#Arc: Los Santos Freezing

[project-rebirth]

Chapter 1: Foreign City — The_Frozen_Kingdom.

@ofauris​ liked for a Los Santos Freezing Arc Starter!

Cold.

That was the first feeling that came to mind when Kamijou Touma woke up.

It was currently March 12, a time where colder weather was on its way of leaving in the wake of spring, so it was expected to be cold. Just because spring was around the corner did not mean the weather would instantly change. Then again, the climate of Earth had become rather hectic in recent times, so it all boiled down to location and other factors really.

"Huh...?"

Only there was something very wrong here for a number of reasons.

Firstly, After the whole situation with Agnese Sanctis, he was in the usual hospital that was run by a certain frog Faced Doctor in Academy City. Granted, his injuries were not as severe as they normally would have been he would have expected to be waking up in that hospital after everything was said and done.

He did not wake up in a hospital or a bed of any sort.

Instead, Kamijou found himself waking up in the middle of the street, something that would have made him gone pale when he realized he could have been run over, but was surprised to learn that no cars had come through here yet.

It was cold.

He was in a major city of sorts, of which he thought was Academy City when waking up, but upon seeing the layout of the streets and buildings, he quickly realized that was not the case at all.

The city looked familiar - he recognized it from pictures, news footage, and movies, the name immediately came to him making him realize where he was.

This was Los Santos.

It was more evident when taking the famous Vinewood sign over in the distance into consideration.

Kamijou had no idea how in the world he got here, but that fact in itself wasn't the only bizarre thing about this situation.

Normally, Los Santos was warm all year around from what Kamijou remembered. It was located on the western cost of the United States, where weather was typically warmer in general, even during the winter. That did not mean that it never got chilly, but warmer than average weather was expected around this time of year.

But this was abnormal.

It was freezing.

It seemed to be morning and the sky was a very dull gray, with cloudy overcast, but he was surprised it wasn't snowing at this point. he could tell there was a little bit of ice on the ground so he had to be careful not to slip on it.

But the oddities didn't stop there.

The streets were completely empty. There were no cars as far as he could tell, at least none that were driving, and there were no people walking around in the streets either. Kamijou thought people were inside their homes to avoid going out in this weather, but that wouldn't make sense. Even in harsh weather conditions like snow storms, people would still be out and about, if not on foot then at least in their own vehicles. Not to mention businesses would still be open.

But there was none of that. It was as if the city had been completely abandoned.

"H-Hello?! Is anyone out there?!"

Kamijou started walking around, calling out for anyone that was around in the area to get some confirmation of a human presence. He was speaking japanese so he doubted any locals would understand him, but him calling out in this strange situation was better than sitting around waiting for someone to arrive. Even if they didn't understand him, they might react to his voice regardless.

he tried calling out a few more times, but no one seemed to respond.

He had no idea what was going on. Why was Kamijou in Los Santos? Why was the weather here so cold? And what happened to the people here?

He had no idea, but for the time being, his priority was to try and find away back to Japan, specifically Academy City.

“O-Of course it would end up this way... only this Kamijou-san would be unlucky enough to end up in a city in another country, with bizarre conditions like this. How am I even going to get on a flight back to Academy City? Do I have my passport with me?”

[vivaciouswordsmith]

new chapter

Dug around found some motivation to finish Chapter 12 of Four-Legged Fiend a little faster this time around. This should kickstart the last arc of this particular fic, and, if/when I feel like it later, I might do the occasional oneshot in this universe. Haven’t decided yet.

As always, you can read it here or beneath the cut. Enjoy! :D

Dawn broke quietly enough over Los Santos. 

Peachy-orange light crested over the horizon. The last of the nightly noises faded into the soft swishing of the few trees scattered over the city. Every now and then a car would zoom down the highway, but for the most part the streets were deserted. The first waves of heat had just started to blow in from the desert.

Trouble first started brewing in San Andreas. A helicopter stuttered to life in the distant airfield, and that was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the immediate strain of metal on metal screeching a minute after the chopper sounds began. Most residents were wise enough to stay in their houses, but a few brave souls dared to venture onto their porches and look toward the runway.

For those jaded toward the sight of everyday crime, this was something else.

Bit by bit, a cargobob rose into the air. An enormous tank dangled from its taut hook. Several chains and ropes wrapped around the hook and the tank to keep it from snapping. A green star had been scrawled onto both sides of the tank, though the spray paint had run and muddled the image quite a bit. It swayed this way and that, and the cargobob dropped a few feet before resuming its ascent.

