TRENT & 8-BALL

Trent looks out the window of the blue Liberty City transport bus. Him and his cellmate 8-ball were to be taken with a bus load of prisoners to Liberty City Park, to begin the new season of the psychotic hit reality show Liberty City Survivor.

The Show is available to the entire city, most people believe that Liberty City Survivor is nothing more than a very clever set up of actors working with prisoners to make a very violent and realistic fake reality show that would cater to the needs of a blood thirsty city, a total fake, but it wasn't. Liberty City Survivor was one hundred percent real no matter what anyone else thought. Liberty was crooked enough to pass it off without anyone doing anything, besides who would believe they were watching real people die on a hyped up reality show.

The rain was getting stronger, Trent realized that the news had said it would rain constantly for days. He liked the weather, but not as much as 8-ball. 8-ball actually believed that rain brought him good luck. He said he always had his best days when it rained. Trent remembered that 8-ball had told him earlier he had his worst days when it rained, so which one is it? 8-ball had told him it was both, but he had remained up-beat about their current situation, until now.

"Hey Trent, they going to have us kill each other?"

"No 8-ball I don't think so." he says, then turns his attention back out the window as they begin to stop.

"What if they do?"

"They won't, they can't. It's your decision right? Don't you get it? This is a free ticket. These motherfuckers are going to hand us guns, we don't have to kill each other. We can blast our way out of there. I've watched this show at least three times, once I saw two guys escape without even using guns. These dumb fucks, don't get it. They don't even give out a prize for this, and even if the prize for this was total immunity from everyone, I'd still escape cuz' I am not going to fuckin' kill you. Get it?"

"Yeah... I think I see what you're saying. Yeah, I know a guy down in Portland too, he can help us. He's strapped to the fuckin' teeth, there's no way in hell they'll take us back to prison. Then I can find you a job somewhere. This just might fucking work.

"Damn right it will, this is going to be one of those good days 8-ball-man."

They put their fists together as the bus comes to a stop. They stand up, Trent looks out the window, the grass is so green, 'so misleading' he thinks to himself, it's the scene of constant murders yet it could be turned into the garden of Eden.

A gaurd gets up from the very back of the bus, Trent and 8-ball were sitting in the back, Trent is constantly jabbed in the back by the guard's shotgun.

"Move you fucking pussies!"

Trent leans forward and talks quietly to 8-ball, who's chained to him, "What about the pig?"

"Who porky? Kill his ass too, what the fuck do you think, the minute they give us guns it's wild west time."

The guard gets suspicious of the two of them talking, he spits his chewing tobacco onto Trent's back. "Quit your fucking love making. Faggots."

Trent shows great will as he resists the urge to deck the prison guard. The two of them get off the bus and get in a shoulder-to-shoulder line. A man comes around unlocking all the handcuffs. Trent looks around, he can see guns with no bullets being handed to all the prisoners.

"Hey 8-ball-man, they hand you guns then they give you bullets. Getting out of here's going to be harder, there'll be about ninety eight prisoners who want to blow us away."

"That was going to happen anyway. We'll just have to hope."

"Would you like to be chained together?" A voice comes from in front of Trent were he looks for the first time. A skinny man is holding a clip board, behind him is a man with a huge crate full of ammo and another man with a crate with handcuffs.

"Excuse me?"

"You can be chained together as a team. If you do so you get double the ammo but only one gun. The purpose of this is for one to be a driver and another to be a shooter. We cuff you together, it's popular among cellmates because they can win the team cup without having to 'finish' each other."

"Uh, yeah sure..." Trent says unsure, looking at 8-ball who doesn't seem to mind the idea at all.

Trent had decided to go for it because he thought there was a chance that it would somehow work to their advantage. He was right, people in teams were givin they're ammo first because of the double ammo rule. A loop hole that gave him and 8-ball the upper-hand.

8-ball looks into the sky letting the rain fall on his face, "Man, I fucking love Liberty weather." at the same time Trent cocks his Berretta and smiles at the prison gaurd who'd spit on him.

