I black out - well, not often, but sometimes. I'm not entirely certain why this happens, what it means, or if these questions really even matter. I just know that...it happened at the wrong time. No, I wasn't driving...I was with someone. "Was" being the operative word.
When I came to be on the hills just outside of Los Santos, it was all flashing lights. My forehead was bleeding, my car was gone, and there was yellow tape surrounding a black mass in the tall grass. Officers were taking photos and examining the area around it. I was taken into the station, asked some questions that I don't really remember. I was then dropped off at home where I lived alone. I slept...and slept.....and slept.
The next couple of years following the tragedy were difficult for me. I spent time down in Vice City...training to be a cop. Finally, with my badge in hand, I moved back home and gained the courage to walk back into the station I was interrogated in.
"I'd like to protect and serve."