Grand Theft Auto XXX
A young thief meets his match in a lady of the night who is not as helpless as she first appears.
Tropes – Hidden Identity, Meet Cute
He drifts around the corner, skids along the pavement, shifts gears, and stomps on the gas. 50 to 100 in 2 seconds flat.
This vintage, sleek black Pontiac GTO is a smooth ride. He stole it from a parking lot downtown after the last bank heist. He’s definitely gonna save it in his garage after this job.
20 yards ahead he spots a Hooker holding her leg out on the corner. Perfect. He stops right in front of her and opens the passenger door. “Get in.”
She lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t move a muscle to get in the car. “Don’t you know the magic word?”
His eyebrows come down in confusion. “Get in the car.” She huffs but complies this time.
That’s weird. The Hookers are usually pretty docile. She’s wearing the standard fire engine red mini dress with her cleavage hanging out, lots of make up, long blonde hair, but instead of matching red heels, she’s got on black combat boots.
Hm, she must be new.
He zooms down the road, reaching his target in less than a minute. God, he loves this car. He parks behind a dumpster and quietly gets out of the Pontiac. The Hooker follows him as they creep up to the side door of an abandoned factory by the docks.
He peers through the open door. Two hammered gangsters are guarding a pallet loaded down with stacks of gold bars, cash, and jewelry. The rest of the room is empty. Perfect.
He turns to the Hooker. She’s lounging against the side of the building examining her cherry red nails. He whispers, nodding towards the door, “Go in there and dance for them.”
Again, instead of moving her ass, she glares at him. His eyes widen. What the hell? He looks her up and down. There’s no box or anything in her way. There’s a clear path to the door. Why isn’t she moving?
“Go!” Her arms cross and she starts tapping her right foot. She clears her throat like she’s waiting for him to say something else. “Please?”
She smiles, “Gladly.” What. The. Hell?
She struts into the warehouse like she owns the place and walks right up to the guys. They leer at her, and start whistling and catcalling. She pulls a Glock out of a hidden thigh holster and headshots them both in quick succession. They never even knew what hit ‘em. Neither did he.
“What the hell!? Hookers don’t carry guns!” He rushes onto the factory floor, pistol at the ready.
She smirks at him, holstering her piece. “This one does.”
He keeps his gun pointed at her. “You’re not a Hooker.”
“Not exactly. I’m a player, like you.” She turns her back on him and strolls to the pallet.
He follows her, way past confused, soaring into incredulous. “That’s not possible. Hookers are NPCs.”
She looks over her shoulder as stacks of cash disappear into her cleavage. “I used a cheat code. Duh.”
“And you chose a Hooker!? Why? There are so many cooler, stronger characters!”
She rolls her eyes and turns to him, hands on her hips. “So I can have risk-free sex with dirtbags like you, obviously.”
His eyes trail down, “You can feel that?”
“No! You idiot!” She throws her hands up gesturing at their surroundings. “It’s easier to get into places like this as an underappreciated, overlooked Hooker. You’re welcome, by the way.”
She drops a couple more jewels into her boob wallet, then heads for the door, leaving half the pallet behind. “Thanks for the ride!”
He stares at the pallet in shock for a minute before coming to his senses, “Wait!” He runs after her, forgetting about the loot, only to see her tearing down the street in his new vintage black Pontiac GTO.