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bdbriggs · 11 months

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Two Truths and a Lie - FAHC

(holy shit guys I wrote a Fake AH Crew fic for the first time since 2020) It was always going to end this way.

The end is the true beginning.

It begins with a card.

Two truths and a lie. The lie is not the one you expect.

Michael idly flips the card between his fingers. It’s a pretty thing, creamy white with golden script, bright white lace-like designs sprawling across the length of it. Two words on one side: be there. An address, date, and time on the other. What Michael should do is throw the card out and pretend he never saw it, pretend that it got lost in the copious junk mail that plagues his apartment mailbox. He should stay on the far, far side of town on that day and time, avoid sticking his nose into whatever is going on. He should expect that it’s a trap, a setup, a bad fuckin’ idea.

He should do a lot of things. Curiosity and cats, and all that, but here’s the thing; nobody ever remembers the end of that saying. Curiosity killed the cat, yes, but satisfaction brought it back.

Sue him. He’s curious.

And why shouldn’t he be? An inconspicuous little business card lands on his welcome mat. Solicitors leave pamphlets and business cards and shit by his door all the time—this one shouldn’t be special. The golden script, though. That makes him pause. Makes him consider. Makes him weigh his options carefully.

And in the end, there’s really only one thing to do.

See, gold is a recurring theme in Los Santos. It’s nothing out of the ordinary considering the millionaires, billionaires, movie stars, models, gold diggers, yada yada—the city is full of rich folks and folks wanting to be rich. Every third guy on the street has a gold watch. Every other lady has something gold—a ring, a necklace, whatever. Movie stars and gang leaders and girls dressed to the nines—they’re all flaunting golden jewelry, exotic cars, fancy clothes.

So why, then, did the color gold become such a tell in the city’s underground?

Michael can’t pinpoint the moment it started. Spray paint, metal plating, smoke, and ink. Something dripping gold sunk its fingers into the city in a way Michael’s never seen before. And while he hasn’t been in Los Santos overly long, he can tell you it’s not the norm. It wasn’t like this in Liberty City or in Jersey, certainly, and it wasn’t like this when he first arrived in LS. The city was gritty. Grey. The pollution is so thick you can feel it between your teeth, like grit after a fight or soot from an explosion. The cement buildings are grey, grey like the fog over the ocean, like the bleak alleyways and bleaker lives of the average people who live here. The first touch of gold was like a breath of fresh air in comparison.

Something stirs in the city of saints, and Michael wants to be there when it wakes.

Jack’s cleaning up shop when she sees it. A little white business card, fluttering in the cool breeze provided by one of three fans she’s got spread in her garage. Every time there’s a heat wave, power cuts out in her neighborhood. There’s little to do besides power up the generator, grab a beer, and settle down to work on her cars. Machines are easy. People, less so. It’s for this reason Jack owns a garage—people drive cars, sure, but they don’t pay her to talk. They pay her to fix.

It’s odd, then, when this little white card flutters towards her, skipping along the floor with a bounce in its step that Jack hasn’t seen in years. This city has a way of beating people down. Even the lucky ones like her have fallen on rough times, and the golden script on the card is therefore what catches her attention.

Four words: I have an idea. A location, date, and time on the other side. Jack considers the card carefully before slipping it in the pocket of her shorts.

It’s a bad idea, is what it is. There’s no reason she should go looking for trouble. Times are hard, even for the lucky ones like her. But the gold script gives her pause.

There’s been a shift in the city, these last few years. Jack has lived here long enough to have felt it. It’s no different than a little rolling earthquake; the rolling sensation means it’s far away, but it shifts the ground and everything on top of it. Sometimes things fall, and sometimes the walls or pavement crack, but life goes on around the reminders of that little split-second event.

The evidence remains, however. Something has settled into the city, cracking the pavement and the walls, and slowly the cracks have filled with gold. Kintsugi, it’s called, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Few people would look at the withered and broken city of saints and deem it worthy of repair, but something has. Gold slithers into the city like snakes, and it leaves its mark on things. An influx of exotic cars. Looser lips at the bar by the racetrack. The wealthy place bets like never before, on cars, on racers, and Jack notices.

If she has a chance to see where all this gold is coming from—why shouldn’t she?

Jeremy’s lip curls up into a snarl when a waitress brings them a drink with a business card underneath it. She’s already disappeared back into the throng of the club, or they would have called her out on it. Jeremy lifts their beer in one hand and flicks the business card with the other, watching as it twirls away with a flash of gold.

Wait.

Jeremy reaches out with the toe of one boot and slides it back to their chair, picking it up carefully and quickly. The card itself is white with lacy designs spread across it. On one side is a time and location. The other side reads, Nice job out there =) Bored yet?

It draws an honest-to-god snort out of Jeremy. They take a sip from their beer and tuck the card in their pocket.

Not many people know what Jeremy does. Rimmy Tim is a fair bit different from Jeremy, with the wild getup and crazy colors and loud vehicles. Rimmy Tim just finished a job up in Sandy Shores, their fists deployed against a handful of rednecks with guns and drugs. Jeremy, on the other hand, because that’s who they are tonight—Jeremy has a job as a pizza delivery person and two clueless roommates they’re lucky enough to count as friends.

So who in the world figured out that Jeremy is Rimmy Tim, and vice versa?

It should be upsetting. It is, to a degree, but not in the way Jeremy would expect. Whoever sent the business card clearly wants something. The location and time are evidence of that. And Rimmy Tim just had a spectacular time with a drug bust. It’s more than likely that whoever is behind this wants their particular skillset. But why approach Jeremy, when Rimmy Tim is plenty easy to find on the frequent jobs they take? Why go through the effort?

The gold inscription on the card calls to mind a particular golden gun. Rimmy Tim has only seen it a few times, and never the person wielding it. It’s small. Silenced. And the hands holding it never miss a shot. The golden gun means a swift end to whatever opposes it, and not in the way that a bullet means death. No; that golden gun stops gang wars in their tracks, assassinates the most corrupt politicians, brings genuine fear into the eyes of the LSPD.

Jeremy sips their beer and steadies themself. Whoever is behind that golden gun is worth standing beside. Things in Los Santos are about to get interesting.

Trevor stares slack-jawed at the wallet in his hands. He’s got half a mind to chuck it off the pier and into the waves below, because it’s way too good to be true. Muggings don’t usually score him one thousand dollars. Either his unfortunate victim was loaded, or this is a setup. He shuffles through the bills quickly, and ah-ha! There’s a little white business card nestled between them.

Want more? It says in smooth golden script. The other side simply lists an address along with a date and time.

Trevor definitely should throw the wallet off the pier. He does, upon further consideration, but only after tucking the bills and card into his pocket. He may be an idiot, but he isn’t stupid enough to pass up what appear to be ten real hundred-dollar bills. After a quick scan of his surroundings, Trevor steps back into the crowds and blends right in. His victim is a quarter mile up the beach, and the LSPD have already given up their search for the mugger. Unfortunate, really.

Could his so-called victim have been the person behind the gold and white card? He wasn’t anything special looking. Messy brown hair so light it bordered on dark blonde, expensive sunglasses, nice clothes. One of Los Santos’ elite, or more likely the kid of one of Los Santos’ elite. Some rich shmuck with more money than sense who poked his nose where it didn’t belong. At least, that’s what Trevor understood from looking at the guy, and his intuition is rarely wrong. See, Trevor’s good at figuring people out. He’s good at finding what makes them tick, at learning how they move and act, and he’s even better at using that knowledge against them. Muggings are easy, then; give him a target, and he can have them all figured out after a few hours of observation. This guy was no different.

