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Some of you might catch on as you read it, some of you might not. Some of you may remember me, and some of you might not. Regardless, I've always thought of this place as a place that's nurtured what I'd found to be my greatest passion, and I owe them, at least, a sample of what has grown out of me, and out of what this place had allowed me to become. So here's a story, it might be long, it might not be long. I haven't figured it out, but here it is. Enjoy it.



"Some things are better left alone and unfinished."


Table of Chapters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five




Chapter 1

Someone once asked if I would be remembered.


Short answer: no


Tina’s okay looking. She has an out-of-date bob cut with a headband on that reminds me of some eighties movie – name drop anything by John Hughes. She sips on her Pißwasser and stares off into the bar. She’s so stoned right now she probably forgot who she came here with; stuck in her little fantasy world with Fabio over there at the bar. I take a drag of my cigarette and hear shouts from some taxi driver at traffic about how sh*tty this city is. And it only gets sh*ttier.


“Hey. You know, it was great hanging with you and all-” But she cuts me off with a finger.


She turns back to me. I never noticed how green her eyes were. “Don’t ruin the evening yet.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and tosses them onto the table. She turns back to look at Fabio.


I reach over and grab the cigarettes. I had been wanting to quit ever since coming back from Vice, but it’s a hard thing to quit.


I light the cigarette and stand up, pulling my jacket in tighter. I haven’t gotten used to the cold yet. I take a drag from my cigarette and wait for her to turn around, but she only speaks to the glass separating her from her estranged lover in the bar. Please.


“You know. I was planning on f*cking you tonight.”




“I mean it.”


“I’m sure you do.” I look at my watch and realize I could be taking a more productive shower.


She finally turns to me and takes my hand. She kisses the back of it and she looks up at me with those virulent green eyes. “Please? Stay for me?”


I take my hand back and take a drag from my cigarette. She crosses her arms and takes another sip of her piss beer. What a child, throwing a tantrum.


“I’ll call you later when you calm down.” I leave her there and turn the corner before grabbing a booth at a café. The waitress comes over with this big smile plastered across her face and I guess she’s cute enough.


“Would you like anything to drink, sir?” She reminds me of Tina who reminds me of Beth who reminds me of Kelsey.


“What whiskeys do you have?”


“We have Mountie Mallet, Seaman’s 8, Jennason, Jane-”


I stop her with a wave of my hand. “Give me a double Mountie on the rocks. Can you also put in a slice of lemon?”


“Sure thing, sir!” And she jets off.


I lean into the booth and close my eyes. I can imagine Tina sitting there sullenly outside the restaurant, pouting. I can imagine her grabbing her cigarettes and her purse, getting up in a huff until her big strong savior comes out and bumps into her. They would both apologize and she’d make up her mind to f*ck him right then.


“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Ghost of Night Clubs past.” I keep my eyes closed and let out a moan as I hear the booth creek. “Definitely thought you were dead.”


“Same could be said about you.” I hear a glass clink on the table and the waitress’s voice pipes up.


“Oh, would you like anything to drink, sir?”


“Whatever the hell this motherf*cker’s having. Pretty sure it’s apple juice in a glass by the looks of it.” He laughs at his own joke and the waitress only follows to ensure some meager tip. “So, I heard there was an explosion.”


“How did you find me?”


“I didn’t. I like this café. One of the only ones left that turns a blind eye to smoking indoors.” I could hear his lighter clicking with each flick.


I open my eyes and reach over and grab my drink. It’s dim in the café and he’s far back enough into his seat where his face is cast in shadow. I probably didn’t want to see it anyway, not after the gentlemen’s club incident.


“You torch my club, you don’t call, you blow yourself up. Some kind of friend you are, man.” He takes a drag from his cigarette and the small ember reflects in his eyes.


“Guess I lost track of time.” I take a sip and let it sit in my mouth before swallowing. The burn feels good; first thing I’ve felt all day.


The waitress returns with a smile and gives him his drink. He smiles back and thanks her before taking a sip and placing it on the table. “I see you’re stepping up and drinking a real man’s drink. You stopped drinking your little apple juice and coconut rum concoctions?”


I take another sip. “I stopped a lot of things.” I pull out a cigarette and light it. He leans in with a cackle and sneers at me.


His face is exactly how I thought it would look after being blown up by a flaming bottle of vodka. His skin is scarred from his left temple up to the side of his eye and along his left cheek until his chin; a patch of hair is missing from the top left corner of his face and his left eyebrow is cut off jaggedly at the end. Another scar runs from the inside of his left eyebrow over the bridge of his nose and cuts down under his right eye, ending directly under the outer tear duct of his right eye; most likely from a flying glass shard of the exploding bottle of liquor.


“Don’t I look nice? I have you to thank for my make over.”


“I see you still like holding grudges.” I take a sip and drag. I roll my eyes and look down at my glass with water rivulets forming and gliding down the side.


“And I can see you’re still an ungrateful asshole.”


“Did you come over here just to be an ass to me, cause if so, you can f*ck off right about now.”


He makes a frowning face to mock me and whimpers. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? Cause you f*cking destroyed my face.” He slams his fist and nearly spills both of our drinks. I pick mine up and take a sip.


“Maybe if you didn’t shoot at me.”


“Well, maybe if you didn’t destroy my club.”


“I didn’t do anything. I came in to keep an eye on a friend and some unwanted company found me.” Memories of Victor nearly dying fill my mind and I don’t have time for this. “Is there a point to any of this?”


“Yeah, actually.” He takes a sip of his whiskey and a drag of his cigarette. “For being dead almost nineteen years, why are you here? In Liberty City?”


I look down at the table and stare at the glass intently. I can see Kelsey’s face, or at least what I remember Kelsey looking like who reminds me of Beth who reminds me of Clara who reminds me of Tina who is busy f*cking Fabio, and I can’t think of why I’m here.


“Roberto. What happened to you?”

Edited by Cubanwhip

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Fuggen blast from the past up in hurr. Unfortunately, nobody from our era seems to frequent the boards anymore. I was gonna message a few of 'em, but their last log ins were ridiculously long ago.




Still hands down the greatest story posted here. I'm gonna be copying and pasting the entire thing into a notepad to read at work. Yeaaah!

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f*ck yes. With you and Tony writing more of the saga, it's like a whole blast from the past. Excellent work.

