(I Do Not Own Rockstar Games, The Grand Theft Auto License, Or Anything Else In This Story.)
Claude got his gun out of the drawer and cocked the hammer. He shuffled around the small room for extra clips. He found the three he was looking for and put them in his pocket.
The sirens a few blocks away warned Claude that they found him. He knew this day was coming: the day they put all the pieces together.
This would be the part that he would probably see his childhood flash before his eyes but he didn't really remember anything.
The sirens got louder. He dropped the gun and took off his leather jacket. He put on the bulletproof vest he had recently got from some kid in the alley near Luigi's club.
He only had on his jeans, white T-shirt, and the vest covering the shirt. He picked up the gun again and tore the place apart for his keys to his stolen cop-car in his garage with the bomb in it.
"Get on the ground!" the cop had screamed. Claude pulled out his Mac-10 and pointed it at the cop. "W-what the hell kid? You know how long you're gonna be in jail for that? YOUR CRAZY!" the officer had struggled to get out of his lungs.
But that was what Claude had done it for. He was like an adrenaline fiend. He had robbed the man in front of everyone just so the cop would see. Now the pig took the bait.
Claude tried to laugh but his throat refused to. He shot at the cop's head and his brains flew all over the car window.
He heard women scream and people were running. Claude through the cop to the floor and opened the door. The keys were still in the ignition so Claude turned it on, jumped in, hit the gas, and closed the door.
Luckily, he was right in front of 8-Ball's place so he just pulled up there and spotted 8-Ball with his sniper out. "What the was that, man? Was that you?"
8-Ball realized that it had to be because of the blood spot on the driver's side window. "Oh my GOD, dude! That…that BETTER a' not been a 5-0 or…man…that…DOE…! Why would you do—?"
Claude honked the horn and 8-Ball hit the ground. Claude tried to laugh—but once again—his lungs wouldn't let him.
8-Ball was mad. He shot out a headlight. Claude's attitude to the subject quickly changed from humorous to serious.
"Don't ever do that again or I'll aim at your face--," 8-Ball was interrupted by the sound of several sirens. "Oh…man…Hey! Get off my property!" 8-Ball screamed at Claude. Claude pointed to the garage door. 8-Ball thought for a few moments and gave Claude the cue to drive into the garage.
8-ball opened the garage and Claude drove onto the silver platform. 8-Ball closed the garage door and the light flickered on. He grabbed a black, square bomb from the bottom of one of his tool cabinets.
After a few minutes of 8-Ball flying back and forth from the car and all of his tool cabinets like a speed addict, Claude got out of the car and handed 8-Ball $1,000 in tens. 8-Ball's hands were covered in black grease and oil so the money got messed up. "Ah ... money's money, nah'mean?" 8-Ball said. Claude half-grinned and nodded. He was going to laugh but...yeah, I'm not gonna say it.
Claude opened the car door and got in. After closing it, he put the key into the ignition and started the engine. He drove off to his hideout.
(No The Introduction Isn't Done Yet, But Until It Is, Look Out For My Halo Story…Which I Also Don't Own Any Licenses For.)