Pride Of The McReary

Chapter 1: The Cousins McReary

The mobile phone vibrated loudly against the dark oak table that had Irish designs hand carved on the legs. The famous Irish tune played beautifully to an empty room.

"…Or when the valleys hushed and white with snow, 'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow……"

The tune and the vibrating stopped after a while and was followed a beep and went to voicemail.

"Er, hey. This is Darryl McReary. I can't take your call right now, fuck knows why, so just leave a message after the beep." Another beep had occurred and the caller started talking.

"Darryl, it's your cousin. Patrick McReary." He sounded shaky, like he had just been crying. "I'm calling because……because…It's Katie. She's dead…her funeral is coming up soon and…well, y'know." Packie had sounded bleak. "Please come…It'll mean a lot to Ma…and me and Derrick and the family. Whoever is left anyway…Gimme a call when you get this message..." sighed Packie before hanging up.

A full hour after the phone call, a young man in his early 20s entered the home. With medium length shaggy chestnut brown hair, a build that boasted some muscle, a somewhat thick Irish accent and a golden shamrock necklace around his neck, the young man was Darryl McReary. The 6'2 ft Irishman took off his old but durable black motorcycle boots and tossed them lightly to the shoe rack. He walked through the small hallway, glancing at portraits. There was him, his parents who are both dead, his older brother Robert who was in the army fighting some war in the Middle East and could be dead at any time then his younger brother, Steve who might as well be dead as he abandoned the family, ran off with a suitcase of stolen money and severed all contact.

Darryl entered the kitchen and took a can of previously opened Guinness from the black refrigerator. Practically chugging down what was left, he placed the empty can onto the green marble kitchen surface and looked over to the table where his phone was. "Huh. So I did leave my phone here." Darryl wiped some Guinness off his lips and checked his phone to find two missed calls and two voicemail messages. "Hello, this is Martin Fox from Whiz Wireless. I was wondering if you are interested in -----" Darryl had almost immediately stopped the message in annoyance. "I'm sick of these fuckin bastards calling me to ask about my phone or if I'm interested in some shitty deal." said Darryl. He scrolled over to the next message.

"Darryl, it's your cousin. Patrick McReary. I'm calling because……because…It's Katie. She's dead…her funeral is coming up soon and…well, y'know. Please come…It'll mean a lot to Ma…and me and Derrick and the family. Whoever is left anyway…Gimme a call when you get this message..."

"Shit…." Darryl sat down in shock after hearing the message. He and Katie were close, just like how he was close to the other McReary's like Packie or Gerry. Darryl had never expected to hear that Katie was dead because she was the only innocent McReary who was never involved in crime. He knew that people like Packie, Darryl, Gerry, Francis and Derrick were probably destined to burn in hell for their activities but Katie; he would've thought she'd find the right person and grow old with whoever she loved. "It goes to show how messed up the world can be." sighed Darryl. He called Packie briefly to tell him that he would make it and turned on his laptop to book a first-class ticket to the 'Worst Place in America', Liberty City. After all, the flight to America is very long and Darryl can't stand being on an airplane or as he calls them, 'Tin Cans with wings' so travelling in luxury would make things slightly better. "Time to pack and get an early night." Darryl immediately got upstairs to pack and lamented not being able to bring his valued customised firearms, meaning he'd have to buy some crude weapons when he gets to the seedy city of Liberty City.

The next day, Tuesday 6:03 am.

Darryl stepped out of his house, wearing a dark pinstripe suit with an unbuttoned white silk shirt and black suede shoes, with two suitcases that were mostly filled with clothes. A dark green Huntley Sport with custom painted Shamrocks on the doors and golden rims on the tyres was parked on the road. A tall and intimidating muscular man wearing a red striped tracksuit stood, leaning against the door with a cigarette in the mouth and Irish Hip-hop playing on the radio. "Darryl! What's up bucko?" The man greeted in an Irish accent a lot thicker then Darryl's as he threw the cigarette to the ground to fist bump Darryl. "Hey Gazza. I owe ya one for this. My car isn't working and I ain't got the time to fix it." Darryl sounded thankful. "Forget about it mate. Go an' lock up the house while I put the suitcases in." said Gaz. Darryl locked the doors to the house and checked the windows while Gaz had put the two suitcases into the trunk. The two got into the Huntley Sport and drove off. "So where ya going? Somewhere nice?" Gaz turned down the stereo to make conversation. "Liberty City." paused Darryl to open the tinted windows. "I'm going to a cousin's funeral." "Shit. I'm sorry about your cousin." sympathised Gaz. "It's alright. She's up in a better place now while we're still stuck in this hell-hole they call life." Darryl remarked and Gaz had let out a deep laugh. "How fuckin true. How long ya stayin for?" The Huntley Sport stopped at a red light. "Dunno. For as long as I have to. Tell Terry and the boys that I said goodbye." replied Darryl. "I will Darryl. I will".

