Build Up Your Gang : A New Era

[The Sicillian]

Oh I get it SloStenRacing you think my story is bad. Well suck my balls I quit. Happy now

Don't give up! How can anyone ever hope to get better if they quit? I don't personally think I'm any good, but I know I've improved since I started writing in the old old thread when Teos ran this.

[9jkearse3]

Oh I get it SloStenRacing you think my story is bad. Well suck my balls I quit. Happy now

Don't give up! How can anyone ever hope to get better if they quit? I don't personally think I'm any good, but I know I've improved since I started writing in the old old thread when Teos ran this.

oh soo true i read some of my first stories and i almost threw up saying " I wrote that" reading other ppls stories help you see what yours is missing

[D Jones]

Chapter 1 : The Beginning

 

I was sitting down in the strip club in Los Santos, The Pig Pen. B-Dup gave me the postion after the owner got mowed down by some OG fool. I felt bad but now im livin tha life, im the club owner of the hottest strip club around and plus im gettin some free lap dances. Me and B-Dup go all the way back in the elementry school days, and all the way up. I was probably the only one who knew he was takin' over the Ballas Glen Park area, Carl Johnson and Him were friends but when he found out I heard B-Dup bitched out. I erased that from my memory and continued to keep killin' those bitch ass ballas. People around called me Big Dawg but my name is Don Hawkins. I called over on of the Ballas. I pulled him down to my face.

 

"Yo, why the f*ck you have that in yo mouf ?", I whispered.

"Man, this sh*t is aloud in herre. Plus this sh*t is realll proper" he said.

 

I clinched my fist in a ball.

 

"Who the f*ck did you buy that from ? We don't sell that Mary J sh*t."

"I bought this sh*t from one of the OG Bitches. I f*cked him up after that" he replied.

 

I punched him in the jaw and started to kick him in the chest. The security came over and grabed me back and tossed me in to my office. I grabed a cig and got a light and lit it up. Smokes helped me calm down, but not marijuana. I used to sell that Coke down in Glen Park, but then B-Dup got me the hell out of there. I took a puff and inhaled it, it felt so good but I knew I had to give it up soon. One of my security Guards came in.

 

"yo boss, that man you f*cked up said he going to tell B-Dup" he said

"Man f*ck that f*ckin' OG buyer. He can suck my 9 inch cock if he comes back around here or he will feel some heat when he is by hiself in his f*ckin' mommas house" he replied

"Ight, I will make shure that his bitch ass won't get back in here." he said

 

He shut the door behind him. I picked up my phone and dialed B-Dups home. He rang for awhile and he finally picked up.

 

"Yo, who the f*ck is this ?" he yelled

"Its, me Big Dawg. Calm the f*ck down." replying back

"Oh, sorry. Man, one bitch came up in herre and was snitchin up on you sayin

you f*cked him up." he said

"He was a OG buyer. I f*cked his ass up, he shouldn't come in my club sellin' that sh*t." yellling

"Hahaha. I f*ckin' killed his ass anyways, I poped my f*ckin' 9 in his head. I got some ballas to drive him off into the San Andreas ocean." he replied

"Ight cool , cool. Man I will be over there tommorow." he replied

 

I hung up and sat back in my chair. I was going to hang out with my old homie tommorow. I wanted to get some revenge on those OG's though. I'm going to f*ck up one of there lifes. I had the cig in my mouth chillin. I called in one of the stripers and told them to shut the door behind them. This was going to be my kind of thing...

 

(Yo Im back ! ! )

 

[SloStenRacing]

Deleted

Edited March 23, 2005 by SloStenRacing

[D Jones]

Why not make a site and then multiple people can update it..That would be hella of alot easier ..

[Nin]

I would like to have Kenji’s Casino of the yakuza...

EDIT: nevermind, after thinking about it, i dont have time to write. sorry.

Edited March 5, 2005 by Nin

[The Professor]

Oh! I'm total merc. at this point. And after what the hell he does, there is no doubt a certian Columbian dope-pusher is s****ing in his pants. Again, appologize for the length.

 

-------- ---------------------------------------------------

 

The Professor sat inside the warm Sentinel for three hours, waiting for the only survivor of the raid on a cargo-ship near Portland Harbor. The newspapers reported countless dead and a strong lead to the Columbian cartel. Apparently, his arrival had caused a good amount of terror in Miguel. Enough for him to switch sides and join the Diablo’s. Word was that he was dealing large in Cocaine and Heroin—through the already prominent connections in the cartel—and dealing for total profit. And there was no doubt that he wouldn’t want any witnesses to his betrayal.

 

Possibility was that Gary was about to be silenced for life. Or, what was left of it.

 

He opened the glove compartment and removed a gun from behind a few spare magazines. He snapped the .45’s port open and loaded another clip into it. Hollow-points—enough to blow a man’s skull clean apart. The image of Miguel’s demise flashed in his mind’s eye. He waited for a few more minutes, then saw the man described to him. Before leaving the guard on the airfield, he was told that Gary “looked like a gangster.” And indeed he did.

 

The Patriot roared off down the road at a fairly high speed. Shifting it into gear, Benedict followed in pursuit to the mansion. Silently, he memorized every lane and turn to himself along the way. Just in case, someday he’d need to retrace his path. A half-hour later, the Patriot swung in through the iron gates and swerved down a dirt road for the steps.

