#money inc x vice city AU

[luxurysystems]

No time to be injured when Ted needs you for a job 💼🩸

[luxurysystems]

|| Coffee, tea or me, baby? Touché au lait. // My opening line might be a bit passé. ||

[luxurysystems]

we are so back 🎯

[luxurysystems]

Carte Blanche attitude...

And he isn't even French, he's just a PLAYBOY.

[luxurysystems]

Take the shot, Irwin.

[luxurysystems]

Irwin before his life of crime in the Vice City AU

"The Destroyer"

[Money Inc. x Vice City Au- 1391 words]

Synopsis: Irwin's life was planned out: work at the same accounting firm in upstate NY for most of his adult life, retire in his mid-60s , enjoy his pension, die quietly and hope to be in St. Peter's book of names when he steps into the afterlife. By joining Mr.B's firm right out of college, he was hoping to get a leg up on the first part of his plan. Little did Irwin know at the time that his boss had other plans for the youngster...

[Little Havana, Vice City, 9 a.m.- Outside of the Printworks factory]

"Shoot him, c'mon kid! We haven't got all day!"

Sitting in Ted's off-white Admiral, Irwin had a moment to take a breather. Listening to Ted chat his mouth off so early in the morning was the catalyst needed to drum up a headache right between Irwin's eyes.

"God, I need to smoke..."

He was still technically working— Ted just happened to step inside to talk with the owner, Earnest Kelly, to iron out some details. You could call "stay inside the car so that it doesn't get jacked" Irwin's portion of the job. Starting to get bored with the talk radio topic that was on, Irwin reached towards the backseat to retrieve his briefcase; there must be something in there that he could review to keep his mind occupied.

Opening up revealed his usual wares:

glasses case

a pack of Marlboros

His favorite zippo lighter- it was quite old, with scratches on the black paint exposing the metal underneath. There were initials engraved near the bottom that read: "D.B"

A Colt M1911 Pistol + extra mags

Packed light today. Well shit, nothing to look over. He sighed, and grabbed the pack of cigarettes intent on repacking them by smacking the top, just to keep his hands busy. Or he could-- no--

The last time he tried to smoke in Ted's car, the blonde man wouldn't shut the hell up about "the smoke ruining the resale value", so Irwin had to threaten to shoot him as a friendly "yeah ok, I got it."

Sinking into his seat, he started to shake the cigarette box, striking it against the palm of his hand....

[ Upstate NY- 1978]

Richard Beyer ran a corner accounting firm that he built from the ground up on his own, according to Irwin. "Mr.B", they called him; few knew or referred to his actual name. He was ruthless, no nonsense- a man who by all accounts earned and demanded respect wherever he went. Mr. B did a damn fine job, as well. He was a complete whiz with numbers, barely needing a calculator when he worked. While staring at a form, he could tell you all of the adjusted amounts as he was handing it back to you. His business was a well-oiled machine free of blemishes, which intimidated the then 20-something Irwin...

The first thing Irwin noticed after accepting the job as Mr.B's assistant was the cloud of smoke that would fog up the room as they worked. Mr.B was THE definition of a chainsmoker.

"Helps me think." The man coughed and smiled through crooked teeth. "I see."

Irwin wasn't a smoker during his time with Mr.B, at least not when he first started. He sure as hell wasn't going to complain to his boss about how he found it difficult to breathe sometimes- Irwin was just happy to have a job. Although, Irwin didn't really like how the smoke would linger in his long, curly hair... He did eventually learn to..."appreciate" the smell as his 1st year work anniversary was creeping up.

One day as the two were working, Mr.B's phone rang -once- then it stopped, prompting the men to look at the phone together. 5 seconds passed and then the phone rang again, -once-, then the same thing happened afterwards- silence. Mr. B's eyes never left the red rotary phone; Irwin noticed this as his eyes traveled from the phone to his boss' face.

The phone rang once more- this time ringing out normally.

"I better take this." Mr. B said in a monotone voice, picking up the receiver. "S-sure, sir."

The phone call was brief. Irwin could only make out a few words: "Dicky", "a job", and strangely, "...Destroyer."

"Starting to get a little too old for this, y'know. But, shit, I'll see what I can do."

Once Mr. B placed the receiver back, Irwin quickly turned his attention over to his papers to make it look like he wasn't trying to eavesdrop on his boss.

"Kid..." He started. "Put that away. It's time I bring you along with me."

Irwin found himself in the woods, miles away from the office, with Mr. B beating the living shit out of some poor guy in a tattered suit. Something about "ratting on someone important, biting the hand that feeds you, you ungrateful shit."

Irwin couldn't believe his eyes- his boss turned this poor guy's face into a bloody pulp with his fists- he never knew his boss was that strong, or that he was a hitman....