The two hour long car ride had ended. Gaz parked the Huntley Sport outside the terminal and helped Darryl unload the two suitcases. "Well, this is goodbye. Gimme a call sometime yeah? You better come back or I'll come to America and drag you back me'self." Gaz had practically bear-hugged him. In a friendly way of course. "I will. I don't know if I'll come back for a while though. I might not at all. I've got family over there that need help and…. it'll do me good to leave Ireland. There's more to life then fighting, footie and Guinness." sighed Darryl. "Alright but keep me posted boyo." Gaz got back into his Huntley Sport. They waved goodbye to each other before Gaz drove off. Darryl walked into the terminal and got into the line for the check-in desk. Unsurprisingly, it was a long queue. Eventually, it got to Darryl's turn and he passed both his ticket and passport to the man. "Darryl Seamus McReary…" muttered the man as he checked on his computer while Darryl put his two suitcases onto the baggage belt. "Everything checks out, Mr McReary. If you would like to make your way through airport security and to the departure lounge." said the dark-skinned man. "Cheers." Darryl took his ticket, passport and walked over to airport security on the other side of the terminal. Having no hand luggage with him, he put his mobile, watch, necklace and rings off so that he could walk through while his stuff was getting inspected.

After getting his stuff back, he went straight to the boarding lounge in Gate 25 where he is supposed to go. To his relief, an announcer had said that the flight to Liberty City was available for boarding and Darryl was among the first to enter the plane. He sat on one of the comfortable brown leather chairs that were only seen in the first-class area. Followed by a few businessmen, they were envied by a few passengers. Of course, who wouldn't be when you have to sit in Economy with personal space no bigger than inside of a box. After a short moment of waiting for any late passengers and one of those safety videos that you don't really pay attention to, the plane took off and for the duration of the long journey, Darryl mostly just watched whatever was on those plane TVs or slept. He couldn't stomach any of the cheap airline foods and the businessmen were too…snobbish for conversation. He slept once again until the pilot had waked him up from his long slumber.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentleman. It is approximately 11:12 am American Time. We will be landing at Francis International Airport in Liberty City shortly." announced the pilot. Darryl looked out the window and could almost see the whole of Liberty City. He could see the rich, economically successful borough of Algonquin with its buildings touching the clouds; he could see the run-down area of Bohan in all its decrepit glory and Darryl could see the ethnically diverse Dukes. Yet, with all these sights, Darryl was thinking about Katie and how the other McReary's have been. He wasn't exactly a psychologist when it came to grief and if he didn't know that then how could he deal with a funeral? It wasn't that Darryl had never been to a funeral, he had been to plenty; it was that he could never cope with losing a loved one. When his parents had died, he felt so torn up that he'd always snap when their names were mentioned.

