Hi, this is my first story, sorry if it's a bit cliché.
Calvin was born and raised in Los Santos, he lived in a nice cream-coloured house, it was a good size, three bedroom, one bathroom, kitchen, fair-sized living space. He lived with his mum, whom was 42 at the time, and his sister, 24.
He was only 15 at the time, it was a reasonable life.
Until his mother died, and his sister deserted him. Left to fend for himself, he committed petty robberies, car thefts, that sort of thing, until he got enough cash to rent out an apartment.
One day he found, he was running low on cash, so he put on a mask, and went to the nearest Ponsonbys, walking in with a mere Beretta pistol, yelling at the clerk to hand over the money, when he didn't comply, he shot the guy, once, twice, until he fell, and looted him, taking off as the sirens got closer, a few days later, after the heat had died down, he got a knock on his door, some guy named Richard, who had some jobs for him, if he was interested, so of course, being low for cash as Calvin was, he took Richard up on his offer, doing a few jobs, robberies, assassinations, etc.
Calvin was sitting in his apartment, on the couch in his living room, watching some fail comedy show, when he felt the vibration of his phone from his pant-pocket.
He sat up, and withdrew the phone, looking at the screen, he saw the number, and answered.
"Shoot." Answered Calvin,
"Tomas, you up for some work?" asked the gruff voice of on the other end of the line.
Calvin contemplated it, well, it'd be nice to have some spare cash anyway.
"What've you got for me, Richard?"
"Simple assassination, some street hood needs silencing, I won't go into detail as to why, there's a rifle on the roof of an old garage in Grove Street, next to the fuel station, guy should be there around night-time." replied Richard.
Calvin didn't exactly like killing, but it was the easiest way to make money, in his opinion.
"Fine, what's the pay?"
"5G's, good enough for you?"
"Yeah, fine. Consider it done." replied Calvin, hanging up.
Night had fallen on Los Santos, and Grove Street was deserted, except for a couple of pedestrians, and the Ballas, of course. They smoked and chatted with one another, but there was obvious waryness as the hooded man passed by. This was their territory, and this punk just comes and walks by, they didn't take kindly to strangers, a Balla shouted at Calvin from the other side of the street.
The hooded man was Calvin Tomas, 21, unmarried, no kids. He was an assassin, not a brilliant one, but he got the job's given to him done.
Calvin walked on, making sure the Balla wasn't following him, as he walked up to a building, his eyes found the ladder and he walked over and started climbing, once he was at the top, he looked around and surveyed the street below him.
There, chatting with some Ballas by a liquor store, was the guy Calvin was looking for, illuminated in the light from the store, slightly chubby, blue baggy jeans, grey tank top.
Calvin picked up the sniper-rifle next to him, suppressor attached, and positioned it on the low wall in front of him. looking down the scope and lining up the crosshairs, taking a deep breath for that second of steadiness. One squeeze was all it took, and the rifle gave a little jerk backwards, without waiting to confirm he'd hit, he left the sniper sitting there, as alarmed cries rang out from below, He quickly slid down the ladder, he heard a car pull in below him.
"There! there he is!" shouted a Balla near him, Calvin looked down, seeing the Balla beside the car, he withdrew his Sig Sauer, and fired twice, downing the Balla before he could raise his Micro SMG.
He reached the bottom, and went to get into the car, and then thought against it.
Calvin ran to a wall to his right, just as the fourth shot of the night rang out, aimed at him.
He could hear the ping as the bullet hit the ground next to him. He reached the wall, lunging up and hauling himself over the side, landing on his side, as more shots rang out. Calvin pushed himself up off the ground, running down, toward the La Mesa canal, now there were more shots, and sirens.
Calvin had started to calm down as an officer yells somewhere behind him. Then Calvin is sprinting, raising his Sig Sauer, and fires back, letting loose four rounds, and by luck, the officer is hit in the leg and falls over in agony.
Calvin dashes to his right, toward the highway. A police cruiser pulls up on the other side of the canal, two officers getting out, and order Calvin to stop, but he pays no heed, and fires at them, no bullets hit, but the cops hide behind their car doors, and fire at him, Calvin hears the bullets strike the ground around him, and then he's blinded by a dazzling white light as a helicopter emerges, the door-gunner letting loose on him with an assault rifle, luckily he's a bad shot.
The two officers run after Calvin, one pauses and fires, missing Calvin by inches.
Calvin reaches the highway, the two officers still in pursuit as he runs up to the barrier, vaulting over it, cars honk and one swerves into another, other people yell at him, Calvin runs up to an old Impala, throwing open the door, and hauling an old man out, apologizing, and speeds off.
Any and all help and advice is appreciated.