2,323 replies to this topic

[wiIIiam]

QUOTE (ScratchCard @ May 23 2009, 15:15)

I was saying you or someone else should become a staff member so you can rate the stories..

I know. Just sayin'.

[Rucke]

Spanish Lords
Chapter 3: Get introduced at the Introduction

I was sitting in the apartment, watching some television together with Roberto. They showed his favourite program, I'm Rich. He used to dream about having the money, the cars, the power, the respect and the ladies. He always told me that one day he would appear on the show. In the middle of the program someone called my cell phone. I looked at the screen and a text with "Hector Valdez is calling" appeared.

"Yeah?" I said right after I pressed the answer button.
"Ramón, its Hector. Listen, the boss heard about what you did to the Albanians. He wants to meet you in person." Hector said.
"Alright, tell me when and where." I said.
"You know a club named The Introduction?" Hector asked. "It's a fancy place in Fortside. Meet me right outside the club and I'll introduce you to Santos and his brother Jesús. And put on a suit, you'll need one if you want to get in." Hector said and hung up.

Finally all the hard work started to pay off. I couldn't believe that I was about to meet Santos himself, the leader of the whole Spanish Lords street gang. I walked away to the closet to put on a suit. Actually I only owned one, a nice white Armani suit I bought back in Puerto Rico right after a successful robbery. I put it on and took a quick look in the mirror. I had to admit that I looked terrific in the white suit with black shirt and red tie.

"Where you going?" Roberto asked when I got out of the closet.
"I have a meeting with Santos, the boss himself." I proudly told Roberto.
"You're kidding me? Is it okay if we come too?" Roberto asked.
"Hector only mentioned my name." I told Roberto.
"Yeah but we are your guys, plus Andy is your own brother." Roberto tried.
"Roberto, Hector only mentioned my name." I told him one more time.

I started my Primo car and headed for the Introduction nightclub in Fortside. The clock was about 11 p.m and the traffic was heavy. I started to get nervous as the time passed, I didn't want to be late, that would completely send out the wrong signals. However I reached the Introduction in time. It really was a fancy place, neon lights, a big red carpet on which the line was standing on, lots of bouncers etc. The line was one of the longest I ever seen and I figured it would take a long time before I got in. When I had parked the Primo behind the club I heard someone call my name. I looked back and saw Hector Valdez, dressed in a nice black suit with red tie.

"Come on Ramón, Santos own this club, you don't have to stand in line like some f*cking idiot." Hector said and showed me through the backdoor.

The interior of the club was even fancier. Luxury leather couches surrounded the big dance floor in the middle of the club. A big bar that was flashing in neon lights was located at the edge of the club. Hector showed me through the club and to one of the leather couches where two other men were sitting. One of them was a tall guy in his late thirties. He was almost bald, had a big scar at his right cheek and was dressed in an expensive grey suit. When I walked closer I could see that he was tattooed up at his neck and back head. The other guy was a bit shorter and had a bit more hair on his head. He had a small moustache and was dressed in a dark blue suit.

"Santos, let me introduce Ramón Rojas. Ramón was the one who took out the Albanian drug dealers." Hector said once we reached to couch.
"Ramón, que pasa amigo? Sit down my friend." The guy with the tattoo said. It was now revealed that it was he who was Santos Morales.
"Thank you Mr. Morales." I said and sat down between Santos's brother Jesús and Hector.
"Hector tells me you and your boys are loyal, and loyalty is all you can hope for in this world. Loyalty is trust." Santos said.
"It very true, I'm always loyal." I said.
"While you’re here, let me introduce you to some people that not are loyal." Santos said. "You see these guys over there?" Santos said and pointed at two guys sitting at another couch. "That's the Bagello brothers. Tommy and Giorgio Bagello are both members of the Lupisella Crime Family. And you see the guy over there?" Santos asked and pointed at a Latino guy in black ponytail. "That's José Torres, leader of Elizabeta Torres's drug cartel while she's in prison. And over there is Dwayne Forge, leader of the North Holland Hustlers. The fat guy on the dance floor is Nenad Vaskar, leader of the Albanians here in Bohan." Santos explained.
"Thanks for the information; I'm sure it's useful if I ever work with these guys." I said.
"You bet it's useful. I want you to get close to these guys. I want them to trust us so we can take them out later on. Tomorrow I want you to visit the Bagello brothers at their restaurant in Northen Guardens, it's called La Violetto." Santos explained.
"You got it boss." I said to prove my loyalty.

