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BUYG: Build Up Your Gang

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  • mark-2007

    Big Homie

  • The Connection
  • Joined: 09 Apr 2006


Posted 15 May 2008 - 02:22 AM

So, here's a rarity from me - a story!

And the 20th chapter too, yeah!



The Leones
Cipriani's Ristorante

Chapter Twenty: Pole Proposition

I rubbed at my nose and sniffed; an icy cold trickle slipped down my throat and sent shivers across my body. I looked at the alarm clock. 6.47 AM and I was still awake, more awake than I’d felt in years actually. A small amount of coke was left on my bedside table so I leant over and got rid of the evidence. It hit my bloodstream with a pang and I blinked. I was on top of the world at that moment, I could do anything and nothing could stop me. For now though, I was going to get a glass of water. I sprang out of bed and made my way silently downstairs. The kitchen was swamped in darkness as I entered it. I flicked the light switch on and headed to the sink. The cold water filled my glass and I took a gulp of it.

Not in the slightest tired, I made my way through to the living room and slumped down on the sofa. The television was off so I found the remote and tuned in to the sports channel. It was too early for any live games, so a replay of last weeks NFL action was playing. I watched for a while before turning off and heading back upstairs. My room was empty as expected so I relaxed on the bed, wide-eyed and awake. All of a sudden I felt vulnerable; I drew my knees up to my chest in a foetal position and rocked back and forth. I stared at the wall facing me; it began to edge towards me. I looked round and the room was getting smaller and smaller. Stifling a scream, I leapt under the covers.

I was awoken by Tommy’s maid, Ivana, a pretty blond Bosnian lady.

“Mr. di Santi,” she said kindly, prodding gently at my shoulder. “Mr. Vercetti wants to speak to you downstairs.”
“Ugh,” I said, groggily. I wiped my eyes and climbed out of bed, I must have somehow fallen asleep not long after diving beneath the duvet. “Thanks Ivana.”

I went through to my en suite and quickly showered and changed then headed downstairs. Tommy was sitting at the kitchen counter dressed in faded jeans and a turquoise Hawaiian-style shirt. It was as if I’d stepped back in time to the mid-80s, this guy was dressing as if Michael Jackson still played on the radio.

“Hey, Johnny,” he said, looking up from the newspaper. “You have a good sleep?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “So, what’s up? You wanted a word?”
“Yeah, do you want some orange juice?” he asked. I nodded and he poured out a glass of cool, fresh juice. “So, we’ll head out and do the rounds of some of my places in a few minutes. I’ll show you the ropes, gonna let you have a job at one of them.”
“Ah, thanks man,” I said, covering up the disappointment that I wasn’t getting free holiday.

Fifteen minutes later we were in his Sentinel XS, pulling out of the drive of the mansion. We cruised east and passed a wasteland on the left as we came of the bridge. Ahead of us was a smaller bridge which we crossed and headed down to the bottom of the island. Tommy parked the car up and we got out. I followed him and after a short walk, we ended up outside the strip club, ‘Pole Position’. The sign was a single chequered flag with the club name in silver letters. It looked a seedy place from the outside but, upon going inside, it got even worse.

We walked into the bar and I was immediately engulfed in the hazy mist of the dry ice machine. A platform stood in front of me with a woman sliding down the pole, she wore nothing but a thong, which was stuffed with $20 bills. The air was smoky and smelled of cigarettes, alcohol and the semen of sexually frustrated, middle-aged men. These men sat agog at the feat of the topless dancer, entranced by her fake tits. Tommy and I took a seat on the stools at the bar and ordered some soft drinks. The waitress, also scantily clad, handed over the drinks free of charge.

“So, you own this place?” I queried, having to shout over the blaring cheesy ‘80s hair metal.
“Yeah, for coming up twenty years now,” he yelled back. “This place was one of the first properties I bought after coming to Vice City.”
“Nice,” I said. “So, what was the job you want me to do?”
“I was thinking a tough guy like you could be a bouncer,” he said.
“Hmmm,” I thought for a while. “Yeah, maybe I’d do well.”
“You’ll just have to sort out over-excited customers and deal out some beatings to the ones who get aggressive.”

We drank up and he showed me around. Behind the bar was a small room where the dancers got changed and ready for their shows. A corridor led through to the curtain from where they’d appear to the club-goers. Further along the corridor was a door which opened into a small room with three doors coming off from it. One door led to the far corner of the club and the other two were private dance rooms, where one man sat wide-eyed in excitement as one of the dancers straddled him in a nurse outfit.

“So, you think you’re up to it?” Tommy asked me as we got back to the car.
“Yeah sure, it should be fun,” I said with a smile.
“Good, you start tonight.”


The next one, like this one, might be a while in the works.

  • DogOfHavoc

    Coldblooded Bruddah

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  • Joined: 04 May 2008


Posted 15 May 2008 - 03:43 AM Edited by DogOfHavoc, 15 May 2008 - 03:53 AM.

Chapter 6: For Coke and Country

Senator Moore sat in his small office pouring over his speech. He was in an office room inside the Las Venturas Police Department. The room belonged to the police chief but had been given to him for the duration of his speech preparation. A large desk dominated the tiny room. Near the door stood two hulking FIB bodyguards armed to the teeth with weaponry. At the desk Senator Moore scribbled on his speech and added new lines. The speech was a lengthy manuscript, vehemently condemning all forms of narcotics. It laid out strict protocols to deal with drug dealers, the death penalty being mentioned more than a few times. It also set out new rules for importation and strict police control of the docks. After finishing his last revisions, the senator got up and put the speech in his pocket. Senator Moore had spent the last decade putting stricter narcotic laws in place. On his way out he leaned over his desk and snorted a quick line of cocaine. Rubbing his nose he hustled out of the room. As far as his bodyguards were concerned, nothing illegal had gone on.

Dimitri wasn't nervous. Crouched in the PD parking lot, pistol and molotovs in hand, surrounded by hundreds of law enforcement, he didn't so much as break a sweat. The previous night had done much to strengthen his will. He watched as the large crowd rose to its feet and the senator stepped up onto the stage. Dimitri half listened as the senator began to drivel out his narcotics rhetoric. Though he was young, Dimitri could still tell when someone was talking out his *ss. This senator might as well have been singing the pledge of allegiance through his rear. The man said exactly the right things to get the crowd pumped over boring legislation they didn't even understand. He also managed to lace his speech with not so subtle references to his military service. According to him he had made innumerable sacrifices for the country during the Bosnian Conflict. Shutting the political buzz off in his head, Dimitri swiveled to look across the parking lot. One of the Russians gave him the signal to move into position. Dropping to his belly, Dimitri began to crawl across the lot as his nose was assaulted by the pungent smell of hot ashpalt. Dimitri reached the target position. It was the Police Commissioner’s red, white and blue Infernus. As Dimitri lit the Molotov he scoffed at the ostentatiousness of it. Then he let the fire bomb fly, and broke into a low run towards the corner of the PD. As he rounded the corner the car exploded in an inferno of over-priced patriotism.

Senator Moore was thrown to the ground by his bodyguards when the explosion went off. His face smashed into the woodplanks of the stage and blood began to gush out of his nose. Then bullets began to tear through his guards. Bodies were tossed about in a beautiful ballet of deaf. The Russians had killed the police snipers and were firing down from nearby buildings. The shooters were masked by red balaclavas. With his guards being torn to shreds, Moore panicked. He ran towards the Police Department door. He didn't notice that the Russians had already dispersed when the hundreds of police drew their weapons. However, the police were preoccupied with finding the gunman and no one paid attention to the wandering senator. He set off confused towards the Police Department door. As he reached the door, another explosion went off very close by. Moore was blasted to the ground and his eyes grew blurry in the smoke. As he clambered up from the ground and regained his footing, he came face-to-face with a Russian hitman. The man reached in his jacket and withdrew and insidiously large pistol. As he aimed it between Moore's eyes, his chest exploded in a flurry of crimson. Moore turned and saw the policeman responsible for the hitman’s death. Gun still raised and smoking, the officer was talking. However, the senator's shocked mind was unable to process the words, he may as well have been death. Befuddled, the senator turned and stumbled towards the parking lot. The officer ran to stop him, and took a stray police bullet in the spine.

