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“You remind me of Hannibal.”
“Really? Am I that bad?”
“Minus the eating people thing.”
“Pretty sure you can't be Hannibal without eating people.”
“Yeah well, not all analogies are winners. Some end up on someone's plate.” Ray punctuated his sentence with a popped 'P' and a raise of his eyebrows.
“I'm rightfully hammered.” Gavin said hours ago, before he got up to leave the room.
“Not gonna tell Michael to read a story so you can go beddy-bye?” Geoff laughed and Gavin waved him off.
-
“I have to do aviation checks tomorrow for this month's heist. I better go sleep.” Jack's sentence was enunciated with his stretch, vowels doing the same.
“Make sure there's no ignition bombs this time, yeah?” Michael replied.
“Will do.”
-
“Michael!” Everyone ignores the sound as if it was just the sound of a cat. “Michaeeel~!” The accent was more apparent as the voice got closer. Gavin rounded the corner as Michael responded. “Jesus, what do you want?”
“I can't sleep.” Gavin kept his hand on the door hinge, grin on his face as he slowly pisses off Michael by being in his presence. “Then throw back some sleeping pills or something. Don't bother us about it.” Geoff snickers as Gavin dejectedly starts walking back. He full out laughs as Michael throws a look at the group and then walks after Gavin, right at his heels. Everyone knows that when Geoff is still giggling minutes later it's because of the hand on the small of Gavin's back, the hand that belongs to one Michael Jones.
-
“Like Jack, I better start prep. Call up Griffon and Ammunation and all that shit nobody else can do. Make sure your guns are loaded and fingers trigger ready, boys. It's gonna be big. Lots of money.” Geoff is talking to no one in particular, as he gathers the money from the middle of table and pushes in his chair.
-
Hours later, Ray and Ryan sat there, exchanging stories of how their weeks went. Michael came out once, getting a glass of water that he didn't even sip. His eyes were almost closed and his glasses weren't on his person. Dark under-eyes were the main attraction. Michael didn't notice the two of them sitting.
There was a bout of silence, where they both thought of Ryan's last story of murder.
“How would you kill us?” Ray didn't stop dragging his fingernail into the wood table as he asked.
Ryan looked up at him, no longer fiddling with his soda can.
“Wait- What? Are you crazy?” Ryan narrowed his eyebrows like killing people wasn't his expertise.
“Don't act shocked. Dude, even I've thought about killing all of you. And after Gavin's stunt with the whole 'king' thing, I wouldn't have been surprised to find him dead in their room.” There wasn't a second of confusion of who 'they' were.
April 17th
Gavin goes to sleep early that day, talkative as always. Mostly about how Michael was to find a beach far away, where nobody would know the two of them. Michael already on a plane with a tracker on it, courtesy of Jack, so that he won't be lost at sea.
“I'm tossed for tonight. Michael is already asleep and you guys are being boring. Liven it up a little!” Gavin's hair is mussed up, aftermath of him running his hand through it too many times. He gave a thumbs up to the table and went off to his room.
Gavin is being rolled out, on a gurney, the next time he comes out of the room.
Jack is the one who found him first, knocking on his door and asking how Gavin wanted his eggs. When there was no answer he sighed and opened up the door slowly. Everyone in the kitchen is laughing, when Jack is struggling to breathe through gasps in the hallway. His glasses fell to the floor, his eyes red and wet. Jack's knuckles are white as his face, fingers roughly grabbing the door frame.
No one is talking anymore, only flinching, as Geoff drops his plate onto the floor and takes off into Gavin's room.
Ray has pulled out his phone, palms sweaty, and calls 911. Ryan is halfway between the hallway to the bedrooms and the kitchen. He's rubbing at his face and tries to console a broken Jack. Jack is trying to explain the dead look in Gavin's eyes. A gun in his hand, finger hanging off the trigger.
“There-... There was so much blood. It looked like a nightmare. It's not real. This isn't real.”
When the ambulance is being sent, Ray knows he has to call Michael.
He's silent on the phone after Ray says “It's about Gav.” He tries to push out the rest of the sentence in his head, but Michael can hear the struggle. “I'm coming home.” The dark haired boy nods, as if the other can see it. Ray can't say anything else, except. “You better.”
There's blood in his sandy hair. A horrible contrast, that makes Ray think about how he would look like with a hole in the side of his head. Geoff can't bring himself to clean up the blood yet. Ray went to check on him, and the older man didn't notice him come in. Just sat there, somewhat sitting in the blood. The broken plate stayed on the kitchen floor. Nobody came out of their rooms, or Gavin's room. Even if they did, they weren't in a mood to eat.
Michael came home the next day.
He was worse than Geoff.
-
Ray could hear the fridge opening that night, and could hear the sound of Ryan's door closing.
-
September 17th
It's 5 months later, when Ray tries to remember something.
It's 5 months, and a day, later when Jack steps into a helicopter, and doesn't step back out ever again. There's sticky bombs under it. They only know about it when they see the helicopter go down into the ocean. There's screaming over the comm systems and white noise coming from one of the mics. Ray can see Geoff's headset being thrown down from the roof. Ryan stays silent, looking up at where the carnage was. The mask is hiding his face, and Ray wants to know if there's a psychotic smile under it.
Geoff starts drinking enough for the missing members of Fake AH Crew. Geoff tells the remaining members that it was the doing of a rival gang. They heard about Gavin's death (Michael slams down his beer bottle.) and thought the crew would be weak after losing one of their core members.
