I awoke as I normally do, at 11 in the morning, yet still tired. Probably the weed. Yeah, definitely the weed. It was shitty weed anyways. I walked upstairs and made a protein shake, the closest thing to "healthy" that I consume. Tasted like shit, but whatever. As you can tell, I'm in a good spot. And yes, I am bragging about it. Fuck it. I'm rich as hell. Who wouldn't fucking brag?
I made a fortune on the BAWSAQ market, even though I don't know shit about math. Made millions, actually. I spent it all on luxuries. Moved out of Liberty City, bought a penthouse in Los Santos. Bought 10 cars, tons of clothes, designer art, fine wines. Man am I living. And I'm only 27! I race cars now, and that brings in tons of cheddar too. I remember when I was in Liberty City, scrounging through garbage cans for food. Fuck that! Stole a ton of money on a heist, put it into stocks, and BAM! Here I am, shitting away my time in Los Santos. I suppose I'll tell you how I got here, what I did. It's quite a story. Sit down, and you might learn something on what it truly means to succeed.
It was 2008. I was living in Liberty City, on the streets. I was a hard dude, so the cold and drug addicts didn't really trouble me much. Nothing really did. I worked small jobs, Burger Shot, you know, that kind of shit. By the way, I curse a lot, so if you get squeamish reading that, then you've got a shitstorm coming for you my friend. Anyways, flipping burgers didn't really "Suit my talents", or my pockets. So I decided to try elsewhere. I knew people, other hobos or poor guys. They tried to help me out, but they also had nothing, so it was mostly emotional support, which I didn't need. The guy who got me started to the top was a Jamaican, Little Jacob.
Little Jacob was a crazy fucker, wasted 24/7. He got me in on a job. He paid me to kill a dealer. Easy right? Actually, yes. Not even sarcastically did I mean that. I was good at killing, at taking a target and dealing the hits out. I did that for a while, raking in a good sum of cash. Most of it went back into my "business". By July 2008, I was well known around the city as one of the best hitmen in the business. I was effiecient, quick, quiet. I had two other guys working with me now, David and Niko. (No, it's not Niko Bellic for all you fanboys.) David and Niko were decent men, and worked with me on several jobs.
Then David got into the private investigating scene. Niko went with him, along with most of my business. I found it hard to pull of big assassinations without help. I couldn't find anybody that could stay undetected for more than tiny jobs, so I scrapped the business. I started robbing convienience stores. To make matters worse, David and Niko were growing, and slowly became one of those "started from the bottom, now we're here" sort of stories. They started sending their mercenaries after me. Their company was called Merryweather.
