Our first two endeavors went quite smoothly. I bought a pistol in a shop, totalling 100$ off my 8k starting budget, and ingested an inordinate amount of alcohol for the low low price of free, thanks to Rich.

"And this is my Nightclub. Best place in Los Santos for having braindead fun and stocking industrial quantities of illegal stock. Made sure of it."

He gestures towards the writhing mass of people on the dance floor.

"Idiots. All of them. But rich idiots, easily scammed and emptied of their riches. Favorite type."

He's slurring a bit but oh well. I'm not in better shape, to be quite honest with you. We've both drunk half the whiskey in the joint, and we're stumbling like, well, drunkards on a boat in a storm. As we descend into the garage, Rich starts perking up, and I know exactly why.

It's flexing time.

He immediately starts showing off his cars, so many I can't even recognize the models of most of them. But it all falls away when I see Her. I stumble towards Her in a drunken haze, and I catch Richie's smile.

"The Zentorno, eh? Good choice. Now, let's get you some proper wheels."

We bust out, tyres squealing and engine screaming, and shoot off into the Los Santos streets. Many cars pass by, but there is one I see that stands out among the rest, near the LifeInvader building.

"Stop, right here."

Richie parks the supercar precisely in the middle of the road, and I get out. He follows me with his eyes as I stumble with conviction towards a Bravado Gauntlet, complete with a scared looking occupant. I toss open the door, and unceremoniously throw him down onto the asphalt, while Rich watches on.

I climb in, and hit the accelerator. He hollers and quickly catches up.

"What's this? Doesn't look like much, I'll tell ya."

"Shut up. It's nice. I like it."

It's a very nice car indeed. Beautiful, too. Bit less after I plough through a crowd of pedestrians. I furrow my brow. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"You're supposed to drive on the road, ya twit."

My brow goes up as he plows through three streetlamps in a row after saying this.

"Hypocrite."

Somehow we reach LSC, and I drive my car inside. The guy inside raises an eyebrow at the spatters of blood, but says nothing. Guess Los Santos is that type of place after all. He charges me 3k for the whole package: repairs, tracker and insurance. He hands me a catalog of colors, and I flip through it.

I settle on a metallic dark blue, and color the stripe black. After missing the handle twice, I burst out of the repair shop and into the parking lot.

Rich whistles when he sees the car. He starts vehemently clapping.

"That's actually very nice, I didn't know a petty street car could look that good."

"Yeah right, see for yourself. This 'petty street car' could whoop your ass too."

"Bet?"

This was a horrible idea. A few minutes later, we're in a large scale police chase and down a tire. How did this happen?