Jim5582

The Case of The Underwhelming Return They say life is what you make of it. What they don't tell you, is that life sometimes chews you up and spits you out and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it. A lots happened since my last entry, and a lot has certainly changed around these parts. Needless to say, I'm back and I figure if anyone was curious about what happened to ol' Frank Fletcher, I can make it known here. That way I'm not waddling around Los Santos like some kind of irritated broken record. As if you hadn't have guessed, I've been gone for two years due to mistakes that led me into a coma. You see, at the time, things weren't all rainbows and roses over at LSEMS. Things were very... complicated at the time. This made for being in a leadership position that much harder. I'll spare the details because at this point, it'd be petty to point fingers and to lash out when things are pretty much dead and buried.. but I will say... I was greatly disillusioned by the time I had worked with there at the time. I dedicated my heart and soul into that department.. but in the end, all that time, all that effort and all of that dedication amounted to nothing short of a swift kick in the pants. This of course led to a disgraced resignation, a copious amount of drinking, ranting. The ranting mind you, happened at the top of Mount Chiliad... which then led me to lose my footing... and then falling down miles of steep, rock-filled, unforgiving incline.... which led to me being in a two year coma.... not one of my proudest moments. Once I fully came back, I decided to rethink a few things in my life. For the time being, I've decided to focus on my private investigation company and officially became a coroner thanks to the questionably easy hiring processes there. If figured, after everything I went through... dealing with dead people seems like a much better career alternative.

I think it's a fair thing to say, that the coroner job is not in an optimal position as a viable job for most folks. First and foremost, the job's HQ is aaaaalll the way over in Paleto Bay. While I can see that there is a visual gag for placing the meat pickup spot in the same building as the dead body drop off, logistically speaking, it makes no sense at all. If anything, there are at least two easier to get to buildings around Central Medical that would be far more suited as the main HQ. I suggest the actual coroner's office or mortuary building as either a new or additional HQ people can go to to clock in. Having it the way it is now, not only makes it an inconvenience to people but it drives people away from wanting to do the job in the first place. Secondly, I've run into many a situation where a lot of folks don't know that the coroner service exists, let alone that there's a number you can dial for it. An easy solution for this would be to mention that the coroner service exists in-game. I mean there's Life Invader, Weazel ads, anything at all. Though there seems to be a Weazel policy against advertising for freelance jobs so that's an issue unto itself. However that, coupled with the issue mentioned in the last paragraph, as well as (as of this writing) a glitch that doesn't let people drop off dead bodies - is what's keeping this job (for lack of a better term) dead. If we can make it more easily accessible, make a small effort to remind people that it exists as a service and fix the current glitch that prevents people from being paid, we can inject some life into it. After all, wouldn't it be nice to have more viable legal ways to make money in the city? Otherwise I fear the Coroner position is going to shrivel up and die, on a vine of abandonment and neglect.

+1 Can confirm that the drop off function still doesn't work. I took the time to drive from the drop point in the city to the one in Paleto. Stored four body bags in the hearse's trunk and both drop offs are not working. No way to make any money from this job in its current state.

