CHAPTER 4 – ENGINES OF WAR
(Part 1 – The Moscow Operation)
[Opening Scene – Moscow, Night]
Snow falls like drifting ash over the city. The streetlights glow in a dull amber haze.
Somewhere deep in the industrial quarter, a convoy of armored cars snakes through the frost-covered roads — ex-military, repurposed, black as oil.
I trail them from the shadows, Ares purring low.
My HUD flickers softly — red-gold symbols dancing like ancient runes on glass.
> [System Mission Active – "Neutralize Black Market Vehicle Ring."]
Status: Tracking active targets – 3 armored convoys, 1 base of operations. Objective: Intercept, Extract data core, Eliminate leadership.]
The wives move in coordinated formation across comms — voices crisp and calm despite the cold.
Ava (over radio): "Eyes on first convoy. Two guards on turret, one driver. They're ex-Spetsnaz, no insignias."
Sarah: "Hacking their comms now… and—got it. They're running encrypted logistics from an underground lab beneath Krasniy Industrial Park."
Alexis: "Two sentries on the west gate. Quiet work or loud?"
Katie: "Loud. Always loud."
I smile slightly, flicking the safety off my rifle.
"On my mark," I say.
---
[Cut to: The Ambush]
The snow crunches under boots as Ava lines up her sniper rifle on a frozen rooftop.
A laser dot glides across the windshield of the lead convoy — then pop.
One shot. Driver down. The truck skids sideways, metal shrieking on asphalt.
Ares surges forward from the alley, tires spinning fire through the frost. The red underglow turns the snow blood-orange as I ram the second truck broadside.
> [System Sync: Combat Skills – Deadshot / Deathstroke Active.]
Reaction time +300%.
Bullets slice the night, but my world slows. I step from the car, pivoting between tracer fire — every move pre-mapped in instinct, every trigger squeeze clean.
Sarah detonates an EMP charge that drops the convoy's electronics cold.
Alexis and Katie flank in unison — one dropping guards hand-to-hand, the other disarming explosives with smooth precision.
When the final truck goes silent, I open the cargo bay and find it:
A crate of experimental car weapon systems — heat-reactive armor, compact pulse cannons, adaptive tires. Reyes' syndicate tech… repurposed for something darker.
> [System Notification: Mission Objective Partially Complete.]
Data Core Located: Upload in progress.
As the files stream into the system, I glance at the frost-steaming hood of Ares — red glow pulsing beneath gold trims. The snow melts around it in a perfect circle.
The system hums. Alive. Watching.
Then the phone buzzes.
"Luke Hobbs."
---
[Cut to: Communication Scene – Hobbs' Call]
I answer.
"Hobbs. Didn't think you missed me already."
His voice grinds through static, deep and sharp as always.
"Wish I could say this was social, Toretto. I've got a situation."
"Talk to me."
"There's a crew pulling high-speed precision jobs across London. Military-grade cars, lethal coordination. And the kicker? One of the drivers looks real familiar."
I frown. "How familiar?"
He pauses. "Name's Letty Ortiz."
Silence. The world freezes.
Even my wives glance over, their eyes tightening at the shift in my face.
Dom's voice echoes in my memory — that haunted tone whenever her name came up.
Letty. The ghost that wouldn't stay dead.
Hobbs continues: "I'm putting together a response team. I want you and your people on the ground. This isn't street racing anymore, it's warfare."
I exhale, looking back at the burning convoy. "You got your warfighter."
"Good," he says. "Then get to London. Shaw's crew won't know what hit 'em."
> [System Notification: Mission Update – "Fast Six: The Shaw Operation."]
Objective: Support Dom Toretto's crew. Secure Letty Ortiz. Neutralize Owen Shaw's unit.]
Reward upon mission completion: +200 IQ (System Integration Upgrade).]
---
[Transition – Private Hangar, Moscow Airfield]
Engines thunder as the crew loads Ares into a jet. The wives move with silent precision — gear packed, weapons cleaned, mission mindset switched on.
