Chapter 294: Next Stop, New York
Following Cipher's orders, the intruders retreated in an orderly fashion, but Ron didn't dare let his guard down, continuing to shift his position in the smoke.
The feint tactic was nothing new; even street thugs used it, let alone a mysterious hacker terrorist organization like this.
Even after the building went completely silent, he didn't dare fully relax. Only when he faintly heard the sirens of reinforcements did Ron finally close his eyes and pass out cold...
...until someone shook him awake.
"Hey Ron, you alright?" Ron opened his eyes to see Hobbs's anxious face staring down at him.
"I've been better," Ron said, realizing he'd been lying on the floor the whole time. He stood up and stretched, feeling his joints pop as he confirmed nothing was broken.
"How bad is the damage?"
"Besides Letty sitting there in shock after seeing Toretto, we didn't lose anyone," Tej said, gesturing toward Letty. "But they stole the God's Eye system."
"No casualties? Then why do I keep hearing ambulances?" Ron asked, confused.
"The ambulances are for the wounded at the CIA installation. You didn't think the CIA guards just opened the door and let Cipher waltz in, did you?"
"How the hell else did they get in?"
Ron was pissed. He'd figured that a base built by Mr. Nobody wouldn't be Fort Knox, but at least it would provide a secure working environment.
Instead, they couldn't even guarantee basic security. The attack came without any warning; Ron was completely blindsided and had to fight off the intruders while dizzy as hell from those sonic disruptors.
Honestly, if it weren't for that damn Springsteen ringtone giving him the idea, his entire team would've been wiped out.
"Wait, Ron, I think you've got the wrong idea about Mr. Nobody," Ramsey suddenly interrupted after hearing Ron's complaint.
"Oh yeah? Enlighten me," Ron raised an eyebrow. "This is a top-secret CIA facility, monitored by multiple satellites. Nobody could infiltrate without triggering alarms. Do they have some kind of Star Trek transporter that can beam armed operatives anywhere on Earth without warning? If that's the case, they wouldn't need to fight over God's Eye—they could just take over the planet. Hell, I'd be the first one bowing down to Queen Cipher."
He'd kneel before her, sure—but only after she got on her knees first.
"No, I mean they might've infiltrated the base using a ghost plane."
Ron scoffed. "I thought planes that can't be tracked by satellites were just urban legends."
"Not exactly," Mr. Nobody said, finally joining the conversation after dealing with his wounded personnel. "While satellite and radar networks cover the entire globe, they don't constantly monitor every single location.
Instead, each monitoring unit scans its assigned area in repeated patterns, like ocean currents following their own rhythms. If someone figured out these patterns, they could move freely through the blind spots of all radars and satellites, making them virtually invisible."
"That's just theory," Ron shot back, glaring at Mr. Nobody. He wasn't about to accept such a weak excuse. "In reality, nobody could possibly know the schedules of every satellite and radar system on Earth—that's classified military intel.
If someone had that capability, they'd be highly valued by any intelligence agency. They wouldn't need to be flying around in ghost planes."
"What if this person also has elite hacking skills and can alter the monitoring patterns of ground surveillance systems in real-time? You know how pathetic the Department of Defense's firewall is? Even the nerdy grad students at MIT can hijack military reconnaissance satellites to photograph Victoria's Secret models sunbathing."
Ron suddenly went quiet. He couldn't argue with that, because he actually knew an MIT researcher who did exactly that.
The guy not only regularly hijacked military recon satellites to photograph supermodels, but he'd also crashed NASA's Mars rover into a ditch.
So yeah, an aircraft operating in surveillance blind spots the whole time? Not entirely impossible.
"Alright, if all that's true, it's water under the bridge. The real question is: where are they headed next?"
"New York!"
Ron had barely finished asking when Deckard Shaw, who'd been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke up, startling him. "New York? What makes you so sure?"
"Because of this." Deckard Shaw held up a small slip of paper. Ron quickly grabbed it, unfolded it, and recognized Toretto's handwriting.
"Dom slipped this to me when nobody was looking, right when Cipher and her team stormed in."
Ron's eyes lit up as he read the note, surprised at how things were playing out. However, his expression turned strange when he saw a particular name.
"What's wrong? Is there a problem with Toretto's plan?" Deckard Shaw asked with concern.
Besides Ron, who else here wanted Cipher dead more than him? Nobody. He didn't want anything screwing up the plan.
"Shaw, is Victoria Winslow your mother?"
"Yeah," Deckard Shaw looked confused by the sudden question, but answered honestly. "Winslow was her maiden name. She went back to it after my father died. Why do you ask?"
"So if... hypothetically speaking, your mother remarried, would you and Owen want to change your last names?" Ron chose his words carefully. "For example, how would you feel about the surname Dufresne?"
"Dufresne? That name sounds familiar," Deckard Shaw suddenly looked suspicious. "Wait, what are you getting at? Why the hell would Owen and I change our names?!"
"Sounds like you and your mom haven't talked in a while," Ron said, looking at Shaw with sympathy. "Didn't you know she's got a new boyfriend? They're getting married sometime next year. His name is Andy Dufresne—he's my intelligence chief.
We're pretty tight, practically brothers. You see, if your stepdad and I are like brothers, and your mom is my brother's fiancée, then we're... basically family, right? Maybe you should start calling me Uncle Ron?"
