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numberonetyrantwonderland · 5 years

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Summary:

“You’ve seen my work?”

“I see everything, Michael Jones, “

Michael Jones is contacted by The Fakes for a potential offer he is unsure if he could refuse.

Word Count:

4121

Lifesaver. The word repeats in his mind like a joke. She had sounded so relieved to see him, relieved to see an electrician. Certainly not a lifesaver. Eagerly let a stranger inside her home for something she could have easily fixed herself. Having money meant she could easily spend it, have someone do things she didn’t want to do. It was his job, however, even if it wouldn’t pay nearly enough.

Los Santos is dangerous. Yet she leads him into the problem room, leaving him after a few gentle words of small talk. Leaving him alone in her living room. It gave his eyes some time to linger. Glancing over all the expensive looking junk. Junk that could easily be swiped for extra cash.

In this city, grabbing an apartment like this meant you had money. Large open windows viewing the disaster of a city. Pristine white walls with a few square pictures portraying leafy green scenes. One wall a light wood, holding a TV in the middle. Decently dark wood floors with the contrasting white couches and a white rug in the center. Sitting on the rug was a light wood coffee table with two levels just slightly askew. Glittering in the sunlight, what caught his prying eyes. A small golden bear statue. It couldn’t be expensive, but someone would surely buy it for more than he would be paid today.

As he begins to wrap up, a hand reaches out to gently take the decoration, stuffing it in his tool bag. Hopefully, it wouldn’t get too scuffed up. With those thoughts, the bag is zipped up with no words. Grabbing the handles and standing.

“Ah! Finished already?” a soft voice spoke behind him. She didn’t sound cross or suspicious, meaning she didn’t see what had just happened. However, his heart still beat loudly in his chest, pounding through his head and causing his stomach to flip. He turns slowly, the woman looking at him with bright eyes and her hand outstretched with money. She wouldn’t miss it. Simply wonder where the thing had run off to, but ultimately shrug it off. She misplaced it. She could buy a new one. Throw around more money. “Thank you so much, “ her voice trails off as she tries to remember his name.

Giving her no time to ask, he moves forward and grabs the money. “Michael Gaerity, “ he says with a forced smile. The fake name he used for every job, avoiding Jones. Avoiding anyone recognizing him. Without waiting for any more small talk, Michael leads himself to the exit. She follows soundlessly, closing the door as he leaves.

The hallways bared the same image as the apartment. Clean. Modern. Expensive. He wanted nothing more to do with this place. Moving with only the gentle taps of his shoes against the floor, towards the elevator. Once inside, he pushes the lobby button multiple times until the doors fully closed, stepping back and waiting. Instead of going all the way down, the elevator dings and opens halfway through. It lets on a skinny looking man. Stopping as the doors open, he runs his fingers through his dark blond hair. His hand moves down his face for a minute, Michael noting his unfortunate large nose. Eyes shift on him with an intent Michael couldn’t read. The gaze takes the former aback slightly, making him uncomfortably shift closer to the wall to allow more room. He enters, eyes moving from Michael’s curly brown hair to his electrician uniform.

Only a few seconds pass, the doors close, and the air becomes tighter. Michael’s stomach twists tightly. The grip on his bag tightens. Thoughts roll through his head as the elevator takes its time. If the kid tried anything, he could take him. On jobs, Michael never took his knife, suddenly regretting that decision now. Usually, the jobs he took were pretty safe and he didn’t need to defend himself too harshly. His fists could certainly be enough on the scrawny excuse of man though. Michael looks towards him again, eyes still strongly adhered to him.

“I could kill you right now, “ he threatens before he could stop himself. The words were spat like poison, accompanied by the slight twitch of his arms, hands balled into tight fists. Eyes on him were unmoving despite the threat, they almost shown with amusement. Suddenly a smile formed on the other’s lips. A smug expression causing more anger to bubble in Michael’s chest.

“I’m sure you could, “ he finally says, a strong British accent pushing through. His hands reach into his pockets. Michael tenses up. Golden rimmed sunglasses make their way to Michael’s sight as he watches him put them on in a fluid motion. The elevator door opens as if the result of such action. Bright sunlight filters through quickly.

Michael pushes past the other, moving swiftly out and towards the glass doors of the lobby. The exit. In a few seconds, he was out on the sidewalk, moving towards his beat down car. Tossing in his tool bag, cringing only slightly as he remembered what he had still in it, before getting in. A sense of dread rolls over Michael for a few moments, his eyes wandering back towards the building. He searches for the stranger, almost relieved not to see him. He was out of trouble for at least today.

The drive home was slow. Once outside the rundown apartment buildings, almost the exact opposite of where he was only a few minutes ago, Michael gets out, grabbing the tool bag and other belongings. The muggy air of the lobby greeted him as he entered, turning to take the stairs. Inside his apartment was no better, though more tidy and neat.

Michael bitterly noted the size of his small studio apartment compared to the lovely home he was just in. Huffing slightly as he set his bag on the counter, opening it and taking out the stolen object. The golden glow brought him back to the golden glasses, the blond hair, the British accent. Something about the encounter was catching him off guard like he was supposed to know who that was.

Groaning inwardly, Michael moves across the small room, setting the bear down on the table near his bed. Quickly shaking the thoughts from his mind, he heads into the bathroom with clothes he pulled from the drawers. He turns on the shower, getting undressed and stepping in, letting the warm water slide against his skin and wash away the day.

The ringing of his phone on the sink causes Michael to step out of the daze, turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. A few more rings later, he answers the phone with a gruff, “Hello?”

“Took you long enough. For a second there I was gonna assume you fell off the face of the planet,” the familiar feminine voice reaches his ear. Michael lets out a small amused huff, using his free hand to begin to dry his curly brown hair. “You’ve been pushing off hanging out for weeks now, so I’m coming over with some snacks and you’re gonna deal with it,” she adds after a few seconds of silence.

Michael sighs loudly, hanging the towel he was using to dry his hair. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “But I’ve been taking a lot of jobs recently. Money is tight and all. It’s been a long day and I-”

“Nope, we’re not doing this.”

“Aria.”

“Michael! I’ll be there in ten. And for god sake, you avoiding me better not mean you’ve gotten yourself into some serious Los Santos trouble. We’ll talk more when I get there,” Aria says sternly before the soft click signals she’s hung up. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Michael lowers his phone and frowns. His friend had every right to be worried. Michael had gotten himself into plenty of physical fights before, it would admittedly be just like him to stumble into harsher crimes Los Santos had to offer. However, he couldn’t help but grow angry at her continued kindness.

Despite that, Michael got dressed and slips out the bathroom just in time to hear the soft knock at his door. When he opens the door, the familiar bright smile greets him. Before Michael had the chance to react, she slips past him happily spewing on about what snacks she brought and what they could do. For a second the blond hair and golden glasses appear in Michael’s peripheral vision as he begins to turn around. Taking one last glance at the empty hallway, Michael shuts the door and locks it.