So why, then, is Trevor so unnerved by the presence of a little white business card?

The golden script gets his brain going. He pulls out the card again and turns it over and over in his hands, studying it. It’s high quality. The golden text is actually engraved into the creamy white paper, and a textured finish has been added overtop the card in a pattern akin to lace. Someone spent a pretty penny to make this card.

Someone with more money than sense.

Trevor considers this. Considers the fact that this job was a setup, and not an ordinary mugging. His judgement of character is rarely wrong—but perhaps he saw what was meant to be seen, and not what was truly there.

He smiles and whistles as he walks back to his apartment. It’s not the end of the world; he’ll just have to get a second look. And he has a convenient little card that gives him such an opportunity.

Matt is going to scream.

Something’s wrong with his tech. And that’s decidedly not normal. He’s built eighty percent of this stuff himself. He knows his computers and his network better than the back of his hand. Nothing should ever go wrong with it to the point he can’t fix it.

Matt curses under his breath and locks his door. His roommates are home and he’d really rather not have them barge into his, uhm, gaming setup while shit’s going haywire. His lights turn off suddenly, plunging the room into darkness. Matt flicks the switch on and off a few times—no power. And it’s odd, too, because he can hear Jeremy and Trevor playing a video game in the living room. The apartment itself still has power.

It’s just Matt’s setup that doesn’t.

The thought sends an icy chill down his spine. He’s compromised. Someone found his location and managed to out-hack the hacker. Names and faces flit through his mind along with hastily cobbled-together escape plans. Who could have figured him out? Honestly, the weakest links in the chain are his roommates, but he’s been so careful and neither Jeremy nor Trevor have seemed off lately. And they’re perfectly fine in the next room, arguing loudly over Halo.

So who…?

Without warning, the printer comes to life with a godawful clattering sound. Matt shrieks and whirls around to face the offending machine. Fuck, he needs a new printer. If that thing made his whole goddamn side of the apartment short out…

But no, it appears someone is fucking with him after all. The printer happily slops ink on the fake ID he’d been in the middle of designing, spitting the card out with a horrid rattling scream. Matt picks the card up with shaky fingers and flinches when the lights flick on again, allowing him to read what’s been printed.

Lovely little place, it reads in golden ink. The other side lists a day and location.

The computer flickers back to life along with the rest of Matt’s tech. All of his screens should be displaying CCTV footage, but each individual camera’s footage has been replaced with a stylized sunglasses emoji, gold lines stark against a black backdrop.

Matt sits down at his desk and smiles sharply at the screens. Game on, motherfucker.

Jack scouts the area from her Entity. It’s a nondescript little building up the Great Ocean Highway, well outside of town. She pulls into the nearby gas station at sunset, buys a soda and some snacks, and settles in for a stakeout. She doesn’t plan to go in, but she plans to see who does. She’s got a gun in each of her thigh holsters, a full tank of gas, and a pair of sharp eyes that miss nothing.

The sun sinks below the waves and casts a lovely pink hue across the sky. The light fades slowly to purple, then grey, then the inky blue of night. Stars wink into existence. The time stamped on the white business card in golden script fast approaches, and one man approaches the building across the highway on foot.

Michael eyes the run-down building by the side of the highway as he approaches. It’s old and worn and grey, and from the looks of it, nobody’s been living or working there for a long while. The windows that aren’t boarded up have been shattered. Headlights from the highway illuminate a sea of glass on the concrete foundation. The back corner of the building is nearty tucked into the hillside with a high concrete wall with thick barbed wire warding off any attempts at break-ins. He can’t see inside, but Michael would bet money that there’s no easy way into that back corner from the inside, either.

And Michael has never been the lockpick kind of guy.

He hefts his rocket launcher with a grin, aims, and fires.

Matt’s in.

Despite being abandoned for twelve years and eight months, someone has kept a CCTV camera running in a little decrepit building on the coast. The building itself used to belong to some loan servicing company that went out of business. Everything useful seems to have been stolen from the building, according to LSPD reports responding to break-ins. Except—Matt found plans, blueprints for a room in the back of the building. It has no entryway.

Seems like someone had something to hide.

Matt watches the camera like a hawk for days leading up to the date printed on the card. Nothing changes until five minutes prior to the printed time, when an explosion rocks the building and debris tumbles down the hallway. Through the opening provided, a solitary figure slips inside.

Trevor slinks through the shadows and into the previously sealed room. Someone had blown it open from the far side, causing the rest of the wall to cave in. It allows Trevor to get inside easily. The explosion was a surprise, yes, but Trevor knew there was a possibility of others being here, of this being another part in the setup he’s allowed himself to walk into. The thousand bucks he got the other day will keep him and his roommates fed for several months, easy, but if there’s more…

Well. Trevor knows people. And he knows how to keep them away from his score. Whoever fired the rocket will wait for a response before entering. The woman staking out the place at the gas station has a loud car that he’ll hear long before it approaches his position. And the buff guy with the gun and parachute backpack crouched high on the hillside above will have to get past both of them in order to get down here. Unless—unless they’re teamed up. Shit.

A thump on the roof has Trevor regretting every decision that led him here. He pulls out his pistol and backs himself into a corner, surveying the room around him. Nothing stands out, no briefcase, no vault, no treasure. Nothing to hide behind. He grits his teeth and flicks off the safety.

Jeremy’s pretty sure they’ve got about thirty seconds before the guy with the rocket launcher reaches the building. So, they do the most stupid thing and jump in ahead of him, hoping to secure whatever’s in the sealed room and make a stand inside. Maybe not the brightest idea when they’re up against a rocket launcher, but they’re banking on the hope that rocket-launcher-guy wants this score as badly as they do. Jeremy dives into the room and eats a bullet with their vest.

“Oh, ass!” Jeremy shrieks. They scramble further into the room, away from rocket-launcher-guy, only to roll out of the way of a second shot. Fuck, oh fuck, the gunman is inside the room!

An engine roars. Heavy footfalls in the rubble outside draw closer, closer, and Jeremy swallows thickly. Rocket-launcher-guy comes into view with his own gun in hand, and while it briefly points at Jeremy, it quickly trains on the gunman further in the room.

Fuck. Jeremy whips out their own pistol and points it at the gunman, wincing at the realization that a CCTV camera is pointed directly at the commotion. Not only that, but there are more footsteps making their way through the building.

Oh, they are so fucked.

Jack’s glad she brought multiple guns. She trains one on the tall and thin gunman in the corner of the room, and one on the garishly colored guy crouched in the rubble to her right. The man who’d blown the building open snarls at her, and aww, isn’t that cute?

“What the fuck is going on here?” Jack demands. “What’s the big idea?”

The gunman in the corner shrinks in on himself. Poor guy has three guns trained on him at the moment. Jack doesn’t envy him.

“Fuck!” the guy blurts. “I came for the score! Jesus Christ, you guys can have it!”

The gunman to Jack’s right freezes. “I’m sorry, Trevor?!”

Trevor, if that’s his name, points his gun at the walking fashion disaster. “Jeremy?” he demands.

