The Koenigsegg One:1 was at that time the world's most expensive luxury hypercar.
Back in 2014, its price tag was already over one billion, and only six units existed worldwide.
This Swedish manufacturer was a relatively young company compared to the titans of the automotive industry, but their dream was simple and audacious: to build the greatest supercars in the world. The One:1 embodied that ambition, even borrowing insignias from the Swedish Royal Air Force in its design. Car enthusiasts nicknamed it the "Ghost Car", a nod to its spectral presence on the road.
Its performance stats were just as haunting:
Top speed: 450 km/h
0–400 km/h: a staggering 20 seconds flat
It was recognized as the fastest production car in the world.
Now, in the hands of Dino, a notorious figure in the underground tuning scene, this machine was no longer just a car—it was about to become a monster. Dino's reputation as a modding kingpin guaranteed that any car he touched would far exceed its base performance.
At the same time, Tobey Marshall's SSC Tuatara (nicknamed "Big Lizard") was also a top contender for the fastest street car. For years, the SSC and the Koenigsegg One:1 had traded blows on the charts, vying for the crown.
The SSC carried the claim of fastest hypercar on the planet.
But the official Guinness record for a production car still belonged to the Koenigsegg.
Now, with Tobey and Dino preparing to clash head-to-head, the world's eyes would inevitably fall on this battle. Even the executives of SSC and Koenigsegg themselves were rumored to be paying close attention. This wasn't just a grudge match between two racers—it was a proxy war between two legendary brands.
For Tobey, refusing the challenge wasn't an option. If he backed down, trouble would only multiply.
"If he dares to issue a challenge, I'll accept it," Tobey said firmly. "Time, place—let him choose. I'm not afraid of him."
Tobey's confidence wasn't baseless. He had once dragged Dino into ruin through a series of underground races, avenging his fallen friend in the process. If he could defeat Dino once, he could do it again.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Boss, there's someone who wants to see you."
"Who?" Tobey asked.
"It's Leon. Gisele's friend."
Tobey froze at the name.
That night, Leon arrived not in his usual ferocious blaze of speed, but cruising calmly. He was dressed casually, accompanied by Hattie Shaw, Elena, and Gisele—three striking women who turned heads wherever they went.
His Diomas Nilo purred down the streets at just over 100 km/h—"gentle" by his standards. He explained it was because the women were all dressed to perfection, makeup immaculate, gowns flowing; tearing across the city at 900 km/h would ruin the effect. Even his version of "slow" was enough to blow past most cars.
Inside, the scene was dazzling:
Gisele wore a delicate pink gauze gown with layered skirts, a cinched waist, and matching heels—pure elegance.
Elena was radiant in a champagne-colored evening dress, her hair styled with an ornate floral accessory.
Hattie Shaw stood out in a crimson gown embroidered with golden flowers, her voluminous hairstyle making her look almost ethereal.
Three breathtaking women, each beautiful in their own way, sat alongside Leon. Onlookers on the streets nearly broke their necks staring. And with Gisele riding shotgun in the passenger seat, it wasn't hard to see why other men burned with envy.
This wasn't luck. This was the pinnacle of a man's life.
One woman like this was already a dream most men would never touch. Leon had three.
When they arrived at the DeLuna Bar—a mysterious, high-class establishment that only opened during full moons—Tobey himself was already waiting. The building, designed by a famed Iberian architect, was an art piece in itself. Inside, the music was always soft, the drinks low in alcohol. The intent was clear: elegance without recklessness, luxury without chaos.
The fact that Tobey had chosen this place for their meeting showed respect.
As soon as Leon's hypercar pulled up, Tobey got up from his seat and strode outside in person to greet him. His companions stared in shock.
"Who could make Tobey greet them himself?"
"He's a legend on the East Coast. For him to walk out… who is this guy?"
"Wait—I heard Gisele's bringing someone with her. Don't tell me… she has a man now?"
Whispers spread like wildfire, curiosity burning. Gisele wasn't just admired—she was idolized. To see her walk in with a man at her side had jaws dropping, and hearts burning with jealousy.
And then Leon stepped out, tall and calm, with three goddesses following behind him. It was a sight so unreal, the men around could only gape in stunned silence.
Tobey greeted him with a firm handshake and a grin.
"Welcome, welcome. You must be the famous West Coast Car God—Leon."
Leon blinked, caught off guard.
"You… already know who I am?"
He hadn't even introduced himself yet. Gisele hadn't said a word either. For Tobey to identify him instantly meant one thing: his network and intel were razor-sharp.
Tobey chuckled.
"I know because I've lost before. Not recognizing you? Impossible."
That alone was shocking. For Tobey to admit he'd been beaten, to acknowledge Leon as his superior, was unheard of. If word of this spread, it would shake the entire underground racing scene. East Coast conceding to West Coast? That was a declaration of war on pride itself.
But Tobey didn't care. He extended his hand again.
"Come in. I'll introduce you to my crew."
Behind them, the patrons stared, eyes wide, whispering furiously. Who was this man that had bested Tobey, claimed Gisele's loyalty, and walked with three queens at his side?
Leon had just stepped into the bar, but already he was the center of gravity in the room.