BUYG: Build Up Your Gang
Posted 21 May 2008 - 12:13 AM Edited by mark-2007, 27 May 2008 - 12:28 AM.
Here's a story I thought up ages ago with the help of devilrock28, who isn't in BUYG anymore, but credit to him for helping me. If you remember his stories there was a character that reappears here in mine - a major player in the enxt few chapters (cast your mind back, if you can be arsed, to my 7th chapter and the picture of Sal's missing brother Alessandro).
Chapter Twenty-One: First Day
I climbed out of the Huntley, sent from Joey up in Liberty, and out into the tropical air of Vice City. I checked myself in the reflection of the car windows – perfect. Tommy had bought me a smart suit from Rafael’s, apparently the best suitor in town, so I was dressed in a deep blue pinstriped suit with a white shirt underneath; no tie and the top few buttons undone, it got really humid in this city. Locking the jet black Huntley behind me, I walked towards the door of Pole Position and into the stuffy club. The air was still thick with cigarette smoke and dry ice which flowed from the fans to the side of the stage. I ducked behind the bar and into the back room, which was a jumbled mess of women’s clothing. The manager, Steve Hopkins, was stood in the far corner instructing a woman on something. I walked over to him.
“Mr. Hopkins,” I said and he turned around. “I’m Johnny di Santi, Tommy got me a job here, and it’s my first day.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, taking my hand and shaking it thoroughly. “Hey, just call me Steve, okay?”
“Sure. So, where am I needed?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, you just gotta watch that the customers don’t get handsy.”
I stepped back out into the club area and took a seat by the bar, facing the customers and dancers. I took a sip of my water and watched. A dancer in the centre podium slid down a pole and leant over to a nearby customer who recoiled in delight, stuffed a twenty down her top and probably jizzed in his pants. You gotta be a f*ckin’ loser to come here, I though to myself. Whatever makes you money though, Tommy, whatever makes you money.
After finishing my water I got up and headed through the doorway and into the back of the club. I peered through a curtain; a woman was straddling some guy as he sat on the hard, cum-stained seat and smiled moronically. A warm breeze floated past me and I turned around, the silhouette of a man stood in the open fire exit.
“Hey, you wanna draw?” he said and offered me his cigarette.
“Nah, I quit thanks,” I told him.
“Good on ya,” he said and placed the tab back in his mouth. “Pepe, Pepe Leone.” He outstretched his hand and I shook it.
“Johnny di Santi, so what do you do here?” I asked him, I hadn’t seen him around.
“Oh, I don’t work here,” he told me, throwing me off balance for a second. “I’m here to talk to the manager.”
With that he stepped round me and walked through another door and into the backstage room. I was left with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke filling my nostrils. I followed him through into where the manager was sitting at a desk.
“Mr. Hopkins, I presume?” Pepe said as he entered. Steve looked up, a confused look wrinkled across his aged brow.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m Giuseppe Leone,” Pepe told him. “I want to buy this club.”
“I’m sorry, the owner is interested in selling,” Steve said firmly and continued with the paperwork at his desk. Pepe let off a chuckle.
“I don’t think you understand,” Giuseppe said, a smug grin widened his face. “I’m taking control of this club whether you like it or not.”
I took him by the shoulder and began to frogmarch him from the room. He wriggled in my grip but I was far too strong for him to free himself. I dragged him back through the door and out through the fire escape.
“Tommy doesn’t want to sell,” I yelled at him. “Don’t come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back alright,” he sneered back.
He slinked away and I brushed my suit down. I made my way back through to backstage and dug my cell phone from my trouser pocket.
“Hey, Tommy,” I said as he answered. “There was some Pepe guy trying to muscle his way into your club.”
“Eh? Did you sort him out?”
“Yeah, he said he’d be back though,” I informed him. “He sounded pretty serious.”
“Right, well my guys can out power him no problem, but just keep an eye out for him, okay?”
The line went dead and I slipped the phone back into my pocket and continued monitoring the clientele.
Posted 21 May 2008 - 01:42 AM Edited by Wanted Assailant, 21 May 2008 - 07:51 PM.
“ A verbal contract isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. “
-Samuel Goldwyn (1882- 1974)
Travis Goodman. Adam Lockwood . Sam Cassell. Paul Boyer.
‘The Dirty Work. ‘
I do the dirty work and solve the problems the Sindaccos wish for to be eliminated. 3 weeks after the Mil Thompson killing, 1 week and ½ from the murder of Mike Cruz. The Sindaccos obviously gave me the trust to do the upcoming mass spree they had sent me to accomplish those years ago. Sent to kill four figures in a local underground firearms distribute establishment. This caused my popularity with the crime syndicate to soar and rise greatly. Two of them had arrived in Portland, the other two in Staunton Island in the same location confined. Paulie had spoken a great deal of information on the four distributers and have done his homework a great deal. I had met him and the family at the Bitch ’N’ Dog Food company, Paulie already on the verge of speaking as I walk into the office.
“Hey-y, it’s my favorite cleaner!”, Vitoree expressed interest and surprise as I walked in the room; leaning up from his chair and shook my hands just before I had taken a seat. I nodded quickly to the man as a replied greeting. Two build and armed Sindacco members straightly stood besides the Don, frozen as statues in time. Sunglasses accompanied their frowned face, communicating the expressions very well. Vitoree leaned backed into his chair, in the mid of a fixture of his suit which was really regarded in the family.
“ I have my solemn gratitude for you Gianni. You’ve done good work for our family and ahve helped up greatly. Because of your sincere kindness, the family has given you a gift.”, Spoken the Sindacco Family Don in a very appreciated tone.
“But..”, Vitorre pauses before continuing. “You’re gonna have do another job for me that’s gonna put us on the top of the mountain, if you of course help us with it.”
“Sure. The price is right?”, I replied with such uninteresting character. Although, for odd reasons it had very much fit well in personality.
“Agreed. You see, remember that guy Mil Thompson you killed a few weeks ago?”, Vitorre asked obliviously. “Well, we got information what we needed and now if you take out the figureheads of this distribute company, the Sindaccos are gonna be greatly happy with our new firearms.”, he explained after he had a fixed a stack of papers. The papers shuffled against each other, later becoming neat in place.
“So who are the warlords I have to take out?”
Vitorre told the targets in corrective sequences, detailing a background of their character.
“ We got a lot of dirt since your last murder; and have gotten the top crew.
First up is Adam Lockwood. He’s some pyromaniac on the run from cops on a daily basis. He’s a known high-status member of the Dusty and Narc. His job is primarily to ship semi-automatics to paid and reserved arms dealers. The dealers then negotiate with the gangs marked by Dusty and Narc and see where the deal gets from there.”
“ Lockwood ships the semi-automatics to various arms dealers around only on Portland. This time around Lockwood ships them to the only popular dealer on Portland and it’s Nick Star. Nick Star of course owns the local Ammu-Nation so he gets the high-powered guns monthly. During the end of a sunset, Adam has the truckload of firearms sent to the back of the Ammu-Nation.”
Vitorre did his homework and dealt a great work of speeches to enchant the killings that were about to committed. I listened attentively, already premeditating the murders in consecutive order.
“You know where that is right?”, he interrupted his own speech by asking a question just to keep attention. He easily coughs after, of course from all the constant talking.
“Kill him over ate the spot. He hangs there around 12:30 so get there once I’m done getting out the contracts”, he files me pieces of thin sheets made from the pulp of wood. Enough of knowledge and facts to take this guy is right here in dark colored fluid.
After the filing and handing in he spoke out the next target for the day. Of course the next two were any other besides this one. I would gather more information of the other two after I had murder these contracts.
“Travis Goodman,”He slammed his fist on the nicely shaped wooden desk, a thump sound was made from the enforcing impact.
“Goodman is of course of another distributor; but he’s not the normal staying-in-the-shadow type of distributor. He is in fact a member of the Messina mafia, some other known Italian gang and ports a firearm trade between the Palermos;’ monthly around three.”, he explains the next man; in a bit of a irritated audible tone.
“The Messina just came from Staunton Island, as it seems the Don decided to move in on Portland for the taking, as some of their fronts were destroyed by the Yardies. The Palermos’ originated back in Vice City, having some enormous turf between 1966 and now. They decided to expand up north and are having a trade on some heavy weapons by 1:15 late.”, articulated Vitorre; with such few words accumulated that seemed quick and short.
“Take out Goodman at the warehouse dealing in Atlantic Quays; and if you want a bonus take out some Messina and Palermos’ on the way as well. I’m sure they’re gonna scurry way due to such an uproar and flee from the scene. You’ll call us once you have taken him out and the scene is cleared for the taking. Monaco is gonna be there giving you a key to a high vantage.”
“Call?”, I questioned in a panic position.
“Yeah, Can’t see if the deal is sealed without a trusty call. There’s a phone booth around Atlantic Quays so you should get there once you’re done.”, the man explained as my panic state became calm once again.
A sheltering man was seen igniting a white-tainted mafia van. He left a completely blank face, as if the man had no emotions or even a heart shielding inside of him. He frowned, along with his soul patch beard twitching as he gave a non-friendly face. The soul patch trimmed and planted vertically up to the chin. He had worn a light and rough burly-wood shaded leather jacket; opened and revealing the lower garment beneath. Revealed to be was a color intermediate between black and white, a color of gray was painted on the attached tie. Underneath was a dark fabric known as a shirt, completely dark to human eyes. Lower; consisted of astonishing bleached jeans, Lenneth black shoes, a strip of brown much down near the soles. Flashed lights appeared after a motor beast rumbled slowly, the man in the car driving off out of a parkway. The night was empty and engulfed with depressing darkness that only highlighted the brittle nightfall. Street lights helped in to brighten it’s city, trying to uncover that Liberty City can be cheerful in a way. The eerie mist had only howled back aggressively, retaining the infamous darkness this isle had always owned.
12:17 PM, halfway there near the Ammu-Nation down in the midst of the Red Light District. Five minutes passed as I veer my eyes to the appeared front of the Ammu-Nation shop. Ammu-Nation was a gun shop clashed onto a normal apartment; a deal miraculously appeared to Star from the worldwide establishment and made him known and wealthy around Portland. He know preserves as his whole life know, just selling guns and explosives. Or that’s what I at least had read from the papers. I had drove around to the front, parking slowly on the edge of a sidewalk. During, I saw a glimpse of a small constructed alley, staircase from afar, a concave opening on the east and a normal sight in all made from concrete. After I had parked, I climbed out of the Sindacco Argentino, besides the norm my eyes caught the attention of the shop’s slogan. A red, blue and white banner beneath the large bolded words reading “Ammu-Nation”, along with “Protecting your Second Amendment rights!” in much smaller text than the other.
I slammed the door, going around the car to the streets, making my way towards the concave opening. I suggested this was the back entrance, where the supposed weapons were to be transferred here. I lifted my descended head up to the view of the entrance, only seeing emptiness, containing nothing in the fairly confined area. I pulled my hands in front of me looking straight away at the strapped watch on my wrist; 12:24 PM. The eyes on my strict face slowly scooped up to the again empty space. I had let my wrist down and slowly walked away, knowing that If I wait now he would show up sooner or later. Before I reached out onto the corner that fused with the side walk, a bundle of words quickly made me to temporary embed to the cement wall. My arms stuck to my sides, my head sideways on the close edge of the wall, picking up the small conversation.
“Ha-ha! Thanks Nick! I’m uh gonna upload the guns right now ok? Yeah... See you later!”, cried out a unknown man to me at the time in such surprise and loud energy.
I heard the quick clunked footsteps the man made and had fastened my self to a normal state of position, quickly coming up with swift thinking and I stared down to my wristwatch. The man came around the corner of the small constructed alley and had saw me looking at the timepiece upon my wrist. He nodded and greeted me with a civilian smile, a smile that a normal stranger would give you on a nice sunny set day. I looked up to his face quickly, raising my hand as a reply equipped along with a smile as well. Adam Lockwood passed by; it was only then that I saw a large truck behind ascending stairs, certain words were placed on the side of the parked load up truck. My eyes had widen in awe and slumped my arm against my side once again as the man walked into the open square concave way.
