The Lost and Damned
The Ballad of Gay Tony
BUYG: Build Up Your Gang IV
Posted 05 January 2010 - 08:04 PM
Posted 05 January 2010 - 08:33 PM
The Pegorino Mansion
The Bastard Son
“The Russians were selling the Ancelotti’s fake cash”, Louie stated, not knowing exactly what the response would be.
“sh*t. Look Lou- get down to Westdyke hospital. It’s Ray, he didn’t get out too good, if you know what I mean”. Jimmy sounded worried.
“f*ck. I’m sorry I left you. I had to go after the Russian”.
“It’s ok Lou. The whole city found out about how you took down that pilot. They’ll know us Pegorinos are back. Now get down to the hospital. I’ve got business to take care of”.
“Look. Just do what I say. I’m your uncle”, Jimmy always wanted to be in control, although Louie was the same sort of person. This time, Louie knew Jimmy was serious.
“Alright. See you later”. Louie hung up the mobile. He flipped through a wad of the cash, and put it back in the briefcase. Rain started pouring violently against the side of his windows. Now back at his home, Louie felt more relaxed. He didn’t really want to go out, but he knew that he brought young Ray into this mess. He had to seem him out.
Louie left the warm, homely interior of his north Alderney house, and quickly ran from the rain, into the sleek and stylish Coquette. He started the engine, and kept it on for a while. He turned the heater on to full blast, and waited for a minute or two, rubbing his hands together. He eventually put his foot down, and headed down the road to the hospital. It was too cold to walk. The cold April mornings that have passed recently has made Louie want to stay in, and leave the family dealings with his uncle.
He parked just on the sidewalk, about 20 yards from the main entrance. He briskly jogged up the shallow steps and walked through the automatic doors. Inside, it was warm, friendly and quiet. Louie’s urges for a cigarette have been coming back. The recent stress with the family has made him want to just light up a thick one and just inhale. Inhale until his problems disperse in a smoky, nicotine cloud.
Louie wiped his dry lips with his coarse, rough hand. He walked up to the reception lady and asked to see Ray. After receiving direction to ward 5, he briskly started walking, reading the signs which were hung on the ceiling. Louie kept both his hands level with his lips, and rubbed them against each other. It was the only thing that Louie could do which made him feel relaxed. Like he was holding a slender cigarette.
As Louie walked through to Ward 5, the only bed that was taken up was Ray’s. Ray was sat upright, but with his eyes closed. The door entered into the room on the right hand side, so Louie looked leftwards to find Ray.
Louie recognised Ray’s innocent, sleepy, weary face quickly. He rested his hand over his chest, and closed his eyes. He was practising a prayer he would always do when someone he loved was in trouble. His granddad taught him that it could save someone from death. When Louie’s dad died, his faith in god, and in the Roman Catholic religion almost died. But recently Louie felt like this was his new family.
Ray’s eyes slowly opened. His dark brown eyes were first fixed upwards towards the ceiling, but then lowered and looked left, to Louie. Louie forced a weak smile.
“Sorry I got you into that kid”. Louie looked into Ray’s eyes. He already knew what he was thinking.
“My dad”. Ray forced the words out, but it wasn’t easy for him to speak.
“I know- his murderer”. Ray’s eyes weren’t bright anymore. They were dark, and angry.
Louie raised his hand off Ray’s chest, and lowered his head so that he could hear him speak.
“A man. With- a scar across his right cheek”. Ray said hoarsely, as he moved his hand against his cheek”.
Louie raised his head again slowly. His eyes didn’t move. The Ancelotti with the scar across his cheek. He knew him. Everyone in the city knew him. The same man that took away Louie’s father. Alessandro. The shortest Ancelotti. He stood at five five, and had an empty mouth. He had only about 10 teeth. They were knocked out after he was shot in the face once. He was notoriously hard. Hardly anyone spoke off him, especially no Pegorino, after what he did.
Louie lowered his head again, and spoke into Ray’s ear.
“Alessandro Ancelotti. The bastard son”. He whispered.
“Son of who?”
“The boss of the Ancelotti Family, Micky Ancelotti”.
“I have to kill him. That bastard son. It’s what my father would have wanted me to do”. Ray said, tensing his arms. He felt so useless stuck to the bed. He wanted to get up, and make a difference.
“Look, Ray. How do you know he kil- how do you know it was him”?
“He had me. I was on the floor, bleeding. And then- he stood over me. He smiled. He- his teeth were missing. And he whispered. I killed Giovanni. He knew I was his son”. Tears left Ray’ eyes. Louie stood, patted Ray on the shoulder, and left.
“How long will Ray be kept in?” Louie asked hurriedly.
“Uh, about a week or two. Then we’ll see if he’s made an improvement on his condition”. The nurse said.
“Whatever. Just make sure he gets the finest medical help”. Louie said, slipping a $20 bill into the nurse’s breast pocket.
“Sir- please, we’re doing all we can, there’s nothing else we”-
Louie slipped another $20 into her pocket.
“Uh, right. We’ll do what we can. I’ll see you later sir”. She smiled.
“The names Louie. Louie Pegorino. See you later ma’am”.
Louie left the warmth of the hospital, and rubbed his hands together again. His phone rang.
“Hey Lou. I got some information on that fake cash you collected from the Russians. Turns out they received it after selling a high amount of drugs to the Ancelotti’s”.
“f*ck. The Ancelotti’s are ripping of their own allies? Look, we own the drugs racket in this city. I want them to know this”. Louie argued.
“Hey hey hey- who runs this family?”
“Ferrari Pegorino. But he’s gone now, and it’s time for me to step up to plate”.
“f*cks sake Lou. You don’t have to remind me about your dad. Whats wrong”? One of the few times Jimmy actually sounded sincere.
“Look. Ray found out who killed his dad”.
“What do you mean”? Louie asked, using his free hand to wipe his dry lips.
“I didn’t want you to know, seeing as it would make you angrier. I didn’t want you growing up angry. I didn’t tell you because it was best for you”.
“WHAT”? You knew it was Allesandro, that bastard”?
“I’m sorry. You already knew he- what he did to your dad. I didn’t want you knowing what he did to Giovanni”.
“Yeah well, Ray knows. And he wants revenge. I want revenge. And now we’re strong enough, we can take it”. Louie’s eyes were bright, and enthusiastic. He’s wanted revenge for what happened for years.
“Look, I know how you must feel, but we’re into something. I’m calling Sonny and the boys over. We’re going to kick out the drugs competition. Then we’ll see about the bastard”.
“Whatever”. Louie hung up the phone, and started up the Coquette.
Posted 07 January 2010 - 04:23 AM
Cheers, and enjoy.
The Pavano Crime Family
3. The Playboy Mansion
It was on the cusp of the evening rush hour as Vincent drove Joe Corrola up Frankfort Avenue towards what Joe had described to him as a “swanky penthouse suite that this Playboy guy thinks is a f*ckin’ palace”.
“Stop here,” Joe said, motioning to a vacant parking spot under the train tracks. “Playboy usually has some monstrosity parked outside his place taking up most of the road.”
Vinnie pulled into a spot upon the cobbled stones between the struts supporting the elevated tracks and the two men got out of the car. Playboy’s apartment was on the top floor of a five-storey Xenotime Street with oak trees sprouting from the ground every ten metres or so along the pavement beside it, reaching up to the windows of third storey.
Vinnie and Joe ascended the curved stone steps and entered the lobby of the apartment block which was hidden from street view by a mahogany door. Their feet were greeted with a rich red carpet which stopped at the marble steps and, after a brief stretch marble floor, began again. The lobby was decorated with potted plants which, given the prosperity of the dwellers in the building, were well-watered and green despite the cold autumn air outside which was robbing many of Liberty City’s trees of their leaves. The walls were also marble-tiled with mahogany slats in alcoves in parts. These alcoves were adorned with pictures showing Liberty City’s elegance and square wall-mounted lights which helped light the dark room. Up the first few steps, swamped in the rich red carpet rose a mahogany and marble counter which formed a three-side desk behind which sat a security guard who was busying himself with a game of solitaire on his desktop computer. He looked up as Vinny and Joe approached the desk and minimised the game of solitaire as if to say they had his full attention.
“We’re here to see Mr. Stewart,” Joe addressed the guard in a business-like tone.
“Yeah, he said he was expecting someone,” the guard replied with a thick Broker accent. He pushed a button in front of him, notifying Playboy that we were on our way. “Head right up. Elevator over there, top floor.”
