BUYG: Build Up Your Gang IV
Posted 10 June 2009 - 07:59 PM
Chapter 5: Explosive meetings
It was a chilly night, even though it was in the middle of the summer. I pulled up a cigarette from my jeans pocket. I remembered when I was little and used to watch people smoke cigarettes. It always looked like they got worm inside their body by smoking. I pulled up another cigarette and gave it to Jesús Morales who was shivering next to me. Jesús pulled the cigarette into his mouth and reached for his Zippo lighter. When we both had lighted our cigarettes, a black Patriot car showed up and three black guys got out. They were the buyers of the Marijuana we bought from Dwayne Forge last week. Jesús opened the backdoor of his car and grabbed a briefcase in which the Marijuana was loaded into. The three black guys approached us and one of them was also holding in a briefcase.
"That's our buyers, keep a cool head and everything should be fine." Jesús told me.
"You know me man, I'm 100% cool 100% of the time." I said.
"Jesús, Ramón, you got our stuff?" The guy who was holding in the briefcase asked once they had approached us.
"28 grams of first class Marijuana amigo." Jesús said and showed them the inside of the briefcase. "What about the money?" He then asked.
"$240, used." The black guys said and handed over the briefcase to me while Jesús handed over our briefcase to one of them.
When we had exchanged briefcases with each other and got back to our respective cars, a gunshot was heard, then another one. All of a sudden a bunch of Latino-looking guys, all armed with automatic weapons started to ambush us. Jesús and me, together with the black guys tried to defend ourselves with keep shooting back on them. Although we all were badly armed we managed to hit some of them. Jesús signalled to me to follow him back to the car. We ran as fast we could and tried not to get hit by the bullets. When I looked back I could see how one of the black guys got shot. Finally me and Jesús managed to get back to the car. Just when Jesús was about to open the door, one of the Latino guys sneaked up behind him and shot him three times in the back. Jesús fell to the ground without a word. Blood from Jesús was all over my face and every second felt like a ten minutes time. However I managed to get a hold of my gun, point it at the Latino guy and pull the trigger. I shot him about six times in the chest and very soon he fell down next to Jesús. I got in the car and got away before I was killed myself. While I droved away I couldn't stop wondering who set us up. Who was so stupid that they killed the kid brother of the leader of the Spanish Lords? I knew what I had to do, I had to drive to Santos and tell him about his brother. If people thought he was paranoid before it was nothing compared to what he was going to be after hearing these news.
"They just showed up from nowhere boss. Armed with automatic weapons and everything, we didn't have a chance." I explained for Santos the same night.
"Latinos you said? It's that f*cking José Torres!" Santos yelled in rage.
"What make you say that?" I asked.
"Who else? Here in Bohan we are only two Latino gangs, the Spanish Lords and the Torres Cartel. And don't tell me it could have been one of our own guys, because who would kill the brother of their leader? Answer me Ramón!" Santos kept on yelling.
"But why would José Torres attack us? It doesn’t make sense, Santos." Hector, who also was present at the meeting said.
"Maybe that cheap puta knew about our plan. The plan about taking him and the Bagello brothers out for good." Santos said and snorted a line of coke in front of him at the table. "Let's take them all out and we'll be done with it!" He then said.
"Come on Santos, what good would that make us? We don't even now if it's José who is behind the attack. I say we keep working with him and the Bagello brothers, maybe we'll find out more. Entiende?" I asked Santos who now was staring right into the air. "I got a meeting with the Bagello brothers tomorrow, maybe they know something." I said after getting no response from Santos.
Santos was starting to lose it. Go to war with the other gangs of Bohan would be the end of the Spanish Lords, even I knew that. The real question was where my loyality was at. It was raining so much that I had to put on my windscreen wiper. While I droved to La Violetto I couldn't stop thinking about this. I had sworn my loyalty to Santos when I joined the gang, but he wasn't healthy for us. When I reached La Violetto I noticed that between Tommy Bagello's Washington car and Giorgio Bagello's Turismo, a black Cavalcade was parked. When I got closer I could read "JOSEDAKING" on the license plate. Seemed like José Torres was here too. When I got inside La Violetto I noticed Tommy, Giorgio and José at one of the tables. They were all eating some kind of pasta dish.
