After the workout, Alexia's first order of business had been her brothers. Using the Skulls' VPN, she'd sent them a short email telling them how sorry she was for leaving them and how dearly she missed them, but that she was alright, and that she would be sending them money soon.

The message hadn't been easy to send –she'd broken down crying while writing it, but after some encouragement from Jess, she'd managed to finish the email with a promise that she would work hard to ensure they would see each other again some day.

Jess had driven Alexia back to her apartment. Before she'd left, Jess had given her friend the rest of the Bull Shark Testosterone pills, along with some protein powder, which would help her muscles rebuild themselves after workouts. Strength training, as Jess had explained, was the process of shredding muscles to bits, then building them back better and stronger. It was painful and tedious work, but the end result, as Jess had explained, would make it all worth it.

The two friends had hugged tightly, promising to meet up again soon, before Jess had sped off in her car. As the roar of Jess's engine faded into the hot air, Alexia realized something: she finally had some time to herself. She'd been engaged in either missions or social occasions since the moment she'd stepped off the plane. For this short moment in time, she had nothing else planned, which meant she could take a step back and try to calm her frazzled nerves.

She'd started with a trip to the Bean Machine on the bottom floor of her apartment complex. The shop's menu had intimidated Alexia, who'd never been to a coffee shop before; she'd had no idea what words like 'macchiato' or 'café au lait' meant, but such words made up the bulk of Bean Machine's menu.

Through anxious stuttering, she'd managed to place an order of a small mocha frappe with a chocolate chip muffin. Sitting down at a small corner table to eat, she'd been pleasantly surprised: the muffin was fluffy, the chocolate chips delectably sweet, and the frappe was basically a chocolate milkshake, but with a dark, somewhat earthy aftertaste. It was a bit expensive for her taste, but an occasional coffee as a treat wasn't entirely out of the equation.

There was a Didier Sachs clothing store in the same building, but Alexia had stayed away from there, lest she be tempted by another fancy dress. Instead, she'd taken the elevator back up to her apartment and had gotten to work on her unpacked suitcase, folding all of her clothes and hanging them up in her spacious wardrobe.

Afterwards, Alexia had showered and changed into some pajamas before reclining on her couch, armed with the book her uncle had given her. By all accounts, her living room was the perfect reading area, high above the noisy city. The column fireplace had crackled softly behind her, and sunlight had streamed in through the bay windows, illuminating the pages as she read.

By page three, she'd been hooked. Red Dead began in 1899, the dying age of the Wild West. After a botched robbery on a ferry boat, the Van der Linde gang had been forced to flee into the snowy mountains of Ambarino. Several members of the gang were either shot or froze to death on the way, and as she quickly learned, her ancestor, John Marston, had almost been one of them. While scouting ahead for the gang, he had been attacked and very nearly eaten by wolves.

"My pa was up on that ledge for two days," the book read. "The wolves kept him cornered; I reckon they were just waiting for him to die so they could pick his bones. By the time Javier and Arthur got to him, he was in a pretty bad way. The wolves had cut him up something fierce, and for the rest of the time I knew him he had two jagged, sunken scars, like tiger stripes, running down the side of his face. I was right terrified of him for a while afterwards. And, funny enough, so were a lot of fellas who tried to cross him."

Jack Marston, Alexia's great-grandfather, was just four years old when the gang had fled for their lives into the mountains. In the book's foreword, he'd admitted to having an imperfect memory of the events leading up to the gang's downfall, and that most of his information had come from interviews he'd conducted over the years with the surviving members.

Alexia had flown through the first few chapters and was thoroughly lost in the book when she was startled by her phone, buzzing like a chainsaw on the glass coffee table. Setting her book down on the couch, Alexia picked up her phone and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this the number for Alexia Knight?"

She frowned. "Who is this?"

"My name is Simeon Yetarian. I was the one who paid to have your car, the red Oracle, repaired the other night."