Not wanting to get in the way and draw attention to himself, all Irwin could do was stand there, shovel in hand...his palms raw from being ordered to dig a hole fit enough to hide a body.....

"p--please!!" The pitiful man begged, spitting blood as he enunciated words. "I know nothing, honest, I d-didn't snitch on nobody!!"

The man was on his knees practically begging the old accountant for mercy. Mr. B, with a strange finesse, took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew the smoke in the guy's eyes, blinding him....insult to mass injury.

"Those words don't mean nothing to me, pal. It's just business."

With a swift uppercut, Mr. B sent the man flying backwards into the freshly dug dirt hole. The man at this point was incoherently babbling, wailing, making sounds that could only mean death was around the corner...sounds that would haunt Irwin's ears for a long time.

Digging into his back pocket, Mr. B threw Irwin a pistol, which he clumsily caught.

"Alrighty kid, right between the eyes, I know you can do it." "Sir---?? I---I-" Irwin stammered, fully in flight or fight mode. "Shoot him, c'mon kid! We haven't got all day!"

Something possessed Irwin that day he took that man's life. Maybe it was the man's blood that splattered on his face, clothes, his hands...

Irwin watched as the man drew his last breath, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

What drove him to do it? Was it really the fear of his boss that caused him to pull the trigger? Was Irwin really that predisposed to blindly following orders? Time was a blur; he found himself shoveling dirt, making sure to cover the corpse that was starting to stink. Irwin didn't feel like he was in control of his body-autopilot- his brain refused to register anything except the stench of the dead man's body, making his stomach turn. Mr. B took notice of his protege's change in behavior. He took out another cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it using his signature black zippo lighter that he always took with him.

"Irwin, take it." He said, offering the lit cigarette to the young man. "Out here, it'll help you concentrate, masks the smell, too. Don't make it a habit..."

Without hesitation, Irwin took it and started puffing. The smoke helped obscure the dead man's face long enough for the dirt to fully mask it. One last shovel full of earth and he was gone. Out of sight...

"Good job, kid. You're a natural."

Irwin reminisced on those words and how his 8 years in "the business" was coming up. He wasn't too sure if Mr.B would be proud of who he turned out to be, God bless him...that old bastard, Irwin was certain he'd see him again in Hell.

Maybe he'd share that tidbid with Ted and they'd celebrate at the Malibu later. Maybe. Er-- on second thought, no. Ah fuck it, Irwin could use an old fashioned, what better excuse for the occasional cocktail than this?

"H...Hey are you smoking??" Ted banged on the roof of his car, snapping Irwin back into reality. "Fucker, put that OUT, goddamn it."

Shoot, autopilot seemed to take over again as Irwin didn't register for a moment that he was smoking.

"Sorry." Irwin replied as he put the cigarette out on his tongue, flicking it out the window. "Just really needed it."

Ted started the car and rolled down all of the windows trying to air out the vehicle, blasting the AC to help speed up the process.

"Yeah well, ugh whatever. Listen, we've got some work to do, hope you packed--"

"I always have it on me."

[x]

[luxurysystems]

"Christ, FINE, you can smoke, just get inside!!"

Secret option: While the car is moving at dangerous speeds, simply hang out on the passenger side window until Ted concedes :) @tombstoney

[luxurysystems]

Hi lux, sorry this is so out of nowhere....! I was listening to some tunes the other day and heard the song Gonna Serve Somebody by Bob Dylan... it was giving me major vice city au energy, just big money inc vibes in general, thought u might get some ideers from it :3c mwah

This is the song that plays when Ted finds out that Irwin is sent to kill him.

Playing off of this.

Ted knows he's fucked if he allows the week to go by without doing anything. He paces around his penthouse suite...god, fuck, his old employer is not fucking around if he sent him...

Ted gets a taste of what's to come. An off-white Sentinel XS is seen as soon as Ted gets up in the morning. It's parked in the same spot, windows are tinted, and it leaves at around 8 a.m. Rain or shine— it doesn't matter.

Ted feels the paranoia set in when he leaves his place each morning to head to the Colonel's yacht. He's heard of the guy, sure, but Ted finds himself looking over his shoulder one too many times for it to just be a gut feeling gone awry. It has to be...that guy.

Think, man, think!! You've gotten *this* far without any problems...

He hates the feeling of eyes on him, and there's four of them beaming in his direction.

One day, Ted catches his would-be killer mess up. Ted spots him getting out of his car and heading into the V.A.J Finance building. Good looking guy, tall, glasses, suspenders? What the hell... no matter, Ted's gets a visual, a location...time to work the charm, and fast.

"Well if this big goon is swayed by money, I can do one better." Ted thinks as he picks out a Rolex at the Vice Point jewelers.

One day, and one day soon, Ted will pay that overgrown accountant a visit and place that Rolex on his desk. If he thinks that Ted scares easily, the expensive watch says otherwise. That accountant will either have to kill him or serve him by the end of the week...

