GTA: Innocence Forgotten
Chapter 5
Conspiracy and the Rabbit Hole
Black. I don't know how long I was asleep, but I can't say it was real sleep. It was more of a bad day dream, in which my head hurt, felt throbbish.
Oh shit... A horrendous smell hits my noise, it's worse then sulfur. My eyes pop open, I slowly come to a rise, I find myself in a run down room of sorts. Pizza boxes strewn about, a naked mattress for a bed, and a run down fridge. Certainly not the Ritz Carlton.
Then I see them there, chatting with each other, sitting around a poker table. It's the guy and 8 Ball. They're playing a game of cards, and in the corner of my eye, I catch the Guy is looking at a mirror behind 8 Ball. Tricky.
"Hey..." I mutter out, still wondering if I'm dreaming.
8 Ball turns around sharply.
"He's awake." 8 Ball tells the Guy.
The guy gives a quizzical look, and that's the most I can make out of a blank expression. Looks like he's muttering No Shit in his head.
8 Ball grins, then turns over to me. The guy doesn't bother to look over, he's makes himself busy by palming and replacing 8 Ball's cards. "Uh... You blacked out for a while man- about 4 hours you've been sleeping. A little safety precaution though, we used tranq's to get you into the car, and to make sure you don't know where we took you. Then again, it was a stupid idea. I doubt we'll be able to tranquilize you again for the ride to Mr. X."
I gave a look of questioning.
"Oh, that's right. Don't know about much yet, probably. Well, allow me to brief you on what's going on. The video store knock off- we knew about it, our employer told us all about it. Calls himself Mr. X, don't know him by any other name. He hired us to pull you out, let you stay here tonight, then we drop you off at the meeting point, Love Media Building."
I nodded, trying to hide my confusion. "Uh huh. So, you guys know anything about Famente?"
8 Ball sighed. "Ah- Famente. He also told us about your little situation. As advice from one guy that got in deep shit with a big time gangster to another... It's not worth it. You won't pull it off, and that's all I can say. But if you're bent on taking this sucker out, here's some advice. Lay low for a while, then when he thinks your off the list, strike hard, and don't stop at it. All er nothing man."
- - -
The next morning, I awoke to no sunlight, and 8 Ball was gone. While I slept on the floor, the Guy was already awake, his 'bed' made. He lit up a smoke, and handed the pack out to me.
"No, I quit long ago."
The guy made a face and shrugged his shoulders. He wheezed in one last puff of nicotine, then flicked the cig to the ground, stomping it in.
The guy got his piece from off the poker table, stuffed it into his pocket, then grabbed his jacket. He swung it around his shoulders like a bad ass, then funneled his arms through the sleeves, putting up the collar.
Well, we got into the car, then drove for a while. It wasn't a matter that there was traffic or that the guy drove slowly. It was that he seemed to be hitting checkpoints of sorts. We came onto 12th Avenue, he flicked a pack of cigs out the window, where a man in a black suit, black sunglasses would pick it up. He'd light up a lighter, then we'd drive on.
Did the same thing on 14th Avenue, 13th South, and on and on, 12 times total. Finally, at the last one, the Guy's beeper came on, which he flipped out coolly.
It read, "Meeting is on."
He waved it in front of me, and I nodded. He then threw it into the back seat, and tore ahead, driving like a maniac once again. We spun out, burning rubber past Kenji's Casino.
"What is this, a fucking Indy race?" I yelled as I nearly hit my head into the dash. "Well, I don't think you can go any faster then this!"
I was wrong, once again, and I found out the hard way. The guy peeled in past Love Media, missing the turn on purpose, then pulling an extremely tight 45 degree turn, rubber smoking in the air.
I hopped out, and waited for him to get out too. Nope, just me I thought, as he drove off, giving a quick, disheartened wave behind him.
I felt like Mr. X could offer me a way to Famente, and I was naive enough to believe it. Then it came to me as I walked closer to the building, Love was dead, what would a corpse want with me?
I ignored the thought, and trekked up the stairs, then came to the roof. I peered across the gravel surface, fenced in by glass railings, then moved into the center of the building.
I then felt a cold hand grasp my shoulder, and pat me down. After he was finished, the person spun me around. It was a suit, wearing black sunglasses.
Following him, coming up the stairs I was just on, were two more suits, followed by a man in a trench coat, 2 more suits in tail.
Who was this guy? I'd find out whether I wanted to or not, the Uzi's these guys carried made me feel like I shouldn't complain.
The man in the coat walked up to me, and leisurely took it off, revealing an expensive business suit under it. He handed the coat to one of his thugs, then offered his hand, for shaking. I grasped his hand, covered by leather gloves, and we shook.
