I'm Ricardo Mulanofsky, but you can call me Ricky, and my friends call me "Mully." I'm currently in the plane and the air, and can't wait to touch down in Los Santos. Had to get away from L.C. since everywhere I go, I am verbally and physically assaulted there. When I report it to the police, I am literally told they have a lot going on and will get to me when they can, then never show. I've been mugged 3 times, violently attacked by a street gang on one occasion and I've actually had people spit in my face. You might wonder why that is. Well let me tell you...
I grew up in the City of Liberty, my mother did the best she could but of course like most kids growing up in the Bohan ghettos I became involved in gang shit when I was young. I think the first time I broke the law I was 9 years old, and it was a hazing to get into my friend's new 'gang.' Really it was me and my buddy, and he declared himself a gang leader and I was to be his first recruit. I stole a pack of baseball cards and flushed the wrapper down the toilet in the bathroom. I felt almost sick then... the bliss of youthful ignorance of what life is really like had yet to dissipate, and the cold, bloody truth of reality had yet to seep into my soul and poison me from the inside.
My mother God rest her soul, passed away when I was 13 and I wound up in the system along with the rest of the cities wayward children, orphans of the crime wars that swamped the city back then, and still do to this day. I grew up on and off the streets, somehow managing to not to catch any serious charges along the way. A petty theft here, a misdemeanor assault there, you get it. It wasn't until I was 19 that I fully comprehended the gravity of the situation I was in. I knew if I didn't get out soon I never would. To make a long story short, I was 'allowed' to leave my crew but I still have scars to remind me where I come from.
After that, I started straight hustling and making legit money. I worked a few odd jobs until I had saved enough to get out of the homeless shelter and into a piss-reeking square the size of a large drink cooler that the landlord called an apartment. I got a good job pushing a broom at a industrial plant making various parts for Liberty City's various organizations. Over time I worked my way up to the dayshift operator of the self-sealing stem bolt assembly line, with a full benefit package and weekends off. After 10 years, I would even have a week's vacation! Imagine a whole week without work in LC? The possibilities...
Well, 9 of those 10 years had just finished and I was only months away from earning that week's vacation and the worst day of my life took place. It had been a long shift, they had forced the line to run at 150% speed and with mandatory 18 hour shifts for days on end. To say I was basically sleepwalking by the time I reached the floor of my building would be an understatement. In fact, I was so tired that I walked right through a large pool of blood, still wet and seeping into the hallway carpeting. I tracked the blood into my apartment, and after removing my jacket and turning back towards the fridge, I suddenly felt very awake when I noticed the stark red footprints on my otherwise lightly stained gray carpeting. I returned to the hallway, backtracking and this time avoiding the blood only to find the blood pool was the the base of the door of the neighbor directly next to me. As I drew closer to the door and realized it was standing open about 2 inches, I could see in the splash of light from the hallway, a shoe with a foot still in it lying on the ground just beyond it.
I have lived in LC city my whole life. I've seen violence and death, and knew how easily life can be deleted by anyone with the mind to do it. But even as I withdrew my piece and slowly entered the apartment to investigate knowing full well that whatever happened could still BE happening, I wanted to believe that the worst was not true. This apartment belonged to a young immigrant family. I didn't know them well, and they didn't not speak English. It sounded like some sort of eastern European language. Anyway, I didn't know them... but they always smiled at me. In this city, you don't see that much. All 4 of them, mom and dad and the two daughters maybe 6 and 7. Whenever we did happen to pass we always exchanged pleasantries. I ... liked them. They seemed like good people and I thought that maybe those two girls could grow up in the city and make it out. They had their parents who seemed to actually care. I had hope for them.
Just like my gut told me and LC has taught me to expect, whatever monster had entered this apartment had done unspeakable acts to the bodies of these 4 people. I made it about halfway into the entryway before falling to my knees. I can't explain my grief. Why? Why was I so upset? I didn't know them. I hung my head in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably for just a moment. My hands fell to my sides and after my vision cleared, I found what must have been the murder weapon. A hatchet, completely bright red in arterial blood, lay a few feet away. I slowly reached for it, for some reason feeling like I needed to secure it. Maybe to preserve evidence or something? I took it in my hand and stood, turning back to the door and re-holstering my pistol only to find a young man staring into the apartment from the hallway through the now wide open door, and with wide open eyes the size of cue balls. He saw me, holding the axe and covered in the blood of the victims. Immediately he turned and ran and I knew already what was going to happen to me.
Fast forward to the second worst day of my life. I'm in pre-trial for the horrific murder of a family of four in the ghetto. The trial had become the biggest focus of media attention in the city. Everyone in LC had an opinion, and everyone was sure that I was guilty or innocent and before we even make it to trial, the whole thing wrapped up in an abrupt, unexpected and absolutely chaotic way.
The moments leading up to 'the utterance' I've taken to calling it are a blur. I do remember the three words uttered by the judge before the courtroom erupted into absolute anarchy. "Dismissed, with prejudice." Somehow, LCPD managed to get me out of the courtroom and away from the mob, but in the weeks that followed I became the most popular person in Liberty City. Everyone thought I was in kahoots with the judge, who by the way conveniently disappeared off the face of the earth after making this statement on the bench. People don't even know how he left the courthouse that day, let alone if he left it alive. When it was all said and done, dozens were dead and the courthouse along with most of the rest of the block it resided on were completely destroyed.
Well, the girl I had been seeing left me basically right after the charges were filed against me. I was evicted from my apartment because jail. My employer decided that even though I'd been a loyal and hard working employee, they could not be associated with someone who brings so much negative attention to their name. To top it off my damn dog died while I was in prison because nobody returned to my apartment. I only found out when my attorney informed me that police had re-entered my home after reports of a foul odor.
I worked so hard to get what I had, that measly pittance compared the criminal lords of that trash city. I went on the straight and narrow and LC decided it needed to remind me that it owns every citizen within its borders and it will decide who will succeed and who won't.
I'm thinkin... thinkin maybe it's time for a change. Yes, a change of pace and place. Who could say no to the coastal paradise of Los Santos, the beaches, the girls, the rides... the money that must be there. A whole new opportunity, a place where nobody knows me, where my face isn't on everyone's social media feed and I don't have to watch my back QUITE as much.
So when I touch down, L.S. gonna have one more rat in the race, and this time I know how to do it both ways. Er..
