BENEATH THE MASK

Here we go..

Disclaimer: I mean, really? If I owned HP or Fast and Furious I would be out making millions, not pleading for reviews on a fanfiction site.

Warning: Eh. More cursing I guess.

SUMMARY: Kaiden Grant and his second-in-command, Drake Stanford, are underground Miami's most infamous street racers and even more dangerous crime lords. Ever since they showed up in Miami, they hadn't lost a single race. Kaiden Grant and Drake Stanford were the Kings and everybody knew it. But where had they came from, and why? What dark secrets lay beneath their masks?

CHAPTER 1

Oh. Shit.

Those two words were the only words running through Brian's head at this moment in time. The Customs officer glared at him, throwing a thick manila folder onto the table. Brian stared resolutely at the table, his mind racing. What on earth had he done that warranted Customs interrogating him? He'd never even left the country for crying out loud.

"So, how long have you been in South Florida?"

"A while." Brian drawled as he lounged on the hard chair they had thrown him on.

"And before that?"

He just rolled his neck as he stretched his legs out.

"We know you're Brian O'Conner. Formerly of the LAPD."

Surely this all wasn't about how he dropped out of the force? "Man, you've got the wrong guy." Brian denied as he traced nonsensical patterns on the steel table. The door of the interrogation room opened and when Brian's stomach filled with dread when he glanced up. Shit.

"How are you, O'Conner?"

Three months! He had managed to evade them for three months with no troubles whatsoever. Yet, the moment that he gets kissed senseless by a stranger who was gorgeous and knew how to race, the cops show up to drag his sorry ass back to Bilkins. He sighed as he slouched back in the chair. "Just peachy, Bilkins. Just peachy."

Bilkins smirked. "Let's take a walk O'Conner."

The Customs agent threw Bilkins the key with a smirk, which he used to unlock the handcuffs on Brian's wrists. Brian rubbed at his wrists as he stood up and followed Bilkins out, where they walked to what looked like a large conference room. Brian was about to dismiss the whole room and just drop into a seat when his wandering eyes caught sight of the projector and the face on it. Bilkins took a seat next to him as the Customs agent walked in with another beside him. "This is Agent Markham; you'll be assisting him in his investigation."

"What if I don't? What's in it for me?" Brian countered. He wasn't going to work for Customs and the Feds; he had given up playing for the law, and he wasn't going back without a fight.

Bilkins calmly passed him a manila file. "Well, here's a list of all the laws you broke between here and L.A. Obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting; you know the rap sheet. You're looking at a very long prison sentence. But we could make it all go away, in the interest of justice. If you're willing to play ball."

Brian was silent as he looked over his rap sheet, flipping the sheet over to see another full page beneath it. Jesus. Why on earth did he have to break so many laws? Finally, he looked up with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Lay it on me."

Agent Markham gestured to the projector screen. "Kaiden James Grant. Twenty-three year old male." The picture changed. "Drake Marcus Stanford. Twenty-four year old male. Both are originally from Britain. They came to America when Grant was nineteen and Stanford was twenty, though the reasons for it are unknown. They spent three years in Los Angeles with Dominic Toretto and his team before moving here last year. They own a nightclub called Emerald Dragon, which we believe is their centre of operations."

Brian felt his chest tighten at the mention of Dom and the crew. He would do anything to take back every single mistake he had made last year. Mistakes that he would regret for the rest of his life. The screen changed again, this time to a picture of them both. "Kaiden Grant and Drake Stanford are known more infamously as the 'Kings' of the streets. And they've got every single underground member under their thumbs. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens without their approval. Unfortunately, they approve everything that we wouldn't." Markham looked grim. "It's no coincidence that everywhere these two are, crime skyrockets and more people are reported either missing or dead. Lately, intel shows that they've been getting ready for something big with Carter Verone who owns the biggest import-export business in Miami; he's also one of the biggest drug cartels in the country. You are to get close to Grant. Find out what the deal is and what they're doing with Verone. Agent Dunn will be your partner and he will be working on cracking Stanford. You do this for us," Markham gestured towards the rap sheet. "And we'll clear your record."

Brian mulled it over in his head for a long moment to string along the Fed before he sighed and stood up, strolling over to Agent Dunn. "So, Dunn. Looks like me and you are gonna be partners bro." Brian shook hands with the bewildered Dunn. "Just tell me something real quick. What would be a better engine for my Skyline; a Gallo 12 or a Gallo 24?"

"Uh. 24?"

"I didn't know pizza places made motors." Brian said flatly, gesturing towards the Gallo's Pizza drink in Dunn's hand, before turning to look at Markham. "See man? If this is what you're gonna give me, I might as well take my chances in Chino." Brian turned to Bilkins. "There's only gonna be one way that I'm doing it. And that's if I get to pick the driver."

"Alright, O'Conner." Bilkins relented. "Who have you got in mind?"

"This dude I grew up with in Barstow. Roman Pearce."

~BTM~

Kaiden rolled his eyes, bored beyond belief, as he watched cars smashing into other cars in the big dirt compound. Barstow was fucking dusty; something you'd expect from a town in the middle of the desert. And their idea of sport, car smashing, was fucking barbaric. How Drake found this shit interesting, he'd never know. Or, actually, maybe he did.

Kaiden watched with bright eyes as Drake's eyes stayed glued on the African American man getting out of his car, having been declared the winner. His eyes darted from Drake to the man before a wide smirk crossed his lips. At least Drake had good taste; the African American was a god, for lack of a better word, despite participating in the archaic desert sport.

