TRENT:
HIS WORST DAY:
The Columbian's M-16s explode into repetitious fireballs tearing towards the rainy sky near Trent. 8-ball peels off making a clean getaway with no problems. Trent on the other hand, quickly rises to his feet the smooth metal gives way underneath him, the rain swelling under the soles of his shoes.
His face slams onto the rigged roof of the industrial building, his feet clanging against it as it takes him down like a waterfall. He grabs constantly trying to pull himself up like a salmon swimming up stream. The world seems to flow around him as the fear hits him, his fingers wrap around the roof's edge, he holds on tight but it's not enough, his muscles loosten and he plummets, his right knee slamming into the concrete.
"FUCK!" He pulls his gun out, sure that he's going to need it. A Columbian Cartel comes around the corner and he instantly points the gun at him putting a bullet in his chest, the Cartel falls down screaming in pain.
'Fuck this shit.' he thinks to himself, 'Augustus Armando can die another day.' he limps towards a brown Manana and gets inside, he hotwires it and quickly drives away before anything else happens.
As he approaches the subway station he realizes that the Manana is almost out of fuel. He pulls it to a halt and goes down into the subway. Decending into the depths of the damp tunnel. He'd have to make it back to Tony's house by subway car.
The train drops him off in the deja vu subway station, he could barely tell that he was in a different area. He was now in Shoreside Vale, the so-called rich and prosperous part of Liberty - if there is such a thing. He limps out of the subway car, his soaking wet overcoat dripping on the floor beneath his feet.
His head is down as he walks out of the car, he looks up and is terrified, six or seven Red Jacks, all carying Uzis and Colt forty-fives. 'I'm fucked! I'm fucked!' is the only thing that repetitiously runs through his head. He actually tries to walk past them but it doesn't work, a fist slams into his chest.
"Where the fuck you think you're goin' nigga'!"
Trent cowers backwards falling back on his bad knee. One of the Red Jacks shoves through a crowd of his own people and fires a shotgun blast in the air hitting one of the subway lights. Then he pumps the slide of the gun, the shell falls to the ground. The clanking sound of the shell-casing and the broken flickering florecent-light was enough to nausiate Trent, he thought he'd be dead any minute.
He stays low, trying to sprint his way out of this situation, the train has taken off and Trent runs through the darkened tunnel, knowing that the thugs are just around the corner. He takes his Colt forty-five and from his coat and his Desert Eagle from his belt, he keeps the Eagle in his left hand the Colt in his right.
He rounds the corner putting a bullet in the head of three Red Jacks, as he does he sees a man in a leather Jacket decend down the steps of the subway holding an AK-forty seven, blasting like a 'fucking madman!' He prays that it's Fido.
"Max... Max Payne? That you?" Now answer, "FIDO! Yes man," the firing has stopped no more gunfire, "I'm in some serious shit, you still got your AK?"
When he asks the question, somemore gunfire goes off, and then he sees it, an AK goes flying through the air, soaring high, it slams onto the subway tracks below. He runs over to it, sliding it up off the ground, he pulls the trigger; 'CLICK!' 'FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!' Trent screams at his luck, Fido wasn't giving him an AK to use, Fido was simply trying to explain that his was out of bullets.
"8-ball! You there?"
"I'm here my brotha'!"
"How the fuck'dya guys get here so fast?"
"Everyone took the subway man - before you did, it was the fastest way back."
"Who else is there?"
"No one, the're all back at Tony's."
"How many Red Jacks are left?"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! You fuckin' pussies get all goddamn lovy dovy on your time, right now mothafucka' we got bidness to attend to!" One of the Red Jacks fearing for his life, pretending he doesn't by acting angry. All he was really trying to do was keep 8-ball from giving Trent the information he had asked about, this is solidified when 8-ball procedes to answer and loud gunfire keeps Trent from hearing.
The gunfire stops, "8-ball? Fido?"
"Yeah?"
"On three we come out shootin'! One!"