Dimitri watched the circus of carnage unfold before his eyes. The scene came to a grating stop in his mind when he noticed the senator. The man was heading towards Dimitri. Dimitri knew the plan was to kill the senator inside the PD. There were two assassins crouched inside the building expecting to perform that very act. Judging the situation quickly, Dimitri hunched low and headed into the parking lot. Drawing his Colt he looked down his sights at the veteran senator. Ready to squeeze the trigger, Dimitri dove to the ground at the last second. Two officers had gained on Moore and were trying to escort him away. One of the officers grasped Moore's shoulder tightly and tried to steer him towards the PD.

Sergeant Moore was on the Bosnian battlefield. As he stumbled towards the NATO convoy he heard gunfire all around. He was about to reach the friendly vehicles, when an enemy soldier grabbed his shoulder. Moore turned and saw two hostiles speaking to him in a language he didn't understand. The sergeant's training kicked in. Punching one of the men in the throat he grabbed the gun out of the man's holster. Two quick shots to the head and the man was dead. Moore then turned to the second man. A look of horror was quickly erased from the man's face as Moore buried two bullets in his skull. Moore glanced around quickly and broke into a sprint for the convoy.

Dimitri was floored, or as floored as one can possibly be while laying prone in a parking lot. He had just watched the senator shoot two policeman dead in broad daylight. After killing them both, the senator broke into a sprint towards the lot. Dimitri felt an old familiar feeling when he saw Moore's face, fear. The muscles of his face looked strained and frantic, yet his eyes were vacant. This was not the face of a man in touch with reality. It seemed as if he thought he was somewhere else. Deciding to leave the mental analysis for later, Dimitri once again aimed for the senator. This time he was able to fire. The senator took two bullets in the chest and one in the leg. With the target down Dimitri turned around and sped off for his getaway vehicle. As he climbed into the Sentinel, the senator was bustled into an ambulance. As the door of the ambulance closed, a medic yelled through the door to the FIB: "He's gonna pull through, this senator is not gonna die today."

  • Shootin_spree

    Rioteer. also a Rampager.

  • Members
  • Joined: 29 Jan 2008


Posted 15 May 2008 - 08:10 AM

The Leone Family
Chiliad Hideout
Chapter 10 - Aftershock

It was freezing. The rain was still falling and the smoke from the explosions was still billowing through the sky. I kept held of my rifle as the street wass flooded in cars. There were too many. Triads began pouring out onto the street firing there weapons. Drivers and passengers of the cars were being shot so much that blood trickled down the street. The Mafioso kept pouring into the street, in veichles and foot. CJs end of the street was completely deserted apart from the bodies of cars smouldering away. I took a sharp breath and began firing, and without one bullet missing its target 5 Mafioso men had fallen to the ground, limp and dead. I pulled the scope from my eye and looked across at CJ. He wasnt shooting, but i distinctly saw him pulling the trigger.

"Its f*cking jammed!" CJ screamed at me.

I looked down, Triads were getting killed and CJ was now vulnerable. Then, three men looked up at CJ, and aimed at him with AKs.

"Sh*t, get the f*ck down CJ!!" I Screamed aiming at the men.

Sweat trickled down my cheek and I pulled the scope to my eye. The men began firing, CJ ducked, the bullets narrowly missing him. I squeezed the trigger, and all three men fell down on the ground, sprawling out. Then in the distance, sirens. All the mafioso got in cars and smashed it out of there. The Triads all sprinted away, and in the distance i could hear a helicopter.

"Lets go man!" CJ screamed across the street. "Ill meet you in Woozies room."

I ran as quick as i could back down to Woozies room and in a matter of seconds CJ rammed his way in.

"CJ, Connor, the explosions were huge, what happened?" Woozie asked us.
"Dude, Woozie, they rigged cars with bombs, they want you out of Fierro homie," CJ told him. "And, I dont think they mean in a helicopter or private jet, like maybe a casket."
"Hmmm, Connor, you did good, both you boys, get out of here before the fuzz shows," Woozie told us, getting up to go downstairs. "And Connor, Ill be in touch."

CJ and I legged it down to the cars left outside and CJ floored it out of China Town. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by cops.

"F*ck, F*ck, F*ck," CJ said, swerving through cop cars. "We gotta get the f*ck outta here!"

Then, from outside of the car. A voice rang throughout the air.

"Get out of the car and put your hands up,"
"Like f*ck we will!" CJ creamed out of his window.

He sped along some steep slopes and we must have left the ground. Minutes later we had lost sight of the cop cars but the chopper was on our tails.

"That f*cking chopper," CJ whispered to himself. "We gotta lose it,"

He sped along near construction side and past the airport. He sped up through a small tunnel and then turned into a road going through the mountain. He sped the car all the way through to a exit into what looked like Los Santos.

"Homie, that was f*cking close," He said, sighing with relief.
"Your telling me man," I said. "Dude, can you drive me back to my hideout?"
"Fo' Sho' dogg," He said, turning left.

I hadnt seen action like that for awhile, what a day, first I meet up with some of my mortal enemies. Then i fight for them and then, then i almost get killed by some cops. F*ck that. CJ got me back and it was night.

"Look, thanks man," I told him.
"Dont mention it man, call me if you need any help man," He said, as i hopped out of the car.
"See ya man," I said and shut the door.

He drove off and i walked into the hut, Mike and Luigi were sitting there watching TV.

"Where did you get that?" I asked them.
"Found it in a closet ," Luigi said bluntly.

They were watching the news. And, it was about a huge gang war in China Town.

"Sh*t man," Mike said, turning the volume up. "Looks huge,"
"And it was believed to be between Italians and The chinese gang, The Triads," The news presenter on the TV said.
"F*ckers," Luigi muttered. "Ill kill those Triads."
"Dude, they werent Italians from Liberty," I blurted out, i had to stop doing this.
"Oh yeah? How do you know?" Luigi asked me, eyeing me angrily.
"umm, i dont," I said nervously.
"You asshole, you were there, thats what you and CJ did today," MIke blurted out instantly.
"CJ, that black fella, the f*ck is goin on connor?" Luigi asked me, standing up.
"Okay, Okay......." I said, telling them everything.

They listened and then when it was over they seemed okay with it. But, what were other Italians doing attacking the Triads. Ill bet its the Sindaccos or some other f*ckers. Ill soon find out.

  • SantiagoDomingo


  • Members
  • Joined: 08 Feb 2008


Posted 15 May 2008 - 11:37 PM Edited by SantiagoDomingo, 16 May 2008 - 12:01 AM.

EDIT: On the first page in your drug section . . . it says a kilo is 998 grams . . . I direct you towards my signature . . .

The Cubans . . . The Journey
Day Three - Fishing

The sun was beating down relentlessly for the past two days. The metal car-boat, rising and falling gently with the waves, was hot to the touch. The four men sat in silence, sweat dripping from their brows. The only solace from the heat was the occasional ocean misting as a wave crashed against their vessel. Even the fish in the sea were trying to escape the punishing sun; they swam underneath the ship to stay in its shadow. As the men peered out the windows they couldn’t help but feel engulfed by the sea. Water surrounded them in every direction; their only sense of direction came from the rising and the setting of the sun.

“Jesu Cristo, it’s so f*cking hot in here,” complained Holmes as he wiped the sweat from his face. “I’m going to cool off in the water for a minute,” he said while removing his shirt. He clumsily dragged himself through the window and splashed into the water. He emerged on the other side of the raft releasing a sigh of relief. He ran his hands over his bald head; his eyes were red from the salt water. “This feels amazing, you guys should jump in and check out the fish following us,” Holmes eagerly suggested.

