James Locke looked out his window, a drink in one hand and his black tie in the other. For almost two years he had been known as Fed, due to his clothing and his father's profession. But with the events that transpired the last few weeks, with what had happened at the Fleeca Bank and the enormaity of what it meant, it was time for a change. He had undergone this once before since coming to Los Santos. Despite his knowledge and drive, his criminal life had been very very small. Taking down drug deals and 'repoing' cars were what had kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach and, when he had made a few more influential friends, his lifestlye had changed. He had become Fed then, wearing suits in homage and mockery to the very person who had made him this way, and now, it had happened again. He had untucked his shirt, loosened the top buttons and removed his tie. He spun the glass somewhat to make the amber liquid swirl and downed the drink in one gulp, almost numb to the burning in his throat as he regarded the tie once more. "Parting is such sweets sorrow..." he said whimsically before letting the garmet fall into the wastebin. He looked back at the window, able to see his translucent self in the glass and smirked at what he saw. Fed was dead, he realized, and Shot Caller was looking back at him.
His thoughts were interupted by a knock at his door. He crossed his apartment, replacing his glass on the table, next to his bottle of Glengoolie Black which, somehow, never seemed to be any emptier until he desperatley needed to just get blind druk, and grabbed a yellow padded envelope. He knew who was at the door... it was Yahtzee. Yahtzee's real name was Christopher White but if you called him that he'd kill you. Maybe not literally but you'd find every secret and asset you hide electronically, in any form, gone the next day. Yahtzee was, possibly, the best hacker in the world and easily the best in Los Santos. Shot Caller only worked with the best and when he needed information, when his own brand of asking failed, he called in Yahtzee, which is why the man was knocking on his door, and why Shot Caller was holding an envelope with $100,000 in it.
Though wealthy, $100,000 was not an amount that Shot Caller enjoyed throwing around, but what Yahtzee had would be worth it... he sincerely hoped. Reaching his door he peeked through the eyehole in his door and saw his friend there. He didn't seem to have any heat with him but Shot Caller's hand still went to the gold plated pistol he had tucked in the back of his was in a holster but a few things had remained from his 'thug' days. He opened the door and the pair stared at each other.
"Fed." Yahtzee said in a curt greeting.
"Shot Caller." Locke corrected. "It's Shot Caller now."
Yahtzee blinked once and nodded. "Shot Caller." he said. Shot Caller nodded and took a step back and Yahtzee entered and the duo went into Shot Caller's media/ heist room. The room had been empty when Locke had moved in and he had used it for storage, before he got his boxcar, and then as a media room until Lester had decided to trust him with large scale robberies. Now it had a large map of LS, a white board and trunks for keeping heist materials in. Costumes, masks, holdalls, special weapons and other items including headsets, drills and the like. Yahtzee came in and set a laptop up to a projector and aimed it at the white board. "Okay," the hacker began, clicking folders open on the desktop. "You said you wanted armor van routes through the city."
"They're random." Shot Caller explained. "Even if you see one, a robbery is chaotic, hasty... not the kind of job you can do safely. I need the inside track, and a big take."
Yahtzee opened, on the screen, a map of LS with about nine different streams of different colored lines all over it. "These." he said. "Are the planned routes of a little over half a dozen armored vans. These three," he explained, leaving only the yellow, blue and green lines. "Are the most valuable, picking up from auto dealers and Ammu-Nations. By my predictions, they will have between five hundred thousand and 1.2 million in them." he looked at his compatriot. "That work for you, Shot Caller?" he asked, smiling at this employer's new name. Shot Caller nodded.
"Times?" he asked pointing at the green line. "For this one specifically."
"Makes its last stop..." Yahtzee said, tapping a few more keys. "At 7:00 PM in two days before it hits the Great Ocean highway, on its way to Paleto Bay Bank." Shot Caller nodded.
"Good, that's the one." He walked over to the small table and picked up the envelope full of cash and pressed it to Yahtzee's chest. "Just don't go too crazy with the spending." he said in a slightly warning tone.
Yahtzee took the envelope, felt the weiht and gave Shot Caller an eyebrow. "And that's because...?"
"This job." Shot Caller explained, indicating the map. "Is so I can eat out a few nights, and to finance another. A much much bigger one, one that I have a part for you in, and one that might take a big bankroll, so make sure you don't use it all on strippers and blackjack, alright?"
Yahtzee smiled a little. "More than a hundred grand?" he asked.
"If everything goes according to plan on it, I'm looking at eight figures for everyone involved." Shot Caller said with that trade mark smirk of his. "Keep an eye on your phone, alright?"
"You know it buddy." Yahtzee looked like he was going to say something else, but Shot Caller had his back turned and was staring, intently at the board. Yahtzee knew that look, a bomb could go off and Shot Caller wouldn't even flinch. He shook his head a little and left.
"Gruppe Security..." Shot Caller mused to himself. "What are we going to do about you."