4RCH4N63L

Prologue

"God fucking damnit Gavino."

'What the actual fuck?' Groggily she sat up, reaching out blindly for her phone. Spam tapping her screen, the device snapped to life blazing the time and three missed text message in a brightness that was momentarily blinding. It was three in the fucking morning, who the hell was texting her at three in the fucking morning?! 'Oh..' Unlocking the phone, Lexa skimmed the text messages. One from her best friend complaining that she was a stiff now, one she had missed earlier that evening from her mother asking how she liked the new city and finally one from Paragon, only several minutes ago, demanding she wake her ass up.

"What! S'not my fault someone put a mailbox there!"

That right there, might be why. Phone abandoned, she tripped over her own feet and the sheet that was tangled between them. Kicking free took longer than necessary with her flamboyant motions but she was soon running to her desk, flicking on another blinding light by tapping her lamp. Twisting the dial on the old radio, she grinned as the familiar crackling of a silent line met her.

"You could have drove around it, Moron!"

Was Paragon playing some elaborate trick? She had been in Los Santos for a week, her equipment had only gotten set up earlier that day, or well the previous day. Lady luck had to be smiling down upon her if she was already picking up transmissions. A brief wiggle of her mouse had her lock screen popping up, inputting three passwords with a practiced precision she delved into the vortex of the online world.

4RCH4N63L: Paragon.. This has to be you.

P4R460N: Nope... High and alive on your frequency is Los Santos' own Fake AH Crew. Our resident morons with a lucky streak.

"We've got the bloody package, Micoo, as long as we get back alive that's all that matters!"

"DON'T BRING THE COPS HERE! WHADDYA DOING GAVINO!"

P4R460N: Meet DGeoff. AKA: Geoff. Leader, planner, architect.

"DGeoff, calm down! Even he's not stupid enough to dra- I take that back."

P4R460N: Jack. AKA: Jaquelin, the only women anyone's seen hanging around. Seems to be their doc and formal driver, though as you hear, Gavino takes that roll when they are feeling particularly stupid.

"Shall I kill them?"

P4R460N: Vagabond, AKA: Ryan. Their resident psychopath. Though there seems to be a method to his madness. You might say he is their formal weapons expert.

"FUCKING CHRIST, YOU STUPID FUCKING MORON. KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE DAMN ROAD!"

P4R460N: Mogar. AKA: Michael. Seemingly their rager. Known as their enforcer and explosives tech.

"I'm watching the bloody road Micoo! Not my fault people don't know how to drive!"

P4R460N: Gavino. AKA: Gavin. Pilot, Sniper, occasional driver and always a risk.

"Guys.. why? The GPS has asked you to turn three times now."

P4R460N: Monster Truck. AKA Jeremy. He's newer than the others, he seems to be the agent of chaos so far. Occasionally the voice of reason as well.

"I'm taking a shortcut!"

4RCH4N63L: Alright. Leader, Driver/Doc, Weapons, Explosives, Pilot/Sniper and Shit Disturber. Am I missing anyone? Why do I care about these guys?

P4R460N: Because. I brought you to Los Santos. You agreed to the deal, this is your assignment. Study up, I sent you a file to help. It will be good to get your name out there. Oh mighty good Samaritan.