BUYG: Build Up Your Gang
Posted 29 May 2008 - 02:04 PM
Posted 29 May 2008 - 02:04 PM
Posted 29 May 2008 - 02:20 PM
$135 + $43 = $178
Ingram Mac 10 ($155)
$178 - $155 = $23
Benelli Super 90 for free
Gantons Most Wanted
Varrio Los Aztecas
$133 + $36 = $169
Switched back to Leones
It's fairly easy once you get a few chapters under your belt and go from there, just pick a gang and ask to join if you want
Keep it coming everyone
rated and updated by mark-2007
Posted 29 May 2008 - 02:24 PM
Posted 29 May 2008 - 04:07 PM
Protonkid - You just pick a gang and write about them, it can be any time period (although obviously the far past, 50s and before, and the far future, after 2010/15). Really any time period within the current GTA games (apart from II).
Posted 29 May 2008 - 06:05 PM
Chapter 3: The Sunday Driver
It was Sunday morning 8AM i woke up feeling refreshed from the events that happened yesterday. I entered the living room Frank and Cesar were talking about there current situations and dilemma’s.
Cesar says " Morning ese, You have a good rest?"
" Yeah it was alright, did you and Frank get the parts sorted for the Armadillo?"
Frank said " Not for another week or so, they need to get the parts imported from some place in VC"
" Well it happens Frank, Its like that time me and Cesar were fixing up my Remington a few years back."
" Speaking of car problems, i can't taxi you 2 dudes everywhere i'm busy today."
" Well what happened to my Remington Cesar?, you were around a week after i skipped town so you must of kept it somewhere safe."
" Its stored down at the Docklands at a warehouse, Ask for Hector and tell him i sent you. Then he'll give you the car."
" Thanks Cesar is it too much to ask for a ride down there?? i spent my last $10 on a taxi yesterday."
" Yeah but this is the last time for a while Jose."
Me and Frank got into Cesar’s Savanna and then he set off for the docklands.
" Hey Cesar does this Hector guy know anything about boats?, because everything on board needs repairing in some aspect."
" Yeah he does, he's not had much work for a while so the chances of him saying no are pretty low"
" Frank once we go see Hector i'll drop you off at the dock so you can go check in with the Freighter, Gaults probably wondering where you've been"
"Definitely plus i can get the chopper prepped for the repairs that need to be done"
"Ok guy where here."
We all got out of the car and approached the warehouse, it was very similar to the ones located in the LS National Guard compound further down the docks. A middle aged Mexican man in overalls with a beard approaches us.
" Cesar is that you?"
" Hector!, How've you been and is business still going slow?"
" Yes unfortunately, anyway what brings you down here anyway?"
" Well I’m here about the car i left with you a few months back it was a Remington dark blue paintjob, your typical lowrider."
" Yeah its still here, I’ll go get the keys out of the office for you"
Hector heads inside the warehouse to get the keys to my Remington.
" Ok there you go Cesar."
" Thank you Holmes, oh yeah before i forget my buddy Frank here came on a Freighter with Jose yesterday it needs some major work doing to it and i was wondering if you could go take a look and help them out.
" Sure Cesar, we can't go today as there’s a few smaller boats that our customers need fixing up, it should only take today to get them fixed up."
" Is that ok Frank?"
" Yeah, I’ll tell Gault when i get aboard."
" Ok lets go Frank, Cya back at home Cesar and nice to meet you Hector and thanks for keeping my ride in good shape."
" No problem my friend"
Cesar goes into the warehouse to talk to Hector, while me and Frank head out to where the dingy is docked.
"So how long do you think it'll be before the chopper is up and running again?"
" Well if the parts work correctly, not very long"
" With the way the company Gaults involved in i don't think he'll be in a job much longer."
" Why are things really that bad?"
" Well the Libertine Lines company has the worst safety record, There’s like 3 sunken ships around the coasts of Vice City. So how long before ours sinks?."
" I see what you mean."
We'd arrived at the dock, Me and Frank got out of the car. there were still shards of broken glass on the floor and bloodstains from the fight yesterday. we walked down the stairs to the dock the Dingy was still there.
" okay Jose I’ll call you once the parts are due to arrive"
" Okay Frank take care dude"
Now Frank was heading back to the boat i thought i would go scope out the Lowrider meet at Unity Station. As i drove to the Lowrider meet in my Remington i was starting to appreciate things a little more things may not be the same as before but things change and its gonna happen soon enough..
Edited by Gantons Most Wanted, 29 May 2008 - 06:11 PM.
Posted 29 May 2008 - 10:18 PM
|QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ May 29 2008, 14:20)|
| Hi, nice to see some more people round here,|
$135 + $43 = $178
Ingram Mac 10 ($155)
$178 - $155 = $23
Benelli Super 90 for free
You also forgot the 100$ bonus for every 5th story.
And Protonkid, it's all easy once you get the hang of it, but it's only a pain in the first few to get things started.
Posted 29 May 2008 - 10:45 PM
|QUOTE (Wanted Assailant @ May 29 2008, 23:18)|
You also forgot the 100$ bonus for every 5th story.
And Protonkid, it's all easy once you get the hang of it, but it's only a pain in the first few to get things started.
Oh yah! I forgot. I'll give you it now...
Gantons Most Wanted
Varrio Los Aztecas
$169 + $31 = $200
I've noticed you have different colours for each person speaking - it's probably quicker for you, and easier for us, if you just put "Cesar said." or "Frank whispered." after their dialogue rather than colouring it. You also switch tenses a bit still and some of your punctuation is off. All corrected, it should look something like this...
|It was Sunday morning, 8AM. I woke up feeling refreshed from the events that happened yesterday. I entered the living room Frank and Cesar were talking about there current situations and dilemmas. |
"Morning ese, You have a good rest?" asked Cesar as he looked up.
"Yeah it was alright," I replied. "Did you and Frank get the parts sorted for the Armadillo?"
"Not for another week or so," he told me. "They need to get the parts imported from some place in VC"
You should also add a bit more description, your chapters are largely dialogue and it's like reading a script with so little to divide the lines. More description = more money
$23 + $100 = $123
Keep the writing coming, folks
rated and updated by mark-2007
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 29 May 2008 - 10:47 PM.
Posted 30 May 2008 - 04:53 AM
Posted 30 May 2008 - 05:24 AM
Chapter 11 - Salvatores Word
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. I opened my eyes and sun light flooded my eyes. I was blind from the sudden light and had to shield my eyes. Bzzz. Bzzz. I sat up and looked around. Bzzz. Bzzz.
"What the f*ck is that?" I whispered to myself, looking around.
Bzzz. Bzzz. It continued. I looked at my window and a fly was struggling on it. Bzzz. Bzzz.
"Aha, f*cker, you are dead," I told the fly, almost as if it knew what the hell i was saying.
Lining my sock up at it, I launched it and got the little pest. It crumpled up in a heap on the floor. I walked out of my room and walked into the TV room. I flicked it on and the news was on. It was about the Sindaccos we had taken out yesterday. I decided to switch it off, not wanting to relive all of that bullsh*t.
I got up and walked over to the bench where Mikes phone lay. The screen read : Salvatore. I answeredand burst into speech.
"Sal, whats up man," I Blurted out. "How are things man?"
"Connor, is that you?" I heard him ask. "You sound well."
"Yeah it is," I Replied. "Why you calling?"
"I have some information," He told me. "And im glad you answered."
"okay, well shoot," I told him, listening intently.
"Look, heres the deal, Marco, i know where he is," Sal said. "Those f*cks, the Sindaccos are holding him."
"Where?" I asked, standing up.
"In Las Santos, The sindaccos, and the ballas are becoming very, very friendly," He told me. "Now, what you will have to do is, go alone, dont tell Mike or Luigi what you are doin', and kid, he is in the heart of Ballas territory."
"Okay? Where in the f*ck do i go, Sal?" I asked him, walking into my room.
