Lazlow sat in his chair, the microphone stared back, dauntingly. The green light indicating the mic had been on glared deafeningly, and he felt the cold chill of a tear slowly drip down his face. He drummed his fingers harshly against the desk, knowing the listeners on the other end were hearing nothing. He quickly slapped a new record on, and picked up his phone. Stricken with frustration and anger, he called the best person he knew. His face, covered with sweat and fear, caused his voice to tremble with each syllable.
"You'll pay me what!?" The voice on the other end shouted.
"Look, just make sure he doesn't talk, okay? I'm in enough trouble as it is."
"And where's this mush gonna be at?"
"There's two contact points,"
"The first is in front of the the Moist Palms Hotel."
"If he ain't there, then he'll be at the secondary point, the alley across from the tanker barge."
"You better hurry, they won't be there forever."
"Don't worry, as long as the money's good, love, we'll make a killing! By the way, I love your show!" The British voice hung up.
Lazlow hung the phone up, sat back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and began packing all the belongings of his in the room. He only had a short time before his superiors came to check on him inside the studio.
Catalina climbed into the driver side seat of the car, as Kevin got into the passenger side. With only two other hired guns to help them, it would be quite a match against the Cubans. Catalina leaned forward, and in a ridiculously sexual manner, popped the glove compartment open. She slowly reached inside and took out a Desert Eagle pistol, and smiled towards Kevin. The dented door of the Rumpo slammed shut, and the van quickly drove off. Just behind them, however, a bright pink Virgo followed closely behind.
"Like bloody clockwork." It's driver murmured.
The van cruised down the endless road, as Catalina explained the previous events to Kevin.
"You see, Glenn's little scheme would take the money from VRock's headquarters and would be taken to an abandoned docking bay in Vice Port."
"And so you and members of the Sharks stole the money from your other gang, the Cartel, right?"
"Right. You make it sound like it's bad to be working two sides."
"I just thought it was creative."
Catalina looked over at Kevin, smiling.
The van slid it's way down the streets, allowing the sun to beautifully shine it's rays off from it's surface. Up haead the vast network of cranes, barges and other shipping equipment stood high in Vice Port. The industrial hub of the city sat at the southern edge of the mainland.
"So where are you from?" Kevin asked.
"A town called Neiva." Catalina replied, concentrating on the road.
"So when did you come to the US?"
"When I was much younger, I always admired this one big buyer. He'd come to Colombia every year or so, and take his cocaine back to the US. And so one time, I left my home, and left with this giant of a drug dealer."
"So what happened to him? Sounds like you could've had a nice life."
"He didn't treat me right . . . they never me treated me right."
Kevin sat uncomfortable in the plush seat, not knowing what to say.
"So how about you, Mr. Kevin?" She snickered.
"Where am I from, you mean?"
"What do you think I meant?"
"Oh, well, I was born in San Andreas, but when I was 4 my mom and dad were, uh,"
The car whacked into a pothole. Sudden images of gunshots and human screaming flashed in Kevin's memory.
"What happened to them, tell me." He could tell Catalina was overcome with curiosity.
"I remember I always trusted my dad. Me and him always got along fine."
Kevin rubbed his face through his hands. He knew he didn't want to tell her. The images of his dad being drunk one night rippled in his mind. He wanted to believe that his dad was just like all the others, a warm loving man. But he always knew otherwise. Even though he knew he took drugs, knew he'd been arrested often, he tried desperately to believe he was a regular guy that loved his son. But that changed the night he came home, beat his mother to death and then took his own life. He realized that the life he had imagined to be normal had gone away as he sat on his couch, his mother and father's dead bodies lying on the floor.
"Then one day, the guy I thought I trusted and loved the most came home one night. . ." He sighed. "Just like that, you know?"
"I'm sorry." Catalina said.
"I'm alright." Kevin looked outside, saw the gentle water bouncing to the current of the wind.
"I just ran away from everyone you know? Everyone I used to trust. I got involved in some gangs and at one point I ended up here."
Catalina reached over with her supple tender hand and rubbed the tears gently from his eyes. She looked rubbed his head calmly, and then looked into his eyes.