As he turns around, Aria looks at him expectantly as if waiting for an answer. Michael blinks opening his mouth and closing it a few times before shaking his head. “Uhh, what?”

The brunette rolls her eyes and turns her back towards him, taking a few snacks out of a bag she brought. “You seem caught up in something,” she hums, opening a bag of chips and jumping on his couch.

Michael follows her slowly, ignoring the food despite his growling stomach and sitting down next to her. “It’s nothing,” he simply says which gets a noise out of the other girl with her mouth stuffed with chips. Without waiting to see what she was trying to say, Michael grabs his laptop off the table and slides it on his lap. Aria leans against his side, gazing at the screen as he pulls up a website to watch movies for free, illegally, but free. “Wanna watch this?” Michael asks, mouse hovering over a movie title.

“No. Oooh! What about that one, I’ve always wanted to watch that!”

“Absolutely not. No romance.”

“Not a romance guy? Boring.”

Minutes roll by with no movie playing and an argument breaking out as they couldn’t come to the same terms. Suddenly Michael growls and slams the laptop shut, placing it on the table aggressively. His eyes move towards the smaller human with a fire lit. “Why are you here?” Michael asks, a bitter tone to his voice. It seems to catch the other off guard.

“You’re my friend.”

“Hardly,” Michael bites back. The two had met on one of his jobs. Aria was friendly, chatty and took to him easily. Invited him out which Michael accepted because he didn’t want to seem rude. She was the closest thing he had to a friend honestly, however it raised a lot of questions inside his mind. He came to Los Santos to disappear. He didn’t want friends. He didn’t want enemies. Both of which he seemed to have made anyways.

“You’re my friend!” she insists. “And when my friends start to push me away and isolate themselves I get worried because I care.” Silence passes between the two for a moment. Aria shifts closer to Michael, closing the gap between them. Her eyes trying to search his for any sense of emotion. “Remember when you came to help my mom with the fuse box problem she had? You had a bunch of bruises on your face and when I asked about them you told me to fuck off,” she muses quietly. “You haven’t gotten into any trouble right?” Aria asks, looking away from him for a moment. “No drugs or gangs or that whole mess, right?”

Silence stretches between them once again, this time it was almost suffocating even to Michael. “No,” he says, the anger in his tone no longer there. “No trouble,” he repeats with a groan, brings his hands to his face and sliding them down. “I just haven’t been in the mood for talking, for being around people. Why can’t you respect that?” Michael asks, though accusing, still no hint of malice or anger.

This time the silence only lasted a few seconds before the other stood up abruptly. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to show I care,” she says calmly, turning to face him for a moment. “When you need me, need some company, you have my number,” Aria says and offers a small smile. She turns on her heal, swiping up a bag of chips and leaving the rest of the snacks she brought as she moved for the door. “Los Santos is a big bad world, Michael. Don’t get caught up in the wrong crowd.” With those last words, she leaves. Leaves Michael alone with his thoughts and a bunch of snacks he didn’t want.

“We found him, what now?”

“We recruit him.”

“Damn aggressive that guy is.”

“And that’s why you’re going to talk to him”

“What?! You just want me to die don’t you?”

“No, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you did. Look, we take this chance, go through with this heist and benefit in not only riches, but our name being taken seriously. Los Santos won’t know what hit it. We need him.”

“Surely you would be able to convince him more than me?”

“I’d rather have him beat you up.”

“What!”

“Look, just give him the card. He calls me and I can work my magic from there. The kid is struggling with what? Money. Mention the money. Get him intrigued. Curious. Get to work.”

The sun began to set, filtering in a warm orange hue into the small room. Light stretches across the floor and taunts Michael with a happy dance. Suddenly the silence overtakes him and he stands. In an instant he was putting away the leftover snacks Aria brought and grabbing his keys and phone. He leaves his apartment, locking the door and jogging down the stairs. Air. He needed air.

Michael felt as if he was suffocating in the small apartment, stuck on the words from Aria, stuck on questions and worries and anger. He didn’t want to worry the young woman, but he also didn’t want her around. He was perfectly content being by himself. It was better that way surely. Yet he still didn’t keep his enemy percentage down either. There were plenty of people he has fought that would be more than happy to start more trouble with him. One thing Aria was right about, he needed to stay away from Los Santo troubles. Something deep in his stomach knotted at that thought, an uneasy feeling.

As he gets to the lobby, the familiar stranger causes him to stop in his tracks. The golden glasses glinted in his direction as if to taught him. His skin was tanned and seemed to almost glow in the warm light of the sunset. Averting his eyes quickly, Michael begins to walk again, moving past the other man swiftly. Footsteps ring behind him after a few moments and a heavy hand grips his shoulders. Michael growls audibly, moving out of reach of the touch whilst turning around.

“Gavin.”

That caught him off guard, causing only one stupid word to tumble from his jaws, “What?”

The other man, Gavin presumably, huffs slightly as if the entire situation was funny. “The name’s Gavin Free you twit, “ he repeats, though with more annoyance, still a gentle and playful twinge. He didn’t give Michael any time to answer before he pulled out a small card, a grin breaking through his face. “Give us a call, yeah? I’ve seen your handy work, “ Gavin says, holding out the paper as he continued. “Not to mention, you’re quite the character.”

Hesitation plagues Michael as they stand in the middle of the lobby. People pass, saying nothing, noticing nothing. Here was a man he’s met only once before, but still presented as a stranger to him, speaking of his work. Admittedly, he couldn’t rule out working for one of his friends. However, the odd feeling clung to his stomach. Refused to let go. Leaving Gavin holding his arm out expectantly, Michael takes another step back.

“You’ve seen my work?”

“I see everything, Michael Jones, “ he says in a hushed tone, Michael’s name rolling off his lips with a smirk. It made the other freeze, hands clenched once more into fists. Gavin moves forward, slipping the card in a pocket on his shirt. Suddenly, Michael had his free hand curled around the collar of Gavin’s shirt, pulling him closer to his face.

Mere inches apart, brows furrowed, mouth open in almost a snarl. “Excuse me?” he whispers in a low voice. A small squawk exits the mouth of the British man, Michael stares at himself as the glasses hide Gavin’s eyes. It only fueled the situation. His fingers wrapped tighter around the fabric.

“Trust me, you don’t want to pass this up boi, “ Gavin says in a whisper. “We’ve got work for you, that pays well. “ At the mention of money, Michael lets his grip loosen slightly. Before he could ask exactly how much they were talking, the man struggles free and smooths out his shirt. Michael blinks as Gavin begins to make his way towards the exit. “Call the number on the card, “ he waves over his shoulder as he talks. A few seconds pass before Gavin finally leaves. Leaves Michael in the middle of the lobby with a strange card in his shirt.

