Chapter Three: Agitating the V8

28200 Harper Road, Seacrest County

11/23/2017 - 1300 hours

A warehouse off of Harper Road, called Big Dog Snack Distribution. A black Ford Raptor and a white Subaru WRX pull up hot, skidding to a halt inside the warehouse.

A large man stepped out of the Ford Raptor, slamming the door. He had an long white-blonde hair, tied into a bun, and wore a black hoodie and cargo pants, accompanied by black boots. A leather jacket was worn over the hoodie, and around his waist was a thick coil of chains, that hung over his left leg a bit. He held an envelope in his hand, and made his way to the Subaru. Another driver stepped out, looking at the white haired man, before smiling.

"Damn Bruiser… take a hit lately?"

"Piss off.. You got the money?" Bruiser growled. The other man nodded, and handed him an envelope of his own. Bruiser counted it, and set it on top of his own, before the two made their way through the multitudes of vending machines and cardboard box towers in the warehouse, arriving at a small lunch area, where a few other guys were hanging out at. One of them, a tall man with jet black hair, and wearing a white tank top stood, extending his arms. Good ole Jona… the V4, Bruiser thought.

"Hey Bruiser… Jonny… where we at?"

"Twenty five grand. Just enough for Prancer's bail. Plus a little extra to help get his ride out of impound." Bruiser said.

"Ehh, fuck that. I've got the tow yard removing and making his little… addons disappear." Jona said, taking the envelopes and setting them on the table. He grabbed a cigarette box from his pocket, stuck one into his mouth, and lit it. He offered some to Bruiser and Jonny. Bruiser accepted. Jonny didn't.

"I swear, J, no smokin', no weed or anything. How do you expect to fit in if you ever manage to earn your ink? What's the word on the street?"

"Fucking SCPD is coming in hard. Ryder had his Civic towed for illegal exhaust modifications during that last meet. I got two that barely avoided getting rolled by CHP because of that chase Prancer was in." he said, crossing his arms. "It's fucking hard out here man… SCPD's got some good drivers, and it's only a matter of time before we attract the attention of the PIU again." he said. "Fox Lair Pass is locked down… get this shit, they got a fucking Bugatti parked on the cliffside waiting for anyone passing through. It's madness. I mean, my boys are starting to wonder if they'll ever get a chance for their ink trials?"

"In due time, Jonny… have some faith. Setbacks is all it is." Jonas said, reaching up and resting his hands on Jonny's shoulders. "You're not saying that the 5-10's are unreliable, are you?"

"N-No… sir… it's just… Jonas, we're losing our morale, man. I mean, I'm dealin' with a bunch of kids straight out of fucking high school who are trying to make a name for themselves, and they're looking at me like I'm fucking them. Like, I'm gonna get my ink and just bounce."

"Mate, you'll be lucky if you ever get a chance to earn your ink with SCPD bearing down on us. Which brings up another point. How'd the V6 take the news about Prancer?" asked Bruiser.

"Y'know, when I told him… he just kinda hung up. So I'm guessing, not too hot." Jonas said. "So we got some mad work to do so we can impress him and get our shit back together. West Coast 5-10 has not been having a good time and I swear it won't get better until we can manage a good money hit. Now, I've been talking to a guy I know in Tijuana and he's got a major moneymaker on hand if we're interested. He's got a cache of some cocaine from the Viejo cartel that needs moving into the states. I'm thinking, we get a rig, set it up for offroad, and make our own little route to get it in. That Raptor of yours works just well enough as a point car, right?"

"So you wanna take the situation we're currently in, with SCPD and CHP hot on our asses, not to mention the FBI investigating our general activities out East, and do something that could put the fuckin' DEA on our radars? Sounds like a fast plan to get us raided and jailed, square go-like." Bruiser said, shaking his head. Jonas spat and pulled his cigarette from his mouth.

"Well what in the fuck does our great Scot have in mind? Because it sounds like the only thing you wanna decide is which thumb to stick up your ass."

"Watch your fuckin' tone, V4 or not. I'm saying, we need to up our gamblings on local races from the number of kids racing up here. Make medium amounts of cash in numerous places, and not one big hit that could fuck us if we fail."

