Chapter 302: Toretto's Family BBQ
Los Angeles, in a small house next to Toretto's auto repair shop, Ron brought his crew to participate in the family's cookout for the first time.
Toretto's parties were always a relaxed American-style BBQ, but with the addition of Ron and his team, the atmosphere started to take on an interesting twist.
The traditional smoked brisket was retained, but it was now Ron's special recipe—Cooper family style—which Ron had personally marinated and slow-cooked all night.
The original chicken wings were joined by various grilled specialties that Ron's people had brought, and the spread had expanded considerably. However, Ron made sure to include some adventurous options, claiming they had special health benefits. Ron didn't know if it was true, but he was sure everyone's late-night activities would be a little more energetic than usual tonight.
"Good Lord, what is this? Weren't we supposed to be having a barbecue? Why am I seeing rabbit food here? Are you sure this isn't for livestock? I swear, I won't eat a single bite."
Roman stared in horror at the grilled vegetables on the platter. He hated vegetables, no matter what form they took, and most people present shared this sentiment. Frank Moses had already decided not to touch them during the meal.
"I heard from Joe that you've got yourself a much younger girlfriend, is that right?" One of Ron's older operatives had unknowingly appeared behind Frank.
"Yes, her name is Sarah. She's a wonderful woman."
"Then I suggest you eat more of these vegetables, because they have restorative effects on certain functions that tend to decline with age."
Since joining Ron's organization, Frank had gotten to know many of the veteran operatives at the retirement facility, and naturally noticed how vibrant and satisfied they all seemed with their personal lives.
So, maybe eating some vegetables wouldn't be so bad?
Frank reached for the grilled asparagus that had been prepared. Roman swallowed hard and quietly reached out his hand as well, but it was stopped halfway by a large hand.
Roman turned around to see Ron's half-amused face. "Didn't you just say all this rabbit food was for livestock?"
"Huh? Did I say that?" Roman started to backpedal. Whether it was because of his natural confidence or his thick skin, he didn't blush at all.
"You must have misheard, or someone else said that and you thought it was me. I've always loved eating green vegetables," Roman said, as if afraid Ron would stop him. He quickly grabbed several skewers of grilled vegetables from the platter with his other hand, not caring that they were hot, and stuffed them into his mouth. "Delicious!"
"Okay, if you like them, that's great. I was going to tell you that if you really don't like vegetables, these specialty items have the same effect. They're made from... well, certain animal parts. If you don't mind the unique flavor, they're a rare delicacy for meat lovers."
"Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"I thought you were doing just fine without any supplementation." Ron shrugged.
Roman was about to prove his unlimited stamina when Toretto pulled him over to the table. "You ate the first bite of food, so today you'll say grace. Everyone, come over here, let's pray together and get ready to eat!"
In the courtyard, people gathered around the table from all corners. The table, which was originally big enough for everyone with room to spare, was now packed.
The overflow crew simply stood to the side, all holding hands and forming a circle around the table.
Roman improvised: "Thank God for the V8 engines and carbon fiber bodies we've been blessed with. We'll definitely use them to build even better rides and hope to see you real soon!"
"What kind of prayer was that?" O'Connor expressed his dissatisfaction with Roman's improvisation.
"Go eat your food!" Roman picked up a skewer and shoved it toward O'Connor, then picked up one of the specialty items and took a big bite in defiance. Instantly, his mouth was filled with an intense, gamey taste.
Ugh! This is worse than the vegetables!
Roman looked up, feeling betrayed, at Ron, only to see him triumphantly flashing a peace sign. He immediately realized he'd been played.
Well, actually, Ron hadn't meant to trick him at all; he just wanted to see if Roman could handle the taste. After all, even among adventurous eaters, there are plenty of people who can't handle such strong flavors.
As it turned out, Roman indeed couldn't.
But just as Ron thought Roman would spit out the meat and eat something more normal, Roman suddenly gulped down a large mouthful of beer, forcing the meat down, then took another big bite like he was taking medicine, washing it down with more beer.
Ron was stunned.
How determined must he be to use such a method?
"Ron, Ron," Toretto waved his hand in front of Ron's face. "Are you listening?"
"What is it?" Ron snapped out of his daze.
"Will Deckard bring my son back?" Toretto asked hopefully.
"Of course. I told you before, Deckard Shaw isn't the cold-blooded killer you think he is. But Owen is—he was completely corrupted by his reckless brother."
Ron took a sip of beer to hydrate and continued, "Actually, Deckard's already accepted a job offer from me, on the condition that he brings his brother along. I don't mind, as long as that troublemaker Owen doesn't cause any more problems, I'm happy to have a heavy hitter as an operator."
"But I think you're playing with fire." Hobbs also came over with a bottle of beer, clinked glasses with the two of them, took a sip, and joined the conversation.
"These brothers both come from Britain's most elite special forces unit. They've got that restless blood in their veins. If you can't keep them in check, they'll definitely cause even bigger problems. How about giving one to me?"
Hobbs's first half sounded reasonable, but the last sentence revealed his true intentions, and the "I'm looking out for you" vibe he'd created vanished instantly.
"That's my problem to deal with," Ron said irritably, tossing his empty bottle in the recycling bin and cracking open a fresh beer. "Instead of worrying about my situation, you should be concerned about Cipher's whereabouts.
