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BUYG: Build Up Your Gang IV

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  • JerryJerry

    Player Hater

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Posted 16 October 2009 - 08:01 AM

Actually I already have a story written for the Lost MC, ill be taking the Lost MC's ammunation slot. Im going to put out story soon.

  • Benjimino234

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Posted 16 October 2009 - 11:05 AM Edited by Benjimino234, 16 October 2009 - 11:09 AM.

QUOTE (tarnell @ Oct 15 2009, 02:57)
QUOTE (Colt M14 @ Oct 14 2009, 08:06)
QUOTE (tarnell @ Oct 14 2009, 02:37)
yeah I am active, but can you put me with the russians?  smile.gif

1. He said not to post "Im active" on the thread.
2. You need to write 5 stories before you can move gangs. It is written in the rules.

i know what he said...

No... Obviously you didn't for either. sly.gif

So this isn't spam here's my second story!

Wish upon a shooting comet

user posted image

Driving my Rebla towards to Mohegan Ave and devising a plan to kill my target using his own car was difficult. One of the most strangest and hardest requests for a hit I’ve ever had before. I’ve had simple ones such as the target seeing a photo the client requested or a letter. Then the requests get harder ones such as particular kinds of death and of course the, ‘Make it look like suicide’ task to worry about. I’ve done electrocution, death by falling and a hanging with the client’s requested rope; well actually it was a belt… I don’t usually ask about requests or their reasons, just the money. But the clients were commonly enraged and full of hate and either just releasing it all at me or trying to ‘turn’ me against the target attempting to hate them as much as the client does.

I usually didn’t care, but with strange requests and usual targets my curiosity overpowered my sense of, ‘Just do the job.’ part of me. The belt the target gave me was to hang his own father, the same belt that he whipped him when he was only a child. But that is not the worst I’ve had, plenty are much worse. I regret just asking, ‘Why?’ because some of the reasons behind the request were quite disturbing. I had stop feeling compassion or empathy for my targets because I usually spared them and drove my clients mad of why I didn’t do it… Those people really genuinely hated the targets and it was ugly. ‘Just do the job.’ I said to myself…

‘Death by his own car' was quite puzzling, but not impossible, it was do-able. Arriving at Mohegan Ave and glancing quickly left and right along the curbs looking for a parked Comet. “Nice.” As I smiled “I never saw a Comet up close.” I Slowed down the car and parked it an average safe distance behind the Comet, then shifted the Rebla into park and killed the engine. Placing my elbow on the armrest and palming one side of my face while staring at the Comet. I sighed deeply, and then I experienced an, ‘Eureka!’ moment. I leant down and pulled the, ‘Open Boot’ handle.

Opening the door and quickly and jumping down from the Rebla, nearly hitting my head on the roof of the car. I rushed around to the boot and pulled it open. Searching among the spare clothes and cases of weapons I clutched something cold, it was a glass bottle. Placing the glass bottle on the ground I reached deeper into the boot area and pulled out a gasoline container.

I was making a Molotov; filling only one fifths of the glass bottle with gasoline then placing both the bottle and gasoline container on the ground. My attention went back to the booth and to a case full of pre-damped rags just for Molotovs. But instead of grabbing them I grasped a clean one. A slow burn with a lot of smoke is what was needed. Only wetting the tip of the rolled up cloth I placed it into the bottle and closing the boot straight after. Looking as a plain civilian briskly walking but trying to keep the Molotov out of sight behind my side. I arrived at the Comet, pretending to tie my shoe while leaning down and remaining incognito and feeling around in my pocket for a lighter. I’ve found it; impatiently clicking there was no flame, a few more tries later it finally worked, moving the cloth closer to the flame it caught aflame easily. After placing the bottle under the Comet’s engine I hastily walked back to my car.

Unlocking the door quick I jumped back in and bringing the engine alive again and watched the smoke rise through the Comet’s hood. Only a few seconds later there were muffled shouts, and the front door of the apartment building burst open and a man running out to the Comet, it was Vyacheslav Ivankov. Once I saw him I put my foot to the floor, the Rebla was slow to grip the asphalt but eventually griped and accelerated rapidly towards the rear of the Comet is a cloud of smoke. For the unlucky Vyacheslav he was in front of the Comet with its the hood popped up and inspecting the engine, I couldn’t see him, but he couldn’t see me.

Hitting the Comet hard, it shook my bones, but for him it’s more of a crushing action. A thud and shutter of the Comet over what I presumed was Vyacheslav’s body I sped up and glanced back. Only seeing the top of his head under the front bumper and with the added credibility of the Molotov I was sure Vyacheslav was done for. Glancing back to the road and driving back towards the Cabaret Club I thought to myself, ‘Hopefully I can buff out those dents.’
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  • Slingaa

    Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.

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Posted 16 October 2009 - 05:39 PM

Gambetti Mansion, Infiltration.
20th March 2009

Rain was beating down like rocks on Trigger’s roof. He slid over in bed to look at the alarm clock, 4AM. The clock illuminated Trigger’s dirty, smelly apartment. There were cracks in the walls as big as baseball bats, huge flies roaming around freely and the odd dull cobweb. It was safe to say, Trigger didn’t live in luxury. The rain continued to fall, and Trigger walked over to the window, pulled the curtains open and gazed into the night sky. There were a few people around, but not many. What he could see said it all about Liberty City. Trigger saw a gathering of what he presumed to be homeless people, exchanging stories and food. Trigger fell intentionally back onto his bed. Was it too early to call Sammy for a job? He took his mobile off the bedside table and scrolled through his contacts. Trigger found Sammy and called him.

“Hey Sammy, it’s me, Trigger. Did I wake you?” asked Trigger, sitting up on his bed.
“No, no. I can’t sleep, the f*cking rain’s keeping me up,” replied Sammy, “oh, and I just wanna’ say you did a bang-up job the other day, our contractor is a very happy, and slightly less wealthy man,” chuckled Sammy.
“Ha, all in a day’s work, mate. I was just wondering if you have any jobs goin’ for me?”
“Aha, thirsty for more, eh? Well in fact I do have something. Rumor has it the Pegorino family has a large shipment coming in tomorrow night. Come over to the mansion later on today if you’re interested.”
“Alright, sounds good. ‘In a bit, Sammy.”

Trigger slid his phone shut and pocketed it. The rain was finally letting off, giving him a chance to get some shut-eye. The following morning Trigger woke up and got dressed. He quickly text-messaged Sammy, explaining he was ready to be picked up. It was a sunny spring morning, the sun had evaporated most of the puddles, placed there by last night’s rain A few minutes later a black Sentinel pulled up infront of Trigger’s apartment. The car shone in the sunlight, it was obviously well taken care of. But what really caught Trigger’s eye were the huge silver rims. He got in quickly, and found out the driver was Alfie Harris, one of the men who remained faithful to the Gambetti family. He was medium height man with spiky blonde hair. Alfie was wearing a pinstriped suit, with a red tie.
“Hey Trigger!” said Alfie excitedly, as he hopped in the car.
“Alright, Alfie? How’ve you been?”
“Fine thanks, but I’m really nervous about this job, it sounds dangerous,”
“You’ll be fine, bruv’. Just keep your head and it’ll be no problem.”
Trigger and Alfie immersed in conversation as they drove through Broker. In Trigger’s opinion, this was the worst area of Liberty. Mainly mobs occupied Broker, but the odd gang thrived. They crossed the Broker Bridge, one of many bridges that connected Broker and Algonquin. Trigger loved Algonquin. Enormous skyscrapers loomed over them, blocking out the sun as they traveled by them. Billboards were everywhere, advertising things like Pisswasser and Ammu-Nation. The one bad thing about Algonquin was the traffic. It took Trigger and Alfie half an hour to get from one end of town to the other. Finally they arrived at the Gravelli Mansion.