On my way back to the apartment I felt good. It felt like I was on my way up in the ranks of the gang. However this Santos guy seemed a bit paranoid. Wouldn't it be better to work with these guys instead of taking them out? Anyway, right now it was best to just follow his orders. The next day I stopped by La Violetto in Northen Guardens. It was a typical Italian restaurant, with Italian food and Italian music played in the background. I recognized Tommy Bagello at one of the tables. However he was dressed much more casual today than last night; a dark camp shirt with some Hawaii pattern and black chinos. Tommy was in his late thirties, had black hair and was quite unshaved.

"Hey, Tommy Bagello right?" I asked while I approached him.
"Yeah, and you are?" Tommy asked and looked at me.
"Ramón Rojas." I said.
"Ah, Santos's man. Please sit down. Can I get you anything, some pasta, fresh mozzarella?" Tommy asked.
"No thanks. Santos wants us to be friends and exchange some favours with each other. So, you need help with anything?" I asked.
"Yeah, now that you mention it I actually got a problem. My brother Giorgio is down at Rick's Golden Gym in Chase Point where he uses to workout. The owner, Rick Caputo ain't paying his protection money. Maybe you can help my brother out?"
"Don't worry, I'm an expert in extortion." I said and left La Violetto.

Rick's Golden Gym was actually a quite fancy place for being a gym located in Bohan. Everything was nice and clean. I saw Giorgio Bagello standing near the desk, talking to someone behind it. Perhaps it was this Rick Caputo. Giorgio was also wearing a more casual outfit than last night. He was dressed in a striped dark blue t-shirt and black chinos. He looked to be in his mid thirties and had a lot of muscles, even though I was pretty sure it was mostly steroids.

"You're Giorgio right?" I asked him.
"Yeah, did my brother send you down? Can you help me with this asshole?" Giorgio asked and pointed at Rick Caputo.
"That's why I'm here." I said and grabbed this Rick guy by the neck. I held him steady so Giorgio could punch him. Giorgio gave him three hard sucker punches. Then I introduced him to the concrete wall. Rich Caputo fell bleeding to the ground, screaming "I'll pay double, please don't hurt me!"

New chapter coming soon...

[Build Up Your Gang]

Hi, how's everyone? Haven't rated in a long while...

vinnygorgeous: We owe you $100 for your multiple of five bonus. Your sixth story earns $48, you've used good word choice and balanced dialogue and description. Your seventh story earns $47, you've still got some punctuation to work on.

Colt M14: We owe you $200 then.

Ciabatta: You're in. First chapter, $49. You did well setting the scene, and it was a quality first chapter.

Little-Jacob: You're in too.

ScratchCard: $40. Really, that was pretty much all dialogue, although it was decently done. Next time, try to use more description, for example describing the main character's feelings or describing the setting. Your next chapter gains $42, even though it was shorter, there was good use of descriptive writing included. Multiple of five bonus, $100. I get the feeling you've rushed to finish your Triad stories, in that case, I look forward to what you've got with the Albanians.

Osric: You're out.

Wanted Assailant: $47, solid chapter, a good set-up to your A-game.

zavier: Basically, it means South Bohan in general.

Scifen: You're added.

Rucke: Bat bought. Great chapter as always, $49. A bit more length would do you wonders. For your third chapter, you earn $52.

radicell: I'm in.

[wiIIiam]

Alright, thanks, radicell . I'm not sure if I want to join, because I don't know much about any one of the gangs. But if I can actually think of a gang I can write stories for, then I'd gladly join.

[ScratchCard]

[ScratchCard]

Something has gone wrong when placing me to the Albanians. It should say

Stories: 0 (8), but instead, my Triad stories are added as Albanian stories: 5 (8).

Doublepost, sorry.

[vinnygorgeous]

QUOTE (ScratchCard @ May 24 2009, 07:05)

Good to see someone rating again. And yeah, I rushed through the Triad stories. I kinda expected my Albanian story to be rated, but then I realised I hadn't posted it yet. Btw, who did the rating last time?

