Chapter 1
It all started with a boring life. Nothing interesting ever happening in his life. Day by day, the same routine, with the same thing happening as if he were surrounded by robots. Throughout his high school life, he had rumours of a city called Los Santos just a few states away. He had heard of the crimes committed there on a daily basis. The drug dealing, the mass murder, the heists, everything. Almost instantly, he dreamed of a life there, away from the dull, boring, routine he lived. So on his 18th birthday, he left home.
15 years later
Geoff had worked his way up to the top. His skills as a tactician used by a variety of gangs, his use of a gun appreciated by many, and his heists admired by all. But as expected, he immediately became tired of such a boring life. Nothing ever lived up to his expectations and the gangs would always turn against each other. Honestly, he wondered where their humanity went, though he couldn't blame them with a life of crime. The only thing that had amused him within the 10 years of being in Los Santos was the fact that even if he died, he would come back to life with nothing but scars to prove that he had died. Nonetheless, it was never enough to satisfy him and his growing want to make himself known more than he already was. Soon enough, he decided to make his own crew with the information he had gathered while running with many gangs. He turned toward the exit of the roof, not bothering to finish watching the little game that played on the ground below, determined to make himself bigger than he already was.
After weeks of searching, he came up empty-handed. Tiredly, Geoff sighed and shook his head. It's been nearly two months and he couldn't even find the ones that had been talked about within the gangs he had mingled with. As he entered a convenience store to grab some cheap whiskey, he heard gunshots ring outside. But living in Los Santos made a man desensitized to such noises since it happened on a daily basis. A sigh passed his lips as he walked over to the aisles where the alcohol was usually kept. He grabbed the bourbon from the rack and headed to the cashier to pay for his alcohol. His path to the register was stopped by a red haired male with a machine gun pointed right at the cashier. In silence, he watched as the scene unfolded before him, because why the fuck not?
"Give me all that's in the register! And you better hurry or I'll shoot your head off!" The male shouted, nodding his head toward the register. The cashier nodded in a panicked state, taking out a bag and starting to put all the money in as quickly as he could. It only took a couple minutes for all the money to be emptied out before being thrown on the counter for the redhead to take and eventually shooting the cashier. Geoff whistled, muttering a "Damn, that's brutal," without thinking. The robber flinched and turned around, the machine gun pointed at him now. The mustached man sighed and shook his head, knowing he had made a fatal mistake and raising his hands up into the air, bourbon still in hand.
"Hey now, no need to be pointing that dangerous thing at me, dude. What's your problem?"
The other only narrowed his eyes and sized him up, keeping the gun at him. "Where the hell did you come from?"
"Through the front doors, you fucking idiot. Where else would I come from? My mom's vagina? Cause you aren't half wrong," Geoff replied, "But thanks to you, I won't have to buy this shitty thing people call alcohol." He opened the bottle and took a swig from it, not paying any mind to the gun pointed at him. The redhead only watched in silence as the mustached man took the longest swig of the alcohol. In this kind of situation, any normal person would've been running out of the store, screaming for their lives, but the man in front of him just took a damn swig of the damn thing without even minding the gun pointed at him. It didn't even take long for the redhead to know that the other was associated with crime just like he was.
"Who the fuck are you? If you weren't in the world of crime like me, you would be screaming and running out of this store," the redhead said cautiously. Geoff glanced over at the robber before taking the rim of the bottle away from his lips and grinning.
"Geoff. Geoff Ramsey. You are?"
Immediately, the redhead knew who the man before him was. He had heard rumours of his plans and how they would have succeeded if the gang he was working with didn't fuck things up in the middle of the heist. A lot of people had wanted to work with him, with his skills in planning a heist but he had disappeared for two weeks before reappearing and rumours spread quickly of the man's search for crew members. With a few moments of hesitation, the redhead responded. "Jack Pattillo."
"Nice to finally meet you, Beardo. Been looking for you for some time now," Geoff said with the swig of his bourbon. Jack stiffened slightly before narrowing his eyes.
"Have you now? I'm pretty sure I'm not that well known like you are around this area. Especially not with that old of an alias."
A glint flickered through the sleepy blue eyes that smiled down at him. "Well, sadly you're more well-known than you think you are," he pointed out the door, "Also, police are after you, buddy. Better get going." With that, Geoff watched Jack curse under his breath and run out the door to the car parked outside and speed away. With a shrug and a smile on his face, he left the store, whistling a tune as he headed for his apartment building.