The Lost and Damned
The Ballad of Gay Tony
BUYG: Build Up Your Gang IV
Posted 07 July 2009 - 04:32 PM
And thanks Tyla, although I don't think mine can be as good as yours. I'm trying to learn to put good description and all that, but that's just one problem, as I'm running out of ideas for stories. :-/
Posted 07 July 2009 - 09:34 PM
(Two weeks after chapter 1)
Ruslan was working out at Hove's x5000 Body Building. He tried to get there at least three times a week. Having a good body shape was an important thing in Ruslan's business. A big body gained respect when you had to threat a store owner or lean on a guy who owed you money. Ruslan was working out together with Igor, who also was considered as a work out freak. However, Igor mostly worked on his biceps. Ruslan figured he was more interested in charming the ladies than actually get strong. Right now Ruslan was using Leverage System. While he did, he noticed a new guy at the gym. The guy was Latino-looking and a body builder in about the same size as Igor. Ruslan found it strange that he worked out at Hove's x5000 since it was a popular hangout for Russians. In Liberty City, Russian and Latino gangster hated each other. It had something to do with a war a couple of years back, even before Ruslan came to Liberty City. Ruslan wondered if the Latino was looking for trouble. Josef, the gyms owner heated none-Russian people, especially Latinos. Josef faced the Latino with an angry look.
"Hey slimeball, we don't like your kind here. Get out of my gym before I teach you a lesson." Ruslan could hear Josef say.
Ruslan and Igor figured they would try to calm down Josef before things went really bad. Before they were able to do so the Latino guy punched Josef in the stomach. Josef, who probably was hooked up on steroids became even angrier and attacked the Latino with everything he got. He managed to punch the Latino a couple of times. The Latino was fast and avoided many of the punches. When Josef was all out of breath, the Latino grabbed him and gave him three hard punches against the chest. Josef fell down on the floor. Ruslan knew he had to do something; he couldn't just let some spick disrespect the gym. Then he got an idea. Boris was in immediate need of a new bouncer at the Perestroika club. The Latino seemed to be the perfect guy.
"Hey, you! What's your name?" Ruslan asked the Latino.
"José Juan Ramirez, but my friends call me JJ or just Ramirez." The Latino answered while he wiped the sweat of his face.
"My friend, you got two options. Either I kill you here and now for what you did, or you can work for me."
"Second option seems better, I know who you are and I don't f*ck with Russian gangsters."
"Come with me. I got a work for you."
Igor grabbed Ramirez's and dragged him down to Ruslan's car. Ruslan started the engine and headed away. A small porno studio that usually paid protection to Ruslan had suddenly stopped. The studio was also a racket, which was used by Ruslan and his guys as a bordello. Girls were smuggled from Russia and other parts of East Europe to work in the bordello. They were barely allowed to leave. If they did they always had a couple of guys behind them that was making sure they didn’t escape. If a girl tried to escape she was usually brutally killed by either Ruslan or some of the other guys. At least half of Ruslan's income came from that bordello. On the way over there Ruslan called this new guy, Viktor and told him to come. Viktor had been here for two weeks now and he was already one of Boris' biggest earners. Ruslan remembered when he, Boris and Viktor's father was in the army. Viktor's father always used to collect expensive possessions from fallen victims and give it to their commander. It seemed like the loyalty and the effective earning had passed on to his son. Outside the bordello Viktor was already waiting.
Viktor had just got a phone call from Ruslan. He, Igor and some Latino they had picked up at the gym were on their way to the bordello. Apparently the owner didn't pay anymore protection to Ruslan. Since Viktor was working under Ruslan, he had to help. It was hard working for a guy Viktor know he had to kill. Just like Viktor, Ruslan was an effective earner, too effective in Boris' eyes. Ruslan's car stopped next to Viktor who was waiting outside the bordello. Ruslan, Igor and the Latino got out. Ruslan introduced the Latino to Viktor.
"Viktor, meet JJ Ramirez. He will be working under us as an enforcer and bouncer at Perestroika."
Nice to meet you. I hope you don't get any problems with cracking some skulls?" Viktor said and laughed.
"Nah it's cool. I used to work as an enforcer for my former crew." Ramirez said and polished his fist.
