"Ryan"
The voice was soft-spoken, but just the sound of it alone was enough to draw him deep into thoughts and fond-ish memories of his past. His mind drifted in between the conscious and unconscious realm until his thoughts completely consumed him. A white picket fence house with a large oak tree standing prominently abut the house, it was a common setting almost like the 'American Dream' sort of place. Rows and rows of flowers decorated the lawn and the sidewalk, and some pots sat behind shimmering windows. Ryan could almost hear his father playfully arguing with his mother about her fetish for flowers- any kind. He had once spotted her fondly caring for a wildflower, a weed, that caused a drought to all her other precious flowers. Ryan had never seen her flowers live long, it seemed that once a week she was replanting new ones, she had cursed him maliciously and blamed him for it all but as always he had remained as stoic as he was today.
It was fond enough for him, that was probably one of the better memories, he could recall hearing his parents talk to the pastor about him before when he had been forced to endure yet another hour or so of church. It had become a daily routine, he would get out of school- a christian boarding school- and head down to the church to take more classes and do even more bible studies. It had made him sick. His mother and father had sat in the Priests office, whispering about his silence, how apparently he had never cried as a baby and still to this day refuses to shed a tear. Ryan took pride in that, and always expected his parents to shower him with praise because of that, but they were afraid of him, and he knew that.
His days, as far as normal standards go, never followed a correct schedule. His mother tried to poison him on numerous occasions, and he always thought it was a game for him to try and figure out which plates had poison and which didn't, so he would giggle delightfully while pointing out the correct one. His father had once loaded a toy gun with actual bullets and tried to shoot him with it, but Ryan had watched him load the gun the night before and swapped his own with his fathers, thus ending his fathers chances of putting a bullet into his head. That was daily life for him though, and that was love. His fondest memory by far was the struggle he and his father had when his father had attempted to drown him in a tub, he had thoroughly enjoyed that. He'd laughed the entire time as his father spit venomous things back at him, it had all stopped when his mother came in crying about how she couldn't allow him to go through with it, his family was good at playing pretend.
But Ryan always knew internally that he was different from other kids, not just his upbringing, but his hobbies and the things he enjoyed as well. It was at sixteen that he finally snapped. He had been through many grueling years, and after his father killed himself, Ryan took to the same thing. Only he never attempted to hurt himself, only others. He had become such a burden at school that he had actually been kicked out of multiple ones, the only place he was still welcomed into was the church. The Priest had taken a fondness to Ryan, only it was the kind of fondness Ryan would rather him to have never taken. Over the years the Pastor had done enough to be considered a sexual predator, but Ryan thought it was always a game, no matter how uncomfortable he would get he would still tell himself that the Priest was playing with him. He had grown incredibly into his teenage body, so much so that he attracted the attentions of many women and men.
It was when he finally began comprehending life and the morals between right and wrong that he broke, and it happened at the church. He was stuck studying the bible and it's meanings for what felt like the millionth time when the Pastor leaned over behind him, his breath tickling the nape of his neck and his ear. He remembered the cool shiver that had trickled down his spine like an ice cube being dropped down his shirt. He could even recall how tense he had gotten, how he'd grit his teeth and clenched his fingers, and then suddenly he broke. It was like all those years of abuse and the Pastor had finally gotten to him. "I have a new installment of the testimony; I just have to transfer it to you." He said. "Wanna play again, James? For old times sake?" Ryan had no answers for that, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. It didn't take him long to whirl on the eighty-five year old man, and he had him pinned to the floor in seconds, his pencil going through one eye before he pulled it out to again repeat the action. He hadn't stopped stabbing the man until the pencil finally snapped under the pressure of his grip, and then he had just sat there on the ground screaming over and over again.
When he returned home, it was nightfall. He hadn't bothered to smear away the blood, something about it made him feel better and more comfortable in his skins. His mother was there, and as usual she greeted him with a gun clamped in her left hand, only tonight- it was aimed at him. "Ryan." She said, her voice quivering with a mixture of love and fear. How could a mother not love her own offspring? Ryan could only answer her with a laugh, after all these years she still held him at gun point.
