Chapter Text
The Vagabond has to take a double take on the mismatch of people in the room. When Ramsey had approached him to join his infamous gang, the Fake AH Crew, the stories he had gathered during his research had led him to paint a whole another picture of the group in front of him.
Ramsey stands up from his chair and looms over the conference table. He's shorter than the stories led him to believe, Ryan thinks as he lets his eyes roam over the countless tattoos visible on his arms. His blazer tailored to perfection hangs from the back of his chair as the tattooed man extends a slender arm to shake his.
Ryan stands still, and Ramsey takes the cue. Ryan can see the intelligence behind Ramsey's eyes, and knows from experience that he's being judged. He doesn't mind anymore, he's gone through this theater more often than he likes to think about.
The man beside Ramsey, narrows his eyes at him and Ryan is thankful of the mask yet again. The mask allows him to inspect the curly haired man beside Ramsey without letting him know. He doesn't move his head but allows his eyes to wander shaded by the mask.
It's no doubt that this man is Jones, the demolitions man he heard so much about. The leather jacket is heavy on his broad shoulders, and Ryan can see the muscle mass in his arms even from here. "Anger issues" one of his sources had told him. He can see it now, the narrowing of the eyes and the slender hand that extends to press against his arm as a warning. Ryan doesn't want a fight, but he knows he could take him. Angry people rarely made for intelligent opponents.
His eyes wander up the slender arm that had shot out to contain Jones. Slender yet powerful arms lead to the ghastliest Hawaiian shirt he has seen on this side of the pacific. Pattillo. The pilot. Her hair hangs loose around her face, a soft and nonthreatening face he knows hides something more sinister underneath. Her eyes are on him, sharp and intelligent and Ryan senses she's done her research on him. Not that there's much on him, Ryan thinks but acknowledges the effort and its implications on her character.
Dooley sighs from the corner, clearly the groups brawler is getting impatient. If he didn't already know, the dreadful orange pants and purple blazer tells him enough to figure his identity out. Short but broad, Dooley would be the one to look out for. Ryan's heard enough about his quick fit and punishing strikes to know to keep his distance.
"So…" Ramsey drawls and draws Ryan's attention back to him. "The Vagabond."
Ryan doesn't move or say anything. His reputation would do the talking for him as it had so many times before. He isn't intimidated by this group having dealt with the worst of the worst for so long. It didn't matter that this crew ruled this city, so far they've yet to show him anything impressive.
"Not much of a talker." Ramsey continues and back down to sit next to the only other seated person in the room.
Gavin Free. The Golden Boy. Not much of an enigma that one, Ryan thinks as he eyes over the garish sunglasses that covers most of his face, the golden watch that hangs heavy on his lean wrist, the brand shirt that shows more of his chest than it hides. A casual smirk rests on his face as he stares him down unabashedly.
"Maybe he's mute." Free says with a giggle.
"I'm not." Ryan answers, making sure to growl out the answer in the way he knows scares people. Free perks up and a flash of genuine interest flashes across his face before the smirk returns.
"Ooh mysterious." Free smirks and leans back in his chair. Ryan's not sure if all the confidence is natural or not, a sign of a talented conman and thief.
"Alright knock it off." Ramsey barks at Free as he leans forward on his elbows. "I don't care if you talk or not, to be honest a bit of peace and quiet would be amazing in this fucking mess."
"The fact is that we need a hitman on the squad and you're the best money can buy." Ramsey continues louder over the chorus of objections to his previous statement. "I heard you're looking for a more permanent crew, so consider this-"
Ramsey shoves over a file on the table towards him. Ryan eyes him over before picking up the file.
"Kill this man and you're in."
The man in the picture doesn't look like anything, more than everything he is average. Brown hair and brown eyes, a tired look on his face in the candid picture that lies atop the rest of the file.
"Sounds easy enough." Ryan says as he closes the file.
"That is the attorney general." Jones laughs. "Take him out and I'll buy you a beer myself."
"Deal."
"Yes, that's the attorney general." Ramsey says with a quick glance over at Jones. "He's been a thorn in our side for long enough. It's a more difficult hit since you're more than capable but I'm counting on you. Consider this your trial. Do this and you're in if you want. If you don't, you get to walk away."
"Deadline?"
"Hah deadline indeed!" Dooley chimes in from the side.
"You got two weeks." Ramsey answers him ignoring the various groans around the room and Dooley's pleased smile. "You need anything, call me."