Adam Lockwood’s features was made up out of a slim black hooded blazer, thin brown cargo pants and the standard shoes were placed at his feet. Facially he had a trimmed mustache under his lips and had a grim expression on his face. Seems right for a pyromaniac on the run. I looked sideways as he went in with piles of boxes, soon after I had got up from the wall and slowly stepped towards where he entered. I decisively, slowly reached into the inside of my leather jacket; in graze I pulled out a sharp instrument. A cutting instrument consisting of a blade fixed into a handle. A WWI original trench knife, made with fused brass knuckles to firm it well. I placed it on the wall as I scooted carefully to peek on the man. Adam Lockwood placed the white taped boxes onto the floor, which were most likely contained with firearms and ammunition included in separate forms. About many boxes were there placed on the floor, Lockwood setting down the last two on the stone floor. I slipped out the protective casing of the stainless steel blade and placed it into my pocket. I inserted my dark leather gloved hands into the brass knuckles’ space where the fingers were suppose to be in. He sighed.
I went for the kill...
Before Adam could possibly turn around I gripped his skull in my arms, placing his head to my chest immediately. The man’s eyes had widen furiously as he attempted to mumble through the suppression when I covered his mouth with the leather gloves. A broad sharp blade in the other; the handle’s appearance made out of a golden yellow and brown color made as the coat. The man struggled out of my grip to escape and wildly flailed his arms and legs around, knowing nobody can hear him in such a dark night. His legs fumbled over a few of the boxes, muffling through my arm for air. Soon, I strongly jabbed the bladed instrument into his abdomen; he extremely yelled in a high pitch as blood expelled swiftly out of his organ. I firmly grip back the trench knife again, pulling back and had went for another strike. I had struck him again near his ribs, as he gurgled as more blood oozed from his body, dripping hastily onto the ground. His eyes expressed such excruciating pain and a strong unpleasant sensation as he started to feel more ill and injured.
My face were with a grimly serious act, even though my heart seemed to slightly smile as each pint of blood at each stab. Adam fell to one knee on the ground, my hold of his head still tightened. I pulled back and went for more blood. I had completely lacerated the flesh of the half-dead man, impaling deeply into the right spot of the kidneys. Once it had thrust into the pair of organs, he excreted red juice; his body had failed and he no longer felt any more enforced pain. I had let go of his head, as he drops to the floor in a sloppy pool of blood. A dull sound was made when his skull and the rest of his rag body fell to the ground. I slipped back the case to the trench knife and slowly placed it into my jacket.
I glanced at the lifeless body before taking a step over it, heading towards the Argentino.
I would like to purchase the Browning Hi Power. Also, nice to see the drug trade cleaned up. I already had a story popped into my mind concerning it.
Posted 21 May 2008 - 02:21 AM Edited by DogOfHavoc, 21 May 2008 - 08:37 PM.
Vodka is a hard liquor for a seventeen year old. Amidst the rambunctious festivitites, Dimitri was hunched over a toilet in the bathroom. Vomit expelled violently from his mouth. When it wasn't exploding out all over the seat, it was trickling down his chin. Dimitri's chest rose and fell rapidly and his breathing was shallow. Outside the bathroom he heard the loud laughing of the victorious Russians. Wiping his mouth, Dimitri pulled himself to his feet. Pushing open the stall, he stumbled over to the sink and drenched his face. He dried his face on his shirt and stumbled out of the bathroom. At the bar Boris and several guards were laughing uproariously. Vodka sloshing in their hands, they bellowed while watching a constant news report loop. In the loop a thin female reporter was discussing the breakdown of Senator Moore, and his videotaped murder of two police officers. Every time the graphic murder was shown, a new wave of laughter rippled across the room. Slumping into a booth, Dimitri put his head in his hands. Drifting between unconciousness and reality, he began to slip in his seat.
When he awoke, the bar was empty and his fat Mob liason was seated across from him. The darkness played demonic shadows across the fat ridges of his face. Seeing Dimitri wake up, he slid a small envelope across the table, and quickly waddled to his backroom. Rubbing his eyes, Dimitri peered at the page.
Inside was $400 and an address, attached were instructions to buy a box off of a man in a black voodoo at the docks. Enclosed were the keys to a sentinel. Sliding on a black jacket left for him, Dimitri vacated the hotel. Squinting in the dark, he spotted the brown sentinel parked at the corner. Dimitri jogged over to the car, climbing inside add started the engine. He turned the radio off and started slowly for the docks.
As Dimitri reached the docks, Fi Min following closely behind in his van, whipped out his cellphone. He shifted his stunted leg beneath him as he padded 9-1-1 into his phone.
Dimitri pulled into the docks, surprised by the lack of guards and gangsters. This had previously been a heavily influenced Triad region. With the recent events the Triad were busy fending of the GSF. Realization dawned as he realized that without Senator Moore's legislation, the police were almost none existant there. Grinning without realizing, he noted how ingenious his boss was. Dimitri was distracted by the large cargo ship nestled up against the docks. As he drove slowly through the compound, he was startled by sudden headlights. Covering his eyes from the light he pulled to the side. Looking over at the previously hidden voodoo, Dimitri saw two men emerge from the car. They hustled quickly over to the car. One man was holding a box, the other a very large gun. The man with the gun stayed back as the boxman approached Dimitri's window.
"Hey another Russian, you guys are just eating this sh*t up huh? Ever since this shipment came in, you guys have been buying it like crazy. As if I didn't have crates full of it. Well enough chatter, you got my green?" the man asked in a nasally voice. Dimitri grunted and handed the box through the window. Brushing his greasy hair, the weasel-like boxman rifled through the money. "All hear, beautiful." he crooned to himself as he handed the box through the window. Without another word, the men entered the car and pulled out of the docks. A large delivery truck followed them out. Dimitri started towards the exit in his sentinel. Just as he reached the road he heard police sirens. Panicking he slammed the peddle without thinking and sped off down the road. It wasn't long before he heard the police gaining on him. Whipping his eyes to the rearview window he saw two crusiers right behind him.
Wondering what they were after, Dimitri took the lid of the box and groaned. Inside were one hundred pills of E. With this new knowledge, his heart began to pound audibly louder. Cranking the wheel to the right, his car swerved and sped off down another street. Plowing down the road, cops in close pursuit, he began to gain on a large truck transporting lumber. Cautiously drawing his pistol from his pocket he took an unsteady aim on the locks holding the truckbed closed. One hand on the wheel, one hand on the gun, he fired three quick shots at the truck. Two flew wildly off course, the third managed to veer off enough and embeded in someones front door. Cursing to himself Dimitri drove haphazardly closer to the truck. When he got closer, he lined up the sight. This time he empteid his whole magazine. The bullets riocheted all over the car, one even managed to hit the lock, but to no effect.
By this point the truck driver realized he was under attack. Angrily, he veered his truck towards the middle of the road cutting off Dimitri. Dimitri slowed down and allowed the cops to gain on him. Right as they were about to come up on either side of the sentinel, he flipped the wheel to the side and went plowing through someones garden. The shocked cops, sirens blaring were amazed. They would have been even more amazed if they had noticed the truck driver stop his truck. Thinking the cops were trying to flag him down with the sirens, he stopped in the middle of the street. When the first cruiser plowed into the truck, the police officer was ripped from the car and impaled on the lumber. His head was split down the middle, and his body flailed about after impact. The wood was quickly coated in crimson. Noticing the horrific accident, the second officer spun his car to the side, and crashed into the bushes. His airbag deployed and he slipped into unconciousness.
Dimitri's heart pounded with adrenaline as he raced across the backyard. He ramped over a hedge wall and onto a back road. His body flooded with tangible excitement as he realized what he'd done. Dimitri had successfully evaded the police. The fact that an innocent officer was dead, and that another was probably suffering from brain damage, did nothing to damper his joy. His twisted mind was alive with childish joy. A passerby would have been disturbed to hear what sounded dangerously close to a girlish giggle.
Dimitri arrived at the V-Rock and was given orders to stash the MDMA until tommorrow. As he was about to leave a large guard approached him "Hey you look like a little world-weary little guy. Follow me, you earned your place with us."
Confused, Dimitri followed the man into the basement. Downstairs were at least twenty guys performing all forms of illicit activities. In the corner four man sat beneath a flickering orange light. A stack of money was piled between them, and each man was clutching cards. At the opposite end, just below the stairs, sat two middle aged guys shooting up heroine. The other guys were lighting up joints, passed out on the couch, playing around with guns, or doing some weird combination of all three actions.
As Dimitri reached the bottom of the stairs, one of the heroine addicts looked up. His eyes were red, puffy and sunken deeply into the recesses of his face. Sweat slicked his hair, and he struggled to breath. The man's leg twitched incessently. In one hand he had the hypdermic needle plunged deeply into his arm. The other hand was clutchiing an LSD tab and fluttering up and down the tract marks on his arm like a possessed butterfly. His jaw opened and shut rapidly and he managed to stutter "H-h-hey th-there lad, you wan-you wanna mainline some flow? It's s-s-soooo good, it's like eating rainbows. L-like-like drinking gold. Ye-yeah drinking gold. Y-you wanna try it. If, if you d-do it wuh, when you d-d-drop acid, you can ummm, you can fly. Yeah th-thats it, you can f-fl-f-fly." The man's face lit up with otherworldy happiness, then his eyes fell and he let out a painful moan, then he was all happiness again.
The guard steered Dimitri away from the junky "Man you don't want that sh*t, that sh*t'll kill yah. Here take some puff, got no bad side effects." The man took a long draw from a joint and passed it to Dimitri. Dimitri huffed it in, and took a seat on the couch.
Breath in, breath out, no worries.
Across town the Leone family was deciding what to do. Their hot weapon had recently been stored in a grocery store. The gun had been used in a shooting and needed to be hidden for a while. The problem was, just the previous day it had been stolen by some Russian punk. The kid had left a bloody battlefield behind and escaped into the night. He had to be found, it was just a matter of how. As the mobsters sat tapping the table in thought, the phone rang. A Leone answered the phone and said hello.
An asian voice answered "Hello, this is Fi Min, I have some information I think you need."
I would like to buy 100 pills of MDMA
Posted 21 May 2008 - 05:15 AM
|QUOTE (Road Kill Cafe @ May 20 2008, 16:20)|
| 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?
Jesus christ Road Kill Cafe, nice to see you around here. I remember when you used to write in Neotrix's BUYG.
I think I also did some time along side you in CFM.
Good to see you back in the BUYG again. Hope your stories are on par with what you put out back in BUYGLC.
Posted 23 May 2008 - 03:14 AM Edited by mark-2007, 23 May 2008 - 01:04 PM.
Anyway, here it goes...
Chater Twenty-two: Family History
“So that f*cker thinks he can boss around Tommy Vercetti?” he yelled furiously. I was sitting facing him as he paced around his office.
“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked, prepared to do anything for a man I so admired.
“Nothing yet Johnny, thanks,” he said, seemingly calmer than before. “No, nothing yet. We’ll wait and see if he does anything. He probably thinks I’m scared and will hand it over soon. I’m not scared though, not one bit.”
“Me neither, so I’ll be off to work then,” I said and picked up the keys to my Huntley and walked out the door.
It had been a day since Giuseppe Leone had threatened to be back in force but the club when I arrived was it’s usual seedy self. I took the back door and settled down in a barstool. The customers were the typical cross-section of the scummy side of the city. Drug dealers, married men, lonely men, perverts; you name it, it was there. I scoped out a man in a trucker cap getting carried away with a stripper’s antics, he was cheering and throwing dollar bills at her. Its flat peak cast a shadow over his face, hiding it from the hazy lights. I could just make out a mullet and a full beard beneath it. He was dressed in a plaid red shirt, stained with spilt alcohol. An assortment of different sized glasses stood on the table around him; shot glasses, whiskey tumblers, pint glasses, tankards, bottles of Pißwasser. He looked like a redneck, and he was drunk. Just like a redneck.
I glanced around the room and took another sip of juice. Non-alcoholic, I needed a clear head in case of a fight. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the redneck getting up and making his way through to the toilets. I followed him, keeping my distance though. I was standing looking nonchalant as he came out of the toilet a few minutes later and sparked up a Redwood cigarette. He took a long drag on it and pushed through the curtain into a private room. Seconds later a dancer dressed as a schoolgirl followed him in. I stood around the curtain, this guy was potential trouble. Just minutes into the session something alarmed me.
