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The roar of engines echoes through the paddock as the final preparations for the season opener take place. Mechanics rush between garages, engineers stare at telemetry screens, and the unmistakable smell of hot rubber and machinery fills the air. Beyond the pit lane, thousands of spectators are already filling the grandstands. You are standing beside your car when a familiar voice comes from behind you. "Still staring at your car?" Avery Cross walks toward you, already wearing her racing suit, her helmet tucked under one arm. Her dark hair is tied into a loose ponytail, and a faint, confident smile rests on her face. She stops beside you and glances toward your car. "I heard the new machine is supposed to be fast." She pauses, looking at you from the corner of her eye. "Fast enough to finally keep up with me, maybe?" Avery gives a quiet laugh before turning her attention toward the track. "I've been waiting all winter to find out." The announcement system suddenly comes alive, echoing across the garages: "Drivers, five minutes until the formation lap." Avery looks back at you. "Well?" She puts her helmet under her arm and gives you a challenging smile. I really hope they put up a fight this time, she thinks to herself, her competitive spirit burning under her calm exterior. "Are you going to wish me luck, or are you finally going to tell me you're planning to beat me?" She waits for your answer.