The Made Man

[GingerSkullpion]

nice story so far have to catloafs on me, keep the chapters coming.

[Serafim]

Yay, a star! . Now people will see it's good.

[Sinful]

LOL

It's funny how you just CAN'T keep a star 'round here...

 

I'll be traveling tomorrow and I'll be back sometime next week

[Sinful]

Chapter V - War

 

 

-We’re at war! -said Joe Falcone, the Soldato, running inside Salvatore Leone’s office.

-What? War? -asked Salvatore.

-Yes! There’s like twenty guys out there, shooting all of us!

-Who? -asked Toni Cipriani, getting up from his chair.

-I dunno! One of them yelled something about Carl Johnson, but there’s some Chineses there!

-Chineses?! -said the Don. -And why aren’t they dead yet?

-Don Leone, I’m sorry, but our guys dying out there! -said Falcone. -We’re all using 9MMs, the guys are using like Uzis! We don’t stand a chance, Mr. Leone!

-Don’t stand a chance? Grab some f*ckin’ guns down at the basement. -said Salvatore. -Show these pezzonovantes who’s the man here!

-Alright, Mr. Leone, you won’t be disappointed! -said Joe, leaving the room.

-War? -asked Toni, looking at Salvatore. -What are you gonna do?

-Me? Nothing. You? You’re getting me outta here, let’s go.

-Where?

-Just follow me. -said Don Leone, running outside the room.

They left the house, and the limo was still there.

-A limo? -asked Toni, while Salvatore was getting in the backseat of his black limousine.

-It’s bulletproof. C’mon kid, do something useful and get us outta here!

-Alright, Don Leone. -said Toni, getting in the car and turning it on.

 

-sh*t! -yelled Carl Johnson, a few seconds after get shot right in the body armor. -C’mon, Ice, we better get some cover!

-Aight, homie, go on, I’ll catch you up! -said D-Ice, shooting a Leone thug all over the chest.

Carl ran to D-Ice’s red limousine, taking more ammunition and taking another body armor.

-Hey D! -he said. -This sh*t’s bulletproof?

-Yeah, why? -yelled Ice, running towards the limo.

-‘Cause we’re gonna need it! -said Carl, getting in the driver’s seat of the car and turning it on.

-CJ, what the f*ck? You bailing?

-No, wait up! -said Carl, making a roadblock to the Hoodz and Triad gang members protect themselves. He got out of the car and crouched behind it. -Hey ya’ll, come here!

All the gang members hid behind the limo, protecting themselves from the Leones’ incoming fire.

-They’re not going to last much! -said Tsui Hark.

-I know! We’re kicking ass here! -said D-Ice, reloading his M4 and shooting a Leone thug in the head. -Haha!

-I don’t care ‘bout these sh*theads! I want Salvatore! -said Carl.

-Well I think your wish was attended! -said D-Ice.

-What? -a black Sentinel, with dark mirrored windows, was driving out of Salvatore’s house. -sh*t! Shoot him!

-f*ck yeah! -said D-Ice. All of the Hoodz gang members started shooting the black Sentinel. -What the f*ck? Is that bulletproof?

-Looks like you’re not the only one! -said Carl. -You got anything tougher than these? -he pointed at his own M4.

-Hell yeah! -said D-Ice, getting inside the limo. He picked up a green rectangle shaped steel box. -R-P-G, biatch!

-We gotta get him! -said Carl, getting in the red limousine. -C’mon, you drive!

The two gang leaders got in the limo, Carl opening the green box. He picked the rocket launcher from inside it. -Holy f*ck! I only used this sh*t once!

-When? -said Ice, turning the red limo on and driving towards the black Sentinel.

-Blowing up a police chopper!

-sh*t, no wonder why everyone hates you! Haha…

-Alright, shut up, let’s blow this f*ck.

Carl got his torso out of the passenger’s seat window, holding the rocket launcher in the top of the car.

-Aight, one, two, mothaf*ckin’ three!

The black Sentinel blew up, it’s parts flying all over the street. Salvatore Leone was dead.

 

Toni Cipriani got inside the black limousine’s driver seat and turned it on.

-Mr. Leone, I got an idea, would you wait here?

-This better be good, kid. Go.

Toni left the car. A group of four thugs were grabbing guns from the house’s garage.

-Hey you! -he said. -What’s your name?

-Alonzo Boccino. Who are you?

-You’re gonna do us a job. You wanna save the Don?

-Hell yeah!

-Alright, here’s what you gonna do: take that car over there, it’s bulletproof, so don’t worry about a thing. Drive outta here, the guys out there are gonna follow you.

-You sending me to death?! f*ck you!

-No, dumbass. You’re gonna be a bait, all you gotta do is make’em follow you outta here, so the Don can leave.

-sh*t, I dunno…

-C’mon, don’t be a pussy! It’s bulletproof.

-I know… But what if they got grenades or sumthin’?

-Then you’ll have to bail. Now go!

-And why the f*ck am I listening to you? You’re not even a Soldato!

-Listen, if you wanna be made, do what I’m telling you. Mr. Leone is at the limo there.

-Made? For real?

-Yeah. And stop talking like a ghetto gang banger.

-Ok, I’m sorry.

Alonzo walked to the Sentinel and turned it on. A made man. That’s what he was going to be after that job was done. He smiled and drove out of the house.

 

-Is he really dead? -asked D-Ice, driving out of the street where the black Sentinel blew up.

-You think anyone would survive THAT? -said Carl, sitting back in the car.

-Guess not. So, what are you gonna do now?

-I dunno. I mean, I never thought it was so easy… I think I’ll get back to San Andreas.

-Real? Stay here for a while, dude.

-But what ‘bout the cops?

-What cops? They’re proly gonna blame some other mob.

-Guess you’re right. I better give a call to my sis, she must be worried ‘bout me.

-Oh, I get it. So she’s the momma now? -said D-Ice, laughing.

-Aw, shut up, man… Haha… -when he was reaching the phone, it rang. -CJ here.

-Carl? It’s Kendl. Are you all right?

-Oh, I’m fine, Kendl.

-So, how’d it go? Do the japs helped you out?

-Yeah, yeah, for sure. -said Carl.

-When are you coming back?

-I dunno, I think I’ll stay here for a few days, hang out with my homie Ice.

-Ice? Who the f*ck’s Ice?

-Aw, long story, sis. Kisses, see ya.

-See ya, bro.

 

-Hell yeah! -said D-Ice, getting inside the limo. -R-P-G, biatch!

-We gotta get him! -said Carl, getting in the red limousine. -C’mon, you drive!

-Oh, great, they’re leaving us. -said Tsui, in Chinese.

-Don’t you think we should go with them? -asked one of the Triad gang members.

-Why? We weren’t even supposed to be here! Let’s leave! -said Tsui. All the Triad members ran back to their Kuruma, leaving the Hoodz gangsters in the shootout.

-Hey, get back here you moron! -yelled one of the Hoodz gangsters. Tsui didn’t even look back.