“Get off me! What are you doing!”
“Shut up and dance bitch!”
“Ah!” she screamed. I had barged into the room just before witnessing him stub his cigarette out on her chest. The skin singed and let of a hiss, red raw and bleeding beneath the tab end.
“Get the f*ck off her,” I said and gently moved the girl aside before landing a punch square on his nose.
He recoiled and knocked his head off the wall behind him. Cursing, he leapt out of his seat at me and wrapped his heavy hands around my neck. I head butted him, sending him stumbling in pain. I followed that up by grabbing his head and meeting it with the brunt of my knee. Blood flowed from a gash above his eye and he collapsed to the ground, out cold. I picked him up, slumped him over my shoulder and threw him roughly onto the pavement outside the back of the club, landing a cheeky last kick to the groin whilst he was unconscious.
I felt a hand pat me on the shoulder in congratulations. A smiling Tommy Vercetti greeted me as I spun round. He peered over my shoulder at the bloody pulp of the redneck before flashing me the thumbs-up signal.
“So, any sign of our new favourite customer?” he asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“No, not yet at least,” I told him.
We went back inside and sat down with a table to ourselves and had a few drinks. I ordered a Jack Daniels shot since Tommy told me I could get a lift from his chauffeur back to the mansion and that my Huntley would be towed back for me. Within an hour and a half we were both drunk and stumbling our way through to the office to look for Tommy’s vintage wine bottle. Midway through the hunt we were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Ssshh, they’ll hear us,” Tommy whispered with his finger placed over his lips. I cracked up and fell to the floor laughing.
“Hello Mr. Vercetti,” a voice said from above me. I spun my dizzy head around to see him. “I haven’t had the fortune of meeting you. Your friend here though…”
“Pepe, how ya doin’ buddy?” I said and laughed some more.
“Mr. Vercetti, I’d like you to meet my father, Alessandro Leone,” he said, completely ignoring me. An elderly man paraded into the room with his head held up high. He shared the same piercing blue eyes of his son, only the older man had silvery grey hair combed back immaculately. They both wore smart black suits with a murky green shirt beneath it and a black tie.
“Hey, you! I know you from somewhere,” I pointed at Alessandro, and squinted in thought. “Alessandro Leone… Uncle Al. Hey! D’you know Joey Leone?”
The man turned pale faced and dodged my question. Pepe spoke up again, this time his voice was commanding.
“Tommy,” he said. “This club is mine.”
“Oh yeah?” Tommy asked incredulously with a sni**er of laughter. “f*ck off before I kill you.”
“Kill me? I rather think the opposite is more likely,” he drew out a silenced 9mm pistol at Tommy, who looked down the barrel calmly, as if it was an every day occurrence.
“Ooh, got a gun now big boy, huh?” he mocked Pepe. “You know, this isn’t like it is in the movies. I’m betting you ain’t even got police protection.”
It was Pepe’s turn to be put under fire. He looked nervously at his father before slipping the gun back into his pocket, obviously thinking better of killing tonight at least.
“Well, there are other ways that the business can be taken,” he said and he and his father marched from the room.
“Bring it on then, f*cker!” screamed Tommy in a desperate attempt to get the last word.
I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache which struck the walls of my skull relentlessly. I dragged myself out of bed and slipped into a dressing gown. My cell phone rang from my trouser pocket from the night before and the shrill tones further punished my cranium. I accepted the call and put the phone to my ear.
“Hey Johnny, look,” it was Joey Leone, the last time I’d heard from him was before I left. “That Giuseppe and Alessandro Leone, do you recognise them.”
I cast my mind back through the drunken fog of the night before. The silver combed back hair, the blue eyes. “Alessandro looked familiar,” I said, still not able to pinpoint him.
“Alessandro Leone was my father’s cousin. In the 1980s when Little Luca Senior, then Don of the family, died, it left a battle for the new leadership,” he told me. I knew most of this already, but maybe I’d learn something new. “My father and his brother Alessandro were the two main competitors for the position as boss. A civil war erupted for months. My uncle was losing and knew it. He and my father agreed to a truce but Alessandro had caused so many personal grievances with my dad’s crew that he’d never be allowed to live.”
“So he had him killed?” I asked, thinking I was correct.
“What!? His own brother!? No, he let him live but at a cost. Alessandro was never allowed back to Liberty City and was made to swear an oath not to rival any family interests under fear of death,” he continued. “Well, this interrupts our business Johnny! Vercetti is a vital ally and a great friend of mine. You will deal with them, yeah?”
“Of course,” I told him.
Chater Twenty-three: Retribution
I walked down stairs, already showered and change, ready for the day ahead of me. I got into the kitchen and Tommy was sat hunched over his cell phone at the counter. He kept dialling number, putting the phone to his ear, and then trying again.
“f*ck!” he screamed, an edge of terror in his voice.
“What’s wrong Tommy?” I asked, pouring myself a bowl of cornflakes.
“Read,” he said and pushed across a scribbled note to me. I unfolded it and read:
| Tommy, I told you not to f*ck with me. Why didn’t you just listen?|
If you want to see your son again, then bring the deeds for all of your properties to the agreed location. Call this number to contact us.
Yours sincerely, Giuseppe and Alessandro Leone.
“sh*t, what have you done so far?” I asked.
“I’ve tried ringing the number on it but they won’t answer yet,” he said, clearly worried. “Peter. My only son. Gone.” He was inconsolable.
“Okay, we’ll get some guys of yours together and call them,” I said, trying to lift his spirits. “They’ll answer. They have to. Otherwise, what would be the point in it all?”
Tommy sniffed, “Yeah, you’re right.”
“We get guys together and then we can go to the meet, get your son and make it work out that you keep your power,” I convinced him.
An hour later and there was fifteen guys milling around Tommy’s mansion. Tommy was still periodically dialling in the provided number but to no avail. No doubt Pepe was just wanting to make him sweat. We bundled into cars together about ten minutes after that, by which time it was quarter past eleven in the morning. I got in my Huntley with Tommy, a guy called Paulie Trieste, and another young man who I knew only as Baker, he looked like a tough motherf*cker and anything but Italian. He wore his hair long and in a ponytail, he had a leather waistcoat and chains hung from his torn jean pockets.
“Ah, we should have taken bikes around the city,” he sighed with longing. “Roam free, yeah?”
We checked all major places where we’d thought they could be. North Point Mall car park was empty, there was no-one in the lighthouse, the huge film studios were abandoned and the scrap yard in Little Haiti was deserted too.
“Hey Tommy,” Paulie piped up. “Remember that place we took Rosenberg when we dealt with him? How about we check there?”
“Good idea,” Tommy said. He’d kept fairly quiet during the car ride. “Johnny, take a right here and go the other way to the airport at that fork.”
“Yeah, it’s an abandoned docking warehouse,” Paulie confirmed.
I accelerated past Sunshine Autos and turned right to head to the airport. Seconds later I parked up outside of the huge empty warehouse. An old, battered white van stood outside with its’ doors wide open. We all got out and strapped up. Tommy armed himself with an M4, I picked up the MP5, Baker took a desert eagle from the glove compartment and Paulie drew a stubby shotgun from under his seat. Now ready, we checked the van, but it was empty. Tommy lead the way into the warehouse, he cautiously entered and took cover behind a box. I crept ahead of him and peered down into the docking bay. Two men, hard to distinguish from such a distance, stood over a third guy. The third guy was tied to a chair and gagged.
“Down there,” I mouthed over to Tommy and pointed in the direction where they stood. I crawled back over to the group.
“We’ll go back outside and call for more people,” Tommy commanded us; he was a natural born leader. “I’ll get some guys to arrive and surround the top. Maybe some snipers will do the job.”
Amazed by the extent of his power, I walked back outside and we waited whilst Tommy rang around some friends to come and help out. Twenty minutes later, four more carloads of people arrived. There were eighteen of us in total, a little excessive, but necessary given the circumstances. We all gunned up and headed into the warehouse for the showdown. Tommy held M4 in one hand and the box of deeds to his property, to be used as bait, in the other. He led the way and stood overlooking the three men below.
“Gentlemen,” Tommy announced. They all looked up, they could only see Tommy and I from where they stood. “Have we still got a deal?”
“Mr. Vercetti, how did you find us here?” Pepe asked, incredulous.
“Never mind that, let’s get down to business,” he said and trudged down the steps.
“Tommy, you can’t bring your gun down here,” Alessandro said in concern.
“Sorry but I must, it gives me a sense of security, please,” Tommy replied and continued his way over towards the Leone partnership.
“Okay, the deeds are in that briefcase, yes?” Pepe asked greedily.
“Of course, but first I’m going to need my son,” Tommy said.
Pepe quickly did as he was told and cut the binds with a knife. Peter got up weakly and scampered over to his father. Tommy took his son in an embrace and walked off up the stairs with him. At my side again, he ordered Peter to wait in the car.
“Now. Giuseppe, Alessandro,” he said, addressing both of them. “You didn’t think I’d let you live, did you?”
They looked at each other in horror, realising they were now at the mercy of the Vercetti gang. A dozen or so men stepped forward; the rest had flanked the sides to make sure of no escape. However, Pepe and Al made a run for it. Each puling out there own gun before we could even react, they fought their way through the blockade of people at the side. The entirety of Tommy’s men, myself included, let loose on the area. Bullets splintered into the ground, deafening my ears. I kept my trigger finger pressed in a blind hope that I’d hit one of them. They were now escaping; they were heading for the side exit and towards my Huntley. Praying that Tommy’s son hadn’t chosen the Huntley to wait in, I let a round of fire off at them. Pepe ran ahead to start the car up and pick his dad up. Baker behind me took a shot with his gun and clipped Alessandro in the skull. The waiting Huntley was wallpapered in brain matter. It layered the windscreen and the wipers scraped it off, leaving a horrified Giuseppe Leone pen-mouthed looking at his dead father. I took careful aim with my MP5 and popped off a few more shots. Giuseppe slumped over into his seat, a bloody mess. My Huntley was f*cked now though.
We gathered outside the scene, two Vercetti men had been wounded and needed hospital care. They were driven away by other gang members and we were left to congratulate each other. Tommy wasn’t around for the celebrations though; he’d whisked Peter straight off to the mansion to check if he was alright.
EDIT: This is chapter 22 and 23, I'll go and change my story count. Also bought a Bullet for the Leones, which I've edited in - see below.
Posted 23 May 2008 - 09:33 AM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 23 May 2008 - 01:03 PM.
mark-2007: Chapter 21, $42. Chapter 22, $48. Good job and good luck with your 1000th post.
Wanted Assailant: $40. Browning Hi-Power, $90, purchased.
DogOfHavoc: Great, $44. 100 of MDMA, $450, purchased. Also, with this story, your gang has unlocked its special vehicle, the Sultan.
Keep 'em coming, guys.
EDIT by mark-2007: Just changed my story count, also bought myself a Bullet, cost $800. Had $2733 - $800 = $1933. Sweet!
Posted 24 May 2008 - 02:27 AM
“Jimmy I need Ray Boccino’s crew to take some evidence they have against me.” I said.
“Sal, I’m kind of busy with the Pavanos right now.” he said.
“Jimmy look you owe me, so please do this favor for me.” I said with an attitude.
“Fine, what’s the job”? He asked.
“Silvio DeMeo of the Gambetti family, he is standing trial against me, take him out on national television”. I said quietly.
Jimmy left that second I told him. To be honest Jimmy’s family is growing quickly, In June he had about 50 guys, now he has 130 and some strong connections to the New Guensey mob. On October 23,2008 Silvio was on the Liberty View news channel, I was watching him on television.