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Yeah, we're shooting the sh*t over it on Facebook. We weren't very bright... Toreno got shot a few times in late 2006... and somehow ended up president of the US in early 2007 continuing on in my story. Great writers alert. Greatest, in fact.


Ah well! Maybe we can patch these plot holes up in the weeks to come. blush.gif

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NO ONE EVER GOT OUR TIE INS. We worked so hard on them and making them totally legit and fool proof. But now I got to go back and reread The Conclusion and all of the Heart City's in order to make a plot hole-less trilogy killer. It's going to be great! TOO BAD NO ONE WILL EVER GET IT.

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post a new chapter please. This is good.

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I guess I'll post another one, guys. smile.gif


EDIT: Yes, this is a sequel to The Conclusion, though it can be read as stand alone. It isn't necessary to read the script. In case you guys were wondering!


Chapter 2

I light a cigarette and look across to the mirror hanging above my dresser. A single photo sits on my dresser of Kelsey, smiling and arm-in-arm with someone I no longer recognize. He looks the same as the person staring back at me in the mirror, but much more vibrant. Youthful. Purposeful.


I drag myself off my bed and to the bathroom; scum lines the grout and a cockroach crawls into the shower drain. I sigh as I take a drag and pop open up a pill bottle. I dump a few capsules into my hand and toss back my head, swallowing hard.


I can hear my phone ringing in the kitchen, but it’s hollow and echoes inside my empty head. A scream pierces through the ceiling and I flinch. It’s not something I should be shocked or surprised by, given that my upstairs neighbor beats and rapes his wife daily, but it’s not something I enjoy hearing in the evening.


Tina’s name is on the caller ID and I pick up; I don’t really want my first words today to be with her.




“You never called me later.” She sounds pissed.


I pour myself a glass of whiskey and rub my forehead. I look at my watch and sigh.


“Okay? I’m sorry? Is that what you want to hear or something?” There’s chattering in the background and my head is killing me.


“If we’re going anywhere, I’d like to at least see you put in some sort of effort instead of just sitting around, smoking and drinking, and acting like an asshole.” She emphasizes the word ‘asshole’, thinking I’m going to be offended or get pissed off. She always likes looking to start sh*t.


“Meet me at Cheeks.” I hang up and pocket my phone. I finish my whiskey and grab my coat – a great way to start my evening.



Tina’s glowering at me as I wave down the waitress. She takes a drag from her cigarette and turns to look at the waitress prancing over. Her tits bounce in a way that would turn me on if it wasn’t for the fact I was so hung-over. She smiles at me and Tina.


“What can I get you two?”


I motion with my hand to Tina and take out my phone. A single text sits on the screen from Steven; asking to meet him at the café we talked in last. I pocket my phone as the waitress turns to me. “Whatever she’s having.”


“So two Old Fashioneds?”


“Yeah, but make mine with Bellut Rye.” I take out a cigarette and light it as the waitress walks away; her hips sway with each step and I can tell Tina is watching me watch her walk away.


“Should I go around making you drinks and dressing all provocatively? Will that make you look at me? Be interested?” She scoffs and leans back in her chair, turning to look at the stage as a band starts to set itself up.


I take a drag and watch the waitress lean over the bar to give the bartender our order. Her dress hikes up and I can see she’s wearing a blue thong. “Listen, some stuff came up from my past and I’ve been dealing with it. Okay. So just drop this whole thing you’re doing. You look like a child.”


The waitress comes over with the drinks and coasters. “Alright, I got two Old Fashioneds. One with Bellut Rye.” She puts the drinks on the table and smiles at us. “Anything else I can get you two?”


“No thanks.” I pick up my drink and take a sip as Tina resumes glaring at me.


She takes a drag and places the cigarette on the ashtray. “Yeah, let’s talk about your past, or lack thereof. I don’t think I’ve heard one thing about-”


“Enough, I don’t have to sit here and listen to you throw a fit.” I put out my cigarette and take a swig of my drink. I stand up and put my coat on as Tina picks up her cigarette.


“Typical. Always leaving. I’m getting tired of this, Victor. You come, you go. You call me to hang out, and then ditch me to run some mystery errands or meet up with people you don’t want to name. Aside from knowing your name, I know nothing else about you.” She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray and takes a sip of her drink. “Just go. Leave. Don’t bother calling me again. I don’t want to be some floozy you f*ck when convenient, if I’m even lucky that night.” She turns away.


I finish my drink and straighten my coat. I look at Tina then to the band then to the waitress. She’s leaning over the bar again, flirting with the bartender or placing an order, I can’t tell. This all seems so typical and I take out a cigarette.


“Whatever. By the way, my name’s not Victor.” And I leave her watching the band.



Steven’s late meeting me at the café. I look down at my watch and sigh as I lay my head back and let it rest on top of the seat. The same waitress from the last time I was here is working and takes a seat across from me. She leans over the table and smiles at me.


“You come here often. Order the same drink. Smoke the same brand of cigarette. What’s your story?”


I take a drag of my cigarette and motion with my hand to the box on the table. She takes one out and looks at me as the cigarette hangs between her lips. Her eyes were screaming ‘f*ck me’, which I will happily oblige if Steve doesn’t show up soon.


“Don’t have one.”


“Oh, come on.” She puts out her hand, palm up, and looks at my coat. “Lighter?”


I take the lighter out from my coat and light her cigarette. She takes a drag as she stretches and sticks her chest out at me; the buttons on her work uniform are nearly about to pop and reveal her busty Double D rack.


“My name’s Jeannine, by the way.” I watch her turn her head and look across the street to the flashing neon lights of some dump of a porn shop. She takes a drag and smiles at me. “You got a name?”


I lift up my glass and laugh into it. “I’ve gone by many names.”


“Choose one.”


“Roberto.” She doesn’t react and simply ashes her cigarette into the ashtray.


“Well, now I know what to call you when I serve you.” She stands up slowly, making sure her cleavage takes up my full attention. “I live up stairs. Apartment 4D. You should come by sometime.” She smiles and walks back to the bar.


I roll my neck and glance at my watch as the door to the café opens and Steven stumbles in. I can tell he’s unmanageably drunk and might have to endure another barrage of guilt trips and questions. I look over to Jeannine, her ass perfectly shaped in her tight little jeans and I consider her offer.


“You f*cking asshole, there you are.” Steven yells from two booths down, leaning and trying to keep his balance. “Where the f*ck have you been?”