Inside the bordello the manager was sitting behind his desk, counting his money. He had two guys guarding him. The bordello contained a few rooms where all the fun took place, plus the office. Viktor, Ruslan, Igor and Ramirez stormed inside the office. Ruslan and Igor started to beat up one of the guards while Ramirez took care of the other one. Viktor himself took care of the manager. He pulled up his gun and pointed it at the manager’s leg. He pulled the trigger and the manager started to scream like a pig. Viktor pointed the gun at the manager’s kneecap and shot him again. The manager started to scream even more.
"From now on you pay Mr. Boris Gregorsky whenever he wants. Maybe you have forgotten that Hove Beach is his neighborhood?" Viktor said and punched the manager over the face.
THE END OF CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3 COMING SOON
Posted 08 July 2009 - 12:19 PM
Petrovic Bratva Perestroika chapter two
Not one of your best but still decent enough. You maintained a good balance between description and dialogue, there were a few errors but nothing too major.
Pegorino Crime Family Honkers chapter two
You've carefully sourced your characters from information in the game which adds an enjoyable layer of depth, I look forward to seeing how you join up the dots and get them where they need to be for the Niko timeline. Another ever so slight point is punctuating before the passage of speech with a comma.
Eg: Phil threw his arm around Gerald's back,"C'mon, let's get to the spot."
Edit: vinnygorgeous chapter one still needs rating
Rated by Vinny
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 26 July 2009 - 04:40 PM.
Posted 08 July 2009 - 07:19 PM
I enjoyed reading this very much. Little bits of detail made the story come to life and paint a very vivid picture in my mind.
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 09 July 2009 - 02:22 AM.
Posted 09 July 2009 - 06:05 PM
We finally get to see Russian mob boss, Boris Gregorsky. Boris tells Ruslan and Viktor that he is preparing a robbery together with Ancelotti capo Joe Mandolini. Boris wants Ruslan to go and meet with Joe. Meanwhile, Viktor gets a call from the brothel. One of the girls have escaped. Viktor needs to find and kill the girl before she goes to the police. Unfortanetly for him, Ruslan have also got the call. Both tries to find the girl first to impress Boris.
Posted 14 July 2009 - 04:00 PM
No data (story) loss!!
Although, I was meaning to ask this before certain HDD crashes, R', what's with the above post? Not a full story? An "I'll be back"??
Posted 15 July 2009 - 09:19 AM
|QUOTE (aragond @ Jul 14 2009, 17:00)|
No data (story) loss!!
Although, I was meaning to ask this before certain HDD crashes, R', what's with the above post? Not a full story? An "I'll be back"??
I'm writing chapter 3 right now. The above post was not a story, just some short info about what's going to happened.
Posted 15 July 2009 - 09:45 AM
|QUOTE (Pr0xy_fl00d3r @ May 2 2009, 01:45)|
|Please, refrain from using those posts, it makes it harder for staff members to rate stories beneath all of the "Im posting one later", "Im not inactive, Im just suffering from writers block" esque posts. When you are ready to post a finished story, post it, until then, refrain from those posts.|
I think Aragond was just remembering this post
Posted 15 July 2009 - 10:06 AM
|QUOTE (vinnygorgeous @ Jul 15 2009, 10:45)|
I think Aragond was just remembering this post
Well, like I said: That was no story, nor a writers block excuse. Just some info about the chapter I'm writing right now.
Posted 16 July 2009 - 01:00 AM
Posted 16 July 2009 - 12:11 PM
Masterson Street Dry Cleaning crew chapter two:
The Barbershop Duet and the Legend of Noltisanti
Sammy Botino stubbed out his cigarette on an empty ash stained plate before immediately taking another from a pack of Redwood’s and lighting it with a match. A small television set flickered between a grainy picture and snow, filling the room with the distorted voice of Ricky Gervais, “Do commandos not where pants…” Sammy chortled briefly before the gruff laugh became a hoarse cough pushing out the stale musty air thick with smoke and the stench of a man living in a single room for two months.
Sammy had devoted twenty-five years of his life to Jon Gravelli and the Gambettis; painstakingly carving out a reputation as a consummate Mafioso and positioning himself as Gravelli’s natural heir. Life on the shelf was torture for the ambitious young Turk, from his many hideouts he had watched the rise of an even younger heir apparent, Roy Zito, who was quick to forge a reputation as competent leader, while he still remained largely untested, as time passed he knew his chances of assuming the title diminished just as Zito’s grew.
