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- » Viewing Profile: Topics: El Burro 69
El Burro 69Member Since 12 Sep 2009
Offline Last Active Mar 27 2010 04:35 PM
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Grand Theft Auto IV
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Topics I've Started
10 November 2009 - 04:53 PM
Where is the small mission where there is a bomb in Louis's car (presumably left by Margot?) and he has to survive. I remeber this was said.
Why can't we go into Bahama Mama's except for one mission?
What a huge letdown on the part of Rockstar. They made it out to be a fully interactive location on their website.
Where is Tony Prince? He completely dissapears off the face of the earth with no explanation whatsoever.
Also, it was said (by Rockstar themselves) that you would have to make difficult choices in the game right from the start where you either have to choose to help your mother or Tony. Yeah right. Where are the choices? There are none in the game which I came across. Is there something I'm missing?
I can't remember anything else at the moment.
All in all, good game but it kind of felt rushed and a bit unfinished. They could have at least added 30 missions this time.
Anyway just my 2 cents.
02 November 2009 - 12:03 PM
Any tips or ideas on how to make a lot of cash quickly. I want to buy the grenade launcher and lots of ammo
02 October 2009 - 05:41 PM
Crouching Girlfriend, Hidden Boyfriend Part 2
Sophia. My Sophie, the wise one. We’ve been together for months now and the passionate interest we have for each other is still strong. I continue with my lyrical ballads while she continues with her spiritual discipline with the martial arts. The two arts seem to be compatible with each other, just as I and Sophie are side to side in bed. Every part of our bodies seems to fit perfectly together, a fusion of sweating limbs and beating hearts. A lock and key mechanism that opens up a metaphysical realm of compassion, for each other, for our two different natures. A melting pot of masculine and feminine, merging to form One.
Yet, I still can’t overcome the feelings of uneasiness and intimidation she brings about in me, sometimes unexpectedly. Sophie will sometimes be in the living room, in the position of a perfect split with her supple legs balanced on two upright chairs in a state of meditation, perfectly still. Her presence is heavy at times like these and I feel inadequate. I do not want to disturb her, yet I can’t keep my eyes off the beauty of her hitching and rising diaphragm. Her intensity can be quite profound. Sometimes, she’ll coax me into helping her train. I feel hesitant about this at times, because it does not really interest me but I do it nonetheless out of my love and respect for her. I will end up holding soft pads for Sophie in the backyard, while she strikes at them with perfect accuracy and grace. I sometimes lose grip of the pads because of the immense force that she can conjure up within her petite frame. It amazes me, yet it still intimidates me. Her physicality is pronounced. Sophie always laughs and jokes around at these times, coaxing me to try it out with her, but I only chuckle and mention I’ve got to hit the books instead. She gives me a playful nudge and says she understands. She insists on reading everything I write. She’s the best critic I’ve ever had, not afraid to ask questions and speaks truthfully about my work. I really appreciate that. We still jog together sometimes. People always ask me if she’s butch or extremely muscled when I tell them about her. I mention she’s the complete opposite. Her feminine build completely deceives her abilities. It fascinates people. Sophia fascinates me.
However, recently we’ve hit a rocky patch in our relationship. It all happened at the college we were attending every other weekday. One day, we were walking to class on the opposite side of the campus, when a guy that always heckles me decides to give me grief in front of Sophia. He was an old bully from high school many years back. He wasn’t aware we were dating at the time and ignored her presence.
“Bobby boy. You still fagging around with Shakespeare? The 60’s are over man.”
He chuckles and there are a few gazes from students around us making their way to class. He looks at me obnoxiously and then shifts his
eyes to Sophia, finally acknowledging her.
“Who’s this bro? How much did you pay this babe to walk to class with you? You’re shameful man”
Sophie doesn’t look too pleased. I’ve had enough. The guy was insulting me in front of her and I wouldn’t let that stand. I decide to take the initiative and step forward. I want to show Sophie that I’m not the pushover I used to be in high school. I don’t really like confrontation though. I try my best to avoid it at times but there was no escaping it now with Sophie watching. What would she think if I just ignored him? I didn't want to come across as a coward, especially in front of her. I’m not a coward after all. I take on the position of the protective boyfriend again.
