DEAD MAN FOREVER
A cop in Liberty City. Not an FBI Agent, not a gangster, nor was I a traitor to the police. I was loyal to the police in all ways.
I didn't take no shit from anybody. I didn't take shit from my boss and I didn't take shit from my friend's. I dished it out. I hated people.
It was a rainy day. Pooring rain from the sky, dripping. Weather forecast on Channel 6 said it would be hailing, so if I wanted to get the mission done the time was now; no doubt about it.
This morning, I stepped into my garage. It leaked more often than my heart thumped, but I didn't care. Water's water, right?
I got in my Police Car and drove to work - it wasn't to far away. A simple, fast, and obviously dangerous car… or at least it was obviously dangerous to anyone who knew that I wouldn't take shit.
I was a SWAT team member - the youngest on the squad. Once I had ran in ahead of the rest of the team, shot two men in the arms and rescued a few hostages - all before the rest of the squad had realized there was hostages.
When I got to work, I immediately got in an Enforcer. Not the driver, I was a man in the back of the vehicle, closest to the door. First in and last out was what I did. Take the hits or avoid the hits. I did what every SWAT member should.
Including killing people. Everyone SWAT man should kill, right? Right?
We were tailing a Triad Fish Van that was driving to a company that sold more than just synthetic fish. It sold Crack, Heroine, Pot, and Spank. I hated drug dealers.
I lit up a smoke. Good ol' tobacco cigarettes, which I had bought off the black market since the tax on 'em here was so high. Cigarettes calmed me and soothed me, and most cops in this Enforcer smoked 'em to. At the time, I had never killed a sole; and I wasn't planning on in.
The Triad Fish Van slowly pulled into the gates of the Triad Grade A Imitation Fish company. Turtle Shell fish company was another name for it, but everyone in Liberty City called it what it was - a crappy fish company that doesn't even use fish.
We kept driving passed the company, until we got semi-hidden. The fish van probably didn't see us, and it didn't matter - our mission was to confiscate drugs and put the dealers in prison, not kill everyone in sight. That was just the mission plan at the time, though…
The doors opened, slowly and loudly. It started hailing just then and there. I hopped out, landing on two legs with my M-16 in hand. All the other SWAT's had M-16's and their pistols, but I had my M-16 and an Assault Shotgun. I ran directly for the gates and put my back against the stone wall once I got their, not showing my presence.
That's when a pack of five Mafia Sentinels pulled up, along with an Armored Limousine. A six-pack, one with the contest-winning cap; you might say. Two of the Sentinels swerved right into the gate, knocking them down and causing all the Triad's in the company to look at the Sentinels.
Me and the rest of the guys had no idea what to do until we were fired upon - a.k.a. once the men in the three Mafia Sentinel's noticed their was the best police squad in Liberty standing right infront of them.
So we ran. My entire team ran, me first, for cover. The closest thing to cover we could find before one of us was killed was right behind our Enforcer - and thank god our Enforcer was bullet proof.
The turtle's came out of their shell's when the Triad's started unleashing fire on some of the Mafia front men who had been firing at us, who hadn't been firing at all.
That's when we all lit another cigarette after tossing our last butte and decided to start a stand off, a shoot out.
"I've never killed a man." I said.
The rest of the boy's ignored me. They were bad asses, other guys who didn't take shit from anyone but me. They had tattoo's marking the names of gang leader's they killed, while I had signature's from all the inmates I got - more wimpy, yes; but my job was to capture, not kill. That was my job until then, anyway.
We loaded our sixty-shell clips into the M-16's. I looked to the man next to me, Roger. Roger was yet another bad ass, willing to kill for a living. He thought killing was keeping America alive, he was living to put someone else in danger - he'd be a cop without his pay if they offered it.
"Don't waste the ammo. Kill them - they've wasted their lives… They deserve my bullets."
I didn't care what he said. It was pointless, even though I should've said it as the Squad Leader.
"On three…" another man said.
"One…"
"Two…"
"Three!"
We popped up, eyes focused on our scopes but still moving ever- so-quickly. There were men everywhere! I had never been in any thing close to a fire fight as this… This was a fire fight.
Men fell down everywhere I looked. I hadn't shot anything but one tire on each of the car's wheels. Hey, somebody had to do it. Then we dropped again.
"FIRE AT SOMEONE, GOD DAMMIT!" Roger yelled directly at my face, getting spit on my SWAT helmet.
I hated Roger. He deserves patrol, just shooting at any slightest thing (Liberty's Internal Affair's wouldn't care because Liberty had no Internal Affairs). Hate is a strong word, and I not only hated Roger, I wanted him to feel the pain of three Uzi bullet's in the shin, like I had gotten because of his stupid 'macho' ways.
