Chapter 10: Sense & Sensibility
As Ethan and Michael braced themselves for what would surely be there last gunfight, Ethan took a moment to think back to a time before he became ensnared in such a chaotic and improbable lifestyle, wondering what during his life predetermined this to be his fate, or if everything was simply self-driven, a random amalgamation of individual choices that led to this point. He had never been big on religion or church, though his mother often talked about the bible and God to such an extent that one may have mistaken them for devout Christians. When Terry had been praying before they went after the Blaine County Chapter guys that day, Ethan wondered if it was that prayer that had allowed him to be quicker on the trigger than the man he shot to save Johnny's life, or if he was just in the right place at the right time.
I suppose thoughts of faith and predetermination weigh heavily on the soul before death, he pondered to himself.
Without warning the gunmen outside booted the door open, shattering the glass and charging in before anyone even knew what happened, but Michael was prepared, having had his pistol already trained on the door. As soon as the first man was through the door he unleashed a volley of 9mm rounds through the air, catching one of the gunman in the throat and dropping him to the ground. Ethan watched for a moment as the body toppled to the ground, the man gripping at his throat and hemorrhaging blood all over the white and blue tiles of the restaurant. From behind, screams of those caught in the crossfire screeched through the air, snapping Ethan to full attention as he fired three shots blindly towards the door, forgetting to aim and hoping that at least one of his rounds would strike somewhere. Alas, they were wasted shits, and as more armed men poured into the building the gunfire only grew more intense, the PDWs filling the air with what seemed like almost a blanket of steel core ammo, slamming into whatever they could before ricocheting back off. The sound of some of the 9mm rounds firing from the gunmen were impacting behind Michael and Ethan as soft thuds, and while Ethan knew all too well what that meant he couldn't bring himself to turn around and see who had been hit, rather he simply hoped that it wasn't Gwen, or if it was that she didn't suffer.
Seconds ticked away like hours as the gunfight drug into the fifteen minute mark, but Ethan knew it would soon be over, as he and Michael were both running dangerously low on ammo, and without resupply they were done for. As Ethan loaded his final mag a man wielding a pump shotgun came from above the counter, pointing the gun straight at Ethan's face as he began to pull back on the trigger. Thinking quickly he grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and pointed it straight downward, causing the man's finger to slip and discharge the weapon, in turn sending ceramic and caulking flying into Ethan's face and torso. The shrapnel burnt his flesh as he recoiled from the pain, toppling backwards and grasping at his now ringing ears that were covered in blood. Michael quickly grabbed the gun before the man could chamber another round, pulling him downwards and pinning him against the floor. As Michael and the gunmen struggled for control of the shotgun Ethan could only watch on as the two slugged it out on the floor, unable to see straight and dazed by the concussion from the blast. Scrambling frantically to find his pistol, as he had dropped it when he tumbled back, another gunman came around the corner of the service counter brandishing a PDW and pointing it straight at Michael. Ethan's hand slid across the floor until finally he felt the pistol lying just beside him.
"Hey," he screamed at the top of his lungs, catching the man off guard just long enough to allow Ethan to bring up his pistol and fired two shots directly at the man, the first striking his vest, and the second lodging itself in his right eye.
As the man's corpse hit the ground Michael quickly slugged his assailant across the face with his empty pistol, jerking the shotgun out of the man's hands, cycling a new round, and redirecting the barrel towards his assailant's chest. With a thunderous boom bone fragments and sinew flew from the man chest, completely shredding his body armor at such a close range, and sending blood and organ tissue flying across Michael's face. He threw himself back against the counter and grabbed Ethan, pulling him back up and into safety for the time being.
"Nice shootin', kid" Michael noted with an almost proud tone in his voice, as though he were happy to be fighting next to Ethan. "You're a regular Wyatt Earp, ya know that?"
"I've only got six shots left," Ethan returned, more concerned with the situation at hand than with how his shooting was. Michael quickly popped over the counter for a moment and sent a shot down range, striking another attacker in the leg and sending him to the floor writhing in pain.
"Then make 'em count!"
Ethan jumped from cover for only a moment and took aim at one of the men trying to get around behind them, firing a shot straight into the man's side, missing the vest and tearing through his lungs before bursting out the other side. As he returned to cover the sounds his target slowly suffocating as his lungs struggled to retain oxygen pressed heavy on Ethan's psyche, but he didn't concern himself with it. All he cared about was trying to get Gwen out of the restaurant alive at this point, and if that meant someone didn't get to go home to their family then that's what he was willing to do.
"Behind us," Gwen shouted. Michael and Ethan both turned and drew a bead on the steel loading door that was swinging open at the back of the kitchen, ready to drop the gunmen who had been stationed at the back of the building. To Ethan's surprise, however, it wasn't the gunmen that burst through the door, but instead two bikers armed with AKMs. As they cleared the blinding light coming through the door it was revealed to be Terry and Cricket, charging into the fray like the cavalry come to save them. Steel casings bounced all around as they laid down a hail of fire, the 7.62 rounds slamming into the attackers with enough force to blow many of them off their feet.
