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On the rooftop terrace of Galaxy Media's building, the evening air carried the intoxicating aroma of grilled lamb skewers mixed with cumin and exotic spices. The JND48 rehearsal space occupied the floor directly below, and the three friends had claimed the roof for what was becoming an increasingly raucous celebration.
"To Jake breaking 20 million followers worldwide! Cheers!" Alex Morrison raised his beer high, the amber liquid catching the last rays of sunset. His friend had become an overnight sensation, and Alex couldn't be prouder.
"To Fast and Furious hitting 500 million players!" Jake Harrison clinked his glass enthusiastically, beer sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Still can't believe we actually pulled it off."
"Hey, hey, don't forget about me!" Danny Reeves practically jumped from his seat, nearly knocking over the plate of skewers. "My girl group just passed three million fans! That's huge for a new group!"
"Dude, that's not even close to our numbers," Jake laughed, already reaching for the pitcher to refill everyone's drinks. "That's like comparing a go-kart to a Formula One car."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Danny grumbled good-naturedly. "But you two better help promote them. I need to hit 10 million followers before the year's out. My investors are breathing down my neck."
"Fine, fine. I'll have one of your girls join my streams," Jake offered with a mischievous grin that suggested he'd already thought this through. "Every night. We'll call it 'Midnight Motors with Jake and Friends.'"
"You wish! Although..." Danny stroked his chin thoughtfully, his business mind already spinning. "That's actually not a bad marketing idea. We could do a whole series. 'JND48 Learns to Drive Stick' or something."
"That title needs work," Alex laughed. "Come on, one more toast to all of us crushing our goals!"
"Hell yeah!" They clinked glasses with perhaps more force than necessary, beer foam erupting as they downed their drinks.
"Hey, Liu! These skewers are getting cold!" Danny called to their barbecue assistant, a young Galaxy Media intern who'd somehow gotten roped into playing chef for the evening. The kid quickly swapped out the plates with fresh, sizzling meat that made their mouths water.
"Nothing beats fresh off the grill," Danny said, already tearing into a lamb skewer with zero regard for dignity. Juice dripped down his chin as he made appreciative noises.
"Speaking of winning," Jake said between bites, gesturing with his half-eaten skewer, "Gravity's stock price doubled this week. That product placement was genius, man. Every time someone sees a Gravity car in the game, it's basically a rolling advertisement."
"Yeah, the buzz about our upcoming partnership probably helped too," Alex grabbed another skewer, savoring the perfectly charred edges. "But you won't believe the calls I've been getting. Every luxury car manufacturer wants to license our designs from Fast and Furious. My assistant's been screening calls all week."
"Any Italian brands?" Jake's eyes lit up with the kind of excitement usually reserved for Christmas morning.
"Lamborghini wants our Lambo and Bugatti designs. They're flying a whole team out next week for negotiations. Legal, design, marketing—the works."
"Holy shit, are you serious?" Jake nearly dropped his beer, his jaw hanging open. "Lamborghini is coming to YOU? That's... that's insane! Those guys are usually too proud to even return game developers' calls. They act like we should be grateful just to render their cars!"
"Times are changing, my friend," Alex said with satisfaction. "Though the Bugatti designs are off the table. Already promised Gravity we'd help them launch a limited edition by year's end. My dad would kill me if I backed out of that."
"Bro, you better save me one of those Bugattis!"
"Of course! Your money's as good as anyone's," Alex teased. "Maybe better, considering all those streaming donations you're raking in."
"Look at you, Mr. Billionaire, still trying to squeeze every penny out of your friends," Jake shook his head in mock disgust. "Capitalism at its finest! Next you'll be charging us for these beers."
"Hey, nobody ever complained about having too much money!" Alex defended himself with a laugh. "Besides, you think this rooftop barbecue pays for itself?"
They clinked glasses again, the mood light and celebratory, the city lights beginning to twinkle below them as dusk settled over the skyline.