"Ramón, come and sit down my friend!" Tommy greeted my once I came inside the door.
"Hey Ramón, you know that guy we beat up at the gym? He pays double protection money now, all thanks to you." Giorgio said once I took a seat.
"I believe you already have met José Torres?" Tommy asked.
"Yeah, me and my guys helped him to steal that shipment from the Dominicans." I said.
"I'm very sorry about what happened to Santos’ kid brother Jesús. We all know how much he loved him." José said.
"Well, I actually have to tell you that he is getting more and more paranoid. I can't say much more than that."
"Does that mean that we are in some kind of danger?" José asked.
"Maybe." I said to give José and the Bagello brothers a warning without saying too much.
"Alright, if you ever feel like telling us more, you know where to find us." Tommy said. "Right now we need some help from you. You see that fat f*ck sitting in the bar?" Tommy asked and pointed at a fat Italian looking man at the bar. "We call him Fat Freddie Jaconelli, he works for us. Fat Freddie is soon heading to a sit-down with the Gambetti Family, however we think he's ratting us out. While he's at the sit-down, plant a bomb under is car and detonate it when he gets out. That should send the Gambetti's a message." Tommy explained.
"Where do I get hold of a car bomb?" I asked.
"We left one outside your car." Tommy responded.
When I got out I noticed that someone had left a big bag right outside my car. I felt on it and it was really heavy. I had no idea how to plant a car bomb, but I knew Tony did. I called him, and after about 5 minutes he showed up. He helped my carry the bag inside the car. Then we both got inside and waited for Fat Freddie to get out of the restaurant.
"Car bombs are like remote controlled toys. It should be fun amigo." Tony said while we waited inside the car.
After a little while Fat Freddie got out from the restaurant. He hurried inside his black Emperor car to avoid getting all wet by the rain. He started the engine and headed away from La Violetto. Tony and me followed him with a decent distance. We followed him through Bohan Industrial and finally out on the bridge that led to north Dukes. It was the first time I had been to Dukes since I got here. And it actually didn’t look very much better than Bohan. Fat Freddie stopped his car outside a place called Johnny's Tavern and got inside the place. Tony and me planted the car bomb under his car while he was inside. When we were done we got back into my car and waited for Fat Freddie to get out.
"So when he gets out we just have to press this red button here, and then BANG!" Tony laughed.
"I hope you're right, because otherwise we have to shoot him, and I'm not even armed." I said to Tony.
"Here he comes." Tony said and pointed at Fat Freddie.
Fat Freddie slowly walked towards his car. He opened the door and started the engine. Tony pressed the red button on the remote control, and just like he said the car exploded with a BANG. I stepped on it and got out of there before the Gambetti guys got from the tavern.
New chapter coming soon...
Posted 10 June 2009 - 08:31 PM
Nice story Rucke.
Posted 10 June 2009 - 08:48 PM
|QUOTE (Jam And Butter @ Jun 10 2009, 21:31)|
| How do you get drug facilities and what do they do on here?|
Nice story Rucke.
We don't got drug facilities here in BUYG IV. However, we do in BUYG SA http://www.gtaforums...pic=372561&st=0
What they do? You buy a drug lab and it will make you money.
Posted 10 June 2009 - 10:26 PM
Posted 11 June 2009 - 02:53 AM Edited by aragond, 12 June 2009 - 06:43 AM.
|QUOTE (Masterkraft @ Jun 8 2009, 23:49)|
Indeed. I appreciate that staff ratings can be slow and we apologise, but the page looks cluttered when 3 or 4 chapters from the same author appear in a row. There's nothing stopping you writing 5 or even 10 chapters at a time, but then you could post one and save the rest.
Now, hang on. If that's so, why has a staff member (Rucke) just posted a second story since the last ratings? (Albethat two weeks ago.)
So, the rule really is "don't clog the thread with multiple stories on the SAME forum page." Right?
No, that's a swipe at no one! I'm just trying to make it all make sense.
Addendum: Read somewhere else, amidst the thread that the rule is no more than one post per writer per day. That also sounds reasonable.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 06:23 AM
If the BUYG will allow, I will like to volunteer to rate the stories.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 06:51 AM
Location: The Airport
James - Owns all the Hotdog Stands
Patrick - Son of James
Elmo - From Sesame Street
Crack-Slut - Special Character
Elmo: Hey patrick, i would like a hoe-dog.
