Ford mustang, Dom's Efficiency
It wasn't until quite some time after walking away from Dom's quiet, imposing residence that Arthur Sterling gradually came back to his senses. The cool California night air brushed against his face, clearing the lingering tension of his high-stakes negotiation with the massive street racer.
So, did I just pass his paranoid test? Arthur thought, stopping under the flickering yellow glow of a streetlamp.
He looked down at the heavy brass key resting securely in the palm of his calloused hand. It was undeniably a Ford car key, the worn metal grooves telling a story of countless miles and high-speed pursuits.
Arthur had worked at the grimy neighborhood repair shop for a good while, so he was quite intimately familiar with the massive fleet of high-performance cars officially registered under Dom's name.
Dom owned many heavily modified cars, most of which were purchased over the last few chaotic years right after his tight-knit crew officially started their highly lucrative, dangerous career as highway bandits.
But the towering man's absolute favorite, without a single shadow of a doubt, was the menacing, pitch-black Dodge Charger he had proudly inherited from his late father.
Over the past few adrenaline-fueled years, Dom had sunk at least several hundred thousand dollars in illicit cash directly into that specific Dodge Charger.
He had completely overhauled and ruthlessly upgraded that beautiful vintage car from the inside out several distinct times, constantly pushing the boundaries of mechanical engineering.
He had even meticulously prepared several different, highly specialized sets of heavy component configurations strictly for different types of illegal street races.
Relying entirely on his raw talent and endless funds, he had forcefully turned a decades-old vintage muscle car into one of the most terrifying, high-performance vehicles in all of California, and perhaps even the entire West Coast of the United States.
Even modern, sleek supercars costing well over a million dollars might not necessarily exceed that roaring Dodge Charger in certain raw, straight-line performance aspects.
Besides that legendary black beast, Dom also currently owned six other cars of completely different global brands.
Ford, GM, Volkswagen, Toyota, Honda, and Mazda.
None of them were flashy luxury cars or exotic supercars; they were simply ordinary sedans and agile coupes blending perfectly into the city traffic.
However, the vast majority of the dirty, untraceable money Dom had violently earned over the last few years had been relentlessly spent on these exact vehicles, so almost every single car in his fleet had been heavily, professionally modified by him at least once.
The specific key given to Arthur, unsurprisingly, should perfectly fit a Ford Mustang.
Speaking of which, Arthur had actually seen that specific, aggressive car before.
To be far more precise, his predecessor's deeply buried memories recalled seeing it parked proudly in the garage bays.
It was a sleek, fourth-generation Ford Mustang, a powerful 2001 model with a widened stance.
Although the fourth-generation Ford Mustang wasn't always universally recognized by purist car enthusiasts as a proper, heavy-duty American muscle car, it still proudly inherited the excellent, aggressive genes of the first three generations of Mustangs, possessing a massive engine displacement and terrifying raw horsepower, while also being incredibly youthful, aerodynamic, and stylish on the neon-lit streets.
Dom had specifically bought the lightweight, two-seater coupe version and spent a massive mountain of cash specifically to modify its suspension and turbo systems.
At a very conservative estimate from Arthur's trained eyes, that exact build couldn't possibly be bought for anything less than a hundred thousand dollars in cold hard cash.
You have to realize that a hundred thousand dollars in the United States, which has always been a notoriously low price floor for global car prices, is easily enough to buy a brand-new, entry-level luxury sports car, like a pristine base model Ferrari Roma straight off the showroom floor.
If it really is that specific Ford Mustang, then Dom is truly being incredibly generous tonight, Arthur mused silently, his grip tightening around the metal key.
Arthur genuinely hadn't expected that his very first four-wheeled vehicle in this dangerous cinematic life would actually be a highly expensive, combat-ready gift freely given from someone else.
But after a bit of deep, strategic reflection, he firmly decided to accept the keys with absolute peace of mind.
There was absolutely no other reason to refuse.
The sole reason the paranoid Dom was willing to give Arthur such a massive, valuable reward wasn't because the street racer was stupid or easily manipulated.
Quite the absolute opposite.
That large, imposing bald man who constantly looked exactly like he had permanent facial paralysis actually possessed a highly delicate, calculating personality and a deep street wisdom that absolutely didn't match his rough, burly physique.
So this expensive car really was his genuine, calculated reward for Arthur's highly valuable intelligence.
After all, Dom knew best exactly why he was being aggressively targeted by suspected FBI agents or the local Los Angeles police department.
After safely leaving the perimeter of Dom's quiet suburban residence, Arthur smoothly found a secluded, completely unobserved spot in a dark alleyway.
He quickly accessed the void and took out his trusted, heavily modified old motorcycle directly from his invisible dimensional private space.
Straddling the leather seat, he kicked the engine to life and quickly drove the roaring vehicle straight toward the neighborhood repair shop's back warehouse.
The heavy steel doors of the repair shop's storage warehouse were naturally locked tight for the night, secured by thick industrial chains and padlocks.
However, this minor physical obstacle absolutely didn't stump Arthur in the slightest.
His highly practical [Lockpicking] skill level had already reached LV2 through constant, dedicated practice.
Opening highly complex, modern electronic bank vaults would naturally still be very difficult and time-consuming for his current level, but dealing with some simple, rusted mechanical door locks and basic padlocks was easier than it had ever been before.
After arriving quietly at his dark destination and killing the bike's engine, Arthur accessed his private space and took out a specifically configured, professional-grade lockpicking tool kit.
The heavy brass lock securing the repair shop warehouse wasn't complicated at all.
