Liberty: Deceased
By Cochran
Note: I don't own GTA or any of their characters. I only own the characters that I myself made up.
PROLOUGE The alarm clock rang. It always had an annoying ring to Brad Katsopolis, who shifted across his bed and smacked the snooze button. He looked at the ceiling and realized that it was Monday. He rolled out of bed, getting ready to go to work. For him, and many people, Monday is the busiest day of the week. But for some unlucky soul across town, Monday was about to become the last day of the week, permanently......
Frank Cassidy was trembling. In all of his years working for Decaferon Enterprises, he had never been called into the bosses' office. But then again, he HAD screwed up big time last week.... but now what was going to happen to him? He glanced at his watch. It was 7:30 in the morning on a sunny September Monday morning and everything was peaceful. As Frank sat in the waiting room chair, he heard a door open. He looked around to see a large man in a jet black suit and slicked black hair approach him. The man motioned for Frank to get up, and to follow him into the boss' office.
Frank followed the man into the room. What he saw was surprising; posters of the legendary group The Beatles adorned the walls, as did hunting trophies and various other trophies. He glanced at the desk at the end of the room. The back of the chair was facing him, looking out the huge window at the back of the room. Frank approached the desk and sat down. He saw the nameplate on the desk. JON Mostou, it read. The name of the man in charge of Decaferon Enterprises.
The chair swiveled around to face Frank. Staring Frank straight in the eye, with a slight grin on his face, was Jon Mostou, the head of the company. Mostou motioned for the man in the suit to leave. He then turned to Frank, who was trying to loosen the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt.
"So...", Mostou began, still with a grin on his face. "So," he repeated, "Frank Cassidy. Employee of this company for 12 years. The most brilliant computer geek we have. Founder of the D chip. And, also, the man who almost destroyed me and everything that I and everyone else here have worked to attain!"
"But, boss"... Frank began, but was immediately cut off by Mostou, who stood up.
"But Boss", he said in a mock tone. "But boss this. The fact is, Frank, you screwed up last Thursday. We nearly got caught. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Frank swallowed hard. "I-I-I didn't mean to-you know I didn't-the gun just went off-"
Mostou cut him off again. "Oh, shut up. Brad has dealed with the problem, and we're good to go again. And this time, you aren't on duty. I'm not gonna fire you today, because I don't want to. You're too valuable. Now get going- I'm giving you the day off. You are excused."
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to be all right. Due to Mostou-and everyone else associated with him- he had feared for the worse. He got up, shook his bosses hand, and walked out of the room with a huge smile plastered on his face. Once Frank had left, Mostou sat back down. He too had a huge smile plastered on his face. "You're a liability, Frank... and I've got other business to take care of today", he muttered. He then spun his chair around to look out of the window.
A few dozen feet down, Frank Cassidy walked out of the main entrance of Decaferon Enterprises, still wearing a big smile. He walked over to his green Kuruma. Then paused and looked back up at the room that he was just in. He opened the door, got in his car, and started the engine.
This would be the last thing that Frank would ever remember. Three seconds later, the Kuruma, with Frank in it, blew up. Pedestrians rushed to the scene to see what happened.
Back up at Decaferon Enterprises, all was well. Not one person said a word. They just went about their business as usual. And somewhere, on the top floor, there was Jonathan Mostou, smiling and laughing at his deeds. Yes, this is what happens when you've betrayed the RAS, known to every two-bit crook and SPANK pusher in the city as the most ruthless company around.
CHAPTER ONE
"Crap!" Kyle Lewis burst to his feet, trying to wipe the coffee he just spilled on his lap off. Everybody else at Greasy Joe's Cafe turned and stared. Kyle stared at each and every one of them until they all turned back to their business. Kyle turned and sat back down, looking across the table at the man he was having breakfast with. It was Brad Katsopolis.
"Good one", Katsopolis said. He took a sip of coffee and put the cup back down. "Now I belive that's how it's properly done."
"Ah, shut up", Lewis said. "It wasn't my fault. You surprised me." He chuckled. "Although the fact that Frank Cassidy is dead isn't that surprising. How'd you know about it?"
