Chapter Two
Michael was in a bit of a spot, he needed to appease the FIB, he needed a crew, and he needed to deal with his cheating wife. He could probably fit them all together, he just had to be tactical about it. Franklin would take kindly to a bit of cash and some words of praise, and Trevor just needed to be able to shoot people, should he throw a wrench in the works. The job details he was given were fairly easy, simple, almost. Michael would be securing a VIP by rappelling down the IAA offices, with a chopper there to extract him and a sharpshooter to assist in the escape. However, Michael realized they would need some extra help. It would be safe to assume that a reasonably sized response team would be sent after him, likely including helicopters, so they would need something extra. It clicked in Michael's head as he snatched his phone. Fortunately, he didn't need it.
"You must be DeSanta." a raspy voice called into the house. Michael rushed for his gun, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it was just the bike guy from the heist, Nathan.
"Yeah that's me, what are you doing in my house?" Micheal asked, letting his guard slip just a bit, but keeping wary of the criminal contractor.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot. The job went well, and I should apologize for being an ass." Nathan stated. He was certainly more casual than he was before, being more open emotionally, wearing an old air force jacket, jeans, combat boots, and an oil stained MCU t-shirt.
"I get it, I do." Michael stated. "New contractor, new job, heard he messed up big. Honestly, I wouldn't trust me either in your situation. Listen, I may have some work for you."
"Might want to wait, I'm smelling something off." Nathan stated, a slight sniff in his tone. Nathan walked over to the freezer, opening it to reveal a block of weed. "Bad product, probably purchased off a small-time dealer behind a Cluckin Bell. Trust me, a smuggler knows good product."
"Fucking hell, I garuntee you I know who's this is." Michael groaned. "JIMMY!"
"What the fuck is happening, Dad?" Jimmy demanded as came down the stairs. "Who's this?"
"Nathan Evans, I work with your father." Nathan stated. "I fly, if you want to know."
"Oh, uh, cool, but Dad, what the hell are you doing with my kush!?" Jimmy responded, adding his demand at the end.
"First off, it's fucking marajuana, not kush." Michael started. "And second, I don't give a damn about that right now cause your mom's probably fucking her yoga instructor!"
"Did someone say yoga?" a thick voice suddenly called out. Michael turned to face the voice, almost instantly regretting the decision. It was Trevor, of fucking course. "Who's this clown? Marriage problems, Mikey?"
"No, I'm a pilot." Nathan began. "Nathan Evans, at your service."
"A pilot eh? What do you fly?" Trevor asked, rather curious.
"I mostly fly prop aircraft now, Cubans, Vellums, the like. But I flew Lazers, Hydra's, Strike Forces, and even the odd bomber back in the air force days." Nathan stated. Trevor gave a hefty slap on Nathan's shoulder.
"I think I'm going to like you." Trevor stated before shifting his focus onto Michael. "Mikey, you never told me that you were alive, we could have caught up, had some coffee, robbed a bank! You know, like the old days!"
"What the hell is Trevor doing here?!" Amanda spat. "And who the hell is this guy!?"
"I'm not even bothering anymore." Nathan groaned. Trevor, Amanda, and Michael got into a heated Argument, with Jimmy talking to Nathan about the military or guns or something. Well, more talking at Nathan. Nathan was clearly uncomfortable, likely not being a conversationalist, to the point he gave Jimmy his phone number to shut him.
"Thanks man, by the way, my sister's about to embarrass herself on national television, wanna see?" Jimmy asked the pilot.
"Where at?" Nathan asked.
"She said she's going to the Fame or Shame tryouts at the Maze Bank Arena." Jimmy stated.
"Michael, crazy homeless guy, your daughter is gonna fuck up infront of millions of people. Meet me at the arena." Nathan stated, running to his car. Micheal followed, finding Nathan opening the door to a beat up old Karuma. Michael got Trevor in his car and followed Nathan to the arena, where the three stormed the auditions room.
"This is a matter of familial security, please be at ease." Nathan stated after knocking a security guard out with a single punch. Next came chaos, as the producer, Lazlow, tried flirting with Tracy, setting of Trevors "ultra protective uncle" instincts, leading to him threatening the man with a Desert Eagle. Ensuing was a chase, resulting in threatening Lazlow by forcing him to dance with his pants down for trying to seduce Tracy.