"Oh, yeah." Alexia sat up. "You're a friend of Lamar's, right?"

"He is merely my employee, but we are acquainted, yes." The man had a thick Middle Eastern accent, but his English was proper and refined. It wasn't hard at all for Alexia to make out what he was saying.

She smiled. "Well, um…I-I appreciate the generosity…sir."

"It was no trouble, my girl," said Simeon. "Just so you know, I also included a six-month insurance policy through Mors Mutual. The full premium has been paid already, so if the car is ever totaled, it will be replaced at little to no cost to you, with all modifications included."

"Wow, thank you." Alexia blinked. "W-why are you paying for all this stuff for me?"

"You catch on fast, my girl. You see, in return for my generosity, I humbly ask that you assist me with my business. I run a car dealership, Premium Deluxe Motorsport in Pillbox Hill. To keep the business afloat, I need to keep cars on the lot. Luckily, this city is replete with young, plastic, self-absorbed people who buy cars as nothing more than a status symbols. They care not for the fine print, or even the large print, and thus I can charge them exorbitant interest rates without even the slightest hint of skepticism. It is a good business model, yes?"

Alexia's face fell. "So you repossess peoples' cars?"

"Well, not me. I find it much easier to contract people in your particular line of work to do it for me. Besides, my girl, I have no patience for delinquent buyers. They sign their names on the dotted line, so they should be able to pay up."

She had to pause to swallow the bile that was rising up in her throat. It was obvious that this man was a usurer, one of the lowest kinds of crooks there was. Simply put, they were parasites, preying on the young and inexperienced with lies and deception, then driving them into debt from which they would never recover.

Alexia had been poor. She'd lived under the yoke of maxed-out credit cards and high interest rates, on land that was under the constant threat of foreclosure, and it was through no fault of her own - she'd been born into debt. There were almost no jobs in her area, and her mom was constantly wasting money on liquor. But as for the creditors, they didn't care if Alexia and her brothers starved. She knew just how ruthless they could be if they didn't get paid, so the thought of working with one sent chills down her spine.

Wait…this is different, she reasoned. He's not targeting poor people. He's targeting idiots who buy fancy cars they can't afford. Besides, this is a city – if your car is repossessed, you can just take public transport.

She gripped her phone hard. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sound calm as she addressed Simeon.

"So…this is all above-board, I'm assuming?"

"More-or-less, my girl." She could hear the sinister smirk in his voice as he talked. "It should not concern you that much. Compared to some of the things the Black Skulls do, repossessions are a mere trifle, yes?"

"I'm sure." Alexia nodded. "So, what do you need done?"

"I will be sending you a list of cars in the future that are in high demand," said Simeon. "These are all vehicles that would fetch a fair price on the showroom floor, provided they are in good condition. Acquire them using any means necessary, then bring them to the dealership. You will be paid for your efforts, of course."

"Of course."

Alexia rolled her eyes; Simeon wasn't making her his slave, at least. She would still likely be paid much less than what the cars were worth, but regardless, Alexia knew she had to start somewhere.

"I already have a lead on two of the vehicles," Simeon informed her. "These are a black Enus Super Diamond and a silver Grotti Stinger GT, both new cars that have been stolen from me by the occupants of the Richman Mansion. I need you go there and repossess the vehicles, ideally without damaging the paint, ah?"

"Got it." Alexia nodded. "I might need to recruit another person, if that's alright."

"Of course, my girl! I wasn't expecting you to repossess two cars by yourself. Bring along someone you can trust, and I will pay you both my standard rate. What do you say to five thousand dollars each?"

Alexia fell back in her seat; her mouth was agape. She wasn't expecting nearly that much for one job. But she knew that if this job went well, that would cover her rent for the entire month. Suddenly, the moral burden of working for a usurer didn't seem quite as heavy.

"Th…y-yeah, that would work."

"Excellent! I will see you soon with the cars, yes?"

