Guldrin’s Gluttony: Family Bound by Speed & Food

The roar of Letty's car faded into the distance, leaving behind a vacuum of silence that seemed to stretch into eternity. 

For a fleeting moment, the shop and its inhabitants were graced with calm. 

Then, like a thunderclap shattering the serenity, Alisa stepped forward. Clapping her hands with the zeal of a drill sergeant, she wore an expression that was equal parts excitement and sadistic glee.

"All right, slackers," she announced, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel. "No time to laze around. Training starts now!"

Guldrin exchanged a wary glance with Shiro, who looked equally resigned. They both knew that glint in Alisa's eye, it promised pain, sweat, and a serious lack of sympathy. 

It was the same look she had when she set them against their opponents in the mirror dimension.

Any hope they might have had for a leisurely day was dashed the moment she whipped out two sleek, metallic bracelets.

"What are those?" Guldrin asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Something you both will come to love and hate. Put them on," Alisa replied, tossing the devices at them with precision.

The moment the bracelets clicked into place, the world shifted. Gravity itself seemed to have turned on them, increasing exponentially. Guldrin staggered but managed to stay upright, though every movement felt like wading through thick molasses. Shiro stumbled as well, her new-found draconic pride keeping her upright despite the strain.

"Gravity regulators," Alisa explained with a smirk that could rival a supervillain's. "They'll increase the gravitational pull around you. Custom-made to push you right to the edge of your capabilities. You're welcome."

Guldrin groaned audibly, rolling his shoulders against the newfound weight. "Thanks… I guess?" he muttered, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Ignoring his tone, Alisa crossed her arms and fixed them with a penetrating stare. "Now, tell me. What kind of 'training' have you two been doing?"

Still adjusting to the oppressive weight, Guldrin straightened as best he could. "We usually do laps for cardio, sprints with weights, some jumping exercises, weightlifting... basic stuff to build a strong foundation. Each morning we go for a weighted run, followed by sprinting home, burpees, jumping on high boxes, and use Dad's old weight room."

Alisa gave a sharp nod, her icy blue eyes flickering with something that might have been approval, if approval ever came without an edge of menace. 

"That's not bad," she admitted begrudgingly, only to shatter the moment a heartbeat later. "But it's not good enough. You're holding back. Maybe it was enough when you masqueraded as a human, but that time is over. You are neither human nor pretending to be one anymore." 

She let the words settle, her voice ringing with absolute conviction. Then, with a slow, deliberate step forward, she tilted her head, her gaze locking onto them like a predator eyeing wounded prey. "You are a Goldblood. A Nephilim. A Dragon. A Spirit. You are beyond mortal limits. And you-" she turned sharply to Shiro, a smirk curling her lips, "Are the inheritor of Vritra's bloodline, a descendant of a High-Human. Do you know what that means?"

Shiro's scowl deepened, her golden eyes flashing. "That I have extra responsibilities and a target on my back?" she shot back, crossing her arms.

Alisa barked a laugh. "That you should stop acting like a fragile little human and start living up to what you are. No more excuses. No more hesitations. You are better. You both are. It's time you started acting like it."

Guldrin clenched his jaw, biting back a response. There was no arguing with Alisa when she got like this, she had a way of making you feel like you were slacking even when you'd pushed yourself to your absolute limits. 

But Shiro? Shiro had never been one to back down from a fight, even a verbal one.

"My legs are short," she huffed, her arms tightening around herself. "I am pushing my limits. It just takes me longer to reach the finish line."

Alisa's grin widened, sharp and challenging. "Then we'll work on speed next. You can thank me later. You are a little dragon now, little mistress. Act like one. Size? A limitation only if you allow it to be. Work harder. Be faster. Adapt. That is what separates the strong from the weak."

Before either of them could protest, Alisa snapped her fingers, and their suffering began.

The so-called "warm-up" was nothing short of hell. A full sprint around the entire property, because, apparently, short laps weren't humiliating enough, with the gravity bracelets dialed up to what felt like an inescapable black hole. 

Each step was a battle against the very laws of physics, their legs straining under the suffocating weight. Every muscle screamed in rebellion. Every breath felt like dragging air through molten tar.

Guldrin's lungs burned as he struggled to keep up with Shiro, who, despite her earlier complaints, was forcing herself forward with sheer willpower alone. Her small frame cut through the air like a bullet, her fists clenched, her brow furrowed in absolute determination.