Trigger and Alfie strode up to the door and knocked.
“Ahh, the boys!” exclaimed Sammy, “come in, come in.” They did so, Trigger shutting the door behind him. They both greeted Sammy and sat down on the green leather sofa.
“Before we start the briefing, I’d like to introduce you to Carl, he’s a new recruit and will be joining you on your mission today. A very muscular, tall black man strode into the room. He was bald and had a black goatee.
“Holla,” greeted Carl as he saluted Alfie and Trigger.
“Now let’s get down to business,” stated Sammy, “as you all know you’ll be hitting a Pegorino shipment. We don’t know what the shipment is, but we do know when and where it’ll be imported. Charge Island at midnight. You’re best bet is to sneak in there, it’ll be heavily guarded. Your main objective is to blow the shipment sky-high, but if you can take anything, that’s a bonus. Oh, and take your pick of weapons.” Sammy opened up a chest of various weapons, ranging from shotguns to grenade launchers and from pipe bombs to assault rifles. Trigger took a combat pistol and fitted on a silencer. He also swiped a knife and some pipe bombs.

Alfie rolled up in his Sentinel at Charge Island with Trigger and Carl. They looked to the docks, the tinted windows hiding their identities. Trigger could see men armed with assault rifles wearing ski masks, patrolling the area.
“Mercenaries,” stated Carl, a look of loathing fixated on his face. Mercenaries? This must be one hell of a shipment. When the boys had scoped out the area, Trigger said: “alright, let’s ‘ave ‘em.” They left the car silently, gripping their weapons eagerly. “Silencers on,” whispered Alfie. Darkness had engulfed Charge Island, and the rain was back. Charge Island wasn’t such a nice place. There was warehouses scattered everywhere, crates littered around the docks, but it was full of life. People were carrying crates into trucks; Trigger guessed that this was the shipment they were after. The three of them fitted their silencers, and crept to the first two guards. They were speaking in Russian to eachother. Trigger and Carl swept their hands to the guard’s mouths and slit their throats. The knives cut through their skin like butter, and then the windpipes broke. One of the mercs died instantly, the other dropped to his knees gasping for air. Trigger kicked him in the back of the head as hard as he could. He was dead. Trigger felt no remorse for the man he had just killed. So much pain had impacted his life already, and he had also served out a lot of pain. The lads dragged the bodies into a nearby container. Carl and Trigger put on the mercs outfits, while Alfie was left without a disguise. Another merc was smoking, looking out to sea by the water’s edge. Small waves hit the side of the dock, making a distractingly relaxing sound. Carl charged at him, dunking his head in the ocean. The man couldn’t resurface; Carl kept the guard’s head underwater. Suddenly a group of mercs approached. “Hurry up, Carl!” muttered Trigger, surely they would be spotted. Carl took out his pistol and shot the guard in the head. The water around the dead guard turned an eerie red. Blood. The mercs had spotted Trigger, Alfie and Carl; they unsheathed their weapons and sprinted at them.

Trigger aimed at ones chest, firing off the gun. Blood splattered from the man’s torso and he fell. They all ran into cover behind two large blue containers. Alfie lit a pipe bomb, and winged it round the merc’s cover. It exploded and the men screamed. A leg flew out into the open, tossing blood everywhere. The screams continued. “Flank ‘em!” ordered Trigger, as Alfie crept round the container and found one merc legless, and the others intact. Alfie smashed the first’s head against the container, his head splitting instantly. He put his weapon arm over the injured merc, using him as a human shield. Alfie shot at the remaining mercs, then his shield. “Nice,” commented Carl. The guards were all dead, and the other workers ran away. “Let’s get some boxes on this truck and get the hell out of ‘ere!” shouted Trigger, getting to work on the boxes. “Alfie, get some bombs on the other trucks and blow ‘em up!” Trigger got in the forklift truck and started loading up boxes. Carl helped, but without the use of a forklift truck. Every so often they heard the odd explosion; Alfie was obviously doing his job. Trigger heard some tires screech, and black cars emerged, boxing them in. “F*ck!” screamed Trigger, “reinforcements! Get the truck and we’ll shake ‘em off!” They didn’t need to be told twice.

Trigger drove straight into the reinforcements, totaling the one car. The other, however, chased them and remained tight on their tail. Carl was in the back, shooting at the car, shouting “die motherf*ckers!” while Alfie was in the passenger seat using his Micro SMG out of the window. The car retaliated, attempting to blow the truck up. They were now out of Charge Island and the chase continued through the busy streets of Algonquin. The enemy car rammed the truck from behind; it swung from side to side, finally hitting a random car. It spun, airborne, and then it fell to the ground, hitting another innocent car. Trigger braked sharply, then the car swerved, and hit another car. The men flew through the windscreen. “Wow. They should have been wearing their seatbelts,” breathed Alfie. Carl and Trigger chuckled. They dropped the truck off at the Gravelli Mansion.
“Hey, y’all wanna’ go for some beers?” asked Carl.

  • Big_Mitch_Baker

    =Å= Angels of Death - Founder

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Posted 17 October 2009 - 03:38 AM Edited by Big_Mitch_Baker, 08 November 2009 - 07:47 PM.

Angels of Death

The Epic Chronicle of Johnny Malvado

Chapter 3: Curses are for Fools

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: Homebrewed Negotiations

Malvado pulled into the driveway of an upscale townhouse situated on the corner of Franklin street and Concord avenue. The sounds of children playing in the nearby Steinway Park made him feel out of place, as did the civilians who pointed and stared in dismay wondering what business he had in their quiet neighborhood. Having a patch on his back was reason enough for people to panic. He killed the engine of his Zombie, and began up the steps. It was a nice red brick terrace with a green awning and a red door, however all the buildings there looked similar and Malvado wasn't sure he had the right place. He peered into the circular window on the door, but couldn't get a view of the interior. He knocked three times and waited for a response, and when there was none he began back down the steps. Suddenly the door opened and a woman stepped out.

"Johnny? Is that you?" She asked. Malvado turned around and locked eyes with the woman.
"Gwen, I didn't think you were home" he responded
"Oh my God! It is you!" She said, cupping her hands over her nose and mouth.
"Yeah...It's been a while, I almost didn't recognize you" Malvado lied. Her face was something he'd never forget.
"You still look the same", she also lied...She didn't recall his face being so scarred last time they talked.
"Are you going to invite me in?" Malvado asked, to which she nodded her head and waved him to enter.

Malvado stepped into the house, which belonged to Gwens husband. It was modest looking for an FIB agent, yet still very expensive. Gwen led him to the kitchen, which was adorned with marble counter tops and glass tile walls. Light poured in, which contrasted the usually dark dank places he frequented. Gwen and Malvado had dated when they were younger, and for quite a long time. She was the only person he ever loved, and when she left him he began to become cold and indifferent to the world. It was his main motivation to join the army, to escape the life that was crumbling around him. It may have even been the reason he joined a Motorcycle club to live with a death wish...