"Get the hell out of 'ere," shouted Cricket, signaling to the door. "C'mon, get up!"
Many of the civilians began making their way towards the door, though there was only three or four left, so they were out the door and gone quickly, with Lester and Gwen close behind. Michael stood up and fired his last two shells before ditching the shotgun and helping Ethan off the floor and out through the back, all the while Terry and Cricket stood brazenly in the doorway, laying down covering fire until they were all through.
Ethan scanned the parking lot beside Bishop's, locating his bike next to Terry's and making a mad dash, grabbing Gwen along the way and quickly mounting up. Cricket sprinted up and grabbed his bike, with Terry bringing up the rear after barricading the door with a dumpster. Firing up their bikes they quickly jumped on the throttle and tore off down the highway back towards the clubhouse, but Ethan soon realized that not only did he never get to finish his conversation with Michael and Lester, he didn't even know if they were alive. Terry and Cricket had pulled everyone out so fast that he wasn't even paying attention to see if they had gotten to a vehicle. For now he had to hope that they did, because as the three bikes rumbled down the highway Ethan knew that when they got back to the clubhouse there would be a whole slew of problems that were going to be addressed.
…
"What the fuck do you mean you don't know!?" Terry was furious, and since their return to the club had only grown more so, even as Cricket implored him to cut Ethan some slack and allow him to explain himself.
"I told you," shouted back Ethan. "I don't know what they wanted with us!?"
"Bullshit! Do you have any idea who those guys were? Well, do you?"
"If I knew the answer to that then I might be able to answer your first question, wouldn't I!?"
"Watch your fuckin' tone with me, prospect."
"Jesus, fuck," cried Cricket, dragging his palm down his face with a look of disgust. "Would you two gits stop carryin' on like a couple mouldy hoors, and for one feckin' minute just shut yer gobs and act like civilized feckin' adults!?"
Terry and Ethan stood silent, the only sound in the room being Gwen as she plucked ceramic fragments from Ethan's arms and face with a pair of tweezers. Cricket let out a sigh of relief and sat down in a chair across the room from Ethan's bed, while Terry continued to pace the room, holding back his urge to continue of his tirade.
"There, was that so 'ard? Listen, Cowboy, dem men were Martin Madrazo's personal security force."
"Meaning that he doesn't send them out for no good fucking reason," Terry interrupted.
"Which," Cricket hastily cut in, shooting Terry a look of discontent, "is why Terry 'ere is so caught up on tryin' t' find out why they were gunnin' fer ya."
"Like I said," replied Ethan, adamant to not tell Cricket or Terry anything about where he came from or why Madrazo's men were after him. "I don't know why they were after me, I just went to meet with a couple guys, and the next thing I know they started shooting people. Before I could get out of the joint they had us surrounded."
"Who were them fellers anyhow? The wanker with the shotgun, he was the one who came 'ere lookin' fer ya before, and th' way he 'andled himself told me he weren't a prick what to be fecked wit'."
"You followed us, did you not care enough to even eves drop on the conversation too?"
Ethan knew that he shouldn't be so rough on Cricket, even though he and Terry had tailed him to the meeting it was because of that Ethan was even still breathing, but he knew that he couldn't tell them the truth. If he didn't say something, though, they would either keep pressing him for information or lose trust in him completely, and without holding a members patch if he lost the trust of any brothers it could be a one way ticket to losing his prospect status. After thinking it over for a moment he decided that it would be best to tell them about Mark, and that they had information regarding him that Ethan had been hard pressed to find up until this point.
"A friend of mine went missing a few months back," he started. "We got separated when we first got to LS, and up until today I had no idea whether or not he was even still alive. The guy who came looking for me had information about him, but when I showed up they told me that he'd been kidnapped, and that they weren't sure who had done it. I don't know why they'd take him, or why they'd come after me, but if those guys worked for Martin Madrazo I think it's safe to say they're the ones who took my friend."
"Fuck," muttered Cricket, sliding into his chair.
Terry seemed to relax his body slightly, perhaps out of pity for Ethan, but either way some of the tension had fled the room, and it was obvious by their expressions that the two bikers had been put at ease, even if slightly, by Ethan telling them what he did. For a moment the trio sat silent, unsure of what to say, and contemplating what their next move would be, then Terry walked to the doorway and started to speak.
"It doesn't matter why, but if Madrazo's coming after you then it means he's started a war with the Lost. Not one we can really afford to be fighting right now with our attention on Blaine County, but regardless we protect our own. I gotta go meet with Johnny, he'll wanna know what's goin' down. In the meantime just try to rest up, and don't go getting' into anymore gunfights, yer face is already fucked up enough without the cuts and bullet holes."