"Simple", Brad said calmly, going back to his newspaper. "I had something to do with it."
Once again, Kyle Lewis dropped a cup of coffee on his lap and jolted up to his feet. "WHAT?!" he shrieked.
Katsopolis got to his feet and pulled Lewis out of the staring cafe. Once outside, he motioned for Lewis to enter Brad's new '01 Cheeta. Kyle reluctantly got into the car. Brad backed out of the driveway and sped off down the street.
"W-what happened?" Kyle muttered. "What're you talking about?" He still had a look of shock on his face.
"It's quite simple", Brad said, swiping a fly off of his black trench coat. "I'm a high ranked member of the RAS."
"WHAT?!" Kyle once again yelled, looking at Brad.
"You really have got to knock that 'what thing off. But yes, I am. I use all my connections with Katsopolis Inc.. to help fund the thing. As you may know, we deal with assassanations, rampages, and secret agent missions." Brad looked over at Kyle. "Oh, get off it. We don't kill innocent people. If we HAVE to kill somebody, then it's because they deserve it. And Frank Cassidy definately deserved it."
"Yeah, well- I know that- but- but what did he d-do"? Kyle asked, still quite shaken.
Brad, visibly calm and cool, responded. "He screwed up. You see, last Thursday, we sent three men into Beleville park to try and attempt the assassanation of Jefferey Faulkner, that little rodent. Frank was one of them. They got into Faulkners hideout and held him up. Frank stood guard outside. We have reason to think that he was going to betray us that night because when he saw a cop coming, he fired his gun five times in the air. The cop heard it and rushed to the scene, and the two guys with Frank got into a shootout with the cop, and got killed. Frank ran away, and so did Jefferey. Because of Frank, we missed Faulkner, lost two men, and almost got arrested."
Kyle stared at him. "But- were you the one who- who killed him?"
"No. That wasn't me. I don't run the RAS. That job goes to one man- Jon Mostou. You know him?" Kyle nodded. "Yeah, well all the employees of his company- who d'you think they are? Regular business men? No. They're agents. Assassains. Terrorists. All for the RAS. They're just in disguise. They're brillaint men, though- they develop new things everyday- but their our men. And Jon- when he wants someone dead, they are. And he wanted Frank dead. And so did everybody else. He tried- and was going to try again- to betray us."
Kyle stared at him in disgust. "Does your 'Katsopolis Inc..' have any of these guys?"
"Some of them. Oh, here we are." Brad pulled into the gated doorway of the Bitchin Dog Food Factory and parked the car. The two got out and entered the factory, which Kyle owned and also lived in. Kyle turned the light on. "What does this have to do with me?" he inquired, crashing onto the couch.
"Simple" Brad said. "I've got a job for you. The money's great- $3,000,000 per job. It's also fun. All you have to do is this- you own the bus station, don't you?"
"Well- well yeah."
"Yeah, well this is what you do. Get one of your buses and use it to barricade an exit near China Town. Get out, run on top of your bus and kill every damn Triad member you see. They've owed us money for too long."
Kyle laughed. "Yeah, right. And how am I going to do that?" Brad pulled something out from his behind back. It was an M16 Auto Rifle.
"With this", he said, chuckling. "Our army will back you up. The reason we're asking you to do this is because Jon thinks you'll be a 'great asset to our organization.' Some shit like that. Anyway, this is a test. You pull it off- you're made. We'll call you when we're ready."
Kyle stood up with a stone faced look. "For that money- I'll do it." He shook Brad's hand and Brad left. After Brad had left Kyle started jumping up and down with joy. With that type of money, he could finally afford to make something great out of himself. No more stupid bus service that only earned him the hatred of most of his passengers, who thought he drove too slow. No more manufacturing his own cheap Dog food to make ends meet.
Katsopolis entered his Cheeta. He sighed. Another person- who has nothing to do with anything illegal, and probably never would have- if not for the fact that Jon thought that he'd be a "valuable asset". Don't make the same mistake I made, he thought to himself as he sped off to his beach mansion.