As if by some unspoken agreement, both of them move. Trevor points his gun at Jack; Jeremy points their gun at rocket-launcher-guy.

“Dude,” rocket-launcher-guy says. “Which of you told me to be here? This is confusing as fuck.”

Nobody answers.

Rocket-launcher-guy does a double take. “Wait, seriously? Then who the fuck was it?”

“Wasn’t me,” Jeremy says. “But I bet you it’s whoever is watching through the CCTV camera.”

Jack looks over her shoulder and, sure enough, there’s a camera pointed right at them. Shit.

“Nope,” a distorted male voice says through whatever shitty intercom system was left in the building. “I also would like to know what the hell is going on.”

Jack lowers her guns. “Did none of you send the business card?”

Rocket-launcher-guy lowers his own gun and fishes a white card out of his jacket pocket. “Not me,” he says.

Jeremy and Trevor lower their guns and pull out their own white cards.

“I got one, too,” the guy on the intercom says. “Someone used my printer to print it out.”

Jack holsters her guns and frowns. “What was the score, anyways?”

Trevor shrugs. “I dunno,” he admits. “I mugged a guy with a grand in his wallet, plus the card. I figured there’d be money in this place.”

Jack fishes out her own card and shows it to them. “That’s not what mine said.”

Rocket-launcher-guy crosses his arms. “So there’s nothing here? Well, that fuckin’ blows.”

“Aww, Michael,” a new voice coos. Jack whirls around and has both guns up and aimed at the newcomer before he can blink. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing.”

Jack hears the sounds of guns being raised behind her, but the newcomer seems completely unintimidated. He leans back against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, smirk on his face. He’s got messy brown hair, a blue dress shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He’d look completely uninteresting if not for the golden sunglasses, the golden gun holstered at his hip, the golden watch on one wrist.

“You’re the guy I mugged,” Trevor says. “Who the hell are you? And what do you want?”

The golden boy grins. “I had this idea,” he says. “There’s this lovely little place that’s never successfully been broken into. I’ve robbed every other bank in the city. I’m bored. I want more. And I need a crew if I’m going to pull this off.” His grin turns sharp, menacing. “Will you be there?”

Los Santos has a way of beating even the most stubborn and resilient of its citizens down. It’s easy to get lost in the grit and grey of the city, what with the pollution and fog and bleak concrete everywhere you look. But something, someone, looked at the city and saw an opportunity. A fresh start.

The end is the true beginning. And it was always going to end this way.

The true beginning, then, was not with the card.

#fahc #achievement hunter #fake ah crew #rooster teeth

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

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Anime protag's best you say..... how about some good ol magical girl FAHC au? (leaning towards my grubby paws pairing of jeremwood but im good with whatever you come up with!)

!!! XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

My first inclination is to tie this into my favorite Battle Buddies backstory for these two dummies?

(Partners in a government agency/spec ops group in the military and due to Typical Suspense/Thriller plot they’re betrayed by their agency and one or both of them is forced to fake their deaths?

If only one of them fakes their death, the one who didn’t goes underground to expose/get revenge on the people behind the betrayal and so on and so forth where they meet up again in Los Santos.

If they both fake their deaths it’s either because they’re on that plan together and do the whole expose baddies/get revenge on baddies thing together or they fake their deaths without letting the other one in on their plans to protect them but because they’re too determined to be a freaking Hero about things they think the other is dead and react accordingly, which leads to the Sad Hero on their Mission of Revenge and whatnot. Because Drama.)

So let’s go with that, using the version in which Ryan finds out their agency/spec ops group is up to Something Bad and supposedly killed on a mission that Jeremy didn’t know about/was assigned to for whatever reason. (He was injured and their superiors insisted Ryan could handle things himself and so on.)

And!

For added Drama/Angst let’s say this happened relatively early into their partnership and Ryan had this habit of wearing covering his face with anything from balaclavas/scarves/various protective face masks/face paint because reasons?

He played around with the pattern/design for his face paint a fair bit from basic camo variations to these very simple skull designs? Claimed it was to avoid showing his face when it came to security cameras and the whatnot, but really it’s more to with being a melodramatic bastard, so yeah.

Anyway, the point is Jeremy never really saw his face? The only times he did he was concussed or shitfaced drunk or generally in no shape to really take in the grandeur of it and all, okay.

Injured on a mission and Ryan ripping his mask/whatever off his face (and the worry/fear in his voice Jeremy remembers) because that’s what one does in case of your partner being seriously injured and you want to show your Concern. (DRAMA.)

Jeremy showing up on Ryan’s doorstep after a night out drinking – to celebrate or trying to drown out bad memories and whatnot – and the soft tone of voice Ryan would get as he got him situated on his couch with a glass of water and some aspirin to let him sleep it off. (Jeremy waking up the next morning with no memory of how he got there and Ryan either puttering around somewhere trying out a new face paint pattern or long gone because he had a meeting or something to do, but he’d leave a note for Jeremy to let him know where he’d gone and remind him to drink more water and generally mother-hen him.)

ANYWAY.

Jeremy never really saw Ryan’s face, but they were getting to be good friends. (Jeremy thought so, at least?) They made a good team in the field, meshed almost from the beginning and while he’s still not sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part he thought they could have been something more. (Probably all in his head, though. Adrenaline and such.)

But then the mission Ryan didn’t come back from, and the way their superiors acted all...suspicious about things afterwards. Make him uneasy, but he sticks with them a little longer because he doesn’t know what else to do, right?

Still reeling from Ryan’s death and it makes it easier for the baddies responsible to get rid of him, you know? (They’re not sure how much Jeremy knows or suspects, and really, it’s just safer for them and their schemes if he’s out of the picture.)

Send him on these missions solo. Tell him they’re working on finding him a new partner and Jeremy is fine with the delay because he’s not sure he wants one after Ryan? (Like, if he plans on sticking around he’ll need one, but maybe he should think about a new career and anyway, anyway, working solos is better is probably for the best. No one to get attached to that way.)

The baddies send Jeremy after some of their...associates. People they’ve made deals with/had business dealings with as they built up their own power base and secured their foothold in the agency/spec ops group/wherever. But now they feel they don’t need these associates anymore and they’re a bit of a liability. Could betray them if they feel they’ve been slighted, and off goes Jeremy to “deal with” them, which hey.

If Jeremy kills their associates, that’s one less problem to worry about. If their associates kill Jeremy, that’s a different sort of problem altogether they don’t have to worry about.

But Jeremy’s harder to kill than they expect, comes back from all these missions of theirs more or less in one piece. There are a few close calls, serious injuries, but he just keeps coming back.

And then one day they send him after an associate who has an interest in the arcane and other similar things. Bit of a hobby, next to their warmongering and so on. (That’s not what he’s being sent to their base for, though, no. Just a little tidbit of info on the target in case it comes in handy during the course of the mission. And maybe to make them seem more...unhinged? Something like that, who knows.)

They babble, when Jeremy’s got them in his sights, had to get up close and personal because goddamn they’re paranoid. Paranoid and cowardly and they know why Jeremy’s there. Has been keeping tabs on the baddies, know they’re taking care of loose ends using Jeremy to do it and they tell him everything they know.

(Bitter and resigned because of course Jeremy’s going to kill them, so why not tell him what they know? Maybe it’ll get them some revenge from beyond the grave if their dutiful little weapon goes back and kills them as well.)

