Night had fallen. It was now 6 PM. The group left Brian's house—now that the plan was set, they had to start preparing in advance.
CTU had scheduled Alex's transfer for 10 AM the day after tomorrow. That gave them 40 hours to get everything ready. There was still a lot to do, and time was tight.
Brian drove off—he was in charge of securing their escape after they grabbed Alex, so he needed to make all the necessary arrangements in advance.
Ash also left—she had to contact Monica's friend and handle all the weapons. Since they didn't want to involve the FBI or CTU, they couldn't use their old firearms. Everything had to be acquired separately.
Owen drove around the city with Heat. He had already contacted the Black Dog gang earlier—those guys had always been involved in trafficking contraband, but since they operated outside Owen's jurisdiction, he never bothered arresting them.
The explosives they needed weren't ordinary—Heat had put together a list, and Owen planned to ask the Black Dog gang if they could get their hands on them.
Those guys usually operated at night—you wouldn't see them during the day. They had arranged to meet at 10 PM.
Since there was still some time before then, Owen and Heat drove around looking for vehicles. According to their plan, they needed two cars capable of navigating through the sewer system. The vehicles couldn't be too large, but they had to be powerful. Owen had a few models in mind and remembered that there were plenty of them in Eastside.
They drove to Eastside, and after a quick search, they found several suitable cars. Owen pulled over in an area without surveillance cameras, grabbed his tools, and got out.
Stealing cars was nothing new to him. With the right tools, it didn't take much effort to pick the lock.
The alarm only blared twice before Owen disabled it. He climbed into the car, fiddled around for a moment, and before the owner could even react, he hotwired the engine.
Headlights illuminated the dark alley. The engine roared, and Owen drove off into the night.
They left their own car in the alley where they had stolen the first vehicle. Now, both of them were driving stolen cars to a more secluded location.
Owen had deliberately chosen spots without surveillance, so even if the thefts were discovered, it wouldn't be easy to trace them back.
After confirming the coast was clear, a shadow slipped out of the car. A few minutes later, another vehicle fell victim to Owen's skills. Now, each of them had a car, and they drove off separately.
On the highway, Owen led the way while Heat followed behind. As they drove, Owen called Dominic and made arrangements.
By the time they arrived at Dominic's repair shop, he was already there, waiting for them.
"Beep beep~~"
Owen and Heat pulled their cars into the garage, honking to greet Dominic.
Dominic came out to meet them, grinning as he bumped fists with Owen. His deep, magnetic voice carried a hint of amusement.
"Hey, man, you need both of these modified?"
"Yeah."
Owen returned the fist bump and introduced Heat to Dominic.
After a quick greeting, Owen patted the hood of one car and said, "I need both vehicles lifted, reinforced bumpers, and enhanced power—basically, they need to handle off-road conditions."
"Wow, sounds like you're turning these little guys into beasts…"
Dominic chuckled, walking around the two Mini Coopers. Noticing the exposed wires under the steering column, he added with a smirk, "I'll swap out the plates for you too."
"That'd be great."
Owen bumped shoulders with Dominic again. "It's all in your hands, man."
"No problem. When do you need them?"
"By noon tomorrow—the sooner, the better."
Dominic frowned. "That's tight. It'll be a rush job."
Owen apologized, "I know, but I really need your help. It's urgent."
"Alright, I'll have them ready by noon. Wait for my call."
Dominic agreed without hesitation. Then he clapped his hands and shouted to his crew, "Alright, guys, let's get to work! Lift the chassis, reinforce the bumpers, and give these babies a monster heart. Let's make them fly!"
Owen and Dominic bumped fists again. Dominic was well-known in the underground modding scene—his work was top-tier. These modifications were nothing for him.
Just as Owen was about to leave, a red sports car in the corner caught his eye. It looked very familiar.
He walked around the car, examining it from every angle. The more he looked, the more certain he was. "Is this Soderberg's car?"
"Haha, yeah, but it's mine now. Soderberg lost it to me last night."
Dominic said this with pride.
Owen, having been a regular in underground street racing himself, knew exactly what had happened. Illegal street racing wasn't just about skill—it was about money, too.
Winning a race wasn't just about being a good driver; having a powerful car made all the difference. That was why so many people were obsessed with tuning their rides.
A fully modified car wasn't cheap. Between the base vehicle and upgrades, costs could range from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of dollars—sometimes even as much as a supercar.
New engines, upgraded brakes, custom rims, improved cooling systems, fine-tuned torque and suspension, nitrous boosts—the list went on. The final result was always an entirely transformed machine.
Regular underground races usually had bets of a few thousand dollars. But when rich kids or desperate gamblers got involved, they'd go all in—betting their cars outright.
A highly customized street beast like this was an adrenaline rush to drive, but losing it was painful.
Owen had seen this red sports car before—it belonged to a rich kid named Soderberg. That guy had poured at least a few hundred grand into its modifications. Now, thanks to a bad bet, Dominic owned it.
Typically, when a car owner had money, they'd buy back their ride.
If they didn't have the cash, though, there wasn't much they could do. Some winners would keep the cars as trophies, while others—especially if they weren't loaded—would sell them off or strip them for parts.
As for Soderberg's car, Owen figured the guy would probably try to buy it back. But Dominic wasn't exactly strapped for cash, so whether he'd sell it was another question.
"Hey, man, there's a race on Brooklyn Street in three days. You wanna give it a shot?"
Even though Owen had been a cop, he and Carlos were well-known in the street racing scene. The other racers never saw them as cops—they were just fellow drivers.
Owen actually knew about the Brooklyn Street race—it was being organized by a group of rich kids.
Most of them weren't great drivers, but their cars were top-tier. The race would be packed with limited-edition supercars and plenty of beautiful women, making it a popular event among underground racers.
But by then, Owen figured he'd still be in Colombia, so he shook his head and declined. "Nah, I'll probably still be busy. We'll see."
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