Marko Noltisanti sat in Benito’s Coffee and Comics sipping cappuccino and reading the Liberty Tree. A greying woman entered the coffee shop, “Benito, my usual please,” Benito was a slight bespectacled man, he was only thirty-five but he had already started balding, his bare crown and wispy hair made him look twenty years older than he actually was, “Comin’ righta up,” he always exaggerated his Italian accent when he was at work, born in Naples but raised in Broker, his accent came as much from movies as his parents. The woman turned to find a place to sit and saw Marko, “Mr Noltisanti, it’s a lovely day isn’t it?”
“That it is Mrs Halweather.”
Everyone in the South Slopes said hello to Marko, he was a drug wholesaler but also a renowned philanthropist, the community was blinded by his gregarious and generous nature; they choose not to see the path of destruction left in his wake. His wares were mainly peddled in the Firefly Projects and Schottler. The South Slopes was a neighbourhood in the midst of gentrification, its drug addicts were all very discreet, hidden away in their lavishly decorated apartments shooting up high-grade heroin and snorting barely cut cocaine.
“I’ll see ya Benny,”
“Ok Mr Noltisanti.”
Marko stood and donned his hat before leisurely strolling towards the door, smiling at Mrs Halweather as he past the counter. A young man entering the café stopped to hold the door open for Marko, “Hey, Little Johnny, how’s ya mother?” he slipped a twenty dollar bill into the young man’s shirt pocket before he had a chance to answer, “She’s fine Mr Noltisanti.” as the door began to gently shut Marko called out, “Stay outta trouble.” before making his way down Sundance Street.
He had a routine which he rigidly followed every morning, after coffee at Benito’s he would cut through Erie Avenue and onto Hickcock Street where he would go for a shave at The Barbershop, after that he would head over to Hove Beach where he would meet with members of the Petrovic Bratva at the Gulag Garden, a lounge and restaurant on Wappinger Avenue, owned by Yuri Bulat, Petrovic’s main representative in Hove Beach. Although Marko was a connected guy the changing face of Broker meant forging new relationships. Through the Russians he was able to launder as much as four hundred thousand dollars a week for a twenty-five percent commission. As Marko arrived at The Barbershop its owner Conrad was standing outside smoking,
“Conrad my man,”
“Mr Noltisanti how are you today?”
Conrad hurriedly put out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe before opening The Barbershop door.
“Thank you Conrad,” as Marko entered the shop he slid a twenty dollar bill into Conrad’s shirt pocket.
“Thank you Mr Noltisanti…erm your chair,” leaving the door to gently close he quickly cleared the chair, “I’ll do your towel,” as Conrad rushed about preparing hot towels and a razor Marko stared at himself in the mirror,
“I saw Mrs Halweather at the coffee shop.”
“Oh yeah, how is she?”
“Pretty fine for an older woman.”
“Ah your too bad Mr Noltisanti.”
The two men both chuckled as Conrad placed the hot towel on Marko’s face, Conrad then started pottering around at the back of the shop. Neither of the men noticed the door slowly opening, “So how about them Swingers huh?” Conrad turned around to answer, suddenly aware that two men had quietly entered The Barbershop, they were both dressed in designer suits and wore sunglasses, which was unusual for late October. The Barbershop was a small family business, it’s compact waiting area could sit three people comfortably and just about the only thing that marked these men out as being any different was them not using the waiting area.
“The sits are clean,” Conrad quipped in a gentle tone, eager to put the men at ease. He thought he recognised the older of the men but he couldn’t put a name to the face, where had he seen him before, then it hit him, he didn’t know his name but he knew who it was or rather what he was. The clogs turned in his head and the possible permutations of outcomes rolled through his mind.
The older man whose name had escaped Conrad was Phil Leonardo and his younger companion was Gene Molinaro, Gene watched Phil and Phil watched Conrad, no words were spoken but the stare intimidated and threatened as much as any spoken gesture. Phil reached inside his jacket, Gene mirrored his companion and they both slowly took out Beretta pistols. Conrad stood rooted to the spot, fear took over his body, his mind told him to run or at least to look away but his body had other ideas; his eyes were fixed on Phil’s gun as it moved towards Marko’s covered face, it was soon joined by the barrel of Gene’s.
Conrad’s mind fell silent then began to rise the gentle strings of Air on G String, with an added rhythm section , an internal bass drum, marking every passing second with a double thump of slowly building heart beat. The muzzle flashes almost went unnoticed, just another element in a cacophony of sound.
