Disclaimer: These YouTubers are people, not fictional characters. I don't own them in any way, shape, or form. The only things I own are this story and some OC characters. Enjoy the epilogue~!
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Third Person PoV
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Death row. The ultimate penalty, second only to lifetime imprisonment in solitude. This was Liam Andrews Peterson's punishment for the murder of Michael Herrera and Joshua Peterson.
His final words were, chillingly, "I'd do it again, if given the chance."
For the rest of their lives, Josh and Mike's friends would ask themselves the same question: Why would he kill his own child? They just couldn't understand how someone's hate for the lifestyle of another could drive them towards murder. Why would someone willingly have innocent blood on their hands? It simply didn't make sense.
Bryce sat silently at his kitchen table, his little kittens roaming his house. He bit his lip, chewing as he thought. Ever since the apprehension of Liam Peterson, he had been stuck in an endless loop.
One of his kittens ran up to his leg and rubbed against him, purring slightly. Bryce smiled softly, gently petting his little kitty.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted to his cat. The kitten just cocked its head to the side. "Five months ago I would have turned the BBS in, but now. . ." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Now I know them, kitty. They're my friends. I can't just throw them under the bus! Besides. . . Most of what they do is actually really helpful. . . It wouldn't hurt to keep thus information to myself, right?" He looked at his kitten hopefully. The cat didn't reply and simply licked its paw adorably. He sighed. "I don't have time to think about this anyway. . . I need to get to work."
Bryce stood up, his chair screeching as it was forced backwards. He winced slightly at the sound. Adjusting his tie, Bryce stepped out the front door. Ohm wouldn't be giving him a ride today, so Bryce made sure that he had his car keys and locked his door behind him.
His department would be getting a new head chief today, so he had better make a good impression.
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Ohm was sitting at his desk when Bryce walked into the police department. He didn't look up when Bryce greeted him, to Bryce's confusion.
"Is something wrong, Ohm?" His mind raced, trying to think of any reason why Ohm would be upset at him.
Ohm finally looked up, tearing his eyes from his phone screen. "What--? Oh, no, Bryce, nothing's wrong."
Bryce's confusion only grew. "Then why did you ignore me when I spoke to you?"
Ohm winced. "Yeah. . . Sorry about that, I was just thinking about something and I didn't notice you were talking to me."
"Oh, okay." The two were silent. Bryce spoke up, "What were you thinking about?"
"It's something that's been on my mind for quite some time," Ohm said, his eyes looking at the horizon.
"Really?"
Ohm nodded. "Yeah. I'd just gotten home from work, and I couldn't find the TV remote anywhere and I was too lazy to walk up and turn the TV on, so I decided to take Buddy out for a walk---God knows we both needed some exercise." They laughed at that. "We had a good time, had a lot of fun; when we got home it was pretty late, so we ate dinner and went to bed. And guess what?"
"What?" Bryce could see where the story was going, but he let Ohm continue.
"I found the TV remote under my covers! It was really uncomfortable, to be honest." He laughed softly at that; Bryce chuckled. Ohm stared at the ceiling, pensive. "But as uncomfortable as the remote was, it made me realize something: Our choices shape our future."
Bryce's eyebrows furrowed. "But, Ohm, that's something we all learn at an early age."
Ohm looked at him. "Well, yeah, but it hadn't hit me until then. If I hadn't gone and taken Buddy on a walk, I never would have had such fun just going around the streets and playing at the beach. If I'd stayed home and looked for the remote some more, I would have found it and just watched TV." He sighed deeply. "It made me stay up all night just thinking about all of my previous decisions in life. . . To be honest, I think I got too philosophical."
"Well, you certainly got deep," Bryce commented, scratching the back of his neck. They stayed silent. Bryce made up his mind and went to sit down. "Do you know who our new head chief is?"
Ohm shook his head. "Don't have a clue," he admitted.
"Morning, everyone!" Someone exclaimed cheerfully. Both Bryce and Ohm turned around, seeing a slightly below average height man just a few feet away. "I'm Officer Lui Calibre, and I'm the new head of the Bay district police department."