"Y-Yes, sir. I'll get it done."

Alexia hung up, and anxiety flooded her extremities. Not only were thousands of dollars now on the line, but she would also have to recruit someone to go with her.

"Jess can't do it," Alexia said aloud. "She told me she has stuff to do at the airport. So that just leaves…"

She picked up her phone again. Her index finger trembled in fear as she scrolled down her contacts list and found Damien's number. She'd spoken to Damien last night, and she considered herself acquainted with him, but by this point it was rather obvious that she liked Damien, and it was also obvious that she had no idea how to tell him this. Socializing was hard enough for er; she'd never been even remotely confident around those of the opposite sex who weren't her uncle or her brothers.

However, five thousand dollars was an adequate incentive to make the phone call anyway; after all, her spacious apartment wasn't going to pay for itself. Gritting her teeth, she selected Damien's number, and the phone began to ring. Each ring of the dial tone sent pangs of fear down her spine. After three rings, she heard him pick up.

"Hey, Alexia. How you doing?"

"I-I've been okay…How are you?"

"Busy as hell." Damien sighed. "That raid on the bikers today? I was in charge of planning that."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, your uncle normally gives me carte blanche on ops like this. Good job in that chopper, by the way. Jess was telling me how well you did."

"It was mostly her." She shrugged, although a smile pulled at her lips.

"That's not what she told me. But either way, the mission was successful. I was gonna help your uncle later in interrogating those prisoners, but right now I've got some free time. Did you need something?"

Alexia gulped. "Well…yeah, actually. You don't have to or anything, but I could use some help on a job."

"A job?" He sounded interested. "Does it pay?"

"Mm-hmm. It's for this car dealer in town."

"Ah, so a repo, I'm guessing?" Damien sighed. "Well, I used to do jobs like that back in my younger days. I could help you out."

She smiled. "I appreciate it, Damien."

"It's nothing. Where's your place at? I could come pick you up."

"It's 3 Alta Street in Pillbox Hill."

"Those luxury apartments?" He whistled. "Well, shit, your uncle must really like you."

"H-He puts up with me," she joked shyly, which earned her a laugh from Damien. "You far out?"

"Nah, I'm actually downtown right now. I'll just meet you outside, if that's cool."

"Sounds good," she said quietly. "See you then."

Alexia hung up. Her chest fluttered as she flopped down on her couch, staring up at the ceiling as she hugged one of her couch pillows.

For the first time in her life, she'd managed to talk to a guy over the phone. Not only that, but she hadn't even been awkward in doing so – indeed, the conversation had gone as smooth as silk. Alexia's shoulders relaxed as a wave of unparalleled euphoria washed over her.

"Grin, you are one hell of a drug," she whispered.

Alexia sighed. She didn't want to get her hopes up; there was still the possibility that her social awkwardness could turn him off, but she couldn't help but be hopeful.

However, any potential romance could wait. At that moment, she had a job to do. Tossing her pillow aside, Alexia jumped off the couch and darted downstairs, stripping off her pajamas as she entered her wardrobe.

It was a very hot day outside. Considering this, Alexia picked out a black tank top, which she complemented with a pair of skinny jeans and her red flannel from yesterday that she tied around her waist. Speed-walking to her bathroom, she flicked on some mascara and rubbed her mouth with the red lip gloss Jess had bought her.

She was about to style her hair when a text came through: Damien was waiting for her on the curb outside. In a panic, Alexia grabbed her phone and headed upstairs, grabbing her purse and her gun. The last thing she wanted was to keep Damien waiting.

"Calm down, Lex," she told herself on the elevator ride down. "We're just stealing cars together. It's not like this is a date or anything."

She had to admit, a date would have wracked her nerves much more. She'd at least been on a couple of jobs at this point. In contrast, she'd never been on a single date in her life. The thought of dating a tall, handsome man like Damien was intimidating, to say the least.