From the sidelines, Alisa's voice cracked through the air like a whip. "Guldrin! Straighten your back! You're running like a drunken ogre on stilts!"

Guldrin barely managed to lift his head. "I'll straighten my back when this mountain gets off my shoulders!" he growled, his voice thick with effort.

Shiro, despite her own struggles, let out a breathless chuckle. That chuckle died instantly when Alisa's attention swiveled to her.

"Shiro! Pick up the pace! This isn't a casual stroll through the marketplace! You let Guldrin overtake you! Pass him,"

Shiro snapped her glare toward her tormentor, cheeks flushed, teeth clenched. "I have tiny legs!" she shouted between gasps. "They're doing their best!"

Alisa smirked, entirely unsympathetic. "Then make them do better."

By the time they staggered past the finish line, both of them were gasping for air, sweat dripping off their faces in relentless streams. 

Guldrin half-collapsed against a tree, sucking in deep breaths like a man resurfacing from the ocean. 

Shiro doubled over, hands on her knees, her small frame shaking from exhaustion.

But Alisa wasn't anywhere near done.

"On your feet," she commanded, clapping her hands together once. "That was just the start."

Guldrin groaned, lifting his head just enough to glare at her. "The start of what? Our deaths?"

Alisa ignored him, striding forward until she stood between them. "Strength is useless if you can't use it effectively. Endurance is meaningless if it fails you when it matters most. You two need to be better than strong. You need to be unstoppable."

"Now that you're warmed up, let's get to the real training," Alisa announced, her voice far too chipper for anyone who had just gone through the hellish 'warm-up' they had endured. Her smile was far too wide, and her eyes glinted with something that could only be described as sadistic delight.

Guldrin, panting heavily, felt like his entire body was about to implode. 

His lungs burned, his legs were wobbly, and the muscles in his arms felt like they were on fire. 

He could barely stand upright, but the way Alisa was looking at him, almost in anticipation, only made his heart sink further.

"That was the warm-up?" he wheezed, trying desperately to catch his breath. His legs felt like Jello, and every movement seemed like it took twice as long. How could anyone possibly survive more of that?

Alisa's grin stretched even wider, her amusement evident in every line of her face. "Of course. You need to be ready for the real work, after all." She nodded toward the pile of heavy sandbags stacked nearby. "Now grab those weights."

Guldrin's stomach dropped as he saw what she was pointing to. They were huge, massive burlap sacks filled with sand, each one easily weighing as much as he did, if not more. 

The thought of carrying one of those up a steep hill with the gravity on full blast made him want to curl up into a ball and cry for his mother.

"Are you serious?" he asked, trying, and failing, to hide the incredulity in his voice. He was already on the verge of collapse. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"Oh, I'm serious," Alisa replied in that annoyingly perky tone, as if they were about to engage in some light afternoon activity, like gardening or bird-watching. "Come on, don't tell me you're scared of a little sand."

Shiro, still trying to regain her breath from the earlier torture, shot Guldrin a look of determination. "We got this," she said, though her voice was tight with exertion. "We've come this far. What's a few more hills?"

Guldrin managed a grimace of agreement. 

The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could get some rest. But that didn't stop him from feeling like he was about to die from sheer exhaustion.

The steep hill loomed before them. 

The abandoned lot where they trained was quiet, with the occasional creak of rusted metal from an old wrecked car adding a haunting backdrop to their struggle. 

The incline was severe, just steep enough to make each step feel like they were climbing a mountain. The perfect training ground, or rather, the perfect torture ground, depending on how you looked at it.

The gravity regulators they wore made each step an agonizing battle. 

It still felt like walking through thick molasses, each foot dragging through thick, invisible sludge that made even standing upright a monumental task. And then came the sandbags. 

They were bulky, cumbersome, and incredibly heavy, just the kind of thing you'd want to carry up a steep hill when you were already about to collapse from exhaustion.

Shiro was the first to pick up a bag, throwing it over her shoulder with surprising grace, though her legs trembled slightly from the weight. Guldrin followed suit, grunting as he heaved the massive sandbag into place. It felt like his spine might snap under the pressure, but he managed to keep his posture steady for the moment.

Then they began to climb.

Guldrin took a step, then another, feeling the burn in his calves and thighs as the gravity intensified with every movement. It was like his body was being pulled in multiple directions at once, and he was forced to fight with every ounce of strength to stay upright. His breathing was ragged, his chest burning with the effort. Each step felt like a mile.