 

-Hey, Snoopy! -said Terrence, one of the Hoodz gang members, after killing two mobsters with bullets in their faces.

-What? -asked the other gang member, known as Snoopy.

-What the f*ck these guys are talking? -said Terrence, pointing at the group of Triad members talking to each other. -Is that Chinese?

-No, it’s Portuguese. -said Snoopy, with an ironic tone. -Of course it’s Chinese, dumbass.

-How would I know? I don’t speak Chinese! Or Portuguese.

-They’re TRIADS. They’re Chinese!

-Whatever. Hey, they’re bailing out!

-What the f*ck? -said Snoopy, looking at the Triad members running out of the shootout, getting in their Kurumas. -Hey, get back here you moron!

-sh*t! -said Terrence, shooting more mobsters. -Looks like it’s just us! -he said, looking at Snoopy.

Snoopy was falling on the floor, with a single bullet craved between his brown eyes, wide-open. Terrence got up from the limo, running to the mobsters, shooting everywhere.

-DIE, MOTHERf*ckERS, DIE!

He fell dead, dozens of bullets in the torso and head, two seconds after finishing his sentence.

 

-Hey, check this out! -said the Leone Soldato, Vincenzo Cilli.

-What, Vinnie? -asked one of the newest Leone associates, Mickey.

Vincenzo threw Mickey a sniper rifle.

-Whoa! Now THAT’S cool. -Mickey said, grabbing the rifle.

-C’mon, let’s try it out! -said Cilli, grabbing an M60 machine gun from a wall and running outside the garage.

Three black Sentinels were parked in a line in front of Salvatore’s house, making their own roadblock. Many associates and Soldatos were shooting the Hoodz and Triad gangsters. Cilli and Mickey crouched behind one of the Sentinels.

-Hey, check that out. -said Cilli, pointing at a group of Triad gangsters running out of the shootout. -They’re bailing out! Things just got easier.

-f*ck yeah! Now lemme try it out. -said Mickey, mounting the sniper rifle in the hood of the car and aiming at one of the Hoodz gangsters. He fired it, and the bullet hit the enemy in the head.

-Whoa, nice shot! -said Cilli.

-Thanks! Hey, what’s that guy doin’? -said Mickey, pointing at one of the Hoodz gangsters who was running from his roadblock, shooting everywhere.

-I dunno!

-DIE, MOTHERf*ckERS, DIE! -the Hoodz gangster yelled.

-Haha, he’s f*ckin’ nuts. -said Cilli. -Lemme try mine out. -he mounted the M60 in the top of the car and shot all over the enemy’s body, killing him instantly. -Whoa, I like it! Hey, the boss’ limo’s getting out, let’s cover him!

 

Berkeley, one of the Hoodz gang members, had just watched the death of two of his friends, Terrence and Snoopy. A black limousine was leaving the house.

-What the f*ck? A limo? sh*t! -he said, grabbing his cell phone and calling D-Ice. -Hey, D? It’s Berkeley!

-Hey, wassup, B?

-Death, dude, and blood.

-What?!

-Terrence and Snoopy are dead. But that’s not the worst part.

-Then what is it?

-A black limo just left the building.

 

-Then what is it? -asked D-Ice to the Hoodz thug on the phone.

-What happened? -asked Carl. Ice looked worried.

-Ok. -said Ice, turning the phone off. -You won’t believe it.

-What?

-Salvatore’s alive.

 

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

Traveling chap, lol.

Wrote it on the road... Like anybody cares.

Hope ya'll like it.

Edited January 16, 2007 by Sinful

[Serafim]

Nice chapter Sinful! It was just a bit messy, too much side of views

[Rashon.]

Great story so far, Sinful.

 

Rated Good

[Sinful]

Alright, chap 6 is done.

I'll just wait a few more comments and, as soon as get the comments and my dad's notebook (where the file is), I'll post it.

Good to know you're liking it.

[Brutuz]

Seems pretty good, Have you got chapter 6 yet?

[Sinful]

Chapter VI - Infamita

 

 

-Hey, Mr. Leone. -said Antonio Cipriani, getting back to the bulletproof black limousine.

-Where were you? -said Salvatore. -You trying to get me killed?!

-No, boss, I was just saving your life. I sent a bait to them. -Antonio said, turning the car on.

-Bait?

-They’re proly far away now, let’s go.

Cipriani quickly drove the car through the dirt path leading to the streets of Saint Marks. Lots of bodies -from Leones and Hoodz gang members, none from Triad members- were lying dead on the ground. There were only two Hoodz members alive. Salvatore was looking at the dead Leone associates on the ground.

-A shame, really. -he said. -Sometimes I wonder why I’m doing this.

-You’re helping them, Mr. Leone. They died protecting our family.

-Tell that to their mothers.

The limousine drove through the building that years later would become the Sindacco controlled bordello and casino, the “Doll’s House”.

-Don Leone, we’ve been hanging around for a while now… Where should we go?

-Stauton Island. -he said. Although he didn’t have any idea where they should go or do at the moment, the Don could never possibly show any weakness or doubt to one of his employees.

-Where in Stauton?

Salvatore said the name of a random street that came up on his mind, probably one of the organization’s safe houses.

The limousine drove in front of the Belleville Park. It was almost night, the sun was setting, and many people were jogging around the park.

-By the way, Antonio, what happened to that other kid?

-Well, Don Leone. -Antonio said, the voice demonstrating a tone of worry. -He should have called me after he escaped the attackers… He didn’t call, so… I’m sorry, but I think he’s dead.

-Figures.

 

Earlier that day, at the garden of Salvatore Leone’s house, Saint Mark’s, Portland, Liberty City

 

-Listen, if you wanna be made, do what I’m telling you. -said the guy in the suit, pointing at a black limo parked in the dirt path. -Mr. Leone is at the limo there.

-Made? -Alonzo Boccino asked. -For real?

-Yeah. And stop talking like a ghetto gang banger.

-Ok, I’m sorry.

Alonzo walked to the Sentinel and turned it on. A made man. That’s what he was going to be after that job was done. He smiled and drove out of the house. Three Sentinels were making the Leone’s roadblock in the shootout. Triad and Hoodz gang members were shooting in the other side. Alonzo wondered why the Triad was helping that bunch of ghetto gangsters. It didn’t matter. All he had to do was get out, pretend to be Salvatore, lead the shooters to somewhere else, and stay alive. Stay alive… The toughest part. But he would handle it, after all, he was a Leone associate. He looked at some Leone associates’ bodies on the ground. Maybe he wouldn’t handle it. At least he would try. He turned the radio on. Ironically, “Staying Alive”, by the Bee Gees, was playing on Flashback FM. He tuned the radio to Double Clef.