Alexia caught sight of her reflection in the steel elevator panels. Her eyes turned morose; the image of her scrawny, flat-chested self had flung her back to reality.

"Who am I kidding? This guy dated Jess at one point…No way he'd ever be into me."

The elevator dinged to signal its arrival. With her head hung in defeat, Alexia stepped out and opened the door to her building. As she did so, the hot city air smacked her right in the face. Through a sea of heat ripples, she caught sight of a black Sandking XL, a massive lifted pickup truck, sitting on the curb outside.

Clutching her expensive purse to her side, Alexia scampered over to the pickup truck. The passenger side door opened for her.

"Hey," said Damien, smiling down at her.

"H-Hey." Alexia grinned back at him, her cheeks flushing red.

With some difficulty, she lifted herself into the truck's cab and shut the door behind her. The Sandking's A/C was a welcome reprieve from the summer heat. Channel X, an old-school punk station, was playing over Damien's stereo, pumped through deafening aftermarket speakers.

"So where we headed?" he asked her, turning his radio down.

"The Richman Mansion," she answered. "Do you know where that is?"

"Sure. I've driven past a couple of times."

Damien shifted the truck into gear and mashed the gas. The Sandking rumbled out onto Alta Street, belching smoke from its straight-piped exhaust as it made a U-turn to head north toward Richman. Alexia buckled her seatbelt, setting her purse gently on the floor of the truck.

"You wanna just brief me on the way?" Damien asked.

Alexia smiled and nodded. "We're looking for two cars: a black Super Diamond, and a silver Stinger GT."

"Nice rides," said Damien, scratching his beard. "But by all accounts, the guy that owns the place has money to spare."

"Who owns it?"

"Guy's named Hef Hilton. You may have heard of him? Super-rich old guy, surrounds himself with beautiful young women who do anything he wants. He's the founder of Pussycat magazine."

Alexia shook her head, looking at her feet. "I-I prefer gun magazines to that sort of literature."

"Me, too," Damien said, chuckling. "Speaking of, what kind of weapons you got on you?"

"Just my nine-millimeter," she answered. "Is that gonna be enough?"

"Well, Hef Hilton's got his own security team. Maybe ten, fifteen guys with handguns? But for you, that's probably an average Tuesday."

"I don't know about that." Alexia laughed uneasily. "What about you? What are you bringing?"

"I've got an Assault Shotgun in the back."

"A full-auto shotgun…" Her eyes lit up. "Does it have the thirty-two round drum mag?"

"You bet it does." Damien smiled. "I installed a foregrip on it, too. Keeps the gun from flying outta my hands."

"That's smart," she commended him. "I've only shot pump-actions with my uncle, and those were hard enough to control. I can't even imagine a twelve-gauge at full auto."

"It was a learning curve, for sure. Maybe after this, we could go to a shooting range somewhere? I could teach you a thing or two, or you could even teach me. It's up to you, though."

Alexia shimmied in her seat, struggling to contain the rush of emotions she was feeling. The idea of shooting guns with Damien made her nerves tingle with excitement. But she feared worst of all that telling him how she really felt would just chase him away.

"I…I-I'd like that," she said simply; the truck reverted to silence.

Shit, was that the right thing to say? Goddammit, Alexia, you're fucking this up already-!

"You ever stolen a car before, kid?"

Damien broke the silence. Alexia was beyond grateful for this, since it cut off her internal self-loathing. She'd found that even Grin couldn't stop the occasional depressive thought from breaking through.

Composing herself, Alexia shook her head. "Before I came here, I robbed a couple of liquor stores. But that was it - I wasn't a career criminal or anything."

"Ah, I see. So you're just learning as you go along, then?"

"Pretty much…"

She was a tad embarrassed to admit this in front of a veteran Skull like Damien, and there was no way she was going to tell him about stabbing her classmate nearly to death. Luckily, his gentle smile seemed to suggest understanding, rather than impatience with her lack of experience.