Patrick: Yes sir, he is your.. hey wait a minute, did YOU say hoe-dog?
Elmo: Oh how silly of me =D I meant to say hotdog.
Patrick: Here you are Elmo (hands Elmo his dog).
*James comes back to take over from Pat*
James: Pat how are you son.
Patrick: Good pa, just served Elmo a dog.
Elmo: Hey James, what's been doing?
James: Cashin checks and breaking necks, getting paid then getting laid. when the bitches come talkin i keep on walkin'.
Elmo: Word motherf*cker.
Patrick: Hey, Hey! Theirs ladies present.
*Pat points to some hoe-downs smokin crack*
James: LOL, STFU son.
Elmo: So Jimmy, do i have a deal for you.
Patrick: FFS, Elmo f*ck off dad has been beatinthis sh*t for weeks.
Elmo: Yeah, like beating his meat.
*James, Patrick and Elmoall start laughing for a long 2 minutes, finding it hard to breathe*
James: Elmo, you are one funny mother f*cker, too bad big bird isn't here.
*Patrick shows a shocked face, while Elmo shows rage in his pupils, his gorgeous red hair starts to glow and his teeth start to glare*
Elmo: Did you say.. Big Bird?
Patrick: N..No he said big.. big TURD didn't you dad!?
James: Yeah big turd.. yeah um.. that bitch over their looks like a big turd.
*The cracked up hoe-down overhears James and walks on over, Elmo still not completely convinced but keeps his mouth closed to see what this bitch has to say*
Crack-Slut: Whatch ya'l say'n bout mah dawg?
*James starts smiling. He always seems to smile at the most innapropriate times*
James: Bitch, you better not be starting on me, or i will shuv my dog in yo goddamn face.
Patrick: Holy f*ck dad shut up before you make Elmo cry.
Elmo: ? WTF Patrick?
Crack-Slut: Mind your manners fool, or ya'l be havin be crank up ya doorstep.
James: Um..okay slut watevs.
*The Crack-Slut pulls out a 9 and puts it between James face*
TO BE CONTINUED
Posted 11 June 2009 - 12:40 PM
Apologies it's been so long, all the staff are busy with it being the end of the school year. Thanks for bearing with us though, I'd pinch all of your cheeks if possible, but you'll have to settle with a slap on the arse.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 12:51 PM
Posted 11 June 2009 - 12:55 PM
|QUOTE (ScratchCard @ Jun 11 2009, 12:51)|
|@Sammya, I think you're missing the point of BUYG. You're supposed to join one of the gangs on the list in the first post, then choose a location, then write stories. Actual stories, not just dialogue.|
i did man, IMO it is the best story in the entire post.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 12:57 PM
|QUOTE (sammya @ Jun 11 2009, 13:55)|
i did man, IMO it is the best story in the entire post.
Not quite. the "Hot Dog Guys" aren't on the list. If you wish to participate, please choose a legitimate gang and location.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 01:08 PM
I think the hot dog stand one is the best. No question. . Somebody should make the Mrpregnant gang, the guys with the pans on their heads that wander LC.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 01:08 PM
Kinko Kabuki Koshi KaPOW~!: $34. Your idea was good, but the execution was poor. It was simply too short, and poorly described. Also, be sure to capitalize your proper nouns, such as "Russian" or "Sentinel".
Ciabatta: $48, a solid story, although a bit short on description. Micro-SMG purchased.
zavier: Yes, anyone can be your protagonist.
ScratchCard: Alright, see ya later. Oh wait, you're back!
vinnygorgeous: That was a nice mixture of writing elements, I enjoyed those chapters. $48 and $53, and grenades obtained. $100 bonus for a multiple of five story count.
Jam And Butter: 'Kay, you're in. Your first story earns $40. You started out all right, but then had a few technical errors. Also, you should never abbreviate words such as "sergeant" into "Sgt." in descriptive writing. The second part earns $39. It seemed rather rushed. You should never write "Ok". It should either be "OK" or "okay". Your third and fourth stories was definitely better than the others, $45 and $43 respectively.
mrpain: $43. It was quite short, and mostly filled with segments of I did this, I did that, I kicked him, I shot her... Perhaps next time, you could include more descriptive sentences, and lengthen each installment. And with the next story, the same advice. However, you had quite a long story with this one, so $47.
