A week later – A quiet night at Robinson's home.
The living room glowed in warm yellow light. A tray of tea and cookies sat untouched on the table.
Knock knock.
Someone knocked on the door.
Paul opened it slowly.
An older man stood there—tall, composed despite his age, eyes sharp like a hawk.
He wore a clean button-up shirt, and carried a quiet authority.
"Dad," Paul said quietly.
Robinson stood up from the sofa as Paul introduced him:
"Rob… this is your grandfather."
The old man gave Robinson a long look.
"So you're Robinson. You've got your mother's fire… but those eyes? Definitely your father's."
They sat together. The beginning of the conversation was light—stories about Robinson's childhood, his fear of chickens, or how he once tried to ride a vacuum cleaner like a motorcycle.
Soft laughter filled the room.
But then… the air shifted.
Grandfather leaned forward.
"Your mother, Maya… she was rebellious. Ran away from home at 17. Didn't want school, didn't want rules. She got caught up in underground racing, parties, and eventually…"
Paul finished the thought quietly.
"She got involved with Zero Divide."
Robinson's face tensed.
"So… she wasn't just around them. She was in it?"
Grandfather nodded.
"She was nearly used as bait in a drug exchange to Japan. That's when your father stepped in. He was undercover for the FBI back then. Risked everything to pull her out."
Silence. Robinson's thoughts raced.
But then his grandfather leaned back slowly… and exhaled deeply.
"Robinson…"
He stared into his grandson's eyes.
"There's something you don't know. I was one of the original founders… of Zero Divide."
Paul froze.
Robinson blinked, stunned.
"What!?"
The old man continued calmly:
"Back then, Zero Divide wasn't a criminal group. We were just a circle of ex-racers and war veterans. We wanted to protect our streets from gangs and syndicates. But as money and power crept in… everything changed. Some of my partners sold out. The mission turned dark."
Paul's voice was low, shaken.
"So all of this… started from our own blood?"
Grandfather looked at Robinson.
"You have to understand who you are. You're not just the son of an FBI agent. Or the child of a street rebel. You carry the legacy of both the beginning… and possibly the end of Zero Divide."
Robinson stood up slowly. His face had changed.
"Then maybe this is my path. Not just to protect my mom… but to finish what should've ended long ago."
Grandfather gave a slight smile.
"Then there's one last place you need to see. The original Zero Divide headquarters. The place where it all started. Not even your father knows it exists."
The night wind slipped through the open living room window as Robinson sat casually with his grandfather, sharing light conversation about the past. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Daryl's name.
Robinson answered, listening carefully, then stood up.
"Just stepping out for a bit, Grandpa. Won't be long," he said, already moving toward the door. Paul glanced over from the kitchen, but Robinson was already gone.
At the illegal street racing arena – outskirts of the city
Engines roared in the distance. Neon lights bathed the scene around the starting line. Robinson rolled in with his Supra, pulling into the heart of the crowd. Heads turned as his car came to a stop.
He stepped out, eyes scanning the gathering before spotting Daryl near the barriers.
"Who am I racing tonight?" Robinson asked, nodding toward the lineup of cars.
Daryl pointed silently.
Leon stepped forward from the shadows. He wore a black jacket with a strange emblem on the shoulder, something foreign. His eyes were sharp, face unreadable.
"I saw you last week," Leon said coldly. "At the school gate—with Cassandra. If you lose tonight, stay away from her. And your car? It's mine."
Robinson stared at him, unfazed. He looked at Daryl, then back at Leon.
"I'm disgusted just having to race you," Robinson said, voice calm but sharp. "But… I accept."
Leon scoffed and turned his head away in disdain. The crowd buzzed, a mix of shock and amusement.
Daryl stepped close and muttered, "Just this once, Rob. You got this."
Robinson smirked and stepped forward.
"Alright. But if I win..." he said, voice loud enough for the crowd, "I get to talk to her as much as I want. And your wallet—that fat one in your back pocket? I'm taking it."
