The Made Man

[GlockWorkz]

This story is amazing, keep writing, man ;D

[Serafim]

Yeah, nice chapter, sinful! Even if it just explained about Miguel

[Sinful]

I changed the fanfic's synopsis in the first page. The story went through a different path from the one I had planned, so I had to change the main goal.

 

Better than trying to twist the whole story to fit the main goal.

 

...?

[Red_Jacks&Purple_Nines]

It keeps getting better and better with every chapter man! Keep up the good work!

[Oxidizer]

Just read the first 3 chapters - this is awesome! I like the plots and everyone's in character.

 

I wanna play GTA now.

[Sinful]

Chapter X - Mayhem

 

 

Miguel, the bald, thin young boy in the mid-twenties, with a tiny, young-looking moustache, was sitting in front of his house, watching a few Varrios playing soccer. The blue Hermes parked in front of the house, and two men came out of it.

-Hey, Miguel!

-Que pasa, Jose?

-What are you plans for the week?

-Why you asking?

-Boss got a big job for you. Real deal.

-Oh yeah? And what’s that? We gonna raid a bank or something?

-Just get in the car, ese.

-Tá bien…

Miguel walked to the car and sat on the passenger’s seat. Jose got in and turned the car on, driving off. Pablo Riaz’s bodyguard was left back.

-What about the other guy?

-What other guy?

-The one was with you!

-Oh, him? Don’t even know his name. He can take a bus, anyway.

-So what’s so important?

-You’re gonna run an operation in Liberty.

-Liberty City? But that’s east coast!

-No sh*t? We gonna make our mark there. Settle turf.

-But that’s mob turf!

-Only a part. Maybe you could even work with the mob, who knows.

-Man… You nuts… But why me?

-What, you don’t wanna take the job?

-No, no! I’m just asking… I mean, why the boss don’t choose you?

-I don’t wanna work there. So he said me to take you to it.

-But what about my guys here?

-Ricardo will take them over. Or you can take them with you, if they want to, I don’t care.

-But what about my girl?

-What about her?

-I can’t leave her! And I can’t take her with me either, I’d have to convince her dad, and the guy’s a hard-ass puto! He’d never let me take the chica!

-So what? Leave the broad here, who said I give a f*ck?

-Hey don’t you talk about her like that, ese! And some cuca son of a bitch been dissing her… I can’t leave without dealing with this sh*t.

-See? That’s your opportunity right there.

-Huh? -asked Miguel, looking outside the window.

-No, idiota! -said Jose, slapping Miguel’s head.

-Hey! What do you mean, anyway?

-Kick the son of a bitch’s ass, then you’ll prove her dad what such a nice guy you can be.

-Huh… I don’t know man… He’ll think I’m a thug or a criminal if I do that!

-I’d rather be a criminal in jail than a f*ckin’ maricón.

-Oh, what the f*ck, let’s go.

 

The hijacked ‘87 Greenwood parked on the street in front of Salvatore Leone’s house.

-C’mon homies, let’s move it. -said Carl Johnson, leaving the car.

The other three Grove Street thugs left the car.

-Hey, CJ. -said one of them.

-What, Snow?

-I don’t know about this man. I mean, we packin’ and all… But these mob dudes must be lookin’ for us… We wearin’ our colors, we can’t hide.

-So who wants to hide? -said another one, Cochise.

-Cochise’s right. -said Carl. -We can’t take off our colors. If they lookin’ for us, bring it on.

-Yeah, yeah, but I don’t see anyone here. -said the third gangster, Masai.

It was now midnight, and the streets were nearly empty. No mobsters could be seen hanging around the street.

-Yeah, where is everybody? -asked Cochise.

-This doesn’t smell good… -said Carl.

-I think we better take off, man. -said Snow.

-What’s the matter, you going fa**ot? -asked Masai.

-Shut up ya’ll. -said Carl. -Let’s move.

The gang leader picked up a baseball bat from inside the car.

-Hey, what you doin’, man? -asked Cochise.

-Just watch my back. -said Carl.

-You packin’, right?

-Course I am.

The quartet crossed the street and entered the dirt path leading to the house.

-You hear that? -asked Snow.

-What? You tripping, man. Chill out. -said Masai.

They were then walking through the cement path stairs. The house had the glass doors closed, and no one seemed to be inside.

-Alright, look. -said Carl. -Cop style, now. Each one of you clear a room. Anything happens, just yell.

The subordinates nodded and Carl walked to the door. He swung the baseball bat and hit it on the glass, breaking it in thousands of pieces.

-Real smooth, Carl. -said Masai.

-Go.

They quickly ran inside the house and searched for rooms to check.

Carl kicked the TV room’s door down and quickly noticed that the only alive thing on the room were the bugs flying around.

-Nothing here.

Masai took down the office’s door with a strong kick. Holding his MP5 and aiming everywhere, he realized there was no one inside the room.

-Clear!

Snow was trembling his hand when he slowly opened the door of the main bedroom. No one seemed to be there. He walked in and stumbled on something. He quickly aimed his gun at the unidentified object and opened fire all over it, hitting the floor and the walls.

-Ahh!

