Chapter Text
It all started with that fucking red baseball cap.
Before that, roughly 7 years ago, Ray had arrived in Los Santos. But he wasn't living in luxury, no, he was living on the streets, doing small jobs for easy cash and desperately trying to survive. It wasn't as bad as home, but then again, it still sucked ass.
What a shitty life.
One night, he found a dead cop.
It wasn't rare for there to be a dead bodies on the streets. But a dead cop meant that there was a gang attack. Which meant there were going to be a lot of dead cops.
But dead bodies to Ray meant they had no need for whatever they once owned. He quickly began digging through pockets, stripping the man of his wallet, his gun, and whatever else Ray felt was needed to survive.
He stopped when he found the photograph. It was the cop with what Ray assumed to be his wife, and a baby. A tiny, probably just newborn child. And Ray felt sick to his stomach.
He felt sickened that trash on the streets like him lived, while good men just doing their jobs died.
He left the scene with nothing. He ran. He couldn't function, he couldn't think, the thought of death was frustrating.
Everything was frustrating.
That was when Ray vowed to never take the life of a man who's face he saw. He would never be able to kill someone without thinking of the people who loved that person. He wouldn't be able to look them in the face and end their life.
He honestly believed he'd never be able to kill anyone. He felt weak. It fucked him up pretty bad, he couldn't do a lot without feeling sick.
And then, a month later, he encountered the man with the red baseball cap.
Ray hadn't eaten in days. He felt weak, disgusted with himself for the feeling. He hated being 'weak'. So he wobbled through the alleyways, and turned the corner, hoping there was leftover food in this garbage bin. His previous dumpster dives were failures, and he was getting desperate.
Instead, he turned just in time to watch a man's throat get slit in front of him. He saw the knife cut cleanly through skin, red liquid flow from the wound. If he weren't starving, if he wasn't weak, he would of screamed. But instead he stood there, staring at the lifeless body now limp on the ground.
That's when he realized there was a murderer in front of him. He looked at the killer, and examined them. Why not, after all, he was going to die next. May as well look at his killer. A built man, probably in their late twenties, with a surgeon mask on stood before him. Weird.
Cold, piercing blue eyes stared at Ray now. Ray stared back.
Fuck this, Ray thought.
"So," he begun, surprising himself for his voice hoarse and weak, "Are you gonna do it or what."
The man's head tilted to the side slightly, as if confused, before he approached Ray. Ray stood still in fear, but managed to look up when the man stopped walking.
This man was tall, fucking hell. Ray felt so puny compared to him. But he wasn't going to act like he felt so small, no, Ray was a stubborn bastard. He would go down feeling like the bigger man.
"Just make it quick," Ray continued, smirking, "Just end it. I got nothing to live for, besides, I'm just another person to you."
Ray hated himself sometimes because of his big fucking mouth.
It felt like eternity had passed before the man reached in his bag. Ray hadn't even noticed it, he had stared straight into this man's eyes this entire time. But now, time was up. He shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see the weapon that would end his life.
It was if time slowed down. Ray held his breath.
He felt something cover his head in a rapid motion. There was pressure pressed down for a moment, as if trying to convey something, and then it disappeared. Ray's eyes snapped open, but his view was blocked. He quickly grabbed it, and tugged it off, annoyed by how uncomfortable the inside of it was, and annoyed he couldn't see for that brief moment.
That was the red baseball cap. And inside it, wads of cash. No wonder it was uncomfortable on his head. Ray couldn't help but stare, in awe at how much money there was.
He could actually survive with this.
He could live.
But his mind beckoned him to reality, and he looked around. The killer was gone. As if he never was there. And for some reason, that annoyed the fuck out of Ray.
Instead of killing him, he gave Ray money. It was like the cold blooded murderer pitied him, looked down at him as unfortunate. And this man had just killed some civilian without any remorse. That pissed Ray off more than the disappearance.
He vowed to pay that mother fucker back, but double the amount. Because fuck. Him.
Present day, Ray was holding the dumb cap in his hands. It held up pretty well, or in other words, it didn't look shitty despite the years. Smirking, he put it on his head, and pressed down. Just like that day, when that fucker put the cap on him.
Rather than irritation, he felt a warm, nostalgic wave flow throughout him. To be honest, he owed that dumb murderer and this dumb cap a lot. His current life was great because of the two. He secretly wished he could thank the guy.