Leaving the man to resume his solitaire, Vinny and Joe called the elevator and ascended to the top floor. To Vinny, Playboy’s apartment looked like a work in progress. Much of the wall on the far side of the room was bare, grey brick and the ceiling was lined with a complex system of water pipes and wires carrying electricity to the simplistic lights which were hung at intervals. Nearer to Joe and Corrola was a huge Panoramic television with speakers towering upwards either side of it. An angled sofa sat a few metres from it with a black coffee table between the two. A large pool table was set in place at an angle in the far corner, around which were three men. Two were in the middle of a game and the third was observing keenly. One, sporting a large, rainbow-coloured hooded sweater with red sleeves, lined up his shot and sank a striped ball.
“Now that’s how it’s done,” he said, turning to his opponent.
“Nice shot Playboy,” the observer commented and slapped his hand. “Hey.”
The last word drew Playboy’s attention to the newcomers and, handing the pool cue to his friend, he came over to greet Joe and Vinny.
“This the cat you was on about Joe?”
“Yeah, this is Vinny de Luca. Vinny, this is Playboy X.”
“Ah, I don’t need no introduction playa. Cat’s heard of me, no doubt.” Playboy turned to Vinny with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, of course,” Vinny lied. “Good to finally meet you.”
Playboy turned back to Joe, “You bring that H with you?”
“Yeah, it’s in a car parked under the tracks along the street.”
“sh*t, better keep it safe, too many cats trying to jack a ride around these parts. Hey, Royce, hey.” He motioned to the observer at the pool player who came over to join the three of them. “Take the car and put it in the alley behind Jay’s place on Xenotime and Exeter, you know the one?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” Joe handed Royce the keys and he took the elevator to the ground floor.
Rain began to fall outside in Algonquin, soaking Playboy’s wooden patio furniture and forming a pool on the tarpaulin that was covering the hot tub. Joe and Playboy talked business as he finished his game of pool and then challenged Joe, who swiftly defeated him.
“Well, sorry Playboy, I’d love to continue this beating,” Joe said with a smile, “but I have to be off now.”
“Musta been this cue, never shoots straight.”
“A poor workman blames his tools.”
“Haha, f*ck you Joe!” Playboy joked.
“Alright Vinny? Let’s go.”
Thanks for reading. I'm hoping the time it takes me to write chapter four is considerably less than it took me to write chapter three!
Edited by mark-2007, 07 January 2010 - 04:30 AM.
Posted 07 January 2010 - 11:57 AM
Posted 08 January 2010 - 03:57 PM
Posted 12 January 2010 - 04:26 AM
Torres Cartel | Old Hospital | First story
$16 + $725 = $741
Alright, firstly, you've half-written in a script format, with things like "*Phone ringing*" which is a big no-no. BUYG is stories. Secondly, at 350 words, that's WAY too short for a BUYG story. It should be at least double that length. Which, with your story, you could easily have done. I mean, what reads like several minutes of action is summarised in a single paragraph. And, sure, we reward brevity, yes, your story just lacks a lot of background: you give no explanation as to why "they" would want to invade the old hospital when it's a ruins anyway. And, finally, there's a lot of spelling mistakes, so I'd strongly advise running a spell-checker over it, and, grammar check, too, if you have MS Word. Sorry, Armaggedon, but there is a lot of issues with your story that leave it with a low rating.
The Lost | Meth Lab | Chapter 1 What is essential
$22 + $918 = $940
Yeah, like Armaggedon above -- and Staff and then Aragond warned you both about this -- your story is simply too short at 293 words long. Twice that length would be a bare minimum. And you can say it's an intro', but even intro's have to be standard length unless you don't want them rated at all. Still, you don't have the same script, grammatical or spelling issues as Arma, which made it much easier to read and rate, although who is Jhonny?
The Lost | Meth Lab | Chapter 2 The angels are dead
$26 + $940 = $966
Srsly, who is this Jhonny fellow? Is that meant to be spelled Johnny? Likewise, what's a Kinfe? Or spirnted? A few annoying spelling mistakes to watch-out for. I'm assuming they're just typo's. Your protagonist, however, seems impossibly proficient at shooting people dead. Sure it would happen in-game, but BUYG is meant to be kinda fairly realistic. Introducing people's names can be done a lot more effectively than asking Jhonny mid-chase. Still, it was a stronger effort than your first.
Pegorino Family | Pegorino Mansion | Chapter 9 The Bastard Son
$38 + $3,349 = $3,387
Pretty solid, actually. Staff liked. It wasn't an action story, but for dialogue and build up, it wasn't bad. Staff has been confused by some of the dialogue, especially when Jimmy is trying to assert himself, so you ought to consider throwing some "he said" and description in there to make it clearer. Spelling/grammar issues weren't glaring.
Pavano Family | Pegorino Mansion | 3. The Playboy Mansion
$45 + $614 = $659
Nice. Strong command of grammar, spelling, sentence structure. You've recreated Playboy-X quite accurately here, although Staff wasn't as convinced by the last back-n-forth with Joe: Playboy seemed too at ease with Joe's dissing. But, that's no biggie. At 826 words, it's not too short, but one cannot help feeling not much happened. But, look, it's a set-up piece, a cool drug deal, and on that score good.
The following are still awaiting rating:
Pegorino Family | Recycling Plant | Story #10
$rating still pending
Pegorino Family | Recycling Plant | Story #11
$rating still pending
Pegorino Family | Recycling Plant | Story #12
$rating still pending
Issues? You know where to find us.
~ Aragond on behalf of Skramz, whose exams are really, really long.
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 12 January 2010 - 04:18 PM.
Posted 12 January 2010 - 04:45 PM
Posted 12 January 2010 - 09:26 PM
Posted 13 January 2010 - 03:01 PM
|QUOTE (Vercetti27 @ Jan 12 2010, 16:45)|
|spelling & grmmar issues weren't glaring? theres a first. thanks for the ratings|
Uh-oh. Was Staff awake?
|QUOTE (mark-2007 @ Jan 12 2010, 21:26)|
|Cheers for the rating.|
|And yeah, I wasn't too fond of my attempt at the last bit of dialogue. Playboy was quite at ease in it, but then again Joe is the man who supplies him with the drugs he sells and, whilst Playboy X is by no means small-time, Joe's very high up in the Pavanos.|
But, look, it wasn't a big deal in Staff's opinion. Staff was only mentioning things that... pointers to help improve your writing. It was good, and though Staff didn't mention it, he did think Playboy might have been introduced in this scene for future reference, and that's all good. But, if you didn't have a bigger story arc developing, it might not have been appropriate on its own. Seen?
|This was just a way to introduce Playboy to the story as I'm thinking Vinny may be seeing him again.|
|I'm setting my sights quite high with this arc as I'll probably never get it finished, but here's hoping.|
~ Aragond on behalf of Skramz
Posted 13 January 2010 - 06:08 PM
Posted 13 January 2010 - 06:31 PM
Chpater 10: I enjoyed this chapter. You but a lot of dept into your dialog which makes it feel realistic. It's very easy to see when an Italian dude is talking for example, mainly because you use the right words.
Chapter 11: Very similar to your previous chapter in terms of dialog. I like that. However, I feel that you could use some more description from times to times, even though your dialog covers a lot of that.
Chapter 12: I really enjoyed this chapter. Your story is getting more and more interesting and I hope there will a chapter 13 soon. The dialog is still great and you managed to get some more description into this one, which I liked.
+ Combat pistol for free as your 10th story bonus.
Rated by Rucke
Posted 14 January 2010 - 03:09 AM
|QUOTE (MobsterFromHell @ Jan 14 2010, 12:20)|
|I Would Like To join the irish mob (McReary Estate)|
Write the first story for that gang at that location, and it's yours. ie; start writing!
Posted 14 January 2010 - 03:18 AM
I would also like to join the Irish Mob, at the Lucky Winkles Bar.
Also, for clarity, what's the position on language in these stories? I tend to think gangsters and mobsters would have foul tongues, and have watched too much Soprano's to think anything else. Also, this is the forum for an adult game and therefore should have an adult audience. I've erred on the caution side in this story however, and stuck some asterixes in where needed.
On another note, apologies if I miss the point with the game at all, or contranvene any boundaries or rules. I'm looking at this as just an oppotunity to write some unusual fan fiction and just enjoy giving writing a go.
Going straight into things:
Act I - Chapter 1 - An Unsolicited Warning
The Irish Mob
Lucky Winkles Bar
The West River always looked fantastic as the sun descended, shimmering gold and auburn as though it were ablaze.
"One-hundred and Eighty!" cried Michael. "Aodhan, stop staring out the f*cking window, you're getting f*cking cleared out here."
"Yeah, well." responded the wiry Irish kid, "There's no point in playing. You clear out in six every time and I can barely hit the board." Aodhan loosely tossed three darts at the board.
"How's you ever going to beat me if you f*cking throw like that?" commented Michael, chalking up Aodhan's pitiful 32 points.
The sun had now dropped to meet the Alderney skyline; the silhouetted black industrial complexes distinct against the sprawling hues of orange and red.