“I don’t pay for women like you do Tommy, and this 'babe' is Sophia. She's my girlfriend. Grow up already man. Have some respect.”
I look serious and irritated with him but he doesn’t care. He just chuckles at me and winks at Sophia which gets under my skin.
“Take it easy Bobby Boy, I’m yankin’ your chain.”
He walks past us and punches me in the arm like he always does in a half-joking way. I know Tommy all too well. This is his way of expressing his frustration at me. The shot is quite hard and it hurts like hell. Sophie doesn’t like it at all. Before I even have a chance to react, she unexpectedly walks past me and solidly punches him in the arm back, with a fluid motion, making him wince. Her shot sounds harder. People start to stare.
“Don’t hit him. Keep your hands to yourself”, Sophie says. She looks at Tommy sternly. I start to get a little embarrassed.
“Sophie, don’t worry about it. He’s just an old friend”, I say, hoping she’ll back off.
Tommy looks at her with a look of surprise and irritation. He never liked assertive girls. Tommy then does something I didn't approve of. He pushes Sophie away quite roughly, but she manages to regain her footing again which is not surprising.
“Hey, don’t push her man!”
I quickly walk over to where Tommy is and try to push him away from Sophia to stop the inevitable while I still can, but he forcibly pushes me down, making me slip down to the grass. He’s a bit bigger than I am. Instantly and without warning, I see Sophia’s leg flash up off the ground, followed by a heavy grunt. The inevitable has happened. She’s kicked him in the stomach, knocking his wind out. He falls to the ground right next to where I am on the grass and gasps hoarsely, clutching his abdomen. His eyes looked glazed over with surprise. By now there is a small throng of people around us, staring at us out of curiosity. Some start to laugh, while others inquire about the event. I quickly get up. Tommy strains his flushed face and shouts up at me between gasps. Surely the kick had not been that hard.
“You get your girlfriend – to protect you now? What the hell man – she your bodyguard?“
A few people chuckle at this remark and stare at me. Some are applauding Sophie. I can feel my cheeks burning red. I had never wanted this to happen at all. Sophie looks over at me, her light brown hair a bit askew on her face. She looks a bit embarrassed herself and I can’t quite place my finger on her true feelings at this moment. Surely she should have known her own strength. She didn’t have to hurt the guy like that or maybe she didn’t mean to. Was it just an impulse, like an instant reaction to danger without thinking? Are her reflexes so honed at this point that she can’t control them after all? I want to tell myself, convince myself that all of this is true, but I know the real reason for her actions. She did it for me. Why must she always be the one fighting my battles? It’s not like I ask her to. I feel anger rising up within me and not only that, shame as well. I see that Sophie can sense this and walks over to me, a look of worry on her face. I step backwards out of the small circle of excited students and turn my back to her. I start to walk briskly, quickening my pace, just wanting to escape the embarrassment, to get away from everyone one, to get away from her. I hear her trying to catch up to me.
“Rob?” she cries.
“Leave me alone”, I mutter.
I quicken my pace and try to look as dignified as I can as I make my way to the exit. I’m being such an ass I say to myself, but I just feel more anger and bitterness swelling up, drowning out any of the rational thoughts that were trying to swim to the surface. I look back at her without a break in my stride and see that she’s stopped. She looks on at me with concerned and guilty eyes, more than anything else; she looks extremely hurt and unsure of herself. I can’t make out if there are tears in her eyes. My heart sinks a bit but I steel myself and push on. I force myself not to care. Let her feel what I’m feeling for a change. How could she have done this to me? I never look back again and finally reach our apartment, just a few blocks away from the college. I let myself in and head to the spare bedroom. I lie down and try to comprehend what has just happened. I didn't care anymore. All I wanted to do was sleep. I try and hear footsteps outside the front door but eventually pass out into the welcoming realms of forgetful slumber.
