Claude Speed owns most of Liberty City. He had a rare and relatively new virus that none new about, which prevented him from speaking. In early 2005, this unnamed virus was treated, and he can now speak, although he has sort of adapted to not speaking, so he doesn't' speak but rarely. In 1993, Claude had a girlfriend who he married, but divorced but a few months after the wedding. He now lives alone, taking care of business in Liberty City, and is constantly protecting his LC businesses from rival gang attacks. Claude still wore his traditional gelled up hair, leather jacked, and green cargo pants.
The date was October 28th, 2008. Claude had just got done with a "business deal" The time was eleven thirty-seven pm. Claude sped through the new housing development in the hills of Shoreside Vale, above Cedar Grove. This development continued for less than a mile, into the forest upon a mountain side. Beyond which is Carcer City.
Claude was comfortably adjusted to the Euros he was driving. He dodged people, cars, and any other obstacles, as he drove down a hill, slightly catching air, taking a hard right, heading over the Cochrane Dam. The radio station beat loud in his car, neon lights lit up the dashboard.
Rise FM was fitting to his high speed racing through Shoreside. He was currently in second place, after the "business deal" The car drifted around the corner past the hospital, causing passersby to look on in amazement. Everything was a blur from Claude's view. Lights from other cars passed by him in a flash as he sped by, heading towards Francis International.
Up the ramp he went, now on the lift bridge, the bell started to ring. In his rear view mirror, two rivals were tailing him, coming up fast.
As he passed by the lift area, he knew he was safe. Claude glanced back again, one rival made it, then the bridge started to lift up. The sound of crushing metal and shattering glass followed by an explosion signaled that the other didn't make it, as the bridge started to lift up.
Now about 15 feet in the air, Claude sped off the side, preparing himself for a rough landing. He was jolted up as his car hit the ground. Still following him, his rival made it off after him.
He sped around the coil of the Lift Bridge, and onto the road heading south. His rival tailed him from here, around Belleville Park, and back towards the lift bridge. The guy in first was visible now, five cars ahead of Claude. He reached ninety-seven mph as he started to slow down to drive up the bridge.
Again, the bell started to ring. This time, Claude caught up to the guy in first, and passed him, heading for Francis. He neared the lift area, it was going to be close.
As his heart raced, his head said no, and Claude smashed down on the breaks, skidding along the road, to a halt, in front of the lift area just as it lifted up. The two rivals skidded to a halt as well nearly bumping into Claude. They arranged themselves for a speedy take off.
Now came a few moments of waiting. The three cars were parked, waiting for the bridge to return to normal. The drivers examined each other. One was a blonde, and taunted Claude. Laughing to himself, Claude flipped him off.
Staying still, their cars growled at each other, as the drivers pushed on the gas. The bridge returned, and they took of in a dash again. This time, Claude was in the lead, they saw the other racer's car on fire on the other side of the bridge. Only two more turns left, the it's over.
The three cars constantly changing places. They sped straight on the same road, heading uphill. They came up to the cliff before the dam, and sped by it. All three cars touched, as each of them drifted around the corner, back onto Cochrane Dam. The last turn was ahead, before the tunnel, to the left.
Claude was smashed by the blonde once or twice, he almost lost control. The blond guy was on his left, the passed through traffic. The turn was coming up fast. Claude used the P.I.T. maneuver to force the blonde racer into a Mule truck, creating an accident, metal bits and pieces flew all over the dam as the hit.
Claude and the last racer were neck and neck, as they both took the turn. Claude took the turn sharper than his rival did, which cost him speed, but gave him first place. Unable to control his car, the rival bumped into Claude's Euros, giving him a boost.
The race was just about over as Claude stayed in the lead, for the final uphill stretch. Claude passed the finish line, and did a one-eighty drift to a stop, his rival right behind him.
The rival got out of his car, frustrated, throwing his hands up in anger and grief. He wore a whit tank top, and grey pants. "I can't believe this shit, homes. Okay, okay, you won fair and square, 'Claude', but this is not the last you'll see of me." The Mexican handed Claude four grand in cash. "By the way, homes, nice driving."
Claude nodded, and waved goodbye. The Mexican started to get into his car, which looked like a Lowrider with NOS, and finally shouted, "This is not the last you'll see of Cesar Vialpando!" He waved to Claude, and Claude waved back.
Claude took his money, and drove toward his mansion, the large red one he stole from the Columbian Cartel, who he wiped off the Liberty City map back in early 2005.
Claude had a sudden change of mind, as he desired fast food. Claude never at any of his homes, even if he had a chef, he would still prefer fast food. Looking at his military watch, it read 00:23. Him winning the race put him in a good mood, it was the most fun thing to do in LC, beside hookers.
Claude drove southwest, across the bridge, to Pike Creek, where he stopped at a newly build Punk Noodles twenty four hour fast food restaurant. He parked his precious green Euros in the parking lot and got out.