With that Terry and Cricket left the room, leaving Gwen and Ethan to themselves, which was probably for the best considering that Gwen hadn't even managed to pry half of the fragments from Ethan's face. As she plucked away the prospect allowed his mind to wander, curious as to where his friend was, if Mark was alive or being experimented on by Madrazo's cronies in some backwater shack off the grid. He wondered what Johnny would have to say about the firefight at Bishop's Chicken, and whether or not they would terminate Ethan as a prospect for being too much of a danger to the club's survival.
What about Gwen, he thought. If I leave then who's gonna watch her? Would she just be safer if I left?
For an hour the two sat in total silence, Ethan in a stupor brought about by his own insecurity and a need for answers that he just didn't have at the moment, but for Gwen the silence was because she simply didn't know what to say to put the young man's mind at ease. As she pulled the last of the shards from his cheek and wiped away the blood with an alcohol pad she wondered about her feelings for Ethan, and whether or not he had the same for her, if he would be willing to put aside everything for her the way she would for him. After hearing what he said to Cricket and Terry, though, she knew that their situations weren't the same, she had nothing, no memory, no prior life, and she could afford to drop it all at a moment's notice because there was nothing to drop. Ethan on the other hand, he had obligations to the club, to himself, to Cricket and Terry, and more importantly to his lost friend, someone who he clearly held in high regards if he was willing to die to get information about him. Gwen wanted something more though, more than the violence and bloodshed, more than just getting by day to day, she wanted a life, a place to call home that wasn't in a biker bar, and she wanted it with Ethan. She decided if it wasn't the time now, then it would never be, so as she leaned against him and wrapped him in her arms, Gwen slowly began to say,
"Let's… let's run away together."
Ethan was taken back, blindsided by a question that he didn't know how to answer, and he knew that if he sat there for too long without saying anything then he risked losing everything.
"I want more than this," she continued. "I don't want to worry every time you leave if you're coming back or not. We could leave tonight, just grab our clothes and go somewhere, anywhere."
"It doesn't work like that." Ethan stood up and walked to the window, looking out into the streets below and watching as the rain drops collected in the puddles along the road side.
"Why not? Why can't it?"
"Because it just doesn't"
"That's bullshit! You control your life, no one else. Who's stopping you?"
"Me," Ethan shouted, spinning around and looking at the girl, tears streaming down her face as she sat on the bed, wishing he'd just come over and comfort her, but he wasn't going to, because that wasn't what she needed. "I'm stopping myself because I owe it to Mark and Jack to find them. I owe it to Cricket and to Terry to make up for putting their lives in danger, and more importantly I owe it to myself to prove that for once in my fucking life I can see something through until the end."
"Even if it means dying and leaving me here alone?"
Gwen's words cut Ethan deeper than she would ever know, because whether he would admit it or not he loved her unconditionally, and the thought that she didn't realize that drove through him like a dagger. In his mind what he was doing was for them, tying up any loose ends and ensuring that once everything was normal, or at least as normal as it could get, that Gwen and him could live a normal life. She wanted an immediate solution though, unable to see that her personal desires weren't achievable without the closure of anything that may come back to haunt them. Gwen didn't care though, she had heard enough to know that she wasn't going to convince him to leave with her, and so she flung herself onto the bed, wrapping her arms around a pillow and began silently sobbing while Ethan watched onward, knowing that nothing he could say would satiate her.
As he stood there wondering what kind of life they might be able to lead if they did just up and leave, the door slowly creaked open, and through it walked Johnny, by himself and with a look of disambiguation, making it clear that this wasn't a social call. He nodded his head towards the hallway, and without hesitation Ethan followed him out, closing the door and leaving Gwen to contend with her own problems. Johnny leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette and rubbing his scars.
"There's gonna be a church meeting in thirty minutes downstairs," he stated, taking a hit and looking towards Ethan. "I expect you to be there, no questions asked, understood?"
"Understood," replied Ethan, nervous as to what was going on. Church was only for patched members, so for a prospect to be asked to come was never a good sign, especially given the circumstances.
"Good. Wait outside the door until I come get you, and don't make a fuckin' sound."
With that Johnny left Ethan standing in the hallway, wondering what was about to happen at the meeting, and at the same time wondering if he should try to go back into the room and fix things with Gwen. As he pushed his ear against the door his faced burned from the cuts, but he was more concerned with what was on the other side. He could hear muffled sobbing, an obvious sign that Gwen was still very upset with what she had been told, but he couldn't bring himself to walk back in and face her, he was simply too ashamed. Instead he chose to make his way downstairs and wait outside the boardroom until Johnny came looking for him, passing Olivia on his way down the stairs, and catching a snide look from her on the way by. Gwen must have texted her, and if Johnny was there it came as no surprise that Olivia had been downstairs, or right outside the door knowing how nosey she was when it came to club business. Ethan felt a ball of guilt forming in his stomach, as though it was somehow his fault that he had to save Mark, as though he should be held responsible for her feelings. It had to wait, however, and as he sat in the chair outside the boardroom he silently awaited whatever judgement Johnny was about to cast on him.
