A fanfic based on the video game Grand Theft Auto 3
by OrangePeach
This is a work of fan fiction based on an already copyrighted product. The author realizes the rights of the product being written and assumes no fraudulent intent or copyright infringement was intended in the creation of her work. This story is written for entertainment purposes only.
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Part One: Portland
1: A Nice Place to Live
Liberty City, New York was a fantastic place to be if you were a drug dealer, a murderer, a rapist, a child preditor, a con artist, or even a petty theif. It was a dark city overlooking the ocean, divided into three districts: Shoreside Vale, the residential district; Staunton Island, the commercial district; and Portland, the industrial district. The latter is where Eddie d'Angelo made his home.
Eddie d'Angelo looked out his kitchen window from his apartment and watched as seagulls crossed over the cloudy sky. The sun never shined in Liberty City anymore, at least not in Portland. He glanced down at the table in front of him to the newspaper, the Liberty Tree. The front page had a single black-and-white photo of the Callahan Bridge, the connection between Portland and Staunton Island. Seven dead, twenty injured in bridge blast was the headline. Beneath the aerial photograph of the exploded bridge was this caption:
Police convoy transporting three inmates to Liberty City Penetentiary was ambushed last Saturday by a group of unknown assailents. Details are few, but there is proof of a bomb being detonated, killing and injuring many passersby. The Callahan Bridge will be out of commition indefinately.
Eddie thought back to that day. Details were few indeed, but Eddie remembered several men in black, swinging open the doors, shooting the driver and one guard, and then a large, ear-splitting blast. The next thing he knew, he was speeding away in an abandoned car with another inmate. That inmate was his friend and former cellmate 8-Ball.
"Drive me to my place," he said. "Then get your ass home. Lay low for awhile." 8-Ball's hands were injured in an accident at the holding jail a week earlier, rendering him unable to drive. Eddie dropped his friend off at his junkyard in Harwood, changed his clothes, and then drove back to his apartment in St. Mark's. It had all happened so fast, Eddie thought his head was spinning.
Eddie flipped open to the classified ads and began running his finger along the columns. He had only been free for two days, and he'd need a job to pay for his utilities again. He was happy that his mother had paid next month's rent for him so he could come home to a warm, yet cluttered house and sleep for a day or two. There was something about jail that made him so tired. He was lucky the lights were still on -- there were two warnings from Liberty Edison in his mail box. He'd have to remember to pay that when he got some cash together.
Eddie stumbled upon an ad in the middle of pace 1c. It was short but to the point: 'Joey's Garage is seeking employement. Call 555-0495'. He frowned when he realized that he didn't yet have a cell phone, so calling was out of the question. He'd have to go down and visit the place today.
Not a bad idea, he thought. He ripped out the page, stuffed it in his jeans pocket and headed for the door.
Joey Leone's Garage was in Trenton -- just on the southeast side of Portland. The cab ride was quick and cheap, and Eddie was glad to be there by noon. It was right across from the Bitchin' Dog Food factory, so it wasn't hard to find. He got out of the cab, paid the driver, and walked up to the open garage. Inside, there was a man, dressed in faded blue coveralls, underneath the chassis of a almost-finished BF Injection. The buggy looked like it had been in a wreck previously, and wasn't very attractive. There were loud noises all through the garage: welders were welding car frames back together, men were working on cars pushed up on high platforms. They were all dressed in similar blue coveralls.
"You Joey?" Eddie asked, walking into the garage. "I'm Eddie. I read your ad in the Tree."
The man, a large, Italian-blooded native, pushed himself out from under the buggy. His face was covered with engine oil, and he frowned when he saw Eddie standing there.
"What ad?" he asked.
"The ad in the paper -- about the job?"
The man, Joey Leone, chuckled. "I don't know what your talkin' about. I ain't put no ad in no paper." He pushed himself back under the car. "Get your ass outta here kid," he instructed Eddie with obvious amusement. "Go wind some work at a fast food joint. I ain't hiring."
Eddie scowled and removed the paper from his back pocket. "I've got the paper right here," he said. "It says your place is looking for employment. Then it has your phone number."
"Kid, I ain't got time to put no high school boy to work," Joey explained irritably. "I'm looking for someone who knows cars, not someone who wishes they were Dale Earnhart or somethin'." He gestured with his hand. "Now go. I'm busy."
Eddie put his hands on his hips. "Mr. Leone," he said. "If you want that car to start, you should at least plug in the high-tention cable to the ditributor." He smirked. "No point in rebuilding the whole carburator if that's not plugged in first."
There was a slight pause. Leone pushed out from under the car. "Well, shit kid," he said with a grin. "Thanks for pointin' that out. Looks like you know more than I thought." He got up and stretched out a dirty hand. "Joey Leone," he introduced himself. "What did you say your name was? Freddy?"
"Eddie," he said, shaking his hand. "Eddie d'Angelo. Nice to meet you sir."
"You say you know cars?"