Cochise decided to go stealth style on the guest bedroom, despite the deafening sound of glass breaking earlier made by Carl. Slowly and without making any sound he opened the door. He was about to check the room when he heard a yell. It was Snow. Gunshots he then heard. He ran back to the hallway and to the main bedroom. Snow was tremulous, his eyes wide-opened, then staring at Cochise. He had dropped his gun after shooting the room.

-What the f*ck happened, Snow?

-I… I’m sorry. I thought there was someone…

-What was that? -asked Carl, walking in the hallway with Masai.

-Snow’s loosing it, hehe. -answered Cochise.

-What’s going on, Snow? -asked Masai.

-I thought there was somebody in the room, -said Cochise, looking at what he thought was Carl. The hallway was really dark, and they could barely see each other. -but I think it was nothing.

-sh*t. Anyway. -said Carl. -All clear?

-Yeah.

-Sure.

-Ok, so--

-Drop your weapons or I’ll blow his brains out. -the voice said. Carl felt a gun barrel behind his back.

-Do what he said. -said Carl.

The thugs dropped their weapons on the floor and raised their hands.

-You guys thought you could just walk in the Don’s house and shoot everywhere? Damn wrong. I’m gonna call Joe now. Move a muscle and you’re dead.

The mobster took back the gun from Carl’s back and slowly walked back, grabbing his cell phone and starting to dial.

Carl didn’t do any sound when he swung the bat on the mobster’s leg. A breaking sound was heard and the man fell, groaning in pain.

-Who the hell are you? -asked Carl.

The man stood quiet, except for the groans.

-Tell me, bitch! -said Carl. -Wreck this asshole.

Masai walked from behind Carl, aimed his MP5 to the man’s head and pulled the gun’s trigger. Three bullets flew from its barrel, penetrating on the mobster’s head, the sounds of flesh being burnt and bones broken could be heard.

The quartet stood quiet, staring at the body on the floor.

-I thought you said the place was clear.

Then Cochise remembered.

-My fault. I was gonna check out the bedroom, and then I heard Snow yelling and came here to check out.

-You could’ve got us killed.

-I’m sorry.

-Shut up.

-What are you gonna do now? -asked Masai.

-Let’s wreck this place! Smash everything around here. Don’t leave anything standing. If we can’t take Salvatore, the least we can do is this.

Edited March 22, 2007 by Sinful

[Gouveia]

That's freaking awesome! Man, gotta read from the beggining to catchup

[Serafim]

Yeah man, nice chapter. I wonder who was the mobster

[Sinful]

There's a new chapter done, I might post it tomorrow.

[TonyZimmzy]

Ahh, I'm late, didn't know you posted Chapter ten. Great chapter sh*t's heating up big time

[Sinful]

Chapter XI - Run, Carl, Run!

 

 

28th December, 1992

 

The modified Hermes parked in front of an alleyway near Jefferson Hotel. Miguel came out of the car, followed by Jose.

-You got a gun? -asked Jose.

-No.

-Good.

-What?

-You don’t wanna kill him. All you wanna do is scare him. There’s a bat on the backseat.

-Whatever…

Miguel opened the door of the car and picked up a wooden bat behind the passenger’s seat.

-This the place?

-Yeah. -said Miguel.

-Go ahead, I got your back.

Miguel entered the alleyway and jumped through a fence inside a house. There was a yellow PCJ600 on a corner inside the backyard.

-Adolph… -he shouted. -Come out to play…

Miguel walked to the PCJ, examining it. He swung the bat and hit it on the motorcycle, breaking its headlights and windshield.

-Come out to play… -he said.

A white bald man with no shirt and wearing a black bandana came running from inside the house. He had many tattoos around his chest and arms.

-What the f*ck you think you’re doing, son of a bitch?

-Adolph… I’m here to settle score with you. I know you been dissing Maria.

-So what if I did, you Latino asshole?

-You’re going down.

-Yeah you think so? -said Adolph, whistling.

-What the f*ck?

Three men, all wearing black bandanas, left Adolph’s house. One of them was holding a sledgehammer, the other had a pair of brass knuckles on, and the last one was holding a knife.

-Oh, sh*t…

-Come on, Saracens, let’s play. -said Adolph.

The four men began to run in Miguel’s direction. The first one hit his chest with the sledgehammer, making him fall back. The second one was punching Miguel in the back with the brass knuckles. The third, with the knife, was coming straight to Miguel’s face. He diverted the attack by throwing himself to the right and pushing back the brass knuckles attacker. The knife ended up hitting the sledgehammer man on the eyes, making him pass out.

Only three left.

Miguel took advantage of the distraction to successfully hit the baseball bat straight in the knife attacker’s face. A breaking sound was heard, and he fell back, bleeding from the mouth and eyes. Adolph took the sledgehammer from the ground and hit it in Miguel’s stomach, making him fall on the ground, groaning.

-Heh. Too easy, huh? -said Adolph, looking at the brass knuckles attacker.

-f*ck yeah.

-JOSE! -yelled Miguel as loud as he could.

-Jose? Who the f*ck’s Jose? -said Adolph. -Another Latino asshole, huh? Hahaha.

Jose came running down the alleyway, holding a 9MM pistol. When he saw Miguel groaning on the ground and the two white men with black bandanas -the “Saracens”, as Adolph said- were standing near him, he knew things went wrong.