The night air was cold, Liberty City seemed darker than usual. As late as the hour is, the city was still filled with pedestrians and traffic, although it was lighter now than it is around noon.
He entered the door to the smell of chicken, noodles, and pork. These smells greeted him, and he liked it. He stood in line, waiting for the person in front of him to get done ordering. The Chinese guy at the counter, as well as the rest of the employees, wore white pants, a light blue shirt, and a pure white apron. His hair was spiked, Claude like it.
"You, you, what you order?" He asked. Claude examined the list above. He held up his fingers 'number 3' and 'number 7'
The clerk pressed buttons on the register, which beeped, and gave a receipt. "Twelve dollar. Twelve dollar. Thank you, come again."
Claude handed him the cash, then received the Noodles and pork he ordered. Claude took out his book, which he always carried around with him called Fame or Fugitive and sat down near the window, and started reading it.
Eventually he finished his meal, and noticed it was almost one-thirty am. He glanced around, noticing he was the only one in the restaurant. He dumped his trash, put his book back in his large pocket, and used the super-clean restroom. That was one thing Claude liked about this Punk Noodles, and why it is his favorite restaurant, it is clean.
After he finished his business, he walked outside. The sky was coffee black, the stars shining 'like diamonds on velvet.' Claude noticed a short black guy to his left, with a spray can, about to spray graffiti on the new Punk Noodles, welcoming them to the neighborhood. Almost every building in Shoreside Vale had graffiti on them. Claude, feeling desperation for one clean building, sprinted towards the man.
The man turned, in shock, as Claude tackled him to the ground, letting about a furry of punches, followed by a few kicks. He was out cold. Claude didn't even get punched. He then took his pink spray can, and flipped the black guy on his stomach, and wrote "PRICK" on his back. He then tossed the can into the darkness of an alley, and got back into his Euros.
Claude sped home, swerving in and out of traffic. He drove towards his mansion.
As Claude neared it, he spotted a very large group of men, who seemed to be separated into two groups. Claude knew it was trouble, they were only about a hundred feet away from his property. Claude parked his car, to see what happens.
A series of gunshots rang out, men form both sides are dropping, no pedestrians or traffic in sight. Four vans pull up, men filtered out. Now a select few of them fall fast, all of the men load up into the vans, and drive off, some heading towards Claude, who ducked to not be spotted as a witness to this war.
Knowing the cops would be there in a bit, sirens were already ringing out into the darkness of the sky. Claude wasn't going to stay in Shoreside tonight, he drove off, over the Shoreside Lift Bridge, to Staunton Island, where he parked his car at his old dead friend Asuka's condo, which he now owned.
On the top floor, he could see the buildings from which a long time ago, he had a confrontation in. The building was finished, but back then, it wasn't. It was just being worked on, and in there was where his friend Asuka Kassen, was killed, and the dipshit Miguel was stabbed by Catalina.
That was the old times, his mind pondered the times back then, and how things changed. It was a better life now, but shit never ends. Claude started to daydream. Remembering how he killed Asuka's brother, Kenji. He laughed. Kanji was a prick.
He turned around, and started to watch TV. He popped open a beer, and drank himself to sleep.
In the morning he awoke to gunfire. Not again. This always happens. Claude thought. He looked out the window. His men were being gunned down by some men in Hawaiian shirts, and beige pants. One was wearing a blue shirt with palm trees on it.
Claude gathered up some men, and grabbed an M4, and some armour from his gun safe. He took the elevator down to the bottom level, loading up his gun. Some screams were heard, not just of yelling, but screams of those who were shot, and dying. Now on the ground level, Claude ordered his men to set up on different floors, at different windows.
Because his enemies men were out in the open, they were forced back by Claude's heavy suppressive fire. The road was now littered with bodies, the sun shining down on them. The attackers were hiding behind cars, which were turning grey with bullet holes.
Claude aimed for the gas tank. One car exploded, taking out a whole group of them, creating smoke and fire, which would attract police attention. They both knew it was over. The man in the light blue palm tree shirt, who seemed to be the leader yelled, "It's not over, Claude! We will be back!"
Claude examined the group of men, as they were leaving. One was standing beside the leader. "That's right, were gonna be back, asshole!" he shouted very fast, in a deeper, quick voice. He had a mustache, and hair than went down to his neck, wearing a hat. In less then a few minutes, they were gone.
In less than five minutes, the weather went from sunny and clear as water to could and rainy as hell. Claude laughed again. Well that takes car of the blood. he thought.
Claude ordered his men to get rid of the bodies outside, and lock up the weapons before the cops came, in the mean time, Claude walked outside to his car. "BITCH!" he shouted, finding three grey bullet holes on the hood.
He sighed, now he has to go fix this. Yet another typical Liberty City day. He might as well go get it fixed now. Claude drove off, towards the nearest Pay N' Spray, where he would get his car repaired.