Once it reached a certain point in the sky, the window turned in the direction of Los Santos, tilted forward and took off like an obese albatross. The tank wobbled beneath the cargobob, and everyone in sight dived for the safety of their houses. Thankfully, the odd combo paid no heed to the ragtag streets of San Andreas and zoomed straight for Los Santos.

Inside the gunner’s turret, Jeremy hung on for dear life. His gloves had long since been abandoned, and his hand clamped his Stetson to his head. Wind gusted around the tank, and with every list Jeremy was sure he was about to lose his breakfast. He was freezing cold yet sweating bullets while his mad creation made its way to Los Santos. Slowly he dipped back down into the turret and let his forehead rest against the metal.

His earpiece buzzed. “You okay in there, Jeremy?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, just, you know, a little airsick.”

The tank swayed again, and Jeremy’s palms went clammy. He sank even further into the turret and let his head rest against his knees. His stomach rolled inside of him, and if the tank kept rocking like this, the turret would soon get a brand new paint job.

“We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” said Jack. “Just hold on, okay?”

“I’ll get right on that, Jack.”

“Holy shit, this is awesome!” said Michael. The tanks inner mechanisms whirred, and the tank moved again. “D’you think we can blow up the fucking Vinewood sign with this baby?”

“At the moment, we’re focusing on the fuckheads who wronged us, plus I’d rather have the LSPD called on us later rather than sooner,” said Geoff. “But, you have given me an excellent idea for our anniversary party…”

“So far, you’re good,” said Gavin. His voice was tinnier and much harder to hear. “Surprisingly, nobody’s called the police in San Andreas yet. Might not’ve thought anything of us.”

“They have police in San Andreas?” asked Geoff.

“Man, Gav, you should fucking see this! We look fucking awesome!”

“Can’t exactly do my damn job in a cargobob, now can I?” said Gavin.

That was pretty accurate. Gavin needed to watch the LSPD lines, as well as their unsuspecting foes, and make sure nobody ruined the party before it even got started. Less practically, Gavin had a notoriously weak stomach, and nobody wanted to be barfed on. So he was camped out in a fake cleaner’s van with his equipment, and carefully watched for any sign of danger. Or as carefully as Gavin ever watched anything, he supposed.

“I’m sure you’ll find some livestream somewhere,” said Geoff.

“I’ll just watch it on Weazel News later.” A slurp reverberated in their ears. “Sorry. Anyway, nobody’s onto you yet. Still, I’d hurry up, if I were you.”

“Yeah, tell us something we don’t know, dumbass,” said Michael.

“No, he’s got us,” said Geoff. “We were just going to sit around and eat meat pies until the LSPD caught us with our fucking pants down, but your idea sounds way better, Gavin.”

“All right. Cool it.” Gavin sulked for a few seconds. “You okay, Jeremy? You’re breathing awfully hard.”

“Just. You know. Airsickness. Trying not to throw up. That sort of thing,” said Jeremy.

“He literally just said he was airsick, Gavin,” said Jack.

“Well, uh, d’you have any ginger or something? Ginger’s good for seasickness.”

“Oh, yeah, let me just check my portable fucking, my portable, uh, medicine chest for my fucking ginger! Of course I don’t have ginger! Why would I have ginger? I’m in a fucking tank!”

Nobody spoke for a while. “Maybe it’s just stress,” Michael finally said.

“Stressed? Why would I be stressed? I’m in a tank that’s attached to a helicopter with a fucking rope dangling hundreds of feet above the ground! That’s not stressful at all!”

“Stress,” said Michael.

“Definitely stress,” said Jack.

“C’mon, Li’l J, this is your plan!” said Gavin.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Jeremy.

“Don’t worry,” said Geoff for the umpteenth time. “If we pull this off, you’ll be a goddamn hero!”

“Geoff’s right. You got this. So, just, you know, keep breathing and try not to throw up,” said Jack.

“Thanks, Jack. That’s really helpful.”

Still, Jeremy’s stomach managed to settle more or less in its rightful place. He took a few deep breaths and focused on trying to make his arms and legs stop trembling. As soon as he felt comfortable, he pulled himself back up and grabbed the handles on the base of the machine gun. The world still rushed past in a fantastic blur of colors, but he managed to focus on the rapidly approaching Los Santos city limits. His hat tried to fly away again, but he pinned it down once more.

“Okay, we’re coming up on the first location!” said Jack. “Everybody get ready!”