"Smile motherfucker. This's your head-shot"

Trent unloads five bullets into the gaurds head splattering his red brain matter across the blue bus. He makes a break for it. Behind him and 8-ball, the crowd of prisoners explodes into a rampage, destroying T.V. workers for ammunition. They had panicked thinking the show had started.

Trent and 8-ball run blindly through the crowd. A Triad jumps in front of Trent and points a shotgun at him. Without even stopping Trent guns him down.

"Holy shit how many fuckin' times did you shoot him?"

"Six. I think..."

"Holy shit..."

A line of fire shoots through mid-air narrowly missing 8-ball's back. He doesn't turn around but he he hears the nearby screaming of Chinese Triads.

"...I think that guy you shot was important."

"What makes you say that?" Trent says turning his head, he spots three Triads all chained together. They have a flamethrower and three tanks of fuel. "Oh my god..."

The two of them pick up the pace as they reach the end of the park. It leads them to a busy metropolitan street, a lot of people and activity. BLAM! BLAM! 8-ball is shocked as Trent puts two in a cops head.

"Hey...Why'd... Why'd you do......that?" 8-ball finishes his question running out of breath.

"Why...do you think?" Trent says back to him. "He was...there...to...stop...us!"

The two of them finally stop in front of an ambulance, the two paramedics are outside the van smoking cigarettes. Fido and 8-ball sit for a second and catch their breath.

The Triads are far away, but gaining. Trent looks at the smoking paramedic. He's annoyed. How's he supposed to catch his breath with some guy smoking standing next to him?

"Hey buddy, don't you have a job to do or something?" Trent asks one of them.

"Yeah we get calls all the time, it's better to just ignore them for now though. We won't have to worry once the guy's dead." The paramedic smiles like an idiot. "This town is full of people dying, it's better if I just let someone else get them. I get paid 'til they fire me... and they-won't-fire-me..."

Trent realizes the guy acts stoned. He jams the gun under the paramedic's chin.

"Well now you'll have an excuse to give 'm."

The three Triad's are getting closer. Trent charges forward a few step and fires two shots. The gun empties, and the clip drops autimatically to the ground. The stoned paramedic waves at 8-ball and Trent as they get in the Ambulance. Trent drives and 8-ball sits next to him.

"Jesus Christ man... I think that ambulance-guy back there was on fuckin' spank!"

"Yeah, whatever man -- Hey, what the hell are you doing? My Dog's place is that way."

"I know. I know where Portland is man, I'm trying to lose them."

8-ball leans out the window, as he does the chains pull on Trent's wrists, throwing him off balance. 8-ball can see that the three Traids are following them in a green Blista. He sits back down in his seat and reaches his hand out to Trent.

"Hand me the nine..." Trent hands 8-ball the gun. He loads another clip and cocks a bullet into the chamber. 8-ball leans out the window and blasts an unstable amount of bullets into on coming traffic. The Ambulance swerves uncontrollably, 8-ball can't fire straight. The cuffs pull hard on Trents hands pressing into his flesh. The ambulance almost slams into two cars. 8-ball sits back down.

"Goddamn it Trent! Will you stop fuckin' swervin' around."

"Hey don't blame this on me, this shit fuckin' hurts!"

"I know it hurts. Hurts me too. Use your LEFT hand ONLY from now on."

Trent tries it, and the rest of the driving goes smoothly. 8-ball fires but stops before he runs out of bullets. He ducks his head back in and sits down.

"What'd you get?... Come on man what'd you get?"

"I got nothing, I'm a fucking terrible shot man. Maybe we should switch?"

"Hey, no! We can't switch what're you talking about? It's too fucking late now!"

"Shit your right. All I got was the windshield and the grill."

"Well that's somethin'... Fine okay whatever, fuck that for now. Go back there and see if you can find anything to pick these locks with. Don't go too far or it'll be hell on both of us."

8-ball reaches his hand around. He feels a small plastic box with tape on it, he wraps his fingers around it and sets it down on his lap. He looks at the tape amazed.

"What's it say?"

"Syringes. Fuck yeah! This'll work"

8-ball opens up the box and takes out a syringe. He takes the syringe out and puts it in the keyhole "I just hope they're strong enou-" the syringe breaks. "SHIT!" He takes out another one, again it snaps when he uses it. 8-ball begins to panic "FUCK MAN! One of these has GOT to work!" he sticks the third one in and it unlocks his left hand. "YES!"