Note: I don't own GTA or any of their characters. I only own the characters that I myself made up.
PROLOUGE The alarm clock rang. It always had an annoying ring to Brad Katsopolis, who shifted across his bed and smacked the snooze button. He looked at the ceiling and realized that it was Monday. He rolled out of bed, getting ready to go to work. For him, and many people, Monday is the busiest day of the week. But for some unlucky soul across town, Monday was about to become the last day of the week, permanently......
Frank Cassidy was trembling. In all of his years working for Decaferon Enterprises, he had never been called into the bosses' office. But then again, he HAD screwed up big time last week.... but now what was going to happen to him? He glanced at his watch. It was 7:30 in the morning on a sunny September Monday morning and everything was peaceful. As Frank sat in the waiting room chair, he heard a door open. He looked around to see a large man in a jet black suit and slicked black hair approach him. The man motioned for Frank to get up, and to follow him into the boss' office.
Frank followed the man into the room. What he saw was surprising; posters of the legendary group The Beatles adorned the walls, as did hunting trophies and various other trophies. He glanced at the desk at the end of the room. The back of the chair was facing him, looking out the huge window at the back of the room. Frank approached the desk and sat down. He saw the nameplate on the desk. JON Mostou, it read. The name of the man in charge of Decaferon Enterprises.
The chair swiveled around to face Frank. Staring Frank straight in the eye, with a slight grin on his face, was Jon Mostou, the head of the company. Mostou motioned for the man in the suit to leave. He then turned to Frank, who was trying to loosen the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt.
"So...", Mostou began, still with a grin on his face. "So," he repeated, "Frank Cassidy. Employee of this company for 12 years. The most brilliant computer geek we have. Founder of the D chip. And, also, the man who almost destroyed me and everything that I and everyone else here have worked to attain!"
"But, boss"... Frank began, but was immediately cut off by Mostou, who stood up.
"But Boss", he said in a mock tone. "But boss this. The fact is, Frank, you screwed up last Thursday. We nearly got caught. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Frank swallowed hard. "I-I-I didn't mean to-you know I didn't-the gun just went off-"
Mostou cut him off again. "Oh, shut up. Brad has dealed with the problem, and we're good to go again. And this time, you aren't on duty. I'm not gonna fire you today, because I don't want to. You're too valuable. Now get going- I'm giving you the day off. You are excused."
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to be all right. Due to Mostou-and everyone else associated with him- he had feared for the worse. He got up, shook his bosses hand, and walked out of the room with a huge smile plastered on his face. Once Frank had left, Mostou sat back down. He too had a huge smile plastered on his face. "You're a liability, Frank... and I've got other business to take care of today", he muttered. He then spun his chair around to look out of the window.
A few dozen feet down, Frank Cassidy walked out of the main entrance of Decaferon Enterprises, still wearing a big smile. He walked over to his green Kuruma. Then paused and looked back up at the room that he was just in. He opened the door, got in his car, and started the engine.
This would be the last thing that Frank would ever remember. Three seconds later, the Kuruma, with Frank in it, blew up. Pedestrians rushed to the scene to see what happened.
Back up at Decaferon Enterprises, all was well. Not one person said a word. They just went about their business as usual. And somewhere, on the top floor, there was Jonathan Mostou, smiling and laughing at his deeds. Yes, this is what happens when you've betrayed the RAS, known to every two-bit crook and SPANK pusher in the city as the most ruthless company around.
CHAPTER ONE
"Crap!" Kyle Lewis burst to his feet, trying to wipe the coffee he just spilled on his lap off. Everybody else at Greasy Joe's Cafe turned and stared. Kyle stared at each and every one of them until they all turned back to their business. Kyle turned and sat back down, looking across the table at the man he was having breakfast with. It was Brad Katsopolis.
"Good one", Katsopolis said. He took a sip of coffee and put the cup back down. "Now I belive that's how it's properly done."
"Ah, shut up", Lewis said. "It wasn't my fault. You surprised me." He chuckled. "Although the fact that Frank Cassidy is dead isn't that surprising. How'd you know about it?"
