Chapter Text
When Barry Benson had stepped foot into Los Santos a year ago, he never imagined his life to be so chaotic and so good.
All he had wanted was to escape from his shitshow of a life back in Australia, scam a few people, and rob a couple of houses.
So that’s what he did, and he had a damn good time doing it. Insurance fraud, lockpick scams, you name it – Barry Benson’s probably done it.
But the simplicity of that life only lasted a couple of weeks before he stumbled into his current best friend and partner in crime. Since that fateful day, his life is no longer just on his own, but a part of a collective.
Buzz.
Barry glances down at the caller ID and recognizes the name of his boy.
“What’s up?” Barry answers.
“Barryyyyyy!” the voice on the line shouts gleefully. “You outta come down to Little Seoul. We’re having a bit of an issueeee.”
“What kind of issue, Garrett?” Barry inquires.
Garrett doesn’t budge. “The kind that needs your expert opinion, Mr. Warlord,” he hangs up abruptly.
Barry sighs.
He loves Garrett like a brother, but the man was very vague and elusive, often leaving Barry confused.
But according to him, he was needed, and he’s never let Garrett or his gang down before. Not now and not almost a year ago when he first joined the notorious Chang Gang alongside Garrett.
So he presses down the gas pedal of his Holden without another second of hesitation, speeding down to the block that he knows better than anyone else in the city.
–
When he pulls into the gates of his turf, he’s unsurprised to find a large group of his crew gathered.
He is surprised to find two gagged and handcuffed individuals on their knees in the center of everyone.
His arrival triggers the sea of CG members to part in half, so when Barry steps out of his car he gets a good look at the poor bastards.
One of the men is quite ugly, Barry immediately thinks. He sports short, blonde tousled hair and a face no one except a mother could love. A multitude of red, inflamed scars snake around his eyes, nose, and mouth.
The other man draws his attention in a much different way. His tan skin gleams with a light sweat, and Barry can’t help but notice the muscles in his arm contract as he fights against the cuffs behind his back. His dark brown hair and matching beard reflect the sunlight, but they have nothing on the man’s golden eyes. The fire and anger of them bore into Barry’s soul and it’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It’s intoxicating.
“Who’s this?” Barry asks as he stops directly in front of the two hostages, his favorite AK in hand.
Garrett steps up beside him with a large grin plastered to his face. “We got you a gift! Found these two little shits scrubbing off our tag. Not sure if this was a one-time offense, or if we found the culprits for the other tags that keep getting scrubbed.”
Garrett flips out his favorite, trusty knife and gently begins to lightly trace the first man’s facial scars with the point of it.
“I’m more inclined to believe it’s the latter, just for the mere fun of punishing them to our heart’s content.”
Barry gives a soft laugh. There was nothing more his best friend loved than a bit of cheeky torture, especially with a knife.
The bearded man growls through the gag.
Barry kneels to eye level with the man, curious as to whom he was dealing with. He reaches out and gently pulls down the gag. “What’s ya name, mate?”
“Irwin fuckin’ Dundee, mate.”
The name rings a bell. He’s heard it before, but he’s not sure how or why.
Barry notices the jean kuttes that lay across the boy’s backs.
Ah, must be the leader of the BBMC, he thinks. Why else would he know the name?
Barry doesn’t know shit about the MC that neighbors them. Occasionally he’ll see their members around the city, but he’s never taken the time to talk to any of them. All he knows about them is that they hate the cops and won’t hesitate to blast ‘em if they cross over into Vespucci. It’s a concept Barry is familiar with for his own turf.
“Why are you scrubbin’ our tags?” Barry asks calmly, staring directly into the man’s gaze.
“Just a bit of fun, mate,” Dundee’s lips curl into a feral grin, his tongue grazing his canines.
Barry feels a strange pull internally, ignoring the thoughts that begin to intrude his mind.
“Now, I dunno about you mate,” Barry continues. “But a response like that will typically get ya killed around here.”
The man continues to grin like he has nothing to lose. Barry feels the pull harder.
What a fuckin’ psychopath.
Barry has never met a man so shamelessly defiant towards him, let alone his entire gang. It wasn’t unusual for people to drop to their knees like he was royalty when he made his way around the city, so the fact that this man didn’t seem to give a single fuck about his status piques his interest.
Not many people could pique Barry’s interest. It was a running joke within CG that Barry could bring home a new guy every weekend but would never let them stay. The truth was that he just got bored easily. All the guys he found at the pub were pretty enough to take home, but none of them had that spark that sent adrenaline pumping through his veins.
And anyone who knows Barry knows how much of an adrenaline junkie he is.
Garrett shoves him gently. “Barry? What did you wanna do with them?”
Barry flicks his gaze between the two Bondi Boys. His mouth turns up into a smirk.
“Let the ugly cunt go. He can run back to his boys and report his missing leader.”
Still crouched on one knee in front of the bearded man, Barry uses his pointer finger to lift the man’s chin, exposing his entire neck.
“I’ve got plans for this one.”
Dundee releases another guttural growl. Before he can speak, Barry lifts the gag back to his mouth.
“Get him in the HSV,” Barry orders. He turns to his friend with a shit-eating grin.
“I need ya to follow my lead, Garrett,” Barry tosses his car keys. “You’re gonna drive. I’ll be in the backseat.”
Garrett squints his eyes slightly, clearly suspicious of Barry’s plan. “Alright, if you say so.”
–
For the first bit of the ride, Barry leans with his back against the door as he examines Dundee in more detail. The man is staring straight ahead with his hands still bound and gagged, chocolate-brown cowboy tipped slightly down. He’s made no sound since entering the car.
Barry plans on changing that.
He slides closer to Dundee suddenly, pressing the barrel of his Glock against the soft flesh of his throat. Dundee jumps slightly at his sudden movements, but still doesn’t make a sound.
Barry leans closer, brushing his lips against the man’s ear.
“This could have been easy,” he whispers softly. “But instead, you decided to be defiant.”
He pushes the gun a little harder into his throat. “Not that I’m complaining,” he continues. “You’re giving me something fun to do. You see, I get bored easily.”
Dundee bristles as Barry begins to thumb the collar of his dark kuttes, but the man remains silent.
Barry flicks his gaze up and finds Garrett staring at him from the rearview mirror with a look he can’t quite place. Garret’s eyes immediately flick away, and Barry returns his attention to the MC leader beside him.
“You’ll soon find out why you don’t want me to be bored.”
Barry’s free hand slowly moves away from Dundee’s kuttes and finds itself wrapping around his neck. A small amount of pressure finally makes the man react, and he turns to stare directly into Barry’s eyes.
A challenge. That’s what Barry sees in the man’s eyes. Not fear. Not doubt. Just pure, unadulterated chaos.
And suddenly Barry is hooked.