As the bullets entered Marko’s head the blow back spat out spurts of blood in narrow streams which coated the mirror then slowly dripped down in uneven streaks. The once white towel lay shredded and blood soaked. Marko’s body rocked back and forth as the bullets hit in quick succession before finally falling from the chair to the floor; his arms and legs sprawled out in different directions, his head lay face down on the ground in a great puddle of blood, fed by the many seeping wounds that covered his head.
Conrad said a short prayer in his head for his fallen friend, Marko’s generous tips had paid for his river boat, in all honesty he was probably mourning the money as much as the man but the way and the place he would have given anything to change. Eventually the soundtrack that had protected his senses at least in part from the mayhem faded. The grating noise of a woman screaming and a man shouting, a child crying and sirens. Now suddenly completely back in the room with all his senses tuned into reality he realised he was alone. The door opened and in walked a police officer and for the first time since Phil and Gene had walked into his shop he felt safe.
Phil and Gene had immediately fled after the last bullet was fired, they had rushed down Hickcock Street to Vinny Gambetti’s parked Presidente and jumped in the back. They then sped off, heading for a safe house in Meadows Park.
“What tha f*ck do you mean dere is a witness?” Vinny was younger than Phil, and ordinarily wouldn’t tell him off but normally there was no need as Phil was a dependable operator.
“It’s a neighbourhood guy, we don’t pop moms and pops.”
“That’s great, we can always say we’s had ours principles, we’ll be’s in mutha f*ckin’ jail but we’s gots principles.”
“Rules Vinny, we’s nothing with out ‘em.”
“I dunno I’m a pragmatist, shoulda just popped the guy, huh Gene?”
“I was watchin’ Phil, I was gonna do ‘im butta it weren’t my call right?”
“That’s right, I’ll f*ckin sort it, talk to the guy, make sure he is with tha programme.”
“You f*ckin’ betta Phil! It’s all our asses not just yours.”
Edited by vinnygorgeous, 16 July 2009 - 12:19 PM.
Posted 17 July 2009 - 04:41 PM
Posted 17 July 2009 - 05:25 PM
|QUOTE (vlad19 @ Jul 18 2009, 02:41)|
|yo i want to be a member of M.O.B. my territory (Firefly Projects Crack Den)|
You don't need to ask, just start writing your first chapter.
If no one beats you to posting a story for that location, it's yours!
PS; You don't need to double post. We read you the first time.
Posted 17 July 2009 - 05:42 PM
"MONEY OVER F*CKIN' BULLsh*t! THAT'S WHO DID IT! I F*CKING QUIT! STICK YOUR JOB UP YOUR A** MR GARIBALDI, I'M GOING TO AVENGE MORETTI!" I screamed down the phone, as my employer called me to ask why Moretti's body was lying in the back room of his car dealership. A plan had formed in my mind and there was no stopping me. I got into my Sentinel, drove to my current location, a broken down Angels of Death burrito near the Hickey Bridge. I had set up shop there, hanging my arsenal on the wall, and forming my plan.
Just a quick chapter before my last chapter for the Pavano's.
Posted 17 July 2009 - 09:17 PM
Just another ghetto story on the east cost
Yo, my name is Sean Johnson, I am 19 years old and I am a black male (just to let you know). I had a hard childhood, since the day I was first born, I was living on the streets, and my mom and my dad were homeless and had no job. While my mom was looking after me, my dad used to go and rob shops for food, clothes and money, my bed used to be a bin and the only way I could keep my self worm is to stay next to the tiny fire in the middle of 9 people. So I grew up on the streets of south Bohan, poor and my life was f*ked up. One night my dad went robbing, as usual, as he was coming home with absolutely no money or anything else, he went through a short cut in an alleyway, in the deep darkness he saw a fat middle aged guy being beaten up by two black males, so he picked up piece of metal and went to help the fat guy. He snitched around one of the attackers back and hit him in the head and knocked him out:
- Die mo*thaf*cker!!! He shouted as the attacker fell down.
- Yo homie what you doing men???? The other attacker shouted
- Imma bit the sh*t out of yo b*tch a** n*gga!!! Dad shouted back as he run to hit the guy.
The attacker got scared and run away. My dad then picked the fat guy up:
- Yo mister, are you all right there?
- Yes, I think so, the guy answered back with a weak voice.
- Yo men you don’t seem very well, I would take you home but I aint got a car….