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Third PoV
Luke
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Luke didn't want to get up. After celebrating the arrest and successful trial against Liam Peterson, all he wanted was to sleep in and forget the world existed. Obviously, that didn't work. Groggily getting out of bed, he trudged to his bathroom to take a nice shower before he went to work.
He checked his phone for the time. 5:45 A.M. Odd, Luke didn't usually wake up at this time. He shook it off and took his shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist and some Q-tips in hand, he went to the kitchen to go make himself some coffee. Lord knew he needed it.
"Nice place ye've got there."
Luke cursed and whirled around, fists raised. Why did he leave his gun under his bed? He had another stashed in the drawer under the microwave, but that was on the other side of the kitchen. He'd never make it before he inevitably got shot.
The---freakishly---tall man leaning against his kitchen's doorframe looked amused as he looked around the kitchen.
"How---how'd you get in here?"
Luke cursed his little stutter at the start of his sentence, but tried to look less intimidated than he was. Not the easiest thing to do when you're in nothing but a towel.
The lanky man shrugged. "I'm handy with the old lock picking tools." He glanced at Luke's still raised fists. "Put 'em down, man, I've come as a bit of a diplomat, if ye will."
Luke looked at him warily as he slowly let his fists fall to his sides. "What kind of diplomat breaks into someone's house?"
The man laughed. He had a bit of an accent, Irish maybe? Luke was of Irish descent, but being born and raised in the U.S. left him with a North Carolinian accent instead. "All right, ye've got me." He stood up straight. "Luke Patterson---"
"How do you know my name?"
The man flashed an annoyed look at him. "If ye let me finish, maybe I can fucking tell ye!" He cleared his throat. "Luke Patterson, my name's Daithi, although in English it's David. I'm from the FBI and we want to recruit ye."
The kitchen was silent for all of ten seconds before--
"What?" Luke laughed. "I'm sorry, but there's no way the FBI wants to recruit me."
Daithi didn't look amused. "Oh yeah, laugh all ye want, just assume it's all a joke, why don't'cha?"
Luke stopped laughing, only giggles escaping his lips. "I'm--I'm sorry, man, but the FBI? There's no way they want someone like me." He was surprised he was taking this so well.
Daithi huffed. "Well, you're right, it's not the FBI that directly wants you to join, it's a branch of the FBI. My branch is the one that works on going in undercover and actually risk our lives to go and catch criminals. We're the branch people think of first when they hear the word 'F-B-I', but we're not really well-known."
"And you're the branch that wants to recruit me," Luke concluded, his laughter gone.
Daithi nodded. "We saw how well you can acclimate to different scenarios, like when you and your friends made a ragtag team to go and scope out the old fish factory."
Luke's eyes widened. "Wha--what're you talking about?"
Daithi looked at him, unamused. "What? You think I wasn't gonna make sure that my friends were safe?" he snorted. "Trust me, with the level of weapons they asked from me and my partner, there was no way in hell I wasn't gonna keep an eye on them."
Luke's eyes were alarmed. His thoughts raced. Then, realization dawned on him. "You---you're Jon's friend from the FBI."
Daithi tipped an imaginary hat and took a bow. "DaithiDeNogla, at yer service," he said. His eyes twnkled with mirth. "The look on your face is priceless, dude." He chuckled. His eyes became serious again. "But listen, I'm serious about recruiting you. You're good with weapons, you're levelheaded, and we need more people like you. You won't have to quit your police job, but we'll create excuses and alibis if we need to move you out of state. My partner's gonna be undercover here as your police department's new head chief."
"Why me?" Luke asked.
Daithi huffed. "I just told you, man, you're---"
"No, I know that, but are you only recruiting me? What about my friends? They're good too and they're a great team."
Daithi winced. "I want to," he said, "but we can't. Too much affection, your connection with the others will make it extremely difficult for you if, for whatever reason any of you becomes. . . Incapacitated."
Luke nodded in understanding. He didn't know how he'd react if he saw Jonathan or Moo or Ohm or Bryce get killed in action. He'd probably lose his shit.
"It was tough, but we decided that you were our best candidate. Your blond friend--Bryce--he's a little too soft and green to be extremely useful. Plus, he's more of a forensic scientist than he is an undercover agent. The brown haired one with the beard--Ohm--he was our second choice, but while he has little to no connections with family, his knowledge of weapons is from playing videogames and he's not as physically fit as you are. The last one, Brock, he's got a family now, and I don't wanna be the one to tear him away from his two month old."