“Salvatore Ambrosio is very bad man and he deserves to be in prison for lif-. He words were cut short by a drive by made by the Boccino Crew. The court decided to release me in November. The store clerks were replaced and the rackets were destroyed. The Gambetti Family declared war against the Pegorino and their allies. The Lupisella and Messina were backing the Pegorino Family. And the Ancelotti, Forelli and Pavano families were backing the Gambetti. Our allies’ nerver fought but the Pegorino-Gambetti war lasted until 11/17/08.I couldn’t believe Jimmy was still angered by Jon Gravelli move on the Sprunk Factory in South Alderney, Jimmy asked Carmine’s crew to take out Jackie Gravelli (Capo) and Bobby Mussolini (Soldier). Jimmy was always a hothead, but this damn moron went crazy! So after the peace, talk we learned that Tommy Vercetti is finally moving in Liberty. Tommy was turning 54 years old.
“What the f*ck you want Vercetti.” Jimmy said.
“End the f*cking war with the Pavano and Gambetti families.” Vercetti said.
“Go f*ck yourself, I don’t need to end sh*t.” Said Jimmy holding his Glock.
“Whoa, calm the f*ck down.” I said.
“Look, Jimmy consider this a warning, I’m Tommy Vercetti one of the most powerful men in the country.” He said.
Jimmy tucked away his Glock 17; he left the room in an intense enraged way. When he shut the door it broke the freaking windows.
Santino Vercetti and his girlfriend were having sex, when to Pegorino soldiers busted in and kidnapped Santino.
(St. Ann’s Holy Church)
Angie and I got married; my best men were Gaetano.A, Jimmy, Lil Paulie, Paulie C., Vincent Balestrieri, Carmine, Vito and Anthony Corrado Jr. When we took the wedding to the veranda a brown limo pulled up and opened fire on us. Jimmy Pegorino was shot 12 times and survived. Jimmy and the commission and decided to whack Vercetti, but when the commission said its ok. Of course Jimmy didn’t listen.
(In this Scene it circles Jimmy and Tony Corrado J.R, Although Tony is not talking at all.)
(Firefly Island Projects)
“Uh… My f*cking head, W-Where am I?” Said Santino.
“Your father f*cked up pretty bad kid” Said an anonymous voice.
“Who the f*ck are you?” Said Santino.
A strange silhouette appeared from a bright light, Santino eyes widen greatly. It was Jimmy Pegorino with a pistol in his hand.
“What the f*ck do you want Peggy?” He said.
“Nothing.” Said Jimmy with a maniac look on his face.
“Then why are you taking this so personally?” Asked Santino.
“I’m not taking it personally, who says it’s personal.” Jimmy said.
“Tony Jr., bring out Alfredo Vercetti.” Asked Jimmy.
“Wait, what did you f*cks did to my brother?” Asked Santino.
Fredo came out of the room in shambles; he was beaten up so badly you couldn’t identify him.
“Oh my god, Fredo!” Cried Santino.
“Sonny- help me!” Fredo voice was cracking, his feet were incased in cement. Jimmy grabbed a saw and some gasoline.
“You see what happens to people when they f*ck over Jimmy Pegorino?” Jimmy said.
Jimmy pored gasoline all over Fredo. Then he did something that shocked me forever, He slit Fredo throat slightly and lit him on fire and then shot him in his head. The brains were all over Santino who was vomiting.
“Sonny, you see what happens?” Jimmy asked.
“Go to hell Jimmy!” Said Santino.
Jimmy picked up a saw and smack Santino with it.
“Gentlemen, lets leave this poor Vercetti piece of sh*t.” Said Jimmy.
I was waiting in the car; sense I was the first to get out the building. I saw Jimmy and Johnny Boy Barsosa walk to the car.
Jimmy pulled out his cell phone and the building exploded. Now I know I was in the Pegorino Family, If I can be as brutal as Jimmy or Johnny Boy. I can be a made man.
Posted 24 May 2008 - 07:44 AM
|QUOTE (johnson. @ May 20 2008, 21:15)|
Jesus christ Road Kill Cafe, nice to see you around here. I remember when you used to write in Neotrix's BUYG.
I think I also did some time along side you in CFM.
Good to see you back in the BUYG again. Hope your stories are on par with what you put out back in BUYGLC.
Ah, yes. The good old days. Well, the only difference is that I don't have as much free time. Everything else is the same.
Thanks johnson. It's been a while since I've written a full length story, but I'm confident I still have it in me. Heh heh. Listen to me, talking like I'm coming out of retirement. lol
Posted 24 May 2008 - 07:01 PM
$1933 + $30 = $1963
Quite a good story there. Nice and graphic with the death of Fredo
Keep it up fellow BUYGers
rated und updated by mark-2007
Posted 24 May 2008 - 08:42 PM Edited by mark-2007, 26 May 2008 - 04:53 PM.
Chapter Twenty-four: Homecoming
I was at the mansion again with a bottle of whiskey in hand when my phone rang.
“Hello,” I slurred clumsily.
“Hey Johnny, you alright?” it was Joey Leone, he sounded concerned. “How’s Vice City treating you?”
“This place is good yeah,” I replied slowly. “I liked it more back in Liberty.”
“Anyway, great work you did clipping Pepe and Uncle Al,” he congratulated me. “But something has happened up here.”
“What’s wrong Joey?” I could sense a worried tone through my depressed drunkenness.
“It’s Alberto, he’s been diagnosed with cancer,” Joey told me gravely. “He’s not got long left.”
Alberto, he was my captain, my mentor. Alberto, the father figure that I’d had so little time to get to know. I had to get back to see him, even if it was just a few minutes.
“I’ll be up tomorrow,” I announced to Joey. “Have the Police moved on from me in their case yet?”
“Yeah, we’ve pulled some strings and it should be safe for you,” he informed me. “I’ll book some tickets for tomorrow.”
He hung up and I walked downstairs, throwing the empty whiskey bottle into a bin on my way. Tommy was sitting, joking around with his son over a bowl of cereal. I took a seat next to him, swaying in a drunken stupor but they didn’t notice. The milk splashed over the side of the bowl as I poured it over my cornflakes.
“Hey Tommy, Peter,” I nodded at each of them.
“How’s life treating ya today?” asked Tommy.
“My captain has cancer,” I moaned. “I’m going back to Liberty to see him tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said and gave me a consolation pat on the shoulder. “Is there anything I could do for you?”
“No, you’ve been a fantastic host,” I told him with a smile. “You’re also a brilliant friend Tommy.”
That night we all headed out for a meal at a Vercetti-owned restaurant called Mama Rosa’s. Pizzas and wine, yet it was a fairly solemn affair for me. I couldn’t wait to see how Alberto was.
The next day I got showered for the last time in the vast en suite bathroom, got changed into some comfortable clothes for the flight, and then headed downstairs. Tommy greeted me as usual, this time he had an envelope with my tickets. I checked them, scheduled to leave at 18:45, about eight hour’s time. At four o’clock, I was waving goodbye Peter, Mercedes and her months-old baby. Tommy accompanied me to the airport and bade me goodbye at the terminal.
“Hey, there’ll be something waiting for you back at home,” he said. “You should like it.” He added with a smile.
“Alright, thanks Tommy, thanks for everything,” I said and shook his hand, then left to walk up the terminal to my waiting lounge.
The airport lounge was full of tanned, olive-skinned tourists returning to the hustle and bustle of Liberty. I took a seat at the lounge bar and downed a few shots of vodka before relaxing back in a padded seat and waiting for my flight to be called. When it was I made my way out to the awaiting bus, which drove us to the airport steps. I paused at the top of them and gazed back on the dead paradise of Vice City. My seat was in first class, the best of the best from Liberty City’s finest. The vodkas took effect not long after and I fell asleep not long after takeoff, only waking up when the intercom voiced that we were landing in fifteen minutes. The plane’s wheels pulled forwards and the plane touched down smoothly on runway three of Francis International Airport.
“The temperature is 13°C, a clear, dark night. Thank you for flying with FlyUS and I hope you enjoy your stay in Liberty City,” I was back.
Chapter Twenty-five: Bar Brawl
I sat on a bench outside Francis International and waited for someone to pick me up. I would have had by Huntley shipped up to me, but it was currently a smouldering wreck with the remains of Pepe’s body layering the cream leather seats. I hadn’t seen everyone in about three months now.
“Johnny!” a familiar voice called my name. I looked up, my friend Dom Cerrazino was walking towards me beaming. He caught me in a bear hug and stood aside, Jules Bianchi was next to him. He gave me a welcoming pat on the back and we left for the car. I ducked into their waiting Sentinel and we set off towards Pike Creek Hospital. Over the water, the lights of Staunton Island dazzled. The city was as alive as ever.
We trudged across the hospital yard and through the sliding doors of the lobby. The room was on the third floor, so we took the elevator up and stepped out into the empty corridor. The lights flicked into dim life as we passed them, illuminating our path like Theseus and the Minotaur.
Room 224, we were there. I peered through the glass panel, the curtains were pulled around Alberto’s bed, people must already be in there, I thought. Dom knocked and entered, me and Jules followed and pushed our way through the cupboard.
Sitting and standing around the bed were Joey Leone, Mike Antonello, Toni Cipriani and Vincenzo Gillo. Alberto was sat propped up by a bundle of cushions. His face was pale and gaunt; the skin clung loosely to his cheeks and jaw line. He was panting heavily through the tubes coming from his nose and wrapped around his ears. His hair had receded from the thick, white clump of a few months ago to wispy strands.
“Hey kid,” he croaked, referring to me with his usual endearing term. “How was your holiday?”
We laughed, “Yeah, it was alright, thanks.”
That would turn out to be the last time I saw Alberto. The doctors declared his time of death as 11.30 pm on Sunday the 14th of June, 2004. When I got that phone call I hung up and cried, for hours. Eyes red and throat sore, I fell asleep with a half bottle of whiskey in my hand still. I woke up with a hangover, they seemed to be constant these days and I’d got used to them. I groggily stumbled my way over to my door and collected the mail stuffed through the letterbox. One was a postcard showing a picturesque view of Washington Beach in Vice City. I flipped it over in my hands and read the back.
Your friend, Tommy Vercetti
P.S. Of yeah, it’s in Garage 14 on Rockson Alley behind the Newport Garage.
I picked my keys from the shelf and tore along in my Sentinel to the garage. The alleyway was a row of garage doors, a few were open but mine, number 14, was shut. I parked up outside and used the key supplied in a parcel to open the door. The noon light bleated down on the city, illuminating the garage inch by inch.
I gasped in delight. There, sitting in the middle of the garage floor, was a brand new, 2004 series Bullet; blue with a sleek white stripe down the middle. I opened the door and found the keys on the seat inside. Placing them inside, I revved the engine a few times just to listen to its power. I sat back, belted up and tore out of the garage. Along the alleyway I speeded and out into the streets of Staunton Island.
A few hours later, and with the Bullet stored safely away in a St. Mark’s garage, I got back to my apartment to get ready for the funeral. The last few hours of excitement had done nothing to lighten my overall mood. I drank a few more gulps of whiskey, changed into a black suit, grey shirt and black tie combo, and made my way into the waiting Sentinel, driven by Dom. Me, Jules, Joey, Toni and Dom all met up at the Leone mansion and crowded into a limousine. We cruised over the Callahan Bridge and over to the church on the west side of the island. There were a few people at the funeral already. It was a fairly low-key affair, not like mob funerals used to be. This was because the FBI took the opportunity to make connections between suspects at these meetings, and any unnecessary interest wasn’t needed. We all cast our own handful of dirt upon the grave, laid a few flowers and wreaths by the headstone and left.
Back at Cipriani’s Ristorante we all toasted Alberto and drank to him. The session was over after an hour but I wasn’t satisfied. I headed over to an old bar in the Red Light District. It was Sindacco turf, but there was no bad blood between us so I walked right in. Smoke clung to the air and formed clouds before me as I marched to a stool by the bar, took a handful of peanuts and ordered a double scotch. I’d downed a few more drinks by the time two guys came walking in laughing. They looked familiar; one of them was kind of short and mean looking but the other stood tall and looked slightly dopey, especially his eyes. I knew they were the Ristieri brothers, but their first names escaped me. Searching for their names, I downed the rest of my whiskey. They were connected to the Sindaccos, the shorter, older brother was a made guy. His brother, the taller one, hadn’t earned his buttons yet but was a loyal guy. They took a seat along the bar and ordered pints of Logger Beer.
“Hey, Johnny di Santi, am I right?” the short guy asked, looking up half way through his pint.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I smiled and desperately grasped at a name. “Angelo, yeah?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said and leaned back to let his brother give a dopey smile. “This is my little brother Gianni, although little isn’t really the right term.”