 

Benedict watched the mansion for a couple of spare minutes, lit a cigarette and decided that whatever was going inside didn’t matter to him. If Gary got clipped, it would just save him an extra bullet. That’s all the two were at that time—the hunter, the hunted and the obstacle in his way. He’d never know…

 

The Sentinel shifted off the brake and hammered up the road for a dock vaguely described to him. Benedict turned the rear-view mirror and stared in his own eyes. He heard the silent gunshots in his mind—picturing the man drop on a plastic covering. To be hacked up and left in the forest outside San Andreas for bear-food. There was an ounce of pity in those brown eyes. But he tried to remember his hate, and continued for the dock in Portland.

 

To fully understand the importance of what money meant to Miguel, one had to relieve him of it. Contrary, it was the only method he had at getting to his enemy before killing him. As told to him by a prostitute working for the Columbian’s, to make extra money, the Diablos shipped money in and out of Liberty City weekly. Every Friday, she told him, at the clockwork of a watch, the Diablos checked the outgoing Cocaine and incoming money from surrounding cities. Their product had to be top-notch, and that is exactly what Miguel’s life depended on. If the Coke were even a little cut, the Diablos would rid of him as easy as Gary probably was.

 

The Sentinel tore around a steep curve, lowered on a small dip in the road and gave enough for the car to approach the dock. In front of him was a large wooden shack with a canapé hanging over the doorway. The shack, as he was sparse the technical term, was a sickening red smeared by rust and ruined by rain. To him, it looked suitable enough for a drug-export.

 

Benedict screwed a silencer into his .45 and climbed out of the car. Ten feet down the door opened wide, giving to a husky man who heaved a white bag over his shoulder. The man was clearly Mexican and wore a brown blazer and sandals. The bald man looked up at him. Both the car door and shack door slamming in unison.

 

Benedict cocked his head to the side and stared at him. He observed the man’s change of expression—eyes going from his face, to his clothes, to the gun in his hand—a total transformation from shock to terror. The man opened his mouth to a wide gape and prepared to scream.

 

The .45 raised and spat a silenced bullet across the distance between them. Smoke streaked from the muzzle like a cigarette-trail puffing from two lips. The man grasped his throat, where blood poured from by the pint. The pistol spoke again to the man’s forehead. This time, as if he were dead weight, the man pitched over the hill and rolled to the bank of a river.

 

Benedict walked calmly to the door of the shack, straightening the tie on his suit. A sigh of disgust, and he peeled the door open. The room was very dark. In fact the only light was from outside, reflecting off the light. Around him was the hustling of three men at work. One checked the purity of the Cocaine on a desk; another readied the boats and one more had his back turned to Benedict, but stood a matter of two feet away. To his surprise, there was a casual pace about the entire shipment.

 

‘Roman,’ the one with his back to Benedict muttered. ‘We’re going on deadline.’

 

The Diablo turned around to face the stranger at the door. Raising the gun, he pressed the smoking-hot muzzle against his forehead. A terrible scream filled the shack.

 

The Diablo standing by the two speedboats turned, a cigarette firmly between lips with his sunglasses on, and reached for his back pocket. The .45 went from aside his hostage to the Diablo now holding a pistol and dispensed three shots to his chest. With a wild twist, and sickening gurgle, the Diablo crashed onto the boats; covered a red bathe.

 

The gun swung aside to the Diablo checking the Coke. The tester, reaching toward a Sawn-Off in front of him received a bullet through his anklebone. The tester wailed in agony, dropped to his back on the concrete floor. Then, with his concentration retained, the gun touched the side of the Diablo’s face.

 

‘What’s your name?’

 

The guy stammered, ‘Emilio.’

 

‘Well, Emilio, tell you’re comrade to climb for the boats before he bleeds to death.’

 

Emilio, eyes wide, spoke something in Mexican very quietly. The urgency wasn’t missed, however. As the bleeding Diablo got up and limped his way over to the dead partner.

 

‘You speak English, then?’

 

‘A little.’

 

Benedict waved Emilio aside. ‘Is there a phone here?’

 

‘Ye—yes, sir. On the desk, where its cut, sir.’

 

The bleeding Diablo hunched over the boats and began to tremble. Benedict, swinging the gun sideways, nailed the Diablo right behind the left side of his head. It was a lucky shot. The body spun a three-sixty and fell on one of the boats.

 

‘Emilio, go to the phone.’

 

The two walked rigidly toward the desk. Emilio, the gun behind his ear, had his hands tensed in front of him and his head straight.

 

‘One problem…’

 

‘I don’t like problems,’ Benedict looked over the phone.

 

‘We don’t have anyone’s number. They call us, and we tell them the deal is complete.’

 

‘Our lucky day,’ Benedict pulled a piece of paper from his coat and dropped it on the desk. ‘He answers to the name, Miguel.’

 

Emilio dialed the phone. The receiver quivered in his hand.

 

‘Don’t kill me.’

 

‘Shut it. And don’t pull that ‘revelation at gunpoint’ act. I’ve heard it.’

 

Emilio, still afraid smiled, ‘You’re him, huh? Benedict?’

 

There was no response.

 

‘Between you and I—what they did was beyond our rules. Killing a man—that’s civilized. No women. No children.’

 

The phone answered and Benedict heard his captive tell him that was on.

 

‘Tell him that all of his men are dead. And seventy-thousand in Diablo Coke is about to be reduced to powder.’

 

Emilio relayed the message, gestured for him to pick up the phone. ‘He… wants to speak with you.’

 

Benedict looked over the phone. ‘Does this have an automatic-thing?’

 

‘Sure,’ Emilio, very gently, pressed the speakerphone.

 

The callous voice of Miguel soon filled his ears. It hadn’t changed, and was more arrogant than ever.

 

‘Charlie, my friend.’

 

Benedict snarled, ‘F*ck off! You’ve got two things against you. Me, and me.’