The bar windows glowed with the incoming rays. Refracted light off of the many empty pint glasses cast flecks of light all over the room, tinting the darts board with splashes of colour. Not that it would, or could, disrupt Michael from his fifteenth frame of the evening.
"Twenty! Bull to f*cking win."
Long shadows stretched across the city. The streetlight outside flashed into life, illuminating the sign outside the bar for all to see: 'Lucky Winkles'. Sudden darkness dropped as the sun was lost behind Alderney's outline. The streets of Purgatory looked cool and dark, oozing deep navy and melancholy grey... and bright red, white and blue. A police patrol car pulled up outside the bar.
Aodhan turned around to see Michael disappear quietly down the stairs to the cellar, and a third dart squarely in the bulls-eye. Dermot, the oversized barkeep leaned on his left elbow on the bar and slid one hand beneath, gently fingering the stubby, sawn shotgun. His 'reserve barrels', he liked to call it.
The officer behind the wheel remained where he was and a man emerged from the passenger side. He had light brown hair and a similar moustache, and a suit to match them. No more a brown man could Aodhan have seen, this person was a detective.
Dermot recognised him, "Would you know," he said as the detective entered the bar, "it's Frankie McReary. What makes you think you're welcome in this fine f*cking establishment?"
Francis McReary was cut off from the family. That much Aodhan had found out in his short time working for Michael. But a McReary as a detective was a real surprise to him.
Frankie eyed both Aodhan and Dermot. While the kid didn't look like a problem, Frankie knew Dermot's reputation and wasn't about to step on any more toes. "Look guys, I'm here to help the family. Patrick's in trouble."
"I'll believe that you wretched c*nt" fired Dermot.
Unmoved by the provocation, Frankie continued. "The F.I.B are tying together a drugs case and are sticking him right in it. Not that he'd listen to me, but I can't contact him myself or I'll look involved." There was no response to Frankie's claims. "Look, I can't be having another McReary go to jail. And for a narcs charge too! That'd just complete the set of my family's crimes."
"Always looking after number one, eh Francis?" Dermot stayed fixed were he stood, not letting his guard down and releasing the 'reserve barrels'. "Aodhan, call Packie and finds out where he's at."
Aodhan lifted the bar flap and walked behind Dermot, crossing the bar to the telephone in the corner. He dialled Packie's mobile number, but found himself listening to Packie's voicemail. "Nottin'!"
"Try the house." Frankie suggested.
"We don't call the house." responded Dermot.
"Maybe we ought to this time, Dermot." Aodhan said his part with too much haste.
"Do I need to f*cking remind you who tells who to do what around here?" Dermot vocal explosion indicated he wasn't going to be undermined by some kid, one who drives Michael Keane from A to B, especially in front of a corrupt cop like Frankie. A stifling moment of silence followed, Aohan felt the pit of his stomach sink. Thankfully for him, Dermot made the judgement that the family's safety was a greater concern than his reputation in the circumstances. "Call Maureen's."
Aohan dialled the McReary's family home but was met with a busy tone. "They're engaged."
"Goddamn," replied Dermot, "Kate's probably on the phone with that fella o' er's. Calls him all the time but the f*cker ignores her. Some Ruskie c*nt who's been working wi' Packie as of late." Silence followed again before Dermot decided to get busy. "You'd better be telling the f*cking truth Frankie, and if you are, you'd better be telling it soon enough!" He growled. "Kid, get over there and find Patrick. You know where the McReary house is don't you?"
Aodhan had been once with Michael, and looked after the car while Michael went inside 'for ten minutes'. He had waited three hours before Michael emerged, pissed as a fart. He had a good idea where he was going.
"Get the train, you'll be there in no time." Dermot said. "F*cking move."
Aodhan darted out of the bar door and a short sprint around the block put him at the stairs to the L. Aodhan heard the distant thunder on the lines and hurried to catch the incoming train. Reaching the platform, it was already boarding. His legs burning from the dash up the stairs, Aodhan waved and screamed as he tried to reach the train in time, slipping between the doors just as they started to close.
Edited by Maverick24, 12 April 2010 - 01:05 PM.
Posted 14 January 2010 - 03:21 AM
Act I - Chapter 2 - Scrapping on the Subway
The Irish Mob
Lucky Winkles Bar
Surveying the carriage he had just boarded, Aodhan was unsettled to see five hoods clustered in the aisle next to him and nobody else onboard.
"Yo, calm down, b*tch." said one of the guys, wearing a Swingers jacket about his large gut.
"Stop the train, stop the train! I need to get home to mommy!" mocked another, taller with lanky arms and a red beanie on his head. The gang laughed.
Aodhan touched his back pocket, where his knife was kept, however it was empty. His phone and wallet were missing too. He had left them in his jacket in the bar. Sh*t, he thought, money for a ticket was looking like the least of his issues. Keeping his head down, he moved to the other end of the carriage.
"Are you gay?" shouted a third gang member, this one scrawnier than the others, but a weasel like complexion gave him a vindictive appearance, "'cos I wanna f*ck you!" The group howled and snorted, baiting him. The weasel moved towards Aodhan, blocking him into the corner of the carriage.
The train passed street level, plunging the interior into underground darkness. Aodhan hands pumped forward like pistons firing and his hands clutched the collar of the thug in front of him. After a momentary darkness the carriage lights came on, just in time for four gangbangers to watch a wiry Irish kid slam his forehead into their friend's face. Aodhan hung onto the weasel with his left hand and delivered a short but powerful blow with his right, making sure to land it on the newly shattered nose to deliver maximum result. Another right cross, followed by a left short hook and a huge right swinging haymaker downed the bloodied weasel, leaving scarlet red spray all over the window his head met on the route to the floor.
The large guy in the Swingers jacket turned to Aodhan and charged, drawing a knife from his slack tracksuit pants. Moving knife forwards, the felon exposed his weapon to the full attention of Aodhan, who got two hands to the guy's chubby wrist and pulled it past him, twisting to lock the arm straight across the chest. Rolling his body in to get maximum advantage on the attackers elbow, Aodhan levered as much body weight as he could and gave a sharp jerk backwards on the assailant's wrist. The crunch of bone was audible even over the underground roar of the train, but nothing compared to the scream of the man in Aodhan's arms.
The train approached the first stop and ground to a halt in front of an empty underground platform. Aodhan grabbed the limp weasel, who squirmed in pathetic resistance, but had little enough conscience to stop the champ bare-knuckled fighter throwing him face-first into the platform concrete. The three gang members who had spent the last minute of their ride stiff with fear at the rear of the train helped the fifth, overweight and mangled member of their crew out the doors and ran. The train set into motion again and Aodhan had the carriage to himself.
Edited by Maverick24, 12 April 2010 - 01:05 PM.
Posted 14 January 2010 - 03:24 AM
Act I - Chapter 3 - A Hurried Departure
The Irish Mob
Lucky Winkles Bar
Stepping off the train in Dukes, Aodhan jogged the rest of the way to the McReary's. He reached the house breathless and hammered on the door.
Maureen McReary answered. "What's with the noise boy? You're that kid who drives Michael about aren't you? You look like you've been fighting, come in."
Realising for the first time his shirt was splattered in blood, Aodhan was stunned and momentarily reflected on the fight in the underground. Collecting his thoughts, Aodhan gasped "I need to see Patrick, urgently."
"Ha, good look with him." Maureen answered, "He's upstairs. Watch though, he might not see you."
Aodhan found Packie lying on his bed, fully dressed and rolling around in hysterical sweats and laughter. Aodhan's concerns that Packie might have a hidden stash to dispose of were dispelled, any drugs Packie had had were now contained well within him.
"Packie, you need to move." Aodhan shouted. "Listen to me, your brother says the heat is on you and you can't be here".
Packie stirred and sat up. "F*ck you! Wha' d' Derrick f*ckin' know 'bout anytin'? Who the f*ck are you?"
Aodhan was tired and didn't have time for the ramblings of a coke-head. "Francis, not Derrick, tipped us off. And I'm Aodhan, one of Michael's friends.
"Aodhan!" exclaimed Packie, "Are you f*cking Irish or something?" Packie burst into more laughter and pointed a finger at the youngster in front of him while writhing on the bed.
Footsteps powered down the hallway outside and the door to the room was flung open. Kate McReary emerged. "Patrick, there are police cars outside, get out!" Her voice was of concern and of fear, but not the fear of the unknown. Kate understood what it was like to lose family members to the law.
Packie lurched up and towards the window. Clumsily he opened the frame and started to climb outside. Aodhan rushed to stop him but it was too late and Packie fell like a sack of potatoes. Kate screamed, but laughter from the rear garden assured both of them he was at least alive.
"You, whoever you are, go after him and keep him safe." Kate warned Aodhan. "Things will be fine here; just don't let them get him, especially while he's in that state."