"Or maybe, we just try our hardest not to fail. I'm sure you wouldn't have trouble with that, despite your little screw up with Prancer." Jonas shot back. Bruiser tossed his cigarette and stepped up to Jonas. Although the V4 was taller then him, he definitely was built bigger, and he glared right into his face.

"Y'know, mate… that sounded alot like you were blaming me for the shit that went down. Like I was supposed to know the cop would just punch it into a spikestrip. You said it yourself, Prancer was a good driver, but it was goddamn luck he got his ink. He had no clue how to regain control after he took that hit." Bruiser said. "Ain't my fault… but more so whoever it was that put him on the recovery."

"Mind your fucking place, McAllister." Jonas said, "Keep in mind it's me that's convincing the V6 to fund your little family's citizenship application. Wouldn't want them and you to get deported back to deal with the lovely mob you bailed from."

Bruiser was ready to swing into Jonas' smug face, but the arrival of a car in the warehouse ended that. They all walked out to the warehouse doors, and spotted a sleek white Chevy Suburban parked inside, two white Hummer H2's behind it. The driver of the Suburban stepped out, wearing a blank tank top and jeans, and had a multitude of tattoos on his body, most noticeably, the 5-10 ink on his neck and a snake curling up and around the left side of his face.

"Ah, the V6. How goes, Brent. Did not expect to see you here today… how was the drive?" Jonas said, sucking up instantly.

"Oh y'know… long, shitty. It's a long way from Brooklyn." replied the SUV's passenger. Judging by Jonas' reaction, it wasn't the V6. The man stepped outside, a red cane hitting the ground. He was wearing a nice white suit, without a shirt. His bare chest was visible under the blazer, and atop his bald head was a fancy and probably expensive trilby. The man grinned, a few gold teeth glinting at them. He had even more tattoos than the driver, and next to his 5-10 ink, was a tattoo that instantly filled them all with dread. Jonas choked on his words, staring out. Bruiser simply swallowed, dropping his cigarette. It definitely wasn't Brent. It was the kingpin of the 5-10 motor club: The V8.

Inside the warehouse's office, the V8 sat down, making himself comfortable, still wearing his sunglasses as if he was blinded by the collective nervousness of the room. Jonas sat down, silent for once in his life. He watched the V8, and opened his mouth like he'd picked an excuse, but only managed to spit out, "So… Brooklyn."

"What about it?" The V8 replied coolly.

"Just… uhh… nothing." Jonas said, falling silent again. The V8 looked around, and started laughing. "Damn… y'know, I stopped to check on the Vegas crew, and they were about ten times as talkative as you guys. But… then again, they weren't trying to fix a little fuck up, now were they."

"Kingpin… look…" Jonas started, but he was quickly silenced by the V8, who held his hand up.

"Shhh. I'll get to the business in a minute. First off though… you." he said, pointing at Jonny, who perked up.
"Yes sir?" Jonny asked, his heart beating fast.

"Where's your ink at, son?"

"I haven't earned it yet." Jonny replied. His heart skipped a beat… was this his chance to earn it?

"Do me a quick favor and fuck off a moment, yeah?" The V8 said. Jonny looked dumbfounded, not budging for a second, but quickly moved out when one of the kingpin's guards stepped forward. Kingpin smiled at him as he left, before clearing his throat a moment after.

"So, what happened?"

"Well… we hit an HCM warehouse off the 6, and wasn't anticipating a guard to see us. New guy, not on the payroll… he called it in and we had SCPD jump on it. Bruiser and Prancer went back for the loot but…" Jonas started.

"Cars?"

"A Focus RS, and an F-150 Raptor. The Focus is in a CHP impound yard, but I got guys working on stripping the strip dropper and EMP off it."

"Didn't ask, but fine. So… Bruiser is… you, I'm assuming… that your truck outside?" Kingpin said, looking at Bruiser.

"Aye, sir. That's mine."

"Pretty impressive setup you got. Bullbars, armor panels… were those breakaways I saw on the quarter panels?" Kingpin asked.