"I'll just leave you to it then, Drake. I'll be in the car." Kaiden said with a chuckle as he walked off and slid into Drake's Ferrari to wait out his friend in a blissfully air conditioned environment. He watched with an amused smile as Drake sauntered up to his new piece of booty. He didn't have to hear their conversation to know exactly how Drake was playing the man. He knew his man whore of a friend all to well. But his amused eyes widened when he realised that the African American was dominating the kiss, and that Drake was letting him. He knew instantly that this man wasn't going to be just another booty call, just another one night stand for Drake. He also knew that if this man hurt Drake… The fucker had better know how to run, and run fast. Because if Kaiden caught up with him – only one of them would be walking out of it alive, and it sure as well wouldn't be the one that hurt Drake.

He waited patiently as Drake broke off the kiss and pressed a piece of paper into the other man's hand. As soon as Drake was in the car, Kaiden revved the engine of Drake's Ferrari and shot off. Drake slowly came down from his high, a stupid smile spread across his lips. Despite how tightly wound he was, Kaiden was still amused by the sight.

"You're tense, Kaiden."

"I'm fine. What had you leaving in a hurry?"

Drake glanced at the raven haired man in the driver's seat. He knew Kaiden. And he had known the moment he asked that Kaiden would deny it, even if it was true. "Cops. Coming for Rome."

"So that's his name." Kaiden commented.

"Yeah. Roman Pearce." This time the silence in the Ferrari was slightly more bearable than before. Drake noticed that some of the tension had disappeared from Kaiden. Kaiden was worried for him, Drake realised.

"Drake."

"Hmm?"

"I'll always have your back." Drake looked at Kaiden, who was staring at him intently, his emerald green eyes serious and conveying the unspoken words.

Drake was silent for a long time. He knew that Kaiden was talking about the mental just as much as he was talking about the physical. He knew that Kaiden was talking about what would happen to Rome if the African American ever stepped out of line. "I know." He said quietly, the corners of his lips curling up into a soft, true smile as he looked towards the younger man that he called his brother. "I know."

~BTM~

"Is that your boy in the Monte Carlo?"

"Yeah. He's crazy as hell." Brian said with a chuckle. "In a good way though. He's the man for the job." He amended as he glanced at Bilkins' wary expression. They both watched Rome climb out of the destroyed Monte Carlo, the crowd screaming his name.

"He always said he'd be famous." Brian noted, a soft smile on his face as he looked at his childhood friend. After losing him for a brief moment as the crowd surged out of the derby as one, they spotted him outside of the derby, looking at a slip of paper with a small smile. "Hey, Pearce. Roman Pearce!"

Brian glanced over at Bilkins. "Hey, whatever happens next… Just let it go." At Bilkins' nod, he whistled. "Rome!"

The African-American slowed, carefully folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket, before he turned around with a furious scowl. "Only my homeboys called me Rome. Pig."

"I'm not a cop anymore, bro."

Rome glanced at Bilkins standing in the background. "Is that true? Blondie here ain't a cop anymore?"

"That's right." Bilkins confirmed. "No badge."

Rome rolled his neck as he glared at Brian for a long moment, before he balled up his fist and threw a vicious right hook at him. Brian ducked and they both tumbled to the ground, fists flying. "You should've told me! I did three years because of you, Brian!"

"I told you it wasn't my fault!" Brian shouted, pinning the other man in a chokehold.

"What the hell are you doing here, O'Conner? I told you to stay away from me!"

"I've got a deal for you."

Rome grunted as he rolled himself back on top, kicking the blonde in the side, before throwing himself onto the dirty ground, effectively ending the tussle. "When I needed your ass you were nowhere to be found. And now you're handing out deals?" He stood up with a hiss, reaching down to readjust the band around his ankle.

"I need you to come to Miami and drive with me. If you do, they'll take off that anklet and clear your entire record."

Rome scowled at him before he walked over to his camper caravan, where Bilkins was seated outside. "Is this deal legit?"

Bilkins nodded. "That's right, if you do this job for us."

"I told you." Brian muttered.

Rome glared at him. "Shut up, punk."

"Man, quit playing like you're gonna pass this up." Brian said with a smirk. Rome just muttered curses under his breath as he threw some sand at the blonde before yanking open the door to his caravan.

~BTM~

Brian sat staring blankly at the wall as he waited for Markham and Bilkins to finish briefing Rome. He noticed absentmindedly that they had given his friend a decided less detailed briefing then the one they had given him. He dragged his attention back to the present when they mentioned cars.

"On the topic of cars; do you know how long I worked on that Nissan Skyline? Which Nissan Skyline, you ask? The one that you guys short circuited and fried with your ESD[1]. Yes, that Nissan Skyline." Brian told Bilkins with an irritated frown, his outburst so unlike him. But he thought he was fully justified in this instance. Every time he thought about his ruined silver Skyline, he just got so irritated. He had worked on that car for god knows how long with Dom; it held memories of a year of normality and acceptance, one that he longed to return to.

He smiled indulgently as Rome whooped in joy at seeing the two cars that the FBI was providing them. Rome announced that he was taking the purple Mitsubishi Eclipse GTS Spyder convertible, to which Brian just responded with a shrug as he climbed into the gold Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VII. He was too preoccupied with his conflicting thoughts on the sheer absurdity of going undercover against Kaiden Grant, street king and supposed mafia boss, to notice the drool worthy cars and their equally drool worthy rims. He completely disregarded the conversation between Rome and the undercover Customs agent, Monica Fuentes; even when she slid into his car with him.

Brian shook his head lightly as he slipped the key into the ignition; he had probably just signed his life away by agreeing to do this. Still shaking his head, he put his foot to the pedal and shot out of there, the Eclipse on his tail. Brian silently got ready for the ride of his life.

He had to be if he wanted to make it out alive.

[1] – ESD stands for Electronic System Disabler.

AN: Yay or nay?

Cheers,

UponAtlas.