Warning: Large walls of text and needless swearing ahead. Forty "fucks" in fact. Enjoy.

Night time Belleville was nesting ground for purple suited pimps, undesirable girls, homeless people tired out after a hard day of trying to stay alive and wondering where their next drink will come from, and junkie's sleeping off their last fix. It felt like a minefield; stepping around the path littered with bodies and avoiding offers from pimps and prostitutes trying to deter me from my mission. A mission that involved money.

I found Ray hiding in a cubical, his feet visible through the space in the floor, and rather than open it up and see the horrors that could be behind it, I leaned against the filthy metal door and spoke to it instead.

"Hey," I addressed it.

"Hey, kid, how ya doin'?"

"I been better." I offered steadily.

"Listen, thanks for clearin' up that mess for me, and helpin' out my pal Asuka. I got a little somethin' you might like to know, hush-hush like."

"Yeah?" I craned to hear.

"I got word from a very reliable source, that Salvatore sent one of his men, a part driver, part hitman, to torch your house. And it turns out the same guy actually killed Sal himself. Sorry I doubted you kid."

"I told you! I was there, I saw him do it!"

"Yeah, I heard. . . Listen kid, you have a price on your head. This guy, whoever he may be, he don't much like the idea that you got shit on him – and who can blame him? - so, ya know, watch yourself. You got a lot goin' for ya right now."

"What the hell do you mean I "got a lot goin' for me"?" I mimicked, my mind racing through the rest of what Ray said. "My fuckin' family were killed, now I'm gonna be killed, I got no fuckin' money, no fuckin' home, no fuckin' family or friends, and the only person I get to talk to is some washed out fuckin' cop who lives in a fuckin' bathroom!" I was breathing heavily, I could feel the blood rushing to my head.

"Asuka likes you, kid." Ray responded deadpan. "Believe me, you're fuckin' goin' places. She wants to meet you again, she has big plans for ya, kid. Big, big plans." He took a breath, turned it into a sigh. "And I like you too, kid. That's why I'm gonna forget what you just said.. I know my life aint exactly what you would call glamorous. I know I live in a fuckin' shithole – no pun intended – and I know I've worn the same shitty suit for close to a fuckin' year. But I'm just like you. My life was fuckin' great, I got paid a shit load of cash for bein' a "good cop" made almost double it being the "bad cop", made even more skimming drugs and selling it on, shakin' down crooked bookies, lettin' em go for a cut of their deal. That's the big fuckin' problem, kid. When you live the high life, you got a lot of vermin trying to pull you back down and claw their way into your place. 1991 my wife left me to work in San An-fucking-dreas. Barbara was a good cop, said she couldn't take the risk, the paranoia, the constant looking over your shoulder and instantly suspecting every wandering eyed pedestrian to be a double agent or a hitman or a witness with a flair for words and no incentive to put a fuckin' cork in it. She took the kids, despite all the great toys I bribed them with and I never seen her again.

"So I got myself a partner that understood what the phrase "filthy fucking rich" meant and we fuckin' owned the town. This was before all the gangs started to migrate to our fair little city and wet their beaks. Back when it used to be the Forellis and the Sindaccos. We made so much cash. They gave me and officer. . .fuck, what was his name. . .Pulaski, yeah that was it. A young kid at the time, not the sharpest lad out there but easily the most loyal. Together, with him doing everything I fuckin' told him we got it all. Then the Leones tried to muscle in on the other family's turf. The decade long truce between the Sindaccos and Forellis ended, and an era of bloodshed, deception, betrayal and hurt began, spiralling out of control through the coming years. Me and Eddie made a living by selling information for fat paychecks and respect. I got Eddie sneakin' into the station at least once a week, returning with copies of files on Forelli/Sindacco/Leone Family involvement in Liberty City, and we sold them on to the Families, none of them with a fuckin' clue that they were bein' betrayed. And it went on like this for about four years. Other Families came and went, the Sindaccos disappeared, only the Leones and Forellis stayed. A Chinese gang, Triads or somethin' came here about a year after the Three Family War, but before they could even think about causing trouble, the Leone's had em eating out of their fuckin' palms.