They tell Jeremy about the baddies and oh, did you really think it was a coincidence your partner died on that one mission? Surely there were signs something was off before he took that mission, no?And Jeremy, he’s been going over that again and again in his own head because there were, right? Ryan was a damn good operative, good at his job and everything along those lines, but Jeremy knew him. (Thought he did.)

And Ryan had been acting strangely shortly before that mission. Distant, distracted. squirrely as hell for him.

Had this look on his face when he stopped by to see Jeremy in medical before he left for the mission, conflicted as hell before he shrugged it off and teased Jeremy about being an invalid for a bit, joked around and acted like nothing was wrong.

Then Ryan left on that mission and never came back and Jeremy’s been kicking himself for not trying harder to find out what was bothering Ryan. (He tried a couple of times, worried about Ryan, but he didn’t want to push too hard. Put Ryan on the defensive.)

So.

And now this asshole is ripping that wound open again (not too hard to do because it’s definitely not healing right) and making Jeremy question everything he thought he knew. (Thought he could trust his superiors, but they’ve been acting suspicious, haven’t they? Sending him on mission after mission after mission like this and very little downtime in between. (Keep telling him they’re shorthanded and all, but there’s something to it he doesn’t quite believe.)

The asshole tells Jeremy everything they know, which just brings up more questions, and then Jeremy kills them because that’s what he was sent there to do. (The asshole deserved it, but it still makes Jeremy feel dirty in a way none of the his past missions have. The ones when he worked with Ryan at least, because these past few weeks, months, feel wrong somehow.)

He investigates the asshole’s office, finds this odd little box locked away in a safe.

Some kind of stone? Weird sheen to it, like it’s sucking in light around it and all. Curious little locking mechanism – a puzzle?

Whatever it is, it doesn’t have to do with his mission here so he pouts it back in the safe.

He’s after the rest of the safe’s contents anyway. Stack of files he’s meant to burn – he pulls his phone out and takes photos because reasons – and USB drives he’s meant to destroy. (He makes copies.)

As soon as all that’s taken care of Jeremy turns to leave because he’s on a time-table – and pauses. Turns back to look at that strange little box because there’s something about it, you know? One of those things your brain just latches on to for whatever reason, won’t let go of.

Jeremy glances around, but no one’s there to see.

The guards are either dead or oblivious (for now), and the asshole he was sent here to kill is dead.

No one to see him pocket the strange little box for no reason he can explain before he leaves the same way he got in.

Reports back to his superiors like a good little weapon – that phrase sticks in his head – and then goes home.

Crappy apartment he doesn’t like – had been planning on moving, but that was back before Ryan died. Now it’s just. Something he’ll get around to eventually.

Jeremy sets the strange little box down on his dresser and forgets about it for the next few days. (Debriefings and sifting through the files and whatnot he brought back with him. Realizing his superiors are Up To Something and that Ryan’s death is absolutely involved. Does some digging and all that.)

Gets home late one night, moonlight filtering through the bedroom window and he’s feeling tired, sluggish after a long day. Tracks the moonlight to where it lands on the strange little box and he reaches for it, because hey.

Why not try to figure out the locking mechanism while he’s this exhausted?

OR maybe he’s trying to figure out what the faint pattern the lid of the box is – faded and scuffed all to hell like it’s had a hard life/existence. Chipped corners like it’s been dropped (or thrown?) and really just kind of beaten up. (Like him.)

Traces the pattern and frowns when he realizes one line of it curves down and around, follows the edge of the lid down a meandering sort of patch to the bottom of the box. Forgets about the paper cut he got at HQ earlier, presses hard enough to reopen it and some of the blood gets caught in the groove of the pattern he’s tracing, because of course it does.

Doesn’t notice the way the box slowly warms up in his hands – tired, you know, slow on the uptake – and just thinks it’s a result of transferred body heat.

But no, no.

Arcane shit and all that, Jeremy’s blood and a puzzle in the pattern and the damn box coming to life in his hands. Warms up to the point it gets hot – too hot for comfort and the moment that registers in his exhausted mind, Jeremy drops the stupid thing.

Yelps in surprise because what the hell? Watches it tumble end over end on the bedroom carpet before there’s a very audible crack and a glimmer of light as it rolls under his bed. (His mind playing tricks on him?)

He swears he saw the lid pop open before it went under his bed, but when he goes to pick it up – has to wedge himself between his dresser and the bed to do it, get down on his hands and knees and honestly he’s both too tired and too old for that shit – it’s closed.

Shut tight, no sign of what caused that light he knows he saw (did he?) or how the hell it got so hot it burned him. (Or was that another trick his mind is playing on him because it feels cool to the touch now, room temperature if anything.)

Jeremy crawls back out and stares at the strange little box in his hand.

Tiny thing, really.

Sits neatly in the palm of his hand and not much to look at, really. No reason why he’d fucking steal it from a target, haul it all the way back here. (And yet.)

Tells himself he’s an idiot – and tosses it back on the dresser and goes off for a shower before bed.

Forgets about it because his superiors send him on another mission, but this time it doesn’t have anything to do with their Secrets. Just a run-of-the-mill mission, nothing odd about it.

So of course that’s when he starts hearing things?

Starts out as faint rustling noises while he’s watching his target. Nothing too strange since he’s hiding out in a fancy as hell garden. Freaking miniature jungle shoved into a relatively small space and a nightmare for the guy’s security, he’s sure. (Plenty of spots for someone like him to hide.)

Most likely a squirrel or something running around, but he keeps an eye out just in case.

As time goes by the noises get louder, more frequent. Too big for a squirrel, but he can’t see what’s causing the noise. Glances around when it sounds like it’s right next to him -

And then just.

Stops.

Nothing.

Soft little thump like whatever was making the noise landed a jump nearby, but he can’t see anything.

Makes him a little uneasy, but his watch buzzes against his wrist,

Ignores the sound of something following him, soft brush of fur against his arm, quiet warning hiss when a guard – who isn’t where he’s supposed to be, btw - almost takes his head of with a startled punch rounding a corner.

Pretends he doesn’t hear that oh, fuck me snarl of a fully pissed off cat when he ends up fighting the damn guard or the softly satisfied meow when he gets the better of the bastard. (And never a damn cat in sight.)

No.

Jeremy’s got a mission to finish and he does, even if he’s lost his goddamned mind.

Takes care of the target and rifles through his office and the hidden safe just to be thorough before setting the damn place on fire – part of the mission? No. Something he does because God knows Ryan would have wanted him to do it? Maybe.

Gets the fuck out of there and heads home acting like he’s not being haunted by a fucking cat – or you know, hallucinating one, whichever.

Tries to pretend it doesn’t get worse over the next few days, whatever it is getting louder and more insistent. More deliberate about the noises and all that.

(Feel of a paw on his face pulling him out of sleep when he passed out on his couch, neck at an awkward angle sure to give him a crick that would put him in a foul mood the rest of the day. Something bumping against his shins when he’s getting ready to hit the gym and thinks he won’t need a jacket because it’s not that cold out. Flash of pain on his ankle when he almost – almost! - says something he shouldn’t to one of the people he thinks (knows) got Ryan killed, that kind of thing.)

And then on his way home he runs across this little stray cat.

Tiny thing, long black fur (dirty as hell and it’s dark out) and these bright gold eyes and honestly kind of sad looking.