The Case of Love & Headaches: A Frank Fletcher Mini-Story It was a balmy Thursday evening in Los Santos. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like a pretty great day. Instead, a singular cloud of anxiety and depression was following me around like in those old cartoons. Hard to enjoy a beautiful day when your emotions are down in the dumps. I was still reeling over a misunderstanding I had with one of the closest friends I ever had in this city. We managed to surpass Three’s Company level misunderstandings and it led to our friendship to essentially explode in a cacophony of shouts. We haven’t spoken since the incident. Which is starting to make things awkward, especially since we work at the same place. It’s been a game of seeing each other and completely avoiding each other. I do it because I’m not sure how to approach the subject, let alone how to talk to her at this point. On her end? Who knows. I walked over to the closest convenience store and sauntered in. The store cleric noticed my emotionally drained expression and nodded in silent, solemn understanding. That’s one thing about this city. Some people really get ya. And speaking of which… “Frank!” A voice called out from the entrance of the store. I turned around to see Lindsay Hyde, panting, looking a bit winded. Lindsey was the kind of woman that (for the record) I still firmly believe is supposed to be out of my league. With lovely facial features, beautiful blonde hair and a figure that would leave you with your jaw on the floor. Needless to say, she looked pretty good. “Oh hey…” I answered, giving her a tired smile and a half-wave. “Don’t you ‘Oh hey’ me! I’ve been trying to call you all day! I was worried about you…” She explained. Her little frown of concern almost made everything all better. Almost. “I told ya not to worry…” I began, waving her over to join me at the counter. “I just needed some time to think. A lot’s happened in like, 24 hours…” I explained. I proceeded to ask the clerk for a cup of coffee of whatever they had. I wasn’t picky, I just needed something to give me some energy. “And I totally understand that. But you haven’t answered your phone or texts all morning!” She protested in that lovely tone of voice. I turned to her, opening my mouth to answer but then I thought about what she had said for a moment. Had it really been all morning? I took a moment to dig into one of my pants pockets, searching for my phone. When I found it, I pulled it out and looked at it. It was dead as a door nail. I must have forgotten to charge the dang thing last night. I was pretty emotionally compromised. I let out a long sigh, showing Lindsay the phone. She looked at it for a moment before pouting angrily. I could tell she wanted to stay mad at me but couldn’t. It was okay though, it went both ways. “Well, don’t be surprised when you get pinged for fifty-seven messages when you get your phone charged up.” She commented, walking over and standing next to me, seemingly perusing the store’s wares. The clerk coughed uncomfortably and went over to what looked like an overused, industrial sized coffee machine. He took out a plastic cup and placed it under the spigot, turning it on and letting the most likely stale coffee pour in. “What’s-her-face yelled at me too.” I winced when I heard Linsday say that. I was hoping this whole exchange would stay between me and the apparent ex. Unfortunately, things weren’t going to play out that way and I felt awful about it. “Oh God, I’m sorry Lindsay. I had no idea she was gonna act this way I-” I started to try to cobble together some sort of apology. She immediately held up a finger to my lips, cutting me off. “I’ve been through a lot worse you know.” She replied, moving to softly pat my cheek, as if to reassure me. It helped. I’m soft like that. “Besides, it’s not your fault. I’m just sorry she decided to behave that way...” She continued, suddenly looking a little sad, which caught me off guard. Lindsay Hyde was the most self assured, vocal and in-your-face person I knew. It wasn’t often you saw her as anything but. And yet, here she was, letting herself be as emotionally vulnerable as myself. It was a pretty sweet scene. Despite the fact that the store clerk awkwardly made himself busy by restocking the shelf behind him. “Sad part is…” I replied with a soft sigh. “We never really had a real understanding on what our relationship was.” “You both never talked about it?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “Of course we did! A bunch of times!” I found myself sounding exasperated, flailing my arms around like some sort of emotionally exhausted Kermit The Frog. I took a moment along with a couple of breaths before continuing. “I thought we had things figured out. I mean the woman went out with two people since we had that talk for Christ’s sake. How was I supposed to know me dating anyone was a no-no? She dated like two guys! Hell I don’t even think we were officially dating at any point. I was just sort of her ‘on reserve nice guy’. I don’t think that was a good relationship dynamic...” I never thought I’d hear myself say that but there it was. It felt overwhelmingly depressing. Lindsay reached over and took my hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze and gave me a kind smile to go along with it. “It’s not. It’s probably better this way anyway. It sounded like things were