and the drivers wave, and the poor man responsible for coordinating the twenty two of them tries to coral them back into place and keep them to the timetable. But eventually the photographers have had their fill, and they’re released from where they’re standing to walk to the truck for the Driver Parade. Kimi, immediately, shrugs his race suit off his shoulders and ties it around his waist, cursing just how hot it is - and how much worse that heat feels dressed head to toe in black.

 

It’s the hottest day of the year so far, and Kimi knows that. Everyone knows that. He can’t stop thinking about what happened last year, how the protest started so small, how things escalated dramatically and the message that was hijacked and used as cover for such evil has been ruined. Now when people think about global warming they don’t think about what they can do to combat it, they think about how many people died in attacks in the name of activism. It’s going to take time to undo the damage - a lot of time - and he’s doing everything that he can to lead that charge. Because maybe if people associate him with saving the world, then he can save the world a second time.

 

It’s bizarre to stand on the truck as it trundles slowly around the track, thinking back on everything that’s happened in the last twelve months. A year ago he was preparing for his first race as a rookie, barely thinking about the vandalism that made him feel uneasy during a photoshoot earlier in the week. A year ago he was looking at the rain and wondering if he’d survive the first lap. A year ago he wondered if the team had made a mistake in promoting him so early.

 

Now he feels confident in himself, and he plays with the spider around his neck as he thinks about the future. 

 

He’s interviewed early on, and he answers the questions about his race with a charismatic smile that will make his PR team swoon, and tight lips that will make the strategy team celebrate. As soon as he’s freed, Kimi wanders to the back of the truck and leans against the railing. He could fall into an easy conversation with any number of drivers, but he casts his smile in Esteban’s direction.

 

“Hi, mate,” he says, moving his hands in front of him as he speaks. “Your car looks good this year, eh? P11 isn’t bad.”

 

“You don’t have to sign,” Esteban laughs softly, bringing a hand to his ear and pointing at the hearing aids. “I have them turned on. I usually only turn them off when Ollie is talking to me.”

 

Kimi laughs with him, folding his arms across his chest as he makes himself comfortable.

 

“What did they ask you?” Esteban asks him. “Should I brace?”

 

Kimi shrugs a little, then shakes his head.

 

“They asked about the car, about the strategy, and about whether or not I’m going to play the team game with George,” he smiles. “It’s like they’ve already forgotten about us.”

 

Esteban nods, and Kimi continues.

 

“Do you miss it?”

 

“I still have my comics,” Esteban grins. “Reading them is a lot safer than fighting off bad guys myself.” 

 

Kimi chuckles, raising his eyebrows and titling his head.

 

“Just a little bit, eh?” He jokes. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for it. For saving me, and fighting with me, and…”

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Esteban assures him. “Just, maybe next time get Mercedes to put some kind of ear protection into their suits?”

 

The words stir a little guilt in Kimi’s stomach, but he can tell by the look on Esteban’s face that he’s joking.

 

“Hey, I told you, I get to turn my ears off when Ollie talks now,” he grins. “But something tells me you wouldn’t want that.”

 

Kimi feels himself blush, and he ducks his head a little as Esteban nudges his shoulder playfully. Unfortunately, he knows too well that there isn’t an argument on Earth that he can use to get out of this one, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything anyway. An arm is thrown around his shoulder, and George has put on his best GPDA Director face behind his sunglasses.

 

“Kimi, is this guy harassing you?” George asks, a cheeky tone accompanying his stern expression.

 

Esteban raises his hands and taps the little device in his ears, and the group laughs.

 

The start of a new season is always like this, and with the regulation changes everyone is even more positive. Rivalries from last season are forgotten, grudges about penalties and impeding have been put to one side, and every driver is just keen to see what the season will bring. Between rookies and new cars, the order of teams and drivers is almost certainly going to see a monumental shift, and that means the atmosphere for the duration of the parade is somewhere between nervous excitement and giddy suspense. By the time they make it around the track, there’s only 90 minutes left until the race starts, and Kimi is one of the first off the truck. He waves politely to the people cheering his name in the grandstands as he wanders back to the garage, ready to go through his pre-race routine.

 

But Kimi isn’t alone.

 

As he disappears from public view and starts to make his way back to hospitality, he feels something against his hand. No, not something, someone. 

 

He doesn’t get the chance to turn around before he’s being spun, and he stumbles to catch himself as Oliver Bearman reaches out to balance him instead. His eyebrows raise, and he looks at his boyfriend questioningly. 

 

“How did you manage that without falling over?” He ponders aloud. 