Downstairs, Aodhan saw dark shapes moving through the glass of the front door. The police were here in force. Cutting through the kitchen he made a swift rear exit, finding Packie sprawled on the lawn, dozing slightly. Aodhan grabbed Packie by the back of his shirt and pulled him to his knees. "Get running you f*cking druggy." demanded Aodhan.
Packie lurched to his feet again and placed two hands firmly on Aodhan's chest. "F*ck you. Do you know who you're f*cking talking to or are you too fresh to this game to know I'll kill you for saying sh*te to me like that?" Packie tried to maintain threatening eye contact with Aodhan, but instead choked and turned away, vomiting all over the flower bed.
Shouting from in the house suggested the police were demanding to search for Packie. Aodhan grabbed Packie again and started to move towards the road at the end of the garden. Packie struggled initially, but managed to get both legs working together and made the effort to roll over the shallow wall.
On the main road, Aodhan stood in front of a passing saloon, forcing the driver to stop. "Let us in, get us out of here."
The driver was in no mood for giving a lift to a bloodied, sinewy, Irish kid and a staggering smack-head with a vomit patch down his front. "Get lost, kid, I ain't taking you anywhere." Aodhan grabbed the door handle started to open the door. "F*ck you." shouted the guy in the car, and shoved the door into Aodhan's thighs.
The man stepped one foot out of the door, moving to confront Aodhan. As the man emerged Aodhan drove forwards and his knee connected firmly with the side of his quarry's head. Dazed, the man rolled out of the car and stood to his feet. Stunned and shocked, Aodhan pushed him to the side and tried to get in the car. A hand landed firmly on Aodhan's shoulder and flattened him against the car. Packie had charged forwards, seeing the action kick off, and now brandished a knife. Before Aodhan could act, the driver was pinned back against his car and Packie was trashing violently, puncturing his chest repeatedly.
"Sh*t, Packie. Get in the f*cking car." Aodhan was panicking; this was getting totally out of control. A car, stolen in a heist-turned-murder, with a felon in the back who was soaked in blood and vomit and loaded on more drugs than all of Willows combined, and a F.I.B operation out there to apprehend them both.
Packie fell into the back seat and pulled the door shut behind him, falling asleep a moment later. At least he might be less trouble this way. Aodhan throttled up and drew away from the scene of the hijack. His heart was going crazy. He checked himself in the rear-view mirror; his face was pale and ghostly. Looking back down he was doing 75mph. "Sh*t! Get your f*cking head together Aodhan!" he said aloud. Slowing, as to not attract attention, Aodhan took the car and headed west, knowing of a safe-house to lie low under the Algonquin Bridge.
Edited by Maverick24, 12 April 2010 - 01:05 PM.
Posted 14 January 2010 - 03:37 AM
Posted 14 January 2010 - 01:00 PM
The Pegorino Mansion
Wiping out the Competition
Louie answered the door immediately after the doorbell rang. He stiffly twisted the knob and opened the heavy, creaky door to Sonny and his men. Sonny smiled weakly at Louie as he invited himself in. Louie nodded as his men walked into the hallway. Jimmy was already sat, in the single armchair, reading the business times.
“Hello Gentlemen. Glad you could get here today, through the cold and the snow”. He stood, and smiled warmly. Louie had seen a different side to his uncle recently. A more patient, warm and friendly man. He shook hands with Sonny and his men as they exchanged the usual pleasantries.
Bruce (the fat one) gave Jimmy a rather strong handshake. Louie could tell as he saw Jimmy try to resist screaming as his handshake was returned. Everyone sat, as Jimmy began talking.
“Gentlemen. We have gained credibility and won back our pride after the attack on the Ancelotti’s at the factory. We wiped all 8 Ancelotti men who were present, and have gained valuable information. We have news from my good friend, Phil Bell that the Ancelotti’s are planning on pushing us out of our drugs trade. He also informed me that today, at half nine in the morning that a van will transport $30,000 of drugs from their drugs lab to their new warehouse in Acter Industrial Park. Louie and me will block of their van, when you come from behind and block then from the back. We’ll then destroy the van and escape before the police arrive”.
Everyone knew this plan sounded relatively simple, and stood to their feet.
“Good plan Jim. How’s your boy”? Asked Sonny.
“Ray? Oh he’ll be back in uh”- Jimmy turned to Louie, as if to confirm this.
“About two weeks”. He smiled.
“Good. What about that scarred fellow. You know, the man that got away”. Sonny continued, his eyes narrowing.
“Alessandro. We’ll get him. Soon”. Jimmy said, as if he was uncomfortable with saying his name.
Louie waited outside in the cold, as everyone slowly made their way out. He took out a cigarette. He turned his back, and held it up to his nose. He sniffed the nicotine as he closed his eyes. He had almost made it 2 weeks. Going cold turkey was very difficult. He needed discipline to survive. But he knew soon, he would be strong enough to say he isn’t going to smoke again.
He opened the rear door of the Coquette for Jimmy.
“Thank you Louie. Glad to see some elegance in the way your handling yourself”, he joked.
“You still not smokin’?”
“If you talk about it, you’ll make it harder”. Louie scratched his forehead as he started the engine, waiting for Sonny’s men to drive away first.
The Pegorino’s parked up outside the Ancelotti drug lab in Berchem. It was close to the sea, and very quiet.
Louie checked his watch. 9:27.
“3 minutes to go”. Louie announced to Jimmy. They were parked just around the corner of the exit, so they were hidden, but could see when the Ancelotti’s leave. Sonny’s car was parked infront of Louie’s Coquette. Louie’s eyes were fixed on the watch that sat across his hairy, tanned wrist.
“Say uncle, I’ve been thinking. Maybe, after this, we get back into the game, the protection game. Remember; back when he ruled the city. We owned almost every liquor store from here to Hove Beach”. Louie said, still looking at his watch. His uncle laughed and looked into the rear-view mirror.
“Louie, you’re an ambitious kid. You think too big. First, we close down their drugs trade, then we think about how we’re gonna do”.
Louie smiled back into the rear view mirror. Then seconds later, two men came to open the wide, rusty warehouse door. It opened upwards like a garage, and made a similar sound. Louie braced himself, seconds later. The black drugs van made it’s way slowly down the road, driving to the Industrial Park in the south of the city.
Sonny waited until the car had made its first turn, and then followed. Louie didn’t like waiting, or using tactics. He preferred to jump in, all guns blazing. But he respected that his uncle knew the best way. After all, experience gives you knowledge. Not just grey hair and an erectile dysfunction.
As the van moved further south, Jimmy have the signal to Sonny to move in. Sonny indicated a left turn, and moved east, knowing that the road would come around and end up at the same road. Therefore he could easily block of the drugs van from the front. As Jimmy waited, he kept his eye on the rear of the van.
“Brace yourself Louie, brace yourself. When I say so, drive at full speed into the rear of the van. And put the handbrake up. Then we’ll have the van trapped”. Jimmy smiled slyly to himself, as he always did when he felt a good plan come together. The black drugs van drove very slowly, as if they knew something was going on. Soon Sonny’s car would come from the left, and block off the narrow industrial road. Jimmy waited, knowing it would happen any second. Louie’s pulse slowly began to quicken.
Then from the left, Sonny’s car came steaming out of the road on the left, and pulled up sideways across the road, blocking the van. The van quickened, moving at around 40 miles per hour, and slammed into Sonny’s car. Debris flew from the crash and into the air, like small fireworks.
“Now- drive up his rear, and make sure you put your handbrake on”! Jimmy shouted into Louie’s ear, as he drove slowly into the rear of the van. He raised the handbrake up abruptly, and joined the rest of them outside.
No-one could see inside the van, due to the black tinted windows, so Sonny had to just guess and shoot aimlessly at the van.
Sonny aimed his pistol at the windows, and shot 4 rounds into each one, knowing whoever was inside would be quickly shot to sh*t.
“Now make sure no-one’s in the back”. Jimmy shouted. Louie reversed his car so Jimmy could open the rear doors, slowly. Everyone waited, with the guns aimed squarely at the back. Jimmy quickly opened them both; to unveil 3 Ancelotti’s armed with SMGs.
Sonny took every Ancelotti out with his pistol. He was a quick killer; it only took him a second to kill each one.
“Great, now Louie, get out those Molotovs from the car” Jimmy demanded.
“But Jimmy, wouldn’t it be better to sell these drugs”? Sonny enquired, respecting Jimmy usually always knew what he was doing.
“Look Sonny, we’re rich enough as it is. We need to wipe out the competition first. And how are we going to do that? By destroying enemy merchandise. Anyway, how do we know this sh*t’s real? You know what those Ancelotti’s are like. Now Louie, flame this sh*t”.