The plane had touched down and landed on the airstrip. After a shaky but otherwise skilled landing, the plane was positioned and passengers were able to leave. Darryl stood up and sorted out his expensive suit quickly before leaving the plane. He got his two suitcases after practically barging through crowds of passengers and walked past a few of the airport shops before going through another door. Hundreds of people were crowded around the airport, waiting for arriving people or waiting for something else. It was packed, even by airport standards. He could see signs with various names scrawled on various signs being held up by people in fancy chauffer uniforms. Darryl could hear the loud murmur of the people which wasn't doing any justice to his jet-lag. But it wasn't the crowd he was interested in. He was looking for Packie. A yellow taxi was 'just a license to steal' in Packie's words so he offered to pick him up. "Where is he?" Darryl asked himself as he wandered around. There were so many people; it would be hard to distinguish his cousin from hundreds of faces. Trying to shout for him would be pointless as he'd have to scream from the top of his lungs to be heard over the crowd. And he wasn't that foolish. Taking the best decision, he left the terminal to escape some of the noise and took out his phone to call Packie. "Packie man, where are ya?" asked Darryl. "I'm comin, don't worry." grinned Packie before hanging up. As soon as he hung up, a green Cognoscenti parked up next to Darryl and the doors opened "Shay! My man." Packie hugged his cousin. "Shit Packie, it's been too long." laughed Darryl as he let go of Packie. "If only Katie could see ya now…" Packie had sounded less enthusiastic as he opened the trunk. Darryl could see in his eyes that he was more devastated with Katie's death then he was letting on. "Sweet ride Packie. You steal this shit?" Darryl was admiring the Cognoscenti and got in. "Nah man, it dropped outta the blue sky. Of course I fucking stole it." laughed Packie, closing the boot and getting in the car. "I wish that Ma, Derrick and Gerry were here to see ya, Shay." said Packie as he started the car and drove off. "What's up with your Ma and Derrick? How long is Gerald in the slammer for?" Darryl opened the windows. "Ma's friends took her out to cheer her up a bit, Derrick was jonesing for a hit so you can guess where the damn smackhead is and Gerry is staying in jail for a long time." replied Packie. "Speaking of drugs, you should lay off the fucking chop Patrick. Pretty soon, you'll care more about coke then women and that is terrible." Darryl never approved of his cousin's cocaine habit in the past and he still didn't. "Yeah yeah Shay, you ain't the boss of me."

Eventually, the car pulled up next to a block of houses. "Savannah Avenue. Hasn't changed one bit." Darryl started to reminisce a little, like an old sage decades older than his youthful self. "Yeah, it's been like what, 10 years since you last visited?" said Packie, turning off the car. Darryl and Packie went into their house with the two suitcases. Seeing everything the same as it was brought even more memories back for Darryl. "Don't just stand there like an idiot, go and sit down. I'll grab us a few beers." said Packie, heading to the kitchen. Darryl walked to the living room and sat down on the tattered sofa. Photos of the McReary family were on the walls and the walls had a few cracks from back in the day when the McReary boys had fights every so often. The one crack in the wall that stood out was from when Darryl and Patrick had a particularly gruesome fist-fight with Francis. The copper was Darryl's least favourite cousin; he had many traits that Darryl hated. A hypocritical snake of a cop who hid behind some shiny rent-a-cop badge and used the lowest of blackmail tactics. "Aye, I remember that crack you made in the wall." laughed Packie as he saw what Darryl was gazing at. "Here Shay, the finest beer to come outta Ireland." Packie passed him a pint of Guinness. As the two cousins conversed, a loud thump came from upstairs followed by some mumbling. "Probably Derrick." sighed Packie as he drank down some Guinness. Soon enough, footsteps and the creaking of the staircase was heard and Derrick stumbled into the room. "I thought you were going out to get smacked outta ya head?" "I ain't got enough money. Curse me demons…" Derrick mumbled. The heroin addict looked up like he only just realised his cousin was there. "Shay? Seamus?" asked Derrick. "Hey mate." Darryl stood up to hug him and realised just how long it was since he last visited. "I'm…glad to see ya Darryl…" said Derrick between breaths, stumbling down to the sofa. "Did you fall from Cloud Nine or some shit?" Packie commented as he shook his head at Derrick's heroin antics. "Shut it Packie…I've just got a fucking headache…and I'm…." sighed Derrick and before the pair knew it, he fell asleep. "Forget him, let's go for a ride." The two left Derrick to his sleep while they got back in the Cognoscenti. "You mind if I drive?" asked Darryl. "Sure, as long as you don't wreak the car. It may not be mine legally but I went through a car chase with Liberty City's finest to get this car." Packie tossed the keys to him.

"Yo, this is DJ Mista Cee on tha mic!!! Next up, this is 'Dandy Cop' by my man, 50 Per-Cent! Later on, my boys 'Liberty MC' and 'Dizzy Riz' will be steppin into the studio for a lil'freestyle so don't be turning!"

