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There's no better place to disappear than Liberty City. It doesn't matter whether you are running from your past, the police or responsibility... Liberty City is full of places for rats to hide. Rats like me...

_ _

My name is Alex, short for Alexander. I was born and raised in Vice City but I couldn't find my place there. The people there were faker than their breasts and hair. Between Cuban drug lords and swarms of tourists enjoying the heat, the place was just too crowded and crazy for me. I tried to live with it though, I truly did. Then one day I was asked to deliver a package to a man named Anthony...

_ _

It was a simple favor for a man I had thought to be a friend. When I drove up to the drop off point there was Anthony. He took the package and thanked me for being on time. Then he opened the package and I almost died... coke! At least an entire back pack's worth in the bag I had been carrying all day. I tried to excuse myself, but found my path barred by two large goons. I was scared, I panicked and then... I screamed for the cops. At least five tan clad police officers responded to my call and Anthony took off like a bat out of hell while his goons pulled out guns and I was cowering like a baby while guns went off around me.

_ _

Later that day I was leaving the local police department and from behind a hedge a man rose up and opened fire on me, caught my left shoulder with a few shards of metal from the shot gun blast. Needless to say he was gunned down in a second, but not before he said something that haunts me to this day...

_ _

"Anthony will never stop coming for you!"

_ _

I was told by local police that the state would send me to a protected location in the city until Anthony was found. I couldn't take that chance. With their help I secured a ticket on a plane out of Vice City heading up north... to Liberty City.

_ _

Three years after my great escape and life is shit. I own a cheap apartment in Bohan with roaches bigger than the couch I call a bed. I have a horrible job... trash collection. I hate my bosses; they're a bunch of holier than thou Italian mobsters who run the city and think they can pull off hiding their behavior from the police. The common workers like me don't have the heart to tell them most of us are under cover cops. Not me though, I am just a simple peasant who lives from one pay check to the next. I spend most of my money on shampoo to wash the stink out of my fur.

_ _

That's enough for this journal entry, I better finish up on the computer and get home, the Tw@ worker keeps giving me the stink eye...

I logged off the computer and finished my over priced coffee before standing up and heading outside. The rain hit my face causing me to shiver so I flipped up the collar of my green flannel shirt. Blowing a small breath into my palms I could see the cold of the night in the mist it produced. I didn't have to wait long for a vacant cab to drive by so I flagged the guy down and got myself a ride home.

The cab smelled like blood and gun powder, an odd mixture unless you live in Liberty City. Any given moment I would pass by a mugging or burglary as I rode down the dark streets of Liberty. The rest of the ride passed in a blur of lights and sounds as the cab crossed over two bridges to get to the island that made up Bohan. Eventually the car stopped in front of an eight floor apartment building in South Bohan and I handed over the 20 bucks it took to get there from North Holland.

Upstairs on the fifth floor I walked into my apartment. I could smell the left over pizza I had neglected to put away properly festering on the counter in my kitchen. The filth was mostly there when I moved in, but I couldn't help feeling I had a lot to do with it myself. I stepped over to my kitchen and put the box and rotten pizza away in the trash bin by my fridge before I popped the large white box open and took out a can of beer, uh, the can of beer. While walking over to my couch I stopped by the cracked mirror on the wall near my closet full of tattered clothes.

I stood at 5'8" and weighed in at roughly 175 lbs on a given day when I didn't stop at Burger Shot. I was a wolf so my snout extended out a few inches to a nicely pointed chin and black nose. My fangs were well brushed so they flashed white when I smiled. I worked out my body often to keep in good shape to haul garbage from the hundreds of alley ways in Central Algonquin. My meager pay could only afford the worst quality clothes from a Russian owned shop in Hove Beach, so I lived in jeans and cheaply made jackets. The only outstanding feature I was proud of was my shining silver fur coat and spiked head fur. I closed my icy silver eyes as I sighed; I wished I had enough money to visit a Perseus.

After a few more minutes of griping about my lack of funds and enjoying the refreshing beer, I went over to my fold out couch and got the bed ready. I then stripped down to my boxers and sank into the old mattress that smelled like wet dog. Despite the odor and sounds of gun fire down on the street, I quickly fell into a deep sleep. Dreams of my shadowed past and shattered dreams gave me a very restless night of sleep. Before I knew it I was waking to the loud buzzing of my 4 am alarm and sitting up with a pain in my neck and back from the lumpy bed.