-Get down on the ground, pendejo! -shouted Jose, aiming his gun at Adolph. The duo lied facing the ground, hands on the back. -Get up, maricón.

Miguel got up, coughing and spitting blood on the floor.

-Mierda! They messed you up pretty bad, huh?

-Don’t talk. -said Miguel. -Let’s-- *cough*Let’s get outta here.

-What? No way. Now you finish them assholes.

-What’s the point? They won, I lost.

-Stop acting like a bitch, Miguel! Do what I said NOW!

Miguel then realized how serious Jose was about that. He grabbed the baseball bat from the ground, swung it, and hit Adolph’s back three times, making him pass out. Jose then aimed his gun at the brass knuckles man.

-Move and die, ese.

Miguel hit the bat on the Saracen’s right leg, breaking it. The gangster passed out in pain. He was about to hit the bat on his face when Jose interrupted him.

-Enough! Let’s go, ese. That’ll show them putas who’s the man here.

 

Salvatore Leone’s house, Beach, Portland, Liberty City

 

The whole house was destroyed. The trespassers broke everything they could, and there was no one to stop them.

-Damn, man, I’m tired. -said Snow, the young Grove Street member, sitting on the floor.

-We been doin’ this for hours, CJ! -whined Cochise.

-Yeah, CJ, when we takin’ off? -said Masai.

Carl swung the bat and hit it on a coffee table, breaking it in two.

-I think it’s enough for now. And who was that mobster?

Snow walked to the mobster’s body lying on the floor. He checked his pockets and grabbed his wallet.

-It says Fausto Tri… No, Throne… Ahh, it’s just some stupid Italian name, man, who cares?

-Ever heard of him? -asked Cochise.

-Nope. -said Carl. -Anyway, let’s get outta here, homies.

It was nearly five o’ clock in the morning, and a thin snow, more like a rain, was beginning to fall.

-Damn city! -whined Carl, walking out of the house and looking at the beach. -Even their beaches are lame.

-I think we got bigger problems, CJ… -said Snow, looking outside the house through a window.

-What is it? -asked Carl without looking back.

-Mobsters, CJ. -said Masai. -Lots of them.

-Aw, f*ck, man! -said Cochise. -We gonna get wasted!

Carl turned back and looked at the street. There were about ten black modified Sentinels parked on the street, blocking all possible exits. Dozens of Leone Soldatos were leaving the cars, M16 machineguns and SPAZ shotguns in hand.

-Oh, f*ck! -shouted Carl, running back inside the house. -C’mon, get back inside, guys.

The gangsters ran back inside the house as well, holding their MP5 submachine guns.

-What we gonna do? -asked Snow.

-We’re outnumbered, we can’t take them. -said Masai.

-No sh*t, Sherlock? -said Cochise. -It’s over, man, we’re over.

-What? Shut up, Cochise! -said Carl. -We’re gonna pop our way outta here.

-Oh yeah? We and what f*ckin’ army? -asked Snow.

-Whatever the hell you gonna do, -said Masai. -you better do it fast, CJ, the mobsters are already in.

-To the beach, let’s move! -said Carl.

The Grove Street gangsters ran deeper inside the house, and Masai broke their way out through a window in the main bedroom. The group silently ran through the short cement yard and jumped a short concrete fence. They slid down the rocks and landed on the beach.

-We lost’em? -asked Snow while running.

-Guess so! -yelled Cochise.

 

Fausto Trivelli was not happy at all with the job he was given. Watch the Don’s house? Nothing would happen there. The ghetto bangers from Los Santos and Shoreside would never dare to go that far. But a job is a job, and if he wanted to climb up on the Family’s hierarchy, he’d better do it. Plus, his promotion from Associate to Soldato looked closer than ever with the whole war thing. He was sleeping in the guest bedroom, calmly, when he woke up. A loud noise. Gunshots. Someone was opening the door of the bedroom. He rapidly picked up his 9MM from under his pillow, unlocking it and aiming at the door. Fausto heard the invader’s footsteps walking away. He got up from the bed and quickly wore his black silk pants and white shirt. He slowly, quietly walked outside the bedroom. It was deeply dark inside the house, making everything easier to him. Looked like the job wasn’t being so boring after all.

As far as he could see, there were four men standing at the door outside the main bedroom. Fausto walked through the shadows and held his weapon against one of the invader’s back.

-Drop your weapons or I’ll blow his brains out. -Trivelli said. How did he know the men were armed? He just figured it out. No one would invade the Don’s house without any heat.

-Do what he said. -someone said. He couldn’t be sure who. Sounded like a young man with a ghetto accent. So they weren’t from the Forellis or Sindaccos. Good.

Fausto heard weapons being dropped on the floor. He was right, after all. He tried his best to sound tough when he talked.

-You guys thought you could just walk in the Don’s house and shoot everywhere? Damn wrong. I’m gonna call Joe now. Move a muscle and you’re dead.

The mobster walked back and grabbed his cell phone. He started to dial Joe Falcone’s phone number. When he was finished, he put the phone in his ears. He was outnumbered: one versus four. Joe had to pick up. Fast.

Out of nowhere, something hit Fausto on the right leg, breaking it. Or so thought. He fell on the floor, dropping the cell phone and the weapon.