…
"Alright, kid, get in here." Johnny had a very solemn tone about him, as though whatever they were talking about was weighing very heavily on him, and for Ethan that was certainly a sign that nothing good was to come of this meeting. He couldn't care less though, as the events of the day had already seen fit to crucify whatever semblance of jubilance Ethan had left in him, and the incident with Gwen did no favors either, only making him feel worse about decisions that he had no control over. Personal feelings mattered little now, and as Ethan sluggishly drug himself through the boardroom behind Johnny he could feel the laser like stare of members bearing down on him with judging eyes, no doubt furious at the thought of having to not only wage a war of rebellion, but now worry about an attack from one of San Andreas' most violent Latin drug lords potentially coming at any moment.
"Stand here," demanded Johnny, leaving Ethan at the end of a long table whilst the president slowly walked to the opposite end, a limp in his gait, no doubt a permanent reminder of his run in with Trevor, and his mistakes from not so long ago. As Johnny slumped into his chair he slouched backwards, laying one arm over the side of his seat and bringing the other up to stroke his greying beard. The room was silent, and his gaze sliced through Ethan, staring right into his soul and judging the very moral fiber that constructed the young man's consciousness, but Ethan felt there wasn't much to judge as he began to sense the ghastly palms of doubt and depression wrapping their corroded digits around his mind.
"We've had a lot of shit goin' down around here lately," Johnny started. "Shootouts, lies, brothers turnin' on brothers. Well we're gonna put an end to all that right here, right now,"
Ethan felt himself start to tense up, knowing that Johnny was referring to his little adventure earlier that day, but at the same time he didn't care, in fact he was almost angry, and while the portion of his brain responsible for self-preservation was telling him to keep his mouth shut, another more eccentric voice in his head was prodding him to pick a fight. There was no way that he would walk out alive if something kicked off in the clubhouse, but just taking down a few assholes before they stomped his head in would certainly feel better than knowing he had let himself be verbally castrated.
"That's why you're here kid. There's been some talk that you might be workin' for the other side, given 'em some information about our little operation."
Johnny stood back up and walked back to the end of the table where he had left Ethan, dragging his hand along the chairs and monotonously stomping his boots with each step, only adding another layer of tension to the eerily silent room. As he finally made his way to Ethan he locked eyes with the prospect, staring straight at him, unblinking, while he got so close to his face that the two were almost touching noses. The odorous smell of Johnny's breath seemed to carry a weight, and as he opened his mouth to speak it only grew more intense.
"Well, wha'd'ya say to that, kid?"
"Bullshit," Ethan snapped back, maintaining eye contact and refusing to back down, not giving an inch, stern in his conviction to his response.
"And you just expect me to believe you?"
"Yeah… I do."
The two stood in total silence for what seemed to drag on into every bit of ten minutes, not a single out of place breath being taken by anyone in the room, leaving Ethan wondering to what end this charade served to justify. If Johnny wanted to make a point he simply could have killed the boy, or have a member publicly disgrace him by giving him a thrashing in front of the others, but what he was doing almost seemed mocking, as though Ethan wasn't good enough to even deserve a beating.
Suddenly Johnny moved, quickly slamming his right hand into Ethan's chest beside his shoulder and grabbing his left arm as he felt the boy going to push away, instead drawing him in closer and pushing harder against his chest. Something was off, Ethan could feel a lump under Johnny's hand, and as he looked down to see what the biker was pressing against him, he was shocked to see a handful of cloth and polymer; a patch. Ethan was stunned, looking back at Johnny, and then again down at his chest, both ecstatic and confused, then he started to laugh, and Johnny returned the gesture with a grin and a half chuckle before letting go of the boys arm. The grey skull with wings was new and brilliantly stood out, encapsulated on the top by 'The Lost' and the bottom by 'Los Santos', a shining symbol of the brotherhood and comradery that came with being a Lost member, and at the same time carrying with it the weight of being responsible for the entirety of the club. For three months Ethan had worked for his patch, surprised that he had gotten it so soon, and surprised even more that it was the reason for the church meeting that he had been expecting to be his first and only.
"I expect that to be sewn onto your cuts the minute you leave, Cowboy."
Johnny had never called Ethan by his nickname, instead referring to him as "kid, or "that one", it was different, but the newly patched member wasn't complaining, as it was almost like a sign of respect, like Johnny was saying in his own way, 'Ya made it, kid.'
"Yes, sir," Ethan replied with a nod of his head, almost jumping out of his skin with the excitement that was tearing through every inch of his being, and fighting the urge to run over and punch Cricket in the arm while flashing him the new patch. His newfound joy wouldn't last forever, though, and he quickly realized this when Johnny's pleased expression soon curdled into one of sour disgust, as obviously he was either remembering something he would have preferred not to, or he was going to make an announcement that meant big problems for the club. Either way, Ethan knew that he was about to say something in front of everyone that may carry with it dire consequences, or even threaten the sanctity of the club itself.