Trent ducks low, using the tracks as the ground and the tile floor as cover, his arms at the same level as the Jacks' feet. There was no point in comming out on three, as he looked at it, that would be stupid, why let the Red Jacks be prepared for a full on attack, he had jumped on 'one' 8-ball had obviously understood and did the same:
While Trent was blasting Red Jacks full of holes, he spots one of them trying to sneak up on 8-ball around the corner, 8-ball instead surprises him, by swirling around and putting a hole in his head. "Motherfucker."
Trent ducks down, the gunfight was getting bloody, like rivers of Red Jacks' blood would run through Liberty City, and Trent, 8-ball, and Fido, remained unscarred. Streams of blood did in fact run down the steps of the subway, smeared on walls and places you wouldn't believe, gunfights in real life, seemed much more bloody than the ones in the movies.
Trent throw his Colt at one of the Red Jacks, it burst through the subway like a fireball, the empty gun slams hard into a Red Jack's face. Trent ducks back down, he can't help it he starts cracking up, giggling to himself, it was just so damn funny to see that tough guy go down from a flying gun. It was the kind of thing where you watch a comedy where something really stupid; that causes someone else pain; looks so funny that you can't resist the urge to laugh happens.
As he's laughing, the darkness of the flashes to dark briefly; he can't see, then it goes back to normal - again, briefly, but this time he spots something, a Red Jack, has stumbled upon his hiding place looking down at him. Trent points his gun up, dangerously close to his chin and fires five shots. As he does blood falls on his head like falling rain, but unlike rain warm and thick.
Trent wipes the blood off of his face with the sleave of his trenchcoat, he hears the rolling of an oncoming train, he watches the light come towards him, and the train comes on five times faster than he thought it would have. He jumps from his former hiding place, sliding across the bloody tile, he fires his gun, hitting a Red Jack in the knee caps then finally in the chest.
A stray bullet, lands directly in the heart of a young girl, nineteen or so. Trent, sees this and gets to his feet, a war is going on around him, and he's focusing on a single casualty. He thinks he shouldn't, he thinks it'll get him killed, he thinks this is crazy, but he does it anyway. He steps up to her and stands over her, as she doesn't even have the strength to ask for help. He watches the girl trying to breathe, he'd seen people go down before, innocent people, but he never cared before, 'what had changed?'
Staring at her, she didn't remind him of Sam, for some reason unknown to him, she reminded him of his mother, she didn't look anything like her, she looked nothing like her, maybe it was the flickering light, but... He felt a cold chill down his spine, the dying girl in front of him, he gets a flash of her getting shot with his gun. Then another flash of his mother when she was in her younger years. The images keep coming the florecent light aiding his nausia, he close his eyes and trys to shake the images out of his head, but it didn't work.
Nothing would work, he takes one last look at her, then falls to his knees spewing puke all over the tile floor. He cowers, and for the first time in he criminal career, he's choked, he feels weak, maybe he's just changed, but at the moment he feel like he's reached the peak of his career.
"When you can't take it anymore - get out!" That's what Tony had said to him once, he was sure he would, but 8-ball and Fido were his friends. He wasn't going to try and get them to leave, and he wasn't about to leave without seeing them, either leave themselves - or get killed.
The gunfire had stopped, and the war had ended, since he was still alive, he knew which side was undoubtedly the victor. The two men stand over him with guns, seeing him crouched down on his knees in front of a puddle of his own vomit, was the last thing he wanted 8-ball and Fido to witness.
"Oh shit..." 8-ball says crouching down next to the girl, "she's not good man." 8-ball's voice is compassionate, but 8-ball just saw her as another one of those people who gets caught up in gunfire.
Fido raises his gun and puts a bullet through the middle of her four head, her blood exploding onto the ground.
"Motherfucker!" Trent grabs Fido slamming him into the subway wall, he hits him in the face with his Desert Eagle. A tiny streak of Fido's blood makes a line on the wall behind him. Fido looses his temper and kicks Trent directly in the testicles. He goes down, screaming.
"Hey! HEY!" 8-ball says holding up his hands, "You gotta' listen to somethin' Trent, she was gonna' die! Now my man Fido here just put her out of her fuckin' misery--"
"You don't know that!"
"Fuck I don't. You knew she was too, you just didn't have the balls to do somethin' about it! Now Fido did her ass a favor, and you attacked him for it, I'd kick your ass too."
