BLAM!
Maria's head snapped back and she flew a couple of feet. Like a gunfighter, I blew the smoke from the barrel of my nine and slowly stepped towards where Maria had fallen. Her expression wasn't that of anger or anguish, but rather one of genuine surprise, a neat circular hole freshly planted above her left eye. I'm sure that dreams of a cozy red house with a white picket fence and a couple rugrats running around had been dancing in her head up till the moment of her demise. Really seemed like she had took a real liking to me; it was unfortunate that the feeling wasn't mutual. I had things to do.
Walking out of Cochrane Dam I stuck my gat into my pants and made my way to the Cartel Cruiser that I had recently liberated from Catalina's mansion. I noticed that the hubcaps had been lifted during my short absence. Shit, I thought, this sort of riffraff was only supposed to happen in Portland. I immediately dismissed it and got behind the wheel of Catalina's vehicle. I fished a battered pack of Lucky Strikes out of my jacket pocket and tapped out a stog. I pushed in her car's lighter, leaned back and shut my eyes. It was all finally over. I had got that backstabbing bitch back for getting me tossed in the stir, the mafia's organization was in chaos, the cartel and their spank business presently obsolete, and the yakuza was without a leader. Liberty City could've been mine for the taking, if I wanted it. The lighter popped out with an audible click. I pressed the heated metal into the cancer stick and took a long, deep drag. I exhaled a cloud of blue smoke and put the sucker in drive; my destination: Francis International Airport. Fuck Liberty city, I needed something new.
A parade of Liberty City's finest flew down the road, their sirens blaring a deafening klaxon. I counted up to seven, then quit because I didn't feel like doing it anymore. Squad car after squad car sped past my cruiser in the adjacent lane of traffic. Apparently they were taking Catalina's helicopter mishap fairly seriously. Some flatfoot wanted to be a hero; sure sucked that they missed the fireworks by a mere minutes. I arrived at the airport when it hit me: I had no money. Damn, I had neglected to bring my bankroll with me; I was
so juiced about getting word from Catalina that I had straight forgot about it. I needed to make a beeline back to my hideout. I flipped on Flashback Radio and listened to Deborah Harry sing about her favorite vice. I rolled the cruiser into the driveway of my Shoreside Vale hideaway and was out in a flash. I hustled my ass though the double doors and punched the call elevator button. After seveal moments, the metal doors parted and I stepped inside the lift. On the way up, I picked up a funny scent that immediately made me think of Sears Point raceway that my pop had taken me to when I was a kid. I shook my head as the lift made it to my floor and the elevator opened. I exited, picked up the brown carrying bag and walked towards the plush bed that sat in the middle of the room. Kneeling down, I procured a solid metal lockbox from under the bedframe and plopped in onto the bed. I opened the box and my jaw damn near dropped to the ground floor. My entire stash was gone.
"Planning on going somewhere?" a voice from behind me asked.
I spun around to come face to face with Joey Leone clad in his mechanic coveralls that were stained with motor oil and grime. He was holding a SaveOn plastic shopping bag crammed with stacks of dead presidents in his left hand, a silver plated magnum in his right.
"Joey," I said, "how you doing, brother? That's quite a piece you got there."
That's right, play it cool.
"Shut your fucking mouth you rat bastard."
Looks like cool might be going out the window. Taking a few slow steps towards Joey I tried my hardest to sound amiable.
"Listen, Joey, put the gun down. It doesn't have to be like this." He fiddled with the hammer and spat "You take one step closer and I'll blow your fucking ass away!"
I halted and pointed towards the shopping bag. "So, you're taking my funds."
"And I'm also taking your life. You killed my dad, and now I'm going to repay the favor." He flicked the hammer back and I saw my life flash before my eyes. This was it, all she wrote, seeya later...when then I opened my mouth.
"Wait. Joey I didn't cap Salvatore. I admit that I worked for the Yakuza, but I had no hand in your fathers death. If you spare my life, I can double what's in that shopping bag."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because, I'm telling you the god honest truth."
Joey looked at me for a long hard minute. I could feel the beads of presperation gathering on my brow and the business end of the 357 Magnum looked about as large as the fear in my stomach.
"Fuck you, douche bag." He barked and then pulled the trigger. I squeezed my eyes shut, and waited to feel my intestines drop to the floor.
CLICK.