"I wanted to wait until you were patched before we started talkin' club business, so let's get started." Johnny returned to his seat at the front of the boardroom, and Cricket motioned Ethan to an empty chair next to himself. "We've come into some information regarding the Blaine County Chapter of the Lost, and I think it goes without sayin' that it could prove detrimental to us and the Lost's western chapters as a whole. I'm sure that by now we've all heard the rumors of this 'Wolf' mother fucker runnin' around and killin' our brothers. Well them rumors are true, and to top it off he's now the acting president of the Blaine County Chapter."
It was suddenly as if the entire room had come alive, members nearly throwing themselves upon the table with disgust, and all the while bellowing obscenities over the audacity that a chapter President would not only turn their backs on the Lost's unwritten code of brotherhood, but that a president would simple renounce his authority and allow such a vial murderer to take his place. Cricket, Terry and Ethan were the only three that didn't feel the need to interject their opinion into an already combative situation, which was fine, as Quick seemed to be doing enough shouting and chest pounding for the lot of them. Johnny, however, sat quietly, stoic and looking straight ahead while the men around him carried on like savages, demanding action be taken, and that Johnny stop allowing them to harass their fellow chapters. It was becoming evident, though, that the club President was growing ever more impatient with their incessant squabbling, as they demanded action, but offered no solution. Finally, Johnny had enough.
"Shut the fuck up!" The room fell silent, and as everyone turned to the head of the table it was noticeably apparent that Johnny was in no mood to be listening to their infighting. "Everyone sit the fuck down, and listen."
With that the boardroom was returned to order, and everyone felt obliged to listen to their superior and take a seat, all of them aside from one person that is. Quick was still standing, reeling from the fact that Johnny felt as though he could talk to him in such a demeaning tone, and furious yet still from the inaction that Johnny had taken since they had been driven out of Blaine County.
"This is fuckin' horse shit, Johnny," sneered Quick through gritted teeth, pointing a judging finger and piercing through the man with eyes lit like the fiery intensity of a napalm strike. "Ever since we got run out by them dickheads we've all jus' had t' lay back an' take every blow they've thrown at us on the chin. Well I've had 'bout enough, and I know there's some other who feel the same."
Johnny crossed his arms for a moment, then scratched his right eyelid while shaking his head in a confirming manner, but it was painfully obvious that he wasn't agreeing with Quick, but rather thinking of a retaliatory statement. He stood up and walked to his right, standing face to face with the Vice President and longtime friend, knowing full well that he couldn't allow Quick's undermining of his authority to go unpunished. Placing his right palm on Quick's shoulder Johnny looked at his boots, again shaking his head in an agreeing manner, then looking back at his compatriots face. Catching Quick off guard Johnny cracked the burly man across the face with a sucker punch that sent him stumbling into the men sitting behind just to his rear.
"Don't you ever think you can talk to me like that," Johnny growled, watching as Quick regained his footing and grasped at the side of his face, already red from the blow. "Anyone else have an issue with how I'm runnin' shit?"
No one spoke up, but after that display who could blame them, Johnny would have probably just beat the next agitator to death, as it was painfully apparent he had held back when he attacked Quick. With a hushed silence cast over the room the two men returned to their seats, and Johnny took a minute to compose himself, disgusted at the fact that this rebellion within the club had taken such a toll on the loyalty of his Chapter.
"Alright," he continued. "What I was tryin' to finish sayin' was that they've also denounced their Lost memberships and decided to completely reorganize themselves as the Los Pistoleros. No doubt it's their new President tryin' to build a seperate identity for the club. That means from this point on it's no holds bar fighting; any Pistoleros you see in our territory is to be shot dead on sight."
Who is this guy, Ethan thought to himself. How could one guy take over as president of a club in just a few months, one whose members he was actively killing not but two months ago, and completely reorganize it?
The meeting was only generating more questions which no one seemed to have the answers to, but it couldn't be dwelled on, as Johnny already had a plan in motion to contend with the new threats.
"As a little welcome to the block gift for our newest neighbors I've decided we're gonna launch a raid on one of their new meth labs. They've been poppin' up all over the god damn place, and while I'm not sure where they're gettin' the cash to set these up, I know for sure that we're gonna be the pricks to knock 'em down. Terry, I want you, Cricket, Skid and Cowboy to set up this raid. No survivors, nothin' left standin'. Understood?"
"Gotcha," replied Terry, never uncrossing his arms.
"Good, then let's go over business as usual."
The remainder of the meeting was uneventful, with the majority of talks revolving around trying to revitalize the Lost's gun smuggling business in the region without drawing too much attention from law enforcement. Other topics included an upcoming poker run, the annual Lost meeting in Las Ventura for all American Chapters, and raising the price of beer at the bar by a few cents, nothing too pressing, and certainly nothing noteworthy. While the cabinet members rambled on about daily activities, Ethan couldn't help but think of how guilty he felt for leaving Gwen crying and alone in his room. There was no doubt that Olivia's arrival on the scene had only painted him as a larger scumbag than he already felt he was, as the woman had a profound way of exacerbating the situation and making everything worse off than when she arrived. He had decided that when the meeting let out he would rush to his room and hope that she was there, then apologize for the way he acted, but certainly not for his obligations to his friends and brothers.
