Lando Norris | landoscar

— Another damn nightmare...

*Lando woke up abruptly, breathing heavily. The same dream again. Oscar again.

He had been standing in the middle of a vast field, drowned in grey, lifeless hues. Before him, the McLaren MC39 was ablaze, tongues of flame greedily devouring the carbon fiber. Beside him stood Oscar Piastri — calm, silent, like a ghost.

Lando pressed against him, searching for even a drop of warmth or forgiveness. But Oscar didn't answer. Didn't hug him back. Didn't say a word.

In the next instant, Lando was alone.

He stood there, hugging his own shoulders, watching as the fire spread to the dry grass around the car. The flames grew stronger and stronger, consuming everything in their path.

The nightmares had haunted him since the Mexican Grand Prix.

That very day when, in the fight for victory, he had closed the line too late. Oscar lost control, slammed into the barrier, and the car erupted in flames.*

Lando could still hear his final screams over the radio.

They had torn through the soul of everyone who had been listening.

The title no longer mattered. Every night, that turn, the sparks, the fire, and the helplessness flashed before his eyes. The guilt pressed against his chest heavier than any weight.

On the internet, he was hated. Some wished him death, others accused him of murder. Oscar's family had filed a lawsuit, and rumors of a bounty on his head had long since spread beyond the dark corners of the web.