"Chapter 14-The Commute"
Monday, 9:30 AM, 1115 Boulevard Del Perro
A week has passed since the first mission Thomas performed on behalf of Trevor. Since then, Thomas and the gang have been performing numerous missions for Lamar, Simeon, Trevor and Gerald. There were news reports such gas tankers being stolen on the GOH and Little Seoul; Vagos being killed in La Mesa and Rancho, reducing their numbers; Expensive cars being repo'd from the hands of rich entrepreneurs and young playboys; And The Lost MC being strung out due to recent events of Crystal Meth being stolen from them.
It is Sunday morning in Los Santos, where traffic is less active than usual, nine-to-five workers are driving to their jobs with the daily commute, hipsters and non-hipsters walking the streets of LS either taking photos of people's car without their permission, window shopping nearby your nearest clothing store or stopping for a moment to smoke tobacco or marijuana, your pick. In the midst of it all, Thomas is still sound asleep in his Del Perro apartment, recalling his final flashback into his upsetting past in Baghlan.
"Baghlan: Part 4"
It seemed that time slowed down for Thomas as he and the others started to fire at two four-man squads of IFA fighters in front of the entrance of a mud house once the blast from the explosives was starting to clear. The courtyard that the team was raiding happened to be an abandoned residence of a wealthy, extended family in Baghlan. However, when the battle had started between Merryweather and the Islamic Front of Afghanistan, IFA fighters had stormed into the courtyard and killed all of the people who lived there. Once that was done, they started using the place as a base of operations.
The platoon moved from the entrance of the courtyard, went through a passageway to an open space filled with various items and vehicles such as wooden crates, ammunition boxes and two supply trucks. To their far right was one of the smaller buildings. At the end of the area is one of the alleged buildings where Faheem was being held. The supply trucks were parked in the middle of the space between Thomas' platoon and the building. Everyone then ran towards a set of crates nearby one of the supply trucks. Shawn noticed a small, one-story house with a balcony capable of being a "nest" for a sniper.
"Hey, Blackwater, Wilbur and I are going to the house nearby to pick off a couple of tangos. We'll need some covering fire if we're going to need some distraction." Shawn said to Thomas in a whisper.
Thomas gave a thumbs up to Shawn, who then signaled Paul to head inside the house with him and cover the others.
"Everyone, lay down some covering fire at the men at the second floor of the building not too far from us." Thomas commanded.
Just as Thomas finished saying his command, the other soldiers started firing with their M4's at the fighters on the second floor windows. As Shawn was occupied sniping off some targets, Paul looked on with an alert look on his face as he spotted a large group of ten plus hostiles coming out of a passage nearby the building at the end of the courtyard area they were in.
"Blackwater, watch your twelve o'clock! 10 or more hostiles moving in towards your position and the others." Shawn warned to Thomas.
"Shit! Everyone move to where the ammo crates and supply truck are." Thomas said, pointing towards the place to seek cover.
Thomas and the others who were with him moved to the ammo crates for cover. The hostiles started to fire at their position, pinning them down. Thomas and the others, on the other hand, blindly fired at the hostiles, only killing about six of the hostiles sent after them while both Shawn and Paul sniped off the rest. As Paul sniped off the last of the hostiles, he froze with wide eyes as he paid attention to five IFA fighters wearing black clothing with wrapped black scarves around their heads, kneeling down on the rooftop of the building at the end of the area, with one in the middle carrying an RPG, ready to unleash havoc on everyone on the ground. Meanwhile, a team of seven started to rush through the passage and head towards the rest of the ground team.
"Get out of there, one of them is carrying an RPG!" Paul warned over the comlink to the ground team.
"Orville, we're fuckin' pinned down over here. We have seven of em' storming nearby our position!" Thomas said as he fired rounds into the abdomen of an IFA fighter carrying an AK-47, his body falling to the ground, leaking out blood.
"Screw that, you got a guy on the damn rooftop with a RPG, ready to aim this moment and you guys are nearby a supply truck. That's a recipe for disaster right there!" Paul argued.
"Damn it! Alright, everyone move this instant right now. We got an RPG user on the rooftop and he's ready to shoot this… OH SHIT, Run!" Thomas shouted at the top of his lungs as he and the others saw the rocket being fired from the rooftop.
Thomas and Marshall sprinted quickly towards the former hiding spot they once were, at the same time dodging gunfire from enemy forces. The remainder of the ground team ran too late as they were being overrun by enemy forces. Death's hands already had claimed the lives of Han, Jermaine, Deshawn and Ricardo as they had noticed too late about the rocket landing between their position and the supply truck, which went off in a loud bang, taking them out in the process.
"AHHH! You motherfuckers, how dare you?!" Thomas shouted in fury. He then reloaded his M4 Carbine Rifle with an extended clip and fired at the man with the RPG, bursting eight rounds into the man's abdomen, causing him to fall from the rooftop as he screamed to his death.