"If anything goes wrong for you, you can always trust me, no matter what."
Kevin looked into her eyes and didn't know what to make of it. On the outside, the warm soft eyes stared back at him, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that something may lie beneath.
"You can trust me."
Those words echoed in his thoughts.
"You'll pay me what!?" The voice on the other end shouted.
"Look, just make sure he doesn't talk, okay? I'm in enough trouble as it is."
"And where's this mush gonna be at?"
"There's two contact points,"
"The first is in front of the the Moist Palms Hotel."
"If he ain't there, then he'll be at the secondary point, the alley across from the tanker barge."
"You better hurry, they won't be there forever."
"Don't worry, as long as the money's good, love, we'll make a killing! By the way, I love your show!" The British voice hung up.
Lazlow hung the phone up, sat back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and began packing all the belongings of his in the room. He only had a short time before his superiors came to check on him inside the studio.
Catalina climbed into the driver side seat of the car, as Kevin got into the passenger side. With only two other hired guns to help them, it would be quite a match against the Cubans. Catalina leaned forward, and in a ridiculously sexual manner, popped the glove compartment open. She slowly reached inside and took out a Desert Eagle pistol, and smiled towards Kevin. The dented door of the Rumpo slammed shut, and the van quickly drove off. Just behind them, however, a bright pink Virgo followed closely behind.
"Like bloody clockwork." It's driver murmured.
The van cruised down the endless road, as Catalina explained the previous events to Kevin.
"You see, Glenn's little scheme would take the money from VRock's headquarters and would be taken to an abandoned docking bay in Vice Port."
"And so you and members of the Sharks stole the money from your other gang, the Cartel, right?"
"Right. You make it sound like it's bad to be working two sides."
"I just thought it was creative."
Catalina looked over at Kevin, smiling.
The van slid it's way down the streets, allowing the sun to beautifully shine it's rays off from it's surface. Up haead the vast network of cranes, barges and other shipping equipment stood high in Vice Port. The industrial hub of the city sat at the southern edge of the mainland.
"So where are you from?" Kevin asked.
"A town called Neiva." Catalina replied, concentrating on the road.
"So when did you come to the US?"
"When I was much younger, I always admired this one big buyer. He'd come to Colombia every year or so, and take his cocaine back to the US. And so one time, I left my home, and left with this giant of a drug dealer."
"So what happened to him? Sounds like you could've had a nice life."
"He didn't treat me right . . . they never me treated me right."
Kevin sat uncomfortable in the plush seat, not knowing what to say.
"So how about you, Mr. Kevin?" She snickered.
"Where am I from, you mean?"
"What do you think I meant?"
"Oh, well, I was born in San Andreas, but when I was 4 my mom and dad were, uh,"
The car whacked into a pothole. Sudden images of gunshots and human screaming flashed in Kevin's memory.
"What happened to them, tell me." He could tell Catalina was overcome with curiosity.
"I remember I always trusted my dad. Me and him always got along fine."
Kevin rubbed his face through his hands. He knew he didn't want to tell her. The images of his dad being drunk one night rippled in his mind. He wanted to believe that his dad was just like all the others, a warm loving man. But he always knew otherwise. Even though he knew he took drugs, knew he'd been arrested often, he tried desperately to believe he was a regular guy that loved his son. But that changed the night he came home, beat his mother to death and then took his own life. He realized that the life he had imagined to be normal had gone away as he sat on his couch, his mother and father's dead bodies lying on the floor.
"Then one day, the guy I thought I trusted and loved the most came home one night. . ." He sighed. "Just like that, you know?"
"I'm sorry." Catalina said.
"I'm alright." Kevin looked outside, saw the gentle water bouncing to the current of the wind.
"I just ran away from everyone you know? Everyone I used to trust. I got involved in some gangs and at one point I ended up here."
Catalina reached over with her supple tender hand and rubbed the tears gently from his eyes. She looked rubbed his head calmly, and then looked into his eyes.
"If anything goes wrong for you, you can always trust me, no matter what."
Kevin looked into her eyes and didn't know what to make of it. On the outside, the warm soft eyes stared back at him, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that something may lie beneath.
"You can trust me."
Those words echoed in his thoughts.