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked.
"Sure, black" he responded
"I remember how you like it..." she said with a smile. "So what brings you here? It's been months...no years...since you've dropped by."
"Yeah, I have a favor to ask" he replied. Her smile weened a bit, as she was hoping he had come just to visit.
"What is it hun?" She queried him
"I need you to help me get some information from you husband" he said, knowing her reaction was likely to be poor.
"If he even knew you were here he'd be furious" she said.
"I don't care what he thinks" he retorted.
"You don't have to live with him" she said as she turned around with a pot of hot coffee. She poured him a cup, and he proceeded to pull out a flask of whiskey and pour in some shots.
"I need you to find out everything you can about the Westdyke Chapter...anything the FIB knows about their activities."
"Why don't you ask them yourself?"
"Their dead" he responded in his typically cold manner. "Their old clubhouse is now being rented by that mick, Bucky Sligo, so it ain't likely there's any evidence left..."
"Evidence? What are you a P.I. now?" she joked. Malvado sat expressionless as always.
"God, you're always so distant..." she added at his lack of reaction. He just stared back at her silently.
"I know you still blame me for what happened between us...I was young, I didn't know what I wanted. You know I never wanted to hurt you John..." she pleaded. It fell on deaf ears, and Malvado continued his silence as he swigged his Irish coffee. Gwens demeanor changed from pleasant to confrontational as she awaited him to say something, anything.
"My husband is going to be home any minute now, I think you should leave..." she said as she pointed to the door. Malvado got up slowly and methodically placed his coffee down and headed for the door. Gwen was hoping she'd get some sort of human reaction from him, maybe a request to stay longer and explain himself, but Malvado did no such thing. As he opened the front door to leave, he turned and looked into her eyes. They were angry, but there was obviously still a lot of love in there.

"So...Can you do that favor for me?" he asked. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.
"Yes I can do it...for you...but I'm not sure how to ask my husband for that information without an explanation"
"You're a smart girl...You'll think of something" he said as he continued down the stairs outside.

She cracked a tiny, almost undetectable smile, and then retreated back into the house. As Malvado got on his bike his phone rang. It was Joe Jon.

"Whadda ya need Boss?" Malvado asked as he answered the phone.
"Malvado! Get you're ass over to your scrapyard, we got business to take care of" Joe Jon said, then promptly hung up before any follow-up questions could be asked. Malvado started up his Zombie and headed to the Rusty Schit scrapyard. It wasn't only a place of business, but Malvado also happened to live there. He slept in the back of an old Burrito van that no longer had an engine. He could afford a house with all his ill-gotten gang land profits, but preferred to live with no fixed address. He considered it a form of freedom that the civilians would never understand. As he pulled into the scrapyard, he saw Joe Jon and "Big" Al Lawson talking next to their bikes while a few other members were standing around them. A lot of Prospects were also hanging around. Malvado parked his bike around the side instead of with the others, a decision that would benefit him later. As he approached Big Al put his arm around his shoulders and gave him a hearty greeting. Malvado gave him a look, as if to say "get your arm off me", but it didn't phase Big Als jovial spirit.

"So what's going down Joe Jon?" Malvado asked
"There's a deal going down in Chinatown, we gotta get there five minutes ago" Joe Jon said in an attempt to hurry things along.
"What kind of deal?" Malvado asked
"Don't worry about it Brother, I'll explain when we get there" Joe Jon responded. When Joe Jon didn't explain something, it meant he didn't want you to know, which in turn was bad news.
"You, Me, Al and Tank there are gonna pile into this van..." Joe Jon started
"f*ck that, I ain't going...I'm too old for that sh*t" Big Al interrupted
"You're comin' with and that's final" Joe Jon barked. Big Al wasn't thrilled about being told what to do by someone younger than himself, but he respected the chain of command. Joe Jon turned toward Malvado and continued.
"We're takin' this van and leaving our bikes here...The engines might spook somebody" he said.
"Spook somebody? This isn't a deal it's a robbery isn't it?" Malvado asked
"What's it to ya? Just get in the f*ckin' van" Joe Jon ordered.

The four of them got into the Burrito, which was covered in AoD graffiti, and Joe Jon drove to Chinatown. They parked in adjacent to an alleyway and peered down it. There were several Triads unloading bagged bricks from sports cars and placing it into a box truck. The Angels of Death often delt with the Jaoming Triads for Heroin, but they held no loyalty to them, as was about to become apparent. A chinese man in a beige trench coat seemed to be overseeing the operation.

"So what are we stealing this time?" Malvado asked, as he seemed to be the only one unaware of what they were doing.
"Horse, and a lot of it" Big Al responded. Joe Jon punched him in the arm for giving away the secret.
"The cats outta the bag...These Triads just got a f*ck load of heroin for dirt cheap...seems their boys back in Red China think the sh*t is cursed" Joe Jon explained.
"Cursed? That's f*ckin' stupid" Malvado said
"Well lets do them a favor and release them from their burden" Joe Jon said with a wicked smile as he loaded his shotgun.

Malvado pulled out a baggie of Meth, as did the rest of them, and they began doing bumps. Malvado poured some of the crystal powder into the webbing of skin between his thumb and index finger and inhaled it through his nose. He waited a few seconds, then began to feel himself tweaking. He did another bump for good measure, then nodded to the rest that he was good to go. They opened the van doors and rushed into the alley catching the Jaoming Triads by surprise. The four of them shouted for everyone to get on the ground, however they refused to comply. Half of them didn't speak english, the other half were stunned. Tweaking on meth made Joe Jon more jumpy and irritable than normal, and he didn't want to wait for the Triads to comply. He shot one of them, which in turn caused the rest of the Angels to start firing without reason. The Triads reached for their guns but had no time before they were torn apart by buck-shot. When the firing stopped the Triads were all dead, save for the man in the trench coat who managed to escape down another alleyway.

"You let that f*cker get away" Joe Jon accused Malvado
"Who Me? f*ck off" Malvado retorted
"Lets get this done, I hear sirens" Big Al interjected as he tossed Tank and Malvado a couple of duffel bags. The two hopped up into the box truck and began loading the bricks of heroin into the bag until they were bursting at the seams. The sirens were growing closer and closer, which would have caused a great deal of anxiety in a normal person. But these were no ordinary men, these 'Angels' were animals with no sense of reprisal.
"We're all loaded up" Tank said, and they all headed back to the van. They walked causally, as if the gauntlet of police on their way was of no consequence to them. The van doors slammed shut and they drove away just as the cops arrived at the scene.

"Now that's a lot of Arm Candy" Joe Jon commented, giddy like a child on Christmas
"That guy got away...They're gonna know it was us and come looking for this sh*t" Big Al said with concern
"sh*t Al, you need to borrow my big boy pants? I ain't afraid of them ch*nks, they want it back they can buy it" Joe Jon explained.
The rest of the ride was quiet until they reached the Rusty Schit scrapyard, which was full of cops and bodies. It looked like a war had broken out while they were gone.

"What the f*ck is this?!" Joe Jon exclaimed as they slowly pulled into the property. A policeman came up to their window and tapped on the glass...Joe Jon rolled down the window.

"What the f*ck happened here?" Joe Jon asked
"I can't comment as we are still investigating" the officer replied, "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave the area"
"I own this property" Malvado told the officer
"Alright you can be here, we have some questions, but your friends are going to have to leave" the officer said
Joe Jon rolled the window back up and ignored him. Malvado noticed a lot of cops examining "the pit" that was still open and lined with glass, which was concerning. Joe Jon had his own concern...

"Where's my bike?" he asked. Sure enough the other bikes were destroyed, but accounted for, with the exception of Malvados bike which was hidden around the side. But there was no sign of Joe Jons Revenant.
"Billy Grey, that son of a Bitch!" Joe Jon shouted causing several officers to stare. Joe Jon happened to acquire the Revenant as a peace offering from The Lost MC when an accident put Joe Jons nephew in a coma. Joe Jon, being the cold hearted bastard he is, took the offer instead of helping his nephew get revenge.
"Don't make a scene man, or did you forget how much sh*t we're sittin' on here" Big Al said. "This was probably the work of the Jaoming, lookin' for the sh*t we just stole"
"No, it's too soon, it had to be Billy Grey" Joe Jon rebutted, knowing that Billy had recently been released from rehab.
"Well lets not jump the gun here, the Lost wouldn't risk startin' the war again" Big Al said as the only voice of reason in the van, although he happened to be wrong in this case. It was also Ironic that Big Al was the one who started the war between the two clubs in the first place, by sleeping with the mother of the former Lost vice president. Though Joe Jon wasn't known to reconsider anything, he respected Big Als opinion.