Fido reaches a hand down to help Trent off the ground, Fido wipes blood off of his mouth, and Trent holds his crotch. The three of them leave the bloody scene silently but victoriously.
HIS WORST DAY CONTINUED...:
Fido 8-ball and Trent sit in a Mafia Sentinal. Trent keeps replaying the incident at the subway station in his head. They're driving back to Tony's place, the suburban home in Shoreside Vale.
A bullet goes flying through 8-ball's window shattered glass hitting both him, and Fido in the face, it clears them both going through the other window next to Fido. The car is next to them, the gunmen in the passenger seat. Trent gets out of the back, without closing his door. He takes his Desert Eagle out and points it at the driver.
"Put your FUCKIN' HANDS UP!" the man doesn't react, "Put em' up or I swear to God I'll blow your fuckin' head off!" He was angry and serious, maybe he was back to normal. The man does as he's told.
This way it would be easier to see who ordered the hit, he could 'persuade' them. The driver swerves around, pointing and MP5 at Trent's gut. Trent jerks backward in fear, his gun going off hitting the man in the eye. He falls down slowly, dead. The passenger gets out from the driver's side and points a gun up at him. The arms are skinny feminine.
Trent hopes for the best, wanting to find out which of the poweful crime leaders ordered the hit on the unbeatable trio. "Let me see your fuckin' hands!"
The woman doesn't get out of the car, she raises her hands with the gun dangling, there's a long pause. Then the woman speaks.
"Trent?..." He can't believe it, all of a sudden he does what the woman had done just seconds before, he rocognizes her voice.
"Oh my god! He tosses his gun on the ground. "Marilyne!"
8-ball comes around the other side of the car where Fido and he had been gaurding themselves. "What the hell is this?" 8-ball says looking at them both unarmed and unharmed. "Who's she?"
"8-ball, Fido, this is Marilyne my sister-in-law."
8-ball blinks several times bringing his head forward, "...Y..Your sister-in-law? Stop me if I'm mistaken here, but last time I checked, if you have a sister-in-law that means you have a brother."
"Yeah..." Trent says as if that's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said to him.
"You never told me you had a brother. What'dya do just hide every member of your family from everyone."
"Yeah well, my family has some secrets. Besides... keeps em' safe. - Marilyne, what the fuck are you doin' here? And why're you tryin' to kill me!"
"They never gave me a name. They gave me his picture," she says pointing to Fido, "They said that two others would be with him, one black, the other an Italian, wearing an overcoat. I took the job.
"Who's they?"
"Triad's." She says shrugging, her dark hair dangling down her shoulders. Trent hadn't seen her in awhile, her hair was as dark and as long as Agostino's, she had the face of an angel and the body of a goddess. She wore a tight fitting pink shirt, and baggy, sagging, green cargo pants reminicent of Fido's. Her belt seemingly cliped on one side of her hip, dangling down on the other side. It was a wonder how her pants were worn that way, and it was a mystery how her pants stayed up at all.
He felt a real sisterly affection for her, his brother Gino was a small-time crook - supposedly, the rumor had spread that he was the biggest leader to ever live. The young blonde haired mastermind was very similar to the story of Vinnie Gognitti.
"Where's Gino?"
"Gino's back home, he sent me to do some jobs down here in Liberty."
"Okay... there's something I want you to do..."
"Anything! I swear to god."
"I want you to go to San Fierra, San Andreas, and wait for me. Call my brother and tell him to go down there with you. When I've gotten a few things straightened out, I'll meet you and Gino there 'kay."
She nods.
"Now I don't know how long it's going to take me, but eventually I'll see you there. Take this money..." He takes out a wad of cash placing in her hand, "and get the fuck out of here." She does. Trent wasn't sure what he was doing. He did need to straighten things out, he had this idea that if he was still crime frenzied San Andreas would be a good place to hit next, or if he couldn't handle it anymore that San Fierra would be a good place to start again.
Marilyne turns back to Trent, "Trent?"
"What?"
"Let me do you a favor?"
"What?"
"I can take out the bastard that tried to get you killed."