Ecc3ntrik: $42. A nice balance of description and dialogue. $100 bonus for the fifth story.
VinnieLeone: You've really improved since I first saw you on here, but your stories are still in a script form. I would advise to write in narrative form to earn more money. $44.
aragond: $46. Certainly a decent first story.
gt4rocks: You'll need to specify a property before we add you.
Rucke: Well, you're still flying high as always. I'll dish you $50 for that Chapter 4, and the marijuana is bought. $48 for the other chapter, and it seems that you have sold your mari.
Colt M14: $47.
Osric: Alright, sorry about that. You're back in.
sammya: It ain't. Either post properly, or leave. Don't spam with silly stuff like that.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 01:12 PM
Posted 11 June 2009 - 01:17 PM
|QUOTE (Masterkraft @ Jun 11 2009, 21:12)|
|Ah, marvelous! Ratings are taken care of. Just for reference radicell, what's left (if anything)?|
Don't think there's anything left! If there is, I'm sure aragond's gonna point it out.
Didn't see that you were planning to do the ratings, if I had, I'd have gladly let you!
Posted 11 June 2009 - 01:28 PM
|QUOTE (radicell @ Jun 11 2009, 14:17)|
|Didn't see that you were planning to do the ratings, if I had, I'd have gladly let you!|
Haha, don't worry about me mate... I'm sure it'll build up again! Seriously though, big thanks, maybe this will encourage more to write again. Note to self; don't let it get so bad again.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 03:22 PM Edited by Osric, 11 June 2009 - 03:30 PM.
Chapter I: Streets of Broker
It was in the air, it was in the cold air that blows no good. What do you ask? Corruption, greed, and sin. These things are at the heart of Liberty City. Crime is king in Liberty and I'm caught up in it. My name is Yuri Lodinova and I left Mother Russia for a better life and now I'm caught up in mob violence.
It was another day in Broker, poor immigrants were just trying to make a living, the homeless wandered the streets half-dead and ragged, and the Albanian criminals were doing their nine to five thing, y'know, dealing drugs, gunrunning, extortion, and selling their own mothers for ten bucks. I was making my way down the dingy gray street from my apartment on Mohawk Avenue to the 69th Street Diner. I had some business to take care of and thought I could use something to eat anyway.
I walked into the diner. It was just one of those little greasy spoons, with a 1950's design. The seats and tables were lined up along the windows neatly, the black and white chessboard pattern floor was freshly swabbed and gave it a nice shine. I looked across the tables for my boss Pyotr Smirnoff. Lo and behold, there he was at the end of the diner.
Pyotr was a very plain-looking man, in his mid-thirties, with brown hair and blue eyes. His complexion was fair and he was of average height and weight. He didn't look menacing, nor did he look weak. He always wore a polo shirt and khakis, always looking nice, but not too nice, unlike those Italian mobsters who paraded themselves in pinstriped suits and ties every day. He was a mid-level man in the syndicate, and I took orders from him. I sat down at the table.
"Yuri, nice to see you. How's things?" said Pyotr.
"Y'know, same as usual. Just trying to make it through the day, that's all. So, what seems to be the trouble?"
"Well, the Albanians have been giving us trouble. Despite our warnings, they've been dealing drugs here in Hove Beach. As you may know, ever since that crazy Serb killed Mikhail Faustin and Dimitri Rascalov, the syndicate's gotten out of the drug trade. It killed the Pavano and Pegorino Families, and it may destroy us. Besides, gunrunning and stolen merchandise is where it's all at. I got the call from Kenny, he wants all the Bratva lieutenants to get some good men to come over to the Petrovic Estate in Alderney for further instructions on the Albanian problem. Our men are getting assaulted by these Balkan scumbags and they've been dealing their poisons to women and children as well. It makes me sick. Anyway, I wanted you to come over because you may be young, but you're loyal and trustworthy."
The waitress came by and said "So, what can I get you gentlemen to drink?" I could tell by her accent she was Russian, she was young too, with light brown hair, bluish-green eyes, and a pale complexion. She was very beautiful and seemed nice.
Pyotr replied "I'll have some Sprunk, please."