"Alright, we'll get this figured out...In the mean time, send some Prospects over to The Lost clubhouse in Alderney. Let them weekend warriors know that we're keeping an eye on Billy Grey and the rest of them two-bit punks." Joe Jon ordered.

The Angels had very little respect for The Lost, and had tried in the past to force them to "patch over" to the AoD. In an attempt to keep from getting crushed, The Lost began recruiting en mass. Teenagers, Women, even guys who never owned a Motorcycle were let into the club as extra hands to fight off the AoD invaders. Their sudden boost in numbers kept them alive until the truce was called. Things were about to become quite heated between the two motorcycle clubs...

"We're gonna bring these..." Joe Jon started to say, then noticed the cop still standing at his driver side window.
"We're gonna bring these...Gym Clothes back to the club house. You get sh*t sorted out here and come see me after" he finished saying. Malvado gave him a nod and got out, and they proceeded to back out of the property and drive away.

"I've got some questions to ask you" the officer said as he approached Malvado...

NEXT CHAPTER: This means War

  • aragond

    We are the Aragond. We will bury you.

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Posted 17 October 2009 - 04:03 AM

QUOTE (Colt M14 @ Oct 14 2009, 18:06)
Also, who is Skramz? I haven't seen him around here before.

Loathe, as I am, to be rude, but, um, can I second that?
Are you the rebadging of someone we've known?
Tyla? Is it you?

  • Slingaa

    Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.

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Posted 17 October 2009 - 08:48 PM

Could I buy an ounce of Heroine for the Gambetti Family, if it's okay with the other members of the Family?

  • Benjimino234

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 12:35 AM

God damn Big_Mitch_Baker your stories are loooooooong.

TLTR I think? Too Long To Read.

But I guess they're good quality because your getting +$50. Good job wink.gif

  • Big_Mitch_Baker

    =Å= Angels of Death - Founder

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 05:02 AM Edited by Big_Mitch_Baker, 20 October 2009 - 07:06 PM.

Thank you very much icon14.gif

I admit the last story ran a bit long, had to jam in the aftermath of "Clean and Serene" at the end there...
Next one will be shorter tounge.gif

Edit: I lied, it's just as long if not longer lol

  • skramz


  • Joined: 08 Oct 2009


Posted 18 October 2009 - 05:31 AM

Rating will get done when there is actually enough stories to be rated, if theres on peeve I have its when someone posts a story and expects someone to rate it straight away, wait until around 3-4 stories have been posted or its been 3 days since the last staff activity.

Build Up Your Gang
  • Build Up Your Gang

    Join BUYG Today!

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 05:41 AM Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 18 October 2009 - 05:48 AM.

New Staff

Please welcome veteran writer, WD led-by and ex-inactive BUYG staff member Masterkraft to the BUYG staff. We're still discussing possible candidates for the next addition to our staff.

Activity Check

With two days to go before we clear out the roster, heres whos replied:


Colt M14
El Zilcho

Wreckless Jake
Mr.c TO the J

I'll edit this with ratings and general other news later,


  • tarnell

    Li'l G Loc

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:21 AM

I would like to join the Lost please. BUT can you tell me where marty's bikershop is located? If not then ammunition

Colt M14
  • Colt M14

    BUYGIV: Spanish Lords

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:57 AM

QUOTE (tarnell @ Oct 18 2009, 19:21)
I would like to join the Lost please. BUT can you tell me where marty's bikershop is located? If not then ammunition

Marty's Bikershop is a made up front to add more locations to The Lost. It can be wherever you want it to be.

  • tarnell

    Li'l G Loc

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 09:31 AM

QUOTE (Colt M14 @ Oct 18 2009, 08:57)
QUOTE (tarnell @ Oct 18 2009, 19:21)
I would like to join the Lost please. BUT can you tell me where marty's bikershop is located? If not  then ammunition

Marty's Bikershop is a made up front to add more locations to The Lost. It can be wherever you want it to be.

OHHHH goddamn it, I spent the last 3 days looking for it. Why dont just put street names as locations. So what you saying that I can put that marty's bikershop anywhere in alderney and start writing?

  • Slingaa

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 09:33 AM

I believe you can just start writing, and the staff will sort it out later.

  • tarnell

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 09:41 AM

QUOTE (Slingaa @ Oct 18 2009, 09:33)
I believe you can just start writing, and the staff will sort it out later.

kk thanks smile.gif

  • tubbs51

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 10:31 AM

Jericho “Junior” Harrison
Chapter 1: Freedom has a price

You never know what you have until its gone. It was a phrase Jericho “Junior” Harrison’s mother always used. But it truly hit him until the day he was released from the hellhole known as the Aldernay State Correctional Facility. It was the summer of 2008, Jericho slowly walked down the corridor with a security guard practically attached at the hip of his 6 foot tall, 300 pound frame. Step by step Jericho could smell the comparatively clean air of the Liberty City area. Jericho was just so used to the stale smelling urine stained air he breathed whilst in solitary confinement. Nothing like being locked up for 10 years, especially when it comes to murdering a rival gang member.

Step by step Jericho ran the scene through his head. The day leading up to the gruesome slaying of JoJo Rice, an African American member of The Lost MC. Rice was enjoying an evening at the Hove Beach Pier with his girlfriend. Jericho rode up to the pier on his red custom Highway with the paint glistening in the street lights. Jericho walked up to the happy couple and pulled out a pistol and put two rounds in the back of Rice’s head. It was a through and through, sending pieces of Rice’s forehead splattering all over his girl friend’s face and white lace shirt.

Upon reaching the podium with his belongings in it, Jericho stopped and took a deep breath and savored the warm, delicious, polluted air of Aldernay.
“ Prisoner one-six-nine-three-two, also known as Jericho Harrison, here are the possessions you had on you at the time of arrest.” said the guard unenthusiastically. “ One pair of hiking boots, a pair of army green camouflage pants, one white undershirt, one leather vest, one black leather wallet with twenty-five dollars in it…” he said as Jericho interrupted him.
“Whoa I had five hundred dollars in that goddamn wallet!’
“I’m sorry sir but that’s all you were possessing at the time/” he said in an arrogant tone.
“F**k it. Cheap a** bast*rds. Keep the money.” mumbled Jericho.

After he signed a few papers and changed into his clothes, he was finally a free man. As he walked out the door he saw one of his friends and associate in the Angels of Death MC.

“Hey Junior, what’s up man?” asked the tall, young adult.
“Nothing much Eddie, just enjoying the polluted air man” answered Jericho.
“What’s happened since I was gone?” questioned Jericho.
“Brett died, Julio got deported, Gary Schlosberg, the club’s lawyer, committed suicide.” said Eddie.
“Damn.” said Jericho in surprise.
“I didn’t know lawyers had a conscience.” he stated.
“Yeah he helped a quadruple murderer get off with a slap on the wrist” Eddie explained.

Eddie Roberts and Jericho grew up together in Bohan and both joined the Angels at the same time. As both walked to Eddie’s beaten up Dukes the two reminisced about the times they had growing up. As they drove to the AoD club house a group of rival gang bangers of the Lost MC attacked the two at a stop light with Ak47s and pistols.

“sh*t, grab the gun in my glove compartment Junior,” Eddie shouted in a hail of gunfire.
“Gutsy motherf***ers” Jericho said as he reached into the glove box and grabbed a sub machinegun.

