Marcy May is a beautiful young woman at the age of 32. She loves to travel, and she never goes anywhere without her crazy best friend. She has just finished up business in Liberty City and is now making her way to Los Santos. One of her acquaintances in Liberty City told her to "hit up my boy Lamar and give him some love from his homeboy," as he put it. The Liberty City trip had been for business but this one is just for fun. After making a quick stop at home to touch base with Daniel – the man she left in charge of her business – Marcy is now on her way to Los Santos at this moment.
"Attention passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We will be arriving at our destination in approximately one hour. Please relax and enjoy the remainder of your flight." Hushed conversation continues throughout the cabin of the large plane. A couple ladies a few rows from the back of the cabin murmur amongst themselves.
"Did you see that brute of a man a few rows up?" the first woman asks, ducking down behind the seats before her so they don't catch wind of the conversation. The second woman looks ahead then ducks down as well.
"Yes, and did you see the woman he's with? They are quite the odd couple," the second responds. The first woman shakes her head.
"Not that. Did you see the blood on his shirt, and the scars on his arms? There's no doubt that man is trouble. What could he possibly be doing with that young woman?" She takes a quick peak over the seats again before quickly ducking back down. "I think she just looked at me!"
"Don't be ridiculous. There's no way she can hear us over the other ruckus going on." The second woman picks her head up, only to give a quiet gasp as she sees a woman standing just at the end of her row. The woman smiles down at them, her white teeth obvious. She tucks some stray strands of her auburn hair behind her ear.
"Hello ladies. Are you enjoying your flight?" she asks nicely. The two women glance at each other before smiling back.
"Yes, thank you," the first one closest to the window responds.
"Good. I'm Marcy, by the way. I heard you having some problems with my friend over there. Is there anything you would like me to clear up before we make it to our destination? I would rather not have anyone looking at us with hostility right when we arrive." She smiles kindly at the two. The two glance at each other again, now obviously more nervous.
"Well," the second woman starts, "I had some concerns over the blood and bullet holes littering his shirt."
"Ah yes, those," she responds with a reminiscent look on her heart-shaped face. "He's my bodyguard, you see. He has jumped in front of a bullet for me more times than any other. He has my full trust, which no other bodyguard of mine has ever accomplished. I never go anywhere without him." The first woman looks back at her with admiration, but the second still has her doubts.
"Why do you need a bodyguard in the first place?" she asks. "What kind of business do you do?" At that the auburn haired woman gives a sheepish smile.
"You see, in my business there is always competition. And some of that competition likes to get rid of theirs so they are the only ones people can go to. Now, I don't like to brag but I am proudly the only one in my city, and am expanding my business locations to other cities. This of course causes more competition and more enemies. I have had 2 other bodyguards before him, but he has been with me for 10 years now. I hope that cleared up any doubts you had in his character. I hope you enjoy the rest of your flight." Marcy gives them a friendly nod before heading back to her seat. She carefully maneuvers past her sleeping friend and plops down back into her seat. The second she becomes comfortable, the body next to her drops his head onto her shoulder.
Marcy sighs contently, resting her head against her friend's. The inside of the plane is actually quite roomy, which Marcy greatly appreciates. Flying is no problem so long as it isn't so cramped. Luckily for her 2 of the three seats in front of her have children in their preteens so they aren't tall enough to be seen. Also the lane seat in their row is empty thanks to the intimidating appearance of her favorite friend.
She dares not move her head as she glances over at Keas. His messy red hair smells of cheap shampoo. His head rests upon her shoulder for comfort in his awkwardly slumped position in his seat. His breathing is soft and light; flying has always seemed to make him fall asleep for some reason, although they don't fly often thanks to Marcy's fear. She watches his chest for a bit and finds relief in seeing it move up and down. Although his shirt is now bleach white thanks to a good cleaning, it still has several blood stains that wouldn't come out. She spots the mask he always wears on the left side of his head. She grins, remembering that she had bought him that Ichigo hollow mask as a present for him when they went to ComiCon 2 years ago. He had gone as Kreig while she was Mia from Borderlands 2.
Thinking further back to when they first met, she isn't entirely sure what compelled her to help him. Considering the circumstances, she would have been wiser to leave him behind at the time. However, she wouldn't be where she was today without him. She had been walking slowly back to her home one late afternoon. The sky was cloudy and the smell of rain was in the air. She had just gotten done with a meth deal that had gone south. Her client had begun getting product through someone else for a cheaper price and had this "great idea" to take her out and take her product. Unfortunately for him she never went to deals alone. She had brought muscle with her, but regrettably he had died while letting her escape the building.
Marcy just lost her pursuers a good 20 minutes ago. She unwillingly had to leave her car behind, so now she is walking with a slightly sprained ankle and a bullet wound above her right collarbone. Marcy feels a droplet of water hit her nose. She blinks once before looking up at the dark clouds above. "I should hurry. I don't want to catch a cold, too." With that said she picks up the pace a bit despite the throbbing in her left ankle. After walking another block she hears a loud shout ring out, causing her heart to skip a beat. She knows the scream of someone being killed much too well to think it could be anything else. A chill runs through her at the realization that the location of the yell is in an alley she has to walk by. After thinking of the other routes she could take, she comes to the conclusion that it would take too long to try and go around before it's down pouring cold rain.