"Come on, kill me why don't you? I'll bury you fucks in the damn dirt!" Thomas said in furious, flashing anger. He then proceeded to eliminate the men on the rooftop, aiming at them one by one. Marshall eliminated the rest of the reinforcements by throwing a flashbang; while blinded by the flash, Marshall fired at them all execution style.
Shawn and Paul exited out of the house they were in and noticed the bloodied and damaged bodies of Han, Ricardo, Deshawn and Jermaine with Thomas kneeling on the ground weeping as Marshall sat down, with a downcast expression on his face. They both looked at each other knowing full well of what just occurred.
"It's my damn fucking fault. If I had told them not to move over there, they would be alive right now, not looking like this!" Thomas said in a mournful and regretful tone.
"Thomas, you didn't know what would eventually happen. Not one single person out of all of us saw that shit coming. No one has a third eye in this world. Look, you shouldn't blame yourself for this at all." Paul replied.
"We'll have to report this to Merryweather Command. I don't know what they'll do with their payroll, but one thing's for sure is that we have a search and rescue to complete. We're going to make them pay for this." Shawn noted.
Thomas was still weeping until Marshall grabbed him by the shoulders with a stern look. "Hey, look at me, Blackwater. I know you're saddened by all of this. Believe me when I say that my heart is shedding tears of sadness despite it may not seem like it. Look, those guys wouldn't want us to be weeping over them till kingdom come, so please gather yourself together!"
Thomas wiped the tears off his cheeks and took a moment to gather his composure given the priority of the mission. "Sure, grieving will have to wait for now. Gather any ammo you can, then move out. Wilbur, update Command about the recent incident." Thomas ordered, his expression being worn out, weary and tired.
In his mind, Thomas was condemning himself for not being able to save the others' lives and wasn't feeling too confident about the mission now that they've lost half of their team. On the other hand, he wanted to avenge their deaths by killing the rest of them, feeling that no one single IFA fighter should live while having taken the lives of his men. Not wanting to wallow in grief for too long as he knew it would have to wait for a later time, he gathered some ammo for his M4, pump-action shotgun and stocked up about four grenades and flash bangs.
"Search for Faheem, top to bottom. Leave no room unchecked in that building. We can't afford to lose him to those pricks or else they'll take him away or might even kill him." Thomas said to the rest of the fireteam. They entered the first floor of the building, intending to check any room where Faheem was being kept. Thomas walked towards the hallway to his left, made a left turn and found two rooms to his right, both of which were empty and contained no sight of Faheem. As for the others, they checked the remaining rooms and found no sign of Faheem.
"He's not in any of the rooms here. Let's check second floor." Thomas said.
"Aye, Captain." Shawn said with an imitation of a pirate's voice. They then moved upstairs to the second floor which led to another hallway. The fireteam made their way upstairs and moved towards the middle of the passage to enter the living room which contained furniture, a TV set and various items. All of them were against the walls next to the door, ready to check who was inside.
"Wilbur, get the door." Thomas commanded. Paul did as Thomas said and kicked down the door. His action alerted about five IFA fighters as Thomas, Marshall and Shawn rushed in and fired at them all before they could pull their triggers. They check around the surroundings of the room, but found no sign of Faheem. "Check the other rooms, watch out for any hostiles." Thomas ordered. The rest of the team then went to search around the other rooms for Faheem. Unfortunately, they couldn't find Faheem in any of the rooms, save for two hostiles Shawn and Paul came across while checking the last room. Thomas was getting worried about the progress of the mission. First off, he had just lost half of his platoon to a gruesome death. Now, he and the others had not yet found their contact in the building they were in.
"Damn it! No sign of Faheem so far. I do not like this crap. Let's pray we find this guy or else we'll find a dead corpse in this building." Marshall said with frustration in his voice. Paul agreed with Marshall's motion. "Well, we'd better get on the move then." Paul stated. The fireteam then went upstairs to the third floor with Marshall in front of them. Once Marshall made it to the top of the stairs, he made a turn towards the hallway until he felt a sharp pain in his stomach as he noticed a dagger being stuck in him at the hands of an IFA fighter wearing a tight black mask and uniform around his face. He then pushed Marshall towards the wall as his body slid down against it. Thomas then fired his SNS pistol at the head of the man who stabbed Marshall, firing at his head, causing some blood and brain matter to splatter across the wall next to him then collapsed with blood leaking out.
He then heard voices that were coming from the other end of the passage, supposedly scouting for their fallen comrade. Thomas moved up towards a wall for cover and peeked towards the hallway where he spotted two men dressed in black mask and uniforms walking towards his position. Quickly loading his ammo, he cocked his shotgun and blindly fired at the men three times, falling to the ground as blood leaked out of their abdomens and thighs. Thomas quickly moved back to Marshall's position to check on his current condition.
"Ah bollocks, that wanker did give me a good stab there… Not feeling so well right now." Marshall said weakly as he coughed up blood.
"Here, let me pull out the dagger for you. This will hurt like a son-of-a-bitch though." Thomas said. Marshall nodded as Thomas put his right hand on the dagger where Marshall was stabbed and pulled it out slowly while Marshall screamed in pain.
