GTA3 and all characters are owned by Rockstar. I don't own GTA3, but GTA3 owns me..yup. This is my first published fanfic. You can say it's crap if you want, but please be nice about it ^_^ This is basically about GTA3's story as told through the P.O.V of "The Man". I've kept it as pure as I can. The man doesn't have any spoken dialogue, nor does he have a name. You may not like the "voice" I give him or the background I give him, but that's your opinion and you can write your own fic then :) I have more chapters planned, but if people enjoy this, then I'll continue it.
As far back as I could remember, I've always wanted to be a gangster. Well, ten years ago at least. I think when I was five I said I wanted to be a driver for one of the local pizza places, but yeah, I've always wanted to be a gangster. It's funny, that idea never was formed until my innocence was lost in Liberty City, until I got old enough to know what really made good 'ol L-town tick. I'm not different from most people though, in terms of dreams. As soon as we enter childhood, we always think about what we want to become when we "grow up". It might change as we get older, but the idea has been formed. Sad thing is, even when most people get older, they seem to forget these dreams and end up behind some retail counter or in a cubical, hating themselves and their jobs because they've become too chickenshit to go chasing after what they really want to do. Maybe it's because we always choose the "safer" path. We grow apathetic. Whatever's easier and less painful for us is what's best. Well...not me. Sure, wanting to become a criminal isn't the best career choice, for most people. I'm not most people though.
Liberty City seems to "spawn" sinners. Take a drive by Portland or the slums of Shoreside Vale and you'll see what I mean. It's not to say everyone grows up to be a criminal, but I'd like to believe a large part of the population does. Sometimes, it doesn't even matter what side of the el. tracks you're from. Maybe you'll be making hits and drivebys for a local gang, or maybe you'll be financially helping out some of the wealthier ones. Whatever your social status, crime's always got a job for you. Who knows, maybe if I had grown up somewhere other than Liberty, I might have become that pizza driver.
There's nothing really unusual about my family. I was a child of three. My brother, sister and I never got along. Ever. I was the middle one, either getting pushed around or scolded for stuff I didn't do. It always seemed it was the older one or the younger one getting attention, but never me. It wouldn't sound right for me to tell you that my family was somewhat normal, but that's the truth. We were just like every other middle class family living in the worst city in the world.
We lived in the slummy part of Portland, in Hepburn Heights. It was a shitty neighborhood, even back then. My father worked at the Trenton sawmill and my mother worked at Marco's Bistro in Saint Marks. We didn't really have any Italian heritage, not that I knew of. We were one of those "mixed" families. I recall my mother saying we were half Irish and German..or something.
As a kid, I was never really popular..one of those "inbetweeners". That was always the safer way to go. When you were an inbetweener, you didn't have to worry about getting the shit beat out of you and your lunch money stolen because you were wealthier than most, and you didn't have to worry about being laughed at and picked on because you were ass poor. I did get in the occasional fist fight, just like every other kid. Fights were an every day occurrence in Portland schools. So much so that whenever one broke out, no one stopped to gawk, they just kept going about their business. It was routine.
During my childhood in Portland, the Mafia had occupied Saint Marks and Hepburn Heights, though I'd be correct in saying they pretty much owned the whole of Portland back then. They were everywhere. It was when their influence was at its strongest. Of course, I didn't know much about organized crime then. I was innocent, ignorant. When I was eleven I use to walk to Saint Marks and work at the Bistro with my mother (it wasn't until later in my life I learned she was able to get me a job there because she knew the owner "real well"). I'd sweep floors, bus tables, the usual. I always use to watch as the big Mafia members sat around and discussed current events. Did I know they were killers, "bad men"? Of course not, my mother was over protective. She didn't want me to work at the Bistro, but she knew no other place would hire me. I was too young and we needed the extra money. The owner made a special exception for me because he "liked" my mother. She didn't want me to even talk to the customers. She wanted to pull the covers over my eyes and shield me from the evil in Liberty. It didn't work.
My job at the Bistro didn't last long. A few months after, my father was offered a job over at the Liberty Pharmaceuticals Laboratory over in Shoreside Vale. It happened right after a gang war erupted in Hepburn Heights between an up and coming gang named the Diablos, and the Mafia. They looked like they'd be a pushover, but they were underestimated. They eventually moved the Mafia back into Saint Marks, and that's when the big 'ol Italians started to loose their influence. I use to think we moved because of the constant warring between the gangs, but I learned it was because my father ended up in some financial troubles with the Mafia. He just figured they'd be too busy killing each other to remember the debt he owed.
I lived the rest of my teenage years in the better part of Shoreside. Then, when I was fourteen, my father failed to return home from work one day. My mother told me and the rest that he "left" the family. Bullshit. I knew it was because he was no longer able to escape. He paid with his life. It was funny to see the great lengths my mother went to to prevent me from entering "the light". She wanted me to be like every other hapless dumbass in the city who went around and did their jobs, totally oblivious to the real face of the city. No, I would not be like them. I wouldn't let her turn me into that, like how she did to my brother and sister. Sure, the city's seedy, crime is everywhere, but ignore it. That was her view. I figured out crime is all around, you can't just ignore it. Why fight it? So what was I to do knowing this? The light hurts sometimes, but it's better than being in the dark. So, I finally decided then to join it. Join it, and milk it for all it's worth. That was my new dream.
To hell with college I didn't need it, not for what I wanted to become. My brother and sister moved to Staunton where they landed big, money making jobs. I know it wasn't doing anything they liked. It wasn't because they went after their dreams. It was because of father's contacts. I don't even know what they're doing know, and I don't care. I haven't seen them for five years now, and I don't plan on paying them visits anytime soon. I don't give a shit about them anymore. I was like the bum, the outcast of the family. They don't care about me anyway.
To make my living, I stole..little things. I pickpocketed and sometimes I broke into apartments. I stole cars, even broke into stores. I stole jewelry and other things, and sold them to pawn shops or whoever'd buy the crap I looted. I never got caught, not even once. Steal what you can and run from the nation. I was working small time, but I wanted to live big. This life was like one big high for me. Whatever I did, I wanted to go bigger, I wanted more. I got a thrill out of it. I had no connections with anyone and I feared I'd be living small forever, I'd never work with the big boys and get the recognition I deserved. Then, I met her. Catalina. What a woman. I met her in a coffee shop and we hit it off. We liked the same things, had the same opinions on things, it was like we were made for each other. We both wanted to hit it big, we both had ambitions. We started dating. She was sweet at first. We did all the things couples do. We went to movies, went shopping, went out to eat, went on robbing sprees. Even now, I have to admit, they were the best times of my life. Everything is different when you have someone who loves you. Life becomes beautiful. It may sound mushy but it's the truth. It made my life ten times better. To have someone to do sprees with, share your thoughts with, it was euphoria. Then it all got fucked up.