Jericho blind fired out the passenger window as Eddie stepped on the gas pedal. With the screeching of tires and the sound of bullets hitting the car and screams of near by civilians Jericho failed to realize Eddie was struck multiple times fatally. He was bleeding out profusely all over the driver’s seat and the steering wheel. As Jericho looked over at his soon to be dead friend he noticed the holes in his plaid shirt.

“Sh*t Eddie we need to get you to a hospital” Jericho said as Eddie pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“Come on Eddie, don’t die on me man” Jericho said as he was trying to cover up Eddie’s numerous wounds to no avail.

“Some one call 911! Call 911!” Jericho shouted as Eddie drew his last breath while laying up against a red brick wall.

When the EMT’s arrived they pronounced Eddie dead. As a tear ran down the tattooed face of tough man Jericho, he sped off in Eddies car to find whoever planned the attack.

  • .2D

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 11:32 AM

I think I might carry on my storys, so if you could change me from J&B to .2D, ill try and find my last story and carry it on from there. wow.gif

  • tarnell

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 03:04 PM Edited by tarnell, 19 October 2009 - 10:05 AM.

The Lost MC
martys bikershop

Chapter 1: Welcome aboard brother!

Clouds gathered across Alderney and a strong rain poured everywhere and the darkness also found its way in the city. Jason was having a cup of tea, as the old, wooden door of his apartment, suddenly opened with a force. Two middle aged, African – American men entered the house, one was wearing a long white shirt and a long pair of blue jeans, the other one had a black jacket covered in dry blood and some old pair of black jeans, that also had several holes in them. One of them shouted:

‘Put your hands up bitch’. I was shocked and didn’t have the time to even realise what on earth of was happening, the second guy hit me in the head with his pistol, so hard that I passed away. It was 04:00 am when I got attacked. Its now 08: 24 am, I opened my eyes slowly and saw two medics near me, turned my head around a there were three policemen standing and talking, I couldn’t understand what was going on and my sight was blurry. A few seconds later I came back to reality and remembered what happened.

‘Are you ok sir?’ A medic asked me while the other one was lifting me up.

‘Yeah I am fine, thanks’ I said ‘ how much I gotta pay for the services?’

‘That will be 100$ please’ One of the paramedics said

‘Goddamn it, wish you never came’ I nodded and gave one of them the money. The medics left, but the police was still there. I got up slowly of the ground and walk towards the cops that were looking for clues.

‘ Hey, so did you find who was it?’ Jason asked while still having a headache and a bit of confusion.

‘We have found a few clues that might lead us to the people that robbed you, but we need to get them to the station and to investigate them’ one of the officers explained.

‘Ok officer. Ahh and how did you know about all that?’ Jason asked in a surprised way.

‘ One of your neighbours called and told us everything’ a cop said and then they left as well. Jason paid the medics the last 100$ he had.

‘ WTF am I going to do now?’ he asked himself. After a few hours of thinking, he decided to join a gang, there is no other way to survive and the thoughts of leaving school and joining the army was the worse thing he has ever done are getting in his head more often now. It is now midday; Jason has put on his blue jeans, white shirt, old, brown sneakers and made his way outside. After a good 20 minutes waiting a taxi appears far away. ‘Finally’ he was thinking. He got in the taxi and ordered to go to Acter.

‘ Ok here we are! That will cost you 20$ pal’ the taxi driver said in a Greek accent.

‘Sorry friend, I have no money. I’ll pay you next time!’ Jason shouted and run away in some alleyway. After the taxi disappeared he started to look for The Lost MC clubhouse. He was roaming around Acter for hours, but no luck, finally there were some white, middle-aged guys standing around a local shop; they had ‘The Lost MC’ written on their coats. Jason
walked to them.

‘Hey guys, what up! I am looking for The Lost clubhouse, can someone tell me where it is?’ he said in a polite way, but that didn’t impress the bikers. The two of them looked at each other and then one of them replied.

‘HAHAHA, how about you get ‘LOST’ before we kick your ass’
‘Ok I tried to talk nicely, but that didn’t work’ Jason said and punched on of them in the face, which caused him to drop to the floor.

‘You going to be good boys and tell me know?’ he said in a sarcastic way.

‘ f*ck it, ok men go straight forward then turn to your left, you will see a big house with bikes parked outside’ one of them said. Jason headed to the clubhouse, as he approached it, there were people standing outside the building and music was played from several bikes. He then started to approach the bikers and enter the building, as Jason was walking people were rudely staring at him and silence laid over the place with only music playing, soon everything went back to normal when Jason entered the clubhouse. Inside there were people smoking, playing pool, drinking, arm wrestling and talking. The air was heavy and smoke has polluted the whole room. Jason approached a man that was working behind the bar and asked him where is the leader of the gang, he then pointed towards a 50 year old looking man, with grey hair and a big beard, he was wearing some cheap blue jeans and a leather jacket with ‘president’ and ‘John’ written on the front of the jacket and ‘The Lost’ patch on the back. Jason slowly approached John.

‘Hi, I am Jason Brown, I want to join you chapter’

‘Hmmm, why do you want to join kid?’ He asked

‘ Because I have no money and no life. I lost my best friend in Iraq when we were in the army, came back home and found my mother dead and girlfriend moved to San Fierro.’ Jason said and let his head down.

‘Ok that’s a good enough reason, so you saying you were in the army huh? That will be good addition to the gang, can you ride a bike?’

‘Hell yeah, I am professional when it comes to riding bikes!’ Jason said in a ‘proud of myself’ way.

‘Ok, there is a green zombie, parked outside a house near Hickey bridge in Northwood, go get it and come back with it, if you succeed then you are in, if you fail, don’t bother coming back in here, now take the money for the cab, if you complete the mission I’ll give you 100$. Ahh yeah and take this pistol you might need it’ John said and gave Jason the pistol. Jason then made his way outside, got in a taxi and went to the location. He got out of the car and saw a green zombie parked outside a house. Jason then run fast towards the bike, got on and started to drive away, towards the clubhouse, suddenly two bikes joined him, they pulled out pistols and started to fire, Jason quickly pulled his pistol out and a bloody shootout has started while the bike were going on full speed on the highway, after about a minute of hard driving and shooting, Jason noticed a police car speeding down the opposite way, he quickly put his gun in his pocket and moved out of the way, the police car knocked one of the bikers of and left another one still chasing Jason, after a few minutes, Jason has finally lost the attacker in the traffic. He then quietly made his way to the clubhouse. When he arrived John and other members greeted him. As Jason got off the bike John shouted:

‘Welcome aboard brother!’

  • bhlegend

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 07:21 PM

can i be irish mob in Steinway Beer Garden please

  • Slingaa

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 07:43 PM

QUOTE (bhlegend @ Oct 18 2009, 19:21)
can i be irish mob in Steinway Beer Garden please

Write a story in your own time, and the staff will sort it out when they get online.

  • bhlegend

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:06 PM Edited by bhlegend, 19 October 2009 - 07:30 PM.


im the newest kid to join the Irish mob.I was walking down some stairs which led to an alley with another crew member named mac.We were dropping off a bag full of smuggled in drugs.We got to the place and no one was there.

"Mac where are they?"
"I dont know JD they should be here"

suddenly a brick flew threw the air which mac dodged as me and him dived behind a dumpster.

"what was that!" I shouted as i drew a knife from my jacket pocket

we heard people running then felt the dumpster being pushed against us
we dived out one end each to find two men pushing it against the wall
i drove the knife it to one of the mens leg and pushed him to the floor while mac dealt with the other my breaking his neck
i jumped on top of the injured man and shouted "WHY DID U SET US UP!!"
he replyed slowly by saying "we wanted the stuff and the money"
i said back to him in an angry voice "WELL TO BAD" and stamped on his head which knocked him out
i took the knife out of his leg and whipped the blood on his hair then searched his pockets
i found nothing but his phone which i took then walked back to store the drugs

  • Slingaa

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:08 PM

QUOTE (bhlegend @ Oct 18 2009, 20:06)
im the newest kid to join the Irish mob.I was walking down some stairs which led to an alley with another crew member named mac.We were dropping off a bag full of smuggled in drugs.We got to the place and no one was there.

