a city of ash and blood (ruling it like we're kings on a golden throne)

1. a mouth full of bullets, gun full of words.

it is v awkward to write a fanfic with two dudes with the same name without lengthening out the name of one of 'em, so O.R will be known mostly by his single channel name.

It's a distant memory of when Ryan first meets his partner, his platonic ally that he is now so familiar with. Few things come to mind from that night, an ink splashed night sky that is filled with empty noise from the streets of Los Santos.

Ryan remembers the steadily increasing need for ammo for his oh-so-beloved SMG that he had been using the past two weeks on drug 'steal 'n deals' as a few of his accomplices had called them.

He was utterly shitfaced and reckless when he arrived at Ammunation at the mere early hours of 3AM, the bright lights of the gun store making him flinch as soon as he stepped in. A slightly slurred mumble got Ryan all he needed and he was done and free to roam the city of crime.

The next short memory is him fruitlessly jamming key in the car lock and cursing silently when it gets stuck. (Ryan, despite not remembering a thing, still denies that he was putting the wrong key in, and that it wasn't locked.)

A swift kick to his cars' tire and he is stomping away with frustration and mumbles pouring from his lips. Now, even though he's told many times that, no, he hadn't been stalking Ryan, a young blond man sat on a wall with a vintage pistol hanging from his slender fingers; his eyes were quirked in question towards Ryan and a lit cigarette between his pale lips.

He's illuminated by a dull, orange streetlight that just reaches him underneath it, making the smoke from the nicotine seem thicker and more like a mist than it actually is.

Ryan remembers standing there blankly and trying to load up his SMG in case his drunken self decides a quick dance with death that night was a fantastic idea.

"Ey," The young man had nodded towards him, and Ryan had swung his weapon towards him in an almost-threat. His face remained unfazed as he pushed himself of the wall, taking Ryan's gun from his limp hand and loading it up with quick succession.

Blondie obviously knew his way around a gun, which is probably why he was also holding one.

"Any reason you carrying a gun so casually?" 'Blondie' had asked him and handed the gun back to him.

Ryan shook his head and stared dazedly at the gun back in his hand and furrowed his eyebrows at the male. "No no, just...uh, bought some ammo is all." And the blond man nodded in reply, butting his cigarette against the pavement. "An' what 'bout you?" Ryan questioned, hand pointing at the golden vintage pistol still in the Blondie's right hand.

Blondie shrugged. "Just 'cause." And soon, he had invited Ryan on a quick swipe through the upper hills of Los Santos to take care of a quick gun deal, that might have something in it for him if he helped.

" 'M Ryan, by the way," Ryan had mumbled when Blondie was done gunning down a few plus ones that worked for an old troublesome gang. "I don't really do much 'part from a few drug things couple times a week."

Blondie had chuckled after Ryan spoke, a slight shake of his head as he dug through the gangs' bodies for ammo or money. (Though he never needed much from he amount he'd earned in his past, it never hurt to take a couple dollars now and then.)

"How coincidental. I'm also Ryan," Blondie had said as he watched Ryan hop onto the hood of his own car. "But I mostly go by the name Bazamalam, or something along those lines. Little name I made for myself." The man went through his glove box and stashed the little cash he looted there, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it quickly, hopping up on the hood beside Ryan afterwards.