I raise my glass to him. “Right here. You’re a little late. Forty minutes to be more precise.”


He haphazardly makes his way to my booth and throws himself into the seat, knocking the overhead light with his head. “f*ck, that hurt.” He rubs his head and waves down Jeannine.


“Where were you?” I take a sip as Jeannine makes her way back to the booth.


“Well, what can I get you?”


“Pack of ice and a scotch. Any. Neat.” He moans and she leaves, turning to me and winking. “Where was I? Where were you?”


“Right here. Waiting for you. You texted me.”


His face contorts as he looks around. “sh*t. sh*t! This café! f*ck. I must’ve stumbled into the wrong one earlier.”


“How much have you had to drink?”




“Drink.” I pick up my drink and sip. “How much?”


Jeannine returns and hands Steven a pack of ice while placing his drink on a napkin on the table. “Here you are.”


“Thanks.” She leaves and he places the icepack on his head. “Drink? sh*t, I don’t know.”


I roll my eyes and take a drag of my cigarette. Great. “So what was so urgent, you needed to meet me here again? You want to tell me more how I ruined your perfect life? You going to prod and ask about the past nineteen years? Are you going to beg again?”


He keeps the icepack in one hand as he picks up his scotch in the other. “No. I’m not, you f*ck.” He takes a sip. “Though if you’ve opened up…”


“No.” I’m losing interest more and more and the thought of having Jeannine pushed up against a wall is taking up my attention more and more.


“Fine.” He puts the icepack back on. “I need your help.”


I stand up and finish my drink in one gulp. “No.” I put on my coat and glare at him. “You really think I’d help? You’re crazy and drunk.” I take a drag and start to leave the café.


He grabs my wrist and tries to pull me back to the booth. “No, no, no. No. Listen. It’s not only me who needs you, Cassie needs you too.”


I stop and turn around. “Cassie? Who’s Cassie?”


He tilts his head and looks at me like I was a dog walking on its front two legs. “Are you joking?”


“No.” I finish my cigarette and put it out in the ashtray in the adjacent booth. “Who the f*ck is Cassie?”


“Come on. Seriously. She needs your help.”


“I’m not helping out some woman I don’t even know.” I pull my coat in and start to turn around.


“Cassie. Cassandra. Cassandra Garcia. You know, your f*cking daughter.”


I stop. I turn to him and I never knew that Kelsey was pregnant.

Edited by Cubanwhip

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There is so much win in this, it's overflowing with it. If you get lazy and quit half way through, I will actually smother you to death with taco shells.

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Vas der fick, Garcia? You better get back on this sh*te, brah.

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Story of Roberto's life. angry.gif

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Oh, I would've kept writing, but people kinda stopped responding. I can continue it though. Maybe?

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Have Mercy
Oh, I would've kept writing, but people kinda stopped responding. I can continue it though. Maybe?

Writers discussion is a slow forum.. Good work tho.. smile.gif

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Here's another one then. I know this forum is slow, but I didn't think it was this slow. I don't remember it being this slow four or so years back.


Chapter 3:


She grabs the pipe and takes a hit, the smell of pot filling the room and she hasn’t even put on her bra yet. Jeannine stands up, her arms stretched out to her sides like a gymnast keeping her balance. She takes a few steps from the bedside and turns her torso, smiling at me as the smoke slowly pours out of her mouth.


“So, you don’t smoke?” Her body was curvy the way I remember Kelsey’s; a neat hourglass that my hand outlined beneath the sheets as she screamed for mercy. “If you’d rather have a drink, there’s some bourbon in the kitchen.”


I stand up and grab my pants, slipping them on and grabbing the pack of cigarettes out. “It’s not that I don’t smoke. It’s that I’d rather drink more times than not.” I light a cigarette and make my way to her kitchen as she trails behind me.


She carries the pipe and lighter with her, holding it close to her bare chest, cradling it like the child she wants but can’t have. “Last night was fun, though.” She takes another hit and grabs a seat at the counter next to the kitchen. “I don’t usually go for older guys.”


I grab the bourbon and pour it into a short glass. I leave the bottle open as I sip from the glass. “Hey, I’m not that old.”


“I’d say, judging from your clothes an demeanor, you have to be at least fifty, or near there.” She giggles and covers her mouth.


I roll my eyes and take another sip and another drag from my cigarette. I look past her and out the far window of her apartment, the smog of Liberty City a blanket over the city. Cars honk loudly, a gunshot rings from some blocks down; people change and time may pass, but this city will always be like this. “I’m forty.”


“Well, so sorry.” She takes another hit. “Regardless, you’re still an animal in bed and you’ve aged pretty well.” Her hand moves from the pipe and slides across the counter until it rests on top of my hand.


I finish the glass and pour another, this time closing the bottle and placing it back next to the microwave. “Thanks.” I move my hand and make my way back to her room. I place the glass on the dresser and pick up my button up from the chair and start to get dressed.


“I hope we can do this again, soon.” She leans against the door frame, flicking the lighter on and off, staring at me through half closed eyes. “You know where I work and live.” She laughs and moves in, putting a hand on my inner left thigh.


“Yeah, maybe. I got to go do something first, though.” I finish buttoning my shirt and grab my tie, moving back over to her dresser and looking into the mirror perched above it. “Next time I’m at the café.”


“Is that later today?” She’s clingy and I know that this may be the last time I see her, so I better just play it nice and find a new café to regular. “I’ll be working until two tonight. So just meet me back up here. Promise?”


I finish my tie and pick up my drink, finishing it in one sip. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you around.” I grab my jacket and head out of her place, the fresh, smog air a welcome change from her pot drenched apartment.





“Hey, you’re not pussying out, right? You’re actually going to help me?”


I sigh into the phone as I make my way down the stairs into the subway, people all around rushing and pushing past me to get down to the fleeting trains.


“Yeah. But I’m not helping you. I’m doing this for Cassie, if she even really exists.”


“She exists, she exists. Don’t worry. Just meet me at Bush Stadium.”


“You mean Bush Memorial Stadium? Liberty City hasn’t hosted a game in nearly a decade.”


Steven sighs heavily. “Yes, Memorial. Whatever. Just meet me there, and we’ll drive over to Shoreside. Alright?”


