Title: A Bullet for the Sadist
Rating: R (Swearing. Gore. The usual for GTA)
Author: MacyBlue
Contact: white_wolf_silver_knight@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Grand Theft Auto and all its respectful characters belong to Rockstar games, and all their partner companies. The song lyrics to "45" belong to Shinedown. I am not making any money off this.
Summary: After a betrayal at the hands of a relative of the Leone family, somebody is out for revenge.
Feedback: …Is always nice! You can either review on Fanfiction.net's review system or send me a private e-mail, either is fine.
Note: The writing style is mimicked frequently from the book, Fight Club. So the statements that stand on their own are usually jumbled thoughts of the narrator. Just read, you'll understand!
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Chapter One: To Run

"Where are you?" His breath was shallow over the phone. He wanted an answer.

I paused, contemplating what to say. Sorry, Nat, maybe another time, the magic eight ball says ask again later. "A long way from Liberty." I left it as simple as that. That's all he needed to know.

"A long way from Liberty," He repeated, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" He continued on when I didn't answer, "Listen, what the fuck happened? I wake up, you're gone, and Mike Castell's death is all over the news! What happened?"

What could I say? I didn't really know myself. "He killed them, Nat." I let out a sorrowful sigh. "So I killed him." My voice was bold, I said each word slowly, letting each syllable roll of my tongue.

His voice became calmer. "Listen, I know it's hard, but killing Michael just fucked you over. Everybody is looking for you, Chrissie!"

"Well what the fuck was I supposed to do?" I couldn't help but shout. Didn't the dumb fuck get what I was doing? Shouldn't he, of all people, understand revenge?

He began to bellow into the receiver, his voice giving off a low echo from the cheap phone, "I don't know! But you screwed yourself over now! You don't just kill a guy like Michael and live to see it! Mike was Anthony's top man, his friend! You've really dug yourself a shit-hole this time!"

Fucker.
Where's the support when I need it?

"You know what? You can go to hell. Don't expect to hear from me again, you asshole!" I slammed the payphone down in its place, attracting stares from passerby's. Stare all you want, people.

This is great. Just great. What do I do now?

I didn't know what to think. I wasn't sure if I was sad or angry. I wanted to mourn, like I should be able to, but I also wanted to rampage. I wanted to put a bullet through every person I saw, just so they could feel the slightest bit like I feel. My thoughts were unclear. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to feel.

I wouldn't be able to go to their funeral. I think I might puke. Where's the nearest gun store? Why are people looking at me? Oh god, I feel sick. Why did I leave?

Are they really dead?

I was, for the first time in a long time, confused. I was lost inside my head. I had to relax, or else I might do something stupid. "Chris, just get a hold of yourself. Relax and think this through" I coached myself, attempting to calm down. I had to become numb to feeling for now. I had to. If I didn't then I would be loose cannon.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Are we calm?
Yes, we're calm.
Now don't we feel much better?
Yes, much better.
No more pain?
No more pain.
No more pain.

I looked out across the sandy beaches at the rising sun. Beautiful colors of crimson and orange danced across the sky; it really makes you think. I realized that this was only the beginning. I realized that the repercussions of my actions had only begun to unfold. A few hours ago, I had everything. And now I had nothing, I had no one. Years of work, right down the shitter over a course of a few hours. I was back at square one, I was a child again. I was child who was sick and tired. I had been beaten and bloody a bit too much for a lifetime. But that was okay. 'Cause somebody was going to make up for that.

But that would have to wait. Remember, I kept telling myself, first thing's first. Survival comes before everything else. The blood I sought was back in Liberty City, and I was in Vice City. A long way from target, but my revenge had to be perfect. I had to watch him die. Michael was only the beginning.

People would suffer; I would make sure of that, but not now. I had to hide for a while; I had to create my army. I would need a little help, a little alliance, to do that.

My short-lived calmness was quickly overrun by anger. It took everything I had not to take a plane right back to Liberty and start a fucking war. It took everything I had.

First. Thing's. Fucking. First.

I flagged down a taxi. It screeched its tires as it stopped in front of me, splashing water on my front. A young dark-skinned man greeted me as I climbed into the back seat. "Where to?" he asked, turning around bringing his eyes upon my feminine figure. He raised his eyebrows and furrowed his brows together in a bored expression.

"A hotel, any hotel," I sighed. I didn't even sound like myself. Was I really that tired? Oh, I forgot I hadn't slept all night. Maybe I could sleep at the hotel

Numb to feeling. Had to be numb to feeling.

He began to drive, the car clanking every time he would brake. The ride was silent one, except for the radio emitting a strange techno-pop ballad. I guess he wasn't much of a talker.

That's good; I wasn't in the mood to talk.

I took this time to consider my position. Here I was, ready for my new start in life. A clean slate; a new goal. I had to see somebody. I needed help. No matter how much I hated it, I couldn't complete my revenge alone. I need the help of a man, a powerful man. And I knew just who to look for.

I looked at the back the taxi driver's slick, greased hair. "Hey," I stared blankly at him through his mirror, "Do you happen to know where a Mr. Tommy Vercetti lives?"