Grand Theft Auto 3: Familiar Territories
By Peteman89
Note: Hi. As you may have noticed, the titles for the first three chapters are different. This is because I was stuck for a title. The title you see above you will be the title from now on.
Chapter 3: Getting Personal
Struggling to escape his ropes, Claude was dragged further down and out to sea. His leg hurt like hell as did his arm. He moaned and fought back the urge to open his mouth and scream out.
He wriggled his shoulders which only added to the pain, but a little pain would be a small price to pay if he wanted to live.
Claude could still see the shore pretty well and kicked as hard as he could to get some oxygen. He fought hard and wriggled his shoulders again, somehow hoping that his arms would suddenly come free. Beginning to feel drowsy, he swam harder and through his chest upwards, battling against the waves. His stomach choked, he needed air.
As hard as he could, Claude thrust his shoulders and chest up once last time, and suddenly his arms began to loosen. He got a second wind and groped at the ropes. His bad arm popped free and, despite the terrible pain, yanked the ropes off of his other arm.
Now he was deep. He bit the inside of his lip and pushed off upwards from rock by his feet and kicked as hard as he could. Claude could feel his lungs tightening up and he kicked as hard as he could, rocketing himself to the surface. He tore through it and gasped in tremendous effort. Claude felt his lungs fly back into action and he breathed as much as he could. His breathing got faster and faster and he felt drowsy again.
He breathed once more, but it seemed like more of a sigh of relief. Claude let his head lie back and he passed out on top of the waves with the rain falling all around him.
Twenty-six hours later, Claude opened his eyes. He was hit by a tremendous white light and immediately closed his eyes again. He moaned and turned away but got a pain up his arm and onto his shoulder. He moaned more and returned to his original position. It was then that he heard the beeping. All around him he could hear beeping.
Claude carefully opened his eyes. From where he was he could see more white. The white looked like blankets. He felt what he was lying on and was met with the comforting feeling of a bed.
Opening his eyes further, he could see the beeping. It was coming from machines all around him. One of them had a funny green line which produced little spikes regularly. Another had 'Breathing Rate' and 'Heart Pressure' labelled on it. This machine was connected to a small, blue plastic nut shell which was attached to his finger. He went to pull the shell off when a curtain in front of him was pulled open and a nurse strode in. He stopped and raised her eyebrows when she saw Claude's open eyes looking back at her.
"Ah, you're awake" she said sweetly
Claude swallowed painfully and asked, "Where am I?"
"Shoreside Vale General Hospital" she replied and walked over to the machines surrounding Claude. She produced a clip board from behind her and made notes.
"How…long have I been here? Nurse…?"
"It's Green. Nurse Green and you've been here for abooooooout…" she emphasised the last word as she fumbled for her watch, "twenty-six hours and…twenty-seven minutes"
Claude gasped quietly. Leone said he'd be going to the hideout.
Claude groaned and sat up.
"And where do you think you are going? You've had a nasty accident, you need to rest"
"But-"Claude argued but he was interrupted.
"No 'buts'" she said and gently put his back against the pillows again.
He sighed and closed his eyes again. Nurse Green walked to the curtain.
"I'll come and check on you in an hour, okay?"
Claude grunted in agreement and rested his head. He heard the curtain close and Nurse Green's footsteps walk of into the unknown.
Claude's eyes shot open and he sat up again, trying to keep as quiet as possible. His clothes were on a chair beside the bed. They had been washed, dried and left on the chair. Probably to give some colour to the unnaturally clean smelling ward and the seemingly acres of white.
Claude pulled the covers aside. The leg that he hurt was exposed. It was ripped up and looked mangled lying there in a support at the end of the bed. Claude's arm was in a sling so with his one good arm, he escorted his leg from the bed, lightly to the floor. He bit his lip and tried not to make a sound. He stood on his good leg and fetched his underwear.
He put them on and then proceeded to put on his trousers, which proved difficult as he tried to pull his trousers, with one arm, over the support which stretched from the thigh of his left leg to just past the ankle. Suddenly he heard talking just outside his bed area.
"…Yeah I've just got to see this patient" someone said
Claude froze. The talking continued but a lot quieter. It ended with a roar of laughter and then the curtain for the bed next to his was pulled back.
He sighed and got his shirt. He threw it over his broken left collar bone and his right arm through the other sleeve. After about five minutes, he managed to button up most of the buttons except the top two. He put his jacket on and stuffed the tie into his right pocket. He bent down and slipped his right shoe on and put the left one in his left pocket.
Claude heard the voices again. This time they were talking to the patient.
"…You rest that leg, now" the voice from before said.
He heard the talking and laughing fade as the two people walked off.
Claude hopped quietly over to the curtain that he shared with the bed next to his. He peered round at the patient.
A fat man, about fifty years old lay in bed. He looked to be covered in sweat and had a broken leg. Claude spied a crutch close to where he was standing. He held his breath and reached in to the fat man's bed area. His fingertips touched the crutch and he tipped it towards him. He caught it and carefully lifted it up over the machines and into his bed area.
The fat man began snoring and Claude smiled for the first time since before his 'accident'. He pulled back his own curtain and hopped out with his brand new crutch.
Claude hobbled over to the elevator at the far end of the ward, being careful that he wasn't spotted. He went it and hit 'Ground'. The elevator hummed and began its descent to the ground floor.
The doors pinged open to a virtually empty reception area. Claude smirked. More luck. He went out the elevator and towards the large automatic doors and the end of the reception desk. They opened and he went out into the cool early morning air.
He had to get to his hideout. 8-Ball would be in danger, or had been in danger. Claude limped past the ambulances. He remembered that there was usually a police car outside the station across the road. Again he smiled when he spotted it.
Claude approached the door, made sure no one was watching him and then pulled the door. It opened.
"These police really have to learn to lock doors" he thought and then threw his crutch over to the passenger side.
He turned the key and the car purred to life. Claude hit the accelerator and flew off towards the bridge to Staunton Island.
A minute later and the tall, white buildings of Francis International Airport came into view. Claude drove past it and onto the bridge. He could hear the ringing of the warning bell as the bridge was about to rise up, for reasons unknown to Claude. He was fifty feet away when the bridge hummed and began to move up. Claude threw the steering wheel to the right and hit the raised part of the wall.
The car went up and bounced sideways onto the raised section. Claude kept going and then off the end of the raised section. The car's direction changed to vertical as it plummeted off and landed on its front. It bounced on the bumper and then flipped over onto its wheels. Claude tried hard to keep the car under control and it finally stopped swerving.
He flew around the bend and notched the speed up to seventy miles per hour. He pulled the handbrake and turned. The police car skidded around the corner and was now facing the Callaghan Bridge. Claude hit the accelerator again and sped off across the bridge.
He turned left at the bottom of the bridge in Portland and flew through Chinatown. Claude turned right onto the main road and was now within a quarter of a mile of his hideout. He turned sharply into his hideout but then slammed on the brakes, hard.
The entire area was covered in yellow tape and there were a lot of men in hard hats. It was then that Claude noticed that his hideout wasn't there. In its place was a large black mould of debris. Claude stared open-mouthed and then opened the door.
"What happened!" he screamed at a man in a hard hat.
The man noticed him and came over.
"Fire, sir. Burned the whole damn place down and killed a man inside"
"8-Ball…" Claude thought.
"Sir? I'm afraid you're gonna have to vacate the area, this debris needs to be escorted out of here"
Claude looked at the man and then at his rear view mirror and he spotted the shiny shotgun which lay in the back seat. Cops always had shotguns in the back. He punched the steering wheel.
"All right! Now it's personal!"