I slip my metro card into the turnstile and make my way down the subway corridor, following the signs to the uptown train. “Yeah, I got it. Meet you there.” I hang up and pull out a cigarette, people glaring as I light it up. Smoking isn’t allowed down here and I shouldn’t be trying to garner attention, but when you find out the daughter-you-didn’t-know-you-had has been kidnapped by some low level drug dealers because some asshole you knew owed them money and used her as collateral, you tend to want a cigarette to bring yourself into a calm and Zen like state.


I stand, waiting for the train to arrive as people continue to give me looks from behind their newspapers and cellphones; all that same disapproving look, the kind a mother or father gives when their child grows up to be a drug addled criminal. An embarrassment.


The train arrives and I throw my cigarette onto the floor, crushing the butt with my heel and twisting it slightly. I make my way onto the train and grab onto one of the ceiling rails; stuck between a fat, black man in his mid-thirties who’s sweating profusely and carrying a paper bag of groceries, and a college-aged kid with headphones stuck in his ears, audibly playing some crap pop music from the radio. I rub my temples and sigh before I look ahead and catch someone staring at me.


Do they recognize me? They squint at me and their head slightly cocks to the side. I turn my head to look behind me, but the only person behind me is an old lady cradling her Golden Labradoodle puppy. I turn back and the man is standing in front of me, still squinting, and his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.


“You look familiar. Do I know you?” He rubs his stubble.


I nervously smile and shrug. “I just have one of those faces, I guess, or something. Sometimes people think I look like-” But he cuts me off.


“Roberto? Is that you?” He takes off his beanie and his dirty blonde hair messily fall across his forehead and covers his left eye. “No way is it you. You’re dead.”


I chuckle nervously and look around. Everyone else is disinterested and paying attention to their own things; cell phones, music players, Sudoku puzzles, their hands. “I really don’t know who that is…”


“Roberto! It is you! It’s me!” His face lights up in disbelief. He grabs me by my shoulders and shakes me. “It’s Dylan!”



I pick up the phone and call Steven. It ten o’clock at night, four hours after the meet-up time, and he doesn’t pick up.


“Not picking up?” Dylan takes a sip of his coffee and continues looking at me, his eyes not trailing away.


“Yeah…” I place the phone on the table and look over at the waitress standing at the cash register. “Look, I’m sorry.”


“Sorry for what?” He puts down his coffee and leans back into the booth seat. “Sorry for abandoning your fiancée and best friend? Your pregnant fiancée at that. Your father, your life. Sorry for that?”


I put my head in my hands and moan, shaking it side to side. “I had to do it, Dylan. I couldn’t keep going on the way I was going. Being reckless, continuously being dragged down into stupid sh*t. If I continued being alive the way I was, I was going to either end up actually dead by some criminal, or the nation was going to have me killed on death row.” I slammed my hands on the table. “I didn’t have many choices.”


“So what have you been doing then, huh?” He took another sip. “Just living a secret, quite life? Why couldn’t you just do that with us? Just come back to us, instead of slipping away into obscurity.”


“I couldn’t come back to you guys. Me being around you guys would’ve put you in danger, the way I always had put you guys in danger. I just couldn’t keep doing that.” I lean back and look around the diner, all the disinterested waitresses were smoking cigarettes against the behest of the ‘no smoking’ signs plastered all over the diner. I take one out and light it as Dylan glares through the smoke.


“You’re too nice.” His sarcasm hurt. “f*cking coffee is stale.” He lifted his cup and turned to a waitress serving a booth two behind us. “Can I get some coffee that isn’t disgusting in this god damn diner?”


She nodded her head and lifted one finger towards him. “One moment, sir. I’ll be right with you.”


He turned back around, disgruntled and stared straight down at his coffee. His arms were crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “A phone call would’ve been nice.”


I take a drag and lean forward. “I’m sorry. I should’ve but I didn’t. I was so scared. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you guys, and I thought even you knowing I was alive would still be dangerous. You know, if anyone came asking or such. But Cassie is in trouble.” I take a drag and Dylan continues looking down at his coffee. “Are you sure you have no idea where she is?”


“Look, Roberto. Although you’re nineteen years too late to show any type of concern for your daughter, I don’t know where she is. She goes to LCCC and lives on campus, after me and Kelsey found some of your money lying around. We thought it was the least her dead father could do for her. She rarely visits home and just stays over there.”


The waitress walks over from the other booth and grabs Dylan’s coffee. “Regular or decaf?”


“Regular. Black. Thanks.” He holds his hands and looks at me.


“Then I’m going to LCCC and looking for her.”


Dylan laughs. “You’re going? And how are you going to find her? Ask one of the thirty thousand kids wandering the campus where Cassandra Garcia lives? Please. If you’re going to go, I’m going to help you find her if she’s really in trouble.”


“Why you?” I take a drag and the waitress brings Dylan back his coffee.


“Why me? Cause I’m married to her mother. As far as she's concerned, I’m her father.” And for the first time during this entire conversation, I noticed the ring on his finger.

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El Zilcho

God f*cking damn it this is sexy. It's so smooth and fluid, it reads like an eel squishing though lubricated pipework. I don't know where I got that analogy from, nor why I used, but I do know one thing - this is damn good. I won't dive into excessive literary reasoning behind my love for this as it is a quarter to 4 in the morning, but I may at a later date. I also need to finish off the next two parts you've put up, I'm currently too tired for it.


Keep this up.

Edited by El Zilcho

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Mokrie Dela

I'm afraid the "tie ins" as mentioned are over my head - I can tell it's referencing something, but what that is i don't know.

On its own merit though, i find it intriguing. I'm not going to pretend it's the best thing i've ever read, but it's certainly far from the worst. It kind of left me wanting more, and i found it enjoyable.


I have one issue with it, and that was the one mention of "pisswaser" - it makes this fanfiction (which i'm a supporter of) but I find myself asking why. I'm assuming it's to do with the tie in, which would dictate that it has to be fanfiction



good work nonetheless.

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I'm afraid the "tie ins" as mentioned are over my head - I can tell it's referencing something, but what that is i don't know.

On its own merit though, i find it intriguing. I'm not going to pretend it's the best thing i've ever read, but it's certainly far from the worst. It kind of left me wanting more, and i found it enjoyable.


I have one issue with it, and that was the one mention of "pisswaser" - it makes this fanfiction (which i'm a supporter of) but I find myself asking why. I'm assuming it's to do with the tie in, which would dictate that it has to be fanfiction



good work nonetheless.