"Its a place in Ganton, a small little hideout near some train tracks," He said. "Alright, i got to go, be safe Connor."
He hung up and i was out the door. I turned the car on and launched down the trail. I sped into Las Santos in a matter of minutes. I got into Ganton and followed train tracks, until i saw little opening leading into a deserted part of the tracks heading into the side of a mountain. I pulled up out side a few metres away and got out my MP5. I took cover at the entrance and peered around the corner. Two guards were standing outside of a small room in the side of the tracks, almost like a fire escape. I aimed carefully and shot. I took one down, a head shot, his blood now painted the wall a blood red and it trickled down. The other guard took cover behind a barricade. I peered around just as he shot. Bullets skimmed past my head, narrowly missing me. I drew back around the wall and reloaded. Peering around again, I waited for him to peer over. He did and i shot, killing him. I ran to the door and kicked it open. I peered around the corner and looked in. A flight of stairs were going up so i followed them. Stopping and listening a couple of times. I got to the top and two more guards were standing outside of another door. I shot at both of there legs and they both crumpled down into heaps. I shot them both in the head and threw there bodies down the stairs. A trail of blood was all they left behind as I kicked in the next door. Inside was a small, dusty room, which was lit by a lamp. I walked in and closed the door. There was a chair in the middle of the room, with someone sitting on it, with there hands tied, and a bag over there head. I walked over and pulled the bag off. It was Marco.
"Holy f*ck, Marco man," I said, joyously as i untied his hands.
"Connor, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, man im sorry, i, i let them burn down the hut, man im sorry," Marco stammered, standing up.
"Dude, calm down, no ones blaming you, look we have gotta get you back," I said. "Can you walk out?"
"Yeah, hell i could shoot out aswell," He said.
"Thats good," I said, handing him my nine. "Keep me covered."
I walked out and peered down the stairs. Two more guards were examining the bodies of the two that I had killed before hand.
"There he is," One of the yelled, looking up at me.
"F*ck," I said to myself and shot at them.
I got one it the chest and the other one escaped rolling out the door. The one i had shot wasnt moving, so i presumed he was dead. Marco on the other hand had to make sure, after busting around 10 rounds into the guys skull. I edged out the door and looked around the corner to the exit. Three cars were blocking the exit with around 10 men behind them. I could here them talking and one of them jumped over a car coming to the door. I held my breath and waited for him. He came around the corner to where i was and i shot at him. Right between the eyes i got him and blood spat everywhere. All over my face, clothes, gun, the wall, everywhere as he fell back on the ground.
"Oh sh*t," I heard one of them yell. "Jerry!"
I peered around and was shot at. They had to have AK-47s because those bullets had taken away some of the wall. I fired blindly and all i heard was the clunk of bullets hitting the cars. I peered around again and shot as quickly as i could at one of them. I got him and he fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach. Marco came out of the door and took cover with me.
"What are we up against?" He asked me.
"AKs, most probably, and there is about 10 of them," I told him, shooting blindly once more.
"Okay," Marco said, eyeing the barricade in which one of the guards lay dead. "im gonna take cover behind that."
"If your sure," I said to him.
"Oh im sure," He said, as i heard footsteps approaching, i shot blindly and heard a man groan.
"F*CK, STEVE YOU OKAY?!!" I Heard one of them scream.
"Lets get out of here," One of them yelled.
"Agreed, come on men," Another said, climbing into a car and starting it.
The other two cars turned on also and they launched out of there. I ran as quick as i could to the side of the exit and peered around. I shot at the cars and hit one of the drivers. The car span out of control straight into a bunch of coal. I ran to my car and Marco got it. I reversed and did a perfect 180 to get us out of there. On the drive home Marco and I chatted about what had happened to him, and what I had been up to. I was glad to have Marco back on the team again, plus we have now probably made the Ballas and Sindaccos really f*cked off. I wonder when we will actually start taking this place over, all we have been doing is killing people. Oh well, im sure Sal will have it all worked out.
Posted 30 May 2008 - 10:37 AM
Chapter 1: "Haitian Brawl"
The gang was slowly regaining its composure. A new shipment of weapons from our friends in Liberty arrived; this time, it was six large crates of axes. The axes were distributed within the gang, and a select group of Bikers, including me, were taught to throw and swing axes as we rode our Freeways. "Drive-by axe", Mitch Baker called it.
We didn't want to alert the other gangs of our new weapons' acquisition, so we kept them hidden out of sight as we mingled on the streets. The Haitians and Sharks didn't suspect a thing, and one week after the axes' were shipped, we were given the chance to put them to good use.
It was a Friday afternoon, and sun had fallen on Vice City. A total of five of us Bikers had rode to the Ryton Aide Pharmacy down in Little Haiti to buy some drugs. After a small conversation with the receptionist, he handed over two little packs of white powder, while we handed him banknotes in return. We were just about to leave the store when blue-shirted Haitians walked in. They were into the drug business as well, and they certainly hadn't expected us here. Even more, they hadn't expected anyone brandishing shiny sharp-edge axes.
Cougar hurled an axe, hitting a Haitian guy square in the balls. The guy collapsed, writhing in pain. Thinking that we had the upper hand, we charged the Haitians out of the store, and started attacking them with our axes. However, they also had a hidden trick up their sleeves: One by one, the Haitians pulled out stun guns, nightsticks, switchblades, handcuffs, and even a Molotov cocktail. We were taken aback by this sudden turning of the tables, and before long, the Haitians were all over us. Being the most experienced of the group, I began shouting orders.
"Cougar, go get the cocaine from the pharmacy! Axeshaft, go prepare the bikes! The rest of us, fight!"
We gave it all we could. Axes were thrown and swung, while the Haitians retaliated with their weapons. One of us was knocked to the floor with a stun gun, while another one of us got cuffed to his leg and stabbed. When we finally realized that we stood no chance, we got on the parked bikes and zoomed off, cocaine in hand, and Haitians chanting and yelling in our direction.
I would like 2 grams of cocaine please. Also, I'd like to buy Molotovs.
Posted 30 May 2008 - 11:05 AM
|QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ May 29 2008, 19:07)|
| Flesh-n-Bone - switched, I'm looking forward to the new direction |
Protonkid - You just pick a gang and write about them, it can be any time period (although obviously the far past, 50s and before, and the far future, after 2010/15). Really any time period within the current GTA games (apart from II).
Began already. Vercetti, Prawn island please.
Posted 30 May 2008 - 02:59 PM
Also, 20 stories are needed to unlock the second gang car, I have 25 from my Leone brand but since I joined Vagos, does that mean I can unlock the Oceanic now?
Posted 30 May 2008 - 09:10 PM
Chapter 4: 3 Arms are better than 1
4 hours had passed since I’d dropped Frank off to go check in at the Freighter. I'd just left the docklands and i now was in Willowfield, it was a very rundown Neighbourhood on the Southside of LS. This was the home to one of the 4 major Ballas sets in town and they are the Kilo Tray Ballas who are very much in control of the majority of gang turf in South Central, the Aztecas have never had any encounters with this gang before but that is probably a good thing due to the sheer size and control they seem to maintain in this town. The road heading towards Ganton was barricaded by LSPD, to avoid any trouble i turned left and headed across the tracks to get toward El Corona as i entered Idlewood the traffic seemed to of calmed down and made getting to the Lowrider meet much easier. The Sun was in the middle of the sky and its heat raged furiously down on the city, it was like a burger getting cooked on the BBQ. after the 15 minute drive through Willowfield and Idlewood i was finally here.
I pulled into the station courtyard the atmosphere was energetic, i took a good look at everything that was taking place people competing in there Lowriders for money, others cheering the competitors and others just chilling out and drinking beer. Everyone looked like a weight was lifted up off there shoulders, it shows that even though the gang and neighbourhoods current situation wasn't so great it proved people can still be in a difficult situation and still be able to enjoy themselves.