Radicell I think

[vinnygorgeous]

Pavano Crime Family
At the Leisure Center
8:Just Business


You don’t get nothing for nothing in this business sure I was a capo and I got a piece of my crews action but I still had to earn like every other wise guy. A lot of my personal income comes from knockdown loans, borrowers pay five points weekly for at least twenty weeks before the principle can start to come down thus for a ten grand loan the borrower pays five hundred dollars a week, and at the end of the twenty weeks the borrower still owes the complete principle. I had about a hundred grand on the street in knockdown loans and another three hundred in standard loans.

One such loan was to Glen Bowyer the owner of Fudz’s in Lower Easton. Glen couldn’t go to the bank because his playboy lifestyle financed by cheap credit had caught up with him and led him to me and my brand of very expensive credit. Its not uncommon during the early weeks of repayment for the borrower to contemplate going to the police and defaulting on the loan and Glen was no different, the standard procedure at this stage is to send a couple of Pavano associates to explain the finer points of mob finance.

Usually I would have sent Tommy but he was busy watching my back, so I gave a chance to another promising associate Rico Danitello, Rico was the younger brother of Angelo who was a made member of my crew, when he got back he explained that Mr Bowyer saw the light when he was dangled by his feet out of the window of his pent house suite at The Majestic, Rico had handled himself well and had done his chances of being straightened out no harm at all.

The loan shark business was an ok earner but I had grown jealous of crews in other families who had made millions from stock exchange frauds, we had been searching our shy books for any pliable city workers who we could use for pump and dump schemes, the problem that we found was knowing which ones to approach, I was expecting there to be about a dozen or so, but the number was more like fifty as city workers it seemed had an unquenchable thirst for quick credit. In the end we used a system of picking the most desperate and hoping they would then help cultivate the others.

We soon homed in on a Shark employee who was into us for seventy large, I had him followed for a few days before choosing the right place and time to approach him. Amongst his many vices was an addiction to strippers, he was in the Triangle Club or Bahamas Mamas most nights. One of our associates had a sister who danced at Bahamas Mamas so we paid her to make our proposal, needless to say he was very receptive and agreed to meet us in his lunch break tomorrow at Al Dente’s.
The last thing I had to do today was see Vito I was meeting him at his crews Pizza restaurant on Colony Island.

“Vinny, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“How you doing Vito, its good to see you, I got some bad news we have got a funeral in our neck of the woods.”
“That kid that came out to the house, I couldn’t believe that, right on my doorstep when is the funeral?”
“Its tomorrow, his family is back in Italy they are flying in tonight, cost me a bundle flying them all here but the kid died driving me you know, he saved my life.”
“You thought about a replacement?”
“Actually that’s what I wanted to see you about, the induction ceremony, why not whack her at one.”
“No I don’t think it would work, the meet with DeMeo isn’t looking as promising either, they have called him in, but they are picking him up and taking him to an undisclosed location, we can’t set up the hit if we don’t know where the meet is. But there is a window of opportunity with one of your five, Pete Venturella is going to a rehab clinic in Peru, he will have no contact with the outside world for two months so he won’t be missed as long as his family believes he got on the plane.”
“Ok you got an idea when or the name of the clinic?”
“No sorry I wish I could give you more, this is going to be the first hit in the purge so all eyes will be on you so be careful, use your best people, and if you don’t trust them with your life do it yourself.”
“Ok no problem, but think about the induction idea, maybe get her when she leaves, follow her and whack her on her way home, we could have another car waiting outside her house, so even if she does escape we can get her then.”
“I’ll think about it, you staying for dinner?”
“Yeah sure thanks.”

They made some of the best pizza in liberty city at Vito’s so I always enjoyed eating here, “this is great Vito,” I remarked, “thanks Vinny, so I hear your nephew is coming up in the world?”
“Yeah Johnny Boy was always a good kid, to tell you the truth I was always disappointed that he is not with us but DeMeo is a good guy and he like it in Alderney.”
“Maybe he will be the next Salvato button man soon.”
“I hope so it would mean I wouldn’t worry as much.”
After eating I headed over to Bahamas Mamas with Tommy where I met up with Sonny and Jimmy for a night out on the town. I eventually wound up at my goumada's place in Suffolk, I figured it was better to turn up there wasted than get an earful from the wife.