There was no sign of Cipher on the plane that the Shaw brothers hit, nor on the other two ghost flights that were brought down by SAMs. So where did this woman disappear to? Is it really like Owen said, 'she's a ghost, and you only see her when she wants to be seen'?"
"I don't know!" Hobbs was completely stumped. "The Coast Guard already tested the bodies in the wreckage, and none of them were female. What's even weirder is that none of the recovered bodies have any DNA or fingerprints in the FBI database—it's like they appeared out of thin air."
"Nobody dies without leaving a trace. If you really can't find anything, then I think you should seriously investigate the mole within the organization. See who's been working with Cipher to scrub the identities of her operatives,"
Ron commented sharply.
Hobbs nodded in agreement, though he felt uneasy. New situations were constantly emerging, and despite having seen various scenarios play out, many had already occurred unexpectedly, yet he had no leads whatsoever.
Ron decided to keep a low profile for a while. If he couldn't take them on, he could at least avoid them, right?
Don't be fooled by Ron's incredibly brave performances in various crises into thinking he's some tough, gung-ho operator who only knows how to fight head-on. In fact, Ron's pretty cautious—survival is his top priority at all times.
All his seemingly heroic actions have one fundamental reason: he has contingencies, which allows him to act so boldly.
Take this operation in Russia, for example. He never revealed his biggest ace in the hole: Peggy's hacking skills. While Peggy isn't guaranteed to be better than Cipher, she could at least interfere with Cipher's plan to drop a nuke on Ron's head.
Even in the moment when he was almost engulfed by incendiary devices, Ron wasn't afraid.
So what if he got burned beyond recognition? Ron had connections. No matter how severe his injuries, he had ways to recover. He'd learned long ago that having the right people in your corner was invaluable.
However, this network was too valuable, and no one except Ron and a few trusted contacts knew about it.
Ron, Toretto, and Hobbs chatted casually, while Toretto kept glancing toward the street. Finally, the person he was waiting for appeared.
Deckard Shaw, carrying a baby carrier like a delivery guy, presented it to Toretto. "Here. Promise fulfilled."
"Thank you, Shaw. I really don't know what I would have done without you." Toretto gratefully took the carrier, carefully holding the baby as if he were the most precious treasure in the world.
This was the first time he had held his own son. After gazing at him for a long moment, he handed him to Letty. "Letty, look. This is our son."
"What are you going to name him?" Ron leaned closer, making faces at the baby as he asked.
"I'm going to name him Brian, in memory of Brian O'Connor. What do you think?" Toretto looked around for everyone's opinions.
Ron nodded approvingly. "Brian. That's a strong name. He'd be proud."
After naming the child, Toretto chatted with Deckard Shaw while holding the baby, while Hobbs approached again, but this time not about the child.
"Ron, I just had a bold idea. Instead of the FBI going to great lengths to investigate internally and constantly deploying agents to guard against Cipher, why don't we build an early warning system using technology like Cipher did?"
"You mean algorithms, not technology?" Ron was exasperated with this straightforward guy, but his idea was still somewhat interesting. Ron frowned. "But you have to understand that criminal behavior isn't a natural phenomenon—it's full of randomness and unpredictability. How would you even approach it?"
"I think we could take all the criminal files from the FBI over the years, create a database, and then use that as a model to predict potential crimes. When the program issues an alert, we could immediately deploy people to the location. That way, we wouldn't waste so much manpower on pointless patrols. What do you think, Ron? Is it feasible?"
Hobbs stared nervously at Ron. Ron thought for a while before replying, "Your idea reminds me of something I once heard: 'There's nothing new under the sun. Everything repeats itself in cycles.'
If we create a model to analyze and predict crimes, it might work, but I need to remind you that this level of algorithm development isn't something just anyone can handle. I don't think the brass will approve the funding."
"FUCK!" Hobbs's hopeful smile vanished instantly. "I thought we could just recruit some computer science talent from MIT or Stanford and build it."
"This requires genius-level work, Hobbs. Genius, you understand?" Ron shook his head, trying to dispel Hobbs's unrealistic notion, though the idea held a certain appeal for him too.
"Besides, buddy, it's probably a good thing we don't have this system. Think about it—if you actually built a machine like that, how terrifying would it be? It would monitor everyone in the country. Nothing could escape its notice. Even if you jaywalked after a few drinks, it would know. Seriously, do you want to live like that?"
"Of course not! But I have to be prepared for Cipher's possible retaliation, right? I'm worried about my daughter. She's only eleven. If Cipher uses her to threaten me one day, maybe I'd make the same choice as Toretto."
Ron understood Hobbs's concerns, of course. Not everyone had enough resources to protect their loved ones.
"You can rest assured about that!"
Hobbs had barely finished speaking when he spotted Mr. Nobody outside the courtyard. "From today onwards, your daughter will have a senior operative providing 24/7 close protection. I'm very interested in the idea you just mentioned. With this 'machine,' we could save significant resources. Would you be willing to help me develop it?"
Mr. Nobody raised an eyebrow at Ron smugly. "The Agency has no shortage of talent or funding. This is entirely doable for us."
No shortage of money? Just you wait—I'll be auditing the CIA's black budget one of these days!
(End of Chapter)