Without a single word the rest of the men stripped down to their under garments and slid into the water. Señor submerged himself under water to investigate the plethora of fish beneath them. When he emerged from the water he asked, in his thick Cuban accent, “Wee’ll someone geeve me thee spear?”

“Here, take it,” Antonio said as he placed the spear into his hands. Señor inspected the spear for a few moments then took a deep breath and dived down under the boat.

In the warm blue water thousands of baitfish swam, hording into the shadows of the boat. It was a swirling cloud of blues, yellows, reds, and greens. These fish attracted some larger fish, the ones that Señor hunted, the largest being about two and a half feet long. He waited as the large fish sliced through the cloud of baitfish, picking them off one at a time. When the fish swam close enough he lunged his spear and caught the large fish right in its gills. A small cloud of blood began seeping from the wounds. The surface of the water was broken as a skewered fish came bursting out of the water.

“Holy sh*t!” exclaimed Antonio surprised by the fish splashing up right in front of him.

“Haha! Eh Tony, scared of a feesh?” Señor joked, waving the fish around in front of his face. Tony grabbed the fish after Señor finally smacked him in the face with it.

Chico and Holmes both jumped back into the boat. “That sh*t is gonna attract a shark or an octopus or somethin,” Chico warned sternly.

A dorsal fin emerged from the water; it was heading in the direction of the two men in the water. Screaming they both scurried to get back in the boat. As the fin got closer to the boat the men noticed that it wasn’t a shark but a dolphin. The dolphin jumped from the water doing a front flip and then swam away. The overall morale of the men was improved until moments later a shark arrived and thrashed about in the water, feasting on the baitfish.

“Ahhh, oh f*ck! Oh f*ck! Let’s get out of here!” screamed Antonio as he grabbed an oar. Señor grabbed the other oar and they began to paddle franticly.

"What a way to end the break" , Señor thought to himself. They continued to paddle towards their destination while he told them stories of the things he learned when he served in the Bay of Pigs.

"If you run out of water, the eyes of a fish contain fresh water," he explained to the other men. He continued on about the minerals and the vitamins in the flesh and other organs. The other men sat and listened as they drifted further towards Vice City.

  • SantiagoDomingo


  • Members
  • Joined: 08 Feb 2008


Posted 16 May 2008 - 05:15 PM Edited by SantiagoDomingo, 16 May 2008 - 05:17 PM.

Don't know how you all feel about double posting, but it has been a day and I've got another story . . . so here goes . . .

The Cubans . . . The Journey
Day Three - The Storm

The men slept peacefully as night fell. Tomorrow they would all be in Vice City. The ocean was unusually calm; the boat hardly rose or fell at all. They floated gently towards the coast of America. The night was dark save for a few stars still visible in the sky. Slowly even the remaining stars began to disappear as thick dark clouds began to roll in. Soon it was pitch black, nothing could be seen, not even a hand in front of a face.

The boat began to rock more forcefully in the water as the wind picked up, increasing the size of the swells. The dark storm clouds were swollen and saturated with water. A single droplet began to form and dropped from the cloud. The silence of the night was broken as a single drop of water descended through the sky and landed with a slight thud on the roof of the boat. Suddenly the rain turned into a torrential downpour. The sound of the water smashing into the sea and onto the boat awoke the men.

The boat was being lifted and dropped into the water as the waves reached eight feet in height. Inside the men were being tossed around like rag dolls. They took hold of anything they could and held on for dear life. The waves were getting bigger. Each time the boat fell from the top of a wave more water would rush in through the windows. Soon the men were knee deep in water.

A large twelve-foot wave was headed towards the boat. In the darkness of the night the men were unable to see the wave approaching. As the prow of the boat collided with the wave the boat started to lean backwards. As it reached the crest of the wave the boat was near vertical, the men feared it would flip and trap them inside. The boat sank slightly in the water but the fifty-five gallon drums catapulted it out of the water and over the crest of the wave. The boat plunged back down into the water; the sea began to flood in through the windows again.

The darkness was interrupted as a bright; splintering bolt of lightning erupted in the sky. The following thunderous boom was deafening. The lightning was lighting up the night with flashes going off a few times a minute. The thunder and lightning coupled with the large waves had the men fearing for their lives.

The storm continued on for what seemed like an eternity. The boat was nearly full of water and the fifty-five gallon drums were coming loose from the sides. The battering of the waves was taking its toll on the boat. The back end was riding low in the water.

“EVERYONE OUT OF THEE BOAT!” Senor screamed as another flash of lightning revealed a sixteen-foot wave. The men all hurriedly exited the vehicle and clasped to the barrels on the side. As the car began to be swallowed by the wave the men all let go and tried not to drown. The car was flipped onto its top, the wave crashing down upon it. All of their money and supplies were lost. The barrels were torn from the car; the men clung to the barrels desperately trying to stay above water. The rain was stinging their skin. For hours the men floated with the barrels, riding the waves and praying that they could survive this storm.

After the storm passed the men kicked their barrels through the water and used some of the rope to make a small raft.

“We could be anywhere now, we have no supplies, no food, we are going to die out here,” Holmes reasoned exasperated.

The rest of the men just lay on the makeshift raft quietly and exhausted. They just floated wherever the current took them, thankful to be alive.

As the sun rose Chico saw land.

“LAND! We are almost there!” Chico exclaimed, pointing out that they were only a few hundred feet from shore.

“Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus!” Antonio muttered under his breath.

“Everyone back in thee water, let’s paddle our way to shore and see where we have arrived,” Senor commanded.

The men slid their legs into the water and began to kick. Before they knew it they were fifty feet from shore. By this point the people hanging out at Washington Beach took notice of the group of people on the raft. The men continued like nothing happened. When they were about twenty feet the men abandoned their raft and swam to shore.

“Alright, lets find a hotel for the night. We have a couple hundred dollars that I managed to save,” Senor suggested wisely. The men walked across the street and got a room at the Ocean View Hotel.

Wanted Assailant
  • Wanted Assailant


  • Members
  • Joined: 29 Dec 2007


Posted 16 May 2008 - 10:51 PM Edited by Wanted Assailant, 16 May 2008 - 11:26 PM.

NOTE: It’s pretty short but I just wanted to get warmed up for my two big stories next up

Sindacco Books of Revelation: Chapter VIII: 616 3rd Century: Drench In Blood

Pale Death with impartial tread beats at the poor man’s cottage door and at the palace of kings.
- Horace (65 BC - 8 BC)

No word came from the Sindaccos until after a few weeks past. During those weeks the ‘Capo Bastone’ liked the work I finished for him last week and had more jobs for me in store. Paulie seemed to be afar from his father’s work; or maybe it’s the fact that he had his own problems and sided on his own temporarily. I had already met up with Paulie much earlier, who paged me up on to talk about a new contract..

I walked into Paulie’s office with the same expression I had on my face, the same pose and figure, and the same personality I had always had when I was apart of this profession. I sat down on the sturdy chair Paulie greeted me to. His office was very similar to his father’s, except it was much more confined and darkened with the lack of sunshine and upgrades. There were just enough of family members to protect this underboss. Yet despite it’s disadvantages in appearance, the stench that had flown through the room smelt like the opening package of a new item; freshly baked. Paulie got straight to business with no end for a breath in sight. He repeatedly fixed the lapels on his dark tuxedo, before beginning I gave attention and listened to his strongly built speech, deciding before accepting the contract.

“Terrible!”, Paulie roared, wildly but formally getting out of his chair.

“ That guy Cruz you killed a few weeks ago brought up some commotion on the streets.
You see, post humous Manny has a brother named Mike who was recently locked up in prison before being released on parole for “good behavior,” the underboss had spoken in a solemn tone.
He strolled around the confined room, meeting back at his chair before he had sat again.

“The problem here, is that Mike knows about his brother’s death and have been acting Sherlock Homles around town to find out who killed him. Of course he’s also a Diablo, but our fellow family have been seeing him around off Diablo turf.”

“ We’d take him out ourselves but we don’t want a war against the Diablos... Just yet”,
He constructed the words blandly, only giving emphasis on the last two words.