...
New York. The Brooklyn Bridge. The world's first steel suspension bridge was considered an engineering marvel when it was completed, hailed as one of the seven groundbreaking architectural achievements of the Industrial Revolution.
And right now, Ron was driving across it.
"Hey! I don't understand why we're stuck in the cargo hold with these stinking fish, while you get to cruise around in your sports car!"
Roman's complaining voice crackled through the walkie-talkie next to Ron.
Not far behind his vehicle, in a seafood delivery truck, lay the entire Toretto crew, along with Hobbs and Deckard Shaw.
"What can I say? God's Eye got stolen. Cipher has all your personal information and can track your location anytime through street cameras or cell phone signals. My name just happens to not be in that database."
"At least we could've found a cleaner vehicle, like a furniture truck or a beer delivery truck."
"Please. I don't want to bring a bunch of drunks on a mission. If this truck was full of Budweiser, I guarantee there wouldn't be a single bottle left by the time we arrived."
Ron had always questioned the combat abilities of Toretto's crew, but he had zero doubts about their drinking capacity. He didn't want them all passed out before the operation even started.
"Ron," Hobbs's muffled voice came through the walkie-talkie. "Do you know who Toretto's next target is?"
Due to space constraints, Toretto's note could only briefly tell Ron where they'd been, where they were going next, and why he was doing this.
The target wasn't written down—probably because Toretto himself didn't know what the objective was before each mission.
As an outsider who'd been coerced onto the team, Toretto's intel was extremely limited.
"Of course I know. It's gotta be Russian diplomats."
"Why?"
"Simple. If they're planning something big, they'll need serious firepower. Hitting US military arsenals isn't realistic, because they don't know which warehouses actually have what they need.
Thanks to those corrupt generals at the Pentagon, every armory's inventory list is complete fiction—only God knows what's really inside. So if they want weapons, they'll definitely go through the Russians."
The Brooklyn Bridge was almost behind them. Ron signaled to the truck following him. The two vehicles drove one after the other into a cold storage facility not far from the bridge.
"Bang!"
Ron opened the warehouse door, and several guys reeking of fish stumbled out from the cargo hold.
"I swear, I'm never eating tuna again in my life!"
"No problem. I'll hold you to that. When this mission's over and we throw a victory party, I'll automatically take you off the guest list. I'm planning a sushi feast anyway."
"Hey, where the hell did you bring us?" Roman, seeing that complaining wasn't getting him anywhere, immediately started nitpicking from another angle. "We're supposed to be facing the most dangerous terrorists. You brought us here—are you planning to have us fight them with frozen fish sticks?"
"Of course not," Ron nodded to a worker nearby, who immediately waved and turned to lead the way.
"Actually, this is another secret CIA facility, one that hasn't been compromised yet. It's also one of the CIA's largest weapons caches in New York."
The cold storage worker led them to an inconspicuous small door, opened a panel, and punched in several numbers on a keypad.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!"
After three beeps, the small door didn't open—instead, the entire wall split apart from the column beside it, revealing a high-tech interior that looked like something out of a spy movie.
"Holy shit!" Roman couldn't help but curse. "Is this freaking Disneyland?!"
Inside the secret facility, various confiscated luxury vehicles were parked, including supercars they'd only seen on TV or in magazines.
Even for regular people, this would be enough to make their whole day, but for these car enthusiasts who'd spent their lives behind the wheel, it was like striking gold.
The appeal was comparable to a hundred swimsuit models waving at you from a pool party.
"This is the CIA's garage, nicknamed the Toy Store," Hobbs said, seeing Deckard Shaw's confused expression. He happily threw an arm around his shoulder. "Just tell your Uncle Hobbs which ride you like, and I'll make sure you get the keys."
Everyone in the group knew about Deckard Shaw's mother and Andy, and he'd been getting roasted about it the entire trip, especially by Hobbs, who had an old grudge against him.
Every chance he got, it was "your dad and me," playing the elder card to the max.
But he wasn't lying—a fact Ron could confirm, since Hobbs and Andy had worked together on multiple occasions.
"Alright, alright, enough screwing around. Let's get to work," Ron said, patting Hobbs on the shoulder and turning to address the group. "These are all vehicles seized from drug lords and smugglers along the East Coast. Mr. Nobody promised me that as long as you can find Dom, you can pick whatever you want from here and modify it however you like.
But there's only one condition: you gotta be fast. I don't think Cipher has the patience to wait around until we're all ready before making her move."
"What's this?" Tej walked over to a tracked vehicle that looked like a mini tank. "Don't tell me this was also seized from drug dealers?"
Ron glanced at it. "That's on loan from the US Army. It's a prototype with 750 horsepower and a 6.6-liter V8 engine. It's also got an M153 remote weapon station, but I think the firepower's a bit weak. Would be better with an anti-tank missile launcher. Think you can retrofit it?"
Mr. Nobody's assistant shouted in protest, "Where the hell are we supposed to find anti-tank missiles on such short notice?!"
"Don't worry about the hardware—I already put in an order. Should be arriving any minute now." Ron's phone rang right on cue as he finished speaking.
(End of Chapter)
[+500 Power Stones = +2 Extra Chapter]
[+10 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]
If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a Review!
P*atreon/Soulforger (80+ advanced chapters)
Buy me coffee - ko-fi*com/soulforger01