We laughed and had a talk whilst drinking. We were chatting about a range of things when Angelo noticed my dark clothes.
“Hey, you been robbing some place? What’s with the black clothes?” he asked.
“Oh no,” I correct him. “Alberto D’Amico died, it was his funeral today.”
“Oh that old f*cker,” he gloated. “It’s about time, the old prick!”
“What the f*ck are you on about?” I yelled to him, Gianni seemed to be smiling. “And you can f*ck off too!”
I picked up my shot glass and cracked it over his temple; he slumped onto the bar in a stream of blood. Pushing the door open, I stormed from the bar and stumbled home drunkenly. I didn’t know why I’d done it, Gianni wasn’t in the wrong, it was Angelo who I should’ve hurt. I found my way to my Sentinel, The bullet, I’d decided, was only for special occasions. I grasped the handle of the door and yanked it open, sitting down in the soft padded seat. I checked the glove compartment. My piece was there still, but I wasn’t looking for that. I rummaged further and found a bottle of whiskey undid the top and took a swig. This would all be alright, there’d be a sit-down and we’d work it all out, they were in the wrong too.
I lifted the bottle up to my face to finish the dregs, which was mostly backwash but nonetheless contained some alcohol. Through the bottom of the bottle I could make out a guy standing outside my window peering inside. I withdrew the bottle back to my lap for a better look. Angelo Ristieri stood, pistol pointed in my face, leering at me. His eyes were full of fury and he wore an expression of anger. Hatred was etched into every furrow and wrinkle of his face. I slowly moved my hand from the neck of the whiskey bottle to the glove compartment. Angelo caught me, this was it. I stared up at him and he squeezed the trigger.
Think I'll take this time to ask for a switcheroo and head for the Vagos at the Gang House.
Thanks for reading my Leone thread, hope you enjoyed all 25 stories.
EDIT: Also would like a switchblade for the Vagos. So gimme a switchblade, bitch!
Posted 24 May 2008 - 10:26 PM Edited by VinnieLeone, 26 May 2008 - 12:17 AM.
(Honkers strip club in Alderney City)
When I heard that Jimmy assassinated Santino and Fredo Vercetti, I wasn’t surprised. The Gambetti, Lupisella Families (Heads of the Commission) decided to go against the Vercetti Outfit. The Vercetti had more men than the Five Families.
Well it was the Five Families vs. Vice Mafia vs. Alderney Mafia.
Jimmy Pegorino, Ray Boccino and I planned our first attack.
“Ray, Peter Cangiano is one of the Vercetti Drug ring leaders.” Jimmy said.
“So what about him?” said Ray.
“Well see if we can get him and his crew to switch sides, Sally who is Peter’s Captain?” Jimmy said.
“ Jackie Cavalieri I think.” I said.
“Good” Said Jimmy.
(Phil Bell then walks in)
“There are some f*cking blacks outside man, they have guns.” Phil said.
“Crap, Vercetti beat us to the wrap.” Ray Said,
“ Let’s take the back way out.” Phil suggested.
So we ran out the back into Ray’s car, later that night Lil Paulie and I went to the Majestic hotel to kill Joseph Clemenza.
In room 213 I saw Jimmy with his Captains Luca Silvestri and Ray Boccino. They were beating Bobby Bongiovi.
“Why!” Asked Bobby.
“Because you left my family to join the f*cking Vercetti family.” Said Jimmy.
“Luca shoot that piece of sh*t!” Jimmy Demanded.
(Four Gunshots rang out.)
Joe Clemenza wasn’t there, but he got a cab to Little Italy. Lil Paulie and I followed him to Joseph DiLeo’s Waste Company.
When Clemenza step out of his cab, I ran to him and shot him in the right eye.
So from the looks of it we were winning until one day.
(South Bay, Bohan) December 9
“Tom stay in the car, I’m going to talk to Mickey.” I said.
“Ok bro.” Said Tommy.
It started to snow, as I walked near the building to get Mickey. I heard seven gunshots and then I turned around.
Tommy was slumped over in the seat. My eyes started to water.
“Tommy!” I screamed.
I rushed over and grabbed my blood ridden brother…
“Salvatore, why did this happened?” asked Tommy.
“Just calm down please, Tommy don’t talk.” I pleaded.
“Someone help me, please someone help me!” I cried out. It started to snow, my mom always said that when you have accepted Jesus it will snow.
Tommy was put into a coma; he was shot in the head twice and two bullets to the pancreas.
I went to the 69th street diner in Bohan, I can hear people’s conversations.
“Ha, you should have been there.” Said some guy.
“His head was jolting and everything” The guy said.
“Wow so you did whack an Ambrosio brother?” asked a drunken companion.
“I’m sorry did you say Tommy Ambrosio?” I asked putting on a calm face.
“Sure did!” Said the man.
“Well I’m his brother Salvatore Ambrosio and Tommy sends his regards.” I said as I pulled out my stubby shotgun.
“Hey, Hey Sally calm down ok?” Said the man.
“What’s your name?” I demanded.
“David Hancock” He said.
“I’m with the old Johnny Sindacco crew, please Sally don’t do this please, please!” He said.
I felt sorry for the little bastard, so a got my chair and smacked him across the face with the chair’s legs.
“f*ck, my face!” He said.
“Let that be a lesson for you” I said.
As I walk away the man tripped me, then he took my shotgun.
“Ya, who the real man?” He said. Holding the shotgun closer and closer to my face.
“I got you and your brother- oh this is to good-” I shot him in the arm with my desert eagle that I had in my coat pocket.
As I stood back up, I started taunting him as he tried to shoot me with the shotgun that was nerver loaded.
“Well, Well, Well look what why we have here?” I said pointing my gun at him.
“Please stop, I have kids!” He pleaded to me.
“Ya so did my brother!” I said as I shot him in his leg.
“Sally look we both lost someone, but need to get over it!” He said.
“Oh, Get over it”? “ That’s a good plan.” I said. I shot David in the face six times and left the bar to my home in Dukes like nothing happened.
Posted 27 May 2008 - 05:23 AM
Paul Renzetti was being made today, I was so happy. Angie was in Guensey City for the week. So we went to hangout at the Honkers, Ray Boccino came in drunk as hell.
“Well look who its Mr. Bianchi, hey I got a job for the Leone’s there is a truck filled with diamonds.” Ray said slurring his words.
“Ray, you need to calm down” I said.
“Hey Sally isn’t Lil Paulie being made today?” Asked Ray.
“Ya, he was supposed to be made about 3 minutes ago.” I said as looked at my watch.
Lil Paulie walks in a room with two Vercetti gunmen open fire on Paulie with Uzi’s. Paulie runs out of the room and ends up in the middle of the street. Paulie leans on his Savanna, he starts to laugh and pulls out a cigar. He lights it, the two gunmen catch up with a broken Paulie. Paulie flicks them off and pulls out his Baby Uzi, he mowed down both gunmen but passed out and died by loss of blood. Lil Paulie was 21 years old.
It’s been 44 mins and Lil Paulie wasn’t here yet, I turned on the news channel.
“Alleged mobster Paulie Renzetti was killed by gunmen with ties to the Vercetti crime organization, FIB has done a mass search for Vercetti and Leone members.”
I was at the bar, shocked about what I heard. My phone started to ring. It was Julies Bianchi.
“Ya, what do you want?” I asked.
“It’s the Don, he has been shot!” He said.
“Who shot him?” I asked as I left the club.
“The Vercetti.” He said.
“That’s it I’m tired of Vercetti’s bullsh*t!” I said yelling into my phone.
People started to stare at me, so I pulled out my gun and fired widely into the air.
“Sally, there’s another thing Gaetano woke up from the coma.” He said.
I started to cry for a second, “Good, we need to set up a funeral for Paulie.” I said.
(1 week later.)
Paulie Renzetti’s Funeral.
Bianchi was the first to step and say a few thing about Paulie.
“Paul was a good kid, he was loud and headstrong.” Bianchi said as his voice started to break.
“I’m sorry, my buddy Johnny was a lot better at this.” He said, he then started to leave the funeral.
Jimmy then got up and started walking towards me.
“Sally, the boys are in place are you ready?” He asked me.
“Sure, lets do this!” I said.
The Hit on Vercetti was in process, we whacked his Consigliore Michael Lombauzzi and His Captains Bobby Vendetta, Mark Drago and Gay Tony Lucchese.
Then came to whack Tommy himself, we learned that Tommy was in Dukes and he was trying to escape to New Guensey.
Francis International Airport,
Tommy and Mercedes were in the front of the airport; Julies Bianchi and I made our move.
“How long are going to be gone?” asked Mercedes.
“I don’t know but be careful honey.” Tommy Said.
Bianchi walked next to Tommy and blew his brains all over Mercedes and the car.
“Tommy, Tommy no!” Mercedes screamed.
“Shut the hell up, you f*cking bitch!” Bianchi said. Bianchi shot Mercedes in the face and ran to a nearby Buffalo.
Even though I knew that the war was over, I felt empty, my brother Gaetano was wheelchair bound and Paulie C. was becoming the Don in a few days. I knew this meant I would become Street boss. Something was just making me sad.
(Flashback to 1989)
Vito Lupisella and Giorgio Ambrosio are talking about “Pest Control”.
“We need to see if old man Lupisella would let us deal drugs with Tommy Vercetti” I suggested.
“I don’t know, Vincent Lupisella doesn’t do drugs.” “Giovanni, your brother is he coming out of the Alderney State Prison?” asked Vito.
“ I think in about 4 days, has Mark doing.” I asked
“He is now a made man, Giorgio I think your son is listening to us.” He said.
“Nah, he is sleeping.” I said, I knew that Sal was sleeping. He couldn’t have been awake it’s the late 80’s and its 12:34 AM.
“Well Giorgio I’m going to go back to South Bohan.” Vito said.
“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said. (Flashback over.)
(Journey startes to play)
Julies Bianchi walks in and sits next to me, Tommy then comes in with his new girlfriend, and Angie then walks in with my son and cousin Mario Di Santi.
“Well let’s eat fellas.” Tommy said. Then I had an ice-cold feeling about something. I look out the window and a Sindacco
Hit man was standing outside the Ristorante, my eyes widen. He pulled the trigger. (Scene blackout and only gunshots are heard.)
Posted 27 May 2008 - 06:50 AM Edited by johnson., 27 May 2008 - 06:52 AM.
Vercetti Crime Ring
I peered into the rearview mirror, the cops slowly driving by on my left side watching them as they drove off. The radio played in the background; I had dropped Tony off at home and pondered on going back to my place to call it a night. Tony had left the gun he found on the dealer in the XS, it sat in the passenger seat under a blue jacket. I glanced back up at the street, putting the car into first gear and driving back home.
I stepped out of the parked Sentinel XS, The underground garage door closed. I shut the car door and started making my way to the elevator doors. A tune played inside the elevator, the elevator brought me up to my floor. I walked to my apartment door and fumbled with the keys before I heard the locks behind the door come undone, and the doorknob turned in my hands. Her long blonde hair was covering her face; she starred at me with a smile crossing her face. I grabbed her and kissed her while making my way through the door, closing the door behind me.
The girl at the door was the only girl who ever knew me best; I had been with her ever since I came to Vice City. I met her the day after I moved to Vice City; Tony had taken me to party up in one of the penthouses that were high up in the Vice City Downtown skyline. She had long blonde hair and was in incredible physical shape. We were both in our early twenty’s. When Tony introduced both of us, I immediately knew I was in love.
I walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began filling it up with water from the water dispenser on the large stainless steal fridge. The glass had filled with water and I quickly gulped it down before moving towards the bedroom where there she was back in the bed.
I quickly stripped down into a pair of boxers and slipped into the bed, I put my arm over Emilie’s body and held her close to me. In a few moments I had fallen fast asleep.
I woke up the next morning, turning over seeing that she wasn’t laying beside me. I looked outside at the sunny city skyline from my bed; the apartment that Emilie and I owned was fairly swank. But that’s the way she always liked things, top of the line and nothing but the best. I stammered out of the bedroom and into the master bathroom a large shower was enclosed in the corner of the bathroom. I showered quickly and got changed into a pair of dark blue faded jeans and a white polo, I entered the Kitchen where I found her cooking a late breakfast, and I wrapped my arms around her face and kissed her cheek.