going to get pretty unhealthy, pretty quick.” She was always better at this stuff than I was. While I was skilled in talking down aggressive people and being diplomatic, she could see into your soul and see what’s what. She could tell whether or not people were genuine. A pretty dang amazing feat if you ask me. She’d make a pretty great detective. ...But don’t tell her I said that. It’d go to her head. She’s already borrowing my trench coat a lot as is… “Look uh…” Both Linsday and I looked over to the clerk who was standing there, rubbing the back of his neck. Cripes, I forgot about him. “I don’t want to be like, be rude or anything. But did either of you want anything else? Spacing out at work is hard to do when you’ve got two customers being all emotional and junk.” The clerk was truly a wordsmith. I looked down at the covered coffee cup that had been sitting there for a while. I nod to the clerk, and promptly paid him for the coffee. “What say you and I go fishin’ huh? Get our minds off of this whole mess for a while. We could go to my favorite spot?” I asked, offering my arm to her. Lindsay flashed an eager smile and hooked her arm around mine. “Sounds like a date detective!” Sometimes we gotta learn how to tuck and roll when being shoved out of the proverbial moving vehicle called life. Things can be fine one minute and then ultimately fly apart at the seems in the next. It’s important that we keep our wits about us, to try to hang in there. You can’t always find the silver lining on a dark and cloudy day but you can sure as hell get a lamp and make some artificial light. ...That analogy made more sense in my head. Ugh, nevermind. I’m going fishing.

(Thank you Mazen!) I woke up to the shrill sounds of an outdated alarm clock which sat on my nightstand. It was yet another glorious morning in Los Santos and (specifically) my studio apartment. Off the bat it’s nothing much to look at. It’s cramped, the hot water is broken half the time and the neighbors blast some sort of techno infused dance music all day and night. But hey, it’s home. After a lukewarm shower and feeding my cat Irene Adler, I decided to heat up yesterday’s leftovers and take a walk outside. Half of a corned beef reuben and freshly brewed instant coffee were on the menu today. Living large and in charge as they say. I took my sandwich and mug and proceeded outside. I made my way passed the dumpster filled alley and out into the public park where a fancy water fountain expelled water in different patterns. I sat down on a nearby bench and watched it for a while. My gaze eventually wandered over to the Los Santos Medical Center. The main hospital hub for the Los Santos Emergency Medical Services. Always busy as ever with ambulances whizzing out of the ambulance by and half a dozen random civilians running around, asking for painkillers. Basically, another day in paradise. I suppose you’re all wondering what a dink like me has been up to this entire time and if I’m still somehow alive. Well, I suppose I can spare a few moments before donning a stethoscope and a fedora. Life in LSEMS Never in my life did I think I’d end up in an administrative position, let alone working for a hospital. I suppose in a way, it’s poetic irony. I can’t recall the number of times I ended up in a hospital due to dangerous cases. I guess in a way it’s fitting that I’m working in one now. I reached the rank of lieutenant, which honestly, still baffles me to this very moment. I've never been one to try to excel at anything, let alone promotions and yet, here I am. Not only that but I was given the task to run the human resources department to boot. I suppose it's mainly because I'm a "people-person". However, now that I think about it, I guess it makes sense since a good chunk of the populous wouldn't know how to act nice if it fell on them like a 50-ton anvil. But I digress. It's amazing when you look at the stark differences between being a technician and a member of command. Your shift focuses pretty dramatically to putting out interpersonal fires with staff, paperwork, handling finances, paperwork, meetings upon meetings... and did I mention paperwork? I swear to God, I've got more papercuts than a master of origami. Needless to say, it's been taking me time to adjust. You see, I'm a very 'hands-on' kind of guy. Ever since I started working for the hospital, I clocked in and answered calls. Now that may not seem like much but with the recent population boom, a really slow night can easily become an EMT's worst nightmare. Hell, I remember having to handle 10 calls in a row being the only one on duty. Sure I was sweating profusely, voice cracking on the radio and driving like a certified lunatic but it was fun! ...To a degree anyway. Anyway, work life has taken a drastic turn. I've gone from answering calls to sitting inside the hospital and typing on a computer. It's not glamorous but boy-howdy is it important. I've come to have a newfound appreciation for administrative work. It takes a crazy amount of patience and a cool head to handle things. If you don't, you're liable to leap out the nearest window. Thankfully, I think I've got things figured out. Being A Nice Guy As previously mentioned, I've been often referred to as a 'people person'. This has its advantages as well as some disadvantages too. *Disadvantage #1: Nobody considers you a threat. So yea, I'm not an