His father had been smart, he had tried to kill him, and he would have succeeded. He always said that Ryan was the anti-Christ, a freak of nature, someone that should have never been birthed to begin with, but Ryan always thought it was a joke. It took him sixteen years to realize that not just one person thought he was truly that, he had never been relatively normal. He'd dissected multiple animals, and the first puppy they got he had baked it alive in the oven just to hear it scream. There was also that time he had pushed a little girl in the way of an oncoming school bus, or when he'd burnt down the school, made sure his mother would have a stillborn as a replacement by 'accidentally' pushing her down the stairs, or even when he had killed the neighborhood mailman just because he wouldn't hand over his wallet. He should have realized it sooner, that wasn't the way that normal children his age behaved, and he was the farthest thing from normal.
"I was talking to my spoon the previous night." He had replied, walking around the light that surrounded his mother as if he were a demon unable to touch it's angelic beauty. "And it all suddenly became clear. I'm not normal."
She had shook with fear, and nearly dropped the gun as well, but when she opened her mouth to speak her voice was firm and trenchant- completely contradictory to her stance. "You were an accident, one your father and I could have loved. But you were never like us, or anyone for that matter, you were wrong, Ryan. And you know that deep in your black and withered heart, you can't be allowed to live."
Ryan had laughed, it was usual that he laugh instead of speak. "Pull the trigger." He had demanded, but his mother only shook and sobbed brokenly, tears streaming down her face. "PULL THE TRIGGER!" And then he attacked. The night had been a long one, full of screams and tears and bloodshed, but in the end after her eight hours of horrific torture, his mother had passed on. The rest of that evening and into the morning after had been spent with Ryan cleaning up his mess, properly burying his mother, and packing his things to leave. There was only one place in the world where a 'freak' like him could live safely until his descent into Hell; Los Santos.
"RYAN!"
His eyes snapped up, looking to the blank drawing board ahead of himself. Once again he had fallen prey to reminiscence. A sigh spilled out of his lips as he leaned forward, scrubbing his hands against his eyes. The mid-morning light struck his pupils harshly, giving him a minor and few second long headache. He cursed the day for being so beautifully bright, he had never truly accustomed to the light. Glancing over, he notes his 'boss'- Thane Knight- was standing mere inches away from where he was perched. "You haven't been listening, again, have you?!"
His tone was far from calm, Ryan liked that shade on him, it reminded him of his father when he would get upset with Ryan for waking up right before another murder attempt. Thane was one of the largest crime bosses in all of Europe, he had been born in London and was quick to wipe all the other names off the map in favor of his own, he had the same idea to do that in this country as well. Ryan was his strong-arm, his trump card at times too, the only one he depended so heavily on to get the job done properly. It wasn't like it was difficult to raise yourself up on the grid, and Ryan had already done a dandy job of getting himself up there, he thought of himself as a guide through a jungle of madness, and he was leading Thane right down the river to the temple. A smirk broke out across his face as he laughed, again, instead of answering. Thane's face spaced out for a second before he whipped his gun out and slammed it across Ryan's smug face, drawing blood not for the first time.
The hit stung, and Ryan swiped away at the blood with his tongue, the metallic taste was familiar and somewhat appealing to him. "Yes, Thane?" His head cocked to the side, bangs slipping before his stunningly blue and green eyes. He was attractive by all standards, but he knew that Thane seemed to have a distaste for pretty things- despite himself as well being classified as 'pretty'. "LISTEN TO ME."
Nodding energetically he leans forward a little in his seat. "I'm all ears for you, baby." He purred, eyes lidding slightly at the look of disgust that flew across Thane's attractive features. He was older than Ryan by a few years, only 26, but his dark hair and just as dark eyes made him look younger almost. It was the sternness in his voice that made him resemble Ryan's father more. "The Fake AH Crew. They've been rising at rates faster than we could even imagine, their crew is equipped with it all, and they've become a nuisance, a thorn in my side if you may have it. We're doing terribly, and you have been more worried over if your spoon lover will recover from her sickness."