One floor below, the JND48 trainees were suffering through their evening rehearsal, the hardwood floor unforgiving under their exhausted bodies.
"I'm dying," Mia Chen groaned, clutching her stomach after finishing a particularly grueling routine. Her crop top was soaked with sweat, and she could feel every muscle in her core screaming.
"This is torture!" Maya Chen, the group's leader, collapsed on the floor in a dramatic sprawl. Sweat dripped from her forehead, creating small puddles on the polished wood. "They're up there eating barbecue while we're down here starving. That smell is driving me absolutely crazy! It's like they're doing it on purpose!"
"I want barbecue, hot pot, fried chicken, pizza, burgers..." A slightly chubby trainee named Wendy jumped up dramatically, listing foods on her fingers like she was reciting poetry. Despite her curvy build, she moved with surprising grace—she just had some stubborn baby fat that refused to budge no matter how much she danced.
"This is evil!"
"I can't even remember what meat tastes like anymore!"
"I'd kill for just one skewer! Just one!"
"My kingdom for a french fry!"
The girls sprawled across the studio floor in various states of theatrical despair, united in their food envy. Being trainees meant strict diets—low salt, no oil, definitely no barbecue. They had to maintain their figures, keep their skin clear, and protect their voices. Dreams of stardom meant sacrificing their teenage appetites, but that didn't make the hunger any easier to bear.
But that smell... After an exhausting three-hour rehearsal, the aroma of grilled meat was pure, unadulterated torture. It was like the universe was personally taunting them.
"Wait," Wendy suddenly sat up, her nose twitching like a bloodhound catching a scent. "Is it getting stronger? It's like... like it's right outside the door. I swear, it feels like a plate of meat is literally floating toward us!"
"Girl, you're hallucinating from hunger," Mia laughed weakly. "Next you'll be seeing dancing lamb skewers."
"No, seriously! Listen!" Wendy insisted, pressing her ear to the floor.
The door burst open with a bang that made them all jump. Two dance instructors walked in carrying plates piled high with grilled skewers, the meat still sizzling and releasing tantalizing wisps of steam.
The studio fell dead silent. Everyone stared at Wendy in awe, their expressions a mix of shock and reverence. Her food-detection skills were apparently supernatural—a superpower born from months of dieting.
"Mr. Reeves says you can have some meat tonight," the lead instructor announced with a knowing smile. "But don't go crazy! This is a special treat, not a free-for-all. Everyone gets three skewers, no more."
"YESSSSS!" The exhausted trainees suddenly found reserves of energy they didn't know existed, mobbing the instructors like a pack of very polite but extremely hungry wolves.
"Three skewers?" someone protested. "That's barely enough to remember what meat tastes like!"
"Better than nothing!" another girl countered, already calculating how slowly she could eat to make the experience last.
Meanwhile, floors above, the celebration continued as the three friends polished off another round.
"You know what's crazy?" Alex said, leaning back in his chair. "Six months ago, we were just hoping Fast and Furious wouldn't flop. Now we've got Lamborghini knocking on our door."
"Life comes at you fast," Jake agreed. "No pun intended."
Since claiming the top spot on the charts, Fast and Furious hadn't budged an inch. Its player base kept growing exponentially, defying all industry predictions. Despite being a story-driven experience that could technically be "completed," the replay value was proving to be incredible. Players ran through every storyline branch, desperate to see every possible outcome. They experimented with every car, mastering the unique handling characteristics of each vehicle. They pushed the modification system to its limits, creating builds that the developers never imagined.
The game's 97 original vehicles alone provided months of content for car enthusiasts. The modification system had spawned its own subculture of tuning experts sharing builds and competing for fastest times on various tracks. YouTube was flooded with tutorials on optimal gear ratios for different race types, forums debated endlessly about suspension setups, and Discord servers organized nightly tournaments with increasingly specific rulesets.
