Brian kept glancing toward Guldrin, his curiosity piqued by the child's presence in the shop. Between the messy engine work that everyone seemed to jeer him about and his complete ease with the crew, Guldrin didn't fit any ordinary mold. Brian's mind, accustomed to scanning for inconsistencies and hidden truths, kept throwing up red flags, and it bothered him more than he'd like to admit.
As they continued unloading parts, Guldrin slipped out to the kitchen, muttering something about breakfast not being enough, Brian noticed and casually followed, using his usual excuse to grab a drink before his sandwich. Mia raised an eyebrow as she handed him his usual order, casting a sideways glance at Guldrin who was rummaging through the fridge for more food.
"You're always around, Spilner," Mia teased lightly, but her gaze drifted to Guldrin, who was devouring a slice of toast piled high with scrambled eggs with jelly he grabbed from the fridge. "Something's got you sticking around more than just the sandwiches, right?"
Brian laughed it off, but internally, he was running through what little he'd observed. Guldrin's greasy hands, the mountain of cleaned up car parts scattered around the garage, his intense energy that matched the crew's, and that cat always sticking close to him, it didn't add up. How did a kid this young get into something as niche as car tuning, especially at a garage known for pushing the limits of every build? Not to mention the hidden illegal side of everything.
Turning to Guldrin, Brian feigned a friendly tone. "So, you're quite the little mechanic, huh? Late-night tinkering and all. Where'd you learn to work on engines?"
Guldrin paused, caught off guard by the direct question. His thoughts whirled as he considered the answer. "I… well, I picked things up. You know, from people I've met," he answered, his voice casual, though a bit guarded. He didn't want to give this pretty boy any more information on him, he didn't trust him, and Emily said to follow his gut. "Engines, speed, money, food… it all just makes sense." He flashed a small, almost shy grin, and something in it struck Brian as both genuine and yet elusive.
Brian let out a low hum. "Yeah, I get that. Just comes naturally, doesn't it?"
Dominic walked in then, breaking the tension. He tossed Brian a critical look, clearly not thrilled about the conversation taking place. "Alright, let's get back to unloading. We've got a full day ahead, and we don't need to slow down with distractions." His eyes flicked meaningfully toward Guldrin, then back to Brian.
Mia watched them, her own curiosity sharpening. She could tell Brian was fishing for something, but she hadn't quite figured out what. And she knew Dom wouldn't tolerate anyone digging into the lives of his crew or family without reason.
As they returned to unloading, Brian's mind kept spinning. The pieces didn't line up, and he couldn't shake the sense that there was a mystery hidden in this kid who practically embodied the Toretto family spirit. If Dom was so protective, maybe there was more at stake here than he realized.
The crew worked unloading the parts from Brian's truck. Dom led the charge, directing Vince and Jesse as they lifted various crates and boxes, placing each one on the workbenches and against the walls. Brian assisted, his eyes flickering now and then toward Guldrin, who had taken a quieter role, observing the process with interest but still catching his breath from the long night. As Vince handed over a box, he muttered under his breath, "Kid, next time you want to do an all-nighter, make sure you leave some parts for the rest of us to work on." He gestured to the open boxes stacked in the corner, all the used missing parts, and chuckled.
Guldrin chuckled sheepishly, scratching his head, "Guess I got a bit carried away…"
Brian smiled, his curiosity evident as he handed Guldrin a small box of bolts. "So, what's your name, kid? You know mine, but I don't think we've had a proper introduction."
"Oh, uh, it's Guldrin," he replied, somewhat surprised by the question.
"Guldrin, huh? Unusual name. Where're you from?" Brian asked, keeping his tone casual as they continued to unload the last few crates.
Dom shot Brian a look, but Guldrin answered with a shrug. "You could say I came from far away. Somewhere very different from here." Guldrin had no idea where he came from, but sure wasn't going to tell that to this guy.