After an hour Cesar arrived with Hazer, they both looked worried about something.
" Cesar what’s wrong?"
Cesar quietly replied " The Vago's jumped one of our boys this morning"
" What the f*ck?, Is he alright?!" I was shocked they retaliated so quickly.
" They beat him pretty bad, he'll be in the hospital for a few days" Cesar replied.
" Hazer, go over to the hospital and make sure nobody tries to murder him while hes in hospital ok?"
" Ok, Jose I’ll head up there now." Hazer ran to his Broadway, he started the engine and hastily drove off to the Jefferson Infirmary.
Then a white Oceanic pulled into the courtyard. It was dirty and was in need of a new paintjob, then 3 men got out of the car they were wearing the Vago's trademark bandana's. 2 of the 3 were wielding Baseball bats and the 3rd was carrying a 9mm Pistol, the group of people who were stood with Cesar fell silent. The tension was building and i was thinking on how to handle this without endangering anymore of our communities lives.
One of the Vago's starts to address me and Cesar
" You vato's haven't paid protection this week, the boss isn't happy and we might have to start proving a point"
" f*ck you Pendejo, a pile of dog sh*t could do a better job and what protection?"
" My boss runs this turf asshole, either pay up or i'll start putting holes in you ese's."
Cesar starts yelling at the 3 Vago's, Meanwhile in the background one of our OG's Sunny had just popped the trunk of his Blade. In which contained his baseball bat, the Vago's started getting pissed off with the group of us and the one in charge is about to cock his gun. Then Sunny with one swift stroke smashes him in the head with the bat, Cesar runs for the gang member on the left and gets him in a headlock he drops his bat. I start to address them.
" It looks like your the one's who need our protection!."
" This time I’m letting you 3 go but if you try start any bullsh*t here or anywhere else, i'll be forced to step in."
The Vago's are disarmed and run back to the Oceanic. One shouts to the group
" Motherf*ckers!!, you've not heard the last from us i guarantee you that!."
There car reverses out of the courtyard and onto the road, The sound of the tyres screeching can be heard.
" Cesar we are going to need a lot of guns right now!" In a raised voice.
" Go to Emmet’s, he could hook us up."
" Cesar we can't keep running to Grove Street when everything goes wrong we need our own situation with our own suppliers."
" Ok there’s another possible hook up, he'll most likely be down at the bar by the train tracks. Ask for Phil he's not hard to miss."
" Thank you brother, look make sure everyone gets back to the hood safely and make sure everyone stay vigilante."
I run over to my Remington and enter it, I start the engine and set off for the bar down by the tracks. It was only a 5 minute drive away from the meet due to the traffic had calmed down, it was already 1:30pm it amazed me how so much bullsh*t could occur within 30 minutes. I pulled up to the bar it had a Los Aztecas tag on the wall outside it and a sign in Cyan coloured letters saying Bar, as i entered the bar it was the same old place i remember it had the same dark red coloured walls inside but they were covered in dirt. It looked like the place had gone through a rough patch over the past few months, There were still old bottles on the table that looked to have been there for a few days. The man at the bar who had dark coloured hair and was wearing a uniform much like those you find in the casino's in Venturas, the bar was dead there were only 3 people present including the bartender. I inquired with him if a man named Phil came in here, the bartender nodded and pointed me to the table where he was sat.
I walked over to the table and asked. " Are you Phil?"
The man was wearing a black shirt with the General Lee logo, he was wearing woodland cameo trousers with black boots. His hair was short similar to a jar head but had grown, he had a blondish coloured beard. The man had a very big build and a southern accent.
The man replies to my question in a low tone of voice " Why who's asking?"
" Jose Vialpando that’s who, i believe you've done business with my brother in the past. Well he suggested your the man to go to about guns."
Phil's facial expression changed from a blank one to a very sly smile.
" You bet your ass I’m the man to go too, i can go get you some guns right now but someone from them northside mexican fellers is saying i owe him money, and i'm sort of at a disadvantage as you can see i only have one arm."
" Ok I guess 3 arms are better than one dude."
" Funny. Anyway lets go, you know the deal if they pay me a visit and i call you you've got to show up and help me out."
" Agreed, lets go so where are we headed?."
We exited the bar and walked toward the Remington. I asked Phil where his place was and he explained that he had two places one stash at his trailer park compound just on the outskirts of town in Flint County or the other place which was a small storage cabin located on Northstar Rock. I inquired which place had the most leftover and he said the cabin up on Northstar Rock.
after the 3 and a half hour journey through town to get to Northstar rock we arrived at a small shack which had a Clover parked up outside, the shack was in quite good condition for its age. It was now 4pm the sun was starting to set, as you looked down at LS from Northstar all you could see were the Silhouettes of the skyscrapers contrasting with the yellow coloured sky. Phil unlocked the door to the shack and we both entered, the walls had a lot of rifles on the wall and boxes of ammo in the main storage area, Phil said if you ever need anything call me up and I’ll drive the Clover down to El Corona and you can pay then.
" Thanks Phil, just get some stuff together and meet me at this address in 2 hours. We need some guns down in the hood urgently."
" No problem, here’s my number for when you ever need to make the call."
I got in my car and turned on the radio. The SAN News was on and were asking the mayors view on the LS gang crime Unit C.R.A.S.H. and whether or not it was out of control. But like most politicians he bullsh*ted to the city and said everything’s fine, One day that could come back to bite him in his ass.
2 hours later..
I was finally back at Cesar’s, I told him the news about the gun situation which put his mind to rest on that current issue even though there was a lot more to get through before we were out of the situation we were in. I went for a shower to wash the day off, Then me and Cesar are going to Watch the Saints game on TV.
Posted 31 May 2008 - 12:05 AM
|QUOTE (Shootin_spree @ May 30 2008 @ 06:24)|
|A flight of stairs were going up so i followed them. Stopping and listening a couple of times.|
|A flight of stairs were going up, so I followed them, stopping and listening a couple of times.|
marlord911: $39. Very impressive; a lengthier installment would certainly have garnered more money.
2 Grams of Cocaine purchased: $100. Molotovs purchased: $5.
Protonkid: Added; welcome to BUYG.
mark-2007: I'll grade your 24 and 25 and add them to the Leones', since they were written about the Leones.
24: $35., 25: $46. Total $81 for the Leones.
I've also put a new rule in place about switching gangs and story counts.
As of 5/31/08, if you should decide to switch gangs, your old story count will be bracketed ( ) and you will start afresh with a new story count. So in mark-2007's example, his current story count is:
|0 (25) for the Vagos.|
And if mark-2007 writes 13 stories for the Vagos (just as an example), this will be his story count:
The bracketed story count will be used for bonuses like the Multiple of 5 bonus, 10th story weapons bonus, etc. But only the gang story count, the one not bracketed, can contribute to the 20 stories in a gang needed to unlock the bonus vehicle.
I hope this clears it up; therefore, mark-2007, you won't be able to use the Oceanic.
Gantons Most Wanted: $36. I don't really think using colors are necessary. The blue especially makes it hard to read for the people who grade your stories.
all done by radicell
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 31 May 2008 - 12:20 AM.
Posted 31 May 2008 - 05:00 AM
Chapter 12 - To Hell and Back
Marco was back, we had successfully defended ourselves against what seemed like an onslaught, but still, something did not feel right, and nothing added up. It was early morning and there was a chilly breeze outside. I stood outside, MP5 clutched in my hand, and very paranoid. Every sound, every bit of movement I saw, was making me extremely twitchy. The front door swung open and Marco walked out.
"Yo, Connor, my main man," He said, almost cheerful like. "What you be doin' out here?"
"Marco, my friend, I, I needed to come and clear my head," I said, dropping the MP5 down to my waste. "Whats the time?"
"Its around 7am," He told me, walking over to me. "What you need to clear your head for?"