Finally, he takes it out, mulling over it with seething eyes. It was a simple black card with a green logo at the top middle. Directly below that read ‘The Fakes’. The Fakes. It wasn’t something that clearly rang bells, but Michael was sure he heard the stupid name before.

“All done. Didn’t get my face smashed in!”

“That’s a shame.”

“Came pretty close to it though. Fire burns in that bois eyes.”

“Great, just the kind of fire we need.”

“How long do you think it will take before he calls?”

“Let’s hope soon.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We send you again.”

“You just want to see him punch me.”

“Maybe.”

The Fakes. It started with small things: pickpocketing and robbing convenience stores. It started with two people: Geoff Lazer Ramsey and Jack Shannon Pattillo. Ramsey, The Kingpin. Ink deep within his skin, running along his arms and littering down his hands and onto his fingers. His face, so recognizable with the almost stereotypical cartoon mustache sitting on his face. Pattillo, The Second. Her ruby red hair and bad bitch vibes made her stand just as high as Kingpin. Almost a year later and their crimes started to become more extreme. Killing people and robbing bigger, badder places. Around these times, rumors spread of their secret Golden Boy. Soon enough, Gavin Free was confirmed to be apart of their crime group. His blond hair, golden glasses, and generally glowing vibe made him truly a mystery to behold. They began to call themselves The Fakes, and the group clearly has no intent to stop growing.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Michael sat on his couch with his laptop on the table, the bright light from the screen gently cascading upon his face. The darkness of the room surrounded the rest of him. Too many tabs were open, littered across his browser with questions and news articles. The soft light made the card in his hand barely readable, however, Michael knew exactly what was on it.

His fingers gently rub across the green logo The Fakes had come to take on. Slowly they slide across the name, then the number. The Golden Boy had stood in his presence, had so boldly made himself known. To Michael. To Michael of all people. There was no doubt that Gavin had the skills as a hacker, seemingly finding his name and location with what truly felt like no problems. The golden child had not been talking about Michael’s skills as an electrician, that was fairly obvious at this point. Michael had tried so hard to erase all of who he used to be, what he had gotten into, and it was resurfacing.

It was The Fakes fault.

One question continued to plague his mind. Why him? Why Michael Jones? There was no doubt he used to be good at what he did, but it has been years. Los Santos was home to so many active criminals, there surely had to be someone who harbored the skills that Michael had. So, why of all people had they tracked down him? He wasn’t that Michael anymore, he was an electrician who did cheap work.

Perhaps, though, he wasn’t too far from who he once was. Brown eyes gently slide across the almost pitch-black room. They settle on the dark figure of the golden bear he stole. He stole. He fought. He would steal from the homes of almost all the people he worked for. He was still a criminal even if it wasn’t as bad.

Michael stands, setting down the card that was in his hands and moved swiftly towards the bear. His hand wraps around it, bringing it closer to his body as his blank stare looked over the object. This was different. This was survival. What he did before wasn’t survival. What The Fakes no doubtably wanted him to do wasn’t survival.

Minutes pass, Michael, standing in the darkness, light sliding over his back where his computer shown, a card in the center of his keyboard. His knuckles were growing white before he realized just how hard he was holding the thing. Suddenly, anger ripped through his chest. It took everything inside him not to throw the statue across the room and hear it shatter with a satisfied grin. A growl emanates from his chest as he places it down and moves back across the room.

A few seconds later, he had the card in his hand and his phone in the other. Fingers hovering over the numbers, head pounding as Michael battles over if he was going to call. If he was going to give in. The computer screen turning black brings Michael back to his senses, the darkness taking over. His fingers type a number and hold the phone to his ear as it rings.

“Michael?” the gentle voice of his friend washes over him, making him let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Her voice sounded groggy and sleepy, causing Michael to frown and glance at the time. Midnight. “Is everything okay?” Aria asks, sounding a little more awake and concerned. Michael opens his mouth to speak, however, the words catch in his throat and suffocate him. Silence passes between them. “Do you need me to come over? Are you in trouble?” Aria asks, a shuffling heard on the other end.

Finally, the words stumble out of his mouth. “No, I’m okay. I’m..” his voice trails off, it sounded strained, not like him. Shuffling on the other end stops. “What do you know about The Fakes?” Michael whispers, leaning back against the couch, putting his other arm across his head and closing his eyes.

“Wh- The Fakes? Like the gang?” confusion emanates from the phone as Aria shifts again. “Why are you asking me about The Fakes? What did you do?” Aria demands suddenly. The change in her tone makes Michael open his eyes, staring into the darkness for a minute.

“Nothing. I didn’t- ah I didn’t do anything,” he growls the last part slightly. “I just saw something on the news and did some research and I- its late, I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence. Michael was starting to dislike silence. He wanted to go back to before he called and put down his phone. He shouldn’t have called her. Aria needed to know nothing about any of this. Yet, for some reason, he did call her. What he wanted, he was unsure, but fear bubbled in his stomach at the thought of hanging up, being left alone again.

“I know that The Fakes are a small gang in Los Santos that has been doing increasingly worse crimes as the years go on. I know that there are three people involved. I don’t know their names, but one has a mustache, one has red hair, and one wears ridiculous golden glasses,” Aria says quietly. Michael chuckles at the last part in a bittersweet way. The golden glasses were going to haunt his every move. “I know that they are very bad people Michael.” The smile fades from his lips as she continues. “Don’t get yourself wrapped up in things you’re going to regret,” Aria whispers.

The card seems to gleam in the darkness, taunting him as Aria speaks softly to him.

“Michael?”

“Aria?” Michael’s voice was strained, almost breathless as his eyes bore into the flimsy paper on his laptop.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise.” he lied.

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lunarlover12 · 5 years

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Taken (Over)

Summary: Michael has been kidnapped by a rival gang and the Fakes are running out of ideas of where he could be. Until a mysterious man shows up and begins a game of Cat and Mouse, showing off he knows a lot more than he should.

Will the Fakes find Michael before it's too late?

Cat and Mouse

Ao3

Nick hung up the phone as he leaned back in the chair, watching as all of the numbers on the computer screen slowly went down to zero. He clicked over to the next tab to see that Michael Jones’ money was in the process of being transferred to one of many accounts that Nick had control over. He would have to wait a few days before moving it again, but at least they were sure to be paying attention now.

“You about done in there, boss?” A female voice sounded in his ear impatiently. He paid it no mind as his eyes wandered over the room, looking for a way to entertain himself while he waited.

The walls were too white and the whole thing was too professional. The only personal thing in there seemed to be a picture of the CEO and his family along with their two small dogs. His hands wandered to the drawers that he pulled open once he bypassed the locks. Files, files, more files. He gave one of the folders with a green star imprinted on the front a passing glance before he tossed it onto the desk and resumed his search.

Some condoms?

He drew his hands back from the desk instantly, the drawer he had been going through snapping shut. Brown eyes searched the desk for any signs there had been… anything fun going on. His gaze went to the glass walls that look out to the hallway.