"Sure thing." Ryan answers and before they ask anymore questions he's out the door with the file in his hand.
He makes sure to stay vigilant and aware as he steps into the elevator and rides it down to the ground floor. The camera in the elevator is well hidden but he knows it's there. He also knows someone's watching him. He knows he would.
He sighs as he sits down in his car and closes the door behind him. He speeds off, careful not to linger around the skyscraper. He makes another route home, careful to shake any tails he might have. He's not sure if they'd even bother to trail him but better be careful.
He parks his car in the shadowed corner in the garage of his apartment. Careful not to draw any attention to him, he pulls the mask of and stuffs it into his backpack. Ryan Haywood, the friendly neighborhood IT-guy stands up from the car and hurries into the elevator with his backpack draped over his leather jacket. He's itching to get his hand on the file inside. It has been a while since his last hit.
"Ryan darling!"
The shrill and delighted voice behind him makes him stop and he's careful to put on a smile before he turns around.
"Maria!" He says and leans in to hug his small hunched over neighbor, careful not to squeeze too hard to break her. Her grey hair smells like she's baked today, he thinks with a smile.
Maria had latched onto him the moment he had moved across the hall from her. Curious, or nosy, she picked up that he lives alone and took him under her wing no matter how hard he protested at first. He later figured that she's lonely since her husband died and her kids moved east for school. After that he found himself happy of the food and care this woman poured his way in a city that wasn't his. Yet.
"It's so good to see you!" She says and holds him at arms length. "You really should go to the barber, that hair of your's getting so long."
"I'll be sure to do that." He says with a smile, although he's got no plans on doing that. The file in his backpack tempts him, but he reminds himself of the necessity of keeping up fronts. "I really need to get going Maria."
"Work again?" She says and frowns. "They're working you to death!"
"Oh it's nothing. I enjoy it too much to say no."
"You be sure to say something if that changes." Maria says with a firm squeeze on his arms. "My poor Fernando never said anything and look what happened to him! Heart attack! Oh it's dreadful!"
"It is." Ryan says with a kind smile. "I'll be sure to let you know."
"Good boy." Maria says patting his cheek with a beaming smile. She lets go of him and claps her hands together. "Oh I almost forgot, I made dinner and I knew you weren't coming home until later so I saved you some of it!"
"Oh that's not necessary-"
"I won't take no for an answer!" Maria yells at him as she shuffles over to the kitchen and returns with a small container of something that smells heavenly. "Just bring me back my container and I'll be delighted!"
Ryan thanks her and shuffles quickly into his apartment. He loves that little old lady more than most people, he thinks as he opens the container and the heavenly smell of her cooking fills his otherwise empty and dark apartment. If she only knew who she had been feeding all these weeks, Ryan muses as he sits down and starts reading the file while eating.
---
The hunt for the attorney general didn't provide much of a thrill for Ryan. The file had been extensive and provided him with more than enough information. George Paver, district attorney general is above all a boring man. Drives a black, standard issue car, the make and model the third most popular in the country. Likes his coffee black and from the same cafe every morning. Has a wife, who's having an affair with the pool boy behind his back. Nothing Ryan hasn't seen before.
The boring ones are usually the easiest. This is true even for Paver, a man who should know better. Routines and the same driving routes day in, day out gives more than enough information and means for someone like Ryan to end it all.
The barista doesn't smile at him as she gives him his coffee, looking more like she wants to jump into the highway a few blocks away than to make another latte. Ryan doesn't mind, thanks her and sits down in the corner by the window. The leather jacket is hanging in his apartment, the sunny day and the need to be incognito forced him out in a t-shirt and jeans.
He sips his coffee as he watches the traffic outside. It's 8:03 AM and Paver would rush in any minute now to grab his coffee before making it to work.
Predictability makes his work so easy and at the same time boring, he thinks as he watches the car pull up illegally on the same place on the curb as every time. Ryan gulps down the rest of his coffee and makes his way out the door, giving room for his mark to make it through before walking to his car parked just behind the now present black car.
He hums a song that he heard on the radio on his way over as he walks around the car and stops to tie his shoelaces between their cars. When he's sure that nobody's watching and that he's still hidden from all of the cameras around him he quickly places the C4 underneath Paver's car, stands up and is driving half a block away when the deafening boom and fireball of the bomb illuminates his mirrors.