"You know, that was fun." Trevor stated. "You may need to loosen up, Mikey, do things the fun way, hurt people, you know?"
"Yeah maybe, you goddamn psycho, just wonder how Nathan's dealing with Tracy, she's quite a fucking handful." Michael sighed.
"FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME, IF YOU PROPOSITION ME AGAIN I WILL CRASH THIS CAR INTO A SEMITRUCK!" Nathan screamed, not caring about how bad his throat hurt. Unknowingly, he began drifting straight into oncoming traffic.
"HOLY SHIT WE'RE ABOUT TO CRASH!" Trach screamed in response. Nathan snapped into disaster response mode, drifting the car into the proper lane and narrowly avoiding being struck by a car.
"There, now we won't crash." Nathan stated, easing into proper, legal traffic.
"That right there is the kinda shit that makes me want to-" Tracy began.
"Please don't continue." Nathan groaned, putting his hand back onto the steering wheel. "I'm not interested in this kind of thing. I get you may want that, and I respect that, but I'm not interested in, uh, relations."
"I see." Tracy sighed. "So I'm guessing you're a criminal? Since you know my dad, I mean."
"First off, be careful saying shit like that." Nathan stated. "Second, yeah, I'm a pilot, mostly smuggling."
"Gotcha." Tracy sighed. "Dad is so dumb sometimes, I just want to be famous and he ruined it!"
"I think your dad had the right idea, he just could have handled it better." Nathan stated. "You're his kid, he wants only the best for you, he just doesn't know how to express it properly."
"How do you know that?" Tracy spat. "He ruined my chance on Fame or Shame!"
"He also protected you from ridiculing yourself on national television." Nathan stated. "Attention can be both a good thing and a bad thing. And if attention comes at the cost of your health, mental or physical, it ain't good."
"Do you have experience with that?" Tracy asked.
"Not quite, but I know these things." Nathan sighed. "All I really gotta say is that war changes people, remember that." Nathan was happy for the young woman to finally shut up. Nahtan sighed as he pulled into Michael's driveway,
"How was she? Didn't try anything?" Michael asked as Nathan guided Tracy to the door.
"Even if she did, I wouldn't have accepted." Nathan stated.
"Thank god, you're a real G, as Franklin would put it." Michael stated before continuing. "Listen, now that we can trust one another, I'd like to offer you a job."
"What kind of job?" Nathan asked, reaching for his own handgun, just in case.
"I'm in a bit of a spot with the FIB. Gotta help them out with some stuff to keep both of our asses covered, and I could use someone to run airborne interference." Michael explained. A smirk formed on Nathan's face.
"I got an old P-996 in storage, I can fix it up, load it's weapons, run that interference for you." Nathan stated. "Gonna cost a pretty penny though…"
"Put it on the fed's tab." Michael stated. "I'm sure they will pay the expenses."
"I somehow doubt that." Nathan chuckled. "I'm giving you a note with my number, feel free to give it to anyone else you know. Especially your son, I want that kid to buy good product if he's gonna be a damn pothead."
"Yeah sure." Michael stated. "I'll send you the details. See you on the day of the job, don't be late." Nathan nodded, ending the conversation as he entered his car, calling Agent 14 as he drove to his hanger.
"Fourteen, I got an in." Nathan stated. "Boss man hired me to run interference, I'll need some sidewinders and a heap of 20 mil, I'm bringing the ole' girl out of the hanger for this one. Could use a hand fixing her too, why don't you stop by the hanger? We can chat, have a cold beer, and fix up the jet."
"Hell yeah, this deserves a celebration!" Fourteen exclaimed. "Looks like One Wing is coming out of retirement!" The mention of Nathan's old callsign gave him a bit of a smile. Nathan was known as a skilled pilot, and he earned that reputation long before he even held rank. During his training, a fuel tank mounted to his Lazer to simulate weight exploded, tearing off the wing it was attached to. In spite of the panicked crash that would ensue if it had happened to any other trainee, Nathan kept his cool, landing the plane almost perfectly, save for tearing apart the wheels trying to get enough friction to stop the jet. This incident earned him the moniker "Solo Wing", and a consistent habit of painting the tips of his right wing to remind himself of this feat. He remembered the day he came home from training and told his mother of what happened.
