Everything went exactly as planned.
In a flash, Russell showed his skill, switching immediately to the inside line, reclaiming the racing line, and hunting for grip to regain his advantage.
In this rapidly changing race, Russell had done the best he could, biting hard and refusing to be shaken off.
However, he was facing Kai.
Calculated to perfection. A comprehensive plan, link by link, all leading to a single fatal blow.
From Turn 3 to Turn 4 is a long straight. In identical team cars, with the slipstream effect, Kai knew he couldn't just drive away from Russell. With Russell's precision, he would stick to Kai like glue, follow him through the complex, and attack again in the third DRS zone.
So, be passive and take the hit, or be active and strike first? For Kai, it wasn't even a question. The key was tailoring the strategy to the opponent.
If he were facing Alesi, he could bait him into a mistake. Alesi would destroy his own race without Kai lifting a finger. But Russell was different.
And so!
A beat early, Kai cut across the track, blocking Russell's line!
Kai was certain absolutely certain that Russell would go for the inside. That was Russell's nature, a deeply ingrained habit of seeking the precise, optimal line. It was unchangeable.
If Kai wasn't careful, this move could be suicide. He was giving up the inside line, where he held the advantage, to put himself on the dirty outside line. Even if he caught his opponent off guard, he might destroy his own race.
But Kai's mind was clear. He knew that against a calm, precise opponent like Russell, he wouldn't take the bait unless the cake was tempting enough.
So, without hesitation or doubt, Kai cut cleanly to the outside. He glanced quickly in his mirror, then snapped his focus back to himself.
Trail braking!
He didn't brake early or late. He used trail braking, delaying the release of the brake pedal deep into the corner while turning, keeping the speed high and loading the front tires to their absolute limit.
Whoosh, whoosh. The wind roared.
The car's weight shifted forward. The left-front tire screamed in protest but didn't lock up. With exquisite steering input, he traced a perfect arc around the outside of Turn 4. It was like painting an eyebrow delicate, elegant, a fleeting moment of beauty that silenced everything.
Once again, Kai and Russell were side-by-side in a corner. But visibly, Kai held a nose advantage. Even on the outside, Kai was in control, pinning Russell down, forcing him to chase.
Russell cut to the inside. Grip, line he had it all back.
But!
He braked just a fraction too early. As a result, his traction on exit was slightly lacking. He tried to get on the power, but he was just a beat too slow.
Whoosh!
A red-and-black blur, trailing a long tail like a comet, shot out of Russell's peripheral vision, instantly opening the gap.
Half a car length! One car length! One and a half!
Russell held his breath. He finally realized he was a puppet on a string. Every move, every reaction, had been predicted by his opponent. The feeling of restriction was suffocating.
But there was no time for regret. Russell stayed calm, trying to catch Kai's slipstream to stay close, to prevent Kai from pulling away entirely.
It wasn't over. It still wasn't over. Russell could counter-attack right here!
But Kai had already cut back to the inside, hitting the racing line. He flowed through the Turn 5 right-hander and the Turn 6 left-hander like water. His rhythm through the complex was a joy to watch. The car surged out of the corners on a wave of traction, revs and speed matching perfectly, natural and fluid.
Russell's line was precise, his control flawless, but that slight lack of traction meant he couldn't match the rhythm through the complex.
0.4 seconds. 0.6 seconds.
In just two hundred meters, the gap between Kai and Russell began to grow.
By the time they passed Turn 9 and entered the third DRS zone, the gap was still within DRS range 0.8 seconds but it left Russell with no way to attack.
Russell hadn't forgotten that DRS was still disabled. He had to be patient. But looking at the situation, he might never get the chance. The chaos and congestion of the Safety Car restart hadn't even lasted a full lap before order was restored.
In one breath, the race had returned to calm.
Russell didn't understand. Where had he gone wrong? When had things started to go south? How did this happen?
Brundle's mind was buzzing. "Amazed" wasn't a strong enough word.
"It was a three-step plan."
"The restart after the Safety Car, the switchback in Turn 3, the criss-cross to the outside line in Turn 4... everything was part of Kai's layout."
"He knew the GP3 cars are equal. The fight after the Safety Car is intense. The ART cars are identical. Add in Russell's stability and calm he doesn't make mistakes and he holds on tight. On a short, fast track like the Red Bull Ring, Kai knew he couldn't shake his teammate in one go. So, he started planning. Step by step, he suppressed his opponent, building his advantage."
"When those tiny advantages accumulated to a tipping point, he released them all at once, instantly pulling a gap. And finally, leaving them in the dust."
"Not just a brilliant strategy, but precise execution. He turned the concept in his mind into reality, flawlessly."
"Although I hesitate to say it... Kai has once again delivered a dominant performance. The rest of the race will verify if I'm right."
Praise, awe, wonder... the commentary box was buzzing.
Croft rarely saw his partner this unhinged. "Martin, did you just use the word 'dominant'?"
Brundle looked a bit embarrassed but nodded. "Let's wait and see."
Croft exclaimed, "Wow! Confirmed! Certified by Brundle! This is a brilliant race. So, which GP3 race do you prefer? Spain or Austria?"
This time, Brundle didn't dodge. He offered a rare joke. "Can't I choose both?"
Croft sensed Brundle's good mood and laughed loudly. "Of course! Haha, of course!"
However, Borreipaire didn't have time to enjoy the praise. "Kai, watch the tire condition. Temps are spiking rapidly."
Kai: "Received. No blistering yet, but I'll watch it. What's the gap to George?"
Borreipaire: "1.113."
Kai: "Received."
The Red Bull Ring was indeed made for close combat. Maybe the track itself wasn't hard on tires, but constant dueling was a different story.
Now, Kai faced the danger of his tire temperatures exceeding the critical limit. Not just the tires; the brakes were scorching hot, almost burning through the soles of his feet. After continuous extreme maneuvers and constant attack and defense, running on the high wire, the performance of the GP3 car had been pushed to its absolute limit.
The test, in fact, had only just begun.
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