[The Aztek]

Nevermind, I might reconsider later.

[Ciabatta]

Chapter 2: Working Girls


Ilya’s eyes started to open; his vision was kind of blurry. His head was heavy, about to ache in pain. The taste of gin and cigarettes was in his mouth. He stared at the ceiling above, the paint was chipped in many places with some parts fully exposed to see beyond the coat of white paint. He wasn’t back at his apartment. He fumbled around in the soiled bed. He was completely naked.

He looked to his right, a women slept comfortably with her back turned to him. A cigarette on the night stand next to her side of the was still lit, burning in the ash tray with a little bit left until it hit the filter.

Ilya’s clothes were next to bed sprawled out all over the dirty shag carpet. He got up out of bed and began to get dressed. The woman in the bed began tossing and turning as she heard Ilya’s belt buckle toss about as he buttoned his pants. She rolled over and looked at him. Her eyes were tired and droopy. She was a junkie, a heroin user, Ilya could tell by the tired look in her eyes. Her hair was greasy, black, and all over the place. She looked at last night’s lover through her half-awake eyes. She waved him to come back to bed.

“No, where is Amir?” Ilya asked the woman, he became disgusted with the fact that he had sex with such an unclean, mess of a woman.

“He is in his room, next door over.” Her face sunken face laid on top of a tan-stained pillow. “How was it for you, last night?” She talked in a Eastern European accent.

“I regret it,” Ilya told her as he put his shirt on and walked out of the room. The women rolled her face into the pillow, insulted by the comment.

Ilya slammed the door to his room and walked out into the hall. The apartment building was crumbling; paint chips laid everywhere. Amir owned the whole building so technically he was the landlord but he had no super to maintain the building. Amir didn’t care about the building, his customers came to f*ck and go not to toil about and look at the decorations. Ilya walked down the hallway and came to Amir’s room, just where the whore said he would be.

Ilya gently rapped on the door. He waited a few seconds, he heard nothing. He rapped again, but this time louder. Once again, he heard nothing. Finally, he stood back and kicked the door in with every muscle he could muster up in his state of “morning illness”. The door cracked at the end where the knob was. He could hear Amir fumbling around inside the room.

“Hold on, Ilya!” Amir shouted from inside. Ilya leaned up against the cracked wall next to the door.

The door flung open, Amir looked at Ilya through the same blurry eyes that Ilya had. “Who is that woman?” Ilya asked him, his thumb pointing to the direction down the hall where his room was.

“That was my top girl, Merilyn.” Amir smiled, his grin filled with sleaze and filth.

“You need fresh meat, my friend.” Ilya said to him shaking his head.

“Was she not good enough?” Amir asked of his associates stay.

“I don’t remember it and the sight of her in the morning made me wish I was drunk again.” Ilya said to him.

Amir began to chuckle at the mobster’s joke. Ilya gave him a smirk out of the side of his mouth, the happiest Amir has ever seen Ilya.

“Last night was fun, no?” Amir asked.

“Last night was good.” Ilya said to him.

“Good, good. Now, about the women-“

“I’ll get the women. I give a phone call to Anton in Hove Beach and I find out if it is manageable.” Ilya interrupted Amir.

“Good, good. Thank you, my friend.” Amir said to Ilya as he began to walk down the hall.

“No problem. Cheers, comrade.” Ilya shouted down the hallway.

Ilya made his way out into the morning sun, he squinted his eyes as the sun shone through his weary eyes. He felt like he had been dragged through the ringer. He still felt drunk from the night before, the street before him full of people and cars humming about became dizzy. He began to walk; the smell of gin emitting from his skin.

He reached inside his pants pocket and grabbed his Whiz mobile phone. He scrolled through his list of contacts and found the name Anton. He clicked the green call button on his cell phone as he stopped at an intersection. The dialing sound buzzed a few times before the noise of a phone being picked up was heard.