How did something like that happen in such a visible place like this?

Same way a strange man breaks into the building and makes his way to the CEO’s office without anyone questioning him, he supposed.

They should really work on their security.

“Allison?” He hummed to the empty room in a thick Jersey accent.

“Yeah?” The female’s voice returned from over the Bluetooth, sounding as if she had just stuffed a handful of food into her mouth.

“Remind me to tell the Fakes their security sucks,” he drawled out as he leaned back in the chair once more. He could almost see the redhead roll her eyes in her silence and he chuckled to himself.

Time seemed to crawl by as the numbers on the computer slowly drained to zero. He busied himself by tapping on the desk and looking the room over even though nothing changed. At least the chair was comfortable.

The computer beeped to signal that the transfer was complete. Nick quickly logged out of the accounts and stood up, tucked his glasses back onto his face and put his wide brimmed hat into place. He tightened the gloves he wore before he slipped out of the office, keeping his head down with his hands covering the logo on the folder as people moved past him.

No one seemed to pay him any mind as he made his way through the building. He was almost to the entrance when he stopped dead in his tracks, just out of the camera's field of vision, where he had almost forgotten two of the cameras looked down on the hall where it was near impossible to avoid them when exiting. Someone was walking towards him, already looking at him a little suspiciously. Nick gave the stranger a smile as he continued walking forward. He tilted his head just enough to have his hat block his face from one of the cameras while he held up the hand with the folder in a wave, green star showing proudly towards the other camera to hide his face. The other man gave a small nod in acknowledgement as they passed.

His shoulders sagged once he was safely out of view of the more difficult to avoid cameras. His feet navigated him through the building automatically, Allison's instructions going unnoticed as the familiar halls passed him. He went to round a corner but stopped when he heard the scraping of a chair followed by a woman's exasperated voice. Footsteps started towards him, too close for comfort.

“Fuck. Come and distract Mariel.” He ordered to his partners over the comms. ‘Yes, sir’ came his second’s voice then the soft ringing of the front door opening and closing. He counted to ten before he heard the male voice once more both in his ear and from around the corner. “Um, excuse me, ma’am? Could you help me?” The clicking of high heels stopped briefly before they picked up again to go in the opposite direction. Nick let out the breath he had been holding as he glanced around the corner to make sure her back was to him before he calmly walked out through the front doors with the folder tucked safely under his arm.

He strode halfway down the block where an old beat up pickup truck waited for him. “Let’s go,” he told the driver as soon as he pulled the door open. Allison closed the laptop she had been working on and shot him a look as she wiped the remainder of her chips off her fingers then shoved the empty bag into the middle console and out of her way.

“You know? You could always be just a little bit nicer, it really wouldn’t kill you,” she said, turning the truck on and putting it into gear. She tossed the laptop onto his lap and he cracked it open to peek inside only to have it slammed shut again with a pointed look from his hacker. “Hands off my stuff.” Even though her words were harsh, her tone didn’t hold any heat and the corner of her mouth tilted upwards. Nick held up his hands and leaned back in his seat.

“I mean, technically, that's mine.” He shrugged his shoulders as she huffed in response, flicking her red hair out of her eyes.

A couple of blocks passed them peacefully before Nick rolled down his window and tossed out the burner phone he had been using. Allison followed suit shortly after and he saw her glance at him from the corner of her eye. “What now?” She asked.

“Now we put pressure on ‘em. How much you wanna bet they react just like I said they will?” Allison gave out a laugh as she shook her head, flipping her hair out of her face as she did so.

“No way, man. You seem to have some weird sixth sense with them. There’s no way I’m going against that.”

Gavin sat up straight, his fingers moving before he even had time to fully register what was going on. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as he searched for the alarm going off that had woken him up. He didn’t remember dozing off, but he had to swipe at a little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. He clicked through the many tabs on the two screens in front of him until he found what the noise was and felt his body wake up like a shock had passed through him. “Geoff!” He called loudly into the hallway.

He was about to yell again but was interrupted when Geoff rushed through the door. “What? What is it, Gav?” He asked, voice thick with sleep. It made a pang of guilt go through Gavin’s chest at having woken him up, but this was important. He tabbed over to what had originally caused the alarm to go off.

“I’ve been tracking Michael’s money. Y’know, case whoever took him also wanted his money.” He tapped on the screen. “Someone made a request 12 minutes ago to transfer all of his money into a different account,” he explained. A hand appeared on his shoulder but he paid no mind to it as he clicked over to a different tab. “This is what it was transferred to. Some offshore account somewhere in Belize.”

“Can you tell whose it is?” Geoff whispered, his grip on Gavin’s shoulder tight as he leaned over the top of his head to try to make sense of what was on the screens. Gavin studied him in the reflection. Geoff looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes slightly better than they used to be but still bad. His hair was disheveled from sleeping but his eyes were alert, scanning the screen for some kind of understanding. Geoff looked past the words on the monitor to meet Gavin’s gaze and Gavin gave him a grin through his own mirrored image.

“Geoff, who do you think I am, Geoffrey? Of course I can! Just give me a bit to hack into their systems.” He watched as Geoff stood up straight once more before collapsing on the bean bag chair that had usually been reserved for Michael while he waited. His brows furrowed at the familiar yet different sight until he forced his attention back to the task at hand.

They sat in silence while he worked, so quiet he almost forgot that Geoff was still there. “Why would they move the money now, after all this time?” he wondered aloud. Gavin’s fingers paused over the keyboard momentarily as he pursed his lips.

“Could be they’re out of funds. Need boi’s money to fund some of their stuff?” He suggested. Geoff hummed distractedly.

“A group big enough to take down Michael and elude us for so long? They’d have to have plenty of money and resources. This has been going on for what? Little over a year at this point?”

Gavin turned around in his chair so quickly it made Geoff jump. “You think it's the same gang.” He merely nodded and Gavin narrowed his eyes as he mulled that over. He spun around once more and tossed tracking the account to the side. Instead, he began combing through the files he had saved that contained anything relevant to the Unseen gang.

He went through a handful of news articles and police reports until he found what he was looking for. He moved to the side so the other man could see the screen better. “Meredith’s body was found two weeks after we got Michael back the last time.”

“We sure it's her?” Geoff asked.

“Yup. Had our guy do another round of tests just to make sure.”

“Find out who's in charge now.”

“Already on it.” Gavin moved back to his spot to continue on his work while Geoff sat quietly behind him. Neither spoke, a comfortable silence falling over them.

It was nice, Gavin thought, to have someone in the room again while he worked. Even if they weren't talking or poking around obnoxiously at his stuff, it was nice. Peaceful, even.

At some point, a plate had appeared beside him with leftover food that Jeremy had made the other night alongside another can of Redbull. He looked over his shoulder to thank Geoff only to see the other man asleep on the bean bag chair. Gavin gave a small smile to himself before he turned back to the computer to continue his work.

