BUYG: Build Up Your Gang IV
Posted 27 August 2009 - 12:18 AM
Posted 27 August 2009 - 01:32 PM
I think around the release of Ballad of Gay Tony, the Ancelotti Family places will fill up really quick. The Lupisella Family would kind of act as a test run for the Messina Family, the only other of the Commission families that isn't in the works to be added. For the Lupisella's, I'd suggest letting them have a Primo as their car, with a Washington as their bonus car. I can picture the Lupisella's being the fat guys in tracksuits, who sort of resemble Vincent Pastore (Big Pussy in the Soprano's), and with them being based in Bohan, I think those two cars would more fit with there style than the likes of the PMP 600 and Sentinel, as Albany is the GTA take on Cadillac. Also, I'd like to suggest the Construction Site, down in South Bohan as a Lupisella location, then there's that bar "Whiskers" next to Burger Shot, and possibly that Deli that's located somewhere around Fortside. What do you guys think?
Posted 27 August 2009 - 02:41 PM
btw I am also interested in either Lupisella or Messina but I may just stick with Gambettis and buy a better location
Posted 28 August 2009 - 10:59 AM
Posted 28 August 2009 - 06:11 PM
Ever since aragond posted this:
- Sanjeem posted his second chapter (it doesn't say that, mind, but it is) for the Irish mob.
- Tycek posted his second chapter for The Lost MC.
- vinniegorgeous posted his third chapter for the Gambetti crime family.
- Brownbear posted his very short first chapter for the Irish Mob operating out of the Lucky Winkles bar, and James offered some helpful advice on how to improve its grammar.
- Osric posted his first NEW chapter for the Petrovic Bratva.
- Oh, and aragond's posted his sixth chapter below for the Pegorino Recycling Plant.
There's been some new things going on that also needs to be updated:
- Benjimino234 joined the Cabaret Club
- ScratchCard quit
- marexx joined the Pavano Family's Marco's Tobacco & Beer Shop
- photopictures joined the Hillside Posse at the Hombrew Cafe and..
- StrappedEnd has a new name/account; TUBBSthezombie
I have an idea for a story but I'm not gonna write it until the Staff have some free time on their hands; as I understand that they only do this when they're not busy/when they feel like it.
Posted 29 August 2009 - 08:44 PM Edited by Osric, 07 September 2009 - 11:31 PM.
Posted 30 August 2009 - 02:47 AM Edited by aragond, 21 October 2009 - 03:35 AM.
Episode One, "Vicissitude", Part Seven
As the door slammed open, the thin mist of the night air swirled and danced in the lantern-light. The dramatic door opening sent a gentle breeze rustling the green, orange and brown leaves of the Steinway Beer Garden, and the peace of the still night air, punctuated by only the distant buzz of cars, is cracked open by the raucous laughter of two men.
"You..." the flabby-skinned gentleman leaning on the frame of his friend slurred, "you aruh gud friend, a... cloz frien', m'...- whachor name again?"
"I'm Frank and you'resh Bob... no, wait, I'm Bob." The pair stumbled into the white plastic chairs outside the entrance and unwillingly broke their huddle so as to fall to the pavement. Amused by their fall, they cracked into further fits of drunken laughter.
Climbing back to his feet, Frank noticed two big-chested men approach them. Wearing a green Irish-themed shirt over a white t-shirt, the first man, speaking with a thick Irish brogue, offered them a pleasant evening. Frank only managed to slur "you!" in recognition before the first heavy punch into his side sent him stumbling over his friend and into the pavement hard.
"You should never have come to our neighbourhood, 'Frank'," the green-shirted Irishman warned, using his fingers to make quotes around Frank's name. He off-handedly deflected Bob to the ground who'd tried to mount a defence of his friend.
Frank's head spun, his vision swirled, and his tongue wouldn't work the way it normally did, but he could still crawl to escape the angry Irishmen. All this for bumping into the guy, Frank muttered to himself.
"You should have stayed away," Green-shirt said as he landed a crushing kick into Frank's flabby side. Though Frank's vision was blurred, his nerve-endings still effectively communicated the intense pain his side felt.
"Don' do thish. I have frien's who willsh not...-"
"Oh, but Frank, I know all about your friends," Green-shirt taunted, unperturbed. "Only, I don't see any of them around here. Do you?" he said, turning to his friend.
"Unless you mean old drunk Bob, here," the second Irishman taunted. "But I don't think you do. Does he, Bob?"
Bob, arms flailing in self-defence, collapsed under a volley of punches and kicks from the two Irishmen. Through the haze of alcohol, Frank realised the Irishmen were not simply out to beat-up a couple of drunks. He stood to his feet and began to break into a stumbling waddle that may ordinarily have been running were it not for an alcohol-afflicted lack of co-ordination. He stumbled and collapsed in the eastern wooden gateway to the Beer Garden's leafy courtyard.