I looked at her and said "I'll have me some sweet tea."
She wrote it down and went off. Pyotr turned to me and continued to speak.
"So, not only have the Albanians given us trouble, but so have their allies, the Triads. I hear it was the Triads who shot up the diamond deal between us and the Ancelotti Family. We don't know who, but I think it's that redneck punk Henry Wong. He's only been in the Triads for a few months and already he's doing good. Only reason I could think of a newbie being a mid-level guy in two months is jacking rare diamonds. The Ancelottis now no longer trust us and we are beginning to lose power and influence. We gotta do something. That's why Kenny is calling this meeting."
The waitress returned with our drinks. "Are you gentlemen ready to order yet?"
Pyotr replied "I'll have a cheeseburger and fries, that is all."
"What about you, sir?"
I replied "I'll just take a grilled chicken sandwich and some mozzarella sticks."
"Thank you sir and we'll have your orders soon."
"She seems nice, Pyotr. So, I know the Albanians are hostile to our interests and the Triads are in cahoots with them. But what of the Mafia families? What do the Italians think of us? I know we're at peace with the Ancelottis, but since Jon Gravelli died in his sleep and that crazy Serb killed Jimmy Pegorino and skipped town with his cousin's family, who knows how the Mafia's standing and what they are up to?"
I asked "What happened to Niko Bellic?"
Pyotr sighed and replied "Last I heard they were headed to Carcer City. I don't think the cops ever caught onto him or his activities. I mean, he did work with those micks up in Dukes. One of them's Deputy Police Commissioner, he had his brother, the infamous Gerry McReary, sprung out of prison on a plea bargain in his appeal, and that was after he had that sack of sh*t Derrick McReary whacked. Francis McReary is very unique, he'll spring the one brother out of a life sentence and have the other killed brutally. As for Derrick, nobody knows who killed that junkie mick, but I think it was that Serb maniac."
"And the Mafia?"
"Well, word on the street says the Gambetti Family has a new boss, a Sicilian-born man named Franco Gambetti, and apparently, he's the grand nephew of Carlo Gambetti himself. He's revamping the family, making an alliance with Old Man Ancelotti and they're going old school. Y'know, like us. They're out of the drug trade and are trying to dominate the gambling and prostitution rackets in the city. If we can maintain the Ancelotti peace, we can get the Gambettis on our side. Don't know about the other Commission Families or the Pegorinos. But the Gambettis and Ancelottis could help us in a possible war with the Albanian gangs. Of course, we'd have to get the diamonds back from the Triads, but that's another issue altogether."
Our meals had been finished, they were good, better than usual. Pyotr paid the bill and left a hefty tip on the table.
He turned to me and said "Get in my car, we're going to Alderney. I'm gonna introduce you to the boss and we're going to handle the little Albanian issue."
We went out into the noisy hardtop parking lot. He walked me to his car, a jet black 2005 Rebla with a fresh coat of paint. It was nice and the blue plush interior looked nice. He led me into the car and we tuned into Pure Gold FM, the Oldies station that replaced Radio Broker. I never really liked that station, too much modern rock for my taste. I grew up on techno in my youth in Russia, but Pyotr got me into the music of the 60's and 70's. Never thought I would like it, but it was nice. Easier and more mellow than modern music or the music of Russia. We began to drive off to the meeting, ready for war....
Posted 11 June 2009 - 07:26 PM Edited by StrappedEnd, 11 June 2009 - 11:38 PM.
The North Holland Hustlers: Chapter 1: My Beginning
I, Trey Jacobs, grew up in the slums of Los Santos, San Andreas. My single mother just started her fourth job at the local movie theatre. It must have been the summer time because the neighborhood was loud with people outside enjoying the sun. I suppose everyone is wondering how I became a North Holland Hustlers. Well that summer i just turned 18 and decided that Liberty City had more opportunities than San Andreas and the shantys of Los Santos. My brother De'Vonn was a year younger and still wanted to go with me to move to the "Land of Opportunities". Two weeks before my big move my mom, Denise Jacobs, was driving to the bank to withdraw some money as a gift to me. Thats when my brother's and my lives changed drastically.