"Well, we've all gotta start somewhere," he said. "I mean, I haven't done a job like this in…oh, seven or eight years now? Since I was a rookie."

"H-How old are you, Damien?"

"I just turned thirty."

Her eyes popped open. Damn…He's ten years older than me?

She didn't know how to take this. Damien looked much younger than thirty, probably because he kept himself in shape and didn't abuse drugs. When she thought about it, Damien had all the hallmarks of a mature older man, one who was at a much different stage in life than she was.

But hey, we're both adults, she reasoned. It could still work, and – oh, stop it, Lex! We went over this already, he is not into you. Just get that through your thick head before you end up all sad and heartbroken.

"W…What'd you do before joining the Skulls?" Alexia asked him, hoping desperately to dissuade her mind from pointless thoughts of romance.

"Well, I'm from Broker originally - Liberty City." Damien leaned back in his seat. "Used to run with the Gambetti Crime Family, but eventually, I just got sick of all the mob politics – a bunch of stuffy, wise-guy Italians sitting around a table, telling me what to do. So I ran as an independent contractor for a while, running my own scores and killing who I wanted, before a mutual friend introduced me to the Skulls. Here, I've got way more freedom than I did in LC, and I also get paid better. It was a win-win for me."

Alexia nodded. "My uncle told me it's kinda like the Wild West out here."

"Yeah, he does say that a lot," Damien admitted. "And he's not wrong, either. At least here, I don't have to worry about all this decorum and tradition and paying my dues, like the mob does. They say everyone in LS is focused on appearances, but anyone who says that has never been to the East Coast."

"I've never been there, so I can only imagine," said Alexia. "You were an assassin in Liberty City, too?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "The mob families, they called me 'Il Fruscio'. In English, that roughly translates to 'The Rustling' or 'The Whoosh'. I got the name because the only trace I ever left was the whoosh of my bullets."

"That's badass…" Alexia's lips pursed. "Do they do names like that in the Skulls?"

"Some of us have names, but we're not as big on them here as the mob is. If you wanna make your own nickname, go nuts."

"M-Maybe later down the road," she said. "I feel like I have to earn a cool name first, like you did."

"Fair enough." Damien shrugged. "You mind if I just call you 'kid' 'til you decide on one?"

"Yeah, that…that's fine."

Damien smiled; he reached over, lightly squeezing her on the shoulder. She jumped a little at his touch, and this caused him to back off, his hand returning to the steering wheel.

The truck reverted to a crushing silence. Alexia looked down at the floor in shame. Damien's hand was strong, warm, and immensely comforting, just like it had been when he'd helped her up off the dance floor at Bahama Mamas. It was a nice, welcome touch, and one she would've invited if she'd known how; she'd only jumped because of her anxiety, but Damien had mistaken this for reticence, like she didn't want him making physical contact with her.

She was working up the nerve to break this silence when she noticed Damien pulling over to the curb in front of a Spanish-style palace, plucked straight out of the Golden Age of Vinewood. Through the front gate was a winding cobblestone driveway, shaded from the Los Santos Sun by oak trees. The whole complex was surrounded by a stone wall, atop which sat a series of hedges. These provided much-needed seclusion for what Alexia was sure were the wild gatherings of a porn magnate's abode.

Alexia blinked. She thought she'd seen luxury the first time she'd entered her apartment. While her place was nice, it was nothing compared to the multimillion-dollar mansion in front of her. The thought of robbing the looming, castle-like home was intimidating, to say the least.

"It's a big place, right?" asked Damien.

"You're telling me…" Alexia swallowed. "How do you think we should do this?"

"Well, if we wanna get the cars out, we've gotta get that front gate open. Easiest way to do that would be to hack that keypad on the wall there."

Alexia frowned. "I'm not much of a hacker…"

"That's alright. I'll take care of the hack if you can keep watch for me. But once we get that gate open, we'll have to move fast. Hef Hilton's security don't like trespassers."