"I am the squad leader here. You will do as I say. I say that you SHUT YOUR MOTHER FUCKING MOUTH AND AIM FOR THEM YOURSELF, ASS LICKER!"
No one minded what I said besides Roger - they knew I had it in for him. I knew he had it in for me. I just didn't realize how much.
Roger charged at me after dropping his gun, holding his six inch knife. I fell back and kicked him into the air, forcing him to back flip towards the outer fire.
I thought he would've been shot by a bullet. No - he dropped his knife and fell on it. It severely wounded his left shin, probably preventing him from walking.
"JEEEESUS! JESUS CHRIST! THE PAIN!" Roger screamed.
So I hurt the guy! It's not like any one on my squad really liked him.
"Why the hell did you do that?" another one of the guys barked.
Why did I do it? What was I supposed to do - let him stab me with a machete the size of a butcher's knife? Jesus, they were idiots!
"I did it because he would've killed me!"
They ignored me. Apparently it was a rhetorical question - so I ignored Roger. One of the guys began to count again.
"One… Two… Three!"
We popped up again, only this time with out Roger, just me and the three others. They were Mark - the one who was counting off, John - a fat guy who thought assault was fun, and Donald - a guy who was sent here from New York by the FBI's orders.
The Triad's had been losing men fast - not that I cared. It's just that I didn't expect the Triad's to be killed off like water trying to be thicker than blood. The Mafia had apparently forgotten us cops, but the Triad's didn't - and that's why they were losing.
I aimed at a couple Mafia front men. They didn't notice - they forgot about us as I said. I began to pull the trigger.
I inhaled. My heart pounded. I slowly pulled the trigger back, adjusting the scope to be aimed directly at one of their heads. Sweat dripped off my face like water goes down the drain.
Can I do this?, I thought.
I pulled a little further.
Then we were shot at, and I barely made myself fall down in time.
"I've been hit!" John yelled.
I hated John. He was to fat. He was to obnoxious. He was annoying. He could kill a man like it was swatting a fly, as if people had no feelings and were just there.
"Call for back up. What happened to Roger?"
Silence behind the Enforcer. I looked to my left, and saw a dead man. A dead man, forever.
A cop in Liberty City. Not an FBI Agent, not a gangster, nor was I a traitor to the police. I was loyal to the police in all ways.
I didn't take no shit from anybody. I didn't take shit from my boss and I didn't take shit from my friend's. I dished it out. I hated people.
It was a rainy day. Pooring rain from the sky, dripping. Weather forecast on Channel 6 said it would be hailing, so if I wanted to get the mission done the time was now; no doubt about it.
This morning, I stepped into my garage. It leaked more often than my heart thumped, but I didn't care. Water's water, right?
I got in my Police Car and drove to work - it wasn't to far away. A simple, fast, and obviously dangerous car… or at least it was obviously dangerous to anyone who knew that I wouldn't take shit.
I was a SWAT team member - the youngest on the squad. Once I had ran in ahead of the rest of the team, shot two men in the arms and rescued a few hostages - all before the rest of the squad had realized there was hostages.
When I got to work, I immediately got in an Enforcer. Not the driver, I was a man in the back of the vehicle, closest to the door. First in and last out was what I did. Take the hits or avoid the hits. I did what every SWAT member should.
Including killing people. Everyone SWAT man should kill, right? Right?
We were tailing a Triad Fish Van that was driving to a company that sold more than just synthetic fish. It sold Crack, Heroine, Pot, and Spank. I hated drug dealers.
I lit up a smoke. Good ol' tobacco cigarettes, which I had bought off the black market since the tax on 'em here was so high. Cigarettes calmed me and soothed me, and most cops in this Enforcer smoked 'em to. At the time, I had never killed a sole; and I wasn't planning on in.
The Triad Fish Van slowly pulled into the gates of the Triad Grade A Imitation Fish company. Turtle Shell fish company was another name for it, but everyone in Liberty City called it what it was - a crappy fish company that doesn't even use fish.
We kept driving passed the company, until we got semi-hidden. The fish van probably didn't see us, and it didn't matter - our mission was to confiscate drugs and put the dealers in prison, not kill everyone in sight. That was just the mission plan at the time, though…
The doors opened, slowly and loudly. It started hailing just then and there. I hopped out, landing on two legs with my M-16 in hand. All the other SWAT's had M-16's and their pistols, but I had my M-16 and an Assault Shotgun. I ran directly for the gates and put my back against the stone wall once I got their, not showing my presence.