“You’re still good!” said Gavin. “I’ve got your back, lads, don’t worry!”

“Let’s fucking do this!” said Michael.

Jeremy grabbed the gun and swung it around. Their pace slowed, and beneath them, a rundown little strip mall formed out of the mess of colors. From this distance, Jeremy couldn’t tell if there were any legitimate businesses there, but a mass of cars sat behind the largest building of the bunch. He hoped this was the right place, otherwise this could earn them a shitton of negative attention.

Well, more than they’d earn normally, at any rate.

“Okay, Michael! You should have a clear shot!”

“About fucking time!”

The turret swiveled around. Jeremy covered his ears, and Michael fired.

Too fast for the eye to follow, the tank shell whipped through the air and exploded against the beige brick. Yellowy-orange flames erupted and spread over the complex in a matter of moments. A swarm of people flooded the parking lot in the seconds that followed. Many headed for their cars, but a mass formed outside the destroyed base. Bullets started pinging off the tank and the cargobob.

“Guys, I need you to take care of this!” said Jack.

“On it!” Jeremy aimed down at the mass and let it rip. He wasn’t expecting the kickback, and for a few moments, the shots went wild. Eventually, his hands went numb, and he pointed it back down at the assembled gang. Splashes of red burst over the asphalt. Men dropped like flies. Michael shot at them, and the fire tore the rest of the group to shreds.

“Keep it up, boys! Let’s teach ‘em what it means to fuck with the Fakes!”

“Wow, that looks so cool!” said Gavin. “Damn, they need to invest in better security cameras. That’s the third one what’s been fried.”

“How’re we doing, Gav?”

“Thankfully, the gang’s not aware of what you’re doing yet, but the LSPD is, well, you know, they did hear the shooting and the tank firing. You need to get moving if you want to get to the other location before the cops send out the helicopters.”

“This place is pretty fucked up anyway. Okay, Jack, let’s get the other one!”

Jeremy cheered, Michael let out a ‘Yeah!’ and they were on their way. Jeremy had finally adjusted to the swaying, and was even starting to enjoy himself. The sun had risen fully above the horizon now, and the heat occasionally brushed over his skin. His earlier worries were tamped down for the time being, swallowed by the rush of adrenaline pounding in his veins.

It would be some time before they reached the second location in uptown Los Santos, so he settled down and watched their warped reflection in the windows of the skyscrapers. He couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the dumbfounded faces of the office workers inside. Most just sat, mouths open wide, and stared at the awesome sight before them. Jeremy grinned. This had to look like something out of a cartoon.

In any case, they’d be talking about this for years to come.

“This is so fucking cool!” Michael said. “I can’t wait to see this on the news!”

“S’already on the news, Michael.”

“Really?” asked Jeremy. “I don’t see any news choppers or anything.”

“It’s mostly just phone pictures and videos, but everyone’s talking about it.”

“Uh, that…that might not be good,” said Jack. “Didn’t we not want attention yet?”

“We can’t exactly hide, Jack! We’re in a tank attached to a goddamn helicopter! We’re not a fucking stealth force!”

“Still, you guys need to act fast. There’s at least half a dozen choppers headed your way.”

“And you’re telling us this now, Gavin?!”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Michael scoffed. The main cannon spun around a few times and settled on the horizon. “I’ll fuck ‘em all up.”

“Yeah, keep your eyes peeled down there.”

In what felt like seconds, the first few LSPD choppers appeared in the sky and made a beeline for them. Jeremy closed one eye and fired. A burst of flame sprung from one of the helicopter’s rotors. It careened through the air like a Catherine wheel, slammed into a building and crashed to the ground. He swiveled around and pinged a couple shots off the others, but it wasn’t nearly enough to bring them down.

“Michael!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!” The tank swung around, and a shot thundered through the air. It ripped the rotors clean off one chopper and sent it crashing into another one. Both of them smashed into fiery shrapnel on the pavement below.

“Good job guys! Now fucking keep going! We’re almost there!” Geoff’s shouts tailed off into crackles. “Nobody fucks with the Fake AH Crew!”

“Is that it down there?” Jeremy asked. He pointed down at a skeletal structure tucked away amidst the various and sundry buildings. “Looks like the picture, right?”

“You know the drill. Light it up, boys.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of the choppers, Michael! Don’t worry!”

“I’m not!” The cannon boomed again. Metal rebar screeched and wailed. An entire corner of the building sagged. “Shit, that was awesome! Look at it go!”