About seven years ago he wrote the most attention garnered story on this forum. He's just decided now to continue it on. inlove.gif

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Mokrie Dela

Ah I see


If anyone has a link ill check it out smile.gif

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Grand Theft Auto: 'The Conclusion' by Cubanwhip.



By today's standards, Roberto's old writings can't even compare to his more modern ones, but it's still one of the most influential pieces of fan-fiction I've ever read. Also, notable is the fact that Tony Zimmzy's Heart City series of gamescripts is, in fact, part of the same universe as The Conclusion. Read all of those as well, because they're the best gamescripts that will ever be released; Tony as well improves greatly as a writer in each successive story.

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I was so bad. Sophomore in high school. I am ashamed. Game script? INCONCEIVABLE.

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Mokrie Dela
Grand Theft Auto: 'The Conclusion' by Cubanwhip.



By today's standards, Roberto's old writings can't even compare to his more modern ones, but it's still one of the most influential pieces of fan-fiction I've ever read. Also, notable is the fact that Tony Zimmzy's Heart City series of gamescripts is, in fact, part of the same universe as The Conclusion. Read all of those as well, because they're the best gamescripts that will ever be released; Tony as well improves greatly as a writer in each successive story.

You're a legend, thanks.


I am indeed reading HC. My fanfic is as of today complete so I'm gonna take some times to read more!

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I recently re-read up to the middle of TC at work before I actually had to start doing work again. It still reminds me of why I started writing and is still one of, if not the best III-era fan fics made, even if it is script format that was written on the go.

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Sorry for the stupid delay. I've been having a stupid rollercoaster social life an I'm also graduating college end of the month, so school work has been piling up. I did manage to write a few chapters though, which are a bit longer. So enjoy!


Chapter 4

Dylan punches me in the arm and says, “We’re here looking for your damn daughter. Stop looking at every ass that walks by.” He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets.


“Alright, Jesus.” I shake my shoulder and we keep walking along the campus. Students bustle by quickly with their heads looking to the ground, headphones stuck in their ears. The buildings are washed away. They’re this off gray that may have once been white, but from a lack of up keep, now reflect fifty shades of sh*t. I turn to look at Dylan.


“Where are we going then? Because as far as I can tell, we’re just wandering through campus not asking a damn thing.” I pad my jacket and realize I left my cigarettes back on the table in the diner. “Dammit, I forgot my cigarettes.”


“Buy more later. You need to quit anyways.” He pulls out a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Windom House. That’s all the information I have. If we have packages or letters to send, we just send them to there with her name and she picks it up in the lobby.”


I shake my head and laugh. “She lives in a dorm?”


Dylan grins. “Not really. She’s in a sorority.”


I stop dead in my tracks and look at Dylan. No way did my daughter grow up to be some dumb sorostitute. “I’m sorry, what? She’s in a what?”


“A sorority. Oh yeah, I forgot, you never did go to college, so you wouldn’t know.” Dylan turns around to see me standing a few feet back. “Oh please, stop being so melodramatic.” He walks over and grabs me by my arm.


“Get the hell off me!” I pull back my arm and he lets go, raising his hands and taking a few steps back. “My daughter did not grow up to be some floozy, air headed, vodka swilling, cock eating sorority whore.”


“Oh really?” Dylan laughs and puts his hands down. “Mr. Roberto Garcia is so indignant here because his daughter joined a sorority and might be sucking down a few too many vodka tonics and dicks. Never mind the fact that he was once a mass murderer. Or the fact he faked his own death and abandoned his family. Oh no, that’s all fine. But god forbid she decides to join a f*cking stupid sorority.” Dylan walks over really close and puts his face up against mine. “Let alone that you still call her your daughter when you weren’t even there for her birth, you selfish prick.” He pokes at my chest on the last three words. “It’s been nineteen years. What right do you have, now, to spring up into our lives again after we’ve thought you were dead? Huh?”


Dylan turns around and starts off in the opposite direction we were headed. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I turn to look at him.


He turns around, walking backwards with his arms up. “Home. To my wife. I honestly don’t think anything’s wrong and you’re just trying to weasel your way back into your old niche. Goodbye. It’s nice to see that assholes will always be assholes.” And with that, Dylan left me.


A few students stop to gawk at the dispute, but I shrug them off and continue on through campus. I pull out my phone and attempt to call Steven for the fiftieth time, but still no response. He never showed up to the meet-up at the stadium and now he’s not taking any calls. He’s probably drunk in a gutter somewhere in downtown Staunton. I pocket the phone and walk over to a directory nearby. Half of it is torn down, and the other half is riddled with various graffiti such as “LIBERTY COCKS RULE”. I shake my head and notice a girl sitting and smoking a cigarette . I walk over to her with my hands buried in my coat pockets.


“Hey, you mind if I can bum a cigarette? Left my pack in a diner halfway across town.” I shrug and look off into the distance.


“Yeah, sure old man.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a silver case that pops open. She pulls out a hand rolled cigarette along with a flip lighter.


“Thanks.” I light the cigarette and hand her back the lighter. “Hey, I noticed the directory is kind of not in the best shape and I’m trying to find Windom House.”


“One of those whores give you a case of the crabs?” She chuckles to herself and leans back, taking a drag.


I imagine my daughter laughing with those sorority whores and being riddled with every STD imaginable. I shut my eyes and try to imagine what she would look like. Did she have my black hair and Kelsey’s straight locks? Were her eyes brown or green? Did she keep herself fit or let herself go? If she’s in a sorority, I can at least assume she has to be moderately attractive, and I don’t know if I’m okay with that.




I open my eyes and see her leaning forward. “What? Sorry.”


She spreads her legs and makes a scratching motion. “Did someone get a little bit of the scratchy scratchy?”


“No.” I take a drag. “Are they known for that or something?”


“Eta Lambda Zeta?” She laughs. “Yeah, you must be new here.” She stands up and stomps out her cigarette. “It’s right down that way.” She points. “The one with the pink banners; some half assed attempt to make their house pretty and stand out.” She steps in closer and whispers in my ear. “Word of advice though, I’d steer clear of them. There’s a reason HvZ gets the nickname HPV.” She laughs and walks away.


I take a drag of my cigarette and watch her walk away, her jeans hugging her thin legs. Her black hair comes down to the mid of her back and walks distinctly with one foot in front of the other. I only hope to maybe run into her later; buy her a few drinks and see where the night would take us.


