It’s supposed to be an easy job. Drive to the observatory, pick up the car, drive back. Simple, right?
Heh. This is Los Santos, nothing is ever simple. I’m lazing on the beach in Del Perro when I get the text from Simeon. A Mammoth Patriot. Parked at the observatory. Bring it to the docks. I stand, brush sand off my skirt, grab my jacket and jump in my Fusilade.
The drive up to the observatory is uneventful. I keep an eye on my GPS to ensure no one else is around, watching the white blips just in case. Not a reliable indicator as I make my way through the twisting roads of Vinewood Hills. My Fusilade handles the corners well, but other cars are not so lucky. Still, I get away with only a couple of minor dings as I make may way to the observatory.
I pull into the carpark, and the Patriot is right there. Good. Easy. Suddenly, gunfire. I sprint to the hulking white vehicle, smash the window to get at the door and scramble in. I don’t even look to see where the gunfire is coming from. There’s blood on my racerback. Shit. I hurriedly start the car and back out. The guy on the motorbike behind me. He’s the one. I fire off a few bursts from my SMG, and manage to hit him. His bike falls, and I run it over just to make sure.
That bought some time. I make my way carefully back down the hill. The Patriot is huge, and handles accordingly. Getting away from a madman on a motorbike is going to take all my skill as a driver. He catches up to me just as I hit the road back into Vinewood Hills. More shots. He’s right behind me.
I feel a sudden bump, and the sound of metal on asphalt. My front right tyre is gone. I fire back, missing. It doesn’t matter, the gunman goes flying over the bonnet of a passing car. He won’t be bothering me again.
I have bigger problems. Going too fast and about to take a tight corner with no steering. I brace myself as the Patriot goes over the edge and down the embankment. I barely manage to keep it out of someone’s pool, but now I’m stuck in their backyard. I manage to find a gap big enough between their house and side fence to somehow fit the massive SUV through, and then down their front steps and back onto the road.
I drive cautiously through Vinewood, towards a Los Santos Customs. It’s buried in a small industrial area under a freeway interchange. I can see white dots on my GPS. I hope they aren’t closing in. I pull into LS Customs. The car needs repairs and a respray before Simeon will take it, and I get both. These guys work fast, and I’m out of there in under an hour. It’s like having a permanent pit crew. Only cost me $1200, too.
I get back out into South Los Santos and start heading towards the docks. I feel a bit more at ease now. The guy on the bike has disappeared, and I’m not at risk of being chased by cops. New paint, new car. Cops are dumb. I have a nervous moment as another car crosses an intersection in front of me. He either doesn’t notice me, or doesn’t care. I speed up over the bridge into the ports and head around to the drop off point.
Simeon is waiting outside a warehouse with another man I don’t recognise. I pull into the warehouse and get out. Simeon is pleased with my work, and hands me a stack of hundreds. I briefly consider telling him about the trouble I had getting the Patriot here, but choose to say nothing. Simeon isn’t one for that kind of detail.
I walk out and look around. There aren’t many cars around here, and I don’t fancy walking back. A blue car starts driving towards me. He’s going to try and run me down. I sprint across the roadway into the maze of shipping containers beyond. I find a gap too narrow for the car to get down. It’s still wide enough for some well-placed machine gun fire. I keep moving as he drives around.
I keep moving through the crates, changing direction whenever possible to throw him off.I climb up a shipping container that doesn’t have anything on top of it and hurriedly bank my cash. I can hear him honking his horn as I try to figure out what to do next.
The best course of action is direct action. I look around to see where he is, and head straight towards him. I walk out of the shipping containers with my shotgun already drawn. I don’t hesitate at all. I raise my gun as I walk right up to his window. He’s still honking his horn. I put two slugs into his face, and then throw him out of the car. I climb in and drive off as fast as I can.
Something bugs me as I drive. It was too easy. He didn’t even try to fire back. I try to reason out why. Just sat there honking his horn. It’s only when I get back to my car, still parked up at the observatory, that I figure it out.
He was trying to give me a lift.
All of San Andreas is yours for the taking
Huge variety of missions and activities
Other players make the world feel alive and dangerous
Ongoing connectivity problems due to heavy load
Expect to die at the hands of other players a lot