Disclaimer: In the summer of 2000, the loose remake of Gone In 60 Seconds hit the theaters. The following summer marked the release of The Fast And The Furious. While one spawned a massive franchise of approximately 837 sequels, and the other remained a standalone film (I'm assuming you know which is which), I personally am a huge fan of both movies. The following short story is a crossover involving characters central to both films. This is fan fiction, folks. While the story is mine, the characters referenced therein are the intellectual property of whoever the hell wrote the scripts of the respective movies, or whoever may have purchased the rights to those scripts and/or characters. I'm making no money from the use of these characters because A) I can't, and B) I'm operating on amateur-level writing talent. To anyone seeking to plaigarize this content, may the fleas of a thousand large hooved animals find you and do unpleasurable things in your nether regions. Actually, I don't really care. Just don't get me in trouble.
On a coastal byway in southern California, a lone vehicle pulled off at a scenic overlook. It was a menacingly beautiful Dodge Challenger SRT, as black as the moonless night. Under the hood sat an engine that loped with the easy confidence of a champion thoroughbred who knew there wasn't a horse on the track that could touch him. The driver brought the machine to a stop, pulled the emergency brake, and opened the door. The man who then emerged from the car was more than a driver; he was a legend. Dominic Toretto was the stuff of mythological lore, the local racing outlaw who had dominated the streets of Los Angeles, and then the world. He had also branched out his criminal enterprise far beyond illegal street racing, having pulled off some of the most daring heists in history. Whether from the point of view of the police (who were always skeptical of his reformed life and seeming abandonment of his criminal past), or from that of the next generation of racing outlaws who venerated him for his racing exploits and his commitment to living life on his own terms, Toretto's name held a status all its own. Behind the wheel, he was a man without equal.
Almost.
Within moments of Toretto's arrival, a second car pulled up beside him. It, too, was a machine of striking beauty: a Ford Shelby GT 500 Mustang, as intimidating as it was gorgeous, gleaming silver with a double black racing stripe down the center. It seemed to glide effortlessly, and one would get the impression that if it could talk, it would protest every moment that it wasn't being driven as hard and as fast as possible. As it rolled to a stop, the mighty V8 idling impatiently, the door opened to reveal the man who piloted this earthbound flying machine. It was none other than Randall "Memphis" Raines, the notorious car thief/speed demon who had years ago disappeared from the L.A. criminal scene when it became evident that he was unintentionally steering his younger brother down that same dangerous road. To the criminal underground, Raines was the hero in an epic poem; the charismatic rebel with nerves of steel and an addiction to danger, whose penchant for risk-taking was eclipsed only by his loyalty to his family and crew. It was said that there were two indisputable truths about Raines: If it had four wheels, he could drive it. And if it was paved, he could conquer it.
The similarities shared by the two men were many. Both were former criminals, each having lived a considerable number of his years on the wrong side of the law. For both, speed was a drug, and the thrill of the chase - whether staying one step ahead of the law or keeping other drivers in the rear view mirror - was the fuel that fed their spirit. Each found freedom behind the wheel, in exploring all of the intracacies of that vital contact between rubber and asphalt, and in testing and pushing all of the boundaries and limits of that relationship. They were wild at heart, seemingly immune to fear in their search for the freedom that had been time and again borne on the wings of danger. And yet, each in his own way had ultimately forsaken the adrenaline- charged pursuit of personal freedom for an even more irresistible force: the bonds of family. They had both seen the lives of friends and loved ones cut short, ended by the malevolent schemes of rival criminals, or claimed by the dangers of the road itself. Over time, they had come to know what it meant to love and to be loved, to have others in their lives that they placed above themselves. After far too many close calls, both had assessed their lives and had decided that they didn't want to leave those people behind, nor did they want to know the unspeakable pain of losing any of them.
However, a beast that is fenced in still has a wild spirit that yearns to break free and run, and two bulls in the same field will eventually lock horns in their shared need to know if each can best the other. As stories on the streets of L.A. and SoCal over the years had launched the legends of Toretto and Raines to the heights of superhuman status, people from Bakersfield to El Cajon argued with one another as to which iconic wheelman would have come out on top, had the two ever actually matched up on the street or track. While people all over amused themselves fantasy booking the Bruce Lee vs. Wong Jack Man of street races, nowhere did the fires of curiosity burn hotter than in the minds of Dom Toretto and Memphis Raines. The "what if"s and "who'da won"s ate at the two, both of whom secretly wondered how they would fare against the other. Pride, as it so often does, prevented either from reaching out, until a chance meeting one day led to a lighthearted conversation, which in turn led to a few laughs shared over the talk that had circulated through much of the west coast about the two. Neither, of course, wanted to let it slip that they were chomping at the bit to get behind the wheel and erase all doubt as to who was the better driver, but the subject was eventually breached, with both expressing a casual interest in possibly setting up a race between the two.
Over the next few days, the talks quickly turned serious as Raines and Toretto discussed the terms of the race. Both agreed that in their post-criminal lives, it was in their best interest to keep their discussions quiet, as any attention drawn to such a contest was almost certain to be negative. Powerful criminal elements would undoubtedly take advantage of the opportunity to make a lot of money wagering, and would certainly seek out ways to try and influence the outcome in order to maximize their financial benefit. On the other hand, the long arm of the law - whose reach is exceeded in length only by its memory - would absolutely jump at the chance to put either or both of these supposedly reformed career criminals behind bars for a very long time. At least some of these problems could be avoided by setting up a completely legit, legal race, but both knew that this could never truly be determined in such a sterile environment as a race track. They had made their names and plied their trades on the streets, and that was the only place to settle the score. It had to be done this way.