It’s raining out, and the damn cat is hunched up by the tires of his car trying to avoid the rain and won’t move for anything, so of course he picks it up. No collar or tags, but maybe it’s chipped? He’ll take it to a shelter or vet in the morning to get that checked out. (Definitely doesn’t plan on keeping the dumb thing because he can barely look after himself these days.)

Wraps it up in his hoodie once he’s in his car – it needed to be washed anyway – and heads to his place. Doesn’t look over when he hears it start purring, no, or scritches its ears when they get to a red light because it’s looks like the poor thing’s had a rough time of it lately.

When he gets home he realizes he doesn’t have cat food laying around – why the hell would he when he doesn’t have pets? (That was always Ryan’s thing anyway, the whole stray bit. Dozens of the things around his place when Jeremy would stop by to pick him up or after a night of drinking and wow, don’t need to be thinking about that now, so he doesn’t.)

He decides to give the poor thing a bath first, get all the dirt and muck out of its fur before anything else. (It’s already soaked through from the rain, no reason to get it dried off to dunk in the tub again later, right?)

Jeremy’s expecting a struggle getting the cat in the tub, but to his pleasant surprise it seems thrilled at the chance to splash around in warm water. Stands still while he uses his own shampoo to soap it up (should be safe, right? Fuck, maybe he should have stopped at a store on the way home, gotten pet supplies first?) and gets all the dirt and grime and whatnot out of its fur.

Realizes it’s not a solid black color after all. More smokey coloring from soft blue-gray to deep black and striking as hell. (This little marking on its chest like a starburst.)

It chirps at him when he wraps a towel around it and does his best to get the water out of its fur and situates it on his couch while he tries to find something to feed it. (Chicken? Chicken’s good for cats, right?)

The smell of cooking chicken reminds him he skipped lunch earlier (made some flimsy excuse to meet someone who might know something his superiors are up to) so he cooks something for himself.

Sets out a bowl water and another with of cooked chicken and a little bit of brown rice he made. Some veggies to round things out because nutrition and also he remembers Ryan telling him about this one stray that kept fucking stealing them off his plate. (But he’s not thinking about Ryan, no.)

Sits down to eat and watches the cat pad over to the food, curious as hell before it tucks in. Smiles a little because it makes these little noises as it eats, all nomnomnom which he didn’t know was a thing? But apparently it is. (Not that he’s going to get attached to the dumb thing, no.)

ANYWAY.

Jeremy cleans up and gets ready for bed, half-hardheartedly tries to kick the cat off his bed when it hops up next to him. (Because no???)

But it’s kind of small and on the scrawny side of things and anyway, anyway, it’s cold out and he’s not so heartless he’d let it freeze and his heat’s always been iffy. (Not that cold out, but hey whatever.)

The next morning he wakes up with the stray curled up next to him, all adorable and he decides the closest animal shelter is out of his way and there’s a vet not too far away, because reasons.

Gets them both fed and bundles the stray up to take it to the vet to get checked over. Finds out it’s not chipped, and other than being a bit malnourished is relatively healthy. Might need some shots down the road if he plans on keeping it and oh, yes, talk to the receptionist on the way out because there’s this missing pets thing they do. (Some kind of notice board or some such.)

Jeremy laughs off the part about keeping the stray if no one claims it because no (no), and pretends he doesn’t see the look she gives him over that little lie.

This time he stops by the pet store on the way home, gets food and a couple of pet food bowls. A few toys because it’s the weekend, sure, but he has to be back at HQ on Monday and he doesn’t want the stray to rip his place apart out of boredom. A few other things – treats and a comb the vet suggested because long fur? - and this little purple and orange collar because of course that’s the one he’d pick out.

The stray watches all this from the cart, and Jeremy swears it’s judging him for the collar, but what the hell does it know, it’s just a cat.

So.

He goes home with the stray and puts away the food and other stuff he doesn’t want it getting into and tries to get it interested in the toys and other random things he bought.

The stray gives him this look when he tosses the little jingly ball, but doesn’t run after it. Has a little more interest in the feather -thing he got. (Way too much money for a feather tied to a stick, but what the hell, right?)

Loses some of its composure when he gets a few treats out – all interested in that for damn sure – and deigns to entertain him by batting around the catnip mouse for a few precious treats.

Gives him another look when he brings the collar out but lets him put the stupid thing on it. (Totally doesn’t take a picture of it on his phone, goodness no.)

Jeremy has to leave the cat alone for a bit when he gets a phone call. (Some guy he knows who knows a guy who knows someone who might know something about the mess his life’s become.)

When he gets back he finds it curled up on his bed with one of the cat toys he bought it snugged up to its chest and he maybe takes a picture of that too. (Because reasons.)

Pretty much rinse and repeat the next day, and knows he should take it to a shelter before he gets attached, but it’s still rainy out and he’d rather stay inside where it’s warm(ish) and dry and anyway, anyway. Maybe later during the week?

Goes to HQ on Monday and doesn’t realize until he’s sitting through another briefing that he hasn’t heard the weird ghost-cat noises for a while now? (Weird.)

Goes back home where the stray is napping on the couch and stops to scritches its ears before he changes and takes a shower and all that.

Comes back out to find the stray sitting on his kitchen counter (big, big no to that one), and when he goes to shoo it off, it gives him this look, and he hears in his head– plain as day:

Your fashion sense is atrocious.

Because a pair of old sweats he’s had since forever, all faded and kind of falling apart and maybe – possibly – the most unholy shades of purple and orange. (He just likes them okay, stop judging.)

Jeremy stares at the cat for a long, long moment. Pretty sure it’s not speaking to him in his head (that would be crazy) because he’s been under a lot of stress lately between one thing and another, and also cats can’t do that?

Really.

And, look, okay.

If cats could do that, he’s positive they’d just be as snide and sarcastic and everything because humans are dumb as shit, but -

There’s this weird...tickling sensation in his head? And looking at the stray he realizes it was a sigh? (God, what the hell is happening anymore???)

The cat sighs again and Jeremy has to sit down because maybe he like, hit his head or something??? Slipped in the shower and doesn’t remember it and everything.

Plunks himself down at the little kitchen bar counter to watch the cat walk on over to keep giving him those looks.

And then it starts talking, telling him about this whole...Thing.

Some cosmic baddie that defeated the last person the cat mentored – a long moment of silence after it drops that bit of information and this wave of sadness from the cat. Sorrow and guilt and sense that it blames itself for not preparing its charge well enough.

How it was locked away in a little prison all this time, awake but dreaming and all this enigmatic bullshit that Jeremy’s mind kind of skips past because what the hell pretentious bullshit is this???

And then!

And then someone (something, something, prophecy???) released it and the only one who could do such a thing is destined to be the next magical girl it mentors.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Because fucking really, what?

The cat barrels on, sensing Jeremy is not delighted with all this nonsense, and tells Jeremy all about these Forces of Evil he’s expected to do battle with until the cosmic baddies shows his dumb face again. (Something, something, defeating the cat’s previous charge weakened them and the FoE wreaking havoc all over the place are something, something, preparing for their return? Something, anyway.)

The cat explains that it couldn’t communicate with Jeremy properly at first – weakened by its previous defeat and imprisonment. Also language barriers? (Apparently the US as he knows it now didn’t exist the last time the around, and also the cat and its charge weren’t in an English speaking country and just a whole lot to unpack to even bother wondering about all that.)

