Protocol sucked. You wouldn't expect me to say that, but god dammit, I
wanted to bash everyone in the planning room's heads in. I hated them all.
They left a SWAT Team up against both the Mafia and the Triads in a public area. What are they doing to these poor, innocent people? Well, okay, maybe not innocent - even us fed's did something illegal. After all, this is Liberty City.
They did it because it was protocol. Everything was protocol around here. Hailing outside, SWAT's doing a major bust only to get busted, and two gangs going at it at the same time. All we could do was shelter the people around it. . . because it was protocol.
Well, in ten minutes I get out of here. Unless the bureau brought the situation back up before I left, I'll go straight home. My home, the opposite side of town. My home, my only safe spot. My home. Crime free at home.
I was bored of what we were going over. We were going over ways to stop some random guy who keeped pissing the cops and us fed's off on a daily basis. Idiots, commiting crimes for no reason. Money this and money that, if you could keep away from us you could get a job with us for a higher pay and no problems with killing people. Killing people was alright. Nothing wrong with it if you do it to a bad person. Just speeds up God's process, and we all need that.
". . .George? What are you doing?" the leader asked.
I was gazing out the window, but I knew he meant what I was thinking. I still had that SWAT team stuck in my head.
"Why don't we just go and save those SWAT's?" I responded.
"We here at the FBI have priorities. You, being young, probably don't know them well quite. . ."
"Our priority is to save lives. How are we saving lives by deciding the frequency of helicopter patrols when we could stop a firefight?"
"Is George the only one who feels this way?"
I looked over to see who else on the long meeting table, and how they responded. Nobody important besides me, clearly, but I was surprised to see that I wasn't the only one raising the hand. Infact, everyone was raising their hands. No one else should count here.
"Well, in that case, maybe I do have my priorities screwed up. I'll send a team out, and George: You're on it."
10 minutes away from starting my weekend and I get put on the job to save a few lives.
. . .
I was in an FBI car. Apparently this bust wouldn't be that much of a secret bust. We all had our sirens on, me leading the pack. I had my M-16 with me. And thank god.
I saw the shootout. I saw one SWAT lieing down and bullets whizzing by all of their heads. I felt the need to save them. . . And I will save them.
They will pay, I thought.
I drove into the limousine of the Mafia's, diving out of the car like an action movie star seconds before impact. It bought the SWAT's some time, maybe even saved a life.
I ran directly to the eclipsed SWAT van, ducking and dashing my way behind it to where the SWAT's were.
"Who the hell are you?" a short SWAT queried
The bastard. I go out of my way to protect these people's lives on a daily basis, nearly kill myself buying them time, ruining a car and spending all five of Liberty's taxpayers dollars, and all he can say to me is. . .
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he asked again.
"Easy, easy. . ." Donald said.
I recognized Donald. I was the one who suggested the bureau send some of their special agents to the regular police for assistance. Donald was easily one of the best fighter's ever to go through Federal training.
"What? Who is this kid?" the short man asked again.
Donald stood up for me by responding with "He's a fed, you friggin' idiot!"
"Why are you here?"
"The bureau wouldn't grant a full raid, so I took the Liberty to get myself and a few other agents to come here and try to save your god damn lives. That alright?!"
I was a tad pissed off.
"Where's the other Feds, then?"
I forgot about them.
Looking out past the SWAT vehicle for a moment while the SWAT's covered me, I saw that may partners had been cornered in between the Gate, the Triads, and the Mafia.
"We need to get over to them," I said.
"We need them to get over here," the short man said.
"Just kill, god damn it! Kill! KILL! KILL!" the fat SWAT said.
Amen to that.
Kill them all. . .
Without actually planning anything in particular, one of the SWAT's counted and then all of us popped up and shot at anything that shot at us.
"How's Roger doing?" Donald asked.
"Roger?" I responded. Who the hell was Roger?
The short man pointed at a body lying on the ground.
