(Just a heads up! The following is a prologue to a piece of fan-fiction set after GTA IV and V, eventually allowing the two stories to cross over. Obviously in GTA IV the player was allowed to make a series of choices. In this case, Niko helped Francis McReary to kill his brother Derrick in the mission 'Blood Brothers', but that's all you need to know for now!)
The Soviet Connection
Prologue
Lightning struck twice that night. Francis McReary had never considered himself the superstitious type, but when he saw that second lightning bolt flash, and heard the crackling roar of thunder that followed keenly without failure, he decided to leave his office an hour earlier that night. The Deputy Commissioner took one final swig of black coffee out of his mug that proudly bore the LCPD's emblem. His coffee was cold, and the sickly taste of cold coffee had now glued itself to Francis' taste buds. But Francis had become used to ending his day with a bad taste in his mouth, though this was most commonly due to the kind of scum he had to deal with every day of his working life. Today, Francis McReary had been up to his shoulders in the files of various lowlifes and scumbags who had escaped from The Alderney State Correctional Facility during an unanticipated riot caused by the Lost and Damned Motorcycle Club, who were essentially just another group of lowlifes and scumbags that Francis knew he would one day have to deal with. These files that Francis was required to familiarise himself with had almost bored the Deputy Commissioner to death. Whether it was down to grand theft auto, assault, armed robbery, hijacking, possession of a controlled substance or all of the above, Francis could tell a lot about a suspect from the crimes listed on their files. Tonight, Francis had gotten through a pile almost a foot tall of those files. He grabbed his coat from his peg and swung it over his shoulder before picking up his suitcases, heavy with homework, and taking once last glance at his desk. Beside the foot-high pile of files stood another pile, this one twice as tall, of similar files Francis had yet to look over. There was something to look forward to. For a taster of the kind of scum Francis would have to deal with tomorrow, he picked the file on the top of the giant pail and flicked through it. Though Francis soon wished he hadn't, Francis opened the file to find a mug shot of the suspect and their name. In large, black, bold writing read: GERALD MCREARY.
That was when lightning struck a third and final time. The lightning dazzled the room in a sudden flash of white, before leaving it alone and empty in complete pitch black darkness, with Francis lost in the midst of it. Francis found himself stuck in the middle of a power out, likely caused by the ravaging storm that had reached Liberty City, and was seemingly here to stay. Francis was still and silent, unable to bring himself to move. For as long as he could remember, Francis had been afraid of the dark. At least in the light, you could see the monsters that were sure to be there. In the darkness, you could see, hear or feel them until they had their wet, cold hands wrapped around your throat. By then, it was too late. Suddenly, Francis remembered he was in fact not alone. Ron, the security guy, was on duty tonight. Francis remembered the thoughtless greeting he had given him when he had arrived, and the empty promise he'd made him to go out for a coffee sometime. Francis darted to his desk, moving fast before the monsters found him. He grabbed the telephone of his desk, praying that it would still be working. But his prayers had gone unanswered. What had he really expected? As he held the phone to his ear, Francis heard nothing but dead silence. But that dead silence was disrupted by a long, shrill creak as the door to Francis' office swung open, and a figure cloaked by the darkness stepped inside.
"Hello?" Francis called out to the monster in his room. When he was a kid, Francis checked under his bed for monsters before sleep every night up until he turned fifteen. Now, Francis realised he would have to start checking under his desk. That was, if this monster left his office peacefully. "I know you're out there," Francis assured the monsters as he reached into his jacket and gripped the 9mm pistol concealed in its holster. "Show yourself!"
Lightning struck again. This strike was closer, however, and the roar that followed shook the wood beneath Francis' feet. The flash of white light that filled the room revealed the monster's true colours, but only for a brief second. In that flash, Francis saw a ghost. He could have sworn that, stood across his office with blood dripping from his knuckles, stood his brother Gerald as pale as a ghost. Francis had been right after all, there had been a monsters in his room growing up. But this wasn't the king that hid under your bed. It had always been right in front of him. Sometimes, it even slept in the bed next to him.
"Hello, brother," Gerald replied in a cold, empty voice that made the grey hairs on Francis' neck stand up. "We need to talk," he said as he took steps towards Francis. The wooden floor creaked painfully with every step he took. "We need to talk about Derrick."
The words made Francis' heart sink until he was sure he was going to collapse. But it was Francis' job to lock monsters like this away, even if they were family. "Your brother made a series of bad choices," Francis explained to Gerald, who continued to approach Francis. Francis began to take steps back. "Those choices had consequences," he said, stepping backwards until he felt the bookcase behind him. "And your brother eventually suffered those consequences." Though he was hidden in the relentless darkness of that room, Francis knew his brother was there. He could hear his breath and taste the alcohol in it touch his tongue. "Your brother pissed off all the wrong people, and he paid for it."
Gerald took a deep breath, and put a hand over Francis and against the bookcase. His touch was so heavy that it knocked a book out of its place on the shelf. It landed between Francis' feet. "He was your brother too," Gerald reminded Francis, his voice so heavy that Francis felt he was being punched, although that could have been the reek of whiskey on his breath.
Francis then thought about his own words. It appeared he too had pissed off the wrong person, and he was about to pay for it. "Why are you here, Gerald?" He asked, still playing the innocent, even though no other man in the city had as much blood on his hands as him.
"Because, there's no crime worse than fratricide, Frankie," Gerald explained to his brother. "The only thing possibly worse is matricide, but Ma's been dead inside ever since Derrick died, so you might as well have killed her too." Though each one pained Gerald to say, the words seemed to roll off his tongue so naturally. He wasn't looking at his brother any more, he was looking at a monster. And in every story, the hero always killed the monster.
"Gerald, please, you don't know what you're talking about," Francis urged his brother as he tried to wriggle his way out of his grasp, but Gerald threw him back against the bookcase, and wrung his fat, hairy hands around his neck. Hands that were soaked with fresh blood, likely belonging to Ron the security guy, and were as cold as ice with every touch.
"You ordered the hit on Derrick," he said straight and plainly to his brother, who surprisingly did not deny the accusation. "So, who pulled the trigger?" Gerald asked, his hands tightening around Francis' fragile neck. He was like a toothpick in Gerald's grasp; with very little force he would snap easily. Francis began to struggle for air, his arms flailing helplessly, but two words came clearly with his final breath.
"NIKO. BELLIC," Francis uttered with the only breath he could muster. Gerald, whose whole world had been changed by those two simple words, was so lost in the moment that he didn't release his grip on his brother's neck. He only watched as Francis' eyes rolled backwards and up inside his skull. He released his grip, and his brother's body fell limp to the floor. Within minutes, Gerald was gone. By the time the Deputy Commissioner's body had been discovered, the storm had passed. Lightning struck one final time in the distance before leaving the city to its rest, and the thunder that followed was soft and comforting. Children no longer needed to be afraid. Not of the monster, nor the storm that had joined it.
Hope you guys enjoyed this short piece of fan-fiction. It's essentially a set up to what the story I have planned is all about. Things get pretty crazy pretty quickly after this. So, if you did enjoy it and want to see more, please leave a REVIEW below, and FOLLOW/FAVOURITE to keep up to date with the story!
Thanks for reading!
-George