Empty Chambers

"Grand Theft Auto III: The Novel"

Chapter I

Flames roared behind us as black smoke bellowed from the charred armored van we had been held captive in just moments ago. The bomb had erupted in the middle of the Callahan Bridge, shattering the middle that now lay at the bottom of the ocean. It was impossible to jump the missing section of the bridge, which meant we were stuck in Portland for now. Sirens screamed not far from where we were.

"I know a place in the Red Light District where we can lay low. But my hands are all messed up, so you better drive, brother." 8-Ball was an African American male who had about an inch on me. He had a cutthroat presence about himself that made some feel uneasy around him, I know I had the first time I was put into the cell with him. He was serving sixteen years without the chance of parole for the bombing of three factories back in 2002. In the incident, and estimated 40 people were killed or injured, including civilians, and over $800,000 in property damage. He was an expert with explosives of all kinds; grenades, remote-detonated satchels, vehicle bombs, the whole nine yards. He was partially deaf in his right ear, even though he had never come out and actually admitted it, too many accidental explosions I supposed.

The fire behind us did nothing to heat the night air's unmerciful chill. I jumped into a light blue Kuruma that was nearby. The driver had neglected to take his keys with him, but I guess they wouldn't be of much use without his car. The engine roared to life as my foot slammed on the gas pedal. As we fish-tailed around the corner, a police cruiser slammed into the back of our car, sending us into a sick rotation. The passenger side of our now damaged Kuruma slammed into the side of a tall brick building. 8-Ball leaned over, bumping into me, in fear of being smashed into the wall. He gripped the door handle as I sped away as fast as I could, the police car now in close pursuit. I managed to swerve around a few cars, but the paddy-wagon slammed into the rear end of a Mule.

"Turn here!" 8-Ball yelled, pointing to an opening between two buildings on the right. I hand-braked into a little alleyway to the right. The smoking police car zoomed past, it sirens blazing for a second.

"We can get some fresh clothes here." 8-Ball said. We were still in our orange jumpsuits that the prison warden had been so kind to give us. We walked into a room below a sign that blinked 'Eddie's'.

"I know this guy named Luigi, he owns the Sex Club 7 not to far from here. He can get you hooked up." We were back in the Kuruma now; the back door had been caved in a little. I had chosen a black bomber-style jacket and some green cargo pants. It wasn't the best outfit, but it was that or neon yellow pants and a matching checkered shirt, plus the jacket and cargo pants seemed more durable. I backed out of the little alleyway and back out onto the street, almost smashing into the side of a Taxi. The taxi driver honked and yelled a few kind words with a nice little gesture of a certain finger.

We reached the club in less than a minute, it was around the block. I had been in Liberty City for a couple of weeks before going to prison, so I was familiar with landscape and buildings.

"Let's go round back." I followed 8-Ball to the back service door. He pounded on the door with his fist the best he could. A man in a neatly pressed black suit came out. He wore black sunglasses that hid his eyes and his hair was greased back.

"How's it going my man?" 8-Ball said doing some bizarre handshake. "You don't mind if I go inside, do ya?"

The man simply nodded.

Halfway in the door, 8-Ball spun around and said, "And by the way, this is Vince. He's pretty good and can get jobs done." With that 8-Ball twirled back around and proceeded inside.

A few moments later a smaller guy who was also sporting a fake designer suit stormed outside. He was obviously pissed about something.

"You, you're Vince right?" I nodded. "There's this goddamned Diablo guy who thinks he can pimp my girls under my fucking nose! Get rid of him!"

He stomped back inside the club, and his employee followed him in. The service door was slammed shut and I was left in the dark little alley.

I turned and walked back to my car and got inside. I was going to need some kind of weapon in order to fulfill this job. Right now I didn't have any. I didn't have any money either, which had just now come to my realization. Shit.

I drove around for awhile thinking of possible ways to obtain a gun. I thought about jumping a gang member and taking his, but it was too risky, I could be killed by all of his fellow gangsters. I thought about killing a cop, they would have a piece for sure, but I quickly erased that thought from my mind. That was fucking suicide with no gun. Then it hit me, the perfect plan. I accelerated on the gas hard as I maneuvered my way through traffic. I saw the hospital straight ahead, and then turned right, arriving at my destination. Two police cars were parked in the lot of the Police Station by Trenton.

I walked over to the one of the police cars and tried to pry open the door. Nothing. It was locked. I found a rock about the size of my fist nearby and smashed open the window. The alarm sounded immediately. I had about a second to act. I unlocked the door and thrust it open and hotwired it. I sped out of the parking lot as policemen rushed out of the station, guns in hand. Bullets shattered the windows as I made my getaway.

Traffic was heavy and I couldn't squeeze my car around it so I had no choice but to plow my way through. Horns blared loudly and many polite phrases were yelled in my general direction. My progress was very slow and I begin to get a little anxious. A single policeman came running towards my door. I grabbed a nine-millimeter from the console. I noticed a shotgun that was hanging on the metal cage behind me.

I trained the pistol on the cop's head and stared at him for a second. He was plump and having a difficult time getting to me. He probably was only in his late thirty's and probably had a wife and kids at home. Bam! A dark hole appeared in his forehead and fell back onto the hood of a car. I put the smoking pistol in my jacket pocket.

As the officer's lifeless body slid off the hood and fell to the pavement, I gave the gas pedal one last push. My foot smashed the pedal into the floor of the car and the paddy wagon finally broke through the barrier of cars. As I sped away from the large mess I had just created, I rammed into the side of a green van that pulled out in front of me. My engine erupted into a fire. Dammit. I quickly snatched the shotgun from its rack. I also grabbed a few extra shells and put them into my pockets.

I leaped out of the car and dashed from it as fast as I could with the added weight of the shotgun. The car exploded seconds after my departure from it. The explosion caused me to stumble a bit, but I managed to keep my balance.

A red convertible Stallion drove up in front of me and stopped. The driver honked the horn consecutively. I ran over to the driver's side and blew his brains out with the pistol. After throwing his body to the ground, I raced towards Pay 'n' Spray.

It wasn't long before I had gotten there and entered. When I came out my Stallion was sparkling blue. I drove normally for now, searching for the pimp. It didn't take me long to spot him. He was down in Hepburn Heights macking on some hookers next to his Diablo Stallion. He was dressed in a ridiculous purple suit and hat.

I accelerated towards him. The hookers saw and managed to dodge my car by inches. But the pimp didn't spot me till it was too late. His body was crumpled underneath my car after a devastating blow from the front bumper. I drove away from the scene. I was sure he was dead, and if he wasn't, he'd be a fucking vegetable for the rest of his life.