But that’s totally the reason for the ghost-cat and everything else when he thought he was just normal crazy, not whatever this is.

Jeremy just stares at the cat, certain he’s lost his mind because cat???

But then the little asshole nudges that damned box Jeremy was so fixated on towards him. (How the hell it got it all the way out here is a mystery he doesn’t want solved because it’s probably tied into the whole losing his damn mind business.)

It points out the dried blood on the box from Jeremy’s paper cut, most if it flaking off but enough left to see what it’s talking about when the stupid thing tells him only someone with the right bloodline yadda, yadda, yadda could hope to break the seal placed on it and oh dear fucking God, what is going on anymore???

Eventually the cat stops talking and gives Jeremy one of those looks.

You don’t believe me, do you.

Jeremy just looks at the dumb cat, because whatever gave it away?

“Oh, no,” he says. “I totally do.”

The cat sighs again, and hops off the counter.

Jeremy watches as it heads towards his bedroom and after a moment follows to find it making itself comfy on his bed.

“Uh...”

The cat just tells him that since the only way he’ll believe it is if he sees for himself what it’s talking about, and then just.

Goes to sleep.

Just.

Fucking goes to sleep after all that exposition leaving Jeremy to wonder if he imagined the whole thing, at least until he goes back to the kitchen and sees the strange little box sitting on the counter. (Tiny scratches on it and what look like cat-sized bite marks and okay, wow. No. No more mysteries tonight.)

He makes dinner and sets food out for the cat. Refills its water bowl and feels super weird about all of it because the cat can talk to him telepathically or something? And he’s feeding it some pet store cat food and oh, God, what does he do now?

But, you know.

He’s hungry as hell and the cat’s not talking (hahaha, it’s a cat, why would it???) and just.

Fuck it, okay. If the cat has a problem with what he’s feeding it the damn thing can put in a formal request or something later.

The cat doesn’t talk to him the next day or the one after that, but when Jeremy gets jumped by these weird monster...things in the parking garage at HQ it just sort of pops up out of nowhere.

Just poof and its there, this fucking wand in its teeth and orders for Jeremy to use it, like he knows what the hell he’s doing?

Fumbles with it and almost zaps himself with a burst of something that comes out of the sparkly little star on one end. Manages to get it pointed at the monster-thing and watches as it...melts.

“What the fuck.”

He was expecting some weird light show, or something like that. Sparkly lights and whatever else, not something out of a horror flick and this puddle of goo (blackish greenish muck and bits of bone left behind and he kind of has to vomit a little because it reeks. Foul and vile and overall nothing he’s ever smelled before. (And he’s trudged through sewers all over the damn world thanks to his job, okay. He knows disgusting.)

The cat walks over to investigate the mess, distaste in its voice as it flicks its ears and looks over at him.

Interesting.

That...doesn’t sound good.

Turns out it isn’t, because the wand adjusts to its users needs and the whatnot, and apparently Jeremy was desperate for some kind of magic zappy laser business to deal with the monster-things fast and the want compensated as well as it could. (Which resulted in the puddle of melted monster.)

The cat assures him with further training things won’t end quite so messily, but Jeremy’s out okay? Super freaking done with all this weirdness.

Gets in his car and heads home. Kind of wants to leave the cat behind, but he’s not that asshole and opens the door to let in inside. Ignores the way it’s watching him as he drives, and anyway -

“What the hell was that???”

And the cat sighs – still weird as hell in his head – and spews more exposition about how the baddie feeds on bad vibes or something, and blah, blah, blah.

Also, a hell of a lot of that around HQ and Jeremy’s superiors that drew the monster-things there where they picked up Jeremy’s scent. (Bloodlines and dumb magic cat and also the strange little box left an imprint or something on him that’s slow to fade. Whatever.)

The cat tells Jeremy now the monster-things have his scent they’ll be after him, and also will go tattling to the cosmic baddie.

So, you know.

Kind of fucked now.

Jeremy thinks it’s a load of horseshit – Denial!!1! - and the cat is like, fine, whatever. You’ll just have to see for yourself again then.

And Jeremy does a few nights later and another encounter with the monster-things. This time he’s not subconsciously thinking about melting the fuckers so much as just...zapping them?

So it’s less puddle of monster-thing at the end and more electrocuting them? Still disgusting, but less so? (Something, anyway.)

A week after that on a mission that almost ruins the whole operation (puts the others working with him on it in danger) before he gets things under control and when he gets home he confronts the cat who is just.

Are you ready to listen to reason, now?

Oh, Jeremy’s pissed okay, because it’s one thing for those things to go after him – his life’s weird enough as it is – but other operatives and support personnel? No.>

He agrees to let the cat train him – his life, what is it? - and they Do Battle with the FoE in Jeremy’s life for a bit until he runs the risk of other people discovering hes a magical girl now? (Apparently a big no-no because reasons?)

There’s a Major Battle at some point, and the cat tells Jeremy they’ve driven the monster-things out of the city (because of course!) but they can’t sit back and let the rest come to them. (Something, something, momentum/the monster-things wreaking havoc elsewhere.)

And Jeremy, he would, but that whole thing with figuring out what his superiors are up to and the thing with them being responsible for Ryan’s death and just -

The cat makes a deal with Jeremy, who – coincidentally – has hit a brick wall in his investigation regarding all that.

Tells him if they go after the monster-things it will help him with that problem of his, but there’s nothing for him in this city anymore, you know?

But before Jeremy can make the decision himself, his superiors send him on another mission and it’s obvious this time they’re trying to kill him. (Would have, if it wasn’t for the cat and the wand and this whole magical girl business.)

Jeremy stares at the burning safe house he was supposed to be in before it fucking blew, looks down at the cat who trots up to him. (Thousands of miles away from home and somehow it’s here, but that’s magic for you.)

“No time like now, huh?” Jeremy murmurs, because being dead is a good excuse not to show up to work, and figures faking his death is for the best.

Will keep his superiors and their bullshit off his back while he fights evil by moonlight or whatever the hell and it’s not like he has anyone who’ll miss him in the meantime. (Deliberately doesn’t think about his family, because wow, no.)

He and the cat wander for a bit there, hit cities and towns and whatever else infested with the cosmic baddie’s monster-thing and gets better at this whole magical girl business.

Gets to the point where he’s not that bad at it, which is around the time they end up in Los Santos.

Which, wouldn’t you know it is a hotbed for this magical girl nonsense as well as your more mundane criminal enterprises.

“Color me shocked,” Jeremy says, when the cat mentions that. Tells him it’s something to do with the city being built on the remains of another Major Battle centuries ago and rifts to other dimensions that never fully closed blah, blah, blah.)

Being dead(ish), Jeremy hasn’t exactly been working regular jobs. May have used all the training the agency/spec ops group gave him to god use and breaking a few laws here and there to get by.

Sets himself up as muscle for hire in Los Santos while he (sometimes literally) moonlights as a magical girl.

Pretends to be an upright citizen, but there’s just so much weirdness around him that of course the cops get involved at some point.

Too much of a coincidence he’s usually where the really weird shit happens, you know? And even though he’s a stellar liar, the police know something is up with him.

Especially this one detective with this bizarre as hell accent. (Jersey, maybe? New York? Who the fuck knows, it fluctuates.)