"Mac where are they?"
"I dont know JD they should be here"

suddenly a brick flew threw the air which mac dodged as me and him dived behind a dumpster.

"what was that!" I shouted as i drew a knife from my jacket pocket

we heard people running then felt the dumpster being pushed against us
we dived out one end each to find two men pushing it against the wall
i drove the knife it to one of the mens leg and pushed him to the floor while mac dealt with the other my breaking his neck
i jumped on top of the injured man and shouted "WHY DID U SET US UP!!"
he replyed slowly by saying "we wanted the stuff and the money"
i said back to him in an angry voice "WELL TO BAD" and stamped on his head which knocked him out
i took the knife out of his leg and whipped the blood on his hair then searched his pockets
i found nothing but his phone which i took then walked back to store the drugs

I can see you fitting in well. sarcasm.gif

  • tarnell

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:16 PM

QUOTE (bhlegend @ Oct 18 2009, 20:06)
im the newest kid to join the Irish mob.I was walking down some stairs which led to an alley with another crew member named mac.We were dropping off a bag full of smuggled in drugs.We got to the place and no one was there.

"Mac where are they?"
"I dont know JD they should be here"

suddenly a brick flew threw the air which mac dodged as me and him dived behind a dumpster.

"what was that!" I shouted as i drew a knife from my jacket pocket

we heard people running then felt the dumpster being pushed against us
we dived out one end each to find two men pushing it against the wall
i drove the knife it to one of the mens leg and pushed him to the floor while mac dealt with the other my breaking his neck
i jumped on top of the injured man and shouted "WHY DID U SET US UP!!"
he replyed slowly by saying "we wanted the stuff and the money"
i said back to him in an angry voice "WELL TO BAD" and stamped on his head which knocked him out
i took the knife out of his leg and whipped the blood on his hair then searched his pockets
i found nothing but his phone which i took then walked back to store the drugs

wow lol, thats WAY TOO SMALL and not enough explanation notify.gif

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:37 PM

ok next time ill make them longer

  • tarnell

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 08:59 PM

QUOTE (bhlegend @ Oct 18 2009, 20:37)
ok next time ill make them longer

I suggest you read through other peoples stories and see how they write them, just for inspiration (thats what i do) smile.gif good luck icon14.gif

  • tubbs51

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Posted 18 October 2009 - 10:32 PM

And read Lochie's Rules to writing cause theres lots of gramatical errors but can be fixed if you read the rules and well no offense but anyone that has taken high school english should understand easily.

  • Tycek

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Posted 19 October 2009 - 06:21 PM

The Lost MC chapter five:
"Dog fight"

I didn’t remember how many hours or maybe days had passed since the funeral, because I was so f*cked up on painkillers that I lost contact with reality. The Doc put them into me to stop the pain that occured after I had been shot.
The Doc was called The Doc, because he was the person that took care of us after shootouts or crashes. You can’t go with any injury to the hospital, because someone may start asking some innaprioprate questions. So when you caught a bullet you went to The Doc. I didn’t know his name, but he wanted to be called John. And what more not Johnny, but John. I doubt if it was his real name, because unknown person is reffered as John Doe. Only thing I knew that he had been a doctor some years ago. There were stories that he was very good doctor with a speciality of surgery, but he messed up some operation and a patient, and that was a liitle girl, died on the table. She was 6 years old. Her parents sued The Doc and the trail lasted for about 1,5 years. They found him guilty, so he lost his job and started to drink. His wife couldn’t stand it, so she took their children and left. Doc fell as down as the man can fall. He was drunk for weeks. He lost almost everything excluding house and car. House is now a barely standing ruin without windows and with falling pieces of siding. The car is still standing on the driveway, but now it’s a rusty piece of junk and only shiny badge “Declasse” reflect a better times.
I didn’t know how Doc ended with The Lost, but I heard a story that he helped one of The Lost after some shootout with the cops. After that he became our medic.
Now I was his patient, but his threatment ended up on giving me some painkillers. I was lying in the clubhouse’s room. I woke up, and started to dress up. I put on my black stonewashed jeans, black T-shirt with a picture of red Vigero turned into street machine, black motorcycle boots and black leather jacket with a logo of The Lost MC. When I was ready I went to the main room, but there were only bartender and a girl from the cage sitting by the bar.

“Hi” i said
“Oh. Hello Ralph” bartender said “How are you feeling?”
“Good, thanks man” I answered, but in fact I felt like sh*t.

My arm wasn’t hurting, but I was zonked. Everything in my sight was whirling slightly. But I made another step and another and ... I opened the door, and after some steps another door and left the clubhouse. Bright sun blinded me. My eyes were burning. I closed them and started to open after a while. It was better now.
I had nothing to do, so I thought I can visit Angus in his garage. It was just behind the clubhouse. Small place, but big enough for 4 bikes, tool cabinet and Angus. When he was inside sliding doors were lifted. Today they were, so I went inside.

“Hi Angus” I said
“Oh. Hey. You finally woke up.” he said and put the wrench on the ground
“Finally? How long I was sleeping?” I asked
“About 15 hours. Quite long” He got up from the ground and cleared his hands by rubbing them by his pants. “What are you up to?”
“Today? I don’t know. I don’t think I can drive”
“You know what? Johnny’s gonna be there in few minutes. We will go and eat something. In Cluckin’ Bell maybe. You can drive in the back if you okay with it.”
“Okay, maybe I should eat something. And I’ll ride in the back. World around me is still whirling.
“Hello brothers” Johnny entered the garage. “Ralph what are you talking about?”
“I said that I don’t feel too good after that pills Doc gave me.” I explained.
“Because these pills are for dogs” Johnny said, “So they have a rather strange influence on people.”
“What?” I was shocked “Dog’s pills? Where the hell he got them?”
“From the Kennel.”
“What Kennel?”
“Where the dog fights are taking place.”
“What dog fights? What the hell is going on around me. I must still dreaming.”
“you didn’t know that we have a stake in dog fights, did you? I’ll show you today. Maybe you’ll win some cash. But, now, come on. Let’s go and eat something.”

We left the garage and Angus closed the doors. Johnny got on his new bike. I sat behind him. Angus sat on his Zombie. We started from the clubhouse to the nearest Cluckin’ Bell, which was unfortunately on Star Junction. And that means a lot of way to take. Two bikes were going thru the city. First one silver Hexer with black stripes. Second one – black Zombie with gray tribal vinyl and red rims.
After some time we came to the place. Star Junction full of adverts and full of lights. One of the most recognized places in the worls. Heart of Liberty City pumping money thru the streets of the entire city. Full of glitter and full of lies. Everything was fake here. Fake punk a*s rappers on the streets, fake tits of expensive prostitute and fake money flowing thru the Bawsaq. Well if you have cash you will love this place. So much places to spend your money. Celtica Hotel, Superstar cafe etc. If you were broke as us you have nothing to came here for. Maybe Cluckin’ Bell.
We entered the restaurant. During this time of the day it was rather crowded place.We stood in queue and waited for our turn.

“So, what about this dog fights?”
“I’ve already told you. I’ll show you this place. We’ll go there after eating.”
“Next please.” Said young girl working in the Cluckin’ Bell

Johnny walked up to the counter. He looked quickly on the menu and said.