 

Joe Falcone was getting ready to the action. The hooker was already naked and playing with herself on the bed while he was still taking his clothes off. He had to get a wife. All that life with whores was going to get him killed sometime. It was really cold, and the damn windows from that lousy hotel he was were stuck open, letting a cold breeze fly inside the room. His cell phone ringed. Great. Snow and cell phones. What next? A lousy hooker? He picked it up after a few seconds. The hooker checked her clock.

-C’mon baby, I ain’t got all night… -she said.

-Just shut the f*ck up and wait, alright? -Joe said. -Hello? Hello? Who’s there?

There was no one in the other side of the line. Joe was about to hang up when he heard a voice, although it wasn’t speaking directly to the phone.

-Who the hell are you? -the voice asked, and nobody answered. -Tell me, bitch! -still nothing. -Wreck this asshole.

“Wreck this asshole”? What the hell was going on? Who would call Falcone that late?

He heard gunshots, probably from a machine gun. Then there was silence. He heard footsteps, and then static. Someone had stepped on the cell phone.

Who was that? The voice appeared to be from a young man with a ghetto accent. Ghetto accent? Of course! The Leones were in war with the ghetto bangers from Shoreside Vale. But there was still one question left: who made the call?

Joe Falcone sat on the bed to think. That was serious. The hooker gave up, got dressed, and left the room.

-Hey, you… -said Joe while she was leaving. -Oh, screw her.

Fausto Trivelli. It had to be him. He was watching the Don’s house while he was out. But that on the phone was an execution. Someone killed Fausto in the Don’s house.

-OH, sh*t! -shouted Joe, dialing Sergio Lampone’s number.

[Serafim]

Nice chapter, Sinful. I most liked the part from Miguel

[TonyZimmzy]

Great chapter!

 

It looks like the end is running near for CJ and his boys

[Sinful]

Chapter XII - Enthusiasms

 

 

-We lost’em? -asked Snow while running through the beach.

-Guess so! -yelled Cochise.

-Carl? -said Snow, looking back. -Hey, where the f*ck’s Carl, man?

-What? Oh, sh*t, we gotta get back there!

-I ain’t coming back no way!

-But--

-sh*t, they’re onto us! -shouted Snow, fleeing from a gunshot and shooting back at the same time. Six men, all wearing black suits and holding heavy weapons, were pursuing the duo through the beach.

 

The black Sentinel parked in front of a rusty Greenwood in front of the Don’s house. There were many other Sentinels parked on the street as well, all of them with Soldatos waiting for Joe Falcone. He left the car and walked to one of them. Leone Soldatos began to leave the cars, holding M16s and shotguns.

-Hey. -said Joe, handshaking the man. -You are?

-Giuseppe. You must be Joe Falcone. Sergio told me about you.

-Oh yeah? Lovely. Enough with the introduction sh*t. What do we got here?

-We were waiting for you to lead us inside the house. That’s what Sergio told us to do.

-Oh, and you do everything anyone tells you to do? -said Joe. -I know you for one minute and I don’t like you. Let’s go, for f*ck’s sake. Gimme a piece.

Giuseppe lost any cordiality he had when he grabbed a M16 from the Sentinel’s backseat and handed it to Joe.

-Let’s go.

-Alright, let’s move, everyone! -said Giuseppe.

The group, made up of twenty Leone Soldatos, ran across the dirt path leading to the Don’s house.

-There they are! -said Joe.

He could see four black men inside the house: three of them were wearing green shirts and jackets, and the fourth, big and bald, wearing a black jacket and black pants and holding a baseball bat. One of them, wearing sunglasses, was looking at him through the mirror. Seconds later Fausto’s killers started to run deeper inside the house.

-They’re trapped, we got’em! -said Giuseppe.

-Nope, there’s another way out. -said Joe, referring to the small cement hallway leading to the beach. -They’re probably gonna try to run to from the beach.

-Is that good? -asked Giuseppe. They were inside the house now.

-Yeah, except for the beach, there’s no way out there, they’re gonna have to swim. And you know what happens next.

Joe was leading the big group through the house’s interior. He ran through the hallway and got into the main bedroom. The window was broken, and they just had to jump through it to get to the cement yard, which was a really small passage that made them run in a line. They ran across it and left to the grass backyard. They could see two of the Grove Street gang members on the beach.

-What about the others? -asked Joe.

-There! -said one of the Leone Soldatos, Leonardo, pointing to the cliff at the end of the yard.

-Now they’re trapped. You, go to the beach. -Joe said, pointing at a small group of mobsters along with Leonardo, who started to run down the beach. -The rest of you, come with me.

 

Leonardo was leading a small group of five thugs down the beach, following two of the gang members.

-You two! -shouted Leonardo, looking at two of the Soldatos. -Stop by and try to hit’em from here.

The two mobsters stopped running, climbed a rock on the cliff and laid their M16s on it, trying to get a good shot.

The other four gangsters were still running when the Grove Street members started shooting above their shoulders without looking back. One of the Soldatos got hit in the face and fell dead.

-sh*t! -yelled Leonardo, trying to flee from the subsequent gunshots and firing his own gun at the escapers. One of them fell dead, dropping his MP5. Leonardo’s second man was still running and ran out of clips, so he grabbed the dead man’s sub machinegun. As he was getting on his knees to grab the gun, one of the bullets from the shootout hit him on the chest, making him fall back and having a hemorrhage, dying slowly.

