FAST TEAM is a serialized novel published weekly on Substack—structured like a season of television, but written sentence by sentence for the page. It follows a highly trained DEA FAST team (Foreign-Deployed Advisory and Support Team,) operating in the grey spaces between law enforcement and warfare.
This is an ordered story. It’s built to be read from the beginning.
Begin at Chapter 1 read forward, and let the story build…
Renee drives. Max sits in the passenger seat, phone in hand, reading a message. The highway stretches ahead, late afternoon sun slanting through the windshield.
“Looks like it was fairly pure stuff. The lab said it looked a lot like the stuff we have been tracking out of Afghanistan.”
“Maybe if we bust him now that he seems to be nothing more than a two-bit pusher. And we scare him into giving us some updated information on who is moving the product in town now.”
“This is NOT the day this scumbag was planning on.”
The SUV turns off the highway, heading into a wooded neighborhood subdivision—older homes set back from the road, trees crowding close. The kind of place where neighbors mind their own business.
Renee pulls up on the street a couple doors down from Bobby’s house. Max points ahead through the windshield.
“Just up there.”
“We need some answers from this guy.”
They step out of the vehicle, boots crunching on the cracked pavement. Doors close with muted thuds. They approach the front of Bobby’s house casually—no lights, no backup, just two agents following up on a lead.
They reach the front door. Max knocks. They wait.
Inside Bobby’s bathroom, Bobby is at the sink when the knock echoes through the house. He pulls back the curtain slightly and looks out the bathroom window.
He sees Renee and Max standing at his front door. He notices Max’s holstered weapon and badge on his belt.
“Shit.”
Bobby backs away from the window, then bolts from the bathroom into the next room.
“The fucking cops are here!”
The other guys in the house scramble—grabbing guns, following Bobby through the interior toward the garage.
Outside, an engine revs loud from inside the garage. Renee’s head snaps toward the sound.
“Hang on, I hear something—” She listens. “Stand by...”
She creeps over to the garage window, weapon drawn, peering through the grimy glass.
A massive crash—the garage door explodes outward in a shower of splinters and twisted metal. A Ford F-350 pickup truck blasts through the back of the garage and into the neighbor’s backyard, fishtailing wildly across the lawn.
The truck plows through an above-ground jacuzzi, sending water and debris flying, then crashes through a fence and disappears onto the next street over.
Renee and Max are caught flat-footed.
“Cut through that back yard!”
“What?!”
“Just do it!”
Renee guns the SUV through several backyards in quick succession—taking out fences, clotheslines, a kids’ swing set—tires churning up grass and dirt as they chase a parallel course to intercept.
They burst through a final fence line and skid onto the next street over, tires smoking. Ahead, the F-350 barrels down the road.
The passenger in the pickup opens the back window on the cab and starts firing at Renee and Max. Bullets whiz past, sparking off the pavement.
“We have to contain this. Call for backup!”
Max pulls out his mobile phone, dials 911 while bullets crack the air around them.
“911, this is DEA F.A.S.T. Agent 1783452. We are in a high-speed pursuit of a suspect eastbound on Route 471 at River Junction, requesting backup.”
Renee floors it, riding up on the truck’s bumper. Max grabs the roof handle as she takes a sharp corner. The SUV’s suspension groans.
“Get up on their bumper!”
“Are you crazy?!”
“Go!!”
Renee closes the gap. Max leans out her window and opens fire on the truck, aiming for the tires. Rounds spark off the tailgate.
Inside Bobby’s truck, he ducks bullets, swerving wildly. The truck is all over the road. He holds his gun out the window and fires blindly backward.
Ty—the passenger, one of Bobby’s dealing crew—follows his lead, leaning out and spraying rounds.
Bobby spots two police cruisers blocking the road ahead.
“Shit!”
He turns to Ty. “Get the RPG!”
Ty fumbles in the back seat, then pulls out an RPG launcher. He stands up through the sunroof, balancing against the frame as the truck bounces.
Max sees the weapon come up. His eyes widen. He yells into the phone, “They’ve got an RPG!! Get those officers clear of the road!!”
Down the road, the police scramble into the ditches just as Ty fires. The RPG streaks low, trailing smoke. It connects with the front of one police cruiser—a massive fireball erupts, flipping the vehicle backward into the second cruiser. Both explode in a rolling bloom of flame.
Bobby rams through the burning wreckage, metal screeching, and blows past the dazed officers stumbling from the ditches.
“Yeahhhhh, motherfuckers!!!!”
Inside Renee’s SUV, Max leans into the back, finds a shotgun and road flares. He grabs two flares and grins, returning to the front seat.
“What are you going to do with those?!”
“Pull up next to their driver side. Go!”
Renee floors it past the burning wreckage, closes the gap. She pulls up alongside the truck. Max stands through the sunroof, shotgun in one hand, flares in the other.
Ty sees him emerge and starts to raise his weapon.
Before Ty can fire, Max ditches the shotgun, slams both road flares on the roof of the SUV, igniting them in bright red flame. Ty’s eyes go wide.
Max hurls both flares at him. They bounce off Ty’s chest and tumble into the truck’s cab.
Ty squeals, trying to bat them away. Renee drops back as Max dives into the SUV.
The flares bounce into the front seat next to Bobby. He panics.
“Shit!!!”
He swerves hard, loses control. The pickup buries itself into a ditch at the side of the road, nose-first, airbags deploying with explosive force.
Bobby struggles to open his door—jammed. He crawls out the passenger side, stumbling.
Renee and Max screech to a halt across the street, using the SUV as cover. They exit, weapons drawn. Bullets whiz past as Bobby fires from behind the wrecked truck.
Police cruisers catch up, sirens wailing, and stop on the perimeter, forming a loose blockade.
Max lays down heavy suppressive fire on the driver’s side. Ty stands up in the truck bed and starts spraying bullets wildly.
Renee takes careful aim. She squeezes the trigger. The round catches Ty in the head. He drops instantly.
Bobby—all alone now, surrounded by police and federal agents—throws his gun out into the open.
“Okay, Okay!!”
Max rushes up, slams Bobby to the ground, knee in his back.
“All clear!”
Renee approaches carefully, weapon still raised. She nods. “Nice work.”
Max holds Bobby and looks at the chaos all around them. “What a mess.”
Renee pulls out her cell phone. “I better call Jack.”
Two police officers move in, cuff Bobby, and stuff him into a waiting cruiser.
… To Be Continued in Chapter 8.
“FAST TEAM” is Written by Brian S. Kalata and Rick Shaughnessy. Based on the screenplay by Brian S. Kalata & Eric Hooge and the teleplay by Brian S. Kalata & Rick Shaughnessy. Copyright 2026
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