“Hello?” It was Anton who lived just a few blocks down from Amir’s apartment complex. His Russian accent was as thick as Ilya’s was.

“Anton, aren’t you glad to hear from a pal?” Ilya asked. The light turned red at the intersection and the crosswalk signal turned from a red hand into a white walking figure. Ilya entered the crosswalk, the sound of humming engines from the cars at the stoplight entered into the phone’s speaker.

“At this hour, no my friend. What do you want?” Anton asked, his voice tired and droning.

“I am in the neighborhood. I woke up at Amir’s.” Ilya said, he paused for a second.

“That is never good, my friend. I have woken many times to the sight of beastly figures before. Was it….uh…Merilyn?” Anton asked.

“How did you guess?” Ilya asked, he passed by storefronts that were beginning to open their doors and flip their ‘Closed’ signs to ‘Open’.

“Amir’s top girl. He pulls that with everyone, my friend.” Anton laughed into the phone.

“Damnit.” Ilya uttered.

“No what do you want?”

“I need to see you. A request from Mr. Tikvah himself, it’s about working girls.” Ilya said.

“I am awake. Come up to the apartment.” Anton said, his tone of voice changing from upbeat to serious.

[El Zilcho]

Would anyone object if a new asset was added to the Albanians?

[Rucke]

QUOTE (El Zilcho @ May 26 2009, 20:13)

Would anyone object if a new asset was added to the Albanians?

No, go right ahead. The Albanians seem to be a quite popular gang.

[wiIIiam]

-

[El Zilcho]

The Gambetti Family

Airport Appointment: Chapter 35

The funeral was horrible. Every second of the day, my friends were crying, every single one was brought from our high perches to the ground, our partying and infidelities ceased, for remembrance of the friend that supported us all. But I didn’t mourn. I was empty, only hatred. I didn’t celebrate Dom’s life with everyone else at the reception, instead I went to a dingy, old bar called ‘Comrades’ and got pissed out of my head. Already growing a stubble, I fell asleep in the alley behind the bar, throwing up. I, a Capo, was a disgrace. But I knew I was to blame, I could have done more to take Carmine earlier. Instead, I focused on making money. Carmine Pamino’s exile had been more than enough to get him temporarily out of our minds, and we returned to money making and life breaking, only to be cruelly thrust back to the thirst for vengeance, in the worst way possible. But I knew now where and when Carmine would be arriving, 5:00PM, Francis International. It would be the very day after the funeral, and I knew that my mind would be conjuring hundreds of ways of eliminating the weasel, once and for all.

“Frankie.” It was Joey speaking to me; he was holding me by the shoulders and steadying me, as we all stepped into the Cognoscenti that would take us to the airport, for what we knew would be a huge risk.

“It’s not your fault.” I batted his hand away, and starred not into his eyes, but outside to the sky, not wanting to think about what I had done, but rather what I would do. He realised this and no one, not even Sharkey, who was happy to have bedded a beautiful woman the night before, spoke until we reached the airport, with 6 minutes to spare. We loaded up the guns, and stepped out, strapping on our body armour and running past the guards, already bribed and ready to tip the cops off that the attack happened on the other side of the airport, giving us time to make good our escape. We took our positions by the hangar, and coming over the ocean we saw it, the private jet, glistening and gliding peacefully towards the run way, its landing gear extending out like birds legs, as it touched down and skidded to a stop right outside the hangar, taxing it in slowly. I unslung my AK 47 and waited as the tip of the Shamal poked through the doors, moving in slowly. The shadows prevented us from being noticed, and as soon as the plane stopped, Fiorentino and Sharkey started the attack.

I followed suit, letting the automatic weapon spew the stream of bullets forward, rifling into the plane and shredding the windows to pieces, leaving distinct bullet holes and indentations in the white surface of the plane. Screams and shout of fear and surprise emanated from the cockpit, as the crew and passengers were hit and flew back, tripping and some jumping to the floor, desperate to avoid death. Knowing carmine was among the men inside; I let my thoughts of harming innocents pass as I moved closer, as did all of us, towards the plane, watching as Johnny D and Pete riddled the front of the plane with gunfire, sending broken glass and blood flying inward. Joey reached to pull the door of the plane open, but recoiled just as a flurry of sub machine gun fire blasted outward from the back windows. With fury and instinct, we replied, sending our would be attacker flying down, blood spraying once again. Dragging the door open, we rushed inside the plane’s cabin and sprayed everything, through the seats and into the back end mini bar, blasting any survivors to pieces. As quickly as we entered, we realised that amongst the Pamino gang’s men, not a single one was Carmine. We had blasted a plane almost to pieces, and nothing was here. I kicked the cockpit door in anger, sending it flying open to reveal the harrowing sight of brains and broken bodies lying against the bloodied control panel.