"Simple", Brad said calmly, going back to his newspaper. "I had something to do with it."
Once again, Kyle Lewis dropped a cup of coffee on his lap and jolted up to his feet. "WHAT?!" he shrieked.
Katsopolis got to his feet and pulled Lewis out of the staring cafe. Once outside, he motioned for Lewis to enter Brad's new '01 Cheeta. Kyle reluctantly got into the car. Brad backed out of the driveway and sped off down the street.
"W-what happened?" Kyle muttered. "What're you talking about?" He still had a look of shock on his face.
"It's quite simple", Brad said, swiping a fly off of his black trench coat. "I'm a high ranked member of the RAS."
"WHAT?!" Kyle once again yelled, looking at Brad.
"You really have got to knock that 'what thing off. But yes, I am. I use all my connections with Katsopolis Inc.. to help fund the thing. As you may know, we deal with assassanations, rampages, and secret agent missions." Brad looked over at Kyle. "Oh, get off it. We don't kill innocent people. If we HAVE to kill somebody, then it's because they deserve it. And Frank Cassidy definately deserved it."
"Yeah, well- I know that- but- but what did he d-do"? Kyle asked, still quite shaken.
Brad, visibly calm and cool, responded. "He screwed up. You see, last Thursday, we sent three men into Beleville park to try and attempt the assassanation of Jefferey Faulkner, that little rodent. Frank was one of them. They got into Faulkners hideout and held him up. Frank stood guard outside. We have reason to think that he was going to betray us that night because when he saw a cop coming, he fired his gun five times in the air. The cop heard it and rushed to the scene, and the two guys with Frank got into a shootout with the cop, and got killed. Frank ran away, and so did Jefferey. Because of Frank, we missed Faulkner, lost two men, and almost got arrested."
Kyle stared at him. "But- were you the one who- who killed him?"
"No. That wasn't me. I don't run the RAS. That job goes to one man- Jon Mostou. You know him?" Kyle nodded. "Yeah, well all the employees of his company- who d'you think they are? Regular business men? No. They're agents. Assassains. Terrorists. All for the RAS. They're just in disguise. They're brillaint men, though- they develop new things everyday- but their our men. And Jon- when he wants someone dead, they are. And he wanted Frank dead. And so did everybody else. He tried- and was going to try again- to betray us."
Kyle stared at him in disgust. "Does your 'Katsopolis Inc..' have any of these guys?"
"Some of them. Oh, here we are." Brad pulled into the gated doorway of the Bitchin Dog Food Factory and parked the car. The two got out and entered the factory, which Kyle owned and also lived in. Kyle turned the light on. "What does this have to do with me?" he inquired, crashing onto the couch.
"Simple" Brad said. "I've got a job for you. The money's great- $3,000,000 per job. It's also fun. All you have to do is this- you own the bus station, don't you?"
"Well- well yeah."
"Yeah, well this is what you do. Get one of your buses and use it to barricade an exit near China Town. Get out, run on top of your bus and kill every damn Triad member you see. They've owed us money for too long."
Kyle laughed. "Yeah, right. And how am I going to do that?" Brad pulled something out from his behind back. It was an M16 Auto Rifle.
"With this", he said, chuckling. "Our army will back you up. The reason we're asking you to do this is because Jon thinks you'll be a 'great asset to our organization.' Some shit like that. Anyway, this is a test. You pull it off- you're made. We'll call you when we're ready."
Kyle stood up with a stone faced look. "For that money- I'll do it." He shook Brad's hand and Brad left. After Brad had left Kyle started jumping up and down with joy. With that type of money, he could finally afford to make something great out of himself. No more stupid bus service that only earned him the hatred of most of his passengers, who thought he drove too slow. No more manufacturing his own cheap Dog food to make ends meet.
Katsopolis entered his Cheeta. He sighed. Another person- who has nothing to do with anything illegal, and probably never would have- if not for the fact that Jon thought that he'd be a "valuable asset". Don't make the same mistake I made, he thought to himself as he sped off to his beach mansion.