After a very quick cold shower and brushing my teeth, I donned my trash collection jacket, a hard hat, a pair of mildly tattered jeans and my unloved sneakers. I brushed my head fur and chin scruff before I left my apartment building to wait by the curb for my ride to work. I didn't have to wait long before I saw the familiar blue Blista Compact owned by my female bunny co worker, Debra. She wore a coat of fur colored like marble cake. Her long ears were always pulled back and held together by a scrunchy that changed colors daily and usually matched whatever style she was into at a given time.

"Hey you, dog boy!" She cried as she skidded to a halt in front of me. She nearly smashed into a trash bin, something she is known for from Broker to Alderney.

"Thanks for this bud; I don't know what I would do without you." I replied with a smile. It really was a kind thing for her to do, giving me a ride to work every morning. Gas prices alone were reason enough to say no.

"Bud?" She said as she watched me get myself settled in the passenger seat, "Who are you calling 'bud'? I am a lady. You call me miss or some other cute pet name, but not 'bud.'"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud which caused her to release a sigh before she drove off down the street, heading for the East Borough Bridge. Once again I allowed myself a moment of peace while I watched the blurred lights pass by my window. It occurred to me then that the streets were unusually quiet, but I shrugged it off as just a nice and peaceful night. Once over the bridges Debra turned south and headed through eastern Algonquin. I saw a few people walking here and there then which gave me peace of mind, but at the same time I still suffered under the same familiar feeling that something was off.

Once we made it to Fishmarket South I could smell that sweet aroma of fish combined with the potency of the waste management center. It was enough to strip the paint from the trucks we drove. Debra parked us around the side then we got out and headed into the large garage area where trucks were already fueled up and set in line. There in line sat our truck, we named her Old Betsy after Debra's oddball grandmother Betsy who talked a lot of trash. OB was a simple Trashmaster painted white with the company logo on the side, but she was our Trashmaster.

Debra climbed up in the front and turned our old girl on. That purr and the feel of the vibration in my paw as I held on back calmed me. It reminded me that an honest day's work was something you can find, even in a cesspool of scum like Liberty City. From then on the morning was spent driving five miles per hour down streets too narrow to take a deep breath and picking up bundles of garbage. Around 6:30 am we found our way into Chinatown and were going to stop for a break.

We were laughing at a joke Debra had just finished telling when we noticed a few trash cans spread out in the middle of the street, some even opened and oozing their disgusting contents onto the ground.

"No worries miss Debra; I'll get those cans out of the road." I called over the small hand radio I used to keep in contact with my driver.

I hopped off the back of Old Betsy and made my way over to the garbage cans. They seemed to be a little too perfectly placed in the street. There was no way a stray animal could have kicked them so far from their place between the buildings. As I picked up the first can I thought I heard the sound of a puddle being stepped in. I glanced around at the shadows and alleys and nothing could be seen. I reached for a second loaded can to fix up right when I heard a faint clicking, possibly two clicks in quick succession. I glanced around again as survival instincts started to kick into gear. That's when I noticed it, a scent of sweat and anticipation, or fear, and also that of gun powder.

As if on cue ten armed men and furs burst from all around Old Betsy screaming in accents similar to western european, some even speaking what was clearly Russian. I did all I could and rose my hands into the air to avoid the need to use force on me. I heard Debra fighting back behind me, but I couldn't see what was happening. Then everything went black...

The first thing I registered was blackness. I could breathe and feel my blood pulse to all the farthest reaches of my body, so I was alive. I could smell my own blood and taste it on my lips. Suddenly the blackness was replaced by redness and finally blinding whiteness before I could make out my surroundings. I was sitting in a chair with my arms and legs bound firmly. Across from me sat Debra, her eyes blindfolded and her mouth gagged. Her green uniform jacket was still closed but stained by blood dripping from her slightly broken nose and split lip. Her head hung low and her breathing was very slow and quiet. Anger boiled in my chest as I peered around looking for our captor and I gasped when my eyes fell... on Anthony.

There he was, just standing there with a very smug look on his face. He was a damned rat fur with thick black fur which gave his face an evil look. The eye brows were thick and his deep set eyes were black as coal. He was wearing a rather fine business suit, no doubt from Perseus, with a set of small square framed sunglasses that hung loosely on his face near the tip of his pointed snout. The ugliest man I had ever seen was only uglier if you were foolish enough to look at his tail. It hung behind him wriggling now and then like an unearthed worm. As he stood there, leaning slightly on a free chair behind him, he pulled a small vial from his inner jacket pocket and popped it open. He placed it close to his nose and inhaled quick but deep and immediately his entire body twitched and gave a spasm.

