Brian O'Conner, still smarting from Raja's cafe beatdown, slunk back to The Racer's Edge, a gritty performance parts store where he worked and crashed in a dingy backroom.
Fuming, he stormed up to Harry, his boss, who was nursing a coffee and a shady past. "Harry, I need a nitrous system for my Eclipse—installed by tonight!" Brian barked, pride as bruised as his gut.
Harry, a former owner turned FBI snitch after a stolen-goods bust, raised an eyebrow. "Chill, O'Conner. You're on Toretto's tail right, why are you fuming with rage."
Brian muttered, "Ask that to the kid who yeeted me."
Harry, bound by his FBI deal to employ Brian for the Toretto probe, sighed and greenlit the nitrous.
As sunset painted LA gold, a back alley buzzed with street racers—neon cars, blaring music, pure chaos.
Brian rolled up in his souped-up Mitsubishi Eclipse, its green glow screaming "look at me." Hector, a race legend with a boxer's build, clocked the car and strutted over, trailed by Edwin, a wiry racer with a loud mouth. "Nice ride, Blondie," Hector said, smirking.
Edwin cackled, "Hope it's faster than your game."
Dominic Toretto's crew roared in—Dom, Letty, Vince, Jesse, Leon—ready to own the night. Hector, now organizing, announced a single race: $2,000 buy-in, winner takes all.
Brian, cash-strapped, shrugged, "No dough, but I'll bet my Eclipse's pink slip."
Jesse, the crew's tech whiz, inspected the car, nodding, "She's legit."
The other racers—Edwin and a fourth driver—grumbled but agreed. The alley cleared as the crowd headed to the race road.
Dom, grinning, Called Raja: "Get your ass here, Chaos Rider."
Cue Raja, rolling up in a FullBlack-and-Gold lined Indian Ambassador—a boxy, retro relic with a Hanuman flag flapping proudly.
The crowd froze, jaws dropping, thinking, What in the actual hell is this clown car? Racers felt insulted, like Raja was mocking their sleek rides.
Edwin, laughing, yelled, "Yo, Chaos Rider, what kinda backwater goofy car is this? Did you lost a bet?"
Raja's evil smirk sent shivers down Edwin's spine. He gunned the engine—VROOM!—a roar so fierce it silenced the haters.
Hopping out, Raja struck a pose, "Ladies and gents, presenting you most interesting and entertaining Car Vayu Putra—Son of the Wind! One-of-a-kind, built by yours truly, Raja Toretto. Stylish, savage, and ready to smoke you!"
The crowd twitched, torn between awe and annoyance. Raja's theatrics were peak Chaos Rider—Dom's protégé was a showman, but his racing cred was untouchable.
Dom, chuckling, clapped, "Enough drama, Raja. Racers, cars! Hector, check police comms. Ladies, get ready to crown the champ!"
Everyone piled into rides, zooming to a four-lane road for a quarter-mile showdown. Raja, Brian, Edwin, and the fourth racer lined up, engines growling.
Leon, monitoring the police scanner, gave the all-clear. A bombshell in a barely-there dress—wardrobe malfunction imminent—sashayed to the center, purring, "Ready, set, go!"
Engines screamed as Brian, Edwin, and the fourth racer shot off, tires smoking. Raja? He just sat there, chilling like he was sipping coconut water on a beach.
The crowd blinked, confused. "Is his car busted?"
Edwin smirked mid-race, thinking Raja was toast.
Dom's crew, though, grinned—they knew the Chaos Rider's game.
Raja was toying with them, giving false hope before crushing there Hope and will. Five seconds later, Vayu Putra roared to life, a beast unleashed, tearing down the road like a missile. Microseconds ticked as Raja closed the gap, the Ambassador's custom engine defying physics.
Racers, smug in their lead, heard a deafening BRRRR—Vayu Putra blasted past like a hurricane, leaving them choking on dust. Jaws hit dashboards;
Edwin yelped, "What is that thing made of?!"
Raja, brain at 25%, drove like a cyborg, weaving through traffic signals with robotic precision, passing everyone but Brian, who'd hit his nitrous early.
Brian, after a shaky start, surged ahead, grinning in his rearview—no Raja. "I'm gonna clown that kid," he thought, plotting post-race burns.
Then, a roar shook his soul. Vayu Putra loomed, like a Balck Raging Bull with golden horns.
Brian's heart sank as Raja's Ambassador pulled alongside, gaining speed.
Pissed, Brian doubled down, slamming his nitrous again. His floorboard clunked loose, but he edged ahead, inches from the finish.
Raja's evil grin flashed in the mirror. "My turn," he muttered, flipping a hidden nitrous switch. Vayu Putra erupted with a sonic BOOM, blasting past Brian to cross the line first.
The crowd lost it—cheers, curses, pure pandemonium.
Raja hopped out, bowing, "Chaos Rider strikes again! Sorry, Goldilocks, your amateur vibes need work."
Brian, red-faced, kicked a tire as the crowd roasted him.
Leon's scanner crackled—LAPD was en route. "Cops!" he yelled.
Hector barked, "Scatter!" Racers peeled out, tires screeching.
Dom stashed his RX-7 in a parking garage, legging it on foot.
Raja, smirking, had MAYA zap Vayu Putra into her inventory—poof, gone.
Brian, cursing his busted Eclipse, floored it, engine whining.
An LAPD unit spotted Dom in an alley, shouting, "Freeze!" Dom sprinted, but the cop closed in.
Brian, in a wild move, swerved up, yelling, "Dom, get in!" Dom dove into the Eclipse, and Brian outran the cop, but his car coughed, intake manifold fried from nitrous abuse.
Raja, watching from afar, went full Batman—parkouring across rooftops, leaping fences, shadowing Dom and Brian like a caffeinated ninja. His hoodie flapped, eyes glinting with glee.
"Goldilocks saving Dom, All according to Plot!" he whispered, scaling a building to keep tabs.
MAYA: "Master, you're enjoying this way too much."
Raja grinned, perched like a gargoyle, ready to stir more chaos in Toretto's world.
To Be Continued…