"So that a pit maneuver attempt would cause the cop to lose control." Bruiser said. A drop of sweat appeared on his forehead, running down the right side of his face.

"You're the V2 here, right?"

"Aye, sir… I am."

"Aight. So why didn't you come in and back up Prancer?"

"I'm sorry, Kingpin… I had my mask off, I was ahead of him, and I knew that if I went back I'd be cornered when the SCPD caught up."

"...understood. So you left your boy behind and went for cover…"

"I told him to keep close to Prancer and keep his ass covered." Jonas jumped in, but he was cut off as one of Kingpin's men slammed his face into the table. Jonas recoiled, cursing in pain, and guarding his now bleeding nose. "...the fuck, man?!"

"Don't ever fuckin' interrupt me again, Jonas. Now, where was I? Oh yeah… you left your boy behind… in turn making sure that it was only one ink in custody, and not accompanied by a V2 or his modified truck. And if you had intervened, I doubt you'd be able to escape if you would've had to stop and rescue him… which would've earned you an assault against an officer charge." Kingpin said, nodding. "You mean to tell me that a Focus RS was lacking and stayed behind a six ton Raptor? Jonas, what the fuck?"

"Prancer wanted to drop a strip to try an immobilize the dude chasing him."

"Was it PIU?"

"No… some dick in a crown vic." Jonas said. Kingpin narrowed his eyes, and snapped his fingers. The guy who slammed Jonas cocked his arm back and socked him in the cheek, sending the V4 falling off his chair and onto the floor. The other members tensed, and Bruiser's eyes widened. Kingpin, however, just grinned at him, a gesture that both intimidated yet calmed him. He then turned his gaze to Jonas and chuckled. "So, you wasted a fucking strip on some regular patrol cop? If it'd been a fucking PIU sergeant in a Bugatti, I'd be a little more understanding. But some regular joe? Those fuckin' things are five grand a pop RETAIL value. We gotta pay double that for some to 'fall off' a truck and end up in our hands. Where the fuck is Prancer now?"

"SCPD Central Holding. We got 25 grand set up to bail him out."

"What does he know?"

"Not much… Kingpin, his ink's still fresh. He barely knows about our warehouses."

"Fuck him then. I'm callin' some guys, we'll have him go through the process and I'll make sure he keeps quiet if he ever wants to get out. Bruiser…" Kingpin turned his attention away from Jonas.

"Aye?"

"The money's yours. Get your shit fixed, get yourself some nice things for your family… and keep that truck off the highway for the time being. I'll get you a Dodge RAM for anything highway related. You should be fine on the streets though. I need intel on the SCPD, and anyone that might've been involved on that chase."

"There was one guy who crashed… CHP." Jonas sputtered, wiping blood from his mouth as he reclaimed his seat. "I can get his name and see if we can ID his deployment schedule."

"Don't fuck that up, Jonas. I'm already hurting from this little shitshow you brought me into. I'm heading back out to San Bernardino. We're taking a charter flight back to New York. Once I get there, I better hear a fuckin' successful operation. Now, what's this bullshit I picked up about a big rig from the V6?"

"We were… gonna roll a rig down to Tijuana to bring some shit into the US… Big money." Jonas said. Bruiser ground his teeth in annoyance.

"Uhh, no. Last thing we need right now is a fucking DEA investigation. If you're smuggling it stays domestic. West coast to east coast. I actually might have an op for you if you're willing to try it. I'll shoot you the details. Change out your burners and gather your street racers. Have them run some interference so that the cops are busy dealing with them. Put some money on 'em too. Best case scenario, you start earning some cash back. Worst case, SCPD's gonna have their hands tied dealing with anyone taking part in a car meet."

"Gotcha… I actually think Jonny's crew is meeting by the school. I'll head over there and see if they can run a meet tonight."

"Good boy. And let's test the loyalty of this kid. I need some more ink bearers in this county. I have a feeling it's gonna get real busy this winter. Now, get it done." he said, standing up. He walked over to Jonas, and chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Do… not… fail… me." he said slowly, before grabbing his cane and walking out. Bruiser stood, glancing over at his bleeding V4, before heading out himself.

