Grand Theft Auto 3.2
Mr Johnston set the alarm on the bank, closed the front door and locked it behind him. He buttoned his jacket up to the top and put his brown hat on. He started off down the long, wet and very busy midnight street to his house. Not two minutes after locking up, he realised he had forgotten his briefcase. It was in his office, under the desk where he always kept it. He sighed and began walking at a faster pace back to the bank of Liberty City. He dug deep into his jacket pocket and pulled out the keys.
He found the right one and put it in the lock. As soon as he did, he felt an overwhelming amount of heat from under the door.
"No, not a fire!" he thought.
He was right. No, not a fire.
The bomb erupted a second later, tearing through the door and windows, blowing brick and glass across to the other side of the road. Black flame emerged and spread up the building. Mr Johnston was thrown in seven different directions as his entire was body was ripped apart in a second.
People began screaming loudly and rushed to the scene only to find debris and a damaged brown hat lying on the concrete. What they failed to notice were two men, dressed only in black and clutching two briefcases each full of two million dollars, jumping out a side window. They dashed down the nearest alley and ran like hell to the end. They stopped and laid the briefcases down before ripping off their black clothes, exposing the smart business suits underneath. The black man poured a small bottle of gasoline, which had been stored in his pocket, over his clothes and dropped a lighter on them. They burst into flame. The younger man did the same.
They both walked calmly around the corner of the alley, briefcases in hand, and out into the street, heading the complete opposite direction of the enormous crowd of people who were rushing towards the bank. Despite the rain and the fact that it was midnight, they brought out pairs of sunglasses from their breast pockets and put them on.
They turned onto the main street and walked along the road until they turned into a small area, cut off from the street and into the small building at the far end.
"Shit man, these briefcases are heavy…" the black man said and laid it down on the bed.
"Yeah. But at least I know how heavy two million dollars is" the smaller guy laughed.
The black man took off his sunglasses and peered out of the window, just in case they were spotted. Satisfied they had got away with it; he sighed in relief and threw his sunglasses on the table by the door. He walked over to the fridge and opened it to find three slices of bread, half a bottle of mouldy milk and, fortunately for him, two beers.
"Claude" he said.
The smaller man looked up from the briefcase he was staring happily at and caught the cold can of beer as it was thrown to him.
"All right, I gotta go get some new clothes from Staunton. I'll be back in an hour"
The black man nodded and took his tie off. It had been a long day but four million dollars in stolen cash had made up for it.
Claude walked out the side door which led straight to the garage and got in his parked Stinger. The garage door raised itself up and he reversed out. He turned the car out of the hideout and sped off round the corner towards the bridge to Staunton Island. He passed three fire trucks which were darting off towards Liberty City bank. Claude smirked slightly and turned on Head Radio.
He passed the brand new 'You are leaving Portland' neon sign on his way across the bridge only to be met with the more welcoming 'Welcome to Staunton Island' neon sign about thirty seconds later.
Claude pulled the Stinger up to the only clothes shop he had ever shopped in. He knew the owner. Hell, he'd saved the owners ass about three times this year alone. The stupid shit was running a drugs warehouse just across the street and the cops had smelt a rat from day one. Claude had paid to have them taken care of but new guys kept getting assigned to the job. The owner of the shop got to his warehouse through a tunnel which had been built for him in the cellar. It crossed the street, secretly, and opened up in the basement of the warehouse.
Claude walked up to side door in the alley and knocked 'the secret knock' which had always sounded to Claude like a clap at a football game. The stoned shop owner peered out through the slit in the door and grinned widely.
"Claude! My man! How've you been, hombre?" he asked as he opened the door in that annoying Latino accent.
Claude put on a fake smiled and hugged him.
"You want clothes, eh?"
"But why? Look at these clothes! You look like the president"
"It's a loan from a friend" Claude replied and walked passed the owner into the smelly, dark shop.
Claude picked out some clothes and stuffed them in a garbage bag. He reached into his back pocket and brought out his wallet. He threw a fifty at the owner and walked off.
"Hey! Thanks, amigo"
Claude raised his hand in acknowledgement and walked out to his car. He opened the trunk, but there was no room for his clothes. There were enough guns for a small army packed in there. He dropped the garbage bag and put the two pistols into his inside jacket pockets and the clips into his back pocket. He put the two Desert Eagles into the holsters under his jacket and tossed the four AKs into the passenger seat.
Now he put the bag in. He did so and closed the trunk, hard. Claude got back in the Stinger and drove off to Cluckin' Bell. A branch had finally opened up in Liberty City after its years of success across the country and Claude had been their first customer when they opened up here.
He parked in the parking lot. Thankfully, Cluckin' Bell was open 24 hours giving the people of Liberty City a chance to get a 'Good mothercluckin' burger' any time of the day. Claude stepped out of the rain into the bright, empty eatery and walked up to the counter. He was followed there by some god awful song that some idiot had probably put on on purpose to drive away customers and then ran off himself.
Claude sat down after ten minutes of waiting for a burger, fries and a 'Mystery Milkshake'. The 'Mystery Milkshake' was made up to attract more customers with its mysterious taste. Claude didn't know what was in it but it was one damn good milkshake. Sometimes he thought he was the only one keeping this branch up because he hardly ever saw anyone here.
He finished his unhealthy meal and walked slowly back to his car. He reached for his keys as he walked but was blinded by headlights. A Rumpo burst out from the shadows and Claude was grabbed by the collar from someone in the passenger side. He was dragged along the ground at forty miles an hour before being pulled inside by more passengers in the back.