imposing threat. I couldn't scare a kitten dressed as a dog. This has led me to develop a bit of a personality change. When I first arrived in Los Santos, I was skiddish, nervous and an overall a hot mess. Nowadays someone can aim a gun at me and I'll end up giving them a thoroughly thought out and very angry oral essay on why they're an asshole and why I think they're a blemish to modern society. I think I've officially become jaded. *Disadvantage #2: People mistake kindness for weakness. I can't tell you how many times people have tried to use, abuse and outright walk all over me. Any hope that most of the citizens of Los Santos were any better than the lowlifes of Liberty City have been quickly dashed. While I refuse to stoop to their level and use violence or emotional abuse as a means of response or retaliation, I instead get up, dust myself off and keep going and I keep being nice. Strength is more than just muscle, it's also resolve. I could go on but it may as well be a book at that point and I'm at least going to get compensated in a publishing deal if I'm gonna dish out prior traumas and ill experiences. Overall, I like to think I'm still a nice guy. I just refuse to put up with anyone's bull crap anymore. Love Life I've got a couple of rules I live by in life. Never use guns, never make mountains out of molehills and never fall in love. The latter was easy to do when I first arrived in the city. I stuck out like a sore thumb after being clubbed with a hammer and nobody typically gets interested in weird, old, out of shape dudes who's soul has been eternally trapped in the 1940's. That being said, I was surprised to have run into a few situations where the concept of mutual attraction was thrown into play. Now I'm not gonna name names, I ain't a kiss and tell kind of guy. Let's just say I've encountered two people in the city that impacted me a great deal. The first person was a lovely woman with an even lovelier accent. We both worked at LSEMS so it was kind of easy to keep bumping into each other. We starting spending time off duty and things from that point on just kind of clicked. She came from a very tough background. She had been through some pretty awful stuff in her past so I assume I was a breathe of fresh air. We semi-dated for a while before ultimately ending things before it really went anywhere. At first our schedules matched pretty perfectly but as time went on, of course, life happened. Next thing we know, we're not seeing each other as often and if there's one thing I know about relationships, is that you can't have a successful one if you can't even see each other. We ended things on mutual terms and are still dear friends to this day. She's been there for me as often as I've been there for here and honestly, I'm just glad to have gotten the chance to know her. Person number two is, I suppose, the most recent. Well I'm currently seeing her as I'm writing this so that's about as recent as recent gets. Just like my first love, she became smitten with my personal demeanor. Which is only fair because I fell for hers too. We clicked pretty early on and we've been enjoying each others company immensely. We've found that we like a lot of the same things and we also find it pretty hard not to flirt with each other. We joke, we tease and we often find ourselves talking for hours on end. Only time will tell on where this relationship goes but I'm not worried. I'll just enjoy my time with her however long that may be. Being A Private Investigator As you may or may not recall, I'm a former private investigator. I've been one for most of my life, so it's a skill set that doesn't tend to just evaporate once you quit the gig full time. In fact, during my tenure in LSEMS, I find myself using those familiar abilities time and time again. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that a large portion of the population of Los Santos aren't exactly squeaky clean. So it payd to be observant, cautious and above all responsive to any given situation. For example, any given call can place a prospective patient anywhere. Sometimes when they dial 911, their location changes for whatever reason. That's when we have to put on our detective hats on try to find them. Nine times out of ten, they've been taken by a friend to the hospital themselves. Other times their genuinely trapped and incapacitated on a roof, in a tree, smacked against a lamppost, head first into a dumpster. So it’s helpful to have a set of skills that help you find a lost and myriad person. I’ve also taken the time to lease out an office at a really fancy building. I figured I can work out of there whenever I have the odd case that finds me. It’s hard to leave the sleuthing life behind. I breathed out a content sigh as gazed up and the bright blue sky. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty dang good all things considered. This momentary peacefulness was interrupted by a flurry of emergency lights and sirens. I looked over at the hospital to see practically every vehicle rush out of there. “Must be a code one…” I thought to myself. I shoved the last bit of sandwich into my mouth and downed the rest of my coffee. WIth that, I ran back into my apartment, tossed the mug into the sink, told Irene I loved her after a few pets and ran out the door, towards the hospital. It looked like I was in for a long shift that day. Sweet.