- No need, my club is only 2 blocks away, I can walk thank you for your help, he said
- KK dawg, you need a hand or something?
- No, I think ill manage ok, the guy replayed
- Ok then watch yo self out there men, these cats are bad, you might get killed next time. Dad said
- Yeah I know, thanks for your help friend, here take this, gives 3000 bucks to dad, that’s the least I can do.
- Sh*t, I have never had so much money in my life, dude, thanks men. PEACE, he shouted as he left and made his way ‘home’ to tell as the good news.
I remember that night when he came back with all that food, fruits and sweets. That was the best night of my life. We couldn’t afford a house or apartment with that money, but we did get two tents, and I gotta say I had a much happier life. A few weeks later I got sent to school. It was a hell for me, these white kids were worse eating garbage, I had no friends at all, and simply because I was black, I even had a nickname ‘chocolate face’ I was violent towards kids that were bullying me so that might be one reason I got kicked out of the school, not to mention that no teachers liked me. So one night when I come back to my place from the beach, I found my dad lying there all in blood and had a whole in his head, my mom wasn’t there, but there was another man and he told me that there were 3 black guys that came and shoot him and they said ‘ That’s for messing with the wrong people in the wrong place, a**hole. He also told me that they have taken my mom and that she is most likely dead now. I got scared and run away as far as possible. So years past and I grew up in building for homeless kids. Now I was 19 and I had to leave, to start a new life. Start a new life??? No way I will find the people who killed my parents 10 years ago and I will get my revenge. Now I moved to Firefly project in south broker. I met a nice cheek, she my gf now. I told her that I have no house and no were to go and I was living outside. She said that I should join the police force they will give me shelter, but I HATE cops so that is not an option. I decided to join a local gang, I found out they were called M.O.B. which stands for Money Over Bitches. Now here I am, going to try and get in, who knows what challenges I have to do in order to get in, I sure hope nothing big
Posted 18 July 2009 - 04:02 PM
-hi, the guy said
Try talking like this:
"Hi." the stranger said.
It can make for more description, this is just a tip, you don't have to do it.
Posted 18 July 2009 - 05:43 PM
Posted 19 July 2009 - 10:01 AM
Episode One, Part Three
Big Lou just sat there, where he fell, his head ringing like a bitch. The air, thick and grey, seemed to dance and wave like ripples on a pond. Through the haze of his eyes, a figure approached, but he couldn't make out their face. And yet, despite the visual commotion, it was peaceful. Quiet.
Big Lou just sat there as the ringing got louder, his vision improved, and Al's screaming became a faint cry in the distance. He touched his ears and noticed blood on his fingertips.
And the day came, like a hurricane, rushing back.
"Four flower cars, wow!" marvelled a tourist from Los Santos, standing by the guy selling his nuts in the crisp morning sunlight. Momentarily spellbound by the stately procession of black PMPs gliding toward Columbus cathedral, the tourist wondered aloud to his wife, "Wonder who that is?"
Within earshot stood a tall, portly gentlemen, bedecked in a finely-tailored black suit, black tie and dark shades. He briefly turned to consider the graceless sightseer before being joined by a similarly-attired younger man, then crossing Bismark Avenue, where he embraced and kissed friends and family of slain, alleged mob-boss Jimmy Pegorino.
As the cathedral's bell rang a slow, sombre call to mourners, the crowd slowly swelled from across four streets with smartly-dressed people speaking in hushed tones. They greeted eachother, they shook-hands, they hugged, they kissed. Black suits and ties, black dresses and veils were in abundance.
Big Lou stretched out his hand to grasp that of Leo Torini, and the two men embraced. "You know Al, right?" Lou said, nodding at the smartly-dressed young man beside him. Leo grabbed the kid's hand firmly, just as Franny arrived and issued a discrete wave to them. Irrepressible, Al thought to himself, best described Franny. Despite the occasion, despite the family's uneasy fate, he was smiles, loud greetings and bear-like hugs as he waddled his gelatinous frame through the mourners. The world could fall down around his ears, but Franny would still have a joke and a smile.