“Be careful. A lot of the others have been having trouble lately.” His boss’ words rang through Vincent's head, his grip tightened on the bag as he scanned the area.

He was paranoid. KC had made him paranoid. Sure, a couple of the others had gotten targeted in the last couple of weeks but that didn't mean anything. He had been just fine until now, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him.

What were the odds he was next?

He glanced down at his phone to see the time before quickening his pace. He would have to hurry if he was going to make the trade-off with Reggie by nine.

He wove his way through the streets he had grown familiar with, cutting through alleyways and backyards as shortcuts until he reached the beach just off of the pier. He slowed his pace to a more casual one as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and let his gaze drag over the area.

It had grown dark in the time it had taken him to get there. The lights from the rides and booths glistened off the water, enticing those passing by to stop in and join the fun. Even from where he stood, Vincent could hear the mess of laughter and chatter from everyone on the pier with the occasional scream as the rollercoaster no doubt set off again.

People crowded the pier- mostly couples and tourists. He glanced to the side as he walked past the shadowed areas- half expecting someone to jump out and mug him- to see some people making out, some shadier guys hanging around, and a handful of workers hiding from responsibilities in favor of having a smoke. The wood shook under his feet as the rollercoaster came screeching by above him, screams and hollers making it impossible to hear anything for a moment.

He made his way past that to the other side of the pier where Reggie stood behind the ferris wheel, lighting a cigarette. He stepped into one of the darker areas to go around the crowd of people waiting in line for it. He stepped back out into the light, pulling one of his arms out of the bag’s loops so he could dig though it for the drugs.

The bag slacked only a little before it was pulled taut once again, the force making him stagger backwards. A hand gripped his arm roughly before his gun was lifted from his waistband to be pressed firmly against his back.

Reggie seemed to have caught the movement, having dropped the cigarette so he could use the hand to grab the gun stashed in his side holster.

The rollercoaster roared above them once more, almost muffling the sound of a gunshot had it not came from right behind him, and he watched as Reggie dropped to the ground before he could even touch the gun.

Vincent froze, eyes stuck on the body now before him, and swallowed hard. A pull on the bag brought him out of his daze as a harsh female voice reached his ears. “Let go of the fucking drugs.” Adrenaline rushed through his body and for a fleeting second, he thought about fighting. But the sensible side of him had him releasing his grip on the bag and stumbling forward from a push. He glanced behind him to see two women standing behind him. He had walked right past them earlier in the dark and hadn't paid them any attention.

The taller one had his gun which was currently pointed at him, her dark eyes cold and completely focused on Vincent. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, black strands with white ends sticking out in a way that still seemed put together. She had on a leather jacket that he now recognized as Mogar’s.

How had he missed that before?

The woman silently handed the bag over to the other one. The shorter one eagerly dug through it, grinning up at the one with the gun. “S’all there.” Her blue eyes turned back towards Vincent as she tilted her head. Her free hand shifted to push her glasses back into place with a hum. “Wanna kill him?” She asked, as casually as if she were talking about the weather. The other woman regarded the smaller one for a moment and Vincent took the distraction to look around for an escape, slowly backing up.

His attention was quickly brought back up to their faces when he heard the sound of the gun’s safety click. He held up his hands and backed up some more. “Woah. Hey, lady,” he tried.

His foot hit something soft. And although he told himself not to, he instinctively glanced down to see Reggie and let out a loud gag. The two muggers shared a look before turning back to him. The tall one with the gun strode forward towards him and he held his arms up over his head to shield himself from whatever was coming, squeezing his eyes closed. The sound of something being moved and then the sploosh as it was tossed into the water.

He opened his eyes again, curiosity making him look around to see what she had done. Reggie’s body was gone and the woman was now walking back from the edge of the pier. Her gaze fell over him as she walked past to the blonde who stood waiting, fingers tapping impatiently. “Let's go,” she ordered and the shorter fell into step with her.

They blended into the oblivious crowd seamlessly then disappeared from view.

Once they were gone and Vincent broke out of his daze, he immediately dug through his pockets for his phone, cursing at himself when he couldn’t find it right away. He dialed the only number programmed into it, pacing back and forth as it rang. He didn’t give KC a chance to answer before he spilled everything that had just happened.

They were all cluttered around the table in the heist room, heads bent down and pursed lips. The same table they’d used hundreds of times before while planning hits or heists and had never once been so huddled around until now.

On the table were a stack of papers, haphazardly placed. At the top sat a folder of Michael’s finances. Geoff finished the rundown of the offshore account when Gavin tossed another folder onto the pile. There, a picture of a man stared at them with jet black shoulder length hair that fell in front of his face, brown eyes looking straight at the camera, and a scar running across his nose and the middle of his upper lip. He had a crude smile painted on his face and Jack felt almost as if he were looking directly at them.

“Paul Overton, owns the account Michael’s money went into. Recently moved to Los Santos from New Jersey. Might be an unhappy old crew member of his? They don’t seem to have any ties to each other but there’s always a possibility.” Gavin informed them, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he glared at the stranger’s face. “Already got a police record here for reckless driving and attempted murder to go along with his warrants back in Jersey and New York.”

Another folder got added to the pile. This one contained one of the buildings under their protection, one of the many places they use to launder money and that gave them certain information they had access to. “This is where the transfer was made from. Traced the call they made to the bank back to here and went through the company’s histories to find they used the CEO’s computer to log into both accounts.”

“Good. That means we probably got Paul on camera right? We could follow him from there? Or track his phone?” Jack asked hopefully, already moving to the tv where Gavin had the security footage from the building paused. The hacker let out a sigh and ran the footage.

They all watched silently as Paul entered the building before walking right up to Mariel to speak with her briefly before turning and walking back out. Jack felt his shoulders fall as a heavy weight settled over him. “But,” Gavin started, “there was someone else.” He clicked some buttons to bring up a different camera somewhere further into the building where someone was making their way to the front entrance.

“He knew exactly where the cameras were.” Geoff pointed out as they saw whoever this person was dodge out of the camera’s view or turn his head to avoid being seen. Gavin stopped it again as they held up the file with the Fake’s logo on it.

“He's taunting us.” Jeremy sneered.

“Yup.” Gavin popped the ‘p’ in frustration. He switched to the outside camera where they followed him to a pickup truck that they lost after only a few blocks. They could see the remains of a phone being thrown out on one of the angles to be run over immediately by another vehicle. That was, Gavin informed them, where the phone used to make the call’s signal disappeared. A silence fell over them before Jack couldn't take it anymore.

“What was in the file? Who took it?” he asked.

“We're not sure yet. They're doing inventory to see what was taken. We should know by morning.” Geoff glanced over at Gavin before turning to them once more. “We think this is the Unseen’s doing.” He told them. Jack furrowed his brow, sharing a startled look with Ryan.