01 October 2009 - 06:25 PM
It’s only a matter of time now before she finds me. She’ll no doubt corner me like a mouse in my own apartment. They call her Silhouette, because she can trail you like a shadow. She’s Brazilian and smoking hot, which makes it easier for her to kill. I’ve pissed off the Parisian mob and now they’ve sent her after me. Let her come. I’m ready.
I’ve done my research. She doesn’t use weapons. They’re too messy and unpredictable. Instead, Silhouette specializes in lethal martial arts and seduction to despatch of her targets. She lures men in like a black widow and when the time is right, she strikes. I’m one of the few, if not only men to know about her existence.
Weighing the odds, I doubt that I could defeat her in a physical fight, let alone fend her off. I know nothing about martial arts or any other forms of hand to hand combat. What I do know however, is that I’m a skilled marksman. The Parisian mob once knew that too. I had been their hitman. Since I’ve fallen from their grace however, they’ve managed to strip all of my firearm privileges away through their various contacts. Now I sit in my penthouse apartment unarmed and defenceless. She must be aware of this. That is why they’ve sent her. All I have is the baseball bat I now grasp in my hands as I lay on the couch listening to the front door. I’ve made the necessary preparations. Let her come. I’ll rather take my chances and go out swinging rather than die without a fighting chance at all. Now I wait for Silhouette to creep her way into the room, like the shadows that emerge at the crack of dawn.
Days go by and still I wait with dread and anticipation. There is no escaping her in the end. Until eventually, she comes. I am in the living room looking out the huge picture window overlooking the Parisian streets from the eighteenth floor of the Lexicon Hotel. That is when I hear the front door slowly open, followed by the sound of high-heels clicking against the tiled floor. They must have arranged a key for her to get in or she figured something else out. Either way, it was inevitable. The baseball bat is propped up against the couch, halfway across the modern looking suite. Just my luck.
I turn around and see her. Her dark and gorgeous eyes meet mine. Her long black hair flows around her beautiful Brazilian face. She is wearing an evening dress with a slit down the side, revealing her long, brown tanned legs. She looks young and athletic, barely in her twenties. Silhouette never says a word to me. She merely locks the front door and hides the key in an inside pocket, staring at me intently. She sees the stereo to the left of the door and switches it on, turning the volume dial up. Evil Woman by ELO just happens to be playing on a golden oldies radio station. The goddamn irony of it all I think. She kicks off her high-heels. And so it begins.
She starts to make her way towards me, her intense eyes never leaving mine for a second. She readies her stance as she makes her way around the couch, her fists raised and waiting. My eyes quickly shift to the baseball bat. She notices this and briefly glances at the bat and stops just a few feet away from me, her bare feet planted firmly apart in her combat stance. She gives me a cocky smile, as if to toy with me as a predator does before killing its prey.
“Your move Messier”
I look at her blankly with a poker face, so as not to give away my state of mind.
I could at least appear confident and powerful. Maybe it would give me the upper hand I needed in this fight.
She starts to bounce on the balls of her feet, getting ready to strike. Quick as a flash and without warning, she launches a leg into the air attempting to knock me down with a roundhouse kick. Her evening dress trails over my head in a whirl of fabric as I duck at the last moment catching a brief glimpse of her satin panties. No time for sightseeing I tell myself. There is a rush of air above my head as I lunge for the baseball bat next to the couch.
I grasp it and catch hold of the handle, stumbling my way into the depths of the living room. I can hear her behind me. I turn around brusquely and clumsily swing the heavy bat at her with one hand. She easily evades my attack and moves in to deplete the available swinging room I have left with the bat. I am rocked back as she lands a solid diagonal punch followed by a swift, spinning back kick to my nether region to make me go down. To her mild surprise I am still standing. I stare her in the eye with a look of defiance. The benefit of wearing a cup. Told you I was prepared. Her eyes scan over me and a faint cocky smile appears on her lips.
