Hello, everyone! This story, Started from the Bottom, takes place during the events of Fast Five. The main character, Michael, was friends with Brian and Roman during their childhood in Barstow, and was then called in for the Rio heist. So this is basically a Fast Five re-imagining, haha. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Barstow, Caliafornia

1995

It was a Tuesday morning in the streets of Barstow, Caliafornia. Early, too; 1:30 in the morning.

The perfect time for a street race!

Young Michael Stewart drove into the alleyway in his 1985 Nissan Skyline R31 GTS-R, parking next to a 1969 Dodge Charger Daytona. Michael stepped out of his car, a bright smile on his face. He looked into the distance to see his friend Roman Pearce, who parked his 1969 Shelby GT 500 next to Michael.

"Mike, what's going on, man?" Roman laughed, patting his friend on the back. "Still pushing imports, huh?"

Mike chuckled. "Very funny, Rome. Sometimes a foreign car gets the job done, compared to your cute little Mustang." With a fake gasp, Mike added, "Sorry, Shelby."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Everyone thinks it's a Mustang," he grumbled. "Where's O'Connor?"

"O'Connor? Or Spilner, because that's what he told the substitute teacher what his last name was today in biology." Mike said jokingly

Roman laughed. Suddenly, the legend appeared: Brian O'Connor drove onto the scene, with his 1980 Chevrolet Camaro. He hopped out, flashing his famous smile. "Mike! Rome! Whats happening?"

Mike and Rome went to greet their friend. "We racing or what?" Mike asked, winking.

Brian nodded. "Been looking forward to this race, man." Brian got into his car, and yelled, "Rome! Don't forget to say hey to No-Knees Denise for me!"

Roman's smile faded. Mike laughed. "And that's why I'm gonna remember prom forever!" Mike called with a snort.

Roman rolled his eyes. "I need some black friends," he grunted.

Mike and Brian drove to the painted starting line at the end of the alley. The race was simple: from the line, left at the end of the alley, right, right, left, and the finish line at the sub shop. Wouldn't be too difficult; not many people were awake in Barstow, at the time.

Brian and Mike revved their engines at the line. A girl walked in between the cars. She pointed to Brian. "Ready?"

Brian revved his engine louder. Mike gulped; it was his first street race, as he had just recently gotten his license. He was 16, Brian 17. He'd always wanted to race Brian, as he was one of his best friends, and Brian was one of the best racers at Barstow High School.

The girl pointed to Mike. "Set?"

Mike took a deep breath, revving his engine. The girl smirked as she looked in between the two racers, then at the crowd waiting impatiently for a race. Then she pointed past the two cars. "Go!"

16 years later

San Diego, Caliafornia

It had been 16 years since Michael's first street race. Now 32 years old, Michael worked as an auto-mechanic in San Diego. He had successfully graduated from Barstow High School at the age on 17 in 1996, alongside Brian and Roman. Since graduation, however, Michael had a criminal record. He moved to San Diego due to many cases of grand theft auto while in Barstow, as well as robbing banks, and even a homicide. Michael had moved to San Diego for a fresh start. Three hours away from his past was good for Michael.

Michael was working on his 2002 Nissan Skyline GTR-R34 when he heard his phone ring. He wiped the grease off his hands, and picked up the phone. The number didn't look familiar. I don't know anyone in South America..

He hesitated. But, he answered the call. "Hello?"

"Michael Stewart. How you doing?"

A smile appeared on Michael's face. "Well, I'll be damned. Brian, what the hell have you been up to? First you get into some trouble after letting your target get away in Los Angelas 10 years ago, and now your wanted in the States because you broke the same guy off a Lopoc prison transfer bus?"

Brian chuckled. "I have gotten into some deep shit. But the shit's even deeper now. So, you wanna come help me out in Rio?"

Michael thought about it. "For what?"

"A job."

Michael smirked. "See you in a day, O'Connor."