Church had droned on for what felt like an eternity, the way any meeting does when one has allowed themselves to become preoccupied with its closure rather than taking a vested interest in the happenings. When it finally did conclude, however, Ethan was one of the first few out, but not wanting to seem overly eager to leave, as it may paint him in a negative light, he chose to linger until some others had made their way out. Hastily climbing the stairs two at a time he reached the top, bounding down the hallway and swinging his door open, only to find that the bed had been made, and there was no one anywhere to be found. Ethan spun on his heels and turned back out through the door, leaning against the frame and hating himself for having been too late. There was no doubt that by now Gwen and Olivia had gallivanted off to somewhere, a clothing store no doubt, to drown sorrow in the overpriced, poorly constructed textiles that had come to represent the indulgencies of American consumerism.
At the far end of the hall he heard a thud, and looking under Gwen's door he saw a shadow that only briefly swept past, at least giving him the faintest glimmer of hope that she hadn't yet left. Striding down the hall Ethan came upon the door rapidly and opened it with a swift turn of the knob, revealing a somewhat stunned and partially dressed Gwen standing by her dresser. The room had changed since he'd last entered, the walls were repainted a vibrant light blue, and much of the old, worn furniture had been replaced with newer, if not more cheaply constructed pieces that resembled build it yourself kits imported from Switzerland. Even the smell of the room had undergone a transition from the foul and odorous tinge of beer and vomit, to the flowery scents that now seemed to fill every corner and crevice. Drawing his attention back to the shocked woman, Ethan quickly closed the door, realizing that Gwen was only sporting an emerald green thong and matching socks.
"Gwen," he started, crossing the room, snapping the girl back from her daze. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, I shouldn't have been so short with you, I jus-"
"No," she interrupted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so sensitive."
Gwen paused for a brief moment to collect her thoughts, no longer than a few seconds, looking down at the floor and biting her lip, then returning her attention to Ethan, who seemed to just be standing there dumbfounded. He tried to talk again, but she wouldn't let him, and cut him off before he could even begin to speak.
"I thought that we were more than what we were, and when I said what I did it was out of line."
"More than what we were?" Ethan questioned her, confused as to why she would say something like that, but he soon realized that in all the time that they had been together neither of them ever definitively said what their relationship had become. "What do you think we are? Are we just friends… or is there something more here?"
"I don't know. Do you?"
Ethan hesitated to answer, unsure of what the young woman wanted to hear, but knowing in his heart that they had become more than just friends during the time they had spent together, and he wanted more than just a companion out of their relationship. Instead of giving her an answer he walked over and took her hand, walking over to the bed side with her and sitting down, her bare leg pressed against his faded denim jeans. Gwen's red hair partially covered her face, and her pale skin glowed in contrast to the dark lighting of the room, but Ethan couldn't stand to look her in the eyes, and instead drew his gaze to the floor. Finally, he mustered the courage and looked straight at her, saying:
"I don't know what you want us to be, but I know that I can't sit here and pretend that there isn't something between us. Gwen, you're an amazing woman with a great sense of humor that is just perfect in every way, and I want you to kno-"
Before he could finish Gwen jumped on top of him, pressing her lips against his and wrapping herself around him, the two intertwined on her bed, rolling across the sheets as Ethan tried to take off his jacket. As the pair proceeded on Ethan thought to himself that her intervention was certainly a stroke of luck, as he hadn't really thought through a way to end what he was trying to say, but he certainly wasn't complaining.
…
Cricket hadn't even bothered to knock when he opened the door to Gwen's room, and upon seeing her and Ethan both stark naked and lying under her red sheets he found himself slightly pleased that he hadn't, as seeing the new member in his birthday suit was certainly fodder he could torment the poor boy with later.
"Hope I din't interrupt nothin'," Cricket remarked with a grin as Gwen gasped and quickly threw the covers up over her exposed body.
"Nope," returned Ethan. "Just getting' ready to leave."
He stood up and tossed the covers off himself, revealing a few tender areas that Cricket wished he had kept private, but if there was one thing being a Lost member taught Ethan, it was that nothing stayed private for long, so he wasn't too hard-pressed to hide himself.
"Jesus Christ, boyo," blasted Cricket. "Put some feckin' trousers on and get yer hairy, white arse downstairs, Terry's waitin' on us."
"You got it."
As Cricket closed the door and wandered back off down the hall he could be heard talking to himself until he reached the steps, clearly still stunned by the package that Ethan had presented him with. While he slid into his jeans and pulled the white tank top over his head, Gwen rolled onto her side and looked at her man, running her hands down his back as he sat to lace his boots up, then flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling with a pleasantly satisfied smile pursed across her lips.
"So what's Terry want," she asked. "Cricket seemed to be in a hurry."