“Here they come!”

A wave of men poured out of the building, and once again, bullets ricocheted off the sides of the tank and cargobob. One whizzed right by Jeremy’s cheek and put a dent in the metal by his head. He scoffed and focused on the approaching choppers. Michael’s cannon boomed again, and bodies flew left and right. Fire licked up the building’s skeleton. The topmost floor sagged like a deflating soufflé, and what few men remained turned and fled from the rain of flaming debris.

“You better run!” Geoff yelled. “Nobody fucks with the Fakes!”

“Guys? You might want to leg it! The LSPD’s, uh, well, they’re calling their SWAT guys, and, uh, I think the military might be mobilizing!”

“Okay, we’re moving, don’t worry!” Jack turned the cargobob around, too slowly for anyone’s liking.

Just then, a flash of yellowy light emanated from the sagging top floor. Something small and fast zipped through the air, a trail of dark smoke marking its rapid flight. Jeremy opened his mouth, either to scream or shout a warning, but it was already far too late. It hit the back of the chopper and exploded. Plumes of black smoke shot from the back rotor, and the entire shebang spun out of control.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck, what the fuck?!”

“There was a guy in the fucking building with a fucking rocket launcher! How did nobody see that?!” asked Jack.

“I don’t have fucking telescopes for eyes, Jack!”

Jeremy wondered how the fuck they all could yell and screech when the entire world spun around them. The sky and ground were switching places so rapidly his balance had been thrown in seconds, and the nausea returned with a vengeance. He simultaneously dangled from his handholds and sunk back down into his gunnery, and God was it messing with him.

Finally, when the smoking back rotor snapped off and flew in four different directions, some sense of self-preservation ignited in Jeremy’s brain, and he leaped away from the tank. Seconds later, Geoff’s hastily blurted “Bail! Bail! Fucking bail!” rang out over the comms. Jeremy watched both him and Jack leap out of the cockpit and fling themselves away from the spinning mess. He waited with bated breath, but the last member did not emerge.

“Michael?!” he finally called.

“My fucking straps caught on the fucking…thing! I can’t…hold on…I think I got it!”

Moments later, Michael scrambled out of the tank and jumped into the ether. At that same moment, the back rotor slammed into a nearby building, and the chain holding the tank-bob combo together snapped. The tank dropped like a stone. Its treads tore through the glass and bounced off the third or fourth floor. The cannon snapped off, spiraled away, and tore right into Michael’s back. His yell of pain cut short, and he went limp. Blood spiraled away from him and seemed to fly up into the air.

Jeremy’s heart stopped for a moment.

“Michael? Michael? Are you okay? Michael!”

“What? What’s wrong? What happened to Michael?! Michael? Michael, boi, are you all right?” Panic quickly overtook Gavin’s voice, and the sound of keys clacking quickly filled Jeremy’s ears. “Oh, God!”

“What’s going on over there? What happened to Michael?” asked Jack.

“I’ll figure something out! Don’t worry, I’ll…I’ll fix this!”

Having volunteered himself, Jeremy angled his body and slowly cut through the air. His time was short; in mere moments, it would be too late and both he and Michael would be little more than meat puddles. A quick once-over of Michael proved his fears to be well founded. The cannon had ripped his parachute to shreds and cut their demoman to his backbone. Jeremy swallowed, wrapped his left arm tightly around Michael, shut his eyes, and pulled his ripcord.

He nearly cried when the straps yanked upwards and dug into his groin, but, more importantly, his descent slowed just enough for him and Michael to hit the ground not quite hard enough to die. He scrambled to escape the rainbow chute and hefted Michael onto his own back before taking stock of his surroundings. Unfortunately, at the moment, he didn’t recognize this part of Los Santos, and he had more pressing matters at hand.

“Okay, we’re down, but Michael’s really hurt, and I have no idea where we are!”

“We’ve got a car, we’ll come find you!” said Jack.

Jeremy shook his head. “Just, just, just try to get away, alright? I’ll, uh, fuck!” An entire squadron of police cars rocketed around the corner, and Jeremy took cover behind a shrubbery. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Jeremy, there’s debris falling, you need to fucking get out of there!” yelled Jack.

“Fuck me!” He leaped out from cover and ran for the street. “Gavin, how quickly can you get over here?!”

“Larry’s driving us now! Go faster, for God’s sake, Larry!” The driver’s reply was inaudible. “Then bloody burn the damn thing out! Michael’s life depends on it, you bell-end!”