Ryan clicked his tongue a little bit before returning his eyes to the drawing board before him. The room was basically austere, they never had a sanctioned spot to meet each other, they simply went wherever they wanted whenever they wanted. At that moment they were somewhere far away from the city of Los Santos, instead they were out in the deserted area, dealing with a blazing sun and scalding heat within a broken down warehouse with zero air conditioning. The bulletin board had pictures of men up, many men, but a group was circled multiple times in varying colors of sharpie; Geoffrey, Gavin, Jack, Michael, and Ray. Also known as 'The Fake AH Crew'. Ryan didn't have a problem with them, all of their missions seemed to consist in the city, that gave Ryan and Thane the rest of the world if they so decreed, but apparently they had Thane up in arms.
Standing from his seat, he moves closer to examine the board more. He was taller than the board itself was, standing over 6ft while the object itself was only about 5ft, so he had to lean down a little to look further at it. "Let's give them a welcome party, something kind to introduce them into the world of bad boys and girls. I know all about these people, everything down to the nightmares that haunt them at night, if you want me to break them then consider it done. But that will only impede them momentarily, if you want me to stop them completely on the other hand...-" Straightening his back, he turns with a sinister smirk painted across his handsome face. "-That will take mastery and extra time. It's all up to you boss. Killing them would be too easy, I think it would be better if we took our time to drive them out of the ring, it would give good props to us."
Thane shook his head, ebony hair falling before gray eyes. "No, I don't want to waste time Ryan." A frown worked it's way against Ryan's face, he never took into thought any suggestions of his. Thane was very particular, if he wanted someone dead by a bullet shot then Ryan was only granted one bullet. If someone had to be scalped, then he'd only get a scalping knife and nothing else, he was never permitted to give into his creativity lest he occasion Thane's wrath. He learned after his first step out of line to never do it again, Thane looked weak- compared to Ryan he looked like a tall noodle. Whereas Ryan had a bountiful amount of muscle that he was always eager to show off, Thane was simply tall and lithe- not anorexic, just lacking in the muscle mass that Ryan had produced. But he knew every point on a person's body, and he could take someone down without messing up a hair on top of his head. He was a skilled marksman at that as well, if he had a gun in his hands he could end anyone before they even had the chance to draw a breath for a scream.
When he was dealing with Ryan, instead of the others, he would castigate him. The punishments would be more severe, it was like Ryan were a trained wolf that always had the power and strength to take down their 'master' but was always too afraid of the repercussions to try. "I want you to simply kill them. Not now, let's allow them their fun. But soon Ryan, this city is only-"
"Big enough for one crew." Ryan intervened, picking at his nails with the tip of his knife. "Yeah you've said that a lot now." Lazily he slid his attention back to Thane, who- much to his surprise- was not fuming at this point. "You can handle this Ryan, and if you succeed, I'll reward you. Greatly."
Ryan paused a moment, his breath catching in his throat, he knew that Thane wasn't offering up sex and even if he was Ryan would turn that down. There was something more in his voice, something that made his heart pound faster in his chest. He would be granted his creativity again, he would be allowed to continue to spread his mark on the city the way he had been for so long now and had been denied. He cleared his throat, watching the smile tug up Thane's lips as he turned to leave. Ryan didn't know why he stayed by Thane so much, when they had first met Ryan had been that mass-murderer that people ran away from on the streets. The best Mercenary money could hire, and the worst nightmare to ever be dreamt up, his kill count was larger than entire crews- which he had also been able to successfully infiltrate or simply waltz in and tear down more than a handful of crews. He was known as 'The Mad King', 'Vagabond', 'Shadow Assassin', 'Black Skull', 'Mr. Mad Mercenary' and many more, nobody knew what he looked like both under the make-up and under the mask, so he was never pinpointed in public.
Thane had caught up to him after one of his sprees, and had demanded that Ryan remove his mask. Nobody had never not been afraid of him until then, and then when Thane had threatened his life, he'd been hooked. He pressed himself onto Thane at first, trying to get him to engage in any kind of scandalous behavior he would have been permitted to, and when denied- several times- he instead wanted to learn more about this dark silhouette in the moonlights illumination. Thane explained himself then offered Ryan a position on his team. Ryan knew that it was a two choice type of system; that or death, but he also knew that he wanted to work beneath Thane, so he accepted.