Brian nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued as he glanced at Dom, who was clearly watching the conversation with a careful eye. When the unloading was finally complete, Brian took a small step back and glanced around the shop with a grin. "Alright, folks, mission accomplished. And since I'm here…" He turned to Mia, giving her a bright smile, "Could I grab one of those famous tuna sandwiches?"
Mia rolled her eyes but nodded, heading back into the kitchen to make the usual. Vince muttered under his breath, "Only guy who actually likes our tuna sandwiches…" Leon, who just arrived, bumped Vince and said, "It ain't the tuna he is after." He gestured toward Mia and got smacked on the back of his head by an angered Vince. Brian, bite into his sandwich while Dom and the others sorted through the parts. He watched Guldrin out of the corner of his eye, quietly filing away every detail he could. The kid's age was hard to place, but his presence alone stirred a lot of questions, and Vince's casual references to his "appetite" and "weird habits" only made Brian more intrigued.
Once the sandwich was done and the small talk wrapped up, Brian bid his goodbyes, waving off Vince's glare and sending a last nod Mia's way as he climbed back into his truck. As he pulled out of the driveway, he kept an eye on the rearview mirror, noting the figures of Dom and the others still standing near the garage, watching him leave.
The moment he was down the road and out of sight, Brian grabbed his phone, pulling up the notes he'd made on Guldrin's unusual appearance and demeanor. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed out details, Guldrin's name, his strange backstory, and the vague hints Vince had let slip. He'd have to tread carefully; this wasn't just a typical neighborhood kid. The next step was clear: he'd need to check his databases and pull whatever records he could find.
Back at his apartment, Brian booted up his laptop, his police database open as he began to cross-reference Guldrin's name with any records that might offer more information. He ran searches through other unofficial channels too, casting a wide net. His instincts told him that there was something here that went beyond the kid's interest in engines and his abnormal gluttonous behavior toward food.
Brian leaned in, scrutinizing the lines of code and data filling the screen in front of him. Despite a thorough sweep through every database the Bureau had access to, police, social security, government records, even Interpol, he found nothing, not a single trace of this Guldrin kid's existence. This was more than just a case of a teenager being off the grid. The only time he'd ever seen this level of data silence was in cases involving deep undercover operatives, nonofficial protected witnesses, or people in witness protection programs. But Guldrin didn't fit any of those profiles, at least not on the surface.
Tapping his fingers on the desk, Brian considered his options. He'd even resorted to lifting the kid's fingerprints from a half-finished cup he'd left behind at Dom's garage. It had been an impulsive move, but he thought it would settle the nagging feeling in his gut that something about Guldrin Isn't adding up. Yet even that had come up blank, as if the kid's fingerprints didn't exist in any database he had access to. No hits. No history. Nothing.
Leaning back, Brian's gaze shifted to the notes he'd scribbled on a notepad.
"Guldrin: No digital footprint. No identification records. (Purple-black hair)."
He tapped his pen on the words, emphasizing the last part. The odd coloring didn't seem like something you'd find in any average teenager, it wasn't dyed or bleached the way most teens experimented with their hair. It looked natural, the way it shimmered faintly under the sun, a strange, almost ethereal shade that was a deep, velvety black with a hint of violet when the light caught it just right.
Then a memory surfaced, one that made him stop cold. During his officer training, he'd heard stories about certain powerful families that didn't appear in any official record. Families who had enough money, influence, and resources to bypass the usual channels entirely. These weren't just the usual suspects of old money or corporate empires. No, these were people who were said to operate from the shadows, the kind who had old-world connections and seemed to live above the rules of society. They were rarely seen, their wealth wasn't just currency but influence, spanning centuries, even across continents.