“I’ll take a Cluckin’ Big Meal with Fowl Wrap”
“What would you like to drink, sir?”
“Here you go sir. That will be 5$”

Johnny paid, took tray with his food and started to find some free table. Most of them were occupied by some young yuppies that were eating their lunches during breaks. Very rich punks thinking that the world belongs to them, because their working up to their sleeves in some huge corporations. They’re working 9 to 5, sometimes even longer, selling their private lives and free time for copule more dollars while their boss is warming his fat a*s, on bahamas or some other island, and drinking drinks from glasses with little umbrellas. And the corporate workers think they’re lucky, because they found a job. If this is the luck then I wanna be the biggest loser in the world.
I got my food, paid for it and went to the table. Johnny just ate his fries and begun eating wrap. Angus came after a while. I sipped some Sprunk and said:

“Johnny what do you think about our situation?”
“Damn. I don’t know. We got russians on our tail, because of the drugs and something strange is happening around us.
“Did Billy talked to Ray?” I asked, because I didn’t know what happened while I was sleeping.”
“Yeah, but what he can do? They don’t want to start fight with the russians. They have problems with other families already. In fact we stole the drugs and we have to deal with the ruskies.”
“Damn it” I answered and started eating my food.

Johnny was right. They didn’t care who wanted to steal the drugs, they cared who stole the drugs. We did it and we got problems. We had to deal with the russians alone without help from the italians. They got enough sh*t on their plates.
We left the restaurant abd got on the bikes. Johnny and Angus started the engines. We went to the west to Booth Tunnel. After some time we were in Tudor. Industrial District placed between Acter and Acter Industrial Park. District full of warehouses you can rent for a low price and sh*tty apartaments. The only thing worth visiting was “Honkers” – strip club owned by the mob. Deadbeats also were in Tudor, but we got some kind of agreement. If they didn’t bother us, we didn’t bother them. The Kennel was also in Tudor on Emery Street. There were two almost identical warehouses standing on a small parcel next to the bridge connecting Tudoe with Acter Industrial.
Johnny and Angus stopped bike in front of the warehouses and we got off. We headed to the building on the left. Johnny pressed the handle and opened the doors. Stink of death, blood and dogs went outside and hited us. It was nothing new for us, but I felt sick. I tried to fight with it and I won. I breathed deeply few times and I entered the building. It was pretty big inside, but one thing was strange. Big building without any windows.The whole interior was lit only by long lights hanging from the ceilling. In front of us was standing big cage with shape of cube with sides 2 meters long. There were also two small cages near the opposite walls of the big cage and there were connecting gates between them. The crowd around the cage means something big was going inside. Sound of growling was coming from the arena. We came closer and saw two dogs fighting for life. They were trying to grab an opponent throat and ripped it. One of the dogs – black rottweiler called Butch was pretend to win. He was bigger than his opponent – black and white bullterrier. Bigger and more violent. He finally put his opponent to the ground and ripped his throat. He was standing over dead body with blood dribbling from his teeth. Kennel workers put Butch to his cage and grabbed dog carcass from the ground. They carried it away by rear door and threw it to the canal separating Tudor from Acter Industrial.

“What do you think about it?” Johnny aksed me.
“I don’t know. It’s pretty weird. Like I’m still sleeping or something.”
“It’s real brother. If you like to bet talk to this guy over there.”

I looked there and I saw guy standing near the cage. He was member of Gunthugs MC. We worked with them sometimes. It looked like they also got other things to do. I came to him and asked.

“You taking bets?”
“Yeah, you wanna bet?”
“I’m thinking about it. What about Butch?”
“He is just after fight. He won’t be fighting in next few days. He’s got to rest. Maybe some other dogs?”
“No, thanks man.”

I got back to Johnny and Angus They were talking to some Gunthugs MC member. I stood nearby and I was waiting for them. It seems like there won’t be any dog fights today. People from the Kennel took the cage with Butch and started to clean the blood. They were cleaning concrete floor using fire hose. It looked like they had everything worked out. Violent fights, big cash, something for everyone.
My phone started ringing, so I took it out and checked the display. It was Tommy, so I answered.

“Ralph. Thank god you answered.” His voice sounded kinda weird, like he was shocked or maybe scared. “You’ve got to help me. Quick, I don’t have much time.”
”Wait, where are you?”
“Multistory carpark in Leftwood. Come, quick. Please.”

He ended the call. I hid my phone and ran to Johnny.

“Johnny, come on. Tommy has some problems. He’s at the carpark in Leftwood. We’ve got to be qiuck.”

We ran from the warehouse and jumped on the bikes. Two engines started with loud, humming noise. We rushed to the north...

  • bhlegend

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Posted 19 October 2009 - 08:02 PM Edited by bhlegend, 20 October 2009 - 08:13 PM.

Chapter 1

The Exchange

i have just woke up.im running late.i eat some breakfast and quickly get down to my car to go to the exchange point.i have been given a much bigger task this time and i must drop an important irish man named Mr Mcourt to the airport.i dont know anything about him exept that he has been here for buissness with Gerry McReary and he needs to get back to ireland safely.

im at the exchange point where he his swapping to my car to make sure no one is following him.he gets in the back of my car with 2 bodyguards that will acompany me on the way.

Mr Mcourt was first to speak "hey driver,get me there quick,i dont want myself going back to ireland in a coffin"
I replied "yes sir we'll be there as quick as possible"
"well driver lets go instead of talking"

as i turn around the corner of the street i feel the front end of the car go down and hear a bursting noise and then the back end goes down.armed men come out of alleyways on both sides of the road and start shooting at us.the bodyguards and i fire back using weak pistols compared to their ak 47s but eventually kill them.we jump out of the car and dash towards one of the alley ways and keep running down towards the street were two men pop out and shoot down one of the guards.me and the over guard retaliate well and kill them.we ran out onto the road and steal a womens car.i started driving in a rush to quickly get Mr Mcourt to the airport.

bullets then come flying into our car as three men on motorbikes appear behind us
"im doing my best sir"

im going so fast down this road i can only just see were i am going.i suddenly crash into the back of a car infront of me.the guard in the seat next to me shoots out of the windscreen as i was lucky enough to put my seatbelt on.two of the bikes crash into the back of me and fly over my car where one of them smashs on to my bonnet.i pull out my pistol and shoot hime twice in the chest and once in the neck.me and Mr Mcourt make a break out of our car and i shoot the over biker off of his bike.we get on the bike and drive onwards to the airport.

we get to the airport were two cars full of men our waiting for us.i stop and get off pf the bike with Mr Mcourt and sneak over to another car.

"driver what are we gonna do with them stood there?"
"by the way my name is JD and im trying to think about that now"

my thinking is stopped when a silver rocket flies into the side of one of the cars and it explodes and the men climb out of the second car with their guns drawn.
a green car pulls up which shoots down the men one by one.i see the driver of the car is mac and i walk to the car.

"thanks mac you saved our asses then"
"yeh we saw you were having trouble when you crashed your car"
"well JD i need to get on this airoplane quickly,you never know if more come"
"ok lets go,see ya later mac"

i wave Mr Mcourt goodbye as he steps onto the airoplane and get a taxi back to the beer gardens were i meet mac for a beer.