"Oh, look, the fat-man has left his friend to die. He's trying to escape."
"Aww, don't go, Frank," the second Irishman taunted. "We want you to see what we do to your new friend Bob before we do it to you."
Frank stood again, stumbled a few more, desperate steps before falling into a parked car. Slurring some panicked curses, he tried pulling his mobile phone from a pocket.
A short, bitterly-sharp full-fist in the centre of his face stopped everything. Frank felt his nose explode blood as seering pain wracked his adled brain. He slumped down the car's hood to the ground. And yet, despite the pain, Frank kept crawling across the road to reach his own car.
Spitting blood, he received a vicious volley of blows that cracked ribs, split internal organs, and ruptured innumerable blood vessels all over his body. All the while, the Irish pair joked about their cruelty, and about Frank's Jell-O-like flab. But, Frank kept crawling away from the blows. When the blows momentarily halted, he'd try standing, but in his drunken stupor he couldn't manage more than a few steps.
When, O when, he thought, will the alcohol empty from his veins? Surely enough had been spilled onto the road by now! Frank slurred curses at his drinking, his choice of venue, his career choice and his life. And then his pain turned to anger, and anger to vengeance. He recalled that, though he was never a fighter, he'd cracked a rib or two with a baseball bat in his day. These two wouldn't stand a chance if it weren't for this f*cking alcohol.
Slurring some more curses, he stood, once again, and stumbled a few more steps to escape their abuse only to crash once more to the ground under the weight of several more blows.
The pain, the wooziness in his head and the bone-crunching kicks stopped his resistance. Lying across the pavement opposite the Beer Garden, Frank stopped, and, a few blows later, so too did his assailants.
The two Irishmen rolled him on his back, stood over his chest, one either side, and drew pistols from their waistbands. He raised his broken, bloodied hands to vainly protect his head.
"You shouldn't have come to our neighbourhood, Lou Franchetti." Green-shirt threatened. "Or is it Franny?"
"Or do you prefer Frank, now?" the other Irishman joked.
Franny slurred threats.
"Nah, you fat guinea f*ck, this is f*ckin' Irish turf, and over here you Pegorinos are f*ckin' dead men."
They cocked the hammers back on their pistols.
"Give our regards to Jimmy."
I am genuinely interested in feedback. If you'd prefer not to clog the thread, feel free to PM instead.
I've actually been waiting a long time to do this scene.
Needless to say, Franny's fate ends Episode One. Stay tuned for Episode Two. I might take a few weeks so I can get the whole Episode published in quick order, rather than over weeks. Stay tuned.
This story earned $47 from staff and the comment: "Great, really enjoyed reading this one."
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Posted 30 August 2009 - 04:16 PM
Posted 30 August 2009 - 04:46 PM
|QUOTE (ScratchCard @ Aug 26 2009, 16:37)|
| I'm quiting BUYG |
I don't really have the time to write long stories and it doesn't look like I'll be getting more time soon. Sorry guys, but keeping me is a waste of space and there are probarly other guys who could take me place who will actually write..
Same here, Remove me if you want, My last markings didn't show, Also i dont have the time, Remove me if Neccesary.
Posted 02 September 2009 - 10:04 AM
Posted 02 September 2009 - 01:15 PM
Posted 02 September 2009 - 07:39 PM
Posted 06 September 2009 - 06:16 PM
|QUOTE (WelcomeToLibertyCity @ Sep 3 2009, 05:39)|
|I'd just like to say I'm going to be inactive for quite sometime.|
Apparently, you won't be the only one.
Posted 07 September 2009 - 08:53 AM
Posted 07 September 2009 - 11:31 PM Edited by Big_Mitch_Baker, 09 September 2009 - 01:29 PM.
Edit: I'd like Rusty Schit Scrapyard where Ivy Drive meets Grummer Rd. as my property
Posted 08 September 2009 - 01:19 AM
Sorry Mitch but I think the angels are all filled up with members at the moment. When the staff aren't as busy and this place gets updated I shall have my first story!
Posted 08 September 2009 - 03:46 PM
Also yeah, its like everyone is dead in here
Posted 09 September 2009 - 11:01 AM
|QUOTE (Benjimino @ Sep 8 2009, 11:19)|
|The BUYG IV staff should start recruiting! Or, how about the users rebel against the staff and create their own rating committee?|
That's what JUST happened in July!! We can't have two revolutions a year!
Please let it be known I was referring to the writers, not the staff, with my activity comment above. We were bursting with stories six months ago, and now... tumbleweeds are blowing through.
Posted 09 September 2009 - 11:52 AM
|QUOTE (aragond @ Sep 9 2009, 22:01)|
That's what JUST happened in July!! We can't have two revolutions a year!
Please let it be known I was referring to the writers, not the staff, with my activity comment above. We were bursting with stories six months ago, and now... tumbleweeds are blowing through.
Totally. We should have another staff recruiting drive. I'd nominate you. Epicness!