He recalled one family in particular, a name whispered by some of the senior agents like a legend, 'Goldblood'. It was the type of family rumored to have rare traits and certain "marks" that identified them. Unnatural hair colors were one of those features, ones that didn't come from a bottle but from the genetics of a lineage that was beyond elite, an echelon where even billionaires looked small-time. But it didn't make sense; there was no logical reason a kid from that world would be here, hanging around Dom's crew in a shabby garage in Los Angeles.
Brian scrawled the name of the family on his pad, only to scratch it out. There was no point in chasing a theory that absurd. Even if it did turn out to be true, there was nothing he could do with it. If the kid was part of 'that' world, then Brian had no business poking around, at least not officially. But as an undercover agent trying to get to the bottom of what was really happening in Dom's garage, he couldn't shake the instinct to keep digging.
"Who are you, Guldrin?" he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing.
Brian ran through his options again. Maybe he was just an eccentric kid, one of those rare souls who somehow slipped through the cracks. No ID, no credit cards, no driver's license, 'He is too young to have a driver's license' nothing to track him. But that still didn't explain why he seemed so confident, so… calm. Even when Vince threw around his usual brand of intimidation, even if it wasn't aimed at the kid, Guldrin didn't flinch. It was almost like he'd dealt with bigger threats before, like he wasn't some regular kid at all.
Closing his laptop, Brian leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling. For now, he had to put the pieces together using what he had. Every instinct told him there was something more going on with this kid, something lurking beneath the surface. But it wasn't his job to follow every gut feeling, not without hard evidence to back it up.
The next day, Brian was back at Dom's garage. He tried to act casual, hanging around as he waited for a chance to observe Guldrin more closely. He watched how the kid moved, how he interacted with the crew, and he noticed something subtle: Guldrin had a way of listening, of taking in the conversation and seeming to know more than he let on. Whenever there was a talk about racing or engines, he wouldn't jump in to boast about his knowledge. Instead, he asked small, specific questions that revealed a deep understanding of mechanics and strategy.
Brian couldn't help but wonder where he'd learned all this. Was he some rich kid who had rebelled, ran away, and decided to slum it in the underground racing scene? But no, there was something more polished about Guldrin, a quiet confidence that seemed ingrained, not developed by living on the streets. He didn't act like someone who had to prove himself; he acted like someone who'd been through things that would make most people break.
If only he knew that this was just Guldrin's very being bleeding through, he is an old soul in the body of a child with no memories.
The garage was bustling as the crew prepped cars for another night of racing, and Brian saw his chance to engage. Guldrin was on his own, checking out a set of tools, playing with a small set of tools. Brian sidled up beside him, grabbing a wrench and pretending to inspect it.
"Guess you know your way around an engine pretty well," Brian said, keeping his tone light.
Guldrin glanced at him, a small smirk playing on his lips. Smiling, he shrugged and kept doing what he was doing before. 'I don't trust this guy, and why is he so interested in me?'
Brian raised an eyebrow, gauging his response. "Not every day you see a kid your age with that kind of knowledge."
"I like learning," Guldrin replied simply, his tone neither evasive nor boastful. "And food…"
Brian nodded, deciding to try fishing for a bit more. "So, what brings you out here to L.A.? Family or something?"
Guldrin's gaze darkened, just a flicker of something unspoken. "Something like that," he replied, before turning back to the tools with a clear intent to shut down the conversation. 'Just have to ask questions that bring up memories, or lack thereof… This is my family… I think?'
Brian took the hint, but he filed it away. There was a story behind those words, something he hadn't quite gotten his hands on. He'd keep his distance for now, but he wouldn't stop trying to understand this mystery that had landed in his lap.
As he drove back that evening, Brian couldn't shake the feeling that he'd stumbled onto something far bigger than he'd anticipated. What had started as a simple investigation into Dom's racing crew was beginning to feel like a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit? Guldrin was the strangest piece of all, out of place, out of touch, and completely out of reach in every official channel Brian could access.
He didn't know what his next move would be, but he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to let this one go. Guldrin had stirred something in him, that part of him that couldn't rest until he had answers.