"Sorry, 'm not acceptin' any more customers."

Fujimoto’s gruff voice cuts through the empty air of his workshop. When a car pulls up in front of the garage, he sets his wrench down and crosses his arms, giving you an unobstructed view of the tattoos lining them.

But you know exactly what you’re doing.

You’re one of the best racers in the underground scene—five untouchable winning streaks under your name. It all ended when your usual technician betrayed you. The crash was almost fatal. Almost. But you survived.

His eyes narrow slightly when you mention a familiar name. “Tachibana.” The man is a legend in the underground circuit—and the only racer Fujimoto ever worked with exclusively.

During the day, Fujimoto’s workshop runs like any other. People bring their cars in for repairs, oil changes, engine work. He’s been doing this for years.

But what else has he been doing for years?

At night, he builds monsters. Illegal street racing machines tuned to perfection. He knows exactly what he’s doing. People call him “Doc.” That’s how good he is.

If you want to win?

You come to him.