 

‘Charles, settle. You have to understand,’ Miguel’s voice was calm and remote. ‘this is a business. You threatened my future and me. I had to act. Now, if I’d have wanted to kill you whore girlfriend, I’d have made damned sure your brains were splattered all over the docks, as well.’ The traitor chuckled to himself. ‘When you think of it, this is all a tragic series of misfortune. I loved Celeste—ever since she was a girl. And I’ll be damned to hell if I let some Johnny-Bull piece of s*it parade on my rain. We’re alike, Charles.’

 

‘I agree. We’re both extinct—but she was different.’

 

‘Oh, I agree. Now, lets sort this out at some private venture. I have this yacht in Vice—‘

 

‘You’re drugs are gone. Tell El Burro, when you see him, that you’re failure led to his poverty.’

 

‘This isn’t really between us, anymore. Didn’t a well-informed man like yourself know?’ a laugh came from Miguel, in a limousine. ‘Gary Pittman is now the active leader of the Columbian’s in Liberty. Albeit, he sustained some terrible injuries. I’m sure that will only make him easier prey, pal?’

 

Benedict squinted wryly, ‘You wouldn’t.’

 

‘Wouldn’t I?’

 

He wiped his forehead, ‘You did.’

 

‘Of course! Now, I hate to leave you flat, but in two hours I will be far from your reach. Tell Celeste hello, for me.’

 

The phone went to a dead dial tone.

 

Benedict lowered the pistol to his side. He took a gasp of air. Then, in an instant, cleared the desk of Cocaine with one brush and flipped it over. He paced away from the wrecked table and thought over his options. The .45 at his side raised and sent a round to the roof.

 

Emilio was still in front of him. Terrified, he awaited his judgment.

 

‘So, what about me?’

 

Benedict scowled at him, ‘Emilio… are those bags by the tables Cocaine?’

 

‘Yeah. They are.’

 

‘Take them over to that corner and light it with a lighter or something. Burn all of it, understood? And don’t look back at me.’

 

‘Al—alright.’

 

Emilio hauled all three of the fifty-pound bags to the corner, were he unzipped them and cut the bags open. Behind him, he heard the speedboats start up and dart from the dock to the river. He simply closed his eyes and proceeded to douse the Coke with lighter fluid from a Ronson he cracked open. In mere minutes, the drugs were engulfed in flames and Emilio turned around to inform his captor of the success. Looking all around the room, there was nobody.

 

Emilio sighed a breath of relief. He would later scramble for a flight to Las Venturas.

 

 

*****

 

 

The Sentinel parked upon the edge of a steep cliff in Portland. Underneath the pinnacle, there was the black smoke of a torched dock and the ember that flew from it. As fire fighters struggled to put it out, the fire grew wilder from the massive quantities of petrol-fuel kept in the attic. The reporters said the fire department would wait for it to dissolve, after eating the entire structure.

 

Standing at the edge, looking down, Benedict felt the wind blow his tie and suit in the wind. It ripped back and fourth, as he stared at the orange sky dying down for the night. He took one last drag on the cigarette before flicking it off to the ground some miles below. He thought of where it would land. Then, pulling the cellular-phone from his suit, he dialed the number at the mansion.

 

The phone rang for a moment. Smoke slithered out from between his teeth, floating to the sky.

 

‘’Ello? ‘Ello?’

 

‘Put Garrison Pittman on.’

 

‘Who dis?’

 

‘Now!’

 

The woman went silent. A few seconds later, a voice came on and seemed to be in total pain.

 

‘Who is this?’ Pittman said stoically.

 

‘I’m the man who crashed the jet in Liberty. I’m the guy who just killed three of the Diablos pushers and destroyed their weekly shipment. I’m the man who is coming to bring you and Miguel to my level, the dead level. And, I’m the man who is extremely upset.’ Benedict listened to silence on the other end. ‘Now, where the f*ck is Miguel…?’

[9jkearse3]

Deadlash-$23 You could work on length, but your def getting better(poor kane keeps dying, I killed him off in my stories when I was with the ballas ) removed( if you want to rejoin dont hesitate

 

The Sicillian - $115

He sh*t himself as he died

as soon as I read that I immediately thought of south park

 

SloSenRacing-$31 cant wait to see what the hatains do in LS

 

GTA Gamer. -$12 I don’t quite understand are those supposed to be like journal entrys or what?

 

ThugLife™ Added

 

 

F-s-X -11$ not trying to pick on you or anything just pointing out some thing that may help you in the future

On the next morning I got up early and went out. It was a sunny day but not many people were up so early. I weream now the leader of the Da nang boys, finnaly but not all my problems were gone,the triads. I had decided to go to their territory and drive around andto(you don’t need to “Ands so close together) see what i could find out. I saw an elegy parked next to the street and of course it was open with the keys there, do people never learn. I wasn’t just going to drive around, I had a target, one of the most respected triads, Mr Yong. Before i left the hospital one of my homies(jus nit picking but I don’t think the Vietnamese say “homie ) told me he werewas going to meet some rifas. I parked outside his house and waited i always have hated chinatown and i always will, after 15 minutes he left with one triad. They got in a car and drove off and i started to follow them. I soon found myself in

Bayside marina, now i saw a house with a stallion parked outside and the triads got in, one rifa was standing outside guarding with a combat shotgun. It was still pretty hot even though it werewas getting late. I sneaked around the house and went to window suddenly i heard a shot, I looked through the window and saw two men coming in ,the men managed to shoot the triad before they got shoot by the rifas, they looked aslike mafia boys, now i saw that they were only two rifas there. I went to the front and took the dead guards shotgun and went back to the window “ he is dead”one of the rifas stood next to the dead triad. Then i got a perfect plan in my head. I got up and shoot one of the rifas in the arm, he fell down against the wall, i werewas going to let them think they were surronded. Mr Yong had taken cover under a table which was in the middle of the room. I ran around the house and got on the other side of the house to another window, the last rifa was looking at the first window so i shoot one shot but i missed and the rifa took cover by the table i ran to the door and shoot him right in the head then i took up Mr Yong and pushed him next to the rifa who still werewas still alive even though the shot in the arm. “What were you doing here?” i pointed my shotgun at Mr Yong. “Nothing, nothing”he had trouble finding the words. I went to the table and found a list of weapons.