“I’m impressed Messier”
I take advantage of this distraction and lunge the bat upwards using both hands, hoping to strike her under the chin. Despite my best efforts, she easily sidesteps me and grabs hold of one of my wrists and twists. The pain is immediate and sharp, instantly incapacitating me. The bat drops to the ground with a dull thud and rolls under the couch. I cry out with surprise. She’s lighting fast. She twists my arm back, propping me upright and rapidly launches a flurry of successive kicks to my stomach, knocking my wind out. Her feet are a motionless blur, her eyes fixed on mine with a savage assassin’s concentration. Her dress hitches up and down, creating a whirlwind of fabric. She finishes me off by flipping me over onto my back. I land solidly with a breathless grunt, the back of my head making contact with the tiled floor. I’m in a world of pain by now and the bat might as well be out of the question now. She’d never allow me the chance to retrieve it. Slightly dazed, I can hear the radio still blaring away, drowning out our struggle to the world beyond my locked front door. I’m desperate for an upper hand.
On the ground, I close my eyes halfway and feign unconsciousness to buy some time. She stands over me and soon I hear a rush of air above my head. I gaze through my half-shut eyes and see one of her beautifully and evocative long legs, rising high up above me, as if to touch the ceiling with her foot. Time seems to come to a complete standstill. With her leg suspended in the air, I can see the delicate embroidery of her satin panties, the healthy tanned glow of her curvaceous thighs. It is at this point in time that I truly acknowledge how notorious she is, for being both a seductress and a lethal fighter. She seems to incorporate both styles so efficiently and strategically that I may as well have been hypnotized. Silhouette has the drop on me, both figuratively and literally. Her choice of dress was coldly calculated. I now realize that she is attempting a deadly axe kick, and not merely showing off for my amusement. If I don’t act quickly, she’ll finish me off for good.
I time my escape well and roll out from underneath her savage kick moments before impact. The force of the kick is so great, that one of the tiles has cracks running down its surface. She retracts her leg without so much as a wince of pain, turning her head to track my every movement. A look of growing irritation and impatience is mounted on her face. Her exotic eyes harden as she shifts back into her fighting stance. She’s not playing around any more, that’s for sure.
I make a run for the front door and ram my shoulder into it as hard as I can. The frame is solid and sturdy, refusing to give way. Pain shoots through my shoulder. Just what I need, I think. Trapped and nothing I can do about it. Cornered like a goddamn mouse.
“Take it like a man Messier”
She quickly comes up behind me and I thrust my elbow out, hoping to hit her. She effectively blocks the blow with her forearm and uses my own momentum against me, spinning me around to face her. At least the bitch has common courtesy, I think. With her eyes fixed on mine, she lets loose a devastating combo of punches and elbows which I try to deflect in vain. She ends with a powerful thrust kick, breaking the bridge of my nose. I clench my face and see blood on my hands. First blood, I think. The blood has finally begun to flow. I fall back against the locked front door, sagging to the ground. No need to act unconscious now. This is the real deal. My vision flutters about me and all I can see is a lethal weapon, the Brazilian Silhouette standing over me in her stance of death.
She reaches down and lifts me up by the collar of my leisurely silk shirt, bringing me up to her eye level. At first, she struggles to get me on my feet but I eventually make an effort to rise under her grasp. Seems like she’s not the bionic woman after all. My back slides up against the door for support. Breathing heavily, I strain to look her in the eyes but my vision is blurry. I can barely make out her features. Still holding me by the collar to keep me from falling again, she draws back her other hand and forms a fist with three fingers extended to form some sort of claw. No doubt a kung fu finisher. I manage to gather my remaining strength to spit at her. She ignores this and looks me straight in the eyes. For the first time though, her eyes seem to grow soft, they look sincere and regretful.
“You were the best Messier”, she mutters, her voice soft and thoughtful.
Too weak to speak, I just vaguely nod my head and accept my fate. Maybe I was the one that lasted the longest or perhaps she was referring to my time as a hitman. I’ll never know. It’s not like I’ll get the chance to ask her in the future. Oh well, at least I went out swinging, in my own way I guess. Better than nothing. On the radio, Frank Sinatra is singing Fly Me To The Moon. Suddenly, to my surprise, she kisses me tenderly and very briefly on the lips.