"Come on, you two! Pick up the pace!" Alisa's voice rang out from behind them, sharp and commanding. She was timing them, pushing them forward with the same relentless energy she'd had during the warm-up. "Think of it as character building! Or don't. Just move faster!"

Guldrin couldn't decide whether to curse her out or thank her for the push. Either way, the result was the same: his legs were on fire, his body begging for mercy.

Shiro, beside him, was panting just as heavily, but there was no giving up in her. The sandbag on her shoulder seemed to weigh a ton, but she didn't show any sign of slowing down. Every step was deliberate, every movement a calculated effort. 

She gritted her teeth, focusing entirely on the pavement ahead. Her face was flushed, her breathing harsh, but she was determined.

At one point, as Guldrin lifted his foot for another step, his legs betrayed him. His left foot slipped, and for a terrifying moment, it felt like he was going to lose his balance completely. 

The sandbag, which seemed to have gained its own sense of malevolent sentience, swung dangerously to the side, threatening to topple him. His heart skipped a beat as his body fought to correct the imbalance.

But just before he could crash to the ground in a heap of sand and muscle, he felt a small, steady hand on his shoulder.

Shiro's hand, despite her own exhaustion, was firm, and she steadied him with surprising strength. She planted her feet, her smaller body somehow finding stability against the insane gravitational pull that threatened to pull them both down.

"Thanks," Guldrin panted, his voice full of gratitude and frustration. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of collapse, but Shiro wasn't letting him fall. It was embarrassing to have to be saved, but he couldn't say it didn't feel good.

"Don't mention it," Shiro replied, her voice strained but unyielding. "Just don't slow me down." There was a teasing edge to her words, but Guldrin could hear the strain in her breath.

And then, to his horror, she gave him a small smirk and started running again, the sway of her hips clearly meant to irritate him.

"Damn minx," Guldrin muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the pain. "Puberty sucks…" His words came out a little more breathlessly than he intended, and he cursed the way his body was betraying him, again. His pants were starting to feel a little tight, and it wasn't helping the situation in the slightest.

But there was no time for distractions. He had a hill to climb, a sandbag to carry, and an Alisa who would never, ever let him hear the end of it if he didn't finish. 

At least the view was pleasant.

So, with a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the ache in his muscles, and began to climb again.

The drills didn't stop there. 

After the sandbags, there were squat jumps, each one sending a jolt of pain through his knees and back. 

There were push-ups that felt like they were cracking his spine in half. 

And then, just to keep things interesting, Alisa introduced a bizarre exercise where they had to balance on one leg while holding weights above their heads.

Guldrin swore he'd never felt more ridiculous in his entire life, but Alisa was watching them with hawk-like focus, and the moment he let his concentration slip, her sharp voice rang out.

"Guldrin! Focus on your core! Your legs are wobbly, and if you fall, I'll have you doing push-ups until your arms fall off!"

"My damn legs are wobbly because you have me in a half iron chair holding a weight over my head!" He shouted as he tensed up and stabilized himself.

It was the same with Shiro. 

Alisa was a relentless taskmaster, correcting their form and increasing the intensity at every turn. No matter how badly they struggled, no matter how much they wanted to stop, Alisa wouldn't let up.

And then came the weightlifting. 

The garage was their next Hellscapes, an improvised gym with barbells, dumbbells, and resistance bands scattered haphazardly around the space. The added gravity made every single lift feel like they were attempting to hoist entire mountains. 

The strain was unbearable. Guldrin's arms felt like they were being torn apart as he tried to complete a deadlift. The weight seemed to mock him, its mass pushing him to the brink of exhaustion.

Thank you, Dom, for having a makeshift gym inside the shop, or screw you? 

Either way, they had a gym to use and Alisa planned to put it to good use.

"Focus on your breathing!" Alisa barked from behind him, her voice just as sharp as before. "You're not going to get anywhere if you pass out halfway through!"

Shiro, for her part, was powering through with all the determination she could muster. Her gritted teeth and clenched fists showed just how hard she was pushing herself. But even she couldn't hide the occasional grimace as the weight pushed her beyond her limits.

This was a fire that would either break them, or forge them into something unstoppable. If they kept this training up, they would easily surpass their original selves.

"Demon! She's a demon in the disguise of an android!" Shiro growled, grinding her foot into the floor, her frustration practically crackling in the air. 