I almost hoped the dark bastard had taken too much of his powdered vice into his body, but my hopes were for naught as I saw him recover and appear smug once more. Then he stood straight and walked over to me. I could hear his steps as his hard soled shoes padded on what I then realized was a hard stone floor, possibly poured concrete. When he reached me his furry hand gripped the bottom of my chin and forced my face to turn up, my eyes looking into his. Those cold eyes gave me a chill and I jerked my face away from his hand. He gave a soft, but evil chuckle then spoke, his voice one of steel and so menacing I had trouble believing I wasn't in some sort of sick Japanese film.

"So you thought to leave me behind in that land of salty sea air and warm beaches? The warning was clear you pathetic piece of shit. This world is mine as well. You cannot run. You cannot hide. And if you want that little rabbit to survive the night you will learn that you cannot betray me more than once. I have a little job that a filth handler like you would be perfect for."

"You prick... what did you do to my friend?!" I cried out in anger. My pulse raced as I envisioned terrible, awful tortures being done to her.

"Such a hot head... your friend is merely asleep. She took a rather nasty hit to the back of her head while she fought against my men. She will be taken to the minor injuries ward of the hospital in Schottler. She will be left there to recover... if you do a little job for me."

I knew I couldn't say no. Debra's life depended on me saying yes and giving whatever dirty deed he wanted done my all. Every fiber of my being was torn between giving in to this maniac's wishes, or allowing myself and a dear friend to die for the sake of foolish pride. I guess the decision wasn't that hard to make after all. With a heavy heart I gave my captor, and now worst enemy, a sharp nod.

"I will do what you say for her sake..." I said sullenly.

"Excellent. Now that I have your word I will explain to you my plan." He replied. He cut the ropes around my body allowing me the freedom to move, obviously trusting that I wouldn't make a move against him.

"As you might know there are two groups that run this town: the Russians of Broker and the Italians of Algonquin. It's obvious who has the upper hand judging by the amount of land both hold. My Russian friends... they don't like the odds being so high against them gaining a foot hold in business in this town. We are going to eliminate the competition here... with some explosive arguments..." He dictated to me before removing a small black box from his pocket.

The box was about the size of a ring box so it easily fit into one's palm. On the top was a simple red button. It seemed odd at first. I mean a black box with a red button? It all seemed a bit cliché, but I didn't feel like angering this prick by opening my big mouth. After all, Debra was depending on me, whether she was aware of it or not. I watched as he toyed with the small box, no doubt attempting to make me nervous. I will admit, I did feel a lurch in my stomach as I watched the harmless box bounce from one hand to the other.

"With this box you will set off an explosive located on the underside of that garbage truck of yours. I need you to park that giant gas guzzling monstrosity inside the garage in Fishmarket South. I would distance myself from the facility before setting it off if I were you, though if you want to make it a suicide bombing I wont object." He continued. When he was finished speaking his mouth spread out into an ugly grin. I had to put in a lot of effort to suppress an angry growl.

Now was the time to decide. I had to choose death for a little under a hundred people, my co-workers and bosses... or death for myself and Debra. What are two lives when compared to so many, whether I know them or not? Was it some kind of noble feat to give one's life for the sake of so many? Would it matter in the grand scheme if I survived the day? Would another be given the task I have been issued if I refused?

Probably... so why shouldn't it be me?

"Fine Anthony... I will do this little favor for you." I finally conceded. I could feel a little part of me burn away from my soul as I agreed to kill so many. I could feel my body burn from within with a mixture of revulsion and anger, but at whom?

"Excellent, I knew you had it in you the day we met. The truck has been prepared and left outside for you. Drive carefully, the last thing we need is for our carefully laid out plan to go up in smoke half way across the Broker Bridge. Once there you park it inside the garage. Our inside guys have told us a very important 'sit down' is taking place in one hour. You have 45 minutes to get in there and leave before security gets too tight to sneak a bomb in... oh dear, make that 43 minutes." He concluded with a very sinister cackle that gave me shivers up my spine.