She was in line at one of the tellers. She did't trust the ATM machines and thats why she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Denise was third in line and was calmly whistling her favorite tune, or at least trying to, when she heard the doors slam open and five masked people entered the building with assault riffles in hand. As everyone dropped to the ground Denise decided to do something she never would have done before. When one of the masked robbers turned his back to her, she charged at him with a knife she kept in her purse for "just in case" situations. She lunged and stabed the robber right in the spine bringing him down and causeing another to look over in the general direction. The second robber quickly shot a short burst off from his riffle towards Denise. Only one round hit her in the stomach. She fell backwards to the floor. The robbers quickly got the money from the tellers and scurried out of the bank.
As the cops arrived they quickly ushered in the paramedics to take a look at Denise. They pronounced her dead on site. I'll never forget that moment when that officer knocked on that door. When i opened the door I could see the grief on his face. And I knew then that my brother would be accompanying me on my move to Bohan.
As my brother and I got off the plane we immidiatly wanted Mom to be there with us. We quickly waved a taxi over to our new appartment I found online.
"I miss Mom" said De'Vonn with tears in his eyes.
"I do too" I said.
A couple of weeks later De'Vonn decided to sit on the stoop. Little did he know that his world would soon be falling to pieces. A gangbanger slowly rolled by in his classic low rider. Several shots rang out from what sounded like a machine gun. And in an instant De'Vonn was laying, clutching his chest where he was shot. Someone yelled for help and i came rushing out to see my brother, 17 years of age, not even out of school yet, bleeding out from a gunshot from a gangbanger we didn't even know.
My eyes grew huge as i saw the pool of blood. I quickly call the paramedics and impatiently waited for them to arrive and rescue my brother from the clutches of death. The sped around the corner sirens blazing. Both of them hopped out with another paramedic pulling a stretcher over to the appartment. They tried their best but couldn't help him. De'Vonn was already dead. In a matter of a month I lost my mother and my brother to random murderers. That is when i met Danny Granger the boss of the North Holland Hustlers.
"Don't worry son, you'll get your revenge soon enough" Danny assured me. "That punk that killed your brother was apart of the Spanish Lords." he told me.
I looked at him with a confused stare. " The Spanish Lords? Who the hell are the Spanish Lords?!" I yelled at Danny.
" The Spanish Lords are the sole rival of the Hustlers. A bunch of Hispanic scumbags." Danny answered.
I now had a furious look on my face. "I'm gonna kill those bast*rds for what the did!" I mumbled.
"Don't worry son, their time will come" said Danny in a calm voice, "Their time will come".
Posted 11 June 2009 - 07:30 PM
|QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ Jun 11 2009, 14:08)|
| $48 for the other chapter, and it seems that you have sold your mari.|
Yeah that's right. I forgot to add that I sold it.
Posted 11 June 2009 - 08:14 PM Edited by Osric, 11 June 2009 - 11:35 PM.
So, what's the news on the Ancelotti Family?
Posted 11 June 2009 - 10:11 PM
Posted 12 June 2009 - 01:22 AM
|Colt M14: $47.|
Why no description? Meh.
Wow, guys... Over 1000 posts... Congats.
Posted 12 June 2009 - 05:42 AM
|QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ Jun 11 2009, 13:08)|
| sammya: It isn't, fa**ot. Either post properly, or leave a dog a bone. Don't spam with f*ck up stuff like that.|
listen lady, i am just giving the people what they want
now ladies, if you want me to continue this horrific story then please let me, if not then shower me with your criticisms
Posted 12 June 2009 - 05:56 AM
|Sucking d*ck has never been so fun - Jesus, 27 A.D.|
Hey dude... Can you leave. AND NEVER COME BACK. Seriously heaps of people find the things you say offensive. And I personally think you should be banned. Just my opinion though.
Posted 12 June 2009 - 07:05 AM
|QUOTE (Build Up Your Gang @ Jun 11 2009, 23:08)|
|ScratchCard: Alright, see ya later. Oh wait, you're back!|
|QUOTE (Colt M14 @ Jun 12 2009, 11:22)|
|Wow, guys... Over 1000 posts... Congats.|
Yeah, I concur! A sterling effort from both the prolific authors and staff who've attracted us all, for one, and secondly had to rate, by my count -- oh, didn't you just KNOW aragond was gonna pull this! -- 333 stories over the past 1,000 posts!