"Wait, do we have any meds at all?" Thomas asked. Shawn bowed his head down in despair. "The only medic on our platoon was Han. If he were alive right now…" Shawn answered with a depressed sigh. "Shit!" Thomas said as he punched the wall with his fist in frustration. He now thought the mission had taken a turn for the worst now that one of their teammates was bleeding out without medical attention and they still haven't found Faheem. "Damn it! First the shotgun blast, now this crap! Guys, I don't think time is on my side. Let's hope we can get out of here on time." Marshall lamented.
"Orville, you stay here with Rascal to keep him company. Do whatever you can to treat him. Wilbur, you're coming with me to find Faheem. We'll be damned if we don't find him soon." Thomas ordered. Shawn nodded. "What a wonderful date I'm having with you." Shawn said to Marshall.
"Fuck off, mate. I'm not enjoying the pain of it all." Marshall said, scoffing off Shawn's remark. Thomas and Paul moved towards the first room to their right and hid nearby the door. Paul then charged towards the door, bursting through alongside Thomas as they opened fire on five hostiles. Both of them combat-rolled behind an amber couch seeking for protection. Thomas then blindfired his rounds across the room and only hit a thick-haired, long-bearded hostile in the abdomen about ten times. Paul popped out of cover shooting at another one hiding behind the wall next to the kitchen. He fired rounds at the man's right shoulder, tearing through his tendons and muscles, causing him to grasp his shoulder and bleed out in pain. He quickly turned his attention to a 5'6 scarf-masked man whohe immediately shot with his pump shotgun, taking shells around his neck and head, making his death painful as he bled out on the now blood-soaked floor. Paul and Thomas took cover once more as the remaining two hostiles were still shooting by firing blind.
"Wilbur, I'm throwing a flashbang across the room." Thomas said. Wilbur responded "Blind those douchebags." Thomas held it for a few moments then threw the grenade over to their side, blinding them as they complained about their loss of sight. With that window open, Thomas and Paul then opened fire at the remaining two insurgents, firing at their abdomens, penetrating some vital organs such as the intestines and stomach, falling down to the floor with their blood leaking out. Thomas and Paul then heard a voice shouting in Arabic and sounded like he was pleading for mercy, so they went towards a room that had a dim light on. Thomas and Paul then knocked down the door and noticed four insurgents surrounding a bearded, thick-haired, beaten and bloodied man in his late 40's tied up on a wooden chair.
"That must be Faheem!" Thomas thought in his mind. He then aimed for the man who was about to shoot Faheem in his head with a SNS pistol. He pulled the trigger, aiming for the man's neck. The bullets went below his Adam's apple, exiting out the back of hit; the assailant shouted in pain, staggered back and fell to the ground, gasping for air, but choked on his blood. Thomas then turned his sights on the next hostile nearby the deceased man he just killed and fired at his lower torso multiple times, dropping to his knees and lying down on the dirty ground.
With all hostiles taken care of, Thomas approached Faheem and loosened the man's ropes around his hands and feet, along with removing the white blindfold around his head. Faheem stood up, barely able to walk on his own, having Thomas and Paul catches him as he almost fell down to the ground. They then walked back towards where Marshall and Shawn were
"It was horrible; they treated me like I was a poor slave! They whipped, punched and beat me day and night. Thank Allah he gave me strength. I pray to God those IFA devils shall be punished for what they did!" Faheem said in a pained voice.
"Damn, just be glad that we saved you. Matter of fact, we're hella happy you're still alive and kickin'. Half-dead, even!" Paul noted. Thomas sighed, just glad Faheem was still conscious. "Cut it, Wilbur. We have to call in evac to get the hell out of here. Remember, we have a mortally wounded operative on our hands who has no medical attention." Thomas said.
"Alright, Command this is Fireteam Charlie. We have Faheem in our hands." Wilbur reported.
"Good, Charlie. Nearest helicopter should be coming within seven minutes. We're sending you the GPS route to the nearest rendezvous point."The voice over the comlink said.
"By the way, bring a small crew of medics. We're going to need one, along with some body bags. Alright, they're coming soon. We just have to leave the courtyard right now." Paul confirmed. Thomas and Shawn were busy helping Marshall to stand up due to his wounded state. "First, let's gather the rest of our fellow operatives' bodies. Orville, go and find any means of transportation so we can leave this damned place." Thomas said. It didn't take long for Shawn to complete Thomas' request for finding a vehicle as he found a white Vapid Guardian around the back of the building. After a five-minute drive from the courtyard to the rendezvous point, which was at the outskirts of the city since the helicopter was going to fly all the way back to Flying Eagle, the same base Thomas, Marshall, Shawn and Paul reside. They got out of the vehicle, rushing to the chopper to treat Marshall and Faheem quickly and went on the way back to Flying Eagle.