"But little did we know, while we worked our asses off in Portland, a million other gangs took over Staunton and Shoreside, the Cartel being the latest one, springin' up within the last year maybe. Yakuza, Yardie, Hoods, makin' pretty good fuckin' money. I always wanted a cut of that money, but Eddie Pulaski said why spoil a good thing and I guessed he was right.

"So one day we were in the cells after hours, countin' the dough, when the door bursts open, this tall, fuckin' skinny black cop, bald apart from some wisps on the side he looked like he was desperately trying to hold on to. So he pulls up a fuckin' combat shotgun, me and Eddie shittin' ourselves, and points it at us, fuckin' winks, helps himself to all the fuckin' money on the table before he even says the first word. "Nice little game you got here guys" he says. "Here's how it's gonna work. I take your fuckin' cash, or, I fuckin' take you down fuckin' town. Fuckin' got it?" I keep my cool, aint takin' shit from some punk, ya know, but Pulaski mumbles a "yes sir" and gets offered a fuckin' job! You believe that shit? So Pulaski runs off with Officer Tenpenny, boards a fuckin' plane to Los fuckin' Santos and leaves me with shit. Without that dumb fuck Pulaski on my ass I could finally leave Portland and cut a deal with the Yakuza. I told em every little fuckin' detail about the Mafia and burned the Yakuza police file right in front of em. We made partners and I was well on my way to straightenin' my life out again, when I gets a call. Pulaski ratted me out to fuckin' IA and I got em sniffin' around trying to take me down.

"And that's my fuckin' life. I still get great pay but I can't even buy myself a new fuckin' suit without some bastard trying to cuff me. That was my fuckin' life, and you say I'm a fuckin' bum. So how does your fuckin' life compare? You got lucky, punk. When your life turned to shit you got another big break. It's too late for me, kid. I envy you. I'll tell you the one piece of advice that'll get you to the top and keep you there. Trust, is SHIT. You can buy people's trust like that, and they're loyal until someone gives em a better fuckin' offer. Remember that, kid. Remember it well."

I stood there, stunned. Ray really had lived an astounding life. I nodded, too frightened and shocked to speak and I left, doing as Ray said and comparing my life story to his. I lost my family, like Ray lost his, except his were probably still alive. I worked for the mob like he did, except I worked for their trust while he bought it. We both got betrayed by people we trusted and we both ended up being left for dead and fending for ourselves. Maybe he was right, maybe I did get lucky. At least I didn't have to live in a bathroom.

I could feel his eyes burning into me as I climbed the stairs. I walked to the casino to see if Asuka was there – I didn't have enough money for another taxi. A green Esperanto drove up next to me, a black clothed arm with an Uzi on the end extended from the window. I yelled, dived behind a bush and hit the deck, hands over my head. The drilling sound of ejected bullets kept ringing out and was almost drowned out by the sound of them whizzing by inches from my person. People screamed, and crumpled to the ground clutching bloody wounds and clawing their way along the grass in their attempt to steer clear of the drive-by. I rolled outward from the hedge and propped myself up against a sturdy tree, my heart beating like crazy. The slight glimpse I got of the shooters face before the incident showed him to be vaguely familiar to someone I had seen before.

I turned the thought over in my head as I walked away from the commotion and the wail of ambulances and loved ones alike, and made my way slowly and conscientiously to the casino.

Where did I know him from?

Why was he trying to kill me?

I saw Kenji's at the end of the block, and it hit me. I remembered back to something Ray had said.

"Salvatore sent one of his men to torch your house."

"kid, you have a price on your head."

The man from the Sex Club murder. Salvatore's killer was after me and trying to kill me.

Ray was right.

The casino was still locked up, I knocked on the back door and got a small, friendly looking Japanese man in a pearl white suit and red tie. He must have recognised me, because he immediately stepped away from the door, bowing as I walked past. He then quickly jumped in front of me to lead me into the VIP lounge where Asuka sat alone, a box of tissues and some pictures of her and Kenji spread out over the circular wooden table. She appeared to brighten up when she saw me come in.

"Thank you!" she cried, running to me with her arms outstretched. "Thank you so much!"

"It was nothing. . ." I replied, a little uncomfortable.

"Come. Let us get your house."

"O. . .okay."