Ava slips her rifle into its case. "London, huh? I've always wanted to go shopping."
Sarah smirks. "We're not shopping, Ava."
Katie stretches, smiling. "Speak for yourself. I plan to buy chaos."
Alexis glances at me. "You in that mood again?"
"The one where I save the world?" I grin. "Always."
As the jet door closes, the last view of Moscow fades in snow and fire — the black market ring annihilated, ashes glowing red in the storm.
And beneath it all, the system whispers like a pulse through metal:
> Speed is truth.
Family is fuel.
Asphalt is destiny.
Next stop: London.
(Part 2 – Arrival in London & First Contact with Owen Shaw)
[Opening Scene – RAF Northolt, London]
The rain hits sideways, slicing through the gray air.
Our plane touches down like a beast too heavy for heaven, tires screeching against slick asphalt. The city skyline looms ahead — metallic, cold, alive.
Ares sits chained in the cargo hold, its red-gold glow cutting through the gray like a heartbeat under skin.
When the ramp lowers, that growl hits the air — low, menacing, divine.
Katie whistles. "London. Smells like money and bad decisions."
Ava smirks. "Feels like home."
Sarah checks her tablet. "Local surveillance grid active. Hobbs is waiting two klicks east."
Alexis stretches her shoulders. "Let's get this over with."
I tighten my gloves, breathing in the cold. "Time to wake the lions."
---
[Cut to: Interpol Tactical HQ – East London]
The crew's all here. Dom, Brian, Roman, Tej, Han, and Gisele stand around the tactical table as Luke Hobbs briefs us with that bulldozer voice of his.
Riley Hicks — new agent, calm eyes — stands at his side.
On the digital display, blueprints of London streets flicker alongside blurry CCTV captures: black cars, high-speed formations, precision attacks. And in the middle — Letty.
Dom's jaw is stone. You can feel the weight in the room, that mix of disbelief and pain.
Hobbs points to the screens.
"This crew is ex-military, led by a man named Owen Shaw. Tactical genius, gearhead psychopath. They use precision driver combat, modified vehicles, and hit targets like ghosts. Sound familiar?"
Roman raises a hand. "Uh, yeah. Sounds like us on a bad day."
Everyone smirks. Even Hobbs cracks a half-grin.
Then he points at the blurry image of Letty.
"She's alive. And she's working for Shaw."
Silence again.
Dom stares, eyes hard.
"I don't believe that."
Hobbs looks to me. "You've seen it before, Toretto. People don't come back from the dead without strings attached."
I nod slowly. "He's right, Dom. If Shaw's got her, it's not by choice. We'll get her back — but we do it smart."
Dom looks at me — the kind of look that only passes between brothers forged in chaos.
"Then let's hunt."
---
[Cut to: First Reconnaissance – London Underground Garage]
Rain pools around our boots as we stalk through an abandoned car depot at the edge of the city.
Hobbs' intel said Shaw's crew would use it as a drop site.
The air smells like oil, ozone, and trouble.
> [System: Threat proximity alert. Five hostiles approaching – combat vehicles detected.]
A hum fills the air — not from above, but beneath us.
Then, headlights flare alive in the dark.
Metal monsters roll out of the shadows — Shaw's cars, low and angular, armored, moving with inhuman precision.
"Positions!" Hobbs barks.
Ava takes the high ground instantly, rifle aimed.
Sarah scrambles behind cover, hacking into the enemy car network mid-combat.
Katie jumps into the Ares' passenger seat, reloading the side-mounted turrets.
Alexis slips two pistols from her thigh holsters, expression calm as a heartbeat.
I hit the ignition.
Ares roars — a lion tearing through the storm. The red-gold flames from its exhaust turn the rain into steam.
> [System Sync: Speed Focus – ON. Reaction Speed +400%. Reflex Path Activated.]
Shaw's car hits the corner hard — magnetic harpoons firing, trying to snare Ares. I swing the wheel left, tapping the nitrous. The Charger spins full-circle, tires screaming, harpoons missing by inches.
