The smell of sewer water filtered the air. The tropical trees were slightly swifting back and forth. The night sky was beautiful, as the street lights would light up the corners of Los Santos. It was one of those nights. Every night Giraldo would go to Ten Bottle's Bar and drink his heart out. A tipical place for a alcoholic. Although tonights experience couldn't have gone more awkward. It started as a normal night. Thirty dollars in his wallet, wearing khaki pants and a white T-shirt accompanied by a dark vest.
Giraldo owns a small house a couple buildings next to Ten Green Bottles. The street lights hovered over the filthy sidewalk. Giraldo walked lumpy-like. It wasn't the most confident walk, but who said he was confident. Many ghetto cars were parked in the sidewalk in each house. Grove street wasn't the most richest nieghborhood in the world. Giraldo's neightbors were pimps and Grove Street gang members. Just a bunch of African-Americans who were born in the wrong side of town. Green Bottles was always so quiet at night. There were mierly a few people in the bar at a time. As Giraldo entered the parking lot, he found a poor white man on the ground, wearing a black fancy suit with black dress shoes. His face was covered in blood. Beating him up were two men both wearing white T-shirts and shorts, with yellow bandanas tied to thier heads. From the color of thier skin they looked South-American. They were both kicking him repeatedly, stomping thier feet onto his body. Sweating his ass off, Giraldo decided to join in the little scenario.
"What are you doing?!" yelled Giraldo, with his deep-Italian accent. One of the men tilting his head around as the other kept on kicking the poor man.
"Back the f*ck off Gringo!" shouted the man. He then joined in with his butt buddy right next to him.
"Hey asshole! I said-" One of the South-Americans pulled a knife out right before Giraldo could finish.
"You wanna f*ck with me?!" asked the man laughing. Giraldo held still. The man finished off his last laugh, and continued beating the man with his partner. Giraldo breathed in and out slowly and converted his eyebrows into a straight out "V". Giraldo quickly dashed with his fist arched about to hook someone in the face. His target was the man with the knife. Giraldo critically punched the man twice, with his right and left fists. The man dropped to the floor, letting his knife slide a couple inches away. His partner who was still beating the poor man on the ground had a terrible reflex skill. That gave Giraldo just enough time to snatch the knife, and stab the other man behind the back. As the man stopped struggling for freedom against the knife he dropped the dead body leaving the knife on his back, and grabbed a hand for the poor man on the floor. Giraldo put his arm over the poor man, struggling to carry him. Some of the blood wipped onto the man's unique suit.
Giraldo reached for the knob with one hand, as his other arm reached over the bloody man carrying him. The door creeked open and inside was a nice decorated house, with a red carpet and leather furniture. Giraldo slowly tucked the man on the bed, soflty. The poor man was just grunting from the wounds he had. Giraldo rushed to the kitchen, tripping over some items on the floor. He came back with a towel and bandadges.
"It's alright man, it's alright," repeated Giraldo, wipping up the left over blood from the man's suit.
"Thank you", whispered the man, as he started to reheal.
Giraldo's eyebrows suddenly opened up as if he had just realized something. "I'm going to go call the police", said Giraldo.
But before Giraldo could step one pace, the man grabbed his arm. "No", he said. "It's better if the police didn't know about this, eh?"
Giraldo started to breathe slowly. He sat down beside the man. "What's your name?" I asked the man.
"Gennaro.. Gennaro Algiastro", said the man in his tipical yankish accent.
"Well don't worry Gennaro. Just lay back and get some rest", said Giraldo. Gennaro started to stretch out his fingers and move his shoulders, relaxing his muscles. He layed back and started slowly close his eyes.
The Next Day
Giraldo woke up early just to check on Gennaro. As he entered in his living room he found Gennaro sitting up tietening his tie. There was still a bit of old blood left on his suit. Giraldo didn't bother to clean it off. Giraldo slowly walked in. "You feel better?"
Gennaro quickly averted his head to Giraldo. "Yes... Yes, I am." It was a huge awkward silence before Gennaro started to talk again. "I appretiate what you've done for me. Those Mexies could've killed me."
"Who were they?" Giraldo asked."
"They are the Diaz Co.", answered Gennaro. "A big ass Mexican coorperation."
"And what do you have to do with them?" asked Giraldo, asking another question.
Gennaro didn't answer. As he straightened out his tie he said, "In return for my life, I have a job offer I'll like to give you."
Giraldo replied with the only few words neccessary. "I'm listening..."
"This offering I'm about to give you pays big time. And seeing you in action makes me think you're ready for this. But just asking, do you mind if this job isn't exactly.... Uhm..... Well, legal?" Gennaro made a deep stare into Giraldo's eyes.
"I'm all ears", smiled Giraldo.