Posted 09 September 2009 - 11:58 AM
An enjoyable chapter with lots going on, even had some jokes.
There were less errors than before so a big improvement in that respect and it was also a good story.
Good description but way too short, not really a chapter more of a paragraph.
A good read and well written although I wasn't too keen on tweaking the GTA universe and changing the state of Alderney into the county of Alderney and making Liberty City a part of New York state.
Good, complicated but good.
Great, really enjoyed reading this one.
My chapter three still needs rating and Iíll update the tables and do the removals and new members now.
rated by Vinny
Posted 09 September 2009 - 12:48 PM
I never understood why Aragond wasn't appointed last time, I thought he was offered a position and accepted so its a mystery to me, personally I would love for him to be staff I am sure he would do a better job than us lot. I also think the writers should be able to vote out and vote in staff members I don't like the life time appointment system, its obvious that peoples commitment changes over time so why not have a system that accommodates just that.
Posted 12 September 2009 - 11:53 PM
|QUOTE (vinnygorgeous @ Sep 9 2009, 22:48)|
|I never understood why Aragond wasn't appointed last time, I thought he was offered a position and accepted so its a mystery to me, personally I would love for him to be staff I am sure he would do a better job than us lot.|
And thanks, too, for the ratings.
Hope you managed to take command of nature in the mould issue. (Yeech!)
Posted 13 September 2009 - 08:27 PM
Posted 14 September 2009 - 05:14 AM
|QUOTE (Osric @ Sep 14 2009, 06:27)|
|Changed my mind, I want to switch from Petrovic Bratva to The Lost at Marty's Bike Shop.|
Your sig gave us the reason why.
Posted 15 September 2009 - 05:09 PM Edited by Tycek, 16 September 2009 - 09:23 AM.
The Lost MC chapter three
I was sitting on the armchair, and a turned on TV set stood before me. I had to fall asleep looking into this stupid screen. From what I remembered I recently watched Science of Crime, but I didn't remember what it had been about. I stood up from the armchair and put the jacket on. In the main room everything was as usually, but Tommy was sitting by the bar. He looked unintentionally into the empty glass. I came to him.
„I can see that something happened? Do you want to share it?”
„I don't know. Let’s go outside. I must get some fresh air” he answered and stood up from the stool.
We left the clubhouse and we got on our motorbikes. We started engines almost simultaneously and we moved. We went in silence through the city, until we reached the ferry terminal. We parked in front of the building and we looked at Algonquin.
„My mother died” said suddenly.
„Crack cocaine. Too much of this sh*t. The organism didn't withstand. I know that she was a weedhead and there was no contact with her through the majority of twenty-four hours, but she was my mother. Ralph, What I am supposed to do?”
I knew how the boy was feeling. I lost the father, mother essentially also, because from it what I know she is sitting with some yes-man, somewhere in the South. I knew how it was like, when you know that they won't be seen more and it isn't possible to count on them. Like they disappeared somehow from your reality.
Young man sitting on the motorbike and crying as the crocodile. Really strange view.
„You’ve got to be calm Tommy” I said ”your sadness won't bring her back to living. You must let her walk away. Remember only good times. The ones which pleased you. It will help you to survive.”
„This way it seems to me. Try Tommy. There is no time for sadness.” the ring of my phone stopped our conversation. I took it out of the pocket and answered.
„So? I understand. Uh-huh. We are already going.”
„Work. Continuation of the yesterday one. We are supposed to meet with Johnny in front
of the club.”
We started engines and we went to Acter. Johnny sat in front of the clubhouse and talked to standing Jim. When saw us he got up and came up to his motorbike. He got on and started the engine.
“Let’s go. We must reach this police station where we were yesterday” said „We need to grab the goods.
„And how do you want to do it? We failed up yesterday. What will change today?
„Today is today. Today we have the plan. Three of ours will drag cops away, and we will take the van away. Tommy’s brother is responsible for this.” Johnny said and he turned directly to Tommy„ I heard about your mother. I’m sorry. If we can help you somehow just say.”
„Thanks Johnny. Everything all right. I will get by.”
We reached up the police station soon. Black Speedo stood in front of the building. Two cops sat inside. You could tell that they are waiting for something. After a moment two Merits came to them. So, they waited for two patrol cars.
„Where are they going? ” I asked
„They are going to the police station in EIC. There is a police laboratory” Johnny explained
„They want to examine the cleanness of the drugs”
„Where do you know it from?”
„Ray has some rat at LCPD. He gave him this information”
„Do we know, which bridge they gonna take? ” I asked
„Algonquin Bridge. There exactly where Tommy’s brother is supposed to make the ambush”
„How are you going to make the ambush on three motorbikes?”