After only a short, focused while of meticulously fiddling with the tension wrench and the rake, he felt the satisfying, heavy click of the internal tumblers falling perfectly into place and opened the warehouse.
Once inside the dark, oil-stained cavern, Arthur didn't need to spend much time searching the shadows before he spotted the aggressive silhouette of the car Dom had given him resting quietly in the back of the warehouse.
Just as his highly intelligent mind had accurately guessed before, it was undeniably Dom's heavily modified Ford Mustang.
Using the brass key Dom had just given him, he easily unlocked the driver's side door, pulling it open to reveal a pristine, custom-stitched interior, and sat down heavily inside the low, supportive bucket seat.
The absolute moment he turned the key in the ignition and started the car, he instantly felt the immense, terrifying power radiating directly from the tuned engine block.
With his calloused hand resting firmly on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, Arthur suddenly felt exactly as if the heavy steel machine were a natural, biological extension of his own arm.
The advanced LV4 [Driving] skill indeed vastly exceeded his already high expectations.
Earlier, when Arthur's driving ability had officially reached LV4 through his relentless motorcycle riding, he had profoundly felt that many highly advanced driving techniques, drifting mechanics, and evasion tricks had magically appeared in his enhanced mind.
Most of those complex, high-speed maneuvers were directly related to handling four-wheeled combat cars.
Arthur had taken his standard driver's license test back in his exhausting previous life.
Although he hadn't possessed enough money to buy his own car back then, he had driven cheap rentals and borrowed vehicles many times.
Even so, when the supernatural [Driving] skill officially reached LV4 in this reality, the flawless techniques and high-speed cornering tricks that vividly appeared in his mind still made Arthur feel exactly like he had benefited immensely, instantly transforming him into a world-class precision driver.
Vroom!
The heavily modified, high-horsepower turbo engine emitted a low, aggressive, and deeply satisfying hum that vibrated through the floorboards.
Arthur skillfully and flawlessly drove the powerful machine with just one hand on the wheel, smoothly pulling the Mustang out from the dark confines of the back warehouse and into the cool night air.
He stepped out briefly to firmly lock the warehouse doors back up exactly as he had found them, leaving no trace of his entry.
He quickly slid back into the driver's seat, engaged the heavy clutch, and aggressively started the car forward.
The vehicle, which looked absolutely brand new under the streetlights, soon disappeared completely into the dark Los Angeles night.
The very next day, the bright California sun hanging high in the sky, he still hadn't received a single encrypted call from Old Parker or the elusive Charlie Croker.
After relentlessly training his physical combat skills for several grueling hours at both the gritty boxing gym and the highly secure shooting club, Arthur drove out to the golden coast.
He went fishing quietly by the crashing sea for a while and took a long, refreshing swim in the cold saltwater to relax his sore muscles.
It wasn't until dusk slowly approached, painting the sky in deep shades of orange and purple, that he finally took action. He grabbed a newly purchased, high-resolution compact digital camera from his jacket pocket.
He quietly and methodically approached the massive auto parts store where the federal agent Brian O'Conner was currently working deep undercover.
He found a perfect vantage point in a nearby parking structure and patiently snapped a few highly clear photos of the blonde man exactly after he clocked out and got off his retail work shift.
At the exact same time, relying heavily on his enhanced senses and stealth, he carefully and flawlessly followed the agent through the bustling city traffic.
He took a few more damning photos of Brian loitering suspiciously near Mia Toretto's family cafe, clearly trying to find an angle to infiltrate the crew.
To Arthur's great surprise, something he genuinely hadn't even expected to happen so easily unfolded right before his eyes.
The very first time he actively tailed Brian through the neon-lit streets, the overconfident guy drove directly to the massive, heavily fortified FBI field office situated in downtown Los Angeles right after dark.
As a direct, highly rewarding result of his patience, Arthur successfully and clearly captured several undeniable photos of Brian swiping a badge and walking straight into the federal FBI building.
Anything more incredibly detailed or risky than that was absolutely unnecessary for his manipulative plan.
Arthur knew very well that the paranoid Dom actually already believed his previous, verbal claims about the federal surveillance.
However, while it was absolutely true that Dom was the undisputed leader and patriarch of the street racing gang, suddenly ordering his adrenaline-fueled men to completely stop their highly lucrative truck hijackings without providing any solid, undeniable visual evidence to fully convince them would be a massive mistake.
Such a sudden, unexplained halt in their massive cash flow would surely lead to some greedy people in the crew grumbling and heavily harboring dangerous resentment in secret, even if they didn't dare to say it openly to Dom's face.
Dom always fiercely treated his loyal crew exactly as his own blood family, so he naturally felt a heavy, crushing responsibility for their ultimate survival and safety.
If someone in the frustrated crew were to blindly and recklessly organize a highway operation entirely on their own out of sheer financial dissatisfaction, they might not only violently get themselves caught by the authorities, but they would also highly likely expose Dom and the absolute rest of the entire crew to federal prison.
Therefore, Dom had absolutely no other choice but to be incredibly cautious and demand hard proof.
In the bustling downtown market district, Arthur easily found a decent, discreet photo lab and paid cash to have all the surveillance pictures developed in high resolution.
Arthur genuinely was in absolutely no rush to deliver the damning photos directly to Dom. He strategically planned to wait a couple of quiet days to let the tension simmer.
Unexpectedly, right around noon on the third sunny day of his wait, his encrypted phone vibrated loudly on the table.
Dom actually called his secure line entirely of his own accord.
When Arthur calmly answered the call, the deep, cold male voice echoing through the speaker immediately perked him up.
"I found the exact person you are looking for."