Sonny smiled, and stood back as Louie threw the first Molotov into the rear doors of the van. The bottle cracked, letting the flames quickly set fire to the merchandise. He threw another, and then finished off the job with another through the drivers seat window. The van slowly burnt, the smell of the marijuana was intoxicating, and would quickly get to anyone’s head.
“Alright, everyone, we’ve done the job. Lets see what those muthaf*ckas can do about that” Jimmy smiled. The cars pulled away, just in time for the police to get to the scene, and identify 5 Ancelotti bodies. Now everyone will know, the Pegorino’s are in business.
Posted 15 January 2010 - 03:08 AM
|QUOTE (Maverick24 @ Jan 14 2010, 13:37)|
|Apologies for the edits above. All quotation marks were screwed up by exporting text from MS Word to the forum. I had to convert everything to plain text and action the above edits.|
Please also be aware, Mav', that you should only be posting a story once every 24 hours.
Beside which, you're not giving yourself time to learn from the review of the previous story by posting so many in a row. Still, don't remove them. I'm sure staff will cope.
Posted 23 January 2010 - 01:11 PM
I always check both, and Im going to post a story in both in a while.
Posted 23 January 2010 - 08:04 PM
|QUOTE (YamiFly @ Jan 23 2010, 14:11)|
|Both Iv and SA BUYG's have been abandoned. I think fresh new staff, with fresh new members may make it running.|
I always check both, and Im going to post a story in both in a while.
Do you know what amazes me? In both topics, it's seems to be you who complains. I don't know if it's a bandwagon that's rolling as a couple of other people have said the same thing (and they're also now banned for being the same person, so their opinion is the equivalent of the sh*t on my shoe), yet I don't see any of you trying to give back or assist in any way, you just straight out critisize. You do not provide any solution; Why not help out by making a list of what has to be done, why not hold off on posting up stories until the first batch are rated? BUYG isn't a competition. The original idea was concieved as a writiing topic based around GTA (I Believe), so by posting story after story as if it were going after fashion isn't what BUYG is about, it's about listening to the constructive critism (as Aragond pointed out above) and employing that in your next set of stories, so that your writing skill can be improved (whilst also appealing to the members of this board by it being about Grand Theft Auto).
I understand the situation with BUYG SA - If I were staff there, I wouldn't want to have to wade my way through all of those stories posted by that multi, though I understand some legit stories have been caught up in the mix, the only thing I could suggest was that if someone got a moderator to go through the topic and delete those stories it would somehow make the job easier. You cannot solely pin the blame on a single staff member, such as Benjimino in the SA Topic, for it has been the fault of the multi's that BUYG SA has been ruined. I was considering posting my Forelli stories, but the situation there seemed to be on the same level of a turn-off as a penis and hairy man tits.
As for BUYG IV, if there are no stories being posted up, that is hardly something to be critical about. Staff operate on the basis of rating stories when there are stories to be rated. The liberty of adding people to the gangs roster doesn't have to be done until the person that has requested the spot has written a story - so as you will guess, as soon as that story is posted up, a rating will come. You do not know people's circumstances, so therefore you cannot comment suggesting something as "fresh new staff, with fresh new members". BUYG always has a dip in activity, yet since 2008 it has been ran by roughly the same group of people who have kept it going to this day, the 23rd of January 2010. You can't knock them.
And who would you suggest as new staff? Yourself??
Edit - I'd also like to inform staff that I won't be around for a month/two months as of the end of January. If staff would like to know the specific reason as to why, then staff may mail me, but I don't feel the need to broadcast it to those who seem critical of the lack of activity to add weight to the fact that many people have "circumstances" that go past posting a story every twenty four hours.
Edited by Tyla, 23 January 2010 - 08:13 PM.
Posted 23 January 2010 - 10:30 PM
Chapter 3: Sit-down
Danny stopped the car outside Franco's Bakery, an old and ran down place near the edge of Little Italy. Danny put the car keys inside the pocket of his black leather jacket and took a deep breath. Luigi, who was sitting next to him carefully looked outside the car to see if anyone had followed them, but the street was empty. Luigi found it strange since a black Cavalcade had been right behind them for a couple of blocks. But now all of a sudden it was gone. The place seemed almost to empty in Luigi opinion. Something was out of order, he could feel it in his body. He didn't dare to tell Danny though, poor guy was nervous enough already. Ever since the Ancelotti-beef started he constantly found himself looking in the rear-view mirror all the time. Before he only had to do it a couple of times a day because of the feds, but now he did it all the time. On their way over Danny almost drove off the road because of it. Luigi had to grab the wheel in order to keep them on the road. Danny wasn't used to big conflicts like this. Back in Italia, where Luigi came from, disputes like these were common. It usually ended with a couple of people getting whacked, no big deal. America had made guys like Danny soft, and Luigi didn't like it.
"You aren't armed, right Luigi? Please tell me no, imagine their reactions if we came armed to a sit-down. They will probably frisk us and everything." Danny said with a nervous voice as they got out from the car.
"I know the rules, Danny. Of course I don't come armed to a sit-down. You can't imagine what they would do back home if anyone did." Luigi said and he tried to calm Danny down. What he just said was only a lie though. The Ancelotti's thought they had set up a meeting, but Luigi had planned an execution. He just hadn't told Danny yet. This sh*t with Big Luca had to end here and now, no matter if it meant war with the Ancelotti's.
"Thanks though guy, that make me feel a lot easier." Danny repaid to Luigi's comment. "Hopefully Big Luca and Willie Grappa also know the rules. We could be walking right into a trap for all we know." Danny continued.
Luigi and Danny entered the old Bakery. Three guys in leather jackets waited for them. Luigi studied them, none of them were Big Luca or Willie Grappa. Luigi started to figure that maybe the whole thing actually was a set-up. The three fellas in leather jacket remained quiet. Just when Luigi were about to reach for his gun one of the guys showed them to a door. He opened it and showed them inside some kind of back room. The room smelled old cigars and dirt. The windows were covered with wooden panels and very small amounts of sunshine managed to break through. Therefore the room was also very dark. Luigi noticed that two men were sitting around a table in the middle of the room. At first he couldn't see their faces because of the dark, but when the fellas in leather jackets ordered them to walk further he discovered that it was Willie Grappa and that fat f*ck Big Luca. Willie was an aging mobster who had taken control of the Ancelotti crew in Little Italy. He had grey, almost white hair, and wore a black suit with a grey tie. On his tie he had some kind of small golden decoration. He was sitting there with a cigar in his mouth and kept looking at Luigi and Danny. Luigi noticed that Big Luca had taken his beloved cap off. He now started to understand the reason why he always was wearing it. The man was growing bald. He couldn't have been more than 40 though.
"I'm glad you decided to attend on this sit-down. Just like you, we would like to see an end of this unfortunate dispute." Willie Grappa said with a hoarse voice. He sounded like he had smoked a bit too many cigars in his life.
"Sit down." Big Luca said and smiled. "You want anything, a coffee or a pastry maybe? I know Franco, the owner. He can get anything you want." Big Luca said with a faked hospitality.
"No thanks. We would like to get this over with and go home." Danny said. Luigi and him sat down opposite Big Luca and Willie Grappa.
"Look I'm sorry, but I got some business I need to attend on. You will have to solve this dispute with Luca yourselves. Alright?" Willie Grappa suddenly said and grabbed his black coat behind his chair. He winked his eye to Big Luca before he left the room. Luigi was speechless. There was no chance they would be able to solve the dispute with Big Luca alone. Too much bad blood, especially since Luigi had killed his partner Giorgio.
"So, where were we gentlemen?" Big Luca said and looked at Luigi and Danny with a smile that made them feel uncomfortable.
Luigi heard how someone was sneaking up behind them as Big Luca kept on talking. Luigi didn't dare to look back because he wasn't sure how the people in the room would react. Danny hadn't noticed anything yet. He kept on listening to Luca's talking. It was pretty obvious to Luigi that the talking was only an evasive action to keep him and Danny distracted until their assassination. Just when the man who was sneaking behind them was about to kill them, Luigi pulled up his knife and cut the guys throat. The guy started to cough blood all over the table as Luigi pulled out the knife from the throat. He looked up and noticed that Big Luca was making run forrest. Luigi had only one thing in his mind, Luca could not escape. He started to chase him out from the bakery. Danny tried to catch up but wasn't as fast. Outside the bakery a black Cavalcade pulled up next to Big Luca. It was the same one that had been following Luigi and Danny to the meet. Luca got in and the Cavalcade sped off. Luigi and Danny hurried back to Danny's PMP 600. Danny fumbled with the car keys before finally managing to put them inside the keyhole and start the engine.
"Alright, they're getting away. We need to keep up with them, Danny. Drive!" Luigi said as Danny pulled the gas. The Cavalcade was big and ungainly, catching up with it was not going to be too hard.
"I pull up next to them, then what?" Danny asked with panic in his voice.