“ Just like how you took out his brother I’m gonna want you to take this guy out as well. Just make sure you don’t get too close to him. You’re gonna have to end him from far away as he’s gonna be tramping all around Portland. If you want the money, just make sure YOU kill him instead of some other chump,” He conveys the information whilst leaning on his chair and still continuously fixing his lapels along with his suit.

“He’s looking for his brother’s killer but he’s still a Diablo taking orders from his boss. Diablos are mostly known for the XXXMags shop around the Red Light District so Mike will most likely be there while multitasking with finding his brother’s white lady. He’s fresh out of jail so expect a bad beard.”

I ceased from the chair in a upwards direction and proceeded to leave out of the room. Paulie had stopped me in my tracks in the tiny room and yelled out and abrupt me in my way outside the door.

“Wait! You’re not gonna go out like that are you? Seriously, wearing a dark trench coat?”, Paulie exclaimed with energy.

I gave a confused face under my stern expression and it noted as a question. ‘What the hell is wrong with my coat?’

“I mean, some chump is going around town looking for his brother’s killer and you’re going around in some suspicious trench coat?!”, leaving his voice in a moderate tone.

“EVERYONE expects some guy in a suit just ready to pull a bullet in ‘em. If you wore some casual clothes you’d fit with the dim-witted crowd and you’ll be in and out silent as a fox. I almost got stabbed several times because I was expecting some nut in a SUIT to take me out instead of some greasy-dressed ex-con ”, Paulie explained in seemed sequences.

“Really?”, as my only thought-out reply which came out bland and obvious.

“No..”, Paulie replied with such strong monotone that is unchanging in pitch.

He was of course joking about the whole stabbing incident and only used it as a reference. I went on my way and pondered about the kicking decision Paulie expressed.
Seemed right.

The seedy, destructive air clouts the erupting and hazy clouds in the detailed atmosphere. Rain starts to pour down on the coat of Portland Island. The sky above roars angrily upon the innocent civilians, the control drummed sound even putting the most fierce lion to heel. The earth-shattering vibrations the holy upper-atmosphere descends upon it’s people in Portland, crowds a fearsome unpleasant appearance. Many people who have the faces of an innocent walk among the surfaces the beast above had given to them as a gift. Happy faces, sad faces, grumpy faces, spoiled faces, and many more to be broken and to unshed the true identity of their cold heart. Except, there’s a soul beneath the sky that doesn’t shield his true personality. This figure stands among on the low temperature cold concrete, which is repeatedly coated with red blood, shedding and then soaked with staleness and rain. It appears to the blind eye that the blood was washed off, but it will forever embed on the streets of one of the worst landmarks in America...

I was beside the Argentino from the Sindaccos, behind my own apartment in the background. I had appeared in the dropping rain with clothes my characteristic qualities wouldn’t match with. I wore a top, a short sleeved fabric shirt, with the shaded color of pitch black. On top of the fabric shirt, known as the upper-garment, is a dark blazer. The blazer, open button, has a sharp edge towards the descent direction which is to the waist. Brown suspenders connect to a dark-colored cargo pants, made with many types of pockets to be used from. Lastly, I had worn a high shade of brown Lenneth Doles shoes, which the clothes now can be very unfitting. It never held me as suspicious or casual at all and held me in the middle. I stare down to my legs before going towards the Sindacco Argentino that I’ve been using a lot lately. You’d think someone would be smart enough to collect up the evidence and quickly prosecute me in-between. I had hidden a padded case in the trunk of the vehicle as I had used it later.

I drove onto the surface, driving carefully and cautiously on the non-sleet but smooth and wet surface and where dark accidents can happen at the happiest and cheerful times. I had no one to talk, and of course being a contract killer you’ll rarely make friends around here. The only living presence that had spoken to me was the thrashing tone of the insane and unbalanced thunderstorm, and greeted me for my recognition for revealing my true face at all times. I didn’t listen to much music through the radio stations, except maybe a few hearings of classical music. It soothed and relaxed me greatly, which would get me nice enough for the kill. The wipers adjusted in the car swiped the rain off of the car window, lessening the invisibility of the road.

I already knew Portland by heart, and drifted off to the Red Light District, and stopped only at red lights and civilians walking. I slowly crawled around the streets of the Red Light District, pelting rain and motors making most of the noise. I decided to stop looking around and made my way into a alleyway. It was a pretty moderate sized alley that could fit about two cars. It was many foots if you were to go the entrance of Vittore’s Revue Bar. The alley was completely dark. The walls were scathed with marks and writings, while stale sludge was still painted on the bricks. Fire escape routes appeared near the half dead buildings, old and crusted. There was a green age-ridden door, beneath were stairs that had a different height each step. The object that was on my mind were a flight of stairs leading to a early roof. The stairs were old, disgustingly brown; crusted with seemed oil gone to waste, which would creak every time you’d take a careful step. I had let the motor stop, and the headlights on the trademark mafia car flashed out. I climbed out of the car and got to the back trunk, moving at low speed taking out the padded case I had secured safely.

I slammed the truck down and walked to the wide dry-scrapped flight of stairs, cautiously walking up each stoop. Condensed moisture of the atmosphere made everything beneath wet and slippery, but was perfect if you were in my condition. I had already made my way to the apartment, my Doles shoes clanking against the hard surface below me. I went to a good vantage point, predicting a possible location the target would pop in. My red pulsing eyes peered around the great extent of fog around the Red Light District, only seeing objects, people and buildings that only my cornea could get a glimpse of. ‘Vitorre’s Revue Bar’ was only the building in front of me bright lights, advertising boards hanging along paid buildings; and people with umbrellas strolling around the streets. I had waited for a long extent of time before the target had came. He would of stuck out like bloody thumb being a Diablo with a scruffy beard, especially if he walked out of the ‘XXXMagz’ shop.

During the wait I quickly grabbed the padded case and opened it with slow timing graze. I held out the object that was beautifully placed in the designed case. I held it up to the air to my shoulders and connected a few parts that would be assembled after a few seconds. The object was crisp, designed with such high advantages...

It was a Sniper Rifle, newly bought a few weeks ago. Diligence pays off greatly, and this gift shows astounding proof. I held up the Sniper Rifle to my shoulder length and had squat down to my knees. I had inserted the rifle between the gates that were places on top of the build. I of course didn’t put it to far as it would cause national attention. I had waited before moments later along the east sidewalk was a man who came into appearance that had quickly struck my eye. A snoopy appeared man walked distinctly around the Revue Bar and in my view. He worn long blue pants, consisting of white sneakers beneath that were riddled with molded mud. He had worn a dark blue jacket just like the one Manny worn when he dropped dead. He also wore a red bandana right above his eyebrows, his face consisting of a cold expression; only the scruffy dark beard made him more distinct. He looked fairly crestfallen, his face detailed with deep disappointment and sadness that his face expressed along with his stubby walking in a non-poseur way. Then it had hit me. This was Mike.

The man slowly with pace walked around the busy nd crowded area, talking to strangers as he bumped into them, assumed questions that usually lasted long. From my stance, the words were incoherent to understand as the moisture from the deep clouds silenced his conversations. I closed an eye. I clipped the zooming lens right after. A tiny green lens appeared in my left cornea. The man stalled enough for me to get a hit. I had to be quick, he’d leave here any minute and I would miss a perfect shot to get this ex-con. At this point in my profession, I always wondered how my job was so easy for me that they would pop in front of me; and just apparently holding a sign saying “kill me” just to get it over with..

But then I noticed I was born into this world as a contract killer, holding a pistol at the age of 3. I never resented the person who made me this way, as I would of never been great at it’s acquirements. So many years being trained that I noticed that I WAS this good. I aimed.

I pulled the trigger, making sure the backlash was silent to all ears. The lens shook violently after the steel trigger was pulled and never made a clear view after the incident. At high speed a bullet plunged into the collarbone of the man known as Mike. He tightly grasped his collar with all his might, while a tough piece of burning flesh peeled off skin onto the floor. Blood sprayed between the pair of bones that joined the breastbone and shoulder blades together.

