- Jan 6, 2010
THE GLORIFYING RETURN OF ZACHARY HOPKINS
The midnight moon glared down onto the rim of Zachary's wine glass. He sat in the balcony of the 10 million dollar mansion. The butler returned to him, serving him the best of all cheese and bread. Zachary glanced back toward the butler, delicately taking the plate from the tray. He rested it on his table, crumbling the bread and cheese in his fingers as he stares toward the city.
He ran the media in liberty city. Top CEO of LCNEWS. He adjusted his three thousand eight hundred dollar Canali suit, smirking to himself. The city gleamed in his eyes. Fame, celebrities, gossip. It was all controlled by him. He brought the cheese to his mouth, lightly resting it on his lips as he narrows his left eye. He heard the faint sound of metal connecting to stone. What he realized next was that he was being ambushed by men in black, wielded with fully automatic M4A1's.
"Fuck." Zachary said with an outburst. The men came toward him, smashing the butt of the gun against Zachary's stomach, he lunched over, giving out a faint moan. That's when all hell broke loose. A Hebrew man ran from the balcony doors, facing the men with guns. They all brought the guns up, aiming toward the man.
"Shit!" The Hebrew said with an accent. The man flew toward the back of a statue of a lady in a dress, as bullets were shot at it. Specs of marble flying off and creating a cloud of dust. They stopped after about ten seconds of firing, keeping their ears open. The Hebrew man came down from the roof of the room, down onto the balcony, firing his USP.22's as he did. Bullets were sent straight into the men's domes. Most of them dropped, and during that time, Zachary made a run for it toward his room. He dove for his bathroom, slamming the door shut.
The Hebrew man was one of Hopkins' top hitmen. Most experienced with wielding a gun and fighting arm-to-arm. Zachary shuffled through the drawers for his Beretta M9. He found it, in the last drawer under a few wash rags. As he picked it up, it stumped in his nervous, unsteady hands. He tried to shove a new round of ammo into it, until he heard a man scream outside from all of the firing. He immediately froze as he listened, slowly pulling the hammer back. He crept out the door to see every single man in black dead on the balcony.
"Sir, this way!" The Hebrew man tapped Zachary on the shoulder then kept running toward the elevator out of the room. They hit the switch to the basement, inputting a code. They then waited patiently as it went down. Zachary stood in position, his arms rested in front of him. He glanced to his right, straight at the man.
"Thanks, Joseph. I'll keep what you just did in mind."
Joseph let out a chuckle as he elevator door opened. They walked into the hallway, toward a large metal door. Joseph rested his hand on the surface of the screen, then inputting a 15 digit code. The metal door let out carbon dioxide, making a loud puffing sound. It then slowly moved down, and they walked through. Inside were many types of computers and electronics. Men and women of all different looks and sizes walked around, looking rather occupied. Zachary followed straight behind Joseph, eyeing everyone he passed. As he did so, he tucked the firearm securely into his shoulder holster under his suit.
They came to a large database of computers, and Joseph immediately slid into the cold, metal chair. He rapidly typed into the keyboard, bringing up a file of a Russian looking man.
"Vladimir Sokolov. Top Russian hitman. His target was you."
Zachary stared at the eyes of the man on the giant screen. "If he was trying to kill me, why didn't he do it there?" Then a flashback ran through his mind. The eyes of the man matched the one who was aiming the gun at him. The image replayed through his mind perfectly. The mask covered his face, but his eyes stood out. Black and evil. Hatred flowed through them. Then the butt of the gun was sent toward him, and Zachary snapped back into reality.
"Ah-hah'. He wanted to get something out of you. Money.. information.. I don't know, whatever it is, you have to go. Now. Back to Red County. I'll have Bledsoe the butler set up your suitcase. I'll also get him to order your plane ticket to Los Santos. You'll have to get out-a' there immediately though once you arrive. You can't attract much attention. Dress plainly."
Hopkins was speechless as he glanced around. Each assassin stared at him with respect. His hitman organization was surely a success, but he would be leaving it today. He then turned without a word and headed back to the elevator. "Oh, and one more thing.. One guy escaped. Don't know who, but just watch out. I'll send Theodore with you."
Zachary glanced toward a 6'5 African American man come toward him. He was large and buffed. Definitely an intimidating guy.
Zachary left the house with his suitcase, Theodore carrying two more. They shuffled into the limousine, then it immediately pulled off. You would be able to slightly hear the screeching of tires for a distance. They drove quickly down toward the airport. Once they arrived toward the parking garage, they could only find a space at the very top. They parked there, then stepped out. The wind came fast and brushed through Zachary's long, combed back hair. The limo pulled off quickly and back out of the parking garage. Zachary and Theodore watched it leave. They holstered up their suitcases, until Zachary froze completely. A russian man that looked very familiar to Vladimir aimed a .40 caliber desert eagle at his face. Theodore dropped the suitcase and dove behind a car, unholstering his .357 magnum. Vladimir then dove for cover as he heard bullets being shot. Zachary ran for the car Theodore was at, and hid behind it. Shots were being fired back and forth. One hit Theodore in his arm. He yelped in pain, then switched the gun to his better arm. They exchanged fire more, but Theodore had a hard time shooting. He then stood up to fire directly toward Vladimir, but a bullet caught Theodore in the neck, then in the eye, and then right in his forehead. Theodore dropped, and Zachary's glare was fixed directly on him.
Zachary then scrambled for the gun, getting a grip at the handle and reloading it as quickly as he possibly could. He waited behind the car for as long as he could. Then he saw the footsteps coming toward him from under the car. He scooted more to his left, trying to get farther from Vladimir. He then saw Vladimir face-to-face. Vladimir aimed the gun toward Zachary, but Zachary was quick to aim the .357 to his right as fast as he could. He fired, and the bullet hit Vladimir in his aiming hand. Half of his hand was shot off, as well as the gun coming out of his grip.
Zachary smirked as he stood up slowly, still having the gun aimed at Vladimir.
"No, please, no. You do not have to do 'zis! I have done no-thing wrong! Please! No!"
He pulled the trigger multiple times, bullets hitting Vladimir in the chest three times. He then aimed the gun up more, firing once toward Vladimir's neck. Vladimir hit the ground, resting his palm roughly against the neck wound. "Fuck.. aaagh!"
Zachary walked over on top of Vladimir, firing more down onto him, hitting him in the legs, arms, and stomach. He then sent a kick toward Vladimir's temple, and he screamed in pain.
Hopkins walked off, leaving him to suffer to death.
He got the ticket from his suitcase before he left toward the elevator of the garage. Then off to the airport, and into the plane. He flew to LS peacefully with no distractions, no bad thoughts. He arrived later that night to Los Santos. He immediately took a taxi to the border of LS, and hitch hiked to an old apartment complex in Blueberry. He thanked the friendly, old, hick driver with a brown paper bag containing two thousand dollars. Zachary rested peacefully in an unsold apartment, passing out on the bed.
The next morning he awoke to a completely new adventure. A new life. Zachary Hopkins returned to Red County with everything he's got. He's going to make his stay successful.