That's when a pack of five Mafia Sentinels pulled up, along with an Armored Limousine. A six-pack, one with the contest-winning cap; you might say. Two of the Sentinels swerved right into the gate, knocking them down and causing all the Triad's in the company to look at the Sentinels.
Me and the rest of the guys had no idea what to do until we were fired upon - a.k.a. once the men in the three Mafia Sentinel's noticed their was the best police squad in Liberty standing right infront of them.
So we ran. My entire team ran, me first, for cover. The closest thing to cover we could find before one of us was killed was right behind our Enforcer - and thank god our Enforcer was bullet proof.
The turtle's came out of their shell's when the Triad's started unleashing fire on some of the Mafia front men who had been firing at us, who hadn't been firing at all.
That's when we all lit another cigarette after tossing our last butte and decided to start a stand off, a shoot out.
"I've never killed a man." I said.
The rest of the boy's ignored me. They were bad asses, other guys who didn't take shit from anyone but me. They had tattoo's marking the names of gang leader's they killed, while I had signature's from all the inmates I got - more wimpy, yes; but my job was to capture, not kill. That was my job until then, anyway.
We loaded our sixty-shell clips into the M-16's. I looked to the man next to me, Roger. Roger was yet another bad ass, willing to kill for a living. He thought killing was keeping America alive, he was living to put someone else in danger - he'd be a cop without his pay if they offered it.
"Don't waste the ammo. Kill them - they've wasted their lives… They deserve my bullets."
I didn't care what he said. It was pointless, even though I should've said it as the Squad Leader.
"On three…" another man said.
"One…"
"Two…"
"Three!"
We popped up, eyes focused on our scopes but still moving ever- so-quickly. There were men everywhere! I had never been in any thing close to a fire fight as this… This was a fire fight.
Men fell down everywhere I looked. I hadn't shot anything but one tire on each of the car's wheels. Hey, somebody had to do it. Then we dropped again.
"FIRE AT SOMEONE, GOD DAMMIT!" Roger yelled directly at my face, getting spit on my SWAT helmet.
I hated Roger. He deserves patrol, just shooting at any slightest thing (Liberty's Internal Affair's wouldn't care because Liberty had no Internal Affairs). Hate is a strong word, and I not only hated Roger, I wanted him to feel the pain of three Uzi bullet's in the shin, like I had gotten because of his stupid 'macho' ways.
"I am the squad leader here. You will do as I say. I say that you SHUT YOUR MOTHER FUCKING MOUTH AND AIM FOR THEM YOURSELF, ASS LICKER!"
No one minded what I said besides Roger - they knew I had it in for him. I knew he had it in for me. I just didn't realize how much.
Roger charged at me after dropping his gun, holding his six inch knife. I fell back and kicked him into the air, forcing him to back flip towards the outer fire.
I thought he would've been shot by a bullet. No - he dropped his knife and fell on it. It severely wounded his left shin, probably preventing him from walking.
"JEEEESUS! JESUS CHRIST! THE PAIN!" Roger screamed.
So I hurt the guy! It's not like any one on my squad really liked him.
"Why the hell did you do that?" another one of the guys barked.
Why did I do it? What was I supposed to do - let him stab me with a machete the size of a butcher's knife? Jesus, they were idiots!
"I did it because he would've killed me!"
They ignored me. Apparently it was a rhetorical question - so I ignored Roger. One of the guys began to count again.
"One… Two… Three!"
We popped up again, only this time with out Roger, just me and the three others. They were Mark - the one who was counting off, John - a fat guy who thought assault was fun, and Donald - a guy who was sent here from New York by the FBI's orders.
The Triad's had been losing men fast - not that I cared. It's just that I didn't expect the Triad's to be killed off like water trying to be thicker than blood. The Mafia had apparently forgotten us cops, but the Triad's didn't - and that's why they were losing.
I aimed at a couple Mafia front men. They didn't notice - they forgot about us as I said. I began to pull the trigger.
I inhaled. My heart pounded. I slowly pulled the trigger back, adjusting the scope to be aimed directly at one of their heads. Sweat dripped off my face like water goes down the drain.
Can I do this?, I thought.
I pulled a little further.
Then we were shot at, and I barely made myself fall down in time.
"I've been hit!" John yelled.
I hated John. He was to fat. He was to obnoxious. He was annoying. He could kill a man like it was swatting a fly, as if people had no feelings and were just there.
"Call for back up. What happened to Roger?"
Silence behind the Enforcer. I looked to my left, and saw a dead man. A dead man, forever.