My Name Is Terry Dacktyll (The Second)

[TerryIIDacktyll 2]

"After five years on the East Coast, it's time to go home..."
-Carl Johnson

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My parents named me after my twin brother. He was born first. My parents aren't the creative type.

Me and him, we grew up in Liberty City trying to get into a career involving cars. Race cars, Police cars, RC cars, don't matter... just... cars. He would drive them into a tree, I would be the one buffing out the dents. 

We dreamed of flying out to Los Santos to enjoy the car culture out West; namely the various imports that've spent their lives in the warm climate, free of rust, which is a luxury where we are from. 

Eventually we graduated high school and saved enough money working at the shop to finally make the move. The moment we'd been working for basically our whole lives. This is it! 

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"After five minutes in Los Santos, My brother got shot..."
-Terry Dacktyll II (That's me!)

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Literally. Five minutes.
A friend had picked us up from the airport. He was going to give us the grand tour; the landmarks, the big Vinewood sign... But we hadn't even made it onto the freeway when some fucker in a mask rolled up and shot at us. I can't remember much except the sound of it all. GRRATATATATA WOOSH WHIZ. The glass crackling onto the asphalt, the echo bouncing off the overpass... I hear it still today & My ears ring because of it. It didn't make sense. We didn't know who he was. He didn't want the car. He wasn't aiming at anyone in particular. Why the hell did this happen to happen? Just... an abundance of these fucking unanswered questions that poke at my sanity. But the question that bothers me the most is,

"What do I want to do about it?"

[Chubbs 53]

Wow very great writing, honestly felt like I was starting a new book when I began to read. Also love the name! Welcome

[sleeping-_- 19]

Welcome great story I cant wait to meet you in the city!