After they save the city and stopped the world's biggest heist.
The bad guys continue on their next adventure.
Raising princess.
Which isn't going to easy as it looks when sHe gets older and lots of obstacles coming their way.
But there's nothing th...
The sun burned down on Los Angeles like a furnace as Princess tightened her black driving gloves.
The Nissan GT-R R35 gleamed under the morning light, its silver skin almost dazzling. She stood beside it, heart thudding, pink ponytail fluttering slightly in the dry breeze.
Wearing a Black leather jacket with pink racing stripes, Hot pink tank top, Dark ripped jeans, Black combat boots with pink laces, Fingerless gloves and Pink-tinted aviator sunglasses.
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This was it.
The Run.
From Los Angeles to New York.
Cross-country.
One chance.
$25 million at the finish line.
Enough to clear all the Bad Guys' debt — and then some.
The Bad Guys had made some enemies before they turned over a new leaf enemies who weren't willing to forgive or forget. When Mr. Wolf told her, eyes full of regret, that they owed $25 million to a vicious mob, Princess made up her mind. She was going to save them, no matter what it took.
Even if that meant entering The Run — the most dangerous illegal race across America.
Wolf had tried to talk her out of it. "Princess, it's suicide," he warned, pacing in front of her bedroom the night before.
Snake just said, "Bet fifty bucks she wins," grinning lazily from the couch.
Webs had hugged her so tight (against her paw) she could barely breathe.
"Just... just come back in one piece, ok kid."
Piranha? He just gave her an entire backpack of emergency snacks.
"You're gonna need 'em, chica!"
Now she was on her own.
"Alright, darling," she muttered in her British accent, slipping into the GT-R. "Time to make history."
The flag girl stepped onto the street, twirling the checkered flag. Engines revved like wild animals. Princess squeezed the wheel.
"3... 2... 1... GO!!"
As the starting horn blared, engines all around her roared to life a furious, deafening chorus.
Princess slammed the gear stick forward, tires screaming as she peeled out from the starting line.
Stage 1: Los Angeles
The city blurred around her buildings flashing past like knives of glass and steel.
Traffic thickened ahead, but Princess weaved through with surgical precision, the GT-R humming beneath her fingertips.
Around her, racers jostled and fought for position a black Camaro tried to sideswipe her, but Princess just smirked and dropped two gears.