Then I counter, hit the boost.
Ares slams into one of the armored sedans with a thunderous CRASH that flips it like a coin.
Katie grins wild. "That's my husband."
"Remind me to take you somewhere nice after this," I mutter.
Sarah's voice crackles through comms. "I've hacked into their telemetry! Their AI steering system's based on predictive physics — Shaw's not driving with them, he's driving through them!"
Ava squeezes off a shot — one perfect bullet through a car's windshield.
The driver slumps. Vehicle spins, hits the wall, bursts into flame.
Dom's Charger smashes into the scene beside me, roaring like a co-star of war.
He glances across through the smoke.
"Missed you, brother."
I grin. "I never miss."
---
[Cut to: Shaw's Escape]
After the chaos, Shaw's car vaults over a barricade and vanishes into the city grid — precision beyond human instinct.
Dom slams the wheel in frustration.
"He's good."
I stare after the fleeing car, watching the red taillights blur through rain. "He's surgical. He plans three steps ahead. That's not racing — that's chess."
Hobbs radios in. "We've got nothing on thermal. He's gone."
I nod once, feeling the system hum beneath my skin.
> [System Update: Mission Progress – Phase One Complete.]
Next Objective: Infiltrate Shaw's network. Retrieve location of Letty Ortiz.]
---
[Cut to: Crew Safehouse – East London]
Later, we're gathered in a dim garage lit by hanging bulbs and the blue glow of Tej's laptop.
Rain taps the roof in steady rhythm.
Brian tosses a rag aside. "You ever seen cars move like that, Jay?"
"Once," I say. "In a warzone. Drone-assisted motion sync — every car part of one machine."
Dom crosses his arms. "Then we break the machine."
Ava leans on the Charger's hood, smirking. "Or reprogram it."
Sarah's already tapping on her screen. "Give me 48 hours and access to MI6's sat-link, and I can ghost his whole system."
Katie grins. "Translation: we're going to steal from a thief."
Alexis just smiles at me. "Sounds familiar."
Tej whistles. "You five are seriously terrifying."
Roman adds, "Yeah, I'm gonna start sleeping with the lights on."
Laughter cuts the tension — that moment of levity only this family can create between wars.
But then Hobbs enters, his tone dropping like an anchor.
"Shaw's not done. He's planning something big — military convoy, NATO hardware. If he gets it, every country loses control of the road."
Dom glances at me. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yeah," I reply, my smile returning. "Let's steal the world before he does."
---
> [System Notification: Canon Alignment Path Confirmed.]
Follow Original Timeline → Reward Pending: +200 IQ Integration Bonus.
New Sub-Mission Added: Secure Letty Ortiz, Neutralize Owen Shaw, Recover the Microchip Payload.]
The words fade, leaving only the hum of engines and rain.
And as I step out into the London night, I whisper to myself — half promise, half prophecy:
> Speed is truth.
Family is fuel.
Asphalt is destiny.
Part 3 — THE CONVOY AMBUSH (TANK SEQUENCE)
The highway unrolled like a sheet of black glass. Rain slicked the lanes and turned taillights into smeared rubies. Somewhere up ahead, the convoy moved slow and heavy — armor and steel and a promise of trouble. On the radio, Dom's voice cut through: calm, precise. "Positions. We hit the center vehicle. We get the chip and we're gone."
I felt my palms settle into leather. Ares idled beside Dom's Charger, both of us breathing like caged beasts. The wives were all tuned to me: Ava on a rooftop with a scoped rifle, Sarah fingers dancing over a hacked feed that fed us blind spots, Alexis in close-combat ready, Katie riding shotgun with a grin that said she loved the part where it hurt.
Traffic shimmered behind us — the city moving around our plan like a current. And above the plan, the System hummed in my head, a familiar pulse.
[System: Canon Alignment Confirmed — Mission Path: Follow Original Timeline. Hidden Reward Queue Active.]