„It is their job” Johnny said meaning the Tommy’s bother and two motorcyclists „End of the chinwag. They are moving”
Two Merits and Speedo moved to the East in Star Junction direction. The great morning movement caused that the fast journey had been impossible. The police convoy barely got through this jam. Of course they had roof lights turned on, but civilians didn't have where to go, even if they wanted. For us however the heavy traffic constituted the great protection. We didn't have to hide at all. Cops still wouldn't see us. We drove almost onto Algonquin Bridge, when the Johnny took out phone and dialed a number. He kept the phone by the ear for the longer moment, but nobody answered. He looked at the display whether he choose the appropriate number and repeated the connection. Then again nothing.
„Damn. What's going on?” growled „where are they?” he chose the number of the second motorcyclist from the group which was supposed to make the ambush. And then again the same.
„Johnny, what's up?” I asked
„Neither Tommy’s bother nor others aren't answering the phone. And it means that there is no trap. Tommy your brother f*cked up. I don't know what happened, but the ambush isn't in the determined place. And we won't stop the convoy alone. We can only follow them. Again.
„And there will be no money again” Tommy threw
„Don't complain Tommy” I said „We will invent something.”
We travelled through the bridge, on which wasn’t trace of our friens. Either cops nicked them or something very much stank here. Did somebody of us talk, but what for? It wouldn't provide him with money, fame also rather not. For the revenge? But on whom? Whether on somebody of us? Whether on the entire gang or perhaps on Ray Boccino? Questions increased, and the reply didn't come.
The police convoy drove from the bridge and turned north toward the police station in Dukes. We were running out of both a time and ideas. In three there wasn’t possibility that we would stop this van. And there was no time for inventing something new, because we just drove up to the station. The entire convoy stopped in the car park behind the police station. Police officers got off from the van and entered the building. But the others still sat in two Merits.
“Will we get there guns blazin’ and will we take away the Speedo?” I asked ironically
„Of course, not” Johnny said „we must work something out”
„Only quickly, or else they will take goods” I shouted
„Maybe we should try to sneak up and take the van ” Tommy suggested.
„And what about the other cops from the police cars?” Johnny asked „ I have the better plan. But really dangerous. Don't go behind me but steal the van.”
„What do you want to do?”
Johnny took out pipebomb of a pocket, lighted a fuse and throwed it into police cars standing in the car park. All cops which could see it went in pursuit of him. Even one from Merits being in the convoy. However we jumped down from motorbikes, we ran to Speedo and we crammed ourselves inside. I started the engine and we jumped out of the car park. The other Merit moved behind us.
„Tommy destroy this police car. We must somehow lose them” I shouted
He leaned out of a window and he started firing a gun at them. He hit the driver and the police car hit cars standing on the side if the road. We turned into the closest backstreet and we waited until cops lose interest in us. There was a CB radio installed in the van. I turned it on and we started listening.
„We have him. He turned on Broker Bridge and is going in Algonquin direction. We ask for support” a radio barked
„I hope they didn't catch him. Or there will be a problem” Tommy said.
„We also have a problem. We must take these goods somewhere. But earlier we must do one thing.”
„You will see” I shouted and I jumped out of the van „guard goods”
I took the knife out and left the backstreet. I came up to closest car which was Intruder and I looked around. Nobody looked, so I unscrewed number plates and came back to the backstreet. Tommy sat on the Speedo threshold and waited for me.
„Goods are at the back” said „sh*tload of coke”
„Super. Let’s unscrew plates and screw the ones.” I said showing him metal sheets.
We did what I had said, and we threw away the old ones into the container standing in the backstreet. We could give the van back to Ray, but we didn't know, where we were supposed to bring it. Johnny certainly knew, but he wasn’t with us
„The suspect is going to the north. He is in Northwood” the radio out-talked again
„We are going to Northwood ” I said and I led the van out of the backstreet.
We moved in the East Borough Bridge direction. We had to help Johnny, but i didn’t know how. He had a few cops on the neck and we wouldn't kill them. At least not in three. Perhaps if we had the support, but principles were applied in clubs, that the president could only summon them. And Billy wasn't with us. Frankly he never was. Since when he became the boss thought only about himself. He never cared about members of the club he led. As if he was an entire club. Billy Grey MC.
I payed amounting 5$ road toll and we turned to the downward slope on Algoquin.
„Tommy, get for the phone and ring to Johnny” I said and I threw the cellphone in his direction. He dialed a number and after a moment I could hear shouts of our companion, trying to outshout police alarms.
„Johnny we are going to get you. We are already on Algoquin. Where are you?” Tommy said to the phone.
„You didn't have to risk so much.” Johnny shouted, “but if you are here meet me by Middle Park ”
„We will be waiting for you there” Tommy gave me back the phone. „Did you hear that?” asked
„Yes. Middle Park”
We reached our destination and stopped the van on the side of the amongst other cars.
„The suspect is going in Middle Park direction” voices of cops were heard on the radio again. „Where is he? I lost him. He turned into some backstreet”
„What is happening there?” Tommy was surprised
„We will have to ask Johnny what he worked out” I amswered
„I found only his motorbike, but there is no him here” a surprised voice of policeman sounded in the loudspeaker.