It was becoming a familiar occurrence with Alisa and her relentless training methods, but no amount of complaining seemed to make a dent in the unyielding drills that continued to push them past their limits.

Guldrin, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh. 

There was something oddly nostalgic about it. 

The way Alisa barked orders and pushed them harder and harder, the unrelenting grind—it reminded him of when his mother figure, 'The Boss' had taught him back in his past life. 

Sure, the methods were brutal, but there was something in the pain and exhaustion that felt oddly familiar, and dare he admit, even comforting. It was a strange sensation, but it was far from unpleasant.

"Demon or not, it's effective, right?" he said, wiping the sweat from his brow and glancing over at Shiro, who was glaring at the ground like it had personally offended her.

Shiro muttered something under her breath that was half a curse and half a plea for mercy, but Guldrin could tell that even she, despite her frustration, was starting to feel the small victories building up, even if it was just the satisfaction of surviving each drill.

As the day wore on, the drills became even more brutal. 

The first few rounds had been almost manageable, or at least in the realm of possible, but Alisa's sadistic streak was just warming up. 

The sweat that soaked their clothes now was from the obnoxious exertion, and from the sheer intensity of it all.

"Alright, time for a real challenge," Alisa called out, her voice perky as ever, as she slapped a heavy weighted vest into Guldrin's hands. "You're going to sprint with these on. I expect nothing less than your absolute best effort. I highly doubt you will finish, but do your best."

Guldrin took the vest reluctantly. 

It was a monster of a thing, made of thick, heavy materials that seemed to increase in weight the longer he looked at it. "What, are you trying to kill us?" he muttered, though it was hard to tell if the question was more in exasperation or in genuine concern.

Alisa didn't answer. Instead, she just grinned, and then, like a cruel circus ringmaster, she started the timer. "Go!"

Without warning, Guldrin started running, each step more agonizing than the last as the weighted vest seemed to drag him down, forcing his legs to burn in protest. 

Shiro was already a few steps ahead, pushing herself to keep pace with the seemingly invincible android, her eyes focused and determined. 

She had always been tough, but today? Today, Alisa was going to make sure she found every ounce of her endurance, even if it killed her.

It didn't take long for the weight to begin taking its toll. 

Each breath felt like a struggle to get enough air into his lungs. 

Guldrin's legs felt like they were filled with cement. He pushed himself harder, but it was as though the vest was a force of nature itself, just there to break his spirit and leave him gasping for mercy.

"You call that effort?" Alisa shouted from behind, her tone dripping with mockery. "C'mon, Guldrin, I know you've got more in you than that! Faster! Faster!"

Even though she was scolding them, she was greatly pleased with their efforts.

Shiro and Guldrin had surprised her with their work ethic, but that wasn't going to stop her from pushing them even harder.

He shot a look at her over his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but there was no time to respond. 

The drills kept going, and Guldrin's body felt as though it were on the verge of crumbling under the pressure. He collapsed onto the grass when he finally couldn't take another step, wheezing like a broken engine.

"Get up!" Alisa commanded, somehow sounding more enthusiastic than when he had been running. "You've got more in you! I'm not finished with you yet!"

Under the exhaustion, it was the relentless voice of Alisa, still pushing and pushing, never letting up, always demanding more, that crushed him in his soul. 

For a brief moment, he considered staying down. 

Maybe playing dead for a few minutes, hoping she would just take pity on him and let him rest. But no, that wasn't going to happen.

Guldrin grimaced and, with great effort, rolled over onto his knees. His muscles screamed in protest as he got back to his feet, feeling the weight of the vest shift as he readied himself for the next round of torture.

Shiro, too, had collapsed, though she wasn't as vocal about it. 

The way she silently lay there, hands splayed out beside her, her face flushed with effort, told him everything he needed to know. She was just as tired, just as pushed to her limits.

The difference was that she was still on her feet, still pushing forward, while he had collapsed first.

Her eyes met his for a split second, and there was something between them, a shared understanding of just how brutal Alisa's training had become. 

But even in the heat of their exhaustion, there was a flicker of humor in the air. Guldrin couldn't help but crack a grin, despite the sheer fatigue running through his body.

"Next time," Shiro said between breaths, her voice strained, "let the zombies take us. It might be less painful than this."

Zombies. 

The word rang in the air, and for a brief moment, Alisa looked confused. 