Dom moved like the leader he is. "Two lanes, three cars. We box the middle truck. O'Conner and I will go fast flank. Jay, you take point with Ares and make the cut."
"Copy." The words fell easy.
We eased into position. The convoy rolled like a slow animal — an armored truck in the center, escort SUVs, the odd heavy flatbed that looked wrong for anything except war. The hum in my skull became a metronome. This is where the street and the battlefield become the same thing.
Green light. The world dropped into motion like a dropped curtain. We hit it.
Ares lunged, raw torque jerking me forward; the city strobe of rain turned to streaks. I slid through a lane and felt the tires bite. A SUV swung at our flank — magnetic clamps whined, grappling tech reaching out to snag the car. I yanked, drifted, and Ares shrugged it off like an insult.
Bullets cracked through the night. Sparks glanced off armored plating. Dom's Charger carved a path; Brian's Skyline split the rear. Teamwork like a clock.
Halfway through, the world tilted. Two massive treads appeared ahead — a tank, black like a moving mountain, rolling with a patience that ate lanes. No one expected a tank on an English motorway, not unless someone wanted ruin. Shaw had made sure his muscle didn't play by rules.
Dom's voice came clipped. "Tank. Now it's a war."
I felt the System tighten like a ready fist.
[System Alert: Heavy Armour Detected — Kinetic Shielding Recommended. Tactical Window Opening.]
I didn't need the words. I saw angles in my mind — the only place a tank could be stopped was where the road offered no line of retreat. The bridge at the next mile, narrow and vulnerable. That's where a heavy machine becomes trapped by physics and death, and that's where we'd force the chessboard.
"Dom, bridge in sixty seconds. Cut left, create a wedge." I said it like a command and a prayer.
We moved like that — a choreography of steel. Katie clipped two pursuers with a graceful sideswipe; Alexis vaulted from one car to another, landing a blow that left a driver stunned. Ava called shots from a rooftop a half-mile back, her voice calm like water. Sarah was already fighting their telemetry, dropping signal nodes that turned helmets into blank screens for a second or two of blessed blindness.
The tank's turret pivoted slowly, a yawning threat, and it tracked us like a predator. People on the overpass scattered. The tank's commander shouted in a language that meant little besides danger.
Dom rammed the wedge. My Charger gouged the air. I planted my boots, shifted, and let nitrous tear reality into ribbons. Ares answered like a demon pleased — the exhaust burped red-gold fire that painted the rain.
Steel crunched, tires screamed, and the wedge worked: the tank's route was disrupted. But the monster didn't fall easy. It threw its weight into motion, treads grinding concrete, launching shockwaves that rattled bones. One of Shaw's crew, a driver with eyes like cold glass, launched a volley of devices — EMP bursts and tether mines — meant to stop us cold.
The System sang in white noise, then burst into focus.
[System: Hidden Reward Triggered — Canon Path Maintained. Reward Unlocked: Adaptive Driving Module (Skill +), Combat Reflex Matrix (Skill +), Strategic Pattern Integration ("Shikamaru" Protocol).]
The words flashed like runes. I didn't need to see them to feel them; the world tightened, and my hands answered. Driving felt like a language I'd suddenly remembered the grammar of — lines, apexes, micro-corrections that shaved seconds and saved lives. My reflexes sharpened; a punch of calm settled over my muscles.
Dom's Charger took the brunt, ramming the tank's flank at an angle that would have ripped any normal vehicle into scrap. Ares, smaller and faster, found its line and threaded between the treads like a fish slipping stone. I saw openings I wouldn't have seen before — points where the tank's mass didn't cover the pavement.
Ava's rifle cracked; the spotter drone decloaked a vulnerable hatch. Sarah's hack found the tank's weak telemetry feed and threw a phantom signature in its loop, a ghost on the screen. Alexis and Katie were a blur of motion. It became less of a fight and more of an orchestration of violence where every note landed clean.