  • tubbs51

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Posted 20 October 2009 - 02:51 AM Edited by TUBBSthezombie, 20 October 2009 - 02:59 AM.

no offense bhlegend but thats long and filled with so many gramatical errors. like Tarnell said, go back through the pages and see what the staff here want to see from any author. not to be mean but i was wondering if english was your native tongue. Captialize the word at the beginning of sentences. i suggest you type up stories on Microsoft word or another typing program with spell/grammar check cause it will make your story a little bit better and a little bit easier to read. it got confusing when you didnt say who said what. EX: "yeh we saw you were having trouble when you crashed your car" Mac explained. that makes it easier to follow and easier for the staff to grade your story. and mind you if its an abrieviation it shouldnt be in your story unless its for a city/state/province cause no one says "see ya" as an abbrieviation. Please also put spaces in between sentences and after a comma, semi colon, colon and other marks. once again it gets confusing and an eyesore when all the letters are close together. go to this link and read up on all of the rules and Lochie's Guide To Writing.

good luck i have hope that you can churn out a great story but just take all of the advice on the front page and other stories as help in your journey here at BUYG IV

Tycek: nice story man. a couple para graphs were a tad bit blocky and big. try to seperate them a little but a good read nonetheless.

  • Big_Mitch_Baker

    =Å= Angels of Death - Founder

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Posted 20 October 2009 - 07:01 PM Edited by Big_Mitch_Baker, 08 November 2009 - 07:49 PM.

Angels of Death

The Epic Chronicle of Johnny Malvado

Chapter 4: This means War

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: Curses are for Fools

“I've got some questions to ask you...”

The officer approached Malvado with a notepad in his hands, ready to take down any incriminating information he might let slip. There wasn’t much chance of that, Malvado chose his words carefully. The officer didn’t don a cap, and he was wearing a trench coat instead of the usual uniform, so it was obvious he was a detective. He also happened to be Mulatto, striking an uncanny resemblance to Billy Dee Williams. His name tag said “Leroy”.

“Shoot” Malvado responded
“Do you have any outstanding warrants for your arrest?” Leroy asked
“Not that I’m aware of” he said, although chances were he did have some
“So if I run your name through the computer I’m not gonna get any surprises?” Leroy questioned. Malvado simply shrugged.
“Alright then...do you have any idea who may have been involved in this incident? Or why?”
“No, haven’t the foggiest” Malvado bluffed
“Really? We got a half dozen dead bodies on your property, and you don’t have any clue how or why?” Leroy continued
“What part of ‘No’ don’t you understand?” Malvado retorted
Leroy looked a bit frustrated, and began scribbling notes onto his pad.
“Alright then, I have no more questions...We’re gonna be here a while, I suggest you go find somewhere else to be until we’re done”
Malvado ignored his request and walked over to his Zombie. Luckily it had come through the confrontation unscathed. He got on and slowly drove it out to the street.
“Tell you’re friends we got our eyes on them” Leroy ambiguously threatened as Malvado drove away.

The air was cold that day, as the fall weather gripped the city. Malvado pulled a bandana down over his face to keep him warm as he sped toward the Algonquin clubhouse. As he came down the Union Dr. offramp the scene was familiar... Angels arm wrestling on a barrel in the corner, prostitutes paying up their dues, and a general slew of badass bikers hanging around drinking and smoking the chronic. However a charity “run” was about to go down, and the clubhouse would be left nearly empty. Malvado parked his bike and went inside. Everyone was getting drunk and stoned in preparation for the long ride, with the exception of Rocket Ronny who was smoking crack in the basement. Malvado approached “Big” Al, who was flirting with a woman who was young enough to be his grand daughter.
“Hey Al, is that run goin’ on today?” Malvado asked
“Yeah man, suppose you forgot? That ain’t like you man.” Al said. It was true, Malvado was usually on the ball, however the recent mystery of the Westdyke Chapter had caused his mind to wander. “Rocket is lookin’ for ya, he’s downstairs” Al added. Malvado nodded respectfully and proceeded to the weight room. Rocket Ronny was standing there smoking crack from a broken lightbulb, while Prospect Bird stood beside him admiring the duffel bags full of Heroin just sitting out in the open. Bird grabbed at the lightbulb for a hit, but Rocket Ronny pulled away unwilling to share.

“What ‘r ya fools up to?” Malvado asked
“Malvado! Just the man I wanted to see” Rocket said. He leaned in close to Malvado so Bird couldn’t eavesdrop. “Did you find out anything about the boys in Westdyke yet?” he asked.
“Not yet, I’m workin’ on it” Malvado answered
“I see...You think you could help me out with somethin’ today man?” Rocket inquired
“Well I guess I don’t really need to go on todays run, so yeah, whatta ya need?” Malvado asked
“There’s this fag who owes me some money, but every time I see him all he’s got are excuses...was thinkin’ maybe you and me could go out and teach him some respect” Rocket said
“Sure man, I’m always ready to hand out some beat downs” Malvado responded

The two of them left the clubhouse. Prospect Bird, alone in the basement, allowed his greed to get the better of him. Perhaps if he wasn’t a junkie, the risk he was about to take would have deterred him. He got on his cell phone and made a call...
“Hello? Is this Ray Boccino?” Bird asked
“Who is this? How’d you get this number?” the voice on the other end asked
“Nevermind that, I have an opportunity for you. I know where there’s a f*ck load of heroin just waiting to be taken, and I’ll tell you where if you cut me in for half” Bird continued.
“Sounds tempting alright, I’ll agree to split it with you...I got just the guys to go get it too, they owe me some money” the voice responded, knowing damn well he had no intention of sharing any of it with Bird.

Malvado and Rocket Ronny arrived at Club Hercules, a place their target frequented often. They parked their bikes across the street and attempted to enter the club, but were stopped by the manager.

“Whoa, wait a minute there holmes...” The manager said in a mild Latino accent.
“What’s the problem?” Malvado asked
“Chu can’t be comin’ in here lookin’ like you just got off the set of Mad Max. There’s a dress code.” the manager explained.
“What about that f*ckin’ guy?” Malvado said as he pointed toward a man inside with a leather jacket.
“His jacket isn’t covered in sh*t” the manager said. “Besides, I can tell you two ain’t gay so I can only assume you’re here for trouble...Tony Prince doesn’t need any mo’ problems.”
Malvado contemplated knocking the Dominican out and just walking in, but their target would likely escape as they contended with security.
“Thanks for nothin’ Paco” Ronny said as they walked away
“The name’s Luis you racist pricks!” the manager exclaimed

Malvado and Rocket Ronny waited across the street for hours until Ronny spotted the man leaving the club. Unfortunately he also took notice of them, and began running.
“sh*t, I hate it when they make me chase ‘em” Malvado said as he started up his bike. He barreled down the street with Rocket Ronny in tail.
“Please God don’t let them kill me! I’ll build a church in your honor! I swear I’ll never take another Married Man, I promise!” the man pleaded to the air as he ran for his life. Malvado pulled out his pistol as they rode past and shot the man in the leg. He fell to the ground holding the wound and squirming in pain. They stopped their bikes and walked over to the man, who was now attracting a crowd of concerned citizens. Malvado shoved them out of the way and leaned in close to the man.
“You see this guy here? You owe him money...What makes you think you can shirk your debts to the Angels of Death?” Malvado asked as he lifted the man by his collar and slammed him into a nearby wall.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll pay! Don’t hurt me anymore!” the man begged. Malvado dropped him back onto the sidewalk. Rocket Ronny took the mans wallet as interest on the money owed.
“You’re pathetic” Malvado said as they got back onto their bikes and sped away.

As they headed back toward the clubhouse, they could see smoke billowing from something in the area. Police cruisers and Fire trucks raced past them, and somehow Malvado got the feeling they were all headed to the same place. Sure enough they rode down towards the clubhouse to see it in flames. Once again bodies littered the area, those members and prospects that didn’t leave to go on the charity run. Prospect Bird happened to be upstairs at the time when the fire broke out, and the firefighters found his charred corpse on the staircase. Malvado could only wonder if it was the Jaoming Triads taking back their heroin, or if it was The Lost making a power play. Either way, War was brewing...

NEXT CHAPTER: Bothering Boccino

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