I turn around and start heading towards where she pointed out Windom House was.



“I’m sorry, no one, like, lives here that goes by that name.” The bubble gum pop blonde snaps her gum in my face and continues thumbing through her magazine. She twirls her hair with one finger and snaps the gum again.


I lean in more over the desk. “Listen, I know my daughter is in this sorority and lives in this house. Just open your directory and take a look.”


“I’m sorry, mister, but I know all my fellow sisters, and the name Cassandra Garcia does not ring a bell.” She looks back down into her magazine.


I slam my fist onto the counter and she snaps up with a squeal. “Can I please speak to your big sister or big mother. Den mother. I don’t know what it’s called. The leader of this dumb pack of bimbo idiots.”


Her mouth went slack. “You listen here. If you think I’m gonna, like, just sit here and take this, you got another thing coming.” She picks up the phone. “I’m calling campus police.”


I laugh. “Campus police? What are they going to do? Wag their finger at me?”


“What’s going on here?” A woman enters the lobby at that moment. Her hair is pinned up and her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. “Is there a problem here?”


“Oh! Sarah! Thank God you’re here! This man is raising his voice and being overly aggressive.” She hangs the phone up and covers her face with her hands. “He is, like, being so awful and rude to me!” She starts to cry, but I know crocodile tears when I hear them. I roll my eyes and the woman comes up to me.


“Stop harassing the sisters or I will be forced to call the police.”


I chuckle again. “The police or campus police?”


“LCPD. They are not as forgiving as the campus police and you’ll wish she continued with that call.” She straightens herself out and tries to stand tall to give off some power stance.


I raise my hands in surrender. “Alright, you win. I’ll leave. I just want to know if my daughter lives here. That’s all I wanted to know.”


The girl behind the desk stops crying and pipes up. “I told him we have no sister here by that name, but he wouldn’t listen!” And then she resumed crying.


The woman raises an eyebrow. “Okay. What’s her name?”


“It’s Cassandra. Cassandra Garcia.”


“I’m sorry, but I know every residents name and no one lives here by that name. Now if you’ll please leave.” She walks towards the front door and holds it open.


I throw my head back in frustration. “Are you sure? I swear she lived here. Cassandra. Please?”


“Cassandra?” A girl walks through the lobby and stops upon hearing the name. “I remember Cassandra.”


I turn to look at the girl. “You do? Does she live here?”


She approaches me and tilts her head to the side while looking up. “No, she never did. She tried rushing here, but I wouldn’t say she really tried. She kinda showed up and had this off-putting attitude. We had a few conversations. She told me she was only rushing cause her mom told her it was a great way to make friends. She never came off as the type to have friends.” She shrugged. “But yeah, she never even made it in Eta Lambda Zeta.”


I smile and look back at the woman holding open the door. “Well thank God for that. Excuse me.”



I take a seat in the nearby campus bar and flag down the bartender. He’s too busy trying to score extra tips and maybe extra tail by prioritizing the group of girls at the other end of the bar. I sigh and someone jumps into the seat next to me.


“So, get some hot, STD riddled snatch?” She laughs.


It’s the same girl from earlier, but her hair is now tied into pig tails. She has on a parka and now is wearing khakis. Her make-up is applied slightly heavy, extra black eye shadow and the raccoon eyes stereotyped to the ‘scene’ scene. Her lips, though, have no trace of lipstick and her nails are unpainted.


“No. Was just looking for someone.” I try to flag down the bartender again.


“Is your daughter in there? Was she tempted over to the Whore-Side.” She laughs and stands up, leaning over the counter, her cleavage about to burst from her tight tank top. She grabs two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “I hope you’re a whiskey man.”


“Indeed I am.” She pours each of us a drink. “You know, you look kind of young to be in a college bar.”


She leans in close to me and raises her eyebrows. “Maybe cause I am kind of young to be in college bars.” She snickers and returns to sitting. “Most underage kids got fakes. Get with the times.” She takes a sip and grabs a nearby ashtray. “And what about you? You seem kind of old to be sleazing around sorority houses and college bars. You teach?”


“I told you, I was looking for someone.” I take a sip and run my finger along the rim of the glass.


“Right, right.” She takes out a cigarette and lights it. “So, what are you? Like fifty or something?”


I sigh and take another sip. “Why does everybody always have to ask that? Does it matter?”


“Well, sorry. Was just trying to make conversation.” She offers me the pack of cigarettes. “You want one or have you picked up a pack since?”


I take a cigarette and grab her lighter. “Thanks.” I take a drag and drop the lighter on the counter between us, next to the pack of cigarettes. “Then how old are you if you need a fake to get in here?”


She throws her head back and laughs. “God, why does everybody always have to ask that? Does it matter?” She turns her head to me and winks.


“For me it might. I don’t want to wind up in jail or anything.”


“Well look at you. Mr. Confidence. You think you’re getting lucky with me?” She lifts the glass up to her lips and licks it with her tongue before taking a sip.


I turn in the stool to face her and take a drag of my cigarette. She mirrors me and we both smile.

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This is gonna be a beautifully, amazing tale of incest. I can feel it. Feel it in my loins. Let's do this sh*t! Where's dat dere other chapter?!

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Damn fine read, Cuban. Can't wait to see where you take it, but you had better not flake out and not finish this, or I will join in on Tony's ultimatum involving taco shells.

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Don't tease me with the promise of taco shell smotherings, or I may flake out for it. wink.gif Here's Chapter 5. I'm hoping for a few more replies before I post Chapter 6. But thank you for the replies so far! As a reiteration, this is kind of a fan-fiction, in that it is a sequel to my script, but takes on a much more original path and only has some subtle references to GTA, like locations and maybe a character or two. There are some references to the script, though most of what needs to be known is explained.


Chapter 5

I remember Kelsey. Don’t get me wrong, she was the love of my life, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices - sacrifices that might mean leaving them for the betterment of their lives.


The moments after the explosion on Starfish were nothing but ringing and smoke. I remember the floor collapsing beneath me and Catalina attempting to shoot me, the bullets grazing past me and slicing my right shoulder as she fell first through the floor.


I remember waking up to the sound of helicopters and a searing pain in my leg. I threw off the rubble that had collapsed on my lower body and tried to stand, but I knew my left leg was broken. I saw Catalina impaled through the chest by a plank of wood with a look of horror on her face. I limped over and shut her eyes, wincing with each step. I picked up her Python and surveyed the destruction around me.