I opened my eyes and saw Joey grimace. Misfire? He dropped the plastic bag, grasped the heater in both hands and tried again. CLICK. CLICK. Today must be my lucky day. In one fluid movement, I snatched my nine millimeter from the back of my pants and drew it upon Joey Leone. Looking down the barrel of a gun is a frightening thing, as I saw his expression change from vengeful fury to icy fear. A second later, I emptied my entire clip into his midsection and face. Salvatore Leone's son did a funny little jig as the bullets tore apart his vitals, finally collapsing against the wall. He slowly slid down, leaving a trail of crimson on the paint. I quickly grabbed the shopping sack and emptied the contents into the brown carrying bag. I stepped over Joey Leone, careful not to get his blood on my kicks, and took the elevator downstairs. I opened the doors and took a breath of fresh air. It was finally over; no more loose ends, I was free.
That's when i felt the butt of an uzi connect with the back of my skull with an unhealthy crunch. I fell to my knees as a foot was shot to my back. My mouth instantly flooded with the taste of copper as I rolled over to see who had coldcocked me. Misty stood over my frame, gun in hand. Her features were hard to read because she stood right in front of the sun; sort of a Misty eclipse.
"Are you going to kill me?" I gasped.
"No. You were always nice to me. But something that's even nicer than you is what's in your bag." Misty leaned over, keeping the uzi trained on my face, and picked up my bag full of high society. "The right color, and it always fits. See ya around, hon."
She drove her stiletto heel into my sweetmeats. Pain exploded in my groin as I curled into a fetal position, my balls already swelling to the size of mason jars. I caught Misty hopping into the passenger side of a gold Sentinal and I could've sworn that she winked at me. The bitch. It all made sense though. She must've rigged Joey's gun to misfire when she saw the opportunity to swoop in for the goods. Women. And they call them the weaker sex, I mused as I picked myself off of the ground. My head was throbbing and I was fairly certain I was just deprived of my ability to father children. Screw it, I thought, they'd only grow up to take me for all I had anyways.
I staggered into my black Kurmura and laughed at the irony of it all. The call girl gets the motherload and probably escapes to a tropical paradise. I guess vice does pay...I put the car in drive and headed towards the airport. I think I had about worn out my welcome in Liberty City, I need a change of scenery in a major way. Vice City would be nice, but too hard to establish a racket there; Tommy Vercetti still had that place under his thumb. City of Angels was a possiblity, as was Sin City, but a little voice was telling me that my place was the Bay.
"And how can I help you today, sir?" The girl at the ticket counter asked with a smile that looked like it cost several thousand dollars.
"How much for a ticket to San Andreas?"
My compass had quit spinning and found itself a true north...to the West...
Maria's head snapped back and she flew a couple of feet. Like a gunfighter, I blew the smoke from the barrel of my nine and slowly stepped towards where Maria had fallen. Her expression wasn't that of anger or anguish, but rather one of genuine surprise, a neat circular hole freshly planted above her left eye. I'm sure that dreams of a cozy red house with a white picket fence and a couple rugrats running around had been dancing in her head up till the moment of her demise. Really seemed like she had took a real liking to me; it was unfortunate that the feeling wasn't mutual. I had things to do.
Walking out of Cochrane Dam I stuck my gat into my pants and made my way to the Cartel Cruiser that I had recently liberated from Catalina's mansion. I noticed that the hubcaps had been lifted during my short absence. Shit, I thought, this sort of riffraff was only supposed to happen in Portland. I immediately dismissed it and got behind the wheel of Catalina's vehicle. I fished a battered pack of Lucky Strikes out of my jacket pocket and tapped out a stog. I pushed in her car's lighter, leaned back and shut my eyes. It was all finally over. I had got that backstabbing bitch back for getting me tossed in the stir, the mafia's organization was in chaos, the cartel and their spank business presently obsolete, and the yakuza was without a leader. Liberty City could've been mine for the taking, if I wanted it. The lighter popped out with an audible click. I pressed the heated metal into the cancer stick and took a long, deep drag. I exhaled a cloud of blue smoke and put the sucker in drive; my destination: Francis International Airport. Fuck Liberty city, I needed something new.
A parade of Liberty City's finest flew down the road, their sirens blaring a deafening klaxon. I counted up to seven, then quit because I didn't feel like doing it anymore. Squad car after squad car sped past my cruiser in the adjacent lane of traffic. Apparently they were taking Catalina's helicopter mishap fairly seriously. Some flatfoot wanted to be a hero; sure sucked that they missed the fireworks by a mere minutes. I arrived at the airport when it hit me: I had no money. Damn, I had neglected to bring my bankroll with me; I was
so juiced about getting word from Catalina that I had straight forgot about it. I needed to make a beeline back to my hideout. I flipped on Flashback Radio and listened to Deborah Harry sing about her favorite vice. I rolled the cruiser into the driveway of my Shoreside Vale hideaway and was out in a flash. I hustled my ass though the double doors and punched the call elevator button. After seveal moments, the metal doors parted and I stepped inside the lift. On the way up, I picked up a funny scent that immediately made me think of Sears Point raceway that my pop had taken me to when I was a kid. I shook my head as the lift made it to my floor and the elevator opened. I exited, picked up the brown carrying bag and walked towards the plush bed that sat in the middle of the room. Kneeling down, I procured a solid metal lockbox from under the bedframe and plopped in onto the bed. I opened the box and my jaw damn near dropped to the ground floor. My entire stash was gone.
