The rain came down like whispers.
Not loud. Not angry. Just constant—thin trails that clung to windshields and dripped off rear spoilers like tears from machines.
Tokyo's underworld still hummed, engines purring beneath parking garages and in neon-lit alleys. But for Leonardo DeMarco, it was time to go.
Peace had a flavor, and he had savored enough of it.
Now, it was just bittersweet.
He stood at the edge of the rooftop; umbrella untouched at his side. Han joined him, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, chewing the same dried mango he always did.
"You sure you don't want to stay longer?" Han asked, watching the mist curl between buildings.
Leonardo didn't answer right away.
"I came here for the drift. For the calm between storms. I got what I needed."
Han nodded. "And now?"
Leonardo's gaze sharpened. "Now the wind shifts again."
Back in the garage, Tabane was packing her gadgets into quantum-stabilized cases. She looked up as Leonardo entered, her usual grin subdued.
"Heading out?"
He gave her a faint nod.
"You'll like the next stop," she said. "Europe is beautiful this time of year. Also riddled with clandestine operations and corrupt military contractors. Just your flavor."
Leonardo raised an eyebrow. "I haven't told you where we're going."
She winked. "You didn't have to."
They left the next morning.
No goodbyes, no fanfare. Han handed Leonardo a data chip, nothing more than a whisper:
"Use it when the pieces start moving again."
He didn't ask what it was. He trusted Han's timing more than most clocks.
As the jet lifted over Narita, Leonardo watched Tokyo fall away beneath him like a page turning in slow motion.
Two Days Later – Somewhere Over the Atlantic
Alfred handed him a leather-bound folder. "Updates, sir."
Leonardo scanned it in silence. Interpol chatter. Weapons traffickers in Eastern Europe. Anonymous reports of high-speed convoys spotted near former Soviet installations.
At the bottom: a black-and-white surveillance still.
A face.
Letty Ortiz.
Date: recent.
Leonardo's grip tightened on the folder's edge.
Tabane, seated across the cabin, caught the tension.
"Bad news?"
He closed the folder slowly. "No. Just… early news."
He didn't say it out loud, but he knew what it meant.
The gears were moving again.
The world didn't give second chances. But someone was playing with fate.
And Leonardo DeMarco had learned to listen when the past refused to stay buried.
They touched down in Lisbon under heavy cloud cover.
Their safe house was quiet—one of Koko's properties, maintained by a skeleton crew of loyal agents and ex-spies turned domestic staff.
Tabane immediately installed a tracking array disguised as a weather station on the roof.
Leonardo sat in the study and watched the rain again.
Memories of Tokyo flickered in the back of his mind.
But so did something else.
A pattern.
He laid out photos on the table.
Letty. Reyes. Braga. Owen Shaw.
Disconnected names to the world. But not to him.
Not with the future he remembered.
Not with the whispers of Fast Six coiling just beyond the visible timeline.
The Next Morning
Alfred served tea in silence.
Leonardo sipped slowly. "Reach out to Koko. I want shadow surveillance on Interpol's next raid in Munich."
"Any specific target?" Alfred asked.
"Not yet. But we'll find him. Or her."
Tabane leaned over the table, munching on toast. "Should I prep the portable bunker? You know, just in case the world explodes again?"
Leonardo gave her a small smile. "Not yet. But keep it close."
Night fell again.
Leonardo stood on the terrace, the Lisbon skyline flickering in amber and gold.
He wasn't drifting anymore.
He was positioning.
Waiting.
Because something was coming.
Something fast.
Something furious.
And he would be ready.