With a deep calming breath Marcy pushes on toward the alley. Another yell resounds just before Marcy reaches the opening. Ok Marcy, she tells herself. Just one peak around the corner and then I moves back. However, once she peaks around the corner she can't bring herself to stop staring. Standing above two cops is a man who looks close to her own age. His deep red long hair is caked with dirt and is matted to his neck with sweat. His off-white wife-beater shirt is covered with sweat and blood. Blood leaks out from fresh holes in his shirt, but he doesn't seem to care as he takes heaving breaths. One of the cops – although missing an arm – is still alive. He radios in his location before the tall man yells. With a quick and heavy swing the cop's head is split in half with the redhead's tomahawk.
"Rwaaaah!" he yells out as he yanks the sharp object out of his skull. Dear God, what have I gotten myself into? Slowly and cautiously Marcy steps past the corner. She hopes to possibly creep right by without him noticing as he hacks at the cops' bodies. She really doesn't feel like having her life threatened a second time today. Of course luck was not on her side. She steps on a rock with her left foot, causing her foot to bend at the ankle. Sharp pains shoot straight up her leg. With a yelp Marcy ends up on the pavement of the sidewalk cradling her injured ankle. The light sprinkle of rain thickens as the storm grows nearer.
Marcy's eyes widen as she realizes just where she is. Slowly she lifts her head and gazes at the man. By then his attention is already on her. His breaths still heaving after his ordeal, he begins to slowly make his way towards her. His blue eyes are obviously bloodshot and seem to slightly shake. Fear grips at Marcy. She has no idea what is going through his head. She had run out of bullets during her fight earlier; not that bullets seem to slow him down any based on the obvious bullet wounds. In no time at all he's standing tall over her folded form on the ground. Marcy begins to shake with fear.
In a swift motion he lifts his tomahawk above his head. "Eep!" Marcy lets out as she quickly shuts her eyes and ducks her head. A short time passes before Marcy opens her eyes again. She lifts her head to see the handle of the weapon sticking out from behind his shoulder. Both of his hands are on his knees and he's crouched down in front of her. Pale green and bloodshot blue eyes stare at each other. Marcy notices they aren't shaking like they were before. Why isn't he doing anything? Finally he looks away first and gazes at her hands around her ankle.
"Hurt?" he speaks. She follows his gaze. Why is he concerned about that?
"Ah! Yes. I hurt it earlier and stepping on that rock didn't help," she responds. She moves to stand, but the pain makes it a bit difficult. The man sees this and stands before offering her a hand. She takes it thankfully and offers him a smile once she's up. Just as he goes to smile back, they both hear sirens approaching from the distance. Marcy looks to the two dead cops worriedly. She had forgotten that they were able to get their location through before dying. The man looks around with his tomahawk in his right hand trying to pinpoint where the sounds are coming from. Marcy looks back at the man. He looks like he's ready for another fight already, she worries. If I leave him here he's bound to be killed with how much he's bleeding already. Marcy takes his other hand firmly which quickly catches his attention. "If you don't want to be arrested then you had best come with me." With that she turns toward the way she was headed. Her arm lifts as she moves further from him until she finally feels a tug. Her arm drops a bit as he begins following behind. He intertwines their fingers and Marcy can't help the smile tugging at her lips.
Marcy feels Keas stir in his sleep. A loud yawn escapes as he lifts his head up from her shoulder. "Well good morning sleepy head. Were you comfy?" she asks teasingly. He turns to look at her and grins with his now white teeth. His short red hair is a mess, but he makes no attempt to fix it.
"Yeah," he responds. "Shoulder comfy." Marcy smiles with a small giggle. He reaches over and gives her arm a playful punch. "Next time, you sleep. Be less afraid." Ah yes, now she remembers why she helped him. He's always considerate of her, no matter the circumstances. Back then, he had been concerned about her ankle, despite the fact she had just witnessed him kill 2 people.
Silence falls between the two friends for a while. "Marcy?" Keas speaks up. He was getting really tired of the quiet between them. Usually he's asleep on plane rides so he isn't accustomed to the times that conversations lull.
"Hmm?" she responds. She turns to face him from the magazine she had been reading.
"What we gon' do there?" he asks, pointing up at the intercom. They had just announced a bit ago that they would be arriving in 15 minutes. Marcy grins at him.
"Whatever the hell we want." Her response makes him grin back at her. Honestly I have no clue what we'll be doing. It never even occurred to me that I should look up the map of the island before coming here. Marcy scolds herself internally. All I did was book a hotel room for 2 months.
"So, we can see strippers?" he asks. "And steal cars? And kill? Can we swim? Is there a festival? I always want to go to festival," he continues. "Is there ski-jets? No, no; it's Jet Ski, right? And boats? Will we be selling? Do I get a fight?"
"Whoa, man! Slow down!" Marcy interrupts. "Like I said, big boy; we'll be doing whatever the hell we want. We're coming here for fun, not business. So if you want to see strippers and go to the festival, then that's what we're going to do. What would you like to do first?" Keas bounces in his seat with his hands clasped together.
"Festival! Festival first! Then bikes. I like bikes," he tells her with a child-like cheeky grin. Marcy laughs at the expression. She's only seen him this innocently excited a handful of times. He's gotten excited before, but those times it was for killing someone.
"Sure Keas, we'll go to a festival first." With a big whoop! Keas sits in his chair anxiously.
A short while later they hear the overhead speaker kick on. "Attention ladies and gentlemen," the pilot's voice speaks over the intercom. "Welcome to Los Santos."
Hello! Welcome to the very first fanfic I have ever posted. I've always had great ideas to write about but I have always been nervous to see what people think of them. This is one that I really enjoy and I hope you do, too. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for taking the time to read this.
-Ariel