That didn't mean Ray wasn't going to pay him back. The feeling of "fuck him" was still as strong as ever.
He chuckled, and looked at himself in the mirror. Red cap on, he had his favorite purple hoodie on, and some jeans he's owned for god knows how long. He made some poses, and couldn't help but laugh.
He looked fucking stupid.
He took the hat off, put it back in his dresser where it was neatly stored and protected, and walked out of his room.
He entered the living room just in time to see Michael tackle Gavin to the ground.
It was to be expected. The two were always like this. But for it to start this early?
Ray sighed. Slipping into the kitchen, he grabbed a cup to drink some water.
"Morning Ray," Jack mumbled, yawning as he entered the kitchen. He was smiling, but immediately flinched when Gavin squawked, Michael laughing hysterically at the Brit's cries. He scowled at them, the smile replaced as he got himself a glass of water as well. "Do they have go be so loud this early?"
"Hey, just be glad they aren't banging," Ray said, making Jack chuckle, smile returning. They drank their water, watching Michael continuing his "attack". Jack laughed as Gavin now cried for help, begging his "X-Ray" to come save him. Ray just shrugged and looked away, Gavin squawking even louder from the betrayal.
Geoff now walked in, looking god awful. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey (ignoring Jack's glare of disapproval) and took a long swig from it. Ray counted the seconds before Geoff put the bottle down, empty.
Twelve seconds. Not bad, but Ray knew he could do better.
"You two fuckers," Geoff pointed to Michael and Gavin, who had ceased the fight, "get the meeting room setup. I have to introduce the new member today. He's coming soon, just get the room nice and ready for everyone."
"What?! Geoff, come on," Michael cried, "You gotta be joking! He's coming in a week, I thought we agreed that was best!"
"Change in plans," Geoff huffed out, "I tried, but he wouldn't listen. We're meeting him today. Now go and make that meeting room presentable. And don't fuck on the table."
The two lads groaned as they headed to the meeting room. Ray looked at Jack, who just shrugged, just as lost as Ray.
"Geoff," Ray begun, "I thought we all agreed you'd introduce the guy next week, when Lindsay gets back. What happened?"
"Change in fucking plans, I said this earlier," he grumbled, "Said he wants to come now. Something about wanting to scope the place out."
"... Are you," Ray hesitated, but continued when Geoff looked his way, not as angry looking as he sounded, "Are you okay? You aren't normally this way."
Geoff sighed loudly, as he tried to grab another bottle, which was now impossible because Jack stood in the way, arms crossed. Geoff looked betrayed, but, didn't protest as he grabbed a cup of water like the other two.
"I spent all night trying to convince him to wait, but he wouldn't have it," Geoff said, looking back to Ray, "It really screws us over, but we have no choice. He won't listen."
That added some tension to the room. Ray eyed Jack again, and the man stood straighter.
I hate when dad irritates mom, Ray couldn't help but think.
"How do we know he'll listen during missions then," Jack asked, "If he won't listen now, who knows what he'll do. Geoff, we don't know the guy. All we know is that he's a psychopath, and that he can kill anyone he wants."
"Which is why we need him, a muscle guy," Geoff said, now grinning. Ray knew that grin, and he, along with everyone else, hated it. It was the "trust me, I got this" grin.
"Trust me," Ray chuckled a bit as Geoff continued, "right now he's being stubborn, but he'll be great. Imagine what we'll be able to do with him around, we'll be like kings!"
Jack just sighed, knowing all too well Geoff won't change his mind, shaking his head as Geoff waited for response of some kind.
"YOLO, I guess," Ray muttered, causing Geoff to smile at Ray now.
A few moments later, the doorbell rung. Geoff jumped, but his smile didn't fade as he rushed to the door. Jack headed to the meeting room, muttering something about a spoiled old drunk (Ray agreed) as Ray slowly approached the door.
Geoff blocked the entry way, so Ray reluctantly took a few more steps forward.
"... and it'll be great, I'm sure you'll fit in," Ray overheard Geoff say, before Geoff realized he was in the room. "Oh, here's one right now, meet Brownman, our sniper."
Ray watched as the Geoff stepped aside, and the guest stepped inside.
Intimidating, tall, muscular, he looked the part at least. And then Ray looked up.
A black skull mask stared right at him. Ray stared back.
"Brownman, meet Vagabond," Geoff said, grinning as he pat the man's shoulder, "Our new muscle man."
Well, Ray thought.
Fuck this.