Somebody suddenly opened the Speedo back door. I and Tommy turned suddenly and we looked at the intruder. Johnny sweaty and tired out piled in.
„Move Ralph” he said and he sat down by sacks with coke.
I left to the street and we started slowly going to the South.
„What did you do there?” Tommy asked „Did you throw your motor to the decoy?”
„Exactly. I had to somehow lose them.” said breathing with difficulty
„And what with these goods. Where are we supposed to take them?” I asked
„To the clubhouse” Johnny answered „somebody from Ray is supposed to collect them”
Soon we were in Alderney and we were returned to a club. Cops were unlucky today. They lost a few police cars and so much of a cocaine. We were finally supposed to get the payment. And Tommy forgot about his mother, at least for a moment. I stopped the van in front of the club and we entered the building. I came up to the bar.
“Whisky shot” I said and I got the glass of the amber alcoholic beverage.
„One thing is puzzling me. What happened to Tommy’s brother. Where did he disappear? What happened there?” Johnny said, when the recalled specimen had appeared in the doorway.
„Where the hell have you been?” Johnny ran up to him
„One from our called for cops and they nicked us. We sat on the police station. They let us go few minutes ago.”
„Who called?” Johnny enquired „who?”
„Mike, but we already took care of him, don't say Billy”
I held my glass and I left the club. I sat down on stairs and I slowly drank alcohol, when Vicent rode up to the club and a young Irishman got off it.
„Is your boss around?” asked
„He is inside” I answered
„Could you call him?” I already wanted to tell him something unwelcome, but I refrained myself and I entered the club. I left with Billy.
„Patrick McReary” an Irishman said. ” I am working for Ray Boccino. He ordered me to grab goods. ”
„He rang me up not so long ago. Goods are yours” Billy threw and returned to the club.
„Gordon, get in the van” Patrick shouted and he got inside Vincent.
Gordon got in Speedo and both cars started. I stood on stairs and looked at receding cars. When I lost sight of them completely I entered the club and I closed the door behind me.
Posted 18 September 2009 - 03:52 AM Edited by Big_Mitch_Baker, 08 November 2009 - 07:41 PM.
Angels of Death
The Epic Chronicle of Johnny Malvado
Chapter 1: Dead men tell no tales
Location - Rusty Schit scrap yard, Grummer Rd.
"Don't do this, I'll give you whatever you want!"
The desperate plea of a man facing his imminent demise. He layed battered and cowering on the floor of a dirty little portable, surrounded by men of beastly stature...Men of great cruelty, known for their sadistic devaluation of life. His Perseus suit was torn and stained with his own blood. He operated a Grotti dealership and refused to pay the Angels of Death extortion money, an act that always ended in death. The money had to flow, or blood most certainly would...Even though their various extortion schemes netted the club less money than their drug dealing, their greed pushed them to take every penny they could.
"f*ck you" Malvado replied, "you had your chance to pay".
Johnny James Malvado had been an Angel of Death since the age of 21, paid his dues for 11 years and worked his way up in the club. His face was scarred and leathery from knife fights and axe handle beatings. His goatee was disheveled and nearly a foot long, his mustache was like something from an old western. Long unkempt greasy hair flowed out from under his dirt covered bandanna. He stood above the man, his face cold and expressionless. While the other Angels were quick to anger, Johnny always acted with an attitude of pure apathy.
"Please, I have children!", the man cried out. "Please, I have children, Ooooo...", one of the Angels mocked the mans misery. The group laughed, with the exception of Malvado and the man about to die. One of the bikers threw an empty bottle of liquor, which smashed on the wall inches from the mans head. He turtled into the fetal position letting out whimpering sounds, and the group booed and hissed. "Civilians are pussies, take it like a man." one of the Angels shouted above the heckling. Another walked up and planted his steel toe boot right into the mans face, causing him to flail over and flat onto his back. Malvado felt they were wasting time, and pulled out his knife. He leaned in close to the man and cut his throat open. The man gasped and gurgled as blood flowed out onto the portable floor, his mortality never more evident than in that moment. He reached out and grabbed Malvados pant leg, then collapsed completely into lifelessness. "Wrap him in a tarp and take him to the pit, one of you a**holes bleach this mess" Malvado ordered. The group rushed to it as Malvado prepared to dispose of the body.