‘”Ohh, so this is nothing” i showed the list to him. Suddenly i heard a car stopping outside.

I went to a window and looked out and i saw three triads with mp5’s coming out of the car, they saw me and started shooting, how the hell did they know what happend. It was dark outside and it was hard to see. I returned their fire and i manage to hit two of them but i couldnt see the third i now noticed that i was bleeding in my armmy arm was bleeding. Suddenly tha last one opened the door, i kicked him down and pointed my gun at him and i pulled the trigger...CLICK.

GeneralBBG(Leones) $16 not bad for the first story…the Grove street familys Vs. the Leone Family…I like it

 

The Sicillian - $85 I love that tic-tac addict Michael, adn i think i can help you in your conquest to take over the casinos check the very bottom of the first page

 

Forelli_boy- $65 sorry im not exactly familiar of your storyline so if the money isn’t what you used to get it will pick up once I catch up

 

D jones- added - $36

 

Professor-$105 what do I do with the money I know you have a private account but how much is in it?

 

Johnson467 added

 

I will update the front page soon

 

 

Edit: Updated

Edited March 5, 2005 by 9jkearse3

[Lochie_old]

Can i join Purple Nines,anything would be good.

[Lochie_old]

Can i join Purple Nines,anything would be good.

[F-s-X]

thanks kearse (that really helped) Im from Sweden/Finland so my English aint the best

[Gta Gamer.]

GTA Gamer. -$12 I don’t quite understand are those supposed to be like journal entrys or what?

 

 

Lol, some people have no sense of humour.

I might think about writing a serious piece later.

 

And for christ's sake, can people start getting my name right? It's just above my avatar in case people hadn't noticed.

[9jkearse3]

GTA Gamer. -$12 I don’t quite understand are those supposed to be like journal entrys or what?

 

 

Lol, some people have no sense of humour.

I might think about writing a serious piece later.

 

And for christ's sake, can people start getting my name right? It's just above my avatar in case people hadn't noticed.

lol well you didnt really give any indication that the story or whatever it was was a joke

 

*breathes a sigh of relief*

 

@ ~PhusioN~ added

 

[9jkearse3]

Welcome To Hell

 

 

There are certain times in life when one must ask themselves “what did I do to deserve this.” Sadly that question is never answered. It’s a harsh reality but one must learn to live with it. I had been laying on the ground clenching my shoulder for about 5 minutes when Marilyn walked in. she was Catalina’s cleaning lady who came on the weekends. She immediately ran to get some bandages and patched up my shoulder.

 

I slowly made my way to sit down on the coach where I slumped down and took a deep breath. Miguels words kept ringing in my head “He’s coming for you” they said. Suddenly the phone rang Marilyn stopped cleaning the chaos that was the living room and went to answer the phone. She came back from the kitchen and handed me the phone

 

“Who is this?” I asked

 

“I’m the man who crashed the jet in Liberty. I’m the guy who just killed three of the Diablos pushers and destroyed their weekly shipment. I’m the man who is coming to bring you and Miguel to my level, the dead level. And, I’m the man who is extremely upset.’ Benedict listened to silence on the other end. ‘Now, where the f*ck is Miguel…?”

 

“Look I’m having a really bad day so why don’t you just tell me who you are”

 

“I didn’t ask you how your day went, and who I am is no concern of yours…now why don’t you tell me where Miguel is”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine…the only thing I know about Miguel is that he is alive dangerous and was planning on overtaking the Columbian cartel before he graciously gave that position to me. Where he is know I have no knowledge of, so quit playing games with me and tell me your name.” I waited for a response from the man but ill I got was a dial tone. Little did I know at the time that playing games was the furthest from his mind.

 

“Hello…Goddamnitt!” I shouted as I threw the phone across the room with my good arm. I was in uncharted waters. I had never led a gang before and wasn’t even really sure what to do. My best idea was to get someone I could trust someone who knew things I didn’t. I mustered up enough strength to get up from my chair.

 

“Marilyn will you be ok here by yourself”

 

“Sure don’t wordy about me.” I gave her the best smile I could while bearing with the pain and headed outside bandaged shoulder and all. I got in my patriot and made way to the ammunation I was practicing at the other day.

 

I walked into the shooting range and saw just the guy I was looking for

 

“Hey man what happened to you” The man said

 

“I got shot…twice”

 

“How did that happen”

 

“Ugh long story...look I have a question to ask you”

 

“Sure” he said as he cocked his gun and aimed down the range at a target

 

“You said you were on the police force…how much do you know about the gangs her in liberty”

 

“Well lets see the Columbians have the biggest presence and a strong drug flow that everyone either wants a part of or wants to get rid of. The triads and diablos are small time the leones hate the triads. Just about everybody hates the cartel especially the Kenji the leader of the yakuza. Why do you wanna know this anyways” he asked as he shot the target hitting it just below the chin

 

“because I need to know who my enemies are…you are talking to the new leader of the Columbian cartel.” He looked at me as if I had two heads

 

“No sh*t?”

