DAY 1: CHAPTER 1:
Welcome to the streets.
Life was tough here. Men became gangsters, hitmen, maybe cops. Women became prostitutes and objects of manipulation. Boys? Well, there were no boys in Liberty. Boys went to school and became Red Jacks and Purple Nines, maybe a Southside Hood if they got lucky.
Boys. Always the manipulators, never the manipulated. I felt bad for Maria, she had this new boyfriend - I forget his name. She never realized that the man was a cold blooded killer. He could walk into one of those murder traps the Leone's set up, not say a word. Just kill. The way it was meant to be done.
Bullets. Bullets were common. In your car, in your pocket, in your back. Cops didn't care, at least not in Liberty. They would say they would, but the only real time you could tell some cop wanted you dead is when he saw his friend die.
Yet cops couldn't take vengeance - "Against regulation". I felt bad for them - all they were was an endless supply of the 'Bureau's lackies. We all knew that the cops directly responded to the bureau on anything, atleast us on the streets.
Note I said "endless". There were two million people in Liberty City, most of which on Portland. Most of those two million (probably somewhere around one million-nine hundred thousand) were just people who thought the police could handle things.
When those people realized cops couldn't handle things, they signed up for the cops. It wasn't volunteer service, it was a paying job; but at every moment the cops were out of detectives, or patrol men, or SWAT's, or something.
Those kinds of people pissed me off. People who didn't realize shit happens, didn't know that the shit hits the fan, didn't act like real men. And that's how this started.
I was pissed off when it started. I got so pissed, I needed to take it out on something. So what'd I do? I robbed a bank, along with Maria's guy and his girl.
I didn't know who he was. I knew he needed money, and I knew that girl enjoyed being paid to make love - hell, I knew it better than anyone.
On the other hand, I knew who Maria was. She was my crush when I went to High School on Staunton Island. She lived by the colosseum, which is how I met her when I was just a little punk. An unpopular punk who didn't lose his virginity till he paid up the grand. A punk who saw the bigger picture.
Yeah, the bigger picture. The Leone Family sent me there, sent where the big boys play. I worked with Tony, Luigi, and Joey. I met Salvatore, I bet he doesn't remember me. I like it that way.
It's easy to kill when your faceless: the second you made a name for yourself you were gonna be hit. Sooner or later.
Life was tough here. Men became gangsters, hitmen, maybe cops. Women became prostitutes and objects of manipulation. Boys? Well, there were no boys in Liberty. Boys went to school and became Red Jacks and Purple Nines, maybe a Southside Hood if they got lucky.
Boys. Always the manipulators, never the manipulated. I felt bad for Maria, she had this new boyfriend - I forget his name. She never realized that the man was a cold blooded killer. He could walk into one of those murder traps the Leone's set up, not say a word. Just kill. The way it was meant to be done.
Bullets. Bullets were common. In your car, in your pocket, in your back. Cops didn't care, at least not in Liberty. They would say they would, but the only real time you could tell some cop wanted you dead is when he saw his friend die.
Yet cops couldn't take vengeance - "Against regulation". I felt bad for them - all they were was an endless supply of the 'Bureau's lackies. We all knew that the cops directly responded to the bureau on anything, atleast us on the streets.
Note I said "endless". There were two million people in Liberty City, most of which on Portland. Most of those two million (probably somewhere around one million-nine hundred thousand) were just people who thought the police could handle things.
When those people realized cops couldn't handle things, they signed up for the cops. It wasn't volunteer service, it was a paying job; but at every moment the cops were out of detectives, or patrol men, or SWAT's, or something.
Those kinds of people pissed me off. People who didn't realize shit happens, didn't know that the shit hits the fan, didn't act like real men. And that's how this started.
I was pissed off when it started. I got so pissed, I needed to take it out on something. So what'd I do? I robbed a bank, along with Maria's guy and his girl.
I didn't know who he was. I knew he needed money, and I knew that girl enjoyed being paid to make love - hell, I knew it better than anyone.
On the other hand, I knew who Maria was. She was my crush when I went to High School on Staunton Island. She lived by the colosseum, which is how I met her when I was just a little punk. An unpopular punk who didn't lose his virginity till he paid up the grand. A punk who saw the bigger picture.
Yeah, the bigger picture. The Leone Family sent me there, sent where the big boys play. I worked with Tony, Luigi, and Joey. I met Salvatore, I bet he doesn't remember me. I like it that way.
It's easy to kill when your faceless: the second you made a name for yourself you were gonna be hit. Sooner or later.