Jeremy drew his micro-SMG and checked the clip. “I can try to hold out here, but I don’t know how long I can last carrying Michael!”

“We’ll be there in five minutes tops, I promise! Find someplace nearby to hide out in and for God’s sake, don’t die!”

“Easy for you to say,” he said, and settled down behind a waist-high granite wall. Michael slumped to the ground. Jeremy’s heart sank at the sight of blood already pooling around him. He peeked out at the approaching cops and fired a warning burst in their direction. Several windshields shattered, and a few blue bodies went down, but the onslaught continued to approach. He checked his clip, patted Michael’s shoulder, and settled in to wait.

“We’re here!” Gavin yelled, and Jeremy watched an obnoxious purple LWB swing around the corner and come to a screeching halt beside the water fountain. “Get in, get in, get in!”

Jeremy scooped Michael up over his shoulder and bolted. Bullets whizzed around him, smashed into pavement and plantlife, nicked his clothing and put a hole in his hat, but miraculously he came out unwounded. The SUV’s door slid open, and he threw himself inside. Gavin pulled him and Michael in, and the moment his feet cleared the door, they were off.

“Okay, me’n Michael are with Gavin!” he said. “Jack, what about you and Geoff!”

“I think we’ll be okay!” Jack said. “Geoff’s parachute got clipped by a light pole and he’s a bit stunned, but he’ll recover.”

“Where’re we going?” Gavin asked. His hands fluttered over Michael’s back. All the color had long since drained from his face. “The penthouse?”

“Not right now, we can’t! Not unless we want to lead the cops to our fucking doorstep!”

“What about Mount Chilead? Or San Andreas? Someplace rural, where the cops have a harder time finding us?” said Jeremy.

“Or we can just fucking pay Lester to get some heat off our backs.” A small sigh of relief escaped Jeremy and Gavin upon hearing their boss’s voice. “It’s not like we’re poor.”

“I don’t like him though,” said Gavin.

“Neither do I, but it’s better than squatting in that fuckhole all week long. Plus we’re in need of some goddamn medical attention.”

“Okay. I’m calling him now,” said Jack. “Everyone hang tight.”

They drove through the chaos for what felt like hours. Every time another cop showed up, it meant diverting down a tight alleyway, or dodging into the underground tunnels, and Jeremy didn’t know how much longer they could last. Gavin had done his best to patch up Michael with what he had lying around, but even he knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep him alive. His hands gleamed scarlet in the afternoon light.

“We’re clear,” said Jack.

Jeremy let out a long, deep breath and collapsed into the upholstered seat. His head dropped into his lap. Gavin let out an incomprehensible chirp noise.

“Let’s go home, then,” said Geoff.

By the time they managed to pull into the garage, Jeremy felt like he hadn’t slept in a month. His entire body shook and trembled, and his eyes were simultaneously too heavy and glued wide open. The tap-tap-tap of his heart in his chest felt too fast and fluttery, and he was hungry enough to eat an entire state’s worth of cheeseburgers. God, he’d sleep well tonight.

At least, that was what he thought.

The door to the penthouse was a welcome sight, and Geoff flung it open and sank onto the couch.

“Christ, I need a drink,” he said.

Jeremy carefully sat down next to him. “Do…you think Michael…you think he’ll be okay?”

Geoff shrugged. “I hope so. We’ll just have to leave it to Caleb and whoever he can round up.”

Jeremy nodded, though his heart wasn’t quite in it. The look on the crew doctor’s face when he saw Michael’s injury would haunt him for a good long while, and he’d quickly bundled Michael into his backdoor practice and out of sight. Gavin elected to stay with him until he learned what his condition was, so that left Jeremy, Jack and Geoff to return to the penthouse and collect their thoughts.

“Matt? Matt! Matt Bragg, get your ass over here!” Geoff inclined his head and snapped his fingers a few times. “You’d better not be drinking all my good shit.”

“Where the fuck could he be, anyway? And Trevor, for that matter?” Jack came out of the kitchen and sat down on Geoff’s other side. He set three bottles of water and a few bags of pretzels down on the coffee table and set about checking Geoff’s head. “The penthouse is big, but it’s not that fucking big.”

“Uh…follow up question,” said Jeremy. “Where’s Ryan?” Geoff and Jack both looked at him. “He should have pounced on us the moment we came in here, right?”

