Shamrock: A Grand Theft Auto IV Story
Packie pulled back his jet black jacket and revealed the Glock; it was stuffed in his trouser front, forcing his crisp, white shirt to crease. He pulled out the weapon with a swift hand movement, before pulling back the hammer and blowing a hole into the mans head. That man was one of his closest friends, Gordon Sargent.
"Sorry Gord." Packie never wanted to do this, not to one of his own.
Blood drops had been sprayed on to his jacket, the claret surprisingly revealing on his usually tidy suit.
The one thing I actually decide to keep clean. Packie thought to himself.
He knew it was a callous thought to have after murdering one of his friends, but he wasn't a man of peace. Even Sargent knew that, he even accompanied Packie and Niko to the Ancelotti waste disposal plant, getting rid of its members. Then he volunteered and abided in their kidnapping of Grace Ancelotti, keeping her captive for days until compromise had been made.
Nothing mattered to Packie now, his family had been betrayed. Derrick had been shot only the year before, the short term effects had already set in before Kate had been shot by Jimmy Pegorino and his mob. All at a wedding too. The McReary Family had been dealt blow after blow after blow, Packie tried to show the others that it hadn't dampened his spirits, but it had, it ate him up inside like a virus.
As he walked out of the apartment, he heard the familiar sounds of the Liberty City Police sirens.
"Here we go again…" Packie sighed as he pulled out his pistol once again, caressing the smooth handle before gripping his fingers around trigger.
He ducked behind the Presidente, it was maroon coloured, but the usually flawless bodywork was about to be ruined by the gunshots of trigger-happy cops. The police cruisers swerved to a ninety degree angle, perfectly allowing the officers to get out and take pot shots at Packie's vehicle.
Just as expected, a bullet skimmed the top of the hood, with a sharp sounding ricochet. A crackle of a police radio came into life.
"We got a Caucasian male here, looks mid-twenties, early thirties, approach with caution, he has a sidearm and has already fired shots, I repeat, he has fired shots. Over."
Packie scoffed as more bullets hit the opposite side of his car, their dull thuds in a symphony of death.
"Pigs!" Packie screamed as he blind fired the police cars, he hit one police officer in his shoulder.
"Shit! Patterson!" The attending officer's radio came to life. "We got a man down here, he's injured; this bastard knows what he's doing. Over"
Packie then heard a loud crack above his head; they had caught his window, the glass shattering down on to his head embarking in a cascade of light and colour through the afternoon sun.
"Fuck you assholes!" yelled Packie as he threw a brick over the roof of the maroon Presidente. It clanged into the door of a patrol car, a noisy thud sounded out and a large dent appeared in the 'O' of the 'Police' motif.
As they were distracted, Packie made his move, sprinting to a nearby tree, and diving over the fence into a garden. Little did he know, he was tumbling headfirst into a swimming pool. The dense splash alerted the owner's presence. He rushed to the door in a towel and matted hair.
"Hey prick, you think it's funny doin-"
The man had little chance to finish his sentence before Packie shot him in the face, his teeth had been cracked by the shrapnel, but that was the least of his worries, he had a hole in the back of his head.
A woman screamed in panic as Packie walked through the house aggressively, complimenting the shrieking woman as he kicked the front door in. The adjacent street greeted him, people now cowering in fear at this man in a black suit; his brown eyes pierced a NRG-900 bike that had recently been left standing as its possessor had stopped to talk at a friend's house. Packie jumped on and started her up.
Keys left in? Packie thought quizzically. Amateur.
Packie raced off on the bike, knocking over an elderly lady as he cut a corner and jumped the traffic lights. But again, the familiar sound of sirens arrived.
Just like Broker. His mind ran with thoughts. Where to go, what to do, why?
He changed gear before taking a grenade off his belt, ready for the five seconds that it would be needed.
Another police cruiser took the space in front of him, he skid the bike on its side to avoid it, before the car reversed quickly. The light hum getting louder as the officer went into gear.
The cruiser was following him but Packie was ready, the bullhorn sounding off some thick skulled cop's voice.
"Pull over; this is the LCPD, stop now!"
Packie laughed to himself before he saw the Broker Bridge standing before him monolithically, its steel girders towering over the insignificant people below, the afternoon sunlight breaking through the arches and bathing a soaking wet Packie in its warmth. They had cordoned off the bridge, NOOSE Patriots barricading his way. Packie had had enough of this cat and mouse chasing.
He stopped the bike and positioned himself between two Patriots before revving up the bike and careering towards them. NOOSE Officers carrying SMG machineguns fired, missing the weaving motorcycle as Packie pulled the pin out of the grenade with his teeth. He rode past at the right moment, dropping the grenade by the feet of a lying NOOSE officer.
It bounced off the cracked road surface, once, two times, before Packie had ridden past the barricade. He performed a wheelie as he let go, spinning the bike around at the right moment to watch the explosion, the orange colours danced in his eyes, black plumes of smoke rising from the thrown wreckages of the destroyed vehicles.
A grin crept across his lips as he drove away; news helicopters circled the carnage like vultures hungry for their scavenged meals. Packie cared less and drove on.
Niko awaited him in Algonquin, checking his Whiz! phone as Packie arrived.
"Packie!" said Niko in a familiar accent. "What the hell did you want?"
"I need to know who betrayed my family Niko. I need to know now."
Niko put his fist to his chin thoughtfully, looking upwards with his dark eyes at the Algonquin sky. Packie, shuffled awkwardly, as if to draw Niko's attention away, it failed, and Niko continued staring.
Packie's eyes moved downwards to the curb, wondering who could betray his family like this, knowing that they were going to pay.