While Franny glad-handed his way through the mourners to their circle, Leo, Big Lou and Al were joined by other "survivors": Joey G and his bodyguard, Tony Bells, and Leo's associates Mad Tony and Doc Cirillo. Others would come, such as Queen Angie, Blackjack Valenti or 'Three Fingers' Nucci, pay their respects, but only give a knowing glance and nod in Lou or Franny's direction. Everyone knew the police were watching, making notes, taking photos. Some associations were known; others, they preferred not to announce. Afterall, if Blackjack was followed by police, Big Lou's casino would be sunk. That was why Lou wasn't bothered when 'Quiet Mikey' Ruffino and his boys paid little attention to Franny when they arrived. But, Al noted that when Mikey struck-up a brief, whispering conversation with Joel, Big Lou's face twitched.
Another round of hugs and hand-shakes followed when Tommy Tuna and Dom "The Fringe" arrived with their bodyguards. Tommy had the good fortune to be elsewhere on the day Ray Boccino was blown to hell by that rocket-wielding nutcase, but The Fringe, who was inside the gas station store at the time, limped his way on crutches to greet Leo and Big Lou. Small-talk brought up the rear. And then pensive silence.
Those that weren't wiseguys, like Al, Doc and Mad Tony, knew better than to speak what they were all thinking. Jimmy was dead. Two-thirds of his soldiers, and all-but one of his capos were also in caskets, courtesy of a brief but intensely bloody skirmish with Russian drug peddlers. The family was on the ropes. For that matter, none of them was sure there really was a family any longer. Not that it'd be the first time these made men had been forced to change allegiances. Big Lou, for one, was prone to occasionally reminisce to Al about his days with the Leones and the Forellis before them.
The crowd divided, and all looked around when the widow, dressed elegantly in black, arrived, ascended the stairs, and stood in the doorway to speak with the Priest. Across the crowd opposite, Lou spotted Joel and his towering bodyguard, Slugger, and gave a respectful nod. Joel did likewise. Joel was in a similar circle of friends with Gino Motelli, the most senior of those remaining of Jimmy's organisation, and Sammy, "Hatchet" Gurino, and few of their other guys. It wasn't that there was a rift between the two sides, but Jimmy had been particularly wise in anointing his Capos, so as to keep certain personality disputes from boiling over within a crew.
That would all change now.
As Franny slowly eased his way through the mourners, Big Lou spotted a familiar face walking through the crowd toward him, an attractive, grey-haired woman on his arm, the well-dressed pair looking like they were about to attend the opera.
"Well, f*ck me! Tony Con!" Big Lou wrapped himself around Tony. "When the f*ck did you get out?"
"Big Lou! Well, it's been a while," the elder's smooth voice replied. The woman on his arm smiled. "You remember Angelica," he added.
"Of course, of course!" Big Lou exchanged kisses with the woman before turning to Leo to announce excitedly, "Leo. Leo! Look who it is!"
Leo respectfully shook Tony's hand. "You're looking well, Tony. When'd you get out?"
"It's been a year now," Tony said, patting his wife's arm. "It wasn't so bad, four years. I've done worse."
"But no more," Angelica added, Tony sheepishly agreed with a "yes, dear", and the Big Lou and Leo laughed. The rest of the crew standing around were left wondering who had captivated Lou's attention.
"Tony, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of ours," Big Lou said, pushing forward another in the circle. "This is Joseph Genovese." The fat hands of Joey G swallowed Tony's hand extended in friendship, as the two exchanged knowing glances.
"And this is a friend of mine," Big Lou added as he pushed Al, who was standing nearby with a bemused gaze, forward. "Al, uh, sorry, Paul Iacupone. Antonio Conoscetutti."
Al's eyes widened. "THE Conoscetu...-"
While Big Lou nodded, Tony forcefully grabbed and shook Al's hand. "Nice to meet you, too, kid." Laughter ensued as Al marvelled in the moment of meeting an Alderney legend, deferrently bowing.
Greetings completed, Tony broke the respectful silence. "F*ckin' shame, young Jimmy going out like that. Putto Russians." Tony spat to the ground with venomous disgust. Murmurs of agreement circled about. "So, it won't be Phil; who's Boss, now?"
Nervous shifting was followed by Big Lou chin-pointing toward Gino and the group of men talking around him.
"Huh," he simply said. "Well, I should go and make my representations." Tony paused thoughtfully a moment. "Do you think Giovanno will remember me?"
Lou looked at Tony with surprise. "Gino? You...? Are you re...- I thought you were out?!" Lou said, gesturing in the direction of Angelica, who was deep in conversation with other mourners behind Tony.
Tony smiled. "Sure I am, Lou. But, I think he," he said, gesturing to Gino, "might need some help settling into the job."