-Aw f*ck! -shouted Leonardo, laying on the sand and shooting all over the escaper’s leg, making him fall facing ground. Leonardo got up, and just as he was approaching the Grove member’s alive body, three gunshots came from behind him, almost hitting him, but actually piercing the Los Santo’s gang member’s chest and face. Leonardo got up and looked at the mobster who had fired the gun, standing near the rock he earlier was.

-Figlio di una puttana! -he yelled, showing his middle finger. -Nearly got me!

 

Carl and his group were running through the grass backyard when they heard a gunshot behind them. The Leone mobsters had almost reached them. Carl and Masai ended up running to a different way from Cochise and Snow due to the arrangement of the pursuers behind them. As the last two ran down the beach, Carl and Masai kept running forward through the grass yard.

-sh*t! -said Masai while running. -We got split up!

-We’ll meet up with them later. -said Carl. -Let’s just hope these--

Carl had reached a cliff. No way out despite the oil spilled sea. The group of fifteen mobsters had reached them. It was the end for Carl Johnson.

-You Carl Johnson? -asked Joe Falcone. He was not aiming his gun at Carl. Instead, fourteen other mobsters, behind him, were doing it. Masai was aiming his MP5 sub machine gun directly at Falcone’s head.

-Yeh. -Carl answered, fearless. Even though he was paralyzed, unarmed and defenseless.

-A man becomes preeminent, he's expected to have enthusiasms. Enthusiasms… Oh, I forgot the rest of the line. It’s from a nice movie. But what the hell. -said Joe. -Everyone’s talking about you, ya know? How you’re tough and all that crap…

-Let us go. -said Masai. Even though he tried to sound calm, his hand was trembling as he held the weapon. -And I’ll let you live.

-Hahaha! -laughed Joe. -Do you really think you’re in position of making demands? Just shut up, kid.

Falcone walked to the wood bench nearby and sat down. He left his M16 aside and took a round shaped, silver whiskey flask from his internal suit pocket.

-Drinking. -he said. -This sh*t will kill me someday. -and he drank a little.

-What happened to Snow and Cochise? -asked Carl.

-Well, it’s cold, but it ain’t snowing. And if that apache wars book I read is right, Cochise died in 1874.

-Sadistic son of a bitch… -whispered Carl to himself.

-Where are the others? -asked Masai.

-They’re dead, kid. It’s over. You’re over. -said Falcone, drinking a little more and closing the flask, putting it back in his pocket.

Joe got up and walked to the duo. Masai was still aiming his MP5 at him.

-Drop the gun. -demanded Joe. -Now.

Masai looked at Joe and then at Carl, who nodded. He dropped the sub machine gun on the grass behind Joe.

-Who’s gonna be first? -asked Joe, smiling.

-Me. -said Carl.

-Your wish is my command. -said Joe, taking out a 9MM pistol from his pants’ back pocket and holding it against Masai’s sunglasses’ lens.

-I said me! -said Carl.

-Shut the f*ck up. -said Joe. -Any last wishes?

-Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death… -Masai whispered.

-Yeah, right. See you in hell.

The sun was rising.

The bullet pierced its way through the sunglasses’ lens and mutilated the gang member’s eye, finally stopping inside his brain.

Masai fell back, his body rolling down the rocks and falling on the water.

-How exciting this is. -said Joe, looking at the fallen body. -Oh, your turn. -and he aimed the pistol at Carl’s forehead. -Last words?

-Kiss my ass, mothaf*cka! -said Carl, kicking Joe Falcone between the legs, making him back off.

The majority of mobsters aiming at Carl could not get a clear shot due to Joe Falcone being in the way, and the rest was way too stunned to do anything but watch. Only one of them managed to shoot Carl in the right shoulder and arm. He fell back, rolled down the rocks and fell in the dark, oil slicked sea, his blood creating a red stain on the water.

Edited April 8, 2007 by Sinful

[TonyZimmzy]

sh*t! That chapter was intense as hell! I have a feeling that CJ is still alive and he's gonna be wanting himself some Revenge! If he's dead, atleast he went out with style

[Red_Jacks&Purple_Nines]

I'm really liking this story Sin man! That was a suspenseful chapter right there! Can't wait for more!

[Serafim]

Nice chapter, Sinful. CJ is alive and he's going to do a payback, like always. Meh, I would actually like if you came back to the old theme

[Vanilla Shake]

I just stumbled upon this gem of a story.

Keep it up!

[Oxidizer]

That. Was. Awesome.

 

Never was much of a CJ fan but I hope he's still alive.

 

Can't wait for more!

[Sinful]

They pushed me down the cliff, I fell, of course, damn gravity pulled me down. But luckily there was a soft, clean and puffy bed down there just waiting for me to fall, safe.

 

In pure English, I'm back on tracks with this, after a *long* delay.

You're probably thinking "shut the f*ck up and gimme the f*ckin' story, sinful!", well I say "your wish is my command, bi-atch!"

 

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

Chapter XIII - Still Alive?

 

 

The gang Hermes parked in front of the small, poor house near the Jefferson Hotel after a quick trip.

-Alright, go get her. -said Jose.

-You’re not coming? -Miguel asked.

-Why would I? She’s your bitch, not mine.

