Niko's hands were calm, smoking would do that, he didn't mean to pick up such a nasty habit, but when the stress became too great, the scent of tobacco always calmed him, he sat in in a mostly empty room, light blue paint covered the walls with slight discolorations over some spots, some of the spots where long faded, the liquid thoroughly dried over months of being ignored. However, some were far from dried, the red splashes clearly visible on the wall only a few minutes old. In the next room a body slowly bubbled and dissolved into the sulfuric acid filled tub. He stood up from his chair and walked into the bathroom, the stench of death filled the air.
The bathroom was stark white, at one point, now rust and grime soaked the once pristine room in a disgusting show of disuse. A simple metal pail sit on the toilet lid, filled to the brim with body parts and chunks of meat and fat off of the targets body, a simple hacksaw sat on the floor, undisturbed in a bright pool of crimson blood.
Normally he wouldn't have taken such a sickening job, but he had no standards anymore, he was a complete whore for money, the late Roman's business had taken a turn for the worse, Mallorie had given birth months before and she o could barely get out of bed to work anymore. To say that Mallorie was on a shoe string budget was a gross understatement. Niko took the hacksaw slowly off of the floor, the blood adding a new coat to his already caked fingers. He then grabbed a large chunk of meat from the pail, and threw it into the acid stew.
He was sick, and he knew it, he had never gained pleasure from killing another human being before, but now it felt like salvation, he was saving g criminals and gangsters from a life of hardship and pain by offering them a much easier way out, or that's what helped him sleep at night. He looks fondly back on his first kill with a sense of nostalgia.
He was just a youth of fifteen; he joined the war with a sense of glamour, the rare times when he had access to the village television, he would spend the odd hours when his father wasn't beating him to watch westerns and war movies, movies where bright eyed youths just like him would go to battle and become battle hardened warriors, spending day and night draped in their home flag, fighting off wave after wave of the enemy.
War was nothing like that. He felt no regret for his first kill. He was clothed in the uniform of the Yugoslav's people's army, freshly cleaned, he was so proud and happy to be a soldier, but his shine would wear off in just a few hours, in the darkness of an alley. A lone SRFY soldier was standing behind a young girl, maybe just a little older than ten years old, Niko heard her screams and cries of help from the street outside, he went to investigate the noise. her dress was thrown over to the side, she was visibly crying into her crossed arms, she was bent over a dumpster and the soldier was behind her, his pants were around his ankles and he was thrusting into her, his grunts and sounds of pleasure sickened Niko, he felt a great hate towards the government, more than ever before.
He removed his knife from his belt; he knew that shooting him would be too loud; he could hear other soldiers in the building next to them, waiting on their turn no doubt. He creeped up behind him, his knife clenched so tight in his hand that the hilt was leaving a deep imprint in his hand, he stood up to his full height of five foot ten, and stuck the knife deep into the soldiers neck, he was going to squeal in fear and pain, but Niko quickly covered his mouth with his hand and pulled him to the ground. He wrestled for a few moments to get the knife out of his neck, but it was stuck tight into his spine, Niko trying to pull out the knife just made the gash deeper, a thick cut was ripped into the soft flesh of the soldiers throat, blood squirted out the wound, it didn't pour, squirted dark red blood onto Niko's jacket.
He felt, good, good that he had taken another's life, other soldiers talked about how it still haunted them as they slept, his first night in the bunks he heard soldiers wake up in cold sweats, praying for forgiveness or fighting off the ghosts of their pasts. He didn't feel that way; he knew that this wouldn't scar him.
He remembered the girl next to him, he looked at her, her nose had been broken and was bleeding profusely, she had gotten her dirty dress back on, but blood still flowed down the side of her thigh.
"Do you have home to go to?" he asked softly, his eyes soft, trying not to traumatize the girl any further.
"M-m-my mother, but she's the one wh-who sold me to them." Her words were saddening, and Niko could feel the only part left of his innocence slipping away with her statement, he couldn't understand why someone would even think about selling their children.
"Take me to her."
She took him by the hand and led him to a small bombed out apartment building, the door was open and a woman sat at a small table facing the door, a cigarette held in he hand, Niko walked in first, the girl trailing him.
"Why'd ya' bring the little cunt back?" she spit out venomously.
Niko lost it, he pulled out his CZ before he even knew it, he didn't even aim, he didn't care, he wanted the bitch to suffer, the first round hit her above the breast, knocking her out of the chair and onto the dirty tile below her. He ran next to her and kept pumping lead into her, as his clip empty and the slide pulled back, no one could recognize the body, her body was destroyed, her face got it the worst, smashed in like she was beaten with a hammer, her brains splattered the ground around her, a popped eyeball, was the only thing you could make out from the pile of gore in the floor. He looked at the girl behind him and asked.
"You got somewhere to go?"
Finished with the fond remembrance, he wondered what happened to the girl; he left her at the orphanage and never saw her again. He grabbed another piece off the pile and tossed it into the acid bath, he was finished with this and dumped the bucket into the bath and left the room, locking the door behind him, it wasn't his room, but Packie loaned it to him to finish the job. Packie had changed quite a bit since the wedding, his hair grew longer and rough beard lined his chin, giving him a wino like look to him, it didn't help that he didn't dress well.
He walked out the front door of the projects and avoided the stares of the gang members to his left. He made a slow walk to his car; people knew not to fuck with him. He had built a reputation for himself, as a stone cold killer and being aggressively antisocial, the only people he talked to where his family, Packie, and the odd slut he picked up at the bar.
He pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it, pulling out his keys and opening the car door, he got in and waited a second before starting the car, pausing to take a long drag from his cigarette, he pushed the key into the ignition and started the car, the yellow turismo's engine roaring to life.