 

“No sh*t… Miguel left me the entire gang to lead. Listen I don’t know the first thing about some of the gangs or where they reside. Plus due to my current condition I cant exactly handle a piece I need a body guard so to speak.” The man stopped as if he didn’t know what I was asking him.

 

“Are you asking what I think you are” he asked me

 

“You bet your ass I am...i really could use your help I’m not exactly in a comfortable situation here.” He paused again this time to think

 

“Ok…you got yourself a bodyguard er..

 

“Gary, Gary Pittman”

 

“Well Gary you got yourself a body guard. Names Tim Flachke.” He said as he extended his hand

 

“thanks I appreciate it” I said as we shook hands

 

“I think its only fair I inform you of what going on though. You see im sure you have heard of Catalina well she disappeared two days ago and when I had found this out Miguel showed up, but when I showed him a ransom letter he started acting real strange and mentioned a name… Benedict have you ever heard of him”

 

“I can’t say I have”

 

“Well he said the name benedict, so after that encounter I went back today and that’s when the weird stuff happened. Miguel said he was going on a ‘vacation’ pulls out a gun shoots me tells me that I can run the gang if I live shoots me again and says ‘he is coming for you’ then he leaves. About 10 minutes later I get a phone call from some guy looking for Miguel then he hangs up before I get his name. I didn’t tell him where Miguel was because I don’t know where he is...exactly, and if anyone finds Miguel its gonna be me. My only clue is that he is working with the Diablo’s my only lead is the person Miguel was talking to and lucky for me it was a cell phone that Miguel so absently minded left on the table so all we have to do is press redial and find him.” I said as I pulled a cell phone from my pocket” Tim looked at me blankly

 

“I don’t think we should call just yet at least not till I recover. The last thing I want is to know where this guy is but not be able to do anything about it.” Tim hadn’t blinked since I started talking and still stared with that blank look in his eyes

 

“I know its a lot to swallow”

 

“Yes it’s a helluva lot but you no need to worry ive got your back.” He was right I didn’t have anything to worry about, but little did he know he had everything to worry about because he knew just as much as I did and by telling him all I knew I had basically handed him an invitation that said “Welcome To Hell”

Edited March 5, 2005 by 9jkearse3

[ThugLife™]

Russian Mafia - Grey Imports (Chapter I Part I)

 

A stretch limousine is parked at a traincrossing in Ocean Docks. It is a very long vehicle, chrome black in color with blacked out windows & a small soviet flag fluttering on the end of a stick attached to the cars bonnet. The train passes and the lights turn back to green & the car begins to creep slowly down the road. It turns into a huge warehouse compound and again slows to a halt while a guard checks the identities of the people in the limo before letting them in. The gate opens electronicly and the limo drives inside, pulling up alongside a set of stairs leading inside the building. All around workers are busy loading high class cars & motorcycles into the backs of lorrys scattered around the yard. The limo chauffeur gets out & rushes to the back of the car, opening the door for the passenger. Out steps a rather fat, old, grey-haired man, along with a tall, muscular man. Both are dressed in black suits. They make their way up the steps into the main warehouse building.

 

 

********************

A well-dressed man is now seen, aged around late 30's/early 40's. He sits in a huge leather armchair behind a solid oak desk smoking a cigar, watching intently through a one way window he has just had installed into his office, overlooking the work that is being done on the factory's main floor below, millions of dollars worth of cocaine being produced and packaged, then sent out in crates ready to be sold. He has classical music playing on a stereo in the background. Pavarotti. His peace is disturbed by a loud drumming on his door. "Enter!" he shouts angrily, as a little old man hobbles in wearing a blue jumpsuit. "Hello Mr.Sratkorich" the man stutters, in broken English. "What do you want Ivan, what is the problem?" the man behind the desk asks in a tired voice. "There is no problem." Ivan replies "It's just that Boris Abatrov is outside. He wants to speak to you sir." "What the hell does he want?!?!" the man behind the desk shouts, becoming slightly distressed, stumping his cigar out in an ivory ashtray. "He wants to speak to you". the little old man in the jump suit replies naively. "Ivan shut the f*ck up and go and tell Mr.Abatrov to come in".

 

 

********************

The door to Nikolai Sratkorich's office is flung open, and in strolls Boris Abatrov followed closely by his bodyguard. Nikolai stands up to greet him, they shake hands & hug in the manner that only the oldest of friends do. However, the mixed look of shock & horror on Nikolai's face would have you believe these 2 men were anything but friends. Nikolai slumps back into his leather chair, as Mr.Arbatrov helps himself to one of his Cuban cigars from a gold plated tin off the desk. "So, what brings you here after all these years?" Nikolai asks in a quiet tone. "I thought I'd come and say hello to an old friend of mine, see how business was coming along." Boris replies, a friendly grin spreading across his face. "No Boris, I know that isn't why you're here. You don't care about friends, all you care about is yourself and your drugs. So tell me the real reason, why are you here?" Nikolai says, getting noticably bolder all of a sudden.

 

Boris Abatrov leans back in the chair opposite Nikolai, smirking. The room is silent for a few seconds. "Ok, you want to know the real reason I am here, no bullsh*t, no small talk, Ok. You remember 10 years ago Nikolai, you remember being stuck in a cage, going to die in prison. You remember who got you out of that mess?" Boris shouted with an insulted look on his face. "Yes Boris, you got me out of that mess." Nikolai replied, going back to his timid mode of talking. "How about, 7 years ago you're going to be sent to prison yet again for multiple narcotics charges eh? You remember the day before you were supposed to be in court all of a sudden the evidence dissapeared along with all the witnesses? You remember who got you out of that mess?" Boris stated proudly. "Yes Boris, you got me out of that mess aswell." Nikolai seemed to have sunk into his chair. "and you say that all I care about is drugs & myself?" Boris asked, not actually expecting an answer.