The tank hit a manhole cover and bucked; the lead flatbed attempted a block and tipped. Physics helped. The tank ground its treads against an exposed support beam and—under the combined force of Dom's ram, my side cut and the shaken support—the structure groaned and gave.
It didn't explode in some movie fireball. It didn't need to. The bridge folded; concrete cracked; the tank lost traction. It slid, heavy and impotent, the turret grinding uselessly at the sky as the convoy slid into disarray.
We poured through the wreck, solid as a tide. Shaw's men scrambled for salvage, but the team was already on their throats — hand-to-hand, precise and brutal, but never beyond the bite needed. The wives moved like a well-oiled weapon: Ava's shots kept angles open, Sarah's electronics closed corridors, Alexis took a man down with a single clean strike, Katie stole a vehicle that would later earn a nickname.
At the center of it, the armored truck — the vault hauler — sat like a wound. Tej and Roman had it wired: explosive charges, pry points, a plan that made a safe look like paper. We cracked the lock; we pulled the doors. Inside — cases, briefcases, hard drives — all the leverage Shaw had been trading on.
Dom laughed then, a short bark of a thing that tasted like victory. "We got it."
I ran my gloved hand over one stack of sealed containers. The number stared back like a bruise — a fortune in the brand new world-order. The mission had been precise and cruel and beautiful in its own way.
The System chimed again, gold letters burning a little brighter.
[System: Mission Complete — Convoy Neutralized. Canon Reward: +Adaptive Driving, +Combat Reflex Matrix, +Strategic Protocol (Shikamaru).]
I felt the modules slot into place — not as code but as muscle and thought. Patterns unfolded in my head like a board I could see three moves ahead. Combat choices seemed clear, not because fate dictated them but because I could see the shape of consequences.
Hobbs clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder, not a question now but a pact. "Good driving. You saved a lot of men today."
"We saved each other," I corrected, and the family laughed, because that's how we frame war — around jokes and firelight.
We walked away from the heave of twisted metal and smoke. Shaw was gone; his footprint was on the map, but his bite had been blunted. Dom's team had what they needed; the chip we stole would buy time and leverage.
The radio hummed with new orders — another city, another horizon. London's skyline glowed in the rain behind us, and somewhere beyond the storm, new threats stirred. My System pulsed like a satisfied engine.
[System: Bonus Integration Pending — +200 IQ Canon Adherence Buffer upon completion of Fast Six Core Timeline.]
I looked at my crew: dom, hobbs, the wives — the whole motley family. We were wet and tired and electric. In the hollow after the fight, when the adrenaline thinned and the world narrowed to breath and laughter, Katie leaned in and kissed my cheek, quick and fierce.
"You're insufferable," she said, smiling.
"Duly noted," I said. Then, to Dom: "Where to next?"
He gave that look — storm and grin in equal measure. "Wherever Letty's calling us."
And the road answered, wet and wide and humming.
GHOSTS AND ENGINES"
(Part 4)
London, 0200 Hours
[Owen Shaw POV]
The warehouse was silent except for the sound of machines breathing. A dozen engines half-assembled under pale halogen, their bodies naked—skeletons of speed. Owen Shaw stood with his hands behind his back, the smell of metal and oil his kind of incense. Precision. That was his religion.
On the projection wall, blueprints danced—routes, timings, police grid overlays, all updated in real-time by Vegh's code. "Interpol still running circles," she said. "No trace of the chip since Rio."
Shaw's eyes flicked to her, then to Klaus checking a rotary cannon's calibration. Riley leaned against a table, boots up, calm as a blade.
"Then they're getting help," Shaw said. His voice didn't rise, it cut. "Toretto's good. O'Conner's reckless. But their new player… that's a variable I don't like."
Riley tilted her head. "Jameson Toretto. The ghost brother. Military record scrubbed, no active file."
Shaw smirked. "Ghosts don't scare me. They fascinate me. A man who vanishes for seven years and reappears in Rio with four operators and a car that eats police interceptors for breakfast? That's logistics, not luck."