They had spent the next couple weeks working on their respective cars. While both were "retired", they had maintained active interests in cars, particularly their own. Dom's Challenger and Memphis' Mustang had each been asphalt-chewing monsters from the factory. But factory condition was not an acceptable status for either man. Each, in their own garages, had turned those metal monsters into labors of love, personally upgrading and fine-tuning everything from engine performance to exhaust flow to suspension and aerodynamics. The two machines were barely street-legal, much more custom than original, and as beautiful as they were lethal. As a matter of personal pride, the two men had kept their rides race-ready, so most of their preparation involved detailed inspection. Each had decided to enlist the help of members of their former crews, both to help them go over their vehicles with a fine-toothed comb, and to inspect and approve of each other's cars. The teams helped plan out the logistics of the race, including the route they would take, and a few "surprises" planned out and agreed upon by both teams.
And now, here they were; two of the most talented drivers to ever sit behind the wheel, standing next to two of the baddest machines to ever touch blacktop. Toretto glanced at Raines' silver Mustang and smiled. Raines looked over at Toretto's black Challenger and nodded in appreciation. The verbal exchange was brief.
"You ready to do this?" Dom asked, offering a hand to Memphis.
Memphis shook Dom's hand and replied, "One time to settle it. Let's leave everything out there, the way it should be."
As they stepped into their cars, Dominic Toretto clutched the crucifix around his neck, then gripped the wheel as all expression left his face except for an icy intensity that filled his eyes. Memphis Raines tilted his head slightly as he put on his mirrored shades. When he raised his gaze, he was once again that fearless daredevil. The two cars pulled out of their parking spaces and turned onto the road, a stretch chosen for the starting leg of the race because it was sparsely travelled this time of the evening, and it had enough twists and curves to make it interesting. With no other traffic in sight, the two pulled to a stop beside one another. With their windows down, Raines looked over at Toretto, whose eyes stared back at him.
"Ready..." Left hands gripped steering wheels as right palms lay on the shifter knobs.
"Set..." Tach needles dove toward red lines as engines revved.
In unison, both shouted "Go!", though they may as well have mouthed the word, as both - anticipating the timing - simultaneously let off the clutch and announced the start of the race with the earth shaking roar of full-throated V8's and a thick cloud of tire smoke. The two racers were pinned back in their seats as their land rockets accelerated at what seemed like an impossible rate. Each driver progressed through the gears with such precision and efficiency that it seemed as if they were part of the machines they were operating, squeezing the maximum amount of power out of those performance-enhanced engines. Neck and neck, Challenger and Mustang barrelled down the road, neither seeming to have the advantage. They slowed only slightly as they went into an S curve at breathtaking speeds that very few human beings would have the skill or the nerve to maintain. Their cars hugged those curves in ways that seemed to be in direct defiance of the laws of physics and the boundaries of mechanical ingenuity.
Crowds of spectators would have paid enormous sums of money to witness the exhibition of racing talent that these two drivers were demonstrating, and they would have bestowed great adulation on the victor while still heaping praise on the defeated for his performance. This race, however, was not about the adulation of fans. It was simply a matter of honor and respect between two legends who needed to know the answer to that all-important question of "What if?" Now, that question was finally going to be answered. It was as if this was a years-in-the-making realization of a dream...
"Randall? Memphis! Anybody home?" Memphis was stunned back to the present by a familiar voice. Dominic Toretto was bent down, peering in his driver's side window. "Is everything okay? You looked like you were a million miles away."
"What? Uh, yeah," Raines answered, shaking off the remnants of a daydream. "I was just lost in thought. Sway sent me up here to pick up some dog food and a couple things for the kids. I saw your Charger in the parking lot and thought I'd wait for you."
"Well I would easily have just left while you were off in outer space."
"Yeah, sorry about that. Just some stuff on my mind. Been a long week."
Toretto nodded. "I know what you mean. Anyway, Letty texted and asked me to stop on my way home and pick up some diapers and a few groceries. Hey, are you guys still gonna be able to come over for the cookout tomorrow?"
"Wouldn't miss it. Sway said Letty called and asked if she could make the potato salad and baked beans."
"Oh man, Letty can't get enough of Sway's famous baked beans. So, hey, this is the new Taurus, huh?"
Raines grinned. "Well, new to me. I got the SHO. It might be a family driver, but I still have to drive it, so it has to have some speed." He looked over at Dom's Charger and grinned again. "You know what I'm talkin' about."
Dom flashed a crooked smile. "Yeah, yeah I do. We might be dads and husbands now, but we're still men. At least one of us is. When are you gonna man up and get a Dodge?"
Memphis sneered. "About the same time you start growing some hair, Cue ball."
"Ouch, that hurts. But not as bad as it's gonna hurt you to find out that I still have the fastest car on the block."
"Do me a favor," Memphis scoffed. "Check and make sure my tail lights are working. You're gonna get a real good look at them when I leave you in my rear view mirror."
"Oh man, you must still be lost in space. Anyway, same terms as usual?"
"Last one to the off-ramp does dishes tomorrow."
"You got it. Tell Sway I said hi."
"Give Letty my best."
The two cars pulled up, side by side, to the parking lot exit. With their windows down, Raines looked over at Toretto, whose eyes stared back at him. Their verbal exchange was brief.
"You ready to do this?" Dom asked.
Memphis replied, "One time to settle it. Let's leave everything out there, the way it should be."