Geoff Ramsey was not a man known for his punctuality. So, when he didn't show at the safe house at the end of the day, no one really questioned it. Life went on. The Main Crew saw a news report about a shooting at the ice cream parlor and laughed it off, thinking someone was dumb enough to attack Geoff and paid their life.
They weren't entirely wrong. Ryan, the earliest riser in the Crew, and quite possibly the deadliest, was just settling in for a nice breakfast of toast, cereal, and diet coke. Ryan always liked to watch the news in the mornings, especially the crime report, just to see how much he or the Crew had fucked with daily life recently.
It was the one time of day where Ryan got a chance at peace and quiet, no guns, yelling, anything to piss him off. So, he turned on the TV, ready to watch his favorite news program, and settled back with his cereal. "...the victim of the Ice Cream Shooting has been identified," the newscaster announced. Ryan leaned forwards slightly, eager to hear who Geoff offed.
"Crime boss Geoff Ramsey, leader of the infamous Fake AH Crew was shot to death yesterday," one of Geoff's mugshots appeared on the screen, and Ryan dropped his cereal bowl, "by the manager of Nothing But Ducks Ice Cream, in what witnesses describe as a dispute over payment."
"Get in here!" Ryan yelled, throwing his coke can against the wall in an attempt to summon the rest of the Crew. Ryan stared open-mouthed at the TV, trying to comprehend what was just said.
"Jesus fuck, Ryan!" Michael yelled back, his voice muffled through a door. "It's damn early! Shut up!"
"It's about Geoff, you cretin!" Well, that got the Crew up. Jack slammed his door open and ran down the hall, Michael groggily following.
"Really, Ryan?" Jack scolded, gesturing to the spilled milk on the floor and the burst coke can.
"Shut up!" Ryan said, pointing wildly at the TV.
"We have one of the nation's top crime analysts here with us today, Mr. Edgar Boveen," The newscaster said, introducing a clean-cut man in a suit looking far more expensive than any Geoff had ever owned. "Mr. Boveen, how will this affect crime in Achievement City?"
"Well," Mr. Boveen answered, touching his chin thoughtfully, "The Fake AH Crew is notoriously unorganized." Michael flipped off the TV and turned to go back to his room. "With the death of their leader..." Michael whipped back around and froze. Jack sat down hard on the couch. "...I believe that we are in the dying days of gang activity in Achievement City. Adding the knowledge that Ramsey was killed by one of his own men, it's safe to assume that the Crew is falling apart from the inside."
Ryan clicked the power button on the remote and the three sat in silence for a moment, interrupted only by Ryan chucking the remote through the screen.
"He's...He's fucking gone," Michael whispered.
"Who killed him? Who in the hell thought they could get away with something like this?" Jack asked, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles were white.
"Dave," Ryan replied. His face had turned to cold, hard steel. No emotion. No remorse. Ryan was about to snap.
"Dave?" Michael repeated. "Bullshit. He couldn't-"
"He did," Ryan said.
"He started crying when Geoff carved the turkey on Thanksgiving!" Jack recalled, blinking away tears. "Dave's been here since almost the beginning. It doesn't add up."
"We could always ask him what happened," Michael suggested. "And then fucking stab his eyes out and leave him to die."
"I was thinking more slow torture," Ryan said. "Maybe stalk him a few days and then-"
"Why don't we discuss then when everyone is awake and knows the...the situation," Jack said, standing up. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, not wanting to take the day sober anymore.
Michael nodded and walked back down the hall, kicking in the doors of the two bedrooms still occupied. "Get up," Michael announced. "We have shit to do." He dodged an expertly aimed pillow. Michael turned back towards the older two men. They were sitting hunched over on the couch, the couch where Geoff had explained hundreds of heists to them before. The couch where Geoff had spent three days sick after Gavin bet him $20 that he wouldn't drink milk two weeks past the date. The couch where Geoff had called Ryan a pussy for not drinking alcohol, and was doused with diet coke.
The couch Geoff would never see again. Michael shook his head, refusing to cry. It's not like Geoff was the first the Crew had lost. Ray, that nerdy sniper kid, was the first of the Main Crew to die. They never should've let him arm the explosives; he barely knew how to operate a remote trigger! The Crew's own carelessness got Ray killed. They could do nothing but pour out a Capri-Sun for him and swear to never be so stupid again.
But this time, this time there was a singular person at fault. Michael had already vowed revenge, and he was certain that Ryan and Jack had as well.
When Gavin pattered into the room and saw the broken cereal bowl, milk seeping into the carpet, and the other three looking uncharacteristically grim, he immediately knew something was up. "Morning," Gavin said, attempting to lighten the mood, "wonderful day, isn't it?" Jeremy shuffled in behind Gavin, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning.
"Geoff got shot," Ryan stated. Jeremy shrugged, muttering something about waking him up just for that. The Crew was grazed with bullets every other day, and someone got shot in the arm or something at least twice a year. "He's dead."
A silence dropped over the room. "So who are we killing?" Jeremy asked, hopping over the couch to sit down. Gavin leaned over the back, listening intently.
Jack sighed. "Dave."
Gavin burst out laughing. "Wow, you got us! Good joke, good one. Where's the camera?" He smiled widely at the Crew, but dropped it when no one else looked amused. "Oh, you're serious."
"We know where he lives and shit," Jeremy said, "Why don't we just go after the dick?"
"He's probably fled by now, especially if it was an accident. Would you go back to your house if you killed the boss of the most badass crew in the country?" Jack said.
"It wasn't an accident," Michael hissed. "You don't just fucking shoot someone by mistake."
Gavin had pulled out his phone, and was quickly scrolling through it, looking through the police files using a crooked cop's login. "There's already a warrant out for Dave's arrest. He's wanted for questioning, and he's prime suspect in the shooting." Gavin announced. "This was added to the ACPD network 16 hours ago. Dave's got about an 18 hour head start on us."
"He could be halfway across the country by now," Jeremy scowled. Jeremy may have been the newest member of the Main Crew, but the familial bond that connected all of them had quickly reached him. He was just as distraught as the rest of them, but his lack of experience with the Crew made him reluctant to go on a wild goose chase of revenge for just one guy.
"Then we'd better start looking," Jack declared.