I need to know about the illegal streetcar racing au
WOOHOO TWO FOR TWO!!! hello seanagh and healy let me tell you about the street racing au!!!
there's a vidya here for a bit of a nice little imagined intro
BUT! the world is inspired by a lot of crime games i play like payday 2 and gtav as well as the first few fast and furious movies (incl. tokyo drift).
despite the title, it is not only about street racing. street racing is a major factor (afterall, the skills as f1 drivers kinda transfer over). there's a whole bunch of crime that the drivers partake in like drugs, blackmailing, weapons trafficking, and also some good old robbery! they're also in their own little crime orgs, with loyalties and backstabbing and more. big corruption and evil shit.
one crime org is losing money to their rival gang....and they have to find a way to make those profits back fast....little do they know there's a mastermind to this whole thing. ends in a massive heist.....oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
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introduction???
Welcome to my blog!! I'm Aristo and here's some info about me:
-I use all pronouns
-VERY multifandom but currently the most active in the Far Cry 5 + New Dawn fandom
-Other fandoms I'm in include GTAV, Better Call Saul, Breaking Bad, Agents of SHIELD, WWDITS, Good Omens, Terra Nova, Pokémon, and many MANY more...
-my asks n shit are open, go ham idc (sorry if i dont respond to it for a while, i dont check them often)
-i'll tag this post with some specific tags i use (AUs, shitposting, etc.)
last updated 28/12/2023
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The Interview
A/N: a little something because I have this resident evil x grand theft auto v au and I really wanna share some of it I guess so enjoy. And yes… my alt fc for heisenberg is bradely cooper… get over it <3
Rated M for mentions of drugs, prostitution, and other classic GTAV themes.
It’s just a stupid interview. How hard can it be?
Except the interview is with the IAA in the heart of Los Santos and Karl has a long history of drugs, assault, soliciting, and various misdemeanors behind him. Behind him, hell, no one had ever said he had quit. Except Miranda is damned well determined to turn him into some sort of man, even if he’s let her down time and time again. She’s the only reason he’s here in the first place.
Things would be so much easier if it were her giving the interview.
Karl doesn’t even know what kind of job it is he’s applying for. All he knows is that Miranda told him he was going with no other choice and to “dress nice.” Ironic considering he hasn’t lived at her home in almost twenty years and still she treats him like a child. And still he lets her.
He blames it purely on needing money for his next fix. He can’t keep getting on his knees every time he’s short on cash.
It’s been over thirty minutes since his originally scheduled time and still he sits in the lobby of the glamorous building, one he feels incredibly out of place in. It’s far too nice, too shiny, too upscale for a man of his low quality. He lives out in Sandy Shores in a trailer for fucks sake, he’s lucky he even had a decent looking suit. And after all the trouble he’s gone through they have the audacity to leave him waiting for over half an hour. That’s the problem with the upper class, they have some for themselves and themselves only, everyone else be damned as long as they get what they want. It’s the perfect environment for Miranda, no wonder she’s thrived so well in it, so high up he’s not even allowed to know what she truly does. Science and research, that’s all he knows.
Unlike Alcina. Now there’s a rich bitch who’s not afraid to let you know her standing. She’s long been a member in and out of the spotlight even before Karl had been adopted. Now he can’t escape her face, despite not having talked to her in nearly ten years, plastered all over billboards from downtown to Paleto Bay. If he’s truly unlucky the radio will have one of her songs on. Good thing he’s always hated jazz.
Not that his other siblings are any better.
Salvatore spends his days ever trying to achieve higher and higher education, seemingly chasing after the status Miranda has in scientific and medical research. All while his nights are spent wasting away being overworked at the hospital in Pillbox Hill. The only reason Karl has seen him more often than the others is because he’s been nice enough to help him out in the times Karl didn’t have insurance, especially the time he’d almost overdosed with the wrong crowd. Otherwise, they’ve never cared for each other. Sal has always viewed himself as smarter than Karl and Karl has always found him idiotic for playing so deeply into the rat race that Los Santos thrives on.
Donna wasn’t different either. While not the first to leave their childhood home she wasn’t the last. Karl had been the last. He had stayed as long as he could get away with until Miranda threw him out for his behavior. Donna always resented how he had treated their adoptive mother, claimed she had given them everything and dug Karl out of his grave time and time again yet still he treated her as if she were the devil. Whatever help his siblings received from her he sure missed out on, it felt like Miranda had given up on him a long time ago and only helped him when it made her look good. And even Donna got tired of him eventually. She packed up and found herself a nice house, even started a crafting business right on the busiest road in all of downtown Los Santos.