We walked out to the parking area again and I looked for my car. Asuka approached from behind me and slipped keys into my hand, and pushed me towards a Yakuza Stinger.

"Now this is your car. Come on. You will drive to the house."

"What about my other car? Where is it?"

"It has already been delivered to your new home."

"But how?" I asked, feeling the keys in my pocket.

"Haha, "but how?", that's funny. Come on."

I opened the passenger door to let Asuka in, then let myself in the other side. The interior was leather, all black and very very clean.

"It's brand new." she said.

"Thank you so much." I said, remembering Ray's "you're going places" line.

"You remember how to get to the condos?" she asked.

"I think so."

"Good. Let's go."

I drove out of the car park onto the neon lit, Vegas-like Strip and drove through the animated Staunton night life. The thick one-way glass prevented outside sound from entering the vehicle, making the silence even more stony. Asuka finally broke it.

"I would like you to do another job, if it's okay."

I still haven't been paid for the last one, I thought.

"Look in the glove compartment." she said, as if reading my thoughts.

I opened the compartment to find a plain white envelope with a thin red seal. Also in there was a torch.

"Ray's money to you is there as well."

I nodded, and decided not to open it while I was driving. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Do you know what SPANK is?"

"I don't think so." I responded, confused.

"It is a drug. Recent rumours – rumours from Ray, which are undoubtedly always true - suggest that the Cartel are selling it. We have also received word from another anonymous tipster that a very large shipment came in recently and is being held in a construction site not far from our homes. I'll point it out on the way."

"So, you want me to steal it?"

"No, no thank you. I want you to follow it, when they deliver it to their client."

"How do you know it's going to the same client?"

"Our sources suggest that a very rich man - or woman - has requested a vast amount of the poison. I want you to find out who."

"Okay. When are they delivering?"

"We don't have exact details, but one of ours has been watching the site for around a week, and any hot produce taken to the site always leaves sometime on the exact same day."

"So I'll wait near the site and watch them leaving?"

"Exactly. I knew I could count on you. Thank you."

Another few minutes of silence followed, and Asuka pointed to the construction yard, a building in very early stages of development surrounded by a blue fence. A minute later we had arrived at the apartments.

"I see my car over here." I pointed. "Is that where I'm staying?"

"That's it." She handed me a key.

"Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it. However I would request that you acquaint yourself with the place later."

"You want me to start staking out the yard?"

"Yes. I trust you will do a good job."

Trust. I laughed to myself. Ray was right again, trust really can be bought.

I parked the Stinger by Asuka's condo and let her get out.

"One more thing," she said among much gratuitous praising, "don't go in the Stinger, they will suspect you."

"Good idea." I said, having already been thinking that myself.

I drove along the asphalt and left the Stinger next to my Banshee, quickly switched between the two , taking the torch and envelope with me, and drove off up the hill to the building site. I parked just across the street from the entrance, turned off the engine and the lights, making the car seem almost invisible in the darkness. I rolled down the windows, a wave of cold air hitting me, and listened.

I was startled by the sound of talking, thick Mexican accents shouting and swearing. I checked my watch. Five in the morning. It was still dark. When the talking ceased, I saw a Cartel Cruiser, identical in appearance and colour to the ones in Portland. It waited for the red and white bar to be raised, and rolled out slowly on to the road, heading South. I turned the engine on when it rounded the corner, and gave chase. I turned the corner myself, seeing the Cruiser's brake lights faintly up ahead. I kept my distance, and found it hard to keep track of the tiny red lights and indicators in the glowing neon metropolis. I switched off my lights, letting me get a few yards closer and still remain in the shadows and out of sight. I stayed two cars behind him as we travelled down the dual carriageway, I let the driver go ahead a bit. Both the cars between us turned off to the left down a slip road, forcing me to close the gap. He kept to the speed limit well for a criminal. He took an unexpected right at Kenji's casino, I panicked and screeched the brakes, the driver looked like he panicked because he sped up a lot. I drove past the turn, turned around and then followed, hoping the driver would be put at ease if it looked like I wasn't tailing him. I expected to have lost him, and almost confirmed that when I saw him take the first left and disappear from sight – he too had killed his lights. I went the same way as him anyway, expecting to have failed in my attempts. I guess I got lucky. The car had stopped, the driver was gone.