Luke nodded, thoughts racing. Out of the four of them, Luke was the best option.
"Of course, even as you are now, you'd need to start training at one of our facilities, so you'd get a bit of a vacation from work---completely paid for, too," he added. "But it's your choice. You can join, or stay as ye are now."
Luke stayed silent for a minute. Daithi coughed, his cheeks a little red. "Ye might want to put some---"
"Will I be able to bring down murderers like Liam?"
Daithi blinked. "Yeah, that'll be one kind of criminal you'll be working against. Not to mention drug lords, terrorists, and---"
"I'm in."
Daithi paused before nodding. He stuck his hand out and shook Luke's hand. "Luke Patterson, welcome to the Shadow Branch of the FBI. We start training tomorrow. You'll be given paid vacation to visit your parents to cover for your training."
"All right."
"Congratulations, man," Daithi grinned. "I'll text ye the address. Remember, you can't tell anyone who you work for, especially your friends. Better they think you're safe as a cop than as an undercover agent."
Luke nodded.
"Good, now put some clothes on! You're gonna be late for work."
"Shit!"
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Third Person's PoV
Lui
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He agreed. We're gonna hang out tomorrow. -DdN
Lui didn't think Patterson would have agreed so quickly. He expected several days of annoying and wheedling the man to be the plan; it almost always was. Daithi was better at convincing people than he gave him credit for.
Great! Have fun! ;) -Lui
What's with the winky face? -DdN
Oh nothing. ;) -Lui
Lui laughed at Daithi's confusion. Sometimes, he just couldn't help but tease Daithi; it was especially funny when he had no idea what exactly Lui was talking about.
Lui frowned. Speaking of having no idea, he wondered how he was going to pull out the root system Rosaline and Liam had sown into the Los Santos police force. Their influence was decades old, but strong, one wrong move and the whole system could collapse. He'd have to be careful.
He sighed and stuck his feet on top of his desk. He didn't like being stuck in a boring role, but sometimes to get the action you had to slow play it. He needed records, all the influential connections Rosaline had within the police force, hell, maybe even in the political world! Anthony could get him those in a jiffy. He grinned. If there was anything more exciting than dethroning someone, he didn't know what it was.
God, he loved this job.
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Third Person PoV
Jonathan
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It had been a little over two months since the BBS had done any kind of corruption revealing. Jonathan was getting tired of asking Brian for updates on any big corporations with shady pasts. He wanted to get back into the cycle of things and move on. He sighed frustratedly.
"What's up?" Evan asked, concerned. "Something wrong?"
Jonathan shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he said, "I just wish we had a job to do. Funds are low and I'm feeling restless."
Evan nodded in understanding. He knew how it felt to feel like you were stuck in an endless time loop without any hope of escaping. "Don't worry, dude, Terroriser's doing the best he can."
"I know, I just wish something would come up already!" Jonathan didn't mean to complain so much, but he'd been bottling up the anxiety for nearly two months now, and he needed an outlet.
"It's okay, dude. Did you know that Lui's undercover here?"
Evan's attempt at distracting Jonathan worked. He perked up. "Really? Where? For what?"
Evan laughed at his friend's sudden change of personality. "He's working as Bay district's new head chief and he's here to root out Rosaline and Peterson's power over the Los Santos police force."
Jonathan's eyes widened. "Seriously?" He screeched. "Aww, that's awesome! I wish I was doing something like that. . ."
Evan deadpanned. He sighed. His distraction had worked, if only for a moment, but it seemed to have left Jonathan more anxious than before.
Jonathan's phone vibrated, interrupting his self-woe. He took it out, and grinned.
"Hey, Vanoss?"
Evan looked up at the mention of his gamer tag. "Yeah?"
Jonathan's grin widened. "How do you feel about Wells Fargo?"
Evan took in Jonathan, no, Delirious's, crazy smile and grinned back. "I'll call everybody up on the group chat."
Jonathan grinned excitedly. The BBS was back from their two month hiatus.