"Salutations and greetings, Mr. Dennings. I'd like to ask you first, do you know who I am?"
I shook my head.
"Not a clue. You're not Love are you?"
The man smiled, and shook his head. He started to pace back and forth.
"Do you know how much organized crime plays into Liberty City's economy?"
I shook my head, but answered my best. "Damn well allot."
The man laughed, a good laugh, while his goons laughed in mimicry. "No, but a worthy answer. At today's day and hour-" The man flipped out a small handheld monitor, then
spoke up again, "it would be 37.8 %, thanks to an increase in gang wars."
I listened on in awe. That WAS damn well allot.
"Think how much profit that could pull in. Right now, agriculture is at around 4 %. Automobiles are only 8 %. Electronics even, only 21 %. Now, isn't this an idea, why doesn't somebody just take over the crime business, as unorganized as it is, and reap in the profits?"
I knew where he was headed. But I didn't know where he was at, so I listened on.
"But before I continue, let me introduce myself. Gordon Bradley, my common face lies as an Oil Tycoon. Now, I continue. Tell me what you know about the alliances and enemy-ships of the various crime organizations of Liberty."
I paused. "Mafia, Yakuza, Triads, Yardies, Cartel, various gangs. Mafia are on their own, I doubt they've got anybody on their side. Yakuza against Triads. Yardies playing it safe. Cartel on their haunches, about to get slammed by the Yakuza. The gangs are all against one another. That detailed enough for you?"
He smiled. "You're either an educated or criminally focused man, Robert- If I may call you Robert."
The guy was swimming in swank, and had a silver tongue. The mark of a leader, but also of a liar. I bet this guy could blow 1 million on a bad day, shoot 5 people, insult every racial group in the world, use his resources to pay it all off, and still catch Prime Time television.
"Bottom line, Robert. I'll continue, take you further into the conspiracy, but I need your approval. Will you swear to be under my employment, your task of taking down Famente? Your choice, if you don't oblige, I can get you on a one way to the Keys anyways. So, what'll it be, Dennings?"
I shook my head. I didn't know what was going on, I had a migraine, and to top it off, I was now being dragged into a conspiracy. Just freaking great, if we were to book this as a tv series pilot it'd be accepted for sure.
Chapter 5
Conspiracy and the Rabbit Hole
Black. I don't know how long I was asleep, but I can't say it was real sleep. It was more of a bad day dream, in which my head hurt, felt throbbish.
Oh shit... A horrendous smell hits my noise, it's worse then sulfur. My eyes pop open, I slowly come to a rise, I find myself in a run down room of sorts. Pizza boxes strewn about, a naked mattress for a bed, and a run down fridge. Certainly not the Ritz Carlton.
Then I see them there, chatting with each other, sitting around a poker table. It's the guy and 8 Ball. They're playing a game of cards, and in the corner of my eye, I catch the Guy is looking at a mirror behind 8 Ball. Tricky.
"Hey..." I mutter out, still wondering if I'm dreaming.
8 Ball turns around sharply.
"He's awake." 8 Ball tells the Guy.
The guy gives a quizzical look, and that's the most I can make out of a blank expression. Looks like he's muttering No Shit in his head.
8 Ball grins, then turns over to me. The guy doesn't bother to look over, he's makes himself busy by palming and replacing 8 Ball's cards. "Uh... You blacked out for a while man- about 4 hours you've been sleeping. A little safety precaution though, we used tranq's to get you into the car, and to make sure you don't know where we took you. Then again, it was a stupid idea. I doubt we'll be able to tranquilize you again for the ride to Mr. X."
I gave a look of questioning.
"Oh, that's right. Don't know about much yet, probably. Well, allow me to brief you on what's going on. The video store knock off- we knew about it, our employer told us all about it. Calls himself Mr. X, don't know him by any other name. He hired us to pull you out, let you stay here tonight, then we drop you off at the meeting point, Love Media Building."
I nodded, trying to hide my confusion. "Uh huh. So, you guys know anything about Famente?"
8 Ball sighed. "Ah- Famente. He also told us about your little situation. As advice from one guy that got in deep shit with a big time gangster to another... It's not worth it. You won't pull it off, and that's all I can say. But if you're bent on taking this sucker out, here's some advice. Lay low for a while, then when he thinks your off the list, strike hard, and don't stop at it. All er nothing man."
- - -
The next morning, I awoke to no sunlight, and 8 Ball was gone. While I slept on the floor, the Guy was already awake, his 'bed' made. He lit up a smoke, and handed the pack out to me.