The mansion was indistinguishable from what it used to be. It was a palette of gray and black, smoke making everything fifteen feet away hazy and distorted. My hands were scraped and bleeding and the pain in my leg worsened with each climb over broken plaster and concrete.


I could smell the searing and singed flesh from henchmen and police alike, all the same now. I coughed on the smoke and managed to push away a slab of teetering concrete that revealed the blue sky and clear waters of Vice. Land was blown away and water was rushing up to meet the decimated site of the old mansion. I coughed again and fell into the water, letting it wash me.


I sunk deeper into the water, the hand loosening its grip and dropping the gun. I opened my eyes underneath and watched the outline of the gun sink deeper and deeper into the water, being swallowed into its depths. I closed my eyes and let the cool water clean me and relieve all the pain.



I wake up, slowly, with the sun coming between the blinds. I pull the sheets over my head and feel a similar movement beside me. An arm is thrown over and a body presses up, tight and naked. I push away and sit up, rubbing my eyes and reaching towards the night stand for her pack of cigarettes. I light one up and rub my forehead.

She moans and turns away, facing the windows and covering her face with her hands.


“Why are you up so damn early?” She curls into the fetal position and pulls the covers over.


I stand up and stretch, ashing the cigarette into the stolen bar ash tray on the night stand. I pick up my under wear and pants and pull them on. I roll my neck, the bones cracking and I really could use a drink.


She slowly peaks up from behind the covers, squinting to hold back the light. “You already leaving? It’s only,” she turns and grabs her cell phone, lighting up the screen. “It’s only 9:30.”


I grab my shirt from her desk chair and button it up while looking in her dresser mirror. “I told you, I have to find someone. Or do you not remember that from last night?”


She chuckles quietly and draws a circle with her finger in the sheets on her stomach. “I don’t remember a lot of things from last night.” She finally looks up with her eyes wide open. “So is this like a one night thing?”


I finish buttoning up and grab my blazer. “Afraid so. Once I find out where my daughter is, I’m gone.”


“Sounds like she’s in trouble or something.” She rolls in the bed towards the night stand and grabs at the pack of cigarettes.


“That’s what I’m told.” I reach down and grab my watch off the dresser when something catches my attention. A photo. “Oh no.”


She lights up and looks over as I take a step back. “What?”


“Oh Christ no. Oh no.” I take another step back and fall into her desk chair. I grab my head with my hands and plunge it between my knees. This can’t be. It couldn’t.


She slowly stands up and the sheets fall away from her naked body. She comes over, smoking, and puts her arm on my shoulder. “Hey, are you okay there?”


I flinch when she touches me and I stand up in a flurry. “Oh Jesus, just put on some clothes.” I take off and throw her my jacket, turning away. “No. No no no no.”


“What the f*ck, man. You weren’t saying that last night.” She stands there indignant and I can hear the blazer hitting the floor. “The hell’s gotten into you?”


“Is that your family?” I point to the photo on the dresser. “Just put on some damn clothes.”


She puts the cigarette in her mouth and walks to her closet, slipping on a pair of jeans and a plaid button over-shirt. “Yeah, it is. So what?”


I turn around and stare at her. “Oh, put on a damn bra.” I pick my blazer up in a fluster and take drags from the cigarette until the embers are heaving fire into my lungs through the filter.


“What the hell is the matter with you? Is this how you act every time you sleep with a college student and find out you might be old enough to be their dad?” She shakes her head and walks to her dresser, pulling out a bra.


“No. Not unless it turns out I am their father.”



Cassandra throws me down the steps outside of her apartment building, and tosses my keys, wallet, and cellphone at me. “Get the f*ck out of here, you psycho.”


I moan and try to turn around, but she’s shut the door and up the stairs. I lay my head on the floor and close my eyes trying to comprehend what has just happened.


I went to LCCC to try and track down my daughter after finding out from Steven she was in danger and wind up making a huge mistake. I need a shower.


I stand up and grab my things, shoving them into my pockets and see a hole-in-the-wall grocery store across the street. I quickly jog over and walk in, rubbing my head and avoiding eye contact with the cashier. Obviously he doesn’t know what just happened, but I feel so dirty and guilty, I feel everyone is staring and judging me for it.


“Pack of Guanaco Bolds and matches.” I rub the back of my head and the cashier drops the pack of cigarettes with matches on the counter. He raises an eyebrow and I drop seven dollars on the counter before heading out and thanking him.


Outside, I pull out my phone and notice a single text from Steven:


Meet me at the café. Tonight.


I groan and shout, “God dammit!” A few people around turn their heads suddenly out of surprise. I ignore them and tear open my pack, taking out a cigarette and lighting one. “I need a f*cking drink.”



I twirl the Old Fashioned with a stirrer, and watch the twists of orange and lemon bump against the ice and cherry. I lean over and rub my temples before the bar tender comes over, cleaning a glass.


“Hey, I see you managed to snag Cassie.” He says this with a smirk.


I look up at him behind half closed eyes and a grimace. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”


He laughs and breaths into the glass. “Nothing. I’m just saying I see her in here a lot, usually in that booth over there.” He nods over to a corner booth. “Any guy that even tries to come up to her ends up leaving with his tail between his legs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her leave this bar with anyone. Well, that was until I saw she approached you. That was a first.”


“Saw?” I laugh. “I’m surprised since you were too busy with your group of whores in the corner.”


He returns the laugh and picks up another glass. “Hey man, it’s all part of the job. We have to make a living somehow and drunk sluts tip well. And if I get some action out of it, well,” he smiles at his own comment. “Well, you just go with it.”


“So she’s never gone back home with anyone?” I take a sip and pull over a nearby ashtray.


He puts down the glass and braces himself on the bar, looking up and thinking. “Not any of the times I’ve seen her here, and she’s here a lot. She just sits in the corner with her whiskey and cigarettes and people watches; at least that’s what I see. Always assumed she had some long distance thing going on, which is why she’s always sending away guys.” He looks at my drink. “Not many people come in and order Old Fashioneds.”


I light a cigarette and take a large sip of my drink. “Not many people know how to make them. Usually I end up just getting whiskey on the rocks.”


