Chapter Text
Los Santos was, and always will be, a shitshow and a half. It was no secret that everything was legal as long as you could pull it off, and that cops were willing to let things slide with the right price. It was a free for all, a small slice of chaotic freedom for those that chose to live there.
But even Los Santos wasn’t quite ready for one Yuno Sykk when he moved in. Ever unassuming in his quiet, almost demure personality, most people quickly learned the 1 thing that enabled the helmet-wearing man to wreak havoc wherever he went: Pretty Privilege.
Yes, Yuno had an excess of Pretty Privilege, despite wearing a helmet 99% of the time. His voice alone, in all its fluffy cloud and melting butter goodness, was already enough to enrapture those nearby. But it was the rare times that he took off his signature helmet that the Los Santos residents Understood. Yuno’s face was dangerous, dangerously beautiful, and that helmet had to stay on or else a whole new level of chaos would reign. So an unspoken agreement was passed around: convince Yuno to keep his helmet on, no matter what. Or else Los Santos was Fucked.
It wasn’t clear if Yuno himself knew of the agreement, or if he genuinely believed himself to be unattractive, but for the sanity of Los Santos, no one asked. Because it was quickly becoming clear that Pretty Privilege could get Yuno anywhere.
And that was before Yuno had wormed his way into the hearts of pretty much everyone in Los Santos, be it criminal, cop, or neutral resident. Before he had taken up multiple part time jobs, be it legal or illegal, offered the occasional sandwich or two to a stranger later turned friend, and even before he had risen in fame as one of the most notorious hackers in the city, “allegedly”.
At this point, it was well established that Yuno wasn’t someone you wanted to cross —despite his easygoing and forgiving personality, he had the protection and borderline loyalty of gangs all around the city, the cops, and even the fucking mafia.
So unless you got a death wish, you don’t fuck with Yuno Sykk.
Unfortunately, not everyone got the memo. See, the CEO of one of the banks had quickly grown tired of the numerous breaches of their security system, and had ordered one of their men to track down the source of said breaches.
Not surprisingly, it had led the crime-filled city of Los Santos. But more unexpectedly was the discovery that half of the breaches were done by 1 specific person, someone by the name of Yuno Sykk, who had singlehandedly disabled revamped system after revamped system. While there were others out there that had also successfully gotten though the security, Yuno had a 100% success rate, and was the perfect target for the CEO’s plan. Obviously, the law enforcement was lackluster in the city, seeing as how the menace was still roaming free and hacking left and right. So, the CEO explained, what they needed was a message. A message to the criminals of that godforsaken city that if they continued to run amuck and breach their systems, that there would be dire consequences. And the corpse of one Yuno Sykk will be the deliverer of said message.
Satisfied, the CEO hired a group of notorious hitmen, offering extra if they made the execution as public as possible, and under his name. He wanted this message to be memorable, one that would actually strike fear into the hearts of those deadbeat gangsters. The hitmen had readily agreed, and the deal was made. Yuno Sykk, unbeknownst to him, had 1 week left to live.
It had taken the hitmen a few days to scout out a decent place to do the deed, and they had settled on an abounded warehouse near the side of a less frequented freeway. Their target, however erratic his schedule may seem, was surprisingly easy to track down and monitor, thanks to his glowing shoes and penchant to gravitate towards any sort of chaos. The tracker that the hitmen placed on his helmet also ensured they kept tabs on him the whole time.
With a place for their deed and location of their hit confirmed, it was just the formation of the plan left. For something flashy, the hitmen had decided on a ransom turned massacre —they first put a price on Yuno’s head, make news of his kidnapping public to raise awareness, and then execute him when enough people have come to prove a point using the CEO’s name. The extra money was a bonus for them to share.
All in all, a solid plan. They’ve done similar hits before, ones that need to be flashy yet brutal to drive a point home, though it was the first time someone from the more legal side of the law had hired them to do something under their name.
The kidnapping was easy —they had driven up to their target when he was on the pier for some reason or another, talking aimlessly to someone else on the phone while mindlessly moving about. A gun to his face and the harsh demand to hang up had Yuno complaint, his hands quickly raising in the air in surrender as his phone and other personal belongings were confiscated. Hell, the guy didn’t even own a gun, just had a few sandwiches, a USB, and a lock pick on his person. He was quickly ushered into the car, handcuffed then blindfolded as the hitmen made their way to the warehouse.
“Honestly, it’s nothing personal. For us, anyway,” One of the more talkative hitmen sighed, “but the bossman? He’s not really happy with you, Yuno Sykk. You messed with the wrong person.”
