I do not own GLEE or the Fast and The Furious. Those are the property of Ryan Murphy and Universal Pictures respectively. This is AU and contains G!P.. you have been warned. I plan on continuing Transatlanticism eventually… just working out some kinks with the next chapter..
LOS ANGELES, 2001
And if you're planning on taking the Interstate to get anywhere this evening be on the lookout for what the Los Angeles Police Department is calling an underground street racing gang. Three highly modified black 1995 Honda Civics hijacked a semi-trailer truck, stealing over $6,000,000 in merchandise.
Quinn Fabray sat in her green 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse RS 420A in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium, heart still racing after her 140 mile per hour run.
"Shit!" she said hitting the steering wheel.
Her driving skills were good enough, but the car that she was driving topping out at 140 was not going to work if she was going to be delving into the Los Angeles illegal street racing circuit. This was her first assignment as a Los Angeles Police Officer and to put things simply… she didn't want to fuck it up. She put the car in gear before driving to her cover job at 'The Racer's Edge', an auto parts store. Trading the Eclipse for the red Ford F-150 company truck, Quinn drove to 'Lopez's Market and Café' for lunch. The petite brunette working behind the counter looked up when Quinn sat down, a small smirk playing at her lips. Truth be told, she was the main reason Quinn came here to eat.
"Tuna on white, no crust right?" the girl asked, not even looking up from her magazine.
"I don't know how is it?"
"Every day for three weeks you've been coming in here and asking me how the tuna is. Now, it was shitty yesterday, it was shitty the day before. And guess what? It hasn't changed."
Quinn smiled.
"I'll have the tuna."
"No crust?"
"No crust."
As the brunette went to make her sandwich, Quinn could slightly make out a figure sitting behind the mesh wall of the kitchen. Slowly getting up, the person grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, turning around. The girl, Hispanic with short black hair, stared at Quinn as she opened the can with a 'what the fuck are you looking at?' expression on her face. They stared at each other for a few moments before the girl turned away and sat back down. The brunette worker placed a plate down in front of Quinn with a smile.
"Thank you," Quinn says.
Quinn looked up as loud, revving engines boomed out and echoed against the businesses. Four cars: one maroon, one yellow, one blue, and one white pulled in, flanking each other as they parked. Out of the maroon car stepped a tall blonde, wearing black boots, blue skinny jeans, and a red spaghetti strap shirt. Out of the yellow car stepped a tall guy with the classic bad boy look. He had a mohawk and tattoos covering both of his arms. Out of the blue car stepped a guy who could have been labeled as 'the boy next door' if not for his scruffy beard, beanie, and suped up car.
"Talk to me Kurt. This isn't working," he said.
"It's your fuel map, it's got a hole," Kurt replied.
Kurt was a very stylish, obviously gay man that looked like he'd just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue. So of course it was very odd to hear a string of mechanical jargon leave his lips.
"That's why you're unloading in third."
"I told you it was third," the mohawked guy said.
The three men were crowded around the blue car all looking under the hood.
"If I lengthen the injector pulse another millisecond and just tune the NOS timer, you'll run nines," Kurt replied.
The man with the beard suddenly grabbed Kurt's chin, gripping him by the neck as he pointed towards the red truck parked by the curb. He glared as he saw Quinn inside talking to the girl behind the counter.
"What's up with this douche? She in love with sandwiches?"
"No Finn, she's not here for the food," the mohawked man replied.
"Relax man. She's just moving parts for Shannon," the blonde girl said.
"I know what she's moving," Finn replied.
"She's trying to get into Rachel's pants," the mohawked man said as the group made their way into the café.
"What's up guys?" Rachel asked.
"How ya doing Rachel?"
"How's it going girl?" the woman added, "Hey San. You want something to drink?"
The figure behind the mesh simply held up her can. At the counter, Finn slid a bowl of sugar substitute into Quinn's plate, sitting down next to her, staring holes into her. Quinn, not at all intimidated, stared right back.
"She's purdy, Puck," Kurt said.
"I like her haircut," Puck replied.
"Finn… FINN!" Rachel yelled.
"What?"
"Can I get you anything?"
"You look good."
Quinn looked over at Finn, rolling her eyes before standing. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet, pulling out some cash and tossing it on the counter.
"Thanks a lot Rachel, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure."
"Tomorrow?" Kurt mumbled.
"I love this part," Puck replied, eating some chips out of the bag he held.
"Yo!" Finn said, smacking the counter before getting up to follow Quinn outside, "Try In-N-Out from now on you can get yourself a Double Double with fries for $4, faggot," he said.
"I like the tuna here," Quinn replied as she kept walking to her truck.
"Bullshit asshole, no one likes the tuna here."
"Yeah, well I do."
With one push from behind, Quinn was slammed face first into her truck. She turned around, quickly landing a punch to the man's face. They were soon trading punches in the middle of the street. The chaos was not lost on those inside the café.
"Jesus Christ, San! Would you get out there? I'm not kidding, I'm sick of this shit," Rachel said.
The girl grunted as she stood up, her black eyes finding the two fighting in the street.
"What'd you put in that sandwich?"
"That's really funny."
"San!" Brittany yelled.
"All right."
Finn was now straddling Quinn, punching her repeatedly. San made her way outside with everybody following her. Quinn finally got up before being shoved hard into a car.
"Hey man, he was in my face," Quinn said holding her hands up.
"I'm in your face!" San yelled.
Finn took that as an opportunity to lunge at Quinn before being shoved back by San.
"Relax! Don't test me!" San yelled, "Don't fucking embarrass me."
Puck held Finn back.
"Get over there!" Puck yelled, pushing him.
"Kurt, give me the wallet," San said.
Quinn hadn't even noticed her wallet had fallen out of her pocket and was now lying in the street. Kurt picked it up and handed it to San who snatched it away, looking at the ID inside.
"Quinn Elisa Agronsky. Sounds like a Polish serial killer name. Is that what you are?"
"No man."
"Don't come around here again," San said, holding out her wallet.
"Hey man, you know this is bullshit," Quinn replied taking it.
San, who had been walking away, turned around irritated, quickly back to where Quinn was still standing.
"You work for Shannon right?"
"Yeah. I just started."
"You were just fired."
Review. Continuing chapters will have more original content.