"Then we shoot them off the road." Luigi calmly said. Back in Italia many disputes were solved like this, the guys here just weren't used to it.
"You'll bring the whole police department on us, well I hope you know what you're doing tough guy." Danny said and followed Luigi's instructions.
The cars were now lying side by side as they entered The Exchange district. Luigi wind down the car window, pulled up his gun and started to shoot at Big Luca's car. He aimed for the tires to make Luca lose control. Luca tried to avoid the blasts. With only a few bullets left in his magazine, Luigi finally managed to break one of the tires. Luca who was driving really fast started to lose control. The Cavalcade did a flip and crashed into the side of the street. Luigi and Danny stopped nearby. The car was lying upside down and Luigi didn't notice any movements inside. Fuel was leaking out on the street. Luigi got an idea. He aimed for the fuel with his gun and pulled the trigger. Heat hit his face like a punch when Big Luca's car exploded. He rushed back to Danny's car before someone managed to call the cops.
The next morning Luigi woke up in his apartment in Middle Park Vest. The Pegorino's knew a guy who didn't need it anymore. If he gave it up willingly or if the Pegorino's forced to him to do it Luigi didn't know. He didn't really care either. The bosses back home in Italia covered any expanses included. It was a nice and modern place with view over the West River. The furniture was modern and in Luigi's taste. Apart from that he also owned a plasma TV and a laptop. Luigi didn't understand much about computers, although he just had learned to use the email. Luigi walked out at the balcony to smell the morning air and admire the view. Liberty City was great, but he still missed Italy. Of course it always reminded him of Carlo and his revenge on the people who killed him, but it was still there he was born. Luigi pulled up his phone to call Domenico Testarossa, the boss of bosses back in the Old Country. Luigi had worked for him in many years, obeying his every wishes. It was on his orders Luigi had traveled to Liberty City, it was also on his orders he made the deal with Jamal Fakir, who later killed Carlo. But Luigi knew Domenico had nothing to do with it, they were like brothers.
After a few signals, Domenico answered. Domenico was really pleased to hear from Luigi.
"It's good to hear from you Luigi. We really miss you back here, you know that right?" Domenico said after a few minutes of talking.
"Well hopefully I might come back home within a few months once the deal is settled here." Luigi explained.
"Yeah. Listen, I've met the buyer and he told me he's very eager to meet you too. He's currently in Liberty City and wants to set up a meeting sometime soon. I'll catch up with you and Danny there and then we meet him together." Domenico said and sounded excited.
"Sounds good boss, I miss you. Without Carlo you're the closest thing I have to a brother." Luigi said.
The end of chapter 3.
Stay tuned for chapter 4!
Posted 24 January 2010 - 05:15 PM
Well, comes my story:
Respect is Earned:
Chapter 3: Break at the hospital:
The ambulance flew past the streets of Liberty City. Drived by Johnny and some backup that arrived. Their names where Kimba and Gordon. They treated Mike, who moved around the ambulance as it moved. When they arrived, they took out Mike and put it in the Diamond Hospital . Already in a bed, Mike recovered conciussness.
"What happened to me?" Mike asked
"You where hit by a car" Johnny answered
"Oh great..." Mike slowly answered.
Suddenly, there was a sound at the door.
"Imma go check" Kimba said.
As soon as Kimba went to poen the door, a granade did the job for him. Quickly, he took cover and yelled:
"We are under attack form the angels!"
Johnny and Gordon took cover. Five angels bursted into the hospital.
"Take this!" Gordon yelled
A pipe bomb rolled down the corridor and exploded in the angels group. Three angels went down, but one managed to shoot Gordon's arm. Johnny rolled to his side and shot the angel on the floor. Mor eangels arrived in motorcycle, and one rushed with intentions to kill Johnny. Kimba quickly hit him with the butt of his weapon, and carried him into his corner. Johnny shot an angel in the leg, and Kimba finished him off. Gordon, already with his arm treated a bit, shot how he could. He fired three shots, all missed the target, but one hit a tire of a bike. From a big window, more angels attacked. Motorcycles with Lost members appeared. Two members where on the roof of a building. One was quickly killed by an angel, but the other managed to kill three members.
"DIE!" Hordan said as he ran to Johnny.
As all the bullets stopped, only one more angel was left. Hordan ran with its weapon to Johnny, he put it up. A shot. Blood. The corpse fell to the ground, symoblizing the end of the war. All the Lost members watched. They walked over the corpses off the angels. Suddenly, Kimba remembered Mike.
"Mike, something important happened..." Kimba said.
A wheelchair emerged with Mike's body in it. Kimba moved it to the scene.
"This is incredible..." Blake exclamated.
From now on, all the Bold words will be explained here:
Johnny: Previously mispelled as Jhonny. The president of the Lost Club. Check out the Lost and Damned storyline to learn about his story.
Kimba: One of Johnny's favourite backup. He is really good in sneaking and killing without being seen. He joined the club after the LaD storyline. He is thin, with black hair and blue eyes. He is somehow tall, and wears a black jacket with a dark blue t-shirt, and brown pants.
Gordon: Good at fire power, joined not-so-long ago. He can kill easily, but is really noticed. He is fat, bald, and with black eyes. He is short and wears a black jacket with a white T-shirt and purple pants.
Mike: The protagonist of the BUYG stories. Read on my chapters to now his story.
Diamond Hospital: After the LaD storyline, this hospital was inagurated and taken over by the lost.
Hordan: The president of the angels gang. He has long brown hair, and brown eyes. He wears a brown jacket, with a brown T-shirt and brown pants.
Posted 25 January 2010 - 04:02 PM
|QUOTE (Vercetti27 @ Jan 23 2010, 23:17)|
|it's not abondoned, just be patient|
Thank you Vercetti. Thank you, Tyla. Thank you Yami for seeing sense.
Yeah, I've not rated in a while, but, until this burst, there had only been two posters, and I see no urgent need when storytellers are also very quiet. And since your last story had been rated, I believe... And finally, I believe there is a limit of one revolution a year and we had ours in June.
Ratings shall be attended to this week.
Posted 01 February 2010 - 04:13 AM
Episode Three, "Escalazione", Part One
The ink-black sky, punctuated by the pinpr!cks of starlight, slowly gave way to a grey haze as the sun announced its slow emergence. On the ocean far west of Alderney, a lone Squalo bobbed amid the gentle rocking of the waves, while three man-sized, weighted bags were silently heaved into the murky depths by the darkened figures of three men.
While they toiled, across the sea, across Alderney, Algonquin and Bohan, a deep blue Sentinal squealed onto an empty Dukes Boulevard from the Dukes Bay Bridge, its lights blinding two early morning joggers as it climbed the hill and passed under the rail bridge.
Al was concentrating intensely, while Big Lou Clemente gripped his seat and pressed his fingers into the dashboard as the car again became airborne at the top of the hill. The engine whined as Al double-clutched down as he timed a sharp turn, the car squealing sideways, into Harrison Street East, waking the slumbering security guard at the Dukes Police Station rear.
On the entire trip from Alderney, made in record time, neither man had said a word. None needed saying. Lou had heard from Franny, a fellow soldier in the Pegorino Family, a future Caporegime, and his closest friend, who'd been missing over a week, and that was all the urgency Al needed to understand.
Lou's grip on the seat tightened again as the car launched into the air on Bunker Hill Avenue, then spun ninety-degrees as it hit the road again and slid, screeching, to a stop at the southern curbside of Livingston Street, right next to the Medical Centre. Across the street, atop the steps to the Dukes Police Station, a lone police officer sipping his early morning wake-up coffee shook his head disappointedly, but offered no further opposition to their reckless driving.
Lou would ordinarily have complemented, or chastised, Al's highly-trained and excessively-agreessive driving, but on this morning, he simply climbed from the car, pulled his long coat tighter in the frigid morning air, and walked at great pace for the main doors.
Their search did not last long once they'd been directed to the Critical Care Unit, for inside a glass-enclosed, single-bed observation room opposite a nurse's station, slept a battered and bruised 'Frank Clemente'. Or so the name on the door claimed.
The quick-thinking nurse immediately blocked Lou's entry into Franny's room, an orderly and doctor joining in the blockade. They insisted 'Frank' was sleeping, adding that only family could see him anyway. Lou countered urgently that this was his brother, drawing his driver's license to prove their surnames matched, and the physical blockade dissipated.
Under his breath, Lou thanked Franny's forethought to use Lou's surname as his own.
"Your brother has suffered a wide array of bone fractures, organ and soft tissue damage from what appears to have been a vicious assault," the doctor explained. "So severe were the injuries that he arrived unconscious, with substantial loss of blood and head trauma, and was placed in an induced coma for the past twelve days.