"Planning on going somewhere?" a voice from behind me asked.
I spun around to come face to face with Joey Leone clad in his mechanic coveralls that were stained with motor oil and grime. He was holding a SaveOn plastic shopping bag crammed with stacks of dead presidents in his left hand, a silver plated magnum in his right.
"Joey," I said, "how you doing, brother? That's quite a piece you got there."
That's right, play it cool.
"Shut your fucking mouth you rat bastard."
Looks like cool might be going out the window. Taking a few slow steps towards Joey I tried my hardest to sound amiable.
"Listen, Joey, put the gun down. It doesn't have to be like this." He fiddled with the hammer and spat "You take one step closer and I'll blow your fucking ass away!"
I halted and pointed towards the shopping bag. "So, you're taking my funds."
"And I'm also taking your life. You killed my dad, and now I'm going to repay the favor." He flicked the hammer back and I saw my life flash before my eyes. This was it, all she wrote, seeya later...when then I opened my mouth.
"Wait. Joey I didn't cap Salvatore. I admit that I worked for the Yakuza, but I had no hand in your fathers death. If you spare my life, I can double what's in that shopping bag."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because, I'm telling you the god honest truth."
Joey looked at me for a long hard minute. I could feel the beads of presperation gathering on my brow and the business end of the 357 Magnum looked about as large as the fear in my stomach.
"Fuck you, douche bag." He barked and then pulled the trigger. I squeezed my eyes shut, and waited to feel my intestines drop to the floor.
CLICK.
I opened my eyes and saw Joey grimace. Misfire? He dropped the plastic bag, grasped the heater in both hands and tried again. CLICK. CLICK. Today must be my lucky day. In one fluid movement, I snatched my nine millimeter from the back of my pants and drew it upon Joey Leone. Looking down the barrel of a gun is a frightening thing, as I saw his expression change from vengeful fury to icy fear. A second later, I emptied my entire clip into his midsection and face. Salvatore Leone's son did a funny little jig as the bullets tore apart his vitals, finally collapsing against the wall. He slowly slid down, leaving a trail of crimson on the paint. I quickly grabbed the shopping sack and emptied the contents into the brown carrying bag. I stepped over Joey Leone, careful not to get his blood on my kicks, and took the elevator downstairs. I opened the doors and took a breath of fresh air. It was finally over; no more loose ends, I was free.
That's when i felt the butt of an uzi connect with the back of my skull with an unhealthy crunch. I fell to my knees as a foot was shot to my back. My mouth instantly flooded with the taste of copper as I rolled over to see who had coldcocked me. Misty stood over my frame, gun in hand. Her features were hard to read because she stood right in front of the sun; sort of a Misty eclipse.
"Are you going to kill me?" I gasped.
"No. You were always nice to me. But something that's even nicer than you is what's in your bag." Misty leaned over, keeping the uzi trained on my face, and picked up my bag full of high society. "The right color, and it always fits. See ya around, hon."
She drove her stiletto heel into my sweetmeats. Pain exploded in my groin as I curled into a fetal position, my balls already swelling to the size of mason jars. I caught Misty hopping into the passenger side of a gold Sentinal and I could've sworn that she winked at me. The bitch. It all made sense though. She must've rigged Joey's gun to misfire when she saw the opportunity to swoop in for the goods. Women. And they call them the weaker sex, I mused as I picked myself off of the ground. My head was throbbing and I was fairly certain I was just deprived of my ability to father children. Screw it, I thought, they'd only grow up to take me for all I had anyways.
I staggered into my black Kurmura and laughed at the irony of it all. The call girl gets the motherload and probably escapes to a tropical paradise. I guess vice does pay...I put the car in drive and headed towards the airport. I think I had about worn out my welcome in Liberty City, I need a change of scenery in a major way. Vice City would be nice, but too hard to establish a racket there; Tommy Vercetti still had that place under his thumb. City of Angels was a possiblity, as was Sin City, but a little voice was telling me that my place was the Bay.
"And how can I help you today, sir?" The girl at the ticket counter asked with a smile that looked like it cost several thousand dollars.
"How much for a ticket to San Andreas?"
My compass had quit spinning and found itself a true north...to the West...