... I've been having a really hard time lately. No money, my brain hurting from a lack of happy pills, my emotions rolling like a damn roller coaster, happy one second and angry as hell the next. I have a body that hates me, a car that randomly stalls and smells like a skunk on fire, bad scheduling has made me the ONLY employee in my department, and there's something inside me that just won't stop telling me that something, I don't know what but definitely something, is wrong.
That is why I have once again resumed the beloved Galindo family killing spree.
It's been a while since I've roamed the gritty streets of New York City on a stolen motorcycle, driving on the sidewalk and killing people randomly. And it damn sure feels good.
Except this time around, though, I am trying my hardest to be a good cop. I beat the game previously but as a bad cop, so I got the shitty ending. Now I patrol the gritty streets of NYC and only OCCASIONALLY sell police evidence to the nearest pawn shop so I can have enough money to buy a flame thrower.
I don't want to be good. I want to loot and scream and yell and fight and fuck. But I'm trying to be good, for whatever the hell that's worth. I guess I get some invisible medal for that.