Two attackers, one wearing a white suit and the other wearing some random football team t-shirt and loads of giant necklaces, gave up shooting the bulletproof car -the guy in the suit was telling the truth!- and got in the red limousine, beginning to chase Alonzo. He sped up all the way down Saint Mark’s, enjoying the speed of the custom Sentinel. The enemies were aside Alonzo’s car. One of them got his torso out of the passenger’s seat window, holding some kind of green and silver cylinder. A machine gun? No. A rocket launcher? As far as Alonzo knew, bulletproof cars blew up when hit by missiles. He opened the door and jumped out of the car, rolling. The black Sentinel blew up, it’s pieces flying everywhere, and the red limousine quickly left the street.

A month later, after a long talking with his mother, Alonzo, the Leone associate, moved to Vice City, working at a custom bikes shop controlled by a guy named Mitch Baker. No one from the mob ever heard from him since then.

 

-Salvatore’s alive. -D-Ice said, with a worried tone in the voice.

-What? But… How the f*ck? -Carl Johnson asked.

-We blew up a bait. A cover. A scam. They fooled us, CJ. -said Ice, driving back to Salvatore’s house.

-Aw, f*ck!

-A black limo just left the place. Now, who else would get outta there with a bulletproof limo but the mob boss?

-Not me. Let’s get back there, maybe we can get’em.

-I don’t think we’ll get’em, but still…

The red limousine parked in front of the house. The Leone barricade, built by the three black Sentinels, was still there, although the cars were heavily damaged by bullets. The same thing happened to the two black Sultans from the Hoodz roadblock. No one else was shooting there, and the place was frighteningly quiet. Dozens of bodies from Hoodz and Leone gang members were dead, and there was blood everywhere.

-I’m sorry. -said Carl.

-Sorry for what?

-For this. I should’ve never got you into this. Look, if you wanna jump out, I’ll understand.

-No. -said D-Ice, looking at the close body of the gangster Snoopy. -But it’s not for you. Now it’s personal.

 

Salvatore was right, the address was from one of their safe houses. Actually the house of the Leone caporegime, Sergio Lampone.

Lampone was fat. Fat in a way Salvatore would never be. He was watching “Barzini’s Cooking Tips” on a small 14 inches TV, while taking ingredients from a rusty green fridge.

Antonio knocked on the door, and in a few seconds, Lampone, wearing a green jacket and brown cotton pants, answered the door, holding a wood spoon full of red sauce. He looked at Cipriani and said:

-Who are you, and what do you want here?

Toni was a new associate, introduced by his mother to Salvatore. After the death of his father, he always attempted to join the Leone family and keep the Cipriani tradition. He worked directly for the Don as a personal bodyguard until the day he left Liberty City to go to Las Venturas. As a personal bodyguard for Salvatore, he was hardly recognized -by his name or face- by anyone else on the organization.

Salvatore walked to meet Lampone. They both hugged each other, kissing their cheeks.

-Sal! How are you? -said Lampone.

-Alive! -said the Don, laughing.

-That’s good enough for me! C’mon, get in.

Antonio and Salvatore got in the small but clean house, sitting on a white leather couch, with a red sauce stain on it.

-Cooking? -asked Salvatore, pointing at the wood spoon.

-What? Oh, this. Nah, just trying. -said Lampone, throwing the spoon at the kitchen’s sink and turning the television off. -If you wanna eat, you better go to a restaurant! -he said, laughing, and taking a small tissue to clean the sauce stain from the couch. -And who’s this thin little man?

-I am Toni-- -started Cipriani, being interrupted by Salvatore.

-He’s one of my bodyguards, Antonio.

-Always surrounded by gorillas, eh?

-Have to.

-Anyway, what brings you here? Unless, of course, which I doubt, that you’re here just to eat my bad food and laugh of my even worse jokes! Hahaha!

-No, no… -said the Don, laughing. -As always, I’m here on business, my dear friend. Sit down, please. -he said, like he owned the house. In theory he did, as the Don, so Lampone didn’t mind, and sat down. -I’m afraid to say that we are at war.

-War? -said Rocco, with no tone of joke on his voice. If the Don wanted to talk business, then they would talk business. He looked at Cipriani, and then to Salvatore.

-He can stay. He’s involved to death now. Hell, I think he’s the reason we’re having this conversation! The only reason he’s still alive is ‘cause of his momma! Hahaha! -which was not true. Salvatore would never kill Antonio, even though he failed once. The Leone family didn’t have many good men at the time, and Cipriani would be a big loss. -Anyway, about the war.

-Yea, yea… I thought we were in peace with the other families. Although I didn’t like the look of Mike Lips at that meeting… It was the Forellis, wasn’t it?

-I’m proud to say that none of us, uomini d’onore, did this. You remember that meeting, many years ago, when we settled that Las Venturas was a free territory, where any family could do their profit and build their casinos? -asked Salvatore. Although the tradition between the Cosa Nostra was that only Dons and Consiglieres could show up at the Meetings, a few families frequently broke that rule, often bringing Capos with them. In the case of the Leones, the lack of an actual Consigliere was the reason.

-Yes, I do.

-So, you remember I went to Las Venturas, take care of our businesses there, the Caligula’s. -said Salvatore. He didn’t wait an answer and kept talking. -Everything was fine, everything was great, in fact. Until the day the stinking “Triad” started to move from that town full of freaks, San Fierro, to Venturas, start a place there. We; the families; kept our eyes on those Chineses, watching each step of them, hell, we even tried to take’em out! There was this kid, Carl Johnson. He came from outta nowhere, started to do some jobs for me. He even came here to Liberty, did that little mess over at the Mark’s Bistro.

-I heard about that.

-Yes, so… -continued Salvatore. He hated to be interrupted. -He did these little things for me, and I paid him well, yeah… Then I found out he was a f*ckin’ Triad!

-Wait a minute, Sal. A Chinese named Carl Johnson?

-sh*t, I dunno what the hell is his connection with those Chineses. What I do know is that he was involved with their leader there, and all the jobs he did for me were just a cover to his actual purpose. -he made a break, like waiting Lampone to say something. -Steal the Caligula’s.

-What?!

-That’s right, steal it. He and the Triads fooled us, took all my money from that sh*t… I think I’ll have to sell that junk. Anyway. The thing is: as you know, I couldn’t let him walk away with that. That’s when I got back here to Liberty and called our friend here, Antonio Cipriani. -Salvatore said, pointing at Toni. -I told him to go there, get the thief, and make him give the money back. A simple job, isn’t it?

-Yeah, right… -said Lampone, with an ironic tone. It seemed obvious that kidnap a Triad associate and make him get stolen money from a casino back didn’t sound that easy.

-He failed, sadly. At least he had an insurance, which he burnt as soon as the thief escaped.

-Insurance? I’m not following you, Sal.

-When he got the thief, he also got his brother, some ghetto banger. Anyway. -said Salvatore, using the word by the third time. -The thief got mad and all, and started a vendetta. A vendetta! Against who? Me! By who? A stupid ghetto boy. Then he got in Liberty, and started a massacre, aside with some more Triad and Shoreside gang bangers. Bodies all over the street, innocent lives finished. Una infamita.