"So much sh*t has been going down Marco," I told him, as he leant on the car next to me. "Sindacco f*cks everywhere, and we are now friends with the local Triads,"
"What?!" Marco asked, shocked.
"I dunno, Salvatore seemed to want them bad," I told him. "His plan better work,"
"It always does," Marco reassured me. "So whats the plan today man?"
"Hopefully, f*ck all, but, you never know," I told him, looking up the trail.
"The f*ck is that noise?" Marco said, looking around.
"What noise?" I asked, staring at him.
"Shhh, shhh, listen," He said quitely.
It was a low rumbling noise, almost like a van. Marco and I walked out to the track and looked down it, it was growing louder and louder. Then, all of a sudden a Van popped into sight.
"F*ck," I said quitely. "Marco, get Luigi and Mike out of the house,"
"Why?" He asked me.
"Just do it, now man," I urged him, and took cover behind a tree.
They cant have seen me yet, I peered around the tree, and it was getting closer, I held my MP5 at my heart and gulped. I ran out across the track shooting at the windscreen. The driver was hit in the head and the passenger in the chest. The van was at a stand still. I ran over to it, and released the clutch, it slowly began descending back down the hill. Marco came out with Luigi and Mike.
"Whats goin' on?" Luigi yelled.
I sprinted back to them.
"Take the car and leave, now, no arguments, none, just go," I said, panting.
"Connor, what the fu..." Mike started.
"Just go," I interrupted. "Dont make me drag you there,"
All of a sudden an explosion rattled throughout the air. The van, it had explosives, I half expected it too, but I hoped i was wrong.
"Holy Sh*t," Luigi said. "What the hell?"
"Go!" I yelled at them. "And take the other trail,"
I ran up onto the track and looked down, no noise could be heard, but I sprinted down the trail, and soon enough I heard voices.
"He's up this way,"
"Come on lads,"
"We are almost there,"
I took cover immediately behind a rock and the people came into view. Around 6 of them, and packing MP5s. I waited for them to get infront of me and passed the rock, and I stood out behind them. Holding my MP5 at there backs, I screamed at them.
"GET THE F*CK DOWN, F*CKERS!!!"
They all stopped and put there hands in the air, I ordered them to drop the guns, and they complied. I walked out infront of them and looked at them.
"Well, well, well, what the f*ck are you doin here?" I asked them, eyeing them up and down. "Huh, come on, what you doin here?"
No one said a word, I aimed at the guy in the middle and shot him in between the eyes. The others stood there, looking straight forward.
"Use ready to talk yet?" I asked them.
No one said a thing, i decided two more needed to be dealt with. Two more headshots, two more dead slimeballs.
"Anyone gonna talk, theres on three of ya left," I said. "So, what the f*ck are you doin here?"
Still no one spoke a word, I shot another one, and he fell to the floor. A slow trickle of blood was running down from there bodies. It was dusty and windy. Yet not one of them talked.
"F*ck this," I said and put bullets in the other two.
They laid there all in a line, with bullet holes in there head. I stepped over one of there bodies and continued down the track. A low grumbling could be heard again, and I sprinted up the trail. The van came around the corner and bullets met the windscreen. The driver took one in the chest and the passenger rolled out. I ran up to him and fired into his head. I got into the van and pushed the body of the driver out, he tumbled down the mountain side and I could hear his body hitting every rock, breaking every bone. I reversed the van to a safe place to spin it around. I drove it down the mountain while peering in the back, explosives were strapped to the bottom of the back floor. It looked like it had enough to take down a small army. I trundled it down the trail until two vans appeared, blocking off the trail. I sped up and bailed. I rolled out onto the trail, safely landing, not hurting myself. The van rammed into the other two vans and an explosion to envy Chinese New Year happened. Bits of metal flew everywhere, bodies were tossed far up into the sky. As I got up i heard another van, comeing up the trail below. I ran to the side of the trail i was on, and peered down to the next one. I saw the van and shot at the back of it. My bullets must of got through the roof to the explosives because I was thrown back a good twenty metres. I stood up after about a minute of lying there, bells ringing in my ears. I looked down the trail again and the shell of the van lay there, just a smouldering wreck. I slid down the mountainside to the next trail and walked down it to the bottom of the mountain. I got down there and then 10 cars or so, pulled into the entrance of Mount Chiliad. I stood there, holding my MP5, aiming at them. Each car had four men in it, and I knew I was f*cked. they were shooting at me and I took a bullet in the leg. I groaned in agony and clawed my way up. They were running at me. I pointed my MP5 at them and shot. Two of them fell back down the trail, another one dropped on the spot. More ran at me, and I fired again, hitting two of them. And then, my MP5 jammed.
"F*ck," I whispered and threw the gun down.
I lied back and one of the men running at me hit me square in the face with a baseball bat. I blacked out. The last thing I thought before I was hit was that Marco had better come save my ass.
Posted 01 June 2008 - 12:33 AM
Chapter 2: "Shark Attack"
As the tall man walked out of the Schumann Medical Center, we jumped off our bikes to greet him. Chester had previously been injured badly in the brawl with the Haitians at Ryton Aide Pharmacy, having taken two jolts from a stun gun, a stab to the leg from a switchblade, and countless beatings from baseball bats. But today, after he had been discharged from the Medical Center, he was good as new; we had brought Chester his finely-polished Freeway, which he hopped on and we rode off happily.
I was back at the Moist Palms, in our usual hangout, when Chester rode in on his bike. "Hey guys! Get up, let's go! I was just at the Greasy Chopper, and Big Mitch told me to tell all of you that we got a drug deal scheduled for 5pm with the Cubans! C'mon, it's in the yard across from the Malibu Club. Let's go!"
We hurriedly went back to the Greasy Chopper to collect our weapons. We discovered that a new shipment of Molotov cocktails had arrived, and this made us excited. We each grabbed a cocktail in case we needed it for the deal. Then, the bunch of us, headed by Big Mitch, jumped on our bikes and zoomed off.
Twenty minutes later, in the vacant lot opposite the Malibu, the Cubans had already arrived. A man stood with a briefcase, and several other, less important Cubans stood behind him. Big Mitch went up to him, showed him the two packs of crack, and the Cuban nodded. The Cuban then opened his briefcase, and showed the money to Big Mitch. "200 Dollars." Inside the briefcase sat two lonely banknote, each labeled $100. Big Mitch smiled, satisfied.
The two men were just about to hand each other the stuff, when a small round black object landed right between them. A split second was all it took for the two experienced men to dive instinctively for cover, as behind them, the grenade exploded with crushing force. The Cuban subordinates weren't as experienced; they were slow to react and several of them died, while one of them had his arm blown off.
Fortunately, both the drugs and the money had been in the men's hands, and so therefore were safe. Big Mitch yelled, "Kill them!" Only now did we turn our attention to the attackers, who turned out to be Sharks. After using their priceless grenade, their feeble baseball bats were no match for our Molotovs, which eradicated all of them with two bottles.
After hurriedly finishing the deal, Big Mitch commanded the rest of us onto our bikes, and we headed off back to Vice City West as another close encounter with death was closely shaved.
Two grams of cocaine sold, $200.
Posted 01 June 2008 - 06:44 AM
Mario “Blaze” Lucci. I am Mr. Vercetti’s getaway driver. Lately, things here, in Vice, were difficult. So now I am stuck here, on Prawn Island, holding those street gangs.
I woke up on the couch inside the studio. That damn shark, it simply doesn’t let me sleep. I got up. I could swear that thing is watching me. Ah, what the hell. I picked up my pack of cigarettes and walked away, anywhere, as far from this creature as possible.
I sat on the wing of the dodo and lit the cigarette.
I liked watching the speedboats. They were passing by everyday. Speed. Speed was my soft spot. But my crew was restricted from leaving the island. The border point was the north point mall.
-Que pasa, bro? - It was Luca, our sniper. He had an eye patch on his left eye. Claims he lost it in Russia, but no one really believes him -what’s new?