The man wailed widely, pedestrians fleeing the scene in confusion and fear. Whenever you fall in Liberty City, nobody would dare to try and catch you. Mike squirmed wildly on the pavement, made a short, loud, and piercing that expressed extreme emotion and pain. To my ears, the long scream made to a very rapid swift screech, as if with such a sound. I sat there with the Rifle, although in a morbid expression, I appeared there in a dumbfounded position.

Quickly with action, I had made the rifle contact with the open padded case, slipping in perfectly. I packed up the case and in a slow repeated pace, I walked over the antique stairs, going down them as I go. I made it to my car, and carefully put the Sniper Rifle case into the trunk. I silently closed the back trunk, hoping of not causing a related ruckus.

I climbed into the car, slowly started up the Argentino’s engine, and went on my way. The forever darkness overwhelmed the terrifying scene..

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Posted 17 May 2008 - 12:01 AM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 17 May 2008 - 12:35 AM.

It's me, radicell

mark-2007: $38. +$100 for 20th story. Pick any vehicle under $500 for your gang to get for free.
DogOfHavoc: $41. Good story, but one question: How did Senator suddenly become Sergeant?
Shootin_spree: $36.
santiagoDomingo: $35, $40. I like the way you brought the Cubans to Vice City.
Wanted Assailant: $46.

EDIT by mark-2007: Awh, suh-weet! I'mma get myself a Huntley ($450) y'all! Yeehaw!

Also added the Yardies as a new gang! Tell your mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers and so on.

Other suggestions welcome about gang additions - just as long as you they're from GTA III canon (III, VC, SA, LCS, VCS) and you have suggestions for properties. PM me (mark-2007) first and I'll go from there.

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Posted 17 May 2008 - 05:42 AM


Chapter 1:

7:33 a.m.
Monday 1st April 1993
Garcia, San Fierro

"Ah, crap!"

I shouted in horror as I spilled maple syrup onto my clean pants. I picked up some tissues and wiped it off, only to look up and see a large, blad man stare at me. His eyes were hiden behind a pair of Oakley sunglasses.

"Um...hello?" I asked him, wondering what he was doing.

"Here," he muttered, as he gave me a small, card-like piece of paper. The only thing written on it was:

New job oppurtunity

Call 555 8909

I looked at the man in confusion, but he started to walk away. At first, I felt like ripping it up and leaving it in the plate, however, what if the job is better than this every week?

I ignited the ignition of the Stallion. The rusty engine rumbled slowly, and gave a small clink when I put the shift into reverse. I then shifted it forward, into first gear, and set off for the Pleasure Domes; I decided to finish my day earlier.

8:03 a.m.
Monday 1st April 1993
Battery Point, San Fierro

I signed my name in as I walked through the large, mahogany front door of the club. They recognised me on arrival, with my rat's tail and mohawk hairstyle, so it was no problem getting inside. Not only that, but I was probably the only member in the gang of direct Spanish descent. Most Mexican people are a mixture of Amerindians and Spanish descent, but I know for a fact that my ancestry is Spanish; my grandparents were immigrants rom Barcelona and Madrid, respectively. I've been made fun of many times because of my heritage.

The seedy atmosphere of the club lighted up my senses automatically. The bottom two floors is the strip club, and the top floor is the brothel. I could choose to guard wherever I want, and usually I picked the brothel.

As I passed the various small enclaves of men wanking off under the noses of their prey, I started to further think about that oppurtunity. However, the stair traffic was light, so I managed to get up to the brothel quite quickly.

"Hey, man, good to see you arriving early, when hardly anyone is around," said Marko, the receptionist of the brothel. He basically asked you which hooker you wanted, and gave you the keys to the room. Marko himself was not a member of the Rifa, and his first cousin was a member of the Serbian Mafia. "You want anyone to start off? It's free, plus it'll count to the 3 hours."

"A'ight, I might as well."

"Who you want?"

"Give me Helena." Helena had slightly long black hair tied in a pony-tail, wore a red bra, black leather 'short shorts' and long, high heel, black leather boots. She was a bit on the chubby side, but what the hell; it's always good to try someone different. Marko gave me the tree, and we walked off to room 15.


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Posted 17 May 2008 - 07:54 AM

radicell here

Stefan.: $34. Good plot, but the vocabulary sounds a bit off to me.
I ignited the ignition of the Stallion.

Bikers and Sharks have been added as new gangs.
Again, other suggestions welcome about gang additions - just as long as you they're from GTA III canon (III, VC, SA, LCS, VCS) and you have suggestions for properties. PM either radicell or mark-2007 and we'll get it done.

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Posted 17 May 2008 - 06:15 PM

I would like to buy an eighth of Marijuana and a switch blade.

By the way, in your guns section . . . a Glock 10? A Glock 10 doesn't exist. I assume you mean a Glock 20 as it shoots a 10mm round, or the Glock 29 which is a compact version of the Glock 20 that also shoots a 10mm round. The first Glock ever invented is the Glock 17, named that way as it was Glock's seventeenth patent. Each one after that increased in number.

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Posted 17 May 2008 - 07:12 PM

QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ May 17 2008, 07:54)
radicell here

Stefan.: $34. Good plot, but the vocabulary sounds a bit off to me.
I ignited the ignition of the Stallion.

Bikers and Sharks have been added as new gangs.
Again, other suggestions welcome about gang additions - just as long as you they're from GTA III canon (III, VC, SA, LCS, VCS) and you have suggestions for properties. PM either radicell or mark-2007 and we'll get it done.

Yardies should be added, they were never wiped out.

  • radicell

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Posted 18 May 2008 - 01:03 AM

QUOTE (Flesh-n-Bone @ May 18 2008, 03:12)
QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ May 17 2008, 07:54)
radicell here

Stefan.: $34. Good plot, but the vocabulary sounds a bit off to me.
I ignited the ignition of the Stallion.

Bikers and Sharks have been added as new gangs.
Again, other suggestions welcome about gang additions - just as long as you they're from GTA III canon (III, VC, SA, LCS, VCS) and you have suggestions for properties. PM either radicell or mark-2007 and we'll get it done.

Yardies should be added, they were never wiped out.

It has already been added, read the BUYG Admin's post before mine.

  • DogOfHavoc

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Posted 18 May 2008 - 03:13 AM

QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ May 17 2008, 00:01)
It's me, radicell

mark-2007: $38. +$100 for 20th story. Pick any vehicle under $500 for your gang to get for free.
DogOfHavoc: $41. Good story, but one question: How did Senator suddenly become Sergeant?
Shootin_spree: $36.
santiagoDomingo: $35, $40. I like the way you brought the Cubans to Vice City.
Wanted Assailant: $46.

EDIT by mark-2007: Awh, suh-weet! I'mma get myself a Huntley ($450) y'all! Yeehaw!

Also added the Yardies as a new gang! Tell your mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers and so on.

Other suggestions welcome about gang additions - just as long as you they're from GTA III canon (III, VC, SA, LCS, VCS) and you have suggestions for properties. PM me (mark-2007) first and I'll go from there.

The idea is that the trauma sends the senator into shock. He begins to think he is back in his days as a soldier, and sees what's unfolding around him as such. The two hostiles he thinks he kills are actually police. I plan to exxpand on it in the next story.

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Posted 18 May 2008 - 11:43 AM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 18 May 2008 - 12:33 PM.

SantiagoDomingo: You can buy either 3.5 grams or an ounce of marijuana. Not an eighth.

Switchblade purchased.

EDIT: Updated the property list with some changes to better reflect the canon and avoid conflicting properties.
Russian Mafia: Added The Atrium.
Grove Street Families: Changed Four Dragons Casino to Wang Cars.
Triads: Changed Link View Heights to Chartered Libertine Lines.

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Posted 18 May 2008 - 03:26 PM

3.5 grams = 1/8 of an ounce, hence 'eighth'.

  • johnson.


