"We need a ghost," you tell Dom as you stand beside the Audi RS7, the garage quiet in the early morning hours. "Someone who can drive anything, disappear anywhere, and never lose his cool under pressure."
Dom's expression remains neutral, but your interface detects subtle shifts in his posture:
[DOM TORETTO: INTEREST LEVEL INCREASED]
[CURIOSITY INDICATORS: PRESENT]
[TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: ACTIVELY CALCULATING]
"You have someone specific in mind," he observes.
"Han Seoul-Oh." You activate your interface's search functionality, information cascading through your vision: "Currently operating in Hong Kong after leaving the Tokyo drift scene. Precision driver, tactical specialist, and expert in disappearing."
Dom's eyebrow raises slightly. "Han's a ghost for good reason. No digital footprint, no consistent address, no predictable movements. Even if he's the right addition, finding him would take weeks we don't have."
"I can find him in hours," you state with quiet confidence.
Dom studies you for a long moment, weighing implications. "This matters to you. Why?"
Your interface presents calculated responses, but you choose something closer to truth: "In another timeline, Han becomes integral to your family. His skills are exceptional, but more importantly, his loyalty becomes unbreakable."
"Another timeline," Dom repeats, the phrase acknowledging your otherworldly origins without directly referencing them. "And in this one?"
"The potential remains the same. We just accelerate the connection."
Dom nods once, decision made. "Find him. If you can get him here in forty-eight hours, we'll incorporate him into the plan."
With Dom's approval secured, you return to your hotel room and activate your interface's most sophisticated search protocols:
[GLOBAL SEARCH: HAN SEOUL-OH]
[PARAMETERS: CURRENT LOCATION, MOVEMENT PATTERNS]
[DATABASES: IMMIGRATION, FINANCIAL, SURVEILLANCE]
[SEARCH DEPTH: MAXIMUM]
Your interface processes millions of data points—border crossings, financial transactions, traffic camera footage, social media shadows. Most individuals would leave clear digital trails, but Han's ghosting techniques create deliberate gaps, strategic blind spots designed to make him unfindable.
But your interface sees patterns invisible to conventional search methods. Three hours into the search, connections materialize:
[LOCATION IDENTIFIED: MACAU, CHINA]
[ESTABLISHMENT: RED CIRCLE CLUB]
[PROBABILITY: 86.7%]
[TIME WINDOW: CURRENT - 72 HOURS]
The interface provides additional context:
[RED CIRCLE: EXCLUSIVE GAMBLING ESTABLISHMENT]
[NOTABLE: HIGH-STAKES POKER, UNDERGROUND RACING CONNECTIONS]
[SECURITY: EXCEPTIONAL - FACIAL RECOGNITION, ARMED PERSONNEL]
You access the GTA menu, scrolling through transportation options:
[PRIVATE JET: GULFSTREAM G650]
[DEPARTURE: LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL]
[DESTINATION: MACAU INTERNATIONAL]
[TRAVEL TIME: 14.2 HOURS]
[CLEARANCE: DIPLOMATIC - NO QUESTIONS]
With a mental command, you confirm the reservation. Simultaneously, you text Gisele: "Operational development. 48-hour absence required. Maintain progress with Dom."
Her reply comes moments later: "Understood. Solo mission?"
"Yes. Recruiting specialized talent."
"Be careful," she responds, the simple statement carrying more weight than its brevity suggests.
Fourteen hours later, you step into the humid Macau night, the city's fusion of Portuguese colonial architecture and ultra-modern casinos creating a disorienting timescape. Your interface immediately orients you, mapping optimal routes to the Red Circle while analyzing security protocols.
You've dressed strategically—custom suit that signals wealth without ostentation, accessories that mark you as a serious player rather than a tourist. The Red Circle's entrance appears modest from the street, its exclusivity marked by the absence of signage rather than its presence.
Two suited guards assess you as you approach. Your interface activates a specialized function:
[STATUS PROJECTION: HIGH-VALUE CLIENT]
[WEALTH INDICATORS: SUBTLE DEPLOYMENT]
[BEHAVIORAL CALIBRATION: CONFIDENT, ESTABLISHED]
"Mr. Zhang expects me," you state with quiet authority, naming one of the club's known managers.
Your interface translates the brief exchange between guards in Cantonese:
"Not on the list."
"Look at the watch. Patek Philippe, limited edition."
"Call Zhang."
After a brief verification call, you're escorted inside to a world of subdued luxury—dark woods, amber lighting, hushed conversations punctuated by the soft click of mahjong tiles and shuffling cards.
Your interface scans the room methodically:
[FACIAL RECOGNITION: ACTIVE]
[TARGET SEARCH: HAN SEOUL-OH]
[MATCH PROBABILITY: CALCULATING...]
There—at a private poker table in the corner. Han's profile is unmistakable, his expression characteristically unreadable as he studies his cards. Five other players surround the table, stacks of high-denomination chips indicating serious stakes.