“I thought Meredith died.” Ryan stated. Gavin nodded.

“She did. We think Paul's the one who took her out and claimed the gang for himself.”

There was a sharp knock on the door before Trevor’s face peeked in. His lips were in a tight line and a hard look in his eyes made Jack's stomach tighten. He locked onto Geoff and nodded towards the tv. “Turn the news on.” They all grew quiet as Jack fumbled with the remote to turn it to the news station. There, the normal bright flashing lights of the Del Perro pier were being drowned out by the red and blue of the police’s.

“-found earlier this evening, apparently having been pulled from the water, at the Del Perro amusement park behind the ferris wheel with a gunshot wound to the chest. It appears to be gang related, which is no surprise since sources say the body has been identified as one of the notorious Fake AH Crew’s runners. We’ve been told his name is Reginald Arraulo, mostly known as Reggie-”

“Shit.” Ryan cursed. Trevor grunted as he stepped into the room and put his hands on his hips.

“I don't know why, but they left the runner that was making the hand-off to Reggie alive.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is the third of ours that has been killed this month and we’ve had about 30 jobs go wrong. Someone is targeting us and stealing our supplies.”

They all stared at each other in a tense silence until Geoff stepped up to the head of the table.

“Ryan, Jeremy, Mi-.” He broke off, face crumpling as he caught what he was about to say. He cleared his throat then continued as if that didn't happen and everyone let him. “You guys up for playing bodyguard for the runners?” They made various noises of agreement, though not nearly as enthusiastic as they might once have been. “Try to get one or two of them alive. We might be able to get some information out of them to figure out what the fuck’s going on.” Geoff ordered, clapping his hands together.

“You two focus on staying alive out there. Gavvers, keep trying to find out more about this Paul guy, see if they took or did anything else from the CEO computer. Jack, hit the streets and try to find out how these guys know where the hand-offs are taking place and which guys are ours.” A grim expression passed over his face as he glanced up at the screen with the news on one side and the surveillance footage of Paul on the other. “I’m going to try to set up a meeting with this guy to get a read off of him.”

“Geoff,” Jeremy started, snapping his mouth shut when everyone’s attention shifted to him. He shifted in his chair as his eyes darted to each of them before going back to Geoff's. “Do you think… maybe Michael told them?”

Everyone went quiet as they considered the possibility.

“Of course not! Boi's made it through worse, he won't break now!” Gavin defended although his voice didn't hold near as much confidence as his words did. He sat down in the nearest chair, his wide eyes scanning the room before they landed on Jack for reassurance. “Right?”

Jack moved to stand behind him to put a hand on his shoulders and gave a comforting squeeze. “Gav, he was with them for three months last time and he's been gone for almost six months now. I'm sure he's lasted longer than most of us would but none of us would hold it against him if..” He trailed off. He couldn't finish the sentence, not with the way Gavin was looking at him like he'd just kicked a puppy.

There was a long pause before Geoff cleared his throat, turning back around to face Trevor. “I want to talk to the kid.”

Nick sat on the couch in his office, head resting on his hand, swirling a glass of whiskey in the other. His eyes were focused on the screens in front of him, the room otherwise dark beside the little bit of light coming in from the window. On the left played the news, still reporting about the hand-off gone wrong at the pier. The right had the city’s camera feed going currently zoomed in on one in particular. The Vagabond was slinking around in the shadows, following one of the runners to make sure they stayed safe this late at night. He made a mental note to tell the others about the new development in the morning.

His attention went to the screen in the middle. The one that had the inside of the Fake’s headquarters on it. It showed the little room Free did his computer work in, the hacker hunched over in his seat as he worked. He couldn’t see the man’s face from this angle but from the slouch of his shoulders and the occasional bobbing of his head, he had fallen asleep.

Nick glanced off to the side to where a calendar hung. Nothing written down on it- he wasn’t stupid- but the days that passed were crossed off in a green marker. It was nearing the end of the month, meaning Free would be going through the security systems any day now to make sure nothing had been hacked into and everything was as secure as possible.

Which meant they would have to go back inside and rewire themselves in once more if they wanted to keep their feed going.

Nick stood from the large leather couch pressed against the wall to brush past the long coffee table in the middle of the room. He weaved through two leather chairs to move behind the desk they were facing, glancing out of the floor-to-ceiling window behind it. He looked down at Los Santos below him, the smattering of lights a comforting view he had long since gotten used to.

He turned away from that to sit down in the plush rolling chair. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the laptop sitting on top of the desk open. The light washed over his face as it turned on, bathing him in blue and lighting the room up a little more. “‘Ey. Got everything scrambled yet?” He asked to no one in the room, his Jersey accent wavering slightly. There was a crackling in his ear before Allison's voice answered, seemingly unaware.

“Almost. Hold on… Aaaand.” He could hear the tapping of the keyboard as she worked. “There!”

He typed in the command previously given to him by the hacker out on the keyboard before hitting enter, his attention back on the screens hung up on the wall, hitting a button on the nearby remote to make the middle image blow up to fit onto all three. There, Free’s head fell to the side right as all of the alarms inside their penthouse went off. He jerked awake once more and shook the sleep out of his head before his motions froze as he presumably saw the chaos on his computer. Nick’s lips twitched upwards at the sight.

The Golden Boy surged forward to his keyboard where he began shutting the alarms off after making sure nothing else was awry. Geoff burst into the room and Nick could see their mouths moving and wished, not for the first time, he could read lips.

A knock on the door pulled Nick’s attention away. “What?” he called lazily. It creaked open enough for a head to poke through. A scarred face peered back at him, dark brown eyes alight with excitement. With a motion from his hand, the door slid shut behind the man as he made his way closer. He plopped down in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk with a grin.

“Ramsey wants to meet.” Paul shared, giving a wide grin. Nick reached up to turn the Bluetooth in his ear off before pulling it out and setting it beside the laptop.

“When?” He dropped the accent as he leaned back in his chair.

“Day after tomorrow. Wants it to be just us.” The other scoffed with a shake of his head. “You comin', right?”

Nick shook his head after some thought. “Not directly. I can't risk letting them see me before I'm ready. But I'll listen in and talk to you if I can. Though if I know the Fakes any, they'll probably have Free set up jammers beforehand.”

Paul's shoulders sank as he leaned his head back with a groan. “Then that means-”

“Unless,” Nick interrupted, “Ally can get there after Free's left and hack into it before the meeting.” He grinned. He shifted forward in his chair, feet falling to the floor. “Text Allison when and where the meeting is supposed to be. Have Tiffany or Courtney be lookout for her if they're not busy."

“Shouldn't be too hard with everything else goin' on, huh?” He smiled, the scar on his face making it look more like a grimace.

Nick huffed in amusement. “Don't get too full of yourself, your head doesn't need to get any bigger.” He shook his head. “Could you ask Allison to bring that chip in before she heads home? I need it tomorrow.” He asked. Paul merely nodded.

