Status: Completed... For Now.


High on the Crime.

Blair woke the next morning and dressed as usual, poured herself a drink and lit a cigarette. She smoothed the bottom of a turquoise blouse against her skinny-legged black jeans and unconsciously clicked her thin heels against the beautiful mahogany floor impatiently as she waited for Toretto to knock on her door. She took a drag from her cigarette while she surveyed in front of the fridge before the knock came.

“Come in,” She called as she pulled out a piece of lime to suck on for a moment. Dominic let himself in, and took the cigarette from her hand to take a drag. “Excuse me?” Toretto grinned impishly.

“I guess I’m just excited. When do we leave? What are we doing first?” It was Blair’s turn to smile, stealing her cigarette back from Toretto. She pocketed her pack of fags, her cell phone, and a car key. “Which car?”

“The M7.” Blair followed him out of her apartments, and the pair proceeded down the hall to the garage. The mansion’s hallways were empty so early in the morning - even though it was nearly nine o’clock, the riff raff that lived in the Compound didn’t usually rise until noon.

“Can I have a cigarette?”

“What made you turn into a child?” Blair snapped as she lowered herself into the driver’s side of the car. “Besides, smoking is bad for you.” She grinned as the engine revved to life. Zero to 60 mph in 4.2 seconds, Blair was on the autobahn before Dominic considered speaking again.

“So what are we going to do first?” He wondered aloud as he considered the itinerary he and Blair had discussed with Mikhail and Kolya over a hefty bottle of Finlandia Vodka. Each team of two people was in charge of acquiring three cars for the total of twelve that they needed. Toretto and Blair had decided that Blair be in charge of the negotiation of the sale of the single car that Blair was going to have to buy. Most of her choices, the cars Blair had picked out as easy targets, were the cars they would be pursuing - all except the one car that Blair was to negotiate a settlement for.

“It makes me feel better about myself,” She had said to him after she took a long draught of vodka. “To do the negotiations. Less like I‘m taking too much and not giving enough back, you know? There‘s always a balance.” Blair was a strange bird, that was certain; ride or die until the end, but extremely subject to that guilty feeling anyone except the most hardened of criminals tended to develop when their livelihood was based off crime.

“We’re going to go to Moscow and get the CTS-V.” Blair shrugged, and pulled in to a small gas station. She left Toretto to pump while she bought the crappy coffee inside the station.

“That’s going to be a trip, by the way,” She handed Toretto a “venti” sized coffee before she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Getting that car. I have a spare keyless remote that usually opens the doors to Caddies like that one - I thank God for the man who invented keyless entry, made my life easier, - but sometimes it’s a bit dodgy and it doesn’t work. Luckily enough, I have this…” She had rummaged through the glove compartment of the M7 as she drove, and finally pulled out a small, black box of a device and proffered it to Toretto as she drove away.

“It’s a security system jammer. Who would have known that Kolya was such a technological genius, right?” She smiled wryly before she took a sip of her coffee and lit a cigarette. “It works on every single security alarm I’ve ever encountered since he made it - even house alarms. As long as I have it on me, I can surreptitiously break the window and climb right in.”

“Then what?” Toretto asked as he fiddled with the nondescript black box - he turned it over and over again in his hardened hands, as he observed the exemplary (and strange) craftsmanship. Kolya, he thought, was a genius.

“Well, we’ll have to drive home separately, then we’ll go ‘negotiate’ the sale of a certain Rolls-Royce Phantom. I’m sure that Ivan is looking forward to seeing me in the next couple days. He’s under the impression that I have stolen his cars before.” She shrugged as she grinned brightly. “I wonder what on earth gave him that impression.” And after all that - after we get the Rolls back to the Compound - it’s off to inner-city Tver to get the Jag I found there. That won’t be too difficult."

“So what happens if the police catch us? If one of your little devices doesn’t work?” Toretto asked as he finished his coffee. “Do I drive this car, or the other one?” Blair lifted an eyebrow at his surplus of questions, and took a sip of her coffee before she spoke.

“Well. The police won’t catch us, because I do believe you are faster than them.” She paused, as if considering what she had just condemned them to, and beat her knuckles against the mahogany wood dash accents three times. “Just don’t get caught. You hear sirens, you split; I can fend for myself. Just don’t go back to the Compound if you have cops on your ass - they would love to find that fucking place, I’m sure.” Blair sighed as she progressed from a stoplight to fifth gear with ease as she took the sloping ramp to the autobahn - she passed by cars as if they stood still. “I know you know all of that jazz, you were in the American Street Racing Scene. Isn’t that all just getting busted by cops?” Really, Toretto thought mildly, her subtle jabs at his past were getting old. Just because she knew everything about him and him next to nothing about her…

“How do we stay in touch?” He asked, and was directed to the center console as Blair blasted between two semi-trucks before she cut in front of another to avoid a back-end collision with an itty-bitty Ferrari. Toretto had a white-knuckle hold on what he liked to call the “Oh Shit Grip,” the little handle which hung above the passenger’s door. Normally, her balls-to-the-wall driving style wouldn’t have bothered him in the least, but his adrenaline rush was saving itself for the event to come. Blair had pulled out a set of Bluetooth-compatible ear pieces; she handed one to Dominic before she affixed her own to her left ear, adjusting it just so.

“Great, but I don’t have a cell phone here.” Blair spared Toretto a glance, and wondered if the muscle man was ever going to stop doubting her system and just trust her.

“The M does.” She said, and took a swig of her rapidly cooling coffee as she steered precariously with her knees through the heavy traffic. Blair scowled darkly at the temperature of the coffee and unceremoniously tossed it out the window as they rounded a bend in the never ending road. Toretto watched, and wondered weather she would give him more information about what they were about to do.

