Chapter Text
No one ever plans to join a crew.
No child answers “I wanna sell drugs and murder people!” when asked the age-old ‘what do you want to do when you grow up?’ question, unless you count Clyde in the Bonnie and Clyde musical. At least, according to what Ryan said.
Still, there are countless gangs in Los Santos. We basically have the run of the city, whether or not the ‘normal’ citizens agree. Poor souls, those pedestrians caught in a daily police chase, acknowledging that this was inevitable. That, after however many years they’ve lived in this shit city, they’d get caught up in something or another. Hell, more often than not, that was how some kids joined their crews.
God knows that’s how I met some of the best men in this city. That’s how I recruited the best damn sniper I’ve ever seen, the craziest and angriest motherfuckers alive, a stupid British prick that I trust my life with, a sneaky and observant smart-ass, and the kindest murderer that’s ever existed, onto the most well known gang this city’s had in years. And then there’s me; a drunk with too much time in his hands. Name’s Geoff. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Like I said, I run the most known crew in Los Santos- the Fake AH Crew.
I didn’t plan on ruining six other people's lives, nor my own. Ray –the sniper- joined when he was only eighteen. Michael, Jeremy, and Gavin weren’t much older.
I didn’t make them join. Quite a few of these assholes sought me out. Ray just offered to snipe for us after overhearing Gavin and I plan a heist in some bar. Ryan nearly killed me in my limo, so he was already pretty ruined. Jeremy actively hoped to be recruited, he was like an excited puppy when I hired him. It was pretty disconcerting. Michael would’ve gone off the deep-end at some point, with his anger issues, so I helped him focus that rage into detonating bombs to rob banks. Gavin was just an old friend that had…connections, so I offered, and he took. I’m…not entirely sure where Jack came from.
Holy shit, when did Jack join?
Fuck, never mind, I’ll ask her to jog my memory later. I’ve still gotta write this damn thing… Where was I?
Yeah, that’s everyone. Well, everyone on A-Team. We’ve got a B-team, too, but most of their stories involve looking online for a criminal to fill a certain role, or one of my boys saying that someone they know needs a job and meets my requirements.
Do you know where I’m going with this? Because I sure don’t. I’m only writing this because Jack said it would ‘help’ to ‘tell my story’. But I’m gonna tell the whole story, because who knows who else will read this? Maybe it’ll be so good that Jack will post it secretly. Or maybe I will. And, if not, old me that won’t remember shit will probably need help with who everyone was. So, here goes. My story.
The whole story.
Obviously, I started the Fake AH Crew. But there’s more depth than just hiring them off the internet. There’s more than just me going ‘hey, crime sounds fun; let’s drag my close friends and random kids into it as well!’ There’s more than the small recaps I gave; they have their own place, and I’m the only one left to lay it all out.
I began the crime life in my mid-to-late twenties, originally with only Gus Sorola. Later that year, Burnie Burns got high up in the crime business, and started sniffing out newbies with ‘potential.’ He also found Joel Heyman, a man way too invested in investing, especially gold, and Matt Hullum, who quickly became the actual leader. We formed the Roosters, and rose to the top of Los Santos; anything that happened went through them, nothing unseen. No one dared upset the balance.
It was perfect.
But then it got bigger. Burnie and Matt started hiring kids off the street-not that I’m against that. Those kids were living in dumps, and had great initiative and talent. But then the original crew had to spread across the city to manage everything. After months of only discussing ‘professional’ issues with Burnie and never even directly speaking to Matt, I’d had enough. So I tried to...re-connect. I set up a heist, for just the five of us. No backup, no hacking from the building, nothing. Just them, like the old days. And it went to absolute shit.
No one had any idea what to do without anyone on the com back at headquarters, Gus fucked up and didn’t hit a single camera because of his reliance on it already being hacked, Joel didn’t know where to drive, and Matt nearly died. We lost the cops and drove back to our first shared condo to what Matt called a ‘discussion.’ It felt more like a violent, angry intervention.
“Hey, asshole, look where your damn nostalgia got us!” Gus was absolutely furious, his stream of expletives never ending. “An injured boss, a broken car, and no fucking money!”
“It’s not my fault that you were so far up your own asses that you relied on the backup that wasn’t there!” I shot back.
“You didn’t give us any time to prepare, it was a step away from kidnapping!” Burnie was as red as Gus, practically fuming out the ears.
“I told you, I wanted to experience old times again, before your damn expansions! I wanted some fucking time together, I haven’t seen any of you in months!”
“You poor fucking baby! Oh no, you haven’t seen your friends in months? Guess what, we’re adults, asshole! We can’t be constantly together like we were in the beginning!” Burnie seemed to be further infuriated every time I tried to defend myself, and it was terrifying and heartbreaking. Not that I’d let it show.
Finally, Matt spoke up, still nursing his bullet wounds. “We’ve been working, Geoff. I’m sorry that we don’t see each other as often. But this was never a good idea, and it couldn’t have gone well. We’ve grown up, we have work to do, it’s not all fun and games anymore.”
“We’re fucking criminals, not accountants! This isn’t being a grown-up, real grown-ups don’t steal from banks in stupid masks and torture people that won’t tell us secrets!”
“It’s our profession, in a way. It’s the only route possible to earn money, and it turned out that we set up an empire. It just so happened to be a crime empire.” Joel added thoughtfully.
“Fuck off, Joel!” The three of us screamed.
“Look, man, if this is just a game to you, go start your own crew. We’re trying to get somewhere in life, not just have a good time. It was nice when it lasted, but evolution is necessary. You’re gonna have to learn that, if you want to be a ‘real grownup.’”
“You know what? I will, Burns. I’m gonna start my own crew, and they’re gonna understand friendship! And fun, and the mixture of grownup bullshit with the joys of being childish sometimes!”
“Then get the fuck out!” Gus screamed, pointing at the door to the building.
I stomped out, infuriated, probably the most mad I’d ever been. Hell, probably the most mad I’ve still ever been.
I did, obviously, end up starting my own crew. I also learned that expansion was a necessity, as Burnie so bluntly advised. But the main crew stays together. The six of us go out, contact B Team, and succeed. And we stay in contact.
I heard later on that the other four Roosters became police officers. The newbies they hired either joined them or took it over, and it’s shrunken exponentially. (That was a nice word. Ryan would be proud.)
I didn’t succeed immediately, of course. I wasn’t alone for a second. I was joined by Jack, the only recruit I was remotely interested in joining the main crew. Together, we won the uphill battle.