Chapter 2 – Reveal
Packie was testing the speed-limit as he and Roman crossed the bridge leading from Algonquin to Broker. There was no music on the radio, as neither of the men were in the mood the hear foolish ramblings about a brand new vibrator or whatever. Roam felt his unease increased as the car sped up even more, also at the heavy traffic they were approaching. He gripped his seat belt anxiously, terrified his life might end any second.
"Can you slow down Packie?!" He shrieked, fury lighting up his eyes. "You're driving like a fucking maniac!"
"Shut up! The more time we waste obeying fucking traffic laws the less time we have to get your cousin. Call up Mallorie and vent to her about you being a pussy instead of screaming to me about it." Roman was about to reply with a taunt, but the ringing of a phone interrupted him. Patrick reached into his jean pocket and glanced at the screen before answering.
"Yeah Ma, I'm almost there... No, I'm not buyin' eggs right now." Roman was eased by his own amusement as he listened to Patrick's responses.
"Oh my God. No, Ma. I'm not in a car chase. Go tell Frankie to do it! I don't care if he's on duty, he can take a break. He's lazy as fuck so it shouldn't bother- Ma, I am busy, just with something else... No, I don't want to talk about it. Thanks, I knew I was going to Hell anyway... Fine, but not now. Alright. I'll get the small ones. Anything else? Alright, okay." Packie glanced sideways at Roman before lowering his voice. "Love you too, bye."
Roman let out boisterous laugh before becoming serious once more. "Okay, so you said you had an idea of who might want revenge on my cousin. Tell me, since you're one of the only people I know who are still in the criminal business."
Packie didn't look away from the road, lips tightening into a frown. "So, you know that Dimitri was killed by Niko and later Jimmy P was as well. Over the past few months I've been hearing about the two mobs merging together, and it's big. Like, really big. At first I didn't think anything of it, but recently they've been stirring up shit for everyone else. The whole thing is led by two people, one guy was a close associate of Dimitri, the other of Jimmy P. What I'm thinkin' is that the reason they formed an alliance in the first place was to get revenge for their friends. Either that, or Niko was just mugged or whatever by some random person, which I doubt because almost every criminal in this city is linked to some group."
Roman blinked, alarmed at this development. "You didn't bother warning us or anything?" He growled.
"Fuck you. I didn't think it would be as serious as it has gotten." Packie replied, grip tightening around the wheel as he turned onto the street where his house sat.
"Do you even know the guys' names?" Roman finally asked after a minute of silence.
"I know the one from Jimmy P's group is Giovanni Bellini. I've met him maybe once, but that was before any of this ever happened. He was okay, but he was such a manipulative, lying asshole sometimes. As for the other guy, nobody really knows about him. He's talked about, sure. He's notorious for being the most ruthless motherfucker out there, but other than that not much is known about the guy. Only the closest of his subordinates have seen him, nobody else." Packie turned the key, the car completely shutting off outside his house. He climbed out of the driver's seat, practically slamming the door. Roman flinched at the gesture before getting out as well. Both men walked up the stairs leading to the door.
They were greeted by Maureen. Ever since Roman had last seen her, she had grown even more fragile, more sickly. The elderly woman shuffled over to her son, who towered over her. The woman wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Soon she pulled away after the move was reciprocated by Patrick. Roman felt her beady eyes on him, and smiled at her.
"Roman, I haven't seen you in a while! I heard about Mallorie, congratulations! Is it a boy or a girl?" His smile was returned with even more enthusiasm at the thought of children.
"We're letting it be a surprise. How are you, Mrs. McReary?" Roman replied before Packie turned back to the two, having a frustrated look.
"Sorry ladies, but you'll have to talk later. Roman and I have to go upstairs." He impatiently wrapped his arm around the larger man's shoulders and guided him upstairs. Mrs. McReary stood at the base of the staircase.
"Have you prayed today, Patrick?" She called up.