Big Lou just smiled. "We should meet again."
"Yes," Tony enthusiastically agreed. "There's much to discuss." Tony broke from the group and eased his wife from those she spoke with and greeted Gino and the rest of the crew. Big Lou's eyes watched warily.
Leo, noting Lou's long stare at Tony, Gino, Joel and the rest of that circle, leaned over to Big Lou. "We will have to discuss this."
"What's to discuss?" Lou responded, matter-of-factly.
"He's the last Capo standing. And I don't see Mrs P' taking over," Lou said, nodding in the direction of the woman at the top of the steps, a gaunt look of despair across her face.
"Yeah, but..." Leo chose his words carefully. "Him?"
"Why isn't Franny putting his name forward?" Joey G added. "He wuz Jimmy's next pick for Capo. He's got the ...-"
Franny, who'd finally finished greeting everyone that ever knew Jimmy, landed his thick arms onto Doc and Joey's shoulders and relinquished some of his weight onto them. "What have I got?" he interrupted loudly with a broad, toothy smile.
In an almost whisper, Leo responded: "You gonna challenge for the job, Franny?"
Franny looked around the circle, reading each face. He swallowed hard, swallowing down his ambitions, and turned his discomfort into a broad smile. "What? I want the stress?" he replied, emphasising the word "want".
Leo turned to Lou. "What about you, Big Lou?"
"Yeah, come on, Lou," Joey encouraged, while Al and the others nodded with quiet approval. "We need wise counsel at the helm."
Lou paused for a moment, almost as though he were considering it. "Vano's too determined," he finally said, shaking his head. "And he's got the right before me or Franny.
"We'd just split what's left of the family, and we've got enough trouble with the Pavanos and Ancelottis."
"Yeah, and our own territory," Leo nodded in agreement. They all looked at Leo questioningly. "Well, this morning, me an' Doc went on a collection run. F*ckers chased me down the f*ckin' alleyway with baseball bats!"
"F*ckin' everyone," he replied, a little animated. "Bakery owner, video store guy, that Jewish jewellers... Some citizens' action group, they said."
Big Lou, looking pensively at his shoes, nodded agreement. "Little Freddy pulled a gun on me this morning." He looked up. "A gun! On me!" he growled.
Franny, now standing on his own two feet, considered the trend. "They're sensing weakness."
Big Lou added a quiet "exactly", but some needed that explained.
"Jimmy's gone. Two-thirds of us are gone. They know it. They're testing for weaknesses, for gaps, maybe they can shake us loose. Maybe someone else takes over.
"So, Little Freddy pulls a gun. Why should he pay protection to a crew he hears is on the out?" They all nodded.
"The streets are whispering already." More nodding and nervous shifting of feet.
"And Jimmy's not even in the ground."
After struggling to squeeze through the growing crowd outside the Columbus Cathedral, a child, no more than nine years of age, tugged on Big Lou's arm. Lou looked around, and then down. "Watcha want, Squirt?" The kid, too intimidated, said nothing, but handed Lou a small, folded piece of paper and pointed to the south-eastern corner of the block. Lou looked up, but, still confused, he looked down again to get the child to explain. But she'd already escaped the throng on the cathedral steps, and, where a friend waited, mounted her bike and rode away. Lou opened the note.
In a printed-calligraphic font, it simply read:
"My sincere condolences, Mr Lou.
"What's that, boss?" Al asked. Lou handed him the note and scanned across the street again, and, this time, saw, atop a scaffold, the familiar figure of a young, svelte, dark-skinned woman giving an unobtrusive Yakuza-style bow.
Al looked up from the note just in time to see her bounding over a rail and out of sight. "Huh," Al breathed. "Sh!t. Not the sociable one, is she?"
Lou gave a short laugh. "Yeah," he said. "Outa sight is outa trouble."
Noting the conversation, Leo enquired. "What's up, Lou?"
Lou took back the note from Al's hand, screwed it up and pocketed it. "Nah," he said, shaking his head, "nuthin, Leo."
The cathedral's bell tolled more insistently a second round, and mourners began quietly filing inside.
I am genuinely interested in feedback. If you'd prefer not to clog the thread, feel free to PM instead.
The funeral mass will now be done in two parts. I've just got too much to say that it was turning into a 3,800-word monster. I'm a fan of length, sure, but that's thrice a typical story. Absurd. So, bear with me. I'm still introducing my crew.