Darryl raised his eyebrow and changed the radio station to something more ambient. "It's time to do a little sightseeing, Shay my boy." said Packie. They drove around the Dukes area before moving into the 'Russian' territory of Broker. "Now I see why America is so fat. Look how many goddamn Burger Shots and Cluckin Bells there are. Could probably kill you faster than a bullet to the brain." Darryl had glanced at the several fast-food places with disgust. "Since when did you become Gillian Mc Fucking Keith?" joked Packie as he raised an eyebrow. Darryl drove past the burnt out remains of the old taxi depot and the bowling alley before nearing the 69th Street Diner. As they stopped behind a line of traffic, Packie asked him a question. "Shay my boy, what do you think of Liberty City so far?" Darryl hadn't taken his eyes off the road. "It's alright. Not very different from Ire-" Darryl was interrupted by a deep, Russian sounding accent and the fact that a Deagle was poking at the side of his head. "Get out the car very slowly or I'll blow your head off!" Darryl didn't flinch while Packie just gazed at the man slyly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Packie sounded too cocky for the Russian's liking and his trigger finger was itching. Before he knew it, Darryl dragged the Russian by the arm into the car and gripped his arm in a lock so tightly; the Russian released his Deagle while screaming his head off. Managing to wriggle his arm out of the tight grip, the Russian ran into the alleyways while hurling all kinds of insults. "If you're gonna kill the bastard then you're gonna a better weapon then that cap gun." Packie had pointed to the glove compartment. The glove compartment had a Desert Eagle inside with a few clips. Darryl opened the door and ran after him like lightning. "Go on, Shay." Packie said coolly before driving off.

"Fuck with me, you're fucking with Russian Mafia, dipshit!" The Russian shouted before knocking over a few bins. "You're just another fresh-off-the-boat punk!" Darryl leapt over the bins and fired two shots. One bullet barely missed the guy's shoulder while the other made a hole in a trash bin. "Slippery little fucker aren't ya?" smirked Darryl. The Russian ran onto traffic. Darting to the nearest vehicle, which was a taxi, the Russian slugged the taxi driver and pulled him out before accelerating. Darryl watched the taxi 'speed' off and a Dark Grey F620 just happened to be there amidst all the chaos. "Mind if I take this off your hands?" asked Darryl as he attempted to drag the driver out. Seeing as he was a mere corporate pencil-neck, the driver was soon flat on the ground with gravel on his face while Darryl wasted no time in chasing the little Russian.

"Come on. Stop and let's talk like reasonable people. While I smash your face against a brick wall." The F620's engine roared like a supercar out of Top Gear. It drove elegantly like a stallion and handled twice as well. The rugged taxi was struggling to escape the F620's horsepower and swerved out of control, into a particularly bulky pick-up truck. Leaving the crushed and now un-driveable vehicle, the Russian tried to crawl away pitifully as his blood left small drops on the dull coloured road. The Irishman casually stopped the car and started to rev the engine. Knowing that death was imminent, the Russian accepted what was coming and stopped in his tracks. "Go ahead, kill me! When they find out I'm dead, they'll cut your balls off! Sergei, Josef, Dejan, they'll all gut you!" Darryl just ignored his grimace expression and let go of the brakes. The F620 trampled over the now-deceased man at quick speed. Looking at the rear-view mirror, Darryl cared more for the bloodstains and dents on his newly acquired car then he did for this Russian man whose name he never got. "Russian Mafia? Heh, they don't even know who the fuck I am." Packie's green Cognoscenti parked up beside him soon enough. "Saw your car chase, Shay my boy. Your driving skills ain't half bad. Should do some street racing sometime." Packie took a look at the corpse while Darryl just pondered about the names the Russian man mentioned. The sirens started wailing in the distance but neither batted an eyelid. "C'mon, let's get outta here." Darryl motioned and the two drove off, leaving the body for the LCPD to find. Unbeknownst to the two of them, they were being followed and watched earlier by a Japanese Yakuza in a flashy suit with a flashy yellow Comet to match. "A McReary boy eh? And a decent driver too. Aniki (Japanese Honorific for 'Older Brother' or 'Superior') might want to know about this."