He walked out into the scrap yard and to a barrel, one of many on the property. Malvado had obtained the Rusty Schit scrap yard from Ol' Rusty himself, by kidnapping his daughter and making an exchange. Life is cheap amongst the Angels of Death, a child is no different and gets no special treatment. At first the place was used to chop motorcycles and ship them overseas, but Malvado knew this scrap yard held a resource far more valuable than stolen vehicles...Thermite. The place was ripe with Iron Oxide and Aluminum, which Malvado could use to make a crude incendiary material capable of vaporizing carbon steel. In his younger days Malvado used to cook meth in his kitchen, and he pursued his propensity for chemistry by joining the military. He quickly became an expert in ordnance and explosives. When Malvado joined the Angels of Death, he introduced them to the idea of disposing of evidence by incinerating it with thermite, which had become the standard practice in many chapters because of it's effectiveness in destroying everything. Malvado pushed the barrel, leaning it to the left and the right as if walking it forward, until he reached the edge of a deep hole affectionately called "the pit". It was a misleading name, because it wasn't the only pit. There were mounds of dirt all over the property, each one a mass grave of people immolated without a trace, and each one referred to as "the pit" until the next one was dug. This one was about to see it's first victim. Two Angels carried the tarp containing the mans body and tossed it into the pit and Malvado began to pour in the barrel full of powdery thermite. He lit up a cigarette, and then a strip of magnesium. "Stand back boys" he warned as he tossed the strip into the pit, knowing it wasn't enough time for anyone to back up. The thermite sprayed up and sparked out of the hole like a volcanic eruption. The group backed away from the intense heat, but Malvado just stood among the raining fire as if he were immune...or perhaps he just didn't care. It wasn't long before the pit was just an empty hole, lined with a thin layer of glass from the intense heat on the sand. "Fireworks are over, now get the f*ck outta here" Malvado said to the group, prompting them to get on their motorcycles and head out.
One lingered behind, a prospect called Bird. They called him Bird because he was unusually skinny for a biker. He used to be a meth addict, and although most of the Angels of Death were on Meth, they could handle it...They weren't junkies like Bird. He used to roll with the skinhead punks of Topaz st. but became entrenched in the Biker lifestyle after attending an Angels of Death "run". He stole a Wolfsbane and tried desperately to get noticed by the club, eventually getting a disciple patch. He believed in all the talk of Freedom and Brotherhood, but had yet to learn that the club was really driven by Fear and Money. He was a pawn, and because of his small stature and "less than psychotic" attitude, he would never be anything more than a patsy. He walked over to Malvado and spoke quietly. "That guy...He agreed to pay, why...why did we have to kill him?" Bird asked, his voice trembling with nervousness. "Nobody refuses" Malvado explained, "the next guy who owns that Grotti dealership won't dream of saying no to us". Bird had a dismayed look on his face, unable to comprehend the murder of a man willing to co-operate. "This didn't bother you did it?" Malvado asked. He put his arm around Birds shoulders as if to console him as a brother, but his other hand was out of sight; firmly gripped on his knife handle. There was no place in the Angels of Death for compassion or a conscience, and Birds life depended on his next words. "No man, we do what we gotta do", Bird answered. Malvado paused to determine Birds' sincerity. "That's right, and don't f*ckin' forget it", Malvado said. "That civilian wouldn't give a f*ck about you if you were in his shoes."
Suddenly Motorhead starting playing...It was Malvados ringtone, Joe Jon was trying to get ahold of him. Malvado motioned for Bird to leave as he answered the phone. "Joe Jon, I just got finished here..." Malvado started, but was quickly interrupted. "Forget that sh*t, get your ass over to the f*ckin' clubhouse brother" Joe Jon said in a gruff voice. He hung up before Malvado could reply, although he really had no choice in the matter. Joe Jon was the Sergeant at Arms for the Algonquin chapter, and what he said was law. It didn't matter if your "old lady" was giving birth, or if you were in the middle of a gun fight, if Joe Jon asks you to go you GO. His influence was only out ranked by Lester Arnold himself. Malvado walked over to his Zombie and saddled up. He pulled his fingerless leather gloves tight onto his hands, and gripped the handlebars. With a swift boot he kick started his hog, and pulled out onto Grummer Rd. The clubhouse wasn't far, but Malvado split lanes and sped through traffic. Whatever Joe Jon wanted, it sounded urgent. He pulled off the highway and down an offramp, which the AoD had extorted a city planner to build. Bikes littered the front of the clubhouse, all of which belonged to senior members of the chapter. It was apparent that "Church", an AoD meeting, had been spontaneously called. Malvado parked his bike next to a dumpster and proceeded to enter the clubhouse.