THAT is impressive work. Gratz to all!
|QUOTE (radicell @ Jun 11 2009, 23:17)|
Don't think there's anything left! If there is, I'm sure aragond's gonna point it out.
You better believe it! But, no, there wasn't, afaict.
There is a troll in the room. Don't look at him.
Posted 12 June 2009 - 07:50 PM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 12 June 2009 - 07:52 PM.
Osric: Whoa! Very nice first chapter you got there. I know you have been writing here before, but still. I loved your character description too! Keep these kinds of stories coming $45.
Pump-action shotgun and Molotovs bought.
StrappedEnd: That was a great first chapter too. You are not bad at all. Usually new arrivals start off with short chapters with poor description, but not you. Very good chapter, keep 'em coming! $43.
Rated by Rucke
Posted 12 June 2009 - 08:30 PM
Chapter II: Kenny's Called A Meeting
Liberty City, Sunset. After hours of busy, headache-inducing traffic in Algonquin, we finally reached Alderney, a New Jersey suburb of Liberty City. If it weren't for the oldies, I'd go insane with the slow, boring, noisy traffic. Alderney was more spacious compared to dingy old Broker, and the suburban estates of Tudor were quite nice, especially compared to my ratty apartment on Mohawk Avenue. Pyotr pointed ahead. "There's the Petrovic Mansion."
The house was beautiful, it looked like a minature version of the old Romanov palaces in my native St. Petersburg, with fine blue tile roofs, white marble walls, and Greek-style columns. So magnificent, and yet so intimidating. Pyotr parked his car over by the gate and led me through the palace courtyard. The doors threw open to reveal a wonderous main hall. Marble floors, silver and crystal chandeliers, fine oriental carpets, and mahogany stairs and railings. This was the house truly fit for a man as powerful and successful as Kenny Petrovic. I saw some other men in suits and ties standing in the corner talking. They wore cheaper dress clothes, the kind from Wal-Mart or some other retail store, rather than the fine tailor shop suits that the Italian gangsters wore. I couldn't make out everything they said, but it was in Russian, and I could make out these words....
So, what are we going to do?
I don't know, these Balkan scum mean business!
How will we make our money with the drug and slave trades banned?
Then came a woman in her mid-thirties. A fair woman named Illyena Petrovic, formerly Illyena Faustin, she was the wife of former Bratva boss Mikhail Faustin, who was killed by the Serbian hitman Niko Bellic. Following the death of Dimitri Rascalov, Mikhail's successor, she finally married the more honorable and kinder Kenneth Petrovic, a Russian-American mob boss more akin to the old Irish and Italian gangsters of the 40's and 50's. Word was that she convinced Kenny to stop the drug trade within the Bratva. She said in her soft voice "Everybody, could I have your attention for the moment. Mr. Petrovic wants all of his guests to meet him in the living room over on the second floor. Come up the stairs and follow me. This way." as she pointed to the right of her.
Following Pyotr, I continued down the hall. The fine art, the decorative overhead lamps, and the soft white walls, they amazed me. Never had I seen such a fine interior. Into the living room of the second floor we went into. The interior was grand, a marble fireplace, luxurious red sofas, and mahogany coffee tables were all so wonderful. I sat on the sofa next to Pyotr. In walked a man in a fine black suit, with a crimson tie and a silver shirt. This man was Kenneth Petrovic, Pakhan of the Petrovic Bratva. He was a tall man, in his mid-forties, with dark gray hair and pale gray eyes. A man who impressed me and seemed so gentlemanly. He stood up and spoke.
