Flames erupt from my customized Peacekeeper as I jump over a gap in the bridge. The sleek car’s jet-black exterior reflects the nighttime city lights as I race through crowded streets. This is one of the first cars I 'jacked in Steelport, and it’s also my favorite. The stenciled “Police” decals are still faintly visible on the door. I installed some purple highlights to mark it as a Third Street Saints ride. I’ve added some other features as well...
I earn respect as I drive through oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding head-on collisions that could send me flying through my windshield. Kanye West’s “Power” is fading on the radio. It’s quickly replaced by Schooly D’s “ATHF Theme Remix” - why wouldn’t it be? As I drift through a turn my tires squeal but hold tight to the road. Like most of the vehicles in my garage, the Peacekeeper has excellent control. I’m not sure where I’m heading, but one things for certain, something is going to blow up when I get there. That happens when I’m around. A lot.
My cell phone rings. I’m told the Morningstar gang is trying to encroach on one of my prostitution operations. I could ignore it and do something else, but I really hate those guys. I follow my GPS to the front of a garish cathedral. Jumping out of my car, I let my vehicle careen at full speed through an intersection. I turn away from the sound of smashing steel and screaming people. The cries of the citizens of Steelport mean nothing to me, and they love me all the more for it.
Opulence. I has it.
I quickly equip my 45 Shepherd pistols, old friends. One of the first things I did when I reached Steelport was fully upgrade these workhorses. They are as good, if not better than, most of my other weaponry. I approach the hated Morningstars, recognizing their black and red colors. The male members wear suits, while the females wear lingerie. Classy. It doesn’t matter. They’re all armed and on my turf. They are clearly hassling Zimo’s whores, roughing up my merchandise. My purple trench coat ripples behind me as I take aim at the nearest thug and fire.
The 45 Shepherds bark to life as I pull off head shots with precision aim. The merch runs for cover as the remaining gangsters return fire. I shred them to pieces and close the distance. My time in Steelport has hardened me. I’m almost impervious to gunfire. As I finish off the last thug more red and black cars arrive. Lambs to the slaughter.
Instead of aiming at the gangsters I focus on their vehicles. My 45’s explosive rounds blow through the metal, causing the cars to catch fire. Morningstars dive from their burning vehicles - too late. The first car explodes in a windstorm of fiery death, instantaneously taking the other vehicle with it. A rocket soars by my head. Someone’s shooting at me from behind. Oh no they didn’t...