GTA: Innocence Forgotten
Chapter 3
A Bad Hand
That night, we took a trip out to Staunton, Kenny was gonna "show me the ropes" so to speak. I was gonna come with Kenny on a little mission to a Cartel protected Video Store, we'd knock up the owner, and if we saw resistance, we'd shoot up their thugs.
I looked out the window, saw the streets whirl by. Funny. Damn funny, what we were going to do; what I might have to take part in. I remember taking a guy to a life sentence. He got in for killing an old man, the guy was collecting protection money. Not exactly the same, but the same situation.
Hmph. Ironic, aint it?
Well, we pulled up to the Video Store. I walked out, with an air of nervousness that gave me away. I was carrying a Glock 29 in my jacket pocket, nice and powerful. I'd taken a few shots with it earlier. From the talk I had with Kenny, just take the safety off, load a clip in, and pull the trigger.
A creepily timed gust of wind blows through the streets, sending a newspaper by. The words WANTED are all that I can catch on it. I sigh, then crack my neck, trying to ease my tension.
Kenny goes up to the door of the shop first, sees the sign is closed. Inside, several bodies move about, shelving videos and arranging signs. Following Kenny are two Mafia guns, a big guy with a couple stitches on his brow and a short guy, with visible balding.
I didn't learn their names, I just remembered the big guy as Bruises, and the short guy as Baldy. Both of them wore cheap suits, silver stripes running down their black folds, several faded red spots on the pants of Bruises. Looked like he'd had some fun in his past.
Kenny didn't bother to open the door handle, he kicked it in. I couldn't hear what he was saying, I was outside; standing nervously on the sidewalk. I felt like shit, I thought I heard sirens. For a guy out to kill his family's murdered, I had the courage and guts of a puppy with a bladder problem.
I looked in the window again, saw Kenny with a baseball bat out. I saw who he was threatening, a built up guy, buzz cut, tank top, faded jeans. Kenny and him were talking, the 'victim' was standing there proud. As Kenny went on and on, looked like he was pissed, the other man just stood his ground.
Kenny then laughed, as if he was amused by the situation, then whipped the bat out to the guy's face, sending him to the ground. Kenny lit up a smoke, then weezed in the calming nicotine. It was a bad habit of his, he took it up as a kid. I did too, but I'd quit when I entered college.
While this was going on, Baldy had a handgun out, he was clearing the backroom, Bruises was behind him, with another baseball bat out, but I could see his piece, it was on a hip mounted holster, looked shiny and brand new.
I was fairly inattentive for a lookout though, so I checked behind me, and caught what might lead to our downfall, a teenager in a telephone booth. Didn't know what he was dialing, but looked like he was in a hurry.
He was on to us alright, from his look of panic, so I moved in. I started moving my hands, motioning that nothing was going on. He appeared to cringe back a little more with every step, scared of what I'd become.
I shook my head. I figured I'd go and warn the boys, before 5-0 arrived.
A clicking sound, followed by the phone booth opening. I swung around, my gun in it's holster. I nearly freaked, the punk was charging me with a switchblade.
Jeez! I didn't know what to do... The motions ran through my mind, kill a kid, get killed by a kid.
One quick motion. I drew my gun, and fired.
Blood. Everywhere. Seeping into the cracks of the streets, into the sidewalk, seemingly forming pictures on the battered walkway. The kid jerked around, I'd shot him in the chest, no swift death for this kid.
I took a moment and thought. What had I done? Was I a murderer? By law, I was. But by mind, by my own thoughts, what would this do to me? Nightmares? Guilt?
A feeling of sin and guilt was now on my heart, I felt they could never be gone. All this from one shot, one dead street punk. I knew I had to kill Famente all the more now.
As the blood funneled out, and the lifeless teenage body stopped moving, I spun back around, looking at the video-store. Empty. Nobody in, seemed my 'crew' couldn't be found.