We quickly left, knowing the nearby sirens would be upon us in moments. Jumping into the Cognoscenti, we detonated makeshift bomb consisting of pipe bombs taped together, rippled outward and blowing the Shamal into two large, flaming chunks. A power slide later, Skarkey was speeding down the runway, and through the opened checkpoint, and away, swerved through the evening traffic, passing my a huge column of about 20 police cruisers, sirens blaring and wheels screeching towards the crime scene. We arrived back at the Pane Celeste exhausted, and frustrated at the mistake we had made, and the fact Carmine was still at large, and probably orchestrating a pay back that none of us could expect, nor know when it would arrive.

[vinnygorgeous]

QUOTE (Lochie @ Apr 6 2009, 21:50)

Hey guys, I'm going to start PM'ing the inactive members and remove them from the roster if they don't reply in a week, so be sure to check your PM's later today.

Do you think we should have a cut off point for inactivity where drastically long periods result in removal and free up some spaces.

[El Zilcho]

A month and a half of unexplained absence is a good cut off point.

[Build Up Your Gang]

Alright here we go with the ratings again!

ScratchCard: You started off really good but then it was back to the usual thing. Way too much dialog and nearly no description at all. $30.

vinnygorgeous: You combine description and dialog pretty good. Your problem though is that you lack in using commas. It makes it harder for me to read. $45.

Ciabatta: You got talent man! I really liked the chapter. Keep 'em coming. $49.

zavier: You've been added. Welcome onboard!

El Zilcho: Very good chapter, as always. However, make it a bit longer wouldn't hurt. $50.

Rated by Rucke

[Kinko Kabuki Koshi KaPOW~!]

Auto Eroticar

As me and Moretti arrived back at the dealership, with the russian's body in the trunk, I noticed that he had been giving me the cold shoulder all the way back from Middle Park. I realised I f*cked up, but I had never even attempted to kill anyone before, and my hand had slipped on the knife, plunging it into the russian's arm. If he wasn't going to forgive me for f*cking up my first killing, then I was gojng to make him forgive me. As I stepped through the doors leading to the office, I decided on what I was going to do. I turned right around, leaving Moretti on his own. I grabbed a nearby Micro-SMG, before walking across the forecourt. I hopped in the Sentinel, about to do something I should have done a long time ago.

I drove to the Hickey Bridge, knowing what I had to do. I bailed out of the car, leaving all evidence of the russians murder in the bottom of the West river, before taking out my cell phone. I punched in the number for the Alderney Cab office, and told them my location. Once there, I gave him my directions. "Firefly Projects, and step on it!" And all the way there, I thought about how much this family meant to me, and how much I wanted to be a member. I thought about how much the families hated the broker gangs usurping their drug money, and thinking about how much Moretti despised the Money Over Bullsh*t gang, and there little crack den over at the Firefly projects. Once I arrived, I was met by a member of the M.O.B, armed with a pump shotgun outside what I took to be the Crack Den. He asked me "What do you want, cracker?" and I didn't reply. I simply raised my micro SMG before unloading a clip into his head, and picking up his shotgun. I raised my shotgun, wary of anyone trying to escape. And quickly took the gangsters cap, hiding my face with it, before booting the door of the crack den down, and shooting the man to my left with my shotgun, before rolling into cover and opening fire with my SMG. As I unleashed the clip into any members face that I saw, I uttered a fatal slip of the tongue. "PAVANO FAMILY RULE THIS TOWN!" and as I looked up, I saw gangsters running to a PCJ 600 outside, obviously having heard what I had said. i hopped in a nearby sentinel, chasing them. I tailed them all the way to Bohan, through the traffic, over the Northwood heights bridge, and over the Hickey Bridge. I spotted police boats fishing the russians body out of the river, but now was not the time. They passed Auto Eroticar and my fears were confirmed. The gangster on the back of the PCJ had an assault rifle and opened fire at Moretti. He fell to the ground, clutching at his many gunshot wounds, and I took a mental note of the MOB members faces. I got out of my car and ran to Moretti, cradling his body in my arms. As he looked to be fading, he uttered a single word..."Kill"