Big guy, something weirdly familiar about him, but hey. Life’s been weird for Jeremy the last little while and Detective Roger Davis is a blip on the radar, you know?

Jeremy flip-flops between being annoyed and amused whenever the guy pops up because a suspicious bastard. All these questions and looks and getting way too close to stumbling over the truth, but also?

Weird guy, okay.

Odd sense of humor – kind of dark and twisted that speaks to Jeremy’s own sense of humor – and he has these moments where he’s not completely terrible to be around when he asks Jeremy the usual questions at the latest scene where weird shit went down.

Every so often he’ll hauls Jeremy down to the station every so often when something Big happened and he’s the likely suspect behind it. Or he’ll just happen to run into Jeremy on the street, and hey, why not get a cup of coffee or something at that diner over there? No ulterior motives at all, Mr. Tim. (Jeremy’s a ridiculous mess of a human being.

Catches the guy watching him sometimes, the usual suspicion and paranoia nowhere to be found. Just this strange sort of melancholy? (Not Jeremy’s business, and anyway, he’s kind of busy battling the FoE and trying not to get arrested for his day job(s) or not job.)

Gets a few leads here and there regarding his former superiors, but never anything concrete. Kind of weird how things dried up after that last MB before he faked his death, and The Cat is like. *SIGH* because clearly the two are connected. (Cosmic baddie and his minions enabling Jeremy’s superiors and the whatnot even if no one was aware because they spread more suffering and ~evil along the way and just. Hopefully Jeremy will figure that out sooner or later.)

Anyway.

Jeremy’s powers have settled as (mostly) electricity base? Something similar, anyhow.

Zappy kind of magic and all that, and the suit – of course there’s a suit – reflects that somewhat in the yellow/orange bits. The purple is questionable, but Jeremy insists on it and the wand that provides the suit just kind of rolls with it. (The feeling he gets from it, anyway, and The Cat’s long given up arguing with Jeremy regarding his fashion choices.)

The media doesn’t really have a name for him – not that he’s picked one himself – but there are plenty of headlines about “Sparky” and “Sparkplug” and all that Jeremy is kind of insulted by? (Yes, he’s short and stocky, that's no excuse for people being unimaginative hacks.)

And then!

Detective Roger Davis gets in over his head, goes snooping where he shouldn’t and Jeremy has to save him from a group of monster-things. Finds himself going up against a trio of higher-tier monster-things in the process.

Vaguely humanoid, and they make these garbled attempts at speech – creaking, groaning, wheezing things – that sound like a name? (Jeremy’s or the cosmic baddies, he can’t make it out.)

Rescues the good detective who definitely knows something is up with Jeremy now because Jeremy’s mask got destroyed in the fight and no denying it’s Jeremy in the magical girl suit and wand and The Cat???

Like.

Sure, Detective Roger Davis is kind of concussed and all, but he’s not an idiot and Jeremy is just.

Fuck.

He can’t leave the guy here, alright. Putting aside the charred remains of the monster-things, it’s a bad part of the city and the guy’s a cop. No knowing what might happen if someone finds him here, and also kind of a dick move after everything. (Apparently part of the reason the monster-things grabbed him instead of killing him on sight is they knew Jeremy liked the guy and hoped to use him as bait and so on and so forth.)

Jeremy brings the guy back to his place, ignores the ramblings of a man who’s had a super stressful, weird as hell night and makes sure he’s not about to die on him before putting him to bed.

Freezes when Detective Roger Davis smiles up at him. This weird crooked little thing that tugs at the back of Jeremy’s mind and mumbles something about turntables and what sounds like Jeremy’s name before he falls asleep.

Jeremy stares at him for a long, long time because the good detective’s accent was all the way gone on that part. His voice sounded too fucking familiar by far, but nah, right? Jeremy was just hearing things.

(He, too, has has a strange and bizarre night and also has to confront the fact he’s got a Thing for a cop, which is all kinds of Not Good considering he’s a part-time criminal and magical girl???)

And The Cat, okay. The Cat gives him this look but doesn’t say a damn thing as Jeremy plays the denial game again.

Leaves early the next morning because he’s got a job of the less-than-legal persuasion. Working with this guy with a foul mouth and dry sense of humor who is also super fond of explosions and everything that goes along with them.

Easy little thing playing muscle and no murder in the cards (yet, but it happens) and he’s expecting Detective Roger Davis to be long gone by the time he gets home, but no luck there.

Of course not.

The good detective is sitting on Jeremy’s couch watching his TV with The Cat sprawled over his legs like he belongs there. (Jeremy would lie if it doesn’t make for a wonderful thing to come home to, but that’s before The Cat glances at him, so fucking smug in his head.)

“Uh - “

Detective Roger Davis scratches his chin, seems to have a hard time meeting Jeremy’s eyes.

“Never expected to see you again, you know,” he says, and that weird as hell accent of his is nowhere to be seen. Replaced by this faint little southern thing pops ups every now and then the way Jeremy remembers from way back when. “Kind of hoped it wouldn’t happen.”

Hits like a truck, that one.

Steals Jeremy’s breath and all that, so he drops down in an empty chair and stares and stares and stares at the good detective.

Hair’s a little lighter, but that might be due to the amount of sun Los Santos sees. Got a beard situation going on there, something Ryan never had because fucker loved playing around with face paint and complained up a storm about getting it out of his beard.

Looks older, more tired.

Some faded scars here and there Jeremy’s noticed that Ryan didn’t have.

“...Ryan?”

Because of course it’s Ryan. Of fucking course it is, all the little bits and pieces floating and tumbling around the back reaches of Jeremy’s mind all this time clicking together like the worst kind of puzzle.

Looking at him, Jeremy has this one purely paranoid-driven moment where he wonders if Ryan was in on things with their superiors from the beginning. Fakes his death to...what, carry out their bidding without anyone being the wiser? (Who goes looking for a dead man to be behind misdeeds and the whatnot like those?)

But he snaps out of when The Cat snorts in his mind, amused at his stupid human everything like it usually is.

And, right, okay. Right.

They might have moments where they bicker and fight and give each other the cold shoulder, but The Cat is his new partner in this whole magical girl business. Trust and all that between them, and if it thought Ryan was any kind of threat to Jeremy, well. It’s hardly helpless, now is it.

So.

“I kind of want to punch you,” Jeremy says, so fucking tired, only just beginning to process the fact that hey, wow, Ryan’s not dead??? Is alive and well(ish) and apparently a fucking cop??? “FYI.”

Ryan smiles, crooked little thing, and nods.

“I’d deserve it,” he admits, stupidly honest and Jeremy, okay.

Always a sucker when it came to Ryan – more than he realized - and just.

Doesn’t know what to do???

Because Ryan’s not dead and nothing makes sense and just what the actual fuck is his life anymore?

Thankfully Ryan’s happy to explain things. Or. Not so much happy as determined to explain himself, the least he can do and all that.

Tells Jeremy he found out what their superiors were doing – became suspicious after the mission that put Jeremy out of commission for a while – and like Jeremy decided to fake his death when they tried to kill him on that solo mission they sent him on.

Thought Jeremy was safe enough while he worked to unravel the tangle of lies and deceit their superiors wove, and then just.