Over the years of knowing Thane, he had grown accustomed to his behaviors and to the way he acted, it reminded him more and more of the father he was never truly given, it made him think of his childhood and how drastically different it would have been if both his parents had shared in the interests that Ryan delved himself into. Thane was no longer someone he needed to protect, since the first few days he had seen him as a kicked puppy with a gun, but instead he was someone who deserved to be in a place of charge.
Ryan ducked his head out the window, watching as Thane's car sped out into the distance. Another amused smirk spread along his face, as he shook his head a little bit. "That was my ride."
The city was bustling with activity again, it usually was, but Ryan was more interested in first finding his targets base of operations. He would soon be forced to take charge over the situation and kill them all, but that was something that could be worked out after extensive observations. He was thankful for having his identity somewhat concealed, he couldn't imagine what kind of trouble it would be to wander aimlessly around the city when everyone knows his name. It was like 'The Fake AH Crew', despite their rising popularity, they all still relatively had their identities intact, it kept them at an advantage over the police and unsuspecting victims. The only ones that could pin the identity down perfectly know was 'The Devils Subjects', his own crew.
He ran his fingers over his head, his hair was as usual pulled up in a ponytail. It had been awhile since he had cut it all, but he couldn't be bothered with it now or most likely any time in the future. It was maintained enough, washed when blood stained it, and combed after battles. It was silken and lovely, and Ryan liked that it was the only thing soft on him. His gaze swept across the way, then he glanced back the other way. It was as if the members of 'The Fake AH Crew' all knew that he was looking for them. A sound of irritation passed through his lips as he leaned his back against a nearby wall. It was too hot outside for him to be wearing his leather jacket, but he couldn't think of taking it off, it was as much a part of him as his long hair was. But he would remind himself later to swap out his black jeans for his blue washed ones instead. Luckily, his shirt was white, on the flip side it was cotton and still had Ryan sweating up a storm beneath his clothing.
A voice sparked his attention, head swiveling around to catch sight of a male. He was in his mid-twenties, twenty-four at the youngest. Brown hair that shone a bronze or golden type of light in the sun's rays, and skin that looked kissed by the sun- or at least a sprayed on tan. He wore white jeans that clung to his shapely hips in the best of ways, black dress shoes and a purple top that- as well- clung to his small frame. From anyone else's point of view he looked like a spoiled brat that never learned how to share his finances, but to the trained eye he was Gavin Free, Hacker of the 'Fake AH Crew'. Ryan smirked a little before sliding in to make his move.
Gavin was talking to an elderly lady in a polite fashion, it was ironic seeing as he had probably stolen from her at some time or another. Thankfully for Ryan, the wind swept up a single piece of paper from one of the many boxes that Gavin was holding, that was his cue to move in. Swiping the sheet of paper off the ground, he examines it dismissively. It was a bunch of technical jargon on computers and the most of it was just studies on viruses or the type of coding a high tech security system would have, a.k.a nothing that Ryan could ever understand. Moving in, he puts on his most perfect smile, meeting Gavin's eyes immediately, it seemed that Gavin was drawn to him without him even having to speak up first. Ryan was thankful that this man seemed weak to pretty things. "Excuse me sir, but it seems to me that this paper must belong to you."
Gavin blanched, sweat dripping from his brow as he smiled a bit. "Mind just popping it back into the box for me? I have a lot in my hands at the moment, poppet." His accent was thick, and Ryan briefly contemplated how long he had been in the country for. Did he know anything about Thane? Slipping the paper back into the box, he smiles a friendly sort of smile. "May I help you? It's terrible for someone to have to carry so much, especially someone as pretty as yourself."
Gavin squeaked. It was a short and small noise that garnered a reaction of shock from Ryan. Clearly this man was never hit on before or he wasn't expecting to be hit on. But there was more to it, he almost seemed to be acting for Ryan. "I would actually like that very much, thank you." Ryan reached out, taking the box and huffing a little at its weight. The box was heavier than it looked, like a lead box filled with irons and different variations of metals. He smiled still, not wanting Gavin to see how utterly annoyed he was that he had to be doing this. Still, knowing how oblivious Gavin was and how innocent he actually was inside, he would allow Ryan to carry these boxes back all the way to his base.