Miguel shook his head and left the car, walking towards the door. He knocked, and soon an old, Spanish-looking man opened it.

-Que quieres? -the man asked.

-Quiero hablar con Bianca, ese. -answered Miguel.

The old man walked back in the house, and a few seconds later a young, good looking Latina girl left it, hugging and kissing Miguel. They spoke with each other in Spanish as they walked to the car.

-I’m moving from here. -Miguel said after kissing her one last time.

-What? -asked Bianca. -Are you crazy?

-I need to. I’m gonna work in Liberty City, east coast.

-You’re gonna leave me!

-Come with me. -he said. -Let’s build ourselves a whole new life there.

-New life? No crime?

Miguel didn’t answer. He knew that his boss’ intentions in Liberty couldn’t be further away than the legal ways.

-I can’t promise you that.

-Then I’m not coming.

-Bianca, I beg you! -he said, almost yelling. -Nothing will happen to you!

-And what about you? How am I gonna be sure my man will be home everyday at night?

-Nothing will happen to me. It’s all peaceful up there. There’s no gangbanging there.

-But that’s where you come in, right, gangster? -said Bianca, insulting him and emphasizing the last word.

Miguel slapped her in the face. Not strong enough to hurt her, but enough to make her explode in anger.

-Son of a bitch! -Bianca shouted, pushing him back and walking back inside her house. -Forget you ever met me!

Miguel shook his head and walked to the car.

-Don’t say it. -Miguel warned, sitting back on the passenger’s seat.

-Hahaha! -laughed Jose. -Idiota.

-Let’s just get to the airport.

-Let’s get to the airport. -concurred Jose.

-When’s Cesar’s funeral happening?

-Boss said it’ll be in Liberty in a couple of days.

-You coming? -asked Miguel.

-Yeah, hell, I think I’ll go with you.

The Spanish gangster duet’s Hermes reached the Los Santos International Airport’s parking lot. Jose drove inside it, found a spot, and parked the car.

As they were walking towards the airport lobby’s entrance, Jose picked up his big, expensive cell phone and called Pablo Riaz’s number.

-Oye, Pablo? -said Jose, in Spanish. -Yeah, he’s here. No, he’s not carrying any bags. Why’d ask that? I’m going with him. -they had reached the lobby. -Yeah, ok. Tell someone to pick up the car here. Si. Tá bien, hasta luego.

-What was that? -asked Miguel. -Was that Riaz?

-Yeah, I was just telling him I’m coming with you.

 

Joe Falcone didn’t manage to watch as Carl Johnson’s body rolled down the rocks just to land on the other gangbanger’s dead body, as he was too busy trying to recover from the kick between his own legs.

-Son of a bitch! -shouted Joe, and Giuseppe laughed. -What are you laughing of? f*ckin’ asshole… I’m outta here.

-Maybe we should check the streets for a while, -suggested Giuseppe. -just to make sure he’s not alive.

-Yeah, like someone’s gonna survive that.

-Just trying to help.

-Got a better idea. Why don’t YOU go check out the streets for a while, while I go home and get a nice, hot bath? How about that?

-f*ck you.

-Yeah, yeah, hope I never see you again. -said Joe Falcone, walking out of the property, followed by Giuseppe and the rest of the mobsters. He got in his car and left as Giuseppe instructed the Soldatos.

-Alright, bambinos, divide and conquer. Let’s hang around, see if we can find that pazzo.

Giuseppe got into a black Sentinel along with other three Soldatos, driving off to Harwood.

-Harwood? -asked one of the mobsters, Leonardo. -Thought we was gonna check out Mark’s.

-If he’s still out there, -explained Giuseppe. -he swammed to the beach and try to find a phone. That’s where we come in.

-Swammed? -said Leonardo, ironic. -Nice English.

-Go suck a dick, pazzo. -said Giuseppe, laughing.

They were driving slowly down the street where Salvatore Leone’s house is located, and then turned right on the street leading to the Harwood junkyard.

-No sign of him… -said Leonardo.

-He’s sleeping with the fishes, I’m telling ya. -said another gangster.

-You never know… What about that guy over there? -asked Giuseppe, pointing at a young black man wearing a black jacket walking up the street. -Black guy, black coat… It’s gotta be him.

-sh*t, I think you’re right! -said Leonardo.

-I’ll get him. -said Giuseppe, parking the car. -Be right back.

Giuseppe opened the door of the ’92 Sentinel and walked rapidly towards the young man. He drew his 9MM Pistol from the internal pocket of the suit, held it against the puzzled man and fired it, killing him instantly.

-Done, let’s go. -he said, walking back inside the car.

 

His right arm was suffering with an excruciating pain from the shots. The toxic water wasn’t helping much either. Trying to swim his way to the shore using only one arm and coming out of the water eventually to breath, he fought for his life. Everything was blurred, he could barely separate the sand from the grass -if that was grass. The seconds felt like months, minutes felt like years while he was there. That was probably the worst experience of his life. No one was shooting him. Not that he knew, at least. He had reached the beach. Or at least hit his good arm on something hard. Or was it soft? He just climbed it, whatever it was. Beach. Tried to clean his eyes from the water but he just managed to get sand all over his wet face. He was safe. Well, at least safe from that damn water.