The next day……

The house was silent as the grave. The glaring red sun was already above with the aqua-blue sky. Today was the day of Katie's funeral and only the sounds of chirping birds or beeping cars every now and again broke the silence. Darryl seemed to be the only one downstairs, already fully clothed in a black suit. He spent the night in Katie's bedroom and although it was clean and nicely decorated, Darryl still felt a premonition. Like he was trespassing. Maureen, or Auntie McReary as he still called her, said it was nothing to worry about but it still didn't put him at ease. Maybe it was just the loss of a loving cousin like Katie that kept him up. Dinner yesterday was as silent as today. Auntie McReary cooked up a delicious pot roast with juicy beef that still kept Darryl full even now. No-one had said a word during dinner or even afterwards, no-one knew what to say. The family was shrinking with Gerry in prison, possibly for life, and Katie and Francis both dead. Who was going to be next? Auntie? Derrick? Patrick? Or even Darryl himself? "No." Darryl said to himself. He decided that it wouldn't let anything happen to his family. He felt as though he could've stopped it. Maybe, maybe he thought. If he had been here earlier, maybe Gerry wouldn't be incarcerated and maybe he could've saved Katie. Francis was a give or take because Darryl couldn't guarantee he would ever have saved him. With the family persuading him, Darryl decided to live here in Liberty City permanently. Eventually, he would go back to Ireland but his place right now was with his family.

"Darryl, you're up early." Darryl glanced over his shoulder to find Auntie McReary, also already dressed and ready for the funeral. They wouldn't have to go for a couple of hours. "Couldn't sleep?" Auntie McReary walked over to a cupboard and took out two coffee mugs. "I know what'll help, some good old-fashioned Irish coffee." As Auntie McReary stared brewing two Irish coffees, Darryl couldn't bring himself to say anything. Ever since yesterday, Auntie started clinging onto him a bit. It was normal from Darryl's point of view; she lost three of her children after all and she wanted to cling onto her few remaining family members. Darryl just stared into the cream of the coffee while Auntie was putting on a brave face for her nephew's sake. "I miss her….." said Darryl, breaking the silence. "How do you do it? How do you cope with losing Katie?" Auntie put her arm around Darryl to comfort him. "When you've lost two of your children, you get used to being so sad. Kate, she was special and she loved you like a brother. She's in a better place now, in heaven, watching over us." Auntie McReary let out a comforting smile and it worked. Darryl smiled as well; even it was a little one. Though he lost belief in the supposedly glorious religion he grew up with and questions it to this day, he daren't say so to his religious auntie. "Now drink your coffee and I'll cook us a nice fry-up while we wait for those boys." Auntie had finished the last of her creamy coffee and got up to prepare breakfast. Though a normal person wouldn't see it, Darryl could see that she was near breaking point. It was admirable that she soldiered on. But that's who she was. An admirable person. Packie walked in, all neatly suited up. The cocaine addicted comedian that Darryl grew accustomed to was not there today. In his place was an empty shell of a man. "Packie?" Darryl placed a hand on his shoulder and the only reply he got was a simple nod. A thud came from upstairs, like something fell on the floor. "Derrick. Probably the only one who could sleep." commented Auntie McReary. "I wonder how he was able to get some sleep if none of us could." Darryl glanced up briefly at the ceiling. "He could sleep through a fire, ol' Derrick." Darryl could tell that Packie tried to crack a joke but it came out bleakly. After Derrick came down, the four ate breakfast in silence like last night. Darryl could barely eat stomach anything. He felt like his stomach was in knots and just wanted to get the funeral over with. The doorbell rang and all four of them almost jumped. "I guess it's time." Packie said, lowering his head. Leaving their plates, they walked over to the door and a bald man clad in a black suit stood with his head down too. He seemed older then Derrick and had a certain…aura about him, like a sage. It's probably nothing, Darryl thought. "Are you ready to go?" The man asked. Packie replied with a simple nod and while Packie closed and locked the door, the three men and Auntie McReary approached the cars. Two black Feroci's were parked with a Romero hearse in between. Katie's coffin was lying at the back, surrounded by big flowers. Auntie McReary pressed her hand against the window and cried immediately. Darryl hugged her and gave her a shoulder to cry on. "It's alright Auntie, it's alright." Darryl repeated himself over and over while getting a tear or two in his eyes. "C'mon Ma." Derrick guided Auntie McReary to one Feroci while Packie and Darryl went to the other one. "Oh God Shay…." Packie clutched his head and Darryl put his arm around him. "C'mon cousin. It's alright. We'll get through this." Both men got in the Feroci and the chauffer waited for the signal to go. An arm stuck out of the hearse window, giving the signal. The three cars started driving at a slow pace and started their journey to the church in Suffolk, Algonquin.