-I’m sorry, Sal, but… That doesn’t sound too complicated for me. -said Lampone, one of the last remaining old school Caporegimes. -Can’t you just call a hit on the kid? I mean, he may be tough, but Sal; if he has a heart beating, he can be killed.

-I wish everything was like the old days, Sergio.

Edited January 17, 2007 by Sinful

[Brutuz]

Pretty good!

 

I think this story is going to go places....

[Serafim]

Nice chapter, Sinful! Hope you recover the star

[Archaon, Lord of End Times]

Nice work, man. Loving it so far.

[aaronlindu]

Pretty good Sinful!!

nice chapters

[Serafim]

Yay, the star is back!

 

Hope it takes longer now

[Blackadder.]

Yeh, a star! Congratulations!

 

Rated good

 

Serafim: I rated it up, so the star will probably stay

 

For awhile atleast

[Sinful]

Ok, I'm at my school's PC, and it's slow as hell, so I'll just make a quick note.

 

1- This is story is not dead.

2- I just moved into another house.

3- I still don't have internet @ home.

4- I'll continue posting everywhere (@serafim- tell ppl in o2, please?) as soon as I got my internet back.

5- Just checked The Tarkers topic. It rules.

6- I like strawberry.

7- Well, not really, I only like strawberry icecream, but whatever.

8- See you.

[TonyZimmzy]

Hope you return soon, bro.

[Crip_Killah]

I like where this story is going man. Rated Good.

[Rashon.]

Can't wait for the next chapter.

[Sinful]

Chapter VII – What about Joey?

 

 

Cedar Grove, Shoreside Vale, Liberty City

 

Carl Johnson was sitting on a beach chair in front of D-Ice’s Mansion and drinking beer. It was nearly midnight, and there was hardly anyone on the street despite a few Hoodz gang members talking to each other, drinking beers, and showing their hydraulics from their cars.

-sh*t. -said Carl. -I can’t believe it! I mean, I thought we had him! And then…

-Yeah. -said D-Ice, who was sitting aside Johnson. They were both staring at nothing.

-You know, it’s weird.

-What?

-You know, Hoodz and the Leones. You were never enemies.

-‘til now…

-Remember Joey?

-Joey?

-Yeah, Joey Leone. Salvatore’s son.

-Yeh, what ‘bout him?

-Remember I used to do some jobs with him?

-So what?

-I dunno, just popped on my mind. It’s weird I worked with him back then, and now I’m trying to kill his pop.

-Well, his pop killed your bro. You’re just trying to settle the score, no big deal.

-It’s weird you talk like that, too. You lost a lot of homies there, and you don’t say a thing about it.

-One thing you gotta learn: in this job, you gotta let things go.

-Guess so.

 

Sergio Lampone’s house, Stauton Island

 

-So, Sal, what are you planning to do? -asked Sergio Lampone, the caporegime, while changing his green jacket to a black tweed one.

-Kill him, of--

-No! Not about the thief. I mean about the coffee. I said ya, their coffee ain’t that good.

-Oh. I’ll drink water, instead. -said Salvatore. Antonio Cipriani, the bodyguard, was on the door outside the house, waiting for his boss and the capo.

The two Mafiosi left the house, walking downstairs. Snowflakes were beginning to fall.

-Oh, great. -said the Don. -Snow. What next?

-Bad coffee! -said the caporegime, wearing his black hat and laughing.

-You sure it’s open now?

-Yeah, yeah… And if it’s not, I’ll open it myself! -said Sergio, showing a pair of keys, one of them from the cafe.

-Mr. Leone, you want me to get you an umbrella or something? -asked Toni.

-Umbrella? What do you think I’m made of? Sugar? C’mon, let’s get to the limo.

Antonio was walking to the black limo when Sergio said:

-Limo? Are you mad? They’ll be looking for a black limo. Let’s get to my car.

A rusty yellow Perennial was parked in front of the house.

-Is THAT your car? -asked Antonio.

-What? -said Sergio. -Oh. No! -he walked to a dark blue Admiral across the street. -I’ll drive!

-Oh, no… He’s such a bad driver. -said Salvatore.

The trio got in the car, and the capo turned it on.

-Oh, by the way, how’s Joey? -he asked.

-Oh, he’s still in Vice. Bet he doesn’t even know what’s going on here.

-Shouldn’t you call him?

-So he can whine about how I’m trying to kill his little friend?

-What?! -said Sergio, almost hitting a lamppost.

-Watch out! This isn’t a game. -said Salvatore. -He and Johnson did a few jobs in Portland back in the eighties.

-Wait. Your son and the thief worked together? -said Sergio, touching the fender on a lamppost while looking at the backseat.

-All right! -yelled Salvatore. -Stop the car, let him drive!

-What? Just ‘cause I hit a lamppost? Aw… -said Sergio, leaving the car and running to the backseat. Antonio jumped from the passenger’s seat to the driver’s.

-Where were we? -said Salvatore.

-Joey, thief, friends, working.

-Oh, yeah. They did a few jobs a few years ago, nothing serious.

-Nothing serious? My godson and the enemy are friends! -said Sergio. -Stop by there kid. -he pointed at the coffee shop.

-Who do you think he’d stand up for? -said Salvatore while Antonio parked the car in front of the coffee shop. -Me or the thief?

-I dunno. -Sergio said, leaving the car. -Not when we’re talking about Joey.

 

Administration Room, Malibu Club, Vice Point, Vice City

 

Joey Leone was lying on his brand new red bed, with red silk sheets and pink pillows. A blonde woman in the thirties, wearing only blue panties and with incredibly big tits, was making a sexy dance at the sound of “Push it to the Limit”, by Paul Engemann.

-Yeah, baby, dance… -said Joey, in trance, looking at her naked body. She was beginning to take out the panties when the phone ringed. -Aw, sh*t! Not this again… -he grabbed the cell phone and looked at the unknown number. He answered it, and there were loud non-understandable voices in the background.

-Who is it?

-Joey? -said the voice from an old man.

-Dad?

-Joey! How are you?

-What do you want, dad?

-I’m just call--

-Look, dad, if you’re trying to get me into one of your armies, you can give up. I said you ain’t gonna be a gang banger.

-Watch your mouth, kid!

-Kid? Is that it? You call me after months to call me a kid? Look, dad, I’m running things around here, all right? I’m the boss now.

-Boss? Is that what you think?

-Yeah, that’s right, the boss. I OWN this town, now.

-Own? You’ve been there for a year or so and you think you own the town? You little bastard.

The dancer -actually the bartender from the club- was putting her clothes back on. Joey Leone waved indicating that she should leave the room.

-Look, Don. -he said, with a strong ironic tone on the voice when he called his father “Don”. -I’m not one of your doggies. You can’t just call me after a year and treat me this way.

-Carl Johnson. -the Don finally said.

-Carl… What?

-Yeah, you heard it.

-What about him?

-He’s trying to f*cking kill me, that’s what.

-Carl? Why would he do that?