---
The text message from Ramsey moves his phone on his coffee table as he's eating some casserole Maria made for him. He doesn't pick it up immediately as he's watching the news report on the tragic death of the attorney general earlier this morning.
Ryan smiles as he watches the report continue on detailing the false evidence he had left behind to incriminate one of the smaller rival gangs with beef with the crew. Fate and careful research had led him to find out that one of the leaders of the smaller gangs in the city had a little brother who had gotten incarcerated by Paver. Said little brother had died behind bars a year ago in a riot, providing Ryan a great scapegoat to take the heat for him.
He turns of the TV as the news anchor continues to another story and picks up his phone. Only one new message from Ramsey.
"Meet me, tomorrow 10 am, same place."
---
"What do you mean that's dumb?" Free squeaks as the elevator doors ding open the next morning.
Ryan takes a step out of the elevator and silences the conversation the three others were having before he arrived. Free looks at him silently, as Dooley bursts into a smile.
"Yo that was sick as fuck!" He exclaims with a broad smile.
"I approve. The bigger the boom the better." Jones cackles beside him. "Nice job on the evidence, two stones and all. I owe you that beer, hit me up when you want to collect."
Ryan nods and watches Jones wrangle the two others into the elevator. Free is still looking at him, as if he's trying to understand him as the two others continue to harp on him. He doesn't move from underneath Free's gaze before the elevator doors shut and he's left alone in the hallway.
Something about Free puzzles him. The others are easy enough to understand, the mask and the person behind it. Even from his sources he got a good enough picture to make educated guesses on. The only one he's unsure of is Free. Everything he has on him points to him being a fool, a flashy but effective thief. Yet, there's something about the way he looks at him that makes him doubt that maybe there's more than that underneath the surface.
He shakes his head and marches into the conference room. Ramsey looks up at him from the maps he had been studying and Pattillo glances up from her laptop.
"Nice work!" Ramsey exclaims and points him to a chair opposite him. "Thank you, not only for the hit but for the false evidence."
"That was clever." Pattillo smiles from behind her computer as he sits down.
Ryan stays silent as he sits content in watching the others. Besides, what's a man to say in a situation like this? His mother hadn't taught him the manners for these situations.
"So as I told you before, consider that that was your trial." Ramsey says after a moment. "You proved yourself, not that you needed to do that with your reputation. There's a place for you if you want it. I'm sure you have questions?"
"A few." Ryan answers and shifts in his chair. "You're aware of my reputation?"
"Yes."
"I need you to understand that I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to do a job, a job that I do well, and although I'm looking for more stability that doesn't mean I'm going to be singing Kumbaya with you tomorrow."
"Okay." Ramsey says and leans back in his chair. "I think that's manageable."
"Good." Ryan answers. "I don't hurt kids or what counts as innocents in this city."
"Neither do we." Pattillo answers quickly. "We go after those who come after us, poses a threat or are generally speaking bad people."
"I can work with that."
"We usually do things here in pairs or in groups." Ramsey says. "There might be a case or two where I'll send you alone, but for the most part you're going with someone. Is this an issue?"
"No." Ryan answers trying his best to hide his scoff. As if he couldn't be professional.
"Also-" Pattillo chimes in with a quick glance at Ramsey. "This crew operates on trust. That trust is fundamentally what's keeping us safe and leads us to be very comfortable around each other. We do things here on a first name basis unlike other crews. It's Geoff and Jack, not Ramsey and Pattillo, if you understand what I'm saying."
"Yeah." Ramsey agrees. "I don't expect you to be comfortable with it immediately, but if you're going to be a part of this crew it's going to be on a first name basis. That's of course only inside the house, inside the crew. When others are around it's code names or names that are already blown."
"You alright with that?" Pattillo asks and looks at him with kind eyes.
Ryan thinks for a moment, the discomfort of people knowing his name heavy on his heart. It's been years since the last time someone knew his actual name or could connect Ryan Haywood to the Vagabond. And yet, as he sat in silence with the two crew leaders he felt weirdly at home. Trust, he thinks as he looks around the room. If Los Santos is to become his home, if he's going to be settling down here for a period then why not. This crew, although eclectic and odd is still his first choice and he's finally ready to put in the work and trust to make this place his home. And if it didn't work out, he still could kill them all with ease and move on.
Ryan nods and Pattillo, no Jack, beams as she nods back at him.
"Great." Geoff says clapping his hands together. "We've got a heist planned for next week. The brief is tomorrow and I expect you to join us Ryan."