"Alright, I'll be ready." She swallowed. "Let's do this."

Without another word, the two criminals disembarked from the pickup truck. Damien reached into the back and retrieved the Assault Shotgun, which Alexia quickly noticed had been fitted with a suppressor and a mounted flashlight. Her eyes were glued to this gun, whose black anodized finish gleamed in the Sun as she walked beside Damien.

Focus, Lex, she told herself. That's a really nice weapon, but we've got work to do.

Alexia felt for the loaded pistol in her handbag. She followed Damien as he hustled to the front gate, looking left and right for anyone approaching.

"Here we are," said Damien. "Keep an eye out, will ya'? This shouldn't take too long."

Reaching into the front pocket of his shirt, Damien withdrew a small USB drive, which he inserted into the bottom of the keypad.

Alexia blinked. She hadn't expected Damien to just casually carry around hacking software in his pocket; after all, the man was an assassin, not a cyber criminal. But then she remembered what he'd told her, that stealth was a part of his job. This was probably much easier if one could open any electronic gate in the city.

She looked around; she was already beginning to sweat under the hot Sun. She could hear the faint rhythms of pop music from the mansion's backyard, and with it the occasional splash of water and whoops of drunken laughter.

"Sounds like a party in there," she said to Damien.

"Yeah," he answered. "I wish I brought my swim trunks."

"Maybe for the next mansion we rob, we just show up in bathing suits, pretend we're on the list?"

"Ha! I like the way you think," said Damien. "That's what Jess would do, if she was here. She loves to go undercover."

"I-I could see that," she admitted. "She told me she used to be an actress."

"And she hasn't lost that skill – it's served her well in the Skulls." Damien hunched over the keypad. "Okay, I think I've almost got this done. Get your skull mask on, okay?"

"Got it."

Alexia's fingers trembled as she strapped on her black mask. The swimsuit comment had been meant as a joke – she couldn't imagine wearing a swimsuit in front of anyone, especially not Damien. However, she could tell that Damien liked her jokes, as awkwardly delivered as they were.

I'm sure some would even call that flirting… She shook her head. Not the time, Lex. Get your head in the game.

Damien withdrew the USB stick, and the gate instantly withdrew into its hinge, allowing them access to the mansion. Drawing the shotgun from his back, Damien led the way toward the two cars, his eyes scanning for any guards.

"Coast looks clear," said Damien. "Watch and learn, kid."

Damien ventured over to the black Super Diamond and withdrew something from his pocket, a thin piece of metal that looked like a nail filer. As Alexia watched, he inserted the piece of metal into the lock on the driver's side. After some fiddling, the door swung open, leaving Alexia dumbstruck.

"Cool, huh?" he said. "This thing's called a slim jim – use one if you don't want any car alarms or broken glass. Here, you can have one of mine."

Alexia took the slim jim from Damien. She quickly concealed it in her front pocket, realizing it weighed almost nothing.

"You wanna take this ride?" asked Damien, pointing to the Super Diamond.

"Y-Yeah, I can get it hotwired." She had experience doing that, at least – her mom's old SUV would sometimes fail to recognize keys on cold mornings, but a quick hotwire could often get it started.

"Alright, I'll take the Stinger over there. Once we're fired up, I'll take the lead."

Damien hustled over to the Stinger as Alexia hopped in the driver's seat of the Super Diamond. Using her new slim jim, she popped off a plastic cover under the steering wherl, which connected to the wires she needed to start the engine.

"Hey! Who's there?"

Alexia jolted up in a panic. A security guard was rushing out of the grotto in the mansion's backyard. Upon catching sight of Alexia, he immediately drew his gun. Her entire body froze.

"Get out of the car with your hands up!"

Almost as soon as he finished, the guard's chest was littered with buckshot. He was launched down the cobblestone driveway, a streak of blood following his egress. Alexia noticed with stunned silence that the man's shirt had almost been ripped off by the force of Damien's shotgun.