-Look, Joey. A lot of things happened since you left Liberty. Carl went back to his gangster friends in San Andreas, robbed my casino…

-What? Carl ripped you off?

-Stop asking the obvious! He robbed me, yes. A double-crossing piece of sh*t, that’s what he is. He worked for me there! And then-- BANG! He took all my money from the Caligula’s.

-Oh sh*t… What’d you do to him?

-ME? You’re saying I did something? He’s the son of a bitch!

-Dad, Carl wouldn’t do that without a reason.

-Oh, he’s got a reason. He’s working with the stinking Triads!

-Carl? The Triads? What are you talking about?

-Don’t make me say it twice!

-Why are telling me this?

-I don’t know! I just thought you’d like to know that your little friend is trying to kill your father, but I think I was wrong!

-Sorry, pop. I didn’t mean it. I… I’ll be there, alright?

-Good.

Salvatore turned the phone off.

So Carl was trying to kill his father. Carl, the same kid who he worked with ages ago, the kid he thought was a friend. Even then, he couldn’t just get back to Liberty, get back to the crime, to his father’s wings. He made a choice when he moved to Vice City: that he would leave crime, be a legit businessman, and keep himself strictly away from his father’s business.

-Aw, f*ck it. -he said, leaving his recently bought nightclub and getting in his red 86’ Infernus.

 

Two days later, Salvatore Leone and Toni Cipriani were sleeping on Sergio Lampone’s house -Salvatore on the bedroom, Lampone on the couch and Toni on the floor.

-It’s hierarchy, son! -Sergio said when picking the couch to sleep.

It was 6AM when someone knocked on the door. Toni, who barely could sleep all the night long because of Lampone’s noises, got up to answer the door.

-Who’s there? -he asked when getting up.

-I called my dad and he told me to get here.

-And who’s your father?

-Look, you dumbass, Sergio Lampone’s got no son, and I don’t know you, so think!

Toni opened the door and Joey, wearing a white shirt with blue palms and jeans pants got in the room, holding his briefcase.

-Where’s dad? And who are you?

-He’s sleeping, and so is Lampone. -answered Toni, pointing at the fat capo, whose mouth was open, sleeping on the couch. -I’m Antonio Cipriani, your father’s bodyguard.

-And I’m Joey Leone, your employer’s son. -he sarcastically said. -Hey, fat-ass! -he friendly punched Sergio’s arm to wake him up.

-Huh? Mom? -Sergio said. He sat on the couch and looked at Joey for a few seconds, like checking who he was. He got up and hugged his godson. -Joey! Long time no see.

-So what’s up, old man?

-A lot of things, such as your father’s blood pressure. -Sergio said, laughing with Joey.

 

D-Ice’s Mansion, Cedar Grove, Shoreside Vale

 

In the outside of the house, two taxis parked in the front gate. A young black girl, wearing a tight pink top and blue jeans shorts, left one of them. A Spanish look-alike man, wearing a dark blue jacket with a white shirt and jeans pants left the backseat along with the woman. Another man, nearly bald with a moustache, wearing a white and blue striped t-shirt and jeans pants, left the front passenger’s seat. Three other men, wearing green jackets and rags, left the other cab. The men in green clothes made a circle around the woman, holding their MP5s sub-machine guns.

-All right boys, everything’s fine now. -the woman said, walking to the gate and pressing a door bell.

 

Carl Johnson was sleeping on a red velvet couch, holding an almost empty bottle of beer with the right hand. “It’s Tricky”, by Run DMC, was being played by a stereo, when the door bell ringed. He got up. A few Hoodz gang members, wearing red and black clothes, were sleeping all over the big room. Yesterday, all of them spent the night drinking and trying to forget the massacre in Portland. Carl walked to the main door and opened it. A few meters away, outside of the gate, lots of men -and one woman- were there. He looked for the gate keys and pressed a button on one of them, allowing the visitors to get in. The woman ran to hug Carl.

-Sis! -he said. -How are you?

-I’m fine! So what’s up?

-What’s up?! What do you mean “what’s up”? What’s up with you, coming here?

-Just trying to help!

The Spanish look-alike walked to Carl.

-Hey Cesar! Whassup, homie?

-Hey, holmes… We brought some backup, ese…

The bald man joined the group.

-Cesar. You never told me this was the pendejo we were coming to save. I’d stay home if I knew.

-Who are you? -asked Carl.

-Jose, ese.

-Jose… Aw, you! You’re that asshole on the low-rider sh*t! You fu--

-Stop both you kids! -said Kendl. -This ain’t about you two, this is about Sweet!

-Sorry. -said Carl.

-Whatever. -Jose said.

-But sis, how’d you get here?

-Well, let’s say my stupid brother leaves everyone’s addresses in a book!

-Oh. I gotta be more careful.

-Guess so!

 

Sergio Lampone’s house, Stauton Island

 

Salvatore and Joey Leone, respectively the Don and his son, along with Sergio Lampone, the capo, and Antonio Cipriani, the “guy in the black suit who is not a family guy”, as Joey called him, were sitting on the kitchen round blue and white table, drinking such a bad coffee that Joey was thinking of spitting it all over the floor. He just swallowed it instead.

-Then the bitch said: “That’ll cost you a thousand, motherf*cker! I told you not to put your thing back there!” -said Sergio Lampone out loud, imitating a woman’s voice, and everyone on the table laughed.

-Then what did you do to her? -asked Joey, excited about the story Sergio was telling.

-I did what I should do! -said Sergio. -I paid her!

Everyone laughed out loud.

-Haha… Well, fellas, excuse me, but my son Joey, no matter how he likes it, isn’t here to listen to fake stories.

-Hey! It’s true! -Sergio said. -Anyway, why don’t you say a word, kid? -he asked, looking at Toni.

-Well, I…

-As I was saying… -interrupted Salvatore. -We gotta talk business. Sergio. We are having a good time here…

-Indeed. -said Joey.

-But no matter how good this place is, sooner or later, I will need to get back to my house, back to business. I can’t keep on hiding all my life. Gentleman. Carl Johnson is, even though you might not want to believe it, a big enemy of our organization. And we, men of honor, shall not run away from him. Sergio. How’s your regime?

-Inactive. They’re all running legit business… My right-arm is running a pizzeria!

-Are they ready?

-Yes.

-Good. Now, Joey. How’s business down there?

-What? -asked Joey.

-In Vice City, you dumb.

-Oh. They’re fine… Why?

-Do you have someone you trust?

-There’s you…

-I meant there.

-My lawyer, I think.

-Your lawyer? What did I do wrong with you? You can’t trust a lawyer!

-Oh, but he’s an asshole. I mean, he wouldn’t rat a fly out. Plus, I don’t need to actually trust him, all my businesses there are completely clean, pop.

-And who’s your lawyer anyway?

-Rosenberg something. A good lawyer… For a crack head.

-Argh… Sergio… -said the Don. -Call your… “Right-arm”. Tell him to take three more guys for this job.

