‘No Patricia no, I’m playing golf I tell you golf.’
Certainly she must know.
It’s impossible to swing a golf club, call out ‘Fore’ and be on a mobile phone all at once.
The woman inside me wants desperately for her to know how full of shit he is, wants to grab the mobile from his well manicured, pinkie ring wearing hand and tell her everything.
…but the killer…the killer inside of me, the one who still wears the warm, thick blood across her face, the final acts of the dead and dying left just moments before in a car park on the east side, doesn’t give a fuck. Just pay me.
…and again, and again, and maybe just one more time, and well, if I do just one more I’ll level up, could probably just fit in another before logging off right?
Thus goes Rooftop Rumble. My own Pavlovian hell. Hand the package to Madrazo and watch the empty bar along the top of my screen begin to fill with blue ‘respect’ points, once empty segments overflowing into the next, higher and higher, as satisfying as sticky sweet morphine that explodes in the base of my skull and slowly spreads it warmth….whoopsie, I digress. I want to quit, I do, the Rooftop Rumble I mean of course, but it’s so simple you can literally staple a controller to a three legged kitten with ADD and you will still collect massive RP and piles of pretend money! Level after level, million after millions……….until what? I’m already a higher level than I thought I’d ever be, I’ve unlocked the Mini-Gun, the Western Shirt, and every pair of truly hideous footwear on offer, and I’ve bought them all. Why not, I’ve also gathered an obscene amount of money, now each million dollar mark becomes my new zero, I can’t let the balance dip below those new millions, but how much is enough, when does it end, HOW MANY YACHTS CAN YOU WATER SKI BEHIND MR. GEKKO?!?
What am I after? Will there ever be enough to fill this hole inside of me, this monster that grows more and more hungry each time I flatten an unsuspecting pedestrian, each time I peel the cap off one of LSPD’s finest, each and every time I squeeze that now well worn, platinum trigger? I’m not sure, but somewhere on the highway between Los Santos and Paleto Bay, the answer is out there, waiting.
In the meantime if I don’t answer invitations to Races and Missions, I’m not farming cash and RP on Rooftop Rumble I swear, no I’m out with Martin Madrazo, playing golf.
PS – There is no rooftop.