Question for Staff: May I assume a lead-pipe can be used as a weapon for free? The Peg's already have the baseball bat if that makes a lick o' difference. Secondly, I don't see armoured vests listed as weapons. May I assume they can be used without having to buy them?
BUYG staff replied: You can use a lead pipe and armoured vests. It would probably be good for us to add those in the future.
Another BUYG staff rejected adding them.
This story earned an astounding $51 and the staff comment: "You're a very detailed writer. I really enjoyed reading this." plus "That's a great story, aragond."
View next scene
Edited by aragond, 26 July 2009 - 04:54 AM.
Posted 19 July 2009 - 03:46 PM
"My sincere condolences, Mr Lou.
I'm not sure, but, did you mean fr it to be like this?:
"My sincere condolences, Mr Lou. - Pearline"
Posted 19 July 2009 - 03:51 PM
Please don't write in script form and use more description in your writing.
You're a very detailed writer. I really enjoyed reading this. Also, you can use a lead pipe and armoured vests. It would probably be good for us to add those in the future.
Also, the Pavano's Leisure Club is being replaced with the Charge Island docks, and mark-2007 has been added to that location.
Ratings by, WelcomeToLibertyCity.
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 19 July 2009 - 04:04 PM.
Posted 19 July 2009 - 03:58 PM
Posted 19 July 2009 - 04:03 PM
|QUOTE (evog @ Jul 19 2009, 15:58)|
|In that case, maybe "Marco's Tobacco & Beer Shop" could be changed too? I was always interested in writing a story for Charge/Colony Island, and if the location could be changed to one of those islands, I'd join it. It wouldn't really be interesting to write a story with the location as a tobacco/beer shop, in my opinion.|
Two locations on islands would be unnecessary. The only reason we changed that one is because we found out the Pavanos transport heroin from there.
Posted 19 July 2009 - 05:16 PM
Posted 19 July 2009 - 05:37 PM
|QUOTE (vinnygorgeous @ Jul 19 2009, 13:16)|
|I know I got 50 bucks so I should probably keep my mouth shut but I didn't get a single comment, good or bad its nice to hear something|
I just couldn't think of anything to put Umm, maybe next chapter can have more action? This one was quite abit of dialouge.. but all in all it was great.
Posted 19 July 2009 - 10:02 PM
Posted 20 July 2009 - 02:11 AM
Also, I think the 'Old Hospital' location, for the Torres Cartel, should be changed. The gang does not operate there, at least it never said they did throughout the IV canon. Maybe it should be changed to a Bohan location (i.e. West Bohan Apartments), as that is where they mainly operate.
Edited--reason; word mistake.
Posted 20 July 2009 - 03:27 AM
|QUOTE (evog @ Jul 20 2009, 01:46)|
|That's a great story, aragond. I noticed you once typed this:|
"My sincere condolences, Mr Lou.
I'm not sure, but, did you mean fr it to be like this?:
"My sincere condolences, Mr Lou. - Pearline"
Thanks for the comment very much, Evog.
On Pearline's note, not really. I was attempting a literal look, trying to make it look like the actual note would have, and would have indented it to make that clearer to readers, only I don't think we can indent on GTAF.
And, thank you, too, anonymous BUYG staff-man! Appreciate the comment and the record (for me) $51! Not bad for a story I was thinkin' would get a lot less because "eh, it's just dialogue, no drama, people will be bored." Maybe that's the next story.
And, finally, so that my friend, Mr Vinny, doesn't walk away empty-handed (alright, so WtLC already replied, but I just have to add my tuppence), mate, I especially liked this. You managed to make "a day in the life" (albeit his last) for Noltisanti an interesting read. As a writing exercise to achieve just that, you scored well. And the tension in the barbers built nicely until the conclusion you just knew was coming. Very Godfather-esque. No, it wasn't so much an action story, but then, I can't complain about that.
I only had one critique, and, okay, I'm a stickler, but it does detract from my ability to flow through the story: grammar, with a few commas missing in the dialogue. No big deal, not a story-crippler, but worth paying attention to, imho. (Examples available on- or off-line if you care to.)
Oh, and I noted with interest the shift to third-person omniscient. Perhaps you thought you couldn't have written that story without it. Maybe. It's a tougher gig, f'sure, but a first-person perspective on your own assassination... now that's some Pulitzer sh!t! 'Sokay. Next time.
A worthy effort, Vinny.
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