-Squallo III – I replied.
-Ah! Squallo… doesn’t mean anything to me. – He picked a cigarette from my pack.
-I thought as much. – I stood up and started moving back to the studio.
Suddenly my cell phone started ringing. This ringtone has gotten on my nerves already. I picked up.
-Mario, is that you?! – The voice sounded nervous.
-Mister Vercetti! How are…
-Mario, listen, there are the Forellis coming your way! Prepare to defend the studio.
-Yes, sir! – I hung up.
I quickly started running towards the main building.
-GUYS!!! Get to your guns! – I cried.
The signal started spreading around the studio. Soon there were sounds of loading Kalashnikovs all over the place. Luca was already on his favorite spot. All of a sudden it was quite. I could hear the wind blowing from the sea… the palms seemed to be whispering “trouble, trouble”… so it started.
Sentinels started appearing out of nowhere. Gunshots began screaming over the island. Painful cries, metal clashes could be heard.
I ran out of the main gate and opened fire at two of the Forellis. One managed to hide behind the passing by Burrito. I aimed my AK to where his head was supposed to be. BANG!!! He falls dead. I heard speedboats closing in the position.
-LUCA!!! – I screamed as loud as I could. He turned his scope onto me – THE SEA!!!
Luca turned towards the speedboats and shot a single shot. The boat exploded and it passengers could be heard swearing. Suddenly something fell next to me. I looked closer to it. It was a badge, it said “VCPD”.
-Ah, sh*t, James! – James came nearer, holding his AK in one hand. Strong guy.
-What’s up?! – He kept shooting.
-We have to get this over with!
-I got it. - I lost sight of him in the gun smoke.
I resumed the gun fight and started moving forward. Suddenly James ran out with an RPG.
-Say “Hello” to my little friend!!!
The Forellis dropped their guns and tried to escape, but it was no good. The missile hit their cars. The explosion tossed one Sentinel in the air and smacked most of them like tiny bugs.
-No, please, no!!! – the only survived wiseguy said.
-Nothing personal, – I replied, – Just business.
The prawn island seagulls once again were bothered.
PS. Sorry if it's too short.
Edited by Protonkid, 01 June 2008 - 06:48 AM.
Posted 01 June 2008 - 07:21 AM
Posted 01 June 2008 - 08:49 AM
Every since I can remember I waned to be gangbanger, I always wanted to have the power, and most of all the Respect. Now arriving back to liberty city from Los santos community college, I know that I can rule the streets. I studied Business law, Career Development, Proffesional communication and Black history. I knew these would be usefull doin this, I've got the training now to start. First on the list Wichita Gardens,I'm going to see if I can find D- Ice, My childhood friend.
"Taxi, Taxi, ahh" I shouted
"no one ever picks up a black man, I guess I'm walkin" I thought
"Dang, there are a lot of Colombian Cartels around the airport now" I thought to myself again
"Taxi, Taxi, yeaahhh" I souted
"Thank you sir" I told the Taxi driver
"For what?" The taxi driver said
"Nothing, nevermind" I told him
I read his I.D. and it read:Baboo "Tom" KKlaniganakinga.
"Hmm" I thought to myself
"So where you takin me?" I asked Baboo
"Wichita Gardens" Baboo told me
"How'd you...?" I studdered
"How did I what" Baboo said"
"Nothing" I mumbeled
"Why are you acting so odd, are you on Drugs!?" Baboo yelled
"What!? I yelled susprised
"Because if did itbe very nice for you to give your dealers name to me, Because I can never escape my wife's constant nagging!?"Baboo Asked emotionally
" I dont do drugs but once I start selling I can Give some to you" I said
"Enough talking we're here" Baboo shouted
"Thank's for the ride, here is some money" I told him
"No free of charge, Just get thoose drugs" Baboo shouted as he drove away
Wichita Gardens, Home, all I need to do is...
"What the F*CK!?" I shouted
"Yakusa, Ahh hell no" I told myself
"I gotta find some Hoods" I thought to myself
So I went into the projects and ahh a Sigh of relief found some
" Yo whats hapning" I asked the hoods
"Yo keep it down, and dont talk so loud" the random hood said
"Get down" annother hood said
"What's wrong?" I whispered
"All of the hoods have been in hiding ever since came in" The hood told me
"Did anyone get hurt or killed?" I whispered again
"No, no one even fired a shot" The hood Whispered to me
"Then why are we Hiding?" I asked him in great curiosity
"So no one gets hurt" The hood Whipered to me
"Where's D-Ice?" I asked the Hood
"He's at the club" The hood said anoyed
I left for the club, its not to far from here so it wont take to long. More Yakusa, at least we ar'nt in a war. There it is $outh$ide club...
NOTE:That is the end of my intro into the hoods
Edited by Skimask101, 01 June 2008 - 10:04 AM.
Posted 01 June 2008 - 11:32 AM
Posted 01 June 2008 - 11:35 AM
USA, Miami, Vice City, Prawn Island 11:21 25/06/1986
That damn shark again. The guys were at the table, playing Poker, Luca seems to win the third time already.
-Hey, Mario, - James was carrying an aviation gun on his shoulder, - heard the news? Lance is dead.
-No way, - actually I knew it was gonna happen. The guy could be stoned while on a business deal.
It was sunny as usual. Our manager was dealing with the cops outside. I wonder how many they’ll take today. I stood up and looked right into the eyes of the shark.
-Want a piece of me? – The shark was there speechless. I took out my gun and poked it into its mouth, - WANT A PIECE OF ME?!
The Shark roared. I shot all of the bullets I had and fell onto the floor. The guys were laughing; Luca had some sort of a remote control. I looked at the shark. Wires were poking out of the bullet holes.
-Very funny, - I picked up my coat and went out to the street, - I am going to the NPM, need something?
-We ran out of cheese, - Marco was wearing a chef’s hat.
-Oh yeah. Who’s Italian without cheese?
I got into my Deluxo. The engine was nearly singing. I pulled out of the studio and started moving towards the mall. Street Gangs were hanging around, watching me move along the mall. Right as I turned my left blinker on a Gang Burrito stopped in front of me. The passenger poked out and aimed his Machine Gun at me.
-Oh, sh*t!!! – I reversed the car and the bullet hit the rear view mirror, - MOTHERF…
They didn’t let me end the sentence; bullets started making holes in my door. I set the transmission to D and floored the gas pedal.
In the whistles of passing by bullets I took my cell out and dialed the Studio.
-Beep… beep… - nobody answered.
-Come on, COME ON!!! – The Burrito was nearing me.
-Pronto? – It was Marco.
-Marco, get some guys ready and meet me at the bridge right NOW!!! Ah, sh*t! – The phone fell down and a second Burrito joined the chase. Damn those things are fast. Suddenly I caught sight of a packer standing in way – great chance. I pressed the pedal as hard as I could and turned the steering wheel. The car slid up the ramp and made a 90 degree turn to the bridge. One Burrito flipped over, another one stopped. The gang bangers started getting out of the car and chasing me on foot. Suddenly the Deluxo started “sneezing”. I looked at the gauges, the analog showing “FUEL” was falling down with surprising speed. I tried pressing the pedal harder, but the car refused to go faster. I heard a gun shot, I looked around and saw a fire trail running towards me.
-My luck just can’t be THAT bad! – I got out of the car and ran. BOOM!!! The Deluxo exploded and the license plate saying “Outlaw” has flown past me. Way too close. The gang was nearing on me… THE HELL DO THEY WANT?!
I kept on moving, running between the traffic. Suddenly a Voodoo appeared on the horizon. My first thoughts were “Well… I’m f*cked”. But the lowrider passed me by and plowed into the Street gang’s lines.
-Psst! Hey, Mario, over here! – The Admiral with James at the wheel and Luca on the rear seat was parked nearby. I sneaked into the car and closed the door.