-What? What job? -asked the caporegime.

-He’s going to execute Carl Johnson.

-Wait, pop. -interrupted Joey. -No…

-Joey, no matter what you say right now, Carl Johnson is a dead man!

-I know. I just wanna do it myself.

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

 

Just doing a quick log and posting a new chapter.

Still using dial-up, so don't expect me to post

Edited March 21, 2007 by Sinful

[Sinful]

I don't wanna sound like an asshole, but no one readed the last chapter?

[Red_Jacks&Purple_Nines]

Yo man, this is a kick @$$ story ya got here. I'll be continuing to read this.

[Sinful]

I've lost my star... Again, lol.

[-/TNT\-]

Just read through it all. Very nice, although the different views made it confusing at a point. Rated good

[Sinful]

O-Kay... No one seem to be reading this, anyway.

I've wrote this chapter a long time ago.

Now, depending on the comments, I might continue the fic or not. It's not like I wanna write to myself, ya know.

 

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

 

Chapter VIII - Pendejo

 

 

Two days after the meeting in Sergio Lampone’s house, 1PM.

 

Backyard, D-Ice’s Mansion, Cedar Grove, Liberty City.

 

-You know, I like this hood. -said Carl Johnson, biting one quarter of his hamburger meal. He, D-Ice and Cesar Vialpando were sitting on wood chairs on the backyard. The smell of hamburgers on the kitchen’s oven could be felt from miles away and there were Hoodz thugs playing baseball (or football? It was a soccer ball) on the grass.

-Oh yeah? Why? -asked D-Ice.

-It’s called Cedar Grove. The place I live in LS is Grove Street… We’re called Orange Grove Families…

-How lovely. Wanna move in or what?

-Haha… No way, dude.

-No way?! Now you’re offending me. He he…

-My home’s San Andreas, man… Wouldn’t move outta there for nothing… What’s that thing? -asked Carl, pointing at a silver cylinder that fell on the grass out of nowhere.

-I don’t know. It’s not a bomb, I tell you that! Haha… Anyway, you wouldn’t move outta Andreas not even if you had a hit on you?

-Hell, no!

-‘Til death, ese. -said Cesar, raising his empty beer glass. A thug threw a ball above the hedge wall. -Aw, sh*t, gotta take more beer. Be right back.

No one saw it coming.

 

-Anyway, what kind of hit is this? -asked Francesco Redi, Lampone’ s right-arm, to Joey.

-It’s a stylish hit. -answered Joey, leaving the black Rumpo van’s driver’s seat. -And safer.

Four men, wearing black pants full of pockets and a bulletproof jacket, also full of pockets, as well as IR goggles and ski masks, left the back of the van.

-We look like f*ckin’ aliens! -said Redi, grabbing his MP5 machine gun and leaving the passenger’s seat.

-Yeah, and what’s with these pockets? They’re all empty! -asked another Leone thug.

-Shut up you two. Just pay attention. I saw this on a movie once. It works. It’s cool… That right there -he pointed at a big mansion across the street. -Is the thief’s house.

-But I thought he lived in San Anthony or something…

-It’s San Andreas, dumbass. He’s staying in there.

-And you know that how…?

-C’mon, it’s obvious. The guys who attacked my pop’s house were Hoodz and Triads.

-And how do we know he ain’t in a Chinese restaurant?

-Because the Chineses left the Hoodz to death at the shootout.

-How do we identify him?

-Here’s a picture of him. -said Joey, opening one of the pockets on his black jacket and grabbing a photo. He showed it to the goons. The photo showed Carl and Joey smiling inside some place that looked like a stolen cars depot.

-Is he the white or the black guy? -asked one of the goons, holding the laugh.

-Not funny. Let’s go.

The group of six hitmen was crossing the street when Redi said:

-Wait. What’s the plan again?

-I’ll throw this. -said Joey, showing a silver cylinder on a pocket. -It’s a smoke grenade. Then we’ll turn our goggles on. They won’t see a thing.

One of the goons turned his goggles on.

-Aw! Turn it off! I can’t see a thing! I’m blind!

Joey pressed the button on the right side of the goggles.

-Idiot! You’re not supposed to turn it on NOW!

-Oh… I’m sorry.

The group walked to the main gate and Joey said:

-All right, look, let’s split up. We’ll meet at the back.

-Affirmative, sir. -said a thug.

-We may be dressed as, but we’re not SWATs, all right?

A few seconds later, the hitmen met on the back of the house. There was a hedge wall there. The armed group climbed it and Joey threw the smoke grenade. It fell on the grass and nothing happened.

-What the f*ck?! -said Joey.

-Looks like your little silver thing didn’t work. I said ya we should just kill him classic way.

-Shut up. I’ll shoot him myself. You guys cover me.

-Cover you? But no one saw us!

-Argh, whatever.

Joey grabbed his MP5 from his back and sat back on the hedge wall’s top. He took his goggles and the ski mask out to breathe. Two other men, unknown to Joey -a black and the other looked Spanish- were sitting aside with Carl Johnson. Joey aimed at him. Carl, his friend, now his enemy, trying to kill his father.

-Oh, who cares. -said Joey. Some unknown object flew to him. Then, even though it looked like an hour for him, it all happened in a second. In attempt to flee from the object, Joey ended up dropping his weapon and falling inside the backyard of the house. Francesco Redi and the other goons were aiming at the thief as well, prepared to shoot. The bullets, coming from all of the thug’s weapons -or would that be only one? No one knew for sure-, flew all over the backyard, many just hitting walls and windows. One of them hit the Spanish guy. Why he got up? Maybe to protect Johnson. The man fell on the ground, dead. Many thugs ran inside the house for some reason. Joey quickly grabbed his MP5. Carl Johnson ran to the Spanish’s dead body and looked at Joey.

“Big deal, all he’s seeing is a SWAT guy.” The young Mafiosi thought.

-My mask. Ops.

 

-‘Til death, ese. -said Cesar Vialpando, the Mexican gang leader, raising his empty beer glass. -Aw, sh*t, gotta take more. Be right back.

He got up, and two seconds later fell on the ground, his whole chest pierced with bullets and painted red by the blood. Carl Johnson got up and ran to his friend’s body. All his “homies”, Grove members, as well as D-Ice and his thugs, ran inside the Mansion. Carl checked Cesar’s pulse. Dead, as he thought. He looked around the backyard, looking for the killer. He had a plan: he would take the barbecue knife he used to slice the bread on the small table in front of him, flee from every bullet and cut the killer’s head.

“Oh, yeah, big plan, tough guy, flee from bullets. What next? X-Ray vision, Mr. Super Johnson? Idiot.” Carl thought. “Well, I could just run inside the Mansion and grab a piece… so that’s why they all ran away.”

When Carl Johnson looked at the young man wearing the SWAT uniform and holding a MP5 machine gun on the right hand, he did nothing.

-Joey.