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Posted 19 May 2008 - 12:08 AM

Hey folks, well alot of you have been wondering how the Drug system works. This evening I got around to adding a piece to the drug system to make it much easier to understand. Each week the prices of drugs will change. The price of drugs is shown under Cost. The price you sell the drugs is under... Whole Sale.
Hopefully this will clear up alot of confusion and make things easier to understand. I will continue to add drugs to this list within the following week.

Units of Drugs
Amount of Product
Whole Sale
3.5 grams
Ounce (28 grams)
Pound (16 ounces or 448 grams)
Kilo (2.2 pounds or 998 grams)
1 gram
Teener (1.5 grams)
Ball (3.5 grams)
Ounce (28 grams)
Pound (16 ounces or 448 grams)
Kilo (2.2 pounds or 998 grams)
1 pill
100 pills
1,000 pills
10,000 pills(Club Owner's DREAM)

  • DogOfHavoc

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 02:33 AM

So wholesale is BUYG cash right? Like this is a way to make money in addition to writing stories. I'm asking because I remember reading that the drug money could not be redeemed.

  • johnson.


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Posted 19 May 2008 - 02:50 AM Edited by johnson., 19 May 2008 - 06:28 AM.

Exactly, everytime you purchase and sell a unit of drugs. You must write a story, one for buying it, one for selling it.
I'v changed the rules so that you may also purchase things with the money you've earned from selling drugs.
Here is an example... through this story i am going to buy 2 grams of cocaine.
The Pick Up
Vercetti Crime Ring

It was a rainy evening in Vice City, we had these showers for a week now and it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon. I sat in back of the yellow Taxi cab that was on rout to its destination. The radio played a Jamaican reggae beat in the background. We zoomed on passed a yellow sports car that was being pulled over by the cops. The atmosphere inside the car felt just as wet as it was outside.
“Right up there” I pointed out to the driver, the Taxi cab pulled up to the curb. I handed the driver some cash and climbed out into the rain. I walked over to a small payphone that sat under a covering from service station in Ocean Beach. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a handful of change, I pushed a quarter into the payphone and dialed the seven digit phone number written on my wrist

“Hello?” A voice awnsered
“Yea… A friend gave me this number, told me if I ever needed some yayo I should call this number” I replied, putting the change back in my pocket and reaching for my pack of cigarettes.
“Yea, yea… where are you?” The voice replied.
“Gas Station in Ocean Beach, across the street from the mall” I explained, lighting the cigarette that was at my lips. Taking a haul and slowly exhaling.
“Someone will be there in about ten minutes” The voice said, the phone line went dead right after.

I stood under the covering, rain still came down creating huge puddles in the street. I looked down at my watch, ‘8:47’ it only took fifteen minutes before a white Sentinel had pulled into the gas station. The car stopped in a parking space, the engine wasn’t turned off nor did anyone exit the car. I walked up to the drivers seat, the man in side motioned me to get into the passengers seat. When I finally got into the car, the driver sat there in total silence cigarette hanging from his lips big sunglasses in his face he looked over at me and asked.

“How much?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a $100 dollar bill
“I’ll do ya two grams for that” He continued, I nodded in approval then handed him the bill. He opened a small compartment beside him, an assortment of drugs sat inside. He pulled out to small bags of cocaine and tossed them to me. I put them in my pocket and opened the car door.
“Don’t get that sh*t wet, call me up if you need a rebatch” He said, I climbed out of the car. He backed out of the parking space turned to drive away, when two police cruisers stopped infront of his car. The domes of the police cruisers lit up the dark rainy sky. I turned and started walking when a police officer grabbed onto my arm, I pushed his arm away from me and punched him in the face. He slumped to the ground and I began running. Another officer took pursuit right on my heels.

“STOP OR I’ll OPEN FIRE!” He shouted, I dashed into a near by alley way. Wich was no use, A large chainlink fence blocked off the end. I ran towards the fence, jumping up and pulling myself over the top. Landing on my feet hitting the other side. I continued to run through the back of an apartment complex. My heart pounded through my chest, eventually the footsteps of the police officer behind me faded. And I slowed down, leaning over clutching my knees trying to catch my breath.

I checked my surroundings, I must have ran into a parking complex. It still rained outside, I glanced down at my wrist '9:32'. I walked over to the ledge of the parking complex, reaching into my pocket and grabbing my pack of smokes. After lighting up one of the cigarettes, I turned and looked at the car that was parked beside me. A Sentinel XS, I looked down at the doors then looked up and around the complex. It was erie the silence that filled the air. I grabbed the door handle and pulled, the door opened and I ducked into the car. I pulled down on a small panel under the steering wheel, pulling two wires apart then reversed the wires. A small spark lit up and the engine roared to life. I grabbed onto the shifter and threw the car into gear. I hit the gas and the Sentinal ripped out of the parking space. I raced through the parking complex before finally finding an exit. I began heading north, to my apartment on the upper north east side of the Downtown district.

As I drove through Vice City, I looked through the car. On passenger seat was a pair of black shorts, and a blue polo. Under the clothes was a black cellphone, I flipped it open and dialed a phone number.

“Hello?” Someone awnsered.
“Tony, it’s JR” I said, sitting back in the drivers seat and continued to cruise down the road.
“JR, I’v been looking for you… some sh*ts about to go down. Come pick me up at my cribs in 15 mins. I’ll explain everything later.” Tony explained, Me and Tony grew up toghther back in Liberty City when we were younger. He moved down here before I did. He had helped me learn my way around the city.
“Alright, I’ll call you when I’m out front” I replied
“Aight peace” he finished, I hung up the phone and dropped it into my lap. I spun the wheel around and began driving east to Tony’s house in Vice Point.

I pulled the car up to the curb and put it in park. The radio was playing rap beat that silently thumped in the background. I sat back in the drivers seat, waiting for Tony to get his ass in the car. Tony finally opened the passenger side door and got into the car.
“Nice car!” He exclaimed
“Thanks, found it less than and hour ago” I said
“Quick, we gotta get too party up in Little Haiti. My boy is having trouble with some Haitian gangbangers.” He ordered, doing up his seatbelt. I sat up, put the car in gear and began driving down the road. Tony puffed on a large cigar, he turned the volume up on the radio. I swerved through traffic trying to get to Little Haiti as quick as the Sentinel XS could. I turned right on a street and continued down the road wich brought me past the golf course onto a bridge. The rain started to slowly stop, the windshield whippers continued to clear the water of the front window. The large streetlights gave off a orangish glow on the cement bridge.

We reached Little Haiti, the party was in one of the slum houses by the Print Works. Music boomed in the night sky, cars parked all over the street. A small group had gathered around in the street, a group of Haitians had confronted two white males.
"Thats them!" Tony shouted beside me, he quickly jumped out of the vehicale with a Baseball Bat in hand. The Haitians began attacking Tony's cousins. I had jumped out of the car and began following Tony, when we reached the Haitians Tony began swinging at the group hitting one in the back of the skull making a disgusting cracking sound. I rapped my arms around one of the Haitians heads, and kneed him in the face. Dropped him on the floor and continued to fight off the small group of attackers. Tony handed me the baseball bat and I swung the bat with all my strength connecting with a face.
"Lets get back to the car!" I yelled, the two cousins made a run for the Sentinel. Me and Tony following close behind.

I could hear police sirens in the background, we reached the car. I jumped into the driver seat, threw the car into gear and peeled away from the party.
"We'll go to my place" Tony said, I looked into the rearview mirror. His cousins looked pretty beat up.
"You two alright?" I asked,
"Yeah, fine... just a little bruised up" One of them explained.
"What the f*ck happened back there" I asked, offering him a cigarette .
"The piece of sh*t tried to jack my sh*t, so I started swinging. Mike here backed me up when another guy tried to jump in" He said, putting the cigarette to his lips and taking a drag from it. There was silence for the rest of the car ride, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing.