He started the slow drive back to Packie's house, his mother answered the door, greeting him with the same bible thumper bullshit she always greeted guests with, he didn't have much time for religion, he always thought he was too far gone to find god, so he didn't bother.
She lead him into the house, it hadn't changed at all, except for a small in memoriam above the mantle place, celebrating the life of Kate McReary. He was over her death; he hardly felt any more emotion anymore. Packie pulled into a hug a soon as he saw him, whispering into his ear.
"You finish that business for me Niko?" Niko nodded slowly, Packie was overjoyed, the man in question that was enjoying a nice refreshing acid bath was a photographer that had snapped a few eyewitness photos of Packie as he robbed a liquor store in Alderney a few weeks earlier. Niko nodded to signal that he did what was required, Packie broke the hug and picked up a designer bag off of the table and tossed It to him, he picked it up and looked inside, seeing what he was expecting, hundreds of unmarked bills, staring back at him.
He took one of them out and looked it at, solid green, he still couldn't believe his life was based on the pursuit of just a small slip of paper, but with this paper he could have the world. A familiar redhead walked into the room, greeting him with the same amount of warmth as her brother, he was family here, and he was thankful.
He kissed the top of her head, Packie didn't mind the closeness Niko and Kate shared, he was happy that his sister had found someone she liked, not that they were together, they were close friends and that was that. Not that Kate would have minded getting a little closer.
Niko broke off the embrace and resumed talking to Packie about the job, Packie had another one for him, the previous guy enjoying a sulfuric soak didn't have the pictures, this future victims name was Michael, he lived at a small shitty apartment in little Italy, Italy, Niko stopped listening for a moment and remembered a certain girl that wasn't too happy with him that lived in Little Italy, hopefully she wouldn't be out and about this late at night.
He took the photo and another designer bag off of the table and went out on his little errand.
The guy pulled up off of the off ramp into the parking lot of the apartment building, he was small and rat faced, with dark black hair that only hung over one side of his face. A typical pseudo punk hair cut that was getting too popular for Niko's taste.
Niko got out of the car, taking his Glock with him; he walked up to the guy and asked nicely.
"Are you Michael?"
The guy seemed a little frightened at first that he knew him, but then went to an angry sneer.
"Who the fuck's askin'?"
"You don't need to know,"
Niko kicked him the kneecap, dropping him to the floor, he then grabbed him by his popped collar pulled him over and repeatedly slammed his head in the car door, with each slam the face of the punk was getting more and more unfamiliar.
Niko dropped the sobbing punk, took his wallet and a small flash drive he was certain contained the photos, he pulled his gun out of his waistband and fired once into the asshole's head, splattering his precious memories into a soft pink goo all over the parking lot pavement. He then got into his car and sped off into the dark night.
That morning was just like any other, waking up next to some slut he met at that club maisonette 9, he went in because he enjoyed the techno and non-watered down drinks. She had shown interest all night until he managed to get her home for a night fuck, he slipped out of bed quickly and got dressed and whatever he was wearing that day, he hardly paid attention to what he wore anymore, just one of the same seven suits he owned, a new one each day.
The suit of the day in question was a simple back suit with a red tie. He then slipped his pistol from under the counter and placed it into the shoulder holster he purchased after that job last night, he was thankful that they carried them at the arms dealers, he was tired of fearing of blowing his dick off with the gun in his waistband.
He left the door open so she could leave when she wanted to, he then went to meet a fellow by the name of little Jacob, wondering what he had for him to do that day. As he walked up to the speaker box and asked to come in, he heard a very familiar voice.
"Hello, who dis'?"
"It's Niko."
"Oh Niko, was goin' on me bredda, I was wonderin' when you'd be down to see me and ting, seen star."
"Yeah, yeah, open the door please."
He was greeted with a very familiar scent, the scent of finely rolled herbs, he didn't care much for the habit, but he didn't find it as distasteful as heroin or cocaine, he knew what hard drugs did to people, he still remembered Darko Brevic, he left him alive, he knew that living like that would be a much more deserved fate than being blessed with death.
The room was still as dirty and covered in roaches and pizza boxes, it was still comforting to see that certain things hadn't changed, even if life was rapidly moving around him, he could always count on Jacob to still be enjoying pounds of herbs at a time.
Jacob motioned for Niko to sit down in front of him and waited until Niko complied.
"Alright me bredda, I got a real long job for ya' star."
"And what is that?"
"I need you to leave the city for a while."
Jacob's accent vanished with that sentence, it was almost a little jarring to hear him switch from his endearing Jamaican drawl to a simple civilized manner of speaking, it just wasn't like him. Niko felt that all that could change had, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Where do you need me to go?"
"Nowhere, star, I just fuckin' wit ya'."
Well that goes all chances of Niko getting another fresh start.
"I need you to go to a boy's house offa' acter, waste him star."
It seemed that all people did was ask him to murder people. Not that he minded, murdering people, just like how Johnny felt about selling dope, it made him feel alive, human even, even if others thought he was inhuman for murdering. He thought it made him more human.
He got up a waved goodbye to Jacob, walked down the hallway, dodging Badman, who was coming in the front door. Got into his Infernus and sped off.
POV CHANGE
Johnny was nearly run over by a dude in a cage, an Infernus, he hated cars, he had a real bad case of claustrophobia, he used to freak the fuck out when he got into cars, something about being completely enclosed and not being able to feel the wind in his face truly bothered him.
He put his hands in the pockets of his cut and continued walking down the street, he thought back to the events that transpired earlier.
Johnny pumped a few more rounds into a thug, knocking him through a door and into the front door of Ashley's apartment, but he was too late, Ashley was dead, no doubt about it. Beheaded people obviously don't have too great a chance of still being alive; he thought being glib about the whole situation would make him feel better.
It didn't, if anything, it made him feel a lot worse.