Day 1 After landing in Los Santos, I quickly realized that I had two immediate problems. I was broke and I had nowhere to live. Luckily enough, I noticed that the local post office was hiring. Go Postal was the regional parcel delivery service and they were looking for a few good people to assume the mantle of 'delivery driver'. The hiring process was streamlined and simple. It took place in the dingy, cozy, questionably healthy human resource office in the main building. An older, grizzly man sat at a desk as he interviewed me. "So, you wanna be a delivery driver huh? Well here at Go Postal, we take delivering packages very seriously." The man said as he shoved a few parcels marked 'fragile' straight off of his desk. "Are you prone to having blackouts?" "Not at all!" I said with as chipper a voice as I could muster. For a moment, I thought the man didn't believe me. But then he asked... "...Are you prone to having blackouts?" It was evident I had very little to worry about at this job. Once I got the keys to my large and annoyingly hard to maneuver van, all I had to do was make sure packages got to where they needed to go. I would get paid per delivery so as to discourage any slacking off. That's all fine and dandy but some deliveries were all the way out in the Senora Desert! Though in the end, I really wasn't one to complain. I mean, I needed the money. Properties were way out of my immediate price range so I decided to get a car and live out of it for a while. I eventually saved up enough money to buy myself a Glendale. It was an old car but had way more pep than I expected. Had to constantly fight down a ravenous engine when trying to obey the speed limit. I was 90% sure that the car was used in a drug smuggling ring. Day 7 One night, I ran into a guy named Caleb. He was hanging out around the bank and apparently my appearance amused him enough to come talk to me while I went to cash in my paycheck. Caleb seemed like a decent guy and like me, was looking for a way to make ends meet. I told him about the possible job prospects in the area but I think he was more in the market for a job that would give him fast cash. I couldn't blame him though, things in Los Santos were ridiculously expensive! A young man named Rivaldi joined us as we conversed outside the bank. Everything was more or less uneventful until we met a gentleman by the name of James Sinclair. Mister Sinclair oozed charisma and entrepreneurship. He also had an air of suspicion about him but I was hardly on a case, so I didn't think too much about it. He came up to us and laid out the foundation of his business. Selling crates and renting out trucks for a modest fee. I could tell Caleb was immediately interested in the proposal. Mining seemed to have a pretty optimal risk-reward ratio. I on the other hand was content with my delivery job. However I agreed to drive him and Rivaldi to the mine in question so they could get the lay of the land. Of course, that's when everything went wrong. We found the mine in the outskirts of Blaine County. It wasn't completely in the desert but close enough so it ended up being quite the journey there. Upon arrival, it was clear to see that it was a hot spot for many would-be miners. "Let's check it out!" Rivaldi said before running in. After checking out the mine and it's unintended creepiness, both Rivaldi and Caleb decided that they wanted to try out mining. I rolled my eyes and agreed to hang out with them to keep them company. Next thing I know, they get me a pickax and tell me to come along. We went back into the mine and proceeded to try our hand at mining various stones and minerals there. That's went things started to go wrong. There was a heated exchange between someone who was minding their own business. Caleb got mad, insulted a stranger's hair and was shot repeatedly as a result. Panicked and trying not to get shot ourselves, me and Rivaldi reasoned with the stranger and called 911. Soon the stranger ran away and police were on the scene, handcuffing everyone in the vicinity. Caleb and Rivaldi tried to spin it as if the stranger had stolen things from them but luckily the officers decided to listen to me as I tried to tell them what actually happened. The end result was Caleb getting rushed to the hospital and Rivaldi swearing revenge on the stranger. Me? I had enough mining for one life time. I was just glad that one of the police officers on scene were trained to stabilize injured people. I wished I could do that, help people again. Maybe even keep people from dying. Maybe I could get a job doing that?