I parked across the street, a bit away from the Cruiser. I opened my door silently, turning off the purring of the engine. I ducked behind my car, scoping out the building across from me through the front windows. Keeping low to the ground, I half ran, half crept across the street, pushing myself up against the Cruiser to avoid being seen. I peered through the windows, there was no stash, no driver, no clues, no nothing.

A light flashed on several stories up the building. Two figures, one a short fat man, the other tall and skinny were standing there like silhouettes, making actions with their hands. I removed the torch from my pocket, and shone it on the wall of the building, trying to decipher the embossed logo stretched across it. The torch lit an enormous distance, but the lettering was still faint.

I saw an L.

Then an O, V and E.

Love?

It didn't make sense. I moved the torch around, the light dancing like a marionette. A scanned over the letters a few more times, sent the light to the top of the building, the bottom, the top again, where I saw the garden area, plush greenery and blooming flowers. Then I remembered where I had seen it before, in the travel magazine about Liberty City.

The drugs were being delivered to Love Media.

I danced the torch around in triumph, then shut it off. I took another glance at the transaction room, and saw the short fat man glaring back down. I gulped nervously. The light faded into darkness.

I ran back to my car and started the engine. In the same second, the Love Media doors almost blew off their hinges, as the fat man, who I now noticed was wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt and cowboy hat plodded out, firing round after round from his pistol.

I cursed at my poor choice of vehicle, ducking down behind the door frame of my convertible as bullets flew all around – the handiwork of a trigger happy maniac.

The engine stalled, I slammed my fists hard down on the dashboard and tried again, the sweet sound of the roaring engine filling the air. I took off, leaving the fat man in my dust. But there was no time to celebrate yet. The familiar green Esperanto pulled out of an alley in front of me, revved it's engine and took up the lane on my left. The car scraped against mine, I shielded my eyes from sparks, cursing and waving my arm in all directions.

Once again his window rolled down, and out stretched that black clad arm. This time a .38 glinted in the moonlight and echoed into the air with a click. I screamed, slammed down on the brakes as the bullet ejected from the gun, tearing through the paintwork on the front of my car. I stopped, catching my breath and trying to recover from the shock as the green Esperanto faded into the distance.

Rather than risk driving the same way as the car, back to Asuka's condo to give her the news, I U-turned and parked behind the casino, parking between two large SUVs in hope that no one would recognise the car. I greeted the small Japanese man again, and asked him to call Asuka. He skipped over to the phone immediately and dialled a number, receiving an answer in what could only have been two rings. He spoke hurriedly in Japanese, moving his head from side to side and occasionally switching hands with the phone. He finished speaking, and nodded his head as the voice on the other side spoke back. He laughed, said something (probably "bye") and hung up, approaching me again.

"Ah, miss Asuka Kasen will be here in ten minutes. I tell her it was an emergency."

"Thank you."

"My preasure." he said, led me to a chair in the lounge and skipped away back to the door, rolling up his sleeves.

I sat, drumming my fingers on the coffee table, keeping my eyes fixed either on my watch or on the door. Exactly seven minutes after I sat, there was a knock at the door. The doorman jumped in fright (he had nearly nodded off), quickly rolled his sleeves back down, straightened his collar, smoothed his hair and opened the door. Asuka almost mowed him down on her way in, tossing some notes at him as she passed. She pulled a chair up next to me and said, "What is it?"

"Sorry, you didn't have to rush all the way down here. Were you sleeping?" I asked, feeling guilty.

"I almost never sleep." she replied seriously.

"I found out who the drugs were going to." I said.

"Who?"

"A fat man in a Cruiser left them with someone at Love Media about half an hour ago."

"Donald Love is buying SPANK?" she yelled excitedly. "This is too perfect! We have ourselves a scandal! I'll alert our people at the newspapers to make up a story on it, and tomorrow, we will sort it out."

"Me?"

"If you would. I'll be with you, as well as a trained army of our finest men."

"Sounds tough."

"It will be dangerous, we must be stealthy, discrete, deadly." she laughed evilly. "You go home now, sleep well, and tomorrow meet me here to begin. You will be rewarded well for this, do not worry."

I nodded, picked up my coat and left for "home".