I hated the sight of a dead man. A dead man, forever.
They left a SWAT Team up against both the Mafia and the Triads in a public area. What are they doing to these poor, innocent people? Well, okay, maybe not innocent - even us fed's did something illegal. After all, this is Liberty City.
They did it because it was protocol. Everything was protocol around here. Hailing outside, SWAT's doing a major bust only to get busted, and two gangs going at it at the same time. All we could do was shelter the people around it. . . because it was protocol.
Well, in ten minutes I get out of here. Unless the bureau brought the situation back up before I left, I'll go straight home. My home, the opposite side of town. My home, my only safe spot. My home. Crime free at home.
I was bored of what we were going over. We were going over ways to stop some random guy who keeped pissing the cops and us fed's off on a daily basis. Idiots, commiting crimes for no reason. Money this and money that, if you could keep away from us you could get a job with us for a higher pay and no problems with killing people. Killing people was alright. Nothing wrong with it if you do it to a bad person. Just speeds up God's process, and we all need that.
". . .George? What are you doing?" the leader asked.
I was gazing out the window, but I knew he meant what I was thinking. I still had that SWAT team stuck in my head.
"Why don't we just go and save those SWAT's?" I responded.
"We here at the FBI have priorities. You, being young, probably don't know them well quite. . ."
"Our priority is to save lives. How are we saving lives by deciding the frequency of helicopter patrols when we could stop a firefight?"
"Is George the only one who feels this way?"
I looked over to see who else on the long meeting table, and how they responded. Nobody important besides me, clearly, but I was surprised to see that I wasn't the only one raising the hand. Infact, everyone was raising their hands. No one else should count here.
"Well, in that case, maybe I do have my priorities screwed up. I'll send a team out, and George: You're on it."
10 minutes away from starting my weekend and I get put on the job to save a few lives.
. . .
I was in an FBI car. Apparently this bust wouldn't be that much of a secret bust. We all had our sirens on, me leading the pack. I had my M-16 with me. And thank god.
I saw the shootout. I saw one SWAT lieing down and bullets whizzing by all of their heads. I felt the need to save them. . . And I will save them.
They will pay, I thought.
I drove into the limousine of the Mafia's, diving out of the car like an action movie star seconds before impact. It bought the SWAT's some time, maybe even saved a life.
I ran directly to the eclipsed SWAT van, ducking and dashing my way behind it to where the SWAT's were.
"Who the hell are you?" a short SWAT queried
The bastard. I go out of my way to protect these people's lives on a daily basis, nearly kill myself buying them time, ruining a car and spending all five of Liberty's taxpayers dollars, and all he can say to me is. . .
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he asked again.
"Easy, easy. . ." Donald said.
I recognized Donald. I was the one who suggested the bureau send some of their special agents to the regular police for assistance. Donald was easily one of the best fighter's ever to go through Federal training.
"What? Who is this kid?" the short man asked again.
Donald stood up for me by responding with "He's a fed, you friggin' idiot!"
"Why are you here?"
"The bureau wouldn't grant a full raid, so I took the Liberty to get myself and a few other agents to come here and try to save your god damn lives. That alright?!"
I was a tad pissed off.
"Where's the other Feds, then?"
I forgot about them.
Looking out past the SWAT vehicle for a moment while the SWAT's covered me, I saw that may partners had been cornered in between the Gate, the Triads, and the Mafia.
"We need to get over to them," I said.
"We need them to get over here," the short man said.
"Just kill, god damn it! Kill! KILL! KILL!" the fat SWAT said.
Amen to that.
Kill them all. . .
Without actually planning anything in particular, one of the SWAT's counted and then all of us popped up and shot at anything that shot at us.
"How's Roger doing?" Donald asked.
"Roger?" I responded. Who the hell was Roger?
The short man pointed at a body lying on the ground.
I hated the sight of a dead man. A dead man, forever.