She draws back, her eyes still soft. Then the fist comes at me like a snake, engulfing me in its painful maw. Then...darkness. Alas poor Yorick, we knew thee well. Still got a sense of humour I think, even when I’m on the brink of oblivion. (Note this is Ending One)
After what felt like an eternity, I begin to see objects fluttering around my vision. I look for the bright light at the end of the tunnel, but only see flickering images. That’s when I realize I’m in a French motel room in the countryside, starting at a TV screen. I feel something heavy on my face. It’s a plastered bandage covering my nose. Beside me on the king sized bed, is a small letter. It reads, “I’ve never fought someone as persistent as you Messier. It would have been a crime to kill one of our own. Meet me at the Riviera. It’s time we put an end to the Parisian mob”. (Ending 2)
30 September 2009 - 05:27 PM
Driving The Stake Home
Vinnie was ordered to carry out a hit. It was to take place at the Carrion Nightclub and Bar on the outskirts of town where Albie and his boys smoke crack out of luminous fluorescent lights. Albie and his boys are suspected of killing off the Big Boss Man’s button men on a regular basis. Now it was time to put an end to it, to blast Albie and his boys into a gray oblivion.
Vinnie is the man for the job. Having become a capo-regime in just under three years, he knows how the business works down to a T. It starts to rain, making the neon signs outside the nightclub shine garishly onto Vinnie’s windscreen, while he scopes the place from the comfort of his sedan. His slick black hair shines against the contrast of the shimmering neon lights. Vinnie decides to make his move.
Splashing his way down the dark and cold street, Vinnie makes his way into the Carrion Nightclub and Bar, grasping a silver plated Uzi in his inside jacket pocket. The place is dark and smells of musk, whiskey, sweat and something else. A coppery smell he can’t seem to get his mind around. There are only a few people present, all sitting at the bar with their cocktail martinis and white russians. They’re kids. Vinnie strides over to the bar and pulls out a small wad of cash. He places it down next to a kid with a Hawaiian shirt. “Beat it”, Vinnie says, looking at the small group of friends with cool and steely eyes. They immediately sense his position of power and scram after making their own deductions from his strong Italian features.
Vinnie notices that the bartender is absent from behind the counter. The place is eerie, a bit too quiet for a club. Faint music issues forth from a speaker on the wall. It sounds like 99 Luftballoons. In a corner of the club, he notices a backdoor. It is slightly ajar. Vinnie equips his Uzi in a ready position and slowly makes his way to the backdoor. He gazes through the open crack and sees a faintly lit corridor. A bare bulb lights up the place. Vinnie slowly creeps toward a door at the far end of the corridor. Faint and muffled sounds can be heard from within the room. Vinnie’s nerves grow taut with steel, the same steel that will soon be spraying forth from his micro SMG.
The door is unlocked. Vinnie slowly sways it open with his shoulder, clutching the Uzi firmly with both hands, his trigger finger twitching with anticipation. He sees Albie and his boys on their haunches, drenched in blood. They are making snarling noises, their backs turned to him. Vinnie can make out a tangle of motionless limbs stretched out from beneath their huddling. The room is speckled with blood and gore.
Now Vinnie knows what that coppery smell had been. “Jesus H Christ”, Vinnie murmurs with incredulous eyes. One of them hears him and quickly whips around. It is Albie. His long greasy hair is tied up in a ponytail, matted with caked and drying blood. Albie’s eyes are porcelain blue, his whites have completely disappeared. He hisses, exposing a pair of razor sharp fangs. The three other men around him start to rouse from their hypnotic feeding and glare in his direction, gore spilling down their fronts. The sight is horrifying. One of them has coal-like eyes, completely sinister and menacing. They start to growl at Vinnie, one of them grins maliciously, exposing razor sharp incisors. They look like filed down needles.
“Mother of god”, Vinnie whispers. There is a slight movement from Albie. Vinnie sprays the room with the Uzi in a terrified frenzy, sending flakes of plaster, glass and debris swirling around in a mass of confusion. A few moments pass in the now quiet room. Through the settling dust, Vinnie can make out the thing known as Albie easily closing the distance towards him, even though there are seeping, dark patches under his shirt. The bullets have not done a thing. The rest of the things in the room quickly launch to their feet in a rapid flow of movement and seemingly lurch into the air like pouncing predators, snarling their bloodlust at Vinnie.