[Ciabatta]

Chapter 3: Anton Lutrova


Ilya entered the apartment building after being buzzed in by Anton. The building was slightly nicer than Amir’s hole-in-the-wall yet it didn’t look much better. Ilya climbed the concrete stairs, which sat a few feet away from the metal door that led out into the streets of Broker. The apartment building was a huge contrast to the bright dawn that was opening up to Liberty City. Outside was sunny with people milling about heading to their jobs by foot or by cab, the morning people smiling, sipping their lattes, and chatting to whoever was on the other end of the line on their mobile phones. Inside the apartment building was cold and dim, with a handful of people trying to exit the building via the stairs. All of them had the same cold look on their face with droopy eyes, some smelling of alcohol from an early celebration of the weekend on a Thursday.

Ilya got to the second floor and made his way down the hall, one of the lights was flickering above. It was almost as if someone put a strobe light out in the hallway. It lighted up as Ilya made his way down the hall stopping and starting his motion of walking. He finally got under the next light, one with a strong bulb. The flickering was still shining at his back. He looked at the rooms on the right, looking for 217.

“213, 215…2-1-7.” He could hear the blare of Anton’s television as he got closer to the door.

He slammed his fist into the door three times so Anton could hear over the TV. Ilya could make out the voices that were playing out. It was the morning edition of Weazel News.

“Hold on, hold on!” He heard Anton’s voice. The television got quieter.

The door flung open, Anton stood at the door with nothing but a wife-beater and his underwear on, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. His jet-black hair was all over the place, there were bags underneath his eyes and scruff on his face. His eyes were bloodshot red and half-open. He looked at Ilya who was only half-ready for this certain Friday, looking hungover still and reeking of gin.

“And this is what the cat dragged in.” Anton said, he stepped away from the door and headed into back into his apartment.

Ilya followed and closed the door behind him. Anton’s apartment was a freshly painted beige colors with little furniture and little appliances. He had one love seat that ran perpendicular to Anton’s couch, which sat opposite his flat-screen plasma television set. His tile kitchen was equipped with a microwave, a stove, and a refrigerator-all of the appliances looking as if they were from the 60s or 70s. A small table and two chairs made up the dining room, which sat a little ways from the TV and out of the kitchen. The apartment reeked of cigarettes. Yet with little accessories, little decoration and the lingering smell of tobacco, Anton’s place still looked like a palace compared to Amir Tikvah’s hellhole brothel.

Anton sat down at the couch and took a drag from his cigarette. Ilya followed in his direction and took a seat at the closest spot next to the couch on the loveseat. He folded his hands and then looked at Anton.

“You drink last night?” Ilya asked Anton as Anton gave a blank, tired stare at the TV.

“Yeah,” He took the cigarette from his mouth and smashed it into the ashtray. “As always. With friends.”

“Why not Comrades?” Ilya asked.

“I had business with some people from the docks. I drink with them you know. No big deal.” Anton said as he put the ashtray back onto the red shag carpet that encompassed his whole living space.

“I know, I know. You come tonight, then?” Ilya asked.

“Yeah I come tonight, my friend.” Anton paused, looked down at the carpet and then back up at Ilya through a haze of alcohol and smoke. “The girls?”

“Oh yes,” Ilya reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He grabbed the polaroids inside the billfold and threw them at Anton.

Anton picked up the pictures and studied them both. He looked at the curves and features of each woman carefully as if he was an art critic was evaluating the curves and lines of a painter.

“Esther and Chaya, eh? And where are these goirls? And if we find them are they willing…to…um…work?”

“Amir told me last night that everything was done. All I had to do was talk with you and see if this was ok. Then I call him back you pick up the girls where they want to meet in Tel Aviv and it is done. Then we sit back and make money.” Ilya reassured Anton. Anton threw the pictures back at Ilya.