“Why, why’s that?” Yuno asked nervously from the back, “Did I do something wrong?”
“Listen, those banks you like hacking so much? Yea, it’s coming to bite you back in the ass.” The hitman shrugged, “Bossman is one of the bigshots of those banks, and you’ve been giving him a bad rep. Told us to take you out.”
“Take me out? Like, as in for ransom?” Yuno fidgeted, dread running through his veins, “Not like, take me out as in kill me, right? That seems a bit…a bit extreme right? Ahahah…”
The silence dragged on a bit after that, and Yuno felt cold sweat run down his back.
The hitman sighed. “Like I said, no hard feelings. But boss’s orders. We’ll do a ‘ransom’ first, call some people, have them show up to stir up some drama and shit. But we’re gonna kill you right after getting the money. Boss wants your execution as flashy and public as possible to prove a point.”
Yuno stilled at that, his normally fidgety movements halting at the new information.
“I hope you’ve said your last goodbyes Yuno Sykk.” The hitman smiled grimly, “Today’s the last day you’re going to live.”
The rest of the ride was silent after that.
When they arrived at the warehouse, Yuno was ushered with a gun to the back towards a chair set up in the middle and made to sit down before being tied down with a heavy set of chains. Utilizing the camera they had set up beforehand, the hitmen commenced the next part of their plan —sending a video demanding ransom to the public.
Ensuring the livestream was running and connected to the local news channel, they made sure to take off Yuno’s helmet just so there was no mistaking who was being held captive.
“We have one Yuno Sykk here,” The leader of the hitmen drawled, utilizing a voice modulator to change his voice, as he grabbed the back of Yuno’s head to face the camera, “and our demands are simple. $50 million in cash by 6PM tonight, or else he dies. We’ll contact again using this same method to share our location 30 minutes before the deadline. Don’t be late, or else you know the consequences. Same with any funny business. Me or my boys hear about anything sketchy going on, and this man,” He tugged Yuno’s hair harder, “is dead. Understood? Understood. See you at 5:30.”
Motioning to his men to cut the livestream, the leader then took the chance to finally take a look at their victim.
A surprisingly pretty face stared back, his face somehow neutral and passive despite his line being on the line. A shame that pretty face will soon be no more, the leader thought, releasing his grip on the target’s hair, but a job’s a job. Now it was just time to wait before the big show started.
AJ Hunter had been the first one to see the news, having been on a lunch break since there was a surprisingly little number of bank heists and robberies in the city. He had literally just finished half of his sandwich (which definitely did not remind him of a certain helmet man, pfft what kind of question was that) when the weatherman had cut off, before being replaced with a grainy footage of a warehouse that you’d see in a bad horror movie. The trooper was about to snort at the clicheness of it all before he found himself staring back at the site of a bound Yuno. The half eaten sandwich plopped back down onto the table forgotten, as AJ listened to the rest of the ransom notice in dread, quickly contacting Conan Clarkson, the ranger that he knew shared an equal fondness of the “alleged” hacker, to relay the threat.
“…They took Yuno?” Conan’s normally jovial voice was flat and cold on the other side of the line, “For ransom?”
“Yea. Fucking ransom.” AJ sighed in frustration, “They want $50 million by 6 tonight. Where the fuck are we supposed to get that amount of money? We don’t get paid shit.”
“I know a person or two,” Conan answered, “but you’re not going to like it. You probably already know, anyway.”
“Lang?” AJ massaged his temple, feeling the beginnings of a migraine.
“Lang. And CG too, while we’re at it.” Conan confirmed, voice just as grim. “Like it or not, Lang’s got the money. He also hast he soft spot the size of the fucking world for Yuno. The rest of them too, K, fucking Ramee, Randy, the others, they all would help too. Fuck, we might as well go down our warrant list and hit those people up too because they’d probably do the same.”
“Ugh, fine.” AJ felt the migraine creeping up at the thought of actually having to work with criminals of all things, literal people they’ve put behind bars and shot at because they are fucking breakers of the law. “The things we’d do for Yuno, man.”
Conan sighed on the other side of the line, “The things we’d do for Yuno. I’ll call Lang, I’m gonna have us all meet at the Burgershot, yea?”
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” AJ groaned, “Fine. I’ll let Cornwood and the other coppers know, since this whole ransom really is a crime. Meet you at Burgershot in 20.”
