The LA street racing scene, even in its nascent stage, was a symphony of risk and adrenaline. It was decentralized—a mix of old-school cruiser gangs and high-tech tuner clubs.
I drove the Supra out onto the streets, feeling the responsive steering and the immense power surge of the turbo. The Instant Mastery applied not just to fixing the car, but to driving it. I knew the weight balance, the tire slip threshold, the optimal shift points for every gear.
My first target: The Big Meet.
The GTA minimap was invaluable. It highlighted potential events and, chillingly, potential rivals. Tonight's meet was in the industrial section of the city, near the docks. Neon lights reflected off the polished chrome of dozens of cars—Japanese imports, American muscle, European exotics.
The air vibrated with bass and testosterone.
I parked the Supra subtly. I wasn't here to make friends; I was here to make money and establish presence.
I walked the perimeter, my HUD filtering information. Several racers were already lining up for quick, high-stakes drag races. But one group commanded attention: the muscle car crew. They were older, tougher, and their leader stood beside a brutal, black 1970 Dodge Charger.
He was a giant of a man, built like a brick engine block, with an intense, focused gaze. Even without the System telling me, I knew who he was.
Dominic Toretto. The legend.
This was the deep end. Perfect.
I approached a man currently taking bets—a slick, nervous guy named Hector, who the System identified as a low-level organizer.
"What's the running bet?" I asked, indicating the Charger and a souped-up Mustang.
Hector eyed my button-up shirt skeptically. "A thousand a piece. Toretto's running hot tonight. You looking to place?"
"I'm looking to run," I corrected.
Hector stared at the Supra, then back at me. "That thing is clean, but you got no reputation, man. Toretto only runs against known quantities."
I smiled. The boredom was truly gone. This was the thrill I had craved.
"Then I'll pay for the reputation," I said, pulling out my remaining $6,000. "I'll put this down. Winner take all. I'll run against anyone you have who thinks they're faster than a thousand horsepower."
My casual confidence, combined with the wad of cash, drew attention instantly. Toretto slowly turned, his eyes locking onto the Supra.
He walked over, his face unreadable. He looked me up and down, sizing up the accountant who dared to challenge his kingdom.
"That's a nice vehicle," Dom's voice was low, gravelly. "But speed isn't just about the car, kid. It's about the driver. You look slow."
"I was slow," I agreed, meeting his gaze. "But I just had an upgrade."
Dom grinned, a dangerous flash of teeth. "Alright. Hector, tell Vince to move his Camaro. We've got a new player."
The race was set: a two-mile sprint down the main industrial strip, ending at a flashing construction sign.
I slipped into the Supra. The moment my hands gripped the steering wheel and my foot found the accelerator, the Instant Mastery skill activated everything—the muscle memory, the precision. My heart rate dropped to a steady, calm rhythm. I saw the dynamics of the track, the optimal launch angle, the exact moment the tires would grip and when they would break loose.
Vince pulled his bright yellow Camaro up alongside me. He was sneering, already counting the cash.
The starting girl held up the flag. The tension was suffocating. Engines roared, vibrating the asphalt.
First gear.
The flag dropped.
Vince nailed his launch, the Camaro spitting rubber and surging forward with brutal torque.
My launch was different. I found the Supra's sweet spot—just under the traction limit. I feathered the throttle, letting the turbo spool instantly, then dumped the clutch, engaging the nitrous oxide system I had custom-wired.
The world blurred.
The GTA System gave me a critical overlay: [CRITICAL SHIFT POINT IN 0.2 SECONDS]. I hit the shift lever with surgical precision.
The Supra didn't just accelerate; it vaulted.
In the span of four seconds, I was half a car length ahead. Vince, relying on brute force over finesse, was fighting to keep his front wheels on the ground.
The first turn approached—a gentle sweeping bend I knew Vince would attempt to drift wide.
I didn't drift. I found the perfect apex, relying on the Supra's balanced suspension and my instantaneous understanding of the car's weight distribution. I hit the corner so tight I could scrape the divider, maintaining nearly all my speed.
When I exited the curve, I was three car lengths ahead.
I engaged the final nitrous charge. The world dissolved into a streak of taillights and neon.
I slammed across the finish line, braking hard just before the construction barrier.
Silence followed the roar.
I glanced at my HUD.
[$CASH: 12,000] (Initial Bet) [+$6,000 | WIN BONUS: $500]
[SKILL ACQUIRED: DRIVING (STREET RACING) - LEVEL 5 (MASTER)]