He had gathered that she was going to be the one to actually steal the car - what with her state-of-the-art gadgetry and all of that shit. Whatever happened, he wondered, to breaking a fucking window and jump-starting the car with to fucking pieces of wire?

“Then, darling, God gave us the keyless system. Everything runs on frequencies now - with enough trial and error, everyone can figure out how to swindle a keyless.” Toretto watched as the speedometer passed one hundred miles per hour and made its way up to nearly one hundred fifty miles per hour as Blair sped past a line of stopped cars - nearly on the shoulder of the highway.

Toretto leaned back in his seat and let his eyes slide closed; before he knew it, he awoke in Moscow. Blair had stopped again for coffee, and was taking an enormous swig of hers as she shook him awake, her fiery hair gleamed in the sunlight.

“Let’s go honey, we don’t want to be late, do we?” She motioned for him to exit the passenger’s seat in favor of driving - which Toretto had no qualms. Blair settled herself into his warmed seat without a word, her mismatched eyes scanned the road as Toretto followed the explicit directions of the GPS - directions which Blair must have entered while he had been asleep. Toretto could feel the slow build of the adrenaline in his veins - stealing a car was just like racing to him, one facilitated another. He felt the same anticipation building up in him as he would have during a race - the feeling that he might not win, might not pull off the jacking was exhilarating rather than nauseating, as many would say.

Blair felt similar to the brawny man, but in her own little British way. She thrived when faced with a challenge - and nothing was more challenging than pulling off a heist right in the owner’s front yard. She watched as Toretto’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, waited in anticipation as he parallel parked across the street from their target. It was a quiet street - Blair had noticed, as she wondered if she would have preferred a busy area to a peaceful village with neighbors in tow. But she knew from her research that this neighborhood was filled with businessmen who worked during the day and with people who would “summer” in Moscow - and since it wasn’t quite summer yet, that meant that the majority of the houses had to be empty.

She turned on her Bluetooth device as she exited the car - the alarm-jamming device was in her purse, and she clutched a few hefty books to her chest so that she would look more official. The telltale click of the locks on the Cadillac caused a wry grin to slide across her face, as she kept Dominic updated with a stream of English - a language not usually used in Moscow.

“We’re in.”

Blair pulled open the driver’s door - she had a bit of difficulty juggling her “things” - and clambered into the low-profile vehicle; she couldn’t help but wonder why she wore heels to a heist as she pulled off her right shoe in order to press on the brake to start the keyless with the push of a button. The engine of the CTS-V roared to life, and with a bright smile, Blair instructed Toretto to “Drive.” He grunted over the line - she left in one direction down the street, he in the other.

The tiny redhead had to remind herself to relax as her grip tightened on the steering wheel - being tense didn’t help her precision driving any, and she needed to be at her best doing something like this. A bright flashing light caught her attention - a cop who had pulled over some poor drunken sod on a motorbike - and Blair cursed herself as she nearly ran a red light into oncoming traffic in her distraction.

Toretto heard the screech of the Cadillac’s tires on the ground form his place in the line of traffic. He had been instructed to remain a few cars back, and the pair kept contact to a minimum until they were out of the city and on their way back to the Compound. As a precaution, Blair hadn’t programmed the route back to the mansions and instead had taught it to Toretto - he had practically studied it and could recite each turn from the Moscow Autobahn to the Compound by heart - lest he be pulled over by the police with the information still in his GPS. No precaution was too great for Blair, it seemed; which was the exact opposite of how Toretto usually rolled. He would make a plan, hope it worked, and if the cops showed or the plan went south, he would “wing it.” Blair, he saw, despised the phrase - every meticulous detail of the trip had to be perfect.

“How’re you up there?” The burly man called through his Bluetooth device, as he noticed what had caught Blair’s eye.

“The police distracted me. Drunk man on a scooter.” He could almost see Blair’s embarrassed shrug through the tinted windows of both cars as his lane of traffic moved past the stationary Cadillac. Toretto ran a hand over his bristly head - he felt the sweat begin to build under his new growth of hair. Appalled, he reached for the black, folded bandanna he had left in the passenger’s seat when he had switched seats with Blair and at the next stoplight he tried it over his temples to avert the slow drip of sweat which trickled down his forehead toward his eyes.

“Just be careful.” He cautioned - he knew she was all too aware of the consequences of their actions, that much was apparent by the trio of Indian Ink dots she carried between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.

Toretto could barely prevent a sigh of relief as Blair shot up the ramp to the autobahn. He followed at a similar speed - breakneck was nothing to the M7, he was surprised to find. Toretto had become fond of the German engineering; he was appalled to admit the fact, but it was true. As he wondered when he would finally be able to take the Bluetooth device from his ear, Blair gave him the all-clear to proceed directly back to the Compound as quickly as possible. Relieved, Dominic laid his foot down on the pedal and let the lead weight of his foot carry him through traffic. The car was responsive, it reacted beneath his fingertips as if his wish were its command - a certain electricity chafed his tired palms as Toretto guided the BMW through the heavy mid-afternoon traffic.

Soon, he had caught up with Blair, who barreled along down the street as quickly as the very heavy CTS-V would allow. The car was cumbersome and had a touch less horsepower than the M7; beside him, Blair revved the engine higher before she slowed to a safer highway speed for a moment. He couldn’t see through the combined tint on the windows of both cars, but in a moment it became clear what she had done. The ring of a phone sounded over the speakers, it nearly frightened Toretto out the window.


“Race you back to the Compound? Winner gets an entire case of Corona?” Like that wasn’t free for the taking all over the mansion. The proposition caused Toretto to smile a Blair-like grin in her direction.

“Fuck yes.” She was gone like lightning - it was all he could do to keep up.
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Title: Turbonegro.