-Aw… f*ck. -he whispered to himself, walking slowly to what he thought was grass. There was a rock cliff on his way. -f*cking great. -he said while taking off his black jacket and ripping a piece of his green t-shirt. -This sh*t they do in the movies better work… -he wrapped the trying to stop the bleeding by wrapping the piece of clothing around the wound. More pain, but he managed to complete the task. He checked his pockets for a cell phone. He found none. -Aw, sh*t… -his vision was starting to come back as he walked through the grass. He finally got to see something. A neon light? A car made of neon lights. Then a pile of wrecked cars, along with little mountains of trash. Harwood, mob territory. There was telephone boot nearby, and almost nobody walking on the streets. He walked to it. An old lady looked at his wound, curious. He then realized he had forgotten his jacket at the beach. He reached the phone boot and dialed D-Ice’s number.

-Pick it up… C’mon…

A young black man was walking towards him, also looking at his flesh wound. He checked the green tissue on the arm, now painted black by the mix of green dye and blood.

-What you lookin’ at, bitch? -he said to the young man, who just raised an eyebrow and walked away.

-Who is it? -asked someone on the other side of the line.

-CJ… Get Ice, quick.

-Sure. -said the voice.

-What is it now? -asked D-Ice’s voice after a few seconds. -Called to brag ‘bout tha mob bitches again?

-I’m sorry… Got shot and need help, homie…

-Aw, sh*t! Where you at, bitch?

-Harwood.

-Tha f*ck you doin’ in mob turf? Wanna get wasted or something?

-Oh, f*ck! -shouted Carl. -Gotta go!

Carl hung up the public phone and threw himself on the sidewalk, trying to cover his face. A black Sentinel was driving slowly down the street, coming from Saint Mark’s. He grabbed an empty bottle of beer from nearby and pretended to be drinking as he pressed the right arm against the wall so the mobsters couldn’t see it bleeding.

Edited May 28, 2007 by Sinful

[Serafim]

Nice chapter, man! Hope Carl dies in Toni's hands to make the title make any sense *coughs*

[TonyZimmzy]

I feel the end is nearing for CJ now, how's he gonna get to D-Ice or D-Ice to him with all these mobsters around

[Sinful]

No one else?

[Eminence]

Hello!

 

I'll admit that I have yet to read the enitre thing, so I'm not fully informed about the nature of the whole thing (or what the story is about/where it is going etc! ). At first glance, I thought it looked unimpressive and just like a lot of the other script-like stories on here, but I took a brief skim through some of it and to my surprise there is actually some good description in there, so I'm tempted to start at the beginning and read through what you've done so far.

 

What I'm getting at, though (this is a major gripe of mine), is the way a lot of it is presented in a script-like form as opposed to a narrative. It's fair enough if you are actually writing a script, but with the description and everything it leans more towards an actual narrative, so I think it would improve it a lot if you embedded the dialogue within the story as opposed to simply write it out as a script with description inbetween.

 

Just my opinion, of course, it's not a demand or anything! I'm pretty sure once I get into it I'll be able to manage reading it as it is anyway, but I just thought I'd mention it!

 

I'll probably take a look at it later anyways.

 

Note: it seems as though all I do sometimes is point out mistakes in things, namely the aforementioned script-dialogue gripe I have with stories. Sorry if it seems like it's all I do, I'm only offering advice and whatnot. Or maybe I just can't stand mixing script with narrative. Oh well, take it as you will.

[Red_Jacks&Purple_Nines]

Next chapter...plz!!!! I am just hyped to see what'll happen to CJ!

[littlenick055]

I know as a fact toni wont die because hes in gta 3, but i dont know about CJ or sweet, plus sal wont die, you kill him in gta 3 also.

[Sinful]

Chapter XIV - Not Dead, Bitch

 

 

29th December, 1992

 

Harwood, Portland, Liberty City

 

-Cool, cool… -said Leonardo as Giuseppe got back in the car. -Let’s get outta here, cops will be over in no time.

-Sure. Let’s get to Stauton so I can give’em the news in person.

-Can we just stop by a Wall Stacked or something? -said another gangster. -I’m hungry as hell.

-Sure, why not? It’s not like some west coast asshole’s gonna come after us or something. -said Giuseppe, laughing.

He drove the car away from the dead man’s body.

 

A light yellow Stallion was driving down the street leading to the Harwood Junkyard.

-Ice? -whispered Carl Johnson to himself.

A black man’s head came out of the Stallion’s passenger window. Carl got up from the sidewalk and raised his left arm, waving.

The light-yellow car sped up in the Johnson boy’s direction, parking in front of him.

-Yo, CJ! -said D-Ice, opening the door and running to Carl. -You ok, man?

-I’m aight. I think. No need for a doctor, though.

-No way, ya made me drive all the way here, now I’m gonna have one of ma friends check ya out. -said Ice, sitting on the driver’s seat as the other Hoodz gang member jumped to the backseat.

-C’mon, I don’t need that sh*t… -said Carl, sitting on the passenger’s seat and closing the door as the car sped up. -I’m fine, I’m telling ya.

-Then why the f*ck you called me then? -said D-Ice.

-Alright, alright then. I just gotta… Hey! That’s them over there! There’s the mobsters!

-Where? -D-Ice asked, looking around.

-Right there, the black sedan.

-You sure?