Packie was still clutching his head in pain. "Packie?" Darryl put his arm around Packie once again. "I'm alright, I'm fine." He shrugged off Darryl's arm. "I just…Just can't believe this is actually happening. I can't believe that Katie is actually dead and we're actually going to her funeral and we're actually not dreaming." Packie let out a few tears while Darryl struggled to keep his emotions in. "Shay…What do I do? I don't know what to do. The family is falling apart, the family is no longer like it was back in the day and my life is wasted on fucking chop!" Packie raised his voice in anger or despair. "Don't worry Packie. I'll help us restore the family status, I ain't going anywhere. But lay off the fucking chop first Packie. No wonder the family isn't as powerful as back in the day when you're snorting money up your big nose." Packie tried to laugh but he couldn't so he smiled a little. "Fuck you Shay." Packie said jokingly. "But I'll say one thing that you probably won't fucking hear from me again. You're right. Gerry was doing a fine job running the family until he got hauled in, Lord knows Derrick ain't exactly Napoleon what'shisname and because of me, we're nothin more then hired guns, whoring ourselves out to guido mafias who are too lazy to scratch their own asses." A sigh passed his lips before he carried on. "Now's not really the time to be talking about that. We should be thinking about what we're going to say at the funeral." Packie took out a rough piece of folded paper from his pocket and on it was scruffy writing. "A speech huh?" Darryl had then forgotten that he was going to speak as well. "What about you Darryl? What are you going to say?" Packie asked. "I'm just going to wing it." Darryl replied after a long thought.

The cars arrived at the church in Suffolk where a lot of cars were already stationary. Many of her colleagues at work or friends had good memories of her so it was no surprise that there was a big turnout. Packie felt shivers down his spine as he looked at the church, which seemingly looked old and out of place with the modern, high-tech skyscrapers of Algonquin. The fact that Francis's funeral was here and now Katie's was here made both him and Darryl feel another premonition, like when he was in Katie's room. "Why does it have to be the same church?" Packie mumbled. Darryl stepped inside the worn-out church to find it already packed. The first row was reserved for the McRearys while every other row was for Katie's friends and acquaintances. Quite a few distinctive people caught his eye. On the second row, there was a fat Serbian man accompanied by a pregnant Puerto Rico woman. Behind them were two Jamaican looking men with their heads down and a bald muscular man strangely flexing and talking to himself. Darryl also noticed a rather effeminate man crying dramatically at the back. He turned around to see Packie outside conversing with another Serbian man who contrasted greatly to the fatter man. This man, he looked trim and had scars on his face. He had a look about him; like a wounded soldier. Packie called him over and Darryl got a closer look at the man. Though Darryl was taller and slightly more muscular, he would still think twice about taking on a man like him. "Shay, this is Niko Bellic, a hard-ass Slavic hitman who arrived to Liberty City fresh-of-the-boat. Well, ex-hitman nowadays. Niko, this is my cousin Darryl, an equally hard-ass killer fresh from the green pastures of Ireland." Darryl and Niko both shook hands quite firmly. "Hello. Packie tells me a bit about you." Niko glanced briefly at Packie. "Yeah, I bet he does. So, how do you know Katie?" Darryl asked, assuming Niko was perhaps just an acquaintance or work colleague. "I was her boyfriend...I loved that girl." Darryl was taken aback a bit. He didn't think Katie would have fallen for a Serbian hitman like Niko. "Ah....so, ex-hitman?" Niko nodded. "Yes, I have gotten out of that world. For my cousin, for his wife and for his child. I own a small construction firm now." A brief silence occurred before Packie broke it. "Shay. You go inside and take a seat. I'll take care of things." Darryl nodded and walked back up the stone stairs. He walked down the aisle and took a seat at the first row next to Derrick. "Is Gerry coming?" Darryl glanced behind, eager to see him. He was hoping that Gerry would at least be allowed to attend his sister's funeral. "No idea Seamus. Gerry got into a prison fight not too long ago so I've got no idea." Darryl shook his head. After what seemed like hours, the last of the guests came in and Gordon Sergeant had shut the wooden church door. The vicar had stepped up to the podium and Darryl took a deep breath as the hardest time of his life was about to come.....