"That's not a bad fuckin' idea," he says getting into the Sentinal and lighting a cigarette, "but once your done, you get on the first goddamn flight out of here... By the way... Who'd I kill?"
"He's not really that important, it's sad, but don't worry about it."
For some reason he doesn't. "Okay I'll see you in SA."
"Okay, you too."
8-ball gets into the car, "What the fuck was that all about?"
"Just drive the car 8-ball, if you'd listened you'd realize that it wasn't even that big a deal."
"Her tryin' to ice my ass may not be a big deal to you, but it's a big fuckin' deal to me."
"Yeah sure."
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
"What is it?" Trent whispers.
The next few sentences are speedy frantic, a puzzle peice of words.
"Cop man, he's comin' over."
"Well - what'dya wanna' do? I mean..."
"You wanna' stay here, it's just the broken tail-light, probably."
"We got GUNS man!"
"He don't fuckin' know that, hide 'em!"
"There's a fuckin' dead body in on the ground next to us!"
"SHIT!" 8-ball brings his foot down on the gas hard, crashing it to the floor. The car bursts off blazing tires. BLLLAAAAMMM. Two cars collide with the force of a train wreck demolishing each other twirling into an exploding mass of slicing metal debris. Trent's head jolts forward slamming into his seat. He screams in pain as the car comes to a halt. His neck was almost snapped from impact, luckily it was just enough for his injuries to be minor, any faster he would have been dead. Fido stumbles out of the car onto the sidewalk. Trent can't see 8-ball.
He turns his head around the corner to check on him, he takes off his seatbelt awkwardly, leaning forward stretching his head around 8-ball's seat. 8-ball is face down, blood dripping off the dashboard, tiny pieces of glass surrounding his face.
"8-ball..." he says with a familiar urge to fall asleep, "8-ball!" he says it loud enough for him to hear.
Suddenly 8-balls head snaps up off the dashboard, like he's had a bad dream, "FUCK!"
"8-ball?"
8-ball wipes blood off of his face, "How long have I been out."
"A minute, somewhere around there..."
"Seems like it's been a fuckin' year... 8-ball shifts once in his seat uncomofortably, "Where's Fido?"
"He ran off. - I don't know."
"Goddamn it!" Suddenly 8-ball's head lifts up, following something moving, coming towards his door. "Holy shit!"
"What? What the fuck is it?"
"D-Ice."
8-ball's door swings open and a hand come through grabbing him, yanking him out of the car. "Come on motherfucker! You think you can hit me!"
Trent can barely make out the shaky image of D-Ice stomping on 8-ball, his view wasn't too good. He takes out his Desert Eagle. And gets out of the car.
"Ice?!" Trent finally gets a good look a D-Ice. Ice is a black guy with what looks like the same build as Trent, actually D-Ice is much much stronger than Trent. His baggy clothes hide is true strength from view. As 8-ball said, he didn't wear the Red Jacks' colors, he simply wore a white T-shirt and Blue jeans. He also wore a gold necklace that had a very small pendant with the inscription 'Ice' written in Platinum. D-Ice had larger curls then most black men, but they were natural, he also had a large beard and mustache, it didn't make him look old, he looked very young, but it was Trent's impression that D-Ice would look much different than he did.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Fuck you."
The pairing of these two words was something that D-Ice wasn't expecting, what Trent was foolishly unexpecting was D-Ice's reaction.
'BAM!' D-Ice puts a bullet directly in Trent's shoulder, the force knocks him to the ground.
"There motherfucker! Fuck you! Fuck YOU!! Fuckin' bitch..."
"Agg. Fuck..." Trent lay on the ground, not helpless, but feeling very much so. All of a sudden as D-Ice turns around to attack Trent, I spikey haired leather wearing pale man, slams a brick into the back of D-Ice's head. D-Ice is knocked forward the front of his face smashing into the cracked side winshield of the Sentinal. This causes him to fall backwards in an even more awkward position.
The man in leather procedes to drage D-Ice away. While he's doing this Trent can't help but wonder where in the fuck that stupid cop is.
"Hey... Hey... HEY!..... FREAK!? What the fuck're you doin'!"