"More of 'em on the way!" Damien called. "You almost done?!"

"Almost!"

Alexia's hands trembled like mad as she reached under the steering wheel and connected the wires she needed to start the engine. The Super Diamond's V12 engine roared to life, accompanied by the higher-pitched vroom of Damien's Stinger GT.

As soon as the car was on, more guards came spilling out of the stone archway leading to the backyard. Damien returned fire with an AP Pistol, and Alexia's tires screeched as she followed Damien out of the mansion, followed closely by the hollow thwacks of bullets against the Super Diamond's trunk.

Immediately, the criminals made a right onto Eclipse Boulevard, followed by a left onto Dorset Drive, toward the Los Santos Golf Club. Sweat drenched through Alexia's shirt. No matter much experience she may have had, being shot at was always a terrifying experience.

"Hey, kid! This your frequency?"

Static had sounded through the car's stereo system; Alexia's shoulders relaxed. She reached for a button beside the volume knob, which controlled the cars' communication systems.

"Y-Yeah, it's me!" she called out.

"Alright, just stick close! I know a shortcut we can take past the Del Perro Freeway!...Oh, hey there, cops! What took you assholes?"

The shrill wail of sirens pierced the hot city air. A couple of patrol cars were hot in pursuit, closing in on Alexia's bumper.

"You are both under arrest! Pull over to the side of the road!" the police intercom blared.

"Keep your skull mask on, kid!" Damien said calmly through the radio. "Just follow me real close, okay?! We'll get through this!"

Alexia's temples were pounding. Her skin was clammy and cold as she followed behind Damien. The cars continued straight on Dorset Drive, squeezing through traffic as the two cop cars screamed behind them. Eventually, one of the cars attempted a PIT maneuver; Alexia saw him in her passenger side mirror, trying to pull alongside in an attempt to spin her out.

In that moment, Alexia remembered the street race against Noël. Like that night, there were plenty of obstacles on the road she could use. She veered right, then turned sharply to the left; she knew there was no way she could outpace the cop car in a heavy vehicle like this, but she could use other cars to her advantage, namely the parked SUV in the right lane straight ahead, which the police car had been blocked from seeing until the very last second. The cop tried to avoid the accident but rear-ended the SUV, sending a shower of glass and jagged metal flying along the roadway.

More sirens were descending on Dorset Drive like a pack of wild dogs. Police cars appeared to materialize from the side streets, in hot pursuit of the two stolen luxury vehicles.

"This is the LSPD! Pull over NOW!"

Alexia tried her best to keep from hyperventilating, which she knew would cause a panic attack. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on Damien's bumper, finding some comfort in her much more experienced partner.

"Hey, you still alive back there?!" Damien yelled over the radio.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here!" Alexia replied in a shaky voice.

"Alright, we're not losing the cops on the road! Let's drive the cars off that overpass there!"

"…Say again?!" She was hoping like Hell that she'd misheard him.

"Just trust me, alright?! We'll land on the freeway, and on the right will be a little opening to a construction site underground! We can lose the cops in there!"

The overpass was quickly approaching, as were another horde of police from Rockford Hills. There was a small gap in the concrete barrier that separated the road they were on from the Del Perro Freeway. Alexia could see cars, zipping down the eastbound lanes.

Alexia's hands gripped the steering wheel. Her heart beat so fast that she thought she might have a heart attack. As the overpass approached, Alexia didn't have much time to process her incoming death.

"HOLD ON TIGHT, KID!"

"FUUCK FUCK FUUUUUUCK!"

Damien's car rocketed off the overpass, followed closely by Alexia's. Most of the cop cars pursuing them hit the concrete barrier, but one managed to squeeze through. It left the overpass at an awkward angle, landing on its side in the oncoming lanes, where an eighteen-wheeler hauling gasoline was barreling down the freeway. The truck swerved to the left, but it was too late.