They were all doing well for themselves.
And Karl?
Even after adoption there had been no escape from the issues the system had caused him. Hooked on drugs and lost in alcohol he’d found when neglected, running with the same “friends” from high school who showed him how to smoke cigarettes other people threw away. He’s the only one who ever saw the truth behind Miranda’s shiny promises that she could save them. All she ever did was adopt a bunch of kids with different ethnic backgrounds to seem diverse and merciful. Alcina was Romanian, Salvatore was Spanish, Donna was French, and Karl was just some kid abandoned without a last name and only a DNA test to tell him his parents hadn’t even been legal. He wasn’t special and he never would be. He never tried to get out of what he’d been pulled into because there was no point. Most employers saw his history of DUIs and sex work and wouldn’t touch him.
The fact that Miranda even landed him this interview was a miracle in itself.
And while the trailer he lives in is a piece of shit he does enjoy having a roof over his head. If he somehow pulls this off then at least some of his income will go towards rent. He’d blow it all on weed eventually anyway but he doesn’t want to be crashing on his dealer’s couch. No matter how nice of a guy Louis can be.
It seems like eternity but he’s finally called back to some pompous asshole’s office. Sitting on the opposite side of a desk from someone reminds him of all the years in high school he’d managed to get called to the office.
“So, let’s start off with your name,” says the overly self confident woman perched behind the shiny oak desk. She stares down at paperwork through glasses that probably cost more than his last water bill and her hair is pulled tightly into a ponytail Karl imagines is causing a headache resulting in her foul and bored expression.
He already doesn’t want to be here, he should have left ages ago, should have just told Miranda ‘no thanks’.
“It’s Karl,” he says, “A K not a C.” Clarification, right off the bat, years of fighting with elementary and high school teachers who refused to spell it correctly.
“Karl…?” She draws out, looking at him expectantly. She had the paperwork right in front of her, couldn’t she read his name?
“Heisenberg, Karl Heisenberg,” the last name he made up when he was nine. Whatever parents he had that abandoned him in this stupid city hadn’t been legal and fled without a trace. A DNA test he did for third grade science was the only reason he knew he was German. Heisenberg had sounded German enough to him back then. The courts accepted it well enough. He never changed it, not even when he was later adopted.
None of them had changed their last names for that matter.
“Right, Mr. Heisenberg,” she frowns as she flits through the papers tucking them neatly into a folder then placing it neatly on her desk before folding her hands atop it, “I understand your request for interview for this position came from a very high up source but even with that your outcome isn’t bright.”
Great.
“You have virtually no qualifications and frankly your record with the police department is enough to deter the organization to avoid you simply because of your image,” there was no possible way she could sound any more pretentious.
Karl rolls his eyes, giving a half hearted chuckle as she continues to try and tell him why he wouldn’t be a good fit before even properly conducting the interview, “Can’t say I didn’t try right?” He says rather loudly as he stands up from his seat across from her.
“You don’t even have a proper high school diploma and-“
“I get it, you don’t want me here. It’s fine, whatever. I could already tell I was wasting my time anyways.” Karl is already headed for the door but stops before he exits, “Just be sure to tell her I at least showed up.” He adds bitterly, not even having to say her name to know it’ll make its way back to her how much of a failure and an embarrassment he is. If she wasn’t watching him through the camera’s as it all happened.
Karl doesn’t care. He’s done trying to fix a life that’s determined to be shit. No matter what he does it always seems to kick him in the gut and leave him in the dirt. He wasn’t even surprised to find out he had been rejected before even being considered.
He’s rather dramatic about how he exits the building, loosening his tie and dropping the put together facade he’d arrived with.
It seems like a cruel joke when he gets down to the parking garage, finding his beat up lemon easily among the fancy sports cars and electric hybrids, only for his car to not want to start. Of course he’d be trapped here.
But Karl is nothing if not stubborn to a fault and just about ruins his only suit getting out to solve the problem with the engine. Machines are the only thing he’s ever been gifted in. Sometimes instead of sucking cock when he needs narcotics he’ll repair a transmission or two, or be a regular adult and pick up extra shifts at the dinky garage within walking distance of his trailer.
Karl finds the problem easily, a quick fix luckily, his only luck today, and sure enough the engine turns over as it should. Of course it would, he knows what he’s doing.
Now…
He needs a fix.
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