"There appears to be no evidence of physiological brain damage, but, since he needed to be reminded of his own first name when he awoke -- a friend of his, also beaten, told us -- we will be keeping him under observation for at least another week. Which may also give time for his bones to heal."
"What happened to him?" Lou asked urgently. "Does he remember anything?"
"He's not been able to recall any of the events leading up to his being brought to us, but police say they scared-off two men that may have beaten your brother."
"I understand somewhere in Steinway, but you'd be best to check with the police for that information. They've kept a close eye on Frank's progress, and are waiting to question him about what he recalls."
Lou hid his displeasure at this news from the doctor, and looked at Franny's sleeping form, one leg in a complete cast and raised. "Can I go in and see him?"
"Well, yes, but please do not wake him. He needs his rest, so allow him to wake on his own," the doctor instructed. Looking at Al agitatedly hovering behind Lou. "But, only one at a time, okay, fellas?"
"Oh, sure," Al replied, "I'll just hover at the door. I'm just glad Uncle Frank's okay," he added to complete their ruse.
The doctor nodded and stood by as Lou quietly opened the door to Franny's room. As beeps and pings quietly monitored the patient, Lou stood for a moment at the corner of his bed, before taking a seat in quiet anticipation.
Al stood right at the door to Franny's room.
Over the next three hours of their quiet vigil, the corridors tripled their bustle, shifts changed-over, and nurses regularly attended the machines surrounding Franny. And with the noise, Franny awoke with a groan in pain. Lou sat bolt upright.
"Looouuu," Franny drowsily said as he turned his head to the figure in his room.
Lou stood and took Franny's tube-encumbered hand. "How the f*ck arya, Franny?"
Al watched as the two men, whose mutual affection would easily have convinced any observers they were brothers, tried to embrace as Lou kissed Franny on each cheek in greeting and gratitude his brother was alive.
Big Franny was a large, middle-aged, jovial man with a chicken-neck and flabby skin. He was quick with a smile or a joke, but behind those sparkling eyes sat a razor-sharp intellect, a shrewdness that gave him a respect enjoyed by few. His "friends" would come to him for advice on how to set-up a deal to their benefit or how to launder money into legit businesses. He was the shrewd calculating wiseguy, the smart schemer, and never the heavy. Indeed, according to Big Lou, Franny's early attempts at playing the heavy were laughable. Literally, Lou said. Franny's face was always smiling, even when he forced his expression to be menacing. It made patsies laugh, and his debtors into slow payers, only too willing to risk Franny's laughable wrath. He was a failure as a shylock or extortionist. But, Big Lou once recalled, when old Don Pegorino put Franny in charge of a wire room, put him in charge of negotiating deals, gave him jobs that required a soft touch and a sharp mind, Franny became one of the biggest earners of Alderney or Liberty City.
Therefore, Al considered it something of a shock to see the amiable Franny, lying there in that hospital bed, tubes and wires twisting and connecting to all over his body, bearing a pained scowl, breaking into tears of shame. For while Al may have been standing outside for security, with the door slightly ajar, he heard enough.
"They beat the sh!t outa me, Lou," he said urgently. "Pointed f*cking pistols at my head and would have fired if not for those blue 'n' red lights.
"Ya gotta help me, Big Lou," Franny pleaded.
"Where was Joey V'?" Lou asked of Franny's sometime-bodyguard. Franny became sheepish and remained silent. Franny hesitated with every word as he explained he wasn't accompanied. Lou pressed him for a reason why.
"I was at the Steinway."
"Where in Steinway?"
"THE ... Steinway. Y'know," Franny insisted quietly, his head swaying and nodding to encourage Lou to connect the dots. "The tavern," he finally said.
Lou screwed-up his face and cupped his forehead. Che cavolo, Franny!! Yes, came the reply, he knew. He knew. He'd only gone there for a quick drink.
"An Irish pub?! It's against the f*cking code," Big Lou whispered insistantly. "You know that! What's Gino gonna do if he finds out, much less the weasel," Lou said, referring to their capo, Lodioso.
Franny hid his face in shame. "Why do you think I called you?" Al heard that statement with some pride. Big Lou was the king of discretion -- everyone knew it -- and in their "thing", that was a big-ticket trait that made concrete friends.
Big Lou sighed and moved on. "Would you recognise them again?"
"Oh, yeah," Franny said, getting vengefully animated. "I'll never forget those f*ckers. I've seen them hanging around smoking before."
"Before?!" Lou jolted up. He whispered angrily, "How f*ckin' often you been there?!!"
Franny's face soured and his chin buried itself in the rolls of his gelatinous neck. "F*ck it," Lou finally said, assessing Franny was probably already shamed enough. "I'll take care of it, Franny.
"You got my word."
Al watched Franny's face light-up and the jovial man return. He reached up to hug Lou -- "come 'ere, lemme kiss ya!" -- and Al' actually saw Big Lou crack a wide smile. The pair of them had come up together and, in that moment, they appeared to Al like the pair of teenagers that started hijacking trucks for the Forellis.
Big Lou warned Franny he could never return to the Steinway, not for nothing, but it was an Irish pub, for one. Franny enthusiastically and joyfully agreed.
After a while, Big Lou emerged from the observation room, pulled the door closed and looked at Al. "You been listening?"
Al didn't even try to lie. "Just wanted to hear everything was okay," he replied, honestly. "It was only a little open, and with the noise in here, no one else woulda heard nuthin', Lou."
"Ah," Lou nodded appreciatively. Thoughtfully. The truth mattered to Lou. He gave a playful scouple of soft slaps on Al's cheek. "Well, you know better than to say word-one about what you heard to anyone."
"F*ck, yeah," Al said emphatically. "Don't worry about me, Lou. I aint heard nuthin' and I aint sayin' sh!t to no one. On my mother's life."
"Yeah," Lou snorted a laugh, "probably."
He put his arm around Al. "Then I got a job for you."
The pair walked down the busy corridor, Lou quietly explaining to Al what he needed.
"Go get yourself one o' them digital cameras, but make sure it has a long zoom lens, 'cuz you don't want to have to be within twenty yards o' the people you're photographing."
"Woah," Al quietly exclaimed. "I'm photographing everyone at the Steinway?"
"Anyone that lights-up outside, yeah," Lou confirmed. "Don't bother with the women and nobody that aint Irish-lookin'. And when you've got them all, we'll show them to Franny and he can identify the rabid dogs that put him in a hospital bed.
"Take the the Sentinel, 'cuz I want you to go there several times a day. And you should go inside and check out the crowd, get familiar with the faces. Anyone likely, you wait for them to go smoke outside and snap-snap.
"Anyone comes at ya, you tell 'em sh!t. Not your name, not where you're from. Don't even carry ID. And park the car in the alley, outa sight. They see you get into it and they could make you as my guy and f*ck you up the next time you show. So be f*ckin' careful, you hear me?
"Got it, Lou."
"And when you print the shots... better yet," Lou said, pulling out his money roll and peeling a few hundreds off the outside, "go buy one o' them hi-res printers that prints straight off the camera and print the photos y'self. But you hide the prints. Nobody sees them. Not ya Mother, not the Rocker, not a f*cking soul. Don't tell no one nothin'. You're just doing some sh!t for me. That's all you say."
"Crystal f*ckin' clear, Lou. You can count on me."
"Yeah, well, don't think this aint a test, kid," Lou told him. "You do this good, and this'll earn you big score with me 'n' Franny."
Al nodded appreciatively, before changing the subject slightly. "Who do you think they were?"
"Oh, I think we can guess pretty good," Lou said, a knowing and vengeful smile crossing his face. "They'll be some Irish mob wannabes that want in, and saw Franny as their big shot.
"Kid, since Jimmy died, every piece o' sh!t thinks we're finished. The rats are out to test us, find our weaknesses, hit us in little ways to see whether we'll bite," Lou snarled. "And, if we don't, take a bite out our asses.
"And, hey, why not. We used to be thirty or forty wise guys, not ten. We can't cover everything we used to own. And they smell it."
Lou snapped shut for a long while, and Al knew better than to interrupt his pensive moment. "That sh!t with the Russians cost us bad," he finally said. "Which is why when we hit, we gotta hit twice as hard.
"You get it?"
"Yeah, Lou," Al replied. "Twice as hard."
I am genuinely interested in feedback. If you'd prefer not to clog the thread, feel free to PM instead.
This story received $50 and staff wrote: "Enthralling read, Franny reminds staff of Big Joey Massino but even if that was not intended it says something about your character construction that staff could build a clear picture in staff’s head."
View next scene
Edited by aragond, 08 May 2010 - 05:02 AM.
Posted 01 February 2010 - 07:08 AM
Secondly, we had 17 stories rated in January, three (Aragond's) from the previous decade, which is about the same as last year's 13. If all goes according to 2009, we'll have double that number this month, double again in March, and TRIPLE that in April while you folks get really excited about doing something other than boring old college studies. So, get cracking!