Got lost in it all for a while. Kept tabs on Jeremy and intended to get him out when he realized their superiors were doing their best to kill him too, but then the mission where Jeremy faked his death and Ryan -

Kind of lost it for real for a while there. Tore through their superiors people, associates they hadn’t sent Jeremy after yet to get answers. Hoping to expose them - ruin them - before he killed them himself, and then got into a mess that almost killed him. (Again, and Jeremy just stares at him at that aside, because wow not funny?)

Ryan running into this assassin for hire who took pity on him or whatever, said he did impressive work but lacked finesse and Ryan, okay. Kind of half-dead and indignant because he is A++++ at killing people, and Meg had just laughed and told him to finish his fucking soup. Told him to look her up if he was ever in Los Santos and took off because she had a target who wasn’t getting any more dead with her dillydallying like this, and try not to die in the meantime because he had potential.

Anyway, that whole near-death situation served as a wake-up call for Ryan who snapped out of his little berserk mode and decided to regroup.

Went to Los Santos because hell if he knew where else to go, and met up with Meg and her little hacker boyfriend there.

Sweet talked Gavin into getting him into the LSPD – some roundabout way of getting his hands on information regarding their former superiors Because Plot???

And he was making headway when Jeremy came to Los Santos and everything kind of derailed.

The weirdness related to Jeremy’s magical girl antics were always there? But wow did it really kick into gear once Jeremy showed up.

And!!1!

Ryan also had to contend with the whole Jeremy not being dead thing while giving away that oh, hey, Ryan is also not dead. And (gently) harassing Jeremy because he totally had/has a Thing for Jeremy and it’s killing him having the little asshole so close and not be able to tell him and goddamn life’s shitty like that.

There’s more, of course. Ryan falling hard(er) for Jeremy, and not being able to tell him back before things went to hell because surely Jeremy would never think of him like that, and why ruin the friendship they had and so on while Jeremy sits there trying to ignore the way The Cat is fucking dying of amusement at these two idiot humans and their ridiculous Pining.

“Okay, so,” Jeremy says, after Ryan drops the whole Being Into Jeremy thing. “You really need to shut up now.”

Ryan does, flash of hurt and then everything shoved down deep all nice and neat except not and Jeremy makes this little noise in the back of this throat because!

He never really saw Ryan’s face before, you know? Dramatic bastard with his face paint and whatever else and not it’s -

Fucker’s not great at hiding what he’s feeling and so Jeremy gets up, walks over to him and looks down at him.

Angry and sad and confused and more than a little heartbroken over how fucking dumb they both are, how dumb Ryan is and just.

“You’re an asshole and I hate you,” he says, watches Ryan just fucking take it like he thinks Jeremy’s serious but it’s okay!

It’s fine!

Jeremy’s right and Ryan deserves it and all kinds of heartache-y bullshit, so Jeremy has no choice but to kiss him, right?

This chaste little thing, a first date goodnight kind of kiss at the door they never got to have, and Ryan goes so very still when he realizes he’s not being punched the way he expects, that Jeremy's pulling back to rest his forehead against his and say, so fucking quietly, “we’re so fucking stupid, Ryan,”.

“What.”

Because Jeremy’s not wrong, but mostly the kissing thing, and the way Jeremy’s still there, forehead pressed against his, and warm and alive and just.

It’s a lot?

It’s a lot.

Jeremy laughs because there’s the old Haywood brilliance, and leans back to look at him.

Not half-bad, really. Gorgeous blue eyes and this really adorable confused frown and the beard looks nice on him.

Mostly though, mostly just Ryan.

“So,” he says, moving back to sit next to Ryan on the couch, welcomes The Cat into his lap. “I’ve got a few things to tell you myself.”

And then it’s Jeremy explaining the whole magical girl dealio he’s got going for himself. How The Cat promised to help him figure it all out – has been helping him – and the thing with the Cosmic Baddie. (Why Ryan is still alive you know, because Jeremy and his FEELINGS for an idiot detective with a shitty accent and all that.)

Ryan just stares at him – still stuck on the kiss and clearly stunned by the admission of Jeremy’s own FEELINGs – and is just.

“Bullshit.”

So of course Jeremy gets the wand out and does the magical girl transformation, only for Ryan to criticize his fashion choices, therefore putting him and The Cat on the same team in that continuing battle.

In the end it’s only a little stranger than the whole conspiracy thing involving their former superiors (understatement) and they just kind of. Try to process everything for a bit.

Drift closer to one another as they do, because Jeremy’s couch is old and shitty and there’s this little dip towards the middle. Definitely not because of the whole Requited Feelings business or the fact they can, no.

They’re both in too deep to get out now with the dealing with their former superiors thing? But it wouldn’t hurt to team up on that front – and you know, maybe that magical girl business too?

(Jeremy’s a bit leery on that one because he’s learned through trial and error and a whole slew of injuries that the monster-things are resistant as hell to contemporary weaponry. Ryan’s also a squishy normal human while Jeremy’s proven to be a bit more durable thanks to this bloodline bullshit and prophecy shenanigans, but they’ll talk about it later, you know?)

And then they kind of orbit one another after that. Go on weird little dates in between the doing crime/solving crime stuff and battling the FoE.

Jeremy makes something of a name for himself in the criminal side of things, and Michael puts in a good word for him with the boss of a crew he started working for. Helps him land a more solid career on that front. (God, what would Jeremy of only a few years ago have had to say about that, huh?)

Ryan’s still pretending to be a cop, and maybe the asshole pulls Jeremy over when he catches him speeding. Smirk on his face and little ”Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?”

(He’s not a great cop, though, because he lets Jeremy slide for a kiss or a promise for a date later and so on. Maybe does some killin’ in regards to the side jobs he takes here and there. Picks out a new mask for said side jobs, flip-flops between several skull designs for his face paint because he has to stick to a theme, you know, otherwise it’s just silly.)

Maybe ditches the whole cop thing when Jeremy’s crew gets into a bind and there’s not a lot of choice, and oh, hey, guys, did I mention I happen to know the Vagabond? Small world, isn’t it.

And more shenanigans in which Jeremy is ~kidnapped by Meg who hears about Ryan and his new boyfriend who may or may not be his old ~unrequited crush.

Jeremy tied to a chair in a swanky hotel – he swears he’s seen movies that start like that – and Meg being all >:(((((((((( at him because Ryan’s a softy at heart and she just wants to make sure Jeremy’s not going to break his heart all over again.

Which, okay. Not going to happen if he can help it, but thanks for looking out for him?

And Gavin showing up with Ryan because the asshole would just not stop pestering him about where Meg took his boyfriend and then it’s like.

Totally like those movies Jeremy and Ryan swears they’ve seen that start with the chair and the ropes after Meg and Gavin leave them alone in that swanky hotel room that’s paid for the rest of the weekend, enjoy you two! :DDDDDDDDDDDD

Meg and Gavin aren’t laughing at Jeremy and Ryan or cashing in on whatever bet they had going bout them and honestly, worst people ever really.

(Jeremy tries to keep the whole magical girl nonsense a secret from the crew as long as he can – not because he doesn’t trust them so much as he doesn’t trust them not to be stupid about it when they do find out. Be all reckless about things when it’ll definitely get them killed until they know what they're doing in regards to the FoE, but that’s a future worry and anyway, anyway, he’s got his hands full with everything else going on in his life to invite trouble like that.)

#jeremwood #turnfree #ragehappy #demoncowedgar #prompt fills #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #fahc magical girl shenanigans #look #even i don't know what's going on anymore #XD

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