 

“Esteban helped me rehearse for an hour earlier,” Ollie replies easily.

 

He would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall for that - or a spider, for that matter - and he finds that he’s sorely disappointed he didn’t get to witness it.

 

“I thought he looked bruised on the parade,” Kimi teases.

 

“I only dropped him four times!” Ollie rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

 

Even if they’re out of view of the crowd here, they’re still very much in the Mercedes garage. Mechanics grumble quietly as they move around the obstacle that is Kimi and Ollie, but no one says anything to them directly. No one, that is, except the substantive Team Principal - Peter Bonnington. 

 

“Oliver,” he calls, looking up from his notes. “As far as I’m aware, I only employ one ludicrously tall British driver, and it’s not you.”

 

Ollie’s turned as red as his Ferrari overalls, and Kimi giggles softly.

 

“You’re starting from pole, I don’t need you snooping around looking at our set ups or listening in to our strategy conversations. And I certainly don’t need you distracting my driver.”

 

Kimi joins Ollie in looking sheepish - like two school boys being scolded by the headmaster - but Bono’s words have an edge to them that lets them know he isn’t really mad with them. Still, when he looks away, they share a final look before daring to part.

 

“I hope you’re on the podium when I win,” Ollie tells him softly. 

 

“I hope you’re on the podium when I win,” Kimi corrects him.

 

It’s a shame that they’re in the garage, that they can’t step forward and press their lips together, but it’s only a matter of hours until they’re going to be back in their hotel rooms and able to share each other privately before their flight out in the morning. Kimi can put his feelings to one side for a few hours whilst a win is on the line, and he’s sure Ollie is perfectly capable of the same. So as Ollie leaves through the front of the garage, Kimi exits through the back and returns to his driver room to start warming up for the race ahead. 

 

It’s a strange process to go through without Sergi, but he’s taking everything step by step. His new trainer is a man named Iñigo, after Susie and George both suggested reaching out to the same company, and they get along well. They’re both learning a lot, and Kimi is forcing himself not to compare him to Sergi at every juncture. He met Sergi when he was a child, of course their relationship isn’t going to feel the same. Of course there’s going to be bumps in the road as Iñigo learns Kimi’s mind and body - he is a rather unique case these days.

 

Once his body is ready, he makes his way to the garage once more and goes through the motions of preparing to go to the grid. He pulls on his balaclava, and Iñigo helps him with his helmet the same way that Sergi used to. He takes off his necklaces, handing them to his trainer along with his charms, and he watches as they’re placed safely to one side - to be returned to him as soon as the race is over. From then it’s a case of getting in the car, allowing the team to buckle him in, and performing his first radio check of the afternoon.

 

“Good afternoon, Pedro!” He says cheerfully, and he sees his engineer wave and give him a thumbs up.

 

“Loud and clear, thank you Kimi,” he confirms.

 

Bringing Pedro up from Prema was the only thing Kimi actively negotiated for his 2026 contract. The rest of the terms were completely fine - mostly a continuation of his 2025 contract with adjustments made to performance clauses and bonuses. His management team have, thankfully, handled that, and Kimi is relieved that he doesn’t have to think too hard about the small print. He’s lucky he’s got a great team of people looking out for him.

 

He’s just missing one person.

 

Pedro lowers his hand when it’s time for him to leave the garage, and the tyre warmers are removed from the front of his car as he’s waved out into the pit lane for his reconnaissance laps. The track beneath him feels good, the tyres feel grippy, and the engine feels mighty. He practices his start at the end of the pit lane on several occasions, until he stops going too deep, and he finally pulls up to the back of the grid. The team lifts the car and wheels him forward, taking him to his grid slot, before he climbs out of the car for a quick debrief with Pedro. They go over the data they’ve gathered from those few short laps to make a few last minute adjustments and pick their preferred strategy.

 

With ten minutes to go before the anthem, Kimi excuses himself to head back to the garage briefly to relieve himself before the race. He’s heading out again in two, shaking his hands dry, and is stopped when he hears the sound of mischievous giggling. When he turns around to see where it’s coming from, he finds himself groaning quietly.

 

One mischievous giggler in the form of his sister is never good, but when she’s laughing with Doriane? Something is afoot.

 

“What have you done?” He asks them both.

 

Maggie, who’s insisted on growing like a weed since he saw her a few weeks ago, just flutters her eyelashes with a childlike innocence and smiles sweetly. So Kimi looks to Doriane, who attempts to do the same. Doriane, though, isn’t his sister, and so as Kimi rests his hands on his hips and looks vaguely disappointed, she spills quickly.