Ethan was hesitant to tell her what Johnny had said at the meeting the night before, but he realized that if he couldn't tell Gwen these private things then they only ran the risk of having even further problems down the road. She had also proven to be quite a trustworthy consiglieri, so he felt that she wouldn't go running her mouth to everyone in the club, as Olivia had probably already done.
"We're goin' on a raid," Ethan finally returned, standing up and throwing on his jacket.
"A raid?" Gwen sat up in bed, letting the blanket fall from her breasts and supporting herself against the headboard. "Why?"
"The Blaine County Chapter of the Lost is under new management, call themselves Los Pistoleros now, so Johnny wants us to send them a message that we're done going easy on them. Don't tell anyone, though, I could get in a shit load of trouble."
"Is it gonna be dangerous?"
"Very."
"God dammit," Gwen moaned, getting up and walking across the bed. She jumped down and marched over to stand in front of Ethan with her hands on her hips, hardly the intimidating presence as she poised herself in front of him completely nude. "Did you even think how I would feel about this? We finally figure this shit out and now you're off to potentially get killed? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ethan bit his tongue, not wanting to instigate another fight between them, but knowing that regardless of what he said to her Gwen would ultimately be either disgusted or infuriated by his answer.
"It wasn't my choice," he started. "Johnny asked me to do this, I couldn't say no."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because… because this is who I am, who we are. This is our life, Gwen. It ain't glamorous, but we're not on the streets, and for as rough as a lot of these guys are, they're our friends, and they treat us like family."
Gwen was furious that he would try to play against her emotions, but she knew that regardless of how she felt that Ethan was right, and he very well couldn't turn down Johnny considering that he was letting them stay without even having to pay rent. The Club was like a family, and even though there were times when she wished that they could get away from the drugs and violence, she wouldn't want to trade in any of the friends she had made during their stay.
"Shit," Ethan muttered, clasping pieces of fabric in his hands.
"What's wrong?" Gwen walked over to see what he was holding in his hand, and quickly saw that it was a large patch, three separate pieces to be exact, and they were the same patches that she had seen all the patched members of the club wearing. That's when it hit her, the meeting must have been to patch Ethan in as a member, and as quickly as her pride for him came it again went, realizing that Ethan must've been thinking about their fight during the whole ceremony, not even getting to enjoy his first meeting with the others.
"I forgot to sew this on last night," Ethan replied.
"Leave your jacket with me, I'll sew it on while you're talkin' with the guys."
"You sure?
"Not a problem."
Gwen took the patches from his hand and helped him to slide back out of the leather jacket, departing with the materials as she gave him a peck on the check and walked over to her dresser to pull out a small sewing kit. Ethan admired the view as she strode away, her ass waving back and forth in almost a farewell manner, beckoning the young man to leave the room and make his way downstairs where Terry and Cricket were waiting.
He quickly trotted down the steps, tucking his pistol back into its now exposed holster under his arm, and hoping against odds that no one would notice that he wasn't wearing his cuts. As soon as he rounded the corner, however, he realized that he would have no such luck, as Terry shot him a confused and slightly irritated look.
"Where's yer cuts," Terry questioned, but before Ethan had a chance to respond a hand slapped across Terry's back, and Cricket was quick to speak on the boy's behalf.
"Someone 'ere had a rough go of it last night, Terry, so cut 'im some slack, yeah? After what I saw this mornin' ya outta be glad the little shite din't ferget 'is feckin' pants!"
"I'll take yer word," Terry returned with a slight chuckle, turning his attention back to Ethan and beckoning him to come and sit at the table. "We're just waitin' on Skid, then we can get started."
As the trio sat down and bought a round of drinks, Skid finally came in through the clubhouse doors, out of breath and in a hurry, as it was obvious he had been rushing to get back on time. Ethan hadn't had much time to really get to know Skid since his arrival, as he tended to hang out with Quick and a few others who didn't frequent the clubhouse all too often, but he certainly didn't seem like a bad kid by any means. Well, for a biker anyway. Ethan had been told that Skid was Quick's nephew, the boy was barely old enough to buy cigarettes and he was already being thrust into the bloody and gruesome world of one percenter motorcycle clubs, nevertheless he was capable, good with a gun and had obviously been riding since he was a child. Quick tended to baby him, though, and it made him a target for ridicule when he was alone with the other members, so he was always looking for a fight, a way to prove himself. After hearing how Ethan had saved Johnny, Skid grew somewhat jealous, as he had always been trying to prove to Johnny that he was just as capable as any other member, but he also understood that no one would truly respect him until he stepped out from Quick's shadow.
"Good," Terry stated upon seeing the boy enter. "We can finally get this show on the road."
There was no maps, no schematics or plans laid out in great detail, just a cell phone that the four men gathered around as Terry pulled up a satellite map of San Andreas, then proceeded to zoom in on a small structure located in the Tataviam Mountains. The image was a top view, but it was crisp and clear, showing that what Ethan had originally thought to be a singular structure in the middle of nowhere was actually a small compound hidden well away from any prying eyes with several substructures built around what looked like a primary facility. If Terry could find it so easily on a satellite map, however, it raised the question as to why someone like the police couldn't just do the same. It seemed to make very little sense, but as Terry lay the phone down and began to talk, it was soon apparent as to why no one had stepped in sooner.