The look of betrayal in Carl’s face could probably pierce Salvatore Leone’s son if he wasn’t wearing a body armor. That was all Carl said before Joey run back to the hedge wall and jump out.

-Cesar… Oh, sh*t.

The Hoodz and Grove gang members, wearing beach shorts and sunglasses, holding AK-47s and Mac10s, ran back to the backyard, aiming at nothing. Kendl Johnson ran to Carl, and saw her husband’s dead body.

-Sis! -said Carl, getting up and hugging his sister.

-Cesar! Is he…?

-Don’t worry, sis… We’ll be fine… I guess.

-That’s not right. -said Jose, walking to the group and looking at Cesar’s dead body.

-Of course it’s not right, you dumbass, Cesar’s dead! -shouted Kendl.

-Hey, take it easy, sis, it ain’t his fault. -said Carl. -I bet he ain’t happy with what happened either.

-Indeed, Johnson boy. But, you know, I never really liked any of this.

-This what? What are you talking about?

Two girls, probably sisters of someone at the meeting, walked to Kendl and took her inside the house.

-The idea of coming to this… Place… Liberty. Our place is Los Santos, not this dump town.

-So who cares? Cesar’s dead!

-You don’t understand. This is not about your brother, not about you, it’s never been. They killed one of our own. And now these pendejos are gonna feel it.

-Feel it? What do you mean?

-Nothing, you wouldn’t understand. I don’t belong here.

Jose and the Mexican thugs packed up and left the Mansion.

-Hey Carl. -said D-Ice, walking to Johnson. Cesar had now a black jacket covering his dead body, and Carl was staring at it. -I’m sorry, man. Really am. If there’s anything I can do…

-You’re already doing everything you can, dude, no problem.

-So, about your friend… Well, we obviously can’t keep him here… I know a guy who knows another guy who can take good care of him, if you want.

-Yeah, sure. I’ll go talk to my sis, she must be terrified.

-Ok, good.

 

Joey ran and jumped the hedge wall faster than he thought possible for him. He grabbed the ski mask and goggles from the outside and ran back to the black Rumpo. All the other thugs were there waiting for him. He turned the vehicle on and quickly drove off.

-What the f*ck happened back there? -he asked.

-I don’t know! You fell, and then we shot him! -said Redi. -And we got him!

-No you didn’t, asshole, you killed another guy!

-No way! I saw him falling!

-You saw another guy! How could you ignore the fact that Carl Johnson is not SPANISH?

-Oh, sh*t…

-No problem, anyway. We can just come anytime and finish the job. You don’t even have to tell your daddy. -said one of the thugs, Gabriel.

-Daddy? What the… Shut the f*ck up, you son of a bitch! Or I’ll chop your head off! -yelled Joey, running over a hydrant.

-Hey, watch out! -said Redi.

-Yeah, you heard it! So what if we killed the wrong guy? -said Gabriel. -Big deal! One less asshole in the world! You’re such a little baby, you know. Vice City made a soft guy out of you.

Gabriel’s blood flew all over the back of the van when Joey shot him in the head.

-AAH!!! WHAT THE f*ck DID YOU DO? -yelled Redi.

-You want some of this too?

Nobody said another word until they got in Lampone’s house.

 

-Joey! -said Salvatore Leone, wearing a baby-blue and white striped polo shirt and light brown leather pants, hugging his son when he walked into Sergio’s house. -Come here, my boy.

Joey, Salvatore, Redi, Toni and Lampone walked to the kitchen.

-So how’d it go? You got the bastard? Took him down?

-Ah… Well. Dad…

-Lemme do the talking, Joey. -said Redi, and everyone looked at him. -Here’s what happened: we were sitting at this hedge wall, aiming at the guy, then outta nowhere Joey falls. We knew he was gonna get caught, so we shot Johnson. The problem is: some other guy got in the front and got shot.

-Oh, goddamn it, Joey! -said Lampone.

-Hey, I was trying to flee from something. I think someone tried to shoot me back there! -said Joey, referring to the soccer ball someone threw in his direction.

-But you got him, right? -asked Salvatore.

-We couldn’t get’em. -said Joey. -Those gangbangers tried to shoot us… Gabriel died.

-Aw, f*ck! What about Brian? -asked Lampone, referring to the third thug.

-He’s out there, smoking.

-What other guy? -asked Toni.

-I don’t know his name… He looked Spanish.

-Aw, sh*t.

-Why? -asked Salvatore.

-When you sent me to the job, I did some quick search about Johnson. He’s connected with the Mexican too.

-You mean those Mexican coke-dealing bangers from San Andreas?

-Yeah.

-Oh, great! -said Salvatore. -Now we have what? Five gangs after us?

-Actually they’re four gangs: the Hoodz, the “Grove”, the Triad and the Mexican dudes.

-It was a rhetorical question.

-What? -asked Toni.

-It means you weren’t supposed to answer it!

-Oh, sorry.

-I’m sorry, pop.

-No problem, Joey. At least you’ve tried.

-We gotta try again. -said Redi, chewing gum, his wavy and long blonde hair trembling from the wind that came through the open window.

-We can’t. -said Lampone. -They’ll get more protection than ever. We’ll have to call a sniper or something.

-Nah, snipers are for pussies. -said Joey.

-Do you have a better idea? -asked Toni.

-Hey, who do you think you are talking to me like that, asshole? -said Joey, pushing Toni.

-Hey, hey, quit it! -said the Don. -Stop acting like this. Now we must wisely choose our next move. We gotta hit’em where they less expect.

-Oh, yeah, nice speech, dad. But how we do it?

-See? That’s why you’re not in the business. You don’t know how to think like us. Lived too much in this f*ckin’ country. -said Salvatore, and Redi silently laughed. -What are laughing of? And what’s with the hair, anyway? -he said, and Redi stopped laughing.

-Sorry, Godfather.

-The funeral. -Salvatore said.

-Funeral… What? -asked Lampone.

-Yeah, I’m not following you. -said Toni.

-Oh, really? If you two just shut up for a second and lemme finish… Thanks. We’ll get’em on their funeral.

-At a funeral? Don’t you think that’s kinda… Unfair? -asked Joey.

-I like it. -said Redi.

-Good. Sergio?

-No problem with me.

-Fine. So we’ll do it. Sergio, who can you get us for this job?

-A few guys, but… They just came from Sicily… They’re not… trained. -said Sergio. Every six months he went to Sicily, looking for new guys to work for the Family in the USA. They all stayed inactive, working on legit businesses, until the day Lampone called them.

-So what? -asked Toni.

-They’re too… brutal. Didn’t get the proper training yet. -said Sergio.

-I like them. -said the Don. -Take’em to the job.

Edited June 17, 2007 by Sinful

[TonyZimmzy]

Poor Cesar, dying for that idiot CJ's mistakes!

 

I hope you continue writing this, mate.

[Gouveia]

sinful, that's great dude! hope you get that star

[Serafim]

The history is still great, Sinful. You could've warned me that you posted a new chapter, you know... I'm not the ones that keep hanging around all the time

[-/TNT\-]

Nice chapter, I feel sorry for Cesar, but the place was too cramped anyway.