The front of Alexia's car tipped forward; her whole body contracted, her fingers digging into the steering wheel as her tires screeched on the pavement. She braked hard to regain control of the car as an explosion engulfed the other side of the freeway, incinerating any cars and people nearby. She followed close to Damien in the Stinger GT, who crashed his way through some construction barriers into a tunnel, directly underneath downtown.

After the tunnel entrance was another smaller jump, which Damien handled with ease; as shaken as she was, Alexia could tell he'd taken this route a few times. The roars of their engines echoed off the concrete walls of what quickly became a construction site; the odd worker was forced to scramble and duck out of the way as the two cars barreled through the narrow complex of tunnels.

Eventually, the tunnel complex became markedly less developed. Concrete was replaced with mud and colonies of rats, along with a noticeable lack of lighting. The two criminals flipped their headlights on.

"Almost out, okay?! Just stick close!"

Alexia was shaking like a tambourine in the driver's seat, gasping in breaths. Her brain still couldn't quite process what had just happened, but she followed behind Damien anyway, hoping he would lead them to a safe stop somewhere.

The literal light at the end of the tunnel was a welcome sight; the maze of tunnels spit the two cars out into the LS River, a concrete flood control device that ran through the low-lying eastern and southern portions of the city. Damien stopped the cars just after the tunnel entrance.

Alexia felt dizzy. As she took the keys out of the ignition, she felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest. She stripped off her skull mask, hoping this would make it easier to breathe.

"Looks like we lost 'em." Damien approached Alexia's window. "…You alright?"

"I…wouldn't go that far."

Damien gently helped her out of the car. "It's okay, kid. Just breathe," he said, patting her on the back.

"Thank you. I…"

Alexia stopped; she held up a finger as she turned away from Damien, then promptly hunched over and retched onto the trash-strewn concrete.

Damien turned away as she finished vomiting; she could see half-digested chocolate chips, embedded in the mushy green mess at her feet. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve; somehow, almost dying in a fiery wreck made her not care much about proper hygiene.

"Well…" Alexia sniffed. "That was fun."

"You mean that?"

She shook her head. "No. I practically shit myself back there…But at least we're alive."

"Well, now you see why we do those street races, huh?" He smiled. "You did good, kid."

Alexia nodded. An uneasy smile crossed her face as color returned to her cheeks. "I'm…looking forward to trying that shotgun now."

"Of course," he said. "And maybe we could go get a bite to eat, or something? If you want to, I mean."

Damn…A dinner date already?

In normal times, this would've made her a nervous wreck, but she noticed that the combination of Grin and her narrow brush with death made her previous anxieties seem trivial. Suddenly, talking to the handsome guy in front of her was as easy as talking to Jess or her uncle.

"I…I'd like that, Damien."

He smiled. "It's a plan then. Let's get these cars to this dealer friend of yours first."

Damien headed back to his Stinger GT. Alexia navigated past her puddle of vomit to the Stinger GT, which she noticed was caked with mud and rat guts. All she could do was hope that Simeon Yetarian wouldn't deduct from her pay for these minor cosmetic defects.

There's gotta be an easier way to do these jobs, she thought. Sure, I didn't kill anyone this time, but Damien did. And all those people when the tanker truck exploded…

Alexia let out a breath. The remnants of another panic attack washed over her like a wave, not getting a chance to settle in her nervous system. At the moment, she was too relieved to be alive to consider the human cost of this job. In some ways, she supposed she was becoming used to the sight of people dying.

The whole city's a war zone, she lamented. No wonder my uncle's thrived here – it's probably just Vietnam 2.0 for him.

Starting her engine, Alexia followed Damien up an embankment, which led out of the LS River and back into the city. Cruising through the downtown streets, trying not to look suspicious, they made their way to Simeon's dealership in the heart of the city, just a couple of blocks from Alexia's apartment.