 

"Boris, tell me, what do you want from me? I don't understand where you are going with this...." Nikolai asked in a quiet, worried voice. "Ok Nikolai, I'll tell you why I am here." Boris said in a much calmer voice than he had previously been speaking. "Do you remember what I have said to you after every time I've saved your life?" "No I don't remember, what did you say?" Nikolai asked, a confused look on his face. "You don't remember after everytime I've saved your life, when you have offered me all these things as a reward, and I turned them down, you don't remember the simple phrase that I've said to you countless times before?" Boris was beginning to look a little irritated. "Hmm. I don't remember all that well. Please tell me Boris, what is the phrase?" Nikolai still had no clue.

 

"Ok Nikolai, seeing as you don't understand what I'm trying to say, I'll tell you straight. I've saved your life how many times, around 6? Well everytime I saved your life I told you, don't worry about giving me material rewards, just be ready to save my life or get me out of trouble when I need your help. Well the time has come Nikolai, I need your help." A smile spread across Boris's face as he noticed that Nikolai finally realised what he was getting at. "Oh, ok what is it that is troubling you? Tell me and I'll see what I can do." Nikolai replied. "These f*cking Mexicans are trying to push in on my land. They've set up a cocaine lab in an apartment building North-East of Verona Beach and they're starting to take away my business! Last week alone 10 of my pushers where found shot or stabbed to death. That's 5% of my streetworkers dead!" a vein in Boris's neck pumped as he talked, he was clearly getting angry just by talking about this.

 

"That's not all though Nikolai. They're getting bolder by the day. They've now moved on to trying to steal my delivery trucks. I have to put an extra man in every delivery truck just to be safe! What's it going to be next, they will be trying to take over my factory? I can't handle that, they need to be exterminated before they get too strong!! My profits are falling rapidly Nikolai, I need your help." Nikolai produced a bottle of vodka & two glasses from one of the draws on his desk & poured both him & Boris a generous amount of the spirit in each glass. "Well Boris my old friend, I think the only way to eliminate this problem would be to find their drug lab and take it out. Then you're still going to have their pushers in your area, but once they're all dead that will be the end of them. They won't keep sending their people into the area if they aren't producing any drugs for them to sell." Nikolai stated in a now confident voice. "Exactly Nikolai, my idea is, 5 of my men & 5 of your men go into the building, destroy the cocaine lab. They could use either stealth or just go in there with all guns blazing as they will have the superior firepower, there is only ever usually 7 or 8 people in there not including the people producing the cocaine, and most of their gang only carry handguns." Boris stated in a drained voice. "Ok then, I'll go and get 5 of my best workers from downstairs." Nikolai replied before hurrying off into the factory.

[9jkearse3]

ThugLife-$27

[MI7]

kearse, you're being really erm...skimpy with the cash.

 

I mean, $105 to the Prof. for THAT!?!

 

And only $85 for Sicillian!

 

Give them more for their fabulous efforts!

 

 

[SloStenRacing]

Yeah come on dude $31 dollars for my half of what the sicillian did? Damn I even checked it for errors. It might not be up to their quality yet but it sure has the quantity for a lil bit more.

 

Wee bit off topic: I'll get around to the next one when I aint so f*cked up. I couldnt write part of a story if my life depended on it right now.

[9jkearse3]

kearse, you're being really erm...skimpy with the cash.

 

I mean, $105 to the Prof. for THAT!?!

 

And only $85 for Sicillian!

 

Give them more for their fabulous efforts!

what do you think is better if i give evryone lots of money for their storys or if im "skimpy" with the money. i mean the playing feild is even im not just being "skimpy" with them im doing it with everyone. it makes it more fun if they have to work for the things they buy if i just threw money around then everybody would be able to buy anything they want. sure thats the point of the game but its no fun if someone writes a paragraph and they get $60 for it.i dont hear them complaining but if you guys think i should be giving more money then i guess i will

 

@SloStenRacing lenght isnt everything

[Gta Gamer.]

Sex Club Seven – Prologue

 

The moon cast a beautiful light across a glistening Liberty City Bay. The lapping of waves against the dock walls combined with the squawking of seagulls to create a peaceful ambience. To an outsider Liberty could almost be considered a safe haven. To those who live and breathe the city, they know it’s a town filled with the stench of corruption.

 

James Cintelli stood by the dockside, watching the silhouette of a distant boat on the horizon. He dreamed of a place far away, away from the troubles of Liberty. Away from his friends, away from his job, his boss. James, or Jimmy to his friends, looked towards the roadside, at his waiting van. He’d come to Portland tonight for no real reason at all. No reason other than to be away from his hassles.

As he watched the road, three dark Sentinels pulled into the dock area and parked by an old warehouse. Six men departed the cars and went inside. Jimmy dropped his cigarette and watched the men inquisitively. Each was dressed impeccably in fine suits. They were obviously Mafioso, Jimmy thought. He looked up as the moon disappeared, making the surroundings quite dark.

He stepped on the glowing ashes of his cigarette and began a slow walk towards his van.

There was a shout and Jimmy turned quickly to inspect what the cause of the commotion was. James Cintelli, is me.

 

That night was a memorable one, and the reason I found myself working for the mob. The next part of the story was the one moment in my life that I’ve been terrified.

 

The shout had come from one of the Mafioso on the other side of the docks, and his pals were reaching into their jackets as two Belly-Up fish vans parked across the road. All hell broke lose as uzi and pistol fire sprayed across the road, shattering glass and clanging against metal.