'Son,' he recalled his mother telling him. "What you did was stupid, suicidal, and probably cost the government more than what they would have paid to replace the jet if you ejected, I'm proud of you." He chuckled at that last part, his mother certainly had a way with words. Arriving at his hanger, Nathan walked past his Cuban and ripped off the canvas sheet covering another aircraft, his old Lazer. Nathan ran his hand along the fuselage of the plane, it was certainly a nightmare to keep the old bird. After a massive pile of paperwork, and assurances it would only be used for government contracts, Nathan was given the ability to argue in court for his plane. The jury was not cooperative, but after six hours of his lawyer skillfully arguing for his need to keep his old vehicle, the jury voted 5-4 in favor of letting Nathan keep his jet. Nathan immediately changed into a set of nomex coveralls and got to work fixing the jet. It certainly had taken a serious amount of damage back in the day, but it wasn't beyond fixing. In about a day, the fuselage was in enough condition to fly. The next two days went much faster now that Agent 14 was helping him, barring their breaks to eat, drink, and catch up with each other. After three days, the jet was working just fine, ready for combat.
"So, Nathan, thinking you're back in the business?" Agent 14 asked, signaling to the unpainted right wing. Nathan smirked as he picked up a spray gun.
"I think so." Nathan stated, letting the orange paint cover the right wing. It was finally finished, his jet was, at long last, ready for true combat. Solo Wing was back.
Nathan no longer felt self conscious about wearing his flight suit when saw what Michael was being subjected to wearing. He was forced to wear a skin tight infiltration suit with rappelling gear attached to it. Nathan couldn't help but laugh, that man was awful compared to him.
"Well, if it isn't the government gimp!" Trevor laughed. "Even Nathan looks better than you and he's wearing a goddamn flight suit! Those things are ugly, but they do look better than that kinky shit you got on, Mikey."
"I don't know, Michael certainly would get some attention from the opposite sex." Nathan laughed. "Noone would ever look at this and say they'd want to take me out."
"When you say that, do you mean with a sniper or to dinner? Cause to military guys, I know it means more than one thing." Trevor asked.
"Surprise me." Nathan started with a laugh, before noticing Franklin. He was haphazardly handing a rifle, a bolt action .338 AWM sniper rifle. Nathan rushed over to him to help him handle the rifle properly.
"Look, you want to be able to hit what you're aiming at, and that won't do you any favors, you look like this is your first time picking up a gun, and I know you've shot before." Nathan stated. "It's fine though, I can imagine you're new to marksmanship, so I'll give you some pointers."
"Ain't you just a pilot though man? You sure you can teach this to me?" Franklin asked. Nathan scoffed.
"I'm SEAR certified, of course I can teach you how to shoot." Nathan chuckled. "Now then, let's get to this." Nathan explained sniping to Franklin. Not just how to shoot, but how to act, how to think. He taught him about how sniping is an art, like painting or drawing, the only difference being the stakes at play.
"Well, that's the jist of it, the rest comes from experience. I gotta get ready for take off, see you in the AO." Nathan stated.
"Keep safe." Franklin acknowledged, getting ready for his own role. As Nathan approached his jet, he noticed Trevor admiring the fighter.
"Nathan, my boy, you never told me about this beautiful jet, where'd you get it?" Trevor asked.
"Afghanistan." Nathan explained. "Served a tour there, ended in disaster. I'd rather not get into it."
"I see, so you're laying down covering fire for me and Mikey when we're in the air huh?" Trevor asked. "How can I know you can handle it?"
"I've got experience flying under pressure, we'll leave it at that." Nathan smirked, clipping his helmet on as he climbed into the cockpit. Nathan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he felt the controls of his old jet. He had to admit, it felt good to be back in this kind of pilot seat, very good indeed.
"N, we need cover, I can only do so much against the choppers." Michael stated over the Radio.
"Solid copy, moving for intercept." Nathan stated. With his usual blank expression, Nathan rushed into the battle, flying towards the enemy helicopters and tearing apart what he could with the front gun and launching missiles at what he had to. Again, it felt good to be back in battle. The sound of his afterburners ripping through the sky, the air in his mask growing stale, the sound of his gun ripping through aircraft, it was life for him, and he was glad to be living it. It was all over, and Nathan got to land his aircraft at the Sandy Shores Airfield.
