Lyle and Charlie went way back. They had collaborated on numerous jobs before.
The electronic upgrades and battery arrays for the van were specifically for Lyle's use.
After a few pleasantries, Charlie hustled Lyle and his damaged bike into the warehouse.
He then introduced the two men.
"Hey, Lyle. This is Hunter. He's a skilled mechanic handling the vehicle mods."
"Hunter, this is Lyle."
Lyle might have looked a bit socially awkward, but he wasn't stupid. He had worked with Charlie enough to know the drill.
He smiled and shook Hunter's hand. "Hi. Just call me Lyle."
"I bet you've heard of Napster, right?"
"Actually, I'm the real creator. Shawn Fanning stole the code and the idea while I was asleep."
Charlie looked at Lyle helplessly. It had been years, but Lyle still repeated this story to everyone he met.
Charlie didn't know if it was true, nor did he care. His only focus was finding Steve and getting revenge.
In his past life, Hunter had been a computer science student—though a mediocre one who forgot most of what he learned after graduation.
He didn't know if Lyle's claim was true either.
But that didn't stop him from playing along.
"Hunter. I specialize in vehicle repair and modification."
"By the way, I ride too."
Lyle's eyes lit up.
He didn't actually like motorcycles that much. As a computer genius, Lyle was a borderline shut-in. But in America, being a nerd didn't get you dates.
Lyle had heard that girls liked "cool, manly men," so he dropped a fortune on a custom bike to boost his appeal.
"Awesome! We should ride together sometime!" Lyle beamed.
Hunter nodded with a smile, though internally he was picturing Lyle crashing into the warehouse wall just minutes ago.
Seeing them hit it off, Charlie took charge.
"Lyle, Hunter has finished most of the mechanical mods."
"I bought all the equipment you asked for."
"Now, you two figure out how to install the servers and power supply."
Lyle was clearly a night owl. Despite the late hour, he was wide awake.
"No problem. Leave it to me."
Charlie pulled Lyle aside for a quick, hushed conversation, then left the warehouse.
Hunter didn't sabotage the work. He knew Steve—Charlie's target—was cunning and paranoid.
This van was just a tool for the initial phase.
So, Hunter worked diligently. He communicated with Lyle, installing the racks and wiring exactly as requested. He even fixed a few minor issues on the used van that weren't part of the contract.
By the time Hunter declared the Dodge Ram 3500 Van "reborn," it was already early morning.
"Yawn!"
Lyle had been yawning for two hours, but to his credit, he stayed up to keep Hunter company until the end.
"Done!"
Seeing Hunter packing his tools, Lyle jolted awake.
"Is it finished?"
"Yeah."
Hunter nodded. He had already exchanged contact info with Charlie yesterday. The remaining $10,000 would be paid after Charlie inspected the vehicle.
"Lyle, I'm heading out."
"Tell Charlie if he's not satisfied with anything, just call me. I'll come back and fix it."
With his enhanced stats, pulling an all-nighter barely affected Hunter.
But the work was done.
Charlie wasn't here, and Hunter knew a cautious thief wouldn't just invite a stranger into the inner circle immediately.
To join the team, Hunter needed an opening.
Lyle, rubbing his sleepy eyes, nodded. "Got it. I'll tell him."
"Here's my email and phone number," Hunter said, handing over a slip of paper. "Sometime, I'd love to learn a thing or two about computers from you."
Lyle, eager for validation (and maybe a riding buddy), was flattered.
"Sure thing! If it's about computers, I know a bit."
With contact info exchanged, Hunter mounted his old motorcycle and rode back to his apartment.
Once home, he checked the subtle markers he had left on the door and windows.
Undisturbed.
He ate a quick meal, took a shower, and collapsed into a deep sleep.
While Hunter slept, Charlie Croker was walking into a high-end locksmith company in Los Angeles.
He was there to see a blonde beauty.
"Stella, I know you don't want to see me right now."
"But I had to come. I have to tell you something. I found him."
Stella Bridger.
She looked at Charlie with cold, suppressed anger.
"Who?"
Charlie knew Stella blamed him for her father's death a year ago. She was John Bridger's daughter, a renowned expert in her own right.
Stella ran a legitimate security consultancy. There wasn't a lock, safe, or vault in the world she couldn't open.
Legally, of course.
"I found Steve," Charlie said, his voice low. "He's right here in LA."
"Hiding under our noses. No wonder I couldn't find him in Europe."
"He's living under the alias 'Mr. Frazelli' in a massive mansion in the hills."
"According to my intel, he still has most of the gold he stole from us last year."
"Stella, I'm going to take him down."
"I'm going to get revenge for John."
"And I need your help."
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