I leapt from the seat I had been occupying and ran up a set of nearby stairs made of poured concrete like the rest of the floor. I soon realized I had been in a basement of an old, burned out apartment house in Hove Beach. After clawing my way out of the burnt husk of a building I found Old Betsy parked by the curb. She looked so innocent in her old, rusty beauty. No one would ever have suspected what was strapped to her underside. My hands shook with rage as I imagined her blowing to smithereens, but I knew that I had no choice but to sacrifice her for Debra.

I climbed up into the driver's seat of Betsy and I started her up. Her purr felt even more relaxing from behind the wheel. I took a moment to wonder how Debra would feel if she knew her machine would soon be shrapnel that would impale her bosses and co-workers. I then put the old girl into gear and drove off at a slow pace heading for the Broker Bridge. Betsy was a faithful old truck, but at that point all I could think was, "can't this fat bitch move any faster!?"

Once on the bridge time passed by quickly. I tapped my fingers on the wheel while watching out for insane Liberty City drivers who liked to switch lanes half way across the bridge. Twice a yellow cab would swerve in front of me even though their lane was empty ahead. When I saw the arches leading into Chinatown I can't tell you how relieved I was, until I realized I had 15 minutes left to get the heavy ass truck to the garage! I slammed on the gas pedal as I drove along the edge of Chinatown, past old shops and groups of tourists visiting the older portion of south Algonquin. After a few sharp inner city turns, I found myself driving by the warehouses that stood next to the waste management garage building. I hoped no one in those buildings so close would get hurt because of me, but I had little time to dwell on it as I made for the garage itself.

I turned into the drive way of the garage and my heart sank. There standing outside the large door were two goons in suits. Both were quite obviously armed to the teeth, though they kept their weapons concealed well enough. Ahead of Betsy were two Trashmasters nearly identical save for the designs that age and rust left on their hulls. The two goons were checking over each truck that would go into the facility for something, and I knew I was the only worker with a clue as to what they were actually looking for. Minutes passed, but they seemed like hours. The first truck made it through with no problems. The second driver was found with a pistol in his glove compartment and he was thrown out of his truck harshly. He was chased off without bloodshed, but I knew the two goons would have had no problem ending the fussy driver's life.

I drove up to their little checkpoint next. My heart raced as the one instructed me to lower my window while the other went back to check the truck over. I lowered my window slowly as I tried to think of answers to any questions he asked me. When the goon, who evidently was an Italian human, spoke to me it was with a thick Algonquin accent that, due to my place of employment, I was entirely too used to hearing.

"Yous had a good run out dere?" He asked.

"Sure brother, it's a real blast picking up other people's garbage." I joked. I hoped he had a good sense of humor or I felt for sure I would be fucked.

"Ha! Yeah, yous tellin me. The shit I gotta pick up for my boss sometimes... well let's just say it ain't a damn picnic. Ya know?" He replied with a small grin. Humor was always a good way to make others feel comfortable around you when you feel your back is against a wall.

I noticed the other goon in the right side mirror checking everything over. When he bent down to search the underbelly of Betsy I nearly screamed out no. Then I was startled to see him jump back away from her fast. At first I fancied he had found the bomb, but that didn't explain why he didn't immediately pull out a gun. He slowly walked up to the front again and then joined me in the cockpit of old Betsy. This goon was a jackal fur with a lithe body and dyed black hair. When he spoke it was with a more sophisticated tongue. He was obviously used to being the brains of the duet.

"Anything interesting happen during your run?" He asked.

"Nope, just your average 'pick up and drop off' night." I responded with a very casual, calm tone. If this was going to succeed then I would have to act as natural as possible. So far it seemed his earlier reaction must have been from the smell of the rotting garbage in the back.

"That there's good, see? We got a call about some bullshit going down here today so we're checking all you ladies and gent's trucks for anything suspicious like. Seems you're clean though, go on and park in there but you have to leave right away, the bosses are having a sit down and they need no one around. Got it?"

Got it? I was so happy to be given a pass to book it the hell out of there you have no idea. After giving my affirmative that I understood what he wanted of me, the jackal left the cab of the truck and I was able to pass by the check point without much hassle. In retrospect it's sad that I was able to bypass security even though it was tightened, but I digress. After parking my truck near a weight bearing beam in the garage, I quickly shut Betsy off and said my goodbyes while I fetched precious treasures from the various hiding places in the cab, including a bottle of champagne I had bought with Debra to celebrate our shared birthdays in the coming month. I then exited the cab of the large Trashmaster and made sure I had my special black box handy.