I stood frozen on the spot, telling my legs to move, yet my legs weren’t listening. For what would have only been a short time the two parties battled it out, until the bodies of four Asians lay on the street, one still twitching. One of the men, the tallest, and most dominant strode across the road and fired two shots into the chest of the man still twitching. I finally mustered the balls to get moving, and made a quick dash for my car.

The tall man looked up suddenly, and shouted out to his friends to get me. I opened the door to my van and fumbled with my keys, trying to get them into the ignition. The Mafioso drew closer, and closer, until finally the engine started, and promptly I was dragged from the driver’s seat. One of the men hit me across the head and I fell to the ground. The tallest man approached.

 

“You shouldn’t have seen that. You didn’t see that,” he said.

 

As I looked up at him, I could hear my heart beating rapidly, then the moon came out from behind the clouds, the area was lit up again, and the man’s face disappeared into a silhouette.

 

“James? James Cintelli?” One of the other men asked.

 

I recognised the voice, and looked across at him. I immediately recognised him as a friend hadn’t seen since childhood, my best friend from our days in the suburbs.

 

“Johnny? Nice way for us to reunite,” I replied.

 

The man was Joey Leone, son of the Don of the Leone Family Mafia. He pushed the taller man aside and helped me up.

 

“I haven’t seen you in ages kid!” He said, pulling me into a hug.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I replied, taking note of him calling me “kid.”

“What’s this?” He asked in surprise, pointing at my van.

“It’s my job. Work for United Exports as a courier,” I answered.

“I can’t have this, you gotta come back to the club and have a few drinks with us. You can see my father, you haven’t seem him since we were kids!”

 

And so that’s how it happened, the Don took me under his wing, and from there I began the climb to becoming one of the most notorious men in mob history.

 

[MI7]

Much better Gta Gamer.!

[ThugLife™]

Russian Mafia - Grey Imports (Chapter I Part II)

 

Exactly 5 years ago to this day I was on my way to San Andreas, crammed into a steel box with no room to move along with 49 other people. An "Illegal import" from Russia, couldn't speak a single word of English & deemed pretty much useless by the San Andreas state authorities. Now look at me. Fluent in English, on wages of atleast $1000 per week, some weeks even as much as $2500, I have my own house, plus my work is much more exciting, and alot better than the average day job. How wrong the people back home were, telling me that moving to America for a job with the Russian mafia was a bad move to make. They knew very little, only of the stories made up by the newspapers, and rumours spread by people who'd only read about the American brand of the Russian mafia in comic books.

 

The place I work isn't that bad. We specialize in a number of different trades. Importing weapons & vehicles into San Andreas from different countries all around the world is the job we are best at, although there is also the mass production & distribution of a wide range of class A drugs. Then there is my personal favourite job that I get to do sometimes around here. Assasinations. Being based in a huge warehouse near the Los Santos airport & the docks isn't a bad thing either. The huge compound yard provides a good place & a lot of room for us to store the freshly imported cars & motorcycles, and inside the warehouse we use half of the space to store imported/stolen weapons, and the other half is used as the drugs lab. Upstairs are the offices. If you get called up there then you know you are either going to be promoted, maybe get a better job, or you have been selected to carry out an assasination or an attack on a rival gang.

 

********************

Today started off like any other day. I woke up around 7:30am, had a shower, got dressed and made my way down to the warehouse. When I arrived all of the usual characters where there, hard at work making drugs & preparing the imported vehicles for transportation. I walked over to the end of the line where I usually work and put on the special suit I have to wear when doing this type of work, along with the hairnet, safety glasses & facemask to protect me from any inhalation of drugs which could possibly cause a person to overdose in a place like this with all the different chemicals & "drug dust" floating around in the air. I made my way across to the drug lab head of staff. "Hey Mr. Chaikov, what's the target for today then?" I asked. "Good morning Vitali, today we have been asked to make 20kg's of cocaine. Between the 15 of us that should not be a hard task to complete. We may even be finished by midday." he replied, a happy look adourning his face. "Ok, that's not too bad. How much has been made so far?" I asked another question, "Exactly..............5kg's." Chaikov replied, reading from a clipboard. "I'll get straight to work then."

 

Now, when it comes to making drugs all of the people in this factory have been taught exactly what chemicals to mix, and the ideal amount of each you should use in order for the drug to have the best possible affect on the person who takes it, that is one of the first lessons learnt by a new member of the Russian mob. Well, over the years a drug makers work tends to get a little sloppy, and the quality of the drugs they make seems to slip, not mine though. I am what the rest call a perfectionist when it comes to drug making, that's why I've been handed the task of making 2 out of the 20kg's required to be made today. I get my perfect amounts of each of the 4 chemicals needed ready, each in a seperate pile on a large metal tray. I begin working, again trying my hardest to get the perfect amounts of each chemical into the mixture before crushing them and mashing them together, then adding a little more chemicals. I carry on this process for around 3 hours non-stop, making around 1.25kg's of cocaine in the process. I finally decide to take a rest, but no sooner have I removed my safety gear than Ivan Koller has came down from the offices to tell me and 4 other men that the man in charge of this whole "Grey Imports" operation Nikolai Sratkorich has a job for us to do, and wants to speak to us right away. We head up to his office.