I scanned through the mess of knocked over shelves, looking past the empty cash register. Had my brother, Baldy 'n' Bruises deserted me? What was going on?
A wailing of sirens struck reality into my head, like a much needed wake up call. Had to get moving, had to get away. Couldn't get caught, didn't know what it would do to me.
I started to move fast through the video store, as a glimpse of red and blue sirens pierced my vision.
I felt my knees start to feel wobbly, and my arms start to tense up. Most would mistake this for feeling weaker, but I knew a thing or too about it, it was adrenaline rushing through my veins. It would do the opposite of weakness, it should help me get back to Kenny and the walking cartoon characters.
A gust of wind fills the abandoned store, as I hastily force open the entrance to the backroom. Still nothing, but a couple poker tables, and some boxes of unopened videos, which might never be opened.
Time. Need more of it, the thought grasps my brain and begins to squeeze. I can hear cop radios in the background, as well as a siren. Can't make out the words, don't want to stay long enough to hear them.
Turn myself in? Hell no. Gotta keep moving.
I jump over a box of videos, but what do I land in? Bruises and Baldy's bodies, stacked up on each other. To the left, Bruises pistol is on the ground. In addition, a shotgun is still grasped to Baldy's hand, his finger on the trigger. It's a creepy sight, chilling and despairing.
I pry it out, and stuff it in my coat. I move to the door, but can't get it open. I try pushing, shoving, the door won't budge.
"Kenny!"
I shout as loud as I can.
"Kenny! Kenny!"
Then the feeling sinks in.
Betrayal.
As cops file in, guns drawn, I know I'm done. A smug look on my face, I drop my pistol, put my hands on my head, and move to the wall. The cops seem a little surprised, no resistance? And he even knows the procedure?
Well, taking no chance on their good luck, they cuff me up, and take me out to a waiting cop car. This seemed like a bad Poker game, it looked like I'd drawn up a hand of one's and two's. Time to fold.
Damn. As the car screeches off, sirens turned off, I close my eyes, and try to pretend I'm somewhere else. Nope, still in hell.
Chapter 3
A Bad Hand
That night, we took a trip out to Staunton, Kenny was gonna "show me the ropes" so to speak. I was gonna come with Kenny on a little mission to a Cartel protected Video Store, we'd knock up the owner, and if we saw resistance, we'd shoot up their thugs.
I looked out the window, saw the streets whirl by. Funny. Damn funny, what we were going to do; what I might have to take part in. I remember taking a guy to a life sentence. He got in for killing an old man, the guy was collecting protection money. Not exactly the same, but the same situation.
Hmph. Ironic, aint it?
Well, we pulled up to the Video Store. I walked out, with an air of nervousness that gave me away. I was carrying a Glock 29 in my jacket pocket, nice and powerful. I'd taken a few shots with it earlier. From the talk I had with Kenny, just take the safety off, load a clip in, and pull the trigger.
A creepily timed gust of wind blows through the streets, sending a newspaper by. The words WANTED are all that I can catch on it. I sigh, then crack my neck, trying to ease my tension.
Kenny goes up to the door of the shop first, sees the sign is closed. Inside, several bodies move about, shelving videos and arranging signs. Following Kenny are two Mafia guns, a big guy with a couple stitches on his brow and a short guy, with visible balding.
I didn't learn their names, I just remembered the big guy as Bruises, and the short guy as Baldy. Both of them wore cheap suits, silver stripes running down their black folds, several faded red spots on the pants of Bruises. Looked like he'd had some fun in his past.
Kenny didn't bother to open the door handle, he kicked it in. I couldn't hear what he was saying, I was outside; standing nervously on the sidewalk. I felt like shit, I thought I heard sirens. For a guy out to kill his family's murdered, I had the courage and guts of a puppy with a bladder problem.
I looked in the window again, saw Kenny with a baseball bat out. I saw who he was threatening, a built up guy, buzz cut, tank top, faded jeans. Kenny and him were talking, the 'victim' was standing there proud. As Kenny went on and on, looked like he was pissed, the other man just stood his ground.