"Ma, I ain't ten years old. Call Frankie or somethin', Roman and I have to take care of some things." The exasperated reply drifted down to the woman.
"You know, Gerald's getting' out soon." Packie murmured as he sat at a wooden desk, turning on a laptop.
"Who?" Confused, Roman guessed Gerald was a relative or a friend. Niko sometimes visited him while he was in jail, and mentioned the conversations they had. Though he didn't explain the relationship between the two.
Packie glanced up at Roman with an irritated look. "Goddammit. You irritate the crap outta me, you know that?" Not bothering to justify his remark, Roman leaned over to look at the computer screen. The internet was pulled up along with the LCPD official website. He remained silent as Patrick scrolled through the criminal database, even seeing his own name listed above Niko's. The name Patrick mentioned earler was clicked on, and the mugshot of a large man with curly black hair showed up. He looked as if he had a general distaste for the world, with eyelids that drooped halfway in irritated look. He somewhat of a five o' clock shadow, coal black eyes and a large mole near the left corner of his mouth. He stood at 5'5", which surprised Roman that such a short man ran as large of a group as he did. Packie scrolled down the information listed beside the mugshot, the number of crimes he was arrested for alone spooked Roman. Rape, murder, prostitution... He had done it all. Roman was shaken out of his dazed state once Packie read over the locations he was usually found at.
"It says here that he can be found usually at clubs, since he gambles quite a bit. It's mostly the clubs in Algonquin that he's at."
"Alright, well let's go find the fucker and kick his ass." Roman spat, eager to get revenge for his cousin. Packie shook his head, which made Roman pause.
"Why not?!"
"It's too dangerous right now. We gotta lay low. Niko's gonna have to hold out for a little longer while we get enough information. I can't just sneak into wherever they're holdin' him either. I'm gonna need some other guys goin' with me." The tired reply came. Packie leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "We need the guy alive so he can lead us to the Prince. Go home Roman, you have a wife to think about. I'll call you when I find anything else out."
Roman had to admit, Packie was right. As much as his instincts told him to go after the scum right now, he would have to wait. Otherwise, Niko was as good as dead, if he wasn't already. Without a word, he nodded before exiting the room and walking downstairs. He left the house and stood on the sidewalk, rain beginning to pour down for the second time that day. Roman wasn't really the religious type, but if there was a higher power, he hoped it was looking out for his cousin, wherever he was...
The throbbing in his head returned as Niko gradually regained consciousness. Blinking a couple of times, his eyes slowly began to focus. Almost instantly he remembered what had happened prior to him waking up. Fury flooding his mind, he attempted to bring his arms forward so he could push himself to his feet. That failed, as Niko realized his wrists were bound behind him, his ankles bound as well. Gritting his teeth, he glanced around and struggled to gather his surroundings. The room was awfully dark, with a sliver of evening light showing beneath a curtain covering a cracked window. Niko was not sitting on carpet, only stone cold concrete. The walls were a bland gray, the entrance covered by an overhead door. He guessed he was either in a storage shed or a garage. He had no way out. He didn't have a door to kick down, and obviously he was too big to fit through such a tiny window. The man leaned back, waiting. He kept his eyes glued to the door, whistling the tune to a song from the old country in an effort to keep awake.
The sound of footsteps outside shook Niko out of his hypnotized state. He was busy recalling the previous day's events, lingering on his conversations with his cousin. He had been away from the man for only a day and he already missed him. He was thirsty as well, and hungry. His stomach let out a growl, followed by a pang of hunger. Niko hadn't had anything since last night. He realized there was no more light in the room, alerting him to the fact that the sun had set over the city. The garage door began to slide into the ceiling, the metal shrieking horribly from years of neglect. Niko cringed before turning to look at the shadowy figure approaching him. Blinded by the burning glare of a flashlight, Niko groaned as the pain at the back of his head returned. He opened his eyes after recovering.