"Good flying Trevor, good flying." Nathan stated, taking his helmet off. "You're a real motivator man."
"Hey you did great too, Nathan." Trevor stated. "Brings me back to all the flying that Canadian Air Force psychiatrist assholes refused to let me do."
"Damn, that sucks Motivator." Nathan sighed. "I better head back to LSIA, Lester needs me to deliver the gems from Michael's job." Nathan left for the airport. His statement of needing to deliver the gems was a lie, he dropped them off to the buyer weeks ago. No, he needed to meet with Agent 14. The bar he chose was clearly a criminal den, Nathan knew one when he saw one. Nathan sighed, stepping in to meet with Agent 14.
"Nathan, good to see you." Agent 14 greeted, handing him a glass of beer. "How'd the mission go?"
"It was solid, no casualties, none that mattered anyway." Nathan stated. "We have the guy, do you have the intel?"
"Yep, a guy named Musa Ambaraov." Agent 14 began. "Terrorist, trafficker, working with the guys at Humane Labs to develop weapons. We did some wetwork to pin his actions on some guy named Tahir, should throw off the FIB and those guys you were with. I'll plan the assassination on the real guy. In the meantime, got any intel on the crooks the FIB is paying?"
"Yep, I'll start with the guy I assume is the boss." Nathan began. "Michael Townley, now DeSanta. He's forty six years old, has a rocky marriage and two disappointing kids, and he's going through a midlife crisis. Don't like the man, his ego's too big, but we can use that. On top of that, he's a dead man walking, he betrayed his crew to get out of the game."
"Alright, who's the trailer park trash guy?" Agent 14 asked.
"Trevor Philips." Nathan began, taking a sip of his drink. "Canadian American dual citizen, can't figure his age out, and he's goddamn crazy. Failed Canadian Air Force psych tests, went even crazier than he already was and joined Michael, saw him 'die', moved here, started up a drug business with some mute guy. Overall, be afraid of him."
"I'll keep that in mind. What about the kid?"
"His name is Franklin Clinton, been in prison once for armed robbery, let out on behavior, tried leaving the game." Nathan explained. "He used to work for Simeon Yetarian, a con artist disguised as a legitimate businessman. Now, Franklin's getting back into crime. I think if we can show him he's getting conned by Trevor and Michael, and appeal to his desire to be something more, we can use him."
"You certainly have good intel." Agent 14 stated. "I think I have a plan for this. You see-"
"What am I missing?" Dani stated, stepping into the bar.
"Dani, good to see you, how's the exec work?" Nathan asked.
"Lots of red tape gone but even more added." Dani sighed. "Nothing new. So, are we planning something?"
"Yes, Fourteen was about to explain his plan of action against the real terrorist in Los Santos." Nathan stated.
"So, I tipped him off that we're going after him." Agent 14 explained, showing off a series of texts to an unknown number. "He's gonna panic and his men will take him to LSIA to flee the country. We'll ambush them in the tunnels near Sandy Shores, use plastic explosives and bikes to stop his convoy, and take him out quickly with SMGs. We then grab whatever cash or guns or shit his guys have and make it look like a robbery gone wrong before we leave. In and out in six minutes."
"Good, can't wait to hear your after action report." Dani stated. Something about this bothered Nathan, and he wasn't going to let it be bottled up.
"Now hold on." Nathan stated. "This whole conspiracy was your idea. You want control over Merryweather, you better be putting work in. I want to see you there, it might be good for you. Get the blood pumping, escape the office, kill some people, nice relaxing work."
"Alright, I'll join you." Dani sighed. "One condition, however. You better find a way to incorporate who you once were into your gear, I miss the old Nathan."
"Fine, let's get this done." Nathan stated. He finished the rest of his drink and the three separated. It was about time he got to work with his old friends again.
A/N: Glad to get more of this out. So, a few quick things, this fic is assuming that there was a terrorist in LS, but the FIB got their intel wrong. There is going to be a part of the next chapter that will show off the assassination of the real terrorist. I'll get this started now, a running gag will be that Nathan's guns will start off fairly normal, and slowly get weirder and weirder until he's using a damn EM2 or something stupid like that. That's all for now, until next time, hope you enjoyed and have a great day!