Poor, Broke and Off The Radar

Chapter 1: Livin' Life Without Luxury


LOS SANTOS, a shining beacon of starry-eyed opportunity, has always been a haven where alphas could profit off the labors of human suffering, where oftentimes, such individuals could get away with anything. This image can be reflected in the number of Pisswasser bottles and used condoms scattered across town, the sheer number of streetwalkers (or wannabe starlets) patrolling the glimmering wrapper-covered streets of Vinewood, overlooking the expensive mansions and apartments of Rockford Hills, and the endless amount of crime that, strangely enough, seemed to be perpetrated against big businesses and startups alike.

Those who fit the bill of criminals who made the big time are often seen sporting expensive apparel and driving high-end vehicles and aircraft, flaunting their gold-plated possessions to the city, much to the amazement of the general populace.

This indeed proves that the money shows, regardless of the illicit or cosmic methods used in acquiring said currency.

This however, was not the case for Vix (better known by her handle, coolioboolio69, which, tinted in an odd blue color, always appeared on her left), one of South San Andreas's worst yet veteran criminals. Fresh out of the fog-filled bays of San Fierro and coming face-to-face with Lamar, Vix came into town seeking opportunity and riches, only to find out the stakes were far too high to even get a taste of the big life, and that the people, oh the people, were beyond reprehensible and had an extremely odd idea of how "mutual benefit" works.

Sitting inside her old jade-colored Rhapsody with a marijuana cigarette in one hand and the steering wheel on the other, she watched as three individuals clad in business suits slinging gigantic bags of green rush towards a heavily armored Kuruma outside a Fleeca branch, as the sound of the bank alarm blared loudly, scaring away the seagulls and pensioners. Imagining the smiles on their faces, Vix continued to eye on the vehicle, slowly accelerating at the same rate as the vehicle began to make its getaway. Hearing sirens in the distance, the Kuruma began to pick up in speed as red-and-blues raced past her. Performing drive-by shootings against the police, the Kuruma's movements slowly became more erratic as the Rhapsody followed its trail, eventually culminating in a high-speed chase on the freeway. The heat surrounding the getaway vehicle became much more intense, as gunmen frantically fired back against the cops, crashing through smaller vehicles and roadblocks.

Narrowly avoiding spike strips laid across the freeway, Vix continued to trail the Kuruma in its pursuit as more cruisers continued to crash and explode in the road to hell. Together with the relentless forwardness of time, the Kuruma made an exit towards Little Seoul, as gunfire subsided gradually.

Home Free! One might think. These men could finally reap their rewards, with the bank robbers thinking of what they might want to do with their share.

A new car! A new apartment! A yacht! Hire an army of hookers! The band of robbers thought.

Their success, well at least for two of the men of course, was short-lived. As the vehicle finally made a stop in an alleyway, with the robbers finally taking off their ski masks. The three men rushed into three separate vehicles, with only one man bringing the entire take to the back of a Securicar.

Needless to say, both vehicles except for the van blew up in the distance, turning into flaming wrecks of their former selves as bills rushed out of the back doors of the Securicar, laughter fading away as the van drove off into the sunset.

"Fucking idiots." Grinned Vix, taking a puff of the blunt and throwing it out of the window before driving off to another part of town.

It was just another day in Los Santos for her.

Driving back to her home, an old 70s-style house in Mirror Park which never seemed to feel the effects of gentrification, she parked her Rhapsody in her driveway as she tucked her Glock inside the back of her pants. Pushing through the rusty creaks and ceiling-covered drapes untouched since the last days of Vietnam, she sat in the beanie-covered corner of her living room and turned on her television, which showed yet another rerun of the Republican Space Rangers. Loading up her bong, she lit up the end of it and let it take control of her, laughing at the politically-motivated yet relatable content of the cartoon in front of her.

The laughs subsided in about 20-30 minutes after the light-up, most likely due to the low potency of the weed, and Vix was back to her old, cynical and glum self. Scrolling through the contacts, she came across a picture of J, one of the only few people she could trust in this town. A scruffy blonde in his mid-20s with his signature beard and smile, J was one of those men who always seemed to carry out crimes rather successfully with Vix as a duo, despite most of them being small-time heists.

Vix gave him a call, receiving a rather enthusiastic response from the other end of the line.

"Viiiiiiiiiixen babayyyyyy! What's up, girl?"

"Enough with the theatrics, J." Smiled Vix. "Got anything on tomorrow?"

"Lemme guess, you're getting high again and watching America's Next Top Hooker?" Asked J inquisitively.

"Very funny, J. I could see you getting an audition in one of those episodes." Replied Vix sarcastically. "My question still stands. I'm dirt poor and I've been working with Simeon for a while, he's a dirty piece of work who pays shit. Wanna go back to doing liquor store stick-ups like back in the day?"

"Might have some work that we do again, grandma." Laughed J. "Drop by my place in that rundown beater of yours tomorrow morning, and we'll talk… and cuddle."

"I'll see you tomorrow, and as for that last bit, sweet fucking dreams." Said Vix before hanging up. That was tomorrow's plan for her, a big change from doing repossessions for Simeon.

It was already 8pm, and while Vix was tempted to go to the nearby Up-N-Atom to grab a bite, the haze in her living room was making her sleepy. Changing out and heading off into the shower, she pondered about the state of her life as water poured down on her hair like several stones coming down on her at once. She began to have thoughts about her future and plans. She was poor, broke and off the radar, but she was comfortable with her life. Doing stick-ups with J again would probably elevate the intensity of her criminal career, but life would still be the same nonetheless.

…What if did take a step forward though? That thought rushed through the locks of her brown hair. Turning her attention to the piece on the table, as water continued to rush down, she observed the condition of her firearm. The Glock was slightly rusty, and in need of some cleaning.

Maybe it was time for it to be used more extensively again.