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At the same time, outside an unfamiliar apartment building in Los Angeles, two half-naked men shivered in the cold evening air.
That's right, these two pathetic-looking individuals were the unfortunate souls who had been sent to retrieve Penny's TV from Sheldon and Leonard.
Unfortunately, not only had they failed to recover the television, but they'd also had their pants stolen. Could it get any more humiliating?
A cool breeze swept by, and Sheldon broke out in goosebumps, quickly wrapping his arms around himself.
"Leonard."
"What now?" Leonard replied helplessly, reaching into his jacket pocket. Compared to Sheldon, he was slightly better off—at least he still had his coat.
"My mother bought me these underwear," Sheldon said mournfully.
"I'm sorry," Leonard sighed.
"You have to call her and explain what happened."
Ron drove while Toretto navigated. The two soon arrived at an obscure diner. As soon as they found a booth, Toretto couldn't contain himself any longer.
"Why? I need to know why. Why did you come back to me? Didn't I make it clear that I don't want you anywhere near Mia again?"
"Relax, Dom. I'm not planning to rekindle anything with Mia," Ron said, raising his hand to signal a flirtatious-looking waitress. After taking their order, she even traced her finger across Ron's palm suggestively before walking away.
Ron was accustomed to this attention, but he had zero interest. He swore it wasn't just because she was unattractive—though she definitely looked like an ugly duckling compared to the other brunette waitress with the impressive figure working the other section.
It was because, as she'd approached, Ron had caught a strong whiff of cheap perfume mixed with cigarette smoke, which completely killed his appetite. He pushed his plate forward while Dom took a massive bite of his burger, devouring it with obvious enjoyment.
"So you're really just after that drug dealer? But he's obviously not that well-known. Few locals have heard of him, and his distribution volume isn't that significant. I don't get why you're so determined to find him."
Toretto expressed his confusion. Ron discreetly produced two small plastic bags containing powdery substances and placed them in front of Toretto, explaining patiently.
"As you can see, this bag of white powder represents the most popular product currently on the market, with a purity of only around 90%. But this blue powder has a purity of 96%!"
Toretto shook his head. "You know I never touch that garbage, so I don't understand what a 6% difference means. But I know you never waste time on meaningless pursuits."
"Alright, then let me explain what this 6% difference represents. This is revolutionary drug manufacturing technology! Higher addiction rates, more intense highs, and significantly more profit. Trust me, every addict will go crazy for this stuff. Once they've experienced it, everything else on the market becomes as appealing as candy to a diabetic.
I have a strong intuition that this product will flood the entire country soon! In other words, if this technology allows for mass production, whoever created this formula is going to make an absolute fortune. This guy is a legitimate chemical genius."
Ron sighed deeply. He had this nagging feeling that the name Heisenberg and this new blue product were somehow familiar, like characters from an American TV series, but he just couldn't place it.
After all, although he'd watched plenty of American television in his previous life, he'd usually stuck to comedies and avoided crime dramas.
Toretto remained completely indifferent throughout Ron's explanation, entirely focused on his burger. He only looked up after finishing it and wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"So you're planning to bust this guy?"
Ron gave him a "seriously, do you even know me?" look. "I'll say it one more time, Dom. I have absolutely no interest in bringing him to justice—that's the DEA's job. The only thing we at the IRS care about is this guy not paying his taxes, and I care about the substantial reward I'll receive when I locate him. God only knows how much money I'll make if this stuff goes nationwide."
Hearing this, Toretto didn't look surprised in the least.
"Have you reached out to other law enforcement agencies, like the FBI or DEA, for intelligence?"
"Of course, but they don't have any reliable information. Since you're asking, I'm assuming I've probably been fed some bullshit, right?"
Ron's expression remained neutral, his tone casual as always, but Toretto, who knew him well, recognized that he was furious.
Toretto shook his head again. "I'm not sure, but if we're talking about high-purity drugs, something like that did hit the streets for a brief period. Then, not long afterward, blue crystal meth appeared in the hands of a dealer named Tuco. Word is there was an explosion at Tuco's operation right before that, which led many people to speculate whether it was some new product Tuco had developed himself. You know, I've got a MIT graduate working for me. He said the technology seemed crude at first, but maybe the guy learned from his early failures."
Ron showed some interest in this Tuco character. "Tell me more about this guy. Where can I find him?"
"Hell."
"Excuse me?" Ron wondered if he'd misheard; that didn't sound like a location.
Toretto gestured toward the TV mounted in the corner of the diner. The news was running a segment reviewing the city's recent major drug busts, including the takedown of drug kingpin Tuco Salamanca.
"You know I'm a practicing Catholic. I've always believed that anyone involved with that poison ends up in hell. Maybe you could try looking for him there."
Ron smiled wryly. "Can anyone tell me how to get to hell without dying first? What am I supposed to do, find some guy named Constantine?"
"Who's that?" Toretto asked.
"There's supposedly a movie about him from the Hellblazer comic series. Haven't you seen it?"
"I don't watch movies," Toretto replied flatly.
"I'm amazed you and Letty ever got together. Anyway, back to business—I'm going to hit up the DEA again tomorrow. The agent who took down Tuco is named Hank, right? Maybe I can get more leads from him. Of course, I can't rely entirely on him. I just arrived in LA. Do you have any connected friends who could make some introductions?"
Ron saved the agent's name from the news report on his phone and continued questioning Toretto.
"Listen, tomorrow night at 11 PM, I'm organizing an underground street race. Lots of people will be there, and you might want to come meet some new contacts."
Toretto leaned forward on the table and glared at Ron intensely. "But Mia will be there too. Honestly, I really don't want you two crossing paths again."
However, the tense atmosphere was broken by the playful ringtone of Ron's cell phone. He glanced down to see Sheldon calling.
"Don't worry, I can wear a disguise." Ron held up his phone. "Sorry, family emergency. I have to bail early. Like you, I take family seriously." He left money under his plate and headed for the door before answering the call.
"Sheldon?"
Sheldon's voice came through the speaker: "Ron, could you bring me a pair of pants? And Leonard needs a pair too. We're—"
Ron frowned and cut him off. "I want to know what the hell happened first."
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