“Sure thing boss.”

Geoff was lost in thought, staring at the turned off computer without seeing it when he heard a soft ‘he's here’. He turned in his chair to see Ryan poking his head into the room, the skull mask pulled over his head. The door opened wider and a man stepped in.

The first thing that Geoff noticed was the scraggly beard hiding his face with its long curly brown hair. The next was the big round Harry Potter-esque glasses and then the beanie covering his head. He fidgeted with his hands, his shoulders tense, and he seemed to curl into himself under anyone's gaze.

What a great choice for a runner. He could blend right in with a crowd of people.

Geoff motioned to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, the boy hesitating for a second too long before slumping into one. “Vincent, I assume?” The kid nodded sheepishly. Geoff tried for a reassuring smile, tried to loosen his muscles to seem relaxed. “Tell me what happened.” He ordered.

While Vincent recalled the events of the shooting, Geoff studied him. He was a hard man to read with a lot of his facial features obscured. Was that on purpose? He instantly regretted passing over Gavin’s offer to sit in on the meeting. He could really use the Golden Boy’s impeccable sense of judging character.

Vincent stuttered over his words and his eyes never stayed on Geoff’s for longer than a few sentences. He never sat still either, making it hard for Geoff to decide if he was lying or just an anxious fucker.

“And after, I called KC and told him about it,” he finished.

“Tell me, Vinny-”

“Uh, it’s Vincent.”

“-if you had the drugs, why didn’t they shoot you? Why keep you alive?” Geoff asked and the boy seemed to freeze. His eyes got wide as he stared at Geoff, mouth open in a small o.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he admitted, eyes on the ground. His brows were furrowed and he seemed to be thinking hard about it. “They took my gun? Maybe they knew I wasn't a threat?” It wasn’t until he looked back up did Geoff speak again.

“I suggest you think hard about it. They left you alive for a reason. I really don’t want Vagabond to get a hold of one of my own men.” That seemed to get an honest reaction out of him, the boy jerking forward and shaking his head.

“No, please. I swear I don’t know. They just- they just left. Didn’t say nothing or anything,” he rushed out. Geoff leaned forward in his chair to analyze him. Vincent's eyes flickered between his and anything else until Geoff gave a soft nod.

“I believe you,” he smiled. “Hope you don’t mind the small interrogation. Business, y’know.” He laughed and Vincent gave a halfhearted chuckle in response. “You’re free to go.” He stood up from his chair to stride over to the door, opening it politely for Vincent who sat there for a moment in confusion before standing and rushing out of the door.

He looked over the kid’s head to Jeremy making his way down the hall. Once he met his eyes, Geoff nodded towards Vincent and mouthed ‘watch him’.

The door shut behind him as he exited Ramsey's office, head bowed down so that Vagabond couldn’t see his face. He looked up when a pair of shoes entered his visual to come face to face with a bald head, sunglasses, and the cockiest smile he's ever seen. He let out a soft gasp as his right hand searched his waistband for the gun he usually had hidden there before remembering the girls had stolen it.

Another hand gripped his wrist tightly. “I wouldn't do that if I were you, kid.” Rimmy Tim whispered low, eyes impossible to see behind those glasses.

“S-sorry. You scared me.” Vincent let out in a shaky laugh as he brought his hand back up to rub at where the other had held him once that iron grip was released. “I guess I'm still a little jumpy from-” he paused to clear his throat, “-the other night.” He tore his eyes away from Tim's face to glance at the ground.

He couldn't help but notice the other wasn't wearing his notorious cowboy boots or signature orange and purples. His gaze flickered up to see the cowboy hat also missing, eyes focused just over the top of Vincent’s head.

Tim turned his attention back to him and his smile became more sincere as he reached out to clasp his shoulder. “You're stuck with me today. So why don't we start with your name, kid?”

Vincent could only stare in confusion until he remembered how to work his mouth. “Stuck with... You? What d’ya mean?” He questioned.

“You know. To help with those attacks! I'm your big bad bodyguard today! Look, I'll go first. Name's Jeremy. And you are..?” Rimmy T- Jeremy leaned closer. It felt almost as if they were sharing secrets.

“I'm, uh, Vincent.” He forced out while his mind worked in overtime. He had to have a bodyguard? It must be because of what happened with Reggie, but he hadn’t anticipated such action. He had figured it would only be at night when most of the attacks had occurred.

“Nice to meet you Uh, Vincent! Where are we headed to first?”

“No it's just-” He gave up and resisted the urge to drag his hands down his face. “I gotta meet KC to pick up the drugs at the warehouse. On the other side of town.”

“Ah!” Jeremy made a sweeping motion with his arm towards the door, a visual ‘lead the way’. Vincent stuffed his hands into his pockets and tilted his head so he could see the Fake out of the corner of his eye. “You gonna be right up my ass all day?” he questioned.

“Only if you want me to be.” Rimmy Tim said with a wink. Vincent rolled his eyes before slowing his pace to fall into step with his bodyguard. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

Vincent pulled out his phone and brought up the messages from KC. He angled the phone so Jeremy could look over his shoulder if he wanted to, giving a soft chuckle as the other moved closer to satisfy his curiosity. He took his left hand out of his pocket as he moved closer, scrolling through the messages with his right. “We gotta meet him at the warehouse and got a meeting with Lucy right after just down the street. Butch is after that over at his place,” he mindlessly listed off his routine, “then it’s mainly whatever else KC has. He’ll pass it off to the rest of us to pawn off to our people or give us whatever last minute deals he needs to be ran out.”

Jeremy shifted away from him as his eyes lazily ran over the immediate area. “And you haven’t had any problems until yesterday? But the attacks have been happening for at least a week or two now.” He didn’t try to hide the accusatory tone and Vincent didn’t pretend it didn’t bother him. He shoved his phone back into his pocket before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Who says that’s the first? First time someone died maybe, but I’ve had my share of trouble.” He spat back, narrowing his eyes at the Fake.

They had stopped walking at some point in favor of staring each other down. Finally, Jeremy put his hands up. “Look buddy, no harm. Something’s not adding up with all this shit, ya know?” They both relaxed simultaneously and continued walking, Vincent fiddling with the phone in his hands.

“Nah, it’s cool. It’s just… Reggie was my friend. We ran together a couple of times and went out to grab some food or drinks afterwards.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes on the ground as they walked in silence, breaking only when KC greeted them as they stepped into the warehouse.

They had managed to do all of their assigned deals without any issues and were now working on ridding the last of what they had to some of Vincent’s regulars.

Vincent turned away from his client, counting out the money he had received. He moved towards the alleyway where Rimmy Tim stayed a little ways back to ‘keep an eye out’. He tucked the money into his back pocket and grinned up at Jeremy.

“Duck!” The Fake yelled and Vincent moved instantly, dropping to the ground hard enough it skinned his palms. He heard the bullet hit the building to his left then the gunshot, way too close for comfort. His arms instantly rose to offer protection as he tried to move into cover.