“Mm. See you there.” Conan hung up, heaving another heavy sigh as he scrolled down his list of contacts until he reached one titled ‘Lame Buddha’. “God, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this shit…Hey Buddha? Yea yea I know, fuck you too, but listen, it’s about Yuno…”
Now, Lang has seen a lot of shit back in his day. He’s fucking old, and probably seen at least 2 different eras of gangs come and go at this point. While he may not be as active in the gang scene as before, no one was dumb enough to try and cross him. Lang had connections, and while he was trying to stay ‘clean’ for now, with his endeavor with Rooster’s Rest going well, he very much was still involved with the illegal side of things under the table. One of which was bank heists, because while he may be filthy rich, a little bit of excitement like the old days got his blood pumping. And as of recently, said bank heists have been accompanied with his new favorite employee —one cheerful, seemingly air headed Yuno Sykk, who had oneshotted the hacks he failed to complete, and continued to astound him time after time with his quick, clever mind.
If there was one thing Lang had kept from the old days, it was the fierce protectiveness of his allies and friends. And Yuno, with all his wittiness, cute little ‘oh jesus’s’, failed attempts to return his declarations of love, and overall never-ending supply of kindness, was easily one of his most treasured employees, if not friends.
So hearing news of his kidnapping, by an outside group nonetheless, was a fucking slap to the face. Lang had sworn to protect Yuno, had already decided Yuno was one of his people. And some fucking irrelevant group had the balls to take him hostage and demand $50 million? Fucking fine. He’ll make sure they get their fucking $50 million. But, Lang vowed as he strode into the back of the Rooster’s Rest, lifting a painting to reveal a handle to a hidden room full of artillery, gunpower, and illegal weapons to power a small army, there will be fucking hell to pay. The minute Yuno was back in safe hands, those motherfuckers are dead. Maybe burnt alive, as a tribute to Yuno’s penchant for arson. Mm, thoughts, many thoughts.
But first, preparations. And for that, Lang called up K, to make sure the Chang Gang was also on the same page. They had a meeting in Burgershot to go to, a meeting that he knew for a fact that Mr. K, along with Randy and Ramee, would want to attend.
Yuno thought he’d be more freaked out about his impending execution, but at the moment he felt surprisingly numb. Maybe it was because the idea hadn’t quite settled in yet, or maybe it was because in a way, the last few years he had spent in Los Santos had already been longer than he thought he’d spend alive. It wasn’t a secret that Yuno hadn’t come to Los Santos in the best situation —he had just dropped out of college, an orphan who had since lost his twin sister and barely had the attention span to maintain a decent, working job. He wasn’t the type of person who could easily settle down for a stable 9 to 5 job, and somehow Los Santos had taken advantage of that for the better. A previously rarely used phone was now full of new contacts, tweets, and texts from friends and acquaintances alike, and somehow he had a whole 4 part time jobs under his belt. His previously lonely days were now full of excitement and chaos, surrounded by people he’s met and befriended, and honestly Yuno had never been happier.
Perhaps that was why his lingering death hadn’t phased him as much as he thought it would —Yuno already considered himself lucky to have lived such a vibrant, great time of his life, one that he had never imagined could happen to him. If this was the price for such fun times, Yuno thought wistfully, then so be it. It was a great time, being a back to back bank busting criminal mastermind with my criminal friends, while also offering sandwiches and pinging my location to my cop friends.
Yuno continued to reminisce small memories, like how brightly Dundee’s face lit up when he had offered that bottle of whiskey, or how Mr. Lang had leaned back to back with him in the Vault. The exhilaration he felt after completing his first ever hack, and on the first try. The taste of the god slushies he made in jail, and the hidden Leanboi memories left behind in its walls. Even the time when he had tried to commit his first house robbery and was caught stealing a microwave of all things.
These were all moments Yuno had never expected to have, to be able to experience, with his personality. All throughout, he was told that he was doomed for failure from the start, through his inability to maintain focus on assignments and tasks, and disinterest in pursuing further academia. His fidgety personality made it hard for others to maintain conversation and get to know him, and his inability to stay in one place for a while also turned most people off.
So, Yuno thought, it was enough. That had to be enough —he had already got so much more than he could ever hope for, so who was he to ask for more?
If anything, at least Claire would take good care of Bimbus. Everything else would still run as is: the janitor positions he worked at weren’t really real jobs, and there were plenty of other talented hackers in the city that could complete he jobs for others.
Because at the end of the day, that was what Yuno was —replaceable. He didn’t need the cold press of the gun at his back to remind him of that. For all the fun that he had, Yuno always knew that it had to be temporary, that one day he’d wake up and it’d be all over. Today just happened to be that day.
He’s fine with that.
He had to be.