-What the hell, was that?! – I pointed at the war on the bridge.
-The Haitians were planning to take over the Prawn Island. The street gangs needed the studio as the castle, the easiest way was to capture “The king” and force us to leave.
-Damn. It seems I will always find adventures on my ass…
Posted 01 June 2008 - 06:08 PM
The $outh$ide Hood's club, Looks nicer now, good thing there ar'nt any Yakusa around.
As I walked up to the club I noticed were on high alert, four Hood's with Desert Eagles, four with Uzi 9mm's, and two with combat shotguns. There's some Hood Rumpo's in the parking lot to packed with Hoods carrying Desert Eagles. I walked up to the two Hoods guarding the door and they asked me.
"Password..."The hood gaurd demanded
"I dont know the Password" I told him
"You can go in now" The hood responded quickly
"I guess the password was 'I dont know the password', funny" I thought to myself
As I walked in the club I noticed we were'nt doing so well, we usually have towers of money. Now all I saw was a very small stack money Being guarded by 12 hoods, six with Uzi 9mm's and six with combat shotguns. Then a hood dressed nicely said
"Yo D, we got some new fool" The hood in the club yelled
"Wheres D-Ice?" I asked him
"Yo thats who I'm calling, He should be here soon cuz hes' in the back" The Hood told me
"So who are you?" I asked the Hood nicely
"Oh, Im the recruiter for the gang I check yo backround and see if yo usefull; By the way nice to meet you" He responded positively
I saw D-Ice walking in and looking very agitated. He walked towards me with a smile and said
"Izek, How you doin these day's!?" He shouted positively
"I just got out of college on the west coast, to hel-" I said
"College?" He interrupted
"Ya trust me the trainning gonna help" I responded
"Man, the only training you need is the streets" He told me sounding dissapointed
"Yea but I already have the streets training, but since I went college I got more training" I told him with enthusiasm
"Well, you betta put it to good use" He responded quickly
"Dont worry I'm going to bring this gang to the top!" I said emotionally
"Yeeeaaahhh boooyyeeee, that's my dog" He shouted in a very positive tone
"C'mon I need to show you around the 'Hood'" D-Ice said
"why, I already know my way around" I told him
"Yeah but things have changed, and we could talk about how going to get to the top, OK?" He said
So we went outside and there was a whole convy of Hood vans waiting for us But there was one filled with speakers and a cd player. As we were walking to our van, a hood puts a cd in the cd player and they start blasting the song "Ruff Ryders Anthem", then dozens of hoods with Desert Eagles, Uzi 9mm's, and combat shotguns packed the hood vans and we even had some gang burrito's and they packed those too. There was nearly 40 hoods, 11 vans packed with 4 Hoods in each but one with Speakers and a cd player blasting "Ruff Ryders anthem".
So we went off driving to east wichita gardens with everyone getting ready to clean up the hood. On the way there D-Ice was giving a confidence speech saying...
"Today we take back IS our's,
today we do what we do best,
today we show our power,
today is the beginning of a battle to the top,
this is our time to rule the streets,
were going to the best street gang in liberty,
if anyone stands in our way BY ANY MEANS NECCARY,
and most of all...
THIS IS $OUTH$IDE!"He screamened with great enthusiasm
"YEEEAAHHH!" the Hoods yelled
With the hoods confidence levels through the roof were are unstoppable, when we arrived in east wichita gardens it was infested with Yakusa, ON OUR TURF TOO! Now it really is the beginning of our time.
Then our Rumpo's circled each other to make a car fort in the parking lot and we killed...
"Round the Rumpo's together" I said
"Now you're down, you're down, you too, you think you're getting away from ME, ME ME?!
D-Ice yelled one at a time while he killed yakusa
D-Ice as using a Desert Eagle when I was using a Uzi 9mm. We slaughtered them every single one of them. They did'nt stand a chance, they had baseball bats and colts; while we had Desert Eagles, Uzi's, and Combat shotguns. one by one they fell to the hands of a street gang when I reaized we can rule the streets, we can get rid of anyone in our way, and no one is going to stop us...
Edited by Skimask101, 01 June 2008 - 06:15 PM.
Posted 01 June 2008 - 08:14 PM
...While were getting a head count of Hoods to see how many died, it turns out no one died as a mater of act no one got hurt. So I asked D-Ice
"Lets go back to the club, so we plan our next move" I askd him
"Good idea, you hear that everybody, pack up and lets go back to the club!" He shouted
"We need to expand, and we need more money" I told D-Ice
"Yeah I know" D-Ice responded quickly
"I know what we can do" I said
"what you thinken" D said
"We can buy some more property, and build a distillery"I said confidently
"Nigga you know how much money, that gonna cost!?" He said comicaly
"How else do you think we're going to get to the top!?" I said emotionally
"When we get to the club we'll see what we can do, is that ok with you?" He said sounding annoyed
"yeah" I said
As we drove to the club I thought to myself if I dont make doing this I wont be able to do anything else, because this is gonna be on my record forever. When we arrived I noticed that there ar'nt any Yakusa around here any more. We walked inside and started talking about what to do. I said...
"Mabye we need to get some Drugs?" I asked D-Ice
"No, No cocaine or ex, Got it?" He yelled Emotionally
"Yeah I just wanted to get some Weed, all natural" I responded Quickly
"Cool weed is a'ight,so how much?" D asked
"10.5 grams, $60" I told D
"$60!? Thats all the money we have!" D said
"yeah but we might be able to sell it for $1,200" I responded quickly
"Fine, but this better be worth it" D said
"Who are we going to get it from" I said
We both came up with ideas and we had it.
"Who has all the weed?" I said
"I dont know" D said
"Where does all the weed go when the cops get it?" I asked him
"UUhh the DEA?" D said
"Exactly, but we need to figure out a way to get the weed easier" I said
"How about we bribe the truck drivers who deliver it" D said
"Thats Genius!" I yelled
"C'mon we've got some drivers to bribe!" D said
So we got in a Gang Burrito(To conceal that were Hoods) and looked for a specific DEA van that carried 10.5 grams, so we thought that would be the one with the least security, we looked around and found one that had 3 DEA Patriots surrounding it, then one with a few police escorts, then we saw it.
"Anyone can be bribed" I said
"These guys even look dirty" D-Ice said
So we drove up to there side, we looked at them, they looked at us and we nodded. We both pulled over, they knew what to do, there as no talking just motion. They gave us 10.5 grams and I gave them $60, He smiled and left.
"That was a little weird" I told D-Ice
"Yeah they were som F*cking wierdos" D-Ice said comically
"We should get back club now" I told him nervously
As we drove to the club I thought about making alliances, and who we should be allies with. I thought of when Toni Cipriani helped the Hoods get our hood back, so I'll think about The Leones. When we got back to the club we were all happy that we'll be making more money now and that or gang wil rise. So we went into the office, closed the door.
Edited by Skimask101, 01 June 2008 - 11:41 PM.
Posted 02 June 2008 - 07:47 AM
So here we are. I've been meaning to do a complete remake of my original stories for some time now, but I never got around to it. And now I have that opportunity. But rather than simply extend my older stories, I think its best to pick up where I left off.
And don't worry. I intend of making this a somewhat freeing standing story. I'm not going to surprise you with a million characters from my original series. I hardly remember much from those days anyways. So, let's begin, shall we?
Mid-autumn 2005. The sun was once again setting over the hearts of the affluent in Shoreside Vale, the spirit of the workaholics in Staunton Island, and the souls of the impoverished in Portland, casting a shade of orange through the cloud of smog that permeated over Liberty City. Year after year, Liberty City worsen. Crime rates were climbing at an alarming rate for the fourth consecutive year, corruption in city hall grew worse and new factories spurting in Portland were actually creating a type of “killer fog” unseen since the days of 19th century Industrial Revolution London.
It was just one of those days.
El Burro's Apartment. Eastern Complexes. Hepburn Heights. Portland. Liberty City. Late afternoon.
