Get In

Kai leaned against the warm hood of his C5, the city stretching before him in a sea of glowing lights and dark alleyways. The chase was over. The adrenaline had worn off.

And now, he had to make a decision.

Ryo stood a few feet away, watching him with that same smug confidence. Ghost remained silent, arms crossed, his silver 350Z parked nearby like a quiet sentinel.

"You got talent, rookie," Ryo said again, voice steady. "But talent's not enough in this city. You need backing. You need power." He tilted his head. "You need a crew."

Kai exhaled.

Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. A few days ago, he had been just another kid playing his favorite racing game. Now, he was standing here, being recruited by one of the most feared street racing crews in Marrydale.

Ryo's offer wasn't bad. The Black Widows ruled the streets. They had money, cars, connections. No racer stood alone for long.

But Kai wasn't like them.

And he didn't want to be.

He straightened up, meeting Ryo's gaze. "I'm not joining the Black Widows."

Ryo's smirk faltered just a little. "That so?"

Kai nodded. "I'm gonna start my own crew."

Silence.

Ghost shifted slightly, turning his head to glance at Kai, but he said nothing.

Then, Ryo chuckled. Not out of amusement—more like disbelief. "Your own crew? Suit yourself. That piece of metal your driving is quite old in today's age."

Kai's fingers tensed against the hood of his car.

"You'll get crushed," Ryo continued. "Everyone will come for you. The Apex Serpents. The Valkyries. The Black Widows. This city doesn't hand out power, Kai. You take it."

Kai didn't respond right away.

Because he knew Ryo was right.

Marrydale wasn't just a place for racers. It was a battleground. A living, breathing ecosystem of speed, territory, and politics.

The races weren't just about skill—they were about power, dominance, control.

But Kai had never cared about that.

He just wanted to drive.

And he wasn't about to let Ryo—or anyone else—decide how he did it.

"I don't care about power," Kai finally said. "I just want to race. On my own terms."

Ryo studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "You're either brave or stupid."

Kai smirked. "Maybe both."

Ryo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. Do whatever you want. But when this city chews you up and spits you out—don't say I didn't warn you."

He turned, walking toward his Supra.

Ghost gave Kai one last unreadable glance before following.

Then, with the roar of high-performance engines, they were gone.

Leaving Kai alone in the night.

Kai stood alone in the empty lot, leaning against the side of his C5, the metal still warm from the run. The city stretched out beyond him, neon lights flickering in the distance, but here—on this rooftop, away from the noise—everything felt still.

The echoes of the chase still rang in his ears. The roar of engines, the wailing of sirens, the moment he nearly got clipped by that cop car. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

The Black Widows had given him an out. A way to avoid nights like this.

And he turned it down.

It would've been easy to say yes. To take the protection, the status, the resources. But that wasn't him.

He didn't want to race for someone else. He didn't want to be a name under another crew's banner.

But starting his own?

What did that even mean?

He let out a breath, tilting his head back to stare at the sky.

Marrydale wasn't a city for the weak.

It was built on speed, power, and control. It didn't matter if you were a racer, a businessman, or a cop—you either carved out a place for yourself, or you got buried.

Kai had spent his whole life on the outside looking in, playing the game, admiring the world of racing from behind a screen.

Now, he was here. In it.

And he was rewriting the script.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID.

Ami.

He hesitated for half a second before answering.

"Yo."

A pause. Then, "You okay?"

Kai let out a small chuckle. "I just outran the cops and turned down an offer from one of the biggest racing crews in the city. So, yeah. I guess I'm great."

Ami sighed on the other end. "You're an idiot."

Kai smirked. "You've mentioned that before."

Another pause. Then, quieter, "Where are you?"

Kai glanced around. "Some place near the docks. Just… thinking."

Ami didn't respond right away. He could hear the faint hum of an engine on her end, the sound of shifting gears.

"Stay there," she said. "I'm coming to get you."

She hung up before he could argue.

He wasn't sure why she cared so much.

But he wasn't about to leave before he found out.

Across the city, inside the Marrydale Police Department, a meeting was unfolding.

The walls of the Street Crimes Division were covered with maps of the city, surveillance images, and race reports. Officers moved in and out, radios buzzing, coffee cups half-empty on desks covered in case files.

At the center of the room, Captain Elias Wren stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on a digital display showing a heatmap of street racing activity.

"That's two incidents in a row where this car has surfaced," one of the officers reported, clicking through footage. A dark blue Corvette?

"Doesn't match any of our known racers," another officer added. "No crew affiliations, no previous citations. It just appeared out of nowhere."

Wren narrowed his eyes. "You telling me someone just dropped a high-performance Corvette into the underground scene, and no one knows who they are?"

"Not yet, sir," the officer said. "But we're working on it."

A deep, amused chuckle echoed from the hallway.

"Maybe you're just not looking hard enough," a voice drawled.

The officers stiffened as Sergeant Cross strode into the room.

He wasn't like the others.

While most of Marrydale PD drove standard-issue sedans or SUVs, Cross rolled up in something else—a C6 Z06 Corvette, blacked out, built for pursuit.

It wasn't just a police car.

It was a statement.

A reminder that he wasn't here to play games.

Cross glanced at the footage, his sharp gaze flicking over the Corvette on screen.

"A C5, huh?" he mused. "That's old school. No way it's stock if it's keeping up with what I've seen."

Wren sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're not assigned to this, Cross."

The sergeant smirked. "Yeah, but it's been a while since I've had a proper chase. And from what I see, this kid's got a habit of slipping through your fingers."

Wren shot him a look. "We're handling it."

Cross chuckled, turning toward the door. "Sure you are."

He walked off without another word.

Wren exhaled slowly, watching him go.

"Someone find out who's driving that car," he ordered. "Before he ends up on Cross's radar for real."

Kai heard the high-pitched wail of a VTEC engine before he saw the car.

A sleek, yellow Honda S2000 rounded the corner of the rooftop lot, headlights cutting through the night. The car rolled to a stop next to him, its low idle a sharp contrast to the deeper growl of his V8.

Ami sat behind the wheel, one hand resting casually on the gearshift. She tilted her head, giving him a look.

"Get in."