Deckard Shaw was rammed straight into a deserted underground tunnel by Dom.
Finally, Shaw couldn't take it anymore.
He pulled a clean 180-degree turn and charged head-on, initiating a real man's game of chicken.
A collision at that speed should have wrecked both vehicles.
But Dom was driving a Morin-custom edition.
The result was simple.
Dom's car remained flawless.
Shaw's nearly killed him.
Dom didn't want Shaw to die that easily.
He wanted to beat him first.
He stepped out of the car and cracked his neck.
Shaw exited as well, his face dark. "What the hell is that car?"
"It's a good car," Dom said, patting the silver body.
"Whatever it is, it'll be mine in a minute," Shaw replied. "You never mess with a man's family."
"I told your brother the same thing," Dom said. "Ready? This fight starts now. You and your brother started it."
"You're wrong," Shaw interrupted coldly. "I'm not here to play."
"You and I come from different worlds. I've seen worse street punks than you. In the end, they were kneeling, holding their teeth, begging."
"Heh." Dom sneered and cracked his knuckles. "Don't run. Let me show you something worse."
Click.
The sound of a gun cocking froze him in place.
About twenty feet away, Shaw raised a handgun and stared at Dom like he was an idiot.
"You thought this was going to be a street fight?"
"...."
Dom fell silent.
At that moment, a phrase Morin often repeated surfaced in his mind.
Beyond ten meters, the gun is fast.
Within ten meters, the gun is fast and accurate.
Dom wasn't used to guns.
He stole cars, brawled, raced.
Who knew kids these days had no sense of sportsmanship?
Then something unexpected happened.
The silver Morin-custom supercar beside him reacted.
In less than a second, its door popped open, transformed, and wrapped around Dom, forming a shield.
At the same time, a silver revolver slid out from a hidden compartment.
"Oh."
Dom grabbed the gun.
Shaw fired.
The bullet struck the glass and failed to leave even a scratch.
"What the hell is this car?!" Shaw cursed.
...
"He got away?" Morin stared at Dom like he was looking at an alien. "You just let him leave?"
"I couldn't let him die too fast," Dom said righteously. "That wouldn't do justice to what he did to Han. He needs to feel despair during the chase."
"Give it a rest," Morin said flatly, taking the revolver to inspect it. "Six shots. All misses."
"You're incredible."
"I'm not good with guns to begin with!" Dom argued quickly. "And that guy's skilled! It's not just my fault. Even the agents missed!"
He knew it himself.
Explanation was concealment.
Concealment was the truth.
"It's fine," Morin said, patting his shoulder. "If you don't like guns, you don't like guns. Doesn't matter."
His tone said comfort.
His expression said judgment.
"Yeah," Brian added with a grin. "If you don't like guns, don't use them."
As a former cop, his aim was naturally the best.
He felt qualified to mock.
He forgot one thing.
Mocking your brother-in-law wasn't wise.
Dom slowly turned toward Brian, wearing his classic smile.
That smile carried a hint of killing intent.
"Morin said it first!" Brian retreated instinctively.
His frame couldn't withstand Dom's bulk.
One punch and he'd be on the ground begging not to die.
"...."
Dom's smile widened.
It had been a while since he'd taught Brian about brotherly love.
This kid was poking the wrong place.
Being teased by Morin was one thing.
Morin gave him that car.
Dom could endure that.
But you, Brian?
Absolutely not.
Dom stepped forward to deliver some long-overdue "care."
Because the care was extremely "comfortable," Brian screamed nonstop.
Perfectly normal.
The scene was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Nobody.
Morin didn't stop them.
He even pulled out his phone to record it.
A souvenir.
Mr. Nobody was the commander of a secret U.S. unit.
No name. No identity.
Like the agents in spy movies, he was destined to live in the shadows.
Retirement?
The Bourne Identity.
No Time to Die.
Classic outcomes.
Most died on missions.
Or after.
Mr. Nobody was the same.
But in another world...
Mr. Nobody might not be nobody.
He might be someone else.
"Hello, Ego," Morin said.
"...Ego?" Mr. Nobody froze.
"Yeah. Ego," Morin nodded. "Sounds fitting, doesn't it?"
"I remember someone who looked just like you."
"His name was Ego."
"...It does sound like a good name," Mr. Nobody said after a pause, smiling as he extended his hand. "But unfortunately, I can only be Mr. Nobody."
"Hello, Mr. Morin. Your vehicles shocked us."
"I don't lack money. I don't want anything. And I'm not afraid of anything," Morin replied calmly.
"So you can skip the carrot-and-stick routine."
"This car is a gift for my friend. You don't get to requisition it."
"I won't assist in any of your operations."
"I'm just here visiting."
Morin's words cut off every prepared follow-up.
Mr. Nobody stood there for a long time.
"...Alright," he finally said.