“That…yeah, that’s…that’s not right. That’s not right at all.” Jack stood back up and spun around in place. “Ryan? Ryan, we’re home!”

A figure appeared on one of the upper floors. Their hands instinctively flashed to their guns.

“Hey, don’t shoot! It’s, uh, it’s just me.”

Trevor moved into the light and stepped down the stairs. He was paler than normal, and for once, all trace of cockiness had gone. He smoothed the front of his shirt and tugged on his lapels, ran a hand through his hair and bounced on the heels of his feet.

“Trevor? What the fuck’s going on? Where’s Matt? Where’s Ryan?” Jack moved right up into Trevor’s personal space and loomed over him. “Something is definitely wrong here.”

“Uh…now…there’s no need to be upset…but, uh, but, I, uh, I have some, uh, I have bad news.” Trevor lifted his hands up and stepped away from Jack. “Really bad news.”

“You have five seconds to-”

“I’m telling you already! Jesus!” He stepped back again and bit his lip. “We were watching what was happening on the news, okay? It was the only way we could get Ryan to stop howling and tearing shit up! It was okay for a while, but then…” Trevor swallowed and looked up at the ceiling. “We saw the chopper crash, and the Weazel News guys were tracking you guys as you fell, and…he went insane. Just…completely feral. Matt and I tried to stop him, but he, well, he…” Trevor stopped talking and pointed at the wall.

“What? What did he do?” Geoff had stood at this time, and walked over to the wall in question. “Trevor, there’s nothing over here! The fuck are you pointing at?!”

Jeremy’s entire body went cold when his eyes found what Trevor pointed out. He moved forward, brushed past Geoff, and let his fingers rest on the shiny chrome drawer in the wall. “Geoff, please tell me this is just a trash can and not what I think it is.”

Geoff snorted. “A trash can? We’re not fucking peasants, it’s a fucking…garbage…chute…” His voice trailed off. “You don’t seriously think…”

Jeremy pointed to the door. Several long scratches covered the door, and a faint set of teeth marks dotted the once pristine handle. When he looked more closely, he saw several black hairs caught between the door and its lip.

“He couldn’t have!” Jack ran forward and yanked the door open, nearly clipping the top of Jeremy’s head. “It’s a fucking five hundred foot drop at ninety fucking degrees, he’d die!”

“We tried to stop him!” Trevor looked between Jack and Geoff. Something desperate shone in his eyes. “I swear to fucking God himself we tried to stop him! But we couldn’t! He was gone before we could get a good grip on him!”

Sirens wailed far off in the distance. A clock ticked somewhere upstairs. Jeremy felt sweat trickle down his forehead and collect in the collar of his shirt. He glanced over at Jack and Geoff. Both of them had gone ghostly white and looked like a stiff breeze would knock them on their asses. The shake had returned to his limbs, and he sank down against the wall.

“You’re telling me…Ryan…a fucking wolf…outsmarted you and Matt and managed to slide down the garbage chute to his death?” Jeremy shrank back against the wall and averted his eyes from Jack’s stone-cold face. Even though he wasn’t on the receiving end of the diatribe, the words still struck him across the face. “And where the fuck is Matt right now?”

“He’s, uh, he’s looking for Ryan.” Trevor pulled out his phone and checked it. “He didn’t find him in the dumpsters, so, uh, maybe he’s okay.”

“Did Matt even fucking look through the dumpsters?! He…he could be buried in them!”

“He did! Or, he says he did.”

“Uh…” Jeremy cleared his throat and tried again. “I could, you know, uh, try to look for him. Outside, I mean.”

“Go, then.” Geoff cracked his knuckles and glowered at Trevor. He averted his eyes and shrank down into himself. “Trevor, you motherfucker…”

Jeremy got up and walked out before watching the results of that particular confrontation. His muscles burned, and the wobbliness had not abated, but he pushed himself forward and into the elevator. Once it had started its descent, he collapsed onto the floor and let his head sink into his lap.

First the suicidal rocket launcher guy, then the crash, and now Ryan had run away? God, his meteoric entrance into the main six was less ‘awesome shooting star’ and a little more ‘wiping out the dinosaurs’ level of greatness. He hadn’t intended this, how could he have? He’d just wanted to impress the Fakes. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He didn’t want Michael to get hurt. He hadn’t wanted Ryan to run away.

Even though he knew he was stupid, he couldn’t stop the hot tears burning in the corners of his eyes and slowly leaking down either side of his face.

[project-rebirth]

Starter Call for Los Santos Freezing Arc