He ducked behind a dumpster as more shots went off. He peeked around the corner to try to find Jeremy, only to see a man poke his head out to fire wildly at the dumpster he hid behind. Vincent jerked back to safety and was greeted with Jeremy's hand in his face.

Jeremy had his other hand clenched over his side which had blood slowly seeping out. When Vincent didn't move, he grunted and grabbed his arm. Something hit the back of their cover that didn't sound like a bullet and the Fake glanced over the top to see what it was when his eyes went wide.

“Come on, let’s go! Let’s go!” Jeremy hissed, tugging on his arm harshly to get him to move. Vincent followed the other’s lead, slinking into the shadows with practiced motions and trying to keep up. An explosion went off and they both stumbled against the wall before running faster until there wasn’t any noise behind them besides the general buzz of the city life. They eventually slowed, Jeremy looking him over with almost frantic motions. “You okay?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Vincent nodded before holding out his hand that held a cell phone, “but you dropped your phone.”

Ryan grunted as he pulled the mask away from his face. He tossed it onto the table beside him before he ran a bloodied hand through his tousled hair. His eyes trailed up to the others in the room to see the curious and worried faces of the crew, instantly forcing himself to loosen up and grin.

“So, I accidentally killed one,” he started off with a chuckle. “He didn't have much that we didn't already know. Except Paul's not the boss.” Jack threw a rag at him that he caught, meticulously wiping the blood off of his hands.

“What?” Gavin hissed out. Ryan nodded as he plopped down into a nearby chair.

“Apparently Paul gets his orders from someone else- he didn't know who. Paul just refers to him as ‘Boss’. And he didn't know where Michael is being held, said that there's only a small group who actually do.”

Geoff had started to pace in front of the table. “So we've got nothing,” he growled. Ryan held up a hand that stopped Geoff's movements.

“The other one said something about a Nick. He'd only heard the name once when Paul was on the phone, but it sounded important.” Gavin had already begun typing into the laptop in front of him.

“This kid was also one of the ones who helped take out Reggie. He was their lookout and getaway driver. Apparently it was very heavily stressed to not kill Vincent but everyone else was fair game.”

“But,” Jack spoke, shifting Ryan’s gaze to him, “he said he didn’t know anything. Right, Geoff?” he asked. Their leader shook his head and gave a glance towards Jeremy. The two shared a look before Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t notice anything.” Jeremy said, which made Geoff purse his lips. “Well, except one thing? I don't know how much it means though.”

“Which is?” Ryan prompted.

“Jack noticed a lot of them got attacked at the very start of their route, bag full of drugs. We got attacked right after his last deal for that batch.”

“Yeah but that also fits with a couple of others.” Jack sighed.

“I don’t know,” Geoff huffed out, running a hand over his face. “I couldn’t get a good read from him during our ‘talk’.” He glanced around the room, making eye contact with each of them then to the ground. “He’s our best bet to finding Michael, though.” He squared his shoulders and looked up to Ryan once more. “Follow him.”

“Can I shower first?” he questioned, waving at his clothes currently stained with a dark red. Geoff smirked at him with a soft ‘yeah’.

Ryan nodded as he gestured over to Gavin. “Where’s he at?”

“He's back at the warehouse waiting on the next batch but I’ll update you again once you get going.”

After a quick shower, he was sent on his way across town to the business district. Ryan roamed the streets for a few blocks until he spotted the scraggly beard hidden amidst the suits of businessmen and women. He parked the car a block away, Gavin chattering away in his ear, eyes scanning over the crowd distractedly.

He never realized how uninteresting of a life a runner had until now and he couldn’t be more glad that he was able to ensure chaos as much as he was able to. Vincent just walked from one place to the next to make deals and it was so boring, it was getting harder and harder to believe he could ever be part of some scheme for anything.

A stop at a McDonalds for some food. Another deal. A porn shop. Another deal. And another deal. Back to the Fake’s warehouse. At some point, Ryan turned off the earpiece to silence the constant chatter in his head when nothing of import was happening. Finally, after the sun had set and it had gotten dark, Vincent began making his way out of the business area and towards the residential side of town. He was on his phone so much it was a wonder he didn’t run into anything or anyone.

Ryan followed him to some cheap motel. Watching him through the windows, it seemed like he’d been living there for a while. He moved with a familiarity that came from someone moving through their home.

He knew Geoff paid everyone fairly. Surely more than enough to at least rent a decent apartment.

He pushed his earpiece on once more. “Gavin? Mind looking up Vincent’s finances for me?” He asked the empty car. Reaching behind to the backseat, he grabbed a bag of chips he had recently bought and settled in. He could be here for a while.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Not sure. I’ve just got a feelin’,” he mused, popping a chip into his mouth. He could hear the faint clicking of the keyboard on the other side. Vincent moved back and forth in front of the window before pulling the curtains closed. The light from the tv turned on but that was all he could see now.

“He’s got quite a bit saved up. Doesn’t seem to spend much money, but he probably mostly uses cash.”

“He lives in a motel.” Gavin hummed in response then was muffled as he made an offhand comment to someone else.

There was movement across the parking lot, just a couple getting out of a car. He took the opportunity to scan the area again, something making the hair on his arms stand up. A couple of prostitutes walked down the street while a man walked his dog on the other side. A sedan pulled up and dropped off two females who seemed oddly familiar even though Ryan couldn't place them. They made their way to Vincent’s room before going in, the blonde seeming to have a key. Ryan sat up in interest and focused on the window, hoping to see more movement.

“Two girls just went in to his room. I need you to find out who they are, I feel like I've seen them before.” He ordered.

“Ryan-” some noise distracted him from what Gavin was saying, having tensed up and straining to hear everything around him. He glanced over his shoulder where it came from but didn’t see anything and he double-checked that his doors were still locked. He set the bag of chips aside and shook his head.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, eyes back on the window where he could see someone standing in front of it.

He was too keyed up for some reason. Something was very clearly wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

“Ryan, listen to me, you mong. Vincent Gardel has only existed for a few months. There’s no trace of him before that, I can’t even figure out who he was before or where he came from.” Ryan tensed at the words and glanced out his windows again. A couple of figures were walking towards the motel in the shadows, too dark to tell if they were male or female at that distance, moving too quickly to be casual. He reached down to the middle console and grabbed onto the pistol in there, feeling a little better with it in his hands.

The driver side window shattered and he whipped his head around in time to see the butt of a gun before a sharp pain exploded in his head and the world went black.

#luna writes #taken (over)#fahc au #implied torture #violence #kidnapping #michael jones #gavin free #jeremy dooley #geoff ramsey #jack pattillo #ryan haywood #trevor collins #original characters #minor character death #first chapter is finally up!!#now time to go start chapter two lmao #i hope you guys like it #because i got two more chapters coming eventually

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