 

“We put Pedro in Ollie’s room,” she explains, and Maggie gasps at the betrayal. 

 

“It was meant to be a prank! Now he’s going to tell him!” His sister complains.

 

Kimi, instead, just laughs and shakes his head.

 

“Your secret is safe with me, tesoro,” he assures her, tapping the side of his nose and winking. “Just make sure that you get his reaction, okay? He is terrified of spiders, it will be hilarious.” 

 

Maggie nods her head, and efficiently delegates the task of filming Ollie’s reaction to Doriane there and then, who takes her instruction easily. Kimi is aware that he only has a few short minutes before he needs to be at the front of the grid, lest he risk a fine, and so he wraps up his conversation quickly. First, by kissing the top of Maggie’s head, and then by stepping back and speaking to her.

 

“Will you cheer for me today?” He asks, just in case she’s grown up too much to support him in the last few weeks.

 

“Always,” she replies.

 

There’s a glint in her eye that tells him she means it.

 

Kimi smiles, and he squeezes her shoulder firmly before he turns to leave with a wave - both to her and to their mother, already sitting at the back of the garage. His father, like always, is still on the grid with the car, and so he departs on his scooter to make his way to the anthem. 

 

At the front of the grid, Kimi slots into his spot between Max and Oscar, stealing the shade from Max’s umbrella. He shakes the hand of the child standing in front of him and answers all manner of questions from the little girl about his adventures, standing back upright and silent when the anthem starts to play. He can hear Oscar singing beneath his breath beside him, and he almost feels bad for calculating the best way to fend him off on the first lap. 

 

Almost, anyway.

 

When the anthem is over, Kimi makes his way back to his car on foot, and he goes through his final preparation. 

 

He stretches. He puts on his balaclava. Iñigo hands him his helmet and does up the straps beneath his chin, before making sure all the fastenings and inputs are in the right place. Marco manages to push between his trainer and engineer to give him a hug - kissing the top of his helmet and patting his visor closed - before he joins much of the team in leaving the grid behind. 

 

Kimi feels confident as he settles into his seat, mentally going through breathing exercises as he’s fastened in. The team complete their checklist, and as a klaxon blares the tyre blankets are lifted from his car to reveal yellow rimmed medium compound tyres. Mechanics clear away from the grid, and the final seconds tick down to the formation lap.

 

Ollie leads the field away ahead of him, and Kimi gets away well. According to Pedro, his clutch was perfectly on target, and he’s glad that those practice starts have paid off. He weaves back and forth, building heat into his tyres and his brakes, and he feels adrenaline start to flood his system. It takes less than two minutes until he’s pulling back into his grid box and waiting for the rest of the field to join him.

 

Everything he’s been preparing for over the last few weeks, all the hours of training and practice he’s put in, it all comes down to this. To the second Cadillac pulling into its spot at the rear of the grid, to the green flag being waved, to the five red lights illuminating slowly in front of him.

 

Kimi holds his breath. He doesn’t blink. 

 

Twenty four races stand between him and a World Championship.

 

He’s going to do it for Sergi. He’s going to make him proud.

Notes:

Wow. Okay. So this 10k one shot got a little bit out of hand!

Honestly, saying goodbye to this universe is so strange. I just wanted to write a silly birthday present for my dear friend Autumn, and now there's this world I've created filled with characters and stories I never could've imagined at the start of the year. Superheroes is a genre I've never really been that interested in (I *still* haven't watched the Spiderman movies...), so to have turned a concept that only mildly interested me into something that's basically been my personality for 6 months is kind of crazy!

I'm gobsmacked that it's so long - 10k one shot joke aside. It more than doubles my previous longest fic. I've been working on this since March. I probably wouldn't have seen it through (no, I definitely wouldn't have seen it through) if it wasn't for my fabulous friends Oli and Reo, who've been working overtime as my hype-people, and I wouldn't have gotten this far without a brilliant response from you all as well. Your comments have been so incredibly supportive. I've loved them all, whether you've yelled at me or come to me with a thousand different theories, thank you SO MUCH for engaging with the fic and for trusting me to actually finish it!

I will be taking a bit of a break before writing anything else, I'm sure you can imagine! You can find me on Tumblr if you want to chat, and on the Bearnelli Discord server (where we're currently talking about Halloween and Christmas prompts - so please please come join us and get involved!!).

I truly hope you've enjoyed this fic, it's been so much fun to write, but for now I'll say one last thank you, goodbye for now, and I'm going to go and catch up on my cross-stitch projects!!

Notes:

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