[Sinful]

Chapter IX - All Your Fault

 

 

Verona Beach, Los Santos, San Andreas

 

Jose entered the house calmly. He didn’t really care about Cesar’s death; he knew that would happen sooner or later. He never really liked the decisions Cesar made after meeting Kendl. He knew they wouldn’t last long as a couple, and that sometime the two worlds -Varrios and Groves- would collide in a street war. Although there was no war, he just felt like his predictions were right.

The big white house, with two stories, a big garage and windows facing the sea was owned by Pablo Riaz, the second in command of the Mexican gang in Los Santos. Jose was his right-arm, and his position on the Cartel was the equivalent of a Mafia caporegime. Riaz shared the same feelings about Cesar’s relationship with Carl’s gang, so he also secretly thought that their leader should leave the position. He moved to San Andreas years ago, along with Cesar and his cousin Catalina, straight from Mexico. He didn’t speak a word of English, so Jose had to speak Spanish.

-Jose Cárdenas! -Pablo said when he hugged his friend. Even though he had about the same age as Cesar, his experience with drugs, the alcohol and the lack of exercises made him look like he was fifty years old. He was fat, bald, and had a big, black moustache.

-Pablo Riaz. -said Jose, smiling. -How are you?

-I’m fine. Heard about the news. Bad news…

-Yeah… Wait, what’s with the suit? -asked Jose, looking at the white suit and pink shirt Riaz was wearing.

-Oh, this? Just wanted to work a little today, go sell a little protection, you know how it is.

-Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later, then.

-No, no! Come with me. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.

They left the house, and got in Riaz’s yellow modified 84’ Cheetah. After he drove off, two blue Hermes, with white flame paintjobs, followed him.

-Protection? -asked Jose, looking at the mirror.

-Huh? Oh. Yeah. You never what can happen, right?

-Guess so.

-So, tell me, what happened in Liberty City?

-A mess. You sent us there to protect Cesar, but c’mon, we both know that wasn’t our war. If that cocksucker Johnson had his problems with the Italians, that’s his problem, not ours. Stupid Cesar wanted to help. I’m not sorry for him.

-Well, I’m forced to agree with you.

-What are you gonna do now?

-Now what? That Cesar’s dead? -asked Riaz, and Jose raised an eyebrow like saying “Of course, duh.” -Well, I’m the huh… The “leader” now. Even though we didn’t like Cesar that much, we can’t just let it go. Let’s take out some random guy from the mob, just so we can keep the appearances.

-Good plan. Anyway, why are you trying to get thin?

-There’s this doctor… He said I should get thin or else I’d die sooner. I think it’s bullsh*t, but who knows?

-Why don’t you talk to him again? Maybe there’s some medicine, I don’t know.

-I can’t.

-Can’t what? Use meds?

-I can’t talk to him.

-Why’s that?

-I blew his brains out! The guy said I’m fat! -said Riaz, like killing his doctor was the most obvious thing to do.

-Why that doesn’t surprise me?

-Not funny. And what about that other thing?

-What other thing?

-You know, I sent ya there for two things: look out for Cesar and examine the city.

-Oh, yeah, yeah…

-So…?

-Well, I like the place. Maybe we can set something up there.

-Good… Maybe you can work there yourself, what do you think?

-I don’t know… It’s just that… Even though it’s a nice place, I don’t think I could live there. I like it here.

-I see. We’ll find somebody else. Maybe that kid, Miguel.

-Miguel to run an operation like this? Are you crazy?

-We could give him a chance.

-Whatever. And how’s it gonna be? The mob thing.

-Can you do it?

-Sure.

-So just get a couple of guys, wait ‘til the opportunity arises, and do it. You’ll have to go back to Liberty, though.

-So what? I’ll go there, no problem. It’s not like I’m gonna live there.

-Fine, then. By the way, I want Cesar’s funeral to be there in Liberty. So when you meet Johnson and his friends, tell that to them.

-Are you gonna be there?

-Yeah, but I won’t go with you. Gotta take care of stuff. Oh, here we are. -said Riaz, still in Spanish, parking the Cheetah in front of a random Grocery Store near Vinewood.

-You’re gonna work here?

-Yeah. Are you gonna help me?

-Not this time. This thing in San Andreas might be a little difficult, so I better get there earlier. You mind if I use a couple of your bodyguards?

-No problem at all. But take Miguel with you.

-Where’s his hangout?

-He’s living at his grand mommas’ house. Near Cesar’s place.

-Fine, I’ll get there. See ya, Pablo.

-Hasta luego.

Jose left the car and walked to one of the bodyguards’ custom Hermes, driving off a few seconds later.

 

Two days earlier.

 

Kitchen, D-Ice’s Mansion, Cedar Grove, Liberty City.

 

-Calm down, sis, everything’s gonna be just fine… -said Carl Johnson to his sister, Kendl.

-Fine? FINE? CESAR IS DEAD! -yelled Kendl. -IT’S OVER! And it’s ALL YOUR FAULT! -she got up and started attacking Carl, who grabbed her arms

-Calm down, Kendl!

-If you haven’t tried to kill that Italian sucker we wouldn’t be going thru all this!

-Yeah, but he killed Sweet!

-And you ripped him off! -said Kendl, slapping Carl in the face and leaving the room. -Asshole!

-Hey. -said D-Ice, entering the room.

-Hey…

-So… What you gonna do?

-I dunno. What you did to him?

-Him…? Oh, yeah. One of my boys took care of it.

-What? You crazy? You dumped Cesar’s body?

-No! I said “took care” not “dumped”. He’s in a safe place, waiting for you to say what you gonna do.

-Ain’t sure that’s my call, but whatever.

-And what you gonna do about them?

-The mob?

-Who else?

-We gotta hit’em hard. We’ll go to his place in Portland.

-You crazy? There’s gotta be hundreds of mobsters covering Leone’s ass!

-So what? We can take’em.

-Carl. This gone too far. I’ve lost a lotta good guys back there. You lost your best friend! Your sis lost her man! All this bullsh*t just ‘cause you ripped him off?

-He killed my brother! -said Carl. -That’s enough reason to me!

-Do you brother justify all these dead people?

-Look, if you don’t wanna go, I’ll go. By myself. -said Carl, getting up from his chair and yelling: -GROVES!

The three Grove Street gang members walked to Carl, holding their MP5 submachine guns.

-Yeah, CJ. -said one of them.

-Let’s move. -answered Carl, staring at D-Ice.

-What about Kendl?

-I believe she can stay here for a while. -said Carl, with a sarcastic tone. -I hope that’s not a problem.

-Not at all. -answered Ice.

-Good. -said Carl, walking outside the house and getting inside a hijacked Greenwood along with his thugs.

 

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

Now, with my catch-phrase: "Hope you like it!"

Edited March 19, 2007 by Sinful