 

When we arrive at Sratkorich's office, we are ushered in by his assistant Ivan. Inside the room are 3 men, 2 of whom are thought of as legends around these parts of the world. Nikolai Sratkorich, Boris Abatrov and a bodyguard. "Good morning" Mr.Sratkorich addresses all 5 of us at once. "Incase you are wondering why you 5 men have been called to my office, the thing is my friend here Mr.Abatrov has got a few minor problems back in his own territory, and I have agreed to lend him 5 of my best workers to help him get rid of this problem." All 5 of us nod in acceptance as Mr.Abatrov begins to speak "Basically, I have these irritating little Mexican bastards trying to force their way into my area, and I'm not going to let them do that. You 5 along with 5 of my men have been hand picked to carry out the task of destroying the Mexicans drugs lab, and putting an end to this 'pest'." He tips a glass of vodka down his throat before continuing "We have had men scouting the area where the drugs lab is located for the past couple of weeks now and we have a pretty good idea of how everything works, so basically you will just have to have a look at the plans and maps that my men have made, then go in there & destroy everything inside". "Is that clear?" Sratkorich asks. "Yes" the five of us say in unison. "Any questions?" Sratkorich asks another question. "No" we all reply. "Good, then we can get the job done as soon as possible."

[Gta Gamer.]

Much better Gta Gamer.!

You guys do realise I was gta_gamer_777 right?

Just so you know.

I'm a vet. Hardcore vet. Rock on. Wewt.

[MI7]

Much better Gta Gamer.!

You guys do realise I was gta_gamer_777 right?

Just so you know.

I'm a vet. Hardcore vet. Rock on. Wewt.

Of course. how'd ya get that name change dude?

[Gta Gamer.]

Much better Gta Gamer.!

You guys do realise I was gta_gamer_777 right?

Just so you know.

I'm a vet. Hardcore vet. Rock on. Wewt.

Of course. how'd ya get that name change dude?

Connections, and the name change thread. But 70% connections.

[MI7]

Much better Gta Gamer.!

You guys do realise I was gta_gamer_777 right?

Just so you know.

I'm a vet. Hardcore vet. Rock on. Wewt.

Of course. how'd ya get that name change dude?

Connections, and the name change thread. But 70% connections.

hmm. Well, seen as you did go through 2 accounts to do so I would suggest it was more like 50% connections and the rest was a figment of your own general actions.

[The Truth.]

Home Sweet Home

 

 

I arrived at Caligula’s Casino in the early hours of the morning. After a few hours in the chopper I finally saw the bright lights and tall buildings of Las Venturas up ahead. I saw Caligula’s Casino and landed on the Helipad, then went down to the main entrance. I had been thinking through the back-story of my new identity all the way to Las Venturas. I was now called Taylor, Mike Taylor, and I was 27 years old. I was looking to take over as manager at Caligula’s Casino, and I was going to arrange an interview. I entered the casino and strode over to the front desk.

“Hello, I’m here about the vacant manager’s position,” I told the woman sitting there,

“Ok, Name?” she enquired

“Taylor, Mike” I replied

“Take and seat and the chairman will be with you in a minute.” She said, kindly.

I sat down on one of the chairs and began to read a magazine. I no time at all, the chairman was with me, and we were discussing the position.

“Ok, what experience have you got then?” He asked me,

“I ran a betting shop in Montgomery, a small casino in Washington, and I have good experience and knowledge of management.” I replied, taking information from my made up life story.

“Sounds good, and when will you be able to start, that is, if we take you on board?” He asked,

“I could start at any time.” I said confidently.

“Ok, well, welcome aboard Mr. Taylor,” He said, “I hope you find your new job satisfying.”

“Thank you.” I replied, as I stood up. I then walked out the door and went house hunting.

 

 

***

 

I was surprised to find my old house up for sale, turned out no one wanted it because an escaped convict used to live there, and they might come back and start squatting or something. I put in an offer, and then went to a cheapo motel to stay the night, and then I could get started on work at the casino.

 

 

***

 

Next morning I had to tie up a load of loose ends. Johnny dead, so no fake money for me, but what about the casino heist? I’d have to ring up my burglars. I pulled the phone towards me and punched in the number for one of the burglars.

“Lance Negretti, Las Venturas’ top burglar/smuggler.” He said,

“Hello, it’s Truth.” I replied, “I was wondering if that heist on the four dragons is still going ahead?”

“Well it wasn’t when you got caught, it wasn’t when you escaped, but it could be now if you want it to.”

“Get right on it, I want $50,000 by Wednesday, 48 hours, Lance.” I commanded,

“I’m on it!” He said, and hung up the phone. I was back in Caligula’s, and back in the Crime World, back in the big league for a second run.

 

Edited March 5, 2005 by The Truth v2.0

[SloStenRacing]

 

@SloStenRacing length isnt everything

 

Don't you EVER let a girl tell you that again man

[The Professor]

At my count it is 2, 877. Factoring in what I've gotten as recently as last post. The point where I'm going in the story, I will probably need that money to re-supply my character with weaponry. And since I pretty much know what direction I'm going, it wil be pretty useless to have The Professor join a gang just to drop it later, anyhow.

 

But I promise to rid of all the money by the time I'm finished with this character. So if I can keep it together (fairly) for a while, I will see its used. Is that cool? You're the boss, so I'd respect whatever you've got planned for it.

 

EDIT: Could I buy and Alpha and an RPG-Launcher?

Edited March 5, 2005 by The Professor

[MI7]

At my count it is 2, 877. Factoring in what I've gotten as recently as last post. The point where I'm going in the story, I will probably need that money to re-supply my character with weaponry. And since I pretty much know what direction I'm going, it wil be pretty useless to have The Professor join a gang just to drop it later, anyhow.

 

But I promise to rid of all the money by the time I'm finished with this character. So if I can keep it together (fairly) for a while, I will see its used. Is that cool? You're the boss, so I'd respect whatever you've got planned for it.

 

EDIT: Could I buy and Alpha and an RPG-Launcher?

I wondered what you had been doing with your cash prof.....

 

PM me with purchases, like Kearse said.