An African-American medic approached Shawn, Paul and Thomas. "The three of you better come quick to his side. We've done all that we can, but I'm afraid he doesn't have much time on his side. The wounds he received are very fatal and that stab wound went pretty deep into his stomach, so that made his chances of survival lower than it already was. I'd suggest saying some final words to him right now." The nurse informed them solemnly. Thomas and the others thought he just felt his entire body go numb when the medic finished his sentence. The three of them then went over to Marshall's side, ready to say their final goodbyes.
"Shawn, Paul. Remember when we were at the base arguing about my position on the Middle East?" Marshall weakly stated. Both of the brothers nodded with weak, saddened smiles on their faces.
"Well, I did some soul searching within myself and I thought that not all Arabs are evil. I mean look at Faheem. The guy got treated miserably by those IFA bastards like he lived in the home of a damn slave owner. Seeing him in that condition made me reflect back on my prejudice towards the Arabic people. So before I reach Heaven's gates, I'd like to say I'm sorry. This is practically my way of making amends before I go." Marshall said.
"We forgive you, Marsh. It's been nice fighting by you. We'll see you on the other side, old friend." Shawn said in between sniffles of tears. "Thank you, Marsh. We'll remember you, at least we got to say goodbye to one of our own." Paul said. Thomas moved to Marshall's side next
"So this is how it ends, huh? We did our job, but lost some good men." Thomas lamented with tears in his eyes.
"Don't be a wimp, Tommy Boy. Look, I knew from the moment I got hit by that shotgun blast that there would be a fifty-fifty chance I'd survive. However, the stab wound seems to speak for itself on that situation." Marshall grimly noted.
"And I can see your sense of humor is still intact." Thomas noted. Marshall laughed in reaction to Thomas' comment before continuing where he left off. "Look, Thomas. I understand your pain about what went down over there. I'm already dying right now, so I beg of you and the others this one thing. Please keep living your lives, don't throw in the gutter! Just… do that to honor me… and the others…"Marshall said before he gave up the ghost, the heart monitor went off, making a whining sound. A nurse then covered Marshall's body over a white sheet as Thomas, Shawn and Paul bowed their heads in grief and sadness over losing Marshall, now another victim of the operation they had risked their lives to give.
"If this is what it's like to lose someone that's worked with you time and time again, then I don't want this at all. This isn't what I wanted at all. I can't continue this anymore…" Thomas thought to himself, unable to cope with the loss of losing a majority of his team. The rest of the trip was spent in mourning until they landed at the base an hour later.
(flashback ends)
11:30 AM, 1115 Boulevard Del Perro
Two hours later, Thomas woke up from the flashback-like dream he had just experienced for the past two hours. He then thought back to the request Marshall made before he had passed away two years ago.
"Please keep living your lives, don't throw it away in the gutter!" The words echoed in Thomas' head, thinking that he heard Marshall's rough, English voice for a moment in the air.
"Have I truly moved on from it all? It's been two years and still no change… I'm sorry Marsh, I guess I haven't lived up to your promise." Thomas reflected in his mind. Within the walls of his mind, Thomas knew he came down here to start anew, but questioned if he had accepted what had occurred in Baghlan. After what happened in Baghlan, Thomas, Shawn and Paul resigned from Merryweather Security a week after, unable to continue to serve the private military group after the Baghlan incident. He reflected on what happened to Shawn and Paul since they went on their separate ways. As far as his memory served him correctly, both the brothers wound up in a mental hospital suffering from severe PTSD a few weeks after the search and rescue mission in Baghlan.
While Thomas had resigned the day after the incident due to symptoms of PTSD and remembering flashbacks, Shawn and Paul still fought for Merryweather, hoping to continue fighting in the memory of their fallen comrades. Unfortunately, they were survivors of a helicopter crash caused by IFA insurgents and were tortured by them for two days until a fireteam of U.S Marines rescued them. However, the extent of their torture was so severe, that the both of them were kept in a mental hospital until they were fit to be welcome back into American society.
Thomas suddenly remembered about the therapy session he had with Dr. Friedlander. He recalled the way he reacted towards him over the dispute about the payment he had to make towards Friedlander. Reflecting back on the event when he shouted at Friedlander for the amount of money he himself had to pay in order to continue the session, he realized in his own embarrassment on how irrational he acted towards Friedlander. He had to admit, being angry towards your own shrink for a payment of 2,500 dollars sounds kind of petty once you look back and realize how much of an asshole you'd look. To make amends, Thomas decided to call Dr. Friendlander to apologize.
Thomas pulled out his phone and dialed down the doctor's number on his iFruit phone and pressed the call option on it. He waited for a few moments until it went to voicemail. Thomas then made a sigh as he was about to leave a message for Dr. Friedlander.
"Hey, Dr. Friedlander. It's me, Thomas. The guy who berated you for that payment I had to make for the both of us to continue our session? I'm calling to apologize for my behavior last time during our first session. It was irrational, stupid and pretty petty of me. I'm willing to rejoin you on working with me through my therapy session, maybe tomorrow on some other day. Thanks for listening, peace out." Thomas said before ending the voicemail call.