Geoff and Michael are relentless the next time they see the other crew.
Jack's body isn't found. There isn't a proper burial, and there's only silence the rest of the week.
-
January 17th
Ray stares at Michael's pale face on the bathroom floor, and he doesn't know where to go. He goes to Ryan first. Ryan goes to Geoff, and then Geoff doesn't get out of bed until 3 in the afternoon, and leaves Ray and Ryan to deal with the blood and ambulance again. The note says “He called for me” in shaky handwriting. It isn't as messy as Gavin's death. There isn't a gun, just an empty bottle. Geoff comes out of his room to stare at the pristine floor of the bathroom. He grabs the biggest bottle of whiskey they have in the house, and looks through Michael and Gavin's room. They find him drunk and passed out in Jack's room at 6 AM. Ray makes sure he has a pulse, and sits next to Ryan on the couch. Ryan's eyes are pink and Ray remembers the night too many months ago when they talked about the crew's deaths. Ray stares at the picked skin around his fingernails, and remembers that Michael wasn't included in their talk. He says goodnight to Ryan and locks his bedroom door. It gives him reassurance, even if locked doors didn't hold back Ryan before.
-
Geoff is emotionally detached from the newbies. Kerry, Lindsay, and Kdin don't live in Geoff's loft. They don't question why Ray and Ryan do, mostly because they know better. They also don't question why Geoff has heists on certain days of the year.
-
April 17th
It's a year after Gavin 'left' and they're having a heist miles from Los Santos. Geoff is calling out orders left and right, when Kerry yells into the comm system. The white noise, that Ray feared after Jack, has returned. Lindsay is yelling now, commanding the remaining ones. Only Ray is affected as he stares at the spot Geoff used to stand. Ryan pulls him along, as “Sniper!” is resounded through the system. The hand on his shoulder guides him into the getaway car and doesn't leave, until Lindsay is doing roll call.
Lindsay makes her own crew, all involving Kdin, Kerry, and newest recruit, Caleb. Ray goes along with them when they need a good eye, or whenever they want to borrow equipment.
Ray stays in his cold bed, in his empty apartment. He cleans his tears before Ryan comes over weekly, and pretends to be happy. No one questions it, because no one else is left.
-
April 24th
It gets to him, and Ray can't help himself but open Ryan's bill from an unnamed company. The stamp is the thing that throws him off. Distinct. Rare. He opens the letter without a care in the world and sees a fee amounting to $35,000. Ray has his theories, and his computer is showing him he's right. Hit-men are expensive these days.
“Hey, you skipped me.”
“I though you would have appreciated me skipping your death.” Ryan looked at him, pupils dilated and eyebrows raised. Again.
“Yeah but- I want to know before it ends up happening tonight. I know too much, right?” Ray may be laughing, but inside he isn't doubting that Ryan could get rid of him easily. There's hours of silence between them, but Ray knows it only seconds in reality. Ryan is staring at the scratches on the wooden table in front of them, finger tapping over them.
“Would you eat me, Lecter?” Ray is still making jokes, even if just to fill the silence. Ryan's finger tapping stops, his finger frozen in the air. He licks his chapped lips, and his eyes dart to Ray's.
Ray is all too aware of the slight gasp that leaves his lungs. After the sound hangs in the air, he holds his breathe until Ryan speaks again.
“No.”
Ray panics just a little.
“I would kill you slowly. Not like I would with the others. I would kill you with my hands. Nothing else. I would make you bleed. Carve scars into your skin with my nails.” Ray feels small, especially when Ryan's large hands wraps around one of his. Being this close, Ray can feel his fingernails. Sharpened to a point. The pristine, sharp, terrifying nail is tracing patterns onto the back of his hand.
“Wash the blood off of you daily, patch you up, and clean you. Then one day, I would hold you in my arms. Hold you until all of the blood in your body has left. I would wipe away your last tears and kiss your forehead. I would make it look like a suicide.” Ryan's hand is pushing down harshly, making marks appear. “Give you a proper burial, like you deserve.”
Ray is sweating. He wants to run, but something is holding him back. He tells himself that it's the hand on top of his, but he knows that's not right. Before Ray can pull his hand away, Ryan is already on it. When Ray is pulling away, Ryan grabs the smaller hand roughly. Ray flinches and pulls his hand away so fast, he hits his chair. When he looks at it, he can see the bloody cut on his purlicue.
Ray stands up, making no sudden movements.
“Goodnight, Ry.” He can't meet the older man's eyes, and instead, he stares at the blood on his hands. Ray stops himself from looking into Ryan's eyes, not knowing if the other man was even looking at him. Ryan taps his red-stained fingers against the wood of the table, and that's all Ray hears.
“Goodnight, Ray.” He feels free. Free of his chains as he almost sprints off into his room.
His back hits the door as soon as he's in, throwing all of his weight against it. His hand shakes, as he reaches for the lock on the door.
Ray can barely sleep that night. He wakes up after bloody dreams, expecting to see Ryan above him, trying to make dreams come true.
He collects newspapers.
The first one is dated April 17th. The headline is Crime King Found Dead.
The second one is September 17th. The headline is Crime King Found Dead.
The third one is January 17th. The headline is Crime King Found Dead.
The fourth one, a year after the first, is April 17th. The headline is still Crime King Found Dead.
Ryan collects the last one. In his room, in a secluded corner, on his desk, in the kitchen table.
Former Crime King Found Dead.