PayDay - Undercover
A fan-fiction series by JebCC
Note to readers: Hello my readers! Just a reminder, if you like what I write and you enjoy the story, this IS an ongoing regularly updated fan-fiction. So if you would like to read more, follow this story! You won't miss a chapter, or completely forget about the story! I do that sometimes. Read something and completely forget about it the next day. Oops. Well have fun with this one! And don't worry, the action is coming veeeery soon. Enjoy!
Chapter 2 - Unplanned Recovery
"You're just going to have to wait, Hox."
"Wait my ass. I've been rotting in prison for damn months."
"I'm sorry but we just can't do this heist with less than three people. If you have a problem, talk to the others."
"Fuckin' shit." Jim swears as he bangs his fist onto the bench, the mirror in front of him shaking a little, Jim's half scarred face in the glass pane rattling as a result."Bain, yapping-dog piece of repetitive shitbag."
Nathan shakes his head. "Jim... "
"Right. Time to talk to Wolf."
"Be easy on him. Not his fault." Nathan scowls, Jim walking out of the kitchen and down into the secret basement of the safe-house. "Wolf, fucking dammit." On the side of the room are steel bed frames lining the concrete walls, some with mattresses, some not. Wolf lies on his side on one of the thicker bare mattresses with his back turned to Jim, facing the wall. He mumbles idly a few words in Swedish to himself, as if it comforted him.
"Wolf." Jim stops and stands next to his bed. Wolf turns his head to the side, facing the ceiling, but his eyes concentrated on Jim.
"Ja?" He answers quietly. Jim takes a deep breath, ready to say something, but he doesn't. He sighs the air out and sits at the end of the bed, making sure to not accidentally sit on Wolf's legs. The extra weight causing both men to slightly sink more into the mattress.
"How bad is the injury?" Jim asks softly. As soft as he can, with his naturally threatening British voice.
"Oh. Well… It's a little hard to move…" Wolf speaks in his Swedish accent, scratching his forehead. The gang has always called Wolf by simply his nickname, mainly because Wolf never told anybody his real name anyway. Despite being in such a dark dense corner of the room, Wolf seems quite comfortable, as if this were his normal nap spot in the safehouse.
"Wolf. Houston is out on a trip, and we only have you to help do the heist."
"Oh. No no no... I-"
"All you gotta do is stay in the same area as me. The others can do all the running around."
"Jim!" Nathan sternly growls, walking down the stairs and into the basement, over to the two men as Wolf randomly starts humming to himself. "I refuse to have Wolf on this heist. He won't only be disadvantaged himself, but he's going to be a risk to all of us. If we get caught, Wolf won't be able to save us." Nathan lectures.
"He'll be paired up with me. It'll be fine."
"No, Jim. It won't be." Nathan groans, both him and Jim looking towards Wolf at the same time unintentionally. Wolf relaxes, with his hands underneath his mostly bald head. Wolf stops humming to himself and stares at them awkwardly, back and forth between the two.
"...What?" Wolf tilts his head in confusion.
Jim shakes his gaze away. "...What if I can get somebody to help?"
"Who?" Nathan crosses his arms, entertained to see what person Jim will manage to pull out of his hat.
"...What about the new guy?" Jim suggests as Wolf proceeds to hum once again.
"Mr. Zubović? He doesn't come in until at least two days later."
"I can force him to come earlier. I'll just pick him up and we can start the heist tomorrow at the latest!" Jim stands up, excited by his new plan.
"Jim. Why are you so fucking stubborn?"
"Hey! You'd be this fuckin' angry too if someone ratted YOU out. Piece of sheh-ehh..." He sneezes.
"Bless you!" Wolf stops his mumbling and pardons. He then continues again, Wolf seeming to occupy himself with tunes and melodies whenever he's not speaking.
"Welcome back to the dust. You'll get used to it." Nathan snickers.
"Yeah, yeah. Look, I'll get the guy, give him a mask, and we can go tomorrow. The more we wait, the harder it'll be for us." Jim persuades.
"...Alright. Christ. Go pick him up. Wolf, rest." Nathan orders as he walks back up the stairs. Once Nathan leaves, Jim can't help but give Wolf a wide wicked grin. "About mother fuckin' time."