Thomas then went to his bathroom, suddenly remembering the fact that it was late in the morning and had forgotten to shower. Fifteen minutes pass by and he changed into one of his most casual setups: a white hoodie with a grey shirt that has the words "Cerveza Barracho", named for the Beer Company, khaki cargo pants, orange and blue sports shoes and black sunglasses, courtesy of the brand company known as Stank.
Feeling the need to clear his mind after the flashback he had, Thomas decided to go out for a drive. So he went down to his garage and entered his Bravado Gauntlet. However to his misfortune, Thomas noticed the car's fuel tank being on low as the symbol flashed on his dashboard. Due to this impediment, he went out to the gas station off the intersection between the Del Perro Highway and West Eclipse Boulevard.
Seven Minutes Later…
Thomas rolled into the gas station and parked next to an empty gas pump at the far left of the filling station row. He got out of the car and started to fill his car's gas tank like any average civilian in this city would do. Thomas suddenly felt the urge to smoke, so he pulled out his lighter and Redwood cigarette box out of his pocket and was about to light up until he saw a young, Native American male in his early twenties drive into the gas station in a modified, royal blue Tornado, the rear top on and windows rolled down, blasting the song "Low Rider" by War while parking the Tornado next to Thomas.
"Hey, mi compadre, is that your Gauntlet right there? I've heard about these babies before. Pretty good on speed, but bad on the spins. Confident that my Tornado can wipe the streets against your Gauntlet. I can certainly guarantee it!" The man said in a strong Mexican accent. Thomas lit up his cigarette and inhaled some of the smoke before blowing it out of his lungs. "Hey man, don't get too cocky with your words. Those Tornados suck huge balls like a bitch. The only thing it's good for is speed, looking like an 80's car and that's it. Shit doesn't work well when riding uphill. Go back to living in your fantasy world!" Thomas bragged to the man.
"Oh, so you feel that way, huh amigo? Alright then, let's have a race to prove who has the fastest whip between the both of us. Winner get $7,500 dollars, loser get $5,400 dollars. Small amount for a two-person race, but fair don't you think?" The young man inquired. "I'll have to call up a good friend of mine who hasn't heard from me for a long time. We'll do it on the highway nearby all the way to the bridge that connects to the Elysian Fields Highway. Meet nearby the parking spot at 10:30 PM sharp." The young, man informed Thomas.
"That's it, you're definitely on! Make sure that your bank account is loaded with greenbacks by the time I win that race. By the way, what's your name?" Thomas inquired. The man replied back as he got back into his Tornado, "Francisco Moreno, but I also go by Pancho. What's yours, amigo?" The young man said. "The name's Thomas Marston." Thomas answered. Pancho shook hands with Thomas. "Alright then, Thomas. Can't wait for you to inhale the smoke from my screeching tires." After the trash talk exchange, both of them left the gas station in their cars, eagerly antipating what was to come.
"This is going to be quite interesting. Wait a minute… I should go to Los Santos Customs for my ride!" Thomas thought to himself as he drove back to his Del Perro apartment. He immediately changed his GPS route to the nearest repair/mod shop in the city as he arrived at a stoplight. Meanwhile, Pancho was driving back to his home in Pancho and called up Han, the mechanic who ran the Los Santos Customs shop nearby the airport who garnered a reputation in the streets of Los Santos of fixing and modifying cars as well as arranging street races, races that were labeled as illegal in the United States.
"Hao! My favorite mechanic in Los Santos! It's been a hell of a long time!" Francisco asked. "Pancho! What a surprise! It's been two years since I last heard from you. What the hell happened?" Han inquired of Francisco.
Francisco made a scoff over the phone before he answered. "Hey dude, I'm currently under parole right now for car theft. I was performing a task for a shady boss of mine named Simeon, stole a silver Jackal from one of those Vinewood directors, who supposedly owed debt to Simeon. Got chased by cops until a cop car rammed into me from the side; causing me to crash into a ditch. So I got booked for two years. Now, I got the pigs keeping watch over me so that way I don't fuck up or else I'll be sent back to Bolingbrook, dealing with rapists and fuckin' molesters."
"Goddamn… Shit, two years for that?! I've known Korean gang members who've done more time for smuggling cars into different countries! Never mind that, what's the call for? Lay it down on me." Hao said.
"Well, I've got a puto who talked some smack about my Tornado, so I was wondering if you could arrange a 10PM race between me and this guy. I pray the cops don't get involved. You know how many people have been arrested and convicted for street racing? No way in hell I'm going back!" Francisco said. "Well, to that end, I had to pay off the cops not to get involved in this. You know how greedy the blue pigs are in this city. Anyway, I'll arrange the race for y'all." Han replied.