"No, I quit long ago."
The guy made a face and shrugged his shoulders. He wheezed in one last puff of nicotine, then flicked the cig to the ground, stomping it in.
The guy got his piece from off the poker table, stuffed it into his pocket, then grabbed his jacket. He swung it around his shoulders like a bad ass, then funneled his arms through the sleeves, putting up the collar.
Well, we got into the car, then drove for a while. It wasn't a matter that there was traffic or that the guy drove slowly. It was that he seemed to be hitting checkpoints of sorts. We came onto 12th Avenue, he flicked a pack of cigs out the window, where a man in a black suit, black sunglasses would pick it up. He'd light up a lighter, then we'd drive on.
Did the same thing on 14th Avenue, 13th South, and on and on, 12 times total. Finally, at the last one, the Guy's beeper came on, which he flipped out coolly.
It read, "Meeting is on."
He waved it in front of me, and I nodded. He then threw it into the back seat, and tore ahead, driving like a maniac once again. We spun out, burning rubber past Kenji's Casino.
"What is this, a fucking Indy race?" I yelled as I nearly hit my head into the dash. "Well, I don't think you can go any faster then this!"
I was wrong, once again, and I found out the hard way. The guy peeled in past Love Media, missing the turn on purpose, then pulling an extremely tight 45 degree turn, rubber smoking in the air.
I hopped out, and waited for him to get out too. Nope, just me I thought, as he drove off, giving a quick, disheartened wave behind him.
I felt like Mr. X could offer me a way to Famente, and I was naive enough to believe it. Then it came to me as I walked closer to the building, Love was dead, what would a corpse want with me?
I ignored the thought, and trekked up the stairs, then came to the roof. I peered across the gravel surface, fenced in by glass railings, then moved into the center of the building.
I then felt a cold hand grasp my shoulder, and pat me down. After he was finished, the person spun me around. It was a suit, wearing black sunglasses.
Following him, coming up the stairs I was just on, were two more suits, followed by a man in a trench coat, 2 more suits in tail.
Who was this guy? I'd find out whether I wanted to or not, the Uzi's these guys carried made me feel like I shouldn't complain.
The man in the coat walked up to me, and leisurely took it off, revealing an expensive business suit under it. He handed the coat to one of his thugs, then offered his hand, for shaking. I grasped his hand, covered by leather gloves, and we shook.
"Salutations and greetings, Mr. Dennings. I'd like to ask you first, do you know who I am?"
I shook my head.
"Not a clue. You're not Love are you?"
The man smiled, and shook his head. He started to pace back and forth.
"Do you know how much organized crime plays into Liberty City's economy?"
I shook my head, but answered my best. "Damn well allot."
The man laughed, a good laugh, while his goons laughed in mimicry. "No, but a worthy answer. At today's day and hour-" The man flipped out a small handheld monitor, then
spoke up again, "it would be 37.8 %, thanks to an increase in gang wars."
I listened on in awe. That WAS damn well allot.
"Think how much profit that could pull in. Right now, agriculture is at around 4 %. Automobiles are only 8 %. Electronics even, only 21 %. Now, isn't this an idea, why doesn't somebody just take over the crime business, as unorganized as it is, and reap in the profits?"
I knew where he was headed. But I didn't know where he was at, so I listened on.
"But before I continue, let me introduce myself. Gordon Bradley, my common face lies as an Oil Tycoon. Now, I continue. Tell me what you know about the alliances and enemy-ships of the various crime organizations of Liberty."
I paused. "Mafia, Yakuza, Triads, Yardies, Cartel, various gangs. Mafia are on their own, I doubt they've got anybody on their side. Yakuza against Triads. Yardies playing it safe. Cartel on their haunches, about to get slammed by the Yakuza. The gangs are all against one another. That detailed enough for you?"
He smiled. "You're either an educated or criminally focused man, Robert- If I may call you Robert."
The guy was swimming in swank, and had a silver tongue. The mark of a leader, but also of a liar. I bet this guy could blow 1 million on a bad day, shoot 5 people, insult every racial group in the world, use his resources to pay it all off, and still catch Prime Time television.
"Bottom line, Robert. I'll continue, take you further into the conspiracy, but I need your approval. Will you swear to be under my employment, your task of taking down Famente? Your choice, if you don't oblige, I can get you on a one way to the Keys anyways. So, what'll it be, Dennings?"
I shook my head. I didn't know what was going on, I had a migraine, and to top it off, I was now being dragged into a conspiracy. Just freaking great, if we were to book this as a tv series pilot it'd be accepted for sure.