Irish Mob | Lucky Winkles Bar | Chapter 1
$43 + $1,301 = $1,344
Firstly, please allow twenty-four hours between posting stories. You appear to have fired them into the thread within six minutes. Definite no-no.
Staff really likes your opening line as poetic and scene-setting. (Took a while to figure out where the Lucky Winkles is, but can you see the river from there? Don't recall.)
Huh, Frankie's alive. Have you played IV to the end? So I trust that means Derrick is dead or this is set before the events of GTA IV. Yes? And yet Kate's still dating Niko, neither dead nor rejected him. Hmmm.
Staff reckons you have more than adequately given strong characterisations to these new guys, Dermot, Michael and Aodhan. The "nottin'"s and swearing really made Staff feel the thoroughly Irish stereotypes. The writing could do with a little more description at times, and Dermot's rambling about Kate on the phone seemed stilted, but, overall, with a good length, few grammatical/spelling shortfalls, this is a strong opening salvo in what seems might be a very good storyline.
Irish Mob | Lucky Winkles Bar | Chapter 2
$38 + $1,344 = $1,382
Now, this one, at only 520 words, is way too short, and that's a shame, because your brutal descriptions make for engrossing reading! This story ought to have gotten a higher a rating but for the length.
Alright, who are you? Are you an alias of another username? Is that you, Mitch? Rucke? Hmmmm....
Staff was confused by the phrase but had little enough conscience to stop the champ bare-knuckled fighter throwing him face-first into the platform concrete. Do you mean consciousness, perhaps? Conscience is what Aodhan would have had a pinch of to prevent himself from killing them, if you catch my drift.
Overall, Staff was impressed by the illuminating description of a brief, bloody punch-up in a railway carriage. Very good.
Irish Mob | Lucky Winkles Bar | Chapter 3
$41 + $1,382 = $1,423
Staff can't help feeling you, much like Aodhan, have run out of puff by the time you got to this story. Maureen's referring to Aodhan as "kid" seems very un-Maureen-like ("young man", "boy" might sound more elderly Irish), and the grammatical issues are creeping in: "Get running you f*cking druggy." demanded Aodhan. -- the first full stop should be a comma. And does Stunned and shocked refer to Aodhan, in which case what stunned and shocked him, or the driver, who just got a knee to the head? If the driver, you've gotten that sentence wrong, 'cuz it definitely appears to be referring to Aodhan since it says his name immediately after.
Still, there's also flashes of the old Maverick goodness: laughter from the rear garden assured both of them he was at least alive. is a nicely succinct way of telling us the facts, while Packie was trashing violently, puncturing his chest repeatedly is almost poetic in its violence.
This is good work. It's been two weeks since you last posted, but Staff sees you're checking in. Hopefully we'll hear more from you in future.
Three stories in rapid succession (six minutes): first and final warning.
Pegorino Family | Pegorino Mansion | Chapter 10 Wiping out the Competition
$39 + $3,608 = $3,647
This is a pretty solid effort. Staff is gratified you've managed to get to ten stories with this storyline, too. Likeable story thread. Hoorah!
Still more grammatical issues: the usual suspects. Staff won't harp on, V, just know that you could be getting a better rating but for these.
Oh, something new -- Bruce (the fat one) gave -- brackets/parentheses shouldn't really be used in the middle of a sentence in a story. Use commas -- Bruce, the fat one, gave -- or, if it's a really aside note, use dashes (as I have). (This isn't a story. I can use brackets there.)
After all, experience gives you knowledge. Not just grey hair and an erectile dysfunction. Thanks, Staff appreciated the chuckle.
Staff feels you could have done more with the opening of the back of the van: if it took Sonny a second to aim and kill each man, it's a certainty they had at least three seconds to fire on Jimmy's crew. What happened? Did anyone get shot? Did the Coquette get shot to pieces? Or did you forget to tell us they were already badly wounded by Sonny's shooting four shots into each window? Not so good.
Still, overall, entertaining and enjoyable.
Tenth story award: (unselected)
Tyla's reply to Yami was so long it almost got rated as a story.
Pegorino Family | Drusilla's | Chapter 3 Sit-down
$44 + $3,647 = $3,691
Once more, with considerable trepidation that Staff moves to rate one of Rucke's stories!
At 1,691 words, you're not lacking for length! (This is enormous! Speaking of enormous, have any of you given thought to the fact that with, say, thirty stories at, say, 1,700 words a pop, you've written a short novel.)
There's fewer basic typo's in this, yet some incorrect phrases you might not know: old and ran down should be old and run down; The man was growing bald. should be The man was going bald, while Big Luca was making run forrest should, of course, be Big Luca was making a run for it.
And the words evasive action in the talking was only an evasive action aren't right, because an evasive action is something physical you do to evade capture or avoid being stabbed, not the prattling you're doing. You could be being evasive, which is to avoid addressing directly what you were asked (something politicians do), but I think the correct word you seek might be distraction or, better, the talking was only a subterfuge.
Grammatically, just watch out for the old comma in quotations: "Sit down." Big Luca said should have a comma instead: "Sit down," Big Luca said.
Finally, The place seemed almost to empty in Luigi opinion. should be The place seemed almost too empty in Luigi's opinion.
I'm guessing these are just ESL issues, which is fine, but do watch out for the commas-in-quotes bit.
Back in Italia, where Luigi came from, could have benefitted from different expression, like "Back home, Italia, ..." But overall, I like that sentence, indeed that whole paragraph: setting the scene of tension, suspense, and Luigi's almost cavalier "meh"-ness to it all.
Staff was a little surprised by the coming unarmed to a sit-down. Insomuch as Staff understands it from his Godfather and Sopranos-viewing, and reading, a sit-down is often hosted by a third, neutral party who's responsible for your security inside. They'll take all your weapons off you and won't mind that you have them. Afterall, having a gun en route to a sit-down is safer, just in case you get set-upon before you get there. So, this conflicted with my understanding. Still, it's a minor point. Staff knew what you meant.
Luigi seemed a little impossibly good using a knife, blindly behind him. I suspect some details were missing, like that he has eyes in the back of his head. Secondly, did he leave the gun he used to shoot out Luca's car in their car? That wasn't clear from the start.
Hmm, it seems Staff has spent a lot more words reviewing this. Put it down to um... insanity.
Overall, it was good, but it lacked the flourishes of the first and the excitement of the second in this series. Still, a very solid effort marred only by some minor errors.
The Lost | Meth Lab | Chapter 3 What is essential
$25 + $969 = $991
Once again, at 359 words, this is insanely too short. With the amount that goes on in your stories, you really should have twice as many words, and three times as many with your database's facts.
Some basic spelling errors that a spell-checker will solve, some grammatical ones (pls review Staff's earlier grammar lessons), but also some wrong-word clangers: Drived by Johnny should be Driven by Johnny, of course.
While Staff appreciated the "database" at the end, this information is really the sort of thing that you weave into your story's narrative. The physical description of Hordan isn't absolutely necessary detail to include in the story, sure, but then for a character so quickly killed off, we don't really need to know much about him at all. Always be thinking about what we need to know, what's important to know to help us understand them, or to perhaps explain why the character did this or that. Using the database, a glossary, really, is not good story format.
And while it is called an exclamation mark, you exclaim when you say something loudly. So, Blake should have exclaimed not exclamated. It's all good.
Staff feels you have a good solid base to work with, some reasonable ideas being let down by short stories and a lack of narrative and description. While Staff appreciates that probably takes you thrice as long as someone writing in English normally, it would get you a better rating.
Pegorino Family | Recycling Plant | Story #13
Aragond eagarly awaits hearing from other staff regarding his rating.
~ Aragond on behalf of Skramz, whose exams are really, really long.
Edited by Build Up Your Gang, 01 February 2010 - 09:48 AM.
Posted 05 February 2010 - 08:35 PM
call me Will
Posted 08 February 2010 - 03:06 AM
|QUOTE (The Huge Deal @ Feb 5 2010, 20:35)|
| Hey people, i'm not that good at it, but can i write? If so i'll take the Yardies, anywhere will be fine, i was going to join SA, but it looks F*ucked up, oh and|
call me Will
I think you'll find you're in the wrong place (or I am). The Yardies are in BUYG-SA, available from here.
However, yes, seeing as BUYG-SA is undergoing some period of adjustment, you may join here, but you'll have to select a new gang from this list.
Please note, however, that this here is BUYG-IV, which means it fits in the IV universe, which means there is no Yardies (they died out years ago), and the city and characters and events must lie within the GTA IV universe. Capiche?
A'ight den, mon. Do ya do.
Addendum: No ratings because there's only Aragond's story to rate. (And he doesn't deserve a rating.)
Posted 23 February 2010 - 11:35 AM
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