He headed upstairs to find the meeting room full, save for a single empty seat waiting for him. Malvado sat next to "Big" Al Lawson, one of the oldest living members of the chapter. Time had taken his bodybuilder physique and turned it into flab, and he wore thick bifocal glasses. He had a friendly demeanor, but his charm was on the surface only. He wouldn't hesitate to murder anyone that looked at him cockeyed. He now owned "Big Als" furniture store on Howard St. in Willis, but it was a front for money laundering. He gave a respectful nod to Malvado as he sat down. "Glad you could grace us with your presence", Joe Jon joked, sarcastically commenting on Malvado being the last to show up. Joe Jon was a monstrous human being, standing almost 7 feet and weighing 250lbs. He had a large gut, but his arms and chest were a mass of solid muscle. He had a full beard that was braided into two prongs. His bald head exhibited a large swastika tattoo, as Joe Jon was a very openly racist member and former high ranking member of the Aryan Brotherhood. A commanding voice was heard to say, "I call church to order". It was Lester Arnold, the president of the Liberty City Angels of Death. He is also credited with the founding of the Angels of Death, although in reality the club became the AoD in 1949 after a merger with the Drunken Bastards of Death MC in Bayside and Angel Pine and the Iron Angels MC of Fort Carson . He did however take the club from a loose knit band of thugs and road warriors and shaped them into a drug dealing violence machine, which has spread its terrible reach all over the globe. Lester was a true sociopath, and it was rumored that he killed his Treasurer in the San Fierro chapter because he "breathed too loudly". His solution to every problem was "kill 'em all", a policy that had brought them fear and respect but also a great deal of police attention. "That means sit down and shut the f*ck up!" Lester shouted, to which the room fell silent. Joe Jon cleared his throat and began to speak. "Listen up Brothers, no time to review minutes...Ya'll know we've been havin' trouble with the Westdyke Chapter" Joe Jon stated. Those around the table began mumbling among themselves, as none of them had heard about any trouble with that chapter before. There were times when the Westdyke chapter had snorted more meth than they sold, but that wasn't entirely uncommon as they still met their quota for dues and pulled in good money. "They've been infiltrated by an LCPD informant". This could only mean one thing; time to clean house. Everyone in the room knew what was coming, as it was often easier to kill a member than prove he is a cop. Better to err on the side of caution when it came to informants, however this was an entire chapter that had to die...and for one guy.
"Rocket" Ronny stood up, "How do you know there's an informant?", he asked
"Sit down you dumb truck", Joe Jon ordered. "I don't gotta explain sh*t to you". Ronny sat down, but continued to give Joe Jon a dirty look. "Now we've set up a meet with them, they think we're gonna unload some ice on them to sell, but we're gonna unload somethin' on them mother f*ckers alright. Malvado, Panhead and Nasty, you three are gonna go do it...You can leave the prospects, but those with rank gotta go". Joe Jon slid a pistol across the table to Malvado. Already strapped, Malvdo passed it to Simon "Nasty" Nashly. "Consider it done" Malvado said as he stood up. Panhead and Nasty followed suit, and the three of them left the clubhouse to conduct their grisly buisness. They rode their hogs to the corner of Cariboo Ave. and Ortiz Rd. where they could see the clubhouse. From a distance the building appeared as any other in the rich suburb of Westdyke, however upon closer inspection one could see the boarded up windows, the peeling paint, the piles of empty beer bottles littering the yard. A burrito van sat in the driveway with "Angels" spray painted prominently on the back. The three men pulled up to the curb and parked, then walked casually to the front door. Panhead gave a "shave-and-a-hair-cut" knock, and the door opened a crack. A filthy face could be partially seen peering through the crack. It was Dirty Dave. "Oh, it's you guys...Come on in" he said, then shut the door. They waited patiently as he fumbled with the chain lock, then again the door opened. Malvado stepped in first, and they followed Dirty Dave to the kitchen where three senior members of the chapter were playing cards. "sh*t, we've been waitin' for you cocksuckers" Dirty Dave quipped. There was no pause, no hesitation, Malvado Panhead and Nasty pulled out there guns and opened fire. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the victims eyes went wide as the guns were pointed towards them. Shots began to ring out, and Dirty Dave got a slug through his right eye. One of the three at the table caught a slug in the chest, while the other two managed to flip the table over and duck behind it. Panhead shot one through the table, but the other pointed his gun above the overturned table and fired blindly. One of the shots happened to pierce Panheads neck, and he fell to the floor. Another bullet happened to graze Malvados shoulder. "Mother f*cker" Malvado exclaimed in a rare display of human emotion. He kicked the table clear across the room, knocking the gun from the defenders hand. "Do it you pussy" the man said with rage as Malvado and Nasty pointed their guns at him. They both opened fire leaving him looking more like a Sieve than a man. An engine could be heard starting in the garage, it was the chapter head Hank "The Hulk" Abott trying to make an escape. Malvado rushed outside, as Nasty stood there unaware. Nasty wasn't very intelligent, even for a barbaric biker. Malvado watched as Hank raced out of the garage and down the driveway, and he began to chase him on foot. He ran to the end of the driveway, but had no chance of catching up to the Revenant as it sped away. He raised his pistol and took aim, he had one shot at this..."Bang", the shot echoed through the streets causing dogs to bark wildly. Just as Hank was about to turn the corner, the bullet hit him in the back and knocked him off his bike. Malvado walked over to Hank as he writhed on the ground bleeding. He allowed him to squirm for a bit, then finished him off with two to the head. It was then that Nasty Nashly ran up grabbed Malvados arm. "Cops are comin' man, we gotta take off" he said as sirens could be heard approaching with haste. Nasty ran to his bike and sped off, as Malvado walked casually to his Zombie and drove off leisurely out of sight just as the LCPD showed up. Malvado called up Joe Jon, "It's done man" he said. "f*ckin' A" Joe Jon replied, "They won't be informing anyone but God now". Malvado let out a small "heh", almost a chuckle but not quite..."There is no God, thought you knew that Joe"
"Well then they'll be tellin' their secrets to the worms Johnny boy. Keep the rubber side down my brother", and with that Joe Jon hung up.
