Nick stood outside his house in Shoreside Vale, waiting. The rain poured down on him. Corinna had changed the locks since the last time he had been here. He rang the doorbell again. She was taking her time, probably knew it was him.
The door opened. A small child stood in the doorway. He was about six or seven years old and the resemblance to his father was striking. He looked like a smaller version of him. The only difference was his eyes, which were a pale green as opposed to Nicks dark brown.
"Hey Mike" Nick said. The child got out of the way as Nick walked in and closed the door behind him. Nick walked through the hallway to the living room, Mike followed behind him. Nick's eyes scanned the room, it was clean and well furnished. The television was on and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles video was playing. Not finding what he was looking for Nick turned back to his son.
"Where's your mother?" he asked. Mike glanced up at the ceiling to indicate upstairs. "Go get her" Nick ordered. The kid ran out of the room. Nick could hear him as he ran up the stairs.
Nick looked around the room again. It was too clean. Nothing here was his. He lit up a cigarette and let the smoke waft around the room, knowing how much Corinna would hate that.
He heard footsteps on the stairs again and his wife entered the room with Mike. She was a tall, dark-haired woman who had once been considered beautiful. Now she looked tired and old. The kid ran back to the sofa to watch his turtles video. For the millionth time, Nick thought. He didn't know how many times he had to yell at the kid to turn down his videos when he was trying to discuss business. He noticed the kid had all his turtle figurines positioned around him as though they were watching the video too.
Corinna noticed him looking at Mike. "They wont take him back at the school" she said "not while he refuses to speak." She glared at him, "its your fault, he would never have turned out like this if you weren't such a lousy father."
"He'll grow out of it" Nick said, taking a puff on his cigarette, daring Corinna to tell him to put it out.
"What are you doing here?" she asked after a few seconds of silence.
"I'm going away for a while"
"Of course" she interrupted. "So you came to say goodbye?" she asked sarcastically. "I don't know why you bother. You're never here anyway. You don't even live here anymore. How would we even know you were gone?"
"Don't give me this shit right now. I've heard it before."
"Where are you going? San Andreas?"
"Vice City."
Nick smiled when he saw the disgusted look on Corinna's face. "To work for him?" she spat.
"Who knows?" he goaded her. "Don't worry, I'll send you some money when I'm set up down there."
She folded her arms and looked away
Fun over, he got down to business. "I came by to pick up some of my stuff." He kept most of his things at his place in Trenton, but stored a few of his clothes and some of his more valuable possessions here.
"There's nothing of yours here"
"My clothes?"
"I threw them out"
"What about my guns?" He said, stepping forward, warning in his voice.
"They're up in the attic."
Nick headed to the top of the two story house. Even when he lived here it had been too big for the three of them. He wondered how Corinna had managed to keep it when the rest of the Forelli's were in such difficulty.
He opened the trapdoor to the attic and unfolded the ladder. He climbed up and looked around the dark space. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he began to look for his stuff. He pulled a box over into the light by the trapdoor, leaving trails of dust on the attic floor. He looked through several boxes before he found his. It was further back than the others and he had a feeling Corinna had placed it there on purpose. He sat down by the box and examined the contents.
He took out the guns one by one, checking them over for scratches, handling them lovingly. Most of them were spares but then he came to one that was special. His baby, his sniper rifle. He hadn't used this since that last hit he did for the Forellis, almost nine months ago. He held the gun up and looked through the view, reacquainting himself, with its weight, its feel. He had owned this a long time, took many lives with it, it had never failed him. It was a classic, customised to be up to the standard of newer models. He felt regret that he hadn't used it in so long. Tonight he would make up for that.