Frank Fletcher: Former Private Eye, Current EMT & Junior Amateur Coroner Sometimes life deals you a crappy hand. All we can do is make the best of what we get. Life in Liberty City The name's Fletcher, Frank Fletcher. I operated a modest one man private investigation company out of Liberty City for over a decade. Now a lot of people consider me rather... eccentric. I don’t use a gun you see. In fact the only weapons I ever used were my wits and my ability to run. In my opinion, guns do far more harm than good. That being said, it did make my job ten times harder than it needed to be but I was alright with that. Sure I’ve gotten shot, beat up, run over and nearly drowned. But hey, I’m still alive aren’t I? I had an office in downtown Algonquin which I acquired at a pretty modest price. Office space tends to be cheaper when a murder gets committed there. I decided to live out of it as well since I didn’t make nearly enough money for an apartment and an office. For a better half of a decade I investigated hundreds of cases there. From missing persons, to kidnapping, to jealous spouses and even to your run of the mill corporate espionage, I’ve seen it all. What I didn’t expect was to one day be approached by a mercenary who wanted to learn about how to become a private detective. The Mercenary It was a quiet and uneventful Wednesday morning. I just had breakfast and was sitting down at my desk which faced the front door of the office and was about to start sifting through some case files, when she walked in. Her name was Cassidy Berringer. She was one of the most skilled and ruthless mercenaries ever to walk the streets of Liberty City. She had an air of danger and violence that radiated from her. She was feared by lowlifes and despised by top criminals. She was a force to be reckoned with. She had fiery red hair, piercing green eyes and a large scar that traveled along her face. She had a strong build that indicated that she could easily break an arm or a leg if she wanted to. She wore dark green camo pants, black combat boots, a black tactical shirt and a military grade flak jacket on top. She was a tiny bit intimidating to say the least. When she noticed I wasn’t diving for a gun or leaping out the nearest window, she proceeded to tell me what she wanted. She was actually looking for a new career and I was the only person willing to hear her out. Most people either told her to get lost or ran away, screaming for their lives. As odd as the request was, she didn’t strike me as the deceptive kind. I could imagine she could keep her mouth shut about a vast array of non-too legal activities but from what I’ve heard and read up on, deception wasn't her thing. I ended up throwing caution to the wind and offered her a position as my partner in my detective agency. Good God, do I ever regret doing that. We went on to work on dozens of cases together. Needless to say, it was nice having someone watching my back for a change. We worked well together and frankly, it was the most fun I had in that job. Apparently she was easy to get along with when you weren’t on her hit list. But of course, all good things must eventually come to an end. The Setup One day we received a call about a prospective case. It seemed a father was desperate to get his daughter out of a prostitution ring that they had been forced into. Naturally me and Cassidy jumped at the chance to do a little good while earning a paycheck. Unfortunately, the case was an outright ruse and we were played like two fine tuned fiddles. The prostitute’s name was Misty, a middle aged woman who was perfectly content in her line of work. She didn’t know what we were talking about when we brought up the distressed father in question after barging into her place. Someone went out of their way to falsify information in order to get us to try to get Misty’s client killed. And of course, her client was none other Joey Leone, son of Don Salvatore Leone of the Leone crime family. It wouldn’t have been so bad if cooler heads prevailed but in the heat of the moment, Cassidy put a bullet into Joey’s leg. To put it simply. We were quite fucked. Me and Cassidy were taken for patsies and were way in over our heads. We took Joey to the family ‘doctor’ to have him patched up but the damage was done. As understanding as Joey was, he knew it would eventually get out that there was an attempt