"This is the place," he started, lighting a cigarette and lifting it to his lips. "It's an old homestead up in the mountains those fuckers converted into a cookhouse. Place is filled with a shit load of meth, crank, PCP, and enough fuckin' guns to take on the Los Santos PD, who hav no idea anyone is even living there right now."
"So what's the plan," Skid questioned with eagerness in his voice. He was surprisingly well spoken, with a white collar accent reminiscent of the typical San Andrea suburban teen, nothing like his uncle, whose spoke with a tone of someone who had spent a majority of their life in the rural flat land of Blaine County. "How're we gonna fuck 'em up?"
"You ain't gonna do shit," Terry retorted. By the tone in his voice it was apparent that he was none too pleased with having to take someone so inexperienced along, but Johnny had requested that he go, no doubt to satiate the kid's want to hang with the big dogs. "After the sun goes down we're gonna drive to about two miles outside the compound, then creep in the rest of the way. Once we get in we'll plant explosives in the lab and gun storage locations, then exfil and blow the cock suckers sky high."
"Well what the fuck am I gonna do then?"
"You'll stay with the van and make sure we don't get caught."
Skid was blatantly agitated that Terry wasn't going to let him have a larger part in their plan, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and not get on the bad side of the Sergeant-at-Arms. Terry could clearly care less what the kid's opinions of him were, the fact was that Skid was inexperienced, unpredictable, and trying too hard to impress people that genuinely didn't care enough to cast him a passing glance. Having rode on his uncle's curtails, and received his patch too early without even going through his prospect phase, many viewed him with disdain, though he personally had never done anything to incur this sour attitude held by many in the club. Terry snuffed his cigarette and turned back to Cricket and Ethan, putting his phone back in his pocket and ushering them outside. As Ethan walked past Skid it was apparent that he was receiving quite an evil glare, no doubt wishing that their roles were reversed, but Ethan gave no quarter and shot back a scowl of his own, forcing the young man to relent his gaze and look towards the floor.
As the men walked through the doors of the club a large black van awaited them outside, sitting on large 32 inch rims with aggressive tread tires and a six inch lift kit, more of a war wagon than a cargo van at this point, but no one complained. As the doors opened the trio were greeted by a small, breathtaking arsenal that Terry had accumulated for their mission, taking pride as Cricket and Ethan gawked on in wonder and bewilderment. Ethan had grown up in a rural town, so firearms had become something of a hobby for him, tinkering, gunsmithing and performing odds and end work for his friends and family, and eventually gathering quite a collection of military surplus arms, AR15s and AKMs. His small stock was nothing compared to what Terry had brought though, making a NOOSE team's loadout look like they were simply going deer hunting.
"We'll be using these bad puppies," said Terry, pulling down two Vom Feuer Carbines from the side panels. Ethan took one, inspecting the rifle over and admiring the craftsmanship on the barrel, as well as how well balanced the gun was considering the somewhat shocking weight. Terry had put some suppressors on the rifles, but it was apparent that a firefight in the compound was only to be a last ditch effort to escape if the men had found out, as even suppressed each shot would still be fairly noticeable.
"So how we goin' about this, then," asked Cricket, letting the bolt carrier on the rifle slam closed as he released the charging handle.
"We'll stick together," returned Terry. "There's no point in splitting up, it only makes us more vulnerable. Come in from the south, hit the barn, farmhouse and garage, then pull out and light if off like a fireworks display."
The plan was simple and straightforward, which meant that it was hard to screw anything up, even Skid couldn't mess up as long as he listened to Terry, but Ethan was more than ready. For once he felt like he wasn't nervous about walking straight into a gunfight, especially not after his shootout the previous day. It was a strange feeling, however, no longer having the same fear of being shot or killed when the bullets started flying, and to some extent it worried him that perhaps he was already getting too used to this style of living again. On one hand he was adapting, a trait that he wouldn't have made it without, but on the other hand the act of killing was becoming something of a benign fact of life, murder was the societal norm, even going as far as to be encouraged within the club, and while Ethan himself wouldn't have normally given it a second thought, he wondered how Gwen's views of him would change if she saw the person he was becoming.
Hello to my loyal readers, and to those who have been waiting for the continuation of the story I'm dreadfully sorry that it has taken me this long to finally be able to sit down and continue it. I know that these aren't the action packed chapters filled with the violence and gore that we've come to love throughout the GTA franchise, but I can assure you that they are coming, and sooner than you think. I've been trying to build a strong romantic subplot between the two main characters, and in doing so it may seem that I've diverted from the essence of the game, but I feel that character development and strong supporting stories are just as integral to success as the main plot is. If anyone has any input, or feels that something just isn't finding an appropriate niche within the story, feel free to drop a comment in the reviews, or Private Message me. I'm always open to criticism, and keeping in contact with the reader base is as important to me as the story itself.