God, It Must Be Torture

Part 1

Before they even accepted Lester's mission, Geoff promised his crew that this was going to be a quickie. In and out in a snap, pop a cap in a few heads, take the money, get the drugs, and then get the hell out of dodge. He made a solid promise, and he always keeps his promises, no matter what.

The FAHC didn't want too much trouble. They'd already lost one of their main six to a mission gone wrong, leaving them with five crewmembers remaining. All they wanted was something simple, something that would ease their distress of losing him.

"We'll be in and out of there in a jiffy," Geoff said as he donned his ski mask before the crew entered the abandoned warehouse.

"You could say we'll be out in a Geoffy," Michael said under his breath, his gray hockey mask hiding his smirk.

"Hey Michael?" his boss asked him.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

It was supposed to be stealthy; no one would know that they were there if they did their job effectively.

But then, as they approached the building, Ryan stopped. The crew turned around to face him in confusion.

"Ryan, what are you-?" Jack asked from under her Bill Clinton mask.

Ryan shushed her by holding up his hand. He pointed his assault rifle toward an open window on the topmost floor and opened fire. And almost immediately, a body came tumbling out, hitting the ground with a solid thud and sickening crack.

And that's when it all went to shit.

No one expected their rivals to be there. No one expected to be taken down so quickly. First, Gavin, next Michael, Geoff, Jack, and then, of course, Ryan. They were captured, not killed, which they all thought was very odd, but didn't question it.

Now they were on their knees, bound individually with their hands locked in zip ties behind their backs, and their mouths gagged with oily rags. Their captors were staring at them arrogantly, the lower half of their faces covered in black bandanas with an evil smirk printed on them. It was a first for both teams; being captured and capturing the Fake AH Crew.

What a glorious day!

"What's up, fuck ups? Remember us?" one member asked.

Yes, they did. They were the Los Santos Satans. There were seven of them altogether. Originally there were thirty-three of them, but then they encountered Ryan. Ryan, Jack, and Michael began picking them off one by one as the team advanced, and by the time Gavin went down, there were only fifteen Satans left.

"This, boys, is the best day in existence," the supposed leader of the rivals began, walking forward with his hands dangling at his sides, and mouth covered with a red bandana. "The Fake AH Crew, in our midst. How stupid they must feel for falling for Lester's 'mission'. Honestly, Boss Man," he said addressing a beaten and glaring Geoff, "I don't know how you didn't see this coming after you and your ragtag team of shitheads humiliated Lester months ago. You disrespected the man, you took his money, and so, he wanted revenge. Enter us! I gotta admit, I am impressed, though. You guys took out twenty-six of us, with only five of you. Yet, you got caught. What was wrong?" He focused his attention on Gavin who was kneeling next to Geoff with a scared twitch in his eye. "Were you distracted? Down a man? Hmm?"

The leader stood up straight, laughing at the sudden fire in Gavin's eyes, and moved on to give Jack a pat on her red head affectionately. "Now, here's how it's going to go. I'm going to go down the line of you losers for information. One of you will fess up and tell me what I need to know, where you stash your money, and I'm gonna get it one way or another," he walked past a disgruntled Michael and stopped in front of Ryan, who was watching this so called leader with arrogant eyes.

He pulled down the bandana that covered his mouth in an attempt at intimidation. "What are you looking at, jackass?" he taunted Ryan.

Ryan shrugged. "Nothing, fuckboy. I sure as hell ain't looking at your ugly ass face, no wonder you wear a bandana," he mumbled incoherently through his gag.

"That's what I thought," he said, not understanding the insult thrown at him.

"Come on, Greg," one of his cohorts said.

"Yeah, let's get to poking," another chipped in.

"They killed Lenny, Greg," the man closest to Geoff complained. "They gotta pay for doing Lenny in like they did."

"I got a new pair of clippers to use on their fingers."

"I'm hungry."

"Jess, you're always hungry."

"I wanna stick em with my new knife."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright," he silenced them with a look of death. He turned back to the FAHC and smirked. "Let's play."