-f*ck, I’m sure.

-You don’t actually want me to drive-by them, do ya?

-No way, no… -he made a pause. -Would you mind?

-Nigga, shut the f*ck up! -Ice said. -Let’s just get back to Sho’side.

-Alright, alright, wait. I got a plan. Follow’em.

-Is it gonna work?

-You’ll see. You got any paint?

-Well, Picasso here just happens to be a painter. He’s got all the colors back there.

-That so?

-That’s right, sir… -said Picasso on the backseat.

-f*ckin’ A.

 

Giuseppe parked the black Sentinel in front of Sergio Lampone’s brownstone. He and Leonardo left the car along with other two Soldatos.

-Damn, that pizza was nice. -Leonardo said. -Almost like mama’s.

-What the… -said Giuseppe. -Anyway. Me and… What’s your name again?

-Leo.

-Me and Leo will come upstairs, give’em the good news. You two wait here, all right?

The gangsters nodded and got back in the car. The duo walked inside upstairs and Giuseppe knocked on the door. Joey opened it a few seconds later.

-Who are you? -he asked.

-Giuseppe Viola. I’m a friend of Sergio’s. And who are you?

-Joey f*ckin’ Leone. -he said, and closed the door. A few seconds later he reopened it, letting them in.

Sergio and Salvatore were sitting on a sofa, watching the TV morning news. Toni was on the kitchen making himself breakfast. Giuseppe and Leonardo walked in slowly, the second trying to look respectable for the Don by cleaning the dust out of his suit.

Salvatore Leone, along with Lampone, got up to greet the recently arrived visitors.

-Don Leone. -said Giuseppe in a deep tone of respect. He then crouched and kissed the Don’s ring. Leonardo watched closely and waited for his time to come. As Giuseppe got up, he quickly proceeded to copy the ritual and also got up. They were all standing on the middle of the room, the TV now turned off by Toni Cipriani. Salvatore spoke first:

-Giuseppe Viola. I remember when you were made. A fine day. Now tell, me. Do you have news for me?

-Yes, sir. I’m proud to say that Carl Johnson has been eliminated. -he stated. -He will no longer be an issue to the Family, Mr. Leone.

-Very good, very good indeed. -said the Don, grinning. -I must ask: are you absolutely sure? No doubt of it?

-I did the job myself, sir.

-Then what is this young man doing here? -he said, looking at Leonardo. -I think your name is… Leonardo, right?

-Yes, Mr. Leone! -he said, awed by the fact that the Don remembered his name. -I… I assisted on the pursuit for Johnson. He had bodyguards. I managed to put two of them down, sir.

-Great job, kid. I’ll not forget all this. -said Salvatore.

-Congratulations, man. -said Antonio, shaking hands with Giuseppe. -Nice job you did on the prick. He was good.

-Yeah, sounds cool. -said Joey. -Ya’ll wait minute here.

The young Leone walked deep into the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine. Toni realized what he was doing and approached the kitchen to assist on the task. A few seconds later they came back with empty glasses and a bottle of white wine. Joey started to fill the glasses as Toni distributed the glasses.

-Better than this, -started Joey. -Only if we could get some girls, and…

-Shut up, Joey. -said Salvatore. -To that prick’s death!

And they toasted.

-I say we go out. -Lampone suggested. -How about some tacos?

All the men looked at him, puzzled.

-Hah! I’m just kidding, alright? Got you all! Hehe! How about Cipriani’s? Always the best place.

-Spectacular. -said Salvatore. -Let’s go, please.

All the men walked outside, laughing in awe. They laugh died, along with the smiles, when they noticed the scene in front of them.

There were two dead men lying on the sidewalk, their suits wet from the blood coming out from their wounds. The black Sentinel had words written with green spray all over it.

 

NOT DEAD, BITCH

GROVE STREET 4 LIFE

 

One of the mobsters on the floor was mumbling something inaudible. Antonio Cipriani crouched to hear him.

-Too fast… They’re alive… Johnson… -he then died, drowned on his own blood.

-Oh… sh*t. -whispered Giuseppe.

-Wow. -said Cipriani. -That doesn’t look good. What are you gonna do now, boss?

Antonio was so busy staring at the scene that he didn’t notice while the Don drew the 9MM pistol from his holster, aimed it at a surprised Giuseppe and fired.

-I’m sorry! -said Giuseppe, one second before being hit by a speeding bullet in the belly. He fell on the floor next to another body. The Don continued to shoot, approaching him to have a better aim. He fired over and over until the clip ran out of bullets. Eight times in the chest, three times in the head (the first to kill, the second just to make sure, and the third to make the body unrecognizable).

-You said he was dead!

 

-----

 

The title applies for both CJ and this fic

Edited May 28, 2007 by Sinful

[GTAGangsta58]

@ Sinful:>In Chpt IV, u put, "Escobar International Airport, Shoreside Vale, Liberty City", it is supose to be "Francis International Airport"........and i just started readin this story, its i a good one too.

[Sinful]

Oh, ok, thank you, man. Fixed already. Glad you're enjoying it!

[Broker Gangsta]

Dam this sh*t was hard as f*ck. I'm glad CJ lived cuzz he's my favorite GTA person and he's gangsta as f*ck lol. But this aint the end is it cuzz I liked this alot.