Kenny then laughed, as if he was amused by the situation, then whipped the bat out to the guy's face, sending him to the ground. Kenny lit up a smoke, then weezed in the calming nicotine. It was a bad habit of his, he took it up as a kid. I did too, but I'd quit when I entered college.
While this was going on, Baldy had a handgun out, he was clearing the backroom, Bruises was behind him, with another baseball bat out, but I could see his piece, it was on a hip mounted holster, looked shiny and brand new.
I was fairly inattentive for a lookout though, so I checked behind me, and caught what might lead to our downfall, a teenager in a telephone booth. Didn't know what he was dialing, but looked like he was in a hurry.
He was on to us alright, from his look of panic, so I moved in. I started moving my hands, motioning that nothing was going on. He appeared to cringe back a little more with every step, scared of what I'd become.
I shook my head. I figured I'd go and warn the boys, before 5-0 arrived.
A clicking sound, followed by the phone booth opening. I swung around, my gun in it's holster. I nearly freaked, the punk was charging me with a switchblade.
Jeez! I didn't know what to do... The motions ran through my mind, kill a kid, get killed by a kid.
One quick motion. I drew my gun, and fired.
Blood. Everywhere. Seeping into the cracks of the streets, into the sidewalk, seemingly forming pictures on the battered walkway. The kid jerked around, I'd shot him in the chest, no swift death for this kid.
I took a moment and thought. What had I done? Was I a murderer? By law, I was. But by mind, by my own thoughts, what would this do to me? Nightmares? Guilt?
A feeling of sin and guilt was now on my heart, I felt they could never be gone. All this from one shot, one dead street punk. I knew I had to kill Famente all the more now.
As the blood funneled out, and the lifeless teenage body stopped moving, I spun back around, looking at the video-store. Empty. Nobody in, seemed my 'crew' couldn't be found.
I scanned through the mess of knocked over shelves, looking past the empty cash register. Had my brother, Baldy 'n' Bruises deserted me? What was going on?
A wailing of sirens struck reality into my head, like a much needed wake up call. Had to get moving, had to get away. Couldn't get caught, didn't know what it would do to me.
I started to move fast through the video store, as a glimpse of red and blue sirens pierced my vision.
I felt my knees start to feel wobbly, and my arms start to tense up. Most would mistake this for feeling weaker, but I knew a thing or too about it, it was adrenaline rushing through my veins. It would do the opposite of weakness, it should help me get back to Kenny and the walking cartoon characters.
A gust of wind fills the abandoned store, as I hastily force open the entrance to the backroom. Still nothing, but a couple poker tables, and some boxes of unopened videos, which might never be opened.
Time. Need more of it, the thought grasps my brain and begins to squeeze. I can hear cop radios in the background, as well as a siren. Can't make out the words, don't want to stay long enough to hear them.
Turn myself in? Hell no. Gotta keep moving.
I jump over a box of videos, but what do I land in? Bruises and Baldy's bodies, stacked up on each other. To the left, Bruises pistol is on the ground. In addition, a shotgun is still grasped to Baldy's hand, his finger on the trigger. It's a creepy sight, chilling and despairing.
I pry it out, and stuff it in my coat. I move to the door, but can't get it open. I try pushing, shoving, the door won't budge.
"Kenny!"
I shout as loud as I can.
"Kenny! Kenny!"
Then the feeling sinks in.
Betrayal.
As cops file in, guns drawn, I know I'm done. A smug look on my face, I drop my pistol, put my hands on my head, and move to the wall. The cops seem a little surprised, no resistance? And he even knows the procedure?
Well, taking no chance on their good luck, they cuff me up, and take me out to a waiting cop car. This seemed like a bad Poker game, it looked like I'd drawn up a hand of one's and two's. Time to fold.
Damn. As the car screeches off, sirens turned off, I close my eyes, and try to pretend I'm somewhere else. Nope, still in hell.