"As you may know, we are out of the narcotics trade. It brings unwanted attention and the penalties under RICO are much heavier than any other criminal enterprise. If our gambling parlors are shut down, then we simply lose that one parlor and may get fined or imprisoned for a short time. But if our drug enterprises were shut down, we'd lose not only the drugs and the money, but lose our houses, our cars, our families, and our lives. Plus, it has turned our neighborhoods from normal immigrant communities into things from Dante's Hell. It poisons men, women, and children, and drives them into primal creatures, raging and lusting for their next fix. Listen, the Albanians are continuing to distribute the drugs despite our requests to stop. They have attacked our men and businesses. Recently, they torched a warehouse owned by our men. My wife and I have both seen what drugs have done, it has turned her first husband into a raving lunatic and led to the death of my son Lenny. Now we must stop these Balkan hoodlums. There's a new high on the street, goes by the name of SPANK. It comes in from Carcer City and then the Albanians start distributing it. It's expensive, but is much more potent than any drug I've ever seen. We must shut the flow off at the source before we attack the Albanians. They've made a killing from pushing all that SPANK crap, they have more guns and manpower than we do. If we go toe-to-toe, they'll wipe the floor with us. But we must cut off their source of power. The SPANK comes in from the Alderney County railyards, and we need some good men to help out. I'll place Pyotr Smirnoff and Boris Kazner in charge of this. They are my most trusted lieutenants. Bring anyone you want."
Pyotr stood up and replied "Mr. Petrovic, I will gladly take this job. I got just the guy to do it. He's a new guy, but he's trustworthy. Yuri Lodinova's his name."
I blushed out of nervousness. Me? I had no experience! How could I be trusted with such a job?
Petrovic continued. "Boris, who you bringing?"
A tall, muscular, menacing-looking man stood up. "I will bring my enforcers, Vlad and Ivan, to the railyards. When do you want to strike?"
"Tomorrow night. Be careful not to attract too much attention. Thanks for all of you for coming tonight, you are dismissed. Head on home and drive safely."
I sighed out of relief. For a mobster, Kenny Petrovic seemed like a true gentleman, more of an entrepeneur rather than a criminal. But appearances could be decieving. Now it was time to head on home. We went to the car and continued our long trek back to Broker.
Posted 12 June 2009 - 11:30 PM
Life wasn't the same by myself. It seemed weird not picking on De'Vonn. My Mom's death was a painful blow but De'Vonn's was like an knock out punch or a kick in the side while you're down. I turned to a life of sex, drugs, and alcohol just to get through everyday life. Hell come to think of it the last time I was sober was the day De'Vonn died.
"Initiation is today. You ready Trey" yawned Libby, some blonde bimbo who needed drugs and I needed sex.
"Not really, baby" I said with my eyes half closed.
"You better hurry it's already nine in the morning." she replied.
"Sh*t! I'm gonna be late." I said.
I rolled out of bed still high and still drunk from last nights rampage of the usuall cr*p. I rushed out the door putting my hammy down Air Jordans on and rushing to my new yet sh*tty Faction. The stupid thing cost me five grand and it barely ran.
Initiation is a ritual the Hustlers go through. Everyone who wants to join has to be able to take some pain. And by pain I mean a beating by sis other members until you bleed. I arrived to see twenty gangbangers sporting everything light blue, bandanas, shirts, hats, and shoes. I parked my car on the side of the street and grabed a bottle from the glove box. I took the cap off and took a swig of whatever it was. I got out and as soon as I did Danny saw me and yelled from across the little lake in the Boulevard district, "Hey, whats up playa? ready for your initiation?"
I said with a look on my face that i could kill anyone. "Anything that gets me closer to killing those scumbags."
"Don't worry man it will come." Danny answered in a calm voice as i reached the group. Most of them made a circle around me and six of the Hustlers that are supposed to beat me to a bloody pulp. All of a sudden i felt a right hook connect to my temple and immediatly I had a flash of sharp pain down from my neck all the way down to my feet, my knees gave out as i took a punch to the stomach that could knock down an elephant. On my knees i took a kick right to my face, I could taste my blood but they weren't stopping. I got another kick but this time it was in the middle of my back and as the shot connected i could hear Danny shout "Stop! Stop!" and they did. Danny extended a hand to me and I grabed it and he helped me get back up to my feet.
"How does it feel gangsta, how does it feel to be a Hustler?" Danny asked with a sadistic smile on his face.
"Better than when De'Vonn died..." I answered before a hail of gunfire rained on our parade.
"It's the f*cking Lords! Shoot 'em!" shouted Danny at the top of his lungs.
Bullets were flying past my head and one of them struck someone as i heard a scream of pain behind me but I didn' look back, I couldn't. I knew it would both bring up De'Vonn and my mom, and of course i couldnt turn my back on those scumbags and not get shot as they drove by. As i shot my SMG I saw one of their guys get hit and fall out of the car window he was sitting on.
In as fast as it began, it ended.
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