"What? What? You get one?" Trent asks him glancing over.

"Yeah."

All of the rest of the handcuffs come off with no problems. 8-ball used the same syringe for every keyhole. He takes the needle and holds it up.

"This is my lucky needle..." he takes the needle and sticks it in his pocket.

Trent looks over at 8-ball laughing "Holy shit man, are you fucking keeping that?"

"Hell yeah. It unlocked all of these keyholes with no problems, it-has-GOT to be lucky!"

"8-ball man you are so luck obses-"

BAM! An explosion, a soaring barrage of jagged metal. The ambulance strikes the point where two walls connect together at a corner. They feel the heavy back of the truck lift into the air on impact, the car flips over slamming onto it's left side.

8-ball's shoulder hits the padded door of the ambulance and his head narrowly misses the windshield and the concrete beneath it.

Trent sleepily climbs out of the van, he looks to his right at the end of the van, behind it sits the Blista with a cracked windshield and a busted front end. They had apperently rammed the back of the ambulance, which helped to flip it over.

Trent slips and falls along the roof down to the concrete landing on shattered glass. 8-ball follows quickly behind going down the of the ambulance and sliding across the grill.

8-ball moves closer to Trent, "You okay?" 8-ball says wiping glass off his clothes.

"I should be asking you that. You broke my fall..."

"Yeah, well I'm okay. Holy shit!"

"What?... Come on man what is it?"

8-ball looks up at a large dirty sign that says Eddie's Auto Parts. Trent can't understand what the big deal is.

"This is the place?"

"What place?"

"Place where my dog lives man!"

"Oh yeah..."

The three Triads get out of the Blista struggling with their chains. 8-ball and Trent run for the garage.

"Take the Banshee this guy won't miss it!" 8-ball screams, pulling open the garage door part-way.

Trent is glad to be out of the rain, his clothes had started to get soaked. Trent looks at the Banshee, it's a convertible but the top is up.

"Pick the lock, then open my door from the other side." 8-ball gives Trent the orders.

"Why can't I just rip open the top?"

"You better be fuckin' joking man, if this guy sees you do that to his car he'll fucking kill you. Now pick the lock."

"Well jeez hold on," Trent demands trying to think, "I need something to pick the lock with you know."

8-ball holds up his 'lucky needle,' "Will this work?"

"No. How the hell is that supposed to work, it'll snap like a twig even if it is lucky..."

"Yeah I gues your right-"

"It doesn't matter," Trent says reaching into his pocket, "I got a knife anyway."

He pulls a very small and pathetic looking knife from his right-hand pocket. Gunshots startle the two of them, they both jump but quickly get a grip.

"Where'd you get that from?"

Trent laughs a little, "I stole it off the crazy ambulance guy. Okay you want me to pick it now-"

"No! Not yet..." 8-ball ducks, under the garage door and spots 'his dog' coming through the door with a shotgun.

Trent spots the man too, he's the embodiment of a freelance gangster. He wears no gang colors but has an all-around look like a criminal. He doesn't look Italian which doesn't link him to the mob, and the way he moves with a gun makes him look like he knows how to use one better than any other man on earth. He wears a black T-shirt under a black leather jacket, and green cargo pants with blue shoes. He kills the Triads with a look in his eyes like a raging maniac, all the time he never says a word.

Trent can't believe he's going to steal this man's car. "Man, why the fuck did you wait?" he asks 8-ball.

"Cuz I wanted to see the motherfucker work, that's why I waited."

"Let's get out of here?!" Trent says, not wanting to get his face blown of by a fucking maniac.

Trent puts the knife into the keyhole, attempting to unlock the door. The garage door swings up and in a split second a smoking shotgun barrel is centimeters away from his face. He falls on his ass, scared that in a few seconds his face would be the result of buckshot.

The man doesn't say anything at all again, his silence creeps him out a little. The man with the shotgun looks around the car. Trent wonders if this really is 8-ball's friend. 8-ball comes up from the left side of the car smiling.

"I TOLD you that motherfucka's RUTHLESS!"