skin color=s/c
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My father was never really good at anything. He was a mediocre father, a terrible boyfriend or husband, and a disgraceful son. He could never quite grasp working an actual job, or even the meaning of living a normal life. I was probably one of the worst things that could've happened to him. Spending one night with a hooking, spending 9 months thinking nothing of it. Then, boom. Suddenly you're a father. Anything close to a "normal life" would run the risk of people knowing who he was, and my Papá dispised people knowing any information on him. It's why he worked his way off the charts by staging his suicide.
My Papá "killed himself" by jumping off one of Los Santos' brigdes and"dying on impact" moments before getting run over by a woman in a speeding pickup truck.
The man how actually died was named Juan. He was my fathers doppelgänger, from what I remember. Black hair like coal, with little silver streaks where his white hairs where beginning to glow. Dusty navy suit pants with suspenders, strapped over a wife beater. The two had large round guts like pregnant bellies, big arms, and skinny legs. That was all we knew before my father shoved him into his doom.
This cruelty gave my father his greatest weapon, anonymity. It's what brought him to East Los Santos' attantion, as the phantom of the bank. The police couldn't find him. Citizens couldn't figure out what was a piece of the puzzle and what just wasn't. The tinfoil hats thought of him as a mischievous alien or some sort of pawn for the government. But he was far from a pawn. As a child he'd make me promise him I'd never let anyone, man or woman, tell me what to do. He'd go as far as to give me impossible tasks like cleaning the alleyways, to make me fight for my freedom. But I never listened to him.
In spite of my father, I got a job in the Madrazo Cartel as Martin Madrazo's "designated interrogator", also known as a torturer. When I'm needed I meet Mr Madrazo at an abandon warehouse, he asks the hard hitting questions and tells me how to punish the client, I bring the pain without uttering a word. Then, I get 14%-17% of the profit.
But still. I'm still seen as lurking the streets of Los Santos, the reincarnation of my father. I'm seen as a demon. But I'm just a 28 year old Mexican woman, no gang affiliation, only my one friend in the whole world, Lester Crest.
That's all. That's the real Y/n Rodriguez.
YOU ARE READING
Bloody Mary { Michael De Santa x Reader }
FanfictionYou know her, Bloody Mary, like the Queen of England. But in this case, she's the "Queen of Underground Los Santos." Supposedly she was raised around death. Every woman her father would bring around was dead within twelve hours, presumably so he wou...