Vinnie shouts in fear and instinctively slams the door shut without thinking. A series of powerful thuds hit the steel door, threatening to send it off its hinges. Vinnie is knocked back into a wall and looses his footing, sprawling to the cold floor. He looks up at the heavily dented door. Instead of merely opening it, the snarling things on the other side of it are literally tearing it apart. Demonic, metallic sounding cries threaten to pierce through Vinnie’s paralyzed brain. His body and mind are in a state of shock. Panic starts to take hold of him. It clutches him with its quick and jittery claws. He feels like a caged and helpless animal.
It takes all that Vinnie has just to get up again. He starts to run for the exit of the building, stumbling forward again almost falling head over heels. The steel door falls to the floor in a heap of crumpled steel. Vinnie’s heart starts to jackhammer at a dangerous rate. Something tells him that the things behind him can sense this, as their snarls grow in intensity and insanity. Vinnie runs past a bathroom, briefly glimpsing the bartender standing in the entrance. His eyes are an intense blood-red and are fierce. Vinnie sees an afterimage of the bartender in his minds eye as he desperately runs towards the exit. It is horrifying. Behind him, Vinnie can hear the things sprinting at an abnormal speed. He can feel their hot breath on his neck.
Vinnie blindly fires his Uzi behind him without looking and hears the bullets hit flesh with dull thuds that produce no sounds of pain or anguish from the things that are pursuing him. They merely growl louder to drown out the sounds of the bullet spray. Vinnie is now out the door, running as fast as humanly possible. The cool night air is cold and refreshing, surging within Vinnie, a newfound determination to escape these embodiments of horror, which he thought had only existed within the realms of fiction.
Vinnie does not look behind him once, even though the snarls and rapid footfalls have ceased. He jumps into the idling sedan, muttering profanities hoarsely, his eyes glazed over with a deep seeded fear. His heart feels like flowing liquid, sloshing about within his chest cavity. He dares to glance in the direction of the Carrion Nightclub and Bar. He sees nothing, only the faint flicker of neon lights and the entrance. Frightened to his wits, Vinnie stalls the car at first in his rush to escape the foreboding club. He gets it right the second time and screeches off into the night, wanting to disappear over the horizon as fast as he can.
A few brief moments later, whilst speeding along the road towards the glowing city in the distance, the car roof implodes inwards on itself with a sudden and violent crash. Vinnie screams and loses control of the wheel, swerving the sedan across the black-top asphalt road. He eventually regains control of the sedan and can hear the things slamming their limbs into the roof of the car, snarling and hissing at him with an otherworldly evil. With a lowered head, Vinnie hears the screeching tear of metallic sheet and briefly glances upwards, only to see needle-like teeth puncturing through the metal of the roof. Vinnie screams and sprays the lasts few rounds of his Uzi into the roof of the sedan, rambling and swearing incoherently.
Vinnie fails to see a turn-off and careens the sedan down a mountainside ditch, rushing past high trees and rocks, finally crashing into a massive boulder. A blur of bodies are thrown into the night sky in front of Vinnie’s windshield, tumbling violently down the slopes of a jagged rocky outcrop directly in front of and below the massive boulder, which has saved Vinnie’s life. His forehead is cut open and his legs are mangled. Beside him, lies the thing once known as Albie, heavily injured from the crash and barely alive. Albie looks into Vinnie’s eyes with a sheer intense evil and manages a low and menacing growl.
Vinnie sees a piece of jagged steel on the dashboard that has been torn from the roof of the sedan. He takes it and clutches the steel in his right hand with desperation and groggily looks over at the snarling Albie. Vinnie laughs deliriously, a look of crazed intensity on his face. “You don’t look too good paizan. Let me help you out there. f*ckin’ Nosferatu piece of sh*t!”. With that, Vinnie grunts and plunges the jagged tip of the steel into the things heart, laughing hysterically. When the dawn sun breaks the crisp air of the morning, Vinnie is still laughing.