“Must be why she took a liking to you.” He grabs a glass and throws two ice cubes in it. “Most college bar tenders don’t need to know it. Most of the students that come through here just want a beer or a simple coke and rum or some drink like that. I, myself, enjoy Old Fashioneds. Something about the bitterness and citrus combination really speaks to me.” He drops a brown sugar cube and a few dashes of bitters into the glass and begins to muddle.


My phone vibrates and a text from Tina comes up; something about being sorry and wanting to see me and talk to me. Asking if I can meet her at her place in ten. I respond telling her I’d meet her in an hour.


“Cassie?” The bar tender asks, finishing up pouring bourbon into his glass.


“No, someone else.” I finish the drink and slip a ten on the table. “Thanks for the drink.”


He grabs the money and pockets it. “No problem, man. Nice chatting with you.”



Tina is drunk by two in the afternoon and crying in my arms. The moment she opened her door, her eyes were wet and mine were rolling. This isn’t the first time she’s done it.


“I’m sorry for being such a bitch.” She wipes her eyes with her arm and walks into her kitchen, grabbing another glass and pouring bourbon into it and hers. “I’ve just been going through some personal things.”


I take the glass when she finishes pouring. “Join the club, Tina.” I take a swig and make my way around the corner and grab a seat.


She sits next to me and crosses her legs, looking across the living room and out the window, towards the visible skyline of downtown Staunton. “I know you don’t like talking about you. But you said your name wasn’t Victor.”


I move the glass in my palm and let the bourbon spin. “It isn’t. I don’t like giving out my real name, a lot.”


She stands up with her back towards me and walks to the window. She puts her head against the glass and takes a sip, looking down at the street. “Sometimes I do the same. I don’t know. Something about you, I just couldn’t trust you.”


I smirk at my glass and take a sip. You can’t trust anyone anymore. “So, I’m guessing your name’s not Tina, then?”


“It’s Bridgette.”


“At least you’re saying it’s Bridgette, right now.” I stand up and finish the drink. I walk back into the kitchen and fill my glass with more liquor. “You’ve opened up the door of dishonesty.” I close the bottle and lift the glass to my lips. “Why am I here? I have things to deal with, too.”


She turns around and looks at me, her eyes wet again. She puts her glass down on the coffee table and walks over to the counter. “I missed you.” She leans against it, reaching over to me. “Even if you were lying.”


I pull away from her and take a sip. “Please. You’re drunk.”


She reaches further across the counter and grabs my wrist. “Victor. Whoever, please. I really did miss you.”


I yank my arm away and put down the glass. “Get the hell off me. You complain on not wanting to be some skank who’s only good for a one night stand, yet here you are, calling me drunk in the afternoon to proclaim how much you missed me? Are you going to tell me you love me now, too?”


She starts crying again and lies on the counter. I roll my eyes and start walking towards the door. I turn to look at her, and she’s a crying mess. She screams and grabs the bottle of bourbon, throwing it at me. I duck and the bottle slams against the door, shards of glass and bourbon littering the floor.


“You bastard!”


I straighten my blazer and glare at her. Who does she think she is to throw such a tantrum and how many times do I have to deal with being assaulted and thrown out of places in one day? I shake my head at her.


“Good bye, Tina. Or Brigette. Whoever you are. I’m done with you and your stupid lying. I’m done with this. I have a daughter to think about.” And with that, I leave Tina a drunken mess in her apartment.



I walk into the café and it’s fairly empty. Jeannine isn’t working, but I spot Steven sitting at in the usual booth. I approach and take a seat, lighting a cigarette. He looks down at his drink and doesn’t acknowledge me sitting down.


“You haven’t gotten back to me. What happened?” I lean back and look at him sternly. He keeps his head down and refuses to look up. “Hello? You there?”


“I’m sorry.” He mumbles this, barely audible.


“What did you say there, Steven? Couldn’t hear you.” I lean forward and take a drag. “Speak up you snake.”


“I said I’m sorry.” And then I heard a gun hammer click.


I sit up straight and feel the barrel against the back of my head. I calm myself down. How did I not see this coming? Steven not responding for a few days. Steven standing me up. It was all leading up to a set-up, but who wanted me? I run a list through my head, trying to think of anyone alive that would want me. Toreno died in a plane crash. Catalina died that day in the explosion. I didn’t know, but did I want to know?


Steven finally looked up, his left eye a purple mass; it looked fresh, but layered, like he had been beaten several times over days. He looks at me with a sad expression and stands up, leaving the bar. I keep thinking and thinking, but no names come to mind.


“Mr. Garcia, it’s been a while. Glad you can visit us from the grave for this.” And I knew who it was.

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Thought the incest scene was part of the flash backs sad.gif bad times. After catching up with you on Bookface the other day, this all sounds somewhat eerily similar to your actual life hahaha......................










...Incest included.

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As with almost all my writing, facets of my life become part of it. The raging alcoholism and cigarettes are definitely pulled from me, along with my distrust and general malice towards women, but you know of why recently. I have enjoyed writing this. More than I have with most writing recently, which is why the chapters are long and I post them more frequently now. I'd just like some feedback every once in a while.




But naw, fo real, shiz.

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Gah, I love the way you reel me in with just enough to get excited, then you cut it short for the next post. Serialized motherf*cker, you. I'm loving the ride so far, though the name dropping does seem out of place for this piece, I understand that it's a sequel to a large, encompassing story about all of the III-era being concluded, so it's fair enough. Once again, great stuff dude, I'm glad you're around and writing again.

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Gah, I love the way you reel me in with just enough to get excited, then you cut it short for the next post. Serialized motherf*cker, you. I'm loving the ride so far, though the name dropping does seem out of place for this piece, I understand that it's a sequel to a large, encompassing story about all of the III-era being concluded, so it's fair enough. Once again, great stuff dude, I'm glad you're around and writing again.

I just felt like returning to the characters I had created in the original script and seeing how they have progressed in 19 years. The only problem was that they lived in a GTA world. I felt like just taking those characters and writing something completely new, but being a GTA forum, a fan-fic is more likely to be read than something original, sadly. So I just wrote this with enough tie-ins to be considered a fan-fic, while still being as original as it can. The plot and, so far all the characters, are original. I'm still debating on whether to bring in GTA characters, or to bring them in, but have the time change radically change them. I haven't figured it out. I just wish more peeps read. sad.gif

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There is so much win in this, it's overflowing with it. If you get lazy and quit half way through, I will actually smother you to death with taco shells.



...Better start scraping out the minced meat and grilled cheese now. sneaky2.gif

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