"Well, this is Los Santos, the city of saints and diablos. But thanks Han, I owe you one." Francisco said as he dropped the call. Pancho then drove into his garage next to his house and exited himself out of his Tornado. He made a smirk as he looked on at the tool shed, ready to fix up his car. "Alright, Marston. Within a couple hours, you'll see who's got the faster car…"
10:00 PM, Parking lot off Interstate 2/Del Perro Freeway
The nighttime in Los Santos usually meant a couple things if someone happens to be a resident in the city, People were either enjoying their lives in some random nightclub getting wasted or faded from alcohol or drugs; Some men were out on the streets within their cars waiting for the nearest prostitute to employ her "services", only to either get killed her client or be videotaped with her client by some random pedestrian, ready to unleash yet another sexual act on the internet; And traffic would usually be less congested than during the daytime since there were less people trying to get to their jobs. This would also give street racers a chance to avoid cops since most were active during the daytime, but others would still patrol the streets and highway in case of any criminal activity.
This was one of those cases. Thomas drove up into the parking lot nearby the beach and off the Del Perro Freeway aka Interstate 2 with his newly-modified Bravado Gauntlet. He had the mechanic install race brakes, a Class 3 Engine, a new transmission, had the car's suspension lowered a bit and installed nitrous into his muscle car. He parked his car nearby the entrance of the parking lot next to Francisco's Tornado. He got out of the car as he walked over Francisco, who was standing next to the passenger side of his car smoking a cigarette.
"Hey! Hey! Thomas, so are you to settle this once and for all?" Francisco asked him as he gave Thomas a handshake. "I've prepared myself for this occasion. I've gotten my car modified for this occasion and in case if I get into any trouble with the law." Thomas said to Francisco. "Funny enough cause' I did the same thing to my Tornado, personally modified it out. Wait a minute… Hao's here!" Francisco noted as he saw Hao's modified orange and black Maibatsu Penumbra drive up in front of them. Hao exited out of his car wearing his usual attire of a black tanktop alongside an Asian-American girl in her early-twenties sporting bangs, wearing a white midriff with torn jean shorts and brown boots.
Hao approached Francisco as they both hugged each other, then turned to Thomas as they both grasped hands. "So this is the guy you're challenging? You seem to be a cool dude, not like how Pancho here described you. What's your name, man?" Thomas answered with a smile, "Oh really? Well, I guess his ass was wrong about me. The name's Thomas Marston, and you must be Hao." Hao nodded his head in return and responded back, "Yes, indeed. This beautiful dime next to me is Wendy; she'll be the one who will give the signal to start the race." Wendy made a blushing gesture towards Hao and giggled a bit. "Aww, Hao. No need to be so modest. I'm only here to give em' the go and look good while doing it. By the way, you still need to fix my Futo like you promised. I need it for a job interview for LifeInvader tomorrow." Hao patted her shoulder as a sign of comfort. "Sure. Sure, Wendy. I will just as soon these two guys right here get the adrenaline and dopamine out of their system." Hao said to Wendy.
He then continued on, "Alright, here's how the race is going to work out. You'll be racing down from here, past the underpass not too far here, then you'll make a turn to the first entry ramp on your right, keep driving across till you meet a curve which will lead to the highway, but stay on the same lane or whatever cause it will lead to another shortcut to the highway, then just keep driving and maneuvering your way past traffic on the La Puerta Freeway, cross the Miriam Turner Overpass, which will lead to the end of the bridge. That's where the race will end. We clear on that?" Hao questioned to the both of them. They both nodded their heads in response to Hao's question.
"Okay! Let's get this started. Both of you, get in your cars, get on the road and lie in wait next to each other while Wendy here will give the signal for both of y'all to take off. One more thing, put your phones on speaker to communicate." Han commanded. Thomas and Francisco ran towards both their cars, igniting their engines and drove out of the parking lot to park next to each other on the freeway lanes. Wendy then got in the middle of the road and stood in front of the drivers. Both Thomas and Francisco gave each other a determined stare in their glistening eyes before paying their attention back to the road and Wendy, who was ready to give them the signal.
"Ready… Set… GO!" Wendy said as she rose down both her arms in the air as the signal for the race to begin. Both Thomas and Francisco pressed on the pedals of the cars, causing their wheels to move with fast friction. Thomas was the first to accelerate thanks to the modified engine of his Gauntlet which allowed him to gather speed within less than six seconds on the clock. Francisco was a few feet behind him, but managed to catch up by following his path.
"No way in hell are you overtaking me! I've come too far for this shit." Thomas blurted over his speaker. He then switched to the right lane, pressing on his gas pedal again to pick up more speed as they both drove into the underpass which has three lanes for drivers to switch onto. Francisco, still on the right lane, changed from his lane to the middle, avoiding a Dominator from ruining the front bumper of his Tornado. Thomas still pressing on the pedal, moved from the middle to his right due to a black tow truck in front of him. Francisco quickly switched lanes again, following Thomas in order to get ahead of him. This worked to his advantage just as they both exited out of the underpass. He drove to his left and pressed on the pedal once more, boosting his acceleration a couple of feet ahead of Thomas's Gauntlet.