"Yessir."
"How well?"
"I took auto shop in high school," Eddie explained. "And I worked as an auto mechanic's aid in Jeuvie." He decided not to add the part about him being in jail. "I'm pretty good at what I do and know sir."
"I can see that. Tell you what kid," Leone said, pointing to the back of the room. "There's a guy back there, his name is Scott. Tell him I said to get you an application and a work schedule." He smiled. "I'm a guy short tonight. We'll give you a trial run if you want."
"Thanks," Eddie said. "Scott, you said?"
"Yeah. Skinny kid with red hair. You'll notice him."
Eddie walked past Leone and his buggy and walked through a small opened door at the end of the room. He entered into the lobby area of the garage, and walked up to the first guy he saw: a tall kid in blue coveralls with a blue baseball cap. The cap had a Joey's Garage patch on the front, and across the kid's left pectoral there was a similar patch with the name 'Scott' sewn onto it.
"Hey," Eddie said. "You must be Scott, right?"
The kid raised his head. He was the only worker who was not covered from head to toe in oil and grease. "No," he said sarcastically. "I'm just wearing his uniform. Whaddya want? I'm busy."
Eddie jabbed his thumb behind him. "Mr. Leone sent me back here. Said you'd give me an application and a work schedule."
Scott laughed. "So, you're the new hired gun around here?" he asked. "Shit, you'll be pushin' up daisies before the end of the week!"
Eddie wasn't so sure what he meant, but he ignored it. "Could I fill the application out here? I really ain't got no where's else to go."
"Good, it's gonna take awhile," Scott said. "Yeah, take a seat over there --" he pointed to an old, dusty chair against the glass window, "--and take your time. I'll get you a schedule when your done."
Scott passed Eddie an application from across the counter. Eddie picked it up. "Damn, this shit is thick as hell," he remarked. "Is this like the GED? No peaking or asking for help?"
"Take your time," Scott repeated. "Not a test, just info." He glanced over his right shoulder and sighed. "Aw, shit, man. Hold on. I'll be right back."
As Scott went into the garage from the small door, Eddie took a seat on one of the chairs. He removed a pen from his jacket pocket and filled in his name, age, and address. Immediately following the basic bits of knowlege, there was an odd question:
Are you or have you ever had any connections with a crime family/syndicate? If so, explain.
Eddie raised an eyebrow. That's a strange question, he thought. Why would they ask me that?
As he looked up to call out to Scott, he noticed that Scott was already preoccupied. He was standing with three girls, all of which were probably in their early twenties. They were all three different races -- one was black, one was Hispanic, and one was white. The white girl, who was significantly shorter than the other two, was facing away from Eddie, talking adamantly with Scott. She was wearing a maroon, velvet coat, and her long, strawberry-blonde hair was spilling out over her shoulders. Eddie stared at the girl, wondering if he saw her before, and found himself wishing she would turn around so he could see her face.
Scott looked like he was yelling, but their girls didn't. One of them, the Hispanic one, turned and looked at Eddie. Her face was square, her dark hair was short and spiky. When she smiled at him, Eddie quickly looked back down at his application.
A second later, Eddie heard the door opening, and looked back up again. Scott had reentered the store, his face scowling. The girls, however, were gone.
"Bitch," he muttered under his breath. "Give an inch, she takes a mile."
Eddie looked back down at his application. He picked up his pen and silently wrote 'no' beneath the question.
Later that night, Eddie found himself beneath the hood of a junky old Esperanto with the front wheels missing. Next to him, Joey Leone, stood watching his every move.
"It's the antifreeze resevoir," Eddie said finally, pointing to the problem areas. "There's a crack the size of Georgia in it. It has to be replaced."
Leone nodded. "Very good. And?"
Eddie's eyes darted around. He smiled and pointed. "The serpantine belt is wearing out. That'll need to be replaced too. The owners didn't take to good care of this car, huh?"
"What do you expect from a group of spics?" Leone joked. "Got this heap of shit from some Diablo wannabes. They don't know shit. Looks like they've taken it out on side roads once two often." He patted Eddie on the back. "Go ahead and fix this up, kid. Scott will be around to help out soon. I've got to get the hell out of here for the night. You do well tonight, and we'll see you again tomorrow and on Thursday too. Start you off at minimum, but I'm sure you'll work to be far up in the line."
"Thanks, sir," Eddie said. "I appreciate that."
"Aw knock off that formal bullshit. It's Mr. Leone to you, ok?"
Eddie watched as Leone headed towards the garage door exit. Before he could get too far, Eddie called out to him. "Hey! Mr. Leone?"
He turned around. "Yeah?"
"What...what was with the questions on the application? About the mob and stuff like that?"
Leone chuckled. "Aw, you know, kid. There's lots of gangs around Liberty City. You never know if you're working with one or not." He shrugged. "This used to be a nice place to live, but it's like Shit's Landing, right?"
Eddie nodded. "Yeah. I guess."