Mission Beach High School

11/23/2017 - 14:32:14

There was a small gathering of cars in the parking lot of the high school, most of them Honda Civics or Accords. There were a few Subarus and an older Ford Ranger there, and many of the guys around it were either vaping or smoking weed inside their cars. A few people were skateboarding, and they all were talking about what sort of modification they could put on their cars. Jonny's Subaru pulled in and parked among the cars, and he stepped out, looking nervous.

"Hey Jonny, you get your ink at this super important meeting?" laughed one of the skaters.

"Shut up, Grant." he said, getting out of his car. He closed it, and glanced at the driveway to the school's parking lot. Grant raised a brow and followed his gaze. "You expecting something?"

"Probably thought he was being tailed." said a guy sitting in the bed of the Ranger. He was a tall, gangly kid with large glasses. He jumped off the bed and spat, inhaling from his vape and blowing it out.

"Ryder? Thought you were booked." Jonny said.

"I was… dad bailed me out. Lost my fucking ride though. Dude, this is bullshit. The damn cops are cracking down with all the people on the road for Thanksgiving. When are we getting a chance to really make some cash?"

"Soon, man. Soon." Jonny said, reaching into his car and grabbing a cluster of envelopes. He began to hand them out "Here's our cut for the dealing profits… and the winnings to those who rolled on the Fox Lair race."

Ryder grabbed his, and opened it. He pulled out his cash, and looked up. "Two fucking hundred?! Dude, I lost my car in that race… I gotta hit court now!" he said angrily. A few other voices rose up, complaining about their money.

"Guys, chill! I don't decide how much the 5-10 cuts out. We got some serious issues and it's hard enough with them bearing on me." he said.

"Dude you're full of shit. You can't pay us but I saw that nice lift you put on your WRX. Where's our money really going?" Ryder growled, stepping closer. "We're tired of doing this shit to impress your fake friends. I've never even seen you meet with these guys… always in secret."

"I said chill, man. It's all gonna work itself out soon… trust me.." he said. As if on cue, an engine roared down the road. The group turned to look for it's source, and Jonny cracked a grin as Bruiser's Raptor growled into the parking lot. It pulled up to the group of cars, before it's engine shut off. Bruiser stepped out, his hair down, and looked up at the others. Ryder cocked a brow, looking him over. "Who're you? Hey, someone call Gandalf, he's missing one of his elves."

Bruiser chuckled, joining the laughter of the others, before swinging and smashing his fist into the side of Ryder's face, sending him reeling and falling to the ground. He reached up, and unzipped his hoodie. The others might have started fighting back, but they were preoccupied by the sight of his 5-10 ink and the large ink of a V2 on his chest. The all stopped, glaring at him.

"What's up?" he said loudly, stepping over Ryder. "Step one towards earnin' your ink. Don't fucking act like some high school class clown when a V2 rolls up on you." he said, jerking a thumb towards the Cobra mark on his truck. "My name is Bruiser. At least, it is as far as you kids are concerned. If you learn my real name, it either means you're earning your ink, or your snoopin' in shite that'll get you knocked out." he said. Ryder stood up, holding his face, his cracked glasses in his hands. Bruiser pointed at him, "You are already about negative five points towards your ink, so shut your gob and maybe you'll get a chance to redeem it." he said. "The 5-10 is hosting a trial race for rookies like you to prove you might have what it takes to roll with us. Race is gonna start right here in Mission Beach, by the pier, and roll all the way through to to Three Points. The top three will get a chance to race in an actual 5-10 event, and get your name out there for a chance to earn your ink. That, and 1, 5, and 10k if you make third, second or first." he said. The others glared back in surprise. That was a good chunk of money for one race. "If you got a car in impound, talk to Jonny, and we'll cover the expense for its release and prep for the race. It'll be next Saturday… so make your shit ready by then. SCPD will be out, so… keep an eye and try not to get busted till then. We'll also be accepting bets on the day of the race, so bring your allowances, kids." he said, patting Jonny on the shoulder and making his way back to his truck. The message was out… now it was just time for the others to bite.