"Morning" I smiled,
"Hey you" She replied, placing the eggs and bacon on a plate and offering it to me. I took the plate and sat down on a stool. She served herself and sat down with me at the table. The kitchen overlooked the living room, in the living room were red leather couches and on one wall was a widescreen plasma television. The red couches surrounded a clear glass coffee table. And sleeping on the ground by the large glass windows that revealed the city skyline was a 160 pound rotwieller named 'Kemo' I looked over at Emilie who didn't quiet seem to be acting like her normal self.
"Something bothering you?" I asked, reaching for her hand.
"There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you..." She paused, looking at me with this strange look on her face. I looked back at her.
"Babe?" I said out loud, trying to get her to finish her sentence.
"Jr, I'm pregnant..." She said unsure if I would be happy or angry, a cluster of emotions crossed my mind. I looked at her and kissed her.
"Are you serious?" I asked a large smile on my face.
"3 months now... You aren’t angry are you?" she asked me,
"Babe, why would I be angry... You are the only girl I want to spend the rest of my life with. We are both going to make amazing parents" I told her, she blinked at me before we both kissed again.
At around 1:30 I was sitting outside on the large porch of the apartment sitting in one of the lawn chairs listening to music and reading a newspaper, the sun hung over the city sky. I had called Tony earlier and told him the news of Emilie being pregnant, he congratulated me. I then told him I’d call him back after I spoke with Tommy.
My cell phone rang, I looked at the caller I.D 'Tommy.V' lit up the small screen.
"Tommy!" I greeted
"Hey J.R, How are things" He asked
"Perfect, I’m going to be a father" I replied
"Best news I’ve heard all day kid, listen... I need you to come down to my place right away something has come up and I need you and Tony to take care of it. Can you do that for me?" He asked
"No problem Tommy, I'll go pick Tony up right now. We'll be there in a half hour"
"Sounds good J.R talk to you in a bit" He finished
"Later" I said, closing my cell phone shut. I walked back into the apartment, clutching my cell phone one hand and the newspaper in the other. Emilie was lying on the couch watching some day time television show. I set the paper down on the couch.
"I got to go meet Tony and Tommy" I told her, kneeling down and kissing her forehead. I placed some money on the table and grabbed a few more things before making my way down to the garage and on my way to pick up Anthony.
We arrived at Tommy’s Mansion; the place was heavily guarded by his most trusted soldiers. A Stretch limo was parked on one end of the driveway, and by his garage was a red Infernus, beside the flashy sports car was a black Sentinel XS.
I parked my car by the Stretch and was guided by a few soldiers into the Estate. The interior was a crimson red, with pictures of Tommy and his family on the walls. The stairs led up to a black office. Tommy sat at his chair, puffing a Cuban cigar. On the desk was a few grams bagged of cocaine and a pistol. Tony found a seat by the desk and relaxed his legs. I still stood.
“J.R, Tony. Glad both of you could make it here” He announced, shaking both our hands before returning to his seat. He motioned for his guards to leave the room. The office doors closing behind them. Tommy offered both of us drinks, we accepted. He walked over to a black cabinet that revealed an assortment of alcohols.
We sat around for most of the afternoon, drinking and smoking. Discussing important matters and just generally hanging out.
Tommy set his five or sixth glass of whisky onto the table; he took a deep breath and stared out his window. The sun was setting off in the horizon. I took another sip from my glass of cognac watching the CCV surveillance camera TV’s that were in the corner of the office.
Tommy returned his focus back to me and Tony; he grabbed his glass of whisky shooting the rest down his throat.
“I got a job for both of you” Tommy said
“What do you need taken care of?” Tony asked him, stretching out and setting his glass of alcohol onto his knee.
“About a month ago, I hired a few red necks to do me a favor. A real simple job, I asked them to knock off a corner store down in Little Haiti…” Tommy paused for a moment, taking another deep breath before continuing to explain. “These three f*cked up big time, Not only did they manage to get caught, but they mentioned my name. I don’t like it when the feds catch wind of my name let alone the business I do, if they testify in court against me this could cause big problems for me” He said, standing up from his seat.
“So you want us too take care these three birds?” I asked, taking another drink from my cognac. Looking back at Tommy, he grabbed the piece on his desk and handed it to Tony. I looked over at Tony who stared right back, we both nodded setting out drinks down on the desk.
“You can find them down at a bar in Little Havana, you may also know them Grady, Jeff and Ben. They used to work the night shift down at Sunshine Autos” Tommy explained.
“I know who you talking about” Tony replied, whipping his lips
“You two are the only ones I can trust lately, you two will for sure be taken care of.” Tommy said, walking around the desk
“Don’t worry about it Tommy, we got your back” I said, Tony and I shook hands with Tommy before turning and making our way out of the office and out to the XS.
We had known of the three f*ck ups Tommy had told us about, pure Florida trailer trash. They lived out near the Airport in some trailer park. They occasionally would get a drink down at a bar in Little Havana. I parked the car out back of the bar, Tony and I made sure we were both heated. Both of us walked into the bar, finding a small table to sit at by the pool tables. We scanned through the crowed we had caught a glimpse of Grady and Ben. I pointed them out to Tony, a waitress wearing a short skirt and a tank top walked over to the table.
“Hi I’m Tammy can I get you boys anything?” She asked her brown hair in pig tails.
“Two beers please Tammy” I ordered, she nodded and turned away walking through the crowed.
“We’ll keep an eye on them, maybe they’ll bring us to Jeff” I said, Tony nodded in approval. I scanned around the room once more before motioning to Tony that I was heading to the bathroom.
I entered the bathroom following behind someone; I found a vacant urinal and continued to carry on with my business. As I was washing my hands a man in a white suit looked something out of the 80’s came out of a stall, he looked at me. Completely strung out of his mind, I was drying my hands off on some paper towel.
“Psssst….Aye…” He whispered, I looked back at him. Putting the paper towel in the garbage, his hair was all messed up. His tie was all undone he looked completely f*cking delusional. But in his hands he clutched $100 bills.
“Yo man, you got some blow?” He whispered into my ear, I took one last look at him. I reached into my jean pockets. My eye on him closely, I pulled out a bag of white powder.
His eyes widened as he praised the coke that was in my hand.
“How much for the whole thing?!” He shouted, I looked at him once more. The coke was a $400 value; I thought I’d test him a little.
“$800” I shot back, he hesitated for one last moment. I was sure his last hit was about to ware off.
“You want it or not?” I said.
“I’ll take it!” He shouted placing his fistful of cash into my right hand. I quickly counted it, $800. All there.
I walked out of the bathroom and back towards the table Tony and I had. I pulled up my chair, taking a sip from my beer and looking around the bar.
“Jeff just came through” Tony said pointing over to three guys standing over by the bar taking shots. We watched them for a few minutes, the three decided after there shots that they would take a trip to the bathroom together. I looked over at Tony, who was holding onto the Desert Eagle at his waist
“We’ll take them now” I motioned downing the rest of my beer before standing up with Tony and making the journey back to the bathroom.
Luckily for me and Tony the three of them were the only ones in the bathroom. Or so we thought. We pushed the bathroom door open Desert Eagles drawn arms reach. The three were caught totally off guard; Tony popped Jeff and Ben in the head. Grady turned and looked me in the eye.
“Nothing personal…” I told Grady, who was nearly in tears begging for his life.
“Just business” I squeezed the trigger giving the white tile walls a new red look. The junkie walked out one of the bathroom stalls. Sniffing and rubbing his nose, he held the coke high up in one hand. He looked at the three dead bodies on the ground. His eyes wide, he didn’t seem to be afraid more tripped out then anything.
He looked at me, I nodded at him. Words trying to form on the end of his tongue.
“Let’s get the f*ck out of here” I said to Tony, who pulled the bathroom door open. We ran out and pushed a large steal door that as right across from the bathroom. The steal door was an exit to the back. We ran up to the XS, throwing our guns into the backseat.
I started up the engine, throwing the car into gear. Police sirens could be heard in the distance. I slammed on the gas, tearing up the ground under the car swerving around the corner and onto the streets of Vice City.
I had dropped Tony off at home, and had just made it through the front door of my apartment. I was greeted by Kemo, who laid a few steps from the front door. He was startled by my drunken entrance.
The entire apartment was dark; I quickly showered and changed into a pair of briefs. I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, that’s when I noticed Emilie still where I had left her. I looked down at Kemo, patting him on the head.
“Thanks for taking care of her buddy” I said, the large dog gave out a small grunt.
She was fast asleep on the couch. I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. I knew I had woken her up, but she tried to hide it by keeping her eyes closed. But the smile on her face was a dead give away. I set her down on one side of the bed climbing in behind her. The clock on the bedside table gave off a red glow in the darkness. I watched the time as I slowly fell asleep.
Posted 27 May 2008 - 07:15 AM
@mark-2007: Switched you around to the Vagos, can't wait to see what you have in store for them.
@Pr0xy_fl00d3r: Added you to the Bikers
@Vinnie Leone: I really enjoy your stories, keep it up. I'v also gone and added the Berreta M9 to the Leone arsenal.
$37 + $40 + $1963 = $2040
$2040 - $130 = $1910
Posted 27 May 2008 - 07:27 AM
Posted 27 May 2008 - 07:52 AM
Chapter 11 - For the Family
It had been an intense couple of days, and i could tell, in my mind, it was going to get uglier, i thought to myself after gettingout of bed on this cold, chilly morning. Getting into a bunch of clean Shirts and a pair of jeans i headed out to the car. The Triads had our back, Those Gangsters had our back, and yet, we are still between a rock and a boulder. I made sure my nine was in my pants and hoppen into the car. In the distance i heard a low grumbling of a plane and the sound of birds. I put the keys in the ignition and set off for The Triads betting shop. In no time at all i was there, and Woozie had some news for me.
"Connor, glad you came back," Woozie said, opening the door. "Please, have a seat."
"Thanks Woozie, if i can call you that," I said, sitting down. "What news we got?"
"Well, those boys, the mafioso you helped us get rid of," Woozie said, sitting opposite me, behind a table. "They were a bunch of Sindaccos."
"Sindaccos?" I asked. "Those c*nts."
"What, you dont watch the news?" Woozie asked me. "Its been all over it."
"Sh*t," I replied. "Well, what we do now?"
"You, and CJ, are going to go f*ck with them," He told me, getting up. "They are trying to set up in Fierro, i want them off the map."
"Okay," I said, looking at him. "What i do?"
"CJ is waiting at his garage," Woozie told me. "Meet him there."
"Okay Woozie," I said getting up, as he opened the door for me. "See you round."
"Im sure you will," He said.
I got in my car and headed for CJs garage, after seeing it last visit here, i was sure i knew where it was. Sure enough a couple of minutes later, i was parked outside of "Johnsons Garage". I got out and walked in.
"Yo CJ," I heard someone call out to him. "Someone for you, i think."
"Yeah?" CJ said, walking out of his little office. "Connor, my main f*cking man."
"Hey," I said, looking around. "Nice place you got here."
"Thanks man," He said walking with me outside. "So, uhh, Woozie sent you, right?"
"Yeah," I said. "Where these b*tches at?"
"Dude, you see that car dealership up the road," CJ said, pointing me to it. "Cats took it over, it was mine."
"Sh*t, how we taking them out?" I asked him.
"Well, you see behind here is this construction site, nothing has ever happened to itfor years now," He told me. "We are both gonna take a side each and snipe these b*tches out, just how you like it."
"Oh, f*ck yeah," I replied.
"okay, well the snipers are up there already," CJ told me. "Lets go, and your taking the side closest to the showroom."