“Ilya, it costs money for merchandise. You know this. Everyone in whole Bratva knows.”

“I know, I know. How much? I cover it for us.”

“I’ll see today. This is all?” Anton asked, he got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“Yes.” Ilya replied quickly.

“Then I will call you when I find out what I know. You deliver money to me at docks; I pay who I need to. Then Amir gets his goirls.” Anton reached at his carton of milk and started drinking from the carton.

“What do we get from Tikvah?” Anton asked his associate as he took the carton away from his mouth.

“More money,” Ilya smiled. “He says he has top client who wants something…exotic. He’ll pay top dollar, Amir says. Not like Merilyn.”

“Ha.” Anton laughed at the joke and put the carton back to his lips and drank. He put the cap back on the carton and placed it back inside the refrigerator. “Consider it done, my friend. I’ll call you when I talk to the dock people.”

[wiIIiam]

-

[Rucke]

QUOTE (zavier @ May 28 2009, 04:48)

Is it okay if I use Albert Lawson for my stories? I plan on him being the main protagonist. Also, maybe I could help add some gangs? I could just PM one of you the info I have on the gang (like, Uptown Riders for instance). If that's OK, ofcourse.

Yeah Albert Lawson only appear in the police database so that's okay.

Sure about the gang. What we need his to know is what kind of vehicles they use plus front business or places they hang around.

[Kinko Kabuki Koshi KaPOW~!]

The Uptown Riders tend to use Bati 800s and Double T's from what I've seen.

[El Zilcho]

Gangs I think are in the works are the Ancelotti Family and the Uptown Riders. However, we've got the info we need, and as helpful you are, I don't think we'll need too many suggestions regarding the new additions. However, feel free to voice them anyway.

[Tyla]

The Ancelotti's have a lot of potential for locale. There's the plant in Northwood used in Actions speak louder than words. It strikes me as a Waste Management plant - maybe you could call it Ancelotti Sanitation?

Another location could be Colosseum Butchers in Little Italy. It's on "Brown Place" in Little Italy.

And there's Prestamo's Pawn Star Cash Loans - located in Suffolk on Emerald St. What do you reckon, guys?

[radicell]

And the waste management plant underneath the Algonquin Bridge on Colony Island... Packie mentioned it as being an Ancelotti place.

[vinnygorgeous]

Also the building where Ancelotti capo Tony Black meets Albanian muscle in Little Italy (you plant a car bomb to detonate when they return from the sit down.) It is behind a restaurant, its name is not clear the signs say 'Ristorante' on a vertical sign. Then 'Pasta Pizza' on the shop horizontal sign, it is on Feldspar street next to the alley opposite Raunch.

Old Man Ancelottis home, his neighbours are in the family too, when you meet Gracie as a random character, Ancelottis come at you from the immediate neighbours on both sides.

[ScratchCard]

I'm out. Please remove me.

Thanks.

[El Zilcho]

QUOTE (ScratchCard @ May 28 2009, 12:25)

I'm out. Please remove me. Thanks.

If this is the kind of commitment you have, it ridiculous. You sign up, rush your Bratva stories until they are barely decent. Then you do some Triad stories, rush them so you can switch and be a part of the Albanians, and then you quit? Should you leave now, I won't be signing you back in if you have a change of heart; mark my words.

[ScratchCard]

QUOTE (El Zilcho @ May 28 2009, 13:46)

QUOTE (ScratchCard @ May 28 2009, 12:25) I'm out. Please remove me. Thanks. If this is the kind of commitment you have, it ridiculous. You sign up, rush your Bratva stories until they are barely decent. Then you do some Triad stories, rush them so you can switch and be a part of the Albanians, and then you quit? Should you leave now, I won't be signing you back in if you have a change of heart; mark my words.

I thought writing stories was fun, turns out it wasn't. I thought switching to another gang would make it fun, turns out it didn't.

[radicell]

Another idea for a location. During the mission 'Harboring a Grudge', that warehouse that Packie takes Niko to rob was infested with Triad members. Perhaps a new location for the Triads at Fishmarket South Warehouse?