Critics kept searching for flaws to balance their reviews, worried about appearing biased, but found themselves nitpicking minor issues. The game's shine was almost blinding, its execution so polished that pointing out minor texture pop-in or occasional AI pathing issues felt petty. It had been elevated to sacred status in gaming communities—untouchable, beyond reproach, a standard against which all future racing games would be measured.
Even the industry's usual troublemakers stayed quiet. Brandon Sterling's public humiliation at Alex's birthday party was still fresh in everyone's memory. The image of him rage-quitting after being destroyed by a "small studio" had become a meme. Nobody wanted to face the wrath of Fast and Furious's rabid fanbase. One negative comment could trigger an avalanche of angry responses that would bury any critic. Gaming forums had stories of reviewers who'd dared to give the game less than 9/10 receiving death threats.
Stormwind Studios surfed waves of good news daily. Sales records shattered, player milestones reached, engagement metrics that made other developers weep. Every report stunned the industry further. But the biggest shock came with the Lamborghini news.
The idea of a luxury automotive brand seeking a license FROM a game developer was unprecedented. The traditional flow had always been one-way—developers would approach car manufacturers, often paying hefty fees just to include their vehicles. They'd deal with endless approval processes, restrictions on how cars could be damaged or portrayed, and sometimes even limitations on which cars could race against each other. This reversal sent shockwaves through both gaming and automotive industries.
"The world's gone topsy-turvy," one industry analyst had written. "When Lamborghini comes to you, you know you've transcended being just a game developer."
After intense negotiations that involved lawyers, designers, and executives flying back and forth, Stormwind Studios and Lamborghini reached a historic agreement. The Italian automaker would pay substantial licensing fees for the designs created for Fast and Furious. But more importantly, Stormwind would receive a percentage of future Lamborghini sales revenue—an unprecedented arrangement. The partnership would extend into collaborative design projects for future vehicle lines, with Stormwind's designers consulting on aerodynamics and styling.
"Can you believe this?" Jake asked during a break in negotiations, still processing the surreal situation. "Six months ago, we were begging for licensing deals, hoping someone would return our emails. Now Lamborghini's entire legal team is in our conference room, and they brought espresso machines."
"Just wait," Alex smiled, his mind already racing with possibilities. "This is only the beginning. Every car manufacturer is going to want what Lamborghini's getting. We're not just game developers anymore—we're tastemakers in the automotive world."
The financial windfall was certainly welcome—the licensing fees alone would fund their next three projects. But the strategic value was immeasurable. This partnership legitimized Stormwind Studios as more than just game developers—they were now players in the luxury automotive space, influencers in an industry that had previously looked down on gaming as kid stuff.
"You realize what this means?" Danny said, having finally stopped eating long enough to process the implications. "Your fictional cars are now more valuable than some real ones. That's insane."
"It's the power of good design and massive reach," Alex replied. "When 500 million people fall in love with your vision of what a car should be, even Lamborghini takes notice."
The gaming industry watched in amazement as Stormwind Studios redefined what was possible. They weren't just making games anymore—they were building an empire that transcended digital entertainment. Their influence reached into real-world manufacturing, design, and popular culture.
Other developers scrambled to understand the secret sauce. Was it the story? The physics engine? The modification system? The answer, of course, was that it was everything—a perfect storm of innovation, timing, and execution that couldn't be easily replicated.
"Gentlemen," Alex raised his glass one more time as the night deepened around them, the city lights creating a glittering tapestry below. "To Fast and Furious. To Stormwind Studios. To proving everyone wrong."
"To family," Jake added, and Danny nodded approvingly.
They drank, knowing this moment—this feeling of being on top of the world—was special. Fast and Furious had changed everything. The racing genre would never be the same. The relationship between games and car manufacturers had been revolutionized. And everyone knew this was just the first lap of a much longer, more ambitious race.
As the barbecue wound down and the friends prepared to head home, Alex looked out over the city and smiled. Somewhere out there, millions of players were living out their street racing dreams in the world they'd created. Lamborghini executives were preparing presentations about their groundbreaking partnership. Competitors were desperately trying to catch up.
Plz THROW POWER STONES.