Rather than approaching directly, you position yourself at the bar with clear sightlines to Han's table. Your interface analyzes his play over the next thirty minutes:
[SUBJECT: HAN SEOUL-OH]
[POKER STRATEGY: CALCULATED AGGRESSION]
[BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS: MINIMAL TELLS, PRECISE BETTING]
[SITUATIONAL AWARENESS: EXCEPTIONAL - MONITORS ALL ENTRANCES]
You order a whiskey, sipping it slowly while waiting for the optimal moment. It comes when Han collects a substantial pot and stands, indicating a break from the game. He moves toward the bar, stopping two spaces away from you to order.
"Macallan 25," he tells the bartender in English. "Neat."
Your interface activates conversation parameters calibrated specifically for Han's psychological profile:
[APPROACH STRATEGY: DIRECT, NO PRETENSE]
[INTEREST TRIGGER: PROFESSIONAL OPPORTUNITY]
[CREDIBILITY MARKER: SPECIFIC KNOWLEDGE]
"The hand you folded was better than the one you played," you observe quietly, not looking directly at him. "Jack-ten suited would have hit the straight on the river."
Han's posture shifts subtly—surprise controlled but present. He turns slightly toward you. "Most people watching poker try to read the player. You read the cards."
"I read patterns," you correct him. "In cards, in people, in opportunities."
His drink arrives. Han studies you over the rim of his glass. "I'm not looking for a poker partnership."
"Neither am I." You turn to face him fully. "I represent Dominic Toretto. We have a job that requires your specific talents."
The name registers—a flicker of recognition in otherwise carefully controlled features. Your interface detects minute changes in his breathing pattern:
[SUBJECT: HAN SEOUL-OH]
[INTEREST LEVEL: SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASED]
[RECOGNITION CONFIRMED: DOMINIC TORETTO]
[CURIOSITY THRESHOLD: EXCEEDED]
"Toretto operates in Los Angeles," Han notes. "I prefer international venues these days."
"Ten million reasons to make an exception," you counter. "Your cut for three days' work."
Han takes another sip, his composure perfect yet your interface detects the calculation happening behind his calm exterior. "What's the job?"
"Union Depository."
The two words hang between you. Han's expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his eyes—recognition of the score's magnitude.
"Nobody's ever hit it successfully," he observes.
"Nobody had the right team," you respond, echoing words you once said to Gisele.
Han considers this, then places his glass down deliberately. "Why me specifically? Toretto has drivers."
Your interface presents optimal responses, but again you choose authenticity: "Because in another life, you become family to him. Not just crew—family. I'm accelerating a connection that was always meant to form."
The unusual answer intrigues him more than any conventional recruitment pitch could have. Han studies you with new assessment.
"You're either crazy or something else entirely," he observes. "Either way, you're interesting." A pause as he reaches a decision. "When's the job?"
"Forty-eight hours. Private jet standing by at Macau International. We leave tonight."
Han nods once, decision made. "Let me collect my winnings."
Six hours later, as your chartered jet crosses the Pacific, Han sits across from you in the cabin, the darkness outside making the space feel suspended between worlds. He's been quiet, observational, processing the detailed brief you provided on takeoff.
"You know things you shouldn't be able to know," he finally says. "About me, about Toretto, about security systems that aren't public knowledge."
Your interface analyzes his statement:
[OBSERVATION: ACCURATE]
[CONCERN LEVEL: MODERATE BUT CONTROLLED]
[RESPONSE OPTIONS: GENERATING...]
"Yes," you acknowledge simply.
"You're not going to explain how," he concludes, reading your expression.
"Would it matter? The job remains the same. The payment remains the same."
Han considers this, then nods slightly. "Fair enough. But Toretto knows? Whatever you are, he's aware?"
"Dom knows everything relevant," you confirm.
This seems to satisfy him. Han relaxes slightly, his natural calm reasserting itself. "The vehicle modifications you described—the EMP capabilities in particular. Those shouldn't be possible with current technology."
"And yet they exist," you counter. "You'll see them yourself in approximately twelve hours."
Han accepts this with characteristic equanimity. "One last question. After this job—what happens to the team?"
The query reveals more about Han than he intended—his consideration already extending beyond the job itself to the human connections involved. Your interface notes this as confirmation of his potential for crew integration.
"That depends on choices yet to be made," you answer honestly. "But the potential exists for something permanent. Something beyond just the next score."
Han nods slowly, understanding the real offer beneath the surface. As the plane continues its arc across the Pacific, your interface calculates the implications of this new addition:
[TEAM COMPOSITION: ENHANCED]
[HAN SEOUL-OH: INTEGRATION PROBABILITY - HIGH]
[MISSION SUCCESS PROBABILITY: INCREASED 12%]
[CREW COHESION: POTENTIALLY STRENGTHENED]
With each calculated move, the impossible heist becomes increasingly possible, each piece falling into place exactly as you've designed.