"Look at me now, amigo!" Francisco bragged over his phone. Thomas responded by flipping him off with his middle finger which Francisco saw over his mirror since he was still not too far from Thomas. Francisco and Thomas then drove onto the entry ramp to their right which connected to the other part of the freeway. Desperate to pass his rival, Thomas pressed on his car's gas pedal once more, passing Francisco's Tornado which was losing some of its speed no thanks to the disadvantage of the car slowing down while driving uphill.
"Well it looks like someone's moving slow like a snail. Pick up the pace, buddy!" Thomas said as he laughed. Francisco honked his horn in frustration three times and cursed under his breath. Thomas drove across the street over to the next exit, entering the La Puerta freeway. Thomas continued to drive on the lane until he met a curve next to another exit, both of which would eventually merge into a rear exit allowing drivers to enter the La Puerta Freeway. Refusing to lose his current streak, he drifted the curve, but overdid it by applying the brakes too late, leaving a dent on his driver's side and a now-shattered window once it hit the wall, giving Francisco a fighting chance once again. "Now the tables have turned. What did I say earlier about Gauntlets, my amigo? I think somewhere along the lines of "spinning out", I presume?" Francisco openly bragged, leaving insult for injury towards Thomas. Thomas immediately pressed on the Gauntlet's gas pedal once again, hoping to catch up to Francisco. By this point, Francisco was already in the lead, less than a mile ahead of Thomas and already entered another exit ramp, and that development further irritated Thomas.
"Come on, baby. Don't let me down!" Thomas thought in his head. At this time, he had entered the same exit ramp Francisco had gone through. He maneuvered past no less than six vehicles as he switched lanes, finally staying on the left. As he exited out of the ramp, Thomas looked from his windshield and could still see Francisco driving on the road, nearing the end of the La Puerta Freeway. Determined to catch up to him, Thomas utilized his nitrous boost, gaining speed as he smoothly drove past traffic with relative ease. His strategy paid off well as he entered the Miriam Turner Overpass with Francisco still in the lead. Luckily for him, he was nearing Pancho's position as he was moving halfway uphill on the overpass, but was being slowed down by congested traffic, narrowly damaging his car.
In his mind, Thomas knew the only way he could pass Francisco to ensure his victory was to perform the method of slipstreaming, which allows one person to move at a comparable speed towards the other they are following due to the relativity of the ambient fluid the object is moving. He waited for four minutes dodging the flow of traffic until he could perform the move.
Once the both of them exited out of the overpass, Thomas finally caught up to Francisco, who was on the left lane once he got in the clear and followed him. Francisco tersely shouted, "Hey, Thomas. Quit following my tail, it's getting quite annoying!" Thomas made a cocky smirk towards as he took the opportunity to pass Francisco as his Gauntlet's acceleration increased.
"Pancho, you can smoke my engine fumes once I'm done beating your ass!" Thomas said to Francisco. Francisco scoffed off at his remark, "Hermano, don't get too cocky. You don't want this work at all!" Thomas entered the arch bridge between the overpass and the Elysian Fields Freeway, still leaving Francisco in the dust, yet to enter the arch bridge. Refusing to lose, Francisco used the last of his nitrous to catch up to Thomas while dodging traffic as he entered the arch bridge. He finally managed to reach where Thomas was currently driving as they were speeding down the arch bridge. Francisco followed Thomas' trail like a predator chasing his prey in the wild, ready to strike when the moment is right. Thomas tried to shake Francisco off by turning lane to lane while swerving away traffic. A Korean driver in a white Baller SUV rear-ended Thomas as he attempted to make a right turn.
"Whoa! What the…!" Thomas shouted as he lost control of his Gauntlet, spinning a few feet away from where he formally was. Francisco reflexed just in time to dodge the mess of it all, pressing on the brakes and quickly switched lanes in a passive manner. "Mother Mary, Thomas! That's some bad luck right there. Goddamn…" Francisco said as he neared the end of the bridge. "Tell me about it." Thomas said with an irritated look on his face. Thomas then switched his shift stick to reverse, backed up carefully and put it on drive, continuing his end of the race. Once he crossed the end of the apex bridge, Thomas went off the main road of the Elysian Fields Freeway to a small, narrow road nearby the now-defunct oil fields of East Los Santos, where Francisco was waiting for him. He drove up behind Francisco's royal blue Tornado which barely had a scratch on its entire body while Thomas' Gauntlet had a medium-sized dent to his driver's side, a broken taillight and his driver's window gone from hitting the wall around the submerged exit from before. Thomas overheard Francisco leaving Hao a message about the race before he got out of his car.