The man comes forward getting his pale face right in front of Trent's. "He's comin' home with me. But he ain't the only one, you guys killed my best friend."
"What the fuck are you talkin' abou-?"
The brick comes down on Trent's face. He's not knocked out, but he screams, constantly. He shuts his eyes and screams for hours. He can feel the man lift him awkwardly into a van, but still he barely opens his eyes through the entire thing, his gun missing. Now he really is helpless. As the driving begins, he can't think of anything better to do but sleep.
He wakes up as he's being tied to a chair. This seemed very similar to a story 8-ball told him about a chainsaw incident. The window in the apartment is wide open, the falling rain looked to Trent like dropping needles falling all around them. This image helps rise the fear presented in Trent's situation, it wasn't his intention but the cold falling needles out side, were the very thing that helped accelerate his fear.
"Hello LADIES! The guy with the spikey hair comes out of nowhere. Trent notices that his eyes are a very, very, very, very bright blue. It fit with his personality; cold...
"You know why I brought you here? Probably not. Do you watch the news?"
He removes the gag from Trent's mouth, "I'm a criminal."
"So you've heard of me?"
"No."
"You heard about the 'New Harwood Butcher?'"
"Are you telling me - that you - are - the 'New Harwood Butcher'? This - is what you - are telling me?"
That's right.
"The 'New Harwood Butcher kills women!"
"I never really, looked at it that way but you're right, I did. Blonde women - young - blonde women. I loved all of them..."
In this exact moment Trent realizes he doesn't know what he's dealing with.
"But see... what's your name?"
"Trent..."
"See, Trent, I have a personal vendetta with you. Both you are and this guy here, are my new guinee pigs for my little test. I'm trying to see if.......... Killing you will be as much fun as slaughtering all these bitches in here."
Trent looks around, everything in his house except the wooden drawers are white, blood is everywhere. The room doesn't look secret or gaurded whatsoever. "How the fuck do you get away with this."
"All the people who live in this apartment are junkies, or are too afraid to go to anyone. This my friend, is a free vestige of privacy, no distractions, no hiding. You killed my best friend, he was like a brother to me!"
"Who the fuck are you talkin' about!"
"JEFF! DON'T fuckin' DO this! I saw the guy in the leather jacket blow him away. I saw him okay!?" He waves a six-inch knife in the air the whole time. "I saw him, he got away this time, but next time... Heh..heh next time I'll slaughter that motherfucker like I'm Charles Manson. "Now..."
The next few minutes are so violent and frantic that yelling is constantly happening. Three men yelling at the same time for different reasons.
"... I don't really like guns. I usually like to use stuff that burns, and stuff that cuts," he places a large knife almost the size of a sword into burning charcoal. "but when I get burning stuff that cuts... Mmm, now that's satisfying."
"You can't do this! You sick motherFUCKER!"
"I think I'll take care of your buddy here first, because - for you - I want to make it as painful - even emotionally... as I can. So let's go to work..." he takes a knife, the one that isn't in the charcoal and places it on D-Ice's forearm. Trent screams at him to stop, the unconsciouss D-Ice doesn't awake from his slumber. "Now, see, I have to try to be careful, because if I'm not carefull, doing this could kille our friend here and I don't want that. It's like peeling the skin off an apple."
He takes the first chunk of flesh from D-Ice's arm. He snaps awake, screaming at the top of his lungs, tied very disturbingly, to an easy chair. "YES! I love that fuckin' sound! He takes the gag off of D-Ice's mouth and lets him scream in pain. He goes over to his CD player and starts to play incredibly loud Heavy Metal music. "How do you like that HUH!?" He says screaming wildly, smiling as he rips another piece of flesh from D-Ice's forearm. "Yeah motherfucker! You don't get to hear that everyday do ya' I'm gonna' make you over buddy, you're gonna' look good as NEW!" He again turns the music up louder.
"Stop it you fuck! Fuck you pussy!"
