PayDay - Undercover
A fan-fiction series by JebCC


Note to readers: Hello again! Hope you enjoy this little snippet. I should probably state my schedule, I work on my story whenever I'm not busy, usually at school. And I'll try to make it a habit to finish and upload on weekends or Fridays. A chapter a week might work. If you have any concerns or suggestions, please tell me! I am open to reviews.
As for the rating: Rated M for mature audiences; the series will have swearing, violence, bloodshed, and gruesome murders. Enjoy, you sick twisted bastards.


Chapter 1 - New Mind

"Ah. Bloody hell, it's been too long since I've been 'ere." Jim laughs in excitement as he enters the run-down laundromat. He passes by the "SOLD" sign and into the dusty room where many washing machines lay dead against the walls. Some with their glass smashed in, others completely disconnected from the wall, lying on the dirty tiled floor. The place hadn't been cleaned in months, the only time it'd be cleaned out was when the mice became too apparent, and even then, it didn't bother the owners. Jim walks past the long line of clothes hangers, clinging to a single curved bar.

Nicolas walks in behind Jim and follows him as he, the man in the prison jumpsuit, admires each little memorable characteristic of the building. He walks into the back area of the laundromat where the kitchen is located, as well as many lounge room chairs. Whilst it's only a small place, the majority of the room is crowded with cardboard boxes, each labelled with either a name or an item; "Chains", "Dallas", "Hoxton". Jim stops in front of the package labelled "Hoxton" and smirks as he picks it up, behind it is another three packages addressed to him that hadn't been touched since his time in jail. He holds the package up to his ear and shakes it lightly. "Heh, is this what I think it is?" Jim grins. He stops shaking it, lowering the package as he stares at the middle of the room. A statue of a woman stands proudly, made of the finest looking stone, and carved from the finest tools. "Lady Justice" stands proudly, one hand holding a set of Greek scales. Her other hand…

Jim is shocked as he walks towards her, picking up the sticky-note from her broken off arm. It reads; "Sorry about that. -Dallas." Jim groans in disappointment, staring at the ragged stone at the end of her arm, the other part of her arm no where in sight. "Fucking, Dallas."
"Don't worry, Jim. He's made it up to us by buying us all dinner. No doubt he'll buy you some too."
"Shit, I could really go for a pizza or something. Prison food is 'orrible'." Jim grumbles as he fumbles around his pocket. "Damn."
"It's alright. I got it." Nicolas pulls out a bundle of dollar bills, wrapped with a rubber band. He places it onto one of the pedestals of the Greek scales, held by Lady Justice. The scale tips slightly.

A loud roaring sound echoes and bounces from wall to wall, the floorboards next to the statue moving underneath the floor to reveal a secret passage underground. Thin steps lead down into the cold dark area, lit up by the many computer screens seated against the wall. Jim and Nicolas make their way down, Nicolas almost disappearing into the darkness because of his black skin, his black suit not helping either. Jim jokes; "Shit, Nic, I lost ya."
"Yeah, you're real funny, Hox." He calls him by his nickname. Click. The lights buzz to life, the many hallways leading out from the single basement room slowly slither into view as the lamps fizzle on. The place is messy of course, wires taped to the ceiling, the floor just cement, even a whole vent system open to view. But the residences of the laundromat knew to expect this, in fact, it's just what they wanted. It was home. Jim sits at the computer desk, looking at the many monitors on the wall, each showing the view of one of the many security cameras in the underground lair. "Hey… We got a new one?"

"Yeah, for the shooting range." Nic crosses his arms, waiting for Jim to finish his self-re-tour of the place. Jim shakes his head and leans back, bewildered by the fact that he was finally back home.
"This is nice. This is really fuckin' nice."
"...Hey, Jim. You gotta check this out." He smirks and pats him on his shoulder. Jim looks up at him.
"Hm?" He gets up and starts to follow Nicolas, to the end of the large open room where Nic stops and stands by the large safe door.
"Check this out." With a swipe of a keycard, the iron door slowly creaks open. Slowly, but loudly. Jim's eyes widen as he stares into the well-lit vault that was previously covered by the thick door, in the middle of the room is a table, practically showered in bundles of money, some spilt onto the floor. And at the back of the room, boxes worth of money that stands all the way to the ceiling of the room. "Holy shit. How much did you get whilst I was gone?"
"We were hooked up with a heist or two from Bain."
"Heist or two" He mumbles; "At least in the nick I didn't have Bain yapping in my ear like a little needy dog. 'Get the drill' my ass..."

Nicolas chuckles and continues to inform; "Yeah, we took down a bank, without the police arriving."
"Fuck me, you're jokin'."
"We also managed to grab a stack of gold from a shipping company. That's what really brought in the money."
Jim snickers and walks out of the room, Nicolas following, back upstairs, taking the bundle of money from Lady Justice's scales to close the secret door in the floor. "I have to go find Dallas." Jims walks over to the kitchen, typing in a few numbers into the phone, sitting on the bench.
"He might be busy, but you can try." Nic shrugs. Jim holds the speaker of the phone up to his ears and waits, opening the fridge door whilst he waits for Dallas to pick up.

"...Hey!"
"Well look who it is. Calling me for the first time in months."
"No thanks to you. Is Shit-for-Brains around?" Jim asks, Nic looking at him puzzled.
"Yeah, sure. Here." Ruffling is heard through the speaker. Houston answers; "Hello?"
"Hey you fucking twat. Put Dallas back on."
"Pssht." Houston huffs and passes the phone back to Dallas.
"What do you need, Jim?" Dallas asks.
"You owe me some dinner."
"I do. Tomorrow night, after the interview?" Dallas uses 'interview' as a code word for heist, interviews usually taking the same length of time as a heist as well.
"If there isn't any bloodshed."
"Hopefully…" Dallas groans a little, more shuffling heard. "I'll see you tomorrow. Remember, 10:48 sharp, your house." Once again, another code word, your house referring to the safehouse that Nic and Jim stands in at the present moment.

"Sounds great." Jim suddenly yells into the phone. "See you tomorrow, fucktard!"
"Alright, easy Jim. See ya tomorrow."
Jim hangs up. Nicolas rolls his eyes. "When are you going to get off Houston's back?"
"When I'm dead and he has a new mask."
"Yes, I know he has yours, but we didn't have a spare for him."
"Whatever. I'm heading off now. Thanks for the ride, I'll get my friend to pick me up from here. Been meaning to pay him back for his help. Finally can."
"You're welcome, man." Nicolas nods and walks out of the laundromat, leaving Jim in the kitchen. Silence. He looks over to the boxes labelled "Hoxton", smiling a little as he approaches them.