Fingers crossed for the latter...

[luxurysystems]

Liberty City, 2008. 20 years after Irwin and Ted parted ways.

[luxurysystems]

...N O W L O A D I N G....📼

Money Inc. x GTA: Vice City AU headcanons- IRS

Codename/Alias: The Kangal. The Kangal is a breed of dog renowned for its protectiveness and shepherding qualities, but must importantly, the Kangal is feared for having the strongest bite force. Ted lovingly gives Irwin this nickname. Initially hesitant in being likened to a guard dog, Irwin starts to warm up to it...

Irwin, by day, works as an accountant in Downtown Vice City's business sector (mainland). At night, he works as a hitman/bounty hunter, accepting jobs from clients on both the Mainland and Beach/Nightlife area. Most of his clients come from the more affluent sections of the city. Once he starts working with Ted exclusively, he stops all contract work but still keeps his job as an accountant.

Famed (or infamous, depending on who you ask) for having an amazing work ethic in both jobs.

His last contracted bounty job didn't go as planned.... (x) (x)

Used to have a mullet; cuts it off once he joins Ted.

His original kit included the following: Col .45 (handgun), Ithaca 37/Chromed Shotgun, and his trusty Remington Model 700 (sniper rifle).

Ted gifts him with more weaponry, specifically a submachine gun (MP5), and an AR (the M4)-- for those tougher jobs.

Favorite radio stations: Emotion 98.3, VROCK, and VCPR. He enjoys listening to talk radio on the way to work.

Favorite vehicles: PCJ-600 and the Sentinel XS

His apartment is located in Vice Point (away from the mainland/downtown area). Although his apartment is a mere minutes away from the prolific Malibu Club, he prefers quiet nights at home watching Yuppie and the Alien or Just the Five of Us.

Doesn't smoke during the day, only when he's on the job--especially if there's a lot of waiting. It calms him down, allegedly.

After work, you can catch Irwin at Umberto Robina's cafe in Little Havana enjoying a coffee. Considers Umberto a friend and likewise Umberto considers Irwin a real man with "big cojones."

"Balances" the books for Ted's other money laundering businesses.

He also balances Ted's boisterous personality-- Irwin is very cool, calm, and collected. The poster child for the strong, silent type.

Has been known to crack a smile at times-- Ted can vouch for it.

During a meet up, Irwin acts as Ted's back-up if things go south. He is often seen carrying a briefcase- filled with either money or "goods."

If Ted insists on going to a meet-up alone, that doesn't necessarily mean that Irwin isn't there. You may not be able to see him, but he can see you....

Is a superior marksman. One shot to kill if necessary, never maim- he makes sure all of his shots are clean. If someone gives Ted a hard time, Irwin gives them a corpse worthy of a closed casket funeral.

Often refuses Ted's other lavish gifts like expensive suits, cologne, watches, etc. Will take the gifts after much insistence, but will be shy to use or wear them. Plus, Irwin feels like if he does wear any of Ted's gifts at his day job, he'd stick out like a sore thumb. What's an accountant doing with a $75,000 Rolex, anyway?

[luxurysystems]

"....make it a closed casket, won't you, Irwin?"

[luxurysystems]

You ever get possessed and hastily make concepts for another Money Inc. AU set in a city made to replicate mid-80s Miami?

[luxurysystems]

Okay consider:

IRS as the protagonist of the ACDC song Dirty Deeds (ie, he's a tax evader bounty hunter)

Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT

Neckties, contracts, high voltage

Done dirt cheap.

Bounty Hunter/Contract Killer!Irwin HCs under the cut because I'm going insane over this ask:

Always* completes a job 100%. Has a reputation for being reliable so a lot of his clients come from referrals.

Didn't quit his day job as an accountant-- he knows better. It serves as his cover and plus, he's just really good with numbers. He enjoys it.

Very resourceful and is proficient with most weaponry.

Prefers hit jobs where he can be far away from the target. Any hit where he can use a sniper rifle is an immediate yes.

But, if a client requests that someone be killed in close quarters, he'll accept- for an additional fee, of course.

For bounty jobs, they're almost an immediate yes. Can easily catch and overpower someone, tie them up, stuff them in the back of his trunk, turn the radio up really loud if they get too vocal, and deliver them to his client. No ammo wasted. Easy money.

Smoke cigs during a job. It helps calm him down.

No repeat clients, ever. Only exception is if they'd like help filing their taxes.

(* until he was tasked to capture notorious money launderer, Ted Dibiase. It was the only time he didn't go through with a job as Ted convinced Irwin to work with him instead...)

[luxurysystems]

If I'm gonna do this Vice City AU any justice, you know I have to give Irwin the loading screen treatment.

