The venue for Race Wars was an abandoned airfield out in the desert. It was the testing grounds for new racers as well as old, as nearly every crew from every borough came together for the weeklong extravaganza. The neutral ground was perfect for truly determining whom the better racer was, and no rivalries were allowed to pass through the gates. If you had a grudge against someone, you left it back on the streets.

Race Wars was also the place to wipe slates clean and bury old skeletons once and for all, as Cale had hoped to do. She and her friends kept a very low profile, knowing that the mystery would drive the entire plan. Of course, Cale spent more time trying to keep Mackenzie from flipping out, as she got her first, real glimpse at this underground world, than worrying about anything else.

"I can't believe you guys are involved in this. I mean, how...?"

Cale smiled at Justin and Chris and rolled her eyes. It was now Mac's fifteenth time through this speech, and it wasn't even 10am. With a shake of her head, Cale disappeared into their trailer.

---------

A few hours later, once things were in full swing, Dominic Toretto and Marc Davis walked the grounds, checking out the competition.

"Heard you had a good crew this year," Dom asked.

"Meh, good enough. Nothing near what I had a few years back."

Dom chuckled. "This is why I still have the same people on my team."

"Smart move. But you know I was forced to rebuild after Butch fucked me over with that Wild Force thing." Marc shook his head. "Nah. I know I'll never get as good as I had. Which is why I'm thinking of handing Rockport over to Razor."

"Razor? Are you shitting me?" Dom gave Marc a look that suggested the other man was crazed.

"Yeah, Razor. Kid's a bit of work, but he's the only one good enough to take over. And hey, who knows, the fresh blood may revive us."

"Now I know the sun's getting' to ya." Dom paused in mid-step to look at Marc. The other man had stopped and was watching a black and blue painted Mazda RX-8 drive to the line. "What's wrong, you know that car?"

Marc peered over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin Dom. "I don't know. That RX-8 looks awfully familiar. Almost like the one Wild Force used to race. I mean, the paint job's all wrong, but other than that, there's just something I can't put my finger on that's different..."

"Wild Force? That kid that caused you all those problems?"

"Oh, she never caused me problems. Kid was golden, I swear. Almost as good as you, if you can believe it."

Dom snorted. "Right, sure. Believe that when I see it."

Marc grinned. "No, seriously. I've never seen a chick race like that, and certainly not that young, either. I was an inch away from making her a part of my team when it came out she had fixed one of her races."

"I remember that. Butch claimed that Force fucked with his car, causing him to lose a big race to her."

Marc nodded. "Yeah. They were racing for slips. He had a Cayman S he was showing off one night. His lack of driving skills in such a beautiful car made Force cry, so she put her RX-8 up against it. She wanted to liberate from the hell that was Butch's ineptness. She won the car and took ownership. Shortly after, Butch began spreading the rumour she cut his oil-line, which is why he lost. No one recalls seeing an oil-slick at the start line, though, but because he started yelling about it so far after the fact, it didn't matter."

Dom nodded and they fell silent.

After a few moments, Marc continued. "No one would take her on for a race. If it were even hinted that she might be in the line-up, the other racers would back out. I had no choice but to toss her out of Rockport. I couldn't do anything to help her and it killed me."

Dom glanced over his shoulder, but a new pair of racers had rolled up. "You think she might be back?"

"I don't know. She dropped off the radar shortly after that. No one knows where she went."

They fell silent again, and continued their tour of the grounds. They parted at sundown with promises to meet up in the morning.