Michael and Vasquez fuck.

As suddenly as their attack on the motorcycle club had began, Vasquez leaned forward, seizing Michael's face with her hands and pulling him in for an intense kiss.

Michael reciprocated, kissing Vasquez and letting his hands roam down, squeezing the cop's fit, toned body, before pulling away after a few seconds.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this..." he protested. "My marriage me be on life support, but there's still a ring on this finger, and..."

Vasquez rolled her eyes. Turning away from Michael, she unfastened her black uniform pants, let them hit the ground, then bent over the hood of a nearby car, offering her booty to the criminal.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Michael!" Vasquez insisted.

Michael's resolve had been wavering, and what Vasquez had done had been enough to send it skittering into the abyss.

The older crook brought himself right up behind the cop, his ringfinger, in conjunction with all the others, hooking into her panties and yanking them down.

He ground his clothed crotch against her nakedness, letting her feel just how hard he was for her.

"Dios mio, just put it inside me already!" Vasquez implored him, mostly cognisant of how little time they had, but there was a note of hunger in her exasperation, too.

Michael, having already committed, decided not to disappoint. Dropping his fly, he let his cock out, and rammed it home.

As committed as she was to keeping up her tough girl bravado, Michael felt somewhat proud of himself, as he made Vasquez let out an involuntary little gasp as he stuffed her tight Latina slit.

Given she was wet and willing, Michael wasted little time. He picked up pace, slamming her again and again, as she put out her hands to steady herself on the bullet-ridden ride before them.

"You like that, Officer?" Michael smirked, giving her fuckable brown ass a hard smack for good measure. "You always get turned on after a... bust?"

"You're one to talk, De Santa." Vasquez smirks. "Knew from the start. You were just an impotent old white dude, could only get hard after a gunfight."

Michael couldn't exactly deny he got off on these sort of life and **** situations. The risk, a quick and nasty ****, the reward, victory and more cash than he'd see in a year working most honest jobs.

Michael had had enough. He would show her just exactly what this "impotent old white dude" could do. Grabbing one of Vasquez's arms, he put it behind her back, leveraging her body and pressing her right into the car, before fucking her even faster.

"Oh... Cristo!" the Latina gasped, rapidly getting overwhelmed by the pleasure the older man was providing.

His heart thundering and his face reddening, not that Manuela could tell, luckily, Michael willed himself to keep going. He was getting close himself, but now, he had a point to prove.

"Oh fuck!!!" Vasquez called out as she finally came. So great was her pleasure that she ended up squirting. As Michael watched her juices drip down onto the junkyard dirt, he felt vindicated. A couple decades and (in her case) a shitton of cosmetic surgeries ago, he'd done just the same to an impressionable young stripper by the name of Amanda. Felt good to know he still had it, after all these years.

As he pulled out, Vasquez remained where she was, for a good few seconds, catching her breath. Michael looked down at her appreciatively. The sight of her would be burned into his memory center for many years to come.

"We need to move." the cop realised suddenly, hearing police sirens, and a hell of a lot closer than they had been when they'd began fucking.

"Guess an organisation as corrupt as the LS fucking PD has to get off it's ass eventually." Michael remarked, as they dashed back inside the stash house. "No offence."

Michael snatched the cash-filled duffle up from it's resting place, then made for the exit.

"Fuck!" Sargeant Vasquez hissed, pointing to the sirens outside in the early dusk light. "They're right outside! If they see me, my career- my life, is over Michael!"

"Relax, I got this." Michael said, thinking rapidly. "Take your clothes off."

Despite everything, Vasquez glared at him.

"Take your clothes off, and put them in the bag." he told her, dropping the duffle and opening it up. That done, he ran over to the nearest Lost member and pulled his jacket off. Luckily, he had dispatched this one with a round right between the eyes, so the patch on his back was pretty much intact.

By now, Vasquez was down to her bra and panties. He tossed the leather jacket at her.

"This is your bright idea, De Santa?" the cop asked, flummoxed.

"Better for them to get a look at your ass than your badge number, princess." Michael responded.

"Point taken." Vasquez remarked, as she threw on the jacket.

Vasquez' identity disguised, Michael snuck over to the most road-worthy of the Lost's bikes. They could hear the LSPD outside now, discussing a strategy for clearing the junkyard.

Luckily, as if by magic, even a group as devil may care as the Lost had motorcycle helmets on hand. Michael pulled one on, passing another to Vasquez, hoping the black visor would do the job, mask her identity.

"You ready?" Michael asked, the bag slung over his shoulder as he throttled up the Hexer's engine. "This is risky as fuck, I admit."

"Hell of a time to start riding bitch." Vasquez quipped, as she swung her leg over the bike and gripped Michael's torso tightly for support.

"Well, here goes nothin'." Michael exhaled, gunning the bike towards the junkyard fence. As he did, he raised his handgun, sending a few rounds into the heavy padlock keeping it locked. It burst apart at just the last second, and the two of them crashed through the gate.

The LSPD were in disarray as Michael and Manuela came screaming out. A couple made for their cruisers, a couple more drawing and cracking off a few shots that whistled right past the two would-be vigilantes.

You're given control once again, and do your level best to evade the cops. Given the element of surprise, and the speed and maneouverability of the Hexer, you pull it off, guiding Michael back into Los Santos proper.

After you've put a suitable amount of distance between you and the cops, the game instructs you to slip into an alleyway.

You do exactly that, and a cutscene begins.

Vasquez takes the bag, and changes back into her patrolwoman's uniform.

"Goddamn, man. I can't believe that stunt of yours worked."

"I've pulled off crazier toots, believe you me." Michael says, with an imperciptle smile, as he stays sat on the bike, the engine cold.

"Still, I owe you. We sent a lot of Lost scum downstairs tonight, and got a lot of **** off the street." Vasquez admits, a note of genuine warmth creeping into her normally tough manner. "Thank you, Michael."

"De nada, senorita." Michael chuckles.

"Here." Vasquez responded, kicking the dufflebag back to Michael.

"And here's your change." Michael says, tossing a handful of stacks back to Vasquez.

"You kidding? I don't want any of this shit. It's **** money." the cop insisted.

"You may not want it, but chances are, the day'll come where you're gonna need it, sister." Michael explained. "For legal fees, if your bosses ever find out about your little unsanctioned operation. That is, if they press charges, instead of just re-assigning you to a precinct at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. That, or one of the gangs you're so intent on pissing off might come after you. When that happens, you better believe me, you'll appreciate the value of a little "get the fuck out of San Andreas fund", doll."

Appropriately cowed, Vasquez took the money. She made to leave the alleyway, the Lost MC jacket slung over her shoulder, a grim souvenir, before turning back.

"Here." Manuela said, passing him a business card. "My private number's on the back."

"In case I wanna play Urban Defender some more?" Michael asked, an eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah, I mean, the gangs I'm after, their hideouts are still out there..." the cop said. "But, maybe we could just grab a beer sometime?"

"Well if we do, I'm buying." Michael quipped, nodding to his dufflebag full of money.

"See you around, old man." Vasquez smirked, before sauntering off.

"Goddamn, this city..." Michael muttered to himself, as gameplay resumed. As you guided his stolen bike out into Los Santos, you read a couple of tutorial messages informing you that you had unlocked not only Vasquez's sidemission chain, but the ability for Michael to date her as his girlfriend. The game promised unique rewards, should he complete her missions, and grow close to her.