on his life. It was evident that whoever hired us was keen on making sure that that info got out and that the notorious Cassidy Berringer was behind the botched ‘hit’. Cassidy wanted to ditch Liberty City and disappear to start a new life somewhere else. There was no way the don of a mafia family would let anyone shoot his son and get away with it, misunderstanding or not. However I made it clear that I wasn’t running anywhere. I was going straight to Salvatore Leone himself, explain the situation and let the chips fall where they may. Running from city to city, always looking over your shoulder? That’s not living. If you’re going to do that, you may as well be dead. We agreed to disagree and Cassidy promptly left, leaving me to pay the piper. I honestly couldn’t blame her. I still don’t. Who would be dumb enough to throw themselves at the mercy of a mafia don, knowing the only natural response was that they’d get killed? This guy, that’s who. I made some final preparations before going to see the Don that night. Calling friends, saying goodbyes, tying up as many loose ends as I could. It was the end of the road and I wanted to make sure the final chapter didn’t end too abruptly. The Don Joey was nice enough to take me to the Don himself. Thanks to my reputation, he knew I wasn’t about to do anything stupid. Instead I stood before Salvatore Leone in his office. Weaponless and ready to accept my judgement. But before anything was said or decided, it was brought to the don’s attention that Cassidy Berringer was downstairs, requesting an audience with him. Apparently my do-gooding rubbed off on Cassidy. She showed up after all. Which kind of sucks because I was hoping she did end up running away. No sense in both of us getting killed. Yet there we were, together again, one last time. The Don listened as Cassidy and I pleaded our case. Hell, even Joey tried to throw his hat in for us. He thought the entire thing was pretty funny. Obviously our definitions of ‘funny’ differ drastically. “Who shot my boy?” That question haunts me to this very day. The Don asked that during our meeting with him but he already knew the answer. Me and Cassidy both had an extensive reputation in the city and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who pulled the trigger. I remember Cassidy letting out a long sigh before looking at me. She gave me a smile, one that I’d only see when she was cleaning her guns or reading a comic book in the office. A smile that I can still see when I close my eyes. “Promise me something Frank.” I remember her saying. My eyes were wide, my lips quivered, I had a million things I wanted to say but nothing came out. “If you get out of this, make sure to never stop living. Not because of me or anyone else. You’re a good man.” She then faced the Don with the kind of bravery I’ve seen countless times before, even with bullets whizzing past her head. She promptly admitted to shooting Joey in the leg out of the entire misunderstanding. With a cold and emotionless nod, Salvatore Leone signaled for one of his bodyguards to come in and escort Cassidy out of the room. My blood ran cold. It wasn’t hard to guess what just took place. The old man then stood up and sauntered over to me, looking me up and down. “Toni says I should whack both of you and be done with it.” He stated as a matter of fact. I swallowed audibly. This prompted an unexpected chuckle from the seemingly emotionally deaf Don. “I’ve heard a lot about you kid. Aside from associating with the red-haired grim reaper, you’re pretty alright.” The Don took a step towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving me a serious look. “I’m only gonna make this offer once. You get out of Liberty State and you don’t ever come back. You come back and you’re as good as dead.” My throat was as dry as the Sahara Desert. It took me a few tries but I was finally able to speak. “W-what about Cassidy?” “Kid, if I let someone who shot my boy get away with it, what sort of precedent do you think that would make?” I looked at the ground and said nothing. “You’ve got moxie kid, I like that about you. Do yourself a favor and make the smart choice.” What else could I do? I sold all of my Earthly possessions, packed as much as I could and took a plane across the country. That’s why I ended up here in Lost Santos. To start a new life and hopefully avoid trouble.