For some fahc headcaonons: A come together story that doesn't start out with Geoff wanting to rule the city. Instead he owns a local grocer (taking from minecraft) and the gang violence just gets nuts to where he's like "you know what? If there's gonna be crime in my city, I'm gonna control it since you hooligans can't seem to do it right" or something along those lines. A tired, older Geoff who just wants peace of mind instead of one who has wanted to own it all from the beginning.
I .... love this?Like, Geoff has grown up in Los Santos all his life. In school, there was a pretty accepted rate that about half the boys and a quarter of the girls in every class were going to become members of a gang and drop out halfway through high school, if not before. He was always fed all the shit by Los Santos school system - drugs’ll kill you, don’t have sex, don’t do crime, etc. etc. It was all nonsense, really, except the crime one, but he was pretty uninterested in all the gangs and terf wars and figured it was better to just keep his head down until he could get out of the city of sin.His parents were sort of out of the equation and as soon as he was 18 he left home, getting a shitty old apartment in a bad sort of down but keeping out of trouble by basically being unassuming. As he got a bit older, he adopted the punk look, covered himself in tattoos, and kept out of trouble a different way -- basically by looking so much like a rival gang member other crews would leave him the fuck alone.
So he got by. He heard stories of people making names for themselves. Kept his money under his pillow or on his person to avoid getting it robbed in any of the many bank heists. Eventually got a job at a local grocery store because everyone needs food, right? Even mobsters wouldn’t destroy a grocery store because they still needed to eat. The store sold other things as well as food - garden supplies (hoes, fertilizer, plants, seeds, etc.) and other some-such nonsense - and he had his fair share of transactions with seedy customers planning on using a normal rake or some dirt for far more nefarious purposes.It was eight years, four months, and sixteen days into his stint as a grocer - now basically owning the shop - that he decided that enough was fucking enough. A young woman with fire-red hair and a gang tattoo on her shoulder had hung around the shop enough to make him know where her loyalties lay. And when she finally leaned across the bar (letting her shirt dip down just enough) and asked him if he was willing to help fund/supply a little... operation ... with a gang she was putting together, well. Why the fuck not, right?