[luxurysystems]

Death and Taxes

[luxurysystems]

Lux I'm sorry, I gotta put another one into your head for my own sanity:

Ted has been trying to get Bounty Hunter Irwin's attention for weeks through casual "accidental" encounters and gifts dropped at the office of his legal job (only served to make Irwin incredibly edgy cause he does like his legal job and he's not looking to get caught because some rich asshole is making a fool of himself) and EVENTUALLY Irwin agrees to a meeting with him. Just one single meeting with the caveat that if he's still not interested afterwards, Ted will leave him alone forever.

The meeting is held at that black granite & volcanic rock table you reblogged and Ted is obviously trying to impress Irwin with his wealth, but Irwin's been playing this game long enough for net worth to just mean numbers to him and bigger numbers are just small numbers with more 0s.

It takes a little talking, but Irwin does eventually agree to be Ted's personal bodyguard/hitman. Everyone has a price, after all

"You know why I'm here."

Irwin's voice seemed to echo in Ted's lavish penthouse suite. The two sat on opposite sides of a black granite table- the perfect setting for a polite conversation, or an interrogation...

Ted held a lowball glass in his hand, swirling the spirit inside around a couple of ice cubes. He needed to play his cards right otherwise everything he built here in Florida would go to waste. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged back to Nebraska....

Lifting his eyes from his glass Ted matched Irwin's gaze which remained fixed on him, unwavering, bordering on unnerving. Ted pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek, which he slid across his bottom teeth, ending with a devious smile...

Irwin, statuesque in nature when he's on the hunt, barely fidgeted once he sat down. When he entered the suite, his eyes darted around initially. Ted was no slouch in displaying how wealthy he was based on the decor. Seeing his reflection on the floors admittedly impressed Irwin for a fleeting moment.

He looked at Ted's smile- it had no effect on Irwin. Those charming, shining pearls were no match for the payoff he was about to receive once he captured Ted.

"I do." Ted began. "And I know how much he's offering you."

A silence followed, broken only by the sound of Ted flicking his glass.

Irwin wasn't too sure why he was dragging his feet in nabbing Ted. In fact, the job so far was incredibly different from the others he accepted in the past. Normally, by this time Irwin should be stuffing Ted in the backseat of his car, gagged and bound. His reward would be wired into his account once he phoned his client back... instead, there he sat.

Breaking the silence again, Ted spoke. "I knew I had a month-- maybe that's pushing it, but I knew he'd send someone eventually. And by God, he sent the best.."

Irwin's eyes widened slightly.

"I just...had to see it for myself. Sorry for stopping by your office a couple days ago, multiple times. And for the floral arrangement. And for the Rolex--"

"Stop." Irwin interrupted. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice."

Ted took a sip from his glass, swallowing hard as the strength of his top shelf choice burned on the way down. He couldn't help but chuckle, stunned that his plan was working...

"The mere fact that you are giving me a choice in the matter is telling." Ted observed.

A bead of sweat started to form on Irwin's brow. He's right, why did he even give Ted a choice? Irwin was begging for his body to make a move, to get this over with, and yet he sat there...

"Listen, I'm not new here." Ted continued as he sat back in his chair. "Did my homework on your whole shtick, too. 2 days for research; 2 days for scoping out the place; 2 days for planning and gathering supplies; and on the 7th day.....you come a-knockin'. 1 week. That's what you tell your clients. That's what you guarantee."

A second bead of sweat started to form on Irwin's brow. The first having made its way down towards his chin.

"Did I throw a wrench in your plans when I presented myself to you multiple times? Has your prey ever done that before, Irwin, try to know you?"

Irwin inhaled sharply. His chest started to feel unbearably heavy. Irwin wasn't expecting this---for once he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Like I said, I know how much money he offered you. I know because that's how much he has left!" Ted started to break into laughter near the end. His rosy cheeks started to have an effect on the bounty hunter. "Seeing all of those ones and zeros at your desk job and then being rewarded with more ones and zeros in the form of bundled crispy bills after doing a dirty job like this...must be tiring, huh?"

Again, silence. Irwin's mind started to race.

"What are you getting at?" Irwin finally asked.

Ted leaned in, his hands clasped as his elbows rested on the table. "I want you. Plain and simple."

"You want me to work for you?"

"Not 'for me', 'with me'."

Irwin gulped. The heavy feeling in his chest turned into a warm, almost vibrating sensation. .....with him....how foreign and affectionate those words seemed. How intoxicating...

"Feel free to refuse." Ted remarked as he sat back, fully relaxed in his chair. "If you refuse, well I'll tell you what, I'll go with you like a lamb to the slaughter. No questions asked. You'll get your payment and you'll never see me again."

"And if I accept?"

"Well, I'd pour you a drink."

The corners of Irwin's mouth started to lift.

"I'd like that."