Marshall Law

[ADJ]

Chapter 1 (Which I will think of a name for later)

 

 

The sun shone out over Los Santos as Marshall "Craven" Jackson lay in his bed, exhausted from the night before. He was notorious throughout the city, and even the rest of San Andreas, a man interested only in his own fate. His lawyer said he was a banker, but his true underworld identity was a bounty hunter, a mercenary. He lived under his own rules, he had his own complex way of life. He was a man who did what he wanted to do, and didn't let anyone get in his way. Nestled under his pillow was a loaded Tec 9 - He had his enemies. He had his allies to, working around the state had allowed him to make a few friends, as well as some serious money. He had a luxury home in the Vinewood Hills, two cars, a motorbike and even a helicopter.

 

In terms of family Craven was not so lucky. He had been married twice, not bad for someone in his early twenties. One wife had been killed and one had fled to Liberty City, fed up of his 'live on the edge' lifestyle. He could stop working and retire at 24 if he wanted, but he wasn't going to stop until the city was his. He held a powerful influence in Vinewood and he had associates in the mafia of Las Venturas and he had friends in the Grove Street Families of Ganton. He wasn't about to stop. With every new mission came a new opportunity, new friends, new enemies. It was a dangerous business; dangerous but profitable.

 

Craven groaned and turned over as his phone continued to ring. He grabbed a pillow and held it over his head and waited for it to stop, but finally gave in and crawled over the sheets to his bedside table.

 

“What?”

“Mr Jackson?”

“Who’s asking?”

“This is the Triads in San Fierro.”

“What time is it?”

“2 pm.” Craven groaned.

“What d’you want?”

“I may have some work for you. Come to the top of Missionary Hill in San Fierro in one hour”

 

The man hung up. Craven groaned again and sat up onto the edge of the bed, stretching his arms as he got up and walked over to the window in his boxer shorts. He pulled open the curtains and flinched at the unwelcome light. The view from his house in the Vinewood hills gave a perfect view of East Los Santos and he could he see to his right the bustle that was midday at the Mulholland Intersection. Craven looked at his watch. He had to meet the Triad Members at three, which left fifty-eight minutes to get across the state to Southern San Fierro. He pulled on his sat down on the bed and pulled on his socks, scratching his goatee.

 

Craven locked the front door behind him and pulled on his trench coat as he turned left to his garage, which opened to reveal a PCJ-600 and a black Elegant. He got into the Elegant and turned on the radio, switching the station to Radio Los Santos; then started the engine and began to head West to the Panopticon and then Missionary Hill.

 

It was a blazing hot summer day on top of the hill, and the view over San Fierro was obscured by the brilliant light, not that it made it any less impressive. It was 2:58 when Craven rolled around the final bend to the car park. Waiting there was a black car and three Triad Members, two of which were carrying weapons. Craven half-heartedly parked and walked over to them. One of them, brandishing an envelope and wearing dark glasses, signalled the others to come forward with him.

 

"Marshall Jackson?” he asked.

“Call me Craven.” Craven replied. “And you are?”

“Wu Zi Mu.” He replied. “Call me Woozie.”

“You said you had some work for me?”

“Yes. It’s all in here” Woozie passed over the envelope and Craven put it in his pocket.

“Where can I find you?”

“Chinatown, just north of here”

“Aiight, it looks like we have a deal. I’ll find you if there are any problems”

“Very good.” Both parties turned around and returned to their vehicles. As the Triads drove off,

Craven turned down the radio, got in and opened the envelope. There was a sheet and a photograph of a man in a suit, who looked to be about sixty. The name on the back read ‘Tony Mendez’. Craven put the photo back in the envelope and opened the folded sheet. The sheet said “This man has been disrupting our business practices and we would like him to be eliminated. He can be found in Las Venturas”. Craven was pleased with the Triads’ helpfulness. They had provided a name and a photo.

 

Now all that Craven needed was an opportunity.

 

 

Please tell me what you think of this and provide some constructive criticism so that I can make the next chapters better!

Edited April 27, 2005 by ADJ

[Reactor.]

It gets along at a fairly fast pace. I'd like to see more description, just what the characters and environments look, feel, smell, etc. like.

[Jamie O'Dea]

Yeah, what the other guy said. Description is utterly essential for setting the scene. It helps add length to the chapter and make it more interesting to read because it helps you picture the scene in your head.

 

Try for 1,000 words per chapter. That's my advice. I'd like to see more of this, as it looks like it has a fair bit of potential. And you don't really need to have chapter titles - it kills me sometimes and they don't really add to the story, because chapters are just seperate segments of a story.

[ADJ]

Alright, I'll get on it - thanks for the tips.