CHAPTER 2:CAUSING A SCENE
"MARCUS!" Yelled the broad Irish accent that I have to call Mum.
"Urgh..." I half slur half groan through the door.
"Breakfast!" It yelled again.
"COMING, FOR FUCK SAKE!" I yell back getting annoyed and I wasn't even awake 5 minutes.
I sluggishly stood up and walked over to my wardrobe in which I managed to find a pair jeans and shirt. I crouch onto my knees to recover my trainers from under the bed. I pull them on my feet and tie the laces in a double-knot. I walk out of my room door and trip over something.
"FUCK!FUCK!FUCK!" I say nursing my jaw which had just bounced off of the wall.
I look to my feet to see what I tripped on and seen my brothers' fire engine.
"Carl, you bastard." I mutter, as I walk down the stairs.
I walk into the kitchen and see my breakfast on the counter.
"Coffee, Son?" I hear Dirk say behind me.
"Don't call me that, you're not my Father." I say, cheekily.
I take my plate and sit on the rather weary looking couch and hear ,to my disgust, one of my brother's shows come on the tv. I let out a sigh of disbelief at how children can sit and watch this bullshit, I mean if you were to sit and watch an hour of this you would lose brain cells. As I try and block out the mind-numbing theme music and pointless songs as I eat my breakfast. Eventually, my Mum brings my 6 month old sister in the room and she starts making noise in time with the music.
"Yes, Mum, that's the way forward numb their minds before they can fucking walk!" I shout sarcastically to my Mother.
"Don't use that language to me or in front of little Carl or Holly there!" My Mum scolds.
"Too late for Carl he knows some of that language and Holly can't fucking understand English!" I shout back at my Mother
"You shouldn't speak to your Mom that way, Mark." Says the all-knowing Dirk.
"Stay out of it and don't ever fucking call me Mark or I will break your fucking jaw!" I shout at Dirk.
I don't know why I hate Dirk the way I do I always try to think of it as something like a mix of him trying to be my dad or the fact he's banging my mum or maybe it was that lousy American accent yes I live in America , I can get citizenship but I've still got a lot Ireland in me most noticeably my accent, which always made me popular with the chicks from Dukes to Los Santos fucking sluts I tell you now.
"Don't speak like that to him!" My mum scolds me again.
I couldn't be bothered with arguing so I just flipped her off. I pulled out my iFruit phone and called my best friend Packie.
*BEEP*BEEP*
"What's up, Marcus?" Packie says from the other end of the line.
"Does there need to be a reason?" I ask
"Well, there usually is! Haha!" He replies.
"Yeah, well I'm coming to pick you up before my IQ drops 50 points." I say.
"Where?" He asks.
"Er... meet me at the Maze Bank Arena." I say.
"See you there then." He says and hangs up the line.
I walk out the door silently and walk to my stolen Invetero Coquette. I put the keys in the ignition and start up the car. I begin to drive to the Maze Bank Arena when I remember that since this car is stolen the cops will be looking for it. I change course for a Los Santos Customs. When I reach Los Santos Customs I notice that a cop was parked near the entrance, obviously looking for my car, I think to myself. I quickly reverse and decide that it was maybe best if I pick up Packie then switched plates and paint. After almost a half-hour of slightly edgier driving than normal I finally reach Packie.
"Where the fuck did you get this beauty?" He asks.
"It's stolen, now can we please go I'm not so comfortable being here there's too many cameras!" I say, getting a little over paranoid by the fact I could be busted here and now.
"Yeah, sure." He says, swinging open the passenger door.
"So, what are we doing?"
"LS Customs." I answer, scanning for patrol cars.
"Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention it before the Union Depository got busted I did a little job for these two guys on the FIB. I didn't catch one of the guys name's but I swear that one them was called Frank or somthin'." He says
"You robbed the FIB building?" I ask out of disbelief.
"Oh, yeah, got a containment drive or somethin' whatever that actually is." He says, acting very smug.
"And how much did you get for this containment drive?" I ask.
"A couple of hundred thou." He says.
"SHIT!" I shout." What the fuck happened to it?"
"Strippers, booze and weed my friend." He says
"Fair enough. Did you hear some crazy dude bought that club?" I ask.
"Yeah, I seen him come in and out with the two guys I mentioned, he looks insane man plus he's a Canadian so there really is a first time for everything, eh?" He says, laughing at his own joke, I start laughing aswell.
"Here, we are." I say, as I pull into LS Customs.
"What can I do for you?" the mechanics ask.
"Paintjob, white, and different licence plates."
After five minutes of waiting I leave the autoshop leaving $300 behind .
"What now?" Packie asks.
"I don't know, wanna rob the gas station?" I ask.
"Yeah, sure!" Packie replies, full of joy at the idea.
"There's two balaclavas and two guns in the glove box and when holding the gun wear this glove so if you ditch the gun they won't get a print." I explain.
"You planned this ,didn't you." Packie says
"So? I'm prepared if it's a crime I'll plead guilty." I answer.
"Freedom and cash on hand is a blessing." He says, possibly quoting one of his old friends from LC.
"Station is right up there." I say, getting out of the car.
I put the handgun in my jeans and balaclava in my pocket. I lead Packie round the back of the station clear of most camera's and peering eyes. I put on the balaclava and remove the gun from my jeans.
"1,2,3!" I say as I prepare to run in the garage.
I kick open the door and point my gun the cashier.
"GIVE ME THE FUCKING MONEY FROM THAT DRAWER!" I shout.
I hear Packie threatening the customers.
"ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS AND YOU ALL MAKE THE SIX O'CLOCK NEWS!" He yells.
"HURRY THE FUCK UP!" I yell at cashier.
He throws the bag of the money to me I look around and shoot the camera and run for the car. I hear sirens in the distance and pick up the pace. I reach the car and drive to get Packie.
"GET IN!" I yell
When he sits down I speed down the road. After 5 minutes of doing 100 mph down the road I park in an alleyway and wait for the sirens to stop.
"How much?" I ask.
"$750." Packie says, having counted it quickly.
"$375 each, not bad, where do you want dropped off?" I ask.
"The beach'll do." He answers.
"The beach then." I say.
After I drop Packie at the beach, I return home and see my mother sitting on the sofa.
"Explain yourself! NOW!" She yells.