The man approaching the Slavic appeared very slim. Yet it was obvious he carried a lot of strength in his arms, as if he was accustomed to carrying heavy objects around constantly. He had wavy, semi-long brown hair which fell just short of covering his eyes. His face was long and slight, high and distinct cheekbones with a long nose. His eyes were almond-shaped, his irises startling green orbs. His harsh features suggested he was a man that had experience in the streets of Liberty City. Like every other mob or gang member, he at some point lost his innocence in exchange for the harsh life of a criminal. Niko felt unnerved by the gaze locked onto him, one of fury, and of blood lust. Niko dared not let his fear show though. He kept his neutral expression, remaining silent as two other men walked up beside the other, both holding pistols. He recognized the one on the left as the one driving the car earlier. They both stayed back though, not seeming to intend on shooting him just yet. The smell of smoke flooded Niko as the man crouched in front of him, examining him.
"Niko Bellic." The man murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. "Are you comfortable?" He asked, in a kind tone, which was thin and gave way to the obvious hatred he had for the man sitting in front of him.
Niko mentally rolled his eyes at the feigned kindness. It never bothered him when enemies did that, no matter how frightening they were. It was some sort of mockery, but he didn't give a shit. "Actually no. What? You couldn't afford a chair?" He spat back.
"Funny." The man remarked. "I would have a drink with you, smart-ass. Too bad I despise you." He frowned, placing the flashlight on the floor and replacing it with a pistol, using the barrel to tilt Niko's head upwards. The Slavic was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable with every minute he spent in this asshole's presence. The way he was looked at felt as if he was being dissected, his every thought, fear, emotion being picked at. He didn't like it, and he wanted to just walk away, back to his apartment. He fell eerily silent, glaring at the man.
"You haven't met me, but I've heard a lot about you. You took something from me. You also took something from some friends of mine." He whispered menacingly. Niko wanted to turn away, he was about to go insane from the smell of cigarette smoke coming from his captor. He was right though, Niko had never met the man. At least, he couldn't remember ever coming across him. He could already tell though that he absolutely loathed him.
"Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He sighed, putting on a remorseful expression. "I'm sorry man, I didn't realize me fucking your wife would make you so upset." Instantly he felt cold metal collide with his cheek, causing him to let out a small cry of pain. He tasted copper, and felt a warm liquid drip down the side of his face. A moment later, he let out a chuckle despite the pain he was in. "Look, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"
The man launched from his crouching position, letting out a snarl as he paced back in forth. "You know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about!" Niko almost shot back with denial, but the barrel of the pistol was pointed straight at his face, silencing him.
"Dimitri Rascalov, Jimmy Pegorino. You murdered both of them, you fucking shithead. You ruined everything for their followers. A lot of good people gone, because of you." He shouted, quickly losing his composure. The names caused Niko to become still. He remembered now. How he shot Dimitri dead on the very boat he had arrived to America in, how beforehand he murdered anyone in his way of revenge. The wedding day, Kate's body... Pegorino laying on the grass by the stone wall surrounding the park as he spat his last bitter words. Niko shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. That was eight months ago. Pegorino's clan was small and dying anyway, and Faustin was the original leader, his followers should have cared more about the fact Dimitri betrayed the man and ordered to have Faustin killed. They should have been happy that he had died.
"You're delusional." Niko couldn't conjure up anything more than that, not knowing how to respond exactly to the man's outburst.
"Fuck you. You're going to pay." Was the sinister reply he got. The man locked eyes with the European, lowering the pistol as once again he examined the prisoner. "I won't kill you, yet. I'll let you suffer with the knowledge that your family and friends are being picked off, one by one. You'll now know the pain you have caused. Don't push me. I can either make their deaths slow and agonizing, or kill them swiftly." At this, rage began to fill Niko. He might be the subject of this man's anger, but once again people who were close to him were being dragged down along with him. It was happening again, and instead of making a smart comment or retaliating, he hung his head in defeat at this. Satisfied, the man turned and exited the room, the overhead door shutting as Niko was left in the darkness, feeling completely empty and hopeless.