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 10:05 AM

can i join the bikers at moist palms hotel please

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 12:44 PM

Hello all,


Vercetti Gang
Story Count: 4
$0 + $41 = $41


Added at Moist Palms Hotel for the Bikers
Get writing colgate.gif


Good to see the drugs sorted, hope everyone is clear about them now.

Keep the writing coming icon14.gif

rated and updated by mark-2007

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 12:53 PM


Flying on my motorcycle, I watch the ground beneath me dry. To my leftright, the Greasy Chopper bar zooms past, a sign to slow down and hit the brakes. The sun shone brightly, but metaphorically it was shining all the time. As I stopped the bike in front of the Moist Palms Hotel, my eyes casted on my group of buddies, always there, always the few of us, and my mind wandered.

Bikers weren’t the most common gang anywhere in America, and being the only Caucasian gang in the whole of Vice City, life certainly hadn’t been good. Two years ago, our turf spanned most of Vice City, and Big Mitch was even talking about expanding up north. But then this Vance guy comes along, and he takes the city for himself – reducing our turf down to the small area of southern Downtown. But despite being constantly at war with the Haitians and the Sharks, we made it through, struggling, holding on for survival. Our only advantage was our location, Downtown, the financial centre of Vice City. Many businesses had buildings here, and all it took were a few knocks to the executive’s stomach, sometimes a kill or two, to get them to pay protection. All in all, life pretty much sucked for quite a while, but all that changed one day.

I remember quite clearly the day when an Italian dude walked into the Greasy Chopper in his beach shirt, looking for Big Mitch. He asked us to do protection for a local concert. Big Mitch set him up in a bike race, to see what kind of guy he was. I was one of the contestants. We raced all over Downtown, and surprisingly, the guy beat us by a lot. The guy’s name was Vercetti, and soon, his gang, properly named as Vercetti Gang, became allied with us. And two months later, the Vercetti Gang had taken over the city, much like the Vance guy had two years ago. And with the strong alliance came goods and money. Better weapons, more bikes. And the best part is, that Vercetti guy killed Vance’s brother. Sure as hell deserved it.

So now, here I am, walking up to my group of friends in front of the Moist Palms. The hotel is one of our biggest protection payers, so we stand here day and night to make sure they’re not up to something.

One of the Bikers turned around at the sound of me pulling up. “Zepp! How you doin’?”
Zeppelin was my real name, but I preferred Zepp. “Hey man, what’s up?” I gave him a man-hug, and nodded yo to all the others.

Cougar was my partner and my best friend in the entire Gang. We were both trusted by our leader, Big Mitch, and there was a considerable amount of trust between us as well. We talked within ourselves as I led the group into the parking lot of the Moist Palms, making sure to lock my bike on the way.

i would like to buy an axe please

  • DogOfHavoc

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Posted 19 May 2008 - 09:05 PM

One more drug question, how long do you have to wait to sell? Also, some of the drugs are more cost effective to buy in small amounts in order to make the most money, what is the reasoning behind this?

  • johnson.


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Posted 20 May 2008 - 12:56 AM Edited by johnson., 20 May 2008 - 01:01 AM.

You can hold onto the drugs for as long as you want, but i'm saying that something strange my happen. As in the drugs being seized because the gang has become inactive. Or an opposing gang moving in on you and stealing those drugs(gangwars). Iv tried to price the drugs as if it were the real world, basicly hoping to double your money.
More Phiends
Vercetti Crime Ring

Tony had set me up with a buyer for the yayo I had bought the day before. Me and him sat in the Sentinel XS, listening to the radio. I wore the blue Polo and Black shorts I found in the car, Tony was in the passenger seat rolling a joint. He and I were both in our 20’s; we did work for whoever was willing to pay us the most. Tony tapped his foot to the beat of the song that played in the car.
"We got to go see someone after we do this." Tony said. Taking his newly rolled joint and putting it to his mouth.
"Who?" I asked, rolling down my window. While he sparked the joint.
"Vercetti, He's got a job for us too do" He continued, taking a puff on the marijuana smoke and passing it to me. I took a haul on the joint, taking the smoke into my lungs. Holding it there for a few moments then exhaling. We had sat in the parking lot of the North Point Mall; I took another puff from the joint and passed it back to Tony. The weed was already getting to my head; I seemed to have deeper perception. I reached into my pocket pulling out the 2 grams of cocaine and examining it.
"You know the guy who's buying this stuff?" I asked Tony
"Yeah, some strung out junkie. He pays big cash for blow" Tony explained, taking a drag off the joint and sending it back my way. Tony then looked to his right, his eyes fixated on something. "Speaking of the junkie, there he is now" Tony pointed out, rolling down his window.
"Hey, Charles! Get over here!" Tony shouted. Charles was a tall, chubby man. He had long blond hair and a scrappy looking blond beard. He stumbled his way over to the passenger side window. The smell of alcohol was on his breath and he sluring in his words.
"Heyy Tony! hows it going man!" Charles asked, he sort of reminded me of a 5 year old. Tony tried not to acknowledge his presence.
“You got that money Charles?” Tony asked him.
“Yea right here” Charles said, pulling out a handful of cash and handing it to Tony. Tony then handed Charles the 2 grams of coke. Tony immediately began to count the money.
“Calls my phone if you need anymore Charles” Tony said, motioning me to start the car and drive away. I started the car up and drove out of the parking lot, leaving Charles standing there alone.

We arrived at a club on the Ocean Beach strip; all the neon lights from the clubs and hotels had lit up the road as if it was still the 80’s. I parked the car in the alley way out back; Tommy Vercetti had owned this private club that was mainly for V.I.P’s. We entered through the back of the club. There were no security guards at the doors, or even walking around the club. Tommy Vercetti hired people he knew and trusted to watch over the place. The entire first floor was a dance floor, on the far wall went up to a second floor where people could order drinks, Tommy sat at a booth on the top floor. A bottle of wine out on his table, a girl sat beside him with long brunette hair. She wore nothing but a bikini. His arm was around her his head tucked behind hers as if he were whispering something in her ear. She laughed.
“Mr. Vercetti… Anthony and J.R are here to see you” One of his goons told him.
Tommy looked up towards his soldier and nodded, Tony and I grabbed a seat in the booth. Tommy continued to flirt with the girl in the bikini. He did so for a few more minutes before turning his attention to us.
“J.R, Tony, sorry about that Gina here is a model for a company out in Los Angles… I was just telling her how she should come work for me, Anyway… How have you too been? It’s been awhile since I’v seen both of you.” Tommy spoke, taking a sip from his glass of wine.
“Not bad, pushing a little bit here and there” I said, Tony followed along silently
“Good, good… so business is good?” He asked, sitting back in his seat putting his arm around Gina.
“Everyone gotta start somewhere right?” I said, looking at the large crowed of people inside the club. Techno blasted through out the club, neon lights flashing everywhere.
“J.R, listen to me. I want you and Tony to come work for me. I could use a couple of guys like you in my circle of friends. If you help me sort out my troubles, I could make both of you very rich. I could even help you get those drugs around the city” Tommy said, pulling a pack of cigars from his suits chest pocket. He pulled three out and handed one to me. Tony glanced over at me, and accepted the cigar from Tommy.
“What kind of work are we talking about here” I asked, lighting the cigar.
“I hope both of you are willing to get your hands dirty” Tommy laughed, Gina did the same,
“As long as its for the right price” I said, looking over at Tony who nodded in return
“Good, Listen I need both of you too take care of something right away” Tommy began to explain, pulling his cigar away from his mouth and exhaling, He took a deep breath and began to speak again.

