=Midnight, Beacon Hill=

One thing Sean would have to get used to is inhaling second-hand smoke from his own shredded rubber. Drifting had long since become second nature to him, even more so than breathing, and he found himself showing off at the end of his races with a donut show whenever he had the chance. In a circle, he ripped away whatever tread remained on his Mustang's tires, celebrating the victory he had secured just a minute ago.

Of course, the crowd loved it, but even more so was his team, looking over towards him in pride as he put on an encore. Dom stood as his usual badass self, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Sean finally stop and step out of the car. Neela, with her sultry smile and strut, fished her boyfriend away from his car and into her kiss. As usual, like they'd come to expect, the night was theirs.

It always was.

…Until someone had to come and contest for attention.*

Like the wind, everyone's attention shifted toward the sound of an engine that was comically loud and unique in its timbre. Even Dom was thrown off, and he'd swear up and down he sung along to every tune any sort of engine could sing. This was something else. And to back up the unconventional sounds of the engine was the equally unconventional look of the car it belonged to as it pulled in between the crowds. The badge said "Cadillac", but the proportions were something out of this world.

"Cadillac Sixteen."

Dom arched an eyebrow and looked to his right to see Han tossing a lemonhead into his mouth.

"Never heard of it," replied Dom.

"Technically, you're not really supposed to," confirmed Han. "It's a concept car not available to Joe Schmos like you and me."

"Which means that whoever's showing up to crash the party-"

"-Has money spilling out of their pockets," Han finished for Dom.

To both of the men's surprise, the Cadillac from the future came to a halt directly in front of them. The driver, Karol, stepped out, flashed a greeting toward Dom, and went over to the passenger side. Opening up the door, Booke stepped out, dressed in quite possibly the world's ugliest suit - all snake skin texture that somehow glistened even brighter than the Sixteen's metallic finish.

"Materialistic much?" Muttered Han.

Dom studied Booke's eyes that were hidden behind solid black aviators. Dom wasn't amused by the joke and was too focused on the situation. How odd it was to have someone with a very obvious lot of power take interest in him at a random race.

Booke webbed his hands together in confidence and finally offered a greeting. "Dominic Toretto."

"Who wants to know?"

Bowing his head just enough, Booke responded with, "Yours truly, Booke Teems, of course. Y'see, I'm a big fan of yours, Mister Toretto. Every race you've won in this city, every sucker you've dusted, I've been there to see it. And boy, you leave a brother speechless every damn time."

Dom couldn't help but smile and call Booke out. "I doubt that. I would've noticed you since you stick out like a sore thumb."

Booke chuckled and fished a cigar out of his inner coat pocket. Before he could even toss it into his mouth, Karol was ready with the lighter. Flashes of auburn swept across Dom's impatient face.

"See, the thing is Mister Toretto, I have eyes everywhere in this city. Trust me when I say I know who you are."

Dom exhaled hard. "If you know so much about me, you should know that I like to get straight to the point. What do you want?"

"Oh, I can assure you, partner. It ain't about what I want. It's about what you need."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A man like you? Racin' as hard and often as you've been? Shit, you hustlin' for chump change from these busters." Seemingly out of nowhere, Karol retrieved a briefcase, handed it to Booke, who opened it. "This fifty grand right here. It's yours right now if you drive for me, baby. Consider it a..., eh, a lil' signin' bonus."

Dom tilted his head to the side in thought. He couldn't help but chuckle at the absurd sight. "*Whistle* Fifty big ones right out in the open. Where I'm from, no matter who you are, that'd get you shot. And all that precious money snatched up."

Booke shut the briefcase and cleared his throat. "Now, you're a tough cat, so I'm sure you've been around the block. Y'know how this shit goes down. Y'know what I want…"

"Race for you to keep the Nightburners from being a threat to your business. Yeah. I could guess."

Booke nodded with a cheesy grin. "Just as sharp as I expected. Y'see… here's what I don't get about you so far. Why split turf on Coal Harbor, when you could hit my ranks, and get permission to take it all for yourself?"

Dom fired back faster than Booke was expecting, "Maybe so you could hold us back from pushing into Beacon Hill? Keep you from getting too comfortable in your fancy Cadillacs?"

Nothing could've stopped Booke's smile from completely disappearing in just a flash. Instinctively, both Han and Sean began tossing their heads to and fro to make sure there were no thugs waiting to pop out. Now that the air was getting a bit hostile, it was only natural for them to be reminded of that horrific night with the Eastsiders.

Dom held his ground and let his head tilt upwards in pride, "Wanna know what's funny? I know who you are too, Booke. I know that you're the ringleader of whatever kind of monopoly you have on street racing in Bayview. I also know that the Eastsiders answer to you."

"The same jerks that torched an American classic, mind you," Han lazily added, along with another lemonhead.

"Heh, he's lucky Letty ain't here, ain't he, Dom?" Teased Sean.

Karol and Booke traded a look with another, before Dom continued. "Let me tell you how this is about to play out, Booke. We're gonna keep Coal Harbor split between our crews. I'll let Rachel think that she's got a chance to get more than the piece we're sharing with her. We're eventually gonna take Beacon Hill for ourselves. And Jackson Heights. And the City Center. Now, in between all that, if you have a change of heart or want a fair race, feel free to shout us out."

Dom sprawled out his arms over Han and Sean, and the crowd behind him raised up with his energy. "Until then, all I ask is that you keep your money, and you keep those Eastsiders on a tighter leash… or you're gonna have a bigger problem than Rachel and her crew."

Booke licked his lips and tossed out a laugh. It was amusing for him to have someone with the guts to call him out for a change. "Tell you what, I'll let that little threat you just made slide. I want you to take a day or two to really think about what I'm offerin' you here. 'Cause y'know what they say, Mister Toretto. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"

"Who says that?" Joked Han.

"Listen, this isn't some sort of fantasy," Dom added. "I'm not your friend." Dom took it a step further and pointed at his surrounding team. "We ain't your friends. I can promise you that."

Flicking his shades off, Booke got in Dom's face. "Mister Toretto… heh… you sure you wanna make an enemy out of me?"

All Dom gave was a smirk and a side eye. "I'm glad we understand each other."*