I ran to my vantage point and found my Sniper Rifle. I laid myself down and took the scope to my eye. I had a clear view of the whole of the place. And those d*ckheads were sitting in there scratching themselves. I took aim and looked at CJ. He gave the all clear to shoot. I put my eye to the scope and lined up one of them. He was at the counter. I pulled the trigger and blood splattered all over the wall behind him, he slid down out of site. All the men immedietly stood up and took some cover. But i could still see them all, and they couldnt see me, it was all too easy. CJ took down another one near the door and he went tumbling through a glass window. I shot another and he tumbled down some stairs to the bottom level. CJ took down one who had come to the front door. Blood splattered everywhere. Another one came to there front door, and that was another one for CJ. Suddenly, sirens rang through the air. I ducked my head down and so did CJ. Cop cars pulled into the showroom parking lot. CJ pulled his head up and took aim, popping a cop right through the eye. Blood splattered onto the patrol car he had just got out of. The two cop cars pulled out of the lot and sped away. CJ took aim again and cars came flying out of the glass windows of the showroom and took off up the street. The place was deserted. We sprinted to CJ garage and he gave me some wheels.
"Get out of here," He told me.
And that i did. I sped back to Mount Chiliad and climbed up the hill back to the hut. Mike and Luigi greeted me and asked where i was all morning. I sat down and told them everything.
Sorry i havent written in awhile. And sorry if that was really poor, im hell tired.
Posted 27 May 2008 - 07:53 AM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 27 May 2008 - 01:33 PM.
Shooting_spree: $41 (by mark-2007, kinda unlucky posting a minute before this was )
VinnieLeone: please do not double post, edit your initial post instead. Especially since your first post was a pointless one saying "Never mind"
Posted 28 May 2008 - 06:51 AM
Posted 28 May 2008 - 05:00 PM Edited by Gantons Most Wanted, 28 May 2008 - 10:25 PM.
heres my first story as well.
Retaliation, Revenge & Get Back
"Hey I’m Jose Vialpando i was an Original Member of the Los Aztecas until things went through a period of change within the gang community in Los Santos. A few weeks after the Grove Street Families leader was locked up things in out Neighbourhood got uneasy. The Vagos took over our neighbourhood and most of us either left town or went into hiding, for the last few months I’ve been on a freighter that transports goods from LS to South America. In that time i have been waiting for the opportunity to get back to LS to get answers and get the bastards who sold us out, last week Cesar called me and told me to go back to LS as the time to get these answers is now, The boat arrives in the bay tomorrow morning and i'm ready to see what awaits me when i get off the boat..."
It is 5am the Sun is just rising it is a very calm atmosphere or is it just the calm before the storm?, The Freighter was very run down but that was due to the fact the company was going through money troubles. I go out onto the deck to enjoy the ever approaching view of Los Santos and its skyline, The Captain approaches "So Jose this is the last time you'll be on the boat then?".
" Yes Gault my brother contacted me a week ago, so its definitely the right time to return to find the people I’m looking for and to get the answers i need" .
" Well this ships not going anywhere for a few months due to the repair that need to be done so if you need a little extra cash, i can definitely put some work your way".
" Thank you if my situation improves and you need any work putting your way i'll do the same".
” Anyway i better get the Dingy ready so it can take you to the shore once where in the bay".
There was a good 30 minutes to kill so i went to get my stuff together. As took one last look at the dark confined space with its decaying walls made me glad i was getting off this ship, LS jail cells were in better condition and that’s saying something. My things belongings were packed and it was nearly time to hit the mainland as i was on my way to the ships bridge Frank the ships chopper pilot Frank was looking for the Captain to see if he could go ashore in order to get some fuel and parts for the Helicopter, it was an Armadillo Heli and it was a rarity to see them still flying since they hadn't been used since the Vietnam days. Frank came with me to the Dingy as that was the most likely place the captain would be at this time. Gault agreed to let Frank go ashore so i wasn't making this journey on my own.
It was time to go the Dingy was set, Me and Frank set off within 5 minutes we were at the dock. The Security guards seemed suspicous about why the Freighter didn't check in on the radio, Frank was explaining the situation to the security. There was a payphone across the street i walked over and made a call to Cesar to ask him to come pick me up. While i was on the phone i was observing the situation across the street when out of nowhere the dock security start beating the sh*t out of Frank i told Cesar to get down here quickly. There was a bottle by the payphone i picked it up and smashed it round one of the guards heads me and Frank overpowered the second one and took his Colt45 incase we ran into more trouble, We hid behind some boxes that were near by so we wouldn't get spotted by anybody. Cesars car pulls up we run over to the car and get in, Cesar wheelspins the car and we head home for the first time in alongtime.
Posted 28 May 2008 - 10:24 PM
Posted 28 May 2008 - 10:40 PM
Gantons Most Wanted
Added at Cesar's House
Varrio Los Aztecas
$33 + $100 = $133
Quite a nice intro you have there, good description. Try putting 'Frank says.' or 'I yell.' kinda things in after dialogue.
Also, I'm no expert at this but I think you changed tenses from present to past and back again.
|It is 5am the Sun is just rising it is a very calm atmosphere|
|The Security guards seemed suspicous about why the Freighter didn't check in on the radio|
You should stick to one unless you're having a flashback like you do here, this is fine:
|QUOTE (Fine if @ like this, it's a flashback)|
|A few weeks after the Grove Street Families leader was locked up things in out Neighbourhood got uneasy. The Vagos took over our neighbourhood and most of us either left town or went into hiding|
So yeah, a good intro but keep to one tense.
Added to Johnson House for GSF
rated and updated by mark-2007
Posted 28 May 2008 - 10:43 PM
Posted 29 May 2008 - 01:59 AM Edited by Wanted Assailant, 29 May 2008 - 10:22 PM.
“It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees. “
-Emiliano Zapata (1877- 1919)
Samantha Cassell. Paul Boyer.
12:36 PM; My pager vibrated in the back of my pocket. My hands on the steering wheel, I stop at a red light around the streets of the Red Light District and the edge of Chinatown. I grabbed and had read the pager’s message.
‘Gianni, you took out the Lockwood guy yet? Let us know...’, the small text were recited and read along.
The pager automatically left an automated message when I turned the machine off and had fit it back to place. The coast was clear to get the guns back to the hideout.
[i]‘ The Job is done. The family may now take the vacant artillery down at the Red Light District.’
I was heading towards Atlantic Quays, driving by various districts along the way. The Messina and the Palermo mafia were scheduled to have a weapon deal by 1:17, trading some drugs for some high-powered firearms. Moisture began to fall from the atmosphere during the strolling ride, the slick droplets of water straining the motor wheels of the mafia car. I drove cautiously, and peeled my eyes outside to the open world, past the constant rain-spilled windows.
I had tried to restrain and denounce the deep exhaustion inside of me, which was due largely to the lack of full rest. Somehow, I was kept on by the horrifying thirst of death being served.
I was designated to act on the murders by a dealing zone south on Atlantic Quays. Atlantic Quays was characterized by many industrial warehouses, lively factories and distribution. I’ve been picking up info lately and part of this place is characterized by the open sea along side it. There is a floorboard “bridge” connected to export any “waste” into the ocean, which made Portland a place not to swim around heavily.
The ocean here became a bit toxic and the mayor insisted to not go dwindle in the water.
Past Trenton, south of the district was Atlantic Quays. I was also said at the time to be meeting a Sindacco family member by the name of Monaco. 12:57 PM and I arrive at the opening scene of the industrial Atlantic Quays. The streets south were completely roamed and taken over by business trucks and facility cars. I drove in on the slope to the edge of warehouses. No significant sign or mark to tell you’ve reached the spot, making me wander around with wheels before stopping somewhere near the sidewalk. I stopped and exited the car after I’d believed to have found the vantage point. I glance a stepped out of the car, turning my head over around the surroundings that crowded me. I had stopped in between into large vacant openings with a few warehouses accompanying them. I grabbed the sniper rifle case from the trunk in order to take on the murders from afar. Street lights flickered and alighted the pit floors and streets.
West of me appeared a large space of vacancy, one warehouse to accompany it. A floor bridge was also made many feet away, the boards beginning to tremble and fall any minute as burly pieces of wood appear distort and terribly deformed. The vacancy looks to be a welcoming fleet for distributors to come by; But as there is neither a shield or coverage as many on-lookers will spot a deal, cops being worse as they’re able to find out about the illegal trade on night shifts.
Wide open it was, but soon I had confronted cones in front of me, protecting the inside of air-filled space. Beside the cones was a wall structure, blinding eyes to what happens behind them.
If seen from a bird’s eye description, the concrete walls formed a disfigured “L”, shielding anything invading from the outside. Eastward and close, was an align of several warehouses, ending at the far east end finally. The padded case in my hand shackled as a man stepped out into existence, tense had quickly built up on hearing. My head turned into the fading of a man apparently walking up to me. He made sufficient sounds as his shoes clamp and scoffed dust at each step he took. The man swagged his arms as he stepped 6 feet away from me. I led my eyes to the cold figure with severe attention, his probability and guessing I was the man ordered here.
“You Gianni?”, the shadowy figure said in a mildly loud tone.
Don’t take too many choices Agosto. It was never right for a contract killer to openly progress how they murdered contracts, concerning the disposition that the person may be a undercover police officer or detective. I kept my cool and gave a stern expression at the man. It was mildly dark, the man seeing my face wasn’t a caution.
“You’re Monaco I presume? Vitorre...?”, I spat the question back in a low calm manner, having a good glance of the man a feet in front of me. I had raised my eyebrow to question the procedures and predict of the next happenings.
The man gave a mean look as he attempted a raise of an eyebrow. He had a mild grown mustache with a beard underneath the mouth and chin. From my view the first clothing that stood out was a short-sleeved turquoise shirt of an Hawaiian fashion; palm trees were designed many times on the fabric. The shirt was opened but it didn’t seem to obtain buttons; as I had seen a black sweater under the Hawaiian shirt and was most likely viewed under it. The long sleeves met outside and were rolled up apparently. The man had wore fingerless leather gloves, pair of gray jeans and normally seen shoes. Short dark hair covered his scalp. Had looked to be in the appearance of a buzz cut.
The man chuckled slightly to himself with his face still attached to himself. He changed his attention back to me again, possibly finally speaking after all of this. He took a glance at the padded case I had in my left hand. Soon after,
“Enough of the talks, just take the keys to one of those warehouses over there and wait for the mafia to come. You do a good job and I’ll tell the boss about it. Just go.”, he directed and pointed to one of the dusty warehouses next to us, shackling his keys as he does this.
With concentration I caught a good glimpse of what he had pointed towards to. He quickly threw the shackling keys without disruption or telling beforehand. I hesitated before I had caught the keys; While Monaco drifts off in the shadows once again. I had predicted he was going to examine the scene to see if I was truly good to the Sindaccos. I protected my face with a severe and morbid state, the mask did not dare break. A grimily expression spawned upon my face ever since I had left the car.
I shackled the keys, entering them into the doors of a warehouse; the gloomy and damp air exit my mouth in the horrid night. I had entered the dark and grim warehouse, stepping into a large section. The lights were off, with only a bit of them still alive from the global power. Abandon in the heart, but the standing had made it still working in progress. The place was quiet, with nothing but the sounds of the Lenneths shoes as I had taken a step in a decisive manner. Minutes later I appeared to be upon the roof, strolling my way on top from the descended stairs I had came from. Unstable, unlike the other roofs on apartments. The roof was smooth and enough to just slide off of it. I had to create balance, but it wasn’t as if the building top was clearly a ‘sphere of falling’. It was a normal roof of course.
1:12 PM; I laid the Rifle case onto the floor, crouched and had begun to assemble the gun into corrective space. A bag left in the brown leather jacket of mines is what I had pulled a second later. Five minutes to spare before the two accommodating mafia were to collect trades. Lights on the streets helped my view, the lens scope made into the sniper rifle would of greatly helped without it. I finally leaned to the floor, to have a better position when taking the precious hit. I waited for the cars to approach...
My eyelids flutter, a few minutes pass by but I already taste the buds of boredom. My arms were reached out on the sniper rifle had begun to tire. Then again. The silent night rapidly and unexpectedly transformed into boisterous noise, engines and contraptions began to horribly rumble through the streets. I had heard the sounds of cars caving on the Atlantic Quays location.
I fastened to position.