She had heard a lot of strange things from them, but something about the way Shiro had said it made Alisa pause for just a fraction of a second. 

It was as though the words carried more weight than they should have, but in that strange, clinical android way, Alisa quickly brushed it aside. 

She wasn't sure what was behind the comment, but as always, she was laser-focused on one thing: their training.

But Shiro's words stuck with Alisa longer than she realized. 

There was something about the tone, something about the way the phrase was delivered, that made her question if Shiro wasn't just joking. 

There was a hint of something real there, something more than playful. Did Shiro know something about the world that Alisa didn't? 

The whole comment about zombies didn't fit, but Alisa's attention was still firmly on the present, on the drills, on their progress. Whatever the implications were, it didn't matter at the moment, but she filed it away for later consideration.

But before Alisa could think more on it, she heard a faint tang from the surveillance system connected to the bugs Guldrin gave Letty. 

The little bug that Guldrin had slipped onto Letty earlier was still in play. 

She had been keeping an eye on it all day, monitoring its progress. 

So far, nothing particularly alarming had happened. 

Letty had spent most of the day doing mundane things: stopping at a gun range to practice her aim, grabbing a quick bite to eat at a couple of restaurants, and even taking a few photos of things that caught her eye. 

There was nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary. 

But the bug was still there, sending its data back to Alisa in real-time, an unnoticed link to something that might become important later.

Alisa's expression, or the closest approximation of one, showed a hint of confusion.

Mia had been MIA since the crack of dawn, and while that wasn't exactly out of character, it was still a bit unusual. Summer had fully settled in, the air thick with heat, and the break from homeschooling had left everyone with a bit of a sense of freedom, freedom that Mia, being the responsible yet quietly rebellious soul she was, had decided to indulge in. 

She was probably off somewhere having a rare day for herself, and honestly, who could blame her? In a world like this, a little escape from the chaos could feel like a life-saving breath of fresh air.

But while Mia was off doing whatever it was she was up to, Alisa, the ever-watchful and perpetually efficient android, had kept the pressure on Guldrin and Shiro. 

They'd been working through their endless drills, pushing past their limits, and even though they were exhausted, they hadn't been allowed a single moment of respite. 

Alisa, of course, was a multitasking master, and while she worked them into the ground with the same precision and intensity she had honed over countless years, she never once turned her attention away from her other responsibilities.

The beauty of being an advanced android, besides the obvious perks of being able to bench press a car if the need arose, was that Alisa could juggle multiple tasks at once with ease. 

There was always something else lurking in the background, a task that required her attention. And right now, that task was watching the surveillance feeds she'd set up earlier in the day.

Guldrin and Shiro, meanwhile, were entering the realm of exhaustion. Their limbs screamed for mercy, their lungs burned with every shallow breath, and yet, there was an odd satisfaction in the struggle. 

There was a deep, primal kind of satisfaction in knowing you were pushing yourself to the edge, that you could still take the next step, no matter how painful. But as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with streaks of red and purple, that satisfaction was quickly being overshadowed by sheer fatigue. 

Sleep was no longer a dream, it was a desperate need.

Just as the first flickers of hope for rest began to surface, a sound cut through the air, the unmistakable screech of the garage doors opening. Guldrin's heart sank; he knew what that meant.

In strolled Revy, the mercenary who had somehow wormed her way into their lives like an annoying but strangely endearing thorn. Her presence was one of those things that always left everyone on edge, and today, it was no different.\

Where she had gone over the day?

No one knew, nor would they ask. 

With her signature cocky grin stretched across her face, she looked entirely too pleased with herself, like she'd just pulled off the greatest heist of the century.

"Hey, you two look like you just got put through a meat grinder," she observed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She leaned casually against the door frame, hands on her hips, like she was enjoying the view much more than she should.

Guldrin groaned, his body feeling like it was being held together by sheer willpower. "We feel worse," he muttered, rubbing his aching shoulders as if trying to dislodge the pain that had settled deep in his muscles.

Shiro, who was too far gone to bother with pleasantries, gave Revy a look that could only be described as a mixture of annoyance and pure exhaustion. "What do you want, Revy?" she snapped, her voice barely more than a rasp. The mercenary had this way of showing up at the worst possible moments, like a plague of cockroaches that you couldn't quite get rid of.

Revy clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "Tsk, tsk. That's no way to talk to your beloved big sister-in-law."