They began walking at a steady pace, at least it was easy for Ryan, he had carried much heavier things in his lifetime. But Gavin had a sort of swagger in his step, as if at any moment it was a great possibility that he fall and possibly break a bone, all of that amused Ryan so. Despite the fact that Gavin was increasingly attractive, he still thought that seeing him get hurt would be by far the most amusing thing he had seen all day, and he watched a car run over a little girl that morning as well. A small smile etched its way across Gavin's features. "So, uh, what's your name?"
Ryan blanched a bit, just for show. He didn't need to give introductions to the Golden Boy, but he also didn't feel like holding anything back from him. "Ryan, my apologies Mr...?"
Gavin laughed a little, struggling to extend a hand out to Ryan, who was having no trouble at all slipping the box under one arm to take his tiny hand. It was shivering a little bit, and Ryan had anticipated that, it was expected for people to be more than only a little nervous in front of Ryan. He was not only insanely attractive, but as well insanely strong, he could take down just about anyone with no difficulty, and there was no doubt that Gavin was currently aware of that. "Free, Gavin Free. Have you been in this city awhile?"
Ryan forced a laugh, he was good at exuding emotions he wasn't actually feeling. Acting was important in his line of work, and on some nights he always contemplated if he could have just done anything else with the plethora of talents stored in his body to be something greater than what he was then, if he had just been born... Normal. "I should be asking you that question, Gavin." He jested, turning sharply to place himself closer to Gavin. Gavin in return cleared his throat, suddenly shy as his fingers clamped tighter on the box. "Oh well, my accent right? Yes, I have been in America for quite a while now, it is a beautiful state."
"Not England though, am I right?" Gavin laughed alongside Ryan this time, easing up a little more from what he had been previously. It was like a switch had flipped when he realized that Ryan meant him no harm. "Oh not at all, I mean, I hail from there so of course I prefer it. But America is just as beautiful."
Ryan laughed again, this time for real. America was the farthest thing from beautiful, with a shitty President and just as shitty people it was an anomaly on how the place remained standing with it's sovereignty at all. Gavin seemed guileless though, as if he wasn't even attempting to lie. While Gavin was an expert on technology and machinery, Ryan was an expert on humans and their natural nature, he prided himself in being able to carefully observe everything in a person's body. It helped that he was so detached from humanity, for him it was like observing an animal instead of really taking in the way another being of the same species moved. So in that moment, examining all the little ticks on Gavin made it easier for him to decide what was running through the lads mind. He could tell, by his gait, that he was contemplating on allowing Ryan to see their 'not-so-secret-but-very-secret' base, just as much as he was contemplating what he wanted out of Ryan- though Ryan already knew that answer. Most people wanted one or two things from him, and he was doubting that Gavin was about to offer him a spot on the team. "Let's just say that America is different. I mean, there's so much crime here in Los Santos, it's pure madness."
Ryan tried his hardest to restrain his voice, but there was something about madness that just made him shiver, it was such a wonderful feeling pure in it's ecstasy and rare to come by, so even the word itself was enough to get Ryan hot. He held back on that though, knowing that scaring Gavin away wouldn't ease the situation. "I've been hearing all these rumors about a gang called... Something, I think it's the Fake AH Crew, or something like that. I can't remember to save my life." He added in a little laugh, watching as Gavin's stride jumbled a little bit. He pretended not to take any notice of that and instead continued on the path Gavin had designated for them. "Fierce warriors, strong leaderships, and a terrifyingly intelligent hacker. It seems to me they've got it all, except for a mercenary that is. But other than that, I mean wow it takes skill to be the catalyst that pulls all that madness together and somehow manage to make it look simplistic and coordinated. I know I fear for my safety, don't you?"