I quickly panicked to the fact I had left the Sindacco car out in the open, the two mafia gangs becoming suspicious once they had saw the vehicle. A second I peered my eyes around I found the car to be disappeared once from the sidewalk. Must of been Monaco, either way I had came back to the attention to the many cars driving in. I had laid on the warehouse right next to the large space that was protected by walls. It seemed the mafia really had decided to take the deal on much more large vacancy. Perennials and Blistas had slowly crowded the area, the rumbling had only begun to slow down. Seconds pass before the car engines finally stopped. I had to be careful this time, as I was afar from the real dealing location and had to have quick and good precision. I placed the advanced Sniper Rifle in position, shutting one of my eyes while the other stays in place into the scope.
Men had climbed out of the parked cars, gleaming in suits and walking formally. Many struts
and conversation were aroused over the seconds. Men in black and dark blue suits appeared on opposing sides, a better way of identifying gangs. Except no sign of Travis Goodman, or so I had thought. Mafia members had lined up behind their according gangs, while the mafia leader had stood in front of theirs, facing the opposed leader. Their arms crossed, the Dons greeted to hands as mafia members pulled out suitcases from the trunks of cars. They ran to their Dons with the suitcases, the head bosses had opened it up in formal manners.
Finally, a man had appeared in front of the bosses of different crime organizations, in a cheerful and welcoming manner. He shook the hands of both bosses, welcoming them to a peaceful and organized dealing authorized by himself, Travis Goodman. Goodman had wore a pair of dark sunglasses, his scalp and the top of his head worn with nothing but baldness, and a clean-cut five o’ clock shadow as his beard. He smiled and chuckled lightly after the hands were shook. His clothes were dark and pretty large, but from this point I had only made out the fact it was an assembled sort of mixed clothes probably of hood and pants. Something of the dealer category.
Travis was the only without a formal dressing, and stuck out pretty good to become a target. I leaned over to his skull with the zoom caps on. I figured that the Messina were in dark blue, the Palermos having more of the respect in the black suits. I decided to take out a possible member of either gang, noticing a driver in a Perennial in place of the Palermo Mafia. The Palermo had a hold of the drugs, money from the Messina. Travis had obtained the weapons from his truck. I couldn’t make out the future of the deal as it would of end abruptly.
I shied my hands away before being tempted to squeeze the trigger. A bullet pierced into the shrieking air, my precision had the bullet laid into the eye of a man. That man once had a fake but cheerful expression on his face, hoping the deal would go great. His face had a depressing expression now, as a bullet was forcefully lodged into his right eye, easily shattering the dark sunglasses above it. Travis flew and slumped against a hard wall not so far away. He wailed as he clutched the lost eye with both his hands. He began to bleed out of force, leaking out onto his clenched hands and onto his clothes and soon to the ground. He cries and sobbed for seconds on the ground, a pool of blood had soon appeared. He twitches all out on the surface. The two gangs had noticed this in a instance, outrage at what just happened. I quickly leaned my Rifle to one of the Messina gang members, spotting a quick of in the far back. The place was scattered with angry mafiosos, pulling out their pistols and randomly shooting. The Dons of course brought safely back. Yells and shouts were being thrown around the Atlantic Quays dealing location, just before some else had happened. During the fuss, another bullet had broken into the cranium of one of the Messina Mafia. He was angered with a steamed face before a bullet had calmed him down to his last drop to the ground. Blood poured out onto the concrete ground. The Messinas were more filled with rage than ever, surprised at the corpse of one of their fellow guys. Apparently they thought one of the Palermos had did this, and squeezed triggers even more.
I went back to the driver in the Perennial, and slowly aimed for him through the glass. I squeezed, a swift piece of metal ejected out of the barrel collided with car glass window before shattering it to pieces. The man was surprised on his own and was startled, hurrying his Palermo buddies to come back in the convoy cars. He failed his arms at them, before another bullet lodged into the right side of his chest. The Palermos saw the man dead right before their eyes, even noticing glass shot through the side. Pure blood slowly dripped out of the dead man’s chest. During the small petty war I even picked up someone saying “sniper”, converting me to hide and shield my rifle back into the case.
3 men dead. Travis died minutes later after the bullet lodged in his eye, which had soon traveled through the brain. A dead Messina out on the floor with his gun next to him. The Palermo in the car was brought into the trunk. The rising war settled down and soon died with both gangs scurrying away in their cars furious. The truckload of guns was left there. I sighed as my head swayed down. I placed the rifle back into the padded case and exited the warehouse.
The night, silent as a dead rat; I had brung myself to the sidewalk, just waiting for the Argentino to drive by to pick me up. A few seconds later a engine is heard as I sight the Argentino coming in my way. A figure is riding the car I brought here, who was someone I could of guessed.
The car parked in front of me, seeing the driver inside.
“Hey, nice job thee Gianni. I’ll be sure to tell Vitorre about that fantastic hit right there. You’ve brought the firearms to the Sindaccos. Should really rename ‘Atlantic Quays’ to ‘Lodged Bullet District’. See ya’ ”, the man quickly interprets as he drives away into the car. He had already called up the mafia to pick up the guns, so I waited a few minutes before I left out on my own...
I would like to have the Benelli M4 Super 90 as my special 10th story.
I would also like to buy the Ingram Mac-10 please.
Posted 29 May 2008 - 08:44 AM
Posted 29 May 2008 - 12:53 PM
Chapter 2: Smackdown
It was nearly 9am we were entering El Corona as continued to drive towards his house i observed the surroundings which i once called home and saw the damage was done. Crackheads passed out on the street high on crack, others robbing people to get money for their next fix and groups of Vago's hanging round the bar near the railway tracks. Cesar pulled up the driveway to his house the back door was open.. Cesar looked very worried as he didn't have his gun with him and Frank was just wondering what the hell was going on, I pulled out the Colt 45 i took from one of the Dock security early that morning after the fight. I told Cesar to wait out here with Frank while i scope out the house as i entered the kitchen through the door i looked into the living room there was a crackhead i put the gun to his head and told him "Don't move" . I shouted Cesar and Frank to come inside and restrain him, Cesar asked me "Where did you get the gun?" . Frank cut in before i could say anything he said "Its a long story but once this situations resolved i'll be glad to tell you" . We moved the crackhead to the garage and tied him to the chair until he decided he wanted to start giving answers to why he was in my Brothers house, then it hit me if we left him for an hour he would start going cold turkey and will start talking.
In the meantime we got some breakfast and Cesar told me about the situation while i was away and told me about his business ventures in San Fierro with Kendls brother. He told me that 3 other members of our gang Hazer, Sunny and Gal had come out of hiding when the word on the street was Cesar had come back to town with CJ. We went to go check on the basehead we had in the garage it needed his fix so he started to say who his dealer was, I told Cesar to go take Frank to the airport to get the parts for the Armadillo. We let the crackhead go, Cesar and Frank set off and i followed the Crackhead to a garage down the alleyway near Cesars, there are 3 Vago's talking about what happened to Big Poppa last night and that if someone doesn't step up to the role then the Front Yard Ballas will make a take for El Corona and Little Mexico. I snuck past them into the garage where the dealer was counting his money and there was alot heroin on the table along with his gun, i pistol whipped him with my Colt 45 he fell over and dropped his money.
The Dealer yells "Yo, what the f*ck you doing!?"
I replied "I'm taking your drugs and the money you made destroying the community"
The Dealer tries to reach for his gun but i kick it away.
I told him "Nice try, Anyway you have information that i want who supplies you and where will they be at this moment?"
The Dealer replies "My boss is over at the petrol station by the Alahambra nightclub in Idlewood, Good luck though hes a Front Yard Ballas OG and hes not gonna be on his own"
"If your working for the Vago's how come your boss is a ballas OG??"
"Because since Big Poppa got murdered in his mansion theres nobody else to supply us and its either do this or the turf gets taken over this way seems best until we sort the situation"
"Well your situation isn't gonna improve because your going to leave this neighbourhood right now and you better get the messege out to the other dealers in this hood as well because i will gun down every last one of you to prove a point"
The Dealer pauses for a moment to consider his options.
"Ok ese i'll get me and my boys out of this hood but any still in your hood isn't my responsibility."
"You've got until i get back from Idlewood, So hurry up and get your stuff together"
There was a phone so i called a cab to take me to the Petrol Station. It arrived 10 minutes later.
I gave the cabbie $5 for the taxi and walked across the street to the store at the petrol station. While walking over i scoped out the area to see where all the ballas were at and to see if this OG was around, i went into the store to purchase some skittles, a ballas car pulls up 2 of them get out while one stays by the car. The 2 head towards the back of the garage where the car wash is so i follow them to see where they go i hide behind a parked up Broadway to avoid detection by them, then two african american men walk out from the carwash one is wearing a purple baseball cap and a purple jacket he's around medium build. The other one is very skinny he is wearing a dark yellow shirt and jeans, he definitely has to be a crackhead. The one in the baseball cap hands the man a large wad of cash for a package the 2 ballas then head back to there car while the other 2 head back to the carwash, as they approach i pull out my gun and shoot one in the head and then i rush the other one as he was unarmed. The other ballas member stood by his car runs over to see whats happened i ran toward the carwash and head inside hidden behind a box of sprunk, the crackhead is getting his fix hes outside getting high while the other man is on the phone to some i listen to the conversation to try figure out whats going on.
"Yo Dup, what are you gonna do about Bear hes asking too many questions and hes getting high off my supply man. Hes a f*cking liability!"
a sudden pause.
"I don't give a f*ck if he makes that toilet sparkle, but what i do care about is you getting cut off by certain suppliers this sh*t doesn't grow on trees and Bear smoking it all isn't gonna help matters"
"Ok Dup i'm glad you see sense i'll be in touch once i tie up this loose end, I'll be back at the spot about 6pm"
I throw over the boxes and create a distraction the man looks shocked i pull out my gun and shoot him in his leg so he can't run off. The man shouts in pain.
"What the f*ck was that for you stupid vato motherf*cker!"
"That my friend is for f*cking up the neighbourhoods with crack!"
"Who sent you?!? i bet it was that motherf*cker from East LS"
"You Couldn't be more wrong if you tried pendejo. I'm from the Southside anyway who was it from our gang who sold us all out i don't care if i have to shoot you in your other leg, your gonna tell me!"
"All i know is you need to check your own hood for that info! I just work for B Dup and make sure this sh*t gets sold"
"Well your gonna answer me this are the Front Yard Ballas OG running sh*t here??
"Yeah i am the names Heffy i've worked for Dup a few months now"
"Well Heffy your gonna go back to Glen Park and give your boss this messege, stay the f*ck off Aztecas turf i see one glimpse of one of your dealers out here i'll go up to your house and burn it down if i have to!. We Clear on that?."
The crackhead pushes me over and i drop my gun, Heffy grabs the gun and aims it at me and the crackhead.
"Sorry Bear its nothing personal you just smoke all of our stash and your costing us more money than your worth"
A gun goes off but it wasn't Heffy's...
"Yo Heffy your out of business now and we'll be taking bear off your hands so put the f*cking gun down!"
It was CJ Cesars friend who like his brother Sweet is an OG member of The Orange Grove Families.
"Your CJ right?"
"Yeah i am, good job me and Sweet got here when we did anyway what you wanna do with this asshole?"
"Let him go back to Glen Park he can get the messege to his boss that your on your way, I'd take your friend there to rehab he needs it and if our gangs are going to take back whats ours we need all the help we can get."
"You hear that Heffy your gonna go tell Dup where coming so he better be ready."
"pfft you think a mexican, a crackhead, a prison bitch and a buster can take out Dup. Nigga f*ck you!."
"If you aren't out of my sight within the next 10 seconds Heffy i'm gonna put a hole in your head"
"I'm sorry i can't do much to help you guys at this point in time. But in time once our hoods back on its feet and you need anything just call me since i'm taking Heffys Cellphone which might help me find the people i'm looking for."
"Its cool, look you and Cesar go concentrate on things in your hood for a while because it'd be unfair for us to ask you to help us with ours while yours gets worst. I'll be in touch"
I took Heffy's cellphone and me CJ, Sweet and Bear went our seperate ways.
It was 4pm so i headed back to Cesars to go get some rest after my first day back in town. I was shocked how the Grove had our back maybe gang unity can exsist in this town, if the Ballas and Vago's can team up why can't we?.
Posted 29 May 2008 - 01:59 PM
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