As I left the garage I could see a line of Stretches in various colors from black to grey to white all lined up at the check point. I kept my eyes on the ground in front of me as I played it cool. None of those major crime bosses would notice a faceless guy like Alexander Wolfe. I was out of the garage and in the parking lot by Debra's Blista Compact before I knew it. Using her keys which were on the same ring as the keys to Betsy, I casually climbed into the driver's seat and turned the car on. I hadn't driven so much in a long time and the soft purr of the Blista helped to relax me.

I pulled out slowly checking blind spots and using signals as an attempt at looking like an average citizen and not someone fleeing a lit fuse. Once I had driven out of sight of the line of limos I parked by the curb and pulled out the black box. It was such a simple thing. It was light enough to maybe weigh the same as two double A batteries. The button and box were made of a simple plastic. It was like a TV remote with one function... one evil, deadly function. I took a deep breath and then put pressure on the button. I remember time stopping when I first heard the explosion.

When time resumed it sped forward in over drive. The garbage truck garage went up like the Fourth of July. The explosion wasn't contained however, and soon I watched in horror as the warehouse next door exploded in a fire ball of destruction, throwing cars on the road into the building across the street. After that it was like a domino effect. I had barely enough time to speed off before the warehouse I had been parked near exploded. As I drove I glanced into the rear view mirror at the line of destruction... the destruction I had caused with my simple black box and tiny red button.

I drove and drove through the streets of Liberty City, thinking and cursing as tears kept threatening to blind me and get me into an accident. I had no only allowed myself to become some man's tool; I had let him use me to destroy an entire block of Fishmarket South and kill many innocent people trying to make a life doing some of the worst work for the worst people. I finally ended my drive in Middle Park. I parked the Blista on the side of the road on the bridge in Middle Park and from there I watched the many people jogging and enjoying the new day. During my drive the sun had risen to its highest arc.

Just as I was contemplating how deep the water in the small lake ofMiddleParkwas and whether I could drown in it, my pocket began to buzz. I reached in and found a cell phone. It was a simple phone with a grey screen and set of numbers that lit up as it rang. I answered the phone and held it to my ear as I looked out into the distance at nothing in particular.

"Hello?"

"Alex my boy, you did a fantastic job..." It was Anthony and his rat bastard grin was easily heard in his voice.

"You evil son of a bitch... you ordered me to take out those Italian scum bags, not an entire industrial block!" I gripped the stone railing of the bridge as I spoke hotly without raising my voice.

"You should watch that temper. I am pleased for now; the last thing you want is me getting angry again. You will find your cute little friend is safe at home. We won't need to bother her again. But you my dear wolf... we will speak again. Keep the phone as part of the gift I have given you. The other part is in your bank account. Keep your nose clean mutt." He hung up then leaving me wondering. I returned to the car and drove a few blocks before finding an ATM machine. After entering the necessary information I found that my account had received a deposit of 2500 Liberty City dollars.

Was that it? All those lives and all that destroyed property... were they only worth 2500 bucks? I felt something snap in me at that moment. All the tears were gone. My body relaxed. So this is what it felt like to embrace one's destiny. I was a killer. Not of one, of many. I had received money for blowing up hundreds of thousands of dollars in property and equipment in the Fishmarket. It was both frightening and exhilarating at once.

After that I drove up north to Debra's place in Boulevard up in north Bohan. She owned a small apartment like mine but in a tall apartment block, up on the tenth floor. I rang her bell and she buzzed me in quick enough. After a short ride up the elevator I was soon sitting on the couch in her living room. She sat by me with a neck brace on and her right arm in a sling. We sat silently for a long while before she spoke softly.

"I heard about what you had to do... to save me." She said softly while looking at me.

"So you know what I am then... you know I have been turned into a tool of death?" I spoke just as softly as I felt the pang of regret and guilt once more.

"I know it is hard for you to take what you did Alex. I don't think badly of you. I owe you my life. I want you to know that no matter what happens from this point you will always have a friend in me." She said with a soft smile.

I gave her my best smile back. I knew she was trying to make me feel better. She really was the best friend a dirty mutt like me could hope to have. I just hoped that she wouldn't get sucked into the horrible shit I knew was on its way for me. I knew I could deal with killing, lying, stealing and anything else Anthony would need me for, but I didn't want that for Debra. I swore at that moment if Anthony ever crossed that line again I would find a way to kill the son of a whore.

As we sat there in silence we both gave a start when my new cell phone went off...