Two Years Later
Nico
The media room was already packed by the time I walked in.
Camera flashes burst the moment the door opened, lighting the entire room like a storm of artificial lightning as reporters leaned forward in their seats with microphones and recorders ready. It was interviews yet again, and it wasn't as if I was complaining because being in the spotlight was something that I enjoyed.
The familiar smell of electronics and overheated lights hung in the air while the massive screens behind the podium replayed highlights from the race that had just ended.
My race.
The commentators' voices echoed faintly from the speakers as the footage showed my car crossing the finish line ahead of the rest of the grid.
That was another win. Another trophy added to my collection.
Another weekend where everyone else had to watch Nico Park dominate the track.
The replay switched to the moment that had practically set the entire circuit on fire.
My car had been behind the leader for almost ten laps, waiting patiently and calculating every movement of the car ahead of me like I always did.
Then, on lap fifty-eight, I saw what I had been waiting for. The smallest mistake from the driver ahead of me gave me enough space on the inside of the corner, and I took it without hesitation.
The commentators were practically screaming during the replay.
"INCREDIBLE MOVE BY NICO PARK!"
"WHAT A PASS!"
"HE TAKES THE LEAD!"
The crowd's roar from the track resounded through the speakers, and even now it echoed faintly through the media room.
I adjusted the collar of my racing suit and strolled toward the stage without rushing, letting the reporters snap as many pictures as they wanted while the flashes bounced off the glossy floor.
Some of them were already calling my name before I even reached the chair waiting for me.
"Nico! Nico, over here!"
"How does it feel to take another win this season?"
"Is this shaping up to be another championship year for you?"
I dropped into the chair at the center of the table, leaning back lazily as if the entire scene bored me rather than thrilled me. It was both at the same time because I had this interview every time I won.
My helmet sat beside me on the table while a half-empty bottle of water rolled slowly near my elbow.
"Relax," I said casually, glancing across the sea of microphones. "You're all going to get your answers."
A few reporters chuckled, but most of them leaned forward even more eagerly.
They always did because winning made people curious, and dominating made them obsessed.
The moderator standing at the side of the stage cleared his throat and adjusted the microphone.
"Congratulations on your win today, Nico," he began formally. "You managed to overtake the leading car with only three laps remaining. Can you tell us what was going through your mind during that moment?"
I tilted my head slightly, thinking back to the final laps of the race.
The roar of the engine.
The blur of the track beneath my wheels and the adrenaline flooding my veins as I pushed the car harder than anyone else dared.
"There wasn't much thinking involved," I replied with a faint shrug. "I saw an opening and I took it. Racing isn't complicated. You just have to be faster than the person in front of you. That's what it's all about."
The room erupted with a mix of laughter and murmurs as several reporters quickly scribbled down the quote.
Another hand shot up immediately.
"Nico, this marks your fourth win this season already. Many analysts are saying that you're practically unstoppable right now. Do you agree with that?"
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table while the corners of my lips curved into a small smile.
"Unstoppable?" I repeated thoughtfully. "I wouldn't say that."
The reporters started murmuring among themselves, and then one of them asked the question.
"And why is that?"
"I will say that no one on the grid right now has managed to stop me."
More cameras flashed as the room buzzed with excitement.
Confidence always sold good headlines, and it was how I had managed to trend every day on the news for years.
Another reporter leaned toward his microphone.
"Nico, your move on lap fifty-eight was extremely aggressive. Some drivers would have waited for a safer opportunity. Were you worried about the risk of a collision?"
I shrugged again.
"If you're scared of crashing, you shouldn't be racing."
A few people in the room laughed again while others exchanged knowing looks.
That answer would probably be everywhere online within the next hour, and there would be different opinions about it. Some would be positive while others would mostly be negative.
A different reporter raised his microphone from the second row.
"Nico, there's been a lot of discussion in the racing world recently about the upcoming season changes," he said carefully. "Specifically regarding the return of a certain former champion."
My smile faded slightly because I already knew where this was going.
The reporter continued.
"After two years away from the sport following his accident, Alaric de Villier has officially confirmed that he will be returning to Formula 1 next season. As the current top driver on the grid, what are your thoughts about competing against him?"
For a brief moment the room went completely silent.
Every camera turned toward me.
Every reporter waited for my answer.
Even the moderator looked curious.
I leaned back in my chair slowly, folding my arms as I considered the question.
Alaric de Villier. The golden boy of racing. Two years ago, he became the fallen king after the accident that forced him to leave racing, and I took over his place without hesitation and became the king of the grid.
Now that he was returning, nothing was going to change.
"What do I think?" I repeated.
The reporters nodded eagerly.
I shrugged. "I think people love living in the past."
A few murmurs rippled through the room, but that didn't stop me from talking.
"He was a great driver once," I continued casually. "Three championships. He had plenty of trophies and a nice reputation."
I paused briefly before adding with a small smirk, "But that was two years ago."
The tension in the room thickened immediately at my comment.
Someone in the back raised their voice.
"Are you saying he won't be able to compete with you?"
I leaned forward again, resting my chin lightly against my hand while my eyes flicked toward the camera lenses pointed directly at me.
"If he can still drive after disappearing for two years," I said slowly, "then sure. He's welcome to try."
The flashes exploded even brighter.
Another reporter quickly spoke up before the noise in the room could settle.
"Many fans still consider Alaric de Villier the greatest driver of his generation. Some believe his return could challenge your position at the top of the championship standings. Does that concern you?"
Concern. That word almost made me laugh.
I picked up the bottle of water beside me and took a slow sip before answering.
When I set it down again, my smile had returned.
"Look," I said calmly. "People can believe whatever they want. Legends, kings, heroes—it's all great for headlines. After all, people pick what to believe."
I glanced briefly at the large screen behind me where another replay of my winning overtake was playing.
"But racing isn't decided by reputation."
My gaze returned to the reporters.
"It's decided on the track."
The room grew quiet again as they all listened with rapt attention to what I had to say.
"And right now," I added, letting the words hang in the air, "this track belongs to me."
More cameras flashed.
More reporters scribbled furiously in their notebooks.
Someone near the front raised one final question.
"So if Alaric de Villier really does return next season… what would you say to him?"
I leaned back comfortably in my chair again, completely relaxed under the storm of flashing lights.
Then I smiled.
"If he's coming back," I said, my voice calm and almost amused, "he better be ready."
The reporters leaned forward.
"Because I don't give back what I've already taken."
The cameras exploded with flashes once again.
And somewhere out there, whether he liked it or not, Alaric de Villier was about to hear exactly what I thought of his return.
After all, an alpha has never outrun an enigma.