We spent the next hour pouring over the blueprints and schematics I had downloaded instantaneously from the System's "Hacking" catalogue. We were sitting on the hood of his car, the distant lights of LA glowing softly.
"The biggest problem is the retrieval," Brian explained, pointing to a diagram of the convoy. "Even if we disable the escort, that prototype is likely bolted down inside a Faraday cage, and the truck itself has multiple lock protocols. We need a minimum of fifteen minutes to breach and extract, and we won't get that kind of time before the cavalry arrives."
"We won't need fifteen minutes," I countered, pulling up a 3D overlay of the cargo container's locking mechanisms. "The locking mechanism relies on pneumatic seals activated by a low-frequency sonic pulse. I can overload the pulse generator with a custom electromagnetic spike. Takes two seconds for the charge to build, one second for the field collapse. Total extraction time: under five minutes."
Brian leaned closer, examining the holographic projection the System had initiated on my wristwatch—a feature I'd found incredibly useful. "You have the tech for that?"
"It's in the car. Custom-built EMP thrower, disguised as a nitrous tank." I tapped the screen. "But it has to be deployed at point-blank range, meaning someone has to breach the protective perimeter and get right next to the cargo truck."
"That requires disabling the bikes and the security tail car simultaneously, then weaving past the two lead cars," Brian mused. "That's suicide for one driver."
"Not necessarily," I said, a mischievous idea forming. "We take out the flanks, then I ride shotgun in your car for the breach. But we need a distraction for the lead vehicles. Something loud. Something unavoidable."
I pulled up the satellite image of the route—a segment running through a sparsely populated industrial zone perfect for high-speed mayhem.
"We need a bottleneck," I continued. "And the only way to ensure the convoy stops long enough for the EMP charge to be effective is to introduce a major, localized obstruction."
Brian looked at me, a dangerous curiosity in his eyes. "Like what?"
I grinned. "Think bigger than road spikes. Remember what I have in my trunk?"
I accessed my inventory and highlighted the item I was considering.
[STICKY BOMB (x3)]
"We don't just stop the convoy," I explained. "We make them think they ran into a trap from a rival government agency. We create an artificial incident that forces them to go into lockdown, not chase mode."
My plan took shape instantly, solidified by the Instant Mastery of "Advanced Demolitions and High-Speed Trap Setting."
"You and your fastest driver—who I'm guessing is Dom—need to run a parallel distraction on the 110, drawing their air support south. This creates a perfect five-minute window when the convoy is vulnerable on the ground."
"Dom's always game for a smoke show," Brian agreed. "But the actual breach?"
"We hit the convoy just as they pass under the Figueroa underpass. I come in high, off the top of the ramp, dropping the first sticky bomb on the roof of the final security car. That car stalls. The bikes panic and attempt to break formation."
"Then what?"
"Then I land, deploy the EMP, and we take off. We need a secure exit point. The 101 split is too hot."
I zoomed in on the map, locating a series of drainage tunnels near the riverbed.
"This is our escape route," I declared, pointing to the tunnels. "If we hit the tunnels, we lose the helicopters and the ground vehicles can't follow."
"The tunnels are rough," Brian warned. "They'll shred the undercarriage."
"Not with proper shock absorption adjustments," I said, already calculating suspension settings for both the Skyline and the silver R34. "I can upload the specs to your car's ECU right now."
I used a small diagnostic port under his hood, connecting a flash drive sized perfectly for stealth. The System confirmed the data transfer.
[SKILL APPLIED: VEHICLE OPTIMIZATION (R34 GT-R, OFF-ROAD/HIGH-SPEED TRAVERSE)]
Brian stared at the diagnostics screen on his dash as the numbers shifted dramatically. "You just recalibrated my entire suspension system in five seconds. Who are you?"
I shrugged, leaning back against the cool metal of his car. "I'm just a guy who got bored of mediocrity, Brian. And I've got three sticky bombs left. We're going to need them for the exit."
"You're completely insane," Brian muttered, a wide, genuine smile now on his face.
"Probably," I agreed. "But are you in?"
Brian laughed, slapping me on the shoulder with authority. "Hell yeah, I'm in. Let's go see Dom. You're going to want to meet the rest of the crew."
As we started walking toward the edge of the lot, checking for surveillance, the GTA System provided my mission update.
[MISSION PHASE 1 COMPLETE: TRUST ESTABLISHED. NEXT PHASE: CONVOY INTERCEPTION. REWARDS PENDING.]
My health and armor bars were full. My inventory was stocked. The engine of the Skyline was cool and ready. And the hum of a life lived on the razor's edge—the life I had traded everything for—was intoxicating.
I was Michael J. Harrison, former accountant, current street-racing demigod, and tonight, I was going to steal a quantum drive and probably raise my wanted level to four stars.
I couldn't wait.