Malvado returned to the Rusty Schit scrapyard to find Rocket Ronny waiting there, smoking crack from a pop can. Rocket Ronny was an excellent racer, but in recent years he had become less and less violent which made him less and less useful to the club.
"Malvado! We need to talk..." he said as Malvado approached.
"What is it this time Rocket, you owe them Holland Hustlers crack money again? I can't be bustin' heads to solve your debts for you all the time, be a man and..." Malvado said until he was interrupted.
"No man, it ain't like that...It's about them boys in Westdyke. Somethin' ain't right man...I don't think there was any informant in that chapter..." Rocket interjected.
"You've been blastin' too much rock man, there's a healthy amount of paranoia but you're pushin' it." Malvado replied. Ronny became more garish in his speech.
"Seriously, I knew them guys and not one of them was a cop"
"What are you f*ckin' psychic?"
"Trust me man...You know that kid in Steinway we use to hack the LCPD database? Well I got him to check it out and they don't have anyone on the inside of our club. The last cop that got in was that guy WhiteDog, and you know what Big Al and Joe Jon did to him...that was 4 years ago."
"So what are you sayin' man, that we killed them brothers for nothin'? Don't be stupid." Malvado replied
"Not for nothin', far from it...They had something man, something Lester wants. Or they knew something he didn't want known... It's like a f*ckin' conspiracy man, and none of us are safe"
"Nobody is safe Rocket, that's just the way things are...Just don't f*ck anything up and mind your own business and they'll have no reason to bury you."
"I'm gonna find out what that sh*t was really about, can I count on you?"
Malvado paused for a moment..."Yeah man, just don't stir up sh*t with Joe Jon or Lester...ya hear me?"
Rocket nodded respectfully, then walked off toward Ivy Drive. Malvado couldn't help ponder what had been said. Could it be true that they killed the entire Westdyke chapter under false pretenses? And if so what was so important and so secretive that such misdirection had to be used? Normally Malvado wouldn't question his superiors, but he knew that things didn't add up...
The truth would lead him down a dark and twisted trail where nothing was what it appears to be...
NEXT CHAPTER: Homebrewed Negotiations
Posted 19 September 2009 - 02:39 AM
|QUOTE (Big_Mitch_Baker @ Sep 18 2009, 13:52)|
| Weazel News - Angels of Death|
Angels of Death
The Epic Chronicle of Johnny Malvado
Chapter 1: Dead men tell no tales
Location - Rusty Schit scrap yard, Grummer Rd.
I'm loathe normally to comment as I'm not staff, but, sorry, this deserved it.
3,128 words, beating any of my looooong stories means you win the aragond's patented Verbosity Award!
No, seriously, NOICE story.
Well, actually, it was rather horrible, but in its horribleness it was impressive, visceral, an engaging read. You seem to know a lot about your subjects (or is all this available from owning TLAD? I'm a pc-user and will ne'er know), and a lot about your characters, which helps with realism. Your opening line was a brilliant choice. And lines/phrases like "men of beastly stature...Men of great cruelty, known for their sadistic devaluation of life" are just awesome! Truly.
The separate lines for each man's dialogue would have helped a lot, which you did at the end -- it just makes for an easier read -- as would fixing some of the missing or misplaced commas and full-stops. No points lost when I consider the quotes: "I don't gotta explain sh*t to you", "They won't be informing anyone but God now", and "there's a healthy amount of paranoia but you're pushin' it." And the story. Nice ending-twist. All that we want from BUYG stories. Nice work.
Posted 19 September 2009 - 05:36 AM Edited by Big_Mitch_Baker, 20 September 2009 - 05:47 PM.
And yeah, I do know a lot about the subject...I'm a biker in real life and have heard/seen a lot of brutal sh*t...and I also happen to be the founder of the AoD MP clan so I've done my homework on their In-game history (gathered as much info as R* has given on the AoD, which wasn't much really). Also all the locations exist in-game exactly where I describe them.
As for punctuation, yeah I probably should have taken more time on it...And I felt there wasn't enough dialogue to seperate until the end there, but you're probably right it'd be easier to read if I did that more
Glad ya enjoyed it, I'll be writin' more when I got the time...just hope the staff likes it too
Posted 19 September 2009 - 08:58 AM
Yeessssss... first in! Actually, technically, it's in about 2.75 hours, but... meh...
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