"Well done!" Wolf congratulates. Jim's smile grows larger, his body shaking to the point where he readies his arm for an excitable punch. He forgets Wolf is lying quite close to him under the thick white blanket. Wolf goes quiet and stares up at his fist ready to swing in the air. Wolf panics, swearing repeatedly in Swedish; "Nononono-!" He groans as Jim hits him in the crotch accidentally. "Ughhh..."
"Fuck me. I didn't know your stomach was there. … That was your stomach right?"
"Fuck off." Wolf curls over and cuddles himself. Jim laughs and apologizes before walking back upstairs.
"Oi, Dallas." Jim sits lazily down onto the couch.
"Hm?" Nathan looks up from his work on the kitchen bench.
"Throw me the phone?"
Nathan looks to the landline phone, picks it up and does an underarm throw towards Jim. He reaches for it, the plastic nipping his fingertips before accidentally being bumped further into the air, hitting the wall behind Jim. It makes a large "fwack" sound as it hits before falling onto the soft safety of the couch. "Skit!"" Jim and Dallas hear Wolf's muffled swear from the basement.
"Ahck, Fuck it." Jim swears at his failure to catch, picking up the handheld device before dialing a hard to remember number that he hesitates to input.
"Jim, if you drop it again, you're paying for it if it ends up smashing."
"Yeah, yeah. Won't be hard. My PayDay is tomorrow. Haha!" He laughs in excitement.
"It won't be if we fail."
"Don't worry. This new guy is a fuckin' oiled door."
"You know his history I'm guessing?"
"Who doesn't. A hitman."
"You realise that his way into the Payday gang was that he betrayed his own ally?" Nathan pulls out a cigarette from the pocket inside of his brown jacket.
"I doubt he'll do that again."
"Let's just keep an eye on him."
"God-Fuck, Dallas. You're as paranoid as a possum stuck in the track of migrating birds."
"Yeah, okay. I get it." He lights the cigarette in his mouth and proceeds to waft a small cloud of smoke from his lips every now and then.
The two don't talk to each other for a small while, they barely even look at each other. Whilst the two men have their obvious spats at each other, they do have something in common. Getting the work done. Hoxton is stubborn, Dallas is a perfectionist. Together, they always manage to motivate the team into getting the sweet, tasty prize of victory.
Jim stares out at the window, smiling a little, with his arm rested on top of the chair next to him. "I hope you guys are ready." He looks at the other men in the van: Nathan, Nicolas and the new member of the gang, Mr. Zubović. The man is slightly taller than the rest of the men, wearing a suit, like the others. "Sometimes it's good to not be fully prepared." Zubović addresses, Nathan looking over to him with a strange look of bewilderment. Zubović continues; "Sometimes it's just good to get the adrenaline going. Be unprepared, the fear of being caught."
"Alright, Infiltrator." Nathan starts; "I know you like to do things differently, but here, we stick to plans."
Jim seems to easily notice the sudden conflict between the two, Nicolas too busy putting on his heavy body armour to toil with the commotion around him.
Nathan adds. "Talking about plans, I've devised it all up. Jim and Zubović will be one pair. Me and Nicolas will be the other." All four men begin to properly suit up, relatively in the same span of time the four put on their specially custom designed masks, bulletproof and strapped on tight. "Load your weapons. Make sure you have everything you need." Dallas commands. The gang has always looked up to Dallas as a leader, even though he was never officially a leader. The PayDay gang had no leader. Every individual depended on each other and helped each other to get the job done, to get their payday. "Hoxton and Dragan, get acquainted, you'll both be trying to hack into the system for those files. We need to figure out who ratted Hoxton out, and this FBI agency is the best place for it. Me and Chains will do most of the running around. Whatever you two need we'll get. Got it?" Dallas begins to refer to the gang by their nicknames as soon as the masks are put on.
"Got it." Chains nods, the four loading up their array of weaponry, assault rifles, sniper rifles. They pack grenades and ammo bags, even first aid kits in case things go awry.
A few bangs from the front of the van is heard. "Alright. That's the signal, let's move!" Dallas opens the van side door, the gang hustles out of the white vehicle and into the public road, in front of the FBI agency. Screams are heard, soon overpowered by the noisy van that quickly drives away to safety.