Gavin nodded, his throat constricted as he kept his gaze narrowed to the sidewalk. It was kind of endearing, seeing how oblivious he was to his own obvious actions, the fact that he couldn't seem to tell that he was pretty much giving himself away at this point was amusing for Ryan. "I do too, I hate it. All the crime and hatred, maybe one day a better world can become of it."
Ryan was taken aback by his tone, his countenance was distant and he couldn't see through his inscrutable gaze, it was like he had completely shut himself down from viewing. But his tone was still so raw and honest, he sounded like he himself was hurting when Ryan knew full well that he was the one doing the hurting, and Ryan liked that. He wanted to see more of it actually, he wanted to see all the small and broken sides of Gavin, which was something he could probably get on board with. Something about others being in pain was so beautiful to Ryan, and he wondered how far the depth of pain went in the fellow beside him. "Well, here we are. I can't thank you enough for your help, Ryan. I guess there's still some good to be salvaged in this city after all."
Ryan choked on a laugh, disguising it as a cough. "You'd be surprised." He answered instead, smiling down to the shorter male. The air between them was serene and calm, at least it felt like that. Ryan couldn't hear the voices in his head too well, it was all murky water at this point. There were words balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he had no idea what they were forming, or what they even meant. He spoke a plethora of languages, he never wanted to be incapable of scaring a foreigner perfectly just because he couldn't pronounce their native tongue properly, but he was sure whatever he was thinking had nothing to do with any other languages but a jumbled mish-mash of english itself. Unfortunately they were disturbed by the front door of the little run-down and secluded house being swung open. There was another male standing there, short as well, embellished in a purple hoodie and gray white-washed jeans with brown tattered sneakers and a black shirt underneath. His hair was unkempt, thus why he wore the red beanie, and his glasses were slightly crooked as if he had just recently been punched or something, he looked surprised to see both Ryan and Gavin there, so Ryan was safe to say that this person wasn't going out to greet his companion. "Ray, oh Ray! Hi!"
Gavin instantly supplied the air with many adjectives and nouns that would never formulate a proper sentence even if they had all the time in the world, or at least not complete any sentences. The male, Ray, seemed uninterested in whatever it was that Gavin was saying, he was instead scrutinizing Ryan as if Ryan were hiding a knife behind his back. Unfortunately today he went bare. "Who's this?"
He asked, and Ryan drew his attention away from the blubbering British man to look upon Ray with slight irritation. The one thing that threw off his game was unwelcomed newcomers. "My name's Ryan, I ran into Gavin in the market and decided to help him carry these boxes home." Ryan then squared his attentions onto Gavin who had schooled himself at least slightly. "I didn't know you had a Spanish lover."
This time both Ray and Gavin lost it, talking at the same time and denying being anything other than friends or comrades and at some point he heard Ray declare his hatred for Gavin. It was all very amusing, and Ryan was pleased to see that his 'enemies' or 'competition' was nothing more than a house of guy friends trying to play 'bad boys'. "I-I don't, Ray and I are just friends, Ryan."
Ryan smiled to Gavin, dismissing Ray by shoving the box he held into his arms instead. "That's good to hear, in that case here." Swiftly leaning over, he pulls out a pen and scrawls his number across the top of the box in perfectly legible handwriting. "Call me."
He finished, being sure to drop a wink for exaggeration. He was even more pleased when a blush scorned it's way across Gavin's cheeks, he was either monumentally embarrassed or happy and gushy. Ray on the other hand, who had been joined by another man who Ryan knew as Michael, was scowling with displeasure. "If we're quite done here, Gavin, a word?"
Michael had spoken instead, startling Gavin back into awareness. "Another man? My my Gavin, I'm getting a little jealous over here." Ryan teased, his eyes soft as they landed on Gavin's appalled expression. "Ryan I-"
"I'm only playing, your friends are amusing as well. I'll see you sometime, hopefully." He tried his best to keep the smugness from seeping into his smile, but the glares he was receiving from the crew was all too much, it made him feel like he had already accomplished something when in reality he hadn't done much of anything. Dipping his head to the other two politely, he turns and takes off down the street. He was certain that Gavin would text him or call him at some point, despite all the glares and scoldings he would undoubtedly receive. '98347 Starlight Rd. Got you...'