The crowd exploded into laughter and shouts.
Someone near the front yelled, "Why not just take his car too?"
Robinson pointed at Leon's car. "That junk? Please. I only collect Japanese builds."
More laughter followed. Leon's eyes narrowed, jaw clenched in irritation.
A race crew member raised a hand. "Engines ready! Three minutes to start!"
Robinson got into his car, gripping the wheel. His eyes locked on the road ahead. In the rearview mirror, he spotted Cassandra standing in the crowd—expression unreadable.
Across from him, Leon was already revving his engine, tires growling with fury.
Red light.
The crowd held its breath.
Yellow light.
The crowd buzzed with excitement, tension hanging thick in the air.
Cassandra stepped forward from the sidelines. Her hair flowed gently in the wind, eyes sharp and focused on the two cars lined up at the starting point. In her hand, a black cloth fluttered slightly.
She raised her voice so everyone could hear:
"Ready…"
The crowd fell silent.
Engines roared — Robinson's Supra and Leon's sleek black ride revving in sync.
Cassandra lifted the cloth high… and let it fly.
"GO!"
The cloth hit the ground and both cars shot forward, tires screaming, exhaust roaring like beasts unleashed.
The crowd erupted.
"LET'S GOOOO!!"
"ROBINSON!!"
Phones were out, lights flashing, some even climbed on cars to get a better view.
Near the back, Daryl strolled over to his girlfriend who stood by a car, arms crossed.
Daryl bumped her shoulder with a grin.
"Told you… that guy doesn't back down."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is he even sane? Going up against Leon?"
Daryl chuckled. "Nah, he's not sane… but he's smart. Leon has no idea who he's messing with."
Back on the track, Leon took the early lead, drifting clean through the first corner with style. Robinson trailed half a car length behind.
But as the second corner approached, Robinson yanked the handbrake, drifting sideways with perfect control — sliding past Leon on the inside.
The crowd went wild.
"NO WAY!"
"THAT DRIFT!!"
Cassandra stood near the guardrail, her eyes fixed on Robinson. She didn't say a word, but for a brief moment, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
Inside Leon's car, frustration set in. He gritted his teeth, pressing the gas harder, trying to keep up.
But Robinson was gaining distance. Every move was smooth, aggressive, calculated.
Daryl crossed his arms, watching the track.
"I told you… that kid's built different."
The sound of screeching tires tore through the night. Robinson crossed the finish line first, just half a second ahead of Leon. Cheers erupted from the crowd. People rushed toward the track, shouting in disbelief as the new guy took down one of the top racers.
Daryl shouted, throwing both hands in the air.
"LET'S GOO!! That's my boy!!"
His girlfriend laughed beside him, "Robinson's insane… seriously."
Smoke still curled from the tires as Robinson stepped out of his car, sweat trickling down his temple, his breath heavy—but his face lit with victory.
Leon got out more slowly. His expression stayed calm, but there was fire in his eyes.
Robinson walked up to him and extended his hand.
"A deal's a deal," he said firmly.
Leon stared at him for a moment… then sighed, pulling out his wallet.
He took out some bills and handed them over.
"Take it," he muttered.
Robinson took the money with a faint smirk.
"I'm not here to take everything you've got. I just wanted to prove you can't look down on me."
Leon averted his gaze. Was it shame? Frustration? He said nothing.
Robinson turned away, eyes scanning for Cassandra.
She stood near the finish line, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Without a word, Robinson walked up and took her hand.
The crowd went silent for a beat, caught off guard by the bold move.
Leon watched from a distance, jaw tightening… but he didn't move.
Robinson looked back at the crowd.
"I won… and it looks like I gained something else too."
Cassandra stared at him sharply—but she didn't pull her hand away.
Daryl shouted from behind, "CIYEEE!!"
The crowd broke into laughter and whistles.
Robinson let out a small smile. Tonight, he wasn't just the son of a former agent.
Tonight, he was someone to be reckoned with—on the streets, and maybe… in Cassandra's heart.