I got off the phone with a receptionist at the Sweeney General Hospital in Trenton. One of my loyalest Diablos and a very close friend, who had been severely injured a few months back, was transferred from the ICU to a standard ward. I was on my way over there to visit him.
“Are you sure you have to do this, ey?” uttered Paco, one of my compadres, lifting himself up a little – he was laying down on my couch with his right leg dangling off, his arms under his head as always – to retrieve my jacket from under him.
“Pues, sí, way. I have to. It's been a while since I've seen this main man, man. He's been in the hospital for too long,” I replied.
“Okay, ey, just hit me up when you're on your way back, homes. My cousin Vicky's flying in from Los Santos and she's bringing one of her fly homegirls. Veronica I think. We gonna blaze it up and you know I'm gonna hit that sh*t, dawg,” Paco said with a smug look on his face.
I always like Paco's smug look, his eyes half closed, almost if he were trying to seduce a chicka while drunk from off his ass. It reminded me of myself during my Donkey Does Dallas days back in the '90s. You knew you had a quality, and not to mention, tasteful, adult film on your hands when you saw my “smug shot” and my two thumbs up on the cover.
Of course, that's not to say this decade was bad for pornography – on the contrary, it's become extremely easy to produce and distribute all kinds of adult literature, films, and memorabilia over the Internet. However, whereas many were satisfied with standard hetero porno in the '80s and throughout the '90s, the Internet has exposed a niche market for bestiality. But they don't call me El Burro por que soy un burro. I'm not stupid; I've grew on that desire and become a legend in the art of bestiality, unmatched by no one.
I grabbed the keys to my beautiful '67 Stallion from off the nearby coffee table and took my leather jacket from Paco.
“Sure thing, Paco. See ya later, amigo,” I mumbled as I put on my worn-out jacket.
“Lates, hombre,” drawled Paco as I walked out of my apartment and headed down the filthy hall. Ah, the filthy halls of Hepburn Heights. No matter how much cleaning Pavlo, the aging Ukrainian janitor, did, the halls seem to get worse and worse with the passing years. The worn out carpets, the decaying plaster walls, the occasional smashed lights. It was a mess.
A prefect metaphor for Liberty City. And a prefect metaphor for this whole situation.
Main Inpatient Ward. 3rd floor. Room 3105. Sweeney General Hospital. Trenton. Portland. Liberty City. Dusk.
Drifting... drifting in and out... of conscience... no idea how long. Feels like an eternity. Everything's black one moment... bright the next. Where am I? Feels... so cold... so inhumane. Is this hell? A pitch black void? I feel drained... so tired. Yet... alive.
“...miracle he survived...”
I hear a voice. Most of it is... incomprehensible.
“...explosion shook him up...”
But I could make out a few words. Odd. I'm not so tired anymore. I feel... liberated.
“...you think he's good to talk, ey?”
Wait. There's a second voice. I recognize this other voice. It's hard to tell, but I remember that heavy, slightly erotic voice from somewhere in my past. El... El something.
“Doubt it. He only recently slipped out of his coma. However, you are free to stay in this room and admire the fine art on the walls that was donated by the local Supa Save if you wish. Oh, and accompany your friend, of course.”
The first voice again. He chuckled for a bit. Sarcastic douche.
“Thanks, Doctor... Doctor...”
Oh! I remember now! It's El Burro! Ah crap! He's going to be pissed. Wait... Why am I here? Shouldn't I be... wait a minute, I don't remember a thing. The past just seems like a blur. Almost as if I never existed before the void.
“Doctor Wu. M.D. By the way, would you like to donate a kidney, your liver, or perhaps your left testicle? Trans-Plant, the organ retrieving specialists, is running a 'Noah Didn't Need Two of Every Organ, So Why Should You?' Organ Collection Drive. Donate, and receive 15% off your next order of juicy, plump Omaha Steaks. Donate in the next 15 minutes, and we'll even throw in an miniature American flag so you can flaunt your patriotism in people's faces, absolutely free,” exclaimed Doctor Wu.
“Ehhh...,” El Burro stuttered.
“Don't worry. Most first time donors are nervous but I assure you, you can live a perfectly normal life with only one...,” began Doctor Wu. “Oh,” he paused, stared at El Burro, bewildered, and continued, “You want some private time with your 'friend', eh? Well, I'll be over in morgue, collecting some organs, if you need me.”
I could hear the doctor running down the hall, jumping, shouting, and screaming obscenities. Doctors these days; horrifyingly enthusiastic.
Then, dead silence. Nothing could be hear, aside from the ECG machine beeping in unison to my steady heart rate, the low murmur of the newscasters on the television in the distance, the hundreds of conversations echoing on the walls and in the halls, and the ambiance of Liberty City outside; the chirping birds, the heavy traffic, the planes arriving to and departing from Francis International, the sirens from ambulances nearby, the heated arguments, the occasional shooting. Yup, dead silence.
“How you doing, amigo?” El Burro uttered after a minute, a sense of hopelessness in his voice.
I struggled to open my eyes. I was painfully relaxed. Doctor Wu gave me too much morphine. I felt so out of it. As I opened my eyes, I noticed El Burro was sitting in a chair, next to my bedside, with a worried look on his face. Something was eating up from the inside.
“Fine. Fine... I suppose,” I muttered with great difficulty, focusing on the IV bag above my head. It was half empty.
“Oh... I was worried... worried that you weren't going to make it.” El Burro looked a little tense in his chair, shifting his body almost every word he spoke. “But I'm glad you're okay. Ummm... do you remember anything?”
I laid there for a moment, pondering the question. Now that someone from the past was jogging my memory, I began to recall images. Vague images. A deafening bang, a blinding white light, gale force winds, then the most intense pain I ever felt in my life wrecking havoc upon the right side of my body.
“Not much, actually.” I didn't want to worry El Burro about those near-death images in my head. Not because he was my boss and I didn't want to seem weak in front of him. No, it was because El Burro has been there since day one. He accepted me when everyone else practically left me for dead. He's probably the closest thing I have to a family now in these cold, cruel streets of Portland. And I knew how much he hated to see me vulnerable like this, laying on a hospital bed, barely escaping Death's frigid embrace. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him even more. “I don't remember much... at all.”
“I'm gonna give it to you straight, hombre,” he began to explain, but was interrupted by something on the television. Seemly lost for words and distracted, he turned around, picked up the beige colored remote control and turned up the volume about 10 clicks or so.
“Hello, this is Grey Richards,” announced the middle-aged Liberty City News nighttime news anchor. “If you are just joining us, we have been following a story that just came into our newsroom. We can't confirm it at this moment, but we have received reports of an unknown explosion that occurred at the newly constructed Staunton Towers in Staunton Island. Whether or not this explosion was deliberate or not, we cannot confirm at the moment. Again, there are unconfirmed reports of an unknown explosion in Northern Staunton Island. Unknown number of causalities. Again, let me stress this very clear. We cannot confirm if this was the result of a explosive device as discovered in the Hepburn Heights explosion that occurred only early this year, which left one person dead, and five others severely injured.”
Sirens in the distance.
“Do you remember our friend, Mikolai? Mardi Gras?” El Burro continued. “You know, the Russian-”
“Yes. Of course I remember that guy,” I affirmed. Mikolai, or Mardi Gras, as he was better known as, was my roommate and my best friend. Smuggled aboard a Russian oil tanker a while ago, he was held captive – along with several other immigrants – by AMCO. The local oil corporation forced them to do their “dirty work” in return for his freedom.
Back before this little hospital visit, I used to own the small, dusty AM Gas Station in Harwood, and that “dirty work” meant harassment – the occasional thug sent to attempt to rob my store, rough me up, chase away valuable consumers, vandalism, etc. – on a regular basis; it probably had something to do with a price dispute, but I don’t recall very well. It got to a point where I had to call El Burro himself to send a few Diablos my way to keep those hired goons from trashing my gasoline station.