“A dealer down in Little Haiti hasn’t been paying the money he owes me, Head over to Little Haiti and put that idiot to work. If he refuses… do what ever it takes to convince him” Tommy said, Me and Tony looked at each other and nodded. “Come back when you two are done with that rat”

We left the club through the back door. My Sentinel XS was right where I left it. Tony and I got into the car and drove to Little Haiti. We found the dealer hanging out with a group of Haitians at the Pizza Stack. I parked the car by the curb, Tony and I watched the dealer for a few minutes. He stood in the alley way next to a Haitian Voodoo.
Tony reached into the back seat and pulled the same Baseball Bat from last night.
“Lets waste the snitch and these Haitian pricks” Tony said, I climbed out of the car. Leaving the keys inside and the engine running. We ran down the side of the Pizza Stack, catching the dealer by surprise Tony smashed him in the head with the baseball bat. One of the Haitians pulled a switch blade and slashed at my stomach, I back up in time just enough for him to cut my blue polo. I swung my fist at his face, connecting with his jaw. He dropped to the floor, just then another Haitian jumped on me pounding on the back of my head with his fist followed by a disgusting cracking sound. Tony had bashed the Haitian in the head with his Baseball bat. The last one had ran off to the Voodoo.
Tony wasn’t bothered by him getting away, he was already going through the unconcious dealers pockets. Pulling out a wad of cash and a 9mm pistol, I went thourgh the pockets of one of the Haitians pulling out some money.
“Come on lets get out of here” Tony said, starting to jog back to the XS. A small crowed was gathering infront of the Pizza Stack. Tony jumped into the drivers seat, I got into the passenger side. Making our way back too Vercetti’s V.I.P Club.
The radio booming inside the XS as its tires tore up the Vice City streets.

Notice I have sold the two grams of cocaine for $100 each as shown on the front page.
Drugs are really simple once you understand them. It is a must that you make it clear that you have sold the drugs.

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Posted 20 May 2008 - 04:21 AM

johnson. here;
I'v added links to the weapons, the links lead to pictures that show what exactly each weapon looks like. Just a small little addition that I thought would help. I'll eventually get around to adding photos of the cars. But its 12:20 AM right now, And i'v been working on BUYG stuff all day. So i'm calling it a night.


  • VinnieLeone

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Posted 20 May 2008 - 05:18 AM Edited by VinnieLeone, 20 May 2008 - 05:21 AM.

Chapter 5- This thing of ours

Salvatore Ambrosio went from Associate to Made Man to Captain. Tommy Ambrosio is now the official Consigliere of the Leone Family .

James “Jimmy Peg” Pegorino serves as the main adversary in my stories, He personally doesn’t like the Ambrosio brothers.
Jimmy breaks off from the Ancelotti Family in south Broker, causing a war to break between the Pegorino and Ancelotti families.

Thought the Leone have declined in power, they are the Richest of the five families (Technically Six Families).

Ya, Jimmy what do you want”? “I’m busy”. I asked.

“I need your crew to do a favor for me.” He said with his deep Italian American accent.

“What” I asked.

“Firefly Island is turf to the M.O.B, help me and my crew clear some of them out.” He said.

“Sure, but what does the family get”? I said.

“Sally”! “I’m running a small mafia outfit in Alderney State, Give me a Break”. He said.

“Fine, But Paulie is going to be upset” I said.

So Jimmy and my crew go to Firefly Island. My father nerver really was racist against blacks. My mother on other hand…

“What the f*ck”? One gang member said.

We started shooting and shooting. It was more intense than I thought.

“Vinnie, Vinnie get your ass over here”! Said Jimmy

“Go and get our special,” He said.

(He pulls out a 300 round Clip Ak47)

“That will show not to f*ck with Jimmy Pegorino”! He said, shooting M.O.B members like this was Vietnam.

“Thanks Sal, me and the boys will take care of everything else.” Said Jimmy.

Angie Pegorino (Jimmy’s 1st cousin) and I went to Cipriani’s Restaurant. It was one of the happiest moments in my life. So I thought. Carmine’s crew came in arguing with Frank Cipriani (Toni’s Uncle and Underboss to the Cipriani Crew). Angie nerver liked the mafia or anyone in it.

“Sally, Are you in the mob”? She said.

“Kind of, I work with the Leone’s but only for money”. I said.

“Don’t lie to me Sal, I know you’re a captain”. She said.

“Thank your friend Paulie or Little Paulie or whatever his name is”. She said with an altitude.

“Angie, I love and our son, But this is my business and I can’t let you interfere”. I said.

The next day Carmine and I went to East Holland to meet with Gambetti drug dealers.

“You got the stuff man”? Carmine said.

“Ya, you have the money”? One dealer said.

“This thing of ours” is a society of brotherhood, not business. Don Alphonzo Leone is a man who loved money.
So he organized bank heist in Chase Point and Chinatown.

The Cipriani crew helped rob Chase Bank of Liberty and we robbed a Triad run Bank.

We waited until 3:34 Pm, Little Paulie, Ronnie, Tommy and I were the men fit for the job in Chinatown. Lil Paulie had a MP5, Ronnie had a Stubby shotgun Tommy and I had Uzi’s.

In the bank

“Nobody move, get on the f*cking floor! Lil P said.

“Everyone calm down, nobody is going to get hurt”. I said, trying to calm down people.

“Tommy get the money!” “Now”! I said.

N.O.O.S.E and local police surrounded the bank; Lil Paulie ran outside with his cut of the money and started shooting the cops.

Lil Paulie jacked a Lokus and Ronnie got in with him.

Tommy and I took a NOOSE Carrier and drove to South Bohan. We lost the cops at the broker bridge.

The Next Day

(Knocking at the door)

“Coming!” I said.

I open the door and police ambushed me. I was arrested for Extortion, Racketeering and Gambling. I stood in the Alderney court. They said that I would have 23 years. In prison I talked to my lawyer Tom Goldberg.

“Sal, I have some good news and some bad.” Said Tom.

“I got them to reduce the years to 5 years.” He said.

“Crap” I said.

I was thinking of my son and daughter (who is 15), I can’t go for 5 years.

“It’s that or you testify against the family” He said.

“f*ck it, I’m not a rat”. I said.

“Just leave me in here” I said.

A week later Jimmy Pegorino came to visit me, he owes me a favor.

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Posted 20 May 2008 - 12:38 PM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 20 May 2008 - 01:03 PM.

radicell here.

marlord911: $36. Not a bad prologue, hope to see more stories from you. icon14.gif Axe ($20) purchased.

johnson.: $44. +$100 for your fifth story.

VinneLeone: $26. +$100 for your twentieth story. Go ahead, pick a vehicle under $500 for the Leones.

  • SantiagoDomingo


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Posted 20 May 2008 - 01:23 PM Edited by SantiagoDomingo, 20 May 2008 - 02:53 PM.

Why buy 1.5 grams of cocaine for $150 when you could buy 1 gram for $50? There is an extra $100 for only .5 grams . . . you could more easily buy 2 grams for $100. I don't know how much experience you have had with drugs but some of those prices don't exactly reflect the market. The smaller the quantity the more expensive, per gram, it should be. If I am going to buy a pound of cocaine, it should be more expensive overall, but a cheaper per gram price.

  • johnson.


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Posted 20 May 2008 - 03:07 PM

QUOTE (SantiagoDomingo @ May 20 2008, 08:23)
Why buy 1.5 grams of cocaine for $150 when you could buy 1 gram for $50? There is an extra $100 for only .5 grams . . . you could more easily buy 2 grams for $100. I don't know how much experience you have had with drugs but some of those prices don't exactly reflect the market. The smaller the quantity the more expensive, per gram, it should be. If I am going to buy a pound of cocaine, it should be more expensive overall, but a cheaper per gram price.

Do that then.

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Posted 20 May 2008 - 09:20 PM

Wow, BUYG is still around? I still remember writing stories for the Diablos in the original GTA 3 BUYG, when it was led by Neotrix a few years back. I never truly finished my series, but from that point on, I knew I really loved being a writer. I see BUYG has done nicely since then.

Could I join the Diablos at XXX Mags for old time's sake?

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Posted 20 May 2008 - 10:32 PM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 20 May 2008 - 11:51 PM.

Haha, I only found it in mid '06 and even by then it was on one of it's countless reincarnations. There's been a ton since, but this one has been going good for a while now. Hope it continues.

Added, get writing icon14.gif

updated by mark-2007
EDIT by radicell:
Added The Golfers as a new gang.

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