3:30am

God damnit, why do these flights always take so long, James thought to himself. He had boarded the flight from Sydney to Liberty City nearly 12 hours ago, and they still had 3 hours to go on the trip. James looked out the window, and could barely make out Los Santos through the clouds.

I should probably try and get some shut-eye, he said, again thinking to himself. He had not slept yet through the 12 hour journey, so getting some sleep now would do him some good, especially since jet-lag could be a bitch. James, a 6-foot nothing business entrepreneur from Australia was heading to Liberty City during his annual leave. He had decided Liberty City over Los Santos, Las Venturas and San Fierro due to the city being revamped since 1990, the last time James had been. He planned on visiting Happiness Island and seeing the newly erected statue that had been put there in 2002 to commemorate the mass murders by Claude Speed. It was rightly named the Statue of Happiness, although it did not symbolize happiness, due to the lower half as well as the very top being covered in graffiti thanks to the wonderful youth of the city.

6:13am

James awoke to the sound of the captain announcing that they were about to descend into Liberty City. He sat up eagerly, fastening his seatbelt as the sign said. He had already organized to be picked up by a taxi and taken to his hotel, where his car, shipped from Australia, would be waiting for him. As the plane started its descent, James looked out the window and stared in awe at the wonders of Liberty City. Rotterdam Tower was lit up and stood fair higher than the rest, and was the first thing that caught James' eye. It was an architectural marvel. In fact, the entire city was. Even as the plane touched down, James was in awe at the airport. It was so… futuristic. He had never seen anything like it.

Before he knew it, the rest of that plane was empty and he was the only one left, with one of the flight attendants asking him to get off the plane. He had daydreamed and had not realized. James stood up, opened the overhead compartment and pulled down his bag, filled with some food he had brought and not eaten. The next hour and a half was spent going through customs and quarantine, meaning he had to surrender the food that had been in his bag. What a waste of 25 dollars, he thought to himself. Once he had finally gotten through all the hustle and bustle of customs, he picked up his baggage and headed outside of the airport. Surely enough, just 100 or so meters from where he was. The man was sitting on the hood of his black Vigero with a sign saying 'James Shaw'. James walked over to the man.



"You James Shaw?" the man asked.

"In the flesh." Replied James.

"Hop in, I'll take you to the hotel."

"Sure thing. Nice ride you got here, how much it set ya back?"

"Ah.. Not much, I got it for cheap, like a couple of grand."

"How fast can she go?"

"Oh.. She can get up there. I topped her at 80 miles."

"Damn! That ain't the original engine is it?"

"Oh god no. Now get in, we gotta get their in… 8 minutes." Looking at his watch as he talked.

"OK. Where is the hotel?"

"On the other side of the city."

"How long would it take to get there?"

"Uhm.. 15 to 20 minutes."

"OK. We have to hurry the fuck up."

James and the driver both hopped in, and he put the pedal to the floor. The back tires spun and spun, kicking up smoke until the car finally started to move. The car snaked for a bit but got going and they were off. The driver had been right when he said the car was fast. It was going to be extremely hard for them to make it to the hotel in the time that the driver had said, but at this pace and with the way the driver was driving, they could possibly make it.

"What is your name, I didn't catch it before." James said, breaking the silence.

"Oh, sorry, Dave, Dave Deskrewitz." The driver replied.

"OK Dave. Do you mind telling me why we are in such a hurry?"

"Someone wants to talk to you?"

"And who might that be?"

"Well that would ruin the entire surprise wouldn't it?" Dave said, looking at James with a smirk on his face, and he pressed a button, locking all the doors.

"Wha… What are you doing?" James stuttered. He knew this was not good.

"We're going on a little ride…" Dave said, and the car suddenly made a sharp right turn, cutting off a taxi whose driver went ballistic.

"You fucking moron, get back here so I can kick your fucking ass! Pussy!"

"Where are we going?" James asked, knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer.

"Well… I'm not going to tell you, but it's a long way from the hotel."

"But why?"

"Because you saw something that you shouldn't have."

James was confused. Actually, he wasn't, but he was trying to look it. He knew exactly what they were talking about.

"What are you talking about?" It was hard to act confused for someone who mainly talked over the phone.

"That night in Los Santos, when you saw…"

"I haven't been to Los Santos."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again."

This guy is good. He isn't a driver, James thought. He had no idea what he was going to do. It was either confess or possibly die. But for all he knew, he could confess then die anyway.

"OK, OK, I saw it." Confessing seemed like the better option.

"Wrong answer."

Then James' world went black.