Thomas walked up to Francisco as they both shook hands and patted his back as a sign of sportsmanship. He made a chuckle and a smirk over the rear-end incident, "I could have won if the prick in the damn Baller didn't rear-end my car. Luck may have saved you this time, but I'll be prepared for the next race." Francisco nodded, "Alright then, Thomas. I will do the same then." Thomas pulled out a lighter and a box of Redwood Cigarettes as he pulled out his second cigarette of the day and lit it up, putting the cigarette in his mouth and took a smoke. "Hey, I never got to learn much about you despite our dispute from before. Can you give me a background, maybe?" Francisco gazed upon the starry sky in all its wonder for a moment before he started to explain. "Okay. Well, I was born in Senora, Mexico, worked with the Mexican Cartels for a couple of years until I turned to the Zapatistas after all the bullshit the cartels were pulling." Thomas had a look of surprise on his face, "Wait… You used to work for the Mexican Cartels?! I've heard some nasty stuff about them on the news before. About how they've been running the drug trade for many years and the way they treat their own countrymen by slaughtering or using them to push products across the U.S. Not only that, I've heard rumors that some government officials are taking bribes or dealing with the Mexican Cartels."
Francisco nodded, his face betraying no emotion over what Thomas had just mentioned. "Those fucking putos think they can run the whole entire country when really they're running Mexico to the fucking ground! The country, the people who live in it are suffering because of their greed and selfishness by moving drugs in and out of Mexico to various places, particularly the United States. They have never known what it's like to be at the bottom of the barrel and being fed a bunch of bullshit! They're responsible for a lot of stuff, some of which I have some personal issues that need some attending to…" Francisco ranted before taking a deep breath as he paced around for a couple moments. He continued on, "I'm sorry, this… this entire thing is messed up. My past is something that I don't like to dwell upon sometimes cause' of the cartels." Thomas replied back, "It's alright. I understand where you're coming from. I have some stuff from my past that I have to confront myself. Pushing that aside, what do you do here in LS?"
Francisco answered, "Well, I work for this guy, Ortega. He runs the Varrios Los Aztecas set out in Blaine County. Works with this weird, speed-abusing Canadian gringo named Trevor Philips who runs some arms-and-guns business called "T.P.I" out in Blaine County. How do I know him? Well, he and Ortega have a partnership that's been running smoothly for some time."
Thomas looked at Francisco in surprise, "Hey! I work for Trevor Phillips! Well, only as a mercenary for his business. I don't want to go into the full detail on how I met him. Trust me, it's one long, complicated, fuck-up of a story." Thomas took a smoke for a moment before he could continue. "Hey, how about you hook me up with this Ortega guy? Maybe do a couple jobs for him here and there." Francisco rubbed his chin for what seemed to be a few seconds, "Alright, I'll give him the word though. By the way, what's it like working for Trevor?" Francisco inquired of Thomas.
"Ahh, working for Trevor does have its benefits. I get paid a good amount of money despite finding him either using Meth or shouting down at his assistant, Ron." Thomas plainly replied. He continued on, "I'll put in your name for Trevor. Anyway, can you give me your number? I have to go to Los Santos Customs to fix my Gauntlet here since it looks like crap at the moment." Francisco gave a nod as both he and Thomas traded back numbers. After the exchange, the both of them went their separate ways for the rest of the night, joining the rest of the Los Santos commute as it neared midnight.
Hey guys, it's Tom The Author here. (For anyone whose already read this chapter around the time I published it, please read down here.) So this chapter has officially marked the possible end of Thomas' Baghlan flashback with Merryweather. I spent a lot of time putting work into the flashback in order for it to leave an impact on everyone who survived and if you've finished reading it, then you've seen the end results. This chapter serves as the introduction of Native Guns' OC named Francisco Moreno, so I hope you guys will like him. The next chapter will feature Dr. Friedlander in a therapy session with Thomas which will show a discussion of what happened after Baghlan. I am also planning on introducing Lester Crest into the next chapter as he is an important character in the GTA Online/V universe and plays a prominent role in Online. If you have any ideas for the next chapter, I'm all ears. Another thing I'm considering is killing off a couple of OC's in the near-future. If you don't want to see this happen, let me know via PM or anonymous reviews. I'm also considering changing the name of this story to "GTA Online: Los Santos Stories" since I feel the current title no longer fits where the story is right now.
As for whether or not, I release another FanFic story. I've been thinking of doing a Star Wars FanFic story for quite sometime and I have a few ideas in mind. One rotates around an AU if Biggs Darklighter had survived the Death Star Attack, another about a Jedi surviving Order 66, The Great Jedi Purge and joining the Rebellion; Another deals with the story around Star Wars Galaxies and the last one which I think is controversial would be my take on what happened before Star Wars Episode 7: The Force Awakens, but I'm thinking of throwing that one in the towel since there's only a couple months before the film finally comes out.
One more thing I would like to address. To the reviewer known as "Moonman of White Topia", get the hell out of FanFiction. We don't need someone like you taking up all the oxygen in the world being inhaled by the likes of you. All you've done is simply spew racist remarks towards me and a couple other authors of different minorities who've received spammed racist reviews. I know you are friends with one author whose name will not be mentioned as this author deserves no attention. You and your friend need to go ahead and re-evaluate your lives because such hatred is only for people who hate themselves deep down and will try to divert their hate towards people who don't deserve such. May God help your lost souls. As for those who've given support, God bless you all.