The freak completely ignores Trent's constant raging for him to stop, he continues for almost a half an hour peeling off the flesh from D-Ice's forearm. Finally he finishes dropping the knife on the ground. He spits blood on the ground, "Blecckk! I fuckin' hate blood!" he hits D-Ice in the face, as if it was his fault for getting blood on him. "Fucker! Look what you did!" The whole time as unusual as it was, the freak seemed so serious about everything he said, or did.
"Heres where the fun REALLY begins!" he steps over to the charcoal with the sword inside.
Trent's hand comes forward, grabbing the handle of the sword. The rope had been wrapped around Trent's wrists, his watch was on his wrist and loose enough to come off too. He just slid it off giving him one free hand. The other hand however was tied to the little wooden pillar-like things that made up the back of the chair. The rope was more like a string, but it was strong.
He takes the flaming sword and slices the leather freak's chest. Then he quickly brings the firy sword down on the string binding his feet. As the leather freak comes towards him, he takes his left hand swinging the chair through the air. The chair leg smack violently into the freak's face. Tren could swear he saw a tooth fly out. The chair is heavy though, and gravity yanks hard on Trent's wrist as the chair lands, sliding across the floor. It comes close to pulling his hand out of the socket. He swings the knife again cutting the string from the chair and his own wrist. Trent slices downward, a perfect cut, from the top of his chest to the bottom of his torso. Trent had no idea that it would, but it made a crucifix on the freaks chest.
"What's your fuckin' name freak?" Trent asks him, in a kind of relieved way.
"Kory."
"Well freak," he says, as if Kory'd said that freak was his name, "Have fun." Trent walks over to the charcoal still holding the sword, he kicks the griller onto Kory, burning embers fall on him like the rain outside. Red dots rise up, burning ashes, orange, yellow, and red. "Did that burn?" he says it with a sincerety that makes his sarcasm oscar worthy. "I'm sorry freak, I didn't know that would hurt you so bad!"
Trent's demeanor completely changes, "You know what?" he waves the sword at Kory acting jittery and energetic, "You like to SKIN people! You like skinning the flesh from peoples' forearms! How come I didn't see it before? I want to see, what this motherfucker, is going to-do-to-you!"
He swings the sword with great power releasing D-Ice from his prison, it doesn't seem like he's careful anytime he swings the sword, but neither him nor did D-Ice even get the slightest cut. D-Ice is in so much pain and so angry at the same time, that Trent can tell, that D-Ice doesn't know what to do.
"You gotta' gun!?" D-Ice finally asks him, in an overwhelming display of mind over matter.
Trent shakes his head 'no.'
"I got my nine... in my right pocket, can you get it for me?"
Trent looks at Kory burning, and bleeding, a fire hadn't started yet. "Sure..." Trent walks over to D-Ice's right side, and with his left hand removes D-Ices nine millemeter. He puts the gun in D-Ices left hand.
"Thank you." The gun immediately fires a shell from the chamber, and Kory's kneecap pops, he holds his knee in pain blood spewing from it. "I'm going to shoot, every bullet I have from this gun, in a non-fatal place on your body, and if you aren't dead yet. I'm gonna beat you harder and faster than a hurricane could rip down a poor farmers house. Trent..."
"Yeah..."
"Anything, ANYTHING... You fuckin' want... you come to me."
"Only if I can watch you can this fuckin' goth..."
"Heh... Deal... You gotta' cellphone?"
Trent hands D-Ice his cellphone and watches him dial the numbers awkwardly with his wrong hand. Then he places the phone to his ear, "B.J.... I'm hurt real bad man, I need you to send someone down here right away..."
Trent watches D-Ice go through all the mysteries about where they are, then he gives B.J. the address, "yeah, tell them to send somebody here quick. I'm bleeding like crazy. And I'm about to do something that will get my heart goin'." He hands Trent his phone then empties all of his bullets into Kory's feet, hands, shoulders, everywhere that was less than fatal, as he said he would do. He runs out of bullets, Trent watches Kory scream as D-Ice bashes his head in with the butt of his gun. After five hits, the building starts to burn. D-Ice continues but Trent slowly walks out. Following a trail of blood down the hallway and the steps that D-Ice'd left earlier.
It was dark out now, and Trent just wanted to see his babygirl, he was relieved that the worst day of his life, would not be his last.