So, around 11 PM every night for two weeks, I closed the gas station early and I met up with the three of them down the street, on a ridge overlooking the car crusher; Felipe, a really cunning, semi-buff guy straight out of high school, Rodrigo, a charismatic veterano, and Pedro, the shortest and youngest of all four of us. Most of the time, however, we'd screw around out of sheer boredom. I remember we'd drink our asses off a lot while “looking out” for vandals.
One night, however, we finally caught a couple of those thugs in the act. Four guys jumped out of a speeding Rumpo that flew past us. I remember them perfectly as I watched them get up from under the cover of darkness, a street light the only thing illuminating them; tall, Caucasian, well-built, old, dark, ragged clothing, one of them head shaved, Mikolai among them. As they approached the front of the food mart, baseball balls and spray cans in hand, Felipe came up with an idea. Rather than face them head-on and probably get shot, we snuck up from behind, and then he tripped one of the thugs by kicking the back of his leg, and beat the crap out of him with the thug’s own bat. Shocked at the brutality of the assault, the other three guys dropped everything they had and took off running in opposite directions, two of which were trying to jump the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Rodrigo and Pedro run off after the bald headed one down the street, while Felipe was continued beating the thug.
“Get that, foo! Break his knees and sh*t,” yelled Rodrigo down the block, running along side Pedro. “Show 'em what happens to people who f*ck with the Diablos! Ariba!”
I quickly got my keys and as I slid over the hood and jumped into my awaiting Diablo Stallion parked next to one of the pumps, I heard yelling and screaming down the street and figured that Rodrigo and Pedro must’ve caught up to the thug they were crashing near the car crusher. Figuring they could handle themselves, I sped off in pursuit of the guy running toward the abandoned train yard. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, my eyes were trained at the locked gates the thug was unaware of.
Then that's when I saw another in my path. He was standing in the middle of a street, literally like a fawn in my headlights, frozen as my 3,000 pound killing machine roared right at him; I coincidentally ran over another unseen thug who was running across the street, pausing in my headlights. Knowing he wasn't going to get up anytime soon, I drove on, straight for the locked gates. By the time my headlights shined on the metal bars, my prey knew he was trapped. Little did I know my prey would end up being my future closest friend. Mikolai.
He futilely tried climbing the gate, but he lost his grip, slipped, and fell. He laid on the ground, right elbow supporting his body, left arm covering his eyes from the blinding headlights. He was trembling uncontrollably; fear had gotten the best of him. He was cornered and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. His life rested in our hands. And as far as we were concerned, we weren't just going to let them off with a slap on the wrist.
Ten minutes later, we took our prisoners down to one of the older apartment's basement, ready for some good old-fashioned interrogation. We gave them all a good beating for roughly an hour before any of them even said a word. Mikolai was the only one who spoke up, the only one in good enough shape to even talk. And just like that, he told us everything about AMCO's plans. It was then that I realized that Mikolai could prove to be a useful ally.
Against the trio's objections, I met up with Mikolai a few days later at a local Red Light District bar, notorious for its Eastern European and Russian immigrant population. We talked over a couple of drinks and a game of darts with a number of his fellow countrymen. Finally, we decided it would be in our best interests to pay AMCO a visit to liberate ourselves from their chains of greed. After a brief struggle with armed AMCO executives, we emerged victorious. Mikolai and his fellow men were free to do as they pleased without the fear of being deported at the hands of a heartless corporation and I was free from the middleman who was cutting into my profits. Mikolai and I have been close friends ever since.
“Hey, are you still awake, man?” El Burro's voice pierced through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.
“Yeah,” I replied, a bit exhausted. Remembering the past can take a lot out of you. “What about Mikolai?”
“I don't know how to put this,” El Burro croaked. It was obvious something deeply troubling him. “He didn't make it.”
“What? What... what... what the hell are you talking about?” I shrieked.
“He's dead,” El Burro finally wailed. “Mikolai died in that explosion, hombre...”
Sirens in the distance.
Posted 02 June 2008 - 11:07 AM
Da Nang Boys - Pier 69
Chapter X: Good Night, Vietnam
The Yakuza Stingers drove at a moderate speed deep into the heart of Chinatown. At first I couldn't believe the brutality of the Japanese; they drive-byed and shot every single pack of Triads we saw. Before long, not only was the smell of the smoke from the Yakuza's weapons in the air, but also the realization between all three Asian groups, the Triad, the Yakuza, and the Nang, that a bloody war was on.
Of course, our side didn't intend to stay in our vehicles the whole time. As more and more Triad foot troops arrived, our Stingers slowly began emptying out. The Triads' Uzi's and AK47's were quite equally matched against the Yakuza's Colt .45's and our Mac-10's. Of course, our main strategical advantage was that we still had MP5's, Combat Shotguns, and Grenades hidden in our cars. Right now, Mac-10's and Colt's were enough to counter the Triads.
I was firing at a Triad member from behind a dumpster when I noticed a dark shadow emerging from an opposite rooftop. I pondered this strange sight for a second, but the familiar silhouette of the long barrel of a gun confirmed my disquiet. I yelled at the top of my lungs towards my comrades, "Sniper!" A moment later, a Da Nang Boy to my right dove behind a car, a second before the ground that he was strafing on was blown apart by the powerful sniper rifle bullet. I jumped from my cover and shot at the sniper with my Mac-10, but the gun's range was too short. Instead, the sniper took aim at me...
His marksmanship was not as accurate as I had thought. Being slow to react, I had thought that I was facing certain death. But the bullet whizzed past me through the small space between my head and my shoulder. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered a new feeling that I would never forget. I raised my hand to my neck and felt that the bullet had indeed drawn blood. An inch to the left, and I would have been history.
The battle continued on all across Chinatown. All of the people I recognized were in individual battles of their own. Giap was in charge of planting incendiary devices which we planned to destroy Chinatown with. Trent was engaged in a fierce 8 on 8 gun-battle, but body armor was protecting him for the time being. Ben, the munitions expert, was handing out MP5's and Grenades to gang members that had either run dry with their Mac-10's or were looking for something more deadly. And Ed, one of my closest friends, I saw in horror, was laying on the ground in a pool of crimson, coughing, wheezing, groaning; obviously on the verge of death.
I ran over to him. "Ed, we need to get you to the hospital right now." I had the San Fierro Medical Centre in mind, but Ed replied, "No use, Max. I'm going to die here tonight, and I know it." Tears welled in both our eyes, and I gave him a brotherly hug - despite the blood and other bodily fluids that stained his shirt and the nearby asphalt. He wheezed a few more times; I could almost see the life escaping him. With his last ounce of energy, he coughed up a few more blots of blood onto his face, and muttered, "It's been good, Max."
I sat there for a few more minutes. Luckily, Ed had fallen into an alley, and so therefore there were no Triads around to attack me. Staring blankly at Ed's dead body, I cried for the first time since I left my old home in Da Nang, Vietnam. From my restricted view from inside the alley, I could see gunfire being exchanged, and more of my buddies laying in pools of mangled blood. Despite the rest fighting valiantly, I stood myself up and threw my Mac-10 onto the ground. My heart devoid of feeling, I walked out of the alley the other way, away from the battlefield, towards the seaside.
It wasn't a long walk, just down a few hills and a corner. But in the end, having arrived at the fenced seashore, watching the boats in front of me pass by, and listening to the civilians behind me mill around, my mind wandered. I wondered what my life's goal was, was it just to arrive in San Fierro, establish a gang, then get decimated? Was there any more in store for me? I doubted I could get a good job here, a cashier in a Pizza Stack at best. I wondered where my family were, were they still in Da Nang? Were they still alive? As I leaned on the fence separating me from this everlasting ocean, a million questions ran through my mind. But one question was singly more important than the rest, I realized, and I gave an anxious sigh, contemplating what to do next.
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