Shiro's eye twitched violently. "Big... sister..." she said, her voice filled with so much sarcasm it practically oozed out of his pores. "Revy."

The way Shiro said her name, it was like she was physically being tortured by the very act of acknowledging her presence. But for Revy, it was a victory. A small one, but a victory nonetheless. 

Hearing Shiro refer to her as 'Big Sister Revy' felt like she had won a gold medal in the Olympics of annoyance. There was a gleam in her eyes, one that told anyone with a lick of sense that she was enjoying this far too much.

But before things could spiral into another one of their usual back-and-forths, Alisa, being the efficient multitasker that she was, finally decided to intervene. It wasn't that she was invested in the petty squabbles between Revy and the others, but she did have more pressing matters to attend to.

"Little master, it looks like you were right to place bugs on the Mistress," Alisa said, her tone almost uncharacteristically serious. "Take a look at this."

Guldrin's exhaustion disappeared in an instant, replaced by an immediate surge of focus. He straightened, wiping the sweat off his brow, and his eyes darted to the tablet that Alisa was holding. The scene on the screen wasn't what he'd expected, and it immediately snapped him out of his fatigue-fueled stupor.

On the feed was Letty, his adopted mom, his rock, moving through what looked like an underground parking lot. But this wasn't any simple parking lot. 

No, this place had an air about it, a sense of danger that practically seeped from the walls. The lot was lined with high-performance cars, cars that practically screamed street racing, with all the connotations that came with it.

And the people? 

The men milling around the place looked like they were cut from the same cloth as the kind of shady figures you'd find in a seedy alleyway, all tattoos and hard stares, scantily dressed bombshells rubbing up on cars and people, but Letty didn't flinch as she moved through them, her body language oozing confidence. 

This was no leisurely stroll; Letty was there for business, and she wasn't about to be intimidated by the group of shady characters who were clearly sizing her up.

Then the feed zoomed in on one of the men, a beefy guy with tattoos snaking down his neck like a warning, who decided to get a little too hands-on with Letty. Guldrin watched, wide-eyed, as the man attempted to frisk her. But he barely got his hands on her before Letty, with the speed and precision of someone who had been through more than her fair share of rough situations, slammed a knee straight into his groin. 

The impact was so violent that the guy folded in on himself like a paper crane, dropping like a ton of bricks.

Immediately, a handful of men nearby reached for their guns, clicking off safeties and drawing them with practiced speed. The air was thick with tension, and for a second, it seemed like a fight was about to break out. 

But Letty? 

She didn't even blink. 

There wasn't so much as a flicker of fear in her eyes. She stood her ground, her gaze locked onto the men who had just drawn their weapons, her posture radiating defiance. It was like she was daring them to make the first move, challenging them to do something, anything.

Revy, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, raised an eyebrow in approval. "Damn," she muttered. "That girl's got balls of steel. Told you I could get along with your adoptive mother… Bad Ass."

Guldrin could only watch, impressed and a little concerned. He had seen Letty do some amazing things before, but this was next-level. It was one thing to fight to protect yourself; it was another to walk into a pit of wolves, knowing exactly how to take control of the situation without breaking a sweat.

'Seems mom has been hiding herself from us.' Guldrin felt the Letty they had seen was just a shadow of this Letty, but she is still Mom, that is all that matters, truthfully.

Alisa, who had been keeping a close eye on everything, added with an almost clinical detachment, "She's holding her own… for now. The probability of something going wrong is about fifty percent, maybe less, after that decisive strike to the man's family jewels. His probability of having kids, zero percent."

"Are we going to do something about this?" Shiro asked, still sounding like she was barely holding it together from the training. She didn't like the idea of Letty being in danger, but right now, she wasn't sure she had the energy to even think about getting involved.

Guldrin, his body still aching from the drills, clenched his fists. "No. Mom's got this." He didn't know how, but he believed it. Letty could handle herself, she always did. "For now, we watch, it isn't like Mom is going to lose a race. That would be… Like Chuck Norris losing to amateurs."

Turning back to the live feed, they all gathered around and watched to see how things played out.

For a split second, the air in the underground lot felt like it might ignite. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, hands hovering too close to triggers, eyes locked in silent threats, and the heavy, charged silence of men trying to decide whether they were about to shoot first or wait for an excuse.

Then, laughter rang out, sharp and cocky, slicing through the moment like a well-placed drift through a tight corner.