Vegh's monitors flickered, pulling up footage: grainy drone capture of the Rio chase. The black Charger with the red streak slicing through traffic like lightning caught mid-motion.
Shaw studied it for a beat too long. "He doesn't drive like Toretto. He drives like a strategist. See the angles? He's thinking two moves ahead—he sacrifices time for positioning."
Klaus grunted. "Maybe instinct."
"Instinct," Shaw replied, "is intelligence you can't explain yet."
He turned back to the map. "We move the convoy at dawn. Same tech, new formation. The military doesn't expect repetition—they expect innovation. So we repeat, faster. This time we recover the component before Hobbs can blink."
Riley folded her arms. "And if the Torettos show?"
Shaw smiled slightly. "Then we test how fast gods can bleed."
---
Underground garage, South London – 0300 Hours
[Jameson POV]
The night air in London tastes like rain and rust. The kind of chill that gets in your lungs and stays. I'm leaning against Ares—black, red-striped, purring like an animal too awake to sleep. Around me, the crew's in motion: Tej tuning frequencies, Roman pacing, Hobbs arguing with Dom in low growls that could pass for thunder.
The wives move through the garage like ghosts of their own. Ava's adjusting a drone sensor on the rafters; Sarah's syncing data from MI6 intercepts; Alexis runs close-quarters drills against a training dummy that's going to need replacing soon; Katie's sprawled on Ares' hood with a grin that says she's already bored of waiting.
Dom walks over. "You ever sleep, brother?"
I shrug. "Cars don't sleep. They wait."
He laughs, the deep easy sound that fills a space. "Hobbs says Shaw's moving something heavy tonight. We need eyes on the convoy before they shift."
"Already on it," I say, and tap my comms. A holo-display flickers—Sarah's feed mapping intersections in glowing lines.
[(System: Shikamaru Protocol engaged. Predictive model rendering — 68% accuracy at current data load.)]
The overlay blooms in my vision, but I don't blink. Roads turn into veins, vehicles into cells. Movement patterns unfold like chess.
A plan forms before I realize I'm planning. "We hit them at the turn near Tower Bridge," I tell Dom. "It's narrow enough to slow their speed, wide enough for us to flank. Shaw's precise—he'll try to control the battlefield. We take that control first."
Mia looks up from the laptop. "That's almost exactly how he ambushed a convoy in Madrid last year. You've seen his file?"
"No," I answer. "I've seen his mind."
Sarah walks over, wiping oil from her hands. "That's poetic, babe. Creepy, but poetic."
"Everything's poetry if you say it with enough engine noise."
She snorts. "Yeah, that tracks."
Across the garage, Hobbs is finishing a call. His jaw's locked in that way it gets when he's holding bad news behind his teeth. He ends the call, pockets the phone, looks right at me.
"London PD just picked up chatter—Shaw's moving military components through the East Dock route. We've got one shot at catching him before he goes underground again."
Dom crosses his arms. "Then we take it."
Hobbs nods, slow. "We move in fifteen."
As he walks off, I catch his expression—something heavier than duty. Maybe guilt. Maybe memory. Doesn't matter now.
The System hums again, low and electric.
[(System Advisory: Mission Path—Canon Alignment Stable. Hidden Reward—pending completion of Operation: Convoy Intercept.)]
I don't answer. I just slide into Ares' seat. The hum of the supercharger fills the silence between thoughts.
Katie leans in through the window. "We're really doing this again, huh?"
"Same song," I say, "new verse."
"Then let's make it a remix."
She winks, and it's impossible not to grin.
---
Transition POV – Owen Shaw
The convoy rolled out like clockwork. Shaw watched through the monitors as trucks took formation. Rain on the lenses, engines humming in mechanical harmony. The way he liked it.
He turned to Riley. "They'll come."
She raised a brow. "How do you know?"
"Because that's what family does," Shaw said, almost softly. "They chase ghosts."
And for a moment, he looked out into the night—wondering what kind of ghost Jameson Toretto really was.