The man responsible strutted forward with the kind of swagger that made it clear he thought he owned the world, or at least this little chunk of it. 

His shirt, an eye-watering display of bright gold and black patterns, clashed horribly with the too-tight snakeskin pants he had somehow decided were a good idea. A gold chain with a small cross rested on his chest, and his buzz-cut hair gleamed under the harsh lights like it had been freshly shaved that morning.

Letty barely spared him a glance, her stance unshaken, but he eyed her with amusement, taking in the still-groaning man on the ground.

"Damn, chica," he said, his grin widening as he chuckled. "You got some guts."

He turned to the gathered crowd, flashing a smirk that reeked of self-importance. "Relax, everybody. She's just making sure we know she ain't no pushover."

Some of the men exchanged wary glances, but let their hands drift away from their weapons. The threat had been acknowledged. Letty had made her point.

Before she could shake him off, the man threw a casual arm around her shoulders, as if they were old friends. The sheer audacity of it almost made Letty roll her eyes, but she held back, barely. 

She didn't shove him off, not yet. But he'd get exactly one chance before she made him regret it.

He led her toward the center of the lot, where the crowd thickened, racers and their crews gathered around in anticipation.

"Alright, listen up," he called out, his voice carrying easily over the murmurs. "You all came here for one reason. You wanna work for Braga? You gotta prove you're worth the gas you burn."

At the mention of the name, the atmosphere shifted. Murmurs turned to hushed whispers, the weight of the name settling over the lot.

Braga. A name that carried respect, fear, and opportunity all in one.

The man continued, unfazed.

"Here's how it goes down. You wanna be part of the crew? You gotta race." He let the word hang in the air for a moment before he continued. "No shortcuts. No blocking traffic. No little games to make it easier for yourself. And definitely no cops keeping things clean and tidy."

He glanced around, eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. "You win? You move on. You lose?" He shrugged, his grin sharpening. "Well, let's just say we don't do second chances."

That got a reaction. A few racers exchanged uneasy looks. Others squared their shoulders, the challenge fueling their egos.

One guy in the back, clearly thinking he was smarter than the rest, raised his voice. "Yeah, but who's running interference? Cops ain't just gonna let us tear up the streets."

Silence.

Then laughter, loud, mocking, the kind that made it clear the guy had just outed himself as the dumbest person in the lot.

The leader turned to him, shaking his head in exaggerated pity. "That's the point, pendejo." He gestured to the crowd. "No interference. No blockades. No one running cover for you." 

His grin widened. "We need to see how you handle the heat. How you keep your cool when shit hits the fan. You can't handle a few sirens?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to sound more threatening. "Then you sure as hell ain't ready for Braga's business."

The poor idiot who had asked the question shrank back slightly, but the message had been received loud and clear.

Letty, standing at the edge of it all, smirked.

"Sounds like my kinda race."

Her voice carried just enough to be heard, and the leader turned to her, his grin widening in approval.

"Now that's what I like to hear," he said. He stepped back, clapping his hands together. "Alright then! We got ourselves a real one… Let's see if she can back up her words."

Excitement rippled through the lot, tension shifting into anticipation. Racers were already sizing each other up, whispers of past wins and losses bouncing between them.

Letty barely paid attention. Her focus was already on the race. 

She didn't just want to win, she needed to. If Braga's crew was testing for the best, then she was damn sure she was going to prove she belonged at the top.

The crowd began to move, shifting toward the far end of the lot, where a row of cars sat waiting like predators ready to pounce. 

Engines revved, the low rumble sending vibrations through the concrete floor.

Letty took a step forward, but the leader stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"One more thing, chica," he said, amusement still lacing his tone. "Hope you're ready for a real race."

Letty shot him a look.

"If it ain't real," she said, "it ain't worth my time."

The grin that spread across his face was full of something between amusement and respect.

"Well then," he said, stepping back and gesturing toward the cars. "Let's see what you got."

Letty didn't need to be told twice.

She walked forward, rolling her shoulders as she eyed the lineup. Some of the cars were pure muscle, built for straight-line speed. Others were sleek imports, tuned for handling and acceleration.

She had seen enough races to know that it wouldn't come down to horsepower. It never did.

It was about the driver.

And Letty?

She was about to remind everyone in that lot exactly what kind of driver she was; and find Braga to bring Dom home to his family.

(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)

(Longer chapter, hope you enjoyed.)